#Was he oblivious to his birthday as well ? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

indecisivemuch · 4 months

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Look at me

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: Being oblivious to Luke’s feelings, you tried to get over him by getting a boyfriend, who just does not know how to treat you right. Inspired by the song ‘Boyfriend’ by Dove Cameron ~ “I could be a better boyfriend than him.” (jealous luke, friends-to-lovers, fluff, angst, pining, happy ending.)

Warning: Just the boyfriend being an asshole and unwanted physical touch for a split second, but nothing serious. Sorry if your name is Cole. Violence (physical fighting)

Note: I’m sorry if there are a lot of errors, I haven’t had the chance to edit this thoroughly so if it feels like a train wreck, then I'm sorry. I just needed to write this out, get it out there, so I can go back to revising for my exams in peace lol, cause this plot/idea has been at the back of my head, I could not stop thinking about it or study properly. Lowkey hated how this one turned out, but whoops.

Word count: 4.8k

“People say that eyes are the windows to one's soul,” you once told him. You two have been best friends for a very long time: five years of being attached to the hip. Yet, you were completely oblivious to the way he looked at you. Even everybody at camp noticed and thought it was bound to happen. They were so sure that Luke and you would end up together. So imagine everybody’s surprise when something else occurred.

It happened right in front of Luke: Cole - a boy from Cabin 5 and son of Ares - asked you out, and you said yes.

It has been two months since that day. All Luke could do was sulk as he watched his best friend slip away. Of course, you still tried to spend as much time as possible with him. But even then, things have changed. There were no more of those content silences between the two of you. There were no more carefree laughs that made Luke feel like you two were the only ones that existed in this place. He used to walk you back to your cabin every night, hugging you good night or kissing your forehead close to your hairline if he felt brave enough. Moments like those convinced him you two would be like that forever. But his solace was taken in a split second. Now, you were so near, yet so out of reach.

It didn’t help that he saw you every day, like right now, as you sat in the middle of a gathering hosted by your cabin. Gods, even the wind seems to be in love with you, judging by the way it was blowing through your hair as if it was trying to twirl itself around those lovely locks that Luke himself used to always tug behind your ears. The sight of you always bathed him in this warm feeling, like the morning sun. Hence his nickname for you: sunshine.

Then his brown eyes landed on the figure next to you, and they hardened. He has witnessed it all: Cole’s backhanded compliments, ignoring you on your birthday, leaving you alone to talk to his friends, occasionally flirting back with girls who batted an eyelash at him, and then blatantly telling you that you were overthinking it. Luke knew he could treat you so much better.

You were sitting with your boyfriend and his group of friends, who often gave you weird looks or snickers. Gods, if it was him you were with, he’d never make you feel excluded. He would have his arms around you and defend you if his friends ever made snarky remarks. Not that that would ever happen anyway; you were well-loved at camp, and all his friends loved you. But he would treat you well, nevertheless, not like that dumbass sitting next to you.

One of your favorite songs started playing, and Luke watched as you genuinely smiled for once tonight. You touched your boyfriend’s arm, muttering something to him. Luke knew exactly what you were saying to Cole because you and Luke used to do this together. Except, you never had to ask Luke.

Whenever your favorite tunes were on, Luke would immediately pull you out of your seat and dance with you, laughing as if nothing mattered at all. Nights like those, he liked to imagine that the stars above envied them and what the two of you had. Now? He felt like one of them, watching from the outside.

Luke’s jaw clenched as he saw Cole shrugging off your hand on his arm. Gods, Luke felt like that idiot was taking you for granted, and his blood boiled. Before Cole, Luke used to always orchestrated some excuse to have you touch him - getting injured on purpose sometimes just to watch you frantically panic over his wounds and take care of him, volunteering to help you out with swords training just to touch your hand and pretend to adjust the way you were holding it, hugging you every time he greeted you and so on.

For a second, your mask slipped, and you had that look on your face, like something had left you emotionally wounded. It was the kind of look Luke would kill to never see again, and oh, the things he would do to get rid of Cole. Luke had to wrestle with the thought of marching up to Cole and beating him to a pulp. However, he did stand up to approach you.

You felt a hand touch your shoulder. When you peered at the person standing, your eyes immediately glimmered as they caught Luke’s. However, something foreign was gleaming in his eyes. The Hermes boy has always looked at you sweetly. But the way he was looking at you right now was filled with something much more intense - borderline fervent, like an obsession.

Cole finally glanced over at you for the first time the entire night. Unlike you, he instantly recognized the look in Luke’s eyes: hunger and longing. It was clear as day to everybody but you.

Luke extended his hand out for you to take and you understood right away. For the first time in two months, your hand touched his. Luke’s chest sunk and his breathing lost its usual rhythm for a second as your skin made contact with his. The Hermes boy finally looked over to Cole, and the Ares boy saw an immediate shift in his eyes. Now, they were filled with animosity and - the most obvious of all - heated jealousy.

Luke led you away from Cole and started twirling you around. You let out a laugh - the kind that was infectious and has always brought a smile to Luke’s lips. You both sang along to the lyrics. For once, your relationship felt restored, just like the good old days. Was it wrong that this was the happiest you have felt since you got together with Cole? You shrugged away the thought as the song slowly ended. Luke settled with both hands on your waist while yours were around his neck. Usually, you would put your head on his chest as you both slightly swayed around. But now that you were in a relationship, you kept a bit of distance between the two of you. You gaze up at Luke, who was already staring at you sweetly. The moment was perfect. Gods, you almost wished to stay in it forever.

Meanwhile, Luke hoped he could convey his thoughts through his eyes - the unspoken words he wished he had told you sooner. Could you not see the infatuation coursing through his veins whenever he was with you? Could you not see that you got him at your beck and call?

The look you gave him almost convinced him that you heard his thoughts. You leaned your head on his chest, caught off-guard by the speed of his heartbeat as it soothed you along with the music in the background. Feeling a heated look over his way, Luke glanced around and locked eyes with your boyfriend. Cole narrowed his eyes while Luke gave Cole a look of resentment and immense loathing.

Gods, he could be a much better boyfriend than Cole.

“Hey, man,” when you heard your boyfriend’s voice, you lifted your head from Luke’s chest and withdrew your hands around his neck. “I’ll take over from here,” Cole practically pulled you away from Luke and started swaying with you. Instead of feeling happy that Cole finally danced with you after two months of dating, you felt wrong. Cole's hands were on your waist, but they felt sluggish like his heart was not in it at all. Your ear was against Cole’s chest, so you caught the sound of his heartbeat. It sounded…too calm, almost cold and shallow, causing you to twist your lips into a frown.

You glanced up at your boyfriend but saw him staring behind you instead. So you glanced back and caught a glimpse of Luke before getting pulled around by Cole, who roughly yanked your face towards him. He kissed you almost aggressively. There was something cynical and bitter about the way he was kissing you.

Cole opened his eyes and conceitedly made eye contact with Luke. The Hermes boy glared at the sight of Cole handling you so roughly, claiming your lips so smugly. If it was him, he would be kissing you for you; he would be kissing you to show you how much he worshiped you and the ground you walk on, not to prove an empty point.

You finally managed to pull away when Cole let go of your chin. “All right, we’re done for the night, don’t you think?” your boyfriend muttered, quickly leaving you to return to his friends as if nothing had happened. Despite feeling slightly aggravated at Cole, you hated that you couldn't care less of his words at that moment, and the first thing you did was look in the direction Luke had been before.

Yet, he was not there anymore.

~~~

Your cabin was not on the same side as Luke’s cabin for this match of capture the flag. You were fighting off some people who were on the blue team. Years of training with Luke paid off because you managed to point your sword at the person’s neck and grinned when they put their hands up in surrender. You continued perusing through the area, trying to regroup with your team or take down another blue team member. However, you almost tripped as you witnessed Cole on the ground with Luke on top of him, repeatedly punching his face..

“Luke!” you called out, watching as Luke’s action faltered, and his eyes darted around frantically around like a lost wild animal. However, Cole took advantage of Luke’s momentary distraction to land a hit on Luke’s face. The Ares boy got off the ground as Luke stumbled and went for another punch. However, Luke dodged it effortlessly and rammed Cole against a tree instead.

“Hey, knock it off,” you yelled, standing between the boys to stop their flight. Luke immediately backed off, afraid he would accidentally hurt you if he didn’t. But Cole, in the middle of his blind rage, still swung for Luke and ended up striking you across the face instead. Right when that happened, Luke pushed Cole again and rushed to your side to assess your injury. At that very moment, Chiron approached the scene with one of Cole’s friends next to him, who promptly told the man:

“It was him. Luke initiated the fight.”

~~~

Luke wished for somebody to put him out of this misery as he stared at you from afar helplessly. He was so dotted that it hurt. Somebody must have answered his prayers because your eyes met his from across the field. There was a bit of sadness behind them, perhaps regret from how things ended yesterday. You whispered something to your boyfriend, but Cole did not even spare you a glance and waved his hand as if dismissing you from the discussion. Luke’s hand once again curled into a fist. He bit the inside of his cheek from the pain induced by his injury. The Hermes cabin counselor felt no bit of guilt in his body about his physical altercation with Cole. He felt smug at the sight of Cole with one black eye, busted lip, swollen cheek and a body sporting way more bruises than him.

You deserved better.

“Hey, stranger,” you greeted, sitting beside Luke. Almost immediately, he hooked one finger under your chin, tilting your head lightly as if he was afraid he might break you. The boy scanned over your injury, sighing at the sight of purple forming under your skin, indicating an emerging bruise. Even so, under the moonlight, you still looked heavenly to him.

“Devon said you initiated the fight. Is that true, Luke?” Luke frowned at the mention of Cole’s friend. Great, now he knew another idiot’s name. Meanwhile, you have asked this because you knew him. There was no way the boy you knew would lose control like this and swing his hands first.

“No, but what’s the point of telling Chiron that? It’s two against one,” he breathed out.

“Luke, you’re literally the friendliest and nicest counselor here. Of course, he would believe you,” you reasoned. You sighed disappointingly as Luke only shook his head in response as if asking you to drop it.

Now, you two sat in silence. It felt the same as the comforting ones you have had with him before - the ones that made you feel like you were at home in front of your fireplace, curled up with a book.

“Why are you with him?” and with that, the comfort evaporated as the air thickened. You and Luke rarely argued or even disagreed, so it felt like an unfamiliar territory every time it felt relatively tense between you two.

“I know you, which is why I know that you’re absolutely miserable with him, so I don’t understand why you’re still with Cole,” Luke commented, though his voice was quiet because he was considerate of drawing this type of attention to you. He had seen it before - Cole causing public altercations and storming off and you running after him with tears emerging from your eyes. He did not want to put you in the same position.

“Y/N, please, as your best friend…” there it was again, the word that used to make you smile brightly, was now the same one that brought you pain. You wanted more. “...You deserve better,” he uttered, his eyebrows slightly scrunched as he looked at you with those eyes. There it was again, the look so intense that you were convinced they could swallow you whole. Yet, you could not interpret them. So, you looked away.

“Luke…” you said his name almost like a warning sign. The boy sighed at this.

His fingers gently tilted your chin towards him, urging you to face him. There was so much contrast in the way he touches you and the way Cole does. You knew precisely why Luke wanted you to look at him: your eyes were your tell for him. Years ago, after you told him that eyes were the windows to one's soul, he told you that he knew this already because he had learned that your eyes will always tell the truth for you. That’s how, in so many instances, he would be the first to notice whenever you're upset.

“Y/N, does he make you happy?” you stiffened at the question. Words choked up in your throat as your mouth opened to answer. You wanted to say yes so you both could get over this conversation. But you knew he would be able to tell you were lying. The way he looked at you right now, as if you were the only thing that mattered. He seemed so vulnerable. Little did you right at this moment, Luke was willing to surrender and let you go if you said yes.

“Oh, this is who you left me to talk to?” Cole's voice broke you both out of the trance. “The person who beat your boyfriend?” Cole passive-aggressively spat, sneering from above as he looked down at the two of you. You called out to your boyfriend, but he quickly cut you off with a quick “Unbelievable,” before walking away. But Cole did this on purpose. He liked the attention he drew, even if they were at your expense, especially because he knew you would chase after him.

“I’m so sorry,” you muttered to Luke on your boyfriend's behalf as you stood up to run after him. Luke frowned as he shook his head. If you were his, he would never allow you to apologize on his behalf, nor would he give a reason for you to ever do that.

“Uhm, what are you waiting for?” Annabeth’s voice broke Luke from his irritated state. “Go after her,” the young girl nudged.

“I doubt I should do that, Annabeth. Last time I was with him, he ended up in the infirmary.”

“Yes, but you need to go after her before it’s too late.”

“It’s already too late.”

“No, it’s not,” the girl stated sternly, and when Luke peered over at her, he recognized the look on her face. From experience, he knew better than to doubt when Annabeth was right. So, he stood up and walked in the direction where you disappeared after your boyfriend.

“Stop it, Cole. I don’t want to…” Your voice grabbed Luke’s attention as he started walking in that direction, eyebrows furrowed.

“Come on, this is the least you could do to make it up to me,” Cole replied.

When Luke reached the scene, he almost went into an uncontrollable wrath when he saw Cole trying to take off your shirt as you objected and struggled out of his grip.

“I said ‘let go,’ Cole,” you yelled this time, pushing him back. Upon finally doing so successfully, a figure stormed past you and immediately flung at Cole’s cheek, right at the spot that was already bruising. The impact knocked Cole to the ground as he wailed from the pain. Averting your gaze to the person, you saw Luke. Like a deranged bull, Luke grabbed Cole by the collar and lifted him up, going in for another hit, but you quickly stopped him, calling out his name.

Cole, who did not learn his lesson, spoke again, “Gods, of course! He runs to your aid again. You must be a good fuck for him to get this attached. How many times have you fucked him, huh? Gods, you’re such a whore, you know that?” If it were not for your hands stopping Luke and removing his grip from Cole’ shirt, Luke would have ensured Cole no longer had a face.

“Cole, stay the fuck away from me. We are over.” Your words seemed to affect Luke more than Cole. It was as if Luke could feel an immense weight being lifted from his shoulders. “Let’s go, this is not worth it,” you told Luke. Cole barked a laugh at this.

“Man, you’re more trouble than it's worth. Do you know why no guys ever asked you out? You’re fucking difficult and clingy, that’s why. If it was not for that fucking bet, I would not have either.” Luke was about to launch at Cole but was caught off guard because you had already done it yourself. You punched him, aiming for his nose and teeth, making sure to break a few.

“You fucking bitch!” Cole spoke after he howled in agony. He spat out blood as his nose started bleeding, “Gods, you’re gonna pay for this.”

“Oh yeah? Come on!” you challenged him, motioning him to come over. Any sense of calm or restraint you had was long gone. “I’ll be the one sending you to the fucking infirmary this time,” right when you started approaching Cole again, you were quickly stopped by Luke. He stood behind you, one of his hands soothingly rubbing your back in an attempt to calm you down. Luke averted his gaze to Cole.

“If you know any better, then leave, Cole. And don’t come near any of us again, or I promise you…” Luke trailed off, shaking his head as his eyes bore the weight of the promise he left unsaid, leaving it to Cole’s imagination as to what Luke would ever do to him if he ever saw the boy again. Something seemed to dawn on Cole as he saw the dark look on Luke’s face. Cole finally decided to leave the scene, limping away from the area as he muttered some insults under his breath.

You turned around and inspected Luke’s hand, which started bleeding again through the bandage. Taking his non-injured hand in yours, you wordlessly dragged the boy to the infirmary. Despite the excruciating pain spreading through his injured hand, Luke blushed at your action and followed you like a lost puppy.

The Apollo person on shift was someone you knew, so you managed to convince them to let you do the work on the Hermes boy. You observed his hand again, peeling off the dirty bandage from it. As you went to grab disinfectant, Luke softly held you back by flipped over his hand that was in yours so that he could take a look at your hand instead.

“Are you okay?” His words made you swiftly look over at him instead. There was a sad look on his face as he sat on the infirmary bed. You haven’t seen him this hurt and dejected in a long time.

“Am I okay? You’re the one with the bleeding hand.”

“You punched him quite hard.”

“He deserved it,” you settled on answering, hesitantly pulling your hand out of his so you could grab the things you needed.

“You know I had that handled, right?” you asked mindlessly, trying to fill the silence as you disinfected his hand and wrapped a new bandage over it. “I don’t need you to defend my honor or anything, Luke. I can hold my own ground,” you tried joking.

“No, I know you can hold your own ground. Besides, I wasn’t defending your honor,” he spoke softly, watching as you delicately held his hand with so much care. He wished you could hold him like that as well. A quivering sigh escaped his soft lips, his voice much less firm than he wanted it to be:

“I was defending the girl I’m in love with.”

You immediately looked at him, only to see him already gazing up at you. It was as if a blindfold had been taken off, you finally understood what your other friends were referring to when they said that Luke had always “looked” at you. His eyes were filled with adoration. However, this time, they were also decorated with pain.

“I could be a better boyfriend than him,” he stated, almost like it was a fact, and your gut knew it was true, too.

“So….Why not me? I watched you give Cole - a complete asshole - a chance with you. I watched him give you so much less than what you deserve. It pains me, but I still sit here and wait for you to look in my direction for even one second in the way I have always looked at you. I could be so good to you, Y/N. I waited for you to realize I could be the one who loves you so endlessly and treats you way better than all these guys combined. So…why? Please tell me why and put me out of my misery. Why is it not me?”

“Luke…” you rasped out his name. Despite the pain he was in, his heart could not help but throb for a second as it yearned for the sound of your voice calling out to him again. He almost scowled at himself for the way he was reacting to you. Gods, you managed to unravel him through the sound of his name from your lips. He hesitated for a second, wondering if he would even be able to take it at all - if he was given a chance with you. Would he be able to handle the way your skin felt against his, or would his heart burst into unstoppable flames? Would he ever be able to move on if you ended up breaking his heart, or would it remain in scattered pieces of you?

“I love you,” he uttered so effortlessly, which almost convinced you he had said it a thousand times before. In a way, he did, but only in his mind after every time he bid you goodnight. Gods, never did you think he’d say it out loud and put it out there. You almost said it before as well - out loud to the universe, but never brave enough.

“Luke, I never knew,” Luke wanted to sigh as he looked away from you. For the first time ever, he did not want to be vulnerable and let you see his eyes. The same ones that had been looking longingly at you for the past five years, and you were too blinded to see.

He could have sworn that he had been laying it on thick for the past years - all the touches, the looks, his actions. Luke would always linger near you and select you first every time he had to go on a quest. And if he ever were selected to go on one without you, the first thing he would do after returning is wrap his arms around your waist as he pulled you into a hug, breathing in your presence like it would bring him back to life from the gruesome battles he had to go through while out of camp. Did all those actions throughout five years not show you enough that he was infatuated with you? He wanted to reassure you that what Cole said previously was not true. Many guys wanted you but never asked you out because they knew he would be first in line no matter what.

"Luke, please, look at me," Of course he obeyed. His eyes met yours - the ones he always tried to find in a crowd of demigods.

“I never knew that you were an option. I did not know that I could choose you. I thought that even attempting to tell you about my feelings would break our friendship forever. I didn’t know you felt this way, too. In fact,” you dryly chuckled. “I was giving Cole a chance because I was trying to move on from you.” Luke tugged you closer to him, his fingers lingering on your hips. Thousands of thoughts speared through him as he tried to collect himself. A glimmer of hope presented itself as his mind toyed with the idea of you wanting him too.There was no way he was letting you move on now, not when you both have mutual feelings.

“I thought I was deep in the friend zone. Did you not see all the moves I pulled on you?” he asked.

“What moves?”

“Uhm—the physical contact?”

“I thought you were just touchy.”

“I walked you back to your cabin every night!”

“Well, I thought it was just a best friend thing?”

“The first thing I do after every quest is search for you, you’re always the first one I want to see.”

“I really, really thought it was because you were my best friend.” He groaned at all of your responses.

“But do know, Luke. You have always been my first option in everything. And I would have chosen you again and again, the first pick every round…if I knew you were up for it.” He groaned again, but this time out of temptation and satisfaction. He didn’t think the metaphorical butterflies were real. He slowly but surely stood up from the infirmary’s bed and wrapped his arms around your waist. You reciprocated, your hands around his neck. He leaned closer to you and gulped. He wanted to say the right words, do the right things and not mess this up. He took a deep breath and finally settled on what to say next.

“Can I kiss you?” He muttered in a low, raspy voice with a restrained manner, as if he was holding himself back. Five years of pining led him to this point. You almost melted at the sound of his voice.

“Kiss me, Luke.”

And he did. He pulled you up and arched down, connecting your lips together. He dove in as if he had been waiting for this day his whole life. He felt every breath knocked out of his lungs. He sunk himself into this moment like he was living for it rather than in it. He kissed you as if it was the only time he could and as if you would evaporate if he stopped. His hands moved to your face to embrace your cheeks in his palm.

You started moving your hands up his head and played with his curly hair. You tugged it slightly, and the action drew a moan from Luke. The sound caused you to break away. It made you flustered that you had evoked such an alluring sound from the Hermes boy.

“I wanna go slow for you, I really do. But it feels like I’ve been waiting for so long. I want to be a gentleman and not skip steps. But I can’t wait anymore,” he whispered before whimpering against your lips, “please be mine.”

He went in for another kiss again, but you pulled away. His heart clenched at this. The boy bit his lip and wanted to scowl at himself for attempting to speed things up. He was too greedy and wanted things too quickly for you. He almost whined at the thought of losing the chance he barely had.

“That was not a question, Luke. Ask me, and I’ll give you an answer,” he stared into your eyes, and it almost set him on fire. He never saw that much passion in them before. It almost matched his, and that made his heart fasten again.

“Will you be mine, sunshine?”

“Yes, Luke. As long as you’re mine too.”

“I have always been yours.”

——————————

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capricornlevi · 21 days

Text

inevitability- nanami x f!reader

tags: friends to lovers, salaryman!nanami, breeding, unprotected sex, fingering, missionary, mating press, creampie, mild cumplay

cw: alcohol (all sex sober & consensual!), pregnancy mentions, rough but v v consensual sex, reader and nanami are both in their late 20s/early 30s

word count: 5.3k

a/n: in which your decide with your good friend of many years that it's time to get you pregnant <3 this has been festering in my brain and i know it's pretty different than what i usually write but ! here it is! ahh! sounds of me screaming!

"this is weird, y'know?" you blurt out, watching as nanami hangs up his jacket by your front door before settling down beside you on the couch. he keeps a respectful distance, resting his hands on his broad thighs and smoothing down the fabric of his slacks, clearly nervous. "this is very, very weird. like, weird at levels i don't think people have achieved before."

"i know," nanami replies diplomatically, as if he could be anything but excruciatingly aware of how unconventional this is. "are you having second thoughts? because i completely understand --"

you shake your head abruptly. "no, no, just ... thinking aloud, i guess. just getting used to this, because it's really ... um ..."

"weird?" nanami offers helpfully, and you turn to nod.

"weird."

because what else do you call agreeing to have a baby with your platonic friend of 10 years?

you first met nanami on the second day of college and knew right away he'd be a good dad, even back when having kids wasn't even a consideration for you. it was obvious; he was already a good dad back then, with how he looked out for his underclassmen even as he progressed through his degree. how he stayed sober when he knew people would be going overboard, not sleeping until you texted him to confirm you'd gotten home safe after a party.

he helped you study at the weekends and, in return, you provided him with a discount at the local cafe where you worked. through this time spent knocking back americanos and proofing each other's work, you grew close.

even with all his responsibility and good sense contrasting your exuberance and recklessness, you found yourself enjoying being with him. and he could be funny, too, delivering sharp and witty quips when you least expected it.

you became inseparable. insufferable, some would call it; the matching-halloween-costume type of insufferable, a borderline codependent but obliviously happy friendship that can only be fostered on a college campus.

then right after college, when you had dived straight into your quarter-life crisis and dyed your hair every colour under the sun, got piercings in too many places, slept with questionable people and dated some even worse, nanami had gotten himself a decent, impressive, well-paying job. it was a job that had him wearing tailored suits at 23, paired with fancy glasses that cost more than your rent, and you'd laughed at him, at how serious he looked. but you also worried at how the bags under his eyes grew deeper and darker, how the amused lilt to his voice started to dissipate as time went on.

his 9 to 5 turned to an 8 to 6, and then he was working weekends and skipping movie nights, missing out on meeting new boyfriends of yours, fading into the periphery of your life with you unable to do anything about it.

as with all relationships in your twenties, it was hard to stay in touch. the higher he climbed up the career ladder, the further you grew apart.

soon, it was only on holidays or birthdays when you both would reach out, cordial and civil but achingly unfamiliar.

then, on your twenty-ninth birthday, drunk at a bar and having taken a couple minutes away from your raucous friend group, you had stepped outside to grab some fresh air only to walk head-on into nanami's firm chest.

you had spluttered apologies, lifting your head to see who you had headbutted, only to find your old friend looking down at you with an amused look on his face.

and just like that, things picked up where they left off. you spent the night talking, catching up over drinks and laughter.

with a tone that was only half-teasing, you had asked him what brought him out tonight -- it was hard enough to get him to come out for drinks when you were both in college, much less now with his big fancy job.

but he had laughed in that gentle, airy way you'd heard a thousand times, explaining that he had been out socialising with clients who had just left minutes before. he was just on his way out before running into you.

perfect timing. painfully perfect.

you stayed talking until last call, making exhilarated promises to get in touch the next day.

and to your surprise, you both actually stuck to that.

in the ten months since then, you've met up every sunday for breakfast at your favourite cafe. over lattes and freshly baked croissants, you fill each other in on the details of the half-decade spent apart. he had a serious girlfriend, serious to the point of moving in together, but she'd gotten spooked and left him last summer to go travelling. he was hurt, obviously, but understood her perspective in that annoyingly calm, measured way that is just part of his nature.

and on your end -- despite the drunken circumstances in which you'd been reacquainted, which is all part of moderation, after all -- you've actually calmed down considerably since your early twenties.

you have your own apartment. you have a rescue cat you care for immensely, even when he tries wriggling out of your arms to go stare out the window at passing cyclists. you have a retirement fund, started yoga, learned to bake your own bread.

you're not boring, you still have fun and let off steam whenever you can, but you're having the sort of revelations about life that nanami seems to have had years ago.

fun is good. fun is important. but it can't be everything, because then it starts to come at a cost.

truthfully, the birth of your nephew is what prompted you to make some changes. you didn't want to show up to babysit hungover. you wanted to have funds to hand in order to treat him to little toys and sweets when your sister allowed it, and soon found yourself amazed at how his little face lit up every time he saw you.

it made you grow up, and fast.

in the course of your cafe hangouts, you had mentioned your nephew to nanami. showed pictures of the boy's pudgy little hands reaching for the camera, told stories of how he could tell the difference between new episodes of Bluey versus reruns, and how he's changed your entire life without even realising.

soon, talk about your nephew turned to general musings about your own future.

then one night, when you decided to switch your meetup location from the cafe to a cocktail bar, you shared something that you had barely admitted to yourself.

you wanted to have a kid.

this realisation wasn't borne from some crisis about entering a new decade, it wasn't something forced on you by others or general societal pressure. it was something that grew organically, inspired by the honour of watching your little nephew grow up.

to your surprise, nanami didn't scoff or dismiss you. you figured he'd have rolled his eyes, laughing off your confession since you weren't in a committed relationship.

instead, he expressed similar sentiments, but for slightly different reasons.

"i'm sick of work being my whole life," he had mused quickly, sipping an old fashioned with a funny look in his eye. "it was only when we started hanging out again that i realised how much of my life I've wasted at a place that wouldn't care if i lived or died."

"do i need to be worried about you having the type of rebellious streak the rest of us went through ten years ago?" you asked, smiling and fidgeting with one of your rings without thinking.

he waved off your suggestion with a fond roll of his eyes. "i'm not impulsively quitting or anything, don't worry. just want to take a step back, i suppose, or find something with shorter hours. i just think there's more to life than endless hours slaving behind a desk."

you toasted to that sentiment, knocking back the last of your cosmo.

nanami continued, watching you set your empty glass back down with a soft grin on his lips. "the whole family, kids thing ... i get it, you know? it makes sense."

"yeah?" you pried carefully, interested to see where this is going.

"i'd be lying if i said i didn't think about it, too. i have a nest egg saved up which means i'd be able to take time off to help with a kid, to actually be there to see them grow up. and it's not that i want to have one just because i think i need to -- i think i'd be decent at it, y'know? the whole parenting thing."

you obviously agreed. you'd thought the same for a while now, and getting reacquainted with the man has only spurred on those thoughts.

he really would be perfect.

the issue wasn't discussed further that night, but it was brought up again at coffee the following sunday, then at the bakery the week after that, and before long, it was your birthday again.

after a massive party with all your friends and family -- and a little too much wine -- nanami had stayed behind to help you clean up, because of course he would, and you got to talking again, got to revisiting that topic that had been at the back of both of your minds.

you can't remember the exact wording of the discussion or how many bottles of prosecco fuelled the conversation, but what you do know is that when you sobered up, you didn't regret agreeing to it.

you were gonna have a kid together.

you and nanami.

coparenting.

as outlandish an idea as it might seme on the surface, when looking at it a little deeper, it made sense to you. this wasn't decided on a whim. this was something that had momentum building behind it for months and months, perhaps even years, without you even realising.

when meeting up for coffee the following week, you both gave each other an out. said there'd be no big deal if things were called off. but neither one of you took it, despite laughing for what felt like hours about how bizarre it all felt.

still, no sign of backing out.

which brings you to tonight, the agreed-upon date of when you'd start trying.

nanami had suggested using artificial fertility methods if that made you more comfortable, but you politely turned him down, thinking it unnecessary. he wasn't a stranger -- plus, you'd be lying if you said he wasn't objectively attractive -- so if he had no objections to trying things the old-fashioned way, then you didn't either.

and he obviously didn't mind too much since he's now here on your couch, folding his arms and then unfolding them as he waited for you to make the first move.

he looks good, despite all the nerves. he's filled out over the years, though he was always strong, with every muscle in his body well-defined and perfectly proportional. his hair is still blond but with the faintest specks of grey, his skin brighter and more well-rested than that night you got reacquainted.

his deep brown eyes stay fixed on you and your skin heats as his gaze traces over you.

"do you want me to kiss you?" you break the silence, the words tumble messily from your mouth.

he looks taken aback, as if this was something he'd vaguely considered but never thought would actually happen.

