#i am truly in a head in hands situation 😭😭

[mirkwood]

I love your feanormelkor posts. Never stop🖤

Ohhhh it'd be impossible to stop 😭😭🖤

[syneilesis]

[fic] if only for a moment

if only for a moment

Love and Deepspace | Rafayel (Qi Yu) x Main-Character!Reader | T | 3.6k words | ao3 link (with correct formatting)

Rafayel waits. And waits. And waits.

A/N: Another LaD fic!! This time it's Rafayel. Several elements of this fic are inspired by and loosely based on his story anecdotes and bond story, plus that Deep Sea card line backdrop. So more spoilers in this one, I'm afraid. I think you need to be aware of them in order to follow the flow of the fic. But if not, here's what you need to know: basically Rafayel accepts a visiting professorship at the University of Linkon to reunite with the MC/you. And the prose poetry interspersed are loosely situated in the Deep Sea card lineup setting (you can search in YouTube for the scenes. This one is a brief glimpse of the scene). That princess/knight(??) dynamic is yum yum.

If possible, please read the version on AO3. I formatted the prose poems there as if they're really prose poetry, so I'd appreciate it if you check that out. (Though there isn't too much difference between the formatting here and there, I did make the effort of coding a little 🥺)

Anyhoo, hope you enjoy, and I am sO STOKED FOR THE OFFICIAL RELEASE. rip my wallet 💸😭

JUST LOOK AT THIS MAN AND BELIEVE

There’s a type of berry in a distant land that produces a rare shade of ink that matches the color of your eyes. It takes a hundred of them to create the right hue and volume for the art that he wants to make. It comes to him in a dream: endless desert, then fireworks of verdant sparks that coalesce into stem, leaf, and, finally, fruit. Rafayel remembers that land, so much different from the iridescent blue of ocean underwater, and the acrid gold of the barren desert. His mouth filled with the succulent sweetness of the dream, the lingering sandpaper roughness of the berries on his fingers. He already knows the name of the artwork even before he’s begun—Waiting, Missing. The ache in his bones gaining form, an intangible thing taking flesh.

+

Under the ocean surface, time is muted, a deafening thickness that surrounds you with its ambiguity. On land, however, it is linear, and fast, and in a matter of blinks, Rafayel’s visiting professorship nearly wraps up.

He’s only glimpsed you once or twice. Thrice at most. The university is big, but not big enough to warrant a dearth of fateful encounters. The first time he saw you it was at a coffee shop: walking along with your friends outside, your voice mellifluous and festive wafting through the trellis of the café entrance. You were talking about him—well, about Lemuria to be specific, but these days any talk of Lemuria inevitably draws in his name.

He’s committed your schedule to memory, and yet it just seems impossible to capture a moment with you. Even just a brush of shoulders, or of sleeves—an asymptote of contact. Just navigating around your orbit, but never truly meeting.

What would it be like—finally talking to you? You in front of him, face to face? Rafayel imagines the ache of waiting fading into the background until it’s completely gone. He yearns for that feeling, the release of it. A conclusion—or maybe even a beginning.

+

i. take my hand, he told you under the glow of the lustrous moon, the only source of light that contoured the secretive valleys of his face. i want to show your highness something. there was a country, he said, beyond the undulating monochrome of the desert, blanketed by lush trees and shrubberies and flowers that buildings were made in betwixt and around them—a nation of trailing and winding architecture, a marriage of the natural and the manmade. you wanted to ask why he’d planned on taking you there, and the only answer you got was a curt turn of his head and the profile of a masked man layered by shadows and distance. it would have been nice, you thought, if the moon poured light upon his hooded gaze.

+

Eventually he begins to frequent the café. Twice a week at first—he doesn’t want to come off strong right away, of course—and then making his way up until he’s hanging out there more than his own studio. He schedules his visits around your classes, always during the ones when the probability of you dropping by the café is high and he can ‘coincidentally’ be around the same area. It’s gotten to a point that Thomas calls him out on it, and nags at him to focus more on his painting. The next exhibit is immediately after his visiting professorship after all.

“From where I’m standing,” Thomas says, “you’re not painting at all.”

Rafayel ignores him.

Five minutes later, he says, “Not painting is part of the painting process.”

Thomas rolls his eyes, but he leaves him to it.

At the café, Rafayel attracts curious looks. A few attempt to approach him, but he pretends not to see them. They linger around the periphery, like moths to flame.

And then something happens: the entrance door chimes, and you swan into the coffee shop, earphones and denim overall skirt, the kind of rosy-cheeked image Rafayel finds on teen magazines, wide-eyed and earnest. You fall in line and order when it’s your turn, and your eyes sweep across the packed café searching for a vacant seat until they finally land on him.

Rafayel’s heart stumbles.

Up close, the baby fat on your cheeks still gives you the appearance of being younger than you actually look. You turn a polite smile his way, and his heart stutters again—but this time it is taken as a warning.

“Hi,” you say, tentative. Any hint of recognition absent. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

+

ii. you're counting the steps of your inevitable parting. you're at the edge of the desert, far away from your home and its familiar scents, oriented towards a direction that promised a future sad memory, the gentle warmth of his hand, the downward denial of his gaze. this longing that grew out of your bones, aching during cold, aching during heat, aching when he looked at you with such tenderness he had to hide it through the sharp tug of your joined hands, the long strides that opened up a lonely distance. intimacy was dangerous, knowing was dangerous, the bowels of his heart like a solitary flower on a high peak. what would you do to such loneliness?

+

Memory isn't always an infallible thing. The human brain cannot hang on to every moment of your life, though Rafayel wishes it were so. But still—to think that you would forget him, and it hasn’t even been a century. You were like a phantom thief stealing his heart in the night—no recourse, no resolution.

To wait is to be in agony, the burn of yearning locked within the heart. Rafayel has been waiting for a long time, and the only memory scorched in his heart is fire, the blaze and its blinding, all-consuming want.

What would you do to such want?

+

You have a blurry childhood, Rafayel discovers. After the first Wanderer descended on Earth, the incident strummed your memories like a stringed instrument that tired of the same chord, over and over. It had bothered you at first—not being in control of your own memories—but eventually you had learned to live with it.

“Grandma and Caleb—my childhood friend—helped me through the process,” you tell him, stirring your iced mocha with its straw. “I owe them a lot.”

Eyes cast down, but still the melancholy shadows remain in your expression. Rafayel folds his arms on the table, and leans closer.

Around them only a few people occupy the coffee shop at this time. How fortunate for Rafayel to catch you during your break while every other student is trapped in class lectures.

“There’s no use in dwelling upon what's already happened. Even sharks have to give up when their prey escapes. When you remember, it will be all the more joyous, no?”

The smile you give him is crooked, disbelieving.

“If I remember.”

“You’ll remember.” Because there’s no other choice, for you and for him. Rafayel cannot bear being shelved in the history of your smile and happiness. Waiting can only be endurable if there’s an endpoint.

+

In his studio, Rafayel begins his next painting.

+

iii. the berries tasted sweet, with an edge of sourness that clung to the bottom of the tongue. it had the exact shade of your eyes, a detail that rafayel brought up the moment he plucked it from the shrub. raising it to align with your eyes, comparing them with his artist's meticulous gaze. maybe when this is all over, i'll go back here again to extract ink from these berries, and paint a portrait of your highness using these to color your eyes. he never showed you any of his paintings, merely mentioned them in passing, and you constructed a dream of him from the throwaway words that left his covered lips. i'm not used to sitting for so long, you reminded him, and he glanced at you, then at the berry between his fingers. my memory is enough, then handed you the fruit.

+

In the few weeks of meeting with you Rafayel forgets that his visiting professorship is ending soon and he has to give out his last lecture. Thomas had asked him what his topic would be. At that point Rafayel had no answer. But now he has.

“I’ve been hearing you talk about Lemuria every now and then with your friends.” He props his cheek on his hand, tilting his head slightly and giving you a charming smile. “Interested?”

You blink. “How did you know?”

“Oh, I’ve seen you a couple of times here, and I happened to hear your friends chat about my lecture. Your points were almost accurate, I’m in awe.”

“The visiting professor—that’s you?!”

Rafayel pauses, the slosh of his drink nearly spilling on his frozen hand.

“You didn’t know?”

Sheepish, you say, “Honestly, I didn’t make the connection. Is that why plenty of people have been glaring at me as of late?”

He releases a frustrated sigh, eyes rolling heavenward.

“In any case, my final lecture is on Friday next week. It’s titled “Memory and Meaning in Lemurian Art”. Why don’t you drop by and listen, and you can tell me what you think afterwards.”

You retrieve your bullet journal to check your schedule. It’s colorful, filled with stickers and doodles that Rafayel finds endearing. Then the excited moue on your face drops into a frown, and Rafayel can foresee the next words that will come out of your downturned lips.

“I’m sorry,” you say guiltily, “but I have a major test that day, and I need to get a high score in order to pass the course.”

Rafayel exhales, long and weary, but ultimately shrugs off the apology. “What a shame, but I forgive you. Just don’t fail your exam or else my magnanimity would be all for nothing.”

+

He calls Thomas that night.

“I’ll disappear for a while once the professorship is over.”

“Hey, wait, what do you me—”

“You’ll be happy to know that this is for my next painting.”

A beat. “Okay … but for how long?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?”

Then he hangs up.

+

He’s trying, he really does. The lecture ends to a resounding applause, and it’s mechanical how he answers the questions posed by the audience. But he’s trying, he’s trying. There’s no specter of you in the sea of faces in the auditorium. You’re at the other end of the university compound, sweating your way through your exam. He genuinely hopes you’d pass, for your sake.

Thomas had booked his flight to another country, where he’ll traverse to a land that he’d visited many times in his dreams and had woken up with a filmy, sweet-sour tang at the roof of his mouth. He’ll leave the morning after the closing dinner party the faculty has prepared for him. There isn’t time to pack much, and no time to tell you goodbye.

Rafayel guesses that it’s only fair: how would you feel waiting for him at that café, the chair across you empty, only the sunlight pooling from the window as your companion?

+

iv. parting, somebody once said, is such a sweet sorrow. much like those berries in that ever-green nation, a lingering sourness remained underneath, the sting of it reminding you every now and then. he was already mourned for even before he left. tell me what it's like—the ocean. he was elusive, untouchable in his grief. you'd heard through whispers, the story of his migration, the drowning before the drying, the unwanted journey. grief brought him to you and grief would steal him away from you, you knew, down to the cells of your body and the hopelessness in your blood. —and yet. and yet you wanted to have a taste of it, anyway.

+

The ever-green land is no longer green, or lush, or alive. Time corroded it into memory, sepia-faded, wizened. Past. The berries he’s searching for don’t grow here anymore. Everything here is empty, barren, helplessly so.

Rafayel hasn’t accounted for such development, but he should have known. Disappointment stings at his chest, and bitterly he turns away and stays at the next town over. At a family-run restaurant situated near the outskirts, he looks over the wide windows, across the highway road, beyond the jagged horizon. The painting won’t be finished, then. Another tragedy, pressed flat next to the forgetting, to the waiting, and his home.

The chef personally serves him his order and, after a shuffle of hesitation, brings up a question.

“Young man, you came from the direction of the old country, yeah?”

Rafayel meets his inquisitive gaze. “Yes, why?”

“It’s been a while since we had someone visiting that place. There’s nothing in there anymore, it’s been that way for years. Why did you go there?”

Rafayel is reluctant to say, but at the guileless set of the older man’s face, he concedes.

“I was looking for berries. The ones native there. They produce a shade that I need for my painting.”

At the mention of the fruit, the chef’s expression lights up. “Oh! I see, I see. You’re in luck, son. We grow them here at the farm. Plenty of those for everyone. How about I give you some? It’s rare meeting someone who still remembers the old country, it’s almost fate. How many did you say you need?”

Fate. Just like the time of your first meeting, as if the universe had gifted you to him. Just like the time of your parting, of your forgetting, of his waiting. Fate as a connection from you to him, red and burning brightly.

He doesn’t want to seem eager, but he knows he’s failed from the way the chef toothily grins at him.

“A hundred or so.”

The chef falters at that, jerking slightly back. But he accepts it with a nod, an avuncular smile making its way across his kind, powdery features.

“That sure is a huge number, but I think we can work something out.”

+

His painting takes a month to complete, inclusive of the time spent making the ink from the acquired berries. Sometimes, Thomas watches him paint, quiet in the background. His stays usually don’t last—a quick flash that Rafayel nearly misses, or deliberately ignores. But during the final stages of the painting process, Thomas hands him the exhibit details.

“I’m just thankful you’re on time for this one.” He sighs, relieved, then leaves.

Alone, Rafayel creates. Brushstroke after careful brushstroke, each varying by pressure and angle. He lets each layer of paint dry before moving onto the next. The berry ink—the color of your eyes—the solely different element of this painting. Center, central. The focal point. The beating heart. The years and years of waiting and longing. The form and the flesh. Alive.

This, too, is an endpoint.

+

v. can i see your face, just this once? your hands grazed his mask like a ghost wanting to touch. rafayel stayed still beneath your desirous fingers, observing, waiting, his own fingers twitching towards his dagger. even in the parting he could not let go of this distance. hopeless, hopeless. your highness would get nothing out of seeing my face. he's wrong, his eyes never left your face, and he's wrong. he didn't stop you from your grasping of his mask, and him—finally—bare and beautiful yet a little sad. you're wrong, you said, tracing his slightly parted lips with a trembling finger, you're wrong. it is everything to me.

+

The gallery is packed. No surprise there. It’s almost boring, in a way. Waiting, Missing hangs at the farthest hall in the floor, special and intimate as it should be. Thomas knows him well; otherwise, Rafayel would have whined at him to hell and back just so he could be granted this demand that is in reality a mandate.

He’s hiding from the throngs of journalists and art critics alike and sequesters himself in a corner that has a clear view of the painting. Loosening his collar and tie, Rafayel breathes and closes his eyes, leans tiredly against the wall. A few more minutes, and he’ll slink out of the building, reputation be damned.

He melts into the shadows whenever somebody passes by. He has neither time nor energy interacting with people today. Watching them through half-mast eyes, Rafayel stays in his secret place and studies with weightless detachment the people looking at the painting.

He’s made a bet with himself about the opinions of his followers and admirers. Who thinks what and why. It makes for great entertainment. The last time, a fresh-faced critic praised Rafayel’s technique as “innovative and a soul-rending reflection of the prodigy’s character.” He had laughed and laughed for hours until he couldn’t breathe any longer.

Another walks by, and before Rafayel retreats further into the corner, he glimpses a familiar gait and a familiar face.

His heartbeat races. He’s never told you that he’s holding an exhibit today. After the professorship Rafayel failed to maintain communication with you, convincing himself that it’s for the best that he protect you from afar that day onwards. It didn’t help that he had to leave as well. At the same time, you never made an effort of reaching out, and Rafayel thought that it was back to square one again, that waiting, that yearning.

But here you are right now, elegantly dressed, like someone gliding out of a dream. Rafayel swallows, his hands shake. You do not have someone else with you, and your eyes are brightly focused on Waiting, Missing, and for a fleeting moment your expression flickers into longing, strange and old and battered and sad, that it compels Rafayel to take a step forward—to you.

“Hey.”

The curious look vanishes; left no traces in your delighted face, as if it wasn’t there in the first place. “Rafayel!” you exclaim. “Long time no see! Congratulations on the exhibit; these are all beautiful.”

Outwardly he smirks, belying the torrential emotions he’s currently going through. He cants his head a little, works his charm on you. “Impressed? No need to hold back your compliments.”

Laughter, prismatic and crystalline. “Yes, yes. Especially this one—Waiting, Missing. What an interesting title. At the center, what paint did you use?”

Ah. Rafayel inhales before answering. “It’s actually ink. I had to make it from a hundred berries. It was a tedious process, but I wouldn’t use anything else. It has to be this, you see.”

“Whoa, no wonder you’d been radio silent all this time. You were creating this masterpiece.”

He hums, afraid that, if he speaks, he’d reveal too much.

“Well …” You throw a playful glance at him. “Shouldn’t we celebrate your success?”

His breath catches. “I—”

Before he manages to finish the sentence, a journalist calls out to him and that summons plenty more, swarming him with no chance of escape. It pushes you out of his peripheral vision, and Rafayel wants to shout your name, but you smile and gesture at him to entertain them first. You mouth, I’ll be back, and wander around other paintings some more.

When he finally succeeds in shaking the journalists off, he seeks you out and stumbles upon you near the exit, where there’s fewer people to pile on him.

“Excellent,” he says, sidling up beside you. You turn to him and smile, and there’s that lightning-flash of something again. For one unbelievably surreal instant, Rafayel thinks that despite your hazy memories, maybe you’d been waiting for him all this time, too.

