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themotherofhorses · 11 months

Text

pairing: aemond targaryen x handmaid!reader

summary: “please,” aemond begs, keeping you flush against him as he nuzzles your breasts. “allow me to make love to you, sweet girl.”

(or aemond's first time with his handmaid).

warnings: explicit lang. a tiny bit of angst at the beginning. protective!aemond. p in v smut. slight breeding kink. spitting kink towards the end. fluff. all around good vibes bc aemond's in love and we all love that for him.

notes: happy birthday to me. pls be nice to me, i'm unfortunately entering my twenties today.

his handmaid's tales | main masterlist

Aemond spends the better part of the chilly winter day searching for his handmaid.

You had been missing when he returned to his bedchamber at midday, wishing to eat his lunch in your company. Did she forget my first rule, by chance? Aemond thought to himself, holding the chalice to his lips. Perhaps…but he could not stomach another bite of his roasted meat, his mind too consumed with thoughts of you.

So he looks throughout the kitchen wing, and the library and Great Hall, until he passes by his mother and sister in the hallway.

But neither woman claims to have seen you, and he’s left twice as confused and frustrated and concerned as he continues to wander about the Red Keep like some lovesick and anxious fool.

“Ah, my prince,” Lord Larys Strong purrs as his steps falls alongside Aemond’s. “Perchance I could be of service. I overheard you are looking for your little handmaid.”

Aemond turns to look at him. “Yes,” he answers, his eyebrow raising, “-have you seen her?”

The lord’s smile is sly. “Several hours ago, actually. She was heading up to the servant quarters…” but his smile then drops, quickly replaced with a frown, “but she seemed to be in tears, if I’m to remember correctly. Poor child, she was an awful, trembling mess, never once looking up to meet my eyes when I greeted her.”

“She was crying?” Aemond cocks his head sideways, swallowing down the ire beginning to bubble inside his chest.

“Yes. It was rather grievous and sad,” and Clubfoot shakes his head dolefully. “A maiden like her deserves a smile on her face at all times, would you not agree, my prince?”

Aemond’s jaw clenches, and he glances to the stairs leading upwards to the servant quarters. Someone made you cry? His blood turns cold, and his fist balls up at his side. Remembering where he was, he gives the lord a curt nod. “Thank you, Lord Strong,” and leaves it at that, rushing up the stairway and down the hall, whilst hundreds of questions thronged in his head.

Who dared make you cry? You, who is rightfully his- his handmaid, his woman. You were supposed to remain safe and happy within his room, tucked away from ill-tempered bastards and envious tongues. If he could not protect you…

He turns the corner, huffing. He’d see whoever made you cry is punished, Aemond decides as he walks down the strip, passing by shut door after door, until he hears fainting sobbing. A sniffle, then, and a tiny hiccup that soon follows. That stops him in his steps. You. You. You, you, you…

“Love,” he whispers, knocking his knuckles on the door before slowly cracking it open. “Love, it’s me.” You twist to meet him in sullen silence, and his heart shatters at the sight. Your pretty doe-eyes are both red and teary, and your bottom lip quivers. It’s busted too, more scarlet now than pink. But it is the ugly bruise coloring your left cheek- large and hand-shaped, that causes his eye to widen.

“Who?” he spat, crossing the room to gather you in his arms, his voice raising. “Who’s done this to you?”

But you lower your eyes, and bury your face within his neck, hiding away from his gaze and questions. Aemond softens, and his thumb gently strokes your cheek, pausing when you flinch. “My love, I need to know at once. This…this is a horrible injustice served upon you, one I know you did not deserve!”

You shake your head, face crumpling as another sob escapes you.

His eye narrows.

“Was it my brother?” Aemond demands. “Or a houseguard?”

“No,” you mumble, feeling ill, like your tummy is tied in a knot. “It was neither, my prince.”

“Well?”

You sigh. “It was one of the septas, a new one to the castle. I do not know her name,” you explain. “She caught me in your room and scolded me, saying how it was beyond disrespectful and ill-mannered of me to flaunter about your bedroom as if it was my own. She said…she said you would have my head for such, and when I tried to explain myself,” and you hiccup, feeling a wave of fresh tears, “-that I was your handmaid, she slapped me!”

“She said I would have your head? That I would kill you?”

You nod, wiping away the few fat tears streaking down your cheek, wincing at the slight sting from the bruised skin. “She said she would bring it up with the Queen herself, that there was no need for insolent little maids like me running around the castle. Oh, I’m so sorry, my prince. I’m terribly sorry. Please, please, please forgive me!”

But Aemond’s thumb brushes lightly across your plump lip, shushing you. “Those words should never fall from these lips, sweetling. They were not made for that.” You feel like crying again, this time from relief.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, my love. I couldn’t even imagine…” his voice trails off. How could this septa easily plant a seed of doubt within your mind, and make you think he would ever harm you? Or call for your death? As if you’re not the very air he breathes every day.

“You terrified me when I could not find you earlier, love.”

By now, you’re a lot calmer and breathing fine again, nestled within his embrace. Your cheek still stings but you’ll live. You lay your head against Aemond’s chest, listening to his faint heartbeat in his breast. Thump, thump, thump.

No more words are shared between the two of you, but his kiss on your temple says much more than anything could.

Soon, Aemond takes you back to his bedchamber, to his tub, and calls for several women to tend to you while he busies himself in burning the servant garb you were wearing today, until nothing is left but sooty ashes and singed cloths. He refuses to allow you to wear that shabby, tainted dress you were so wrongfully punished in. If not for you, then for himself. It eases his mind. And someday you’ll wear nothing but the finest and prettiest gowns, he swears, ones that are fit for no one but a princess.

He’ll have a talk with his mother too. His queen mother has a soft spot for his handmaid, he knows, and Helaena too. This will not go unseen and unpunished.

The prince returns when your bath is finished, and dismisses the women before carrying you off to his featherbed. You’re still quiet, hushed, lips pressed in a tight line while he dries your hair. “You do not need to do this, my prince,” you tell him softly, nervously lacing your fingers together. “I’m undeserving of such treatment, really. It should be I who does this for you.”

“Nonsense, sweetling.”

He’ll be your husband one day, and is merely practicing his husbandly duties, although he doesn’t actually say that piece aloud. It’s all a bit tricky right now, but he’s already decided he will not marry anyone who isn’t you.

Aemond bends to kiss your shoulder, ever so tenderly. You have four pretty birthmarks littering the skin, and he presses a sweet kiss atop all of them. He loves it. You’re so fucking gorgeous. “You’re mine,” he mumbles, nuzzling his forehead against your shoulder blade. “It’s my duty to care for you.”

“No, my prince, ‘tis my duty as your servant.”

He smiles up at you. “Ah, and I’m your protector, best to remember that, sweet girl.” And he leaves nothing more to be said, quickly standing you up in front of him, naked and breathing messily and too shy to meet his eye. Oh, but you’re too pretty for your own good, he tells himself. His fingertips gently trace along your hipbones while he leans to nuzzle his face into your tummy. Aemond then feels your soft hands finding his hair, fingers raking through as you sigh deeply.

“You smell good,” he whispers. “So damn good.”

You giggle. “Do I, my prince?”

Aemond hums, raising his face up to kiss your nipple- once, twice, thrice. He feels you suddenly tense against him, your breath catching in your throat. “Nice and warm and all mine,” he adds, blowing a puff of warm air over your breast that earns him a sweet little moan, one that sends blood rushing down to his cock. His arms circle around your waist, hands falling to knead your asscheeks.

“Let me make love to you.”

“My prince?” you ask, eyes widening as you recoil from your prince’s touch, your legs suddenly feeling weak like water.

Did you hear him right?

“Please,” Aemond begs, keeping you flush against him as he nuzzles your breasts. “Allow me to make love to you, sweet girl.” I see my future in your face. My children in your eyes. His hand cups your right breast, catching a hard nipple between two fingers. My sons at your breasts. His handmaid has come for him, to deliver to him everything he’s been so cruelly denied in this life. “Say yes,” he murmurs. “Let me finally claim you as mine own.” It is your blood I need, your blood on my sheets, and my seed in your belly, and your life and name as my own.

You close your eyes, yet still see your handsome prince grinning at you.

It’s wrong, you think. It’d be so wrong of us. I’d be banished.

I can’t.

“Okay, my prince,” you say, with a bated breath. “Make love to me.”

An hour later, the wind has risen to a sharp howl against the stone walls, and fat raindrops ping against the windowpane. A winter storm, but there is little to no need to worry about such.

You’re quite nicely warm and dry, and safe within your prince’s arms as he nudges your thighs open. He’s already been down there, spending a good half of the last hour feasting on your wet cunt. It was like he’d been fasting for weeks; he took little mercy on you.

“Open wide,” he mutters. “Good girl. Keep ‘em like that for me.”

You whimper. Your Prince Aemond is gorgeous, with silver hair that shines like fresh snow and pale, naked skin that is covered in faint scarring, undoubtedly from boyhood. You’ve never seen someone so beautiful. His arms are thickened with lean, lithe muscle as he holds himself above your body, one hand laced firmly in yours.

And he looks down at you with bright, violet eyes, with a look perhaps only a man gives his new bride on her wedding night.

It makes you squirm beneath him.

He slides his cock in slowly, hissing at your tightness. “FUCK.” His head dips down near yours, lips barely grazing your ear as he lets out a low moan. “Gods be fucking good, you feel so fucking good…wrapped around my fucking cock, at last,” he says, voice raspy. “Right where you belong.”

Aemond feels that he won’t last long. He’s back to the days of his boyhood, during his thirteenth nameday when Aegon took him to the whorehouse, and he felt a woman’s touch for the first time.

Except now he has the woman he wants- soft and submissive and cunny wet and ready for him- and it is his turn to teach and guide her.

“Ah, my brave girl,” he tells you, pausing to kiss your forehead, then your swollen, pink lips. “It hurts, I know. It’ll feel better soon, I promise.”

And afterward, Aemond Targaryen’s watching as you shake and sob and fall to utter pieces, your beautiful face scrunched up in blissful pleasure as his thrusts soon quicken, and his hips snap into yours with such a harsh pace, it’s sure to leave dark bruises behind.

Your hands find his shoulders in a tight grip, in some desperate attempt to cling onto him whilst he fucks you good.

And, thankfully, it’s his name that tumbles out of your mouth, and not his stupid royal title. It follows your cries and moans and whimpers that echo throughout his bedchamber. To Aemond, it is poetic in some way. Several months back you were seated on his settee, singing, and now you’re buried within his sheets as he makes you a mother.

His loins ache for release, and he fondles your breast, toying with your nipple as he pounds you only harder. Aemond hopes to any god listening that the guards outside are listening in, and the serving girls too. He’s a prince of the realm- he means to claim all his rights. Let them all hear as he plows into his handmaid and stuffs her full of his sons.

Beneath him, you shudder and gasp- again and again- before arching your spine and flinging your arms around his neck. “AEMOND,” you scream, feeling a sudden tightness deep within your belly, almost like you’re only several seconds away from exploding into flames. Perhaps you are.

“Mercy on me, Aemond! Please!”

“Shhh,” Aemon coos, cradling your face as he fucks you through your orgasm. “I have you, pretty girl. You’re okay. Doesn’t this feel good? It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Ah, so- so good, Aemond…!”

He grins at your fucked-out face, and the little bit of drool pooling around the corner of your mouth, before lightly tapping his fingertip against your bottom lip. “Open up,” he commands, squeezing your cheeks together, when your mouth opens, he spits in it. “Now swallow- mmm, such a good girl, always doing what I say.”

Aemond chooses all his words carefully, loving the way his sweet little handmaid preens under all his given attention and praises, so prettily that he’s willing to discard all of his morals and seed her full of his future bastards. Silver-haired babes that would gurgle at him happily, and grow to carry on his name and legacy.

For her, he thinks, leaning to kiss you again, feeling your cunt clamping down on him, she’s worth every damn thing and more.

tag list for "his handmaid's tales": @aemondsblog @dc-marvel-girl96 @neobanguniverse @missalycat21 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan @padfooteyes @alexizodd @avidreader73 @the-common-cowgirl @inlovewithhisblueeyes @elegantsplendour @katzarantos @fan-goddess @okfashionista @randomdragonfires @aemvnd @mochimommy2002 @fangirlninja67

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond smut #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond fanfiction #handmaid!reader #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd fanfic #vic writes 🧸

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gxthicwxrm · 1 year

Note

would you pls write jj having sex with reader while ALL the pogues are at the chateau in the living room & they both don’t hold back because they’re filthy & don’t get embarrassed🫣

Birthday Boy

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Fem!pouge!reader

Summary: you have a surprise party for JJ, and he has a surprise for you.

Warnings: smut, cursing, p in v, weed/smoking, fluff

Word Count: 2149 words

Main Masterlist - OBX Masterlist

---

"Surprise!" Everyone screams as JJ pulls off the bandana you tied across his eyes before looking around the room at the decorations you and your friends had put up while John B took JJ to pick up dinner. With a massive smile across his features, he turns to you as you hold a cake in your arms, candles illuminating the sugary square.

"Happy Birthday, J." You smile as you look up at him. He blows out the candles before capturing your lips in a kiss.

"I love you." He mumbles against your flesh before pulling away and turning to his friends. Sarah walks over to you, taking the cake from your hands.

“You did good. This is amazing!” Sarah reassures you before heading to the kitchen.. You’ve known Sarah since you were eleven years old. She was the first and closest friend you made since you moved to the OBX. That was until she introduced you to JJ.

"Thank you guys so much! Y'all didn't have to do all of this for me." He says nonchalantly, attempting to brush the gesture off, but his glassy eyes give him away as he looks around at everyone with a bashful smile. Coming up beside him, you wrap your arms around his slim waist making him wrap his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him tightly.

“JJ, you deserve this and more. You deserve the world.” You tell him, leaning forward to place a kiss on his cheek; a lipstick stain marking his face. You move to wipe it off when he catches your wrist.

“Leave it. I like it.” He says, kissing your hand before turning back to his friends, a mischievous smile on his face as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a perfectly rolled joint.

“Birthday Sesh.” Everyone froze in silence before bursting into laughter as JJ looked around at his friends confused. Once the laughter died down, Sarah reached behind the couch as Pope grabbed a tray from under the coffee table. Sarah tosses a bag to John B who handed it to JJ. Giggling, JJ opened the bag and pulled out a joint and two blunts while Pope put the tray on top of the table that held two smaller joints and a bowl.

“Birthday sesh!” The group says in unison before making their way to the lit fire burning. JJ was shocked as he looked around the yard to see lights laced through the branches of the trees and balloons tied to a chair with a cloth on it. You walk over to the chair, grabbing the cloth before motioning for the blonde to come to you before putting the sash over his torso.

‘Birthday Boy.’

Looking down at the fabric, JJ blushes before grabbing your face and pressing his lips against yours. His hand slides down to cup your throat as he growls, quietly.

“Get a room!” Kie yells as Pope whistles as they grab a seat around the fire. JJ plops into his seat, pulling you into his lap before lighting the first joint of the night as conversation picks up.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you. Honest, I don’t know how I got so lucky to have found you.” JJ whispers into your ears before kissing your cheek, passing the jay to Pope who was ranting about something to Kie.

“I’m the lucky one, JJ. Did you like the surprise?” You ask, turning to face him as his hand rubs your upper thigh.

“Yes, baby. This is the best thing anyone has ever done for me. And it was with my family. It is perfect, baby girl.” He brushes your cheek before Pope brings him into the debate between him and Kie while JB laughs at Pope’s dramatic gestures, almost knocking over his drink.

Across the fire, you could see Sarah's mouth word, ‘I told you so’.

---

“Goodnight!” JB and Sarah were the last to go to bed as the clock hit three am. before you and JJ move into the bedroom. Closing the door behind him, JJ pulls off his t-shirt before tossing his shorts to the side and jumping into bed. Following behind him, you strip down to your underwear and hop in beside him. Pulling the covers over both of you, JJ pulls your chest against his.

“Tonight did mean a lot to me, babe. I don’t even have words for it. I’m just so grateful for you.” He says, holding your face while his other hand rubs your side. Caressing his back, you draw small patterns into his skin before looking up at him.

“I would go to the end of the earth for you, JJ Maybank. You deserve everything in the world that would make you happy.” You say sincerely. Your words ignite something in JJ as his hand moves from your hip to gripping your ass.

“Everything? I deserve everything I want? That’s what you said, right baby?” JJ’s voice is smooth as his eyes rake over your face as he slowly shifts his weight until he is hovering over you.

“Yes.” You whisper as JJ guides your legs around his hips, grinding his bulge against your core, gaining a moan from both of you.

“You wanna know what I want?” JJ kisses down your neck, leaving love bites here and there along your collarbone. Pulling off your bra, JJ kisses along your breast before licking your nipple, bringing a yelp from your lips. Pulling away, his lips are switched with his fingers as he plays with your nipple.

“I asked you a question.” JJ looks up at you, abruptly stopping his movements. “Do you want to know what I want?” He asks again, enunciating every word.

“Yes, sir.” You answer, grinding your hips upwards against him before he lowers against you, grinding harder.

“Good girl.” He praises you with a warm smile before his eyes darkened as you whine, pathetically. “I want you to be a screaming mess beneath me.” He grabs your underwear and pulls them down your legs before removing his boxer, tossing both to the floor. JJ rubs his cock against your clit before guiding himself into you until you are full of him.

Arching your back, your eyes roll back as JJ pushes your legs apart before rapidly thrusting into you eliciting boisterous moans that filled the room.

