#also readers who just leave comments regardless >>>>>>>>

[ladykyriaa]

Readers when they leave rambly comments >>>>>>>

[baepsays]

I'D GIVE YOU EVERYTHING (I JUST WANT TO SEE YOU WIN)⸻ preview

pairing⋙ post Shinjuku clan leader Gojo x non-sorcerer reader

cw⋙ canon divergence, nsfw, clan and jujutsu world politics, Gojo with scars, arranged marriage, one sided conflict, one sided pining, eventual both sided pining, slow burn, they are both a little stupid about e/o (more to be added in the eventual release)

a/n: this is only a preview, if you would liked to be added to the tag list please leave a comment below the series masterlist, which is linked at the end^^

SERIES MASTERLIST . NEXT CHAPTER>>

On rare, yet day by day more frequent occasions, like today, you would be sitting opposite your husband over lunch.

It was not often you sat down in a room with Satoru without any reason, in fact you can count on one hand how many times you have done that. So waiting for lunch to be served on a comically large dining table, sitting on the very opposite end from him, was new. It was awkward enough to share any meal other than the scheduled dinner with him, that too he always left much earlier than you, thankfully. 

Who knows what it was? Was it his engulfing cologne clogging your nose, disabling you from smelling the food served in front of you. Or simply the annoyingly perfect sight of him, so casually eating like it was the most natural thing to do—while you sat there, a nervous wreck. But regardless, you did not seem to have any appetite. Which was apparent enough for even Satoru to notice that across from the table.

“Is there anything on your plate that you don’t like? I can ask the chef to make you something else?” there was, as if, a genuine concern in his voice. For you, that was simply weird.

“Oh. No, I am fine. I just had a snack earlier.” The poorly told lie was not one to pass Gojo Satoru or his six eyes. But for you he was willing to make an excuse. 

“Is that so? I think I am done as well.” It was a risky tactic he was employing, trying to bait you with guilt was low even for him. 

“But you’ve barely started!?” “And you barely had any breakfast. I am more than sure if I asked anyone here what fulfilling snack you had, the answer would be underwhelming.”

For a few seconds he sat there assessing if he had pissed you off again. As invigorating as it is to mildly anger you, he would not have that at the cost of your meal. To his relief without any more protest you went back to your plate to take a proper mouthful bite.

If anyone tested Satoru’s patience as you did, as well as avoided him as skillfully as you have; it would have ended up not as kindly as it has been with you. He has been trying to give you space, to let you breathe, and foster a home for yourself, in his house.

But in the last month, he has found himself to enjoy invading your space rather more. It made him ecstatic to hear your voice panic a little when he would pick up your routinely strategic calls instead of missing them. He does think even you have to admit two and a half rings are far too less before hanging up on someone, also he did not appreciate Ichiji asking him what he would like for dinner instead of you. You made this new habit, you must be the one to ask as well. 

“What would you like for the chef to prepare tonight?” 

“Hmm?” he looked a little dumbfounded at your sudden question, was it not enough you were infiltrating his mind and now you are reading his thoughts as well? Upon acclimating with the situation, he sees his own and your empty plates. I supposed he finished his meal while he was too busy thinking of, well, about you. 

“I mean, what do you want for dinner?” you ask once again, in hopes of a more clear answer. But god forbid your husband ever gave you a desirable answer to your questions.

“You.”

NEXT CHAPTER>>

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honestly only doing a preview because i want to release this before the end of this month (does not seem possible anytime soon lol this will be a long one) )and i have been in a very foul mood since Friday and classes start soon so maybe this little preview and some pressure will make me write the actual thing much faster. hope you guys enjoyed it. this is another self indulgent piece i just do not see people making a satisfactory (imo, to my taste, there is not a lot of clanleader depiction of Gojo to begin with) clan head Gojo so i am personalizing him to my taste. because he gives me brainrot.

a/n: divider by @/saradika-graphics.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Sukuna

[Chapter 12] Reunion

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Pairing: Trueform!Sukuna x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi - Bluesky

You know why he’s doing this. He has wit. He wants you to get your mind off the fact that another woman is pregnant with his child. It’s not a fact that can be easily forgotten, but he played his cards just right. Maybe it’s that, or perhaps it’s the fact that you aren’t all that bothered by the revelation. 

In the beginning you worried about your position, but he reassured you that nothing will happen to you. So now you’re just taking the opportunity to see your family, who you’ve so longed to see. Though you’ll admit, you’re nervous. You wonder how different they’ll see you after they see you in the position you’re in. 

You’re much heavier and rounder than before– Not to gloss over the fact that you carry a monster’s babies. Will they be disgusted by you? Frightened? Or will they understand that you sacrificed yourself for their wellbeing? 

Luckily, the worry doesn’t overshadow the excitement that flows through your body. You ask Hina to help you get ready, attempting to look the best that you can today. But you’re also mindful, refusing to wear any jewelry that shows off just how much wealth is in your possession. 

“Why aren’t they allowed in the palace?” You ask as Hina fixes your clothes. She smooths out any wrinkles visible in the clot, ensuring you look your best for the visit.

“King Sukuna doesn’t like peasants that have nothing to offer in the palace.” Hina answers without hesitation, and you almost laugh. You could’ve guessed as much. “Isn’t it nice, my queen? Being able to travel outside the palace?”

“It is. I’m surprised Sukuna allowed it.” You comment, and she can’t do anything but hum in response. She doesn’t have an explanation for that. “I’m assuming I won’t be alone.”

“You’re never alone, my queen.” She responds, which aren’t the words you want to hear. Regardless, you’re excited to be outside of the palace for a couple of hours– Actually outside the walls, not just strolling through the garden.

“We’ll take gifts, no? To make sure they’re well taken care of.” You suggest, as Hina finishes up.

“Yes. They’re all in the carriage.” She informs you. Sukuna has ensured everything is perfect for today while he… You have no idea what he’s doing. He’s probably figuring out how to take care of her, and you try not to think about it.

You try not to think about it because an ugly feeling seeps into your veins, and you don’t want to feel it. You can’t quite describe it, but it’s close to jealousy. But you wouldn’t call it jealousy. 

“Do you think they’ll view me differently?” You question, your hand going over your bump. You already know the answer. One way or another, they’ll think of you differently. 

“You’re a queen now, of course they do.” She says, which isn’t what you need to hear. But she’s right. “However, if you want me to say no, then I’ll say no.”

“No, you’re right.” You sigh. “Whether I like it or not, I’m someone different now.”

“Are you taking Yuuji with you?” She slightly changes the topic, wanting to cheer you up. The mention of the baby makes you smile, and you end up humming in response. You can’t leave him behind while you’re meeting your family, after all, he’s an essential part of your life now. “I’ll tell the servants to get him ready then.”

Needless to say, Sukuna’s presence is still present even when you’re in the carriage. You’re accompanied by three other servants, one of them being Hina. You wanted to be alone with your family, but it’s obviously impossible. You can’t complain though, this is more than what you could’ve asked for. 

“Can we get out of the carriage before we enter the village? I don’t want to draw attention.” You ask, and Hina laughs. She can’t wrap her head around the fact that you don’t want the people of your village to know of your wealth. 

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.” Hina responds, making you sigh. Maybe it’s for the best. Your feet are too swollen to walk and you’re carrying a baby that’s months old. The news of you coming back to the village will soar either way, there’s no point in not trying to draw attention to you. 

“How will you introduce him?” Hina asks, watching as you bounce the baby to keep him calm in the carriage. You smile at the baby who chews on his hands, attempting to soothe the pain in his gums.

“My son.” You answer, hand caressing his chubby cheek. He’s gained a lot of weight in your care, which is relieving to see– You can only hope that your Haru has gained as much weight as Yuuji. 

The rest of the ride is quiet. You feel your heartbeat grow faster, excitement flourishing with the thought that you’re back home. It’s a shame that this is what it took, regardless, you’re happy to be back home.

The carriage comes to a halt, and the door opens. Your eyes fall on the small shack that your family lives in, and your eyes well up with tears. This is it. You’re finally home. 

“I’ll take the baby, my queen.” Hina holds out her arms to take Yuuji from you, and you don’t hesitate before doing so. You need all the balance and support possible before getting out, a task that’s difficult given your current state.

You safely get out, almost having to catch your breath at the simple task. The twins have gotten too heavy, you don’t even want to imagine how hard it’s going to be on you the next couple of weeks. It almost makes you wish for them to come faster… But then you remember the huge responsibility that comes with that, and the pain in your lower back doesn’t seem as bad.

“What’s all the commo–” The door to the house opens, your aunt stopping in her tracks when she sees you. Your eyes well up with tears at the sight of her, and a subtle smile coming to your face. You imagined this emotional moment where you would jump into her arms and hug her until your arms couldn’t hold any more, but you can’t bring yourself to even shuffle your feet. 

She smiles, walking over to you and cupping your face. She holds back the same tears as you do before she engulfs you in a hug. You hear her whisper, “I’m so happy to see you’re okay, my dear.”

“I’ve missed you.” You murmur as you hug her back. And for the longest moment you hold her, just as you imagined; until the cries from Yuuji cut the moment short.

“And who is this?” She asks when she pulls away, eyes falling on Yuuji. You take the baby from Hina’s arms, bouncing him before you tell her,

“My son.” Which she furrows her brows to. Before she can ask any questions you tell her, “He was… Abandoned, and I took him under my care.”

“And your babies. How are you doing?” She questions, hands going to your bump. Now you’re the confused one at her words.

“How do you–” You begin, and she lets out a sigh.

“We’ve gotten some updates from the deity. Before your condition he would often come with goods, but then you became with child and he’d send a servant whenever he could.” She explains, a small detail that Sukuna never mentioned. Something you can’t be mad about.

“How about Haru? Where is he?” You ask, eyes attempting to look inside to find him, but your narrow view provides nothing. 

“Come inside, you can’t be out in the cold like this.” She tells you, even though you have countless layers keeping you warm. You hum in response, following behind her. You worry if everyone will fit inside considering how many servants accompany you.

“Haru! Won’t you come greet your older sister?!” Your aunt shouts as you make your way inside, and you feel your heart race. You pass Yuuji back to Hina, getting ready to hug your little brother.

“Huh?” You hear his confused little voice, the biggest smile coming to your face. Not too long ago that response would’ve taken every last bit of his energy. You walk inside the home, and you watch as your little brother’s eyes widen in amazement.

“Haru.” You smile at him, the tears that have welled up in your eyes managing to spill. The first thing you notice is that his cheeks are chubby again. He’s taller. He’s smiling. He has color again. Life has been brought back to his body. 

He yells your name as he runs over to you, hugging you as tight as he can. His arms can’t hug much considering you’re much rounder. Any other time you’d pick him up and spin him around, but he’s too heavy to pick up right now.

“How are you, Haru? It’s been a while.” You ask him, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. 

“I’m fine!” He answers, pulling away from the hug. His eyes stare at your belly before he looks up at you. He can’t help but comment, “You’re big.”

You chuckle. “I am carrying twins.”

“Twins?” He asks, shocked at your words, and you hum in response. Though the amazement fades as his interest shifts, noticing that he’s not the youngest in the room. He points at the baby that Hina holds and asks, “Who’s that?”

“My son.” You respond, and the amazement takes over again.

“You have a whole baby?” He questions and you laugh before nodding in response. Maybe you’ll explain it to him when he’s a little older, but now you’ll just go with that thought. “And you’re having two more?”

“Yeah, it’s about to be a full house soon.” You answer, and Haru’s eyebrows come together.

“Is that why you don’t come around?” He pouts, and you can’t help but share the same reaction as him. If it were up to you, he’d be by your side always.

“You know the deity explained this to us, Haru.” Your aunt steps in, not wanting the cheerful moment to dull down. “We should be glad that she’s here.”

“Fine.” He huffs and puffs. “Glad you’re here, I guess.”

“Now don’t get an attitude with me.” You attempt to be serious, but you can’t help but have a lighthearted tone. You just got back home, you can’t start scolding him just yet.

He sticks his tongue out and blows a raspberry, making you roll your eyes. A laugh follows quickly after, realizing that you’re finally home. You’ll be gone soon, but that doesn’t matter. You’ll make sure that you enjoy every last second in your home.

“If you get an attitude then I won’t give you the gifts I brought with me.” You tell him, and his ears perk up.

“What did you bring?” His tone becomes more cheerful, making you laugh.

“What didn’t I bring?” You respond, and you look back at the servants that have accompanied you. You don’t have to speak, they already know that you want them to bring everything in. 

Haru hugs you again and tells you, “I’m happy you’re back.”

“I’m happy to be back.” Your hand ruffles his hair, feeling a tug in your heartstrings at the sheer reminder that you’ll be gone just as quickly. 

“Why don’t you take a seat, dear? Your feet must be killing you.” Your aunt speaks up, and you laugh. She read your mind. “You look like you’re about to pop any day soon.”

“I’m due in the spring.” You answer, taking up on her offer and taking a seat. 

“Spring is just around the corner.” She points out, and you sigh. That’s the last thing you want to think about. 

“How about you guys? I hope things have been good in my absence.” You change the topic, though you already know the answer. Your aunt told you all you needed to know about their situation. Sukuna has kept them well.

“With the deity coming around, things have been flourishing.” She tells you, and you sheepishly smile. You’re happy knowing that your sacrifice was worth it. Not only is your Haru doing great, but they’re seeing abundance at a rate that your family has never been able to achieve. “And you, my dear? How are things with the deity?”

“They’re… Good.” You say, not wanting to explain the ups and downs of your life with Sukuna. You certainly don’t want to confess the ruckus that your life is in right now.

“What’s the name of your baby?” Haru asks as he sits down beside you. He cuddles up next to you and you welcome him with open arms.

“Hina, please take a seat.” You tell her, noticing that she stands still as she holds the baby. You watch her sit down before you turn your attention to Haru, “His name is Yuuji.”

“Why is he trying to eat his hand?” He then questions as he watches the baby shove his hand in his mouth.

“His little teeth are coming out, and it hurts.” You explain, and Haru furrows his brows.

“Your baby’s weird.” Haru responds, making you giggle. You shouldn’t laugh, but you can’t help it.

You pinch his cheek before pointing out, “You were just like that too. You were a big crier too!”

“Nuh-uh!” He yells, and you squint your eyes.

“What do you mean nuh-uh?! You were a baby, and I was the one taking care of you!” You scold him, and he sticks his tongue out at you. You lightly hit him in the back of his head for his reaction, making him whine in response.

No matter how big the age gap, he’s still your sibling. The arguing won’t stop, no matter how big or small he is– You wonder if that’s how the twins will be with Yuuji. You hope it is.

It hurts when you have to go your separate ways. It takes everything in you to not cry when Haru bursts into tears. You try to reassure him that you’ll see him again soon, though you’re not sure. You’ll make sure you see him again, even if it’s the last thing you do. The thing is that you know it won’t happen until after you give birth to the twins.

The ride back home is quiet. Yuuji sleeps and you try to hold back the tears to not… You can’t even think of the reasoning. Maybe Sukuna is rubbing off on you. You don’t want to look weak in front of Hina. 

The sun has set when you get back to the palace, and while it’s typically quiet during this time, there’s over twenty servants around. You don’t pay attention to it until you reach your room and notice a woman scrubbing the floor. 

“Hina, bathe Yuuji and bring him back to me.” You order, and the woman hums in response before quietly exiting. You stare at the servant that diligently does her task, and you ask, “Where’s Sukuna?”

“My queen!” She yelps before bowing down to you. You almost roll your eyes, but you shouldn’t. You should be used to this treatment by now. “I don’t know where King Sukuna is.”

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“King Sukuna ordered for the palace to be scrubbed down before your arrival.” She answers, and you hum in response. That doesn’t answer a thing, if anything, your curiosity is piqued.

“Right. Carry on then.” You tell her before entering your room. You try not to think too much about it, perhaps he just wants to prepare for the birth of the twins. However, that’s in spring and it’s going to be a while. The palace will be dirty again by the time it happens.

“How was it? Are you happy now?” You’re spooked by him, too lost in your own thoughts to register his heavy footsteps. Oddly enough, Sukuna’s hands hug you from behind, bringing you into his embrace.

“Why are people scrubbing down the palace?” You don’t even bother answering his question. You don’t even have to look at him to know that he’s rolled his eyes at your lack of manners.

“Why must you know? Can’t I have my place clean?” He responds, making you turn around and face him. You furrow your brows, crossing your arms to let him know that you’re displeased by his answer. He finds it cute as he looks down at you– Oh, you really think you’re intimidating like this when you’re simply tiny compared to him.

“What are you hiding?” You ask.

“Just told them to clean up everything so you wouldn’t see a drop of blood.” He ends up saying, and you furrow your brows. There’s a servant in every corner of the palace, so it definitely wasn’t anything pretty.

You should be squeamish by his response, but at this point you’re used to his antics. As horrid as it is to say. You can’t particularly be mad either since… You have a feeling that you know what he was doing.

“Must have been a massacre then.” You comment, and he’s about to nod in agreement, but he won’t. You’re still a soft little thing, even if you’re tougher than when he first met you.

“You haven’t answered my question.” He points out, and you sigh.

“When can I see him again?” You ask, a question that tells him all he needs to know. He knew this would happen which is why he didn’t want to let you go out, but he had to allow it.

“I don’t understand your attachment to that insolent human.” He scoffs a comment that he regrets making the moment he looks down at you and sees tears welling up in your eyes. He sighs before saying, “I guess after the twins are here.”

“They’re my family too.” You end up saying, wrapping your arms around his large figure. It’s an action that takes him by surprise; certainly something that he can’t complain about. He hears a sniffle, and he tries to comfort you to the best of his ability. “I miss them.”

“What? So do you expect me to bring them here?” He tries to joke, a concept foreign to the being. He even lets out a scruffy laugh to get his point across, but you look up at him with teary, yet hopeful eyes. He immediately tells you, “Oh no. Absolutely not.”

[ssahotchnerr]

Valentines Day request you say? 😏

What about hotch x bau!reader’s first Valentine’s Day together but they’re away on a case and Hotch still desperately tries to make it special for his honey 😞😞😞😞

redefining romance

happy valentine's day! 🥰 cw; bau!reader, established relationship, bau family banter, brief food mentions, aaron being the sweetest, fluff <3 wc; 1.2k

You couldn't deny feeling a bit disappointed. You weren't surprised, but disappointed.

The last place you were hoping to spend your very first Valentine's Day with Aaron was on a case. Instead of sharing a quiet, intimate evening together, you were spending it in a precinct, miles away from home and far from anything that resembled love. In it's place, a sterile environment - fluorescent lights rather than candles, takeout consumed over case files instead of a fancy dinner.

It especially didn't help that you had brief knowledge of his would-have-been plans too. He had playfully asked if you had made prior plans, because he intended on taking you out. The only hint he gave was that your first stop would be a fancy restaurant - disclosed only so you were aware to dress accordingly - but the rest of the night would remain unbeknownst to you.

And now it was merely a reservation you wouldn't make.

You accepted this was something you would have to get used to. With such a demanding and unpredictable job, it came as no shock. In addition, you were positive this wouldn't be the last Valentine's day you spent in the field. Or holiday, at that.

But it still sucked regardless.

Instead than sulking entirely, you had to make the most of it: Aaron wore a red tie in the day's honor, chosen by you. The police department was scarcely decorated - some of the officers had felt festive enough. JJ even stopped to get pink and red donuts for breakfast on the way in. You also managed to be in a SUV with Aaron at one point, just the two of you, allowing him to comfortably hold your hand on the road.

The day had flown by before you even realized it. Before long, you found yourself back at the hotel with the others, parting ways for the night.

"We'll see you all in the morning," Aaron told the group, not-so-discreetly placing a hand on your back, the usual comments following.

"Goodnight," Derek offered the two of you a wink, the words leaving him in a sing-song tone.

"Remember, I'm an old man who needs his sleep." Dave also gave both of you a pointed look, causing Aaron to roll his eyes.

"Goodnight Dave."

"They're crazy," you laughed once the two of you reached your respective door, grabbing the keycard from your wallet. You faintly heard Emily tossing back the words to enjoy what you could of the rest of the day.

"They're jealous," Aaron humorously commented, causing you to laugh again as you pushed open the door, flicking the light on.

Much to your surprise, the light revealed a bouquet of flowers on the table, joined by chocolate covered strawberries. Not only that, flower petals were scattered amongst the duvet. You blinked, as if the display would somehow disappear.

Aaron trailed in behind you, a small smile on his face.

You turned to him, surprise blatant on your face. "You...?"

"Yeah," he confirmed casually, a warmth in his eyes that enveloped you from the inside out.

"When did you manage to do this?" Quickly, you replayed the day in your mind, searching for a moment when he could have slipped away, but came up with nothing. You admired the flowers, in stunned awe.

"I can't reveal all my secrets, can I?" He grinned. There was a quiet satisfaction in his expression, knowing he had successfully pulled it off, but mainly because you were so overjoyed.

"Aaron..." A million words were in your mind, but vocally, you couldn't help but be speechless. So you did the only thing that could get your message across - you grabbed the lapels of his jacket, fiercely pulling him close and kissing him.

Aaron reciprocated, holding you close.

"It's our first Valentine's Day. You didn't think I wouldn't try to make it special somehow, did you?" He teased once the two of you parted, arching an eyebrow.