And that thought emboldens him, moving closer and closer until your bodies almost touch. An asymptote of contact. But this time, he has mustered the courage to close that unbridgeable gap.

Rafayel offers you his hand. “Let’s get out of here?”

You stare at his hand then at his face, his eyes, and a meaningful moment stretches between you and him. But even before the idea of retracting enters his mind, you grab his hand joyfully, grinning ear to ear. His heart warms, full with everything.

You squeeze his hand, ready to go. “Lead the way, then!”

+

vi. a kiss is a greeting and a goodbye, and rafayel tasted of ferocious tides even if you'd seen them only in dreams. his eyes closed, as though savoring his last moments with you, guarded till the bitter end. would that i could ask you to stay—with me. but he shook his head—a final rejection. maybe in another life. there was nobody to watch you cry, in the after.

+

Rafayel is working on a new painting—a portrait this time. The model squirms on his couch, obvious about the discomfort of posing for too long. He huffs a laugh to himself, hidden by the canvas strategically placed between them.

“I heard that,” you grumble.

“Shush, you’re breaking my concentration.”

“If that already breaks your focus then I pity the rest of the art community.” A beat, then: “Is it done?”

“Patience, my dear muse. You need endure it a little more.”

“Hmph, fine. But after this you’re treating me to an all-you-can-eat buffet.”

“All right, all right.” He shakes his head, fond. “My muse, so demanding.”

Something sweet touches the edge of his tongue, succulent with a hint of tartness. Like longing. Except now, it’s layered with something new and exciting. Something like a new beginning.

In the far distance, the sea murmurs, lit fire by the setting sun.

[marshmellowzz]

HIII! I wanna be the first one to request on your blog(I hope I am😭😭) YOU DIDNT HAVE IN YOUR RULES,HOW MANY CHARACTERS YOU CAN REQUEST AT THE SAME TIME BUT I'D LOVE TO HAVE KISSING HEADCANONS(female reader) WITH MUZAN,GYUTARO,DOUMA AND AKAZA!! Thank youu :))

Uppermoon Kissing Headcannons 💞

A/N- Hi anon!!! I'm really sorry about the character request limit thing, I'll fix that right away. and yes! you are the first person to request, thank you lovely! i had a lot of fun with this request! I really hope you like it <3 (^з^)-☆Chu!!

Muzan:

Very rarely gets romantic with you, but oh boy when he does...

Muzan is a megalomaniac, he has a very inflated ego and a delusional sense of self worth, he sees no value in any life other than his own, so naturally, he even surprised himself when he took interest in a human—a lowly being like yourself. You are EXTREMELY lucky that you even caught his attention, and because of that he feels that he is entitled to you, he is your ultimate superior, your god, you should be groveling at his feet and thanking him for bestowing his affection onto you. From the very moment his eyes set on you, your fate was sealed.

Even so, he is a man that you've come to love, and because he's had many wives in the past he is extremely adept, and he knows exactly how to get you head over heels in love with him.

He is a traditional kisser, he's more into deep, heavy kisses to show intimacy. Although sometimes his kisses seem more demanding and rough. In short, he wants to show you what he really wants - he wants you to be his.

You are always left breathless and flustered no matter how many times he kisses you.

It gives him great pleasure to watch you gasp and pant as you desperately try to catch your breath. It makes him feel empowered, as he could go on for hours and he'd still be okay.

He'd probably be the one to initiate the kisses, that sense of superiority and need to exert power in any situation shines through in your relationship, he will kiss you when he wants to kiss you, and that's final.

Whenever he's in the mood he'd grab your cheeks and pull your face closer to his, until eventually your lips are feverishly against each other.

He'd grab your hips and pull you closer to get rid of any distance between you two, he wouldn't be very touchy-feely, but if he's in the frame of mind he'd be more teasing — squeezing your ass, rubbing his hands along your waist and hips, fondling with your breasts, etc.

Although he doesn't really like PDA, he is a very possessive man, and will sometimes bring you to meetings and kiss you in front of his subordinates to make clear that your his, and his alone.

Gyutaro:

His behavior would initially be extremely hesitant. He would pull away from you, insult you, mock you, whatever he could do to scare you away.

He would be very convinced that you were trying to tease him or were making fun of him.

Gyutaro is not very fond of himself. He usually compares himself to others and greatly envies/despises those who are fortunate or possess things that he longs for. Standing next to Daki, he has grown accustomed to being the unattractive sibling -- he just never imagined being loved the way you love him.

Daki doesn't help the situation very much either, she'd probably be reinforcing Gyutaro's thoughts of himself, she'd be like "Big brother, don't kid yourself! Y/n's probably just messin' with you!"

The truth is that he doesn't understand why you like him. He thinks it's silly when you compliment or lean in for a kiss, it's hard for him to accept that you're attracted to him, and at times he thinks you're trying to 'save him' or 'bless him'.

"Your pity doesn't matter to me, stupid girl."

Yeah...It'll be hard to convince him that you truly like him, and he probably wouldn't show you much affection initially.

After some time, he will grow to love your touch and kisses, even if they are small. It gives him comfort to know that you are not bothered by his appearance.

Gyutaro is more sloppy when he's kissing you, he completely abandons any rhyme or reason and simply lets his body take control.

He's newer to kissing so he might be a lil' inexperienced and inconsistent (please be patient with him he's trying 😭)

Sometimes he'll miss your mouth and plant a kiss on your cheek instead, he plays it off well, most times you don't even notice.

Gyutaro's kisses are more gentle and relaxed, he values a passionate kiss more than a harsh one.

It's difficult for him to express his tenderness, so he appreciates it when you initiate the kiss.

He's a sucker for knuckle and hand kisses. He has cold hands and he gets really blushy when you kiss his knuckles or try to warm up his hands.

The reason Gyutaro prefers small pecks and short kisses is not only because he finds them most comfortable, but also because he also struggles to commit to a long and sensual kiss because he is afraid you'll leave him and abandon the relationship you two have built.

If you want him to settle in and feel comfortable, you'll need to give him a lot of reassurance. At times he will pull himself away or withdraw from any affection; he does not believe someone like himself is worthy of your touch or your gentleness.

He likes PDA but only because you're something he can show off, you are like a boost of self-esteem for his emotionally-constipated-self, he likes to flaunt that even someone like him managed to bag a diamond like you.

Gyutaro loves cuddling and kissing, he loves being able to hold you close to him and just all around touching you, he's a very touch-starved individual—he will seize any opportunity he gets to feel your skin against his.

Douma:

Oh goodness...

Douma is definitely the most affectionate among them, which is ironic because under his carefree and outwardly friendly air the man is clinically apathetic, the concept of emotions being completely foreign to him, his love for you would be more of a source of amusement for him—something that he can play and toy with.

The only reason he kept you alive was because he found you pretty and grew quite fond of you.

Let's start off by saying that...Douma has zero concept for personal space, like...none.

He's always holding you, he loves placing you on his lap and just kissing you as he pleases.

His kisses come in wide variety and he gets very unpredictable at times.

For example, sometimes Douma places light and feathery kisses on your face, gently peppering them all over your face. Just cute small pecks!

He'll probably wait about ten minutes before jumping you and pulling you into a slow and savory kiss, the kind that always leaves you breathless.

Like, what happened to 'hello'? 'how are you'? 'my name is...'? what happened to that...?

He's extremely handsy as well, whether it's gently cradling your cheeks, his hands running down your inner thighs, or simply cupping your breasts in his hands. He just can't keep his hands off of you, you're too adorable!

He's very flirtatious and he loves to tease you, he just loves to see you get flustered or embarrassed.

"What's wrong, dearest? Cat got your tongue?"

Douma's favorite type of kiss would definitely be the French kiss, he likes the tongue work involved, he loves the sensation of his tongue on yours and he feels that it is very intimate.

Douma completely spoils you rotten, he buys you tons of chapstick flavors and colorful lipsticks and then kisses you to test which one tastes the best.

If you think he only does this in private then you are sorely mistaken.

In uppermoon meetings, Douma may just spontaneously invite you to a steamy make-out session just to annoy the rest of the group.

He's a sucker for PDA, he isn't jealous, he just wants to show you off. You are one of his most polished gems, and there's just no way he's going to keep you hidden from the world, he wants everybody to see your beauty.

Akaza:

He's probably the most appropriate and sensual with his kisses.

Akaza would also be hesitant with kissing. He is not a gentle man in the slightest, and he cherishes strength and takes pride in it. However, emotionally, as much as he wants to deny it, he is weak.

Akaza also has a weak spot for women, he'd like to tell himself that he doesn't eat them because they're simply helpless beings, but in reality the man cannot bring himself to harm them.

Generally, Akaza's kisses are deep and meaningful, his kisses have a lot of raw emotion behind them, and he doesn't just pass them around like they're charity.

It takes him an extremely long time to trust, he believes that showing love also showcases vulnerability, and he needs to be sure that you're going to be as committed as he is.

Although, once he falls, he falls HARD.

His kisses are a good representation of that. Akaza doesn't mind quick pecks, but he isn't a huge fan of them, he prefers to draw out his kisses for as long as he can. He lets his lips linger on yours, his arms tenderly wrapping around your body as he pulls you close enough that your foreheads lightly bump against each other.

He's a firm believer that the lips is the most intimate spot to kiss, he likes to kiss you there the most, and he likes it when you do the same for him. He wants to let you know that only you have access to that spot, and that you've gained a permanent spot in his heart.

Akaza is not one for PDA, he dislikes it and often avoids doing even the littlest things like holding hands or quick kisses in front of anybody. He feels that those are reserved for when you two are in the privacy of each others company. Not only that, but because he has an image he needs to maintain.

Akaza isn't unnecessarily handsy, but he's not afraid to get all touchy-feely with you.

Akaza also quite enjoys forehead kisses, he thinks it's a good way to show care, and affection. He uses it as a way to tell you 'I've gotcha,' or 'you're safe here,'.

An all around very sweet kisser! He uses it as a way to express how much he loves you without saying it out-loud.

[mt-oe]

I love ur workkkk 🥺🥺 … my heart melted

Can I request a mizu x reader in which reader was upset with mizu , and mizu trying to make reader feel happy with her ( I know I worded it poorly 😭😔. English is not my first language 😔). this can be sfw or nsfw. u write the spiciest nsfw stuff 😉

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Hey dear!

Thank you so much for requesting! I'm so sorry if this was WAY overdue. I'll try to make up for it by writing as best as I can <3

Also, please don't think too much about how you worded it. Trying to communicate your ideas, regardless of how you worded it, is already enough.

On an unrelated note, I am temporarily closing my inbox so I can catch up on requests. I wouldn't want to rush since that might compromise the quality of the fics. I deeply appreciate the messages and comments and would really like to answer them but I'm still too shy ;; I promise I'm really trying. Please don't get mad or disappointed in me. Thank you for understanding!

Anyways, I hope you enjoy! Mwa mwa :*

warning/s: not proofread, she/her for mizu, implied afab reader

Mizu has done a lot of things before. Her sword has known the blood of many, cut through numerous organs, and had seen death like it was the next door neighbor. The fights she had fought were more ferocious than what most warriors could stomach. With a will of steel and the mind of a tactician, a capable swordsman she truly was. But...

How the hell was she going to get through this one?

Cerulean orbs narrowed as she watched you, or more precisely, your back. Her gaze roaming from the tips of your hair to the way your back slumped. Your huffs and whispered grumbles were the only sound that could be heard from the room.

She could feel her palms sweating and her fingers running cold. Not a single coherent thought formed in her brain from how unnerving the situation was. For the first time in her life, she was faced with an opponent she did not know how to defeat.

And this opponent was strong. Not even the swing of her sword or the strength of her hands could quell the wrath and sheer rage of this enemy. Mizu knew she had to plan her next move well or this could cost her everything.

And this opponent...was her wife's anger.

Yes, the ronin who quite literally bit someone's nose, survived a fall from several stories high, burned down Edo, was utterly helpless under her lover's wrath.

"I said I was sorry. What else do I have to do?" she asked, placing a hand on your shoulder, trying to pull you to face her. A groan of frustration boiled at her throat as you shrugged her hand off harshly. "I said I was sorry. What else do I have to do?" you mocked her, imitating her low voice before sticking your tongue. "Go figure it out yourself! Hmph!"

This was so stupid, she thought. But despite the words in her head, she was utterly lost.

All this drama just because she missed a kabuki show that you wanted to watch?

Sure, you had told her ahead of time. Sure, you already planned it out. Sure, you were already at the venue. But it was just a goddamn stage play, what were you so upset about? There would be another show next week with the same story anyway, and if you were so excited to watch, you could have watched it without her.

So what was the big deal about it?

She rolled her eyes before standing up, looking at you in resignation. "Fine, sulk," she grumbled in response, to which you stuck your tongue out. She rolled her eyes once again before strapping her sword to her waist. "Talk when you're no longer acting like a brat." And with those words, she left, slamming the door and causing it to bounce open slightly.

Upon hearing her footsteps fading, you immediately let out a loud sigh. You turned to look at the spot where your lover had previously sat on with a sense of hurt. "But I wanted to go on a date..." you whispered to yourself, throat tightening.

This was one of those moments where you really just had to say, 'it is what it is', and pretend to not get hurt.

You knew Mizu wasn't the most romantic person on the planet. Hell, it was even a surprise that she asked you out. However, there were times when you wished you could open her head and shove some cheesy romance novels, because how the fuck did she not get that you were asking her out on a date?

Urgh.

"What am I even expecting?" you asked yourself out loud, bringing the tickets you had bought for both of you. Tickets that were wasted just because she thought training and buying supplies were more important than spending 4 hours watching a play in a theater with her wife. "Maybe next time I'll just watch her train."

You love her. Of course you did. And you knew she loves you too, but sometimes her inability to understand or express romance made you question it.

Slowly and painfully, you tore up the tickets and fed it to the candle flame, watching as it turned to ashes. Welp. There goes your idea of a romantic evening. "And I planned it for so long too," you sighed as you brought your knees to your chest.

Unbeknown to you, your wife had secretly sneaked back, sitting beside the small door crack she had intentionally made earlier. A small frown on her face as she realized how much she fucked up.

You were right.

You did plan it for a long time. She could see your eyes widen every time the two of you passed by the theatre whenever you went out for supplies, filled with excitement that she couldn't understand then. And you already told her early, so it wasn't like it was out of the schedule or out of the way. Most of all, you were already at the venue.

You were waiting for this for such a long time.

You were waiting for her for such a long time.

And she wasted your efforts. She somehow thought that what you were so eager for was something she could trade for a few hours of extra training.

Guilt welled up in her as she continued to listen to your sighs, peeking inside the room every now and then to make sure you were okay. Her heart clenched in an odd, unfamiliar, yet extremely uncomfortable way at the sight of your frown.

Damnit. Mizu knew she messed up big time. However, even if she felt absolutely terrible, she also knew she couldn't just come back in and reveal that she had just watched you go through five stages of grief in less than an hour or else you'd feel like you forced her to apologize. But how could she make up for this?

As she was deep in thought, thinking of ways on how she could apologize, she suddenly heard the soft padding sound of your feet on the tatami mat as you stood up. "I guess I'll take a nap. Maybe I'll feel better when I wake up," she heard you sigh for the umpteenth time.

Her eyes watched you stretch before pulling the futon out of the closet and set it up. Your hands carefully undid the pins stuck to your hair before laying down, pulling the covers over you, the frown you wore never dissipating.

She could feel her conscience weighing down on her, telling her what a dense idiot she was. The feeling hitting her like a ton of bricks as she watched you slowly fall asleep with a heavy heart.

No, she wasn't going to let your day go on like this. If she fucked up, she's fixing it up.

Slowly and carefully, she got up and sneaked away, leaving the inn and going to the market. No matter how unexperienced or how unknowledgeable she was with how to comfort a person, Mizu was going to try her best.

-

Hours passed and the short nap you had planned turned into one of the longest one you've had yet. It wasn't a pleasant one, but it wasn't the worst either. Your eyes slowly fluttered open before squinting at the faint glow of the candle. The world felt slightly heavy and tilted as your head spu—wait? The candle?

"Oh shit," you whispered, shooting up and looking around in panic, head still spinning from grogginess. Oh no, you forgot to blow out the candle before your nap and accidentally kept it burning. Mizu was going to pissed at you, especially since it was the last one.

But wait—

Shouldn't it have burnt out already?

You brought the back of your hand to your eyes, rubbing away the sleep and grogginess to have a better look around. However, upon looking up, surprise took over your senses.

The room was...decorated?

Or at least there was an attempt.

At a distance from the foot of your futon sat your lover with a wooden crate in front of her. A bit of relief washed over your body as you realized that she had taken care of the candle for you, but still, you were heavily confused. "Mizu...what's going on?" you asked, yawning a bit.

