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delulujuls · 3 months

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healing sessions | aegon II targaryen

hi, it's been a hot minute since i posted here, the last weeks were pretty intense for me and since i have a summer break now, i would like to start writing again and do it more regularly.

this is something new here and since new episode of hotd dropped, im in my westeros era, so please prepare for something other than my last shots (i will still write for f1, don't worry)

and lemme set this straight, im team black till the day i die but those green bastards are FINE AS HELL lmao. also @alicenthightcwer is author of those gifts

summary: aegon isn't dealing well with his father loss, but gladly there is someone who's gonna do her best to lift his spirit a bit

warnings: it's fluff without basically any plot, sister x brother romance so targaryens at their finest, mentions of death, depression, alcohol, drugs

pairing: sister!reader x aegon targaryen

The news of King Viserys's death did not surprise the residents of King's Landing. Nonetheless, the loss of the kind ruler dealt a painful blow to the city, which seemed to freeze in time with the king's passing. The capital plunged into mourning, and in addition to the banners, black flags were hoisted. Westeros was left without a king.

Viserys's successor, his second child and first son, Aegon Targaryen, had not been seen since the king's funeral. Aegon had lost not just a king but, most importantly, a father who, unfortunately for him, named him the future ruler on his deathbed.

Aegon would have gladly given the throne to Rhaenyra, his older half-sister. He would have done it without hesitation, even placing the crown on her head himself. Unfortunately, his mother Alicent, who was with her dying husband and heard his wish to elevate their eldest son to the throne, decided to fulfill her beloved husband's last wish at any cost.

To be honest, Aegon couldn't care less about being king. The young prince had not left his bed for several days, thick curtains blocking any light from outside. Occasionally, servants were allowed into his chambers, but only with wine and poppy milk. Aegon did not eat, allowed no one near him, and slept. Sleep was his salvation. Even the prostitutes, who once outnumbered the rats in the castle, were no longer summoned. The fiery prince had dimmed.

Alicent knew she needed to give her son time to grieve. She didn't bother him, only inquiring about his condition from the servants who managed to enter his chambers. It was enough for her to know that he was alive. Aegon's siblings dealt with their grief in their own ways, and his condition hardly impressed anyone. Except for Y/N, who, despite her own pain, worried about her brother. Sitting at breakfast, she silently observed Aegon's chair, which remained empty. After her husband's death, Alicent decreed that all meals, not just dinners, be taken together. The firstborn had not appeared at any of them since.

After a silent breakfast punctuated by brief, formal conversations, Y/N stood up and grabbed a plate, filling it with Aegon's favorite croissants and a portion of strawberries. She was done pretending nothing was wrong. This had to end.

"You shouldn't go to him," Alicent said quietly as the servants began clearing the table. "You know him, he'll come out when he's ready."

"Or he'll drink himself to death first," she replied, not even glancing at her mother. Alicent clasped her hands and pressed them to her lips, watching her family fall apart without knowing how to stop it.

Y/N left the dining room and went to Aegon's chambers. She knocked first, wanting to maintain decorum, but knowing it was futile, she grabbed the handle and pushed the heavy door open. Inside was darkness. Only a nearly spent candle by the bed gave off any light; the room looked like a cave. She blindly set the plate on a table, and with arms outstretched, she made her way to the windows. With a swift motion, she drew the curtains, and even she was blinded by the sudden light that flooded in. Not hearing any curses from her brother, Y/N looked over her shoulder. On the large bed, a figure lay curled up, back to her. From the waist down, he was covered with a sheet that blended with his pale skin. White hair in disarray touched the crumpled pillow. Aegon was either in a deep sleep or dead.

Y/N opened the curtains at every window, flinging some open. The room was stuffy, reeking of stale alcohol, sweat, and the sweet scent of poppy milk. She circled the bed, crouching opposite her brother. He was indeed asleep, but his breathing was shallow. His lips were cracked, stained with dried blood. His eyelashes were matted with tears, and dark circles marred his eyes. There was a bruise under his left eye that was different from the ones under his eyes, as it began to fade and turn from purple to green. Y/N remembered her mother, who had been rubbing her hand while sitting at the table for several days. She could only guess that Alicent was trying to shake her son off in her own way.

Aegon slept, lying on his side and hugging himself, seeking comfort only he could provide. Y/N brushed the tangled strands from his forehead and kissed him. Aegon did not stir.

The princess knew he wouldn't allow servants to tend to him. She left the room quietly, asking the maids to prepare a hot bath quickly and silently. Y/N returned and sat beside him on the bed, gently stroking his head.

Aegon wasn't the bad person many thought him to be. True, he was unique, and in a room full of people, he was impossible to ignore, but no one is born evil. Now, Aegon was simply engulfed in darkness from which he couldn't free himself. The slender, sticky fingers of depression had tightened around his throat, allowing only alcohol to pass.

After some time, a maid stood by the bed, whispering that the bath was ready, nervously glancing at the sleeping prince, afraid of waking him up. Y/N thanked and dismissed her, then leaned in and kissed her brother's forehead again.

"Aegon..." she began softly, close to his ear. "Wake up, I have strawberries for you."

He furrowed his brow, feeling her hair tickle his face. At first, he thought it was a dream or a drunken hallucination, but when he felt the urge to sneeze, he wiped his face with his hand. When he opened his heavy eyelids and saw how bright it was, he pulled the pillow over his head.

"I said no one was to come in," he muttered, his voice muffled by the pillow. "I'll have you killed for this."

"It's nice to see you too, considering I haven't seen you in over a week," she replied, sitting back on his bed and placing the breakfast she brought on the table beside him.

Hearing the familiar voice and wanting to ensure it wasn't a drunken hallucination, Aegon removed the pillow from his face, clutching it to his chest. From squinted eyes, his violet gaze spotted a well-known figure.

"Y/N?" he asked hoarsely, his voice betraying that he'd only spoken to chase away servants in the past days.

"Yes, it's me," she nodded. "And if you still want to kill me, you'll have to get out of bed, which I doubt you can do."

Aegon sighed, more of a grunt of dissatisfaction. He wanted to cover his face with the pillow again, but his sister took it and easily pulled it from his arms.

"Did you come here just to make my life more miserable?" he groaned, looking at her with displeasure.

"I came to stop what you thought was the best solution," Y/N explained. "I brought you breakfast and a hot bath."

"I don't want breakfast or a bath," Aegon replied, turning onto his other side. "And you can leave. Tell mother I'm not dead yet."

"I'm not leaving until you get out of bed," she informed him, staring at his back.

"Then enjoy your stay," he muttered, closing his eyes again.

Y/N sighed. She knew it might be hard, but in a few days, she had almost forgotten her brother's character. And Aegon's character was sometimes the textbook definition of a Targaryen.

"I came here because I want to help you," Y/N began, feeling a lump in her throat. "No one talks to each other, and when they do, it's just some fucking formalities. Aemond flies on Vhagar every day, Helaena spends hours in the garden with her books, Rhaenyra has been on Dragonstone since the funeral, mother is banging with Cole at every turn, and I don't even know if you're alive," she said in one breath, feeling tears prickling her eyes. Only when she said it all out loud did she realize what was happening. It wasn't just about informing Aegon; it was about making herself understand. The truth hurt her even more than she expected.

Hearing his sister's trembling and upset voice, Aegon sighed and turned onto his back, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. Only now could his sister see his full appearance. It was the image of a boy deep in mourning and struggling with unimaginable pain.

For a moment, they exchanged looks in silence until Aegon glanced at the nightstand beside his bed.

"Did you bring strawberries?"

She reached for the plate and placed it on the bed next to her brother. Aegon weakly lifted his hand and took one, eating it whole, including the stem.

"Croissants with filling?" he asked, chewing. Y/N nodded again.

"Nut and chocolate," she answered. Aegon silently took a croissant and slowly began to eat.

Y/N quickly wiped her cheeks as two single tears escaped from the corners of her eyes. The young prince looked at his sister, who also seemed different than he remembered from a few days ago. Her hair was still neatly combed, with a few small braids woven into it. The dark red dress, which he thought he had seen her wear before, now seemed to hang a bit loosely on her shoulders and wrinkle at the stomach. The color of the dress reminded him of the bloody cuticles around her nails, which she must have bitten out of nerves. Her face, still beautiful, was now paler than usual, almost as white as her hair. Her swollen eyes lacked their usual sparkle, and her lips seemed to have completely forgotten what a smile was.

"How are you feeling?" he asked after a moment when he had finished eating. Y/N pushed the plate closer to him, and as he reached for another croissant, she only shrugged.

"I'm sad. And I sleep poorly," she replied, staring out the window.

"You know, poppy milk—", "I won't drink it," she interrupted him.

Aegon raised his hands in a defensive gesture, taking another bite of the croissant.

"And you?" she asked, looking at him. "How are you feeling?"

He also shrugged.

"I don't even know. Now I think I feel nothing," he said, looking back at her. "Most of the time I feel nothing, except when a wave of sadness hits, and then I cry like a child until I fall asleep again."

Y/N nodded silently. She could tell that Aegon had spent many hours crying.

He put the last piece of croissant in his mouth and reached for a strawberry, handing it to his sister. She took it and ate it, nodding with appreciation.

"Not bad, right?" Aegon said, seeing her reaction. "Unusually sweet for this time of year."

Y/N let out an involuntary snort, lowering her head. Their father was dead, the country was without a king, the family was falling apart, and this idiot was talking about how great the strawberries were.

"They really are good, I don't know what you mean," he replied, taking the last strawberry and popping it into his mouth. The girl smiled, for the first time in a long while, then looked at her brother.

"I miss you, you know?"

"I'm not dead yet," he said sarcastically, rubbing his face with his hands. Y/N set the plate aside, and Aegon extended his arm toward her, silently inviting a hug. The girl shook her head and stood up.

"Maybe I miss you, but not enough to hug you after so many days without a bath," she replied, nodding her head towards the bathroom.

"You've got to be kidding," he snorted, but she shook her head again and pointed to the bathroom. Aegon sighed and slid off the bed, looking at her reproachfully the entire time. When he stood, the sheet slipped off completely, and he, naked and unbothered, walked unsteadily toward the bathroom. Y/N asked the servants to change his bedding and clean the room while she locked herself in the bathroom with him. As he sat in the water, she perched on the edge of the tub, rolling up the sleeves of her dress.

She reached for the nearby comb and slowly began to untangle his matted hair. They both remained silent, as words were completely unnecessary at that moment. After a while, she put the comb down and picked up the sponge, wetting it and pouring water over his hair. Aegon closed his eyes and tilted his head forward.

Y/N grabbed the soap and lathered it in her hands, adding a few drops of lavender oil. Aegon smiled as the familiar, pleasant scent filled the air, while she began to wash his hair. He sat there with his eyes closed, allowing his sister to take care of him. Aegon felt that of everyone in the family, only Y/N truly cared about him. Despite being the second youngest sibling, just after Helaena, he had always gotten along best with her. They were almost inseparable, always sitting together at feasts, stuffing sweets into their pockets to eat later in the garden when they managed to escape the table. Rhaenyra, their half-sister, was always the oldest and most composed. Aemond, younger than Aegon, was calm and collected but could stab a knife into someone’s neck without blinking if provoked. Helaena lived in her own world, surrounded by books, flowers, and maesters who had tried to help her ever since they noticed something was off with the growing princess. Aegon was often irreformable, acting and speaking first and thinking later. When he was younger, he was incredibly unruly, the mastermind behind every wild idea that Y/N almost always eagerly supported. The young princess loved her brother, who always tried to make her smile. Aegon loved his sister and knew that of all the people in the castle, she was the only one he would kill for and die for either.

Young prince winced quietly when Y/N, massaging his tense shoulders, ran her thumb over a particularly tight muscle.

"You're as hard as a rock," she said, continuing to massage his back. Aegon smiled to himself.

"Not quite yet," he joked.

She rolled her eyes and soaked the sponge again, rinsing the soap off his back with warm water. As she got up to stoke the fire, Aegon submerged himself in the water, washing the soap off himself and his hair. After a moment, he sat up straight and wiped his face off, leaning on the sides of the tub. He silently watched his sister, whose silhouette was highlighted by the flickering fire in the fireplace. Her white, slightly wavy hair cascaded down her back. The young prince smiled and bit his lip. Blood of my blood.

When Y/N finished tending to the fire, she stood up and dusted off her hands. She looked up, feeling her brother's gaze on her. He watched her in silence.

"Care to join?" he asked, glancing at the tub before looking back at her.

She shook her head, stepping closer and looking at the murky water. "I think I'll pass this time."

Aegon extended his hand toward her, and she gave him hers, which he pressed to his lips, planting a wet kiss on her skin. She smiled at his gesture.

"I'll go dismiss the servants," she said, stroking his cheek. "Make sure you wash away all the sadness."

The princess left the bathroom and returned to the chambers. They looked much better now, with two servants finishing changing the bed linens. When they were done, she thanked and dismissed them. She approached the large wardrobe, looking for clean clothes for her brother. She planned to get him outside for a walk, even if just a short one.

She placed the clothes on a chair and sat on the bed, running her hand over the freshly made bedding. Shortly after, Aegon emerged from the bathroom, not bothering to cover himself with even a towel.