"Fuck, you look so good under me," JJ grunts as his hand grips your throat, squeezing slightly.

The two of you became an obnoxious, moaning mess as you feel your stomach start to tighten as JJ's hips smack against yours, transporting you as your eyes rolled back.

"Oh Fuck, I'm coming!" You yelp as your cum drenched JJ's thighs. JJ's thrusts slow down as he lets you ride your high out before pulling up, much to your disappointment.

"Turn around. I wanna see that ass, baby girl." JJ gestures with his hand, which you comply with as you arch your back while resting on your elbows.

"You listen to me so well, baby. You just love to let me use you, huh? You love being full of my cock?" J nibbles on your ear lobe as he pressed his dick into your core, making an unexpected gasp leave your lips as you drop your head against the bed.

"Oh, God. Oh my God. This feels so good." You groan as you feel JJ snake his hand through your hair before gripping at the scalp, pulling you until your back was against his chest while he slowly thrust into you.

"Oh, little one. Don't scream God’s name, scream mine." He snarls as he lets go of your hair, letting your drop to your arms again before pounding into you at an alarming speed.

"Fuck! JJ! Holy Shit." You screamed as JJ pulled you closer, making himself go deeper into you. You feel yourself tighten around him as the pressure in your abdomen grows.

"This is fucking heaven!" JJ moans as he grabs your hair again, being more gentle than the previous. "I'm going to cum." JJ grabs your hips and slams you against him while you reach for your clit, rubbing circles as you felt yourself begin to come.

"Oh, yes! JJ! Fuck!" You moan as you feel JJ pull out quickly before his cum lands on your backside.

Stunned, you lay on the bed, feeling euphoric as JJ wipes himself off with a rag before grabbing another to wipe you off before pulling on fresh boxers you finally turn and sit up to face him, a lazy smile covering your face.

"Here, baby. Put this on." JJ says as he grabs one of his old t-shirts and hands it to you, but stops you to lean down and connect your lips.

"You are the best gift I could ever ask for. I mean that with my whole heart. And I will marry you one day. Matter of fact, wait…" JJ dashes over to his bag as you pull on his shirt and scoot to the edge of the bed as he comes back to sit in front of you with something in his hands.

"JJ, what are you doing?" You laugh, unsure of why he was kneeling on one knee when you realized what was in his hands. The blonde boy sat in front of you, in nothing but his boxers, with a ring outstretched in his hands. Your heart started to pound in your ears as fear crept into your soul. He wouldn't, would he?

"Y/N, will you do me the honor of being Mrs. Maybank?" JJ looks up at you, eyes filled with fear as you analyze him for any sign of a joke. When you found nothing but sincerity, a smile broke out on your face.

"Yes, of course. I would be honored to be your wife, JJ." Your words send JJ flying towards you as he wraps you in his arms as you both fall onto the bed.

"Fuck yes!" He screams, kissing all over your face before pulling away to grab your hand as he slides his ring onto your finger.

"For better, for worse," JJ says with a smile, brushing your cheek.

"For richer, for poorer," you say the next part of the vow as you lean into his hand, moving your own to brush strands of blonde from his eyes. "In sickness and in health,"

"To love and to cherish, until parted by death," You and JJ say in unison as he leans his forehead against yours, brushing his nose with yours before kissing you. Pulling away, JJ lays back as you snuggle to his side with his arm around you as you feel your eyes start to shut.

"Wanna smoke?" JJ's voice cuts through your fall to sleep as your eyes shoot open.

"Fuck yes!" You say, sitting up and pulling on a pair of your shorts and a hoodie. After slipping on your shoes, you and JJ leave the room and head towards the back when you notice all your friends are wide awake, sitting in the living room. The clock read 4:47 am.

"Congrats, guys!" Sarah says, sarcastically with a genuine smile as she leans into John B on the couch with a blanket covering them both.

"Mr. And Mrs. Maybank!" Kie joins in while John B and Pope mockingly moan loudly.

"Oh, my god." You say covering your face as you bury it into JJ's chest. Mortification wouldn't cover how you felt as your stomach started to turn. You couldn't believe your friends heard you and JJ having sex.

"Okay, guys. That's enough. Do yall want to smoke or not?" JJ laughs, erasing the joking tension as everyone looks at each other before smiling.

"Lit it up, Birthday boy." JB playfully snaps his finger at JJ as you and he sit on the couch, him pulling a fuzzy blanket over your lap with his arm still around you. Pope hands him a blunt which he lights and takes a hit before passing it to you.

"Did you guys just get engaged?" Kie asked from her spot beside Pope. With a smile, you look at JJ, waiting for his answer as he turns to the group.

"Actually, it was a Routledge-style wedding." JJ kisses the side of your head. "She's my wife." He finishes with a smile as your friends cheer as you see Sarah and JB kiss as they remember their wedding.

Looking down at your hand, you look at JJ's ring as it fits perfectly like it was made for your hand as well as his. Turning to face him, while he talks to your shared friends, you realized how perfect the two of you were together.

JJ Maybank was your husband and you couldn't be happier as his eyes catch your own and you see your future unfold in his smile. Nothing could be more right in the world than this.

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peachdues · 8 months

Note

prompt: "look at me. there you are, pretty girl. keep your eyes on me, yeah?" or "please, please let me come inside, please" w/ sanemi pls and thx 👉👈

congrats on the milestone as well! you deserve it!

Thank you, my darling!

One, piping hot, filthy Sanemi Drabble, coming up!

Peach’s 2k Milestone Event

CW: MDNI • Explicit sexual content • Mirror-fucking • Slightly dom!Sanemi

It was hard to remember you were still on this planet when Sanemi’s cock was inside of you.

Though, your boyfriend seemed in no rush to remind you that you were in fact, on earth; not when he had you bent over his bathroom counter, breasts smushed against the cold marble, as he pounded savagely into you from behind, the knee he had pressed up on the cool surface guaranteed to be bruised by the time you were finished, given how much it ground against the hard stone with every brutal slap of his hips against your ass.

I want you to see how fucking beautiful you are when I’m fucking you, he’d growled in your ear as he’d hauled you into the bathroom, the dark green teddy you’d worn for his birthday a long-forgotten memory as it lay uselessly in the corner, having been worn by you for all of five minutes before he’d torn the measly lace from your body as if it were tissue paper. That would be the best fuckin’ gift for me, baby.

So really, it was his fault that your eyes were helplessly glued to the back of your skull, mouth open as no sound but the occasional, strangled grunt managed to eke from your throat as Sanemi rammed you back against his thick, demanding length, over and over again, his groin thoroughly covered in your slick, sticky pleasure as your third orgasm threatened to break you apart for good.

You felt the familiar tug of your climax coil in the pit of your stomach, this one promising to be the most powerful and most consuming one of the night, given the way your thighs shook and trembled beneath your weight. But you were far too lost in the throes of your pleasure to remember the birthday boy’s searing command the moment before he’d sheathed himself into your demanding heat.

Keep your eyes on me, sweetheart. Only on me.

Sanemi wrenched the arm he had pinned around your back tighter as he began wildly thrusting into you, his own release approaching quickly. You moaned, helplessly pushing your hips back against him as your head fell toward to rest on the forearm you had braced against the counter, your fingers clenching tight in time with each spasm of your aching cunt.

“Y/N,” Sanemi grunted in between the loud, wet slaps of his hips against yours as his cock ruthlessly dragged in and out of your syrupy heat. “Y/N.”

But you did not answer — could not, because you were barely holding onto the last vestiges of your sanity at the way Sanemi kept hitting that spot deep within your walls — the one that had you seeing stars.

A warm, strong hand slid from its bruising grip on your hip up your back until it came to rest on the back of your head. Firm, but gentle fingers wound into the strands of your hair and pulled your head back off your arm, arcing your neck back.

The hand in your hair relaxed in favor of coming to rest against your throat, fingers squeezing lightly at the sides of your neck. “Y/N, look at me.”

The hand that had pinned your arm released it in favor of snaking around your front and in between your thighs, dipping right between your folds until it found your aching, sensitive bead.

A strangled cry tore from your throat as Sanemi pinched your clit sharply between his index finger and thumb. Your eyes flew open and clashed with his reflected in the mirror, those sinful lilac eyes two shades darker than normal, as a devilish smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“There you are, pretty girl,” he cooed, and his fingers began to circle soothingly around your throbbing, pulsing clit. His chest pressed down against your back, mashing you tighter into the counter as you strained to keep your head up. “Eyes on me, yeah?”

#demon slayer #sanemi shinazugawa #kny #kny sanemi #sanemi x reader #kny smut #demon slayer smut #hashira smut #hashira #hashira hcs #demon slayer hcs #kny headcanons #shinazugawa sanemi #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba

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two-white-butterflies · 10 months

Text

do i wanna know? | m33

Description: Max Verstappen begins dating Tony Stark's daughter.

Pairing: max verstappen/nepo-baby!reader

y/n_stark: happy father's day, so much to be thankful for ✨ tagged: tony

192 comments 182,390 likes

tonystarkisasigma: #1 alpha male

maxverstappen1: Happy Father's Day - f1forzaferrari: ariana what r u doing here 💀

schecoperez: ¡Feliz Día del Padre! - ilikesmootheis19: BYEE WHAT ARE THEY DOING HERE

danielricciardo: pls tell ur dad to give me a seat 😇 - y/n_stark: will do!

yukitsunoda0511: happy birthday

alonsohamiltonworld: friendly reminder that tony stark owns redbull and alpha tauri, that's why the drivers are kissing his @ss

Y/N STARK ALLEGEDLY DATING AN F1 DRIVER. by deuxmoi (podcast)

Deuxmoi: So allegedly a famous billionaire superhero nepo-baby is dating an F1 racer. My bets are on Y/N Stark, because her dad is the only superhero with kids. As for the F1 racer, we're not sure - some people in my dms say that it's Daniel Ricciardo, Charles Leclerc or Max Verstappen.

y/n_stark: first time in the redbull garage, totally in awe ✨

928 comments 128,349 likes

maxverstappen1: 💙🧡 #OrangeArmy

landonorris: aww missing you here - ynfans: YA'LL BE SAYING IT'S CHARLES, DANIEL AND MAX BUT IT'S OBVIOUSLY LANDO BYEE

tony: ❤️🔥

ynfans: a thread on how y/n stark is dating lando norris

Y/N was in England the same time Lando was in England. (picture proof: she's the one who took the photo)

2. Lando commented "aww missing you here" to her post 3. They would make a cute couple. I rest my case.

9 comments 100 likes

carlandoisbae: bitch bffr

grimes49r: "(shes the one who took the photo)" girl just kys 😭 they're obviously not dating

y/nfans: ok, if she's not dating lando then she's dating charles ya'll stfu because idgaf

avengersassembleconspirancy: I'm praying for the driver that manages to date iron-man's daughter.

10 comments 1,293 likes 12 retweets

peterparker1001: praying for max verstappen 😁 - ynismymommy: I CHECKED HIS PROFILE? HE INTERNS FOR TONY STARK, AND THEY'RE LIKE CLOSE CLOSE 😭 - ilovecaptainamerica: someone is getting fired 💀🤣

y/n_stark: since the cat is out of the basket 🤷🏻‍♀️💕 tagged: maxverstappen1

2911 comments 292,201 likes

maxverstappen1: 🧡💙

peterparker1001: really sorry mr verstappen 😕

starkfashion: how did ur dad react? - y/n_stark: we'll know in a few minutes 💗💕

tony: I feel sorry, - peonysandsuid: me too, she deserves better -- tony: for Max

maxverstappen1: Cheers to more laughter ✨ my lucky charm ❤️ tagged: y/n_stark, tony, redbullracing

819 comments 912,384 likes

carlandolover: bro tagged his entire family 🥶

verstappenleclercbonus: bro isn't scared of tony stark 🥶

y/n_stark: handsome and spectacular 💕

danielricciardo: aww cheers mate 🥂

lokiandthorareinnocent: bro said, i'm the boss now 🥶

AITA FOR ACCIDENTALLY EXPOSING MY BEST FRIEND'S RELATIONSHIP?

I, student, M have a friend - 23, F, and she's been in a relationship with a very famous guy for over a year now. She's very private and lowkey with all the things that she does. Now, instead of using my alternate account in commenting something - I used my real account and their relationship got exposed. She tells me that it's perfectly fine and that she doesn't blame me but I feel really bad. AITA?

3 upvotes

aragornofmirkwood: nta divorce the alternate account

benelopecruz: if she says that she doesn't blaim you, nta

maxverstappenisnomber1 max verstappen after pulling tony stark's daughter

starkfamily99 tony stark after a broke man *worth $60 million* dates his daughter

starkfamilyisworld how i imagine tony talking to max: "100 Million, stay away from my daughter"

y/n_stark: SMASH. WAIT WHAT WAS THE GAME?

193 comments 293,129 likes

y.nbutterflyworld: this is how i know tony stark is a good dad 😭 his daughter's type is SO far away from what he looks like. Sis has no daddy issues fr 😭

next part

#max verstappen #max verstappen fic #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x female reader #f1 fics #f1 #f1 imagine #max verstappen x reader #f1 fanfic

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suashii · 2 months

Text

— 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝓊𝓈𝑒 ౨ৎ

okkotsu yuta x f!reader. 2.2k wc. ﾉ smut ﾉ nsfw (mdni) ﾉ characters aged 21+ ﾉ unprotected sex ﾉ tit + nipple play ﾉ a hint of dacryphilia ﾉ brief handjob ﾉ mentions of cheating (neither yuta nor reader) ﾉ yuta is a little obsessive

note: eeee it's yuta's birthday ! ! i wrote this fairly quickly to post in time so pls forgive any mistakes :3 enjoy + wish the pretty boy a happy bday ‪‪❤︎‬

yuta has imagined your first time at his place on more occasions than he can recall and none of them could have prepared him for the reality of your first visit—sitting on his couch with your knees hugged to your chest, quiet sniffles filling the air as warm tears stream down your cheeks. it’s a bit awkward, partly because of your crying but mostly because yuta doesn’t mind it. he’s sure that a majority of men wouldn’t see this as attractive or opportunistic but, as he pulls a tissue from the box to offer you, yuta can’t help but think that this moment is perfect.

“i can’t believe he’d cheat on me.” you accept the tissue from yuta, dabbing the corners of your watery eyes. you crumple the kleenex in your hand but the action seems a bit premature as a new set of tears glaze over your eyes. a couple of them spill past your lashes when you turn to face yuta. he swallows the lump in his throat that comes with being the subject of your tearful gaze. it must be wrong to find you so pretty when you’re clearly upset. “do you think it was me? could i have done something to push him away?”

yuta’s head is shaking in denial as soon as the question falls from your lips. he can’t believe that you’d ever think that. what could you have possibly done to push him into another woman’s arms? if you were to ask him, he’d tell you that your ex was the dumbest man on planet earth for leaving you—and for someone else, at that. though, he’d also have to thank your idiotic ex for letting you go. he never deserved you to begin with and his absence was the opening that yuta often found himself praying for.

“you didn’t do anything wrong,” yuta tries to reassure you with a soft smile. he wills his hand to stop shaking as it comes up to wipe your tears away. the palm of his hand is warm against your face, the pad of his thumb rough but comforting as it brushes your cheek. the contact makes your eyes widen and lips part—you’ve been friends with yuta for a while now but he’s never touched you like this. it’s tender and you like it. to your dismay, he only lets his fingers linger a second longer before bashfully pulling away, choosing to clumsily scratch at his neck instead.

“i’m sure that you were a perfect girlfriend,” yuta tells you, and then he thinks better of his words. “not that him cheating on you would have been excusable if you weren’t!” he raises his hands and waves them in dismissal. if yuta were lucky enough to call himself your boyfriend, no number of little mistakes or miscommunications would run him away. he’d be by your side for the long haul. he’d never want to let you go.

“i just mean…” he looks up to the ceiling as he gathers the hectic thoughts bouncing around in his head into a coherent sentence. “nothing you did drove him to that.”

with a sigh, yuta closes his eyes and shakes his head subtly. his nerves are starting to get to him and he doesn’t want some stupid jitters to be what ruins this chance for him. you’re finally within his reach, just an arm’s length away, his for the taking.

he’s gotta pull himself together.

when the man tilts his head down and opens his eyes, he’s met with the sight of you. it shouldn’t make him jump, but your body is turned to face him and you’re closer than you had been before. he can feel his heart thump against his chest at the proximity but he supposes it’s a good sign. his words didn’t rub you the wrong way like he thought they might have—he’s still got a chance.

your knees are tucked beneath you now, hands resting on your thighs. your fingers nervously tap at your leg as you hold yuta’s gaze. you couldn’t be exactly sure why yuta was the first one you called upon finding out that your relationship had all but crumbled. maybe it had to do with the fact that he always seemed to want to help or maybe it was simply the fact that he was always around. regardless of the reasoning, the overwhelming sadness you had felt when you arrived is beginning to dissipate, replaced by new feelings that you’re sure you shouldn’t be acting on.

but that fleeting thought doesn’t stop you from asking, “you really think so?”

he nods, never taking his eyes off yours. “i do—”

his words jumble as you lean forward to press your lips against his. you can feel him gasp a bit but he doesn’t pull away. his lips are warm and softer than you thought they’d be. it’s a sloppy kiss, uncoordinated and messy with spit, though, that fact doesn’t stop either of you from deepening it—from chasing more.

your leg swings over his thighs so that you’re straddling him, hands coming up to cup his jaw as you run your tongue along his lower lip. your chest and yuta’s rise and fall with heavy breaths between the two of you. the air surrounding you is thick and charged and you want nothing more than to feed off of it. “is this okay?”

