#˗ˏˋ 🍒 ꒰ CRACK. ꒱

[darlingofvalyria]

the sister's hot best friend trope— masterlist.

In which you're Helaena's hot best friend, and you take pity on Hel's younger, quieter, in an-unhealthy-unbalanced-on-and-off relationship brother by fake dating him. Hilarity (and confuse feelings) ensues.

ONGOING, +18 MDNI | Modern AU! Aemond Targaryen x Sister's Hot Best Friend!Reader, ft. Cregan Stark x f!reader + Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : P A R T S ::;˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

｡˚ ❀↳˗ˏˋ PARTS MARKED 'M' CONTAIN MATURE CONTENT ˊˎ˗ ↴🌸

01 | 'it's called a hustle, sweetheart'

M! | 02 | 'baby, all you gotta do is trust me'

03 | 'pucker up, buttercup'

M! | 04 | 'oh honey, you can do better than that'

05 | 'we're really in it now, darling'

06 | 'it's called a lovebug, lovebug'

07 | 'my love, you can call me whatever you like'

Message to be added to the taglist!

[succubeats]

      ❝Pound it, bitch.❞

[boppinbabe]

Tag dump!

[arminsumi]

requesting the first years witnessing gojo flirt with reader

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

𝐅𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

A/N: i love this idea sm i hope u like how i wrote it 👀💗

Wc ≈ 800

Pairing: GOJO Satoru x reader

Summary: Yuji, Nobara and Megumi 'accidentally' overheard you and Gojo flirting in the classroom 👀

Warnings; kinda cheesy/goofy/overdramatic, poor megumi lmfao

Passing down the hall, Yuji heard a murmuring of yours and Gojo’s voices coming from inside a vacant classroom, so he strained his ears to listen.

“I swear, your sweet tooth is insatiable… Gojo, you really should quit sugar.”

“Aw, but how could I possibly give you up?”

Yuji’s face contorted into amusement and disbelief after hearing that little exchange.

“Yuji, what the hell are you doing – ”

He hissed for Nobara to be quiet and come eavesdrop with him. So she did, albeit a bit confused at first, but in a few minutes she and him were stifling their snickering and pressing their cheeks flat to the thin sliding door.

“What did Y/n just say?? MEGUMI! Get over here.” Nobara whisper-shouted and beckoned the ravenette who appeared around the corner.

“Why?”

“JUST COME OVER HERE.”

“For what?!”

Yuji and Nobara practically dragged him over and forced him to join in their eavesdropping. He gives them a confused look but there’s a spark of curiosity in his eyes when he hears the murmur of your voice.

“I’m not your sugar, so stop calling me that – ”

“ – how about I call you my sugarbaby?”

“Satoru!” your giggle came from the other side of the door.

“Ooh, you’re calling my first name now? That’s so indecent.”

“I’m not gonna be your sugarbaby – ”

“ – you don’t want me to be your sugardaddy?!” Gojo acted offended and raised his voice.

Yuji and Nobara were desperately trying to keep it together, but their snickering and giggling kept getting worse until they were besides themselves with laughter – out of breath, seal-sounds and all. Megumi looked absolutely appalled and borderline distraught (he had a boyish crush on you).

“Stop eavesdropping, you three.”

“OH SHIT.” Nobara finally cracked and broke down laughing loudly with Yuji.

Gojo slid the door open with a smack, and they began to scramble immediately. You just peered from behind the desk where you were signing documents.

“W – wheehaha – we heard nothing! I swear!” Yuji promised.

“Sheesh, I didn’t think anyone in this world would be attracted to the likes of Gojo. Y/n, you can do better.” Nobara muttered.

“I – the audacity, I’m standing right here. Nobara, expect a forehead flick later.”

The three of them tumbled out of the halls and discussed you and Gojo like a hot topic.

“D’you think they’re like… actually dating?!” Yuji asked incredulously, standing on the last step of the stairs.

“Probably.” Nobara shrugged.

“Ugh…”

“Cheer up, Megumi. It’s not the end of the world.” Yuji chuckled.

Megumi just pouted and sat on the stairs, spreading his legs out and looking up at the sky very melancholically. He was so dramatic that the other two just laughed.

“D’you think they actually went on a date last weekend?” Yuji pondered.

“Ohhh… yeah, that’s probably what that was all about.”

“Gross!” Megumi whined.

“Megumi I’ve never seen you so jealous before.”

“What the hell, I’m not jealous!” he denounced.

Gojo came out to meet those three at the base of the stairs at just the right moment.

“You always say that you’re gonna marry Y/n when you grow up.” Yuji said.

“NO I DON’T? YOU’RE TWISTING MY WORDS, YUJI.”

Gojo placed a big hand on his head and gave him the fright of his life. He groaned when he realized you two just heard everything. Yuji and Nobara lost it laughing again.

“Sorry to steal your future wife.” He joked.

“BRO WHAT THE HELL – YUJI’S JUST JOKING!” Megumi’s cheeks reddened.

You walked out next, just the sight of you threw Nobara and Yuji right back into a fit of laughter that they were just struggling to get out of.

“Megumi, what’s the matter?” you asked.

“Nothing, I’m good – YUJI SHUT UP!”

He tackled Yuji right as he opened his mouth to say something. “Nobara – don’t – you – dare.”

“Hey future wife.” Gojo greeted you cheekily. You rolled your eyes.

“Hey future ex-husband.” You responded.

Megumi looked so comically distraught, the other two were howling. Gojo just smirked and sunk his hands into his pockets.

“You two, why is Megumi distraught?” you asked them suspiciously.

“He has a crush on you.” Nobara said.

Megumi went fully red. He looked as if he was contemplating summoning Shikigami on Nobara. Before he even checked your reaction or paid attention to his other teacher’s stifled giggles, he went rigid and stiffly walked away.

“So future wife… about that date.” Gojo said rather loudly.

“I KNEW IT!” Yuji hollered. Him and Nobara went off again, Megumi let out the most dramatic groan you’ve ever heard.

[ambrozjas]

hiii, could you maybe do a fic, or just headcannons of ponyboy and his fem!s/o getting caught cuddling by the gang??

That would be sooo cute🙏🙏🥺🥺

all pony could hear was your heartbeat, thumping loudly against his ear as he rested his head on your chest.

your fingers found their way into his hair, tangling themselves in a sea of brunet, his hair not greased per your request.

you always liked when ponyboy had his hair with no grease, just wanting to play with it and twirl the little curls that would form around his forehead.

his arms were wrapped around your midriff, squeezing occasionally as he dozed off, producing small hums in the process.

you leaned your head against pony’s pillow. the soft material feeling like heaven once your head had hit it, you looked down at pony and saw his eyes trained on you, his head lifted now.

his big brown eyes were glossy and half lidded with sleep. you desperately fought your closing eyes in order to admire ponyboy some more, before you two heard his bedroom door open and a whistle appear in the doorway. pony’s face went white.

“woah, ponyboy! didn’t know you was gettin’ it on in here!” steve said with sodapop laughing right behind him.

you rolled your eyes as pony threw himself off of you, his face turning a cherry red when the boys shouted and whooped.

but your heart absolutely dropped once you hear the heavy, solid footsteps coming down the hallway into pony’s room.

you practically shit yourself seeing darry stand in the doorway, smacking soda and steve on the back of their necks and nagging at them to retreat.

“c’mon, give ‘em space.” he said, pushing them away a bit. steve grumbled as he staggered away, soda hot on his heels. darry turned to the both of you, raising his eyebrows and pointing his finger in a warning manner, before leaving the door cracked and going back to the living room.

you’re convinced your heart palpitated for a moment, but once you looked at pony, you laughed. you pushed your hair back as pony awkwardly looked around and gave you a half-hearted chuckle, his cheeks dusted a still red.

these small moments, although embarrassing, were the ones you cherished most with ponyboy.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ UGHHH I LOVED WRITING THIS REQUESTTT THANK YOUU 🫶🫶

kiss kiss ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

[ghostmaldo]

ˏˋ ╎ ⁀➷❤️🍒´ˎ˗ Prompt: You don’t have to earn my affections with Lucifer and GN!Human!MC ˏˋ ╎ ⁀➷❤️🍒´ˎ˗

⭐️Headcannons⭐️

I didn’t have any energy left to really proof read this one but I was feeling this one a bit 😭.

Ask box : Open heart💙

Playlist played during writing process: https://youtu.be/a50H8JJ_kaE?si=q1lOOgvWQrJIFlnT

<—Lucifer pov —>

~It’s been a long grueling last few days for Lucifer. His paper work never seems to become lighter. The head aches become stronger and worse of all… his thoughts were swimming in self doubt. Even if he is the avatar of pride… his self doubt grew with each passing hour. Hair in disarray and his uniform splayed out messily on his body. Too consumed by the ink on the page to be bothered to fix it.

~ What was he doing wrong? His brothers didn’t like him… He wouldn’t either for being the soul reason for them to be kicked out of their heavenly home. He hadn’t been strong enough then… hell… he may not be strong enough now to carry them all.

~Thoughts like this continued to swirl in his clouded mind. Dragging him further in a dark abyss. The words on the page became mute and his hand holding his pen stopped moving.