She looked at you with the same emotionless stare she had before sighing. Her hands slowly turned the crate around so the opening was facing you. It was decorated too, and even if it was poorly recreated, you could recognize the setting. It was very similar to the kabuki theater you wanted to go to.

From her back, she brought out two dolls. One wearing a kimono in a color similar to what you were wearing, and one male doll that looked like a samurai. A heavy exhale could be heard coming from her as the embarrassment started kicking in. Was she really going to do this? Yes, yes she was.

Clearing her throat, she moved the dolls to the makeshift stage as she began her narration. "Once upon a time, in a small village, stayed a ronin and her wife." She glances momentarily at you before looking down again, a faint dust of blush on her cheeks. "Her very beautiful wife," she clarified.

Your eyes widened with a mix of delight and surprise. The grogginess from your sleep wore off at the sweetness of your lover's effort. You couldn't believe it. It was a stage play. A stage play about the two of you.

Her hands moved the dolls on stage, making them hold hands as she narrated the events in the story. "But one day, the ronin, being very foolish, decided to go up in the mountains and train instead of accompanying her wife," she said, dolls moving to match her words.

"And her wife..." she continued, moving your doll to look like it was sulking, "...got very upset." Blue eyes looked at you once again to check if you were still watching. You could tell that she was being very sincere about this.

"Not knowing what to do, the ronin went out to think and realized that she was indeed wrong and had been inconsiderate, that her wife was really just trying to bond and spend time in merriment."

She slowly set the dolls down and readjusted, sitting up straight before bowing her head slightly. "And so, the ronin apologized," she said with all seriousness. "I'm sorry, love. I knew you wanted to go out for so long. I should have appreciated your efforts more. I have no excuses."

Silence embraced the room after, completely amplifying the pounding of her heart as she awaited your response. Jitters ran through her body from nervousness. Mizu didn't dare look up, not until you gave her a response.

Seconds felt like minutes as she waited. An unexplainable kind of anxiety holding over her. What if you didn't like the little show she put? What if she just made your anger worse? Her thoughts were scattering by the millisecond. She wanted nothing more than for you to forgive her.

Her heart stopped as she saw your hands reach for the dolls, looking over them before making your doll face her doll.

"And the wife accepted the apology," you giggled, bending your dolls head slightly so it would kiss the representing her. Before she could speak, she felt your lips on her cheek. The sweet sound of your laughter soon followed, making her blush.

You lifted the dolls up to eye level and looked at them fondly. "You really went out and beyond, didn't you?" you laughed, wiggling them around in some form of cuteness aggression. She lifted her head and smiled softly. "I didn't know what to do," she admitted, finding your fondness for the dolls adorable. "And I really wanted to go back to my wife."

"You could have just said sorry, dummy. But.." your voice trailed off, eyes looking back at your wife's, leaning closer to her. "This made me unbelievably happy," you admitted. "Thank you, love."

Your wife's smile widened as you leaned in and kissed her softly. Her hands instinctively pulling you closer. Love and affection radiated from her as both of you pulled away, gazing lovingly into each other's eyes. Her breath hitched as you opened your mouth, anticipation building up regarding what you were going to say.

"But next time you do that, you're sleeping without a futon."

"Yes ma'am"

[luvangelbreak]

pls do something based on chris’s birthmark / waist… 😭 i cant

Touch

christopher sturniolo x alice reyna (female!oc) summary: chris and alice have been friends for 6 months and dating for 3 months but alice has never noticed his birthmark. warnings: swearing, very suggestive, fluff? word count: 1.5k a/n: this request is kinda vague so i tried my best to work with what i had LMAO. this one is kinda short but i hope u like it <3

not proofread!

It was the first hot day in months and Alice had convinced Chris, Nick and Matt to go to Malibu with her. By the time they arrived at the beach, getting themselves situated on the sand, it was about 6 pm and the heat of the day was beaming down on them.

"Ali," Nick said grabbing Alice's attention and she spun around after laying her towel flat on the ground, "Do you have the sunscreen?"

"Yeah, here," she nodded, grabbing it out of her handbag and throwing the bottle to Nick who quickly started covering himself in the protective liquid. She quickly tied her hair up into a ponytail to keep it out of her face before she slid off her t-shirt and shorts.

"It's so fucking hot," Matt groaned, sliding off his shirt and sitting down on his towel beside Nick. Alice nodded in agreement as Chris took the black cap off of his head, throwing it onto Alice's bag.

"Fuck this. I'm going straight to the water," Alice announced, throwing her phone on top of her bag before she jogged down the beach. Her feet reached the water, the coldness giving her immediate relief and she instantly ran in, the water reaching her shoulders.

She heard a splash behind her and she turned around to see her boyfriend appear from under the water behind her. He shook his head, shaking the water off of his hair like a dog making her raise her hand to avoid water getting in her eyes.

"Hey," Chris said smoothly, swimming towards her as she smiled at him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer, "You look pretty, ma."

"You look like a wet dog with this hair," she giggled at him, swiping a few pieces of his wet hair off of his face. He once again shook his head, making her face scrunch as she turned away from him, "Asshole."

"You love me," he mumbled, leaning forward and pressing a delicate kiss to her lips making her melt into him. She pushed her feet off of the ocean floor, wrapping her legs around his waist and he moved his hands to hold her up by her thighs.

"You're lucky you're cute because you're a fucking idiot," she mumbled against his lips with a smile making him return the facial expression, squeezing her thighs and she squeaked, "Chris. We're in public."

"How am I supposed to not touch you when you look this good?" he asked rhetorically with a smirk and she rolled her eyes, pretending to be annoyed.

She was never truly annoyed with how clingy he was, in fact, she loved it. Whenever they were together, they would be touching in one way or another. Chris always wanted to be close to her, to feel her skin on his. He was like that with his friends, he loved being physically close with anyone he loved and cared about but it was a whole new level with Alice. He couldn't resist squeezing her waist or grabbing her ass, no matter if they were in public or not.

"Alright love birds. Stop fucking in the water," they heard Matt's voice appear beside them and they looked over to see him dip under the water getting his hair wet. Soon enough, Nick joined them in the water and they all swam around until their legs got tired, their arms hurting from splashing heaping amounts of water at each other.

They began walking out of the water and Nick spoke up, "You guys wanna get ice cream?"

"I'm beat. You guys can go," Alice answered tiredly as she walked across the sand.

"I'll come," Matt shrugged to Nick and they all looked at Chris whose mind seemed somewhere else, "Chris?"

"Huh?" he asked, turning to see they were all staring at him.

"You wanna come with me and Nick to get ice cream?" Matt asked, used to his brother zoning out by now and Chris shook his head, stopping right beside his towel.

"I'm tired. I'll wait with Ali," he explained, grabbing the towel off the sand and shaking it off before wrapping it around his shoulders, drying off his hair as best he could.

"You want us to bring any back?" Nick asked, sliding his t-shirt on his torso as Matt slung his t-shirt over his shoulder.

"I'm good," Alice responded and Chris shook his head. Matt and Nick grabbed what they needed before bidding their farewells, promising that they'd be back soon. Alice plopped herself down on her towel, her legs spread out in front of her as she leaned back on her palms.

Her boyfriend decided to push her knees apart and place himself between them, his back to her as he looked out at the sea. Alice smiled at his actions, his clinginess showing once again. She scanned his hair and trailed her eyes along his neck and shoulders. She loved every inch of him but she'd realised she never paid much mind to his back.

Her eyes took in every detail, freckles and all. It was only then that she noticed a round birthmark the size of a bottle cap on his lower back. She leaned forward, taking one of her hands and running her fingertips along the birthmark making him jump.

"I didn't know you had a birthmark," she said softly and he spun around to look at her, a smile on his lips.

"It's how our parents used to tell me and Matt apart when we were babies," he explained and she nodded, her fingertips delicately trailing his flesh raising goosebumps on the skin.

She leaned forward, placing her chin on his shoulder as she wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him closer to her. She liked that Chris didn't necessarily care about being the big or little spoon, he just wanted to be close to her in any way he could and if that meant he was the little spoon, he was happy as a clam.

"I love you so much," she mumbled, placing a kiss on his shoulder and he leaned his head back on her shoulder, turning his head to meet her lips with his.

"I love you, ma," he smiled against her and she had butterflies on her stomach once again, this moment somehow feeling private and intimate despite the amount of people on the beach with them.

"I love your hair and your eyes. I love your nose, your lips, your jaw," she gently kissed his jaw making his eyes flutter close as he placed his hands on her forearms that were still around his torso, "I love your neck and shoulders and arms. And your hands, god your hands."

He chuckled, opening his eyes to look at her with a love-filled gaze, "You're really gassing me up here."

"I'm not done," she quipped making him smile once again, "I love your chest and your back. I love your waist," she squeezed his sides lightly making him let out a heavy breath, "And your hips. Your thighs are better than mine."

"Not true," he mumbled, his gaze fixated on her face that was illuminated by the sun that was slowly falling closer to the horizon.

"Very true," she retorted making him shake his head, "I never knew I could love a person's legs but here we are. Fuck your feet though. I will never love anyone's feet."

"That's so rude," he frowned at her with a fake pout making her roll her eyes with a smile, "I love your feet."

"That's because your fucking weird," she teased him as she squeezed his waist again making his eye flutter closed.

"I like it when you do that," he whispered, his hard demeanour completely disappearing when it was just the two of them.

"This?" she asked before gripping his waist gently once more and he hummed in response as she bit her lip, "Well we are in public so maybe we'll wait till we're back at yours before you start humping the air."

He whined out of aggravation, opening his eyes to look up at her again, "But it feels nice."

He pouted at her once again and she shook her head, placing another kiss on his lips before saying, "It feels nice because you're horny. I can see you getting hard, baby. I'm not doing it again."

He pursed his lips, grabbing his towel which was behind his back and pulling it over his lap making her giggle.

"I wanna go home now," Chris rolled his eyes and she chuckled at him once again. She decided to tease him a little bit now that the towel was over his lap and she ran her fingertips softly along his waist.

"You're gonna have to wait," she said softly before placing a kiss on his jaw and gripping his waist once again, eliciting a groan from him as he slid down further.

"Fuck you," he frowned up at her and she gave him a sly smirk, kissing his lips gently before looking into his blue eyes being illuminated by the sun.

"Yeah, I know you want to," she giggled before looking up, seeing his brothers approaching them with ice creams in hand, "Pull yourself together. They're back."

[dulcewrites]

Fool Me Once (part 5)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader (Aegon ii x reader 👀) (wc: 6k)

Summary: As the further truths are uncovered, the battle for the Iron Throne begins

A/N: soooo, I said part 5 would be the last part, but in typical annoying writer fashion I’m not so sure now 😭. Either way, I truly cannot express how grateful I am for all the followers, and support I have received since starting it. I consider fmo my brain child but our baby with how interactive people have been. I’d love to get feedback or request on what hotd stuff you guys want to see from me. My inbox is always open so please let me know how you liked fmo (any thoughts or headcanons) and what you want to see 🫶🏽

Fmo masterlist

“We should run away to Yi-Ti.”

You look up from Aemond’s desk at Aegon with an exasperated expression. It was not the first time Aegon had thrown out the idea of leaving King’s Landing for good. There always an idealistic nature about Aegon that is as sweet as it is delusional. You know the guilt he would feel about leaving, and he knows you would too.

I have a dragon we can who can drop us anywhere. I can shave my head and we can change our identities

“You are supposed to help me be looking for this map,” Not bothering to give the same speech you tell him every time he brings it up.

Gently placing everything where you found it, you squat down to check the cabinets of the desk. Aemond kept his study annoyingly tidy, and you are sure we would notice if anything were out of place. The last thing you need is another argument.

There are multiple books, all of them relating to Westerosi histories, and a plethora of written works of poetry. Nothing stands out till you find a pile of letters. Your throat tightens. It shouldn’t hurt anymore, but now the situation has moved past just Aemond wanting to be with someone else. It affects your kids, your relationship with everyone in the family.

You are just tired, and you just want it end. Or at least to have some sort of closure through an explanation or an apology. You are not holding your breath for the later.

With a sigh, you sit, slumped against the wall. Across from the desk. Noticing you are out of his view, Aegon walks around the desk and sits next to you. The two of you sit in silence before Aegon speaks.

“We can skip dinner,” he suggests softly. “I am sure our absence will not be noticed.”

It is a lie. You both know that if you do not show up, you will be in for an earful from Alicent. Especially now that Viserys has finally worked up the strength to leave his chambers. Aegon reaches over to grab your hand. You look at the large ring on his pinkie finger. The golden scales an ode to Sunfyre. Even with all the problems Aegon has with family, he has always fully embraced his dragon. A bond you have never seen before between rider and dragon. You run your hand over the cool metal.

“You know, despite my hesitance towards dragons, sometimes I am envious of you guys for having them.” you laugh flatly. “It is not even the beasts themselves, but everything they represent. This strange strength that means you are better than everyone else. A free pass for destruction.”

The past year and a half had been a sobering one. You feel so disconnected from yourself. Depleted by actions outside of your control.

“But then I think maybe it is good I do not have a dragon; or more so I do not have the power that comes along with it. I have spent my whole life doing exactly what I was supposed to, just to still get dealt a hand of misfortune,” you murmur emotionless. “I fear that there was tiny seed of hate put in me when I first found out about Aemond’s actions, and that everything that has happened since has only made me more bitter and revengeful. I was told that fighting wrong doings with more destruction was never the answer. I do not know how much I believe that now.”

You look over at Aegon with an illegible look in your eyes. “I would go mad with the things I would do with that kind of power.”

Aegon swallows thickly. Honestly, his first instinct is to make a joke. You, the girl who got teary eyed when she learned about the field of sheep kept in the Red Keep for the dragons, speaking with such gravity. But his eyes travel to the faded scar on your arm and back up to you. The harm done to yourself, grief-stricken eyes, and tired frown. He’s only seen that type of look on his mother. The most persistent person he has ever known, and probably will ever know. She wakes up every day to tend to a man that has never done right by her and run a kingdom she did not want in the first place. There is a simmering type hate in your eyes that he is sure only comes from being around his family for too long.

He wonders if this is how his mother felt when she had him. Young, exhausted, and utterly pissed.

“You are not the only one who feels that way,” he softly. “But - you cannot let it get the best of you. Once you get in that place, it is hard to get out.”

You know he speaks from experience. Resentment leaves a bad taste in the mouth of those who feel like life has let them down.

You want to say that another worry is what will happen if you ever find equal footing with the men in your life. Would the spell wear off you were a flight risk? Would you be seen as a volatile powder keg if not a maiden to come to the defense of? Would you be seen as the prize in his eyes if you were not in the position you ate in? In that moment, you think you should tell him about what you let his grandsire do. If anyone would understand, it would be Aegon. Instead, you lean your head against his shoulder.

You do not have the words for that just yet.

————

The search for the map in Aemond’s study goes unsuccessful. You decide to change tactics. There is a slight uneasiness you get digging through his things in the chambers. Soft whiff of lavender and citrus hit you nose as you look through folded clothes of his. You heart rate spikes when you see a scroll of thin parchment. Looking back to check the door, you then unroll the paper.

There is various lines and arrows, but the words are all in high Valyrian. You have picked up and word here and there since being in the Red Keep, but not well enough translate every word. Instead, you follow the arrows. Walking around the room in a way you are sure would look silly to someone if they walked in.

You find yourself in front of the small outline wall next to your clothing wardrobe. Blinking blankly at the wall, you frown. You run your fingers gently across the fabric on the wall. The deep red and gold stitching smooth under your hands. You push harder than intended and gasp when the wall swings open.

In front of you are stairs that lead down a pathway. A tunnel. You do not venture too far, but you see where the path is leading to. Daemon had given Aemond a direct line to outside the Red Keep. And a direct line for anyone to come in.

But why?

As you walk down the tunnel, something shiny catches your eye on ground. You pick up a single earring. A gold plaited coin earring. It is oddly familiar, but you cannot seem to put your finger on who it belongs to.

All you do know is that someone has been using the tunnel recently.

A part of you wanted to storm through the castle and find Aemond. Have him explain what the Seven Hells has been going on. Or if he even used the tunnels. But you surprise yourself when you knock on the Hand’s study door. Perhaps he is not the best person to go to in this state. You know it is not comfort you will find. But for all his faults, Otto Hightower will tell you want you need to hear or at least you will have his ear.

You are now not naive to how much Lord Hightower seems to want to keep you around.

After it was decided Aemond and you were to get married, you were not clueless enough not see the clear advantages not only for you house, but also for his. Your only naive thought being the mutual benefit would keep you safe or protected.

