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froggibus · 1 year

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The Three Times You Share A Bed - Leon S Kennedy

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x reader

Genre: fluff, some light angst thrown in towards the end?

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: two times you sleep in leon's bed, and the one time he sleeps in yours

CW: roommate! Leon, kinda friends to lovers?, light angst, abandonment issues, paranoia, fear + insomnia, mentions of zombies, bedsharing, leon has intimacy issues (get therapy challenge)

OMG HAPPY RE4 RELEASE!!! I am SO excited to play once im done work this weekend! Leon looks so damn fine in the gameplay ive seen and i am going FERAL! pls no spoilers for anything new in the game! <3

RE4 remake spoiler free zone!! I have yet to play the remake so there are no spoilers in this!

————

The telltale clicking of a key in the door has you on your feet in seconds, abandoning the plush throw blanket on the couch. Before it even opens, you’re standing on the doormat. You feel a little silly, like a golden retriever waiting for its owner, but the shame is washed away when Leon steps through the door.

It’s been three weeks since you’ve last seen your roommate and best friend, and just as long since you last had company. He raises an eyebrow at the sight of you standing in front of him, the dark circles under his eyes becoming more prominent.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” He sighs and drops his backpack on the floor, locking the door behind him.

“How was it?”

You fight the urge to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and inhale his scent, knowing that’s not what friends do. Still, the feeling is there and if he went in for it, you’d reciprocate in a heartbeat.

He opens the fridge and beams at the fully stocked drinks and snacks. He cracks open a can of cider and leans against the counter. “Long,” he admits, “way too long. And my nose is still burning from the smell of rotten flesh.” You crinkle your nose at the thought. Leon’s never been much of a talker and most of his work being classified didn’t help. Whenever something wasn’t top secret, though, you were sure to sit there and listen no matter how horrific the details were.

You settle in on the couch next to the agent, listening to him drone on about a zombie-like creature that had peeling flesh and fifty eyes. You could vividly picture it from his words alone, and the image of the creature sent a shiver up your spine.

Leon talks for hours, spilling every miniscule detail of every horror he encounters. You stay the whole time, nodding along. Leon laughs at the way you scrunch your face in disgust or close your eyes in fear. He hates how cute you are, but he can’t seem to stop telling you stories. After many hours and a few drinks between the two of you, he’s almost run out of stories to tell.

Leon pats your shoulder gently, collecting his cans from where he’d set them on the coffee table. “I need a shower,” he states. “I’ll see you tomorrow, y/n.”

“Go shower. You stink,” you joke and punch him in the ribs.

He feigns injury at your blow, pretending to suck in a breath like you’d really hurt him. He keeps up the facade the whole way to his bedroom, only leaving character when he shuts the door behind him.

It’s only when he’s disappeared that you realize how late it's gotten—and how dark. Even though your shared apartment is on the 19th floor, you can’t help but worry something is going to crawl through your window. You shake the thoughts away and get ready for bed, but every gust of wind and rustling of leaves makes you flinch.

You close your eyes and tug your comforter over your head, hoping that if there is something out there, it won’t know you’re there. You toss and turn for a while longer, staying dead quiet and pushing your fears away.

Finally, you can’t take it anymore. You take a deep breath, throw your comforter off of your shoulders, and sprint to Leon’s room. It’s like your brain is on autopilot—it knows exactly where to go to be safe.

You don’t knock on the door, instead quietly twisting the knob and slipping in through a crack in the door. Leon sits up as soon as your feet touch the wooden floor, eyes snapping towards your silhouette. He’s been a light sleeper ever since Racoon City, waking at the slightest of sounds.

He relaxes at the sight of you but only for a second. He glances at his digital clock, eyes widening at the time. “Y/n? What are you still doing up?”

“I-I couldn’t sleep…I feel like a flesh eating zombie is going to climb through my window and eat me.”

He chuckles. “That would be my fault.” He shuffles over in bed and pulls back the comforter. “You’re more than welcome to stay here for the night.”

You crawl into bed next to him, keeping as much distance between the two of you as possible. You can feel his body heat radiating through the blankets and smell his body wash on his skin. The feeling is new, yet so familiar it eases you instantly.

“Leon?”

He hums in response.

“Is it safer to sleep next to the window or the door? From like, a secret agent standpoint.”

“We’re on the 19th floor so window, but unless it's a hotel room, the door. You would more than likely hear it if they broke down the front door so you’d have more time to get out.”

You think for a second. “Can we switch places?”

“Honestly, y/n,” he laughs dryly, “the safest place to sleep right now is next to me.”

Your face warms at that and you nod, relaxing into his pillows. While you drift off to sleep, Leon watches over you. He knows nothing is going to come for you here, but he did promise to keep you safe, and he’ll keep that promise no matter what.

—

When you get home, you’re in a foul mood. You practically throw the groceries onto the counter before walking to your room and throwing yourself onto your bed. It’s been a long day. All of the stores were so busy you could hardly get through the aisles, and all of the people you encountered were rude.

Leon comes out of his room a few minutes later. Seeing the groceries abandoned on the counter, his first thought is to check on you. He doesn’t check on you, though. Not yet, anyway. He knows you’ll just be more upset if the frozen items melt and the milk sits out all night, so he sets out on putting them away.

After almost an hour of laying in your bed trying to recuperate after the day you’ve had, you’re snapped out of it by a text.

Leon: Come here, I have a surprise for you

You don’t feel like leaving your bed, but you force yourself out of it anyway. It’s not Leon you’re mad at. Leon is probably the only person in the world you don’t hate right now. You knock on his door softly, holding your arms behind your back.

“Come in!” He shouts.

You open the door, shuffling into his room and closing it behind you. Your jaw drops when you see a tray in the middle of his bed piled high with your favorite snacks, drinks and two wine glasses. Leon pats the spot next to him and you’re happy to oblige, relaxing onto the mattress.

“You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

He shrugs, pouring you a glass of wine. “It already seems like you had a bad day, I just wanted to do something to make it a little better for you.”

“Thank you.” He nods in acknowledgement, turning on his tv and handing you the remote. “You can choose the first movie. Just—maybe no zombies?”

You snort at that. Classic Leon, using his corny jokes to make light of even the worst of situations. You settle on an old favorite movie you love, handing the remote back to the blond and switching it for a wine glass.

Between your favorite movie, the delicious wine and your favorite snacks, your spirits are lifted in no time. One movie turns into two, and two turns into three. Soon enough, you’re dozing off in Leon’s bed.

He moves the tray of snacks and the glasses off of the bed to give you more room to sprawl out. Laying down next to you, he watches you sleep. A part of him wishes he could see this every night—the same sight he fantasizes about on even the hardest of missions.

He flicks off the lamp on his side table and settles in. “Good night, cutie,” he mumbles, knowing you’re far too deep in sleep to hear him.

—

You wake up in the middle of the night, moonlight streaming through the window and illuminating Leon’s bedroom. You’re still numb from sleep, your senses dulled just enough that it takes you a minute to realize that something is grabbing you. No, not grabbing—holding.

You blink a few times. Leon is laying next to you, his chest pressed to your back, his arms around your waist. You can feel the slow beating of his heart and the heat coming off of his skin. He’s so close it overwhelms you, yet it’s all you’ve ever wanted.

You think about slipping away but you know what a light sleeper he is, and you don’t think you could handle it if he woke up and saw how close you were. You close your eyes and try to calm the beating in your heart so you can fall back asleep.

When you wake up again, Leon is gone. Your body feels cold where his once was. You sit up—is he showering? He can’t be, the bathroom door is open. You sit up, letting the blankets fall off of you. You swing your legs over the side of his bed, walking out to the kitchen, but he’s not there either.

Did he leave to go get something?

You check your phone, expecting to see a text saying he ran out to go get more milk or something, but there’s nothing. You sigh, typing up a message and sending it to him.

Y/N: where’d you go?

You practically jump when your phone lets out a noise, but your heart sinks when you see what it is.

Message Not Delivered. Try Again?

You sigh. That can only mean one thing: he’s on another mission. Typical Leon, disappearing in the middle of the night to go god knows where for god knows how long. The frustration bubbles up in your chest and you feel like hitting something, but you don’t. It’s not worth it.

You try to keep your mind off of his sudden disappearance by throwing yourself into chores. You wash his bedding and make his bed, then wash your own. You sweep and mop the floors and vacuum the carpets. You dust the blinds.

It doesn’t help.

Your mind keeps wandering back to the fact that he left without saying goodbye. That he woke up at some ungodly hour, saw you laying in his arms, got up and left without another word. He didn’t even leave a note. He really cares that little.

You shake your head and even though the pit in your stomach makes you feel like not eating, you make yourself a sandwich regardless. Seeing the untouched groceries in the fridge just adds to the feeling.

Even though you know he’s not going to get it, you pull out your phone and start typing.

Y/N: do you at least know when you’ll be back?

Message Not Delivered. Try Again?

The message makes you roll your eyes. Leon fucking Kennedy.

—

A week goes by, and then two, and you still hear nothing from your roommate. You send texts here and there, hoping for an answer, but none of them go through. Eventually, you start venting to him through there, too. Expressing how frustrated you are that he didn’t say goodbye, how annoying your feelings are, how sometimes you wish you didn’t know him so you didn’t have to go through this.

It’s a random Sunday night when you’re sitting on the couch, watching trash reality tv and eating snacks. It’s cold in the apartment, but you can’t be bothered to turn on the heat. Only when your arms puff up with goosebumps do you scour the room for a sweater, settling on a random one hanging on the back of a chair.

It’s Leon’s, an old one from the Police Academy. His smell floods your nose when you pull it over your head, and it's so bittersweet you don’t know if you should laugh or cry. You settle back on the couch, but a rustling at the window makes you freeze in your tracks.

It stops for a moment, and you can almost convince yourself you’ve imagined it or it’s a part of the show—until it happens again. You scramble for the remote, pausing it so you can hear better. The noise starts again, and you waste no time in hightailing it to your bedroom and slamming the door behind you.

You flop onto your bed, trying (and failing) to remind yourself that it’s just the wind. That you’re safe here. But it’s hard when it’s late and you’re tired and you’re alone and the only person you feel safe with just abandoned you.

You curl up into a ball, pulling Leon’s sweater over your mouth and inhaling the familiar scent. It’s enough to calm you down, if only for a few moments. If you close your eyes, you can almost trick yourself into thinking he’s there, and for now, that’s good enough.

—

Leon knows he fucked up when he gets back to the country and turns on his phone. Almost fifty messages from you, each one more sad than the last. He wants to slap himself—why couldn’t he just grow a pair and say goodbye? Why did he have to be so noncommittal?

He reads every message on the cab ride back to the apartment, and his heart breaks for you. He didn’t think about how you would drive yourself crazy over him or how worried you must have been. All he thought about was getting the call for the mission in the middle of the night and not wanting to wake you up.

But he didn’t abandon you. He thought about you every day and god—he wishes he could have talked to you. Hearing your voice and seeing your face was enough to make everything better. With the horrors he’s seen lately, all he wants is to be back in that bed with you for one more night.

He’s quiet coming into the apartment, hoping he doesn’t wake you up or scare you. And even though he knows you’re sleeping, he’s still disappointed you’re not waiting at the door for him.

He tosses his backpack into his room and strips off all of his holsters and velcro. He’s quiet walking down the hallway to your room and even quieter opening the door. He relaxes at the sight of you curled up in a ball.

You look so cute and so peaceful and—is that his sweater? The sight brings a smile to his face. He closes the door behind him with a soft click, climbing into the bed next to you.

You wake up when the bed dips down and arms wrap around you. You’re so tired you don’t even care who or what it is.

“If you’re gonna kill me, can you at least let me sleep first?” You mumble.

You fully awake as soon as you hear Leon’s laugh.

“You’re back?” You say, and you hate the way your voice cracks.

You turn around to face him, tired ocean eyes meeting yours. He nods sleepily, “‘m sorry I didn’t say goodbye. It was stupid of me.”

“It’s okay,” and it really is okay. All the resentment you felt melted away at the sight of him.

“C’mere,” he mumbles.

You lay your head on his chest, wrapping your arms around him. You can hear his heart rate slow down at the contact.

“I just—I just need you tonight.” Those are big words coming from the agent, and they leave you completely stunned. He must have seen or done something horrible while he was away for him to be this vulnerable, even with you.

“You can have me tonight.” You try to keep your voice even, “you can have me whenever you need me,”

He kisses the top of your head. “But I always need you.”

“Then I’m always yours.”

Neither of you speak after that, Leon falling into a light sleep. You stay up a while longer, watching the blond boy rest beneath you. He looks so fragile like this, you can’t imagine him fighting off monsters and handling weapons. You kiss his collarbone through his shirt and let yourself fall asleep with him.

#resident evil angst #resident evil fluff #resident evil #re4 leon #resident evil 4 #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #x you #x reader

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em-writes-stuff-sometimes · 2 months

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jorrāeliarzus (beloved) │ Chapter 1: Affliction

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 (In Progress!)

Synopsis: Daemon guides you on a journey of healing and self-discovery as you learn to raise your children and build a family of your own. You struggle.

Hello! Welcome back, all! This instalment is going to be a journey for Reader. A bunch of bad shit has happened in her life. It's about time she begins facing all that, you know? Not all of it will be heavy, but there will be some psychological fuckery and an opportunity to delve into the layers of the relationship I've spent time developing. My intention is to have this function similar to little slut, in that it's a series of one-shots set chronologically. Each will be a self-contained 'highlight' that is set during the six years Daemon is exiled on Dragonstone. This instalment will cover babies, healing, pregnancy, relationship development, funny hijinks, dragons and smut! Always smut.

EDIT: I am dumb-dumb and forgot to thank @ewanmitchellcrumbs for beta-ing and giving this her necessary stamp of approval and being the bestest biffle EVA, as well as @spoolofblack for reassuring me that Daemon is NOT too OOC here and cheering me on through the AO3 tagging journey. Thanks be!

Triggers: incest, age gap, purity culture, detailed depictions of post-partum depression, lite smut, lactation and lactation kink.

“Thus was Prince Daemon banished from his brother the King’s city, and with him his niece and newborn heirs. Exile had long favoured the rogue, and this latest decree brought a period of quiet to the isle of Dragonstone, the years giving rise to further progeny to strengthen his House’s line. Together with the Princess Rhaenyra, Daemon and his wife presided over the Targaryen stronghold for several years before circumstances would take them once more to King’s Landing.”

- ‘Fire & Blood: Being a History of the Targaryen Kings of Westeros’ by Archmaester Gyldayn

He is staring again.

You do your best to pay it no mind, though the weight of his eyes upon you is heavy, nonetheless. An onlooker may well assume his focus is on the scene in its entirety—upon the babes propped on pillows before you, their grasping fists skating across dragonscale as they grunt and babble, reptilian rumbles filling the void between sounds—but you know better. Your husband has not been the same since… since that night. You cannot blame him, though it vexes you so.

One of the dragons—the creature with scales of amethyst glittering even in low light—hisses in outrage as Aelys takes hold of his tail, curling around himself with teeth bared as if to warn your daughter of the fate that awaits her. No bite comes. Unbothered, she tries to tug her quarry to her face, and you can only presume the intent is to explore this new surface with gnashing gums.

“Let go, my lovely,” you tell her as your fingers work to free the beast of its skin-and-bone shackles. The babe’s grip is surprisingly firm. “Azorion has done naught to deserve such untoward treatment.”

“Did it not shit in the cradle this morning?” comes Daemon’s idle question from the desk.

When you glance over, you find he has made himself busy once more, appearing for all the world as though he is deep in his papers. You suspect otherwise.

“He is only small,” you say by way of response. Aelys’s face flushes with the threat of tears when her clasp is finally released, so you slip your own digits into hers to placate her. The other dragon, the long-limbed and sun-hued Valnissar, presses its snout against her neck as if to soothe her temper. “He cannot help it.”

Azorion scrabbles back to Rhaenar’s side, huffing indignantly even while burrowing into the boy’s side, leaching his body warmth. Rhaenar’s eyelids begin to droop, the comforting mass of his future mount an unwavering reassurance, while the steadiness of Valnissar’s even breaths along her flesh ease Aelys into a state of calm.

“If it can eat unaided, it can shit in a place that is not where my children sleep.”

The creature seems to rouse at the mention of his earlier mishap; you pat him reassuringly. “He will learn.”

Daemon grunts, summarily ending the conversation.

This is how most of your interactions proceed as of late: a vague, uninterested query, an overly polite response, a terse conclusion, and two evidently discontented persons not quite certain how to bridge the divide that has risen between them. And there is a divide, you are sure of it—why else does the man who is never without a word to spare suddenly bereft of speech in your presence?

The only thing that eases your mind is the knowledge that, for all his recalcitrance, there is no love lost. His hands still linger—on your back, your waist, thoughtless touches that settle hot and heavy and remind you of his solidness. He smiles still, amused by the sing-song lilt of your voice as you coo down at the twins, laughs when they babble back in mimicry of true dialogue. At night, his arms are encompassing, almost too tight, the clutch of one upon that which they fear to lose most. His body speaks the words his lips cannot, laying bare the desperate frustration—the fear, the anger, the worry—that he has carried since the night you had fallen under the spell of old magic, the night you had woken your children’s mounts from their eggshell prisons and called them forth with fire and blood.

Daemon is not the only one who ruminates upon it. You yourself remember it in pieces, flashes of memory that you cannot make whole. The heat of the hearth. A glow, orange, red, yellow. Stinging upon your hands, and the iron tang of blood upon the air. It is as though it occurred to another being—like you had watched rather than been part of it all. There is little wonder that the sight must have made him so uneasy.

You startle when your uncle abruptly stands, rolling his neck to dispel any latent discomfort from remaining in a static position for so long. He falters, appears to decide on something unknown to all but his own mind, then moves toward the rug where you have arranged your babes and their dragons.

Crouching down beside you, his hand reaches forth to cup the round softness of Rhaenar’s head as he murmurs, “I’ll be back later.”

“Before supper?” you ask just as quietly.

He makes a vague noise of assent, smiling absently when Aelys jams her fist in her mouth and babbles to herself, drooling all the while. Valnissar perks up at the sight of his second-favourite person in the world, chittering excitedly as he makes a concerted attempt at climbing up Daemon’s leg. Daemon hisses, extricating the spindly creature’s claws and placing him on his shoulder. Valnissar flaps his wings and promptly tries to weave his way into your uncle’s hair. Your nostrils flare in amusement.

Daemon does not look at you, but you do not mind; you understand the draw of the twins and their young mounts all too well.

“Where are you going?” you ask.

At that, he turns further into you, his gaze finally lifting to find your face. From the corner of your eye, you see the looming shadow that forms whenever he allows his thoughts to consume him. It casts his features into darkness, the heavy set of his brow wrinkling inward as disquietude metamorphoses him. But the tale enacted through his expression is mitigated by the press of his other hand against the small of your back, achingly tender even in its firmness.

“To the Dragonmont.”

You nod. “Ah.”

He will not tell you yet, but you suspect he is looking for answers. The last great repository of Old Valyria is bound to provide at least some insight, though part of you—a large part—is too afraid to seek them yourself. You worry what you will find if you should search through the ancient texts of your people, what they might say of those with the power to hold fire in their hands without fear of burning. It is not something you have ever heard of. If House Targaryen could claim such a feat, it would not be a secret. What does it mean? You know not.

And so, you make no protest when his thumb strokes against Aelys’s cheek in parting, when he unceremoniously drops her dragon to the floor beside her and ignores the protesting squawks to lean in and kiss your cheek, muttering his goodbyes as he rises to leave. You do not turn around, but you know his routine well enough by now.

A clatter by the bed, and Dark Sister is retrieved—scabbard and all—to be fastened at his waist. A scrape, the chair at the desk being pushed back in. A pause. He takes one final look at you all, wife and children and dragons laid about by the hearth in seeming bliss. You feel his stare as it rests on you and you hear the sound of the door opening and closing, footsteps echoing, then fading, fading. The imprint of his lips and his touch remains, an unsettling reminder of all that has been left unspoken.

You dispel such thoughts with a sigh. As worrying as Daemon’s behaviour has become, it is by no means your first priority now that you are a mother.

Looking down at them, you wonder if you will ever get used to the idea, to the fact that these two little beings grew in your belly until they were ready to come into the world, and now they are here and they are yours. ‘Mother’ means the woman through whom your very existence came to be, the name Aemma spoken in hushed whispers and always carrying with it the trace of unending grief. ‘Mother’ means Alicent, the girl-turned-Queen who birthed your brothers and sweet Helaena, who gave you little Daeron to love in place of all you had once been without. ‘Mother’ means Rhaenyra, your staunchly devoted sister who had in part raised you, who even now rears kind, intelligent sons who are more than deserving of the legacy she will one day leave them. You find it entirely strange that a word representing these women—such forces in your life, for good or otherwise—is a word that applies to you.

Motherhood is strange, foreign in a way you do not feel you can overcome by consulting dusty tomes in companionship with Ser Lysan, the manner in which you have familiarised yourself with all foreign things in summers past. This feeling has crept into the crevices of your mind in barely perceptible pulses, slow and unassuming with every new thing you learn about these wonderful, terrifying beings your body created, with every new feat they achieve as they grow and adapt to their environment. At times, when you are alone, you worry you will be no good at it. How can you possibly fare well at such a monumental task without a mother to guide you? What if you make a mistake?

What if your babes—who you know you love more than anything in the world, more than you ever thought anyone could ever feel in their beating hearts, so strong it is almost sickening—come to know of your inadequacy and loathe you for it?

“What seems to be the issue, Princess?”

Gerardys’s hands are folded together before him, his expression as kind and reassuring as always. You wish you truly were reassured, or the too-hot, roiling sensation of your gut might not be quite so pronounced.

There are many responses you could give. The fact that your husband is ill at ease with you for reasons you cannot risk explaining, lest the entire Realm learn through whispers and tales of Valyrian blood magic and some concealed devilry that ought to be put to the sword. That your doubts about how suitable you are as a mother are rising with every second of every hour that you are left to tend your children, feelings that must be wholly unnatural to a woman or otherwise, would you not have heard of such a thing spoken in your many years among the ladies at court? Or perhaps that the woman whom you would prefer to speak to of this matter is in King’s Landing to fetch fresh supplies at this very moment, leaving you no alternative but to be in the maester’s solar instead.

No. None of the answers to his question that come immediately to mind are appropriate here, and nor are they the true reason for your visit. Thus, you brush them aside and take a deep breath.

“I… I have some—concerns.” At his encouraging nod, you add, “About my… supply. For the babes.”

“Ah.” You are glad he seems to have interpreted your hedging correctly; he clears his throat. “I am a physician,” he reminds you, though his tone is by no means judgemental. For all Daemon’s dislike of him, such gentility is why you believe him to be one of the best practitioners in his field, and certainly preferable to Mellos. “While I—understand the indelicacy of the subject matter, I am afraid you are going to need to elaborate, your Highness.”

