#raya x you

[pastel-peach-writes]

hey,

sorry if i'm bothering you, i loved so muchhh your raya x reader one shot, sooo i was wondering if have some time, can you do another one? (something fluff because she's so adorable).No pressure of course.

Thank you so much and keep going because you are fantastic.

Have a nice day/afternoon/night

Hi Anon! Sorry, I'm getting to this so late. I would love to do this for you. Raya x reader coming up!

When I Looked Into Your Eyes, I Saw Stars For The First Time | Raya x Reader

╰┈➤ PLOT: Raya was helpless with her crush on you. What she didn't know was how much you liked her back. In other words, four times Raya daydreamed about you and the one time she thought you might be daydreaming too.

╰┈➤ WARNINGS: Hopeless Lesbian, Fluff, Long Oneshot, No Use of Y/n, Second Person, Not Proofread.

twenty-one. raya was twenty-one freaking years old and she still had a crush on you. it's been six years. six, and raya still had no clue how to get you out of her head. how could she want to?

when she thought of you, she thought of how your eyes sparkled during firework shows at night festivals. she thought of how your cheeks puffed up when you stuffed your face full of food and then how depleted you felt after.

to her, you were so cute it was sickening. downright nauseating and her knees were weak.

-

ONE

-

"wow, raya! are you sick or something? you're looking at that human like how noi looks at golden and shiny objects." the dragon lady commented. raya hummed in a measle response. she pushed a lazy shoulder towards the dragon and let her hat loosely hang from her fingers.

at the day market, you were negotiating with an elder merchant. as you walked by her table, you noticed some sparkly crystal-beaded jewelry. upon further inspection, the beads were fake. nonetheless, you still wanted the jewelry, but not at the ridiculous price she was advertising.

"all's good, sisu," raya slurred her words. she shifted her weight to her back foot, letting the other stretch out. in a love-stricken daze, she put a hand in her pocket.

"yeah, right," namaari commented. she took the hat from raya's fingers. with light movement, she placed the hat on raya's head. namaari continued to smack the top of the hat with a bonk!

"hey!" raya huffed. she tilted the brim of the hat upwards. "what gives?"

"what gives is your longing. stop being a baby and ask them out already." namaari rolled her eyes. she crossed her arms over her chest while a merchant went around advertising homemade bao.

raya scoffed. "i have no clue what you're talking about."

"oo, raya has a crush! who is it? who is it?" sisu bounced around hon her heels, grabbing a bao as she looked up and down the street for raya's crush.

on cue, you walked over to the group holding five bracelets. "i finally got her to mark the price down some. that lady had a tight grasp around her 60 jade per bracelet."

"per bracelet?!" sisu exclaimed. she snapped her attention to the shiny objects wrapped around your fingers. you nodded. you took a blue and purple bracelet from your collection and wrapped it around sisu's wrist.

"yup. 60. she's crazy but im crazier. i made her change the price to 15 for one or 20 for 5."

"whoa," namaari added. "that's a crazy price drop. how'd you do it?"

"a magician never reveals their secret." you gave namaari a dazzling grin as you slid a firey red bracelet around her wrist. raya tilted her head to the side and hummed again. the polishing of the crystals had nothing against the shine in your eye.

-

TWO

-

"okay, so, i gathered information from tail to fang and no one has anything on fermented bean sprout powder," you announced as your walked into the designated meeting room of raya's home. raya and namaari were sat at the table.

raya and namaari, up to no good as usual, were making some sort of potion or maybe a dish that required outlandish ingredients like dusted jasmine flower and fermented bean sprout powder. you weren't even sure if those things existed.

raya groaned, leaning her elbows on the table. she held her head in her hands. "are you sure? no one has any information on anything?"

"mm, nope." you placed the collection of papers you had in your hand on the table. beside the paper was a stack of books. "hey," you ran your hand across the thick leather cover of the first book. it was as thick as box of juice, its cover dusty and scratched up. the title of the book was intelligible. "can i scan through this to see if i can find anything?"

namaari, who's been quiet this whole time and enjoying the daze looked in raya's eye, turned her head towards the Heart princess. "yeah uh," raya sat up in her chair. she cleared her throat and scooted the chair closer in. "of course." with a thank you and a sweet smile, you sat at the table. you took the thick book off the top of the stack. it landed on the table with a thick thud. a puff of dust erupted of underneath. you simply swatted the dust away before reading.

raya tilted her head, resting a cheek in the palm of her hand. she was at the end of the table while you were on the opposite end and on the side. the same side namaari was sitting on. namaari was in the chair closest to raya.

raya let out a quiet, dreamy sigh. switching her head to her other hand as you flipped to another page. namaari groaned. she sat back in her chair and pinched the bridge of her nose. "seriously, you're still hung up over this? i thought you were done."

snapped out of her thoughts, raya glared at namaari. "may i remind you why we're here in the first place? no, I'm not done. stick a cork in it."

"stick a cork in it? stick a cork--" namaari stood from her chair. the chair scruffed against the flooring. the sound rang through the echoey room, but you paid no mind. raya grabbed her wrist and shoved her back down.

"stick a cork in it."

-

THREE

-

"i don't know, there's just, something about them," raya spoke to the stars. she sat at her bedroom window. she had the doors opened, curtains pulled back, and rested an arm on the seal. she sat on the cush cushions of the bench her father made her when she was young.

at first, it was so she could look at the stars without going on her tiptoes, but now it was a place for her to collect her thoughts and talk to the sky.

"i feel different around them. it was the same way i felt with namaari when we were little, but stronger somehow," she spoke out to the sky. "like, when i first met namaari, i was bursting with excitement. i was making a new friend, she was nice, and also a dragon lover. obviously, that feeling turned into hate for a little while, and I'm not saying i hate them or namaari--" she interrupted her ramble by groaning. she dramatically let her forehead fall to her arm.

she took a deep breath. "saying these feelings are so much harder than thinking them," she mumbled into her hand. she lifted her head up, placing her chin on her arm instead. "what i have with them is different than what i have with namaari. it's the excitement, the giggling, and the dizziness i get when I'm around them that's so addicting. i didn't get that with namaari. what i had with her was simply platonic." raya looked up into the sky. a cluster of stars gathered by some leaves of a tree. a soft breeze brushed her skin, forcing raya to take another deep breath. she closed her eyes. she let her shoulders come up to her ears and then deflate. she slouched, feeling a pull towards the ground. slow, she opened her eyes again. she was refreshed, renewed. she knew what her feelings meant now.

when she looked back into the sky again, a star that led the cluster twinkled. raya smiled, the breeze brushing past her ears. "yeah, i get it now. thank you."

-

FOUR

-

finally, the last time raya daydreamed about you co-sided with the time she realized you daydream about her.

there was a party at Heart. it was summer and Heart used every excuse they could to throw a party. Heart's Annual Summer Bash was something all the regions participated in. before the whole, saving the world thing with sisu, a sprinkle of people from each region would come, but since then, everyone came!

raya stood by the food table, resting on the half wall behind. with a fond look in her eye, she scanned the party. there was a couple dancing with their kid in the middle of the dance floor, kids running around with food all over their faces, and then there was you, happily talking to sisu. whatever you were talking about, it excited you.

your eyes lit up, their color even more vibrant than before. the apples of your cheeks puffed up because of how much you were smiling and laughing. raya felt like her chest was going to explode. she wanted to cup your face and kiss it, make you smile more. she wanted to hold your hands and feel how soft they were. raya wanted to do so many things with you, but she couldn't. she didn't want to creep you out.

"raya," her father said as he walked over with a smile. he was dressed up in his party wear, his hair in his usual man bun. snapping out of her trance, raya matched her dad's smile. she pulled him into a hug.

"hi, dad!"

"raya," her dad resumed. he pulled away from the hug. "this party is amazing. you and namaari outdid yourselves." raya waved him off with a sheepish chuckle.

"oh, it was nothing."

"nonsense. this party is better than any one i orchestrated." chief benja laughed, shaking his head. with a happy sigh, he leaned against the wall. "are you okay, dewdrop? i saw you spacing out earlier."

raya's smile softened. she turned around to lean her forearms on the wall's edge. she looked out the opening. she could see the bridge and sparkling water. even from far away, she could see the leaves moving in the wind. "yeah, I'm okay."

chief benja's smile matched hers. he rubbed the small of her back. "you saw them, didn't you? why don't you confess and tell them how you feel? it's been seven years--"

"-- six actually." raya stood upright. she held onto the wall as she rocked herself back and forth. "it's been six years since i had a crush on them. won't be seven until two months."

chief benja laughed. he put his hands up in defense. "oh, excuse me. six years." he opened his mouth to speak again, but from the corner of his eye, he saw a certain young adult walking up to them while fidgeting with a beaded bracelet. "oh, i think someone is calling my name," he told raya. "I'll catch you later."

"okay, dad--"

"hi, raya."

-

FIVE (technically one)

-

she just had to stand like that. with her thumbs in her pockets and her back against the wall.

you were proud to say your crush on raya has been a successful secret. no one, absolutely no one, knew you liked her. not even namaari, the girl who swears she knows everyone's secret. she was too wrapped up in her own life to notice yours. not that you were complaining though.

you had a crush on raya for years now; you didn't know the exact number.

there were many opportunities where you hinted your crush on her. like earlier this week, you bought her a bracelet. then, you volunteered to find that ingredient she needed, and now, you were at her party having the time of your life.

okay, so, maybe you weren't the best at hinting at your crush on her but today you had a plan. you bought an extra bracelet for her. you spent your free time during the week creating a personalized charm. it was a heart with your initials engraved into it along with a plus sign. it was the perfect gift to confess. or maybe it was creepy. you hoped she didn't see it as creepy.

"hi, raya," you spoke. your voice was soft and quiet. if you two weren't so close, you were afraid raya wouldn't hear you.

"oh," raya turned around. she stood up straighter, a smile spreading across her face. "hey, you. you enjoying the party?"

your heart was racing. her beautiful brown eyes were staring directly into yours. you could only dream of this moment. her, smelling of fruit and forest, and the strands of her hair neatly pulled back and braided. she even had a half bun to match her dad's.

swallowing hard and wondering where the heck the moisture in your mouth went, you nodded. "yeah! um, I'm having a good time. i actually came over here to talk to you about something."

"uh oh, that doesn't sound good." raya chuckled. she waved you over to join looking at the view with her. you obliged. you stood next to her and instead of looking at the view, you looked at her. "what's up?"

you took a deep breath. there was no time but now to confess. "i made, well, bought this bracelet for you and added the charm." you handed the bracelet off to her. as she grabbed it, her fingertips lingered on yours.

you felt fizz burst up and through you. it was like she knew the effect her touch had on you. your ears were ringing and goosebumps spread to your arms. raya chuckled softly, her own cheeks changing in color.

she inspected the bracelet. she dragged her fingers against the small and cool beads. "this is really cool, thank you."

anxious, you watched as her eyes scanned the item. she finally took notice of the charm. she brought the bracelet closer to her eyes, squinting to read the text. the new color on her cheeks got worse. her dazzling eyes met yours and then looked back at the charm.

"this... this is..."