~”Lucifer?” He flinched. Eyes flickering up to the door where he found MC standing there staring at him worriedly. He lifted his head quickly, greeting with a half-assed smile. “Ah, (MC), forgive me I didn’t see you standing there.”

~This didn’t deter the worry in their eyes. They calmly walked over to where he was, taking the seat next to him. “Lucifer… are you sure your alright?” They asked sweetly, it nearly made him break right there. Yet his pride kept a strong hold on him.

~”I’m fine (MC), I’m a bit busy with all this paper work-“

~ His words were cut off when MC wrapped their arms around his torso. Carefully laying their head over Lucifer's frantically beating heart. He froze, unsure of what was happening. Awkwardly stiff while MC comfortably embraced him.

~”You're a terrible liar.” They spoke simply, burying their head further in his chest. It was at that point he surrendered himself. He let his pen fall to his desk, melding himself with MC. Breathing in the scent they’d come to adore. He felt himself completely relaxed against them. The numbness in their fingers disappeared as he ran his hands through their hair.

~”I don’t know what's gotten into that silly head of yours Luci… But I’m here for you. Always.”

~He struggled to find a response to their statement. But it touched his heart in a way no other being had ever accomplished. He pulled them into his lap. Cradling them as close as possible to him. His worry slowly chipped away with the presence of MC.

“Thank you MC.”

~~

MC POV

~The sudden lack of rain drops slamming against their shoulder brought them out of their busy mind. Turning their gaze upward, they found Lucifer standing above them with a brow raised. An umbrella shielding them from the freezing rain.

~“MC, your soaking wet…”

~They peered at their uniform… sure enough he was right. Their clothes stuck uncomfortably to their skin and it was then they realized how cold they were. They’d been so caught up in their self loathing they hadn’t even realized when it had started raining.

~”Why don’t we go inside before your catch your death, perhaps you can tell me what's on your mind?”

~They nodded slowly, rising to their feet and followed Lucifer along to his room. Leaving behind a trail of wet foot prints along the carpet. Once in the safety of his room, MC cracked. Softly sobbing while Lucifer gently changed them out of their soaking clothes and provided his t-shirt and comfortable pants to be in. They confessed how unworthy they’d felt lately. Other demons' words lurking the back of their mind… what gave them the right to be among them at all? They were only human after all.

~ Lucifer directed them to sit on the bed, laying them down against his chest as they sobbed softly. Rubbing soothing circles into their back. “Human you may be, albeit perhaps not a smart one at times…” he flickered his eyes over to the soaking pile of clothes currently in his bathroom sink. “I’d say you are more than worthy to be here, here with us… with me. Don’t ever forget that. We cherish you very deeply MC.”

~He wiped away the stray tears from their eyes. Giving them a warm kiss on their forehead. The darkness chased away by Lucifer's confession. Soon enough, they both lay asleep in each other's arms. Forgetting about all those crude words. They didn’t matter. All that mattered was this moment.

[darlingofvalyria]

❝Like we're going to hustle the shit out of his brain.❞

part 01 | it's called a hustle, sweetheart

chapter summary:

[ The math is easy in Helaena's head. One brother, heartbroken and moping and in a red flag relationship redder than Mars, and one hot best friend who is definitely his type. It's 1 + 1 = 3, really. ]

[ 2,345 ] [ series masterlist ] | best friend's brother!aemond targaryen x f!reader, ft. cregan stark x f!reader & aemond targaryen x alys rivers,

contains— this is going to be comedic and stupid in its comedy, bear with me - fake dating, fwb situation, toxic on and off alysmond, no use of y/n - mentions of sexy times but no sexy times yet (it'll be coming though, so minors gtfo) - multi parts - no kings, no martyrs, no betas.

a/n— the main vibe is silly and sexy !! you're hel's hot friend !! you getting it down with cregan stark (as you should) !! dunno yet how many parts, but we vibing !! comment, reblog & like at will, mwa ♡

You and Hel watch her baby brother, Aemond of usually calm and pretty countenance, drag and wince as he took a mug of coffee- a slow, almost painful affair - mumble something, somewhat of a gratitude and an apology 2 in 1 special, and reverse drag and wince back into into the room.

It's a painful shuffle. A Michael Jackson awkward moonwalk attempt. A pitying regression from the usually very pretty boy you've made it a habit of teasing.

In the past few months, there hadn't be a lot of teasing from you.

When the door clicks, you turn to Helaena with an absurdly amused snort. "He's really such a pathetic little meow meow, huh?"

She slaps your arm. "Stop it. He's really down. Alys really did a number on him this time."

"She always seems to do a number on him every time they breakup." You fight the urge to roll your eyes, for the sake of the concerned frown on your best friend's pinched, starlight eyebrows.

After all, this isn't the first time of the very many on and off moments of the Alys and Aemond Train. You bore witness to it like you're sat in an empty cinema, popcorn stale and it hurts your jaw to chew, and the train has come unloose from the tracks about thirty minutes into the film, but the plot is predictable because it recycles.

Which makes it a garbage film you can hardly stomach, rolling your eyes and getting the fuck out of the cinema about to demand a refund.

Sure the first time, you felt bad, felt horrible for the both of them as it did seem like they loved each other. You had even commended the maturity of their decision, expressed sympathy and an even pious comments of 'but you were both so good together!'

But then the pity kind of loses its momentum when it's been the third time. The fourth. The fifth. So on and on and on...

At some point, you start thinking that maybe Aemond Targaryen— of pretty Jupiter glaze and cherry-pinched lips, a Greek god humbling at the image of Alicent Hightower and Viserys Targaryen's genes combined— third time's the charm! or fourth in Viserys' case, snort  — is kind of a masochist.

Because despite saying that they're growing toxic for each other, he comes back.

Every.

Goddamned.

Time.

The maturity made way for screaming matches, bolts of peaking jealousy, and purposeful social media posts made to hook, line, and sinker the other person— like. Gods.

There was pettiness. There was red flags. And then there was the Wikipedia page that pops up when you search 'who is the worst toxic relationship?' and it doesn't even have a paragraph. Or a sentence. Just a picture of Aemond and Alys.

If Aegon Targaryen was made of easy vices and churlish, lazy smirks— his fingers, though cold and sometimes clammy, are still nice against your shoulder when he makes lazy circles at an attempt to flirt before you laugh it off and threaten rip his balls off, because if there's a few things that piss off Helaena, it's her older brother trying to go near any of her friends —

Aemond liked it in deep, ruby-red shards of a cracked heart being put together again and again. At first with superglue. Now he was more or less going with prayers and spit.

At some point, the pity turns to amusement turns to a roll of your eyes turns to concern shifting from the young man to his sister, your best friend, left somewhat the only one left to care for her crash and burn of a baby brother.

And you know for a fact that Daeron Targaryen is a menace on a dirt bike, and yet out here, in these streets, Helaena was worrying for Aemond.

Their mother's favourite child, their grandfather's most studious, and the pride and ego of Kings Landing U Business Department.

Helaena isn't used to worrying about Aemond like this.

You're not used to Helaena worrying for Aemond like this, and the usually pretty boy you liked to tease was starting to piss you off because of it.

"Hel," you start carefully, knowing you're threading on dangerous waters. As much as Hel adored you and no matter how many times she says her brothers are idiots cut from a blended cloth of her Hightower and Targaryen roots— she was also unmistakably protective of them.

She sighs, putting down the pancake batter she was mixing, and you, who was in charge of actually frying them, turn. She had hoped to talk to Aemond when he woke up, but clearly he was still very much smashed at any attempts of comfort or reprimand, even she wasn't sure anymore.

"I know, okay?" Hel mutters. "I know it's stupid."

"It's not stupid," you rush. At her doubtful look, you insist. "It's really not. I care about the little punk too. Even though lately I kind of just... want to hang him by his boxers on the balcony... make him see reason from there."

It works, Hel laughs. Then she smirks. "That little punk is only three years younger than you and a whole foot taller, babe." Then she blinks. Eyes going wide as saucers, which would be comical if not for the fact that she looked like she got the prophecy of Bathroom Urge Number #1. "Oh gods. Oh my god!"

"...Did you poop yourself?" Her face descends into a scowl, swatting you with the bowl. You yelp, giggling. "Hey, hey! Stop- Hel, you're going to spill everywhere! You know kitchen rules! No violence near the stove!"

"I was about to say I got it, you harlot! I didn't shit myself!" But she stops pestering you with the bowl as you snort.

"Okay, one, harlot? Who are you? A medieval peasant?"

"Please. If we were in the Middle Ages, I'd be a princess."

"That's actually too true, my princess, how dare I."

Hel raises an eyebrow. "But back to point- wait, actually, damn, where were you last night?"

Helaena already knew the answer. Apart from the fact that it is a best friend's duty to be apart of every slight and win in another's life, you had used your regaling tales about Cregan Stark as a means to distract Hel from worrying about her brother every time he broke up (or her; they're very gracious to each other as they take turns in piling to this toxicity), once again, with Alys.

"At Cregan's," you respond lightly, turning to flip another pancake into an awaiting plate. You were at Cregan's last night, so you only found out about Aemond's newly- and briefly - placed single status this morning when you got into the apartment you shared with Hel. She promptly placed her brother in her room while she, seeing as you weren't in yours, slept on your bed.