When he stood in the doorway, Y/N involuntarily looked up at him. She looked him up and down, causing Aegon to smile.

"Like what you see?" he asked, approaching the bed without taking his eyes off her.

"I'm just checking if you washed yourself properly," she retorted, lifting her head to meet his gaze when he stood right in front of her.

Aegon still wore a faint smile as he cupped her face, his thumb stroking her cheek. His pale skin had gained a bit of color from the hot bath, but he had goosebumps from the cool, fresh breeze coming through the windows. The dark circles under his eyes were still visible, but his gaze was now clear and certain, darkening as he was looking at his sister.

"I missed you too," he said after a moment of silence, during which they exchanged looks. He brushed his thumb over her lower lip. "Make love with me."

It wasn't a command or even a request. It was a quiet murmur filled with desperation, almost sounding like a plea. Aegon needed to feel her warmth, needed to feel something other than the alcoholic breath of death that placed cold kisses on him.

She silently stood from the bed, and before he could say anything, she touched his cheek and kissed him. Aegon wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close, returning the kiss. Blindly, he started to fumble with the ties of her dress, but seeing his struggle, she began undressing herself. He cupped her face in his hands, kissing her tenderly. When she loosened her corset, Aegon grabbed the bottom of her gown and quickly pulled it over her head, tossing it aside. She shivered at the sudden chill but soon felt Aegon's warm body against her skin. He smiled into her mouth.

"You're so soft," he whispered between kisses, holding her tightly as if he wanted to lock her inside his ribcage. "Go on, lie down."

She obeyed, positioning herself comfortably on a pile of pillows. Aegon hovered over her, kissing her gently. Their hands tangled in each other's hair, touching and grasping every bit of skin they could reach. Lips swollen from kissing released soft sighs and moans mixed with tender words.

Aegon could be gentle, delicate, and caring. He wasn't like this with the whores he sometimes brought to his chambers to relieve himself and kill boredom. But he loved his sister dearly and would never harm her.

The young prince couldn't remember the first time his sister came to his chambers and stayed the night. It was probably before their father's illness. One autumn, Aegon caught a terrible cold. He couldn't sleep at night, and his cough kept the entire western wing of the castle awake. One night, a sleepy Y/N went to his room, silently took the nearby laying ointment, sat on his hips, and began rubbing it on his chest. Aegon, feverish, thought he was hallucinating. But when he woke up the next morning and saw his naked sister asleep in his bed, he knew the events of the previous night hadn't been a fever dream.

Now, too, Aegon had to think twice if the soft body in his arms was really there or just a trick of his drunken mind.

"Are you real?" he whispered, pulling away from her lips and looking at her face.

"You'll have to find out for yourself," Y/N replied just as softly.

Aegon smiled involuntarily and hurriedly disappeared between her thighs.

At dinner, not only Aegon's chair was empty. The chair next to his, Y/N's, was also vacant.

Aemond glanced sideways at his sister, who tried to hide her smile behind her hair. Otto looked at her as well, then at her mother.

"Helaena?" Alicent spoke, looking at the blushing face of her daughter. "Is something wrong?"

"Aegon is feeling much better," she said. The young princess knew this first because the garden she particularly liked was just below her brother's chambers, and the windows, this time, were wide open.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #hotd #aegon the second #hotd fanfic #hotd one shot

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yinyuedijun · 1 month

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TOKYO VICE | part 2

“Do you remember,” Suo begins, voice light, “how our master always talked about how important it is to engage with each other’s feelings?” You tense. “No,” you blurt out, and Suo laughs. “Of course not,” he plays along. “You were always so terrible at it. But I've been doing a bad job too, lately. So”—he reaches beneath your dress, hooks your thong with his fingers and starts pulling the fabric down your sticky thighs—“I wanted to have an honest conversation with you.” (Or: Tired of your lies and self-deception, Suo takes matters into his own hands and forces the truth out of you.)

12.8k words. suo x fem reader. deeply unserious yakuza au ft. yandere suo. mostly unrepentant smut, comedy, angst. warnings: sex work. nsft tags: afab reader, emotional sex, fingering, dacryphilia, orgasm denial, pussyjob, just the tip, creampie. suo is mean and makes you cry but there's no degradation, he's just a bastard lol. he also manhandles you a lot and you sit in his lap. dividers by @/cafekitsune!

part 1 here

You're surprised at Suo’s indifference to your sex life.

A month has gone by, and he’s made no comment on your habit of sleeping with customers, nor on the hours during which you come home—which are now even later than usual, since you have express permission to sleep with people and have no need to rush back to the penthouse after your ‘appointments’. And it isn't as if he's ignoring the reality of your late nights either. In a stunning show of respect for your personal freedom, he now actively offers to arrange for someone to pick you up from whichever love hotel you'll end up at. (You always decline, of course—if you're going to pretend to be his wife, you'd rather pretend to be a faithful one.)

Ironically, you had initially thought that Suo’s approval wouldn't matter either way. You had found the sex with your clients to be so uninspiring that it made you miss celibacy, so you were planning on stopping. But it turned out that you were deeply affected by the experience of sitting in Suo’s lap as he talked about his expectation of deciding whose cocks you should be allowed to take. It did something horrible to your sex drive, and thus you turned to work as your only outlet.

You spent around three weeks desperately trying to find a customer to satisfy your urges—or at the very least, to fuck you in a way that could get you to stop thinking of Suo whenever you got even a little horny. You were faced with utter failure in this pursuit, and in the end, bleakly resigned yourself to the reality that your shameful attraction to your best friend is incurable. You’ve now given up on the love hotel visits and simply take care of your needs with a vibrator instead. At least this way, you can actually say Suo’s name while you cum, rather than constantly reminding yourself to say your customer’s name instead.

The freedom of letting yourself fantasise about Suo has been exhilarating, but terrible for your friendship. It’s just difficult to sit across from him at breakfast and act like you haven't touched yourself at the table while he was gone, fantasising about what it would be like if he bent you over it and fucked you dumb. But you are a decent actor—hostessing demands that of you—so you don't think Suo has caught onto your carnal desires for him. Hopefully, he never will.

Another couple of weeks pass like this. Things are so calm that you come to believe that Suo is genuinely fine with you having some degree of sexual freedom, at least at work. This, however, turns out to be nothing short of naïvete.

After all, Suo is never forceful when he's upset with your decisions—but he also never fails to redirect them.

One spring evening, you show up at the kyabakura and are told that you’re only to see one customer tonight, and that it will be a private session.

“But we don't do private sessions here,” you say, blissfully unaware of your imminent suffering, “and we don't even have private rooms at this establishment.”

To this, your mamasan responds that the club is making an exception for this one guest, and that this guest has rented out the rooftop bar just to see you. When you ask just who this person might be, a look of mild panic flashes through her eyes. She grabs you by the shoulders and tells you to be careful. Just keep him happy and go home after, okay? she says. Don't go out for drinks, and definitely don't go to any love hotels. Don’t tell him your real name at any cost. You don't want to involve yourself with a man like him.

A sense of dread fills you as you step into the elevator.

A cool breeze greets you when you step onto the rooftop patio. Normally bustling with a raucous crowd, it almost feels eerie in its emptiness. Aside from the glow of the red light district beneath you and the city skyline in the distance, the only light is coming from the candles lighting one of the booths.

Your anxiety intensifies as you approach it.

You aren't very surprised at the sight of Suo lounging on a leather couch, dressed in full criminal regalia—infamous eyepatch, tassel earrings, and all. Sakura once mentioned that this club is connected to some colour gang, so you figure that the manager likely recognized Gui Yanzhao on sight. He probably suffered a minor angina when he did. The mamasan herself has no criminal ties to your knowledge, but she was probably informed that one of her girls was to entertain a high-profile yakuza, and she was likely worried that you'd been maimed in the process. Gui Yanzhao has a bit of a reputation for being a sadist, after all.

While you appreciate her concern, it is not Suo’s history of violence that scares you, but his history of antagonising you. On good days, there's nothing that delights him more than seeing you flustered or off-kilter. On bad days, there’s nothing that consoles him like spiteful retaliation against whomever's managed to piss him off—and you have, without a doubt, managed to piss him off.

You groan as soon as you see him, fearing the worst for your mental health.

“What are you doing here,” you say, and Suo smiles.

“Oh? You're not happy to see me?”

“No,” you moan. “How are you even here right now? Aren't you worried about being assassinated or something? Who did you terrorise to get an entire rooftop bar to yourself?”

“I have a very cordial relationship with all the major organisations on Keisei Street and was promised immunity during my visit tonight,” Suo says neatly. “And I didn't terrorise anyone. I simply walked into this fine establishment and politely asked for a private space to enjoy with my preferred hostess.”

Neither of you need to mention that the sight of the tassel earrings alone would be enough to terrorise someone. The manager probably felt like he was being extorted just from being on the receiving end of Suo’s smile. Actually, you currently feel like you're being extorted too.

You spend a good few moments giving him a look of open distress, to which he smiles.

“You know,” he says, “for a top-ranking hostess, you're not showing much hospitality right now.”

“Oh, for the love of—”

You force yourself to stop, remembering that you are, in fact, at work. Despite your mixed feelings about your industry, at the end of the day, you pride yourself on your work ethic. You take your job very seriously, and your job right now is to entertain your customer—even if said customer is your fake yakuza husband who is toying with you as a cat would a mouse.

Resigning yourself to a night of probable humiliation (one of Suo's greatest passions in addition to lying for comedy), you walk over to sit yourself next to him. And just like in Red Dragon’s lounge, Suo overturns the decision by pulling you into his lap. Your eyes go wide as he settles you on top of him—because unlike the intimate space of that crime scene, this is expressly forbidden behaviour at your club.

Also, unlike that other night, you are currently wearing the shortest dress imaginable and the tiniest thong you own.

You find yourself shivering as Suo's hand settles on your lower back, which is fully exposed thanks to the cut of your dress. You try not to focus on the calloused press of his fingers against your bare skin, but this is an exceedingly difficult endeavour, as his touch has been featured in your sexual fantasies for the past several weeks. Worse yet—your dress is now riding up your ass, and your thong isn't doing much to cover you. Whatever material his pants are made of—light, delicate—feels incredibly good against your thighs too.

If this continues, you might cum on the spot.

“Wait,” you say, and Suo raises a brow.

“Oh?”

“You aren't supposed to touch the hostesses here.”

He smiles. “I'm sure this place might be able to make an exception for me. But only if you are personally willing to, of course.”

“...”

Making an exception for him, in your current situation, would be among the worst decisions you've ever made. But after two of the most sexually frustrating months of your life, you’re ready to make horrible decisions.

“Fine,” you say. “But you better not cheap out on the drinks. The mamasan will only overlook this if you make it worth our while.”

“Of course,” Suo says. “Though I think she’d overlook a lot of things for me regardless.”

Suo makes good on his promise and orders a great deal of alcohol. All top shelf, of course. He laughs that his goal is to bring you to the number 1 ranking with his patronage alone tonight. It’s a hideous display of wealth.

As you pour him an absurdly expensive drink (a Hibiki 30 year-old blended whiskey), you reminisce on how little money you both used to have as teens. He had to be so careful with his wallet whenever he felt like visiting you—or rather, checking in on you—at work. Especially after your master passed. The two of you were very good about staying financially independent, but there was something comforting about your master’s promise to support you if anything ever happened.

With him gone, you and Suo had only financial paranoia and each other.

You guess that might have affected Suo more than you thought. Perhaps he didn't join the yakuza to spite you, but to support you. Certainly, he seems to enjoy spoiling you right now—treating you to drinks that would easily clear a year of his salary as a teen, buying out an entire night of your time at a high end club, renting out a whole floor just so that he can have you to himself. When you point out that his tab must be getting catastrophic, he only laughs.

“I did always say that I wanted to spend money on you,” he recalls. It had been a running joke during your days at the girls’ bar, when you scolded him for paying 3000¥ per hour just to visit you. You hated that he was wasting money on the red light district; he always replied that it wasn't a waste, because it was money spent to see you.

You feel your stomach flutter at the comment. You didn't think he'd remember words from so long ago. As a teenager, you had a tendency of clinging onto small, inconsequential moments with him because they brought you so much joy. You’ve always assumed he would have forgotten them, writing them off as instances of shallow teasing—but if he remembers, then surely they meant something to him too?

This would all make you feel sentimental if you weren't outrageously horny.

Suo has kept you on his lap the whole evening, even as you pour him drinks. Every movement to serve him has you involuntarily rubbing on his thigh, and you're quite certain at this point that he's been lifting your skirt up inch by inch with every casual touch on your waist. You don't bother accusing him of it, though. He'd just give you an innocent look and say that it was an accident. What a horrible man.

Accident or not though, it doesn't change the fact that your nearly bare cunt is pressed right against him. You keep trying to shift positions to pull down your skirt or lift yourself off him, but each attempt only makes it worse—brings the soft fabric of his pants right against your pussy, or makes your clit drag against his thigh, with only your thong separating your bodies. You try to suppress your arousal, but to your overwhelming horror, you can't seem to control yourself. You feel yourself getting wet, folds quickly becoming slick as you’re forced to grind on him. Your body, already warm from all the cocktails and shots, grows even hotter as you squirm on his lap.