"raya," you let out a breath. "i like you. i've liked you for some time now and keeping my feelings a secret, while wildly successful, it's also wildly stressful. i lay awake at night hoping and wishing i get to see you and hang out with you." you glanced up at her. she was staring at you now. her face was hard to read. you couldn't tell if she was intrigued or grossed out. either way, you continued. "and if the gift isn't your style or maybe I'm not your style, but i thought you deserved to know how i feel about you so," you trailed off. how else were you supposed to end that? she still hasn't said anything.

raya didn't have anything to say. she realized a few nights back that actions mean a lot more than words. after you confessed, she thought of all the times you were there for her or gifted her something. how couldn't she notice? you were right there. all the time

she held up her wrist to show off the purple bracelet you bought her earlier that week. with a teasing smile, she took it off. she slipped the new one on. after putting the old bracelet in her pocket, she held your hand up to hers. your bracelet on the wrist she held up. she intertwined your fingers, her teasing smile now a grin. "i like you too, jewels."

you laughed. the ringing in your ears calmed down, but that didn't stop the fuzzy feeling in your stomach and the roaring warmth on your cheeks. "jewels?"

she nodded. "you have a knack for buying me jewelry," she cooed. "it's cute, but you don't have to keep buying stuff for me anymore. so, no more hassling old ladies to make sure you got a great gift for your super cool and attractive crush." she poked your nose.

you swatted her hand. "hey, no teasing!"

"ahh," she let go of your hand to wrap her arm around your shoulders. "no can do, jewels. you have a crush on me, it's only fair to tease you."

"oh, so i can tease you back?" you held the hand that was around your shoulders.

"not necessarily, but, i can give you something in return."

confused, you scrunched your eyebrows together and tilted your head. she pulled away from you with a laugh. after digging in her pockets, she pulled out a necklace that had a mini glass bottle hanging from it.

"it's uh, it's forever powder. mari and i found out about it while searching through old books. legend has it that whomever you give this concoction to, you swear your friendship and loyalty to them." she gestured to the necklace, silently asking if she could put it on you. you nodded. raya carefully took the necklace and wrapped it around your neck. she fixed your clothes to make sure the necklace was showing off.

"it looks like we both have a thing for gifting jewelry," you teased her. a grin spread across your lips. raya gave you a dry laugh. she wrapped her arm around your shoulders again.

"seems like."

FIN.

WC: 2,811

[that-glitter-chick]

Shit, ya’ll I think I have a Ship Kink that I only just realized 😅…🥰 Childhood friendship betrayed to adult enemies with massive amounts of chemistry and gay sexual tension.

[rainwalker-dragonblade29]

After the Spine fight, Raya explaining her six year journey and what all happened so far...

Raya: so when I didn't find Sisu in the boat I—

Tong: wait. So, you're telling me that you've stolen from Fang, bribed a kid, raided the Talon chief's house and now what's left? Plotting against Fang!?

Raya, nervous chuckle: .... ah well... it's not really plotting its—

Tong, shrugs: you don't have a very good legal record for a princess if you ask me.

Raya, snapping back: HEY! THOSE THINGS MAY BE ILLEGAL BUT I DID THEM LAWFULLY!

[vrfly]

the ratld rayaari fic i mentioned last week is now finished !!

thank u sm for letting me know u guys r interested in reading. it helped me crank out the finishing touches that i felt the story was missing when i first started writing it.

if you want to read the story, u can click HERE and it will take u directly to ao3. i hope u guys enjoy!!!!!

[shy-peacock]

This is so rayamaari energy that I can literally see both of them in both roles 🥰👏😩

[aricastmblr]

TBSCDTV X 4 dic. 2023

CDTVライブライブ

今夜も激アツLIVEをお届け♪ 本番直前ショットで実況中だよ📸

このあとは #BTS の #JUNGKOOK が ソロで初登場⚡️

世界チャートを席巻中！ 日本初披露となる 「Seven (feat. Latto)」 「Standing Next to You」の2曲を 特設ステージからフルサイズでお届け💖

CDTV

TBS

BTS_jp_official X 4 dic. 2023 [#今日のBTS] Seven days a week 🕺✨JUNG KOOKの音楽がずっとStanding Next To You🎶 今夜のTBS『CDTVライブ！ライブ！』を観てくれてありがとうございました！ ARMYのみなさん、おやすみなさい💜

#BTS#JungKook#JungKook_Golden#JungKook_Seven#StandingNextToYou#CDTVライブライブ

[ #BTS hoy] Siete días a la semana 🕺✨ La música de JUNG KOOK siempre estará Standing Next To You 🎶 El programa "CDTV Live! de TBS de esta noche ¡vivir! ¡Gracias por ver! Buenas noches ARMYs 💜

JUNGKOOK on CDTV Live - Entrevista

[isitbussinjanelle]

I dont ship Raya and Namaari….

I Titanic them.

HELP THIS IS NOT WHAT I WAS THINKING ABT BUT NOW I WANT A RAYAARI TITANIC AU

[ziggy-the-moon-man]

watching Raya and screaming "Ha, Gaaay!" in my head every few minutes.

[ruershrimo]

take me back (take me with you) | f. megumi x fem! reader | chapter 5: mess

ao3 link for additional author’s notes | playlist | prev | next | m.list

chapter synopsis:

'Sometimes they’re all you can think about.

It’s Megumi’s birthday today, and you’re awake just thinking about it. You ponder over whether you should see him, whether that would change anything.'

---

There is not one thing in your life, at this point, that's muddled up. You meet that doctor Megumi mentioned, though.

And Megumi himself, too.

word count: ~6k; tws: none for now,, but I do suggest that you read the author's notes on ao3 just because I explain why some of the things in the chapter are the way they are..

22-12-2017

Sometimes they’re all you can think about. 

You’d taken up your father’s offer about a month after he’d announced it, hugging your mother and promising her that you wouldn’t get hurt. She gave in, swallowed her words as if she was taking the baby girl she’d spent hours in labour with and sending her to war. 

It’s Megumi’s birthday today, and you’re awake just thinking about it. You ponder over whether you should see him, whether that would change anything. 

Tsumiki’s red hair tie sits on your desk like a treasure to watch over. You wear it every once in a while when you want to feel special— pretty, maybe, even if you may look a bit like a child. Either way, it’s your lucky charm, and you’re always wearing it or keeping it near where you are. 

You promised you’d be mature— that you’d be vulnerable and lay yourself bare, shredding your feelings off of you and fleshing them out, distancing yourself from the jejune cowardice you’d had. Somebody had to do it first, and if he didn’t want to, you’d be the one to do so. This was the most rational thing to do— if he didn’t want to listen to you either way, if he’d remain someone who hadn’t apologised to you, you wouldn’t need that type of person in your life any longer. 

And Tsumiki. You wonder if she’s okay, how she’s doing: is she sleeping well? Eating well? Enjoying her life? Smiling? Doing well in the student council? 

That fight ruined everything, and it was so horribly immature. 

If only you hadn’t said anything. If only you’d been softer, gentler like Tsumiki. But no, you shouldn’t have to recompense for Megumi’s lack of understanding. That was maturity. Right? 

Still, he shouldn’t have had to do the same for you. Both of you were so stupid. 

You clench your fists on your bed, your arm obscuring your vision as if blindfolding yourself and escaping from everything, whether it be from embarrassment or your adolescence-addled proclivity for overthinking interactions from a year ago or— whatever the hell it is, you don’t like it at all, and it’s complicated and jumbled and makes you want to cry, shout, curl into yourself and just go to sleep at the same time. 

It’s 12 am and you feel really, really stupid. You feel like scolding yourself for everything. 

Now you’ve made up your mind another time. Every time you think of him you’re back to square one, you think, and then you’ll resort back to the same conclusion: you won’t give him the satisfaction despite knowing how utterly stupid it is the way you’re going around things. 

When you go to Tokyo you’re not going to see Fushiguro Megumi. Even if that includes his sister. 

You just have to get over it. 

23-12-2017

It’s strange being in Tokyo without it having to do with Tsumiki and Megumi. 

“Do you think she’ll be okay?” you ask your father as you’re waiting for the train. The December air is cold, nipping at your nose and cheeks. You sniffle, your skin feeling a little numb. The last Christmas you had in Tokyo was half a lifetime ago and it still shocks you. That eight year old girl never really left your body, her remnants hidden in you like a ghost in a mansion. “...what if she gets sick or something? What if she needs help but she can’t make any emergency calls to anyone because her phone’s too far from her?” 

“Your mother will be just fine,” he says, and you feel so small in comparison to your father again because you can’t really tell what he’s feeling, can’t really tell what the expression on his face is supposed to mean— worlds away from you, too grown for you to fathom the multitudes of his feelings and life experiences while he can looks down and see you, witness how green you are and understand everything as if he’d lived that life itself, because he did, once. “And it was my decision to ask you. So whatever happens, it’s my fault and not yours. Don’t be worried.” 

He’s stressed now and it only makes you worry even more now. When he’s stressed he grows irritable, and no one is spared. 

“Okay.” 

24-12-2017 

Dr Ieiri Shoko is an interesting person. You recognise her from before— the pretty woman with the mole near her eye, present at Tsumiki’s birthday party all those years ago, with a penchant for smoking cigarettes and brown hair that had been short at that time. Her dark eye circles vaguely remind you of crescent moons in the midnight sky or crevices in the ground. 

The room where she works; her clinic, maybe, or where she’s confined to most of the time— is part of Jujutsu High. Their school compound itself had almost shocked you, the torii gates leading to it almost unending and all the buildings’ exteriors like an old city drowning with tin a teeming forest mixed with a subtle modernity. 

This room, you think, is one of the most miserable you’ve been in— the air stale with the pungence of rotting flesh, the lights garish and hostile, devoid of all colour except for blue: the sterile blue of the nitrile gloves, the dark blue of the shirt she wears under her lab coat and the pale shade of blue of her box of masks on her desk. 

“I never expected that Jujutsu High would be so big,” you remark as the three of you are getting ready for the battle and preparing other medical supplies, “It’s like a city.” 

By now, the sun would have already started to set, the force of time having opened the gateway to night. This room would have been one away from time, then; an entity separate from time’s laws in its unchangingness. 

“The school is our headquarters, after all,” she says, puffing out the smoke from her cigarette. It diffuses into the air and you try to hold in your breath before nearly choking, “You think they’ll start coming in anytime soon?” 

“Ieiri! I told you not to smoke in front of my daughter,” your father barges in, dragging someone behind him. The boy has a black uniform much like your father’s, except his is littered with slashes, his face bruised and bloody. 

You step forward. Dr Ieiri stops you. “It’s fine,” she whispers, “Let me.” 

“Sorry, old man,” she says, “Just felt nostalgic all of a sudden.” 

“Whether you smoke or not, I don’t care. But that’s my daughter!” 

“No, it’s fine—” you start, “I really don’t mind—” 

“Just help the student get on the examination table,” she states. 

Your father hauls him up on the table. He’s whimpering, holding some of his bruises, and wincing each time he touches it again by accident. 

The doctor eases her way to him. “Watch,” she orders, and you see the cursed energy in her hand manifest before holding it over him, and seeing how he heals instantly. 

“Woah.” 

“See?” she starts, “That’s reverse cursed technique.” 

