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javiscigarette · 1 year

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Bad Fun

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Jealous Joel takes you in the bar bathroom. (Inspired by the like five jealous Joel requests that have been sitting pretty in my inbox for weeks).

Warnings: smut, established relationship, (semi) public sex, slapping, degradation, hair pulling, pretty rough (consensual!) sex, possessive Joel <3, heavy on the dirty talk and daddy kink no use of y/n

w/c: 3.4k

A/N: Answered a request? How very unlike me. Idk why but you guys were thirsty for jealous Joel but I am not complaining! Also two fics in a week? who am I turning into?

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You can feel his eyes on you, even with your back turned to him. And you can see the way the men look over your shoulder, casting anxious glances at the man who’s now giving them an icy glare.

“Well, if you ask me, I’d say you’re far too young and pretty to be hanging around with a man like that” one of them says as he casually places a hand on your midback.

You raise an eyebrow at him, but you don’t say anything about his hand on you.

“A man like what?” you ask innocently.

Almost everyone in Jackson knew about you and Joel. The two of you were practically glued at the hip, if there was one of you, then the other wasn’t far away. Joel usually had a protective arm draped your shoulders, keeping you safely tucked away under his arm. Or a hand tucked in the back pocket of your jeans as you walk the streets of Jackson together, giggling at some inside joke like you were the only two people in the world.

And most men knew that you were off limits. Most of them were smart enough not to test Joel like that, fully aware of the repercussions that come with going after his girl. But these younger men, the one’s around your age, were still ballsy enough to push the boundaries.

The man laughs, his hand slowly sliding further down your back.

“He’s just a bit old for you, isn’t he? He’s like 50, isn’t he?”

You bite your lip to hold back a laugh. You glance over your shoulder at Joel where he’s seated at a table across the room with Tommy and a few other guys from patrol. He has his front turned to you as he leans back in chair, one hand wrapped around his glass of whiskey and the other resting casually on his crotch. His eyes are dark as he watches you carefully and a small but dangerous smirk is tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“More years of experience” you quip, turning back around and taking a sip from the cocktail that one of them bought for you.

The boys laugh, and the hand on your back slides down even lower until he’s inches away from your ass. You allow it, fully aware that Joel is still watching you.

“Maybe” he says, stepping closer towards you and closing the space “But I bet I could last longer than him.”

You supress another laugh as images of Joel fucking you into the mattress for hours flashing through your head. If only they knew.

“Buy me another drink and maybe I’ll want to find out if you’re right” you say, looking at him through your lashes trying to feign innocence.

The man smirks, entire too confident in his abilities to pull someone else’s girlfriend, much less Joel Miller’s girlfriend. You giggle as he rushes to turn around and find the bartender, flagging him down and pointing to your empty glass.

These men are cute enough, boyish faces with a youthful sparkle in their eyes. Still, they’re obviously not you’re type and you’re far from being interested in slightest.

It’s not the flirting that fun, it’s what comes after.

Joel watches you for a few more minutes, his skin growing hot with jealousy as he watches the man inch his hand further and further down your back. But he doesn’t intervene. If he didn’t know any better, those men would be on the floor before they even got the chance to touch you.

But he’s not that naïve. He’s played this game with you before and he knows exactly what you want.

He downs the rest of his whiskey and sets the glass on the table before standing up and heading towards the bathroom. He crosses your line of sight on the way but doesn’t make any effort to acknowledge you.

He knows you’re watching.

“I’ll be back, you boys have fun without me” you say quickly before finishing your drink and setting the empty glass on the bar. You don’t give them a chance to respond before you’re slipping away and heading towards the bathroom.

Your entire body is vibrating with excitement as you practically run after Joel, heady desperation mixing with the alcohol in your veins. There’s only one bathroom and you only have to knock once before Joel swings the door open and yanks you inside. You giggle with excitement as he pushes you up against the door and clicks the lock in place.

With one hand on your hip, he shoves a knee between your legs so that his thick thigh presses firmly against your core.

“Such a fuckin’ slut” Joel growls. He brings his other hand up to grip your jaw, his fingertips digging in your cheeks and squeezing so hard that your mouth pops open.

“Can’t leave you alone for two goddamn seconds without you whorin’ yourself out.”

The whiskey is heavy on his breath and his eyes are dark, his pupils blown from the liquor and lust making you clench around nothing, already hopelessly turned on. His grip on your both your hip and jaw are firm and unforgiving, serving as an indicator for what’s about to go down. You know that you probably shouldn’t push him more than you already have, but you can’t resist.

“They were saying they could fuck me better.”

Joel’s jaw tightens and his scowl deepens as he narrows his eyes at you. He’s still for a beat, and you bat your eyelashes at him innocently. Then within an instant, he manhandles you over to the sink, pinning your front against the fake marble countertop with his hips. You giggle again when you feel the bulge in his jeans pressing firmly against your ass as he holds you tight against him.

He snakes an arm up the front of your body, his forearm resting heavy and warm between your breasts as he grips your jaw once again, forcing you to look straight ahead. Your gaze meets his in the mirror and a hot wave of arousal washes over you as he slips his other hand between your legs.

“Jesus fuck” he groans quietly when he feels how wet you are.

“I know what your little plan is, sweetheart” Joel murmurs as his fingers feather over your swollen, dripping seam. “Actin’ like a fuckin’ slut to get me to bend you over and make you stupid on my cock, right angel?”

You just grin smugly and back up against him. His eyes get even darker, and you can see the muscles in his jaw flexing subtly under his skin.

You nod weakly and whine at his words, a jolt of electricity shooting down your spine as try to grind down on his fingers, desperately chasing after any sort of friction. But Joel’s not having it. He moves his hand away from your jaw briefly so he can deliver a sharp smack to your cheek. It’s not hard enough to truly hurt, but it’s definitely enough to make your eyes snap open and your skin tingle for a few seconds.

“Use your words” Joel hisses, his fingers curling around your jaw once again.

“Yes, Joel.”

Another quick slap.

“And mind your fuckin’ manners.”

You whine again before correcting yourself.

“Yes, daddy”

Joel groans and rolls his hips against your ass in approval. You whimper when his hand leaves your core, but you’re quickly rewarded when he slides his two fingers, damp with your slip past your lips. You suck on them happily, satisfied with something finally in your mouth. You languidly roll your tongue around them, licking off arousal and coating them liberally with your saliva. Joel watches you through the mirror and leans in until his mouth is inches away from your ear.

“Look at that” he whispers, his warm breath fanning over your ear and jaw. “My dirty little girl, so desperate for her daddy.”

Hi cock twitches against you as he watches your eyes roll back as drool starts to leak out of the corner of your mouth, a small drop sliding down your chin. He curses under his breath and slowly removes his fingers from your mouth. You whine at the loss, but the sound quickly melts into a loud, drawn-out moan when he shoves them inside of you. He doesn’t give you any time to adjust, just starts pumping his two fingers in and out of you at a dizzying pace. He watches you in the mirror and forces you to watch too, his grip tightening on your face.

“So fuckin’ wet for me already, angel” Joel groans. “Does actin’ like a goddamn whore turn you on, baby? S’that why your little pussy is already dripping all over my fingers?

“Daddy please” you pant, already embarrassingly close to release.

He just chuckles breathlessly as you squeeze around his fingers. Another loud moan tumbles past your lips when he adds a third finger. It burns in the best way, your sensitive walls stretching out around his thick fingers.

But he suddenly stills his fingers inside of you and the pleasure starts to quickly fade. You whimper and wiggle your hips, already missing the sensation.

“Be a good slut and fuck yourself on daddy’s fingers.”

You make a garbled sound in your throat and immediately start to grind your hips back. You try to position your body to get his fingers deep like they were before, but it’s no use. Only he knows how to get that perfect angle. With a frustrated huff and no other options, you double down on your efforts. You curl your fingers over the beveled edge of the fake marble countertop and push your hips back.

The lewd squelching sounds of his fingers working your tight cunt open bounce off the walls of the small bathroom and into your ears, sending a wave of heat down your body. He groans next to your ear when you start squeezing his fingers so hard that you’re almost forcing them out.

“Greedy fuckin’ slut” Joel whispers. “You gonna cum like this?”

He’s well aware that it’s not enough. But he loves to watch you try.

“Can’t, Joel” you whine. You yelp when Joel pulls his fingers from you and delivers a sudden smack to your ass.

“What’s my fuckin’ name?” Joel hisses, squeezing your jaw even tighter. You wouldn’t be surprised if you found bruises in the shape of his fingertips in the morning.

“Daddy” you whine, high pitched and needy.

He grunts approvingly then suddenly removes his fingers. You whimper quietly at the loss and watch through the mirror moves to unbuckle his belt. He shoves his jeans down just enough to free his cock then bunches the hem of your dress around your waist.

“Tell me something, baby” Joel sighs, using both hands to spread your cheeks and exposing your burning heat to the cool room of the air. “Do you think they could fuck you better than I can?”

“No, daddy” you reply without missing a beat.

Joel hums but doesn��t say anything as he takes a half step forward, pressing his cock against your dripping seam. You moan softly at the sensation, the smooth, warm skin of his tip rubbing against your puffy clit. He starts to rock his hips, slowly dragging his cock back and forth through your folds, lubing himself up with your slick.

“Are you this fuckin’ wet for them?” he rasps, his fingertips digging into your hips.

“No, daddy” you gasp.

“Then who’s this pussy so needy for?” Joel taunts, the fat tip of his cock notching at your entrance.

You clench around nothing and ty to push your hips back against him, but the sharp spank he lands on your ass stops you.

“You daddy! Please daddy, only for you.”

“That’s right, angel” Joel praises, bringing both hands to your hips. “You’re fuckin mine.”

With that, he pushes inside and buries himself to your hilt in one fluid movement. Your knees buckle and your head falls forward, hanging between your shoulders, but the arm he wraps around your waist keeps you upright. He holds you tight in place and snaps his hips against your ass, knocking all the air out of your lungs and getting impossibly deep with each thrust. You try to bite back the loud moans but it’s a lost cause when he finds the angle where his tip kisses your cervix with every stroke.

He starts pounding into you faster and removes his arm from your waist, his hand now trailing up your back instead. He fists his hand in your hair and pulls your head up and holds you there, forcing you to look ahead in the mirror.

“You keep your eyes on me. Since you seem to have trouble rememberin’ who fuckin’ owns you”

Your eyelids flutter, but you don’t dare close them. You stare at him through the mirror, eyebrows drawn together with your mouth hanging open, strained whines and moans slipping past your lips as he continues with his brutal pace. And he just smiles down at your almost cruelly.

Joel laughs breathlessly from behind you when you let out a loud, broken moan and your cheeks heat up at the sound, knowing that there are people less than five feet away on the other side of the wall. It’s mortifying for you, but it only fuels Joel’s fire.

“M’not gonna cover your mouth, sweetheart” Joel grunts, tightening his grasp in your hair even more. “Want you to let everyone in this bar know who’s fuckin’ you this good”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head and the sounds start to freely pour out of you. The way he’s pounding relentlessly right into your g-spot causes the heat swirling in your belly to start burning hotter. Your knees are starting to buckle and your fingers scramble on top of the countertop, searching for purchase on the smooth surface as you try to keep yourself upright.

Joel isn’t any help. He just watches you carefully in the mirror as he slams into you so harshly that you’ll probably have light purple bruises on your hips from where you keep hitting the edge of the counter. And the way his cock starts pulsating inside of you when you start clenching around him drives you both crazy.

Your whole body feels on fire now with tingles spreading from your lower abdomen and up your spine to the rest of your body. You know he won’t let you finish. You’ve gotten yourself in this exact situation more than enough times to know that. And you also know how annoyingly in tune he is with your body he is, noticing every single miniscule cue you display.

So, you try to hide it. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, trying to suppress your moans and you try to take deep breaths to calm yourself down, but it’s no use when you start to shake. Joel groans then lets out a dark chuckle from behind as you tremble and reflexively clamp down around him, letting you know that yeah, of course he fucking noticed.

He leans forward while simultaneously pulling your back by your hair until his lips are brushing the shell of your ear and whispers “Bad girls don’t get to cum”

He then pulls out and takes a step back fisting his cock.

“Get on your knees” Joel commands before you even have the chance to whine at the sudden loss.

You automatically sink to your knees, leaning heavily into the sense of submission that starts to cloud your brain. He looks down at you and smirks at the captivated look on your face as you watch him steadily stroke his cock. The thing is, you can pick up on his cues too, no matter how much he tries to hide behind the façade of his dominance. You can see it in the way his heaving chest starts to flush, the dark blush spreading up his neck and to his cheeks. His breaths get quicker, fand he has a harder time keeping the whines out of his moans.

You look up at him from your spot on the floor with wet, glassy eyes and he curses under his breath at the sight.

“Open your mouth, baby.”

You obey and part your wet lips.

“Good girl” he groans, taking a step forward until he’s inches away from your face. “Daddy’s gonna cum in your mouth, babygirl. D’ya want that?”

You nod vigorously and give him a small whimper for good measure.

“Please, daddy” you whisper, sticking your tongue out.

Joel curses again and his hand on his cock starts to move faster while his free hand moves to the back of your head. Your scalp is already sore from the grasp he had on it earlier so you’re relieved when he doesn’t pull, just gently tangles his fingers in your hair to hold your head in place.

“Knew you would. You’re just a slut for daddy’s cum, aren’t you?” he teases breathlessly.

“Please daddy!” you whine again, not at all ashamed of the desperation in your voice.

Joel grunts and his wrist faulters again as he stares at your awaiting tongue. You wait as patiently as you can, subtly trying to squeeze your thighs together searching for any bit of friction you can get.

“Fuck angel you look so good like this” he groans, his hips involuntary rolling up to meet his fist. “On your knees waiting for daddy to cum like a good fuckin’ slut.”

You glow under his praise and start to say something, but Joel’s breathing starts getting heavier and his grunts and moans are getting louder and before you can say anything, he’s thrusting his hip forward to slide his tip past your lips.

You instantly wrap your lips around him and he doesn’t push in any further, just keeps the tip in your warm, awaiting mouth, his cock pulsing as he unloads rope after rope of hot cum. You try your best to keep eye contact with him, but the feeling of his hot, salty release on your tongue has your eyelids fluttering as your head starts to go dizzy and floaty.

You also try your best to keep his cum on your tongue, knowing that there was a reason that he didn’t push in all the way and fuck your throat. But it’s so much, it’s always so fucking much that you can’t stop some of it from sliding down your throat.

“That’s my good girl, My go- ah fuck baby” Joel cuts himself off with a careless moan. You can feel your slick starting to leak out of you and down your thighs at the sound.

“My good fuckin’ girl. All fuckin’ mine.”

He hisses when you dip your tongue into his oversensitive slit and reluctantly pulls out of your mouth. You press your lips together, keeping your mouth closed and look up at him expectantly. He smiles down at you, his scowl gone and replaced by a lopsided, sated smile.

Then he brings a thumb up to your bottom lip and tugs down softly and whispers “Show me.”

You comply, opening your mouth and proudly showing him the small puddle of his cum on your tongue.

“Now swallow, baby.”

You do as your told, closing your mouth and swallowing, then opening again to show him.

“Good girl” he praises gently. “So good for your daddy.”

You beam up at him, absolutely melting under his praise. He removes his hand from your hair and reaches out to help you stand up again. He straightens out your dress, making sure to “accidentally” brush his fingers through the mess between your legs.

“Now,” he starts, tugging the straps of your dress so that they sit evenly on your shoulders. “Go out there and talk to those boys again with the taste of my cum on your tongue.”

Your skin heats up and you look at him with wide, silently pleading eyes. Those men were only feet away from the bathroom door. If they didn’t see you two go in together, they definitely heard you.

And that’s exactly what Joel intended. So, he just gives you a devilish grin then pat your bum.

“Go on, sweetheart. Be a good girl. For your daddy.”

#joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #Joel miller #the last of us #tlou #pedro pascal smut #javiscigarette

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theleotarot · 10 months

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Future Spouse - What You Both Love About Each Other ♡

Choose the image you are most drawn to or resonate most with… pile 1, pile 2, pile 3, & pile 4 ✨

18+ Warning For Some

Pile 1

What your future spouse loves about you ♡ -

(Tarot cards: 5 of Wands, 9 of Pentacles, & 9 of Swords) • (3 oracle cards)

Your future spouse absolutely loves it when you playfully fight and banter with them. When you playfully argue with them, it really does make them feel so attracted to you (it can even be a turn on to them lol). I can see that sometimes they will flirtatiously tease something about you just to get some rage out of you, and when you do show some anger, they really enjoy it. It’s not a bad thing here because after all the teasing, the both of you may end up in the bedroom wrapped up together in your bed sheets haha. There are lots of playfully wrestling and tangling up with each other that they love a lot. They seem to really love it when you show your jealous side as well. They like knowing that you want them all to yourself only. Your future spouse also loves it when you literally throw yourself on them when you miss them. Like on some days, I’m seeing your future spouse coming home from work and you running up to them to give them the biggest and longest hug ever just because you’ve missed them, and they adore that clingy side of you. Also, are you the type to lightly hit people when you laugh as a habit?? If you are, they also love that. They love your playful side, and they love your aggressiveness when it comes to playful bantering and energetic side when it comes to being in bed together. 😈 They also love that you will do anything it takes to get what you want with your goals. Even if you have competitions to go against, you will put your best effort into making your dreams a reality, and they definitely love this about you.

While sometimes you may show clinginess to them, your future spouse already knows that you are independent as a person, and they love that about you. They love that you love them, but they also love that you love yourself. Everyone has times where they feel down about themselves, but at the very core, you know your own self-love and self-worth. I can see that sometimes, you will be looking at yourself through the mirror and telling them “look how pretty I look today” or “look how good my muscles look” and they will smile and tell you how amazing you are, and they love it when you just acknowledge how hot you are. They love it when you take the time to dress up and show off how good you look to the world. Your future spouse is also so proud of you. They love that you have worked so hard to accomplish all the goals you have achieved and the hard work that you have done to be where you are at. They adore that side of you that is resilient and has gained so much abundance from it! They love your confident side! Your future spouse enjoys watching you sleep and loves the way you sleep, even if you feel like you don’t look nice while sleeping! They almost seem to view you as an angel when you’re sleeping. If you’re also insecure about any dark circles or eye bags that you’ve gained from many sleepless nights, they love that about you. Any insecurities that you may have about your face, they love all of it! They also love when you wear the color red. For Women, they love it the most when you wear a red dress or even red lingerie. For men, they love it when you dress in burgundy clothing.

What you love about your future spouse ♡ -

(Tarot cards: 2 of Cups, 3 of Wands, & 8 of Swords) • (3 oracle cards)

What you love about your future spouse is their love and care towards you. You love it how they are the person who you’ve always dreamed about being with, and you love it how they are your other half. You love it that they are not the type just to give you gifts on some occasions, but they are a person who takes the time to know your love language and love you they way that you want to be loved. You are so comfortable to be yourself with them, and you appreciate that they accept and love you for the way that you are. You also love it when your future spouse emotionally opens up to you. You love it when they are lovey-dovey to you just as much as when they’re upset about something and they vent to you about it. It’s kind of like you just enjoy finally having a partner who is available to you and reciprocates everything you feel back at you. You also love it how they are a great listener and always there for you when you are going through difficulties. I can see that on some days, maybe you have some conflict with family members, and it makes you very upset, and your future spouse is able to see right through you, so they set up a nice dinner arrangement for the both of you to let you know that they are there for you. You love this romantic and selfless side of them. You love it how they understand and see you clearly. Ultimately, you love it that they just get you.

You also love it how your future spouse is extremely outgoing and willing to take on new challenges in their life. You love it that they are always trying new things like a new hobby, job, food, class, and more to spice up their life. This also includes acts in the bedroom, if you know what I’m saying lol. I’m seeing that sometimes when you both are together in bed, out of nowhere they’re like “do you want to try this new thing out? Or do you want to try that thing we’ve always been wanting to try instead?” and it just makes you feel amazed at how exploring they are because it makes you explore new things too! In addition to the bedroom acts, you also love it that they are always wanting to expand themselves in all areas of their life. No matter what given situation they are going through, they will stay optimistic about the future and are ready to keep moving. You also love it when they take you out on trips and vacations for a getaway from your busy lives. I can see that your future spouse may have either dark features or a protective look to them that you are attracted to. Maybe sometimes they feel shy about the way they look and it’s kind of cute to you, or you are attracted to them when they look closed off. It’s kind of like you love it how they have this look on them that’s dark, sexy, reserved, and avoidant, but in reality, they aren’t as dark as they portray themselves. They are actually emotional, romantic, and outgoing.