“yeah, but…” he doesn’t want to come off as too eager, although, he’s sure you’re having no trouble telling with the way you’re grinding on the growing tent in his jeans. he hopes he doesn’t regret asking, “are you sure?”

“i just—i need to get my mind off of him. i need a distraction,” you tell yuta, rolling your hips against his. your hands drop from his face in favor of making their way to his hair, fingers tangling in the dark, inky strands as you stare into the depths of his widened eyes. “can you be that for me?”

a strangled moan—one that yuta desperately tries, and fails, to hold back—sounds in the quiet air of his living room. nothing would make him happier than to be yours to use. the hands that had once been stiffly resting at his sides come up to make a home on your waist. “god, yes, i can.”

his confirmation is all you need to dip your head down and capture his lips in yet another kiss. yuta doesn’t attempt to swallow down his moans and you don’t either—not that it would be possible upon feeling his bulge rhythmically nudge your panty-clad clit. the contact makes your skin prickle with goosebumps and contributes to the growing wetness between your legs.

impatience overcomes you as your mind races with thoughts of what yuta feels like without all the fabric barriers. you reach down between your bodies to fumble with the buckle of his belt, lips still occupied with his. with your attention divided, it takes you a couple of botched attempts before you’re finally able to loosen his belt, undo his button, and pull down his zipper.

the sequence of actions reveals his black underwear and brings you one step closer to seeing him in his entirety. yuta’s breath hitches in his throat as you palm his cock and you take that as an opportunity to break away from the kiss, turning your full focus to the member between his legs.

your fingers slip under the waistband of his boxer briefs and pull the cotton down, releasing his erection. it slaps against his t-shirt and the cool air must bite against his head because you can hear him hiss at the new position.

your hand hesitantly hovers, eyes locking onto his in a silent plea for permission to touch him. he catches on quickly, hurriedly nodding. he’s imagined this countless times, too—how your fingers would feel wrapped around his cock. and yuta thinks he’s been patient enough until now.

when you finally take him in your hand, he’s warm and heavy in your grasp. the precum beading at his slit is plentiful. you let your thumb run over the opening, spreading the pre over his head and down his shaft, slowly stroking his length. he’s painfully hard, so much so that yuta tosses his head back to rest on the couch cushion.

he fidgets with the hem of your shirt that hugs your midsection in an effort to keep himself grounded. at this rate, he’s going to come all over your hand. he needs something to busy his mind with to keep that much from happening. “can i—” he swallows thickly before tipping his chin down to look you in the eye, “can i take off your shirt?”

you hum, raising your arms over your head so that he can pull your tee off. your absence between his legs doesn’t go unnoticed as he tugs the shirt off your torso. the fabric falls from the light grip of his fingers when he realizes that you aren’t wearing a bra. his cheeks grow impossibly warmer upon being met with the sight of your bare chest, though, instead of giving in to embarrassment, yuta’s hands come up to massage your tits.

as good as it feels to have his hands all over you, you’re aching for something more. so, while you have no intention of stopping him, you reach under your skirt to pull your panties to the side. both sets of your eyes are glued to the space between you, the space that lessens with each inch you take as you slowly sink down onto his cock. the stretch makes your lips part and your head loll as you adjust to his size.

“shit,” yuta swears under his breath, his thumbs sweeping over your hardened nipples. he can’t believe he’s buried in you, being swallowed by your warmth. he didn’t know it was possible to feel this way—like he’s walking on clouds. his next words come out quiet and breathy, so low that you can barely hear them. “you feel so good.”

a small smile pulls at the corners of your lips at his whispered statement. you’d tell him the same if you weren’t more concerned with chasing your high. as your hands come to rest on his shoulders, you lift yourself up and down, setting a relaxed rhythm that’s just enough to attain the pleasure you’re after.

it’s mesmerizing, yuta thinks, the way your breasts bounce as you ride him. he licks his lips hungrily before latching onto one of your nipples. his tongue swirls against the peak while lithe fingers pinch at and roll the other between his rough pads. the moans that push past his lips and vibrate against your skin as he sucks at your tits fuel the fire of arousal in your abdomen.

you dig your nails into his shoulders, the fabric of his shirt bunching together in your grasp with your tightened grip. between his touch, his mouth, and the way his cock head keeps bumping your g-spot, you’re not sure that you want to—or can—draw this out for any longer.

your pace quickens as your climax approaches and the rhythm you took care setting earlier has all but disappeared as your hips knock into yuta’s. your hastened tempo makes his cock twitch. that feeling of tightness in his muscles returns, the one that warns him of his impending orgasm. while he wouldn’t be ashamed to come before you, he thinks it would be more romantic if you do it together.

with his lip pulled between his teeth, yuta’s hand sneaks down to rub your clit. the unexpected touch makes you gasp in surprise. his fingers must be magic or the closest thing to it because a few simple circles are all it takes to snap the tension that had been building up in your tummy.

yuta’s name is sweet on your lips as you cry out for him. your walls spasm around his cock as your orgasm washes over you, nails biting into his shoulder blades in an attempt to ground yourself.

yuta is sure that his desire to come inside of you is unmatched, though, he isn’t sure now is an appropriate time to do so. so, he ignores the devilish thoughts begging him—urging him—to paint your insides white. he pulls out and lets his cum spurt on his sweaty shirt with a shaky groan.

beyond your shared heavy breaths, yuta’s apartment is silent. it gives you both a moment to think about what just happened, but the thoughts on your minds starkly contrast.

you’re starting to feel the weight of your actions and you’re almost positive that the regret will be in full effect once you’ve slept on it for a night. it’s not typical of you to take on rebounds and certainly not ones that run in your everyday circle. you’ll be lucky if yuta is willing to forget that any of this happened.

unlike you, yuta feels absolutely and positively weightless. you’ve successfully put every fantasy he could dream up with you to shame. if it was this good the first time, he can’t wait to see what it’ll be like when he actually gets to fuck you—when he’s able to call you his.

thanks for giving this a read! if you enjoyed, pls consider reblogging or commenting :3

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: jujutsu kaisen #yuta x reader #yuuta x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #yuta smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #𐙚 after hours

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togenabi · 9 months

Text

with flowers under the stars

inumaki toge x fem!reader (royalty au)

♡—Toge does his best to impress you, even when others might not want him to.

previous♡— [PART 1]

word count♡— 4.1k words (oml)

genre♡— fluff, romance, royalty au

aged up characters♡— 18+

content notes♡— potential lovers to actual lovers, mutual pining, courtship, dating, everyone is a prince or princes, older brother!gojo satoru, no use of y/n, romance, very fluff, mentions of engagement and marriage, toge uses sign language, some characters may be ooc >< pls forgive me

author's note♡— after rising from the grave (I'm so sorry this took so long! buT! I'm graduating! AAA) I finally finished the sequel to my first toge fic. thank you so much to those who have appreciated my previous work! now that I'm back, I hope you enjoy this as well! (⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠³⁠˘⁠)♡

Exchanging letters with prince Toge occurred frequently before you finally met again. He talked about many things, but they all ended the same way: mentioning how lovely you are and how he wishes time could run faster so he could meet you.

Toge's kingdom was a week on ship and a day by train away, so visiting was saved for important duties or events. ‘Maybe I should ask your brother to appoint me an official position in the council so I can stay in the palace.’ He wrote to you once. You reply that he doesn't deserve it, since he wouldn't be working with the empire or its people in mind.

He writes back that he fell for you a little more, and you trace that line an infinite number of times before tucking the letter away.

When the day of the banquet finally arrives, Satoru notices that you appear a bit more lavish than you usually care to look during events.

“Why! My dearest sister! How stunning you look! And for my birthday, no less! I love that color on you, your taste has improved so much!” He suddenly gasps dramatically and loudly—so loud, that the maid helping you with your earrings flinches.

“Are those... the earrings I got you last year? But I've never seen you wear them! I would give you a hug if it wouldn't ruin your clothes!”

You ignore him the entire time he fusses over you. He looks nice today, you admit. His hair is styled down which gives him a softer aura, and his white suit with gold details looks pristine. A midnight blue cape drapes over his shoulders and flows down his back. It would be difficult for anyone else to pull it off, but you don't tell him that. Goodness knows he would never let you hear the end of it.

You sigh as you watch him through the vanity mirror, but he only becomes even more giddy at your silence.

“Hey, give me that.” Satoru says to the attendant holding your brush. “Leave us.” He says as he stands behind you to brush your hair. You stare at him in disbelief.

Satoru knows you love when he brushes your hair. Even if you never outright told him, it was obvious that you enjoyed it when he cared for you. But because you were embarrassed to ask him as you got older, he hasn't done it since you were children.

He's silent and focuses on brushing your hair gently. The moment feels strangely emotional, and your resolve to ignore him cracks a bit.

“So...” Satoru meets your eyes in the mirror, then winks. “You and Toge, huh?”

You tsk, letting your resolve fully break. “I should've known you would notice.”

He laughs and places a hand on your shoulder. “Well, he wrote saying his father wanted to trade silk from their territory, and that he would like to stay at the palace to handle the negotiations.”

“...Add that to the letters you're receiving everyday, and it wasn't too hard to piece things together.”

You groan and cover your face in embarrassment. You and Toge weren't exactly a secret, but you didn't want your brother to know until it got more serious.

“So what now?” You dread having to ask. “Are you going to tell me to call it off?”

“Nope.” Satoru says, smiling. “Besides, if you're anything like your dear old brother—which, you are! Don't deny it!—I'll end up driving you into his arms if I try to keep you away.”

His eyes suddenly turn serious as he considers his next words. “He's a good kid... Good enough for you, though? We'll have to see.” He places the brush on the dresser, and takes your hand to help you on your feet.

“But what's important is to know yourself and decide for yourself. Don't let anyone else make that choice for you.” He looks sincere as he places your hand on his arm. “Shall we?”

“Satoru...” You call him, touched. He grins and kisses your forehead.

“And of course, if you end up marrying him, that saves me and the ministers the work of looking for your match!” You slap his shoulder, but he only laughs harder as he escorts you out.

The ballroom was sparkling when you arrived. There were already plenty of guests partaking in the revelries as the event had begun half an hour before. Satoru had insisted on the importance of being fashionably late. Normally, you wouldn't have let him actually be late, but you caved only for today.

“Entering, their Royal Highnesses, The Imperial Crown Prince and The Imperial Princess.”

As you descended the stairs with Satoru, the people bowed and you took that as an opportunity to look for a head of white hair, a mask or a high collar covering half the face.

“You're being too obvious.” Satoru whispered. “He'll show up, don't worry.”

He led you to the center of the hall. You were so caught up on looking for Toge that you had nearly forgotten you were to share Satoru's first dance; as he still wasn't engaged. The both of you took your positions gracefully as the music started to flow through the air.

“I'll spin you a few times.” He was grinning. “Try to spot him.”

And yet, the song ended without you seeing Toge anywhere. After giving a hasty bow to your brother, you went on with your search once again.

Your eyes caught princess Nobara the same moment she did yours. You were about to go greet her when her eyes trailed off to something behind you. When her gaze returns to yours, she's smirking and it makes you turn to look at what she saw.

Toge takes your breath away as he walks up to you. He wasn't wearing a mask, or a high collar like he had been during the previous ball. His suit was pitch black and every bit as elegant as him. Your eyes were immediately drawn to his lips and you blushed when he caught you staring. All you wanted to do was to dance with him so that you had an excuse to be close.

It seemed that he picked up on that, as he bowed and offered you his hand.

“It's good to see you again.” You greet him. He kisses the back of your hand with a smile before sweeping you away to dance.

Suddenly nervous, your words get stuck in your throat as the beginnings of a soft waltz reach your ears. “I... tried looking for you when I arrived.”

Toge leads the dance as effortlessly as he did the first time. It almost amazes you how natural it feels to move and sway with him. He seems pleased to know that you were paying him as much attention as he gave you.

Not wanting to simply dance, you took to asking him questions. “Did your journey here go smoothly?” Toge nods.

“When did you arrive?”

‘Today.’ He mouths.

“Ah. I'll have to take you sightseeing then.” You grin up at him. “Would tomorrow be alright?” You get your answer in the form of Toge grinning back, and before you could prepare yourself, he twirls you around and catches you in an embrace as the song finishes with a flourish. A number of people around you started to clap, and you couldn't help but blush in his arms.

After settling at the less crowded side of the ballroom, Toge explains, ‘I also tried to find you. I arrived as early as I could, and yet you and your brother were late.’ He looks at you almost as if to scold you, but you see mischief in his eyes. ‘I thought that you might be by the window where we met... So I went to check.’

“Oh, I see.” You respond, a bit embarrassed. “I should have warned you about my brother's flair for dramatics. He tends to do that when he's the star of the event.”

‘Do you have any remaining commitments here at the ball?’

That makes you think for a moment. “No, Satoru's the one the people want to bother today. Why?”

Toge gives you a look that makes you want to agree to almost anything he asks. ‘Will you allow me to whisk you away?’

And so you were both running, hand-in-hand and laughing, on your way to that secluded hall with the stained glass window. It shouldn't have been possible, but it felt more magical than before to be with him here again.

Toge slows his steps when you both reach the window. You realize that despite coming to cherish this place, you never sought it out when he wasn't around. Something tells you that would have only made you miss him more.

Looking at you with a serious expression, he begins to sign, ‘I know I have been very upfront about myself caring about you... But I want to ask this properly, because you deserve nothing less than the best.’

‘I would like—if it is alright with you, to formally court you.’

The smile on your face glows before you can help it, and you throw your arms around him.

“I would very much like that as well, my dear prince.” You lean to kiss his cheek.

Toge looks dazed and happy as if drunk on something you had given him. Maybe he was.

The moonlight shining through the glass paints him in a kaleidoscope of colors. Before, the only colors on him were the purple hues in his eyes. And now he stood before you, bright and shining.

‘You look beautiful.’

He took the words right out of your mouth.

⋆｡˚ 🌸 ˚｡⋆｡˚✨˚｡⋆

Satoru came to find you the day after the banquet. Naturally, he entered your office without knocking, and unceremoniously dropped a heavy document in front of the one you were already working on.

“What's this?”

“Toge's proposal...”

The floor seemed to sink, your heart and your breath gone along with it. “What?”

“—for the trade negotiations.”

It took everything in your power to not throw the block of papers at him. “You're unbelievable.”

Satoru only hummed. “So is your boyfriend. I can't believe he's making me work right after my birthday! He should be kissing up to me, not giving me paperwork!”

“Last time I checked, he's courting me. Not you.” Nevertheless, you take a few moments to sift through the document. It was very detailed and efficient. You note that the length of the proposal was due to the many alternative plans Toge had prepared. This would certainly help the negotiations go smoothly. Satoru and the ministers merely had to look at the options.

Looking back to your brother, you couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. What was he complaining about, when all he had to do was select the best plan and tweak where it was necessary?

“We're to begin the negotiations in two days. I think his plans have potential—” You couldn't help but snort at that, from what you'd seen, Toge was already excellent. (You were not biased. Not at all.) “But, I don't think the older ministers will be kind to someone who acts like a know-it-all.”

“Toge doesn't—”

“A-ah,” Satoru waves a finger at you, as if you were a child being told what you did wrong. You scowl at him but he ignores it. “This will be a test for him, to see if he's able to win against those old goons.”

“You mean yourself, then?” His expression drops at that, and you don't bother to hide how satisfied that made you feel.

⋆｡˚ 🌸 ˚｡⋆｡˚✨˚｡⋆

As the weeks flew by, Toge ended up being a lot more busy than you both anticipated. Despite officially dating, lunches together turned to having tea during breaks; then that turned to catching him in the hallway for a few moments before he had to go.

You didn't understand why his workload only seemed to grow, no matter how much effort he put in. Once, when you caught him just before he entered his chambers, you had asked him if anything was going wrong with the negotiations.

Toge looked exhausted, and yet he gave you a smile that made your heart melt. ‘No, the talks are going well, I suppose I'm just having trouble adjusting to the empire's work culture.’

You must have looked unconvinced, because Toge suddenly leaned in and rested his forehead against yours. Mischievously, he stared into your eyes until you were too flustered to be worried anymore. He laughed when you had to push him away.

That night, he bid you farewell with a kiss to your cheek.

‘Good night, darling.’

The next time you had Toge to yourself for an entire day, it was due to a holiday celebration. Everyone was too occupied with the festivities to work. You were supposed to be at another banquet Satoru had hosted, but you were determined to monopolize Toge's time today.

So you showed up at his door at the earliest respectable hour of the morning, dressed for warm weather and a picnic basket in your hand.

“Will you allow me to whisk you away?” You asked when he answered the door.

You took him on a tour of the parts of the palace he hasn't seen yet. Your office, the private library, and even some of the secret passage ways. His eyes lit up with curiosity when you showed him one behind a portrait.

You had lunch in the gardens, under a tree that offers wonderful shade. A soft blanket laid across the grass, with a spread of the empire's specialty dishes arranged all over it.

“This one,” You show Toge a cookie with flowers piped on top. “Has been my favorite since I was a child. It has just the perfect amount of sweetness, and goes beautifully with tea.”

You move to hand Toge the cookie, but he doesn't take it. Confused, you're about to ask him if anything was wrong when he leans forward and opens his mouth expectantly.

Wordlessly, you raise the cookie to his lips. The moment feels oddly intimate as he takes a bite without removing his gaze from yours.