“I— is it painless?”—it’s seamless, his healing process, and there’s not an ounce of pain on Dr Ieiri’s face— “How—” you scramble to turn back and look up at her, “How do I learn it?” 

She turns to your father. “You didn’t teach her about it?” 

“It’s not like I can do it,” he argues, a little wound up and a little angry, probably because of the stress, “The most I could tell her was what it was. At the rate she’s going with her cursed technique progress, I thought that if she got into something she could struggle with, like reverse cursed technique, she’d have trouble with it and would end up spending even more time on all of this. The wife doesn’t want her learning too much about all of this anyway.” 

“Ah, yeah, that sounds like her,” Shoko chuckles, “So— she’s learning everything quickly, huh?” 

“No— he’s just exaggerating.” 

“She likes to downplay her abilities.” 

“No I don’t,” you say. 

Your father raises his voice a little, “I thought we talked about this, [Name]—”

Dr Ieiri stops the two of you. “Hey, cut it out. I was about to teach her more about reverse cursed technique— you basically said she’s got potential, right?” Then she turns to the previously injured sorcerer. “Sorry about those two.” 

“Ah— so sorry about my daughter.” 

“...Sorry…” you bow. 

“You know what? You two bring her outside, I’ll have to check something here for a while. In private,” Dr Ieiri orders. 

When the sorcerer reassures you that she’ll be alright and promises to cause less trouble in the future, the two of you wave her off. 

“Why’d you have to be so self-deprecating?” your father turns to you. 

“I’m not being self-deprecating,” you argue, “It’s the truth. And it’s not like you are the same, so you don’t really have any right to judge.” 

“Okay, now— since when did you get so rebellious?” your father asks, frowning, “You used to be so sweet and obedient. Now it’s like you hate your parents.” 

“Wh— rebellious? No, I— god, it’s like the two of you say you hate me every time I disagree with something you say. Why can’t you just listen to me for a second—” 

His voice gets that bit lower and that bit louder, and now you’re a mouse before a cat, that chill running down your spine, even though you’ll try your best to shout back, “We just say these things because we know better. We have more life experience than you do. You know, if other people unlike Ieiri were to see us fighting like that they could take advantage of it.” 

“You’re starting to sound like her,” you retort. 

“Don’t talk about your mother like that.” 

“Why not? That’s how you talk about her. Makes no difference. And I can form my own opinions. I’m fifteen—” 

“Your mother and I are husband and wife. And you’re a child. Fifteen’s barely close to fifty,” he chides, “But I guess if you think you know everything, then that’s fine. You think you’re so grown-up now, so I guess you can form your own opinions like that.” 

“God, you sound immature—” 

“And you sound like and ungrateful child! You think this stuff doesn’t exist, that the world’s kind and we’re just miserable idiots making these things up to turn our kid into a miserable adult? These things happen. Nobody told these things to your mother and I, so if we tell you this you should appreciate it, right? But I don’t know what the problem is with you. You’re like her but worse. You say you’ll do these things but you don’t do them. You say you’ll be mature but you don’t end up that way. If we say you shouldn’t do something because it gets you hurt, whether in the heart or in the brain, you do it anyway like a fool. It all gets screwed up somewhere, you know, like your neural pathways don’t connect or something. In the end you don’t appreciate us at all, you think we’re out to get you, you think that you know everything under the sun and when we tell you things you’ll need when we’re off dying in a home for the elderly somewhere, you don’t listen to a single word from us—” 

“Well that’s because you don’t listen to me!” you sniffle. The tears will pour out soon and your lips are trembling because he’s actually right to a degree as much as you’d like to deny it. 

You hate this. You hate this so much. You hate your father’s words, how much they sound like your mother’s yet how much he uses them against her, you hate the heat on your face about to be caked with blotchy tears, you hate how much everything is out of your control and how hectic everything’s been. You just want to lock yourself in your room, curl into yourself on the mattress, and blindfold yourself with your arm or stare blankly at the garish ceiling light. 

“Stop crying, would you? Why’d you have to be so emotional? You really are like her, because you cry from everything. Makes no goddamn sense, honestly…” 

Well, you’re just like him, too. 

You just walk back. 

“Woah. Something happen?” Dr Ieiri questions, discarding a cigarette right after she sees you. 

Her eyes are puffy and a little swollen, you notice. But you’re not sure if they may be from tears like yours, or from a constant deprivation of sleep. Probably a combination of the two. Maybe. 

“Nothing happened, Ieiri,” he says, ‘It’s just that my daughter thinks she’s the smartest person in the world despite not using her brain at all. It’s fucking shocking how she thinks she knows better than her own parents do.” 

You should interrupt him, you want to, to just shut him up. You don’t and you’re seething with anger while each time you feel your nails digging into your palm you’re closer to crying than you have in the past eleven or twelve months. 

“Leave the family drama out of this,” she sighs, “There’ll probably be more people coming here. Get ready. You go out and get them first, you old man.” 

You don’t give your father a goodbye. You don’t want to give him the give in and lose the fight, even if any time he leaves you here may be the last time you see each other. 

He leaves the room, not saying a word to you either. 

Immature motherfucker. Literally. 

“Great. Now that that’s over with, I can finally talk to you,” she continues, rather casually. You know she probably has a clue that other people would skirt around the situation, that she should have more decorum towards such an issue or incident or something. Yet at the same time you can also confirm she’s the type who doesn’t really care. “Should’ve said this before he came back with that first girl. Now we’ve got to be extra fast.” 

“Huh?”

“I may need you as an apprentice, basically.” 

“Huh.” 

She reasons with you, “I’m not going to live forever, and I’m probably going to need another person who can heal people. You know who did what my job is now before I even came out of the womb?” 

“No?” 

“It was your dad— bet he never told you about that, huh? Bet you’ve never heard it from your mother, either. Said he was traumatised and all that. But it’s just a part of his past he doesn’t like talking about often.” 

“Oh… things must’ve been really bad, then… must be an explanation for why he’s like that as a person, huh…” 

She chuckles, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure they were. Still, I’ve heard that you like practising with your cursed technique although it hurts sometimes, but seeing as you’ve been learning things quickly from the way you only discovered your capabilities two years ago…” she continues, “Well, I mean, you seem like a good kid, too. A real hardworking, caring kid. Just a good, kind kid who I can leave this to. But not the type who’d be destroyed by the lack of those things in society. Our world needs people like that, I think. And right now more than ever. So, I thought you could give reversed cursed technique a shot, but I knew that if either your father or mother were here they’d shoot the idea down immediately. You’re their baby girl no matter what they say or no matter how they raised you could have screwed you up a little. They still love you even if they’re not perfect.” 

And you end up crying. Full-on bawling for reasons you’d be too childishly embarrassed to disclose. 

“Woah— there, there. You’ll be just fine, okay? But hey, give it a shot. I really think you could do well. But then you’d probably need the medical licence and all if you followed my path— I mean, back then, I guess in your dad’s time they were fine with him doing these things technically illegally, because there were less patients back then and less sorcerers got killed on the daily since the cures were weaker…” 

“No, no—” you sniffle, rubbing your eyes, “I mean, yes? I want— I want to be a doctor, actually. I’ve wanted to do something like that in the jujutsu world for a while. I just hadn’t gotten the chance to meet you.” 

“Great,” she twirls a strand of her hair, “Let’s start.” 

You can’t do it. 

You keep to your promises— you refrain from using cell manipulation, you don’t go anywhere near the fight— you just stand by and wait for when either of them will ask for something before you run and get it like some gopher. There’s a slight acridity to this: though it hadn’t been your full intent, you suppose that it would have been good to prove your mother wrong in some way, that you could do everything without hurting yourself (even though you definitely would, but if you could handle it and take it all, what would be going wrong, right?). But you refrain from doing it even if there’s nothing stopping you from disobeying her, because beyond still being frustrated with your father who keeps track of everything related to your progress with it— or just trying to prove something for him, something that says you’re not that much of a child anymore, that you’re a person stuck in a body yet to finish growing (to a certain degree, there’s veritable reason behind his words, but you’re just too childish and prideful to admit it and “forgive” him that easily)— there’s a part of you that still wants to listen to your mother every once in a while. Because maybe if you do, then everything will be alright. It’s easier to reduce yourself to a child again sometimes, you suppose. And sometimes you want things easier. 

Still, there’s a part of you that can’t help but feel useless right now. Cell manipulation is useful and versatile; it can kill just as much as it can heal, and it can heal just as much as the most injury-prone people can get injured. To help other people, you want to be able to help even at your own expense: to be used properly and utilised efficiently. So, if people can get injured, you’ll be doing as much as you can by using it to its full potential. 

As much as you want to help, though, a part of you thinks that even if they were to allow you to use cell manipulation, you would deny their offer anyway. 

You aren’t able to help with anything, and you’re not learning anything that you didn’t know before about cell manipulation. Even if this was supposed to be your chance to prove something and make some breakthrough. Something like that. 

“Want me to help with anything else?” 

“Nothing. Just watch.” 

You’d been watching by the sidelines for five hours. 

“If you’re bored, you could always leave,” your father states, cold and acerbic. 

“No— oh my god, stop. Stop assuming everything. Why do you have to be so emotional?” 

Dr Ieiri tilts her head up from the examining table and the arm of a student writhing in pain. “If the two of you fight again, I’m kicking both of you out. But [Name], I think you should watch. I mean, if you ever get tired or bored, though, you can walk through the campus yourself for a while. I think it should be fine. And you can meet some of the first-years right now, too. You’d probably like them a lot.” 

“Are you sure, doctor?” 

“Yeah, yeah— I don’t mind.” 

“Oh, so you’ll listen to a stranger instead of your father—”

“One more time,” Dr Ieiri repeats. 

“—And it’s over for today.” 

You leave the room, your blood boiling. It takes what modicum of anger control you have left to not slam the door in your father’s face. 

The hallways in the school seem normal, and the classrooms do, too, aside from the heady smell of wood and old books (scrolls?) rich and heady in the air due to everything from the floors to the walls having been made traditional style. It’s pleasant. The classrooms seem normal as well despite only having about three desks and chairs neatly stacked up together, with blackboards and alabaster chalk right beside them per room. There probably wouldn’t be much light: there aren’t any attached to the ceiling, so the only ways that sunlight could enter may be through the windows, which now have the orange sunset spilling through them like river water. It reminds you of something quietly forlorn, something that would be lonely and dark in the night, something that’s been abandoned. Still, there is life here— you can tell that from the occasional drawings on some of the boards, with the only dust on them being that of chalk and nothing else, and you suppose that’s the effect of having such little students in a high school so vastly large and indispensable to Jujutsu society. 

It seems as if Jujutsu High is a place of ghosts. But rather happy, comfortable ones, maybe. Content ones who went out satisfied and stayed because they decided the world during their lifetimes that the world was something they rather liked. 

As you’re exploring and about to head to one of the other classrooms, you meet someone—  a bespectacled girl, with dark green hair tied up in a ponytail and bangs swept to the side of her forehead, right next to her honey-hued eyes and precisely sharp, piercing eyelashes. You think that she’s awfully pretty. 

“Huh? Who’re you?” she goes, her voice loud and deep and bold, “You a new transfer student or something?” 