Pile 2

What your future spouse loves about you ♡ -

(Tarot cards: Justice, 8 of Cups, & The Moon) • (3 oracle cards)

Your future spouse loves how truthful you are towards them. They absolutely love it when you are open with your feelings and tell them everything you think and do. Of course, everyone has things that they keep to themselves, but I believe that you are the type of person to tell their partner nearly everything, and that’s what they appreciate about you. It’s not that they are nosy about your life, but it’s that they love it when you show that you have trust in them. For instance, if you were to have a certain habit that you are ashamed of, you will eventually open up to them about it because you believe that they should be the one that helps you through breaking the bad habit. Not only do you talk to them about serious issues, but they are the one person you always call or text when something good happens to you, and they adore seeing you excited! They also really respect the morals that you have in your life, like telling the truth, showing compassion, not hurting others’ feelings, and having respect. You also implement these morals into your relationship, and they love this so much about you. For some of you, you may even “wait” to lose your virginity until you get married, and they really respect that out of you because they see you as someone who takes things very seriously and dedicated to their beliefs. With you, they have complete trust in you, and they just know that you are their forever person. I can also see that you may enjoy watching crime documentaries or interested in the law system, and they find that intriguing about you. Your future spouse also feels that you are the good karma in their life. They have given so much love to others, and maybe before you, they always felt like no one ever returned their love back to them, but after being with you, they realized that true love does exist for them. They have finally found the balance in their life, and they love you for helping them find it.

Your future spouse loves it how you don’t live in the past and that your past experiences don’t make you a bitter person. They admire that you are able to look at your negative experiences in the eyes and turn them into life lessons. I can see that sometimes, they may do something that they think will make you mad, but it turns out to be that you are okay with it and don’t overreact to it. They might be thinking “really?! how come she/he isn’t mad?!” And it’s because you have grown so much from your past experiences. You have learned to be patient and not tolerate things that don’t serve you anymore. Your future spouse loves this about you though. It’s not that you are a person that lets them step all over you, but it’s that you do not waste your time over the little things, and you have a lot of strength in moving on from difficult situations. They also love it how you can mentally take them away from things in their life. For instance, I can see that when your future spouse is having a bad day, they come to you to relieve themselves, and they just feel at ease with you. Maybe when they’re sad or mad, you take take them out to go moon gazing or star gazing, and they deeply appreciate your kindness for caring about them. If you are a lover of watching the moon or stars, they adore that about you, since they enjoy the romance between you and them when you both are watching the sky together. Your future spouse also loves that you are always changing your appearance. Maybe you like to dye your hair a lot, and they find that attractive, or maybe you like to change your clothing style a lot, and they find that attractive too. There’s also something about your eyes that make them feel nervous, I’m seeing that you may have eyes that shine so bright to them, like literally a glistening moon. If you have a rounder face, they find it to be extremely cute as well.

What you love about your future spouse ♡ -

(Tarot cards: Knight of Pentacles, The High Priestess, & 3 of Wands) • (3 oracle cards)

You love that your future spouse is emotionally stable and that they make you feel safe and secure in your relationship. Not only are they an achiever of their work and educational goals, but they are also an achiever of making you know that you are loved by them. They may not be as expressive of how they feel, but they show you their love through their hard work and actions. For instance, they may not tell you that they love you as much as you’d like, but they will let you know that they love you by cooking you meals, massaging you, picking up your children from school, and helping you do everyday tasks so that you can just lay back and rest. It’s not that they don’t love you, but I feel like their love language is more on the acts of service side, and you really love this about them. I can see that they love to give you expensive gifts from time to time as well, and you absolutely love their giving side. You kind of like being spoiled lol. I can also see that sometimes they may teach about some sort of things that you want to learn about. For instance, if you’d like to learn more about finance, they are the person who will teach you those skills, or if you’d like to learn more about cooking, they are the person who will teach you how to improve your cooking. Basically, they have a lot of knowledge on their end, and they teach you a lot of things in life, and you appreciate their guidance. They are also a very thoughtful individual where they think about everything before they say it out loud. It’s rare for them to slip out something that is offensive to you, and you are grateful for their kindness. Ultimately, you love the maturity and stability that your future spouse gives you in your relationship. You just know that they are your soulmate and that they love you with all their heart!

You love that your future spouse is very intuitive. They believe in themselves and may be quite independent when it comes to their work life. You just find it so attractive that they have self-confidence and can flow through issues by themselves. They might also believe in astrology and tarot reading as well! You will be fascinated by this. I can hear you saying “you really believe in those too?!” Haha. You love it how they would share this common interest with you. Your future spouse is also a great listener, and you appreciate them for always hearing you out. I can see that sometimes when you’re quiet because something is wrong, they will be able to see right through you and tell you that it is okay for you to talk it out with them. You love that they are empathic, and they are always willing to listen to your problems. They may also be reluctant to starting arguments with you. They stay away from having conflict with you because they dislike it when you both are mad at each other, and they just love you that much. You also love that they are always growing their appearance. For instance, if your future spouse works out, you will notice their progress and tell them how even hotter they look! I can see that you may be attracted to their toned muscles, and they are definitely irresistible to you. You might even be jealous at times, not because you think they will cheat on you, but because they just look so good that people are prone to like and want them! (But no they won’t cheat on you). They might have different hair styles that you like too. You also love it when they dress up in business attire. It makes them look so professional yet so sexy and confident at the same time!

Pile 3

What your future spouse loves about you ♡ -

(Tarot cards: Page of Swords, 3 of Wands, & 7 of Pentacles) • (3 oracle cards)

Your future spouse loves your young energy with them. They love that you are so fun to be around and that sometimes you can be blunt with them. They take it as a compliment that you are full of joy and you are forthright because it makes them feel young at heart and fearless with you. I can see that you are very adventurous and like to go out to different places as well. Maybe you like to go out on vacations and explore places that you’ve never been to, and they just enjoy having fun by your side, while also getting to explore the world. They also really love your laughter. I’m seeing that sometimes when you crack a joke with them, you laugh at your own joke, and they end up laughing so hard with you because they just love your laugh so much haha. They also love your communication skills with them. Not only are you blunt sometimes, but you take the time to let them know about what’s going on in your life, and they really appreciate that about you. They love the conversations that you both have as well. I can see that your conversations range from you talking about your personal life problems about your family relationships and friendships to conversations about you telling them something funny that happened to you during your day. They really love hearing your voice and laughter. They also really love how you are very lighthearted and don’t take everything so seriously all the time. Even though you are young, they definitely are aware that you are intelligent and smart as well. They never take your youthfulness for granted, and instead, they love how you are so open to being yourself. In the long run, they love your youthful energy and the fun, laughter, and joy that you bring into their life.

Your future spouse loves how ambitious you are towards your goals. If you are still getting your degree, they love your grit through the process, and if you are working towards a career goal, they love the hard work that you implement to achieve it. They also love how you’re always spicing the excitement up in your relationship! I keep hearing that you are always wanting to travel with them! Whenever you and your future spouse aren’t busy, I keep hearing you say things like “hey babe! let’s go here! let’s go there!” And they’re like “really babe?!?! I just got off work!” But they say yes anyway because they love having adventure with you. They love your enthusiasm and ambition to have fun and that there is just so much excitement and sparks between the two of you. I am also getting the feeling that your future spouse loves to take you on trips often because they’d like for you to have a peaceful mind. I believe that you may go through difficult situations, and maybe this pertains to your family or friendship life. They can see through your difficulties, and they just want to see your smile all the time, so they take you on vacations for your happiness in return. Your future spouse loves all the “imperfections” about you as well. Maybe you’re someone who is always trying so hard to look “perfect” and thinks they can always do better, but in reality, your future spouse doesn’t think so. They’re already so in love with your looks, and they already think you’re so perfect! You may also have a younger look on your face, and they find that to be very attractive too. They also love your glass-like skin and love to caress their fingers on your body. 😘

What you love about your future spouse ♡ -

(Tarot cards: The Emperor, The Sun, & 4 of Cups) • (3 oracle cards)

You love that your future spouse takes the lead in your relationship. They give off more masculine energy as well, and you find this super attractive. I’m getting a vibe that you might even find it kind of sexy when they take control and lead your relationship. They might have qualities of a parental figure. Maybe you didn’t have a great parental figure in your life, so being with someone like your future spouse makes you appreciate them more. It sounds weird but it really isn’t. The gist of it is that they heal your inner child, and you find this romantic of them, yet you find it so sexy as well. You also love it how they take care of you very good. They provide food, a home, clothing, accessories, and other necessities in your life. They may not be the type to be all lovey-dovey, but they will show you how much they love you. I can see that when both of you are walking together, they always make sure that you walk on the sidewalk instead of them. I can also see that whenever you feel cold, they put a blanket over you or their jacket on you to keep you warm. You love the protection that they give you. You also love looking up to them for guidance. When you need a push to keep going with your goals, they are the person to direct you back on track, and you love this about them. You love how inspirational they can be. You also love it when they take you out to places and go traveling out. You love that they love going out on adventures with you, as well as just spending alone time with them in a place that feels like paradise.

You love the way your future spouse brings you so much positivity in your life. Whenever you feel down, they are the light in your life that makes you smile again. Whenever you talk to them, you are able to laugh with joy again. Whenever you look at them, you feel warmth again. I get a sense that you also enjoy seeing them interact with other people or animals. When you see them interacting with other people and animals, it’s like their positivity radiates off to them as well. You love it how not only you find your future spouse to be so lovable and positive, but so do many other people and even animals! You are also very impressed with how successful they are in their work field, and I get the feeling that they have done this by having excellent leadership skills. Of course, you already admire that they are a great leader in your relationship, but you also admire that they are such a great leader with others! They are so powerful, strong, sexy, and kindhearted. You also love it when they are the center of attention sometimes. It’s like, you know that your future spouse is hot, and when people drool over them, you take it as a compliment because everyone wants them, but they are only yours. You also find it very sexy when they pretend to be aloof. When they act emotionally distant from you, it makes you attracted to them even more. I’m getting Edward and Bella vibes here lol. When they turn away from you, it just makes you want to throw yourself more on them haha. I don’t know why! But it’s kind of kinky of you to be honest lol! 😝

Pile 4

What your future spouse loves about you ♡ -

(Tarot cards: The World, Knight of Cups, & 10 of Wands) • (3 oracle cards)

Your future spouse loves that you are quite the full package for them. You are everything they have been looking for in a partner. They love that you are kind, smart, wholesome, funny, mature, intelligent, and physically attractive all in one. They love that you have achieved so much in your life. You are very successful, and I do feel that they are inspired by your completion in life to reach their own goals. They also love that you have been through a lot in your life. It’s kind of like they admire you for acquiring so much knowledge. For example, you might have traveled a lot around the world, and it resulted you in learning about different cultures, and they are so amazed by this, or you might be very well-educated, and they are astonished by your brightness. You are grateful for everything that is around you and everything that you have done to accomplish your goals. You are not conceited, but you are content and proud with yourself. They love your gratitude very much. You might have grown up in an extremely different environment from them, or your cultural backgrounds are completely different, and every day that the both of you are together, you always teach them new things about life. They love that they can learn new things from you. I can also see that when they are having a conversation with you, sometimes you like to fill in their sentences and they’re like “??!! How did you know?!” And it’s because you are telepathic and know what your future spouse is thinking or will say. They find this cute and funny about you, but they also really love that you know them so well. They also love that you make them feel whole. You are the missing piece in their life that they have needed all along. I keep seeing a scenario between the both of you cuddling, and your future spouse holds and tells you “you make me feel so complete. without you, i don’t know where i’d be at. i love you so much.” There’s just so much intimacy between the two of you, and they just love everything about you and what you’ve done to make them happy. 🥺

Your future spouse absolutely loves your romance! I feel like you are very affectionate with them, and they really adore this part of you. You may be the type to give them diy (do it yourself) gifts, expensive gifts, set up surprise dates, kiss and hold them, and all the rest of the lovey-dovey things. They also love it when you hold them in bed and when you’re the big spoon haha. They love to be showered with your love and affection, and they appreciate all your efforts to be so wonderfully romantic. They also appreciate you for always making it clear that you love them. They never question if you love them or not. You may also be very affectionate with children, and they love seeing you interact with them because you are very warm-hearted when it comes to younger children. They love how you are emotionally supportive of them as well. I can see that sometimes when your future spouse is upset, you are there to support them. Sometimes, they may even want to be left alone when they are upset, and you will always respect their decision. They don’t do this because you make them angry, they do this because it is just a natural way that they cope with stressful situations. You might be the type to overwork yourself in order to look good or care too much about other people’s opinions, and your future spouse notices this about you, but they already feel like you are good enough. They appreciate your efforts to look nice, but at the same time, they feel like you don’t even need to put the effort in. They already find you very attractive.

What you love about your future spouse ♡ -

(Tarot cards: Queen of Pentacles, The Star, & Death) • (3 oracle cards)

You love that your future spouse is so nurturing and down-to-earth. They are quite literally all you want as a partner and as the father or mother of your children! I can see that they do a lot of house chores like washing and folding the laundry, doing the dishes, mopping the floors, and cooking and cleaning around the house. Not only do they help with housework, but they also provide a lot of money in your relationship. They do housework, and at the same time help pay off bills and provide necessities for you and your family. You also love that they are very loving and open towards you. You yourself are really in tuned with your emotions, and your future spouse compliments this by returning their love and having heart to heart conversations with you. You love the stability and security they give as well. You know well in your heart that they love and care for you so much, and they wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. You feel very confident that they are your person and that you will always be in each other’s hearts. You love that they are quite a bit of everything. They do chores, work, pay bills, and show you love in every way all in one. I can see that on some days when you come home from work, they will give you a nice feet or back massage, and the both of you will talk in-depth about how your days went together. You will also have a lot of cozy nights where you are both cuddled up on the couch and spend time watching your favorite movies or shows. You love that they are everything to you, and you could not ask for more. Their love for you and your love for them is just unstoppable.

You love that your future spouse gives you hope in all aspects of your life. On your lowest days, they are the one who gives you hope for the future again. I can see that on days when you feel unmotivated to get out of bed, they will talk to you about why you should get up and remind you of all the good things that can happen in your day. They are also the type to feed you breakfast in bed to start your day off as amazing! They are your light in the darkness, and you appreciate this about them because they are quite literally the only person that can pull you out of despair at times. They are also a dream come true to you. All the wishes that you have made to find someone like them has finally become reality, and each time you look at them, you fall in love more. They are your wish fulfillment, and they always remind you that dreams do come true. ❤️ You also love that your future spouse is someone in the spotlight. I believe that they might be someone well-known in their field of work, and you admire that they have so much recognition! They are very successful, and they persuade you to be the best successful version of yourself as well. You also find your future spouse to be quite sexy. They might have darker features that draw you in, and their height is also very attractive to you. I am also getting that they may have gone through a physical transformation in their appearance. Maybe, since the day that both of you met, they are always looking better and better from there on, and you love this about them. I can see that sometimes you think to yourself “damn! how can they get even better?! they’re already so sexy.” Haha. 😘

#tarot reading #love reading #future spouse reading #relationship reading #free tarot reading #oracle reading #pick a card #pick a pile #love pac #pac #tarotcommunity #daily tarot #tarotblr #tarot #oracle #fs reading <3 #pac <3

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endless-ineffabilities · 3 months

Text

backhand stroke (18+)

tennis coach!Aemond x tennis player!reader

Rivals on and off the court, things come to a head between the two when Aemond crosses the line and sabotages the reader's relationship.

themes : challengers inspired, Art Donaldson is featured <3, a lot of cussing, smut!!! (minors dn fckin i), the reader and Aemond hate each other (but if they hate each other why are they fcking), reader may or may not be a cheating bastard, Aemond has a glass eye + he calls the reader ace

a/n : initially I was about to write a fic where Aemond and the reader are actual rivals themselves, but quickly remembered how tennis works 💀 so in this one, Aemond is a coach and reader is a player 🎾

word count : 8k ▪︎ masterlist

The Westeros Open is the biggest and most prestigious tennis tournament in the country.

Anyone who wants to be someone in the sport aims to qualify for it.

For you, it is everything. You have devoted your entire life to tennis. It started as something that stemmed from your parents' neglect. Rich folks who signed their young daughter up for extensive tennis lessons just so they can be free of her and galivant off to wherever.

You had sat there, staring at your shiny, brand-new white tennis shoes. Holding your unused top-of-the-line racket. Hair kept away from your face with a headband that still smelled like the store.

Mostly left alone by your family, you gathered your strength, and dragged your weak eight-year-old legs across the tennis court day in and day out.

Through the years, you found yourself. You found home, and you gave everything you had to make sure you would never lose it.

As luck would have it, you found romance along the way in Art Donaldson, who became your coach after your previous one decided to quit. He used to be a player, until he fell out of love with the game, and chose to coach up and coming players instead.

You had been wary of getting involved with him, but eventually you couldn’t resist. He turned out to be the perfect boyfriend - caring, sweet, attentive to your every need. He became your partner in both tennis and in life. Truly, you couldn’t want for anything else.

You shouldn’t.

So why does it feel like there is something missing?

And why is that void one that only Aemond Targaryen can fill?

The gigantic poster propped up in the inner courtyard of the country club lets everyone know that your next qualifying match in the Westeros Open is against none other than Helaena Targaryen.

Your image looms up to around twenty feet, with Helaena’s lithe figure on the other side. The perfectionist in you can’t help but scrutinise the details in your expression and your form. Was that really what you looked like mid-serve? You laugh dryly, feeling silly at your misdirected concern.

You like Helaena, and she’s always been cordial to you outside of your matches. The issue lies with her more brash and calculating brother and coach.

Something - or rather someone - shuffles behind you. Close enough that the hairs on the back of your neck stand on attention.

"I wish I could say that you look good up there, but we did once promise not to lie to each other.”

Think of the devil and he shall appear. You don't have to turn around to know who it is.

Aemond fucking Targaryen. Once at his prime, known for his freely expressing his passion and rage on the court, earning him the title 'the bad boy of tennis'. It was this drive, this relentlessness, that propelled his game. Unfortunately, it also served to be his downfall. After a few years as the sport's #1 male player, his career came to an end after an off-court altercation with an opponent that took his eye.

Now he is the coach of one of your top rivals and upcoming match opponent, his sister Helaena.

Which is why it should come as no surprise to you that he has made it his mission to get under your skin, with all his unwarranted flirty remarks, constant staring, and how he tirelessly interacts with everything you post on social media.

It used to be tame, by his standards anyway, with things like, ‘You need to work on that backhand’ or ‘I’m guessing Donaldson doesn’t train you well enough.’

But then the messages took a different turn. You once posted a picture of you in a fancy, revealing gown when you attended the annual gala, and he responded with, ‘It’s easy to see that all your training has paid off, ace.’

You chocked it all up to playful aggression. He’s just trying to get you to lower your guard, and distract you. You knew better than to look too much into the apparent interest he gives you.

He is notorious for being a playboy, after all. Dirty blonde hair perfectly tousled, designer tracksuits he wears with such snobbishness, a presence that can command an entire room. You’ve grown to heavily dislike the seemingly permanent smug sneer on his lips, and how he sometimes treats others like they’re nothing but gum stuck on the soles of his fancy tennis shoes.

A handsome rogue who possesses a lot of talent and who is aware of his status as a hot commodity can be dangerous indeed. If he can say that Helaena Targaryen’s best opponent is nothing but another notch on his bedpost, then he will never let that live down.

More importantly, you are already spoken for. Aemond knows this - not that he cares - but whatever he thinks about your relationship doesn’t matter.

“Aemond.” You don’t turn to face him, continuing to scrutinise the gigantic poster. “Is that the best you got?”

He shrugs, positioning himself right in your line of sight, clearly demanding more attention. “You don’t just look good. You look good enough to fucking eat, ace. Too bad about the shitty attitude.”

Hot then cold, nice then nasty. Aemond will never change. Rolling your eyes, you say, “I thought I told you not to call me that. Shouldn’t you be somewhere else training your sister? She’s gonna need it.”

He steps closer, invading your space. You look him directly in the eye like you’re squaring up with an opponent. This has always been your dynamic. Neither one backing down, neither one ever really dealing a blow.

Just constant dizzying electricity.

Sooner or later, it will all come to a head. Whether it will be your fault or his, the jury is still out on that.

“Oh, I’m sure she will,” he patronises, his deep blue almost violet eye sparkling. On the opposite was his glass eye, only adding to his intimidating nature. He hadn’t opted for one that resembled his real eye, but rather a hazy white apparatus, making him appear ghoulish, almost ghostlike. Nestled in his left eye socket, framed by a faded maroon gash, it made him look every bit like the charismatic rogue of tennis that he is known to be. “Shouldn’t you be somewhere receiving instruction from Donaldson? Not that you’ll get much out of it.”