Toge hums and moves his hands to sign, ‘It's indeed delicious.’ He leans to you and opens his mouth again.

You push the half-eaten cookie into his hands and turn away to hide your blush. “If you're able to tell me what you think about it, you can eat it yourself.”

He breathes out a laugh. Smirking at you while he chews the remaining cookie.

It was so peaceful, just sitting there with him. And it seemed as though you weren't the only one who wanted to sit with Toge. A tiny white butterfly fluttered about before landing on his knee. He looked so enchanted by it. Staring close, but being careful that he didn't move his knee or disturbed it.

The butterfly flying away made you want to explore too. Getting yourself up, you look over your shoulder and gesture for him to follow. He offers you his arm once he catches up, and you rest your hand on it. Birds chirp and leaves rustle in the wind as you walk towards the shimmering lake at the edge of the gardens.

Bracing yourself on Toge's arm, you kick your shoes off. You set them aside to dip your toes into the water. “It's so refreshing!”

Toge feels his chest grow as warm as the sunlight kisses your cheeks. He gets down on one knee to untie his shoes when he's abruptly hit by a splash of water. Flabbergasted, he looks up at you, blinking away the water droplets in his lashes.

Of course, Toge isn't one to back down from a challenge. The result is the both of you shivering and drenched by the time the sun has set. Your maids fuss all over you when you get back to the palace, and the other staff almost faint at the puddles that trail after you and Toge.

It was useless to insist that you could walk alone and that you both should get cleaned up at the soonest. Toge didn't leave your side until you entered your chambers, your gazes only being broken by the door once it closed.

⋆｡˚ 🌸 ˚｡⋆｡˚✨˚｡⋆

You got the most dreadful fever after that day with Toge. Satoru, wanting you to rest properly, made you swear not to lift a finger for work related reasons until you got better. Which, you followed without complaint. You took a break for a few days.

Toge did his best to see you, but he only got busier. His eyes looked more and more tired, dark circles under them when you caught him in the library one morning. He stayed there to work overnight. You were barely able to convince him to rest.

On another night, one of your maids caught him trying to sneak in your room, screaming and kicking him out. You could have sworn half the palace had woken up to that, and you couldn't help but hide under your sheets due to the embarrassment.

What irritates you most, however, was that the first thing you heard when you get back is, “Oh. Finally decided to return to your duties, eh?” from a delegate who spent most of his time gossiping, and whose biggest contribution to the empire was refilling the inkwells in the conference room...

The conference room has five inkwells.

Those ministers and court members were proving more and more to be nuisances. You gave them an earful when they had assumed you were slacking off when you were sick.

Not to mention, you suspected that they have been making Toge do more work than he needs to. Even if he never complains, you don't fail to notice how some courtiers turn their noses up at him just because his kingdom was distant and smaller compared to the scale of the empire.

The thought of Toge being belittled makes you pause during work, frowning at a chart of kitchen expenses as if it's done something offensive.

Dropping your pen, you head out of your office with brisk steps. You had to speak to Satoru.

⋆｡˚ 🌸 ˚｡⋆｡˚✨˚｡⋆

“Overworking Toge? Why, dear sister, I can't believe you're accusing me of such a thing!” Satoru puts a hand to his heart as if he was wounded by your words.

“Maybe not.” You're not going to let him weasel out of this one. “But you let the other ministers and court members walk all over him! Is Toge supposed to just sit there and take it? He's a prince, damn it!”

“Listen,” Satoru leans forward, his elbows on his desk as he uses his hands while explaining. “The ministers are just a bit frazzled, that's all. They think he forced you to skip the holiday banquet, and that he got you sick. He's good at his work, sure. But in their eyes? He just looks like a bad influence on you.”

You scoff.

“Now,” Satoru interrupts before you can say anything, “They were going to try and match you with prince Megumi—”

“Megumi's already engaged.”

“I know, I know. And that's why they're planning on pitching you with prince Yuji or princess Nobara.”

“I'm already with Toge.” You say sternly. “And what happened to not letting others make my decisions for me?”

“As far as those old goons are concerned, Toge is only the third best for you. ‘For the greatness of the empire’ and all that.” It doesn't escape you that he dodged your question. “They're going to try to push you apart until you break up or get hitched.” He leans back, crossing his arms on his chest. “Whichever comes first.”

“Why don't you stop them?” Frustrated, you run your hands through your hair. “Tell them I really like him and that they should leave him alone!”

“Sweetheart,” Satoru's tone becomes deeper, and you hate how it instantly makes you shut up. “The thing is, if Toge isn't capable of handling this, or if he backs out of your relationship because of it, he's not worth your time.”

You stare at him, unlinking. The thought of Toge leaving you had never occurred to you before, and Satoru could tell.

“I told you I would test him.” He shrugged. “It seems I'm testing you too.”

Rushing back to your office, you grab a piece of parchment and your pen from your desk. Not bothering to sit down as you write: Meet me at the gardens, by the tree. Midnight.

You fold it and hastily stuff it into an envelope. Delicately melting wax, you stamp your seal onto it before calling for your most trusted maid.

Handing her the letter, you instruct her, “Deliver this to prince Toge and prince Toge only. If anyone hinders you or attempts to read it, report back to me immediately. Go.”

She bows, and exits the room.

That night, Toge arrived before you. You note that he has a penchant for being early as he reaches to squeeze your hand. He looks you over to check if you're alright, and despite seeing nothing of concern, he asks anyway, ‘Are you okay?’

“We need to talk.” You nervously purse your lips. “The courtiers, the ministers... My brother. They've been making your work difficult.”

He sighs. ‘You found out.’

“You didn't tell me!” You rest a hand on his cheek, absentmindedly grazing your thumb over the marks near his mouth. “Do you understand what they're trying to do?”

‘Testing me.’

“Yes.” A lump forms in your throat. “Satoru said it's until you give up on me, or if you... propose.”

Heart racing, your hands can't stop fiddling with things. His face. His hair. The fastenings of his suit. “I'm just so worried. I care a great deal about you, and I just wanted to ask if you're enduring this because you want to.” You bite your lip in thought. “If it's because you're sure about... me.”

You can't look at him. You suddenly feel foolish. You should have given it a night and slept on it to gather your thoughts. You should have—

Toge embraces you. Everything stops.

You take in the view of the gardens over his shoulder. It was dark, and there was barely any light save for the stars twinkling above. You closed your eyes and let yourself be held.

Pulling away, he doesn't seem as fazed as you do, if at all. He turns to you slowly, and after taking a deep breath...

‘Marry me, then.’

You choke on air.

“Wh-what?!” A warmth creeps into your cheeks. “What are you—”

He places his hands on your shoulders and stares into your eyes. He gives you a look and mouths, ‘Breathe.’ And you do.

Once you've calmed down, he begins to explain.

‘We can come forward and make a statement that we've been seeing each other with marriage in mind. Which...’ He pauses, suddenly shy. ‘I have. I've been thinking about swearing everything to you... Intertwining my future with yours.’

‘I know it's only been a few months, so we could have a long engagement if you want. For us to get to know each other more. And if—’ Toge's hands freeze, his movements are slow as if the next words pain him.

‘...If you decide to break off the engagement, I will not force you to stay with me.’

You immediately stop his hands, holding them tightly with your own.

“Toge... I wouldn't even consider this with anyone else,” You feel genuinely happy as you smile at him. “But I'm willing to try. With you. Only you.”

He glows in a way that reminds you of when you first met. His expression is soft as if he's melting, and he smiles at you brightly. You think of how lucky you are that he looks at you this way.

‘This isn't the way I wanted it to happen, but...’

Toge picks a small, white flower from a bush nearby. It faintly reminds you of the butterfly that had flown to him the last time you were here together. His eyes are focused and he frowns in concentration as he fiddles with the stem. Your heart stutters as he makes... a delicate ring.

He kneels.

You say yes.

⋆｡˚ 🌸 ˚｡⋆｡˚✨˚｡⋆

A letter from you and Toge arrives on Satoru's desk the next day.

‘Dearest brother,

Please approve this statement that prince Toge and I have been seeing each other, and that we have decided to get engaged. You will find the formal document stamped with our seals attached to this letter.

We expect your approval posthaste, and I will not consider any objections. Please let us know when you will be available to discuss the engagement ceremony.’

“Your highness, what should we do with these documents you had forged?”

“Oh. Hand them over.” Satoru waves a hand to dismiss the attendant after retrieving the files.

He gets up from his desk and walks to the fireplace. “I can't believe he proposed before I could falsely accuse him of treason.” He tsks and throws the documents into the fire.

His eyes find a framed photograph on the fireplace mantel. It was of him and you as children. Satoru was laughing after you ran to him for a hug. His gaze grows sad yet understanding... He won't be the first person you'll turn to anymore when you get married.

Sighing, he considers that he should be thankful you chose someone determined and true like Toge. But then Satoru grins.

“I suppose I can always mess with him as his brother-in-law.”

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#inumaki toge x reader #inumaki toge fluff #toge x reader #inumaki toge oneshot #jujutsu kaisen fluff #toge fluff #inumaki toge imagine #inumaki imagines #inumaki x y/n #inumaki x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #inumaki toge royalty au #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toge x you #togenabi-toge-02

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alearicci · 9 months

Text

“what the hell, ricciardo?!” – DR3

pairings: daniel ricciardo x fem!norris!girlfriend; daniel ricciardo x girlfriend!reader; daniel ricciardo x y/n

summary: You are the older sister of Lando Norris who is secretly dating his former teammate, Daniel Ricciardo. What will the secrets lead to?

warnings: my grammar 🫣, a little bit dirty talk, secret relationship

note: ask me anything <3

reblogs and comments pls ♡

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You stood in front of a large mirror in your and Daniel's house and looked at yourself with interest. Your reflection looked at you expectantly, a mixture of nervousness and confidence flickered in your brown eyes. You spent hours carefully preparing for this event, making sure that every detail of your appearance radiated elegance and sophistication. Your long brown curls fell to your shoulders in loose waves, framing your delicate facial features, and light makeup accentuated your natural beauty.

Your outfit was nothing but luxury. You were wearing a stunning floor-length dress made of the finest silk, its deep royal blue shade complemented your porcelain complexion. The dress hugged your curves in all the right places, emphasizing your slender figure, and a daring thigh-high slit added seductiveness. The bodice was decorated with intricate beads that sparkled under the soft light of the chandelier, as if reflecting the stars in the night sky.

Elegant stiletto shoes decorated with delicate crystals that shimmered with each graceful step completed your look. On your wrist you wore a minimalistic diamond bracelet, the shimmer of which matched the brilliance of your eyes. You have spared no expense in creating an image that would charm and make an indelible impression on anyone who gets in your way.

Today there was a party on the occasion of the recent Grand Prix victory and the last birthday of your boyfriend, the man of your whole life - Daniel Ricciardo. You knew how much he craved it, how he devoted himself to training and came home so tired that he could hardly walk to the shower. Your heart has always ached because of how much he has to go through to achieve heights. Constant discussions, angry comments under posts, wishes about failures at races - does he really deserve this? Your smiling boy, your happiness, your very true love.

Shaking your head, chasing away the unpleasant thoughts that appeared, you smiled tightly and looked in the mirror again. The outfit turned out to be quite good, you really look great. Numerous hours spent in shops and beauty salons have done you good.

Suddenly, out of the blue, there was a knock on the door. You flinched a little, because it was too loud and unexpected.

"Babe?" On the other side of the door, the sonorous voice of your beloved rang out. "The guests will be here soon, are you ready?"

"Oh. Yeah. I'm on my way."

"Can I come in?"

"Yes, you can."

Ricciardo didn't keep himself waiting, and a second later the door opened and you turned to him, smiling to the tips of your ears.

"Ooooh shiiiit. It looks like I'll have to postpone the party until tomorrow, and spend time with my beautiful girl today." He said grinning and walked up to you.

Standing in front of you, he first just stood in front of you and looked into your eyes for about a minute.

Devils were clearly visible in his eyes. Devils that simultaneously showed his love for you and desire to possess you.

Dan grinned, oh my God, just from that grin, you feel like your knees are about to give way, then, smoothly lowered his hands to your waist and slowly pulled you closer to him, as if stretching this moment.

He bent down to kiss you, but you gently stopped him by putting your finger to his lips.

"Hey, hey, hey, take your time, baby. I've already painted my lips with my favorite lipstick, so no kissing!" You explained and witnessed how Dan's playfulness quickly evaporated, replaced by a slight bewilderment. He snorted in displeasure and slid down, squeezing his hands tighter on your hips.

"I hate it when you use this terrible invention of mankind. I love the taste of your lips so much, and you paint them with this tasteless lipstick."

"And this was said by my daniel, who ate my raspberry-scented lipstick the other day."

"Hahaha yeah. But at least it was delicious. And in general, I didn't eat, but used it for its intended purpose."

You laughed and grabbed the strong shoulders of your Aussie. He bent down to your neck and ran his nose over it. His hot breath burned your skin and made your whole body goosebumps. Daniel gently bites the tender skin of the neck, and then runs his tongue over the wound and kisses, as if apologizing without words.

You had very fair skin and it was very difficult to hide such manifestations of love. This could be understood by how carefully you covered up the hickeys left by him last night with foundation and how they still remained visible. Daniel himself knew perfectly well that today you would need to attend his party in the status of a family friend, not his girlfriend, but knowing this did not stop him.

Yes. You've been hiding your relationship. You were the older sister of his former teammate, Lando Norris. As Ric himself likes to say and repeat, he fell in love with you from the very first meeting, but did not dare to admit this to Lando, and to you, of course. Maybe the reason was that Lando took great care of you as his own sister and often jokingly threatened his friends that if they became victims of her love torments, his revenge would be cruel. Or maybe he just couldn't figure out for a long time what he really feels for you.

But at the moment, you've been secretly dating for almost a year. It's amazing how it happened that neither the media, nor the family, nor Lando himself have yet realized that you are together. For them, you continued to be good friends. It was in your favor, because another reason for a secret relationship was just the same media. They are often the cause of the breakup of many couples and it happens that they watch couples too closely. So you continue to work, pretend and live in your secluded house when Daniel is free from racing and training and when you are not busy with your work.

"Oh my God, Daniel!" Finally, you shout jokingly. "Stop biting me, soon there won't be a place on me where there won't be traces of your bites, Ricciardo!"

"Honey, you mean you don't like it? In that case, you need to learn how to lie. You're doing pretty badly right now."

"You're insufferable, Dan."

"I know. And you love me."

"Yes. I love you."

"I know, my beautiful. Well. I will say that you helped me with the selection of the costume, if anyone has questions about how you ended up here among the first." He finished, but continued to hold you in his hands.

"Again, again a lie."

"I know, honey. I hate lying. And, wait a minute, it's practically not a lie, you really helped me pick up this suit."

You smiled warmly and rested your head on his shoulder.

"I'm waiting for the moment when I can officially call you my girl in front of everyone." he said in a hoarse whisper and kissed the top of your head.

"But then my beloved brother will look askance at us."

"Oh my God, I've already endured these looks when we were on the same team, because I often overtook him."

"Hey, he's good too!" you pretended to be indignant and lightly hit him on the leg with your knee.

"But no better than me."

"No one can compare with you, but Lanny is very good both on and off the track."

"Will anyone meet us in this house at all?" A voice was heard from below and you instinctively recoiled from your lover. The grievances belonged to Dan's good friend and his current partner, Max Verstappen. You immediately thought that he probably didn't come alone, but with his girlfriend Kelly.

"Oh, Maxie. Let's go meet."

"Danny. Are you sure? Maybe I'll come out later?"

"He knows that you and I are good friends, there will be no problems. Let's say you're very punctual."

♡♡♡

Time passed, more and more guests came. You and Daniel kept an appropriate distance, no hands on the waist, kisses and other things that could reveal your secret. It was hard, even if it has already become a habit for you. You really wanted to touch him, feel the warmth of his hands, hear the scent of his expensive cologne. You really wanted you to be an ordinary couple.

You've already gone down too and managed to say hello to many who came. First of all, you approached Daniel's parents, who came to celebrate their son's triumph. You were in a very close and trusting relationship with Mr. and Mrs. Ricciardo, they treated you as a close family friend. But they didn't even know that their son was head over heels in love with you.

Grace, Daniel's mom, recently, "in secret", said that Daniel likes you. At that time, you had already met, so you couldn't help but smile shyly and thanked the kind woman for this secret. Now I have to hide a secret from her.

Now you were chatting with her on the sidelines from everyone and she was telling you a funny story from Dan's childhood.

"Can you imagine? Then he firmly decided that he would become a racer. I'm afraid my heart just won't stand it soon, he's working so hard in training and taking risks on the track that I'm not moving away from sedatives."

"Ooooh.. Mrs. Ricciardo, as I understand you. Sometimes you want to hit him on the head with a pillow and..." for a moment you were silent.

... hug him and say that you are very worried.

... kiss him and tell him that you will always be there.

"I... Tell him to stop making his beloved mom nervous!" You finally finished the sentence and laughed along with Grace.

"Oh, you're right, my dear."

"Oh, Mrs. Ricciardo, I have to leave you for a while, I need to powder my nose." You really urgently needed to go to the bathroom to fix your makeup.

"Of course, no problem, sweetheart. I'll go find something delicious for now."

Daniel, who was standing nearby and talking enthusiastically with George Russell, who was also invited to the party, heard that you said you would go to the bathroom.

He realized that this was his chance to be with you for a few minutes.

