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#that moment in cw is as useful as the words 'if you ever feel alone.......don't' sdfkhskj
angelshimaa · 5 months
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━━ 𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐑 ;; 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈
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✧ cw :: gn!reader, angst + comfort (bc y'all asked nicely), reader cries a little :), it's a part two to this (please read first) !!
✧ a/n :: @ka0ila & @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory + the ppl asked for a pt two, so here it is !!
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“you're late.”
you nearly jump at the voice, not expecting any sounds to come from the dark place, way too cold to call home. you only note the laziness of his words, and how deeply they come from him.
it's past his bedtime, and he's exhausted. the hurt part of you hates how deeply his mannerisms are engraved into your mind.
you walk towards the stairs, determined to make it to bed without sharing a singular word with him. it's then when you see his figure sitting right there, blocking your path.
“where were you?” the red of bakugou's eyes is tinted darker, more bloodshot as he looks at you. you hope your own aren't as red after having cried your soul out at mina's. you half wish you'd accepted her offer to crash there for the night, for you didn't know how exactly this night could go.
“away from you. isn't that what you wanted?”
the response nips at him and he remembers the words he'd spat at you. you watch how he plays with his hands, smoothing over the rough skin and the thought is almost hilarious— he looked nervous.
“i— i didn't mean it, y/n. any of it. i was angry— and i'm sorry.”
while you were burning in hurt and rage and bitterness and overwhelming sorrow as mina hugged you, you'd listened to your heart beg him for an apology. and now, after it being thrown out, it doesn't hold the same weight as you'd like.
“until when, bakugou?” he winces at the use of his last name— he was never ‘bakugou’ to you. “you're sorry until something goes wrong at work again? you're sorry until i ‘start yapping' again? until you can't stand to look at my face?”
while he can't look you in the eyes anymore, let alone answer you, you feel the lump in your throat solidify.
“move out of the way, bakugou. i need sleep.”
you climb up a step, and the only movement bakugou makes is to stand up.
“y/n, please. please— stay.” the fragility makes itself known in both your voices and you're too tired— your heart is too heavy to fight, to protest.
“ba— katsuki, i'm tired. you yank me about at your will, and i'm so tired. all i've done is stay— endure— and all it has gotten me is here.”
he inhales sharply at the sorrow in how you say his name and it shatters him to see just how hopeless you look— all because he can't keep his damn temper in check.
“i'm sorry. please, i'll— i'll do anything— just don't leave. i'll get help, i'll come home earlier— i'll listen. just, one more chance, please.”
moments pass and the tears well up looking at his face, the prettiest face you've ever laid your eyes on. it pricks at you, watching him ask so softly.
you're weak, and you're so helplessly in love with him.
“i only have one more chance in me to give.”
bakugou exhales, moving slowly toward you. it's when you feel his arms wrap around you for a hug, that you feel your muscles ease up for the first time in so long. your own arms wrap around him, hands grasping at the back of his shirt, and he clings onto you like his life depends on it.
the smell of him— of home— is what causes the tears to finally fall. his shirt catches them and you nuzzle more into him, the thought of letting go seeming unfathomable. you can't remember the last time he'd touched you, let alone held you so close, but you try and hold onto what it feels like. what being at home feels like.
katsuki shuts his eyes, keeping his tears in. as he whispers his apology, he swears to himself he'll never make you cry so much again.
it's the sound of his heartbeat that stops your tears and lulls you to peace, and the warmth seeps back into your home that allows your broken hearts to mend in silence.
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✧ — thank you for reading !! rbs and feedback are greatly appreciated <3
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l1tw1ck · 4 months
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William Afton on the list?! AND requests open??? Oh lawd… could we get something with ftm!William and his problematic young male employee who he uses as stress relief by letting him fuck him over his desk, or having him down under his desk eating him out 🤕🤒 I’m ill for that old man
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William's Puppy
dom!bottom!ftm William x sub!top!amab Reader
🔪 Word Count: 1,427 🔪
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AFAB Language Used | I uh... got a lil carried away .....
CW: Boss/Employee Relationship, Cunnilingus, Pet Play (Reader gets called puppy and wears collar + leash), Handjob, Begging, Cum Swallowing, Teasing, Desk Sex, Creampie
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You're not the greatest employee ever, you’ve been fired multiple times because of your attitude. The only reason William hired you is because of your looks. When he gave you the job, he told you he wouldn't fire you but discipline you instead. You need a job so you agreed.
Your first lesson was when you talked back to a rude patron and got sent to his office. You looked at him with the assumption that you’ll get some sort of work related punishment like cleaning the floor or getting your pay docked.
“An attitude is one thing but cursing someone out? You’ll make the company look bad if I let you go back to work.”
You lower your head in shame. It's hard to keep up appearances when people are such assholes. It's not your fault customers are entitled.
“So, I’ll give you a different job.”
You perk up.
“You’ll be my assistant from now on. I expect you to be at my beck and call, understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m a little tired from having to deal with your case, how about you help relieve some of my stress?” He unbuckles his belt and you immediately understand what's going on. He motions for you to come over and pulls off his pants then his underwear. You walk over to his side of the desk and crawl under when he instructs you to. You're not going to deny the opportunity to not only eat out your boss but also potentially fuck him too. You’d be an idiot if you did. You drag your tongue up his cunt before fully diving in. You've already fallen in love with his taste. “Just like that..” He grins. He throws his head back and murmurs praises to you, his voice getting more and more unsteady the longer you eat him out.
You're unbelievably hard but you don't even make an attempt to touch yourself. You have a feeling he wouldn't like that so you focus completely on his pleasure.
William lets out a particularly loud moan before grabbing the back of your head and desperately grinding against your face, stopping you from getting air. You don't have to worry about your oxygen for long though, thanks to William coming on your face.
William lets go of you and the both of you take a few moments to catch your breaths. He wipes your face with his hand, brushing away his hair and slick. You watch him pull his pants back up and return to a presentable state, realizing he's not going to let you fuck him today. He notices your boner and decides to take pity on you. He didn't plan on it initially but how could he leave such a cute puppy to deal with their boner alone? “Get up.” He orders. You get out from under his desk and stand up. “Sit.” He points to the chair you were previously sitting in.
You immediately take a seat. William walks over to you and sits on your lap. He leans into your ear. “You did so well, puppy.” He says, unzipping your fly and pulling out your cock. “You deserve a reward.” He spits on his hand and slowly begins to jerk you off.
You lean back, letting out low moans of pleasure. It feels amazing despite the slow pace.
William shifts in his place so that he's sitting on your thigh, rather than your lap. He starts grinding down on you and brings you into a sloppy kiss. He picks up the pace by a lot, roughly but pleasurably jerking you off. You feel like you're on cloud 9. Your combined body heat is making you lose your mind. You start to lose track of time, only acknowledging the pleasure you feel and the man on top of you.
He slowly pulls away from the kiss and looks at you with a smile. He can tell you’re close. “You wanna come, don't you?” He grips your cock, just tight enough to make you whimper. You nod your head rapidly.
“Then beg like a good boy.”
“Please let- let me come, sir~” You beg. He resumes his movements until you come, his hand manages to catch your cum before it can get anywhere else. He brings his cum covered hand to his face and licks up all of your cum. “Th- thank- thank you, sir-”
William gently grips your neck, rubbing his thumb on your skin. “Your neck seems empty…” He frowns without any real sadness behind it. You look at him like an excited pup, knowing exactly what he's trying to say. He smiles at your reaction. “I’ll make sure to fix this.” He kisses your cheek. “See you on Monday.”
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William hands you a gift box. You open it with excitement and grin when you see a collar inside. Instead of a bell, there's a heart charm with “Property of William Afton” engraved on the back of it.
William takes out the collar and orders you to kneel, which you do without a second thought. He puts the collar on for you, making the situation feel more intimate than before. He turns around and grabs a leash, connecting it to your collar. “Watch me.” He orders. You stare at him intensely as he slowly removes his clothes, practically teasing you. His shoes and socks go first, then his tie, and then he slowly unbuttons his shirt. He takes it off completely and then throws it aside. His pretty looking nipples catch your eye and then you notice his happy trail, which leads to the breathtaking pussy you’ve been fantasizing about the entire weekend. It feels agonizingly slow as he unbuckles his belt and unzips his slacks. You start drooling in anticipation, making him chuckle. He pulls his pants off and then sits up on his desk, which he cleared earlier.
He spreads his legs and teasingly rubs himself through his light colored boxers, his slick steadily bleeding through the fabric. Your cock is practically weeping. Turned on by your expression, William decides to stop teasing you. At least with this method. He pulls his underwear off and beckons for you to come over. You stand up and stand in between his legs. He hooks his legs around your waist and forces you to get closer, so close that your clothed boner is against his bare cunt. He grabs your leash and brings you into a kiss. He rubs his pussy against your hard-on, drenching your pants in his slick. He's making this so hard for you. It takes a lot of strength to be able to hold back. You have to go against your instincts and let him take the lead.
He pulls away from the kiss and finally decides to grant you your wish. “Strip.” He commands. You excitedly remove all your clothes. William looks at your throbbing cock with pity.
“Can I put it in, sir?” You ask, completely unable to mask your excitement.
“Of course.”
Despite your eagerness, you gently hold his waist and slowly ease your way inside William’s soft walls. You bite down on your lip as you enter his wet heat, trying not to come before you can even bottom out. He notices this and chuckles. You're so cute to him. You don't realize until it's too late but you were gripping him too hard.
“Sorry-” You loosen your grip.
“Be as rough as you want. Who am I to stop you from following your instincts?” William smiles. He knew exactly how his words would impact you. You go back to roughly gripping his waist and shove your cock all the way inside, earning a sexy moan from the man beneath you. You immediately start rutting into him, fucking his tight heat with desperation and vigor. You let out a string of curses and praises, raving about how good he feels.
You lean into his neck, breathing heavily as you fuck him. He can hear you even more clearly now. He especially enjoys it when you whine. You take one of your hands away from his waist and bring it to his dick. He gasps and starts to moan even louder as you please his most sensitive area.
“Yes– keep going~” William moans.
Surprisingly, William is the first to reach his orgasm. Unsurprisingly, the feeling of him clenching around your cock causes you to come next. You slow down before stopping completely to catch your breath. You move away from his neck and look at him.
He pets you. “Good job, puppy.”
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gojoux · 8 months
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『 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 』
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· Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader
· Summary: Gojo never felt truly cared for besides from his best friend who had parted ways. In his doubtful phase, he keeps asking the question why would you care so much for him?
· CW: 5.8k // Hurt/Comfort. Fluff. Angst. Gojo in badmood. Gojo against the world, maybe. Reader's patience is as thick as Toji's biceps but also as thin as his pet worm's hair.
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You're sitting with Shoko in the classroom across from each other as you eat your lunch. “Have you heard anything from Satoru?” You ask her, wondering where the talkative lanky man is. You always call him by his given name when you're talking about him with Shoko, but never in front of him.
Shoko gives you a sad smile as she shakes her head. “No, not recently. The last time we talked was just before winter break. He came to me to ask a few things, that was it.” She pauses for a moment before looking at you. “Is something wrong?”
“Winter break?” You ask quietly, your eyebrows furrowing slightly. “But, that was two weeks ago.” You frown.
“I have to assume there's a good reason for it. You know, missions? He wouldn't leave without telling anyone unless something serious came up.” She shrugs. “Then again, he never tells me anything.”
You know how things are different now, things have changed. Maybe he did change, too? You can't help but wonder, you always found him quite mysterious despite his big mouth.
Ever since Geto's departure, Gojo has been going out on more missions. After one is done, he goes for another one. No stopping, no breaks.
You let out a tired sigh, the feeling of anxiousness keeps coming back whenever you're thinking about his whereabouts. “I'm just... worried. You know how it is...”
Shoko puffs her cigarette to the side. “I'm sure he's fine. Just because he's out there hunting curses alone, doesn't mean we should be worried.” She takes another smoke from her cigarette. “Well, I have to say, I'm quite worried for his health. Too much use of his Six Eyes could burn his brain to crisp.”
“I can't believe that I'm saying this but,” you rest your head on your folded arms on the table. “I miss him, Shoko,” you say quietly, looking at the wooden surface of the table up close.
She raised her eyebrow at you. “You miss Gojo?” She pauses, her voice softer. “What could you possibly miss about that guy?” She glances across the table at you.
“Oh, come on.” You groan quietly. “He's annoying, but he's... I don't know, likable?” You say unsurely because you know damn well that everyone in school, and the higher-ups, definitely won't think Gojo is likable. Well, not in a bad way, but he's not exactly unlikeable either.
It's hard to explain because he's just, him. A complex individual. And everybody have their own thoughts about him.
“You have to be kidding.” Shoko looks at you amused. “Likable isn't the word I'd use to describe him.” She pauses. “But, I guess I know what you mean. He's not all that bad once you get used to him.”
“Maybe you missed him because he hasn't been picking on you lately,” she says with a small chuckle as she puts off her cigarette. “Pshh, why would you think that?” You roll your eyes at her suggestion, brushing off her words with a hand gesture.
Then, the table vibrates suddenly. Shoko frowns at the sound of the phone ringing, noticing it was hers. She reaches over and grabs her phone, glancing at the screen. Turns out she was called to the school's infirmary, asking her to heal another sorcerer after a mission.
Shoko sighs and stands up from the table. “Duty calls.” She pauses. “I'll see you later, alright?” She smiles at you, heading off from the classroom after you wave your hand as a farewell.
As you continue to eat your lunch alone, another vibration could be felt from the table, this time it's yours. With a small groan, you look down at your phone in your hands. A text message has appeared on your screen. It's a message from Gojo Satoru.
I'm at school. A simple text to confirm his well-being.
Your eyes light up at the text before you quickly type in, where are you?
You huff when you didn't receive any reply. You haven't seen Gojo in a while so you quickly left your lunch to search for him while you sense his cursed energy.
You found it. You can sense him on the training field. You make your way there to find Gojo. The sky is overcast when you arrive at the training field. The wind blows around you, rustling the grass. When you reach the side of the field, you see a figure standing in the distance, his head angled down. His arms are crossed, creating a shadow across his face.
He glances up as you approach. “You found me.” His voice is calm, his eyes betraying no emotions. “Gojo?” You call out his name quietly. He looks different than the last time you saw him, he looks more somber.
Gojo's eyes meet yours. “Yeah... it's me.” He looks away from you again, “Are you here to scold me? For leaving without telling anyone?” There's a faint edge of bitterness in his voice. “If you came by to scold me for running off, then don't even bother.” His eyes are cold, unreadable.
You were taken aback by the drastic change of attitude. It's not the usual cheery and playful Gojo Satoru you know. “Have you been taking more missions?” You ask carefully like you're walking on eggshells around him. “You look... tired.”
His gaze sharpens as he glances at you. “More missions than usual... yeah.” He pauses, his voice quieter. “I'm trying to keep myself busy.” There's a hint of melancholy in his voice as he talks.
“Some more difficult than others.” His voice trails off. “I don't want to be stuck in my thoughts when I'm at the dorm.” He glances away.
“Right...” You feel awkward after he's done talking. It's just the tone that he uses makes you feel unfamiliar with this ‘new’ Gojo.
“Are you... going on a mission soon?” You ask quietly, hoping he would say no or the very least, not soon. You just want him to rest.
“Yeah,” he replies simply. He glances around the field. “The old geezers keep pushing me to take on more missions, the threat of cursed spirits isn't getting any less. They want me to keep exorcising them." He looks back at you.
“I'm heading out tomorrow to deal with a colony of spirits that have been plaguing the city. It's a relatively small job for me.” His voice is nonchalant as if he were talking about any ordinary night.
“That soon? Shouldn't you be resting after all that missions?” You raise a brow at him.
Gojo turns towards you. “Resting is for the weak.” He crosses his arms, his gaze piercing. “I'm not weak.” He pauses. “I don't need a break.” He glances away from you, his eyes flicking across the training field.
You scoff to the side, shaking your head at his response. ‘He's like a child. So stubborn, too.’ You think. But you can't really blame him for feeling like this.
When he speaks again, his voice sounds more tired. “Besides... if I stop and rest, I'll just go back to thinking about him.” He pauses. “And I don't want that right now.”
“Look,” you try to find a word to convince him, “Just— take a break for a few hours, okay? You can go again later.” You try to persuade him. “The city won't fall apart if you're absent for a while, you know that's not how it works.”
“Of course, I know that.” He lets out an irritated huff. “I'm not stupid. I'm just... busy.” He glances away from you again, his gaze piercing the sky as he thinks.
“Besides, what if the curse spirits get worse while I'm gone? What if they're able to cause some serious damage while I'm sitting in my room on my ass.” He turns his attention back to you. “And you know I can't let that happen.”
“I know that." You let out an exasperated sigh. “There are other capable sorcerers who can take the mission, not just you.” You remind him. You stay quiet for a while, letting out another sigh. “Only for a few hours, please?” You offer again as you take note of how tired he looks.
He scoffs quietly, but his tone is less aggressive than before. “Fine. A few hours.” He sighs in defeat as his hands slip into his pockets.
“Did you come all the way here just to tell me that?” He tilts his head slightly at you. “Maybe.” You shrug nonchalantly, even though deep in your heart, you're worried about him. You want to care for him.
“Can I ask you a question?” His tone is more casual. “Yeah, sure.” You nod at him. Gojo's eyes shift back to the training field. “Why do you care? I thought I was annoying.” The tone of his voice is flat.
“I'm not weak and I don't need your pity. I can handle a few missions.” He tilts his head, his gaze piercing. “Why do you worry for me so much?” His voice is softer, not as cold as before.
“You actually care what I think of you?” You can't help but let out a small chuckle. “I can't deny that.” You ignore his question.
Gojo raises an eyebrow at you, his expression blank. “What's that supposed to mean?” He tilts his head to the side. “Are you trying to imply that I care about what you think of me? If so, I can assure you that isn't true.” He frown. “I don't give a damn about what other people think of me.”
“Right.” You hum casually. “You're the Gojo Satoru after all, why should you care?” You answer back with his words. “For your question, I do care, I won't deny that, too,” you answer him shortly.
His eyes shift back towards you as he listens to your answer. “You care for me?” He tilts his head in disbelief. “You always say I was nothing but annoying and a pain in the ass to you.” He tilts his head to get a better look at you. “Why?”
You smile at his response. ‘You do care what I think after all.’ You think to yourself.
“Well,” you thought of many things to say to him. Anything about him that makes you care for him so much. Anything about him that makes you like him so much. All despite his antics and shenanigans.
You hold your words behind your tongue, thinking that it's best to keep your true feeling hidden from him for now. “Just because,” you say simply, giving him a smile.
His face remains blank as he listens to you. After a moment of silence, a small smirk creeps back onto his face. “That's probably the worst excuse I've ever heard.” He pulls his hands out of his pockets.
“I can tell you're lying.” His smirk quickly turns into another frown. “At least I know you care enough to lie to me.” He narrows his eyes as he looks at you. “Don't be a coward about it. Just admit the reason you care for me. I won't judge you.”
You huff at his response. “I will tell you next time. Now come on, you agreed to take some rest.” You don't know what came after you, but without wasting more time, you grab his hand and lead him away from the training field.
He glances down at your hand as you hold onto his. He looks up at you and sighs. “Are you going to drag me back to the dorm... or something?” He sounds unamused.
However, he doesn't try to pull his hand out of your grasp. He simply follows along as you lead the way in front of him.
“Yeah, got to make sure you're actually going to rest. And what's a better place here than your own room?” You say as you both enter the dorm hall.
He doesn't say anything else as you lead him to his room. He glances up at you as you enter, still holding your hand. Gojo's face softens somewhat.
“What's this about, really? You seem awfully persistent about this.” He tilts his head in curiosity. “You want to cuddle with me or something?”
“What? Pfft, no.” You shake your head with a chuckle. “Now, go, go. Have some sleep.” You open the door of his room, and let his hand go from your hold before pushing him inside. “Just rest, okay? No hard thinking.”
Gojo grumbles with annoyance. “Alright, alright...” He enters the room and sits on his bed. “I'm not thinking too hard.” He looks up at you, crossing his arms. It's like he's a sulking child.
However, after a few seconds, he sighs. He glances down at his room floor, his body language stiff. He plops himself down on his bed and rolls on his back, closing his eyes as he relishes the soft mattress on his back.
“Fuck... I guess I do need that sleep.” He turns around to face you. “Come on, just sit in here with me. I don't think I can sleep with you outside.”
This time, you raise a brow at him. “Huh?” You look at him dumbfounded by his out of nowhere suggestion. “You want me to stay with your or something? I can leave you alone if you want.”
Gojo's eyebrow twitches slightly. “I can handle sleeping alone.” He pauses, his expression shifting once more. “But... it gets lonely at times.”
He looks away from you. “It's... stupid I know, but I don't like the quiet when I'm alone.” His voice dropped to a quiet, hushed whisper.
“So... can you stay?” He shifts on his bed uncomfortably since he knows that this is unlike his usual self. “Please?”
You look at him amused as you lean on the door, internally laughing at his drastic change of attitude. You can't believe your ears when he said ‘please’, but you stay quiet, just wanting to drag this situation longer for your amusement.
It's rare to see him like this. Especially with those eyes and his pout, how can you resist, really?
“Come on... Just stay by my side for 30 minutes. I think if I feel your presence here, I'll feel better. I promise I won't bother you or anything.” He says once more. “Just... give me some company for a while.”
“Besides, I thought you cared for me?” He tilts his head to the side, a hint of tease is evident in his tone. He sits up a bit, resting his back against the pillows, waiting for you.
“Okay, okay.” You push yourself off the door before closing it. You walk towards his bed, and his expression softens as you sit down on his bed.
When he finally speaks, his voice is calm and relaxed. His eyes stare at you, a hint of vulnerability in them. “You know you didn't have to agree right away.”
“You're right,” you answer him lightly, your eyes looking around his room. He looks at you in silence, admiring your side profile before speaking, “Can I ask you another question?”
“Shoot.” you turn your head at him, waiting for his other question.
“Why... do you suddenly care so much for me?” Gojo looks at you seriously. "I know you always thought I was annoying and I didn't care if our relationship was hostile or not, but now you're acting like I'm some sort of important person to you.”
“I don't understand what changed.” He shifts his gaze away from you, turning towards the window instead. “And I don't get why you're trying to hide it either.”
You stare at him quietly, your eyes shifting down to his bed, and then the table beside it before returning to him.
You reach your hand towards his glasses, hooking a finger onto the bridge before taking it off from him gently, revealing the vibrant blue of his eyes, before putting the glasses on the table.
“You want me to answer that?” You ask back as you think how would you answer the question he's been wondering since you meet in the training fields.
Why do you care?
Why should you care?
Why?
“Yes.” He sounds serious as he looks at you again, not blinking. “Because I need to know.”
“You're hiding behind this facade you call ‘cool and laid back’, but it's pretty obvious that you're trying to hide something from me.” He stays quiet for a moment. “Why?”
You're stunned. You glance away, thinking of what you should answer him. And you can't help but think of how lonely he actually is to the point he seems to be in disbelief that someone does genuinely care for him.
He motions for you to go on. “So? Answer the question.” He sounds impatient, his expression still hard. His gaze doesn't waver as he waits for you to explain yourself.
“I don't know how to explain it to you." You finally answer. “I just care, I really do. Shoko, too, and Yaga as well. Even Nanami who always looks so annoyed around you. Those who are close to you care about you, Gojo. You're our friend.”
He furrowed his eyebrows at your answer. “I never asked you to care about me.” He sounds blunt as he glances back down at the bed, trying to ignore you for a few moments.
He stays quiet again, thinking about your answer. “You don't know how to explain it, huh?” He sighs. “So your only response is to keep being vague and beat around the bush.” He narrows his eyes at you.
“Are you saying that you feel that you have an obligation to care about me because you know people who also do?” He's clearly annoyed by your answer. “Are you doing it out of guilt?” He sounds irritated as he gazes out of the window.
You let out another exasperated sigh at his response. It's clear that he doesn't really get this concept of care from other people.
His clan doesn't care for him as a person, let alone the elders. He grows up spoiled rotten, not out of care, but out of obligation. That's just how it is.
“That's not it!” You raise your voice in annoyance to deny his words. His bad mood starting to affect your own. “What's so hard to understand for you that I genuinely care? It's my choice to care for you because I just do!”
Gojo stays quiet as he listens to you snap at him. A slight frown comes onto his face when he hears your tone. “You just care? Just like that. There's nothing else behind it.” His voice is incredulous as he glares at you.
“Just give me a straight answer.” His eyes scan over you, looking for something. He stares at you defiantly, waiting for your response.
You look at him in disbelief before scoffing, “What else do you want me to say? ‘I like you that's why I care’ or something?” You shake your head after you said the first line mockingly.
“Yes, that's exactly what I want you to say.” His voice is sharp as he continues to glare at you. “Or at least, something along those lines.” He mumbles the finishing sentence.
“I want to know why you care for me. Tell me why.” He seems determined to get you to answer. His eyes narrow further, his gaze piercing. “You're not leaving this room until you give me an answer.”
“Fine, alright, since you're so damn stubborn about it.” You roll your eyes in annoyance. “I care for you as a friend, and I also care for you because I like you more than just a friend. There, happy?” you answer.
“You're so insufferable,” you grumble to yourself, crossing your arms and your body turning away from him.
Gojo looks at you with wide eyes as he tries to process what you just said. His shock continues to linger, making it difficult for him to speak. He looks taken aback at your response, and a smile breaks out on his face. “You like me?” His voice sounds soft, his tone completely shifting.
He scoots closer to you on the bed, almost hesitant. “Is that why you care for me?” He glances at you over your shoulder. “Am I hearing this right?”
After a moment, he leans forward and rests his head on your shoulder. “Thank you.” He sounds genuine as he continues to lean on you. You were stunned once more, but this time because of his unusual tone.
You stay quiet at his reaction, your heart beating fast as you try to process what's going on with his head resting on your shoulder. “Are you pretending to be clueless or are you just that oblivious?” You huff, not looking at him. Your face is heating up when you just realized what you said earlier.
“I'm not pretending to be clueless.” Gojo's voice is softer, almost gentle. “I've always wondered if you care for me as a friend or if there's a hidden meaning behind it. I was hoping it's the latter, but I kept denying it to myself."
He remains still in his position, comfortably leaning against you. His gaze studies your face intently. He scoots even closer to you, his arm wrapping around your waist from behind.
“I like you too,” he whispers. He closes his eyes, nuzzling his face against your shoulder. Gojo's lips curl into a smile as he takes a slow, comfortable breath. You turn your head to the side to take a look at him.
“I've been dropping hints at you since forever, but I've always told myself it must have been a mistake when you replied the same way.” His face is still buried onto your shoulder as he speaks. “I always wondered if you secretly liked me too.”
You could only listen in silence, and your body slowly turning to him from the edge of the bed. You notice his eyes flick down toward your lips. “Am I that clueless, or did I know this whole time?” He pauses and glances back over his shoulder at your face. “It's hard to tell.”
His lips curls upwards as he stares at you, and slowly leans forward towards you. He doesn't look away, watching your face with intent.
His words are quiet, a gentle whisper. “What would you do if I suddenly kissed you right now?”
You didn't expect telling him to rest would end up to this. You stayed here because he asked you to company him, not at all imagining that this would be the place and time where the feelings would flow out.