In a desperate move to regain some control, you fully get up to reach for another drink. But then you feel a pair of hands on your waist, and Suo pulls you back onto his leg—this time forcing you to straddle it. You can't help the whimper that leaves you as your dripping cunt is spread and pressed against him, your clit throbbing against his thigh.

You pray that he doesn't notice the noise, so of course he does.

“Hm? Is something wrong?” Suo’s hand drifts over your waist and down to your thigh, where it ghosts over your bare skin. He leans in, and his voice is silky as he speaks into your ear: “You're moving around a lot. Do you need to get up?”

He’s giving you an out. It's quite considerate of him, as staying like this would not be a good decision. But for better or worse, you have a tendency to make bad ones.

“...no, I'm fine.”

“Good,” he says. “Let me know if you’re uncomfortable at all. I'm happy to move if you'd like.”

As if demonstrating, Suo shifts the leg you're sitting on, directly rubbing it against your core. You try not to shudder, feeling yourself get even wetter, clenching around nothing.

Trying to ignore how empty you are, you grasp for other topics of conversation, something to distract you. A little scrambled from the alcohol and catastrophically aroused, you of course land on the one that's been making your sex drive unmanageable.

“Remember a month ago,” you say, “how you talked about choosing who gets to touch me?”

“Yes.” His palm is warm against your thigh. He isn't moving it, so there's plausible deniability, but the amused tone of his voice suggests that he knows what he's doing. “Does that bother you?”

Of course it should bother you. It's a level of control that's appalling even to your anxiously-attached ass. But it’s also making you wetter right now. You try not to cry—from misery or sexual frustration, you're not sure.

“Well, yeah. Come on, Suo—even you should know that's really weird of you.”

“I do,” he says, smiling like he isn't admitting to deranged behaviour. “But how else am I supposed to know you're safe? Or even aside from being safe—if your needs are being met.” His hand runs up and down your thigh before settling at the hem of your dress. “I wouldn't want you to go unsatisfied. Who knows what kind of people you'd seek out if that happened.”

You actively stop yourself from putting your face in your hands. The gall of him saying this after forcing you into extended celibacy is beyond words, especially as you're being forced to rub up on him, effectively ruining every attempt you've made not to think about him sexually for the past several years. There are many materially consequential reasons for your decision to not fuck Suo—you should not be soaked through your panties, your thighs sticky with need, as you sit on his lap.

“That's,” you say lamely, “not very normal of you.” Trying for a less sensual conversation, you go for the reliable topic Sakura’s romance radar: “Also, if satisfaction was your concern, why did you choose Sakura? I love that guy a lot, but he has literally no experience. And I think he'd blue-screen trying to keep a friend with benefits. You know he can't handle a fuckbuddy.”

You are not trying to be mean. What Sakura objectively needs for his first time is someone sweet and emotionally competent and, most importantly, not an absolute freak like you. This is a failure of your character, not his.

You can hear Suo’s smile in his reply: “I don't think you're giving him enough credit.”

“He has the social skills of a feral cat.”

Suo genuinely laughs. “Sure, when he first came to Makochi. But he's much better now. Plus, you have no room to talk. I mean”—his breath sweeps over your ear—“you used to be pretty wild yourself. I've just domesticated you is all… though you've been misbehaving lately.”

His words do something horrible to you. Trying to distract yourself from the mounting sexual tension, you turn to him to give him a biting retort, but you're abruptly stopped by the look in his eye. Distinctly hungry and unrepentant in its desire, his gaze roams openly and shamelessly along the curves of your body.

You feel like you're being eaten alive.

Plenty of customers have looked at you in such a way when you wear this outfit, but none have had this effect on you—which is to say, making you clench immediately.

You try not to cry. You actually will cum on the spot at this rate, and you don't think you could be subtle about it. You're barely keeping it together right now, with how your pussy keeps fluttering and dripping. Coupled with the way that the alcohol is melting the edges of your self-control, you're shocked you haven't at least moaned yet.

In a last ditch effort to save your friendship, as well as your rental (house arrest) situation, you slap a hand over his mouth.

“Stop that.”

Suo laughs. He grabs your wrist, lifts your palm away. “Why?”

Why? Because if you keep talking like that, I'll bend over and start begging you to fuck me! you think. But even in your inebriated, horny state, it feels like a poor idea to admit this aloud. You end up saying, “Hostesses aren't paid to flirt like this. Strictly speaking, we’re paid to be conversational partners.” You frown at him. “You're breaking a lot of club rules right now.”

This reprimand backfires on you, as you are suddenly filled with intrusive thoughts of breaking every single rule in this establishment with Suo, including the ones preventing you from climbing on top of him and riding him raw. You squirm at the thought, wishing you could close your legs rather than making a mess of your underwear (now a lost cause), but Suo’s grip stays firm on your waist.

He, himself, is unbothered by your scolding. “Okay,” he says simply. “Then I won't speak to you as a hostess. I want to speak to you, seriously, as a friend.”

His smile is so disarming, it makes you nervous. But he sounds earnest enough for you to be curious, and anyway, you're desperate for something to distract you from your wet cunt.

“Alright,” you acquiesce, “What do you have to say, as a friend?”

“I just have one question.”

“Sure. Shoot.”

His hand comes to rest in your thigh again. He leans in, breath so hot against your ear that your heart jumps.

“I can accept that you wanted to see customers just to satisfy your urges. But tell me why you didn't come to me first.”

You freeze up. Look at him, wide-eyed.

“Wh-what?”

Suo just smiles. Looks so fucking innocent you wonder if you misheard, but his voice is sharp when he replies: “Let me put it another way. Why have we never slept together?”

For some reason, you’ve never thought that he'd ask you this question point blank, even though you've asked it to yourself many times. It takes you several moments to piece together a response, during which Suo’s expression turns distinctly wicked. A sign that he smells blood.

“Why would you think we would have?” you ask carefully.

“Because we’ve both clearly thought about it. You especially.”

You try to keep a straight face. “No I haven't. I don't know what you're talking about.” You raise a brow. “How would you even know?”

“Because,” he says, hand inching up your thigh, “you’re so wet that I can feel it.”

You're mortified.

Shame floods your body, first because of the accusation, and then because you know it's true. You were tipsy enough not to think about this, but now—sobering up from sheer panic— you're acutely aware of how you've soaked through the fabric beneath you. Something that Suo had certainly known, and chose to encourage.

What a horrible man.

When you don't reply, he tilts his head. “Don't tell me you haven't noticed. Do you want me to show you?”

His hand is moving so slowly, you know he's giving you another out. You could easily get off his lap. You could even slap him and call him a sleazy drunk and grouse at him to go home. You could forgive him in the morning for coming onto you and say he'd obviously made an inebriated mistake, as opposed to a very calculated decision. Your friendship would stay mostly intact. His grip on you might tighten, but that would be fine. You would still get to stay with him.

And that's all you've ever wanted. Just to stay with him.

But you're so wet, so empty, so aching. You want to be touched. You want to be touched by Suo, and only by Suo. You want to be fucked by him, to be owned by him, to be ruined by him. You’ve wanted it so badly and so long that you can't even remember when it started—only that you want it to end.

So instead of moving away, you sit there and endure the humiliation of getting your cunt inspected by him.

Suo hums as he opens your legs. You suppress a whimper as a finger moves along your folds, at the noise it makes as it runs through your slick. “Look, you’re so wet,” he murmurs into your ear. He finds your clit—swollen, neglected, and you whimper as he starts to draw slow, lazy circles around it. “Poor thing.”

“It’s only because you had me grinding on you the whole night,” you say through gritted teeth. “It doesn't—ngh—doesn’t mean I’ve been wanting to fuck you.”

You sound pissed enough that you'd convince anyone else, but you know, even without seeing his face, that Suo can tell you're bullshitting.

“You’re not a good liar,” he remarks. A fine teacher even when humiliating people, Suo can't help but add, “If you have to tell a lie, at least come up with a believable one.”

“What makes it unbelievable?” you reply, words clipped off by a sharp inhale as he starts rubbing your pussy.

“Well,” he starts nonchalantly, as if he isn't toying with your cunt, “after you were targeted in that succession conflict, I put hidden cameras in the area, and also in our suite.”

Your eyes go wide. Even in your aroused state, the implications are making you panic. “You—you what?”

“It was for security purposes,” he dismisses casually, as if he's not admitting to a serious invasion of privacy. “Only near the front door and the common areas. I just wanted to catch intruders and any suspicious behaviour from my men. But imagine my surprise”—you feel his fingers start to press into your cunt—“when I instead caught you fucking yourself on the couch and moaning my name.”

You’re mortified. Humiliated. Mind racing with every instance you were horny and stupid enough to touch yourself in a common space. You think about yelling at him about the cameras, but then you feel two fingers sinking into you, and now you aren't thinking about much at all.

Your mind goes blank as you're stretched open by him. Your cunt is so wet, so empty, but the feeling still makes you whine. Your brow furrows, and you give him a pleading look. Slowly, please.

“Don't worry,” he says in a soothing tone, “I know you can handle this. I've seen you take much bigger. Though”—he shifts, pulls you so you're in between his legs, and now you can feel the length of him against you, hard and aching and huge, what the fuck—“maybe not big enough.”

You tighten around his fingers as he grinds against you. You want him inside you so badly, it hurts. Suo laughs when he feels your desperation, and he sounds so amused that you can't help but feel ashamed. But even more than shame, you feel aroused. You take the rest of his fingers easily, down to the knuckle.

“What the fuck, Suo,” you eventually manage through your panting, though not with much bite. “You weren't—ahh—meant to see any of that.”

“Sorry,” he says, sounding deeply unapologetic. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn't watch much, and I deleted all of it. I didn't need to see that to know you have feelings for me.”

You tense. “What feelings?” you ask, and Suo stops. He pulls his fingers out of you—you breathe sharply at the loss—and manhandles you until you're straddling his lap. Forces you to look at him, into his one eye. It's knife-sharp, brutal, but familiar. You don't struggle, nor do you feel uneasy.

But you do feel like prey.

“Do you remember,” he begins, voice light, “how our master always talked about how important it is to engage with each other’s feelings?”

Fuck.

“No,” you blurt out, and Suo laughs.

“Of course not,” he plays along. “You were always so terrible at it. But I've been doing a bad job too, lately. So”—he reaches beneath your dress, hooks your thong with his fingers—“I wanted to have an honest conversation with you.”

He smiles at you. Actually looks kind and even sounds earnest. What a fucking sociopath. You allow him to slide your underwear down your legs, kicking them off. Now your pussy is completely bare to him, and you can hear the way his breath stops as he touches it again. Three of his fingers push in this time, and you pant openly at the stretch, leaning against him as your body trembles from the stretch. He flexes his fingers experimentally, watching your reactions—your whimpers, your sighs, the way your eyelashes flutter when he brushes that one spot inside you.

“I’ve always had feelings for you,” he starts, using that nonchalant, delicate tone—the specific one that suggests danger, “and I know you’re too smart to have missed that. I’d be fine with it if you didn't return them, but you do.”

“I don't,” you protest, and then his fingers curl and press into your g-spot. You're cut off immediately, gasping at the sudden wave of heat in your belly.

A hand comes up to your chin. He forces you to look at him. “I said I wanted to have an honest conversation, remember.”

“I–I am being honest, I—” Your voice breaks as he starts pumping his fingers. It's slow, gentle, but precise. Tension builds in you at an alarming rate, your thighs getting as slick and messy as his hand. You bury your face into the crook of his shoulder, breathe in his cologne and gasp into his skin, and your mind goes hazy from the euphoria of his touch. Sure, you've hugged Suo before, been held by him before, and god knows you've been touched like this by a ton of other people before—but it feels different now. It feels different when it's Suo who's touching you, different when you’re this close to him while he's drawing all this pleasure out of you. When one hand feels so good inside you and the other one is holding you so intimately.

“Suo,” you whimper, overwhelmed by hot tension in your belly, “I-I’m close, I’m close, oh fuck—

He stops.

Before you can comprehend what's happening, he’s withdrawing his fingers, and all the heat in you is melting away. Your orgasm lost, you come down from your high—nerves frayed, emotions taut.

“Suo,” you say, “what the fuck?”

He gives you a smile. It almost looks nice. “I'm not letting you cum until you tell me the truth.”

You’re going to cry.

You're so wet, so empty, so desperate, and now you feel oddly afraid. You don't like the way he's staring you down. You don't like this line of questioning, this bullshit of engaging with other people's feelings. You’ve never liked it. But you need—need—him to fuck you. You need his fingers inside you and you need to cry into his neck while you finish.

You say, very quietly, “Please, Suo.”

“Please, what?”

It's funny. You've performed begging and crying and submission for countless clients, sometimes during annoyingly rough sessions. You've done it for years. But nothing has ever felt so humiliating as this moment, when you ask your best friend, in the smallest voice possible, “Please touch me.”

“No. Not until you start being honest with me.”

Suo's mouth curls at the devastated look you give him. You hardly even notice that he's adjusting you, having you straddle his thigh again—this time, facing him. You don't register it until your cunt is pressed into the wet spot you left earlier and he's saying, “You can move if you'd like. But I'm not touching you.”