“Oh. Of course.” You glance away, discomfited. “I… wish to feed the twins myself. By myself. But I”—you gesture weakly to your chest—“my milk has not come in as much as I had hoped it would… by now…”

Rhaenyra has never had this problem, you think. You cannot help it. It was not so long ago that the merest mention of a babe had been enough to wet the fabrics of her gown, never mind that Joff had had the luxury of choice in his supply. Your sister had in fact bemoaned the stubbornness of her body in refusing to dry up—she never let her sons latch for longer than a moon’s turn after each birth, preferring to, as she said, “keep her tits from turning to suckling udders”, long-teated and all. Jealousy is the sin of the vain and impious, but your beating heart thrums with it even so.

Gerardys frowns. “Forgive me—but I was certain that a wet nurse had been requisitioned for them?”

“Yes. But I would—I would prefer to feed them on my own.”

It is not as though you dislike Freda. While she is certainly loud and bawdy and oft far too inappropriate for company, she cares a great deal for Rhaenar and Aelys. You see it in the readiness of her smiles at them, how she cradles them as if they are the most delicate beings in the universe, the way she praises them so effusively for the most base and vulgar of actions—“I’ve never seen a shit so splendid, your Highness, never did I once! A talented little fellow is our little prince, he is!”—but it is not the same. You are their mother, not she. Freda’s presence is not just expected, but required to ensure both your babes have full bellies. It does little to ease your lack of surety.

Though you can tell that Gerardys is perplexed by your insistence, he stares past you thoughtfully, his eyes squinting in his concentration.

“It is not uncommon,” he says slowly, “for a woman with two nursing babes to produce an insufficient volume to accommodate them both. ‘Tis why wet nurses are so popular!”

“I know. I would just… I want to do it.” You wonder if you sound as exposed as you feel. “I am their mother. I should feed them.”

Your words seem to matter not, for the maester is already muttering to himself and rifling through the cabinet by the door, low tones interspersed with the soft clinking of glass vials being shifted about.

“If you insist, Princess,” he says absently, humming under his breath as he balances on tiptoe to reach his higher shelving. After a moment of silence, a noise of muted triumph. “Ah—here it is.”

What he presses into your hands is not an ampoule of some sort, but a plain pouch of hemp and string. The contents within shift about readily, though it prickles when you squeeze too firmly, like dried herbs.

“Thistle tea.” Gerardys watches as you inspect his offering. “Steep for half an hour, strain. Consume plain, no milk or honey. One cup a day, no more or less.”

“How long will it take to work?”

“You ought to begin seeing an increase in production within a sennight. If you can encourage the babes to latch more frequently, you’ll have better results.” At your enquiring look, he elaborates. “The more often the breast is drained, the quicker it refills and thus the more milk you will produce.”

You colour at his use of such a word, not entirely accustomed to speaking so plainly of something so long viewed as unseemly with another man. It is scarcely tolerable even with your ladies. “You have my thanks, Maester Gerardys.”

“Of course, Princess. But remember—do not exceed more than a cup a day!”

You take his advice to heart over the next few days, exhorting the serving staff to ensure you are delivered of a cup brewed to the maester’s specifications each morning. It tastes unremarkable, a leafy bitterness so often customary of herbal tinctures and tonics, though you think you might find it more palatable with the addition of such ingredients as the ones expressly forbidden to you. The very worst of the flavour collects at the bottom of the cup, forcing you to steel yourself to stomach the sharp-tasting dregs and cleanse your palate with fresh water. You bear it silently, praying that you will soon see the benefits promised to you.

But, after a sennight passes, there is no change.

At least, you think there is no change. Rhaenar is not one for fuss and fuddle, and the one time Aelys is not so is in the hours following feeding, her belly full and warm and leading to an easy, calm drowse—but after letting them latch for half an hour, neither babe is sufficiently serene to suggest that the tea has done its duty. Rhaenar kicks and grizzles, mouthing vainly at your nipple as though you are concealing some previously stored contents still within your breast, while Aelys progresses to full, drawn-out wails. Freda watches on, wringing her hands as the twins caterwaul. The front of her dress is stained, sympathetic leakage in response to the veracity of their cries.

Perhaps it is this fact that finally breaks you.

All at once, you no longer feel saddened or confused, concerned or unsure. You are angry. Why should she—a woman who had neither carried nor shared blood with them—get to give your boy and your girl the sustenance so essential to them? What does she possess that you do not? Why have the gods forsaken you? If they have built the womanly form to bear and nurse her children, then you ought to be able to carry out your duty as intended. Not Freda. Why are they taunting you with such a poisonous reminder of your own failure?

“Your Highness—”

“No!” Your rebuke is sharp and swift, punctuated further by what you can only assume is a truly withering glare. “Leave us!”

“But the little pr—”

“I said get out!”

The shrillness of your voice only serves to further upset the babes. They both scream, red-faced and baying, and there is a strange sort of harmony to it that might even sound beautiful were it not so devastating. The noise is such that it sets off the panicked shrieking of Azorion and Valnissar, creating a truly chaotic calamity of sound that makes it terribly hard to think rationally. Or think at all.

You bar the room, refusing to allow Jeyne or Bethany entry. You do not need their aid. It is only morning, your thoughts whirl frenetically. Plenty of time to prove that the wet nurse is not necessary.

All manner of people come to your door as the moments—or maybe minutes, or perhaps hours, you cannot tell—pass, no doubt drawn by the crying and the screeching and your stubborn resistance to letting anyone assist you. Ser Lorent raps on the door, earnest calls of “Your Highness? Is everything well?” readily enough ignored and, when that fails, the kindly queries of the maester beseeching you to let him in “for fear there is something wrong, Princess, please let us help you” also dismissed, or rather more truthfully, not quite heard through the thicket of your growing panic. You do your best to disregard anything outside your chambers, your frantic focus centred wholly on giving Rhaenar and Aelys the care they need from their mother—and their mother alone.

But no matter the hymns you sing or the steadiness of your rocking, no matter how perfect your bouncing walk to soothe them or your murmured exhortations to please, please calm down, they will not be assuaged.

You forget what silence is like. Surely you have never been without the sound of bawling infants? The intensity of it reshapes memory, blocks out any sense of rationality or level-headedness. Your own despair rises the longer the babes sob, their sorrowful scrunched-up faces all but proclaiming aloud that you cannot do this.

Your mind rebels. What was I thinking? They hate me. They hate me. I’ve ruined them. I could not give them milk, and now I cannot even stop their tears. I am a terrible mother. A failure.

Failure.

The hatchling dragons, emblematic of their future riders’ dispositions as is the norm, only serve to intensify the battle between your spirit and your fear. They feel as Rhaenar and Aelys feel, only they have sharp claws and sharp teeth and the mobility fresh out of the egg to express their feelings in a way the twins cannot. You cannot fend off their snapping jaws and high-pitched snarls and tend to the twins at the same time. The situation quickly becomes untenable, though you have not the presence of mind nor good sense to discern this.

“Daor,” you snap as Valnissar nips at your exposed wrist. No.

At this age, the bite stings only a little, drawing a thin well of blood to the surface of your skin. You push the dragon away, doggedly continuing to try and force Aelys’s mouth to your breast. They feel heavier again, a sure sign that there is milk enough to quell the babes’ despondency. If only they would stop crying.

You sit upright on the bed, the curve of one foot pinning Azorion to the mattress below you. He hisses indignantly but makes no attempt to shift, resigned to being trapped for as long as you deem it necessary. Positioned perfectly against the cushion provided for precisely this purpose are your boy and girl, heads perfectly aligned to take to each breast, reclined so that their tiny bodies extend below each of your arms and your hands are free to cup their heads just right. Exactly how Ūlla taught you. So why—why—are they refusing to latch?

“Please,” you find yourself whimpering, the sound lost beneath the piercing howls. At this point, they have both become as distressed as each other, never looking more identical than they do with the same flushed flesh and misery-streaked cheeks, near to seizing with the force of their sobs. You try to bring their mouths to each nipple again, but all they do is cry and cry and cry, faces turning away. “Please, it’s right here. Mama has your milk right here, please please please…”

Valnissar tries to climb over your arm to sit on Aelys. You shrug the beast off, and he tumbles to the bed in a tangle of wings. He screeches, teeth bared, and you can just tell he is about to strike at you again.

You push him away.

“Leave me be!” you say, louder and steadily more overwhelmed, your attention wavering between creature and child. Pressing the babes to your breasts does nothing to persuade them to take from you, but what else can you do? “Please drink. For me? For Mama?”

More wailing. Their fists clench, their forms shuddering.

Useless. It is useless. I am useless.

“Why won’t you have your milk?” you ask, and you think you are calm and measured but really you are starting to sob yourself, a discordant symphony of despair. “Why won’t you just accept it? Please, please, I promise it’s good enough…”

Still, tears. And the dam breaks.

They hate me. They hate me. They hate me. It is like a metronome pulsing through your veins in time with the wrenching heaves of your chest, your lungs trying and failing to force in air. The babes cry, you cry, the dragons clamour, the room feels too full—of sound, of air, of heat—and you are so terribly close to screaming at everything to shut the fuck up because you cannot do this, you cannot do this, why did you ever think you could do—

The passageway at the opposite end of the chamber bursts open. You hear it, but you cannot see through the film of your own tears.

“What the fuck’s going on here?”

Normally, Daemon’s voice—even panicked as he is currently—is enough to reassure you. But it only makes you weep more. Here is your husband, arrived to see how poor a wife he has chosen, how poor a mama you make. Here is Rhaenar and Aelys’s father, arrived to see how enormous your incompetence is, how completely and utterly you have failed to do even the simplest of things. The shame of it is enough to send you spiralling.

You do not remember what follows very clearly.

Fingers fumbling to lace up the ties loosened on your bodice. Hands laid upon the babes, the span of palm large and rough enough to disturb their vocalisations, to ease them to a slightly duller caterwauling. You clutch them tighter to you, unable to even look up to see the owner of those hands, but you are not strong enough to resist the determined reach of those arms to pluck each infant in turn from you. A part of you is relieved. They are passed off with murmurs, man and woman’s voices exchanging in low tones. You vaguely recognise them through the fog of misery. The person before you stands, another taking their place. The steady touch of someone with skin that carries the scent of medicinal herbs feels your forehead, turns your head from side to side, presses clinically at the fullness of your chest. Then, the mattress rises, the weight dissipating, and you are alone.

It takes several long moments to realise that the noise—the babes and the dragons—has stopped entirely. That they are no longer present, no doubt escorted to safety far, far away from you. It ought to be enough to torment you to madness, the final step in this harrowing reprieve from reason, but your tears have fled too. All that is left is bone deep, heavy exhaustion and a full-bodied dispiritedness that makes you sink into the pillows behind you, slide down enough to turn to your side and ignore whoever is talking, shut your eyes and block everything out.

You let the darkness swallow you whole.

Of course he is here when you awake.

You do not know if you really expected otherwise. He has dragged a chair from the table by the balcony next to the bed, and he ought to appear more comfortable—slouched carelessly as he is, leg slung over the other in the assured manner that all men who are confident in their right to take up such space are—but his expression suggests otherwise. Not angry, no, but certainly serious; a pensiveness that comes from prolonged periods of introspection. His eyes seem far away. In fact, his entire self seems far from where he sits, as though his body has travelled back to the Keep but his mind is still in the Dragonmont.

Where he has been for days and days, you think bitterly. Reading thousand-year-old texts instead of being here.

His hands are clasped and resting under his chin, his elbows on the armrests. He seems tired. You regret the ire of your thoughts. It is not as though he has gone out of his way to avoid you, truly. He is here when you need him.

You do not realise he has become aware of your return to consciousness until you hear your name softly spoken.

“Rūhossa zaldrīzessē mazumbillā ilzi. Pōnta biktomy kisittaksi,” is the first thing he says. The babes and dragons are in the nursery. They were fed by the wet nurse.

The silence, previously unnoticed, registers at the same time as your relief. They are safe. They are far away from you. It is likely for the best, even though your breasts feel uncomfortably full.

Daemon shifts from the seat to the bed, staring down at you with an unnameable emotion in his gaze. His movements are relaxed, almost calculated, as one who is wary of spooking an injured animal. You think that if he had failed to glean some sort of response from whomever followed him into the room earlier, he would not be quite so calm.

For a moment, you are half-convinced he is about to reprimand you—until he strokes your jaw, brushes a stray tendril of hair from your face. Your heart skips a beat. His touch is kind.

After an indeterminate period of silence, the question eventually comes.

“Skorion massitas?” What happened? His tone is low, measured.

You sit up, making room for yourself by wiggling back against the pillows. Really, you are stalling. How does one go about explaining that they had taken leave of their senses?

“Ūī ūndetā, gōntō daor?” you ultimately choose to say. You saw, did you not? It sounds dull and lifeless even to your ears. “Se avy qubykto massinoti biktys ivestretos.” And the wet nurse must have told you of earlier events.

His responding look is unimpressed. Normally, you would expect him to have yelled by this point. Whatever it is that he has been told—whatever it is that you must have looked like here, near to yelling at your own infant children and sobbing with your breasts bared to the room and two small dragons buzzing about like particularly persistent insects—it is enough to stay his temper for the time being. Still, you do not believe his patience will hold for long.

You sigh, shuddering out an unsteady breath.

Even though the spell of hysteria has broken, it takes a moment or two to gather yourself. Daemon grasps your arms, erring on the cusp of too-tight to be solely encouraging, but it grounds you enough to attempt to explain what it is he stumbled upon before.

Your jumbled thoughts stream out unorganised, and you are only really half-aware of what exactly it is you convey through hiccuped breaths and shaking shoulders. Failure. Disgrace. Cannot even feed my own children. Useless. Bit by bit, it comes forth, juddered and broken, and you cannot even tell what language you are speaking in, or if you are dipping in and out of your native tongue and your learned one without a presence of mind to control it. As you speak, Daemon’s face morphs, knitted brows relaxing and mouth easing from its hard line into the gentlest of frowns. And then, you are silent. You wait for the death knell of judgement.

It never comes.

His hands slide lower, capturing your own and lacing fingers with you. He stares down at this joining, turning your wrist over as though he is marvelling at the disparity in size, in smoothness.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” It is low, strangely hurt.

Your heart thuds uneasily. This is not how you expected him to react at all. “I—I don’t know.”

He swallows, and again you are unsure if he is holding back anger or if he genuinely has none. The calloused pad of his finger strokes a line down the centre of your palm, eliciting an instinctive shiver from you.

“Gerardys said you went to see him. That you were in low spirits. Irritable. Fixed on this idea of nursing the babes by yourself.” He glances up, his lips twitching like he is reluctant to voice his next words. “He says… sometimes there is an—affliction—of the mind. It happens to new mothers.”

“You think I’m mad?” You try to pull your hand away, but he holds on.

Scoffing lightly, he says, “Maegor was mad, you silly girl. You are young. Frightened. A great deal has happened to you since we wed.”

His jaw tenses, no doubt recollecting those memories. The wedding night. The fight. Laena. Driftmark. Larys. Alicent. Father.

He sighs. “And I… I have not helped.”

Your mouth parts in protest. “I am happy with you,” you say stubbornly. “If you had not protected me—”

“And where have I been since the eve you hatched the twins’ dragons?” He turns from you, resting his elbows on his knees to rake his hands through his hair. “Hiding in the fucking Dragonmont. Like a coward.”

“You aren’t a coward. You’re the bravest man I’ve ever met.”

He laughs, short and sharp. It is an ugly sound. “Yes. So brave am I, I ran away and left my young wife alone to care for my children. I’m such a craven”—he lifts his head to look at you once more—“that I found it easier to let this happen instead of admitting how deeply that night unsettled me.”

An understatement, to be sure. You do not think ‘unsettled’ is sufficient enough to capture how either of you feel.

“It isn’t your fault,” you settle on telling him. “I should have just been able to nurse Rhaenar and Aelys without crying like a child—”

“You were overwhelmed. Worried. Thinking that not having enough milk means you’re somehow not fit to be their mother. What utter shit.”

“I cannot even feed them. How am I supposed to raise them?” Your voice is abnormally high and thready. You hear it, though it does not register as abnormal until Daemon’s expression stops you in your tracks. You shake your head, trying to stave off the tremble in your lower lip. “You don’t understand. I want—I need to be—enough for them.”

I don’t remember my mother, you want to say. I only remember ’Nyra and Alicent and Father. None of them were enough. None of them were able to make me feel less alone.

How am I supposed to stop Rhaenar and Aelys from being broken in the same way I was? Who do I turn to? What do I do? How can I protect them when I could not even protect myself?

When Daemon’s touch returns, it is unimaginably delicate, nearly tentative. He cups your cheek, tilts your head so your eyes can meet.

“You are enough,” he says. “How can you think otherwise? To love them is to be enough.”

A part of you wants to heed his words, to allow him to soothe your worries as he is so often able to do. Your thoughts, self-loathing as they are, continue to press against your will and shake the firmness of your resolve. “But—”

“Ah-ah. Remember our vows, sweetling.” His lip quirks, finding fondness in memory. “Did you not promise to obey me in all things?”

You nod tentatively.

He hums. “Obey me now, then. Cast those foolish notions from your mind and listen to your uncle, hm?”

You do not think you can agree so easily as he expects. This is a war in your head that he cannot help you wage through a simple command. But you want to believe that it could be as uncomplicated as he has made it.

“Alright,” you say. “I’ll try.”

His answering embrace feels like a port in the midst of a harrowing storm. When the world around you is careening wildly, uncontrolled and unstable, you know that he will bring you back to safe shores. He would fight those waves off himself if he could. You press your nose to his neck, breathe in the familiar smell of him—smokeleatherspice—and, for a time, everything feels just a little less terrifying.

“See? They’re fine,” Daemon says. “A night away has done no harm.”

The babes are well-settled in the nursery, placid and rested and bright-eyed. Rhaenar grips onto your thumb in welcome, while Aelys kicks her legs and squeals when she sees you above her. Though you are glad for it—glad that you had not ruined them in your desperate madness—there is a part of you that wishes they had not clearly been so manageable without you.

You eye the sleeping forms of Azorion and Valnissar, coiled faithfully by the sides of each of your children. The Keeper loiters near the window, watching on.

Freda nods hastily. “They have been fed and bathed, Princess, all ready for sleep. Nothing to concern yourself with.”

She clearly thinks this ought to ease your mind. If anything, it only serves to disappoint you. Not only had you missed out—you despise missing anything they do, any part of their life—but now there is no recourse for the ache in your chest. Even thinking of it is enough to make your nipples itch, your breasts throb. You pray that the front of your gown remains dry.

You turn toward the other occupant in the room. “And the dragons?”

The Keeper is here primarily for Tyraxes and Skyfrost, the respective future mounts of little Joff and Corwyn, given that the nurses brought in to care for the babes are not equipped to raise creatures so dangerous as the ones claimed by your House. Today, though, he is responsible for four of them. If the look upon his face and the sweat glistening on his brow is any indication, doubling his responsibilities has caused a great deal of stress, indeed.

“The elder two have been separated from the hatchlings,” he says, stepping forward jerkily. It is as though his limbs are fastened upon strings controlled by some higher being—a human marionette. The effect is startling. “The younger pair have been… spirited, though they are resting for the time being.”

Daemon snorts, shaking his head. “Of course they have. At least they don’t breathe fucking fire yet.”

“Fucky.”

Your husband’s head whips over to the rug by the table, where Corwyn and Joff happily toddle about on unsteady legs. Corwyn is looking straight towards Daemon, smiling and mashing his gums on what seems to be a wooden knight.

Like most of the children in your family, he appears to have developed a liking for the man. Mealtimes now often involve the boy stumbling to Daemon’s side to pass him whatever object he has deemed necessary to be kept in your uncle’s possession, wide amethyst eyes peering expectantly upward until the doll or block or carved figure is taken from his hands. Daemon will roll his eyes, thank him and pat him on his head of dark curls, the act inciting a squeal and babble before the child waddles back to his evening playtime.

At the abrupt cessation of conversation, Corwyn removes the figure from his mouth and speaks once again. “Fucky.”

“Shit,” Daemon murmurs. You strike his arm reflexively, but it is too late.

Corwyn laughs as he wanders back to Joff. “Shit. Shit. Shit-it-it-it-it-it…”

“Daemon!” you hiss, torn between irritation and a bizarre sort of amusement.

He shrugs. “Oh well. Nothing can be done now. It could be worse, sweetling. He could have walked in on us fu—”

“Rhaenyra will want your head on a pike for this,” you say hastily, in part to avoid scandalised stares from the attending staff and also to prevent Corwyn from repeating what his cousin has accidentally taught him. No doubt your little nephew will learn it from his half-brother, too.

“Perhaps we’d best depart for the evening, then”—Daemon’s hand is insistent on your elbow, a leading force that beckons you to follow—“lest you lose your husband to your sister’s temper.”

“That would be your own fault,” you say absent-mindedly.

You are unable to tear yourself away from Rhaenar and Aelys just yet. They are calm, yes, but this is not where they sleep, where they belong. You do not know if you can bear the sight of the empty cradle in your chambers or the absence of the sounds they make together with their dragons.

“Must they remain here?” you ask, more a whisper than a genuine plea.

“They are safe here.” Daemon reaches forth to let Aelys grasp his finger, an involuntary action since the babe had fallen into a doze during your visit, no doubt lulled by the sound of your voices. She is the more difficult of the pair to settle; you know Rhaenar will follow easily enough. “You ought to take respite from each other, if only for a night.”

His words are gentle, but the expression on his face reminds you of earlier. Obey me now. Cast those foolish notions from your mind. Listen to your uncle. You hear it as though it has been spoken aloud once again. Even so, the pulsing discomfort in your breasts stays your obedience.

“If I could just—”

“No. We’re leaving. You need to rest.” It is firmer this time, louder and more decisive. He is not persuading you—he is telling you.

With a sigh of defeat, you lean down and kiss each babe farewell, doing your best to quell the unreasonable instinct to cry at the thought of goodbye. Daemon offers his own departing caresses and steers you determinedly out of the room. The walk is silent, though the heat of his arm against your palm is comforting in its own way.

Your chest begins to truly ache, a sensation beyond simple fullness. The dress you wear feels too tight, too restrictive, and you are forced to concentrate on pushing each breath up and out to avoid friction between skin and fabric. The smallest degree of stimulation is enough to bring your milk forth.

The irony, you think in despair. No milk when the babes need it—and now, when they are full and slumbering, my supply is as bountiful as it ever has been. How cruel, the gods are!

When you are finally back in your chambers, you barely notice Jeyne and Bethany’s attempts at greeting, their offers of assistance, their gentle repositioning and the tugging of the laces at your back. All you are focused on as the gown loosens and spills to the ground is how you will relieve yourself of the weight in your breasts without bringing too much attention to yourself. Daemon is fascinated by the prospect, true, but given the strife you have caused… you know not how any complaint of it would be perceived. Perhaps he would finally be angered by your outburst? Perhaps he would be disappointed that you had been so juvenile that you could not even take control over your own body, decide that you did not need the milk and thus ought to have been able to will it away. You have been lucky thus far. It is not likely that fortune will continue to favour you today.