When you excused yourself to go to the toilet, the urge became too strong to resist. Daniel carefully followed you, his heart pounding wildly. When he saw you disappear into the lavish lavatory, Ricciardo carefully followed you, making sure that no one noticed his departure. He found you standing at the sink, looking at yourself in the mirror.

Unable to contain his longing any longer, he cautiously approached you from behind, hugging you around the waist. You flinched slightly, surprised by his presence.

"I couldn't be in the company of these celebrities anymore. I needed to feel you in my arms. Moreover, I can clearly see how my mother sees you as her future daughter-in-law."

"Danny, you can't go on like this! We have to behave ourselves tonight. Not us, but you!"

"Oh. I know, but seeing that you look so amazing here, all I want to do is hold you to me. Just for a moment."

"Okay, just for a minute. But we have to be careful.

You hugged each other tightly for a few stolen moments, cherishing the intimacy you craved madly, knowing that you would soon have to part again.

Ricciardo tightened his embrace, feeling the warmth of your body on his. You stood there for a few blissful seconds, enjoying the intimacy of the moment. Then he gently kissed you on the forehead, and then went down to your cheeks and lips. But none of you guessed what would happen next.

Meanwhile, Lando also decided to go to the bathroom to fix his tie. Disappointed with the way it sat on his collar, he yanked it, muttered a few playful curses under his breath and headed to the bathroom to get a dose of confidence from the mirror.

To his surprise, he saw Daniel and you, his friend and sister, in a passionate embrace. Lando's eyes widened and a mischievous grin appeared on his face.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" he said, leaning against the bathroom door and folding his arms.

Hearing the voice of your beloved younger brother, you abruptly pulled away from Daniel's lips and felt a blush appear on your cheeks.

"Oops," Dan said jokingly. "I'll explain everything now, Lando. "Ummm... I just came to help y/n with... her dress. It had to be fixed, you know?"

You intervened with a shy smile:

"Yes, yes, the lightning got stuck, and Daniel, being a gentleman, came to the rescue!"

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced by the story, but couldn't help but make a joke.

"And the kiss became a payment for help? Come on, guys. Don't make me regret introducing you to him, Miss Norris!" Lando exclaimed, no longer holding back his laughter.

"Uh... yeah?"

"Of all the people, it had to be my former teammate and my sister? Damn God, how long have you been dating? Do not deny that you are dating, otherwise I will definitely swear."

"Almost a year," Daniel replied and smiled his trademark smile.

"Oh my God, sis, I thought we should share everything!"

"Sorryyy."

When they returned to the event, Lando couldn't help but grin mischievously, teasing Daniel: "Just remember, Ricciardo, I will always watch!"

Winking, Dan cheekily replied: "Oh, I wouldn't expect anything less, Norris!"

#f1 imagine #oneshot #f1 fandom #f1 fanfic #formula one #drabble #dr3 x reader #dr3 #daniel ricciardo supremacy #daniel ricciardo x reader #danny ric #ric3 #daniel ricciardo #formula 1 #lando norris #nor4

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marthawrites · 1 year

Text

The Gift That Keeps Giving

Daemon Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen x fem reader

Word count: 3.8k+

Can be read as a one shot but reads best as part 2 to A Gift for the Queen (pls be kind it was the second thing I wrote ♥)

About: You've happily stayed with Daemon and Rhaenyra since her birthday. They have a little game up their sleeve to play with you.

Includes: Explicit sexual content!! *takes a really deep breath* involving typical canon incest, M/F/F content, p in v, female masturbation, pussy slapping, fingering, oral (m & f receiving), forced orgasm, orgasm denial, overstimulation, some degradation, manhandling, crying, adult language, and aftercare. With a sweet ending. WHEW. That's a mouthful. Idk friends there's a lot going on here and if I missed anything I apologize!

Note: Hello lovely reader! I'm not in charge of your imagination, but I write with the implications that Westerosi men go in raw and are uncut. Do with that info however you like. As always, reader is nondescript! Huge shout out to my girl Eliza who is just fucking awesome and I love her. This has been stewing in my brain forever and I finally was able to get it out. It's filthy. Please, enjoy! ♥

While it wasn't home, Dragonstone remained lovely. What made it even more lovely was the attention Rhaenyra bestowed upon you during the early mornings and late into the evenings. The Black Queen, despite (or perhaps in spite of) the neverending amount of responsibilities she had, had an insatiable taste for pleasure.

Her body showed all the signs of motherhood: faded stretch marks, widened hips, heavy breasts, and a soft cushion of fat around her middle. If she was beautiful before, deemed "The Realm's Delight" by her uncle-husband, then she was even more so now. Motherhood fit Rhaenyra. And in turn she was a good mom, too.

You couldn't imagine how she balanced everything on her plate. Being a caring mother, a Queen against an upsurer king, a wife… How?

Daemon and Rhaenyra, like many in their ancestry, could only be sated by the fire of a fellow Targaryen. Twin flames from somewhere deep and ancient in the earth. Together they burned. You were certain it was the passion they shared in their intimate moments that kept them in check; a contained bonfire instead of rampant wildfire.

The Rogue Prince, still standing by what he said the first night you shared with them, had yet to let you have his cock. "Whores aren't deserving of my seed." As much as you savored every second of pleasure with Rhaenyra, you ached for him.

Doing as you were told, you sat in one of their chairs and were allowed to merely watch as Rhaenyra rode her husband until sweat sheened on her skin and her legs shook from exertion. It was torture. Daemon had a beautiful cock. Thick, solid, and forever eager to be wrapped around his wife's needy cunt; seemingly as many times as she'd like. And there you were. Both of your legs draped over the arms of the chair to expose yourself wide open, fingers fucking into yourself at the show, unable to reach the kind of climaxes Rhaenyra experienced. Your fingers were half useless despite their best efforts.

"You're being awfully quiet over here," Daemon crooned, walking over to you once he and his wife were finished. Sweat sheened on him too. "Is your Queen fucking her prince so boring?"

You'd been far from quiet. A blush had taken home in your cheeks and your folds glistened with evidence of orgasm. "Never boring," you breathed in reply, looking up at Daemon from beneath your lashes.

He tutted and swatted your hand away from your center. "You are. Perhaps you need to be reminded just how loud you can get." Bringing two fingers up to your mouth he pushed past your lips until his Targaryen signet squished against the corner of your mouth. He smirked at your eager acceptance. He planted his other hand upon the back of your chair, eyes keen on you.

Were your gag reflex any weaker it would have stuttered around his abrupt intrusion. The shadow of his bulk looming over you caused a whine of anticipation to escape your throat, vibrating around his fingers.

He pulled them out and a lewd little line of spittle broke between your lip and the tip of his finger.

"My prince…," you purred, heart thumping wildly beneath your flushed chest. "I do think I need to be reminded. I haven't had a cock in sooo long… my fingers can only go so far. They are much smaller than you." Unintentionally – or perhaps wholly intentionally – your hips squirmed in a silent beg for any sort of attention he might give you.

Dark amusement swelled his pupils. "Small and pathetic," he said sardonically. "Can you even reach where you're begging to be touched?" With his question he delivered a quick smack to the fullness of your spread cunt.

You yelped, surprised, eyes popping open as a second slap followed. "A-ah!" Your legs closed in an attempt to shield yourself from his touch.

"Play nice with our sweet girl," Rhaenyra chimed from the bed. Amusement laced her words too. "We want her to be eager to play later. Isn't that right, husband?"

Flicking your attention to the marital bed you saw that Rhaenyra didn't look up or anything else – content to lay and relax in bliss for a few moments longer before getting ready for the day.

Daemon sniggered, one big hand easily parting your legs open. You weren't squeezing too hard, merely had your thighs pressed together to keep yourself protected from further taunts. "That's right," he replied to his wife over his shoulder before turning his gaze back to you. “Our favorite, and prettiest, whore.”

The weight of his gaze sent your own pupils swelling. You smiled at his praise. “Always happy to be in service of my Queen. And King.” The Prince Consort liked it when you called him that. He liked it even more when it spilled from your pretty lips in a beg for him to fuck you – a gift he still hadn’t given you. Most, though, he liked it when you and Rhaenyra half whispered it on your knees between sharing his cock.

A third slap was delivered to your cunt and you barely managed to muffle a startled whimper behind a bitten lip. “How quickly do you think you could come on my fingers?” He tilted his head in question, eyes still sharp on yours. In the same motion he squeezed the back of your chair for extra support while pushing two calloused digits into your yearning center. He knew right where to find that delightfully sensitive spot along your walls. He sought it and abused it. And, to make matters all the more lascivious, his thumb worked your clit in tandem. “You won’t get a second chance, girl. If you wish to come, then come. Now.” His pace was brutal. And wonderful. He had no shame when it came to pleasure; the obscenity of the wet slaps from his finger fucking sent you over the edge quickly.

The coil of pleasure in your belly snapped with all the force it had been wired with; a straining haste that left you gasping as if Daemon’s hand were wrapped around your throat. A moment ago you were merely under his gaze. Now, your thighs squeezed his forearm as bliss washed over you in hot waves of desperation. You whined a string of moans so sweet it sent the towering prince to near purrs.

“Say thank you,” he said, pulling his fingers from your clenching depths.

“Thank you, my prince.”

That is how Daemon and Rhaenyra left you for the day. Alone to do as you please; eager for their return. Duty called and kept them away until after sundown.

“Will Daemon not want to be present for this, your Grace?” You were barely able to whisper between heated pants.

Rhaenyra had propped pillows beneath your backside to give herself a better angle to your soaked core. Her arms were looped around your thighs so she could support herself upon her elbows. She was happily face down into you with her ass up and pointed to the door. Slowly, she lapped, and slowly, she sucked, seeming to be more than content to have you as many times as she pleased. Your fingers curled in her soft hair. It was in a single haphazard braid and you didn’t feel guilty for messing it up anymore than it already was.

A playful hum vibrated against your folds. “Even in this room I am still the Queen. If my lord husband isn’t happy with what he sees upon arrival, then, well…,” she paused, thinking. “I suppose he won’t get to play.” She returned her attention to you and your eyes rolled closed at the skill of her mouth.

Just on the edge of your pleasure, right before you were flung into the crest, the door opened and Rhaenyra looked over her shoulder to see who would come in so rudely. The peak she’d been working you towards was gone in an instant. If you were lucky, it wouldn’t take long to reach again.

“Sȳz bantis, ābrazȳrys,” good evening wife, Daemon said softly in High Valyrian – their ancestral language a thing you still couldn’t understand. “Emare kirimves?” having fun He asked with a quirk of brow.

“Kessa,” yes she replied, grinning.

By now the door was latched and locked behind him. “Ȳdra daor ivestragī nyke keligon ao,” don’t let me stop you he said and he stepped further into the room and began to disarm and undress.

Were these two ever not horny? You thought privately to yourself. Almost daily, and sometimes multiple times a day, they coupled. You’d witnessed firsthand their sex life was far from boring – and that’s only what you’ve seen! Surely you hadn’t witnessed all that their passion could bring.

“Ziry's mazilībagon, valzȳrys,” she’s set, husband Rhaenyra said with a glimmer you hadn’t seen in her eyes before. Her attention turned fully to you, then, a smolder behind her vibrancy. “Tonight it’s my turn to watch,” she cooed, delicately kissing your sensitive bud in departure.

A shudder ran through you at the combination of her words and lips. Could she really mean…? Was tonight the night you’d been waiting for since arriving at Dragonstone with the Rogue Prince? Excitement shot through you as Rhaenyra moved from the bed to the chair you normally sat in. Even fully nude she looked like a queen should. Poised. Regal: a glimmer of something mischievous or unhinged – perhaps both – right there behind her eyes.

Daemon, now nude, wordlessly beckoned you over. He stood at the edge of the bed: every burn and scar of his seasoned warriors' body on display in the low light of their room. You obeyed with barely any other thought in your head. The same glint as his wife's shown in his face. You were nothing but a play thing for them. A pretty little bird for them to clip and make sing. If Dragonstone – their room – were your cage, you cared little. Who would ever complain about being in service to the Black Queen and her Prince Consort?

"Kiss it," he said evenly, a bite of sternness behind his tone.

He wasn't yet hard. Even his flaccid manhood made your thighs clench. It was as handsome as the rest of him and you wasted no time in trailing warm kisses along his cock, reveling in the sensation of him growing harder beneath your attention. "Gonna let me have it all for myself tonight?" You asked, pumping along his length with a spit-slick hand. Your kisses were open mouthed and wet, tongue accompanying here and there.

"Be a good little whore and quit teasing. If you want it hard then make it hard. Stop this playing," Daemon sneered down at you, pinching your chin between thumb and forefinger to turn your eyes up to him. "Have you had a good day lazing about like a spoiled cat?" Head tilted with his question, traditional silver tresses catching moonlight. "No thoughts in your pretty head… daydreaming about being bent over and fucked. How does it feel to haven't anything to fret over?" A mock laced his tone – bitterness and amusement alike.

You merely smiled up at him. Taunting. "Boring…," you replied before taking his tip between your lips. He tasted warm and salty. Your head bobbed forward and backward as you worked him up the way you knew he liked it. Musk filled your nose and your core instantly clenched. You wanted nothing more than to have him thrusting in and out of you: claiming you, taking you, using you for his pleasure. And if you were lucky, Rhaenyra would join too.

He laughed dryly. "A spoiled little bitch." He twitched in your mouth. By now his cock was fully hardened and slobbery; your eyes glassy from need and strain. Whether prompted by your words or a wave of lust, he grabbed the sides of your arms, squeezing harshly, and maneuvered you around to his liking.

Before you could put it all together, you were on your hands and knees atop the bed with Daemon looming behind you. His cock seared your skin. You gasped wholly surprised and wanton as you looked up to where Rhaenyra still sat and watched; purple eyes alight with wickedness. "Your Grace…?" You asked, spine bending down tantalizingly to prop your ass firmer against the Rogue Prince. Lust consumed your blood and you gripped the plush bedclothes, cunt throbbing with anticipation.

"It's time for you to have your fun. And for me to have mine," she replied, lips pouting in a smile before flashing her teeth in a delighted expression. In her hand she held a phallic shaped object and you knew exactly what it was. The base portion that was meant to be held sparkled with an array of dazzling cut gemstones. Rubies, sapphires, emeralds. The toy the Black Queen meant to fuck herself with gleamed with enough wealth to buy youself a comfortable new life – and yet for her it was merely another thing. An object to use for pleasure as her husband fucked her sweet little pet. She looked at Daemon with a tilt of her head, her body lax and open for the voyeuristic experience. Whatever was shared between them was private, meant for only husband and wife, and Rhaenyra bit her bottom lip in anticipation.

Daemon’s hands gripped your hips and your heart thumped to a new high. Somewhere in the back of your mind you wondered how many other women – or men, if the rumors you'd heard of the dragon prince were true – were in this position before. Words couldn't even form on your tongue. All you could manage was a sultry connection with Rhaenyra as your eyes stayed on her. Eager. Excited. Fucking elated.

She began circling her clit right as Daemon lined himself up with you. His tip was swollen with as much need as coursed through you, and he pushed himself into your saturated core.

Immediately your jaw slackened with a lusty gasp. He was so big, and so thick, and so hot, that the air was forced from your lungs. He pushed deeper and your eyelids fluttered, fingers gripping into the smooth quilts. With a final flex of his hips and thighs, he was fully hilted into you.

The weight of his torso fell over your back. "If I were any smaller you'd be loose around me, whore," he hissed by your ear, one big calloused hand palming up the length of your spine until it reached the back of your neck. He held you there, mindful of his finger placement, before dragging his hips backwards.

You barely had time to miss the delirious stretch of him, because when he snapped forward into you, an unrestrained moan shuddered through your form. "O-oh! Yes, Daemon, please…!"

He grunted as his grip tightened around your hip, fingers sinking into the soft flesh that padded there. "Was it your Queen who got this cunt so wet? Or was it me?" He asked, the slaps of his pelvis against your asscheeks quickly filling the bedchamber. The natural clench of your body had his already hot blood boiling. The desire to relentlessly pound into you for his own high and pleasure clouded his mind. As much as he'd love to give into that primal part of himself, he wouldn't. There wasn't any fun in that. At least the kind of fun he and Rhaenyra were after.

"Both," you barely managed to say. He'd hardly been fucking you for longer than a few moments and already he had you cockdrunk and ready to drool into their expensive bedding. His pace and pressure hit you at all the right angles. You’d been with Rhaenyra and Daemon exclusively for a couple moons now, and you hadn’t the satisfaction of a cock in that time. The backs of your legs tightened. Your toes curled.

A dark laugh vibrated out from Daemon. "Look at you... already dazed out on my cock. Little slut. You don't get to finish yet," he said with a firm slap to your backside, pulling out and leaving you empty right before climax could wash over you. "Watch your Queen's perfect cunny take her toy." Pulling you by the hair at the back of your head, he turned your attention forward as he slid into you once again. His pace, while still as powerful, was slower this time. His balls slapped against your clit to add another level of obscenity to the lewdness of the night’s event.

The denial of your orgasm seemed to spur Rhaenyra on even more than she already was. The smooth leather wrap of the dildo shone with her slick. Her hips rolled in tandem with her wrist, and both were accented by her pants and whimpers of solo bliss. Pleasure relaxed her face. She grinned at both of you.

Wonderful tension coiled in the pit of your belly. Warm, and tight, and tingling, echoes of it reverberated throughout your entire body and your eyes closed with the sensations. Daemon’s grip hardly laxed, yet you still found the strength to push back against him to meet his thrusts. It was maddening. Beautifully maddening. Something – perhaps nothing – changed in his pace and the embers he’d been stoking threatened to combust. “I’m gon–... fuck, please, my prince… Don’t stop!”