“No— uh, my father’s a sorcerer and he took me here, so now I’m walking around. He’s assisting the doctor in her room right now and they told me to go outside and see everything.” 

“Oh. Then are you gonna be a student here?” 

“Probably not? I don’t think I’m going anywhere. But I may visit? I don’t really know. I’m actually still in junior high, anyway.” You utter your name in a brief second, telling her she can just use your first name. 

“I’m Maki.” 

“Nice to meet you, Maki,” you smile. She smiles back like an older sister. 

“So, why’d he even bring you along if you’re not gonna go here?” 

“Oh. Well, uh, I’ve got a cursed technique that my father has too and he brought me here to kind of, um— learn about more stuff since I like using my cursed technique. But I don’t think I’ll become a sorcerer. Maybe a doctor, or something…” 

“So that’s why you were with that sleep-deprived woman,” she says, heading to lean against the walls’ windows before you do the same. 

You don’t know what to do next, but she seems pretty nice and there’s comfort in the fact that she’s a total stranger you probably won’t ever see again all that much. “Maki, can I ask you for some advice?” 

She quirks a brow. “Hm? Sure.” 

“…I’ve had a lot of things on my mind recently. And I’m at the point of my life where, I guess— my emotions are going wild and I’m arguing with my parents and all. But the most important thing right now, I think, is that I can’t get over somebody I knew. He was my old friend, but… not anymore.

“I used to be really close to him and his sister when we were kids before I moved away from Tokyo, but now we don’t ever talk since they never pick up the phone and I’ve given up on trying. Ah— saying it loud really makes me miss them. But we used to be close, and about a year ago when I went back to where they lived, he and I got into a… heated argument. Now we don’t talk anymore, and I’m not sure if he’s like that because of what I did, but his sister doesn’t either. And now, I don’t know what to do, because— I didn’t really have any friends before I met them, and even now I only have one other friend in my life besides them. So I’m a little lost,” you sniffle, though it feels like a weight has been lifted off of you and you can rest your stiff shoulders, “They were really important to me and I don’t know how to talk to them again, just to like, apologise and set things right, maybe—” 

“—What’s stopping you from just talking to them? You said that they weren’t replying, but you could always just send, like, a voicemail or a letter or an email. It honestly just seems like you’re too scared of just apologising. Just say it straight, out loud. There’s no need to go around it. At least you’ll be saying it, and you can put all that stuff to rest in your head. Then if they don’t ever say anything back, fuck them!” she grins crookedly, her teeth like the serrated zigzags on a special knife, wide and bright like the summer sun. Pure, well-meant advice. 

A part of what she says is what you’ve been thinking, really, but she’s right when she says it. Perhaps you just needed to hear it from a complete stranger. 

“I think you’re right, Maki,” you smile, “I’ll do it when I’m ready.” 

“Come on, there’s no time for when you’ll be ready for these sorts of things. You just have to… sort of push yourself. If you don’t, how long are you planning to wait? You’ll never be ‘ready’ enough.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, Maki.” 

“You’re welcome,” she says, the slightly cocky tone of her voice a perfect match with her smile. “Anyway, I’ve got to look for someone. I’ll see you around.” 

“Oh— well, thank you, Maki. I’ll see you around too.” 

She eases past you, an air of confidence in her, her back straight and chest protruding. “And [Name]? One more thing. 

“Good luck.” 

“Thanks.” 

25-12-2017

“Before you leave, here’s my phone number,” Dr Ieiri says. She snatches a cigarette out of her mouth and a pen from her pocket, and soon she palms the used cigarette, placing it on your hand. It’s burned on one end and has the stain of her lipstick on the other. 

When you leave it’s the first time you’ve stepped on that train without turning back and glancing at the platform. There’s nothing left to see, anyway. You hold your wrist as if holding the hair tie close to your heart, clinging to something with nothing left. 

26-12-2017 

The day the two of you come back, there’s an emptiness in the way your mother speaks, her eyes swollen and her skin dull. 

“How was the trip?” she asks as she’s cooking dinner. She doesn’t turn to face you. 

“It was good.” 

“I’m glad to know.” 

You walk over to her. “Are you upset?” 

No reply. 

“Mummy, I didn’t do anything. I just watched them work. Nothing bad happened to me, nothing bad will ever happen to me, I promise, I— Mummy?” 

Her knife slices through the vegetables like a machine in a factory. She transfers them into a bowl and mixes them in with beaten eggs. 

“I won’t become a Jujutsu sorcerer, I promise.” 

“I don’t want you doing anything related to that at all,” she mutters. 

“...you know I can’t do that. I’ve told you that I can’t.” 

“Then I’ll only stop this when you promise me to not to use it or get into that world and get yourself hurt again.” 

You reel back. “Mummy, if you’re going to be like that, then I’m not going to listen to you. I’m still going to do it and you can’t stop me.” 

“So that means you’ll be the one keeping me like this forever.” 

“...I guess it does.” 

“Is this how you’re repaying me for everything? For years I clothed you and fed you and— I had friends before I had you but I barely see them now, because my life and time has become something I only control based on the lives of you and your father. You think I wanted that?” she turns to you, “You think I wanted a life where I was either cooking or cleaning or caring for a daughter who brought sickness and harm onto herself and caused trouble for everyone?” 

It’s not like you even care what happens to you. It’s not like they have to care about whatever happens to you. If you get sick or get injured or die, then so what? You don’t matter nearly enough compared to the people you could help if you didn’t. “You can’t say that right now. I’ve been trying to repay you for what you’ve done, but— it doesn’t mean that I have to go back on my own commitments. I’m my own person—” 

“I’m not saying you aren’t. But you’re also my daughter. You should be listening to me, still, since you’re only— what— fifteen?” 

“Daddy said the same thing— why can’t the two of you just listen to me? It wasn’t like this in the past. Even when I was little you listened to me.” 

“We’re not the ones who’ve changed, [Name]. It was all you.” 

“You’re infuriating. I can’t stand you. The both of you.” 

“Of course, you’d be the one saying that.” 

28-2-2018

Your mother gets admitted to the hospital at the end of February. 

“It’s cancer,” your father says. 

Now you can no longer recall a time when you laughed and smiled alongside your parents. It must have just been that long of a time since then, you suppose. 

You’re crying as you see her sleeping figure— you see what you used to be terrified of, your mother, your dearest mother, slipping away from you with weak limbs and eyes in that hospital bed. The last time she was in one it had been the day you were born and that only makes you sob even more, until your eyes feel as if they’re bleeding, and all you can feel tugging at your chest is regret, but not quite that either. Regret that you never made the effort to spend time with her, to get her to understand you— you were the child, but since your parents had not been able to quell whatever they’d faced in the past, you were supposed to be the one reaching out to them and helping them heal from that since the start of it all. It was supposed to be your responsibility— one that you kept denying, one that you failed to do, one that you hadn’t been useful for even though that had been all you wanted to be in life. 

Your father and you barely exchange words after that. 

17-6-2018 

You ended up choosing to go to the same school as Yuuji even though there’d been ‘better’ schools willing to take you in. He told you the two of you could stick together like before despite being in different schools, yet you insisted on staying by his side. 

Partly for a different reason, though. The first time you’d stepped foot in the school there was an aura of cursed energy thick in the air, a nauseating sensation that almost suffocated you like fabric over your mouth and nose. You decided you’d stay there and prevent anything wrong from happening. This year would be a year of clear-cut decisions and surety, you’d told yourself. You would have to be decisive this time instead of overthinking things in your bed late at night anymore. 

“Staying with the literature club today?” he asks, “You know, you’re always welcome to the occult club next time.” 

“Yeah, but I like the literature club, anyway. Enjoy yourself there, okay?” you swat him playfully on the back, “Bye.” 

“Bye!” 

The literature club provides a respite, you suppose, from the stress in your life— not like you’re dealing with that stressful of a life, but everything else seems muddled up when you’re at home or with Yuuji, as much as you enjoy your time with him. There, it’s quiet and civil and professional. You barely know the names of anyone there, and even though literature includes discussing different viewpoints and— in theory— getting to know each other, you’re grateful for the group leader’s incompetency in leadership, and that it just becomes one long reading session for everyone after he’s given up on starting conversations and productive discussions with his fellow club members. 

“...it seems like you’re reading another classic today. Do you like classics?” he asks you. 

“Uh… yes?” you whisper back, “And books on biology and dogs, I guess.” Sometimes it hurts to say the latter when you’re reminded of what it means. 

“So… what other classics do you like to read, [Name]?” 

Why’s he using your first name? You barely know him. 

“Uhm…” You turn back to what’s behind you. Despite how far it is, you can notice it— that pink hair, that yellow hoodie. It seems as if one of the PE teachers is there, and a crowd has formed around them. “Oh… wait! Look! There’s something going down there! I’m so sorry, I’ve got to go down and see it, it seems like they’re doing, um—” You turn back again, your feet ready to speed away and run off— “—They’re doing the shot put! I’m sorry, I’ve to see! I think my friend’s there.” 

By the time you’re down, you’re panting and looking onwards, wedging yourself into the jostling crowd of people. 

The ball probably beat the world record. You’re not sure, though. 

You cheer along with everyone else. Yuuji is wonderful. So wonderful, and pure, and kind and strong and good— 

It’s like that ache is pricking at your chest again. 

You’ll live, though. Eventually. Eventually all of this will have been over with. 

He walks over to Sasaki and Iguchi, relaxed and confident in his posture as always. “Hey, [Name]!” he shouts, waving at you. 

You head over to the three. 

“Left early today?” 

“Yeah.” 

There it is, that aura again— but it feels a bit stronger now. 

You’ll check later. 

“You’d do well on a sports team, Itadori,” Sasaki comments, her hand on her waist, “Don’t force yourself to stay in our occult club.” 

“Huh? Really? But even though you love scary stuff, without me you could never go to haunted places!” 

“But we like being scared,” she pouts. 

“School rules say that I have to be in some club,” he says, slightly cocking his head to the side, “And I could never keep this up.” With his thumb he points at the awed students behind him taking pictures of his shot with stars in their eyes. 

For a moment, you turn behind, and there he is. 

Fushiguro Megumi. 

The person who you supposed was the first you ever loved. The person who became one of your closest friends. The person who argued with and abandoned you. 

He stops in his tracks. 

“Sorry, guys, I’ve got to excuse myself for a bit,” you tell them, speeding over your words a little. 

“Oh, no— don’t worry about it!” Sasaki says. 

You dash as fast as you can— which would probably have got you a measly 10th place in a race with twelve year old kids, but still— grabbing his wrist like a pickpocket swiping someone’s credit card or wallet, before pulling him over to the side of the crowd where there are less people.

You’re seething, almost, or at least you’d like to be. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” you ask. 

“You’re asking me that? What are you doing here? Can’t you feel the cursed energy here?” 

“Yeah— no shit, Sherlock! That’s why I enrolled myself into this school! But you— called you so many times, you never picked up, and now you’re showing up at my school like this, frowning like some kind of anime-bad-boy-with-daddy-issues cosplayer in casual clothing— do you know how frustrating it is to try to keep whatever ‘relationship’ we all have left?” 

He sighs. 