You resolve to dispose of the excess in the privy. It ought to be relatively simple—your uncle is hardly one to accompany you to such a place. ‘Tis certain that the notion of wasting it, especially when your goal is to increase its yield, is disheartening, but what else can you do?

If only Daemon was less observant.

“You’ve been far too quiet,” he says after your ladies exit, tossing his shirt rather carelessly over the desk and the papers covering it. His eyes trail you assessingly, and for a moment you are worried that he can tell. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You try to avoid glancing down at your chest. It would not do to give anything away. “I just—I need to use the privy.”

“No, you don’t.” He kicks his boots to the side, fingers working at the ties of his breeches. “It’s not shameful enough to explain the look on your face. Try again.”

“I’m not ashamed!” you say hotly, spine straightening in your affront.

It is the wrong move. Your nipples brush against the weave of your shift, the sensitivity amplified near to pain. You wince, shoulders curling inward and cringing away from the clothing you wear. As a warrior trained to spot the smallest of discrepancies, Daemon’s gaze falls down.

And there—he has it. You know he knows.

“Ah.” His nostrils flare, visage contorting slyly. “Uncomfortable, talītsos?”

Your breath hitches. It would be barely perceptible to any other, but not him. His gaze drifts between your line of sight and the curve of your breasts beneath the thin layer that separates your flesh from the cool air of the room, almost as though he cannot resist the temptation to look.

“I—they did not feed,” you say quietly, resisting the desire to squirm uncomfortably at the intensity directed straight toward you. “If I get rid of it before it overflows, I’ll make even more. That’s what Gerardys says. I should—”

“You should take off that shift.” Daemon’s breeches drop to the floor, discarded easily as he kneels upon the mattress and shuffles into his desired position, reclining like a king against the pillows. He bares himself proudly, arrogantly, the rosy flush of his cock not quite pronounced enough for arousal. His hand extends in invitation, mocking little smirk gracing the line of his lips at the hesitation he can so clearly read. “You’ll not be wasting such a bounty on a hole built to shit in.”

You sway, dubiously convinced. “It’s for the babes, though.”

“The babes are sleeping. Your husband is not—and he is ravenous, sweet girl.” A shiver travels up your spine from the gravelled timbre of his voice, the shadowed fire in his stare. His fingers flex in your direction, beckoning. “Come here.”

The pause you take before you heed his directive to tug open the ties at your neck and shrug the shapeless sleepwear off your form is not borne of any insecurity. You are not unhappy with your body. Naturally, there have been changes: wider hips, softer belly, skin etched with silvery webs across your middle, your thighs, the tops of your breasts. Though you cannot see it, you are sure that the opening from which your children were birthed has been altered irrevocably, too. You are proud of these differences. They mark the finality of your girlhood and the beginning of life as a woman. They are reminders of the lives you have brought into the world. And, like the burns that mottle much of your uncle’s upper body, they proclaim to all who see them that you too are a victor of glorious battle, all the more unique in that the war you had waged was one of life, not death.

No. You pause because you know Daemon, know what he is like. His appetites. His perversions. In any other state—at any other time—you would happily indulge his lusts. But not only is your body not ready to accept him, you do not even think you are capable of experiencing desire at present.

Even so, you step forward, bear the manner in which he leers, take his hand, and allow him to do with you as he will. There is comfort in giving yourself up.

He lays you out next to him, propping himself on his side so that he looms over you. The ends of his hair tickle against your cheek, bringing forth an immediate smile. It is matched by his own answering grin as he dips down to kiss you, and this you have missed. What surprises you is that it is not a kiss of need, but one of softness, fragile as the wings of a butterfly. You exchange breaths as you exchange yourselves in the union of lips.

“Let me help you,” he murmurs against you, the words passed forth to collect on the tip of your tongue. “Let me make it better.”

You nod, tipping your chin back as he presses his mouth to your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, sensual in his languorousness. It is like he carries no purpose other than to let you feel your own body again through his touch. The imprints of cooling damp left behind ground you, remind you of how it felt when you had first come alive under him, around him. When he reaches his target, you expect a shift in his demeanour—but he continues just as gently to take your right nipple between his lips and suckle as weakly as any infant might.

One, two, three pulls, and the relief is near instant. Daemon makes a low noise as your milk lets down, melting to your contours as his arms clasp you tightly against him. The sound of him taking sustenance from you is one of the few things you can hear in the relative silence of evening, carrying with it a peace of its own.

He is able to tell when to switch before even you, shifting swiftly and easily to your left to repeat the slow, tender drags that ease the discomfort and loosen the tight, full sensation weighing you down. The only attempt he makes at receiving his own satisfaction is to rut lightly against your thigh, aimless and lethargic, a base urge to self-soothe in moments of calm. You close your eyes, cradling his head to your chest and mindlessly dragging the tangles from his hair.

In seconds, minutes, hours—you know not—his movements come to a gradual halt. His cock remains hard against your skin, though he allows himself to deliver one final, lush glide of tongue along the fount from which he had supped before pillowing his head on the emptied swell of your breast. Together, you indulge in the serenity.

Eventually, you are driven to speak, though you are loath to disturb the mood that has befallen the room.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

His palms are warm pressed to the dip above your rear, tightening there as his ears register your voice. Otherwise, he does not move.

“I should be thanking you, sweetling,” he says, each word spoken with a gravity that conveys more than just the simplicity of the statement itself.

Vulnerability is difficult for your uncle, and you have learned all the ways in which he reveals the parts of himself too damaged by the world to readily expose. It is second nature to understand what he means to tell you, what he means to thank you for. Your children. Your life here. You. It is gratefulness, protection, apology, love all rolled into one.

You smile.

‘Tis true that nothing has been resolved. You have not succeeded in nursing the babes by yourself. You have not banished the sickening feeling that churns in the pit of your stomach, a constant reminder of the doubts that plague you. You have not spoken properly of the fire and blood of Azorion and Valnissar’s hatching.

But you have begun on the necessary paths to each. Every journey, however great or small, must start somewhere, after all. And—perhaps most importantly—there is not a single ailment that cannot be eased, at least for a time, by the strength of Daemon’s devotion to you.

As you crane your neck to proffer a kiss of your own to the top of your husband’s head, you know that whatever future awaits you is one you can face.

I can do this. I can do this. For the first time in days, you believe it.

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ssprayberrythings · 4 months

Text

no more shots | MV1, LN4

female!reader x max verstappen or lando norris, up to the reader

pov: you’re good friends with the drivers on the grid and after a wild night of celebrating your birthday, you get to relive what happened through watching your stories on instagram. lets just say it was a birthday you’ll never forget.

warnings: alcohol consumption, talk of being intoxicated, reader is completely conscious, mention of kissing/making out, small amount of swearing, i think thats it

yourusername posted on their story

caption: birthday festivities in full bloom @yourbestfriend, @yoursister, @friend2

╰ lilymhe: girl i cant wait to celebrate tonight

╰ landonorris: hope youre ready for my fire dj skills

╰ yourbestfriend: girl the boys are gonna drool tonight ;)

╰ carmenmmundt: i hope you liked the flowers from george and i !!

landonorris posted on their story

caption: i went easy on her today cause its her birthday @yourusername

╰ yourusername: & i still lost..it was worth a try

yourusername posted on their story

caption: only here for free drinks 🏌🏼‍♀️

╰ lilymhe: i hope you still won

╰ yourusername: you know i didn’t but thank you for being optimistic

yourusername posted on their story

caption: i have the best sister in the whole world 🥹

╰ danielricciardo: max and i helped too..

╰ yourusername: thank you danny, i appreciate you

yourusername_private posted on their instagram

landonorris, yourbestfriend, yoursister, georgerussell63 & others liked

my mood for today because im realizing how loved i am and its overwhelming

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yourbestfriend: bestie WE only want the best for you

yoursister: sis pull it together, you cant be crying once your makeups done

yourbestfriend posted on their story

caption: let the drinking begin @yourusername

╰ yourusername: ❤️

yourusername posted on their instagram

maxverstappen1, yoursister, lilymhe, yourbestfriend & others liked

its my birthday if you didn’t know 🍸

view all comments

maxverstappen1: happy birthday, tonights gonna be something 🤪

╰ yourusername: you already know it

lilymhe: no one else i want to celebrate more

╰ yourusername: i love you

landonorris: pretty sure the whole world knows

╰ yourusername: and is that a bad thing ?

╰ landonorris: not at all 😉

carmenmmundt posted on their story

caption: celebrating the sweetest soul 💗 @yourusername @yourbestfriend @yoursister @lilymhe

╰ yourusername: says you..but thank you lovely 🥰

danielricciardo posted on their story

caption: @yourusername first of many shots 😏

╰ yourusername: bring ‘em on 😏

yourusername_private posted a series of stories on instagram

caption: yes we did this

caption: my lovers @yourbestfriend @friend2

caption: the papaya boys showed up @landonorris @oscarpiastri

caption: the shots continue..

You posted the last story on your private instagram and then locked your phone. Sliding it into your back pocket, you looked around at your apartment where all your friends were scattered about.

You didn’t always love your birthday but ever since becoming friends with the f1 drivers and some of their girlfriends, you’ve adapted a new attitude towards the day as they make being alive more enjoyable and continue to show you how deeply they all care for you.

You turned to your left when you felt someone come stand beside you with their hand resting on the wall next to you, it was Lando “Hey birthday girl, what are you doing over here on the side” he asked looking at you

“Just taking it all in” you smiled at him answering his question. You were close with Lando, you had been right from the minute the two of you met. You both had similar personalities and when the two of you were together it really showed.

“Well let me know when you’re done doing that and we’ll go do another round of shots” he smirked knowing you were a shot type of girl and would almost always shoot back whatever liquid was in a shot glass given to you

“You know me so well” you told him in response before taking his hand and leading him to the table where the alcohol was.

yourusername posted on their story

caption: let the night commence

yoursister posted on their story

caption: tequila sodas in martini glasses >>> 😍

yourusername posted on their story

caption: hey look its @maxverstappen1

╰ maxverstappen1: where are you ? we ordered another round of shots

╰ yourusername: near the washrooms

Max read your reply to his question and then set out to find you. You had a bad habit of walking off when you had been drinking and most of the time it was with someone else but sometimes it was by yourself which was why Max was going to look for you now, not wanting anything to happen.

He found you sure enough by the red bull sign near the women’s washroom “Maxieee” you called out once you spotted him “you found me” you smiled at the man

“I sure did, thanks for not moving” he chuckled “Did you already use the washroom or are you waiting?” he asked, figuring that was the reason you were over here “I already went” you told him

“Alright, let's get back to the others then, I believe there’s a round of shots waiting for you” he told you, you smiled wider, you loved your shots.

As you started walking towards him, you slightly stumbled a bit as the floor was a bit uneven but luckily Max was there to make sure you didn’t fall and helped steady yourself. You didn’t even process that his hands were on you holding you in place to regain your balance.

You couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol in your system or the feeling of his hands on you but you could feel yourself getting hot. “You good?” Max asked when you didn’t say anything at first

“Oh yeah, thanks, that would’ve been embarrassing if I had fallen” you joked, brushing off the feeling you experienced a few moments prior. Max still had his hands on you but once he realized, he retracted them and dropped them to his sides

“Don’t worry, there wont be any falling on my watch” he joked back, you just let out a small laugh and then the two of you made your way back to the others.

lilymhe posted on their story

caption: my favourite dance partner @yourusername

╰ alex_albon: rude

╰ lilymhe: too bad - y/n

yourusername_private posted on their instagram

pierregasly, landonorris, yourbestfriend, charles_leclerc & others liked

drunk night ft f1 drivers 🤪🤪🤪🤪

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landonorris: i look good

charles_leclerc: i don’t even remember this happening

pierregasly: i wasn’t even that drunk…

yourbestfriend: my favourite out of these is the dude cropped out of the pic of lando and max

- yoursister posted on their story

caption: no f**ks given @yourusername

╰ yourusername: oh my goodness

yourusername_private posted on their story

caption: @yoursister does this make you a wag now ;0

╰ yoursister: ur the worst

╰ yoursister: but yes it does

You laughed as you snapped the photo of your sister and Daniel and posted it on your story. You had suspicions that they were seeing each other but neither had confirmed anything until tonight when you caught them making out.

“Hey lovebirds, we’re doing karaoke if you want to join” you said calling them taking them away from each other's lips “Go away” your sister said turning to you, glaring. You laughed and then walked back to the rest of your friends.

Tonight felt like it was never ending, you had done so many shots and had a couple cocktails. You were feeling great even if yes you were drunk and would probably wake up with a massive hangover, you were making memories with the people you cared most about.

yourusername_private posted on their story

caption: they keep coming

lilymhe posted on their story

caption: she may be my dance partner but she’s alex’s karaoke partner @yourusername @alex_albon

╰ yourusername: we were singing to you

╰ alex_albon: still butt hurt about the dance partner thing

yourusername_private posted a series of stories on instagram

caption: @pierregasly embracing the wild night

╰ pierregasly: if i wasn’t drunk before this, i definitely was after

caption: maxie

╰ charles_leclerc: wow you actually got him to smile

╰ yourusername_private: he always smiles around me, maybe its you

╰ charles_leclerc: you can be mean

╰ yourusername_private: 🤷🏻‍♀️

caption: charlie

╰ charles_leclerc: convinced you hate me

╰ yourusername_private: i swear i don’t

yourbestfriend posted on their story

caption: he stole my best friend 😡 @landonorris @yourusername

╰ yourusername: oh geez

╰ landonorris: 🤪

It was now close to 3am and you definitely needed to call it a night. Everyone was beyond drunk, the most sober was probably Oscar and George which made you feel at ease knowing if someone needed to be sober one of them could step up.

You were on the dance floor with Lando, the alcohol controlling your every move because sober you would’ve never danced that close to Lando or let him put his hands on your waist near your butt while your arms pulled him closer by placing them on his shoulders.

Sure Lando was an attractive man and you could understand the appeal but he was one of your best friends, you could never cross that line, could you? You had all these thoughts running through your brain but for some reason you kept dancing like this, until your best friend called your names and when you turned to her she had her phone out taking a quick picture of you two, similar to what you had done earlier with your sister and Daniel.

“We should probably get out of here” Lando suggested “Everyone’s pretty drunk, yourself included” he added as his hands remained on your waist. He was also just as drunk as you were and if he was being honest, he didn’t mind the closeness between the two of you.

“Yeah youre probably right” you agreed with him. Neither of you made any movement though just stared into each others eyes, caught up in the moment of how close your bodies were, it was as if neither of you knew whether to make a move or step away from one another.

“You’re really pretty” he told you. You weren’t sure how to respond, he was your best friend, this was the alcohol talking or was there something here that you had missed before now.

To Lando, he wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol talking but all he could think about in this moment was kissing you. With how close you were, it would be so easy to just lean in and join your lips but he wasn’t sure if that was something you wanted.

Neither of you were so caught up in your own thoughts about the other, you almost missed the phone vibrating in your pocket, it was Lily.

You quickly picked up, “Hey, everyone’s outside, I think some of us are going to find food and some are ordering ubers to go home. If you and Lando want to join or stay here, its up to you two” she told you “We’ll be right out” you told her before quickly hanging up

“Everyone’s either going home or getting food, we should go meet them” you passed the message onto Lando before taking a step back causing him to retract his hands. Neither of you said anything after that and he just simply nodded. From there you both made your way towards the exit to your friends.

yourusername posted on their story

caption: ending the night with my faves ♥️ @lilymhe @alex_albon

( not pictured; max, charles & pierre )

╰ alex_albon: you couldn’t have waited till i was actually smiling

╰ yourusername: nope

more replies

╰lilymhe: those fries hit the spot for sure

After the six of you had finished eating, it was time for you to go your separate ways. You were ordering an uber and out of everyone you were still the most drunk, even with the food in your system so someone had to take an uber with you to be sure you got home safely

“I live in that area, I’ll go with her” Max offered as everyone stood on the corner of the street outside the restaurant they were just in. You were sitting on the curb, just looking at your phone tracking the process of your uber.

“Okay” Alex said “Text one of us when you’re both home safely” Lily added then the two of them started making their way towards their hotel. They had sobered up and wanted to walk home seeing as the hotel wasn’t far. That just left you, Max, Charles and Pierre.

“Its 4 minutes away” you told Max looking up to him before looking back to your phone. “Do you want us to wait?” Charles asked as him and Pierre were going in the same direction and their uber had just arrived “No its fine, just text when youre home” Max said before the two drivers got in the uber leaving just you and Max.

“Are you cold?” Max asked when he noticed you were slightly shivering “No I’m fine, the uber will be here soon” you told him as you stood up. Max just chuckled and noticed the way you indistinctly wrapped your arms around yourself. He shook his jacket off and laid it on your shoulders.

“Thanks” you gave him a small smile, as you put the jacket on properly and instantly felt warmer. Within a few seconds your uber was here and Max was opening the door for you. “Oh why thank you” you joked to him earning a small nod from Max acting as a doorman and then closing the door before walking around the car to get in on the other side.

It wasn’t a long drive from where you had been to your place but in your drunken state, it felt longer. You hadn’t even noticed your eyes starting to droop or the way your head rested on Max’s shoulder, being engulfed by the warmth of his jacket.

By the time the uber pulled up to your place, you seemed to be sleeping. Max didn’t want to disturb you so he carefully got you out of the vehicle, holding you in his arms. He did a double take of the backseat making sure nothing was left behind before thanking the driver and making his way up to your front door. You slightly stirred slightly awake.

“Are you able to get your keys out?’ Max asked still carrying you but he could see you were sort of conscious “Yeah” you mumbled as you reached into your purse and pulled out your keys, turning slightly in Max’s arms to open your door.

Once you were inside, you rested your head back on his shoulder and nuzzled into his warmth. He gently shut the door with his foot before making his way to your bedroom to put you down.

He walked in, laying you peacefully on your bed “Will you stay?’ you asked ever so softly, Max almost didn’t hear your request. He couldn’t bare to say no so he gave you soft “sure” before going back into your living area and locking the front door.

From there he made his way to your kitchen, noticing the mess from the earlier party, he made a mental note to clean up a bit for you. Right now he was focused on getting you some water and making sure you were okay. He filled up a glass he found along with some pills to help with the headache he was sure you’d have in the morning.

When he walked back into your room, you had wrapped his jacket further around yourself and it was obvious you were knocked out. He admired how peaceful you looked before placing the water and pills on your side table and then carefully removed his jacket from you, replacing it with the fuzzy blanket that stayed at the foot of your bed. He also made sure to remove your shoes and plug your phone in before making his way back to the kitchen to clean up so that was one less thing you had to worry about tomorrow.

When you awoke in the morning, you felt your head pounding and your throat was dry. Lucky for you, Max had put just exactly what you needed on your side table, however you didn’t remember asking Max to stay so when you walked out to your living room, you were shocked to see the Red Bull driver, sleeping on the couch, one of your couch pillows under his head and a blanket draped over him.

You smiled to yourself at the sight of him sleeping so peacefully and quietly made your way to your kitchen, wanting to refill your water. You felt your heart stop when you noticed there was a garbage bag full of the dirty plates, cans, decorations, shot glasses, along with all the dirtied dishes, washed and drying in your drying rack.

There was only one person who could’ve done all of this and you could almost cry at the thought that Max took the time to do that even if he had been drunk himself and probably wanted to sleep. You refilled your water and walked back into your room, making a mental note to thank Max once he was awake.

You got back into bed and reached for your phone. You immediately went onto your socials and went through both your public and private instagrams seeing everything you had posted and the replies from everyone. You laughed, this was definitely a birthday you would never forget.

yourusername posted on their instagram

yourbestfriend, yoursister, landonorris, maxverstappen1, pierregasly, lilymhe & others liked

birthday film dump 🎞️

thanks to everyone that made it one to remember. you know who you are <3

view all comments

yoursister: always a pleasure getting to celebrate my little sister

╰ liked by yourusername

landonorris: im never touching alcohol again..

╰ oscarpiastri: you know thats not true

╰ landonorris: shhhh 🤫

maxverstappen1: do you remember everything that happened?

╰ yourusername: bits and pieces..i remember the stuff that matters

╰ maxverstappen1: 🙄

yourbestfriend: we have so much to discuss bestie 🤭

╰ liked by yourusername

i hope you enjoyed this!! it was so fun to write and i hope it gets a good reaction!! i didn't know if reader should end up with lando or max so i left it up for interpretation but feel free to comment who you want her to end up with and maybe i can write an add-on with the driver who gets the most votes, just lmk ♥️

#ssprayberrythings x formula one #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 smau #lando norris smau #lando norris x reader #lando norris #formula 1 x reader #x reader #imagines

527 notes · View notes

venusgirltarot · 4 months

Text

Your Idea of Them vs. What They’re Really Like

☆ ミ book a reading with me ☆彡

Disclaimer: This reading is for entertainment purposes only. Tarot readings are about possibilities based on your current energy. Energy is forever changing and nothing is set in stone. Always remember, you have your own free will to make whatever decision you feel is best.

Pile 1 — [♡];

The energy here isn’t what I was expecting, Pile One. I think it’s something you really need to hear, though. I think you know what this person is really like and I think that’s why you’ve decided to walk away from them. For some of you, you’ve already done this and for others I think you’re still thinking about it. For those of you that have, you may be thinking about going back or maybe there’s just a small part of you that wonders if you made the right decision but please trust yourself and know that you did. If you have fully made the decision to walk away yet, know that it’s the right decision.

You may have been in a long term relationship with this person and are just now seeing a different side to this person. I keep hearing 3 or 4 years? They may have just started acting easily irritable, careless, not as loving as they once were. You no longer felt safe, loved, and appreciated with this person. Maybe something happened in their life or something with their family caused some sort of change or shift within them? I’m not completely sure.

If you no longer feel happy or safe in a connection then please don’t stick around in hopes of change. Accept nothing less than what you deserve and let go of what is no longer serving you. Some of you may have children with this person or maybe you have children of your own or something. Only take that if it resonates. Those of you who have not left yet may be nervous about the outcome of leaving or wondering if it’s the right decision, please trust what your intuition is telling you and walk away if that is what your intuition is saying. You will flourish outside of this connection and things will get so much better for you. Its going to be okay. You have far more strength and independence within you than you realize and you are capable of far more than you think you are.

I hope you’re doing well, Pile One and if no one else has told you today, please know that I am proud of you. ❤️

Pile 2 — [♡];

Pile Two, I don’t think your person really expected you. I’m having a hard time finding how you view them because I feel their energy so strongly. They hold a space for you but I think they try to avoid or deny that space if that makes sense. I’m having a hard time explaining it. Their feelings/emotions are so conflicting. It’s like there’s potential for them to fall deeply in love with you but they’re fighting it so hard. I’m not sure why though because they know you wouldn’t hurt them. They have such a soft spot for you.