"But I didn't-"

While you did have a heartfelt card for him, it wasn't a gesture as grand as this, his 'little something' waiting at home.

He waved off your comment. "Don't worry about it, please. Besides, this is the first Valentine's Day I've had in a while." His smile was effortlessly endearing. "I had to go all out one way or another. Not that I need an excuse to spoil you, you already know I don't need that. But our Valentine's Day looks different compared to others, given our job demands. So it may have to look like, this, here and there. If that's okay."

"Of course it is," you answered quickly, your gaze softening.

"And this," he briefly held up a finger, handing you a red, folded piece of paper. "Is from your other valentine."

"My other valentine?" You laughed softly in confusion, opening it up and your heart melting.

It was a handmade card, complete with messily-cut hearts. You recognized the writing immediately. Happy Valentine's Day! was in Jack's slightly messy third grade penmanship. He even included a small drawn portrait of the three of you.

You'll keep it forever.

Aaron sat on the bed, pulling you onto his lap. You lifted your eyes from the card, finding his serious yet sweet expression on his face. "I know it's not what we had originally planned. And we're still celebrating fully once we're home. I've already talked to Jess, she's more than willing to take Jack for one more night."

"Truthfully, I was kinda down about it all day," you admitted as your gaze dropped again, feeling silly.

"I know." His lips drew in a pensive line, his hand rubbing your hip comfortably.

"But you're right. They will look different, and we're lucky too. We still get to spend the day together, a lot of agents can't say the same for their significant other. And spur of the moment things like this, are so romantic and spontaneous and it..." Again, you were lost for words and overwhelmed by love. "This is perfect."

You felt deeply cherished, truly adored. That despite working, Aaron had gone out of his way to ensure your first Valentines would be special and memorable. It was a reminder that, no matter the circumstances, he would always find a way to make you feel loved. In a way, the two of you didn't quite need to celebrate further. This was more than enough.

"Hey, that's the word I would use to describe you."

"Really?" You leaned back slightly to get a better look at him, raising an eyebrow. "Smooth talking me, Hotchner?" You teased. But all jokes aside, you leaned back in, giving him a kiss. "Thank you, you're amazing. I love you so much."

"I love you. So much." He couldn't help himself, pressing his lips to yours and his chest filling up with love, as if every beat of his heart was made just for you (which, it was).

Eventually Aaron got up, removing his suit jacket.

"I still can't believe you," you said with a laugh, shaking your head and letting your fingers sift through the scattered petals. "I swear, I didn't see you leave once. And wait- did you pack these?"

"Don't get any ideas," he teased, undoing the cuffs on his sleeves as he stood above you. "As romantic as I am, we are on the job."

"Oh?" You grabbed his tie, firmly pulling him near. "I think we're not until the morning."

[cursedyuri]

fool me once | vi x reader

summary: after a night out, you cross paths with your (very married) neighbor. against her judgment (and yours), she shows you a good time. 18+ mdni! contains cheating (vi is married, r is single), alcohol use, oral sex, pet names. kinda angsty? like, maybe a little? also in my head vi is much older than reader but it’s not mentioned in the fic, so imagine it however u want!

“thank you soooo much,” you tell your uber driver, a woman around your age who had let you sit in the front seat and pick the music for your ride home. “i literally wouldn’t have made it here without you.”

“of course,” she chirps back, grinning, clearly not annoyed by your slurred words and overenthusiastic gratitude.

you rattle off a few more words of thanks as you clamber out of the sedan, heels clicking on the gravel. a sudden gust of wind sends shivers up your spine, reminding you that it’s not technically spring yet, and your too-short skirt and spaghetti strap top aren’t doing much to protect you from the cold. In fact, they’re not doing anything at all. you walk a bit faster up your driveway, glad that you’d had the foresight to turn on the porch light before you’d left earlier.

as you’re rummaging through your purse in search of your keys, the neighbor’s door swings open, and out walks a tattooed redhead. you quickly recall her name - vi. she lives next door with her wife, who you’ve also crossed paths with a few times. both women are, frankly, fucking hot. especially vi, who’s clad in a loose white tee (braless, no less) and jeans, inky black tattoos on display as she settles down into one of the patio chairs. she’s carrying a glass of wine, filled nearly to the brim.

maybe it’s the alcohol in your system from your night out. maybe it’s the fact that you haven’t had sex in ages, resorting instead to sliding your hand beneath your panties at night and finger-fucking yourself to sleep. maybe it’s a combination of both. regardless, you catch yourself staring at your neighbor for a bit too long, eyes lingering on the red mass of her perfectly-tousled hair, the glimmering silver ring in her nose, the smoldering heat of her gaze when her eyes meet yours.

she doesn’t look away. your breath catches in your throat.

“hey, neighbor.” dipping her head back, she takes a long swig from her overfilled glass of wine, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, and flashes a crooked smile your way. “had a good night, i take it?”

nodding, you tug your front door open by the handle. you’re tipsy, and though alcohol typically makes you feel more confident, the benefits of the many cocktails in your system don’t make talking to your hot neighbor any easier. anxious, you fiddle with the zipper on your purse. “it was fun, yeah.”

“but he didn’t let you stay over,” your neighbor shoots back, eyes narrowing just a bit. “shame. you deserve better.”

your brows lift at the comment - specifically the word he. vi can’t be that oblivious, can she?

“he? oh - no, it wasn’t like that. i was with friends.” you lean your head against the cool metal of the front door, letting your eyes drink her in some more. she’s sitting on the porch furniture like it’s a throne, shoulders squared, legs spread. her jeans fit her well, you notice, admiring the way they emphasize the shape of her strong thighs beneath the denim.

but… fuck, she’s married. and you’re drunk.

“i’m gonna go to bed,” you say, finally, smiling politely. “goodnight, vi.”

it might just be a cruel trick of your imagination, but you swear she looks disappointed - if only for a moment. her expression returns to normal just as quickly, though, and then she’s responding to you from behind the rim of her wine glass. “uh-huh. goodnight.”

when you finally get the door shut, it’s with a relieved sigh. the tension leaves your body in waves until all you feel is the light, airy haze of your buzz. you toe off your shoes and set your purse down on the table by the door, then make your way to the kitchen for some much-needed ice water. you’re halfway through your second glass when there’s a knock at the door.

as you set your glass onto the counter and walk back to the foyer, it occurs to you that most normal people would be startled by a knock on the door after midnight. most normal people wouldn’t get excited by it, and they certainly wouldn’t hope it’s their married neighbor knocking.

and most normal people wouldn’t stop to look in the mirror before they answer the door, pulling their shirt down to expose more cleavage, fixing their hair and hastily reapplying a layer of lipstick. but you’re not most normal people - you know it’s her at the door, and you know this is wrong, and you still want it.

when you turn the knob and find her staring you down on the other side of the door, her seaglass-blue eyes dark and stormy with desire, you feign innocence. ignorance, even.

“hi,” you say, voice even. “do you need something?”

“nobody saw you dressed like this and took you back to their place?” vi’s voice is low and gruff as she questions you, stepping over the threshold into your home. instinctively, you angle out of her way, letting her in without a word of protest. when you don’t move to close the door again, she pushes it shut with a flat palm, eyes never leaving yours.

“hm?” she prompts.

“i—no,” you blurt, shaking your head. “i was just with friends, like i told you.”

the heat of her gaze has your skin flushing with warmth as she looks you over, eyes lingering on the curve of your hips and the slopes of your breasts.

satisfaction roils through you, a white-hot stab of confidence from the way she looks at you. “why does it matter?”

“you’d only wear something like this to get fucked,” she drawls, one calloused hand reaching out to grab the supple flesh of your hip. her fingertips skate over your skirt’s mesh fabric, her face still relatively expressionless while you burn from her touch alone.

“well, i didn’t get fucked,” you say, surprised at how well you’ve masked the shakiness of your voice. “not that it’s any of your business.”

your tone evidently surprises vi, too. her brows pull together, an amused chuckle leaving her lips as she rubs her palm over your hip. “what an attitude,” she comments. “always been such a sweetheart, smiling all pretty at me. should’ve known you just needed a few drinks to bring out the brat.”

her boots are heavy against the hardwood floors as she steps forward to close the small gap between the two of you. she smells like cigarettes and spiced perfume and that wine she’d been drinking earlier - it suddenly dawns on you that, if she’d finished that entire glass in just a few minutes, she’s probably just as tipsy as you are.

that would explain why she’s crowding into your space, backing you up against the wall closest to the door, her arm snaking around your waist like she’d done this a thousand times before. truthfully, you’re expecting her to kiss you when she leans in close; the very tip of her nose brushes against yours and your eyes fall shut of their own accord.

but instead of her mouth on yours, you feel her lips latch onto the smooth skin of your neck. her kisses are hot, wet, open-mouthed, and a pleased sigh pushes past your lips when she pauses over a particularly sensitive spot on your neck and sucks hard. arousal pools in your gut, your thighs pressing together to relieve some of the tension between your legs as you lean into vi touch. her hands are everywhere: your hips, your ass, your tits, groping appreciatively at every inch of you she can reach.

you should feel guilty, shouldn’t you? if only you could. instead, all you can feel is the delicious slide of vi’s tongue over your pulse, her teeth nipping at your sensitive flesh until you’re pliant in her arms, doe-eyed and rosy-cheeked, watching her trail kisses lower, lower, lower. her lips brush the lace trim of your camisole and when she looks up at you from beneathher lashes to find that you’re already watching her, she grins salaciously.

“hey, sweetheart,” vi murmurs, voice low. she leans towards you again, close enough for you to smell the wine on her breath, and your heartbeat stutters when her lips ghost over yours. “can you show me your room?”

she kicks off her boots and you lead her down the hall, suddenly glad that you’d made your bed this morning.

vi’s hands are back on you as soon as you make it to the bedroom, the lamp on your nightstand providing just enough light to keep you from stumbling. she pulls your shirt over your head in one fluid motion, hands dipping behind you to unclasp your bra and work the straps from your shoulders. she’s methodical and practiced with every movement, and it makes your head spin when she gropes at your exposed tits, thumbs stroking over your pert nipples.

“fuck,”she curses down at you, her eyes on your breasts as she kneads them carefully. “look at you - so pretty for me.”

vi’s words have your cunt clenching around nothing, a shameless moan ripping from your chest when she pinches your nipples just right. you whine in protest when she moves her hands away, but you’re quickly silenced when her palm comes to rest on the back of your neck and she dips her head down to bring her lips to yours. the room seems to spin around you, though you know it’s not from the alcohol.

vi tastes like smoke and wine, just as you’d expected, but beneath it all, there’s the distinctive flavor of her. and it’s addictive - you’re hooked already, melting under her commanding grip,her fingertips digging into the back of your neck. her tongue darts over your lower lip, eventually slipping into your mouth to taste more of you. every swipe of her tongue over yours stokes the fire growing in your belly; you’re practically vibrating with arousal, your cunt fluttering every time vi’s hand flexes on your neck.

but then disappointment stabs through you as she finally breaks the kiss, her lips swollen and shiny with saliva, eyes clouded with need.

“don’t look so sad, baby,” she coos down at you, “just want you to get on your knees for me. can you do that?”

truth be told, you’d do just about anything she’d ask of you. you nod, sinking to your knees before her, your skirt riding up to bunch around your hips and expose the supple, doughy flesh of your thighs. vi even catches a glimpse at your panties - skimpy and lacy, of course. her cunt gushes wetter and she palms herself over her jeans as you settle on your knees to peer up at her, eyes wide and round and pathetic. how can you look fucked-out when she hasn’t even fucked you yet?

your hands smooth up vi’s thighs, the denim of her jeans rough and scratchy beneath your palms. it feels wrong to break eye contact, especially when she’s looking at you with such desire, so you keep your gaze fixed on him while your hands move to undo her belt, pop the top button of her jeans, and tug the zipper down. you lean closer as you work her jeans down her legs, leaving her in just the thin material of her boxers. and it’s only then that you want to look away from vi’s face, because you can feel how wet she is when you drag your hand over the clothed mound of her pussy. you need to see how wet she is, too.

you can hear her breath hitch as she watches you; the urge to please her seizes you with dizzying strength and you’re no longer caught up on the guilt of the situation. leaning forward, you press your lips to the thin fabric separating your skin from vi’s pussy, darkening with the mess of her arousal. your tongue flits out to circle the wet patch, and vi groans like she’s in pain, her hips twitching desperately. distantly, you hear her say something like don't tease, but you’re too focused on the task at hand to process vi’s words. you rub your cheek against her pelvis, your eyes flickering up to meet hers - she’s staring, lips parted, jaw tight.

“damn, you’re a slut, aren’t you?” vi’s voice is low and husky, tinged with dark amusement. her fingers card through your hair and tug slightly at the roots. “baby, stop stalling - i need to know how that pretty mouth feels, yeah?”

“mm, okay,” you murmur, a mischievous little smirk playing at your lips as you hook your thumbs behind the waistband of her underwear and tug them down to her ankles. she spreads her legs just enough to allow you to see her, cunt flushed and glistening with slick arousal beneath a fine thicket of hair. the room is still spinning when you open your mouth to lick a stripe up her pussy, tongue lingering when it reaches the bud of her clit. she tastes salty and sweet and heady, and it’s divine - you lick up the evidence of her arousal until she’s straining to keep from bucking her hips forward, thin brows knitted together.

“so gorgeous on your knees,” vi rasps. her hand moves to grip the back of your neck, blunt fingernails digging into your skin just enough to sting. you smile, but you doubt vi can see it, your mouth buried in her bush and smothered with wetness. you lick at her cunt lazily at first, tongue broad, allowing you to familiarize yourself with every slick fold of her cunt. you tongue at her clit carefully, not wanting to overwhelm her too much - but every pass of your tongue over the swollen, sensitive bud makes vi’s breath hitch in her throat.

“doing so good,” she manages to say, voice shaky. A hand smoothes over your hair. “gonna let me come on your pretty face?”

you hum your assent, eyes fluttering shut as you mouth at her burning core, the taste and scent of her slick overwhelming your senses. you’re not sure how long you spend between her legs, sucking at her clit and parting her folds with your tongue, moaning against the spit-slick hair of her bush, before the ragged moans leaving her lips grow more insistent - more desperate. you pick up the pace of the circles you’ve been drawing around her clit, bringing one hand up to her center to slip a finger into her tight heat. vi makes a sound that makes your pussy fucking throb with want. seeing as it was so easy to slide a finger into her, you add another, and revel in satisfaction when she makes another tortured sound. before long, you’re fingering her at a dizzying pace, the lewd sounds from between her legs making your stomach heavy with arousal.

there’s little warning before vi finally comes - she gasps out your name, fingers tightening in your hair as her cunt seizes up around your fingers. she thrusts her hips forward a few times, riding out her high on your face, and you couldn’t be happier to be such a fucking mess.

when you open your eyes to look up at her, you’re mesmerized. she looks beautiful like this, even as her expression crumpled with pleasure. her hair is disheveled far more than usual, cheeks painted a bright shade of pink, lips still swollen from earlier. you’re struck with a bolt of admiration for her, a fleeting sensation quickly followed by guilt because, well… she’s married to someone else.

as if she could sense where your mind was going, vi suddenly draws her hips back, gripping your hair in her fist to pull you away from her cunt. you clamber to your feet, nipples still exposed and achingly hard as your tits bounce with movement. vi pulls you in for another messy kiss, the wet sounds of your lips moving together only adding to your arousal. you’re so turned on you can hardly breathe, your slickness soaking through the flimsy fabric of your panties. vi moves you backwards to the bed, giving you a quiet command to lie back before she reaches down to yank her shirt off.

she’s on you before you can process what she’s doing. dropping to her knees at the foot of the bed, she pulls you to the edge of the mattress, wasting no time before her hands are greedily squeezing the soft, warm flesh of your thighs. she works her hands higher until she can grip the hem of your panties, working them off quickly. “ruined,” she comments, referring to the soiled fabric as it sticks to your cunt, ribbons of your arousal stretching between the underwear and your soaked folds. you can only get out a strangled moan to acknowledge her words, body white-hot with anticipation.

warm puffs of vi’s breath trail along your inner thighs, her mouth utterly sinful when she sucks a few bruises into your sensitive skin. you’ve hardly recovered from the sight of her as you ate her out, but now you have a new image to burn into your memory: vi’s head between your legs, her pupils blown, gaze fixed up at you as she splits your folds with her tongue. sloppy as she is, she’s methodical about this too. her tongue dips into the well of arousal pooled at your entrance, spreading the slickness upwards to your clit. your hips jerk and twitch when her tongue prods against the bundle of nerves, which she clearly doesn’t appreciate - her hands move to slam down on your hips, forcing them back down to the mattress. she keeps her hands there, her fingers splayed over the sliver of your torso exposed beneath your skirt; you look away when you see the silver rings adorning her fingers. one ring in particular, really.

guilty as you should feel, it’s hard to harbor any kind of regret when vi’s eating your cunt so well. she’s attentive to every moan and shiver that passes through you, expertly mapping out your body - finding what you like best. and it’s maddening, how quickly she works you to the precipice of your orgasm. you’re teetering on the edge within a few short minutes, panting and gasping, fighting every urge to roll your hips down and grind against her face.

“oh my god,” you blurt, “vi, i’m - i’m gonna–”

you interrupt yourself with a sharp whine, going damn near cross-eyed when vi slips a slender finger into your pulsing heat. you’d imagined her fingering you like this a hundred times before, but none of your fantasies could prepare you for the way a single finger splits you apart, her index finger slipping in right after, both digits scissoring carefully in the warm wetness of your cunt. if you were close before, you’re now a babbling mess, slipping into the ecstasy of your orgasm with a strangled moan and an arched back. vi licks you through every wave of pleasure, her fingers stilling inside you while you spasm around her. she hums in approval when you finally come down from your orgasm, spent and struggling to catch your breath.

“you’re so fucking messy,” vi says with a smirk, dragging her fingers through your folds and holding them up for you to see. wetness shines on her fingers, your creamy spend still pooled around the dips of her rings. “you always this sloppy, baby? or is it just for me?”

you chew at your lip. “it’s just… just for you.”

she flashes you a wicked grin, gives your swollen clit one last kiss, then rises to stand over you at the foot of the bed. you reach out for her, suddenly cold, yearning for the warmth of her bare skin against yours. but she doesn’t notice the gesture, instead turning to search the floor for her forgotten tee and jeans.

“sorry i can’t stay,” she says casually, tugging her jeans on after finding them in a crumpled pile. “my wife will be home soon, so.”

her wife.

you’d been so wrapped up in your own ecstasy that you’d let yourself fantasize about her staying the night - crawling into bed with you and cuddling after sex, falling asleep in each other’s arms.

if your disappointment shows, vi doesn’t say anything.

“i’ll see you around, sweetheart,” she says. her eyes shift to your still-spread legs, cunt soaked in her spit and your own cum.

“okay,” you respond, voice hollow. your head has started to throb - tonight’s drinks are catching up to you. you watch as vi tugs her shirt back over her head, then turns to the mirror beside her bed to fix her tousled red locks. she gives you one last smug smile as she backs out of the doorway to your bedroom, one hand lifting to wave goodbye. you hear her shuffle through the house, stepping back into her boots. the front door slams shut a moment later, the silence of your bedroom somehow deafening.

in the quiet solitude of your bedroom, you pull the covers over your naked body and force yourself to sleep. and maybe, if you’re lucky, you’ll wake up tomorrow to find that this was all a drunken dream.

[maxlarens]

OP: well, that isn't fucking relevant

pairing(s): oscar piastri x mercedes driver!reader

summary: someone tries to threaten your job, oscar has some choice words for him. (OR: the trials and tribulations of being a woman in a male dominated sport)

word count: 2.7k+

an: i kinda hate the white knight trope but i still wrote this lol, it scratches an itch and i think driver!reader did a sufficient amount of defending of herself beforehand. anyway, this is a one shot that's kind of connected to my smau series just a girl. enjoy!!!!! [also standard disclaimer: this does not reflect the opinions of any real life people/companies/organisations/etc. it is fiction. thank you]

You’re no stranger to sexism in Formula racing— you knew going into this that you’d have to deal with thinly veiled remarks about your gender and purposefully obtuse questions from reporters who think they know more than you about the sport you’ve dedicated your life to. You had to deal with it when you were karting, you had to deal with it during your stint in F2, and you have to deal with it now.

The fact of the matter is that some people do not think you belong here, and therefore are entirely unable to integrate the reality that you are very much here to stay, into their worldview. You’re lucky to have somehow earned Lewis’ loyalty, which had brought the Mercedes contract and the support of Toto simultaneously. Mercedes-AMG aren’t making leaps and bounds into the world of feminism, but you’re grateful for the seat regardless. You’re here and not going anywhere if you can help it.

You try your best to stay off the bad parts of social media, so as not to be subjected to the barrage of hate comments and death threats directed your way. You’re tough— but no one’s that tough. It’s fine for the most part. You focus on the racing, how the car feels, your performance and improving it weekend after weekend. You try at least. You’d love to leave your gender entirely out of the mix, you don’t think it’s relevant frankly. But unfortunately, the reporters do. (And so do some choice individuals working on the grid, who just can’t seem to keep their big fucking mouths shut about you.)