“You do realize you should be resting by now, right?" You ask back, your voice equally quiet. You admire his handsome face up close. His eyes hold power and beauty, down to the shape of his nose, and down to his plump, pink lips.
Gojo grin at your words. “I can always go to sleep after. I think I have time for this.” His eyes flicker along your jaw, your neck, your lips. His breathing speeds up with each glance.
But finally, he leans in, his lips just a single inch away from touching yours. His eyes flicker downwards one last time. “Would you kiss me back?” He whispers, his voice just barely audible as if the volume was intentionally silenced.
“I don't know, would I?” You ask back again, secretly enjoying the closeness of your faces.
“Only one way to find out...” His eyes flutter closed as he leans forward. His lips touch yours for a brief moment, just a quick taste to test the waters. It's enough to make your heart skip a beat. His lips move slowly at first, but soon he presses his lips more on yours. He keeps one of his arms wrapped tighter around your waist to press his body more against your own, and the other one goes up to hold the back of your neck, pulling you closer.
Gojo's lips are soft and tender on yours, and he slowly runs his tongue against your mouth. His eyes are closed, but he knows where you are. He's focused entirely on how your lips feel against his. You could feel the way his tongue brushing against your lips, and pushing it lightly to part them open for him. You let out a small hum of contentment, feeling the lips of the man you've liked for quite a while is definitely a dream come true.
His tongue slips into your mouth, moving slowly against yours in a slow and gentle dance, his tongue brushing against yours and exploring every corner of your mouth. His breathing quickening ever so slightly as his body leans into yours. His hands go up to the back of your head as he continues to kiss you. As he tastes you, his kisses become more intense and more passionate. 
Once you feel the lack of air in your long, you pull back from the kiss, “Gojo—” you call out to him. He lets out a soft groan at your voice, and slowly pulls away, but only a little. “Satoru.” He corrects you, his lips remain close to yours as he runs his tongue along your lower lip. He pulls away again a little bit, and stares back at you. “What is it?” 
He catches his breath and lick his lips, which are now parted slightly and slightly moist from his saliva. He's more excited than he's been in a long time, like he finally got a breath of fresh air after being stuck underground. “I've wanted to kiss you for ages,” he says quietly, his expression still soft. His eyes flicker down to your lips and he smiles. “You taste delicious.”
“Thanks, you do, too.” You chuckle before pulling away and grabbing the blanket to cover him. “Now, time for bed.” You tuck him in like you're tucking a little child to sleep.
“Hey, what are you doing?” He complains as the blanket is pulled over him and wrapped him up in it. “I thought you said you cared for me! Why am I getting tucked in like a kid?” He looks up at you, his voice full of mock outrage. “I want kiss.” He pouts at you. 
‘He even whines like a child.’ You let out a chuckle at his antics. You ignore him, not giving him the kiss just yet.
“That's why I'm tucking you to bed, Satoru.” You adjust the blanket on his body, staring at his messy hair on the bed. His heart does a small flip, but he quickly hides it as he hears what you say.
He doesn't oppose as you cover him with the blanket. In fact, he looks like a contented child, enjoying the warmth of the blanket and your closeness to him. “How are you going to get sleepy now? I just gave you a big reason to stay awake.”
“Hush, it's time to sleep.” You answer immediately, earning you another look from him.
The covers rustle as he moves around, making himself more comfortable under the blankets. He reaches his hand out to you from under the covers. “Could I pull you in? With me? I don't want you to leave just yet.”
You nod at him. “I'll hold you to my chest instead, okay? You need some comfort now.” You place a hand on his cheek before caressing the soft skin with your thumb. “I will give it to you,” you add quietly, knowing well when you once again see closely to his tired face.
“You want to hold me?” He chuckles quietly. “I wouldn't want anything else.” His eyes flutter shut again as you run your thumb across his cheek. His body begins to relax as he enjoys your touch. “You're so sweet...” He mumbles quietly.
He let out a quiet sigh, his eyes still closed. “When did I begin to be so lucky? To have someone care for me so much?” He leans more onto your hand on his cheek, enjoying your gentle touch.
Gojo waits for you to lay down and get comfortable before pulling the covers over you both. After a moment, he lets his body settle closer to your own, letting you cradle him. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close. His face is pressed against your chest. 
You brush your fingers on his soft white hair, holding him close to you. You massage his head slightly once in a while. “You deserve it, Satoru. You really do,” you whisper onto his forehead before kissing it, your lips linger there for a while.
Gojo shudders a bit at your touch. He presses himself closer to you, letting his body sink into the comfort of your embrace. His hand brushes up and down your waist lovingly. You lift your head for a bit to give him another kiss on the temple.
“Mmm...” He sighs contently as he leans into you. His body sinks into yours, becoming one with the comfort and warmth of your touch. His eyes stay closed and his body becomes even more relaxed.
After a moment of silence and you thought he has already fallen asleep, he speaks again, “Do I?” He asks quietly, not quite believing what you just said.
“What am I really good for in the first place other than fighting cursed spirits?” A shadow of doubt flickered across his face. “Am I more than just a strong sorcerer?” 
You keep caressing his hair to bring him comfort. “You're more than just ‘The Strongest Sorcerer’. You're a human. A kind one deep down,” you answer him quietly. “Despite your upbringing." You add with a hint of playfulness as your hand goes down to pinch his nose between your finger before going back up. “And yes, you do deserve it. Never doubt that.”
His ears turns red as he hears your soft answer. He tries to hide it, but you can tell from his body language that he's happy.
“You think I'm kind?” He asks again, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I thought that's something I wasn't.” He chuckles. “Does it show when I'm with you?”
“It shows to other people without you realizing it. I know because I see it myself.” You give him another kiss on the forehead.
He takes in a few breaths as you hold him close, his face inches away from your chest. “It feels so nice to just... not be alone for a while.” His voice is soft and quiet, unlike the usual Gojo Satoru who annoys others for his entertainment.
You answer with a hum. He had lost his best friend, the one that sticks with him through thin and thick on every mission and obstacle. He had lost someone who doesn't makes him feel like he was alone.
“Can I ask you something else? This is the last one, I promise,” he mumbles onto your chest. “You ask a lot of questions today. What is it?” You chuckle but let him ask anyway.
“Why do you keep defending me?” He murmurs. “Why do you care whether I think I deserve it or not?” He tilts his head up to look back at you. “All of these compliments you keep giving me... what are you getting out of this exactly?” He waits for your response, his expression serious.
‘Here we go again.’ You sigh, and this time, you smile at his other why question. There is so much he wants to know, so much he needs to know. If that is what brings him comfort, then you'd gladly give the answer to him.
“Because... I love you.” You hush him up with a kiss, not caring that you just used a strong expression of words. “There, now go to sleep.” You hope this would clear his doubts, at least for a while.
His eyes widen at your reply, his expression is completely frozen after hearing your words. “What?” He asks quietly, wanting to make sure he heard it correctly. “You... love me?” 
After taking a few moments to compose himself, he slowly leans up and kisses you again. He kisses you passionately, putting the last of his energy into kissing your lips.
As he pulls away, he looks back at you. His eyes glimmer with tears that have yet to fall. “You love me?” He whispers again.
“Yes. I do.” You nod at him with a smile. Your thumb brushes against his cheek once more, shifting a bit up to caress the skin below his eye, looking into his teary eyes.
His head sinks into the crook of your neck as a tear rolls down his cheek. “Y-You love me?” He murmurs once more, sounding overwhelmed with emotion as he looks back up at you. “What am I supposed to do when the person I like, the person I've been thinking about this entire time, actually loves me back?”
“Hmmm, I wonder.” You caress the back of his hair, your fingers brushing against his hair, as you let him hide his face in the crook of your neck again. 
He presses himself against you, his body flushes against yours. His arms around your waist tighten its hold. He buries his face against your neck as he nuzzles into your skin.
He closes his eyes and presses his lips against your neck, enjoying the comfort of the moment. “Your skin is... so much warmer than I imagined it'd be.” He whispers to you. His lips graze against your neck as he presses in.
“Can you... Can you hold me for a bit longer?” He whispers. “Could I sleep in your arms for a while more?” You kiss his forehead once again. “I can hold you for as long as you want me to.” You assure him.
His face lights up when he hears your answer. “For as long as I want you to?” He sounds surprised. His arms squeeze around your waist. “Do you promise you won't tire of me? I might not want to leave.”
“Then, don't leave. I want you here with me.” You say quietly. Now that you have him, you want him all for yourself, and you promise yourself to never let him go.
He smiles at your words and nuzzles your neck with his lips. “Well, my favorite place in the world is close to you.” He wraps himself fully around you and buries his face in your shoulder, wanting nothing more than to stay like this for a while.
“I'll never get tired of you, never.” You assure him again. A smile breaks out on his face as a soft chuckle escapes his lips. “You'll never get tired of me?” He whispers to you, his words coming out soft and sweet. He holds you tighter to him, his face still buried against your neck. “Don't make promises you can't keep. I think I'm just that easy to dislike.”
“Not me. Nothing else should matter. I like you, and I love you. I could only hope that's enough to ease you, even just a bit.” You nuzzle your nose on his forehead.
He smiles at you, his eyes slowly fluttering close. “That's more than enough to ease me.” His voice trails off as he lets himself fall asleep. His breathing deepens as he enters into a peaceful slumber.
He's truly comfortable in your arms, his body relaxed against you. He's happy to be with you, happy to be held by you, and happy to be cared for by you.
He dreams that when he wakes up, you would pamper him with the love and care he'd always wanted. A genuine feeling that has managed to warm a place in his heart that he never knew he needed, all that in you, the person he loves.
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Let me just test the waters (˃ ᵕ ˂) I'm soft for him.
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alwaysmoncheri · 1 month
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summary: you’re starting to feel a little insecure among the other women in the bau, but spencer notices and silences your worries
cw: female!reader, kissing, fluff, cheesy writing, like one sexual innuendo from derek ( what’s new ? ), mutual pinning, insecurities, anxiety, comparisons of looks to others, 925, spencer reid x reader
<3
you sit at your desk in the bustling bau office, surrounded by the brilliant minds and gorgeous faces that make up the team. as you sift through case files and organize data, you can't help but feel a subtle twinge of insecurity. the women in the bau are a formidable force – confident, competent, and effortlessly balancing the demands of the job with their own personal charm.
emily prentiss exudes authority, her presence commanding respect. jj effortlessly juggles motherhood and her role in the unit, displaying a poise you can't help but admire. penelope garcia's vibrant personality seems to light up the room, and you wonder if your more reserved nature fits into this dynamic team.
amidst the collective intelligence and strength, you find yourself questioning your place. your eyes wander to the mirror on your desk, and for a moment, you scrutinize your reflection. the nagging thought that you don't quite measure up to the elegance and confidence of your female colleagues lingers in the back of your mind.
as the day progresses, you try to focus on the tasks at hand, pushing aside the self-doubt that threatens to overshadow your abilities. spencer reid, the brilliant and socially awkward genius, that you love, is engrossed in his work on the other side of your adject desks. you've always admired his intellect, the way his mind operates on a different plane, and you’ve shamelessly loved him ever since you’d first met. 
the team engages in discussions, exchanging ideas and theories. spencer, as usual, offers his insights with a level of eloquence that captivates everyone in the room. yet, in the midst of the professional banter, you can't shake the feeling that you fall short in comparison. you not only feel as though your mind can’t contribute the same thoughts and helpful comments as the rest of the team but you feel a tinge of insecurity toward your appearance. the way you look is far from beauty standards, you try to put on make-up but it never turns out to look like emily, jj, or penelope’s. 
in a rare moment of respite, you find yourself alone near the coffee machine where you pull out your compact and check your reflection in the mirror. the longer you look at yourself, the more flaws you seem to find, and the more you think about the group’s discussions, the more judgment you feel toward yourself. 
spencer notices you from the doorway and he frowns before proceeding any closer. when you finally notice him grabbing himself a fresh cup of coffee, you snap your compact closed as if you’ve been caught. spencer glances at you, his expression kind but perceptive. "everything okay?" he asks, his tone gentle.
you hesitate for a moment, then decide to be honest. "I don't know, spencer. I can't help but feel a bit out of place sometimes. I mean, look at the other women in the bau. they're all so... confident and put together. I don't know if I fit in."
spencer furrows his brow, considering your words carefully. "you know, I used to feel the same way when I first joined the bau. I was the youngest, and everyone seemed so sure of themselves. but confidence isn't always about how put together someone is. it's about knowing your worth and embracing your differences."
his words resonate with you, and for a moment, the weight on your shoulders seems to lift. "but look at them," you gesture towards your female colleagues and spencer follows your gaze, "they are all so... stunning. I can't help but feel like I don't quite measure up." you admit sheepishly and spencer immediately understands your insecurity. 
spencer's eyes soften, and he offers a small, understanding smile. "beauty is subjective, and everyone has their own unique qualities. it's not just about appearances; it's about the way you carry yourself, your intelligence, your kindness. you have your own charm, and you're more than enough just the way you are." spencer explains, hesitantly touching your shoulder and softly rubbing up and down. his reassurance is like a soothing balm, calming the storm of self-doubt that rages within you. the way he sees beyond the surface, acknowledging your strengths, makes you feel valued in a way you hadn't anticipated.
“thank you, spence.” you whisper, turning to face him with a hint of a smile. 
"you're an incredible person," spencer states, his voice sincere as he nods his head at your thanks. "and I'm grateful to have you as a colleague and a friend."
you can’t help but smile, feeling a warmth in your chest. spencer's acknowledgment goes beyond professional; it speaks of the genuine connection between the two of you. a connection that often brought constant teasing from other members of the bau team. you know you aren’t really just friends, but you enjoy spencer’s statement nonetheless.  
“let’s go loverbirds, you’ve been on break for long enough,” derek calls from just outside the doorway, “plenty of time to do whatever you were doing.” he adds, wiggling his eyebrows at the two of us. 
spencer’s face turns beat red while you roll your eyes with a smile tugging at your lips. you then lean up to give spencer a quick kiss on his jaw and whisper another quick thank you. you turn on your heel and walk out the door, turning one last time to see spencer’s mouth slightly agape and cheeks even rosier than before. you smile to yourself, now knowing that you have no reason to be insecure, and spencer helped you realize that. 
masterlist . spencer reid masterlist . taglist
thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!
alwaysmoncheri © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.
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risuola · 3 months
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I DON'T NEED MISTLETOE TO KISS YOU — F. READER x SUKUNA RYOMEN, who doesn’t exactly agree with your human traditions
It is the first Christmas party Sukuna ever went to and it’s really safe to say that most of the traditions are surreal, borderline absurd to him. Especially the one with the hanging weed…? A mistletoe? You couldn’t be serious when telling him that if he wants to kiss you, he needs to find himself underneath it with you.
cw: fluffy, suggestive?, lot's of kissing (duh), Sukuna has his own body and he's a grumpy old man — 2,5k words
kissmas masterlist
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There is a certain amount of respect Sukuna has grown to expect from people around him ever since he’s got a body of a human. Even though now somewhat mortal, he’s still a king of curses and that alone is enough of a reason to assume that he deserves some honors. You, of course, as his partner, are allowed to respect him a little less, but as Ryomen was sitting on the couch in the apartment you share, wearing the absolute atrocity that you called a Christmas sweater and listening to your rambling about a weird weed he wondered if it could still classify as “a little less”.
And it was a fact that you looked quite pretty in the little sweater-skirt combo you wore, the high socks made your thighs look absolutely delicious and the white, fluffy edges from the Santa hat you had on your head made you look almost too cute for your own good, but he wouldn’t be mad if you just shut up.
“Ryomen, are you even listening?” You whined, pointing a finger of accusation in his direction and, again, looking too adorable for your own safety with the pout your lower lip formed. It took the greatest art of control to not kiss it off your face immediately.
“No, honestly, not really,” he replied and it should touch him, the way you groaned upset, but at the same time he couldn’t help but find you oh-so-sweet at the moment. So sweet, in fact, that he’d gladly eat you.
“I was trying to get you into the Christmas spirit and you are ignoring me,” and you were pouting even more. Great. “It’s our first holidays together and it’s your first Christmas party in this era, you could pay me a little more attention.”
“No, I’m paying you all of my attention,” he retorted quickly, his eyes slowly scanning your figure from the tip of your head, down to your feet and back up. “I just tend to lose my interest when I hear something foolish.”
If you wouldn’t know the ex-curse well enough, you’d probably feel insulted, but thanks to the many months you’ve already spent with him, you know it’s just his way of expressing his thoughts. It made you sigh deeply.
“You are a human now, you know? You could indulge a little into our foolish traditions.”
“I am wearing this atrocity, am I not?” Sukuna scoffed, getting up and catching you quicker than you managed to run away from him. His strong, long arms wrapped around you, enclosing you in the warm embrace of his chest. “I admit, the human traditions were always below me. Even in my era, I never truly participated in whatever people were doing, but what you’re now telling me sounds straight up absurd to me. I mean, this… whatever the fuck that is. Weed thing with kissing?”
“It’s a mistletoe!”
“It’s preposterous,” he snapped quite softly, one of his hands sliding down your back and onto your ass. “I don’t need a mistletoe to kiss you and you have my word that I will snap the neck of anyone who dares to use this tradition to touch you.”
“You will not snap anyone’s neck, Sukuna Ryomen,” you warned, poking his chest with one of your prettily manicured fingers, the one on which you wear a ring he gifted you not too long ago – golden band with dark red diamonds embedded into the metal, the stones being a perfect representation of a color of his eyes. It was a warning, but he couldn’t help but smirk. “And during the party you will look for the mistletoe, otherwise you’re not allowed to kiss me.”
“You cannot be serious.”
“I am.”
And you were, to Sukuna’s greatest dismay, in fact avoiding his kisses as the evening went by. The party at Gojo’s apartment was annoying, but not nearly as much as the fact that you were just so damn stubborn. But you looked so pretty, all smiley and so open, he was willing to push through it all just to see your face twisted in so much happiness. It is, after all, only for you that he even agreed to come and surround himself with the celebrative aura that he had no will to understand. It was enough for him that you enjoyed it.
The apartment had been festively decorated for the holidays. Filled with the warm glow of Christmas lights that were scattered throughout the space, hanging from the walls and even wrapping around the legs of some of the furniture, along with the rows of ribbons and tinsel. A Christmas tree stood tall in the corner, decorated with sparkling ornaments and colorful lights, a large star on top of it. The party was already in full swing and the laughter and cheers of the guests warmed up the air, together with yummy smells of homemade treats, hot chocolate and mulled wine, the merriment adding to the festive magic. Everybody was chatting with one another, enjoying themselves and sharing stories, catching up on the holiday season, cherishing the time.
The music was playing softly in the background, the holiday hits spreading its warm melodies throughout the entire apartment, but in the midst of all the holiday cheer Sukuna’s attention was drawn to you. He watched you laughing and chatting with other guests, with people that usually he would hate but for you he forced himself to tolerate. He observed you mesmerized by your beauty, the way you moved, and though he had seen you countless times before, yet somehow it still never ceased to take his breath away. His eyes drank every detail of you, from the way your eyes sparkled just as brightly as the twinkle lights on the Christmas tree to your bright smile, the soft and subtle curve your lips had on all the time during the evening. He admired the way the few stray strands of hair had fallen from your hairdo and he could have sworn they were just for him to push back behind your ear. The cozy sweater you wore that though he deemed as atrocious, he couldn’t deny its vibrant colors made your skin tone pop. You were a sight to behold, an angel he knew he never deserved and yet, you were his. And yet, some of these beautiful smiles you aimed at him, and your hands searched for his, not caring at all about how much red and sorrow his skin had soaked during his lifetime.
“You’re not enjoying this, aren’t you?” Your soft, sweet voice poured into Sukuna’s mind, pulling him out the trail of thoughts and admiration.
“I couldn’t possibly care less about the Christmas spirit,” he replied, wrapping his arm around your waist as you sat down next to him on one of the sofas. Out of habit he leaned in to have a taste of your lips when you put a finger on top of his own. “What the fu—”
“Mistletoe, remember?” You grinned, a playful tease apparent in your voice.
“I already told you that I don’t need a mistletoe to kiss you, did I not?”
“You did but I also told you that you will need one during the Christmas party, didn’t I?” Your retort was both funny to him and annoying and if it wasn’t for you, he would have already snapped. There was a thin layer of patience Sukuna had and you were poking through this layer constantly, pushing his buttons and pulling on his nerves. He was ready to say something less than polite, when you spoke again, “please, ‘kuna, just for this night,” and the pout that your lips formed made it just that much harder for him to not kiss it away.
Ryomen found it comedic, really. He was considered the strongest of them all, the King of Curses feared for hundreds of years and yet when he was with you, he felt like he could melt into your arms and soften. As he stood in the face of danger, he never felt fear. Whether he was battling nations, facing enemies who had never seen defeat or fighting back a raging fire, his strength and determination never faltered. He was used to people looking up to him, he was used to giving orders and degrade the pawns and yet with you he let his guard down. In your presence, he felt comfortable and at peace with things he would never consider himself doing. The sweater you made him wear, he wouldn’t ever even think of putting on because someone asked. The party he was now sitting through, he would never attend if it wasn’t for you. And most importantly, there was no way throughout heaven and hell that someone would tell him what he can and cannot do, except from you. You were his weakness and his strength and he knew he would do anything for you, gladly following you to the ends of earth. The very thought of hurting you sent a chill down his spine, you had the power to make him forget everything else in the world and when everyone else would cause his blood to boil, you had the ability to unleash a huddle of butterflies into his stomach. It took him a thousand years to feel something like this. Your love was the only thing that truly scared him, the force that rendered the king completely powerless. But he wouldn’t have it any other way and though it made him conflicted, he was willing to follow the silly tradition just to see you smile. But on his own conditions.
“Fine.” He grumbled, a smirk already forming on his lips and just by the look of him you knew there’s an idea blooming in his head and for a moment you wondered if you should be worried or not. He wasn’t going to do anything inappropriate in here, right?
“Love you,” you whispered to him to award his willingness to bend his own rules and even gave him the softest of pecks onto his temple before you got back to chatting with your friends. Sukuna was, let’s say, okay with coming to the party but it didn’t mean he was going to carelessly chat with sorcerers. He already spent some unwanted time with the brat Yuji, wondering why on earth was that kid so happy. Needless to say, Sukuna was vibing much more with Megumi.
As the time was passing and your boyfriend was looking uncharacteristically relaxed in the festively twinkling surrounding, you managed to feel more at ease as well. You felt the slight burden at first, that you forced him to take part in something he had no wish to participate, something as odd and unknown to his nature as friendly people gathering but turned out he was able to push through the party and not kill or threaten anyone too much. He was sitting so calmly that you managed to forget about the mistletoe.
That’s why it took you by the biggest surprise when the strong, familiar arms wrapped around your middle as you got to the balcony to breathe some air and cool yourself, the hot chocolate in your system making a great job at raising your body temperature.
“Got you,” Sukuna’s low tone sounding right next to your ear made you smile and you turned in his embrace to face him. He pulled you close, pressing his large body against yours. “And I also got this,” he chuckled, showing you the little branch of mistletoe that he most likely salvaged from the much bigger bouquets inside Gojo’s apartment. He gave you no time to respond when he pressed his lips to yours, kissing you deeply. The impact of his passion pushed you back and as your butt touched the railings, instinctively you grabbed onto him more, melting into safety of his form. If your mind wouldn’t be so consumed by the feeling of Ryomen’s lips on yours, you’d probably curse the seventeenth floor Satoru got his apartment on.
There was a hunger to the kiss, it was intense and the passion was electric. It felt like time stood still and all you could do was to lose yourselves in one another.You felt as if you were about to melt into your lover’s body, his warmth pulling you in like a magnet, closer and closer. You leaned into the warmth of his love that sheltered you from the chill air. His embrace made you feel the cold night slip away, when he kissed you, you felt like you and him were the only two people in the world. One kiss led to another and another kiss led to the tongues dancing to the melody of longing and desire. It was magical, it tasted sweet, it was addicting.
You were breathless when Sukuna pulled away, just enough to look at you. The cold winter wind blew through your hair and the knit of your sweater making you shiver as you stood on the balcony overlooking the world below and yet your cheeks were hot and flushed. He was looking at you for a moment, saying nothing but the silence was comfortable. He was examining your features, just softly washed over with the lights coming from inside the apartment. He watched the snowflakes stick to your hair and reddened cheeks and allowed his fingers to brush it away. Then he was kissing you again, pressing himself to you even harder, the kiss sizzling in the cold of the night.
As your lips met, your heartbeat began racing again. Every touch felt like a jolt of electricity, the rush of adrenaline filled both of you with ecstasy and lust that made you forget about the frigid winter air nipping at your nose. Your tongues danced and your breaths grew heavy. Sukuna’s hands were roaming around your body, exploring your curves and sneaking underneath your sweater, but the chill air that he invited there was no match for the heat his hands were leaving on your skin. It was as if he wanted to devour you right here and you couldn’t help but to touch him as well.
“’kuna—“ you whimpered against his lips, feeling his calloused fingers gripping your thigh. “Wait ‘till we get home.”
“Why would I? I got the weed,” he mumbled, a smirk apparent on his mouth as he let his other hand squeeze your butt.
“Yes, to kiss me, not to fuck me,” you chuckled, cuddling to his chest, seeking the heated safety his form provided.
“If you’re gonna tell me I need another herb to—”
“You don’t,” you cut him, giggling softly. “But the balcony at Gojo’s apartment, during the Christmas party is not the right time for that. Besides, I’m freezing, so let’s get back inside.”
Sukuna rolled his eyes and you couldn’t help but feel all giddy. Of course he was going to find a way to get what he wanted, and of course he was going to do it in the most scandalous way possible.
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blitzyn · 5 months
Text
rookie mistake
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dottore x m!reader
Request: Requests are open right? I hope so 🤞 Would I be able to ask for a sub!(male/amab)reader X dom!dottore? With some blackmail and coercion, preferably leaning towards dubious consent but I’m am a-ok with non-con elements, with a fatui/subordinate reader? If you could add in a small scene of him continuing while talking with someone outside the door that’s be awesome 😎 - Anonymous
Synopsis: You accidentally invade Dottore's office in search of intel.
a/n -> yall i know that i said i was on the fence about writing for genshin, but it was dottore and i love him plus i really liked this idea despite it having collected dust in my inbox for decades. whoever requested this: i love your mind and im so sorry it took me forever to decide to write this!! but just a reminder to whoever sees this, i will not be writing for fontaine unless stated otherwise!!
wc -> 3.6k
cw -> non-con, blackmail, coercion, blowjob, deepthroat, literally getting caught, spit as lube, anal fingering, anal sex, standing doggy position, fatuus/infiltrator reader, guys he calls you a rat because you're a spy, not beta read
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Your job was straightforward. But it was also one of the most grueling missions you've ever been assigned to.
With your status as an elite spy, you were tasked with infiltrating the Fatui as one of their ranks to gather information regarding the locations and purposes of specific forts to prevent potential attacks and keep the organization from acquiring knowledge valuable to their cause.
There was absolutely no room for error, lest you get caught and pay for that mistake with your life.
Fortunately enough, the mask everyone was required to wear (with the exception of the Harbingers) concealed your identity, allowing you to execute your orders with relative ease. Of course, it wasn't completely simple. You had to fight your way up the ranks in order to even get a hint of the plan from your superiors, which took years to even get recognized for your efforts.
