#which seems glum
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Omega!Gojo Satoru x Alpha!Reader
I believe we are fated to do the things we choose anyway*
gege akutami is the kind of mangaka who makes fun of almost all their characters. with utmost affection, gojo deserves to be bullied a bit. we love that he's a little heartless, a little frivolous, that he's powerful as a fact, that he cares a little bit strangely, so doing him a bit of justice, here's the mirror to Getou's youth story
tw: canon character death, spoilers for the manga, gojo's emotional constipation and egotism
Toji Zenin cut so many threads the day he arrived on the Tokyo school grounds, but the one between you and Satoru survived. It's already a miracle that Riko was the only one who died that day. The miracle of surviving should have been enough, but now you've lived long enough to find out how much you could love someone too. You get to see how afraid someone is of loving you. Gojo Satoru had one friend. Gojo Satoru had one mate. That was it, that was all he could let himself have.
Springtime Tokyo is still cold. Not as cold as up north in the mountains, but the winter uniforms are blessedly warm. An assistant manager drops you off at Tokyo Jujutsu Technical School on a milky March morning where you are met by Yaga-sensei, the first year teacher.
This teacher has some kind of idea about building community, which is why he's clustered the four of you first-years in the same building, around a loud blue-eyed boy who barely takes one look at you, squinting around a pair of blackout sunglasses, at your purposeful non-expression, before he is grinning, far too wide and it feels like he gets even louder, movements expansive to pull you into the range of an argument he's having with a tall slim boy with long hair tied at the back of his head.
Yaga-sensei just shakes his head and introduces you to Ieri Shoko, who is physically leaning away from the noise as if to escape some blast radius and has the most distant smile you've ever seen in your life on her face.
It's unsettling is what it is. The dark haired boy is just rolling his eyes at the one who had somehow both dismissed you and pulled you into his orbit. The automatic response is to try and get that attention back, but you have at least a little more self respect than that. You climb the stairs to take a room on the same floor to Shoko-san's and leave them to their snipping. You don't see Gojo fall silent for half a second before carrying on bickering, Yaga now stepping in to separate them.
School hasn't quite started yet. It's a boarding school so everyone is just around, getting the lay of the school, setting up their rooms, exploring Tokyo, running into one another and trying to figure out how their pieces fit together.
Satoru has already sorted you all into neat little piles of adjectives
Polite: the boy with the long dark hair, Getou Suguru, although this doesn't necessarily mean nice he notes gleefully. Self righteous and reactive, as in he can be baited into a no holds barred fight, which is new for him. He hasn't been able to fight someone who could hold their ground for more than a minute since he was thirteen. Subversively irreverent.
Morbid: the shortie with the short hair, Shoko Ieri. She discovered her abilities somewhere and even Satoru has to admit some of the diagrams she pulls up are admirably disgusting. Neutral. Satoru has never met someone else who sticks so close to their own whims before but she isn't like anything he expected, dismissive, meandering, goading. And she can't explain how she does what she does, which is aggravating because he can't do it.
And you, the new one. The last to arrive. Fresh meat. Quiet, wary.
You catch him not following you, but showing up near where you are a little too frequently to feel coincidental while you're making a point to meet the upperclassmen. He adds opportunistic and watchful to the list when he notices you do this, but some of the older students seem to find it vaguely endearing - the clan ones like a small animal they can toss treats, the recruited students who aren't trying to suck up to the clan kids with the cautious familiarity of greeting another outsider.
He tries tossing you a treat, granting you some offhanded attention in the common space of what is now the first years' block. Suguru laughs at him when you mostly look confused and apologetically tell him you've never seen either of the movies he wants to debate before refilling your water bottle and wandering back out onto the school grounds with your umbrella.
School starts regardless with some tentative unspoken agreement between the four of you to try and be friends, or at least classmates. There is after all, no one else to be friends with.
Class is boring, so Satoru watches his classmates. Where Shoko is passive and watchful and Satoru is staring into the air, you're openly attentive and Suguru more casually mirrors your attention. Which makes him want to call you another boring small-town bumpkin
Except you are in the same the advanced mechanics elective he is, and you and Shoko become animated discussing the curse anatomy lectures. Yaga takes you away to practice hand-to-hand with his dolls while he lets Satoru and Suguru pummel each other, which makes him think you must be too fragile to handle the two of them. Most people are, so he doesn't think much on it.
Satoru sometimes goes out alone to train when he can't sleep. He lashes out at the wooden dummies on the practice field, ducking under wooden arms and lashing out to see sections of it spin faster. On one of these nights, a week or two into the first year, he sees you standing outside the track, leaning on a railing, face buried in a thick scarf. He's aware of your vague attention, watching him without any particular interest, like how one might watch water sliding under a bridge, but when he sneaks a glance around the practice dummy, you're just as often more fixated on the sky. The moon is full and you're watching the clouds chase across the deep blue expanse, listening to Gojo Satoru's knuckles impacting on wood. And then at some point, he looks over and you're gone, your weird cursed energy signature fading in the dark.
Satoru only sees your technique the first time a substitute makes you spar with everyone else during training while Yaga is away. Apparently the teacher is someone you know because you get into the first argument he's ever seen before you send a spear flying so fast it hits the center of a target and topples it over.
The same teacher makes you fight Satoru, to already defeated attempts at appalled refusal. He'd usually help you push back just on principle, but he hasn't gotten to go on a mission with you yet and his sometimes oppressive curiosity has settled on whether you actually can keep up with him after all.
You can't, but this is Gojo Satoru at fifteen, not fully realized, and the first time he fights you he amends how he feels about "opportunistic". He flies right at your face and swears he makes contact, but you step back at the last minute and he feels an impending impact from his left that is almost the same strength as his own attack. He tries again and you twist out of the way much faster than he had expected. He tries to throw you and you end up descending slowly to the ground, trying to get the teacher to end the bout. Eventually Satoru overwhelms you and breaks your arm when you try to block too many hits in rapid succession. Shoko fixes it, and you wince with gritted teeth and tears in your eyes but don't cry or sob or glare at him with the kind of face that is calling him names you can't say out loud. The demonstration has him, fortunately or unfortunately, folding you into the energy of your little first year group like you'd been there all along.
He's a shaman clan kid, so it's interesting to see you now as not necessarily opportunistic but curious about the other sorcerers, about other people. What a novelty, to be inconsequentially curious. If he'd been too curious as a child he would be either lectured on responsibility or nearly drowned in related gifts meant to appease his moods
You don't appease his moods and the attention of him, one of the strongest sorcerer of the generation, doesn't appease you.
Satoru tries to bait you and things go right over your head. He tries to disrupt your silent, invisible schedule and you let him drag you away with minimal fussing, especially when Shoko or Suguru is involved, but will wander to the side on outings and either find some accidental trouble or something that makes him a little surprised at the intensity of your focus.
He forces you into a combat-determined wager that demands you stop using honorifics with his name and Suguru's name and Shoko's name (without asking the other two) and there's no way for you to get out of it or win so that forces some artificial closeness that becomes real. Language is very important for creating distance, for creating hierarchy and Satoru somehow isn't interested in a hierarchy between you.
He is however far more self conscious of his omega status than Suguru is. He won't say it, but it's a relief when none of you make a big deal out of it when you find out and also a surprising comfort when you and Shoko who don't have to suffer through the literal additional headache of heats try and make them comfortable
For Satoru this involves distracting him by playing video games with him, watching movies, or tossing balls of paper at him while he tries to stop it with his technique. Mostly he's with Suguru, especially if they sync up, but Satoru doesn't have the same heat symptoms as him. During first year even though he sleeps more than he does as an adult, it's typically less than the rest of you might want. Where Suguru gets tired, Satoru will get cranky and mean because he's bored and feverish and Suguru is too tired to entertain him. His family also was never very comforting during his heats so he knows what to do as far as nesting, but having people around is new for him.
He likes to call and text you if you're on missions during these times, which is typical given his clan's sensitivity to him being around alphas at these times.
So even when you're on campus, you and Shoko only spend a few hours with him at a time. Sometimes you play games and the heat makes him almost slow enough to beat on a DS link game. Sometimes he makes you do his homework. Sometimes he likes to throw throwing things at you to see how you use your technique to deal with it.
He adds "sentimental" to the list of adjectives when he realizes he can so easily pressure you in these times into revealing more of yourself to him than you usually do. He's bored and there's only so many things to talk about before you start telling him about an encounter with one of the rare cats that will tolerate living around the cursed energy of the campus, when you grimace and tell him about a terrible noodle stand in Yamanashi province that you still crave somehow, when you tell him about saving fallen leaves in a heavy dictionary you use for that purpose, or the one time you reveal that you've kept every pair of shoes your parents bought you to wear on the first day of school. You tell him these things and it makes him feel like maybe, someday, he might want to tell you things too.
It's not soft but there's a softness to it. A genuineness in the four of you together, in Satoru's and Suguru's growing strength and self surety. Satoru tries to make himself the center of the world, because it's fact that is where he has been all along. But he's not so easily the center of your world. You didn't come from his world.
Satoru doesn't fall. He doesn't think hard about why it becomes so. He barely thinks about it all. He just knows at some point that you're one of his. You're one of his and he wants you to pay him the attention he' accustomed to as center of the world (except he doesn't maybe. He'll be able to say it one day that what he loved was you treating him like he was as human as he could be)
He's terrible at acknowledging whether this possessiveness is anything in particular. After a sparring session, you watch Shoko patch a cut on Suguru's arm with so much longing and a pang of something worms its way in Satoru's chest. He crowds in next to Suguru before Shoko's done, draping over Suguru's shoulders. You don't see the way Satoru's eyes flicker from Shoko's steady hands to your wide-eyed gaze.
He's jealous the way a child is jealous of a favorite toy, hooking his arm around your neck if any omegas outside of school talk to you in the street. If you brush him off when he's trying to use you as a tool for self-affirmation, he sulks around until you acknowledge him in some other way and he will not admit to a single soul why it matters. When he's forced to go home for holidays like oban and returns in a terrible pique, you may fight with him if he lashes out in the worst, most personal ways. You push back and talk to instead of around him or through him and you also don't realize that is why he backs off.
He realizes slowly that he has to be careful with you. He forgets sometimes that you're more fragile that Suguru, that you need help Shoko doesn't need. On what you call the "worst school trip in existence" and Shoko calls "lucky we didn't all die" and Suguru smiles and calls "well we all made it out in the end", even Satoru got injured, yet he feels invincible, like he caught a bullet and threw it back.
When Toji nearly kills him and everyone he ever cared about, he awakens with the power to keep it from happening ever again. He thinks he can carry the world for all of you, for everyone, reveling in his power. He doesn't realize that his presence, the gravity well he made in the monster class's lives, doesn't exist the same way while he's not there because he has a tendency to think everything will be easy for him to fit back into when he returns, or not to think on the fact things could change at all.
Then Suguru leaves and the center of Satoru's world, his reference point, collapses
You're there in Shinjuku the day it happens. It's getting cold again. You're there to meet Shoko. Suguru has gone missing, Satoru is... away. Again. Still. He's been absent whenever he is around anyway. The jujutsu world doesn't have the resources to devote to hunting curse users in particular so the effort to find Suguru has been halfhearted at best and even if he's on your minds, you have jobs to do still.
You're there in Shinjuku and when you don't find the person you're looking for, you find someone else, It shouldn't happen, but it does. You run into Satoru, mind reeling at Suguru's betrayal. You nearly don't see him and he nearly doesn't see you except he sees everything and he's been walking around the district like a ghost.
He appears like a ghost too, tall and pale and ridiculous eyes. You'd tried to see if the world reflected in them once, but now it's more obvious to you than ever that it's just him, nothing more and nothing less.
"Let's go back," he says, and for the first time in months, you return to the college, side by side on the train, feeling like there should be more people in the near-empty car. You get as far as you can before you get to a station that's closed where you can no longer transfer and then you get out and walk in silence.
You walk like there's another person jostling for space between you. When you get to the school, Shoko meets you at the red tori gates. When you get to the mostly empty dormitory building, now a little emptier, Satoru looks at you. And looks and looks and looks. This time, he feels like you might disappear in the pre-dawn light casting your faces in blue.
Maybe it's because he's already lost one precious thing long before he noticed it was gone that he grips your shoulders tight, so tight you almost wince, but turn into it instead, tilting your head as though, were you less careful people, you might brush your cheek against his hand. Just for a little bit of comfort, for a little familiarity.
Then Shoko makes a noise at the top of the stairs, the scuff of her foot, the tap of her palm on the banister. What a terrible day it must be if Shoko is interfering. And you step away.
Satoru doesn't go to bed. For the first time in his life he feels like he doesn't know who he is. He watches your light come on and then go off. He doesn't see you stand at the mouth of the hall leading to Suguru's room with a blanket around your shoulders until eventually you turn away and fall asleep on one of the common room couches, near to where a year of his body in the same spot had left an indent. He doesn't think about the world where you aren't here, where he never sees you again, because he can't quite fathom it.
Because even when he was gone, he never felt like he had let any of you go
It makes him feel sick to his stomach, the closeness of someone else, but it feels worse to push you away so you sit shoulder to shoulder with him some time in the morning. He pretends not to see the new dark shadows in your eyes. You sit and watch the mist burn off and pretend his warmth can hide how the world is a little colder.
*I didn't fall in love with you. I walked into love with you, with my eyes wide open, choosing to take every step along the way. I do believe in fate and destiny, but I also believe we are only fated to do the things that we'd choose anyway. And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you
― Kiersten White, The Chaos of Stars
#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru#a/b/o#a/b/o dynamics#omegaverse#alpha!reader#omega!gojo#reader insert#gn#i'm sorry this is so much longer than the getou one#I changed styles to write something else and couldn't get back to the broad strokes style of the getou bit#i want to expand on both#this show is really good and the potential here is too much to resist#the quote came to mind because the six eyes user has a specific kind of fate#but the idea of fate has a lot of interesting discussion around it in between religions#jjk plays a lot with buddhist/shinto/christian imagery including the idea of a fate thread tangled between certain power centers#i was raised in a christian centered culture which has certain beliefs about predetermination that can get incredibly depressing.#fate is generally defined as a predetermined and inescapable path of action or consequences#you can't escape it no matter what choices you make#which seems glum#karma on the other hand has something more to do with tendencies - the things you do to yourself/by yourself that lead to consequence#karma is separate from fate. even if you escape the cycle of karma or samsara you cannot escape fate#little interaction with fate are common - seeking explanations of future fortune or charms to pull you in the direction you want to go#ultimately there is a tension between the human ability to act at will (karma/free will) and fate#How do you justify acting if everything is predetermined? one can trap themselves in ontologic questions about purpose and actions#there is an inevitably and circular in accepting that maybe we can't escape fate but that fate also can't escape us#our actions were always going to matter#io.omegas
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There’s a general consensus that above all else Jason should be homicidal again. However I think what’s also very important is that he should be a fucking hoot.
There’s nothing not funny about this entire bit.
1. He couldn’t give less of a shit about explaining that he’s single-handedly trying to stop a terrorist attack. Obviously cause he’s short on time, but even if he had all the time in the world he would still be this indifferent towards explaining himself to cops.
2. This bomb is seconds away from exploding but he’s at most mildly annoyed like he’s in the office doing some menial task.
3. The perfectly timed British jokes.
4. Circling back to number 1 on the list. After he throws the bomb into the water he just dips. For all they know he’s the (weird) terrorist. (But as long as everyone’s okay he doesn’t care! The beauty of Jason Todd everybody).
This one is funny (but it’s also true)? Like yes … that is exactly what you are. (A sweet, kind-hearted goodboy learning how to effectively poison people, shoot guns, and blow shit up with all manner of explosives like a certified pro).
Bonus:
Red Hood: The Lost Days #5 (2010-)
Red Hood: The Lost Days #4 (2010-)
“Not so irritating for an American” is a far more impressive title than “genius” if you ask me. Although I think Jason balances both pretty well.