“Art and I are on top of our training, not that it’s any of your damn business. You should concern yourself with your sister’s game.”

“If only that were actually true, ace, but unfortunately I believe that your sweet Art wastes too much of his fucking time being on top of you.”

“Fuck off, Targaryen,” you respond, trying to push the allure of his scent out of your mind. Pungent cologne and cigarette smoke, a blend that you’ve come to associate only with him. “Stay out of my business, and quit messaging me.”

“You like how we talk.”

“Trust me, I don’t.”

“Does Donaldson know?” Fully aware that Art has never had a liking for him, he knows that will hit a nerve.

Your face falls, like you’ve been caught in the act. Even though you've done nothing wrong. Occasionally caving in and responding to Aemond’s messages surely isn’t crossing the line. What started out as a couple of offhand fuck offs from your end turned into actually sharing private jokes about the other matches and training and - heavens forbid - small talk about the goddamn weather.

You’ve come to know that his favourite colour is green. Not the neon of a tennis ball, but a bluish-tinted pine.

Not that it matters.

Encounters such as this one also don’t mean anything. Never mind however much you find him attractive. Who wouldn’t? You have eyes, and you’re only human. Nothing more to it.

Never mind how, some nights, in what can only be construed as momentary states of delirium, you have imagined him in Art’s place.

Never mind just how much he gets under your skin, like no one else can, and how you can’t admit to yourself that you might actually like it.

Oh, you might actually be making yourself sick at all these thoughts.

“There’s nothing for him to know.” You step to the side, indicating that you want to walk away. But he has you cornered and you both know it.

He smirks, “Keep telling yourself that, ace. But you can’t deny - ” He steps close again. He suddenly tilts your face toward him with one hand, but you shake your head and his fingers lose their hold. “ - this. Us.”

Damn him. And damn the shiver that just ran up your spine.

You stand still, entranced by the look he’s giving you. Trick or not, Aemond sure does have a way of looking at you as if he sees you for who you really are. Not the tennis prodigy. Not the public personality. You remain a shell of that broken kid that poured everything she had into this sport, much like he had, only to come out the other end still not whole, still searching for something inexplicably out of reach. And he sees just that - just you.

You feel like Art holds you up on a pedestal, not seeing the flaws that make you who you are. But you’ve always been happy to play the perfect girlfriend.

Until Aemond.

But he’s too much. Too forward, too brash, too intoxicating. You can never know what he’s going to do next. You can’t like him. You have to be certain that you don’t.

But then again… love and hate have always been two sides of the same coin.

He whispers, clearly pleased with the effect he has on you, “Match point, ace.”

Match point. You could have him. He could have you. He makes it evident that the next move is all yours. “Don’t go out of bounds, Targaryen,” you warn him lowly.

“What if I want to?”

You have him. He has you.

And you… have Art.

Clearing your throat, and your head, you finally step back. His head snaps up to follow you, disappointment evident on his face.

“See you around, Targaryen.” You spin on your heel, walking away, immediately feeling lighter. Emptier, feeling like your body begs to drift closer to him, two equal magnets.

“Ace,” he calls to you, walking after you when you don’t turn around. “Wait a second,” he reappears right in front of you, effectively halting your stride.

You grumble hastily, “God, you really have a space issue, don’t you, Aemond?”

“Meet me in the courtyard gardens,” he says, a new intensity lacing his voice, “tonight. After dinner. Or whenever you can. Just - ”

“No.”

“Come on, ace.” His tone is insistent, with no trace of his usual bravado and cockiness. “I think… I need to tell you something.”

Part of you wants to cave in, and just agree to whatever it is that he’s proposing, but that nagging voice in the back of your mind is adamant that it would not be right. What would Art think? But what if Aemond truly just wants to tell you something?

“So tell me now.”

His jaw clenches hard, and you can’t help but admire the taut edges of his face. “No, I want to do this, just you and me. When we’ll be alone - ”

“Aemond - ” you start to shake your head, trying hard to come up with a refusal that he will actually register.

“Donaldson doesn’t need to know,” he almost pleads. “This is between you and me, ace. You just have to hear me out.”

You take a deep breath, unable to understand just what it is he means. “If it’s something I have to hide from my boyfriend, then it’s not gonna happen. You have to see just how messed up that is, Targaryen.”

Either he can’t hear you, or he just does not want to accept your response. “I’ll wait for you. Right around midnight then, ace? Should give you plenty of time to sneak out.”

Before you can say no, again, he hastily plants a kiss on your cheek. Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation, in surprise and perhaps pleasure at the softness of his lips, and when you open them once more, he is no longer flooding your space.

You spy him entering a set of glass doors, leaving you there stunned.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Aemond kicks at another pebble, the sound momentarily breaking the silence in the gardens.

He’d checked his watch just seconds before, the face of it spitting on what remains of his eagerness.

Twelve fucking fifteen.

Either you just got held up by your whiney rat-faced boyfriend, or you’re a no-show.

Aemond doesn’t know which one is worse. He did not know what he was expecting in the first place. Did he actually think that you would do as he says? You never were good at following orders, much less those from someone whom you likely view as something of a nuisance.

Is that really what you see him as? Isn’t there something more at play here?

Something that keeps Aemond up at night, when he can no longer deny that it is not because he dislikes you that you plague his thoughts, but because he admires you. He does admire you, he sees no shame in admitting that.

As a tennis player. As a competitor. Anyone who feigns ignorance at your insane potential would just be lying to themselves.

As a woman? A… partner? No. It has to be no, doesn’t it? You hate him, you make it clear now and again. You disagree with him, challenge his views, point out his flaws. Surely, he can’t be attracted to you in a way that commands his heart. You are beautiful, he doesn’t deny this, but so were the dozens of other girls he had run through.

Each time he watches you perform your signature backhand stroke, with that sensual growl escaping your lips and the lewd grace with which your body bends, Aemond feels his sanity slipping away.

You drive him crazy, but he can't be crazy about you.

The only reason he asked you to meet him, is because he wants to propose that he replace Art as your coach. Helaena has expressed that she wants to retire, and focus on some other creative pursuits. Something insignificant to Aemond, that he can’t remember what it was exactly. A pottery business? A fucking flower shop? He doesn’t care to know.

It’s perfect, he thinks, because your game is superior anyway. It’s what first got his attention, and now he can take part in your process. He can direct you, shape you. He can do so much better than Art Donaldson, and he’s sure you know this too.

Maybe then you might actually open up to him the way you opened up to Art. With your absence tonight, it dawns on him that he might actually have to resort to other measures. Did he seriously think he would be able to simply reason with you about this?

He sits for another half-hour on a bench nestled among the rose bushes. Surrounded by flowers of deep scarlet, a maroon he distinctly remembers as being your favourite colour. He fools himself into believing that he’s using the time to craft a plan for what’s to come, and not that he’s wasting it on the hope that you might emerge from the tall hedges, out of breath and eyes glinting eager to find him.

Well, you played your hand. Now he knows what he has to do.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

You wake up groggy the following morning, having tossed and turned the entire night, thinking about Aemond.

Had he been out there, waiting for you? Your mind came up with the different possibilities of what he has to say. Or if he had nothing to say at all, and it was all just another ruse.

You told yourself that you didn’t want to meet up with him, but you had an alibi prepared. One of your old tennis club mates agreed to cover for you and say that you were having drinks together, just in case Art ever checks up.

But as you were about to deliver the excuse, Art had said something about you and him not getting to spend as much quality time anymore. The past few weeks have been occupied with nothing but tennis, and though it’s a shared activity that you both value, he wanted to stay in for the night with you. He ordered room service, downloaded two films that were on your watchlist, and whispered sweet nothings in your ear until you eventually gave up on meeting Aemond.

It can wait, whatever it is.

Besides, isn’t this the right thing to do? Did you seriously consider having a midnight rendezvous with the guy who you claim to dislike the most? Someone who encourages you to keep secrets from your boyfriend? What good could possibly come out of that?

With a heaving sigh, you push all thoughts of last night from your mind. There are bigger things at hand. The biggest tennis tournament of the year, for one.

You make your way to the dining hall of your hotel. Art had woken up before you, pressing a loving kiss to your cheek and explaining how he had to discuss some matters with your physical team. He wore the skin of a tennis coach as perfectly as that of a boyfriend.

And here you are, regretting that you were unable to meet up with another man the previous night.

The art deco layout of the lobby extends into the spacious dining hall, the interior of the hotel filled with geometric patterns and rich jewel tones. You once bid Aemond guess what your favourite interior design was, and he got it in two tries, complete with a spiel of how it reflects your personality. Art, on the other hand, had been adamant that your favourite was minimalist. That was the first time you realised that his perspective of you was different from Aemond’s.

You hadn’t yet reconciled with who is more accurate, lest it shine a light on something deeper.

The hostess is cheerful and full of pep as she leads you to your table. You know it’s coming - she’ll ask you for a picture in just a moment, and you’re proven right when she reaches in her pocket and her phone materialises inch by inch. She seems shy to ask, ready to turn on her heel with a stiff smile if you refuse, so you do your best to be encouraging.

When the photo is taken and she finally lowers her phone, you spy someone out in the distance and you make it out to be none other than your boyfriend. Leaning by the outdoor terrace, appearing to be speaking to another person you can’t yet make out, their face obscured by the decorative shrubbery scattered across the area.

You walk to the side to get a better view of who it is. That tall figure, clad in a black tracksuit… a familiar head of blonde hair… and the unmistakable cut of his jawline. Realisation sets in. Art is speaking to Aemond.

Your stomach sinks, the thought of breakfast no longer enticing. Frozen in the middle of the dining hall, you begin to attract the attention of others.

Aemond turns his head, perfectly timed for his gaze to meet yours. Like something out of a grim movie, your anxiety spikes as his smug smirk materialises in slow motion.

If there ever were a match at hand between you two, that smirk makes it clear that he has won it.

Art follows his gaze, also meeting yours, but without any trace of satisfaction. He looks at you accusingly. You shake your head at him, but you already know.

This is not going to end well.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

“Is it true?”

You had wordlessly followed Art back to your hotel suite, the air around you thick with dread and anticipation.

“What did Aemond say?” You stand in front of him as he calmly sits by the window, as if you’re on the trial stand. You just might be.

“Guess,” Art spits mockingly. “Why don’t you tell me? You seem to know him quite well.” You bristle at his tone. He’s never spoken to you like this before.

“Whatever he told you, it’s not what it looks like, okay? You know Aemond. He likes to mess around with people, especially us.”

Art shakes his head in disbelief, “He even showed me some of your messages. Some of them you must have sent - what, at 3 or 4 in the fucking morning? When you’re lying next to me in bed? Not getting a lot of sleep apparently. It must be why you’re not on top of your game.”

He’s not playing fair, and you deserve this.

“There’s nothing going on between us,” you say through gritted teeth, making the statement sound as firm as possible, because it’s not just Art you’re attempting to convince. You want to believe it too.

“He’s said some things about me.”

“And I defended you.”

“Not well enough,” he shakes his head. “It sounded almost normal for you. Spewing bullshit to each other.”

“It’s just… it’s all just banter.” God, you sound so terrible. “Riling each other up to get into the mindset before matches.”

“All that… all that, I can kind of understand. It’s the other things. The intimate things that get on my nerves.”

“What - ” You can’t form the proper response to that.

“I missed talking to you, he once said. To which you replied that you do too.”

“That’s nothing.”

“You said that he inspired you.”

“That’s… that… he’s a great talent,” you stammer, as the statements he throws worsen. “He always has been. Even you can’t deny that.”

The argument goes on for an uncomfortable length of time, with Art reminding you of things that you and Aemond had apparently messaged each other, and you trying to play them off as insignificant.

Gradually, you convince Art that Aemond is just a thorn in your side. That Aemond was just overplaying the messages to get under his skin. That letting this break your relationship would be giving Aemond what he wants.

But everything he said - the messages he brought back to the surface, the encounters that were brought up - made you realise the depth of your involvement with Aemond.

You are fooling yourself, just as much as you are fooling Art.

He finally stands, heading towards the door. “I’ve spoken to our physical team. Meet us at the gym in 15.”

“Art.”

He halts, but he doesn’t turn to face you. You’re worried about what you’ll see in his face if he does.

“Are we okay?” you ask.

He turns to the side, and you catch a glimpse of the man you love, his once blithe demeanour reduced to a brief, forced smile. He nods once, and you sag in relief. When he is finally out the door, you collapse onto the bed and press your knuckles to your eyes.

You feel it all at once.

Anger. Frustration. That fear of inevitability coming to fruition. This was bound to happen and a part of you knew it was coming.

Aemond screwed you over, and it’s high time you put an end to everything.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The gardens. Midnight.

The message had been sent. The last one you will ever send to Aemond Targaryen if things go as planned.

You have it rehearsed and perfected in your mind - how you will give him a piece of your mind, how you will tell him off and tell him to fuck off for good.

As long as you think of Art… As long as you don’t lose yourself, then…

“You’re lucky I’m not standing you up, Ace. Not like what you did to me.” The bastard has appeared directly behind you, as per his custom, so close you can feel his breath on the nape of your neck.

You immediately turn to face him, and he stands calmly in his signature black tracksuit, his lips curled in their usual manner. “I never agreed to meet you that night.”

His smile is derisive, the sight of it sharp and cruel under the moonlight. “I thought we had sort of a code of honour, you and I. That we’d never lie to each other. Never let the other person down.”

“Honour?” you say mockingly. “I call bullshit. Trying to ruin my relationship… is that part of it?”

He looks away, shaking his head at your accusation. “I only did what you don’t have the fucking guts to do. Your relationship with Donaldson was ruined the moment we…” He trails off, brows furrowing. His gaze meets yours, revealing the truth that sits underneath his mask of arrogance. One that only you are allowed to see. He appears to take on a different smile this time, softer and less pronounced. The curses you want to hurl get caught in your throat when he looks to your lips and hums faintly to himself, almost as if he’s forgotten that you are in the middle of an argument.

You take a step back, and it shakes him out of his reverie. It shakes the both of you out of it.

“Well? Let’s fucking hear it then.” You raise your arms in a gesture, egging him on.

“Hear what?” he says, having the gall to be confused.

“What did you want to tell me that night? Tell me now, because you’ll never get the chance again.”

He straightens, getting his thoughts in order. He completely forgot about that issue, and talking is increasingly becoming the last thing he wants to do right now. He wants to put his lips to better use. Something more worthwhile. “Helaena’s retiring,” he finally decides on saying, “and I think I should be your coach.”

You’re dumbfounded for a moment, his proposition whirring in your head. It makes sense, it does. He just gets you. But then again…

“That’s rich,” you reply. “Do you think I would ever give up Art? He’s always been my coach and he’s damn good at it.”

“You’re not compatible,” he counters, “in the court and out of it.”

“You don’t know that.”

“He doesn’t see you,” he affirms. He would never lie to you, and he isn’t about to start now. He repeats, “He doesn’t see you, but I do.”

His words strike true, and it feels as if he’s just pulled the rug from underneath you, and you’re falling, falling…

Right into his arms. And the impact is jarring, because it’s real.

“We can’t.” It comes out as a hoarse whisper, a reflection of your weakening restraint.

“Yes we can, ace.” He takes a step closer, and he lifts his hand as if on instinct, reaching for your face. But he’s frozen, unsure of how far he can toe the line that already lies fragile between you. “It should be you and me.”

Your eyes follow his movements, because you know you want him to give in and hold you. To touch your face. To kiss you.

And it’s wrong. It’s all wrong.

“I have to go.” Your voice carries no emotion. You avert your gaze at the last second and catch the defeat that flashes across his face. It should come as a surprise that it pains you to see him like this, but then again, you see him as he sees you. You always have. Which renders your next words among the most painful to come out of your mouth. “We can’t do this anymore. Art already doesn’t trust me, and if this goes on, it’s only going to make things worse. I can’t talk to you - ”

“No.”

“- and I won’t be responding to anything- ”

“Stop fucking talking.” His anger is fledgling, rising to the surface. There is no way he will calmly accept these terms. “I said no, ace.”

“It’s… it’s the right thing to do,” you murmur, still unable to look at him. “I’m sure I’ll see you around. We run in the same circles. But we can’t be… us.”

“Forget it,” he seethes, trying to catch your eyes, and growling low when you don’t relent. “Forget him, ace. Or do whatever the fuck you want. But not this, I’m not having this.”

You exhale, having gotten the worst of it out of your chest. It’s over now. But it’s not a relief that you feel. It’s remorse.

“Goodbye, Aemond.” With that, you finally take him in once more, and one glance is enough to shatter your resolve. His heightened ill temper shines clearly across his distinguished features. Under the midnight moon, he resembles a fallen angel, long dark blonde lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones. His shadowy, glass eye strangely adding to the appeal.

Beautiful. And just not yours.

One last, lingering look - then you walk away. The silence is deafening, and you feel numb all over. Your knuckles are taut at your sides, fingernails digging in your palms to keep those pesky, errant tears at bay. You’ve suffered defeat before, but this is much worse, because it’s coming solely from your own hand. How easily you give him up, someone who was never yours, and how badly it stings.

“No,” you hear him say again, and you pray he shuts up so you can keep walking.

He doesn’t. He repeats the word - no - over and over like some mantra under his breath. One second you feel nothing. Nothing at all. But then the wind whooshes around you and you’re being spun around to face him.

And then, his lips claim yours, and you feel everything.

Sounds come rushing back to you. His ragged panting against your lips, the pads of his fingertips kneading the back of your head, the wet smacking of his mouth on your own. The empty pit in your stomach is filled with those clichéd butterflies. More so when one of his hands travels down to grasp your waist and press your body against his.

“Aem - ” Your mind catches up to you, and you try to say his name to get him to pause, but he slides his tongue past your teeth.

“Shut up and kiss me, ace.” He breaks free for but a second, then hungrily kisses you again. You let him. You give in completely.

“Mmm, Aemond.” Your hands reach up to cradle his face and he takes that as an opportunity to pull back and openly admire you.

“You’re my ace,” he professes, connecting his forehead to yours. “And I’m not fucking losing you.”

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

You rush through the lobby of the hotel, hand in hand and giggling like schoolchildren as you duck your heads so as not to get recognised by the night concierge.

With reckless abandon, your entwined bodies stumble into his suite, which just happens to be on the floor below yours. You once thought you would have to be inebriated beyond belief to surrender to a sin like this, and in a way you are. You’re high off of him - Aemond in his entirety, six feet of lean muscle, notorious foul-mouthed one-eyed libertine.

“Fuck, ace.” He has his arms wrapped around you from behind, and he nips at your exposed neck. His touch roams and finds the mounds of your breasts, kneading mindlessly over your shirt. The sound that reverberates from his throat is carnal, and you feel it echo through your whole body. It drives you to press your ass against him, taking full notice of his hardness straining from his sweatpants.

Feeling mischievous, you do it again, gripping his arms to anchor yourself while grinding against his cock.

“Foul play,” he whispers against your neck, “you fucking minx.”

“There are no rules now.” You face him, running a finger along his jawline as you walk backward and he follows suit. Stopping at the edge of his bed, you strip out of your shirt, careful to keep your eyes locked on his the whole time.

The movement is too slow for Aemond, and he desperately needs more. He pushes you onto the mattress and climbs on top of you. He slides your sweatpants off your legs, then lets his hand drag from your ankle to your inner thigh. He promptly undresses, graceless and in a rush, until all his clothes are left in a heap on the carpet.

His cock stands on attention, taut and goddamn long. You feel an ache below that compels you to rub your legs together, but he beats you to it and slides your underwear right off. “I’ve always wanted to taste you,” he croons. “Bet you taste so sweet.”

You take your bra off and you’re finally left completely bare. He spreads your legs and positions himself in between. He uses one hand to squeeze your breast and the other to keep your legs propped wide open.

His eye meets yours, before he settles in, lowering his head until he’s breathing cool air onto your pussy. “Match point, ace.”

You have him. He has you.

When Aemond’s tongue plunges deep into your throbbing core, swirling inside like he wants to consume you whole, you have to bite your tongue to hold back a scream.

He knows what he’s doing, of course he does, and he’s so fucking good.

“Yes - yes - keep going, baby, fuck - ” you moan, words breathy and irregular.

He sticks two fingers into your wetness, using it to spread you wider, leveraging his tongue ever deeper. In and out they go, faster than the fuck, fuck, fucks coming out of your mouth in blissful sputters.

He suddenly stops, a guttural hmm echoing from his lips, and you look down to see his lips coated in a mixture of his spit and your pre cum. “Not so fast, ace,” he taunts. “You’ll come when I say.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows, still widespread and exposed to him. “What, are you coaching me through it?”