"And what did you do?" She knew exactly what you did— what you both did, every time since meeting again two months ago at the bar you worked.

"I helped him, uh." You stuck your tongue out, busying yourself with breakfast to clench at an excuse. "With his taxes."

Helaena snorts. "What does taxes have anything to do with the hickies? Gods, you look like you got mauled."

You snicker, fingers briefly dancing over the blue and violet marks over your neck and collarbone. It dipped lower to your chest and thighs, but you weren't going to tell your best friend that. By her wry grin, she already knew anyway.

"Okay, okay, enough of that. You said you 'got it'? Got what? A way to stop your brother's toxic relationship with the very hot older woman that we all known and adore as Alys Rivers?"

"Yes!" Then she hesitates. "But... are you and Cregan...?"

"What? No! I told you." You roll your eyes. "It's just a thing with us. We're both single, not really ready for the dating scene. He broke up with a serious relationship not long ago, he's not ready for it, and I'm sorry, but unlike your brother, is dealing healthily with it."

"With you."

"With me, yes." You shrug, turning off the stove once you've scraped the entire bowl. "So no, we're not in a relationship. But what's your plan got to do with my amazing- and frequent - sex life?"

"And you're sure you don't like him like that?"

You roll your eyes. Hard. "Yes, my royal pain the ass, I am."

Before you can react, Helaena has grasped you by your arms, watery lavender eyes wide and begging.

"Hel, I love you, but I don't like you like that."

"I love you too and same, no, no—"

"What do you mean 'no, no'? That is so offensive—"

"—I mean Aemond."

"I don't really love your brother either, though, I find him extremely pretty," you muse.

"Good! Might help with my plan!"

"What is your plan?"

"I will owe you, so, so much."

Your eyes narrow. "The fact that you're not telling it to me straight means it's a big ask, Targaryen."

As guilt flashes in her eyes, you know you're right. "So, so much. I swear. I will do your laundry— the chores! All of 'em! For a month!"

"Helaena Targaryen, I swear to the gods—"

"Canyoupleasefakedatemybrother?!"

You blink, triyng to unwound what she just spat in one exhale. "I am not fucking the sad out of your brother, that is also not healthy."

"What!? No!" Hel inhales, enunciating better now. "I said, Can you please fake date my brother? My poor, heartbroken, wonderful, you said so yourself 'very pretty', baby brother?"

She blinks, owlish and pityingly, the way you know she knows has gotten her out of a lot of messes. Has gotten her brother, Aegon, out of a lot of messes with their grandfather, who you know to be an asshole to anyone— the incident when he sideway called you a whore, still very bright in your mind; a grudge that keeps on going — but his granddaughter.

"Hel, I adore you, but that's the single most, stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"No, no, it's a lot more complicated than just you fake dating him, duh, I mean like, he knows it too! Like we're going to hustle the shit out of his brain!"

Your eyes flicker to Helaena's room where said sad sack she wants to hustle the shit out of, is in. "Elaborate."

"I meant like. Okay, so we know how this is going to go, right?" She rolls her eyes, her voice lowering to a hush, but her grip on you is just as strong. "They're broken up, he mopes around for a few days, goes to the seven stages of grief the on steroids version, making weird posts and baits against Alys until one of them takes a bite, then they meet trying to feel each other, suss each other out, next thing you know, they're in bed together and we're back to the Good Days of Aemond and Alys as seen on TV! But oh wait, it's worse every time it recycles! Like your favourite show but with butt-ugly new cast they never address!"

Hel takes a deep breath, defeated and desperate all at once. "I am so tired of it. Mom is so tired of it. You're tired of it. And I know, deep down, Aems knows this isn't a sustainable way to love someone. To be in love with someone. But he doesn't know anything but Alys. She's his first everything- yeah, I know about that too, it's disgusting. But now... there's you! My very hot, very beautiful, very amazing best friend."

You nod. "I am agreeing with most of your points so far, especially the compliments geared toward me."

She playfully slaps your arm, continuing. "If we pitch this as like, you helping Aemond make Alys jealous... make it seem as if we're helping him out by sussing her out... you're a total bombshell, babe, Aems will see that there's more to love and lust than just Alys Rivers. It doesn't have to tell all, start and end with her. Every time." She grins as if she's so smart, finally releasing you and placing her hands on her hips to complete the look of 'Yeah, my idea is brilliant, I know'.  "We just need to get his eye away from the not really prize, and make him realise there's more than just the toxic in and out of a failing relationship with your first love."

It's hard to tell her that her idea might not be so bad after all, but Helaena is already grinning as she reads your face like an open book, jumping and clapping around silently.

"Hold on, girlfriend," you say lamely. "How are we even sure I'm his type? Imagine thinking all this, and I'm a plate of grass to a carnivore."

Helaena snorts. "Please, girlfriend. You're older than him, hot as hell, and has a coochie that keeps Cregan Stark well entertained that he's politely said no to the female population that wants him. You are not grass. You are a prime rib-eye they need to ship from the other side of the globe and further ruin our climate."

At your snort, a blush spreading across your face, you press your tongue against your cheek, not willing to concede just yet but feel your will slipping with all the positives.

First, no chores for a fucking month.

Two, you'll have fun (in his own way), adorable pretty boy Aemond again, sans the toxic.

"He can't fall in love with me, Helaena," you say carefully. "I'm serious. I don't like him that way."

She is already shaking her head.

"Of course not, he won't. We just need him to focus on anything else other than Alys. Gods bless her soul."

"She's still alive, Hel, Jesus."

"But you're perfect for this. No ones going to fall in love with anyone. I promise." Helaena grins, tearing a piece of pancake and popping it in her mouth. "My plan is foolproof."

A few thousand hours later, her plan, is in fact, not foolproof.

TAGLIST (message to be added! please ensure you are able to be tagged to get notifs): @fan-goddess @snh96 @valeskafics @opheliaas-stuff @tempo-rary-fix @fantasticpeaceharmony @diannnnsss

[darlingofvalyria]

❝—Aemond, just shove your fist up my skirt!❞

part 02 | baby, all you gotta do is trust me

chapter summary:

[ Cregan is a menace in bed (sexily), Aemond is a menace on social media (derogatory), Helaena is a menace (lovingly). ]

[ 4,715 ] [ series masterlist ] | best friend's brother!aemond targaryen x f!reader, ft. cregan stark x f!reader & aemond targaryen x alys rivers,

contains— smutty beginnings, a bit angsty, mostly fluff - nsfw: p & v sex, orgasm denial, degradation kink, mating press - lemme just introduce you to firefighter!cregan stark ahe - toxic alysmond but both of them are at fault, fwb situations, fake dating, slow-ish burn - sad sack aemy is a pathetic meow meow - viserys i has a spank kink, no i will not elaborate further - no use of y/n - no gods, no kings, no betas.

a/n— it's entirely my fault, i know. i made cregan too hot. aemond might be a bit op w/ his relationship with reader, but he & her have a comfortable past...soz. comment, reblog & like at will, mwa ♡

There's this thing that Cregan does with his hips.

It's always that sweet spot when your legs are either over his shoulders or haphazardly splayed against his waist, wide open as he drilled into you like a miner trying to find gold (and he would argue that in fact, your orgasms are gold to him)—

There's that moment when he feels you clenching, when you're so close to the precipice of seeing heaven that the motherfucker of the North slows down, sweat-slicked and breathing hard, he slows down enough at the haze of you reaching orgasm where he just.

Produces waves across his body, keeping a slow, toe-curling momentum with his hips, body-waving his dick in and out of you in a slow but purposeful movement— and he's smirking down atyou're fucked out state growing irritated doing something for him.

And before you're truly out of that orgasmic state, about to curse his entire bloodline of ruined orgasms forever or push him off his own godsdamned bed and break his stupidly good penis, he's bracing himself against the side of your head, laughing— not meanly, just amused, the asshole —and asks, almost like he's just asking you for the weather, "Does the pretty little slut want to cum?"

And he's not really asking, because he's grasped your thighs, shoving you into a mating press, and having you see stars in seconds.

"You think my neighbours called 911?" he muses, fixing his hair while in front of the floor length mirror in his room as you lounge about lazily on his bed, already washed and dressed for your own shift at Meleys, sans your pants. That's still in the living room from where Cregan yanked it.

"Hm?" you ask idly, not really focused on the conversation as you scrolled through IG, rolling your eyes at Aegon's post; Hel's big brother was in Ibiza getting sun-tanned in the morning (as much as his pale as fuck skin could tan) and getting it down at clubs at night, liking it nevertheless.

"Your scream at the end there was so loud, I'm pretty sure you broke Mrs. Beesbury out of her coma." You look up at Cregan's menace of a grin, playful and goofy in his tight shirt and thick work pants for his shift at the fire station. "I might be expecting five jars of honey from Mr. Beesbury as thanks."

You roll your eyes at him, laughing. He always got like this post-orgasm; loose and goofy and prone to making the dumbest jokes. It's cute, and on a good day, it does it for you.

