#or who has slightly unusual problems

[anaalnathrakhs]

mental health facilities looooove to only have inpatient available when it would make things worse

[fangswbenefits]

Trance

Summary: Astarion is having a hard time trancing, and you offer to help him out in more ways than one.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Cockwarming. Body worship. Sub Astarion (if you squint). Breast play. Precum.

Word count: 2.1k

Astarion was restless.

You could see it clearly from the way he was pacing near his tent, not once stepping inside.

It was odd and unusual even though elves were known to only need a few hours of trancing to replenish their vigour.

Still, you figured maybe you should intervene.

“Astarion?”

You made sure your voice was loud enough for him to hear you from across the camp without sounding too alarm to wake the others.

It was enough to stir his attention, and he stopped in his tracks for a brief moment, before rounding the campfire, as he made his way towards you.

He looked positively drained when you crawled out through the opening of your tent, sitting on the carpeted floor.

“You look awful.”

He scoffed. “I'm quite sure I look far better than you, darling.”

You smiled warmly, knowing fully well it was just his automatic response to being teased.

“Well, what is it? Did you call me here to gawk?”

Astarion had this terrible habit of behaving like a temperamental cat that would make it everyone's problem if any minor inconvenience was thrown at them.

“You can't trace, can you?”

He crossed his arms. “I'm fine.”

Your smile parted your lips. “No need to get defensive, you big cat.”

That disarmed him only slightly.

He dropped his arms, but now held a deep scowl on his handsome face. “I fail to see how you can help out.”

The nature of your relationship with Astarion had longed moved from being merely a forced partnership between two strangers.

He had bedded you more than once and had poured his heart out even against his better judgement.

If there was someone who could help him out, it was you.

Lovers helped each other in various ways.

And he knew it, but his pride and reluctance to show vulnerability often got in the way.

Luckily for him, you had an idea of what could be useful in this case.

You stared down at your shirt and began to undo the top buttons in a very nonchalant way.

Astarion immediately rushed to you, crouching. “What are you doing?”

“This has helped before, right?”

His eyes widened at your silent proposal, but he didn't deny it. How could he? He adored your breasts way too much to turn away such an invitation.

“Are you offering to do it here, though?” he asked with an amused click of his tongue. “I didn't peg you for the exhibitionist type, darling.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks from his cheeky taunt, and you stopped halfway, realising it was enough to offer him a decent view of your chest.

And just like clockwork, Astarion's smugness began to slip as his lips parted in defeat.

It was rather easy to fully disarm him this way.

As such, you rose to your feet and walked back inside with him hurriedly following you, as you untied the strings that held the flaps apart.

You were covered when it came to visual privacy, but the two of you were known to get quite loud at times.

As you sat down on your bedroll, you tilted your head, gaze landing on his lower half.

“Maybe you should undo them.”

He glanced down. “Right.”

Honestly, he didn't have much of a choice. He always got too hard from this, and you wanted to pre-emptively ensure he was as comfortable as possible.

You watched as he tugged at the lacing of his trousers, making room for his cock to grow and thicken freely.

The entire act could be regarded as you merely taking care of him in time of need. 

Its foundation wasn't inherently sexual.

However…

 … it was rather difficult to ignore the rising throb in between your legs.

As much as he adored suckling on your nipples, your yearning for him nearly matched his adoration.

You moved to lay on your side, allowing your breasts to spill out from the shirt, nipples already hardening from the shift in temperature and state of arousal.

In the dark, you were able to spot his crimson eyes glinting briefly as he took the place next to you.

For a few seconds, you simply gaze into each other's eyes in silence.

He was visibly tired.

He needed to trance.

He needed to find comfort.

He needed you.

“Is there something troubling you?” you asked softly.

He snickered. “Besides the worm swimming about in my head?”

You nodded as he shifted closer to you, his cool hand at your hip.

You shivered.

But it was the good kind of shivers.

The type to swell your clit and quicken your heartbeat.

“Darling, we'd be up all night, and I really need the rest.”

Fair enough.

Some forms of distress were better handled this way.

You almost gasped as his hand moved to one breast, caressing the hardened nipple.

“Do you want me pressed up against you?”

Your heart skipped a beat and you pressed your thighs together in reflex.

Gods.

“Do you want to?” you retorted before your voice could crack under the weight of impeding lust.

He shifted even closer, as he squeezed your breast softly im a silent warning.

“I asked you a question.”

It wouldn't take long for you to soak through your undergarments and trousers.

Even though he was clearly exhausted, Astarion adored having you use your words to fuel his own arousal.

“Yes… I think I prefer it.”

This time, you did gasp when he began tracing circles around your nipple with the pad of his thumb.

“And why is that, my sweet?”

He was relentless and you were too transfixed to fight back.

“I enjoy how it feels…” you whispered.

His crotch was now too close to your own and you could feel your clit pulsing evenly from his taunting words.

“And what is it that you enjoy?”

You swallowed, pushing your hips into him. “I enjoy feeling you getting harder and harder…”

And Astarion groaned.

“You're too much of a tease,” he said before pressing a kiss to your cheek. “You'd have me unravel with just words.”

You chuckled through the heavy haze of lust that pooled in your throat. “Likewise.”

He was already hardening against you. You could feel his cock twitch and you could tell he was fighting back the primal urge to roll his hips.

But now wasn't the time.

He needed something else.

His agile fingers kept teasing your nipple, drawing soft whimpers from you.

“I wonder how swollen your clit is for me,” he teased.

But before he could continue, you clicked your tongue. “You talk too much.”

And you moved until you were able to line your breast with his mouth.

His hand immediately dropped and you seized the moment to shove your nipple against his lips, which he promptly parted, welcoming it inside his mouth.

And then he latched beautifully around it..

The most effective way to silence Astarion was to keep his mouth busy.

Your back arched reflexively, as he began to suckle eagerly, hips still flushed against you.

It was hard to keep your thoughts straight from the sight of him hollowing his cheeks with each tug.

You raked your fingers along his soft curls, silently praising him.

His eyes fluttered shut and with an instinctive roll of his hips, you realised just how hard he already was.

It was almost embarrassing how soaked your were for him and how much your body yearned for his cock to be buried deep inside you.

“You're such a good boy…” you found yourself saying before you could think twice.

Astarion was addicted to praise, especially when it came from you.

So, naturally, he moaned in approval.

He looked positively ethereal from this position, completely drunk in you as comfort took over.

But he suddenly pulled away, half-hooded eyes meeting yours. “Call me that again. Please.”

He sounded… desperate.

Oh? This was new.

“And why is that?” you feigned ignorance, caressing his scalp.

He didn't enjoy having his own method of seduction being turned on him, but he was the needy one in this situation.

And so he begged.

“Please… it felt good.”

His twitching cock was proof enough of it.

You glanced at your nipple that was now swollen from his suckling.

“Come here,” you cooed, guiding it into his mouth once again, “and be a good boy.”

“Gods above…” he growled before latching, his hand snaking behing your back and pulling you harder against him.

At this point, you were beginning to wonder if his need to rest hadn't been shoved to the back of his mind.

He seemed way too alert for someone who intended on trancing.

But the answer came soon enough when he let go of your nipple once more.

“Turn around.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Why?”

There was hunger in his eyes. “I need to be inside you.”

It seemed that his submission had been short-lived, and he was once again taking control.

“Are you sure? You ought to rest,” you said, biting your lip and trying your best to ignore the gush of wetness that spilled from you as you clenched.

“I will rest once I'm inside you.”

He seemed determined enough with a sliver of despair dripping from his voice.

You weren't sure this would have the desired effect he sought, but you longed to be filled with him.

Dexterity was what he excelled at, and he swiftly helped you out of your trousers, baring you fully to his gaze.

You could feel your wetness coating your folds as your clit peeked between them, throbbing rhythmically.

A whimper escaped your throat.

A shiver ran down your spine as his fingers parted your folds, so he could stare in awe at how swollen your clit was.

He licked his lips.

“Turn around, darling. Allow me to feel just how warm and wet you are.”

You clenched before doing what you were told, rolling on your other side.

The cool tip of his cock nudged against your backside, smearing precum as he adjusted his position.

You arched into him, parting your legs just enough and bracing yourself for how you'd be struggling at first, even though you were drenched. 

His hand you leg high enough for him to be able to angle himself at your entrance.

You bit your lip and fisted the blanket under you.

His lips were at your ear. “I'll go slow.”

Well, he had to.

There was no other–

He rolled his hips and the tip began to stretch you, causing any coherent thoughts to be put on hold.

Gods… why does he have to be so thick…

“Clenching won't help… you know this by now,” he groaned in your ear, struggling to push along your tightening walls.

You couldn't help but to clench.

It was your own body's way of setting the pace.

“Let me sink fully into you.”

You moaned as he went on, and you placed your hand in between your legs, fingers finding his cock just so you could feel how much it was left for him to slide inside. 

He chuckled. “You adore doing that, don't you? Feeling how hard I am for you as you take me.”

You mewled a reply, keeping yourself from clenching as he sank until you felt his heavy balls against the tips of your fingers.

A sigh of relief escaped your lips as stilled.

“Such a good girl.” he praised, planting a kiss below your ear.

You caressed his balls, the motion causing the heel of your hand to rub against your clit.

You shuddered as he growled.

The difference in temperature would soon be forgotten as your heat enveloped his cock.

But Astarion had seemingly stilled for good.

He let go of your leg, allowing you to press your thighs together, as he wrapped his arm around you, hand settling in between your heaving breasts.

“Are you sure you can trance like this?” you asked, removing your own hand from between your legs.

His lips moved to the side of your neck. “I've been meaning to try this for too long. You're so warm… so tight…”

You clenched involuntarily around him.

“I know you crave my seed, but we should rest,” he said, sounding quite drowsy.

You wanted nothing more than to be filled to the brim with his cum, but that would have to wait.

The clenches were now sparse and far in between as you got used to the prospect of falling asleep with his cock stuffed inside you.

He was probably leaking insane amounts of precum, and that did put a smile on your face.

His cock twitched a few times more, before fully stilling, but as hard as ever.

“Astarion?” you whispered.

His head had slumped behind yours, and he seemed to have drifted off into the early beginnings of his trance.

Your clit was still swollen and begging for attention, but you were willing to sacrifice that if it meant falling asleep this way.

Masterlist

[dicejpg]

I've got a sinking feeling - {Five Hargreeves x GN!Reader}

Synopsis: You are very flirty with Five, and he's tricked himself into believing he hates it. He tells you to stop. Then he learns the hard way how much he took you for granted when you meet someone else.

Note: Five requests would be very appreciated! Thank you to those who sent requests on my last one shot.

(Not Edited)

Warnings: Swearing

Word count: 1.5k

Extra Information: Viisi means Five in Finnish. Five and Y/n were partners in the commission. They look seventeen or eighteen instead of thirteen. This one-shot takes place on the last episode of season one, and the entirety of season two.

----

The Academy, Five's home, has just collapsed--courtesy of Vanya's new powers--and Five ordered his family to meet at Super Star Lanes bowling alley to come up with a new plan of action.

He grabs your wrist, blinking you with him. You're both in front of the bowling alley in a flash of blue.

Five takes a moment to pace around, not entering the building. The crisp, spring air bites at your earlobes as you hug your sides for warmth

"Hey, Viisi, can we go inside?" You look at him with a grimace and a pleading smile. He whips his head in your direction to glare at you, then strolls inside with a roll of his eyes. You follow in his stead.

The interior is heated, thankfully. Five informs the underpaid worker that his "parents" will be arriving shortly to pay for his bowling shoes. He takes a seat adjacent to Lane 6 and you sit next to him.

"So, how was the farewell with Delores? I know you two were close." You lean back in your seat, getting more comfortable while waiting for Five's siblings to arrive.

He does not look at you. His jaw ticks in annoyance, mistaking your genuine curiosity for mockery.

"Come onnn, I know you're stressed, but this is your sister. I'm sure she's reasonable enough not to end the world." You turn towards him, leaning your elbows on your thighs and admiring his pretty face.

"No, it's not that." He scoffs, looking at you with a sneer.

You notice that his tie is crooked so you reach out to fix it, like you often do. It's sort of your thing.

He smacks your hand away and you raise an eyebrow.

"You okay Viisi?" You rub your hand a little, surprised. Normally, he lets you fix his tie with no problem. Although, he would grumble about it a little.

"God- No. I'm not okay." He puts his hands in his hair, gripping it slightly with an exasperated expression. "And stop calling me that."

"What?" You breathe with a smile of disbelief. "What's going on? Did something happen- Did I do something?" You lean away from him a little to give him more space.

"Stop, just stop it with the touching and the nicknames. I'm sick of it!" He looks at you with cold eyes. This is very unusual of him.

You cock your head to the side, trying to understand. "Five, I thought- I thought that was our thing! Y'know, the friendly banter and-"

"I know you're desperate for some sort of relationship with me, but I'm here to tell you that it's not going to happen. We were only ever co-workers." He says through gritted teeth, avoiding your eyes. "I'm telling you to stop pursuing me." 'Pursuing' him?

Usually you would brush this sort of behavior off, ignore it. Tell yourself that it's only because he's stressed. He's always stressed! Thinking back, he was never all that nice to you. Even in your Commission days.

You'd tricked yourself into thinking that maybe he thought you were special, or that you were at least his friend. His confidant.

You look at him with eyes full of hurt, which Five has never seen from you. He almost feels something bubbling up his throat, but the feeling dissipates quickly. "Have I made myself clear?" He says evenly.

You only nod, turning away so he doesn't see the tears prick at your eyes.

Five's siblings come inside and you two don't speak to each other again.

A year and seven months later (for you, at least.)

1963, Dallas Texas:

Five anxiously pulls at his tie after narrowly escaping three armed Swedish men. He had just watched his siblings, along with you, blow up in yet another nuclear explosion. It's left him oddly shaken up about how he treated you back in 2019.

He's pacing down the alley-way between the Commerse and Knox when he notices a flash atop the roof. A large camera of some sort.

A brown haired man closes his window briskly. That's strange.

Five teleports inside, scaling up a flight of stairs with cat-like agility. When he knocks on a door, the one beside him answers, revealing a mouse-y looking man in his early thirties. He looks at him with big, expectant eyes.

"What do you want." His tone is dripping with suspicion.

"Hi, I'm selling encyclopedias for my youth group. I was curious if-" Five gets a door to the face. He huffs, blinking inside after him.

The man, Elliot, jumps, yelping in fear and pulling out a butter-knife from his drawer of kitchen utensils. "H-how did you do that?" He hesitates, astonished.

Five looks at him with amusement. "Don't really have time to explain."

Elliot runs a hand through his unkempt brown hair, gripping the butter-knife in a feeble attempt to protect himself. "You from the Pentagon? Huh?"

"Definitely not."

"CIA? FBI? KGB?"

Five eyes up the kitchen, noticing a coffee pot on the other side of the room. "Is that fresh?" He uses his powers again, blinking himself right in front of the coffee pot.

Elliot screams, whipping his head back and forth between the place Five just was and the place he appeared. "What..." He pants, eyes wide.

"Elliot? You okay?" Five hears a faraway voice from another room. A familiar voice. "Who's with you?" It asks.

You appear from around the corner, presumably from Elliot's bedroom, looking almost two years older.

Five furrows his eyebrows and so do you. He breathes out your name is what you almost register as relief. But, you know better then to think that.

"Oh, Five. You're back." You say casually, nodding and crossing your arms. Five sets the coffee down, unwillingly noticing how you didn't call him by his nickname.

"How long have you been here?" He walks towards you, looking at your slightly different features. You changed your hair, he observes. He says nothing about it.

"A year and a half, I believe." You tap your chin in thought. Elliot glances between you two with interest or surprise.

"You two know each-other?" He puts the butter-knife back onto the counter with a small clatter.

You nod, shrugging. "We were co-workers." You send Elliot a reassuring, genuine smile.

Co-workers. Five doesn't like how the word rolled off your tongue.

He licks his lips, looking away. "You live here?" He asks you, although it was a silly question considering its obvious answer.

You nod with tight lipped smile, approaching Elliot. You fix his hair with your fingers and flip the collar of his flannel back down. "Did he scare you? I told you he could be a bit much."

Elliot exhales a shaky laugh at your words and actions as Five begins to feel a hot, frothy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He changes the subject. "Are my siblings here too?"

Elliot answers for you, looking back towards the teen again. "The other six anomalys- The power surges." He begins to look excited at this new discovery. "They're your siblings?"

Five ticks his jaw, ignoring him. "So they're alive..." He begins to pace around. "I think I stranded them here. Now listen to me..."

"Elliot." You tell him his name.

"Whatever, alright? I got ten days to find them and save the world." He points to you and Elliot. "Now, I need your help to do that."

Elliot is just so happy to be involved, his three year long project finally achieving some major development. He scrambles to find a certain newspaper scrap from his desk drawer. "You know what? I, uh..." He fumbles with it, handing it to Five.

"I always thought that this, uh, mugshot looked like arrival number four."

"Diego." Five reads softly, then he twists around to face you. "You're coming with me." He states.

You hiss awkwardly through your teeth, avoiding his eyes. "Ohh, about that... Actually, Elliot and I were about to play Scrabble. It's Scrabble night."

Five narrows his eyes at you, barking your name. "The world is ending and you're just gonna play Scrabble with this homebody?"

Elliot looks at his dusty wooden floors with a look of dejection.

"Uh, yeah. That's exactly what I'm gonna do." You lean against the door-frame with a bored expression. "I thought you wanted me to stop following you around like a lost puppy."

Five feels strange. "You know what? I don't need this." He blinks away to search for Diego.

When Five returns from the strip club, after a failed attempt of recruiting both Luther and Diego, he decides to test something. His fingers reach for his tie, pulling at it and skewing it. Perfectly crooked.

You couldn't resist fixing his tie, he knew this.

So why didn't you? He finds himself uncharacteristically frustrated about your unresponsiveness.

As he demands that Elliot develop his Frankel Footage, his eyes trail to you occasionally, silently tempting you to straighten his tie.

Your eyes flicked to it once. However, you made no move to adjust it.

Five heaves a dramatic sigh, angrily fixes it, and leaves to look for Vanya.

He messed up before, he realizes. He feels like shit.

[mrsdesade]

What about some Homelander x needy fem reader smut? He made her cry and then he goes soft on her? :)

Say no more anon, here's something for you! It will definitely be something long because I liked the idea so much!

Afterparty;

Pairing: Homelander x fem!super (Ophera as usual) TW: NSFW, mention of drugs, teasing, smut, fluff, aftercare Words count: 2,6k

You and Homelander are attending a night party hosted by Vought, a grand event where the company's high-profile visitors and staff gather to mingle and celebrate.

Was as extravagant as ever, with celebrities, influencers, investors, and a few lucky civilians gathered together in an opulent ballroom. Laughter and music filled the air as people mingled around, engaging in small talk and celebrating.

You've had plenty of conversations, meetings with executives and public appearances with Homelander. By the looks of it, you've both done your part to keep up the public image that Vought has made of you two.

Exausting.

As the night starts slowly to wind down, you find yourselves with a brief moment alone. Homelander looks at you with a mix of tiredness and relief, as if he can finally let his guard down now that you two are out of the spotlight.

"Goddamn, these parties are a pain. I know they're important for the image, but dealing with all those people trying to win my favor… it's starting to wear me down."

He lets out a frustrated huff, his eyes flitting over the crowd around you.

"I swear I could snap the neck of the next person who comes up to me asking for an autograph or a selfie..."

You simply let out a little laugh, but your eyes are wandering around, and your arms are crossed at your stomach, you seem distracted.

Homelander notices the hint of something amiss in your laughter, his sharp senses picking up on the fact that you're not quite comfortable.

"Hey, you alright? You're not your usual self tonight."

''I think I drank too much, I've been feeling strange ever since the party began...but I only drank two glasses of champagne, alcohol usually doesn't cause me problems.''

It's clear that something is wrong, the more he looks at you, the more the signs of your discomfort are visible. Under the beautiful make-up that has been done on you, your cheeks are red, and a few small drops of sweat slide down your temple. Quite strange, since it's December, outside is snowing.

"Two glasses of champagne shouldn't have that kind of effect on you. You're a damn superhero, and a strong one. Are you seriously getting ill from some champagne? I was waiting for a more epic weakness, you know? Something like kryptonite, I don't know."

''If you're here to make fun of me you can go back to the party. Fuck, they must have mixed some kind of drug in my drink. Maybe something that would kill a human has that effect on me. That's the only explanation I have..."

''Someone was stupid enough to drug you? I should find whoever did it and rip their damn head off."

''You're not helping me.''

Your look of disapproval is eloquent, you would like to explain the situation to him better, but you can't do it explicitly. He seems really stupid to you right now. You're holding your chest tight with your arms, your legs are shaking slightly and for the first time you're struggling to stand on your heels.

"What do you want me to do, hold your hand and comfort you? I'm not exactly known for my tender side, you know."

Despite his words, he comes closer to support you with a hands on your back, it seems like you could fall to your knees at any moment.

But immediately he can feel your skin unnaturally warm to the touch. It's at that moment that he starts to notice something unusual, a change in your demeanor. Your breathing is rapid and shallow, and your eyes have a glassy look.

Homelander's eyes widen in realization, as he finally connects the dots.

''...those bastards. They have put an aphrodisiac in your drink.''

''Wow, It took you a while to understand, men never think about these things, I honestly envy you.''