When you walk into the study, you find Otto sitting at his desk, staring out of the window. You know Viserys’ surprise appearance at the petition hearings rattled him as much as it pleased Rhaenyra and her family. You do not know where to begin or what you are even expecting of this conversation.

“Did you know about the tunnels,” you blurt suddenly. “The ones that run under the castle.”

In typical Otto fashion, his face does not give anything away. But he does shake his head, and gestures for you to continue.

“I…. I think Prince Daemon may have had something to do with my… problem.”

That makes Otto lean forward in his seat, the mention of Daemon clearly stirring something in him. You aren’t ready to put anything on Princess Rhaenyra yet. Partly because you are still wonder where her limits are opposed to seeing exactly how Daemon operates. And because just saw what happens when you question Rhaenyra, even if you have proof or a valid criticism.

“And if they had something to do with her, I cannot help but wonder if they had something to do with what happened to Alaric’s blanket,” you still shudder thinking about it.

You already had a deep sense of guilt since giving Otto the go ahead to find Alys. Taking a life is not something you want on your hand and conscious, and it only doubles knowing how this all could have been a perfectly plotted scheme. Your anger at your husband reaches a new level. Whether Alys was the shiny poisoned apple or a woman in love that has gone rouge, this still involves your kids.

“It seems your family’s influence is something many have noticed,” Otto finally speaks, voice gravely and tone even.

Your brows furrow. “They think threatening my son is going to make me tell my parents or uncle to back Rhaenyra’s claim?”

Your grandsire was an old man by the time Rhaenyra was named heir; your uncle took over for your house shortly after that time. And your uncle was just as thrilled as your parents when you married Aemond, clearly excited to have familiar ties to the Targaryen family. Now that you thought about it, you had never asked him where he stood when it comes to Rhaenyra being heir. But based on knowing how your family acquired their wealth and how they operate, they have never been ones to stray from tradition. Despite your grandsire bending the knee to Rhaenyra, you get the feeling everything is up the air especially with you being the good sister to the other possible claim.

“No, dear girl,” Otto sighs, eyes growing tired. “But I am sure they think you feeling unsafe here and having no love for your husband’s actions will.”

Your mind goes back to Rhaenyra’s offer. You are always welcomed at Dragonstone.

They hoped you would seek refuge in them, and in turn feel compelled to drop any allegiance you have to this side of the family. Did they know about how close you had grown to Aegon or to Helaena? Or that even through this turbulent time, you still find yourself having a soft spot for Alicent. You are sure they would reassure your safety if you ever switched side, but you know your safety was not a priority to them. Only the men or ships that would come with it.

“I am not shocked Daemon would go to such lengths, if true,” Otto says. “I would say I am shocked Rhaenyra would go along with it, but the Princess has always found a way to involve herself in things while feign innocence.”

His words make you raise a brow. You never knew if the Hand’s anger towards the Princess came from how she treated Alicent or his grandchildren, or if it came from the pressure he felt to get Aegon on the throne. Perhaps it is Alicent, even all this time and animosity, still craving a relationship with Rhaenyra that eats him up the most.

“You do not need to worry about that. Everything will be put to rest once the rightful heir is put on the throne, and any possible threats have been ridden,” his tone turns stern. You scoff sardonically in response. This is never going to end till there is a clear winner, and win to means there was a fight. War. That would only start if…

“The Queen would never let you do that. Usurp the throne or kill Rhaenyra,” you say immediately. Otto eyes narrow; the tell. It will always be Rhaenyra for his daughter, and it burns him inside. But that can be used in your favor. “Not unless she had more reason to. Rhaenyra could be a good queen for all we know, but her brazenness will always be her pitfall. Now she has Daemon at her side. Spilled blood is clearly not something he is worried about.”

You sit back in your chair and think for a second. Entitlement is like a dangerous herbal, and many members of this family get off on it.

“If you want Aegon on the throne, it may be best to take your time with this. Give Rhaenyra the chance to do what you think she does best… mess it up.”

By the time the power struggle between Rhaenyra and Daemon finally comes to fruition, maybe Aegon think differently. Your mind goes to Aemond, stewing silently about how his brother manages to get everything handed to him. You bite back a smile. Is a miserable existence to always be in the cards for him? If being with you is so terrible to him, maybe that is exactly what he deserves.

“I think I know how to start this off.”

———

You leave Otto’s study, but not before he leaves you with a long, meaningful glance and tells you he needs to discuss somethings with others. You assume it is the council, but you have a feeling his daughter is not privy to that.

The next time you see everyone is at dinner. Your eyes strained on the empty plate in front of you. A sick feeling coming over you every time you look down the table at Daemon and Rhaenyra. A large gap for the king between Rhaenyra and Alicent.

There is something unsettling about how everyone seems to think what happened in the Grand Hall was nothing. You all saw a man beheaded, and now are to sit down to a "family meal" at the behest of the King. The only mention of Vaemond comes in a prayer from Alicent; you catch the eyeroll given by Daemon. The lives of others are expendable if it prolongs or prompts up whatever claim is being fought for.

False promises do nothing to move you while that is all that makes up the Targaryen family. False promises to make up for future deceit. The gull of Viserys to plea for peace when many the broken relationships in the family can be tied to him. Tied to his indecisive, feeble reign as a king. The King That Never Should Have Been perhaps.

A sick sense of irony rushes over you watching his rioting body and empty eye socket while sitting next to Aemond. You have learned that the Gods can be deliciously cruel.

The crown not stand strong is the House of the Dragon remains divided

It’s all flowery words that seem to go in one ear and out the other for your peers. You can tell by the way Aegon’s eyes gloss over, Helaena brows burrow as she fiddles with whatever butterfly Aegon gave her, and how Aemond’s back stiffens that this final push for family unity comes too late. But it seems that all the older adults in the room are moved by the Viserys' speech, or at least Alicent and Rhaenyra are.

You and Otto, sitting across from each other, share a look when Alicent says that Rhaenyra would make a fine queen. The Queen and Princess exchange shy smiles and peripheral glances; for a moment, they look like young girls, untarnished by the world around them.

Your eyes catch Jacaerys’, and he gives you a warm smile. You try to replicate it to the best of your ability. None of Rhaenyra or Daemon’s children have done anything to make you suspicious of them, especially Baela and Rhaena. But you do notice how Lucerys never seems to look you in the eyes. You are still trying to figure out if that is a byproduct of you being Aemond’s wife or if he is privy to information.

When you were receiving offers for your hand, Jacaerys’ name had come up by members of your house but was instantly shut down by your parents. Though the idea of you being future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms was tempting, but they did want to risk the embarrassment of the worst kept secret being spoken. Marrying a bastard was not the vision they had for you, Queen or not.

But when the music behinds, you do get an idea.

“I going to dance,” you whisper to Aemond.

“You know I do not like dancing,” Aemond sighs, and Aegon gives you a look at the corner of his eye. You roll your eyes at him. You remember the lecture his mother had to give him before the wedding festivities about being a good sport, and dancing with you.

“I never said I wanted to dance with you,” you hiss at him, and get up. You feel Aemond and Aegon watching you as you walk to Jace.

“I was wondering if we could dance,” you hold your hand out. Eyes going from Jace to Baela. “If your betrothed is fine with it of course.”

Baela gives you a good-natured shrug and smile. Jace looks surprised by your offer, but nonetheless grabs your hand and leads you to the free area near the table. You turn back briefly to see Aegon and Aemond look at you with mirrored looks of disbelief and disgust. You have duck your head to keep from laughing.

“I have to warn you I am not much of dancer,” Jace smiles as you begin to dance. “But I am sure I cannot be any worse than my uncle.”

You raise a brow at the comment but say nothing. While you are dancing, you see Viserys get carried out. The fact that he has lived to this point is a marvel… and a confusion. He refuses to go away.

“I do hope after that all of this, our families can see each other more often,” he lowers his voice slightly. The sentence seemed sincere enough, but he has also grown up having pretend half of him does not exist. If it is something Alicent and Rhaenyra’s children have in common, it is knowing when to put on a front. They learned it beautifully from their mothers. “I am sure Daella would appreciate seeing Dragonstone. And the girls would love you around.”

There is that mention of Dragonstone again. Before you can even reply, a commotion disturbs you. You turn to see Aemond standing with a drink in his hand.

“I want to make some final tributes,” a small smirk comes onto his face, and his eye flicks over to you. “First, to my dear wife. A gracious mother, and always keeps me on my toes.”

Your face gets hot when everyone’s eyes turn to you. Alicent looks at her son with a nervous look in her big eyes, confused by his sudden need to speak after a dinner of silence.

“And to health of my nephews - Jace, Luke, and Joffrey,” a sinking feeling comes into your stomach. There’s a glint in Aemond’s eye that you recognize all too well, and know not to trust. You see Jace’s shoulders tense at the mention of him and his brothers. “Each of them handsome, wise…. Strong.”

Your throat tightens. Even putting aside, the absolute irony of that coming from him now, you all just saw what happened to someone who questions the parentage of them. And now he is doing here in front of everyone.

“Aemond,” you begin, not even caring to use formalities with him. He cuts you off and continues.

“Come, let us drain our cups to the three Strong boys.”

And of course, to make matters worse, Aegon confidently raises his goblet in the air. They’re imbeciles. Everything seems to happen in slow motion - Jace punching Aemond, Aemond pushing Jace with ease, to out of the corner of your eye, Aegon slamming Luke’s face into the table. You wince at the scene before you as Helaena gets up to move you out of the way of the guards restraining Jace and Luke.

Alicent and Rhaenyra both get up from the table, yelling at their boys to stop. You take notice of the roasted pig on the table; you had heard about the pink dread prank from Helaena. It was never something you pushed with Aemond or Aegon, knowing it led to a large rift in their relationship. You know they love each other; you can tell by the way they backed each other up that they do. They just do not have the words to express their love, or their pain.

A dinner that was meant to bring everyone together ruined. There will probably always be too much bad blood, and not enough honest or apologies for reconciliation. Before Daemon leaves the room after staring Aemond down, he gives you a smile filled with mirth. A chill runs up your spine.

You watch as Alicent all but walks up to Rhaenyra, eyes soft and pleading. She gently rubs her arm as they smile at each other.

With the dinner going wrong, Aemond stalking out of the room, and learning about the map - everything seems to be put into perspective. As you watch your good mother, you wonder if that is how you will be with Aemond. Always waiting and ready for reconciliation, even despite mistreatment. Foolishly dismissive to how you can be hurt again if it means just moments of reprieve. Or maybe a better comparison would be Rhaenyra and Daemon. Knowing exactly what situation you got into, but still finding yourself wanting more because you thought you would be the exception. Both scenarios mean being in a constant loop of love and hate, praying for the day you reach apathy.

Rhaenyra seems to share Alicent’s warm disposition. Everything is warm and lovely when Rhaenyra smile. She is the Realm’s Delight for a reason. Even with the little time you have spent around Rhaenyra, you see how she operates. It is the way all Targaryens are treat her like the world revolves around her, and she’s yours. Entitlement and confidence used to mask a hallow shell, a trait she shares with her husband.

The possible reconnection of old companions would be a sweet affair. Instead, you finally get the complaining Aegon does about his half-sister. To hear the praises of those who have little regard for you.

Daemon giving Aemond the map, Alys introduction into your life, Rhaenyra telling you Dragonstone will always be a place you can go, and your families ties to this family are all connected. The same way your marriage to Aemond was always leading to something.

It was always a question you pondered since coming to the Red Keep. Does the Iron Throne corrupt those who vie for it or do those who vie for it corrupt the Crown itself?

Now not only have you been caught in the crossfire, but you children as well. And who knows what will come of the rest of your family once King Viserys dies. One thing you do know is that you will not leave any stone unturned by the time Rhaenyra tries to sit the throne. If your involvement is what they want, your involvement is what they will get. If your happiness and well-being is worth the price of the throne, what would happen if it was taken away right when she had it? Like your stability or sanity, ripped away without any caution or care.

This power that Rhaenyra is sure is hers to claim. The one that those want so badly for Aegon. The seat Aemond watches enviously as Aegon scoffs at the idea of it.

“Princess Rhaenyra,” you call out after her before she leaves the dining hall. You reach out to grab her hand in a similar manner to Alicent. “I want to talk with you about Dragonstone.”

If they are willing to rip each other apart for the Iron Throne, so be it.

Aegon and Aemond stare at you like you have three heads when you tell them about wanting to stay at Dragonstone. Aegon goes as far as to giggle at your proposal. His eyes wild and glossy from the abundance of wine.

A part of you thought maybe you should just leave, but you know them. There is nowhere you can go that they cannot find you on dragon back. Plus, you still had to explain everything to your parents. You let them in on you leaving while holding some cards to your chest. Their faces go through a mirage of expressions. Aegon's brows shooting up when you mention the tunnels and Daemon while Aemond's going painfully stoic. You know he does not want you or Aegon to get a read on what he is thinking.

"So, you think Daemon and by extension Rhaenyra knew about the Strong whore, and wanted you to be upset enough to leave," Aegon begins sardonically, and Aemond's eye flickers to him when he says whore. "And in response.... you are leaving. Wow dearest, you are really sticking it to them."

You glare at him. You know he is hurt that you are leaving, even if it is for a short time. He is upset that this all leads back to the throne. For every part of Aegon that is loyal and loves deeply, there are parts that are equally selfish. It hits you that Aegon has never had to try with relationships; the only ones he knows are with women that are his family or with ones where he can buy their affection. Those women have no choice but to be around. But you are leaving, and without him… that would be a blow he would not recover from.

"I am not going for long, and I will be taking Quinton with me," you say, and Aegon rolls his eyes in response. "They involved my son, so I will get to the bottom of it."

"I'm sure Jace will be thrilled to hear it," he scoffs.

"You have no right to be jealous; you are not my husband."

It was cruel to say, and you can tell by the way his resolve turns from anger to bitterness. "I am needlessly reminded of that, thank you."

Your brows furrow at that. Who is reminds him of that? You sigh, running your hands over your face.

“This is punishment. This is because of me.”

Aemond finally speaks up, interrupting your argument with Aegon. He looks away from the fire and at you with a look you have not seen in moons. Sadness. You are sure this news is a lot for him to take in. It would be a lie to say that you are not at least a little happy that he feels uneasy about you possibly leaving. Or a little happy that the love story he had built in his head was not exactly what it seems.

It would serve him right. He felt comfortable enough to do what he has done because there was always the expectation you would be around. Sitting in the Red Keep, taking care of your children and waiting to him to finally come around.

“Give us the room,” you whisper to Aegon. He leaves in a huff, not happy with you. You walk over and sit on the seat opposite to Aemond's.

The only noise that permeates throughout the room is the crackling of the fire in front of you two.

“It is foolish for you to think they would not harm you, especially now,” he starts to fiddle with his fingers, a tick he has picked up from his mother. “You would in place surrounded by her people… by dragons.”

“She would not hurt me. Not now, she wants my family’s support,” you rebut.

He does not answer right away.

“You would be giving her exactly what she wants. Us apart.”

Us. You two have not been an ‘us’ for quite some time, and Aemond referring to you as that makes you chuckle coldly.

“That’s the point, dear husband,” your eyes drift from him to the burning flames. “You know how your sister is. She wants everything entirely too much, and now she has a guard dog, planning and watching her every move. This just one step in her 'preparing' for the throne, and what may happen if she takes it."

“She is not fit for the throne. Neither of them is,” he says bitterly. “It would cut her up inside and out just like it did my….”

He trails off softly. Viserys was never made to be King, but then again who is. By the time everything falls into place, things will be different.

“So, we let it.”

Your conversation is stopped by Quinton opening the door for Jayne.

"Sorry, my lady but your parents were asking for you," she says softly. You notice how her eyes seem to survey the room. Taking inspection of anything and everything in it. Your parents watched Daella and Alaric for you during dinner. You nod in acknowledgment, but as you get up you notice the necklace she wears.

A gold plaited coin dangling on a dainty gold chain, perfectly matching the earring you found in the tunnel. Your blood runs cold.

"Thank you, Jayne," you stand up slowly as your eyes go to Aemond. You hope he can read something, anything from the look in your eyes. Your eyes travel to the wall where the secret door is. His eye looks at you, then to Jayne, and you watch him swallow and sink back into the chair.

"Ser Quinton, if you do not mind staying," Aemond says softly, going back to staring at the fire. "I have something I need you to tend to."

Quinton gives you a skeptical look, knowing the tense history between him and Aemond but you give him a reassuring smile.

Maybe it is time Quinton proves his unwavering loyalty to you.

“I just need…. to get away,” it was not a complete lie. On top of having things to figure out, you were looking forward to getting away from the Red Keep. Even if it was to Dragonstone of all places.