It's not like you don't find Cregan attractive. It's how you got into this FWB situation with him in the first place; the dark hair, the scruff on his face, the firefighter bod— and by the Seven, what. A. Bod — when he and his co-workers stumbled into Meleys two months back, seeing your former high school crush aged up and hot had you on your knees for him in the back alley faster than he can hold you from the roots of your hair and grunt.

On a good day, it's easy to see getting past the easy arrangement of sending emojis to alert you wanna get dicked down and him sending a tongue and a heart, sending memes just for the hell of it at random parts of the day— breaking the easy friendship, the nice arrangement, and see where it gets you two, with Stark. On a good day, you can be submerge in the what-if, cute couple-y scenarios and giggle.

But despite the orgasm that could shatter a septa's vows quicker than you can say 'Oh holy Mother', your good day was tentative, broken with a click.

Aemond had made his first social media post since breaking up (the latest one) with Alys.

A darkened bathroom with explicit, orange-glowed lights that covered most of his person but not the slick show of water, freshly showered, against his torso, his chest, his abs. Droplets clung in places one would imagine licking him all over.

You know that bathroom to be the one in his high class gym, one of his favourite places. Since the toxic cycle with Alys started, he frequented it more. Aemond Targaryen was a man of routines and sharp o'clocks, so you know this isn't particularly off-key for him. But the posing (mostly) completely bare with water on his wiry muscles?

"Oh, this whore." You can't help it, as much as it irritated you— because it is clearly a means to get it across that he is newly single without actually saying anything, you can just imagine his DMs firing up with notifs — you couldn't help but giggle at the absurdity.

Aemond Targaryen. Publicly posting a thirstrap.

As public as his social media can get, it's a private account with less than 200 people.

A call rings in your phone, Helaena's face flashing, and you're still giggling when she half-shrieks, "DID YOU SEE HIS IG STORY OH MY GOD."

Your gaze meets Cregan, his bushy, dark eyebrows firing upward upon being able to hear Hel's voice while you winced. You put her on speaker as Cregan giddily comes closer to the phone.

"Good evening to you too, Helaena," you say warmly, giving Cregan's arm a light kick, mouthing, 'Don't you have work?'

Stark had the audacity to shush you, pressing a finger against his lips. You mouth, 'Gossip.' In a mature response, he stuck his tongue out.

Truly a wonder that not twenty minutes ago, this man had you keening over an orgasm.

Helaena continues on, "— I've had enough of this. I already have one slutty brother, I cannot have another one. There can only be two sluts in this family and no more. And that backlit? Seven hells, the whorishness."

"Hel, babe, you are not a slut." You meet eyes with Cregan who waggles his eyebrows, pursing his lips in an air kiss. "Trust me."

Hel snorts. "I know that, I meant my father. The whore of Babylon got nothing on Viserys first of his name, spank king extraordinaire."

If you could simultaneously choke on air and saliva, you would. "Helaena Targaryen!"

Cregan smacked his entire face down on his bed and ate his covers to muffle his laughter, his body shuddering as he did his best. His ass did look good in this view.

"What? Stranger may have mercy on me, but I tell you, before he died and before their marriage imploded, and at times traumatically problematic, they sure did get it freaky when they could. They gave it a good run and traumatised me in the process. I shouldn't have insisted my room was that close to them, maybe I would have ended up being an upstanding citizen of the community."

Cregan flips up, giggles spilling him as he muffled it with his hands. You kicked him again, trying to keep him away from your phone lest Hel figure out where you were again.

"Helaena, my love, compared to your brothers, you are such an upstanding person of the citizenry, the mayor should be giving you an award at this point."

"Right? Maiden have mercy, how busy do you think your shift is going to be tonight?"

You bit your lip guiltily while Cregan smirked, standing up as he finished lacing his boots. Hel thought you had gone straight to work, making up excuses about trying out a new recipe for next month. "Um. Not sure? Probably not by much, it's a weekday."

You don't lie, not really. Cregan mouths 'liar' and throw a pillow at him.

"Good, I'll send Aemond to you tonight. I already told him yesterday and he kind of just made a noncommittal hum— praise hands for another traumatised child of Alicent Hightower who has his own brand of communications issues —" You can just see Helaena's hard eye roll, and you massaged your lips to keep your laughter. The first time you met Hel, you never would have thought she slapped-back self-deprecating jokes out of her pockets faster than you can think a response to the last one. She was sweet, kind, a floral, bohemian girl with her pastel lavender pants and daisy flower clips.

And then you met her, vibed, and there was a dark funny humour to Helaena Targaryen that you always fought just bursting out laughter at the most inopportune of moments.

As sweet and floaty as she appeared, she was a menace.

"— anyway, Mr. Social Whore is going there later tonight, I made him promise. I said if you don't tell me he didn't come, I'm posting every photo I have of him from his naked baby pics to pre-pubescent Teen Teeny-Weeny Aemond, I do not care."

You whistle. "Damn, Hel, okay, I'll tell you when he comes."

"Good. OPLAN Get Aemond Out of This Bad Track Before He Fully Becomes Aegon 2.0 has now commenced. I love my brothers, I truly do, but I can only handle one Aegon at a time. I cannot be scrolling through social media in fear for my life times two, bestie, I refuse." Hel's voice pitches. "I'll talk to you later, bye, babe."

"Bye, Hel!"

Before you could put the phone down, she calls out, teasing, "BYE CREGAN!"

Silence. Then Cregan laughs, calling out, "Bye, Hel!"

The last thing either of you heard is her tinkling giggle before she drops the call.

"Fuck," you mutter, call finished.

Cregan wolf-whistles. "She's good."

You throw another pillow. "It's because you kept giggling like a schoolgirl!"

"Excuse me, that was a manly schoolgirl giggle, I'll have you know." He picks up his keys, winking. "Come on, I'll drop you off at the bar before I pole dance the night away to my job."

You cracked, snorting through the mental image of Cregan Stark, Lead Firefighter of the Ice Wolves Division, shaking his ass on the pole. You pad to the living room. "I'll give you a dollar for your troubles."

"Cheap ass!" he shouts after you.

Aemond arrives two hours into your shift, a little awkward— no doubt remembering your silent judgment of him the morning of his post-break up affair as that has also been the last interaction you've had with him before this, almost a week ago, and now here, meeting you at the insistence (and plotting) of his sister.

Your eyes meet ice water blue. He freezes, then straightens up, giving you a shrewd tilt forward. A nod. It's jerky, mechanical. You roll your eyes, mouth twitching, before you motion him over.

You are already making his favoured drink starter, Sazerac, when he slides into an empty seat on the bar. Your back is to him, refusing anymore interaction, and you know the usual comfort he finds in the eased silence you provide is nonexistent.

Out of all of Helaena's brothers, you've always liked Aemond the most. You teased him it was because the others are Aegon, duh, and Daeron, still in high school and never really around you "old people", but it's also because it's so easy to be around Aemond. When Helaena introduced you to the tall, lithe man who hummed politely at his sister's introduction of you, you found him intriguing.

It's not just the scarred eye, or the pretty, almost marble-statue visage (because by gods, seriously. The Mother took her sweet, loving time crafting the fourth Targaryen, bloody hell— like those cheekbones? With that cupid's bow lip? Okay, Mother, you have your favourites, we get it), or that he tended to keep himself in the background, let everyone else stretch into the conversation.

He often dipped in and out of the social pool like a mirage; a trick of the eye. A nod, a hum— almost, always an answer to someone else's direct question or someone— usually Aegon — dragging him into the conversation with an anecdote needing an input, not matter how inane.

And it intrigued you.

You took yourself and your drink of choice at the time— a Shirley Temple — and sat right beside him. He looked up at you, that one eye of violet widening slightly because you had just. Plopped beside him, thighs touching, before he smoothens out his expression, shifting at your direct eye contact and small smile.

"Can I... help you?" he finally asks, thoroughly waylaid but trying not to appear so.

"The scar." You nodded to his face as he froze. "Tell me about it."

His face had been so controlled, so guarded, when he tersely said, "My sister didn't tell you?"

"Nope. It's not something for her to tell me, isn't it? It's a personal thing. Most scars are." You shrugged. "Even if they aren't, I'd prefer if you tell me. It's your body. Your body your story."

He stared at you for a quarter of a minute before he asked, "Are you drunk?"

"No, why?"

"You're too... forward."

You smirked. "I've been told. So are you telling me or nah, pretty boy?"

And he stared at you for a minute longer, or two, or three— the stare flickers to emotions so fast; shock, confusion, flatter, his own intrigue — before he told you about a stupid fight between children, about a stupid reason par another, and though his words had been concise, obviously keeping a hell of a lot more between vowels and tightened jaw, you don't press him. You let him talk.

At the end, you said, "Badass. Definitely less of a lame reason than what I was imagining, but 9/10 story. Your voice really sold most of it. It's good for telling stories."

In his brain, you could just see the click when his eyes flicked to his sister and back to you. Ah, so that's how they're friends. And he hums, truly, more than anything, stumped by you. And you smiled.

"You're definitely going to be my favourite Targaryen Brother."

It's no wonder then, that you two had gotten close. You had forced a friendship out of him, and the very unattached guy to literally anything new— suspicious of offerings, angry at pity, wary of kindness — had taken into it with a white flag.

So when the whole Alys situation happened, things shifted.