It’s disappointing, sure— but not surprising to sit down at a press conference and get a smattering of questions about your rumoured relationships and extracurricular activities when every other driver gets fifty questions practically thrown at them about their performance, or FIA regulations, or the track conditions. The part that bothers you the most is honestly just the lack of interest. It’s like they don’t think anything you have to say about the sport is valuable so they just don’t ask you the same questions they bother to ask the men. That probably is the actual case too.

So— y’know— you’re not that shocked when a reporter from some sports blog you’ve never heard of straight out asks if you “expect to be switched out with another female driver next year?”

The room goes dead fucking silent in a way that you do actually find satisfying. It’s good to know that most of the reporters in the room do know a tactless question when they hear one, or at least that you inspire enough fear in people that they’re waiting with bated breath to hear your response. Next to you, Oscar tenses, you can feel it where your thighs are touching. You can imagine his face right now without looking, that pinched micro-grimace he does. The barest hint of a crease in the bridge of his nose as he tries not to scowl. You want to put your hand on his knee and squeeze it in thanks.

You don’t. Instead, you frown and cock your head to the side, meeting the eyes of the reporter across the room.

Slowly, measuredly, you repeat, “I’m sorry, do I expect to be replaced with another female driver next year? Is that what you said?”

He nods, bringing the microphone closer to his mouth as if you really couldn’t hear him the first time, “Yes, yeah. That is what I asked.”

You hum, pursing your lips as if you’re sincerely considering his question. You can see a few people in the crowd who are cringing already, some of them have been on the receiving end of your tendency to play with your food before you eat it. Your ego feels pretty good about that.

“Why would Mercedes want to replace me?” you ask in your most polite voice, feigning real curiosity to this man who you doubt has done any research at all on you.

“Um,” he errs, some of his former unflappable confidence leeching out of his tone, “Well, to give more women a chance in Formula One—”

You start to speak over him, done with entertaining his ignorance. You bite, “—there are other teams for that, actually. I don’t think it’s presumptuous to say that I’ve earned my seat at Mercedes, or that I’ve proven that I belong here so far this season. In which, I have not qualified or placed below a P7. And I certainly don’t think it’s fair of you to ask if I am going to voluntarily give up my hard-earned seat to another person because you think I am here because of some women’s inclusion effort by Mercedes. And, okay, who knows, maybe I am. But I am not giving up this seat without a fight, nor do I imagine that Mercedes are in a rush to find someone to replace me right now. You’ll have to ask someone to confirm that though.”

You wind down after that, punctuating your point with a firm nod; some of the fight and the fury seeping out as you start to reckon with the potential consequences of your outburst. Mercedes’ PR rep will have something to say surely, you’re just hoping you haven’t crossed some kind of uncrossable line. Another part of you doesn’t quite care as you watch the reporter gape like a fish out of water, feeling rather satisfied that you’d put him in his place.

Eventually, the room recovers and moves on from you. Checo is getting asked his opinion on tyres while you share a furtive glance with Oscar. He smiles approvingly, mouth closed and the apples of his cheeks pushed up into his eyes. You feel the urge to touch his knee again but resist, instead smiling back as covertly as you possibly can. A warm feeling spreads in your chest and you almost forget about the reporter and his stupid question in favour of watching Oscar’s slow-burn smile.

Mercedes is fine with it, it turns out. Apparently, you’re doing the heavy lifting for them in the feminism department and all they have to do is have Toto or someone come out and say a few words in agreement. It suits them fine, they don’t need to take any hard stances and you get the blame if anything goes horribly wrong. That grates at you, of course it does. But you’ve got a seat, haven’t you? You’re not going to give it up because Mercedes are covering their asses like the multibillion-dollar company that they are.

It means you’ve avoided the all-hands-on-deck PR meeting you thought you’d be stuck in tonight, but it’s left you in too sour a mood for this party. It’s some function, fundraiser, something or other and they’ve invited all the teams, drivers and ‘important’ FIA staff. This means there’s an inordinate amount of people here and you’re really not into it.

But you’re still here. You’ve shoved yourself into a cute, strappy, black top, and a denim mini-skirt and you’ve even added some cute jewellery in a feeble attempt to match whatever over-the-top outfit Lewis has arrived in. It’s at least a step up from your usual team polo and leggings, or the Mercedes hoodie that you pull on over it. You’re comfortable. You’re fine.

You pull a hand out of the pocket of your oversized leather jacket as Oscar comes back over with your beer. You smile at the expression on his face as you take the neck in between your fingers. He’s scowling openly, the corners of his lips curled up in distaste.

“Busy?” you ask, then you hold up the beer in thanks, “Cheers, by the way.”

“Hmm, too crowded,” he affirms, “I lost Lando.”

You shrug, taking a swig of the refreshingly cold beer, “Actually? Or did he run off with someone?”

Oscar snorts, “Yeah, no. He got into a conversation with Max.”

You laugh, “Yeah, in that case, I reckon we’ll see Lando in a few hours.”

“Definitely.”

The two of you share an amused smile before you’re back to looking into the crowd because sometimes, it’s hard for you to look at him— like looking directly into the sun. You’re aware of him in your periphery, standing there and rocking back and forth on his heels, occasionally taking a sip of his drink. He looks away for a moment, and you turn to look at him. Taking in the endearing swoop of his hair, the scattering of freckles and moles on the side of his pale face, the long line of his neck disappearing into the collar of his shirt. You shift your eyes slightly to the right of him, to the patchwork of vents and scaffolding in the ceiling, feigning as if you’d only been casually looking his way.

“That reporter was a piece of work,” Oscar says once he’s drifted his attention back to you.

You roll your eyes on instinct, and groan, “Tell me about it, holy shit, Osc. What an asshole. I don’t know if he was just stupid or legit didn’t know a single thing about me.”

“Mm,” Oscar hums in agreement, “and I like how no one asked you a single question after that. Way to go guys, that’s exactly how you show your support.”

You roll your eyes, still smiling a little at the contented feeling you’ve got in your chest, “I know, right. Trust, they all got on their keyboards afterwards to wax lyrical about how deserving I am of my seat. It’d be fucken’ nice if they acted like it during press conferences.”

“Yeaah,” he sighs, half-laugh, half-exhale, “It’s unfair.”

“Fucken' right,” you gripe, tipping your head back and letting a slip of fizzy beer cascade down your throat— the alcohol, though meagre, leaves you feeling loose, a little reckless, “It sucks Osc. God, I just want to be respected. If I had a dick and balls I’d be fucking killing it, dude. This is my rookie season, I’ve been scoring points every race. Except for the DNF, which was not my fault. But, fuck me, they don’t give a shit.”

You squeeze your eyes shut to stave off the angry tears that are sitting behind your eyelids, threatening. When you open them Oscar is staring at you, frowning, his brown eyes huge and sparkling and sympathetic. They’re like a black hole you want to fall into. Your heart squeezes. He’s so— ugh. Quickly, your mind supplies about a hundred answers to that question: sweet, cute, nice, adorable. Something stutters in your chest and you feel your cheeks starting to grow hot. That slow-burn smile of Oscar’s starts on his face, and you watch dimples form on his cheeks.

The moment is quickly ruined by a particularly nasally Italian accent that you vaguely recognise, “You know,” it says, clearly talking to you, “You should make sure to watch your tone. You never know who could be listening.”

Mood thoroughly dampened, you turn to face the interruption. It turns out to be one of the numerous men on the grid who won’t shut up about you, sharing unsolicited opinions left and right. He has his arms crossed against his chest and a smug expression on his face, as if he’s just caught you doing something terrible— instead of simply complaining about the subpar treatment you’re afforded.

He’s not worth your time whatsoever but God you’re angry. Maybe it’s just been too much shit on top of shit today but you cannot deal reasonably with this man right now— and you are not afforded the luxury of not acting reasonably toward someone like this, no matter how much of a dickhead they are. You open your mouth. Close it. Open it again. Close it and bite down on your bottom lip so nothing accidentally slips out. You’re trying to fish a semi-civil sentence out of a sea of fuck you fuck you fuck you on repeat and it’s not working.

“Are you threatening her?” Oscar asks, a dangerous lilt to his tone, and somewhere in the pulse of anger, you think this is the happiest you’ve ever been to hear his voice, “Because, I am pretty sure your team principal would not be pleased to hear that you’re going around threatening one of Mercedes’ drivers.”

He scoffs, trying to play it off, but you think you register a little bit of worry somewhere in there— Oscar can be threatening when he wants to be and McLaren are not exactly nobodies in this sport right now, “Please, I am not threatening her. I am just telling her that she needs to watch her mouth.”

“Right,” Oscar nods, mouth pinching, “Sure. Well, it would be our word against yours and I’m fairly sure your team principal would believe two drivers over you right now. Especially with that history, you’ve got, dude.”

A little thrill goes up your spine as his face goes white as a sheet. Oscar’s talking about the nice little list of comments he’s made that you’ve reported to your team and an FIA representative— which you’ve taken to doing every time anyone starts up a pattern of saying things about you or to you. They’re to cover your ass honestly, so you can’t be accused of making things up if push comes to shove. You’re sure they’ve made their way back to him and his boss; you’re glad they’ve made an impact (but perhaps not enough to stop him outright).

He sniffs, a nervous edge to his words, “I am not threatening her.”

“Okay. Apologise.”

“Excuse me?”

Oscar raises an eyebrow, “If you’re not threatening her, apologise.”

You bite the inside of your lip and grip the neck of your near-empty beer bottle tighter. Alright, Oscar can be scary. Noted. Very much noted.

“I—” He quickly thinks better of protesting and looks at you, lips pursed in a thin angry line, “I apologise.”

He looks at Oscar, Oscar looks at you. You shrug and nod. Good enough. You don’t need him to grovel, you think he’s been sufficiently humiliated already. Although, before he scampers off into the crowd at Oscar’s approval, you manage a dry, “You think I need to watch my tone now?”

He scowls, but says, “No,” anyway.

Then he stalks off into the throng of people.

You relax more the further that he gets away from the two of you. The tension dissipates into something warm and charged with a different kind of electricity entirely. You ignore the unease that tries to take root in your stomach and instead focus on Oscar at your side.

“That was—” you scrub a hand over your face, starting your sentence again, “Hm.”

Oscar sigh-laughs again, “Yeah, what an asshole.”

“Thank you,” you say meaning it wholeheartedly, “No one’s done something like that for me before.”

Oscar looks down at you, frowning, he shakes his head, “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” you answer, feeling bold as you put a hand on his bicep in an attempt to express how grateful you feel for him, for what he’d done for you, “It’s really not, Osc.”

He’s quiet, staring at you with big brown sparkling eyes for a long long moment. A long moment in which you fantasise about reaching upward and pulling his face down to yours, feeling his lips against your own. They’d be soft, you think— his hair would be too. You don’t think about it and you resolutely ignore the tug low in your gut.

“You deserve it,” he says eventually, loud enough that you can hear it, but not anyone else, “You are killing it, by the way.”

You breathe a laugh, “Yeah, I’d better be.”

You squeeze gently at his bicep, feeling the sinewed muscle underneath his dress shirt. Then you let your hand drop, trailing absently down his arm as you do so. Your fingers brush his hand, and he catches yours before it's out of reach at your side. Purposefully, he threads your fingers with his, squeezing firmly and brushing his thumb tenderly over your knuckle. You feel a little lightheaded when he lets go.

You sigh, masking the out-of-breath quality of your voice, “I need another drink.”

“Yeah,” Oscar breathes, “Me too, I reckon.”

🏎️ title taken from this song :)

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

Paint Me Red

Synopsis: You and Damian like horror movies for the same reason.

Pairing: Dark!Damian Wayne X Dark!AFAB!Gn!Reader

Tw: 18+ pwp; Kinda gore?; Cannibalism kink? Definitely hinted; Biting link; Blood kink; Fingering; Watching straight porn; Torture porn? It's all fake and no one’s suffering; Pain kink maybe; They are freaks and they are in love; Worshipping?; A hint of love-bombing? I repeat, they're freaks and they're in love, your honor; Mention of hipersexuality; Damian enjoys pain, gore and death, despite not killing anymore, Reader likes it too; Reader has long hair and is implied to be wearing a shirt or dress with straps and bare thighs; English isn't my first language.

Word count: 1,2k

Requested? No.

Extra notes: Inspired by the movie May and everyone who yaps about yandere!Damian being cannibal coded. I also love when someone writes Damian a little psycho, a little sadomasochist. And a Damian who worships his S/O is the best Damian!!! I recommend reading this while listening to Tear You Apart by She Wants Revenge. Not sure I like my writing here tho, especially the title, there were many good options that also seemed bad options

General masterlist

Damian was odd, you knew it from the start. Everyone who interacts with him knows it from the start.

That didn't stop you from being flustered when he confessed his — in his actual words — all consuming, undying love. You never thought anyone would actually use those words while declaring their feelings for someone, but as always with him, Damian was different.

And maybe you were different too.

You came back from your weekly date with him to the apartament you recently started sharing, despite being so young and having been dating for only a month when he asked. Your friends called it love-bombing. You had never heard of a more romantic term.

He took you to the bedroom as soon as you crossed the threshold, excited about a surprise he planned for you, but there was nothing different there, until he pulled his laptop out, fiddled with something, connected to the overhead projector you bought once on a whim, after watching a tiktok, only to realize it wasn't any better than just watching on your television or laptop. At least it wasn't as expensive as one would think.

Regardless, you still used it sometimes, even if for the sake of being spontaneous — and making your money worth it —, and your boyfriend was clearly looking for that.

You sat on the edge of the bed, and in less than a minute, Damian was sitting beside you, while a weird video started playing.

— I found it online, beloved. — Damian explained. — A short film, made by a group of independent artists, I think. — You nodded along, this level of cinephilia was not exactly your thing, but you did enjoy watching movies and leaving reviews on Letterboxd, if it caught Damian's interest, then it must be something.

— Yeah, very Texas Chainsaw Massacre. — You commented, not because it actually looked to be a horror movie, but more because of the quality of the camera, the eery atmosphere, and the scenario being filmed in the middle of nowhere. It seemed like an actually calm movie, but you knew something was up, there was only a young couple having a cute picnic.

Damian looked at you with wide, almost innocent eyes, boyish excitement coupled with some glint you couldn't identify.

— Exactly!

You felt some satisfaction and pride. You were the one who presented him with the classic slasher movies — one of your favorite genres — and were surprised by his eager acceptance of them, since a lot of them didn't have much quality. But he seemed interested in the death scenes and gore. Maybe it was the remnants of his childhood on him, but you didn't have that past and still related to him, much to his delight. He also commented about how unreal a lot of it was, from experience, no doubt.

It was almost cute. And hot.

Damian's hand laid on your thigh, while his thumb started rolling circles on your bare skin.

You let out a gasp when the girl in the movie, out of nowhere, bit hard on her boyfriend’s finger while he fed her a piece of pie with his hands. An exaggerated amount of blood started sliding down her lips and his hand, but he didn't scream, he just stared at her while she had mischief and desire in her eyes.

Damian's hand squeezed your flesh.

— How did you find this on YouTube? I'm pretty sure they wouldn't allow it there. — You wondered out loud, squeezing your thighs when the guy used his bloody hand to push the strap of her sundress down, revealing her supple breast. He leaned forward and peppered kisses down her chest, while pushing the other strap down, revealing her torso even more, until he bit her ribs’s flesh just as hard, face partially covered by her left tit.

Now, they were both smeared in lots of blood, from his hand travelling her body and the new wound.

— I did not mention YouTube. — He answered, and you hummed, paying extreme attention to the movie, intrigued, and half surprised to be turned on. But it was shallow, a thin layer of lust that went unnoticed by you, mistaken by intrigue and excitement.

You only noticed how hot you were, when Damian did the same thing to you. He slowly and deliberately got closer, pushed your hair back from your shoulder, and left wet, slow pecks down your neck, while pushing your straps down. You just stared at the images while he did his thing.

You were interrupted when he bit down on your shoulder, hard, leaving teeth marks, but not enough to bleed. You couldn't help the yelp of pain that escaped you by surprise, but didn't feel like reprimanding him when he soothed the feeling by still kissing you, and buried his hand between your legs, invading your underwear.

You opened your legs to give him more space, while your lips also parted to let out a deep breath, not out of nervousness, but anticipation. When you paid attention to the movie again, the guy was lying between the girl’s legs, leaving a nasty bite on her inner thigh. The blood dripped down and ruined her white underwear, but her boyfriend just started eating her out with the fabric still on the way.

Meanwhile, Damian played with your wet clit with his thumb while he inserted two fingers into your moist hole with ease, catching you both off guard with how wet you were with basically nothing. He had a hunch you would like his surprise, but not that much.

In need to let out some pent-up desire, he bit your flesh once more, this time above your breast. A low whimper of pain forced its way out of your throat. You looked down and noticed Damian's full-on boner.

You reached and pressed your hand against him, making him hiss and finally stop lapping at your skin, to look at you with desire. You kept eye-contact while rubbing him through his pants.

Damian pressed his lips to yours in haste, eager to taste your tongue while pumping his fingers faster and deeper against your walls, focused on abusing your sweet spot. The kiss was more sensual than ever, a dance which consisted in sharing heavy breaths, exchanged pecks, sucking lips and caressing tongues. While you both were like rabbits a third of the time, you being hipersexual and him being in love with you, the newfound shared taboo kink definitely turned things up a notch. And you expressed it by interrupting the kiss with a hard bite on his bottom lip.

Damian hissed like a cat until you let his lip go. When he glared at you, anyone would think he was livid like you just kicked his dog, but you knew him better than anyone. In fact, you were the only one to ever see him in the vulnerable side that came with intimacy, the only one he would ever want and trust to either lay beside his naked body, or willingly allow to leave a mark on his scarred flesh. Taste his muscles. Drink his blood.

He used his free hand to touch his lip, and found blood there. You licked your own, bright crimson and wet.

When he looked at you again, you wondered if you had finally ruined him for anyone else forever, and he made sure to paint both your faces red with a kiss, while he made you cum on his fingers.

Like, comment and reblog 🥰

[wroetominter]

Platform Roulette - George Clarke

In which George and Y/n are good friends, and she tags along for a platform roulette video.

Pairing: George x Fem Reader

Warnings: none, fluff.

"And today, we have a special guest appearance, Y/n!" Arthur Hill introduced me to his video.

"Am I not also a special guest?" George questioned Arthur.

"Get out of my spotlight Clarkey" I snapped back, pushing him to the side and striking a pose in front of the camera. This earned a laugh from the two boys.

"As always, Arthur is running late, but as soon as he is here we will let him choose a number between one and ten to find out where we are going today.

As if on cue, Arthur strolled up to the group. "Hello everyone!" He said excitedly.

"About time mate," George said. Arthur rolled his eyes at him, looking over to Hill for his question.

"You know the drill, choose a number between one and ten Arthur"

After all too much deliberation, Arthur chose 6.

"Manchester!" I exclaimed, looking at the board.

"Bloody hell, this is going to be a long trip." George commented, looking up train times.

We all shrugged, with nothing better to do and knowing that it would be fun regardless.

Making our way to the shop, we picked our beverages and some snacks for the trip, I choose a canned cocktail, a cranberry vodka and some various beers that George recommend. I had never been one for beers much, but I didn't want to just drink cocktails and get drunk before we'd even left the station.

Situating ourselves on the train, I sat on the window side next to George, across from the Arthur's. We opened our first drinks, bantering back and forth trying to make some good content for the video.

By the time we had arrived in Manchester, we were all two drinks in and I was definitely feeling some of the alcohol. Cursing the fact I was a lightweight. "George," I looked around to him, catching his attention he turned to look at me. "Please don't let me get too drunk and die" he laughed. "I'm serious. I get weird when I get drunk and I will try and run off." He nodded, saluting causing me to laugh.

"I'll make sure you don't die, but I think being weird would make Arthur happy to have good content." I shrugged, it was fair enough.

We bounced around from a few different pubs, taking a few shots and attempting to split the G, which I failed miserably at. "How the fuck do you drink this?" I questioned, pushing the drink towards George who happily accepted it from me. He grabbed the glass, downing it in just a few drinks. I stared in amazement.

"You've had what," I counted on my hands "six or seven drinks now? How are you not drunk?" I asked.

He shrugged in response. "That's what I'm saying!" ArthurTV chimed in.

"Guess I'm just better than everyone?" George smirked. I slapped his arm lightly, knowing I was well on my way to being pissed in a matter of another drop of alcohol.

Arthur Hill decided it was time to take it to the streets, wanting to find something else to do as it was nearing 7pm. We passed a few shops, nothing really catching our eyes until we found a vintage shop that Arthur Hill and I got way too excited about. With all of us walking side by side, Arthur and I decided in our nearly drunken states to race to the shop.

"Last inside pays for dinner!" I said before running off, leaving George and ArthurTV behind as Arthur Hill and I ran off.

We found a bunch of cool knickknacks, and some vintage clothes that we ended up purchasing before heading to a restaurant not far away for dinner.

Once again, Arthur began to feed us drink after drink - playing a few drinking games - mainly rock paper scissors because we had lost all creativity with the amount of alcohol we had consumed.

Deciding to call it quits, we tallied up our drinks. George had won by a landslide of course, leaving the three of us in the dust. I was just happy I had at least beat Arthur Hill.