He hums in affirmative and leans in to kiss you, juices still dripping from his chin.

“You gonna follow my orders, ace?” he asks, and your mind spirals at how utterly lewd it sounds.

“Wouldn’t you like that, Targaryen?” You let out another moan, biting your lip when he hungrily sucks on your breast. “Let’s see what you got first.”

He smiles at your playful instigation. It’s always come natural, this riffing back and forth. But this midnight dalliance - he wants it to be honest. He needs you to realise how much he wants you.

“Yes, ma’am.” He gets on his knees, a hand braced on each of your thighs, his hardened cock at the ready.

“Ma’am?” you breathe, a laugh dying in your throat when you his tip prods at your entrance.

“I can be agreeable under the right circumstances, ace.” He torments you by pushing his cock in but an inch.

“Fuck me, Aemond,” you cuss in frustration, then, literally, “Fuck me. Please.”

His eyes take you in, one darkened blue and one ghostly pale glass. “Well, since you asked so nicely,” he says. “You good for it, ace?” He nods once, referring to whether a condom is needed and you take the hint right away.

“Yeah,” you confirm. “Perks of having a top-of-the-line physio team. They hook you up on other things too.” Your cocky-athlete way of stating that you are on the pill.

The lights are dim in the room, but you clearly see the resolve settle on Aemond’s face. He parts his lips like he wants to say something more, and you tilt your head questioningly.

He feels the need to make some sort of declaration. Something true. It doesn’t seem right to say those damned three words at this moment, no matter how much he means them. You could think he’s trying to trick you in order to get what he wants. A good lay and nothing else. So he doesn’t say anything and lets the silence speak for itself. If you know him as you claim to, then you’ll see.

You’ll see just how much this means to him.

You nod, and it’s an unspoken plea.

He thrusts his cock into you with such force, stretching your walls with a sudden and blinding ache, until he is buried to the hilt. He reaches and cradles your face with one hand, the other keeping your ankle propped by his shoulder.

“Move, Aem.” You buck your hips against him, his cock squelching in and out again.

“Yeah, baby?” He complies with his hips in response. “That feel good?”

“Yes. God yes.”

A switch flicks inside of him, and he almost snarls through his teeth. “You feel so fucking good, ace. Your pussy takin’ me so well…” His hips buck faster, in abrupt snapping motions, burying his cock each damn time. He connects your legs together and turns you to your side, altering the position slightly.

You look behind your shoulder and see that feral look etched on his face. His grip is tight on the flesh of your hips and the curve of your ass, having it raised slightly for his convenience. He smacks your behind with an open palm, and it elicits a lusty moan out of you.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps. “So beautiful like this, dripping around my fucking cock, huh? My good girl.”

The noises you release as a result are unintelligible. You press your face against the pillow in sheer pleasure, muffling your sounds.

“I wanna hear you, baby,” Aemond protests. With practised ease, he repositions you so your ass is propped high before him, your body bent forward as you have to lean on your forearms to keep from planting your face on the sheets.

He doesn’t ease up on his relentless thrusting, and you’re left squirming and cock-drunk. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head, you’re blissed-out on what only Aemond can give you.

“Does he fuck you as good?” he spits in obvious distaste. “I don’t think so, baby. Can’t fuck this pussy like I do.”

“N-no,” you whimper, without any trace of guilt. “Only you, Aem.”

“Hmm,” he simpers. “Come for me, ace. Be a good girl now. Come around my cock, yeah?”

“Mhhmm,” you pant, growing weaker and weaker at his statements, your walls tensing for that release you crave.

“You’re mine, ace. Mine.”

Your whimper comes out sudden and unrestrained as you let go, and feel your warm juices leaking down your thighs. The sounds of his cock growing noisy and sloppier. He releases not long after, with a few sharp spasms, decorating your insides with his cum.

Marking someone who is not supposed to be his.

But nothing else matters as he crumples against you and pulls you into his arms. If something is to be reconciled with, it won’t be for tonight.

With these things, regret always comes along with the sunrise.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

“40 - 30.”

The crowd cheers at the umpire’s announcement. You can barely make out the faces morphing together into one homogeneous mob, but you’ve observed enough to know that Aemond isn’t among them. Rivulets of sweat drip down your face and you walk to the side as another break starts.

Helaena nods at you from the opposite side of the court, and you respond with a terse smile.

She resembles him so much - the one you’ve been avoiding for the past three days. With that same distinct shade of blonde hair and deep blue eyes, but possessing an aura of tenderness about her. If Aemond wasn’t lying about her plan to retire, then it makes perfect sense. She seems too good for the sport, too pure, whereas you fit right into its cruel constraints.

What sort of person would have done what you did, some nights ago, and be able to walk with their head held high? You want to believe that you regret sleeping with Aemond, that you would reverse your actions, given the chance. But the pain that eats at you is that you might have fucked things up for good, abruptly leaving before he woke up that morning.

It’s ironic - you may just get what you said you wanted. To end things. Never to be the same with him again.

You slump in your seat, wiping at your face with a towel, pushing all thought of Aemond from your mind.

From your periphery, you catch Helaena gesturing to you. She smiles, and you think that your emotions must show so clearly on your face that she feels bad for you.

She nods, and tilts her head to the side, so that you follow her gaze. Standing courtside, partially hidden in the corner just behind the barriers, you see Aemond closely watching you.

He came after all. You turn back to Helaena, unable to hide your surprise, and she sends another smile your way. She knows. Of course she does.

With renewed excitement, the match continues. It only takes one more point, one final ace, and you emerge triumphant. The court fills with cheers and sounds of celebration. It is declared that you are advancing to the next round of the tournament. You meet Helaena in the middle and she firmly shakes your hand, exhibiting no sign of disappointment.

“Congratulations! Very well played.” She drops her racket and grasps your hand with both of hers. She leans closer, and adds, “You know, I also consider it a win for myself, because my last ever match is against the girl my brother is in love with.”

You forget where you are, the revelation rendering everything else moot. The cheering crowds disappear, and it’s just you and Helaena as she dips her head comfortingly, assuring you that you heard her words true.

“I’m sure I’ll see you soon,” she lets go finally, with a cheerful, “go celebrate!”

You feel yourself being whisked away, cameras flashing from all sides. Art appears in front of you and he pulls you into an embrace. Several onlookers gush at the sight. You barely take notice of them, your eyes already drifting to where Aemond was standing.

There he remains, casually leaning against the barriers. Some audience members realise that the great Aemond Targaryen stands among them, and one by one a small crowd forms around him, asking for pictures and autographs.

He continues to hold your gaze, his usual smirk making an appearance, ignoring a guy waving a camera at his face. You shake your head at the scene, a genuine laugh bubbling from your lips.

You nod to each other, as if acknowledging the absurdity of it all, and leave it at that. There’s a lot more to be said, for another time. Art wraps his arm around your waist, and Aemond takes it as his cue to look away, relenting to the eager fans surrounding him.

You direct your gaze to your boyfriend, immediately seeing the recognition in Art’s eyes. He’s seen everything.

He doesn’t need to be as acutely perceptive as Helaena to realise the truth. That of the one-eyed rogue and his ace. You’ve been drifting from him for so long, that it was only a matter of time.

He was your friend first, and he always will be. You’ve watched each other grow, through endless mistakes and challenges, and there’s a fire in you he cannot match.

But Aemond can. He knows this now.

He extends a hand out to you, one which you accept with poorly masked caution. He understands how woeful it must be, to tear yourself apart from being in love with someone else. The shame and uncertainty that must entail.

For both your sakes, he decides that he has to be the bigger person and do the right thing.

“What do you say?” Art offers to you. “Post match treat?” he asks, referring to your tradition of sharing a large strawberry sundae after games.

“Okay.” Your smile is sweet and unguarded, and it reminds him of when you first met, nearly six years ago. That day, he knew he had made a lifelong friend.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

“I wish I could say I’m happy to see you here, but we did once promise not to lie to each other.”

Aemond swivels toward the sound of your voice, cigarette smoke billowing from his lips.

“Vile habit, Targaryen.” You wrinkle your nose, and he just shakes his head and crushes the butt of his cigarette under his shoe.

“Yeah, well.” He merely shrugs. He was dead set on quitting, but something came up the past couple of days, causing his anxiety to reach new heights. When you ignored him after the night you shared, he can’t fault himself for reaching for depraved solace in nicotine. But no substance would ever be enough to erase the precious memory of watching you come undone.

“Not happy to see me, ace?” he refers back to your greeting, not bothering to hide the hurt he feels.

You walk closer to him, trying to hold back a smile. “Well, I lied. But it’s not like I haven’t lied before.” You stop when you’re right in front of him, the remnants of his smoke making you feel woozy. “I also lied when I said that we can’t keep being us anymore. When I said goodbye.”

“Hmm,” his lips curl at your confession. “Judging by how wildly you fucked me after you said that, I could already tell.”

You roll your eyes, but you already feel so much better, like things are falling right back into place. All it took was some teasing from the apparently callous, sharp-tongued, ambitious-to-a-fault boy standing before you.

A boy who revealed the true depths of his compassion only to you. He let you thaw out his cold heart from its confines and declared it yours.

“Something more to say, ace?” he asks.

“You first.”

“Are you kidding? Why don’t you play this game with your boyfriend?”

You share a lingering look, effectively answering his question. The unabashed shit-eating smile that breaks out on his face is enough to tell you just how he feels.

“Don’t gloat,” you warn him, but he’s already pulled you flush against him with both arms. “I also need a new coach.”

“Mhmm,” he nods, not really in response to your statement. “Save that for later, ace. Please shut the hell up and kiss me.”

He can’t help but smile through kisses, his lips chasing yours when you make an effort to pull away and say something more.

“Aemond, will you - ”

“Fuckin’ - ” a cuss slips from him when you manage to break apart, depriving him of your lips. He answers impatiently, “Yes of course, I’ll be your coach, ace. Of course. Happy? I’ll be anything you want me to be.”

Before he leans in once more, you say, “Don’t you dare fuck this up, Targaryen.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, my love.”

You lean back in mild surprise.

He laughs, “I mean - ace - or my love. Either one applies, really.”

"I... I prefer ace," you say weakly.

"Now, now, my love. I thought we promised not to lie to each other?"

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dragonnarrative-writes · 6 months

Text

Transferrable Skills Part 1

Transferrable Skills Masterlist

Your therapist warned you about superstitious thinking. You've been working on it. In fact, you've been very good at catching it, challenging yourself to relax, and letting things go. Even before this big work trip, you consciously avoided the "unhelpful" rituals and reminded yourself that the little ones were just to make you feel secure, not to actually influence the future across an ocean.

"I'm very nervous," you had told Señor Snuggly two weeks ago. Your worn out stuffed lizard hadn't said anything back, of course. "That's normal, because it’s an international flight. So I'm going to give you a hug good-bye, and you're gonna stay here to watch the house. I know it's not going to change anything, but I'll feel better knowing you're here."

At the airport, you realized that you had forgotten your toothbrush. It had satisfied the part of your brain that was looking for one (1) thing to go wrong. Superstitious thinking, but the kind that helped you to relax and listen to music until you boarded.

Now, forced to sit on the floor, surrounded by shouting men with guns, your brain is stuck on your lopsided stuffed animal and blue toothbrush. Of all the things that could pop into your head, why those?

You almost let out a nervous giggle at the mental image of Señor Snuggly using your toothbrush as a shiv to save the day. And then the idea of what would happen if you started laughing right now almost startles you into another burst of giggles. You clap your hands over your mouth and curl into yourself a little bit more.

Next to you, your boss throws you a sympathetic look. "You okay?"

"No talking!" The nearest assailant yells in heavily accented English. You're pretty sure the attackers have been speaking Russian, but you could be mistaken. He brandishes his gun. "You want to die?"

"She needs to go to the restroom," your boss answers.

"No, I don't," you protest. You really, really do, and have for the last two hours. But being escorted out of the room alone seems like enough of a Bad Idea that your bladder can wait.

"No, she does not," the man confirms. "Shut up. Do not talk."

You meet your boss's eyes and try to silently convey, Why are you trying to get me killed?

His doughy face says back, I am a white man who goes to the gym once a week, and I really like the John Wick movies. I have delusions of being a hero. If one man takes you to the bathroom I have the mistaken belief that I can overpower two men with guns to save everyone. Also you're a black woman, so don't you have super powers? I believe in you, queen.

You may be projecting.

Ten minutes later, just as you're wondering if you should suggest a group field trip down the hall to the bathrooms, a series of gunshots rings through the building. The energy in the room goes from nervous to frantic in an instant. Your bladder shuts up. The Russian men start shouting and waving their guns, apparently too agitated to speak English. Two hostages start crying because no one else speaks Russian, just English, French and your half-forgotten, informal, Mexican Spanish.

Another three Russians come bursting in the room, snarling something you can’t understand. They grab at a couple of people, force them to stand at gunpoint and gesture to the rest of you. And then everyone is up and kind of moving in the direction of the door. But you can’t get out of the door because they’re blocking it, but they’re really agitated that the room is still full of hostages. And then some people are being pushed back down to the floor. Your boss ends up sitting back down again. A hard hand closes on your arm before you can get down, and you and four others are dragged out.

The leader says, “You all are dignitaries, yes? Your embassies will send money or they will watch you die.”

This is, potentially, the worst possible scenario. None of the five of you are even remotely important, let alone dignitaries. You’re not 100% sure about most of the others, but you’re an aid. An aid to an aid, really. The blonde woman with the remarkably sharp bob is a personal assistant. Today’s conference was about health data management, of all things.

You decide you’re not going to die with a full bladder. You look to the man holding your arm in an iron grip and point to the upcoming door on the right. “Can I please go to the restroom? I’ll be quick.”

He asks the leader something in Russian, and then you’re being shoved through the bathroom door. He doesn’t follow you into the stall, but it’s still so awkward to pee knowing that there’s a man with a gun waiting for you. You’re so glad you aren’t on your period - opening the wrapper on anything right now would feel louder than it has since middle school.

The door to the restroom opens just as the toilet finishes flushing. You hear a scuffle, an aborted shout, and then something heavy hits the floor. You freeze, heart racing. But then there’s no more sound.

You wait for what feels like an hour but must only be a minute before calling, “H-hello?”

You don’t get an answer. Unlocking the door and easing it open, you peek out and stifle a gasp. The man who had escorted you is on the ground, a pool of blood growing around him. His gun is gone.

You’re halfway through washing your hands before you realize you’re on autopilot.

It takes everything in you to fight down the urge to freeze in place and make yourself inch around the body to the door. When you poke your head out, the hall looks so normal that it makes you dizzy for a second. You try to decide what to do through the anxiety fog. You can’t hide in the bathroom with a dead body, and you probably can’t go back to the big room with everyone without getting shot. You have no idea where the other faux-dignitaries were taken. Apparently, there’s at least one person going around killing people in bathrooms.

You try to think of what your therapist would say in this situation. All of the options feel bad, she would say. So you can’t not do anything because it feels bad. Thank the anxiety for trying to keep you safe, then try to pick the least awful course of action.

“Fight, flight, freeze, fawn,” you whisper to yourself. Fighting is right out. “Flight, freeze, fawn.” There’s a body pouring blood right behind you. “Flight, fawn.” No one is around to appease. “Flight.”

Another gunshot and shouting. It sounds like it’s coming from the left, so you head right.

You shuck off your sensible kitten heels and fervently wish your otherwise sensible pantsuit wasn’t pastel purple in this very beige hallway. Not that a thicker-than-European-average black woman mincing around in a Swiss hotel and conference center would be inconspicuous in a black suit, your mind counters itself. You try to force your brain to shut up, with mixed success.

You wander a good five minutes, reminding yourself not to panic at every locked door you try. The halls are so quiet that you half convince yourself that you’ve gotten out of immediate danger. So of course, right as you’re about the round the next corner, one of the Russians appears, reeling backwards. And then he collapses, a knife sticking out of his neck.

You can’t really worry about that, though, because right after him comes one of the largest men you’ve ever seen. He must catch sight of you out of the corner of his eye, because his head snaps to look at you. You barely register the assault rifle in his hands because his eyes bore into you through the top half of a human skull.

Oh, I’m glad I already peed, you think, staring into the eyes of Death.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” the man says, growls really. “What are you doing here?”

“I… bathroom? Please don’t kill me. I’ll cooperate.” you squeak out. Oh, fawning! Cool.

“Price, I’ve got one of the hostages,” he says, nonsensically. “I’ve cleared the east wing.”

You jump when his walkie-talkie - of course it’s a walkie-talkie - squawks back an “Affirmative. Status?”

“She’s up and walking,” the man says, not taking his eyes from yours. “Seems uninjured.”

“Stow her somewhere safe.”

“Negative,” Death says. Before you can panic because what the fuck does that mean? he says, “Bringing her back with me.”

“Copy.”

When he takes a step toward you, you stop breathing. Everything in you is screaming RUN and DON’T MOVE at the same time. His second step in your direction results in a full body twitch. You get the impression that the gun is pointed at the ground, but the only thing you can really see is bone white over a black mask and what might be really pretty brown eyes, but the shadow from the overhead light really makes it hard to tell and your vision is going a bit darkaroundtheedgesandohI’mstillnotbreathingthat’snotgreat.

You’re shocked into gasping when a gloved palm touches the side of your face. The rough material helps you settle into your body, just in time to start hyperventilating.

And that’s when things get weird, because Death says, “Easy, lovie. Settle, f’ me, yeah? Deep breaths, like we’ve practiced.”

Your brain latches on to the familiar command to settle before you can even question why it’s familiar. The way the man makes a long, low shushing noise makes you so suddenly weak in the knees that you stagger where you stand.

And then it clicks. Holy shit. You know this voice. You know these commands. You’ve been listening to and learning them at least once a week for the last six months. He doesn’t even sound that different from over the phone or on a video call.

“There you go, that’s good,” Simon, the dominant you’ve been seeing online, tells you through his skull mask. “Keep breathin’. In through the nose, out through the mouth.”

It’s the second time in your life you’ve been surprised out of a panic attack. “W-what the fuck? Si?” you gasp. “What are you doing here? Did you kill that guy?”

“Questions are gonna have to wait,” he says. “Keep breathing. In for four, hold for two. In for two, out for eight. Can you do that?”

“Why are you in Switzerland?”

“Breathe,” he rumbles. “Settle.”

“No,” you hiss, even as your shoulders relax another fraction. The corners of your eyes start prickling with tears.

“This is a double red light situation,” Si says, staring into your eyes. “I know you’re scared, but I’m going to get you out of here. You trust me?”

“You are wearing a skull on your face.”

“And you’re wearing a purple suit,” he answers. “There are people who want to shoot both of us. You get one more outburst, then you’re breathing and following me. Acknowledge.”

What the fuck? “This isn’t a scene!”

His eyes bore into yours. “Might surprise you, but I’m aware. Acknowledge.”

A distant shout makes you flinch. You relent. “Acknowledged. Four in, hold two, two in, out eight. Follow.”

“Good girl,” he says, patting your cheek once. “Stay behind me.”

#dragonnarrativewrites fanfiction #transferrable skills #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #kink fics #this turned out so much more humorous than i expected and is so much fun to write #manic pixie dream ghost

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deluluonmyback · 5 months

Text

impulsivity in bpd can be cutting and dyeing your hair, but it’s also frying and destroying your hair to a point where it’s completely ruined and you’re self conscious of it everyday.

impulsivity in bpd can be having an attitude and saying some petty things to people, but it’s also ruining every good friendship and relationship you’ve ever had and you can’t stop yourself from sabotaging everything, so you end up alone in a deep pit.

impulsivity in bpd can be having some drinks, doing dr*gs, or having a lot of meaningless sex. but it’s also relying on drinking and dr*gs so much that you’re completely off your face all time and it ruins your image and every aspect of your life. and it’s also no one wanting a relationship with you because you “sleep around” or “probably have an std”.

impulsivity in bpd can be browsing an fps facebook. but it’s also stalking their every move online and their every step in the real world constantly because you need them so bad. you can’t live without knowing if they’re okay, knowing what they’re doing, knowing if they’re leaving you for someone else, etc.

the list goes on. us borderlines post a lot of shit about bpd, and in my personal case, laughing it off and sharing it to others makes me feel a bit better and i know that it makes others feel less alone knowing that other people are doing the same horrendous shit. but stop romanticising being obsessive, quirky, impulsive, and having an attitude. it’s fucking painful. the emotional aspect is PHYSICALLY painful. watching the world crumble around us because most of us can’t fucking stop ourselves is painful. the withdrawals from substances, s/h, etc because we are so prone to addiction is PAINFUL. i’m all for supporting our fellow borderlines and cluster b peoples, but STOP self diagnosing to be “trendy”. i’m not on about self diagnosing, etc if you’re certain and it means you’re getting the support that you absolutely need. everyone is deserving of help, whether healthcare wants to agree or not, EVERYONE deserves the help they need. but stop trying to make bpd sound fun. being euphoric is fun, the rest of it IS NOT. ITS FUCKING PAINFUL. thank u bye 💕

(ps. i hate making rant posts about this, but seeing people act like bpd is a “fun choice” in life pisses me the fuck off, every day is just pure fucking suffering. the people romanticising and hyping this shit up are the same people who will talk shit about any cluster b who is showing symptoms or having one hell of an episode. but this NEEDS to be out there x)

(edit: the amount of support i’ve had on this is unreal 😭❤️ i tried to word this the best i can but when i have a lot to say it often comes out making no fucking sense at all or something comes off the wrong way. i saw someone reply about the yanderes shit. I KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN. i don’t know why the fuck people fetishise it, it makes me feel disgusting to have an fp even if i’m keeping as far away from them as possible. and also the “euphoric is fun��, i still do a lot of embarrassing and over the top shit when i’m euphoric that i regret. but in the moment, the happiness i feel i just embrace now because it’s not been often that i ever get to feel like that. thank you so much for the likes and reblogs, i really hope this post has helped y’all. I LOVE YOU ALL ❤️)

#bpd #bpd fp #bpd feels #bpd culture is #bpd vent #actually bpd #bpd thoughts #bpd problems #bpd safe #fp bpd #psych is allergic to borderlines #bordahline pershonality dishorder #actually borderline #borderline pd #borderline personality disorder #borderline #borderline culture is #cluster b

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darlingbabyboo · 1 year

Text

"What's wrong with me?"