“Oh, you’re sighing? God, you’re insufferable— you know, there are so many things I have to say to you right now and I will make you fucking listen, Megumi—” 

“Okay, I’m sorry. Just listen. Too many things happened and since you’re here I think I may need your help.” 

You let out a large, nearly over exaggerated exhale. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” 

Itadori runs past you. “Bye, [Name]! I’m gonna go see grandpa!” 

“Bye! Stay safe!” you tell him. 

And now you feel it— the surge of cursed energy from just Yuuji. 

“His backpack! It’s in his backpack!” you whisper, “He’s in the occult club, the cursed object is probably in his backpack!” 

He turns back. 

“...you’re still holding my wrist, by the way.” 

“Tt– oh, shut up, it’s not like you can’t handle it,” you say, pausing, then taking it back and retracting your hand. “Sorry. I’ll take it off if it makes you uncomfortable, ah… I’m just… very frustrated and confused. Everything’s been muddled up recently, just because a lot has happened in the past year, uhm… sorry. I should probably stop exploding on everyone like this.” 

“It’s fine. …everything’s fine,” he says, pulling your hand back hesitantly. His eyes stay away from you evasively. Acting innocent, as if he isn’t doing anything at all. 

“[Name], do you want him to stay alive?” 

“I— yeah, of course? And he’s my best friend, so… of course.” 

“Then at least we know what we have to do now.” 

“I guess we do.” 

“Whatever it is, we’ll talk about it later,” he promises, “I… have a lot to say to you too.” 

“Okay.” 

You lead him, pulling him forward by the wrist to the hospital as the sun begins to set. 

The year of 2010. Two children still in smaller worlds, watching shows and reading books and eating cake. Sticky summer days with cold water splashed at each other, a spring spent with his sister and braiding each others’ hair, an autumn with dog books and stepping on rustling, crunching leaves, a winter with fried chicken and bunched up coats and warming each others’ fingers. 

Nostalgia. 

You want him to take you back to those days. 

Years ago, in a city you no longer live in, he’d done the same. He’d held you by the wrist, pulled you gently as the two of you walked to his home. 

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[comphy-and-cozy]

down bad - mat barzal

Pairing: Mat Barzal x unnamed OFC

Summary: Mat takes a late night booty call to the next level.

Word Count: 5.2K

Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY): Unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), creampie. Mega simp Mat. This has barely any plot but has potential to expand into a universe, maybe? Masterlist

The Snapchat notification brightens the screen for a few moments, catching Mat’s eye even while he focuses on shooting down his opponent on-screen. Beau shouts a warning in his ear, and Mat emits a low curse when he gets sniped from behind. 

After one more round, and after bidding goodbye to his friend, Mat’s attention draws back to his phone sitting on the table beside him, tapping to see who the Snapchat was from. His jaw pulses, just slightly, when he sees the name attached to the notification. Instinctually, he feels a gentle throb below the waistband of his gray sweatpants, just at the mere sight of her name.

The photo isn’t set to a timer, and Mat sends a silent thank you to the higher powers that he gets to gaze at it for as long as he desires. The foggy mirror is what he notices first, eyes quickly drawing to the generous cleavage exposed underneath the loosely-wrapped towel, a sliver of delicious skin dragging his eyes down to where the countertop regrettably cuts off the view he would have—of hip bones, leading his eyes down to the apex of two thighs he desperately wants to splay open.

There’s no caption, no commentary needed; the message is loud and clear. A calling that he responds to without fail despite his every effort to remain the nonchalant, professional athlete playboy. Obedient and eager, it’s almost Pavlovian the way his senses kick into gear when her messages come through.

Some might call him whipped, but he prefers the term ‘infatuated.’ He has been, ever since he got that first mirror selfie showing off generous curves clad in Calvin Klein underwear. He’d never admit it outside of the privacy of messages that disappear in 24 hours, but he had never come as hard as he did that night, hand gripping his length while his mind was flooded with images of that body, of those gorgeous lips, of the hips that looked like they were made for his hands.

Mat swipes through the photos he’s saved from her texts, for his eyes only. They’re more private, more sacred; selfies in bathroom mirrors with her top pulled down, videos showing a few specific details of her slutty nurse Halloween costume, and his favorite: his girl, perched on the edge of her bed, a Barzal jersey bunched up around her hips and revealing a gratuitous shot of her ass in a deep blue thong. 

When he first matched with her on Raya, he never anticipated that he’d meet up with her, let alone see her multiple times after that.  A free night in Chicago before a game, he was lying in the hotel room bed in search of his evening plans, in need of a good release. It was her eyes that drew him in first; the same eyes he stared into while she took him in her mouth later that evening. After finding heaven between her legs and climaxing so hard he saw stars, he told her he’d call her the next time he was in Chicago—and he meant it.

Since then, he returns dutifully to her bed when the Isles come to town, and he leaves the door unlocked for her when she travels to New York City for client visits as a CPA (hot and smart; a lethal combination). It’s become an excellent arrangement, the distance far enough to keep things casual, though on nights like tonight, when all he wants is to be buried inside her, he really wishes she was much closer. 

Mat’s attention snaps back to his phone when he sees another notification come through with her name on it, and this time, the dark purple square has his heart fluttering. Clicking into the video, his heart leaps into his throat when he sees the same shot as earlier, only this time, she lets her hand slip so the white towel sags against her body. He’s practically panting, eyes glued to the way she teases him, until she drops the towel altogether.

He’s hard in an instant, flipping back to his Snapchat app to send a photo back of his sweatpant-covered erection.

‘Wish you were here,’ comes her reply. ‘In the mood to get railed.’

Swallowing thickly, Mat feels the twitch against his pelvis. He lets his mind draw back to the last time he saw her; thinking about the feeling of her perfect, wet heat gripping onto him, the way she moaned his name in his ear. He hadn’t gotten more than a few hours with her, hadn’t spent enough time buried between her thighs and worshiping her the way she deserved. The way he craved to. Now, with his last trip to Chicago complete and tax season in the books, he doesn’t know the next time he’ll see her—this fall, at the earliest.

The thought flits through his mind out of nowhere. He considers it for a millisecond, then with a blink, laughs it off. Fly to see her? Tonight?

No, that would be wild, though. It’d be insane.

But you have an off-day tomorrow. You could be back before anyone would notice you’re gone.

Mat shakes his head, pushing away the impulse. He opens his phone, hoping to distract himself by scrolling on Instagram. But the thought doesn’t go away; instead, it patiently nudges at the corner of his brain, lingering until he grants it his full attention. His dick twitches again, as if it knows he’s only a few steps removed from being inside her.

A glance at the airline app can’t hurt, he thinks. Just to see if it’s even a realistic possibility.

He isn’t sure what he’s hoping to see when he opens the Delta app—the perfect timed flight, or a flight that doesn’t work with his schedule. A quick search confirms the former, and he can’t help but laugh out loud at the situation he’s found himself in. Mat shakes his head, the reality of his decision sinking in: are you really about to do this?

He texts her, hoping the distinction of message type symbolizes that he’s serious. The response comes a few minutes later, and he lets out an audible groan when he sees that she’s naked, an arm draped across her breasts seductively. The caption comes next: ‘This is what’s waiting for you if you do decide to come.’

Twenty minutes later, he’s pulling on a baseball cap as he shuts and locks his apartment door, small duffel bag in hand.

Once the Uber drops him off, he briefly notes that it’s strange to be using the public entrance, used to the special business aviation sector that the team used for travel. He could’ve taken a private jet, if he really wanted, but purchasing a commercial ticket was both quicker and easier. And much, much less embarrassing.

He’s halfway through the security line when the reality of what he’s about to do hits him, and he can’t help but laugh at himself. Purchasing and boarding a flight within an hour—for a booty call. Talk about impulsive. And desperate.

The question of ‘why?’ briefly flits through his mind, contemplating his life choices. But then his mind trails to those gorgeous lips, pressed against his mouth, his neck, his—

“Sir, may I please have your ID?”

Mat blinks, coming back to reality, embarrassed that he let his imagination run wild in the middle of the fucking airport. As he pulls his wallet out of his pocket, he does his best to subtly adjust the half-hard erection threatening to make an appearance, smiling innocently at the TSA agent.

If he’s recognized by anyone, no one says anything, though he keeps his head down as he finds his way to his gate. ‘Chicago’ lines the monitor, the flight number and departure times floating across the bottom of the screen. Her last text buzzes in his pocket once he takes a seat, duffel bag seated on the floor by his feet.

The text is actually a photo that has him slapping the face of his phone against his leg, glancing around to make sure no one near him is in sight of his screen. Once he’s sure he’s in safe territory, he sneaks a glance at it again, thirsty for another peek of her completely nude body, a sizable pink dildo pressed against her pouty lips.

Hurry up, the message reads. I’m getting impatient.

Mat hopes nobody notices the way he twitches beneath the dark fabric of his joggers, willing his erection to chill the fuck out as he gets in line to board the plane. 

When he lands 3 hours later, Mat’s knee bounces anxiously as he glances out to watch the plane make its way down the tarmac. A quick check on his Maps app tells him he isn’t far from her apartment, and he sends a silent prayer that he can get deplaned quickly. 

Waiting is excruciating, and he already has the Uber app loaded as he exits the plane, a ride called by the time he steps off of the jet bridge. Mat’s footsteps quicken when he sees the signs pointing toward baggage claim, and it isn’t long until he’s getting into a red Toyota Camry, his driver, Todd, greeting him from the front seat.

‘The door is unlocked,’ her text read. ‘I’m in the bedroom.’

The lights are off when he enters, though the light over the sink illuminates the small kitchen just enough for him to toe his shoes off and head toward the bedroom door. Mat’s heart thuds in his chest as he nears it, nears her, fingers itching to caress every inch of her body. His dick gives another wanton pulse, like it knows its wait is almost over. 

What he sees when he opens the door has him speechless—and that’s hard to do to Mat Barzal. 

The room is dark save for the small string of fairy lights by her window and a sandalwood candle burning on the bedside table. Flickering candlelight casts a warm glow over the room, dancing on the panoramic photo of Wrigley Field on the wall across from her bed.

But Mat isn’t looking at any of that. 

Instead, his eyes are locked on his girl, lying on the bed, gazing straight at him. She’s completely naked, save for the very sheer black lace kimono, untied in the front, revealing her bareness to him entirely. Her legs are spread in a way that he has the perfect view. The warmth of the candle makes her skin look like it’s glowing, soft and golden and delicious.

This time, his dick doesn’t just twitch. It throbs. 

He thinks he might’ve let out a whimper, dropping his bag on the floor; his body moves of its own accord, approaching her bed and immediately slotting between her legs. His lips are on hers before he even realizes it, unable to deny the yearning to feel her touch any longer.

“Hi,” he murmurs against her mouth. She giggles, lips curling into a smile against his own. “Missed you.”

Her reply is a hum, hands carding through his hair, hat knocked on the floor. His lips suck, lick, and nip their way over her jaw and to the place he can feel her pulse against his lips. Mat likes the way she shivers when his breath skitters over her skin, body shuddering at the sensation. 

“Can’t believe you’re actually here,” she breathes, drawing his lips back up to hers for a heated kiss. The pressure mounts, his tongue desperately seeking out the seam of her mouth; involuntarily, his hips begin a slow grind, pressed right against her bare heat. There’s no hiding or denying his own rigid erection, groaning at the feeling of finally getting some friction after hours of waiting.