On the way back to the train, I had noticed George was quieter than usual, not making his normal jokes and conversation with me or the boys.

"Everything alright?" I asked him, nudging him slightly as we walked next to each other.

"Yeah yeah, fine." He gave me a half smile. I felt something was off but I couldn't pin something specific that could have been upsetting.

We got onto the train, our banter dying down as we all realized how late it was, and how much we had to drink. The boys dozed off, and our cameraman for the day sat across the walkway from us, starting to filter through the footage while I mindlessly scrolled through my phone.

"Y/n," he gestured to the laptop showing me some of the footage from the day. I squinted, trying to place this exact part of the day. It was as we were walking to the vintage shop.

I watched the scene I had lived a few short hours ago, and a realization washed over me as I watched the video.

A few moments before Arthur and I were going to sprint towards the shop, George had reached down for my hand, narrowly missing it before I began to sprint off. The camera caught the accidental airing of his hand holding, and his reaction. He signed and looked towards ArthurTV. "This has to be the universe telling me to stop trying" George said.

My jaw was basically on the floor of the train car after that statement. I had to be the most oblivious person on earth.

Snapped out of my thoughts, which apparently had been happening for awhile as we were now back at kings cross. "Coming?" George asked.

I stood up, grabbing my bag and following the boys off the train.

Their flat wasn't far from mine, so we all shared an uber to theirs and I decided to walk back to mine. "Walk me home?" I asked George as we got out of the car. He nodded, following me as we started the short walk.

I looked up to him as we walked together, taking in his features. He looked handsome as always, his hair now growing out more with little curls sticking out at the back. Almost instinctively I reached down and grabbed his hand. He tensed instantly, his head snapping down to our hands now intertwined.

"I didn't mean to run away from you" I said softly. He smirked, turning his head slightly to hide the blush on his face.

“I could have just told you I wanted to hold your hand instead of being a weirdo about it, to be fair.” I laughed. We had now made it into my building.

“Or I could have told you I had a crush on you” I admitted. It felt so weird to be admitting this to one of my closest friends.

“You have a crush on me?” He gave me that signature George smirk that makes your heart flutter. We stopped at the door of my flat, and I leaned my back onto it.

“And what if I do Clarkey?” I retorted, playing into his flirtatious nature.

He didn’t say anything, putting his hands on either side of me on my door. He leaned down, pressing his lips to mine in a sweet kiss. I tangled my hands in his hair, deepening the kiss, tasting the alcohol he had consumed tonight.

Pulling back for air, I smiled at him, giving him a few more small kisses. “Come inside?” I asked, knowing where this would lead.

“Absolutely.” He followed me inside.

[saltcxrcle]

drunken words ↼ d. winchester

summary: drunk you isn't the best at keeping their mouth shut

pairings: dean winchester x reader, dean winchester x gn! reader, platonic sam winchester x reader

requested: yes/no: by @traiitorjoe; thank you for sending your request!

word count: 3.0K

warnings: no use of 'y/n', none really, some cursing, a little bit of fluff, sam being a meddling little shit, some angst, kinda edited

a/n: i got this request in july and i felt so bad for having put it off for so long but here we have it! there is a potential for a pt.2 so if anyone wants that lmk lol

but enjoy the fic! please like, comment, and reblog!! your feedback fuels me!

[here's my taglist; read rules before sending in an ask]

𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

Dealing with the Winchesters always felt like a Herculean task when you would run into them while you were on a hunt. The first time you ran into them was when they barged into the farmhouse that you were staking out for a nest of vampires. They went in, guns blazing, and you cursed them out under your breath as you hurriedly left the hiding spot you were in and rushed into the nest to help them clean out. 

It was safe to say that they were surprised and confused by your anger when you guys had killed all of the vamps. You didn’t recognize them at first when they first ran into the farmhouse, but now that you were standing there and really looking at them, you instantly knew that these were the infamous Winchester brothers you’d heard from Bobby and other hunters.  

Regardless of who they were, you were furious that they had messed up the hunt that you were on, and they were on the receiving end of your fury while they looked at you dumbfounded. After you were done yelling at them, you left the farmhouse fuming and decided to leave them with the cleanup job. 

The brothers were so confused by you that they didn’t even think to ask for your name. They also were slightly scared by your fury, and they failed to realize that you clearly knew who they were, but they had no idea who you were, only that they had taken over your hunt and were really mad about it. Dean only hoped that he wouldn’t run into you ever again. 

But as fate was a fickle thing, you would run into the brothers on your next hunt in a small town in Oregon, where a witch was terrorizing the men of the town, and it just so happened that you had arrived at the station the same time they did. You had to play along with them until you got the information you needed, and then when you tried to leave the station before them, a hand slammed your door before you could get into your car. 

You turned around to be met with emerald green eyes filled with irritation and thinly veiled curiosity. 

“Did you need something Winchester?” You said with a scowl etched into your face. 

Dean scoffed as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah, answers. Who the hell are you?” 

“What’s it matter to you?” 

“Because you’re a hunter and we could use some help on this case.” Sam interjected, and your eyes were ripped away from the man in front of you. You almost forgot about the taller Winchester that was lingering behind Dean. 

You raised an eyebrow at Sam while Dean’s head jerked over his shoulder and glared at his brother. Sam stared back at his brother with raised brows, sending him a look that said, ‘What? It doesn’t hurt to ask.’ 

“I don’t think your brother here is keen on working with me.” 

“You’re damn right I’m not. You went off on us for no reason and left us to clean up.” 

You couldn’t help but smirk at the thought of them cleaning up the plethora of severed heads and bodies from that farmhouse. But you ignored Dean's words as you contemplated the offer Sam was proposing. 

“Fine I’ll help, but you’ll have to follow my lead on this one.” 

Sam nodded, agreeing with you, and sent you a dimpled smile. 

Dean opened his mouth to protest but was cut off by you slicing the air with your hand in front of his face. 

“Zip it Winchester, either you listen to me or I leave you high and dry on this hunt.” You waved around the copy of the case file that you convinced the Sheriff to give you before leaving the station. 

Dean all but glared at you and stomped towards the black Chevy Impala that was parked down the street. You couldn’t help but smirk at Dean’s grumpy attitude, and Sam told you which motel they were staying in and followed them to it. 

With three heads instead of one (more like two since Dean barely did any research and stuck you and Sam with it), you guys found the witch in no time and disposed of her swiftly. You had to admit that working with the brothers was more manageable than working on your own. But you knew that this had to be a one-off occurrence because you had heard about all of the craziness that surrounded the Winchesters. You were not keen on being pulled into any of it. 

Once the hunt was over, Sam gave you his number and told you to call if you needed help or vice versa. You took it to be polite, but you knew that you weren’t going to call them unless your life depended on it. The three of you went your separate ways before Destiny decided to play her games, and somehow, you ended up working on most of the hunts the brothers were working on. 

It’s like some higher power wanted you to work the Winchesters against your better wishes. Alas, you ended up working with them every time because you couldn’t resist Sam Winchester’s pleading puppy dog eyes. But you got on quite well with Sam, and he slowly became a good friend of yours. 

But your relationship with Dean, on the other hand… Well, let’s just say you had a mutual hatred for each other. You guys practically fought like cats and dogs anytime you interacted, and the two of you couldn’t help but let snide comments leave your lips each time the other was wrong or messed up. Both of you bickered like an old married couple that should have divorced a long time ago, so much so that Sam had to be the mediator constantly if you were to work with the brothers. If he hadn’t, he wasn’t sure if you were either going to throw a punch or fuck each other. 

Dean Winchester is an incredibly infuriating man, and you hated that you found him attractive. It wasn’t lost on you that both of the brothers were hot, like they should be on the cover of a magazine hot, but there was something about Dean that drew you to him more. You didn’t want him to know that, so you hid your attraction for him through your sarcastic demeanor. Eventually, Sam had enough of your bickering that held so much sexual tension that he locked the two of you in the motel room he and Dean were sharing until the two of you could have a civil conversation. 

Sam had left the two of you for a couple of hours. He was half expecting to find the two of you naked in Dean’s bed, but when he unlocked the door, he saw the two of you on separate beds and watching a random movie that was playing on the TV in the room.

In the time that Sam was gone, you guys had bickered and gotten in each other’s faces, but you eventually admitted that it was tiring to keep up the fact that you didn’t exactly hate Dean since the moment you met him and to your surprise, he admitted the same thing. After that, you guys sat on separate beds, finding some common ground between the two of you, and watched whatever was on the TV. 

After that incident, the two of you still argued like a married couple, but there wasn’t any heat behind your words, and it turned into friendly banter between you and the older Winchester. Months went by, and you found yourself as the unofficial third partner to the brothers, accompanying them on the majority of the hunts that they picked up.  

You didn’t know how it happened, but to your utter shock and horror, along the way of becoming friends with Dean Winchester, you developed feelings for him. Of course, you had no idea when you started to feel like this around Dean. Sam was perceptive, caught onto your change in behavior, and had basically interrogated you when he saw you glare at the woman Dean decided to take home that night, trying to ignore the stinging sensation in your chest as he left the bar the three of you were at. 

You had vehemently denied that you felt anything for Dean, but all Sam said in response was a shit-eating grin and gave you a look that said, ‘Yeah, you’re lying, and I know it.’ 

Once Sam had figured out that you liked his brother, he stopped at nothing to leave the two of you alone in hopes that you’d put on your big kid pants and admit your feelings towards him (spoiler alert, you never did). As much as you loved Sam, you honestly wanted to punch him in the face every time he urged you to tell Dean about your feelings. 

You knew that Dean wasn’t a touchy-feely kind of guy, and you definitely knew that he wasn’t one for love or relationships, as evident with the women he picked up at bars after successful hunts. Did your heart clench any time you saw the satisfied smirk on his face the morning after the night out at the bar? You wouldn’t admit it to anyone but yourself, but yeah, it did. 

Now, after a successful hunt, you and the Winchesters found yourselves at the bar across the street from the motel you were staying in. The three of you were at a booth at the corner of the bar, and you had gotten the first round of drinks for each of you. But when Dean volunteered to grab the third round (Sam had gotten the second one), Sam said he was turning in for the night and shot you a sly smile, and you knew exactly what he meant by it. You glared at him briefly before telling him goodnight through gritted teeth (Dean had seen this interaction between you and his brother and was confused by it but brushed it off).

Sam left, and Dean turned to you. “Still want a drink?” He asked. 

You nodded in response, and Dean shot you a small smile before his knuckles knocked on the table, and he made his way toward the bar. A couple of minutes had passed, and Dean wasn’t back from the bar. You looked up from your empty glass to see him being chatted up by a woman dressed to the nines, and clearly, Dean was into her. 

You let out a harsh breath before shaking your head, getting up from the booth, heading to the opposite side of the bar Dean was at, and ordering a vodka soda. You downed in quickly and told the bartender to keep the drinks coming. You didn’t know how many you had until you heard a gruff voice telling the bartender to give you water instead of another drink. You could vaguely recognize Dean’s voice through your drunken haze. 

You turned around in your seat to see Dean right next to you with furrowed brows. “You alright there, kid?” 

Dean hadn’t seen you this drunk before, so he was half concerned but also half amused by the cute pout you had on your face. 

“M’not a kid.” You slurred out, irritated. You hated the nickname that Dean had given you; you weren’t much younger than Dean, you were the same age as Sam. 

“Then why are you pouting like you didn’t get the candy you asked for?” Dean asked, his tone amused. 

You couldn’t help but scowl at him and look around for the woman he was talking to earlier. “Where’s the girl-*hiccup* you were talking to?” You questioned, dazed. 

Dean’s face had scrunched up. “Turns out she plays for the same team.” He muttered lowly, but you managed to hear it through the bar chatter. 

You couldn’t help but burst out in drunken giggles at Dean’s failed attempt to take someone home. Dean looked at you, slightly embarrassed, but couldn’t help but smile at the sound of your laughter. 

“Okay, we should probably get you back to your room.” Dean coaxed you off of the bar stool you were sitting on before paying for the tabs and leading you out of the bar. Dean had tucked you into his side as you walked on wobbly legs across the street to the motel. 

Once you reached your room (which was coincidentally right next to the boys’ room). Dean asked where you had your key. You were leaning into Dean, so his question was spoken into your ear quietly, and it sent a shiver down your spine. 

���M’back pocket.” You mumbled out. 

You didn’t see this as your eyes were closed as you rested your head against his shoulder, but his eyes widened at the realization that he’d have to grab it from your jeans pocket. 

“If you remember this in the morning, please don’t punch me, I swear I wasn’t trying to cop a feel.” He had muttered something else under his breath, but you were too out of it to notice what he said. 

Dean managed to get your room key out of your pocket and unlocked your door. He led the two of you inside, and when you saw your bed, you quickly ripped yourself from Dean’s embrace and fell face-first into bed, uncaring if you were still in jeans. 

Dean chuckled at you, and you looked up at him with a pout. “Are you laughing at me?”  

He shook his head, trying to stifle his amusement. “No, of course not.” 

You squinted suspiciously at him before sitting up and pawing at your combat boots. You were fumbling with the laces until you felt a warm hand cover yours. You looked up and found Dean kneeling on the floor in front of you. You couldn’t help but stare at him as he untied your boots for you and pulled them off of your feet. 

“You’re pretty.” You couldn’t help but blurt out drunkenly. 

Dean laughed, his green eyes sparkling with mirth. “Maybe I should get you drunk often, maybe you’ll compliment me more.” He sent you one of his smug smirks before standing up and heading toward the small kitchenette in your room.

He filled a glass with water before heading to the bathroom. He grabbed some aspirin that was stored in the medicine cabinet (you had no idea that he knew where you stored your painkillers). He came over to the bed with the water and painkillers and set them on the nightstand.

As he was bustling around your room, you had managed to wiggle off your jeans and get underneath the covers of the bed.  You looked at Dean underneath the warm lighting of the lamp that illuminated the room. His freckles were prominent in this lighting, and you couldn’t help but stare at his side profile. 

Dean noticed your intense gaze on him and smirked down at you after setting the water and aspirin on your nightstand. “See something you like?” He gently teased. Dean felt his hand twitch, trying to resist the temptation to brush back the stray hairs on your forehead. 

“Mhm, I like your face.” You smiled in a drunken bliss before your eyes fluttered. “I like you a lot actually.” You said before you felt the pull of sleep tug at your eyes. 

Your eyes shut, and your breathing evened out as you succumbed to sleep, leaving Dean standing in shock next to you. He looked down at your sleeping form before shaking his head. He’d deny the fact he felt his heartbeat quicken at your drunken admission. Dean quickly left your room and entered his shared room with Sam. 

Lucky for him, Sam was sound asleep in his bed, and Dean quickly got ready for bed, trying to ignore the fact you may or may not have shared the same feelings as he did. 

You woke up with a groan. Your head was pounding. You saw through your bleary eyes that there were some painkillers left out with a glass of water right next to them on your nightstand. You sat up as quickly as you could and grabbed the things off the nightstand. You downed some of the water before taking the aspirin and then drinking the rest of the water. 

You put the glass back on the nightstand before crawling back under the covers, wanting to let the ache in your head subside slightly before getting ready for the day. But fate was not on your side because pounding came from your door, making pain shoot through your head, and Dean waltzed into your room with a bag of food and a wide smirk on his face. 

“Rise and shine, kid!” He said enthusiastically. 

You shot up from your spot on the bed and glared at him. “I hate you. And stop calling me kid.” 

“Well, that’s not what you said last night.” Dean smirked knowingly. 

Your heart dropped to your stomach; what the hell did you say last night? “What do you mean?” 

Dean placed the food on the table before leaning on its edge. “Do you not remember what you said last night?” 

You shook your head. “Nope. Last thing I remember was you leading me out of the bar.” 

Dean's smirk faltered. He wasn’t expecting that. “You don’t remember anything at all after that?” 

“No. Why did I say anything important?” 

Dean cleared his throat, trying to seem nonchalant and hide what he was actually feeling. He shook his head. 

“Uh, no. But I got you some grub, we’re gonna head out in 30 so be ready then.” He said stiffly before leaving the room. Not looking at you once before the door closed with a click. 

You stared at the door, confused. That was probably the most awkward Dean had ever been around you. But you shook it off and decided to pack up and eat the breakfast Dean got you. 

You’d figure out what you said to Dean later. 

[slytherinshua]

ON THE BLEACHERS

summary. your boyfriend is unapologetically whipped for you. here are all the things he does!!! genre. fluff. headcanons. christmassy juyeon!!! warnings. a lil violence mention. juyeon is adorable. not proofread. other than that nothing but fluff <3 pairing. jock!juyeon x nerd!fem!reader. (not specifically like nerd but... mentioned that reader wins a science fair and aces a test etc so leaning more towards jock x nerd trope.) wc. 1.8k. request. requested by 🗿 anon. a/n. i literally had SO many thoughts for this juyeon like OH MY GOD. net. @deoboyznet

jock!juyeon who was always obvious with his admiration for you even before he confessed. the entire school knew that he only had eyes for you and it was just a matter of when you would get together. the football team celebrated even more than juyeon when you became his girlfriend because they thought he would finally shut up about you. oh, how wrong they were…

jock!juyeon who simply can’t shut up about you!! sometimes he’ll just be talking to himself out loud, wondering what date he should take you on, what you would like as a gift, or what time you were free, etc. other times he’s yapping his teammates’ ears off about you because he’s so in love. he’s telling everyone about how you won the science fair that year, how you got 100 on your recent test, or how you slayed your english presentation (he knew because he missed his math class to watch you through the door). when it comes to you, he just can’t shut up, he’s so in love…

jock!juyeon who hears his teammates tease him all the time, calling him whipped or a simp. he couldn’t care less… in fact he’s proud of the fact that he’s absolutely whipped for you. because it’s you!! you deserve all the attention and affection you get from juyeon and he would never let petty comments from his teammates second guess how he acts around you. most of them are just mad that they can’t pull someone as gorgeous as you, anyway. at least, that’s what juyeon told you in a very upset ramble after-the-fact. you had to kiss away his pout.

jock!juyeon who wouldn’t hesitate to think with his fists if he ever heard them talking shit about you. he knows you would never advise physical fights, but he can barely control his anger when he hears something foul come out of someone’s mouth followed by your name. he’ll try his best to harshly shut them down with just words, but if they persist, his fists might just land on their nose. he has to sit through your scolding after the fact, but he would do it again in a heart beat. he doesn’t even care if he got suspended.

jock!juyeon who has no regard for being on time to classes or practice. his only concern is walking you to your classes, holding your hand in the hallway, giving you a sweet smile and wishing you luck before a test, and, of course, getting a kiss on the cheek before the bell rings. there’s rarely a day when he’s not 5-10 minutes late. he’s also extremely forgetful with his mind only being focused on you that he has to rely on you to have his textbooks and schedule for his next class. he was a little bashful at first when you’re handing him his textbooks and notebook and ushering him off to his class as you step into yours. but now he’s gotten used to it, and he quite likes it. especially when you leave little notes inside his notebook.

jock!juyeon who sprints through the hallways despite the no running policy after first quarter is done because second quarter is history which is a shared class he has with you. he literally gets to your classroom before you’ve even finished packing your bag. of course, he carries all your books and your bag for you regardless of if you have a shared class but especially this time since you’ll be walking in together. he always sits next to you, even the teacher can’t separate you two because he’ll find a way back to your desk sdkjskd. he always nudges your feet under the table or writes little notes on the paper if you’re not allowed to talk in class. you have to force him to pay attention with the bribe of kisses after school (which is always an effective bribe). he can’t even focus on taking notes or listening to the lesson because he’s too busy staring at you the entire time. but if you’re tired in class he will kindly offer to take notes for you both instead and he really does focus hard on writing everything down. his technique for note taking is lacking a bit but it’s still functional and informative enough for you that you don’t mind </3 it’s obvious that he tried his best for you and that is enough to warm your heart :(

jock!juyeon who is on the basketball team as well as the football team. whether it’s football or basketball, he’s the mvp and ace of both teams. although, his playing is wildly affected by you. he plays his best when he talks to you before games and knows you’re in the audience watching him. he’ll make every shot, and carry the entire team easily. but when you’re not there his game is completely off. he’ll miss shots that were easy, he’ll stumble and fall or even get injured and have to go to the nurse’s office. his brain is completely foggy when you’re not there or if there’s anything going on with you that he’s concerned about. especially when you’re sick or not at school for some reason the only thing he can think about is you. his coaches barely have to ask when they see that he’s not playing as well as normal— it’s always something to do with you. they let him take a short break to text you, and oftentimes, it gets his game right back where it should be.

jock!juyeon who swears his heart fell out of his chest when he first saw you wearing his basketball jersey. something in his brain or dna just SHIFTED right then and there he’s so obsessed. the second he saw you he kissed you so desperately like omg you looked SO pretty in his jersey he went absolutely insane. he always leaves his freshly washed jerseys in your locker and whenever you show up wearing them to watch him practice or his games he plays better than EVER. his coaches aren’t too happy about the fact that he keeps “misplacing” his jerseys and uniforms, but they order new ones for their star player regardless. they know their sports team would be in the dirt without juyeon. his talent always makes up for any recklessness he pulls.