“You’re fucking horrible,” you say with all your heart, but your pussy is throbbing and you're desperate for release. So you finally do what you were desperately trying to stop yourself from doing the whole night—you start grinding on him. Like a fucking animal in heat. It's embarrassing, especially because his leg feels so good against you. The friction on your pussy makes you pant, your eyes squeezing shut as your clit finally gets some pressure. It makes up for the way he’s looking at you, which is sly, handsome, and rage-inducing all at once.

“You really do need to be touched,” he remarks softly. “You said your customers satisfied you. Was that true? Did they properly fuck you?”

“N-no,” you gasp. Your mind feels so cottony now that you're getting some relief. You can barely think, and definitely not enough to lie. “It was—it was—fuck, I never came.”

He hums, satisfied. “There—see? Telling the truth isn't so hard. You can do it again.”

He sounds so condescending. You would ordinarily hate it, but for some reason, it's going straight to your pussy right now, making you drip so much you know you've ruined his pants. You’re getting close, too, just by rubbing yourself on his leg. It doesn't feel quite as good as when his fingers were in you, but it’s something. And it’s making it hard to focus on what he's saying.

“It’s fine if you can't be honest about your feelings,” Suo continues. “Let's assume you're telling the truth, and all you want to do is fuck me. Why haven't you?”

You try to answer him, but you can't. You're too focused on the roll of your hips against his leg. There's too much tension, too much heat. You melt against him again, breathing heavily into his shoulder as you tighten around nothing. His hands come to your waist, as if grounding you, and somehow this makes everything feel even better. You start panting, babbling, I'm close, I'm getting close, Suo, Suo—

His grip tightens, and he stops you in place. You cry in frustration—no tears, but the noise you make is broken.

“Answer my question,” he says. You feel a hand glide along your bare skin, stopping at your inner thigh. “Answer me and I'll touch you.”

“Okay,” you say, as desperate as you are distressed. “Okay, I'll do anything. Anything.”

“Good.” He sounds so pleased.

You put your arms around his neck, for no reason other than you want to. Lifting your hips, you part your legs for him, and you feel so relieved at just the touch of his hand that you sigh—even though all he's doing is running a finger along your slick folds.

You shudder as his fingers play with your sex. Lean your head on his shoulder as he starts to move. You’re so desperate that you start grinding against his hand, whining for him.

“Well, then,” he murmurs. “Tell me why you didn't come to me. This is all you wanted, isn't it?” He rolls your clit between two fingers, making you squirm. “Just to get off, right? I could have done that. You'd have enjoyed it more.”

“It”—your eyelids flutter shut—“it would have been too complicated. Y-you’re my boss, and I pay rent to y-you, and we’ve been friends for so long, I didn't want to make it weird—”

Suo delivers a sharp slap to your pussy.

The contact is so sudden that you yelp. It only stings a little, but it makes your clit ache. The noise it makes is so wet, so filthy, telling of your desperation. And to your shame—even though you have never once in your life enjoyed being handled roughly by your customers—your cunt starts leaking in response.

You whimper, about to burst from frustration. You need to be touched so bad. You need to be touched by him so bad, and you need to cum on his cock or else you'll lose your fucking mind.

“Suo,” you complain, or beg, and you don't even realise that you're tearing up until he swipes his thumb under your eye.

“Try again,” he says gently, but not kindly. “The truth this time, and then I'll make you cum. Why didn't you come to me first? These past few months, or any other time?”

You don't answer him. “Suo, please—” And he moves back so that you're no longer leaning against him. Your lip trembles at the loss of the warmth, which somehow feels worse than the loss of your orgasm. An actual tear rolls down your cheek, and he doesn't wipe this one away.

“Answer me,” he says firmly. Instead of replying, you try to reach for him—wanting to be pressed against his body again, wanting him to draw pleasure out of yours again—but he stills you with his hands.

You feel devastated.

Out of horny, emotional desperation, and an all-consuming need to be fucked, you admit, “I was just scared!”

This is the worst mistake you've ever made.

The minute the words dislodge from your throat, you feel yourself choke up. You don't know why. All you know is that you suddenly can't hold back your tears from your sexual frustration, which for some reason is starting to feel distinctly like a non-sexual kind of angst, which is also strangely painful for your chest.

Because now that you've said it out loud, you can't ignore it.

You want to hide. You want to crawl out of his lap and run out of the establishment. Surely, the mamasan will forgive you for leaving a shift with such a frightening and horrible man, who is currently trying to extort your feelings out of you. But Suo’s grip is solid and unforgiving on you, and all you can do is squirm.

“Scared of what?” Suo asks. His voice has gone soft. Actually soft—not in a way that suggests danger, but a way that suggests you're loved. It makes you tremble.

His arms circle you, and one rubs at your back. It makes you relax very slightly. Or at the very least, it makes you stop wanting to bolt.

“What were you scared of?” he prompts again.

A feeling of defeat washes over you. Suo will figure you out sooner or later. He always does. So you tell him, very quietly, “I was scared that—that you'd leave me.”

You realise that you just stuttered. You stuttered because you're crying. You're actually, genuinely crying. Not from sexual frustration, but because you're just frustrated in general. And miserable. You've been chronically miserable for most of your life, and that misery has had nowhere to go until now.

You press your face into Suo’s shoulder, and he lets you. You breathe deeply in an attempt to stop crying, his cologne washing over you. It's nice, but what feels most comforting is just the scent of him. You're used to it from the days before he'd ever thought about using a fragrance, let alone a fragrance that would bankrupt the average person. It's calming, even when overlayed with ambergris and vanilla. Familiar.

Your breathing evens out a little—but only a little.

“Why would I leave you?” His voice is so kind, patient. More tears bead on your lashes.

“Because you might not want me anymore.” You sound so fragile. Shit, you are fragile. You can't stop the splintering feeling in you, the same one that ate at you two months ago when you thought he was going to leave you. “You could get tired of me or resent me or get bored with me. You could—you could want to throw me away, for no reason. Or—” You breathe in sharply, clinging to him harder.

“Or?”

“Or you could die—you joined the yakuza, so you could die. Why did you do that?” An actual sob leaves you. His shirt is getting wet. You ruined so many of his silk changshan like this in the past, when your boyfriend cheated on you and when your parents kicked you out and when you slept with your fifth customer.

And when your master died.

“I'm still so fucking mad at you for it,” you bite out around your tears. “If you got fucking killed—oh my god, I can't even think about it. I can't—I couldn't take it if—if I kissed you, and we had sex, and then I didn't have you anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re the only thing I have.” You squeeze your eyes shut, a terrible realisation hitting you. “And…”

“And?”

“And,” you say, voice breaking, “I think because I love you?”

You know it as soon as you voice it. You do love him. Not just platonically, but in the way where you want to hold his hand and kiss him and marry him. In the way a miserable nineteen year old girl is so in love with her miserable best friend that she refuses to leave him despite how terrifying he’s becoming. You loved him in this way before you realised you wanted to have sex with him, and even after that, you loved him so much that it didn't matter that he wasn't having sex with you.

You love him so much it disgusts you.

You want to hide, but Suo forces you to look at him. He brushes away your tears, cups your face. The Pavlovian response takes over: your heart rate slows, and you calm down.

“There,” he says gently. “That wasn't so bad, was it?”

He’s wrong. You bet he knows he's wrong. That was objectively one of the worst experiences of your life. You feel wrung out, tenderised. You never thought you'd say any of that. You're not sure you knew most of that.

But in Suo’s arms, plied open with his words and his hands, you actually find yourself shaking your head. You lean into the touch of his palm.

“I love you,” he continues, his tone so authoritative and calm that it leaves no room for doubt, “probably to the point that it should scare you. Do you understand that?”

“Yes,” you say quietly.

“And we won't be separated. I won't allow anything to take you away from me. Do you understand that too?”

You make a noise, halfway between a relieved sigh and another sob. This declaration should not be a surprise from a man who’s effectively locked you up in his house. Still—your heart feels so light when you hear someone say, for the first time in your life, that they’ll stay with you no matter what. It's like Suo has just unearthed a weight that you didn't know you'd been carrying.

“I’ll try,” you reply, voice small.

“Good.” He strokes your cheek. “Do you want to keep going?”

It’s absurd. You just cried and confessed something terrifying. With anyone else, this would be an experience so horrifying that you'd leave right now and never come back. Your sexual desire should not just be gone, but permanently erased. At the very least, you shouldn't feel the slightest bit horny.

But somehow, being gutted by Suo hasn't left you feeling bad. It's left you feeling lighter. Kind of like you've been purged. You feel exhausted, but in a malleable way. Dazed and relieved to be in his lap. Your thighs are still embarrassingly sticky, heart still embarrassingly wobbly, and you just heard him say that he loves you.

Now you want to hear him say it while he's cumming inside you.

“Yeah,” you admit immediately, pathetically. You sniffle.

“You're sure?” Another stroke. “I want to hear you say it clearly. What do you want to do?”

Your dignity is gone. “I want you to fuck me.”

He smiles. A fond hum leaves him. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and you feel a flutter in your belly. “I'll take care of you now.”

He kisses you this time, before he touches you. On the neck, on your jaw. You bare your nape to him, shivering at the feeling of his lips on your jugular, at his nipping teeth on your skin. You realise he's leaving marks, and with each one, you shudder. It feels so intimate. You're on a rooftop bar, in a skanky hostessing dress, crying and strung out—but this is the closest thing you've ever gotten to one of your fantasies about him. Not the nasty ones that you think about when you're home by yourself, but the ones you think of when you're in bed with various salarymen. The ones where you get to lie with him in bed and press your lips to his.

“Suo,” you start.

“Hayato,” he corrects you. “You're my fiancée now, remember? We should be on a first name basis.”

Your stomach flips. “Hayato,” you try again, breathless. “Please.”

He takes a moment to reply, busy sucking another mark into your skin. “Please, what?”

You hesitate. Suo pulls back, looking at you. You whine, feeling shy all of a sudden. You flirt for a living and yet you feel embarrassed about your request. It's humiliating.

“Please, what?” he repeats. His mouth is curled in a smile, and you can't tell whether it's endeared or entertained. “Please let you cum? Please fuck you?”

“Please kiss me,” you say, in a small voice.

Suo pauses.

“What?”

“Please kiss me,” you beg. Close to tears again, for some reason you don't know. You think it surprises him as much as it does you.

It takes him a moment to recover, but when he does, he gives you a look that’s fucking ravenous.

His thumbs away the wetness from your eyes. “You're so cute sometimes. Did you know that?”

You flush. Plenty of customers have called you cute, but none have had you feeling so indignant nor shy.

“I’m not,” you reply, “and stop that.”

“But it's true. And I want you to know it.”

Suo presses his mouth to yours before you can respond. You're so eager for him that you part your lips immediately. Your instinct is to make your first kiss with him messy and desperate, but he’s in full control, and he’s taking his time. His tongue is careful and precise. Full of intention. His lips are slow, languid, and lazy, like he's savouring the taste of you. A hand plays with the strap of your dress. You feel him slide it off your shoulder—the other one quickly follows—but you’re so absorbed in his kiss, you hardly pay attention.

You're vaguely aware of the breeze against your bare chest. One of his hands moving up, feeling out your curves. He hums into your mouth when his fingers ghost over your nipples, and they harden under his touch.

“Suo,” you whine as he teases them, and he pinches one of them, watching as you squirm.

“Hayato,” he corrects you promptly, and you give him a worn, teary look.

“Hayato.”

“Yes?”

“I need more,” you say quietly.

He smiles, clearly enjoying your desperation. “Be patient,” he teases you. “I’m getting there.”

He kisses a line along your jaw, down your neck. Traces your collarbone with the path of his mouth, works his way down to your breasts. At the same time you feel the heat of his tongue on your nipple, his hand reaches between your legs. You're so wet already that he doesn't need to work you open again—just sinks his fingers inside you until you're sighing for him.

You discover that when he's not antagonising you, Suo is frighteningly efficient with pleasuring you. He learns quickly how you like your tits played with, and how to fuck you so well with his fingers until you're gushing around them and keening. He said he'd take care of you, but you think he's mostly forcing all this pleasure from your body for his own enjoyment. There's no other explanation for how he keeps bringing you to the edge and pulling you back, swallowing each of your whines and complaints with his mouth. The only time he isn't kissing you is when you're begging—and you don't miss the way his breathing deepens every time you do.

But no matter how much you beg, he isn’t letting you cum.

“Look at the mess you're making,” he murmurs as he plays with your cunt. You're sitting between his legs again, your back against his chest. You can feel the length of his cock against your ass, and you hear how his breath hitches every time you squirm against it. Except for that one tell, he sounds completely unaffected by what he's doing—forced you to open your legs wide for him, spread your glistening folds to tease you. The leather beneath your ass is wet, ruined by your need.

“Hayato,” you whine.

“Just a little longer,” he promises, “and then I'll let you cum.”

Your mind is so fogged with pleasure at this point that you can't focus on anything other than Suo’s touch. You’ve actually forgotten where you are—not a truly private space, but part of a club. The girls would normally only come up if you put in an order, but you haven't for a while now.

Long enough for someone to check on you without warning.