“Had to have you,” he whispers back. “Teasin’ me with those pictures like that.”

She moans when his mouth makes a sloppy, wet path from her jaw, down her neck, over her collarbones, landing on her breast. Mat licks and sucks every inch of skin he touches, drinking in the taste of her nipple between his lips. “Makin’ me so hard with these tits.”

“Just wanted to see if you were really whipped enough to fly here,” she purrs, raking her hand over his scalp when he takes her hardened peak between his teeth, biting down. His cheeks warm, embarrassed at the attention to just how desperate he is for her.

But he can’t deny it, so he doesn’t. Instead, he allows himself to indulge in her body, thinking that he might as well live up to his newfound title. 

“Need this pussy like I need water, baby,” he says with a sleek grin, letting his hand drift between her thighs, hissing with delight when he finds her drenched.  She rolls her eyes at the exaggerated comment, though she can’t ignore the flutter in her belly at his carnal need for her.

Her mouth opens to quip back, and he revels in the way a gasp usurps whatever sass she was about to deliver when he plunges a finger into her tight heat. She grips his digits snugly, squeezing him so tightly he wonders how he’s gonna fit another finger in, let alone his dick. The appendage gives another wanton throb.

The lemony jasmine of her shampoo invades his senses as his hand continues to pump, working his girl into a slow, maddening frenzy. Her back arches upward, kimono falling open so she’s all but bare to him. The slope of her breasts, curve of her waist, soft breath of her whimper draw him into her, pulling him into her trance.

Mat can tell by the high pitch in her whine that she’s bordering on desperate for something more. Slipping in another finger, he smirks against her lips when he hears the audible squelch of his digits pressing into her drenched center. The sound has his mouth watering, suddenly quenched of thirst. 

Gripping the plush, soft skin of her thighs, Mat pries her legs open—“jus’ a little more for me, sweetheart”—to make room for his broad shoulders before shifting his body down until he’s at eye-level with her waiting, wanting core. He doesn’t wait for her whimper before he’s pressing his face against her, moaning when his tongue tastes her slick. 

His girl is divine, her pussy a certain, secret entrance to the pearly gates. Each lap of his tongue isn’t nearly enough to curb his addiction, the craving never satiated. Her fingers twist into the long locks of his hair, tugging and pulling him exactly where she needs him; he’s pliant, moldable, eager to please. He’d devour her cunt whole, if he could. 

Unabashed moans encourage Mat to allow his fingers to rejoin his tongue, teasing the swollen nub at the apex of her gorgeous, heavenly slit. He drinks in her nectar like it’s the elixir of life, greedy and indulgent. The soft moans that he coaxes from her throat are just an added bonus.

He’s precise, paying close attention to the way she reacts to each flick of his tongue, each twist of his fingers. Between the choked gasps slipping from her pretty lips and the way her thighs tighten around his head, he knows he’s close—that she’s close. 

Another long, languid suck of her clit sends her hurtling into orgasm, spine arching off of the mattress. Mat’s hand rests firmly on her hip, holding her in place even despite the way her body writhes with the force of her release; he savors the taste of her flooding his mouth. 

Mat loses track of how many times he makes her come, flooding his mouth with her nectar. Three? Four? Five? His jaw aches, his mouth, chin and cheeks glistening with evidence of her arousal like he’s at a fucking all-you-can-eat buffet. He wishes Lou would let him grow a beard so he could taste her on his face for hours.

“Matty,” she sighs, and he can hear in her voice that she’s done with the foreplay. Her hands weakly tug at the cotton of his t-shirt in an attempt to draw him up to her. He obeys, pressing his mouth to her lips, letting her taste herself on his tongue; as he does, the clothed tip of his erection bumps against her open, waiting center, and she whines.

“I know, baby,” he coos, massaging the inside of her thigh with a large hand. She’s practically putty underneath his touch. “Wanna fuck you so bad I think my dick might fall off.”

“Too many clothes,” she says, voice still distant and hazy from her orgasms. Mat feels a smug sense of satisfaction at the way she weakly paws at his clothes, fingers searching for purchase in the cotton of his t-shirt. She’s right, though, and he wrenches his body from hers in favor of pulling his shirt over his head.

Heat floods her eyes and Mat watches the way her gaze falls to the cut lines of his muscle, shamelessly running over the abs and the biceps he’s worked so hard on. He’d be lying if he didn’t think of her—think of this—on the early mornings he dreaded getting out of bed to workout; the thought of her lips, her hips, her body never failing to encourage him to do one more rep. Mat knows his role, his duty, as the professional athlete: maintain the god-like physique that has her all but drooling.

And when she looks at him like that, how is he supposed to deny it?

Mat shimmies his pants off, palming his aching erection through his boxer briefs. His girl’s hand reaches up to aid him, the thin material barely a barrier between her skin and his, and he can’t help but groan at the contact.

“How long have you had this?” she purrs, stroking him leisurely. He can hardly process her words and she’s barely touched him.

“Since—fuck—since you sent me that picture.” His voice is more of a choked whisper, breath hitching in his throat when she offers him an affectionate squeeze.

“But that was hours ago, Matty,” she says, but the evil glint in her eye tells him that she isn’t really feeling sympathy for him; instead, there’s smug pride hidden behind a coy smile. “You must be desperate.”

All Mat can do is hum in response, every nerve on heightened alert as her hand drags slow, languid lines up and down his length. He knows if he opens his mouth, only nonsensical gibberish is going to come out and probably ruin the moment.

“Desperate enough to fly from Long Island to Chicago just to fuck me,” she continues musing. “I’m flattered.”

Pulling himself together—eyes closing when she gives him a squeeze—Mat steels himself to say, “Best pussy I’ve ever had. ‘Course I’m desperate for you.”

“Aww, Matty,” she says with a wry, teasing smile. “You have such a way with words.”

Impatience huffs out of Mat’s lips, doing his best to suppress a whine and a plea to please, grant him some relief. “Let me fuck you, baby.”

Her fingers dip into the waistband of his boxer briefs, tugging it down before he’s hurriedly shucking the material down his hips. “You gonna be polite?”

“Please,” he tacks on, pressing himself forward to connect his lips with hers, needing something—anything—to take the edge off. “Please, baby, swear I’ll fuck you so good.”

His girl hums, returning his kiss, letting his tongue slide into her mouth; symbolic in its action as he teases, dragging the muscle in and out in intentional, suggestive motions. He shifts his approach, letting his voice take on the sickly sweet, honeyed purr that she loves. “Know you want it, sweet girl. Bet you’re jus’ drippin’ for it, aren’t you?”

“Why don’t you find out?”

If Mat had a single ounce of resistance left in him, he’d tease her back, but he can’t draw out his own torture any longer. He lets his hand trail down her body, meeting her own that’s wrapped around his hard, bare length. His fingers brush against her, placing themselves over her hand before guiding himself toward the apex of her thighs. She smiles against his mouth, exhaling softly as his tip broaches her entrance.

“Think I can hear her purring for me,” he says, pressing his hips forward to plunge into her with a groan. A gasp leaves her mouth, hands quickly finding purchase in the dips of his shoulders. The feeling of her walls gripping him tightly nearly makes his eyes roll back in his head.

There isn’t a whisper of a retort on her tongue, his quick-witted girl rendered speechless with him sheathed inside her. As much as he loves her quick wit and feisty attitude, he can’t deny that it’s extremely satisfying to be the one to shut her up. 

For awhile, he’s content to simply stay that way, feeling the way her walls flutter around him, her body silently begging for more. But then she remembers how to speak, saying, “Mat, fuck me.”

It takes a moment to ensure he isn’t going to completely ruin everything by finishing immediately, but once he does, he lets his hips tick forward, then back, then forward again. He works the pace up to one that earns a lusty gasp in his ear, arms holding himself above her, silver chain dangling between his neck and her chin. 

“Squeezin’ onto me like your life depends on it, baby,” he grunts. “Fuck, this cunt is so worth the 3 hour flight. Would charter a private jet just to have it in my bed every single night.”

She hums, responding by wrapping her legs around his waist, welcoming him deeper. “Better make the most of it then, Barzal.”

And, well, when she puts it like that.

Mat fucks her slow, fucks her fast, doing his best to remember everything he’s thought about doing to her since he kissed her goodbye when he slipped out of her apartment two months ago. His voice is low in her ear, filthy words strung together between nips at her neck and sloppy, heated kisses against her mouth. She feels so fucking good, and he makes sure to tell her that—communication has always been one of his stronger points.

He presses his hips firmly against the backs of her thighs, burying himself as deep as he can go. His hands wander freely, one making a path between her neck and her breast, the other languidly trailing along the slope of her ass.

Her ass. Of course.

Lost in the euphoria of seeing her, touching her, tasting her, he’d almost forgotten about his very favorite body part of hers—the one he thought about on nights where he missed her, furiously fisting his length, that never failed to bring him to orgasm. Slowing his hand’s movements, he matches his smooth strokes to the tempo of his fingers kneading the globes of her ass. 

She loves it. He can tell in the way her hips roll, grinding herself against him, a feral-sounding moan coming from deep in her throat. Mat can practically feel the orgasm building inside of her, keeping his movements careful and precise, unwilling to change a single thing; he can’t tame the desire to feel her come around him.

“Matty,” she whimpers, a hand slipping between their bodies to rub at her clit. His eyes glance down to the movement, cursing lowly at the sight. “M’close.”

“Yeah, baby? You gonna come for me? Come on my cock after I flew all this way just to fuck you?”

If she tries to answer, nothing comes out other than another moan. Her eyes squeeze shut, and he imagines the fireworks that will soon dance beneath her eyelids. Fingers stroke at her soft skin, almost as if he’s willing her orgasm into existence. He lowers his voice to murmur, “I’ve been dreaming about feeling you come all over me for weeks, baby. It’s the least you can do.”

When she reaches the precipice, her body freezes beneath him, time standing still for a millisecond as she shatters. He can almost feel the way it courses through her, the way her pussy clamps onto him so tightly he sees stars of his own. 

It’s glorious. Sinfully, decadently, maddeningly exquisite. 

Mat’s patient with her comedown, whispering soft words of encouragement, hips resuming a gentle motion that probes her sensitive core. She whines, pawing at his shoulder to push him away. Her voice is gentle, a soft command. “Matty.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says with a cheeky smile. “Y’feel too good.”

He’s aware, though, wants to give her a moment of reprieve before he bends her over the way he wants to. So, he suppresses a huff as he pulls out of her delicious heat, distracting himself from the loss by kissing her hotly. She seems distracted, too, sighing into his mouth, enjoying the way it feels like he’s devouring her whole.

“Wanna fuck you from behind,” he murmurs against her lips. “Watch this ass bounce on me.”

Mat helps her up, allowing her to tear her lips away from his in favor of flipping over. Once she’s settled on her hands and knees, the mattress dipping slightly beneath her weight, he takes a moment to admire the view: pussy glistening with the remnants of her orgasm, framed by the globes of her perfect ass. Heaven. 

“Gotta be inside you,” he says, a statement that’s more like a declaration.

“Quit making me wait.”

His eyebrow raises. “Thought we were being polite.”

