#i’m so happy we got this scene already | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

saetoru · 1 year

Text

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。i know you still think about the times we had

synopsis. satoru will always comes when you call him, he just never thought you’d stop calling

— word count. 5.2k (where did i go wrong)

— contents. college au, rich boy! gojo, break ups and make ups <3, it’s the cliche trope where the rich guy’s parent forces you to leave him aka gojo’s father is the villain, angst with a happy ending—i don’t want my cause of death to be angry rb! gojo stans, emo gojo ft. marvin’s room (iykyk), cliche rain scene—this fic is so cliche i’m sorry, reader is gn! but gojo is mentioned to like pics of girls on instagram (he was being petty)

— notes. well, it finally happened. the long awaited break up. this one’s for you niku 🤞🏽 AND DABITEE ANON

you open the door when satoru knocks—just barely, though. it’s just enough to hand him the bag with the remaining things he’s left at your apartment. it feels familiar, being here, but it feels so different too. it’s always been happy knocking on your door—he never thought he’d dread letting his knuckles meet the cool wood. it’s like taking the last bite of something sweet when you’re too full. when the sugar is too decadent on your tongue and your head spins and your stomach twists and it’s too much even though it used to be so good.

it’s too much being here. it’s too much trying to meet your gaze and get nothing in return. it’s too much being handed back that sweater he basically let you keep. and yet, it’s good to see you. he wants nothing more than to be here with you, wherever you are, even if you don’t want him to stay.

“that should be everything,” you murmur, still looking down. “let me know if there’s anything missing.”

satoru would never tell you if there’s something missing. he’d never come back and demand back something he gave you, he doesn’t think he could ever take back something he gave you—being handed back his heart after pressing it to your palms is hard enough. but then again, maybe he should look for small things you probably missed. just so he can come back. just so he can see you—how else will he see you now?

“no, it’s alright,” he says quietly. he doesn’t miss the way you quickly let go as soon as his hands grab the bag, almost like you’re being careful enough not to let your fingers meet each other. “you can uh…you can just keep them. or…throw them out if you don’t want them,” he mumbles.

you nod, standing there silently. it’s quiet, and then it’s quiet some more. and finally, you look up at him for the first time since he got here, staring at him a little expectantly. oh, right. now would be the part where he leaves.

“can i…can i just know why?” he croaks. fuck. he’s not supposed to cry. you ripped his heart out and threw it at his feet, you didn’t even care to hand it to him even after you tore every artery apart. but he sniffles anyway, lips wobbling as he stares at you. “why are you leaving me?”

your fingers twitch, like you itch to reach over and wipe that tear that rolls down his cheek. in the end, you cross your arms instead. “i already told you, satoru—”

“that’s bullshit,” he clicks his teeth, shaking his head as he stares at you frustratedly, “you gave me some bullshit reason.”

satoru has worked so hard to be here—to be with you. hadn’t he done enough? hadn’t he told you about himself, things he didn’t want to? hadn’t he tried to become something, someone more than just a guy swimming in trust funds? hadn’t he worked for your attention, waited outside classes and walked opposite directions in the hall with you just to seem dedicated? fuck, he even burned his hand trying to learn how to make pancakes to impress you, let the maids laugh at him as he twisted the stove the wrong way to try and turn it on.

why wasn’t it enough? what more could he give you than everything? how can the guy who has everything not have enough to give? he doesn’t understand.

“satoru, we weren’t gonna work,” you pinch your nose—it’s like you’re the one who doesn’t understand why he’s being like this. “the sooner you accept that the more hurt you’re saving the both of us—”

“we were working just fine,” he says exasperatedly. it’s like you insist he’s crazy when he’s nothing but sane. like he’s trying to tell you the sky is blue, and you’re refusing to believe it’s anything other than green. it’s clear. it’s practically a fact. you were doing just fine—why don’t you see that? “we were happy,” he takes a step forward and cups your cheeks, pressing his forehead to yours, “was it someone? did they tell you something? just tell me who, baby—i’ll fix it. i’ll put them in their place, okay? no one can bother you if i get them to leave you alone—”

“then you leave me alone,” you whisper. he stills. you pull away from his hands. “sator—gojo. please just leave me alone. it’s better that way.”

you close the door, and he stands there. numb. maybe a little shocked. entirely ruined.

gojo. he laughs quietly after a moment at that—it’s a laugh meant for men who’ve lost the last thread to sanity. gojo. it’s like a slap in the face, being called the name he worked so hard to get you to drop. it took him weeks—months, even, to convince you to call him satoru. then he upgraded to toru. then it was baby. sometimes you teased him and called him pumpkin—he called you peaches in return. when you introduced him, you called him your boyfriend.

not anymore. now he’s back to gojo—that god-forsaken name with everything but what he really wants attached to it. his grandfather’s legacy. his future. business deals. fancy invites. more money than he knows what to do with. the name gojo comes with everything but you.

but he had you for a bit, didn’t he? when he was just satoru—but now he’s gojo again, and you’re gone. the only sign of you left is in the faint traces of your perfume in the sweaters you’ve returned.

and satoru still isn’t sure what brought the break up on. he thinks it’s the part that stings the most—when everything seems perfect one second, and then it’s not. had he not tried enough? maybe he was too much. maybe he didn’t understand you the way you needed him to. maybe he was too overbearing. maybe he asked for too much too fast.

he’s not sure. he tried asking when you broke it off—you only shook your head and said it wasn’t going to work out between the two of you, that it was a mistake to try at all. mistake? how could you call this a mistake? things were so perfect, weren’t they?

satoru doesn’t think there was even one second he wasn’t smiling when he was with you, and he used to think the same was true for you too. had you been faking it this long? or was it real at one point—had he really failed you so badly, seen past you so blindly that he didn’t notice when your smiles stopped reaching your eyes?

it’s too late, he figures. you and satoru are broken up.

you ask him to come over one morning, and he does—because he always comes when you call. he brings your coffee order from that cafe you like, the one you don’t go to often because the coffee is more overpriced than any other coffee shop you’ve ever seen. he’s grinning when you open the door, leans in to kiss your lips excitedly. you turn your head then, and his lips meet your cheeks instead—he supposes he should’ve known it at that moment. he should’ve seen that your lips weren’t smiling. your eyes were tired, a little red. you were hugging yourself in that way you do when you’re nervous. you didn’t let him kiss your lips, you made him kiss your cheek.

and then you sat him down on that worn-down couch of yours, took off that bracelet his mother gave him to gift you on your anniversary, and pressed it to his palm as you said we should break up. break up. you wanted to leave him—and satoru didn’t understand, still doesn’t understand.

he’s tried for so long, replayed the last month of your relationship in his head over and over and fucking over. you always smiled. you kissed him first. you held his hand, and even squeezed. you asked to see him. you laughed when he was around. you said i love you. you were happy. but then you weren’t—when did you stop being happy? and how could you have stopped feeling it with him?

—————

breaking up with satoru is the hardest thing you’ve ever done. how long can people live without the sun? you think not longer than a few minutes—that’s what it feels like without satoru’s warmth, anyway.

gojo satoru has always smiled as long as he’s been with you. he smiled smugly on your first meet, smiled bitterly after every rejection, smiled in pure glee when you finally said yes, and smiled like his fingertips could touch the sky every time he saw you after that.

satoru has never looked sad for long in your presence—you have that effect on him, you make his lips curl and his eyes brighten in that way that they deserve to shine. but for the first time ever, his eyes dim with you around, his lips curl into a frown at your words, and he cries for you. his eyes glisten with tears instead of wonder, and you think for a moment that you might be making a mistake.

but then you remember that this is for the best—that if you really love gojo satoru, you’ll let him go instead of clipping his wings.

“he’s picked up his things,” you speak quietly into the phone. you don’t sniffle even as you desperately need to—it’s the last bit of control you have left, and you intend to keep it. “i won’t be seeing him again.”

“good,” his father speaks, “that’s good to hear.”

satoru’s father is a cold man, you learn that on the first meet. he doesn’t look at his wife with a soft look that tells you there’s any love built between the decades of marriage, and he doesn’t look at his only son with any affection for the boy he raised. instead, he stares at satoru like any businessman would an opportunity—with a calculating gaze that tries to work out the best course of action for the most profit.

satoru is young, but he’s charming and conniving and knows how to get what he wants when he wants—he’s quick on his feet and rarely lets himself get cornered into a wall. in the last three generations of the family business, no heir has shown as much promise as gojo satoru. that’s what his father tells you, anyway. you believe him—satoru is smart and knows how to play his cards right, you won’t deny that. his future is set to be comfortable, and he’s never known anything outside of that, never built any other plans for himself.

you can’t rip that away from him—not for your own sake, not for your own happiness.

“you promised you wouldn’t freeze his trust funds once i ended things,” you remind him, “and that he’d keep his inheritance.” somehow, because the world grants you this one favor, your voice doesn’t shake—it’s steady and firm as it reminds the stone-cold man at the end of the line of your agreement—and he offers a slow chuckle that makes your jaw clench.

“yes, i do recall,” he hums, “i’m glad we could come to agree. you understand, don’t you? it is my job as his father to do what’s best for him.”

you know what he’s saying—what that means. you’re not what’s best for him. maybe he’s right—maybe satoru needs someone who’s equally as promising to build a successful company into even more success. maybe he needs someone who can take him out for a change to those fancy places he takes you every few weeks. maybe he needs someone who’s heard of half the brands he wears and doesn’t scold him to turn the lights off so the electricity bill isn’t high. maybe he needs someone who can keep up with everything that gojo satoru is—and that someone is not you, no matter how deeply you love him.

“—the offer still stands, should you change your mind. i’m willing to compensate you for the trouble this must all be.”

your lips curl into a scowl at his words. that’s the thing about rich people, you think—money is always enough to sugarcoat everything. why worry about the dead grass in your lawn when you can paint it green? but you don’t leave satoru for extra cash on your hands—nothing can be worth auctioning off the only man who’s ever made you feel anything. you leave satoru because he deserves to continue living comfortably, to make a name for himself that isn’t just a ghost of his father’s. if that means being cut from the corner of the picture, you’re willing to pick up the scissors yourself.

“no thanks,” you hiss, “i don’t need the money.”

“i would disagree,” his father sneers, “but suit yourself.”

the line ends, and for good this time, satoru is no longer yours. was he ever to begin with?

—————

you try to forget your ex-boyfriend—keyword, try. every hour of your life consists of you using your burner account to refresh his instagram page to see if he’s posted anything new. you unfollow satoru from every social media platform the same day he picks up his belongings—you know he’s noticed within the first thirty minutes because all of his pictures with you are gone, just like all your pictures with him.

in what you assume is an attempt to be petty, he likes every picture of every girl he sees, and he even blocks you on twitter—you know he picks twitter because twitter is the only social media that blatantly states you’re blocked. but then you’re unblocked in two days, and you know he must be missing you now that the initial anger is faded.

it makes you laugh a little, even through your tears. satoru is not satoru without petty fits of emotion, and you can’t bring yourself to be mad, not when it’s your fault he’s hurting like this. he’s extra sad today, you gather—if the way marvin’s room is posted to his instagram story on a blank screen is of any hint. it makes you scoff in amusement that in true gojo satoru fashion, he’s effectively told all eight-thousand-something of his followers he’s pathetically in his feelings.

you scroll through suguru’s story, too—he didn’t unfollow you even after satoru temporarily blocked you, but you figure suguru is the only person satoru really has. you shouldn’t keep yourself close to him, not when it could hurt satoru more, so you remove him too.

suguru is, as always, drinking at some fancy party with obnoxiously rich college students who have not a care in the world for midterms around the corner. who needs to pass when you’re swimming in money whether or not you have a degree? the first thing you learn about the rich is that most of them are only at college for the experience—they don’t see college as the stepping stone to better opportunities, there’s nothing education could offer that trust funds already don’t. but satoru attends college for himself—he enjoys business classes, you learn, and especially finance ones. for someone who spends money so carelessly, he understands it particularly well.

there’s no sign of satoru at whatever party it is suguru is at, there’s no trace of strikingly bright white strands anywhere in any corners—you do see naoya in a corner, though, and you crinkle your nose in distaste. if satoru were here, he’d say something bitterly under his breath about the asshole, and you would giggle. but satoru is not here, and even naoya the women-hating jackass makes you miss your obnoxiously whiny ex-boyfriend.

everything reminds you of satoru. that bear he won you at the fair (after maybe six tries) by your pillows, those polaroids at your desk that you can’t bring yourself to take down, that sticky note on your fridge he left promising to replace the creamer he finished (he’s replaced it more times than he’s needed to by now), that extra big blanket you keep on the couch because the old one barely covered his legs, that pair of silly matching mugs you both had for coffee in the mornings.

every corner of your apartment has something that reminds you that satoru was here, that he was yours, that for a short while, he was the best thing you ever had. it’s your fault, you think—that satoru and you are here in this mess in the first place. he’s always looked at life through a hopeful lens. having everything does that to you, makes you ignorant to the misfortunes of the world, makes you think everything is within the realm of your reach. you, on the other hand, knew this was bound to happen. the two of you together is like hot oil and cool water—what feels like sparks is just the oil shooting out to burn you. you should’ve known this would have never lasted.

in a way, you think you did. it’s why you hated him so fiercely at first—maybe deep down, you always knew you wanted him, that he would never be yours. maybe that’s why you were so adamant about rejecting him, that even when he was clearly trying, it would never be enough. satoru has always been enough, has always been what everyone has wanted—you’re not so sure you can say the same for yourself.

you love gojo satoru. he loves you too—he falls first, and you think maybe, he might have fallen harder too. no one loves like satoru. they say if you press coal hard enough, it turns to diamonds—you think if you gave satoru coal, he would hand you back the sun and all of her stars. it’s just the kind of guy he is, the one that turns everything dull into something bright and warm and worth it. you wish you didn’t have to break his heart, you wish you could’ve walked out of this the only one hurt. but maybe, at the very least, if you break him good enough that he hates you, he’ll move on quicker, maybe have something to look forward to while you continue to work your way up and cheer him on.

before you can refresh suguru’s page one more time to stalk his story, you’re pulled from your thoughts as someone knocks on your door—correction: pounds on your door. you jolt on your couch, standing up and making your way to the front door quickly and looking through the peephole.

satoru. of course.

he’s soaked to the bone—it’s raining outside, and of course, just as on brand as always, he must’ve rushed here without an umbrella.

you shouldn’t open it.

but you can’t just leave him in the rain, can you? but he’s not your problem anymore, you agreed to leave him, didn’t you? but how could he not be your problem when he’s all you think about? but this could cause him trouble if his father found out he was here, right? but can you really leave someone, ex-boyfriend or not, in the pouring rain? you can’t be that cruel can you?

before you can make up your mind, he speaks up, “i know you’re standing there. open the door,” he demands.

“satoru, go home,” you sigh, head pressing against the surface that separates you, “don’t make this anymore difficult than it has to be.”

“if it’s difficult, that means you don’t really want to do this,” he argues. he’s still as good as ever at sweet talk, still as persistent and charming as ever at getting what he wants. “please,” he croaks, “just let me in.”

you know it means more than one thing. you know it means more than just your home. but you shouldn’t, you can’t let him know why you did all this—how can you protect someone from something if they don’t let you? satoru would never let you if he knew, and that’s why you can’t let him know.

“satoru, if you don’t leave…i’ll…i’ll call the cops,” you warn.

“no you won’t,” he says instantly. “i’m not leaving until you open the door. and if i get sick, i’ll send you my bill for the emergency room visit.”

“you’re not going to the emergency room for a common cold, you idiot,” you scoff.

the rain doesn’t slow—in fact, you can hear thunder. satoru is still stubbornly outside, knocking away.

“i’ll start screaming,” he insists, “your neighbors will complain for noise again. do you want to be kicked out of this apartment? just let your cold, wet, heartbroken ex-boyfriend in if you have a heart.”

and because you are, and always will be, weak to the charms of gojo satoru, you open that damned door—even though you shouldn’t, even though you can’t, even though you said you would never again. but you do. because it’s satoru, and he always comes when you call, and you’ll always let him in when he’s here.

“you don’t come to your ex’s house less than one week after the break up,” you sigh once you open the door. he takes a step in, shutting the door behind him.

“why did you leave me?” he asks.

“satoru, you can’t keep bringing this up—”

“why? just tell me why.”

“i don’t have to—”

“tell me why and i’ll stop bothering you. i just need to know why,” he insists.

and then you break.

you’re only human. you’ve lost the man you’ve given everything to for over a year in the span of one week. you’ll never see his lovely mother again who spoiled you rotten, you’ll never hang out out with his funny best friend who treats you like family, and you’ll never be enough for gojo satoru, the rich, loud, sheltered, obnoxious, handsome jackass you met and had to do a project with and accidentally fucked over and over again until you fell in love.

so you shove his chest, once, then twice, then a third time, each time getting weaker and weaker than the last as tears slip down your cheeks as you simply break down. “just leave, satoru,” you sob, “why can’t you just leave? why do you keep coming back?”

you hate seeing him here. you want him gone. you never want to see him again. you hope he never leaves. you’re glad to see him. you hope this isn’t the last time. you hate that he seems to not be getting enough sleep. his eyes are hollow. he must not be eating properly. he probably hasn’t attended class. he has a quiz next week. he most likely forgot about that. his clothes are wrinkly. he definitely hasn’t showered in days.

“last month you said i was it for you,” he glares at you, his eyes red and swollen and every shade of heartbreak. you miss when they were blue—that beautiful, bright, perfect shade of blue. “last week you said we were a mistake. what the fuck do you mean, huh? what are you playing at?”

“you can realize a lot in a month—”

“not enough to erase over a year,” his voice booms. it makes you flinch and hug yourself tightly. tears slide down your cheeks, your vision is blurry. this might be the last time you see satoru, and even if he’s angry, you want to remember the curves of his features. so you wipe them away. they keep coming back. “so tell me,” he clenches his jaw, “did you string me along for a year or did something happen last week that you’re not telling me?”

“i realized you were bad for me,” you say quietly.

satoru stares at you. it’s a piercing gaze—his eyes are electrically blue and his lashes are unfairly long and every time he stares at you, you think he almost sees into your soul. they’re tired—there are purplish bags under them on that pale skin of his, and the whites of his eyes are concerningly bloodshot. he stares, and stares, and for a second, you think you’ll die like this. watching him stare at you as your heart bleeds out.

“i spent weeks,” his voice shakes, “i waited outside your class. i followed you to the next one. i memorized your fucking schedule.”

“satoru, you need to leave—”

“and then you fucked me and left every morning like i was nothing,” he glares, sniffling. you don’t know where the rain drops on his face start and where the teardrops end. “and then i begged you for a chance—begged. i burned my hand, got laughed at by the maids to learn how to make those stupid fucking pancakes for you.”

“i didn’t ask you to—”

“it took you two months to call me baby for the first time. did you know that? i waited two months to hear that. i thought it was the best two months i ever waited.”

“satoru,” you plead.

you’ve given up on trying to wipe away the tears—he’s given up on crying altogether. you’ve never seen him so hollow, so dead in the eyes and so, so tired.

satoru has never gotten tired—not when he’s fighting for you.

“and then you kept pushing me away, acting like i was some shallow guy who wanted to get in your pants and leave cause i had some money to my name. i took you everywhere, introduced you proudly, let everyone say what they wanted to say about me because i loved you, and…and i thought you loved me too,” he shakes his head.

his voice breaks, and god, so does your heart right along with it.

“i do love you,” you admit it before you realize what you’re saying.

“then why did you fucking leave me?” his voice is loud.

satoru never yells, not at you. his voice is always gentle, patient, like he worships the ground you walk on, like he’ll get on his knees if you ask him too. satoru never yells—but he does tonight.

“because i had to,” you sob, fingers digging into your temples as you shake. the words spill from your lips faster than the tears, like a swarm of angry bees, one following after the other. “or you’d lose everything. the trust funds, the inheritance, the company. i couldn’t let that happen to you—not for me,” you whisper.

it feels like defeat—in the end, you couldn’t keep satoru, and you couldn’t leave him either. you couldn’t love him like you wanted, and you couldn’t let him go like you should have. what else is there left to fuck up? what more can you ruin in less than a week? the bees feel like maggots in your mouth, swarming a dead carcass.

“so you left me because my old man threatened you with my trust funds?” he asks in disbelief. you think something in satoru dies at that—something in his shoulders falls and his eyes almost seem gray.

satoru gets his blue eyes from his mother—they’re bright and kind and deeper than the ocean. but unlike the ocean, they’re not scary to fall into, to lose yourself in no matter how far you are from shore. his father’s eyes are gray—cold and blank and not laced with a single hint of emotion.

you can’t help but think that blue suits satoru so much better than gray ever could.

“it wasn’t just that,” you shake your head, “that’s not fair, satoru. what was i supposed to do? know you were about to lose everything and stay?”

“you could have talked to me before you decided for me,” he hisses, “what do you want me to say? thank you? thank you for breaking my heart? thank you for making me feel like a worthless piece of shit who wasted a year for someone who didn’t seem to care? thank you for walking out on me?”

“you know i’d have stayed if i could,” you argue, voice breaking.

“then why didn’t you? why the fuck didn’t you?”

“because i couldn’t!”