"Sazerac," you announce finally, placing the drink in front of him. He thanks you with a quiet hum, having stopped fidgeting now that you've acknowledged his existence. You raise your eyebrow as his sips turns to gulp, crossing your arms.

Just because you had promised Hel you were going to help him, doesn't mean you were going to make it easy for him. He knows you're pissed; despite the calm structure he had composed himself in, you can see the twitch in his fingers, the way his eye turned away from you the moment you refused to project your normal, warm aura with him.

He settles his drink down, watching the rim of the glass for a minute before he speaks, low and steady. "You're angry with me."

You snort softly. "Wonder why you think so?"

He sighs. "I didn't mean to. To let it get this... messy." He winces at the word, hating it.

You sigh. "Aemy." He comes alive at the familiar nickname, sitting straighter, a relief on the edge of a cliff. "Honestly, I don't give a shit. You want to be trapped in this mess? You don't want to listen to other people tellign you, 'hey dude, maybe no?'"

He winces, remembering the third time he and Alys had broken up. The police car, Aegon vomitting, Hel crying. It makes you roll your eyes.

"Sure, have at it. Have fun, in fact. There's only so much sympathy I can give you for seeking out the problem that you know is a problem before I get tired. Before I stop giving a shit, because there's someone else I love that is starting to get hurt by it. I can only love you enough as much as you are willing to help yourself." Your eyes then narrow, half-glaring into him. "But what I'm truly getting angry about is how much this is affecting Helaena."

"I understand." He sighs again, calling your name but you raise a hand.

"Hold on, I have a bone to pick with you."

"Okay."

You look at him. A second. He waits. And waits.

He speaks up. "Yes?"

You sigh. It's hard to stay mad at him, you've always found so. "I don't know. I had paragraphs to say to you in front of a mirror, but now that it's you I'm looking at, everything just went away." Under your breath, you mutter, "stupid pathetic meow, meow face."

His mouth twitch. Ah. The familiar Targaryen smugness. Pinch Cocky Aemond is back. "Did my face distract you too much, ñuha riña my lady?"

You roll your eyes, unable to hide your own smile. If you called him Aemy, he called you the High Valyrian, his ancestral tongue, my lady. To tease, to establish comfort. You've always liked this better, being closer to Aemond than despising him for his stupid choices and big feelings he has a hard time unraveling, so he makes said stupid choices.

It's ease, it's familiarity, and you both fall into a high step.

"Okay, nerd, so what did Hel—" A customer calls you. "—One sec. Sorry about that, what can I get you? Ooh, nice choice, alright give me a minute." As you pulled a measuring cup and gin, you nod back to Aemond. "What did Hel tell you we're doing exactly?"

"That you're helping me... with Alys." A hesitance. "I know you don't like her—"

"— whoa, hold up, Aemy, I like her. I like her very much. I think she's a bad bitch, absolutely sexy, and clearly, she has good tastes which I respect her for." He had the good graces to blush, still sort of unused by the compliments you so freely give him. "What I don't like is how your relationship with her— here, hey, you're welcome! — has evolved. You were so good with each other, Aemy. And then..."

You mimic a sound of a crash and burn, and a tiny person screaming. He huffs out a laugh before sobering.

"I know." He sighs. "I don't... I don't understand it myself. There's a part of me that recognises I should walk away. And then there's another part that is just... it's Alys."

His palms, open and upturned, falls on the counter. Pensive. Begging. A confused, wanting penitent looking up at a god asking for direction. "I've loved her for so long." His voice quiets, like the words are sacred.

"I've loved her for so long," he repeats as if the words have worn itself out on his tongue, "it's hard to see past her. Ñuha riña, she has always been my future. It's all her. I don't know anything else outside of her."

You pour an Arbor Gold in a stemmed glass and pushes it to him. It's his favourite drink and he smiles at you, at the care, at the memories.

"I understand that," you say carefully. "And I already promised Hel I'd do it, whatever you need of me, to make her see you. But you should know that I'm doing this more for her than for you because... Aems, I believe you deserve so much more. A love that's exciting without it being harmful. A love that's pretty, as easy as breathing. One that doesn't hurt at the edges and pinches like a barbed wire."

"Is that possible for me?" he asks ironically, trying for a joke but you catch that lilt at the end. At that exhale. So much of his history had been broached by pain, borne from it. There are injuries that run so deep, they continue to bleed.

"Honestly?"

He places the wineglass down. "Yes."

You smile. "Yes."

You don't know if he believes you, or if he just indulges in your starry-eyed view of his future, but he smiles nevertheless, as best as he can and murmurs a gratitude.

It's pacifying, insecurity. You let it go for now because there's nothing you can say to a person truly down to trust your words.

"You're going to do this, then?" he asks. "For Alys and I?"

You shake your head. "I'm doing this for Hel and no chores for a month." And you, to show you that there's more past a future that you and I both know doesn't exist anymore. That if you prolong it, ignore how deep the barbed wire has gotten into your skin, it'll be too hard to untangle it when you realised you've bled out enough.

So will you just wear the pain proudly after that?

You shake another order in place, pulling ice and mint. You raise an eyebrow. "I've always known I was going to help. Are you willing to do this? Honestly Aemy, this can go two ways. One, she'll realise losing you is the worst thing that can ever happen— truly losing you to someone else, or two, she thinks you're truly moving on from her. And that's assuming she even thinks it's real, like I mean come on, it's me and you."

He arches a perfect silver eyebrow. You had already asked him if he gets his eyebrows done, and apart from Helaena messing with him back in high school, has been all natural. You think he's lying.

"And what is me and you?"

"Aemy, come on. I'm your sister's best friend. We're like... I dunno, family? She's always known that."

"Doesn't mean she's never felt jealous of you," he hums, swirling his wine with pinch fingers. It's elegant. Entrancing. The red liquid swirls and there are knots and strain in his hand, going through his arm.

And despite the bags under his eye, he still looks so good. Silvery blond hair wrapped in a low half updo, the shirt that hid nothing of his muscled chest.

His words sink in, breaking you from the hypnotizing reverie of looking at a marbled statue. "What? She felt jealous of me?"

He smiles gently, a little bit cockily. "Ñuha riña. Of course she did. Just because she understood your place in my life, in Hel's, doesn't erase the fact that you're gorgeous and we get along well. She liked you, truly, but she isn't blind. It's nothing that you've done, even she knew that. You're just too perfect."

You blink at him, unable to stop yourself from blushing. He chuckles meanly.

"Shut up."

He exhales a laugh. "I didn't say anything!"

"You know what you did." You give him the stink eye before you serve two more customers, thanking at a pretty hefty tip from one of your regulars, bidding him goodnight as he left. It is a slow night, you didn't lie to Helaena.

You almost don't catch Aemond murmuring, "I've missed this. I've missed you. I never like it when you're pissed at me."

"Good," you joke. "So you can watch yourself better. But yeah, I've missed you too. So how are we doing this?"

"I thought you had an idea, having agreed to Hel's plan before I even knew there was a plan."

You roll your eyes. "Well, I've had a few ideas here and there... it's more your comfort I'm worried about."

He frowns, pouty lips pursing. "My comfort?"

You place your palms behind the bar and hitch yourself up by your physical strength. He leans forward, confused still. You smirk. "Well, Aemy, I'm wearing a skirt."

"I... I don't know what that means, ñuha riña." He blinks his one good eye. "Nice skirt? You look pretty."

You force a pout instead of getting flustered by the compliment out of the blue. "I forgot you weren't all that popular in high school."

"No need for insults," he deadpans.

You laugh. "We're going to make Alys jealous, right? It'll be too much to hard launch my new status of existence in your life when you just broke up... but... if we can allude, at least..."

"I-" His frown deepens, the skin on his other eye, the scar, pinches as you see his mind whirr and whirr where your mind was reaching. "I'm still confused."

"Gods, alright, I'll just show you."

"Dude, bro, just put your hand under my skirt—"

"Ñuha riña—"

"Yeah, you know what, godsfuckingdamnit, if I alienate you that bad just shove your fist up my skirt, yes, Aemond, just shove your fist up my skirt!"

He calls your name, tips of his ears beet red, as a few patrons turn to you two, bewildered and a little amused. You wave at them but you sigh noisily at him. You're sat beside him on the counter, your phone on one hand with the camera app open, and you're glaring at him.

"Are you seriously telling me you've never placed your hand on Alys' thigh?"

"Of course I have!" He lets out a strangled sigh and groan.

"What's the difference?"

"I've never done it so publicly," he explains as calmly as possible, as if he's talking to a child. "And with the idea of posting it for everyone else to ogle. I've always just done it... under a table. Or. On her knee..."

"You're blushing so hard, you look like a tomato?" You snort. "I'm your fake Alys now, and we're soft launching an intimate relationship. This is basic."

"You're not my fake Alys. You're not my fake anytihng and you're not Alys." he says seriously, frown sharpening into a point before he exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Can't it just be my hand over yours?"

 You frown, forgoing the uncomfortable twinge from not my anything and not Alys. "Is this uncomfortable for you? Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"It's not that, never that." He purses his lip. "It's the opposite. I don't want to make you uncomfortable with my touch."