They may have had an idea of what their life was supposed to look like and what their next step was but you came along and kind of changed things for them and they don’t know if they want that. I heard “if only I had a little more time” they may have wanted to be at a different place in their life when you came along and they worry this will become a “right person wrong time” sort of situation. They may also cuss a lot because I’m hearing lots of that. “I need to get my shit together” and “I fucked up in a bad way”. There was a point in the reading where I was crying because I was so emotional.

You don’t really need this person and maybe that’s what scares them. You have options and may come off as very independent and confident in yourself. I heard “this could hurt me more than it could hurt you” they seem to think they have more at risk here for some reason. You have a parental/motherly energy that they love about you. You’re empathetic and caring. You care for them but maybe more in a subtle way. You’re not overbearing in the way you check up on them. You may be sort of sassy/quick witted and they really like that, as well. I wonder if they don’t fantasize about long term commitment and children with you. Very rarely or maybe even just once but it may have crossed their mind. They’re afraid to let themselves open up or get close to you because they know the way you’d treat them and care for them when you really got to know the real them would make them fall deeply in love with you and they don’t want that. They’re fighting their feels very hard, Pile Two.

I hope that this person gets it together and opens up to you, Pile Two but I can’t promise that they will. Don’t wait around if you don’t feel that’s what you want to do. I can’t give you a timeline or promise that this person will come forward so you will really have to follow your own intuition here. I truly hope it works out in your favor, Pile Two.

Pile 3 — [♡];

I think there’s a more serious side of this person that they don’t want you to see. To you, they like to come off as well established and sure of themselves. They carry a lot of weight on their shoulders and could become easily stressed with work related stuff. They may be some sort of boss of CEO. For some of you, this may be someone that’s very successful and financially well off.

You help them a lot with this stress without realizing it. You’re like a safe haven to them. You don’t see them as a boss or someone with all the answers and you’re not dependent on them in any way. They can just enjoy their time with you and you have no expectations of them. They really appreciate you and your energy.

This feels like a newer connection. You’re still getting to know each other but could be starting to see each other more seriously and wanting to groin and establish something more serious with one another. I think they’ll share all of this with you when the time is right because they do want more with you and see you as someone they want to be with long term.

Your person has a very mature energy. They could be older than you. They’re very intelligent and well establish but they may be a little too hard in themselves quite often.

#tarotblr #free tarot readings #free readings #tarot cards #tarot reader #tarot related #pac reading #tarot requests #collective reading #spirituality #pick a card #tarot pick a pile #pick a picture #love reading #self love reading #tarot #tarot reading #spiritguides #pick a pile

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ghcstao3 · 15 days

Note

more mi6 ghost and sas soap i beg!!! it itches something in my brain so hard!!!! i love ur writing sm ur sosososo talented <333

(original post since it’s been so long i am so so sorry. also apologies if it's paced weirdly i never had much of an idea where to take the original prompt. thank you though, for supporting my writing :) <3)

Soap would never be so naive as to expect a warm welcome from a team of elite agents, but the cold shoulder he's thus far received from one of said agents hardly seems necessary in its place.

He's barely even said a word.

The haughty bastard keeps staring at Soap, too, like Soap can't tell there are eyes on him behind sunglasses, and a frown behind a medical mask. He refused to shake Soap's hand, hadn't even been introduced by name like the others—Ghost, is all that was offered—and now he was scrutinizing Soap in some indecipherable way that Soap would put up to a cause of him being military, if it weren't for the fact that no one else of similar status was getting the same treatment.

It's bizarre. It couldn't even be the mohawk, for once, because he'd actually grown that out in anticipation of this high-honour, high-stakes mission.

Of course, the treatment doesn't ebb as days, weeks stretch on. But Soap learns to live with it, throws himself into the mission like he has something to prove, acquaints himself with everyone else.

Ghost becomes a background nuisance. He and his perfectly tailored suits hardly hold any weight to Soap by the time they're forced together and everything becomes a whole lot clearer.

Two months into the operation is when the team finally encounters the kind of action Soap is used to; bouts of gunfire, ducking for cover, barking out commands, incapacitating enemies with force before stealth. Begrudgingly, Soap and Ghost are left to cover one another's sixes.

Admittedly, Ghost is a damn good shot and has a rather keen eye for enemies. Soap would never utter this statement aloud, but they work terribly well as a team.

When everything goes silent for several minutes and they've received confirmation that the area's been cleared, that they're free to proceed with the mission, Ghost and Soap cautiously move from where they'd been taking cover.

Then Ghost is shot in the chest.

Another few gunshots ring out following, as Soap drags the agent back into their hiding place. Thankfully his bulletproof vest had taken the brunt of the blow, but it's obvious the wind had been knocked out of Ghost, evidenced by the sharp, wheezing gasps that try to pull air into his lungs.

Soap offers nothing more than a clipped sorry before ripping off the mask that's clearly hindering Ghost's ability to draw a proper breath.

His heart drops. Soap knows that face.

For good measure, he removes Ghost's sunglasses as well, and—fuck. Yes, Soap knows that face. Intimately.

"Simon? You bastard, what the hell?"

Simon winces. He's still breathless when he replies, "Johnny, don't—later. Fuck."

Later. Soap huffs. He only agrees because there are more pressing things, of course, but also because he's not happy to imagine the nasty bruise that was surely going to blossom across his partner's chest in the coming days.

They're not as useful the second time around, but they get what they need done. Soap operates purely on confusion and a mild frustration until later finally arrives, because he'd just like to know... anything, really.

Unfortunately, later doesn't even come when the mission is completed. Later doesn't even come until about a month following Soap's discovery. Suspense nearly kills him.

They're both home again. The operation had been of enough importance that it had, thankfully, warranted everyone at least a short break. Simon is only home because of the bruise that has yet to fade.

Things are tense, initially. Words are terse yet not unkind; they give each other space yet they go to sleep in the same bed each night. Their mutual stubbornness keeps them both from acknowledging the elephant in the room.

Until Soap grows too impatient, nearing the end of his own leave.

Over an otherwise silent dinner, Soap finally asks, "Will I ever get to know what was going on during that mission, then? Why you were being such a prick?"

Simon pauses, setting his fork down with a sigh. His shoulders slump as he sits back in his chair and drags a tired hand over his face, and Soap almost scoffs. Like the issue hasn't been bothering Soap as well.

"I didn't want you to worry about me over the course of everything. In case something happened," Simon confesses.

Soap snorts. "What, like you wouldn't be worried about me? Like you aren't worried about me, already knowing what I do for work?"

"No, Johnny, that's not what—" Simon sighs again. Soap catches the way he almost moves his hand to rub his chest in habit, before rethinking the choice in remembering the bruise. "Of course I worry about you. I just... didn't want to create any unnecessary risks. I trust you, more than anyone, but I've also been in this line of work for a while. I know my own limits."

Soap hangs his head. He... understands. He does. His own career requires the same kinds of limitations, but he's still upset that Simon felt he couldn't manage.

"I'm sorry," Simon eventually murmurs. He reaches a hand across the table and covers Soap's balled fist with a warm, callused hand. "I was wrong. You're a good soldier. Should've known that seein' you were chosen for the task force."

A blush burns at the tips of Soap's ears, and gradually he unclenches his hand. "I forgive you," he says. Soap doesn't think he could fault Simon forever, anyway. "But you'd better make it up to me."

"Of course." A smile tugs at Simon's lips, something almost mischievous. "Anything you like."

(This, of course, meant that Soap would be taking great pleasure in beating Simon's records at the gun range. And perhaps a few other things as well.)

#ask #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #alternate universe #writing

191 notes · View notes

princessbrunette · 2 months

Note

bodyguard!jj pulling his gun out on someone who’s all up in your face 😳😳 It would be so hot Id probably have to change my panties

୧ ‧₊˚ 👠・₊✧

trying to be ‘respectful’ on the job could be a pain in jj’s ass — and he’s not just talking about trying to be professional around you. you were sociable, too sociable, so more times than not the weekend would come and you, millionaire kook-nepo baby turned social media whatever would come dragging your bodyguard anywhere and everywhere that you could.

but like jj always told you, you could take the man out of the cut but you couldn’t take the cut out of the man. it was often his actions would come across brutish, irrational, aggressive— but he did what he could to protect you. maybe he cared about protecting you a little too much, for selfish reasons instead of professional.

he stands a few feet back, giving you your privacy at this networking party you’d dragged him too. don’t get him wrong, he loves a party— when he gets to smoke weed and drink beer. coming to a party strictly to stand there and stare at one girl all night wasn’t exactly his mojo.

his bodyguard senses that he’d gained from working for you started to tingle as he snapped out of his thoughts, eyeing your body language. you were stiff, and whilst your back was to him he somehow knew the exact face you were making. this guy, the asshole you were speaking to was all up in your face, too touchy, a totally weird and off putting vibe. jj didn’t wanna come across as overbearing, but then again — he was doing his job.

he arrives at your side within a millisecond, staring down the guy in your face. “step back a little for me, bro.” he tries to be civil about it all whilst standing his ground, his small unblinking smile a thinly veiled threat. the guy scoffs, clearly off too many of the free champagne flutes being liberally handed out.

“babe, why is the help talking to me?” he sneers, amused and jj’s eyes flutter, taking a deep breath to not cuss him out.

“thats my bodyguard.” you frown, meekly — but you defend jj anyway. that calms him just a tad.

“thats your bodyguard?” he smirks, finally letting go of your arm to stare at jj. “what are you gonna do if i don’t step back, huh?”

the blonde bodyguard is done with the games, whipping his pistol out from its holster and holding it directly to his forehead, collecting a sea of gasps and shrieks from decorum-obsessed party goers. “i’ll light this god damn room up, that’s what i’ll do dude. you gonna step back? or am i gonna have to blow your brains out infront of a pretty girl.”

“jj!” you clutch your glittery necklace, stepping behind him nonetheless. the rich asshole has no idea what hit him, backing away and scurrying off with piss in his overpriced boxers. jj licks his lips casually as he looks around at the scene he caused, tucking the gun back into its holster as he turns to look down at you.

“we done here? think it’s time to peel, unless of course you’d rather be escorted out by the actual security guards. they look pretty mad, so…”

you nod, wordless as you process what just happened, letting him guide you away from the party by the small of your back. maybe it was the champagne talking, but seeing jj protect you like that seemed to go straight to your panties, your thunderous heart beat having nothing on the pulse through your clit. you bite your bottom lip, turning to look up at him as he walks you out the building.

“don’t give me that look. was doin’ my job, cupcake. the dude was pushin’ his luck.”

“i can’t believe you did that.” you let out in a breath, and it’s only then once you get outside into the cool evening air he slows his pace, turning to look at you. his face falls a little, wondering if you were really mad. he says nothing, awaiting his scolding. “i… can’t believe you did that.” you repeat, this time falling into a fit of giggles, covering your mouth.

his brow raises, sizing you up.

“uh, how much of that champagne did you drink?”

“you were really gonna shoot that guy just for standing too close to me?” you’re elated, approaching him with a doe eyed grin looking nothing short of a disney princess. he shrugs, not understanding the hype.

“i mean the guy was practically begging for it.”

“thats so hot.”

“what now?”

“cool, that was so cool.” you correct quickly, stepping back. “thank you.” you smile and he blinks at you at few times, knowing exactly what he heard.

“yeah, don’t sweat it… just doin’ my job, sugar.” he starts to walk you to the car — this time with a smirk on his face that you daren’t question.

୧ ‧₊˚ 👠・₊✧

#anon #jj maybank prompt #bodyguard!jj

263 notes · View notes

tsumuchi · 3 months

Text

summary: whilst on your vacation in fontaine you accidentally end up in jail. fortunately for you, a certain someone is going to make your trip down to the fortress worthwhile

pairing: wriothesley x gn!reader

genre: fluff, strangers to friends to lovers sort of

warnings: none

notes: not proofread (will do so later) around 6000 words long, reader isn’t from fontaine and works in mondstadt (hints at reader working for albedo), reader is also a bit slow and wriothesley isn't any help and sigewenne sides with him, set after archon quest

after spending four days down at the fortress of meropide, you could confidently say it sucked.

the accommodations, the food, the people, the faint smell of oil and grease always lingering around, it was a major downgrade from the hotel you had been staying in previously.

you had originally come to fontaine for a vacation that your boss back in mondstadt insisted you needed. and now you were going to have to spend most of it in prison.

all you had done, was eat ketchup on its own. that’s all. nothing more, nothing less. it wasn't even that big of a deal, you were just hungry and forgot to bring money for fries to go with it so you ended up eating a packet of ketchup. yet during the trial at the opera epiclese the fontainians made you seem like a villain.

sighing you sat down at the coupon cafeteria at an empty table placing your free meal down. it already reeked.

by the time my twenty-day sentence is over, i’ll only have three days of my vacation left... you thought.

in the fortress of meropide, the inmate that led you on your tour upon first arriving explained that you would have to work in the 'production zone' everyday and you only got one free welfare meal a day.

with that information you decided it'd be best to skip out on breakfast and dinner and have your meal at lunch. all your other time you spent working in the production zone under grainville's supervision. the work was at least easier than all the expeditions in dragonspine you'd have to go on with your boss.

that, essentially, was your routine for the four days you had spent here. you didn't want to get in trouble again for some stupid reason so you made sure to keep to the rules.

opening your welfare meal for the day, you were met with the same disgusting grey sludge that had greeted you yesterday and the day before. you immediately put the lid back on.

since you had step foot in the fortress, you hadn’t eaten a single thing and you honestly felt famished. it wasn’t your fault that everything was practically inedible.

you rested your chin on your hand, sighing yet again for the nth time today. you were considering just skipping lunch entirely, it wasn't like you were eating anything anyway.

when you first stepped foot in the fortress, you told yourself you should try and make the most out of your trip here, think of it as an experience, an extra vacation. but it was as if there was something you were missing.

most of the other inmates looked as if they were living the life down at the fortress of meropide. your isolated table was surrounded by others who were happily chatting away, with scrummier meals than you as well.

am i doing something wrong? how can anyone be genuinely happy here?

you thought, pushing away you’re own meal box in disgust and staring longingly at someone else’s meal that looked as if it belonged in hotel debord. the sight alone was enough to fill a fraction of the hunger inside you.

i guess this will just have to do...

“not a fan of the food, huh?” a voice suddenly spoke and you jumped slightly looking up to see a man sitting opposite you on your once lonely table.

one glance at the man and you already knew you did not want to deal with him. you had already ran into a couple of inmates, they either ignored you because they didn’t care or gave you a hard time just because.

this man, looked as if he was ready to do the latter.

well, i shouldn’t judge a book by it's cover…

he had messy black hair with grey streaks along with piercing blue eyes. with the way his arms were crossed you could see his muscles flex but also the various scars on them. he also had numerous scars around his neck and one just underneath his right eye.

you’d be lying if you said he was unattractive, you definitely would've noticed someone like him by now so you wondered why you hadn't seen him before.

“well, maybe i’d eat it if it at least looked edible.” you responded watching him in front of you, still taking in his whole appearance.

maybe... he's new here too? why else would he come talk to me?

at your response the man raised a brow, taking in your features. as his eyes scanned across your attire and up to your face, they eventually landed on your own as he stared right through you. his gaze pierced through you and you nearly shuddered from the intimidation.

you also noticed the looks and hushed whispers that other inmates were giving him once he had sat on your table. perhaps people had been giving him a hard time.

"um," you gulped "are you new here?" you asked. maybe he didn't have any friends like you, that would explain why he came and sat on your table all of a sudden.

he stared at you a while longer before giving you a lazy smile and leaning forward slightly. “yeah i am, are you?”, he asked.

"i mean i joined here four days ago so i guess... what's your name?" you asked smiling back, maybe he wasn't as scary as he looked.

he was silent for a bit as he looked down, it was as if he was contemplating whether he should tell you or not. you stared at him expectantly awaiting his answer.

"wriothesley." he said eventually.

"wriothesley." you repeated, "well, i'm (y/n). i may not know a lot about this place but if you need anything i can try my best to help." you smiled warmly at him.

he smiled back, well more it was more of a smirk, but either way there was a glint of something in his eye that you noticed but couldn't quite put your finger on.

—————

after your little chat with wriothesley at lunch, the two of you parted ways and you headed to the production zone to work until bed time.

when you headed to your room, you got ready for bed and tucked yourself in, closing your eyes so that you could allow sleep to engulf you.

except it never did, and you laid in your bed for hours waiting for the sleep to come.

after a while it eventually rolled to 1am, it was dead silent apart from the constant sound of cogs whirring giving the fortress a more of an eerie feel as you slipped out of your bed.

you trudged towards the lift and made your way to the bottom floor, planning on just sitting at the coupon cafeteria for a while basking in the silence. that's when you stumbled upon the place to find that someone was already there.

the same man from earlier sat in the dim light at the same table from earlier with a teacup to his lips peacefully drinking away, eyes closed. a matching teapot was upon the table and sweet smell of tea wafted throughout.

the rich and sweet aroma was nearly intoxicating, and for someone who hadn't eaten properly in the past few days you felt as if you were hypnotised.

at first you observed from a distance, comtemplating whether or not you should confront him. would he let you try some if you asked? you would have to remember his name first...

wriother... wriothesee... wriothesley? wriothesley! that was it!

"wriothesley?" you called out to the fellow inmate as he opened his eyes to meet yours. he help the cup away from his lips briefly and spoke up.

"oh, evening (y/n)." he acknowledged giving you a small nod, as you made your way to sit opposite him.

"why are you drinking tea out in the open? the guards are going to catch you." you asked while he merely shrugged and set his cup down.

"the guards end their watch night duty at twelve." he stated.

oh, i didnt know that.

"i could ask you the same though. what are you doing wandering around at one in the morning?" he asked, glancing at you.

"i just... couldn't sleep that's all." you said turning your head slightly.

you eyes trailed down to the cup that now rested on the table, noticing how the steam frrom the cup swirled and how the smell was even sweeter now that you were close. wriothesley saw all of this.

"...would you like a sip?" he eventually asked watching the way your eyes gazed on his teacup.

at his words you shot your head up to face him properly.

"really? can i?" your eyes practically lit up which he also took note off, he chuckled before pushing the teacup forward in your direction so that it was in front of you.

you grinned at him before taking the cup in your hands, not too bothered about the fact that you were using the same one as him.

you proceeded to take a sip and it tasted ten times better than the smell. the heat from the drink brought warmth inside of you and the flavours had a sense of familiarity.

the warm hot tea that your boss would usually give you in the little cave in the freezing depths of dragonspine was what first crossed your mind. and you were reminded of home.

you were done taking your sip and let out a happy sigh as you set the cup down.

unbeknownst to you, wriothesley had watched the way you drink the tea and couldn't help but be fascinated in the way your facial expression changed. your eyebrows slightly raised with your eyes slightly widened, the way your smile truly met up to your eyes.

a warm feeling came over him to see you enjoying the tea just as much - probably even more than he did.

"do you like it?" wriothesley asked and you nodded eagerly.

"yeah! it's really good, and tastes sort of familiar. anyway, thanks again, wriothesley." you said pushing the cup back towards him.

"no probl-" he cut himself off after looking down at the now empty tea cup that you had given back to him.

"you finished it..." he muttered quietly eyes widened slightly, when he had handed it to you there was still quite a lot left.

your eyes also widened at his expression as you sheepishly rubbed the back of your neck.

"sorry, i haven't eaten much since i got here so..." you said avoiding his gaze out of embarrassment, you hadn't meant to get carried away the tea just tasted that good.

his eyes shifted from the cup and looked at you, frowning ever so slightly, "you haven't eaten?"

"well apart from the few snacks i brought, my welfare meals have been so bad..." you explained still feeling a tad bit guilty.

"i see. the welfare meals are picked at random so you must've been unfortunate." he explained.

"oh really? so that's how it works..." you said trailing off in thought.

he knew about the when the guards' duty ended and the welfare meals yet i didn't, is this guy really new or am i just slow?

"um, how long have you been here wriothesley?" you asked cautiously and curiously.

"three days." he replied rather suddenly, filling his teacup with some more tea out of the teapot.

"oh, ok then." you said, "it's just you know a lot about this place, probably more than me!" you laughed slightly, he didn't respond and instead kept quiet.

silence fell over the two of you as he sipped his tea looking down at the table and you watched him contently with a small smile.

"you're much nicer than i thought, y'know." you said out of the blue.

"hm?" he said looking back up to face you, "what do you mean by that?"

"i guess it's just that when I first saw you i got the impression that you were the kinda inmate who scared everyone. kinda like a big bad wolf." you explained.

at your comment, he simply looked at you with a deadpan expression. seemingly unimpressed at your claims.

you laughed at his face as a yawn escaped your mouth the same time.

"perhaps you should go to sleep now." he suggested noticing your tiredness.

"maybe i should." you agreed getting up from your seat and stretching, you checked your watch and it was nearly 2.

you looked at wriothesley mildly perplexed, "aren't you going to sleep?"

he shook his head, "no, i still have some things i need to sort out."

what could he possible need to do at 2am?

you decided not to question his motives as yet another yawn escaped you.

"alright then, make sure you get some sleep at least. good night wriothesley." you waved, him giving you a curt nod back before making your way back to your room.

—————

you slept particularly well that night but woke up abruptly the next morning as dread filled your gut. you checked your watch as it read a time around ten in the morning.

i slept in! grainville's totally gonna kill me!

quickly you got out of bed and started to get ready until the same sweet smell from yesterday filled your nose bringing you to a halt.

turning you looked over to the table situated in the corner of your room as you caught sight of a familiar teacup and a grey welfare meal box.

you walked on over to the table, the tea was still warm and there was a small note on the top of the box.

'don't worry about sleeping in, i told grainville that you'd be having a lie in. enjoy breakfast. - wriothesley'

you smiled to yourself before setting the little note aside. you didn't even stop to question how he got grainville to obey his orders, the food inside the box smelled too good.

when you opened the grey meal box, you were met with two croissants and a stack of three pancakes topped with maple syrup and berries. your mouth practically started watering at the sight and you wasted no time and dug in.

—————

from then on, your welfare meals improved drastically and you knew it was wriothesley's doing (yet you still wondered how he had managed to). it had been two days since meeting with him that night and you hadn't seen him since.

you brought the teacup with you everyday since then hoping you'd be able to give it back and thank him but you were yet to see him again.

since food wasn't a problem anymore, you were able to work your shifts at the production zone, and you weren't sure if you were imagine things but grainville had been much nicer to you recently. while you worked, he'd tell you to take break any time you wanted.

on the way, you also happened to befriend the bombshell bros, cuistot and laverune.

"what's with the weird teacup (y/n)?"

"oh it's just uh, for a friend?" you said scratching your neck, looking around to find something else to talk about until your eyes landed upon something,

"oh yeah! what's that room?" you asked walking past the doors at the central part of the administrative area, you had passed it a few times but never knew what it was.