The situation is quite embarrassing for you, but you still manage to want to make fun of him. You have found a stable and comfortable position holding on to his arm, everything seems normal to the people around you, but you know that you will be able to control yourself only for a short time.

He notices the change in your behavior, feeling your hand gripping tighter onto his arm, and the proximity of your body next to his. He clears his throat, trying to maintain his composure.

"Yeah, laugh it up. But you're the one who's struggling to stand still. How the hell did they pull something like this off? I thought Vought security was supposed to prevent something like this from happening."

It's clear that you're not listening to him, you feel the warm from your legs coming up to your throat. You bite your lower lip trying to think as little as possible, but your gaze falls on his hands, causing your mind to drift to absolutely less pure thoughts.

"What are you looking so intently at my hands?''

You lean in a bit closer to him, your playful demeanor turns more tempting, and your voice lowers to a sultry tone, his right hand still holding onto your waist and your running up on his fingers.

''Can't you imagine?''

Homelander tries to maintain his cool demeanor, but he's failing miserably.

Your fingers continue to softly caress his hand, tracing circles on his knuckles, adding to the tension between you two. You take a small step closer, your body now almost pressed against his, and look up at him through your eyelashes, a sly smile on your lips.

"All the things I'm holding myself back from asking you to do to me right now."

His mind suddenly fills with images of what you're hinting at. But he remained silent, faking a smile to the guest who are still walking around the room.

''Come on Homelander, let's get away from this party. I need you. I crave your touch. On me. In me.''

Your lips ghost along his jawline, pressing the promise of a kiss near his ear. You know exactly what to say to convince him, even If your mind is not completely clear, you know what you want and how to get it.

"Please, I'm begging you."

His self-control is about to snap.

''Fine, let's get out of here before I lose my damn mind. Follow my lead and act natural."

He starts guiding you towards the exit, with a certain urgency, casually nodding to guests and saying brief goodbyes as you make your way out of the room.

As you make your way through the crowd, you try your best to act normal and compose yourself, but it's becoming increasingly difficult to keep up the facade. Finally, he finds a secluded corridor and leads you into an empty room, shutting the door behind him.

The moment the door closes, the illusion of control shatters. The tension that have been building up between you two throughout the night reach their peak, and he takes a step forward but you are the first to close the distance and kiss him. Your body wants nothing more than him, the effect of the drug is getting worse and although you haven't said anything, your body language is more than eloquent.

The sight and feel of you, craving for him so openly, is intoxicating.

"God, you're too damn beautiful, Ophera. I've never saw you so messy and needy... only for me.''

''Oh, just for one time, could you just shut up and use your hands for something useful?''

"Eager, aren't we? Don't worry, I'll gladly indulge you.''

He wastes no time in doing as you demand. Your sparkling red dress falls to the floor, but the heat you feel continues to increase, you feel his hands descend on you, and his fierce kisses forbid you to breathe.

He pushes your legs apart with one hand, then he starts caressing you, making you release a sudden moaned whimper. The feel of his leather clad fingers moving so slowly it immediately brings you closer to the edge.

Ridiculous, how is this possible? You think. Ah, yes, that's right, the aphrodisiac, this sensation is like nothing you've ever felt. But it feels so freaking good.

His two fingers slides inside of you, he's enjoying the idea of torturing you. He can feel himself hardening more with every wet sound and moan from you, but driving you insane is going to be way more fun for him than sharing a temporary pleasure.

''...look at you, so needy just for my fucking fingers. You are truly shameless.''

Back against a cold wall, hands on his shoulders, balancing precariously on your heels while your legs tremble and your mind doesn't think clearly, this time he's in control. He's the one in charge.

Time begins to pass. Half an hour, an hour, two, three.

You're whining, you're moaning, and it sounds gorgeous.

What you don't know, is that from the exact moment he saw tears appear in your eyes, he wants to see you cry in his arms. He want to see you desperate for pleasure. You're nearly scream his name.

''You're making such a good show for me, keep going. Keep going...''

He’s enjoying how you’re desperately thrusting against him. Begging him do not stop. Ah yes, sxx between superheroes, durability is the key word to having an extreme fun. Or extreme pleasure. Y'know.

At a certain point you feel his hand move away a little, perhaps his intention was to move on to something more substantial, more thicker. But you immediately block him by grabbing his wrist. Your eyes meet again, and you really are a beautiful mess.

''Don't you dare...to stop...''

''You’ve had thirty orgasms. I'm at zero. How greedy you are.''

Bastard. He’s been keeping count.

''I don't care...touch me again, only one more time. Please...''

Your mind, now overwhelmed by ecstasy, having now the most intense moment of your life. It seems like you can't get enough, and here's his chance to get what he wants. He wants to see you cry.

''Then beg for it.''

His hand that he had leaning against the wall now comes violently wrapped around your neck. Since he can't satisfy himself, he decides that he will have fun in another way. Can't have the pleasure? Then he will have violence. Both are perfect.

Your legs are shaking again and your breath becoming more shallow. You murmur his name in short moans, begging him as he ordered, eyes closed as your makeup slowly begins to run on your cheeks, accompanied by a few small tears.

He is extremely fascinated by you in that moment, you're so lost in pleasure, so desperate for his touch to the point of crying.

''Homelander...''

You cried out as your body finally release, another orgasm coming down hard from your desperate wait. Your body shudders as your walls squeeze tighter around his fingers.

Then he pause, fingers slip out, he stopped for a second looking at you, still lost in the pleasure aftershocks.

Your body is drained of energy, your breathing ragged. You are too tired to speak, the intense moments you’ve experienced leaving you breathless. Your body feels weary and heavy, the afterglow of your passionate encounter still lingering in your core. And then your legs give out, and you stumble, risking falling, but the fact that he is in front of you, saves you.

''Hey-- you feel good? It was too much?''

He asked a bit worried, his arm wrapped securely around you.

A small, weary smile curves your lips, acknowledging his unexpected concern.

''Are you serious? It was...incredible. I assure you I'm fine, more than fine. Just a bit tired.''

He holds you firmly against him, his strong arms encircling your trembling body. He notices your exhaustion and the way your legs give out, nearly toppling over.

''Don't lie to me, tell me If there's something wrong.''

''Dear, I'm being more than sincere right now, do I seem regretful or unsatisfied? I don't think so.''

You laughed, taking him off guards with your spontaneity.

''Well--uhm, yeah okay, good. Now, let's get back to my apartment. The effect of the aphrodisiac has worn off, and soon you will feel cold with only this fancy dress on.''

''Sure...let's get back to the 99 floor.''

You try to move away from him a little, just a little to walk to the door, but you feel the balance missing and you fall back with your hands resting on his shoulders. Your expression is tired but amused, you find funny even a moment like this.

''Where do you think you're going? Come here, you tired diva. You don't have to walk, I'll carry you.''

He lifts you in his arms carrying you as you weigh nothing, and then he let out a short phrase whispered with kindness.

''I'll take care of you.''

He pauses for a moment, realizing the unfamiliar words that just slipped out of his lips. He clears his throat, trying to cover up the unexpected softness in his voice.

Your reaction is one of mild surprise mixed with a hint of amusement. You look at him with a sly smile, raising an eyebrow. Knowing damn well that he's not used to doing such things.

''Oh, what happened to the tough, domineering Homelander? Suddenly, you're acting all caring and loving.''

"Listen, why do you have to be so annoying?"

Homelander rolls his eyes in response to your playful remark. He knows you caught him in a moment of unexpected tenderness.

''Don't get used to it, doll. This is a one-time exception.''

You let out a small, satisfied laugh at his response, knowing you got under his skin again, like usual.

''Oh come on, lighten up. It's quite charming, you know. You playing the concerned and gentle lover.''

''Concerned and gentle lover, that's not really my thing, if you didn't notice.''

He watches you with a hint of skepticism, waiting for your next smart answer.

''So why did you put your cloak around my shoulders when you lifted me up? It was a spontaneous gesture and you didn't even notice it.''

Homelander froze for a moment, caught off guard by your observation. It was true, he had subconsciously done that without even thinking. He lets out a defeated sigh, realizing that you know that he cares, no matter how much he tries to deny it.

''Fine, you win. I didn't like seeing you shivering. And maybe because I…care.''

"Aww, who would have thought? The great Homelander, soft? For me? How unexpected. Maybe I should thank the one who put the drugs in my drink, without his intervention I would never have discovered this side of you.''

You smile warmly, teasingly caressing his hair with your hand while he's walking outside the room, It's now late at night and there's no one one around. Only the silence and the neon lights of the big Vought tower.

You hug him, staying close to him, safe in his arms, enjoying that moment of kindness that you don't know if it will ever return. But for tonight that's fine. You give him a gentle kiss on the cheek and let him carry you to his room.

''Damn you for making me say things like that.''

He whispered, after after gently placing you on the bed, where you will sleep together that night. You sink into the soft bed, a soft smile on your lips. You look up at him in the dim light, waiting for him. That smile will be his downfall, or yours, who knows.

He's secretly pleased by all of your lovely reaction, and he adores you so damn much, but he will never admit it.

-------

Thanks again for the request, it was really entertaining to write, hope you like it! Kisses <3

[genderless-naper]

muddy problems

trafalgar law x gf!reader

warnings: fluffy law

sfw, wc: 1k, lowercase intended !

helping your tired law through shower time

law walks through the halls of the polar tang tirelessly. he didn’t expect the most recent encounter with another pirate ship to be such a headache to handle. the captain of the opposing crew was was a devil fruit user: the user of the mud-mud fruit.

needless to say, it was hard for anyone to contain their laughter when law walked passed looking like he just got out of a mud bath. he wouldn’t usually be this forgiving, but he was simply too tired to deal with them. he kicked off his shoes before entering his room.

he saw you laying in his bed reading a book without a care in the world. his gaze softened slightly while drawing a loud breath to release some tension. you looked up at the raven-haired man.

you stared. he stared back.

you hold a hand over your mouth to suppress a laugh. it took every fiber in your body to restrain yourself from rolling on the floor in laughter.

you cleared your throat to greet him, “who knew the tough trafalgar law would fall victim to a mud bath in the middle of a fight?”

law doesnt reply to your statement. instead he focuses on discarding ed his current wear to avoid getting the place more dirty. he had bigger problems to worry about than some rhetoric questions. he needed to get clean fast. the mud on him started to make him feel suffocated.

he looks for a clean pair of clothes to wear for post shower. you close your book and put it on the bedside table so you can follow him. still fighting back laughs you continue to ask, “how many shampoo rinses do you think it takes for that mess to get out your hair?”

law sighs in his tired state and mumbles, “hopefully no more than 3”

you cant help but let a laugh escape, “just 3?? don’t you think you’re being s bit too generous captain? i was thinking at least 5!”

he groans quietly. it was clear the doctor was more exhausted than he would like to admit. you felt bad for your poor lover. as much as you would like to pick on him and his unusual circumstances you knew that wasn’t what law needed right now. he needed your support.

you ran to the bathroom to get his shower started for him. you made sure the temperature was just how he liked it. he followed momentarily; throwing his clean clothes on the shelf of the bathroom as a yawn escapes his lips.

he continues to discard the remainder of his mud soaked clothes while carefully placing them in a bag. he checked the temperature before getting in. another sigh escaping his lips. you smiled contently watching the way the water rolls off his skin, his muscles stretching with every moment, and how his lips part perfectly.

his rinses his hair with shampoo over and over. each wash just made him feel like the mud would never get out. after a few more moments he gives up. he decided to sit for a moment and let the water hit his strained body as he rubs his tired eyes.

you sympathize with you poor boyfriend. you turn the water off and rub his tense shoulders, “maybe i should help you baby? you see like you’ve had a long day”

law, being too prideful to accept your help, shook his head and responded lowly, “i just need a second..”

you hum, “you take a second and ill work on getting this mud out your hair.” you lathered the soup onto your palms and massaged it into the raven colored hair. you were on your knees to match his height as he sat. you massaged his scalp in order to clean every strand.

law’s senses of alertness slowly slipped away. he closed his eyes, and tried his best to keep his head up straight. after swaying from side to side you decided its best to rest his head on your chest as you worked through his hair. he created a soapy mess on your shirt. the man was too engulf in his own drowsiness to notice. you hum a sweet tune into his ear and watched as most his tense muscles relaxed with your touch.

he would never let anyone close like he has with you. sometimes he feels stupid to let his barriers come down for you, and feeling too afraid that something bad will happen to you as well. as much as law protests against himself he still finds himself sharing cherished intimate moments with you.

you guide the heavy-lidded man through the rest of his shower while reciting words of encouragement. getting your shirt wet in the process was a small price to pay to help your lover. once the shower concluded you turn it off and hand him his towel.

the tattooed man dries himself with it slowly. he slightly furrows his brows and points to your shirt, “why are you all wet?” completely oblivious to the consequences of his actions. you shook your head and giggled, “no specific reason baby”

he gave you an apologetic look after realizing he was the reason for your current soaked state. you quickly disregarded with lines of ‘it’s okay’s and ‘don’t worry’s. you gave him his clothes once he’s ready.

he grabs your arms and holds them up to pull your drenched shirt off. he wore his clean shirt on you, “i dont want you to get sick y/n, especially if its because of me.” you were going to protest against, but after seeing the look of anxiousness taking ahold of him you decided its best to accept his acts of kindness.

he always does everything in his power to make sure you are well; afraid to live in a world where he has to grieve you along with other which were once present in his life. it shows very much during moments like these. you place a few kisses on his lips feeling luckier than a lottery winner. you helped your tired boy navigate through the rest of his routine before he fell into bed. he lifted the cover up to make sure you followed in his steps. the mud-soaked version of himself from earlier that day became a part of the past. he enjoyed what he had at that very moment, and that was your beautiful self with a smile that lights your face. it was truly able to cure any disease of his heart. that night law had no trouble falling into an imaginative dream where you two lived together without a care in the world

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 Extra Credit

♡ featuring: gojo & geto x f!reader

♡ summary: class is getting too hard for you, so you seek help. unfortunately, the help you receive is not what you expected. wc: 2.8k+

♡ cw/tw: manipulation, praise, light degradation, throat-fucking, edging, threesome, spit roasting, rough sex, pretty mean gojo, cum play

notes: helloo! a slightly shorter one this time. hope u like :) my first jjk fic!! art by _3aem on twitter <3

You twiddle your sparkly pen with your fingers and eye the blank page. Chemistry-201 started an hour ago, and you’ve got nothing to show for it. Truthfully, you were exhausted thinking about having to attend. College was easy for the most part, even calculus. You couldn’t tell anyone the reality behind your performance block in this specific class. The excuse your friends heard was, “The slides are hard to read.” They were hard to read, but they’d probably be clearer if you actually looked at them. What you did like to look at, were the boys who sat two rows in front of you in lecture hall. The one with frosty hair would whisper through the entirety of class, while the quiet one diligently wrote down organized notes. That’s how you picked up their names: 

“Quiet, Gojo.” he snapped, tapping the paper with his pencil as if Gojo would catch the hint. He smiled and poked his temple. “Chill Geto, the best doesn’t need to study.”  

Geto sighs and waves his hand. “Not everything is about you.”  

“Why not?” 

Geto and Gojo you thought. Their names were sweet on your tongue. You squeezed your thighs together, imagining how their names would sound on your lips. On rare occasions, Geto would face your direction. Even though it wasn’t for you, it felt special, like you were the only person in the room. You wanted someone as hardworking and kind as him to notice you. Sometimes you’d catch yourself sketching the back of his head, promptly shredding the page after the bell. What started to unnerve you was Gojo, who was always aware of your shy glances even when his back was turned. His crystalline azure eyes bore into yours and you’d fumble for anything to look at. Even when you daydreamed dirty scenarios, he reads your mind. It made you feel guilty. When your professor dismissed you, you’d scattered up the steps, bag already packed. This strategy was efficient until the day you dropped your book walking out of class. Pale slender hands grabbed it before you could reach it. “Ah! Thank you-” You met eyes with Gojo, smiling above you like reborn divinity. You almost felt the urge to bow. “Gotta be careful, yeah? This shit's expensive.” You nodded another thank you and took the book, hasting away so he couldn’t see your flustered face.  

All these minor incidents accumulated into the major issue currently surfacing; you are on the cusp of failing. Your parents readily applauded the other classes, perfect A’s. Just visualizing the scenario where you show them a D sends you into grief. You vow to change this outcome today. Your final exam is in a month and a half, enough space to master important subjects. No distractions, no Geto and Gojo. You meet with student resources after Chemistry to inquire about your study options and settle on weekly tutoring. You’re determined and prepared to give your all for this exam. 

Next week arrives and you're full of vigor. You try your best to rationalize each problem, no matter how wrong you are; and you were very wrong, frequently. You’re mentally apologizing in advance to your tutor. You see Geto and Gojo quietly bickering. Gojo has long pretty eyelashes, and you can’t stop glancing at them. They swiftly point to you. Nothing unusual, until—for the first time—Geto turns to you. His eyes are fixated solely on you. You're startled and knock over your water bottle, pouring it all over your notebook. A domino effect ensues. The valuable notes you took smear from the liquid, and it drips from the table onto your mini skirt. You stand to dodge it but your open bag tips over and out the chair, spilling the contents all over the floor. The room is silent, and everyone in your vicinity is staring. Time stops as you gather your stuff and leave the hall to dry yourself. You’re in the bathroom now, dying from embarrassment as your brain recalls the moment repeatedly. The sly smirk on Gojo’s face. I have to get over this you thought. Your session is in an hour, and you don’t want to waste crucial experience. Surely it can’t get worse than this. 

You show up five minutes early and patiently wait for their arrival. Fortunately, you’re afforded a closed off workspace with the tutor. You draw dainty flowers in your book until the door creaks open. To your surprise, you see tidy black hair and chiseled features.  It’s Geto. Your personal tutor is Geto. The stars must’ve aligned to dispatch one horrific cataclysm. You contemplate what you could’ve done to the gods for them to punish you so harshly. He pretends that he’s never seen you. “(Y/N), right? My name is Geto, I’ll be tutoring you for the rest of the semester.” His professionalism makes you breathe easier, and you’re relieved, content with maintaining this attitude. Together you set up your notes and the first 15 minutes go without a hitch, simply reviewing the topics you grapple with.  

“A lot of these are early concepts. They’re used in basically every class. Forgive me if this offends you, but how do you not know these?” 

“Ah, I get a bit distracted.” 

“By what?” 

“Oh… um.” You shift your thighs back and forth, pondering a justifiable answer, oblivious to the way Geto ogles them. "I just have a hard time focusing.” 

He scans your tight fitted shirt, then your lips. “I see.” Suddenly, the door swings open. Bright orbs piercing you, capturing you. You drop your head, hoping he won’t recognize you from the scalp. 

“Yo Geto, look at this game I- oops.” 

“How many times do I have to tell you not to barge in while I’m tutoring?” 

“Haha, sorry ‘bout that…wait, I know you!” He exclaims. Gojo snatches a chair and sits so you’re sandwiched between them. Intently skimming the textbook as if you didn’t hear him, he grabs your cheeks and twists you to him. 

“You’re the girl that wet herself today, right?” He laughs. 

“C’mon, she's dealt with enough already.” Your wishful thinking fell on deaf ears; they clearly didn’t forget that easily. 

“Heh, it’s too funny though. Geto, I told you about her remember? She’s always looking at us in class.” he teases. You felt a shiver go up your spine and your face get hotter. “That isn’t-” 

“Shh” Gojo interrupts you. “Tell me, are we more handsome now that you have a closer look?” Your heart drops to your stomach and you stumble over your words. 

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t mean to look. If I made you uncomfortable, I’m deeply sorry.” 

“Nah, it’s cool. I like the shy type.” 

“I think I should go.” You try to rise, but Geto pulls you from your skirt. If they wanted you, they would have you. "I didn’t permit you to leave. Sit. We'll continue.” 

“I don’t know if I should-” 

“Are you disrespecting the time I’m putting in to ensure you end with a decent grade?” he questioned. You went meek, reconsidering the effort you’d be wasting, and how badly you wanted Geto to acknowledge that effort.  

“No. I’ll do it.” His smile is saccharine and alluring, masking the dark intentions pulling at his conscious. 

“Great. Next chapter.” 

You’re eight paragraphs in, a sheer glistening sweat on your legs. You can barely mouth the words. Gojo’s breath is painfully close to your ear, tickling it as he follows along the page, his thumb running under the hem of your thigh high socks. “You wore these for me, yeah?” he whispers. You clamp your thighs, and a scheming grin creeps up his face. Meanwhile Geto’s fingers are behind your neck, brushing it gently with his other hand steady on top of yours. The bare skin contact is disorienting, so much so that you hadn’t noticed you’ve read the same sentence for the past minutes. 

“(Y/N)?” You snap out of an affectionate trance. “Huh?” 

“Is something troubling you?” His nose is inches away from yours, taunting you. 

“Mm, no.” Your trembling voice exposes the truth. “You seem frustrated. Do you need help alleviating that frustration?” Such a straightforward question is nerve-wracking. You've only imagined this in your dreams, calling out both of their names. The scandal that unfolds if people find out would be reputation-shattering for you. But desire burning in your dampening core blanketed those worries. “I don’t know what to say.”  

“(Y/N), when someone offers you something, you should accept it and say thank you” Gojo adds. His hand slides deeper in your socks, groping the plush fat. 