Several times have you had to go against your moral compass. Several times, you doubted your abilities and questioned if you were even making a dent in the Fatui's plans. Although, when you heard a faint argument due to a lack of resources, you knew you were on the right track.
But one day, you noticed that an agent's office door was left unlocked. There was no one in the hallways, and not a soul knew that you had stolen an important document that recorded data for some valuable supply that you didn't care enough to read about.
Making sure you tucked the paper deep inside your coat pocket, you strained your ears to ensure you were alone before taking the risk and entering the isolated office. It looked like your standard room. Boring, silent, and strangely barren of many decorations. You took a moment to inspect the area before deciding to take a step forward when your blood suddenly ran cold.
"I don't use this office very often," a voice said from behind you. You just about jumped out of your skin, swiveling your head to the person behind you. It took you a moment to put a face to the name you'd heard so many times before, but when you did, you quickly regretted your decision to search for any additional information. "But even so, don't you think it's rude to invade someone's personal space?"
You froze, unable to find the right words. Nothing could explain why you were currently snooping around in an office that wasn't yours—much, much less when it belonged to the Second of the Eleven Harbingers.
You inwardly cursed your naive eagerness to do more than you were asked. Your years of experience as a spy should've kept you from making such a rookie mistake, and now all your work was going down the drain.
The two of you stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, fighting the urge to fidget at the overwhelming feeling of his gaze on you, analyzing your appearance. He broke the silence with a hum, neither intrigued nor entirely disappointed.
"I have heard others spread rumors of a mole within our ranks but thought nothing more of their words as an excuse for their inability to secure our resources," Dottore mused, raising a hand to his chin. "I assume that the mole is you?"
You couldn't bring yourself to reply. Your throat was dry, and your stomach twisted into knots. Not that he cared.
"I must applaud your efforts," he said, a slight smirk decorating his pale face. "Not many people evade our eyes so easily, and for as long as you have."
"But, a word of advice—" He reached into his pocket, pulling out a familiar device. He presented it to you, watching in amusement when you suddenly patted yourself down before looking back up towards him. It was the device you used to contact your organization. "—Make sure you clean up after yourself. It's impolite to leave your items lying around."
You don't remember dropping it or forgetting it somewhere. But that didn't matter anymore. You were stuck in the present with no way of getting out of this situation.
He flipped the device over, dully inspecting it as he continued talking. "After going through your data log, it wasn't hard figuring out what you were going for next. While this normally wouldn't spark any interest in me, this resource just so happens to be vital in my current experiment, and I can't have you tampering with my results."
He walked forward, stopping just a few feet in front of you. He was close enough for you to inhale his scent of sterile rubbing alcohol and metal. It made your nose burn as you watched him intently, tensing and fighting the urge to back away out of fear of angering him somehow. The document in your pocket felt unusually heavy.
"Although, I didn't expect such a seasoned spy like yourself to make such an amateur move," he hummed, ignoring your need for personal space to pull your mask off. And you were helpless against it all. "[Name] [L.Name], is it? Why don't you read the paper you have right now?"
That's when you knew you fucked up big time.
With a shaky hand, you reached into your coat pocket to pull out the report, unfolding it only to realize that it wasn't a report at all. It was a blank piece of paper. But you could've sworn there was writing on it when you grabbed it earlier!
He could see the confusion on your face clear as day as a laugh left his lips, tapping a rolled-up piece of parchment on the tip of your nose to regain your attention. "I believe this is what you're after." With a flick of his wrist, he unfurled the paper that contained everything you needed.
"What—" you gasped, briefly staring at your paper before looking back up.
"It's a shame you didn't think to check the ink before you took it," he said, faux disappointment laced in his voice before it reverted back to its normal tone just as fast. "The ink 'disappears' when subjected to anything higher than room temperature. When you put it in your pocket, your body heat, coupled with the insulation from your coat, affected the writing and turned it invisible."
Fuck.
He planned this out.
You swallowed nervously, taking a deep inhale to steel your nerves, even when it didn't do much to help you. "How... how long have you known?" you couldn't help but ask.
"Not long, really," Dottore casually replied, as if he didn't hold your entire life in the palm of his hand. "I caught you just in time."
"Now," he said with a voice that demanded your attention. Not that he needed to try, anyway. His very presence was almost impossible to ignore. "I'm willing to offer you two options. One, I hand this device over to one of my lovely agents and have them torture you for answers then promptly dispose of you. Or, two—" He waved the communicator in the air, taunting you. "—I have you make it up to me."
It was obvious which one you'd be more tempted to accept, but you knew that accepting an offer such as this from Dottore, of all people, was not a good idea. He knows he has you right where he wants you.
"The second one. I... I'll make it up to you." The words tasted like acid as you forced them out, watching a pleased smirk rise on his face.
"Good," he muttered mostly to himself. Leisurely, he turned around and walked towards the door, shutting it before refocusing back on you.
"Get on your knees," he ordered, placing his hands behind his back as he waited for you to move. He observed silently as you obeyed, staring at the floor in shame. "Crawl to me."
He sighed impatiently upon seeing the conflicted and perplexed expression on your face. "You want to be a rat so badly, don't you? So get down and crawl to me like one."
You were given no choice but to comply despite the absurdity of his request. Hanging your head, you inched forward as the cold, wooden floors painfully dug into your knees, stopping once the sight of his boots came into view. You held back a flinch when you heard the fabric of his clothes rustle as he leaned down to lift your head up by your hair, forcing you to your knees.
Instantly, your eyes zeroed in on the prominent bulge in Dottore's pants, making you painfully aware of what he wanted you to do next. With a suspiciously gentle tug, he brought you slightly closer to him. You could tell he was getting impatient.
"Well?" He questioned, a frown gracing his features. "You don't need instructions. Go on."
You glanced up at him with blatant disgust in your eyes before raising your hands to undo his pants and reveal his semi-hard cock. You suppressed a grimace as you held it in your hand, steeling your nerves just enough to be able to lick a stripe down the side. Flattening your tongue, you moved back up to take the tip in your mouth, letting your saliva slip past the corners of your lips to lubricate the rest of his dick.
You half-assed it all, not bothering to take it all the way down or, at the very least, use your tongue. However, Dottore caught on quick enough with an annoyed sigh. You supposed you shouldn't have been surprised when he tangled his fingers into your hair and shoved you down, but you were caught off guard either way.
You were embarrassed to hear a loud gag sound from you, choking and sputtering on his cock whenever the tip of it slid down your throat. You dug your nails into his thighs when he suddenly shifted and pressed the sole of his boot onto your dick, letting out a muffled cry that only served to please him. He made no move to rub it against you, simply keeping it firmly on your crotch—to keep you in line, you assumed.
You squirmed, internally cringing at the feeling of your drool seeping out the corners of your lips. Fluttering your eyes shut, you tried to focus on your breathing. In and out, in and out, in and—
"Don't look away," he said, refusing to give you a moment of respite, shoving his cock all the way inside your mouth, harshly tugging on your hair at the same time. He fucked your face, ignoring your sounds of protest as he battered your throat. He laughed at your struggle, entertained with the way your tears gathered at your lash line.
"Awh, is this too much for you?" He taunted, shifting his hand to the back of your head to push you down to the base. He sighed contentedly at the feeling of your throat tightening and spasming around him, gently rocking his hips. "You should've thought that through before you accepted the job."
With a painful tug, he pulled you off of his cock. A trail of saliva connected you to him, which you quickly broke when you turned your head to cough into your elbow. He ordered you to get up, unwilling to wait a second before he hauled you up by your arm impatiently. He effortlessly moved your body, pressing your cheek against the wooden door as he pushed on your back, forcing it to arch.
Deeming your position acceptable, he tucked his fingers underneath the waistband of your pants to yank them down to your knees. Your breath hitched at the sudden change in temperature, refusing to lean back and seek any warmth from Dottore.
With one hand on your hip, the other strayed toward your ass, spreading it to inspect your hole. It took effort to keep yourself from fidgeting under his gaze, and you opened your mouth in a daring attempt to get him to hurry up when he suddenly spat on your hole, shoving two fingers inside soon after.
You let out a grunt, clawing at the door he had you lean against. It was an uncomfortably foreign sensation but you were in no position to struggle. A burning sensation emanated from your hole as his fingers forced their way inside, wasting no time to move in a scissoring motion. They brushed against a spot that sent sparks up your spine every so often, taunting you wordlessly.
"You're enjoying this," Dottore said, not as a question or comment, but as a statement. And the worst thing was, he was right. No matter how much your mind made you hate it, your body told a different tale.
You let out a displeased sigh, pressing your forehead against the cold door, not daring to make your words known. Not that he minded. He enjoyed forcing your reactions out of you just as much as having them given to him without a fight.
He made it known with a jab to your prostate, sending a shock up and down your spine so suddenly it nearly made your knees buckle. That was all he gave you before abruptly pulling away, leaving you uncomfortably empty until the quiet ptuh! sound of him spitting on his cock filled your ears.
Fuck. This was actually happening. And you had no way out.
In a last ditch effort to maintain your dignity, you tried to push yourself off of the door but was quickly pressed—borderline slammed—back down with a hand to the back of your neck.
"I don't think you'll enjoy the alternative," he said, the undertones of irritation and impatience evident in his voice. He squeezed the sides of your neck hard enough to ensure your compliance, nearly scowling when you shifted in place. "So be still and behave like a good little thing."
Without missing a beat, he lined the tip of his cock up against your slick asshole and pushed his way inside, forcing a strained cry from your throat. He made sure it hurt, purposefully moving slowly to make you feel every inch and vein.
You whimpered, trying to breathe and calm yourself down. The stretch fucking hurt and you instinctively shifted your hips forward in a futile attempt to ease the pain when Dottore held your hips to yank you back, shoving the last few inches inside you.
You let out a strangled groan, biting your lower lip to stifle your noises as searing pain tore through you. You breathed heavily through your nose, feeling the weight of disgust settle in your chest when you heard him sigh in satisfaction at how tight you were. You winced when he pulled out slowly, only for him to slam back inside with a loud slap.
You jolted, just about ramming your head against the door in surprise. You grit your teeth and pressed a hand against it as the wood audibly creaked and groaned under your weight when he began to move. You tensed upon hearing faint voices beyond the door, peering back over your shoulder in a pathetic attempt to get him to stop.
"W—Wait," you muttered, breath hitching. "There's someone outside...!"
"Then I suppose you're just going to have to be quiet," he replied with an upward quirk to his lips before angling himself in a way that made his cock press up against you just right. You were disgusted to feel heat beginning to pool in your gut, forcing moans past your lips no matter how hard you tried to stop them. You covered your mouth with a hand as you listened to the noises approach. Dottore was (somewhat) merciful enough to press his pelvis against your ass, though that didn't stop him from rocking his hips to cruelly grind his cock into your prostate.
"Dottore?" It took you a moment to process the voice as electricity shot up and down your spine, trying your damn best to stifle your whimpers. "Are you in there?"
It's Pantalone, you recognize.
"Yes. Is there something you need from me?" Dottore replied, shifting his hold on you to start shallowly thrusting. You squeezed your eyes shut, listening to the painfully loud squelching.
"Not at the moment. I thought I heard something... else," Pantalone hummed with a knowing tone, sending a wave of mortification through your body.
"Then if that is all, I'd prefer it if you left," Dottore said, his amusement clear as day in his voice. He didn't even try to hide it as he gave you a punishing thrust, the resounding slap mixing in with your moan as it echoed off the walls. "I'm busy."
A laugh came from behind the door. "Very well. I'll leave you to it."
Dottore refused to wait for him to leave when he started again, this time fucking you so hard you were convinced there'd be a bruise. His fingers dug into your skin, yanking you back in time with his thrusts.
Your legs shook and you bit your lip until you bled, but it hardly did a thing to silence you.
"Look at you," Dottore mused, reaching around to hold your aching cock in his hand. He gave it a squeeze before jerking off the top half, focusing on the tip. "You were never meant to be a spy. You'd be so much better off as my little pet, wouldn't you agree?"
You let out a loud moan, instinctively looking down. You didn't even realize you were so hard, but as you watched the head of your cock drool precum onto the ground, everything felt twice as intense.
"N—No!" You choked out, clawing desperately at the creaking door. "I'll never—I'll never be your pet!"
"No?" Dottore laughed, sounding so unbothered it sent a spike of fear through you, reminding you of just how fucked you were. Swiftly, he swiped his fingers over the tip of your cock before bringing his hand up to push them into your mouth, making you taste your precum. With the palm of his hand, he pressed it against your chin to force your head back.
You let out a groan, feeling the strain on your upper back and neck as you stared at him with fear and disgust.
"I'm afraid you don't have a choice," he reminded, pulling out the communicator with his other hand. He slightly shook it, taunting you. "Don't you remember that actions have consequences?"
He pocketed the device as he slid his hand away from your mouth to bring it to the back of your neck, holding it tightly as he harshly pressed you against the cold wood. The side of your face ached, but, much to your horror, the pain only went straight to your cock.
"So just stand there and enjoy it," he said with a groan, his dick pulsing rhythmically as he savored the sensation of your walls clamping tightly around him. "Don't fight how much you like this."
"I don-" Just then, he rammed his cock into your prostate over and over, reducing you into a babbling mess that only proved his point.
Your eyes burned with unshed tears, ashamed that you loved the feeling of him so deep inside you, but you hated that it was him fucking you. You could feel the heat in your stomach intensify with each harsh thrust, feel the way your balls tightened in a way you knew you couldn't stop.
"Please..." you whimpered, weak against the wet slapping sounds that filled the office. "I don't want to...!"
You came with a whorish moan, arching your back as your cock spilled cum onto the floor. You could hear the sound of Dottore's laugh through the haze of your orgasm as sparks coursed through your veins, knees nearly buckling.
"Yes you do," he groaned, voice slightly strained. You could faintly hear his labored breathing the closer he got to his own orgasm, noticing the way his movements grew sloppier and weaker. He reached around again, jerking you off despite the lurking overstimulation.
You tightened, sending him right over the edge as he slammed his cock inside you a final time, pressing himself flush against your ass as he came. It was uncomfortably warm as he throbbed in time with each spurt, savoring the way you practically tried to milk him dry.
But he didn't let it last long as he pulled out with a satisfied sigh, enjoying the sight of you, shaky and vulnerable, before him. He graciously gave you a moment before commanding you to fix yourself, stepping back to adjust his own appearance.
"Now," he said, sternly, like he didn't just fuck you within a damn inch of your life. "Why don't you send a message to your organization stating that you're not going back."
He handed you the communicator with a smug smirk, relishing in your distress. Taking in a deep breath to steel your nerves, you accepted the device, reluctantly typing in a message before returning it back to him with regret written on your face.
"Oh, don't look so upset," he pouted, pocketing the device. You weren't sure when you'd see it again. "It'll be easier for you if you cooperate."
He made his way past you, opening the door, sending shivers down your spine at the sudden chill. "But right now, you have a lot of work to do."
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cross-posted on ao3
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bedoballoons · 6 months
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Oh wow fantastic I loved it!! now I kinda want a part two to the whole short post what did happen after finding out there darling likes tall guys how will they comfort there rival
I'm assuming you meant confront! I hope so at least cause that's what I wrote! If not I can totally write a second one! Thank you so much for your request!
─⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿─
{༻~Yanderes confront their rivals~༺}
This is a Part 2! Part 1:
CW: Fighting, using their obsession to get information, a knife is mentioned, Freminet trains you to like him, descriptions of blood, slight gore, confronting, yandere themes, some angst, and Lyney call reader mon amour!
(Includes: Lyney, Tighnari, Venti, Freminet, and Aether!)
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𑁍༄Lyney:
You knew Lyney was the reason Neuvillette had gone missing, it was obvious and yet no one could arrest him because there wasn't enough evidence, not to mention without the Chief of Justice...how could you have a trial? The whole of Fontaine was now in disarray, searching for Neuvillette everywhere and anywhere Lyney could have taken him, but not a single place had any results.
You didn't even know if he was still alive...but you just couldn't give up, thats what led you to this moment, honeyed words slipping past your lips and your arms around Lyney, batting your eyes at him..."Lyney, I'm all yours, Neuvillette is no longer a threat to that I promise. Let him go..." The magician sighed softly, so tempted, so enraptured by you that he almost gave it away from your beautiful eyes alone, "You know as well as I do mon amour, if I do as you ask...I'll be taken away to Meropide. Away from you..."
You bit your lip, wandering how deep into this act you'd have to go in order to convince him, "Not if they don't catch you, we can run away together... just you and me..." You kissed his cheek and he caved...unable to resist you any longer, "I can't say no to that..."
He reached out his hand, a card between his fingers...but it wasn't like any of his others, it was blue with a a outline of Neuvillette. "Neat isn't it?" Lyney asked when he'd caught you staring and with a snap of his fingers the card began to change, blue smoke circling around a spot on the ground until it sudden disappeared, leaving Neuvillette in its place...
"Neuvillette!"
He seemed perfectly healthy, shaken to say the least, but otherwise fine. It felt like you could breath again like everything would be okay...he could save you...right?
𑁍༄Tighnari:
You hadn't heard from Tighnari in over a week and you felt so guilty...after how hard it must have been to confess his feelings, you shot him down without even a moment to think if you really wanted to,... just because he wasn't exactly your type. Now he was probably in his home, regretting his decision to ever tell you how he felt in the first place...ever be nice to you at all for that matter.
You sighed, opening the door to your humble abode, only to see one of the most terrifying things even your nightmares could have prepared you for, "T-tighnari?" The fennec fox looked up at you with a crazed smile, a small hunting knife tightly gripped in his hand...the blade of it against against what looked to be a drugged Alhaitham, "You're finally home! We've been waiting for you...sorry to barge in uninvited but I had to show you that I was better than him. Let you see that I can overpower him, even though he's stronger and...taller."
You felt your chest tighten with fear, your hands shaking uncontrollably, "What... d-did you do to him Tighnari?" Meanwhile Tighnari was acting as if this was a casual hangout between the two of you, his tail swaying behind him and his ears twitching in delight, he even chuckled when Alhaitham attempted to mutter something, "Don't worry, he's just poisoned. I asked if he wanted something for a headache he was having and then I gave him something, it just wasn't what he had in mind..."
"Tighnari...let him go. T-this is crazy!" You felt tears welling up in your eyes, your body screaming at you to run for help and yet you felt frozen, unable to move a muscle. "I'm not crazy, I'm dedicated,...to you. I want nothing more than to be with you and if I have to make sure the scribe isn't able to interfere to have that, then I will." His eyes sparkled at the mention of being with you...
"...just let him go. Give him a antidote and I'll s-stay with you. Please Tighnari, don't hurt anyone more than you already have, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have shot down your confession so quickly, but I'll m-make it up to you" You reached your hand out and he wasted no time accepting it, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug, all of it seeming so innocent..
"As long as you stay with me...no one else will ever get hurt."
𑁍༄Venti:
You'd never seen such a war before...archons battling against eachother, destroying the land with power far greater than you ever could have imagined, all of this...because you couldn't see yourself with someone short, what was Venti doing! By now there was a large crowd of people, some from Liyue, some from Mondstat and each of them cheering for their own Archon. There were even fights breaking out over who was better....
This had to stop. "Venti! Venti listen to me! I know you're angry and that's okay, but starting a war just because I said I wasn't into you isn't the way to feel better!" You shouted as loud as you could, but he wasn't able to hear you, the sound of large rocks crashing into the ground and highwinds ripping trees right out of the land impossible to talk over. Was it a lost cause...?
You shook your head, unable to give up at the thought of your friend getting hurt...even if he was stupid for starting it in the first place...you cared about him. You swallowed your fear and gathered up all of your courage, running into the danger zone, barely able to keep your footing while you continued to call to the anemo archon. "Venti! Vennntii!!"
Suddenly the part of land you'd been running on ripped away from the rest of the ground, flying upwards with you holding on for dear life, "Venti! Hellpp!!!" You felt your grasp slipping and then you were spinning, falling back down at such speed you'd die on impact, you shut your eyes tightly, praying for everything to be okay.
Then there was a gentle breeze surrounding you.. lifting you upwards, the entire battle out on pause when you came face to face with Venti, shocked to see him in his archon outfit, "Venti please, I'm sorry. Don't take this out on Zhongli, don't make such a big mess because of me. I'm... not worth it." You looked down at all the dilapidated area beneath you...all of this for you?
"You're worth more than every world or star in the entire universe...I'd fight to the end for you." The anemo archon touched your cheek softly.., making you feel something you never had before..
𑁍༄Freminet:
Freminet wouldn't leave your side, keeping you away from Neuvillette at any costs... pampering you with romaritime flowers and ocean shells, convincing you in ever way he could think of that he was better. He'd be there in the morning with warm breakfast and a nice hot beverage, he'd walk with you anywhere you needed to go so he could keep you safe and...people were noticing. Most thought you were dating. Even congratulating you two...but he always answered before you could, thanking them happily.
Truthfully...he was training you to only want to be around him and it was working...
𑁍༄Aether:
"ITTO!" You screamed, your skin paling at the sight of the Oni you had been crushing on so much, taken down to the ground with dark crimson blood dripping from his head onto grass beneath him, his face badly bruised and beaten up. You couldn't even tell if he was breathing, your heart racing as you looked to the culprit... his face speckled with deep red flecks of blood and sickening smile on his lips..
"W-why...Aether, you're supposed to be a hero why would you...he didn't...h-he didn't deserve this!" You rushed to Ittos side, holding his large hand in yours and staring at the damage someone you thought you could trust caused.
"I did it for you. Now he can't take you from me..., now there's only one hero for you and it's me." Aether grabbed your wrist harshly, pulling you close to him while you tried desperately to shove him away, "No! Let go of me! Help! Someone help!!" You screamed frantically, searching for any other signs of people...but nobody was around? How was that possible! It was the city?!
Aether smiled at you sadistically, "Being a famous hero and knowing important people means I can say there's a need to evacuate...and everyone will just leave. No one...can hear you now..."
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ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚*⁠.⁠✧
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qierxing · 6 months
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A/N: An interpreted continuation of @shiny-jr wonderful fic. (checks calendar) Uhm, happy three month update to this series AND 1k notes on the first part! I would say sorry for the wait, but I really did need it LOL. Anyway, it's not super obvious, but the timeline is a bit all over the place in this part, because I'm jumping back and forth between past and present.
TW/CW: Immolation, violence, implied stalking+actual stalking, obsessive behavior, mild psychological and body horror, toxic relationships, Yuu uses it/its pronouns, we get a little meta in here, the boys are FIGHTINGGG I. II. | Isekai AU | Yan! Heartslabyul x Reader
“Who are you?” said the Caterpillar.
This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, “I—I hardly know, Sir, just at present—at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.”
“What do you mean by that?” said the Caterpillar, sternly. “Explain yourself!”
“I ca’n’t explain myself, I’m afraid, Sir,” said Alice, “because I am not myself, you see.”
— Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Caroll
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vi. Mourning
It is incredibly hard to get Yuu alone.
Whether it be by the forces of fate or just because so many vie for their attention, there is rarely, if ever, any time when someone is able to spend time personally alongside them. The only exception to this rule is Grim, who was practically the player's companion from the beginning.
So when Ace Trappola manages a rare chance to snag some one on one time with Yuu, he guns for it. Course, he had to time it perfectly. 
It was just another night like any other. Ace and Deuce decided to come over to hang out for a casual sleepover as usual. The four of them did initially start out studying, before the textbooks and worksheets were being abandoned in favor of more exciting things, such as the deck of cards that Ace brought with him.
Sending Deuce and Grim off to get snacks through a won bet over a card game was easy as pie.
"Hey Ace?" 
He hums in response, letting Yuu know he's listening. His nimble fingers shuffle the worn cards, flipping through them with practiced ease. Stacking them up quickly, he wonders if he should try to impress Yuu with another card trick to gain their enthralled praise.
"Do you…like…being my friend?"
The question makes him blink and look up in surprise at Yuu. It feels blasphemous to hear such doubt lingering in their words.
"Why? Scared I'm gonna ditch ya?" He teases.
Yuu doesn't respond, only giving a sheepish smile back. 
"I-It's not like I don't like being friends with you." He tries to keep his cool. "I just-"
Yuu's smile doesn't falter. "It's okay, Ace."
He's reminded of his previous girlfriend in middle school. It was more of a fling than a serious thing, but it's something he remembers vividly. Their breakup, after all, was rather dramatic.
"You're too much, Ace. Sometimes you just take it too far." 
What was even her name? Elizabeth? He could barely even remember, but for some reason, he still recalls the intense way her face was twisted in burning resentment. He tried to bury it in the past. He swore he would never fall in love or get into another relationship, preferring friendships over any kind of romantic trysts.
Now that he looks at Yuu, he already knows he's screwed up big time.
Yuu's gaze is no longer meeting his, instead staring into the fireplace that Grim had so generously set up earlier. The crackling blue flames reflect in their irises and in that moment, dread curls inside Ace's stomach. Yuu doesn't seem right.
"Hey…you okay?" He asks hesitantly, placing a hand on their shoulder.
Yuu doesn't move, still staring at the fire intently. He opens his mouth to ask again, but then they speak.
"If I wasn't acting like myself, would you still like me?" 
Another question out of left field. 
"Even if you somehow grow anemones on your head, Yuu's still Yuu, right?" His heart swells in pride at the way their lips quirk at his inside joke. 
"Yeah…" they murmur back. 
"Wanna see somethin' cool?" he says, holding out a card. Yuu tilts their head questioningly.
"It's the ace of hearts. What about it?"
"It's not just the ace of hearts!" Ace puffs out his cheeks. "Don't you know the meaning of this card?"
Yuu shakes their head.
"It means good news for yourself or someone close. Practically a lucky charm!" Ace waggles his eyebrows suggestively. "So how can things go wrong now that you have me?"
Yuu snorts and shoves him playfully. "Yeah, yeah, okay, Mr. Lucky Charm."
But it works. The foggy clouds clear from Yuu's eyes, finally returning them to the familiar luster he's used to. For the rest of the night, there is no hint of hollowness within them. And Ace hopes he will never see that sight again.
-
He should've known something was up since that night.
When Headmaster Crowley personally makes an appearance at their dorm, he should've realized it then. If there was anything that the old raven hated more, it was having to do more work than usual. 
"That person wasn't an imposter." Crowley says, coughing awkwardly into his fist.
The solemn words echo in his head on end. The rest of the Headmaster's words start to tune out for Ace. Automatically, his legs begin to move on their own. The calls of the others chase after him, but he ignores them, racing out of the lounge and towards the mirror portal.
Because if you didn't hurt Yuu-
-then what had he done?
When he first arrived in NRC, he didn't even know that Ramshackle dorm existed. Not until Yuu came to reside there; until he had to beg for shelter from them when he was chained with that damn collar. He knew that they didn't have to take him in. But they did, and maybe that's why Ace couldn't turn his back after that. 
The building before him is no longer the broken down hovel that he remembers back then. He remembers how the roof was almost caving in and wooden beams were always in danger of collapsing. Each knock on the entrance doors would send cascades of dust upon his head. Now, the walls are painted with a fresh coat of paint, the roof has new shingles, and the place actually looks like a house you could safely live in. 
Bang! Bang! Bang!
"Prefect! Are you there?!" He yells, desperation leaking into his voice. "Please!"
Bang! Bang!
He's gotta be out of his damn mind, acting like some crazy person. But he can't help but be blinded by his fear. So he keeps hitting the door with his fists, praying, hoping, for…well that someone would open the door.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
"Yuu!!" He screams, and his voice echoes around him, mocking his helplessness. His fists are becoming numb from slamming the wood so hard, but he can't stop himself.