"do ... do you want to?"

his earnestness has you smiling, cutting through the tension, and you meet his eyes properly for the first time since he arrived tonight. he always has this way of making you feel comfortable, his presence alone is like an embrace that calms the racing thoughts that constantly occupy your mind.

it's only now that you're close, so close, you realise that maybe you really do want to --

"i wouldn't suggest it otherwise," you murmur softly as if your heart isn't hammering against your ribcage, shifting nearer to him on the couch but keeping that last bridge of distance for him to close.

his tongue swipes over his lower lip, almost subconsciously demonstrating his wishes as his line of sight drifts down to your mouth. he nods then, dipping his head, only a couple inches of space between you now.

"yeah -- yeah, okay."

you can see how his pupils dilate as you reach out to slip his glasses off, setting them down on the coffee table, cupping his face in your hands.

he returns your smile at that gesture, just the slightest hint of nerves in his eyes that disappear when he finally decides to press your lips to yours.

his lips are softer than you imagined ... though until this very moment, you hadn't even realised that this was something you had imagined.

he lets you set the rhythm but doesn't shy away; he meets your movements, your energy at every kiss, letting you stop for a moment to adjust yourself as things progress.

this should feel weird, right? you should have some lingering feeling of awkwardness at making out with your best friend, at taking his hand in yours and setting it down on your thigh to show you want him to touch you?

this was supposed to be a relatively unromantic event, after all. it wasn't meant to be the start of anything. though it was never clinical or unemotional -- you're technically starting a family together, after all, if an entirely unconventional one -- you never foresaw it going down like this.

this feels like something that was meant to happen.

he pulls back ever-so-slightly, lips still grazing against yours as he asks softly, "this okay?"

you nod by way of answer, not wanting to waste another second not kissing him. nanami captures your lips with his again, and with renewed enthusiasm, slips his tongue into your mouth, probing gently and barely hiding the low rumble of a groan deep in his throat.

all thoughts of propriety start to fade into the ether. his hand on your thigh burns hot, shifting up and down the exposed skin. you'd worn a nice dress for the evening, unsure of the dress code for an event as strange as this, but you find yourself grateful for choosing something that fell so far above the knee.

his hands are rougher than his lips but not in an unpleasant way. you figure it's from his only out-of-work hobby that doesn't consist of hanging out with you; his renovation group. nanami is part of a volunteer organisation that helps build and renovate houses for those in need -- as if he couldn't get any more painfully perfect, obviously.

you stay like that for a few more minutes, exploring these new sensations and becoming increasingly more aware of the ball of anticipation burning in your lower stomach. everywhere he touches you feels warm, every soft nip against your lips feels electric.

then, against every instinct in your body, you force yourself to pause to take a few steadying breaths. nanami responds in the same way, pulling his hands back to his own thighs, adjusting his stance on the couch.

he's hard, you can see as much from the awkward way he shuffles in his seat. not to mention the bulge very obviously visible in the front of his slacks -- just seeing it fills you with want, with the need to touch and be touched.

this is moving more fluidly than you had expected, arriving at each decision without a second thought. in that vein, you decide to ask:

"want to head to the bedroom?", hoping you don't sound as desperate as you're feeling. "if you're ready -"

"yes," he responds before you've even finished your sentence. you feel grateful that the eagerness is not one-sided as you get to your feet, taking nanami by the hand to pull him up with you.

when you've reached your room and the door is shut behind you, revealing the modest set up of your freshly-made bed and a single scented candle -- any more than that felt a little too forced, too awkward -- you marvel at the feeling of nanami's hands on your hips, somehow gentle and firm at the same time, manoeuvring you onto the bed with a pre-rehearsed confidence that never verges on forceful.

your head hasn't even hit the pillow before he's kissing you again like he's starving for it. it's messy this time, the gentle exploration from before giving way to something more primal and urgent.

you have to remind yourself that this is your nanami you're kissing. the nanami who was there for you through the most painful college breakups. the nanami who knows your coffee order, who helped zip up the back of your graduation dress.

but now, with his tongue against yours and the stiffness pressing against your stomach, all you can think is why you didn't do this sooner?

just as you're about to combust underneath him, he pulls back, balancing himself on an elbow as his eyes flick down to see how your dress is bunched at the top of your thighs. he closes his eyes, his breaths ragged and unsteady.

"i don't know how--" he whispers, tongue gliding over his kiss-slick lips, "how ... technical you might want to go about this."

you let out a little laugh, craning your neck to kiss his jawline so he knows it's not at his expense.

"i never really thought about the technicalities, but it doesn't have to be too clinical, or anything. i know you, you know me. we can just ... have sex."

"have sex," he repeats slowly, eyes open again, the hint of a grin on his face.

"yeah, have sex!" you answer with a chuckle. "or is there another way you'd like me to phrase it?"

he laughs then too, looking at you again as he shakes his head softly.

"what?" you press him with a mock indignance. "it's rude to laugh at my suggestion, actually. i felt it was pretty accurate."

"i'm not laughing at you," he says gently, lips still curved upwards. "just ... i must have pictured you saying those words a thousand times, and i never thought it -- it's just funny to hear out loud, is all."

it takes you a second to fully comprehend the words as they wash over you.

you'd be ignorant to say that the realisation never dawned on you, but it was something you thought was a relic of your college years. he had blushed a few times too many whenever the topic of sex came up at parties, had a hint of jealousy in his voice when giving advice about one particular ex-boyfriend. at your apartment complex's winter party in senior year, you can tell he was thinking about kissing you.

but that was when you were young and naive, inexperienced with life, and the thought of this nanami desiring you, of picturing you in his life, of imagining what you'd look like spread out underneath him like this --

you lift your head and grab his shirt collar, yanking him in for another kiss. when he's settled back against you, your hands weave down to unbutton his shirt. you feel him smile against your lips as he starts to unzip your dress in return.

you're a mess of limbs as items of clothing get strewn across your bedroom carpet. before long, it's all skin-on-skin, the heat of his body pressed against yours before he grabs your waist and flips you over until you're straddling him.

you feel the length of him pressed against your stomach, hot and painfully hard, but from the way he cups his hand against your neck and starts to kiss your throat, you know he's not going to rush this.

just as you gasp out his name as his teeth nip against your pulse point, he brings his other hand to the apex of your thighs, fingertips resting just over your pubic bone, barely brushing against the sensitive skin.

"want me to touch you?" he mumbles quietly against your throat, the way his breath fans over you making you shiver.

you nod pitifully, hips canting towards him, but he doesn't budge.

"need you to say it," he says low, quiet, thumb shifting down by the millimetre, "need to know how much you want it."

"i want it," you gasp, the arch of your back deepening the closer he gets to your aching core, all concerns about appearing desperate evaporating with every press of his lips to your skin. "i want it, kento, p- please touch me."

nanami obliges, fingertips trailing down until his thumb is brushing over your clit. he slides his hand lower, fingers slipping through your damp lips, and then uses your own wetness to start rubbing you in earnest.

any form of articulate thought slips from your mind, replaced with only those that can get you more of this -- nanami's fingers playing with your clit, the other hand possessively resting at your nape, his cock pressed between you with precum beading at the tip.

you want it in your mouth. you want it inside you, and as you go to shift your hips, nanami shifts his back.

"want to see what you look like when you come first," he says, slipping his middle and ring finger inside you as if to prove he's going about it the right way.

and he really is, because after only a few strokes of his fingers, your vision is getting hazy. you've never been this turned on so quickly before, never felt this desperate, all-consuming urge -- but then again, you've never had a man look at you like this before now either.

you try to focus on the sensation of his fingers stretching you open, his thumb still stroking your clit in the perfect rhythm, but your mind wanders to the thick cock pressed up against you. you want to rub against him, let him fill you up, make him feel good too --

but looking at his face now, pupils blown and lower lip raw from biting down on it, you can tell this is as much for him as it is for you.

less than a minute later it hits you, the explosion of warmth radiates out to every cell in your body, rendering you a boneless mess in nanami's arms.

he holds you as the aftershock subsides, strong arms keeping you steady even when your legs feel as though they've turned to jelly. when you feel capable of supporting yourself, you slide ungracefully from where you were perched on his thighs and fall back against your pillows, head spinning blissfully.

nanami leans down next to you and kisses your forehead, whispering words of praise that fill you with a strange sensation you can't quite place.

"want to take a break?" he ask after a few moments have passed, "or if you're tired, we can try again later --"

"no," you cut him off, turning your head to look at him directly, face splitting into a smile through the post-orgasm haze. "i just need a second is all, i still -- if you want to --"

"i do."

and so to ease yourself back into it, you kiss him slowly, intimately, bodies gently intertwining as he shifts closer to you on the bed. you guide his hands to your chest, gasping as his thumb circles a nipple.

"you're just ... beautiful in a way i don't really have words for," he mumbles, watching you squirm pleasurably under him.

"nanami kento lost for words? a first time for everything," you manage to quip through it all, earning a pinch of the other nipple that turns your laugh into a moan.

"we've plenty more firsts to get through tonight."

at that, nanami shifts halfway down the mattress and gets to his knees, hands gripping your thighs as he spreads them open. he takes his cock in his hand and slowly drags the head through your folds, up and down but not yet penetrating you, appreciating how you're almost sucking him in, the eager way you pull back your legs to accommodate him.

he stays like that for a minute. every time you think he's about to sink in, he holds himself back as if transfixed by the obscene sounds that come from playing with your pussy, of using you to stroke himself off.

he looks to be on the verge of a choice, like his brain is fighting between two options: taking you slow and gentle like you deserve, or sinking in and fucked into you desperately, filling you up until he knows he's bred you, that you're his and only his.

you soon glean that he wants you to actually say it out loud, wants to hear those words he's fantasised about for so long.

"fuck me, kento."

now utterly unable to hold off any longer, he heeds your request, lining up and thrusting inside you in one fluid motion.

it's a pleasant stretch; he's still careful to let you adjust to his size but you're soon relishing the feeling of being so full, and the fucked-out grin on your face spurs him on.

his hips shift back inch by inch until he's almost fully pulled out, letting out a low groan as he sinks back in again, and at that, he knows he's a goner, completely lost to the feeling of his entire length buried inside you.

this is nanami at his most possessive, fucking into you as you're caged in by his strong arms, your knees now pulled back as far as they'll go. the skin on the back of your thighs is raw from your nails digging into them but you don't care, single-minded in your aim to keep the head of his cock brushing against that perfect spot inside you.

your shoulder blades press into your soft pillows as you try to keep from writhing too much, wanting with all of your might to avoid upsetting this perfect rhythm.

above you, nanami's perfect cheekbones are flushed, his brows knit tightly together, your silky walls wrapping tight around his cock in a way that's driving him to the brink sooner than he'd like. against all better judgment, he slows down just slightly, allowing himself to indulge in the sensation.

"you take my cock so well, y'know that?" he mumbles in between quiet grunts, "with that pretty look on your face when i fill you up... you're trying to kill me, i swear to god."

you both laugh breathlessly before yours breaks off in a moan, slurring his name as he speeds up subconsciously. he presses his lips to every inch of your neck, jaw, collarbone, thrusts unrelenting but never too much.

if you weren't already aware of how soaked you are, the slick sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you provide more than enough proof, melding with the soft squeak of your bedsprings to just about cut through the muffled sound of your moans.

your body now guided more by instinct than intention, you slip your hand down to where your hips are pressed together, two fingers circling the swollen bud of your clit. the angle of his ruts means his cock grazes your fingertips as he pulls out, the desperate rubbing of your hand between your legs spurring him on.

"still want me to come inside you?" he says then, strands of hair coming loose, sticking to his forehead, "want me to fill you up?"

you nod feebly -- the answer clearly not sufficient in itself, since he leans in, pressing his forehead to yours as he meets you for a wet, messy kiss. continuing his question with his lips still touching yours, he asks;

"want me to take care of you? want to be my pretty wife, hm, wanna -- fuck -- wanna be mine, yeah?"

you slur something unintelligible, focusing on the second orgasm gathering quick and hot in your core. you lose your grip on your thighs and fumble to pull your legs back up.

nanami helps to hike your legs back up -- but not in their original position. instead, he guides them until your ankles rest on his shoulders, and after taking just a second to press a kiss to your calf, he sinks back to the hilt. feeling him bottom out, your vision nearly goes white; this new angle allows him to slide in so deep it's practically splitting you open, so deep you can tell he's serious about breeding you.

somehow, the sensation remains just shy of too much -- it's not too much of a stretch or causing too much sensitivity -- it's more than you've ever taken but you honestly feel you could stay like this forever, taking nanami's cock like you were made for it, with him looking down at you with a mixture of reverence and pure lust.

you want him like this for the rest of your life.

"i'm gonna need you to answer, cos I'm pretty close," he half-pleads as if reading your mind, his voice deep and strained, firm chest heaving as the thrusts get messier and less coordinated.

though your mind is near-blank and your lungs feel they can't get enough air, you manage to mumble a "fuck, yes. want -- want you to come inside, kento ... please."

that last word tips him over with you following almost immediately after, clenching around his cock as you feel him pulsing inside you, feeling more full than you've ever felt in your life. his head tips back as he cums, moaning beautiful praise you can just about make out, strands of sentences about you being the only one he wants taking his come, about how he's going to keep fucking you full for as long as it takes.

sparks of electricity reverberate through your body, hips pushing against his as you ride out your orgasm, pretty little whimpers harmonising with nanami's continued praise.

you stay like that for what seems like forever, basking in the wave of pleasure that's just swept you away effortlessly.

everything is just ... warm. purely and blissfully warm. the warmth of his hands still gripping your legs, the warmth of your own breath fanning over your sweaty chest, the warmth between your legs that starts to dribble down the backs of your thighs when nanami pulls out.

for good measure, nanami uses two fingers to push some of his come back inside, grinning as aftershocks pulse around the digits.

you lower your tired legs to rest on the mattress, thighs aching from being bent practically in half, but it's easy to disregard any physical exhaustion when you feel this level of contentment.

nanami's arms are soon wrapped around you, pulling you to rest on top of his chest where you spend some moments of perfect silence.

you can hear his heart beating in his chest, skipping a beat when you angle your head up to meet his gaze again.

"well?" you ask, a smile imbued in your words. "still lost for words?"

"just thinking about how every second of this was worth waiting for," he replies without missing a beat, eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches how his answer flusters you.

with one hand behind his head as he rests of the pillow and the other wrapped around your shoulders, nanami looks more relaxed than you've maybe ever seen him.

this is a man who looked on the verge of a nervous breakdown when you reconnected less than a year ago; he's almost unrecognisable now, the dark circles under his eyes have faded, his face filling out a bit more, the smile on his face entirely genuine.

and in this moment you feel a burst of clarity, a sudden realisation that's eluded you since that first night you met in college.

maybe -- just maybe -- you're as good an influence on him as he is on you.

#nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento x reader #may tries to write #oh lord #im not even going to tell you how long i spent drafting this bad boy #please join me in the brainrot please

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livinginshambles · 3 months

Text

You'll never compare to her | James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: you're in a relaionship with James, but he keeps on comparing you with Lily subconsciously until he says it to your face on a drunken night.

Notes: Hi, sorry I got into a major writer's block and couldn't for the life of me find a fitting ending, because I can't forgive this easily from own experiences, but I do like happy endings cause copium. Anyway if y'all have suggestions, I'll make a part two :)

Not proofread, grammar mistakes, spelling mistakes, etc etc. ENJOY!

Masterlist

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“James, wait up!” you yelled across the courtyard, catching the attention of about everyone except James. You watched James turn the corner with Peter, an exasperated expression on your face. You looked down dejectedly but then you saw the stares of people around you. You grinned widely at them, covering up any signs of embarrassment.

“There’s just something about boys and hearing problems,” you joked with a nonchalant shrug, and the surrounding students giggled in understanding.

You hummed to yourself while you walked off. You’d give James his wand later. He probably wouldn’t need it for Potions class anyway.

Peter looked up at James in confusion. “Prongs, did you not hear her call out to you?”

James sighed. “We’ll be late for class if we stopped, you know. I mean, I love my girlfriend, but she’s just sometimes a bit oblivious, and once she starts, we’ll be stuck there,” James explained in a complaining manner.

“But you love her,” came a voice behind him. Sirius parted James and Peter to walk between the two of them. “Right?” He swung his arms across the other marauders’ shoulders.

James gave him an annoyed look. “That’s what I said, but great hearing.”

“Better than you if you couldn’t hear her calling you,” Sirius laughed, but his eyes seemed to have lost a mischievous spark. “Do you think if you keep saying you love her, you’ll actually believe it?”

James glared at him and shook of Sirius’ arm. “If there’s literally any guy I wouldn’t take advice from, it’s you, Pads.” Sirius raised his hands in surrender. “Touchy today, are you Prongs?”

You sat down on the seventh staircase, opening your book. It was a muggle book that Lily had given to you as a birthday present. You looked at the necklace that James had bought you for your birthday. You had been afraid that he’d forgotten and been so thrilled when he had shown up at 10 in the evening.

The pendant was a flower, and even though you were not a botanical expert, you were very well aware that the flower was not a romantic rose or anything typically cheesy. You had a hunch what flower it was, but had refused to look it up, knowing that you would only be hurt.

Lily took a seat next to you. “The seventh staircase? Really? What’s wrong with the third?” She asked, utterly out of breath. You laughed, “hey, you invited yourself,” you defended with a fond smile. “Besides, since this is the highest staircase, it is the only one that is always in in a downward position, and won’t tilt and go upwards.”

“I guess,” she grinned, and she scooted over to see how far along you were in your book. “Oh my goodness, you’re getting to the good part!” she squealed happily. You gave her a warning look and closed your book. “No spoilers,” you sternly told her. Lily rolled her eyes playfully and nudged you. “I would never spoil this for you.”

“Alice and Marlene invited us for Hogsmeade this afternoon,” she casually mentioned, but she fumbled with her hands, signifying that she was nervous about something.

You raised your eyebrows. “Oh, well James and I were going to go together, so I don’t think I can join you guys this time,” you hesitantly told her.

Lily bit her lip. “James and the rest of the marauders already told Alice that they were going to join us this afternoon,” she softly explained. There was a conflicted expression in her eyes. “He overheard Alice and me talking about it.”

You pursed your lips. “Oh,” you nodded.

“Y/N, why do you let him do this to you?” Lily decided to ask you anyway.

“I’m not letting him do anything to me,” you defended. “He forgot to mention it to me, not a big deal.”

Lily protested. “We’re literally leaving as soon as their class is over. He wouldn’t have been able to tell you, Y/N. You would’ve-“

“-been waiting for him,” you finished her sentence. You bit on your cheek in thought. “I know, Lily,” you sighed.

“Then why-“

“Because I do believe he loves me,” you quickly tried to defend him, your voice raised in volume and Lily looked down. “He’s not perfect, but no one is,” you convinced yourself, recollecting yourself. You leaned against the stair post and looked down at the other stairs that changed directions, and the panicking first year students, who still hadn’t gotten the hang of it quite yet.

“He makes me feel so loved, you know,” you sighed when you looked back at her. Lily looked at you sadly. “When he remembers you, Y/N. When he remembers he has a girlfriend.”

You didn’t know what to reply because she was right. James could be the loveliest boyfriend when he wanted to. “It’s enough for me,” you eventually replied.

“It shouldn’t have to be,” Lily pointed out, but she sighed, knowing that this was a pointless battle. But she felt the need to bring it up whenever she noticed James discard you like that. She felt guilt. Both of you knew that the girl who was most often on his mind, was Lily.

Lily had finally given James a chance in their third year after a good two and a half years of James’ advances. Having outgrown James and the marauders’ childishness and bullying, specifically after the ‘Snape incident’, she’d broken up with him only three months in, leaving him devastated. You had been his friend, mostly through Sirius and Lily, and you had found him in the common room, disheveled from crying, so you had comforted him.

Something inside James had felt a pull towards you then. A sense of comfort or familiarity no doubt reminiscent of Lily, and his mind had been set on you. Of course, you had rejected his advances for over a year, absolutely appalled by his seemingly quick recovery from his breakup. And so another year would pass.

You hadn't even seen it coming. You didn't have a romantic interest in James, until you did. All of the sudden, you found yourself in love with James Potter. Not that you would ever admit that, of course. No, you remained steadfast in your resolve to keep things platonic, as the mere idea felt like a betrayal of your friendship to Lily.

But Lily had noticed of course. You had looked away ashamedly while assuring her that you were sure that it was just a fleeting crush, something that would blow over soon. Instead of judgment, her face expressed understanding and compassion as she encouraged you to stop pushing your feelings aside, going as far as calling James over, effectively starting your relationship for you.

And now, she watched as James treated her closest friend like crap.

“How about we head down in advance,” you suggested, dusting off your Hogwarts robe.

“Yeah, about time, don’t you think?” You peered over the stairs to see Marlene with her hands on her hips in a waiting manner.

“Hey guys, what are you doing here,” you laughed as Alice dragged herself up the last few steps to stand next Marlene.

“Picking you up of course, the guys are all waiting outside.”

Your heart warmed at the thought. Of course your friends would never have left you waiting by yourself to no avail. With a fond feeling, you and your friends descended the stairs again to go to Hogsmeade.

Sirius was sitting on the ground, knees propped up while they were waiting for the girls. He twirled his wand between his fingers. “Why are we going with McKinnon and such again?”

Remus next to him shrugged his shoulders. “They invited us, I think.”

Peter shuffled his feet uncomfortable. “Alice was inviting Lily and James invited himself and us.”

James grinned widely. “I mean, how awesome is it to go in a big group?” He enthusiastically asked. It was a rhetorical question, but Remus still felt the need to respond. “That’s great and all, but I thought you were going with Y/N?”

James blinked once and then twice. He jumped up from his leaning position against the wall. “Shit.”

Sirius burst out in laughter and threw his head back, hitting his a little too hard against the wall. “Oh Prongs, you crack me up,” he shook his head. “And you say that I am the worst at being in a relationship,” he huffed. James didn’t have time for finding the humor in this situation though.

He started to pace around. He completely forgot to tell you, he realized. “I’ll be right back, I’m going to go find her,” he quickly made up his mind.

“Find who?”

James’ head whipped around to find Alice and Marlene looking at him curiously. Trailing a few steps behind them were you and Lily, engrossed in a conversation about the book you were holding.

“Your girlfriend perhaps?” Marlene tilted her head innocently, but every fool could see the warning look in her eyes. “Don’t worry, we’ve got her back.”

You and Lily finally caught up to the group. “Hey,” you awkwardly waved, relieved when Remus and Peter threw you a smile, and Sirius got up to pat you a little too hard on the back, making you stumble a little. You smacked him in return, but a friendly laugh on your face. “I will hex you Sirius,” you threatened half-heartedly.

“Not with James’ wand, you’re not,” he replied and nodded towards the wand in your pocket. You huffed. “Well I don’t need a wand, I can beat you up with my bare hands,” you joked. Sirius took a step back to scan you up and down. “Not with those arms, you’re not,” he grinned.

Something tugged inside James, and he surged forward to catch your attention. “Y/N, how was your class?”

You frowned, but before you could answer, Remus spoke up. “She didn’t have class today, Prongs,” he remarked.

You nodded in confirmation but held up your book. “I read this book instead.” James instantly recognized the book “Little Women”, one of Lily’s favorites.

“That’s a nice book,” he airily commented. Your brows shot up. “You’ve read this book?” James nodded. “Well, I listened to it, you could read it to me if you want sometime. I mean, Lily-“

“I knew you would never willingly read a book,” Sirius interrupted him suddenly. And Lily shot Sirius an appreciative look. James quickly looked away. Right. He quickly glanced at you, to see if you had noticed the way he had almost mentioned when Lily would read to him on date nights. If you had noticed anything, you didn’t seem to show it.

James offered his arm, and you tucked the book under your arm before linking the other with his. “What fine weather, do you not agree, Milady?” James exaggerated in a posh accent.

You laughed and looked up at the sky. The sky was covered in dark clouds, and it looked like it could rain any given moment. “Why the weather certainly is… weathering,” you managed with a covered grin.

You handed him his wand from earlier this morning. “And you forgot this in the library,” you added. James twirled it around and the wand disappeared up his sleeve. “Is that why you were calling out to me, darling?”

“So you heard me?”

James’ heart skipped a beat, and he racked his mind to find a suitable reply. A lie. “Well, Peter did, but we were already gone,” he managed to excuse himself. You frowned a little and looked back at Peter who couldn’t look you in the eyes and you sighed.

“You heard me,” you repeated, and your grip on his arm was loosening. He felt you letting go and quickly adjusted himself, grabbing your hand instead. “You’re right, I heard you. I’m really sorry I didn’t wait for you,” he admitted. He brought your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it.

“Okay.”

When you arrived at the Three Broomsticks, James expertly pulled back a chair for you. “Just a butterbeer?” he asked. You nodded in response, but you hadn’t said much to him anymore and James frowned at the lack of your enthusiasm. When he returned with everyone’s order he sat down to your right, with Lily to your left. “Tadah,” he said, and he held up an extra package of sugar triumphantly.

“Merlin, I still can’t believe you drink butterbeer with extra sugar,” Sirius fake gagged. You kicked his leg under the table. “I just like sweet things,” you stuck out your tongue. “Besides, why are you not saying anything about Moony, he is literally crumbling pieces of chocolate in it right now.”

Sirius snapped his neck to Remus who looked up flustered. “Hey, why are you attacking me,” he complained.

James grabbed your mug and quickly sipped away the foam on top that you disliked and dumped the sugar into the mug. “There you go, on the house,” he proudly said. Your heart filled with fondness, and you appreciatively sipped from your drink.

James leaned in. “I love you,” he whispered, and he pressed a kiss to your temple, succeeding in making you flustered. “I’m in love with you too,” you mumbled back.

Gryffindor had won their first Quidditch match of the season and naturally, they threw a party in the common room. You had wanted to go when Remus and Peter had invited you, but James and piped up. “No, she doesn’t like those things. Too loud,” he confidently said, absolutely assuming.

“I like parties though?” you replied. You wanted to hang out with James and the marauders, and you were not scared of disagreeing with James. James looked at you with an unreadable expression. “Oh, well obviously you can come if you want. I just didn’t expect you to want to be among loud drunk people,” he recovered.

“What if she is one of the loud drunk people,” Sirius remarked from behind James. “Just because Li-“ James elbowed him in the stomach and Sirius groaned.

Perhaps it would have been wiser of you not to go. Maybe you should’ve been a little more like Lily, who had stayed in the dorms, snacking and reading. It sure would’ve hurt less.

“You will never compare to her.”

All you could manage was a bitter smile. James looked defiantly at you, but his eyes seemed to find it difficult to find focus. Your throat tightened and you tried to swallow, but still couldn’t find an adequate response to James’ hurtful words.

“I know that, James,” you eventually wryly replied. Of course you knew that, despite your attempts to be a better girlfriend by being more like Lily. You cleared your throat and furiously blinked away tears that threatened to show the impact of his words.

“You should go get some sleep,” you murmured, and you tried to coax him into laying down on his bed, desperately trying to ignore the issue at hand. Perhaps if you paid it no mind, you could pass this off as nothing more than a drunken insult that you could pretend never happened.

But James doubled down.

“You will never compare to her,” he repeated. This time he added some emphasis as well. You inhaled sharply. His words were no longer slurred, and his eyes seemed to bore right into yours. You’ve never felt so small in your life, your skin crawled uncomfortably as time passed in silence. You frowned deeply now and stared out the window behind James. What were you supposed to do with this information? It wasn’t new, but it was the first time the words had outright left his mouth.

You looked him back in his eyes. “Okay. I’m going to go and get you a glass of water for a hangover,” you slowly spoke up, trying to keep your voice calm. “Don’t forget you said this. I want you to remember that you said this because I need you to apologize for it when I get back, James.”

James groaned; his headache started to get worse. “Fine, go, but don’t come back today, I’ve had enough. And I won’t apologize tomorrow either.” James turned around a faced his back towards you. He was drifting off. “You’ll forgive me anyway, you always do. It’s the one thing you’ve got.” He mumbled. “At least you’re easier than her.”

Your face burned in embarrassment; your eyes shifted across the room as if trying to make sure no one had heard him. How long could you hold back your tears to keep your dignity, you wondered. Would you at least make it all the way to your own dorms?

“Okay,” you resigned shakily with a nod, slowly getting up while staring at his back. “I won’t be back.”

His breaths seemed to slow down to a steady pace, and you knew he had fallen asleep. Your arms hung defeatedly next to your body and your hand tapped your leg restlessly before reaching for your wand. You murmured a spell on the glass of water on his bedside. It would help him with his hangover tomorrow, and it would be the last act of affection you would direct at him, you decided.

You closed the door behind you and quickly untucked your hair from behind your ears, letting it cover your face. The path back to your own dormitory seemed longer than usual, each step weighed down by the burden of uncertainty.

You passed Remus in a hurry, who seemed to look at you in a concerned manner. Remus turned his head to see Sirius looking worried as well.

James stared at the ceiling. Against his own wishes, he remembered yesterday evening crystal clear. He frowned as he closed his eyes and sunk deeper into his matrass.

Of course he felt bad about what he said, but you were in so many ways like Lily. From the strange muggle expressions you had picked up from her, to your mannerisms, like the way Lily laughed with a hand in front of her mouth to cover her teeth, to your handwriting. Though he knew it wasn’t fair to you, it was so easy to compare you. If anything, it was difficult not to do so. But he was sure he loved you regardless.

You never left James’ mind as he got ready to head downstairs to the great hall. He should apologize to you, James figured. He walked over to his bed and downed the glass of water on his bedside. He laughed somewhat fondly to himself when his mind cleared up immediately. You had enchanted it, he realized. So how angry could you possibly really be, this time.

Feeling rather confident, James headed towards the Great Hall. The Hogwarts Great Hall buzzed with the usual morning chatter as students filed in for breakfast.

As he scanned the room, his eyes found you sitting beside Lily at the Gryffindor table. There was something different about your smile, a subtle sadness that didn't escape James' notice. He felt a pang of guilt wash over him, knowing he was the cause of your distress.

Lily, ever perceptive, shot James a cold look before nodding toward the empty seat next to her. James approached cautiously, unsure of how to navigate the tension that hung in the air.

"Thanks, Lily," he offered gratefully, though the discomfort in the atmosphere was palpable. Lily didn’t spare him a glance and got up. “I’ll wait for you outside,” she smiled encouragingly. She clasped her hands together and nodded at you before leaving. James stared at Lily.

You cleared your throat, drawing James' attention fully to you. His heart skipped a beat as he caught sight of your determined expression.

"You look dashingly beautiful today, darling," James remarked, hoping to lighten the mood with his usual charm.

But you met his gaze head-on, your resolve unwavering. "I'm not going to be the one you settle for," you declared firmly, your words sending a chill down James' spine.

Confusion clouded James' features as he struggled to comprehend your words. "Wait, darling, come on," he pleaded, reaching out to grasp your hand gently.

You pulled away; your tone was unwavering. "I'm not joking around, James. To me, we ended yesterday," you asserted, your voice steady. James felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, realizing the gravity of the situation. That this wasn’t a joke or a call for an apology. An apology wouldn’t fix this, he realized. How could he fix this? James’ mind raced.