“you could!” he screams—you realize, for the first time in your life, you hate when satoru screams. he never screams. “all my life, that old man has been making decisions for me. satoru, wear this. satoru, go here. satoru, don’t do that. satoru, put that away. satoru, stay away from them. satoru, come with me. that’s all he’s ever fucking done—make every choice for me. and now…now you’re just like him,” he breathes, lips wobbling as he stares at you with hurt.

it’s like that for a bit—you stare at him as he crumbles, and he stares at you like he doesn't know you anymore. you don’t know who leans in first, if it’s your hand or his face, but one second you’re feet apart, and the next second his face is cradled in your hands, thumbs swiping away at his tears. you catch them, one by one, waiting to wipe them away no matter how fast they come. because satoru always comes when you call, and you’ll always be there for him to find you.

“i don’t want to leave,” you mumble, “i never do. you are it for me, i meant that, you know. who else will melt extra chocolate in my hot chocolate?”

“then don’t leave,” he begs, voice cracking, “i don’t want you to. i’ll handle that old geezer—my grandfather will knock some sense into him. fuck, suguru and i can even hide his body, it’s fine. just don’t leave, okay?”

you let out a watery chuckle, pinching his cheek as you shake your head. “i don’t know if i’m worth homicide, satoru.”

“i think you’re wrong,” he huffs, “you’re wrong about a lot of things, you know. so wrong.”

“i never said i was perfect,” you pout.

he buries his head into your neck, clinging to you tightly—you cling back, because nothing is as safe as satoru’s arms. you’d melt into his skin if you could, live in that spot right where his heart is so you can make sure it’s always beating.

“you’re still perfect,” he mumbles, “but you’re always mean to me. this was the worst you’ve ever been.”

“i’m sorry,” you murmur, slipping your fingers into his hair—it’s still wet, you realize. he’s soaked, and he could catch a cold but you don’t care. satoru is back. he’s here in your run-down apartment with the mugs and the blanket and that toothbrush you forgot to return and that pair of socks you found in your drawer. satoru is finally home. “i’ll never leave you again.”

“promise?”

“yeah. as long as you don’t block me on twitter again.”

“you deserved that.”

“and for the love of god, toru, delete that marvin’s room story. that was so dumb.”

“are you stalking me?” he pulls away with a grin, making you glare with a huff. he chuckles, kisses your forehead as he murmurs, “missed me that bad, huh? yeah, i would too.”

“well, obviously not enough to post marvin’s room on my story.”

“you can’t be mean to me after you broke my heart!” he whines.

yeah, you think, satoru is home. he’s still that loud, obnoxious, pestering brat that he always was—and he’s still the only love you’ve ever known.

“i love you,” you press your forehead to his, kissing him slowly. you want to kiss him harder, you want to kiss him desperately like you’ll never kiss him again. like you lost him and miraculously got him back. like you’ll never see the sun again without him.

but there’s time for that—lots of it, in fact. because satoru is home.

“i love you too,” he whispers, “wanna shower with me? if you really love me, you would.”

read the makeup sex sequel ;) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

if this fic was a person i would want it dead.

#teepods.writings #fics.#rich boy! au #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru angst

15K notes · View notes

lemonlover1110 · 4 months

Text

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒

Toji Fushiguro

Pairing: Actor!Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Warnings: MDNI!, smut, oral sex (m. receiving), spitting, vaginal sex, creampie, angst, family fluff, toji has like 50 kids (4) and tries to be a good dad

Summary: Toji's selfishness is getting in the way of your family. When he notices that your family is slowly falling apart, he does what he can to hold it together.

*Actually a long oneshot! for @ayyy-pee's collab

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“ACTOR TOJI FUSHIGURO SPOTTED GETTING A LITTLE TOO COZY WITH NEW CO-STAR”

The headlines are everywhere, it’s nearly impossible for you to ignore them. It’s not only the headlines but the pictures, the videos, the talk shows, the clear chemistry between them– And if that isn’t enough, the messages and calls you receive asking if you’re okay, are driving you insane. You don’t know how much more you can take of this.

Toji wanted to venture out of his usual villain role, wanting to do something more lighthearted, more fun. Whenever he’d audition for anything where he wasn’t the bad guy, he would get a simple answer: you’re not the guy we’re looking for. Truth is, Toji is too intimidating and lacks the look of the perfect picture man that they’re looking to cast in romcoms. You aren’t going to lie and say that you were bothered by this, because in fact, you were glad he wasn’t.

As selfish as it sounds, you were happy with the fact that Toji was getting stuck in the same villain roles. He’s already famous enough, and you have more than enough money, he doesn’t really need the lead role since it means that he’ll spend even more time away from his family. But you lie to yourself because if he got the lead in any other movie, you’d be ecstatic for him.

The dreaded day came, and Toji got a call from his agent. An offer for a lead role in a new and upcoming romcom. It was hard for you to be happy for him, even though your husband was so excited to venture out of his usual character. ‘He’s going to kiss someone else’ was the first thought that came into your mind, and then you realized that movies nowadays are so much more explicit than just a kiss.

Toji wasn’t supposed to, but he told you about a couple of things in the movie. He was so excited, and he couldn’t keep a thing from his wife. He told you of the characters, the plot, the scenes he was most excited about and the scenes he was worried about– The steamy scenes where Toji will be stripped to nothing with his tongue down another woman’s throat.

Jealousy would consume you for the next months, realizing that your husband is going to pretend to be with some other woman; however, you can’t be too mad, since it’s all just happening in front of a camera. You’re the only woman Toji loves, you know so. You shouldn’t take this too seriously.

Until the relationship came off the cameras because the pair has undeniable chemistry, and the directors thought that hinting they were having an affair would make for great promo. You nearly begged Toji not to do it, but he didn’t listen. He wants to ensure the movie’s success, which you understand but it’s humiliating for you and your family.

You’re upset with him, and Toji knows this, but he’s allowed to be selfish. He’s wanted this, and he’ll do just about anything to make sure everything goes smoothly, he can risk having you mad at him for a few months. Although, he’ll admit that it sucks because you’re so cold with him.

“How about we take the kids and go out for dinner tonight?” Toji asks, watching as you get out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel. He wants to go on a date with just the two of you, but he also misses his kids. It doesn’t matter what Toji suggests either way, because you ignore him. He clears his throat, repeating, “How about we go out for dinner?”

“Huh?” You respond, acting as if you hadn’t heard him before, and Toji doesn’t know whether to laugh or roll his eyes. Toji repeats the question a third time and you proceed to answer, “I’m going out tonight, I can’t.”

“What are you and the kids doing?” Toji questions, wondering why he wasn’t invited. He guesses he knows why, but you should’ve at least tried to make the effort since it involves your kids.

“I’m going out, the kids are staying with the nanny.” You tell him, which makes his eyebrows perk up. Toji stands up from the bed, walking over to you. He hugs you from behind, planting a kiss on your shoulder.

“How about we–” He begins but you proceed to cut him off before he can even finish his sentence.

“I’m going out with friends. Without you.” You answer, removing Toji’s arms from your waist. You walk to the closet to find your outfit for the night, and Toji can’t seem to leave you alone, following behind you like a lost puppy.

“You don’t have to be so cold.” He argues, and you pay no attention to him. You were clear that you didn’t want this to go this far, yet he let it happen. You can be as mad as you want to be with him. “What are you planning to do anyway? Cause a scandal to get back at me?”

“I’m allowed to have fun, am I not, Toji?” You respond. You simply want to go out without thinking of your husband and all the embarrassment his job is bringing. If it causes a scandal, then so be it.

“Then why are you so set on going alone?” He replies, and you scoff. You can’t believe the audacity.

“I just want to be away from you because you humiliate me.” You finally look at him, shooting him a glare. It shouldn’t hurt because he’s caused his own problems, but it still hurts to hear that from his wife, “I was upset about the movie, sure, but I knew you wanted to do it so I bit my tongue. This publicity stunt is too far, and I told you not to do it over and over again, but you did it. Fine. You’re an adult.”

“And? You know it’s not real.” He argues, which only ticks you off more. You won’t raise your voice because your children are wide awake, and you don’t want them to hear as you yell at their father.

“Do you know how many pity messages I’ve gotten? The amount of calls? I’m just the poor victim to all of them, and also the stupid woman that won’t leave her husband.” You respond, and he opens his mouth to argue that it’ll be over soon. In a couple of months the truth will come to light and everything will go back to normal. “The kids are getting teased about it too. Megumi is old enough to know it’s a stunt, but the other three aren’t.”

“What do you mean the two year old and five year old are also affected by this?” He questions in a mocking tone, which tells you that he isn’t fully believing you. You feel your blood boil, and you take a deep breath to keep yourself calm. You’re not letting him get the best of you.

“Well, considering that the ten year old can’t keep his mouth shut and tells the other two that mommy and daddy are getting a divorce, I’d say yes, they are affected by this.” You try to remain stoic, keeping your voice low and calm. Toji bites down his lip, his eyes going wide at the realization that his ten year old refusing to talk to him wasn’t just a simple tantrum. “I tried to tell him that everything is fine between us, but he didn’t exactly believe me.”

“Is that why they’re refusing to talk to me?” Toji’s demeanor changes, becoming somber in a matter of seconds. You end up shrugging, not really knowing why your son is acting the way he is, but you can only assume it’s because of it.

“I’m not sure. Probably.” You don’t care to really find a solution to his problems since you’re upset with him too. He needs to realize that his actions not only affect him but also his family. You watch as the man walks over to the bed to take a seat and think of what to do with this new piece of information. And while you’re mad at him, you still love him and want to help him out one way or another. You focus on getting yourself ready while you tell him, “How about you take them out tonight? Explain to them that everything is fine between us and–”

“Will you come with us?” He interrupts you, making you click your tongue.

“I’m going out, you can deal with the issues that you’ve caused, alone.” You answer, and Toji furrows his eyebrows. He knows that he can’t exactly be too mad at you because you’re right, he caused his own problems. “Take them somewhere to eat, watch a movie with them, play with them. I don’t know. I’m laying it all out for you, Toji. You can decide what’s best.”

“What about you?” He asks, and you don’t even care to entertain him, sitting in front of your vanity to do your makeup. Toji has to repeat himself, and you sigh.

“Figure it out.”

“Ryo, are you ready?!” Toji yells down the hallway, but his ten-year-old doesn’t answer. Toji simply goes ignored, and the man tries to remain calm. Getting mad isn’t going to do him any good, yelling angrily at his son isn’t going to make Ryo any less mad.

You left around thirty minutes ago, and Toji spent the entire time trying to convince you to stay; however, his efforts were in vain. You didn’t care enough to listen which shouldn’t really shock him, he’s still upset though. After you left, he began getting his daughters ready to go out, telling his sons to put on something comfortable since they’re going out to dinner.

Now that both of his girls are ready, he’s simply waiting on his sons. Toji knows that Megumi is somewhat ready, but he isn’t sure about Ryo.

“Aimi, baby, can you wait downstairs while I check on your brother?” Toji asks his five-year-old, and she nods in response. Toji has to talk to his son alone, but he can’t do so with the two-year-old that’s on his hip. He knows that Aimi isn’t going to cause any trouble, but the little one that he holds is either going to get hurt or cause a big mess. He’s dismissed the nanny, and he can’t exactly leave her alone with Aimi.

Before making his way to Ryo’s room, Toji walks over to Megumi’s door. He harshly knocks on the door and puts Emi down in front of it, as if Toji were the stork himself. Emi is about to run after her papa but Megumi opens the door, and she squeals when she sees her beloved older brother.

“What?!” Megumi yells down the hallway when he spots his father. Megumi picks up Emi from the floor, ensuring that she doesn’t run away.

“I’m going to talk to Ryo! Make sure she doesn’t get hurt!” Toji responds, and Megumi sighs. Not that he particularly minds, but Toji could’ve at the very least waited until Megumi had her in his arms. Megumi clicks his tongue, shaking his head in disappointment before telling his sister,

“What are we going to do with him?” And she shrugs in response.

“I don’t know.” She answers, which makes Megumi laugh. He walks out of the room and goes downstairs to join his other sister.

Toji stands in front of Ryo’s door. He knocks but he’s met with no response. Toji isn’t willing to respect his kids’ privacy, not when he pays for everything they have. Toji opens the door to the room, finding Ryo in his pajamas, playing with his console. Perhaps this would be the perfect time to have a heart-to-heart with his son, explain everything that’s going on– But would Toji really think of that right away?

“Change. We’re going out.” It’s an order, and Ryo doesn’t like it. He’s about to ignore Toji but Toji snatches the console that’s in the boy’s hands. “Don’t act like a fucking brat. Change. We’ve taught you better.”

“I’m staying with mom.” Ryo mutters, angrily getting out of bed to do as his father says. Toji won’t lie and say that the words don’t hurt him, but he remains stoic.

“Hurry up. Your siblings are waiting.” Toji says before leaving the room, the console in his hand. He has to hide it before leaving.

“No more.” Emi pushes her plate away after taking a few bites of the food she ordered. She’s barely eaten, Toji wants to make sure that at the very least she finishes a chicken tender.

“Can you at least finish this, please? You’ve barely eaten, princess.” Toji asks her, but she shakes her head. Toji has to find a way to bribe her, but first he has to deal with Megumi and Aimi who bicker about… Something.

“Chew with your mouth closed, don’t be gross.” Megumi corrects her, but Aimi isn’t going to listen to someone who isn’t her mother… Occasionally she listens to Toji, but it’s rare.

“I don’t care!” She yells, and Toji’s face slowly gets red with embarrassment. People are slowly looking at the table– It’s funny because he really thought that having Megumi here would be useful. Instead, he’s yelling back and forth with his five-year-old sister.

“You’re nasty, Aimi!”

“Your face is nasty!”

“Will you two quiet down?!” Toji half yells. His eyes linger on Megumi, “Remind me how old you are.”

“Sixteen.” Megumi answers, reality setting in when he says his age. His cheeks slowly turn pink as he waits for his father to say his next sentence.

“And you’re arguing with a five-year-old? Loudly, in a restaurant, dare I add.” Toji says, and Megumi pushes his plate away because he’s suddenly lost his appetite. Toji hadn’t realized just how hard it was to deal with all four kids without any help– Well, three kids since Ryo isn’t talking. He’s not doing anything. Toji clears his throat before asking, “Do you like the food, Ryo?”

Ryo doesn’t answer, and it’s slowly driving Toji to his limit. He’s talking to everybody but Toji, the moment Toji addresses him, he goes silent. Toji looks at Megumi and points at Emi, “Get your sister to eat.”

“Ryo, talk to me. Your mom and I are fine.” Toji claims, but Ryo doesn’t say anything because things clearly aren’t fine– After all, everyone is talking about it. Toji is essentially ruining the family by running off with his co-star.

“Ryo, do you want my leftovers?” Aimi asks her big brother and he hums in response, taking the plate from her. Toji takes a deep breath to remain calm. Ryo technically didn’t even say a word, he just hummed in response, Toji can’t be mad about that. Then Aimi asks, “Do you think daddy will get dessert? I think they have ice cream.”

“The key lime pie is better, plus we have ice cream at home.” Ryo argues and Toji gets an idea on how to get his son to talk to him.

“Do you really want the key lime pie? I thought you liked cheesecake better.” Toji comments, and Ryo doesn’t answer. He proceeds to talk to his little sister, and Toji can’t take it. He slams his hand on the table and causes a scene, “For fuck’s sake, Ryo! Don’t ignore me!”

If all eyes weren’t on them before, they definitely are now. The cherry on top is Megumi who tells Emi, “See, he’s going to do that to you if you don’t finish what’s on your plate.”

Emi begins to cry her little heart out, and Toji lets out the biggest sigh. Curse the day he decided to have kids.

“I’m not going to do anything to you, Emi.” Toji says, but she’s crying and stuffing her face out of fear. Everyone is looking at him, some people surely recognize him. At least this fits the narrative that his family is falling apart, and while it was all a stunt at first, it’s starting to feel real.

It’s his fault, he can’t blame anyone else but himself.

“Finish up, we’re going home.” Toji sounds defeated, and he is. Taking the kids out to dinner should not be this hard.

“What about dessert?” Aimi’s voice is filled with disappointment.

“Dessert isn’t happening because you kids don’t know how to behave.” Toji answers, and Aimi crosses her arms, a pout on her lips. Toji wanted to make things better with his kids, but unknowingly, he’s made them worse.

“Night, night, princess.” Toji kisses Aimi’s forehead, but she doesn’t care to even acknowledge him. She doesn’t say anything, turning to her side so she doesn’t have to look at him. Toji sighs, “You’re ignoring me too, huh?”

She doesn’t say anything, which doesn’t really upset Toji. She’s just mad that she didn’t get dessert, tomorrow she’ll be fine with him again. He kisses her temple before telling her, “I love you.”

He knows waiting for an answer is useless, so he turns off the lamp and walks out of the door. Aimi will eventually get out of bed and run after him to apologize because she feels bad since she loves her daddy so much.

Toji closes the door, and he looks for Ryo’s console. Once the console is in his hand, Toji goes to his son’s room. Toji doesn’t bother knocking because he knows he won’t get a response. Ryo has the lights turned off, trying to sleep since there’s nothing better for him to do. But Toji knows that the child isn’t sleeping, he’s just like you, he tosses and turns a million times in the night before actually succumbing to slumber.

“Here’s the console, kiddo. Thanks for going out with us tonight.” Toji says, putting the console on Ryo’s dresser before walking over to his side to press a kiss on Ryo’s temple. Toji hears some sniffling coming from his son, which makes the man want to fall to his knees and cry as well.

Toji has four kids, he’s heard them cry many times before for trivial things. He’s never really felt this before with one of them because he really wasn’t at fault. He was doing things for their own good… But this time he’s doing all of this for his own selfish reasons.

“My baby boy, please talk to me.” Toji kneels down by the bed, hoping that his son will finally say something to him. It’s killing him slowly, he just wants to talk to him. Toji doesn’t want his kid to hate him, but it feels like Ryo is slowly getting there.

“I don’t want you and mommy to get a divorce.” Ryo finally speaks up, and Toji’s heart breaks when he hears him call you mommy, considering Ryo started calling you mom the day he turned eight. Toji stops kneeling, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

“Everything is fine between me and your mommy.” Toji says although it’s hard to believe. They’re not fine, but you’re not getting a divorce either. “We just have to talk things out, but we’re not getting a divorce.”

“All of my friends are talking about you and how you two will end up splitting.” Ryo finally sits up on the bed, and Toji doesn’t really understand why this is even a topic of conversation for Ryo’s friends, but it is and Toji has to deal with it. “And it’s your fault.”

It is, Toji can’t really say otherwise. But he isn’t splitting up the family– At least not by having an affair like the news claim.

“Ryo, I promise you that your mom and I are not splitting up.” Toji tries to reassure his son, but Toji isn’t all too sure himself. “We are having some issues, but it’s not because of what your friends are telling you. What they’re telling you is not real.”

“But–” He’s about to keep going but Toji has to cut him off. Toji can’t keep defending himself, he keeps using the same argument over and over again and he doesn’t know how many times he can actually say the same words.

“Did you ask your mommy about this?” Toji asks, and his son nods in response. Ryo has asked a million times and you always have the same answer.

“Yeah… She said that you two were okay.” He replies, yet he doesn’t believe a single word of it. Toji is growing frustrated, but he can’t let it show. His whole job is to pretend to be someone else, to act out certain feelings and suppress the actual emotions that run through his body, he should be able to do that, right?

“Then why don’t you believe us? Your friends don’t know what’s happening in our relationship.” Toji points out, but that’s not enough for Ryo.

“I know mommy was lying.”

“What do you mean? Did she tell you she was lying?” Toji’s confused. Ryo is ten, he’s not smart enough to spot a lie, especially from you. You’re a damn good actress, when you show your emotions it’s on purpose, and Toji doubts you were purposely showing your emotions.

“I was going to ask her something and I saw her crying…” Ryo confesses, and Toji furrows his eyebrows. He’s certainly hasn’t heard that, but Toji clears his throat before arguing,

“You do know that your mom has a completely different life and she could’ve been crying for something that doesn’t involve me, right?” Toji is sure that the crying had to do with him, but he isn’t going to let that be known. Ryo nods in response, since what his father says does make sense. Toji ruffles his son’s hair before kissing his forehead, “Next time you’re mad at me, don’t give me the silent treatment.”

“I won’t.” Ryo answers, although neither of them are too sure that he’ll keep up with his word. Toji stands up and gives the gaming console to his son, and Ryo wastes no time in taking it.

“You can stay up late tonight.” Toji tells him, which puts a smile on his face. Toji also walks away with a smile on his lips, feeling victorious after getting his son to talk to him. Toji exits the room, gently shutting the door behind him.

Toji begins his walk to Megumi’s room, planning to check up on him. However, when his hand touches the doorknob, he feels a pair of tiny arms wrap around his leg. He looks down to find his five-year-old hugging him. He chuckles, “What’s up, Aimi?”

“Papa, I’m sorry. I love you too.” Tears are streaming down her face, feeling guilty about not telling her daddy that she loves him back. Toji picks her up from the ground, wiping her tears away and kissing her cheek.

“My little princess, I’ll get you some ice cream tomorrow.” He assures her, rubbing her back. She continues to wipe her tears because once they begin, they’re hard to stop. He takes her back to her room, reads her a story and puts her to bed once again.

Toji continues what he was doing, checking up on his kids before going to bed himself. He waits for you, but it gets late. His eyes are closing on their own and before he knows it, he falls asleep. He’s getting old.