"oh that, that's the duke's office." laverune said.

there's a duke here?

"oh yeah," cuistot piped in, "he's basically in charge down here, a real big shot! the last thing you want is to cross paths with him."

subconsciously, you looked down to the teacup in your hand and pondered.

huh... the duke sounds like a big deal yet i haven't seen him before... i guess that's for my own good though

you and laverune dropped cuistot off at the cafeteria so he could work his shift in the kitchen and then headed off to the production zone.

laverune left after around thirty minutes, saying something about how he was hungry and tired yet you stayed, working tirelessly to process widgets. what the fortress needed all of these widgets for was still unknown to you.

while you were working away, you couldn't help but notice a melusine watching you from the corner of your eye.

she looked a tad bit different from the melusines you had seen up on the surface while on your various excursions in fontaine but still had the same cuteness at least. you wondered why a melusine would be down here of all places.

you didnt think much of her at first, not until she came up to you herself.

"hello! you're mx. (y/n), right?" she said waving at you with a wide smile.

you returned with another smile, albeit a bit surprised she had not only approached you but also knew of your name.

"oh, uh yeah that's me! do you need something?" you asked and she nodded.

"my name's sigewenne, i'm the head nurse down here. I’ve been watching you work and was wondering if you'd follow me? i'd like to give you a check up." she inquired, and how could you refuse to such a cute face?

so you ended your shift at the production zone and considering you had nothing else really to do instead, you followed sigwenne.

one thing led to another and now you were laying down in one of the beds of the infirmary.

“mx. (y/n), are you sure you're feeling well?” sigewinne asked as she looked over your state worriedly taking the thermometer from your mouth.

she had run a couple of tests on you, saying you had 'piqued her curiosity'. but now there seemed to be some sort of problem.

"uh yeah i am, why?" you said confused as she shook her head putting down the thermometer.

"you have a temperature of 40°C, im afraid you're going to have to stay here in the infirmary until it goes down."

"wha- but i feel fine!" you sat up all of a sudden as sigewenne ushered you back down.

"don't worry mx. (y/n), i have just the thing!" she said rushing out the room, you sighed sitting up again and resting your back against the head of the bed.

you had placed the teacup down on the floor beside the bed prior to sigewenne's check up, you bent down slightly and picked it up so you could place it in your lap. then you thought about your current predicament.

is it because i was in the production zone for too long?

it was just a habit of yours to work a lot, but you never thought it would end up in you getting a temperature. the thing was you didn't even feel hot. maybe it was because-

"(y/n)?"

your head whipped to the entrance of the infirmary as the familiar voice fell upon your ears.

"wriothesley! where did you go? it's been two days!" you said smiling upon his arrival.

he didn't necessarily answer your question you noticed, but he came over to your bed and pulled a chair out of a desk nearby to sit right by you.

"sigewenne informed me on your state, are you feeling alright?" he said asking you a question in return.

you blinked. sigewenne told him? wasn't she going to get something? why would she tell him of all people?

oh! maybe they're friends?

"oh yeah i'm okay, i honestly don't know what happened..." you laughed slightly looking off to the side.

"you overworked yourself." he sighed, "you don't have to spend all your time in the production zone."

"i know i know... it's just a habit of mine. i guess that's why my boss sent me here to fontaine, to take a break. it's a shame i have to spend some of it down in prison" you explained.

"i see." he said watching your expression and the way your eyebrows furrowed, "do you miss mondstadt?"

"just a bit." you nodded, "i mean i'm going back soon after my sentence but-"

wait a second, i don't remember telling him i came from mondstadt?

but before you could question the fact that he knew where you were from someone else came in.

"your gr- wriothesley, please could i ask you to leave. mx. (y/n) here needs to rest." sigewenne said with her hands on her hips and a pout on her lips.

wriothesley chuckled at her expression before getting out of his chair as you watched him rise, a small frown on your face.

"oh ok. well, thanks for the tea and breakfast a few days ago! it was really really good. here's your cup." you said holding it out for him.

still, i wonder how he managed to get ahold of such nice food down here...

he reached out to receive his cup and you felt his fingers brush against yours sending a jolt of electricity through your entire body causing you to visibly tense up.

"no problem. i'll come visit you again tomorrow." he said with the faintest smile on his face, his eyes not as piercing as they were upon first meeting him.

your breath hitched slightly and you felt your heartbeat start to quicken as you watched him leave the infirmary, eyes still lingering to where he once was. however your actions didn't go unnoticed by a certain melusine.

once he had left, sigwenne came up to you and checked your temperature once more.

"(y/n)! your temperature has gone up again!" she exclaimed bringing you out of your trance.

"o-oh! really? huh..." you said feeling slightly embarrassed, you yourself new the reason as to why that happened.

"here, drink this and your temperature should go down." she said holding out a cup innocently and you received it with a sheepish smile.

"thanks sigewenne." you said taking a massive sip, not expecting the drink to be so bitter with a side of... spiciness? you swallowed it (barely) but starting coughing soon after.

"w-what's in this??" you choked out.

"oh, nothing you need to worry about. everything in there has healing properties." she reassured.

"right... thanks sigewenne." you said handing her back the cup which she took from your hands.

you thought she'd leave you alone but she just stood there, not looking like she's be moving anytime soon. you contemplated whether or not you should ask if she was alright until she spoke up.

"what do you think of wriothesley?" she asked out of nowhere.

you said averting your eyes to the side, trying to get rid of what was in your head prior, "oh he's nice... i mean he's alright i guess?"

the melusine didn't respond after that, so you slowly brought your gaze back onto her only to be startled to see her staring at you with big wide eyes.

you gulped nervously as you gave her a wobbly smile, her stoic expression scaring you, "are you two friends? i mean you told him that i was sick so i figured you must have-"

"do you like him?" she said suddenly cutting you off.

this time it was your turn to widen your eyes as

"of course not! no- wait yes! wait- i mean in a friend way of course! haha... why do you ask?" you said, painfully wincing internally at your stuttering

she didn't say anything at first but simply stared, her eyes boring into you.

"it's ok mx. (y/n), your secret's safe with me!" she said happily as a sudden sense of worry surged through you.

"huh? what do you-"

"you should probably get some rest now, i'll come check on you again tomorrow morning. good night!" she said clasping her hands together and taking her leave.

you were left speechless once again.

—————

as promised, wriothesley came and visited you in the infirmary the next day. but after the events from the previous day you couldn't look at him in the same way.

you told yourself you didn't have a crush on wriothesley, that would be absurd. but for some reason sigewenne seemed convinced you did, as she sorted out her things in the corner of the infirmary she kept giving you glances.

which was terrible because it seemed as if the two of them were friends so if she told him about your 'feelings', you'd be screwed.

it's not like you had a chance with him to begin with, you weren't from fontaine and he probably was. and despite the fact that you two were sent to the fortress around the same time, you had no idea what sort of crime he committed.

now that you thought about it, he was kinda... mysterious.

he was sat beside your bed as you both drank tea in silence, you felt as if it was awkward and didn't know what to say as you looked everywhere but at him.

one time, you accidentally locked eyes with him and immediately looked away embarrassed.

there's no way i have a crush on wriothesley! besides, after my sentence is over i'll never see him again... not that it matters, i don't like him like that!-

"is something bothering you?" he quipped.

your heartbeat quickened again, much to your dismay. the way he had been looking out for you: getting you food, bringing you tea, checking in on you... it was too much for you to handle.

you hadn't even noticed, you were staring at him.

"no!" you said rather loudly coming out of your trance, you didn't even sound convincing to yourself, "nothing's bothering me, nothing's wrong..."

you quickly brought your teacup to your lips and looked down. nonetheless, he slowly nodded at your response as silence welcomed the two of you once more.

"oh yeah! did you know there was a duke down here?" you asked trying to start up some conversation to clear the silence, your talk with cuistot and laverune the day before coming back to you.

he was silent as he looked down to the liquid in his cup, watching the ripples hit the side and gently bounce back. he then nodded.

"oh, you did? i was only told about him yesterday." you said slightly surprised, you had been down here a day longer than wriothesley but he seemed to know way more than you did.

"what's he like? i've never seen him before." you asked as wriothesley looked up in thought but sigewenne came over to the two of you before he could say anything.

"the duke is very hard-working, he's always up to something hence why you probably haven't seen him yet." sigewenne said, a thermometer in her hands which she held out to you.

you received the thermometer and thanked her, "he kinda sounds like my boss. but at least my boss, as stoic as he is, can be nice and funny at times. apparently the duke is someone who should be avoided."

you put the thermometer in your mouth for a while before giving it back to her, she took note of the temperature and scribbled it down. all the while wriothesley frowned at your words.

"i'm sure the duke also has a good sense of humour." he said.

"maybe..." you shrugged.

"the duke also looks after the fortress very well, he's made lots of improvements over the past years to make this place as comfortable as it can be for the inmates here." sigewenne continued "oh! and he really likes drinking tea."

"ooh! i guess you two have that in common huh?" you pointed out looking at wriothesley.

wriothesley took another sip of his cup before speaking up, "i guess we do."

—————

“w-woah, (y/n)! you have loads of credit coupons!” cuistot stammered at the bunch of ‘credit coupons’ you carried.

sigewenne's drink was surprisingly helpful, (despite how weird it tasted) and you only had to stay in the infirmary for a two nights.

the day after, you and the bombshell bros were planning to go to the pankration ring (a place you never knew existed) to watch a match that according to laverune was going to be the ‘fight of the century’.

but before you made your way there you had told them that there was some trash you needed to clear out so they followed you to your room. when you walked out with the bag of credit coupons they’re jaws dropped.

“credit coupons..? i thought they were just pieces of paper. grainville at the production zone kept giving them to me for working.” you said stopping in your tracks and looking down at the coupons in your hand.

“you’re practically rich! with that many credit coupons you could do all sorts!" laverune exclaimed, the two noticed the confused expression still displayed on your face and decided to explain the whole coupon system.

"...so, this is the currency down here?" you asked in shock.

"basically, yeah!" cuistot said.

wow, i never knew...

once you were done putting away your coupons the three of you headed for the pankration ring. laverune suggested you bring some coupons so you could bet on which fighter you thought would win, so you did.

whilst you walked, you listened in on cuistot and laverune's conversation on who they thought would win.

"'le grappleur' is surely going to win! he is reigning champion for a reason." cuistot said and laverune shook his head.

"oh come on, 'demon horde' has it in the bag. the other day, he even beat 'killer hook'! that makes them tied!" laverune argued.

just what kinda names are these...

"who do you think's going to win (y/n)?" cuistot asked turning to you, you shrugged.

"i don't know... 'le grappleur' maybe?" you said taking a complete guess. laverune humphed disapprovingly.

"well, the duke's going to watch the match as well and i heard he's betting on 'demon horde'!" he said crossing his arms.

oh yeah, the duke, maybe i'll finally see what he looks like?

"but (y/n)'s especially close with his grace so they can just get him to change his mind, bam!" cuistot stated as you raised a brow.

"um, i am?" you asked.

cuistot laughed, "it's not often the duke sits to have a meal with anyone, or visit anyone in the infirmary. why didn't you tell us?" he said only arising more confusion inside you.

he did? but the only other person i've talked to is-

"i believe i heard my name?" a familiar voice spoke up from behind you three causing you all to turn around.

just as you thought, it was wriothesley, you smiled at him feeling your heart beat quicken. you were about to say something until cuistot and laverune beat you to it.

"y-your grace!" they both exclaimed simultaneously bowing slightly as you still stood upright, eyes darting between wriothesley and the pair.

"huh? who... 'your grace'? what?" you were confused until it finally clicked, your eyes widening, "wait, you mean... you're the duke?"

wriothesley smirked at you and folded his arms, "took you long enough."

your mouth was slightly agape as you simply stared at him utterly dumbfounded stumbling to find the right words, "w-what? since when?!"

"oh i dont know, a couple of years ago?" he shrugged nonchalantly.

cuistot and laverune noticed you two were conversing and used it was a chance to slip away off to the pankration ring, leaving you with 'his grace'.

everything suddenly made sense. why he was able to get grainville to listen to him, all the food he was able to deliver you.

"why... why didn't you tell me? and here i thought you were an inmate like me this whole time..." you said bringing your palm to your forehead feeling like an idiot.

"i'll be honest i found it quite entertaining that you didn't know who i was." he said causing you to roll your eyes, he took a step closer so that he was gazing down at you.

"how are you feeling by the way?" he asked, his tone becoming a bit softer making your heart beat even faster.

you sighed, still not having fully accepted the fact that you had been hanging around the duke the entire time, "i'm fine, sigewinne said i should just take it easy from now on."

he hummed smiling slightly, "that's good."

a comfortable silence fell over the two of you as you merely looked at each other. you admired his features not noticing that he was doing the same until he cleared his throat and looked off to the side.

"your friends seemed to have already left so, would you like to head to the pankration ring together?" he suggested and you beamed at him.

"sure!"

—————

after figuring out who wriothesley really was, you decided it would be best if you discarded your feelings for him. your chances with him had gone from about five percent to absolute zero.

you only had three days of your sentence left anyway, but you weren't looking forward to going back. after all, you ended up liking the fortress of meropide life much more than you had expected.

at the moment, you and wriothesley were having your daily tea break in his office. him sat at his desk going through some papers as you sat on the other side of the desk, reading one of the many books from his shelf.

"you know, i could always shorten your sentence. you could go back today if you wanted." he suggested breaking the silence.

"yes but," you started averting your eyes "i still want to spend a bit more time with cuistot and laverune that's all."

and you too obviously you thought but would never dare to say aloud.

wriothesley hummed in response, "ah yes, you're little friend group." he paused for a bit, "are you sure that's the only reason?"

"uh, i'll miss sigewenne too, she's really sweet." you said, subconsciously taking your eyes off your book and instead watching him. it was a terrible habit of yours lately.

"i see." he said rather plainly, "speaking of sigewenne, we both had a chat earlier today and she told me some, interesting things."

you froze at this and immediately shot ur eyes back down to your book, wriothesley this time noticing as he moved his work to one side watched your expression closely with a smirk.

what? there's no way sigewenne would've told him... right? i never admitted it aloud!

"that's nice, what kind of things?" you said still looking down, eyes scanning over the pages 10x quicker than before (the words weren't even going through your head).

"not much, but she did tell me about you." he said as you felt your heart sink.

"o-oh really? by the way this book is really interesting." you said losing where you were as you flipped ahead a couple of pages, a desperate attempt to change the subject.

he watched your reaction contently, leaning back in his chair with his arms folded, he then shrugged.

"maybe it is, i haven't read it yet." he said, "anyway sigewenne told me that-"

you pulled your own chair back and got up, with the book in hand you rushed to the side to go put it back on the shelf. there was no way you were going to let him finish his sentence and humiliate you.

"i just remembered! i need to go find cuistot to try the new recipe he made!" you said getting up from our chair and going over to the bookshelf. you went on your tip toes to place the book back before turning on your heel, ready to dash towards the door.

however when you turned you were met with wriothesley's figure standing in front of you with a lazy smile, blocking you form going any further.

"sigwenne said that you liked me." he leaned down so he was face to face with you, your lips merely inches away from his and a teasing glint in his eyes, "is that true?"

your eyes widened in shock and horror, your pupils darting around everywhere frantically, "uh- i um, i-"

that alone was enough to provide him an answer asall your muffled words came to a halt when he brought his right hand and held your chin up, connecting his lips with yours.

at first you didn't kiss back, you couldn't kiss back, utterly paralysed from the shock. his smooth lips against your own causing your mind to blank out.

does he... like me back??

you couldn't help it, you were a hopeless fool. you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck and kissed back, feeling a smile emerge from his lips, you felt as if you were dreaming.

his hand on your chin found its way to your cheek as the other wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you even closer to his body deepening the kiss in the process.

eventually after what felt like years, you both pulled away breathlessly. an irresistible smile creeping up both your faces.

"i think i'm going to have to lengthen your sentence." he said, his hand resting on the side of your face as his thumb caressed your cheek.

"really? what for?" you asked playing along leaning into his touch.

he leaned in once more, planting a small kiss on your lips before pulling back and flashing you a grin.

"for stealing my heart."

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inner-viper · 20 days

Text

Sex life before having children vs. after having children (Mini Ver.)

Hello, WILL BE DOING LIVE TAROT READINGS ON TIKTOK AT 6pm EST TODAY (4/3/2024). PLEASE JOIN IF INTERESTED

@innerviper on TIKTOK

Will be answering free yes/no for the beginning. You can check out the prices on here! https://innerviper.com/products/live-tiktok-readings

Trigger Warnings for all piles.

Pile 1

This pile has heavy energy in their sex life prior to having children. It’s like your sex life will go through tremendous changes. There is a dark energy in this pile, you may be inclined to darker sexual kinks. You both enjoy having fun with playing with pushing it, it’s a bit complicated because it doesn’t seem like you believe it’s extreme but to others it is. Anyways, the focus on your sex life is to explore heavy burdens that you may have once held onto. This pile could roleplay CNC.

Overall, you both look for answers in each other. This tends to happen when you have sex with them, you both enjoy exploring the different aspects of each other. There will be moments where you both are angry with each other and will take it out on each other but then makeup. There is a lot of arguing and make-up sex. Some people in this pile can have depression and you have sex to relieve yourself from past heartbreaks. Lastly, there seems to be a strong theme of letting yourself be lost in someone that you may not enjoy being with.

Now for when you have children, there will be a contrast in the connection. It seems like it becomes more deeply connected because of your relationship with your children and partner. There is this general energy of wanting to have fun but seriously passionate sex, it will start to become more “vanilla” because of time constraints, it will be difficult at first when you both have children. Overall, your sex life is not bad just difficult to maintain.

Pile 2

Prior to having sex you will be having a lot of steamy adventures that are kind of risky. It’s like you both like the thrill of it all and how the excitement rules you both up. There will be a few times where you want to feel like there is a strong shift in dynamics. Some days you guys will feel like being softer rather than rough.

Overall, there is something’s that you both will keep secret because of how taboo it is to delve into certain things. You both will share a lot of similar kinks and interests in general. Sex does seem to be an important part of this connection for the both of you. You both may have even discussed of potential threesomes, and fantasies that you will want to make come true.

Now for when you children, the shift is stark because you guys started to settle down. There seems to be a sense of missing some of the risks you guys took but because you have children, it has become more difficult to maintain that. You both will continue to have an amazing sex life though, it’s like you both manage to find some time to be together.

Overall, your sex life has not diminished but it will have its ups and downs. Some months you both will not be able to maintain long sessions because of work, and children. You both take your responsibilities seriously and you both don’t get lost in sex at all. Although, in the beginning of the relationship it may have been an obsession or hyper fixation. I am seeing graphs that go up and down!

Pile 3

Carrying many things will be hard to make this relationship begin in their sex life. It’s like either one of you carry some weight regarding your sexuality. I feel like you both will take things slow and let things flow naturally. There is a sense of not wanting to emotionally connect but connections emotionally. There is a conflict in feelings and of the mind. Your sex life is important to the both of you but there is troubles in the beginning.

It seems to progress positively but slowly. When you both have sex, its like two people coming into one. There will be an act of self exploration, you both will venture into things that you may have been interested in but shy away because of stigma surrounding it. There could be shame surrounding you at times, but the more you grow older and confident in yourself, is when it starts to calm down.

Now after you have children, your sex life will be on pause until you feel like you are ready to get active. This may happen for months but I am sensing that you have limited energy and you try to conserve it. It’s like your children took away all of your remaining energy. It will be difficult to get back on track, but with the right support and with the help of those around you. It will become better and you will focus on building a relationship with yourself again. It’s important to not get lost in someone else.

There will be a time where you will have the resources to not worry. It’s not like you are alone in this relationship. When you both manage to take care of things, your sex life becomes cute? Honestly, it’s like having your first time again but even better than before. You both will not be afraid to express yourselves and will take control to keep the spark alive in the bedroom. Overall, it will be amazing and a beautiful journey.

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moonbeamwritings · 1 year

Text

making a house a home

inspired by this post *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

pairing: hawks x gn!reader

wc: 1.3k

There’s a loneliness that clings to every surface of Keigo’s apartment. It lingers in the slight dip on one side of the couch and not the other. It stakes its claim in the one chair at his dining table that's always pulled out while the others remain unoccupied. His bed is much too big, too; cold and empty, and like so many other spots in his home, untouched on one side.

His walls are bare, save for the odd photo here and there; one frame in his bedroom, a few in the hallway, one or two on the wall in the living room. It’s a feeble attempt to prove to himself that there are people in his life, though when he racks his brain, Keigo struggles to conjure the names of anyone he considers a true friend, anyone he considers family. At the end of the day, the pictures scattered about are just that — pictures. His apartment is still empty; his heart still yearns.

Every night, with exhaustion weighing him down and a soreness in his joints, Keigo comes home to near deafening silence, to dark rooms and cold spaces. And every night, despite the ache in his ribs, he calls out a chipper, “Honey, I’m home!” A call he knows will go unanswered, like the final, resolute trill of a species on the verge of extinction.

Everything changes when he meets you.

It’s a typical morning in the middle of January, and the streets are packed despite the chill that clings to the air, despite the threat of snow, and Keigo takes the extra time to walk to the coffee place down the street from his agency instead of fly. It kills a little time, and it’s nice to let the cool air gently fill his lungs instead of whip into his face in flight.

And just as he rounds the final corner, he slams into your smaller frame. You stumble, bag toppling off your shoulder, contents spilling out and onto the sidewalk.

“Oop,” he says, steadying you on your feet before stooping down to help you collect some of your things. “Sorry about that. Wasn’t watching where I was going.”

You smile, a casual, sweet thing that makes Keigo’s face feel warm. You’re pretty. “No harm done. I wasn’t looking either.”

With the last of your stuff thrown back into your bag, you offer him one more of those pretty smiles and a kind “thank you” before you’re disappearing up the street.

Keigo lingers for a moment, watching you until you get swallowed by the crowd before he, too, turns and continues on his way. By the time he orders his coffee and his day begins in earnest, he’s forgotten all about his earlier encounter.

That is, until he’s on his lunch break. His stomach, and the ice that clings to his bones despite his jacket and thick gloves, has guided him to the nearest ramen shop, on the hunt for something warm to fill his belly. And once he’s in line, he catches sight of a familiar face — you.

“You again,” you tease, fixing him with that same, friendly grin. You lean a little closer to whisper, “Am I on some watchlist I don’t know about?”

A smirk graces his features as he ducks to whisper back conspiratorially, “Oh yeah.” He pats the pocket on the left-hand side of his coat. “Got your wanted poster right here.”

“Damn,” you mutter, lifting your free hand in mock surrender. “You got me.”

“But I’m a nice guy,” he reminds you with a resolute nod. “So I’ll at least let you eat lunch first.”

You sigh dreamily, batting your lashes at him dramatically before dropping a warm hand against his shoulder. It damn near burns a hole through his jacket, and he can feel the heat from it travel up to the tips of his ears. “You’re so kind.”