"Yesterday- What? If it's about what I said, I was just drunk," he protested weakly, desperation creeping into his voice.

You sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and resignation. "You literally doubled down twice, James. Well, it doesn't matter anymore, but I wanted to close this off properly. That's it," you explained, placing your knife and fork on your plate, and pushing it to the middle of the table, where it magically vanished towards the kitchen. You rose from your seat.

James reached out to stop you, his words tumbling out in a rush. "Y/N, I swear, I was drunk. And I love you," he confessed, his heart was pounding in his chest. He felt his friends look at him in pity and he understood that they had already been filled in the situation.

But your resolve remained unshaken. "Yeah, I'm sure you love a certain part of me," you muttered under your breath, forcing a smile onto your lips. "Look, we can stay friends, yeah? You're a nice guy, James. And a damn good friend too, I just don’t think you were ever ready for another relationship," you concluded.

James was stunned by your resolve, unsure of how to respond, just feeling defeat. He could see that you had closed off. Trying to maintain some dignity, he nodded in acceptance. "Okay.” He whispered quietly.

“Well then, I guess I'll see you later," you managed to say, as you awkwardly nodded, catching yourself as your hands were mid-air, ready to clasp together the same manner Lily always announced her leave. Instead, you awkwardly held two thumbs up before turning on your heels.

As you walked away from James, a whirlwind of emotions churned within you. On one hand, your heart ached with the weight of unspoken words and unresolved feelings and heartbreak. You had been so in love with James.

On the other hand, somewhere deep down, you knew that the only way to get him to keep wanting you, was by imitating the girl he actually wanted. You had let so many things pass, not wanting to break up with James. But you’d done it. It was over. And you almost felt guilty for feeling so relieved.

Taglist: Some of the tags didn't want to work so sorry if you didn't make the list, the rest will be in a reblog

@mellowarcadefun @marauderssimpthings @tortured-artists @kazimierasm @ssc7514 @ietss @chieffanfun @narcissuspetal @jamesweather @nyrasunderwrld

@joeytribbiani18 @rafeslovergirl @peacheerries @littlenerdybee @anglfclulu @folksmione @daisydark @moonys0chocolate @fearlessmoony @vcosette

@moonyslibrary98 @poetsneil @olivshe @ihatethinkingofnames10 @petparkr @iamlizardgod @ttkttt @rosieandthethorns @eedwardss @meepmoopmopsworld

@xcinnamonmalfoyx @k0la22 @quackitysdrugdealer @lovelyteenagebeard @padf00ts-l0ver @littlemisslovestoread @queerqueenlynn @dot-erdana-blog @siimplyalea @stilesks

@daisiesformylove @lixzey @uwiuwi @jeansworld16 @v-loves-frogs @liv2post @nokkoongie @tylerstacobell @momdisappointment @jasminesacademia

#james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter imagine #james potter angst #james potter fluff #james potter fic #james potter oneshot #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #marauders era #marauder x reader #young james potter x reader

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arminsumi · 7 months

Note

First request ever: Can you make a story about Gojo, where their both in a relationship but gojo had to end it because he was afraid that she would be in danger?

Thank you! Keep up the good work, I love your stories!!!

LET ME MARRY YOU

↳ GOJO さとる + fem!reader

The risk of dating you his too much for him to handle, so he breaks it off, only for him to come back to your doorstep years later and ask: "Let me marry you."

Note : istg each time i edited this... the wordcount grew lol. i hope u enjoyyy 🥹💗 tysm for enjoying my work it means everything

Warnings : angst -> fluff (?) -> happy ending trust me, Shibuya arc spoilers (Ep 9), manga spoilers (chapter 221)

🍒 More from Jay : Gojo works / Gojo fave works / JJK works / oct. reqs open

The risk of dating you is thrilling when Satoru's just a teenager in puppy love. But as he grows older, and heads into those dreaded 20s, the risk makes him more and more nervous.

What if something happens to you?

He presses kiss after kiss to your forehead and feels his chest tremble, feels his lips quiver, as he refrains from telling you the truth about the Jujutsu world. Satoru just can't do it.

There are so many instances of him saving you from curses that you're oblivious about. He just smiles strangely, and you wonder why he looks like he's just seen a ghost. Because he has, those pretty eyes see ghosts. But those pretty eyes also see you, "What am I looking at?" he responds after you ask why he's looking at you so tenderly, "I'm looking at my future wife." he flirts just to fluster you.

That's at the cafe, when things are still simple. He keeps thinking to himself, as he lays with you in bed some nights;

I want to marry you.

I'm going to marry you.

Please let me be your husband one day.

As if he's trying to manifest it.

Everything is okay-ish... until he gets pangs of fright when your name starts to be known outside of his closed circle of friends.

It's October 11th.

Gojo Satoru breaks up with you.

He leads you to believe that the two of you are just "right person, wrong time". It all hurts an incomprehensible amount for him, to finally cut the string that tethers the two of you together.

He sits on the stairs, head in his hands, mourning.

He starts many mornings with crying spells that last until midday.

He destroys evidence of you and him. In case anyone ever finds it and thus finds your apartment, or work, or college... or anything.

But he can't part with a very special photo. It's you and him in Okinawa, sharing a cheesy kiss at the beach. In the moment this photo was captured, Gojo remembers having whispered some dirty joke in your ear and that's why you smiled so big into his kiss.

He drifts to sleep to the lullaby lovesongs that defined your love.

Years pass, he refuses to even talk to you. The heartbreak worsens with time, he laughs when he realizes that on his 27th birthday.

Isn't time supposed to heal all wounds? Someone said that to him once. Well, they must have been lying without realizing it.

The day Gojo Satoru is sealed, he looks into Suguru's eyes, and remembers you through them. When he resides in that awful prison realm, he only thinks of you you you you you you you oh god he misses you so much that it feels like the very thought of your smile stabs his chest. Every memory is painful. Every flashback puts one more crack in his heart.

"Can't I ever catch a break...?" He laughs to himself, chattering skeletons making their eerie symphony around him.

He thinks. Ponders. Wonders. Broods. Daydreams. All about you. Always about you. Never anything else. Just his first love, from the late spring of his 17th year.

His earthly goddess.

The purpose of his benevolent actions.

He cries. And sobs. And weeps. Because no one can hear him but the skeletons and he's sure they don't mind the sight or sound of a 27 man howling in pain over a lost lover.

It's not just your relationship that he's mourning. But the fact he can't feel you in this cube... that he can't feel your presence in the world... that's worse than the heartbreak. At least through all these years, he's been able to sense your existence. Feel the subtle ripples of your soul no matter how distant you are; you'd be stood in a coffee shop, he'd be at Jujutsu High teaching, and yet feeling you.

Because as he promised to you at 17, "Half my soul is yours. And half your soul is mine. I'll always be with you even if I'm not there."

He has the biggest breakdown of his life in that little cramped suffocating claustrophobic eerie creepy box.

It's 19 days later. He's out. He's back in the world. And he feels the sense of you, your existence, swelling in his chest, tickling his mind, prodding his heart.

"Gojo sensei, where are you headed?"

"I'm gonna go find my other half." he says cryptically.

It's a stark bright day.

Gojo Satoru knocks at your apartment door.

You open it.

He looks at you, and you look at him.

"Hi."

"...hey...? Wow. Haha... you grew into your features, huh?"

Your voice fills his heart with life.

"You too... glad you still live in the same place... I was worried you might have moved out..."

"... Ah, Satoru, you'd be able to find me no matter what corner of the world I resided in."

Your laugh fills his mind with pleasant memories.

There's an a magnetism between you and him just like there always used to be. It feels like two magnets connecting at last, after feeling the distant attraction throughout all these years of distance.

"You're right." Satoru says after a silence of just staring into your eyes.

"I'll always find my way home."

A silence ensues after he says this.

"...haha... don't cry... or I'll cry..."

"... Satoru... I thought of you every day after you left me at the station."

"... me too."

"... why did you leave?"

He stares at you.

"... I was scared of you being in danger."

He gulps.

"Me? In danger? But you're the strongest, why would it matter."

Oh god that's right. You said it then when you were 17, "You're the strongest" and he carried that title with him from then. And now you've said it again. He's reminded. He feels a bit stupid. A bit ridiculous. A bit...

"You're right..." he chokes up. "I am. I could have protected you I guess..."

"... yeah, duh."

He smiles meekly.

It was more complicated than that, sweetheart. But I won't tell you.

He hesitates. He contemplates.

"I have to tell you everything... will you promise to believe everything I say even if it sounds insane?"

"Of course. What is it?"

He inhales deeply. And instead of blurting out his whole life story of being a sorcerer in the Jujutsu world, he just leans in and kisses you hard and truthfully. Cups your cheeks. Closes his eyes. Tastes you like a sweet from his childhood that he hasn't had for years. Presses to you. Takes in your scent.

Yeah yeah... he'll tell you everything in a minute.

But for now just let him kiss you until he runs out of breath.

Let him just...

"Hey..." he pulls away, gasping, "Let me marry you."

"Haha, Satoru..." you take it as a joke and laugh, because it sounds as bizarre and unexpected as one. Then you realize there's that serious look on his face. "... Satoru?"

"Can I?"

"... what?"

"Can I please?"

"... huh??"

"Can I marry you, please?"

He looks at you and waits for your answer. His poor heart. It's palpitating. His whole chest cavity inspires with love for you. This man that you haven't seen in years has just asked if you'll let him marry you — with very specific wording.

Can he? Will you let him?

It's funny in a way, because you think to yourself; this is such a Satoru thing to do... show up unannounced years later on your doorstep and ask for your hand in marriage as if no time has passed, as if you know the full story.

"Satoru... what happened to you throughout these years for you to come back to me and ask for my hand in marriage?" you ask, genuinely baffled.

He swallows slowly. "I know I sound like I've lost my mind. But I promise I haven't."

"That's hard to believe. The Satoru I remember was always on the brink of mania. A bit insane but not quite."

You make him laugh. "Yeah..."

"So are you asking to marry me out of insanity?"

"No."

"Well alright then. I guess I'll marry you."

You make him laugh again, with that funny tone. He hasn't laughed genuinely in years... it's always been that plastic laugh. But this is his genuine laugh. Silky and quiet. The opposite of his demeanor.

"I guess I should be explaining everything to you properly... before I ask you something like that."

"You're damn right..."

"... don't scold me too hard when I tell you all the reasons I left. Or, if you do, then at least hold me while you scold me. And run your fingers through my hair like you used to."

"Satoru."

"Yes?"

His heart throbs. He looks at you.

"Stop standing at the doorway and come inside."

"Oh."

You sigh. He smiles. Then he bows his head so it doesn't hit the top of the doorframe. Damn tiny Tokyo apartments. Your archway always had it out for the crown of his head. You laugh when he bumps into it just like he always used to.

So the two of you sit down and just talk. And talk. Maybe cry a bit. Actually, you cry a lot. And he holds you. And he says he's sorry. He says sorry over and over, as if the word is a bandage he's trying to wrap around all your heartbreak wounds that he caused.

"I'm sorry."

Satoru's apologies aren't easy to come by, and when you receive them, they nurse your heart. It's the gentleness with which he says it, and earnest too. Each successive sorry means more than the last.

"My angel..."

When you call him this after he vents to you about his time in the Prison Realm, and his overwhelming duty of being the strongest, he breaks down completely and just weeps in your arms.

He sobs like you've never heard him sob before, like a dog.

Finally. At least for a moment. He could be weak. Let down his guard. Be raw. Be emotional. Not a teacher. Not a sorcerer. Just your boy. Your Satoru.

Your consolation is all he wanted throughout these years. He looks up at you, eyes red and sore, nose sniffling, and stares at you like he can see your soul.

"...Satoru?"

"Marry me."

You chuckle again.

"If that will stop your tears..." you joke.

He sniffles loudly and swallows, composing himself.

"I thought about marrying you so much when we were together... 'n I tried so hard to bite my tongue when your name nearly rolled off it while talking to my students some days. I was always..."

On the verge of saying your name.

He sniffles long and hard and waits for your hand to weave into his hair.

"Will you think about it?"

"I will."

There's a silence. Satoru feels hopeful. He lays on your chest, arms around you like you're his whole world that he won't dare let go of again.

"There." you say with finality. "I thought about it. Let's get married."

"That took you, like, ten seconds."

You laugh with him. "Yeah... I already knew in my heart when you asked me at the doorway... you know... Satoru... it's funny. When you left, it felt like half my soul was gone. And when you knocked on my doorstep, it felt like I was whole again. Does that sound freaky, or does it tie into all this... Juju... Jujutsu stuff?"

He's silent.

"I have no idea."

"Wow. My future husband isn't knowledgeable at all." you joke.

His heart flutters at 'future husband'.

"Sorry." he says, smiling softly, "My mind is blank when your fingers are running through my hair."

The two of you go on and on, until you're laid in bed sleeping at each other's side. Resting. And god, did Gojo Satoru need a good rest.

In your arms, he's no longer an insomniac.

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

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prettypinkprincessa · 2 months

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Rafe x sunshine reader ☀️

☀️ He thought it was a joke at first. The way you would peak in his room to say hi, to give him little treats, to ask if he was okay. You were overly sweet. And it made him sick. Today was the day of Sarah’s birthday party. She invited you, some other friends and of course, rafe.

“Rafe!! Go down and help y/n grab the cake out of the car!!” Sarah yelled from upstairs. Rafe groaned and headed out front.

“Hi Rafe!!” You wave and he rolls his eyes.

“Where’s the cake?” He asked.

“Oh! I already put it inside!” Before he could respond he looked you up and down. Noticing the tiny ass bikini you were wearing. Tits slipping out the side of your top. “Are you serious?” He asks.

“What do you mean Rafe?”

“…nothing.”

☀️ The whole day he kept an eye on you. Watching as you swam in the pool, how you ate your watermelon and sucked on your popsicles. You had to be doing this on purpose. I mean he didn’t believe you were this oblivious.

“Rafe?” You entered the back door walking over to him. Wearing his shirt.

“Sarah said I could use one of your shirts as a cover up…is that okay with you?” You asked, hopping up and down on one foot to the other.

“I mean you already have it on dont you?”

You giggle at his “joke” and he watches as you walk away. Ass print visibly jiggling through the shirt.

☀️ “Sarah tell your little friend to put some fucking clothes on”

“Huh!?” She questioned.

“Look at her.”

You sat on the couch comfortably with rafes shirt sliding down your shoulder. Knees up to your chin, putting your bikini covered puffy cunt on display. You look back at them noticing the way they’re both staring at you.

“Huh? Did anyone call my name?” You ask sweetly. Smiling at both of them.

He groaned loudly at your innocence, grabbing a sheet of paper and holding it over the bulge in his pants as he walked away.

☀️ As the night gets older more people start to arrive meaning, more men started to hit on you. Rafe lurked from a distance. Eyeing every man that approached you. Noticing how they glanced at your tits and stared at your ass as you walked away.

“Hey” Rafe said, standing infront you. “Hi Rafe!” You exclaimed. Smiling up at him sweetly.

“Um, where’s my shirt?”

“Huh? You look down and realize what he’s asking about, “oh! I took it off since I was going in the pool but…I can’t seem to find it” you scan around the room for his shirt before shortly returning your gaze back to Rafe.

“Okay well, here.” Rafe took his shirt off and handed it to you. His bare chest right in your face.

“O-oh thanks”

You take it and avoid his gaze. Not wanting to make him uncomfortable with your staring.

“So are you gonna put it on?” He asked.

“Oh! Yeah.” You smile while throwing his shirt on. It hung over your entire body. Looking more like a dress than a shirt. He smirked gently.

“There, that way people won’t hit on you”

“Huh?” You asked, not hearing him fully. He groaned and rolled his eyes.

“Nothing.”

💫 not proof read so sorry for any mistakes!!

#outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron #fanfic #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #tumblr fyp #fypツ #smut #fyp #obx fic #obx x reader #obx fanfiction

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insomniumstella · 7 months

Text

baby, she's all yours

bucky x fem!reader

warnings: free use (consent to be "used" anytime & anywhere), explicit language, fingering, oral (m! and f! receiving), a sprinkle of degradation, a sprinkle of breeding kink, dom!bucky, public sex, light spanking, daddy kink (i should be stopped). this one is bad, so it goes without saying, but MDI

word count: 1,240

author's note: this is a lil' story in celebration of kinktober, which time won't permit me to participate in, but my thoughts always wanted to. ➼ sharp, but oh so gentle

James was hesitant to explore the concept you described as free use at first, and maybe a fraction scared. The two of you had been dating for close to three years, and though things were great, the idea of you introducing free use into the bedroom days after knife play troubled him. His heart has always been heavy with the notion of being too difficult to love and too bothersome to deal with, but you made him feel enough; more than. Special in public when you would proudly hold his hand, and special in the comfort of plush sheets when you would let him cherish you — use and mould you into a drooling mess, obeying every demand. Was proposing a fresh kink a silent plead to advise him you have gotten bored?

As it turned out, it was. Kind of. The itch beneath your skin urging you to explore foreign waters wasn’t boredom but rather lust. Fiery hot and addicting type of lust that ignited every nerve ending in your body around him. Still does. Introducing Bucky to free use was the best—and the most deliciously infuriating—thing to soothe your constant yearning for his touch.

It caught you off guard, the first time he complied with the request. Steve had recently purchased an apartment in Brooklyn and organised a small housewarming celebration. You slipped out of the living room and into the kitchen once your glass turned empty, oblivious to the very needy pair of eyes studying you. The music muffled your soft moans then, as James fingered you against the blonde’s new refrigerator, suffocating the whines his thick fingers caused with passionate kisses.

The second time it happened, it was winter. Powdery layers of snow covered the entirety of New York City, and, as the sun laid to rest for the evening, the streets seemed magical. James and you were rushing to Natasha’s birthday dinner, stopping by Bergdorf Goodman for a last-minute gift. Time around holidays is always strenuous, but the missions almost doubled last year, rustles of a deadly biochemical weapon dampening the joy of Christmas and stealing your attention away from getting Natasha a gift early. Bucky tackled the three bottom floors whilst you handled the other three, scouring the variety of fine jewelry and designer clothing. As fate would have it, a gorgeous sequinned dress piqued your interest, the colour of it overly harsh for the redhead’s complexion but perfectly complimenting to yours. James practically pleaded for you to model it, assuring nobody would notice you being late a minute or two. Desire waltzed in his eyes when you agreed at last, twirling around to present the garment and flaunt how well it flattered your curves. He shoved the two of you into the private dressing room once the sales associate disappeared to bring out a pair of matching heels, closing the curtains and hiking the dress up to your waist. “Be good for me,” he spoke, undoing his zipper and slipping the tip of his cock into your dripping heat, “you wouldn’t want employees to hear us, would you, doll?” You couldn’t think of the gift you ended up buying Natasha, but you can still remember sobbing into Bucky’s hand as his hips feverishly snapped into yours.

Sometimes, that particular memory makes you wonder if introducing James to free use was a mistake — you’d be lying if you said it was because the thrill of being played with at times you least expect is exhilarating. The agreement caused many risky scenarios, though. There was that instance of Bucky between your legs, lapping at your core during a video call with your sister. The wooden desk shielded him from view as he relished you, but the grimaces on your features were a smidge more difficult to camouflage. “You taste incredible, baby,” Bucky mumbled, flesh and metal hands gripping the softness of your exposed thighs, before eagerly licking your clit. “Couldn’t ever get enough of this pussy.” You inadvertently moaned thrice during the call, disguising the sinful sounds by feigning coughs and attributing your strange demeanour to a common cold. “Tell her the truth,” James teased then, slipping a metal digit inside your needy hole, and you sneakily slapped his shoulder. The unsuspecting woman on screen continued to babble about her upcoming visit as you hit the mute button on your computer because the man below you had zero intentions of easing up. “Can feel you squeezin’,” he groaned, slipping a couple more of his metal digits inside. “Please end the call, peach, so I could fuck you atop this desk already.”

There was also the time he got annoyed on a road trip, freeing his cock and guiding your head downward to silence your complaints about his driving on unpaved roads. “Be a good girl and put that mouth to better use,” he grunted as you licked drops of pre-cum off his skin. “Na uh, doll,” with his left arm on the steering wheel, James forced the entirety of his length into your mouth, “we ain’t got time for any foreplay shit right now.”

Furthermore, introducing him to free use is the reason for your current predicament — being bent over the sink at a local bar with Bucky balls deep inside you.

“Takin’ me so well, sweetheart.” James praises, catching your gaze in the grimy mirror before spanking your velvety hips. “My girl’s such a slut for me, letting me play with her in a random pub’s bathroom.” It’s more of an observation than dirty talk, and you bite back a moan, nodding. “Bet you’re always thinking about daddy’s big cock, wishing you could be bursting full of me forever, aren’t you?” A harsh spank lands on your scorching skin when you don’t immediately answer. “I asked you a question, peach.”

“Yes,” you sob, digging your manicured nails into the base of your palm. “Love it—,” another wail slips past your swollen lips, “love it when you use me, daddy.”

The pace of his hips slamming into yours remains brutal as he studies your expression in the mirror. “Look at you,” he clutches your chin, the slight pain of it forcing you to peel your eyes open, “my baby’s so fucked out, she’s having trouble speaking.” The steady pulse of your approaching orgasm heightens as Bucky admires the whimpering mess that is you, leaning lower until the slight stubble on his jaw tickles your ear. “Should I let you finish, or should I leave you all desperate and stuffed full of my cum until happy hour’s over?”

“Please,” you plead, “I’m so close.”

“That’s too—,” James chuckles through a groan as his own orgasm bursts in syrupy waves, “—bad.” The rhythm of his movements falters and then stops, and if tears weren’t streaming down your face already, you would’ve cried at the loss of contact, feeling terribly empty without Bucky to keep you warm. Though you don’t say a word to him, he can sense your frustration, the weight of your emotions lingering in the atmosphere around you. Slithering his metal hands between your legs, he pushes the cum that leaked out back inside you, thrusting a couple times to soothe your disappointment before withdrawing his touch and shoving your discarded panties into the pocket of his jacket. “Don’t let it drip out if you want a reward when we get home.” A lazy grin stretches across his features. “I promise to make it worth your while.”

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader smut #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x you #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky x female!reader

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donatellawritings · 1 month

Note

thoughts on best friends dad!rafe!

introducing bfd!rafe & dolly!reader

there was pathetically sick part of rafe that got off on knowing that he still had it — especially with such a young girl like you who was an absolute knockout, absolutely eager and willing to bend to his every whim. he had watched you bloom into the young woman you were today, but the moment you turned eighteen, you became a bit more forward with your intentions. from wearing skimpy bikinis whenever you joined his sweet son on family trips, to the thin satin dresses that tented with your hard nipples on thursday dinners — you made sure to always look your best for mr. cameron.

but what made rafe melt was the way you were so immersed in him, you completely dismissed how his son was head over heels in love with you — and you can call rafe a sick man, but he always craved being the center of attention, no matter the costs. his little boy would just have to move on, not that he ever stood a chance against his overpowering and domineering father.

so, when rafe’s son asked if you could spend the summer at tannyhill, rafe was eager to oblige, masking his reasoning with ‘wanting his next of kin to be happy at home’, despite his true intentions of having you surrender all of yourself to him, now running rampant is his tainted and somewhat deranged mind.

on the first night of your extended stay, you found yourself sat beside your best friend’s father, your tooth-achingly sweet and doting best friend seated directly across from you, completely oblivious to the way his father stared at you with that same sense of longing and desire.

you liked mr. cameron — he was always so sweet to you, he bought you the finest birthday presents, complimented your girly, but borderline inappropriate outfits, and he always seemed to know exactly what you needed at any given time.

and maybe, just maybe there was a part of you that knew he felt the same way about you too.

carelessly leaning over the dining table, you fought back a knowing smirk as your swollen tits bulged against the hem of your sleeveless romper, the ribbed fabric clinging to your warm frame as you reached for a piece of bread, “thank you for having me, mr. cameron,” you sang, your sweet voice all light and airy as you glanced at the older man, your heart jumping as you caught his eyes stuck on the fat of your plush ass cheeks that managed to swallow the romper.

masking his faux pas with a forced clearing of his throat, mr. cameron licks over his lips with a smile, “well — ahem, f’course, my wife and i really appreciate how good of a friend you’ve been to our boy, isn’t that right, honey?”

rafe knew exactly what he was doing, his trained blue eyes carefully taking in the way your plump smile faltered into a brief frown and how the sparkle in your eyes dimmed. your bubble of security had been popped in that very moment as you tugged on the top hem of your romper, your nailed fingers lightly grazing over the baby pink bow that had been sewn between the valley of your breasts.

your oh so pretty and fake smile only intensified as mrs. cameron sauntered into the dining room. you absolutely hated how your shared likeness towards mr. cameron had soured your perception of the clueless woman who still viewed you to be the daughter she always wanted.

placing a manicured hand atop of mr. cameron’s shoulder, you watch as the woman leans down to capture rafe’s lips in a quick kiss, “mhm. you know that we love having you over, sweetie. you keep us on our toes, dolly” she laughs, gently nudging the apple of your cheek as she makes her way to her seat, directly across from mr. cameron.

dolly — the dear nickname that you’d been given by mr. cameron, you’d always been so wet behind the ears, dainty, and entirely too vulnerable. but, it didn’t feel right coming from her.

answering with a short nod, you are a bit too eager to change the topic of discussion, a silent huff of stress leaving your faded plum stained lips as your best friend furrows his brows at your standoffish behavior, “y’okay?” he mouths, softly nudging your shin with the tip of his converse.

“i’m okay,” you mouth back, a soft smile on your pillowy lips as you steal a quick glance at mr. cameron who catches your sneaky gaze, sending you a quick wink as he takes a sip from his glass of chilled red wine.

licking over your dry lips, you swallow thickly, popping a warm and fluffy piece of bread into your needy mouth as mr. cameron’s long and slender leg brushes against yours. fighting back a smile, you remain silent as mrs. cameron enlightens the table about her new endeavors at cameron development, your eyes glazed over as you quietly hook your leg over his firm thigh.

honing your focus into chewing the piece of bread in your mouth, you watch from the corner of your bambi eyes as rafe inconspicuously slides a large hand over the smooth skin of your waxed leg.

now lost in the sensation of mr. cameron’s hand gently kneading soothing circles around your ankle, your eyes widen as rafe’s voice cuts into your dazed state, “y’seem pretty sleepy over there, dolly — everything a’ight?” he questions knowingly, his buzzed head tilted to the side as his pink lips part in anticipation of your next words.

feverishly nodding, you send rafe a forced courteous smile, “yes, mr. cameron — just sleepy,” you answer politely.

returning his attention to his son and wife, rafe keeps a tight hold on your small ankle, the cold bite of his wedding band digging into your warmed and bronze skin. you always loved to prance around tannyhill barefoot, you’re pretty pink toes on full display, ever since your younger days.

and rafe was painfully reminded of that, a feigned smile of interest on his handsomely structured face as he gave your cute little toes a gentle squeeze, every now and again.

all while his poor son and unsuspecting wife sat and ate their overly priced steak dinner.

#asks #anon #obx #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron x reader #obx imagine #rafe cameron smut #bfd!rafe #dolly!reader #rafe x reader

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jamminvroomvroom · 6 months

Text

our secret moments.

ln x fem!reader // childhood friend to lovers

in which you’re friends. best friends. but then you buy a dress for him to take off.

this one is for you guys. thank you for inspiring this, my beloved dress anons. i hope you guys love this as much as i do, and that i got it right for you! obsessed with the concepts and brain rot that went into this aaaaaaa lemme know what you think i beg <3 also sorry if the formatting gets weird, trying out smau elements again :D

songs to set the mood: DRESS by taylor swift

warnings: 18+!! minors dni! smut, oblivious friends to lovers, fluff, minor angst, mutual pining, general sex acts, language, an argument

5.6k words

your dress sparkles like a mirrorball as the lights flash along the strip.

vegas week begins with a bang; it’s the night of lando’s 24th birthday. the name of your dad’s company is plastered all over the city, as it usually is wherever there’s a race weekend. a round of golf leads to dinner plans and you get dressed up nice with your girlfriends.

you’re almost ready when lando texts you, your friends giving you a look that you brush off when they see the papaya heart next to his name. you tell him you’ll all be ready soon, that’ll you meet him and the boys in the lobby.

high heels sound against the marble floor of the hotel. you walk confidently, tall, scanning for the group of men you’ll be spending the evening with. you spot max fewtrell first, your dear friend here for the occasion, and then ash, who has his back to you. it’s because he’s talking to lando, your best friend, the man that made you fly in to sin city a week earlier than you would have liked.

he’s looking at you before you even see him, watching you walk towards him over ash’s shoulder. he’s checked out from the conversation the second he spots you, glittering under the chandeliers. he can’t breathe, because you’re wearing a dress that renders him somewhere between life and death.

but you’re getting closer, and max, who can see the look on lando’s awestruck face, nudges him so hard in the ribs. he forces himself to inhale, smile, keep breathing.

“good evening, mr norris.” you grin, squeezing his shoulder. “we starting with slots or drinks?”

both is the agreed upon answer, and you let loose in the casino. you watch him roll the dice at one of the game tables, and suddenly, you’re twelve years old again, playing board games on the floor of a hotel room, while your dads talk at the bar downstairs.

your father is, perhaps, the worlds biggest motorsport fan. he’d been sponsoring different series’ since you were little, and he hadn’t stopped expanding as you’d gotten older. that’s how you’d met lando, aged ten years old with braids in your hair, covered in mud, somewhere in the english countryside. you’d been going to kart races since you could walk, and you were sure from the first time you spoke to the small british boy that you’d be destined to meet him. he’d left a mark on you that day, something golden; he radiated sunshine.

your friendship flowed like wine over the years, nice and easy. time on the road with your father meant that lando was the friend you saw the most, and it stayed that way throughout your teenage years. lando’s step up into formula 1 was paired very well with your dad’s investment into mclaren, and five years later, you rarely missed a race.

lando was so easy to be friends with that it was only natural that he was just as easy to love. platonically. you loved him platonically. it was easy to have late night dinner’s with him in his hotel room, easy to walk around the cities you visited with him until your legs hurt, easy to fall asleep on his bed after a netflix binge. so when he told you to pack your bags and be in vegas, it was like he’d pulled an invisible string, because of course, that’s where you would be.

your friend is waving her hand in front of your face when you finally snap out of it. you’ve been staring across the room for god knows how long, and now the girls are laughing at you.

okay, so maybe it’s not just platonically, but you’d rather die than admit it.

“still gonna tell us there’s nothing between you?” nancy, one of your closest friends, teases. your other friend, mia, is giggling beside her. they’d both flown out for the race as well, and had spent the last two years helplessly watching you fall harder and faster.