“Do you want it, yes or no?” The decision tosses in your mind. Until you finally manage a soft-spoken “yes.” Instantly, the air in the room switches, their gaze encapsulating you like prey. You feel smaller.  

“This won’t be easy, though. I’m teaching you concentration. If you get through this quiz with us touching you, I’ll reward you. Understand?” Geto says. You nod at him like a lost puppy, ready to please him. 

The quiz starts with ten entry-level questions. You get to work, and they get to devour you. Gojo parts your legs, salivating from the strings of slick sticking to your underwear and inner thighs. He litters kisses and lustful bruises along your neck, his hands trailing to your chest. Geto’s hands hike your skirt up and move to your underwear, circling the erect nub through the fabric. You’re on question three and can hardly achieve a scribble. He pulls your panties to the side and spreads your folds, toying with the mess. You have a loose hold on his shirt that tightens whenever he presses on the bundle of nerves. His fingers are skillful, knowing the right buttons to push to coax whimpers out of you. Meanwhile, Gojo tugs your shirt up, exposing your nipples to the cool air. He flicks one with his tongue, then envelopes your breast in his warm wet mouth. He sucks and bites the bud, tasting it and fondling the other. He moans, light pops as he comes up, gazing into you for approval. The walls are thin, you can’t get caught, but you need them deeper. They make you fall apart just to punish you, a sharp sting from Geto’s palm directly on your clit.  

“If you can’t keep your voice down, I’m gonna stop. Are you sure you can handle it?” Geto teases. He definitely isn't stopping, but your panicked, yearning expression made his cock twitch. 

“Yes! I’m sorry, I can be quiet.” 

“I don’t know, you seem to be struggling. You wanna make me proud, right?” You nodded frantically. 

He places a gentle, almost manipulative kiss on your lips. “Good girl. Then you’ll take everything I give you.” His digits glide vertically on your vulva until they slip inside, scissoring and massaging your g-spot. You somehow make it to question 6, but your mushy thoughts aren’t sure if they can recover from the rhythmic pumping and juices running down his knuckles. Gojo releases you for air, bite indentations dotting your mounds. “Geto. Switch?”  

“Okay.” He says and begrudgingly drags his fingers out. You whine from the emptiness, but Gojo quickly replaces him. He gets under the table on his knees and forces your legs wider, appreciating the upcoming feast. His pink muscle licks a long harsh strip against you. The new sensation makes your back arch, and your hand cards through his hair.  

“Too sensitive? Aww.” He moves roughly, slurping and lapping up everything he can get his mouth on. His grasp is tight, even with all your strength pushing him off is a challenge. Question nine passed, still shaking and stuttering. Geto pinches and twist your nipples but showers the pain with loving kisses. He pecks the back of your neck. You’re so close you start to involuntarily buck your hips. Gojo stops immediately, grinning at your frustrated cries, your essence covering his jaw and chin. “Don’t come yet, wanna feel you.” 

“One more question, baby.” Geto says, caressing the swollen marks. You put your heart into finishing the last problem, an unintelligible number for your response. You can’t decipher the words; all you want is Geto’s praise. He takes the pencil out of your hand and counts the correct solutions. 

“8 out of 10. I’m so proud of you, angel.” None of your answers were right. But he relished how effortless it was to make you happy, how much you starved for his attention. He searched to lock you away where no one could find you. You’re beaming nevertheless, smothered by his kindness. 

“C’mere. Taste yourself.” Gojo husks before French kissing you, tongues intertwined. He moans into your mouth. “Want your reward now?”  

“Please” you rasped, and he picks you up, pressing your stomach flat on the desk. Geto wraps around in front of you. He pulls his throbbing cock out and lifts your chin, propping it on your lips. “Open.” he coos. You loll your tongue out, looking up at him expectingly. He smiles and drives his length into you until your nose is flush with his pubes. His cockhead is deep in your throat, it burns, but you’re the center of his world in this moment and it makes it worth the ache. You worship it, savor him. Hollowing out your cheeks, you start bobbing your head. You drool on his balls, gently sucking them and tracing his veins with your tongue. His moans are breathy and deep, hand firm on the back of your head to prevent you from bailing. He denies your pleas for air.  

Gojo taps his leaking tip against your clit a few times and slides himself in, whimpering from the soaking grip molding to his shaft. “A-ah, so tight.” he choked. His balls collide with your ass, and your orgasm hits hard. You tremble, eyes rolling to the back of your skull as you try to ride it out. But Gojo doesn’t let you and jerks your arms behind you with one hand. He pounds deep and fast, noisy plaps and squelching fervor pushing your limits; at the same time, Geto is face-fucking you. You were sure students heard the commotion by now. The men ravaging you sent a trail of fire crawling up your body. Tears smear on your face, gagging spit drips from your bottom lip, a mixture of fluids soak your socks, but your fuzzy senses can only drown in their pleasure. The spring coiling in your body is quick. Gojo’s tip kisses your g-spot perfectly and you embrace him. “Hey, you on the pill?” he asks. You're about to answer but he shoves your head down to Geto’s hilt. “Never mind, I don’t care.” 

Geto’s movements quicken. Your disheveled face sends him over the edge. He blesses you with his creamy hot gift, spurting inside your gullet, accompanied by guttural sighs. “Swallow all of it.” You struggle but slowly get it down. You polish off the rest of his twitching length in revere and open your mouth for proof. “That’s my good girl.” He pats your head, and you lean into the warmth. Waiting for his confirmation. 

“You wanna come? I’ll let you come, baby.” 

“Don’t you fucking dare, you do it when I tell you to.” Gojo snaps. Tears prickled your lashes from overstimulation. Your whimpers stream out the room and he laughs through breathy whines. “Little pervert. You want people to hear you getting railed?”  

“It's t’much! Gojo I can’t-” 

Geto cradles your jaw. “(Y/N). Ask him for permission.” He is suddenly stern, and you obey him. 

“Please lemme come!” you babble. His concern is clouded with sin. 

“Yeah? Beg for it.” An orchestra of please’s sing, and you mean it, but Gojo didn’t care. He’d much rather watch your rippling ass and melting figure. Each thrust has you incoherent, and you plead more, enough to satisfy his smug demeanor. 

“That’s better. Now come for me, all over my cock.” His command splinters, and your gushy walls convulse to form a white ring around the base. Gojo’s strokes get desperate as he approaches his release from your slippery heat. He pulls out and holds you in place, a few pumps before he shoots ropes across your ass and paints your vulva. “Yeah- you’re so fucking good.” he moans, mumbling and quivering through his orgasm. 

They get dressed while you lie on the desk. You’re breathless and trembling, but they’re focused on cleaning themselves up. Gojo gets eye level with you. 

“If you tell anyone, you know I’ll ruin your life, right? Keep it hush.” You can’t speak. He grabs your panties off the floor and pockets them. “These are cute. Imma keep it.” Geto reties his hair and smiles at you. “See you later.”  

They abandon you, covered in come and items strewn across the table. You’re left to wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into. One thing was undeniable, however; you were really looking forward to next week. 

[lyvhie]

do you write for chenle? if so could i request angry sex with chenle? and plotwise/anything else can be up to you, you always make such creative works 😍

desert island | zcl

boyfriend!chenle x fem!reader (18+ mdni)

summary: a stupid little game seems to be enough to make you speak with recklessness and throw reason out of the window in the heat of the moment. but since you were unwilling to be so easily placated, chenle was decided to talk some sense into you.

a/n: sorry for being so late, anon 😭! ofc i write for chenle, how could i not?! thank you for the kind words, i hope you like it!! 😚

cw: smut, use of 'whore' (only once), hair pulling, slighty spanking, begging, reader is DRAMATIC, chenle is kinda mean, petnames.

honestly, you can't think of a better partner than chenle. he's always so sweet, caring, and considerate, and you could talk for days about every single thing you love about him because you really love him a lot.

the same applies to chenle, who thinks you're so perfect for him. every time he wakes up and looks at you beside him in bed, he can't help but think how lucky he is to have someone like you by his side.

arguments in your relationship were rare, but not non-existent. like any kind of relationship between two people, disagreements occasionally arose.

you generally handle them with a mature conversation about the issue once the dust has settled, addressing the problem and coming to a mutually-agreed solution. however, sometimes, you both seem to be unable to agree on a resolution to the problem at hand. that was the case now.

it was a real stupid argument. you were released from work early and figured it would be a good idea to stop by the studio to see chenle and head home with him. as it turns out, it was a surprise when you showed up without prior warning, but he was happy to see you and it made your visit all the more meaningful.

during chenle's break time, the dreamies were engaged in a light and silly conversation about "who would you take to a deserted island." it was an innocent little game to pass the time and have some fun. when it was chenle's turn to answer, he surprised you by not choosing you, but one of his staff’s. this simple and seemingly harmless choice was the root of your trivial fight.

you didn't react immediately, simply laughed it off as if it was nothing but chenle could tell that something was off the moment you both got into the car. the car ride was unusually silent on your end, and chenle began to brace himself as he realized you were upset about something. he mentally prepared himself for whatever he felt was about to come as you walked through the front door.

"so..." he began in a gentle but careful tone, sensing there was an underlying issue you weren't being open about.

"nothing," you casually responded with a shrug, walking off and towards the bedroom. "it's nothing," you repeated again, but he wasn't fooled by your tone.

following close behind you, he asked another question, "is it me? did i do something to upset you?" he raised his eyebrows at you expectantly, wanting to get to the bottom of the problem.

"no" was all the response you gave him, short and sharp just like before. as you continued into the bedroom and began to tidy up the already clean room, he leaned casually against the doorframe and observed you closely. he didn't say a word because he knew he would just have to wait until the "you know what's funny?" and there it was, your signature phrase for when you're in a bad mood, spoken in a slightly annoyed tone. he knew this would be coming.

"no," he said calmly and crossed his arms, looking directly at you and watching you make some futile attempts to find anything out of place in the already immaculate room. "please, enlighten me," his gaze intent as he awaited the inevitable moment of venting that always ensued after that phrase.

"of course you wouldn't," you replied back, feigning innocent ignorance and even rolling your eyes as you dramatically shook your head and sighed. "i didn't expect you to have kept a list of all the female entertainers you would consider taking to a desert island. so why don't you enlighten me on your priorities?”

for a moment, chenle's eyebrows were raised in a mix of confusion and slight surprise as he heard your words, genuinely believing that you were joking or being sarcastic. then came his soft laugh, as he was almost incredulous that you kept up this attitude with your arms crossed and a serious expression. "baby," he spoke gently but firm as a warning, "you can't be serious right now. it was an innocent little game that you shouldn't take so seriously.”

"oh really?” your words laced with mockery. “an innocent little game? then it shouldn't bother you to explain to me why i wasn't even on your radar. it was a stupid game but your answers just proved to me that i'm an afterthought, even in your fantasies. at least in your fantasy of the women you'd be willing to take to a godforsaken place with no hope for escape. so am i so insignificant that i didn't even make the cut for you?”

chenle pauses for a second to process the situation and your words, running his hand through his hair in an almost unconscious gesture of self-soothing. if he didn't know you better, he would've thought you were crazy, but after that incident with the stupid "worm" question, he knows that you're just dramatic.

he approaches you, cupping your face in his warm hands as he gazes at you.

"baby, please," he pleads, the affection evident in his voice as he tries to reason with you. "look at me," he says softly, using his palms to gently guide your eyes to focus on him. once your eyes meet, the intensity of his gaze deepens as his expression softens and his voice grows more gentle. "this was just an innocent game and you're blowing it out of proportion. please don't be like this. i love you and you know it. there's no other woman that compares to the love i have for you, not in a thousand lifetimes would i ever take anyone else over you. you're mine and always will be.”

even though you could sense the sincerity and love behind his words, you maintained a guarded demeanor, refusing to give in to it until you were completely satisfied with his explanation.

you know, you had a sharp tongue and an even sharper intelligence than some could imagine when you chose to use it. unfortunately, this was a time where the first worked, but the second didn't.

“well, it seems that you just have to be on a desert island to fool around with someone else, right? you just want to enjoy some fun and pleasure while away from the world,” your tone became sarcastic as you continued challenging his words and reasoning. “so who are you going to enjoy it with?”

your thoughtless words brought you to this moment. one of chenle's hands was intertwined between the strands of your hair in a tight grip, pushing your head against the softness of the mattress, forcing you to stay with you ass up. your eyes slightly red, your face puffy and wet, both from sweat and crying.

“fucking. stubborn. whore,” he spit out, each of his words was accompanied by sharp thrusts that made your bones shake and you gasp, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. “can't listen to what i say for not even a damn minute,” he slapped your ass hard, making you whine and your eyes water again.

you lost track of time during this torment. it felt like torturous hours, where he kept teasing, edging you, not even letting you touch him, your ass was already marked by his hands, you felt the sting of each spank he gave, saying that brats like you don't deserve to feel good.

chenle knows you with the palm of his hands, he knows what you like, what makes you melt and he would definitely use it against you. his slow but powerful thrusts hit all the right spots that make you see stars behind your eyelids, his hand slipping between your legs to rub your clit in equally slow circles.

“…. ase…” your tiny, teary voice echoed through his ears. “oh?” he scoffs, pulling you by your hair until you were close enough for him to whisper in your ear. “i can't hear you, say it again,” his warm tongue sliding through your neck, sending you goosebumps.

“p-please…” you raised your tone slightly. “i'm so, so sorry, chenle,” the desperation and pleading in your voice is obvious, as is the remorse that you felt for your actions. “please, please, let me cum, please, just once, please,” the need seeping through every word, begging for relief and satisfaction.

a smug grin crept up his face when he heard your desperate tone. he loved how hopeless you sounded. he loosened his grip on your hair, pulling you into a kiss as he stopped his thrusts to savor the moment. his hand moved away from your clit to held your cheek as his tongue invaded your mouth, completely taking over the kiss.

your emotional state was so volatile right now that you honestly felt like crying. chenle knew that you loved kissing him, and by constantly pushing you away, he knew it was torturing you. your attempts at kissing him were met with a painful slap to your cunt, almost as punishment for trying to force yourself on him.

this simple yet deeply cherished kiss was enough to make you melt completely. you were yearning to feel this level of affection again after he kept pushing you away from him, it was all you were craving since he pushed you down onto the bed and shoved his cock inside your pussy.

as he pulled away from your lips, leaving you desperate for more, he let out a short, breath laugh at your reaction. he found it amusing how you chased after him to continue the kiss, but he was quick to remind you who was in control here by just pulling on your hair to keep you in place, making you whine pathetically.

"well," he purred against your ear, moving his hand caressingly over your body. he made lazy circles on your soft skin, lingering on your belly, you suddenly felt him be a lot more gentle. "since you asked so nicely, should i give you what you want, baby?" he raised an eyebrow teasingly as he waited for a response from you and all you could do was nod fiercely, letting small pleas of "yes, please" roll off your tongue as you awaited his move.

chenle hummed, feigning deep thought as he observed your face. He worked hard to maintain his composure and keep from showing his mischievous, devilish smile as he saw the light of hope that your expression lit up. "okay," he said finally, "i think you seemed remorseful enough,” his words were enough to bring a jolt of excitement to your system, you felt a rush of adrenaline course through your veins and every single muscle in your body tensed up, waiting intently for him to give you what you wanted.

with a light kiss on your lips, he turned you over and positioned you so you were laying on your back. hands that had recently been mistreating you were now caressing your body delicately, as if you were the most delicate thing ever made. his kisses traced your jawline before moving to your neck and breasts, making you think that the wait had been worth it. the punishment had ended here and he made you believe that the only thing you deserved now was his gentle touch and loving kisses.

he straightened his back, the movement causing his hands to move from your sides to the back of your thighs. in one swift motion, he lifted your legs and pressed your knees against your chest, and the sharp sob that escaped your lips was all the confirmation he needed that he has you right where he wanted you.

you felt his tip teasing your clit and your entrance, your pussy glistening from how wet you already were, his hard cock sliding inside you without any difficulty, your warm, gummy walls welcoming him as he filled any remaining space in your pussy.

“you feel so good, don't you?” his eyes fluttered shut in pleasure, and a low grunt slipped past his lips as he threw his head back slightly in a gesture of complete relaxation. he would never tire of this feeling that was almost overwhelming at this point. this applied to you as well, your hands gripping the sheets tightly as you moaned softly, feeling just how deep inside of you he was.

“you feel so damn good,” he whispered in a low, husky tone as he begins to thrust into you relentlessly, his tip kissing your cervix every time his hips slammed back into you, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at the feeling.

he increased the pace, leaning closer towards you. the full weight of his body was now pressing onto you, keeping you down and pinned to the bed but there's no resistance from you as you are simply overwhelmed by his size and intensity.

he had been playing with you for such a long time that it didn't take very much effort at all to push you over the edge. your moaning and whimpering got louder, your body tense and your breathing more shallow. your voice was coming out in a pitch that was nearly unrecognizable, with a few "thank you's" and some other incoherent words escaping your lips, your pussy clenching around him—he recognized this as the ultimate sign that you were approaching your orgasm.

“are you close, baby?” he asked even though he already knew the answer. “y-ye—” you were interrupted again by another hard thrust that made you let out a soft yelp. he grunted as he felt your muscles clenching around him once more, gripping him tightly. “c-chenle,” you mewled his name, “i-i’m gonna c-cu—”

before you could finish your sentence, he was quick to pull out of you, releasing the grip on your legs, making you let out a soft whine in disbelief when he pulled out without letting you finish, and all you could do was lie there as a deep emptiness washed over your body, your walls now clenching around nothing. you look at him with wide, teary eyes and trembling lips.

chenle’s grin widens when he watched your expression, a look of disappointment on your face as you realized you didn't get to cum as he made you think. he was satisfied in the knowledge that he had denied you the satisfaction you wanted and was pleased with how desperate and frustrated you were looking at him.

"aww, is my baby about cry? " he mocked you, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he reached out to wipe away the tear-filled eyes that now betrayed you. his hand lightly traced the curve of your face, moving slowly and tauntingly, as if he was enjoying your helpless reaction far too much. “that’s what you get for acting like a spoiled little brat,” his voice filled with condescension as watched how your emotional state seemed to sink lower and lower as a result of his words.

"you thought i would just let you have it your way?” he scoffed and shook his head at your naivety. "i thought you would know better by now, baby," his voice taking on a false empathetic edge as he leaned in closer. his voice became softer, his lips pressing lovingly against yours for a quick peek. "aww, no, no, don't cry," he echoed the soothing words with another kiss, teasingly brushing away the tears with his finger. "if you beg good enough, i might give you what you want."

[novaursa]

Firebound

- Summary: King Viserys I reconsiders whom to give your hand in marriage.

- Paring: targ!reader/Harwin Strong

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is twin sister of Rhaenyra, is bonded to a dragon and has striking resemblance to her grandmother, Alyssa. These events happen right after Chasing the Inferno. To read all chapters in chronological order, or more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 5 335

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The small council chambers, typically a place of solemn decisions and whispered intrigues, now felt unusually silent as the last of the lords took their leave. King Viserys I Targaryen, his fingers tapping a slow, rhythmic beat on the polished wood of the table, watched them go with only half an eye. His thoughts were elsewhere, tangled in a knot of confusion and reluctant acceptance.

As the heavy wooden doors closed behind the departing council members, only two figures remained in the room. The first, of course, was the king himself, his brow furrowed as he leaned back in his chair. The second was Lord Lyonel Strong, Hand of the King, who was decidedly less relaxed. Lyonel's usual calm and thoughtful demeanor had slipped into something less certain. His hands clasped together tightly on the table before him, and his eyes shifted occasionally to the king, searching for a clue to the nature of this unexpected private audience.

Viserys let the silence stretch, giving him time to gather his thoughts. He knew he had to approach this conversation delicately, but the memory of what he had witnessed at Rhaenyra’s and Laenor’s wedding feast still played vividly in his mind. There had been laughter and merriment, to be sure, but his focus had been split. He had watched with the intent of a father seeking assurance for one daughter, only to find himself worried over another.

The way you and Harwin had slipped from the feast, the looks exchanged between the two of you, had been impossible to ignore. Viserys had spent too much of his attention on Rhaenyra, and now it seemed that you, his other daughter, posed a similar predicament. It was a problem he had not foreseen, though he supposed he should have. After all, you were Targaryen through and through, with the fire in your blood as surely as your twin sister. But fire, as Viserys well knew, was a tricky thing to control.

He sighed, finally breaking the silence. "Lord Lyonel," he began, his tone far softer than it usually was in these chambers, "I find myself in need of counsel of a rather... delicate nature."

Lyonel’s eyes narrowed slightly, though he gave a courteous nod. "I am at your service, Your Grace, as always."

Viserys allowed himself a faint smile at the Hand’s careful response. "You are a wise man, Lyonel. A man of honor, integrity... and, I hope, discretion."

"Discretion is often the better part of honor, Your Grace," Lyonel replied, though his voice betrayed a hint of nervousness. It was not often the king prefaced a conversation in such a way.

Viserys straightened in his chair, his gaze fixing firmly on Lyonel’s face. "Tell me, Lyonel... what is your opinion of my daughter? Y/N, that is."

There it was, the question that had been eating away at him. He saw the flicker of surprise in Lyonel’s eyes, quickly masked, but not quickly enough. It confirmed what he already suspected: Lyonel knew something.

"Princess Y/N is..." Lyonel hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "She is a lady of great spirit, much like her sister. She carries herself with the grace and strength one would expect of a Targaryen. She is... much admired."