"Yuu–!"
"Oi! Ace!!!" A rough hand on his shoulder shoves him back and before he could knock the souvnabit-
"Ace, look at me!"
He's stopped by Deuce's fists meeting his in an even match of strength. Like an illusion broken, Ace stills and yanks his hands back.
There's only heavy breathing in between them for a long while. 
"...they're not here." Ace snaps to look at Deuce, who only closes his eyes in a painful grimace.
"What do you mean, 'not here'?" Ace asks.
Deuce doesn't say anything for a beat.
"What do you mean they're–"
"They're in the infirmary." Deuce's words flow out in a breathless rush. "The Headmaster said that after you ran."
Fuck, he just acted like an idiot then. No wonder no one was responding to his absolute earth shattering door banging and yelling. Then the meaning of Deuce's words begin to sink in. Oh Seven, no–
He turns and before he could even step in the direction of the main building, his arm is yanked back.
He snarls at Deuce. "Let me go! I have to see the prefect!"
"Housewarden is calling you back." Deuce forces out through gritted teeth and closed eyes. "The Headmaster said that…they don't want to see anyone."
And like a fire put out, Ace's anger chokes to flickering embers.
He lets Deuce guide him back, all the way from the Ramshackle dorm, to the mirror portal, and then back to Heartslabyul's lounge where the other three are grimly awaiting them.
Ace half expects to be yelled at once he passes the threshold. Or get some kind of lecture on how he should have better manners than to just run off like that. It would've been just like his housewarden to only care about weird, arbitrary rules when there were other arguably more important matters.
But his housewarden sits silently on his gilded velvet throne with glassy eyes. There's no anger burning behind them, and the freshmen are terrified to see their once proud and fearsome queen reduced to this husk. He almost would rather him back to the state where he was barking out orders for them. The silence in the lounge is deafening.
Ace swears they must be all thinking the same thing.
Please let this be a bad dream.
-
He tried calling you. Texting you. Hell, he even tried messaging you on Magicam! Magicam, of all things! 
Anxiety claws at his heart with each unread message and dial voice tone greeting. He has so much to say, to ask for-
Deuce wasn't faring well on his side either. He had also tried calling and texting you, to no avail. Grim, that traitor, hadn't come back to visit Heartslabyul at all since the incident. Never mind the fact he had only himself to blame for that—he thought at the very least the cat direbeast would have some sense of pity for their friendship and throw them a bone. 
Ace tried two more times to meet you. 
First, during your infirmary stay, when you were still unconscious.
The second time was when you returned to Ramshackle dorm with Grim.
Maybe the Seven were punishing him for his hubris. Or he supposes this is just karma. Because both times, he fails spectacularly at the front door of Heartslabyul. Because of this, he's the reason why Riddle had put them all on house arrest (with the exception of academic reasons, of course).
It's a declaration that would've been met with mutiny from all of them, if it weren't for the fact that even Headmaster Crowley had explicitly forbade anyone from showing up on Ramshackle's doorstep or trying to meet you. So he understands. Really! He does. He's seen how Riddle holes up in his room, muttering to himself while carrying out boxes upon boxes of crumpled paper. When he manages to snag a stray paper that flutters out on garbage day, Ace realizes that Riddle is also just as frenzied trying to reach out to you. Even if he is going about it in an old fashioned way.
He'll chip in to help. If his housewarden is left to his own devices, they’ll all be fossils by the time he sends what he deems a satisfactory letter. 
And the faster they do this, the faster they have a chance of reaching you.
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vii. Embalming
The most horrifying thing is that it doesn't seem to care about dying.
That cursed pile of ceramic shards had disappeared—no, pieced itself back together—and once again, it became the smiling face of Yuu, the being they all knew and used to adore.
Riddle Rosehearts immediately smashed it to pieces again under the weight of his magic.
No one had tried to stop their housewarden. Not even the faceless mobs. Even if they were all alarmed at the erratic behavior of their housewarden, they could not deny the fear of seeing something dead come back alive. With not so much as a dent or wound in them, for that matter.
The third time it happened, Riddle ordered for the remains to be dumped into the school’s incinerator at the highest heat level. Surely, that would be enough. 
He watched as the incinerator roared and shuddered, shaking as if the pits of hell had opened. After a few agonizing minutes, the rumbling stops, and before he can even breathe a sigh of relief, the iron hatches creak open, and out strolls Yuu, perfectly fine and pieced together again.
It's magic. Or some kind of century old curse. Of course it is. After all, it was at a higher power than even Draconia's comprehension. Why he didn't consider the possibility beforehand is something he berates himself now. 
What might be the most damning thing is that it has no fear or suspicion in its face; even after the multiple times it’s been maimed and torn apart. Not like you, who immediately closed themselves off at being hurt so thoroughly. 
The irony isn't lost on him. The temptation of letting the puppet take its place back in favor of just bringing everything back to how it was is something Riddle could not deny. But now that he's actually met you, Yuu just seems more of a shadow of what he remembers during your interactions together.
It has your face. It acts like you.
But it's not you.
When Ace asks after the commotion at the Unbirthday party on how he was able to figure out that it wasn’t [First], he had to take a moment to gather his thoughts. Ace’s face changes into something of disbelief when Riddle merely replies with: “[First] takes their tea with two sugars and a dash of milk.”
“You were so sure only because of that?”
He doesn’t want to think what Ace’s face would look like if he had explained his whole list of reasons how he realized that the puppet wasn’t you. How he soaked up as much as he could when you came over for the tea party. Your expressions, your little habits, the way you fidget…it was all filed away in Riddle's head and later, his private notebook.
But that doesn’t matter now. Now, there’s an even bigger problem than the puppet resurrecting itself.
Grim is missing again.
This alone should've been more worrying than anything for Yuu, but it merely shrugs and says it’s not sure where he scampered off to. He's more than suspicious, of course, but there is no proof, which is infuriating already.
But without Grim, they are missing the key to finding [First]. 
The others raise hell once they hear the news Riddle reports at the weekly housewarden meeting. A new wave of tension washes over NRC and with it, an unprecedented deep disdain for the puppet. It returns back to classes unannounced, making Ace and Deuce rant to him about how weird it is that it’s trying so hard to act like nothing had happened. It attends school events with their camera, drumming up conversations like normal between all of them; despite the fact it gets ignorance or violence in response (depending on the person it greets).
But none of them are really sure on how to interact with Yuu.
The nicer ones, like Trey or Deuce, entertain Yuu with frigidly civil responses, in hopes of boring the puppet and making it flit away to another victim. Meanwhile, he and Ace have finally come together on an agreed opinion: that they would rather die before letting the puppet even think it could take [First]’s place.
“Go away.”
Yuu merely smiles in response to Riddle’s annoyed voice. The puppet leisurely lounges in the chair across the table from him. The school library is vast but empty, his authoritative voice echoing down the long halls. Several floating books flit past above their heads and the chandeliers above flicker with bright candlelight.
“I just wanted to keep you company.” Riddle purses his mouth in disgust. It’s invasive, it’s gross, and most of all it feels wrong to hear those words coming from Yuu. 
“I didn’t ask for your company,” he replies coldly. “Shouldn’t you know that it’s bad manners to bother someone who wants to be left alone?”
“I don’t think you like being left alone, Riddle.” He flinches at the way Yuu’s eyes bore into him. “Well, then again, you sure like to pretend you’re fine, don’t you?”
His hand tightens around the textbook he’s reading about cursed dolls. There would be no point if he brought out his magical pen and reduced it to rubble. But he is tempted, if only to get some peace and quiet for just a few minutes.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Riddle says.
“Hmm…” Yuu hums into its hand, “...then I suppose I will just let you be. What a shame, I had something entertaining to tell.”
“What? What do you mean?” 
Yuu giggles and waves him off. “No, no! You said you didn’t want my company now. Why should I tell you anything?”
He resists the urge to incinerate the book in his hands. “Fine! I would like your company. What is this ‘entertaining’ thing you want to tell me so badly?”
“Hmm…how insincere,” Yuu tilts its head coyly with a smile more akin to a smirk. “But I guess that’s the most I can get.”
“Since you’ve all been driving yourselves crazy, [First] is safe.” The floor feels like it’s been yanked underneath him. The puppet is smiling still, as if it’s all some big joke rather than the revelation it delivered. He can hear his blood roaring through his ears.
“You…” Riddle snarls, face heating into a bright red rage. “What did you do to them?”
It bursts into laughter at his face. 
“Why, I only granted their wish!”
Its laughter is cut short by the sound of ceramic being crushed, and Riddle is left shakily breathing at the pile of shards that used to be Yuu. The puppet’s words churn over and over in his head.
What did you wish for? 
-
It is currently 3:20 on a Wednesday afternoon. 
In his planner, the bullet point neatly penned on the schedule shows ‘Studying for History Test’ in bold blue ink for the time slot. ‘History of the Queendom of Roses’ is laid open on his desk, to the chapter about the local mythos of the area, just as he intended. His notes from lecture are next to it, with several of his stationary needed to jot down annotations. 
And yet, Riddle has yet to touch any of these items or actually adhere to his daily schedule—he’s too distracted by what he should do in order to reach the player.
Riddle's already embarrassed enough, resorting to handwritten letters with the best calligraphy he can muster. He's sent only a couple that passed his satisfaction, and they have all been met with judgemental silence. He’s hunched over another crumpled letter near ripping his hair out when someone knocks on his bedroom door. He quickly shoves the envelope under some textbooks out of frantic instinct.
“Come in.”
A familiar bob of red orange hair pops out behind his door, and Riddle raises an eyebrow at the underclassman who enters.
“Ace? What is it?” Normally, Ace would never be in his room if he could help it. If he was in Riddle’s room, it most likely meant he was either being scolded or punished. And Ace’s eyes are shifting side to side, as if he was trying to sneak his way in. 
“Out with it, Ace.” He’s not in the mood for the underclassman’s shenanigans.
“Housewarden, you’re writing letters to the prefect, aren’t ya?” The question completely takes him off-guard sputtering.
“W-What does t-that have to do with you?” He tries to maintain his composure, but Ace is already giving him a smug smirk for the one up on him. Of all people, it had to be him finding out. 
"I had an idea, Housewarden. Why don't we send them something with the letter?" Riddle blinks in surprise.
“...How smart of you for once, Ace.” It was so simple, yet he marvels at the idea's brilliance. Perhaps there was merit in trying this proposal.
“Hey! What the hell does that mean?!” His underclassman snaps back in a huff. “Whatever, point being, maybe we should switch it up instead of letters all the time.”
He crosses his arms, “And what do you suggest? There’s not much we can really send that hasn't been sent already by other dorms.”
Ace winces. Clearly he didn’t think about the other dorms with more affluent people; people who had more than enough thaumarks and prestige to spend it to appeal to you. Riddle can't blame him either: although he is at the top of the school and his parents are well known mages, it's not like any of that could help him here. All of them, in a sense, were stuck in that situation. 
For once, he starts to resent not having more.
"Ugh, well…maybe it doesn't need to be so fancy, you know?" Ace rubs his neck, face scrunched in frustration. "Like…uh…you know-flowers! People send flowers all the time, yeah?"
This is true. And for Queendom of Roses’ residents, it has become custom to send bouquets with subtle messages left in petals and stems. Although he is a bit loath to admit that he isn’t as well versed in the language of flowers compared to hedgehogs.
"And what do you recommend, Ace?" He asks. "What would be the best flower to send to the prefect in our circumstance?"
"We got all these roses, why not send them that?" Ace responds, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Riddle coughs in annoyance. 
"Why not just procure some from Sam's shop? Today is Wednesday. Do you not remember rule 228?" He chides. Ace groans, rolling his eyes. 
"Not the weird rules again…"
"Ace."
"Yeeesss Housewarden…" The card soldier mock salutes with a deadpan expression. "I'll see if we can get some flowers at Sam's."
"You better, or else it's–" 
"-off with my head, I got it, I got it." Riddle seethes as Ace cuts him off and dashes out of his room before he could get another word in. So troublesome…
Still, there's nothing to do except wait for his card soldier to report back. He turns back to his desk, bringing out the crumpled letter from its hiding place. Running a hand over the crumpled pages, he attempts to pick up his pen again, but fails as his thoughts begin to wander. 
Riddle only manages to pen a couple legible sentences when his door slams open, banging against the wall. He almost falls out of his chair in shock from the loud noise. How was Ace back so quickly?
"Have you not heard of knocking?!" He scowls, turning around to see Ace panting and sweating as if he had run a marathon.
"Never mind that, Housewarden, I saw them!" Ace shouts. 
“What are you jabbering…” Riddle trails off in realization. “You better not be horsing around, Ace.”
“Do you think I would lie to you about this?” Ace retorts frantically. “I saw them at Sam’s shop working the cashier!”
For a moment, his mind races with this information. If you were working at Sam’s shop, it would explain why you weren’t showing up to classes, let alone in the hallways or rooms of NRC. It’s a clever ruse—classes may be over during this time of day, but nearly all of them were participating in mandatory club activities or study labs. No wonder no one else has caught on to this. Riddle rubs his chin in thought, settling back in his chair.
“What are you going to do now, Housewarden Riddle?” Ace asks hesitantly. His eyes are filled with some kind of anticipation and hope, no doubt wondering if he could get some leeway in his own agenda. Normally, he would go right away as there was no need to hesitate about these kinds of things.
But. Crowley’s stern announcement comes back to his mind and guilt starts to creep in. 
“First, we’ll go with your idea, Ace.” He responds. “The ban hasn’t been lifted, after all.” Ace opens his mouth to protest, but he holds a hand up to interrupt him.
“But if that doesn’t work, then I’m sure even Crowley can’t say anything about coincidences.”
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viii. Calling Hours
“I’m not joking around, you two.” 
There’s very few times that the vice housewarden of Heartslabyul gets truly mad. His patience seems boundless, honed by years of taking care of younger siblings at home and then dealing with rowdy underclassmen in NRC. But even his saint-like patience could only stretch so far.  
“I told you, we didn’t do it!” Ace scowls with furrowed eyebrows and crossed arms. Meanwhile, Deuce is silent by his side, face twisted with conflicting emotions. “You don’t even have proof! You just singled us out just because!”
“Who else was around the kitchen when I left it?” Trey asks, voice starting to rise in anger. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice you two lurking around before?”
The two freshmen began to speak out, voices rambling over each other and cascading into a loud shouting match that was barely intelligible.
“We just wanted to see if we could get something from the fridge, how were we supposed to know someone would-”
“Me and Ace just wanted to bring something along when we deliver the Housewarden’s invitation to-”
"You dumbass, don't just say that out loud-!"
It’s at this moment that Cater Diamond strolls in, takes one look at the mess of the situation and does a 180 back round to the door. But it’s too late, because the interruption is just enough for Ace to sink his hooks into him.
“Cater-senpai, you believe us, right?” Ace shouts after the orange head, making him flinch in place. “You saw us get the order from Housewarden Riddle!”
Cater turns around slowly like a door on rusty hinges, with an expression that screams of not wanting to be involved. "Oh Acey! Uhm, you mean the letter Riddle gave you two-"
"Yes!" Deuce interrupts in earnest, already trying to barrel his way to proving his innocence. "Housewarden Riddle entrusted us to deliver the tea party invitation ourselves personally." 
Cater turns to Trey, who is rubbing the bridge of his nose, eyes closed with a tiredness that seems comically reminiscent of an old man. "Well, I'm not sure what this is all about, Trey, but maybe you should cut 'em some slack and let it go."
The other senior nods in reluctant agreement and the two freshmen all but nearly trample over each other trying to run from the tension filled room. But they're stopped in their tracks when Trey calls out again.
"Wait, you two." The duo slowly looks back with cautious eyes.
"You wanted to bring something to the prefect, didn't you?" Trey tilts his head to one of the many strange topsy turvey cabinets in the kitchen. "I have some leftover cookies that I made yesterday. Take them. I'm sorry for accusing you guys like that."
Ace and Deuce exchange confused glances, and although Ace looks away in denial, Deuce nods in gratitude. They leave the kitchen just as chaotically, this time with the aroma of lavender following them.
A brief silence follows their absence, while Cater raises an eyebrow at Trey.
"Sooo…care to spill the tea?"
"Don't even start." Trey groans.
Cater seats himself on one of the stools near the counter, waiting. Trey busies himself with cleaning the stoves and counter, trying not to meet Cater's eyes. Silence falls, but it's with none of the comfort that Cater is familiar with. Giving up, he turns to his phone, refreshing his Magicam dash mindlessly. This continues for a good while until finally—
A low sigh, then– "Somebody took my candied violets."
Cater looks up from his phone. Another beat passes, and he realizes it's not a passing statement. 
"It's not like you to get this bent out of shape over your ingredients going MIA." Cater shifts his face onto the elbow meeting pristine marble while shoving his phone away. "You sure that one of the froshes didn't just end up taking them thinking they were for everyone?"
Trey lets out a rough guffaw. "You know better than I do that the others don't touch our stuff."
Cater taps his fingers on the polished white granite, hands already itching to grab his phone and check for updates, but he restrains himself. "That's…mostly true."
"That can only mean one of you guys has taken it." The hairs on Cater's neck raise at Trey's tone.
"Hey now," Cater grins, raising his hands in mock surrender, "you heard it from those two. I was with Riddle when he gave them that invitation."
"I know." Cater's fingers twitch as Trey carelessly tossed aside the rag used to clean the counter into a bucket. The soggy fabric makes a hollow sound against the wood, echoing rather loudly in contrast. "But Riddle would never do such a thing either."
Cater resists the urge to roll his eyes. It's true that their cute housewarden would hardly dare to stoop to thievery, but Trey's blind faith in him can be annoying at times. After all, didn't their little teapot tyrant threaten to kill the prefect at one point?
He supposes that was his fault, though.
"Then it's back to square one." Cater shrugs. "Besides, what were you even planning to do with them if you weren't gonna eat it?"
The baker runs a hand through his mussed forest green hair and frowns. "I was going to bake a cake with them as a peace offering to the prefect."
Cater's mouth forms an 'o' shape in realization. "That's pretty big brain."
"Yeah, but look how that turned out."
"It's fine~you were able to at least send cookies this time round." Cater finally cracks, digging into his pocket for the familiar grooves of his phone case. "All's well that ends well, right?"
Trey doesn't respond and Cater is too engrossed in his phone to look up to see his expression. He slides off the stool naturally, tapping through recent posts and comments, eyes laser focused on recent posts on his dash. 
"Cater." 
There it is. It's the most recent story reel by Ace(according to the time stamp, about two minutes ago). It's an inconspicuous black out picture with several cute teapot and teacup stickers decorating the screen. The banner message is short and sweet: 'Dorm tea party bout to get real this month 🤔😶'
"Cater." Cater's attention snaps back and towards his friend, who gazes at him with dark eyes.
"Please don't lie to me next time."
With that, Cater watches as his long time friend finally leaves the kitchen. 
Thank the Seven he did. He might have been a decent actor, but Trey has been with him through thick and thin, and it's given him the annoying ability to see through his tells.
Really now. Trey knows that he hates sweets. Shouldn't that be enough of an alibi?
It's not fair that Trey already has everything to set him up for a good relationship with you. Even if they're all set back by their violent reaction to you arriving in this world, he's sure it would only take a couple tries with Trey offering genuine heartfelt food to get to you.
It's just not fair. 
Isn't he fun to hang out with? He consistently gets compliments online for his suave looks and easy personality. So why couldn't he compare to-
He shakes his head. There's no point in overthinking it now. Cay Cay #3 had easily taken the cutely decorated jar of violets and discarded it in the dorm dumpster. Like candy from a baby.
He knows it's petty. But for once, he feels much better, knowing that he upset Trey's original plans to ensnare you.
Now, he once again checks Ace's story reel and screenshots it, while quickly pulling up the search bar. He just needs to level the playing field.
-
There can only be one fake bitch in this house and Cater has had enough of the competition.
“I wasn’t aware that you were going to visit me, Cater.” 
The puppet tilts its head with a warm smile, but there’s a frosty undercurrent to the greeting. It’s clear that he’s not welcome, if the way it’s blocking the doorway of Ramshackle has anything to say.
“Yeah, I ended up losing something here. You mind if I look for it, Yuu-chan?” Cater asks innocently. “Promise it won’t take too long.”
“Hm, sure. But I don’t think you’ll find what you’re looking for.” Yuu's grin is sharp as a razor blade. It knows what he’s here for and it’s definitely taunting him. That little–
“Well, it doesn’t hurt to look~” He responds back airily. His fist curls around his phone in his pocket tightly. The puppet shrugs and walks off, leaving him standing in the doorway.
It’s been a while since he’s personally been at Ramshackle dorm. Cater remembers how Ace complained about the house being a real fixer upper, but then again, he doesn’t remember much of that, since Yuu always spent most of the time at Heartslabyul dorm. The renovations certainly made it much more pleasing to the eye and more importantly, livable by HOA standards.
There’s nothing to write home about the living room. The coffee table is bare and there’s no wrinkles in the sofa cushions at all. It’s a little eerie—as if no one even lived in the house in the first place. The only sign of living was perhaps the fact it is clean of dust or dirt. 
Nothing in the kitchen either. He gives a wayward glance to the second floor, searching for any signs of movement. Couldn’t hurt to be thorough. 
Rows of tall doors pass by as Cater opens each one of them. A storage closet, a spare room, an electric cabinet, another storage area–it all blurs by after the fourth door. There really is nothing, as if the whole house has been wiped of any trace of you. He's about to toss in the towel when an old, dusty memory crops up. His little freshman, Ace. Cater swears he had been making fun of Yuu for seeing strange things at night. Something about a mouse?
Right, their room! Why didn't he think of looking there?  
His feet take him rapidly from memory to the door that was the third from last in the hallway in the east wing. He manages to wrench the door open to see a regular bedroom, bed sheets barely stirred. Before he can even put one foot in, a throat clears behind him. 
"It's rather rude to go into other people's bedrooms, don't you think?"
You got to be kidding me. Cater turns around with the fakest smile plastered across his face. Yuu looks unamused, tapping its foot impatiently against the wooden floorboards. 
"Just wanted to make sure, y'know?" Cater replies. Yuu gives a tight smile back. It goes around him and shuts the door with a hard thunk.
"Ever heard about how curiosity killed the cat?" 
Cater shakes his head in surrender, "I guess I need to look elsewhere for my lost item."
The entrance doors slam shut behind him hard enough to startle several birds out the dead trees in the yard. Cater doesn't bother giving a look back as he strides out of the yard and past the gated fence surrounding the property. That glimpse was enough and much more. Cater smirks to himself, taking his phone out and sending a quick text message to the group chat. Yes, curiosity may have killed the poor kitty cat…
But satisfaction brought it back.
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viiii. Eulogy
It might surprise people to know that Trey Clover's first real friend is Che'nya Pinker.
That's not to say that Trey had trouble getting along with others as a kid, oh no. Everyone in his neighborhood agreed that he was a very sweet boy, who looked out for others around him. When he wasn’t taking care of his baby sister, he would be asked by other parents around the block to look after their own children, whether that be playing soccer games with the more energetic kids or patty cakes with the quiet ones. So it isn’t a stretch to say that he’s friends with nearly everyone. But Che’nya was a special case.
Their first meeting is still burned into Trey’s memory.
“You see it too, don’cha?” The boy had greeted him while swinging upside down on a low hanging tree branch. Trey had half a mind to scold him for the dangerous action before he actually looked at him. 
The first thing that takes Trey off guard is that he has eyes. They’re a shiny yellow, just a shade lighter than his. His pupils are long and thin, not round like his at all. He supposes it must be like a cat’s pupils—for he’s never seen anything like it. Then it’s his unique colorful hair, streaks of light pink intermingling with dark purple, making a strange striped pattern across the chopped uneven hair. Trey faintly recalls a certain cat from their local legends, whose fur boasted those very same colors. 
“...What are you talking about?” Trey eyes him warily. The cat boy gives a cheeky grin. He vanishes and then reappears in front of him, albeit with missing arms.
“The people around us who wear the faces of strangers.” Trey’s skin gets goosebumps at the way the boy observes him. He is not looking through Trey, but at him. Their eyes are directly making contact. “But you’re different. You have the face of a friend.”
“And what do you mean by that?” Trey furrows his eyebrows. The boy's grin stretches wider in response. (His teeth were rather blunter than expected, but his canines were pointed.)
“You’re strange. I’m stranger. Together, we can both be strange,” the cat boy chirps back lightheartedly. “The name’s Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker. But you can just call me Che’nya.”
Something in his mind had clicked then. It’s hard to explain the feeling–just that it felt like a puzzle piece put into place. He hadn’t known it then, but at that point, the hands of fate had moved. 
Whatever the case may be, Trey was grateful to have Che’nya. Because now he knows that he isn’t crazy; not when he couldn’t see his parent’s faces nor his baby sister’s or even his other friends'. Che’nya too, only shrugs his shoulders when Trey asks him about his grandfather.
“The old man? Yeah, they say I have his eyes, but I wouldn’t know.” The statement is so casually delivered that Trey can hardly believe he’s talking about his only living relative and guardian. “His face does not mirror mine in my mind.”
Staring down at you, shivering with cold and hunger, he feels something churn in him again, just like that fateful day. 
He has his orders from Riddle: bring in the imposter alive. Trey isn’t a violent sort and nor does he enjoy boasting his strength over others like a sadist. And he cannot deny the feeling of cold rage that day when Yuu shuts down, fear inundating him that he may never, ever, get an explanation for the world he was born in. Why he and Che’nya were special, why he had to witness Riddle suffer under his mother–what was it all for?
Your face. There is no blank stretched skin—he can see your wide open eyes, bloodshot and fixated on him. Your mouth too, shaped in a pained grimace, lips bruised and bloodied from previous skirmishes. Surely, surely, there must be a reason why you were here. Why you bear the same face as Yuu. You hold all the answers, if you would just cooperate.
“Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you,” Trey tries reaching out, but you scurry back into the hedges, squinted eyes wary and untrusting. You remind him of a frightened hedgehog, prickly spines bristled and body curled in to protect yourself. “I just wanna talk.”
“Go away, please,” the imposter quietly pleads. “Just pretend you never saw me! I swear I didn’t even know how I got here…”
Trey swallows hard. 
“Just come quietly. Please.” He is the one begging now. “It’ll be easier for all of us.”
“For who?” The imposter barks a sharp laugh. Trey doesn't miss the way they wince in pain from their wounds. “For me? Or for you?”
He doesn’t have an answer. The sound of running footsteps has him turning, and when he looks back, you’re already gone. The only traces that you were there at all were faint splotches of red blood and crushed grass.
Trey wonders if this, too, was meant to be fate.
Trey’s been lovingly dubbed as someone reliable. Some consider him to be an older brother figure due to his nagging and supportive care. It's ingrained in him at this point from the years he’s spent playing babysitter. Trey knows the students around him are not his younger siblings who need constant watching (although their actions say otherwise).
But he worries.
Just a bit. Trey knows better than anyone that you can take care of yourself just fine. He's seen how you carry yourself within those hedges. 
It's just that, he doesn't know if you're okay right now. How could he know? You've been silent even in the face of Riddle's unceasing letters. So of course he's just a bit unsure if you're actually okay, or if you don't trust them enough to say so.