“shut up,” you whine. “he’s my-“

“best friend.” they both cut you off in unison, mockingly. nancy rolls her eyes.

“he is!” you protest, waving them off.

you leave them in the dust to join the lads at the table. lando’s arm is draped over your shoulder the second you arrive.

“lost your millions yet?” you whisper into his ear. he tuts in response, knowing grin on his face.

“you have no faith in me, honey.” he bumped your hip with his as he spoke.

the game continues, and somehow, much to your surpise, lando gets richer. the walk from the casino to the club is short, and soon enough, you’re drunk and sweating under strobe lights. rounds and rounds of shots disappear and you sink deeper and deeper into the booth you’d reserved.

you let the music thrum through your body, closing your eyes in contentment. a knee nudges yours, and you open your eyes to see lando sliding into the booth next to you. he hands you a drink, and you mouth him a thank you.

“got your eye on anyone here?” lando’s head is resting in the crook of your neck when he asks. it’s obviously just so that you can hear him.

you pull back from him, scanning his face for a moment, really taking him in. the slope of his nose, curls matted on his forehead, grey blue eyes that you swear flit to your lips for just a second. just a brief second. you smile, soft and tired.

“nope.” you mouth back to him. “you?”

lando returns your smile, mirroring you perfectly. he shakes his head.

it’s around 3:30am when you crave the sweet release of sleep. your feet are aching and your head is throbbing. no questions are asked when lando offers you a piggyback ride.

you ignore the way your friends look at you both when he carries you up to your room.

youruser just posted on instagram

liked by: landonorris, yourfriendnancy, yourfriendmia, maxfewtrell and 378,654 others

youruser: sin city for nozza’s birthday

user: are they together?

otheruser: mother?

landonorris: lost millions.

user2: the photo of the dress next to the photos of lando? she’s tryna tell us something i think.

and 444 other comments

you ignore the nausea pooling in the pit of your belly.

apparently, the medical centre isn’t that far away when you sprint there. harsh fluorescent lights greet you when you burst through the door, searching for a mop of curls and a burst of orange. your eyes find adam, lando’s dad, and you rush to his side.

“is he okay?” something about the fear in your eyes makes adam crack a smile. it seems there’s no hiding how you feel from anyone except lando.

“they’re just checking him over now, think they might take him to the hospital, just to be safe.” adam explains. “he was asking for you.” he smiles again.

“so it’s just precautionary?” you ignore the last bit. you ignore the way it makes your stomach twist and your brain fight to keep a smile off of your face.

“you can see him, if you want.” adam gestures towards the nearest examination room.

you’re gone before he can say anything more, bursting into the room without even thinking of knocking.

lando’s pretty much stoned. god knows what they gave him but it seems to be working; he’s propped up on the bed, cracks a sleepy smile when he sees you.

“hey, pretty girl.” he drawls, waving slowly. you pray you’re not blushing.

“scared me out there, you prick.” you joke, but your voice shakes.

“c’mere.” he frowns, so you walk around his bed. he slaps the small spot next to him clumsily, and you perch on the edge of the bed.

lando grabs your hand, pulling you in closer, eyelids drooping as he does it.

“i’m sorry, honey. always wanna race well for you.” lando is pouting. he’s fucking pouting at you.

“hey, hey, it’s fine! as long as you’re okay.”

he nods like a child being told off, but he doesn’t drop your hand. he doesn’t drop it in the helicopter to the hospital, either.

youruser just posted on instagram

liked by: landonorris, ashjbibby, yourfriendnancy and 344,555 others

youruser: alls well that ends well (but i’m in a new hell every time you go to the hospital)

landonorris: whoops?

user1: THE TAYLOR LYRICS HELLO?

user44: do y’all think we can’t see you.

user2: 3RD SLIDE HELLO?

yourfriendnancy: anyway. the dress ate.

otheruser: @ yourfriendnancy WHAT DO YOU KNOW

and 567 other comments

“i just don’t get why you keep wearing the fucking shoes if they hurt so much.” lando bumps your shoulder with his, teasing you.

“sometimes you do what you gotta do for the ‘fit.” you huff, trying to keep up with him.

you’re on your way to dinner with lando, marking your first night in dubai. the restaurant isn’t too far, but your shoes are simply not cooperating. you’d left lando to book a table, knowing that a name drop from him would mean good food and not too many people there to watch you both eat it. after vegas, the rumour mill was working overtime, and you’d had a headache for two days as a result.

none of your other friends have arrived in the emirates yet, so it leaves just the two of you to hang out. it’s something you usually love to do, but after the whirlwind of the last few days, it makes your tummy twist.

you can’t stop thinking about the hospital, your hand in his, the way he’d demanded you accompany him despite the presence of his literal father. you absolutely can’t stop thinking about “pretty girl” or the lazy smile on his face when he said it, like it was what he always called you. he usually sticks to honey, not the most platonic thing in the world, but he said it once and it just stuck.

you’re pulled out of your downward spiral by the way he suddenly comes to a stop in the middle of the pavement. you look at him confused, but then he’s making a suggestion that makes you want to lay done in front of an oncoming ferrari.

“want me to carry your shoes? you can put them on right before we go in.” lando shrugs. you must be blushing by the way he fights off a smile.

“lando, i cannot walk down the streets of dubai shoeless.” you scowl. he chuckles.

“says who? give ‘em here. you can wear mine if you want.” lando reasons, and after staring at him likes he’s grown a second head, you cave.

you start to crouch down but he beats you to it. your breath hitches in your throat when his fingers graze your ankle. you watch in shocked silence as he undoes each clasp, letting you step out of the shoes. the pavement is relatively cool under your feet, and it snaps you out of your state. you decline his offer of his own shoes, and he’s started walking again when you stop him.

“lando, why are you doing this?”

“you took good care of me last weekend. least i can do.” he tells you, and you nod once. “c’mon, we’re gonna be late.” he ushers you along and you walk the rest of the way in silence, silver heels swinging in his hand.

youruser just posted on instagram

liked by: landonorris, maxfewtrell, yourfriendmia and 332,211 others

youruser: dinner w bestie

user: lando took this. bet.

user3: her other friends aren’t in abu dhabi yet she has to be with lando

landonorris: how was dinner?

youruser: @ landonorris u tell me.

user4: a date if i ever saw one?

user63: are we sure they’re not just friends?

user4: @ user63 girl. be so fr

and 329 other comments

the restaurant is licensed, so you find solace in a glass of white wine. lando sticks to water.

your mains arrive and you natter back and forth, discussing the end of the season and any gossip you may have acquired. you barely stop laughing, head thrown back every time he opens his mouth. it feels easy again, and you find yourself thawing out, previous worries shoved to the back of your mind.

“so what’s next year looking like? last year of your degree.” lando wiggles his eyebrows, wearing a hint of pride on his face.

“might have to stay away from race tracks for a while. it’s gonna be a busy year.” you sigh. his face obviously falls.

“how long is a while? need my cheerleader.” it’s said in jest, but desperation lies in the outskirts of his voice.

“until the summer break.” you frown. you’d gotten far too comfortable studying on the road.

“can’t you continue as you are? i’m gonna mis- your dad will miss you.” lando corrects himself and your fork clatters against your plate.

“can’t get rid of me too easily, norris.” you clean up the awkward mess before it can even become one, returning to the lighter side of the conversation.

“trust me, i’m not trying to.” he flirts. in jest.

you roll your eyes and gulp down wine.

youruser just posted on instagram

liked by: landonorris, abudhabigp, yourfriendmia and 543,288 others

youruser: new heights n pretty lights

user2: i know who took 3/4 of these pics.

landonorris: i want that hat back btw

user6: she is the moment

user: mommy? huh who said that?

and 588 other comments

lando.jpg just posted on instagram

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lando.jpg: from the road

oscarpiastri: violation.

youruser: can u send me these. especially the one of oscar :)

user4: WAIT didn’t she post the second one a while? LANDO TOOK IT?

user81: oscar 😭😭

maxfewtrell: why don’t you take nice pictures of me like this?

user11: the wags are fighting omg

and 799 other comments

your back is to his chest and the music is unbearable. it doesn’t stop you from swaying your hips against his.

nothing beats the abu dhabi grand prix’s after party.

lando stays p6 in the championship, but it’s only by one stupid point. celebration is certainly called for, and you bask in the freedom of the season ending.

you don’t even want to think about the way he hugged you when he got out of the damn car.

so you don’t. you drink and you dance and you beg for someone else to try and take you home so that you can avoid him. you’re scared, fucking terrified, and avoiding him seems like the best option.

that’s until he finds you in the sea of people, because of course he does, and you get closer, closer, closer, until there’s no room for god and his hands are on your hips.

it feels too fucking good to stop, you can’t even compute pulling away, so you let yourself go. what’s the point in trying to hide the way you feel when he’s holding you against his crotch? ah, yes. a cornerstone of friendship.

but it’s too hot and it’s too bright and it’s too loud and the anxiety hits. it hits and you can’t stop the way you freeze up against him. you’re sick to death of pretending. you’re sick to death of nights like this one repeating themselves far too often, only to wake up in the morning and act like it means nothing. like the way he holds you and looks at you and touches you means nothing.

no matter how drunk he is, no matter how far gone he is, he knows you too damn well. he’s spinning you around in his arms and pulling you through the hoards of people.

cool air lands on your flushed skin and you realise you’re in the smoking area. lando looks wrecked, but he’s watching you as intently as he can manage.

“you okay, honey? want me to take you home?” he’s rubbing your arm as he speaks and tears well in your eyes. you’re not entirely sure why.

“stay, i don’t wanna ruin your night.” you croak. you need to get out of there immediately.

“no, no, no, you’re my priority, i’ll call us a driver and w-“

“stop it, lando. i can go back to the hotel alone.” he looks bewildered, and you don’t blame him. you sound harsh, way too harsh considering what he’d offered.

“i should take you.” he replies quietly and you feel bad.

great, now you are crying.

“just- i don’t want this to change, i don’t want us to change and if you keep on like this-“

alas, everything changes, then. every unsaid word is fair game and neither of you are holding back. the shots you’ve thrown back fuel an explosion.

“if i keep on like this? what, you think i don’t see the way you look at me?” lando’s words hit like venom and you’re white hot with embarrassment.

fiery despair hits you and you’re bound to regret every word when you’re sober and sane.

“at least i don’t fuck with your head.”*

“you think that doesn’t fuck with my head? the one woman i- fuck, you know what? it doesn’t matter.” he bites his tongue but you most certainly don’t.

“what? what, lando? as if the way i look at you compares to carrying my shoes and putting me to bed and calling me pretty and every other thing that you do to drive me up the fucking wall.” you spit.

your tears burn your cheeks, you’ve always been an angry crier, and they fall faster when he practically deflates and turns away, disappearing into the club.

you make your getaway, your father’s assistant sends you a car.

you cry yourself to sleep in your hotel room, watching the orange sun rise.

the flight home is quiet.

your plans to fly home with lando are abandoned, and you board the earliest flight available.

you never fight with him, so you don’t know how to proceed. everything had changed in a matter of words and you ignore the lump in your throat when you land in miserable, rainy london alone.

you’re surprised to see your dad’s blacked out range rover waiting for you when you get through customs. he’d been on the first flight out of the emirates as soon as the race had finished, and you assumed he’d be asleep for at least a day or two. the man never rests during the season, from the minute the lights go out in bahrain, until the flag falls in abu dhabi. then, he biblically crashes, the excitement and adrenaline hibernating until next year. average behaviour for the world’s biggest motorsport fan.

he’s out the car and opening the boot for you before you even reach him, and he’s pulling you into his fatherly embrace when you finally do. you let out a shaky breath, having been in desperate need of a hug.

“hey, kid.” he mutters into your ear. maybe it’s good to be home.

“what are you doing here?” you ask from the passenger seat, once all of your luggage is packed into the car.

your dad sighs, turning to look at you. you groan, thudding your head against the headrest. you know that look, the one that precedes a motivational speech, a bit of tough love, and usually very sound advice that you never ask for.

“lando called me.” he deadpans. they’d grown somewhat annoyingly close over the years.

“fantastic.” you reply, sarcasm as clear as day.

“he was beside himself. told me what happened.” your dad says softly and you squeeze your eyes shut.

“it’s so, so fine. i don’t wanna talk about this.” your voice trembles and you don’t have the energy to cry anymore.

“there’s nothing wrong with telling him how you feel, sweetheart. don’t throw something away because you’re scared.” and, here we go… you think.

“i can’t lose him.” you whisper, furiously wiping away the stray tears that fall, staring out the window.

“you won’t lose him if you tell him. trust me, kid. we all see how that boy adores you. no father ever thinks a guy is good enough for their girl, but lando comes pretty damn close.”

“i don’t even know where to begin.” you rub your temples, battling the tension headache you’d developed sometime the night before.

“well, start thinking. you’ve got a week.” you can see your dad smirking from the corner of your eye.

“what?” you blurt, blindsided. you’d need more than a fucking week.

“end of year gala, kid. pick a dress.”

fuck.

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mclaren: always good to see you! 🧡

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you’re glowing, draped in champagne pink silk.

from the other side of the room, you watch lando, and he watches you. it’s like a game, who’s gonna break first? who’s going to extend the olive branch?

he looks so pretty in his suit that you would cry if there were any tears left in you, if you hadn’t purged them all out of frustration and longing in the week of radio silence.

you’re nursing a glass of champagne, waiting for dinner to start. the room is full of rich people with big ideas, icons of the racing world, both past and present. you make small talk with oscar and his girlfriend, exchange pleasantries with your father’s many friends, and beg that lando makes the first move.

the clinking against a glass indicates that dinner is ready to be served, and you scan the tables for your place card. apparently, the event coordinator has a vendetta against you, because scrawled in deep orange cursive on the place card next to yours is mr lando norris. you scan the room for the nearest exit. your grand scheme to flee in a floor length gown and too high heels is interrupted by the sound of your chair scraping out next to you.

you feel a ghost of breath against your bare shoulder. curls tickle your skin and then, a head rests in the crook of your neck.

he says your name, and the world stops for a second.

“i’m sorry.” lando whispers in your ear, and your heart falls to your stomach.

you whip around, holding him tight as you wrap your arms around him. the tension plaguing your body since abu dhabi dissipates in seconds.

“don’t apologise. just… i missed you.” you sigh.

“you look… fuck. you’re gorgeous.” he breathes in your ear. one hand skims low over your waist. something inside of you explodes.

you don’t even try to fight the blush that tinges your cheeks.

someone important is trying to make a toast, so you take your seats. you’re not listening to a word being said, though. you just smile at lando, and lando smiles back.

you’re gonna tell him, you decide. he has to know, although you suspect he already does; you can’t imagine another day without the privilege of him looking at you the way he is right now.

dinner is a breeze. you eat, drink, laugh at the stories exchanged. you remember why you love this world you were raised in, and find yourself grinning mindlessly at your father as he rattles off yet another wild tale from your travels. you’re lucky, you know you are, and it’s reaffirmed when the man sat beside you - who you think you love a bit more than platonically - drapes his arm over the back of your chair.

plates are cleared away and a band starts their set on the makeshift stage. the mtc is lit so beautifully, fairy lights twinkle above you casting dainty light over the makeshift dance floor.

“dance with me.” lando requests. he hates to dance at these functions, so you know the request comes from the heart.

“lead the way.”

he takes your hand and you make your way onto the floor, which is slowly filling up with other couples. his hold is firm, yet gentle, and you lean into him as he keeps you close. eventually, your ear is to his chest, and you can hear his heart hammering away. you melt further into him as the song plays out, and you wish it would play forever.

“we gonna talk about it?” lando murmurs, just loud enough over the music.

“we are.” you mumble against the lapel of his jacket.

“come home with me.”

you nod, inhaling the scent of his cologne; god, how you missed every little part of him.

you keep dancing and dancing, until the champagne runs out and the band starts to pack up.

the door slams softly behind you.

lando takes your coat, and you drop your bag on his coffee table. when you turn around to find him, he’s stood in the doorway watching you. there is so much to say, but you can barely form a thought.

“i can’t take this any longer.” lando tells you.

your breath hitches in your throat.

“neither can i.” you whisper.

“we can be more.”

“what do you want us to be?” your chest is tight and you’re looking at him so fucking intensely, desire as clear as day in your eyes.

“you know what i want. and i know you want it too.” he walks towards you slowly as he speaks, footsteps punctuating each word.

“i need to hear you say it.” you breathe. you’re shaking; you’re not sure if it’s the anticipation or the way you’re holding yourself back.

“all i want, all i ever wanted, is you.” he’s right in front of you and his hands are on your waist. you’re tingling everywhere.

lando’s nose bumps yours. you’re scanning his face, every line, freckle, slope that maps him out. he can’t help but look at your lips, darkened eyes flitting over your face. all you can hear is shaky breaths, and perhaps your heartbeat ringing in your ears.

“can i…?” lando mutters.

you close the gap some more, lips brushing his.

“of course you can.”

he kisses you like he’ll die if he doesn’t. his hands cup your cheeks and yours find his neck, gently pressing your fingertips into his skin. lando’s frantic, passionate, oh so careful as he deepens the kiss, pulling you somehow closer. you hum in surprise, and you feel him smirking. he’s moving hungrily, and you’re starving, impatient when your hands find his curls. the groan he emits at the sensation makes you ache for him all over.

you’re both panting when you pull away, the urgency to breathe the only thing stopping you. the relief you feel is astronomical, your lips lock perfectly and he feels wondrous under your explorative hands. he smiles wide and you grip his collar, pressing your forehead against his.

“i was gonna tell you, and then you turned up looking like this… fuck.” lando groans, and you can’t help but lean up into him once more.

the kiss is slower this time, languid, and he licks slowly into your mouth. his pupils are blown when you break apart and his eyes flutter open. your thighs clench under your dress.

“so, you like the dress?” you giggle incredulously, buzzing from the interaction. lando looks at you like you’re stupid.

“you look…” he runs his eyes over you, pausing mid sentence tentatively.

“say it.”

“fucking incredible.”

“thanks. bought it with you in mind.” you tease, smirking coyly.

his jaw goes slack; you can see him mentally undressing you, and then he’s kissing you all over again.

his bedroom isn’t far, but he insists on carrying you there, sweeping you up into his arms. he peppers kisses over your neck, kicking the door open with his dress shoe.

lando places you on your feet at the foot of his bed, smoothing his hands over the curve of your waist, the silk of your dress. he tucks your hair behind your ears, drawing you close once more as he does, cupping your face in large, calloused hands.

“what do you want tonight?” lando asks, searching your face for any sign of hesitancy.

“need you. all of you.” you keen into his touch, and his breath hitches in his throat.

“we’ll go slow.” he murmurs.

“no.” you shake your head, and his hands drop from your face. “don’t want to hold back anymore.” he finds your ass, grazing his fingers upwards until he finds the fastening of your dress. you maintain eye contact while he drags the zip down, shivering as your hear the faint buzz of the metal.

lando stops, just for a second in an attempt to compose himself.

“take it off. bought it so that you could take it off.” your brutal honesty breathes some urgency into him.

he keeps his eyes on yours as the silk falls off your body, pooling at your feet. the cool air brushes your skin - covered only by lacy panties and stilettos - but his touch warms you when he grabs your waist. lando walks you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the foot of the bed. he places you on the bed, on top of you like a shot, kissing you into the mattress.

he clambers off of you, sliding down your body until he reaches your heels. kisses trail up your legs while he takes them off, the thud of them hitting the floor making you jump. anticipation pools in your barely there underwear; he can see you, all of you, and he cannot bring himself to look away.

“careful with those, they were expensive.” you joke, but your voice sounds wrecked already. you can’t even imagine how you’ll sound when he’s done.

“i have different priorities right now.” he flashes a grin and you lose him between your legs.

your underwear stay on when he dives into your pussy, teeth scraping over your covered folds. he can definitely taste you already, stuttering out a moan as he casts his tongue over you. you sink deep into the sheets, bucking your hips into his face, but his hold on you is firm and you have to relent. he lets go of you for a moment, just to pull your panties down, and as soon as they’re gone, he’s delving deep into you.

the sounds he’s making are obscene, his entire face buried away. lando flicks his tongue over your clit, beginning an extended assault on your nerve endings, sucking hard and fast until you whimper his name. a knot forms in your core.

lando takes his mouth off of you, lips slick and glistening. he swipes his tongue over them, sitting back on his haunches. he begins rolling his sleeves up, and you manage to push yourself up so that you’re resting on your elbows. you reach out to toy with the buttons of his dress shirt, leaving his torso exposed to you. you rake your nails over his abs, transfixed on the way he tenses, shudders under your touch. once his sleeves are out of his way, he pushes you back. your hair fans out around you as he resumes his position between your legs.

one finger ghosts over your clit, poking and tracing the bud. you’re reeling, writhing at the feeling of everything and almost nothing at all. he drags the digit down until he finds your entrance, abandoning the teasing and slipping it inside of you. he twists his wrist, adding a second finger, grinding them deep. he’s slow with it, watches the way your face twists in euphoria, finding a deep sense of pride in the way he makes you shake.

“you have no fucking idea how long i’ve wanted to do this.” his words have you clamping down on him, fucking yourself onto his hand.

“the feeling’s mutual.” you gasp.

lando cocks an eyebrow. he scales your body until he’s hovering over you again, fingers still working in and out of you. the angle change is delightful, your back arching and your nipples harden as they skim his bare chest.

“is it, honey? was it mutual all those nights i pictured you next to me, right on this bed? all those nights i watched you dance in your short skirts? all those nights i carried you to bed and wished i could stay?” he whispers right into your ear. his fingers speed up.

“fuck, lando. yes.” you cry, mouth hanging slack.

“tell me. tell me how mutual it was and i’ll let you come, pretty girl.” he teases; goosebumps litter your skin. there he goes again with pretty girl. this fucking man.

“always wanted more… was too scared to ask for it.”

“oh?” he coos, mockingly.

“couldn’t lose you if you didn’t want me.” you pant. a weight lifts off your chest as you let the words slip, his efforts sending you hurtling towards an orgasm.

“not going anywhere.” he kisses the base of your throat. “ever.” he punctuates, thumb sliding over your clit. “let go, love.”

the wave of pleasure crashes on your shores and it doesn’t stop, rippling through your belly and down into your toes. lando’s name falls from your lips like a sin, over and over until you can’t even hear yourself anymore.

lando’s smiling when you come down, small and knowing. he pecks your lips, once, twice, humming into the kiss when your hands find a home under his shirt. it’s unbuttoned already, so it slides over his bronzed shoulders easily. you hear it thud softly when it hits the floor.

“what?” you catch him looking at you, giddy.

“i can’t believe we’re doing this.” he grins. his words overwhelm you.

“i know.” you beam up at him bashfully.

he undresses himself and then the wait is over, and god knows it was a long one. he finds home between your thighs, runs his cock through your folds.

“you sure?”

“don’t make me wait any longer.” you insist.

it takes you a moment to adjust; he strokes your walls nice and deep and you feel everything he has to offer you. it’s surreal, really, stretching around him like this. you’d only ever daydreamed of the possibility, and now that it’s happening you can’t quite believe it. he moans low, forehead resting on yours. you watch his eyes roll back when he bottoms out.

your lip is quivering; it’s too intense, he’s too good. he takes it slow, just like he’d insisted, but he grinds deep, long strokes making you dizzy. you leave imprints of crescents in his shoulder blades, marking his pristine skin.

you can’t take much more of this, his hips hitting yours at such a delectable pace. he drags in and out, building a blissful rhythm and you’re whimpering into his neck. your teeth dig into the muscled plane of skin, minimal pressure applied, and his thrusts turn erratic, curses tumbling freely from his pink parted lips. it makes you squirm, spilling all over him, white hot and wet.

lando collapses into your damp body, the room is humid. you drag your nails through his hair, pushing the sweat slicked curls off of his forehead, and then your hand thuds lazily against the pillow.

“i’m done pretending.” he mumbles. “i’m yours.”

the last few years of your life flash before your eyes. you think back to his buzz cut and every time you’d failed to rebound. you think of bleached hair and lies about love and how he always saw the best in you. you think of nothing but him, you, together. he’s carved into you now, you think he always has been.

you fall asleep happy. you’ll wake up by his side and then you’ll do it the morning after, and the one after that too.

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youruser: our secret moments

landonorris: “only bought this dress so you could take it off” 🕺🏻✨💘

youruser: @ landonorris omg shut up (omw over)

user1: FINALLY

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taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @rachstash @infinitebells @multilovebot @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239

maintenance: i’ve removed any tags that weren’t working! lemme know if you wanna be added or removed!

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doobea · 10 months

Text

I CAN MAKE YOUR BED ROCK - RIN ITOSHI

synopsis: You're a famous online smut author, married to an international superstar athlete, and everyone around you thinks you have the perfect sex life. What they don't realize is Rin sleeps in the guest room and you're still very much a virgin.

contents: fem!reader, arranged marriage, suggestive themes but nothing too explicit (read with caution), characters are all in their mid/late-20s, reader has a small supportive friend group of other smut authors, mentions of alcohol, sex toys, and lots of failed attempts to seduce an oblivious (?) husband, mdni word count: 2.4k a/n: you guys already know that this is gonna be a wild one. is this my debut attempt to write smut but make it a romcom? maybe. this is gonna be a four-part series!!

一 : Oh baby, I be stuck to you like glue ->next.

To say that you’re infamous on the internet isn’t an exaggeration but a truth. No, you haven’t posted anything controversial regarding your marital status and haven’t gotten yourself into a crazy D-List influencer scandal; you’re infamous solely because of your erotica literature and, surprisingly, your in-laws were fine with it.

“Whatever brings home the money.” Your father-in-law would always chime.

You weren't ashamed of your career, and it practically all started in college when you wanted to pass the time writing for your favorite fandom. In a short amount of time, you had gained a small devoted following on your blog that made a lightbulb switch go off in your head - what if I could do this for a living? And so you did. Fast forward three years, now you are making a comfortable living working from anywhere with a wifi signal available and have over 950k followers on your socials, all under your alias 'YN Finalis'. With that many followers, most people would feel worried about their personal life being breached, but you're not dumb; you like to keep your personal life on, what you like to call, "low battery" mode.

Here's what your near million followers do know about: you’re 24 pushing on 25, you've come from a rather wealthy background, you’re married to an athlete, you’ve written well over 40 original explicit stories, and you have a plethora of sex toys and contraptions in your master bedroom.

What they don't know is: you're in an arranged marriage with Rin Itoshi for the past year, he only sleeps in the guest bedroom, and you're a virgin with a really creative mind.

Crazy, right?

But it's not like you're alone in your thoughts, today was the day when you decided to finally vent to your close fellow internet authors about your sexual frustrations.

"My in-laws keep asking me the same thing every time they call," Your voice reaches your laptop where your weekly meeting was set up on the kitchen counter. "I mean just how do they expect us to have a kid when my own husband doesn't even touch me?" You finish the remaining wine in your glass in dismay as sudden gasps were heard from the laptop's speakers.

"He hasn't initiated sex with you in these last few months?" Chigiri gasps.

"More like in the entirety of our relationship." You cry as you pour out another glass. You pick up your laptop, frowning seeing everyone's solemn looks, and make your way to your living room couch. "I'm still a virgin for crying out loud, like who's still a virgin at 24?"

Probably a lot of people but this is about you, not them!

"Oh my god," Hiori looks like he was going to cry for you. "Maybe your husband's just shy? Could it be he hasn't found the right time for it?"

"But a whole year?" Bachira is next to speak. "No wonder your stories have been popping off, you've been super horny."

You try to hold back your drunken sniffles. "I just don't understand! It's not like I'm ugly or anything, plenty of people wanted to date me back in college! He comes home to a clean house, I make fantastic meals that aren't just a ham and turkey sandwich, and for his past birthday I even gifted him an all-paid trip to Okinawa!"

"Shit," Shidou whistles, "I'd fuck you if you made me a ham and turkey sandwich."

"Not now for jokes." Hiori scolds and his tone softens when he speaks to you, "Outside of sex, has your husband been good to you?"

You pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration. "God, yes. He's so good to me you have no idea."

It wasn't like Rin was neglecting you in other forms of intimacy. Hugs and brief kisses were frequent both in and outside of the house. He loves holding your hands, shopping for clothes with you, giving you forehead kisses, and kissing you 'good morning' and 'good night' every day. There was absolutely nothing wrong with him, other than the occasional 'I'm irritated and I need my space' phase that required a whole evening to himself - but that was beside the point.

"Have you guys even talked about it?" Hiori continues.

"Oh god, absolutely no, it's an arranged marriage for fuck sake. What if I come off too strong and he doesn't even see me like that? Then the whole marriage will just be awkward!"

"But he's willing to do all those other things you listed down, maybe he is just shy." Bachira retorts.

"You think maybe he swings the other way?" Shidou asks but it's genuine this time.

A long period of silence falls over everyone as they try to figure out what they could help you with. But ultimately this was your husband to figure out, Rin wasn't married to them and they don't even know who Rin Itoshi was.

“Ah, whatever!” You swirl the wine in your glass around, frowning at your sullen reflection. “Maybe we’ll just end up adopting a baby instead of having one, maybe his parents won’t be able to tell the difference. And maybe I’ll just have to resort to reading other smut to satisfy my lack of intimacy. Chigiri, when is that next chapter coming out?”

A few clicks are heard from the other side of the screen before he says, “You’re in luck, I’m about to have my friend beta read this and it should be up by tonight.”

Perfect, you thought.

Chigiri, whose online username is RedPanther, has the third most followers on the adult website that everyone in the group was a part of. He's known for his works centering around the tropes 'forced proximity' and 'enemies to lovers', often the smut he writes will include a steamy threesome that has some sort of pegging involved - but that's always towards the second to last chapter.

"Oh!" Bachira calls out your name with a smile, "Aren't you working on a new story yourself?"

“Remind me again,” Shidou leans forward, "what's this one about?"

You find yourself feeling slightly lighter now that you've vented and the topic has shifted to something you're more confident speaking about. After a few seconds of rummaging through your Word documents, you drag the file labeled "I CAN MAKE YOUR BED ROCK - rough outlines & ideas.doc" to the group chat. Rarely do you ever share your creativity flow with other people but, after your unwarranted trauma dump, you figure it was better than nothing.

"Funny enough, it's loosely based on my marriage." You confess sheepishly, "This is my way of coping with it, I guess."

"Nothing wrong with that." Hiori chimes in, "It's free compared to having a shitty therapist!"

"Damn woman," Shidou's pink eyes dart back and forth from the screen, eyebrows furrowing up and down as he makes his way through your well-detailed outline. "you need to get laid, ASAP."