"Admired," Viserys echoed, his voice carrying a subtle note of amusement. "Yes, I have seen as much."

Lyonel shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable under the king’s scrutiny. "Your Grace, if I may ask... what troubles you about the princess?"

Viserys considered his next words carefully. He could not afford to be blunt, not when the matter at hand was so precarious. But subtlety had never been his strong suit, and the memory of that stolen glance between you and Harwin gnawed at him.

"Lyonel, your son..." Viserys began, and immediately saw the flash of recognition in Lyonel’s eyes. "He is a good man. Strong, loyal, capable. A man who has served the crown well."

"Harwin is a good man," Lyonel agreed, though the tension in his voice was palpable now. "He is... devoted to his duties."

"Devoted, yes." Viserys leaned forward, lowering his voice. "And devoted, it seems, to my daughter."

Lyonel’s eyes widened slightly, but he did not speak. Viserys watched him, watched as the Hand’s thoughts churned behind his eyes, undoubtedly recalling every conversation he’d had with his son about this very matter. Lyonel had likely hoped this day would never come, but Viserys was not a man to ignore the truth when it was placed before him so plainly.

"Your Grace..." Lyonel began, his voice heavy with apprehension, "I assure you, whatever my son has done, it was never his intention to... to dishonor the princess."

Viserys held up a hand to stop him. "There is no dishonor in love, Lyonel. Not if it is true."

Lyonel blinked, clearly caught off guard. He had likely expected anger, outrage even, but Viserys had already fought that battle within himself. What remained now was a father’s desire to see his daughter happy—and safe.

"Your Grace..." Lyonel started again, more cautiously this time, "are you suggesting...?"

"I am," Viserys interrupted, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You once mentioned a potential match between Harwin and Y/N. At the time, I dismissed it. My mind was too focused on securing alliances, on ensuring the strength of the crown. But now... now I see the wisdom in what you proposed."

Lyonel stared at the king, clearly dumbfounded. It took him a moment to gather his wits. "Your Grace, are you certain? A match between Harwin and the princess... it is not what most would expect."

"Perhaps not," Viserys admitted with a soft chuckle. "But it is what I believe would be best. Harwin, if what you say is true, cares for her. And I have granted Rhaenyra the courtesy of choosing her own match... it would be unfair to deny Y/N the same."

Lyonel remained silent, his expression a mixture of shock and something close to relief. The king’s decision was a blessing he had not anticipated, a chance to save both his son and the princess from scandal and perhaps, just perhaps, to see them happy.

"Harwin will be... most honored, Your Grace," Lyonel finally managed, bowing his head deeply. "I did not expect... that is, I am surprised by your generosity."

"Generosity," Viserys mused, leaning back in his chair once more. "Perhaps. Or perhaps I am simply weary of the politics, of the endless games. My daughter’s happiness... it means more to me than any alliance."

Lyonel nodded, though he still seemed somewhat dazed by the turn of events. "I shall inform Harwin of your decision, Your Grace. I know it will bring him great joy."

"See that you do," Viserys said, his voice carrying a note of finality. "And Lyonel, if Harwin wishes to speak with me... to assure me of his intentions... he is welcome to do so."

"Of course, Your Grace," Lyonel replied, rising from his seat with a deep bow. "I shall see to it at once."

As Lyonel turned to leave, Viserys allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. The matter was settled, and while he knew that the path ahead would not be without its challenges, he felt a sense of peace. He had done right by his daughter—both of them, in fact.

As the door closed behind Lyonel, Viserys leaned back in his chair, his thoughts drifting to the future. There would be more battles to fight, more decisions to make, but for now, he could rest easy knowing that he had given his daughter a chance at happiness.

And perhaps, in the end, that was all a father could truly hope for.

Lyonel Strong left the small council chambers with a brisk pace, though the thoughts swirling in his head made his steps feel almost unsteady. The king’s words echoed in his ears, and the disbelief that had settled in his gut still gnawed at him. It was one thing to hope for an impossible outcome, quite another to have it handed to you by the king himself. 

He moved through the Red Keep with purpose, nodding absently to those he passed, though his mind was entirely elsewhere. His destination was clear—he needed to find his son. Harwin had always been a steady rock, reliable and strong, but this... this news was bound to shake even him.

As Lyonel reached the courtyard, where Harwin often trained, the sound of steel clashing on steel rang out. Harwin was sparring with a few other men, his muscular form moving with the practiced ease of someone who had spent a lifetime wielding a sword. Lyonel paused for a moment, watching his son parry and strike with a fierce focus that made him proud, even now. But there was no time for fatherly admiration—this was a conversation that needed to happen immediately.

“Harwin,” Lyonel called out, his voice carrying across the courtyard.

Harwin disengaged from his sparring partner, wiping the sweat from his brow as he turned to see his father striding towards him. He handed his sword to one of the onlookers and moved to meet Lyonel, a curious smile on his face.

“Father,” Harwin greeted him, still catching his breath. “You seem... troubled.”

“Troubled?” Lyonel shook his head, though there was a hint of a smile playing on his lips now. “No, Harwin. Troubled is not the word. I’ve just come from the king.”

At this, Harwin’s expression shifted to one of concern. “The king? Is something amiss?”

Lyonel sighed, a mix of exasperation and amusement. “Not in the way you think. But it concerns you, and the princess.”

Harwin stiffened slightly, a wariness creeping into his eyes. “What about the princess?”

Lyonel took a deep breath, knowing that his son was not going to believe what he was about to say. “The king has decided to grant you a boon, Harwin. He has agreed... to a marriage between you and Princess Y/N.”

There was a moment of silence as Harwin stared at his father, blinking as if he hadn’t quite heard correctly. “A marriage? To Y/N? Father, that’s... that’s not something to jest about.”

“I am not jesting,” Lyonel replied, his tone serious, though there was a glimmer of humor in his eyes. “The king himself proposed it. It seems he noticed more at Rhaenyra’s wedding than we thought. The match is to be made.”

Harwin continued to stare, clearly processing the information. “You’re serious,” he finally said, though it sounded more like a question.

“As serious as the Iron Throne,” Lyonel affirmed, his voice taking on a more reassuring tone. “The king believes it to be the best course, and he has given his blessing. He’s even suggested that you speak with him, to ensure your intentions are true.”

Harwin let out a short laugh, though it was more of disbelief than amusement. “My intentions... true? I’ve been trying to hide my intentions for years, Father! I’ve done everything I could to ensure that the princess’s honor remained intact. And now, the king wants me to confess it all?”

Lyonel smiled, though there was a note of sympathy in his expression. “It seems the king is more perceptive than we gave him credit for. He’s seen the way you look at her, Harwin. And, it seems, he’s not entirely displeased.”

Harwin shook his head, running a hand through his damp hair. “This is... this is madness. I never thought...” He trailed off, clearly overwhelmed by the turn of events.

“Madness, perhaps,” Lyonel agreed, “but it’s the king’s will. And I would think you’d be pleased, Harwin. I know you care for her—perhaps more than you’ve admitted, even to yourself.”

Harwin looked at his father, the disbelief slowly giving way to something warmer, something more hopeful. “You’re certain of this? That the king truly means it?”

Lyonel nodded. “As certain as I can be, Harwin. The king is offering you his daughter’s hand. He’s offering you a future with the woman you love. I’d say that’s a rare gift.”

Harwin let out a long breath, his thoughts spinning as he tried to grasp the reality of it. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Lyonel replied, placing a hand on his son’s shoulder. “But you will need to speak to the king. He’s invited you to do so, and I’d suggest you take him up on that offer. This is not something to delay.”

Harwin nodded, though there was still a hint of that disbelief in his eyes. “I will speak with him. But, Father... this feels like a dream. One that could vanish if I’m not careful.”

“Then be careful,” Lyonel said with a chuckle. “But don’t be afraid to take what is offered to you. This is the chance you’ve been waiting for, Harwin. And if you don’t seize it, I can assure you, the king won’t wait long to change his mind.”

Harwin nodded again, this time with more resolve. “I’ll speak with him. And... thank you, Father. For whatever part you played in this.”

Lyonel smiled, squeezing Harwin’s shoulder. “I only spoke the truth. The rest was in the hands of the gods—and the king.”

Harwin managed a smile of his own, though it was tinged with nervous energy. “Then I suppose I have a king to thank.”

“Indeed you do,” Lyonel said, stepping back. “And Harwin... don’t let your nerves get the better of you. You’ve faced down worse than an audience with the king.”

Harwin let out a short laugh, though it was clear his thoughts were already racing ahead to that impending conversation. “Worse, perhaps, but never more important.”

With a nod, Lyonel turned to leave, giving his son a final, reassuring glance. “Good luck, Harwin. And remember, this is what you’ve always wanted.”

Harwin watched his father go, the reality of the situation finally starting to sink in. He had always known that his feelings for you were dangerous, that they could lead to ruin if ever discovered. But now, with the king’s blessing, what had seemed an impossible dream was suddenly within reach.

It was madness, certainly. But it was a madness he was more than willing to embrace.

As Harwin stood there in the courtyard, his mind filled with thoughts of you—your laughter, your strength, the way your eyes seemed to spark with the same fire that burned in your dragon—he knew one thing for certain.

This was no dream. This was his future. And he would fight for it with every ounce of strength he possessed.

Harwin Strong was not a man easily shaken. He had faced down countless foes in the training yard, stood firm in the heat of battle, and bore the nickname “Breakbones” as a badge of his unyielding strength. Yet now, as he made his way to the king’s chambers, he felt a knot of anxiety twisting in his gut, tighter with each step.

He had known this moment would come eventually, though he had never imagined it would unfold like this. When he was with you, everything seemed to fade away—the weight of his duties, the expectations placed upon him, even the potential consequences of your secret meetings. But now, with Viserys himself summoning him, Harwin could not ignore the reality any longer. The king knew.

The guards outside the king’s private chambers stepped aside as Harwin approached, announcing his arrival with a simple nod. The heavy wooden doors creaked open, revealing the modest yet regal room beyond. King Viserys sat at a table near the hearth, a goblet of wine in his hand, his expression contemplative as he stared into the flickering flames.

Harwin took a deep breath, willing himself to remain calm as he stepped inside. The door closed behind him with a soft thud, leaving him alone with the king. Viserys looked up, a slight smile crossing his lips as he saw Harwin approach.

“Ser Harwin,” Viserys greeted him, gesturing for him to sit. “Come, sit with me. There is much to discuss.”

Harwin inclined his head respectfully before taking the offered seat. His heart pounded in his chest, but he forced himself to meet the king’s gaze, knowing that this was not a moment to falter.

“Your Grace,” Harwin began, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him, “I am honored to be summoned by you.”

Viserys waved a hand dismissively. “No need for formalities, Harwin. We are not in the council chambers now. This is a matter between a king and a man who has served him well.”

Harwin nodded, though he felt the weight of Viserys’s words. There was no escaping the significance of this conversation, no matter how the king framed it.

Viserys took a sip of his wine, watching Harwin over the rim of his goblet. “Lyonel has likely informed you of my decision regarding my daughter.”

“He has, Your Grace,” Harwin replied, keeping his tone measured. “I must admit, I was... surprised by your generosity.”

“Generosity,” Viserys mused, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Perhaps. Or perhaps I simply recognize what is right before me.” He set the goblet down on the table, leaning forward slightly. “Tell me, Harwin—how long has this been going on?”

Harwin’s heart skipped a beat. This was the question he had dreaded, the one that would force him to confront the truth he had kept hidden for so long. He hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words, but found none that could soften the blow.

“For some time now, Your Grace,” Harwin admitted, his voice quieter now. “I did not intend for it to happen... but I could not deny what I felt.”

Viserys’s expression remained unreadable as he listened. “And what is it that you feel, Harwin? What is it that has driven you to take such risks?”

Harwin swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “I love her, Your Grace,” he said, the words coming out more easily than he had expected. “I love her more than I have ever loved anything or anyone in my life. I know it was not my place, but... it is the truth.”

Viserys leaned back in his chair, regarding Harwin with a mixture of curiosity and something else—something softer, more understanding. “Love is a dangerous thing, Harwin. It can be a source of great strength, but it can also lead to ruin. I’ve seen it happen more times than I care to count.”

“I know, Your Grace,” Harwin replied, his voice firm despite the vulnerability he felt. “I have tried to protect her, to ensure that no harm comes to her because of our... relationship. But I know that I may have failed in that.”

Viserys sighed, his gaze drifting back to the fire. “I should have seen it sooner. I focused too much on Rhaenyra, on her future, and I neglected to see what was happening with Y/N. I thought I could control everything, that I could arrange her future as easily as I arranged her sister’s. But the truth is, I cannot control matters of the heart.”

Harwin remained silent, sensing that the king was working through his own thoughts as much as he was addressing him.

Viserys’s eyes flicked back to Harwin, sharp and probing. “Do you know how I came to realize the nature of your relationship with my daughter?”

Harwin’s blood ran cold at the question, but he forced himself to nod. “At the wedding feast, Your Grace?”

Viserys let out a short, dry laugh. “Yes, at the wedding feast. But not just because you both slipped away, though that certainly drew my attention. No, Harwin, it was the way you looked at her. The way you looked at each other. You can tell a great deal about a man by how he looks at the woman he loves.”

Harwin felt his face flush, but he did not look away. “I did not mean to be so obvious, Your Grace. But... I could not help it.”

Viserys waved a hand dismissively. “There is no shame in it, Harwin. You are not the first man to be caught in the thrall of love, and you will not be the last. But I must know—can you be the husband she needs? The husband a princess deserves?”

Harwin straightened, his resolve hardening. “I swear to you, Your Grace, I will do everything in my power to protect her, to care for her. She means more to me than anything. I would die before I let any harm come to her.”

Viserys studied him for a long moment, as if weighing his words. Finally, he nodded, seemingly satisfied. “I believe you, Harwin. You have served the crown well, and you have shown your strength and loyalty time and again. I believe you will make a good husband to my daughter. But remember this—your love for her will be tested. You must be strong enough to withstand whatever comes your way.”

“I understand, Your Grace,” Harwin replied, his voice filled with determination. “I will not fail her. Or you.”

Viserys nodded, his expression softening ever so slightly. “Then it is settled. You will be wed, and I will see to it that the arrangements are made quickly. There is no need to delay what is inevitable.”

Harwin let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, relief washing over him. “Thank you, Your Grace. I am... honored by your trust.”

“Honor and trust are fragile things, Harwin,” Viserys said, his voice tinged with a note of warning. “Do not take them for granted.”

“I will not, Your Grace,” Harwin assured him, his voice steady.

Viserys nodded, rising from his seat with a weary sigh. “You may go, Harwin. But remember, this is only the beginning. The road ahead will not be easy, but if your love is true, you will find your way.”

Harwin stood as well, bowing deeply. “Thank you, Your Grace. I will not forget your words.”

As Harwin turned to leave, Viserys spoke once more, his voice softer, more reflective. “Harwin... I hope you understand the gravity of what you’re undertaking. You are not just marrying a woman; you are marrying into the Targaryen legacy. There will be expectations, pressures... and dangers. But if you truly love her, if you are as devoted as you claim to be, then you will find the strength to face them all.”

Harwin paused at the door, turning back to face the king one last time. “I will, Your Grace. For her, I will find the strength to face anything.”

Viserys gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod. “Good. Then go, and prepare yourself. You have much to do.”

With that, Harwin left the king’s chambers, the weight of what had just transpired settling heavily on his shoulders. But beneath that weight was a sense of purpose, of clarity. For years, he had hidden his love, guarded it like a secret treasure. Now, that love had been given the chance to flourish, to become something more.

And though he knew the road ahead would be fraught with challenges, Harwin felt a fierce determination burning within him. He would marry you, he would protect you, and he would ensure that the love you shared would stand the test of time.

As he made his way back through the corridors of the Red Keep, Harwin allowed himself a small, private smile. The most difficult conversation of his life was now behind him, and with it came the promise of a future he had only dared to dream of.

He would make that future a reality, no matter what it took.

The corridors of the Red Keep seemed to blur as Harwin made his way to your private chambers. His heart was pounding, but not with fear or anxiety as it had been earlier—now, it was filled with a heady mix of excitement and anticipation. The king’s blessing, the prospect of marriage, the realization that the love he had kept hidden for so long was finally allowed to flourish openly—all of it felt almost too good to be true. But it was true, and Harwin could hardly contain himself.

He reached the door to your chambers, pausing for just a moment to steady himself. He had always approached you with caution before, always mindful of the delicate balance they had to maintain. But now... now, everything was different. He could finally tell you how he truly felt, with no fear of repercussions, no need for secrecy.

Harwin knocked lightly on the door, waiting just long enough to hear your voice bidding him to enter before pushing it open.

You were standing by the window, the late afternoon sun casting a warm glow over your form. When you turned and saw him, a smile broke across your face—a smile that sent a thrill through him, knowing that soon you would be his, and he yours, in every way that mattered.

“Harwin,” you greeted him, your voice light and filled with affection as you crossed the room to meet him. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon. Has something happened?”

“Something has happened,” Harwin replied, his smile widening as he reached out to take your hands in his. “Something wonderful.”

You tilted your head slightly, curiosity alight in your eyes. “Tell me, then. What is it?”

Harwin took a deep breath, his heart swelling with the words he was about to say. “I’ve just come from the king. He has given us his blessing. We are to be married.”

The look on your face was priceless—shock, disbelief, and then an overwhelming joy that made your eyes shine. “Married?” you repeated, as if you couldn’t quite believe it.

“Yes,” Harwin confirmed, his hands tightening around yours. “He knows about us, about our feelings, and he has agreed to our match. We will be wed, Y/N. We will be together.”

For a moment, you simply stared at him, the reality of his words sinking in. Then, with a sudden, joyful laugh, you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace. Harwin responded immediately, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close, reveling in the warmth of your body against his.

“I can’t believe it,” you whispered against his shoulder, your voice filled with emotion. “I never thought... I never dreamed this would happen.”

“Neither did I,” Harwin murmured, burying his face in your hair and breathing in your familiar scent. “But it’s real, Y/N. It’s happening. We don’t have to hide anymore. We don’t have to pretend.”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, your eyes bright with unshed tears. “I’m so happy, Harwin. I’ve wanted this for so long... I love you.”

Harwin’s heart skipped a beat at the words, though he had known them to be true long before you ever spoke them aloud. “And I love you, Y/N. More than anything in this world.”

For a moment, the two of you simply stood there, holding each other, letting the reality of your impending marriage settle over you. There was a sense of relief, of joy, but also an undercurrent of anticipation, of the future that now stretched out before you—one that you would face together.

Finally, Harwin cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing gently over your cheeks as he looked down at you. “There’s nothing I want more than to spend my life with you. To be the man who stands by your side, who loves and protects you. And now... now we have that chance.”

You smiled up at him, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “And what will you do with that chance, Ser Harwin?”

Harwin grinned, his heart swelling with love and desire. “I’ll make you the happiest woman in the Seven Kingdoms,” he vowed, his voice low and filled with promise. “I’ll love you every day, with everything I have.”

Your smile softened, and you reached up to brush a strand of hair away from his face. “Then kiss me, Harwin. Kiss me as if we’re already wed.”

He didn’t need any more encouragement. Leaning down, Harwin captured your lips with his, the kiss starting soft and tender, but quickly growing more passionate as the reality of your impending union fueled his desire. His hands moved from your face to your waist, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, pouring all the love and longing he had felt for you into that one, searing connection.

You responded eagerly, your hands sliding up his chest to grip his shoulders, your body pressing against his as if you couldn’t get close enough. The kiss was everything he had ever wanted—intimate, intense, filled with the promise of a future together.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you struggled to catch your breath. Harwin’s hands roamed up and down your sides, as if reassuring himself that you were truly there, that this was truly happening.

“I’ve dreamed of this,” you whispered, your voice soft and filled with emotion. “Of being with you, without fear, without having to hide. And now it’s real.”

“It’s real,” Harwin echoed, his voice husky with the depth of his feelings. “And it’s just the beginning. We have so much to look forward to, Y/N. So many moments like this.”

You smiled, your eyes shining with love as you reached up to touch his face again. “Then let’s make this moment count,” you said, your voice filled with a playful challenge. “Show me how much you love me, Harwin.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. With a growl of desire, Harwin captured your lips again, his hands sliding down to your hips as he pressed you back against the wall. The kiss was hungrier this time, more desperate, as if he was trying to make up for all the time you had spent apart, all the moments you had stolen in secret.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you returned the kiss with equal fervor, your body arching against his. The heat between you was undeniable, a fire that had been kindling for years, now finally allowed to burn freely.

Harwin’s hands slid down to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he pressed you against the wall, your legs wrapping around his waist. You gasped against his lips, your hands gripping his shoulders for support, but there was no fear, no hesitation—only a shared, burning desire.

“I want you,” Harwin whispered against your lips, his voice rough with need. “I’ve always wanted you.”

“And you shall have me,” you replied, your voice equally breathless as you clung to him. “All of me, Harwin. Now and always.”

The intensity of your words, the truth of them, sent a thrill through Harwin, and he captured your lips once more, the kiss growing more frenzied as his hands roamed over your body. Every touch, every caress, was a promise of what was to come—a future filled with love, passion, and the unbreakable bond you shared.

The world outside your chambers faded away, leaving only the two of you, lost in each other, in the love that had been denied for so long but was now free to flourish. It was a moment of pure, unfiltered joy—a moment that neither of you would ever forget.