#lost days was actually a comedy it gets funnier every time I reread it#look I know in recent days he’s become more serious/glum as a character#he’s sorta detached from people and situations and he seems to have lost his spunk#and my mind is zoning in on Zdarsky. him feeling immense guilt and burden over people he kills.#which like. even Matt Murdock fans said Zdarsky leaned a bit too heavily into Catholic guilt lol#Jason should be like this again#boiling inside him is untamed rage and pain and hurt but the jokes keep rolling off his tongue in an endless stream#just as playful with his words as he is with his bombs and takeover plans#from moments like the bomb under the bridge or even just the 'nice boy' comment#you see just how much he not only doesn’t care about being labelled a hero for his actions but how he actively detests it even#it’s one of the things that makes him so endearing to me like: look at this humble kind kid who loves and cares for the world immeasurably#(even after all he’s suffered from it)#but refuses to ever take credit for it#jason todd#red hood#red hood: the lost days#lost days#dc
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can you make and edit of nepeta and give her chihiro fujisakis outfit?,?! preferably a hs panel but sprites r fine too
yes :>
-mod davesprite
#mod davesprite#homestuck panel edit#homestuck#nepete leijon#btw whatever chihiros deal w gender is the exact same as mine ive decided. this is NOT an invitation to tell me abt their gender#soooo anyway adhd appt#hang on i gotta go Consult My Notes because approximately one million Bad Doctorings occured#okay so first off. doctor asked if i had depression. i wobbled back and forth and eventually said probably no (lie). she responded#''thats what i thought you dont seem like the glum type'' HELLO???#super cool and normal. anyway then we got to the actual adhd part#she kept asking what i do in a day since i dont do school and dont work and like .... yeah thats the issue? nothing?#and she seemed to be TOTALLY clueless what to ask when i did neither of those things. never asked abt my hobbies or chor3s or personal life#sorry abt my new typing quirk btw the new phone keyboards weird#anyway she asked Only about how i did in school. which like...well? but i made it clear i could Not focus.#never read textbooks or watched lectures or listen3d to the teacher etc etc#hmmm ill split this to a part two i think im near the tag limit and im only halfway througu
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Hi! I love your writing! Would you be up for writing a fic where reader has super bad separation anxiety from Al, but he has to go somewhere without them and either Angel Dust or Husk is in charge of taking care of them/keeping them calm while he’s gone? Thanks a bunch!!! ❤️
Separation anxiety! GN! Reader x Alastor/husker?
A/n: Of course !! Honestly this has been super fun and I’m more than grateful for all the people who seem to enjoy my silly little fanfictions/headcanons, many thanks everybody ♥️♥️
Also, if you couldn’t tell from a lot of my writing, I’ve taken quite a liking to Alastor… So I get it, I love him too y’all ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧
Warnings: Mentions of separation anxiety, Mentions of alcohol, Alastor being Alastor so light mentions of blood and cannibalism (doesn’t actually happen)
Fluff✔️ Comfort✔️ Angst❌ Smut❌
Hope yall don’t mind a few headcanons first about this :33
📻𖤐 it’s hard to tell how Alastor would realistically react to someone being attached to him in that way..
📻𖤐 Like do I think it would bother him? No, he wouldn’t mind you tagging along wherever he went as long as you didn’t bother him too much or get in the way of things but there are just times where he requires or wants to be alone. Which is where Husker would come in lol
📻𖤐 He probably wouldn’t leave you with Angel, even if Husk wasn’t available for whatever reason he’d just get Charlie to look after you while he was away.
📻𖤐 I feel like he cares/loves in an odd way.. like he wants to tear you apart and lick up all your delicious, sweet blood but in an affectionate way??? If that makes sense?? Remember that pomegranate cannibalism metaphor that went around on TikTok for a bit there? Think that.
📻𖤐 of course, he wouldn’t do that, he wants to keep you around.
Okok I’m done yapping about silly radio man lol, onto the fic
Unfortunately, today was one of those days you couldn’t tag along with where Alastor went, he was attending an overlord meeting and obviously you not being an overlord it meant that you couldn’t go with him despite all of your protests and begging.
Before his departure, he sat you down at the bar with Husker and gave you a little pat on the head, telling you that he’d be back shortly and walking out of the hotel doors.
The grumpy cat demon poured himself a drink as he stared at you, this wasn’t exactly the first time Alastor had left him on “babysitting” duty with you and he didn’t exactly mind it. You were quite sweet for somebody who landed themselves in a place like hell.
“Where’s he off to this time?” Husker asked before taking a sip of the alcoholic beverage he held in his hand, attempting to make some form of conversation with you.
“Oh.. just some kind of silly overlord meeting…” You mumbled out a short reply whilst looking a bit glum. He simply nodded in response, setting his glass down on the bar countertop to mix you up a little something as well.
Husk didn’t understand your attachment to the Radio Demon to be completely frank with you. He and a lot of others viewed Alastor as something to fear, respect, and try to avoid contact with the best they could… so seeing someone who enjoyed his company was a foreign idea to him. But he wouldn’t judge you for it. It wasn’t exactly his business anyways and at least he seemed to treat you decently.
“Don’t stress it kid, he’ll be back soon. He keeps his promises I’ll give him that much.” Husk attempted to reassure you, giving a slight smile as he slid a drink down to you.
You smiled back weakly and nodded, taking a deep breath as you grabbed the drink he had slid over to you. You took a sip and it tasted like a screwdriver, not too bad of a drink and it would probably take your mind off of things a little bit if you had a few of them. Which was probably the goal Husker was trying to reach.. he couldn’t imagine separation anxiety to be very fun.
Later into the night once you got a few drinks in you, you started to forget all about why you were upset and/or stressed out in the first place. Chatting with Husk about random stuff and occasionally mentioning and talking about a person or two.
Husk wished there were more nights like this, more time spent with you… and who knows? Maybe you’ll be visiting the bar more often for him after tonight if he was lucky. He was pretty good at playing his cards right, after all.
(Sorry this was kinda short !! I wasn’t sure what else to write. Lmk if you guys maybe want a part two with Alastor coming back from his little meeting, I might do that :3)
Please do not repost, translate, or plagarize any of my fanfictions/writing/headcanons without permission ◟( ˃̶͈◡ ˂̶͈ )◞
ᯓ★ Scatteredskittles
#requests open#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel fluff#alastor headcanons#alastor x reader#husk x reader#hazbin hotel#x reader#alastor hazbin hotel#alastor#husker#husker hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel headcanon#hazbin hotel comfort#angel dust
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vii. take care of me
frankie morales x f!reader | chapter seven of i like the way you
best friend! friends with benefits! frankie morales summary: what starts off as an offhand remark, quickly becomes a regular, scheduled 'stress relief'. the only problem is, both of you are in denial that you feel anything outside of friendship for the other.
warnings: friends with benefits. fwb! rules. flirting. idiots who are so in love it’s stupid. feelings. smut - p in v. reader has a bad day, soft romantic fucking.
word count: 4.7k
an: the biggest thanks to @thetriumphantpanda who read this before bake off and left me a bunch of comments that made me so excited, you almost had this chapter yesterday.
You had seemed downtrodden before he rocked up and ‘broke a rule’.
His pretence at forgetting all quickly seen through, as though he’s transparent. He had wanted to explain that he had only wanted to cheer you up, but you looked less in the mood for an apology than you did an explanation.
So he swallowed both.
From the middle of the week, he had suspected something was wrong. When he had finally managed to call you, you had sounded so close to tears, that he wondered whether he should drive back sooner.
Especially when you had barely laughed at a joke he made on one of his commutes back to the hotel—barely even answering when he asked it if was his movie choice or yours.
I don’t mind.
You always mind. If I remember right, you have a real thing about me always pickin’ the movie, querida.
Well, I don’t today, okay? You can pick—I—Frankie, I have to go.
When the end call tone flooded the bed of his truck, he’d strongly suspected that you’d fought your way off the phone with him so you could crumble. Cracking yourself open into a bunch of shards, all pressure-cooked by the weight of everything you take on, only to say you’re fine.
It’s why he had driven past your place the day before he had made plans to see you. Fighting with himself about getting out and going up to your door. Weighing up the options as to whether checking on you tonight or waiting for tomorrow would be best.
Then there was the fact he wasn’t sure if it was as your best friend or as someone who hopes for something more.
The lines blurred, practically erased. A speech is likely needed, but he’s as poor with words as he is with owning how he feels, so it’s easier to stuff them down—to drive away, wait.
It’s why he grabbed it to begin with. Why he’d been grabbing them since you put the darn rule in place anyway. A habit, a part of his routine seeing you—a thing he did to show you that you mattered, were important, cared for.
Which is why he’d wrestled with him again on whether to leave it in the car when he walked up to your front door or not.
“You broke a rule.”
You look glum, defeated. Whatever your working week had done to you, it had stolen more from you than you’d been able to—never mind willing to give.
And it fractured a part of him. Made his shoulders sink, his heart sinks—because nothing hurt him more than the look on your face. The one which should be full of smiles and twinkling eyes.
Kissing your cheek, he closes your front door behind him. “I think you’ll forgive me.”
You just snort. Momentarily smothering the sadness that had been there before he’d showed you the bottle—whatever had upset you buried, all of it being quickly hidden as you placed the wine down and picked up your water bottle.
It forces more confusion to swirl inside of him, more so as you begin to go back and forth with him on food, on what he wants to watch, and whether he wants to share a blanket or have his own.
He replies in his usual tone, even if his attention is split into equal parts—one part focused on the little things you do, the mannerisms you’re not aware to pretend. The other on the IKEA furniture he built, the memories pricking him, needling, making the zipper of his jeans suddenly feel uncomfortable over his cock.
“Work been okay?”
Your mouth falls open, all set to answer, but then something shifts in your eyes. A shadow—possibly—it dancing across the plain, suddenly all but desperate to thump its way out.
Then the words never come. Swallowing instead, discarding whatever you'd been about to say—pushing it back before any lingering parts of it are blinked away as you offer a nod.
“Yeah. Yours?” you answer, but your tone isn’t right.
It’s flat, without its usual infliction. There isn't any edge to your words, nor a tease or taunt, not even a Morales in sight. And, the smile you paint doesn’t quite reach the eyes.
It’s practically humming now, the fact something is wrong. It simmers, hanging around, whistling through the air.
Yet, you don’t break, don’t confess it all to him like you had once done with such ease. Instead, you just smear another smile on your face, nudging him, phone in hand as you mumble about food options and what he wants as you lead him to the sofa.
He knows on the surface, it looks the same—how the night is playing out. But it’s different. In all the ways he doesn’t want to put his finger on, and doesn’t want to acknowledge. Not as you order food, not as you chew the inside of your cheek as you wait for the order to be accepted.
Even less so when you mumble about the film, reaching for your remotes.
It's then he decides what he wants to do is take the remote from your hand as soon as you pick it up. Frankie wants to hold your fingers in his, even place a kiss on your wrist. He wants to place two fingers under your chin, and ask you again to tell him what has happened—wanting to be let him in, be shared with.
He wants you close, and not like friends do. A need to have your head to his chest, his fingers sliding gentle strokes against your cheek and neck, offering comfort, providing it in plenty.
His own head turns the options over, planning it out, trying to guess what the various outcomes are. Which, by the time he reacts, instead of managing to grasp your hand, he knocks the remote from your hand with a clatter.
Ears burning, he feels your glare before he truly appreciates it. It ripples out over him before it’s blinked away—a momentary flood of fire licking at his skin.
In the oddest way, it’s at least reminiscent of the person he knows. The sharpness in your eyes is more a friend to him right now than the gnawing going on in his chest. Especially, while the rest of you is lost to whatever you’re trying to pretend doesn’t exist.
“What?”
It’s simple, one word.
Almost feels normal. It's all sharp and layered, just like it usually is. Followed by your body sinking into the array of cushions you decorate your sofa with as you pull up his pick, rolling your head to him—nail-picking at the battery cover on your remote.
And he wants to ask again—just like he always would have done.
Instead, Frankie places his hand on your knee, thumb and index swirling over the cloth-covered bone as you look at the television briefly, before flicking back to him.
In the silence, it’s louder—the whistling. It's suddenly accompanied by the noticeable noise of your brain whirring, your cogs turning.
“Talk to me,” he whispers, but secretly he's pleading, begging.
He watches as your teeth pick at your lip, snuggling yourself further into the couch—knee abutting his leg as you sigh. “It's... nothing. Can we... can we just watch the movie?”
“Hey, of course we can. Is…”
He can't ask.
Fearful of asking. A lump forms in his throat, sticking, thickening second by second as he flicks his eyes over you.
Before you can blink it away, he spots it again. The shift in your eyes.
This time instead of a shadow, they fill with water. They vanish any part of your truth that wished to escape in its drowning. Before he can poke and push, you blink it away as quickly as it had first arrived.
And it needles him, pricks at his skin and stabs into his chest, twisting and twisting and twisting—
“I just… wanted my best friend,” you mumble.
“That it?”
You seem to fight it, whatever it is inside of you, before you curl against his arm again, tugging your blanket up closer. “I really missed you this week, that's all.”
It’s been on his to-watch list for ages, and yet he’s one hour into it and he has no clue what is happening.
The pizza box is still half-open on the coffee table, your plate still remaining with picked-at food that you never really made any dent in, and he blames that as to why he doesn’t even know who the good guy is and who is bad.
Because all of the parts of his brain that usually begin working on undoing and arranging what he thinks will and is happening, are working in overdrive on you.
It's also stopping his heart from hammering even louder down your ear. Because, even if the two of you have cuddled before—lots of times—it's not been post the whole sleeping together thing.
And, it feels nice having you against him, normal, right.
He likes the way your fingers occasionally clutch him a little closer, head turned in the direction of the television and the movie he should be watching.
Instead, he's piecing together the puzzle you've thrown on the floor. The one without the box lid, so no image to compare it to. Trying to assess where you missing him, lines up with the way your bottom lip almost wobbled as you confessed it, as though it was a sin and not a virtue.
Frankie tries to line it up with the fact he knows whenever he's found a moment to himself, he’s texted you. The sea of other unread messages piling up, collecting.
It adds to the knowledge that all of the normal conversation he has with you, quickly derails, slipping into something foreign yet wonderful. Casual phone calls, divert into him with his hand around his cock, listening to you breathlessly say his name and that you wish he was there.
And that somewhere between collecting the sweet noises you make and those innocent-but-not-innocent moments, are the soft moments he has where you’re resting—where Frankie has realised, decided and accepted, that there is nowhere else he likes being.
Not a single place.
Because he wants this.
Frankie wants the calmer person he is when he's around you, the thoughts which are less intrusive. He likes that the rain barely bothers him when he has you in his arms, that he doesn’t even overthink, if anything he just plans. Considering things, turning them over, thinking of a future that begins to sketch itself out and colour itself in.
Something which has been doing so since the time in the car.
Your words rolling and rolling, stitching themselves to other phrases you’ve let slip, until he’s sewing things together to create a gallery, a museum of moments he loves admiring and replaying when the world goes silent.
That's when he notices the movie, the shit-show of a plan formed involving a helicopter, and the words roll from him without stopping.
"That would never fuckin' happen. Not—can you imagine, if I said to you—" and he rambles. Feels himself doing so. So comfortable and at ease more and more things just flow and fall from his lips.
Even when the scene changes in the movie, more bright light than the softer one from before, forcing him to blink—he is still detailing how inaccurate it is. Only slowing to nothing when he realises you’re looking up at him. Hanging on to every word as though he's a poet reading something beautiful.
He feels the way they tracing him then, lightly glazing over all his features as he slowly holds your stare.
Because it’s the kind of gaze he sees in the movies you make him watch. The lingering ones—a blend of both fiery and craving. It all peppered with yearning, and swirling in so much he suspects you don’t want to say.
“You’re going to miss the movie.”
Blinking, you smile. Feeling you flick your eyes from him to his mouth. “Am I?”
Your smile slides further into your cheek, and he can’t help but brush his thumb over it. A dire need to touch you, brush your soft skin and remind himself how you feel.