You click open your story file to follow along. In the tags section, you listed: Arranged marriage, unrequited love/one-sided, brat tamer, BDSM, choking, spanking, spitting, breeding kink, cum slu–

Okay, maybe Shidou is right (which is a surprise), you do need to get laid. But it's also okay to get slightly defensive for the sake of your ego, right?

You playfully roll your eyes at your group mate. "Ok ok, no need to judge that hard coming from the person who literally writes degradation kinks for a living!"

"Well, I think this story will be your best one yet!" Chigiri and Bachira both flip you a thumbs up over on their end of the call.

After a few more exchanges of small story updates in everyone's life, you all decided to end the call since it was getting rather late in the afternoon and you have yet to get started on dinner. You briefly thank Chigiri for his upcoming update and hop off, just in time before you hear the familiar sounds of the front door opening.

"I'm back."

"Welcome back, Rin!"

You can't help but feel slightly embarrassed and guilty that you were essentially gossiping about your husband's lack of sex drive to your friend group, which he hardly knows about, when he comes home with a large bag of takeout and your favorite coffee order. Rin is dressed in his typical workout outfit, which consists of a black form-fitting t-shirt and grey sweatpants that were just loose enough that you can still make an outline of his 'magic jewels', as Bachira likes to write.

"Baby, you didn't have to." You quickly grab the items from his hands so he can set down his gym bag.

He hums in response, briefly kissing your forehead before making his way into the kitchen to fetch a tall glass of water. "You've been cooking all week so I wanted you to take a small break," Rin says with a smile.

Your ears go warm and mimic the smile back, “Thanks, how was practice today?”

He sighs through his nose and wipes away the remaining sweat-covered bangs sticking to his forehead. “Rougher than usual but nothing too crazy. Isagi was more annoying compared to yesterday.” Rin says with a small pout.

“Boo,” You stick your tongue out in agreement, “how dare he annoys my one and only husband?”

“Oh, shut up.” He flicks a finger to your cheek and lets out the slightest fake scoff.

After hydrating, Rin announces quietly that he’ll come back to eat as soon as he takes a shower and darts to the guest bedroom. And with that, you’re reminded of your odd predicament.

He is a good husband and knows that you care for him and vice versa. When both sets of parents first introduced you two, it was awkward and you knew from reading his background that he wasn’t the most sociable of people but you were, and still are, patient. This arranged marriage was more or less a business deal between fathers; your father held the CEO title at a top entertainment company in the nation and Rin’s father wanted to secure the spotlight for the growing star athlete. Rin didn’t say much during that meeting, and neither did you.

Your first kiss with him was also on your first date. It was at his apartment, both of you shared the same hobby of playing horror games, and you were sitting thigh to thigh on his two-seater couch. You were dying multiple rounds in, fingers bruised from button-mashing and mind-busied with inappropriate thoughts as you kept stealing glances at your painfully attractive fiance. It didn’t take long for Rin to notice because it was stupidly obvious. He sat his controller down, took one look at you, and asked, “Do you want me to kiss you?” with a weird little smile that was seemingly almost out of character from what you knew of him. And the kiss was … awkward to say the least. You remembered him leaning down and you were leaning up, mashing lips and a little bit of teeth together. No amount of research that you had done days prior could’ve prepped for that. And it was almost as if it was his first time kissing too, but you fixated on your inexperience than pay any mind to his mysterious relationship track record.

One year later and you’re still stuck at first base.

As if on cue, you feel your phone give out a series of buzzes in your back pocket, already knowing that it’s from your online penpals. You break out from your thoughts and scroll to the top of the messages:

Bachira M. [BluntBangs] “You should try seducing him tonight!” Hiori Y. [ChoppyCyan] “You remember reading Chigiri’s fan favorite short story - “Till Death Do Us Part”? There was this one scene where the characters had to share one bed because the other bedroom got ruined by a leak! Maybe you can “accidentally” make that happen too?” Chigiri H. [RedPanther] “I remember I had a fun time writing that scene. You should definitely try and flirt with him, y/n.” Shidou R. [HornyDemon] “And if your husband won’t fuck you then I will /jk” Hiori Y. [ChoppyCyan] “Shut up you’ll fuck anything that has a pulse”

They weren’t necessarily wrong. You didn’t want this dynamic to potentially go on for another year or even for the rest of your life - trying wouldn’t hurt anyone, right?

You quickly fill up a pitcher of water then peer into the spare guest room and notice warm lighting bleeding through the cracks coming from the bathroom door and the sounds of running water. With Rin still busy washing up, you take the liberty to start messing around for your impromptu operation. You weren’t exactly sure when or who suggested sleeping in separate bedrooms to start but, to your knowledge, this is the first time that you’ve actually sneaked around in his room.

You start with the closet, opening its double doors and seeing his clothes all hung in order and by color. His sneakers and cleats were all stored in separate clear cases in the bottom corner while there is a small center shelf in the middle that holds his cologne, deodorant, and moisturizer. He’s neat, you think to yourself before deciding that it’s probably best to leave his belongings alone and focus on ruining something in the room that was less personal. Next is the carefully made bed with extra fluffed pillows, then the freshly well-kept plants on the window sill, followed by the small framed photo of your wedding day on the bedside table. Guilt immediately rushes over your consciousness.

“No, this won’t do either.” You groan, suddenly feeling like this is the dumbest thing on earth now. “I should just give up.”

“y/n?” Rin’s voice calls out and you snap your head towards his direction, soon to be met with a series of incoherent sputtering from the male as you realize that he’s completely wet and naked.

“Oh my god!” Hands and pitcher fly to your redden face as you try to come up with an excuse but nothing comes out the way you want it to, “I-I uh–water! I thought you needed more water–I’m sorry!”

You hear him scrambling around the room, most likely searching for a towel to cover up his impressive lower half. “You’re fine,” Rin’s voice sounds flustered and unusually high pitched, “just give me a second–”

“N-No I’m sorry! I don’t even know why I’m standing here I should just go and–” Closing your eyes might’ve been the worst choice all day because soon your body meets the wall and soon the floor, spilling the pitcher’s contents all over you in the process.

Your phone vibrates again, text reading:

Bachira M. [BluntBangs] “Did it work?!”

#blue lock #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock x reader #doobea writing #itoshi rin #rin itoshi #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin x reader #blue lock smut #itoshi rin smut #rin itoshi smut #bllk smut #idk how slow but like slowish #they are not gonna fk until like the last chapter i think #but will do everything else in between #i can make your bed rock - rin itoshi #mdni

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sadesluvr · 5 months

Text

Three Simple Wishes - William Afton x Reader

It’s Vanessa’s birthday, but her father William ends up getting the best present.

A/N: Pure filth, yet again. This has gone through a BILLION iterations, but I’ve finally done it…I’m off to horny jail. Minors DNI!

Word count: 3.5K

Tags: SMUT / Dom + Sub dynamics / Dub-con / Age gaps (Reader is in her 20’s) / Infidelity / Costume sex / Perv! William / Oral sex, male and female receiving / Sex toys (Vibrator) / Multiple orgasms / Unprotected sex / Creampies / LOTS of use of the term 'Princess' / William is just NASTY, ok? And a bad father but we knew that

Being a Rent-A-Princess was far from glamorous, but sometimes it was rewarding. As for the other times? Having to endure sleazy men who hire you for bachelor parties, and cleaning yourself up from that one sickly child who puked on your dress.

You hoped today wouldn’t be one of those days.

It seemed promising enough to start, until you’d apparently shown up an hour early.

“I’m sorry,” a man named William said. You’d quickly learned he was the birthday girls’ father. “Sarah should’ve told you that they were going to the movies first. It’s funny how she can forget that, but not to nag about everything I do,” he said matter of factly, swigging his drink.

So he was the complaining husband. Nothing you hadn’t dealt with before.

“Well, I can wait…” you sighed, playing with the sparkly material of your dress. Mrs Afton had specifically requested that you be a ‘fairy princess’ - so you were dressed in a flowery tiara, crème coloured wings, and a corset-like dress with off the shoulder straps and a tulle skirt that stopped just by your knees.

“Want a drink?” William asked, breaking the tension. He seemed nice enough, albeit slightly dorky with his large glasses and oddly coloured tie. Apparently he’d come from work.

You politely shook your head, biting your lip as you directed your attention around the room, somewhat oblivious to the way the man was staring at you.

He’d heard of his wife’s “genius” idea to hire a princess, but for some reason the concept had never really manifested in his mind. He’d always seen them as slightly cringey with weird, overly heavy makeup, but you were a dream come true. Shy, polite - perfectly submissive. He wondered what was hidden under the layers of tulle and petticoat; if you’d squirm when he ran his hands up your thighs, spreading them apart so he could finger your pussy. He wanted to see you in action; if you’d stay in character whilst he pounded you into the counter, tears of ecstasy forming in your eyes as you’d squeal when you came around his cock.

His relationship with his wife had gotten stale a long time ago, and it was time that he got a thanks.

“You know, I’ll pay you for this extra hour,” he announced. “Can you do a little bit of your act? I wanna see if you’re good enough for my ‘Nessa,” he smiled, eyes wide and sparkling. Even though he was a grown man, it was actually rather cute. You loved seeing devoted fathers -

How could you say no?

You picked up your wand and stood in the middle of the kitchen before you curtseyed.

“Your wish is my command…” you said gently, peering up at him through your lashes. It was a classic move in the business, but it drove the man crazy. He smirked, finishing the last of his beer before he walked around the counter to join you, leaning against the counter.

It was then you realised how much bigger he was than you; tall, with a large chest and limbs. What struck you the most was his biceps and thighs - he was far more built than the typical man his age. For some reason you now felt nervous, but it wasn’t the usual pre-show jitters.

“…How may your Princess be of assistance?”

His Princess. You were all his for the next hour.

“I get three wishes, don’t I?” he hummed.

You pursed your lips and nodded, rolling the wand in your hands as your heart pounded against your chest.

“Well, for my first wish I’d like a dance with you,” William said, smirking at your startled reaction.

“I’m not a great dancer…” you said bashfully.

William stepped closer, reaching out a hand to adjust the material of your sleeves down so that they were level, noticing how your skin freckled with goosebumps upon his touch.

“Don’t worry, Princess. I’ll teach you,” he said softly, taking your hand in his and beginning to lead you into some kind of ballroom dance.

There was no music but he hummed a deep, methodic melody that came from inside his chest, almost like a satisfied purr of a lion. He was careful as he held you, as if you were a porcelain doll, making sure that his body was a safe distance from yours. Still, your bare legs and the tickly material of your dress occasionally rubbed against his own, earning an apologetic ‘sorry’ from you every time.

You were beyond perfect. Quite literally a fantasy come to life.

Once you were done, you broke away.

“Where did you learn to move like that?” you chuckled.

“I play a character too,” he said vaguely. “I’m very comfortable in my body. Besides, my wife always said I was good with my hands…” he finished, raising his brows slightly. You bit your lip and cocked your head, giggling at his entendre.

“What’s your second wish?”

“A kiss,” he said bluntly, and you glanced at the ground shyly. This was certainly beyond your means. Still, you were technically on the job, and you’d jokingly kissed people on the cheek before as part of it. This was the only gig you had that was getting you through college, and you couldn’t lose it.

You nodded, adjusting your tiara before you leaned in, standing on your toes as you planted a kiss on his cheek. His skin was slightly prickly because of his beard, contrasting against your soft, slightly sticky lips. Pulling away, you realised you’d left a smudge of your lip gloss on his cheek.

William hummed at the contact, unable to suppress his growing erection. You smelled heavenly, and your kiss was even better. So gentle, so precise…

“That was lovely, sweetheart, but I didn’t say on the cheek,”

Your eyes widened and you gasped.

“Mr Afton — I can’t…You’re married,”

“That doesn’t matter,” he said dismissively. “It’s all just make-believe. Besides, she’s not here…”

You remained frozen as he got closer to you, his hands again brushing the sleeves of your dress, this time beginning to slide them down your arms. You knew what he wanted.

“Mr Afton, please,” you begged, glancing around the kitchen. If this endeavour was going to happen, it shouldn’t be by a children’s birthday cake. “Not here…”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, his voice raspy. The cracks were beginning to show, and his eyes were filled with lust. “This way,”

He led you down the hall and up the stairs. Before you knew it, you were in the Afton’s bedroom, the door left slightly ajar.

“Get on the bed for me, Princess,” he grinned. “I want to look at you,”

William chuckled as you immediately obeyed, pulling yourself up towards the headboard, sat on your knees, staring up at him expectedly. You were quivering, and it only made his cock harder.

The tulle ran up your thighs, its poorly constructed bottom beginning to leave nothing to the imagination. Your chest was heaving, exposing the outline of your breasts. Even though you were scared, you were so ready for him.

“I don’t want to get caught…�� you said softly, a lump bobbing in your throat as he slowly approached you, staring you down like a piece of meat. “I’ll be fired,”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Princess,” he smiled, beginning to loosen his belt as he kept staring at you. “But it works two ways, you know…”

You nodded.

“Is this your final wish?”

“No. I like to savour my treats…” he purred, pulling down his zipper. “Look up at me, doll,”

You obeyed, letting him take your face with his free hand, cupping your chin as he guided you to his cock. He was a little over average, and it was thick, with a prominent vein running along its side. He groaned and threw his head back as your warm mouth enveloped his cock, precum acting as lube and coating your lips like gloss. His grip remained firm on your face as he began to pump in and out of your mouth slowly, giving you time to adjust to the sensation. You hollowed your cheeks on his cock, guiding your head along the skin as you used your tongue to lick the sides, earning a groan from William.

“Has this pretty Princess sucked cock before?” he teased. “Of course you have…You’ve never had one like this before though, hm? Married, daddy dick,”

You managed a ‘Mmfh’ in response, unable to speak. The man chuckled and let go of your face, letting you do the work whilst he caressed your body, admiring your wings and stroking your neck, his hands making their way down to your chest. You wasted no time in using your hands to grip his base, holding him still as you began to eagerly suck him off, taking him as far as you could whilst your hands jerked him off at the base.

He huffed, and began to unbutton his shirt, leaving him in a vest, showing off his slightly hairy chest. He looked down at you, and you looked up at him, secretly satisfied at the way his eyes were half lidded with desire. It was his daughter's birthday, and his wife was 30 mins away, and yet here he was getting a blowjob from the hired entertainment. It was so sinful, and he’d barely even begun.

“Go deeper, Princess. For me…” he commanded, his voice breathy. You did, and his thick tip hit the back of your throat, making you gag. Pulling away, a trail of spit connected your mouth to his cock, and the man tutted, scooping it with his finger to run it over your swollen lips.

Had you disappointed him?

“I can do it —” you insisted, psyching yourself up to go again, but he stopped you, bending down to place a sloppy kiss on your lips.

“Lie back,” he said simply. “I have a surprise of my own,”

He opened a drawer, fumbling around through the contents before he pulled out a box — to a vibrator.

“It’s all clean,” he said, holding it up teasingly. “You got one of these, Princess? Or are you too much of a good girl for them – Maybe there’s a Prince around to do the job for you…?”

You shook your head. There was one guy named Mike who’d sold you the tires of your car once, but you’d never really pursued him.

“Hm,” William hummed gleefully. “ ‘Got this for Sarah as a fun little Valentine's gift ‘n she never used it. She’s a fucking prude, as you can tell. But you’re going to be my good little princess, aren’t you?”

“Yes Sir,” you replied, and he smirked as he opened the box, wasting no time in sorting it out.

In a moment he clicked it on, and the quiet house was filled with whirring which filled you with anticipation. It’d been a while since you’d had sex, let alone anything penetrating.

William leaned down, hands on either side of your body as he snaked his hands up the sides of your thighs, calluses brushing the material of your skirt away before he reached your panties.

“I’m gonna put this inside you, okay Princess? Be a good girl for me…”

You hadn’t realised it was a dual operator.

The rubbery material slid into your folds as he pushed your panties aside with his hands, allowing for the other nub to rest on your clit, leaving the base sticking out of your body. If that wasn’t torture enough, he covered the bottom with your panties, placing them back into position and leaving you with no escape.

The machine began to pulse and vibrate, leaving you as nothing but a squirming mess.

William chuckled at the sight below him, taking a moment to watch you squeal and call out for him as he lazily jerked his cock. This was far better than any porn. Or sex with his wife, for that matter.

You arched your back and clung onto the sheets as it continued to fuck you, the outside handle massaging your clit in circles, sending shockwaves through your body. You’d never been fucked like this, and it was even more sinful knowing it came from a married man.

“Please Sir…” you begged, eyes watery as you stared at him, arms outstretched. “I need —“

“Does the Princess need her King? He’s coming, doll,” he cooed, desire laced in his throaty chuckle. He walked over to you and took your hand, but assumed his position back at your mouth, taking a moment to run his heavy shaft over your wanting lips. You took him in your mouth like a good girl, making sure you teased his balls with your tongue.

He groaned, legs shaking as he ran his fingers to the top of your dress, roughly pulling it down to just below your breasts and began to fondle them with his large hands. He squeezed and tugged on your nipples, bringing you to a point of complete overstimulation as the vibrator continued its motions within you. The room was filled with sounds of wetness from both your mouth and cunt, and judging by the way you were beginning to desperately paw on William’s thighs he could tell you were close.

“Are you gonna cum, doll? You gonna cum all over my wife’s vibrator?”

You whined an ‘uh-huh’ as you nodded your head, and William grinned down at you, pulling himself from your mouth.

“Good,” he hummed. “Open your legs nice and wide for me Princess. I want to watch you,”

You did so and he stood over you, inspecting you as if he were a doctor. You were beginning to see white, and you barely noticed that the man had dropped to his knees, face-to-face with your aching pussy. In a second, he dragged you towards him and buried his face between your legs, underneath all the layers of tulle and petticoat. He swiftly removed the vibrator and replaced it with his tongue and lithe fingers, flicking at your bud and pumping in and out of you, your juices beginning to coat his digits.

It was heaven when you came. You were so overwhelmed that you’d actually locked your legs around him; allowing him to receive all of your fluids across his face and fingers. He lapped you up like he was starving, his hands holding a steady grip on your thighs and waist, making it clear that you belonged to him.

As you rode off your high, you began to feel sleepy. William emerged from under your dress, looking rather proud of himself as he wiped a droplet of your juices from his beard. You mustered the strength to prop yourself up, and as you did he pulled you into a sloppy kiss by your neck, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth.

“Dirty girl,” he murmured. “You’re driving me crazy, you know that?”

You bit your lip as you pulled away, watching the man intently as he dropped his pants and boxers, leaving him completely nude.

“Keep your clothes on for me, doll,” he smiled sinisterly. “You look so pretty in that dress. I promise I won’t ruin it…”

Shifting so that you were amongst the pillows, you instinctively hiked up your skirt, watching as William climbed over you. Even though you were fully clothed, you felt completely naked under his gaze, and the severity of the situation finally sunk in on you.

Here you were, the image of innocence and grace, draped across the marital bed of the parents of the child you were supposed to entertain - on her birthday no less - whilst the husband straddled you, ready to fuck you within an inch of your life.

Sarah, Vanessa and the other children could come home any minute.

“William…” you whispered, cupping his cheek in your hand. “I-I’m scared…”

He grinned. He hoped you were scared of what he was going to do to you, and the idea of being caught by his wife.

“Shh,” he hummed. “I’ve got you,”

He lifted your legs to either side of him so that your lower back was elevated, and your thighs rested on his own as he lined up with your entrance. He took a moment to tease your slit, rubbing his sticky head along your wet folds, still sensitive from your orgasm.

He pushed into you with little warning and your back arched, relishing in the bittersweet feeling of being stretched open. You thought he was going to begin moving, but he continued to push into you, making sure that the ring of juices you’d left on his cock was entirely covered. He wanted you to take him whole.

“Fuck, Princess,” he groaned, voice rumbling from the inside of his chest. “You’re so tight…I haven’t had a pussy like this in ages…”

“Will…” you stammered, shutting your eyes as you felt him bottom out within you, balls resting on your skin. “Oh my God…”

“Such a perfect little Princess,” he said, relishing in the sight of your skin-on-skin. Holding your thighs apart, he pulled back slowly before beginning to fuck into you, the contact making obscene sticky sounds. You had no choice but to grip the bed sheets as he drew long, agonising strokes into you, savouring the moment. Something about it was strangely intimate.

Once William found his rhythm he briefly let go of your thighs to grope your tits through the material before pulling it down and manhandling them himself. They moved with every thrust as your head lolled, mouth open and whining as he fucked you.

William was a man of many feats, but he’d never believed he'd be able to have this. He wanted you to be his naughty little elf for Christmas, his Cupid for Valentines, and his present for his birthday. Just you, bound by ribbon with a bow on your head would be good enough.

“You like this, hm? Ever fucked another dad like me? They must love having you around,” he snarled, and your pussy clenched at the image.

“N-Noo…” you whispered, squealing as William abruptly slapped your cunt..

“No?” he repeated. “Hm, of course not. You’re a good girl, aren’t you? A true Princess…”

You nodded, leaning up as William leant down to meet your lips in another sloppy kiss, giving him the ammunition to drill his cock into you further, your legs now by his shoulders.

God, this was the best fuck you’d ever had.

He steadied himself on either side of you, and you could feel his hot, heavy breaths from his nose and mouth as he continued to fuck you, eye contact unwavering.

As his thrusts became sloppier, you felt your stomach knot up, signalling yet another orgasm.

“William…I’m - I’m close…”

“Again, baby?” he hummed. “And here I was thinking I’d get to fuck your ass…Hm, there’s always a next time…”

You hardly acknowledged the implication.

“Y-You gotta — “

“Pull out?” he teased, withdrawing his hips, legs shaking as his nerves tingled and he entered you for the final time. “Oh no, Princess, I can’t do that! I could stain your pretty dress or ruin your makeup…”

He was so considerate.

You nodded, locking your arms around his neck as the weight of his body forced you into the mattress. You squeezed your eyes shut as you came, toes curling as your walls clamped down on his cock, making him feel bigger than before (if that were even possible). It wasn’t long before he came, grunting and whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he filled your pussy with his hot cum. He held you there for what felt like forever, making sure every drop wasn’t wasted, nor spilled onto the bed sheets.

“Fuck!” he bellowed, words broken between pants as he began to pull out, watching as the creamy fluids glistened in the natural light, even trickling down to his balls. You looked absolutely spent, and if you didn’t have a job to do he would’ve let you lie there.

Managing to pull yourself up, it was mostly silent until you heard a car enter the driveway, causing you to spring into motion.

“William, we’re home!”

“Shit…” you murmured, looking around. How would it look if you both came down the stairs?

“Here, take this,” William said nonchalantly, handing you a pink envelope. “Vanessa’s room is at the end of the hall. I trust you know how to improvise...”

You nodded, brushing your skirt into place as you hastily began to leave. William stopped you, raising a hand as if to ‘halt’, and tenderly fixed your tiara, a sly smirk wiped across his face as he did. As he let go, his hands stroked your cheek and his thumb ran over your lips. You took the digit into your mouth briefly before planting a gentle kiss onto the tip, smiling back up at him innocently.

Keys were in the door.

“My final wish…” he uttered, “…Is that you come and work for me. We could really use an Easter Bunny…”

@fandomwritingbit @ahsxual

#florence writes!!#my magnum opus #for now #william afton smut #william afton x reader smut #william afton x reader #steve raglan smut #steve raglan x reader #fnaf smut

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shangchiswife · 1 year

Text

joel miller- the babysitter?

....

summary: sarah’s old babysitter comes to visit from graduate school and joel is surprised

warnings: smut, age gap

word count: 2140

link to part 2: part 2

....

Joel Miller stood in the kitchen, his eyebrows furrowed with concentration.

He was determined to get the pancakes in front of him perfect. It was Sarah’s birthday and he just wanted to show her how much he appreciated her.

He had just finished making breakfast when his daughter bolted down the stairs.

“Morning dad,” she chirped before taking a seat at the breakfast table where Joel had placed a hot syrupy stack of pancakes.

“Morning baby girl, happy birthday,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead before taking a seat beside her.

“Pancakes! Thank you so much, dad!” she grinned before she immediately started to pile the pancakes onto her plate.

His gaze was soft as he stared at his little girl that was growing up so fast.

“So what’s the plan for today?” she asked with her mouth full.

“Mouth closed, Sarah, and whatever you want,” he ruffled her hair and she giggled.

“Thanks so much, dad, well I was thinking-”

Sarah was interrupted by the sound of the loud doorbell that sounded like it needed to be fixed.

The two glanced at each other with confusion.

“Were you expecting someone, Sarah?” Joel questioned, staring at his only daughter.

“No…” she shook her head quizzically.

Joel stood up, rubbing his hands on his jeans before going over to the door and opening it.

When he opened it he was shocked to see you standing there dressed in a pretty white sundress, the bright sun illuminating your beaming face.

“Y/N,” he said with surprise.

“Mr. Miller, it’s nice to see you. Is Sarah here? I have a present for her,” you lifted up a small pink gift bag in your hand.

“Yeah she is, uh…come in,” he scratched the back of his head as you came inside eagerly.

“Y/N!” Sarah screamed with joy as she abandoned her breakfast and darted over to you and immediately jumped into your arms.

“Sarah it’s so nice to see you! Look at how much you’ve grown,” you took her face in your hands and caressed it, her doe brown eyes gazing adoringly into yours.

You had babysat for Sarah during your gap year and during college, while you were at a university nearby Austin, wanting to earn some money. Then once you were done with college you were accepted into a good Graduate program outside of Texas and rarely visited due to your busy schedule.

Joel stared at you.

He remembered you asking him to read over your college essays and him trying his best to make comments even though your work was exceptional. Hell, he remembered you putting Sarah to bed even though she begged you to stay up and watch tv. You had played an important role in Sarah’s development and he appreciated that. And now here you were so mature, hardened from the city life.

“Here’s your gift, Sarah, I hope you like it,” you smiled, handing her the bright pink gift bag, watching as she threw out the wrapping paper.

“Woah a Britney Spears shirt and an Avril Lavigne cd! Thanks so much, Y/N,” Sarah marveled at the contents of the bag before embracing you once more.

“No problem. Anything for my favorite kid,” you winked at her as her cheeks glowed from the praise.

Suddenly the doorbell rang again and all heads turned to the crimson-red door once more.

“Good grief, how many more people are gonna knock on my door,” Joel muttered under his breath as you suppressed a giggle.

You had always had a little school-girl crush on Joel when you babysat Sarah. The way he was always so kind and gentle to you. It also didn’t help how handsome he was with his dark hair that was slightly greyed and his large muscular build, and serious dark eyes. All the girls your age had the same thoughts about Joel calling him a “silver fox.” Joel was completely oblivious to their comments, and if he did know he did a damn good job of hiding it.

This time Sarah ran up to the door and swung it open.

“Lily!” she squealed with delight as a girl around her age entered the house.

“Hey, Sarah, happy birthday! My mom was wondering if you wanted to go to the city mall with us and get a gift for you,” the girl said as Sarah immediately spun towards Joel and gave him her best puppy eyes.

You shook your head and chuckled.

You remembered when she used to do that when she wanted to stay up past her bedtime.

Joel scratched his facial hair.

“I don’t know…”

With that response, Sarah smacked him lightly with the Avril Lavigne cd she had just been gifted, her brown face scrunching up with anger.

“Alright, alright, easy I was just joking,” he chuckled as Sarah narrowed her eyes at him and then skipped away with Lily leaving the two of you alone.

It seemed that Joel had just realized and he turned around and stared at you.

“Oh…uh Y/N you can stay for dinner if you’d like I’m sure I can make something…” he said awkwardly.

You didn’t know why he was being so awkward, he was always normal when you were around.

“That sounds good, Mr. Miller,”

“Oh Y/N, you know you can just call me Joel,” his mouth twisted to the side which made you grin.

“Fine, that sounds good, Joel,” you smiled before plopping onto one of the sofas sprawled out in the cozy living room.

….

Once Joel had brought a warm plate of cookies, the awkwardness between the two of you was over and you started exchanging stories.

“And that was how Sarah got on the soccer team,” Joel wolfed down his cookie before you let out a hearty laugh.

“I can’t believe she got on there with no experience and a broken wrist,” you giggled.

“Yeah but now she’s carryin’ the team,” he said, putting the plate down on the table beside him.

As he moved over to do that simple action, your eyes flickered down to his jeans, they fit so snugly around his thick thighs.

Jesus Christ get a grip, Y/N you thought trying your hardest not to stare at them.

Once the man returned to his seat he spread his legs for comfort.

“Lord, this man is going to drive me insane,” you muttered, rubbing your temples as you could feel yourself growing wet from under your dress.

“You alright, there, Y/N?” the handsome man cocked his head to the side, his eyebrows furrowing with concern.

“I’m alright I just-”

At that moment your car keys flew off your wrist and under the sofa.

“Shit,” you cursed as you bent down under the couch and searched for them.

Joel’s eyes widened and his breath hitched the moment you bent down to reach for your keys, your pretty sundress hiked up and revealed your lacy black panties.

His cock twitched in his pants as he stared at your ass.

“Fuck,” he mumbled thinking that no one could hear him.

But you could.

You peeked at him for a second, watching as his eyes darken as they watched your every movement.

Wanting to tease him more you wiggled your ass, wanting to get a reaction out of him.

He adjusted in his seat, fidgeting uncomfortably as he rubbed his hands on his jeans.

You fished your car keys from under the couch and placed them promptly back in your purse before going over to Joel, kneeling.

“Joel, are you feeling alright?” you kneeled right in front of his thighs, placing a gentle hand on his knee as Joel held back a groan.

He did nothing but gape as you moved his thighs aside so that you could slip in between them.

“Fuck, sweetheart what are you doin’?” Joel brought a hand down to caress your cheek.

“Please,” you looked up at him pleadingly.

“Please what,” his fingers drew shapes into your cheeks as you closed your eyes with bliss.

“Please let me suck your cock,” you placed your head on his thigh, cheeks flushed as he stroked your hair.

“Are you sure?” he struggled with his words as you nuzzled into his thigh.

“I want to,”

Your words sent the blood rushing to his cock as he took one of his fingers and put it in your mouth.

“Suck,” he commanded as you immediately complied, looking up at him innocently.

“Holy shit,” he said as he continued to thrust his finger in and out of your mouth watching as a string of drool pooled from your lips.

You whined, clearly wanting something bigger in your mouth.

“Alright princess, you show me how it’s done,” Joel rested his head back against the sofa as he watched your calculated movements.

You smirked as you rubbed your hands up and down his muscular thighs, then placed one hand on his clothed erection and traced it lightly.

“Uh uh, if you keep on doing that I’m not gonna be so nice,” he growled, gripping your chin roughly, making sure that you locked eyes with him.

You gave him a small smile before pressing a single kiss to his clothed cock.

Then you started working the zipper of his jeans, watching as his cock sprung out, pre-cum leaking from his tip, just waiting to be touched.