And as Harwin held you close, his heart swelling with love and anticipation, he knew that this was just the beginning. Your future together was bright, and he would cherish every moment of it, starting with this one.

In the quiet of your chambers, with the sun casting its golden light over the two of you, Harwin finally allowed himself to believe in the happiness that was now within his grasp. And as he kissed you again, slow and tender this time, he knew that he would spend the rest of his life making sure you felt that same happiness, every single day.

[ssahotchnerr]

omg the math homework one but aaron is the one who's bad at math (ok canonically he's probably very good at math) so you go over to his place one day and find him hunched over jack's math homework with his hand tangled in his hair trying to figure out a 3rd grade math problem. and jack has already lost interest and is watching cartoons on the TV while aaron is losing his mind. im thinking of that one incredibles scene where bob is like "THEY CHANGED MATH"

calling bullshit

just the image of aaron losing his complete mind over math 😭 omg <3 cw; mention of food, aaron is just 😭😒🤨🥰

you let yourself into aaron's apartment, takeout in hand. you enter into the usual scene - the lamp's lit in the corner, casting a warm, cozy glow. some laundry is perched on the chair, yet to be put away. jack's sprawled out on the couch, some show blaring in front of him. the only unusual thing, aaron seems to be absent.

"hey jackers." you stand beside him, brushing back some of the wispy hairs draped over his forehead. he doesn't acknowledge you too much, as his eyes are glued to the tv screen, simply murmuring a 'hi' in response. "where's your dad?"

"doing homework."

your nose crinkles in confusion. "homework?"

you receive a nod from him in response, and leave him be in search of aaron. you find him in the dining room, vaguely slouched over the table, frustratedly running his hand through his hair. it's quite disheveled, poking in all different directions. his tie is thrown exasperatedly onto the table as well, the top few buttons of his dress shirt undone, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

"yikes." your tone is half laugh, half genuine concern. "difficult case?"

aaron straightens his posture, leaning his head back to look at you. his sweet brown eyes are heavily annoyed. "take a look at this."

you grimace slightly. "oh, i don't think i would be much help-"

"just, trust me. take a look."

you cautiously peer over his shoulder, expecting to come face to face with gruesome, murderous details of whatever case his team happens to be working on. but rather, you see multiple math worksheets - jack's name in his childlike, messy-yet-legible print in the corner of each.

you bit down onto your lip to refrain from laughing. "oh, this kind of homework."

"why the hell would they change math." aaron gruffs, tossing his pencil onto the table. "it's universal, isn't it? means the same damn thing everywhere. so who cares if you carry the number this way, or line up the problem this way."

"well, i mean-"

"this is third grade math, i'm a grown man and i've been sitting here trying to make sense of this new way how to do it. it's complete bullshit, if you ask me." a large exhale escapes him, his annoyance now heightening into slight anger. "and they say, this is the new simpler, easier way of doing it? again, bullshi-"

"okay." you laugh, placing a gentle kiss on his head. your hands wrap around him from behind, allowing you to soothingly run your palms along his chest. "how about you try and calm down. i brought food, so we'll eat, and you can take a break. afterwards, all three of us will sit down and figure this out. sound good?"

aaron releases another tense breath, relaxing back into his chair at your touch, and nods silently. you turn your head, placing a kiss on his neck. it's the closest skin of his you can reach, and his skin's warm from his aggravation.

not without giving him another kiss, you trail into the kitchen. but, you can hear him mumbling incoherently under his breath. "-everyone ends up using calculators anyway."

[patscorner]

ok, I see you need requests, so here's one, something for Chris where the reader is Jealous?

absolutely!

Defeaning Silence

Summary: Both you and Chris attempt to seal the cracks in your relationship

wc: 1,517

Pairings: Chris x fem!reader

Contains: Swearing, arguing, fighting, insecurities, toxic, mentions of alcohol

______________________________

You and Chris both knew it was coming, you’d seen the signs. You both just chose to ignore the evidence, and delay the inevitable.

Chris and you had gone to Tara’s party. You were less than happy to go, as you were swamped with schoolwork, as well as your boss forcing you to work overtime. The last thing you wanted to do on your day off was be around a bunch of people who were drunk and less than unaware of their surroundings.

But, you hadn’t spent a bunch of time with your boyfriend, and he had invited you to this party. So even though you’d rather be under a warm blanket, watching a movie and eating your favorite snacks, you suck it up and go out.

Everything is going well, as it usually does. You had been glued to Chris’s side the whole time, not having the energy to go out of your way to talk to anyone. Chris wasn’t super pleased with the hesitation you had when he asked if you wanted to go, he felt like you weren’t being super appreciative of the invite he’d given you. He, of course, didn’t communicate this with you, not wanting to cause an argument. So he instead attempted to hide his feelings and just to enjoy your company.

As the night progressed, the more people got drunk, the more irritated you had become, the more the uneasy tension grew between you and Chris. This was unusual for you two, as you were usually that one couple who couldn’t keep their hands off each other. But tonight, you stood uncomfortably at each other's side.

Chris mumbled something along the lines of ‘fuck this’ before turning to you. “Can you at least pretend to be having a good time? You’re really ruining this for me.”

You look up at him, your blood instantly starting to boil. “What? Where is this coming from?” you spit at him. This is truly not the time nor the place for this, both of you being slightly under the influence, and already upset with each other.

“You’re standing here, being all dry and shit, and you're really starting to piss me off. I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt, ‘cause I know you’ve been hella busy. But, come on, you’re not even trying.” he exclaimed, flailing his hands around.

You’re stubborn, so even though deep down you know he’s correct, the last thing you’re going to do now is agree with him. “I am trying, Chris, that’s why I’m still fucking standing here. I do not want to be here, and I’ve already sucked it up. I don’t know what more you want from me.” you say, just as loud as him.

Chris rolled his eyes. “If you’re gonna be all mopey and shit, then you shouldn’t fucking be here.” Chris says harshly, his words laced with venom. Your eyes widen.

“Are you being fucking serious? You asked me to come, I’m here now, so what is the fucking problem?” You both are eye to eye now, screaming in each other's face. You know you should call it quits, sleep this off, and come back to it in the morning, but all logic has left, and you’ve both let the alcohol and frustration from earlier take over.

“My problem is the fact that I feel like I haven’t seen you in about two weeks, and when I try and be a good boyfriend and get you out of the fucking house, your acting like a bitch about it.” he spits bitterly. His words hold a hint of truth, despite his slight intoxication. “I might as well go hang out with someone else.”

You stand in front of him, speechless, as you let what he said sink in. Finally, you find your voice again. “Go hang out, with someone else then, Chris. See if I care.” you say untruthfully. You don’t mean it and he knows it.

He laughs even though this situation is far from funny. “I’m not falling for that again and you’re fucked up for trying to put me there.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh, finding his implication shocking. He’s referring to a party you guys went to a while ago.

You’d only been dating for three months, so nobody really knew about your relationship. You had gone to a party, one that was far more packed than you thought it’d be, so you lost Chris pretty quickly. You’d had an argument before the event, so you assumed he had gone to hang out with his friends.

But after a while, you found him, talking to a girl who was the exact opposite of you. Her hands were on his chest, and his arm was snaked around his waist. You’d seen them talking, and you watched as she pulled him in for a kiss and how he didn’t pull away as their lips interlocked.

When they pulled away, he locked eyes with you, and you stood there, in shock. His eyes widened as he made his way to you, but you were already out the door. But he was fast, and he was able to talk you into letting him take you home so you both could speak privately. The car ride was quiet and awkward because, of course, it was.

You’d gone home that night, and the next morning, he explained himself. It wasn’t a good explanation, but you had always believed in second chances, so you let him attempt to make it up to you.

That didn’t stop you from having your own insecurities, though. After the party, you had him under a microscope. Every party, if you saw him talk to another girl, you’d be pissed for the rest of the night. Chris wasn’t able to do anything with anyone of the opposite gender, all because you were scared he’d kiss them again.

This led to a plethora of apologies and Chris practically begging you to relax. Your jealousy and his prior infidelity made it impossible for you both to have a positive relationship. It had turned toxic extremely quickly, but eventually, it got better. After long talks, you both attempted to work out all the issues you’d had.

Tara’s party was the first party you’d gone to since then, which was a year ago.

Back to the present, you were still staring at each other with such hatred. It’s like that flipped a switch in Chris. He realized you were both still hanging onto the past and it wasn’t going to get any better if you didn’t heal first.

He sighed deeply before grabbing your hands lightly, dragging you out of the party. “What’re you doing, Chris? Look, you can stay, I don’t care.” you ramble, wanting nothing more than for him to enjoy himself.

He opens your phone and orders you an uber, without saying a word. He hands it back to you and you look at it, then back at him. “We need to talk tomorrow. When we’re sober and cooled off.”

You don’t say anything, but nod knowingly. Chris sits down on the steps, and you follow as the silence surrounds you. Unfortunately, the quiet had become a recurring theme in you and Chris’s relationship.

When the uber arrived, Chris walked you to the car, and opened the door for you. Before you get in the car, Chris kisses your forehead. You smile sadly at him. “I’m sorry.” you mumble.

“I know, love, me too.”

The next day, Chris showed up at your apartment. You could tell by his demeanor what was coming. You both knew. It was only a matter of time.

“I’m sorry. Us being together is not healthy. And I know you know. We need a break. I just- I feel like I can’t breathe. It’s not just your fault, I know that. But you and I both know this isn’t good for us.”

At first you were in denial, knowing how much you loved him. “We can fix this- please, we can figure it out, we always do.” you begged tearfully.

Chris shook his head, water brimming his eyes as well. “Baby, I’ve figured it out. We’re only hurting each other.”

“You’ve thought this through, haven’t you?” you ask, swallowing your pride and biting the bullet.

Chris looks down. “The truth hurts, baby.”

“Lie to me then.” You whisper. Chris looks at you and smiles sadly.

“Baby.”

“I know. I just think there are other ways to solve this, a way where we don’t have to leave each other. Tell me what I can do to fix this. Please. Anything.” you're sobbing now, feeling pathetic.

Chris pulls you into an embrace rubbing his hands up and down your back. Eventually, he pulls away, his own tears falling.

“Thank you for being the light of my life.” Chris says, grabbing his keys and heading towards the door. Before he walks out he turns to you and looks at you with sympathy.

“We almost made it.” And with that, he closes the door, leaving you in the deafening silence.

______________________________

taglist: @kqyslyho3 @sstvrnioloo @mattsturniololoverr @theyluvkaitii-blog @chrattstromboli @Sillysillygyal @elliesturniolo1 @coochiedestroyer1 @Freshlovah0e @starsturns234 @g-lazyy @strnlsblog @ecliphttlunar @sturnioloblogs @y0urm4m @thenickgirl @muwapsturniolo @breeloveschris @worldlxvlys @freshloveforthefit @miloisdone1 @vanteguccir @annamcdonalds67 @freshsturns @rootbeerworshiper-deactivated20 @matty-bear @orangelala-deactivated20240425 @imwetforyourmom @stunnaagirllsworld @lanixsturniolo @c00ch13destroyer @junnniiieee07 @pepsiboyy @deadxrx @ribread03 @ariieeesworld @venusxsturnio @mattslovelygf @Spencereidismybitch @ablanstar333 @jjmaybankshousekeeping @larnieboox88 @Preppy234 @endereies @eurphoric-rush @whosthislyssbitch @jetaimevous @h3arts4harry

[mechaknight-98]

Do you dream of armageddon (NSFW) FT Eunha

Authors note: shoutout to @coldfanbou for introducing me to her he has excellent taste. Featuring “cameos” from other writers as well. Story spoilers ahead for The raid: salvation’s edge and the last story mission Excision!!!!!!!!

“Come on, Crash! We’re going to miss the movie!” Eunha exclaimed, tugging the massive Awoken Titan along with her. The two Guardians were basking in a rare moment of peace after the Witness had been defeated. The cost of their victory hung in the air, but the sheer joy of living another day more than made up for it. As they approached the theater, they saw the Warlocks, Libra-5, and Aeri, already there. The Exo and Human smiled brightly, noticing the bandages that still adorned Crash—a proud testament to his recent battles. The usually stoic Titan radiated warmth today, his sense of relief contagious among the group. Together, they walked into the theater where the last of their raid team, Sayo-8, and Hasuel, waited.

“Perfect! You made it!” Sayo-8, the Awoken Warlock, exclaimed happily. She had worried that “the problem child” Crash wouldn’t show up, but ever since the Witness’s defeat, he had been more lively and engaging. He had even gotten a few tattoos to commemorate their victories, which had surprised everyone. The group reminisced about when Eunha first brought him in—tirelessly raiding legendary lost sectors and perfecting exotics to confront the Witness and Savathûn. When he first joined them, he helped defeat Rhulk, then Nezarec, and finally all three aspects of the Witness. Eunha was proud and grateful for all he had done, as was the rest of the group.

The movie was a celebration in itself—a Golden Age film starring a familiar face, Aeri’s Titan friend Yu, who played a girl with a rocket-powered fist. Laughter and cheer filled the theater, a stark contrast to the recent hardships they had endured. The Guardians relished in the escapism, their laughter echoing through the room as they enjoyed the light-hearted adventure on screen. It was a perfect moment, a reminder of what they had fought so hard to preserve.

After the movie, Eunha and Crash headed back to his place. As usual, he smiled and hugged her. As usual, she kissed his cheek during the hug and said, “Stay safe while saving the world, big guy!” But then something unusual happened.

“I know you live far away, but you're free to stay the night,” Crash offered, his voice carrying a rare warmth and vulnerability.

Eunha turned to Crash, thinking she misheard him. “What was that, Crasilior? It sounded like you said I could spend the night?”

Crash repeated his invitation, his eyes steady and sincere.

She was stunned when he let her inside his home. As long as Eunha had known him, he had never let anyone into his place. She expected a minimalistic haven for meditation but was surprised to see a cozy, retro space filled with Golden Age amenities and art. The room was adorned with vintage posters, comfortable furniture, and warm lighting that created an inviting atmosphere.

In the comfort of his home, Eunha felt a rush of emotions. She wandered through the room, taking in the details. A collection of antique books lined one shelf, and a vintage record player sat in the corner, softly playing an old jazz tune. The scent of aged wood and faint traces of cologne filled the air. She noticed four mini barrels scattered around the room. Curiosity got the better of her.

“Hey, Crash, what are the barrels for?” she asked, her voice filled with intrigue.

Crash, now lounging on his couch, replied, “They are distilling barrels for whisky, whiskey, and bourbon.”

Eunha looked at the Awoken, confused. “You said whisky twice.”

She was shocked when Crash laughed. He rarely vocalized anything outside of orders, questions, random noises, and confirmation sounds. Hearing his laugh, so relaxed and genuine, was a pleasant surprise.

“Whiskey is American, and whisky is Scottish. They have slightly different methods of creation,” he explained, a playful glint in his eye. Eunha smiled, feeling a newfound warmth in their interaction. She gazed into his pale, glowing ivory eyes, truly noticing their beauty for the first time.

“I never realized how pretty your eyes are,” she said, which would have made the teal-colored man blush if possible. Crash smiled at Eunha, who smiled back. She felt the same ease with him as she did during a raid or a strike. It made her wonder why he was opening up now.

“Crash, why now?” Eunha asked softly, her curiosity piqued.

The Awoken instantly understood what she meant. Though he struggled to put his feelings into words, he tried to explain. “When my Ghost cracked and almost died, I realized I had no one. I have acquaintances, but no one to go to. I was guarded but alone, and my heart couldn't bear the loneliness anymore… despite all the alacrity and solo operative mods I could grab. Not to mention when we were running through Salvation’s edge and the witness separated us into our worlds and I couldn't hear your voice. A rage I have felt rose within me as I tore through his little pocket dimension. That moment changed me because the only person I could think about was you. I wanted to get back to you more than anything. I didn't care about the witness anymore or the stakes. I cared about making sure you were safe and we’d meet again”

Hearing Crash’s explanation made Eunha realize that Crash was in love with her. She smiled, understanding that all those small gestures on the battlefield—the finger hearts, the humming, and his prioritizing her safety—meant Crash had loved her for a long time but was shy. Well, tonight she was going to change that. she decided that she was going to fuck the shyness and a confession out of him.

Eunha moved closer to Crash, sitting beside him on the couch. “You don’t have to be alone anymore,” she said softly, placing a hand on his. “We’ve been through so much together, and I’ve always felt something special between us. I’m glad you opened up to me.”

Crash looked into her eyes, his usual stoic expression softened by emotion. “I’ve always admired your strength, Eunha. You’ve been my anchor in so many battles. I just… never knew how to express it.”

Eunha leaned in, her heart pounding. “You’re expressing it perfectly now,” she whispered, closing the distance between them.

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of Crash’s home and their memories, they shared a tender kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of triumph, of overcoming impossible odds, and of a future filled with hope and love. The burdens of their past battles seemed to lift, replaced by the promise of new beginnings.

As she felt Crash submit to her Eunha couldn't contain herself. She began to explore the awoken’s mouth. He tasted like the soda he had at post-movie dinner at the ramen shop.

Overwhelmed by resurging emotions that had been suppressed for ages Crash fully gave himself over to Eunha. Eunha devoured him as she continued to kiss and feel up “her titan” It drove him mad with lust as she got on top of his lap and deepened their kiss while grinding on his crotch. The Bashfull bunny was gone in its place a rapacious rabbit, who needed her bear. When she broke this kiss the air between burned with a heat niether of them could extinguish. She clawed into him as she went in for another kiss.

“I need you inside me Crash. Fuck me! say I'm. Yours!” Eunha demanded. She felt Crash’s surging erection under her and ripped her underwear open as she fished for his cock. When she found it she slammed her bare pussy onto his rod. As much as Eunha wanted a pleasant and welcoming first time with her it was anything but,

“Oh Fuck you're too big you're gonna break me,” Eunha moaned as she slowly revived Crash’s cock. The tightness of her folds was an erotic bliss for Crash. Having all of his feelings returned with Eunha he fell further into love and lust with her.

When Eunha finally took all his cock she smiled at Crash before riding him like he was a sparrow with low handling. Instinctively Crash’s hand found their way to Eunha’s sexy ass. Crash gripped tight as he began finding his own pace as their hips tried to find peace. At first in their fervor, their body rhythms competed with each other. A violent smashing of flesh together, but eventually their bodies found a perfect sync as they tumbled closer to their releases. Eunha was the closet as she had set the pace all night but she needed to hear Crash say he was hers alone,

“Come on Crash tell me whose pussy your cock belongs to?” she demands

Resolutely Crash responded, “My body, my heart, and my cock are yours alone.” hearing that pushed Eunha over the edge as she gushed all over Crash’s cock. Her father's tightness milked his orgasm out of him as he followed her into bliss.

In the aftermath of their copulation, Eunha said, “I won't leave you alone anymore,”

Crash smiled and hugged his new partner tightly

They spent the night fucking, talking, laughing, and sharing stories. Crash opened up more about his, fears, and his dreams.

Eunha listened, her heart swelling with love and admiration for the man who had been her steadfast protector. They fell asleep in each other’s arms, the quiet hum of the city outside a comforting backdrop to their newfound connection.

The next morning, as the first light of dawn filtered through the windows, Eunha woke up to find Crash watching her, a gentle smile on his face. “Good morning,” he said softly.

“Good morning,” she replied, feeling a warmth she hadn’t felt in a long time. “Thank you for letting me in, Crash. I mean it.”

Crash nodded, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief and joy. “Thank you for being here, Eunha. I don’t feel so alone anymore.”

As they prepared to face the new day, they knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together. Their bond, forged in the heat of battle and tempered by love, would guide them through whatever the future held.

And in that moment, in the quiet aftermath of their greatest triumph, they found something even more precious than victory—they found each other.

Postscript: Destiny 2 probably means as much to me as Magic does and it took a climatic battle several years in the making to see it. So their may be more this may become a series but as of now enjoy the one-shot.

[saphronethaleph]

Task Failed Successfully

Senator Amidala closed the door to the Naboo senatorial office, and smiled.

“All right,” she said. “Knight Kenobi, Padawan Skywalker. I’m glad the two of you were available.”

“We are, of course, at the disposal of the Senate,” Obi-Wan said.

“And I can guess what the problem is,” Anakin added. “Can’t you, Master?”

“Of course, my young padawan,” Obi-Wan replied. “But what about if the Senator explains?”

“To put it simply, then,” the Senator said. “The Supreme Chancellor would like to know what in the galaxy the Kaminoans are talking about.”

Anakin blinked.

“You don’t know?” he asked. “He doesn’t know?”

“The Senate has some idea of some details, but at this point some or all of them could be incorrect,” Padme replied. “And the Chancellor wanted me to try and understand the specifics.”

“That… could be a problem,” Obi-Wan admitted. “Because the Council doesn’t have much idea either.”

“We were speaking with them for over an hour,” Anakin contributed. “Master is one of the better diplomats in the Jedi Order… we were actually told to try and find out who in the Senate might know what’s going on.”

Padme frowned, slightly. “You mean you were trying to find out if someone in the Senate had done this?” she asked. “But the army was ordered for the Jedi.”

“So we’ve been told,” Obi-Wan replied. “Obviously, it’s only been a few hours, but we haven’t been able to come to any conclusions – and, to put it bluntly, Senator, it could be that this army was ordered with the blame being placed on the Jedi in order to confuse the issue.”