He doesn’t expect it, but he likes that you curl into his hand. It allows him to trace his fingers along your jaw, down the side of your neck. Half-expecting you to tell him to stop, that tonight isn’t about that.
You don’t.
Instead, your hand cups his against your cheek, staring at him, lit up by the flickering scenes neither of you are paying attention to.
Faintly, blooming out in the shimmer of your eyes, he thinks he sees it again—what he thinks is adoration. It mixing, blending, swirling with care, love…
“Thought you wanted your best friend?”
“I do,” you say, low, just above a whisper, “So, take care of me.”
A second passes as your words drip into the air.
So take care of me.
His eyes flick over you. Likely needing you to say it again, give permission, tell him you want this.
You do. Fuck you do.
Your heart hammering against your chest like a drum because of it. All unable to speak, fearful, fucking petrified, with how much you want him.
Because all you do is want him, and if you speak, you worry you won’t stop telling him that.
Let it fall, leak. Slip out and stain like oil on a sheet.
Because you know it's only normal to miss him this much for one reason, and one reason alone. It's the same reason why you want him, crave him, and feel so desperate for him that you can’t think or breathe. It is all-encompassing, looming, forever there in between the days you don't see him and the waiting on replies to texts.
It’s so close to your tongue, held back only by your teeth.
It could come out, could escape. So you keep your mouth clamped shut. It is better, easier, and less bothersome than telling him you’ve been counting down the hours, minutes, and seconds until you could have your hands on him. Not for this, not because he makes you feel good and beautiful and wanted, but because you feel better. Happier. More you. You feel safe, like no bad work day could ever touch you.
“Querida…”
“I want y—”
The rest of your words are swallowed, stolen. Frankie seals his mouth over yours, barely needing a sentence, just enough.
And it’s searing, full of ache as his hands pull you close, your body singing, itching to come alive—has been since the scent of just him hit your nose.
The worst of days doesn’t matter when he’s around you, less so when his lips marry to yours, when he licks into your mouth, when he breathes you in, and you breathe him.
No one else has ever made you feel like he does.
Not the way your feet almost kick out when his message arrives, a smile gracing your mouth without control when he calls you.
Because he’s different, but then he always has been.
There's always been something, it thriving and growing, embedding vines you pretend are just because you're good friends. But you know, you do. It's hard not to.
Frankie saves you, oblivious to the silent plea for rescue—he just knows. He gets you. Understands every inch of you now, you're unsure how anyone else can ever read you as well. He's someone you could confidently rely on, knowing he’d never leave you alone, not even in the dark—forever a light, a way home.
You think you’re that for him too. Hope so anyway.
He moans your name. Kissing you like he never wishes to stop. He acts like he wants to drown in you, be overflowed by you, and fuck you want the same.
Mine. That’s what you want to say.
Instead, you bury it in a low moan when his mouth captures yours, tongue sliding past your teeth as his hands come to rest on your cheeks. Each touch softer, gentler—from the way he moves his fingers over your cheek, to the way he slides them over your jaw, landing on your neck.
Then, his mouth comes to your ear, breath dancing, all flooded with the flickering television—let’s go to your bed.
He doesn’t rip, he peels your layers off, leaving a trail leading right to your room. He smothers your body with his, his palm remaining flat to your spine, leading, hooking his fingers around the back of your neck as he steers you.
Careful, hermosa.
The consideration dripping from his lips like syrup, all adorned in affection, a taste you have to capture, spinning in his hold, hooking your arms around his neck as you pull him flush, close.
“Tell me you want me,” he hisses.
There's an edge that isn’t usually there but it’s pounding now, all sparkling and fucking shimmering.
You’re more sure of it when he lies you back on your sheets, his mouth exploring, taking his time, taking you to the edge with his mouth as you plead and plead—one hand sliding up over the softness of your stomach, as your back arches into him.
And you shudder, so close to your high—hips held down by his arm. “I want you, Frankie. Always want you. Want you inside of me.”
He pauses—cool air blowing over you as he flicks his eyes up from between your thighs, his skin flushes, a light beading of sweat at his hairline as he comes up onto his palms.
Watching him crawl up you, eyes enamoured, unable to look anywhere else even if they were commanded to. Because he’s more than a sight for sore eyes, he is the sight. He’s the best-looking thing you’ve ever fucking seen, clutching his face in your hands, feeling him drag the head of his cock through your slick walls, staring at you in waiting, like he couldn’t believe this is happening.
“Again,” he asks.
Taking your hand in his, he slots his fingers between yours, fitting, ever so perfectly, before he places your conjoined hands above your head. Eyes tracing up and down your frame, more so as you arch into him, hearing the breathed-out expletive as you wait for his stare to land.
“I want you.”
And, thankfully, Frankie doesn’t let you linger on it. Doesn’t allow you to hyper-focus on it, slowly sliding in, pushing in by inch until you’re full of just him—no more of him left that you can greedily take.
“Always take me so well, baby—“
“Frankie.”
You’re breathless. The air punched from your lungs—his hand remaining knotted in yours, grounding, your nails digging into his skin as his other hand finds a place on the back of your thigh, eyes dropping, all fixated on where the two of you are joined.
“Y'so good for me. Always so good for me,” he adds when his hips are flush with yours. “Take my cock so well.”
Letting his gaze return to you, you’re suddenly so grateful for the bedside lamp you’d left on hours ago because now you get to see him. Admire him, so much so, it makes your throat dry.
Able to watch his muscles contort when he moves, lips parting as he slowly cants his hips into yours, all deep strokes.
And, you know it’s still fucking, but it’s also not.
It’s a unique blend of need that feels right, and also wrong—lips messily finding yours, burying confessions as you eagerly swallow them.
Hoping your throat, lungs or stomach could begin to decipher them as you feel his hand slide down your wrist, and arm until it's cupping your face. His lips slide over your cheek, resting close to your ear, whispering compliments. Because he has to tell you that you’re gorgeous, he says; that you're always so stunning.
Each word that lands has more than an effect on you, as he stutters when you clench around him.
Mouth wrapped around an exclamation of his name as he slides out and sinks back into you.
Frankie has always felt big, but from this angle, like this—he’s somehow deeper, filling you more. He's in your soul. It all filthy and romantic and obscene, but it feels so good, makes heat bloom through your hips and up into your spine, it twisting, eroding the bad day, the bad week.
In a sense, he’s the perfect antidote. A person you trust, care for, lo—
“You’re perfect, you know that?”
Frankie’s hand slides back to grip yours, pressing it down—lightly against the pillow above you, before placing the other beside it. And he’s enveloped in part shadows and the light from the table, blessed in golden hues, giving just enough to see how wild his eyes are and how deep the brown in them goes, how blown his pupils are.
“Do you know how beautiful you look right now?”
You feel your cheeks warm, your ears—every bit of skin on show suddenly inflamed because of his words. His mouth lapping at your breasts, all arched into him, hips steadily meeting his.
“Always are, really.”
“Well. You’re handsome, Morales.”
It’s intentional, adding his surname. Taking the softness out of it, removing what you can, and adding barriers and throwing up walls.
He still sucks in a breath, eyes lingering on yours, fingers dropping to brush a line up and down your cheek as he continues to slide his cock in and out of you. You moan as the head of him keeps kissing that part deep inside you.
It’s different.
You know it; he likely does too. Thankful he slants his mouth over yours. Slowly rocking with you, thrusting into you as you murmur his name, it falling enriched in moans.
From the way you both kiss, to the way you keep an arm around his neck, desperate to keep as much of him against yours.
“You feel so good, Frankie.” Your fingers scratch at the base of his neck. “Always make me feel so full.”
Stuffed really. Packed in. Clenching around him, all tightening, purposefully wrapping your walls around him until he groans right into your ear. Each drag of his cock in and out feeling exquisite, perfect, amazing.
It’s never been like this with others, never been like this even with him. His fucked out face, the grunts and groans coming from deep within make your thighs unable to stop their twitching as fire floods up your spine and the way he plunges you in lust-filled brown.
And you clutch his face, feverish from him, quivering, shaking. Burying the words, “So close, I’m gonna—fuck, I’m close baby,” against his mouth.
Pressing each letter in, stamping it—ensuring he knows it’s him doing this to you. Making a mess of you. The only person you ever want to make a mess out of you.
It thumping inside of you, hammering—all balled up fists and desperation because you want to tell him. Shout it at him. Paint the walls in it as he paints yours in white.
“Need you, Frankie.”
It’s close to the truth. Barely an inch from it.
“I know, need you too. Need to feel you come around me, hermosa. I need it, please. Please give it to me. Let me feel—fuck—feel you coming around my cock.”
And you hear it, the way he pleads—as well as realise the double meaning. You in the car, whispering words so close to the ones he’s spilling now.
“I will if you stay.”
He doesn’t still, but he does jolt. A hesitation in his pistoning.
Then he drops to his elbows around your face, cradling you, caging you in, as he kisses you—sloppily, messily, sweetly. It’s soft, but also full of heavy moans he wishes to force down your throat. It’s indulgent, a thing you never thought you’d have so now you take as much of it as you can get.
“Course I’ll stay. Never—fuck—anywhere I want to be but here, baby. Nowhere else.”
His eyes fix on you, digging the words in.
And, even if you knew it before, you realise how under your skin he is. How he’s woven in around tendons and ligaments, found a home, left marks against your bones you never want to rid.
You’re sure it’s that and not the words which make everything else mute.
Even if it’s all you can hear. Not the television in the other room, not the headboard clattering against the wall, not the sounds you’re making each time he drags his cock through your walls.
Just his words. Whatever he blesses you in. Your thoughts are all incoherent other than that. All shaky, practically vibrating; all gasping and torturous heavy heat, all unable to breathe and yet never wanting any of this to stop.
His hand slides around your thigh, pulling on your knee, bringing it closer as his grip almost grows bruising on you. He’s deep. Fucking into you so hard, hearing the concoction of his hisses, gasps and moans, before his mouth lands back on yours.
It’s overwhelming. The height you’ve reached, the way your mouth is only able to say his name as you watch him lick his thumb and distinctly feel it slide between the two of you. Finding it. Barely struggling to press the pad of it to your bundle of nerves before you lock up, the knot tightening, almost ripping inside of you.
It fraying from how much you’re fighting it, so close to bursting—
Then he draws quicker circles, all persistent, expertly, and you snap.
It surging, all white-hot, all blistering and mind-melting. You become both light and heavy all at once, your nails finding purpose in his side and your sheets, twisting, knotting to root yourself in this, in him—in how much you fucking love him.
“Fuck, querida—that’s it.”
You can’t respond, can’t even think up a response, but you do yank his mouth to yours. Pressing those three words there, laying them down, as well as thanking him, over and over until you slide your mouth against his cheek.
“Be good for me now, Frankie.”
His eyes flick to you, all ablaze and engulfed in want. And so you nod, knowing he can see it, feel it.
“Look so good, baby,” you add.
The noise is strained that comes from him, all sucked in breath. Then, his hips stammer, convulsing, all strangled, tightly entangled in a mess of your name and fuck.
And you kiss him.
Happily licking into his mouth to taste how delicious his moan is.
You try to fight the way your heart drops when you return from using the bathroom. Biting the inside of your mouth as you see the bed empty, sheets a mess, your throat swallowing back whatever sob wishes to escape.
Because the edges of your happiness crumble, your arm wrapping around the other, bottom lip almost wobbling.
That is, until you feel his hand on your lower back. Your head turns quickly, seeing him there. All hair-wild, and soft smile.
“Water, baby?”
Smiling, you thank him, taking several sips before handing it back to him, watching him do the same. Studying the way his throat bobs as he does, the faint marks of your mouth still lingering there on his skin.
“C’mon,” he whispers, kissing your cheek. “Let’s get in bed.”
“Oh, but the—“
“I’ve sorted it. Turned it off—folded the blanket, put the plates in water.” His hand wraps itself around yours. “So, let’s sleep.”
All you can muster is an okay. It leaves soft, slightly webbed at the edges from the way it catches on the growing lump in your throat.
It isn’t until you’re curled against him,
“Is this okay?” you whisper.
He lets out a laugh, little and breathy. “More than okay, hermosa.”
Guiding your leg to hook over his. Keeping his body flush as the two of you cuddle. His thumb swipes across your cheek, forehead close to yours as his fingers fan out over your hip, and he presses a kiss to the space between your brows.
You’re pretty sure your heart just tripled in size.
And those three words, the ones which have amassed into a chunk in your chest have suddenly begun pulsing all on their own—a beat completely separate, you find, to the one which pumps blood around your body.
CHAPTER EIGHT ->
#frankie morales x reader#francisco morales x reader#francisco morales smut#Frankie morales x reader smut#frankie morales x f!reader#frankie morales x you#frankie morales#jo: iltwy#triple frontier x reader#francisco morales fanfiction#triple frontier fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#francisco catfish morales x reader#catfish morales x reader#frankie morales smut#triple frontier smut#frankie morales x f!reader smut#pedrostories
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Okay? Okay.
You end up needing to run a few errands at the same time Aegon has his weekly therapist's appointment, so you decide to drop him off and pick him up. But when he gets back in the car, he's desperate for affirmation. It seems the topic of his appointment was his parent's marriage
Pairing: Modern!Aegon Targaryen x Reader (2nd person)
Warnings: kissing, car sex, semi-public sex, discussions of Vizzy T x Alicent, Aegon is actually pretty tame here suprisingly
This work is a part of my 12 Days of Smuff event! Read the rest here.
My Masterlist
Okay? Okay.
Prompt: Reassurance & Car Sex
It was a dreary day, the skies a light gray that seemed to suck the color out of everything. You knew it would only get grayer and drearier as the snowstorm grew closer and closer. But you had a few hours before it hit. Which meant you had to go to the grocery store to grab as much as you could amongst the chaos of every person in town trying to do the same thing you were.
And also, that you had to drive your boyfriend, Aegon, to his weekly therapy appointment, as he didn’t have a car equipped to handle winter road conditions.
He would never risk his precious wrapped BMW M8, which he called “Sunfyre,” like that. It wouldn’t leave the garage attached to your small rental if there was even a one percent chance of rain. Which meant it pretty much never left the garage.
Your 24-year-old Mazda5 – aka “Zoomie” – however, could handle anything.
Indeed, she made it to the therapy office without issue. You were about to gloat to Aegon when you saw the glum look on his face. “Hey,” you said softly, reaching to pat his shoulder. “You alright?”
Aegon looked at you, obviously not alright, but he shrugged and gave you a half-hearted smile. “Fine. Just rather be back at home, you know? I’m almost done with my Dark Urge run, so…”
You nodded, assuring him he’d have plenty of time to finish up once the storm blew in. He seemed to cheer up slightly at that and opened his door.
“Want anything from the store?” You asked as he was halfway out of the car.
Aegon thought for a moment, his eyes narrowing and one corner of his mouth curling up. Then, his entire face brightened. “Cosmic brownies?”
You laughed a little, leaning over the center console to kiss him one more time. “I’ll get two boxes, just to be safe.”
-
You’d nearly had to fight a woman to get the last two boxes of cosmic brownies, but when you pulled up to the therapy office again, they were sitting safely in the front seat. But when Aegon pushed off the wall and got back in the car, he just tossed them into the backseat with the rest of the groceries.
It threw you off for a second. Then you saw that Aegon’s eyes were distant and red-rimmed, and he staunchly refused your gaze.
“Aeg? What’s wrong?” You were instantly in protective girlfriend mode. Therapy was supposed to help him, and you’d never seen him come home in such a state before.
He shook his head, “I just…” you watched him sniffle and rub at his nose. “Hard session today, that’s all.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
The left side of his lips quirked up for only a second. “That’s what the therapy is for, babe.”
This wasn’t his usual humor – that usually had some hint of suggestiveness or immaturity. He was only this witty, or at least nearly so, when he was upset. Very upset.
“Aegon, please,” you said softly. He understood what was left unspoken – be serious.
He finally turned to you, his usually bright, joyful face drawn and tired. “Babe,” his hand tentatively reached out to yours. “Can we go somewhere else for this?”