Your mouth watered at the sight.

Joel guided your head, pushing it closer to his cock as you wrapped your lips around it.

“Shit yeah that’s it, princess,” he said, his head hitting the back of the couch, enjoying the warmth of your tongue on his dick.

While you took more of him in your mouth you simultaneously stroked him and fondled his balls.

“Jesus Christ,” he panted as he raked his hands through your hair, fisting it tightly.

You moaned at the pulling, the vibrations going straight to Joel’s cock.

You sink deeper into him, wanting to please him desperately as you continued to fondle his balls and wrap one of your hands around the base of his shaft.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl,” he praised, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip as you whimpered from the praise, growing wetter by the moment.

“Yeah, you like being called a good girl?” he teased, a smirk playing at his lips as he watched you struggle with his length.

Your pussy clenched around nothing as he continued to fist your hair.

You close your eyes with bliss as you continue to milk him while he lets out loud groans that go straight to your drooling cunt.

“Fuck I’m gonna-”

“Down my throat,” you breathe out as Joel completely loses it and stands up, thrusting his dick into your mouth at a brutal pace.

You moan loudly, tears leaking down your face as Joel continues to fuck you, groaning at his pleasure.

“You fuckin’ whore, having a little crush on your boss,”

You looked up at him, whimpering as tears continued to rush down your cheeks.

“Such a pretty little mouth, taking my cock so well,” he moaned as his pace faltered.

You rubbed your thighs together, wanting some friction of some sort to aid your untouched pussy.

Joel thrust one last time and released his seed, painting your throat white as he slipped out of your mouth.

He watched his cum drip down your chin and he almost became hard again at the pretty sight.

“Swallow,” he ordered as you immediately complied and swallowed his cum.

“Good girl,” he whispered as he knelt down to your cockdumb state and caressed your cheeks.

“You alright, sweetheart?” he asked, sweetly.

“Yeah, Joel I’m amazing,” you said as you leaned your head on his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him, threading your hand through his cropped hair.

The man’s breath hitched before he embraced you back, drawing circles on your back with the pad of his thumb.

He pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

“So damn cute,” he whispered in your ear as you giggled.

“You really think so?” your heart swelled with joy at his compliment.

“I know so,” he said as you hid your smile in his chest.

“So when can we meet again?” you asked looking up at him as he looked down at you, his eyes soft and not serious like they usually are.

“Tomorrow Sarah is having her birthday party here and then Lily’s mom is taking em’ skating at the mall in the city so the house will be free,” he smirked as your cheeks heated up.

“I’ll be there,” you stood up, taking your purse and putting it over your shoulder.

“And tomorrow you’ll get your turn,” he said, winking.

You grinned at him before opening the front door and shutting it behind you.

You could not wait for tomorrow.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #tlou smut #the last of us smut

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chuluoyi · 7 months

Note

Could you do a brother’s best friend!Megumi x reader?

like her brother being overprotective, but being oblivious of his best friend’s crush on her sister?

(not the) best kept secret

- fushiguro megumi x reader

cool, brooding and handsome. your crush on your brother's best friend is a secret you only keep to yourself. little do you know, he too feels the same. and so, your love story—and the trials and tribulations that come with it—begins.

genre/warnings: college au, reader being yuji's little sister and him and your family being protective, fluff, mutual pining, tiny weeny angst if you squint? with happy ending ofc!

notes: awww anon, this ask is so cute and so hidden love-coded! did you watch hidden love too? because this piece draws inspiration from that ehe. and uh it turned out longer than i expected and i haven't proofread it but pls enjoy!

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

You have had a crush on your brother’s best friend, Megumi, for a while now.

Actually, scratch that. For a long time now, since you were in middle school, in fact.

In your eyes, he was really cool. He was reserved and not very talkative, which was a stark contrast to your brother Yuji, who could talk a mile a minute every day. It always baffled you why the two could be bosom friends.

And he treated you well. Megumi may have bonked Yuji’s head at any given chance, but with you, he was different. He was gentler, kinder, and overall just considerate. Sometimes he would even pick you up in your brother’s place, and your heart would beat out of your chest from sheer giddiness.

Little did you know, he too didn’t quite see you as a mere sister of his friend.

It started with head pats. You heart would flutter and he would be more conscious of his actions. Yuji had furrowed an righteous eyebrow at the sight.

“Oi, Fushiguro, that’s some favoritism there!” he whined. “I helped you with homework and what did I get—”

“Shut up, Itadori.”

And then the text messages. You didn’t know how or why you ended up texting him on daily basis. He was the one who texted you first a few months ago, having obtained your number from a mutual friend in your circle to ask about the best gift for Yuji’s birthday. And somehow up until now, you found yourselves telling him how your day went, and he the same.

you: i've just finished my class today. so tired megumi: oh? mine is still in session. quite boring you: i see. well, ganbatte!

Those little interactions made your day, and for now, you were quite satisfied with them. But when your phone buzzed once again, signaling a new text, you couldn't resist the urge to swiftly open the messaging app to expect the expected.

megumi: wanna grab lunch later?

It was so incredibly childish, but you felt like winning.

Lunch invitations were often. You spent the whole duration of lunch with him almost every day at this point. The two of you talked about many mundane things, and he would have this small smile whenever you griped about your hard tests or annoying classmates.

Head pats. Texts. Lunches.

And then there was Nobara.

Now, don't get me wrong. You adored her—she was a fun person, pretty and you even looked up to her as your role model at some point. If Yuji somehow ended up with her, you were sure to give them 200% of your blessings.

But seeing her with Megumi was another story. Sometimes you envied your brother's close knit group of three. They had been friends since middle school, and it was granted that Nobara would spend a whole load of time with both your brother and Megumi. With Yuji, she was harsher and didn't take him seriously, but you couldn't deny what your peers had been whispering and what you yourself found very plausible—she and Megumi would make a fine match.

It wasn't your intention at all, but ever since you saw him and Nobara at the toy shop together, pulling for popular merchandises in gacha box, you started losing confidence in yourself and inadvertently put this distance between you and him.

At first it was subtle, Megumi didn't even realize it. But when your replies were few and far in between, he decided it was time to address the problem.

"You don't answer my texts," he stated one day, barely catching you at campus during the lunchtime. Now that he thought about it, you kept denying his lunch invitations too. "Are you avoiding me?"

"I, um," you stuttered. You didn't anticipate running into him, to be honest, and so you were at loss of words. "It isn't like that..."

Megumi figured that he had done something to make you feel like you should avoid him, but he didn't want the two of you to be in this awkward situation any longer, so he led you away from the crowd to your usual place of hanging out after lunch—the rooftop.

"Have I done something?" he asked warily. "It's okay, you can tell me."

"No, Megumi, I—"

"I don't want us to be like—this," Megumi said, his face contorting with a deep frown. "I don't like it at all."

Typically, he regarded friendships as a pain, but not with you. Not with the girl he had been pining over for who knows how long now.

Yuji's sister. He had to remind himself of that fact so many times and yet his heart didn't seem to get it. You were his best friend's dearest sister, and yet he fell for you regardless. If Yuji knew, he would definitely had some opinions on this.

And so for the last few months, he kept it hidden under his sleeves. He approached you, befriended you, took you out on lunch dates—acting on his growing feelings for you and yet he didn't have the courage to confess still.

But enough was enough. If not confessing meant losing you altogether, then he was willing to take the risk. At the very least, if you did reject him, he would have gone down with a fight.

"Y/N, I don't know if you're already aware of this or not, but..." he gulped. Apparently this wasn't as easy as he thought, especially when you met his gaze with your cutely confused ones.

"I have feelings for you. I... like you, quite much."

His voice was clear, without any hint of doubt. You were taken aback and widened your eyes out of surprise.

"You do...?" you shyly asked him back, finding it hard to believe. Fushiguro Megumi, the boy you've been crushing on since you were 15, when you were only able to hide behind Yuji and saw him from afar. The boy who once was indifferent to you, was now confessing his feelings for you? He liked you back in the same way you liked him?

"I do," he replied with clarity, and then a smile. That small smile that always made your insides do somersaults. "I want to ask you out for a while now, but since well... you know... out of consideration for your brother, I felt like I couldn't simply whisk you away."

To his surprise, you laughed, and Megumi found himself breathless. The way you laugh was so mesmerizing in his eyes, reminding him why he could fall in love with you in the first place.

"I like you too, Megumi."

And that was all he needed. Apparently that confirmation was enough to forget that you were the sister of his long-time friend, and that it was fine even if you were. After all, since when was it a crime to romance your best friend's sister?

Still, you two decided to keep it under the wraps first. Springing this on Yuji would startle him, you reasoned, and he agreed. It was more convenient this way anyways.

Your relationship with Megumi was a happy one. He was curt, but never failed to look out for you. He remembered things you liked, and would take you out on places you wanted to go. Arguments were there—granted, sometimes he was just too stubborn, so you may have a clash of opinions—but in the end, the two of you always managed to work it out.

But there was always something melancholic in Megumi that you weren't sure you could touch at all. Perhaps it was due to his upbringing—his incomplete family. You tried to fill that gap, giving him many fun and happy memories, hoping it would replace his sad ones. He was grateful for that.

Nonetheless, the reality persisted that your brother, Yuji, remained completely oblivious to all of this. Yuji still thought that you were his innocent younger sister, and Megumi was his best bro. Sometimes you felt bad to do all this behind his back, and yet you made no move to rectify it.

“Hey, let’s ask Fushiguro to join too!” Yuji would say, and you would agree. And then, in front of him, you and Megumi would refrain from being too friendly, and he would be none the wiser.

All things have karma. You have built your karma too, for deceiving your kind and sweet brother.

"Fushiguro! How could you?!"

When Yuji's fist collided with his jaw, honestly Megumi had given up on fighting back, because one, there was no chance of winning against him, and two, your scream pierced the air, filled with worry for him.

You two just had to be found out in the worst way possible—while making out. It was wrong in so many levels in the first place. Why and how did you even initiate making out in your house that you shared with your brother?

"It could've been anyone," Yuji fumed with anger, his teeth clenching. "Anyone at all! And yet it has to be Y/N—my own sister! Fushiguro, have you ever considered the magnitude of betrayal this is to me?"

"Yuji! Please stop!" you tried to intervene. "He's not at wrong—it was me who—"

"No, you don't get any say in this!" for the first time, you saw your kind brother got angry and it made you quiver in fear. Yuji had never been angry, not to you. "You too, Y/N. How could do this behind my back? The least you could do is telling me!"

"I'm an adult!" you stressed, now irritated at this display of protectiveness from him. "I can date whoever I want and you can't just punch the man who happens to be my boyfriend!"

Honestly, if asked, Yuji wasn’t like 100% against your relationship with Megumi. He and Megumi practically grew up together, he knew the best and worst parts of him, and overall he still considered him decent.

But what made it hurt was that the two of you decided to leave him out. It made him doubt everything he knew about his best friend. How could he trust his sister to someone he found hard to trust?

He turned to Megumi, who was still slumped on the floors of his garage. “No. If he really likes you that much, then he will willingly accept this.”

Megumi understood, if his own sister was dating… let’s say, someone like Gojo, whom he trusted but not at the same time, he too would definitely beat the crap out of him.

And so he willingly endured all the blows. Yuji had to let off steam, and this pain was worth everything if it meant he would give his blessing for you.

Yuji was taken aback that his friend actually let him do this. When Megumi got thrown one last time and almost passed out, Yuji finally decided that it was the end.

His best friend and his sister… it was almost laughable if he didn’t feel like the biggest fool between the two of you.

He saw how you immediately sauntered towards him with tears in your eyes, muttering several apologies. Yuji wanted to snort, but then Megumi took a hold of your hand that was on his bruised cheek, and smiled, saying that it was okay.

And despite himself, his heart felt warm. Seeing the usual gruff and cold Megumi be this… soft with you seemed to open his eyes to something more.

Looking back, he could’ve had realized it when Megumi started to get touchy with you. He completely missed that the head pats were actually his subtle way of expressing his fondness for you.

Yuji decided to leave you be. At least he had made his point across, and he hated to say it outright, but perhaps, it was okay after all for you to be with him.

Okay didn’t mean you two had obtained his full blessing, though. But another event soon changed his perspective.

“Itadori,” Megumi’s ragged breaths was what he registered first through the sudden phone call. “Please come here—Y/N—she was—”

It was Yuji’s first time to witness pure panic from Megumi. He proceeded to tell him how you had been in pain and then collapsed, and that he had brought you to the hospital.

When Yuji arrived at the hospital, he once again saw how restless his friend was over your wellbeing. He could no longer deny it—the sight moved him.

“Hey, you awake?” Megumi’s face was the first you saw when you awoke at the hospital bed. He looked so concerned, a frown creased deep in his face. “Are you not in pain anymore?”

No, not quite much anymore, you wanted to say, but your throat felt so dry and you only managed to shake your head lightly.

“That’s good,” he let out a relieved sigh, and that was when you notice your brother at the corner of the room, looking at you two with a somewhat exasperated expression, but then he smiled.

Who knew a severe case of appendicitis would lead to Yuji giving his complete approval for you to date his best friend, huh?

But life is nothing if not full of obstacles. The next obstacle you faced after Yuji’s finding out was your parents.

“Look Y/N, we know. Megumi is a good guy,” you mother started. “We've known him for a long time, of course, personality-wise, we have nothing against him.”

You bit your lower lip in frustration. Beside you at the dinner table, Yuji kept his silence, but listened attentively too.

“It’s just… the matters of his family,” your father added, carefully choosing his words.

“His father is never in the picture, is he? And there are also rather unsettling news about him too.” Your mother was always the one being more straightforward.

Both you and Yuji knew it already. As of now, Megumi only had his stepsister, and last you heard, his father was gambling somewhere and then became a convict. Megumi said he had cut ties with him, but there was no such thing as an ex-father. Until forevermore, Fushiguro Toji, a criminal, was his biological father.

“Mom, I know your concern,” Yuji had finally decided to step up, and you were grateful for that. “Fushiguro won’t end up—”

“Yes, we know,” your mother emphasized, letting out a sigh. “But we are your parents, Yuji, Y/N. If there’s even the slightest chance, we worry. We want the best for you. Always.”

You were at a loss.

You were young, and yet you already saw him in your distant future. Being with Megumi felt so right and comfortable. He was your safe space as you were his.

But you also understood where your parents’ concerns came from, or at least tried to. At least until you found out how your father approached Megumi to talk him into thinking your relationship over.

"How could you, Dad?" you asked, aghast. "You're... practically intimidating him into breaking up with me!"

"Y/N, listen—I never meant it like that," your father tried to explain himself, and yet you were already too heartbroken to hear him, and so you shut the door to your room, not giving him any chance.

Why did your relationship suddenly become everyone's business? Why couldn't they just let you be an adult?

Megumi could still hear your father's words rang in his ears.

"Y/N... we raised her with love and care," your father said with a forlorn expression. By all means, Megumi knew that he meant well. "She's always spoiled, my only daughter... Megumi-kun, you must understand, it's not easy for us too."

He knew that his rather colorful past would get in the way one way or another, and he had come to accept it. But it still stung, because of course, he wanted full blessings from the family of the girl he fell in love with.

You were like a ray of sunshine in his dreary life. Like Yuji, your presence had made an impact on him. Your cute smiles, pouts and vulnerability around him... he loved them all.

He would get upset when you looked sad, just as you were now.

"It's really okay... Y/N." He swiftly wiped your tears with his thumb, as you sniffled. "I didn't take it to heart. Your father is just worried about you... I can understand that."

"But still—h-he shouldn't do that," you replied amidst your small sobs. Above all, you didn't want your father to have spooked him. "Megumi... I don't want to break up with you."

And honestly he didn't expect that. You were afraid of him... leaving you?

He, who did everything he could, just to have you to be by his side?

"Sir, I know where you are coming from. As of now, I don't have much. But I can say this with confidence—I... love your daughter very much, and I will do everything in my power to make sure that she is happy."

"Stupid," he huffed, putting a hand on your head, before messing up your hair. And gosh, you were so cute, glaring at him through your lashes.

"I won't. I've told your father that too actually."

"Just give me two years," Megumi added with unwavering voice, staring at your father earnestly. "After graduation, I'm getting my life in order. I'll secure a stable job and do my best. I'm... going to prove it to you, and you can be the judge if I can finally deserve Y/N or not."

He was 16 when he knew you, seeing you as nothing but a little girl too timid to approach him. And he was 19 when he realized that you were everything he wanted in a girl of his dreams.

At one point in his life, Megumi thought it was okay to be alone. But ever since getting to know you, he realized that loving and being loved by you were the greatest happiness of existence.

"Thank you," he muttered afterwards, as you were still starstruck that he apparently had the balls to declare something like that before your father.

"Thank you for giving me so much love. Because of you, I realized that I too deserve to be loved."

You could feel tears glassing your eyes once again. “You are. I’m glad that you finally think so.”

And that was it—your love story. Something that had started when you were 15, and ended ten years later when you were 25, with swearing your love for each other in front of the sacred altar before your closest family and friends, and Megumi by your side.

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ifimdreaming · 3 months

Text

can i take you home?

luke hughes x reader || angst, fluff

request: “i like the idea of her best friend going to michigan/dating a former teammate of lukes so thats how luke and reader meet! i love angst and given that its lukes rookie year/she goes to college in another state, maybe they could be friends w benefits but both have strong feelings.”

author's note: i thought this request was so so cute so i kind of took it and ran. also kinda influenced by i miss you, im sorry by gracie abrams. this is also super long but i hope the ending is worth it. let me know if i should do more parts of this!

word count: 5.0k

Waking up to the sound of your best friend pounding on the guest bedroom door at 7am was not exactly the best way to start your day. But since you are staying the weekend in her student house that she shares with 5 other people, there are definitely unluckier ways you could have been awoken.

“Morning sleepy head!!! I'm so happy you're up!” your best friend Emma almost shouts as she barges in the room, after you very reluctantly told her she could come in. She immediately begins opening the curtains, and rummaging through her closet to find her outfit for the day.

In her haste she almost spills the two cups of coffee she had brought up from the kitchen as she sets them on the dresser beside the bed, her mug being almost completely empty anyway. You can tell by her enthusiasm and caffeine intake that she has been up for quite a long time before deciding to wake you up.

You groggily roll over and face away from the wide open curtains, not ready to face the day yet and really disappointed in yourself for choosing to drive up so late last night in the first place.

Of course you were happy to be able to visit your best friend, the two of you going to different schools making it incredibly hard to spend much time together anymore. But being back here brought back so many memories of the last time you visited. Both good and bad. And to be honest, all you could think about was him. From the very moment Emma invited you, he has been on your mind nonstop.

The way he made you feel so utterly adored when he brought you back to his room, how he spoke to you so gently and quietly the one morning when you were hungover, the time he spilled and called you ‘his’ while you were in bed together, and how much it seemed like it would last forever. It was all coming back so strongly.

“So, what are the plans for the day Little Miss Sunshine?” you sit up, reluctantly speaking your first words of the day after clearing your throat.

“Well! First I thought we'd go get bagels for breakfast from down the street, and then I think one of us may need a quick shower before we officially start our day…” Emma says with a hand on the side of her mouth, pretending to be saying a secret as she is side-eyeing you, and you just stare at her offendedly, “Aaand we are doing something tonight so maybe we should go shopping..” she says quickly and excitedly, clearly brushing past what exactly it is that we are doing tonight.

“Alright then.” you say as you check your phone for probably the 20th time in the 10 minutes you've been awake. And you can see Emma staring at you from the corner of your eye so you decide to throw your phone to the other side of the bed, getting up and ready to go. You knew she wasn't oblivious, but you did not want to acknowledge the look she was giving you right now, and honestly it did not seem necessary to bring anything up.

Besides, this weekend isn't even about him. Dylan's surprise birthday party is tomorrow and your best friend was so excited to be planning it with your help. She hadn't done anything this extravagant for her boyfriend before and she wanted everything to be absolutely perfect.

Obviously the last thing you would want to do is ruin this weekend for her, and your stupid feelings and non-relationship are included in that.

The walk to the bagel shop seemed awkwardly long as you were both not acknowledging the fact that your mind is very very distracted. It wasn't intentional. But feelings and places have such strong connections and the fact that things felt so unresolved was not helping. Everywhere you are here reminds you of him.

“How's your bagel?” Emma speaks up, finally breaking the silence on your walk home, thankfully giving you an opportunity to get out of your thoughts.

“Oh it's good! Thanks! I was super hungry…” you say, trying to muster up a believable enough reason for why you've been so off today.

You continue walking and shuffling your feet in silence and are about to return back to the house before Emma looks at you and sighs loudly.

So. Close. You are literally about to step onto the driveway of the house when she stops you.

“Ok can we just talk about it please? Because there is no way we are going to get through this entire weekend just ignoring it.” she says, stepping in front of you and blocking any sort of way for you to get out of this conversation.

“What are you talking about?” you say with a grumble and a sigh. Knowing she is going to get it out of you. Obviously she would.

“Luke.” Emma says deadpan, waiting for your response.

For some reason at this moment you wanted to cry just hearing his name. But you also wanted to yell. Your feelings were confusing and annoying and it upset you to even have to talk about it with someone, even though you knew you should.

“I don't know. I DON'T KNOW. I can't stop thinking about him, and everything is so confusing.” you whisper-yell at her in frustration.

It pained you to admit that you couldn't get him off your mind. You didn't realise how much you even liked him until having to admit that.

“He visited me during christmas… I mean, he did in the fall, but this time felt different.” You continue, “We slept together again. Everything felt like it was going so well…And now nothing.” you admit to her and wipe your face with your sleeves, angry at the tears that have fallen from your eyes.

“Has he called?” She asks warily.

“Once? Last week. It was short… but he sounded sad. He said he misses me. And he told me he really wanted to visit me. And I've texted him since then and no response.” you look down at your feet as you speak. It really shouldn't be this embarrassing to admit. It's not like you were in a relationship with him anyway.

“He's going to be here...tomorrow? I didn't know if you knew..” Emma says as she grabs your arm and slowly brings you close to her as you begin walking inside together and you nod your head in her direction.

You knew he would be here. Dylan is one of his best friends, obviously he isnt going to miss his 21st birthday. But with how things were currently going, it honestly made you wonder if Luke would even want you here. And what do his friends even know about you two? Has Luke said anything? So many questions are going through your head that it is almost making you dizzy.

The rest of the day is so much lighter after your earlier conversation. Emma is exponentially good at cheering people up, and maybe even to a fault, will always be on your side no matter what. But you appreciated it regardless.

You are currently finishing up putting on your makeup and getting ready to go out tonight, still very unaware of what the plan even is. But you didn't have much of a choice in the matter as Emma has picked out every aspect of your outfit tonight - down to the shoes, makeup, and jewellery.

Suddenly Emma gets a call from Dylan and runs into her bathroom to answer the phone, the music cutting out that was playing from her phone as she heads off, and silence filling the room.

You weren't intending to be eavesdropping, but you are able to hear muffled voices from the other side of the door and very hushed arguing that you couldn't quite make out. Making you curious as to what could possibly be going on tonight.

Emma saunters back into the room with hesitancy, her expression is scared and concerned at the same time as she is approaching you almost in slow-motion, saying nothing.

“What is it? Just spit it out.” you say, already knowing you are either about to hear the worst news of all time or the worst news of all time.

“Ok surprise! We're going out for sushi! Yay!” Emma says, obviously starting with the good news and you stay silent.

“And…Luke is coming out with us.” she continues, flinching at her own words as she plops herself on the bed across from you. You sit at her desk, makeup in hand, and cannot help but have an absolutely astonished look on your face.

Nothing is able to even leave your mouth as her words run through your mind again and again.

“I am so SO sorry.” She starts. “One of the guys accidentally told Dylan that Luke is in town and I didn’t want to ruin the surprise for tomorrow, so I told Dylan that Luke and I were trying to surprise him tonight for dinner. I didn't know what else to say. It was literally the first thing that came to my mind. I'm so sorry.” she continues, worried she has done irreparable damage on your friendship.

“You can kill me now.” Emma blurts out defeatedly, wanting to keep the surprise for tomorrow and not wanting all her efforts to be ruined the day before the party.

Obviously you love that girl, but very much did want to kill her in this moment.

“Does Luke know I'm going to be there?” you ask, brushing past everything else she has said.

“Dylan said he would tell him, yeah, but if you don't want to come please don't feel like you have to.” she says with a small smile, hoping you have some-what forgiven her.

“No, I'll still come.” you say quietly but matter-of-factly.

If Luke knew you were coming, it would be weird if you decided to stay home now because of it, and besides, what would you do here alone? Thinking of what he would be doing and wishing you could read his mind is all you can think of.

“OH? This is good! Ok! Dylan said he is picking us up in 20 minutes!” Emma states, suddenly very excitedly, hoping it will cheer you up to see that she is excited. And as you continue getting ready, nervous energy and anticipation fill your body.

Dylan shows up right on time, unfortunately for you, not giving you any extra time to sit and wallow in your feelings.

It was inevitable that you would be seeing Luke this weekend, but this quickly and under these conditions was not exactly ideal. You were hoping to at least be able to have a one-on-one conversation with him before being thrown into random get togethers where things have no chance but to be awkward.

The drive to dinner is surprisingly happy. Dylan seems so excited to be seeing his best friend again. He can't stop talking about the last time they saw each other and how long it has been. And Emma's laughter and giddy energy is helping you calm down and distract you just a little bit.

“The reservation is for 7pm so we might have to wait in the car for a few minutes.” Emma says, checking her phone as Dylan pulls up to the restaurant a bit early.

The dim lighting and intimate booths look extremely inviting as you peer inside the windows of the restaurant from the parking lot. You can't help but get distracted by watching people inside as Emma and Dylan talk from the front seats of the car and are cutely chatting to each other quietly.

“There's my boy!” Dylan yells out as he jumps out of the driver's seat, running up to give Luke a hug across the parking lot.

“Ready?” Emma looks back and asks you, reassuringly placing her hand on your knee and rubbing her thumb up and down a few times.

“Guess so…” you say with a fake smile as you grab your purse from beside you, and as you are about to leave the car, you see a tall figure standing right outside your door.

Only a little bit startled, you look up to see Luke as he opens your door for you and greets you with a tired smile. He is dressed nicely in black pants and a cream cable knit sweater, his hair curly and tousled up like always.

As you step out of the car he brings you into a tight hug, like he just couldn't wait to hold you again.

“I missed you…” Luke whispers so quietly into your ear that you almost couldn't hear him. He swiftly leaves a gentle kiss to the side of your head as he brings his hands just a bit lower down your back, “I’m sorry” he says quietly as he releases you.

As much as you want to reciprocate, you are so caught off guard by his words that you just stare up at him without a word.

“Alright let's go! I'm so hungry!” Dylan says, unaware of the tension, as he pats Luke's back and wraps an arm around him, walking in front of you and Emma and into the restaurant.

Emma is glancing at you as you walk together, waiting to hear from you what Luke said, but you decide to ignore it with a shrug and she looks away.

Dinner is filled with laughter and catching up with one another. Surprisingly it wasn't even half as awkward as you built it up to be. Dylan chatting away with Luke as you and Emma giggle across from each other about all the drama at your respective schools.

Having a couple of drinks throughout the night was definitely helping, but regardless of that, you felt good. Really good.

“Luke, how's the love life going for you? You got a girl in Jersey?” Dylan asks with a laugh as Emma had just bragged about her and Dylan going on 2 years of being together.

She shoots you a regretful look as she hits Dylan's side with her elbow, not as discreetly as she probably wanted to, and your face turns bright red.

Luke looks down at his lap and shakes his head with a chuckle, seemingly avoiding eye contact with you at all costs.

“No man, no girl in jersey.” Luke says lightly as he takes a drink of his beer before the two of you make eye contact and he glances down to your fidgety hands that are in your lap.

“My bad, my bad…” Dylan says with a laugh as he clears his throat and starts back to finishing the food on his plate, Emma quietly shushing her clueless boyfriend beside her.

Your nervous hands continue to pick at your cuticles and you look over to see Luke inching his hand closer beside yours on the booth bench. Looking up from your lap, you see him glancing back at you as he waits for your reaction before discreetly taking your hand in his under the table.

The feeling of his hand in yours is so comforting and familiar and immediately eases your anxiousness. But you still feel so conflicted.

Luke always knew how to comfort you and distract you from your thoughts when they were out of control. Especially during busy school semesters and many nights spent together with him keeping you company while you anxiously wrote papers and prepped for exams.

He seemed to be there for you when it felt like you had no one else. At least that's how it used to feel. Now things feel so complicated. Not knowing the status of your relationship surprisingly taking a much larger toll on your ability to act like friends than you would have ever thought.

“So! I've got the bill tonight guys. Happy birthday Dyl!” Emma blurts out as the waiter approaches the table, she leans over to give her boyfriend a loving kiss, comfortably filling the awkward silence that had just taken over the table not long before.

“Thank you baby! And hey! thanks guys for coming out tonight too.” Dylan smiles at the both of you as he lifts up his glass for a toast. You all clink your glasses, wishing him happy birthdays that follow big swigs of your almost empty alcoholic beverages.

Walking out of the restaurant, your mind fills with running thoughts. You wish you had spoken to Luke more tonight but it was hard to not make anything obvious. He seemed good, but still weirdly sad and you wanted to talk to him about it so badly. You wanted to talk to him about everything.

As you near Dylan's car you feel Luke's hand brush against yours and lightly hold your wrist, turning you around to face him.

“Can I take you home?” Luke shyly asks you as you all stand in the parking lot together. You mutter a “sure” under your breath with a nod, and he looks to Dylan and Emma for confirmation, both of them nodding in agreement before bringing you into tight hugs and saying goodbyes.

“Tell me everything that happens girly.” Emma runs back over to you and whispers into your ear as she hugs you goodbye once more, and all you can do is let out a small laugh in response to her teenage-esque behaviour.

After Dylan and Emma drive away, the short walk over to Luke’s car suddenly seems agonisingly long and your heart is racing in anticipation. Over anything else that happens tonight, you really wanted clarity. But of course, thoughts of the worst possible outcome ever sneak their way into your mind.

Luke opens the passenger side door for you and you climb into his car before he gently closes the door and walks to the other side. As he gets in, he begins to start the car before he looks over to you and pauses, the quiet becoming almost painful.

You didn't know what to say, and you didn't want to say the wrong thing. So, waiting for him to break the silence seemed to be your best bet.

“I know I should have thought of something to say…” He starts, and shuffles in his seat, slightly bending his right leg so he is facing you a little more.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't have stopped responding to you.” Luke continues, and you almost want to roll your eyes at his apology. It was so hard to be understanding when this felt like such a preventable situation on his part.

But you knew Luke. You knew when he was scared he got distant. You knew he was pulling back from you. You just didnt know why.