"Aemy," you say softly, smiling slightly. "I am giving you permission. Wouldn't have suggested it otherwise. And you touching me has never made me uncomfortable. Now, come on. Hand on my thigh, pretty boy, so I can take this pic and get the ball rolling."

There's a second more of restraint, of holding back, and before you sigh and suggest something else— maybe he is truly uncomfortable with you, with you not being anything to him, and not being Alys, but is too polite to say anything — he places his palm, warm and heavy, against your exposed thigh.

It's a... new sensation. You've held hands with Aemond before, smacked it a few times even, but it's different when it's on a more... well, when it's not on a non intimate area of your body. New skin, new nerve endings to his familiar warmth and crease.

It makes you swallow how big his hand is compared to your whole ass thigh. Thumb to pinky and he nearly swallows the gaps.

He really has pretty hands. Knotted veins twisting upward to muscled arms.

Both of you nestle in the quiet, just staring at his hand over your thigh.

"Okay," he says, voice even. He's taller than you, always taller even when you're both sat down, and he's closer to the top of your head at this distance, his breath flutters against your hair. "What now?"

"I... take the picture." You blink, shaking your head slightly, as you take his drink and add your hand within the frame so it looks like you mean to take a photo of your drink and not the glaringly obvious hand on your thigh, before you you angle it. You take one, two, three. A few different angles before you feel you've got a few nice ones. "Okay, done."

It feels cold when he takes his hand away, giving your thigh a soft tap before it's back on the counter. He hums.

You get back on the work, choosing one and posting it promptly on your stories. You place Meleys' location and a kiss mark emoji before you post it.

"It does look intimate," Aemond hums, observing the story from his own phone. "But why did you post it on your account and not mine?"

"She's your ex, Aemy," you say, hopping off the chair and moving back behind the counter. The world re-orbits. Everyone back in their positions, the lines clear. The planets move in their normal trajectory again.

"She'll know it's your hand. And if we post it on mine, it has more of an impact, don't you think? We're friends on IG. She sees it on my stories, a man's hand on her thigh, in a background that's no doubt a bar. The hand is sorta familiar. And you posted that slutty mirror pic earlier tonight."

He blushes, you smirk. Planets and moons orbit back, their pace slow, their lightyears fast. Best friend's sister. Sister's best friend.

"If she doesn't recognise your hand at first, your story will prompt it on her brain. It's not a hard connection, you've been together for years. It's a girl thing. An exes thing. Bingo bango, the brain is running. Surely it isn't Aemond's hand? Even if it is... is it truly romantic?"

He exhales. "You're... kind of an evil genius."

"Just kind of? Damn." And you smile because he laughs, the sound spreading warmth across your chest.

Yeah, this is better. It always feels good when you and Aemond are on the same team, when you're not mad at him and vice versa, no matter how stupid the reason.

Saturn rings snap, black holes sink and swim in galaxies so far, far away.

You put your phone on DND as soon as the first five notifs pop up, prompting a barrage of other notifications. When you took a glance at it, it's all a varying degree of 'WHAT THE FUCK', 'WHO THE FUCK', and 'GO GET THAT DICK, GIRL OMG!!'

Only Helaena's message matters, and it brings a smile on your lips.

 'Noice'.

Another ping.

'Also— what a bunch of harlots'.

You show it to Aemond and both of you burst in stupid laughter.

TAGLIST (message to be added! please ensure you are able to be tagged to get notifs): @fan-goddess @snh96 @valeskafics @opheliaas-stuff @tempo-rary-fix @fantasticpeaceharmony @diannnnsss @iamavailablesstuff @spinachtz @at-a-rax-ia @bespinnn @tsujifreya @moonlightfoxx @kemillyfreitas @joyouart @bananzaa @honey-on-mars @alexa4040 @cinnamonbambii @wintrr13 @wxb-slingrr

[succubeats]

      ❝Why do they call it oven when you of in the cold food of out hot eat the food?❞

[succubeats]

Tag dump!

[arminsumi]

Hii can we pls get an extremely smitten in love like love sick gojo pls?????

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤

A/N: ABSOLUTELY!! 🥰

Wc ≈ 1.7k

Pairing: GOJO Satoru x f.reader

Summary: the annoying popular boy at college has his heart set on you 😌💕

Warnings; it's a little cheesy

There’s a white-haired boy that always, always sits next to you in every single class. He’s got the looks that kill, one-of-a-kind features, almost too pretty to be on earth; the kind of boy that makes even teachers stutter in the middle of their lecture simply because of his presence.

So many girls fawn over him, like he’s the rockstar of your college with a bunch of groupies following wherever he goes.

And that ticks off one reason you don’t like Gojo Satoru.

The other reasons? To narrow it down; he’s an arrogant cocky flirty bastard who will not stop asking you out to parties and dates. Persistent and determined to make you crack and finally fall for him. Relentless and fast in his pursuit of your heart no matter how far it runs – he’s gonna getcha, he knows it, it’s just a matter of time.

He’s never felt this deeply or intensely. It makes his head spin. When you walk in the room, when you speak, when he sees your name on an attendee list… it has him feeling tingly and lightheaded. Even getting a text from you makes him jump; he replies in two seconds and pouts when you leave him on read. He even complains to his mom and Suguru about you.

This boy is the walking symptoms of lovesick.

But he’s in heavy denial about it. No, no – he’s not obsessed, you’re obsessed. He’s not crushing on you; you’re crushing on him. He’s not chasing you; you’re chasing him. He doesn’t wanna kiss you, you wanna kiss him.

“You have such a fat crush on me.” He smirks, talking unashamedly loudly so everyone who’s passing down the columned corridor can hear.

You sigh. “No I don't, Gojo.”

“It’s Satoru to you,” he winks, “And anyways, you’re not busy this afternoon, yeah?”

“Actually I am – ”

“Great! Let’s go out.”

Your whole face spells how frustrated you are.

“Oh my god…” you sigh, getting up for your next class which was in two minutes – Gojo took up all your time. Your friends had long slipped away after he gave them a glare, snickering as they did because they thought the whole thing between you and him was hilarious.

His long legs strode next to you down the corridor.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“To class.” you replied.

“Let me walk you there.” he offered eagerly.

“Thanks, but there’s really no need.” you replied.

He looked at you like a sad puppy, so you gave in. “Oh my god, fine then.”

“Ask me nicely.”

“What!” you looked at him incredulously, “You’re the one who – oh my god never mind. Walk me to class, Gojo.”

He grinned in satisfaction. You almost wanted to smack him.

“It’s Satoru.” He corrected.

“I’m not calling you that. We’re not friends.” You said.

“Gosh, you’re breaking my heart!” he jokes, but deep down he was a little cut by that. You could tell by how he said no more smart remarks. He was silent.

You slid into your seat, watching your professor prepare the sliding whiteboards with awful scribbles of calculus. Gojo slid right next to you, settling his smart ass down a little closer than last time. He was aching to get closer to you in any way he could.

“I need a pen.” He whispered under his breath to you as soon as the lecture began.

“Seriously? Again? Where do you keep putting the ones I give you, up your ass?”

He smirked at you. Pretty blue eyes peaked over the rims of his sunglasses. You weren’t the only one to notice that he had them on indoors; the professor glanced over and immediately reprimanded him.

“Gojo, glasses off indoors, please. Don’t make me keep reminding you.” She said.

Gojo grumbled and reluctantly took them off, setting them down on the desk. You’d already began hastily scribbling notes, but all Gojo managed to do for the first ten or fifteen minutes of the lecture was drum his borrowed pen on his empty spiralbound notebook. He stole thirsted glances of you out of the corner of his eyes.

At some point his attention solely focused on you.

He observed you intently; the way you held your pen, the pace at which you write, your handwriting, how you leaned over just enough for your breasts to lightly squish against the desk.

“Hey.” He whispered to you.

You looked at him bemusedly. Ah, here he goes again. Fifteen minutes in and he has something to say to you.

“Can I copy your notes?” he asked.

“Seriously?” you whisper-shouted. The professor was so deep into her lecture about calculus that she didn’t notice Gojo starting to chat you up.

Asking to copy your notes was just his entry into flirting; what followed next was “I like your handwriting” and “so about that date…” and “there’s a party at my place this weekend…” and “wanna ditch this class together?”

“Satoru,” you said, “shut up, please.”

He shut up, not because you asked him to – he would have gone on and on despite your wishes, but you called his name. That took him aback so much so that he actually had to recompose himself and sit back, take in a breath, think for a bit. The way you pronounced his name had him in pieces.

Now came the part of the lecture where Satoru started making you laugh. You tried so hard not to, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction – but he had a good humour, you couldn’t deny a few breathy laughs here or there.

His unwavering stare was so distracting. That and the fact he kicked his feet up on the desk. He took them down when the professor turned around, and then resumed his lazy position as soon as she turned back to the whiteboard.

“Satoru,” you began, “How is it that you never take notes and still pass?”

He shrugged. “I’m a prodigy. You’re sitting next to a real genius.”

You regretted asking.

He felt bad, so he gave you a small honest answer. “I cram at night.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Would be nice to have a study buddy…” he suggested.

“No.”

“But wouldn’t it be nice? Let’s study in the library later.”

“No – ”

“Okay! I’ll meet ya there!” he smiled decisively, choosing to ignore your decline.