Padme considered that.

“Possible, but I don’t think it’s likely,” she said. “Whoever ordered this army clearly had a reason behind what they were doing, we just don’t know what it is.”

“Which means we’re just going around in circles,” Anakin concluded.

“Perhaps, but simply hearing it from Padme has been useful,” Obi-Wan said. “I hope you’ll keep us informed if you learn anything?”

“Of course,” Padme smiled. “The two of you helped save my planet, Obi-Wan, Ani. You’re friends.”

“The Jedi Order teaches us to avoid attachment,” Anakin said, then grinned slightly. “But friends don’t count, right?”

“If friends did count, then I don’t think most of the Order would be very happy,” Obi-Wan replied.

“Yeah, true,” Anakin agreed. “I think Yoda still sends holocalls to his last padawan.”

“Is there something unusual about that?” Padme asked.

“It’s… more of Order business than anything,” Obi-Wan said. “My padawan really shouldn’t have passed on gossip like that. It’s not going to do him any good when it comes to whether he’ll be knighted.”

“Master,” Anakin complained. “You said I had nothing to worry about!”

“And you seem determined to prove me wrong,” Obi-Wan replied. “Perhaps you can prove me wrong about proving me wrong about that.”

Anakin’s lips moved.

“...okay?” he tried. “I’ll do my best, Master.”

“In that case, Anakin, I will have nothing to worry about,” Obi-Wan replied.

Padme smiled.

“So what are you going to do with the army, anyway?” she asked.

“That’s a very good question, but you should probably ask one of the members of the Council,” Obi-Wan replied.

“Master, everyone knows you’re going to be on the Council some time soon,” Anakin said.

“And I’m not one yet, and everyone doesn’t include me,” Obi-Wan pointed out. “But… really, that does depend on who and why there would be an order of over a million clones to fight for the Jedi. The only possibility I can think of is the Sith, but… why would the Sith order an army for the Jedi?”

“If it’s a Sith plot, do you have any chance of unravelling it?” Padme asked, worried. “You stopped whatever they were trying to do with Naboo.”

“Did we?” Obi-Wan asked.

“No, I mean you, specifically,” Padme replied. “And you, Anakin. The Droid Control Ship was key to whatever it was they were doing, and Obi-Wan killed a Sith.”

“And there’s been no sign of the other in a decade,” Obi-Wan said, thinking back to the Naboo crisis. “Though… now I come to think about that particular series of events, Senator, I do have to ask whether a specific member of the Senate was involved.”

“With the Sith?” Padme asked.

“There’s got to have been some Senators working with the Sith, back then,” Anakin pointed out.

“Perhaps, but that’s not what I mean,” Obi-Wan explained. “I mean the clone army. Because if there is anyone who could accidentally order an army, it is the junior Senator from Naboo.”

He turned, to direct something that was not quite a glare at Senator Binks. “Isn’t that right, Jar Jar?”

“Mesa not as bad as all dat,” Jar Jar protested. “Mesa been doing quite well for mesa self in the last ten years. Mesa has been takin’ classes on avoidin’ disaster and not bein’ clumsy.”

“Perhaps you have,” Obi-Wan said, relenting slightly. “But you must admit, Jar Jar, that certain events have given you a reputation it will take many years to live down yet.”

Jar Jar sighed.

“Mesa knows dat,” he admitted. “Theres-a all kinds of jokes about mesa. It seems like even when mesa floatin’ legislation, people makin’ jokes about waterfalls.”

Obi-Wan nodded, closing his eyes for a moment.

“I apologize, Jar Jar,” he said. “It’s easy for me to forget that you have to deal with that reputation all the time.”

“Yeah,” Jar Jar said.

“Speaking of which,” Anakin began. “Did anyone ever figure out how that happened? If they did, I missed it.”

“Mesa has said it over and over again,” Jar Jar protested. “Mesa was simply showin’ the bombad Chancellor-Elect the really pretty bits of Theed that mesa wasn’t sure that he’sa seen before, and mesa was wavin’ mesa hands around, and mesa… made a boopjak, big mistake.”

“The Chancellor-Elect fell three hundred and eighty metres,” Obi-Wan said. “Then he hit the ground, and exploded. It put something of a damper on the celebrations.”

“Jar Jar does know this,” Padme pointed out. “And he’s heard it over and over. He’s done his very best to put it behind him, and is as valued an ally of Chancellor Stonk as I am.”

“Hesa was a big supporter of rebuildin’ Naboo!” Jar Jar said, brightening as he rebounded in the way only he could. “Stonks even gone to the moon!”

“I heard about the colonization project of Ohma-D’un,” Anakin said, interested. “Do you think the terraforming equipment could be used to help make a planet less dry and sandy?”

He frowned. “Actually, Master… could we use the army for that? The only reason the Republic won’t do anything about Outer Rim slavery is that it would mean building an army, right?”

Padme looked interested, but frowned.

“We’d probably need to find where it came from, first,” she said. “But… I’ll definitely suggest it, Ani.”

She smiled. “Assuming the Senate gets any say in what to do with the army, of course.”

[happiest-hotch]

Deserving

Summary: Aaron has a rough day being a dad, and you reassure him that he is very deserving of your family

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader (Angst/Fluff)

Word Count: 2.3k

Life with three children is not always easy. It's crazy to think it's been over a year since you and Aaron went from having two kids- Jack and your daughter, Eden- to three, adding sweet baby Noah to the family.

Mornings, although they've become a well-oiled routine, are always a challenge, but they're a satisfying one to complete.

Today, Aaron's slightly changed the patterns. Without an early morning budget meeting, mountains of paperwork, or active case, he's home until a 10 am call time for a case briefing at the BAU, which is very rare for a weekday.

So, instead of breakfast duty, you're taking the first shower while he handles getting everyone fed. 

You don't doubt his abilities, but your morning showers are always quick and effective, as opposed to your relaxing nighttime ones, which, when you're lucky, take place with Aaron, so you're dressed and ready for the day quickly. However, the glorious difference of having someone else there is that you don't get interrupted once. 

The chaos quickly catches up when you walk downstairs and hear your sweet baby boy crying loudly, very unhappy.

Aaron's frantically trying to calm the tear, offering him different types of cereal as a substitute for his toast and every juice in the fridge as he deduces the cause of an early morning crying fit. Jack looks done with his younger brother, sitting at the kitchen island with his hands over his ears, which makes it difficult for him to eat. He'd love a momentary reprieve of being able to travel two years back in time. He adores his younger brother, but you're not totally sure he wouldn't send him back for some momentary peace. As for Eden, she's nowhere to be found.

You spot the problem in a second, walking over and kissing the top of Jack's head before ruffling his hair affectionately. "Can you stop him now?" He implores.

Aaron looks at you with similarly pleading eyes, ready to admit defeat. 

You take the plate from in front of the toddler, open the cupboard and take a different one out before you switch the food over and slide the new plate across the countertop.

In a second, his tears stop, and he digs into his toast like nothing has happened. The tears on his red hot cheeks dry as he eats happily. With a look of thanks, Jack digs into his breakfast.

"He doesn't like the blue plate." You explain to Aaron.

Your husband frowns, as confused as you were when you first noticed the quirk. "He eats off it every night." You've even learned to bring it to Rossi's for your fussy baby. 

"Only at night and occasionally afternoon snack." You report to him.

Aaron's heart sinks, and the fact he doesn't know that about his own child hits him deep down. It's no secret that he's not always there, physically much less than most dads, and it weighs heavily on him.

"Oh." He lets out, trying to mask the disappointment he feels with himself. He turns around, grabbing your favorite mug. "Coffee, baby."

You smile, kissing his lips before gratefully taking the mug. "Thank you." You glance around the room again, not seeing a four-year-old coming running into the room. "Where's E?"

Aaron quickly puts down his mug. "Shit." 

Jack chuckles at his dad's unusual swear before looking down at his oatmeal when Aaron glowers at him. 

"It's okay." You place a gentle hand on his chest. "I'll sort her." With a quick kiss on Noah's forehead, you leave before Aaron can stop you. 

Her great drama of the morning is an easy fix when you brush through her hair with the detangler meant for dry hair, not wet. She didn't inherit straight hair like her older brother and dad, and she wants to keep her hair long, which means it gets knotted overnight. You don't blame Aaron for the hiccup. He can't have known when you're the one who usually brushes his hair- his specialty being braiding- and the bottles look identical aside from the tiny writing, which you know he can't see because, although you wouldn't tell him, he probably should be wearing reading glasses. 

"What's wrong?" Aaron asks, his voice laced with panic when his head peaks around her door. 

"You're done, baby." You tell her, letting her climb off the chair and go to brush her teeth. You walk over to Aaron, hoping to provide some relief that nothing is wrong and that his children are just as dramatic as he is. "She only uses the one in the bathroom if her hair is wet. When it's dry, it's the one at her dressing table." You love your boys, biologically related to you or not, so much, but you love having a girly girl. Aaron's out of his depth. Even learning to braid took effort and nights of practicing on your hair, but he succeeded. As ill-prepared as he feels for the future, you know he'll always try for his baby girl. It's something you adore about him.

"I'm sorry." He apologizes sheepishly, looking down at the carpet.

You wrap your arm around his waist, and his arms hold you tightly, both of you appreciating a quick hug in the hallway. "You can't expect yourself to be perfect."

But you are. Aaron doesn't say it, but it's on the tip of his tongue. 

"Go get ready." You instruct him. "I'll hold down the fort." 

You're always holding down the fort. "Okay." He agrees, only leaving your side after taking a long kiss that he feels undeserving of. 

Aaron's packed Eden and Jack's lunchboxes, which you're sure he's added loving notes to.

You get Noah changed for daycare, making sure he's got an extra change of clothing in his bag since he got paint all over his spare shirt.

Then you place him in front of the TV to watch cartoons with his siblings. Jack's too old for them, but he's such a good big brother that he never complains.

Your next task is packing lunch for the person who overlooked packing it for himself, writing him a note that you hope makes him smile. 

He's also effective at getting himself ready, often having to do it quickly and in the middle of the night without enough sleep, and he's finished quicker than you were. 

Aaron surveys the scene in the living room when he comes downstairs to find it quiet, much different from how you had. "How are they all ready to go?" He asks, and you see confusion where he's plagued with self-doubt.

"You did a lot of it." You assure him, aware your role this morning was fixing mistakes. "Are you taking Jack, and I'll take the other two?"

He's quiet for a second, brain buzzing away inside his head. "Yes. Yeah, that works." He agrees. 

You notice those little details, but it's easy to assume it's about the incoming stress of his workday. "Okay, well, I love you."

That gets a quicker reaction. "I love you, too." He says, cupping your cheeks to kiss you sweetly. 

"Team Hotchner?" You offer out a fist bump. 

Aaron takes it with a chuckle that momentarily halts his frown. "Team Hotchner." He turns to the living room. "Jack, you ready?"

He nods, high-fiving his sibling before tossing his backpack over his shoulder and walking to the door.

"Love you, and have a good day." You tell him, pulling him into a side hug. 

He hugs you properly. "Love you too."

Then two of your favorite people are out the door to continue their days, and you turn back to the other two. "Alright, babies, let's go."

~

Jack fills Aaron in on what's going on at school, or- as Aaron profiles it- everything minus the social aspects. 

They pull up to the drop-off zone, and Aaron stops, knowing Jack has grown past wanting his dad to walk him into class. "Have a good day, bud." He says. 

"Uh, Dad?" Jack starts awkwardly. "Did you bring lunch money for me?" Nope. Aaron didn't even know Jack's been buying his lunch. "It's just Y/n always-"

Aaron nods, fishing out his wallet from his pocket. "Y-yeah, of course." He answers. 

Due to how infrequently he pays in cash, the only notes he has are $50s, probably- and hopefully- not what you give Jack each day. 

He hands it over, and Jack scrunches his nose. "This is way too much." He states. 

Thankfully, Aaron thinks quickly on his feet. "Treat your friends." He offers.

Jack grins, knowing he has permission to carry such a large sum of money to a 13-year-old. "Awesome. Thanks, Dad." 

Then he's gone, and once he's out of eyesight, Aaron throws his head back against the headrest, hitting the steering wheel in frustration. 

He runs a hand through his hair, feeling utterly useless and like he doesn't have enough of a purpose in the family you've built together. Although you've always treated Jack like your own, you know his son better than he does, and that's a warning sign that he can't ignore. It doesn't feel like it was together when he thinks about it. He was just there while you effortlessly did it all.

It's a bad day at work. It starts before he gets there, and it doesn't get better. The silver lining is there's no case that the team can't consult on from Quantico. Still, he can't bring himself to return home when he should. It gets later and later, and his thoughts spiral as he looks out across the dark bullpen and feels like he's 12 years in the past when he was losing Haley because he couldn't be a dad or a husband. He's trying to be different, better, learn from his mistakes because he doesn't get another shot, and he can't stand the thought of letting you down. He's surprised he even got a second chance.

By the time he gets home, the kids are in bed. Jack's light is still on, but the house is silent. The TV's on low, but you're paying more attention to your phone than it. 

"Hey, baby, long day at work?" You wonder, not at all sounding mad about it. 

Aaron feels like he needs to be punished, yelled at, and made to sleep on the couch, but he's met with understanding. 

"Mhm." He answers, dropping his briefcase in his office and his keys on the side table.

"There's dinner in the microwave." You continue talking in your lighthearted tone. 

It's wrong to be short with you, and he hates himself for it. "Thanks." 

It's a pretty obvious sign.

You know something's wrong. 

He thinks he's good at hiding it, but he's not when your focus is solely on him. 

You're patient, letting him take your time as you put your phone down and wait until he's sitting next to you on the couch after eating. 

"What's wrong?" You ask. 

Aaron can sense your watchful stare and acts like he's focused on the TV. "Nothing." 

"Aaron Hotchner." You warn. "I would appreciate your honesty. Whenever you're ready." 

God, he loves you. There's nothing he's done in his life to deserve someone as understanding as you. "You're the definition of a supermom." He tells you. "I'm not jealous. You keep everything running smoothly here, and any stumbles you react to with so much grace. But I'm failing." You hate that he thinks that of himself. He's not perfect, but neither are you or anyone. One thing Aaron isn't doing is failing. "I barely know anything about our kids, stuff I should know, and I would know if I were a good dad. The thing is, I'm never here." Before you can dispute the claim, he continues. "I'm not, Y/n. If it's not casework, it's paperwork, but I'm never here as much as I should be. I don't deserve any of this."

You hate seeing him like this, having talked himself into his feelings all day. "Aaron." You coo, cupping his cheeks and trying to wipe up his tears. "Baby, you're allowed to make mistakes. Our kids love you and think you're the best dad in the world." You assure him. "Jack has looked at you like you're a superhero since I met him, and E and Noah do too. Every time you're away, they know you're out there saving people."

"You really think so?" He asks. "All of that?"

You nod, brushing your nose against his gently. "100%. There's never been a doubt in my mind that you deserve this family. You've got to believe me." 

A flicker of a smile lights up his face. "I do." He decides. 

"Did you eat your lunch?" You wonder. 

Aaron's unsure where it came from, but he sheepishly looks away from you. "I didn't."

You hit him lightly on the chest, scolding him for not eating. "Then you didn't see the note I added." 

"What did it say?" He asks, more excited knowing he's not in trouble.

You debate making him wait until tomorrow, but he needs to know. "Thank you for being the best dad ever to our kids. I love you." You recite.

It seems too convenient, and he frowns. "Really?"

"I think it's a soulmate thing." It's the only explanation you can come up with, having not known this morning that his stress was because he was worried about not being a good enough dad.

"I love you." He says, closing the small gap between you to kiss you.

You go in for another kiss once he pulls back. "I love you, too." You remind him. "Bedtime?" You ask when he yawns. "Then you can have another shot at perfecting the morning routine." 

He nods, grateful for everything. "Let's do it."

[whisper-in-the-night]

Undesirable

Plot: Thomas is omega who will never find his true mate. Or no?

Warnings: omegavers; deviation from the canon; omega!Thomas Hewitt, alpha!male!reader / Y/N; mention of murdering, cannibalism, blood, little angst.

Note: hey everyone. I finally finished this chapter :) Thanks for reading this, don't forget to eat properly and drink water, love ya

•••

Part 4 || Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

After a while, you got along quite well with this unusual family. At first it was a little difficult, they had their own rules in household management and home life, but you quickly adapted to this and began to help. It was good for the family that another strong man appeared in the house, which greatly facilitated Thomas's life.

Besides, you were still working. Early in the morning you left for another city, and in the evening you returned, even brought groceries with you, for which Luda was immensely grateful to you, considering that her shop did not pay off much. The meat in this family really bothered you, because you had never eaten such a slightly bitter and tough meat, but you put it down to unsuitable storage conditions, after all, it was always hot during the day, and even the darkened cabinets did not create cold meat. You offered your family to buy meat as well, but no one supported your idea. It's probably a matter of habit.

And yet, you decided to try cooking with this meat. One evening, you made something like a quick marinade for meat from apples and garlic that you bought earlier after work, and left the meat like that until the next dinner. In the evening, you used your favorite seasonings and cooked a very tasty soup. It was the easiest and fastest dish, and you knew how to cook it well. And the whole family really liked your culinary skills. Especially for Hoyt, who is tired of eating solid hard meat and small potatoes in broth. The meat has softened a little, and the apples have removed this strange bitterness. In general, you have found a solution to the problem, for the most part. Luda also appreciated that there was another person in the family who could literally feed the family, so now it was your unspoken duty. And you were only there once to help this tired woman.

You've become very close to Thomas. He turned out to be a very nice and kind person. Just a giant with a kind heart. Something about him made your heart beat faster every time. Maybe it's his skillful hands, able to sew various little things, if necessary. Or maybe it's his strength: this man is able to lift you up in the blink of an eye with one hand and not even sweat. Although he was mute, you were still able to find a language of communication. Body language, head shaking, or facial expressions on the exposed part of his face. You mentally cursed yourself for giving up extracurricular sign language lessons at a young age. And yet, little by little, Thomas taught you sign language himself, which made communication much easier. Other family members wondered how you could understand each other so easily. It made you very angry when Hoyt treated Tommy like some dumb dog. On days like these, Thomas would come to your bedroom late at night, he knew you were still awake. Already clean after a hard day (you taught him the basics of hygiene, it just didn't make sense for the guy to follow them very much before), he lay his head on your lap, and you gently fingered his dark wet stripes. You could have sworn Thomas was making a little purr. There was a slight sweet scent of peaches in the room, which you liked so much now. Who would have thought that this big guy was an omega? You thanked yourself for your foresight and for having drunk your dose of suppressants earlier in the day. This man was too cute. He even started you.. Do you like it? Maybe. Before that, you weren't particularly attracted to representatives of both the opposite and your own sex. As a child, when you were still in elementary school, relatives often asked if you liked any 'bride', pointing to pictures of girls in a shared photo. You just shrugged your shoulders. Were you wrong? Is it bad that you don't like anyone? Then why did your heart yearn tenderly at the sight of this big boy?

Thomas wandered absently up the stairs, loosening the ropes of his work apron along the way. He was tired. All those screams and screams of the victims, and then Hoyt's complaints about his sluggishness and slowness. The man hastily took a shower and changed his work clothes for more comfortable ones: a loose short-sleeve shirt and light sleeping shorts. His feet were already automatically leading him to the cherished room. The click of a door handle and the creak of an old door. He climbed onto your lap and let out a relaxed sigh. My head was buzzing with unpleasant thoughts. All he wanted was to melt into your arms. Your hips were soft and comfortable, his personal pillow to rest on. Your gentle, strong fingers immediately found their way to his hair, massaging his skin. His hair was a little unpleasantly tangled, and small drops of water dripping from his dark hair soaked the fabric of your clothes. But you didn't seem to mind. You were humming softly to yourself, and it caused Thomas a strange pleasure in his chest. No one had ever been so kind to him. But that will surely change if you see his real face under the mask, won't it? This is only a temporary pleasure and peace of mind, when you see his real one, you will definitely want to leave him. Closing his eyes, Tommy instinctively leaned towards your touch, relaxing with his eyes closed. It was good. You're so gentle and caring. You always meet him with a warm dinner after work, bring him sweets, give him a massage and comb his hair. Thomas liked it, very much. You were so good, like he.. liked you.

When you finished helping Luda with cooking dinner, you wiped your hands with a towel, listening to the sounds in the house. Hoyt and Monty went somewhere not so long ago, before handing out 'tasks' to all the remaining household members. You smiled while watching Luda work. In the last three weeks, she's become like a real mother to you.

"Mom, where's Thomas?" You asked with a slight smile. You liked to address her that way, and the woman herself didn't seem to mind, on the contrary, she was glad to have another child in her house.

"Tommy is sorting things out in the barn, dear. Go and tell him that dinner is coming soon, okay?"

You nodded curtly and left the house. The sun was baking, shining unpleasantly into my eyes. Beads of sweat instantly appeared on your forehead, which you hastened to remove with the back of your hand. It's been even hotter than usual lately. Although the nights were cool. And yet, this did not cancel out the heat of the day, which burned the lungs unpleasantly.

The wooden door of the barn creaked open, unpleasantly jarring to the ear. It was dusty and hot inside. There was dust and old hay everywhere, in some places you could see old parts from disassembled cars, and somewhere there were children's things, as you assumed, that belonged to Thomas.