“Things have been so…weird…lately, and I just…I know I fucked up.” He confesses.

You didn't want to be reading between the lines anymore. You just wanted him to be honest with you about what he wants, and it frustrated you that he was being so vague.

“Luke, what do you want? Like, from me?” you ask innocently, but squint your eyes closed tightly as the words coming out of your mouth sound completely different from what you intended.

“Like, you told me we were friends. And obviously I was ok with that. But when you would visit me, we’d sleep together. And when you left it was like. I don't know…” you look down and pick at your fingers as you speak, looking up at him feeling like an almost impossible task.

“You told me you wanted to be friends.” Luke states, and gently grabs your hand. He holds it in his to stop you from destroying your fingers as you speak, which causes you to look up at him, thanking him silently, as he waits on your response.

“I said that because I knew how hard it would be for us to be so far away from each other.” you say strongly, feeling the sudden need to defend yourself.

“You know how important school is to me, and I know how important your career is to you. I don't want to distract you from what's important to you. I don't want to be the one that gets in the way of things, or be the reason why you're not as focused as you could be…as much as I want to be-” you begin to confess, but are quickly cut off.

“It's kinda too late for that…” Luke says with a chuckle as he tilts his head back against the headrest of his seat and looks out the front window, frustration still evidently seen on his face.

“What do you mean??” you ask, hoping he will elaborate a little more than he has been so far.

“You already distract me. I can't stop thinking about you. And it's obvious. In my game and everything too. Even Jack has noticed and he keeps asking me about you and I don't even know what to say. I can't shut him up. Cuz how am I supposed to tell him how I feel when I can't even tell you? Its actually really fuckin annoying.” he laughs as he explains, still looking ahead out the window instead of at you.

Luke has always sought to use humour and jokes in difficult situations, especially when it comes to his own feelings. He's clearly frustrated at himself and it hurts you to see him having such a hard time expressing himself.

“So why have you been so distant lately?! I’ve been really worried about you.” you say, suddenly feeling more confident in confronting him as he opens up to you.

“Cuz im scared im gonna fuck things up even more than I already have…” he says honestly as he turns his head to look at you again.

“I knew I should've said something from the moment we slept together the first time. I feel like I fucked up by keeping my mouth shut. It's been ruining my life to not just be honest with you.” he adds with a growl deep in his voice, anger at himself seeping through his words.

As he continues, you can't help but feel entranced by him in his current state, and suddenly you are very aware of how late at night it is becoming.

“It's my fault...” Luke says, and you desperately try to focus on his words and not his body.

But you can't help but think about how good his hands would feel on your body and how badly you want him to kiss you right here and now. You didn't care that you were still in the parking lot of a sushi restaurant. You didn't care that things were still so confusing and that this probably wasn't exactly the most ideal time to be feeling this way. You just felt like you needed him so badly.

“I've been treating you like shit lately. Regardless of us sleeping together, that should not change how I treat you. I've been a shitty friend to you, and I'm really really sorry.” he continues, and you are brought out of your trance.

His words hit you so hard. You both unknowingly made this relationship so complicated and weren't even aware of it. You knew Luke was not perfect, but for some reason you expected him to be able to read your mind, and vice versa. Even after being the one to say you should stay friends, you were silently upset that nothing was happening in the way you wanted.

“Luke, it's ok. Both of us have not been entirely honest with each other lately and it's made everything so… fucked up. We’re just… in a weird spot.” you say, hoping your words make any sense considering you zoned out for half of his apology.

“Can I just say that I want to be able to fix this?” Luke says as he places his hand on your thigh, his fingers mindlessly getting higher and higher as he rubs slowly back and forth. Trying his best to soothe you and unknowingly turning you on even more.

“It isn't just on you to fix.” you say as you place your hand softly over his, stopping his movement on your leg as to not let it overly distract you.

“Yes it is. I let you down. I fucked up by being so fucking…distant. I should've been more clear about what I want…that I want you..” Luke admits, giving into what he has wanted to say from the moment you got into the car together.

His eyes are fixed on yours and it makes your heart flutter in your chest. Hearing him so confidently confess how he is feeling after so long is such a relief. It makes you want to just tell him you love him right here and now.

“I know things are complicated…but, I really don't want to not have you in my life…” Luke adds as tears begin to well in his eyes, catching you both off guard.

“Oh Lukey.” you whisper as you hold his face in your hands, your heart melting at the sight of him.

Luke places his hands on your wrists, pulling them away from his face as he finally leans into you.

His lips hit yours with an intensity that you have never felt before from him. His hands move away from yours, and to the base of your neck, gently pulling you closer into him as he deepens the kiss.

Your eyes are glued shut as you are entranced by his lips finally being connected with yours as his tongue dances around in your mouth.

Needing to have your hands on him, you reach up to brush his face with your thumbs and then begin gently tugging at the curls at the nape of his neck, causing him to lustfully groan deep into your mouth. Your mind is filled with excitement and intensity as the moment grows in mutual desire.

“I needed you baby.” You say rushedly, disconnecting with him for only a moment.

Luke smiles against your lips as you connect again, and he places his left hand on your hip, massaging his fingers into your side. You lift yourself lightly onto the centre-console, desperate to be as close to him as you can get, and he lowers his hand just below your ass to help support you.

Although being in the close quarters of Luke's car while having such a monumental conversation about your relationship was not quite ideal, you were so thankful for it at this moment.

“I needed you too.” Luke says after coming up for air, and you just stare at him with a dizzy smile, your head reeling with arousal.

He pecks your lips a few times before lowering his head to your collarbone, gently kissing your neck and leaving red marks where he most definitely has before.

Your giggles fill the car as he continues expeditiously exploring your body, wanting to savour every moment of your presence and relishing in the way he is pleasing you.

Luke looks up at you with a smile before his eyebrows furrow and he is distracted by something behind you, causing you to whip your head around to look out your window, immensely alarmed at his expression.

Luke lightly lets go of you, allowing you to sit properly in your seat and as your eyes focus on the window, the sight of a kind-looking restaurant hostess tapping on the glass outside of your door almost sends you reeling into a panic.

Luke quickly reassures you with a laugh, placing his hand on your arm and starting the car before beginning to roll your window down for them to speak.

“I am so sorry if I startled you, but our restaurant has closed, which means we can no longer allow you to park here, as free parking ends at midnight.” the hostess explains politely while pointing to the sign posted on the brick wall just in front of Luke's car.

“Thanks Ma’am. We’re so s-sorry.” Luke pauses to hide his face, clearly hiding that he is about to break into laughter.

“We’ll leave right aw-” Luke laughs out, hardly able to finish his sentence before being sent into a fit of silent laughter.

“We’re so sorry. Have a good night!” you say more seriously, trying to make up for the completely unserious boy beside you.

“Goodnight guys!” the hostess says as she walks away, leaving you completely embarrassed and also scared half to death.

Luke continues dying of laughter and is hunched over the steering wheel as you punch his arm repeatedly to get his attention.

“That was awful! Why are you laughing so hard!” you say unimpressed, but still unable to hold back laughter of your own after seeing him look up at you with tears in his eyes.

“Fuck. I can't get over your face.” Luke says as he begins to come down a little, wiping the tears from his eyes. You just shake your head and begin to buckle your seatbelt, not taking any chances of having to be asked to leave once more.

“Fuck.” he says once more with a sigh, relaxing in his seat and looking over to you with a genuine smile before patting your thigh reassuringly.

You look to Luke expectantly and he stares back at you with a smirk before kissing your lips passionately, catching you off guard.

Your hands are drawn to his face as he nudges your chin with his, causing you to lean into him even further before he pulls away from you abruptly.

“Can I take you home?” Luke asks with lust in eyes as he brushes his thumb across your cheek, admiring every single feature on your face. His words having a different meaning to both of you than they have previously tonight.

“For real this time?? Because you know we cant sit in this parking lot any longer…” you say jokingly as Luke rolls his eyes at you and begins to put his seatbelt on.

“Yes, for real this time.” He retorts. His right hand eagerly finding yours as he interlocks your fingers with his, bringing your hand up to his lips to place a tender kiss before finally driving off.

#devils lb #nj devils #nhl #luke hughes #new jersey devils #jack hughes #hockey blurb #hockey imagine #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes fic #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes angst #luke hughes imagine #nhl blurb

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1nthedarknessofthenight · 1 month

Text

﴾ out of the blue, part one.

pairing: lee felix x f!reader, part two

genre: one-shot, idol au, smut

word count: 5,3k

warnings: dry humping ⋆ unprotected sex ⋆ switch!felix and switch!reader ⋆ oral (m. receiving) ⋆ hair pulling ⋆ ass slapping ⋆ fingering (f. receiving) ⋆ cowgirl!position ⋆ ass up, face down!position ⋆ slight voyeurism ⋆ creampie

summary: it is you boyfriend’s birthday and you decided to let him unwrap his gift a little sooner…

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Another minute passed by, watching your boyfriend click away on his computer. Surely this wasn’t your favorite way of how to spend your time but you just couldn’t say no to his pretty face. You never minded when Felix played, you quite enjoyed it actually and sometimes he would let you play with him also. However today was a special day, it’s supposed to be to him anyway. It was his birthday and he spend almost the whole day playing on his computer because of some bonus you get only on your birthday. You weren’t opposed to it at first but one hour turned into two and now it was pushing to the third. Does he even know he has been playing this long?

You laughed slightly at one of his outburst or the way he got so constrained, it was cute. But it was already too much for you. You wanted to maybe go somewhere or something but if he prefers to stay at home, so be it but not with you watching him play from your lonely, cold bed. Not to mentioned you felt unseen. It was a little silly, he was literally playing with you right behind him on his bed and you shouldn’t feel like you need to have his validation. It was probably because of the lack of sex.

It wasn’t like it was horrible or anything like that, you two actually sometimes got a little carried away and horny in the most unsuitable of places but it wasn’t all too common experience these days. Felix is simply too busy preparing for a new comeback with the other guys and he would always arrive home at the early hours of the morning. When you heard he had the whole weekend free, you heart flutter at the thought of spending it with him and finally getting to feel him again after so long.

You desperately wanted to be mad at him right now but you just couldn’t, because he is sometimes an air head, oblivious. Your body rolled around in the bed in boredom. You didn’t want to scroll through your phone anymore, you just want your boyfriend. Your godly boyfriend with his lovely, dreamy face and hard body and his pretty hands and those luscious lips—

A long sighs leaves you, dreamingly but Felix didn’t seem to notice your change of mood, so you sighed again and again till he finally turned his head slightly to your direction. Not too long for him to loose his focus or for you to feel wanted. “I’m almost done, baby”

“You already said that like an hour ago.” You whine out, not caring if you sounded desperate, watching Felix attention completely plastered on the monitor. You almost wanted to throw a tantrum again before an idea popped into your head. Well, it wasn’t like you haven’t planned it to give to him this evening but seeing him so clearly in his world right now, you simply couldn’t miss the opportunity to surprise him even more.

You rolled out of the bed, walking to the small bag at the corner of the room. It was hidden behind a wardrobe and lucky for you Felix didn’t seem to notice your moving around. You grab it, hiding it quickly behind your back before making your way to the bathroom. As you get there, you give your boyfriend a one last look before closing the door and locking it. It would be a shame to spoil his own surprise.

Clothes fall down on the bathroom floor, opening up the bag with your face slightly flooding with heat. There were many times when you almost bought something like this but anything in the big malls wasn’t anything special and also—too slutty for your taste. You wanted something cute, so subtle that it would make you feel and look more desirable than any other strappy lingerie on the market. Everyone knew about his obsession with cute things as he was one himself but you waited a long time till you found something perfect and more precisely in his favorite color. Since you bought it that baby blue material of the baby doll made you all giddy inside every time you would thought about wearing it for him. Something about buying and then wearing something like this for your partner felt so intimate and you hope that he will like it as much as you do. You suddenly become weary about how you look when you glanced at your reflection.

The lacy cups of the top fit you snuggly, from there a pretty blue tulle fell down to your waist. Pulling up the bottom of it, you twirled around to look at the white and blue, lace panties that compliment the details of the whole piece. It was so pretty that it made you slightly insecure about your bare face and unmade hair. You still could hear the soft clicking of his keyboard from behind the closed door, giving you a signal that you still have time to do something about that.

You don’t even know how long you spend in the bathroom doing your make up and hair but it surely couldn’t be any longer than you oogling yourself in the mirror. You don’t think you have ever felt this pretty. You obviously can’t mentioned the times when those words fell from your boyfriend’s mouth but it felt even better when you thought of yourself like that. Your makeup was kept light, cheeks softly blushed and in the same color as your lips with some light pink eyeshadow and glitter that made your eyes pop. You even got to do your hair quite nicely. You trailed your hands over your body, giving yourself a one last look before departing from your little hide out.

When you walk out you had to grin at the back of Felix’s head which was still turned to his computer. You kept your footsteps light, not like it could disturb him from his consecration. Your feet stopped just few steps away from him, playing with your fingers behind your back as you suddenly become nervous. “Felix….Felix-“

“Baby, I promise I’m almost–“ His sentence was left unfinished as he turned around.

His eyes became so wide that you feared they would pope out of their sockets. He turned his body fully to your direction in his chair, looking down at your body with mouth open. “Holy shit–“ He groans, head falling slightly back on the headrest, his game now completely forgotten. “Fuck–“ Felix rambles on, his hands forming into fists as his warm brown eyes stop at your pushed up breast.

You didn’t know how to take his reaction as the room was only left in silence after that. Your smile slightly fell as his eyes were completely unmoving from your figure. Did he not like it? Did he not like your body? It is quite a while since he last seen you like this but he always made you feel so good about your body, couple of times even mentioning how he wanted to be inside you every day if possible because it made him feel so close to you…So why was he so quiet right now?

You sway slightly on your feet, looking away from his seating figure. “Do you like it?” You said, wondering, voice small.

At the question he seem to blink away from whatever trance he was. Felix breathed out like you were crazy for even questioning it. “Do I like it?” He repeated your words, looking into your eyes, his eyes even darker than before. “I love it baby. Fuck, I love it so much.” You smiled at his words, hearing the genuine tone in them and you couldn’t help but shiver at his low voice. “Come here.” He said, patting his lap. He doesn’t have to ask you twice.

You fall into his lap, arms at the back of his head, giving him his own personal pillow with the palms of your hands. The moment you sat onto his lap, you both sighed out at the close proximity. You both needed this so bad. His hands pull away a strand of your hair away from your face, him noticing the make up you put on just for him. God, if he wasn’t rock hard from the moment he saw you, he would be surely now because of the fact you did all of this just for him. “How are you so pretty…” You sniffled a giggle at that, all worries flying out of the window.

You didn’t answer because firstly you didn’t know how and secondly because he suddenly grabbed your ass, pinching it between his fingers. You moan softly into his neck at his touch, it almost felt like the first time you two were together. You already could feel your wetness soaking through the front of your new panties. His fingers folded the meat of your cheeks so hard that there will be certainly marks after but you didn’t care about that. One of his hands then trail over your body to your cheekbone while the other fell into the dip of your waist. “You’re so pretty, Y/N.” He complimented you again, looking lovingly into your eyes. “My pretty girl.” His lips fell onto yours, firstly gently but it didn’t take long before his intention became rough.

You both moaned every time either of you would part your lips for a quick breath, teeth almost clashing together at the pace. “Pretty girl, my pretty girl-“ He would say between kisses, hands grasping all over your body, your mind only being filled with him and him only. “Say it-“ Felix groaned, pulling away from your lips but before you could whine in process his mouth was on your neck next. “Say that you’re my pretty girl.”

You hiss as his teeth nibbled at your sweet spot, it was all so much that you again almost forgot to response. “I’m yours, I’m your pretty girl..” And you were. He always made you feel like it, there wasn’t anyone who could make your heart beat like this.

He licks the side of your neck slowly before his lips graze over your ear. “That’s right.” His voice made your whole body vibrate. Both of his hands than fell onto your ass again, a loud smack! echoing in the room. You whimper at the delicious sting, him moaning with you before his hands started to rock you back and forth on his lap. You don’t think you have ever heard him make sounds like that. Every time you would roll your hips over the buldge in his sweatpants, he would release a whimper, almost like a cry in pain. You couldn’t help yourself but to enjoy the power you had over him right now. Maybe you should wear something like this more often?

Your clit is probably all puffy from how hard you are rolling over your boyfriend’s cock. Your juices were already putting a huge stain on the material of his sweatpants but that wasn’t relevant right now. The most important thing was how much Felix seems to be enjoying this. His eyes would open and then close again, like he was trying so desperately to keep them open and watch your body covered in favorite color and the way your tits bounce with your movements. Sweat was forming at his forehead that was put against yours and when a sob rings in the air, you momentarily stop your movements in small concern.

“No! Fuck don’t stop.” He suddenly woke up from his immense pleasure to look at you pleadingly. Your breathing was heavy from the heat of the moment, gasping at his tear stained eyes. Always— when it was too much for him he would cry but not like this when you were only just humping each other. You wish you could take a picture and then post it so others could see how pretty, how ruined he looked right now. Your sudden stop in movements, made him pathetically raise his hips to meet yours in despair. “Please, I was so–“ Felix doesn’t finish, slighty embarrassed at his own words, cheeks, neck and ears completely red.

You gave him a small peck on his pouty lips, pulling his long blonde hair away from his sweaty skin. “Shhh, what do you want, Lixie? Tell me…” His glassy eyes pull you closer, hugging your body closer to his chest if even possible.

“Can I eat you out?”

You laughed at his words, him only grumbling back in response. You smoothen down his hair again before pulling his head from you chest to make him look at you. Gosh, he really is an angel. You loved the way he could have you completely at his mercy as well as also giving up all control every once in while. “It’s your birthday, baby. Let me take care of you.”

He sighed in annoyance, head banging into his headrest. “Yes, it is, so let me eat you out. Please, I want to taste you so bad.” The way he says it, kissing all over your neck and groping at your breast…it almost made you give in but you did held your ground.

“No.”

He whined out at your words and even more as you pulled away from him, standing up to your wobbly feet. Before he could whine like the baby he is any longer, his mood changes back to desperation as you sink down to your knees before him. He couldn’t help but gulp as your hands trailed teasingly over his thighs, your pretty nails that he exceptionally payed for you every time you would get them done, scrape hard enough that he could feel them on his skin. This was all torture for him. Not being able to get his hands own you, licking up all your sweetness and now you’re teasing him? He thinks that you enjoy seeing him like this a little more than you would like to admit.

To his relief your fingers finally trailed over the hem of his sweats. He fights the shiver at your soft touch, hands trailing over his happy trail to his abs. You once mentioned how you would love to lick whip cream from them…maybe for your birthday…You then tug at the material of his sweatpants, him helping you take them off, throwing them somewhere in the room and leaving him just in his underwear. A smile forms on your lips and he didn’t like that. He knew that smile and the way you look good enough to eat made it even harder, made him even harder.

Your lips left kisses on his milky thighs, muscles jumping at the almost ticklish sensation. Felix felt like crying and how could he not? He had the prettiest girl on his knees right now but she is only being mean to him. He felt how much he was leaking from his tip and if he would look down he could see you almost drooling on the obvious outline of his dick in his boxers. Felix was too occupied with not just giving himself fully to you, not because he doesn’t want to but because he still wanted to fuck you senseless into the mattress later.

Mouthing at his cock through his underwear nextly, made him groaned loudly, the sound ringing in both of yours ears. The yummy, salty taste hit your tongue, immediately sucking harder at where his tip was, the wet spot growing even larger. “P-please, I can’t take this-“ The blonde said, bottom lip quivering, looking down at your lust filled eyes.

You to his surprise, actually showed him mercy, finally pulling down his ruined underwear. His cock slapped against his stomach which was left revealed from your hungry hands and to your delight he pull his shirt over his head. You sometimes wonder how you got so lucky but he thought the same thing about you — guess you’re both lucky. You become hungry too at the thought of something more, already having enough of your own teasing. After so long you finally have him…maybe this will show him to give it to you more often.

You grab him at the base, the simple touch making him sigh in relief, body slumping in his chair. The tip of his cock was all red, leaking cum every time you would swipe your thumb over it. Felix jump at the sensitivity, not expecting it, whimper falling out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Another thing that you love about him was how he sounded, how loud he was and how he could get so whiny and also so deep, sighing at your every touch. He loves that you don’t mind him being so loud. Getting some of his precum, you then start to slowly jerk him off, pussy fluttering at his sinful noises. He has to put them in a song some day but you pride in the fact that you were the only one hearing him, making him sound like this.

You get him wet enough for you to jerk his tip easily, the wet sounds making him blush in embarrassment before it quickly fade away as your tongue lick from the base to the top. You repeated that few times, keeping your hand on his tip before you switch it with your lips and you have to moan at his taste. He already looked like a total wreck and you had to pat yourself on the back, he was completely at your mercy or so you thought…

You gag, choking on his cock as his hips buckle harshly. You immediately pull away, as you basically swallowed him whole at one go. Grabbing his cock again, you squeeze it tightly, not enough to hurt but enough to make him sob out. “Shit, sorry…your mouth is just s-so g-good.” He really did look sorry, but it wasn’t like you haven’t let him fuck your mouth before but this is the first time seeing him so inpatient. “Just please, please–Oh! Fuck!”

You went to silence him by sucking hard on his tip, slurping him all up before slowly going more down on him. Your head bobbed up and down, hand jerking off what you couldn’t fit. Now? He sounded like a slut, his hard abdomen tensing up, hand pulling your styled hair between his fingers. You look up at him when he tugged at the root, teary eyes almost not seeing his, his other hand wiping away your tears shakily. Even in these moments he is being so sweet to you and your underwear was definitely see through at this point. Your hand starts to cramp, making you take a deep breath with your nose before taking him all done your throat.

He groaned as he hit the back of your throat, keeping you there for moment and then going to pull you back up but to his surprise you gave him a look back, keeping him fully on your tongue as one of your hands came to his balls. You knew how much he like that, every time you did that his mind went black and the way you were swallowing him whole was already all too much for him. You start to move your mouth again, hand still fondling his balls. By his sounds you know he is close, he always becomes quiet, sighing shortly like gasping for air.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cuuum-“ You were suddenly pulled back by your hair from his cock, both of you gasping out at the lost of contact. A drool connect your red lips to his cock before breaking, feeling your mascara smearing under your eyes from your tears. You don’t even know who might look more ruined at this point. Your eyes fell to his cock, covered in your spit, shining in the light and twitching against his stomach.

You were pulled to your feet, legs wobbling slightly but your boyfriend was there to caught you before he throws you down on the bed. “You’re gonna be the death of me someday.” Felix laughed breathlessly and you couldn’t help but too, pulling him down on top of you to kiss him.

He moaned at the taste of himself on your tongue, straighting his back to take again a better look at you. Bottom lip pulled between his teeth he pulls your legs apart, eyes widening at your thighs soaked in your wetness and more on the filthy material covering your cunt. “You’re the best present ever, baby.” You pull your hands to your face as he then swiped his fingers over you through the underwear. It almost hurt how much you wanted him right now.

“Then…aren’t you going to unwrap it?” You said, sighing out when he pulled your panties to the side.

“You wouldn’t mind keeping this on?” He asked looking up at you briefly before his eyes go back to your glistening pussy. It didn’t even sound like you had a choice. “I like how you’re all dolled up for me.” You nod, wordless as you are finally getting his touch after so long.

He dip his fingers between your swollen lips, smearing your wetness over your twitching clit. You don’t know if it was because he hadn’t touched you in so long but you already felt like cumming. Your hips buckle as he started to circle the bundle of nerves, pressing hard on it, just how you like it. He wasn’t looking much better. Breathing heavily at the sight before him and at your every little sound. Your nails scrape at his flushed, freckled skin when he travels his other hand to your entrance.

Felix pressed his finger inside of you, moaning at the way you suck him right in. He thought you needed some stretching out but you were so wet that he slipped another of his fingers right in. Your boyfriend didn’t have the longest fingers but they were quick and so precise at targeting that one plushy spot—“Fuck, Felix-“ You gasp out as he curled his fingers just right, whole body trembling as he started to quicken his movements.

He shut you up with his mouth, fucking his tongue inside your mouth. Moaning with you at the wet sounds of your hungry cunt, biting down on your bottom lip. No words were exchanged, only just sighing in to each other’s mouths. He rutted against your thigh, hot and heavy and just the thought of having him inside you made you closer. The way how he is so good at everything was beyond you. “I’m close.” You rasp out, grabbing at his shoulder tightly as the familiar feeling starts to bubble inside your lower tummy.

Felix pulls away to look at you fully, making you quiver at his dark look and bitten lips. “Yeah? Come on baby.” He whispered filthily, voice deep, his other hand now rubbing tight circles on your clit. “Cum for me…” You let out a long drawn moan, whole body shaking, legs clasping around his hips to pull him even closer to you. Your release completely flooded his hands, soaking the sheets with your mind blowing orgasm.

Your ears ring as your head slumps onto the sheets. It’s been so long that you already felt worn out but your boyfriend had a whole different idea. He kissed you hungrily, brushing your hair lovingly, his hands all sticky from you and looking at you like you hanged the moon but you know you probably look like a complete mess. Your mind comes back to you at the touch of his cock just below your pussy. “Ride me baby, come on.” The blonde groans out, pulling you up. “It’s my birthday after all.” You let out a small laugh, a little exhausted but you couldn’t miss the opportunity to ride him.

As he got comfortable on the bed, you smoothen down your wild hair and the straps of your babydoll that keep sliding down. He literally made you cum so hard that you could hardly think straight and now he was looking at you so innocently and all naked, waiting for you. He really is the devil in disguise. Felix pats his thighs at you in expectation, smiling at you sweetly, it made your heart melt and your cunt gush.

You put your legs at each side of his hips, balancing yourself with your hand on his abs while the other grabbed his cock. The hands on your thighs tightened as his tip glides along your pussy and you couldn’t help but sigh out in bliss as you slowly lowered yourself on him. The stretch was even more delicious than you remembered. He was literally made for you.

The room was only filled with your noises of pleasure and your skins slapping against each other. You really are trying to give it all to him hard but every time you would swallow him whole, your legs would shake wildly at the pleasure. He watched with big eyes your bouncing tits that were spilling out from your top and then looking back at your blissful face. “S-so good.” The blonde shuttered, hands groping at your tits, thumbs trailing over your exposed, hard nipples. “S-so fucking good to me.”

You moaned in agreement, breathing heavily. Your legs scream at you but it was too good to stop. “Please-“ You pleaded, eyes glassy, looking down at him. “Please, fuck me hard Felix, I-I need it–“

He surprises you with his change of demeanor but you did ask for it. He grabs your hips, pulling out of you and manhandling you on to your tummy. A puff of air comes from you, arching your back, almost like in a muscle memory and putting your ass high enough for him to slide right in. The change of positions made him go even deeper, every snap of his hips hitting the small spot inside you. You are already drooling on the bed, brain dead at the way he is fucking you. “You look so good like this, fuck–“ More curses fly from his full lips, you whimpering back at him. A nasty slap rings in the air as his hand meets your right cheek, your skin jiggling by the impact. It only made him go faster.

Felix always fucks hard but there is also the undertone of his undying love for you. “Wish I could take a picture.” He said, between each trust. He grasp you by your hair, pulling your head up enough to see your fuckout state and whisper in your ear. “Fuck, I do wish I could show them how good you’re taking me, would you like that?” He hummed. You don’t know what to say to that as you are far too gone and also you don’t know what you should answer at such question.

At your lack of answer he pulls your hair harder but still not hard enough to hurt you but you could feel your scalp burn slightly. “Answer me.” He said, almost hissing out, you are just in shock by his words. “You’re not listening, too cock drunk to even think huh? I know how much you would enjoy them seeing you like this but you will always be mine–“

“Yes!” You moaned loudly at one particular angle of his thrusts that hit your spot perfectly. “I’m yours.” He pulled you into a messy kiss, his own hips shuttering against your ass. Your mixed drool fall down your chins, whining loudly. It doesn’t take long for him to go quiet again, eyebrows furrowed and your eyes roll back into your head, cumming for the second time but now finally on his cock. He whimpers at your walls squeezing around him, hips stilling before you could feel his cum spilling inside of you.

You both in exhaustion fell over, his softening cock still twitching inside of you as well as your cunt sucking him dry. Felix presses small kisses on your sweaty shoulder, feeling a smile on your skin and you couldn’t help but to pull him into a kiss. You two layed there like this for a while before he pulls out of you, you whining at the lost of contact. “I’ll be right back.” Felix said, kissing your head and walking away to the bathroom.

He comes back shortly with a cloth for you to wash yourself as you are too exhausted to move. You sit up to take it from him but he beats you to it, wiping carefully his leaking cum out of you. He is such a sweetheart. Smiling wildly he finally falls back on the bed after cleaning you up. “How did you like your present?” You grinned at him as he played with the blue tulle of your baby doll.

“I love it.” He said, glancing up at you to meet your eyes. “Maybe we could do it more often?” You two laughed at his words.

You can’t help but to wonder back at his words. What did he mean by letting his band members seeing you like this? You are not blind, all of his friends are attractive but would he really not mind sharing you? Or was it just the heat of the moment? Well it did made you hot all over and if he didn’t like that idea he wouldn’t say it, right?

You sit up, looking down at him. “I bought some of those small cakes you like so much.”

He gasps at your words, eyes twinkling. “Gosh, you really are the best girlfriend ever!” He exclaimed, pulling you down for a hug, making you sniffle a laugh into his chest.

You pull away from him, again. “I should get dressed.” You said, pulling yourself from the bed.

He at that stops pulling his t-shirt over his head. “No, keep it!” You raised an eyebrow at him and he pouts back at you with a pointed look. “It’s my birthday!” Rolling you eyes, you nod pulling him out of the room with you but he was still quick enough to smack you across your ass, a squeal coming out of you as he only laughed back at your reaction.

You walk into your kitchen that is joined with your living room but you would’ve never guessed someone already sitting at your couch. And not just someone…your boyfriend’s friends that were just a second ago mentioned while you two were fucking. “Are you guys done? I thought the roof would come down from how much you two were fucking.” Said Minho, making you both gasp.

You stood there in shock and you weren’t the only one as all eyes fell on you. You suddenly become aware of your state, pulling down the bottom of your babydoll but it only made your breast spill out from the top. You meet briefly the eyes of the youngest who quickly look away with wide eyes and then your eyes meet your boyfriend’s best friend who actually has no intention of looking away like his other friend. “Want us to joy or something?” Snickers Seungmin, some of the guys joining him but you couldn’t help but notice the obvious blush on his neck.

It wakes you up from your shock, quickly twirling around to go back to your bedroom but now your whole ass is basically out for anyone to see. You swear you heard some of them groan. A hand around your wrist however stops you from running away in embarrassment. You turn your head to meet the puppy dog eyes of your boyfriend. “Can we baby? Please, it’s my birthday but only if you want to...” You suddenly remember that his friends really were supposed to come over and celebrate with you both…was this actually his plan all along?