You nodded and put the car in drive. “Yeah, we should go home anyway, the storm – ”
“Not home, either. Somewhere like, random.”
Though you weren’t sure what ‘random’ meant, you just started driving. Aegon never spoke, never commented on the winding path you drove through town. You heard a few sniffles and sharp breaths, but you never looked his way. He felt so fragile, like even a wrong look could shatter him. What the hell had that therapist talked about?
Eventually, you found yourself at a relatively secluded park, utterly abandoned in anticipation of the storm. You pulled the car into a parking spot, and waited.
By the time Aegon began, the first few snow flurries had started to fall.
“We talked about my parents today,” he started. “Not about my dad or any of his bullshit, but about both of them. Their relationship.”
That was a subject you hadn’t heard much about. You knew about his mother’s overbearing nature and the pressure she’d put on him his whole life, and about the distance that had always existed between him and his father. The favoritism Viserys always showed his elder half-sister. You could count on one hand the number of stories Aegon had told you where his father actually spoke to him.
But their relationship was never something he talked about. You were under the impression that there wasn’t one at all, really.
“My mom…” a glint of reluctant affection shone in his eyes. “She’s a lot younger than my dad. I don’t remember exactly, but I know it’s something like twenty-five, thirty years or so.”
You had always just assumed his dad looked so much older because he was so sick. This was just gross.
Aegon took your hand and squeezed. “Before they got married, my mom was Rhaenyra’s best friend.”
Super gross.
“That’s why they don’t get along. Rhaenyra thinks my mom seduced her father, and my mom felt abandoned by her best friend. But it’s more than that, I think… I think my dad did love my mom, at least at first. I can see it in their wedding photos. He even looked at me like he loved me, in pictures from when I was a baby.
“But after Helaena was born, he looked different. Like he was only with her at the hospital because he had to be, or that he was only at my third birthday party because someone had forced him to. I’m not sure what changed, but it did. My mom still cared about him, but to him, the rest of us were just like, a job or something.”
You grabbed his hand and brought it up to your lips to kiss. “I’m so sorry, baby.”
He shook your hand a little before continuing. “I don’t get why they stayed together. It only ever made the rest of us miserable. How Aemond and Daeron happened is honestly a mystery.”
Everything he was telling you sucked, sure. But he hadn’t started tearing up like he did when you first asked him what was wrong. So when he again went silent, you nudged him on. “Aegon?”
He took a deep breath and turned to you. “Are you going to get bored of me? Decide you don’t actually love me and just… treat me like he did?” Tears ran down his face faster than the snow falling outside your little car.
“Oh, Aegon,” you set your hands on his cheeks and pulled him close so you could kiss his forehead. “Never. I will never treat you like that. I will never get bored of you. I love you so much, Aegon.”
A sob escaped him at your words, and he draped his arms around you, nuzzling his face into your neck as he cried. “I love you, too.”
You continued kissing all over his face as you whispered your reassurance repeatedly. Once he’d calmed, he started kissing you back. And since Aegon was Aegon, kissing could never just be kissing.
When he pulled you over the center console, you were very glad no one else was around – you weren’t graceful at all. But your embarrassment faded as Aegon's hands slipped beneath your leggings, one hand teasing your entrance while the other settled on your ass, guiding you in rolling against the harness growing in his pants.
“Can we get arrested for this?” He asked as he pushed your leggings down and frantically lowered his own sweatpants.
You sighed in delight as you sank onto his cock, savoring the stretch. He wasn’t the longest you’ve ever had, but he was thick, and it was wonderful. “We can, but only if someone sees us.”
He laughed, taking your bottom lip gently between his teeth and pulling slightly as he brought his hands to your waist to support you as you began to ride him slowly. “Thank the gods for the snowstorm, then.”
Words were quickly abandoned. At first, you’d wanted to take this slowly, to show him exactly how much you loved him. But Aegon wasn’t patient, and soon began thrusting into you as fast as he could, the car rocking beneath you.
Aegon came first, biting down on his shoulder to stop his screams. One of his hands dropped to your pearl and began rubbing furiously, until you screamed yourself and clamped down on his length, pulling a pitiful whine from him.
“You okay?” you whispered, holding him as close as you could.
Aegon smiled slightly. “I’m okay.”
Thanks to your activities, the car windows had fogged. You leaned over to wipe away the condensation and saw the snow falling harder now, the ground completely covered. “Okay, help me back up,” you commanded. “We’ve gotta get home quick.”
“Don’t worry,” he whispered, leaning back down to kiss your neck. “We can stay a little longer. Zoomie’ll plow through the snow to get us home.”
#aegon ii targaryen#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon x reader#aegon x oc#aegon ii fic#aegon ii x reader#aegon ii x oc#aegon ii fanfic#aegon ii#hotd#hotd fanfic#modern hotd#modern aegon
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I couldn't help wanting to write something ridiculous with spawn!Astarion learning to turn into a bat. And then I got thinking about how the tadpole nerfs spawn powers. AU, post-canon, Tav/Astarion. About 1.3k?
Lora's feeling out a new riff, trying to work out if there's enough of a solid foundation for it to become a song, when there's a thunk and tinkle from the kitchen.
Shit.
She sneaks through, knowing that Astarion's probably doing the same, if he's all right. If he's not… best to take in the situation.
A vase rolls past her through the doorway. There's a small flappy sound, like someone's just pulled a sheet of leather taut. What -? An undead, perhaps? She pokes her head round the corner.
There, sprawled on the kitchen countertop where she normally chops vegetables she'll be the only one eating, next to a fallen jar of herbs, is a bat. Big, albeit not as gigantic as some she's fought who turned out to be vampires in disguise; still, it's got an impressive wingspan, one of them hanging off the counter like a curtain. Or, she thinks, absurdly, the way Astarion likes to dramatically hang an arm off a fainting couch, while he's reading a book. He'll not be impressed by that comparison.
Her unexpected visitor is albino, and… fluffy. Really fluffy, chest like the world's smallest thick fur rug, or like it's got a little proud collar. Small, clawed feet are sticking inelegantly in the air, not quite spread-eagled (spread-batted?), as if it's going to try and jump back onto them. But who's heard of bats standing?
…Unless it's a vampire lord. But there aren't any of those after them - well, not anymore. And they're usually better at the whole bat thing. Less of crashing into Astarion's favourite vase.
How in the hells did it get in? It's not like she left a window open; both she and Astarion are a tad too paranoid for that.
It's not dead, at least: its chest is moving furiously. Makes sense. Bats are smaller, probably with a faster heartbeat. If it's in pain - well, she hopes it's not in pain.
She's got no idea how to escort it off the premises. It's not that she's got a problem with bats - more that she's certain neither she, nor the bat, signed up for this. An angry wild animal? She has visions of it hanging from her finger by its teeth. Though honestly, she had a similar vision with Astarion, and things turned out pretty well there. But they're only borrowing this place for a while - she called in a favour. That favour probably didn't include bat tenants.
Edging closer, she notes that it doesn't seem to be moving. Knocked itself out? Oh, that's not ideal. Though maybe she can sneak it out before it wakes up… No, from what she can see - one red eye - it's just staring at the ceiling. Almost glumly, if a bat can be glum.
And then it spots her, and… lifts its wings to hide its face. In embarrassment.
White fur. Red eyes. The way he looks when he's caught between trying to brazen it out or stalking off to hide his cringing.
“...Astarion?”
Its - his ears twitch, and he raises a wing, holds it there. The way he'll raise a hand in acknowledgement and Don't even say it.
She blinks, and whistles a few notes, hits a high C - there. Speak with animals. That should do it. “Are you hurt?” she tries; it’s been a while since she’s done this spell without a lute.
“Only my pride,” he mutters, mulish and with the slightest nasality - makes sense, between a flat snout and fangs. “I think your basil came off worse than I did.”
She stares. Definitely strange, hearing that familiar wry voice come out of a bat. “What happened?” He’s normally so pretty - the kind of pretty he endlessly preens about. The pinkness of his nose is oddly adorable against white fur, but she suspects he’s ended up as a vampire bat. Apparently, vampire bats look like they’ve crashed face-first into a wall. Which he most likely has, but she suspects that’s no explanation for the horseshoe-shaped nose and his little squinting eyes. It's sort of cute. If you're very, very drunk. Or if you're overly fond of a grumpy vampire.
“Nothing we need talk about,” he says hastily. He rubs a thumb over his face. “I’m sure I’ll work out how to change back in a moment.”
“You’re not stuck like this, are you?”
He casts a narrow look at her with those blood-red eyes - different, and yet so very familiar. “Darling, are you saying you wouldn’t love me if I were a rodent?”
“Astarion.”
He stretches a wing experimentally: pale, thin skin and white fingers. “I don’t… think so. There’s already a sort of - itch under my skin, like I just have to yawn hard enough and, pop. But first, I need to brood.”
“I thought only Cazador could turn into a bat.”
“Into a cloud of bats, my dear.” He gestures at himself with a folded wing, more stiffly than his usual - difficult, when your arm doesn’t bend the same way. “Do I look like a cloud?”
She can’t help her grin at that. “I don’t know. You are all white and fluffy.”
He sighs, loudly. When she reaches out a slow, careful hand, however, he doesn’t move - even in this form, he’d dodge. Or she’d get an annoyed warning nip for her trouble, she’s sure of it. Fangs are second nature to him. As is how to be gentle with them, by now.
She says, “I love your ears.” She strokes a fingertip carefully over them; they twitch underneath it. “Look at the size of them!”
“Ugh. If you’re about to make an elf joke, I have one word of advice for you: don’t.” It’s deeply surreal watching a bat roll its eyes.
“I wasn’t! Is your hearing better like this?”
“Much.” He makes an expression that’s probably meant to be a grimace, but on a slightly squashed bat-face, it’s not so different. “I can hear the tavern three doors away. Their bard isn’t nearly so good as you.”
She strokes between his ridiculous rabbity ears, just with a finger, lightly; big as he is for a bat, he’s so tiny. Even tinier than usual. She'd hate to hurt him. “Have I mentioned I love you?”
“Yes, yes, I know you’re weak to flattery.” But there’s warmth in his voice.
“Do you want to hop up? I feel like you won’t want to turn back into yourself on the counter.”
“Please. That test flight - flights, really - was exhausting. No-one warned me there would be so much flapping. I thought creatures of the night would be fonder of a smooth glide, but no.”
She holds out an arm - and then there’s a bat clinging to her woollen shirt with thumbs and little claws. Clinging being the operative word. He climbs up her a little uncertainly, holding tight while she stays as still as she can, until he arrives on her shoulder, flopping there with a dramatic sigh.
She heads through to the lounge, and beside her ear, a small voice says, “I’ve been able to do… more, since our wriggling little unwelcome passengers were removed. I don’t know if it’s that or simply not starving. Honestly, I thought the bat thing was a myth. For spawn, anyway - we get the rather inferior part of the ‘vampire powers’ arrangement. But the claws have come back, and the agility. I’ve never felt so strong. It’s… strange. And a little intoxicating.” She can’t quite raise a brow at him when he’s so close to her, but he clearly gets the idea, because he adds hastily, “As in, I’m rather happy. Not as in ‘I’m about to become a cackling vampire lord.’ We’ve... covered that one already. It’s more - is this what it’s meant to be like? Being a spawn? Not a starved slave?” His voice is soft, with a genuine, non-snarling curiosity to it. A little amazement. She feels him shuffle just a bit closer to her, wing curling a little around her back.
Sometimes he doesn’t like to be touched when he’s thinking about the bad old days, but this clearly isn’t one of those times. At that, she has to sit in an armchair, and reach up, offering a hand to her shoulder. He clambers onto it, with the kind of instant trust that makes her chest ache - though he does give her a puzzled look while he shuffles about to get comfortable and sits on her knuckles. He folds his wings neatly, primly, in a way that’s so him she’d laugh in any other circumstance. She sneaks over her other hand and strokes his pointy pale head, runs a soothing couple of fingers over his back. She feels sad for him, but also, Lathander, he’s so fluffy. She could happily do this for a while.
The flap of wings startles her. What - ?
Being hugged by a bat is more like having a very strange necklace. One that hooks its thumbs into the back of her shirt collar, accidentally tugging it wider, ears twitching against her neck in a way that’s almost ticklish, tiny heart fluttering against her collarbone. She holds him there with a hand, thumb stroking through his fur. He murmurs, “I just wished, and this time…”
The smallest cloud of mist blooms. She blinks, and the world is suddenly rather heavier. It could be the rogue sitting side-saddle in her lap, his arms around her neck, grinning at her. He blinks in a little surprise.
“...there I was. Hello, darling.” Leaning in, he brushes a swift, smiling kiss to her cheek.
She reaches up and runs a hand through his hair, the way she knows he likes even if it ruins his pomade. “You were very cute.”
“Of course I was. I was adorable.” He winces. “Aside from looking like I’d run face-first into a carriage.”
“You were cute!”
“Hm. Good for scouting tucked-away places that the owners don’t want us to be, however.” His happiness takes on a fiendish edge.
“You’re going to pick locks with your little thumbs?”
The idea seems to delight him rather than offend. “Once I learn how? Absolutely.” He swoons dramatically, leaning back over the chair arm. “Now, darling, I find I’ve utterly run out of energy.” He darts her a look from under his hand. “It must have been the transformation. I don’t know if I can even find it in me to stagger to bed.”
She raises a brow. “Really?”
“Really. I’m just… utterly drained. It’s a mystery.” He holds his arms out. “Would you mind?”
While she’s carrying him through to her room, she says, “I know what you’re doing.”
“Oh?” he asks smugly, arms still wound around her neck. “And what’s that?”
“You’re going to pull me in with you.”
Pouting, he says, “How dare you. I’ll have you know I’m an honourable man. Well. I'm a man.”
“You’re going to pull me in with you and make me cuddle you to sleep.”
“When you put it like that, it sounds disgustingly juvenile. True, but juvenile.”
“This was easier when you were less than a kilogram of fur.” Not that she minds him being a bit heavier. It’s a relief, compared to how bird-boned he sometimes felt under all the muscle in the early, hungry days.
“I can fix that.” There’s a tiny poof! and then… a self-satisfied bat fluttering awkwardly to sit on top of her head.
She reminds him, “Watch the hair while you’re surveying your kingdom.”
“I could get used to this.”
“I’m never getting used to this.”
#batstarion#astarion x tav#astarion ancunin#Astarion#BG3 spoilers#bg3 epilogue spoilers#My fic#lora mctavish#Stupid ridiculous fluff (and I don't just mean how fluffy he is)#baldur's gate 3
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hiya!
Could you do Prince Nuada from Hellboy 2 and reader?
This one has taken me a while- Also thank you for reigniting the LOVE I had for Prince Nuada! Ugh! So sexy!!
I do hope this is to your liking since it did take some warping.
1. I gotta keep Nuada and Nuala alive so the ending didn't happen
2. Introduce elements from the comics aka Hellboy had adopted siblings.
OKAY ENJOY! I TRIED HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
Half Breed
Prince Nuada x FemReader
Support me on Ko-Fi I'm poor!
After the fortunately failed suicide attempt from Nuala which had horribly injured both twins- Nuafa had been captured and the two rushed back to the Bureau for emergency treatment, Which fortunately allowed the Elves to survive the whole ordeal.
Nuada had been placed in custody of B.P.R.D first as a high level prisoner for many months after his attempt to wipe out humanity.
After being in solitary confinement for far too long a deal was struck with him to work for the organization due to his knowlege of the world and to get out of solitary help all that had been damaged.
He had agreed- begrudgingly and because Nuala insisted.. it had been nearly a year of this all- When something interesting took place.
Nuala and Abe walked down the corridors together, talking about recent books they had shared before Abe paused.
"Oh?-" He looked around calmly before seeing the warning lights come down shining blue instead of the normal red for emergencies.
"Is there an emergancy?" Nuala questioned, a bit nervous of what it could mean, But Abe gently touched her shoulder with his gloved hand.
"No no- Just a old friend. Everytime she visits her and Red play a.. Game of sorts like tag" Abe explained, Nuala smiling at hearing this. Nuada who had just returned from a mission turned the corner seeing his sister and the fish man, frowning but looking to the lights.