♡ Luffy doesn't understand why the sight of you with Ace makes something ignite in him ♡

Reader is described as a girl and shorter then Luffy and Ace. Also, suspend your disbelief, timeline is not at all canon compliant. Also also, not edited in the slightest :)

Ace is being introduced and everything and Luffy is so happy

He loves his brother so much and seeing him is a dream

He's a natural charmer too, the entire crew is smitten with him

And some might be a bit too smitten with him

So rewind a bit, what exactly is your relationship with Luffy?

You're a really valuable member of the crew Luffy values you an extra lot

Since Luffy doesn't have a subtle bone in his entire body literally everyone knows that he's in love with you

Everyone except for you

Luffy might be the most obvious motherfucker but you're the most oblivious motherfucker

Match made in heaven

The crew is sick of your shit

But it's all going to be over soon thanks to a certain flame boi

Going back to Ace

When you saw Ace, your jaw dropped (and honey, who can blame you?)

And when Ace saw you, he was equally impressed because you're also quite a beauty

"I-it's so nice to see you." You can't help but stammer when you see Luffy's older brother. He's so- attractive!

"I should be saying that to you." He gives you an awards-winning smile and you try not to faint. "I love your curls."

You try to compose yourself as he leans in closer, your foreheads brushing against each other. You think- he's trying to break you. And lo and behold, his next words makes your heart skip a beat.

"I've certainly never seen such a beauty in all of the seas."

You can't handle it, your legs start to tremble, you're definitely going to fall over. You can feel yourself going...

Until, Ace wraps his arms around your waist to stop you

The crew watches the scene with a bit of amusement at the lovey-dovey scene

Luffy's not as impressed

"Ace! Let me show you around the ship." In the middle of you, pushing both of you apart (using a bit of his devil fruit to make sure that you guys stay far away from each others)

You pout, upset that your moment has been interrupted

Ace is equally disappointed

And Luffy is now filled with determination to make sure both of you never talk to each other again

"Hey, gorgeous, wanna night watch together? The stars are almost as beautiful as you."

"Oh, well-"

"She's going to be too busy!" Luffy pops in, out of nowhere. Not even remotely near you when the conversation was happening. Lying through his rubber skin because you have fucking nothing to do.

That's how all your interactions with Ace go on for the entirety of his stay

"Gorgeous, wanna walk around the island a bit?"

"That'd be great! I just need to-"

"Too bad that she's helping Sanji search for food!"

"What? No, I'll be fine. You can go with Ace if you want." Sanji doesn't want to be dragged into the weird love triangle with Luffy and his brother.

Luffy, in a shocking display, glares at Sanji and stretches to wrap his arms around you, pulling you into him. He nozzles into you, despite your gasp at the quick motion, "she'll be with me and Usopp, so she can't come with you." He sticks his tongue out at Ace as an extra measure, though his older brother only gives a playful smile.

The crew also has their own playful smiles

Luffy is experiencing jealousy so badly and him talking about his feelings is such a laugh

He tries to talk to you but he's horrible at talking about his feelings and also has such a soft spot for you that he's not match for it

"I didn't think that your brother was like that." You swoon. Luffy wonders if he's imaging hearts in your eyes. Why do you have those. Ace is cool but not that cool.

"I didn't think you would react like that." He huffs out, "I don't even know why you're talking to him this much, he likes you too much."

You laugh, thinking he's just being silly possessive like he is over the rest of the crew. "He's just being friendly. Nothing wrong with that."

"I think there's a lot wrong with that." He insists, a prominent pout on his face and arms crossed.

"Luffy, it's not a big deal."

"Yeah, well..." He trails off when you tilt up and place your hands on his cheeks.

"It's fine Luffy, don't worry." You smile up at him.

A strange feeling swarms in him. Is he hungry right now? All he knows is that he wants your smile aimed at him forever.

When Ace is about to leave, Luffy is practically dragging him away.

He loves his brother, he does, truly

Just doesn't like the chemistry that he has with you

"I'll miss you, beautiful." Ace offers you a charming smile and you bite your bottom lip, giving him a bashful look.

"O-oh, th-thank-"

"Okay, bye Ace, won't see you for a long time!"

He pushes Ace onto his boat, the crew watching in amusement and Ace laughing the entire time.

"Now you can spend more time with me again!" He wraps his arms around you, you giggle at him.

"Sure Luffy- and there's no need to be jealous- out of the two of you, you're my favourite!"

Oh, maybe you weren't that oblivious after all.

Luffy's smile widens when he hears that, hugging you tighter.

No matter what jealousies, you two will always be each others favourites ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

#luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #luffy fluff #luffy angst #one piece x reader #one piece headcanons #one piece fluff #one piece imagines #one piece angst #luffy imagine #luffy scenarios #one piece scenarios #luffy x black reader #one piece x black reader

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wreckingtickles · 1 month

Text

1 Hour in Tickle Hell!

Sir Nighteye doesn't appreciate Izuku endangering himself, and Mirio takes it upon himself to punish him as customary for their agency...

Characters: Lee Izuku, ler Mirio

Words: 7,757

Big thanks to @sleepysheepytea for letting me use her wonderful leezuku piece as a preview image! If you're reading this, you probably have already, but if not, go give her a like!

Intense tickles under the cut!

“Reckless endangerment! You act like your life is of no consequence! But if you die, who is going to save everyone?”

That was the fifth rhetorical question Sir Nighteye asked of a bashful Midoriya as he paced up and down his office, dressing down the stiff teenager.

“Self harm! You risk permanent damage every time you push your Quirk too far, and if your disregard for your own health wasn’t a serious enough matter, what if you incapacitate yourself on the field? What if you had forced Mirio to choose between saving a civilian and you?!”

Neither was looking at the other, Nighteye yelling at the walls as if he couldn’t even bear to look at his intern at that moment, while his words weighed down Midoriya’s gaze and glued it to the floor. Deku understood everything the hero was saying, he realized he was right, but somehow he also knew that he’d make the same choices every single time.

Nighteye’s furious steps halted as he lowered his voice, “And worst of all…” he began before dramatically turning to point an accusatory finger at Izuku, “Your smile wavered! Who is going to believe that there is any hope if they feel like their rescuer is lying to them?!”

Once again, the intern said nothing. All Might’s former sidekick was going to kick him out of the agency, and even as he dreaded that verdict, part of him seemed to think he’d done nothing wrong. Was he really that arrogant?

“For all these infractions, I sentence you…”

Deku closed his eyes as if in preparation for a hard blow to the head.

“...to one hour in Tickle Hell.”

Wait, what? Izuku dared to look up. Nighteye’s impenetrable expression gave nothing away except his usual earnestness. Was that really it?

Mirio, still in his hero costume, piped up next to Izuku. “Sir, the machine broke.”

“Again?!”

“Tiffany’s coming on Monday.”

“Then you’ll carry out his punishment,” commanded Nighteye as he took his seat behind his desk. He’d already checked out of the conversation. “Any problems with that?”

“None, Sir, but since it’s his first time, might we do it after closing time?”

“Very well. Make sure you close up after you’re done.”

—

“Yeah, I lied about the machine,” revealed Mirio with a chuckle. “I just thought it’d be weird for you, especially since it’s your first time.”

“Oh. Thank you,” replied Izuku tentatively, not quite sure what to make out of the surreal deal. If nothing else, he was grateful he wasn’t being tickled in front of everyone else, though Mirio calling it his “first time” didn’t bode too well for his future.

“So, let’s take a seat!” urged Mirio cheerfully, wheeling out two office chairs so they faced each other and motioning for Izuku to choose one.

Blushing to his ears, Izuku took a seat. Mirio plopped down in the other, the mechanism groaning a little under his weight. He was being goofy to put him at ease, Izuku knew, and he wished he could be grateful for it, but the whole situation was too awkward.

Mirio was sitting there in front of him with his comforting smile, as if it was a perfectly normal thing. And it probably was, in Sir’s agency. It’s not like his classmates didn’t tickle him all the time either. Literally: all the time. Apparently, he was just too adorable when he laughed. And while it could be very annoying, he didn’t mind too much, since he could tell it was done with affection and not to humiliate him. But he hadn’t known Mirio that long…

“Hey, you still there?” Mirio’s question snapped him out of his reverie. “You were muttering to yourself.”

“Sorry, it’s just… I feel bad that you lied to Sir Nighteye for me.”

“He probably knows and knows why I did it. And besides, I don’t really mind the machine. It’s a good time,” explained Mirio with his usual jolly tone. “So, you ok with me tickling you?”

Izuku blushed a deeper shade of red and nodded. What else could he say?

“Good! Do you want to set the timer, or should I?”

He was making him feel like an active participant. He had to be an incredible hero in a crisis. But Izuku was too nervous and couldn’t remember where he’d left his phone. “You, uh, you can do it.”

“Great! I’ll set it to 10 minutes, then you get a 2-minute break. That’s how the machine operates. So if you factor in the breaks, you’re only being tickled for 50 minutes! ” explained Mirio as he set the timer on his phone and placed it on the desk next to Midoriya, so he could check it at will. “One last thing! I need you to take off your shoes and socks. Oh, and to make it count, I need to tickle you under your T-shirt, or you can take it off if you prefer. Is that ok with you?”

“D-Do you really have to?”

“Yep!” said Mirio, clapping his hands on his thighs. “I agree with Sir, you need to learn that your well-being matters, so don’t expect me to play nice!”

Maybe the machine wouldn’t have been so bad after all. But then he remembered that each time he’d seen the machine in action, it always started with those fuzzy appendages that targeted the poor hero’s sides and hips, and Izuku shivered at the memory. One hour of the spot his classmates had told him was his worst for a whole hour?! No way.

“O-ok,” stammered Izuku as he began to remove his bright red shoes, carefully tucking them aside. He also slipped off his black socks - thankfully the agency had showers and he’d been able to wash up - balled them up, and put one inside each shoe.

“You’re very tidy, good for you!” praised Mirio, but Izuku was too tongue-tied to utter anything other than a bashful “Thanks.”

Izuku sat back down, forcing himself to keep his bare soles planted on the ground and to keep his back straight, his hands balled into nervous fists on his thighs. He wanted nothing more than to hide his face behind his knees and die of embarrassment.

Mirio was looking at him with that smile of his. There was no telling what he was thinking. “Oh, can you start the timer?” he asked suddenly.

“Y-Yes,” answered Izuku, anything to keep his mind off of what was about to happen. He reached his hand toward the desk, tapped the screen… and suddenly found himself in a world of hysterics as Mirio’s hands snuck up to his sides.

“WAHAHAHAHAHIHIHIT!!! IIHIHIHHI WAAHAHAHAHASN’T REEEHEHEHEHEHADDY!!!!”

“Not good, Midoriya! Expect the unexpected!” advised Mirio while his strong hands went on squeezing the green bean’s sensitive flanks.

Izuku tried batting them away, grabbing his wrists, using any self-defense technique he’d learned, but Mirio was much stronger than him and even a mere few seconds of tickling had messed up his coordination. Betrayed by his own sensitive body, again!

“NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHA!!!”

It didn’t even matter that the senpai was tickling him through his T-shirt, all Midoriya seemed to be able to do was sink deeper into the chair and laugh as Mirio loomed over him.

“Oh wow, you’ve got it bad!” remarked Mirio with a chuckle. “Are you ticklish anywhere else?” he asked as he moved up to the trainee’s ribs. This time, the fabric of Izuku’s statement shirt lessened the effect of the probing fingers that vibrated and raked at his ribcage with single-minded dedication.

“AAAHAHahahahahahHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! PLEEEHHHEHEHahaahasssseeheheheh!!! StoohoHOHOHOHOP!”

“No can do, Midoriya! This is your punishment! Take your tickles with pride!”

Izuku couldn’t tell to what extent Mirio was teasing him and to what extent he was being his goofy self, but he found himself trying to hide his beet red face from his upperclassman, and failing miserably as the the thumbs suddenly pressing into the bottom of his ribcage forced him to squeal and to try to push the offenders away from him.

“NAAAAhahaahahahahahaha!!! IhihihihIHIHIHIHIT TIHIHIHIHIcklehehehehehehehssss!!”

Mirio couldn’t believe how adorable the first year looked when he laughed freely, his face scrunched up and his beautiful smile on full display as the boyish laughter rang in the empty office, an informal welcome.

Mirio hadn’t expected it would be that much fun. He could tell that Izuku, after the shock of the first few moments, was torn between trying to escape the tickles and forcing himself to sit still and embrace his weird punishment, and the clash between his will and his sensitivity made his struggle all the more endearing.

But when the probing fingers entered Izuku’s underarms, Izuku was suddenly of a single mind about his predicament.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! TOOOHOHOHOGAHAHAHATA!!! IIII CAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHNNN’TT!!!”

He had fully sunk in the back of the chair, his legs kicking wildly at either side of the goofy tickle monster as the latter leaned forward to negate Izuku’s attempt to merge with the cushion, his tongue stuck out in concentration as he was determined to mine that weak spot for all it was worth.

Naturally, the greenette’s natural reaction was to clamp down his arms, succeeding at limiting the range of motion of those pesky fingers… too bad they were exactly where Mirio wanted and Izuku didn’t want them.

“TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHIHIHHIIHHIIHMMEEE!!! TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHIHHIHHIHIMME!!!” squealed izuku through the gales of laughter.

Mirio raised his head - he didn’t even need to relent to glance at the stopwatch - and gave him an apologetic smile. “Take my word for it, you don’t want to know,” he promised as his index fingers made a push deeper into the all too sensitive hollows.

“YAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHA!!!”

Mirio simply couldn’t believe how adorable the greenette sounded and looked when he was flailing in the throes of ticklish agony, his entire body tensing up from under Mirio, his eyes widening with shock for a moment, as the fingers inched upward and inward, teasing the very sensitive skin at the center of Midoriya’s underarms.

“OOOOOHOHOHOHO NOOOOHOHOHOOHHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! HAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

Izuku didn’t know what to do. They’d probably just started, but Mirio was going at it with an enthusiasm he hadn’t anticipated, he really seemed hell-bent on making that punishment feel like… a punishment.

But even through his T-shirt, it tickles so much that Izuku gave up hope of controlling his reactions, and he reflexively started pushing Mirio away in any way he could - and with his arms being out of commission as they were locked in their ineffective barricade, that meant trying to create enough space by wedging a knee against Mirio’s chest, then pushing with his other foot.

That maneuver had been created with grappling in mind; but in that specific scenario, it would lead to more harm and good, because when Mirio felt the foot push against his chest, he didn’t try to oppose it: he grabbed it. “Rookie mistake, young Midoriya.”

Izuku was almost relieved that first one hand, then the second left his poor pits alone. By the time he realized his mistake, it was too late, because four fingers were already scribbling up and down his bare sole.

“HAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHahahahahahahahahahaha!!! Nohohohoahaht thehehehehehehehehehehhere!!!”

It was only one foot, but there was no protective layer of fabric between the tickling fingers and the tickled sole, and Izuku really did not want to make the same mistake twice, so he tried to keep his other foot firmly planted on the ground, or at least out of Mirio’s reach, but no matter how hard he kicked, Mirio’s grip was a steel vise, and he only succeeded at rolling his chair farther and closer to his tickler.

For his part, Mirio was plenty happy to take his time with the one sole he got, a little squat and small in his hand, but arguably a little big on someone Izuku’s height, while he waited for the second to inevitably fall into his lap. He abandoned his scattershot approach in favor of a more analytical one, scratching briefly at the heel…

“Hahahahahahaha!!! Hehehehehehehehehehe!”

Then the scribbling fingers traveled up the arch, lingering on the instep when Mirio noticed that Izuku’s giggling grew more squeaky…

“Hahahahaahha!! NEHEHEHEHEhehehehehehehehhahahahaaha!!!”

He dragged his fingernails up and down the arch, and whenever Izuku would attempt to lessen the sensation by scrunching up his sole, Mirio would briefly focus on his arch right above his heel, constantly switching between those spots… It wasn’t just classmates who were oddly skilled at tickling!

“Ohohohohahahahahahahaha!! HAHAahahahahahahahahahaha!!”

Finally, the dull fingernails reached Izuku’s bubble-like toes, eliciting bubbly giggles and squeaks from the greenette, who gripped the armrests for dear life as Mirio seemed to have no intention of letting go and repeatedly stomped the ground with his other foot.

“NeheheehehHEHEHEHEHEEHHEEHE!!! Hahahahahahahahaahahahahahahaha!!!”

“Your toes are so small and cute,” teased Mirio, proceeding to run his thumb on the underside of his toes before grabbing them one by one as if playing ‘this little piggy’. He’d noticed how Izuku wasn’t even trying to negotiate or plead, but had accepted his predicament even as his body fought against it. Either he didn’t hate it, or he was used to it.

Izuku went on squirming in his seat, floundering as his priorities were split between maintaining his balance and hiding his face. Mirio took that chance to lift his ankle higher, throwing him slightly off balance and forcing his other leg to kick out, and Mirio was ready, rapidly scooping both ankles in a headlock and spidering his fingers all over both soles.

“NOOOOhohohohhoho!!! SeheheehEHEHEHHEHEhenpaaaahahahahaihihi!!!! HahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAahahahahahahhaha!!!”

“You sound so happy!” remarked Mirio, as if Izuku needed additional teasing. “Is this your most ticklish spot?”

Izuku didn’t know if his armpits or his feet were worse despite the wealth of experience his classmates had regaled him with, they were bad in different ways, but he knew there was one spot that was even worse. He wasn’t going to say it, but he wasn’t going to lie either, and the compromise seemed to be to laugh his head off.

“I’m not hearing a no,” said Mirio as his frenzied scratching got faster, focusing on the arches and Izuku’s toes.

Izuku threw his head back as the ticklish sensation coursed up his body… and felt himself fall before his shoulders hit the ground.

Mirio stopped tickling him immediately. “Are you hurt?”

Izuku took a few deep breaths, shielding his face once more as he shook his head no.

“Good!” trilled Mirio before sending him into a new fit of laughter as he resumed tickling the squat soles. “Just kidding,” he said after a few moments, letting go of Izuku’s ankles and offering him a hand, which Izuku took. In a moment, he was back on his feet, welcoming the cold floor under his pink soles.

Izuku took that chance to glance at the timer. Six minutes. It hadn’t even been six minutes yet. Izuku went pale, meaning that his scarlet complexion dimmed to a dark pink. But he didn’t have a lot of time to mull over that piece of info, because he was suddenly pulled into Mirio’s lap, the upperclassman’s thick forearm a steel bar that pinned his chest.

Any protest Izuku might have formulated dissolved into gleeful cackles as Mirio’s free hand crawled under his tee and started scratching at his taut stomach.

“NEHEHEHahhahaahahahahahaha!! Stoohhohohohahahahaap PLEHEHEHEHEHAAASE!!”

“Here too? You are one ticklish guy,” chuckled Mirio without being bothered by Izuku’s attempts to grab his wrist or shield his tummy, being much stronger than the green bean who seemed hell bent on not using his Quirk to get away.