You shiver at his words, eyes flickering to the others who look at you hungrily. How could you possibly not say yes?

#stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #lee felix #felix x reader #skz felix #felix smut #lee felix smut #lee felix x reader #skz fanfic #bangchan x reader #changbin x reader #han jisung x reader #lee know x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #seungmin x reader #i.n x reader

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randomdragonfires · 21 days

Text

Moon Song | One Shot

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | He killed Lucerys, but Aemond sees the ghost of his nephew wherever he goes - especially in his sweet wife's eyes.

WARNINGS | 18+; Smut; ANGST; Delusions; Incest; Dark Themes; Kinslaying; DD;DNE!

WORD COUNT | 6.6k

A/N | Originally written as a birthday gift for @humanpurposes. Nothing says happy birthday like a dark fic about madness and murder I guess? :)

RAIN-SOAKED AND WEARY, AEMOND TRUDGES THROUGH the murky streets of King's Landing, his cold and damp riding leathers offering no respite. Each step echoes with the haunting images of Vhagar's reckless attack on Luke, the small, agonizing details etched into his mind like a deep carving. The city, shrouded in an eerie mist, seems to mourn his nephew in silent empathy.

A scared face. The cracking of jaws. The sight of Arrax’s wing flapping aimlessly down into the sea. Luke, falling free through the skies…

The Red Keep looms ahead, its imposing towers piercing the darkened sky. Aemond ascends the ancient stone steps in silence, his solitude a curtain shrouding the tempest raging within him. The guards watch him cautiously, sensing the palpable storm that accompanies the one-eyed Prince’s return. As he passes, the torches on the wall flicker, casting grotesque shadows that dance along the corridor walls.

Entering the shared chambers, Aemond's presence goes unnoticed at first. His wife awaits him, her gaze filled with a mixture of concern and anticipation as she sits at the edge of the bed, finding his gaze and immediately making note of his distress. He can feel her scrutiny, her eyes seeking answers he isn't ready to give. With how disappointed she may be, he is not sure that he’ll ever want her to know. But he knows she must, and that he’d rather it come from him than anyone else.

Words remain unspoken as Aemond, drenched and disheveled, closes the distance between them. She hasn’t moved, holding onto him by the waist as he encloses his cold hands onto the back of her head, finding some semblance of comfort in the warmth of her hair. His wife's face softened, ready to welcome him, oblivious to his guilt and agony. In the silence that hung thick in the air, he braced himself for the storm about to engulf their world.

“You’re cold, Aemond. Let me find you something warm to wear,” she says. He doesn’t let her leave him; he will not let her leave him, ever. In heavy times like these, he’s always quite liked having her to hold - and right now, it seems like she understands it just as well as she always does. She is a part of him, made to be by his side.

She’s my twin. She is mine. Her place is by my side, and nobody else’s!

He remembers the words. It was the night he had come to, after his eye had been slashed out. The marriage pact had been brokered in the aftermath, a compensation for the losses suffered. His nephew's tantrum and those venomous words had sown the seeds of a bitter possession, one that manifested in the subtle manipulative gestures that followed.

He had reveled in taunting Luke, relishing in the knowledge that he had triumphed over his nephew in more ways than one. Aemond had married his niece, a Princess of Targaryen blood, a strategic move with which he had alleviated the stain of bastardy off of her. He’d spend years taunting Luke over his wins, and he’d finally taken his life too. And now, his wife was about to cast him aside for it.

As he confessed to his wife, his eye, haunted by the accident, bore into hers, seeking understanding, pleading for empathy. The air grew dense, the chasm between them widening like an insurmountable abyss, a reflection of the irreversible consequences that now consumed them.

I need you to believe me.

In the flicker of candlelight, hope clung to Aemond like a shadow, a desperate desire for his wife to see beyond the tragedy. Yet, her features twisted in disbelief, mirroring the horror within him. He had not expected any less, but to see it happen is like a dagger twisting in his heart.

He’s losing her. He cannot lose her. As she tries to draw away, he lets desperation take over him. He would be damned if he let her slip away over something that he did not mean to happen.

His grip on her tightens to the point of choking, her eyes widening as she realizes that she is trapped. Not just in his hold, but in this marriage with a man that would stop at nothing, and is not even above killing family to survive. How long before he kills me too, she probably thinks.

He longs to assure her that he wouldn’t hurt a hair on her head, but she is angry. She does not want to hear from him, so he will settle for her forced presence for now. Surely she’ll see. He cannot bear for her to look scared and fearful - she looks too much like her twin when she does. The last thing Aemond needs is to be reminded of him.

Her sobs soak through his already damp clothes. She tries to push him away, but he is like a never-ending nightmare - the more she tries, the tighter his hold becomes, refusing to give her the solitude she craves. He wants to, he is simply scared - what if she never chooses to welcome him again?

Why?

His touch, once a source of comfort, now repulses her, but he remains oblivious to her inner turmoil. In the midst of her agony, he lowers her gently onto the bed, attempting to offer solace through caresses and kisses, unaware that his touch has become a reminder, a brand of her brother's murderer. She refuses to believe that it was an accident, and he is further pained at the dark realization that he may not be above killing her if she tries to betray and leave him over this. After all, if he cannot have her, no one else will.

"Stay with me, wife. Stay with me, and you will be kept alive and safe.” Try to leave me, and you will not live to see the next sunrise.

The unspoken threat hangs in the air, a chilling promise that holds its own through his silence and her sobs. She closes her eyes, her unease palpable, a fear of the man she shares her bed and heart with. Aemond, too, watches her drift away, inch by agonizing inch, knowing he will have to learn to endure. He’ll have to, if her place is by Aemond’s side - and the day he married her, he’d solidified that.

What he won’t quite get used to is realizing how much like Luke she looks in fear, and how her eyes make it seem as though he is boring into his nephew’s instead. The resemblance unnerves him as he is taken back to the skies of Storm’s End in his mind once again - Luke had looked just as fearful for his life in his last moments. She is a reminder of what he’s done, of the half of her who is now lost.

How could he have expected that his own living, breathing wife would haunt him so?

THE LIBRARY IS CLOAKED IN A HUSHED DARKNESS as Aemond buries himself in his book, the words flying over his head as he tries to comprehend them. The oppressive silence of the night presses upon him, mirroring the strain in his heart. His worry for his wife weighs heavily on his mind, a persistent ache that refuses to be ignored. She has withdrawn from him, choosing silence over conversation, and the void between them grows deeper with each passing day.

In dreams, Luke sits atop his fledgling dragon, looking at him with a somber expression that makes him appear at peace. They are in the skies of Storm’s End again, only this time, neither of them is involved in a chase. They face each other, and each time, Luke talks, and Aemond seems to have no choice but to listen.

This did not have to happen, uncle, he would say. You could have let me live.

Every time, he wakes and resists the urge to slam his fists and pull his spun silver hair out as he wills the fragments of Lucerys to leave him be. He had initially blamed the shock, but even as he gains his bearings, the visions, dreams, and voices only seem to become louder, stronger, and sharper. It would seem that the more desensitized and ready to face war he becomes, the more his nephew insists on haunting him - reminding him that he is no war god, but simply a boy forced to grow into a man too soon.

This did not have to happen, uncle. You made a terrible mistake.

“Leave me in peace bastard, be gone!” He would scream as he slams his fist into the table and sends parchment flying.

Aemond's torment continues unabated, the ghost of Luke lingering in every corner of his life, a silent spirit that refuses to be exorcized. Late at night, as Aemond lies in bed, he catches glimpses of Luke's face in the shadows that dance on the walls, his eyes hauntingly fixed upon him. The weight of his gaze bears down on Aemond's soul, making sleep an elusive and tormenting escape.

In the courtyard, where the echoes of laughter resound, Aemond finds himself frozen in place, the air heavy with Luke's presence. The wind carries whispers that seem to be the soft murmur of Luke's voice, leaving Aemond questioning his sanity. He can almost feel Luke's hand on his shoulder, a touch that sends shivers down his spine and leaves him grasping at the emptiness.

During war strategy sessions, Aemond's mind plays cruel tricks on him. As he pores over maps of wargrounds and fortified keeps, Luke's reflection materializes beside him, scrutinizing terrains with an otherworldly knowledge. Aemond's fingers tremble as he traces the borders, half-expecting Luke to offer his uninvited and foolish insights, but the silence remains.

In the Great Hall, where feasts were once lively celebrations, Aemond finds himself unable to escape the ghostly presence. The sound of revelry - that Aegon insists upon as they celebrate Luke’s death - becomes a haunting cacophony, and he can almost hear Luke's laughter intermingling with the echoes of those who celebrate his demise. Aemond often finds himself raising his goblet in a futile toast, the wine swirling like a macabre dance, mirroring the torment within him.

Even in the solace of nature, where one would hope to find peace, Aemond can't escape the ghostly reminders. Trees cast shadows that resemble Luke's silhouette as Aemond and Vhagar fly overhead, and the chilly air seems to whisper secrets that he strains to understand.

As he closes the book, a phantom chill creeps into the room. A sense of unease claws at him as he tries to erase the recollections from mind, as though doing so would remove the occurrences altogether. The chilly night air outside intensifies, causing the candle flame to dance wildly before it sputters and extinguishes with a subtle hiss. Aemond dismisses the notion, attributing it to a mere draft, and turns away from the now darkened candle.

As he turns, his reflection in the ornate mirror catches his eye, but instead of his own weary countenance, the mirror unveils the ghostly image of Luke. Aemond's breath catches in his throat as he stares into the haunted eyes of his nephew. The dim light casts an eerie glow on his ethereal almost-figure, and the air in the library seems charged with an otherworldly energy. The weight of guilt and the eerie manifestations converged, leaving Aemond paralyzed in the haunting stillness of the library, caught between the realms of the living and the departed.

"This did not have to happen, uncle," Luke's voice carries a weight of unspoken sorrow, each word etched with the regret of an untimely departure. The ghostly echoes linger in the air, weaving through the ancient shelves of books that stand as silent witnesses to this mad exchange.

Aemond - his breath catching in his throat - struggles to find the right response. The weight of guilt presses upon him as he gazes into Luke, dazed. The regret, palpable and suffocating, threatens to consume him. Luke lingers, a reminder of all his irreversible choices. Caught in the grip of the moment, Aemond feels a lump forming in his throat. "I never wanted it to end this way," he whispers, his voice tinged with regret that he would never have admitted to feeling if he hadn't had to voice it out loud.

"You made a terrible mistake," Luke's voice echoes, the accusatory tone cutting through the oppressive silence of the library.

Aemond's eye meets the hollow gaze of his nephew. "I am aware, and I am burdened by it… by you." He confesses, the weight of guilt hanging heavily upon him. Memories of happier days in his marriage pass his mind, and he is once again left with the gnawing pain of not knowing if she will ever seek him out again. Is he going to be made to live with this chasm between them forever? How could she live without him?

And immediately, as thoughts of his sweet wife cross his mind, the image of Luke transforms into when he was much younger, his curls a lot more prominent and his face a bit more round. He says the words again, the same words that Aemond had heard him say about his marriage - and it is all he can do to not fall apart. "She's my twin. She is mine. Her place is by my side, and nobody else's!" Luke's words resonated in the stillness, each repetition intensifying the haunting atmosphere.

The air crackles with unresolved tension as the words loop, a haunting refrain that refuses to fade. Each spoken phrase intertwines with the musty scent of ancient books, filling the room with a lingering sense of melancholy. As the words pass through the room, the library stands witness to the unfolding chaos. Dust motes, disturbed by the weight of the conversation, hang suspended in the air like transient memories. The ambient firelight, filtered through the stained glass windows, casts a surreal glow on the troubled face of a man who desperately tries to escape the consequences of his actions. The words create ripples in the stillness of the library, a transient disturbance.

His fists clench, and with a roar of frustration, he lashes out at the mirror. The impact shatters the haunting reflection, the fractured pieces falling like a cascade of broken memories. Aemond, panting and wild-eyed, stares at the shattered remnants of the mirror as drops of his blood stain them all an angry, bloody red.

ON A DARK, EERIE MORNING, Aemond decides he will seek refuge in combat training with Cole. The rhythmic clash of steel on steel promises a momentary escape from the haunting of his tormented mind. In these fleeting moments, he clings to the hope that the precision demanded by the dance of death will anchor his thoughts, keeping them disciplined and resolute.

But the training ground transforms, and the air shimmers with the echoes of unsheathed swords. In the midst of training, Luke materializes. The world blurs as Aemond's gaze locks onto his nephew's phantom form, the arrogance etched upon his face mirroring the smirk that haunts him. A tempest of confusion descends, and in the blink of an eye, he lunges forward, sword clashing against an illusion.

Reality slips away, and he finds himself ensnared in a mirage - a realm where the dead dance with the living, taunting them with all they have left. In the throbbing aftermath, the truth bears down on him like a relentless storm.

He killed him. The admission echoes in the hollow chambers of his conscience, overtaking him completely. The clash of blades morphs into a funeral dirge, and as he stands amidst the lingering consequences of his actions, the training ground transforms into a graveyard of memories. The air hangs heavy with the scent of remorse, and the phantom of Luke lingers, a silent witness to the torment that now possesses Aemond.

How he wills for his nephew to leave him alone. How he wishes he could turn back time, to a day when his wife was happy with him, when he was not the object of repulsion in her eyes. How he wishes she would welcome him with open arms again...

But why would she, uncle? Why would she, when you have slain her twin and taken me away from her? Her true other half?

He swings his sword once more, the blade cutting through the air with a desperate force. Each slash is a fervent plea, hoping that the slashes would tear up the ghost of his bastard nephew to ribbons that fly away with the wind. Even in death, his nephew is a stain on his life that refuses to let him live in peace. First his eye, now his wife.

Her place is by my side, uncle. And by killing me, you only reminded her of that.

The echoes of Luke's haunting words reverberate through the empty training ground, as Aemond battles not only the illusions before him but also the relentless demons within. The weight of his actions, the echoes of his nephew's voice, and the damning truth merge into a haunting symphony that accompanies each swing of his sword, forming an enemy much more dangerous than the Blacks that he’d sworn to kill.

The air is thick with the acrid scent of remorse. Aemond's movements become more desperate, as if trying to carve out a safe haven from the phantoms that encircle him. The blade slices through him, yet Luke's voice persists, an unyielding reminder of the havoc wrought upon not just his life but everyone’s around him.

Amidst his violent dance with illusions, Aemond longs for the solace that has eluded him since that fateful day at Storm's End. His sword becomes an extension of his anguish, a vessel through which he hopes to banish the nightmares that torment his every waking moment. The words resonate, mocking his attempts to escape the repercussions of his actions.

Aemond's grip tightens on the hilt of the sword, the struggle etched across his face as he battles the intangible. The illusion persists, refusing to be vanquished, a testament to the indomitable force of guilt and regret.

He lowers his sword and the ghostly echoes of Luke's voice linger. The training ground falls silent, a wave of unresolved grief as Aemond grapples with the realization that, even in death, his nephew remains an inescapable presence in the twisted tapestry of his existence.

Luke smiles once more, and Aemond slams the tip of his sword into the gravel, watching it fall to the side as he screams. Luke’s reflection is a sharp image on his blade, but when he looks up, the ground is empty, save for a worried mentor that watches him from the side. What must he do to gain solitude again?

The air in the training ground seems to thicken further as Aemond walks away to put his sword aside. The haunting memories of his past misdeeds cling to him like a shroud, and the distant echoes of Luke's words continue to reverberate in his mind. The once-familiar grounds feel like a journey through a desolate and forsaken landscape as he somehow registers the distant sounds of Cole calling out his name in worry.

As Aemond picks up the sheath, he senses an eerie silence enveloping the surroundings. The wind carries whispers of his regrets, and the atmosphere is charged with an unsettling energy. He looks up to see his wife standing at one of the windows, her gaze fixed on a seemingly endless point beyond the horizon. The pain of a fractured marriage weighs heavily on his shoulders, and his arrogance, once a shield, now crumbles under the weight of remorse.

Their eyes meet, and for a moment, time seems to stand still. He reads the emptiness in her eyes, an emptiness that reflects the void he has created between them. Aemond's heart sinks, realizing that his mistakes have irreparably damaged the bond he once took for granted. The echo of Luke's haunting voice intertwines with the desolation that surrounds him.

She is his, but he does not want to have her like this; unwilling. Unable to withstand the haunting gaze, Aemond turns away. The clang of metal against metal resonates in the air as he sheathed his sword. The once-sharp blade now feels heavy, burdened with the weight of his own sins.

Before he leaves, compelled by an unseen force, Aemond looks up at the tower once more. But this time, it is not his wife who meets his gaze. Instead, the window frames the ghostly figure of Luke, staring back with fear etched on his face. Before he can further contemplate the vision, she is right there again, looking away. With the many sightings of Luke that he is subjected to, Aemond is not fazed anymore. But he is once more reminded of how similar his nephew and wife look in fear. He does not like seeing her this way.

A shiver courses down Aemond's spine as his gaze meets the ghostly visage of his nephew. Before he can avert his eyes, the apparition transforms into his wife, each manifestation carrying an accusing, sorrowful, and frightened expression. The visions alternate with unsettling speed, a haunting dance where Luke and his wife exchange places in the blink of an eye.

Aemond is unnerved by the rapidity with which the pair appears almost indistinguishable, their features blending into an eerie resemblance that sends chills through his soul. The accusatory eyes of Luke and the sorrowful gaze of his wife interchange with a disorienting fluidity, leaving Aemond trapped in a whirlwind of regret, fear, and a gnawing sense of the uncanny.

He walks away, steps definitive and terror-struck as he steps into the tower. The silence is deafening, broken only by the echoes of regrets and the distant wind. Aemond, haunted by the consequences of his actions, contemplates the surreal encounter. The armor-laden grounds, once a place of training, now serve as the stage for the haunting manifestations of his past. The ghost of Luke remains and so does his remembrance of a happier wife - who, for reasons he cannot fathom, reminds him of his biggest mistake. A constant reminder that redemption may be forever out of reach.

THE WORD HOLDS TOO MUCH EMOTION than he can bear to pour into his voice, but he says it all the same.

“Wife.”

As Aemond approaches her, he takes in the sight of her, a weak vision of House Strong's distinct features marked by dark hair and blue eyes. The vibrant happiness that once defined her has been replaced by weariness, one that seems to have settled into the very core of her being.

Her brown hair, once a shiny cascade, now hangs in loose tendrils, lacking the luster it once possessed. The dim light highlights her fatigue, revealing the toll that the sorrow of losing her brother has taken on her. The lines etched upon her face speak of countless nights spent wrestling nightmares and the strain of unanswered questions. Her eyes, once bright and expressive, now carry a perpetual sadness and seem to bear the weight of all her losses.

Does she grieve for them too? For their marriage? For him and all the time they’ve lost?

As Aemond gathers the courage to approach, he can't help but feel a pang of regret for the role he played in casting this shadow over the woman he once knew and still loves. The air around her seems heavy with declarations unmade, the room echoing with the quiet desperation of a fractured connection that he is grasping at to mend. Aemond, yearning for reconciliation, steels himself to bridge the gap that has grown between them, hoping to heal not just their relationship, but her as well.

She turns to look at him, the faint moonlight from the window hitting her face as she assesses the man that stands before her. Not her husband, no - Aemond knows how she looked at him when she loved him. Now she simply stares through him, understanding that it’s her brother’s killer that she is facing. He doesn’t know what hurts him more - her grief, or her cluelessness.

She doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t walk away either, empowering him to take a few steps further. He reaches out to her and takes her hand, and smiles by the corner of his lips when she doesn’t grab her hand back.

“Are you… well?”

The idiocy of the question while he sees how tired she is does not escape him, but in all honesty, she has him tongue-tied. Aemond has missed her touch, and simply getting to hold her hand again has set a fire ablaze in him that he cannot seem to quell.

“As well as one can be, considering the circumstances.”

Time stands still as he takes in the sound of her voice, hoarse from not having said much in a long while. His mother tries with her, but even the Queen can’t make his grief-stricken wife budge - she would stay until she couldn’t, leaving his wife to her thoughts. What could she say to make things better anyhow? I’m sorry my son killed your brother? I’m sorry you’re caught in a war that is not of your making? I’m sorry you cannot look at your husband with anything but disdain?

He is rendered well and truly silent as he tries to measure her feelings, but she beats him to it as she speaks again - addressing the elephant in the room as quickly as she is able. “Are you here to apologize for murdering my brother?”

“It was an accident.”

He knows he shouldn’t be arguing, but what was he to do? He’d let the world speak cruelly of him and brand him a kinslayer, but he cannot have his own wife hate him so. His defense of his actions only seem to spur her further as she pushes her free hand into his chest, and he holds onto her hand tighter, unwilling to let her go like she wants to.

“Don’t demean yourself by justifying your venom, Aemond. You have hated Luke your entire life, and I’d rather you not make years of hatred seem like nothing in your pursuit to make a better name for yourself with me now. You’re well past that, valzȳrys.” She spits out the last word, making him feel hurt and horrendously out of place. husband

“You don’t believe me.”

“You killed him!”

She sobs, her tears making it very clear that he is a lot less in her eyes now than he used to be. He fights the urge to scream, to hold her by the shoulders and shake sense into her. He wants to remind her that he is not what she thinks him to be, and that he genuinely would never do anything to hurt her. But he has. And he is now facing the consequences of weighing the choices and choosing wrong. How he wishes he’d simply let Luke leave - Aemond had won, why didn’t he?

Her sobs echo in the strained silence, the air thick with the weight of unspoken grievances. In a moment of raw vulnerability, she hits him square on his chest - each strike of her closed fists carrying the weight of accumulated sorrow, an outward manifestation of the tumultuous emotions that have festered within. Aemond, initially taken aback, winces.

Yet, even as the blows intensify, Aemond doesn't recoil. Instead, he envelops her in a desperate embrace, a gesture born not out of defiance but of a shared longing for understanding. The chamber becomes a battleground of emotions, the struggle to make sense of their fractured marriage playing out in light of all that has taken place.

“I want to hate you so much.” She says, the words choked out as her voice comes out muffled. Her lips are branded onto his chest as she mouths the words over the leathers he wears. “I want to. You’re a monster, that's all I see. I hate you so much.”

He pretends to not hear any of the damning words, for fear of hurting her in the anger that they rouse in him. She looks up at him, and all he wants is to crush her in his hold as he feels the anger creep up on him. But what she says next knocks the wind out of him, reminding him of why he has taken the trouble to come here to try and repair their marriage.

“But I love you all the same, and I don’t know if I hate you or the love I hold more.”

It is all the confirmation he needs. She is not out of reach just yet. Aemond, grappling with the weight of her words, feels a heavy tension in the air as her lips remain pressed against his chest, the muffled admissions still hanging in the space between them.

As she lifts her head, her eyes, red and swollen, meet his. Aemond sees the internal conflict etched into the lines of her face, torn between the desire to loathe him and the persistent, undeniable love that refuses to be extinguished. He remains silent, understanding the gravity of her admission, aware that any response from him could tip the fragile balance they are trying to restore.

In a moment suspended between resentment and longing, she tentatively reaches up to touch his face, her fingertips tracing the contours of his jaw. Aemond, still holding back the urge to speak, feels the warmth of her touch, a gesture that speaks volumes. Then, as if guided by an invisible force, their lips meet in a hesitant, exploratory kiss. It is not a fiery embrace born out of passion; rather, it is a delicate connection, an attempt to bridge the emotional distance that has grown between them.

And then Luke surfaces, yet again.

He holds her tighter and kisses her deep, his tongue begging for entrance as he fights the ghost of Luke, staring right at him as he tries to make his wife forgive him. With every movement of their joined lips, he refutes his dead nephew’s words. He is hers, and she is his. From this day, till the end of their days.

Not Luke’s. His.

“Mine,” he mumbles in between kisses. Over and over until the blasted bastard’s spirit hears and lets him live. But why should he, when Aemond did not offer him the same courtesy? “You’re mine. No one else’s.”

“What?” He doesn’t answer her murmured question, not quite ready to make her privy to the haunting of his mind by her twin. He does not want to let him ruin this moment for them, not any more than he already has. His hands involuntarily find her skirts, pushing them up as he lowers his lips to kiss her neck.

The skin of her thighs are as soft as he’d remembered, his hands relishing in the touch as it disappears under her dress. She clings to him, a slight whine escaping her lips as his fingertips graze her skin, holding onto her backside as he lifts her up effortlessly, feet carrying them both and pushing her into the nearest wall. The kiss is never ending, and he’d not have it any other way.He presses into her, his hands holding her by the hip so tight that he’s probably bruising her, but he is too far gone to care. He needs to prove his nephew wrong, and with each moment he believes he is closer to vanquishing the ghost of the Strong pup from his consciousness.

“Take me,” she says. He hears her, but he is not quite sure he is listening. However, he does as she says. He has wanted this for long, having missed her touch for long, having missed her wanting him for long. He has wanted this for too long to do anything otherwise, and so he does. He growls as he bites her neck, while she unlaces his breeches and lets his cock spring free. The weeping tip is erect and stands proud, and he hopes she can see what she could have had in the time that she pushed him away. No matter, she’s here now.

He is taken aback by how tight she is, how warm and inviting she is despite it all. Her wetness engulfs him as he thrusts into her, making up for wasted time. With each thrust and with each moan that she lets out, he hopes and prays that their marriage will endure - but the phantom of his nephew is never ending as he refuses to fade. Aemond claims her as is his right, but as he does, he realizes his true goal is to simply remind the ghost in his head that she is his, and no one else’s.

“Mine.”

She leans into him, meeting his forehead with hers as her hair falls around them. Her panting breaths and heaving chest has him in a tight chokehold, and it almost keeps him from being haunted by her twin. Almost.

She peaks with a shuddering moan, and as she falls into him - limp and willing - he chases his pleasure. He brings her down to stand and mindlessly thrusts into her as he chants mine, mine, mine over and over again and when he does spill in her, he wants to be able to only experience pleasure, and nothing else.

Surely his mind is playing tricks on him, or Luke has simply taken over Aemond in a capacity far beyond his control - for he is certain he sees him in her eyes for just a moment, taunting him and reveling in his misery.

The memory hits him like whiplash, and it is all he can think of.

Aemond’s hands encircle her delicate throat, pressing her frail form against the unforgiving stone wall, as though he intends to merge her essence with its cold surface. The echoes of her labored panting reverberate in the air, a desperate struggle for breath, while he, consumed by an unrelenting force, cannot cease his actions.

Her blue eyes roll back in agony, and the veins on her neck stand out more prominently than usual, appearing blue in certain lights and green in others - details he might have discerned if not blinded by rage and madness.

He sees clearly, he always does. But in this moment, the intensity of his anger clouds his judgment, rendering him as blind as he is perceptive in moments of calm. Her pallor intensifies, and her hands futilely attempt to pry his fingers from her skin, seeking reprieve - he wants to let go, but he cannot. How could he?

His nephew has haunted him for years, much like the famed phantom of Harrenhal. Luke may have only been nine years of age when he took Aemond’s eye, but it has wielded a malevolent influence throughout his journey from boyhood to manhood. It has been the root cause for a lot of what he’s done - right from marrying her, to now killing her so she can join her brother wherever he is.

He needs to banish the haunting memory of his nephew from his tormented consciousness. He wants so badly for the words to stop playing in his head, weaving a harsh thread of thoughts that he cannot seem to find his way out of. Her life hangs by a thread, one that he stretches taut until she snaps.

As much as he resents acknowledging it, perhaps Lucerys was right. He isn't killing her; he is merely guiding her to where she belongs, by his side. “Aemond…” Her plea is feeble, choked, and nearly devoid of a voice. “Husband, please…” He hears his sweet wife’s last words, but he refuses to listen.

As the light in her eyes slowly dims, he watches as she struggles to keep her eyes open. Her hold on his choking hand loosens and loses its fight, and she gives in. It is almost as though they are back to how they were, in the days when they were happier, and his hands had been around her neck in much more sensual moments - always just enough, never as tight and deadly as this.

She looks almost peaceful in this state, in the last moments where she’s accepted that she has outrun her course. He cannot have her this way, does not want her this way - where she fears him and what he has truly become; where every moment that she looks at him with mixed emotions, he is reminded of his nephew and the day he died.

Cursed bastard.

Her once kind smiles, the very essence that once distinguished her from her twin, have undergone a haunting transformation. Her face has since been etched with an unspoken terror, a fear that clings to her like a shroud of impending doom. Every glance she casts seems laden with an eerie anticipation, as if she is poised to deliver a fatal blow.

In those harrowing moments, the resemblance between them becomes a grotesque mirror, reflecting a likeness he cannot bear to acknowledge. The weight of her presence - his presence - is suffocating, an unsettling reminder of his own recklessness. He cannot afford the luxury of a wavering mind, not in the midst of a relentless war that demands his unwavering focus.

This connection has become an unbearable burden, stoking a fury within him that knows no bounds. All he craves is the dissolution of his nephew's haunting memory, an obliteration that refuses to comply with the confines of his subconscious. Instead, it lingers, an ominous specter that shadows his every waking moment, intensifying the horrors that plague him day and night.

And then, her breathing ceases.

The chilling realization of what he’s done crashes over him like a wave, dragging him into the abyss of his own making. The haunting echoes of his nephew's voice, the relentless specter that had tormented his every waking moment ever since the fateful day at Storm’s End, had finally ceased. However, the newfound silence is shattered by the ghastly thud of her lifeless form crumpling to the floor, unleashing an eerie force that wraps its tendrils around his soul.

She seems liberated from the oppressive shackles of fear and her lifeless face descends into an eerie calm that chills the marrow of his bones. In death, she appears more tranquil than any moment he witnessed in life since her twin’s passing. The grotesque disparity between her and Lucerys’ final moments sends a shiver down his spine, the air thick with the stench of regret and the palpable weight of his transgressions.

With a trembling hand, he reaches out to touch her slowly chilling forehead, pressing a sorrowful kiss upon it. The chamber becomes suffocating, the air thickening with an oppressive calm that clings to the shadows. In that macabre stillness, a chilling certainty takes hold — Lucerys will no longer haunt him, but the cost is etched in the lines of his lovely wife’s lifeless face.

As the reality of his irreversible choice seeps into his bones, a haunting question claws at the edges of his conscience: Was the liberation from the phantom of his nephew's influence worth the mad ending of his wife's life? The Seven bear witness to another one of his kinslaying crimes and the heavy silence that follows - a testament to the darkness that now envelopes his soul, as the shadows of the hearth themselves seem to recoil from the stench of blood that stains the very fabric of the air.

Now the twins are together in death, by each other’s side.

Aemond is free.

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