jock!juyeon who always searches for you in the crowd before the game starts so he knows exactly where to look when he scores. he’ll blow you kisses or just smirk and wink at you when he scores an impressive point. or when he’s playing basketball he’ll point to you in the crowd and smile so everyone knows he’s always playing for you. although he’s attractive enough that several girls on the cheerleading team would kill to have a chance with him, their thoughts are immediately shut down the first game, as they watch from the sidelines as juyeon dedicates every last field goal to you.

jock!juyeon who loves to take you to the gym or field for extra practices with just him. you usually do schoolwork on the bleachers or grass while he runs laps or drills some hoops. usually it’s productive for the first half an hour or so until juyeon gets too bored of having you there but not paying attention to him. he might teach you some shots or coach you on how to handle the ball. other times he’s more interested in kissing you while you try (and fail) to focus on your science homework…

jock!juyeon who asks you out to prom and homecoming and all the school events just like any other boy with a crush would. everyone in the school knows you’ll go together and knows you’ll be accompanying him everywhere even if he didn’t ask. but juyeon loves preparing flowers and a big banner and all the extra stuff possible when asking you out, so even though you’ve been happily together for months, he’ll still ask you out as if you weren’t even dating yet. he still gets all warm in the face when you say yes.

jock!juyeon who is your biggest motivator. you barely notice how important he is to your life because he’s always there 24/7. but on the rare occasion that he stays home sick or can’t make it for any reason, you, too, struggle to focus on your classes. you’re so worried about him, it just comes so naturally. he’s not on your mind front and center as much as you are on his, but he’s always there in the back of your mind regardless. you care about him just as much as he cares about you, you’re just more covert in your way of showing it. while you prefer quieter actions like kissing his cheek, cheering from the sidelines, or writing him notes for his classes, juyeon wears his heart on his sleeve. he’s dedicating every single second of his life to you, and making sure everyone around him knows that you are his.

jock!juyeon who follows you around like a lost puppy. he really just lets you take the lead, he’s just happy as long as he’s beside you. the only thing is, he has to be holding your hand. he’s really big on that. always holding your hand in the hallways, only letting go when the second bell rings. he holds your hand during lunch too, and if he can't, his hand is around your waist or on your thigh. he’s so clingy and touchy, but you love it. the only time you won’t allow him to be clingy is when he’s sweaty from a game or practice. but this boy will take a shower so fast just so you agree to hug him again.

jock!juyeon who is hard on himself when he doesn’t play well during games. he still feels the pressure of being the mvp of the team even though he has great support from his coaches and you. if anything happens during the game, he blames himself. you always have to cheer him up and talk him through what went wrong. telling him it’s not his fault and that he did the best he could. he’ll only feel better once he hears your soft words while patting his back. and you always make sure to give him a kiss when you’re done talking too <3

jock!juyeon who shares all his highs with you. when he got accepted onto the national team for university, you’re right there with him congratulating him and being his biggest cheerleader. he’s there through your biggest highs as well, more proud of you than anyone else when you got into your dream university. he was honestly sweating it before you opened your acceptance letter because your dream university happened to be the one he got into on scholarship, and he was so scared he’d have to spend his university years apart from you. he couldn’t be happier that he’ll be right by your side throughout university as well. he hopes after those years, he’ll not only be able to call you his girlfriend, but also see a ring on your finger.

↳ the boyz taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @blossominghunnie,, @cosmicwintr,, @weird-bookworm,, @haecien,,

@lecheugo,, @seunghancore,, @heavenfilm,, @recordsfilm,, @bananabubble,,

@talking-saxy,, @cupidslovearrows

[yoiisa]

IT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT ⋆˙⟡ MICHAEL KAISER

"Tell me that you're still mine, Tell me that we'll be just fine, Even when I lose my mind, I need to say, Tell me that it's not my fault, Tell me that I'm all you want, Even when I break your heart." - "Afterglow" by Taylor Swift all characters aged up (20+)! Tags: arguments between you two, hurt and comfort Kaiser gets mean and crowds your space. He doesn't touch you, but still proceed with caution! Makeup sex!! CW for vaginal sex (reader is afab), unprotected intercourse (please wrap it before you tap it!), body worship, slight praise kink please proceed with caution ^3^! not proofread.

a/n: This is part of a little series I doing where I'm writing BLLK fics for each of my fav songs on all the T Swift albums. I already did Bachira's, which is linked. His song was off of Fearless. This song was off of Lover, so if you want a specific album next, let me know in the asks or comments.

I consider Lover and Reputation to be complimentary albums, so when I was brainstorming for this series, I knew that Kaiser and Isagi had to be paired for these two albums. Little spoiler ig for which album Isagi will be! Again, this is also a smutty fic, so proceed with caution! Now lessgo!

The sky is blue, grass is green, and Michael Kaiser can easily become the meanest person in the world. It's like a fact of life. Normally, he could keep it to cheeky remarks with you. Aside from teasing comments, he would only ever treat you as a princess- buying you whatever you wanted, littering your neck with kisses while you cook, and immediately scooping you into his arms whenever you complained that your feet were in pain. However, that doesn't mean anything when he's mad. When Kaiser got mad, all pretenses were gone.

"Oh come on!" he scoffs, plopping down on the couch. "You really think I'd go for something as low as some random chick at the bar?!"

"Michael, it's not about that!!" you shout. "It's about the fact that you didn't turn her down until I pointed something out!"

"What was I supposed to do?! Shove her off?"

"Tell her to leave you alone!"

He leans forward and narrows his eyes. "I told her to fuck off, if she-"

"You should've said it again!" you shout, tears beginning to burn into your eyes. You frantically blink them away, but a few manage to run down your face regardless. "You should've said it over and over and over-"

"Don't tell me you're actually crying over this! Are you that insecure?! Are you that big of a fucking baby?!" he laughs humorlessly and leans forward on his knees.

Your heart squeezes and you shake your head as more tears run down your cheeks. "Stop. Stop it right now."

Kaiser stands and paces near the couch for a little bit, laughing incredulously at your behavior. "Of course. Of course. What should I expect but you fucking crying over this bullshit? Of course you're standing there, whimpering like a fucking bitch who has no sense of self whatsoever! Of course you always assume the worst of my behavior! I told you in the car that I told her to leave me alone! I just repeated it five seconds ago and you still-! Ahhh!" he throws his hands up in frustration and lets a coarse shout carve its way from his throat. "Du kannst mich mal!

"Michael-"

"Did you not stop for a moment and think that I was also uncomfortable?! Did you not consider-" he's so angry.

The girl had been ugly as all hell, but also very clearly drunk out of her mind. Perhaps being around you had softened him some though, because no matter what, he couldn't find it in himself to get overtly aggressive with her. He made comments ranging from passive aggressive to downright direct, all sharing the same consensus of "Get lost, you fucking weirdo," but she was drunk. She couldn't take a hint! It wasn't his fault! And here you were, acting like it was!

He couldn't breathe. He was seeing red.

"MICHAEL!" your voice is high and shrill. It wavers as fear overloads your body and you start to sob.

That's when he realizes it. He's left the couch completely and has you crowded back against the kitchen counters. The edge of the island digs into your lower back, and your eyes are wide with fear and now freely letting tears fall. He's in your face, his breath ghosting against your cheeks, and his hands are caging you so you have nowhere to run.

Instead, your legs fully give out. Your knees buckle and you drop to the ground, trembling. You kneel on the floor in front of him with your head bowed low and tears falling onto the marble tiles of the kitchen. Kaiser stares down at you, his chest growing tight as he takes desperate breaths, trying to calm himself down.

I didn't touch them, he thinks frantically. I just yelled at them, but I didn't touch them. I would never touch them like that, I would-

. . . I made them scared of me.

On the field, he was Kaiser. he had to be formidable. He had to be scary and intimidating and powerful, but here? With you? The idea of you being scared of him was too much to bear. He wanted to drop to his knees as well and beg for your mercy. Sob and plead for your forgiveness. If you asked, he'd march right back to the bar and kill that woman. It'd make you happy right?

But no. He's staring at your trembling stature right now, and there was no way for him to fix this. Michael would be lucky if you even stayed in the apartment tonight, or stayed with him in this relationship, period.

"Liebe . . ." It's an unconscious thing, his whispered word. It's so involuntary in fact, that he staggers back from you once he realizes that he spoke at all. He chokes out a wretched sound before cupping his hand over his mouth.

I didn't touch them, I didn't hurt them-

No. I did.

"I need air," his voice is hoarse and deep. "I need . . . I'll be back. I . . ." he can't manage an end to that sentence. He hurries off, quickly grabbing his coat and keys before leaving the apartment entirely, leaving you curled in on yourself on the floor.

--------------------------------------

It's really late once you've finally finished getting ready for bed. Kaiser still hasn't come home. You're wiping down your bathroom sink as you reflect on the events of the day. You look up into the mirror as you put the sponge back behind the spout and take in your wrecked appearance. Your hair is a little frizzy and dull, your cheeks glow red from crying, and you’re dressed in sleeping shorts and one of Kaiser’s old shirts.

Had you really been too pushy? Perhaps, but . . . but Michael was your boyfriend! He had a responsibility on his end of the relationship to uphold. He had to be faithful!

Had you just been too jealous to realize he'd been trying to get rid of the girl? Now that you're thinking back to the evening, he did seem really annoyed by her presence.

I wish I could say sorry, you think, before fresh tears roll down your face and into the basin of the sink. Your shoulders shake and you let out a few tiny hiccups as the sobs wrack your frame one and a time. Where is he? I'll call him and ask when he's coming home.

You wipe your face on the back of your hand and spin to leave the bathroom. As you open the door to the bathroom, you run right into a chest. You yelp in surprise as a pair of familiar hands take your arms by your elbow.

You look up and come face to face with a red-eyed Kaiser. His face is dry, but his nose is red too.

"Micha?" you whisper, and you see a light spark in his eyes. "W-were you drinking?"

He chuckles deeply and shakes his head vehemently. "No. No . . ."

"Your eyes . . ."

He leans down and you lean up a little bit. Your foreheads press together, as his left hand drifts up your bicep and the other drops to the dip in your waist.

"Micha," you mutter as your hands come up to his face. You cup his cheeks and brush your thumbs along his skin.

"Yes liebe?"

A tear runs down your face again as you kiss him deeply. His left hand cups the back of your head while the right hand draws you flush against him.

With your eyes closed, you can't see what he's doing, but Kaiser starts moving the two of you around. You pull apart when he lays you down on the plush covers of your bed. You scoot up into the middle of the mattress as Kaiser drops his jacket onto the floor and practically rips his shirt up and over his head. He lowers himself over you and nibbles at your neck

"I'm sorry," he breathes against the juncture of your neck and shoulder. You shiver and he presses a kiss against your skin. "I . . . I didn't mean to scare you like that. You know I'd never hurt you right?"

You nod, only half listening to whatever he's saying. You just want him to keep touching you, which thankfully he is. His large hands are pushing the hem of your shirt up your body, revealing your stomach and underboob. You sit up and he slowly takes the rest of the shirt off your body, leaving the two of you topless.

You take initiative now, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him down for a kiss.

"Mmmph- Y/N," he gasps.

"Shhh," you coo before diving in for another kiss.

Kaiser pulls back from your mouth and shakes his head. "Mein herz, we need to talk-"

"We will," you say firmly cutting him off, "but right now . . . right now I just. I need to know you're mine."

"I am," he says firmly. "I am always yours. Meine leibe, mein schatz, und meines lebens."

Your mouths connect again, moving in perfect unison. He sucks your tongue and you moan softly. You spend the next few minutes making out with one another, your hands caressing his back and his kneading your breasts.

You keen into his mouth, the sound chasing his lips as he finally pulls back. Both of you are magnificently flushed now and you can't help but giggle softly.

"What?" he asks, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger as he narrows his brows in confusion.

Your eyes flick from the rosy pink coating his pale skin, the bleached white-blond of his hair, and the blue ends. "You look like cotton candy right now."

He's silent for a moment, before the corner of his mouth twitches up. "Really?" he asks.

"Mmmm," you hum and peck his lips. "And you taste like it too. You're so sweet."

He kisses you back and murmurs into your mouth, "You're sweeter."

In a flurry of kisses and roaming hands, you're left in nothing but your panties and he is completely naked. His belt, jeans, and boxers lie scattered around the room, and your sleeping shorts are at the foot of the bed.

You’re straddling his lap, and Kaiser reaches around and gropes your ass, palming the flesh. You trace a line of kisses up his neck, tracing the rose tattoo with your tongue, before continuing your path along his jaw. When he pulls your hips forward to grind his aching cock against your clothed slit, you bite nibble his earlobe and whimper.

"I feel you," he groans, "through these pretty panties. You're already so wet."

He reaches a finger past the waistband, but before he can touch, you take his wrist and pull back. Staring into his sea blue eyes, you say, "I don't want foreplay, just . . ."

"Just what?"

God, he has to tease, even now? "Just put . . . your cock in. I just wanna feel it."

Kaiser wastes no time. He practically drops you onto the bed and hooks his fingers in your waistband of your underwear.

"Lift your hips for me, love," he whispers, and when you comply he drags them down your legs and tosses them behind his back.

He crawls up your body once more, before finally positioning the head of his cock at your entrance. When the tip initially stretched the ring of your opening, you bite your lip and whimper.

"Shhh, meine leibe," he whispers in your ear, before moving his hips forward more and finally sinking into your sweet pussy. "You've taken it before, just relax."

"I know," you sigh. You take a few deep breathes, trying to relax and open up more for him. " 'ts deep. . ."

"I know schatz, I know," he kisses your temple, then your cheek, then finally suckling your nipple.

You gasp and arch your back, the sudden wetness on your chest taking you by surprise. You arch your back and you finally become loose enough to fully take his cock deep within your body. When he bottoms out, he unlatches from your chest and groans into your ear.

"Wet- ugh. So wet and tight for me," he kisses your nose and you giggle.

"Give me a moment, I'll tell you when to move."

He nods and after a minute or so, you give him the go ahead.

You and Kaiser are no stranger to having sex, and have had a variety to boot. It's more common for him to rail you following a rough game or practice as a form of stress relief. He'll press you into the pillows and you drool as he pounds you from behind. That being said, he's just as good at this slow rhythym.

He takes slow, long strokes, pulling out almost entirely before thrusting deep into your cunt again. The tip of his cock kisses your sweet spot, and you can't stop the string of moans that spill from your mouth.

"Micha!" you gasp.

"Take it, my darling. You always take me so well, c'mon . . . c'mon," he growls in your ear. "I- ugh."

"I love you, ah~" you whimper, your back arching slightly. "Micha . . ."

He chuckles, and it morphs into another guttural sound as he quickens his pace ever so slightly. "It's so good meine leibe, mein schatz . . ."

"I love it, I love having you like this," you bury your face into the crook of his neck. "I don't wanna lose it."

"You wont," his voice is low and firm, his thrusts becoming more shallow and quicker yet. "I'll never let you go, you hear me Y/N? There's- ahh, ahh, there's no one else I want beneath me like this, taking my cock like such a good girl, my good girl."

"Micha, I think," you take his hand and guide it to the bulge in your lower tummy. He presses gently on it, and you keen. "I feel it, I'm going to cum soon."

"Yes," he groans, maintaining his newfound desperate pace. "Yes, Y/N, yes-"

"I'm cumming!" you cry out.

Kaiser groans and relishes in the sensation of your fluids soaking his shaft. With a few more quick pumps, he finally settles himself into your pussy with his own release. He silences his gasps of pleasure by biting down on your shoulder. His body shudders as his hips involuntarily continue to thrust into your heat, draining himself for all he's worth inside of you.

The rest of the night is a quiet affair, with another two rounds, and then aftercare. Kaiser massages the insides of your thighs after having wipes the skin clean. He brings you water and a small cookie, before you finally pass out on the sheets he's frankly too lazy to change right now. Still, he grabs a clean blanket from the living room and drapes that over you instead of the cum-stained ones beneath the two of you.

He quickly takes a shower before returning and nuzzling into beneath your chin, placing a quick kiss to the hollow of your throat before finally falling asleep.

--------------------------------------

The sun is floating through the curtains when he finally rouses from his sleep. Kaiser internally grumbles. Should've closed those before I went to bed.

He's no longer tucked into your body, but instead, your sitting up already, with your back against the headboard, another pajama shirt covering your torso and damp hair.

Kaiser pushes himself up and scoots closer to you, nuzzling into the bite mark he left the night before.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you," he murmurs against your skin. "I . . . I took things too far." When you remain silent, he asks, "You didn't think I was going to hurt you, did you?"

You smile and shake your head. You turn to face him, and he cups your cheeks in his hand, shifting into a more comfortable position.

"No, I known you wouldn't," you sigh, leaning into his touch, "but I was still scared when you got really close like that. I don't think I've ever seen you angry like that up close."

He sighs and shakes his head. "I'm sorry."

"Me too."

"You have nothing to apologize for," he says firmly.

"I still feel guilty, a little bit," you say. "I . . . I feel like I made it into a big deal, bigger than it needed to be anyways."

You roll your shoulders a bit and then shrug. "Then again, if it'd been me in your position, you might've actually killed the guy, so I don't know."

Kaiser blinks, trying to decipher if there was any humor in your words. When he finds a little, his smirk tugs at his mouth. "Maybe, but that's besides the point. I just want you to know . . . I'm sorry."

You stare into his eyes, the earnestness etched into his irises like that's where it's always been. Maybe it has with you though. He doesn't mess around when it comes to you after all.

"I forgive you, mein leiber," you whisper, nuzzling your nose with his.

a/n: WOOO WEEE SHE WAS A LONG ONE! Congrats on making it to the end and thank you for reading his beast of a fic.

Additionally, if y'all caught the reference to one of my fav book series in here, love ya for that!

Anyways, that's it for me! See ya ˙𐃷˙ !

[inkpot909]

Your Relationship Trope (Bucciarati’s Gang)

↳ Gender Neutral Reader. Takes place after the events of Part 5 in a everyone lives!AU.

A/n: It’s been a while! I had to take some time for personal matters, so sorry for my absence. I wrote something just a tad more breezy to help ease myself back into it; I really missed writing. I hope y’all enjoy!

Warning(s): None.

Giorno Giovanna

-> Love at First Sight

This deeply romantic, cheesy, guy.

Because of how much he prides himself on understanding, and by extension owning, his own thoughts and feelings- he could tell there was something drawing him to you the moment he met you. A gut feeling that he’d really care to know you better; one that he knows better than to ignore.

Good luck trying to hide anything from him yourself, either. He is as good at reading others as he is himself.

Therefore, if you felt immediately drawn to him as well, he’s going to notice. You might not say anything outright or maybe try to bury it deep down… but either way, he can tell.

Not that he minds your affections, of course. Giorno gets into this cheeky habit of dangling the concept of a potential relationship above your head. Just out of reach.

Yes, it’s in part because he wants to tease you. Seeing you grow flustered at his unapologetically forward flirtations… it never gets old.

But Giorno is also a very busy individual.

It’s difficult for him to plan meetups with you, being gone for days on end at times. Even up and leaving at the drop of a hat if the need arises. He takes his position seriously, and has been a rather involved Don since day one.

And Giorno is a sucker for the details, so he won’t make the final push to become official unless it’s the perfect moment.

Luckily for you, he’s a patient guy.

And as mentioned, he can read you like an open book. He knows you’re not looking at other men or women. Keenly aware you’re waiting for him to make some grand gesture.

Some guilt inevitably spawns whenever he gets extra busy, but your happiness at getting to see him again quickly puts those worries to rest for the time being.

All that in due time… after all, if it’s really true love, he is in no desire to rush.

That being said, the people in his inner circle would absolutely like him to rush. Who knows about his feelings for you? Everyone.

That’s not hyperbole, he’s fairly certain everyone around him can tell.

He will never shut up about you. In damn near any situation where it may be appropriate. Not in any situation that it would potentially reach your ears.

Mista himself has commented that he doesn’t know which he would prefer: Giorno before a relationship with you or during. Either way he’s ‘dealing with a lovesick fool.’

Giorno doesn’t care much, already knowing it’s something his closest friends ought to get used to. Confident in himself and what he picks up on.

After all, your smile says what his mind is already thinking.

Bruno Bucciarati

-> Reunited Childhood Friends

Bruno Bucciarati is a man that has stuck with the same haircut and pattern of clothing since he was twelve years old.

Of course he’s still not over you by the time of the inevitable reunion. Like Giorno, he’s definitely a ‘one love’ sort of man.

Getting contacted by you felt like a dream… but it also brought forth initial hesitation.

Due to the specific turn his life took, he had to leave a lot of things behind. Some more regrettable than others… and you were one of his biggest regrets for a long time.

Regardless, his heart won that day- as he agreed to meeting up with you faster than he would care to admit.

The excitement and build up to it after a date was set is a beast in of itself. The prospect of finally seeing you again after all these years fills his chest with a warmth he’s only ever associated with you.

His mind whirls, all his thoughts leading back to the hope that he’ll get to know the person you have matured into.

Your career, hobbies, how your family is doing, the path you’ve been walking down ever since he’d left its course far too long ago… and him praying there’s a distinct lack of a ring on your left hand.

Bruno’s glad to say that his hopes were well-placed. Upon seeing you again, you proved to be just as eager to know how he’s been doing all this time.