You tense as soon as you hear the door open. You recognize the server—she knows you well, by face, stage name, and real name. Your eyes go wide as she calls for you. You try to sit up, close your legs, but Suo grabs one of your thighs and forces it open.

“Suo, wait—”

You whimper, incapable of words when his fingers push into you again. He starts fucking you with them, and in earnest this time—curling his fingers until they're pushing into your g-spot, doing it over and over and over. Your eyes roll back and you stop struggling, and Suo takes the opportunity to touch you with his other hand too, playing with your clit. A strangled moan leaves you as the heat in your gut ratchets up. Pleasure swells in your belly; you feel like you're going to burst.

“Suo,” you cry, tears pricking your eyes, “wait, wait, my coworker—wait, I think—I think I'm gonna—”

“Go ahead,” he says into your ear, voice silky, and he pushes against your sweet spot in a way that gives you no choice but to obey him.

You cum so hard that you squirt all over the seat. Your whole body is wracked with intense pleasure—hips bucking violently, legs twitching, crying so loudly and shamelessly that your coworker naturally hears. She catches you spread wide open in Suo’s lap, his fingers deep in your messy, swollen cunt as you drench them.

Her tray clatters to the floor.

Fighting the mindless haze that your body is in, you glance at the other girl, whose hand is over her mouth. She looks appalled. She’s going to yell at you. But then you then watch, in real time, as her eyes travel to your customer’s face and she realises who he is. If she was red when she saw the two of you, she's now a pale white.

“Did you come to check on us?” Suo asks. He sounds amused. She flinches at his voice, and actually takes a step backward. “We’re fine for now. We’ll order something in a bit, and call you up here as usual.”

“O-okay,” she says, voice high and tense. “I—I’ll leave you two, then. Please—please enjoy yourself, sir. We'll be available in case you require any other services.” And she walks away briskly, almost in a run. She doesn't even bother to stop the expressly forbidden act that you're engaged in.

Once she’s gone, Suo allows you some dignity. He pulls his fingers out of you, lets you catch your breath.

“Oops,” he says. “It’s too bad they caught us. I suppose they won't want to keep you on as an employee, since you broke such an important rule.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed. Your emotional and sexual pliability quickly dissipates, replaced by disbelief.

“You—you did that on purpose,” you say between pants, too fucked out to be truly angry, but still appalled.

Suo raises a brow, gives you an innocent look. “Did I? I was just making you cum, like you've been begging all night. It was just unfortunate timing.” He then smiles, which makes him look incredibly kind despite the apparent sadism of his person. “But it's fine. They're going to fire you for this, but you know my club will always take you back.”

You close your eyes and groan. “You’re horrible.”

“I am, aren't I?” Suo puts his arms around you, kisses you on the shoulder, his voice getting low. “But this is a better arrangement, don't you think? You won't need to see customers this way. Every time you need relief, you can come upstairs and I'll give you my cock instead.” He grinds against you, letting you feel how hard he is, and you whimper. He laughs, probably entertained at how desperate you sound. “Or maybe I'll just make you take it whenever I feel like it. I think at the end of every shift makes sense, doesn't it? Since that's how often you've been touching yourself on the couch.”

“S-suo.”

“It’s Hayato now, remember. What is it, dear?”

He sounds so smug, mocking you. You should be furious. But in your fucked out state, all you can focus on is the idea of being forced to take Suo's cock every night. Despite already being ruined, your pussy starts throbbing again. You squirm and press your thighs together, trying to get it to stop—you’re so fucking tired—and you bleakly realise that you can't control your body’s reactions around him. You're getting wet again. It makes you want to cry.

“Hayato,” you whimper, on the verge of tears.

“Ah, you addressed me properly. Good.” He’s so satisfied. “What is it?”

“I…”

“You?”

“I”—your voice is so small and embarrassed, you can hardly believe it—“I want you to fuck me.”

He feigns shock, as if he wasn't actively provoking this. “Really? But you just came.” A hand prods between your legs. You obediently spread them for him, and he checks your pussy with two of his fingers. You moan a little at the intrusion, but there's no resistance at all.

Your cunt, still dripping, tightens around him, and he laughs softly.

“You really do need a cock in you. Who knew you had such a needy pussy.” He curls his fingers. Probably feeling the way it makes you gush, delighting in the gasp it draws out of you. “No wonder you have to use that toy every day.”

You're about to die of embarrassment. “Hayato. Please just fuck me.”

Suo turns you so that you can look at him. He’s wearing a kind, benevolent face when he says, “No.”

“...what?”

“I'm not going to give you my cock.” He hums, contemplative. “Not for a while, I think.”

“B-but,” you say, genuinely upset, “but you were just talking about doing that at work.”

“Sure—after we get married. It's only proper, don’t you think?”

“What?” Your eyes are wide in disbelief. “You—you just made me cum with your fingers. In a public space.”

“Yes. But that's different from letting you have my cock. It wouldn't be gentlemanly of me to do that before we’re wedded.” He can't keep the amusement out of his voice as he bullies you. “I'm sure you can wait until the summer, right? Since that's the season you chose for us. August, I think you told Nirei.”

“Hayato—”

“Actually,” he muses, easily sliding a third finger into you, making your voice clip off in a whimper, “I think you shouldn’t be allowed to have anything in you until then. Except for my fingers and tongue, of course. But no toys, and no other men either. That definitely wouldn't be proper.”

“I'm going to,” you say spitefully—and tearfully. “If you don't fuck me right now, I will sleep with other people.”

“I don't think you want to find out the consequences if you do.”

“How would you even—ngh—know?”

“Good question.” He starts pumping his fingers, and to your horror, your cunt needily swallows them with each motion, your body as desperate as he's been saying. “I guess I'll need to check your pussy every night. See if it's been stretched out by someone else’s cock. Maybe upstairs in the lounge at the end of each night, so I'll know that you haven't fucked a customer during a shift. Clearly, it's not impossible that you would.”

You try not to sob. Not only are his words utterly humiliating, they're making you wetter. After fucking so many people in so many ways, you didn't know it was possible for you to feel this much shame during sex—but then again, shaming people is one of Suo’s specialties.

You give him the teariest look possible, because by now you've figured out that he likes seeing you cry. Sadistic motherfucker. You're happy to use it to your advantage though.

He gets that hungry look in his eye again. “Please, Hayato,” you beg, voice trembling with need, “I want more. I thought I was your beautiful wife already.” You grind your ass against his cock, and he inhales sharply. “Don't you wanna cum in your wife’s pussy?”

Suo stops, deeply affected—just as you guessed he'd be. After making you his fake wife in both his criminal life and his civilian one, it's painfully obvious that the man is obsessed with marrying you. You'd make fun of him if you weren't so horny. Or humbled.

He only allows himself speechlessness for a second. He hums soon after, delicately wiping the tears out of your eyes. “You've been good enough that I guess I can reward you. I won't fuck you, but”—he shifts away, and you can hear his pants unzipping—“I’m sure you'll enjoy yourself anyway.”

Suo wasn't lying earlier. His cock is bigger than any toy you've ever used. It's pretty, too. Curved and long and flushed at the head. Glistening with prespend, which has pearled up at the tip. You think you might be salivating. For a minute, you contemplate asking if you can feel it in your throat, but then Suo’s lying down and moving you on top of him. When his cock nudges at your folds, you can’t help your excitement. You squirm, trying to sink onto his length.

His grip tightens on your waist, stopping you.

You’re about to whine at him about this, but he doesn't give you the chance. “If you try to ride me,” he says, in a voice so cold that you know he's not joking, “I'm not touching you until we’re married, and I'm not letting you touch yourself either.”

“...”

With anyone else you'd call bullshit, but you know that Suo is both crazy and petty enough to actually achieve this.

“Okay.” You sound and feel mollified. “I'll behave.”

He smiles. “Good,” he says cheerfully. “Just stay like that, then. I’ll take care of you.”

You listen to him, mostly because you're incredibly excited about getting pussy inspections and you'll be devastated if it doesn't happen. And you don't expect it to be a big deal, anyway. While your sex drive has been a constant source of grief for you throughout your life, you don't really have problems controlling any specific impulses in bed when you truly need to. You’re used to giving your customers whatever they want and, if you're lucky, getting off from it. You figure this will be the same.

You find out very quickly that it isn't.

You need to stay still. You can’t sink down on him. Two easy orders that are extraordinarily difficult when Suo is the one beneath you. You have to actively stop your hips from moving when you feel the silky head of his cock press into your folds, which are still dripping with your slick. Suo’s breath hitches when he runs the tip along your opening, drawing wet noises every time his cock head catches on your needy hole, smearing his precum all over it. All you want is to push back on him and let your pussy swallow his cock. You’re aching for it, and you know he is too. If you sank down on him now, he'd lose control and fuck you raw until he was cumming inside you. And then he'd probably keep going after that, not letting you move until you were stuffed full and dripping with his spend. Both of you know it.

But you don't do that. You're good for him. You sigh, just trying to enjoy the feeling of his length rubbing against you. How he's twitching and throbbing against you, how he wants as equally much to be inside you—but pulls back every time. Your mind goes a little fuzzy with the drawn out, low hum of pleasure, and you close your eyes.

Then he starts pushing into you.

“H-Hayato?” You whimper at the intrusion, at being made to take something so thick without warning. “I thought you weren't gonna—”

“I'm not,” he says. His breathing is heavier, his words strained, but his voice is still commanding when he says, “Don’t move.”

Suo doesn't give you the whole thing, just the tip. It is much harder to control yourself like this—when you can feel yourself getting stretched by the head of his cock, already so fat and heavy, but you don't get filled up by it. It makes you aware of how empty you are, and how wet you're getting. You bury your face into his neck and make a noise that's both tearful and pathetic.

It's not acting when you whine, in a watery, miserable way, “Please, Hayato. I need your cum in me.”

It's probably the crying that gets him. He inhales sharply, thrusting maybe a little deeper than intended. You groan at the extra inch of cock, eyes rolling back, and can't help the way your pussy tightens and drips, trying to suck him in.

“Fuck,” he says, and then he pulls out.

He lays you flat on your back. Before you can get so much as a word out, he's between your legs and pressing his cock against your entrance. For possibly the happiest moment of your life, you think Suo is going to fuck you—but instead he starts pushing the slick head of his cock right against your neglected clit.

You aren't going to complain.

You whimper as he starts rubbing against your sex, leaving his prespend all over your swollen bud. It makes you squirm, grinding yourself against it, and you press your legs together to get some more pressure for the both of you. Soon his cock is sliding between your thighs, getting them all sticky with his prespend. You can feel the length of him hot and slick against your folds, heavy and throbbing.

You've never cum like this before. It was never enough stimulation when your customers made you do this, which nearly all of them have. But the pressure on your clit and on your folds is shockingly intense as the two of you move, enough to make you whimper as a familiar tension builds. It's not as overwhelming as when his fingers were inside you, but it's enough for you to start panting at the tension in your belly. You can hear Suo’s breath picking up as you start to whine, and he watches you, almost predatorial, as another orgasm crashes over you. You moan his name as you cum, squeezing a few more tears out of your eyes.

He stares at your flustered, wet face as he pushes the head of his cock against your entrance again, fisting himself as it flutters and drips in the aftershock of your orgasm. Suo’s been hard for so long, for the whole time he's teased and bullied you—you aren't surprised at how close he already is. Especially not when you start talking about how much you need his cum in you, how empty your pussy feels without it, how badly you want your husband to fill you up. All with your mascara smeared and your lip trembling, a sight that makes him throb.

Suo groans as he finally cums. You can feel his cock twitching, warmth spurting out onto your folds, and then into your pussy as he thrusts shallowly into you. You pull him down needily as he fills you, and he indulges you with a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss.

When he pulls out, you can feel his cum drip out of you, all the way down to the couch. You make a happy noise at the mess he's made of your hole, giving him a lovestruck, dreamy expression.

“You should do that every night after you're done checking my pussy,” you sigh.

Suo’s mouth curls, and breathes out a kind of laugh. He holds your face, and one of his tassels brush against the shell of your ear as he presses his forehead to yours. “I’ll do it if you're good for me.”

“I’ll be on my best behaviour until our wedding night,” you promise, voice affectionate.

Suo gives you a fond look. His expression is so sentimental. You think he’s going to say something sweet.

“Alright,” he replies. “Then be good for me and keep the rest of that inside you, okay? Let’s not make a mess of these floors. I don't want to get blacklisted from this club.”

You open and close your mouth, completely speechless.

“You're fucking horrible,” you say with all your heart, and he laughs and kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you. He doesn't stop until you're placated and horny again.

Suo takes his sweet time pushing his cum into you as deeply as possible, saying that it's to make sure you don't lose any of it, but really so he can draw another orgasm out of you. Knowing that the mamasan might take pity on you and think that you were coerced into degrading sexual acts by a terrifying yakuza client, he makes sure to order a drink beforehand, calling up a server. (I don't want to be a bad patron, he hums as he looks at the tablet, and I said I'd get you to the number 1 ranking, right?) It subsequently looks, sounds, and is completely consensual when you're found pulling at Suo’s hair, keening as he fingers his cum into you while sucking on your clit.

This leaves you with no hope of continued employment on all of Keisei Street.