Instantly, he pulled out of you and stopped. The entirety of his length was shiny with your arousal; even the hair of his groin was damp with you. He laughed when you turned your head over your shoulder to glare at him with wetted eyelashes. “You should see yourself right now. Pathetic.”

Rhaenyra’s ministrations grew hotter and sloppier, climax seeming to threaten her as well. Unlike you, she didn’t have anyone controlling the reins. The Black Queen gave into her pleasure and allowed orgasm to take her. Panting, shuddering, and glowing, she was lovely in the throes of her peak.

The squelching of her bejeweled toy sent Daemon half-feral. He flipped you over on your back, leering down at you as he squished your thighs flat against your breasts. You were bent in half and each thrust led him to the deepest parts of your cunt. You half screamed behind your hand, jolts of white hot ecstasy webbing throughout your senses as he fucked you. “Cover your mouth again and I’ll fucking smack you,” he huffed between throaty growls, relishing the sight of you and his wife alike. She was fucking herself again, greedy for more.

This had to be part of the game they were playing. The build up of your peak only to be denied at the last second… what a cruel thing to do. Emotion swam in your eyes until they were glassy from unshed tears. “Please let me come!”

Again, he pulled out from you. Again, you glared with a half sob. The muscles of your legs shook and your scalp felt fuzzy. He wasn’t going easy on you and you wondered how long he could do this before he drowned beneath a crest too. Tears pricked from the outsides of your eyes to roll behind your ears. He almost lost it right then and there. “No,” he smirked coldly. Muscles flexed and tightened as he positioned you up on your knees: his front to your back, you facing Rhaenyra, one arm holding you flush to him as the other gripped your hip. “She likes it when you cry. Let’s show her more of those pretty tears, hm?” He rasped by the shell of your ear, pushing into your overly sensitive center.

A sheen of sweat covered Rhaenyra. The fingers of her free hand played with her clit now, too, edging her bliss as long as she could.

Daemon palmed your breasts and squeezed your nipples. His pace was near brutal now; sweat slicked between your bodies through the control and exertion. “Gods… it’s too much! Please, your Grace, my prince…!” You begged through broken moans. Just as your body began shuddering against Daemon’s, he stopped all he was doing and let his cock slip out of your bullied walls. You sobbed fully this time. Tears fell down your face. Desperation washed over you. They were cruel – both of them – never had they strung you along like this.

“Poor sweet little whore. Begging and crying. It should be your Queen you’re begging to. Let’s give her one more orgasm, yeah? Then maybe she’ll let you finish on your prince’s cock.”

As if together, Rhaenyra’s self-driven thrusts matched Daemon’s as he began taking you yet again. You couldn’t think straight. Could hardly keep your blurry eyes open. You cried out whimpered moans of their names and begged through broken syllables. It was too much. All of it was too much. Daemon’s cock felt so fucking good it took everything you could muster to not give in to your body’s primal desires.

Fresh tears clumped your eyelashes. Rhaenyra found her second climax at the sight of them. Her chest heaved with the force of it; soft abdomen rolled with the release. Creamy slick coated her dildo and her actions finally slowed before stopping; core too sensitive to take anymore.

“Come now, girl,” Daemon cooed, fingertips swiping and circling over your clit. You didn’t need to be told twice. Once your orgasm took hold of you, you nearly blacked out with its intensity. Never in your life had you experienced something like this, and if you weren't already teary you would have cried real tears with the release of such a high build up.

Your gripping and convulsing walls were too much for the Rogue Prince, too, and he barely pulled free from your depths to release his seed into the air. Ropes of it landed atop the bedding – white against the dark material – and he groaned like a beast at your back.

You slumped forward, wholly spent, and Daemon carefully moved from behind you. Laying on your belly you looked between Daemon and Rhaenyra, laughing. "Seven Hells… maybe next time there could be a little warning?"

Sweat and sex hung in the air and it took all of you a few moments to gather yourselves from the fervor of shared passion.

"That takes some of the fun out of it though," Rhaenyra answered after a few moments as she walked to you with a clean washcloth. She had a silk robe wrapped loosely around her. She bent to kiss your forehead. "You did very well for us tonight, little dove. If you truly wanted it to stop, you know all you needed was to say something."

"I know," you replied, cleaning yourself up. "Thank you."

"My lord husband wasn't too rough with you, was he?" She asked sincerely.

You laughed again and shook your head. "No, your Grace."

He smirked at your answer, as did Rhaenyra. "Good," she said. "We can all remember that for next time."

The three of you finished cleaning up with light-hearted chatter and soft touches. Afterwards, wine and a late night snack were shared. When sleep finally overcame you, all of you were a tangle of limbs and silk in the big bed.

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider a follow and reblog as I have plans to create and share more writings ♥

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#house of the dragon #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon smut #rhaenyra smut #daemyra #daemyra smut #daemon x rhaenyra x reader

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beachylupin · 6 months

Text

American Woman || Remus Lupin x American!Fem!Reader

jesus christ. i'm so sorry that it's taken me almost a month to update this story. i think i got very overwhelmed with posting all of it, and the whole entire thing just so happens to be like... 10k words and i frankly don't have time to go through and edit all of that right now. good for more parts, right? also SLOW BURN? please tell me that one of you picks up on it. pls. i wish i could promise that the next part won't be so long away, but i genuinely can't promise anything </3 as always, feedback is welcomed and appreciated <3 part 1 here, mb here word count: 3.4k warnings: this isn't necessarily happy, kind of stressful, a wee graphic (?), maybe like two swear words, quickly edited, i'm sorry

The Eldritch Manor had one bedroom with a double bed in the center of it and two dressers. Remus, who had already claimed one of the dressers, had given the bed to you since you were the “guest” in the safe house, but you had every intention of switching with him after his change in a week.

All the things the change did to a body was devastating, and you knew the small leather sofa wasn’t going to do any good for him or his already aching limbs.

Remus wasn’t young for his age. He was turning nineteen in a few months, but his body aged quicker due to the trauma it was put through every month, making his body at least thirty-five. He had a cane propped up against the wall near the front door that he hadn’t used yet, multiple first aid kits stacked under the bathroom sink, and cabinets full of prescription grade no-maj pain-killers, given to him out of love by his no-maj born friend.

He knew his body was much older than yours, and yet, he crammed himself onto the tiny, two-seater sofa in front of the fireplace the first night happily, telling you to sleep well.

You woke in the chilly bedroom and dressed casually: jeans and a thick, navy blue knit sweater. You paired it with wool socks, happy you had thought ahead and brought warm clothes.

The Manor was drafty, as you learned last night when you nearly froze yourself to sleep once you shut the bedroom door.

You poked your head out of the bedroom, seeing Remus still asleep on the couch, an open book laying on the ground next to him. His scarred face this peaceful was a comforting sight. Your heart clenched as he shifted, knowing this would most likely be his last good sleep for a week and a half, the moon getting fuller and fuller every night.

Remus looked so young; much younger than he had looked last night in the light of the fire. His lanky legs were curled up under him, sure to crack when he woke up and stretched. His cheek was squished against the arm, soft puffs of air blowing through his lips.

It had been a late night discussing both of your lives, mugs of tea warming your hands as you sat in the recliner across from Remus on the couch.

Remus had grown up in Wales under the protective shadow of his mother and father, Lyall and Hope. Hope was a muggle homemaker, and Lyall worked for the Ministry’s Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Since this department was so broad, it was very mismanaged, and the werewolf registry had gone unnoticed for a long time.

Fenrir Greyback was brought in for questioning after two muggle children were killed, their bodies showing signs of a werewolf attack. Greyback wasn’t registered, but Lyall recognized all the signs he showed, claiming that he was, indeed, a werewolf.

“Soulless!” Lyall had yelled during that hearing. “Evil, wretched creatures! They deserve nothing but suffering and death!”

He was then thrown from the hearing, ultimately sealing his son’s fate as Greyback was released that same day.

Greyback broke and entered into their home, turning Remus shortly before his fifth birthday, changing Lyall’s views on lycanthropy forever.

The Lupin’s became nomads, moving from small village to small village, trying to contain their child’s behavior by keeping him as a recluse. He had a loving home, but had never known friends before Hogwarts.

You, on the other hand, grew up in New York, in a small town near Lake Placid. Your upbringing was fairly normal. Your muggle father worked as a carpenter, whereas your mom worked for the Wizarding Resources Department for the Magical Congress of the United States in New York City. She was gone from the time you woke up until shortly after you went to bed most days.

Because of that, it was mainly you and your father, who treated you like you were made of solid gold. He was a fantastic chef, an amazing storyteller, and the reason why you were able to be independent in your young adult life, giving you the courage to stand on your own two feet.

Since your town was surrounded by woods, it was unsafe to go out at night in fear that the creatures of the forest would take you away.

You were nine when the howling you often heard far out in the forest came closer. They were outside in the streets of your town. In the homes of your neighbors.

What was to become of your friends? The girl down the street that invited you to her sixth birthday party? The boy you sat next to in second grade? The woman who handed out full-sized candy bars on Halloween?

Their homes were being ravaged by monsters.

Screams followed the howls, and the two of you did as you were supposed to: you hid under your bed until the streets got quiet again, and your muggle father, only armed with a shotgun, sat by the front door in wait.

Your house, miraculously, was untouched.

When the howls stopped, and the screams turned to cries, you crawled out from under your bed, finding your father horror-struck by the picture window, staring out at the carnage.

You couldn’t help but peek, seeing your neighbor boy, Lukas, writhing on the tar, his mother wailing as she tried to cover his exposed insides. He was your friend. The boy who taught you how to play ball.

How could they? Your little brain screamed. What kind of monster could do that? He was a child!

Your father pulled you away from the window, his eyes wide as he knelt down to look at you.

“Don’t blame the wolves, sweetheart,” he said, his voice grave. “Nobody has ever shown them kindness. They don’t know any better.”

You tiptoed to the kitchen, bringing your small suitcase, to begin brewing your first batch of wolfsbane for him.

You set up on the kitchen table and began carefully brewing the potion. Sure, it was difficult, but you could do it with your eyes closed at this point.

“Wolfsbane, betony, and a drop of dittany,” you mumbled to yourself, dropping it all in a cauldron before adding some water. You let it steep over the stove top, taking a peek back into the living room.

Remus was still asleep, mouth now open as his feet hung up and over the armrest. The blanket had fallen off of him at some point, leaving him in flannel bottoms and a plain, white t-shirt. How was he not freezing?

You checked your watch. You had about a minute before you needed to stir the potion and add bat spleen powder and another drop of dittany. Surely, you could put the blanket back over him.

Or would that be too presumptuous? That’s something a friend would do, right? Or a lover, for that matter. Was Remus even your friend? He could be even though you just met. He gave up the bed for you, and the two of you had spilled your life stories to one another. Surely, that meant something.

You shook your head at the thought, turning back to the burner to continue the potion.

Remus woke up near the end of your process, letting out a loud yawn as he stretched and sat up.

He saw you standing in the doorway of the kitchen, calling out, “You chilly? I can start another fire.”

You glanced over your shoulder, noticing him staring at you from the couch, his hair mused from sleep. Your cheeks started to burn as you looked back at the potion.

“If you want to, sure,” you said, eyes on the potion. “Otherwise, this is almost done, then I can do it.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he got up with a groan, taking a squat near the fireplace.

Your brain screamed as your cheeks continued to burn. Remus was a very handsome guy, but you weren’t supposed to feel anything for him, except maybe bad for his situation.

But he was kind, and you could tell he was the most gentle out of all of his friends you met last night. He seemed to care.

If you were going to feel anything for anyone in England, it was always going to be him.

A blue plume of smoke caught your attention. You pulled the small cauldron off the burner and strained it into a mug.

You turned around, watching Remus light the fire and take a seat on the couch, his brown eyes locking to yours as you entered the room.

You handed him the freshly brewed potion, taking a seat at his feet. “Drink up while it’s still warm,” you said, urging the mug to his lips. “It isn’t as bad when it’s warm.”

Remus’ nose crinkled. “You don’t understand how terrible it tastes.”

“I’ve tried it,” you said. “Just drink it, and I’ll make you some green tea.”

He sighed, throwing you a glare before downing the potion and holding back a gag. He thrusted the mug into your hands, his palms meeting his forehead as he groaned.

“See? Not as bad warm,” you teased, reaching out to pat his knee.

Remus shook his head. “‘S just as bad.”

“‘M sorry,” you cooed. “How do you want your tea?”

“Plain,” he muttered, his palms finally leaving his forehead. “Not green. Earl grey if possible.”

“Fresh out,” you said, having just thrown away the box last night. He groaned. “Do you want coffee instead?”

“Black?” He asked, perking up.

“I can do that,” you said. “You should get dressed. ‘M assuming we’ll be getting guests soon.”

He nodded and shuffled off into the bedroom while you walked back into the kitchen.

You heard a door open behind your back. Assuming it was Remus who might’ve forgotten something, you didn’t turn around, not wanting to seem like you were checking on him.

“Where’s that lass?” A bassy man shouted from the front door. “That American woman?!”

You almost screamed, peeking out from the kitchen.

The man standing at the door was a marvel. Despite his low and loud voice, he stood stout at just five and a half feet, he looked miniscule compared to the large man that barged in next to him..

Remus poked his head out of the bedroom, looking at you in the kitchen doorway, eyebrows furrowed.

As if he could sense your silent confusion, the short man laughed loudly. “I’m Demolcles Belby! I’m told you’re Bane,” he said then looked at Remus. “You must be Moony then?”

Remus smiled tightly and nodded once at the short man, glancing back at you before disappearing behind the bedroom door again, closing it.

Your heart fluttered at the nickname, and you nervously wiped your hands on your dark jeans as you crossed the small house.

“Hi, Mr. Belby,” you gushed, extending your hand toward him as you introduced yourself. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

“Ah, someone who shares my passion?” He said, his grip tight on your hand. “The pleasure is all mine!”

“They sent you? You’re Bane?!” The other man, who you assumed to be Mr. Moody from his gruff hmph, barked. “You’re just a kid!”

You stood straighter, taking the familiar insult with narrowed eyes. “You must be Mr. Moody? The one who wanted me to disapparate across the ocean?” You asked, extending your hand to him. “I’d like to think that I’m more than just a kid.”

Remus came back into the living room as Moody snubbed your hand. He was dressed in a dark green button up and jeans, staring at your extended hand, eyebrows furrowed.

“She’s much more than a kid, Alastor!” Belby shouted back, taking your hand into his. “She jus’ so happens to be the Congress’s most innovative potioneer! Why, you’re lookin’ at the lass who tried figurin’ out a way to produce wolfsbane potions at mass market value.”

Remus looked between you and the man before wandering into the kitchen for his promised cup of coffee.

“That’s expensive,” Moody scoffed, briefly glancing at Remus leaving before returning his attention to you. “You’d never be able to afford the resources without making it cost thousands of galleons.”

“Well, when you have a greenhouse filled with the most important ingredient, and almost everything else is locally sourced, it becomes a lot less expensive,” you said, a small smirk playing on your lips as he grumbled under his breath. “My only issue is preservation. Simply jarred? It spoils during the new moon. Canned? Possible since it won’t spoil, but not ideal… The taste is still there. Pill form? Now-”

“A wolfsbane pill?” Remus piped in, now standing next to Moody, a warm mug in his hands. “That’s genius.”

“I’d like to think it’s possible,” you said, your cheeks turning pink. “I just have to find out a way to turn the potion to powder and-”

“That’s not what you’re here for,” Moody cut you off, crossing his arms.

You shut your mouth, teeth grinding as you tightened your jaw. “I know that,” you quipped, standing straighter.

“All work and no play. Isn’t that, Bane?” Belby chuckled, slapping your back. “We should probably get crackin’, now shouldn’t we?”

You threw him a tight smile, nodding before looking at Remus, who was already staring.

“We-” Moody said, his attention turning to Remus. “-have our own matters to attend to.”

Remus nodded once, clearing his throat. “Right,” he mumbled, glancing back at you. “Good luck.”

You smiled slightly, mumbling, “Thanks, you too.”

That’s how the rest of the week continued. Moody would angrily drop Belby off so that the two of you could continue your work while Remus disappeared with him, wishing you well on his way out the door.

Belby wasn’t horrible to work with. Rather, he was a joy, just a bit too loud for your liking. Sure, he had a lot of interesting stories, and you genuinely learned a lot from him when he wasn’t shouting about his brother’s kid, but when someone shouts around you for eight hours a day, it starts to become grating.

Especially when trying to figure out a way to turn a liquid to a vapor while exploding at the same time.

You took many bathroom breaks just to get some peace and quiet, staring at yourself in the mirror and asking yourself if you had done the right thing in coming here.

Remus would always come back in the evening, usually having just eaten at the pub with his friends. His spirits seemed to be high every time he reappeared for the night, happy to be home even if you didn’t talk to him very much.

He’d quietly sit on the couch after stoking the fire and fixing himself a drink, his nose in one of the many books strewn along the floor. He’d always place a glass of water next to you as he passed, his scarred hand gently squeezing your shoulder.

You frankly had little time to eat or talk, your forehead in your hands as you stared at the papers in front of you. The now daily migraine thumped against your skull as you read and reread and reread the papers in front of you.

How on Earth were you going to craft a bomb? The whole project felt like a bite that was just too big to chew. You weren’t Oppenheimer.