Trey finds himself more frustrated with the ban they're under. Not because of the inability to see you, although that is part of it. No, it's because Riddle has managed to skirt around that rule to desperately grab onto you, and that was just enough to wear you down. 
He thinks if he was bold enough, he could've tried.
As if it wasn't enough, even Ace and Deuce find their own way to get to you, snatching up the chance to deliver the monthly tea party invitation. It takes everything in Trey to clench his teeth and let go—even when Cater ruins his plans. He can't get mad here because it won't get him any closer to you. He has to be the bigger person.
If there is one thing Trey knows about Cater, it's that he absolutely hates getting sweaty or dirty. If Cater wasn’t trying to get out of running those P.E laps, he would absolutely be shirking any extra work assigned. So he's more than suspicious when Cater bounces up to him with a grin saying he could help cover Trey's science club duty of watering plants. 
Trey likes to think he can tell when Cater’s lying. His close friend's happy go lucky demeanor often throws off others, but he’s been with him long enough to pick out his subtle tells. His eyebrow twitches when he’s particularly anxious and the corner of his mouth tends to perk up if he’s feeling particularly daring or desperate. Trey figures this must be something that even he can’t trust Trey with, if he’s going out of his way to take on extra work.
So Trey considers this repayment for letting him take his violets. He watches as Cater dashes off in labwear, waiting for a minute, before following after him. His duty was in the tropical zone of the botanical garden, so he has no worries even if he does lose him. 
He nearly does a double take when he sees you walking in the courtyard hallways by yourself. And before Trey could rethink his actions, he follows behind you, eyes not leaving your form for a minute. 
You look like you haven't slept well. There's dark circles under your eyes. He hopes you're brushing your teeth. There’s no signs of bandages or wounds that he remembers you in, which he supposes is one relief. Even if he so desperately wishes to cook you a proper meal—you look like you could fall over at any minute.
The realization your path is leading to the botanical garden comes just as Trey catches sight of the glass dome. He wants to rush in after you, but he stops himself just as the door swings close behind your form.
Cater is in there. It all makes sense now. Trey has to give it to him—Cater really does know every little happening in the school. But Trey knows him well too—and if he had to guess, even if Cater manages to talk to you, it won’t end pretty. His inability to be genuine will definitely only set you on edge and less likely to reciprocate. 
The waiting game he plays is nothing compared to the silence he had to endure before. Trey doesn’t have to look to know that you’re the one slamming open the doors to the botanical gardens, labwear dirtied and face twisted in a frustrated anger. He watches as you enter Professor Crewel’s office again and after some time, pop back out in completely different clothes. 
His chest tightens in longing as he continues to follow after (more from an instinctual drive now, rather than deliberate), trying to keep you in sight within the stone pillars. He wants to call out after you so badly and ask you what’s the matter, if you need help with anything. If there was anything he could do to make you forgive him for watching you bleed out on dewy grass. The sun is about to set, warm golden rays flickering between pillars and casting long shadows. Trey’s so enamored with following after you that he flinches back when the sun directly shines into his eyes, blinding him momentarily. 
He barely manages to get a hold of himself. By the time his eyes blink away the blurry blots, he realizes you’re looking back at him. His breath stops. Your eyes are wide and frightened as they are that day, and his heart drops to his stomach. Both of you don’t move, merely staring at each other. 
You finally break the connection, turning around and quickly walking away. Trey gasps, remembering to breathe, lungs screaming for air. 
What was that?
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x. Entombment
It's a nice sunny afternoon in the Heartslabyul domain. There weren't any track club activities nor dreaded remedial lessons. If anything, this free time would have been perfect for a nap. He hadn’t been up to any large shenanigans like this since the whole fiasco of [First] and Yuu. 
“I don’t think this is a good idea.” 
Ace scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You got a better one, loosey Deucy? If we don’t do this now, then all of us are stuck until Housewarden grows a pair of balls.” 
Deuce Spade bites his lips. “I just think there might be a better way around this.”
“Yeah? And the sky is blue. Keep going, we don't have much time." Ace cranes his neck to the side of the bush, eyes warily looking out to make sure the coast is clear. 
Deuce grumbles but continues plucking, some roses already tucked within his arms. They chose a bush the furthest away from the dorm, in a hidden corner where no arched windows could overlook them. It was necessary, because today was Wednesday, and the Housewarden would have their heads for plucking his beloved roses out of all the flora.
His fingers are bleeding already, finger pads torn from repetitive tugging on the thorns and stems. They couldn’t afford taking any of the gardening tools, lest they be questioned for what they were doing with them. Still, even he had his limits.  
“Why is it that you aren’t helping at all?” Deuce snipes at Ace, who scowls back. 
“You want to be caught by someone, genius?” Ace replies snarkily. “Someone has to keep look out.”
“Doesn’t explain why I have to do all the work.” 
Ace rolls his eyes, deigning not to bother engaging in another futile argument that would lead to nowhere. Deuce is about to cut off a particularly stubborn rose when Ace pipes up again.
“...Did they ever respond to your texts?” Deuce only deflates in response. Ace’s mouth slants crookedly in an annoyed grimace. The two of them know full well what the answer to that was.
“Damn that cat…” Ace mutters bitterly under his breath. Deuce doesn’t say anything. He too, is finding it hard to not feel petty towards Grim right now. Weren’t they friends? He could’ve afforded to help them out somehow. But it’s no use. Their texts went unanswered. Headmaster had banned them from stepping foot onto Ramshackle grounds. It’s like you had closed everything off from them.
It’s why he doesn’t protest this plan, as reckless as it is. He’s not any better than Ace—he needs to see you. He and Ace were your closest friends, your first friends! He loved you. That had to mean something. If it didn’t, then…
“I think this is enough.” Deuce adjusts the messy bouquet in his hands, attempting to hold them without crushing the delicate petals. Ace looks over and nods in approval. He takes out crimson ribbons and a silk handkerchief and begins tying it around the stems in a very artful way that has Deuce’s eyebrows raising.
“Where did you get that?” Ace smirks in response at the interrogative question.
“Don’t worry about it.” Ace snatches the bouquet from his hands and slips in an envelope with the housewarden’s seal. Deuce silences the questions on the tip of his tongue. For whatever Ace has planned, he’s rather not know anything more troublesome than necesscary. 
What he failed to account for was getting caught. Housewarden Riddle was beyond furious for what they did. It was only by Trey and Cater's gentle reminders that what they did was for all of them, that he only calmed down.
Deuce supposes three days with the collar is better than a week. Even if it is a heavy thing that weighs on his very soul.
He only hopes that you don't notice the thorns they forgot to trim.
It’s a given that although Trey is the right hand of Heartslabyul, Cater is considered the left hand of Housewarden Riddle. It’s been that way since Deuce himself enrolled in NRC, and possibly even further back. He hadn’t understood it quite then, but after some time, he realized something that he should’ve realized a long time ago. 
To never get on Cater’s bad side.
There are events where the five of them gather outside of Yuu’s influence. Administrative meetings, monthly tea parties, and the occasional casual hang out. When you’re aware of how much of your life is affected from being not like the others, it’s common to side with those who are like you. 
Cater had called the meeting this time. It was a bit out of the blue, at least for him and Ace. It’s only when they’re all gathered around the playing table in the lounge, not another soul in sight, when Deuce realizes Cater has that gleam in his eye. One that screams that he got a viral lead on a hot topic. His upperclassman must have been investigating.
"Remember how mirrors are considered to be portals?"
Deuce's neck prickles.
"Your point, Cater?" Their housewarden is impatient, not aware of what the question poses. His arms are crossed with his eyebrows furrowed in a frustrated glare. Deuce realizes that he must have been the one to send out Cater.
"There's a mirror in the prefect's bedroom." Deuce blurts out, and Riddle’s steely eyes snap over in surprise. Cater nods in affirmation.
"Yeah. I only managed a glimpse, but Yuu covered their mirror." Cater says. 
“Hold on, you went into the prefect’s bedroom? Scratch that, to Ramshackle?” Ace asks. “Why are we just getting this now?”
“Because I just came back Acey,” Cater flicks his forehead, causing Ace to exclaim in pain. Trey smiles faintly at the action. “Also Riddle told me to keep it confidential—you two would have ran straight out if we had told you.” 
Deuce sheepishly rubs his neck at Cater’s pointed sentence. Riddle rubs his chin in thoughtfulness, eyebrows still furrowed. 
“But there isn’t anything magical about that mirror, is there?” Riddle asks, skepticism coating his tone. “The puppet could have simply covered that mirror out of an odd preference.”
“Acey, didn’t you mention that Yuu always mentioned seeing things in that mirror?” Cater responds, deflecting the question upon his underclassmen. Ace straightens as he and Deuce both exchange a glance.
“Yeah…something about a mouse in their mirror,” Ace answers slowly, face scrunched in an effort to recall memories. “I always thought it was just crazy dreams but…”
“Yuu was always insisting about it,” Deuce chimes in. “Said the mouse speaks to them and everything—that there was another world it was in.”
Trey and Cater share a furtive glance together before looking at Riddle. Their housewarden seems to be taking in the new information, closing his eyes in thought. For a while, no one dares to speak. 
“What do you think, Riddle?” Trey finally breaks the heavy silence, and Deuce breathlessly releases a sigh. Leave it to Trey to speak for all of them.
“If the mirror in the bedroom is magical, then that changes things.” Riddle pronounces with conviction. “If that mirror potentially holds a dimension, then that would be the perfect place to trap someone.”
“Cater.” The orange head straightens to attention at the stern command. “Find a way to get the puppet out of the dorm for a while. We’ll need to look into this ourselves.”
Cater smirks and a chill runs down Deuce’s spine. While Cater still has an easy going look, his jade green eyes have darkened with a sadistic gleam. 
“Roger that, housewarden!” His upperclassman chirps, already taking out his phone. 
Riddle is already barking orders that each of them are to take up within this mission of theirs. But Deuce nearly misses his task, eyes stuck on Cater’s face as he scrolls his phone.
He catches a glimpse of a photo before it’s quickly clicked away. Deuce snaps back to Riddle just in time for Cater to shoot him a wary glare, checking to make sure no one else was looking. 
Deuce is very glad he is working together with Cater.
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sky-is-the-limit · 6 months
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It's pretty simple, really. Don't get romantically involved with a fellow soldier. The task force is a unit, a second family. Any other relationship developing could create unnecessary, dangerous complications and you know damn well you cannot afford that. You worked hard to fit in, you worked hard to prove that you, a woman, can do as much as the next man in line for the job. Hell, in your case, even better.
"Weakness."
CW: F!reader x Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick +18/NSFW/F!Masturbation
P.s I'm not a writer!
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Rules, rules, rules.
Your Captain's words ring in your head every time one of these unwanted thoughts creep into your mind. "One of the best sniper shooters I've ever got to work with." You're proud of your accomplishments, of your resilience and brain when it comes to work, always giving your best self to get the task done, to make sure you have your team's back, to never let anyone down and above all, yourself.
No one can be perfect though, right? Everyone has an Achilles' heel, a weakness strong enough to take the bravest man down, to make someone forget all the important attributes that make an obedient soldier and that's exactly what he was to you. A weakness. The name that answers to all your desires, a thought engraved permantently in your brain, never disappearing no matter how hard you've tried. And you have.
Countless nights when you had given in the advances of a drunken stranger, hoping that it will be enough to forget him, to get lost in the moment with someone whose name or face don't even matter. The only reason you let another man kiss you, taste you, touch body.. is so you can feel something real. Something that isn't your imagination where he's the only one always present.
The worst part of this? It's not just you indulging into this madness. Perhaps if it was one-sided, it'd be easier for you to bury it in the depths of your mind. Only allowing yourself to feel it late at night when you're alone in your bed, the only witness to your secret being your fingertips and his name leaving your mouth softly, like a desperate prayer for salvation. It's not just you though.
/ / /
"That blondie over there is practically undressing you with her eyes, Garrick."
There it is. That uncomfortable feeling in your stomach that makes you want to disappear from the surface of the earth. It happens every damn Friday when you and the boys hang out at the nearest pub. Always the same scenario, always a different girl, never you.
You should be used to it by now, and yet the way Soap nudges him to go over and leave with someone else tonight still stings. You want to punch that smirk off of Johnny's face but it's not his fault. You wish for that woman to fall on her ass, embarass herself but it's not her fault. You crave for him to finally snap, forget about the rules and drag you back to his car so he can fuck you with all that desperation that has been building up inside both of you. He won't though and it's not his fault.
"Nah, not my type mate." Any other woman would feel relieved to hear this. Hear the man she wants so badly turn down the chance to leave with a pretty girl for the night but not you. Maybe it'd be easier if you got to see him flirting with a stranger, his hand finding it's way to her waist, flirty whispers foreseeing a promising night between them.. Maybe something would crack, maybe jealousy would work it's trick and get you to stop thinking about him. Not Kyle though.
He spits out that sentence like it's no big deal, his piercing brown eyes staring into yours, never breaking eye contact as the words leave his mouth. If Soap wasn't so distracted, mumbling with frustrated jealousy that Gaz always gets the attention of the prettiest girls, he'd be able to see why he always turns them down.
He knows damn well what he's doing. Like there's an unspoken bet between the two of you, of who's gonna break first and he has to win it. The look in his eyes, confirming your suspicions that he also thinks of you when he's alone, the way his lips part slightly every time you stand up to go get another drink, the sight of your barely covered thighs right in front of him.
He wants you and that's the worst part. Just like every night, this one ends the same. With you two parting ways in the cold corridor, your only company his presence in your thoughts. At least his room being next to yours could mean that you fall asleep facing each other and that's adds some sense of comfort to your loneliness.
/ / /
Another sleepless night finds you alone in your sheets, the moonlight being the only thing illuminating your room as the soft sound of the rain pours down outside, reminding you that Autumn is finally here. It has become your habit, a lonely, desperate routine where you just lay there, thinking of him. Quite frankly, you don't even care that his room is right next to yours, that if the walls are thin enough maybe he can hear you touching yourself to the thought of him.
It's a deluded way to cope with all the desire filling up your body, feeling your core pulse and twitch as your fingertips find their way down to your clit and you wonder. How would his touch feel, how would he do it..
"Fuck, Gaz" a soft whine escapes your lips, your movements picking up the pace, making your hips back up and down against the bed, craving friction, craving him.
Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick is a passionate man. Whether it's a mission, a workout, hanging out with his friends.. He always lives in the moment, full of energy and a tremendous thirst for adrenaline. Always so eager for action. There's no doubt in your mind that that's exactly how he'd do you.
"I need you, fuck-" You admit to yourself breathlessly, sucking on your own finger before slowly bringing it down to wet your nipple, sending a shiver down your spine as you drag your fingertips through your own slick arousal.
You're a mess. Suddenly the cool temperature of the room turns into unbearable heat, sweat dripping down from your forehead, hair messy against your pillow as you buck up your hips against your palm, biting down on your bottom lip in an unsuccessful attempt to be quiet but as you get closer to your climax, you can't control it.
"Gaz-" Your mind travels back to earlier in the afternoon when you walked in on him working out at the gym, a pair of black shorts hanging low from his hips with a matching bandana on his forehead to keep the sweat from dripping down on his face. He caught you watching, your eyes were glued on his defined arms, occasionally wondering off to his chest then down to his abdomen. How can you not when he looks like that?
"Alright there, Y/L/N?" God, that smile will be the death of you, the sight of his fangs driving you insane that you can't help but wonder what they'd feel like sucking down on your neck. It'd be funny to think that you could ever scarcely deal with the attraction you feel towards him.
Suddenly it's hard to breathe, your thighs start to tremble whilst your fingers stroke your clit faster, you can feel it coming. God, his hands, his fingers.. The thought gets you to bring one finger back to your mouth, wetting it with the tip of your tongue. Would he do that? Stuff his fingers in your mouth while he's buried deep inside of you? A soft moan fell from your lips at the thought of it, pinching your nipple as your eyelids flutter to the sensation.
You're so lost in pleasure that you can barely hear the first knock on the door, thinking that it's your imagination playing tricks on you. The second one is louder making your hand jolt away from your thighs, a swell of embarrassment rising inside you.
"Shit." You mumble quietly before throwing on the oversized t-shirt that you normally sleep in before checking the clock on the wall. It's way too late for social calls unless it's an emergency. Another knock on the door snaps you out of it and without making sure that you're presentable, you open it.
"Gaz?" He doesn't look distressed, quite the opposite with his arms crossed over his chest, head titled to the side as he takes in the sight in front of him with the same smirk that makes your knees want to give in every time. So, no emergency then.
"It's late, what are you doing here?" You try your best to appear as if you were asleep, that would justify the-
"God, you're a mess Y/N." He may have his usual playful look on his face but his tone suggest something different. He's not teasing you for your state, not this time. It's like he's trying to catch his breath, eyes travelling down to your bare thighs and back to meet yours before he takes a step forward, leading to you taking one back.
"You're not as quiet as you think you are." Oh.
"I don't know what you're talking about." You mumble quietly, trying to avoid his gaze. Though your alone time was cut short before you could finish what you've started, the anticipation and thrill fill your body once again, like you never stopped touching yourself. This is what he does to you.
"Thing is, Y/N.." Kyle takes another step towards you, closing the door behind him without breaking eye contact like his life dependent on it.
"When you start a game.." His hand reaches out to caress your wrist softly before taking it into his hand, lips parted as his suggestive voice spreading a warm heat on your cheeks.
"Be brave enough to finish it."
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icallhimjoey · 2 months
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Define Close
♥ ♥  Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader
Summary: What good are flatmates even, if they don't comfort you when you need it most? Or when you need it a normal amount? Or, you know, when you don't really need it, but just really want it?
CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, afab!reader, hurt/comfort i guess? idk we're sad a lot and joe cheers us up a lot, mentions of reader having hair long enough to be played with
Author’s note: last one! i hope this non-plot fic was all right! it doesnt feel like it fully counted as a five-part story just because it doesn't feel like anything really happened besides... you know, a lot of hugging. anyways. enjoy!
Wordcount: 3.9K
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part one - part two - part three - part four - part five
When Joe woke up the next morning, all promises he made to himself the night before had vanished. Like promises people made late at night in bed were wont to do.
I’ll start on Monday.
I’ll wake up early, do it in the morning.
Thing’s will be different when the sun rises.
They never were.
He didn’t know why he thought it would be different this time. Sure, he still thought it wasn’t exactly normal to wake up with his flatmate’s face pressed into his chest, but why would he risk doing anything that was going to change that?
You kept his bed warm. Satisfied his tactile nature. Filled something hollow within him which he didn’t realise was empty before. And in moments like these, he could tell it was spilling over. Making mess inside his chest.
Joe wanted to know why it never felt invasive.
He tried to think back how he got here.
Where it all began.
How it had evolved.
And why it never felt weird. Why you never needed to talk about any of it, words completely unnecessary. Why the only two words ever spoken about it, your wild and insane “Thank you.” felt like the most disgusting overkill of verbal communication Joe had ever experienced.
The two of you were just bad with words, he decided.
Joe felt how you stretched a leg, one that was still stuck between two of his, and carefully held you a little tighter until he felt you fully relax again.
Good.
You weren’t allowed to wake up yet.
Morning sun softly lit Joe’s room through the cracks in his curtains and, Joe knew it was a Sunday, but it also felt like a Sunday.
Nothing planned for the day. Hours of nothing that stretched out before him, time he got to fill with whatever felt right in the moment.
And right now, delaying waking up felt right.
He could pretend to ignore all the things that stirred inside. The questions. The uncertainties.
He could pretend to ignore the bodily reactions you were responsible for. He had done so for ages. Had gotten real good at pretending.
But he wondered if you knew.
If you felt the same stirring he felt.
If you could see it.
If you also sometimes blew off your friends, just to hang out at home. If you also wished the friends you had over would just fucking leave already when you’d feel drowsy after a big meal. If you also sometimes had a hard time falling back asleep after waking up at random hours, just because you had to deal with a lot of disappointment at being alone.
He shouldn’t ask for more.
He was getting plenty.
Right here. Right now.
Joe pulled a blanket of appreciation all the way over himself, and he felt full. Logically understood he wouldn’t have it forever, so he best really focus on the right here and the right now, and push any other thoughts aside.
He tried to focus on every part of your body that touched parts of his body until he located your heartbeat, and then focussed on that until he fell asleep again.
When he woke up about 45 minutes later, it was to your fingers lightly stroking his face that slowly tickled him awake.
You trailed a finger tip down his nose and when you pulled away, Joe tipped his head back a little, chasing your touch. It drew your eye to a little red patch underneath his chin.
“You’ve got a…” you started, voice barely there, throat full of sleep still. Joe felt how you scratched at his skin a little, and stuck his chin out more to help give you a better look.
“Does this hurt?” you asked all innocently before pressing a sharp nail into the soft flesh just past his jawline.
“Ow,” Joe cried, flinching away into his pillow more, immediately far more awake than he wanted to be. “Jesus Christ, good morning, what the...” Joe huffed a laugh, and you hid your face into his armpit to hide your own smile.
Just for a second.
When you moved your head back onto his chest, Joe rubbed at where you poked him.
“You’ve got an ingrown hair,” you used a finger to move his aside and pulled the skin taught for a better look. Joe’s hand moved to hold you by the wrist, making sure he could pull you away the second you’d try some of that bullshit again.
But instead, you took hold of his chin and moved his head to the side, inspecting the whole area closely.
Your intense attention made Joe grow shy, and you saw how a blush crept up his neck from up close. He tried to brave through, tried his best to not tuck his chin in and trap your fingers there.
But then you did it for him, moved his face by the chin and let your eyes trail up his jaw, over his sideburns and up into his hair.
Joe felt a little timid, not sure if he was mentally even fully awake yet, face heating up under your soft gaze.
He realised you’d never done this before. Usually, when you’d wake up next to each other, you’d blink your bleary eyes, have a look around his bedroom and get up and out. Leave his room without another word shared. Leave him alone, all by himself. This was the first time you’d stayed in his bed a little longer. Lazed around and woke up slow.
It was nice.
Your chin pressed into his chest felt nice.
The weight of your thigh that rested over his hip felt nice.
All this innocent soft attention in your shared warmth felt nice.
“Hmm, you’re so warm,” Joe whispered, because you were, and it felt nice.
It was all so nice.
Your eyes roaming his features was maybe a bit much, seeing as you were quite literally able to count his pores, you were so close.
But it was still nice.
You’d created this bubble of blissful contentment together and Joe let himself drown into the right here and right now of it all.
Joe loved it in the bubble.
Would trap you in this bubble with him forever, if he could.
But his cheeks were blushing so hard, and he stared up at the ceiling in hopes of making it stop. In your next move, you let go of his chin and raised a hand up to his hair where three fingers disappeared into his hairline for a second.
Just for a literal second, though.
“You need to wash your hair.” you said dryly and moved to sit up.
Joe groaned a little.
You’d popped the bubble.
Just like that.
It was like reality got shoved right into his face as you sat up and he almost went and pulled right back in. Right back into his chest, into that bubble, where everything sparkled, and tingled, and went fuzzy around the edges.
But alas. You were already gone.
When you later met in your living area, everything was sort of back to normal. All casual. Like you hadn’t just spent another night wrapped up in bed together, parts of bodies close to other parts of bodies that they had no right being so close to.
You were flatmates, for fuck’s sake.
And sure, you were a different kind of flatmate to each other than your average run-of-the-mill flatmate. But still, how were you only just flatmates to each other still?
No lingering awkwardness.
Never an embarrassing moment.
Just a, “We’re out of dishwasher tablets,” as you grabbed the last one and showed him the empty cardboard box.
Followed by a, “Do you want some coffee?” and a neutral face thrown his way.
Like you were talking to your mum.
“Yea,” Joe answered, and tried showing as much indifference as he could in return. “Coffee sounds lovely.”
And that was that. Once again. Just flatmates.
Joe pretended all was fine. Pretended it was fine how you never talked about any of it.
He didn’t really have the right to complain, he thought. Because he still got to reach hands across and squeeze your arm in thanks when you passed him a drink, and you weren’t weirded out by that.
He still got to sometimes come home and see your charming little pouty face and know he’d get to hug you all night long, and you didn’t deny him the snuggles.
And still, if it got really bad, you’d cry and he’d find you and comfort you until you stopped crying, and then he’d make a stupid joke and you’d laugh and, are you fucking joking, he’d be left on cloud nine for a days.
To be able to get you from tears into giggles with just a couple of wrapping arms, and stroking hands, and silly comments?
Did you even know what that did to him?
Joe thought he’d gotten a weird sort of sixth sense for it now. He could snuff out your mood just from the sounds of how you’d walk in after work. Knew exactly what the evening was going to look like from the way that you were breathing. Could sniff it out like a bloodhound, he was that tuned in.
Unhealthy?
Maybe.
But he loved it too much to really do anything about it.
Even when you started pulling away a little again, like you’d done before. Would walk in sort of happy and pleased and would just make yourself a large salad for dinner before you’d go for a quick drink with friends.
It sent him down that same fucking spiral.
Why was he upset his flatmate was no longer upset so often?
How in the world was he even going to begin to unpack that?
Joe didn’t want to admit to anything, because you didn’t talk about anything, but it affected him plenty. He still got to squeeze your shoulder, and poke you in the side, and sometimes massage a socked foot when you did end up on the sofa together, but... fuck it. Joe wanted your body pressed all up against his, every night, and if he had it his way, not just on the sofa but then also in his bed right after.
He let it build.
He let it build up far too high until, one strange afternoon, it all tumbled down.
He’d been moping around since earlier that morning. Had to get some work done but just grew more and more annoyed and he didn’t really know how to articulate what it was. Was it you? Or was it him? Or was it something else entirely, and was this just easier to be upset with because it was on his mind so often?
He kind of didn’t even want to figure it out.
Just wanted to be annoyed.
And then you’d walked in, and he could hear. He frowned and listened and... yep. That sounded just about right.
Joe was stood in the kitchen when you stepped into the room and for a moment, you just looked at each other.
You expected things to go how they usually went when you walked in the way you’d just done.
If Joe was in, he’d find you and hold your face to make you look at how he empathetically mimicked your pout and knitted eyebrows before he hugged you tight and whispered all sorts of things about pizza toppings into your ear.
If Joe was in, he never even needed to take a proper look at you to know you’d needed tending to. Which is what he’d then always do.
He’d find you, and tend to you until you no longer needed tending to, and yet, now...
Now, he wasn’t really doing anything.
And you never talked.
But, then... now what?
Joe just looked at you, leant into his shoulders as his hands rested on the black shiny countertop of the island and seemed irritated.
Kind of angry.
This was new.
Different.
Needed different approach.
So...
“You all right?”
For a moment you thought that maybe Joe was mad with you, with the way his face read thunder as he took a moment to answer that question. Maybe you shouldn’t have asked.
But then he sighed, and his expression softened slightly before he shrugged and answered, “Define all right.”
“Cool, me neither. Come sit.”
For a split second, Joe thought, no. Let’s keep distance and talk for a change.
But before he even knew it, his legs were carrying him over to the sofa where you waited for him to sit down first, which he then simply just did.
Joe let himself fall back into the sofa and kept his arms slightly open, knowing you were likely going to drop down right next to him.
But you didn’t want to just let Joe hug you, this time.
Joe looked like he needed to be hugged himself just as much.
Maybe even more than you, you thought.
So instead, you climbed onto the sofa feet first, sat down next to him but faced into him, and draped both arms around his neck, pushing your cheek against his in a tight hug. Your knees dug into the back of the sofa a little uncomfortably, and it was like Joe could tell, because he shimmied a little until you both sighed and sagged into each other.