To add insult to injury, you do make a mess of the floors, despite Suo’s conscientious efforts to avoid this—though it's not as bad as the one you left on the couch. You also can't find your thong anywhere, which you guess is something else that the mamasan won’t appreciate when she finds it. Still, for the rest of the night, everyone shows Suo nothing but the utmost respect and highest quality customer service. They even ask how he found your company and if he has any feedback for you. He praises your conversational skills, karaoke abilities, and how capable you were in catering to his many needs. He also lets them know that you'll be resigning.

Hanzo and Shuuhei are waiting to pick you up, bringing the Rolls Royce with the privacy suite. This time, Suo doesn't use it to interrogate you; he instead uses it to kiss you and tease you and discuss wedding plans. If it'll be indoors or outdoors. If you'll have a big reception or a small one. If it'll be a traditional wedding, or if you’ll want a Chinese one like the one your master would have maybe liked to see. You settle on having a Shinto ceremony and a Chinese-style reception. Having been raised Chinese, whenever Suo imagined marrying during his teenage years, you were always in a red qipao. His master even once told him that if he managed to win your heart, he'd organise a tea ceremony and act in the role of Suo’s father.

After disclosing these facts (the first of which makes your heart weak, and the second of which leaves it aching), he asks about any long-standing things you've always wanted to do with him as a couple. If you had any silly or indulgent daydreams about your future with him, and what they were like.

“I don't know,” you admit. “I guess after you applied to teacher’s college, I liked the idea of marrying you, and doing all the domestic things you talked about. Though you were just joking at the time.”

You don't really expect him to remember much about this particular line of teasing. Sure, the man is currently obsessed with marrying you, and maybe he daydreamed about it a little bit when he was younger—but he mostly treated the idea as a funny joke when he was a teenager. All of the teasing has probably blurred together for him over the years. Certainly, it has for you.

But you've never been able to forget this particular memory. It’s one of those small, inconsequential moments that you find yourself incapable of letting go to this day. You loved hearing him talk about getting married, even though it hurt immensely that it was probably just teasing. You loved it because you wanted it. You wanted Suo to teach people because you knew he was good at it and it would make him genuinely happy. You wanted to stop working in the red light district and make a nice and safe home for Suo, just as he'd made a nice and safe home for you. And you wanted to marry him and kiss him and have sex with him and only him for the rest of your life.

You wanted it so badly, it still makes you heart ache to think about it.

He was definitely just teasing you, though. Suo was a sane person at the time, and sane people do not actually plan a marriage and life with someone before dating them or even fucking them. Most importantly, a sane person wouldn't hold onto such a silly joke for so long. Oh, you expect him to say, laughing. You're right, I had nearly forgotten.

But all he does is give you a smile. It's one of his strange, enigmatic ones.

“No, I was quite serious about it,” Suo says, looking right at you.

You stare at him.

“Really?”

“Really.”

He's being so straightforward, so earnest. Your typical reaction would be to feel flustered, sentimental—but something about his expression and tone bothers you. But before you can suss out what it is, he continues, and the moment passes.

“Was there anything else you ever wanted to do?” he asks smoothly.

You're startled, off-guard. “Oh, um… not really. I never let myself think too much about it.”

“Come on,” he prods. “There must be something.”

“No, I really didn't think of any ideas on my own. Although…”

Your face gets hot as you trail off. Suo senses weakness, and goes in for the kill.

“Although?”

“It's too embarrassing,” you admit, looking away, and Suo looks a little too interested as he pesters you for an answer.

“Come on, it's fine.” His mouth curls in a way that tells you it's not fine. “I promise I won't judge you. I just want to know what I can do to make you happy as your husband.”

You give him an uncertain look, and say your only concrete fantasy about him so quickly and quietly that he misses it.

“Pardon?” he asks.

“...romantic, vanilla sex.”

Suo blinks. “What?”

Your face burns with humiliation.

“I used to think about having romantic, vanilla sex with you. When I was a teenager. A lot.” Said as if you weren't just thinking about it two months ago in a love hotel, and still don't want it now. You wouldn't even bring it up if you didn't think it was necessary. But unfortunately, you're professionally skilled at perceiving people’s sexual interests, and you've perceived that Suo is sexually a freak. He was definitely going easy on you tonight, and is probably actively planning to get worse. You'll never have normal sex with him unless you explicitly state a desire for it.

Suo gives you a surprised look. “That's… a very mundane fantasy.”

“It wouldn't have been mundane to me,” you reply, somewhat defensively. “I used to think about it when I slept with my customers, who weren't very romantic. Or vanilla. So I didn’t really have a good reference point or anything for that kind of sex, but sometimes I still thought about doing it with you after they had left.”

You look away after saying this, wondering why you disclosed all of that. It certainly wasn't necessary for your dream of someday taking Suo’s cock without being psychosexually tortured first. Now you feel like you need to hide. You even think about excuses for stopping the car, and ponder again how difficult it would be to live without proof of identity, if you chose to run away.

But Suo doesn't let you run. He pulls you close to him, wrapping you up in his warmth.

“It's okay,” he says gently, in a voice that reminds you of how he was in his old Furin days. “You'll be okay. I'll make sure of it.” It confuses you deeply, and you turn to ask him what the fuck he's going on about.

You don't even realise you're crying until he starts kissing away your tears.

You can’t understand why you’re weeping. Maybe something strange and hormonal happened while you were having sex, like Suo made you orgasm too hard and all the oxytocin is making you depressed now. Though you think that hormone is supposed to make you happy. You're not sure. You never finished school, so you wouldn't know.

Whatever the reason, you hastily wipe away your tears. A hand rubs at your back, and you let yourself press your face into his shoulder.

“Sorry,” you say quickly.

“Don't apologise. You don't have anything to be sorry for.”

You hesitate as you breathe against the silk threads of his shirt, thinking about how many of his shirts you've ruined with your tears. At least three changshan and one Versace summer piece, by your count. It’s not like he hurts over the money these days, but guilt tugs at your heart.

“I don't know about that,” you mumble into his shoulder. And it takes a while to work yourself up to saying it, but eventually you whisper, with full honesty, “I'm sorry for always worrying you.”

“I know,” Suo says. He sounds sincere when he says, “I’m sorry too.”

“I’ll try to be better from now on.”

“You will be. And even if you aren’t, that's fine.”

For some reason, that makes your heart squeeze.

You melt against Suo after that, listening to the steady roll of tires and passing traffic outside. There's a gentle pitter patter of rain against the car roof, tinny and rhythmic, that gradually crescendos into a proper storm. The windshield wipers squeak against the glass. All of the noise is lulling you into a kind of peace, or maybe you're just feeling that way because Suo is holding you.

Fatigue wears your consciousness, and you close your eyes. The hustle and bustle of the red light district grows distant, faint—partly from slipping in and out of your dreams, and partly from the quieting world outside. It's now completely silent other than the heavy rainfall. You think they must be taking the road through Makochi. Suo asks for it whenever he wants you to sleep well.

He probably thinks you're asleep when he says, “I’m sorry for being how I am now.”

You almost stop breathing. Almost.

“You didn't fall in love with me when I was like this, so you must not like it very much,” he continues. “I know that Master wouldn't like me much either, if he were alive. He always said that you should support your loved ones until they can stand on their own two feet. But lately, I feel like all I've been doing is breaking yours.”

He sighs. The sky groans with distant thunder.

“Sakura knows who I really am, you know,” he says quietly. “I think he's worried about what'll happen to you if we get married. Though he’s been worried about you for a while.” Suo almost sounds endeared when he adds, “Did you know he only texts me now to ask if you're okay? He really does love you.”

He’s more sombre when he continues, “But Nirei is just afraid of me. That’s why he’s never around. He’s going to call you in a week and tell you not to go through with the wedding. He’ll probably tell you to leave me too. It’s good advice.”

It's hard to keep your breathing slow, with how badly your heart hurts.

“I’ve tried to go back to how I was, to the kind of person that Master was trying to raise,” Suo confesses. “But I don't think I can get better.”

But even if you can't, you want to tell him, that’s fine. You wish you could hold him how he's always held you.

“It doesn't usually upset me nowadays,” he admits after some time, “how I am now. But to be honest, talking about our school days did make me feel bitter, because I can't give you the things I know you wanted.”

He kisses the top of your head. Gently, so as not to wake you from your dream.

“I'm sorry I never became a teacher. I'm sorry I joined the yakuza. I'm sorry I can't give you a normal life. And I'm sorry I can’t have an honest conversation with you.”

Silence. You feel his chest stop briefly, his breathing deepen.

“Maybe someday, I'll get better enough to say these things to you while you're awake. Maybe someday, I'll even get better enough to let you leave. It would be best for you.”

His voice gets even softer. Tender.

“But for now, I don't know how to let you go.”

You feel a hand shifting away, the soft noise of leather against skin. Then both arms around you again, even warmer, even tighter. He’s leaning his head against yours. You think Suo is falling asleep.

Allowing yourself a single, quick glance at the car, you peer at your reflections in the rearview mirror. You see sheets of rain sliding against the back window, his dark lashes pressed to his skin, and all the scar tissue he likes to keep hidden away.

And you can see, very clearly, tears beneath his missing eye.

END 'TOKYO VICE'

hi everyone thanks for reading this chapter!!!! i hope it didn't disappoint after all the shitposting i did about it this week lol

can i just say. this was straight up the weirdest sex scene I've ever written HASLKFJSDF and the mood whiplash throughout this was probably the craziest i've ever written within a single piece. unfortunately, this reader copes with her trauma via humour and sex and it really shows rip. i hope it wasn't too offputting!

thank you to everyone who left a comment on part 1!! please do let me know if you enjoyed part 2 as well. <333

tagging @kweenkatsuki-fics and @stuckindreamland06!

#hayato suo x reader #suo hayato x reader #wbk x reader #windbre x reader #wind breaker x reader #wind breaker smut #suo hayato smut

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osachiyo · 8 months

Text

✧˚ 𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐄𝐗 — dazai, chuuya, akutagawa, atsushi & tetchou .ೃ࿐

˚➶ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — female reader, n/sfw content (mdni), fluff + crack some of y'all will get second hand embarrassment, prolly the only thing i'll write about period sex, breaking the bed, spicy cunnilingus, accidental anal, reader hits her head in one of these but dw it's fine, overall just some silly stuff ! wc for each character is like 300-400 words long :) not proofread !

˚➶ 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 — i've been putting this off for too long 💀 anyways, happy reading and enjoy ! also is it tetchou or tecchou idfk how to spell this dude's name 😭

"Nghh - fuuck— you're s'good at this, angel—" Dazai moaned, encouraging you to bounce on him faster. He had you in reverse cowgirl— watching your ass bounce on his pelvis as you jumped up and down on his cock, desperately trying to chase that release you've been working for.

"Feels— feels so g-good!" You cried out, pretty nails digging into his thigh, making him let out a pornographic moan - which made you clench on him even more.

Dazai groaned, grabbing handfuls of your ass and spreading them apart to see the mouthwatering view of your cunt greedily swallowing his cock. That's when he saw little streaks of blood coating his cock - mixed with your slick and his precum... and he realized that you must be starting your period.

If Dazai was being completely honest - he didn't really care about the blood, and no way he was stopping right now— when you're riding him so deliciously and looking so fucking sexy while doing it - he'd be insane (like he isn't already) if he were to stop you now. Plus, he didn't want you to get embarrassed— no, that's the last thing he wanted.

He definitely told you after sex, though. He was like, "oh yeah, you're on your period, by the way." It kind of shocked you how casual he was about it - which he noticed, of course. He'd laugh at your bewildered face, chuckling as you ask him if he's not grossed out. He'd wave you off, "sweetheart, do you think i'm a boy? Trust me, a little bit of blood doesn't bother me."

You were about to reply when a cramp hit you straight in the guts - making you hiss out and curl into yourself in pain. Dazai frowned, quickly sitting next to you to brush your hair out of your face - "you alright, sweet girl?" You groaned in response, "mm - yeah, j-just these damn period cramps are killing me."

Dazai pretended to think for a bit, even rubbing his finger on his chin to add the extra effect, making you roll your eyes at his silly antics. he looked deep in thought for a moment until you heard him snapping his finger, pointing at you with a wink - "aha! I know exaaactly how to get rid of your cramps." Your eyebrows pinched together at his words, knowing it's gonna be something dumb.

"Let's go for another roun— oumph!" You threw a pillow at him, resulting him falling backwards on his butt. "I knew you were gonna say that!" You groaned, kicking your legs - snickering at the way he rubs his bottom. "Gosh, you are just the meanest, aren't you?" He whined - making you giggle, "oh? well, that would make you the horniest!"

"Hey! I was serious - it really works— oumph!"

You were currently face-down, ass-up on Chuuya's lavish bed— as he pushed your face further into the pillow, cunt greedily sucking his fat cock in. He didn't even bother with taking off your clothes— just ripping them and grumbling about buying you new ones when you went to protest.