A smirk. “I try.”

The conversation lulls for only a moment as your order number gets called, and his follows shortly after. You stand shoulder to shoulder as you both scan the restaurant for an open table. It’s the lunch rush, so the place is jam-packed with patrons.

You steady your tray in a firm grip. “It looks like that’s the only table open.” Keigo follows your eyes over to a small table nestled in the corner by the window. “Do you wanna, maybe, sit together?”

Keigo knows that he should probably refuse. He can imagine the headlines and social media threads now — No. 2 Hero on a Quest for Love, Has Pro-Hero Hawks Finally Been Snatched Up? — but as he watches you shift your weight from foot to foot, eyeing him with what he can only describe as a sheepish smile, he can’t bring himself to deny you.

“Sure, lead the way.”

After that, one chance encounter leads to a dinner date one weekend and a movie date the next. Before suddenly you’re spending nights at his apartment and he’s cooking you breakfast in the morning.

It’s tough at first. Guys like him don’t usually date. They hide and work and yearn until they’ve given the universe all they have. Until there’s nothing left. Keigo’s line of work doesn’t allow him the luxury of relaxation, the comfort of being... normal. It’s a delicate balance, protecting you and spending time with you, one that takes weeks to find. But when he does, Keigo starts to feel a little less lonely. Slowly, he starts to realize just how easily you’ve wormed your way into his life, into his heart.

Your shoes fit so perfectly next to his, right by the door. You snuggle into his side on the couch, perching yourself in the chair across from his at the dinner table. Keigo finds that he sleeps so much better with you nuzzled beneath his chin, even if you try to hog the sheets. You’re occupying spaces that have never been occupied before, exploring uncharted territory.

You leave your mark on his home when your clothes start to join his in the closet, when your toothbrush sits next to his in the bathroom. You place your succulents on his windowsill and buy a fresh vase of flowers for the dining table every two weeks.

Walls that were once barren fill, and they fill quickly. “It’s sad, Keigo,” you’d told him with a pout, staring at the blank canvas that he calls his living room wall. “You deserve better than this.”

His chest floods with affection when he comes home one evening to see that you’ve set up what you call a gallery wall. A collection of different artworks and prints and photographs litter his wall, their sizes and frames varying to draw his eye to each one. They fit together like puzzle pieces.

You were right, he’d always deserved better than those barren walls, than his cold, lonely apartment. And now that you’ve shown him what warmth feels like, Keigo knows he’ll never stop clinging to it.

His favorite thing of all, though, is getting to come home to you.

“Honey, I’m home!” Keigo calls, and almost reflexively he braces for silence, one he’s grown so accustomed to, but that cursed silence never comes. Instead, the sweet, familiar sound of your voice is there to greet him.

“‘M in the kitchen!”

The smell of food wafts through the air, radiating through every corner of his apartment as Keigo approaches you. He wraps his arms around your waist and squeezes before pulling you back towards his chest.

You stop what you’re doing to lean back into his hold, curling a gentle hand under his jaw and leaning up to capture his lips with your own. When you pull away, Keigo can feel your grin against his lips. “Welcome home.”

And, oh, how his heart soars at the sound.

You’ve made his house a home, your home, and Keigo’s certain that he’ll never be able to repay you for what you’ve done for him, for how you’ve changed his life. But with you in his arms, staring up at him with adoration glimmering in your pretty eyes, Keigo decides that a gentle kiss and a soft, but earnest, “I love you” is as good a place to start as any.

#hawks x reader #hawks imagine #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo imagine #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha imagine #mha imagine #bnha fluff #hawks fluff #this is my first hawks fic pls be gentle

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hoshigray · 9 months

Text

Swim in Waves, Chill in Caves ༄ S. Geto

"I went to the beach with my friends!! Only for me to...run into Gojo again!!? And to make things crazier, I met his attractive best friend who heard "so much" about me??!! Thanks to Gojo's nonstop blabber-mouth, Geto was interested in me in ways I would rather not be known for!"

A/n: Yessir, three for three, it's time for the third part of my summer series!! It's now Geto's turn to have a piece of Y/n, and, like Gojo, this is my first time writing something for Geto! In case you aren't aware, this fic is linked with Gojo's fic as the plot from his fic propels the actions of what's going to transpire in Geto's narrative. I hope you enjoy this, and tysm for 1.7k followers, giving each and every single one of ya a hug (unless you don't like hugs, then I send you finger guns, pew pew!!)

Also, this is connected to the Gojo fic previously released. So if there are references that have you like "???," you're free to go read that fic first before diving straight into this one. And yeah, without further ado, please enjoy this piece~☆

Series m. list!! This entry has been updated along w/ its contents.

Cw: Geto x fem! reader - explicit content, so minors DNI - age difference (the reader is at least in their 20s; Geto is around early 30s) - oral (m! + f! receiving) - heavy depictions of a blowjob - semi-handjob - sex at an open area; cave by the beach - 69+ doggy style/backshots + missionary position - unprotected sex but Geto doesn't shoot inside (PSA: wrap it up, or get the fuck up) - fucking while the sun sets, lmaooo - pet names (baby, cutie, sweetheart, sweetie, princess) - clitoral play (swiping and pinching) - Gojo is here so expect some silliness.

Wc: 7.2k (7.9k with bonus scene...I stayed up til 6 am finishing this)

Dear Diary...It has come to my attention that I've seen you this summer way more than I anticipated. Truthfully, I never expected to need you again. While life for me is unpredictable right now, the only thing I can turn to is you...

"Hey, Megumi!" Your body jerks at a familiar voice. "Have you seen Y/n?"

"They said they went to grab something real quick." Another familiar voice. "Now help me with this cooler, Itadori."

"Right, on it!"

It's now coming down to the middle of summer. An entire month and a half of internship has kept you busy, constantly building new skills within your career exploration. In addition, you gain new skills and insights from your colleagues. And now that your practicum is almost over, you can't help but feel a rise in accomplishment.

So, how do you celebrate? By going to the beach with your best buds! Oh yes, the gang — Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara — who are all proud of all you've done this summer thought it's best to go out and hang out this weekend! You weren't one to turn down a lovely day at the beach with your friends, so you packed up your cutest bathing suit, hopped in Nobara's car with the rest, and the four of you drove to enjoy the day together.

With the smell of the ocean hitting your nostrils and the rays of the sun bathing your skin, the day was going great as you and your friends enjoyed every moment of it!

That is until during the delightful moment that you bumped into a familiar face — a face you didn't think you'd ever see again, not with your friends present at the very least. And it's thanks to said familiar face you've once again stumbled upon an unpredictable dilemma.

So much so that you are hiding from your friends, inside a guest room at a beach house, writing in your diary. And yes, said beach house doesn't belong to you, not even your friends. So how did you end up in some random person's estate? Well, leave it to your pen and paper to retell what conspired today.

Firstly, my friends and I just finished lunch at this seafood restaurant (NTS: they offer superb seafood boils). Having walked along the boardwalk for about half an hour, it was time to head for the beach...

The sun was blazing hot outside, yet the ocean breeze kept heat bearable. Many people were at the beach this time of year, families building sandcastles together and surfers riding the active waves. Not to mention the many children bringing life to the setting by playing around in the shallow tides.

You and your friends were able to find a nice, comfortable place to put your stuff at. Before swimming, the four of you figured it'd be great to stretch your bodies around and play some beach volleyball! There was only one problem: other families and athletes had taken all the nets, and none of your brought one of your own (plus they're expensive). So what do you do? Use what ya got and just pass the ball!

"I got it!" Yuuji shouts as he dives to prevent the ball from hitting the sand, propelling it up for Nobara to set up for you.

"It's yours, Megumi!" you call out the raven-haired friend who digs the ball for Itadori to pass.

Five minutes become ten, and ten minutes become fifteen. Before you know it, thirty minutes of constant back and forth between the volleyball has you all engrossed in the game, completely forgetting about the body of water that is waiting for y'all to participate. Although, you all were having way too much fun to stop.

Well, until Nobara jumps and spikes the ball a little too hard and hits Itadori right in the face, the ball flying further away from your direction. You call out to say you'll get it while the brunette argues with the salmon-haired other ("Nobara, you did that on purpose!" "Oh, shut up. Let me see your face, ya big baby.")

Your eyes never leave the ball as you run to catch it from the air. I got it, I got it!

However, you should've paid attention to what's in front of you rather than above. Because had you done so, you would've noticed the dark-haired man who jumped up to catch the ball mid-air. Shocking you for a split second before you come bulldozing to another person, bringing you both down to the sandy ground.

You assess no sense of pain on your end and then realize you're on top of the man you came crashing towards. So apologies are quickly thrown to the other below you while you slowly get up. "Oh my God, I'm so, so sorry about that! I should've looked where I was going!"

"No, no, you're fine..." the man you notice has snow-white hair mumbles under his breath, taking off his dark circle shades to flick off any sand. "Damn, you got a strong tackle; someone outta scout you for a scholarship."

The comment was meant to bring humor to the situation. You stifle a giggle. "Please, I really am sorry abo—" Before you could finish that sentence, your eyes start to take in all of the man's appearance — whose tall figure you're still crawled up on. White hair and lashes, beautiful blue eyes, tall, lean build with chiseled abs I want to rub against—HOLD THE FUCKING PHONE!!!

You remove yourself from the male and stand to look at him from above. Even with the blue Hawaiian shirt opened up to proudly display his pecs and abdomen and the black and purple swimming trunks, the surname you said was the only candidate for who you were looking at. "GOJO!!??"

The man you have spoken with on an online dating app not too long ago. The man you went on a blind date. The man you slept with on the same night. Satoru Gojo peeks up at you before putting his sunglasses back on, sky blue eyes widen with recognition, and a cheeky smile creeps up on his face. "Well, well, fancy seeing you again, princess."

The familiar pet name causes your face and ears to be covered in an agonizing heat beyond the sun's authority, especially when the white-haired man stands up and dusts off the sand on his shirt and swimwear. His height that once had you taken aback the first meeting, doing so the second time around, and of course, the fucker had to have his abs out for you to gawk. "W-What are you doing here?" Your perplexity was still adamant in your question.

"I'm here to enjoy the nice summer sun, aren't you~" he replies with his usual chipper attitude. "Actually, though, I always come down to spend a weekend with my close friends — it's kinda like a tradition we do every year. One of them has a beach house not too far from here."

You blink. "Close...friends?"

"Yo, Satoru," another voice behind Gojo hooks your attention. "You know this person?"

The man who spoke was another fairly tall man — not absolutely towered by Gojo, but fair enough for you to notice the slight difference. Long jet black, draped hair kept in the back with bangs that partially cover his left eye. A matching Hawaiian shirt with a red color (and, unfortunately, also exhibiting his stomach and pectorals) and black and red trunks complete the look. And he's holding the volleyball that pummeled poor Yuuji's face.

You only stare at him as Gojo does the introductions. "Hmm? Oh, Y/n. This is my best friend, Geto. You know, the one I told you about."

Geto, Geto...The name is repeated until it rings a bell, and everything around you comes to a standstill. Suguru Geto, the best friend of Satoru Gojo since high school. Just when this day couldn't get any worse, you not only bump into your one-night stand but meet his infamous partner in crime from their days of youth. And worse, he's just as [if not more] attractive than the slender snow-haired fellow!

"Wait! He's THE best friend??" You exclaim, and Gojo happily confirms your suspicions.

"Yeah, that's him! The one whose hair I barfed on when I chugged that beer at the house party and gave me a weed brownie as payback!"

"Is that story the only thing you want people to know me for?" Geto glares at his friend, but the taller other only shrugs off the complaint. Geto sighs and turns to you, and then his brows draw upward while surveying your figure. "Y/n...You mean the one who—"

"Hey, Y/n!" Your stomach drops to the ground remembering you didn't come to the beach alone, turning around to see the other three make their way to you. The salmon-haired man, his face red from Nobara's spike, resumes speaking. "What's the holdup?"

You try to answer until Gojo cuts you off with a joyful salutation. "Megumi!"

Your raven-haired friend doesn't return the exact manner, greeting with a scowl. "Gojo..."

What the fuck!!? "You two know each other??"

"Of course! Me and Megumi have been pals since he was in his elementary years." The high school teacher informs you as if it was a known fact, feeding more to your stupefied mind. "Known his dad for years; we're practically family friends!"

"More like an annoying uncle..." Megumi rolls his eyes before turning to face you. "Don't get mixed up with this guy, Y/n. He may seem like a likable guy. But he's just a carefree clown who doesn't take things seriously. Both out and in private life." Based on the emphasis on that last assertion, Megumi is aware of Gojo's philandering activities. You nod at your friend's advice, but the gulp to ease the uncomfortable bob in your throat is difficult to swallow. I'm afraid that's too little too late...

Gojo places a hand on his heart and conveys a faux hurt expression. "Jeez, Megumi, your words cut deep, you know...Besides," your body goes rigid when the tall man wraps an arm around your shoulders. "Me and Y/n have already been introduced before."

"Hm? How do you know this dude, Y/n?" Nobara is the one to ask the question for the other two, and now you're pushed into a predictable corner you couldn't foresee coming today of all days.

The reason why you went on a blind date with Gojo in the first place is because of a dumb bet, thanks to Nobara. And after said date, you told the brunette about it — minus mentioning that you went with Gojo. The only thing you noted to her was that the person's name started with an "S" and the last with a "G" ("Wow, can you be vague enough, Y/n?"). Nothing about their physical appearance other than the guy being tall. Now, with the said guy who fits the criteria slouching close with his arm around you, the countdown to your eventual, embarrassing demise begins.

You turn to the tall man, a mutual signal for aid. But before Gojo could say anything, the other male behind him intervenes — "Y/n met Gojo through me," Geto admits disingenuous. "We were at a diner, and we saw them walking by and got to talk with them for a while.

Everyone turns to look at the dark-haired man, you and Gojo bearing a look of confusion. But you don't say anything; neither of you does when Geto gives you two a quick wink for reassurance.

The trio stares at the two men before Nobara walks up and takes the volleyball from Geto's hands. "Is that right...Well, Mr. Man Bun—"

"Geto."

"Yeah, whatever," the correction doesn't faze her. "Since you and your friend here seem to be acquaintances with Y/n, how about you come play some ball with us. I saw you jump to catch the ball, so don't complain about some old man bones."

You squeak from the boisterous laugh Gojo lets out, "Ohoho, don't start something you can't finish. Ever heard of respecting your elders?"

The brunette grins, "Nah, fuck that."

"Hmph, that's what I like to hear." Finally, Gojo lets go of you and walks with the three to play by your spot. A giant sigh isn't enough to convey the emotional distress you're experiencing, especially now that your one-night stand is now socially fitting in with your best friends.

So much for acquaintances...

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Two hours fly by excruciatingly slow because now that Gojo has met your friends and has been spending time with them, you can see that they start to like and adapt to his friendly attitude (can't say the same for Megumi, the raven-haired friend taking his presence in a tolerable form). Perhaps hadn't you known the man prior, you would've felt the same. Unfortunately, though, this is the exact man that had your tipsy ass bouncing on his cock in a hotel room after drinking three cocktails. Memories of that night have your face transition to an insufferable heat.

To make matters worse, Gojo had the brilliant idea of bringing you guys to the residence he and Geto were staying at. A simple yet lovely and cozy two-story beach house by the boardwalk that his other close friend owns, overlooking the beautiful ocean. Said friend — Shoko Ieiri, a well-acclaimed surgeon — welcomed the four young adults to her space, telling them to make themselves home. And when Yuuji opens his big dumb mouth saying that the four of you haven't checked in to a hotel yet, the older woman insists you stay in her spare rooms on the bottom floor! Because any friend of the snow-haired idiot is a friend of hers.

So now your turmoil grows tenfold, seeing your friends getting closer and closer to Gojo's inner circle, the pit of your stomach stirring into an uncomfortable swirl of emotions. If you hadn't met the man before this trip, you'd enjoy being in the same boat as your friends and not kicking yourself repeatedly as your two worlds collide unintentionally.

You sigh heavily, watching Yuuji and Nobara play Uno with Gojo and Shoko at the kitchen island while Megumi and Geto discuss themselves on the living area couch. Figuring you might need some fresh air, you get up and exit the relaxing home to enter the back porch, the sun's heat greeting your air-conditioned skin back in its natural warmth.

You sit on the rocking chair facing the oceanfront, the gorgeous view of the body of water for you to see. You close your eyes as you rock yourself, and the summer breeze brushing against your skin puts your body into a calm trance. Being outside helps you collect your thoughts in this jarring situation. It's evident now that this moment with yourself was necessary to ease the mental gymnastics you've been experiencing since before you came to this beach house.

So in tune with the quiet surroundings around you that you almost sink into your tranquil state. Almost. Until you hear the door open, snapping your eyes open to see whoever it is that decided to disrupt your personal reflection. And you silently gasp at the man who pays you a visit — Geto.

"Hey," his soft tone smooth like butter, inviting himself into your space as he sits in the rocking chair parallel to you, blocking the ocean view with his appearance. "I figured you'd still be out here; your friends were looking for you, and you've been sitting here for about ten whole minutes."

"I have!?" You chirp at the fact, to which the man chuckles and nods to confirm. "Huh...I didn't notice. I was just enjoying the silence, I guess."

"Hmm, I get it," the dark-haired man hums at your answer, then looks around the porch. "I don't blame you; with a view and place like this, I'd be out here all the time too."

By nodding, you agree. "You're extremely blessed to be friends with Ms. Ieiri. Get to spend time with her and Gojo at this wonderful beach house."

"Pssh, I'd say I'm more lucky to be a friend of Shoko's than with Satoru," the light chuckle he lets out activates a small smile from you. "You've already heard stories of me and him being roommates in college, barfing on my hair and such."

"Yes, I have, and I'm on your side wholeheartedly. I'd get back at him too, from all the stupid pranks and stuff he's put you through." Your agreement has the older man laugh some more. "But, I can tell Gojo you are close, having been together through thick and thin...Oh! And, I guess I have to thank you for your help back on the beach; your excuse about me meeting you two at a diner."

Geto leans and rocks with the rocking chair while his dark eyes are on you. "No problem. I figured your friends wouldn't know about your date with him. He's told me all about it, so I just mixed some words around to make it sound plausible for your friends."

You just nod and croon to his response. Until your brows furrow and you look straight at him. "Wait, what do you mean 'all about it'?"

You watch his eyes narrow slightly, the uneasiness in your stomach returning to haunt you. "I mean what it means. He mentioned every detail — from your cute outfit when he picked you up to the fun dinner you had at the diner. And..." The grin on Geto's face only exacerbates the feeling of dread that was once gone. "I'm sure you know the rest."

"The rest?" you gulp.

"The rest."

Sure enough, before you could express anguish to the man before you, the door to the back porch opened again with vigor. And the one behind it is the person you didn't want to see right now, or else you just might strangle that playful smile off his stupidly charming peachy face. Gojo exclaims, "There ya are! Shoko ordering takeout while your friends are finding a movie to watch, then we'll eat some s'mores around the fire pit when it gets dark out. Come inside Y/n~"

Geto only watches your adorable face harbor an expression that could only have Death itself clutch its pearls. But not wanting to do anything crass, you take a deep breath and get up from your rocking chair. "Umm, I'll pass on that. I was thinking of just walking around the boardwalk, maybe swimming in the waves while the sun's still up. Wanna come along, Mr. Geto?"

The sudden invitation takes him aback, but the man rises from his chair. "Sure, I'm down for that."

"Ehhhh, you're goin' without me?" Gojo exhibits a pouty face that doesn't work on you.

"Sorry, Gojo; just stay here and be hospitable. My friends seem to like you, anyway. Plus, I don't feel like dealing with you right now..." you mumbled that final part for only you to hear, excusing yourself past the white-haired other so you could grab your shoes from inside the beach house. And Geto only observes the interaction quietly as it baffles his best friend, who turns to him and points in your direction.

"What did I do?" is his question. And it gets more confusing to him when Geto only follows you back inside, leaving the conversation with a smirk.

"What didn't you do, Satoru?"

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"And then, when he was out like a light, I dumped the whole thing on him."

"No way, Geto!"

"Way." The man's smile broadens as he watches you fail to hide your laughter behind your hands. "It's what he gets for resetting my alarms and making me miss my oral exam. Plus, he ate my entire cereal box I hadn't used yet."

"So you thought the best way to get payback was to dump a whole basin full of spoiled milk and cigarette ashes on him while he was sleeping?"

"You know when you say it like that," he cocks his head. "I probably should've pissed in it, too." You playfully hit the older man in a fit of wheezed laughter, and he joins you in entertaining his silliness.

You and Geto have been out for quite some time. Your agenda was just comprised of taking a nice quick walk around the area and swimming to cool your mind from Gojo, and then you'd return in a more calm slate. What you didn't foresee was Geto taking up your offer to come along. And, you have to admit, he's been great company for you.

Not only did he give you a mini tour around the area, showing you all the little local shops and places to eat that he recommended to try. But he also wanted to join you in your swim, discarding his Hawaiian shirt entirely to the sandy ground and exposing his beautiful upper body. You did tell him that he didn't have to while trying not to drool over his gorgeous abs, but your concerns didn't waiver his decision. "I'm still wearing my trunks for a reason, cutie." When he uses that nickname on you, let him do as he wishes.

The two of you swim in the calm ocean, enjoying the comforting feeling of the water and play fighting with Geto anytime he'd splash water your way. Call it childish, but you were enjoying yourself. Enjoying him being around.

Soon the sun goes down, and the sky is painted in a stunning array of colors as it sets. Not too far from the shore, Geto treats you to a small ice cream shop that sells notorious homemade ice cream, and he takes you to one of his favorite secret spots. With one hand with a cup of your favorite ice cream and a plastic spoon in the other, you and the raven-haired man watch the sunset in a cave and talk amongst yourselves. Small waves crashing on the sandy and rocky front fills the empty cave with a comfortable atmosphere.

"Unbelievable," you say through tiny giggles. "You're no better than Gojo; both of you were insufferable."

"We still are," he takes another spoonful of his ice cream. "Even as adults, we're still the same intolerable duo who managed to get college diplomas."

You laugh some more at his joke. "I still find it hard to believe that he's a teacher and you a district attorney." The man only shrugs while finishing his ice cream. "But, honestly, it's kinda nice knowing you guys never changed through the years. Still the same no matter what."

"Yeah, I'm still a slick, sly bastard, and he'll always be the blue-eyed sheep that doesn't know when to shut up."

You glance to the side to look at him, staring at the open entrance of the cave where the sun is covered by clouds in its descent to the horizon. Your eyes gradually peer from his handsome face down to his well-sculpted physique, the sun's warm glow painting his skin beautifully. You've noted this before, but Geto is a remarkably attractive man.

It's seen by the structure of his face, his olive skin contrasting the long draped hair that goes past his shoulders. His black eyes make you feel as if you're staring at an endless void, captivating enough that you sense him seeing through you. And his black gauge earrings stand him out from the crowd, but they fit perfectly with his personality and body.