Mirio’s friendly claw was wreaking havoc on Izuku’s belly, inflating and depressing to the bright tune of his laughter. He roamed all across the abdominal expanse, dipped one finger in Izuku’s bellybutton to unleash a few adorable squeaks, spidered his fingers on his lower belly and waist, then let his hand tweak at every part of Izuku’s skin under the tee, revisiting his sides, his ribs, making brief attacks on his pits, before descending and squeezing Izuku’s hip…

The greenette’s eyes bulged open as he screeched “NAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! NahahahahahHAHAAHAHAHHAHAT THEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHARRE!!!”

“I think you really mean it this time,” teased Mirio as he went on pinching and squeezing at the dreaded spot, switching sides so Izuku couldn’t keep up. When he saw there were only 20 seconds left, “You’re almost there!” he cheered as he latched onto Izuku’s hip and dug in repeatedly, fully unleashing his inner big brother to really give the younger student a laugh.

He kept his eye on the timer in case he couldn’t hear it over Izuku’s laughter, and when he saw it hit zero, he immediately let go of the green bean, only helping him steady himself so he wouldn’t fall again.

“There, there,” he said. “Take deep breaths.”

Izuku jumped off Mirio’s lap and landed on the chair in front of him, his perception of the hot seat completely altered after the last round of tickling.

“You good?”

“I’m… ok, just… uh…” stammered Izuku, and at first Mirio thought he was simply catching his breath, btu then he noticed how the green bean’s gaze was glued to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” said Mirio, causing Izuku to perk up. “Between my Quirk and working with Sir, sometimes I forget that some things come across as a bit weird outside of this office.”

“No, it’s… it’s ok, really,” assured Midoriya.

“I should have offered to let you tickle me first, because it’s really no big deal! Laughing is fun. Sometimes, if I’m having a hard day, I ask Sir to let me use the machine to feel better.”

That was some major Kirishima energy coming from the heroic goofball, and that familiar attitude relaxed the hold that embarrassment had on Izuku’s chest.

“But if it’s too weird for you, I can let you use the machine, or we can speak to Sir tomorrow and try something else!”

A wave of gratitude washed over Izuku. Still, “No, it’s… I want to do this,” he said. “Ihit’s not too… weird. In fact, I’m… kind of used to it.”

Mirio smiled. “I can believe that, your laughter really lights up the room! It’s so nice to listen to.”

That comment caused Izuku’s arm fortress to envelop his face again. Even so… “T-thanks,” he said. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard that, and he’d started to accept it as a compliment. Since they’d moved into the dorms, pretty much every brush with tickling he’d had was not a way to demean him, but affectionate physical contact or a silly way to bond, and it had started to remove the sting of past memories with it.

And Mirio… Izuku was a bit intimidated by the upperclassman who should have received One for All in his place, he was just so amazing that despite his kind demeanor, or perhaps precisely because of it, Izuku felt some kind of resistance at the prospect of getting close to him. And still, over time, he’d started to want to be his friend. So the fact that he was acting the same way his friends did was… comforting.

“Ready for round 2?” asked Mirio.

“A-Already?”

“You have one more minute, don’t worry, but I have a proposal. Two, actually!”

“Ok,” replied Izuku nervously.

“First: we use the machine’s restraints so you don’t have to worry about punching me in the face or activating your Quirk. Sounds good?”

No, it didn’t, but it made sense, and he trusted Mirio. Even so, he gulped before saying, “Yes.”

“Proposal the second: if you want to get this over with quicker, we can turn on the machine while I tickle you. We’ll say that cuts the remaining time in half. What do you think?”

If Izuku tried to hide the panic in his eyes, he certainly failed. That would allow them to go home sooner, especially Mirio, who was essentially working overtime due to Izuku’s own mistakes, but the green bean didn’t want to find out what being double-teamed felt like. “M-Maybe later.”

Mirio nodded, his smile unwavering, and walked over to the machine’s control panel. “Let’s see…”

As he pressed various buttons, the machine began to shift, changing its angle, adding and removing restraints, creating protrusions and depressions. That thing was a lot more customizable than Izuku had ever thought, and he couldn’t help wondering who had made it and how much money Sir must have spent on it.

“Hop on,” instructed Mirio. The machine was nearly unrecognizable. It was at around a 30° angle from the floor, with a large cubic protrusion emerging from the bottom that seemed to be intended as a seat. Two metal rings jut out from the front of the cube - ankle restraints, surmised Izuku. There was a second set of restraints at the top of the machine, two adjacent parallelepipeds with circular holes.

Izuku sheepishly made his way toward the machine, eyeing the four cavities from which the tickle-tools were supposed to come out. But he knew they wouldn’t unless he gave Mirio the go ahead.

Before hopping on the cubic seat, however, he paused to remove his top - his hair was already damp and he didn’t want to sweat through his change of clothes as well. Considering how many times he’d seen Mirio naked due to Quirk-related accidents, he didn’t feel too awkward.

Mirio flashed Izuku a thumbs-up as the latter climbed into the machine, the cold metal not entirely unpleasant against his bare back. He placed his ankles into the two rings, which snapped shut around the cuffs of his emerald trousers, then raised his arms over his head and fitted his wrists through the padded restraints above him.

Lying there was certainly more comfortable than standing or thrashing about in an office chair, but it also made Izuku feel that much more exposed and vulnerable, his entire upper body stretched out and on full display, his bare feet dangling out of reach.

His nervousness was partly allated when he saw Mirio step closer to him, having concocted a rather extravagant solution to allow Izuku to see the timer: he’d put his phone in his armband and donned it on his head, so the screen was smack dab in the middle of his forehead. It was exactly the kind of kind and silly thing Mirio would do to put someone at ease, and Izuku felt a wave of affection for the older student.

“Are you ready? I won’t be too mean, I promise.”

Izuku nodded, steeling himself.

“Ok. Boop the timer,” instructed Mirio as he leaned closer to Izuku’s face, allowing him to start the timer with his nose. It took a few tries, and Izuku chuckled in spite of himself. Mirio was trying so hard to put him at ease, he had to do his part too.

“Timer booped successfully,” he said as he tried to approximate the upperclassman’s speech.

“Fantastic!” exclaimed Mirio an instant before he started squeezing Izuku’s knees.

The ticklish jolt caused the greenette to jump a little, and Mirio went on squeezing, looking for just the right spot as his fingers probed at the fabric and the muscle under it.

“Eep! Eek!” yelped Izuku repeatedly, before the string of squeaks melded into a steady stream of high-pitched giggles as Mirio’s thumbs found just the right spot above each kneecap and wouldn’t let go.

Izuku’s titters were just too precious, Mirio knew at that moment it wouldn’t be the last time he’d volunteer to punish the green bean if he kept running headlong into danger. There was something so innocent about the way he kept scrunching his fists and soles to cope with the sensation, about the way his toes pointed inward as he twisted his knees to escape the tickles.

It was such a mesmerizing sight that Mirio ended up spending way more time on that spot than he’d intended, so he tried to make up for it by goosing Izuku’s thighs.

“Hehehehehehehehehehe!! Hehahahahahahahahahahaah!!!”

Thankfully, the thick fabric diffused some of the pressure, making it a lot more bearable than it would have been otherwise.

“It’s not so bad, is it?” asked Mirio.

“Ihihihit tihihihckleehehs buhuhut Ihihih cahahahn tahahahahke ihihihit!” admitted Izuku.

“Ok, good to know!” replied Mirio. “Time to get serious!”

And he started spidering his fingers up and down Izuku’s ribs and sides. momentarily avoiding the hot spot that were his hips, but not holding back at all otherwise, playing the green bean like a piano.

The reaction was immediate.

“OhnoohohohOHOHOHHOAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

Izuku burst into laughter, it was so much worse when he was shirtless and couldn’t squirm away!

And Mirio didn’t linger on a single spot for too long, letting his fingers travel up and down, up and down, delivering light and quick touches like kitten licks.

Next he tried slowly dragging his fingernails, caressing the skin, and while Izuku’s laughter seemed to decrease for a moment, the longer he kept it up, the higher in pitch it rose, and it quickly spilled forth again, bubbling like a cauldron.

“EhehehehehHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHAHHAHAAHHAHAHAAHAHAH!!! PLEHEHEHAHAHAHAHSE STOOOHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHPP!!!”

The contrast between Izuku’s frantic struggling and the slowness and delicateness of Mirio’s touches was just beautiful, enough that the older student wondered if he’d just found his new favorite antistress. Lighter touches seemed to work just as well, if not better. That would make the machine very effective.

But he wouldn’t rest on his laurels, because when the fingernails ended their umpteenth descent, skipping slightly as they hit the ridges of Izuku’s ribcage before curving down the soft slopes of his sides, he began his ascent by squeezing at the flanks, massaging the area with his thumbs as he did so.

Izuku’s laughter instantly became lower-pitched, but also louder, a new gale spilling forth as he was blindsided by Mirio’s new technique.

When he reached the base of the greenette’s ribcage, he laid off on the squeezing and let his thumbs do most of the work, digging in and massaging, causing Izuku to snort. Mirio lingered briefly on that spot just to get him to let out that adorable sound again, before proceeding to count each of his ribs in a rather torturous manner, and then back down, and up again.

“NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHEH!!! HAHAHHAAH HAHAHAHAHHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

Satisfied with his initial exploration, Mirio then began mixing and matching methods and spots, digging his thumb in Izuku’s floating ribs while squeezing his side, scratching at his ribs while lightly dragging his fingernails down his flank, sometimes using both hands on the same side of his body, just to constantly keep him guessing.

The uncertainty and ever-changing pattern made it impossible for Izuku to get used to the sensation. Through half-lidded eyes, he managed to see there were about 4 minutes left. He could do it!

And then he felt Mirio’s fingers in his armpits.

“GHAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!!! NAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA!!!”

Mirio smiled at the mirthful outburst. If Izuku reacted like that when his underarms were under fire, how would he react when Mirio would get to his hips? For the time being, however, he was perfectly content with driving the greenette up the wall by wiggling his fingers in the damp hollows, his scribbling motions light and quick since that seemed to be particularly effective.

And Izuku could attest to it. “HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!!! PLEHEHEHEHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHSSEE!!! HAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

Three minutes.

Mirio kept it up for a few more moments before switching to massaging the hollows top to bottom with his thumbs, pressing gently but firmly, and though Izuku wasn’t as hysterical as before, there was no stopping the cyclical torrent of guffaws and spasms.

“It’s not as bad when I use my thumbs, right?” he asked.

Izuku would have preferred not to talk, but even if past experiences had taught him to answer his tickler, he still felt some kind of obligation toward the older student, so he forced himself to reply, “HIHIHIHIYEHEHEHEHEHEHESSS!!”

Mirio snickered at his own deviousness. Izuku would forgive him, he just had to do it. Time must have been almost up anyway.

“Good to know,” he responded before plunging his thumbs into Izuku’s hips, using the same massaging technique on the depression next to the bone and on his waist and V-line.

Izuku screeched. “EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHEHEHEHEEHEHHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAH!!”

He convulsed as if he’d been electrocuted, but the thumbs wouldn’t let go, so shrill, howling laughter exploded out of him. His shock of emerald hair flung droplets of sweat as he desperately shook his head in denial, a few landing on the display on Mirio’s forehead that kept ticking down. 1:43.

Even a few seconds in, Izuku’s laughter didn’t seem to subside at all. The poor guy was really ticklish. But Mirio wasn’t torturing him to have fun.

“Hey Midoriya, can you still hear me?”

“GHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! NEHEHEHEHEEHHEHEEHEHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!!”

“It tickles a lot, doesn’t it?”

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHHAHAHHAAHAHKK!!! HAHAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHH YEEEEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHAAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHHA!!!!”

“Good! So the next time you throw yourself into the fray without regard for your well-being, remember this, because I’m going to do it again. Got it?”

“EEEHEHEHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAHA!!! PL-PLEEEHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

“I need to hear you say it!” demanded Mirio as he started squeezing his hips rapidly.

Izuku’s eyes flew open, dripping ticklish tears down his cheeks. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!!! YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHSSSSS!!! YEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

“Good.”

Mirio gave a few more squeezes before his fingers relented, slowing to a stop a few moments before the timer went off.

“You’ve made it through round 2! Very well done!” he cheered, but Izuku was too busy filling his lungs with hair to respond.

“It’s a great workout for your core, isn’t it?” asked Mirio as he patted Izuku’s stomach.

The greenette winced, expecting Mirio’s fingers to curl and start tickling him again, but the upperclassman did no such thing.

“Whoa! Wat is that, some kind of manly endurance test?!”

Izuku felt a mixture of relief and horror when he noticed that two figures were standing on the threshold, and if the outline Izuku could make out through the mist of tears hadn’t been enough to identify one of them, his energetic, enthusiastic voice was unmistakable.

“I want to try it!!” beamed Kirishima, his whole face lighting up at the prospect of such a fun challenge.

“Hey, Tamaki! And you must be Kirishima, right?” asked Mirio, pausing the timer as he went to greet them. “This is supposed to be a punishment, but I can try asking Sir if you’d like.”

Izuku blinked the tears away and noticed Kirishima staring straight at him and the machine with awe, while Tamaki was doing his best to look at anything but Izuku, which made the supremely awkward meeting feel even more unbearable.

“I think y-you and t-this one have something in common,” stammered Tamaki in what may have been a tragic attempt at a quip.

“Hey Midoriya! How’re you holding up?”

Izuku nodded, muttering a feeble “F-fine.”

Mirio patted him on the head. “This champ has been going at it for twenty minutes. Only thirty to go!”

Kirishima’s eyes bulged as he did the math. “Fifty minutes?!”

He knew very well just how ticklish the greenette was, and the compassion and admiration he felt for him was bottomless.

“Think you could handle it?” asked Mirio.

Kirishima crossed his arms in front of his chest, instinctively protecting his sensitive upper body. “Good luck, Midoriya,” he wished somberly.

“Let’s leave him to rest, he’s earned it,” commented Mirio as he tried to move the conversation away from the disheveled greenette. “What brings you here?”

“Fatgum a-asked us to get case file TK-131. S-Sir Nighteye approved, he told us y-you’d be here.”

“That must be somewhere in the archive, I’ll help you find it! Have you been waiting long?”

This time it was Kirishima who replied. “Just a minute or two, we heard laughter inside and Suneater told me it was normal and to wait.”

Mirio smiled at his shy friend. “Good! The archive is downstairs, the door on the left, I’ll come help you out in a moment.”

Tamaki thanked him and led Kirishima away, but not before the redhead pumped his fist at Izuku to encourage him, while Mirio made his way back to Izuku.

“I have to help them for a little bit. Think you can handle the machine?”

At that stage, Izuku doubted that the machine’s fluffy appendages could be worse than Mirio’s strong and uncomfortably skilled fingers, so he was almost relieved to hear the offer.

“Great! I’ll just set it, give me a second… So, this would be the third round, so Level 3 it is… standard tools? Yes… 10 minutes… starting in 1 minute. Need a bathroom break?”

Izuku slowly worked his way through the words Mirio was saying to him, elaborating through a cloud of artificial giddiness.

“S-Sorry you have to… do this on my… account,” he panted.

Mirio shook his head and retrieved Izuku’s bottle to let him drink. “You really have nothing to apologize for. But is it weird if I say I’m doing this because I agree with Sir?”

Izuku allowed himself to chuckle, his sore throat refreshed by the drink.

“A little bit. But it’s not… so bad.”

Mirio smiled back, remembering only at that moment to remove the band from his forehead. “I’m going to go help them. And not like there’d be anything wrong with it, but we’re not going to hear you downstairs.” He winked and went after the Fatgum interns.

Izuku closed his eyes, trying to steady his breath and slow down his pulse. He could do it. It was just a workout. A very weird workout. And embarrassing, too. But Mirio’spersonality had the power to remove the sting of shame. For the most part. He could do it. He’d been through worse.

He took one last deep breath as the machine whirred to life. He eyed the lower set of openings, the ones of a height with his waist. It was just going to be a bit of fluff, he could take it. Fluff designed specifically to tickle him into submission. Even if that was true, it couldn’t be worse than a human with five fingers per hand!

But as the pink appendages emerged, looking like something in between foxtail spikes and miniature feather dusters, Izuku couldn’t help but notice that there were two per opening, and they immediately got to work, feathering his sides and his even more sensitive hips, from the bone to the waist of his trousers.

“Hehehehehahahahahahahahahaha!!! Hihihahahahahahahahaahahahahahaha!!! N-Nohohohahahahaha!!”

Izuku, and way too many people around him, knew he was feather ticklish. In fact, he could feel every little barb of each of the four appendages, coming together for an effect greater than the sum of their parts. It felt different from rougher forms of tickling, like it was calling on his skin to come alive, a teasing sensation that was just as intense as form of stimulation with more pressure, but for which laughing did not feel like a suitable outlet, causing him to dissolve into breathy, hiccuping giggles punctuated by the occasional snort - less loud, just as tortured, and, possibly, even cuter.

And just as Izuku started questioning whether he’d underestimated certain things, the machine powered up again, extruding two more pairs of fuzzy appendages that began to oscillate up and down his ribs and in his underarms. What a terrible time to find out that his armpits were just as receptive to soft tickles as his hips.

“Wahahahaahahahahahaihihihit!!!! F-Fohohohohouhuhur wehehehehehehre ehehehnOHOAHAHAHAHAHAHahahaahahahahahahahAHAHhHAHAHHAHAHAHAH!!”

But Izuku was in for another disappointment, because amidst his thrashing and laughing, he didn’t notice a panel slide forward under his feet, and an additional four fuzzy appendages got to work on thoroughly tickling his soles from heel to toe, one pair largely focusing on his arch and instep, the other on the ball and the base of his toes.

No new ground was broken this time - Izuku already knew that his feet were also extremely feather sensitive.

“NEEEAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! STHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAPPP!! IHIHIHIT’S TOOHOHOHOHO MUUUUHAHAHAHAHAHHCCCHHH!!!”

And that was when he realized that no matter how much he begged, the machine wouldn’t relent, the machine wouldn’t stop. He was on the hook for the entire ten minutes. 10 minutes during which the fuzzy appendages would keep caressing his sides and ribcage, dancing in his underarms, following the defined line of his pecs and back into the sensitive hollows, slithering up and down and across his soles so no matter how much he scrunched or waved them, they’d never escape the tickles, torturously teasing his waist and hips, inevitable.

The specially designed fuzz wouldn’t warp from continuous contact with ticklish skin or by absorbing the moisture of the layer of perspiration it erected as a last defense, no, it would keep delivering surgically precise tickles for the entire time it had been programmed to, without mercy or emotion, the twelve swaying appendages like hands counting down the seconds, and Izuku the hysterical, overstimulated clock face.

It tickled so much and in such a teasing, penetrating way that Izuku couldn’t help fighting against the sensation, trying to distract himself by counting, telling himself it couldn’t be much longer, but the seconds stretched into minutes and the stimulation was overwhelming.

First he stopped thrashing, not because he’d run out of energy or wanted to save it, but because he’d accepted defeat. He wasn’t going anywhere. Once again, he could only embrace what was happening to him, trying to focus on the smaller part that felt pleasant rather than torturous.

Then he stopped begging, which he’d kept up not to convince anyone except himself, that there was something he could do to put an end to it, at least at first, then the pleas melded into a mantra, which was finally broken by the hiccups and snorts.

Finally, he let the tears roll down his cheeks freely, unencumbered by shame or delusions of control, cutting through the freckles and dripping down his neck, allowing the giddiness to consume him.

That was the state Mirio found him in, plus a multitude of hiccups, a minute or so after the machine stopped, having already sent Tamaki and Kirishima on their way.

“Well done! you’ve made it past the halfway point!”

Izuku was too busy huffing and puffing to reply, but accepted Mirio’s offer of another sip of water and declined a toilet break.

“You know, I was a bit like you a few years back,” said Mirio, filling the silence while he allowed Izuku to recuperate. “I wanted to keep everyone safe. Except for myself, I guess.”

The greenette forced himself to look at Mirio.

“It’s like Sir said. If you die, you can’t save anyone else. Think of all the good you could do in the future.”

Izuku sighed. If only it were so easy. The Quirk he’d been given, All Might’s torch…

“But it’s not just that. I understand you want to prove your worth, but you aren’t just a hero. You’re a person. You have people who love you and a life to live to the fullest.”

That struck a chord within Izuku. How often had he worried that his classmates were putting too much pressure on themselves? That they - no, not even him - weren’t ready for that kind of responsibility yet?

“And if you want to be a hero, be a hero for as long as you can. You have to value your life and respect your body. Got it?”

Izuku thought he could hear echoes of All Might in the upperclassman’s words, and wondered if he’d ever given Mirio a similar speech. Maybe he wasn’t changing his priorities yet, but there was something to that opposing viewpoint, something he’d have to confront, because it came from someone who seemed to understand him.