“Toji, baby–” You’re calling out to him. It takes a moment for him to open his eyes, but they open rapidly when he feels you kissing his cheeks. It’s definitely nice to feel you kissing him after barely acknowledging him the last couple of days. Still, he can’t help but question,

“Are you drunk?” You keep kissing him. He doesn’t smell any alcohol on your breath, but that doesn’t really answer anything. He feels your hand go down his torso to his sweatpants. You’re just incredibly horny, that’s a good enough reason. Your hand goes to his sweatpants, wrapping around the base of his cock before lazily stroking it. “What happened to you? What have you done to my wife?”

“I just need you. Need you so bad.” You say in between kisses. Your lips are on his neck, and Toji really can’t complain. He misses your touch so much– But what the hell happened to you? You were barely talking to him a couple of hours ago; either you’re on something or something happened to you.

“What happened, baby?” He stops you. Your hand comes out of his hands and you get on top of him. Your lips go on his, your tongue quickly entering his mouth and pressing against his. You’re avoiding the answer, and Toji grows worried. You’re grinding on him, and it’s hard for him to have a clear mind when all the blood rushes to his dick. He doesn’t remember the last time he touched you. You’ve been so mad at him that you shut him down the moment that he initiates something.

Toji wants to enjoy it, and his body is but his mind thinks about the fact that nothing has been solved. He’s not done anything to apologize to you, so he immediately thinks that you’ve done something. It takes every bit of him to push you away even though he doesn’t want to. You’re so gorgeous while you’re on top of him like this, that he doesn’t want to ask the question but he has to, “What did you do?”

“What do you mean what did I do?” You furrow your brows, and Toji clicks his tongue. He can’t believe that you’re initiating something and he’s stopping it. One week ago he would’ve been beating himself up for passing up on this opportunity, but he has to know why you changed your mind.

“You’ve been mad at me, and now you’re all over me when I haven’t apologized.” Toji points out, and you suck in your bottom lip between your teeth. That confirms that you’ve done something bad, and his heart beat speeds up, thinking of the worst.

“I met a guy…” You begin and Toji’s heart breaks. He doesn’t need to hear the rest of it because he knows. Tears well up in his eyes and he tries to take a deep breath. Yeah, he knew his actions would have consequences but not this. “We flirted a bit, just having fun and then he invited me back to his place–”

“You don’t have to–” Toji is about to cut you off, and he’s reasonably thinking the worst.

“I didn’t go back with him. I remembered the amazing husband I have, how much I love him, how amazing he is at everything he does. I wasn’t going to risk losing you even though I’m mad at you.” You have to interrupt him before he gets into his head. You press a subtle kiss on his jaw before your lips go to his ear, “But if you see some headlines tomorrow, don’t get mad at me.”

“You scared the shit out of me.” He chuckles. He guesses he’s getting a taste of his own medicine, but he’s not mad after his initial scare. Your lips go back on his, but they don’t last long before moving down his neck and torso. Your mouth kisses to his nipple, your tongue circling around it which makes him bite down his lip.

Toji is sensitive. Just about anything will make him cum. You continue to kiss down his body until his sweatpants obstruct your path. You desperately push them down, while Toji reaches for the lamp to turn it on. He has a particular love for watching you while you take care of him.

Your hand wraps around the base while you spit on his cock. You stroke his cock a couple of times before your tongue circles the tip of his cock. You take your time working him up before you lower your mouth on his cock, taking in as much as you can take.

If Toji had known that this is how his night would’ve ended by letting you go out, he wouldn’t have tried to talk you out of it. A pathetic moan leaves his lips, feeling your warm mouth wrapped around him. He’s missed this, fuck.

He wants to push your head down, forcing you to take all of him– Which he normally does, but it’s not going to end well. Toji knows well that you’ll stop, and he won’t risk that tonight. This is a sweet treat that he doesn’t deserve, he’s not going to risk losing it.

You try to take all of him in your mouth either way, tears building up in your eyes as you gag, eventually spilling and messing up the makeup that was already coming apart. This is what Toji loves, watching the makeup that you work so hard on, fall apart just for him. And you do it because you want to. Because you love the taste of him on your tongue.

You take him out of your mouth, using your hand to stroke his cock. Toji’s moaning with your every touch, it’s hard not to. You’re just so fucking perfect with everything you do that it’s hard for him to contain himself.

“Baby, please–” He sounds so pathetic. Toji is usually much meaner in this situation, but circumstances have obviously changed. He just wants to feel your mouth wrapped around his cock. “Use your mouth, baby. Please–”

“How can I say no to you?” You chuckle before your mouth wraps around his cock again. You take as much as you can take, your hand stroking what your mouth can’t reach. He’s shutting his eyes, moaning your name as his climax approaches.

His cum hits the back of your throat, and you raise your head. You swallow it, sticking your tongue out so he can check it. Toji sits up, his hand going down to your chin, thumb into your mouth. The bit of submissiveness that you had witnessed quickly fades.

“Who’s my good girl?” He asks, your tongue circling around his thumb. He wants to know what happened that has you so aroused, but as long as you didn’t get physical, he doesn’t care. He takes his thumb out, a string of your saliva connecting it to your lips. He orders, “Open your mouth.”

As soon as your mouth opens, he spits in it. You don’t waste a second before swallowing. Toji lips meet yours again, his tongue messily entering your mouth and pressing against yours. You readjust your legs, knees on either side of him. You’re grinding on him again, and the man pulls away from the kiss, not doing so without biting your lip first.

“You want me to fuck you, baby? You need me?” He asks as you push your panties to the side. You’re aligning him with your entrance, softly moaning as you push yourself down on him. You can’t wait any longer, you desperately need him. You softly moan as he fills you up, your eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head. You’re sure no one will ever feel as good as Toji.

“Was thinking so much about you, baby. I missed you, Toji.” You moan, throwing your head back. You give yourself a moment to get adjusted to him before moving back and forth on his cock. His cock brushes your sweet spot, driving you insane.

Toji shuts his eyes, getting lost in the moment. He’s missed you so much too, but he can’t speak right now because he’s groaning. He can’t believe that he’s gone so long without you… He shouldn’t have agreed to doing that publicity stunt in the first place.

“You feel so fucking good, baby.” Toji moans, his hands going to your hips as you move on him. He hands roam, looking for the zipper of your dress, pulling it down so he can take your dress off you. His lips go to yours, your moans translating into his lips.

You’re bouncing on him, his lips going down to suck on your neck. You let your moans roam into the air, feeling overwhelmed with how good you’re feeling. Toji barely even tries and he makes you feel euphoric. Maybe you were having second thoughts, but then you remembered just how perfect your husband is.

Toji pulls out, putting you down on the bed. He puts your legs on his shoulders before sliding back into you. He sets the pace, much faster than how you were going. Your hands are gripping the bed sheets, loudly moaning as your husband pounds into you.

“You’re so perfect, baby. You’re everything to me.” He praises you while one hand goes to play with your clit. You’re almost at your limit, and he feels it as your cunt squeezes around him. He says through gritted teeth, “You’re so fucking tight.”

“Oh fuck, Toji– I’m gonna–” You announce, so close to reaching your peak.

“I know, baby– fuck, I know.” He groans. You’re driving him insane, it’s the effect that you have on him after not being with him for a while. God knows he needed this.

You loudly moan his name, your legs quivering when you reach your high. It’s hard for you to last when his cock reaches deep, and reaches all the right spots. Toji can’t help but praise you when you come, “That’s my good girl, that’s my fucking good girl.”

Toji’s thrusts begin to get sloppy, even though he wants to stay buried inside you for as long as he can. His hands hold on to your hips, nails digging into your soft flesh.

“Inside of me, baby, do it inside me.” You tell him, knowing he’s nearing his release. You need to feel his warmth in every possible way, and Toji isn’t going to turn you down, certainly not with this.

Toji comes to a stop, groaning before filling you up with his warm cum. He stays buried inside of you until making sure every droop is inside of you. His lips go down to yours, kissing you as he pulls out.

“I’ve missed you, love.” He says before you both get comfortable in bed. You’ll wait a minute before going to the bathroom to clean yourself up.

“For the record, I’m still mad at you.” You say before kissing his cheek, causing him to laugh. You stand up, walking to the bathroom to take a shower before going to bed, and he follows behind because he’s truly lost without you.

“You’re here late.” He points out, unsure of what to say next.

“When you don’t have the kids with you, things go surprisingly smooth… Speaking of, how was your night?” You get in the shower, and Toji is staring. He’s watching every single one of your movements, even when he tries to tear his eyes away, he can’t. You're just so perfect in every way, how can he look away?

“Why did we have so many kids? They made the night so difficult.” Toji shares, and he hears you laugh. It’s no surprise to you, you’ve handled the kids on your own so many times before, and you always swear that you won’t even think of having another one– But then Emi comes to you with her teddy bear and begs for cuddles which makes you reconsider.

“Welcome to my world.” You respond, and Toji chuckles. He lightly bites down his lip, debating if he wants to go back to bed. He really doesn’t, so he decides to join you in your shower.

“So you’re less mad?” He asks, grabbing your sponge and pouring some body wash on it. Toji kisses your shoulder before he begins lightly scrubbing your body. You hum in response, and he can only wonder what you were up to– But he can’t complain. He couldn’t care less what you were doing as long as you’re not mad at him.

“I’m still upset though, don’t get me wrong.” You say as you take the sponge from his hand and use it on him. You peck his lips before muttering, “My husband has still been misbehaving, I won’t forgive him so easily.”

Toji doesn’t know how to come back from that so easily, so he ponders his answer. He helps you clean up.

“I talked to Ryo.” Toji announces, and you cock your eyebrow. Before you can ask about the details, Toji explains everything to you, ending off his sentence with, “Why were you crying?”

“Life gets tough when your husband is allegedly cheating on you.” You answer, and Toji bites his tongue. You have said a million times how you hate this arrangement, and Toji has been too selfish to consider your emotions. It’s not like you’ve been silent about how much you hate this. He can’t exactly be too mad at the fact that you’ve been ignoring him when it’s deserved.

“I’m sorry, baby.” Is all he manages to say. You turn off the water, and get out of the shower, Toji following your lead again, even though he’s barely washed himself. You have your towel wrapped around him, while he opts out of getting his towel.

“I think you’ll need a bigger apology, but I guess sex is good too.” You answer, but that’s not enough for him.

“I’ll call my agent and tell him that it’s off.” He says, and you stop in your tracks.

“No! You’ve already done this much, the premiere is soon. Stick with it for now and just clear up your name after.” You’re quick to object. That movie better do great after all you’ve been through for this. You’ve suffered for months, you can put up with some more judgment for another month or so.

“But now I feel horrible.” He responds, and you sigh. “I want to apologize.”

You take a couple of steps toward him, your hands meeting behind his neck. You kiss his lips before telling him, “Another little Emi will suffice.”

“Woman, how dare you?! After the night I’ve had, that thought makes my dick flaccid. Don’t you ever suggest having more kids!” He argues, and you look down. His words certainly don’t match his feelings.

“Are you sure about that?” You ask him, and he sighs. He isn’t going to lie to you, and he isn’t going to tell you that you’re right, so he does the next best thing, picking you up and carrying you to the bed.

You have a long night of apologies ahead of you.

2K notes · View notes

rwrbsource · 11 months

Text

matthewlopez: One of my favorite moments in Casey McQuiston’s novel is when Henry explains himself to Alex in an email, using the literary tradition of a fairy tale. I wanted to get that idea into the movie and so I wrote this scene inspired by that moment in the book. I ended up cutting it as we didn’t ultimately learn anything we didn’t already know/intuit and because the three and a half minutes the scene runs was ultimately hindering our momentum. It was a painful but necessary cut and I’m happy to finally share the scene with you all. The speech ran over a page and half in the shooting script and Nick performed it beautifully in a single extended take that we then got coverage on for the end. For those of you who know the film (and there are a few of you), it was intended to go after the scene between Alex and Oscar in the kitchen and before the scene on the raft. I hope you enjoy!

#rwrb #rwrb movie #red white and royal blue #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #matthew lopez #movie #bts #deleted scene #**

2K notes · View notes

peachysunrize · 3 months

Text

The other Woman ⥃ senator! Aemond Targaryen

Summary: you were supposed to be a secret, his temptation in the dark not his scandal after the taste of heaven you experienced together.

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut smut, like literally so much smut, p in v, angst (so much angst), age gap (Aemond is 36 reader is 25. It’s not specified but since he’s a candidate he should be over 35), cheating & infidelity, heavy alcohol consumption (one scene), breeding, humiliation (a little bit), oral (f & m receiving ), rough sex, illicit affair, modern westerosi senator Aemond (doing this because I have no idea about real life election and political debates and how they take place and I can change it however I like), near death experience, car accident and driving while drunk, hurt/comfort, happy ending!! English isn’t my first language.

Word count: 8.58k+ (no beta we die like Beesburybury)

A/n: so, this thought was originally a very dark concept, but I changed it because now it’s much more interesting than the first one lol. Long, smutty, angst! The whole political idea is a sideline for the plot but it gives you an idea of what kind of Aemond we’re dealing with! Please reblog and comment and tell me your opinion!

A very special thank you to @namelesslosers for putting up with my crazy ideas<3😭💕

Every time you walk through this hallway, you ask yourself how you got into this situation. Perhaps it was at the first debate when you met him backstage; tall, dark, brooding, and quiet with a lazy smirk on his thin lips, as he pressed a gentle kiss atop your knuckles, side-eyeing your seething father in the process.

Maybe it was when you ran into him at another party, courtesy of being a senator's daughter and getting invited with high-class families. Your father had sent you there, “showing face” he explained, but you knew he wanted information. Aemond had danced around you that night, knowing exactly why you were there, talking and leading you on with conversations in the dark hallway of the mansion you were in.

It could have been the second debate as well. This time, it was not just backstage, but when he saw you in that denty dress you were wearing, he had cornered you and kept his heated gaze on your lips for a hot minute before he reached and pressed his thumb over your pillowy bottom lip.

Does it matter how it started? Certainly not, not when it’s been a good few months since this thing has been going on.

You stop in front of the hotel room; the only suite on the floor. Always cautious, always careful. You’ve been sneaking into this floor for weeks, entering the hotel from the back door to not be seen, taking the workers’ elevator and now, alone in the middle of this red carpeted floor, you ask yours again how you got yourself into this position. And the second you knock, all the worries and fears vanish.

Aemond opens the door, his cigarette burning between his long fingers as he gazes at you. His white shirt is untucked and unbuttoned, his dress pants already tightened by his bubbling desire for you while he waited for hours to get out of his speech and meet with you.

He doesn’t say anything, pulling you in with his free hand, kicking the door shut before he pushes you against it, leaning over you with his forearm on the door and the other on your hip.

“Rough day?” You ask, running your palms over the pale skin of his abs, caressing his chest and stomach as you look up at him through your lashes.

“Your father was unnerving today,” he rests his forehead on yours, breathing in your perfume, “I broke the pen when he started talking about how he’d do everything I wanted to do but better. Who makes a political debate like that? He can’t even stand for what he has planned to do.”

“He has the talent of getting under everyone’s skin, it doesn’t help that he’s a jealous man as well,” you cup his cheek, running the pad of your thumb over his high cheekbones.

“He does, a trait I’m sure I have seen in someone as well,” he bends down, prepping kisses over your cheek, “he told me I was too perfect to become a president. I have no fucking idea what he is after. He talks about me all the time instead of his plans, I think he’s obsessed with me.”

“Pity, I would have loved to see his face when he said that, knowing that the person he called perfect fucks his daughter every day,” you giggle when he bites down on your neck, making you hiss and thread your fingers through his long blonde hair.

“What were you doing if you weren't watching me beat your father to the pulp?” He keeps his assault on your neck, leaving marks and little swollen bites. He breaks away from your skin to take a drag of his cigarette, wrapping his thin pink lips around the paper edges as he inhales the smoke in, a deep hum drumming through his chest when he leans and presses his lips to yours, blowing the smoke into your eager mouth.

You pull him closer, lapping at his tongue while you inhale the burning smoke, moaning in protest when he breaks the kiss sooner than you wished for. You blow out the remaining smoke to his face, biting your bottom lip as you find his good eye taking every inch of you in with his blown and foggy pupil.

“I was buying pretty dresses for you,” you whisper against his lips before grabbing his hand and pulling him gently toward the bedroom, watching with hazy eyes as he inhales another pile of smoke, keeping his eye locked on the exposed skin of your shoulders.

He loves it when you wear dresses that leave your neck and shoulders bare; it’s tantalizing and alluring in the best way possible. They make him lose the tiny self-control he has and let go of his burdens and responsibilities. He likes how free you make him feel, younger and livelier.

“Hmm?” You giggle when he doesn’t realize what question you are responding to, already too drunk on your scent that has his mind in a mush.

“You asked what I was doing,” you guide him towards the bed, “I was shopping for your upcoming party, Mr. Senator. I have a public image to maintain.” “Yes, but not with flaunting yourself like a slut,” he hisses when you push him down on the mattress, and he takes his cigar and puts it out by pressing it on the ashtray atop his nightstand with a bit of difficulty.

“Don’t be mean, sir,” faking a pout, you unzip your dress slowly, knowing how possessive he can get even though you are not his in the eyes of the public, “it’s all for you anyway, I like to see your face when I come with my friends to your mansion, all dolled up just for you but no one can know.” “Ah yes, I often forget how much you enjoy being my mistress,” he says, licking his lips when you kick off your shoes and crawl onto his lap, his large warm palms coming up to rest on your bare hips.

“Don’t put all the blame on me, you said you’d never slept with your wife!” You push him on his back, grinning as you let your nails deep in his soft exposed skin, “You were the one who begged me to sleep with you anyway!”

“Hmm, and I’m glad that I did,” he smirks at you, pinching your hips, making you gasp, “now, I’ve had a very rough day with your father, be a good girl and take my mind off everything else that isn’t your sweet pussy.”

You nod obediently before starting to grind your clothed sex over the tent in his pants, moving your hips slowly but firmly, eliciting a deep groan from Aemond as he lies beneath you with his silver hair spread around his head like a shiny halo. You lean down, leaving kisses over his chest and abdomen as you slowly lower yourself on the floor, running your hands all over his thighs and slim waist, nuzzling your face into his crotch, and looking at him oh so sweetly when he sits up.

Aemond pushes your hair out of your face, running the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip as he watches you prep kisses over the fabric of his pants, fingers fidgeting with his belt, and once you have successfully undid it, you pull it out of the loops and drop it on the floor.

He chuckles lowly when you grab his zipper with your teeth, pulling it down slowly while you stare into his eye — the blue of his iris is completely gone. You pull his pants down when he unbuttons them, lifting his hips in the process for you. Aemond sighs as soon as his cock is free from the confines of his pants, closing his eye as the cool air of the room hits his heated skin.

“No underwear?” You tease him, reaching to hold his hot and twitching member in your hand, stroking it to full hardness while your free hand rubs soothing circles on his hip bone.

“The weather is too hot to wear anything under these horrendous dress pants,” he replies breathlessly when you lean down and start trailing kitten kisses from the base of his cock up to his tip, humming at the earthy and musky scent.

“And here I thought you were too desperate to give me easy access,” you mutter, taking his tip in your mouth, not letting him come up with a witty answer.

Aemond leans on his elbows, his hand finding its place on top of your head, not pushing down, but just to show you who’s in charge. His chest rises and falls rapidly when you swirl your tongue around him slowly, rubbing the tip of your tongue on the right places that you know make him weak and needy.

He groans, pushing your head down a little; a quick warning for you to remember that a dragon has no patience when the smell of fresh meat fills its senses.

You oblige, taking more of him in your mouth, relaxing your jaw, and guiding him further down your throat with both hands on the base of his cock, stroking what you can’t fit. He angles your face upwards, forcing you to look him in the eye as he fills your mouth and stretches your jaw with his girth.

“I will never get tired of this sight, fuck—” he throws his head back, his exhales getting sharper and deeper, “If only your father could see you like this; his daughter sucking off his enemy like it’s her last meal.”

You moan around him, brows twisted in a deep frown and eyes teary as he pushes you down, bobbing your head along his length at a pace he likes. In return, he rewards you with grunts and puffs of air that rumble through his chest and make you even more determined to bring him closer to his peak, but he pulls you off him as soon as he feels his dick twitching in your mouth, not wanting to come before he fucks you senseless.

You gasp for air when he pulls out, a string of saliva connecting your swollen lips to the head of his glistening cock. He pulls you up by your hair, smashing his lips into yours, pulling you in for a deep messy kiss as he helps you straddle him again. You sit with your knees on each side of his hips, cupping his face in the process while your lips move languidly, fiercely, and harshly. The kiss is full of clashes of teeth and molding of tongues and wetness, something you both enjoy deeply.

Aemond’s hands wander over your naked form, squeezing your buttocks and scratching the dip of your waist with his trimmed nails before he switches your position and lies you down on the bed without breaking off the kiss. Spreading your legs for him, he moves and makes home between them quickly, rubbing his leaking cock to your clothed pussy, growling inside your mouth in desperation.

You pull your lips away from his lips, mouth falling open immediately when he nuzzles his face into your neck and starts sucking and biting on your flesh like a rabid dog, not letting go of your skin until he’s sure there are big and small blue and violet marks littered all over you.