"Argh— shhiiiit- takin' m-me s'well, babydoll," growling, he pulled you up by your hair - back against his chest and fuck, you could feel him in the deepest part of you - hammering inside of your puffy pussy while reaching a free hand to play with that tiny clit. "Chuuya— C-chuuya!" You squealed, face landing on the pillow with an "oof!" as he pushed you back against it. "S-shut it, fu—ck! 'yer so tight," he almost whimpered, hand untangling itself from your hair to pinch and tweak at your nipples - before landing a mean smack on your ass.

He was speeding up - almost at an inhuman pace, as the headboard continuously slammed against the wall. But the both of you failed to notice the cracking noise - too lost in the pleasure, before the bed came crashing down.

'fuck, you're doin' so good ba— whAT THE FUCK—?!" Chuuya screeched as you both fell on the floor along with the broken bed. "Shit - are you okay, baby?" He quickly checked you for any injuries— only to see that you were still dazed, your mouth agape and eyes glossed over— too cockdrunk to even process that the bed broke.

“Argh— fuck it,” he thought, just going back to pounding your cunt as if it didn’t just break down. Making his pretty girl gush all over him was way more important— and plus, he could easily buy another bed.

You scolded him after getting your back blown out. But he couldn’t care less, if he was being completely honest.

In reality, it actually turned him on even more— his new goal from now on is breaking the bed everytime while fucking - from the sheer force of it. So um.. goodluck walking..?

You were cuddled up on the couch with your boyfriend of 6 months, watching a cute movie when you suddenly felt something stiff poking against your ass— how cute, you thought - biting your lip as you ground back against him, earning a sharp gasp from Atsushi.

Things escalated from that to you being on top of him— fervently making out, shy fingers digging into the plush of your hips as you continued grinding on his dick— moaning into each other's mouths.

Eventually you ended up on your back, with Atsushi rutting into you fast and hard as you threw your head back. He was inexperienced— but you had to say, what he lacked in technique, he made up for in enthusiasm. His face was buried in your neck, letting out puffs of hot air as he suppressed the urge to bite down on your shoulder and mark you up— he didn't want to hurt or scare you off.

"Oh— god, 'sushi that feels so—" you moaned, lips parting as you silently begged for a kiss - to which he gladly complied. "Fuck— yes, s'good—!" Atsushi moaned, eyes rolling back slightly as you clamped down on him further, you were close and so was he.

But somehow, he managed to slip out of your tight cunt— making him whine and quickly try to push it back in, desperate to feel your warm walls around him again. He slipped in with some issues— it felt like you had gotten tighter but he didn't mind. Holy shit though, it felt so much warmer and tighter no— "OW OW—! ATSUSHI!"

He immediately jumped upon hearing your pained shriek, "what's wro—" "Pull out - right now!" You sneered, glaring at him as he complied. "That was the wrong hole— you idiot!" You scolded, but your gaze got softer when you saw him sulking - he didn't mean to hurt you!

"I- I'm so sorry— it just accidentally slipped out a-and then I tried to push it back in and—" he was speaking really fast, trying his best to explain himself before you put your hand up, palm against his chest.

"I get it— sorry for yelling at you," you sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck as you climbed onto his lap. He nodded, still sulking because he felt so guilty— god, he just can't do anything righ—

"Don't beat yourself up for it, okay? It wasn't your fault," you spoke as if you could read his mind, making him relax his tensed shoulders as he nodded.

..You two just decided to continue the movie and cuddle the night away.

Akutagawa had you backed up against some large shelves inside a storage room, while you two were on a mission. He'd normally prefer to have you somewhere else— somewhere more private and comfortable but you just had to be a damn tease the whole fucking day, and now he's finally got his hands on you.

"So— fucking— desperate—" each word that fell from his chapped lips were accompanied by a mean thrust, the tip of his cock brushing against that one spot inside of your walls. He had you completely trapped against the large set of shelves with rashōmon— leaving you with no ways to escape him. "Haah— d-did a little bending g-get you this worked u-up?" You added fuel to the fire— making his right eye twitch in annoyance, what a lousy mouth you had.

He said nothing, though— only speeding his pace up, as heavy breaths and pants left him— an unusual flush spread across his cheeks. "You really— shit!— d-don't know when to shut the fuck up," he growled, as a pale hand found your tits— slapping the jiggling fat before landing a harsh slap to each.

Your back arched with each pound of his hips into your gooey cunt— both of you feeling lightheaded from the pleasure circulating through your veins. So lightheaded in fact, you both somehow failed to notice the heavy book on top one of the shelves inching closer and closer towards the very edge— a small impact against the wood would most likely make it fall.

"oh— AkuOWW—!" And fall it did— right on top of your head before it bounced off and fell on the floor. You yelled in pain, the dull pain making you head throb. Akutagawa just...paused— eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights. He didn't know what to say— should he ask if you're okay? He's never been good at this stuff — so he just.. kinda... stood there and stared.

Made sure you're alright after he was over the initial shock, though — telling you that you should've seen it coming, earning him a few curses from you.

Tetchou had you spread on the couch, strong hands holding your thighs against your chest, giving him a perfect view of the soaked cunt he was about to devour.

"You look so pretty between my legs," you cooed, running your fingers through his burgundy locks. "Yeah? Well, I wish you could see my view, gorgeous girl," he spoke while nibbling the insides of your thighs— placing sloppy, open mouthed kisses wherever his lips could reach. His face was lightly flushed pink — your praises always made him hot and bothered, it encouraged him to do even better — make you feel even better.

A small moan caught in your throat when your boyfriend slowly peeled away the slick-soaked panties from your juicy cunt, pulling them down your legs before flinging them off somewhere. The cold night air hitting your bare sex made you try to clench your thighs back together — but to no avail, as Tetchou kept them apart firmly. He felt himself salivating at the sight of your exposed cunt — wanting to dive right in.

And dive right in he did, licking a fat stripe up your cunt, collecting your juices on his tongue before smearing them all over your clit, feeling your thighs shake and tummy clench at the stimulation. "Don't hold them back f'me," he let out a muffled grunt. "Your moans — don't hold 'em back," he clarified, before shamelessly shaking his head back and forth on your cunt — causing you to arch your back as your fingers tightened their grip on his hair.

"A-ah, Tetchou—" you threw your head back with a whine, trying to lift your hips up to grind into his mouth, to which he responded to by pushing you even further into the couch, "don't move," he panted, basically growling into your pussy. He couldn't help but hump into the couch — way too turned on by your pleasure.

It was all going great — amazing even, until you felt a light burn on your cunt, confusion lacing all your features. It didn't take long for the burning sensation to build up — the pleasure slowly disappearing, as discomfort kicked in.

"W-wait — Tetchou," you panted, trying to pull his head away from your aching (literally) cunt. Tetchou only growled in response, latching onto your pussy harder — you knew better than to interrupt him during a meal.

But it fucking burned! So you just yelled out, "it burns!" And felt him immediately pause — slowly lifting his head from the spot between your thighs and looking utterly confused, "what?"

"I — I don't know, but my pussy fucking burns," you snapped, worry laced all over your features.

Then suddenly, a look of realization mixed with mortification fills your boyfriend's face. You cocked an eyebrow at him, "what is it?"

"... I forgot I ate those... spicy noodles and... some of the sauce was probably still on my lips...."

©sachiyoh— do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated♡

tags ・ @hopefulpain @inkmooon @constant-existential-terror @nda-approval @mellieellie @seiiushi @lynxxyyy @kentopedia

@sorasushik1 @himebwrries @nopethenope @neviex @fyodorisbbg @stygianoir @saharei @x-lunawrites-x @munnaitorei @emyyy007 @dearhoney-31 @the-foreigner @angoisfine @osaemu @honeycombflowers-blog @yuiiasathesilly @kaithegremlin @sukiischaotic @squigglewigglewoo @cupidszvlvr @ashthemadwriter-archived @bloobewy @mrs-bakugou @hauntedsol @ask-me-or-not @hanakotateyama @kissesmellow21 @dazaichuuya69 @xxsilverjackalxx @gettinshiggywithit @deaths-presence @sugaredpersimmon @rjssierjrie @iheartpieck @angelof-darkness @dazaisimpletmereadfanficspls @hellokitty-4-lele @scinclaitnoir @aly-insanity @kemis-world @bisexuawolfsalt @thateldribitch

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wtfsteveharrington · 4 months

Text

c l o s e t o y o u | carmen berzatto x reader

we've got so much history baby

description: set months after your breakup, you and carmen navigate what it means to be separated. you're trying to move on but waves always return to the ocean.

warnings: kinda angsty but also hurt/comfort. mutual pining even tho you're both trying to pretend it isn't there. miscommunication. kinda mentions of cheating if you squint but not really. no one has cheated but what to call this vibe irdk so! also mentions of using the bathroom if that bothers you!! it's quick!

smut warnings: oral/fingering reader receiving, spanking, dirty talk, hints of dom!carmy, unprotected sex but backshots for 'safety', sexting, semi public sex, lots of hickies/bruises talk bc carmy's a lil shit, multiple mentions of masturbation for both, reader has a drunk bar make out phase post breakup. reader is afab but no major descriptors used.

word count: almost 9.2k. the longest thing i've written so far!

a/n: dare i say this might be my favorite thing i've written possibly. aiming to make this a three part series but possibly could go longer.... i hope you enjoy <3

maybe you and i were meant to be / maybe i'm crazy

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✮‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Carmen’s eyes are trained on you from the second your front door opens. His hands stalled halfway through taking off his jacket, only one shoe clattering across your entryway.

“Where’ve you been tonight?”

Which you have no choice but to shoot him a warning glance in response. It was late, you didn’t have the energy for a fight and that’s the complete opposite reason of why you texted him to come over. “I was on a date, Carmen.”

He physically deflated at your answer. “Oh.”

You can’t meet his eye, can’t risk seeing his reaction. Would he be upset? Indifferent? It’s hard to decide which would be worse.

When you had broken up a few months ago the roles were clear - A case of ‘right person, wrong time’. He was busy, so endlessly busy. Working late into the night and heading in randomly during the morning or afternoon if he was needed. Which he could easily decide he was.

For as long as you could remember Carmen always took Tuesdays off to spend with you and get life in order. That way he had Monday to help the restaurant recover from the weekend and could trust them to handle what was, usually, an easier day. It was a tradition you took seriously and the two of you regularly made plans together every single Tuesday. Date nights, day trips, a mixture of adventures. It didn't matter what you were doing together so long as you had Tuesday to look forward to and help get you through the week.

Yet things started picking up. More celebrity dining requests, more magazine and tv interviews, more, more, more.

And it wasn’t that you misunderstood how important the restaurant was. Far from it. There were many nights where Carmen would come home a ball of anxiety because it took an hour longer than he anticipated and he knew it wasn’t fair to you. There would be a mess of apologies as he barreled in the door, bracing himself for a fight or to see your disappointed face. All of which you happily soothed by repeating constant mantras - The restaurant was his baby; you weren’t upset; take a deep breath; we’re okay.

Then eventually you stopped saying you weren’t upset, stopped saying you two were okay. Eventually you stopped waiting up for him at all. At first Carmen would shower and climb into bed, confused if he should attempt to hold you or not. Your sleeping (Fine, sometimes you faked being asleep too) frame with your back turned to him. The blankets pulled tight around your body acting like a shield.

Finally he just started sleeping on the couch.

So yeah, the fall apart came quick. It was an avalanche neither of you could control nor did either of you want. There was still love between the two of you - But again it’s the right person, wrong time.

You avoided each other for the following weeks. Carmen threw himself even more into work and you took a week of PTO to go visit one of your friends. He wondered if you were safe, you wondered why none of the people in the bar tasted the way he did. Your friend encouraged you with every sloppy make out conquest but it always ended there. You wanted to get Carmen out of your mind but weren’t ready for him to not be the last person who fully touched you.

It didn’t work but does it ever?

Carmen watched your Insta far more than he should have. Risking way too many glances down at his phone during his free time to see if there were any updates about how you were doing. As if you’d post photos with long captions that mimicked a therapy session but he didn’t know where else to go. Sydney would report back what your story shows no matter how much Carm insisted he didn’t care.

Because he didn’t, okay? He was fine. He knew it was for the best. Right?

And then you posted a photo of yourself in a low cut top laughing in a bookstore. He zoomed in to see what titles you had in your arms as if they were clues and his eyes definitely didn’t linger on the swell of your cleavage. He didn’t think about how many nights he took for granted watching as your back arched up under him and you begged for more. He didn’t think about the way you’d crawl into bed at night and his mind would instantly rid itself of anything but you. He didn’t jack off to memories of you in the shower every morning because thinking about someone else, watching porn of other people, it didn’t feel wrong. No, that wasn’t the case at all.

You, on the other hand, turned on Google alerts for anything relating to The Bear or Carmen “Carmy” Berzatto. Most of it was just good Yelp! ratings or fluff pieces from the local papers. He wasn’t one for posting on social media, in fact you weren’t sure he used it at all but you still posted like he was, but sometimes you’d find yourself scrolling through Sydney’s feed to see if she was giving you any crumbs. Sometimes, if you were really desperate, you’d find yourself in Richie’s feed even. It was pathetic but you can’t help it.

One late night you came across an Instagram story post Sydney had up. Carmen leaning against a pinball machine at some gaming bar downtown. His hair was pushed back, eyes crinkled up with laughter. He looked at ease, peaceful. You wondered if anyone there felt the same… Was someone whispering to their friends and trying to build the encouragement up to go talk to him? Would he respond?