Your father had giving you a skeptical look when you mentioned going to Dragonstone. You tell him this the perfect time for him to stay in King’s Landing in your stead. You whisper to him to stay close to the Hand and to Prince Aegon. When his resolve still did not chance, you told him about this being an opportunity for Daella to get connected to her ancestral home, and he understood. He always has a soft heart when it comes to his grandchildren.

It was your mother who gave you the most grief about the proposition. She stays in the room after your father has left.

“I do not think it is appropriate you leave your husband,” she sighs. “Especially at a time like this.”

It has always been her concern. Your allegiance to Aemond and in turn to the who she thinks should sit the throne. A part of you wants to tell her the plan. Maybe rub in her face that Aegon wants you.

But you know you would not be met with an impressed gaze or her questioning how your life has come to this place. Instead, she would ask why you haven’t debased yourself for him yet? Why haven’t you jumped at the chance to be in his bed, in his mind, under his skin the way real lovers do. Sometimes you look at Aegon and ask yourself the same questions. The most frustrating part is you know he would take you up on it. Aegon would indulge the most depraved parts of you because those of the ones he likes the most.

Your mother always manages to seep her way into things that should be good for you. It happened moons ago when you first became friends with Helaena. It is how you are in this mess now. Telling her about Aegon before the right time would be fatal. A blow to your plan, and the last remaining pieces of your heart.

“Perhaps he can come with you?”

“The point is to have some time away from each other. He thinks it would do us some good too.” Your spine feels tight as you are painfully aware of your posture in front of her, “The Princess offered, and it would be rude not take her up on it. She is till the heir till otherwise.”

Your mother stares at you for a moment. She scrutinizes every part of your face, the face she gave you wholly. Her only daughter. The person she has invested so much in.

“You always do this,” she starts coldly. “Shrivel up when things do not go your way. You have so much put in front of you, and you do so little with it. Leaving your husband when things are tough? I thought I raised you better than that.”

A lump grows in your throat. You are taken back to your wedding day. Your mother talking you through a panic attack, telling you to think of your future. That not going through with the marriage means throwing away years of work. In the end, you walked down the aisle. You followed through, and now the debt comes due. You are her biggest star, and her gravest disappointment.

Everything she could have had, and nothing she ever was at your age. You know your mother is happy with her position now, later in life. Reaping the benefits of your father’s house, but it was not always like that. There was never an opportunity to be draped in silk or have the ear of the royal family when she was your age.

“When this does not work, I hope you will not go running to your father.”

And with that she gets up and leaves you in the kids’ room.

You flinch when the door slams. As you sit in silence, you wonder if you would have gotten a different response if you told her about Alys. Maybe she would have pulled you into her arms like she did when you were younger. Deep down, you know she would have asked you what you did wrong; what did you do to make Aemond want to find comfort in another woman. Regardless of the pretenses, he still jumped at the first chance he got at something he saw as real. She would see it as a sign of failure on her part. She did not instill the right values in you to keep your husband happy. She has a funny way of flipping everything on its head, and yet you still crave any validation from her.

Your mother is as cruel as she is dutiful. As cold as she is charming. And as calculating as she is hurt and wounded by the world, she grew up in. The more your plan falls into place the more you find solace.

You are your mother’s daughter.

Taglist: @hydrationqueensworld @xkennobi @dc-marvel-girl96 @lyannesworld @msmarvel-19 @tremendouswolfsaladranch @widemiffyhappy @thenovelcarnival @hanihoney88 @kore-of-the-underworld @xoprincessmel @strawbrryquinn @targaryenmoony @blazzlynch @curlszx88 @crazymusicgirl104 @fanfics4ever @anndraco0523 @weepingwitchofthewest @alinagonewlid @signyventia

[lnfours]

PLEASE HEAR ME OUT😭 Nate x facesitting

He’s just drunk on how much more intense the sensations are with ur wet pussy almost directly inside his mouth🥺plus the view and sounds of u enjoying yourself while he tonguefucks u into another dimension😭😭😭💀then eventually begging him to at least slow down because he’s been using ur clit as a pacifier for the past 20 minutes and you’re pretty sure another orgasm will have you passing out😩

anon.. i’m speechless. i truly am dead. i need him. need him so bad.

18+ under the cut.

💌 inbox

nate was the kind of guy to always make sure your needs were fulfilled. in the bedroom and in the most soft, romantic ways possible. wether it was making sure you were drinking enough water, or having you climb on top of him after a bad day, he was always happy to help.

today was no different. he could tell you were stressed, so he wanted to help. when he practically begged you to sit on his face, you obviously couldn’t say no.

now, your legs were shaking on either side of his head, hands gripping the headboard. he had been at this for a solid 20 minutes, trying to help you achieve your third orgasm of the night from his mouth.

you moaned softly, his tongue working wonders, as always, “nate.”

he pulled away, “yeah, baby? feel good?”

you nodded, gasping softly as his tongue slipped inside of you. you moaned loudly, his brown eyes meeting yours. the view was damn near enough for you to come right there.

“c’mon, pretty girl,” he licked a stripe back up to your clit, “come for me.”

you threw your head back, his lips tightening over the bud and sucking. you absentmindedly reached down and threaded your hand through his hair, tugging slightly. he moaned into your pussy, working his tongue faster to get you there.

“so close,” you said breathlessly.

he stuck his tongue out flat, grabbing your hips and rocking them back and forth. you moaned out as his hands came up to tug at your nipples.

“ride my face,” he said, “come on, baby. i’ve got you.”

you did as he told you to, rocking back and forth on his mouth, his nose bumping your clit.

you finally felt the feeling in your stomach, your eyes rolling back as you moaned, “i’m gonna come.”

“come for me, honey,” he said, tongue flicking back to your clit, “c’mon.”

you felt your orgasm take through you and you moaned softly, his hands gripping at your hips to keep you situated on his mouth.

you moved from above his face, his lips and chin glistening in the soft light. you felt the wetness pool between your legs once again just at the sight of you all over his face.

he smirked at you, “feeling better?”

you nodded, “much.”

[princessbrunette]

barry x reader relationship, wether it’s platonic or anything else else is just something so serious to me now, like i can just imagine reader who sees barry angry for the first time and since she’s so used to comforting angry rafe she goes over and gives him one of her sweet little hugs that always clam rafe down, and tells barry not to be sad because he’s her best friend (he always gives her candy and money and is nice to her which automatically makes him her bestfriend much to rafe’s dismay, i don’t make the rules sorry!)

or maybe something in reverse where reader is upset & hiding from rafe (who’s waving her off cs he’s used to her dramatic tantrums and he’ll take care of her in a minute) and barry finds her & listens to her rant and sniffle about the situation, and he’s just mockingly agreeing with her the whole time, like “you’re right doll, he should have let you sit in his lap, that asshole.” & “How fucking dare he let go off your hand? this is bullshit, i honestly can’t believe it.” just riling her up more and more until rafe finally comes to find her and is like “stop encouraging her., please” bc he knows in her little head that barry being on her side and justifying her actions is all the more reason to keep being bratty, but is off too late now. Barry has made her believe she’s right.

“stop encouraging her, please” NAJDJDJD rafe is so tired 😭😭😭

nah but barry is playing a long game, and whilst you’d never leave rafe because you love him too much, you’re happy barry is around to listen when rafe is being dumb. he’s always slipping you some extra money, pressing the notes into your hand telling you “incase country club ain’t lookin’ after you.” and nodding along intently whilst you ramble about how mean rafe was, looking up at you as he rolls his joint to say “now all i’m saying is that if i secured a girl as bad as you? shit, i wouldn’t fumble it like he does. would treat you like a princess, for real.” and like rafe DOES mostly and yk you’re just being silly but it’s nice to have barry affirm you yk???

whenever you show up with rafe, barry is instantly on you, squeezing your cheek all “and how’re you, lil miss? this one treating you good? or am i gonna have to have words with him?” nodding his head towards rafe who’s already rolling his eyes and pulling you to stand at his other side.

and barry is lovely to you !! truly !! you don’t understand why rafe gets so irritated with him !! it’s because what you don’t know, is he’s holding you over rafes head to continue doing a good job pushing his product. he’s all smiles, until you leave the room and then he’s closing in on rafe like “i tell you what, pretty boy — keep fuckin’ with my money and i just might have to show your girl what she’s missin’… you don’t want that, right? yeah, i thought so. sell my shit and get my money.” before walking off, leaving rafe more pissed than ever, vowing to stop bringing you to his meets with barry :(

[hotgirlmav]

Cyrano — Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Female!Reader (18+)

Description: PART 2 OF PARTING GIFT! One night stands were never truly your thing. After passing your college midterms and celebrating at a bar, though, a one night stand ended up being just what you wanted. You picked the hottest naval aviator in the whole building and soon learned that he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him. He was set to deploy the next day, and you just wanted a cheap fix. What better way to ruin the convenience of a one night stand than him getting you pregnant?

Warnings: Explicit language, sexual undertones, abundance of angst, depictions of anxiety, vomit, alcohol, pregnancy, mentions of abortion, brief arguing, mentions of death, bits of fluff, Maverick and Iceman mention because I am WEAK.

Word Count: 4,684.

A/N: IGNORE THE FACT THAT I SAID I WOULD POST THIS LAST NIGHT, I TOOK A NAP THAT TURNED INTO ME SLEEPING FOR FIVE HOURS 😭 I also just wanted to take a quick second to thank you all for the response I received on the first part. The amount of comments, reblogs, and messages I got was just absolutely insane. You all genuinely make writing worth it. You have my heart.

Requests are still open!

From the very moment his words went through the phone and to your ear, you were in a state of panic.

Though it had only been a few days since he told you that he was coming, the thought of Rooster’s arrival left a deep wound right in the center of your chest. Fear had been your closest companion ever since you found out about your pregnancy, and over the past number of days, the dreaded nuisance of the emotion refused to part from you. You woke up with it at your bedside, you traveled with it throughout the day, and despite your attempts being to no prevail, you tried to make your peace with it at night.

While currently standing in front of the mirror in your bedroom, every emotion you had felt since you found out about your pregnancy was amplified.

Fear. Guilt. Sympathy for the baby inside of you. Slight excitement. You knew the situation wasn’t exactly ideal, but you refused to not be at least a little excited over what would end up being your child. You refused to let your baby suffer for what you believed to be your recklessness.

Only thirty minutes prior to your silent session in front of your own reflection, Rooster had informed you that he was quite ready to come get you for dinner. You had no idea as to whether he was very far from your house, very close to it, or even if he remembered where it was. In all fairness, he had only been there once.

Almost like he waited for you to doubt him, the sound of a knock outside the door pierced your ears in a way that might as well have been an explosion. You visibly flinched at the faint sound of his knuckles briefly hitting your front door and cleared your throat, trying to suppress the nausea you felt induced both by your baby and by the father. How fitting.

“Just one second!” You found yourself calling out to him, frantically looking around your bedroom. You rushed out to the living room and began to toss everything around in a way that would make it seem just a bit neater, pure panic coursing through your veins.

It took about a minute more until you raced to the door and sharply inhaled through your mouth, practically holding your breath once you opened the door.

Your heart completely stopped at the sight of him. Tanned, sun-kissed skin practically illuminating under the light provided by the sunset, hair so sandy yet golden. His mustache was very neatly trimmed in a way that told you he must have spent quite a few minutes on it, and for that, you fought the urge to grin.

His hazel eyes scanned you as his full lips curled into a cheeky smile, just before he furrowed his eyebrows. His large hand gripped the doorframe as he met your eyes with his own for a moment, then broke the intense eye contact just a second later, leaning his head inside of the doorway. Due to the fact that he was quite a bit taller than you, it was easy for him to do so.

His eyes scanned the now tidy living room, answering his internal question as to just what took you so long to open the door. The man was still essentially towering over you as he turned his head back to your face, gazing right down at you with furrowed eyebrows.

“You didn’t tidy up this well when I railed you.” He remarked in a way that made you let out a small gasp, earning a genuine chuckle from him when you swatted at his chest. Strangely enough, all of your panic evaporated into thin air once he spoke.

“Since you don’t appreciate my efforts, I shouldn’t have cleaned up at all. I should have made even more of a mess.” You teased him in a light tone, your lips already curling into a grin. With how good he looked, you refused to even try to fight it.

Rooster inhaled sharply, turning his head away from you as his face twisted in playful disappointment.

“Damn, and to think that I made a reservation for us.” He jokingly scoffed, shaking his head. He couldn’t even fight the smile on his face.

Your grin was playfully mischievous. You raised one eyebrow before you sharply inhaled as if to mimic the way he did before, pursing your lips slightly.

“Take one of your other girls. This ship,” you began in a light, yet firm tone as you used your index finger to point back and forth between the pair of you. “Has sailed.”

Rooster let out a chuckle that made your knees want to buckle, further proving to you just how easy it must have been for him to get you into bed that night. What he said next, though, that took the cake.

“I don’t want the other girls. I came here for you.” He told you so matter-of-factly, his tone reeking of casualness as he lifted his hand and momentarily stroked your cheek with his thumb.

From the way you couldn’t even fight the immediate beam that appeared on your face, Rooster let out a soft chuckle that came from deep within his chest. Your eyes rolled as your grin and your shyly flattered expression betrayed you, staring up at him through your eyelashes. You opened your mouth to jokingly insult him, but as your eyes landed on his face, you immediately found yourself stuck. At that moment, everything hit you like a ton of bricks.

The man in front of you was the father of your child.

You had only been considering his part in your pregnancy in a vague, common way, but everything was coming together in the most overwhelming way possible. Even if Rooster decided to have no part in your pregnancy and in the child’s life, your baby was permanently going to be partially made up of the man before you.

Noticing the way you fell silent, Rooster took the opportunity to take your smaller hand in his own, standing up straight. His grin remained intact on his beautiful face, blissfully unaware as to why you just fell silent.

“I will go fully fucking insane if they offer our table to someone else.” He casually chuckled under his breath as he motioned for you to come out, earning a small giggle from you as you did just that. Seeing as you had already been holding your purse, all you needed to do was lock the door.

After doing so, he led you to the quite beautiful Bronco, causing your lips to curl into a grin. You knew it was an older model, but it was taken care of as if it was brand new.

The car ride there went by smoothly. A few jokes were exchanged, your hand was being held, and the heightened part of your libido that came with pregnancy was really kicking your ass. You couldn’t look at the man for more than two seconds without shifting in your seat, causing you to look out of the window almost the entire time.

By the time you two had arrived, your table was perfectly ready for the pair of you. You silently thanked your lucky stars, as you just didn’t need him being even slightly cranky when you informed him of the parting gift he left you just two months prior.

You two sat down with ease and ordered soon after, but that wasn’t without any minor complications.

“Oh, no wine for me, please.” You quickly added once you heard Rooster order a bottle, earning a confused expression from the man. Even with the way your heart was skipping a beat, you still couldn’t bring yourself to make eye contact with him. His furrowed eyebrows and his broad shoulders under his open Hawaiian shirt just made you excited, and that was not an issue you wanted to deal with.

“Cramps.” You quickly excused yourself to aid his confusion, earning a look of understanding and a nod. Silently, you thanked yourself for the fact that Rooster was just another brainless man. You had to both love him and hate him for it.

Once you ordered your drink of choice and the server left, you tilted your head and sat back in your seat. You watched him sip the complimentary water that was given to you both, causing you to press your legs together under the table. You knew that if you didn’t break the silence, you’d just pounce on him.

“Are you going to tell me your name, or am I going to keep having to call you Rooster?” You questioned in a light tone, your lips curling into a soft smile as he chuckled at your question.

“It’s Bradley. Bradley Bradshaw, Rooster is my callsign.” He informed you in a low tone, raising his eyebrows slightly as you began to rub his leg with your own under the table.

“Wait.” You immediately stopped, furrowing your eyebrows. “Bradley Bradshaw…? Brad Brad?”

Seeing that you were fighting the urge to laugh, the man couldn’t even resist a chuckle of his own and shot you a warning glare. “Don’t even start.”

You let a soft giggle escape your lips as you gazed over at him mindlessly, tilting your head. It was almost as if you completely forgot what you had to tell him.

“You don’t even know my name.” You told him with a playful huff, immediately reaching for the complimentary bread that was just begging to be eaten.

“Sure I do.” He responded, reaching for a piece of the bread at the exact same time.

“Yeah?” You challenged him with an amused expression. “What is it?”

Like clockwork, there was a cheeky little grin on his face as he popped a piece of the bread into his mouth. His eyebrows furrowed as a way to fake concern for you. “Why, you don’t know your own name?”

You couldn’t help but let out a genuine laugh at his response, shaking your head as his chuckle matched your own. “Asshole.”

After a few moments, your food arrived, and your thoughts began to remind you of just what was going on.

You were pregnant. Waiting any longer to tell the man wouldn’t have made any sense. He was sitting right in front of you, and God only knew when the next time that would happen would be.