Your questions leave him feeling bittersweet; something he knew would happen.

How could he even begin to explain himself? Would he even want to? You deserve more than a short explanation or a lie. But he cannot and will not bring you into gang affairs either. And if he was honest…. where would he even begin?

“I committed murder to protect my father when I was twelve and ended up entangled in gang affairs. Sorry for not giving you a phone call.”

… it needs work, to put it lightly.

He’s not the type to succumb to fear but… it’s difficult not to stress over what you would think of him if he’s completely honest with you. It’s a testament to how deeply special you are to him; hardly ever getting this mentally worked up over anything outside his beloved team.

The push and pull of wanting to be honest with you- yet not wanting to risk putting a target on your back.

Whether it’s due to the years of separation or just the undeserved kindness you offer him, at some point, you admit to only thinking of those old days fondly.

Regardless of being quite startled with his sudden absence in your life, you couldn’t hold it against him. You knew of his parents divorce, and the last thing you had heard, was that Bruno’s father was in the hospital.

At first, he’s just resigns himself into being grateful you had it within yourself to forgive him.

But how can he hope to ignore… how lovely of a person you have grown up to be- inside and out. In the long run, it just doesn’t happen. His feelings truly snowballing for the first time in years.

Suddenly, he feels like a foolish child again. Only now, he must be doing something right because you could cause traffic to stop with the way you start to look at him.

There’s a warm nostalgia to you. Someone who knows him; truly knows him. Outside of his work and the contradictions he over for it for years.

And it gets to a point where Bruno resolves he must tell you how he feels. And by then, he won’t dally.

You’re back in his life again, and he’s sure as hell not leaving. Especially not without expressing his feelings.

Only took him short of nine years.

Leone Abbacchio

-> ‘We’re Just Coworkers’

He doesn’t necessarily meet people outside Passione, not one to go out of his way to seek companionship.

He has the team. He has Bucciarati. There isn’t much he wants, or feels like he can, ask for.

It’s because of this that you both are most likely to meet through the organization.

And there’s no doubt that Abbacchio is… apathetic to your position in the gang at first.

Now, he’s not as harsh on you as he was comparatively to Giorno. You’re not a fifteen year old with a savior complex and a tendency to act with a sort of righteous grandeur.

So, in short, you’re already doing great as far as he’s concerned.

Not that he warms up to you quickly; quite the opposite. Weeks will pass before he starts to slowly accept and involve you in any meaningful capacity. A guy like him just needs time to get used to someone so new to him… lots and lots of time.

Once that need has been met, he figures you’re alright.

Not bad company- in or out of Passione business. Far favorable to other people around him, as far as he’s concerned. He finds that you’re much better to converse with than Mista or Fugo.

It’s in his nature to compare a little bit, so when he starts seeing you from a fairer perspective�� that’s when a quiet appreciation forms.

Alas, his heart is not as immovable as he likes believing it to be.

Over time, the two of you start to metaphorically lean on one another.

It starts off professionally enough, relying on one another in the heat of battle. Then, it gets to a more personal level- quieter conversations maintained between the two of you beneath the usual noise of the others interacting just a foot or two away.

Still, you two only work together. It’s professional. Without question. At least, that’s the case if Abbacchio or you are asked about it directly.

But the others are oh-so-quick-to-point-out that him letting you crash on his bed during particularly exhausting nights is not exactly platonic behavior. Nor is just how sucked into conversations the two of you get, or how much time you spend one-on-one.

And Abbacchio is nothing if not the type to do the exact opposite of what everyone says.

He’s going to deny it for months. Hell, years if you let him.

Never mind the fact the two of you already act like a couple. Getting ‘mistaken’ as one when going out, regardless if it’s just the two of you or not. Each time, you’re both insistent that you’re merely work friends.

It would be ten times more frustrating if there wasn’t any truth to it that neither of you are prepared to admit to.

It takes a healthy amount of whack cartoonish logic for things to finally fall into place. Being locked in a small room for twenty minutes, or possibly an accidental kiss to the lips… that sort of thing.

Guido Mista

-> Coffee Shop Regular

Mista likes the simple things in life, no doubt.

There’s many ways that fact manifests. One example is that he often wanders around the city in order to check out local businesses. Diners, secondhand stores, and little coffee shops. He knows the area well, and likes sparking up conversations with the people he comes across.

And a cute worker at one of his favorite coffee shops? Makes his day even better, he’d figure.

He was already a regular at your place of employment long before you were hired. Meaning, when he saw a new face behind the counter, he had to offer a hello with a relaxed smile on his face.

And to his credit, it was incredibly easy to like him.

The type of customer who’s always in a decent mood, not too impatient, and always knowing what he wanted to order long before walking in.

Sprinkle in a pleasant ‘hello’ or a lighthearted joke every now and then, and he starts to notice your face brightening every time he enters the shop.

He won’t argue against the idea it fills him with something far deeper than pride.

Beyond finding you initially attractive, he considers you a good worker. He cannot imagine being a barista is always easy, but he’d care to point out that you make it look easy. You know his order by memory after a while, and conversation with you comes naturally.

And soon, the workplace barrier is finally shattered. Happening so casually it was practically thoughtless.

One day, Mista walked into the store just when you were sent on a break. He greeted you as always, and offered to sit with you while you decompressed with a cup of coffee of your own.

That’s when he’d say that something a bit more concrete formed. More real, past the relationship of worker and patron.

And he grows unapologetically forward by then too.

He’s not the type to hit on you at work, but certainly not above blatantly asking for your number after he felt it may be appropriate to do so.

He finds it to be a casual and natural progression, something that is in his nature to embrace.

Like Giorno, though, he’ll drag out the time before asking you out just in order to tease you. He doesn’t automatically figure out that you might be into him, but he’ll get the hint by the time you two start calling one another regularly.

He’s not easily affected by the others teasing him over you, either. He openly admits that he’s into you, why get embarrassed?

Now, if someone makes a comment about it in front of you, then he’ll get flustered. An emotion expressed through frustration and defensiveness.

Regardless of that, it’s such a relaxed progression that at some point he thinks meeting you may have been fate. There’s a ton of coffee shops all around Naples, yet you chose to work at one of the small handful he regularly likes visiting.

If his life is predetermined, like he believes it is, then he’s grateful fate is on his side.

Pannacotta Fugo

-> Friends to Lovers

This man looks at someone with a view on love like Giorno and scoffs with distain.

The notion of ‘love at first sight’ is one that is only entertained by foolish and idealistic individuals, according to Fugo. Rolling his eyes, a scoff escaping his lips… he thinks that mindset is ridiculous and is unafraid to express it.

Hell, romantic relationships aren’t even on his radar in general.

He doesn’t look down on or think negatively of anyone in one, of course. But it’s hardly ever on his mind. Focused on Passione and the team he is proud to be a part of.

And that doesn’t change one bit upon meeting you.

As usual, such a thing doesn’t cross his mind once. The prospect of a potential new ally and friend is the only one he cares to ponder, even if you start off on the right foot. He’s a little distant, but polite and fair enough to give you a chance.

Good thing he did to, as far as hindsight is concerned.

A funny individual and someone who hardly ever makes him want to flip a table? He’s glad to call you his friend once a foundation of trust is established.

If he thinks about it, he’d have to admit to himself there’s something very earnest and warm about the relationship.

You’re a good conversationalist, he respects your intelligence, and even silence around you is comfortable.

More than that, you’re reliable. Stress doesn’t come quite as easy whenever you’re around. And when it does, you understand him. You know just what to say and how to say it. And he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try to express the same kindness.

He starts thinking of you when you’re not around, especially when he’s alone. Thinking of anything from a fond or humorous memory, or simply the curve of your smile.

Oh… oh no.

Tackling his own growing feelings is a lengthy process. He wasn’t interested in seeking out a partner, but he catches feelings before he even realizes it.

And figuring out your feelings on the matter? Forget it.

He won’t say a thing unless you make a move yourself, too wary to even admit he could realistically do something himself. A fact the others are quite keen on reminding him of.

His insecurity won’t last forever, though.

Being around you is such a joy that it’s hard to get trapped in his own mind in the moment. That smile on your face, and sentences leaving your lips in the familiar tones of your voice…

You are his friend first and foremost; someone he feels he can really talk to and trust.

And that’s why you turn out to be everything he didn’t know he’d ever hope for.

Narancia Ghirga

-> Will They, Won’t They?

Giorno is going to start making Narancia pay for his therapy appointments. Abbacchio once made a sarcastic remark about wanting to start drinking again because of this. Mista has given Narnacia approximately twenty three lectures over the subject. Fugo is pulling his hair out.

And really, who can blame any of them?

Having to watch you and Narancia interact on a regular basis is a frustrating experience- to put it lightly.

That feeling only heightened by the fact that it’s something no one feels as though they can even comment directly on whenever you and Narancia are both around. Simply swallowing any words bubbling to the surface.

All this to say, Narancia falls for you quickly and he falls hard.

At first, there wasn't a single complaint to be had from anyone on the team. On the contrary, the others took the time to hype him up with wide smiles and pats on his back.

Narancia himself is excited to be experiencing something as genuinely sweet and grounded as a crush, and that elation was contagious.

But then a couple weeks pass... then a month... then another month... then another....

If the others were a smidge more invasive, they would've just pushed you two in front of one another yelling 'to just get on with it already' months ago.

Specifically Fugo, who actively lets it get to him in a way that Narancia merely huffs at. Sometimes offering a noncommittal response if he feels it’s necessary.

It doesn't matter how much his former tutor gets on his case, Narancia’s not budging. A light blush present on his face when he insists for the hundredth time that there's no way you could possibly feel the same.

Your own friends go through a very similar situation on the other end of things.

Similarly with someone like Abbacchio, the two of you act like a couple far before anything is set in stone. Unlike him, it's less causal and downright mind-boggling to the people around you.

Your legs lazily draped over his lap, going on drives that last for hours at a time, one barely ever seen without the other, and talking about each other constantly.

The latter became so frequent that Giorno once had to pull Narancia aside and tell him to stop mentioning you at Passione meetings.

Narancia has to bit his lip just to stop himself, but he manages. Much to the Don’s relief- never wanting to have that kind of conversation with a friend again.

Giorno cannot and won't try to control him outside of work, though, so it was merely half the battle.

Not that Narancia particularly minds the others' reactions to it very much.

Months into his affections and he's gotten used to the constant stream of teasing. Besides, he lies to himself figures that maybe they're just jealous. He wouldn’t blame them if that’s the case, finding you as special as any person can be.

Regardless of what anyone says, the sweetness is there.

An amusement to be had over how truly clueless the both of you are, despite interacting with flushed faces and stuttering words. It’s sweet, then annoying to the point where it circles around to being funny.

But you and Narancia retreat into your own little world where all of that melts away. He’s loyal, and since you hold his heart, it would be an understatement to say you’re just important to him.

Who will give in and admit the crush first? It's up in the air.

[fanaticsnail]

Better than to break tradition

Masterlist here

Word count: 3,700+

Beautiful Doflamingo cowboy art by @skullfacedlady. Absolutely gorgeous, as usual.

Synopsis: Rival ranches, the Donquixote family and your own, find neutral ground after a successful rodeo tournament. Coming to your aid, at the crowning of a cap on your head, you and Doflamingo know far better than to break tradition.

Themes: Doflamingo x f!reader, gendered terms used, cowboy au, bronc rider Doflamingo, rodeo clown Rosinante mentioned, regular sized Doflamingo in a semi-modern au, smut, 18+, MDNI, NSFW, P in V sex, unprotected, semi-public, creampie, plot, feelings, enemies to lovers.

Notes: Fic dedicated to @skullfacedlady, @queenmimi2817, and @feral-artistry for their ideas and thoughts about this cowboy on his horse. I am terrified of horses, but I did my research to get things as right as I could. Please forgive for any inaccuracies, I had a lot of fun writing this and this au is eating at me. First Rosinante drabbles, now this.

Sitting beside your father and his allied cattlemen, the amount of murmuring was so foggy your mind could barely pick up on any meaningful sentence uttered between them. Especially when your gaze was too focussed on avoiding the rubied lenses of the bronc rider readying his mount in the wood and iron cage atop a wild bronc.

Donquixote Doflamingo, ‘the Joker' of the arena, would always seek you out in the crowd when he entertained. All he ever did was show you how much he could reign in and control the beast beneath him with a firm grip and a mischievous grin. No matter how truly untamable the beast would be, bucking wildly to shake him off, they would find all their thrashing was met with absolute control and composure from the blonde man in the saddle.

The blonde-haired man would sit atop him, pelvis to the sky, chin tucked into his chest, and holding on for dear life while taming that beast for the money and reputation it garnered him. He was a rodeo king, and that air of cockiness would follow him everywhere.

While he often received praise falling from his entourage’s lips, all he ever wanted was that soft call of your own. Yet, there you sat, upturning your chin to face away from him while ignoring comments about him from your father’s troup.

The rivalry between you ran deep. Truth be told, neither of you truly knew where the little spat started. It could've been initiated when Doflamingo approached you with that cocky swagger in a bar, likely unknowing who you were and who your father was, offering to buy you a drink in return for a dance and your time while only being met with rejection. It also could've been when your father purchased a large quantity of cattle from the auction house that Doflamingo wanted to keep for himself at his family's ranch.

It could've been the snarky comment from his lips referring to you as a ‘buckle bunny', only good for chasing cowboys and taking cock. That comment resulted in an all out brawl between your family’s ranch workers, and the Donquixote troop. You held your own quite well, impressing a few of the crew with your battle-ready mentality, but it did lose you the place in line to be crowned ‘rodeo queen' - another slight against you made by the hands of Donquixote Doflamingo.

Either way, you refused to give the blonde the time of day. He was a bronc rider, and you were your father’s daughter.

Being from rival homesteads would keep you apart regardless. Your father would never permit you to speak to the likes of him, especially while your arm was laced within his in the stands sat beside his allies. Not after the amount of comments thrown his way about the blonde’s tendencies to take lovers and leave them immediately thereafter. Your father was protective, defensive, and ready to go to war for you - just as you would for him in a heartbeat.

If that war was due to the flashy smile of Donquixote Doflamingo thrown at you, he'd jump down into the stands and wage it there and then. It didn't help that the amount of comments from his allies suggesting a match be made between you and Doflamingo to solidify a new alliance was thrown in the ring more often than not.

At the sound of a gun aimed at the sky, the gates opened for another show flawlessly executed by ‘The Joker' in the ring. The dark horse bucked, kicked, spun in hasty circles while Doflamingo demonstrated his skill by holding on with a single hand while the other aimed at the sky clasping his white stitched, pink cat. Many a person would've been thrown extremely quickly from a stallion such as this, but Doflamingo’s skill and flare was simply too much for the beast.

The longer the display progressed, the more cheers, jeers, and gasps were heard from the ring surrounding the arena. You rolled your eyes, squeezing your arm laced within your father’s while you pouted to depict your level of impression.

At the sound of a loud gasp and your father tensing up to straighten his posture, you immediately turned your attention to the ring. Doflamingo was cast from the horse, and the beast was rearing to charge him where he stood. With quickened haste, Doflamingo’s entourage snapped immediately into action: his coach pulling him aside, and his younger brother, the rodeo clown commonly referred to as 'the heart of Doflamingo’ caused a large, clumsy, flailing distraction to usher the beast over towards him rather than his brother.

With 'the heart' jumping and distracting the horse’s charge, Doflamingo scurried out of the arena and climbed up on the side.

“He’s going to jump back on, isn’t he?” shocked voices called from the side. You unlaced your arm from your father, staring into the arena and rising to your feet. As Rosinante sprinted faster and faster while being chased by the stallion, Doflamingo made contact with his eyes on yours. He smirked up at you, shooting you a wink and placed his pink hat back atop his head while waiting for his brother to pass him.

As soon as Rosinante made it to the stand with the bronc behind him, Doflamingo immediately jumped back onto the horse with a large uproar from the stadium. You rolled your eyes at him, sitting back down beside your father, but now continuing to watch him with little interest cloaked behind your usual stoic demeanor.

“Are you sweet on him now, darlin’?” your father spoke from beside you, prompting you to immediately snap your head over towards him and shoot him an accusatory glare.

“Are you joking, Dad?” you spit in disgust, glancing back down to the display of Doflamingo now sitting atop a tamed beast and urging the beast to trot along the perimeter of the stand, ��I would rather chew sand than start courting with him.” As the bronc was calmed and steady under his hands and straddled beneath his hips. You couldn’t help the wandering of your mind at the motion of his hips against the great horse, but you refused to allow the blush to creep higher the longer your eyes lingered on the motions.

After the rodeo event was concluded and Doflamingo was successful in another show, several members of the district ranches approached you for a drink or a dance in the hall. While your father was off elsewhere discussing cattle and stallion purchase, you were a hot commodity. You enjoyed some attention from time to time, but this moment alone with a string of unwanted suitors was grossly hard to manage. None of them seemed to take ‘no’ for an answer, all competing for a moment of your time and vying for an opening to dive between your legs in a bid to grant them an audience with your father.

“This seat taken, sweetheart?” a particularly handsy gentleman asked. His talon-like grip trailed over your shoulders, grazing your skin and causing a physical shudder to rise on pebbled gooseflesh on your skin. You attempted to cast off the suitor, who began groping you and prodding you in a bid to get a rise from your temper or a giggle, you felt a soft warmth drape itself silently over your head.

No words were spoken as you witnessed the man begin to grumble and groan the silent protection placed upon your head. As you gazed upwards at the color, your own eyes rolled at the unwritten rule of the rodeo. Looking up at the white and pale pink hat with a stitched white brim, you scoffed and rode your thumb and four fingers to the tip of the broad suede. You would never dream of removing it, mainly to keep unwanted attention at ease, but also for the fact that the person who placed it on your head was a person you had begrudgingly come to admire this night from afar.

You would never dream of offending the knight found in the rescue of Donquixote Doflamingo. Not immediately after such a successful endeavour with the bronc, anyway.

“So many suitors, sweetheart,” he gently whispered in a gruff purr into your ear, taking a seat beside you at the bar and shooing the already dissipating crowd, “You forced my hand, really.” Turning towards the man beside you, you rolled your eyes before narrowing them towards the taller man beside you.

“Oh, and how did I force your hand?” you scoffed, turning in your barstool towards the tall blonde at your side, “Unless this is you staking your claim on a prize, rider, I see no reason for your cap crowning my head.” Doflamingo leaned forward, his eyes half-lidded beneath his pink showman's glasses. The flicker of danger was momentarily flashing in the bat of his blonde lashes, stealing the breath from your chest as he leaned in further.

“You do make such a pretty prize,” he growled lowly, his lips almost reaching your own in a sultry brush, “And now all I'm picturing is a part of this forsaken building to claim you in properly.” Before you had time to react, his arm was around your waist and hooking beneath your knees.

“You're joking, right?” You scoff at him with a humorless laugh, drawing your hand up to place it on the top of the suede brim, “One: you hate me and I hate you,” you speak firmly, beginning to lift the object from your head, “And, two: you and I both know that this is just superstitious-.”

“-You’ll keep my hat on your head if you know what's good for you, princess,” Doflamingo uttered firmly, peering at you over the brim of his glasses, “You and I know far better than to break tradition. Way I see it, you've got three choices as to what happens next.” He reached up and firmly pressed the hat back down atop your head, securing it in place while gazing dangerously into your eyes.

“We can sneak off to the bathroom where anyone can walk in to hear you screaming my name,” he chuckled, moving his hands from the hat to fall atop your shoulders, “We can fuck right here in front of your daddy and all his business partners in the next room,” Doflamingo whispered against your skin, with his lips almost close enough to taste, “Or we can go to the stables near the bronco you watched me tame earlier, showing the poor stallion how you train your cowboy to behave. Your choice, princess. Either way you choose, you're gonna be riding me somewhere tonight.”

In any other circumstances, you would have fought more against this chain of events. Firstly: your father should've taken you with him in the back rooms to conduct meetings with his allies and business partners, not leave you unattended with the unruly cowboys. Secondly: the sway and buck of Doflamingo’s hips on that horse had your mind wandering somewhere in the gutters each time he gazed at you while on the ride. Thirdly: who were you to break with tradition at a time like this?

Taking one quick swig to drain your drink, you turned your palm up and clapped him on the cheek with a single word falling from your lips.

“Stables.”

“Atta girl,” he shuddered in delight, lacing your arm within his and escorting you away from the bar like the perfect gentleman. He enjoyed gazing at those eyeing him off in envy, truly knowing how great the prize he had claimed truly was. Doflamingo had a lot of casual hook ups at events like this, but this was the first time he had ever claimed a partner with his hat on their head.

As his eyes met with that pink brim, he felt his heart anxiously patter in his chest, relishing on what he was to expect from the encounter to come. Sure, he had a small hang up on your history together, but there was never any hatred from him on his part. He loved to tease, and knowing he could get a rise and see some fire from a respected cattleman’s daughter brought him some joy in his daily life.

Slowly drawing you down the steps towards the stables was an easy task. The air grew thick and tense as your own expectations rose within you at what was to come. Your mind wandered back to the sway and rock of his hips above the bucking bronco, arousal pooling at the complete control as his hips gyrated and moved with every harsh kick.