“Fuck, Aemond just—ah!” You whimper when his long fingers rub over the wet patch on your panties, pressing and moving them up and down until you buck your hips to his hand, searching for more stimulation that he is depriving you of.

“Tsk tsk, use your words, darling,” he says, sinking his teeth into your earlobe while he moves your panties to the side, hovering his thumb over the hood of your clit, “how can I give into your every whim when you can’t speak up for you so?” He sounds disappointed, and it only brings tears to your eyes — more tears, considering he had you near crying when he was fucking your face.

“Please, I-I need…” you are cut off by a sharp gasp leaving your lips as Aemond’s thumb rubs around your puffy clit, not giving into your sweet whines and whimpers, not even caring how tempting they sound.

“Sweet girl, come on, tell me, do you want me to play with your pretty cunt? Hmm?” He asks in a serious tone, too serious for your liking, because when you look up at him with pouting and watery eyes, he tsks again, and you can feel the heat of his thumb near where you need him the most, but his finger is too far away.

“Yes, yes, please—“

“There is my good girl,” he kisses your tears away, finally caving in and giving you what you need, circling over your buzzing nerves gently but slowly, just the right way to have your mind shutting off to the point of the only thought that is left is him and his magical fingers.

You buck beneath him, wrapping one arm around his shoulder and the other one grabbing his waist as he keeps his thumb pressed firmly into your clit, pressing kisses all over your tear-stained cheeks.

“Mmm, tastes so sweet, darling,” he whispers as he licks your tears, pushing a finger inside you as if testing the waters before adding another, scissoring your open for his cock slowly, thrusting them in and out faster than before.

“Aemond, please, I’ve been good!”

Your voice awakens something in him, something primal and hungry, ready to devour you whole. He groans in response, leaning down to kiss you feverishly, retrieving his fingers from you only to replace them with the tip of his cock, running it up and down against your drenched folds before pressing in slowly.

He pulls away from your lips, giving both of you time to catch your breath and relax as he carves his way within your gummy walls. You both moan in delight as he finally reaches your deepest parts, his hips flush against yours as the two of you try to catch your breath.

Aemond slowly draws his hips back before driving himself forward, knocking the breath out of your lungs as he gains speed. You fist the bedsheets, back arching in response to him hitting your sweet spot rapidly, drawing ragged breaths and little yelps of pleasure from your parted lips.

“So beautiful, fuck, darling,” he groans into your skin, straightening his back a little to hover his face over yours to look at you from a better angle, “I would set this town on fire for you.” “Aemond, I-I’m close—” You gasp when his finger travels down your stomach and reaches the bundle of nerves and starts rubbing it quickly, drawing you closer to your breaking point.

He isn’t in a better situation either; he is panting with his cock twitching deep inside you as his desire for you overflows his senses.

His rhythm falters as soon as you clamp around him tightly, gushing around him with a shout of his name, which sends him over the edge as well. He pulls out instantly, ignoring the your whine in protest before he sits on his knees next to your head, stroking his cock with his head thrown back.

“Open your mouth, darling—fuck, there she is, good girl…” he groans when you close your eyes and stick out your tongue, catching the ropes of his cum on your face and tongue. He whimpers out your name, his shoulders relaxing finally, tension leaving his body as he empties himself on you.

“Messy girl,” he taunts you, reaching to pull a napkin out of the nightstand’s drawer, lying down next to you to wipe his cum off your face gently, his other hand caressing your bare stomach and breasts to soothe you through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“You made a mess out of me, baby,” you say, smiling softly when he leans down to peck your lips after dropping the napkin back in its place, pushing his pants and shirt fully off to join you under the covers.

“Aemond?” you call him, laying your head on his chest when he pulls you closer, “I’m tired of this.”

“This? What do you mean?” he asks, his fingers tracing meaningless patterns on your back while he waits for you to answer him.

“This game of cat and mouse, always sneaking in, my father this my father that… I’m tired of being just a secret.” “You knew what you were getting yourself in when we first slept with each other,” Aemond huffs, “It’ll always be like this, darling. We would have to spend our days away from everyone.” “But Aemond, we can go on dates in so many ways! Please, we can go on a trip to Lys, no one knows you there, and we will leave all of this election and your political worries in King’s Landing!” You try to reason with him, turning around in his arms to look into his eye.

“Sweet girl, he reaches to push a strand of your hair behind your ear, “There is not much time left until the—”

“— election, I know. But you can spare three days to stay with me. Don’t you think it’s worth it?”

“Our lives and future will be ruined if we get caught. It will cause a huge scandal that I and my team are not ready to face. I might become the next president of Westeros, I need to win over your father.” He explains logically, and you feel stupid for mentioning the idea of going out and being seen in public with him.

“I’m sorry, I know… it was a dumb idea.” you avert your eyes away from him, biting your bottom lip as guilt and shame fills you. “Hey, look at me,” he gently switches positions so you lay beneath him again, “I wish we could go on dates and I had the chance to show you off. Maybe after all of this mess, I’ll be able to divorce my wife, but till then… As long as I have you in my arms, nothing matters.”

•••••••••••••••••••••••

The days pass quickly. You watch your father and Aemond in the news, paparazzi following you and your family around the city bombarding you with questions about things you didn’t care about. Until one day, your father receives an invitation from Aemond Targaryen himself for a party at his house.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise when your father called you and asked — more like demanding — that you should be the one attending this party. After all, he couldn’t put himself past that hatred to go to this party in his rival’s house. Apparently, his daughter could though, as if it wasn’t dangerous to send you to the dragon’s cave with no support.

You agreed a bit too eagerly, trying to play it off cool and keep calm while you panicked from inside. You’d be saying Aemond again, publicly, without sneaking from a back door, or a secret passageway.

Choosing a dress wasn’t difficult when you had the design of one of Aemond’s mom’s dresses; a knee-length dress in light blue and off-shoulder with a little cut that exposed your lower thigh, knowing how crazy Aemond would get if he saw you in things he has bought for you.

Your curls fall around your shoulders as you walk toward the main entrance of the mansion, catching the attention of all the photographers and guests. You walk up the stairs that lead to the house, eyes searching for the silhouette of the only person you care for in this messy crowd.

You find him easily; his long hair shines underneath the dim light of the hall, and his tall frame and the champagne in his hands stand proudly among the people who look so simple and boring compared to him.

He is wearing a long deep blue coat with thin silver embroideries on it with a black shirt and pants, and next to him… you just catch the eyes of his wife, Floris Baratheon-Targaryen, who is smiling proudly at the ladies and gentlemen surrounding them.

“Ah, love, look who’s here,” she threads her fingers through Aemond’s, excusing themselves as the pair come to greet you. Floris is beautiful with long black hair and a charming smile — no wonder she is Aemond’s wife, the perfect image of a dutiful wife, “It’s such a pleasure to have you here.”

You accept her hand, shaking it gently before you avert your eyes from her to her husband, locking your eyes with his as you try not to let him see any emotion on your face. You are ashamed of yourself, Floris looks like a kind soul, and you have been having an affair with her husband for months, but even now that you have met her, the guilt and shame are not enough for you to step away from what you have with Aemond.

“How is your father? Not too sour I hope,” he smirks, wrapping an arm around Floris’ waist as he has always done with you in the confines of his hotel room.

“Why would he be sour, Mr. Targaryen? Last time I checked the numbers were quite against your favor,” you reply, thanking the waiter who brings you a glass of champagne, “He made sure I show you his gratitude for the invitation. He was horribly upset for not being able to join us tonight.”

“Well, yes,” he chuckles darkly and you can see how his fingers clench the fabric of Floris’ dress, “He is a busy man, he should be thinking of a backup plan after he loses to me.”

“Is that what you are doing, sir? I assume this party…is your way of gaining support now, isn’t it?”

“Aemond,” his wife utters, smiling hesitantly at him, “maybe you should show our new gallery to her, politics can be a hard topic to talk about in such a noisy place.” “Splendid idea, wife,” Aemond kisses Floris’ forehead while his eye is solely focused on you, “Shall we, Miss?” he offers you his arm, looking around the room to see if anyone is paying attention to you or not.

“I would love to,” you say through gritted teeth, an ugly jealousy bubbling inside you as you loop your arm with his, walking side by side to the new gallery. You shouldn’t be feeling like this, it is not your place to have complicated emotions when you are the other woman.

“After you,” he holds the door open for you, his eye scanning you from head to toe, catching the sight of his mother’s designer dress before he leads you inside the gallery, closing the door shut and locking it from inside.

“Didn’t know you were into art, Aemond. It’s a welcoming surprise,” you say, sipping on your drink while you walk past him, not sparing him a glass as you look at the paintings.”

“You need to work on your emotions, darling,” he says, putting his champagne glass on the nearest table he can find before he makes his way to you, “We wouldn’t want everyone to find out how close we actually are.” “No, Aemond, you don’t want that,” you chuckle in disbelief, drinking the rest of the remaining liquor in your glass before you put it on the same table as he did, standing in front of him with a burning rage inside your eyes, “I want them to know! I’m sick of this, I don’t deserve to be a whore for you in secret!”

“This was what we agreed on!” his voice echoes in the room as he grabs you by the nape of your hair, bringing your face closer to his, “whore or not, I can't bear to lose the elections I have been working my whole life for! And I can’t… I can’t lose you either—” You both turn around when a loud banging sound comes from the other side of the room. You look at Aemond in terror, stepping closer to him before you hear the door at the end of the hall is pushed open. He grabs your hand and pulls you toward a narrow and dark hallway that is attached to the gallery. You have a clear view of the paintings and the waiters who are carrying several drinks together, luckily, it can’t be said for them. They would need to round the corner and bend down a little to find this place. Aemond pushes you against the wall, his large palm covering your mouth as footsteps grow quieter when they leave the gallery.

“Aemo—mmh!” he doesn’t let you finish as he silences you with his mouth engulfing yours in a passionate kiss, his fingers clutching your hips like his life depends on touching you, breathing in your scent, and tasting your lipstick.

“Shh, be quiet,” he turns you around, pressing his chest to your back before he reaches down to pull your dress up to your hips, mouthing at your neck as his hand finds the hem of your underwear.

“We shouldn’t do it here, Aemond, we might get caught!” you hiss at him, gasping when he pushes your panties to the side, running the pad of his fingers along your slit, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your face.

“I thought you wanted everyone to know about us, hmm?” He teases you, letting go of your wet folds for a second as he unbuckles his belt, unzips, and pushes his pants down enough to pull his cock out.

“Not like this!” You sigh desperately, hands bracing your weight on the wall when he lines his leaking tip with your entrance, thrusting his full length inside you with ease.

He slaps his hand on your mouth again when he is completely sheathed inside your warm and dripping cunt, muffling your noises as best as he can before he starts thrusting into you with abandon.

In his mind, you look too beautiful, too gorgeous and breathtaking, and the longer he looks at you, the more passionate he is about driving his cock inside you, fucking you with all his love and adoration.

“You make me go fucking crazy,” he nearly growls, his hips pistoning against yours as he nuzzles his nose into your cheek, eye closed and cheeks painted pink. He pushes two of his fingers inside your mouth, his own lips parted as ragged breaths and throaty groans fall from them.

You are a mess just as he is; eyes closed, hips moving with each of his abandoned and reckless thrusts, while your body floats in pleasure. It’s quick, sudden, and mind wrecking; you come with a muffled scream around his thick fingers, and he follows you as soon as your walls tighten around him, squeezing the cum out of his cock.

He presses you to the wall, groaning and panting as he fills you to the brim, his teeth catching your earlobe while he tries to ground himself with all the euphoria running through his veins.

“Aemond,” you pull his digits out of your mouth, resting your head on his shoulders as the two of you try to regain your breaths, heartbeat slowly dropping back to normal.

“Lys…” he says, and you crane your neck to look at him in confusion, “Pack your bag for a few days.”

“What?” You ask, eyes wide and hopeful as you stare at him, he grins in response, planting a sweet kiss on your lips, “We’re going to Lys.”

“Are you serious?”

“Deadly,” He winks at you and pulls his softened cock out of you slowly before he makes himself presentable again, his hands finding their place on your hips once again, “now, don’t sulk anymore. You’re too lovely to be upset because of me.”

“I was not sulking, but… but what about the paparazzi? The election? Are you sure?” You shake a little, maybe both in fear and excitement before you cup his face, staring into his ocean-blue eye.

“Shh, don’t fret, I have thought about everything. No one knows who we are and we’ll stay in a yacht. I have talked to Cole to get it ready for us.”

“You… you are amazing, Aemond!” You crash your lips to him, pressing several kisses to his face, leaving careless red marks on his pale skin.

“Anything for my girl,” he whispers against your lips, chuckling as you keep your assault on his face, “but we should head back to the party. I’m sure they’re looking for me.”

“Yes, yes, of course!” I laugh a little before fixing your hair and sneaking out of your hiding place.

“I’ll meet you outside, alright, sweet girl?” He asks you, pecking your lips before pointing to one of the paintings to make it seem you are still busy looking at the new art hanging on the wall while he unlocks and moves out of the room.

Floris finds him instantly, moving towards him with a man who follows her as well, eager to meet him. Aemond clears his throat when they reach the door of the gallery, pulling him into a conversation he has no choice but to join.

Oblivious to him, his wife’s eyes catch the faint red lipstick stain under his jaw.

•••••••••••••••••••••••

If you were told that this country was this beautiful, you would’ve never believed them. Everything is brighter in color, people have no clue who you are which makes everything much more exciting.

You’ve been in Lys for two days already, fucking on every surface of the yacht, quickies in different places around the city, sightseeing, and spending time together.

It was all you’ve ever wanted from this relationship; some peaceful alone time as a couple, not as a secret.

There is a weird feeling of being watched by someone that has been with you since you stepped inside the city as if someone is following you around. At first, you thought it could be a photographer who somehow caught sight of you and decided to make money out of it. But again, no one knows who either you or Aemond is…

You don’t pay attention to it, but the feeling is still with you as soon as you step on the deck of the yacht, your sundress moving with the wind as you gaze over the sea.

“Not very thoughtful of you to leave me all alone in the bed,” Aemond says, walking towards you with his hands in his pockets, “I missed you already.”

“That’s good to know because I’ve missed you too,” you turn around, moving to the cushions that are secured to the deck before lying down on them, stretching yourself as he stands tall above you, “more so your mouth.”

“Insatiable beast,” he calls you, “what have I done to deserve you?” He drops on his knees and crawls towards you, a wicked grin on his face as he reaches your ankle, grabbing and pulling you towards him with ease.

“Your mouth is a miracle, I’ve been blessed to witness it with my own eyes,” you match his tone, spreading your legs for him.

As soon as his eye falls on your bare pussy, he lets out a long sigh in delight before latching his mouth to the flesh of your thighs, kissing and nibbling as he makes his way up to your center, flattening his lavish tongue against your folds, licking a fat stripe of your wetness before humming and kissing your clit.

You lay back, letting him take care of you slowly, building your pleasure until you break under his touch. He starts with slow licks and kisses, making lews sounds as he gains his speed, fingers digging into the fat of your thighs while he keeps you in place.

Throwing your head back, you moan his name, fingers tangling themselves in his soft silky hair as he speeds up and shoves his face further between your thighs, his large nose nudging your clit in the best way possible.

You open your eyes and look around; the view is mesmerizing. Next to where you are is a huge wood that separates the city from Aemond’s private dock, yet the greens of the trees don’t catch your attention but a sudden flash of light does. It happens again, this time a bit faster, a bit closer. It could be anything, maybe a reflection of light, and you desperately hope that is the case and the flash doesn’t belong to a camera.

Luckily, Aemond’s tongue distracts you from your thoughts, and you arch your back when his thumb joins the patterns he is drawing on your nerves. You look down at him, catching the raw emotions that dance in his eye; adoration, love if you dare say. Soon, when he makes you come, all the thoughts of those mysterious flashes are gone, and only pleasure is left for you to focus on — the knot he created, snaps, and ecstasy rushes in your blood.

“Baby,” you pull him up, chest heaving with delight as your legs stop shaking, “I think I saw someone.”

“No one is allowed here, don’t worry, sweet girl,” he says between kisses on your chest as he makes his way up your stomach to kiss you.

“But it looked like a camera flash,” You kiss him back slowly, lying on your side to face him, “Are you sure no one can go past your guards?” “Yes, please, don’t think about it. It’s just you and me, darling.”

Oh, how wrong he was.

•••••••••••••••••••••••

It’s been twenty days since the last time you heard his voice, twenty days of agony and pain. You were caught, you did not imagine things. The day you arrived at King’s Landing, you saw the news; your pictures from your trip with him were all over the internet, the moment on the night, the kissing in the sea, wandering in the city — your illicit affair was publicized. By whom you have no idea. Maybe Aemond’s wife, maybe your father, but at the end of the day, nothing hurt more than when after days of trying to contact your lover, he broke everything off with a single text from his assistant.

After that, your parents cast you aside; your mom screamed at you while your father cheered in victory. After all, those pictures caused a huge scandal and rift in his rival’s team. He didn’t care what would happen to you as long as you didn’t do anything like this again that would result in his downfall. They closed your bank accounts that they had access to and left you alone on your own. Fortunately, you weren’t too dependent on your father’s money and had persued a career to pay for your necessities, but now, none of it mattered.

Your days pass numbly with hundreds of calls and texts to Aemond. There is nothing left inside you willing to get up and do something, to fix this mess even a little, to pull yourself out of this deep hole you have dug with your hands.

You read the text again as you curl on the loveseat, sobbing and clutching your phone to your chest. Mr. Taragryen has no interest in being involved with you anymore, and the more you read it, the more your body ache for him. It feels like a knife being shoved inside your chest, twisting and ripping your lungs in the process while you melt under the sharpness of it, taking it because you have no choice left but to do so.

You did it to yourself; what were you thinking? How did you ever think that getting involved with an important man was a good idea? A married and much older one at that. Now you scroll through the leaked pictures with a heavy heart and silent tears running down your face. The headlines are cruel, far worse than you had ever thought about.

Whore of a daughter wins the election for the father!

Aemond Targaryen cheats on his wife with his rival’s daughter; several intimate pictures have been caught during their visit to Lys…

Aemond Targaryen, an honorable man seduced by a younger girl, WESTEROSI reports…

You throw your phone on the floor, nearly falling from the loveseat from how aggressively you move. You want to scream from the top of your lungs, to curse and shout, but it was your idea to go somewhere, for him to take you on a date. It is all your fault.

The doorbell rings and startles you. You get up immediately, thinking it must be your parents or one of your friends to come and check up on you, but when you open the door with bloodshot eyes and find Aemond standing there, your knees nearly give out.

“A-Aemond?” you stutter, eyes watering at the sight of his messy clothes and hair — he looks just as fucked up as you.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” with one step, his arms engulf you in a tight embrace, and you cry. Fat ugly tears run down your face as he holds you close, his own tears falling after days of being apart from you. He couldn't stay away, he had to come and see you. Every day without you felt like a lifetime, never-ending torture he had to endure while Criston and his mother did everything they could to save his public image, and Floris, well, she was quite content with everything.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you…” he presses several kisses to the crown of your head, holding you incredibly close to him as he leads you back into your house, shutting the door behind him. You have your arms wrapped around him, holding onto his shoulders as he sits you down on the couch, making sure to pull you into his lap so you won’t feel alone again.

“Aemond?” you ask, your voice so little, so fragile that it breaks his heart into million pieces.

“Yes, darling?” he lifts your head, his thumb wiping your tears gently while he shushes you, watching your lips tremble in disbelief, “Tell me, tell me what I can do to make you feel better.”

“Why did you let go of me so easily?” you ask, fiddling with the collar of his shirt, “I was so alone, I-I am alone, I have no one! How could you—” you hiccup, a sob wrecking your body as you talk.

“I had to, sweet girl, I had to. My public image, my campaign, everything was near destruction if it weren’t for the distance between us. I had to do it.”

“I lost everything, Aemond! My parents, my friends… I was called a whore, your mistress, a side chick. You nearly lost everything, I did lose everything!” you gasp for air as another wave of pain spreads in your chest.

“What can I do for you, darling? I’m here now, I’ll do whatever you wish for me to do, please,” he begs, the first and probably the last time you’ll hear Aemond Targaryen plead for something.

“I love you, Aemond, please make the pain go away.”

He leans down, capturing your mouth in a slow kiss, painting his devotion on the canvas of your lips as he moves them together. He feels you relax in his arms when you start kissing him back. He lies you on the couch gently, never breaking the kiss as he sucks the breath out of your lungs with each passing second that e tastes you.

You melt under his touch, the fingers you adore so much move along the length of your body. His lips let go of yours for a second before he hovers atop you completely and brings you in for another deep kiss. His fingers are cold against your heated skin as they move your shirt upward, to eventually pull the fabric off your head.

He breaks the kiss to trail his lips to your neck, leaving butterfly kisses all over your jaw and collarbones as he moves lower until he reaches your bra. He circles his hand to unhook it, and he does, he pushes the strap on one of your shoulders down slowly before he stops.

Aemond stops.

Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach as he moves his face away from your shoulder to kiss you fiercely for a hot few seconds before he pulls away, shaking his head in shame.

“Ae-Aemond, why did you…” “No…” he says, a few tears fall from his remaining eye as he gazes at you past his wet lashes, “I can’t do this.”

“What do you mean?” your voice quivers, and Aemond stands up immediately when he hears how broken you sound, leaving you half-naked on your couch, “Aemond, please!”