You felt Joe hug you back, arms around your waist and flat palms spread around your sides. It almost felt like his arms looped around you twice as he pulled you tightly into him.
It was wild how Joe could feel his bad mood drain from his body, and he wondered if this was how you always felt. If Joe’s embraces did the same to you.
You sat like that for a while, sometimes unsticking cheek from cheek to find a better bit of skin to press your face into.
You sat like that until Joe felt his annoyance make way for something else to shine through.
This would usually be the moment he’d make a joke. A little comment that would make you laugh, even if you didn’t want to and tried to hide it, but Joe could always feel how the muscles in your stomach tensed in his small moment of victory.
Not this time.
And it was silly, because you were waiting for it too.
For Joe to make light of something heavy. Because he was so good at making light of all things heavy.
But nothing really came.
You felt how Joe moved his face down and found the crook of your neck to bury his nose into. Maybe he was actually crying. You weren’t sure. But just in case, you used soothing fingers to swipe across his shoulders, across where they could reach, and you felt Joe’d head grow heavier as he relaxed more.
“Better?” you asked softly, and Joe just hummed in confirmation.
Something euphoric bubbled up inside you.
Success.
Then Joe moved his head up and you thought it was maybe to press it against the side of yours once again, but instead he got it right in front of yours and let your foreheads touch. Let your noses bump.
You weren’t sure what happened between the surge of elation and your noses touching, but suddenly, you kind of felt like crying again. Felt the dark mood you’d been in when you walked in a little earlier return.
But it didn’t feel like this moment was really about you, for once.
So you just... stayed there. Stayed put. Kept your eyes closed, and let your noses touch, and hoped that whatever you were doing was at least making Joe feel better.
“Is this helping?” you whispered, and Joe felt it against his mouth.
In turn, he sighed, and you felt that against yours before he answered, “Yea.”
His arms squeezed tighter and you tried thinking of a time where you’d been closer than this. If this counted as the closest you’d ever been.
And then you felt his nose run up along the side of yours before moving down the other side of it and, probably. This was probably the closest you’d ever been.
“Yea,” he said again, and then followed it up with, “You’re not going anywhere.”
The slightly higher pitch of his voice made Joe sound like he was crying. You checked, kind of had to check, and moved back slightly to have a look.
But he wasn’t crying. Seemed wildly wrecked in a different way. One slightly foreign to you. It made you furrow your brow in confusion, because, what did he mean, ‘you’re not going anywhere’?
You weren’t going anywhere.
You never did.
You shared a flat together and you were always there.
Joe saw how you tried to make sense of his words in real time, up close, and it made sense to him that you didn’t immediately get it. You never used actual words together. Of course this was going to take you a second. He understood. But still. It was fucking annoying that you didn’t.
Joe had to look away for a second, to stare at the wall on the other side of the room as he leant back into the sofa more, arms sliding down your back as he did.
With his head tilted back onto the backrest, he carefully started, “You know…” and then took another moment to think. Because, what did you know?
You waited, mostly because you were unsure of what else to do.
You and Joe didn’t talk. Didn’t ask questions. Just... you just were. Were how you were.
So you waited, and saw Joe’s eyes wander down to the collar of your top where he took one of the unbuttoned buttons in between his fingers to play with.
“I don’t think I can… I might not have the strength,”
Never talking also meant you’d not practiced listening. And Joe made listening difficult, because as he fidgeted with your collar, you couldn’t help your eyes from drifting to a bicep. You concluded his top was too tight around the arms, and let your eyes linger there, because it looked nice.
A flex of the muscle brought you back to him.
For a small moment, you made eye-contact and you realised you were too close.
“When are you going to… when will you see it?” Joe pressed, ducking his head to force eye-contact as you tried moving back a little. His voice remained soft, words almost cautious as they found your ears.
You didn’t really have a response.
“I’m not…” you began, thinking you’d find out what exactly you weren’t along the way, but you faltered.
You had no idea what you weren’t. Had no idea what to say.
“I’m not…” you tried again.
Still didn’t get any further. Not good with words, you thought to yourself. Why was Joe making you talk?
You never talked.
But Joe waited, just like you’d waited for him before. Gave you time to find the right way to articulate whatever was going on inside your mind.
And he shouldn’t have.
You suddenly inhaled sharply and created more distance between the two of you as you said, “I’m not really hungry.”
“I–... what?”
You got up from the sofa.
“If you want a pizza, you’re going to have to eat the whole thing yourself I’m afraid. I think we’ve got some– yea, there’s at least two in the freezer still,”
“But–...”
You were already on your way to show him.
“Tandoori chicken and, um, one with mushrooms, I think, I got them last week, unless you’ve already had them, they should be in there...”
Joe couldn’t fucking believe it.
You were... you were being awkward.
Being all weird.
Had he made things awkward and weird? By talking?
Surely, that couldn’t be the case.
He watched you nervously fight with a freezer drawer that didn’t seem to want to budge for a second, until it did, and you yanked it all the way out. Made it clatter against the tiles.
Oh, it was absolutely the case.
“Fuck– sorry,” you near-violently shoved it back into its slot, and the sound of plastic sliding across ice made his skin crawl.
“Hey,” Joe was already up on his feet.
“Yea, see? Chicken and garlic mushroom, you can have–”
“Hey, hey, stop.” Joe rounded the island, got you by the arms and turned you away from the freezer.
“If you want–”
“I said, stop.”
You then did stop. Let Joe close the freezer door as you closed your eyes and exhaled through flared nostrils.
Joe studied your face, confused and worried by what the fuck had just happened. How you’d gone from lovingly embracing each other on the sofa until you’d both left each other’s shapes across your fronts like you were memory foam, to suddenly this weird, embarrassing, panicky state in the kitchen.
Words.
“It’s okay if you don’t–” Joe started, wanting to tell you it was fine if you didn’t want to talk, but this time you cut him off. Said, “Joe, please,” in a wobbly voice, because you did want what Joe meant earlier. You did see it. Did want that.
But you were flatmates.
Joe moved his hands and cupped your face.
It made you open your eyes and you immediately wished you hadn’t.
His eyes were so fucking expressive, they kind of bore all.
It was weird to want to look away just as much as you wanted to keep this connection with him, and you moved your hands to hold onto his wrists so that, even if you did end up looking away, he at least wouldn’t let go of you.
You watched his eyes flick between yours before they flicked down at your mouth.
It made you do the same, and, shit.
No.
You were flatmates.
But then Joe leant a little closer, and you didn’t move away. Did the opposite in fact.
Joe let your foreheads touch once more, and allowed the two of you to be close again.
You were the worst at talking.
Never talked.
But, fuck, you were so good at being close.
Joe knew that he was going to have to let everything else do the talking. Like it had always done, up until now. He just... he needed to articulate a little clearer, that was all.
You lifted your chin slightly, just enough to nuzzle. To press your nose against his and for a brief moment, you moved like you were kissing, but your lips didn’t touch.
“Joe,” you breathed, sounding unsure, and Joe stilled for a second. “We’re flatmates.”
And God, if that same exact thought hadn’t kept him from ever moving past where you were right this second.
“Yea,” he agreed in a whisper.
You were flatmates.
But then you let a hand move up to his neck, and Joe copied the move. Got you by the base of the skull and tested to see if he could guide you to tip your head the way he wanted it to tip.
You easily let him.
Lips brushed. Only briefly. No one flinched or moved back, and Joe hovered right in front until he felt your fingers pull him closer.
“But we’re close.”
the end
---
The Taglisted
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taglist currently full, sorry
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heizlut · 1 month
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In A Fight… Right?
cw: mentions of blood, kinda dark
tags: subfem!reader, dom!childe/foul legacy, improper use of foul legacy transformation, rough sex, possessive!childe/foul legacy, unnatural monster tongue, not really proofread, probably more tags but you get the gist
nsfw under the cut
check out my masterlist here!
˚✧₊⁎🐋⁎⁺˳✧༚ ˚✧₊⁎🐋⁎⁺˳✧༚ ˚✧₊⁎
A classic way to start your weekend; battling Childe in the golden house for what seems to be the hundredth time. Yet neither of you seem to tire of it. Back and forth, you go through the motions of battling each other, growing more amused each time one of you lands a hit on the other. “Is that all you’ve got?”, you call out to Childe from across the room, teasing him.
He raises an eyebrow, still looking amused, “You do realize I can still use my foul legacy transformation, right?” You give a shit eating grin, “I could take you.” Childe tilts his head slightly, a small smirk plays on his lips, “In a fight right?” The look in your eyes and that wicked smile on your face told him all he needed to know.
He makes his way across the room towards you, leaning down to speak softly and teasingly in your ear, “You sure about that?” His voice and his breath fanning across your ear send shivers down your spine. All you can do is nod. You weren’t backing down from this. You always wanted to know just how much bigger he was down there in that form… Childe laughs darkly, “You have no idea what you’ve just signed yourself up for, sweetheart.”
He takes a few steps back, keeping his eyes locked on yours. His gaze seemed playful, but more in the way that a predator might play with its food before it devours it. Childe gives a final smirk before his transformation begins. Purple electricity and flowing water cover him as foul legacy overtakes him. You stand there feeling your heart quicken at the sight. Now standing somewhere close to 10 feet in height, Childe takes a step towards you, his voice deeper than usual, "Still wanna do this?" "I said I could take you.. I meant it", you challenge back at him.
Childe's laugh sounds a bit more sinister in this form as he now stands in front of you, "So confident for such a small thing like you..." He leans down, his voice low, "I'll fill you so good you won't ever be able to take another man's cock." You feel yourself grow more aroused.
His words were meant as a threat, but you wanted so badly to his and his alone, "Then do it." Your words strike something within him and he moves quickly. One large hand grabs your waist and the other holds the back of your head, "Open up, sweetheart."
You obediently open your mouth slightly, unsure of how he could possibly kiss you with that mask on. That is, until you see a long pointed tongue come out from under the mask. You panic slightly, turning your head away only for Childe to grab hold of your jaw and roughly turn your face back to his, "You wanted this. Don't forget that." He squeezes your cheeks just enough to make your mouth open more for him. His slimy tongue forces its way down your throat and Childe lets out a low groan as your throat constricts around his tongue when you gag.
He pulls away after several moments of probing your throat with his tongue, causing you to sputter and cough now that you can finally breathe. Before you can utter a single word, Childe rips off your pants, leaving your bare and dripping for him. If only you could see the smirk on his face from underneath his mask...
He takes a pointed finger and swipes it through your folds and lets out a satisfied hum, "So wet already..." Childe leans down so he is right in front of your face, "What a little slut you are for being turned on by this form." Your face heats at his words. He was right though. This is what you had been wanting.
Without warning, he lifts you up with ease causing you to let out a gasp. He lines your pussy up with the bottom of his mask and his long tongue appears again. "Hang on to my horns", he demands and you grab on to hold yourself steady. His tongue flicks at your clit, drawing a needy moan from your lips.
A muffled laugh comes from Childe as he moves his tongue between your folds, lapping at your slick, "Fucking delicious" he mumbles. "Need... more", as he says this, his tongue probes at your entrance before finally penetrating you.
Your eyes flutter at the sensation. It's an odd feeling, but one you can't seem to get enough of. His tongue was so long and the pointed end of it kept flicking at your g-spot with perfect precision as it darted in and out of you. Because of the length of it, not only was it penetrating you, but the base of it was smooth against your clit.
Double stimulation as you held the horns of his mask tightly and his large hands gripped at your waist. The pleasure so intense that you failed to noticed his pointed fingers made you bleed in his grip. The blood didn't go unnoticed by Childe though.
Archons... The sight of your blood did something to him. His tongue retreated from your soaked cunt causing you to whine, "Childe.. I was so close..." Your voice a mere breath as your senses were overwhelmed by him. "The only way you'll cum is around my cock", he growls as he sets you down.
He rips off your remaining clothes and lowers his head. His tongue poking out again, but this time swipe at the blood that had blossomed and dripped down your hips and thighs. Satisfied, he straightens up, towering over you as he begins to pull his hardened cock from its confines, "You're gonna be a good girl and take it all."
Your eyes widen at the sight of Childe's cock in this form. His cock was already nicely sized in his human form, but this? It was easily 14 inches and thick as hell. He lets out a dark laugh at your expression as he slowly strokes himself, "What's that look for, sweetheart? Thought you said you could take it." Twisted satisfaction was practically dripping from his voice.
Before you had a chance to respond, he lifts you up in to his lap. The tip of his huge cock pressing against your entrance when he says darkly, "Too bad you can't back out now." In one swift movement, he pushes you down his thick length making you cry out loudly.
"So fucking loud..." Childe shoves his unnatural tongue down your throat yet again, turning your cries into muffled gags and moans. He fucks his cock into you at a pace so fast that all the thoughts you had disappear. His thumb moves to your clit, rubbing in slow circles as your tight pussy flutters around his length.
Childe's pointed fingers dig into your plush hips as he moves you up and down on his cock causing more of your blood to flow onto his fingers. His gaze moves from the blood on his fingers to the blood that now covers his cock. The sight puts him into a frenzy.
His thoughts were clouded by the sight of your blood, the feeling of his cock stretching out your little cunt, and your throat tightening around his probing tongue, "Gonna fill you up with so much cum it'll be dripping from this pussy for days." His words seem to be spoken from his mind as his tongue was still exploring your mouth and throat.
You let out a choked moan, vision hazy as you try your best to keep your eyes on him as he molds you into his own personal fucktoy. "This pussy is mine. You'll only be able to take my cock, no one's gonna be able to touch you. You're mine. All. Fucking. Mine." he growls, his rough and deep thrusts make his words all the more real.
It's too much even for him as he finally gives in with a loud moan. His thick cum spurts into you so deep there's no way you're leaving here not carrying his child inside of you. The feeling of Childe's cock throbbing inside of you has you squirting on his cock, a mix of clear fluid and a little bit of blood from the way he's shaped your pussy to his monstrous length.
As you both ride out the orgasms, his tongue leaves your mouth only to lick the tears from your cheeks that you didn't even realize you had shed. Your vision clears a little as you look at him. Breathless, you give a weak smirk, "See? I knew I could take you.." You let out a broken laugh as you feel him grow hard inside of you again. Archons, Childe could not get enough of you. You were perfect for him.
˚✧₊⁎🐋⁎⁺˳✧༚ ˚✧₊⁎🐋⁎⁺˳✧༚ ˚✧₊⁎
a/n: um i went a little crazy for this one. i wasn’t sure if i wanted to make it kind of dark but i ended up going that direction anyways
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lunamochii · 1 month
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'No more running away.' || atsumu x f!reader
synopsis;
Atsumu doesn't know how to express his feelings and keeps on hurting you.
cw // slight angst, tsundere atsumu, fluff at the end, timeskip tsumu.
¤¤¤
"I love you, Liselotte."
"I love you too, Sieg."
You finish the cake and the soda you bought on your way home from your work, you also finish the romance anime you are watching and damn did that made you feel more depress than ever. Switching off your computer, you look outside from your window and taking a look at the red hue sky.
"I also want to love someone or be love by someone..."
Then you turn to look at your reflection at the mirror beside you and can't help but laugh to yourself knowing full well why anyone wouldn't want to date you. You got up and decided to wash all the dishes and utensils you used.
When done you decided to sleep and while passing by your fridge you saw the tomorrow's date and just shrugs. It will be the same as last year, you will be alone.
You woke up but you remain laying down on your bed not wanting to get up, then your alarm go off and instead of turning off you let it be.
"Ah... I'm sick of this."
Despite all that unwillingness you were on hours ago, you found yourself standing outside the gym. Getting here wasn't that hard as you did your best to ignore all the decorations and the vendors who were selling those heart shape designs. Couples laughing and hugging on the park, side of the street.
"Oh! Your here early, manager!"
You turn around and saw Shoyo and you greeted him with a smile, right. Today is no different from every other days you've live up to.
"Morning, Shoyo."
The two of you walk together inside the gym and you let him take over of the conversation as he talk about how in the past he never gets a single thing during valentines but on his way here, girls were giving him gifts and everything. That's when you notice on how bulky his bag is.
"Oh.. I didn't prepare anything for the team.."
Shoyo immediately catch on and stop on his tracks as he search something frantically on his bag and when he got it he immediately handed it to you
"I actually prepared this for the team! This is yours!"
You carefully took it from his hands and saw it was a cupcake shape in a heart and your name is written on it.
"Shoyo... pfft- hahaha this is so cute! Thank you!"
You hug him and Shoyo breath out seeing how your mood went up, the moment he saw you standing outside the gym he knew something was off and his glad he did prepare those cupcakes with the help of his sister.
Both of you got where to the others are and Shoyo handed his cupcakes and the others saw how he got you a valentines gift, others followed suit making you smile warmly and thank them wholeheartedly.
"Hm? Aren't you going to give our cute manager here a valentine gift Miya-kun?"
Meian the captain of MSBY team tug on the setter and Atsumu answered him with a scowl on his face, ever since you took the job on being the manager of this team. Not even once did Atsumu Miya smiled to your way.
"Ehh should I really? I don't see a reason to give her anything though."
Right. His not wrong too, why would he give you something right? It's not like you two are that close. You only became their manager just a year ago. You also know how much he hates you, despite your spiraling thoughts you manage to smile.
"You didn't have to say it that way Miya!"
"Captain, it's okay. I'm okay. You guys can proceed on practicing, I'll just put your gifts on the locker room."
The voleyball players watch your disappearing figure and they couldn't even say anything. Then their heads turn to Atsumu who was also taken back by what he said and see how sad you look, made him mentally punch himself.
"Miya! You could have worded that nicely!"
Meian angrily said and Atsumu grit his teeth, everyone here knows how much he likes you. He likes you so much that he goes crazy whenever you show your support on the team. He likes you so much that everytime he look over to where you usually sit during one of his matches, he always feels like he can smash the opponent with just his serve.
"Why do you care? It's her own fault if she gets hurt by just that!"
"Miya!"
The others quickly held back their captain from attacking their setter
"What has gotten into you TsumTsum? You like he-"
"I don't!! Like?! More like, I hate her!!"
The sound of water bottle dropping on the wooden floor grab everyone's attention and they spotted you standing there completely dumbfounded. Atsumu's breath hitches seeing you.
"Haha I never knew you hated me that much. Don't worry, I will do my best to stay out of your sight."
No. You should always be at the line of his sight. He doesn't hate you. Don't make that kind of face.
"Let go of me!"
Atsumu storm out of the court. Why is he so mad? Is it because Shoyo manage to beat him on giving you a present? Because the others got you a lot more beautiful gifts? He kick the vending machine. He didn't mean those words. He didn't mean to hurt you.
¤¤
Weeks have pass ever since that incident and you live up to your word, doing your best to stay out of his sight. Making the setter get more agitated, his not doing that great during practice match. His serves doesn't feel that great and their coach have been reprimanding him. He knows he needs to be on his best since they have a upcoming match.
"Thanks!"
"No problem."
He glances at the side and saw you interacting with the others and the sight of you smiling, smiling to the others and not him, it sure made him more agitated. When it was time for their practice, he keeps on missing on the timing.
"Atsumu, set your personal matters aside. I don't need a player who gets distracted easily."
"Sorry coach.."
Grabbing a towel and a water bottle he sat down on a corner, he watch the others play but his eyes search for you and when he found you, a smile appeared to his lips but it disappeared quickly seeing how you laugh and smile fondly towards Kotaro.
"Isn't your birthday the same day our match is?! We should all go drinking after!"
Kotaro suggested but you feel the need to decline, for you it's just another normal day. You got used spending it alone that you even decline the company of your closest friends.
"Ah, Sorry! I made plans with my friends that day so I can't!"
Lies drip from your lips effortlessly
"Ehh really? Too bad, let's go drinking the other day then!"
"Hahaha okay okay! Now, go back to practice."
You push him back on the court and you let out a sigh, you start to pick up the used towels and water bottles and when you were about to refill the bottles, you saw Atsumu staring at you. You bowed curtly and ran away. Ran away from him and that hurt Atsumu.
¤¤
"Can't be help. They were prepared this time, the defeat you experience today only means that you guys still need to keeps on improving. You all can go home after stretching."
You couldn't bring yourself to speak seeing how devastated they look, despite doing their best they couldn't win against the opponent. Meian, being the captain steps up and clap his hands getting the attention of his members.
"Okay, we just need to train harder! Le-"
"My toss was perfect. So why couldn't you hit it perfectly?"
The cold voice of Atsumu followed by his words stop the captain, they all look at him and notice how his glaring hard at Kotaro.
"Huh?"
"Or are you too busy flirting with our manager that you couldn't focus on our game?"
"That's going too far."
Kiyoomi who is usually silent steps up
"Yeah, Bokuto-san was playing just as usual. It's just our oppone-"
"Really? Because every time out he always manages to flirt with her. Maybe his too engrossed with her that *SLAP*"
Atsumu felt his world stop as soon he felt the stinging pain on his cheeks, his eyes slowly drops on the person who just did that to him and his world crumble upon seeing your tears racing down from your eyes to your cheeks
"I know you hate me but you don't have any right to blame other people for the loss you guys got today!"
His hand mindlessly reach out to you but you slap it away and glared at him
"You're the worst."
¤¤
"She's not coming today too..."
Shoyo feels defeated seeing how their training is coming to an end but they didn't see you again. It's been four days and no one got the guts to voice out the reason for the thick air around the team. Atsumu resorted to practicing alone, Kotaro refuses to speak to the setter too despite the convincing of their captain.
"We can't blame her. Atsumu's words were really harsh."
Shion, the libero of their team speaks up and Shoyo silently agree. He might have known Atsumu during his highschool days but he knows he didn't mean any of those words. Atsumu may deny it but Shoyo sees how the setter looks at their manager.
Wake up, eat, sleep and repeat. That has been your routine for four days.
Atsumu's words really did a unthinkable impact to you, despite him showing not any ounce of an interest ever since you join the team, you still like him. Yes, you like him. During your highschool years, you watch one of his match during nationals and you were drawn to him seeing how he passionately loves to play voleyball. You couldn't be more than happier when you were accepted as a manager of the MSBY, knowing you applied for this job to be close to him but who knew he would be like this? Who would have thought that ha hates you.
"Let's just go to sle- *ring ring*"
You let out a grunt and reach out to your phone, not bothering who's the caller only to be met with your friend's loud voice
"Oi! How dare you ignore our messages and call?! Don't tell me you didn't do anything during your birthday?!"
You groan and check to see who and saw it was one of your very close friend, well, after that day you decided to block anyone who tries to call or text you since you wanted to be alone, it was only today that you lifted that block.
"A hello would have been good." You muttered and got up from your bed
"Dress warm and come down. We are all waiting for you."
"Huh?"
You immediately ran out from your apartment and there they are, you saw your friends holding a bottle of beers and snacks. When they spotted you, they all grin at you.
"Hurry! You have made us waited for days already!"
You stare at them blankly before laughing and going back inside to change into warm clothes, you pick your keys and immediately went out. When you got to them, they all jump at you and greeted you belayed happy birthday.
"Okay! Let's get drunk!"
>>
"I DON'T WANNA BE SINGLE ANYMORE! I DON'T CARE ANYMORE ON WHAT TYPE OF MAN YOU GIVE ME GOD!"
Your friends bursted out to laughter after hearing what you scream, you guys are currently sitting by the riverbank enjoying the drinks and foods they brought with them. You all catch up to each other's lives and it didn't matter if you guys barely texted to each other because at the end of day, all of you will find it's way to each other and will always end up sitting together and talk about how's everyones life.
You guys drink and talk for 2 hours before deciding it is time go home, they all walk you back to your apartment since you were the one who is very wasted. They wanted to walk you towards your apartment door but you ushered them to just go home already. Since you didn't wanna bother them any longer plus you didn't want to let them see how mess your home currently is.
On the other hand, Osamu manage to knock some sense on his twin and Atsumu found himself standing by your home's door. When he was about to knock, he heard steps at his right side and when he saw you, he took a step back
"Atsumu? Hmm can't be him. Who are you?"
You walk up closer to him but you're too drunk to see clearly, Atsumu caught on the smell of alcohol and he curses when you stumbled on your feet and landed on his chest.
"Why did you drink so much? You can't hold your liquor that well."
"Hahahaha right! You can't be Atsumu, that man hates me. He don't care a thing about me."
You said with your eyelids half close and slowly inhaling his scent and somehow it brings you comfort. Atsumu couldn't say a word as he search for your pockets, when he got your keys he inserted to your door and open it.
He tried waking you up so he could help you walk inside but you didn't budge. Atsumu ended up carrying you into his arms and when he step inside your home, he notice how you toss the MSBY jacket on the side. Several cans of beer lying on the floor, trash that weren't taken out. A total mess.
"Atsumu why.... why do you hate me?"
He look down at you and couldn't help but lean down and kiss you on the forehead
"I don't hate you. I like you."
¤¤
You woke up with a major headache and it got worse when you scan your home and see that it's very clean. You don't even remember how you got home, maybe one of your friends clean your home for you. You gotta thank them some time.
Today, you decided to go back to work since you can't keep on being like this. You hurriedly took a bath and just slip on anything comfortable. That's right, this heavy feeling will eventually pass. Right now, you gotta focus on getting yourself live! Before you can leave, you decided to just sneak and watch them in secret. Your heart and mind is still not ready to face them, or him.
"Nice kill!"
"High five!"
Smiling Atsumu. What a rare sight and sore for your eyes, he is smiling but not towards your way. You aren't the reason why his smiling..
"Hng!"
You slap both of your cheeks stopping yourself to think anything further, this is a small step you are taking in order for you to let go of your feelings to him. You resume watching them play in two vs two although you don't know the other people on the court. They all look like they are close, maybe highschool friends.
You grab your phone to look at the message that just pop and it's Shoyo texting that the team misses you and it'd be nice if you come so you will meet his seniors and other friends. During these days Shoyo and the others keeps on texting you, even Kiyoomi who you took as someone who really don't care of his surroundings.
'I will try.'
You hit send and as soon your message was delivered you heard someone scream from the court, you're glad they can't see you from this seat since you decided to take a seat on the second floor row seats.
"She's coming! Finally! She's comingg!"
"Eh? Who's coming?"
"Our manager!"
They gathered around Shoyo and saw your reply, all of them keeps on texting you but you only replied to Shoyo. Atsumu grip the ball that is on his hand, remembering he stayed in your hour for an hour after he was done cleaning. Since it was only the time he could admire your face from a closer look.
Your debating whether you should go down or not but seeing the expression of the team being excited of you coming back, you just have to thicken your face and hope your gaze won't meet Atsumu's. On your way down, you notice people coming so you took a turn to the right but you ended up bumping to someone.
"Ow... I'm sorry!"
"It's my fault, I was on my phone."
You look up and the both of you have same expression
"Sachiro?!"
"Ms. Birdie!"
You quickly smack him on the shoulders and he laugh loudly, you can't believe he still remembers that nickname he gave you.
"Can you please forget about that?! It's the most embarassing moment of my life!"
"Ehhh? But remembering your devastated face is quite fun."
Well, who wouldn't be devastated when the pet bird you just bought from a pet store flew away from the cage just because it wasn't lock securely and he just happen to be passing by and witness it all.
"Sachiro!"