"Whats this?" He asked shortly, Abe repeating his answer from before.
"Warning lights for a Game?" He questioned, eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"Well they are only allowed to have this game once a year and for 5 minutes- mainly due to the property damage that always happens" Abe said truthfully as the elven twins looked surprised by this. A childish game causing property damage?
As if right on cue there was a loud crash the trio turning to see Hellboy running full force in their direction like a train.
"MOVE MOVE!" He yelled loudly, as he ran past them. This was the fastest any of them had seen him run even in a life or death situation, right as he was about to turn the corner a black boot came barrowing down on the side of his cheek, knocking him to the ground hard before the smaller figure ran down the hall Red had just gone through.
"You're it!" She yelled and the trio watched- There running past was a women. Dressed in all black leather tactical gear with her silver hair in a long braid, the ends a sunset gold- (Y/S/C) skin with unique etchings found in only elvish culture paired with amber eyes. It didn't take a genius to figure see what she was-
"Timer Abe!" She yelled, Abe looking to the small watch he carried.
"4 minutes and 26 seconds left- Also happy youve returned safely" He called out to (Y/N) who dashed down the hallway.
Nuada eyes widened as he couldnt help but follower her with his gaze, something about her drew him in. The trio sticking to the walls as they tried to follow the action- it was like a massive battle taking black between a giant and a tiny titan. While Red was slamming into walls cracking cement with his weight and arm- (Y/N) was doing flips and hung to the light fixtures above to keep an advantage.
"Happy to see you too!!!"
He could only describe himself as being mesmerized by her.. Every turn, giggle and jump just seemed to bewitch him and it terrified him.. It wasn't till a loud alarm snapped him his gaze making him jump a bit in surprise- the game was over it seemed and Hellboy returned with his sister, the demon clearly glum from losing.
Nuala eyes widened as she watched (Y/N) jump around Hellboy with a happy smile at winning the game. Figuring what she was but disbelieving of course even after this entire endeavor. A leath-fola. A Half-Blood Actually existed in this world? The embodiment of a union between a human and one of his own kind-
"I win Red! So that's 28 for me and 25 for you. Best luck next you!" She said cheerfully as Hellboy grumbled and pushed her head away with his small hand.
"Yada Yada short stack-"
She noticed the looks of the two meeting their gazes and Nuada immediately felt his heart beat pick up- Confused by the sensation he glanced to Nuala assuming it must be her however she seemed calm and relaxed.
"New Agents?" She questioned looking at the twins, Abe nodding with a 'smile'
"Prince Nuada of the Bethmora clan.. This here is my sister Princess Nuala" He introduced both formally, watching how her smile seemed to radiate as he spoke. It made him feel like he had had stepped into the sun for the first time in years..
"It's lovely to meet you both! It's so lovely to have new faces here in the facility" She said cheerfully, reaching out in a friendly matter and patting both twins on the shoulders.
It felt like Nuada had been shocked by the most pleasant bit of electricity that left him flustered and confused. His sister finally glancing at him as she felt his emotions and gaze a smile, a twinkle of what could only be described as mischief in her golden gaze.
"Yes.. new faces... now if you'll excuse me" Nuada said quickly before dismissing himself- trying to control the panic that was eating him on the inside and the warmth that bloomed in his body. He practically ran back to the space he was forced to call a room and lock himself inside. Nuada stood in his room pacing back and forth. His mind racing and heart uneasy- unknowingly for hours as he tried to calm himself from the sudden feelings that seemed to slam into him.
A knock on the door bringing him from his thoughts as he quickly opened the door, surprised to see his sister standing there in a evening gown.
"Sister, what are you doing up? You should be resting.." He said softly, allowing Nuala into the room.
"I can not rest with you so worked up brother" Nuala said softly. The prince sighing as he realized he had kept her up and took a seat on the corner of the bed, Nuala sitting next to him as well.
"Well- It sounds like she is your fated partner" She pointed out and Nuada immediately felt anger in his blood.
"You're thinking about the leath-fola (Y/N)? Right?" Nuala said softly as she rubbed her brothers shoulder to comfort him. He frowned at being so obvious and also for the form of comfort.
"Yes- She... makes me uneasy" He says, lying a bit to avoid the words he wanted to use. Nuala smiling at this.
"Do not speak such foolish things-" He hissed, Nuala flinching at his harsh words.
"I am not fated to a mortal of all beings" He started but Nuala held up a hand.
"She is not a mortal however brother.. You saw" Nuada was ready to argue but couldnt- his face twisting up.. The damn half-breed was not his fated partner NOR was it going to be the siblings of the demon.
He would prove it...
For the first few weeks that (Y/N) was there, Nuada had been rude and snide. Hissing insults about her mixed blood, shoving past her or even straight up ignoring her. He expected she would take the abuse since she didnt say anything about it but he had been wrong- so terribly wrong.
It took only one time calling her "Dirty" in terms of her blood to get the hardest punch he had ever taken to the nose- It made his eyes water and fall to a knee infront of her..
She grabbed his silver hair and pulled him close so they were eye to eye-
"Listen here- Keep insulting me like this and I'm going to tear your ass a new one. I don't give a Flying fuck if your a price or whatever- I will fuck you up" She hissed at him-
Nuada felt more confused then he ever had before- The pain seemingly going with the fluttering warmth he felt in his face and blatant arousal that was Damm near impossible to miss- (Y/N) seeing his widened eyes and the flush of color on his pale face, like he was frozen and her own golden eyes traveled down at noticing some new movement.
"O-Oh-" Was all she said- Clearly just as surprised as Nuada was at this point. Her fingers carefully releasing his silver hair as warmth went to her own cheeks.
Nuada wanted a blade to the heart at this point...
#x reader#hellboy#Hellboy Golden Army#prince nuada#Princess Nuala#hellboy 2 the golden army#hellboy 2004#abe sapien#halloween#happy halloweeeeeeen#dark elf#elf x reader#half elf#teratophile#monster fucker#monster fuqqer#monster fudger
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Drive With You Forever
Chapter Four: Charles is confused
Max verstappen x lando Norris x Charles Leclerc x reader
Chapter summary: Charles leclerc has always known he's weird. Maybe it takes someone just as weird as him to discover he's not alone.
Warnings: Reader discovers sexuality is a thing, almost a car crash, injury description, allusions to past abuse
Notes: Yay! Charles content! This chapter is wicked long, btw. I got carried away... oops.
Previous <-
Masterlist
Charles Leclerc had always known he was different. He just got a confirmation during his rookie season with Sauber.
He tried to keep his head down and show his talent, yet things never went to plan.
He was glad to be racing with Max again. His rival until Max practically flew up the ranks and Charles was stuck moving at the same speed he always had. Far to slow for his liking.
Now he’d achieved his dream. It’s 2019 and he’s driving for Ferrari alongside Sebastian vettel.
Everything seemed to be okay for now. Aside from his weird attraction to his stupid rival and his girlfriend who spent majority of her time in the Ferrari garage.
He noticed it last year and made it a point to stay as far away as possible from them. And for some reason it felt like fate was laughing at him because he always ran into the two.
Awkward. Stumbling. Stuttering.
He hated himself for this. He hated that he couldn’t just be normal. Fall for someone he actually had a chance with. Not the two most taken people in the paddock.
It didn’t help the Pierre constantly talked his ear off about them. Complaining that Max never shuts up about her. A lovely nail in the coffin.
Now at Ferrari he spent so much time around her that he was mentally hitting his head on a rock.
She’s weird and doesn’t get human interactions sometimes. She literally talks about the car all the time. She’s told him a few times what the strategy should be and not to listen to Xavi. Somehow she always knows what advice he’s going to need for a race.
Max, on the other hand, was something he’d not expected. It came out of nowhere during his teenage years. They’ve known each their for so long and yet Charles had yet to hold a semi decent conversation with him.
Max is a good driver and everyone knows it. He’d blamed it on respect at first but now they are 20 and Charles can’t help but memorize every stupidly little detail about him.
He determined that he must be mentally I’ll. Or bisexual. Or both.
“Your eyes are going to get stuck if you keep staring like that.” Teases Sebastian. Charles hadn’t even realized he’d zoned in on the happy could. Max dancing poorly with her to some imaginary music. He just moves he’s eyes to the table. Hoping the German doesn’t think much about it.
“Why so glum?” Asks the older male. Charles sucks in through his teeth. He definitely doesn’t want to explain that he’s attracted to both his daughter and her boyfriend. He’d probably thing he was crazy.
“Jealous, I suppose.” He settles for.
“Of which one.” Charles snaps his head up to Sebastian. A cheeky grin spreading across his face. Surely he can’t be that easy to read, right? “Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret.”
Charles is stumbling over his words. Questions of how he knows attempt to come out but sound like gibberish. Thankfully Seb understands him.
“You make puppy eyes at both of them all the time. You should be glad they’re both oblivious. It took her and Max years to figure it out.”
The first time he’d been relieved since this conversation started. Neither of them had noticed him. His friendship with the two was as close as he was going to get and he planned to keep it that way.
~
She’d been staying with Max that night. It was hard to find time to just be in each others presence during race weekends. Her mind was racing this weekend for some reason. Her nightmares had been getting worse recently, so she opted to keep herself awake and let Max sleep.
Her head was absolutely throbbing. She’d already stopped a few nose bleeds. She even tried levitating around random objects to get some of her energy out. Nothing was working.
Her vision was going now. She didn’t want to wake Max, but she couldn’t help the cries of pain the wracked her chest. The feeling of the floor. Then a person?
This was definitely a vision. Not a small one by the looks of it. She’s had a few of these before. Where she sees more then a moment and is able ti get a clearer picture.
She’s following around Charles. The Monegasque is racing. It’s the same track they are at now. She looked at the clock. Tomorrows date. Some time around 4.
Charles’ car has a rear tire explode. His car sending him into the wall. She can see his body dangling as the car flips itself.
Then she’s back. The white hot pain still searing her veins. Max holding her gently in his lap. Why does she feel like it’s still going?
She loses sight of Max one again and is thrown into another image. Her and Max sharing an intimate moment embracing each other.
She can’t help the smile that creeps onto her face.
Someone else joins them now. Their intimate moment now being shared.
She’s confused. She’s scared. And she’s in so much pain.
~
Max held her as the pain dies down. He already had a wet rag in hand to hopefully help cool her rising body temperature and wipe away the blood that was stuck to her.
“Do you want to talk about what you saw?”
“Charles is going to crash tomorrow.”
“But you’re not going to let that happen are you?” There is a smug smile on his face. He already knows what she’s planning. Her and Charles had become relatively close since he’s been at Ferrari. Max actually thought their relationship was oddly cute in a way.
“I saw something else, also.”
“Yeah?”
"We were hugging and smiling. Then, someone else showed up. But it didn't ruin it? Like - they joined us, I guess."
Max ponders for a moment. It's not something he would've considered. It's definitely not something he would've seen himself doing.
The girl panicking on the floor makes him think she probably has no idea that it's actually pretty normal for that to happen nowadays. She's spilling words about how she'd never do that to him.
"Shush. I think we can figure this out in the morning." Max heaves her off the floor and into bed. Continuing to stroke her hair until she falls asleep.
~
She was on edge all day. She repeatedly warned Charles about his tires. She warned Seb about his tires and Charles.
It was nearing four o'clock now. She was watching the tire degradation, and Charles was getting close to not having anything left.
She ran. Ran to get on the radio and tell someone about his tires.
Thankfully, they listened. She hadn't been wrong about things yet. Charles came into the pits and got new tires.
The relief that washed over her when he crossed the finish line in one peice was immense.
Check didn't care he finished sixth. She ran to him regardless.
Charles was shocked when she jumped into his arms. She'd done this before. she always hugged him him when he was done racing. He learned early that she likes physical contact over words.
This hug was different. He could feel the tension actively leaving her muscles.
He just embraced her. Letting himself relax into her hold.
~
She was pacing in Sebs hotel room. Max had been attempting to get her to relax her body. Seb was sitting at the table watching the two go back and forth. Then there was Lewis.
Max had told him the interesting predicament they'd found themselves in. Seb had not really understood everything about it, and Max was doing a terrible job at trying to explain it to him. So he had asked Lewis to attempt.
Lewis had explained the idea of polyamory. The same idea Max was trying to explain. The same thing the girl pacing the room was not understanding.
"geliefde, we don't have to think about it."
"Why are we thinking about it exactly?" Pipes Lewis. He'd been quiet since she started pacing. After his explanation of something she'd never heard of.
All of them freeze. What are they supposed to say? She had a vision of the future and saw them with another male? A ridiculous notion.
Lewis looks between them all. The other three look between each other.
Seb looks at her. His face is caring and gentle. "She's been having some revelations about the world recently."
Lewis either is just nodding in understanding because it's the truth or he knows their lying and doesn't want to push further. Either way, at least he dropped it.
Back in Max's room, she'd finally been able to calm down. It still didn't make any sense to her, though. Why was Max so okay with this?
Max, unbeknownst to her, was pondering the idea. He'd learned to just flow with her visions. It wasn't set in stone but sometimes it was okay to just let it happen. This was one of those things that he was genuinely open to try if she saw him doing it.
Somewhere in his brain, he could find thoughts that he locked away. Things he thought were weird and decided never to open the box to that again.
Obviously, she wasn't opposed to the idea either. She saw herself in that vision. Her feelings are much different than Max's, though. He could see the shame in her eyes every time she looked at him.
Finally, he'd gotten her here. He's kneeling down in front of her while she sits on the bed. His hands are placed on either side of her thighs.
"I'm going to tell you how I feel about this and then I want you to be completely honest about your feelings, okay?"
She nods her head. Still avoiding his eyes. The guilt to much for her.
"I'm willing to see where this goes. We don't have to try to change anything. From what you saw, we're both happy. I quite like seeing you smile." His pointer finger quickly moved upwards, and the pad just barely touches the top of her nose. "Now, explain to me what you're feeling because unlike you, I am no superhero."
Superhero. A nickname she earned a year ago when she first showed him. He ranted about how she was like a few comicbook superheros he's seen. She wasn't fond of it at first, but now it feels endearing.
"I don't understand it yet. I'm not saying it's a bad thing. It's just that Hanna and seb had told me that it's two people, not three or more, like Lewis was explaining earlier."
Max nods his head in understanding. His hope is that it helps her keep going. He keeps up comforting little touches along her body.
"I'm not going to try to change anything, but I also don't want you to he upset. I've seen relationships at the paddock end because of someone else getting in the way."
"Well, those relationships were not meant to he three people. Maybe ours is. I've seen you with far too much love to give. I feel it would only be natural to let others in."
~
Charles couldn't help staring at her. Her stupid smile was making him swoon.
She was trying to tell him about something she's working on. Yet his mind was too far away to heat what she's saying.
She grabs his hand. Her attempt at pulling him back to earth. "Charlie? Are you okay?"
"Yes, sorry. I'm a bit out of it today." He laughs. His stupid nervous laugh.
"Want to go for a walk to clear your head?"
"That sounds amazing."
Their in Silverstone this weekend. A place he knows fairly well. This walk made him see things he hadn't before.
"Is Max going to be upset you're walking alone with a different guy?" Charles is very aware that Max is protective of her. Mostly from people she doesn't know, cameras, and the media, but it still doesn't change the fact that he could get punched for this.
He takes note of how she bites her lip. "No, I texted him you were having a rough day and needed a friend."
He hums. The only response that feels appropriate.
He didn't notice how he kept walking, and she had stopped. Her hands rubbed her temples. "Are you alright?" Concern is etched into his face.
Somehow, he'd missed the car speeding towards him. He curses how quiet electric engines are. He thinks it might be the end. The way he attracts tragedy finally catching up with him.
He feels his body being thrown to the side. He thought the hit would be more painful. Maybe the pain just hasn't registered yet. The little patch of grass on the side of the road catches him. The fall felt abnormally slow.
Charles lifts his head to inspect his body. He feels fine. Better than fine, actually.