He's so hot is what you think to yourself, but it's a thought that has you quickly assess what the hell you're doing. And when your eyes go back up to his face, you see that he's looking dead at you, eyes narrowed with a guileful smile. You turn away in shame, for looking longer than necessary and for thinking such indecent thoughts about the best friend of your one-night stand. You are not about to do this right now, Y/n. Pull yourself together!

"Uhh—Ahem, speaking of that not knowing when to shut up," you cough to steer back into conversation. "I can't believe Gojo would go into such detail about our date. Especially...that."

The man shrugs again. "I mean, that's just how we've rolled; I tell him things about my life, and he tells me about his — including his playboy love life. Besides, I'm sure you have moments you share with your buddies."

"True, but..." you groan with your left hand on your face. "I'd rather not be known for explicit things I've done. And what's worse, having to see you — his best friend — and you know about me from the date two weeks prior is just adding salt to the injury.

Geto doesn't say anything right away, just watching you experience hopelessness so he can find the proper words to express it. "I get it, kinda how I don't like him telling stories of me to people I don't know...However," his hand steadily moves from the rocky surface to your right hand, and he sees your shoulders jerk at the action. "I'd be lying if I said I'm not kinda glad to hear about you."

Your breath hitches at his words, glancing back and forth to his hand sliding across yours and his face. He resumes.

"To be frank with you, I've never met any of the people Satoru's hooked up with, nor did I ever care to. So you can imagine me being perplexed seeing you in person. And to my surprise," his slender fingers pry to intertwine with yours, and you allow him. "After hanging out with you today, I'm seeing what Satoru sees in you. You're very breathtaking."

Geez, he's a smooth talker, too, huh. Your cheeks go intolerably hot, unable to avert your eyes from his. "Umm, Geto—"

"And it got me thinking, ya know: can such a cute, sweet thing really do such things?" The grip of his hand tightens around yours. "Had me intrigued just from looking at you..."

You gulp before saying your words carefully. "Are you...saying you're interested in my...services?"

His brows lift for an instant. "Only if you're up to demonstrate."

This day keeps getting stranger and stranger, and now you're met with the most bizarre moment that could ever transpire. Wide eyes only look back at the man who awaits your answer, and you internally curse Satoru Gojo for putting you through this entire mess of a day!

But a small part of yourself has you battling a moral battle. It's not every day you bump into your one-night stand on a random weekend and be given an opportunity to fuck their best friend that same day. What you're going through right now is only something you'd see in crappy movies and fanfictions (a/n: ouch).

And besides, it's not your fault that this is happening to you. It was Gojo's, yeah. If the man knew when to keep your name out of his mouth, you wouldn't have to go through this madness — and worse — his closest friend wanting to fuck you.

It's his fault that you're now straddling Geto's lap on top of the smooth rocky surface inside of a cave, smacking lips and exchanging passionate breaths. It's his fault that you're whimpering sweetly in Geto's ear as his hands sneak inside your bathing suit to fondle your breasts, pinching the nipples now erect from his touch. It's his fault that you're grinding on his best friend's erection and kissing all the way down from his neck, abdomen, and finally to his pelvis — where you remove his swimming trunks to reveal free the hard cock ready for you.

It's all Gojo's fault...But thanks to him, you can treat yourself to this alluring piece of a man before you. Your suspense and enjoyment climb up from the thought of it.

The two of you are positioned to do the sixty-nine, both of your swimwear discarded off your bodies. Your cheeks go hollow as you take the tip of Geto's dick inside your mouth, your tongue swirling around the glans of his cock, resulting in a hiss from the man below your ass.

"Hmmm, damn, haven't done this position in a while," his hands roam around your buttocks, spreading your asscheeks to further expose the vulva. Your essence shimmering from the setting sun has the man whistle at the sight. "So pretty down here, too."

The compliment pushes you to push your face further to suck in more of his shaft, covering the limb within your oral cavity inch by inch until it hits the back of your throat. You give yourself a short while to get used to his girth in your mouth before you start bobbing your head, soft lips sliding up and down the veins decorating his length.

The raven-haired other groans at the feeling of your mouth around his cock. "Mmmm, yeah, just like that, sweetheart. Just like that..." And before you know it, he brings your ass down to him for his tongue to lick your tempting folds. Your yelp is muffled, and the lapping motions of his wet muscle on your chasm send shivers up your spine.

But you don't let it distract you from the cock in your mouth, resuming your task of pleasing him. You bring a hand to pump his shaft, sliding to and fro from the top to the base. The action causes him to jerk into your mouth with pleasure, and the grip around your ass tightens. He's enjoying it, and it pleases you knowing you're making him feel good.

"Mmmph! Ohh shit—Ummph!" He removes his lips from your cunt, his moans more audible than the sound of waves in the background. "Shit, if you keep at it, I'm gonna—Shit, shit, shit..." It's here that your movements go faster and more sensational, kissing and sucking the head of his cock while you massage and knead his scrotum. The jolts of his legs become apparent, signaling that his release is close. "Oh, fuck...Princess, I'm gonna cum!"

Taking his comment into account, your mouth takes in his cock back in, his size now adapted to your mouth and throat that you bob in comfortable haste. Your tongue brushing up and down the underside of his cock has his fingernails dent marks onto the flesh of your ass. And when his hips snap up to your face, his climax hits your mouth that very second, his load spilling into your mouth and down the glossy walls of your throat. You accept his come, sucking and drinking his bitter fluid with no complaints.

"Haaah, hmmm, did so good, baby. So fucking good...Mmmph!" His cock is still sensitive from experiencing his orgasm; regardless, you don't let him go until you clean him up entirely. And when you finish, a soft 'pop' leaves your puffy lips from his pink glans. He snickers when you turn to him over your shoulder, licking your lips from any remnants. "Heh, damn, you're really good at this. Makes me feel bad that I didn't get you to finish either."

Your smile's bright as the warm glow that bathes your skin. "Don't worry about it," you comfort him while removing your body from on top of him. You lay your face down with your cheek kissing the ground, your hands coming to spread your ass for Geto to gaze at your messy vagina. "I know you'll do a better job where it really matters."

The smirk on his face gets broader as he gets on his knees, moving to your inviting form. "I'll be sure to not disappoint just as you haven't for me."

"Don't jinx yourself," you tease the older man and giggle when he playfully smacks your butt. You bite your bottom lip with the feeling of his cockhead gliding on your folds, your fluids lubricating him as your entrance throbs in anticipation. When he aligns and pushes his dick into you, you remind yourself to breathe steadily and brace for the slight pain bound to happen. One inhale one push of him. Another intake while gradually forcing himself onto you. When you sharply gasp, you know he made himself inside. Tears water up your eyes as he slowly drives his length into you, your tight walls gripping onto the foreign limb intruding.

Geto gives himself a few seconds to adapt to you when the base of his length kisses your southern lips. He starts with slow thrusts, and your body follows his steady cadence. You hum to the blissful sensation of his cock grazing your walls.

"Mmngh, God, Y/n, you feel so fucking good on me," the man rasped, jet-black strands from his bands now sticking to his sweaty forehead and cheek. "...Trying to make me go crazy."

"Mmmph! Haaaah, haha, please, go all out on me," you coax him. "Don't think I can take it?"

Your snarky question has him chortle, and a sudden deep thrust prompts a shriek to sneak past your lips. "Don't say I didn't warn you, sweetie."

He dials up his pace to a faster tempo. The change-up has you whimpering, and you clench around his length, which has the man hiss at the abrupt contact. The electrifying waves of pleasure strike you when he hits your weak spots perfectly, and more moans seethe out from your pretty lips when he increases his speed.

"Nnngh!! Y/n, baby, you're too tight on me," he whines, but his hips don't stop smacking into your ass. "Fuck, oh fuck....let me see your face."

You allow him to maneuver you onto your back, situating you into the missionary position. His cock slides back inside you with ease with a cry from your mouth, your arms wrapped around his neck while he pounds into you. And in this position, with the sun just about to sink into the horizon, you can make out a hue of purple in his dark eyes. So enchantingly irresistible that it takes another harsh thrust to bring you back into reality.

Geto's pelvis slams into your chasm hard — plugging his dick further into you and hitting your sweet spots with scary precision. Your screams fill the cave with an echo, adding to the ranchy air between your sweaty bodies.

"Ohhh! Hoooh!! Getooo, you feel so good! S' goo—Oh fucking Christ, Ahhhnn!!" He grinds the base of his cock into the entrance of your vulva, scraping your tight, velvety walls to the point of tears rolling down your face.

"You too, princess—Hmmph!!" He groaned, jabbing your cunt where you form incoherent sentences. Head pounding and mind foggy, you lock your legs around his waist, caging him. "Gonna cum, sweetheart?"

"Yesss, yessssss!!" Your response slurs in babbles. You feel it crawling up your bones, goosebumps prickling your skin. "Gonna cummm, cumm—Ahhhhh!!" Unbeknownst to you, Geto snakes a hand down to your clitoris, using his middle and forefinger to swipe and grind on the tender bud. And when he flicks and pinches it, your orgasm is finally granted to you.

Your legs shake and tremble around the black-haired man, gripping his shoulders as the walls around his girth contract around him as you experience your crescendo. With the flutter of your cunt, a few deep thrusts are propelled into you before he removes himself from your embrace, taking out his cock to ejaculate his seed onto your stomach. His come paints your tummy, feeding more to your disheveled appearance.

The two of you look deep into each other's eyes while experiencing the final shocks of your climaxes; heaving bodies eventually calm down and fall back to regular breathing. And when it vanishes altogether, the sun has already submerged below the horizon line.

"Hmmm, well," Geto is the first to break the silence. "That was better than I expected. Thanks for indulging my curiosity."

You shake your head and laugh short-winded. "Glad I washed your expectation." Your smile grows larger when he winks at you.

"Think we should start heading back?"

"Mmmm, yeah. But can we just stay here for a few minutes? Kinda like being in your secret spot."

Geto chuckles while positioning himself to lie next to you. "Sure thing. And don't worry, I won't say a word about this. We're in my secret cave for a reason." He laughs harder when you roll your eyes, his hand finding yours to hold again. This time, you reciprocate.

"Yeah, I'd hope so."

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KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

The pen in your hand stops writing when a sound from behind alerts you of someone's presence. While seated, you turn to see Gojo in a more comfortable change of attire — swapping his trunks for black basketball shorts and his blue Hawaiian shirt for a dark blue zip-up hoodie, although it wasn't zipped at all. He's very much casual with what he wears, especially when guests are in the house...

"Found you~ Itadori has been asking for you, and everyone's gathered around the fire pit outside," he takes a few steps into the guest room where you've been cooped up. However, you turn back to the desk in front of you and continue writing. Aware of your reluctance to look at him, he brings it up.

"Y/n~?" Your brows furrow at his sing-song attitude, relying on annoyance to have you speak with him. "Are you mad at me about something~?" The sigh you let out has to be about the tenth time from this day, shaking your head while sucking your teeth silently. You know what, it's just the two of us in the house...

"Yes, Gojo," your face doesn't leave the diary on the desk, but your hands stop writing. "I am mad at you."

"How come?" He adjusts his dark shades and then jerks at the sudden sound of your pen slamming onto the desk surface. And he's never seen a look that could kill on your pretty face before.

"Why don't you go ask Geto why I'm so mad," your tone isn't entirely furious; if anything, it's calm. But its connotation doesn't go unnoticed by Gojo. "Or better yet, why don't you retell him all about how 'y/n's blowjobs are like this' or how I'm 'so tight it's insane.' Surely that'll refresh some memories, huh?"

The room isn't completely silent, apart from the ticking noises of the clock on the wall by the bed. Gojo stands utterly still — same for you. The only thing that will activate any movement depends on his answer.

"....Ohhh!" He starts off as if a lightbulb just went up. "You mean he told you I told him—"

"Yes." a blunt response stops him from finishing. "I'm not mad about you telling him about what I did on that date. But would it have killed you to use probably another name for me? My friends don't know about you, but imagine my surprise when I found out your best friend's first impression of me is how I bounced on your dick!" It's commendable that he doesn't interrupt you while you speak because you might throw something at him if he did. And you're sure he knows it as well. "Does that give you a better idea as to why I'm mad?"

"Yup, loud and clear..." Now that you two are on the same page, you turn away from him again and return to writing, aware that the tall other is still behind you in the room. Especially when you hear him take a few more steps close to you, it takes everything in your power to not headbutt him when he places his chin on top of your head. This guy and his lack of respect for boundaries...

"Aww, come on, Y/n. I didn't mean to upset you like that." His usually loud voice is hushed for you, as if someone would come up and see the two of you like this. "It's a big surprise for me that I'd ever see you after last time, and I guess I figured I wouldn't. Which is why I told Suguru about you. Sorry about that, honest."

You couldn't focus on writing since he called you by your name, listening to his words and the sincerity they carry. And for a moment, you almost give into his sweet voice. But you held on strong for your dignity. "Apology accepted, but I'm still mad at you."

"Whaaaaat~, what was the point of accepting my apology then!?" You can't lie; it's cute when this tall man complains like a child. His giant hands move to your shoulders, massaging them to ease tension. "I'll make it up to you. You'll be here for a weekend, so let me treat you!"

A brow lifts up to that offer. "Treat me how?"

"I can start by going out there and having a s'more ready for you if you finish up whatever it is you're doing."

Five seconds go by. Ten. You exhale heavily through your nose, but a small smile creeps up on your lips. "Fine."

"Nice!" You roll your eyes when he fist-pumps the air. "By the way, what are you doing?"

Oh shit!! You immediately cover the pages of your diary. "Nothing."

"Is that a diary?" The giddiness in his tone crawls back up, much to your dismay. "Am I in it?"

"No, you're not!" You flip the diary with the pages on the desk surface, hiding the contents entirely. I already wrote about you before, anyway!

"Woah, I saw my name!" You get up from your chair and push Gojo out of the room. "D'aww, Y/n, you're such an angel thinking about me so much that I'm in your diary~."

"Shut up, Gojo! Go make me that s'more already!" You pushed him back out of the room, your face hot from embarrassment. And it gets even hotter when you see the huge grin plastered on his dumb face.

"You know you're cute as hell when you're flustered like this, right, dollface?"

And with that, you slam the door on his face, not caring about the groans of pain that he expresses. Waiting for his footsteps to draw away from the room, you sit back at the desk and groan into your hands for a few seconds. When you feel your composure is confident enough, you grab your pen and finish writing the last statements in your diary.

...Needless to say, being involved with Satoru Gojo undoubtedly has its consequences. I had said I'd love to see him again, but this was not the second meeting that I had in mind...But not gonna lie; it's nice to know that he was thinking about me while I was gone. Can't be mad at that handsome man-child for too long.

As for his friend, he truly is a mysterious person, knowing more about me than I do him. And for him to say that he was interested in me not just by Gojo's account but from seeing and hanging out with me? With what happened a few hours ago...I'll have to keep my guard up with him this weekend.

One thing is for sure, though: this is definitely a beach experience I'll never forget. Oh, Suguru Geto, you made sure of that. And just like your pleasant smile and purple eyes, I'll treasure it deep within my heart.

˚₊‧꒰ა Bonus ☆ Scene!! ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The weekend has finally come to an end, the Sunday sun coming down to bid farewell on the beach setting, and you and your friends say goodbye to Shoko and thank her for letting her stay at her beach house along with her friends ("No worries, any friend of Geto and Gojo's is a friend of mine." The older brunette said sipping her juice from a pretty glass. "Stay safe out there.")

The drive home was fun, blasting music from the radio of Nobara's car while feeling the wind from the windows as everyone gets dropped off. The first to go was Megumi, then Yuuji at his grandpa's place. All that was left was you and Nobara, the two of you enjoying the calm drive to your house as the moon watched over your return home.

When she stops at the front of your home, you express your thanks. "Thanks for the ride again, Nobara. Had a great time with you and the guys." But she doesn't respond, just looking at the steering wheel. Concerned, you question her. "Nobara? You okay?"

It's evident the brunette has something parading her thoughts, because she lets out a massive sigh before facing your direction and asks the following question. "Did you go on that blind date with Satoru or Suguru?"

One blink goes by. Two blinks. ".......Huh."

"Don't 'huh' me, Y/n; I know ya heard me!" She smacks the steering wheel in slight exasperation. "Don't make me repeat myself."

You internally groan at the situation you're in. You knew this talk was bound to happen, but God, you just wanted to get in your bed and go to sleep after this very exhausting weekend. Okay, think, Y/n, think!

"...No," you avoid eye contact answering. "No, I did not."

"Are you sure about that?" Of course, the other has more questions. "Because when you told me about your blind date, you said they were tall with their first name starting with an 'S' and their last name a 'G.' And low and behold, we go to the beach, and I'm met with not one, but TWO fairly tall men who both check those boxes. Not to mention that the date was at a diner, and they both just happen to have met you in a diner?"

Oh, for fucks sake, God, please just strike me down right here and now. "What? Am I not supposed to meet people at a diner? Or go on a date in a completely different diner?"

The brown-haired woman furrows her brow before continuing on. "I don't know, you tell me. Those two seemed quite friendly with you all weekend, especially that lanky sheep, Gojo. The way those two looked at you or how oddly close they got. Looks and sounds fishy to me."

You scoff at her observations as they are accurate and are doing a remarkable job of making you nervous right now. "Nobara, many people in this world have those initials. For all you know, I probably went on a date with Selena Gomez or Seth Green. I mean, when you say you're crushing on M.Z., I don't immediately think of Maki Zenin. My mind goes straight to Mark Zuckerberg."

The disgusted look on Nobara's face almost had you laughing on the spot. "Don't play with me, Y/n! And don't you dare disrespect my queen's beauty to the looks of a pale salamander, or I'll smack you. I'm gonna ask again: did you go on a blind date with either of those two?"

"No!" It's amazing how quick you went with a lie. Who could blame you? It was easier than telling the truth, especially with what happened this weekend.

The two of you hold a mini staring competition, Nobara searching for any tale of a lie on your face. But with another sigh, she gives up interrogating and stares at the roof of her car, followed by you leaning back on the passenger seat while your brain does mental gymnastics in victory.

A few seconds of silence goes by before your friend says anything more. "Hmm, that's a bummer." You peer at her with bewilderment painted on your face. "They both looked like they got some good dick."

"Are you fucking serious— You know what, goodnight, Nobara." You don't bother listening to her try to back herself up on her statement, just grabbing for your stuff and closing the passenger door. Ignoring her shouts as you walk to the front door to unlock it and shutting it to finally free yourself from this weekend-long nightmare.

You groan to yourself as you slide down the door. Honestly, fuck this summer...

768 notes · View notes

tender-rosiey · 1 year

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Can I request Gojo x reader where she is busy doing paperwork and missions ( she is a special grade sorcerer) and Gojo wants her attention

whining — gojo satoru x f!reader

you had already finished all your missions for the day, and you finally have time for yourself. at least, that’s what you thought until yaga bestowed on you the paperwork that you had to fill after your recent missions.

with you being a special grade sorcerer like your husband, neither of you had a lot of free time and therefore couldn’t spend time together as much as you wanted.

unless, you get sent on a mission together which is rare, but it always fills gojo with happiness and he becomes so giddy whenever you’re paired up together.

it’s cute how head over heels he is for you, but it does have its disadvantage. like for example, right now, you were supposed to be doing said paperwork you were assigned. however, your husband came back early today which is good and honestly you would love to spend time together but oh well.

“WIFEY I AM HOME!” he bursts into your shared bedroom and finds you on your desk doing your paperwork. no matter what you do, his heart never fails to flutter to the point he can even giggle like a giddy school girl.

you chuckle softly and wave at him, “welcome back, satoru,” gojo, however, is not satisfied with just a wave and huffs his way to you.

“do I not get a welcome back kiss?” you can practically hear the pout in his voice, but you can’t give in to your husband’s antics right now. he hugs you from the back and you feel him bury his face into your shoulder.

“you will after I am done,” you tell him, but he shakes his head which makes you sigh, “‘toru, the earlier I am done with this, the earlier and more we can be together.”

“but I can just tell yaga to let someone else do your paperwork!”

“like?”

“ijich—“

“except ijichi.”

he deflates and starts whining, “he is my junior! he should help me!”

“‘toru, he isn’t obligated to,” you remind him; however, gojo isn’t giving up and starts placing small pecks on your shoulder.

“did I tell you how pretty you look today?” he has switched tactics, you notice. he is going to start sweet-talking you into leaving the paperwork and instead joining him on the bed for a much needed cuddle session.

it’s a tempting offer, but one of you had to be the responsible one and more often than not, it had to be you, “satoru, just go watch the tv and make sure to eat something ‘cause you’re probably hungry.”

“AWW WIFEY! YOU KNOW ME SO WELL!” he pulls back and screams fondly and you roll your eyes.

“of course I do, you’re my husband, silly.”

he, cutely unfortunately, latches onto you again and is basically spilling hearts from his eyes and radiating love, “hearing you say my husband makes me so happy.”

“well, my good and handsome husband will let his wife finish her paperwork so she can spend time with him later, right?” you say sweetly and even start scratching his scalp which is something he adores.

he hums softly and turns your chair so he can hug you properly. he buries his face in your stomach and you hear a small, “can I hug you like this for a moment then?”

you smile gently and continue running your fingers through his hair. a couple of moments pass and you speak up, voice barely above a whisper, “satoru, come on; I need to do the paperwork.”

you’re met with nothing and assume that the man actually fell asleep in that position. sighing, you softly call his name, “‘toru, if you’re going to sleep then sleep on the bed so your back doesn’t hurt.”

you shake him lightly and he raises his head to look you in the eye, “can you take my blindfold off?”

nodding, you gently take it off and you’re left staring at your husband’s eyes. the longing in them is so apparent that it makes your heart ache.

“okay, fine; I will go to bed,” he murmurs tiredly and stands up. you nod and turn back to your papers once you see that he is in bed.

you close the lights and only leave the lamp on your desk. time to prepare for long hours of boring and unbearable paperwork.

“HAHA GOTCHA!” you hear him say triumphantly and you are picked up rather effortlessly and thrown on the bed, somehow gently.

you groan from the impact, and when you tried to get up, he laid on top of you and squishing you in the process, “satoru!”

“cuddle now and do the paper work later!”

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bucky-barnes-diaries · 2 years

Note

okay but mob!bucky having a terrible time and taking it out on the reader

Pairing || Mob!Bucky x Wife!Reader

Contents & Warnings || Smut — NSFW, 18+ Only, Minors DNI, dub-con, shower sex, Bucky being rough and ruthless.

Authors Note || Ugh yes! Ok I’ve been thinking about this scenario for a while and this just gave me inspiration to write it down! I started writing this at like 1 AM so apologies if it sucks lol I’m very tired after travelling most of the day. Also I kept this very short and easy than I normally do. I’m trying to teach my brain to just write and have fun without overthinking and that not everything needs to be 100% perfect to post.