The man was standing almost in the middle of the barn and sorting out old boxes. His dark hair was tied carelessly in a ponytail, and his shirt had been taken off and was lying on one of the old shelves, so now you had a view of Tommy's muscular chest and his beautiful ass. Strong muscles flexed beautifully under his tanned skin with every movement.

You slowly approached the man from behind, putting your hand on his hip, and pulled him towards you, attracting attention. Your nose is filled with the smell of sweat mixed with a little dust and the already favorite peach sensation on your lips. Your mouth curled into a grin when Thomas turned in your direction.

"Hey, handsome," you said softly, enticing Thomas's lips into a wet, clumsy kiss. It was hard to kiss his bitten lips through the mask, but you didn't complain. After a couple of minutes, the man let out a light sigh and closed his eyes, awkwardly responding to the kiss. You've already kissed a few times, but he still didn't do very well. Thomas's hands found your waist, pulling you closer to him as he turned around in your arms. He backed away and sat down on one of the boxes, pulling you onto his lap. This guy was too fond of using his size. You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your fingers in his damp, night-black hair. Finally breaking away from the sweet lips of your lover, you smiled. "Mom asked me to said to you that dinner is ready, y'know." Thomas muttered something indistinctly, but nodded, squeezing your hips in his hands. You could have sworn that something big was pressed against your body.

•••

And yet, you had a strange feeling. On the first day of your arrival here, you were going to go back to Luda's store to take that boy and his friends to the city they needed, but Hoyt immediately stopped you, saying that when he returned home, no guys were there. It seemed strange to you, because there was hardly frequent transport in this place. Although, perhaps some friend picked them up?

Sometimes you heard strange sounds, it seems, from the basement. It's like a dog whining or even gnashing. You tried not to make a big deal out of it, but the sound was getting too intrusive. It got on your nerves.

Nothing bad will happen if you just check on the poor animal, right?

The night was quite bright, the full moon shone brightly in the starry sky, reflecting on the screen of your phone. In only pajama pants and a light shirt, you slowly descended to the first floor, trying not to wake anyone from home. The floor creaked unpleasantly underfoot, but no one in the house seemed to hear it. Your hand was on the cold cellar door. A high-pitched squeak filled your ears, causing your body to shrink in slight fear. Goosebumps ran down my spine. You shone your flashlight on the stone steps, which were flooded with water for a couple of inches.

Step.

Step.

Step.

Plop.

Your feet touched the cold water, and you let out a soft sigh. It wasn't so hot at night to enjoy this coolness. You slowly picked up the phone, shining your flashlight on the walls. The basement was damp and dirty, smelled of dust and the acrid smell of metal. The light from your phone was slowly sliding along the stone walls. There were a lot of tools, meat hooks and other things.

A chill ran down your spine.

You pointed the flashlight at the center of the room, and your stomach clenched. On a table in the center of the basement lay something that looked like a man. An almost gnawed skeleton without a pair of limbs and with a bald spot in some places on the head. Long dirty hair was lying on the table, and the body was covered with dirt, blood and something else. The eyes were missing, as were the internal organs under the ribs. It was.. creepy.

Clang.

You jumped slightly, pointing the flashlight in the opposite direction from the table. God. There, against the wall, in a pile of boxes.. the boy you were driving was sitting there. His face was disfigured and his jaw was visibly broken. His leg was amputated to the knee, and there were strange stitches on the side. He looked very pale and weak, scared. His broken mouth made whining noises, but it seemed that he had already resigned himself to his fate.

You slowly stepped back. Your gaze darted between the poor half-dead boy and the body on the table. There wasn't so much meat, it looked like they were being eate-

Your stomach clenched painfully, and your throat burned. Your entire dinner immediately ended up on one of the stone steps. Suddenly it became so difficult and painful to breathe, it seemed that your heart was tearing in your chest. It hurts, it hurts so much, like it's beating in your head. Panic has gripped your mind. Did you live in a cannibal house?

Your movements were fast. You ran out of the basement without even bothering to close the door behind you, and grabbed your car keys from the housekeeper in the hallway. The front door slammed hard, and you could hear the grumbling in the house. The lights started to turn on immediately. You quickly reached the car, inserting the key into the ignition with shaking hands. My eyes burned, but there were no tears. It seemed like a primal fear for your own life filled your body, wanting every breath to be very painful.

Finally, the car started up, and you jerked the steering wheel sharply, pulling out to the road.

You drove as fast as you could. The heart was beating wildly in your chest, forcing you to turn around so that there would be no pursuers behind you. You would have been eaten too, wouldn't you? Where should you go now? Home? Police? You gripped the steering wheel harder, trying to bring yourself to your senses. God...

•••

"Fuck, I knew that! I knew that this boy was just like them! What should we do now? He's gonna tell the cops!" Hoyt screamed, clutching his gray hair with his fingers.

Thomas stared absently after the departing car. Hoyt was growling menacingly behind him, but the man didn't care. He was.. sadly. Painfully. My heart screamed unpleasantly, watching you drive away without even telling him yet. Did he do something wrong? Or did you know that boy? Did you love that boy? His heart ached uncomfortably at the very thought of it. He clenched his hands into fists, his nails leaving red crescents on his palms.

[peachsayshi]

heyy idk if you're still doing ex husband nanami etc but here goes nothing!! maybe after the new year's party nanami finally meets the guy she went on a date with?? you're free to write anything on that ♥️

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ A Reason To Celebrate ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ minors / ageless / blank blogs (dni) ↬･tags: ex husband nanami x reader; angst; mostly fluff; nanami has a son; angy nanami; kissing ↬･ wc: 6,740

↬ notes: I was supposed to post this in honor of kento's birthday, but better late than never! here is a highly requested update for you all x there is a bit of a time skip from the last part!

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Nanami regrets agreeing to this divorce.

He knows that he shouldn’t have conceded to you so easily. He understands that he shouldn’t have turned his back on you when you confessed that you wanted out of this relationship. He hates that he allowed his pride to get in the way of your true feelings, and is ashamed for cowering into a corner when what he needed to do was fight even harder to keep you by his side. He’s sorry for the terrible words that he threw at you early on, when he placed the blame entirely on you for ruining what was so, so perfect.

When you said “I do” it was because you accepted him wholeheartedly, but he broke his a vow by not leaving his job as he intended the minute that pregnancy strip turned pink.

The trials and tribulations of a jujutsu sorcerer never ends, but nothing he’s ever experienced compares to how hollow he feels.

That’s why he’s been spending every hour dissecting the current status of your relationship. He’s struggling to figure out his balance now that he’s turned his entire world upside down.

All he wants to do is rekindle the flame of what he lost.

“Be honest with me…are you truly happy with how things are between us?”

Your eyes revealed the softest, most vulnerable parts of yourself when he posed that question. He saw how quickly you buried the weight of your emotion into his chest, could see that it was a desperate attempt to hide from confronting the truth.

Months have passed since that night.

Your relationship with your ex-husband is the best it’s ever been - the two of you have finally figured out how to construct your lives in these two separate parts.

You get to have him in doses, and he no longer burdens you with worry.

This arrangement has been working out swimmingly, but Nanami still can’t ignore the feeling that if you could just meet him halfway, then maybe there might actually be a chance for a real reconciliation.

Things took a turn last week when you surprised your ex-husband with a call while he was at work, asking him if he had the time to take Hiroki off your hands for the rest of the afternoon.

“I just need a little bit of time for myself,” you reluctantly blurted, the unusual statement sounding foreign on your lips.

Nanami’s concern wouldn’t stop him from prying. “Is everything alright? Are you feeling unwell?”

“Oh, yes, I’m fine!” you squeaked. “I just…uhm…I just really need the quiet today. I know this is very last minute, and of course I understand if you’re too busy-”

“I’m not busy at all,” he immediately interjected, his heart screaming that he would willingly jump at your every command if you asked. “I’ll just inform Gojo that I’m taking the day off. He won’t have any problems with it…”

Later that evening, while running a quick errand with his son, Nanami saw you stepping out of his favorite bakery.

His heart fluttered in his chest at the sight of you in your summer green dress, the heat already rushing to his cheeks as a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

He was already contemplating with an idea on how to swing you out of your alone time to indulge him for a quick bite to eat, but that blissful plan was rudely interrupted by a gentleman who followed your footsteps soon after.

Nanami blinked his brown eyes in disbelief, staring with his mouth slightly apart as you spoke to the man with a level of familiarity that made your ex-husband nauseous. He saw the stranger reach for the tip of your fingers to help assist you with one of the many, many shopping bags in your hands.

The radiant glow blooming from the deepest parts of his chest collapsed in on itself upon seeing your flustered expression from the contact.

Dread overcomes him when he recalls that the last time you had asked him to watch over Hiroki was when you decided to go out on that stupid date.

Nanami had allowed the center of his own feelings to distract him from the current state that his marriage is in. Just because he is willing and ready to reconcile, that didn’t necessarily mean that you felt the same way. He’s just been trying so hard to stop you from pushing him out, and after the recent events that transpired between you both, he actually thought he was making some kind of progress.

You didn’t even seem interested in the guy when you relayed to him how your date went. The little incident that happened at the Gojo’s New Years Eve party suggested that maybe your feelings for Nanami weren’t so far out of his reach. Nanami rarely ever remembers his drinking sessions with Shoko, but what remained perfectly etched in his brain was the question that he boldly asked you - the one that continued to haunt him as the weeks passed by, and which he prayed that he would eventually get an answer to.

Did he misread the signs?

He wondered if you thought his question was simply the ramblings of a disoriented drunk, even though it was the most honest he’s been about his feelings in a while.

The longer he stood there watching you with this other man, the more he could feel his heart shattering.

His logic contradicted his apprehension with a gentle reminder of the words that you shared with him - of how your intimate and close relationship with him will always mean something to you…

He hesitated approaching you both at first, but you are still his family after all and he wasn’t about to pretend like couldn’t visibly see what was playing out before him.

If you were, in fact, seeing somebody else…then the man had every right to know about it.

Anger and betrayal guided him towards you and he greeted you with a cold and polite, “hello”.

Despite his stoic expression, he was barely holding it together watching your eyes widen in a state of shock. He instantly knew that he was the last person you were expecting to run into.

“K-Ken!” you gasped, flickering your pretty irises between your ex-husband and the man beside you. “uh-what…what are you doing here?”

Nanami’s eyes never left yours; he’s studied every reaction out of you like they were written out as sacred texts. He memorized the tempos of your breath, counted the blinks, and interpreted the many ways in which your lips could speak without ever making a sound.

“I ran out of bread. So, I decided to take Hiroki for a little walk and pick some up,” he replied before shifting his sharp and scrutinizing gaze towards the man.

The gentleman seemed equally as taken aback by Nanami, and your ex-husband could see an uneasiness washing over him.

“Hello,” he firmly greeted, introducing himself without any consideration over the thick tension that suddenly manifested. “I don’t believe we’ve met…”

The man parted his lips to speak but you were quick to cut off his answer, your suspicious behavior only fueling Nanami's anxiety.

“This is Matsuda-san! Matsuda, this is Kento Nanami…he’s my…uhm,” you fumble but quickly recollect yourself to avoid anymore awkwardness, “he’s Hiroki’s father…”

That nearly split the sorcerer in half.

You took a second to catch your breath, unreasonably winded from the explanation alone.

“Ken, Matsuda-san is an acquaintance of mine. We actually had dinner a while back…I think you might remember me telling you about it?”

Nanami’s face turned to stone, hardening every muscle to stop himself from reacting.

Of course he remembers, he grumbles to himself, just like how he can still feel you on the tips of his fingers when his hand was between your legs while you were telling him all about it…

So, this is the guy, he acknowledged, a slight tremor shaking down his spine.

“Yes that’s right,” Matsuda confirmed with giddy amusement, but it only made Nanami want to knock the teeth out of that smug grin. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Nanami-san....”

“You as well” Nanami responded bitterly but tried his best to remain cordial. He quickly averted his attention away from the man and back to your skittish self.

“Are you heading back to your place? I’ll gladly walk you home…”

“Actually…” Matsuda interrupted, and the cold stare Nanami shot at him was enough to shut him up before he could even pose any kind of bold suggestions.

“Well, you see…” you stammered nervously, “I’m actually not heading home just yet. I…uh, wanted to stop by this new boutique shop that just opened! You know, the one where I got my body wash from? They apparently have a great sale going on, and I really don’t want to miss it…”

“If I’m not mistaken, isn’t that shop just around the corner from your place?” Nanami pressed, slightly annoyed over the fact that this guy has not taken the hint and scampered off somewhere else.

“Oh, yeah…it is,” you wince unsuccessfully , “but the things is, I don’t know how long I’m going to be, and…uh…”

He can see you panicking, notice the way you were crafting a brand new story out of thin air to play it off as the truth.

He couldn’t hide the hurt on his face which softened at your desperate attempt.

You’ve always been such a terrible later.

“The thing is,” you carry on , “I actually made plans to meet with my co-worker…and, and… Matsuda-san is joining us as well! But…But, I’ll call you once I’m done to pick up Hiroki, okay?”

He hated how formally you sounded when speaking to him, like he was just another friend and not the man who was your former husband, not the man who you shared your body with or confessed your unconditional love to.

“Of course,” he conceded with resent, “I guess I’ll see you later this evening…”

He turned on his heel and walked in the other direction, refusing to look back to where his broken heart had remain fragmented.

When you picked up Hiroki that evening, Nanami couldn’t help but remain frigid towards you. He didn’t extend the usual invitation of welcoming you to his home, nor did he care to engage in any small conversation.

He was tired of having you drag him around with absolutely no consideration of his feelings.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

On any other day, Nanami would have the patience to deal with his superior’s animated personality. He closes his tired eyes for just a second in an attempt to tune out Gojo’s boisterous tone, and reluctantly releases a long, drawn out sigh.

“Nanamin,” Gojo lectures, “don’t frown on your birthday or you’ll be miserable until the next one…”

The blonde felt his eye twitch, noted the sudden tension pinching in the space where his brows furrowed together and he quickly glances over his shoulder to see the flash of a pearly, white grin looking right at him.

He can’t help but grimace.

Gojo raises his eyebrow, taken aback by the disdain on his subordinates face. “What? Are you really that upset because we decided to do something nice for you?”

Despite their best efforts to keep it all a secret, Nanami knew that Gojo and his band of students were planning out something special for his birthday.

Itadori wouldn’t stop pestering him with questions over what kind of gifts he likes, and what his favorite treats are. He would run off in secret with the other students and nearly flew across the room whenever Nanami caught him alone with Gojo.

For Itadori’s sake, Nanami attempted to display a level of surprise when he walked into the break room earlier today and was welcomed by a small party which everyone had pitched in to put together for him.

“I-…no…that’s not it…” He replies to Gojo’s initial question with a somber tone. Dropping his shoulders in defeat, he continues to carefully pack the array of gifts that have been left for him. “Although I find it quite unnecessary, I am very grateful for this, for what you all did…”

“How unfortunate for you to be so loved and cared for…” Gojo sassily remarks with a click of his tongue.

“Let’s not ruin a good thing, shall we? That’s probably the nicest compliment you’ll ever receive from me”

His superior laughs, “I’m sure I can drag another one out of you”

The echo of Gojo’s boot surrounds the room as he slowly approaches Nanami to stand by his side. “Seriously though,” he presses as he slides his hands deep into his pockets, “anything you want to share with me?”

“Not particularly,” Nanami huffs as he places the last gift into the paper bag.

“Not that it’s news, but you’ve had a particularly displeased scowl resting on your face for over a week…”

The blonde pauses what he’s doing to exhale with frustration, and it only prompts Gojo to quirk a curious brow.

Nothing Nanami could say would make him feel better about the fact that he saw his ex-wife with another man. Nothing will ease the wariness in his chest that you two have barely spoken to one another since that god awful encounter, and the one thing that Nanami least expected to happen on his birthday was for you to forget to call or text him a wish.

Instead, he swallows the hurt that lumps in his throat and glosses over Gojo’s concern over him.

“Nothing’s wrong”

He glances at his wrist to check the time. The festivities of the afternoon has him running late, which means that he’ll have to rush home and get ready quickly to make it in time to your place.

He picks up the two paper bags laying out on the table, “I have to go. I have to pick up Hiroki…”

His superior pouts his lip while complacently nodding his head, and taking into account the sudden sensitivity around the subject. His knowing eyes hidden behind his blindfold can tell that Nanami was avoiding the discussion entirely, but the blonde refused to stay behind and give Gojo anymore ammunition for him to pry even further.

But before he walked out the door, he could hear Satoru yelling from the back room.

"Cheer up, Nanamin! You never know if the day will take an unexpected turn!"

As he made his way out onto the grounds of Jujutsu Tech, Nanami considers that there is always a reason to celebrate one’s birthday, but for whatever reason, none of them seemed good enough for him this year.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

On his way home from work, Nanami tries to show gratitude to the small pockets of joy in his day.

He begrudgingly sent Gojo a follow up text to thank him for what he put together with the students after feeling a tad bit guilty about his rude responses earlier.

He was soon met with a bombardment of annoying pictures and I love you posts from his superior, to which he immediately muted the chat to in order to stop getting harassed with endless notifications.

He can feel the exhaustion settling in by the time he arrives to his place, slowly turning the key to his front door. Carefully taking off his shoes, he neatly places them on his shelf by the entrance before dragging his tired heels down the hallway.

He can’t stop thinking about the way the students showered him with such affection, and it is a conscious reminder of why he continues pursuing being a jujutsu sorcerer.

He cares for every one of them deeply, and would never allow the archaic practices of the society to strip them of their golden hearts and pure minds.

Things have to be different with them.

He places the paper bags filled with gifts on the floor, thinking that he’ll get around to opening them sometime tomorrow, then proceeds to loosen the tie around his neck. He steps out into the open space of his apartment, only to find himself walking into a sea of golden strings that were tied to round, blue balloons.

Nanami freezes.

You’re in the middle of his living room, wearing a pair of denim jeans and an embroidered white top that he specifically remembers buying for you while you were both dating.

You’re holding his son in your arms, the two of you beaming a very similar smile, and wearing an obnoxious pair of frilly party hats.

“Wha-”

Hiroki interrupts him by blowing into the party horn, the silly noise making him giggle as he repeats the action for a second time.

“Surprise!” you bounce with a little excitement, and Hiroki mimics your phrase as he attempts to speak out this new word.

Your ex-husband stares at you in shock.

He’s still absorbing all the elements around him, taking in the new details of the colorful, piped cake resting on the dining table, along with a full spread of dinner when the aromatics finally envelop his senses while also recognizing that there is music playing as low, mellow beats surround the room.

“We got your daddy good,” you adorably whisper into Hiroki’s ear, and Nanami swears that he can feel his heart beat for the first time in a week.

“What…” he rasps, snapping himself out of the disorientation and breaking the silence. “What are you doing here? How…How did you even get in?”

“I used the spare key you gave me…” you explain.

“But you’ve never used the spare key…” he argues back courteously.

You step closer towards him, and Hiroki immediately extends his chubby arms out to his father while dropping his party horn in the process.

Brown eyes stay watching you as Nanami reaches for his son, he secures him in one arm while the other searches for your waist to stop you from crouching down to pick up the insignificant object.

He squeezes you affectionately, begging for answers.

“I know, but today is different…It’s your birthday, Kento!”

“But…”

“But, what?” you question with a raised brow, your eyes glancing away for only a minute to look at how Hiroki mirrors his father. “Did you really think we weren’t going to celebrate this together?”

He slips his arm around your waist, resting his large palm flat against your the small of your back.

“I just thought that…I just thought that you were busy. I haven’t really heard from you this week…”

His voice is small, cautionary almost, like he’s too afraid to let his woes slip out.

You giggle sheepishly, and it sends goosebumps to run all over his skin.

“Well, I’ve been running around planning out a little something for somebody special,” you admit with a sly smile, “plus, I’ve also been helping out Yuji and Gojo with their secret surprise for you…”

Nanami can’t help but crack a smile, sensing the frustration of his stress dispersing.

“Don’t tell me that was your idea too?”

“Not necessarily, but I offered to help them out after Gojo called me. Besides, Yuji was struggling with ideas because he couldn’t swing any decent answers out of you…”

His fingers lightly tense around the fabric of your top, scrunching the material just a bit. “You knew about it but you weren’t there today,” he points out.

Your heart shivers from the innocent contact, but you hold your unwavering grin before replying, “I was thinking of stopping by at first, but I told Gojo that I would rather do something more cozy. I thought-I thought you might have appreciate if it was just the three of us celebrating together…”

Nanami smiles and it brightens his whole face. His eyes gleam with pure, unfiltered joy and he tenderly tugs you closer into his frame as he pulls you in for a much needed hug.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” he murmurs into your hair.

He keeps you there, the stillness only disturbed by Hiroki’s slightly fidgety state. He strokes his thumb up and down against your back, and rests his chin on your temple as he allows you to meld into the contortions of his frame when you return his embrace.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Nanami was the one who always cooked.

In a way, your former husband spoiled you from ever wanting to go back into the kitchen by yourself because he always put together the most delectable meals.

Tonight, you decided to take on that role.

Gojo managed to keep Nanami distracted enough with their own party which gave you enough time to put together the spread of dinner. You sliced up fresh bread that you picked up from his favorite bakery, prepared homemade garlic oil which you used to cook down pieces of steak, and assembled a hearty salad.