“Hiya,” Remus cooed as soon as the front door opened on the evening of the full moon, smiling as he saw the back of your head tipped down over your makeshift desk by the fireplace, fingers on your temples. “Alright?”

You lifted your head, glancing over your shoulder to see him toeing off his shoes. “Sure,” you said, looking back at the papers. “How’s it going with you?”

Remus hummed in response, bringing a chair over to sit next to you. “Oh, you know,” he said, peeking over your shoulder with a small, lopsided smile. He smelled like whiskey, sour and sweet. “‘M just dandy.”

You checked your watch, looking at the low sun outside of the window. “Should probably make your potion,” you mumbled, your head in your hands again.

“‘S alright. I’ve got an hour,” he said absently, narrowing his eyes at the paper. “Have anything figured out yet?”

You dropped your hands from your shaking head, pushing yourself away from the desk. “I’m essentially trying to make mustard gas.” You got up, stretching out. “Pretty hard when it needs to be done now.”

“Who gave you that timeline?” Remus hummed, following you into the kitchen.

“Who do you think?” You asked, deadpan.

Remus snorted quietly. “You don’t like him, do you?”

You shot him a look. “Does anyone?”

“He’s not all bad,” he said, sitting at the table near the stove. “Just very… serious. Thinks he’s saving people, but in a way, he kind of is.” You shook your head, feeling his eyes on you as you filled the cauldron. “Thank you, by the way.”

“For what?” You asked, trying desperately to ignore the honeyed way he was looking at you from his seat, your heart beginning to feel sticky from it.

Remus shrugged, sitting straighter. “Making me the potion every day… Being here.”

You glanced at him, catching him confidently staring before turning your back on him as you reached for ingredients, hoping to hide your flushed cheeks. “Would you be alone otherwise?”

“I haven’t been alone for a transformation since I was fourteen,” he said quietly, finally averting his eyes as you busied yourself with the cauldron.

“Oh?” You asked, your turn to stare at the side of his head now. “Do you go to a pack, or-”

Remus smiled to himself, shaking his head. “James, Sirius, and Peter are animagi.”

“And they’d join you?” You asked, looking back at the boiling pot. “Rather brave-”

“Well, outside of the cage, yeah,” he mumbled, and you could feel his eyes on the side of your face again as your eyebrows quirked up in thought. “You’re not allowed downstairs tonight,” he said seriously.

You added the wolfsbane, catching his stern stare. “I’ve had my fair share of being face to face with a wolf before-”

“No,” he cut you off, his gaze hardening. “You’re not coming downstairs, alright? I’ll be fine.”

“Remus-”

“Promise me that you’ll stay upstairs.” His hand was on yours suddenly, squeezing, his eyes pleading.

You looked at your hands, heat burning in your ears. “I’ll stay upstairs,” you mumbled, your response making him squeeze your hand harder.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, dropping your hand.

A lull fell over the two of you as you waited for the potion to finish, checking your watch again. Moonrise was in half an hour, and he had to be downstairs before then. The potion should finish in time, but he should’ve drank it an hour ago for him to be asleep in time of his transition. You added an extra drop of dittany and a bit of wormwood, stirring it again in hopes that it would be fine.

The potion plumed blue smoke, and you strained it, handing him the mug. “Bottoms up.”

He drank it, his nose hardly scrunching before he checked his watch, standing. “Lock the door behind me?”

You nodded reluctantly, tailing him to the basement door. He started his descent to the cage in the cold, brick basement.

“Good luck,” you said from the top of the stairs.

He glanced over his shoulder, smiling tightly. “Sleep well, Bane.”

Locking the basement door was hard, almost as hard as hearing Remus lock himself in the cage, the keys hitting the bottom step with a dull thud as he threw them from the cage.

You hoped the potion would kick in at the right time, rendering the wolf tired enough to just fall asleep before any damage could be done.

You hurried to the bedroom, dragging your blanket and pillow into the living room and trading it for Remus’ things. He’d have no choice but to sleep in the bedroom.

You sat on the couch, your bed for the next week, waiting.

Waiting for a noise.

A feeling.

Anything.

A low howl started from the basement, filling the house. Your heart sank. It didn’t kick in in time.

Another howl, this time, it sounded like a wail, rang through, followed by another, and another.

Was he crying? The wolf was crying.

You left Remus to suffer alone in a basement for the first time in five years.

You stood, pacing, as the cries turned to growls. You grabbed the keys and went to the basement door, standing in front of it. He made you promise to stay upstairs.

You couldn’t break that promise, even if he was alone.

You didn’t dare cross him twice.

Your eyes filled with tears as something crashed against the steps, another howl coming from the basement. Sinking against the door, you closed your eyes, your face in your hands.

If you couldn’t even get a potion that you’ve been making for years right for someone who hated what they were, why would you think you could try to help a whole group of ferals who enjoyed it?

Fuck.

taglist: @ttulipwritezz @jasontoddsmentaldisorders @acciotwinz @lilianelena39 @prongsprincessworld @hawkins-2000 @ginseng-green-tea

#remus lupin #part two #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x american!fem!reader #remus lupin angst #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fic

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wreckedandpolemic · 12 days

Note

87 and 57 with matty pls

my kink is karma, part ii - matty healy

(mdni) in which you finally, finally take matty up on his offer. 1392 words.

warnings: mentions of cheating, unprotected sex, mild degradation

You can’t stop fucking thinking about Matty. You’re doomed, damned to hell, every syllable of his name worn smooth like seaglass as you turn it over in your mind. You’ve lost count of how many times your fingers have hovered over his contact, his name in your phone having gone from DO NOT ANSWER!!!! to DO NOT TEXT!!!! to matty in the six months since your birthday.

Picking fights with your boyfriend gets easier and easier, for anything and nothing, your perfect relationship crumbling in your hands; you break everything you touch. Matty, though, is already broken. Maybe the shattered pieces of you will slot together. When Logan finally gives up and leaves you, it’s nothing like your split with Matty. There’s no screaming, no begging, no cruel words you can’t take back. No ache, no hollow regret. Just the quiet click of a door shutting on a chapter of your life you can’t have back.

And the first thing, the first fucking thing you do is call Matty. He picks up on the first ring. “Did you mean it?” you say immediately, low and slightly desperate. “That you’d be waiting?”

Matty laughs disbelievingly. “I haven’t been celibate for the last six months, if that’s what you’re asking,” he scoffs. You sniffle slightly, and he makes a soft, soothing noise, his demeanour instantly changed. “Darling, are you alright?”

“You were right,” you mumble. “I was wrong. I chose wrong. I chose wrong a year ago, and again six months ago. I just want one more chance. One chance to make the right decision this time.”

“Sweet baby,” Matty croons. “Where do you live?” You murmur your address, everything feeling slightly hazy. “I’ll be there in an hour,” he promises.

True to his word, Matty appears on your doorstep an hour later, a bottle of champagne in hand. The same champagne, you realise with a slightly delirious laugh, that he bought for you on your birthday. You let him in, your body a tight mess of feelings you aren’t sure you yet want to untangle. “Hi,” you giggle.

“Hi, baby.” The grin he breaks out in warms your heart as he sets the wine on the kitchen counter. “M’so glad you called, love. Was startin’ to give up hope,” he says, his hands finding your waist and pulling you close. “Was startin’ to think I’d never get to do this again.” His lips meet yours and your blood sings, pressing your body against his and melting under his hands. Matty licks into your mouth, deepening the kiss as you shudder.

“Want you so bad,” you whine against his lips. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you. I started… I almost… I thought about you while he was fucking me,” you confess breathlessly. Matty’s eyes light up. “I— I stayed with him for six months, and I thought about you every time. It was wrong, and I—”

He grins. “Yeah, but he didn’t fuck you the way you deserve to be fucked, did he?” You shake your head mutely. “Missed me, hm? Missed falling apart on your Daddy’s cock?”

“Yes,” you moan, shuddering as Matty kisses his way down your neck.

“Sweet girl,” he says, taking greedy handfuls of your ass. “Let me take you to bed, hm?” You moan eagerly into his mouth, Matty’s fingers nimble and yours clumsy as you tear at each other’s clothes, frenzied. He smirks as you let him into your bedroom, preening in the mirror for a second and grinning widely. “Mm-mm. No,” he says, gesturing down at the floor as you go to lay back on your bed. “Here, in front of the mirror, yeah? Wanna show my girl how pretty she is fallin’ apart for me.”

You nod, sinking to your knees in front of him and tugging his boxers down. Pressing a soft kiss to his hipbone, you wrap a hand around his cock and pump him slowly, his answering moan sending a thrill down your spine. “So eager, baby. Such a good girl. Wanna fuck you first, though, okay?” Matty sits down and pulls you into his lap, meeting your eyes in the mirror, the sight eerily familiar. He dips his head to kiss your neck, sucking bruises into your skin and laving his tongue over the soreness.

Your back arches and you grind in his lap, whimpering as Matty pinches one of your nipples and rolls it between his fingers. “Daddy, stop teasing,” you whine, gasping as he dips his fingers in your cunt, wetness pooling at his touch.

“Oh, darling. C’mon, love, on your hands and knees, yeah? Daddy’s gonna give you what you need.” He presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder as you move, stroking over the curve of your ass and murmuring soothingly. “You ready?” he asks, and you grind back against him desperately.

“Yeah, m’ready, Daddy, please, I need—” You cut yourself off with a choked-out whine as Matty fucks into you. Familiar pressure mounts between your thighs, your cunt clenching and whimpers dripping from your lips.

Matty’s fingers dig into your hips, filling you with deep, measured thrusts. “God, I love this cunt so fucking much. We’re not leaving this room for a long time, darling. Gotta make up for lost time,” he promises, something soft and adoring in his eyes as he watches you take him in the mirror. “Did he ever fuck you like this, baby?”

“N-no,” you moan, pleasure dripping down your insides. “He could never. There’s nobody as good as you, Daddy,” you promise, whimpering when Matty’s fingers come up to toy with your clit.

He smirks, the obscene sound of skin meeting ringing through the room. “Look at your reflection. Look at how gorgeous you are. So fucking gorgeous when I’m fucking you like this. So pretty for me, and only for me,” he moans, your eyes rolling back in your head despite your best efforts to follow direction.

“M’yours. Yours, all yours. Always been yours, Daddy, never stopped,” you babble, whimpering as Matty fucks deep into you, arousal dripping from your cunt.

“This slutty little pussy’s so wet for me, darling. Did you fuck anyone else, huh? Are you a cheating little slut?” he asks, low and vicious in your ear.

An impossible flare of lust coils in your belly, winding tighter and tighter with every circle of Matty’s fingers. “Y-yes,” you gasp. “Found… found guys who looked like you. I never— never called ‘em Daddy,” you hiccup as his thrusts get faster, meaner. “Never compared to you.”

“That’s right, darling,” he coos, pinching your clit cruelly, pleasure jolting up your spine. “M’your Daddy. And you’re my girl, yeah? All mine. Could do whatever I want with you, hm?”

Thick, sticky desire pumps in your veins, your heart beating in overdrive as you whimper and writhe under him. “Anythin’ you want,” you promise. “As long as you make me cum, Daddy, please!” you cry, breath coming in short, sharp gasps as you tip closer and closer to the edge.

“Yeah, darling. Been such a good girl. Cum f’me whenever you’re ready, okay?” Matty says, fucking deep into you and working two fingers in tight circles over your clit. The coiled tension between your thighs stretched to its limit before it finally snaps, your cunt pulsing achingly around him. Ecstasy winds through your bloodstream, a whining moan tearing free of your throat, and you could swear Matty murmurs, “Welcome home,” a split-second before he cums with your name on his lips. You gasp at the feeling of him spilling inside you, gloriously familiar.

“Thank you,” you say quietly as he pulls out, his gaze fixed on your messy, dripping cunt. “Needed that s’bad.” You sink to your elbows, your body limp and liquid.

Matty makes a soft, soothing noise, carefully lifting you into a sitting position. “Oh, baby. Forgot how tired you get after a good fuck. Here, c’mon, up you get,” he says, impossibly gentle as he gets you into bed, pressing soft kisses against your neck and chest.

“I love you,” you rush out as he starts to wander off to the bathroom. “I don’t think I ever stopped.”

“Oh, darling,” he says softly. “I know I didn’t. Always knew we’d end up back here. You’re it for me,” he promises, and your chest warms, everything familiar and finally slotting into place.

#i did Not proofread this sorry #matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #matty healy imagine #the 1975 smut #the 1975 fanfic #writing #smut #request #smut prompt fills

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moremaybank · 1 year

Text

I'LL GO ANYWHERE YOU GO — j.m

pairing jj maybank x fem!reader

summary your best friend jj gives you a token to show you how much he treasures you.

warnings none, just soft!jj with hella fluff because i said so

jj masterlist

you stood in front of your mirror, desperately trying to fasten the clasp of your necklace but failing miserably.

“you almost ready? the kegger’s about to— oh. need a hand?” jj asks, walking into your room and tossing his backpack on your bed carelessly.

“actually, yeah. this clasp is tricky as hell.”

he chuckles wordlessly, striding over to you so he can help. or so you thought. jj takes the necklace out of your hands and discards it on your dresser, and your brows furrow in response.

“hey,” you frown, “what are you doing? i need help putting it on, not taking it off.”

“i have a surprise for you,” he replies, as if he isn’t up to no good. he reaches into the back pocket of his distressed shorts and pulls out a small black velvet box. he extends his hand to you, but you give him a puzzled look.

“oh god, what did you do?”

he chuckles, “why are you just assuming that i’ve done something?”

“because you’re you. i know you way too well, and at this point, if you’re giving me something in a velvet-wrapped box, it means you’ve done something bad. possibly illegal.”

“not true. i’m doing this out of the goodness of my own heart.”

you stare at him warily, not sure what to make of whatever the blonde boy is handing you. he looks a little too eager for your liking, and you’re not sure if you should be nervous or aiding and abetting an escape from the law. but then he flashes you a grin, his signature dimple on full display, and you know you can’t resist him.

“come on. i worked my ass off to get you this. even had the store put it on hold,” he tells you.

“jj, how many times do i have to tell you that i don’t want you spending your hard-earned money on me? it should be spent on you.”

“princess, i only need three things in life to be happy; weed, beer, and you.”

“so you’ve given up on food and water?” you question, cocking your head at him with a smart-ass look.

“alcohol and the devil’s lettuce will sustain me for as long as god intends, pretty girl. now will you open the box?” he asks, placing the small box into your hands.

“you’re not proposing to me, are you? ‘cause if you are, you should buy me dinner first.”

“for the love of all things holy, will you just open it?”

you huff a sigh, “fine.”

you open the lid, and your eyes instantly land on a breathtaking necklace. the pendant was of the letter ‘j,’ and it reflected off the sunlight beaming into your bedroom.

“jj…” you breathe, not being able to help the tears from welling up in your eyes. “i— it’s beautiful. you sure you didn’t steal it? be honest,” you deflect. you try your hardest not to read too much into it, but you can’t help it. the thought of jj, your jj, giving you a necklace with the initial of his first name to take the place of your current everyday necklace makes your heart swell. it’s like carrying him with you, right next to it, everywhere you go.

“i swear, princess. i didn’t steal it. i saw it a couple of months ago when i was with john b and sarah in some kook store over on figure eight, and i decided to save up for it so i could give it to you. consider it an early birthday present for my favourite girl.”

“j, my birthday isn’t for six months. and it’s not that i don’t appreciate it, but you shouldn’t have had to pinch pennies to give me this. you work so hard, and you deserve every cent you earn.”

he sets the small jewelry box aside on your dresser and takes your hands into his, thumbs brushing over your knuckles as he gazes deeply into your eyes. the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen.

“listen. you’ve given me everything. a place to rest my head when i need it, the most beautiful heart i’ve ever known, and my favourite person in the world. you deserve this and so much more. plus, you’re my best friend, and i can spoil you any time i goddamn please.”

you blush, avoiding his gaze as you stare down at your intertwined fingers. “you are so sweet, y’know that? too much for your own good.”

“i try,” he beams at you but shrugs his shoulders casually as if to say it isn’t a big deal.

“you succeed,” you say. “will you put it on for me?”

he smiles so wide that you can tell how much you and the personal piece of jewelry mean to him. “of course, pretty girl. turn around.”

you do as he says, facing your back to him and gathering your hair so you can move it out of the way. jj carefully removes the necklace from the miniature jewelry box and places the chain over your collarbone as he fastens it behind your neck. his fingers linger for a moment as he moves to retreat, and you feel a warmth, his warmth surge through you as he touches you. goosebumps erupt all over your skin as you feel the electricity from his hands course throughout your body.

you both look at your shared reflection in the mirror, and your gaze locks on his ocean-blue eyes. jj offers you a smile that’s impossible not to return as you both stand together so close. you can practically feel the quick thump-thumping of his heart against the skin of your back as he begins to blush.

his hands move to your shoulders. “now you’ll always have a piece of me with you. it’s cheesy as hell, but you’re destined for greatness. i believe that. so, no matter where you go, what you conquer, or how far you are from me, i’ll always be there for you. i’ll always protect you.”

“i love you, j,” you breathe. you turn back to face him. “you know that if i ever get out of here, i’m bringing you with me, right? i’m not me without you,” you mumble into his shoulder after throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him into a tight embrace.

of course, you mean it more than platonically, but the words are true to your heart either way. your love for him constantly overtook your being, but it was to the most significant degree at this moment. you’re desperate to ensure that he knows how much you appreciate him. jj has gone through so much of his life thinking he wasn’t enough for anyone that crossed his path, but that was never the case for you. he always came through, no matter when you needed him. especially then.