The green bean swallowed the last of his hiccups to simply say, “T-Thanks.”

“Mull it over, ok? Now we just have to make sure it sinks in. Only two rounds left!”

Twenty minutes. The thought horrified Izuku. No. He wanted it to be over as soon as possible.

“Can… you do it… too?” he asked, pushing down his nervousness. “To… halve the… time.”

The only way out was through.

Mirio would have patted Izuku on the shoulder if the way he was restrained didn’t make it impossible. “A fine choice, Midoriya! No need to turn up the intensity either,” he replied as he programmed the machine.

“You ready?”

Izuku steeled himself, then nodded.

The machine started up again, the appendages instantly sending Izuku into a new fit of hysterics.

“Hahahahahahahahaha!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHA!!!”

“You’re a brave one,” said Mirio as he walked toward the guffawing greenette. “Now, repeat after me. My life is important,” he instructed as he started squeezing his knees again.

“HEhehehehhahahahahaahahahahaha!!! IHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHNNT!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHA!!”

“Sure you can!” urged Mirio while moving up to Izuku’s thighs, to give him an extra incentive. “My life is important!”

Izuku had convinced himself that with the machine already overwhelming his senses, Mirio’s touches would have lost some of their power. He was wrong.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! M-MYHIHIHAHAHAHAHHAA LIHIHIHHIFE IHIHIHHIS!!! IHIHIHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

“You can do it!” said Mirio while kneading his thumbs into the muscle of Izuku’s thighs.

“IHIHIHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHA!!! IHIHIMPAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!! IMPOHOHOHHAHAHAHAHARTHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHNTT!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!!!”

What Mirio was doing, reaching deep under the skin, tickled in a completely different way from the twelve - twelve! - mechanical foxtails writhing in all his most ticklish spots, so instead of diffusing each other, the sensations compounded to instantly make Izuku regret his decision.

“You’re doing great! ‘My health is important!’”

Mirio’s requests prevented him from sinking into the sensation, forcing him to remain present at all times.

It also didn’t help that Mirio had moved his right hand away from Izuku’s thigh and had started scribbling his fingers on Izuku’s lower stomach, causing Izuku to spasm and to let out a loud squeak.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!! NAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!!!”

“My health is important!” repeated Mirio without letting up in the slightest.

“STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAPPP!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! MYHIHIHHI HEHEHEHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! IHIHIS IHIHIHIMPOOOHOHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHRT-TAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

“I’ll take it. Now for the last one!” promised Mirio while his second hand joined the first in scratching and poking all over Izuku’s abs, more prominent than ever due to the intense workout they were receiving.

“EEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! EHEHEHEHEHHENAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAUUHGHGHGHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAH!!!”

“You’re almost there! ‘I am important.’”

“HAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHA!!! IHIHHIAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHMMM!!! IMP-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHA!!!”

“Again!”

“IHIHIHIMPAPPAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! IHAHAHAHAM IIHIHIHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAAH!!! IAMIMPORHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAAAAHAHAHAHAHAAHA!!!”

“Uh, your belly looks like a pretty ticklish spot too, uh?” observed Mirio while his ten fingers continued to wreak havoc on said ticklish tummy. “Fear no, I came prepared!” he assured, seemingly without considering that he could just stop tickling Izuku to let him speak.

Instead, he pulled a green marker out of his pocket, removed the cap, and started writing something across Izuku’s glistening chest. “I… aaaaaaammmm…. immmmpooorrrrtaaaaannnnnt!”

Unfortunately, the tip also happened to tickle Izuku terribly, and Mirio was dexterous enough that his left hand didn’t have to stop scratching at his belly while he went on writing, tracing over the most ticklish letters smudged by Izuku’s perspiration or that were rendered unreadable by his useless squirming, renewed by the sheer intensity of the double attack.

“What was the second one? Mmmmmyyyyyyyyyyy… heeeeaaaaallllth… iiiiisssss… iiiiimmmmpoooooo-impooooooortaaaannnnt!” he spelled out as he wrote the letters right under Izuku’s pecs, uncovering a new ticklish spot for the greenette.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAH!!! MMMMIHIHIHHIRIOOOOOHOHOH!!! STAAAHAAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHPPP!!” begged Izuku, throwing all formality out of the window.

“No can do, Midoriya! Myyyyyyyyyyy… llllllliiiiiiiiiiiiiffffffffeeeeee… iiiiiiisssss…”

He’d started writing across Izuku’s belly, dodging the rivulets that glistened in the abdominal creases, and if the green bean had hoped that would mean Mirio’s left hand would remain idle or return to a spot protected by his trousers, he was sorely disappointed as the ticklign fingers attacked the underside of his pecs.

“GHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!!”

“Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimmmmmmmpoooooooooooooooorrrrtaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnt!” concluded Mirio, writing the “o” around Izuku’s bellybutton and circling it repeatedly before dipping the marker into the navel to color all around and inside it.

Mirio uncapped the marker, which gave Izuku enough bandwidth to remember just how awful the fuzz on his hips, soles, and in his underarms tickled, aided and abetted by the appendages still working over his ribs and sides.

“Good job, Midoriya! You’re almost done!” cheered Mirio as all ten of his fingers descended on Izuku’s defenseless tummy again.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHH!!! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! STAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAPPP!!! IIIIIIIIIIIIIIHIHHAHHAHAHA!!! CAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHHANNNTTT!!!”

“You can, I believe in you!” claimed Mirio while his fingers crawled up Izuku’s abs all the way under his chest, and then back down.

“HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHA!!! IHIHIHIT’S SOOOHOHOHO TIHIHIHICKLIIIIHIHIHISH!!! HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! IHIHIH CAHAHAHAH!!! IIIII CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHHAHHAAA!!!”

Total meltdown. Izuku gave up, he had no choice but to, his mind melting into ticklish insanity as the machine lightly tickled his pits, ribs, sides, hips, and feet, seeming to make him even more sensitive to Mirio’s compassionate yet ruthless touches.

He laughed, and laughed, and laughed, unsure whether Mirio was still talking to him or if his mind was clinging to anything to preserve its integrity, his lungs on fire, his senses overrun by the tickles, unable to see under his own damp curls and tears…

He felt his arms go limp, seemingly having slipped through the restraints. No. The machine had let him go. Neither it nor Mirio were tickling him anymore, even as he still felt the horrid fuzz demanding his ticklish atonement all over his body.

This time, Mirio was really talking to him. “...done for real. Congratulations!”

izuku gave a sheepish nod. Was it over? Was it really over?

“Shall I pick you up?” offered Mirio, and Izuku, tickled into accepting anything, nodded again without thinking.

He felt Mirio’s wiry arms lift him up without effort, and though he maybe should have felt embarrassed - not like his classmates wouldn’t pick him up just because they could - all he felt was safe and relieved.

Mirio gently deposited him on the office chair. “You might want to shower again,” he recommended as he pointed to the sentences written in green on Izuku’s upperbody. But the green bean primarily wanted his ticklish spots out of sight, so he put on his t-shirt anyway.

Mirio retrieved his shoes for him and helped him out, sneaking a few tickles to his sole. Izuku collapsed back into the chair in a fit of happy giggles, but he didn’t pull his foot away, because he could tell the upperclassman would stop immediately, and he did.

“Sorry we had to put you through all that,” said Mirio as he clasped the greenette’s hand to help him stand up.

“I… deserved it,” conceded Izuku, exhausted but also kind of happy. As far as punishments went, intense though it was, it seemed to create no hard feelings.

Mirio retrieved his own duffel bag and walked to the exit with him. “You know, if Sir punishes me tomorrow for lying, you might be able to get your revenge,” he said with a conciliatory chuckle.

Izuku giggled. No, it was ok… “I just… might take you up… on that,” he surprised himself saying.

#mha tickle #bnha tickle #tickle content #tickletorture #tickle fic #ticklish!midoriya #lee!midoriya #ticklish!izuku #lee!izuku #ticklish!deku #lee!deku #ler!mirio

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sinsmockingbird · 16 days

Text

GOOD LUCK, BABE | Zoya

PAIRING: College!AU!Zoya x College!AU!Afab!Reader

WARNINGS: Smut, Angst, NSFW, Dom!Character, Sub!Reader, College!AU, Bad Girl!Zoya, Little Miss Perfect!Reader, Trans!Zoya, Zoya has a penis, Heavy Cheating, Reader is cheating on their boyfriend with Zoya, Jealousy, Hate Fucking, Fingering, Alludes to Unprotected Sex.

CREDITS: Credit to @sea-lanterns for making the banner

AUTHORS NOTE: Probably the longest fic I've ever written. I actually decided to change the ending to something else last minute, as I realized the original could be triggering. Instead, enjoy a very very sad (slightly rushed) ending.

YOUR AN epitome of perfection in the eyes of many.

From the students at the college you attend, to the professors and school staff, you were a woman who could do no wrong. You were the student council president of your prestigious college, the captain of the women's soccer team, and the school's debate team leader. You were involved in everything at your school, from the events being held to the various clubs and societies. You knew everyone and everyone knew you.

At least, everyone thought they knew you. But who could ever imagine that little miss perfect had chosen the college’s bad girl and the drummer of a band, as the person she would start an affair with?

◃───────────▹

It was late at night, about 1 in the morning. You were laying back in your bed, disheveled and trying to catch your breath while Zoya collapsed beside you, who was equally disheveled and out of breath. You weren’t sure how long you both had been going at it, but it was long enough for you to feel too sore to move.

“Too much?” Zoya’s voice cut through the air, a soft chuckle falling from her lips as she moved onto her side and wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you closer. You looked gorgeous in her eyes with that post orgasm glow to you.

You laughed softly at her question, pressing your body close to hers. “No. It was perfect.”

It was always perfect with Zoya. Whether you were having a quickie, a rough fucking, or even love making, it was always perfect. She just did everything right, and it was only made better with how well she’s learned your body.

“Good.” Zoya hummed in content, relaxing against your bed while holding you close. It was these moments she loved the most where it was just the two of you. No outside eyes, no knowledge of what you did known to others, just you and her in this relaxing silence.

“Are you coming to Chelsea’s party today?” You asked, tilting your head up to look at her, admiring every little detail of her face that you normally wouldn’t be able to.

“Mhm. Kinda have to.” Zoya answered, gazing down at you, the blue of her eyes more prominent in the soft darkness of your room. When you gave her a look, she quickly continued. “The band’s performing, at the request of Chelsea. So, yeah, I’m technically obligated to be there. Like you are.”

You simply hummed at her words, your eyes moving down to her chest. You raised a hand up, lightly tracing your fingers over the marks you had left over the hours of passion that you shared.

She was right about you being obligated to be at Chelsea’s party. She was not only one of your good friends but it was also the end of the year party, one of the biggest she hosts all year. Plus, you were miss perfect and popular, so everyone at school expected you to be there, and you being you wanting to maintain your image, always went.

Zoya watched you closely, recognizing when you were getting lost in your thoughts or contemplating something. So she gently placed one of her larger hands over yours, making your attention snap back to her. “You want me to take you?”

“No.” You quickly shook your head, your eyes looking away from her and into the darkness of your room. “Nate’s picking me up and we’re going together.”

Oh, she should have assumed that.

A frown quickly tugged at Zoya’s lips upon hearing your boyfriend’s name. You both had made rules between you both when your affair started, one of them being to never mention your boyfriend’s name. It was mainly because you didn’t want to think about him when you were with her, and Zoya hated to hear it as it was a cruel reminder that you weren’t hers. She hated him for that.

“Right.” Zoya mumbled, suddenly seeking sleep. She turned onto her back, staring up at the ceiling before forcing her eyes closed. She wanted the conversation to be over now, not wanting to be angry with you or anything. She could feel her jealousy boiling, making her seethe internally. “Should get sleep. We both have a busy day.”

“Zoya…” You whispered her name, looking up at her. But she didn’t respond, pretending to already be asleep. You sighed, feeling guilty now. So you just rested your head on her chest and closed your eyes, hoping sleep would take you quickly.

◃───────────▹

Chelsea’s parties were huge and grand. She came from a family with wealth, meaning she had big money to spend when it came to the parties she hosted, but no party was as big as the end of the year parties, especially this one considering it was your guy’s last year, so it was a celebration of your year’s graduation.

Every student on campus was there, making the place packed. You stuck close to Nate, who was luckily a huge guy that was able to make room for the both of you. You guys were standing at a ping pong table with a group of your closest friends. You were cheering on Donald, Nate’s best friend, who was going up against some jock guy that you could never remember the name of.

But you weren’t actually paying attention to the match going on in front of you. You were too busy scouring the sea of party goers in search for the familiar face of the woman who has taken up the majority of your thoughts. You still hadn’t seen her, and it was making you a bit restless. You wouldn’t even be able to walk over and talk with her in fear of suspicion starting that something was going on between you both, but you just wanted to see her, even if for a split second.

“-Baby?” You let out a startled breath as Nate tilted your head up towards him, his eyebrows furrowed together when he realized you weren’t hearing him, too lost in your own thoughts of… Zoya, not that he knew that.

“I-I’m sorry, what?” Your face grew hot as your attention moved to him, embarrassed at how distracted you were.

“I was asking you how you were feeling about graduation coming up.” Nate stated, searching your face for several long seconds, as if he was trying to discern what could be possibly going on in that head of yours. “Everything okay, baby?”

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, I was just- just thinking about mom coming tomorrow.” You quickly lied, plastering a smile on your face. You’ve learned how to fake a smile over the years.

Nate hummed your answer, believing that you were just thinking about and worrying about your mom coming tomorrow for your graduation. She was… an intense woman to say the least. She was the one always pushing you to be perfect, have great grades, and participate in more things than a person can handle. She always said it was to prepare you for the future and push you, but it only led you to stress over wanting to be a perfect daughter in her eyes.

“Don’t think about her. Focus on now, okay?” Nate whispered that more quietly to you, giving you a soft smile while squeezing your hand that he tightly held onto.

It was moments like these with him that made you feel awful, knowing that you fooled around with someone else behind his back.

Nate was an amazing guy, he really was. He excelled academically and was a prominent figure at your college that almost everyone looked up to, and was also the star football player that led the team to the championship on numerous occasions. He was also an amazing boyfriend, always picking you up from things, walking you to classes and even your dorm, no matter the time of day.

But he had a possessive nature, something you noticed as your relationship went on. He always had to be with you no matter what, going to your trainings, debates, and other events. You didn’t mind that he went with you to those things, but it was the fact it felt like he was preventing you from doing anything else that revolved around your college. He’d also push you to your limits when training for soccer, studying late into the night, and pushing you when it came to debates.

He was too much like your mother, and it hurt you every time you were reminded of that.

“And that’s another win!” Donald’s voice rang out over the cheers that followed, throwing the last plastic red cup aside and throwing his arms up in the air in celebration. Nate quickly looked to his best friend, congratulating him and patting him on the back and you smiled at him.

“Y/N!” Your attention was pulled away from the two males as Chelsea came running up to you, quickly grabbing your hand and pulling you away from Nate without even sparring him a glance. She never was a fan of him. “Come on, Serpent’s band is about to perform and I want you front and center beside me!”

“O-Okay-” You felt your face heat up at Chelsea’s words, stumbling behind her as she easily moved through the sea of people. You were gonna be front and center… in Zoya’s line of sight.

Chelsea was easily still clutching onto your hand as you made your way to the front of the small stage that was set up. The members of the band were already there, having finished setting up. Eleven was on the keyboard, focused on making sure it was right. Serpent was by the microphone, considering she was the lead singer, with her electric guitar ready, she immediately smiled brightly and waved at you and Chelsea. Bai Yi was by the drums, her bass ready as well, a smirk spreading across her face when she saw you, and you noticed her lean over the drum set.

Your heart was beating rapidly as Zoya perked up at whatever Bai Yi had said, her head immediately turning towards the gathered crowd, until they landed on you. You only gave her a small smile, one she returned, but you could tell she was holding herself back from waving at you. But she couldn’t do that, after all you both had to act like you didn’t really know each other. You couldn’t do anything that could make another person suspicious.

“Are you really just gonna give her a small smile?” Chelsea suddenly asked, leaning her mouth right by your ear and whispering so only you heard. It made you jump, immediately leaning away from her.

“Yes…” You muttered, giving Chelsea a warning look to not continue. She was one of the very select people that actually knew about you and Zoya’s affair. You had ended up telling her so you could have some cover for you for the times you’d steal moments with the woman.

Only Chelsea and Zoya’s bandmates knew, and you were going to keep it that way as long as you could.

Chelsea pouted slightly, giving you a look back that you couldn’t quite discern, before her attention was back on the stage as the music started. When the first song started, you were immediately enraptured by the music. You’ve heard Zoya’s band play before, and everytime you were blown away. At first you tried to focus on Serpent, or Eleven, or Bai Yi, trying to not look at the woman on the drums.

But eventually your eyes strayed to her. They always moved to Zoya like she was a magnet, screaming for your attention no matter where you were or what you were doing. She looked handsome sitting behind the drums, her hands moving up and down as played, finding her own rhythm in the song. Sometimes she’d twirl her drum sticks in her hands just to show off before continuing to play, and you could see a smile adorning her face as people in the crowd cheered.

Zoya never really admitted it, but she loved the attention, hearing fans singing along to their songs or cheering. She never felt more alive than on stage playing her drums with her band that had become her family. And it was only made better for her knowing you were in the crowd, in her direct line of sight. Her eyes almost never strayed away from yours when your attention was finally on her, and she was making it difficult for you to look away as her eyes just seemed to suck you in.

But every small moment like this had to be ruined.

Zoya felt her eye twitch and her lips flinched down into a frown as she watched Nate appear beside you, his arm quickly circling around your waist as he pulled you in close. Your attention was immediately off of her and onto him, a big smile spreading across your lips as you leaned up to kiss his cheek. She watched you laugh as he leaned down to whisper something into your ear, before kissing your head and turning his attention to the performance.

Gradually, Zoya began to hit the drums a lot harder as her anger and jealousy built up. She should have been the one to have an arm wrapped around you, be the one to place kisses on your head and face and have you smile up at her like you did with him. It was agony for her, a pain that grew every day, making the hole in her heart widen even more, a hole you caused because you’d never be able to fill your place in it.

As soon as the performance was done and Serpent thanked the crowd, Zoya was off the stage, her jaw clenched tight.

◃───────────▹

It had been an hour when you finally decided to leave the party, exhausted from the whole thing and having to put up a front the whole time. You convinced Nate you could walk back to your dorm on your own, considering it wasn’t too far down from the sorority houses. The walk was something you needed, the cold air feeling nice on your face. You felt relaxed, but also felt empty, an emptiness you couldn’t help but take notice of whenever you weren’t with Zoya.

Thinking of Zoya, you remembered how quickly she was off the stage after the performance ended, and it made you bite your lip. You wondered how hard you had screwed up and upset her, if you even were responsible for it (you were). You decided that once you were at your dorm, you’d make a plan to see her the next day and check in on her.

But it seemed Zoya had her own plans of seeing you earlier than that, as she was waiting for you in your dorm room when you entered.

“I thought you would have stayed a bit longer at the party.” Zoya stated, sitting at the chair at your desk, checking her nails and not even looking at you as you entered and shut the door, the sound of the lock turning echoing inside her head.

“I was planning to leave a little after your band’s performance.” You answered, biting your bottom lip as your eyes moved up and down her body, noting how she seemed a little too relaxed.

Zoya then stood up, her figure already towering over you as she walked towards you, and you tried to read her eyes to gauge how she was feeling. “You and Nate seemed to be having a lot of fun during it.”

You clenched your jaw at the name of your boyfriend, narrowing your eyes just slightly at her. “Isn’t one of our rules to not mention him?”

“Heh.” Zoya couldn’t help but chuckle softly at your reminder, briefly looking to the ground before placing a hand on your chest and gently, but firmly pushing you back against the wall, her lips grazing your ear. “Says the girl who mentioned him last night.”

With those words, Zoya slammed her lips against yours, silencing anything that you were about to say. You immediately melted into it, your arms wrapping around her neck before you pulled her closer, opening your mouth to deepen the kiss, something she was all too willing to allow.

Zoya pushed her tongue inside your mouth, exploring it like she always did while her hands landed on your hips, pushing you more firmly back against the wall. Then she was kicking your feet apart with her foot, before slotting one of her legs between yours. A moan immediately fell from yours lips as her knee pressed up against you.

“Zoya…” You whimpered, moaning a little more as she began to grind her knee against the area you wanted her most.

“That’s right, moan my name, baby.” Zoya growled, her lips moving down your jaw and to your neck, quickly kissing as much as she could and lightly nipping at your skin. She so badly wanted to leave a mark on you, but she knew she couldn’t, and it only annoyed her.