Mob!Bucky Masterlist

Bloody, battered and bruised.

That’s how you found him as he was standing underneath the shower, his head hung low, hands placed on the tiled wall, as he let the water pour down on him.

He’d spent all day with violence, bruising and abusing people—needing to put them in their place after crossing a line with him. You knew it took a toll on him, doing those things, so you wanted to comfort him in any way he needed and wanted.

You removed your clothes and stepped into the shower. Getting behind him, you wrapped your arms around his torso and kissed his spine, making his tense muscles relax as he let out a exhale of relief at you being there for him.

Your hand found his cock, stroking his length and teasing his tip till he hardened in your grasp, making him moan as his cock twitched, wanting more.

He turned around and pinned your body against the cold tiled while he kept your hands above your head—trapping you. He collided his lips with yours as he moved hurriedly and hungrily against them. With his teeth, he tugged your bottom one as he growled like a hungry animal, ready to devour its prey.

He turned your body around, your front now pressed into the cold wall. He kept a solid and powerful grip on your neck, constricting your breathing. With his other, he guided his length to your pussy and forced his way through your tight walls—not even asking for permission. He didn’t need to. He always took what he wanted and needed, even from you.

You cried out at the slight pain and discomfort once he was situated entirely in you. He groaned in your ear as he slammed into you in long and powerful strokes repeatedly with no mercy—taking his frustrations and anger out on your poor and innocent body. You were going to be so sore and tender tomorrow.

It didn’t take long before he spurted his hot cum into your tight and accommodating walls. Groaning against your wet skin as he filled your little cunt up. You sobbed as he left your sensitive walls.

He left a few sweet kisses on your skin, making you think that he was done with you and would take you to bed now for some cuddles, but it looked like he still needed to let his frustrations out, so he shoved his cock through your used and abused walls once more, ready to take you one more time, and then maybe an extra one after that…

If people want to send some more thots please feel free to do so 👀 Maybe some of them will inspire me to write or include them in a longer fic! If not I will write something very short and quick or give you my opinion on the topic 🖤

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corruptedcaps · 3 months

Text

Fake Week

“What kind of sicko are you Kane? I will not wear this… this butt plug. Its bad enough I have to pretend to be your girlfriend for a month so you’ll stop bullying Kevin but I’m not going indulge you in this sick game and wear some lewd sex toy of yours. I don’t care if this is what all your exes did! You’ll knock it down to just a week if I do? Alright fine but I’m cleaning it first. Maybe cleaning it more than once.”

“Are you happy now Kane? No you don’t get to check it! No wonder you’re single, you’re such a creep! Oh sure you wanted to see it was fitting fine and not hurting me? Yeah right how stupid do you think I am? And besides it fits perfectly, like really perfect actually. I uh got to go.”

“Yeah so what if I’m putting on makeup? I figured if I’m going to sell being your girlfriend I should probably start looking like those vapid bitches you are used to dating. Plus this is so easy, don’t know why I didn’t try it before. It’s just an act, you’re still a creep and once today is done I’ll be one day closer to not having to pretend to be your girlfriend!”

“It’s called yoga Kane. All you exes are flexible, athletic bitches so I thought I might as well act like I care about this stuff. I have to say though I’ve seen such a crazy improvement in just a few hours. It’s like magic! I can stretch and twist like never before and I’ve seen improvements in other areas too. Areas I see you’re checking out you cheeky bastard. I guess it is a pretty amazing ass now so I’ll allow it but don’t get any ideas, I’m just your fake girlfriend for 5 more days.”

“I never noticed how long my hair had gotten lately, it was getting in my face all the time during yoga so I decided to put it into a high ponytail, you know like one of your exes, and it’s so freeing. I used to think it was so bitchy looking but now honestly I think it’s sexy like this don’t you think? Of course you agree, I can see that bulge in your pants ‘babe’. Hmmm it’s kind of hawt seeing someone other that Kevin be turned on by me. Even with him it’s so few and far between lately. Maybe in four days when I’m back to being his girlfriend he’ll like this new hairstyle.”

“Ugh why are my so called friends so annoying today? They were complaining that I was saying mean things about Margo. All I said was if she wanted to ever get a guy she should maybe lay off the ice cream once and awhile. It’s not my fault the fatty started to cry. She should thank me for being honest with her. I should be more honest with the lot of them and kick them to the curb but they’re the only friends I’ve got. You’ve heard Amber and Mercedes want to be friends with me? The two biggest bully’s in school, but they are pretty cool and fashionable unlike these other dweebs. Maybe I’ll give them a text, thanks for the encouragement…. babe.”

“You were right about Amber and Mercedes. We texted all day yesterday and met up at the mall and went shopping. They convinced me to throw out all my lame clothes and buy a totally new look. It’s mostly pink and tight and sexy as hell. They also convinced me about something else. About you. I’ve been such a brat to you these past few days and you’ve been nothing but a gentleman to me. It’s time you got some sort of reward for your troubles. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t going to be a reward for me too. Just stand there looking handsome as hell and I’ll do the rest.”

“Hey baby, last night was mmmm really hawt but don’t tell anyone ok? I don’t want Kevin to know that I cheated on him last night… or this morning… or in your car later today. I can’t help it if you can’t keep your hands off me. I mean who can blame you? Plus you are MY boyfriend for two more days. Of course I told Amber and Mercedes though, they’re my besties, I had to tell them. Plus they were so impressed by what a bitchy thing my cheating was that they made me their new leader. Wasn’t your ex their old leader? Well I’m going to being even badder and bitchier than she was. Mmm that’s making me so horny. Fuck it let’s go to your car now.”

“Last day of our ‘relationship’. It’s only right that we get all the fucking in that we can. Glad to see your stamina is up to the task. Kevin wouldn’t last a fraction that you are capable of. What a fucking loser, can’t believe I have to go back to him tomorrow. Why am I doing this again? To stop you bullying him? He deserves to be bullied and you’re soooo hawt doing it. I never admitted since putting in the butt plug I’ve been touching myself at night thinking about you wailing on him. You’re so much more of a man than he ever will be. You know what? Fuck him. I deserve a strong, mean, and hot as hell boyfriend and you deserve a bitchy queen bee of a girlfriend. Kevin deserves to be the victim. Forgot our deal, I’m yours for good now and Kevin is all yours.”

“Oh the jacket? It belongs to my boyfriend, Kane. You know, your bully? Me date you? As if loser, I’ve always been Kane’s girl and always will. It’s like I was made for him. You’re just some simping creep who’s wanted in my panties for years. Everyone knows it, because my beta besties Amber and Mercedes are telling them right now. Those two can spread news like wildfires. You’ll be a pariah by the end of the day. Kane will be cheered on for bullying you. Mmmm speaking of which here he comes. Don’t forget to cry, it makes me so wet when you do.”

#f2f #corruption #bitchification #magic #evil bitch #corrupted item #corrupted pov

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hope-drunk · 11 months

Text

SO HOT YOU'RE HURTING MY FEELINGS

| you and abby broke up a month ago, she creates a plan to get you back.

| wc: 3.5k

| content warnings: 18+ MDNI! set in modern day, alcohol, f!reader, strap usage (reader receiving), oral (reader receiving), pet names, abby's a little mean if you squint, a bit angsty, barely proofread.

| a/n: inspired by the song 'so hot you're hurting my feelings' by caroline polachek

You didn’t know much, but you did know one thing; Abby Anderson shouldn’t be messed with. You two had broken it off over a slight argument, you didn’t understand why she couldn’t see your side of the story and accept that you weren’t flirting back with her teammate. When you two had the argument over it, the floodgates opened, and you and Abby had laid it all out on the table. By the end of it, you had stormed out of her apartment and went back to yours, finalizing the breakup with a text. You hadn’t talked to her since. The ‘we’re over’ text had been left on read for over a month.

It didn’t stop the hurt though, you looked back through the messages everyday, even though they made you slightly cringe now. It had all been so simple. You spent every second together, and when you weren’t together, there were hundreds of texts to make up for it. You honestly didn’t know how you were still breathing, you missed her more than anything. The rage wore off after the first week, and you haven’t been able to bounce back. But tonight you were dragged to a party by your roommate, and you figured, why not, it was fine to get a little drunk to deal with your feelings every once in a while.

The idea was that you’d be set free by the alcohol; to let loose a little. And you did! You had fun for a solid forty-seven minutes before the fun was disrupted. The second your and Abby’s song turned onto the loud speakers, you were done for. You walk off into the open bathroom and sit down onto the closed lid of the toilet. Your head falls into your hands. The song had sobered you up quick. You take your phone out of your skirt pocket to do what you usually do when you get reminded of Abby, ready to open the instagram app and scroll along her profile, and you would’ve been content doing that, until your phone lights up with a text from her. You open it immediately.

“What the fuck?” You mumble.

You scroll through the multiple photos she’s sent you; all of her at the gym, flexing her muscles. She starts typing, and you feel your heart drop to your stomach.

sorry, wrong person.

You can’t help the scoff that comes out of your mouth. “Seriously?” You say, again, only to yourself.

You don’t give her a response, simply setting your phone on the sink and rubbing a hand over your face. It’s like she knew. She knew you were tipsy and about to stalk her. She knew that you heard the stupid song that you danced around her apartment to. You swear it was a secret sense of hers.

After about ten minutes, you go back out into the party; beelining for the alcohol table. You pour the liquid into a plastic red cup, estimating what you think would be a shot, and send it down the hatch. You were entirely too sober to deal with this situation.

“Hey there, you alright?” Your roommate yells over the loud music.

“She fucking sent me pictures, of her– of her muscles.” You say, now that you were standing, the alcohol started to have its effects again.

“What? Seriously? I’m sorry. Why, exactly?”

“I don’t know, she said wrong person.” you try not to let the tears escape your eyes, not wanting to cause a scene.

“Okay, well, fuck. That’s kind of worse. Did you text her back?” She says, giving you a panicked look.

“Of course not, what am I supposed to say?”

“It’s gonna be alright, let’s just have fun, okay?” She smiles at you, trying to reassure you of her words.

You nod your head and she moves you back onto the dance floor. Again, with the alcohol in your system, you start to have a good time again. You dance and laugh and have fun; you don’t even check your phone. You don’t keep track of how much you keep drinking, but you’re sporting a hefty buzz by the time you sit down on the couch for a break. Your head spins as you pull out your phone to check the time. The bright 2:13 stares back at you, and then your attention is caught by a notification on your phone, Abby has refollowed you on instagram. You groan, hadn’t she done enough tonight?

Suddenly, you felt the overwhelming urge to call her, even though you know you shouldn’t. You were doing so good, so good! And a few pictures and an instagram notification were enough to convince drunk-you that calling her was a good idea. You walk down the staircase of the apartment complex and go outside to the picnic table that sits in front of the building. You recognize some people from the party smoking, but you don’t pay them any mind. You open Abby’s contact on your phone. Your finger hovers over the call button. Should you really do this? Should you reopen this wound that you were working so hard to close? But on the otherhand, should Abby be allowed to fuck with you like this? No, no. She had to know that she needed to stop. You press the call button and bring your phone to your ear, listening to it ring.

She picks up after the third ring, “Um, hello?”

“Yeah, hi. I need you to stop. I don’t want to see pictures of you being hot at the gym and I don’t want you to follow me on instagram. We’re done, so I don’t know why you’d send me pictures and when I don’t respond you follow me again. I really– I can’t do this, okay?” You ramble into the phone, the alcohol gives you more courage than you would’ve had sober.

“Okay, well, the photos were an accident–”

“Bullshit,” you cut her off. “That’s bullshit. And I know it is, because I know you.”

“Are you drunk right now?

“I’m at a party, yeah. That’s why I need you to stop. I’m having fun.”

“I’m coming to get you.” You hear a muffled noise of bed sheets being pushed off her body.

“No, you’re not. You don’t know where I am.” You say smugly.

“You think I don’t get invited to the same parties that you do, sweetheart? I’m on my way.” Abby says, she hangs up the phone directly after so you can’t talk back.

You feel hot all over. The anger and the alcohol heat you up. You already regret the call, and now you have to deal with telling your roommate that Abby is coming to get you. You decide to text her instead of telling her to her face. The alcohol gave you confidence, but not enough to tell her that you were being picked up by the girl who’d left you bedridden for two days.

so, funny story, abby is on her way to pick me up, sorry. see u later ok?

You put your phone back into your pocket after sending the message, not daring to pull it back out once it starts vibrating. You sit on the table and wait for Abby’s car to pull up in front of the building. You will yourself to sober up before seeing her. You know that your mouth will betray you if you try to speak to her while you’re drunk. You also know that you won’t be as brave as you were over the phone. Talking shit behind the screen is one thing, but being face to face with Abby is another. She’s so intimidating, even now. Her height and her build, the calm expression she has on her face at all times. The most you could get out of her was a jaw twitch, and that was only if you had been arguing for a few hours.

You hear her car before you see it; her brakes have always been squeaky. She pulls up fast, having to slam on the brakes to fully stop in front of you. It seems like she hasn’t forgotten her manners, because before you can open the door of her car, she’s getting out of the driver’s seat and opening it for you. Once you sit down, she even buckles your seatbelt. Honestly, she was making it really hard to stay mad. The action almost makes you cry again.

She walks back to her side and gets in, putting the car in drive and speeding off. You turn your legs towards the door and put your chin in your hand. Abby scoffs at the childish action, but doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have music playing on the radio, so all you hear is the wind rustling through the open windows. Your hair flies back and forth, and you make a big display of trying to smooth it down. Abby's hair is always in a braid, so she doesn’t see a problem with driving like this.

Before you know it, you’re pulling into a parking spot at Abby’s apartment complex. This time you’re quicker than her, unbuckling the seatbelt and opening the car door.

“I don’t want to come in.” You say. “I thought you were taking me to my place.” A lie, you figured she would bring you here, but you were scared to go in; scared of the memories it would bring up.

“You’re coming inside, so…” She trails off, waving her hand towards the door.

Your eyes well up, you look down at your feet so she doesn’t see. “Can you just take me home, please?”

“No, get inside. We need to talk.” The voice she uses sobers you up quicker than anything else ever could.

When you walk into her apartment, you take a seat on her dark brown couch. She walks to the kitchen and gets you a bottle of water, taking the lid off and handing it to you once she’s back into the living room. She sits on a chair across from you, putting her elbows onto her thighs and watching you greedily gulp down the water.

It does help your head feel a bit clearer, “Thank you.” You say to her.

“Let’s talk,” she says.

“About what, Abby?”

“About why we should get back together.”

You laugh at her, it’s loud and obnoxious; one only she could pull from you. “Why would we do that?”

“Because I know you, and I know you miss me. I miss you too. I miss having you here every second and I miss texting you when you’re not here.”

“Okay, so, that’s not how this is going to work. You can’t just say you miss me without addressing why we broke up in the first place.”

She moves her chair closer to you. “And why did we break up in the first place?”

You scoff, “Because you’re possessive, and you have a jealousy issue. I talked to Mara for three seconds and we had a three hour long argument over it.”

“You used to like how possessive I was, you said it was one of your favorite things about me.”

“I did like it, I liked it when you were subtle with it. What I don’t like is getting crucified for speaking to another girl.”

“Crucified, really? God, you’re fucking dramatic.”

You huff; take another sip of your water. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to come in.” You mumble.

“Speak up for me, please. Y’know I hate it when you mumble.” Abby says, her patience running thin.

“I said that this is why I didn’t want to come in. I knew it would just be the fight all over again. I didn’t do anything wrong. She asked me how my classes were going, Abby.”

“Yeah, she also asked other girls on the team how serious we were, because she was trying to get in your fucking pants.” Abby snips, getting up out of the chair so that she can pace around.

Your mouth opens and closes. You hadn’t known that Mara was talking about you like that. She had flirted with you in the past. She was in your major, so you saw her around your lecture halls and at various parties hosted by other people you had in common. You had flirted back a few times, but it was nothing serious, just some fun banter at a few parties. She had stopped once you and Abby became official, so you thought that was the end of it. Obviously, it wasn’t.

You clear your throat, “Okay, I didn’t know that.”

“But you knew that she tried to before.”

“Abby, I’m serious when I say that nothing ever happened between us, and especially not when we were together. Do you actually believe I would cheat on you?”

Abby puts her hands on her hips and lets out a sigh, “No, I don’t.”

“So why did you fight with me over someone else’s actions?”

She sits back down in the chair. “I don’t know.”

You go and stand in front of her, she doesn’t look up at you, so you crouch down on the floor.

After a while, she speaks, “Maybe I do have a jealousy problem.”

You laugh, and she cracks a smile. “Yeah, I think you do.”

“I’m sorry, really.” She says, making sure to look directly into your eyes. “I mean it. I fucked up, but I wanna fix it. I do miss you, a lot.”

“I miss you too.” You admit. It’s quiet again, Abby brushes your hair off of your face. You can’t help but lean into her touch, her large palm is warm; it feels familiar, it feels like home. You blink up at her, “Are you going to admit that the photos were for me?”

She laughs and sniffles, you hadn’t even realized she had started crying. “Yeah, whatever. They were for you.”

You look down and laugh again. “God, I missed that sound.” Abby says.

She pulls you off the ground and places you in her lap. You touch your forehead to hers, staring intently into her eyes, her pupils seem to have expanded since earlier this evening, and you’re sure yours were just as large. You brush your nose against hers and lean your face down. If either of you were to twitch, your lips would touch.

“We gonna do this?” Abby says, barely above a whisper. Scared that if she talked louder you’d get spooked and run away.

“Make up sex sounds good to me.” You agree.

It feels like there’s a different Abby now. A hungry wolf that’s been waiting to be set free. She kisses you with such force that you move back on her lap. If she didn’t have her hands holding you up, you might’ve fallen off. Your hips grind down into her by instinct, trying to search for some friction to soothe the ache between your legs. Abby pushes your hips down onto her thigh and rolls them, forcing you to grind on the strong muscle. She doesn’t stop kissing you even for a second. You think if Abby had a superpower, it would be sex.

Suddenly she’s standing, you wrap your legs around her waist and your arms around her neck; she still doesn’t break the kiss. She brings you into her bedroom, and you feel your eyes well up with tears. The wave of relief it sends through you is insane. You didn’t know if you’d ever be back in this room, under Abby. You didn’t know if you’d ever see her pillows or her closet again. It sounds silly, but you’ve truly missed everything about her.

She pulls away panting, “Why y’crying, baby?”

“I don’t know. Missed you; missed this room.”

She smiles and leans back down for a kiss, it’s less heated; more loving. She pushes the shirt you’re wearing up and places kisses down your stomach. You gasp as she lightly drags her tongue right above where your skirt starts. Your hips lift, urging her to take it off; urging her to get closer to where you need her.

“Gonna make it up to you, okay? Gonna make you feel so fucking good, not even gonna remember why we broke up.”

“Okay, please.” You say back to her. You place your hand on the top of her head, slowly unraveling the tight braid she has in.

She doesn’t even take the time to take off the black maxi skirt you have on, just pushes it up your legs and takes off your panties. She stares at your cunt for a few seconds. You can feel her hot breath fanning over it. A whine falls from your lips; and suddenly she’s licking a stripe up your slit.

A moan comes from your chest. You haven’t been touched the whole month, not even by yourself. Every time you tried to masturbate, you just thought about sex with Abby, which only made you upset. You snap out of your thoughts when you feel Abby suck on your clit, it sends you reeling. You push her face further into you, and your thighs close in on her head. The noises you’re making are absurd. You’re sure her neighbors are going to leave a note on the door, but at this moment you couldn’t care less.

It’s embarrassing how fast the coil gets tight in your stomach.

“Fuck– Abby, think I’m gonna–” you can’t get a full sentence out. The words begin and end on your tongue.

She pulls her mouth away and presses her fingers into your clit, rubbing tight circles on it. “Already, bunny? Just got started.”

“I know.” It comes out whiner than you wanted it to. “I know, I’m sorry. Just feels so good.”

“That’s alright, sweetheart. Come when you wanna, I’ll be right here.” Her mouth reconnects with your cunt.

You think it’s about ten seconds before you’re coming. You let the tears fall freely for the first time tonight. You feel so happy, your chest gets tight. Your hips grind into Abby’s mouth. She’s always been like this; staying latched onto your cunt until your orgasm is done. You cry out at the overstimulation once you’re back on Earth. She removes her mouth to shush you, pressing more kisses to your neck and moving your hair off of your sweaty forehead. Your head is reeling, your vision is blurry.

Abby comes up and kisses you on your cheek. “You want the strap?”

A wave of arousal flows through you at the mention of it, “Would it be make up sex without it?”

She laughs and gets off the bed, going to her closet to retrieve the box where it’s stored. She strips while she’s over there, and puts her clothes in the dirty laundry. Always so neat, can never have anything out of place. Once she gets it settled on her waist, she comes back over to you.

“You ready, baby?”

You nod your head.

“Words, please.” She gives you a soft smile. “You forget your manners?”

“No,” you say, voice hoarse from the moaning. “I’m ready, Abby.”

She lines up the strap with your hole, and gently eases it in. You pant. You didn’t forget your manners, but you did forget how good the stretch feels. She bottoms out; the strap kisses the sweet spot inside of you.

“Fuck,” you whimper.

“Is this okay?” She asks. She’s staring down at where her hips meet yours and you can tell she’s fighting off the urge to thrust into you until you answer her.

“Yes, can you just– please move.”

Abby doesn’t need to be asked twice. Her hips grind into yours with all the force in the world. You can tell that the strap is hitting her clit because of the grunts she’s letting out. The room feels humid at this point, and you’re sure it stinks of sex.

“You’re mine, yeah? No one else can ever have you.”

“You have–” you’re interrupted by a moan as she starts rubbing at your clit again. “You have a jealousy problem.”

Abby scoffs, “Gonna give me fucking attitude right now? When I’ve got my cock buried in this pretty little pussy?”

You whimper at your words. You always get off on Abby telling you off. You love how dominating she is. You love watching her brows raise when you say something questionable. You can’t help but rile her up.

“You do, it’s bad. You need to work on it.”

“Stop being a brat and come on my fucking cock.”

Her words send you over the edge, this time further than you think you’ve ever been. She follows you soon after, keeping the strap buried in you while her orgasm washes over her. When you both come back, she’s fallen beside you, the silicone lays on the floor. She breathes deeply beside you.

“So…” You say.

“So what, baby?” Abby says. She decides you’re too far away and pulls you into her chest.

“Are we back together?”

She laughs at you, really laughs. Like you’ve just said the funniest thing in the world. “Are you seriously asking me that?”

You start laughing too, “Well, I don’t know!”

“Yeah, we’re back together.”

Your smile widens and you hide your face in her chest, suddenly embarrassed by the question that slipped out.

“Okay, well good.” You say.

You drift off like that, content to be back in Abby’s arms. Happy to be home.

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson angst #abby anderson fan fiction #abby anderson x you #abby anderson fic #abby anderson x female reader #abby !#tlou fic

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