The class concluded, and Gojo lingered by your desk waiting for you to pack up. Some lovestruck girls always approached him at that point, and he held small talk with them. He absolutely let their compliments fuel his ego.

You tried to take advantage of the fact he was distracted by them so you could slip out of the lecture theatre unnoticed. But he had good eyes.

“Oh, gotta go. Bye.” He said hastily, eyes locked on you like you were his target. He practically tumbled down the desk levels to get to you.

Just as you disappeared beyond the door, he caught up with you, lanky body colliding with yours on ‘accident’. You thought it was deliberate, but it really was an accident – he was so clumsy around you. He threw you a lopsided, apologetic smile.

That familiar sad puppy expression developed on his features as you walked quickly down the corridor and ignored him. Inside, you were bitter about how he bathed in those girl’s attention.

He had his hands behind his back. A peculiar thing – he usually walked like he owned the place with his hands swinging like a model on a runway. You stopped abruptly in your tracks when you noticed his deflated behavior. He bumped into you again.

“Hey…”

“Sorry.” He muttered apologetically.

“… wanna get lunch together, after studying?” you offered, feeling bad for how you ignored him the whole walk to the library.

His eyes lit up. “Yeah! Yeah… uh, yes.” He almost choked. “Absolutely.”

After that, he had a pep in his step as he followed you into the library.

Studying with him was super unproductive. He kept teasing your face, pinching your cheeks and ears to get your attention and then when he had it, he started rambling about something.

Then he pulled giggles out of you. He did such goofy, stupid things.

“Look.” He said, so you looked away from your textbook.

You shook your head.

He had balanced a book on his head and bit his borrowed pen between his pearly whites.

“Don’t put my pen in your mouth! I don’t want your germs.” You said.

He grinned.

You had to admit… that was an attractive smile. The way his Addam’s apple subtly shifted. The way his eyes lit up. The way his eyes creased.

He took the book off his head and the pen out of his mouth.

“You don’t want my germs?” he pouted jokingly.

“No, no way.”

“How are we ever gonna kiss?”

“E – excuse m – what? Huh?”

Gojo giggled. He threw that in just to see your reaction.

“You sooo wanna kiss me.” He teased.

“Uh… I don’t…” you swallowed.

“You’re such a bad liar.” He said, his tone shifting into a genuinely serious one.

“I’m not lying. I’d never kiss you.” You spoke.

“Yeah?”

He brought his face closer to you. So close you could see the subtle freckles on his pale cheeks.

“What would you do if I kissed you?” Gojo asked, peering at your soul with his eyes.

You stuttered, too stunned to response. What would you do? It was a genuine question, you could tell by the tone of his voice and look in his eyes. He really wanted to know.

“I don’t know…” you responded.

“Have you thought about it at all?” he asked. A slight nervousness shook his vocals. There was the smallest of voice cracks as he said ‘thought’.

Should you have been honest? You were looking into his eyes contemplatively. Was he trying to trick you? Was he gonna get an answer out of your lips and then humiliate you with it?

You just bit the bullet and said it.

“Yeah, I guess I have.”

His eyes searched for any hints that you were kidding. You got his heart thumping, his blood rushing around so hard he felt dizzy.

It looked like he wanted to kiss you really badly, but your phone went off and ruined the moment completely. The lovey air dissolved between you and him and he wished it hadn't.

While you hastily took your phone call, you noticed out of the corner of your eyes that Gojo had a boyish blush on his face.

Reblogs n' comments help a lot!! 💗😙

Visit my library ?

[arminsumi]

Hi! If your requests are still open, could you do fluff nsfw prompt "3 — Accidentally walking in on them while they're changing" with Gojo?

👉👈 I just love the way you write him! 💖

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲

A/N: omg thank you robynn!! eheh i enjoy writing for him (clearly, i've been spamming so much gojo content lately lol) idk if i deviated a bit at the end 🙈

Wc ≈ 1k

Pairing: GOJO Satoru x f.reader

Summary: waking up in your best friend's apartment the night after his 29th birthday party and wandering into his room to find him shirtless

Warnings; 🔞mdni — n.sfw fluff!! implied drinking the night before/hangover morning, suggestive, 'sweetheart', mild nudity, kinda sexual/romantic tension, suggestive jokes

♪ 悲しきByーPlayer

You'd slept over at Satoru's last night after going out for drinks until the wee hours.

Yawning, stretching, groaning — recalling the murky events of last night as you wiped the morning tears out of your eyes and headed into the bathroom. It was a small apartment, Satoru could hear the thump of your feet on the wooden floor as you walked down the hallway.

Okay, if she's awake I'm awake. He thought, and rolled out of his futon. He smiled thinking of the night before.

All the events he could recall were drunkenly giggling down the streets of Tokyo with you tucked under his protective arm, and how the two of you tumbled into the train, and how you clung to him.

What a miracle that you two didn't have severe hangovers, considering how much sake you and Satoru had at the teahouse last night.

"Hey, mornin' birthday boy — Satoru? — Satoruuu." you knocked at his doorframe with the back of your finger.

"Mmm?" he hummed like he said come in.

He was hobbling around his room multitasking his morning routine; brushing his teeth, tugging his old shirt off, brushing his hand through his hair to get the knots out.

You slid open the door, freezing at the sight of your shirtless best friend.

"I need to borrow a shirt." you asked with forced calmness.

You managed to act unfazed, even when his pretty lashes batted at you. He had the bleariest eyes in the morning.

"In thuh closhet." Satoru mumbled through foaming toothpaste, wandering into the interconnected bathroom to finish brushing his teeth.

You blinked at the sight of his back, watching as he bent over to rinse his mouth at the sink. The subtlest flex of his back muscles made you weak in the knees. Yes, you knew he went to the gym, but it didn't fully occur to you for some reason that he was a fit boy.

With the way his hair stuck up in the back, and the way his sweatpants dangled dangerously low on his hips, your mind naturally went through a series of fantasies.

It felt like the image of his torso was burned into your mind. The soft but defined contours, the dips and curves. The little poet in the back of your mind compared him to a renaissance sculpture.

You pried your attention off of him when he glanced up at you in the mirror. Maybe it was your imagination, but you thought you saw him smirking. You even thought you felt his eyes on you, checking you out as you exchanged your rain-smelling shirt for one of his own.

Oh yeah, we got caught in the rain last night. You remembered.

Satoru came out of the bathroom. He bowed his head to avoid scraping it against the top of the doorframe. Tall boy problems.

Look who's wearing my shirt. He thought to himself smirkingly.

Trying to act natural was hard for you, but not impossible. Satoru was amused when he heard the nervous cracks in your voice.

"Satoru, put a shirt on." you scolded him because you were flustered.

"Why, does my chest make you uncomfortable? Are we really friends if you can't handle a little nudity? I thought you were comfortable around me? Huh?" he overreacted jokingly.

You mumbled something like; "... too early to deal with your nonsense..."

"Ah, c'mon, you love it when I annoy you. I know you do." he said, and lowered himself to hug you.

He tended to do that — just hug you out of nowhere. It had never happened before where he did it while shirtless, though. Now that stirred you up (and he knew it).

"Let's get some coffee." he murmured against your neck.

"Satoru!" you giggled, "What the hell!"

"What?"

"Put a damn shirt on before you hug me!" you squeaked, giving away that he had completely flustered you.

He just chuckled against your skin, then pulled away and muttered a half-hearted apology.

⁕⁕⁕

"That shirtless hug was deliberate." you complained to him over coffee. A stark morning light filled the cafe — coincidentally, you and Satoru used to visit this one when you were teenagers.

"Gosh, you're still on about that? 'Must have really stirred you up." he winked flirtatiously. You rolled your eyes. Ah, it was just like old times. You two didn't change a bit.

"It didn't stir me up at all." you denounced, taking a sip of your beverage, almost burning the tip of your tongue on it.

"I'm sure you can't get the image of my sexy body out of your mind."

You groaned, "You still talk like you did when you were seventeen. Oh, yeah, anyways — how's it feel to be thirty?"

"What the hell! I'm twenty-nine!" he whined, blue eyes looking at you. A strip of light fell across the edge of his face, very slightly illuminating his eye.

"Basically thirty." you teased.

He shook his head at you. "I'm gonna get you back for that..."

"Oh yeah? How?"

He pulled out his phone, so you looked at him very suspiciously. Satoru sipped on his coffee and batted his eyes at his phone screen.

You received a message.

"What the — DON'T SEND ME YOUR GYM PICS."

He burst out laughing like a maniac. "I need your approval!" he joked.

"I've already seen enough of Gojo Satoru's chest this morning, thank you!" you said so loudly just as the waitress came over and asked if you two wanted anything else.

Satoru slid down and laughed chokingly, showing off those pretty canines. You muttered embarrassedly to the waitress that you didn't need anything else, then proceeded to scold Satoru, which only made him laugh harder.

"Hey — hey, Y/n, sweetheart — " he tried to speak through his laughter. His cheeks were so red, it reminded you of how red they glowed when you and him got drunk last night.

"What is it, Satoru?"

"I need to send you a pic, for approval of this other thing — "

"AH HELL NO."

"HAHAHA!!" he threw his head back.