“I can’t make the same mistake twice,” he mutters as he moves toward the entrance door, “I still have a chance. I can win the election, I can—” “A mistake? Do you truly feel we were a mistake?”

“I am sure we were. We have ruined our lives for what? For sex, for lust?”

“For love!” you scream, holding your hand to your chest to prevent your bra from falling, “I didn’t want anything from you; not your money, not any status, I wanted you, just you.”

“I can’t do this—”

“Aemond, please, no!” You cry out running to block his way, “Don’t go, please, don’t leave me again. I can’t take it if you leave me all alone, I have lost everything for you! Please, please—”

He cups your cheek, pressing one last lingering kiss while his own tears fall on your cheek, “Goodbye.” He moves past you and leaves.

“NO!” you break down and fall on your knees, and for once in your life, you feel truly helpless.

•••••••••••••••••••••••

You don’t remember how long has it been since that day; it could be a few days, or months. You don’t even remember how you got into this dingy dirty bar close to your place. It’s dark and gloomy with a heavy rain thrumming outside the window while you drown your sixth shot of bourbon.

You are not an alcoholic, in fact, the only time you drink is at parties and formal events. Tonight though, you need to let go and unwind for a bit and unfortunately, in a very apathetic mood, you decided that drinking was the best option.

The lovely bartender glares at you when you ask for another shot but doesn’t say anything and does as you ask, keeping a close eye on you to make sure you’ll be alright.

You keep staring at the rim of your glass, eyes filled with tears and sorrow until someone slides into the stool next to you. Looking up, you see a familiar face, Aemond’s wife. What is she doing here? Does she want to taunt you even more? To make sure you are suffering far worse than she did? “I see you are adapting well to the new changes,” Floris says, pointing at the bartender to pour her whatever you are drinking.

“Are you following me now?” you scoff, drowning the amber liquid in your glass, “Wasn’t my public humiliation enough for you?”

“You were fucking my husband, of course, it will never be enough. You should suffer for how you ruined his reputation,” she looks at you, waiting for you to come up with a witty reply.

“He said you never slept with each other…” You whisper in response, “He loved me.” “How fucking naive you are. He never loved you, he lied to your face and you still defend him,” she sneers, running a hand through her wild black curls, “He used you, it was all a part of his plans. You were just a pawn in his game.”

“He didn’t… he-he…” you take a deep breath, not wanting to cry in front of Floris of all people. He didn’t do these things, Aemond would never do that to you. He has no reason to, or does he?

“Do you truly think these numbers just go up and down because of the citizens? Aemond changed them to his liking, he has never had the intention of winning this year. He wants to be remembered so he may come back stronger than before and take over Westeros—”

“You don’t make any fucking sense! Leave me alone,” You stand up to move away from her, but she grabs your arms before you have the chance to run away.

“He used you to gain information from your father’s campaign! I just helped him speed things up by hiring those photographers,”

“It was you… you ruined my life,” you pull your hand out of her grip, “You destroyed everything he has worked so hard for! How could you do this to your husband?” “He was cheating on me!”

“So were you! You were cheating too!” you yell at her before grabbing your purse and running out of the bar, crying hysterically. Nothing makes sense, you don’t know how you held that conversation for so long. What she said or what you replied repeats in your head, but it’s all a blur, a mess of words and echoes of high-pitched screams.

You reach your car, stumbling on your feet as you get in with some difficulty. Driving while awfully drunk is not a good decision, but you must get away from Floris, the bar, and everyone. Firing the engine, you pull the car out of the park, driving past the speed limit into the alley without looking around you.

You can’t see, you can’t hear, and all you can do is speed up while heavy tears fall from your eyes once more as you think about everything you shared with Aemond. Was any of it real? Were you a silly fling for him to gain information?

Suddenly, the sound of a horn catches your attention, and you see the light of another car coming your way. You try to break, but every time you press the pedal, the car doesn’t stop. Each time you fail, and you realize too late that you’ll either crash into the other car or you try to do something.

But time isn’t always on your side, and the last thing you see before blacking out is how your car hits the tree and the airbags open.

•••••••••••••••••••••••

Aemond bolts through hospital doors, repeating your name until someone pays attention and shows him the way to the ER. As soon as he reaches the end of the hallway, the doctor steps out and tries to calm him.

“How is she? What happened?”

“Calm down, sir, she’s alright—“

“I need to see her, please, let me go inside—“

The doctor declines, grabbing Aemond’s shoulders when he tries to step inside the room, “She’s under anesthesia, she probably won’t be up until noon. She has lost so much blood, two broken ribs, and a minor head trauma. She’s lucky she’s alive.”

The doctor leaves him alone, and Aemond slides down on the hospital floor, resting his head on the wall as he thinks about how terrible you must have felt when he left without any further explanation.

He cries softly, shoulders shaking with each sob that shocks his body. He’s not known to be a vulnerable person, but ever since you came into his life, he’s been changing; a bit softer around the edges of his heart, he smiles more, he relaxes more often than not, and he’s been much happier. But now, the thought of you going through such a horrible thing while he was away sleeping in his bed makes him hate himself even more for what he put you through.

He totally forgets about the elections that are taking place today, he can’t care less about what would happen, it means nothing when he can’t have you next to him. He declines every call from his mom and assistant, only sending a text to say he won’t return for the day.

His heart pops out of his chest when he sees the nurses pushing your bed towards one of the rooms.

“How is she?” He asks, looking down at your unconscious body. How beautiful you look even with bruises and wounds over your face.

“She’ll be fine, sir,” one of the nurses says, “all she needs is rest and good company.”

“When will she wake up?” He swallows, watching them closely while they hang your serums and connect different tubes.

“Hopefully in a few hours. Her body has experienced too much trauma and she should take as much rest as she can.”

He nods in agreement, waiting for them to leave before h breaks down, reaching to hold your sofy hand in his, kissing all over your knuckles and fingers, whispering praises of how he’ll cherish you and won’t leave you ever, he won’t put you through what he did again. He falls asleep with your hands in his, dried tears adoring his high cheekbones. He feels a soft hand reaching to wipe the remaining wetness, leaving soft caresses over his skin.

He opens his eye, finding you smiling softly at him as best as you can while fighting the pain. He sniffles and presses his lips desperately to the back of your hand, thanking the Seven for bringing you back to him.

“Hey,”

“Shh, please, don’t talk. You need to rest,” he reaches to push your hair out of your forehead, letting his fingers linger on your face for a little while before he holds your hand again, “what happened?”

“Well…” you cough, wincing in discomfort and pain before you continue, “I got drunk and…your wife came. We argued, she said some…nasty things about you…”

“What did she say, sweet girl?” He asks hesitantly, keeping his lips locked to your hand, “Don’t push yourself too much. If it bothers you—“

“She sent the photographers,” you sigh, closing your eyes for a moment, “she confessed it herself. She sent them because she wanted to help you. She said you didn’t want to win the elections, that you…you just used me to gain information on my father’s doings.”

“I would never do that, love, I would kill myself rather than ever thinking about hurting you.”

“But you did, Aemond. You hurt me when you left me at my house like garbage needed to be dumped. I was so alone, everyone left me, why does everyone leave me?” You ask, teardrops streaming down your cheeks.

“I will never leave you again, I’d never make the same mistake twice.” He reaches to wipe your tears gently, minding your injuries.

“You called our relationship a mistake too, Aemond…”

“I was angry at myself for not protecting us, for not filing the divorce papers sooner!” He says, desperation dripping from his words like honey, “I needed to step away, to convince Floris to be done with this marriage. I’ll be yours forever in a few days.”

“You… you’re getting a divorce? You just lost the election and-and you’re… how are you not freaking out, Aemond?”

“Because none of these matter as long as you’re with me. You brighten up my world, sweet girl. My life orbits around your smile and I can’t… I can’t let go of you again.”

“I won’t be your affair anymore, n-not your other woman…”

“No, sweet girl, you’ll be my only woman.”

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #prince aemond targaryen #aemond smut #aemond x reader #rue:smut #rue:angst #modern aemond targaryen #modern aemond smut

1K notes · View notes

prettymonegasque · 8 months

Text

not acceptable

Charles Leclerc x fem!driver! reader

Summary: Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do when your pretty boyfriend is a lil dumb

Warnings: Excessive cursing, Lando slander, grown men sharing a single brain cell, fluff?

Word Count: 1.3k

Based on my favourite scene in Schitt’s Creek

In all the two years you’ve been in Ferrari, the speculations and rumours of you dating Charles were non-stop. Neither of you paid much attention to it. You were both in happy relationships. However, that changed in the summer of ‘22 when you broke up with your partner. It wasn’t messy and you both agreed it was for the better. You focused on the rest of the season.

Fast forward to the summer of ‘23, you and Charles were both single. You decided to give in to the speculations and give the relationship a real shot. You went on a few dates, each one being more fun than the previous one. Yet neither of you took the leap to become exclusive. You both liked each other but it wasn’t said out loud as much as you would’ve wanted to. So when Charles invited you to a game night with his friends, you thought it would be the one where he introduced you as his girlfriend.

You knocked on his apartment door at 7 pm. You had brought a charcuterie board because you panicked and the first thing your mind thought was cheese.

“Y/N! Come in.” Charles opened the door and hugged you. You tried your best to return while managing the charcuterie board. He laughed at your struggle, took the board from your hand and led you in. You spotted some familiar faces in the room. “Hey, guys. This is Y/N. My teammate as you know.” To risk being dramatic, the only description for what you felt was “death by a thousand cuts”. You still forced a smile and greeted everyone. You took a seat on the sofa next to Charles. “You brought a charcuterie board?” Pierre asked puzzled. “Dibs on gouda.” Yelled a familiar Brit.

**************

For the next few hours, you forced yourself to forget about your “teammate” and focus on the game instead. To everyone’s surprise, you were very good at Monopoly. You had already collected over $7000 worth of assets. You were more than happy to win by default. Arthur suggested Uno and everyone complied. You had never played it before which made the group very happy.

When you got your cards you leaned over to Charles and whispered “What the fuck should I do now? ” Charles peeked at your cards and by instinct you shied them away from him. “You have to show me the cards so I can tell you what to do.” He laughed. You rolled your eyes and showed him the cards. “How the hell did you get 3 +4 cards?” “Why? Is that bad?” “No no. It is very good and I am very grateful my turn is before you.” “I am gonna crush these motherfuckers” You silently giggled.

“Y/N your turn,” Andrea called out. You placed the +4 card on the table. “Seriously?” Lando sighed and took 4 cards from the deck. “I thought you'd never played this before.” “I haven’t. I’m just that good, Norris.” “You know you could put all the +4 cards at once? ” Charles whispered in your ear. When your turn came again you placed both your +4 cards down. “Oh come on. You’re an absolute ass.” Lando exclaimed. “You just got destroyed by a UNO rookie, Lando” Pierre doubled over in laughter. “Also you have only one card left. You can call out UNO” Arthur nudged you. “UNO!” You yelled. “Well, I guess we have a winner. ” Lorenzo sighed and folded.

You started feeling a little guilty. Your winning spree kept cutting the game short. It didn’t look like anyone was having any fun. Even if Charles isn’t going to introduce you as his girlfriend, you still want his friends and brothers to like you as Charles’ girl. Charles brought in Scrabble as his last resort. He wasn’t expecting to go through 2 games so quickly. You were chosen as the judge. You promised yourself to go easy on everyone. You weren’t sure if you were making a good impression on everyone but boy did your ego love this.

**************

“What do you mean ‘rizz’ isn’t accepted?” Arthur yelled. “Mate it isn’t in the dictionary.” “Then why does everyone call Lando ‘NoRIZZ’?” “Hey!” “I consider it as an acceptable word. We know the meaning. It exists. It’s a word.” You chimed in. “Thank you!” Arthur smiled and added 13 points to himself. The game continued and you limited yourself to simple words. And you accepted every word regardless of how ridiculous it was.

“Yes Pierre ‘Fuck’ is a word.”

“I mean we all know what ‘OMG’ is”

“Sure, Charles. You can make Frenglish words.”

You could physically feel the pain from the insanity of some words but you were on a mission. You nodded and smiled and carried on. The words became chaotic by the minute. Your last straw was when Lando argued that “Skibidi” should be accepted.

“That’s it. I can’t take this shit anymore. I respect the game too much to put up with this. You are way too old to use the word ‘Skibidi’, Lando.” “Yeah so wrong, Lando” Pierre fakes disappointment. “You! Fuck is not acceptable.” “Not acceptable. Yes sorry, Y/N” He bites back a laugh. “OMG!? Are you kidding me?” “I wasn’t.” Lorenzo shakes his head. “And my boyfriend sits there looking pretty and wanting to make up Frenglish words. THAT’S NOT EVEN A LANGUAGE. NOT ACCEPTABLE!”

“I’m sorry. What did you just say?” Charles looked up at you. “I said Lando is old.” You tried to shift the conversation. “Why the fuck am I getting slandered?” “No. I think it was something about your boyfriend being pretty and making up words.” Charles redirects you. “Um... I don’t remember saying that.” You mumbled. “Yeah no. That’s what we heard. Right Arthur?” Pierre snickered.

“Hey if my girlfriend says Frenglish isn’t acceptable then it isn’t, guys” Charles smirked. “Or it is. I don’t remember saying it.” You shrugged. “So you can do whatever you like.” The ceiling looked much more interesting than the gorgeous green eyes looking at you. “I think our work is done here. Let’s go guys.” Lando stood up. “And what exactly was that work, Norizz?” You called out as everyone was walking out the door chattering. Lando just smiled at you and closed the door.

You and Charles remained quiet and just looked at each other for a long moment. “I don’t k-” “Do you r-” You both spoke at the same time. Gentle giggles echoed in the silence. “I was gonna ask if you regretted it?” Charles looked at you with a hopeful glint in his eyes. “No. God no. Charles, I don’t regret it at all. But to be honest, I kinda thought you hosted this game night to introduce me as your girlfriend. It sucked ass when you called me your teammate.” You looked down at your feet. You contemplated if sitting down would make this whole shebang less awkward. But Charles quietened your thoughts by standing up and taking your hands in his.

“Cherie, seconds before you knocked, I was having a full-blown panic attack. I really really like you and I wanted us to be official but I didn’t know what you felt. The guys were there for emotional support because I do not trust myself with any high-risk situation.”

“You drive a car at 300 km/hr almost every weekend.”

“Please. That is nothing compared to you. Every time I get in the cockpit, I’m more worried about your safety than mine. I was going to introduce you as my girlfriend. Trust me the word was on the tip of my tongue but I was being a pussy and chickened out. I’m so glad you did it tho.” His smile made those adorable dimples pop as he hugged you. “I’m so glad I did it too.” Your voice came out muffled with your cheek pressed against his chest.

“And I’m so glad you called me pretty.”

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #schitt's creek #schittscreekedit #netflix #fanfics #pretty monegasque

1K notes · View notes

cherryrikis · 1 month

Text

ONE LESS LONELY GIRL - 001 ! the left side

PAIRING idols riki x fem reader

SYNOPSIS fans always point out the chemistry between you and riki, and it only continues to grow after you become mc’s together on music bank. but as your feelings rise, so does the tension. and people begin to notice, so you try not to let riki know how you feel. but unbeknownst to you, he feels entirely the same way.

authors note reader’s official emoji is a panda! also most of the interview dialogue is real (from two videos combined) lol

previous <> masterlist <> next

you and your group had arrived at the scene. the entrance process was rushed seeing as you were all running a little late. but despite being short on time, the six of you still stopped to wave at your fans before heading inside.

“take your places. we are late after all, i would expect that enhypen is already out on stage.” your manager informed, ushering you all out from behind the camera.

and she was right after all. they were in fact waiting for your group, respectfully bowing their heads as you and your members made way to take the spot beside them.

luck was in your favor, as you were instructed to stand next to ni-ki. you couldn’t resist your stares, carefully trying to sneak a glance, only to see he was already looking at you. he smiled at how your cheeks flushed pink.

the mc’s, eunchae and sangmin, quickly adjusted their lifeguard outfits while they waited for the intro music to end before starting their introduction.

“we are the mansaez!” they announced together. “shall we meet enhypen, who is back with a sweet melody?” eunchae read off the script. “welcome!”

“one, two, connect! hello we are enhypen!” jungwon introduced the group.

sangmin quickly greeted them, before going to introduce newjeans. “this time, let’s meet the girls that the world has been waiting for. shall we meet newjeans, who are back with supernatural? welcome!”

“two, three. hello, we are newjeans!” minji spoke into the microphone.

“nice to meet you all. to start off the interview, let’s first go to sunghoon. sunghoon, as a previous mc of music bank, how does it feel to be back?”

“i’m happy to be back after a long time. i’m also happy to be back with our second full length album, romance untold, and the fact that we are able to share this with our fans.” sunghoon smiled to the camera.

“now, hyein. you weren’t able to participate in the last comeback. how does it feel to be back on stage?”

eunchae and sangmin took turns asking you all questions. but as unprofessional as it was, you felt yourself zoning out, still completely stunned by the fact nishimura riki was real, and right next to you. you were so close, your shoulders practically touched his.

the sound of your name being called by eunchae drew you back into reality, pulling you out of the clouds. “y/n! we’ve heard ni-ki doesn't show the left side of his face, but we finally got to see that in enhypens latest comeback. since it's known that you have admired enhypen for so long, how do you feel about this?"

and immediately, all the blood that was meant to pump into your brain, left, and rushed to your cheeks. you felt lightheaded, but you knew your face was burning.

you stood there frozen in shock, your mic jittering in your shaky hands. you suddenly felt more nervous than you were before, as you made the rookie mistake of turning to look at the boy next to you. he stared at you so expectantly, with a glimmer in his eyes.

“o-oh? i didnt know these types of things could be shared..” you awkwardly laughed, playing it off as you just being shy. “i think its charming because its not something we get to see often? i suppose.” you answered, playing it safe. because really, how do you respond to a question like that?

riki smiled at your response, nodding his head in approval.

haerin, who was next to you with her arm pressing into yours, gave you a small thumbs up of encouragement. maybe you didn’t do as bad as you thought.

“ni-ki, how do you feel about this?” sangmin asked.

“ah, me? sorry. i find it cute that you think i’m charming, even if it’s something i don’t do often.” he replied, looking at you the whole time he spoke.

you remained the eye contact for a few moments, causing the air to run thick as it stayed silent.

the mc’s shrugged it off, not thinking too much of it, before keeping the interview going by continuing to ask the other members their questions.

and before you knew it, the interview was over.

as soon as the cameras cut, you thanked eunchae and sangmin, then the enhypen members. riki reached out to shake your hand, his touch lingering for a moment before pulling away.

you smiled as he smirked at you while you both went your separate ways.

the music bank interview had ended 6 hours ago. it was now 10 pm, and you laid on danielle’s bed with your head in her lap as she braided your hair. hanni was sat next to you with her legs crossed, engrossed in some game hyein showed her the other day.

“my god. that was so embarrassing!” you whined as you saw a clip of today’s interview on tiktok, grabbing hanni’s pillow from beside to her as you screamed into it.

danielle quickly moved her hands away in surprise. “hey, i said don’t move! now the mini braid is all frizzy.” she pouted, undoing it to start over.

“it wasn’t that bad. at least you managed to not cause a dating scandal! fans are going crazy over the interaction on twitter.” hanni informed you in a comforting manner, handing you her phone.

“i don’t care about what people online think. it was more about the fact that i embarrassed myself in front of riki.” you mumbled, before scrolling through hanni’s phone to see what netizens were saying.

“that’s so humiliating. not them clipping my every movement..” you sighed with a frown.

at that moment, minji walked in with haerin behind her, from the other room that you three shared.

everyone was now together in the second bedroom of the dorm.

“come on y/n. let’s go get some snacks from the convenience store. you need some fresh air.” minji spoke, taking the phone out your grasp and returning it to hanni. she pulled you up to your feet, gesturing for you to put some shoes on.

“right now? i’m wearing pajamas.” you raised a brow, examining yourself in the mirror. you wore your long sleeve shirt, and your baggy pajamas pants, along with the slides you had just put on.

“so am i.” she shrugged. “come on, just you and me. you’ll feel better.”

reluctantly, you followed minji out the door, dreading the fact you may be recognized like this in public.

“i guess we’ll be back.” you waved to your other members who remained inside.

TAGLIST (italics = couldnt be tagged) @hannicorpse @luvvhaerin @itzningning @en-verse @ren2jay @choppedballoondetective @heartheejake @imanalien143 @istglevi-gotmesimping @yndairy @eleanorheartschishiya @lonelylandofan @gweoriz @jaemified @onlyhyunjin @softpia @frecklesbrownies @riksaes @wensurr @rikifordmiami @brideslit @ant-onie @yumilovesloona

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #niki smau #niki x reader #enhypen niki #nishimura riki #enhypen imagines #enhypen smau #riki smau #riki x reader #enhypen scenarios

482 notes · View notes

hannaxjo · 9 months

Text

Alan Rickman, David Thewlis, Gary Oldman and all those are iconic in their roles in Harry Potter, but I’ll always be a bit sad about that casting, because having that ‘Marauders era’ cast be age appropriate would’ve just been so much better for the story.

Sirius wasn’t this old man who spent 12 years in Azkaban, no he got locked up at 21. He spent almost third of his life in a cell. He wasn’t this wise father figure to Harry, he was a reckless thirty-something who never really got the chance to mature past 21.