Your eyes glossed over the man as he shoveled bites of food into his mouth, your head tilting to the side as your eyes furrowed slightly. Not even noticing the fact that your eyes were glued to his face, he spoke in between bites.

“I haven’t eaten since I landed. Don’t mind me eating this like I'm scared of it walking away.” He casually remarked, his lips curling into a grin as he wiped them with his napkin once he heard the sound of your light giggle.

It was no wonder why you even brought him home to begin with. He was charming, he was witty, he was funny, he was insanely attractive; Rooster truly was a million dollar man with the smile to match. Though it would just pain you to admit it, in the deepest recesses of your heart, you were glad that he was the partner you were given in such a tricky situation.

“No, no, don’t worry.” You attempted to reassure him, silently hoping that his remark wasn’t made out of any discomfort. “I’m just admiring you.”

Had the lighting in there not been so dim, you would have realized just how shyly Rooster grinned at your words. His body was slightly tense from the light form of flattery that you bestowed on him, proving to him that he truly did like you. Something about you just seemed so— different. So special.

Dinner went by smoothly. An incessant amount of flirting took place at that table, fueling your devious little crush on him. Had you not been haunted by the fact that you were carrying his baby and he was still yet to know, you wouldn’t have even considered not taking him home with you.

You two were just absolutely smitten with each other.

The ride home, though, was absolutely painful. Your chest felt very tight from the fact that you still hadn’t told him, and the warmth from his hand on your thigh could only hold you over for so long. Before you knew it, you were home. The opportunity was slipping through your fingertips.

The car came to a halt in front of your house, both relief and guilt washing over your body as it did so. Though you truly did come to love the feeling of being with Rooster, you missed a warmth from your home that even the sun could not provide. Had you not felt guilty about the fact that you still hadn’t told Rooster about the fact that you were about to be the mother of his child, being right outside of it would have drowned you in pure euphoria.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to throw the words over at him like a game of catch, but for the most aggravating reason in the world, you couldn’t. Your hand was finding its way to the door handle, despite the fact that you were silently screaming at yourself to spit it out.

Almost like he could hear you, you felt a large, warm hand gently grip yours before he pulled you over. Luckily, you had just taken your seatbelt off, so there would have been nothing to restrain you when you leaned over per his physical request.

Before you knew it, the warmest and most perfect pair of lips were pressed to yours, causing your heart to just melt inside of your chest. You lifted one of your hands and slowly pushed your fingers into his sandy blonde hair as his lips danced with yours, your eyes threatening to fill with tears. You just couldn’t fathom that being the last time you kissed him. That very well could have been the last good moment you two shared as people who liked one another, and not just as co-parents.

“What’s the matter, pretty girl?” He quietly asked with a playful grin once he detached his lips from yours, the volume of his voice mirroring the way it sounded the morning you last saw him. His long fingers were now gently massaging the very back of your scalp, your eyebrows furrowing at just how good it felt. He let out a small chuckle at your expression and pressed yet another peck to the very corner of your lips, small strands of hair from his mustache slightly tickling your skin. “Thought I’d just let you leave without giving me a kiss?”

Just like that, you felt a bolt of electricity shoot throughout your body. People all around the world walked across hot coals, went skydiving, and rode rollercoasters to replicate the adrenaline that just consumed you. For you, all it took was a small kiss from Rooster.

“Bradley, I’m pregnant.”

Silence. Pure silence.

The second the words hit the air, some might as well have dropped a bomb in the middle of the street. You wasted no time in retracting back to the passenger seat, studying the look of shock and confusion on his face.

“I know it’s confusing, I know you’re shocked. Trust me, I wasn’t exactly relieved and jumping for joy when I found out. I guess we were just too drunk to use protection, but—”

“It’s mine?” He cut you off in complete and utter surprise, his face looking awfully pale. Suddenly, your body was filled to the brim with rage.

“Who the fuck else’s would it be?” You couldn’t help but scoff, your eyebrows furrowing. You couldn’t stand the look of shock on his face. Being shocked about the baby, you understood, but being shocked that it was his? That is how he thought of you?

Rooster clearly did not enjoy your tone. He shot you a small glare as your sudden aggression filled the air, taking his keys out of the ignition. “Don’t do that. Don’t give me attitude; I have every damn right to be surprised.”

As much as you wanted to argue back, you knew that he was right. He truly did have every excuse to be surprised. Seeing as you essentially collapsed upon finding out, he was taking the news much better than you did.

“Why don’t you come inside?” You asked him in a very soft tone, earning another glance from him that made you want to implode. “I can make tea and we can talk about it.”

The silence that filled the air was deafening. At that moment, you just wanted to be completely sucked into the ground. You didn’t know if he was just going to shun you and send you on your merry way, but whatever it was, you wished he would just speak.

Very suddenly, he took his own seatbelt off and opened the door, getting out of the car. Before you could even think to open your own, he did it for you.

Even in his state of shock, he was a gentleman.

You pressed your lips together as if you were scared of what would come out if you didn’t. Your heart was pounding out of your chest as you offered him a small form of gratitude for helping you out of the car, quickly retrieving the key to your house from your purse. The sound of crickets filled the night, and the scent in the air signified that it would rain soon. You usually loved smelling it when the rain was on its way, but at that moment, you felt smothered by it.

After unlocking your door with your key, you stepped inside and immediately rid yourself of your shoes, not being able to suppress the small grunt of relief when your feet were free. You were only two months along in your pregnancy, but the small heels you wore to pair with your black dress made you want to chop your feet clean off.

You tossed your keys into the bowl you had tastefully placed on an end table next to the door, rubbing your own shoulder as you heard the sound of Rooster closing and locking the door. He took his time in removing his boots, figuring you taking your shoes off was just a house rule. Had you had just a moment to recognize what he did, you would have sobbed about how sweet he was and begun to unzip his jeans.

“Which kind of tea would you like?” You asked in a soft tone as you made your way to your kitchen, feeling the presence of the aviator behind you.

“Whatever you have is fine.” He told you in a way that was not exactly cold, but certainly not warm. Regardless of that, you opened one of the cabinets and took a small box outside of it, setting it on the countertop. Once you turned to fill the kettle with water, you furrowed your eyebrows at the fact that it was missing from the stove eye it usually rested on.

Your head turned once the sound of running water hit your ears, and your lips parted at the sight.

While you were getting the box full of teabags, Rooster took it upon himself to prepare the kettle.

You didn’t have to ask, you didn't request that of him. Hell, you didn’t even expect it from him. To be quite technical, you served no greater significance to him than a woman whom he had a one-night-stand with.

Well— aside from the fact that you were about to be the mother of his children, but still.

In your house, doing his part in an action that you offered to perform, he assisted you in making tea. He wanted to. He wasn’t asked to, nor was he forced. He just— wanted to.

You knew the action was minuscule, and you knew that taking it as seriously as you were was foolish. You knew that the way tears began to fill your eyes was a bit extreme, but you were hormonal, goddamn it. In your pregnant mind, this was quite literally the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you in your entire life.

The symbolism of it all was what made you ache like no other. After spending what felt like ages in complete and utter fear of how Rooster would react to your pregnancy, the small action of preparing the kettle washed it all away like a wave crashing onto the shore. You were almost certain that the man would run out on you, or that he would simply refuse to take responsibility for his part in the situation. You knew it was wrong to assume that about a man you hardly knew, but you couldn’t refrain from fearing the worst.

The second you saw him with that kettle, though, everything changed.

He showed up for you. He was there for you, and you didn’t even have to ask him to be. Deep down, you wanted to laugh at yourself for making something as simple as filling a kettle with water and putting it on the stove into such a profound sentiment. Despite wanting to do so, you could not bring yourself to it. Just from the way he was there for you in the moment, you knew he would be there for you in the long haul.

Both of you.

“My dad died when I was still pretty young.” He broke the silence as he placed the kettle back onto the stove eye, turning it onto a high setting after doing so. He didn’t dare to look you in the eye. He refused to let you see the pain in his, and he was petrified of seeing whatever was in yours.

Your face fell at his abrupt confession, your heart now twisting in guilt as you blurted out the first thing you thought. “How old were you?”

“Two.” He responded almost immediately, his hands resting on the edges of the countertop as he leaned his head down slightly. From the way he was standing, his back looked incredibly broad, as did his shoulders. You knew the timing was awful, but the fact that you could see the slight curvature of his back muscles through his not-so-thin sweater made your mouth water. You were glad he wasn’t able to see the way you were devouring him with your eyes.

Immediately feeling guilty for the way you were lusting over a grieving man, you deeply inhaled and decided to carry the discussion a bit further. You knew that him bringing up such a topic was to slightly cover the topic of how little he knew about fatherhood, so you decided to push. “Did you have a father figure?”

“I guess, yeah.” He responded in a low tone, clearing his throat as he stood up straight. Practically feeling Carole scold him for his impoliteness, he finally turned his body to face you and leaned back against the counter very slightly. “My Uncle Tom was around as much as he could be. It was mainly my Uncle P—”

He fell silent rather abruptly, causing you to furrow your eyebrows. Before you could question it, he finished the sentence that formerly hung in the air. “Maverick. My dad’s old friend, he was flying when my dad died.”

Your eyebrows raised at his last statement. His words seemed to hold quite a bit of weight, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t curious as to why that was. You knew that pushing the topic even further would result in something neither of you would like. “And your mother?”

“Died two years ago.” He responded to you in a cool, casual tone. The fact that you brought her up after she had just crossed his mind was too ironic for him to laugh at it.

Immediately, the corners of your lips curved downward into a frown. Despite his collected posterior, you knew that the man in front of you was nothing short of haunted. With two deceased parents and an estranged uncle that formerly served as a father figure, Bradley harbored emotional trauma that would make even the strongest people wince. No one deserved that. Least of all, him.

At least he had an Uncle Tom, though, right? He seemed nice. Everyone loves Uncle Tom.

You took a deep breath as you found yourself shuffling over to the taller pilot, his gaze now tiredly placed on yours. Both of you saw what the other was trying to hide. His pain, your fear; once they were formally acquainted with one another, they disappeared. Your arms snaked around his torso before you simply laid your head on his chest, your eyelids slowly falling shut.

The warmth from his body almost completely consumed you. Rooster wrapped both of his rather strong arms around you without so much as one word. The two of you stood in each other’s arms silently, both silently scared and comforted by the fact that only you two could understand what the other was going through. It was your first embrace not as just soon-to-be parents, but as two people who cared about one another. The baby that was growing in your belly essentially acted as a Cyrano, forcing and tricking you two to realize that you were meant to be more for one another than you formerly realized.

“I don’t know how I’ll do it.” You took it upon yourself to breathe the silence with a whisper, your eyes still closed as you listened to the melancholic sound of his heartbeat mixed with the faint sound of the kettle.

“We’ll just have to figure it out, I guess.” Rooster muttered lowly to you in a way that made your heart melt, crack, drop, and burst all at the same time.

You furrowed your eyebrows in pure awe of his words. You had never felt so held by someone in your life, both physically and metaphorically. You lifted your head from his chest and looked up at the man, your desperately relieved eyes meeting his. “We will?”

“I don’t know if you know this, but I don’t think we have a choice.” Rooster teased you in a way that made you let out such a warm giggle, the grin forming on his face turning such a scary moment into something of pure beauty.

“Thank you so much, Bradley.” You abruptly whispered to him, your eyes still wondrously peering into his as you did so. “Thank you for being this nice about all of this, I— I was so scared of how you’d react. I’ve been doing nothing but panicking since I found out.”

Your voice began to tremble midway through your sentence as the sheer horror and exhaustion that you had undergone since finding out began to flash throughout your mind. You couldn’t fight the tear that fell out of your eye as you spoke, and Rooster immediately took note of it.

Before he could do anything, however, the sound of the kettle whistling to indicate that it was ready startled both of you. The pair of you looked over at the same time before you let out a soft laugh at how it tore the moment to shreds, watching Rooster simply turn the stove off. He returned to his prior position and instantly wrapped his arms around you just as he did before, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head once you laid it on his chest again.

The words he whispered to you would be engrained in your memory for the rest of your life. Any time the trials and tribulations of motherhood threatened your peace and your sanity, his words came back to you like a moth to a flame, calming you down completely.

“You don’t need to panic, pretty girl. I’m here.”

Yes.

Yes, he was.

TAGS:

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[fatuismooches]

HAIIIII... I'm so crazy rn I need to give Dottore SO MUCH AFFECTION...

I need to KISS HIM SO MUCH!!! all over his face.... I need to give all the segments so many kisses. Just absolutely SMOTHERING them in love and affection. ITS WHAT HE DESERVES!!!!! he's a silly lil pookie bear (He would be so confused if I uttered that nesr him)

Uagughdbidib imagine a reader who will constantly call him cute petnames like "snugglebear" and "cutie" 😭😭😭

like Webttore will walk in and then reader will be by his side in RECORD TIME giving him affection (any fatuus who are nearby are to ignore the scene completely, or they get killed)

Reader who gives Omega kisses on his lil red gem eye <3 and loves to snuggle against him (even if he is busy. reader CANNOT be stopped. It probably fuels his ego tbh)

AND OG DOTTIE!!!!!!! he gets SO MANY KISSES.. and so much love. He is DROWNING in readers affection.

I need to give them all so much love.... I am clawing at the floor violently. - 🐓

Most people are unsure of how someone as affectionate and doting as you managed to get with the Harbinger who seems to be averse to touch and love. However, mysteriously enough it seems that Prime and the segments are used to your antics... Well, no matter how much the poor agents question it, all they can do is keep their heads down as they file out of the room speedily once you start to get a bit too handsy with their Lord Harbinger.

Webby relishes your attention and kisses, often times he has to deal with situations that he lacks the patience for, unlike his older selves... so being able to huff and complain in your arms is most definitely something he looks forward to. Even if it's not physical affection, he talks a lot and it pleases him to have someone to listen, who will genuinely listen, unlike the agents. (Poor Krupp, he's had to deal with you stealing away his Lord's attention far too many times and has suffered the consequences.)

Omega is far too composed to give you the reaction you want (you think you're in control by how lenient he is, meanwhile he has the situation in the palm of his hands) but you probably don't care too much, so long as he lets you continue your very important work (giving him kisses.) You've probably done some experiments with his mechanical area too... can it overheat? Does it have fans?! Will he flinch if you randomly blow on the area? Is that glowing gem of his sensitive? You need to know this. All while you're snuggled into him while he does work, entertaining your nonsense. Truly the efficiency meant for a segment.

The Akademiya segment is not interested in being part of your little experiment... he is actually busy, unlike you, and has far better things to do with his time, he says as if he doesn't miss you if you're gone for too long. Chastising you in his own way, just give him the kisses.

Prime Dottore is tired, old, overworked, sleep-deprived, does not have time to receive your affection (as he claims) but that's all the more reason to give it to him!! You just gotta get creative! Is he trying to pour something? He gets many kisses on the cheek as he can't swat you away... Is he intensely focused on writing something? Your cue to hug him from behind and watch as the pen snaps in half.

Dottore doesn't really appreciate you calling him a... "pookie bear" (he continues to be amazed and irritated at the incompatible combination of words that seem to slip out like second nature) but what is he going to do? (Probably ignore you and kick you out but that happens regardless anyway.)

[alohajun]

HIIIII i'm coming back again to request bcos i really REALLY missed reading treasure fics hehe (your blog is one of my faves btw! ♡)

anyways, i just had this idea for a scenario when i saw 0104's pics on han river recently!! can i request a haruto scenario wherein you are hanging out with the 0104 guys (OR MAYBE EVEN T5) and bf!haruto just kinda got a little jealous when you give him no attention because jeongwoo/junghwan just entertains you so much and you give them all the attention becayse they're like dongsaengs to you??? TT

their bond really makes me cry they truly are the cutest <3 ANYWAY no pressure on this!! stay safe!!!!!!

♡ I’M NOT JEALOUS! — WATANABE HARUTO

bf!haruto x fem!reader | wc : 0.7k words | content : possible grammar and spelling mistakes, lowercase intended, established relationship, fluff, mild angst, playful teasing, jealousy | loki's lines : this one was long overdue, i'm sorry 😭

“jealous? me? pfft. never. what would i be jealous about?”

watanabe haruto shook his head as you raised your brows, challenging him to confess his true feelings.

while you were at the han river, you tried teaching jeongwoo how to ride a bike, since the younger had confided in you, letting you know he didn’t know how.

but your biking lessons seemed to be disturbed by your boyfriend, haruto.

the raven-haired male was stuck to your side like glue, making it impossible to teach his best friend.

“ruto, seriously. get it together.” you smiled, amused by his behavior. “i was just teaching him how to ride a bike. why are you being jealous?”