You snatched his phone right out of his hands before he could even send that. "You're ridiculous!" you scolded, and he just made this dry hiccoughing laugh.

"But we're best friends! If I can't get approval from you then — "

"How are we still best friends after what you told me last night at the teahouse!" you laughed, "Dumbass!"

"What? What did I say? Oh my god, what did I say?" he sat up, looking half-serious now. "Ah, tell me! I have to know! Did I embarrass myself?"

The waitress was coming back over with the bill for you. You saw an opportune moment, and there was a devil on your shoulder that morning.

"You told me how you've 'always wanted to fuck me since you first met me' — but of course you were so drunk, how could you remember!" you told him with a dreadfully teasing tone.

His face went so red, it matched the shade of his hoodie.

"Uh... that'll be 400 yen..." the waitress muttered awkwardly.

[ambrozjas]

I feel like two-bit is the kind of guy to be scared of spiders and then he just atarta get mad and freaks out that the spider is there and starts crying because he's mad(I feel like he would cry when hes mad😭🙏🏻)so could you maybe please do two-bit with a fem reader helping him kill the spider or being scared about it with him please

(also I love writing so much and your theme is so cute💗💗)

“f-fuck—!” two-bit said, drawing out the ‘f’ sound as his eyes widened. he hopped up onto the kitchen counter, knocking over a few bottles in the process as he let out a shrill cry.

you appeared from the hallway, eyes frantic as your head turned in every which way trying to find the threat. “what? what is it?” you screamed. all two-bit did was aggressively point at the floor, to which you squinted at it. and there you saw it. a small black spider. it looked harmless, maybe even cute, really. you bit your cheek to stop yourself from laughing when you heard your boyfriend screeching from on top of the counter for help.

“alright, alright! where are the paper towels?”

“you’ll need a flamethrower for that damn thing! there’s—there’s pro’ly more of ‘em all over this damn house!”

“yeah, ‘cause you don’t clean it, keith.” you snorted, your eyes landing on a small roll of paper towels near the kitchen sink. you sauntered over to them, making sure to go extra slow just to rile him up.

“can’t you go a little faster?! i’m dyin’ here!” he shrieked, extending his hands outwards in an exaggerated motion as his grey eyes widened to the size of saucers.

“are you fuckin’ crying?” you asked as you watched two-bit’s eyes glaze over with a sheen layer of tears.

“just get the damn spider!” he shouted, his voice cracked a bit on the ‘damn’ to which you laughed. all it took was one swift move and you scooped the small arachnid up, clenching it in your hand with the paper towel so it wouldn’t escape.

“y’done bein’ a baby, now?” you tilted your head, your free hand on your hip as you watched two-bit climb off the counter. he cringed at the sight of the paper towel and muttered incoherently as he saw you go to the bathroom to flush the spider down the toilet.

when you came back, you saw two bit pouting on the couch. once you had sat down on the arm of the sofa, you put your hand on his shoulder and asked about his worries. he simply flashed you a cheeky grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners before he asked.

“wanna get me a few more beers, pretty lady?”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ this request was so cute!!! ughhh and youre so sweet thank you sm 💕

kiss kiss ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

[ambrozjas]

hi! ur blog is so adorable. i was wondering if it wouldnt be any trouble to request any and all of ur romantic two-bit headcanons xD

two-bit romantic hc’s ꨄ︎

✧˖*°࿐ notes 🧸ᰔᩚ

two-bit is literally so underrated??? like where are all the edits and fics of him, huh???

✧˖*°࿐ warnings ᰔᩚ

mentions of alcohol and hangovers, a few curse words

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

❥ soooo let’s get started !!

❥ starting off, i feel like TWO-BIT would be a very fun lover, the type of fun where he’ll pull you out of bed at night and go drunkenly roaming around the streets of tulsa with you (being careful not get in the crossfire of any socs)

❥ would honestly fall in love with your laugh and i am very adamant about this

❥ would steal stuff for you, in the book it says how he’s known for stealing but i feel like everybody breezes past that??

❥ calls you the goofiest shit ever. like, at first before he’s gotten to know you, he’ll holler at you calling you “pretty thing”. but when you guys are actually together, he be calling you babycakes n shit 😭

❥ super annoying about saying ily. if you even MUTTER it, and he hears, he’ll be teasing you all day long trying to get you to say it again

❥ the type of guy who’ll dance out of nowhere with you. no music, no rhythm, no beat. just two people in love

❥ diner dates????? SHARING A MILKSHAKE?? DOES ANYBODY UNDERSTAND MY VISION HERE??

❥ when he takes you to meet his sister, if you love n care for her enough too?? god, he will hear wedding bells.

❥ most of the time acts like a baby when a really bad hangover hits. usually ends up with him curled over the toilet and you rubbing his back.

❥ not afraid to hit a bitch if they talk wrong bout you, he will not tolerate this “babycakes” slander

❥ cracks jokes and immediately looks to you to spot you laughing, and oh god that laugh is just like music to him

❥ does the thing where he gives you super wet kisses on your face and gets butthurt if you wipe them off

❥ pda’s an eh. he won’t full on make out with you but maybe an arm slung over your shoulder and a kiss

❥ and.. the pickup lines.. are horrible..

“you an orphanage? ‘cause i wanna give you some kids.”

“what th’fuck, keith.”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ but seriously, two-bit is like way too underrated. i barely see anything for him 💔

kiss kiss ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

[arminsumi]

reader being too tight with soft dom min

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐭

Pairing : ARMIN Arlert x f.reader

Summary : Armin making it fit with his petit gf

Warnings ; 🔞 mdni, pns (baby, good girl), dirty talk, dom.Armin x sub.reader

It's not like you didn't forewarn him about being super tight. When he was laying you down, you looked into his eyes and said;

"I'm really tight, I don't know if I can fit you."

But he just cracked a naughty smile. "Don't worry, baby. I'll make it fit." he promised.

Now as he feels you clenching around him, he grits his pearly whites, "Fuck, that's tight." he hisses, narrowing his eyes at the sloppy place where you two connect.

Embarrassment creeps over your chest and you apologize.

"Don't worry, 'm gonna stretch you out."

Armin holds to his word and pushes your legs back further. Your gummy walls hug his fat tip so tight that he pinches one eye shut.

"Fuck me." he seethes, barely sinking another inch of himself inside. "God, that's so hot the way you stretch around me..."

With soothing hands massaging your body up and down, you relax your muscles a bit.

"Oh, baby you're being so good f'me. Such a good girl." he praises, slowly fucking himself in and out so your pretty hole can get used to the big stretch.

His tip feels like a hand is squeezing it each time he plunges back in, it feels so good he almost says tells you he loves you, but instead he changes it to "God, love that pussy. So tight. So fucking tight."

A praising 'good girl' falls from his lips every time you manage to take more of his cock. He's so proud of you, even though it's barely halfway in. It takes all his self-restraint to stop from shoving himself inside.

He wants — no, he needs — to feel your plush lips engulfing the base of his cock. He needs to feel his tip bump against sweet spots that make you roll your eyes back and render you an incoherent mess.

He's plunging in and out, pressing on the back of your thighs so you can take him deeper, and murmuring against your sweaty neck.

"Uhhh — fuck — you're milking me with that tight little hole. Feel that? Yeah? Feel your pussy clinging to me? 'You don't wanna let my cock go, huh?" he chuckles sweetly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Don't hide your face, I wanna see the cute faces you make."

Each time you squeak and make a hiccoughing moan underneath his chest, he lowers himself to look you in the eye and places comforting, hot-lipped kisses to your swollen lips.

Reblogs n' comments help a lot!! 💗😙

Visit my library ?

[arminsumi]

Imagine watching fireworks with Armin and he finds out that you aren’t a huge fan of loud noises/the boom of them

(Heavily inspired based off it being the 4th of July)

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

Armin x gn!reader ♪

Content; fluff

Note; oh angel!! now the 4th of july has long passed but i didn't write this until now. i'm so sorry!! but i hope it's enjoyable anyways 🥰🎇

a great cracking boom sound goes off in the night sky, followed by a blast of exquisite colors.

you flinch and cover your ears.

armin's eyes twinkle, reflecting the firework's beauty within his irises. he turns back to look at you and notices your repulsion. "what's the matter? are you scared of fireworks?" he asks worriedly.

"i'm not scared." you furrow your brows. "it's just so loud — !!"

you pull your shoulders together and grimace in reaction to another firework blasting in the middle of the black night sky.

"it is quite loud." he chuckles softly, "c'mere, take my hand."

"where are we going?" you ask as he leads you away somewhere.

"you'll see." he says.

the two of you walk up to the tippy top of the bell tower, round and round those stairs spiral, until they reach a great height that reveals all the glimmering lights of Paradis.

"we're further away up here, it shouldn't be too loud." armin says.

just then, another boom goes off, but it's a softer, much more tolerable noise.

"woah! look! look! that's incredible!" you gasp, looking up to the sky with him at your side.

the firework display is breathtaking, you couldn't keep your eyes off of it now that you were at a more comfortable distance from the launching areas.

but as breathtaking as it was, armin's attention slipped from the dazzling sky. he kept glancing over at you, blushing and then looking away when you turned your face to him to exclaim in wonder about the fireworks.