The look of appreciation on Nanami’s face was more than enough to make you happy.

Content and stuffed with delicious food, you can’t help but admire him as he holds Hiroki’s cheek. The comparison of their size shows you how much time has already passed. Your son was no longer a tiny bundle with a pink nose wrapped up in a little blanket, he was growing into a whole new form of cuteness. He laughs with comprehension, and looks at you and Nanami with a recognition that reassures his safety.

“Da da da da…” he sings mindlessly, and Nanami chuckles as he swipes his thumb over Hiroki’s cheek to pick up a streak of pink buttercream.

“He’s covered in frosting,”

Your eyes immediately drop to your ex-husband’s lips, and you can’t help but tuck the bottom of your mouth between your teeth as you watch him suck off the frosting from the pad of his finger.

Your stomach coils, a tight band forming deep in your core, it’s so easy for you to get wound up whenever you’re around him, but lately that feeling has been much harder to fight off.

You sink your fork into your half-eaten piece of cake, picking up a tiny amount of vanilla sponge and moving it closer to your son. “Hiroki, you want another bite?” you ask, but you watch as he scrunches his nose in disdain.

His big, curious eyes catch the pretty color bordering the sponge, and he mindlessly reaches his fingers onto the plate to grab a fistful of cream.

“Ah! Hiroki!” you laugh playfully, as you pull the plate away and place it down onto the coffee table, denying him a second chance to do the same thing with his other hand.

“We should probably get him cleaned up…”

He’s already devouring the buttercream, and a deep, rumbling laughter erupts from right next to you.

“He’s fine,” Nanami shrugs off, lightly pushing his son’s blonde locks away from his face.

“Yeah, but I don’t want these sticky fingers getting all over your presents…” you insist.

You stand up from your seat and reach your arms out to grab Hiroki, but to your surprise Nanami simply gets up from the couch as well.

“Alright, my darling, you heard your mother…let’s get you cleaned up…”

He follows you into the kitchen. You immediately turn on the faucet to the sink, checking to make sure that the temperature is neither too hot or cold. Nanami leans forward, keeping his thumb and index finger around Hiroki’s wrist and directing it towards the water.

He rinses off the mess while you look around for some hand towels, to which your husband informs you that there are some extra ones folded in the bottom drawer.

You reach down to grab them, but by the time you return upright you see that your son has already found another way to dry off his wet little hands. He’s smoothing it all over Nanami’s blue shirt, leaving damp patches across his chest.

“Mama!” Hiroki calls out, turning his body within Nanami’s grasp to reach for you.

You press your mouth together as you look at your former lover with sympathy, but he nonchalantly just shrugs his shoulders.

“I guess he’s done with me now that he’s dried himself off”

You place the hand towel back on the counter, and carry your son in your arms. He flashes you the most angelic expression in the world, a look of such innocence that makes it impossible for you to hide your smile. You press you forehead against his own, and leave a peck on the button of his nose.

“Ready to give your daddy his present?”

Nanami leans his hip against the counter, keeping only a short distance of space between you both. You don’t have to face him to know that that he’s looking at you both with eyes dipped in pure devotion because you can feel the sheer intensity of his gaze from standing right where you are.

“Dinner, cake, and now presents? I’m truly a spoiled man today…”

You gaze at him from underneath your lashes, aware that you’re allowing your heart to speak on your behalf before replying, “you deserve to be spoiled, Ken”

He takes another step closer, narrowing the gap, and your entire body tenses up. You breathe in the faint scent of his lingering cologne, a fragrance of smoked wood and spicy herbs, and for whatever reason you can’t stop thinking about pressing yourself into the source.

“Alright,” he teases with flirtatious grin, “spoil me.”

The three of you are soon back on the couch, with Hiroki seated comfortably on your lap.“The first present is from Hiroki,” you announce as you pass the gift towards your husband, “he even wrapped it up himself.”

“I can see that,” Nanami acknowledges and starts to peel away at the messily folded paper to reveal the what is underneath.

The ceramic plate is hand painted. In the middle was the palm print of Hiroki’s right hand, and the detailing consisted of uneven brushstrokes in various colors. You spent a whole hour with your son to guide him with the design, practicing the motion of how to paint over and over again. Nanami smoothed his finger over his son’s imprint, focusing specifically on the letters right in the center which read: “I love you”.

“My, my, Hiroki…” he beams with pride, but his ears were turning pink knowing whose true hand wrote those words. “I didn’t know you had such artistic talents…”

His son smiles despite not quite comprehending his father’s sentiment. Nanami leans down to kiss his cheek, before leaving a second on the top of his head.

You don’t know why you’re so nervous to give him your gift but your hands tremble slightly as you pick it up, and a spark of electricity bolts up your left arm when he deliberately brushes his fingers on yours as he takes it from your hand.

“I know you have a whole stockpile of gifts to go through, but this is another that you can add to the list. You don’t have to open it now, you can save it for later if you like-”

Nanami unravels the tiny ribbon wrapped in the center, “it’s okay, I don’t mind opening it now.”

Your hands clasp themselves around Hiroki’s belly, and you bite the inside of your cheek as you keep your eyes focused on his face in anticipation of his reaction.

Nanami holds the vinyl record in his hand, his brows lifting almost instantly.

“You always mentioned how much you loved collecting cds when you were in teenager, and that you wanted to invest in having your own record collection one day. So, I thought this might be a good place to start! I remembered you saying that this band in particular was your favorite, so I wanted to make sure to get one by them…”

“This,” he interjects quietly, “This is a very rare vinyl…it’s not easy to get your hands on an original…”

Your cheeks grow hot, “yeah, well, it took me a while to find it but the search was worth it!”

“This is very sweet of you…”

Your mouth stretches from ear to ear, your cheeks pinching with delight. “I’m so happy you like it, Ken!”

When he looks at you this time, you’re completely captivated by the warm tones of his eyes and slight dilation of his pupils. His attention dips to your parted lips, before returning back to meet your heated stare.

He places the vinyl carefully onto the counter.

“I love the present,” he confesses, “I loved the cake, the dinner, having you both here…everything was…perfect.”

“Good, good,” you nod with approval, all the while trying to ignore your throat suddenly feeling tight. “You know, when I ran into you last week, I was genuinely worried that I might have given it all away…”

“Right, when you introduced me to Matsuda…”

His face grows sullen, and you’re caught off guard by his sudden indignation. Just as he found a moment to get a closer, Nanami decides in these fleeting seconds to pull himself away. He clears his throat as he shifts down, “thank you so much for the gifts,” he repeats with a stiff tone, “I think I’ll just get a head start with cleaning up…”

You look at him peculiarly, unsure of what triggered your handsome ex to shut down so suddenly around you.

“Don’t worry about cleaning up, I can do that-”

“I don’t want to keep you,” he harshly remarks, but the way he cuts off you makes you crinkle your eyes in frustration.

“Wait a minute,” you shoots your hand out to grab the sleeve of his shirt. “I’m not-I’m not in a rush to leave or anything…”

Nanami shrugs off your touch and it feels like a slap to the wrist.

"It's alright," he adds, "I don't want to intrude on you if you have other plans..."

Confusion gets the best of you, you can't seem to figure out what exactly set him off so quickly. You know this man well enough that you can tell that he's visibly upset, except he's doing everything in his power to hide it from you.

He picks up the plates on the coffee table before proceeding to head towards the kitchen.

You glance down at Hiroki for some level of consolation, but your son just looks back up at you with equal uncertainty.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

You settle Hiroki onto his play mat before making your way over to a very disgruntled Nanami. Your brain replays the last five minutes to decipher what it was you said that set him off, and you slide your hands into the back pocket of your jeans as you hesitantly approach him in the kitchen.

He's placing dishes into the sink, the warm light illuminating his face and highlighting the tips of his sharp cheekbones. You can see the twinge in his jaw, notice the tight knot of tension resting between his brows as he keeps his lips pressed into a firm line.

"Ken?" you speak softly, a wary smile forming on your lips. "What's wrong?"

He stops what he's doing, his hands reaching the edge of the counter and he squeezes the surface until his knuckles turn white. He's still trying to keep a level ahead, drawing out another exhale until he finally motivates himself to face you.

His eyes darken and your body shivers.

"Is this supposed to be test?"

"Test?"

"You need more proof to see how far I'll go just to make you happy?"

"What proof? I don't even know what you're talking about-"

He shakes his head in disbelief, standing upright before taking two long strides to close the gap of space so he's looking down right at you.

"We're just going to sit here and pretend like I didn't interrupt you on a date with your dear friend, Matsuda-san..."

"Date?!" you blurt in shock, taking in your ex lovers odd accusation with full surprise. "Kento-"

He folds his arms over his broad chest as he shifts his weight from one foot to the next.

"Look, I get it. We aren't together anymore, but you're still...very, very Important to me. I regard you so highly..."

"As do I-"

"I haven't asked anything of you in all this, not a single thing. I've said yes to whatever it is you have asked me. I did that all for your sake, not mine. The least I expected was some decency in return, and for you to be honest with me when you decided to jump into another relationship..."

"Kento!" you call out, reaching your hands up to his cheeks to stop him from rambling on any further.

The act renders him silent.

"I'm not...I'm not dating Matsuda," you state with a slight laugh like it's the most comical idea to cross your mind. "As a matter of fact, I'm not seeing anyone right now...I...I haven't even considered the idea...."

"But last week..." he insists with a panic that makes your chest ache.

You drop your hands to his shoulders to give him a reassuring squeeze.

"Kento, I asked you to watch over Hiroki because I was trying to sort this out," you clarify, glancing your eyes towards the party decorations and the entire set up that you had worked so hard to put together. "You never go to the bakery on a Wednesday, so I thought it would the perfect time to reserve all the stuff that I needed. I ran into Matsuda while I was there. The last time I saw him was when we...when I agreed to have dinner with him..."

Nanami breathes in softly, steadying himself as he hangs on attentively to every word that you have to say.

"Matsuda couldn't take the hint that I wasn't interested. I was about to decline his offer of walking me home when you showed up, and I...I really didn't expect to run into you. I overreacted because I was worried that you might catch onto my little plan. I just came up with a random excuse to lead you off the trail. I didn't..."

You sigh with remorse, shifting to look up at your ex from underneath your lashes as you finally piece together the source of his contention.

"I didn't even realize how that must have looked to you. I'm so sorry, Kento. I would never do anything to hurt you like that. Ever. You're too...you're too important me...and all I was thinking about...all I wanted to do was to make your birthday special for you. I really wasn't giving Matsuda any consideration..."

A wave of relief washes over him, all the while you can't stop thinking about how cute he looks all flustered.

"Shit," he murmurs, bringing two fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose as his cheeks turn a subtle shade of pink. "I feel like an idiot..."

You purse your lips into another small grin, "you're not an idiot, it's just a misunderstanding..."

He stays silent for a moment, returning his sights back on you as he nips at his bottom lip.

"I'm...I'm never going to be okay with it..." he boldly admits, his voice dropping another octave as two hands settle against your sides. "I'll tolerate everything else between us, but I'll never be okay watching you move on with somebody else..."

His words make your heart shrivel like a piece of fruit bathing underneath the golden sun. Heat rushes to your cheeks as the band in your belly twists into another knot.

When you part your lips to say something, no words come out.

"Are you really that shocked?" he questions, clenching his hands around the waistband of your jeans. "Put yourself in my shoes, how would you feel if you saw me with someone else?"

You feel a catch in your throat. You don't want to admit how often you've thought about it, considered what he does in his spare time when you and Hiroki weren't in the picture. Whenever your mind spirals with the idea that he was with another woman, it would bring tears to your eyes every. single. time.

"I don't even like thinking about it," you disclose, your voice cracking slightly as your throat goes dry.

"I guess," he whispers, tugging you forward so that you were both now chest to chest, "we can at least agree on one thing..."

Your hands trail to his pecs, your eyes growing heavy as you feel the weight of his forehead press tenderly onto yours. His fingers find your chin, the featherlight touch tilting it only slightly upward so your lips can brush over his.

He doesn't stop himself this time, doesn't consider the laundry list of reasons as to why this will only complicate things further. He's tired of this divorce, tired of not having you around, so fucking tired of not kissing you whenever his heart desires-

So, he presses his mouth delicately down onto yours and throws caution to the wind.

Your knees buckle, your fingers tightening around the fabric of his shirt as your eyes fall close like you've been cast under a spell. A surge of adrenaline rushes through your veins, making your body buzz from the tip of your fingers down to your toes. You can feel Nanami's heart race from beneath your palm just as he parts his lips to invite you to taste him even further and you can't help but sing sweetly into the kiss as you allow your tongue to slip through.

"hmph, Ken," you mumble, attempting to draw your spit slicked lips away but the man simply captures you back with ease.

He can hear the resistance in your voice, but there was no way he was letting you go that easily again.

"Stay the night," he requests with a gentle snag of your bottom lip.

Your shaky arms circle around his neck, your body melting into him as he daringly draws his hand from your lower back to dive straight into the back pocket of your jeans.

With a kiss to the corner of your mouth he follows up his demand with a loving "please?"

"I don't know...mmph," you sigh, but in between Nanami interrupts you with another peck.

"I don't know..." you repeat again under your breath, only this time you find yourself searching for his mouth.

The exchange carries on, light smacks and tender licks distracting you both and Nanami drops his other hand to circle around your throat.

The blood rushes between his legs feeling the vibrating flutter of your pulse beneath his fingers.

"Hiroki's staying" he insists as he nuzzles the tip of his nose over yours. "We'll have some more cake, get him ready for bed, and then you and I..."

Your fingers thread between the strands of his blonde hair, your neck falling to the side as he travels to the spot that makes you go weak.

"can keep talking."

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regarding ex husband nanami requests - requests for this series are still open, I feel like I'm building the story with you guys so I'll keep it that way until it's complete. please note that not all requests will be fulfilled - I do get some that are quite similar so I'm selecting based off of how the story progresses xo

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let know if you would liked to be tagged! x

@hisheadismountfuji @clara-geekhime @moonmalice @bibemiiu @nutheadgeenat @satoruhour @i-be-teff

[gojoloves]

✧˖°. on location ✧˖°.

fem!reader x ino takuma 1.6k words kinks and warnings: established relationship, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, light teasing, dirty talk, spit talk, pet names, creampie

it’s not that unusual of a situation to find yourself in: aimlessly wandering around with ino, looking into reports of some lower-grade curses in the abandoned shopping center. it’s not particularly what you’d had in mind for a friday night, but once nanami had made the request, who were you to say no?

not like ino would’ve listened, anyway, even if you had wanted to ignore nanami.

“we’ve been looking for over an hour,” you comment, glancing over to your partner. “you sure this wasn’t some misunderstanding?”

ino tilts his head curiously, your boyfriend reminding you a lot of an overgrown puppy in the moment. he’s always had that charm about him, you think - a bit dim at times but always so endearing and hardworking, curious about the world around him. he hasn’t changed a lot in the years you’ve known him. “i don’t think nanami-san would send us out here if there was a chance it was a misunderstanding,” he mumbles. “maybe we’re just not lookin’ hard enough.”

you laugh quietly, stepping closer to him. “we’ve circled this place three times by now,” you tell him, resting your palms against his chest. “don’t you want to go home, throw on a movie -.” you lean up, pecking his lips gently. “- maybe have some fun?”

ino’s eyes narrow, one eyebrow raising curiously. “fun, huh?” he asks. in spite of the look he’s giving you, you can see the way his eyes seem to sparkle, both from mischief and intrigue.

“lots of fun,” you say with a grin. “we need to get started decorating for halloween, remember?”

with a click of his tongue and a roll of his eyes, he laughs. “you’re such a fuckin’ tease,” he says, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer, kissing you once more - a bit more intensely this time, like he really means it. you feel your back press against one of the shopping center’s pillars as his tongue runs across your bottom lip.

your own arms come to rest over his shoulders, caught up in the moment until you feel his hands ghosting underneath the edge of your skirt, coming to rest on your ass. “kuma,” you murmur, tone a clear warning.

“hmm?” he asks, angling his head to press his lips to your neck. “what is it, babe?”

“here?” you ask. “seriously?”

you plan to say more, but the way he pulls at your panties, letting the elastic snap back against your skin, makes you squeal, pushing your hips against his in surprise. then, you can feel him - his half-hard cock pressing against his sweats - and you understand he’s very serious.

“very serious,” he says, and you can feel the smile he’s sporting against your skin. he pulls away to look at you. “this place has been abandoned for ages, and like you said - no curses around. why not?”

the problem with your boyfriend being so charming, so damn lovable is that he rarely hears the word “no” from you. with the boyish grin he’s wearing, you know he won’t be hearing it today, either.

“okay, fine,” you cave, biting your lip briefly before giving him another kiss. “just - quickly, yeah?”

“that’s my girl,” he says with a wink. “turn around for me?”

you do as he asks, turning around and placing your hands flat against the pillar, bent over slightly so that your ass is on display for him as soon as he flips your skirt up. his hand trails down your lower back and over your ass before settling between your thighs, rubbing your clothed core.

“god, i love how easy it is for me to make you wet,” he says. you can hear the pride in his voice, and it only gets you even more excited.

the whine that escapes you isn’t your fault, you tell yourself. “kuma, don’t - don’t say things like that,” you mutter, but it only makes his smirk grow wider.

“i’m right, though, yeah?” he asks, taking another look around before using his free hand to tug his sweats and underwear down his hips, just enough to reveal his dick. he spits into his palm, moving to give himself a few strokes before pulling the damp fabric of your underwear to the side. “don’t even need to get you any more worked up.”

when you feel him tap his length against your pussy, you squirm a little; it only gets worse as he rubs his head up and down your slit, and a moan slips from your lips as it presses against your clit. your nails dig into the column, eager for him to just fuck you already.

“please,” you beg, turning to look at him over your shoulder.

as you do, you feel it - the way he slowly begins to press his length into you, one hand guiding himself, the other arm wrapped around your waist to support you.

“damn, you feel fuckin’ amazing,” he says, letting his head loll back for a moment before looking back to you. “pussy’s so warm and tight.”

you can feel every inch of him as he pulls his hips from yours only to bring them back again, thrusting in and out of you at a pace he knows is your favorite, sure to hit your sweet spot just how you like it. with a moan of his name, your nails drag down the pillar again, leaving scratch marks behind. “f-feels so good,” you whimper. “always makin’ me feel good.”

and he has the nerve to laugh, his chuckle low and breathy as he continues to fuck into you. “that’s my job, pretty girl, huh? gotta keep my girl feelin’ good,” he says, the hand on your hip squeezing your flesh in the most enticing manner.

your breaths grow heavy as you do your best to maintain your hold on the column, and your attentive boyfriend is quick to notice. he pulls out of you briefly, making you whine again, but it doesn’t last long.

“stand up ‘n turn around for me, babe,” he says.

when you do, he quickly presses your back against the pillar, hiking one leg up around his hip before pushing back into your cunt. “oh god,” you cry, resting your forehead against his.

“that better?” he asks. “just hold on to me - i got you.”

you press your lips to his, one hand resting on his cheek as you pull him closer. with every thrust, you feel his pelvic bone brushing against your clit, sending you closer to the edge. when he trails a hand down to add his thumb to the mix, you know you’re in for it.

“k-kuma,” you cry, the tightening in your stomach only growing worse.

“you gonna come for me? gonna cream all over my cock?” he asks with a grunt.

you can only nod as you feel your orgasm wrack your body, head falling against his shoulder as you tremble in his hold. but you’ve barely had time to come down from your own high when you hear his voice shakily say your name.

“close, babe,” he tells you. “where - shit, where do you want it?”

without hesitation, you answer. “inside me,” you insist. “wanna feel you, takuma, please. fill me up.”

your words are unfair, and you know it. you know there’s no faster way to get him to finish than to egg him on with those three little words. unfair, maybe, but so, so sweet-tasting in your mouth.

with one final thrust and a moan that’s music to your ears, he comes inside you, pulling you tighter against him. he kisses you again, hips at a standstill as he reaches up to rest a hand on your cheek. “so good, baby, fuck,” he whispers. his lips move to press kisses to your cheeks, your nose - practically anywhere on your face he can reach. “you okay?”

you give him a smile, nodding eagerly. “felt amazing,” you say softly, matching his tone. “you always make me feel good; you know that.”

he laughs softly, nodding. “maybe. but i still like to hear it,” he says.

the intimate moment is broken by his phone ringing in his pocket. without even pulling out of you, he reaches down to grab the device, answering the call.

the look you give him isn’t enough to make him feel ashamed.

“what’s up?” he says into the phone. you can vaguely hear nanami’s voice on the other end of the line, and you watch ino with a curious expression. “yeah, she and i are there right now. we didn’t see any - yeah, the old shopping center off of nakamichi street.” there’s a pause. “oh. you - you’d meant the one off shichifuku street.”

you have to cover your mouth to stop yourself from laughing.

“got it, nanami-san. we’ll, uh - we’ll head that way now. sorry.”

as soon as he hangs up, your laugh echoes through the building. “i can’t believe you,” you manage to get out between laughs. “seriously?”

the faint hint of pink on his cheeks tells you plenty. “shut up,” he mumbles, but there’s still plenty of affection behind it. he carefully pulls out of you, reaching down to adjust your panties and skirt before pulling his sweats back up.

taking your hand, he begins to lead you towards the building’s exit. “come on, pretty girl. let’s see if we can find a bathroom to get you cleaned up in before we get back to work.”