"Okay okay! Pfft-"
You rolled your eyes but you soon join him to laughing and when you both calm down, you decided to ask why his here
"Oh my friend invited me. He plays for Adlers but today they all got the gym for themselves and all the team we all fought during highschool are here."
So that's why there's so many people! You also notice the twin of Atsumu standing on the side while talking to some people.
"What about you?" He ask
"Oh... I'm actually the manager of MSBY and I was just sneaking around since something happened and uh..."
You look away and Sachiro is quick to sense that something is going on but he decided not to pry further.
"That's nice! Are you leaving or going in there?"
"Oh uhm... I'm going."
Sachiro smiled and you both walk towards the entrance of the court and your heart began to pound very loud that you unconsciously grab on to his jacket, when the both of you immerge from the entrance. Instantly eyes are on you or maybe on your hands grabbing tightly on his jacket.
"Sachiro! Why are you with the manager of the jackals?"
"We're friends and we bump to each other."
Korai ask then his eyes darted on the hands of the woman trembling while grabbing a good hold of his friend's coat. Shoyo manage to let him in on what happened to the jackals lately and he turn his attention to the jackals setter and oh boy the ball is near to exploding.
"Are you that nervous?"
Sachiro turn slightly to lean down and whisper to your ears
"Huh?! I-I'm not! Hey everyone!"
Your hands let go of his coat and ran towards where your team is and Shoyo is the first one to jump at you and hug your frame tight until it led to a group hug. Then, Shoyo began to introduce you to the other people and you met his seniors and the other players. Some of them have drop playing voleyball upon graduating from highschool and some didn't.
"Heya~ you're the only who haven't tasted my new recipe."
"Osamu!"
The black haired man grin and handed you his newly made onigiri, you can say that you're close to him since the team sometimes eats on his restaurant here in Tokyo.
"Oh my! This is yummy!"
"Heh- then I'll add this to my menu. Oh, you got something in your face..."
You were about to get it but he beat you to it as he took it with a swipe using his thumb and your cheeks turn red seeing how he lick his thumb.
"Osa- What the fuck is your deal?"
Atsumu came infront of you and push his twin away from you and several people immediately hold Atsumu back and Osamu ignored his twin as he look at you
"You should just forget this stupid asshole and get it with me."
Before you can even say something Atsumu was already screaming his twin's name and was about to punch but Osamu is quick to dodge it as he ran away laughing.
"You. Come here."
Atsumu said as soon he return from chasing his brother, he tug on your hand and led you at the locker room. What even happened? You ask yourself. Why are you alone with him in this room? Should you say sorry for slapping him? But why would you? Wh-
"Everytime I land my gaze at you, you're with a man. What's with you pulling men from left to right?"
Your eyebrow raises and you immediately meet his eyes
"Are you telling me that I'm a slut?"
"What?! How did you- fuck!"
"Don't curse at me! I get it. You're mad because I slap you. Well, I'm sorry! But you're still an asshole!"
Atsumu groan as he pace back and forth trying to come up with the best words he can. Osamu, that idiot just had to add fuel to his jealousy. Why is he so jealous?! Why?!
"Why do I like you so much?!"
"What..."
Your breath hitches when he suddenly look at you and immediately his right in front of you. Your back press agaisnt the door with his right arm place right above your head
"What did you do to me? How come I like you so much that it irritated me so much not being the first one to give you something during valentines."
His minty breath fans your face as he reach for your hair and starts to play with it, being this close to you is making him go crazy, he can't even think straight.
"I like you so much that I hate how you smiled brightly towards Bokuto and how his the one who gets to bask on your warmth."
He place his right hand on your cheeks and you are looking straight on to his eyes, he leans down and you swear to God that your heart is about to burst out from your ribcage
"I like you so much that seeing other men touching you is making me go crazy.."
His lips hovers over yours and you were the one to close the gap. Maybe you are crazy. Maybe you like him so much too that you lost all the right to think straight.
"Shit"
Atsumu's arms immediately wrap around your waist and press your body more towards his. He lick your lower lip and you immediately let his tongue in, you moan out through the kiss and Atsumu almost punch the door.
"I need to breath.."
"More.."
He claim your lips again and you hold on to him for a support, his fingers running through your hair as he kisses you deep and full of love. He didn't even notice his tears streaming down to his cheeks. You immediately pulled away and cup his cheeks
"Why are you crying?!"
"I like- no, I love you. Please, I love you so much. I'm sorry... I'm sorry for being a dickhead to you. I'm sorry for being an asshole."
"Atsumu..."
He place one hand over yours as he kiss your palms then it trails down towards your wrist and he looks at you, with teary eyes
"I'm sorry. Please forgive me? Hm? I will do my best to change. Just... just let me love you."
Now, it's your turn to cry and you punch him on the chest as you sob uncontrollably. He let you punch him and when you stop he hug you tight, burying his face on the crook of your neck
"Idiot. You're an idiot! Why weren't you honest from the start?! Do you know how hard it is for me to endure with the thought of the person I like, hates me? You're an idiot!"
"I know, I know. I'm sorry.. it's just... I didn't know any better. You... you were just so amazing. You were always there for us, supporting us. That I started to doubt that if I would be like that too. Be there for you, support you through your decisions. I... I got scared that if I let you know how I feel, you would distance yourself to me.."
So that's why you sometimes catches him glancing from you but you really didn't pay any attention to it.
"I'm just a manager. It is my duty to keep the teams spirit."
"You're more than that! During our darkest moment in court, you always manage to cheer us up. Your inspiring words are one of the reasons that keeps us winning our fights."
He grab a hold of your hand and kiss your knuckles as he looks at you
"You're my world... you are my light. I love you. Can I be your lover?"
You look at him with mix emotions and you ended up laughing with tears, guess you can call this a tears of joy now.
"Very cheesy isn't like you Tsumu."
His smile widen and engulf you to a tight hug. He pulled away and cup your cheeks as he capture your lips to kiss you tenderly. He press his forehead to yours and the both of you are smiling, he kiss your nose and you both giggled
"Let's go? The others must be worried."
You nodded and the both of you walk out of the room hand in hand and you notice how silent the court is
"Did they left?" You ask and squeeze his hand, seeing the lights on the court were turn off
"I think? Let me check my pho- Congratsulations!"
All the lights turn on at the same time and when your eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, you saw a banner stating
'Congrats on not being a coward anymore Atsumu!'
Your gaze drops on his arm that is wrap around your shoulders making you stand close to him
"Ah to be young..."
Meian wipe the single tear on his eyes, he saw you on the second floor and knew right away that this love chase has to end. So he ask Shoyo to text you convincing you to come, he knows you will. He also ask Korai to have his friend approach you. Lucky, he says since you and Sachiro had some connection. Then when he notice Atsumu glaring daggers towards your direction, he got Atsumu's twin on his plan and that's how it went.
"What the hell! You guys were evesdropping!!"
"Please forgive me hm?"
Osamu said mockingly and Atsumu started to chase him again and you just stand there laughing. Hearing you laugh is enough to make Atsumu feel things, he went back to you and kiss you infront of all the people and it did shut you up. He embrace you with one arm and look at the people, grinning from ear to ear.
"Atsumu Miya is officially taken."
¤¤¤
You were woken up when you felt something wrap around your waist, slowly your eyes flutter open and was greeted by a snoring Atsumu. A soft smile grace your lips, fingers lightly stroking his face. It has been five months now ever since you guys started dating. He also successfully persuaded you on moving to his house here in Tokyo. A lot has happened ever since you guys started dating, you are still their manager but Atsumu is thinking taking a break from voleyball. He reasons that he wants to start planning for your guys future.
"G'morning babe..."
"Mornin' Tsumu."
You kiss him on the lips and he smiled and pulls you even closer, today he got a day off and it means he doesn't have to participate to the practice. You were also given a day off so he suggested you guys go on a date today.
"Where do you want to go?" You ask, your fingers now playing on his hair
"Anywhere as long as I'm with you."
He replied and it made you feel butterflies in your stomach. You pinch him and he laugh at your reaction, he will never get tired of seeing your flustered face.
"Be seirous!"
"I am serious, as long as I'm with you anywhere is fine."
He moved and now his on top of you and you felt his fingers rubbing circles on your thighs, he leans down and lick the mark he made last night. You let out a whimper, his hand moving slowly to where he kept on touching you last night also.
"Again? We were on it till 3am..."
"Promise, We'll get up after."
He said but you know better than to trust his words but you just let him. You love it anyways.
The end.
158 notes · View notes
ja3mln · 8 months
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nct dream & their love language
cw: fluff, very slight smut (jeno, hc, jaemin & jisung), overall it's gn but use of the word "girl" in the dialogues (renjun & jaemin), also mention of period (mark & chenle), quick mention of food/eating (mark, chenle & jisung)
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mark; quality time & act of service
mark loves spending time with you. his favorite moments are when you come to the studio and keep him company, even if you're just sitting here and watching him making music and helping him or doing your own stuff. loves taking you on improvised date like you're chilling and he will suddenly ask 'wanna go on a date?' at the most random times of the day. loves late night dates in the park or just walking in the dark streets and have late night talks. loves when you both are just chilling on your bed and you help him found the lyrics for his next song and you end up making out, mark stopping from time to time to write lyrics he just thought about; "damn we should make out more, i've never been so inspired". this man just loves being with you, whatever you're doing. mark is someone you can always count on when you need something. actually, you don't even have to ask, he will always make sure you have everything you need: he always brings something to eat when he comes over, when you text him about something you need to get later or something you need to do, he will always try to do it for you, sometimes without even telling you and be like: 'oh by the way, i got you those tampons you needed', like it's the most normal thing to do. he loves to cook for you when you had a long day or you're just too lazy, he always makes sure you're eating and resting well.
renjun: quality time & words of affirmation
renjun always feels the need to touch you, whether it's when you're out or just the two of you. when you're out, he always holds your hand or has one of his hands on your back to keep you close. he always needs to feel you besides him and make sure you're safe. when you two are alone, he loves when you play with his hand or his hair, or when you both cuddle and have small talks. he just loves quiet moments with you, when he gets to hear only your voice and your breath, and nothing else. renjun is kind of shy when it comes to expressing his feelings, but when it's about you, he just can't help but tell you how much he loves you and that he's happy to have you. he loves reminding you, and himself, that he's the luckiest to have you, saying things like, "i'm so glad to have you in my life" and "you're the prettiest girl i've ever seen". even though renjun is the type to enjoy stay-in dates, he loves going out with you but in quiet places like small coffee shops or flower gardens where he gets to hold your hand, have small talks with you, and even share small kisses. he just loves being in his small bubble with you.
haechan; physical touch & quality time
this man is obsessed with you (in a good way) and is going to let you know every time he has the chance to. he always has his hands on you, it could be his hand holding yours or his arm on your waist to keep you close. he loves playing with your hair; it becomes automatic when you're chilling together or watching a movie, his hand will automatically find a way to your hair. he loooooves spending time with you. he would text you every day to ask if you can come over to watch a movie or to play video games, or even just lay in his bed and chill. also, he loves when you sleep over. he loves going out with you, anywhere, anytime: to the arcade, to the park, to the grocery, and even clubbing; he loves partying with you. but his favorite moments are when you both chill on the bed, listen to your favorite songs, and talk about anything. sex with haechan is full of touching, all over your body; he just makes sure he leaves his touch on every single inch of your skin. he also loves the effect his hands have on you and will take advantage of it to drive you crazy.
jeno; physical touch & words of affirmation
jeno always needs to make sure you're feeling loved. he doesn't miss any chance to let you know that you're loved and to compliment you about small details that no one notices but him: "oh, this little mole is so cute," "is that a new set of nails? i love it, baby," "did you change the shade of your blush? it looks good on you." jeno is really comfortable with showing affection in public, so he won't hesitate to steal small kisses from you, hold your hand, or stop while you're walking to pull you by the waist and remind you how good you look today. he stares at you a lot. like a lot. he would get lost in his own thoughts and end up apologizing because he didn't even listen to what you were saying: "sorry, baby. it's so hard to concentrate when you look this beautiful," and will kiss you. when you two are alone, jeno gets even more clingy and can't take his hands off you. he loves getting you on his lap and making out for hours, praising you as much as he can. sex with jeno is something you've never experienced before, how can he make you feel so loved and good while fucking you so roughly? he loves rough sex but also soft sex where he gets to touch you gently and whispers sweet words to you (he does during rough sex too but it's another kind of sweet words lmao): "i could watch you take my cock for hours", "you're the best, baby. you're doing so good", "fuck, i love you so fucking much".
jaemin; physical touch & words of affirmation
one thing about this man is that he's always going to make sure you feel loved. he always makes sure he tells you how beautiful you are every day and how much he loves you: "i love you, okay? i'm so lucky to have this beautiful girl just for me." he needs more than words to give you the love you deserve, though, so he won't hesitate to cup your face and look at you with the softest eyes ever when he says those words and kiss you passionately. he loves praising you whenever you've accomplished the smallest things; he always needs to make sure you know how proud he is of you. he calls you every day (when you can't hang out) to remind you that he loves you and that he misses kissing you. talking about kisses, his kisses would be the sweetest you've ever had. kissing jaemin feels like heaven, and that's exactly how he wants you to feel. he would whisper sweet words between the kisses: "i'm so in love with you," "i could kiss you for hours," "i never want to stop looking at you.". when it comes to sex, whether it's rough or soft sex, jaemin will always make sure you're okay and that you're feeling good. his touch would be so gentle and he would praise you everytime he finds the chance to: "so beautiful with my cock in your mouth, baby", "good girl, you're doing so good", "be patient, angel. let me make you feel good".
chenle; quality time & act of service
chenle is a bit shy when it comes to physical touch, so he would do his best to show his love in any other way. his love language is a lot of teasing and playful interactions, so when it comes to really showing his feelings, he gets shy. he always tries to spend time with you whenever he can; he would always ask you to hang out as soon as he's free. he wants to make sure that you feel loved even if he rarely tells you how much he loves you. he loves dates that involve fun activities like the arcade, escape games, or mini-golf, but also dates where he gets to talk with you for hours, like when you eat together. he always makes sure you have everything you need; he always insists on cooking for you and going to the grocery when you're tired and need something. when you're on your period, you can always count on him to take care of you. when you two are alone, chenle gets more comfortable with physical touch and would cuddle you or play with your hair while you watch random videos, laying on the bed together. he tries to imprint every moment spent with you in his brain and make it special for him but also for you.
jisung; quality time & physical touch
when you start dating jisung, there weren't a lot of physical touch: small kisses here and there, shyly holding hands or him putting his arm around you, but nothing too physical. but once he got comfortable, he couldn't keep his hands for himself when he's with you, he always needs to feel your skin on his, even if it's just your two tights brushing or his hand on your tight. he just needs to feel you here with him. when you two are in public, he tries to be more discreet, holding your hand or letting you put your arm around his while you're walking. but once you're alone, he gets very clingy and always tries to hold you as close as possible. he loves making out with you but not too much because he likes to stare at you a lot, so he prefers when you two are just chilling together, and he gets to watch you and play with your fingers or your hair. he loves taking you on arcade and amusement park dates. he just likes having fun with you so much. he's obsessed with night dates too, like in the middle of the night when the two of you are chilling, he would just suddenly ask if you want to get ramen or if you want to go for a walk. he loves walking at night with you, holding your hand, and he gets to steal long and sweet kisses because there's only the two of us in the streets. jisung gets more shy when it comes to sex, though. he's very hesitant and gentle because he's just scared to make a bad move and hurt you or make you uncomfortable. but at the end, his touch always makes you feel loved and safe.
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978 notes · View notes
elliesflower · 1 year
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i hate u [2]
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pt 1 here
word count; 4.2k (don't ask)
cw; angst, top!abby, bottom!r, fingering (r!receiving), dirty talk, crying
an; hiiii, i need this woman in my bed expeditiously. originally i was gonna make abby a switch in this but then it got too long lmao anyways, enjoy! (and find it on ao3 here)
18+ only, mdni!!!!
kissing abby was nothing like you had imagined—not that you’d imagined kissing her, ever, but it was quite possibly the only feeling that has ever mattered. the unmistakable sound of your lips smacking together was utterly indecent in the quiet of your bedroom, much louder than the ever-present hum of the stadium’s generators.
but she was eager, too eager. you both were, all the years spent avoiding each other, and you could have had this? her hand was sliding down, lightly pulling at the soft hairs at the back of your neck. you gasped, the sensation lighting you on fire, panting into her mouth, you couldn’t help it, you were whining, “abby,” and it was barely a whisper but she heard you—peppering kisses to your top lip, the corner of your mouth, your cheek, down to your jaw, she was nodding in agreement. 
“m’ sorry,” she mumbled into your neck, and you shivered, your body instinctively pressing into hers. her hand came around to rest at your lower back and she pressed you closer still, continuing her exploration of your skin. 
“you said that already,” you breathed, leaning your head back and closing your eyes, because there was no way this was happening, right? you’d wake up tomorrow and be alone in your bed, and this will be nothing more than a passing thought, an insane dream to add to the tally. but it was like abby could read your mind, she was desperate to make you feel just how real this really was, snaking her hand further around your middle so that she was nearly lifting you off the ground. 
your hands flew out to find purchase on her shoulders, nails making crescent indents in her freckled skin. “still sorry,” she said again, punctuating it with a wet kiss to your cheek, before pressing her forehead into yours. she felt sticky with perspiration, her breath was jagged and slow as she squeezed her eyes closed. god, it was impossible to tell what she was thinking as you watched her, your heavy breathing matching hers while you stood there in the middle of your room. in the middle of abby. in the middle of every fucked up thing the two of you have ever said to each other and oh, was it supposed to be this hard?
“do you forgive me?” she asked suddenly, and her eyes opened. you stared at her, feeling her breath fan across your face, your lips tingling almost as much as your brain.
do you forgive her?
you do, you think—but how could you let it come out like this? pressed against her, the weight of her hands at your back making you squirm, your heart and your head and your stomach were all telling you a different lie and you didn’t know who to believe. so you said nothing instead, ignoring the stinging behind your eyes and feverishly pressing your lips against hers once again. 
she tasted sort of like mint, a little bit like guilt, but also like your favorite flavor. she relinquished her hold on your back, moving her hands to rest at your hips, thumbs tracing circles on the delicate skin there—it made you shiver, made you gasp once more into her mouth, and she used your surprise to guide you backwards, walking you to what you could only assume was your bed, messy and unmade from the morning. 
“do you forgive me?” she was asking again, between kisses, between gently helping you lower onto the bed, between a rock and a hard place. you felt like crying, you felt like saying yes, you felt like letting her take you apart, to hell and back, and it sure felt like you’d never needed anything more than you needed her in this exact moment. 
you nodded as abby pulled away, you couldn’t say it out loud, and her lips were glistening and swollen, parted slightly as she sat down on the bed next to you. her braid was messy, baby hairs sticking to her forehead as she leaned toward you. you crossed your legs on the bed, facing her, and swallowed hard, your body fueled with anticipation, with lust, with the filthy thoughts that you couldn’t shake from your mind—not when she was looking at you like…that.
“do you, though?” she asked, placing a hand on your cheek, thumb swiping away a tear you hadn’t even noticed. you nodded fervently, hand reaching up to grab her forearm, holding it in place. “i need to hear you say it.”
you had to close your eyes again, you couldn’t dare to look her in the eye, god, this was embarrassing—she forgave you. just like that. why is it so hard for you? she moved her hand so that it was pinching your chin lightly, tilting your head up so that you’d have to look at her. 
not fair. 
you blinked up at her through your wet lashes, and her thumb reached up to gently pull at your bottom lip, instantly sending heat pooling in your core. you tried not to show it on your face, but abby was searching, fighting to get an answer out of you. 
“i won’t do this with you if you don’t talk to me,” her tone was gentle, but you still felt restless. you were amped up, from the fighting, the tears, the anger, the desire. somehow the feelings were identical—love and hate. the only difference was the circumstance. 
“do what with me?” there went your mouth again, moving before you could think. abby almost smiled, the corner of her mouth twitching ever-so-slightly. her eyes flickered down to your mouth, and then back, and her thumb pressed slightly harder into your lip, prying it open.
“don’t play dumb,” she said, and now, she did smile—but it didn’t seem so nice this time.
“i want this,” you couldn’t help it, you were reaching for her again, grabbing her hand and pulling it into your lap. you intertwined your fingers, looking down at your joined hands, and it didn’t feel real. “i want you.” but you couldn’t look at her still, playing with her hand in yours, heartbeat practically ringing in your ears. 
“yeah?” abby scooted closer to you, slipping her hand out of your grasp, and you looked at her again, eyes dark and full of lust. she leaned down to slip off her own boots, and you took a deep breath, nodding when she looked back up at you. you did want this. you wanted her, in any way she would have you, in any way you could possibly get.
“i forgive you,” you decided, and this time, it was with certainty. your voice unwavering, your eyes clear, your heart full, and that set something in abby on fire. for a split second, her nostrils flared, and then she was on you in an instant, taking you by surprise when she clamored onto the bed, pressing your shoulders back so that you landed on the mattress with a soft grunt. she held herself up with one arm, staring down at you, and you suddenly felt vulnerable all over again, squirming under the scrutiny of her piercing gaze. her face was mere inches away from your own, and you stopped to admire her for a moment, in a way you could never before. sure, you’d looked at her before, but you’ve never really looked at her—not like this.
her pupils were dilated, yet her face held an unusual gentleness. freckles littered her skin like constellations, and you wanted to map them all, wanted to feel her, all of her, so you started to, reaching up and pressing a hand to her face, just like she’d done to you. all her walls were gone, unrestrained, and there was no mistaking her heavy lids and flushed skin for anything other than salacity. the thought alone of what was to come had you pressing your thighs together, once again wondering how she managed to do so much to you without ever saying a single word. 
“you sure about that?” the blonde asked suddenly, her breath ghosting over your face as she spoke. you almost rolled your eyes out of habit, but settled for a scoff instead. of course she knew you were sure—she just couldn’t help herself, could she?
“if you expect me to grovel, you’re kindly mistaken,” you quipped, dropping your hand. 
“last i checked, i kinda feel like i have the upper hand, here,” abby smirked, one of her knees slotting between your legs, and you actually gasped, that motherfucker. the pressure against your core was delicious, albeit there were a few too many layers of clothing in the way. you tried not to let the pleasure show on your face, determined that she couldn’t break you—not now, not after all the time you’ve had to spend proving yourself to her. 
“fuck you, abby,” you said, but this time, you didn’t mean it. and she knew that, smirking down at you as she shifted her leg up higher, silencing what would have been an absolutely embarrassing moan with a kiss. 
it was almost like she couldn’t control herself. she was greedy now, all tongue and teeth, her mouth incessant and wet, saliva connecting your mouths each time she pulled away briefly to allow you to breathe—not that you needed any breath, really you thought you’d be fine if you never breathed on your own again. you wanted her breath, you wanted her—couldn’t help the grinding of your clothed pussy over the expanse of her muscular thigh, couldn’t help the whisper of jesus, fuck- that spilled from your lips when she began to trail her tongue down your neck, to your chest, all the way down until she was lifting your shirt up, helping you wrangle it off, and pressing her mouth onto the bare skin just above your navel.
you looked down at her just as she darted her tongue out to lap gently at your stomach, and you swore you could have cried right then and there, reaching your hand out to grip her hair as you arched into her touch, a shiver shooting down your spine at the ticklish sensation. 
“god, do you ever take out this stupid braid?” you hissed as your fingers got caught in one of the plats, and she had the nerve to laugh, pressing another kiss to your middle before sitting up on her knees, leaving you needy and exposed below her, your nipples hardening against the cool air in the room.
“aw, someone been fantasizing about me with my hair down?” she taunted, but she got the hint, because she took out her hair-tie regardless, sliding it down to her wrist. 
“fuck off,” you retorted, though your body flooded hot at the mockery, partially because yes, she was right, you sometimes did wonder about what she looked like with her hair down—not sure if you’d call that, fantasizing, though—and mostly because abby had always taunted you, fucked around with you, frustrated you to the point of tears, but never in a sexual way. and the thought both terrified and excited you as you envisioned what was to come.
it didn’t really matter right now though, you thought as you sat up on your elbows, because she was undoing her braid, the wavy, golden locks cascading down her shoulders once freed, and you choked back yet another moan at the sight.
“abby…” you breathed, sitting up farther so that you could touch it. the moment had gone soft, like her hair, it was so soft, and smelled like coconut, fuck how have you never seen her with her hair down, after all these years? she was smiling, but you could see the faint blush that was creeping up her neck under your gaze. 
“is my hair down a turn-on for you?”
yes. you swallowed. 
“no.”
she laughed, and you had to fight your own grin, twisting a strand of her hair around your finger. “shut up,” you grumbled, sitting up on your knees to match her, pressing your hands against her chest softly, playing with the neckline of her shirt. you felt her muscles tense under your touch as she gazed down at you, and you were suddenly aware of just how much…larger she was than you. the thought made you shiver, and you were once again aware of the wetness between your legs. 
“can i take this off?” you asked, voice coming out quiet and shy. abby nodded, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. you took a breath, reaching down to help her pull it off, and you could have fainted at the sight. you knew she was built, but fuck. you couldn’t help but reach out and touch her skin, trailing your fingers from the band of her thin white bra down to her navel. 
“bet you’ve been waiting for this, huh?” she asked, abs flexing slightly under the touch of your hand, and no matter how badly you wanted to make some sarcastic comment back, you felt like a person possessed, nodding with enthusiasm, impure thoughts flooding your brain—but another “shut up,” was all you could manage, breathless and benevolent, wanting to feel more of her. 
“should have known,” she spoke lowly now, her tone just this side of nice, “all that teasing, all those mean comments,” she said, and your stomach twisted in anticipation as her eyes narrowed. god, she was looking at you like you were a piece of meat, and no, that shouldn’t have been turning you on even more, but oh, she was guiding you back down to the mattress before fumbling with the button of your jeans. 
“it was just frustration,” abby said, her tone suddenly casual for the extremely sensual way she was undoing your pants.
“the fuck are you talking about, anderson?” you griped, reaching down to help her pull your pants all the way off, and you became acutely aware of how your excitement had seeped through your panties, the sudden rush of air against them making you shiver. 
“i’m saying, i get it now,” she continued, using her big hands to spread your thighs apart, rubbing circles into your skin with her thumbs, observing you. “you were just frustrated over what you couldn’t have.”
“are you fucking kidding m-”
but there was no time to retort, no time to do much of anything before she was pressing a thumb to your thinly veiled clit, causing you to cry out in shock. you couldn’t look at her, you had to throw your head back onto the pillow and cover your eyes in shame, legs closing around her arm instinctively.
“ah ah,” she reprimanded, using a hand to spread your legs back apart, and fuck, she was strong. not that it would have taken much convincing, anyways. “let me see.” her thumb pressed against your sensitive core, making a dull ache in your stomach, making you gasp and moan under her touch. 
“yeah that’s it,” she rasped, and you swear in that moment you were seeing stars, fucking shameful, isn’t it? that she had barely even started to touch you and you were practically gone already. so much for not breaking. “i know this is what you’ve been wanting. what you’ve been needing…”
“abby, please,” please what, you weren’t sure. please stop talking, please keep talking, please don’t fucking stop, and you’d blame it on the desire, the ache to be touched, anything to admit you weren’t coming undone this quickly under her teasing rhythm. 
“such good manners, where have those been?” she was fucking mocking you now, abruptly stopping her ministrations in favor of grabbing the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down with such ease you were worried for a moment they might rip. 