He drags himself up and glances at where his friend is. Panic immediately rises as he sees her on her knees with blood running down the side of her face.
He thinks the car might have hit her. But she looks perfectly fine aside from that. A car would have cause more frontal damage, and she probably would have hit her head.
Then again, he felt better then perfect right now.
He runs over to her and drops to his knees. His hands reach to gently cradle her face. She's panting and trying to get to her phone, but her hands are so shaky she can't type anything.
"Can I?"
She just nods and hands the device over to him. She was trying to call Max.
~
Max is almost flying out of the paddock. Yelling to Christian that he'd be right back.
He found Charles only a few blocks away. Keeping the head of his girlfriend elevated. Her face seemed paler, and there is a trail of crimson on the sides of her face.
Oh. Oh no.
Max pulls over and gets out of the car. "What happened?"
"A car came out of nowhere, speeding. I thought I got hit, but I don't know now, and she's like this, but I don't think it hit her either." Charkes spills in one breath.
Him and the Monegasque had been friends for a while. Well- as close of friends as rivals can be.
She's still awake and mildly coherent. She'd overexerted most likely.
"Schat, can you tell me what happened, please? I need to know how to help you."
Charles is confused by the question. Obviously, from what he'd explained, she'd most likely been hit by a car.
"Couldn't let gim get hurt." She mumbles. Somehow, Max knows exactly what she said, and Charles is left to decipher the meaning. Is it an English thing?
How could she have stopped the car? She wasn't even close to him!
~
Before Charles has a chance to ask anything, he's helping haul a female body through the 'secret' paddock entrance. The one usually used for emergencies. Max and Charles both figured this could constitute as one.
Charles was still confused why they weren't taking her to the medical center. Or anywhere else that would be able to help her better than they could.
Seb met them outside the Ferrari motor home. The door to his room open and waiting.
"What happened?" He looks at max expectantly for an answer.
"She over exerted herself, I think. Possibly moving Charles and healing him simultaneously."
"I'm sorry, what?" Charles is eyeing the two of them. The two only stare at him.
"Dies he know?" The German asks Max. The Dutch shook his head no and bit his lip. Seemingly giving away some secret.
Charles is confused, frustrated and concerned. He let's out a string of French words that neither can understand.
"I'm going to see if I can't clean her up and see if she'll wake up. Can you take Charles to his room and explain to him what happened?"
"Like- explain explain? Or explain?"
"He's seen it, so there's no use in hiding it now. By the looks of it, she was also willing to out herself for him."
Then Charles is being dragged off once again. Now to the comfort of his room instead.
The Dutchman practically forces Charles to sit down. "I'm going to explain to you, and you have to promise you will never speak a word of it."
~
Charles is still shocked by it all. Even in the evening after he's done all his media chorse, he still doesn't get it.
He knew there were some things about her that were weird and that her childhood was shit, but this is just insane.
He makes his way up to Max's hotel room. His brain still trying to process.
He thinks about turning around when he gets to the door. However, it's like they are reading his mind or something because Max opens the door as soon as he steps in front of it.
"Welcome!" Max moves aside to let him in. Charles takes cautious steps forward. His eyes landing on the bed where his friend lay.
She looks better now. Her face has some color back to it. The blood is gone. He's happy about it, but now he feels awkward.
"It's okay, Max told me that you know now." She sits up but doesn't look him in the eyes.
Max let's them have space yet remains perched on the corner. The guardian he's used to seeing.
Charles sits on the edge of the bed closest to her. She looks panicked.
"It's a lot to process."
She shakes her head. Her eyes find Max for some sort of support. It was easy with him.
"It doesn't mean that I'm going to stop loving you or anything. It's just information to take in and understand because it's new." He rambles. Not even realizing he let the L word slip.
Now her eyes find Charles'. They look for understanding. Charles then knows his mistake. His hand flies over his mouth in embarrassment. Cheeks are now growing red and warm.
"I'm so sorry. That wasn't meant- I-"
Charles stands up and is about to bolt before Max rudely blocks his way out.
He looks back at her as Charles tries to find a way through. "Is the face less foggy now?"
Charles is now confused, frustrated, awkward, and embarrassed. It's a combination that can't get any worse.
~
She's staring at him. Her eyes bore into his soul. The worst part is that Max is laughing about it.
Somehow, they had a feeling this could happen. She had a vision where they were not a couple but a trio. Now, she was trying to see if she could recall a resemblance. Charles adds insecure to his growing list of unpleasant emotions.
"I don't remember." She confesses. Guilt creeps onto her face.
"Well, the question is, do we want to try this?" Max asks with such confidence.
It throws charles' head into a tizzy. The two people he thought were the farthest out of reach are actually the closest? It seems unreal. "Have you two already talked about this?" Charles is hesitant in asking.
"After her vision, yes. There's been some discovery on our end, and it's something we're willing to try."
The girl nods her head in agreement. Her eyes light up now that Max has taken control of the conversation.
"Okay, I'm willing to give this a shot."
"I can't read minds, I need your open and honest feelings. If we're going to do this, then you're going to have to be vulnerable."
Max takes Charles hands in his. Their arms now stretch the length of the small table.
It's the touch that gets him. He'd seen Max do it to her a thousand times and constantly longed for it himself.
"I've actually been crushing on both of you- for awhile now." He admits.
The two look up at him with both surprise and warmth. They were glad to hear this. Relief floods through Charles allowing him to continue speaking.
"I thought I was broken or something because I wanted to be with both of you at the same time. I thought it was impossible, but here we are." Charles looks anywhere but at them.
Then she's next to him. Her lips pressed against his forehead in an endearing way.
It's weird that her powers had somehow managed to help her get two partners.
~
They take things slow. They keep open communication between the three of them. They double-check everything until they learn comforts and boundaries.
They are almost through the season now. They've come to Abu Dhabi.
Charles is an anxious mess. He jas a chance to help move the team up, and he wants it so bad.
It's the night before, and he can't sleep for the life of him. He checks his phone, sending a quick text to their group chat. Mostly filled with funny cat videos from Max.
It doesn't take long to get a response, and he's on his way.
Charles has gotten used to the fact that she will always be able to open the door as soon as he gets there. He barely bothers slowing down as he enters the room and falls face first on the bed.
"Rough night?" Asks Max.
"Like you wouldn't believe."
The girl playfully lays herself across the two. The weight of her body comforting to them both.
Max dosen't let it stay that way, though, as he rolls them all over and peppers both of their faces with chaste kisses.
It doesn't take Charles long to fall asleep with them. His and Max's arms tangled up with the girl in between them.
~
Tags: @styles-sunflower @purplephantomwolf @boiohboii @reblog-princess-blog @jjsprobablywrong @Ipab @jayda12
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#x reader#fanficion#f1 fic#formula one#formula 1#racing#angst#max verstappen#f1 fanfic#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x girlfriend!reader#charles leclerc x y/n#charles leclerc x you#charles lechair#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x max verstappen#lestappen#max verstappen is a protector#super max#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x y/n#max verstappen x you#red bull formula 1#redbull f1#red bull racing#redbull#ferrari formula one#scuderia ferrari
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phoebe bridgers — send me a headcanon or a prompt + a character, and i’ll write you a blurb!
what abouttt rockstar!remus x shy!reader omg. maybe r being backstage at one of his concerts and giving him good luck kisses or something. or just whatever u want, you always have the best ideas anyway <3
a kiss
summary — you ask remus for a kiss before he goes on stage.
content — remus lupin x fem!reader, rockstar!remus, shy!reader
note — mal this was such a cute idea i love u
You sit one one of the many big speakers backstage, legs dangling over the edge, waiting for Remus to finish his conversation with his manager.
Having a boyfriend who is constantly busy, with sound checks and press junkets, song writing and concerts, it’s hard to see him when you want. Sometimes it feels terrible to want things.
Because Remus is always busy. He’s hardworking and never stops and you really admire him for it. You hate to interrupt because most of the time it’s for things you don’t really need.
Remus, can I have a hug? Remus, do you want to watch a movie on the couch tonight?
You sit with your hands in your lap, fiddling with the rings around your fingers. You spin them to distract yourself. There’s an ache in your chest that you feel like can only be soothed by Remus. You bite your tongue to hold back the urge to talk to him when he seems busy. It feels selfish and you don’t want to be.
Remus cuts his conversation short with his manager and makes his way over to you. The feeling in your chest creeps up your throat with bubbling excitement. He’s your boyfriend, he gives you every drop of attention when he can — which is always. But when he gives it to you when you feel like you don’t deserve it, it makes you feel warm.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmurs when he reaches you. It’s quiet and there’s thousands of fans past the wall behind you. You’re still tuned to every sound he makes.
“Hey, Remus,” you say back. You’re more than pleased when he takes your hands into his. You don’t show it though. You look solemn and Remus worries for you. Your glumness morphs into guilt when you remember you should be happy for him. Because you are — you’re ecstatic.
You still feel out of your depth whenever you’re in this situation. Behind a curtain, listening to piercing screams of your boyfriends and his band mates names. A thrumming that beats quieter than your heart most of the time.
“Are you okay?” Remus leans forward until your linked hands press into your bare legs. A heavy weight that feels necessary.
“Yeah,” you say. Then, when his fingers unfurl to press firmly into the dough of your thighs, you say, “Just feeling off today.”
He leans forward to press a kiss on the top of your nose. Then your cheek and behind your ear. Remus is a rockstar. A rockstar with a kissing pattern that he knows will have you melting.
“Yeah?” he hums into the skin below your ear. He tries to kiss away the beginnings of your goosebumps. He only makes them worse. “You should tell me these things, dove.”
You should. And you do — most of the time. When you’re in the bath together, when he makes you sit and eat dinner at your tiny two-seater table, or on his tour bus. You won’t get into how you think he likes to corner you in tiny settings and make sure you’re okay. He worries you won’t tell him if he doesn’t. But he always makes time for it.
“Not right now,” you dismiss him with a shake of your head.
“Yes, right now,” he says. Half fond, half too serious.
“You’re about to go on.” You look over his shoulder to find James sitting by the snacks table, a pair of drumsticks tapping against his jean clad thigh. You suspect Sirius is around somewhere stressing out.
“They’ll wait,” he says a little too smugly. You roll your eyes.
“Remus,” you chide.
“No, I’m serious, honey,” you might die if he keeps it up with the pet names, “what’s up?”
You lean into his chest until the top of your head hides your face. You huff and you feel a small laugh vibrate up his chest.
“If you don’t tell me, I’m gonna play so shit out there because I’m worrying about you,” he says. You know he doesn’t mean it. It still makes you feel awful. You lean more of your weight into him.
“Stop,” you argue.
“I’m serious—“
“No, you’re not.”
He hugs your head closer to stable you. “I’m not.”
Remus let’s you sit up until he can see your face. You worry he might hold you warm face in his hands. When he’s doesn’t, you’re only mildly relieved. You don’t want to be teased about how flustered he can make you. You also want him to squeeze your cheeks.
“Can I have a kiss?”
Remus startles. “Of course.”
You get your way when he cups your face in his hands to lean down to kiss you. His lips soft and a tiny bit unsure when he does it. You grip his wrists with shaky hands and hold him closer. Only gasping into his open mouth when he pulls away.
His lips are a little wet when you open your eyes. You watch his pupils shrink back down and feel a tad amused. You feel your shy temperament dial back a bit. You know he loves you.
You smile. Remus mirrors it, though half as bright. “Is that what you wanted?”
Dazed, you blink, “What?”
He kisses you again, too short for you liking. He smiles more this time when you let out the tiniest hiccup like sound when he pulls away again. “Oh, my poor girl.”
You push him away, not as rough as you feel you should, “No,” you giggle. “No, stop it.”
“C’mere, let me kiss you again,” he laughs. You despise it. Well, you pretend to.
“No. Go play the guitar or whatever it is you do.”
You push him out with your arms, palms flat against his chest. Fingers tangled through his pretty silver chains.
“Whatever it is I do?!”
“Yeah.”
Remus turns when he hears James call his name. “Moony! C’mon!”
Remus pulls his guitar over his shoulder. Baby blue against his grey shirt. “You’re lucky,” he warns.
You push him like you aren’t sad to see him go. It never lasts long. Soon, you’ll be swelling with so much pride you won’t be able to move.
“When I come back, you’re getting it.” Remus finds it hard to pretend to threaten you. It’s worth it when you gasp, hand held to your chest.
“I’m terrified!”
Again, though this time it’s Sirius, “You’ll have all the time in the world to make out with Y/N tonight! Hurry the fuck up.” You watch him disappear behind the wall. The crowd rumbles with excitement.
“You better hurry, Moony,” you tease.
Remus leans forward to smack a kiss to your appled cheeks, turning to run off. He stops before the wall to look back to blow you a kiss. You catch it before he disappears. The crowd’s cheering grows tenfold.
#remus lupin#remus lupin drabble#remus lupin x f!reader#remus lupin x fem!reader#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin fan fic#remus lupin imagine#remus lupin fanfic#remus lupin fanfiction#rockstar remus lupin au#marauders au#marauder x reader#the marauders#the marauders fanfic
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𐙚⊹₊⋆☆ nice guy | sim jake
𐙚 idol!jake x student!reader (she/her)
𐙚 angst no fluff, the little fight that snowballs into heartbreak
𐙚 1.6k, mentions of cheating, not proofread oops!
𐙚 note // this is my first time ever writing for a group other than nct so i hope you guys like it ^~^ i’m on a break from school, and kpop bedrot has been my best friend thus this was born!! there will most likely be a part two that’s not depressing teehee
at the second hour of this seemingly never-ending fight, jake has yet to show any sign of giving up. it’s baffling to you, who — just as much as he does — thinks you’re the one in the right. you’re sure of it, which is why you aren’t backing down so easily.
“so you’re saying it’s your job to buy a drink for every person that looks miserable at the bar?”
“i’m not saying it’s my job,” he defends, “i’m just saying i saw her sitting alone looking particularly glum and that i had the capability to do something nice for someone, so i did.”
“so you’re playing the nice guy now, huh? you can’t possibly be at fault because it was simply an act of kindness.”
“(name), don’t put it like that. i’m not trying to play at anything. i’m just telling you what i did and why i did it.”
“and i’m telling you that it was wrong, that it hurt, that it might’ve been a nice act to her, but buying another girl a drink is not nice to your girlfriend.”
jake rises from his spot on the couch. he walks a few steps until his back is facing you. his hands are set square on his hips and his head is hung low in disappointment, or defeat, or just dejection, you can’t tell.
he stays that way for a few moments; the heated tension that once shrouded the room is now replaced with an eerie silence. jake breaks it with the most bewildering conclusion possible. “i get it now. you’re jealous.”
at this, you’re caught off guard, though it only takes a few breaths for your surprise to morph into anger. you stand up as well, and jake turns around just as your anger reaches its climax.
“jealous? you think i’m jealous of a random ass girl who seemed to be down in the dumps?”
the furrow in his brow deepens at the thickness in your voice. jake’s countenance is back to a defensive state, but his tone almost assumes confusion when he queries, “if you’re not jealous of her then what’s the issue here? what reason could you possibly have–“
“it’s you, jake.” you take measured steps towards him, tears springing in your eyes from the sheer emotion leaking through your being. your body is almost shaking, pupils quivering, and fists clenching when you push forward, “you’re the issue. you think you’re such a nice guy for buying some girl a drink, when really you don’t seem to understand the insinuations of your actions.”
“what do you mean i don’t underst–“
“were you flirting with her?”
“no.”
“did you express your interest in her?”
“of course not.”
“then why would she come up to me right before we were leaving to tell me that the guy i was with was hitting on her?”
jake throws his hands up as a show of innocence and frustration, “how am i supposed to know why she lied to you?”
“did you tell her that you had a girlfriend?”
“there was no reason to.”
“are you really that dense?”
“what?”