At the doors to the stables, the Donquixote gentleman opened the door for you and gestured for you to go before him. You rolled your eyes and stepped inside the doors and allowed your gaze to adjust to the darkness lurking within. The scent of horse and hay lingered on in the stables, the barn empty aside from the horses resting after the matches in the arena.

The taller gentleman strolled in behind you, latching the door closed and turning to gaze at each of the empty stalls. As he parted his lips to ask you for your choice of room, he found your lips immediately clashing against his own in a fit of passion. His breath caught in surprise, immediately reciprocating the aggression you placed upon him with every kiss. Tongues and teeth bruised and consumed one another’s kiss as all clothes aside from Doflamingo’s hat upon your head shed your persons.

Pushing him into an empty stalls by using your body alone was an easy feat, considering his eagerness to relinquish control to you. He had no chance to utter a word as you laid him on his back and crawled through the hay to straddle his hips. Already feeling the slick arousal pool through your walls and gather at your entrance, you braced one hand on his stomach and another girt his girth to align with your cunt.

“Woah-? What-? Wait-!” died on his lips as you took him inside you with a single thrust downwards. Sitting comfortably while your walls contracted and adjusted to his size, you clamped your eyes shut while your belly expanded to comfortably sheath him within you.

“A little hasty, aren't you?” he groaned, his hands moving to your hips to hold you steady. “That bent on getting this over with, rider?” You opened your eyes and narrowed them down at him at the taunt of the earlier name you called him.

“Oh, please,” you leaned down with sarcasm dripping from your voice, still holding his cock deep within your core, “Don't act like you're not waiting for this little superstition to be complete so you can go partner up with someone else-.”

“-Don't,” he uttered sharply, moving his hand to caress your cheek and draw you in closer. He moved his unoccupied hand up to remove his glasses to gaze into your eyes without the pink filter. Ruby eyes met yours, sensitive to the light and shrouded beneath blonde eyelashes. “Don't you dare. You don't know how long I've wanted to see you riding me, cowgirl.”

“Cowgirl, now?” Your voice depicted your feigned shock as you tested a soft roll of your hips while your faces were inches apart. “What ever happened to ‘rider’, ‘princess’, or ‘buckle bunny’, huh? And what do you mean by that, Joker?” Doflamingo laughed, thrusting up to test your hold over his crotch, allowing another moan rose as he lost himself to the feeling.

“I don't mean half the shit I say,” he whispered alongside the echo of your name to follow, “And what I do say is to get a reaction from you, princess. Now take your damn time, I'm enjoying this.” He rocked you on his lap, enjoying the way he could easily maneuver your motions over his cock while your face was so close to his own.

You bore down on his lap, enjoying the feeling of his cock inside your cunt and warming it with your body. He hitched his breath as you tensed around him with a flutter of your walls. He allowed his mind to go blank as he revealed in the heat of your pussy claiming his raw cock inside of you.

“A-And, I mean from the first time I saw you, I wanted you,” he confessed, tilting his head up and gazing at you through half-hooded lashes. “Prissy attitude, hard working girl, easy to agitate and tease, and so fucking gorgeous. Now show me how you ride, cowgirl.”

Under the cover of darkness, the scent of hay surrounding your bare bodies, you sat comfortably to the hilt on Doflamingo’s cock. Straddling his hips, you demonstrated the skill of riding by grinding your cunt over his steely shaft. Rolling your hips to his rough bucking had your twin peaks steadily rising, the man beneath you not shying away from being verbal with his pleasure. As he groaned out, you simply panted as you bucked against his pelvis, hips clapping noisily with every, rough, down thrust.

Doflamingo refuted your silence, using everything in his power to expel explicit and pornographic moans from your lips. His hands flew to every piece of your flesh he could find purchase on. Playing with your clit, pinching your breasts, grabbing fistfuls of your ass to impale you on his cock, Doflamingo grew frustrated at your stubbornness to not cry out for him.

“C'mon, cowgirl. Wanna hear you cry for me,” he whimpered, bucking up each time you ground yourself down. “Don’t make me flip you- oh fuck,” he threw his head back as he felt your walls suck him in with every thrust down, “Just like that, baby. Good girl. J-Just need you to-,” he moved his thumb towards your pearl at the top of your pussy and focussed on slowly pressing it with coaxing pressure as you rode him once more. You let out a soft gasp at first, sucking in your breath through your teeth, before a needy mewl spilt from your lips that Doflamingo rewarded with harder contact to the top of your clit.

The Donquixote cowboy enjoyed every sound he coaxed from you from that point. Hearing your voice only heightened his desire to watch your body bounce atop him like the rider you had always been. Doflamingo was the wild stallion you controlled, his moans fleeing his lips like mewling and braying of the beasts he rode.

“That's it. Ride my cock all loud like that,” he encouraged, bucking wildly up into you. Planting his feet in the hay, the wet squelching of hips clapping together upped in frequency and rapidity, “Fuck, you're more wild than anything I've tamed. Fucking use me, girl.” Your abdomen tightened, the pinnacle of your rapid climax approaching like a rapid cantor to the finish line. With one extremely needy whine, Doflamingo moved his hands to grope your ass, planting you against him while he lost himself further in the feeling.

“F-Fuck-! I'm c-cumming. Y-You better be cumming with me, baby, ah-...” he whined up into you, feeling you match his pace and ride him through it to harmonize with your own body meeting your high, “Atta girl. Keep going. K-Keep taking me. Fuck yes, take it.”

Your hands groped at his shoulders, anchoring your body to his as you felt the floodgates shatter of your high. White flashed behind your vision as you screamed out his name, pleasure blooming in your chest with the ignition of lightning in your eyes. You released his left shoulder beneath your hand to hold his hat atop your head: ensuring it was planted firmly on your head while you cried out for his name.

Pussy gushing over his shaft in rhythmic contractions, you milked his cock of his own messy release as he painted your walls further in the viscous splashback of his cum. Pearlescent spurts fled from his body into yours at the roar of your name, branding your souls together as he flooded you with his seed. Both heaving and panting, you slumped onto his chest and shrouded both of your faces beneath the broad brim of his hat. He chuckled up into you, gently slapping your ass while kissing your cheek. His smile continued to hold as he gazed possessively up into you.

“You rode this cowboy well, sweetheart,” he praised you, bobbing his head up to flick at his cap on your head, “And you're gonna do it again, aren't you? You're still wearing my hat, means you're mine… right?” Slowly rising to gaze down at him, you notice the uncertainty behind his eyes. He wanted you to want it, yearned for you to want him again in any capacity. He needed you to need him again. Who were you to be to refuse him?

“It's still on my head, isn't it?” you quirk back at him, gently leaning down and brushing your nose with his, “Means I'm yours until I take it off.” He chuckled as he scrunched up his nose playfully at you.

“I'm gonna glue that fuckin' thing to your hair, princess,” he chuckled in jest, flicking the cap crowning you, “You take me so well, I don't know how I could ever want anything else.” His hand moved to cup your cheek, moving to press the tip of his nose against yours in a soft brush innocently of his flesh against yours.

The sounds of braying, snorting and whinnying beside you caused the two of you to resolve into a fit of giggles, laughing like the youth in the arena up to mischief in an empty stand. He rolled you gently off him, ensuring the hat remained on your head while making the hay comfortable to hold you atop of. He began whispering sweet nothings, grazing your skin in featherlight kisses where you left a gap open in conversation. Doflamingo was obsessed with you from the first time he saw you, and now that he had his hat crowning your head, that cowboy would never let you go

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @ane5e

[multifandom-exe]

Intimidation – S. Reid X Reader 

A/N: this is a rewrite of a fic from like 5 years ago, if you want to check out the original here to see how much has changed. Feel free to leave requests! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK IN COMMENTS OR ASKS PLS i need to know if I'm still writing like I'm 14 😭. Trying to rewrite one fic of each fandom so i get that reach. 

Request: hey could you make a spencer reid x reader where the reader is new to the BAU and she has more PHDs than reid. which makes him super intimidated and insecure (bc he also finds her very pretty) 

  Word Count: 2.1k 

Today was an emotional day. Quickly trying to blink back the tears that burned the back of your eyes, you stared up at the skyscraper. A lump rising in your throat, you reflected on all the hard work, all the time, all the energy, you put in just to be able to stand here right now. Years. Years of school, universities, exams, lack of a social life, and probably enough coffee to kill a small village. All to stand at the doors of the BAU, ready to take on your first day.  

You walked through the double doors, flashing your badge, and security directed the way for you. In a brief call with the Boss, Aaron Hotchner, he had given you a rundown of the people who will be on your team. You mentally revisited all the notes you took, trying to suppress the anxiety crawling up your throat. The elevator bell’s ‘ding!’ interrupted your thoughts. Quickly stepping out, you assessed your surroundings, briefly reveling the fact that you were actually here. You are actually, officially, FBI. You glanced through the double glass doors just in time, to catch a stare from someone you could only assume was Spencer Reid. Your eyes followed as he fiddled and dropped a stack of files on the ground. At his clumsiness, who you would assume would be morgan, followed his line of sight to see what all the fuss was about. His lips curled into a smirk as he said something inaudible to the other team members standing by.  

Looking particularly suspicious, just idling in the corridor, you made your way through the double glass doors. You put on your best smile as a distraction from the blush crawling up your neck. You excitedly walked over to the gathering of people; your happiness evident in every step.  

“Hi! I'm officially Supervisory Special Agent Dr. (Y/N) (L/N). Can you use two titles like that? I'm not sure, but regardless just call me (Y/N).” You beamed like a sunflower as you stuck your hand out to shake, who you assumed to be Emilys, hand. Morgan raised his eyebrow, looking you up and down. 

“Well, hey mama, what a nice Suprise.” He looked over at his team members to find their confused faces but raised his eyebrow, nonetheless. A pretty lady in his midst, Morgan would never complain, especially not when she carries a gun. 

“Team.” Everyone's head turned toward the stairs as Hotch ran down them. “I forgot to mention, new team member, (Y/N) meet, Morgan, Emily, JJ, Rossi, and Dr Reid.” He pointed at each one whilst introducing them.  

Your lips curled into a small smile as you beamed again. “Infamous Dr. Reid, Hotchner told me so much about you, apparently we are going to get along.”  

“Yes uhm.” He coughed, ready to list the facts he knew about you. “She can speak several languages, has 4 PHD’s, In Mathematics, Chemistry, Engineering and Psychology, and she has 4BA’s, Philosophy, Sociology, Linguistics and archeology if I remember correctly, all at the age of 26. Very similar to you.” He took a breath after rattling everything off and gave you a smile. 

“A new resident genius huh?” You and the team turned to the source of the voice, immediately noting that it was Penelope Garcia. You gave a small wave as she walked over. “Our boy genius finally has some girl genius competition.” She smiled as a very speechless Spencer opened his mouth, but closed it again, finding he had nothing to say. 

You turned a confusing look at the girl next to him and spoke. “I'm sure we will have lots to talk about, I'm definitely a talker.”  

You gave him a big smile and God he could've died and went to heaven right there. So many thoughts rattled around his head. He was used to being the smartest person in the room. The one constant in his life was his intelligence. And here you were, looking like a fucking sunflower, taking that constant away. 2 degrees. 2 degrees more than him. He genuinely couldn't wrap his head around it. Attraction and intimidation swirled in his mind like oil and water. The best he could do was gulp down his fear, paste a small smile on his face as you walked away to get situated. 

- 

The hours wore on, and the effect of your first day at work was taking its toll on you. Heading over to the coffee machine, you spotted spencer, making what seemed to be his fourth coffee of the day. “I suppose Hotch was right about you being a coffee addict.”  

A giggle erupted from your throat as his head shot up and his eyes widened at you, looking like a deer in the headlights. And once again, he found himself without anything to say. The anxiety of making a fool of himself in front of someone smarter than him was too much. He just grabbed his coffee cup and ducked back to his desk. Your eyes bore holes into the spot where he once stood, a small frown on your face. Had you seriously offended someone on your first day? Shaking your head, you returned to make some delicious coffee.  

Morgan quickly placed himself on the edge of Reids desk as he sat down. “Our babies will be smart and beautiful.” He mocked in a dreamy voice, breaking Spencer away from his thoughts. 

“What?” He gave Morgan a look of feigned innocence. 

“Cmon, Pretty Boy. Youve already got it bad for wonder girl over there.” At the mention of your name, they both look towards the coffee station where you stood, looking like you were right out of a movie. He stuttered out an attempt at denying his friends accusations, but Morgan simply laughed and clapped him on the back, leaving him a stuttering mess at the thought of you. 

“Briefing room!” Your ears perked up at the sounds of your boss’s voice ringing out across the room signaling you had a case. You turned your head and caught Spencers eye on the way, flashing him a timid smile. Finally, something to draw Spencer's thoughts away from you and your intrepid little mind. 

- 

Having been briefed they introduced you to the private jet. Of course it was met with gasps of astonishment from you, never having seen something so amazing in all your life. Everyone had settled in, and you sat down on the couch next to Spencer, taking in everyone on the plane. “Hey Genius Boy.” The common nickname caused Spencer to look up from his book. “Listen, I'm sorry if I offended you, I'm not trying to take your place as resident genius here, I think we could have some crazy in-depth conversations, if you would actually talk to me that is.” Your hands moved to match your voice, as a giggle left your throat to cover the awkwardness. He stared at you, looking like the human embodiment of his dreams, and decided today was not the day for his brain to fail him, he will not come across as stupid as he feels right now.  

“Thank you, I think we would too, you didn't offend me, I'm sorry, I just get a little anxious about things sometimes. And honestly, I've never met anyone with more degrees than I have.” The way he talked with his hands mirrored yours as he explained himself. You beamed at him after hearing you hadn't offended him, and Spencer swore he was melting. He studied your face and noticed your darker eye bags, and your second cup of coffee in hand. He assumed you'd had a sleepless night. He was all too familiar with insomnia, and first day nerves. “I can move if you want to lay down and take a nap.” A nice offer in his eyes, so he was surprised at your reaction. 

Your hands shot to cover your face as you squealed. “Do I really look that bad?” You spread your fingers to look at him whilst still shielding your face. His eyes shot open as he waved his hands a little frantically. 

“Oh god no! No! You look beautiful, really, I just assumed you were tired because of all the coffee.” He gently grasped your hands and removed them away from your face. A blush creeped up your neck at the compliment, and your hair stood on end at the sudden contact. His hands darted back as he felt his own cheeks darken. 

“I'm kidding Spence, I have trouble sleeping on a good day but thank you for caring anyway.” You smiled at him, taking in his features. God he really was beautiful too. Something about having such an intricate mind made a person all the more attractive. 

In hopes to make you feel better, Spencer did what he did best, and rambled, his hands intricately moving as he practically word vomited on you. “Yaknow, some sleep experts have said that sleeping with someone around, and or cuddling with them, actually improves sleep. Your brain releases endorphins and dopamine and all that good stuff when you cuddle with someone, and it is said that aids sleep. I personally don’t believe in sleep studies, or dream studies for that matter, but it could be something to think about in the future.” He stared at his lap as he finished his ramble. 

“Are you asking me to sleep with you, Dr Reid?” You quirked your eyebrows as endless giggles spilled out of your throat at his reaction. His eyes shot open again and he stuttered out some form of apology. He really needed to get his shit together if he ever wanted to have a normal conversation with you. “Okay, okay relax.” Your giggles faded away as you laid a hand on his arm.  

“I was just suggesting, you know you need to be refreshed for a case, if you wanted to sleep near me, if that's okay with you. I mean I could use a little bit more sleep as well.” He tried to distract your eyes from his searing cheeks as he motioned to his coffee cup.  

A smile broke out onto your face as you nodded softly, heat climbing up the back of your neck at the thought of the close proximity. You had heard Spencer was afraid of germs? Huh, maybe that wasn't the case. With 5 hours left till landing, Spencer retrieved a pillow from the couch opposite and laid it in the crook of his arm. Twiddling your fingers together, you shifted on the couch, moving to slip in between his body and his arm.  

You had never been so glad he couldn't see your face, but at this point, you were sure he could probably feel the heat radiating off your cheeks. You sighed into the comfort, with the thought of sleep weighing heavier and heavier on your eyelids. You took in the scent of his shirt, Pine, and old parchment. You gave it 5 minutes until you were whisked away into dreamland.  

Spencer, on the other hand, had never been so awake. He desperately hoped you weren't able to hear his heartbeat thrum against his chest as you got close. He slightly inched his head to lay on top of yours, the scent of your shampoo absolutely intoxicating him. If it were up to him, he would fly this plane to Antarctica just to be here a bit longer with you. 

Bonus 

The jet took a sharp turn and Morgan looked up from his cellphone. His eyes caught you and Spencer, practically wrapped around each other on the couch. The biggest grin broke out on his face as he laughed under his breath. As quietly as possible, he nudged Emily and JJ, pointing his finger in the direction of the couch. Emily rolled her eyes with an incredulous look, and JJ cooed quietly over how cute you two were. Emily whispered, not-so-subtlety, to Derek. “Take a picture before they wake up.” Quickly digging in her purse and throwing him her disposable camera.  

“I hate you all.” They all broke into silent laughter as Spencer grumbled.  

Since that day, that picture had remained pinned on Spencer's desk. 

-

Let me know if youd like to be on the taglist or anything, and please leave requests!

[brokenmenswhore]

Hiii first of all thank you for your fics, they're all so good you're incredible 🥹 second I just wanted to ask you if you were planning on going on with lessons, it was SO amazing! No rush just to know whether to expect it ahah if not so I would love to read some other Aegon xfem!reader smut you're too good at that 💚

thank youuuuu 🖤 i wasn’t planning on it personally but i live to serve and if there’s a demand for it i’m open to anything! here’s something kinda similar regardless since i’m such a whore for this man :)

new | aegon ii targaryen

pairing: aegon targaryen x fem!reader

summary: aegon asks the madam of his usual brothel if she has anyone “new”

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+), choking, corruption kink, language

a/n: this gif is making me feral why the fuck is he so fucking hot UGH

────── ☾ ──────

“Is everything to your liking, Your Grace?” asked the Madam, noticing the slight tinge of frustration on Aegon’s face. He walked past her and into his usual room, slumping down on one of the chairs. The Madam followed, concerned at the consequences to her establishment if The King was not satisfied.

“Is there any way I may be of assistance?” she continued, hoping he would alert her as to the issue he was having.

Aegon sighed. “Do you have anyone new?”

The question caught the Madam off guard. The King liked his specific few girls. He preferred the ones with the proper look and experience level that he required for satisfaction. When he was younger, he would fuck anything that moved, but since wearing the crown, he understood he needed to keep his urges at bay, and only let them loose with a select few. He had never asked for anything new.

“We do have one new girl, but you would not approve of her, Your Grace, she is quite inexperienced and will suit men who desire innocence much better than she will suit you.” The Madam was afraid that you would not be able to perform properly, and she did not want The King of the Seven Kingdoms to hold any resentment toward her.

“Does she look like my usuals?” Aegon asked, completely disregarding the Madam’s comments.

“She does, Your Grace, but I would advise-“

“You are not in good standing to advise your King of anything,” he cut the Madam off, glaring daggers her direction, “you would be wise not to question me.”

“Of course, my apologies, Your Grace,” the Madam panicked, “she does look like your usuals, but she is freshly new. She has not been had here yet anymore than maybe five nights. She does not know much.”

Aegon gave the Madam a wicked smile. “You may inform her that her King awaits.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” she responded, exiting the room and leaving the King alone in wait.

She found you in a back room, alone, attempting to adjust your body to fit properly in the small amount of clothing you were given.

“I have been requested to fetch you,” the Madam said, her voice startling you. You turned to her, finally happy with the way your breasts were sitting, as you responded, “How could anyone know to ask for me?”

“The King has requested someone new.”

Your eyes widened at the statement. “The King?” The Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms was the very last person you anticipated on serving. You had only had sex a handful of times, this being your first few nights working, and each time was with a man who specifically asked for someone inexperienced. You knew that the king liked his whores experienced and ready to serve, and oftentimes the Madam only sent him girls who worked their way up to serving someone of such high esteem. He was a finale, not a beginning.

Aegon II Targaryen was also known to be hot headed and rough with his whores, allowing his deepest carnal desires to overtake him. A few of the other girls greeted you on your first days, speaking to you of their tips, tricks, and experiences, and had spoken of the King, and his brother, Prince Aemond. The few girls who were tasked with serving King Aegon accredited him to sore throats or the inability to walk for hours, his depravity present in the bedroom. They quite enjoyed him that way.

“He has specifically requested you,” the Madam told you, “I attempted to advise him otherwise, but he insisted. I am in no position to undermine the King’s requests.”

You swallowed thickly and nodded your head. “Do I look up to your standards, Madam?” you asked.

She approached you, fixing a few stray hairs before pressing her palm to your cheek. “You are stunning. You will be fine. I hired you for a reason. Do not be nervous, darling.“ The Madam gave you a sweet smile before turning out of the room, allowing you to follow her to your meet with the King.

“Your Grace,” she called before swinging the curtain open, making sure he knew she was entering before doing so, “This is her.”

You followed the Madam into the room, shifting until you were standing in front of The King, who remained seated in the corner.

“Thank you,” he spoke, “you may leave us.”