“fuck you,” you managed, and it just didn’t have that same weight to it anymore—not when abby had you like this, naked and breathless and sweaty below her. she smiled at you, and it was wicked, eyes dark and hair wild around her face.
“why don’t you show me some more of those good manners,” she said, eyes transfixed on the wetness between your legs, pushing your thighs apart lightly. “open up.”
somehow, your legs were spreading almost like she’d cast some sort of spell on you, her words going straight to your head and taking over your body, doing anything to make her get closer, to make her touch you, to fuck you. 
“tell me you want this,” her voice was quiet and serious, the sound of it scrambling your brain--her fingers, dancing across your skin, from your hips, to your thighs, squeezing gently at the soft flesh as she locked eyes with you. 
“you gonna make me beg?” you questioned, inhaling sharply at her touch.
“never said that,” she shrugged, abruptly moving her hand and running her index finger down your slit, and it was nearly disgraceful how easily her finger glided, coated with your slick—you gasped at the sensation, gripping the bedsheets in your fists. “just wanna hear you say it.”
“you’re insufferable,” you groaned, closing your eyes as she began stroking her finger agonizingly slowly between your folds, and god you could fucking hear how wet you were. it would have been embarrassing, and perhaps, it was a little bit--but she didn’t need to know that thought was turning you on even more.
“guess i don’t really need to hear it,” abby continued. “i can just tell by how fucking wet you are.” it was like she was in your brain, somehow, your hips were bucking into her touch and shying away at the same time. you looked down your body at her and watched the way she looked at you, with such hunger and intensity, and it took everything in you to hold back, to force yourself to stay away from the edge—no way you’d let her have that satisfaction. 
“still’d be nice,” she pressed on, dipping her finger just slightly into your pussy, drawing a moan from your throat, which you quickly muffled with the back of your hand. 
“abby,” you whispered against your hand, trying to move your hips just so that her finger would slide in--it probably would, you were so fucking eager, and she knew it too, the way she watched your face twist in pleasure, your mouth falling open as she teased your entrance. you chanced a look down at her, and her lips were painted with that smug fucking smirk. 
“you fucking asshole,” you whined when you realized she was serious. “abby, i swear to god-” you were quickly cut off, practically choking on your words as she slid a thick finger inside, curling it just right so that she could pull out of your dripping cunt with an obscene squelching noise.
“what happened to your manners?” she questioned, withdrawing her fingers completely, cocking her head to the side. “c’mon, lemme hear it,” and you were writhing on the bed, heart racing, your breathing labored, stomach twisting in knots, sweat making the bed sheets stick to your backside.
“abby,” you spoke her name, for maybe the hundredth time that night, but you couldn’t help it. fell off your lips like a prayer, tears welling in your eyes as you gazed up at her strong frame, towering over you in the bed. you were at her mercy, whether you liked it or not--but you really did like it, maybe even loved it, your thighs sticky with your juices as you pressed your knees together, desperate for any kind of pressure after she pulled away. 
“it’s just three little words,” abby pressed, smoothing her hands up the expanse of your thighs before dipping her thumb back in between the heat of your legs, the pressure against your sensitive bud making you gasp and open up to allow her better access. “i wanna make you feel good. don’t you want that?” it was accentuated with a languid stroke of her thumb, heavy and demanding, and there was no getting out of this--she had a direct line to your brain, flipping a switch with her touch and making you desperate, making your back arch as you tried to hold on to reality, but it was no use. you wanted her, so badly, too badly, you were breaking and fucking- christ abby, your fingers, you were babbling, practically incoherent, but you wanted her to fuck me, please, i-i want it, please, 
“that’s it, that’s what i thought,” two fingers were slipping inside you with such ease that you felt mortified for a moment, before you were seeing stars, groans and grunts and unintelligible words being fucked out of you. abby’s fingers moved inside you expertly, like she knew you already, and did she just fucking moan? “fucking filthy, god-” she was leaning over you now, hair falling around her face so that it just tickled your belly as she fucked you, taking you apart. her eyes were ablaze, cheeks red as she panted above you, getting off to just the feeling, you couldn’t look at her, your stomach was tightening and oh no, no, no, she’d barely started--your hole was tightening around her fingers, making the drag of her fingers just that much better, or worse, or something else all together. 
“god, you’re fucking tight,” abby groaned as she sped up her fingers, “fucking made for my fingers, taking them so good,” the palm of her hand tapping against your swollen clit with each stroke. you were gone, too gone, but not gone enough to know you were fight fucking there, 
“abby, don’t stop, don’tyoufuckingdarestop,” it was pathetic, really--the tears streaming down your face, the way your hand flew out to grip her wrist, pinning her in place as you felt the world disappearing from your mind, m’gonna- fucking cum, your mouth falling open as you locked eyes with her, watching her arm flex as she brought you to your peak and oh--
the world went white for a moment, but you could feel it at the same time, could feel the way your pussy absolutely drenched abby’s hand, could feel the way she stroked you through it, murmuring praises as she pressed against that sensitive spot, causing your hips to stutter as you came down. 
abby pulled her fingers out of you slowly, and you whimpered, suddenly overcome with a strong feeling of emptiness--both physically and mentally. your breathing was shaky and prominent, brain foggy and body spent. you felt the bed shifting and looked down to see abby with a soft smile on her face, wiping your wetness off onto her pant leg. you quickly averted your eyes, closing them as you pressed your fingertips to your temples, trying to force back whatever emotion was bubbling up at literally the most inconvenient time. 
“hey, what’s going on?” abby’s voice was riddled with concern, and you felt her slide up the bed next to you, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off her body, her breathing matching yours. you shook your head bashfully, refusing to look at her. there were ten million thoughts running through your mind, but the main one being:
i just let abigail anderson fuck me. 
“m’sorry,” you were apologizing, though you didn’t even know what for, for crying? for ruining the moment? 
“sorry for what?” she was pressing, a hand coming to tug at your wrist. “hey, look at me, please,” there was an edge to her voice, almost desperate. you drew a deep breath, wiping away your tears and turning your head toward her. her eyes were full of worry, brow creased slightly as she watched your face. you looked at her for a moment longer before you couldn’t anymore, diving into her neck, pressing your body against hers with fervor. her skin was hot and sticky with perspiration, her heart beating wildly against your face as you pressed it against her, snaking an arm around her middle.
“this changes everything,” you whispered, almost scared to admit it to yourself. she rubbed a warm hand up and down the bare skin of your back soothingly, but you weren’t expecting the laugh that rumbled from her chest. 
“well, i would sure hope so.”
you pulled back slightly, glaring at her as best as you could with eyes full of tears and your bottom lip quivering. 
“listen,” she smiled softly at you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “of course this changes everything. but doesn’t it change it for the better?” she asked. “unless you’re trying to tell me i’m a terrible lay,” and you had to laugh, pleasantly subdued, for the moment.
“it is for the better,” you mumbled, trying to make your way back into her neck, but she kept you pinned where she would see your face.  
“then, what’s the problem?”
“change is hard,” you whispered, the tears stinging in your eyes again. this time, she let you back into her warmth, cradling an arm around your head as she stroked your hair gently. the room was on fire, abby’s scent overwhelming you as you felt her breath evening out. 
“i’ll make it easier.”
“how?” you asked, slightly muffled into her skin.
“i just…will.”
and somehow, it sounded like a promise.
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love-toxin · 10 months
Text
File 11 - Miguel O'Hara
plot: as much as it hurts, he knows you were meant to be together, even if you don't remember the man you once loved.
cws: miguel pov, fem!reader, atsv spoilers, smut mentions, interdimensional romance timelines, lovers -> strangers -> lovers, casual hookups, kids/pregnancy talk, angst + fluff, denial of feelings (man's got it so bad), mutual pining, character death mentions.
word count: 2.8k
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Every morning he wakes up without you is torture.
Plain and simple. Torture. Pure, unadulterated torture that cripples his heart each morning he cracks open his eyes and finds the place beside him empty. It's cold even on the hottest nights, bristling the back of his neck no matter how much he sweats in the long summers. It's always been terrible–ever since that day that you, your daughter, and his whole world ceased to exist, Miguel hasn't truly found peace even in passing moments. Eating his favourite meal from the commissary to finding a breakthrough in his plans for the spiderverse, it just doesn't feel right.
And while he'd long gotten used to that feeling, the dull ache has soared into a sting now that he faces you each day he comes into work.
It's not "you" per se–not his version of you–but the you that stands in front of him each and every morning has your face, your smile, your laugh, your cheeky sense of humour, everything. You have everything. Everything except a memory of him, even a shred of it, because as much as he wants you to see him and throw yourself into his embrace, you have no memory of him. You don't see him as a husband, a father, a friend, you see him as Miguel–not to say that you don't also consider him your savior, which you certainly do. He rescued you from a dying dimension that some other hero screwed up, and broke his own rules in doing so because he just couldn't watch you die twice. He still can't bear watching it replay in his mind every time he falls asleep, that first time when he truly wished he had just died alongside both of you to spare himself the pain. To spare himself from hearing your screams and your daughter's terrified sobs as his world disappeared from within his very arms.
Somewhere in the back of his head, he wonders if there was a Miguel in your own dimension. If you loved him or were destined to love him, but you never got the chance to live out your life together. Maybe he was just a normal guy. Not a hero, not a spiderman, not anyone. Just some average joe with a crush on someone he never imagined he could actually settle down and have a family with. Maybe there was–and maybe nothing ever happened because he just simply can't have anything good last in his life.
That's why, despite how heavy that ring feels on his left hand, and how much his heart aches at knowing that you're right there, Miguel goes to bed every night alone. In the beginning he rebuffed you, shut down any ounce of flirtation, didn't even take it when you made lighthearted jokes or someone else did in your place. He can't go through those losses again, but more importantly he can't put you through those losses again. That dimension was one thing, but what he's built here can't be replaced or broken down. He's mapped out the avenues and deduced that if he pursues you, he loses. So instead of allowing himself those simple pleasures of being close to you, he pushed you away so frequently he could tell it was starting to wear on you. You wondered if you even belonged in the society, your delicate self with nothing but a wristband that still didn't always keep you from glitching on occasion.
But that all changed just a few months ago. It's still burned into his brain, that first time–his muscles still itching for the feeling to meet them again. The feeling of you.
It hadn't hit him until then just how long it'd been since he'd taken care of those needs. He'd spent so many long nights with the company of no one, or the satisfaction of nothing but his hand, that the promise of being with a woman again both frightened and exhilarated him. But it wasn't just any woman, because he's well worn out that mat, it was you. You who might not have remembered him, but you remembered the way you two always made love because it came to you so naturally. You pleased him like it was a second skin, did it without even trying and when you did try it was nothing short of heavenly. You were and are godlike in every which way, your body so soft he worries he'll cut you on his own hard, jagged frame, yet so pliable it's second nature to press your knees back to your shoulders and pipe you like you're a pretty little milking cow and he's a raging bull in heat. There's been times he genuinely couldn't help himself and just gave in to his desires to breed you, his cock straining for your deepest, most vulnerable spots that you gladly gave up the moment he begged to knock you up. Yes, begged–he was at your mercy even in his rawest moments, and he wouldn't have it any other way. Even if the conversations afterward were awkward and filled with cheap laughter as you both sobered up from your lustful haze.
God, you felt so good. Every occasion is better than the last–every chance to feel you pressed against his skin is nothing short of a blessing.
"Mr. Miguel?"
His hand twitches at the interruption of his thoughts, his cup tipping off the desk but stopping with a quick shot of his webs–luckily for him his instincts are still rather crisp, or else he'd be making a mockery of himself in front of the very object of his desires and spilling water all over his floating monitors.
"Mh? Yes?" He turns his head, and there you are in all your radiant glory. Pen tucked behind your ear, outfit of the day clean and prim, eyes sparkling as they always do even when you look at him with concern. How precious. It's just a cup.
"O-Oh, sorry! Nice catch," You add rather hastily before holding out a stack of files, each one labeled and organized by name just as he asked you to do since you started. "Here's the paperwork for the newbies. Do you want it anywhere specific, Mr. Miguel?"
"Set it on the counter there, I'll have Parker look it over. Might busy him and May for awhile." He grumbles that last part under his breath, finally turning around completely from his screens and rolling out his shoulders from hunching so much over them. Fully facing you now is a problem…it's always a problem with how tight this suit can be.
"Oh, you love her, don't even lie." Lie. Lie. Lie. For god's sakes, just lie.
"I tolerate her presence in my workspace."
"Isn't she just adorable, though? She gives me baby fever like mad–don't you feel it too?" One look at you, one shared glance is all it takes in that moment for him to crack.
"...Maybe. Just…a little bit, though." And you just grin. That big, dumb, pretty grin that has him turning away from you in a hurried bid to hide the restlessness stirring beneath his spandex.
That first time was barely memorable in clarity not because of your performance or his, but because you were both drunk out of your minds after Peter's birthday party and couldn't peel yourselves off of each other when he took you back home. You'd gotten on top of him, he'd tugged your dress off, you kissed and the rest was history–rough, drooling, heart-pounding history as you rode his lap and whispered things into his ear that to this day he wishes he had recorded. No precautions, no inhibitions, no worries about your lives as they would go on, just the two of you getting yourselves off and spilling out some foul compliments on the way there. How he loves the way your eyes roll back when you cum and how good his tongue feels inside you, how you want him to finish inside you, please Miguel-
"Don't forget to eat, Miguel. You're still human, you know–not just a worker bot." A pat on his shoulder, a whiff of your perfume, and you're gone again. A wisp of memory that mingles with the heated sweat trickling down his neck as he remembers what you looked like on your knees.
In reality, it's been more than that one time, more than twice or even three times. For a couple months now he's found comfort in you after hours, had his needs taken care of completely by the person that so embodies who he was in love with not so long ago. It's taken him awhile to accept it but he knows for sure that you are that person–you and her are one in the same, the only difference being that you haven't yet fallen for him and started your family together. Well, maybe you have, for all he knows. He can't get his hopes up….not quite yet, at least.
Could you be pregnant already? The idea passes over his head and the mere thought of it pools a heat into his lower stomach that he's quick to drown with a sip of water. It's possible, that's true, but…well, you've certainly forgone protection together a couple times after that first encounter. You could be. But if you are, he's got a whole world of problems coming his way. But it would make him so happy. So would Parker, he'd have a friend for Mayday to play with–but he has to shake it from his mind with total urgency, because that's not his purpose and it's not what he should be focusing on at all. You're a coworker and a fling. Nothing more. A piece of meat to sink his teeth into when he feels the urge, a bloodbag to drink from when you so graciously allow him to, an assistant to shut up and do the work he demands of you without question.
He's trying so hard to convince himself of that that he can barely keep his eyes on the screens. Because the moments where he feels you twitch around him and when he sinks his fangs into your throat during the heat of the moment don't nearly affect him as much as those other moments; the softer ones, the ones where he brushes some hair from your face and you laugh at his cheesy attempt at a joke, when you fall asleep in his arms and he cradles you close like he did when you were married, when he lays awake and ponders not taking you back to your room but keeping you under his arm all night. Warm. Safe. Here. Not just in his memories, but in real life.
Maybe if you did fall in love, and if you did get married, and if you had his child, he'd even get to see his precious Gabriella again. His life. His love. His fingers flicker towards the secure files on his hard drive without him even noticing, and in moments he has those videos up and playing like he hasn't watched them a thousand times over. Those darling smiles and that precious laughter…he would just die to hear it again in real life and not through his speakers, and who's to say it wouldn't happen? If he'd allow himself a moment to indulge, how could he be sure that you wouldn't have Gabi in your lives again if you tried for her? Would you even object if he told you the truth and showed you these videos as proof? You have such a kind heart, he'd struggle to believe you wouldn't offer to give him his dream if you knew it even existed.
But a better question is; is the fate of the spiderverse worth it? Would his act of subverting destiny again ruin even more lives than the ones in his own dimension? Is it worth…..no, it's not worth the risk.
With a sigh, Miguel closes the videos and, for the umpteenth time, hovers his fingers uselessly over the delete key. Those memories of you and her are all he has to cling to, but as always, he's reminded of the cost of dwelling too far on times he'll never get to relive. Gabi's gone, you are gone, and no matter how often he entertains it in his mind he'll never have the life he wants back. Ever. It's just not possible, and it's not fair to expect the sacrifices of every other hero in these dimensions while avoiding his own. He has to be a pillar of strength, even though it feels like he'll always be worthless as his hand lowers and he moves the files back into his storage. Gabi's voice crying out "Gotcha, papi!" on that last video as she smushes her dessert into his face, his gaze halting as he watches his past self and his daughter laughing while you hold the camera. You're so beautiful you transcend your own image; your mere presence is absolute beauty and the thought of you is as pure as the joy in those videos.
"She's adorable, too."
In a split-second, Miguel's head whips over his shoulder and he locks eyes with the one person who he swore he could never let see these videos–you. You, who clearly didn't leave when he thought you had, and had casually wandered up behind him completely unnoticed as he got wrapped up in the past. Like a man possessed, he throws his hand out to slam the pause command on the hologram and stop you from witnessing any more, because if you realize that it's you that's also in this scene, then…well, he has no idea what to do, then.
"Y-You weren't supposed to–puta madre–I thought you left, what're you doing sneaking around?" A twinge of guilt hits him at the rejection that dims your eyes, but you lighten up almost as fast and skirt around him to peer closer at the video, still paused on himself and his daughter propped up on his shoulders.
"Nothing. Is this your daughter?" You ask it so casually he almost falls victim to offense rising inside him, up until he reminds himself that the you he's talking to isn't Gabriella's mother. You have no recollection of her, and it…it's very difficult not to want to talk your ear off about her like she's still here, and he's still her papi.
"I…yes, this is–was–my daughter-"
"Gabriella?" Your eyes flick up towards the file name, something unusually placid about your gaze.
"Yes…Gabriella. Gabi."
The silence beckons him into anger, to turn to rage in the absence of a proper answer to this predicament. But instead of raising his voice and shouting you away, he waits and watches you watching the hologram because it isn't moving, but there's something there. Dare he consider that the depth of your gaze is because there's some flicker of recognition in your eyes? This video is, after all, from your perspective, so would it be so far-fetched to think that maybe you might be seeing yourself in that little girl that shares your smile?
"...Y'know, I miss people from my world, too." You finally turn your head to look up at him, your head full of clouds like always. "It's not all bad to reminisce, Miguel."
I know that. That's what he wants to say, how he wants to react; with a bitter amount of snark that would turn a lesser companion away. But for now, for once, he just shuts his mouth and turns his eyes away. He can't bear to meet your gaze no matter how much he wants to bask in it.
"Are you busy tonight?"
"I…I don't think I have plans." Those words choke themselves out of him by force but they don't turn you off. The heat on your skin, the furrow of your brow…somehow you're only dialed all the way up.
"Mmh. Sounds good. Let's hang out, yeah? I'll help you loosen up." You pat his shoulder with more impact this time, you actually mean it this time as you step down to take your leave. But you're not gone yet, you still linger for him to wish you were and weren't all at the same time. When you look at him, as conflicted as he feels, all he sees are stars in your eyes. "....Gabriella, right? It's a really cute name. I like it."
Maybe you know. You giggle just as sweetly as the you in that tape–maybe if you don't know, it's just as good. Regardless of who he was and who you were before all this, despite everything, he still has you. That's more than he could ask for in any world, and in any lifetime.
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myladysapphire · 4 months
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My Lady Strong (IV)
Aemond had always been protective of his neice, obssessed even, insiting on keeping her sheltered, and purley his, he never let her stray far and following the incident at Driftmark, Aemma was rarley without Aemond as her shadow. How will the kind, sheltered girl fair in the dance of dragons?
word count: 1,495
CW: bullying, feelings of neglect and isolation
Fem!oc x Aemond Targeryen can be read as x reader)
Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part
disclamer:  i do not own any of claim any of the A song of ice and  fire characters, all rights belong to GRR MARTIN, all characters are his except for my OC
a/n just to warn you Aemma is very naive and this chapter shows it, but shes 9 so what can you expect. also next chapter im planning a 4 year time skip, so Aemma will be 13 and Aemond 16.
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It had been nearly a year since the events of Driftmark. Since her mother and brothers had left to Dragonstone. A year since her fathers death. And yet she already had a new father, one she did not like, alongside his two daughters. She had also gained a new brother. But she hadn’t met him, and she doubted she would meet him soon. As each day passed the distance between Dragonstone and the red keep seemed to get bigger and bigger.
“My dear?” she heard Alicent call out, having gotten closer the last year, Alicent had become more and more of a mother to her, and being her 9th nameday and her mother and brothers nowhere to be seen, to Aemma it had began to seem like Alicent was more of a mother to her than her own. A fact little 9 year old Aemma could not stomach to admit.
“Yes?” she asked, looking up from her spot in the library. She had found her time often spent alone as of late. Aemond having become more distant since the incident. And Heleana, well was Heleana, keeping to herself, though she had become more and more isolated since her wedding to Aegon last month. And Aegon spent most of his time at the bottom of a bottle in the depths of kingslanding. So she resided in herself spending days in the library by herself, in a spot that used to be her and Aemonds to just becoming hers. And the few spare moments Aemond seemed to give her were spent training Vaghar, or watching him train with ser criston. He no longer wanted to chase after each other in the godswoods, or read in the library. Or simply just existing in each others company. She understood, somewhat, he was becoming a man, a man hell bent on learning everything in him to defend himself, to learn to fight. Everyone was growing up, but her, and she was being left behind.
“My sweet girl, what's wrong?” Alicent questioned, rounding the corner to see Aemma in what she knew to be her spot. “Hmm? You seem to spend every moment alone, and I know many girls at court who would die for a moment of time spent with you.”
“What girls? Helena only ever wants to be by herself, and seems to ignore me every time i spend time with her, and the last set of girls you summoned just whispered rumours behind my back. I don't wish to spend time with them, i just want Aemond, and he doesn't want me.”
Sighing, Alicent moved down to her level, talking her hands in hers, “that's not true, Aemond still adores you, he is, well-... he's becoming a man and needs time to grow, and after the events of driftmark, well they changed him, just give him time.
“Time? Thats all ive done, it's been almost a year, and not even a moon had passed after driftamrk has he started to ice me out. He was supposed to marry me, and yet he's completely changed!”
“He's a boy, a twelve, Trust me sweetheart, he's just a silly boy who thinks he has to do all of these things to make up for his lack of eye. He thinks you will not love him, think him to be hideous, that is why.” Alicent responded, soothing Aemma, by stroking her hair.
“Well that's just plain stupid!”
“I know,sweet girl, but all boys are.” Alicent continued “ know, we have a birthday ball and feast to attend, and my gift is waiting for you.” she said standing up and inviting Aemma up with her.
In her chambers, laid out on her bed was a white dress embellished with gold. It had puffed sleeves that slimmed down to cover her arm. The dress was lkonger than her usual dresses, and more wide, though not by much. Glod was laced around the neck line, and out edges of the dress, with gold and silver jewels scattered across it, creatijng a pattern down the bodedice. The white itself seemed to shimmer, as if moonlight was bouncing off it. When she put it on she felt pretty. She felt beautiful. Her hair was tied up with a gold ribbon, decorated with pearls and butterflies. For this she knew the gift was not Alicent but Aemonds, or atleast he had some influence. Butterflies. The thing they always used to chase, and the thing ameond loved to compare her too. Butterflies. 
The feast was magnificent, lords and ladies from all over Westeros had come, and she had received more than enough gifts and attention though not from anyone that mattered to her. 
Aemodn was there from the start, though he stuck to eating rather than actually spending any time with her. His attention seemed to be elsewhere.
“Aemond?” she questioned, trying to capture his attention “Aemond, are you enjoying the feast?” he did not reply, looking down at his plate instead, avoiding eye contact. “Aemond?” she pushed again “Aemond!? By the gods answer me!”
“Hmm?” he hummed looking up, allowing her to see the book placed in his lap.
“Gods why wojnt you talk to me?” she asked, moveing to turn to him, her eyes filling with tears, “ for the last six moons i have been acting like a stay dog trying to get your attenion, and now even at a feast helped in my honoru, you brign-” she reached forward grabbing Aemonds book “- a book. A book? To my own party, instead of talking to me. Why?”
“Aemma, please-”
“No, tell me.!”
“Gods, you're a child!” he snactehd the book from her hand, “your just a silly little girl, can't you understand that, you could not defend me, and when you had the chance to you ran off to your pathetic mother, and then come crying to me for help, whilst i have just lost an eye to your bas-” he shook his head, a look of shame fillking his face as he sees her eyes filled with tears, “gods!” he sighed, dragging a hand down his face, reaching forward “Aemma- it's been a lot lately, i have had to relearn everything, to fit with the loss of my eye, and i, look im sorry, i just snapped. But you have to understand, i cnat be a child anylonger, being your friend, and litening to your childish escapades caused me to be in this situation. Now I have to be a man, I have to stop being a child.”
“So you have to stop being my freind, to go on your silly little- your, to be a man? What does that even mean?!” she cried, “it's my nameday, can you not just be my friend for today?” she was begging,it was almost pitiful. 
Aemonds face changed, snapping form the look of shame and regret to annoyance, to cold and still, a face evewryone would soon be familiar with, “ and why would i want to do that” he sneerd, dropping her hand, and standing up, before briskly leaving the room without a single glance back. 
The rest of her night was spent alone. With Heleana leaving not shortly after Aemond, followed by Aegon muttering something about doing his husbandly duty. Alicent and her grandsire had already left an hour in, the King's health failing him, and forcing many of the lords and ladies to leave, as if their only purpose was to talk to him and not her. So she was left all by herself bar a few older cousins that she did not know. 
But the remaining hours she was forced to stay, many lordlings asked her to dance, and it turns out Alicent had already summoned some more girls to King's Landing, arranging a meeting  witht them at her own ball. Taking her mind of the event sthat had happened prior, evne if for a few hours. For a few hours she wasnt so alone, for a few hours she was just a nine year old girl celebrating her name day, celebrating with her friends. People who over the next four years would become the only people she truly had.
And when she did finally retire to her rooms, and she was well and truly alone she cried, she knew no one would knock and have late night celebrations, just as no one had knocked at midnight to wish her a happy name day. Just as Aemond did not spend every second of the day with her, smuggling her all the food she wanted, and giving her a gift for every hour of the day. She spent it alone, and she would spend the next four namedays alone, crying. She would celebrate with her ladies, though it would never be the same, she owuld dance with strangers, and not ameond, where dresses gifted by people other than her mother and Aemond. Her family would become more distant and Aemond becomes less and less her Aemond.
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Taglist (bold means could not tag)
My lady strong: @aemondssiut@idonotknowenglish @sydneyyyya @wondergal2001 @whitejuliana1204 @meowtastick @bellaisasleep @tinykryptonitewerewolf @sarahkimtae @winchesterfamiliebusiness @iiamthehybrid @zzz000eee @spookydaddy01 @melllinaa @ateliefloresdaprimavera @aelora-a @aleemendoza2425-blog @chittakii @gghoulzz @ryiana @duckworthbean @cynic-spirit @may-machin @Gianinaa19 @wolfiealina @unique7676 @yentroucnagol @loserwithnofriends @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @urmomsbananabread @azaleapotterblack @delaynew
Hotd: @targaryenmoony @theanxietyqueen17 @flrboyd @zillahvathek @dark-night-sky-99 @apollonshootafar
Aemond: @blossomedflowerofluv @violet-potter
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