You did as she asked, continuing to moan her name and throw your head back, resting it back against the door as you focused on the feeling of her knee grinding up against you just right. Though it wasn’t enough, and you whimpered softly, one of your hands moved down to grab one of her’s. You brought it to the waistband of your pants, silently urging her to slip it past the barrier of clothing.

Zoya growled at the action, a sound that made you shiver and bit your lip. She sounded so primal, like a wolf about to devour its prey, and you were a willing victim to it as she slipped her hand by the waistband. You gasped as soon as her calloused fingers made contact with you, sending a jolt of pleasure through your spine.

“Fuck, your so wet.” Zoya mumbled, feeling you already slick like you had become wet the second you entered your dorm room and saw her, which was the case.

“All for you-!” You bit down on your bottom lip as she easily slipped two fingers inside you, making you feel full. “Yes, yes-!”

The sound of your moans and the slick sound emitting from your pussy as she fingered you was like music to Zoya’s ears, a song she was addicted to. Her thumb circled your clit, while her fingers continued to pump in and out, making you curse and arch your back, pushing yourself further into her. She wanted- no needed to hear more from you. She needed to hear you scream her name.

“Scream my name.” Zoya husks out, her breath hitching as she feels your walls tightening around her fingers. “Let me know how good I’m making you feel.”

“S-So good, Z-Zoya!” You tried to speak, finding it harder as you neared your climax, your gut tightening making you whine a needy sound, a sound only she could make. “C-Cumming… p-please let me cum..!”

A tear rolls down your face as the pleasure builds up to a point it’s almost painful, and it makes Zoya’s smirk widen a bit more as she goes back to kissing your neck. She hums against your skin, her tempo increasing, leaving you more numb with pleasure. But she doesn’t say anything, simply focusing on pleasuring you.

Eventually you can’t hold back anymore, and cum around her fingers with a scream of her name, “Zoya!”

Your body arches into her’s, your head falling forward and onto her shoulder as the waves of pleasure leave your body weak and shaking. Zoya immediately supports you as you collapse against her body, her arm tightening around your waist and pulling you closer. She pulls her hand from your pants and brings them up to her mouth, quickly sucking your cum off them. The sight makes your pussy pulse, but you're too exhausted to act on it.

Zoya easily picks you up in her arms, carrying you over to your bed and gently laying you down. She moves to unwrap herself from you and pull away, only for you to grab her shirt to stop her, whispering, “Please stay, Zoya…”

Your words make her freeze, leading her to debate whether to stay or leave like she planned. But she looks down at your face, seeing you had already begun to fall asleep, your eyes closed. Then she can’t bring herself to leave your side, so with a heavy sigh, she climbs into your bed with you, quickly wrapping her arms around your body and pulling you against her.

Zoya gazes down at your now sleeping face, raising a hand up and gently brushing some hair away before caressing your face. You looked so beautiful and at peace, for once looking relaxing and content while being in her arms. You didn’t have to pretend around her, you were vulnerable and it made her feel special knowing you felt comfortable enough to not put up that front of yours that you had around everyone else.

She wished you could be like that not just behind closed doors with her. She wished she wouldn’t ruin your perfect image by holding your hand in public and kissing your cheek. If she had it her way she would do all of that with you, and maybe it was selfish considering she didn’t care about image. But you did, and she had to respect that openly being with her would ruin it.

For her, keeping your affair a secret was easy for her, but after so long, genuine feelings began to form and she found herself thinking about you every second of the day. She thought of your eyes, your smile, the sound of your laugh and the way you would chew on your bottom lip when you were focused. She noticed every little thing you did, and it was that knowledge that made her realize that you were more than just a person she slept around with.

She needed to tell you how she really felt, because the weight of knowing she had to keep this thing a secret was beginning to weigh heavily on her. She had to say something, because she yearned for the day when she didn’t have to conceal her feelings or hide her presence, or act like she didn’t know you when in reality she knew you better than anyone else.

Was it really too much to ask for?

◃───────────▹

Everytime Zoya tried to confess her feelings to you, something would happen or come up, leaving you to either leave or leave her too afraid to actually say anything. She never felt so weak or scared before until she was faced with a situation where she could finally tell you that she loved you. It went on for two more months, and your affair was still going and was still secret. Now graduation was upon you guys, happening the next day when Zoya received news that utterly tore her apart and left her feeling so cold and heartbroken.

“You didn’t know? Nate and Y/N are getting married.”

The words echoed in her head like a plague, leaving her wanting to claw at her skin and sink into herself and just break down. She found herself at a bar and hung out there late into the night, drinking down beer after beer all to try and numb the pain she was feeling. By 3 in the morning she wasn’t in a coherent state, her mind fogged with alcohol as she stumbled through campus. All that was on her mind was you, and it was why she found herself knocking loudly on your dorm room so late.

You opened the door, rubbing sleep out of your eyes, before they widened when you saw her standing on the other wide, reeking of alcohol, and weakly holding onto the door frame to keep herself up right. “Zoya-”

“When were you gonna tell me?” Her voice cut through you like a knife, leaving you frozen as she stared you down with anger and hurt swirling inside her eyes. You’d never seen her so… broken, and that’s how you knew that this was about.

“I’m sorry…” Was all you could say back in response as tears welled up in your eyes, your hands beginning to shake along with your whole body.

“Engaged?” Zoya stated, looking at you with pure hurt as she leaned slightly towards you. “You didn’t tell me…”

You remembered when Nate had proposed to you a couple days ago. It was when you were at dinner with both of your families, celebrating the final debate you participated in. Suddenly Nate had dropped down onto one knee in front of you, holding out a ring and asking the words, “Will you marry me?”

How were you supposed to say no when you felt everyone’s eyes on you, when you felt your mother’s eyes on you. The weight of maintaining the image of the perfect daughter, the expectations, and the pressure of the entire situation weighed heavily on your shoulders, leading you to saying yes.

You didn’t keep it a secret that you were engaged to him now. You were planning to tell Zoya, you really were, but you had been so busy that week that you weren’t able to find time to meet with her. But you didn’t want her to find out this way, because it now leads Zoya to your dorm room, alcohol heavy on her and intoxication clear in her glassy eyes.

“I did everything you wanted!” Zoya suddenly yelled, her voice cracking in anger and pain. “I followed your stupid rules, your demands. I stayed away from you when you asked me to just to keep our-” She stopped, letting out a laugh and looking away with a shake of her head, stopping herself from uttering the word “relationship.”

As far as Zoya knew, you weren’t even a couple, just two people who fucked.

You had your head hung low, staring at the ground while Zoya entered your dorm, beginning to pace back and forth while you quietly shut the door. She was muttering some things to herself, tugging at her hair before suddenly punching the wall. The hit made you jump and squeeze your eyes shut, tears falling freely down your face.

Zoya’s anger was justified, which is why you didn’t stop her as her fist collided with the wall until there was a hole. You wanted to stop her, in fear of her hurting herself, but you just couldn’t. All you could do was stand there in your guilt.

“Y-You know. I played along… to have you.” Zoya whimpered out, leaning her head against the wall, tears welling up in her eyes as her anger was quenched for now. Her hand ached, shaking in pain at her side, her knuckles split open and bleeding, but she paid no attention to it.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, her confession cutting into your heart like a knife, leaving you shaking uncontrollably, tears falling rapidly down your face. The guilt was prominent inside your body, eating away at you.

“I just wanted you to be mine.” Zoya whispered, tears falling from her eyes as she turned towards you slowly. “I love you.”

There it is, those three words that held so much pointless weight in the end. It left you gasping for air between your sobs, your head snapping up to Zoya and staring at her with wide eyes. You always hoped to hear her say them, but you knew you shouldn’t have, knowing it wouldn’t make you change the secrecy of your affair. In the end it wouldn’t change anything, just like how it won’t change anything now.

Zoya then approached you, and with every step she took, you took a step to retreat, until your back hit the wall and she was quick to cage you in between her arms. “But you were never mine to begin with.” She gives you a sad smile, finally coming to terms with that fact. The engagement ring on your finger was proof of it, after all. “Now I have to live with that fact…”

You looked away from her, wrapping your arms around yourself in a protective manner, while trying to make yourself look small. Zoya raised a hand up, gently dragging your chin and tilting your head up until you had no choice but to look at her. She was crying, just like you, and the knowledge of knowing that you were the reason behind her tears made you whimper.

When your attention was on her, she grabbed your one hand and slipped your engagement ring off of your finger, examining it. “Engaged…” She whispered softly, finally letting that fact register in her head.

Then Zoya dropped the ring, letting it fall to the ground, and before you could process it, her lips were on yours. Her lips were soft, feeling familiar and bringing a warmth to your chest that you knew you didn’t deserve. You kissed one another like you were the only reason for each other breathing. You kissed her like this was the end… because it was.

One final night with one another couldn’t hurt, right? Just a night to say goodbye.

Finding yourself back on your bed, naked with Zoya on top of you left you feeling numb with pain. Your mind was only filled with her. The feeling of her body against yours, her lips on your neck, while her hips moved against yours. It was the same like all those other nights you both spent together, except it was different because this was the end.

When you both reached your peak, with Zoya releasing inside you, you felt complete for the first time in your life, but that feeling wasn’t going to last after this. Zoya had her head resting on your chest, listening to the sound of your gradually calming heartbeat, her arms circled around your waist. Your hands moved through her hair as you stared up at the ceiling of your dorm, tears rolling down your face.

You eventually fell asleep, and once you were, Zoya forced herself out of your bed. She grabbed her clothes and slowly got dressed, running a hand through her hair before looking back at your sleeping form. Her feet moved on her own as she crouched down beside your bed, reaching a hand out to tuck some hair behind your ear, before leaning forward and placing one final kiss onto your lips, murmuring a few final words before getting up and leaving, never looking back.

“Good luck, babe.”

ENDING NOTES: So, one question. Part 2?

#*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟsins writings #path to nowhere #ptn smut #ptn angst #zoya #ptn!zoya #dom!zoya #zoya x reader #zoya x you #good luck babe

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iamjellyfish · 2 months

Text

-`,✎The Idol Soldier-`,✎

❥ Author note: Hello:) this is my first fic! I suck at naming fics so it will be straight to the point! I should work on pin post first but my Soshiro brainrot needs to be fed! Thanks whoever got the idea of the reader being an idol TvT Ily!

❥ Summary: You're the famous and beloved idol of Japan! Jelly is your idol's name and a certain vice-captain is obsessed with you! Little did he know, that you joined the JAKDC for an appreciation song idea. He didn't realize it was you even though you only wear glasses!

❥Part: 1 you're already here:) ❥ Warning: English is not my first language, rejection, angst-make up, you fall first - he falls harder, simp Soshiro, oh yea very long ahh yapping from me:3... OOC?

Everyone is grateful for what JAKDC has done for society, and because of that, your producer thinks it might be good to make an appreciation song for them. You of course don't mind, but idol-fighting kaiju is something very fictional, to be honest. Of course, you panic about the examination test, what if you fail so misery?! The media would have a good laugh about you!

So you study hard for the writing test and have to pick up extra martial arts practice class because you're not sure if your current strength can get you in. It's not so bad for the most part, your normal idol practice makes this easier a bit, you kind of understand since it was famous that idol practice would be very hard and strict.

The day came, and you looked around to see how others doing, you could recognize the son of the famous Izumo Tech company, the famous Kikoru Shinomiya, and others who all seemed to have a lot of experience in this field, it made you a bit left out and odd out? At least better than standing out by being an idol. You disguise yourself with glasses because you were too panicked about the exam after you researched its rates to get in, lose sleep, and haven't had the time to prepare a better disguise to work with. So with glasses and a simple hair-down style, you somehow successfully disguise yourself, you kind of guess it's the Superman effect that you saw on the internet. But when you see Kafka chasing Kikoru in the field you wonder if your fans recognized you, would they do the same? You managed to get 21% on the suit though, your lucky number! Jelly had got into JAKDC!

❥Hoshina Soshiro's side!

Oh how much he loves his Jelly! The life of fighting kaiju is pretty stressful and when that happens, he finds himself listening to your songs. Jelly always encourages people to chase their dreams, to love, and to keep going, that's what makes him a Jellybean(fan name). He always feels left out because of his using blades and used to feel discouraged fighting kaiju with blades but you somehow always cheer him up! Hoshina Soshiro, the man who stays up at midnight waiting for the moment your concert ticket is available on the website, he will immediately buy it. The man who had one of the biggest Jellybean pages and posts about you in his free time.

Jelly announce she had the merch made a return and will be available to buy on XXX to XXX.

Of course, he would buy more of the merch even if he already had it! Hoshina Soshiro would use half his paycheck just to buy your merch, you know those crazy amounts of merch on a shrine of idol images? His shrine already goes viral once (nobody knows that the shrine is his).

He would also listen to your music a lot when he is doing his paperwork. Sometimes you would catch him humming your music while goes on patrol. He definitely talks about Jelly with Okonogi a lot and totally makes a jellybean club at the JAKDC!

They would roast the hell outta your antifan!

❥ current time: You sometimes hang out with Kafka in the library and since you trade secrets with the old man, he knows you're an idol, and you know he is a kaiju. You would now freely write your song lyrics while he doing his things. Tonight, accidentally watch the vice-captain training at night with Kafka. Oh man, he is so hot, his muscular figure got you good. You had silently got a crush on him for a while now. Reason? His voice is so hot, he has a good figure, and he is so cool. You did laugh at the old man for getting overwhelmed by Hoshina in battle but now if it was you, you would get overwhelmed too. Before the vice-captain recognizes your existence, you already dash back to your room using your dodging and runway from paparazzi skillsets, perks being an idol? Probably not. You could feel Kafka's annoyance for leaving him there with the vice-caption.

So after a while, you got along with everyone, especially Kafka's group. And you are encouraged by them to confess your love for the vice-captain. Even though you're unsure, your time at the defense force is running out and you can't keep hiding your feelings and probably never meet him again, you already have to leave on Monday so you have to shoot your shot quick. So you ask him to meet you on the rooftop at the end of the day...

"Um... Vice-captain..."

You spoke, anxiety filled your chest as you turned around and looked him in the eyes. Your heart felt heavy and you were so afraid of rejection, but even if you get rejected, you can't complain you were only here a few months and your idol life is unstable for love life since scandals about idols having lovers happened all the time. So in the warm radiation of sunset, you decided to confess with all your heart.

"Yes? Why did you call me here?" Hoshina said he looked a bit concerned since you sounded so afraid and ill too at the same time. He seems to kind of guess that you would confess since you kind of make it obvious by getting him gifts, letters, and sweets. You were a sweet one and he didn't want you to get hurt so he had to calculate how to reject you without making it sting, he had feelings for you too but the kaiju fighting life is no guarantee that he can make it or survive, he might even hurt your sweetheart even more if he doesn't reject.

"Vice-captain Hoshina, I really really like you!" You said with your heart out and your face basically blushes like tomatoes. You breathe slowly, ready for the worst, you keep telling yourself that you are ready for this. With the hope that at least the fall would be light, you waited for the results. Hoshina just sighed a little and then said in a usual upbeat voice.

"Sorry, but my heart belongs to Jelly! I'm a loyal Jellybean so I can't return your feelings." He smiled and you could see his little fangs out, before you could react, patted your shoulder while leaving and you could hear him say from afar "Keep up the good work though!". And you're kinda just standing there, surprised 'cause you don't really think that he likes you Jelly. That day, you were crying to Okonogi about it. "Shhh...Shhh y/n, you will find someone too! Hoshina is too obsessed with Jelly, don't worry there will be someone else better than Hoshina!" She said trying to calm you down, and you cried so hard that the glasses were all blurry and wet so you took off your glasses, wiped them, and tried your best to smile brightly at her after really thinking through it, since it was fine after all, at least you got a cool person as your fan. "Thank you a lot Okonagi-san! I really need it!" You got kind of confused when she kept staring at you with a calculating look. "You're Jelly right y/n?" "Eh-... Yea.." You ended up having to tell her about the whole song thing. "I'm already done writing the whole album so I will probably quit on Monday. Please keep a secret though!" You plead, since if the tea got spilled, you would definitely get yelled at by the producer. You kind of trying to manipulate her by using her sparkly idol eyes in the hope that she would keep it a secret, was it an ass move? Yes, but you're desperate.

"I'm not sure though... this secret is a bit too much..!" Okonogi said, waving her arms to signal she is very unsure of this. You sigh and then pop right back up saying. "It's fine! At least keep it 'till Monday alright?" You hand her a Jelly with a chat bubble "Thank you" keychain then leave before she can reject.

Glad that your producer handled the resignation process from the JAKDC because you had no strength left to look at the captain and vice-captain the last time. You packed your stuff and are ready to leave as your friends, especially Kafka all tearing eyes about you leaving. You were waiting for the company's car to come to pick you up so you didn't even bother to disguise yourself but Vice-captain Hoshina approached you. With hands in the pocket, he kind of tries to pick up the conversation but the awareness fills the air. "So, y/n or Jelly. Okonogi told me about you..." He said as she held out his phone with Okonogi's messages, her nickname was "The Nerd Jellybean 🤓☝". Not gonna lie, you almost laugh out loud at the nickname.

The Nerd Jellybean 🤓☝: You might wanna know this.

The Nerd Jellybean 🤓☝ has sent two attachments.

It's a picture of you in your idol outfit and your disguised self with red circles pointing at the similarity.

The Nerd Jellybean 🤓☝: If that isn't enough proof... The Nerd Jellybean 🤓☝ has sent two attachments.

It's a document of the similarity between you and your idol self, "She even has receipts on me, that's scary." you think to yourself as you look at the last messages.

The Nerd Jellybean 🤓☝: You still might have a chance though. Try to catch up.

"Hm... well at least still kept her secret."

You said, you certainly didn't expect that but you guess it was fine. Though, seeing the person you secretly admire standing before you... You of course very happy. But a part of you thinks if he comes here for the confession, does he really love you as you or because you're Jelly?

This is definitely not the first time you encounter something like this... People only love you because you're an idol or Jelly. You don't think he is that type of person but who knows? "Y/n, please stay in contact. I will be honest with you since we might never get to talk like this again because you're an idol and stuff but meh... I think you're very sweet, even as Jelly, you take my hand and pull me out of the shadow." He said, with stars in his eyes. No, it was you that was in his eyes, his star, his idol, his Jelly. He held your hands, his hold was tight, not that it hurt but it definitely surprised you. You could hear him rambling on and on about how you had saved him somehow. You feel very happy, you know you have cheered people on with your songs but hearing it from your fan, from him makes your heart beat faster. "But my life-fighting kaiju is not stable, I could die anytime and I don't want you to suffer because of it. So even if I don't want to, I still have to let you go." He said, you could see sadness in his eyes. Oh how you hate it, no, no... It can't end like this. You won't allow it. The next thing the vice-captain knows is that his dream of kissing has come true. You basically jump on him and put your soft lips on him, it was warmth and he thought this was a dream. "I changed my mind, I want to stay with you Hoshina! I won't allow you to push me away! I want us to try, to be together!" You said you hugged him tight, and you held your tears. He returns the hug and then quickly looks at you with worry on his face while he has a hand on the back of his neck and says.

"But you already submit your resignation paper. How can you stay?" You smirk at him with a devilish expression, as a jellybean, he knows that this means Jelly will pull something that could put everyone in trouble. You take out your phone and text your producer to help you stay and somehow make that resignation paper invalid. You kind of expect she would be annoyed and get mad at you but didn't think she would send you a very long ahhh email yelling at you.

"And, now Hoshina is my boyfriend and I can stay." You declare, as you hold his hand and move it on your cheek. You know this is a very bold decision, but in the end, you still had an idol career, and fighting kaiju while being an idol is like a weird combination but you wanted to try. Try and balance both out, because you found someone you love. Right now, staying with Hoshina makes you feel something you have never felt before, and you will let the present open itself for you to see what is inside.

"I already got things under control, so let's go on a date!" You said with excitement eyes full of stars and smiling at him with warmth, Hoshina opened his eyes to take on all that radiating sunshine deep in his memory and laughed, he never thought he'd see this side of Jelly, he knew from those shows and series that you're a ball of sunshine who would cause some kind of trouble that makes everyone laugh. But now? You're much more and he wanted to learn more. You laugh with him, that is what he remembers clearly to this day.

To be continued...

A/N: omg, I hope my write fic isn't a disaster:) I will learn to improve my writing the next time:D

#kaiju no. 8 #kaiju no 8 #hoshina soshiro x reader #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro #soshiro hoshina #congrats you found a new writer that I had no idea what they're doing!#kn8 x reader #kn8

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