“i’ll go anywhere you go,” he whispers. his hand cradled the back of your head as he held you to him, instantly sighing in contentment at how close the two of you were. “and i love you too, my pretty girl. so much more than you’ll ever know. and i hope that someday i can prove it to you.”

little did he know that he proved the strength of his adoration for you every day.

jj tag list (join here!): @maybankslover @kittyqrt @v-velvetykisscs @hobiibobii @rafesdior @fool4him @hemogloban @pankhoeforlife @rafesmuse @lyn07 @houseofperfecttaste @qualitybelieverflower @dudenhaaa27 @princessbetsy123-blog @tori-loves1 @alexxavicry @kenzi-woycehoski @elijahssuit @skydisneylover @adoreyouusugar @obxjjpouge @conniesanchor @baby-maybank @angel037 @wotfasked @rafelover

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satoluv · 5 months

Text

KIKUFUKU OF LOVE— gojo satoru x gn! reader.

synopsis in which you, take 5 days to decide what to get for gojo satoru’s birthday. happy birthday my love 💕💕 come back to me n our children at home pls ☹️🤭🤭.

# a little mention of breakdown, fluff! hehe wc 1.2k+

3RD DECEMBER

"I'll be back in a week, don't miss me too much baby! mmm" He said with a mouthful of kikufuku, licking his sugar-coated fingers and everything. How annoyingly cute.

You rolled your eyes teasingly. "I think it's you who will be missing me."

Your boyfriend, Gojo Satoru is out on misson for a week, and will only be back on his birthday. — What perfect timing.

You've been wanting to surprise him with a gift for his special day. After all, birthday comes by only once a year.

But what could you possibly gift a man who's rich—Surely he has the money, he could afford anything he wants, so what could you get the man who can afford anything and everything?

4TH DECEMBER

To say you don't miss your boyfriend is an understatement, of course you miss him. He called you when he arrived his hotel earlier, you didn't want to bother him when he's working so you decided to just wait for his next call.

Last year on his birthday, you surprised him with a birthday party along with a Vacheron Constantin, 18K 5N Rose Gold watch that costed you your two kidneys. However upon seeing his reaction made it all worth it.

Of course he loved it, you bought it,— his darling bought it.

To him, it meant more than just a gift. Some people believe one should keep it because of the money— ‘it’s expensive! that's why you have to treasure it forever’ — but growing up in a prestigious clan, no one would’ve wanted to celebrate birthday’s with the six eyes and limitless user. So imagine his reaction when you surprised him with a birthday party.

"I bought this for you."

"It reminded me of you." — It touched him that you were thinking of him.

You thought of him.

He cried in your arms that day, thanking you profusely.

So from that day on, you've decided to give him a present every year for his birthday. Not because you like seeing him vulnerable but because you want to show him that he, who came from a prestigious clan, is someone deserving of love.

Your love.

5TH DECEMBER

“SHOKOOOO i can’t think of any gifts for him” You cried in your best friend’s arm, ranting about how incredibly difficult it was to buy a present for your boyfriend.

Shoko, who had enough of your complains and whines, still listens— that’s one of the qualities you love about her.

“I’m sure he’ll love anything you give him YN. It’s Gojo Satoru you’re talking about. If you’re still clueless, you can try asking Nanami for help, you know?” She patted your back, heading out of the room you both were in.

To your despair, Nanami was nowhere to be found. Apparently he was out training Yuji and will only be back in 3 days. Surely you can’t wait that long! Which has resulted you into asking Megumi.

“That idiot loves kikufuku. I’m sure he’ll love it if you give him that but I know he’ll love anything that you give him.”

You sighed, that is indeed true. Sometimes you wonder how one can eat kikufuku continuously non-stop without getting tired of it. Not that you mind, you love how chubby his cheeks get when he stuffs the kikufuku desserts in his mouth. —how annoyingly cute. You miss him. Just by the thought of the sight tempted you to get that dessert.

6TH DECEMBER

6 December. How could you forget? You had a meet-up with your friends from middle school but you have yet to get Satoru’s gift.

Surely it won’t take long. Your head reassured your worries.

Oh, how were you wrong. You were supposed to have a fun little chit-chat session at the cafe you used to visit during your teenage days.

6pm became 8pm, 8pm became 10pm.

You’re walking along the streets, mentally cursing yourself. The time on the watch Satoru bought for you said 11pm. And you’re having a mini breakdown because you weren’t keeping track of time. You’ve never been good at managing your time. — Well not after you dated Gojo Satoru.

He’d always remind you to take breaks in between your work because you simply can’t give yourself a break. To other people, you’ve been told a workaholic, but to Gojo Satoru, you’re just someone who works harder than others. And for that, you too, deserve a break.

Oh how you miss him.

As you walk down the shops along the pathway leading to your shared apartment, you stole a quick glance on the kikufuku bakery shop that your boyfriends loves.

‘Limited Edition Flavour — GET IT NOW! Today’s the Last Day’

Your eyes lit up. That was the flavour he’s been dying to try but it was always sold out. You ran in without a second thought and bought it as a gift for your boyfriend.

“That idiot loves kikufuku. I’m sure he’ll love it if you give him that but I know he’ll love anything that you give him.” —Surely he’ll love it, right, Megumi?

6TH DECEMBER 11.56pm

You’re sitting on the balcony of your shared home, waiting for his arrival. He might not even come home exactly on his birthday so why wait? — Even though he always said there was no need to wait up for him, you end up doing the opposite. You love waiting up for him even if it means falling asleep on the couch while waiting.

The cold breeze gave you goosebumps on your skin, and you began biting your nails. —A habit of yours, in which Satoru kisses your fingertips in an attempt for you to stop. What if he doesn’t like the gifts you got him? Hell, it was just kikufuku from your local bakery shop. You started pacing around the house, completely unaware of the sound of the keys.

“Sweetheart?”

Were you dreaming? Or was it the voice of your lovely boyfriend?

7TH DECEMBER 12.00AM

You moved from your previous position and jumped straight into Satoru’s arms which he got taken aback but recovered quickly when you felt his arms wrapped around your back.

Oh how you missed him.

“Someone misses me that much h-?”

You placed a finger on his mouth, cupped both his cheeks while leaning your foreheads together, and softly, you said “Happiest of birthday My Satoru. My gift is waiting for you in the kitchen. It’s not much but I-”

He cut you off by kissing your salty-tasted lips. Where were the lips that tasted like strawberries— the strawberry flavoured chapstick he loved so much?

Had you been crying?

He broke the kiss, and walked you both to the kitchen, never letting you go as if you were as fragile as a newborn baby. He sat you on the counter beside the bakery box decorated with ribbons that matched his beautiful cerulean eyes and smiled, immediately knowing what was inside. — His s/o got him the limited edition kikufuku flavour he had been dying to try!

One of his hands rested on your waist while the other squished your cheeks. You squealed.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I enjoy my birthday best with you and your presence is the best gift. That makes everyday my birthday sweetheart, Thank you and I love you.” He kissed your forehead.

It was as if he read your mind. He knew how to clear the doubts in your head.

You covered your face with your palms to cover both your face and hide your sniffles. — You’ve always said you hate how cheesy he gets but— Oh how you love it. And he knows you love it.

He pried your hands away from your face and pinned them above your head. That action made you look up at him. His beautiful snow white hair and cerulean eyes. You pray that one day, your children will inherit those features of his that you love so much.

“Don’t be shy now baby I’m gna’ unwrap my present now”

The next thing you know, his lips found yours again.

a lil bonus! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

likes and reblogs appreciated! 💕💕 & pls be kind to me.

@ satoluv do not plagiarize, translate, or rewrite my writings without my permission !

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru’s birthday #satoru gojo #lily writes! ೀ⋆｡˚#my baby’s birthday #husband’s birthday omg!#i miss him

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starsstuddedsky · 7 months

Text

Slice of Love

Haechan x reader

summary: birthday cake and boyfriend material

genre: fluff, non idol au, not really angst but haechan is so dramatic

warnings: swearing, food/dessert, i dont know anything about art, pls lmk if i missed any

wc: 1.8k (who is she???)

a/n: finally wrote something short and sweet :) it's been so long since i've done that lol. this is heavily inspired by 7dream cafe cake-making and my full belief that none of these boys should be unsupervised in the kitchen. thank you to @chocolatemilk139 for being my beta as always <3 (even though you didnt edit anything smh)

It’s not horrendous.

Donghyuck stares at the cake in front of him. The process started well: he made the tester cake last week week that the council (also known as his friends) approved with generous support (“wait, what’s actually kind of good,” from Jeno, “it’s edible,” from Renjun, “the hint of orange really sells it,” from Jaemin, “it’s not burnt so it’s already better than anything I could make,” from Mark, “you didn’t buy this?” from Chenle, and Jisung, who just stared at him with wide eyes).

No, the problem isn’t the batter. He slaved over it all last night and chose the two cakes that rose most evenly in the oven. Everything but his tears went into making them.

“Wow,” Renjun says, leaning over the counter. “You fucked up.”

Donghyuck smacks him, leaving a trail of lavender buttercream on the wool sweater.

“Hey, that’s going to be a bitch to get out!” Renjun cries.

“Cry me a river,” Donghyuck says, “which is a good song, but also, you deserve it. It’s not that bad.”

Renjun raises his eyebrows but Donghyuck raises a spoonful of extra frosting. Renjun backs off.

Despite his strong defense, Donghyuck fears Renjun may be right. Though the cake stands tall, crumbs mix in with the frosting on the sides. What was supposed to be an artistically plump edging around the base of the cake and around the top corner looks like it exploded out of the piping bag (because it did, popping the cap off several times). In his head, the center would be filled with flowers and hearts and all sorts of pretty shapes in all sorts of pastel colors—but by the time he got to the center, he’d fully given up on piping bags, meaning he had to get creative for the flowers. Instead of flowers, he made blobs of frosting pushed off a spoon. In some spots he accidentally mixed the colors together, a green one shade away from brown, not at all like the field in the pictures on his Pinterest board.

Jeno appears next, wandering out of his room. He misses Renjun’s warning glare, though Donghyuck doesn’t. He steps right next to Donghyuck, tilting his head. “What is this supposed to be again?”

“What do you think?” Donghyuck asks evenly.

Oblivious or uncaring, Jeno pauses to ponder. “A really ugly version of Shrek’s swamp?”

“Get out.”

“Get out of ma’ swamp!” Jeno attempts a Scottish accent, authenticity as questionable as the flower field in Donghyuck’s cake. Jeno retreats with Renjun on the couch, dodging Donghyuck’s frosting spoon. It would be a waste of the delicacy on his stupid dri-fit t-shirt, which he wears even when he doesn’t work out.

“It’ll be fine,” Jaemin says. “It’ll taste good, which is the important part.” He sits at the counter, the only one to offer moral support while Donghyuck decorated. But his attempts at comfort are in vain; Donghyuck doesn’t just want the cake to taste good, he wants it to taste perfect, to look perfect, for all of it to be perfect. It’s the least you deserve.

Donghyuck ignores the banging on his door, letting one of the guys let Chenle and Jisung in (no one else would threaten to break down a metal door instead of waiting the five seconds it takes to unlock the door).

“We come bearing food!” Chenle shouts, plastic bag singing in his hand as Jisung follows precariously carrying a stack of pizza boxes. Far more food than needed, but Donghyuck won’t skimp out on you. Chenle tosses his bag full of snacks on the table, crossing the room to see the ‘masterpiece’ Donghyuck spent the past week hyping up.

“Dude, are you seriously going to give that to YN?”

“Are you trying to get dumped?” Jisung asks. “Ow!” he cries when Chenle smacks him.

“Your welcome,” he says, “though he sort of has a point, that looks like literal shit.”

“Does it really?” Donghyuck pouts.

Chenle points at one of the browner spots. “You’re telling me that’s not a piece of shit?”

“They were supposed to be flowers.”

Jaemin, Renjun, and Jisung manage to cover their laughs as coughs but Chenle and Jeno let out a bark of laughter.

“Yeah, you’re screwed,” Chenle says, clapping him on his shoulder that sags even lower than his normal bad posture. “You could call Mark and get him to pick up a cake on his way.”

“He’s bringing YN,” Donghyuck says glumly. “Besides, I already told YN that I would make it myself. I’m not going to be a failure and a liar.”

“It’s really not that bad,” Jaemin says, ignoring the chorus of dissent from the rest of the guys. “It’ll taste good!”

Donghyuck shrugs. He can’t explain it, at least not so that they can understand him. He knows perfection is a subjective definition that he’ll never be able to fulfill but he strives for it anyway. If it isn’t perfect then why would he do it at all? Even if it’s his first time attempting this level of artwork, he should at least be able to make something that looks okay, or recognizable.

And you—you deserve more than a dry store-bought mess and more than a half-assed attempt at love. You’ve only been together for a couple months but he’s determined to prove himself. A birthday was the perfect opportunity, even when you’ve known him for years and spent plenty of birthdays with him. This was his chance to show you the boyfriend material he’s made of, except instead of black velvet or creamy silk, Donghyuck thinks this cake is the work of a neon yellow polyester shirt worth less than $2 at the thrift store.

“Mark just texted that he just parked,” Jaemin announces. He glances at Donghyuck. “You ready?”

Donghyuck glances at himself. His hands are covered in frosting that’s dried and crusted, spread up his arms. His Kiss the Chef apron protected his shirt and most of his pants from the damage, but the mess is the least of his concerns. There’s nothing he can do about the disaster (he’s given up calling it anything else) in front of him. Shrek’s Swamp or a toilet bowl, it’s definitely not a flower field and it’s definitely not what you deserve. But it’s all he’s got.

The final punch hits with a gentle knock at the door. Donghyuck crosses the room to his doom, stepping past his silent friends who bow their heads in respect for the walking dead. He pulls open the door slowly. He sees your shoes first, white sneakers you spent three hours with a Sharpie decorating, full of hearts and stars and unmistakable flowers—daisies and chrysanthemums and lavender, more than he can name.

You wear your favorite jeans, loose bootcut that tighten at the thighs, hugging you in all the right places. A loose shirt hangs from your shoulders, one of the bands you always play for him with lots of bass and visceral lyrics that romanticize suffering. A family of silver earrings dangle from your ears, and he recognizes each of your favorites, the miniature swords, sparkling star shaped studs, a curly twist of metal that wraps around the higher part of ear. You look perfect.

Donghyuck has always loved the way you smile, a gentle turn of your lips, like the happiness belongs to only you. You lean forward, pressing a short kiss to his lips, a peck more than anything. Donghyuck stares at you, eyes wide. You gesture to his apron. “Just following the rules.”

He smiles though it fades as soon as he sees the frosting–no, the evidence of his failures, spread down the black fabric. “Happy birthday,” he says, wishing he could put more heart into it. A tiny frown furrows in your brow but you don’t question him.

He steps back to let you walk in, trailing behind you as the rest of the guys wish you happy birthday. Mark catches up easily, clapping a hand on his shoulder, whispering, “Jeno sent me a picture.”

Renjun hugs you, which Donghyuck belatedly realizes he never did.

“I brought the food,” Chenle announces. “Don’t go thanking anyone else for my efforts.”

“Our,” Jisung corrects. “You barely even carried anything.”

“That’s because I had to drive,” Chenle says, waving his hand. “And don’t even get me started on the pizzeria, you better appreciate every molecule because—”

“Thank you, Chenle,” you say.

“Thank me,” Donghyuck says. “It was my detailed instructions that perfected absolutely everything about today, which reminds me, did Mark behave?”

You turn back to face him, linking your fingers with his. “Yes, babe, he followed your script. He almost cried because the barista messed up the order and he didn’t want to be annoying but he said you said ‘if anything goes wrong, I’ll kill you,’ and meant it.”

“And I did,” Donghyuck says. He nods at his best friend for his service.

“Now.” You squeeze his fingertips. “Where’s this cake you’ve been so excited about.”

Donghyuck doesn’t try to hide his face. There’s no use delaying the inevitable. He lets go of your hands, leading you to the crime scene to lay the final verdict (the judicial system of his brain is in need of some reformation).

You reach the counter and freeze. A list of concert dates greets Donghyuck, your back facing him while you study the cake. There’s no name for the opposite of a masterpiece, no artist that wants their worst creation recorded in history.

He inches closer to you, peeking at your face. He recognizes the expression, the narrowing of your eyes, the way you flatten your lips. He’s been to enough art shows and spent enough time with you studying for art history to know what you analyze art.

“It’s not Van Gogh or Monet,” he says, “it’s not even that asshole guy who made the Bean.”

“Mm,” you hum, “no, you’re not any of them.”

“It’s an ugly cake,” he says, “I know. I tried, I really did, but apparently you actually do need a decade or two of experience to make a decent cake, which is totally unfair, like, I spent more time on it than my research project, and this only looks marginally better than that.”

“It’s amazing,” you say, “reminiscent of the expressionist era.”

“Really?”

“No,” you say, turning to grin at him. “But you made it, so none of that matters. Maybe it doesn’t look like what you thought, but seriously.” You rest a hand on his arm. “It’s perfect.”

He meets your eyes, sees sincerity and not an ounce of teasing. No, it wasn’t what he wanted for you, but that doesn’t really matter. Perfection is subjective and to you it’s perfect—why did he ever think it wouldn’t be?

He grins. “Perfect?”

You step closer to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him into a hug, ignoring the frosting that must be smearing across the band member’s faces.

“Perfect.”

a/n2: thank you for reading! as always, i appreciate any feedback :)

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