“shut up, i’m not jealous!”

“oh, you’re so jealous.”

haruto frowned. “am not!” he shook his head. “i’m not jealous; i’m being absolutely reasonable,” he explained, making you burst into a fit of giggles.

“no, you are not!” you laughed, shaking your head. “this isn't reasonable at all.”

“stop laughing!” haruto whined, brows furrowed in annoyance. “so what if i'm jealous? what then, huh?!”

you smiled. “really, ruto? are you jealous? of jeongwoo? seriously?” you asked, your voice was quiet as you spoke.

“maybe i am a little jealous, okay? honestly, though, who wouldn’t be?”

“jealousy doesn’t suit you, my love. don't fret your pretty head over all this.”

haruto sighed, covering his face in embarrassment as he thought over the situation he got himself into.

he never meant to get jealous like this. he knew you were just helping jeongwoo, but he couldn't help the way he felt.

haruto trusted you both, but when you took this much care of jeongwoo, haruto couldn't help but feel jealous of the attention his best friend received from you.

“gosh, i never would have thought i’d ever be jealous about things like this,” he grumbled under his breath, shaking his head. “you must think i’m stupid, huh?”

you nodded, giggling at the way your boyfriend’s face fell. “you are stupid. stupid, because i can’t believe you don’t know how much i love you.” you smiled widely.

“really? you mean that?” he asked, confused.

“hey, look at me.” you held his face in your hands. “i’m yours, and no one can change that, okay? i love you, not anyone else. you.”

“i love you, y/n.” haruto smiled, leaning closer as he placed his lips against yours. “thank you for making me feel better.”

before you could respond, jeongwoo’s voice grabbed the attention of you two, and you turned towards him as you watched him ride his bicycle around in circles.

“look, y/n! ruto!” he yelled, excited. “i’m riding a bike!”

the two of you exchanged proud looks, excitedly cheering in unison as you watched the younger male do his first solo bike ride.

jaehyuk and asahi watched you all from the sides, glad you two talked it out and everything was back to normal.

they were worried when you dragged haruto to the side, having noted the male’s odd behavior, but seeing you two in big smiles assured them everything was fine.

“i never knew haruto was the jealous type,” jaehyuk admitted, amused. “that too, jealous of jeongwoo.”

asahi shrugged. “eh, there are days where you crave more affection than the rest. today was one of those days for haruto,” he explained.

“i’m glad they sorted it out, though.”

“yeah, me too.”

jeongwoo biked towards the couple, beaming as he looked at you. “y/n, you wanna race? i think i can beat you,” he challenged, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“oh, like heck you can! i literally taught you how to ride a bike.” you scoffed, grabbing your bike and sitting on it. “you think you can outdo the master?!”

“i don’t think i can beat you. i know i can!”

“you are so on, park jeongwoo!”

haruto stared between the two of you, shaking his head with a smile. “now, what happened to the conversation we were just having?” he asked, pretending to be upset.

you bit back a smile. “woo is like my brother, ruto. you are my boyfriend.” you shrugged. “bros before hoes, dude!” you announced, pedaling away with jeongwoo as fast as you could.

watanabe haruto stood in his spot, shell-shocked, as he watched his girlfriend and best friend laugh at his expressions. he placed his hands on his hips, shaking his head as he looked at them.

“this is outrageous, y/n! i demand more attention! you said you love me!”

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[rottin6]

layla beloved your frat initiation bartylily chasing-in-the-woods concept is something that i think about…. so frequently. haunts me. i don’t even need you write it atp i just need more THOUGHTS 😭

stopppp it i'm giggling at the thought of them 'cause they're so nasty @sommerregenjuniluft is wholly partly to blame

like picture it, frat boy barty daddy issues barty n trust fund barty all in one, like my guy has issues on top of issues. he's made to go to uni by his dad and (idk how frats work i am british) he's in his third and final year of his degree, and he's the president of the frat obviously cause so was his dad and so was his dad and so on

lily, however, loathes him. she thinks the absolute worst of him but she's never even spoken to him. she just hates what he comes from and all that stuff. she's doing a journalism degree and writes for the college paper, like she's on her grind trying to get through uni

one day lily gets some inside scoop that barty's frat is hosting an initiation ritual that apparently happens every night but no one actually knows what goes down so she makes it her mission to get in so she can publish it in the paper and ruin his image and all that jazz

AND THEN she gets there the night of the ritual and barty sees her and he knows who she is cause she hates him that much and and the ritual basically

the existing frat boys are recruiting the new year boys and as part of the initiation they get chased in the woods and the older years wear masks n shit and it’s fucked up in every sense, like they get their chase and it’s perverted and just so…barty if that makes sense

but it’s just an initiation for the boys, no one else at all so lily has to sneak in and she thinks she’s all slick hiding behind trees n stuff but then

barty creeps up behind her, an ache in the pit of his stomach. even in the night, he hates how he can recognise her by her stupid red hair. there’s an animalistic urge to pull on it, to yank her back into him, but instead he snakes his arm around her throat, his bicep pressing on her pulse. his other hand covers her mouth and he can feel the way her body shakes, how it squirms against him, and he tuts, shaking his head.

now obviously lily fights back, she hits her head back into his face and his lip’s bleeding and all but my barty’s huge, like this guy is built so he’s stronger than her and he’s had enough—he tightens his hold on her, pinning her against the tree and he’s pissed as fuck. he’s pressing his body against hers so she can’t move, also holding her by her throat cause he likes the feel of her panicking and how she gulps. he’s grinning like a madman, wiping the blood off his lip with his thumb and he’s all like “you can’t come and not play the game, doll.” and she’s crying, shaking her head and she’s begging him to stop but but

he lifts a leg up, pushing his knee on her stomach and he begins to undo his belt with one hand, the other stroking the side of her face. it’d be romantic in any other situation if not for the fact that lily thinks she’s well and truly going to die. he spits on the ground to the side of them, his thick cock pulsing at the sight of her tears. he relishes in the view, at her lips quivering and the way she still begs him to stop. it’s cute, he thinks.

and then at some other point

“are you—are you getting off on this?” barty snickers, his fingers trailing across the dampness on her panties. he watches the way she closes her eyes tight, her lips parting slightly. “you’re a sick bitch, y’know that, doll? a pretty fuckin whore, coming out here, thinkin’—thinkin’ you can just do what you want, hm?”

but she still struggles against him, trying to fight cause that’s just lily evans but he’s licking his lips, shaking his head and the next thing she knows is he’s taking out a gun from the waistband of his jeans, he’s got it to the bottom of her chin, murmuring, “i really wish you wouldn’t do that,” but she doesn’t care, she tries to wriggle out of his hold and he tightens his grip on her, moving the gun to her forehead, “don’t fuckin move. you move and i’ll fuckin shoot you, okay? you got it?”

“barty, please...” lily pleads with him, as he yanks her by her hair.

“barty, please,” he mocks. “jesus, you're fucking pathetic. you’re lucky that i haven't put a bullet in that pretty fucking skull of yours yet.”

and at some point she’s running again, after kicking him in the groin obviously and he’s chasing after her, he’s in love with the chase, getting so high off it and then he’s tackling her to the ground, mud over the both of them. he’s on top of her, gripping her by both her dimples and pushing her face down into the ground

“i know the shit you say about me, what you write about me in that—in that little paper of yours.” he’s breathing heavily, pulling the zipper down on his jeans as he mounts over her. “i should kill you right now,” he whispers heavily against her ear. “but that's not what you want, is it? you want me to fuck you, right here on the dirty fucking ground, don’t you?” he smiles, demented. and he moves the gun down to her mouth. "just a dirty little whore that wants to get filled with dick, right?"

and then they have hot steamy sex in the middle of the woods 🏌🏽‍♀️

[hopefulromances]

Hi it’s the person from number 5 again!! LOL

24 had me thinking of Jamie bc he’s such a “would you love me if I was a worm” at 1 am boy😭 like bby I would build you a worm size soccer pitch but go to bed

LMAO I LOVE THISs

24. “Are you awake or asleep?”

Your eyes were closed, Jamie's arm wrapped tightly around your waist, keeping you pressed against his body. He was keeping you warm, which was nice as you tended to run cold. You and Jamie had stayed up late and after several rounds of satisfying sex, you were both properly exhausted.

After a shower, which lead to another quickie, you both were ready for a good nights rest, or so you thought.

"Pst... babe." Jamie shook you gently. "Are you awake or asleep?"

You let your eyes blink open, looking at the clock. 1:00AM.

"Mmm, I'm still awake?" You grumbled back to him. "Is everything, alright?"

You felt Jamie's finger, drawing shapes on your hip, a nervous tick of his.

"Oh, yeah, I was just...wonderin'"

He was being cagey. A tell tale sign that he was having some anxiety. You rolled over to face him, giving him your full attention, and intertwining your fingers with his.

"What's going on, baby," You murmur back to him.

He bit his lip and looked down. "I was just wonderin'... would you love me if I was a worm?"

You stilled. What the fuck.

"Jamie, what the fuck?"

He frowned, his lips pouting in a way that was too cute for someone you were mad at. "Well! If I was a worm, I wouldn't be able to play football, would I? So, like, would you still love me?"

You brought your hands up to cup his face, looking him deep in his eyes.

"Baby, if you were a worm, I'd build you a little worm-sized pitch," You told him, shaking his head a little as you spoke. "But please, go to sleep."

You went to roll over and go back to sleep but Jamie grabbed you.

"So... you would still love me," He checked, still refusing to meet your gaze.

You realized that he was truly worried about the situation. You let out a breathy laugh and kissed his adorable pouty lips.

"Yes, Jamie, I would still love you," You assured him, a kind smile on you face.

He smiled at that rolled over. You wrapped your arms around him, and rested your head on his cheek. He might be an anxious little thing, but he was your anxious little thing.

[anqelically-archived]

being extremely flirty headcanons

featuring…! tetcho suehiro

content: no manga spoilers, just mentions of the 5th hunting dog without their name, fluff

navigation | bsd masterlist

constantly flirting with tetcho… i hate to say it, but you’d probably regret it. this man will usually not take the hint and misunderstands what you’re trying to say, or takes it too seriously 😭

“you scraped your knees because you fell for me?” tetcho repeated. he gently grabbed your wrist, “let’s get that cleaned up, then.”

cue you both being annoyed, but also in awe of how kind he was. then it hits you that he’s truly an idiot because you were in uniform, and your pants weren’t messed up at all.

he sincerely wants to understand what you say most of the time, so he’ll go to someone else that’s around. a personal hc, but he often goes to jouno

jouno, being who he is, tells tetcho to figure it out himself. it’s for his entertainment, really. he gets to watch tetcho try to figure it out and you agonize over the fact that he can’t understand that you’re hitting on him

the fact that he does this amuses teruko greatly, as well as fukuchi but not as much. our final hunting dog? well, they sort of pity you because how tetcho doesn’t understand

if you’re the type to flirt more physically, tetcho literally lets you because he just thinks you’re like that… and it also doesn’t really bother him

if you let your fingers linger on his arms longer or sit closer to him than anyone else would, he’d assume that you liked physical touch with anyone more than anything

“so,” you gripped tetcho’s arm with your hands, fingers trailing down his well-defined biceps, “want to go out for lunch? i know a place you’d love.”

you guys had just finished training, the smell of sweat lingering inside of the room. you wanted to grab the opportunity to ask tetcho before you guys headed for the showers.

“i don’t mind,” he replied. he patted your head, “i’ll be sure to ask the others too for you.”

he was about to walk away when you grabbed his arm. you told tetcho that you wanted it to just be the two of you, but he thought that if you knew a place with good food, you might as well just bring everyone along to try.

“just- yeah, whatever,” you exhaled to prevent yourself from getting even more frustrated. “tell me if they’re coming when you finish.”

you knew it was coming, but all the frustration finally came to light one day. even if it was for a day, you laid off in trying to flirt with tetcho. he took notice and immediately knew something was wrong

he’d ask anyone nearby if they noticed that you were off today, but they would say they didn’t. after all, you were only acting differently around tetcho

you should hope that tetcho doesn’t go ask teruko for help in this situation. i can imagine her taking advantage of it and setting him up to turn things around between the two of you. it’s fun for her to mess with people, so don’t be surprised

you’re walking the halls of military headquarters when you suddenly sense an incoming presence. before you could even grip the handle of your blade, a hand holds your wrist back. long, slim fingers slide down slightly, loosening its grip against you.

turning around, you are met with tetcho. his hat was off, so his hair appeared a bit more scattered than it usually did. you liked it like that, nothing resting on top of his head.

“tetcho?” you asked. “what’s wro-“

you’re taken aback by his sudden movement. tetcho let your wrist go before he caged you between his body and the wall. you could only look between his arms in shock.

‘a-am i dreaming?’

“if you want to confess your love for me, just say it normally. there’s no shame in that,” you joke. although you’ve definitely thought of this scenario before, you weren’t expecting it now.

his head, which was facing down, goes up to face you. he looks at you with eyes so serious that your heart skips a beat. you didn’t know what he would say, and a small part of you feared that it wouldn’t be good.

“what’s wrong with you?” tetcho asked.

you could only look at him confused, “what’s wrong with me? what’s wrong with you? grabbing my wrist like that- then there’s this… you’re the one acting odder than usual.”

“i’m acting odd? i’m just asking you,” he retorted, equally confused. you could tell by the innocent tilt of his head.

“then why did you have to ask in such a dramatic way…?”

“oh, teruko-san told me to do this. she said it was the best way to get you to answer. i won’t let you go until you do, y/n-san.”

“and what will you do if i don’t answer?” you gave him attitude. “what, you’ll kiss me?”

he inched closer to you, “if that’s what it takes, yes.”

in the end, both of you happen to get what you want 🤭

note: i’m not sure what format you wanted this in, so i decided to do headcanons and drabbles 🙏🏻 but thank you sm for requesting! i love tetcho and think we need more work about him. request is here

reblogs are appreciated <3

[min-hoax]

Thank you for fools paradise drabble 🥰. I am not sure if you are taking requests? It’s 100% up to you if you want to bcs it’s your blog, but would it be possible to get an angel mask drabble, maybe on their wedding day?

Babe, you read my mind! I honestly miss writing for Angel Mask even tho I have struggled with writers block for what has seemed like two years! 😭😭😔

Here you go. I hope you enjoy :) It’s waAy past my bedtime so please ignore words that don’t make sense! 😭

till death do us…

Pairing: Angel Mask Yoongi x F! Reader

Warning(s): At the end (present day), mentions of kidnapping, mob business/situation, insinuated sexc time (but NO SMUT I RPOMISE),

It was always that little cold cold heart of his that beat incredibly fast, only for you.

His hands were clammy and he swore that if he looked in the mirror, he'd see droplets of perspiration dotted on the crown of his head.

The day he never thought would happen was at the tip of his hands, filled with love and pride as he watched you walk his way, a bouquet held tight in your hands, in your lower belly as you smiled so brightly, illuminating the room with what only he could describe as pure happiness.

Jungkook was at your side, leading you to the altar and to Yoongis’ awaiting hand. He’d seen you cry weeks before, wrapping you in his arms at the fact that your father was not present - or alive to walk you down the aisle. But when Yoongi offered to ask Jungkook, you nodded, and Jungkook didn’t hesitate to do as was asked of him.

And truly, Yoongi thanked him, hugging him with might as he had made you so happy to oblige. There was a part of him that felt… ashamed for the undisclosed transgression that he had done years before. Your tears always debilitated him, but like always, the other part of him - the immoral man that stood before you, simply was apathetic, selfishly keeping you to his side.

He never thought he’d live long enough to fall and love and marry the love of his life, but the day was here, his whole world walking towards him.

And it was just as you wished. A small get together with trusted business partners, and close family members.

Yoongi looked at you and only you, deciding to place his hate for his parents at the back of his mind because they didn't matter. They never have. He had plans of course, that even though Jungkook was at your side, he stayed with the thought of asking his own father to accompany you down the isle.

But his parents didn’t agree and didn’t show.

All for marrying you.

They too had plans; for Yoongi to marry into a family that wasn’t much different from theirs, criminals with blood money, running and never safe. Yoongi declined. The second he saw you, you were marked as his.

“Hello, Mrs. Min.” Yoongi whispered teasingly, your hand pressing tightly against his. He could see you were nervous from that little quirk that came from your furrowed brow, but yet you smiled, huffing a small hi his way.

“You may kiss the bride.”

And hell, like he’d have to be told twice. With vigorous want, he cupped your cheeks in his pale hands, locking your lips together that placed the last nail on the coffin. You were now his wife in the underground hellhole he resided - but no, he’d taken his own word that he’d never drag you down and involve you in anything that had to do with the risks of his position.