“You are. I can be whatever I want,” she shoots back with a smile. His dick gives another mild twitch.

Mat hums. “Guess I better give the lady what she wants, then.”

Judging by the way she’s backing up to meet him, he assumes she’s had plenty of reload time and slips back into her. This time, he doesn’t take his time to ramp up, instead setting a grueling pace from the start, his hands gripping tightly onto her hips. 

A groan, followed by a loud curse. “Think about this every damn day. You, taking it from behind like this. Bent over jus’ for me.”

Her reply is to lean forward farther, spreading her arms forward onto the mattress and opening herself to him even more. Mat accepts the invitation to drive deeply into her, hips slapping loudly against the back of her thighs. The thought of her neighbors briefly flits through his mind, but another glance back down at her ass has that consideration slipping away as quickly as it came. He doesn’t care who hears or who he wakes up; hell, he’d be fine telling the entire world that he gets to fuck her.

“Since you came all this way, you deserve a treat,” she says, twisting her head to glance over her shoulder at him. The sight of her peachy, round ass and her bedroom eyes looking up at him makes his balls tighten.

“And what might that be?” Mat accentuates the question by squeezing her hips tightly. He swallows down the comment that this, here, being inside of her, is already reward enough.

“I’ll let you come inside.”

Since their trysts began, she’s made Mat relieve himself elsewhere—her chest, her ass, her face; his mind briefly flits to each, reminiscing on the mental snapshot he took each time. The thought of not just not having to pull out moments before the strongest climaxes of his life, but at the idea of finishing inside of her is enough to have his heart pulsing rapidly in his chest. 

“Yeah? You want me to fill you up?” he says with a grin, leaning forward to brush his lips against her ear. The action presses him even deeper inside of her, his hips snug against the curve of her ass as he whispers, “Fuck my load deep inside this perfect little cunt?”

She nods, mouth opening in a silent gasp when he gives a particularly hard thrust. “Yeah. Wanna feel you, Matty.”

Her eyes shoot open when he pauses his movements, glancing back at him in protest when he pulls away. Both hands pull lightly on her hips, encouraging her to flip over onto her back. When she does, her eyes catch his and he smiles. 

“Wanna see your face when I come,” he says with a shrug, easing himself back into her waiting core. 

“Oh, he’s down bad.”

He laughs, face crinkling into a smile despite the way the burn of euphoria builds in his stomach. A hand drags down the outside of her leg, tucking her calf around his hip. “Fuck off.”

“Are you gonna come in me or not?”

“You begging for it?” 

The four words dramatically change the mood; Mat watches her eyes darken as they sink in. Like he gave a secret code to have her submissive and pliant beneath him. Her voice is barely above a whisper, her lips pouty. “Please, Matty.”

Mat slows his hips, savoring the way her pussy sucks him in, greedy. He can’t help the grin that curls up on his face, watching the way her eyebrows knit together. “You’re gonna have to do better than that, sweetheart.”

“Please, baby,” she whines, “wanna feel you come in me. I—I need it.”

He hums. “Been dreaming about filling this tight pussy up for months, baby. Wanna watch my cum drip out of this slutty little cunt.”

“Please,” is her whispered plea—quiet and desperate.

“You sound so pretty when you beg,” he says with a smirk. The pace of his hips increase, balls tightening with the threat of his climax. He listens to her moans, the sound of his skin against hers, the rustle of the sheets beneath his knees. His girl’s hands tighten around his shoulders, holding onto him as she absorbs the weight of his thrusts, body shifting up and down on the mattress. 

Mumbles of her name, of obscenities, flow out of his mouth, low murmurs in her ear. His rhythm starts to falter, no longer a steady metronome but a series of sloppy, uneven thrusts as Mat finds it harder and harder to stay focused. 

The release starts deep in his core, bursting through with a loud groan as he finally meets his end, reveling in the feeling of spilling inside of her. It’s freeing to have no barriers between him and her, to feel her in all of her pure, whole self, the way she contracts tightly around him as her own final climax barrels through her. Mat’s vision goes fuzzy, and for a moment he’s pretty sure his soul ascends out of his body.

It occurs to Mat that he’s slumped on top of her, panting into the crook of her neck while soft, small hands trace lazy lines up and down his spine. The touch ignites his nerve endings, sending another wave of consciousness through his system. Her nails drag delicious, soothing lines onto his scalp, and he feels his throat vibrate against her collarbone in a moan. His vision gradually grows from fuzzy to just a bit of a haze when he peels his eyes open.

“Baby, that was the—”

“Hardest you’ve ever come?”

Mat blinks, fully back in reality now, shifting his head to look at her in disbelief. “How did you know?”

She chuckles, lips brushing against his ear. “You said that last time, too.”

[finemealprompt]

DP x DC Prompt #12

Dick was used to being teased about having a thing for red heads. If you look at his romantic relationships, it would support that conclusion. Raya, Cheyenne, Starfire, Barbara, not to mention the men he's dated.

But he swears he's not interested in Jasmine Fenton just because she's a red head! She's really smart, she works in child services, and she is never bothered when he has to suddenly leave. She's truly amazing.

Perhaps he should've found it suspicious she wasn't bothered when he had to run off suddenly. But he was just so grateful to find someone who had seemingly unending patience.

When she came to his apartment with a bloodied teen, he realized there was more to Jazz than he ever knew.

[entitled-fangirl]

Luck. (P3)

Cregan Stark x reader; Robb Stark x reader

Summary: the reader finds herself enjoying the past with Cregan more and more.

There is light smut in this one. You have been warned.

Part 1, 2

Masterlist

.............................................

Only two days later did it happen again. 

She and Robb were in the crypt visiting Robb's ancestors for the first time since their marriage.

The torch lit up the dark cavern and only the sound of their footsteps and water dripping could be heard. 

Her head moved on a swivel, going to each statue that was placed in the crypt. 

"And that's my grandsire, Rickard," Robb said as he pointed to the statue. "Oh, and this one," he said as his eyes moved to another one, "my father's sister, Lyanna."

She stared at the statue of Lyanna. She remembered her father, King Robert, who had spoken about Lyanna. 

His only love.

"She's beautiful," she said quietly. 

"Aye," Robb smiled. "The statue hardly does it justice to be honest with you."

She nodded, letting her feet begin to walk further into the crypt. Her eyes landed on a statue of a man, burly and broad. "Who is this, Robb?"

"Brandon. My uncle," Robb said with a downturned lip.

Her brows furrowed as she studied the face of him under the torch light, "He seems like he's never known a smile."

Robb couldn't help the light laugh that left him, "I don't think he did to be honest, my love." He let out a light sigh, "my mother was suppose to marry him."

Her eyebrows shot up and she turned to him, "What?"

"He died at the hands of the Mad King, along with my grandsire. They were trying to protect Lyanna."

Her eyes softened, "I am sorry. That cannot be easy to live with."

He shrugged lightly, "It is the past. So be it."

"That does not make it lighter of a burden."

"No," he said as he chewed the inside of his cheek. "No, I suppose it doesn't."

He held out his arm to her, and the two continued their walk. 

As Robb pointed out various people, the were walking closer and closer to the eldest of the Starks. 

"Rodwell. Barthogen. That one is Jonnel. All brothers and Lords of Winterfell." His eyes roamed the statues he'd seen a million times before. "Raya. Mariah." 

It was a lot to take in for her. At least 300 years of history sat in these caves.

"Benjin, Brandon, Cregan, Eric…"

Cregan. 

Her head seemed to perk up at that. "I'm sorry. Which ones?"

Robb grinned, pointing them out again. "Benjin, Brandon, Cregan, and that one is Eric." 

Even from far away and by mere torchlight, she'd know the form of that statue from anywhere.

"My lord!" A voice called down the dark crypt.

Robb sighed, "Forgive me, love. I'll deal with this. Here." He handed the torch to her, "I'll return quickly. Do enjoy your time here."

She took the torch, feeling his lips brush a gentle kiss to her forehead before he walked away. 

Her eyes were glued to Cregan's statue. 

She forced her feet to take careful steps to the stone carving. 

It was a decent resemblance, she knew that. It seemed that his statue guaranteed him a longer life than she had seen, noting the changes in the face of it that could've only been made through time. 

He lived to be much older. 

He was no boy when she had seen him, no. But this in front of her? Was a man who had seen it all.

She looked back down the direction Robb had left before a soft sigh left her. 

She reached up, gently brushing the cheek of the statue, ignoring the dust that collected on her fingers. 

"You're not as handsome in stone," she mused in a whisper. 

When it seemed Robb wouldn't be back for a while longer, she lowered herself to the feet of Cregan's memorial to sit. 

She turned herself away from it, moving to lean back on the feet of his statue. She closed her eyes as tried to relax as she leaned back.

She let out a grunt as her back met the cold stone floor.

Her eyes shot open.

The crypt was a lot darker. 

She pushed herself up, looking around in confusion. 

Cregan's statue wasn't there. 

Most of the statues weren't there. 

Every newer statue Robb had shown her only minutes ago was nowhere in sight. 

She stood with the torch, cursing lightly. 

Of course, it had to happen again.

…

After a while of losing her way in the dark, she managed her way back out of the crypts.

In the middle of a heavy snow. Winterfell wasn't far if she hurried. 

The snow was thick and she was hardly near wearing the right boots for it. 

In her time, it hadn't snowed in almost two weeks. But here? It seemed to be the first snow of the winter. 

She pulled her thin cloak around her and placed the hood over her head. 

It was going to be a long trek.

…

Nearing the doors of Winterfell, one of the guard's eyes widened, "My lady!"

He ran to her, "Are you hurt, my lady?"

She was shivering. She moved to speak, but her jaw chattered too harshly, so she shook her head. 

He nodded, "C'mon. I'll get you to Lord Stark myself."

The man shrugged off his cloak, throwing the heavy furs over the girl. 

They made it into the castle walls in no time, and a message was sent to Cregan. 

The guard forced her to the nearest fireplace, barking at servants to arrange for hot cloths. 

She stood shivering by the fire when Cregan entered. 

He stormed in, throwing the door open loudly. When his eyes met hers, they held a concern look to them. He quickly moved to her and took her face in his hands with a firm grip, "What were you thinking?"

"I was… I…" She tried to speak. 

"Gods, you're freezing! C'mere."

He held her to his chest, the warmth radiating off of him as it always did.

"Why were you out there?"

"I… I'm sorry…"

He sighed, "You're here now. I suppose that's all that matters."

…

"Where are you?" She asked with a giggle.

Her feet moved quickly, nearing the wardrobe she was sure younger Brandon was hiding in. 

She pretended to look around for him, and she smiled when she heard his giggle come from the wardrobe.

She ripped open the doors, laughing when she heard his playful scream. 

He made a run for it, moving down the hall at a fast rate. 

She ran behind him, determined to catch the boy and win the game. 

She rounded a corner, seeing him gone. 

She looked around as a small crease came to her brow. 

Perhaps he was too good. 

Or maybe she had returned. 

Brandon came from behind her, tackling her down. She grunted from the force, catching herself with her hands with a laugh. 

She twisted her body around to grab him in her arms and pin him down. 

"I win!" She panted. 

"Hardly." He teased. 