Remus was an exhausted, bone deep tired man carrying both physical and mental scars from the suffering he went through. Because he’s a werewolf, because of the war, because he lost all of his friends. And he’s only 33 when first introduced.

And Snape. Snape wasn’t an old bitter man who just hated everyone and enjoyed being antagonistic. He was 31 in Harry’s first year. He began to work for Voldemort as a teen, and as a double agent at 20. He’s a thirty-something bitter man, who never got to really live or make real connections. From Harry’s perspective he’s scary and intimidating, but really he’s just kinda…sad and pathetic. And then especially that scene where Snape is begging Dumbledore to help save Lily, and promising anything in return. (Because apparently Dumbledore needs something in return…for saving people.) He’s twenty. Barely out of his teens. Rickman was good in that scene, but having someone who actually looks twenty, would better show how scared, young, guilty and just desperate he was. That might not put Dumbledore in such a good light, though.

And then, the characters I think would’ve been the most important to cast age appropriately. And most people probably already agree and know who I’m talking about. James and Lily. They were 21 when they died. When Harry sees them in the mirror of Erised, they’re 10 years older than him. That’s the age difference Ron has with Bill. In that scene I might understand somewhat them being in their thirties, because that’s what Harry wants. He wants his life with his parents, he wants to have been raised by them. Though, I don’t know if the mirror could know what they might’ve looked like in their thirties, since they didn’t live that long. But then, in the cemetery when Voldemort’s wand spits the last spells cast, we see Lily and James as they were. 21. They’re telling their son to hold on just a moment longer. And they are 7 years older than him. In Deathly Hallows, Harry sees Voldemort kill them. They’re not this happy couple who’s got to love each other for a long time, only to have that happiness torn from them, no they started at Hogwarts ten years ago. They’re 21, and they’ve barely tasted that happiness. At the end of the book Harry talks to his parents. They comfort him and promise to stay with him, as he goes to die. Harry’s seventeen. James and Lily are four years older than him.

It wouldn’t have felt as nice. Harry being comforted by someone who looks almost his age. But it wasn’t nice. It was pretty tragic. Casting people who look 21, would’ve really made it land on the audience. It was a tragedy. They were barely adults.

#every time I swear I’m over this fucking franchise #some stupid ass thought drags me right back in #i didn’t mean to write that much #the brainrot is real #harry potter #harry potter movies #marauders #sirius #sirius black #remus lupin #severus snape #james potter #lily potter #lily evans #can you tell I don’t like Dumbledore

1K notes · View notes

ajortga · 3 months

Text

cute and absolute

pairing: jenna ortega x actress!fem reader

word count: 1.8k+

summary: it doesn't go unnoticed that you are one of the only people that jenna lets her walls down with.

based off request!

Where Jenna only accepts r's touch ??? Tyy

-🥝

Jenna is squirming in the car, screaming at her friend to drive faster so she can eat.

“I’ve been on set since 6 fucking AM! It’s been 10 hours and I’m hungry! I skipped breakfast for this damn shit! What the hell do you mean you can’t get a burrito right now? All I want is a damn burrito and you’re telling me that we have to pick up Y/N, our friend, and first buy the book you wanted because it’s closer? CLOSER?” She screams, gripping her knuckles that were already white enough.

Jacob, one of Jenna’s friends laughs hard, a little threatened but not enough to be stopped. “It’ll only take 15 minutes at most! It’s more convenient, the bookstore is along the way and closer to our location, then we can just buy any burrito you want aft-”

“CLOSER? YOU KNOW WHAT’S CLOSER?” Jenna throws her arms up in dramatic effect, huffing, “Me going insane! My sanity is at 10% right now, and if I don’t get my burrito this instant, I’m going to crash this car and fucking run to the nearest place that has a burrito. DON’T touch me!” She yells, smacking her friend's arm away because she cannot think properly at this moment.

“I’m STARVING, and I’m a woman who needs food to survive in this film ECONOMY! Can’t you drive any faster?-"

Jenna suddenly hears your voice outside from the slightly opened car window. She peeks her eyes out, her hands holding the glass. She suddenly sees you, looking sweet, happy, and perfectly sane as you come out of your driveway. “Hi, Jenna!” You exclaim, completely unaware that she was just ballistic for a burrito 5 seconds ago.

Her frustrated demeanor melts off suddenly, a goofy grin on her face as she sees just how happy you are. She brings her hand up, waving. “Hi!”

She just forgot how hungry she was and the person she just was less than a minute ago. Why was she so upset that she had to wait longer so Jacob could pick you up? She stopped feeling the need to bang her head on the nearest wall.

“Jacob was telling me that you had a long time on set, something about how I had to save him because you were going crazy, so I got you some snacks.” You pull out a bag filled with goodies from your pantry.

The man that was driving stuttered as Jenna slowly turned to him, “I did not say it like that.”

“Oh yeah?” You ask, grabbing your phone and swiping and squinting. “It says here, “Please save me from this woman, she’s acting like a toddler that just shit her pants. SOS, crying crying emoji..” Um, oh and here. “This girl is so dramatic, complaining about not getting her burrito, she's wailing in the back seat. Please save her.” Don’t lie to me.” You state with a grin as Jenna munches on chips.

He rolls his eyes, grumbling.

Jenna interrupts, “Okay, Jacob, you traitor.”

“You cannot be talking, slapping my arm away when I try to calm you down but Y/N being some sort of angel and making you all cuddly.”

The fuming brunette slowly turns back to normal as you slither your arm around hers, laying your head on her shoulder. “Glad to know you love me. How was filming without me?”

Jenna sniffs, letting you ruffle her hair, “One of the directors was trying to show us how the scene should play out, the popcorn in the microwave caught on fire.”

You nod, awkwardly as you look around. “Was it your popcorn?” You guess.

She huffs and sinks into you, “Yes, and now I'm starving."

Aliyah is losing her mind. First, her father was fixing the doorbell, and now it seems to be ringing on its own. Now, her older sister won’t cooperate as she tries to steady Jenna’s legs that are in the air. The brunette shrieks, causing Aliyah to pull away and make her tumble.

Aliyah groans, “This is the thirteenth time already! Let me make this clear, you asked me to help you do this random one handed handstand, but you won’t let me even touch you so I can get you into the right pose? You’re so weird.”

Jenna shrugs, her head on the floor as she hangs upside down from the couch. “I am letting you touch me!”

“No you aren’t! You start shrieking and then falling face flat when I do! How the hell are we going to make this work if you won’t cooperate?”

The two siblings hear some shuffling as you crawl through the dog door, fitting yourself in. They blink, staring at you as you wiggle yourself through and throw a hand in the air, showing that you brought food. “Burritos!”

“Y/N! What are you doing? Go through the back door you doofus! You could’ve just knocked!”

You finally manage to squirm your way in as you stand up, brushing some leaves off of you and throwing them into the trash. You flip your hair, crawling through doggy doors were one of your talents. You signal her Jenna to hear you out as you put up a finger, “First of all, I was ringing the doorbell like, five thousand times, then I knocked, and no one was answering! I’m not letting the food get cold.” You pause, looking at Jenna who is currently staring at you upside down and hanging from the couch. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Trying to do a one handed handstand.”

“Oh, wait. Oh! I know how to do that!” Happily, you hand her sister the bag with burritos and tacos, before collapsing to the floor.

There was awkward silence as Jenna and Aliyah stared at each other, “Um..”

Jenna always knew you as the silly girl across the block. Even after 5 years of friendship, she thinks you’ve just gotten sillier.

“That wasn’t it, I haven’t done it in a year. Hold on.” You position yourself, slowly doing a handstand. Jenna can see your shirt slowly rising up and showing your stomach as you keep yourself steady. You lift an arm off and hang it up. “Did I do it?”

Jenna giggles and flops down the couch. “Yeah. I think so.” She crawls behind you and picks up your body that was upside down.

“Hey!”

“Okay, slow and steady..” You say softly, squinting and holding Jenna’s legs, making sure she was in the right position. “Aliyah, try steadying her while she puts one arm up.”

“No way, nope.” She argues, eating her taco, “She literally kept shrieking when I tried to and starting kicking and squirming.”

“She’s not shrieking right now?”

“Well you’re just different I guess, you’re her best friend, so..”

You raise your eyebrows, a smile tugging on your lips as you tickle Jenna and make her fall on you. “You just love me, don’t you!?” You giggle, hugging her as she squeals and nuzzles against you.

It was late in the evening as you got changed into pajamas and flopped onto your bed. Nights like this always felt better, where you would switch on a show, read a book, or call friends. You decide to check some emails, looking over some asking for you to star in movies, replying to companies that want you as their ambassador, you click out of the tab.

A small ding sounds on your phone as you see that Emma had texted you.

meh meh myers: LMAO look at this article i found about u and jenna: https://hypotheticalsofcelebrities

y/n: okay my own researcher and detective, or should i say pippa fitz amobi? u get me?

y/n: lemme go check it out

meh meh myers: yus ily

y/n: ur the pip to my ravi 🥺

meh meh myers: corny

You laugh at yourself as you open the link, the article named ‘Escalating Relationships, Cute or Absolute?’

You roll your eyes and scroll down.

Fans say that they’ve picked up on the actress’s behavior, scooting away from castmates who’ve gotten too close during interviews and only staying close to one or two close ones. Not that she’s uncomfortable, taken from the way she seems unfazed most times. But, it is noticed that she seems like a bundle of happiness with individuals. A clip right here shows her with a fellow castmate, Y/N L/N, both starred in the famous series, Wednesday. It is caught on how Ortega was silently making sure that her friend was okay during an interview that had turned a little more uncomfortable for the other girl, squeezing her hand and clinging onto her. It seemed to have worked, for how the girl began to relax. What a friendship they have!

The tiny moments of comfort and physical touch occur in other interviews too, as well as cute Instagram comments on each other's posts that come off as playful flirting. Some comments are pasted here.

Jenna Ortega commenting on Y/N’s post of a photoshoot press for Wednesday last year in September:

jennaortega: That’s my girl

Another one on a post of the girl just doing an Instagram photo dump this year in March:

jennaortega: if you squint closely you can see me doing the dishes for my wife in the third photo

jennaortega: i will take your last name if i have to

jennaortega: my woman, i love you

Y/N L/N commenting on a post for Jenna’s Adidas campaign last year in November:

y/n_l/n: i will be the only one applauding the longest for u

y/n_l/n: tis is why i got adidas merch

Fast forward to Christmas with a dump of Jenna’s favorite people (Y/N included) in December last year:

y/n_l/n: I love you this is why I wanted to bake the turkey

y/n_l/n: merry christmas to my favorite person

Another one to a selfie of Jenna posted this year in April:

y/n_l/n: oh i’m interested, what’s your number?

y/n_l/n: sign my contract to be with me forever? comes with a long time of house wife chores!

What do you think? Are they just really good friends with the cutest flirting? Or secretly dating? Answer us down in our poll, cute, or absolute?

Final vote with 20K votes

Cute: 24%

Absolute: 76%

—

carrots4life: but like, their relationship is both cute and absolute! why aint that a option?

mangofrosties: they are def dating istg i’ve never seen them both this happy unless they are together

You smile, looking away from your laptop as you kick your feet. You do feel like Jenna had a soft spot for you, she always hugged you first, tried picking you up, falling asleep with each other on set. But she was just your best friend, you would all say to interviewers.

The door slightly creaks as you turn, smiling. “Hey baby, I think you should see this.”

Jenna flops on the bed with you, letting you cuddle her as she kisses you and reads your screen, a goofy grin on her face.

“I guess they caught on that we might be more than friends. I mean, it's not a lie that we are best friends, girlfriends is just a small little detail."

“Cute and absolute.”

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x you #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega imagine #vada cavell x y/n #tara carpenter x you #jenna ortega x y/n #vada cavell x reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x female reader #vada cavell x you #jenna ortega imagines #jenna ortega

944 notes · View notes

lovegasmic · 3 months

Note

switching it up a little but can i get a bff gojo x fem reader where reader moves on from having something with gojo??? it’s inspired by that one tik tok audio “does he make you laugh?” and the girl responds with “he doesn’t make me cry” and it could be angst IDK I NEED IT PLEASE

DOES HE MAKE YOU LAUGH ?

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 angst cw. f!reader, situationships breakup, Satoru is jealous jealous and very bad at showing his emotions. ( i wrote this with that one satosugu scene in mind help ) more bff Satoru

you weren’t doing that to him, right? there was no way Satoru saw you chatting and laughing with a guy over a cup of some unknown beverage at a nearby café, one where you both often got breakfast from.

but he couldn’t say anything, you were best friends, nothing more, nothing less, so —although incredibly appealing, causing a scene wasn’t in his plans. instead pacing in the solitude of your apartment from which he had a key, and if you were to bring that dude home, then Satoru would happily kick him out.

‘how long are you taking in coming back home? is your... stupid little date more important?’ he huffs to himself, the four walls of your living room his only comfort, observing his every move, every step and desperate check on his phone for news from you, even after sending you a text to hang out.

an hour, two hours, how long has it been? merely 20 minutes that feel like an eternity.

but you come back, making Satoru’s invisible puppy ears perk up at the sound of your footsteps and keys finding the doorknob, “hey, when did you get here?” you ask with an oblivious... gorgeous smile and the blue eyed desperate wants to kiss you stupid, to bruise your lips with his teeth.

“where were you?” he asks instead.

and you frown at the demanding tone, “...out?”

“you didn’t answer my texts”

“oh” a hint of understanding flashing through your eyes, “sorry, I was kinda busy”

giving into unfounded jealousy Satoru’s jaw clenches, “with who?” he takes a step closer, staring at your dumbfounded expression more clearly, another step closer, “i saw you with that guy, who is it?” one last step and he has you almost caged against the wall, your scent filling his senses, almost making him bend and slam you against the wall to kiss you, to make you remember you’re his.

“Satoru, what the hell is wrong with you today?”

“am I not enough for you?” although his voice is low and full of anger, there’s also a hint of vulnerability he’s not yet ready to show, not in this situation, not when his heart is about to break.

“Satoru, i—”

“does he treat you better than me?” he cuts you, “does he make you laugh?”

“he doesn’t make me cry”

he’s taken aback, the mask of anger melting under your defensive tone, “what?”

“i’m tired, Satoru, of... whatever we have, I want stability, not just a random fuck once every couple of days”

so that’s how you feel... that’s what you think of him... hasn’t he showed you how he felt? how much did you mean to him?

the words die in his throat like his heart, struggling to properly articulate his feelings, but... you’re hurt, he can see it in your eyes, just how long has he been driving you to the edge, with this constant back and forth, coming to fuck you just to get a new girlfriend days later. he’s an idiot, isn’t he?

so why can’t he just apologize? why is he stepping back, giving you room much against his will because he already misses your warmth and perfume?

“sorry” he mutters weakly, but sorry for what? for playing with you? for not being honest? for invading your space? perhaps all.

conflicted with realization, that he fucking loves you so much he’s struggling to breathe, mind in a haze as he steps towards your door and walks out without a word.

but if your happiness is not with him, then Satoru hopes that you find it with someone else.

#gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk gojo x reader #jjk angst #gojo satoru angst #satoru angst #gojo angst

606 notes · View notes

world-of-aus · 7 months

Text

Pairing: Pornstar!Bucky x Pornstar!Reader

Warnings: MINORS DNI (Porn with a substantial amount of plot fingering, P in V, pet names, bucky barnes.)

Author's Note: Installment 4 here we go! So sorry for the delay but writing should be coming more close as I enjoy my spring break! Hope you all enjoy and happy readings Buns!

Tony Stark was always looking for the next best thing to boosts his websites rating.

“Any of the scenes catching your eye?”

Bucky looked up from the script titles, eyes meeting his boss, a shake to his head.

‘Step-sister helps me relax’

‘Horny sitter cums clean’

‘Caught stepbrother smelling my underwear’

Bucky grimaces at that one, “Jesus stark, who the hell wrote these titles?” he says as he slides the page back at his boss.

Tony laughs as he picks up the paper he laid out for Bucky minutes prior to scan them again himself. His grimace mirrored his stars, he's tossing the page back down on the desk, “they were sent to me by the scripting company,” he answers with a heavy breath, “apparently this is what the people want, this is the sex that’s selling.”

Bucky’s looking down at the page again, reading through the titles, “stark hubs dabbled in these categories before, but shouldn’t we be bringing something new, something we haven’t filmed before instead of just slapping on a raunchy title to one of our viewers favorites?”

Tony tilts his head, “that would be ideal, yes – but this is what is selling right now, this is what the viewers want.”

The brunette shakes his head rubbing at his stubble, “Do you have the list of costars for me this week?”

Tony goes to answer his question but a knock stops him, both their eyes going to the door. Pepper pops her head in with a warm smile a paper in her hand, “got the list of girls that are available for this week.” She says letting herself in, you following in right after her a warm smile and greeting on your lips, Bucky returns the sentiment.

“Wonderful,” Tony grins grabbing the page from his wife, looking it over before sliding it to him, “got that list for you right here Barnes.” Bucky gives his boss an unamused look, grabbing the page to scan the names, his eyes finding your name right away looking over your open days.

“Y/n sit,” Tony offers the seat next to Bucky, “maybe you and Pepper can help us here.” Bucky continues to scan the list of names and days available while Tony explains what they had gone over before you and Pepper had come in.

Bucky’s placing the list down just as you’re picking up the list of titles, Tony laughs at the grimace that kisses your features, “this came from the scripting company? You question passing the page to Pepper, “are they running out of titles?”

Peppers reaction is similar to yours, “this is what’s selling?” Tony nods leaning back in his chair, “unfortunately it is, it’s all the hype right now.”

“Getting caught smelling your stepsisters underwear though? I mean Im not kink shaming but that cant be that hot.”

Bucky chuckles next to you, “My thoughts exactly, the only way that title is selling is if the sex that comes after.”

You nod turning to Pepper, “I guess I’ll do solos and Cams this week, work on my views.” Your boss nods jotting it down already, Bucky turns to your brows furrowed, but Tony asks the question burning his tongue, “not feeling up to working with the guys this week kid, the soldier not do his job last week?”

You laugh, “the soldier did his job and then some -”

“So what’s the problem then?” stark jumps in.

“Aside from the bad titles,” you say pointing to the paper, “m’not really comfortable with the list of costars left to choose from, I’d rather get myself off.”

“I think I get you off just fine y/n.” it’s out of Buckys mouth before he can stop it. You turn to catch his gaze, “I could take any of those titles and have you coming within the first thirty minutes.”

Your tongue runs along your cheek, “I know you can, but I’m not trying to step on any toes.”

The brunettes brows furrow, head tilted in question, “step on toes?” Tony questions drawing your attention away from Bucky. You nod, you hadn’t wanted to bring this up, but from the look on the broad-shouldered brunette sitting next to you, he deserved to know. “Carter approached me in the lockers this morning, said she had Bucky the whole week.” You leave out the part where she said Bucky only filmed with you for the views and now that your ratings were high enough his job of filming with you was done. “She had overheard me and Wanda talking about our plans for this week, I mentioned wanting to work with Bucky, that’s when she approached me to tell me she had you for the week.”

He licks over his lip, jaw ticking, “So its not that I don’t want to work with you, and have you fuck me silly to one of those raunchy titles,” you say drawing a low whistle from Tony, but you wanted to make your intentions of working with him still known. “But I assumed you were booked for the week with the way Carter approached me this morning – I’m not trying to make enemies of the girls.”

“Listen kid,” Tony speaks up drawing your attention, “schedules have to go through me for final approval, Carter can say she has Bucky booked for the week but if it’s not approved by me it ain’t happening, so if you wanna work with him add it to your schedule and I’ll give the final approval, and given the ratings the two of you have been getting it’ll be the first approved.”

“Give me Friday,” you say gaze finding Bucky’s, “I’d like to start my weekend off with a bang, won’t be a problem – right soldier.”

Bucky runs his devious tongue over his lower lip, “not a problem at all, I’ll give you something to hold you over till next week.”

Tony claps his hand, grin on his features, “you sure you just want Friday kid?” Bucky watches you nod your head, “yeah, I really wanna do some solos with some new pieces I purchased last week.” The man raises a brow, “pieces we might get a peek of Friday?”

“I have the perfect piece.”

Tony grins, “well its settled you’ll do solos Monday through Thursday film with the soldier Friday.”

“Thank you Tony.”

“No problem kid,” he replies watching you and his wife stand the two of you making your exit. He watches you wave at Bucky promising to see him Friday it’s only after the doors closed behind the two of them that Tony turns to his star. “Something tells me you’ll see her before Friday.”

Bucky shakes his head with a chuckle, “unless she accepts an invitation to join us at the bar when we go during the week I won’t see her till Friday.”

“Speaking of Friday,” Tony turns the discussion, “how would you feel filming something new.”

Bucky looks at his boss in question, “you mean something not on the list?” Tony nods, “mobile recorded videos have been a hit lately on other sites, I’m thinking we could dip our toes, try a new category here at stark hub.”

“What did you have in mind?” the brunette questions.

“So where do you want me?”

The kitchen.

The living room.

Shower.

Bucky wanted to take you apart on every inch of his apartment, and the longer he stood here watching you in that set the longer he had time to think maybe going along with starks idea hadn’t been his best. Yes, it had been Starks bright idea to have Bucky film an ‘amateur’ scene with y/n where he had her in his bed to see what the viewers might think about it, but it had been Bucky who offered his actual bed, that probably wasn’t the smartest thought he’s had, amongst all the filthiest.