The Madam hesitated, but did not dare question his authority. She bowed toward him and exited the room, leaving you alone and nearly naked, standing before the highest ranking man in Westeros.

You nervously fidgeted with your fingers behind your back as the King lifted a cup from the small table next to his chair, taking a sip and looking at you, not yet placing the cup back down.

He shifted in his seat, spreading his legs open and slumping in the chair a bit more. “Well?”

“Your Grace?” You were confused at what he was trying to get you to do.

“Don’t just stand there,” he told you.

“Your Grace, what would you like me to do?” you asked, afraid of making the wrong move and making him angry.

Aegon sighed. He took another sip from his cup before placing it down and standing up, untying his breeches and pushing them down his legs, freeing his already semi-hard cock. He sat back down and lifted his cup again. His eyes never left you as he brought the cup to his lips, continuing to tilt it further and further upwards until the red liquid spilled past his lips, a steady stream rushing down his throat, down his chest, and onto his stomach. “Oops,” he said, finally placing the empty cup down, “someone will need to clean that up.”

Though he made sure the spill was noticeably deliberate, you did not catch on. “I can happily retrieve you a towel, Your Grace.”

“You will do no such thing,” he spoke, “your tongue is as good as anything.”

You stared at him blankly, nervous to approach him. You knew you should, but your feet were unable to move.

“Come here and lick it up,” he demanded, “now.”

You forced yourself to move, kneeling in between his legs and adjusting yourself to your mouth was directly in front of his neck. “May I?” you asked.

“Lick. It. Up,” he repeated as an answer.

You slowly leaned in until the tip of your tongue connected to the stream of wine on his throat, flattening it against his adam’s apple as you licked up the spilled drink. Your tongue traced from his chest to the base of his neck, then from his belly button to his chest. Even when the wine was mostly cleaned, you licked a long stripe from his stomach all the way up to his throat, tracing the wine up the underside of his chin until you swiped your tongue over his bottom lip.

“May I kiss you, Your Grace?” you asked, desperate to feel his lips but scared of overstepping.

Instead of a verbal answer, Aegon grabbed a fistful of your hair in his hand, tugging your head back. He brought his lips to yours, kissing you with a desperate hunger and tasting the wine on your lips, before ripping your head away from his. “You missed a spot.”

You pulled your body away from him, looking down his body to where he pointed, just at the base of his cock.

You shifted your body so your head was level with his cock, kissing down his lower stomach until you were just above his now hardened cock. You looked up at him for consent, and he nodded slightly, his breathing starting to quicken in anticipation.

You were in your head before you could allow yourself to be as bold as you knew The King expected. “Your Grace, you must know that I have never done this before.”

Aegon tilted his head to the side. “Do not tell me you still have your maidenhood?”

“I do not,” you replied, “I mean I have never tasted a man in this way. I am unsure how I will perform.”

Aegon’s cock twitched at your confession. “I can be lenient with you.”

“I would very much appreciate it, Your Grace. I want you to enjoy yourself, though, and I can fetch a girl who may be better suited to your desires, if you’d like.”

Aegon sighed. “I do not want another girl.”

“Of course, Your Grace, I shall do my best, I just fear you may benefit from someone with more experience-“

“Shut up,” he cut you off, “I said I do not want another girl. Now get on with it.”

You took a deep breath, looking up at him before running your tongue from the underside of his cock to the tip, kissing the very top before sinking your mouth down onto his length. Aegon settled back in his chair, his muscles relaxing at the feeling of your lips wrapped around him.

You began to bob your head up and down slowly, adjusting to the feeling. You had seen this done before, but only in passing, walking past rooms full of cocks and mouths for the past few nights. You did not know much, but you attempted to showcase what you had seen, and how you assumed it was done.

You flattened your tongue against the underside of Aegon’s cock, a sigh leaving his lips as you continued to move up and down.

Aegon’s hand reached for your arm, pulling it upwards until his hand was in yours. He guided your hand to his balls, and you instinctively cupped them, squeezing gently and glancing up at his face to see his reaction. He was already looking down at you, his chest rapidly rising and falling as you continued to play with him, mouth still moving on his cock.

Both of his hands moved to hold your head onto him as he began to thrust into your mouth, lifting his hips ever so slightly at a painstakingly slow pace. Your lack of experience was driving him insane, his cock desperate for more. He grabbed your hair in his hand, and started to push and pull your head, forcing you to pick up the pace in which you sucked him. He began to thrust faster and faster into your mouth, chasing his high with every movement of his hips, before pulling your head off of his cock entirely.

You looked at him, confused as to why he stopped you. Were you not good enough? Did he want another girl?

“What fun would it be if I came now?” Aegon said, pulling you out of your own head, “I’m nowhere near done with you.”

“What else would you like from me, Your Grace?” you asked.

Your innocent tone was driving him crazy, his desire to corrupt and wreck you growing with each sound you made.

“Has anyone ever tasted you?” he asked.

“I know not what you ask, My King,” you answered.

“Do you know what it means to be tasted, pretty girl?” He asked, pulling you until you were standing in front of him as he leaned forward in his chair. He put his hands on your hips and placed a quick kiss to your stomach.

“No, Your Grace,” you spoke, barely making any noise, cheeks flustered as he held onto you, kissing along your lower stomach. His teeth pulled at your small clothes, looking up at you as they slid down your thighs and pooling at your ankles.

You were embarrassed, standing with your core exposed to The King of the Seven Kingdoms, his mouth mere inches away from it. He began to kiss lower and lower until he kissed on top of your folds, causing you to let out a small sigh.

“You need to promise me you won’t try to remain quiet,” he spoke, “I wish to hear you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

The King parted your folds with his tongue, flicking at your pearl, causing your legs to buckle involuntarily. Aegon’s hands moved to your ass, grabbing the flesh there to steady you, pushing you against his face. He licked and sucked at anything he could, excited to be the first to taste you, eager to hear the noises you made when pleasured.

The pleasure was unlike anything you had experienced from the few men you had been with. You let out a whine as your hands found their way to Aegon’s head, lightly pulling his hair as you threw your head back, grateful for the grip holding you in place.

Aegon ran one hand down to your thigh, lifting your leg until it was over his shoulder, giving him easier access to you. You continued to hold his head, steadying yourself to avoid completely falling over. Aegon moaned into your core at the feeling of your hands in his hair.

You were worried he was making a noise of disapproval, and you quickly removed your hands from his head. “My apologies, Your Grace, I should not touch you without your request,” you sighed, fighting with all your might to speak a coherent sentence as his tongue continued to swirl around your bud.

He briefly removed his mouth from your core to say, “don’t you fucking dare stop.”

His Grace immediately dipped his head back between your thighs, a loud moan leaving your lips at the sudden feeling, your hands returning to his hair at his request.

“Your Grace,” you moaned, your inner core beginning to tighten at the constant feeling of his mouth on you.

Aegon came up for air. “Just Aegon,” he said.

“Your Grace, I should not c-call you by your name,” you choked out, “i-it is not a-appropriate.”

Aegon sighed in frustration. He just wanted to make you come, and you kept overthinking the situation and interrupting his actions. “It is appropriate if I say it is appropriate. If I tell you to call me Aegon, you call me Aegon.”

You did not combat him, you simply allowed him to continue tasting you as your high approached. His tongue moved faster and faster, your whimpers turning into gasps and moans.

“Aegon!” you cried as your high washed over you, his tongue slowing as he pressed one final kiss to your lower stomach, his hands dropping from your ass, causing your legs to shake and buckle.

You started to fall, but he caught your waist, standing up and taking you with him. You jumped and wrapped your legs around his waist, his arms holding you up as he walked you two over to the bed.

He slammed your back against the sheets, hovering over you as you attempted to catch your breath.

He kissed you, the tenderness of the moment taking you by surprise. The moment remained intimate and sweet until his hand found its way to your throat, rings cold against your skin as he gave a slight squeeze.

You gasped at the feeling, which only made Aegon squeeze a little harder. His hand remained still as his lips found your breasts.

“Take this off,” he said of the final piece of clothing left on your body. You untied the strings centered on your chest, loosening the garment until it was untied completely, exposing you entirely to The King. He ripped the clothing out from under you and discarded it on the floor, eyes focused on your breasts.

He was staring at you for so long that you became worried he was disappointed.

“Is there something wrong, Your Grace?” you asked, attempting to recenter his attention.

Aegon’s eyes finally moved from your breasts, meeting your eyes. “Nothing is wrong,” was all he said before averting his gaze back to your chest again.

“Would you prefer me to remain covered?” You felt heavy under his gaze, as if he was inspecting you, finding every little fault. You began to pull the sheets up to drape over yourself, but Aegon gripped your wrist, causing you to drop the sheets.

“Do not even attempt to cover yourself again, understood? I’ve already gone much too long without a sight this pretty.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” you replied.

Aegon took one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking harshly, as if he thought the more he sucked, the higher the likelihood that something would leak out. His tongue swirled around your nipple, his hand finally leaving your throat to squeeze the unattended breast.

The curtain to the room swung open, the Madam standing at the entrance. Aegon, with no urgency whatsoever, detached himself from your breast, glaring at the woman.

“Forgive me, My King, I simply wanted to make sure she remains to your liking?” the Madam checked in, nervous of your performance and ability to satisfy her most coveted patron.

“Have I ever deemed it proper to interrupt me?” Aegon spat, angry at the intrusion, “answer me.”

“You have not, Your Grace, I was simply-“

“You were simply interrupting,” Aegon started, shifting his body so that you were trapped between his legs, “and I did not give you authority to ever do such a thing. Get out.”

“My apologies, Your Grace, it will not h-“

“Get. Out.”

The Madam bowed and left without another word, Aegon letting out a frustrated sigh as the curtains fell back into one another, leaving you alone with him once again.

“Does she make a habit of checking in on you?” Aegon asked you.

“She never has, but I am newer, and I believe she means well.”

“Does she not think you capable of pleasing a man?”

“To speak candidly, she does not think me capable of pleasing you, Your Grace,” you told him honestly.

“You seem to be doing a fine job,” Aegon said, dipping his head to kiss your neck, a hand finding its way back to your breasts, a finger playing with your nipple between squeezes.

“T-thank you, Aegon,” you replied.

Aegon groaned at your words. Even though you were thanking him for his compliment, it sounded so pretty, as if you were thanking him for his touch. He needed more, and you noticed.

He lined his cock up at your entrance, watching your face as he slowly pushed into you, your mouth dropping open and your head tilting back at his size. You gasped when he bottomed out inside of you, his cock large enough to hit further back than you anticipated.

He studied your face, watching your brow crease as he pulled only a little out of you before slamming it back in, causing your body to jolt slightly with the movement. He began to slowly rock into you, a small whine leaving your lips with each thrust.

You remembered his earlier groan, and praised him. “Thank you,” you sighed out as he slowly fucked into you, the feeling igniting your entire body.

“Thank you for what?” Aegon asked, eager to hear you speak more.

He picked up the pace, fucking into you faster and faster, your body rocking with each thrust of his hips. “T-thank you, Aegon, you feel s-so g-good,” you whined.

“Yeah? You like the way your king fucks you, pretty girl?”

“Y-yes,” you praised, “thank you, A-Aegon.”

Your words were making him feral, rendering him completely unable to control himself. He began to fuck you at a ruthless pace, one hand finding its way to your breasts, squeezing and flicking your nipple to add to your pleasure.

Your back arched in response, whines and whimpers falling from your lips with no chance of stopping.

“I want you to scream so loud that there is no question of whether or not I am pleased by you,” Aegon moaned.

“Y-yes, Aegon,” you whimpered, the feeling of his hips hitting yours with every hard thrust driving you closer and closer to the edge again.

He folded his body a bit, leaning down to kiss your breasts again, sucking as he continued to fuck you. Your hands found his head, playing with his hair as he bit down on your breast.

You squeaked a moan, the sudden pain catching you off guard. It only made Aegon like you more, each and every new noise pulling him further and further in. He couldn’t get enough. You were intoxicating him; he loved knowing that barely anyone had had you, and that no one would ever compare to him when more did. He was growing too used to his usual whores, and you excited something within him as you pulled his hair, and feeling being exactly what he wanted from you.

He bit at the pure flesh of your breast, licking and sucking at the spot immediately after to care for the slight mark. “Aegon, fuck,” you moaned.

His pace began to feel sloppy, his thrusts becoming more and more erratic as he chased his high.

“I need you to come,” he said.

“I- I-“ your high was approaching and Aegon knew it. He could feel you squeezing his cock, and he was losing self control, all too close to releasing inside of you. He needed you to come again before he could allow himself to, but he was losing it.

“Come for me,” he begged, “do what your king says.”

The demanding nature of the request combined with the neediness of his begging only added to your arousal, your high hitting you hard as you squeezed Aegon’s cock for dear life. “Aegon!” you screamed, sure everyone could hear.

“Good girl,” Aegon cooed at your volume.

The combination of the feeling of you coming and the sight of your breasts bouncing with each thrust drove Aegon close to his own high, grateful that you came so he could follow suit.

He tried to stop it, he tried to convince himself it wasn’t right, but he could not help himself- he remained inside of you as he came, a moan leaving his lips as his last few thrusts shot his seed deep within you, the thought of how pretty your breasts would be if they were full of milk completely clouding his mind in the moment.

He pulled out of you as he calmed down, falling down onto your body and positioning his head on your chest.

He remained laying on you for several minutes, enjoying the feeling of your breasts beneath his head, the makeshift pillows soothing him.

“Your Grace, is there anything else you require of me? Is there anything else I can do that will please you?” you asked after a while, unsure of how long he wanted to remain in your presence.

“Stay,” he said, “resting on you pleases me.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” you responded, running your fingers through his hair, allowing him to take a deep breath as he moved a hand to your breast, squeezing and playing with the flesh as he calmed down.

You remained still, allowing him this comfort as you settled in to the bed.

“You may tell your Madam that you satisfied me greatly,” he spoke after a few minutes, pushing himself up and standing as he found his clothing.

“Yes, Your Grace,” you responded.

Aegon redressed himself, stopping in front of you before exiting the room. “And you can tell her I expect to see you again.”

[thepigeonhasapen]

I was wondering if you could do the Olympian Gods with a reader whose asexual? Like, what would their reactions be, would they mind, stuff like that d:

Asexual Reader, Olympian Edition

(Doing these asks out of order but shhhhhhh. Also strong warning for acephobia because Zeus in an ass)

🩷Aphrodite🩷

Very chill about it. She's the goddess of love and that includes ALL kinds of love. Self-love is one of her favorites. The fact that you know and accept who you are and that you're willing to let her in on it? Well, Aphrodite might just adore you even more than she already did.

"You’re...? Well of course I don't mind, dearest! In fact, I think that's positively wonderful!"

Regardless of whether or not you're interested, Aphrodite still can't refrain from making comments about your physical appearance. She'll try and curtail some of them if you find them uncomfortable, but she loves lavishing praise upon you and talking you up to her friends.

Partially jealous to be perfectly honest. She can't help but wonder if you have a more pure understanding of beauty because you're not looking at it though the rose-tinted lens of horny. Aphrodite is deeply fascinated by asexuality and even if she doesn't quite understand it, she tries her best.

⚔️Ares⚔️

Doesn't mind. Honestly, it doesn't even really impact him that much. Just neatly writes sex out of the equation and carries on.

"You seem nervous, my dear. You... oh? Is that all? No need to distress yourself so much over such things. I love you as you are and knowing this will not change that."

May ask you a few questions at the beginning but mostly leaves the subject alone after that.

If anyone's giving you shit, all it takes is a dirty look from Ares to shut them up. What can I say the man has a way with not using his words.

🏹Artemis🏹

You too?? Artemis tries to play it off cool but she's low-key thrilled actually. Internally screaming because thank the Fates, she can get as close to you as she wants and she doesn't have to worry about things getting Weird™️

"You’re ace? That's... cool. Sorry, that came off as really insincere. It's just... me too, you know? I got a little surprised is all. And um, we've been hanging out for a while and I just wanted to say, you know, now that we're talking about this and I know you're not gonna take this the wrong way, I think you're really neat. I love hanging out with you. ...Don't go spreading that around though, okay?"

Artemis is sex-repulsed. If you are too, she drags you to family events so she can make faces at you whenever her family starts talking about their sexual conquests. If you're not, she's deeply fascinated and will probably ask you WHY on earth you would want to do that.

Despite the fact that Artemis doesn't want to have sex, I feel like she'd still enjoy certain kinks. Primal play, petplay, and leather are things I feel she'd enjoy partaking in. (Source: I am ace and very kinky lmao)

🦉Athena🦉

What a good match, Athena is asexual too! She probably blanks your confession to be honest because she sometimes forgets that people actually have sex frequently and on purpose.

"Asexual? Yes, alright. And how fared your journey up to Olympus by the way? I hope Hermes treated you well."

Sex-neutral. Will occasionally give sex a go if her partner happens to bring it up but will mostly just forget it's existence as a thing entirely.

Athena is actually quite haughty about her asexuality. She is definitely looking down on anyone who is swayed from the path of wisdom by someone else's sex appeal. Loves that you can understand her point of view on the subject.

❄️Demeter❄️

As Demeter has aged her sex drive has shrunk to like nil so really nothing about your relationship is much different.

"Asexual...? Ah, like young Artemis, yes? Fascinating. I've never been able to pin her down long enough to converse upon the subject. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

Demeter tends to be a touch more overprotective than she needs to be. If anyone even so much as gives a hint of giving you shit for it, Demeter is sending them an absolute withering glare that has the potential to kill even the most vibrant flower. She follows it up with some bitterly cold words if necessary but it rarely comes to that.

She's honestly quite relieved about it really. She was never really that horny of a person and is happy to find someone who can relate to that. I personally think Demeter is some kind of acespec but that might also be my asexual ass projecting my aceness onto every character I get my grubby little hands on lol

🍇Dionysus🍇

Chill about it. He's chill about literally everything, what do you expect? Dionysus is commonly associated with trans people and I like to believe that queer people in general just flock to him because he's just so open and accepting.

"Ace, yeah? Congrats, man, thanks for telling me. Just let me know if I ever step on any toes, 'kay?"

Not gonna lie, he secretly corners Artemis and Athena to bother them on the subject just in case he's got it wrong. He didn’t as it turns out, but he's glad he checked in anyway because it was an enlightening conversation. With Athena anyway. Artemis runs off at the first available opportunity.

Happy to go whatever speed you want, if you want to go any speed at all. He may still get a little handsy sometimes but he doesn't mean anything by it, he just really likes holding you like a teddy bear. Honestly, I think he'd get a real kick out of somebody aegosexual and think it was such a super fun party trick that you can say such horny things and not be interested at all. Probably mildly pesters you to engage with smutty things because he finds your unamused expressions absolutely fascinating.

🪽Hermes🪽

Bursts out laughing when you tell him. It's not for the reason you think and he does feel really bad about it when he sees your face.

"Haha, of all the...! Haha– oh, hey, hey, I'm sorry, it's not that. I totally don't mind you being ace or anything, far from it, it's just that I seem to have an accidental habit for attracting your type and I seem to be collecting you."

Besides you, the person Hermes spends the most time with is Charon... who is also asexual. Hermes, the uberhorny hypersexual fuckbunny who would literally die for a quickie every five minutes find this hilarious. Opposites attract I guess? Hermes has a good giggle about it everytime he thinks about it.

Doesn't mind if you don't want to have sex. If you do, great! But if you don't, it's not a big deal.

🔱Poseidon🔱

Poseidon is... confused. It'll work out better if you're sex-repulsed and straight up don't want to have sex ever, otherwise poor Poseidon will absolutely struggle. He doesn't understand the difference between sexual attraction and aesthetic attraction and is just genuinely so out of his depth. You like the way he looks... but you don't want to have sex with him??

"What's that? Asexual? I, uh... okay, just between the two of us, you're gonna have to explain that one to me, babe."

He talks to Dionysus. Even after that he still doesn't get it. Poseidon tries his best to be supportive but has like no idea how. Probably shooes away people who try to even mention sex in your vicinity. It's gonna take awhile before he understands how this works. Confused but he's got the spirit kinda?

May initially try to convince you that you just haven't had good sex yet. Sit him down, explain this all to him, and he'll probably get it. Okay, let's be honest, he still doesn't get it but he respects your choice and generally leaves the subject alone. His libido is quite high though so he will frequently sleep around just to scratch that itch.

⚡️Zeus⚡️

We were doing good until we got to you, huh Zeus? Zeus just quite firmly doesn't believe in asexuality. He definitely thinks you're just confused or that you haven't had sex right yet or that you'll change your mind at some point.

"Asexual? Oh dear, have you been talking to that daughter of mine, Artemis? She's always on about something or other, if she chooses to talk to us at all."

Zeus won't force you to have sex but he will make subtle (he thinks he's being subtle anyway) comments about how you're a tease or a prude. If you're interested in having sex, Zeus doesn't understand the definition and just thinks you don't find him attractive. His feelings are now hurt. He will be throwing a violent totally-not-a-tantrum now.

Will eventually, probably shut up about it. Look, he's never gonna understand it so shutting up about it is the best you're gonna get from him. This idiot thinks with his penis, okay? Athena stole all the intelligence from him at birth. Just doesn't get it, very confused, cannot even comprehend the idea of not wanting to bang everything in sight.