In a few years, he’ll retire and hand the reigns to his trusted partner, the doe eyed innocent looking man, who had absolutely nothing of innocence inside. Jungkook would be a good leader, after all, Yoongi raised him and taught the man everything he knew.

And hopefully, after he retired, you’d have a family of your own - a child or two, living life at peace until you were frail and grey.

“I’m so happy.” You voiced, your head on his chest as you both swayed to the music, your first dance as husband and wife.

Though you didn’t smile, he could see it in your eyes, gleaming with contentment. Yoongi smiled. This was all he ever wanted. “I love you.” He said, pecking your cheek, and your lips, causing you to chuckle.

“I love you too. So much, you have no idea.”

He did.

He loved you to an extent that had no measure and he knew that by your side, it was a euphoria that he couldn’t explain or comprehend.

“What do you say… that we kick everyone out, and we get started on our honeymoon, hm?” Your laugh was otherworldly, your head thrown back at the sight of your husband’s eyebrows playfully jumping up and down.

“Whatever you say, Mr. Min.”

“No, honey. It’s whatever you say.”

PRESENT DAY:

Yoongi smiled with sadness at the picture on his desk, gently bouncing Myunghee on his lap as she scuffled, wanting to cry.

The photo depicted the both of you, your white dress flowing on your body as he carried you on his back, your legs wrapped around his waist with a humorous expression on your face.

He no longer saw that light - that innocence and happiness in your eyes.

He had washed it all away.

“Shhh, sweetheart.” With a peck he wrapped a hand on her raven hair, maneuvering her tiny body in his chest to make her comfortable.

"Mommy's fine. I promise. She just needs more time to adjust. I promise, as soon as she’s out of that room, we’ll be a happy family. Just like how we talked about. How do you feel about being a big sister, hm? I love you so so so much.”

What did you think? He had never taken words too light. When you voiced your never ending love for him in your vows, he tucked your actions into his cold, beating heart and with stubbornness, he held tight with a vice grip.

Till death do us both part.

And he’d be sure that was a promise you were going to keep.

[sanjisblackasswife]

now what about virgin!zoro sleeping with the reader for the first time 🤭

A/N: Aww yay more virgin content for the W😭🤍🫶🏾 okie dokie I gotchu! Tysm for the request! Enjoy!

“I Want Everytime to Feel Like This” Virgin! Zoro x Slightly Experienced! Reader (NSFW/FLUFF)

WC: 2.9k

Bad Summary: Zoro’s girlfriend always wanted to go the next level with her new boyfriend Zoro, but he always seemed reluctant in doing so which causes her to feel a bit insecure

Black Chubby/Thick Fem Reader in Mind

CW: Needy!Zoro, Reader is older than Zoro, Fingering, Lots of Kissing, Reader is in Control, but not like a Dom Reader Kinda Way(?), Riding, Ball Sucking, Finger Sucking, A lot of Sucking, Vaginal Sex, Mentions of Anal, Oral Sex, Zoro Gets Overstimulated, Also not Proofread yet

“You’re…a Virgin?”

“Tch…no need to be so dramatic about it so what?!”

-

You couldn’t really recall the day you and Zoro became partners romantically. You’ve known him for a few years now and in that time he never once been the type to seem interested in being in a relationship just like his Captain.

It kind of just happened. You and him had a small bicker back and fourth that turned into a full blown argument until Zoro kissed you and confessed how he truly felt. It was hard for the man, keeping his feeings bottled up, but you were stubborn and kept pestering him, you kept getting close when he tried pushing away. You were probably one of the few people that could break Zoro like that.

Well fast forward now and you both are in a strong relationship with no complaints.

Except one.

Zoro Never was the type to initiate sex. You both never had gone as far as making out, but every single time you begin to fondle his pants to straddle him he pushes you back and talks about how tired he is. It’s been a year you both have been together and it started to get to you? He wasn’t a religious man, he didn’t believe in much so clearly it wasn’t his own morals stopping him from getting further in bed with you.

Did he not trust you?

Maybe you weren’t that attractive to him?

Well tonight was a perfect night to ask.

You both were just laying on your bed, too tired to get up and do something, but too awake to fall asleep. you both just relaxed in your room for the night after a bath. Boredom and a little horniness took over so you began to kiss and pepper his face and he didn’t mind it until the kissing turned hot and heavy. But like clock work Zoro sat up and denied you access.

Your face scrunched up, not even hiding the irritation you had, it made Zoro buff and look away in embarrassment, lips glossy from yours, his breathing was heavy. Clearly he wanted more, but it was like he just couldn’t .

“Zo…what’s wrong…” Your Voice was soft despite the agitation you wore on your face. “Hm? Talk to me.”

You hands touched his tanned cheek. Whether the grumpy green head admit it or not he loved how gentle you can be towards him in situations like this.

“Nothing. Just tired.” He plainly responded trying to guide you off of him but you sat stubbornly still making his eyes shoot at you.

“No you’re not. Zoro y—-are you …are you um…are you still attracted to me?”

He knew why you’d ask that but it still didn’t erase the disbelief he showed you.

-ZORO’s Pov-

I cant believe she’s ask me that stupid ass question!

Of course I’m attracted to her?!

Y/N is fucking breath taking.

She’s radiant.

She’s beautiful

She makes my stomach hurt in the best way when I look at her beautiful eyes.

And her body….

Dammit i should just tell her the truth it’s been going on for too long now!

“I am.” I responded. Fuck i wish I could talk to her better.

“Then…why haven’t we…ever….”

She takes her hand away from my face and look away, she looked so cute squirming above me trying to find her words. She’s not as bad as me but it’s still nice to see her struggle her way through.

“Why haven’t we ever had sex….”

I knew she’d ask me that.

I sigh.

“If you don’t want to or you’re waiting it’s fine I just…you didnt peg me as the typ—“

“I’m a virgin.”

Her eyes grow like ten times the size and she jumped back a little as if I told her some bad news. Can this woman be more embarrassing?!

“You’re—“

“YESSSS.” I cut her off groaning. It’s been 40 seconds and she kept repeating “YoUrE a ViRgIn?!”

She kept staring at me with an unreadable expression? She looked like she wanted to talk shit about it. As if I cared. I don’t give a damn about not having sex. It’s not that big of a deal.

“Well I’m not.” She said confidently shrugging.

WHAT?!

“Youre—you’re not?!”

“Nope.” She sighed laying on top of my chest, “Loss it when I was 19.”

“…that was —“

“2 years ago mmhmmm. Long before you, but that’s not important….Zoro i don’t care that You’re a Virgin. Or if that’s ganna make me not want or something—“

“I don’t give a shit either!”

“THEN WHY HAVENT WE HAD SEX??”

“I…”

Dammit.

There was no reason I just…

Didn’t want to disappoint her with my lack of experience.

“How about this.” She sat up, breast bouncing in the process in my face. “If you want…let’s go slow…i don’t care if you had no experience i can just teach you. You’re a fast learner anyways.”

Before I can respond she smashes her lips into mine for a moment, nearly picking back up the make out session we had earlier but she pushes away this time and giggles.

“…would you like to go further tonight?”

Zoro grumbled turning to hide his pink face. He would never admit he did always wanted to go further after their first kiss but now that you’re offering he doesn’t really know how to respond. You laugh before taking his hand and peppering his sore knuckles in kisses. He never experienced this level of sensual movements from you, your eyes never parted from his dark ones as each knuckle was getting the same amount of attention. His lips were parted anticipating how far you’d go until you popped his middle and ring finger in your mouth

Zoro felt his stomach drop for the first time in years. Your tongue wrapped around his digits like a snake wrapping around its prey. Granted this wasn’t your plan to be this damn lewd but you couldn’t help it you just couldn’t help it when it came down to your boyfriend Roronoa Zoro.

You popped them out, a small spit trail gracefully falling on you chin not caring to wipe it so the green haired swordsman reached with his free hand to do so, but you kissed him instead. His breathing through his nose was harsh and stuttering at your boldness.

“Answer me, Zoro…do…” You pushed him back, you finger trailing down his scar, threatening to touch his nipple, down to his v-line where his shorts were so horribly covering his growing erection you chose to ignore, “you want to further this?”

Zoro clears his throat swallowing hard looking at your breast free from any bra or tight clothing swing above him under your big shirt,

“Yes. But let’s go slow.”

That was all you needed to hear to give his tantalizing neck a lick, kiss and a suck.

“Fuck…” He huffed put hands thrown on your waist to press his thumbs down on you tightly. You never got to kiss him there, Zoro held his breath from holding back any moans, but that wasn’t until you peppered your way down to said nipple, almost as if you read his mind and teasingly flicked the tip of your tongue on the sensitive little thing. “D-don’t do that?!”

He sounded so unsure. But that wasn’t even the main issue here Zoro stuttering!? This was revolutionary ! As much as you wanted to look up and smile to poke fun, you felt a poke at your tummy. You smirk, hand sneaking to his hard on making estimates with your palm of how big he really was.

“Are you ganna keep rubbing my cock through my pants or are you going to do something about it….it’s your fault.”

“Aww.” You look up and him biting your lip, smiling. “Don’t make me blush. I’m already doing that to you.”

“Tch..shut up!”

You snicker pulling down his pants and boxers, he lifts hi hips a little to assist and the moment he notices the look on your face as his cock bounces against his lower abdomen he grows a sly smirk throwing his arms in the back of his head.

“You act like you never seen one—“

“Shut up ! Let me just…” You throw off the shirt and toss away your panties. You completely forgot Zoro never seen you naked so it was a treat to see him so flustered at the sight of you,

“What? YoU aCt lIkE yOu—“

“You’re Beautiful.”

His voice was deadpanned, but it was a genuine compliment. His eyes didn’t tear from your body, absorbing it all like he wasn’t going to see it again. You climb back on him to kiss him once more,

“Thank you.” Was all you replied before trailing your kisses down his body leaving a shock hit his spine with each peck, you kneel comfortably beside his legs and grab ahold of his cock stroking it firmly until you spit on it a little for extra lube.

You shoved as much as you could in his mouth leaving the remainder to be stroked with one hand and your other massaging his balls, Zoro began to breathe ragged, groaning through his teeth on how well you were to take him in.

“Shit!” He cursed immediately pushing back some of your hair to see your covered face, your back was now arched beautifully, toes subtly curling as you sucked Zoro’s cock. You licked from the base to the tip and then all the way down to his balls , “FUCK!”

You sucked them while slowly rubbing your now wet hand on his shaft at a steady pace. You started to feel his cock twitch and his hips buck. He must have been close to cumming.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!!! Don’t stop please!”

You went back to lick his slit then his entire tip before you get your tongue get sprayed with his hot seed. You grimace a bit at the taste, mostly because you never been the swallow kind of girl, but this was Zoro.

He deserved it.

You didn’t stop though you kept lightly pumping his cock for more and though he wanted to push you away his body kept begging.

“Shit! I—“

Kissing him again he lowly growls in your mouth pulling your closer now chest to chest, Zoro couldn’t stop going even if he wanted to. He thought he was a damn fool to have not at least done oral sex with you before in the past, recalling all the times you’ve offered.

“Let me…let me…”

You tilt your head at him with a confused expression,

“I want to return the favor.”

It’s almost shameful how excited you were, but you had to quickly pull yourself together and decline, but Zoro wasn’t having any of that.

“This is about you—“

“It’s about us, Y/N.” He moves you to lay down now on top of your smaller form, his skin tone was so pretty under the moonlight and sweating, “Just show me…”

“Show you what…”

“Tch…” He looks away for a moment, knowing you’re making him speak because you’re probably getting off to it, “Teach me….—“

“Teach me how to eat that pussy of yours.”

Your body immediately melted. His voice was so low you thought maybe he was threatening you, toying with you, a menacing grin sneaked through his lips before planting a sweet kiss on you, mimicking you taunts by trailing his open mouth kisses on your body, spreading your thighs apart embarrassingly wide.

Zoro admired the wetness of your cunt, all for him? He was about to have the time of his life.

He kissed your clit, a small remnant of your juices stained his lips and tongue giving him his first taste of you, Sake, Onigiri, nothing could compare to your taste.

He needed more.

“Z-ZO!” Your back snapped upwards with one hand gripping his hair, his tongue was exploring you whole not missing any area until he finally stuck it inside you, “ZORO!”

Her taste was so damn addicting.

She was bladdering on on how I needed to slow down but fuck that I can’t believe I took this long, and from her moans and the way she keeps pushing me in with he legs I must be a prodigy at this.

She kept crying my name until she came inside my mouth squirting a little, it was cute. I don’t think she’s ever done that.

“I….I’m sorry.” She covered her face but I pulled them back grabbing her cheeks to push my tongue in her mouth.

“Don’t be sorry.”

I looked back down and I just couldn’t help myself. I rubbed my two fingers on her slit, she was so wet I kept slipping off her clit.

“Just like that…” Y/N’s voice was so gentle, it was also mixed in with her sexy ass moans she kept doing, she felt so fucking good taking my fingers so well.

I sped up my pace now full blown scissoring her, I used my thumb to press down on her clit and trace circles, shit her legs began to twitch.

“Oh Zo! Yes!” She cried out, her hands were reaching for something to grab so I let go of her thigh and intertwined my fingers with hers, she was so hot to the touch, y/n looked at me with her low lids, mouth parted trying to fix her unsteady breaths as I kept going. She looked like she wanted to tell me something?

“Kiss me, Zo…”

I swallowed the lump in my throat before I bent over to kiss her. She felt so good, she sounded so good, everything about her was so perfect I couldn’t take it. Her other free hand rubbing my scalp as she sucked the fuck out of my tongue, begging to taste herself again mixed with my spit. I pulled away, a spit line following down her chest as I latch on to her perk nipples, I nearly forgot—

I needed to mark her up.

I latched back into her neck leaving one hickey right below her jawline, I sucked and kissed all the way down until I reached her breast and I made a mess of them too. She pushed me off a little whining and climbed back on top of me panting and I took the opportunity to slap her ass.

Fuck I can’t wait until we do this again.

“Shit..” i mumble, She didn’t waste anytime rubbing her slit on my cock, her pretty little tits bounced in my face as I sat up to be completely eye to eye to her.

“‘M ganna…put it in…” she whispers hovering over me.

“Then fucking do it…if you can handle it.” I taunt in her ear.

She squints at me and scoffs, without any words I watch her slowly sink onto my cock, she was tight as all hell, but

“So warm…” I mumble, she grabs ahold of my hands peppering them in kisses again and then my face before she slammed herself on me having us both moan out in each others mouths, “A-are you okay?! Did you slip?!”

“No I didn’t—ah—slip dumbass I meant to do that!”

She’s such a fucking liar.

“You sure I’m not in your a—“

“Shut up!” She yelled looking up, adjusting to my size, I sit and wait, I’d rather be in this position all night then to have her feel uncomfortable for my sake.

“Okay..”. She huffs looking in my eyes, she looked so beautiful trying to keep her composure as I was inside her, “I’m going to move now…”

We lock fingers and she begins to bounce.

“Ah!” Her voice hums with each time she lowers herself, “Ah—-Zo you…feel so good!”

“Y-you! Tooo fuck can you go any faster now?!”

She pushes me on my back again and rest her hands on my chest now grinding and bouncing in a rhythm that’s already about to make me fucking—-

“CU—Fuck I’m cuming!”

I damn near Bit off my lip feeling her lightly chuckling and continuously grind above me. Fuck there goes that painful overstim…

“Want me to keep going?” She teased but her body didn’t act like she was threatening to stop.

“Y-yes! Please y/n!”

..can’t believe I’m begging right now, but I don’t care she felt too good!

She picked up her pace now going up and down, her ass hitting my thighs as I kept hearing the wet noises from her pussy clenching on my cum coated cock now dripping down my balls onto the sheets.

“Zo!” She squeezed my hands with her eyes shut Stil moving, “I’m close baby!”

“I am too cum with me sweetheart!”

I pulled her close to ride her orgasm out with me, her legs twitched on my sides, her face buried in my neck cuming and humping my cock like the little cute slut she was.

When we both calmed down it was a comfortable silence, my eyes were shut with my arms around her still quivering body, our cum oozing out while she cockwarmed me and I felt her play with my earrings.

“Stop That.”

“Hmmm…” She sighed kissing my hot cheek, “You’re so pretty Zo…”

“Shut up…”

“You look Even prettier between my legs.”

“Yeah…and you look hotter with my cock in your slutty mouth.”

We share a small laugh, y/n yawns and I throw the blanket over the both of us pulling her up by her ass to get comfortable. Hope she don’t mind warming me for the night.

“Thank you for trusting me Zo…” she kisses me cheek tenderly, “I love you.”

“…I love you, too…”

“Awwww look at you all soft and stuff after getting some pussy!” She sung squeezing my cheek.

“SHUT UP Y/N!”