“B,’ you laugh softly, “if you want, we can get a set instead, maybe just haul your sheets with us so its mor natural - this is your space I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, I’m sure Tony will understand and can set us up.” Your words seem to bring him out of his reverie, his gaze finding yours, “sweetheart,” he chuckles licking over his lower lip, “I am anything but uncomfortable right now, if anything I’m holding myself back from taking you on every surface of my space I want you everywhere.”

A grin pulls at your lips, “well no one's here to tell us what to do, so why don’t you?”

The growl ripping from his chest is your only warning as he closes the distance between the two of you, hands going around you as he grips at your under thighs hoisting you in his arms.

You let out a surprised laugh, your arms hooking around his neck though it’s short-lived as he drops you on his bed, his body covering yours, lips a breath away. “Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me soldier?”

Bucky consumes your laugh with a press of his lips to yours, and a roll.of his hips that has you moaning into his mouth.

“You feel how happy you’ve made me?”

You arch up into the press of his hips as you chase his lips, “put it in – please.”

He groans into your parted lips; stark was really testing his patience with this scene he offered him. “I plan on it, but right now I need you to be a good girl and get yourself real comfortable in my sheets, ass out for me to play with, you think you can do that for me?”

You’re nodding your head in answer but it’s the soldiers’ time to play. He grips your jaw, “words Eden, you can’t be that cock drunk yet.”

“Yes sir.”

He grins planting a kiss on your waiting lips, “good girl, get up there.” You do as he says sliding up the bed, you don’t get far before he stops you with a hand on your hip. “Oh, and Eden keep being a good girl for me and you’ll really be staying the night tonight.”

His words have your heart racing in your chest, teeth biting back the grin that threatens to break your lips. You're thankful for the pillow and sheets that hide the warmth filling your cheeks, though it does little to quell the butterflies erupting in your stomach. Everything smells like him; you want to drown in it.

You situate yourself in his sheets curled onto your side, leg hiked high in the sheets leaving your bottom pushed out for him. You burrow yourself into his pillow eyes shutting as if you were really asleep, as if he had really let Eden Ivy stay the night.

The room is quiet, darker now as he shuts off the light, you can feel him shuffle around his room, but don’t know where he is till you feel the dip of his bed behind you. Behind your closed lids you can see the faint light of the flash from his phone's camera. A true ‘amateur’ film touch.

His touch comes shortly after and you can’t help the quiet ‘sleepy’ moan that builds in your chest, he shushes you softly, as his hand dancing over the skin of your exposed thigh. His hands feel you up groping you through the flimsy red fabric of your set. It doesn’t conceal the skin beneath it, the set so sheer he can see your the slick gathering between your thighs.

He cups your pussy drawing another murmured moan from your lips, you shift in your ‘sleep’ and he stills. When you settle again he pulls the ‘wet’ fabric to the side giving the camera a picturesque view of your “petty wet pussy”. A shiver rolls itself down your spine when he slips a digit into your wet awaiting heat, it takes all of you not to ‘wake-up’, you moan instead. He fucks you with the lone digit, pulling it out just enough to stick another alongside the first.

“So wet Eden, you dirty girl, wonder what you’re dreaming of.”

You push back into his hand letting your moans build as he fucks his fingers into you, he doesn't let up in the build of your pleasure, sliding a third finger in to stretch you out for his cock. “Gotta get you stretched out for me Eden, gonna fuck this pretty little pussy – make it better than your dreams.”

The ‘please’ is out of your lips before you can stop yourself, he chuckles body finally finding yours as he presses up against you, his phone still angled at your pussy where he fucks his fingers into you with vigor. “My pretty girl waking up for more, didn’t feed you enough earlier?” he questions.

His words have you whimpering, he presses a wet kiss to your neck, licking your skin, “don’t worry baby,” he murmurs, “I’ve got you, don’t even have to open your eyes, gonna take real good care of you.” You find you want to open your eyes; you want to see him. You want to look into those cerulean blue eyes gone dark, those all to pink pouty lips parted in pleasure, you wanted to kiss him.

And you do, your head turning, seeking out his lips, he goes to you easily, lips finding yours tasting you with his tongue.

“Fuck I gotta get my cock in there, put you right back to sleep sweet girl.”

His fingers slip from your pussy hand hooking around your thigh as he gets you into position. He slips his grey joggers down just enough to get his hardened cock out. He gets annoyed with his phone trying to find the perfect angle to slide against you, he finds it groan building in his chest as he presses forward, the head of his cock pressing past your drenched folds, his hips roll forward the tip of his cock brushing against your clit.

The noises you make are music to his ears, he wants more.

Grabbing hold of his leaking cock he drags it through your slick folds pressing into your warm heat, a moan falling from your lips as he bottoms out, your body pushes back, ass flush against his hips.

His head meets your shoulder, ragged breaths fanning across your skin, “fuck this pussy is addicting,” he groans feeling you flutter and clench around the length of him.

He pulls his hips back, cock sliding out from within you till only the tip is left, he slides back in again making sure to get every inch of it. The buildup is slow, as he fucks up into you, he wants to capture every part of the way your pussy takes him, and he lets you know just how well she is. “She takes me so well, always so fucking hungry for it.”

If you had trouble keeping quiet then, it's almost impossible to quiet your moans now as he fucks into you with vigor, a steady speed which has the sweetest groans of pleasure falling from your lips and his. “Fuck you’re close aren’t you, can feel her clenching for me baby, you wanna cum for me?” He quickens his thrusts, pressing himself deep, your walls fluttering around him as pleasure builds.

“Soldat,” you whine low in your throat as if you’re being roused from the depths of your sleep. “There she is,” he chuckles picking up speed needing to bring you to that release. It doesn’t take you long to fall apart around him, his cock taking you over the edge, your orgasm washing over you in waves of pleasure. Moan's part your lips, fingers curling around the sheets as he fucks you through your orgasm. Your stage name falls from his lips in a silent prayer, “come for me,” you breathe, “fill me up again.”

Your words have him falling over the edge with you, his jaw clenching as his orgasm washes over him, his stomach muscles tense, as he spills into you, warm spurts filling your core. “Fuck take it, take my cum Eden.”

You’d take it all and then some if he let you.

You groan when he slips his cock from you, the flash on his phone bright as he shines it between your legs capturing the moment his cum slides from your pussy. You moan when he pushes it right back in with his fingers. He stops the video, the light going with it as he tosses his phone somewhere on his bed the hand that wasn’t buried between your thighs cradling your head, bringing you closer to him his lips finding yours in the dark.

“Does this mean Eden Ivy gets to stay the night?”

“No, but you do.”

#pornstar!bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes smut

761 notes · View notes

hazelfoureyes · 5 months

Text

A Doe in Fall (part 6)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds

Part 6 Learning

Another night in bed with Alastor, but one that doesn’t feel quite right. You’re both learning about each other still. Unfortunately, it seems you’re not alone in finding out new information.

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem Burlesquer reader, smut, blowjob, riding, swallowing CUM, mostly sex honestly, greenhouse , discussions of murder and dead bodies, nervous smoking, a nervous Alastor, tenderness, plants」

The tag list is broken, it wont let me copy and paste them as actual tags so I am manually adding them 😭

Minors DNI 🦌 🚘

You reached for the chain of the ceiling fan light, Alastor removing his clothes except his boxers as it was still too warm for pajamas. He pulled your clean slip from the drawer before making sure the window was locked but the curtains open. The bed softly illuminated with moonlight.

Oh no. It felt strange. You would think this was a scene you’d seen before, perhaps in a photo beside the definition of home.

“Dear?” Alastor pulled back the blanket and sheet, “Everything alright?” You arm was still extended and holding the chain.

No. I’m too comfortable here already. I don’t feel like a guest.

“Come to bed.” He patted your side of the bed. You got changed, feeling him watching you.

“It’s nice to get undressed with an audience in a…boring way.” You huffed, the ache in your feet still with you.

As you lifted your dress to unhook your garter, Alastor asked you sheepishly, “Would your stockings and garter be uncomfortable to sleep in?” You opened your mouth to answer before you realized what he was actually asking you. Fingers stopping, you let them be.

“Not terribly, no.”

When you slid into the bed in your slip and garters you caught how he grinned at you and suddenly you felt so shy. He always made you feel like it was your first time alone with a man when he looked at you with that smile, with those sharp eyes. You felt naked, deeper than just clothes.

Alastor scooted closer to you, arms wrapping around your waist and dragging you to meet him in the middle. Kisses to the side of your face until you turned, lips captured. As his hand came to your neck, large palm resting on your upper chest, you willed your heart to calm down.

His mouth was hungry, tongue reaching for yours. You tried to breathe through your nose but couldn’t find the timing. When he pulled away, your mouth still open, he let his nose rub at yours. “I want to spoil you.” His hand slid down your front, fingers making a line through the center of your torso before coming to rest below your belly button. It was more intimate than you thought he realized. His hand sat heavy. “We can do as little or as much as you’d like.”

“Are you sure? I’m happy to cuddle in your fancy—,” you stretched your arms, “two person bed. Don’t worry about me.”

He kissed where your jaw ended, breathing into your ear a husky, “I don’t want to cuddle. I want to make a new memory in my home.” In truth, he was desperate to feel you still wanted him. Despite what had happened.

That was all you needed. Throwing your leg over him you straddled his lap. You reached down to make sure his soft member had room to grow. His hands came to your hips but you brought them to your face and leaned down to continue greedy kisses. Hips rolling forward against him, your little moans into his mouth earned you sighs in return.

You knew exactly what you wanted to do. You felt him growing under you as you rubbed against him. Catching his bottom lip in your teeth you gently tugged.

Leaning back, you took his hand and sucked one finger into your mouth. Pulling it out you added another, your teeth coming to rest well past his knuckles. A raspy groan coming from deep in his chest. Your hips kept rocking, tongue twirling as you slowly pulled him out of your mouth again. He fought the urge to say thank you.

“Fellatio, Alastor.” You maintained eye contact, hips grinding as his golden brown eyes became wide, “Can I?”

His cock was twitching against you, but you needed a verbal yes before giving it your full attention.

“I’m not a huge fan of feeling my release on my skin.” He was frowning. An honest to god frown like a bummed out child. You couldn’t help but find it cute. He was usually smirking so the frown felt like seeing the Easter bunny smoking. Just, so out of place.

“Well hun I wasn’t planning on giving it back to you.”

A gasp, he opened his mouth to say something about your unsurpassed ability to surprise him for the nth time, but his mouth had gone dry. He was sure you could feel him growing harder against the silk of your slip. He squeaked out an “Okay, yeah. Let’s try.”

You kissed his cheeks, feeling his blush heating your lips. Finally, you could be the one making a mess of the other. Moving down, you settled your own warm cheek in the crook where his thigh met his hip and let your hand lazily stroke him.

Dicks were remarkably ugly things, possibly done so animals would bury them every chance possible to avoid having to look at them. But Alastor’s cock was pretty. Tan and pink, long and slender with a slight curve up that seemed biologically strategic. It was a shame he didn’t show it off more, but that was none of your business.

“I missed you.” You cooed.

Alastor lifted his head from his pillow, he had been trying to not look at you because he already knew it would be too much. Sure enough, your barely lit face was looking at up from his lap. Eyes aglow with the dying summer moonlight and hand so tenderly touching him. What was he doing again?

Oh that’s right. You’d said something.

“Hmm?”

You kissed his tip, “I wasn’t talking to you.”

His head fell back down, making a noise that almost sounded like a word. Another peck of a kiss. Then a longer one. Your lips parted and his hands lightly gripped the sheets. Hot and wet, but a different version of wet heat you’d already allowed him to lose himself in. A firm palate and soft tongue running past his head and down his length.

For the life of him he couldn’t understand why you wanted to do this. The truth was you were already soaking through your panties, his little hip ruts and sharp inhales going straight to your core. You’d never wanted to please another person so much in your fucking life. Pornography made sense now, you’d pay to see photos of him spread out with a lusty face. But luckily your cost was minor, an express ticket to hell.

You took him down to the base before lifting your head again.

“I want you to make the pace.” You brought his hand to the back of your head. His normally sharp features now soft and squiggly. “Fast or slow, little bit or all of it, you can stop me entirely whenever you want.”

His hand was riding your head as you bobbed on his cock. Tongue running along the underside, pressing up as you moved. A muscle twitched in his thigh which you found impossibly arousing. Every time you took him all the way into your mouth you couldn’t breathe and it only made you think of how deep he’d reached inside you before.

Doting on his swollen head you licked his leaking precum from the slit. The look in your eyes promised to devour him as you sucked in your cheeks and made shallow moves, letting your hands slide down his shaft and balls. The weight of them in your hands had you twitching around nothing.

Alastor’s breath was rough and strained, but his moans soft. You released him with a pop.

“Alastor.”

His eyes were focused on the ceiling, fingers stroking mindlessly at your hair. “Yes?”

“Are you not comfortable with moving my head? You’re just petting me. We can stop or—?”

Alastor let his hand come down to your chin, thumb running over your bottom lip, “No, no I don’t want to stop,” the look in eyes made you believe that. “I don’t know how to set the pace. You just want me to move your head? I’m not used to this and my brain is completely empty. Tell me plainly what you want and I’ll do it.” It sounded like a plea, almost begging for you to give him instruction. Because he was. He was pleading for you to tell him how to make you happy in new ways. “I want to do it.”

Plainly? Okay. This was one area of life you could manage to be completely straight. “I want you,” you kissed the tip of his cock again, “to guide my head on and off your cock,” a kiss down his shaft followed by another, “until you come in my throat.” You kissed the dark hair around his base, taking a moment to enjoy the scent of his manhood. “I wanna do it at your speed.”

A whimper, his dick bouncing up with a twitch and hitting your cheek, “Fuck.” He nodded, “I won’t last long when your mouth is so skilled verbally and physically, my dear.”

You hummed as his hands guided you back down, was this still letting him take the lead? The lines were blurred of who was leading who. But that was fine, maybe two people could move forward in tandem.

It made your pussy clench with a need to be filled when he finally pressed your head all the way down. With some difficulty you kept your teeth from scratching him while hollowing your cheeks again.

Hands busy cupping and caressing his balls, you let him quicken his pace.

A pleasant surprise as his hips began to buck up with his increasingly strident groans. You moaned around his cock, taking quick breaths through your nose whenever you were pulled off before his thrusts and pushes choked you again. Your eyes were watering, glossy as you tried to focus on his face. Looking down and across his tightened stomach his eyes met yours. The way his mouth was open was one thing but the moan of your name as his eyes lolled back made you feel feral.

You shifted your hand to pumping his unsheathed length faster as he focused on his head hitting and sliding up the back of your tongue. You were confident he was almost at his peak. Seeing his eyes roll made you hungry to bring him to orgasm. The characteristic lost rhythm of his hips was a dead giveaway as much as the slowing of his hand bobbing your head that you were on the right track.

When you rolled your tongue Alastor loudly moaned in earnest, he seemed caught off guard by the sensation and his own response. The sound made you whimper around him. You wanted to make him make more sounds. More glimpses of him enjoying himself without restraint.

“My love… please,” he sounded like he was holding his breath, “Can I?” He felt insecure, he’d only entertained fellatio twice in his life and both times he found the sensations bordering disgusting and the aftermath humiliating. One partner dribbling his cum back onto his stomach, the other spitting it into his handkerchief. No one seemed happy with any part of it. But your mouth didn’t feel wrong. No part of you made him feel like a chore. Nothing about you ever made him feel put up with, instead in that moment he felt like you enjoyed him. He felt delicious in your mouth.

One hand on the back of your head pushing your head down onto him quicker as he was just at the cusp, the other where your jaw and ear met lifting you off him slightly slower to languish in the drag of your tongue over his cock.

You hummed an affirmative and braced yourself, a thick and salty shot of his release hitting the back of your throat with force. You took him down to the base again, swallowing around his head as much as his size allowed. He hissed, hips rising off the bed. You didn’t stop swallowing despite his whines and spasms, shoulders jerking up and off the pillows as he folded in over your head. The silence of the night interrupted by his overstimulated gasps spilling out around you.

Only when he stilled, body no longer twitching as he lied back down, did you let up.

He was almost scared to look at you. Flashes of a long forgotten face of disgust behind his eyes.

“Alastor?” Your voice was so sweet, more so than usual. He dared to look.

A smile that reached your eyes. No mask, no grimace, no disappointment.

“You okay, doll?” You took his left hand and kissed his palm before setting your cheek against it. “Was it too much? Uncomfortable?”

What a silly question. He was the one who pulled you into murder, who left you vulnerable to dangerous men, who hadn’t ever considered how loving someone like him could put you at risk of terrible heartbreak. You had never been too much, he was the one spilling out of his canvas and staining you.

“We don’t have to do that ever again, okay?” You kissed his hand again, misreading his face entirely. Odd, you were usually so keen to the finer details of his mood. But when it came to sex, to his preferences, you knew you were better left always giving him room to ask for more, not less. Never make him need to ask you to stop. Never push past an absolute certainty of comfort, or put him in a position where he felt obligated to continue.

You’d decided some time ago you’d close your legs for good if it meant sharing a blanket with him. Your list of needs were rearranged the moment he pushed you into that bathroom, not that had known at the time or that you’d admit it was so early in your meeting.

Alastor smiled, finally, “No, it wasn’t.” While it wasn’t his favorite way to spend his time, he didn’t hate it. He wanted to ask if he was okay, if he was obviously inexperienced or embarrassingly quick. His eyes did that thing again, flitting around your face like he was reading a difficult but intriguing book.

You moved your body up to rest flush against his chest with your own. Silk slip cool on his heated skin. “I am very grateful you let me indulge myself, but,” a kiss to his chest before smiling back at him, your feet kicking up and knocking the blanket off, “Don’t push yourself, baby.” Your finger traced little circles on his chest.

He sat up. Slightly caught off guard, you did too. From the shadows of his bed you couldn’t see it before, but as he kissed you in an almost frantic succession of lips crashing into yours you pulled away to look him in the eyes. Blown out pupils shining back at you again. He stole another kiss, you not noticing his hand coming to his lap.

“I want to go at your pace now.” When he attempted another kiss, a pleasure soaked sigh stopped him. Your eyes traveled to the busy hand between you both.

“You can ride me, I’ve been selfish these last few times.” his hand was stroking himself, trying to get as hard as he could without getting too close to cumming a second time.

Even in the dim light he could see your face clearly, partly why he didn’t remove his glasses yet. You looked genuinely concerned. His free hand’s index finger and thumb came out almost like an upside down finger gun, a promise, “I want to feel you come undone around me.” You hooked your index with his, thumbs touching. It almost made a heart. “You can use me as you need, I just want to make you feel as good as you make me feel.”

You’d accepted him but he wanted more. He wanted you to need him. He’d be happy with just a night of neediness, really. Just confirmation he could keep you happy.

A blush spread up from your chest. There wasn’t anything to say. He left no room for doubt with his purposeful request. Leaning back again he slid a hand between your thighs and into your underwear. “Oh, you really did enjoy yourself didn’t you?” He brought his shining fingertip to his mouth and let those love affected eyes take you in as he licked his digits clean.

Unkindly beautiful. He was upsettingly ethereal beneath you, skin a glow in a way that rivaled the sun’s own bloom. His soft hair uncharacteristically messy, glasses fallen just a bit down his nose. The usually confident and sure Alastor was demure and needy between your legs. You’d never seen him look like that, even the first time was a different sight.

How lucky you were to get to devour him twice in one evening. You lifted yourself up and kept your eyes glued to his face as you pulled aside your panties and filled yourself with him.

A moment of pause when you bottomed out, letting you both adjust. A confession of his own, “I’ve never let anyone on top before.”

You tightened around him, “You skipped straight to eating women out in bathrooms?”

A quick correction by him, “Not women. A Woman.”

You tightened again, knees riding up over his stomach. “Well, I hope you’ll trust me with every first.”

Fighting the urge to bruise your ass on his hips, you took a gentle pace at first, knowing he’d just orgasmed minutes before. He was still sensitive, evident from his hisses and jerky movements with every bounce. His mouth was hanging open again with already heavy and loud breaths, eyes glued to watching himself disappear into your cunt.

Leaning down, you switched to rolling your hips front and back and kissing at his clavicle. You worked up his neck, pausing to whisper an ask, “Does it hurt?” into the bruised skin of this throat. He said it was fine so you continued kisses up and then along his jaw. When his mouth reached for yours you dodged and kissed his nose. Another whiny whimper, hands rubbing down your hips and running over the place your skin met your stockings. His fingers ran up the straps of garters and back down again.

You kissed his cheeks, then the corner of his mouth. He looked at you like you were hurting him, like it pained him to not have your mouth on his. A moan pulled his expression from torture to ecstasy.

Alastor felt good, his ego unfurling in his chest with the sight of your pleasure. It was as if he were being worshiped and in worship of you at the same time. Your kisses were an offering, his moans a prayer.

No one had ever doted so sweetly on him during sex, perhaps he never let them. The very notion briefly floated by of past lovers kissing at his neck and it just as briefly made his skin crawl. Though he deeply enjoyed kisses when everyone was dressed.

Much like small beds, affection was made comfortable by your presence. He wanted to be possessed by you. He felt he would be stronger somehow if he was wholly yours.