“single guys buy drinks for girls that they’re interested in at bars. come on jake, you weren’t born yesterday. the more you try to make it seem like you were just ‘doing it to be nice,’ the more it feels like you had other intentions that you’re scared to tell me. just admit that you did something wrong, apologize for it, and never do it again.”
now it’s his turn to be caught off guard. you think he gets it, and he’ll do as you say and you guys will both hug and make up and hurry on to bed. however, it doesn’t seem that way. he’s stuck on a single part, arguably the least important part, of your whole entire spiel.
“you really think i had other intentions?”
jake’s challenging you. you know that look well, the one where he feels so severely wronged that his vision blurs and all he can think about is defending himself.
“jake…” you don’t give in to the challenge because you know it’d only fuel him.
“you think i was cheating on you? in front of you? why’s it so hard for you to believe i was just doing it from the kindness of my heart?”
“no, jake…” you try again, but it’s futile. you know from the look on his face that he’s about to say things he doesn’t mean. you know it’s going to hurt.
“fine. if you really don’t believe that my act of kindness was really just an act of kindness then i should be more mean, shouldn’t i? next time you have a group project with a guy in it, i’m not talking to you until the project’s over. you can’t have guy friends, or else i might misunderstand your intentions towards them. if you ever go up to a guy and talk to him for any reason, we’re over. and i’ll apply the same rules to myself. are you satisfied now?”
it doesn’t just hurt. it breaks you. tears are streaming down your cheeks and your heart rate speeds uncontrollably. you’re standing opposite of him, barely able to breathe, and yet he looks close to normal, save for the sternness set in his brows. it utterly shatters you to know that jake would rather break your heart knowingly than apologize for something that now seems so minor.
through hitched breaths, you force out weakly, “so by your rules, we’re over.”
at first, he doesn’t get it. the placidity with which he had regulated his face falls briefly into panic. cautiously, jake lets, “what do you mean we’re over?”
congestion has clogged your sinuses, so you hold your breath as you clarify, “you’re applying the same rules to yourself, aren’t you? earlier tonight, did you not go up to a girl and talk to her? for whatever reason?” any composure jake held on to cracks. his eyes go wide and he takes a hesitant yet desperate step towards you as you hammer in the final nail to his coffin. “you’re saying we’re over, right?”
you have jake backed into a corner. he’d fallen for his own trap, one that he’d built trying to corner you. he’d say he’s ready for it, your attack. he’d even go as far as to admit he deserves it, apologize for it, beg for it. he can’t take back what he did and he can’t take back what he said, even if he never meant to even remotely cause doubt of his loyalty to you, and even if he had sworn early on in your relationship that he would never hurt you on purpose. but even when he’s backed into a corner, defenseless and entirely at fault, you never land your final blow. instead, you retreat.
“i’m going to stay at yeji’s tonight. please don’t contact me until i reach out first.”
you turn away from him and head towards your shared bedroom. jake’s eyes have unfocused and he’s rooted rigidly in his spot. his mind tricks him into thinking that if he doesn’t move, or speak, or hear, or see anything, then this must not be his reality. for minutes it seems, jake dissociates just like this. but the sound of you packing your bag sets his nerves alight, and he’s jolted into action like the galvanization of a dead man emerging from the ground. he awakens to this reality, and the realization that he has to change it.
jake barely crosses the threshold of the door before he’s stopped at the sight of your zipping closed your suitcase. just how long were you planning on leaving for? you look up at him to catch the disbelief and hurt in his eyes. your face has been washed and you refuse to let up anymore signs of vulnerability on your end, so you look back down.
“please don’t go.”
“don’t push it.”
“i thought we agreed to never go to bed mad at each other.”
with your suitcase zipped close, you still your emotions before looking up at him. “i’m not mad at you, jaeyun.”
at the sound of his full name, jake almost dissociates again. his heart has gone completely still. “then why are you leaving?”
you make your way across the room, and he moves to block the entrance of it. you sigh. “i just want some space to rethink our relationship and what happened tonight.”
jake hangs his head low, “i’m sorry. i’m at fault.” but his head snaps back up when he hears you laugh in response, “it’s a little too late for that, don’t you think?”
he doesn’t put up a fight, for he’s done more than enough of that already. instead, he moves out of the way.
you leave.
jake wonders who’d get the apartment if you guys broke up. he wonders what he’d tell his parents who love you so, how he’d break it to layla that her favorite person in the world will never see her again. jake wonders if he could ever get used to the silence in the room that now sits heavy on his shoulders. mostly he wonders if he would ever forgive himself for being stubborn at the worst moment, and being selfish when it mattered the most.
it’s only now that jake thinks he would prefer you yelling at him any day for any reason, over the silence of your shared apartment for the rest of his life.
copyright © 2024 loservernon all rights reserved.
#enhypen jake#enhypen#jake#jake fluff#jake fics#enhypen fics#enhypen fluff#jake scenarios#enhypen scenarios#enhypen angst#jake angst
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Unhinged Couple
Cannibal Wanda Maximoff x Serial Killer GN! Reader x Natasha Romanoff
Warnings: Smut. Amab! Reader. Violence. Death.
Taglist: @ginnsbaker @gb12d @lifespectator @imaginationeuphoria @louxbloom @mfd-101 @abbyromanoff @natashamaximoff-69 @wizardofstories @canvascoloredin @marvelogic @wandanats-goodgirl @the-ox-fan20
Congratulations @abbyromanoff on your engagement!!!! Hope you both have all the happiness in the world!!!
18+ MINORS DNI
Y/N was sent out to the local club to find their mext victim by any means necessary. So as they sat in the prime booth that overlooked the whole club and bar, they had come across a lonely red headed woman at the bar. She had now ordered her fourth drink without even moving so it seemed as though she was alone, which was perfect in their eyes.
So they decided to approach her, leaning on the bar beside her as they ordered another drink before they turned to face her.
"It seems as though you have come to the wrong place." Y/N stated as they leaned into whisper in her ear.
"Is that so?" The red head challenged.
"Yup." They smirked as they supped on their beer. "This is place is full of people who are having fun or looking for their next fuck, and you are sat here looking as glum as the night."
"So you're a stalker?" She raised a brow as Y/N laughed.
"No, I am a very observant person." They told her as they reached for her hand. "I'm Ry." They held out their hand for her to shake.
"Nat." She shook their hand with a shy smile.
"Nat, that has to be short for Natalia right?" They pondered as Nat giggled.
"Natasha really." She corrected them.
"My apologies." They smiled as they gazed at her, causing her to blush lightly under their intense stare. "Do you want to dance and have fun or would you like stay here and wallow?" They asked her with a raised brow. Nat finished her drink before she stood up.
"Let's dance." She told them with a smile, taking their hand and leading them to the dancefloor. They both danced together, jumping up and down to the beat until Y/N decided to wrap their arm around her, pulling her closer to them as they danced. A smirk dancing on their face as she pushed her ass into them as their hand travelled lower, resting over the dress on her pubic bone.
As Nat continued to grind on their crotch, their cock hardening as her arousal pooled in her underwear. The feeling was sending Y/N almost feral as their hand reached lower, cupping her core and making her moan.
"Turn around." They whispered in her ear, which she complied as Y/N's hand snaked up the front of her dress, rubbing her clit through her underwear as she moaned into their neck. To everyone around, it seemed as though they were just dancing while Y/N thrusted their fingers in and out of her dripping cunt. "Should we get out of here?" They asked her as she nodded. Whimpering as they pulled their hand away from her and dragging her through the club towards the exit.
Y/N led her to their car, opening the passenger side door open for her before they got into the driver's seat. Their hand grazing her exposed thighs as they drove through the dark country roads to the house they shared with Wanda.
Once the two were inside, Y/N pushed her up against the wall as they ripped her under off, continuing their actions from earlier but with three fingers instead of one. The moans that escaped had signalled to Wanda that Y/N was successful in bringing home a new victim.
So she had picked up the syringe she had prepared. Walking through the dark halls quietly as she approached them, anger filling her form as she saw her Y/N so close to another woman in a sinful way. So she had decided to inject the sedative into Nat's neck as she was completely unaware. Before she could reach her climax, she collapsed against Y/N who smirked as they turned to Wanda.
"I never told you to fuck her." Wanda spoke sternly as she opened the door to the basement. Watching as Y/N picked up the unconciouss Nat and took her down the stairs, placing her on the metal table and stripping her dress and leaving her bare.
"It's almost regretful to take someone so beautiful." Y/N told Wanda as they strapped her down, not expecting Wanda to be right behind them as they turned. Gripping their hardened cock through their jeans.
"Did you enjoy fucking her tonight?" Wanda asked as she bit their ear, making them whimper at her touch. "Did you taste her?"
"No." They whispered as Wanda used her other hand to undo their belt. "I only ever used my fingers."
"Did you want to fuck her with what's mine." Wanda asked as she pushed their trousers down. "Did you want to fill her up with your cum."
"No." Y/N shook their head as Wanda started to remove her own clothes after Y/N stood there. All bare and waiting for her. "I only want to feel you wrapped around me. Just you."
"Good." Wanda removed her panties last. "Because you belong to me or you will be on that table next." She told them as she pushed them onto the sofa. "So now shut up and let me ride you."
Wanda lowered herself down onto Y/N's cock. The two moaning as Wanda moved her hips. She gripped their jaw, forcing them to look at her.
"Did you kiss her?" She questioned as she ghosted their lips.
"No." They answered her confidently. "I only ever want to kiss you."
"Good answer." She husked out before she kissed them hard, forcing her tongue into their mouth. Moaning as she tasted the beer they had been drinking.
As the hours went on, Y/N was on their knees as their head was between her thighs. Wanda's hand in their hair as they fucked her with their tongue.
Nat soom started to come around as the sound of Wanda's moans filled her ears. Her eyes looking around and trying to figure out where she was, that was when she had noticed Y/N on their knees and the smell of Wanda's arousal filled her nose.
"You're awake." She spoke followed by a loud moan as she came as Y/N lapped up every drop.
"Where am I?" Nat asked as her body ran cold, Wanda pushed Y/N away as she stood. Her naked form on show for Nat who struggled against the restraints.
"That doesn't matter sweetheart." Wanda spoke as her finger grazed the skin on her stomach. "But you won't be leaving here." Wanda gestured for Y/N to grab their favourite blade, a smirk on both of their faces as Y/N approached.
"Please." Nat pleaded as her eyes were on the knife. "Just let me go." Wanda chuckled darkly as she gripped Nat's jaw.
"I'm afraid we can't do that sweetheart." She taunted as she gazed into Nat's fearful eyes. "But you won't feel a thing soon enough." She then looked to Y/N who ran the blade from Nat's ankle and up to her inner thigh.
"It's a pity you never got to cum darling." Y/N taunted as the blade connected with her cunt.
"Please stop!!" She cried as she tried to break free from the restraints, screaming pleas of help at the top of her lungs as both Wanda and Y/N shared a look.
"That's no use sweetheart." Wanda leaned in closer, their noses brushing as she wore a sickening grin. "There is no one for miles to hear you." She slowly leaned back as Y/N started to saw through her thigh as Wanda smiled at the pain on the woman's face. Once Y/N was finished, Nat soon started to breathe rapidly as Wanda smiled at them. "There's just something about playing with your food that always fascinates me." She told them giddily as Y/N chuckled at her before continuing with the other leg.
"You know Nat, I used to do this differently before I met the love of my life." They started as Nat soon looked defeated, her skin pale as sweat formed on her forehead. "I used to just lure my old victims out like I did with you. You know, have a little fun before I would take my knife and plunge it into their stomach. Again and again as I watched the life fade from their eyes." They approached her arms as Wanda stood beside them, her hand on their arm as she started to press kisses to their skin. "But with Wanda, I do this for her too. I usually just preferred the excitement of the kill. The adrenaline that runs through your veins is just like my own personal heroin." The started on her arm, looking like this was as normal as breathing. "But now I also get the privelege of looking after my Wanda. Making sure she is well looked after."
"Well, I haven't really had to get my hands dirty in over a year now." Wanda chimed in as she started to remove the meat from the bones of the already severed limbs, wrapping them up before placing them in the freezer. "My Y/N gets the thrill and I get my food. I did used to eat like you but I was on a trip. Many years ago, in the middle of Old Russia. We ran out of food and well, the nearest town wasn't for miles and miles." Wanda looked to see Nat was almost gone. "So I done what I had to do to survive, I killed my boyfriend and I ate him. There's just something different about human meat. It's tougher like mutton but tastes just as good as pork, if not better."
"I think we're losing her love." Y/N stated as they stood by Nat's head.
"Well, just put her out of her misery." Wanda told them as they grabbed their knife, grazing her cheek with the blade.
"This will be quick darling, faster than falling asleep." They smirked as they plunged the knife into her heart, watching as the life left her eyes, a sick smile on their face.
"I think I will have plenty for a week. Maybe two." Wanda told them as started on her torso as Y/N wrapped their arms around her naked form.
"Well, whenever you need more my love, I will glady go out for more." They kissed her neck as she chuckled, licking the blood from her fingers as she finished her work. The two then taking the remaining bones to the furnace, throwing them inside before they kissed each other hungrily.
"Let's shower baby." Wanda whispered as she pushed her front flush against Y/N who only groaned as they let her lead the way for an eventful shower.
#gingie's halloween special#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff#marvel#elizabeth olsen#elizabeth olsen x reader#wanda x you#wanda x y/n#wanda x reader#wanda maximoff x you#natasha romanoff
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✮⋆˙ christmas cook
WELCOME TO MY 12 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS SERIES
emily x reader
1131 words
emily tries to cook for you but doesn’t do a very good job ….
The smell of burnt food attacked you as you entered your decorated home. You laughed as you heard Emily Prentiss swear in the kitchen. You laughed harder as the fire alarm began blaring. You left your girlfriend to it. You slipped off your heeled boots, which were mandatory to wear to work, and replaced them with the fluffy slippers Emily bought you last christmas. You had a collection of slippers but these ones had snowmen on them with hats which bobbled as you walked. You found it endearing and felt obliged to bring them back out for the festive season. They were also a lot warmer so helped keep you cosy in the creeping cold weather. You untied the scarf from your neck and hung it over your peg and then covered it with your floor-length trench coat. You heard your girlfriend swear again as the alarm finished.
Smiling from ear to ear, you noticed Sergio, who seemed to be the only one who heard you come home. He tangled himself around your legs, asking to be hugged. You bundled the black- furred baby into your arms before heading into the kitchen. Emily stood facing away from you, hands on the bottom of her back and she seemed exhausted. She had an old rag over her shoulder, which you assumed she used to hit the smoke alarm with. A pungent yet sweet smell lingered in the air and your vision was slightly clouded by the remaining smoke. You saw the black chicken sat on the side, still in its tray. Beside it sat some potatoes, also blackened with burn. You laughed loudly and headed further into your kitchen.
“Babe!” Emily exclaimed, jumping back.
“Hi baby,” You smiled. Sergio dropped from your arms and you embraced Emily.
“You scared me!” She whined slightly and you kissed her pout away. “When did you get in?”
“Just as you set the smoke alarm off. I’m assuminng not for the first time either,” you said, motioning to the food on the side. Emily pouted again and brushed her raven hair from her pink face. She fell into a rant about timings and forgetting and the temperatures and you watched her. You enjoyed watching how her facial expressions matched her tone of voice but also sometimes didn’t. You loved watching how her brown eyes expressed her emotions the most. Her eyebrows furrowed and opened up and looked over the food and over you and you just smiled wider. God you loved your girlfriend.
You leaned over and kissed her, wrapping your arms around her waist to pull her closer.
“You talk to much Prentiss,” You whispered, teasing her. She blushed a little, something she’d never admit to, and kissed you back.
“I do, huh?” she murmured.
“Hm but I love your voice.”
“Well I love you,” she said simply. Your stomach folded. You’d been exchanging them words with Emily for almost two years but you’d never, ever get used to them. Hearing her say it, watching the slight smirk on her lips, tasting her lips too. It was all so much. So loving. You didn’t need to reply, you put your head down, blushing and she planted a gentle kiss on your forehead and held you tighter.
It was a few minutes before you pulled out of her arms.
“The kitchen stinks!” You laughed and grabbed the burnt chicken ready to throw it in the bin.