She scoffed and let him go, now sitting up. "I had you pinned."

"Yeah, but you were losing before."

She chuckled, "I don't believe that's how the game works."

He grinned, pushing her down again and trying to tickle her now.

She let out a shriek as he did so, but it was quickly gone when someone picked the boy up off the ground.

"Attacking my lady of Winterfell?" Cregan teased. "That's treason, boy."

Brandon wriggled in his brother's arms, "She started it!"

"Does not matter. I side with the lady." Cregan smirk grew, "Perhaps I should teach you a lesson."

"No! NO, Cregan! No, don't!" He giggled. 

Cregan turned to Y/n, "What do you think, my love? Shall the boy be punished?"

She sat up on the cold floor, "Do be merciful today, my lord. He's just a boy."

He grinned, "My lady has spoken." He set Brandon down and ruffled his hair, "But I'd best not see you attacking her again."

Brandon grinned with mischief, "Yes, my lord."

Cregan playfully pushed his head away, "Go on, Brandon."

The two watched him run off before Cregan's hand moved to help her up. "You two have much more energy than you should."

She smiled and brushed off her dress, "You say it as if it's bad."

He pulled her to him, "Only when I hear your shriek across the castle and I fear for you."

She scoffed, "It was not that loud."

He chuckled, "I assure you it was."

She flushed, "Apologies, Cregan."

He shook his head, "None of the sort. It's quite nice to hear your laughter throughout the halls."

She looked up into his eyes, studying them, "I'm glad."

He grabbed her chin, holding her in place, "You know, I've been missing you, as of late."

"Have you?"

"Aye. Quite fiercely."

Her eyes turned playful, "Well, I'm right here."

His darkened, "That you are."

He picked her up bridle-style with ease. She shrieked at the sudden movement and held onto his shoulders. 

"Scared I'll drop you, pretty?"

Her wide eyes met his. 

He grinned, "I've not dropped you before. I'd be a fool to now."

He began to walk down the halls of Winterfell, nearing their chambers. He threw open the door and playfully threw her onto the bed. 

He shut the door and locked it before moving next to her on the bed. "How long before they'll require our attention?"

"Who, my love?"

"The North."

She grinned, "A few minutes, I'm sure."

He gained a predatory look, "I can use a few minutes wisely."

She turned her head towards him, "You haven't yet."

He grinned, pulling himself over her and kissing her deeply.

She let out a groan at his suddenness and kissed back fervently. 

He pulled off his clothing piece by piece without breaking their connection. 

She thanked herself for choosing a dress with ties at the front today, for now Cregan was eagerly yanking at them, pulling them out from the corset. 

He began to kiss down her neck, grinning when he hit a spot that made her moan.

"Can I have you, my love?" He asked against her skin. 

She sighed and closed her eyes, "Please."

He growled, capturing her lips again as he pulled her small clothes off, moving from her only to get it over her head then continuing as before. 

His fingers moved under them, tracing her thighs teasingly.

"C'mon, Cregan."

He smiled against her lips, "Yes, my lady."

He moved two fingers into her, watching the groan leave her lips. 

She could hardly think of Robb at this point. 

She let out shaky breaths as his fingers pumped in and out of her. 

"Ugh… Cregan…"

He grinned, "I know. I know."

He kissed her again, curling his fingers into her, catching her groan with his mouth. 

A knock sounded at the door, "My lord?"

Cregan's jaw clenched as he pulled himself up, not withdrawing his fingers, "What?"

"You're needed at the petition, my lord."

He grinned, curling his fingers again, watching her try to hold in a moan. 

"I'll be there momentarily."

He pulled his fingers out as he pulls himself away from her with a dissatisfied groan. 

He grabs his tunic, pulling it over his head as he looks over to her. 

She's staring up at the ceiling in thought. 

He smiles, kissing her cheek. "Join me?"

That's strange.

Robb never asked her to join for petitions. He always said there was "No reason to worry a lady with trivial things."

"You don't have to, of course."

She shook her head, "No, I… I would like that."

He nodded, his teasing smile returning, "Get dressed then, pretty. We've got the North waiting on us."

She sat up and kissed him, "Can't keep them waiting then."

Hopefully, the North was not waiting for her return to Robb.

Who knows when that will happen again?

.......................................................

Taglist: @rlblackbarbie, @rebeccawinters, @happinessinthebeing, @abaker74, @helo1281917, @idonotknowenglish, @zizouu23, @aelora-a, @twinkletwinklenotastar

[papaya-twinks]

printer - l.n

Warnings: Fernando throwing shade 🥶

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - going through my camera roll and found the video of my ancient ass grand father (conveniently called fernando) standing with old man pose (hands behind back, disgruntled expression) peer into the cot (where baby me is), turn to my mother and say, “I see you did a printer job of Aurelio (my dad), Raya (my mum)” and it’s giving Fernando meeting Lando’s kid

Yours and Lando’s daughter was 2 years today, and you finally decided it would be a good idea to bring him to the paddock to meet some of the drivers. “C’mon, Cheriie,” Lando cooed, leading your daughter behind you into the paddock. She babbled incoherently, wearing a little orange McLaren shirt, her hair tied into pigtails with papaya beads on the ends. 

“Hey mate,” Max said, Penelope behind him as her eyes widened at your daughter. “Hey,” Lando nodded, stepping aside so Cheriie could see Penelope. “This Cheriie?” Max kneeled down, smiling at your daughter. “Yeah,” you said, holding onto Lando’s hand as you watched Penelope babble to your daughter. 

“We’re taking her round to meet some of the drivers,” Lando said, picking Cheriie up into his arms as she giggled. The small commotion of Penelope and Cheriie caused a few drivers to come over - George and Lewis, and Charles and Carlos. “Ah, little chilli,” Carlos peered at the girl wriggling in Lando’ arms. 

“Absolutely not, you’re going to convince her to be Spanish or something,” Lando grumbled. “Yes, being Monegasque is better,” Charles said triumphantly. “I think she should stay with us,” you said, shaking your head as Lewis picked her up. “She looks just like you, mate,” he nodded to Lando as your boyfriend laughed. 

“Got her mother’s charm,” he winked as you flushed softly. “Ah un bebe?” a voice said behind you, making you turn, seeing Fernando. He raised an eyebrow, peering at the child, his hands behind his back, classic old man pose, his face emotionless. “Y/N?” the older Spaniard said. 

You looked up at his call. “I see you have done a printer job of Lando,” the words made you snort as Lando scoffed. “Did you even help with this baby? One man tango?” Fernando’s words made you shriek, covering your face. “She’ll be like her mum, just wait,” Lando said.

[ddejavvu]

pairing: anakin skywalker x reader:

summary: anakin fucks people that remind him of you

warnings: smut, minors dni. intense obsession (it's anakin), dubious fantasies, he doesn't treat his hookups very well

for @hanasnx who i have left waiting for far too long for this.

anakin fucks people that remind him of you.

he's hopelessly, obsessively in love with you. that much has been true since he'd met you. but you're with someone else, and no matter how much he tries willing your relationship to end; no matter how long he spends in some devilish imitation of prayer to the only god he knows, the Force, you're happy with another.

eventually, squeezing his eyes shut and picturing your face isn't enough to get him to shoot a load all over his stomach. he does it too many times, he rubs his cock raw and the novelty fades.

he makes it a point to inhale when he's near you, especially if you grace him with a hug. he commits the smell of your body spray to memory, and scours every care shop he can find until he picks up a bottle that matches your scent. he screams his throat raw into the pillow that he's sprayed with your smell as he fucks his fist. this works for a bit, but like the addiction you are, it fades again. he needs more.

he doesn't go out looking for someone like you, but when he spots a familiar haircut across the dingy lower-level bar that makes his cock twitch, he goes after them. it's not you, their face is less defined and rounder at the forehead, but he gets a terrible, awful, evil idea and he coaxes them to the back corner for a quick fuck. he squeezes his eyes shut and when they try kissing him and it doesn't bring with it a rush of your scent, he pushes them away and keeps them pinned to the wall while he jackhammers into them.

it gets worse, spiraling, spiraling, spiraling until he's fixating on a stranger with your cheekbones, a passerby whose voice sounds like yours. he lets them display their similar traits; cheekbones gets the privilege of his nose buried against their face and singsong gets to moan. if cheekbones dares moan though- it's not your voice, and he steals the breath from their lungs for just long enough to fuck it out between their hips and hike his pants back up.

the more he fucks, the worse he gets. he doesn't know he's moaning your name until someone has the gall to correct him, a breathy, "No, no, I'm- I'm Raya.'

Anakin kicks up a panicked, grunting wail as your face shatters and falls from his mind, the sound guttural and angry as he pins Raya's wrists beside their head. they're touching him but not like you would, so they're not allowed to touch him anymore. and they said their name was not yours, so they're not allowed to talk anymore. and they're ruining his fantasy, so would they just shut up so he can finish already? His raging cry covers the most part of their name but doesn't erase it; anakin has to muzzle them with his large hand to get enough of his fantasy back to where he's able to spill into your warm, wet hole, and he doesn't offer them so much as a courtesy kiss on the way out.

[shy-peacock]

Imagine Namaari is lost in the crowd- and Raya and the others are looking for her and she gets on top of Tuk Tuk to get a better look and spots her so they make their way to her and it’s like

Raya, teasing: get a little lost there dep la? 😜

Namaari: yeah yeah, whatever…😏

THEN RAYA REACHES DOWN AND NAMAARI TAKES HER HAND AND SHE GETS HOISTED UP ONTO TUK TUK AND AS THEY RIDE BACK TO THE OTHERS NAMAARI HUGS HER FROM BEHIND AND SAYS ALL SIMPLE AND CUTE OR SHY LIKE-

“Thanks” ☺️

AND RAYA JUST SMIRKS BACK AND SAYS

“No problem, Maari.”

AND ITS CUTE AHHHHHGG AND THATS WHY SHES ALSO ON TUKTUK FOR THE PHOTO

[archiverstappen]

it’s a match ✧ lando norris

lando norris x fem! actress! reader

masterlist | next part

reader is in desperate need for a boyfriend, so her best friends took a drastic measure to find her one

[message]

[instagram]

yourusername

liked by landonorris and 5.829.551 others

yoursername behind the scenes😗

view all 10.829 comments

tomholland2013 First

↳ yourusername i miss you dad

↳ tomholland2013 Miss you too daughter

↳ zendaya Stop

↳ username it’s literally impossible to comment on either yn’s or zendaya’s post before tom did 😭

↳ username i love my family 🫂

username MOTHER

alexademie stunning 🤍

↳ yourusername i love you🥹

landonorris 🔥🔥🔥

↳ username just lando norizz casually shooting his shot

↳ username WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

↳ username GET BACK 👺

maya_hawke just so you know, i have a crush on you

↳ yourusername that’s crazy because i have a crush on you too?! 🫨

username CAN’T WAIT FOR YOUR NEXT MOVIE

username i just love how these comment sections are filled with people simping over y/n

[twitter]

[instagram]

__

author’s note: i desperately need to work on my thesis, but i’ve had this fic idea ever since i saw a tiktok of someone stumbling upon lando’s profile on raya SO I NEED TO LET IT OUT!! another series perhaps? 🫣

pictures (c) to pinterest