Resting your forehead on his in the most loving act you’d ever offered a man during sex, you used his shoulders as a sturdy support to resume riding him in earnest. A workout you actually enjoyed, lifting your weight off of him and making a controlled descent to impale yourself again and again on his heated member. His swollen tip was sliding past your g-spot but it wasn’t hitting it as hard as you needed. But before you could move, you felt Alastor bring his arms up.

He used his hands like you’d taught him and grabbed the back of your head to bring you into a kiss. Lips on lips, his tongue teasing its way into your mouth.

You broke the kiss to sit back up, giving your thighs a burn as you tried to create enough friction to build up your orgasm.

Often times you closed your eyes during sex, not because it just felt so good, but because you didn’t know where to look that wasn’t terribly uncomfortable. But not now, your eyes were locked on Alastor’s, every time he bit his bottom lip and every furrowed brow sent tingles that rolled down your shoulders , slipped along your ribs and settled in your stomach.

You didn’t want to blink and risk missing a single reaction. The soft slap of your ass on his lap became more obscene as you got wetter. Slippery was the best word for it, Alastor trying to compare your mouth to the feeling of your twitching cunt. As you moaned his name and clenched around him, he knew he liked this more. Your mouth was free to make pretty noises for him. Sounds that made him twitch in you.

How you could be so soft and yet gripping him so tightly he couldn’t understand. He began to realize how little he understood about any of it. Normally not actually paying attention this much during sex, but he let deeper thoughts go and just focused on the way you looked riding him.

A moment shared between you both as your eyes caught again; static shock without the contact.

“Could you cross your legs? At the ankle.” You reached around and made sure his still heavy balls were safely above his legs. Alastor did it without asking questions.

You needed a new angle, but there was no way in hell you’d turn around. Leaning back with both hands on his thighs, you could angle his cock head to graze that bundle of nerves his hands worked so well in the past. Heavy breaths morphed into deep moans as you worked him into that spot repeatedly.

When you let a hand come forward and flick at your clit you had to sink down onto him, unable to keep your body up the same way. Shorter movements but a quicker pace to match your finger. Alastor tore his eyes from yours to watch your hand work, studying the way you moved so he could master pulling orgasms from you with his own.

Quiet, so softly you gasped and mewled as you quickly raised the tension in your lower belly. No more lifting, no energy or focus to offer, just grinding against him until you felt that snap of pressure and your muscles rolled around his cock. Alastor was quick to watch your face as he recognized the spasms making his thighs twitch again.

As your orgasm waned, the pleasure dying, you felt a clarity you couldn’t before. You looked down over Alastor, and found yourself worried. A small sense of dissatisfaction. You couldn’t put your finger on it so you let it go. Learning about Alastor carnally would take time, and you needed to allow that to happen naturally.

He was the one who suggested it, but it didn’t feel as satisfying as before. Even with his orgasm, you felt like you’d gotten more from the interaction. And you weren’t sure what that something was or what that meant. The feeling in the air the first time wasn’t there now, and you weren’t sure why. You planted a kiss on his lips, trying to feel if anything was missing. His lips moved against yours and his hands rubbed at your thighs. He felt just like Alastor.

“Feel good, my dear?” He didn’t open his eyes, instead kissing you before you could reply. You hummed into his mouth.

“I feel good anytime I’m near you.”

The right answer.

His smile widened, “That’s all I want.”

With a deep sigh, you unseated yourself and lied back in your spot. Your slip was sticking to your skin in various places from sweat, it was uncomfortable but you were too tired to even ask him about showering. He took off his glasses and rolled to face you so you rolled too.

Lying there and looking at each other, Alastor’s eyes adjusted to the shadows to see your face. “I feel like…women often over-act during sex. You don’t though. Or you’re a great actress.”

You nodded, “Yeah I can see that. I definitely have. Also I’m a performer, professionally.”

A nervous smile spread on his face.

“I actually really hate touching you.” You laughed. Alastor placed his hand on your shoulder and you faked a gag, “Disgusting. So strong and yet soft. The worst.”

“Unfunny.” Alastor quoted you.

“No, I don’t do that with you.” Your hand touched at his, “Lots of other people though. I guess we feel like we have to make the guy feel like he’s doing well.” You hadn’t thought before speaking and suddenly worried you’d said something unattractive. There was a relaxation to the way you were talking with him that reminded you of being backstage at the theater.

“I have definitely been on the receiving end of that.” Alastor grimaced, “Feels like making someone a meal you don’t even like, just for them to pretend to eat it and hum loudly with every fake bite. Why push for sex and then just pretend.” Alastor mimed bringing a utensil to your mouth, “Here’s that fried catfish you love darling.”

“Lostsa reasons. And I hate catfish.”

He dropped the fake fork, “Thank God for that, catfish is disgusting.”

Chewing on your bottom lip you just jumped into the fear, “Did it bother you, when I said ‘lots of people’ just now?”

“Why would it?”

You reached out and touched his cheek, “Just checking. Tell me about your day. If I fall asleep it’s a compliment to your voice and not an insult.”

It had been a boring day, save for his worry about you seeing his home. He rambled about work as boringly as he could until he heard the soft and deep breathing of a sleeper. And then he told you about how he cleaned, and changed the bedding, about how he swept the porch and stared into his fridge.

When he ran out of details, he rolled onto his back and closed his eyes. The sound of your breathing was a new noise for his room. It was nice. His hand slid under the sheet until it found one of yours. It didn’t take long for his mind to settle and for him to fall asleep.

And then his eyes opened and it was bright in the room. He was on his side now, facing away from you. Alastor wondered if he was asleep still, but your breath behind him was evidence enough this wasn’t a nightmare. He was awake. He’d slept through the night without a terror or stressor plaguing him for the first time in, well, he couldn’t remember.

But the torment waited for him to awaken, a tinge of embarrassment washing over him from head to toe like a chill. Had he asked you to ride him? To use him? What the fuck was wrong with him? He was mortified, pulling the pillow over his face. He hadn’t even been drunk. He sounded like some horny teenager desperate to be touched. Not at all what he had been hoping to convey.

He managed to hide it well enough, through breakfast and to the patio where he could finally put his attention fully on something else.

“This is where I bring the bodies.” Alastor walked you to greenhouse doors. “There’s no one in there now. But,” he cleared his throat, “You don’t have to go inside if you don’t want to. I’ll never have you help with this part.”

You looked at each other, his eyes taking in the places where you’d been bruised before. Bruises he could still see in his head. Your eyes staring at the blooming purples of his neck. You hadn’t seen them before, his normal collar hiding them well enough. But he wasn’t headed to work yet, so you got see him in a clean white t-shirt tucked into his usual pants. Only he could make that look like a state of undress.

You jiggled the handles, looking past the hardwater stained glass to barely visible green beyond, “If you don’t unlock this door right now I will break in.”

Alastor laughed, pulling the key he’d grabbed earlier from his pocket.

You considered making a joke about your skills with rocks but thought better of it.

When the doors opened, you were surprised to see plants.

Not because they were in there, but that it was all you saw. Alastor walked past you and to the left, “Most people naturally turn right when they enter a room. Buys me a little time just in case someone comes in.” You followed him past long and tall shelves of various potted plants and flowers.

“And most people would consider a shed more suspicious than an all glass greenhouse. Nothing nefarious about glass. The plants help obscure the sights and the hard water takes care of the view from ground level.” He pointed up and over to the house, “You can see it perfectly well from the second floor.”

“Aren’t you worried about neighbors?” He turned right to step through some plants then stopped in front of a large metal table.

“Nearest neighbors are at least several acres away on all sides, we don’t interact.” His finger slid across the clean and shining surface, “Dismember, drain, back in the car to then disappear them far away from here.”

Your short heel sank down into the dirt, a memory of Tommy at better times taking your attention away from where you placed your weight.

“The ground soaks up the water and blood. Bugs take what I miss. And it stays pretty warm even in winter, so the ground stays soft.”

Morbid. You couldn’t pretend it wasn’t morbid as your eyes sank to the soil beneath your feet. Turning around you looked for anything out of place. You saw gardening supplies like shears, axes, hand saws, tarps. Plants everywhere, pretty flowers and small trees. It was a very full but very normal greenhouse. Approaching the table you lowered yourself to look underneath. Empty clay pots, bags of dirt, seeds. Clean and dry.

“It looks like a functional greenhouse.”

“Exactly.”

“No I mean— it, not a single trace of,” you searched for a good word, “impropriety.” You’d heard that shouted at you before. “Even the plants are cared for. How much time do you spend keeping this room perfect? When do you sleep?”

His head tilted, “I don’t sleep much. So, I have time. The long nights are just the ones when I have someone in here.”

“I promise my praise is coming but first — Alastor.” You stood, “Ya know you could have just slept last night. Like, a full night's sleep. We didn’t have to stay up. That’s two nights already you barely slept. On top of…years? Of this?”

A suddenly nervous energy, Alastor’s hand rubbing at the back of his neck as he looked away. Oh no, that was a first you hadn’t considered.

Had you been too harsh? Sounded too much like nagging wife? You felt like one.

“Sorry. It’s not my place to speak on.” You sighed and set your hands on the waist height table. His back must hurt, he was so much taller than the table, he must be bent over quite a bit when he worked. You couldn’t stop imagining him, tired and hunched.

Alastor came to stand beside you, hands mirroring yours, “No, that’s exactly it. It’s become your place, hasn’t it? But I’m still acting like I’m alone.” You bit your tongue. “Yes we should have slept. I was tired. But, you did a lot recently. For me. Selflessly.”

Ah. His fingers on his left hand intertwined with your right, eyes searching for something in the scratched grey blue of the workspace.

“I want to provide for all your needs.”

A tinge of fear again ran through him. He needed you to need him. So you wouldn’t leave. He wanted you to see how he could give you everything.

You could have screamed in the best way, somehow feeling a spark in your lap, provide for you? Why did it sound like an act of service when he said it and not a threat to your autonomy?

“You’re already giving me so many things I need. Phone calls in the morning and kisses after work. Respect for my job and myself as a human, not just a woman. Your voice when I’m falling asleep,” you cleared your throat now, too saccharine of a speech already, “Someone to lick the blood off my face. An alibi. That kinda stuff. Ya know?”

“I’m not joking.”

The muscles in your back locked. You gripped his hand, you could feel him staring at the side of your face but didn’t want to see what expression he had. Unfortunately he knew you too well already.

“Look at me.”

Your natural reaction to being given an order was to do the opposite. But you couldn’t muster the petulance. You finally turned to look back at him.

He’d never looked so serious. Eyes brighter in the sun than you’d remembered them being bore into yours. Locked, you were frozen in his stare.

A deer in the headlights.

He wasn’t studying your face this time, he was staring into. Not through you, no, you could feel his gaze being soaked into the back of your skull.

“I’m learning. Be patient with me? And you can tell me when I’m fucking up. I want it be our places in each other’s lives.”

“Al-,” it came out a squeak, you tried again, “I’m not either. Joking, that is.” His intense look was blinked away. “I need all the little things most. I can’t get them from anyone else. I don’t want them from anyone else. The tender kisses, the hand holding, cuddling. I’m terribly happy.” A tentative kiss to his nose, “But I need you tiptop. Sleeping, eating, human things like that. Let me help you balance things. I want to provide, too.”

Arms snaked around your waist, forehead to forehead, his smile grew, small but still a welcomed sight as always, “Can I have that praise you mentioned earlier now?”

You nodded, listing all the brilliant ways he protected himself from detection. A long form good boy.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Across the parish and downtown, a nervous woman fidgeted in a worn wooden chair. She had been woken up by a loud knock at her door when she was still sleeping off her late night.

“I thought this was all done with. Did you really need to drag me down here? Not a big fan of flat foots. You understand.”

He sighed, placing his hat on the empty chair beside him. His partner would be there if his partner was aware he was even doing this. But they had already written him off as obsessed with nothing, “Of course. Just finishing up some paperwork is all, miss. So, not a single enemy? I hear he had debts.”

“Well I mean,” her high pitched voice somehow creeped up into even higher an octave with her nerves, “We all had guesses but, no, never seen him fight with anyone except a dancer here and there. Mean right hook, that guy. I’m glad he’s gone. I hope he’s dead.”

He perked up, “He hit on ya’ll?”

“Once in a blue moon. But he really let Autumn have it before he up and left. Never seen him that mad before. She was bruised up for like a week after.” She ashed her cigarette in the bowl on the table between them, “He wasn’t normally like that. Just when girls refused dates. And Autumn really wasn’t playing along, if ya know what I mean.”

Detective Brady leaned over the interrogation table, “What dates?”

ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima a , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @rubyninja1 , @simphornies

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , , @fizzled-phoenix , @phobophobular , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk , @bontensbabygirl , (50)

#human alastor x reader #alastor x reader #alastor smut #alastor x reader smut #alastor #hazbin alastor #fanfiction #alastor x you #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #radio demon #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel

794 notes · View notes

zeppelinlvr · 1 month

Text

Two Reverse

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: You, Dean, and Sam go after a demon on short notice, you end up getting hurt in the process.

Felt sad, wrote angst sorry guys. Also, I know Andromalius is a higher up demon having 36 legions of demons at his service (I think?) and I know it's unlikely you’d be dealing with him as the process of even trying to summon him would be so complicated, but demonology is so complex just pretend him going after you is reasonable. Also i’ve been on an Adrianne Lenker kick lately so bear with me. Thank you all for the support on all my fics! 💗💗

Warnings: Angst (with a happy ending cus I can't write sad endings), cursing, fluff.

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

You and Sam were desperately researching, trying to find out what demon was targeting these people, four had died already and the two of you had made little progress. Dean was out interviewing people and trying to get anything he could about what you were dealing with.

“Sam, I think I know what we’re dealing with” you told him “I looked into the victims and two of them were thieves, not just shoplifting, they broke into people's houses and stole valuable items, and two of the other victims were just assholes, they were both bullies in high school and were super entitled”

“I’m not following, how are they connected” Sam asked

“The demon Andromalius goes after people who are wicked and theives, he’s not in a lot of the common demonology books is probably why we hadn't made the connection sooner but he’s mentioned in The Goetia, the Lesser key of Solomon” You explained

“Best explanation we have, I’ll start looking into how to exorcize him” Sam replied

“I’ll call Dean and we can figure out a plan to draw him in” you told Sam.

Dean was headed back to the motel, having little luck with his interviews. He felt his phone buzzing in his pocket and saw your name as the caller id and the stupid picture you had taken of yourself and made your contact photo. He smiled at your dumb expression before answering the call.

“hey, I didn’t find-“ he started but was cut off by your quick rambling, you were excited to finally have figured out what you were dealing with.

You explained to Dean what you had told Sam, then asked “we need to figure out a way to lure him into us, Sam’s researching right now but I wanted to see if you had any ideas”

“Well, I’m a thief and I’m probably wicked so we could use me as bait, figure out how to get him near us, then I’ll distract him while you and Sam try to kill him” Dean suggested

Your stomach knotted at his plan, you didn’t want him to put himself in danger “Dean, I don’t want to use you as bait, we can think of something else” you said trying to hide the worry in your voice.

“I can handle myself sweetheart” he told you “I’m almost back to the motel, I’ll talk to you more then” he hung up the phone after you exchanged goodbyes.

As he said, Dean arrived in the motel room a couple of minutes later. you gave him a brief hug upon his arrival, not out of the ordinary, he got used to the fact you were touchier than him and he was okay with it, never admitting it but he enjoyed being hugged by you.

You explained Deans plan to Sam, making sure to comment on how bad of an idea you thought it was, hoping Sam would also immediately shoot it down.

“We might not have any other choice, I’m getting signs of him a few miles from here, we need to go now” Sam grimaced

You sighed, worry filling your body but you chose to push it away, frantically getting ready to leave with Dean and Sam.

Dean hurled to a stop in front of a mildly secluded house, when you stepped out of the car the three of you heard things breaking and screams coming from inside. You all quickly ran to the door, Dean not bothering to pick the lock but rather just choosing to kick it down.

The scene in front of you was horrific, there was a woman, who had already died, lying on the floor of the living room. You heard a struggle down the hall and Dean made his way there, signaling you and Sam to stay out of sight in order to try to get some element of surprise.

When Andromalius caught sight of Dean he dropped the man who he had nearly killed. Dean yelled out “I’m here you asshole, come get me”

“No, it’s not you I’m after” Andromalius hissed

Dean's expression faltered slightly but he tried his best to keep the demon distracted “I steal all the time, and I’m definitely not a good person” he shrugged

Sam had an opening to the demon, he figured it was now or never, so he ran out from the spot he was hiding in. He was stopped before he had a chance to stab the demon. Sam found himself pushed against the wall with a harsh force.

“Where’s the girl?” Andromalius said, a dark expression growing on his face.

Dean clenched his jaw, trying to hide his worry “She’s an angel compared to me, you don’t want her” he defended

You snuck your way out of your spot, and managed to grab the knife Sam had dropped. You had your arm in the air, ready to stab him when he quickly whipped around, smirking when his face met yours.

You felt a force choking you, and slowly lifting you off the ground, tears welled in your eyes and you desperately tried to kick and fight back.

Then the searing pain came, ripping through your abdomen. You choked out a scream and tears poured down your face, you tried to kick and claw at him as the panic truly set in about how this could end. You cried out as the strength left your body, your vision blurring.

Dean and Sam were both struggling with everything they had. Dean had managed to get ahold of the knife, and with Andromalius’s focus stuck on you, Dean stabbed him in his back.

The demon had been killed and you fell to the floor, his force no longer holding you up. You choked and gasped for air. You were a mess, crying and panic still coursing through you.

Dean ran over to you, kneeling beside you and cradling you in his lap.

“Hey, it’s okay sweetheart, you did so good” he tried to comfort, his voice shaking.

He quickly flung off his jacket, pressing it to your abdomen, you hadn’t noticed the severity of the cut from how panic stricken you were, but you were losing a lot of blood.

“Sammy call 911” Dean yelled at him

“you’re gonna be okay, just keep looking at me, okay” he told you, trying to keep you calm.

The pain of the gash was becoming more prominent as your adrenaline wore off, you felt yourself growing weaker.

“Dean, thank you for always looking out for me” you choked out, it hurt to speak but you needed to tell him “You and Sam are the best things to happen to me” you tried to hold back the stinging tears, a lump in your throat. “I love you so much Dean”

“Hey no, don’t give me a goodbye speech, you’re going to be okay” he said shakily, a few tears running down his face.

“An ambulance is on the way, keep applying pressure” Sam told Dean, as he made his way over to you, helping Dean support your body.

You fought so hard to keep your eyes open and to keep listening to Dean voice, his reassurance that you were going to be okay, it was just a scratch, and that you were so tough.

You fought so hard, but his voice was fading, you felt your eyes droop before your body went limp in Deans arms.

“nono fuck” he whispered “I still need you” “Someone fucking help” he was now yelling “Castiel, some fucking angel save her”

"Why the hell did it go after her, I'm the one it should've gone after" Dean sobbed

"Dean, demons don't exactly see a grey area, there's probably something that happened on a hunt and he found that as an excuse to go after her, don't start blaming yourself" Sam told him, a few tears slipping down his cheeks.

Sobs racked Deans body as he heard the familiar flutter of wings. He was instantly yelling at the angel “fucking help her, I’m not letting her die on me”

“Dean, she’s going to be okay” Cas said and made his way over to you, placing a gentle hand on your forehead and began to heal your wounds.

You opened your eyes groggily, after your vision cleared, you were confused at the sight of the angel above you and Dean and Sam’s tear-stained faces.

You quickly pulled your shirt up to inspect where the gash had been, only to find nothing there, although your clothing was still stained with blood.

You frantically scrambled up and engulfed Dean in a hug.

“Hi sweet girl, I told you you’d be okay” he choked out

You allowed yourself to cry, tears streaming down your face as you sobbed harshly.

Deans heart sunk upon hearing your pained cries, he was already blaming himself for not intervening sooner.

After it sunk in that Cas had saved you, you whipped around to face him, his face ridden with what seemed like concern. You moved over to him to hug him, still sobbing like there was no tomorrow. blabbering out your thanks to him. He didn’t exactly understand what was happening, but he attempted to hug you back, gently wrapping his arms around you.

“You’re okay now Y/n, that’s what matters” he told you

You nodded in response, trying to stop your crying but your attempts didn’t do much, you were so overwhelmed, you were scared, thankful, and a little embarrassed by your sappy speech.

You turned back to Dean “I’m sorry for getting cheesy, I thought I was gonna kick the bucket and I needed to tell you a few things” you laughed awkwardly, still lightly crying.

He shook his head and brought you back in for a hug “I uh, feel like, me too” he struggled, wanting to tell you he loved you but he couldn’t get the words out.

“I know Dean” you nodded

You heard a siren in the distance, none of you wanted to explain the situation. Cas was gone in an instant, you, Sam and Dean were quickly making your way to the door. Dean carrying you in his arms despite your insistence that you were able to walk.

Sam drove and you sat squished next to Dean in the passenger seat.

“Sammy, I promise I’ll give you a hug when we get back to the motel” you told him, your nose stuffed up from how much you’d be crying. Sam laughed lightly in response.

Dean pulled you into him, holding onto you tightly as if you were going to slip away from him, swearing to himself to watch out for you.

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

#dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x you #supernatural #supernatural x reader #dean winchester x y/n #spn x y/n #spn x reader #spn

367 notes · View notes