“I’m sorry-” Emily chuckled but you could hear the undertones of guilt behind the smile. She often did that; laughed off her negative emotions with gallows humour.
“Don’t be,” you said. You threw the food out and turned to your girlfriend who was no longer hiding her expression. A glum look sat on her face and you sighed, taking her hands.
“I failed you again,” Emily muttered under her breath and your heart dropped.
“No love, you didn’t fail me at all. You’ve never done that.”
“I’m never home and when I am home, my plans to treat you never work and you always end up disappointed. I told you we were going to have a nice dinner since I’m guaranteed this time off before Christmas! I promised a nice dinner for us to celebrate the holidays and now look at me.”
“Em,” you sighed and stepped closer to her. “A nice dinner doesn’t necessarily mean a home-cooked one. I don’t care if your plans work or not, it’s the thought that matters to me. It’s the effort. Everytime I come home, I can see how much you tried. Christmas or not you are the love of my life and all I care about is spending time with you.”
“But you deserve better.”
“You give me the world Emily Prentiss, I couldn’t give a shit if you could cook or not. Only one of us can be good at these things,” you smiled and the side of her mouth quirked up a little. “I promise you Em. Everytime I come home I feel so lucky to have you in my life. Everytime you come home from a case with a bouquet of flowers for me and a box of donuts for you I fall in love with you all over again.”
“Even though I can’t cook?”
“Especially because you can’t cook. Everytime you burn my kitchen, I’m reminded of how big your heart is and how determined you are to be such an amazing person,” you leaned in closer to her, “even though you’re already the best.” you finished your speech with a soft kiss as Emily wrapped her arms tighter around you.
“I love you,” she whispered softly and butterflies started again.
“I love you Emily, so much.”
“Pizza? Or Indian?” Emily asked. She came to sit beside you on the sofa. You had your feet curled under you with a blanket wrapped all around you - keeping you as warm as can be.
“Pizza,” you replied. You lifted up the blanket and she slid in beside you, remote in one hand and phone in the other. You made sure she was warm too and put your head on her shoulder. She tapped away at her phone, ordering your favourite and her favourite.
“Christmas movie too?” She asked, knowing you too well. She immediately went to your favourite and you smiled widely.
“Yes, that one.” She laughed and pressed the restart button since you’d only finished it yesterday when she was at work. You cuddled in close as the familiar opening tune started and she put down her phone and the TV remote. She held you closer to her, wrapping both her arms around your waist. You snuggled in, for warmth and she kissed the top of your head.
“You make me so happy,” she whispered.
“You make me the happiest.”
#criminal minds#criminal minds evolution#emily prentiss#emily prentiss head canons#emily prentiss x reader#emily#emily x reader#emily prentiss x y/n#emily prentiss imagine#crimimas#12 days of christmas
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Springtime Fushiguros♪
Context-: exploring the memories of childhood of fushiguros, marking the spring time of you and satoru gojo.
Moving in :- After you agree to raise the fushiguro kids along with gojo satoru, it's time to move in together.
You wipe the crumbs of the chocolate chip cookie Tsumiki munched from her lips.
'can I have one more?' she pleaded with doe eyes. 'yes ofcourse sweetie. Here, have as many as you want.' Handling the pack of cookies to little Tsumiki, who was happy to munch on some more.
Megumi kept watching the scenary outside from the car window. Tsumiki offered him some cookies before but he refused and simply shook his head.
Gojo was driving the car, very soon you guys will reach to your shared apartment. After gojo asked you for a favour and you agreed, it took about a week to find an apartment which was empty and close to the Tokyo Jujutsu High.
Till then the kids were at your place. You got to know a little about them and observe them closely. You four could have lived at your place but your apartment was on the very outskirts of Tokyo and the kids need to go to school, which was far away from yours. So you guys decided to find another one.
It wasn't perfect but can accommodate the four of you easily. It's cozy and comfy and once you guys move in you can make it even more lively.
'Megumi, you want something else? I've got some cakes too. And even candies and juice.' Megumi shook his head in a 'no' without even bothering to turn around. Something you understood very well on the first week of living with the fushiguro kids is that, Megumi is the opposite of Tsumiki. She opened up to you on the very first day, but he didn't. It was very clear that he disliked your presence.
Megumi is a reserved boy and as far as you've noticed nothing excites him. It's not his fault though, the kid must have gone through so much in such a tender age.
'Give me some of those candies.' satoru drawled while driving the car, peeking at you from the back mirror. You sighed giving him a handful of candies.
Megumi refused to sit with him in the front seat, so satoru had no other option stuffing the rest of the boxes in there. Sure the kid doesn't likes him too.
'then you want something else? We can stop by some shops to get whatever you like?' you propose, trying to get his attention but his sole response was 'no'. You give up at this point.
The car haulted as you looked outside of the window. You guys reached your new apartment. Your lips curled in a small smile. Taking in Tsumiki's hand you get out of the car. Gojo gets Megumi out.
'From now onwards we will be living here! gojo announced excitingly, 'Like it kids?'
'Yes!' Tsumiki chirped in her cheerful voice, while the glum faced Megumi remained silent, surely annoyed at gojo. He frees his hand from gojo's and comes near to stand beside Tsumiki.
You chuckle at gojo's offended face. 'Kk, gojo sensei will be bringing the stuff up while we go and take a look at our new home.' you announce, when gojo interrupts, 'what? You guys won't be helping me?'
'well, no.'
'why? How am I supposed to take all of these stuff up alone? I don't have four hands like—'
You take both the kids and walk ahead leaving a complaing gojo behind. Megumi, all silent till now, looked back at gojo. A smug smile plastered on his face, took gojo by surprise and amusement.
You felt Megumi's grip on your fingers tighten, as you guided both the fushiguro kids inside of the elevator to the fifth floor of the apartment.
Gojo watched you guys disappear, as a chuckle surpasses his lips, a fuzzy feeling rushed through him. This is the first time he saw Megumi smile.
'Seems I made the right decision.' he thought to himself, walking up to the trunk of his car, unloading the luggage.
Extras-:
'are the kids fast asleep?' gojo asks unpacking another suitcase, while you enter the room.
'yeah, the day must have been rough for you.' He stopped whatever he was doing, darting a look unfamiliar to you.
'Shall I make the night rough for you, love?'
#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#jjk#jjk gojo#jjk x you#jjk megumi#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x satoru gojo#jujutsu kaisen x megumi fushiguro#jujutsu sorcerer#satorugojo#megumi fushiguro#megumi x reader#satoru x suguru#satoru x reader#springtime fushiguros
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The Goth and The Jock
Dio X Male Reader
Dio was an outcast in college, always talking about how everything was bad. He was also a satanist who would always talk about it, usually when talking to his friends. Overall, a pretty weird guy for college.
Y/n on the other hand was the usual movie jock who everyone knew. He had friends all over campus, from his fellow jocks to the nerds of college. Everyone seemed to love him, most even tried to date him.
But he had his eyes on one man, the older goth man, Dio. He didn’t know why he was attracted to the man, was it his body, face, bravado? He couldn't say, maybe he was in love with just Dio as a man.
Whatever it was, Y/n couldn’t stop thinking of Dio. In all of his classes he would daydream about the man, at practice he would hope Dio would go to his games. He felt like a hopeless romantic, but he was fine with it.
Dio knew Y/n from people around the campus, they would always talk about him and his game winning stunts. Yet he never saw the man in person, maybe because he usually skipped classes to get high or smoke cigarettes with his friends.
Y/n intrigued Dio, enough so that he actually went to his classes for a while. He would try to see if he could find the jock but no luck, not in any of his classes, never saw him in the halls, and he was not going to ask when Y/n had practice.
His ego was too high for that, so he decided to find out by himself. So every morning he would get up early and head to the gym, looking for Y/n but got nothing. Then after school he would go back to the gym, yet still he couldn’t find him.
Yet his luck would lead him to finding Y/n, but in the worst way possible.
•••
It was lunch, Y/n decided to eat the campus’s lunch so he went to the cafeteria. As he was getting food, Dio came in, getting cravings after smoking some weed with his friends.
“Fuck, that sounds good.” He muttered to himself before walking to get in line, yet as he walked to the line Y/n was daydreaming and ran into him.
Food hit his black leather jacket, staining his white undershirt. Y/n gasped and the lunch room went silent. “Shit, sorry.” He mumbled and tried to clean off Dio’s jacket, he sighed and took off his jacket.
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” He said nonchalantly, yet Y/n was freaking out internally but tried to seem chill. “Say, aren’t you Y/n? The jock everyone talks about?” Dio asked and he nodded, everyone still staring at the two hoping for a fight.
“Yeah, are you Dio?” Y/n asked and the other man nodded.
“Man, the rumors don’t do you justice, you’re a lot hotter than they say. Here’s my number.” He said and wrote it down on Y/n’s wrist, the jock was too starstruck to even say anything so he just nodded. “Call me.” He whispered before getting into line.
After that encounter everyone began to assume the two were dating, to which Y/n was embarrassed while Dio could care less. Soon the two began to meet up, usually in the library or in one of their dorms.
Dio’s dorm reeked of weed and cigarette smoke, yet he would open his window to try and fan out the smell so Y/n’s nose wouldn’t hurt. He was grateful for it, but overall Dio’s dorm was just like he expected. His room was filled with books, most about religions, others were random things he couldn’t describe besides random.
Y/n’s room was almost the exact opposite, it always smelt of his favorite scent. His whole dorm radiated glee, which Dio enjoyed as his dorm seemed glum. Y/n’s room was filled with his accomplishments, from trophies to little medals of participation.
“Cute, it’s like you crave validation.” Dio noted and Y/n nodded, sitting down on his bed.
“Yeah, you know parents, they never give you any validation or comfort so, you look for it in other ways.” He remarked and the goth nodded, sitting down next to the jock.
“I can see that, I bet you can also see why I am the way I am.” Dio said and Y/n shook his head. “Well, my parents were what you consider the American dream. Perfect jobs, perfect home, a perfect family. But guess who came in and fucked it up.” He said and pointed to himself, Y/n laughed and nodded.
“It’s very obvious, but you have the most character.” He remarked and Dio smiled, falling back on the bed. Seeing the poster of Y/n’s favorite band on the ceiling.
“Yep, the unusual kid is usually born in the perfect family. Yet, it was my father who showed me this stuff. That is one thing I will commend them for.” He said and Y/n nodded, laying down next to Dio.
Dio looked over to Y/n, the sunset light hitting his face making him look like a dream. He never thought he would love a jock, yet here he is, falling for one. Y/n looked over to see Dio’s brown eyes staring at him, he smiled and turned to him.
“You look like you’ve seen an angel.” Y/n said and Dio nodded.
“Because I’m looking at one.” He said before holding Y/n’s face in his hands, Dio looked at him and got a nod. He leaned in and kissed the jock, he smiled and they kept kissing.
After that day they would usually be seen together, around the campus, Dio waiting for Y/n to finish practice, Y/n picking up Dio after a smoke session. They truly loved each other, and people could tell.
•••
“Y/n, do you think I’m cool?” Dio asked as he held Y/n close to his chest.
“Yeah, you’re the coolest guy I’ve met and I’ve met a lot of cool people.” Y/n responded, looking up to his boyfriend. Dio looked down and nodded, a smile on his face before he kissed the jock.
“Good, I better be.” He said and held the jock closer to him, he laughed and they basked in each other’s presence.
The two felt like the perfect pair, Dio’s dark and sarcastic humor contrasting Y/n’s bright and sweet tone. But as their relationship grew, the closer they began to thirst for each other.
Y/n would always want to see Dio naked, on his bed all spread out. Dio thinking the same, Y/n covered with hickeys, breathing fast, face red. So they decided to plan for it, both agreeing on a date.
•••
“Alright, so you want to do it after finals or before?” Y/n asked, looking through a calendar. Dio paced around Y/n’s room, trying to think about it.
“I think we should do it after, you know sex is a good way to relieve stress.” He remarked and his boyfriend nodded, getting a marker and circled the date.
“It’s official, now let’s get some sleep. We have finals to study for.” Y/n said and Dio groaned before falling into his arms, he sighed in content as he pushed his face against Y/n’s pecs.
“You know, you make the perfect pillow.” Dio said and Y/n laughed before pulling a blanket over them both.
“I know, you are always sleeping on me.” He said and the goth nodded, soon the two fell asleep in each other's hold.
Soon finals began and the two, by two mostly Y/n, were giving it their all. Studying hard and hoping to pass, and as the week passed Y/n forgot what was in store for him after the week was over.
But Dio always remembered, before he would leave his house he could cross off a day. Each day for the week he crossed off the day, till it was the day and he was excited.
•••
“Jesus, I thought I was going to have a meltdown.” Y/n complained as he and Dio walked to his dorm.
“I wouldn’t know, I got someone to take mine for me.” Dio said and his boyfriend scoffed, and opened the door for him. When he walked in Dio smiled seeing Y/n’s room was cleaner than usual.
“Yeah, I know. Wow, I cleaned my room!” Y/n said trying to mimic Dio’s voice and he laughed.
“Nice impression, do you remember what today is?” He asked, pushing Y/n against the couch. His face was red as Dio straddled on him.
“Is it our anniversary?” He questioned and the goth sighed before kissing the jock. It soon turned from love filled to lust filled, Dio began to take off Y/n’s clothes and he did the same.
Soon they were both naked, Y/n and Dio’s cocks rubbing against each other causing the two to moan and groan. Dio decided to take the lead and kissed all over Y/n’s neck, sucking and biting to leave marks all over his neck and collarbone.
“Shit Dio, I didn’t think you were the possessive type.” Y/n chuckled but groaned when Dio took his cock in his hands.
“Have to show that you belong with me.” He whispered into the jock's ear, and he began to jerk off Y/n. Going slowly at first to hear his boyfriend’s moans of his name.
“Dio, please.” He whimpered and Dio smiled, deciding to give into the whimpers and go faster. Y/n kept moaning and whimpering till he felt the knot in his stomach start to break.
But Dio stopped, letting go of his cock. Before he could complain he felt two wet fingers enter him, he gasped and his head fell on Dio’s shoulder. “D-Dio.” He whispered but was shushed by the goth.
“It’s going to be okay baby, just relax for me.” Dio said and Y/n nodded, soon getting relaxed as his fingers stretched him out. Soon he was propped against the back of the couch, Dio behind him ready to insert himself. “Are you ready?” Dio asked Y/n.
“Yes, please!” He whined and took a sharp inhale when Dio inserted his cock into him. He waited till Y/n moved his hips to start slowly thrusting, kissing all over his back and leaving even more marks.
He soon began to thrust faster and harder, hitting a bundle of nerves in Y/n that made him moan loudly. So Dio kept hitting that spot, making sure his boyfriend was satisfied. Soon, without warning, Y/n came all over his and Dio’s bodies.
“S-Shit, sorry.” Y/n whimpered but Dio kissed him softly, silencing him as he kept going.
“It’s fine baby.” He whispered and kept going, loving to see tears leave Y/n’s eyes from overstimulation. Soon, thankfully, he started to feel his release and kept thrusting into him. “I’m so close, can you hold on a little longer?” Dio asked and Y/n nodded rapidly.
Before he could cum inside of Y/n he pulled out, and came on their bodies as the jock under him had done before. He sighed and fell onto his boyfriend, who was trying to regain his breath.
“Dio?” He questioned and the both looked up, seeing Y/n’s bright smile which made him warm. “You want to shower?” He asked and Dio nodded, so Y/n, with some new found strength, lifted him and took him to the bathroom.
“Jesus.” Dio muttered and pulled himself against Y/n, before hearing the bathtub getting filled up. Y/n played with his boyfriend’s hair, and he enjoyed it as he played with it.
•••
The next morning, Y/n was slightly limping at practice. People kept asking about the hickeys on his neck, he was embarrassed. But Dio was proud of it, as he watched his boyfriend getting questioned left and right.
#gay#x male reader#male reader smut#pedro pascal x male reader#male reader#bottom male reader#Dio#dio morrissey#dio morrissey x male reader#smut
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