Right, it wasn’t your place to care anymore. Yet you still cried yourself to sleep and yearned for when things felt so much easier.

Yeah, the breakup wasn’t exactly going well.

A few weeks ago you came across Carmen at the grocery store of all places. Both of you had gotten so used to doing the shopping Tuesday mornings and, logically, you were both comfortable going to the location just like you had been weekly for months. Your breath caught in your throat and God he looked better than you remembered. The first thing out of his mouth was, “Great sale on gouda this week.” And the only thing your brain could conjure up was, “Well that’s gouda.”

You both stayed silent for a moment before bursting out in laughter.

Laughter turned to getting lunch around the corner.

Lunch turned into you straddling Carmen’s waist in the car while parked in the very back corner of the parking lot and riding him until your eyes watered and you couldn’t focus long enough to keep a rhythm. He wrapped his arms, such strong arms, around your waist and fucked up into you for all that he was worth. Trying to prove himself in whatever capacity you allowed.

If he couldn’t love you like he wanted, he could at least fuck you better than anyone else would.

Once you two broke the seal of seeing each other it was hard to stop. There was almost a forbidden aspect to your relationship now that caused a small thrill to run down your spine every time you saw him late at night. You were pretty sure no one knew you started… Seeing each other again and you were both content keeping it a secret.

So that’s how you ended up here. Standing across from him at 11 o’clock at night on a random Wednesday. You try not to wonder if he left ‘early’ the second you reached out, instead convincing yourself that it just so happened to work out he was ready to go within minutes of you sending your ‘My place tonight?’ text during this horrific blind date your co-worker set up.

Jonathan, 6’1, finance major turned CPA for his family’s company. He was… Fine. Just fine. You left on good terms in case you wanted to call on him for back up one lonely night. The problem was no one else was Carmen no matter how hard you tried to look for him in the people that passed by.

And there he stood across from you with hair falling into his face and his eyes looking up at you like you’re crafted from Heaven. A skirt, thin tinted tights, a shirt that exposed just enough skin but not too much. The soft shimmer across your eyelids and glossy lips from the lip balm you’ve been continuously applying since you knew he was on the way. The last time he saw you like this was when you were fighting because Carmen accidentally showed up 15 minutes past when you were supposed to leave for a birthday party at your friend’s house and that night ended with you locking him out of the bedroom while he had to pretend he couldn’t hear you crying in the next room. He really didn’t mean to be late. Sometimes the nights just got taken away from him.

Carmen hated that you were dressed up for someone else but he pretends you just threw this on for him.

Your arms cross your chest, totally not attempting to push up your breasts, and you let out a sigh while you stare at Carmen. “This has to be the last time.” His face is stoic, a perfect poker face. The last time? Break up or not he couldn’t imagine there being a last time he saw you. Half the time he forgets, still referring to you as his partner while brushing it off and refusing to correct himself. Then there’s times where he comes home to his empty apartment and realizes you weren’t there to light the long forgotten candles on the coffee table or open up the windows to air the place out.

He closes the space between the two of you and stares at your face. Searching for answers he’s too scared to ask for. Your resolve is breaking, cracking under the weight of having him so close. Beautiful eyes staring at you, the way he smells like the cologne you bought for your last anniversary and clean laundry. If you weren’t so drunk on the sight of him you would have put it together that Carmen kept clean clothes at the Bear to make sure he could change before he came to see you.

You’re both silent for a moment before there’s two hands wrapping around either side of your neck and Carmen’s dragging you two together for a kiss. God, he couldn’t stand the idea of someone else kissing you. Would they even do it right? Do they know the way you moan when he licks into your mouth or the way you always grab ahold of his wrists when he cups your face? Do they know the way you forget to breathe sometimes when you’re lost in it? He’d have to pull back in order to give you a second to gasp in a rush of air. Does whoever you were with tonight know any of that?

You pull away from Carmen with a broken out moan, silva connecting your mouths and the faint taste of cigarettes on your tongue from him. Clamping your hands on his shoulders you just faintly push the two of you apart, trying desperately to collect your thoughts. Carmen crying during the break up, sobbing in your bed, living on autopilot for weeks, the way he kisses you like he’s scared it’s the last time anymore because it very well just might be. Everything coming back to you in flashes as he stands before you once again.

“I called you here for a reason, Carm.” His eyebrow is cocked, eyes flickering down to the bulge in his jeans that started growing the second he kissed you. “Uh - Yeah? Isn’t that what… I thought that’s what we were doing?” Carmen’s leaning in again, letting his lips connect to your neck. Warm kisses being pressed in a path up to just below your ear. “No uh, oh, remember how you let me keep the cast iron?” He hums in response, teeth nipping at your earlobe while broad hands start grabbing at your waist. “Yeah, uh huh, the cast iron skillet.” Fuck the stupid cast iron. He’s much more concerned with hooking fingers in the waistband of your skirt, attempting to pull it down while you’re fighting to stay focused.

“Well my friends came over the other night and oh Jesus.” He’s licking a strip up your neck now, only half focused on your story. “Carm, please, they were helping me clean up and someone left it soaking in hot water overnight.” That’s finally got him freezing in place, his aroused little sounds quickly turning into a groan of annoyance. “Fuck. That ruined-… I mean, the seasoning has to be ruined. Assuming it rusted?” You nod helpless, fingers dragging along his chest while Carmen stares over your shoulder.

His eye twitches involuntarily.

There’s a deep sigh coming from his body as he steps around you, finally kicking off his long forgotten second shoe before walking further into the apartment to head towards the kitchen.

And listen, it wasn’t that you were necessarily concerned so much with the pan. Sure the two of you had purchased it together during the first few weeks of talking. Carmen cooked breakfast with it every Tuesday morning and showed you how to care for this damn pan. It was the closest you two came to owning a pet just… In the form of a nine inch cast iron skillet. You were more curious if he would care. A simple way of testing the waters to see if he just cared about getting laid or still cared about you. The answer should have been obvious but you still had to know.

You follow behind him and wince at the stream of expletives that easily fall from his tongue at the sight of the pan in the sink. It wasn’t horrible but wasn’t ideal. “Y’know, crazy thing is I’m pretty sure I can guess who did this. They kept trying to convince me cast iron wasn’t any different from a standard pan no matter how many times I tried convincing them that just wasn’t the case.” He’s grumbling to himself while crouching down to fish out supplies from under the sink, easily navigating your apartment from memory. The two of you had bounced between your places and talked about moving in together once his lease was up. Going as far as touring a few locations but the conversation was long forgotten once the tensions started building.

As much as Carmen claims he didn’t see it coming, he resigned his lease almost two weeks before the break up officially happened.

You hop up onto the counter next to the sink and watch as Carmen gets to work restoring your pan. “Think it's gonna make it through? I can't believe this is how it might end for the poor thing. All because I wanted to make your chicken piccata.” A few of his recipes had stuck with you and sometimes you find yourself making them when you’re missing him extra at night.

“Nah, it’ll be fine. Just some surface damage s’all.” You watch as the muscles in Carmen’s arm move with the scrubbing motion, your lips itching to kiss over every exposed tattoo. Snap out of it! This is just sex between two consenting adults trying to let off some steam. That’s all. You’re both just comfortable and it would take way too much effort for someone random like Jonathan to learn what you like.

Carmen catches you staring at him, not that you were being subtle about it, and feels heat blooming in his chest. He grabs one of your kitchen towels and gives the skillet a good pat down before sitting it upside down to dry off. It’s not perfect, not yet at least, but he’s pretty sure he’ll explode if it takes any longer to finally get his hands on you.

“You look pretty tonight.” He’s coming to stand between your knees, reaching up to you with the hem of your skirt as you hum out a small “Thank you.” It seems like every time you see him lately you forget just how blue his eyes are. So easy to get lost in them especially from this close. Your hands come up to gently trace the features of his face. Just the ghost of a touch but Carmen’s soaking up the affection. He tilts his head in order to press a kiss to your palm.

His hands are dragging up your thighs, feeling the material of your tights under his touch. “Know how much you hate wearing these.” Your heartbeat is picking up so much it’s making you jittery, hands wrapping around the edge of the countertop to grip it as hard as you can. Keeping yourself steady. “Help me take ‘em off?” You arch your hips up off the counter as an invitation for Carmen. He’s wasting no time grabbing ahold of the waistband and dragging them down your body, groaning to himself as inch by inch your skin gets exposed to him.

Neither of you miss the way you press your thighs together once they’re freed, hips twitching in anticipation. The tights are getting tossed across your apartment and left to be tomorrow’s problem. Carmen falls to his knees in front of you, letting them dig into the harsh tile of your kitchen while in pursuit of making his mark on you. He’s grabbing ahold of your ankles, bringing one of your legs over his shoulder while the other is brought up to his lips.

Your eyes fall closed as Carmen starts trailing a string of delicate kisses along the length of your calf. His lips ghosting across your knee until he reaches the fleshy part of your thigh. While your hands finally escape the countertop and find their way laced into Carmen’s hair, he wraps his lips down against your thigh to start sucking a small bruise into your skin. “Carmy,” You hiss out, “What if I see Jonathan again? How am I gonna explain these?” But you’re not pulling his head away, instead doing quite the opposite by keeping his head in place.

Carmen practically growls against your skin, a low and guttural sound coming from the man. His grip on you tights while he mumbles against you, “Fuck Jonathan.” You scrub your fingers against his scalp as Carmen finds another patch of skin on the opposite thigh to begin sucking a bruise into. His head ducking lower and lower under your skirt, the material finally getting you to pull your hands away from him.

Against all better judgment your thighs fall more open as he works his way down your thighs. There’s a series of small moans and whimpers coming out of you with no control as he reaches the top of your thigh, his nose dragging along the cloth covering your core. “D’you wear these for him? Or did you put them on knowing you’d end up texting me.” It’s impossible to answer when you feel his tongue drag along you, your hips rocking up towards his mouth. He’s bringing his hands up under your skirt now too and grabbing handfuls of where your thighs meet your hips to hold you down in place.

“They’re purple, aren’t they?” A color Carmen had long ago decided he liked best on you. Something about the way the color compliments your skin… In all honesty, you were pretty sure he had purchased the exact pair you were wearing. You started the night with no intention of your date getting anywhere near your bed but instead being under the frame of the man who was exactly where you wanted him.

He guides you to scoot you closer towards the edge of the counter, making sure you’re comfortable before mouthing over you once again. Hot, open mouth kisses being pressed almost exactly where you need them. One of his hands comes around your frame to grab a handful of the fleshy part of your ass while the other hooks a finger into your underwear, pulling the material to the side to expose you.

There’s cool air being blown against your overheated body and your hands fly back to clutch at his back, his neck, the hair that’s exposed from under your skirt. Whatever inch of him you can find is being clung to like a lifeboat. He’s kissing the skin where your thigh meets your center, lips ghosting along the outer side of your folds. It only takes a few more pathetic whimpers before he finally takes pity on you and you feel his tongue go flat at the base of your hole, dragging up long and slow all the way to your clit.

He groans into your core and the vibrations make you start to lose your mind. “Fuck. Fuck!” Carmen’s got your clit between his lips now, bobbing his head just slightly while he goes right to sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves. If you didn’t want to be teased then he’d give you everything you wanted. One of his hands comes up under his chin now, a finger pressing into your tight entrance as his tongue works to lap at your clit, your folds, even dipping into you whenever his finger pulls all the way out.

A second finger slides into you while his attention focuses back to making out with your clit. You can’t keep track of the way he alternates between kissing and licking at you while his fingers push in as deep as he can get them. “So good, Baby.” Baby. It comes out of you by force of habit and it makes him twitch in his boxes. If you weren’t so drunk on him you probably would have started overthinking but he’s making sure your focus is on nothing else but his mouth for now. Carmen’s chin is slick with everything you’re giving him as he eats you out as if he’s a dying man and this is his last source of solace in the world.

“C’mon Honey.” He’s cooing against you, fingers crooked just how he knows you like it. There’s sloppy licks being delivered to your clit as his fingers pump in and out. His hand finally leaves it’s grip on your ass to apply a gentle pressure to the top of your mound, pressing down against the flesh to add yet another sensation. “Can feel how tight you’re getting. You wanna come for me so bad, don’t you? Be good for me.”

Your hands fist around Carmen’s hair, hips rocking up against him and it doesn’t take long for an orgasm to wash over your body. You seize up at the feeling, thighs clamping around Carmen’s head as he licks you through it. He’s only giving you a moment to recover when you feel his fingers slide out of your sensitive body and he can’t help but go back to licking out the mess you’ve made.

“Gonna fuckin’ kill me, Carmen.”

He’s smirking against you but taking the hint. Your thighs shaking as he pulls back from under your skirt, taking a moment to appreciate the handiwork that was the bruises covering your thighs while you take a moment to recover. The way your pussy looks so pretty covered in the mixture of your arousal and his spit. Carmen can’t help himself but to swirl his thumb around your clit, your hips jolting up as you reach out to grab ahold of his wrist. “Need a minute please.”

Carmen nods and stands up, wasting no time making work of unbuckling his belt. You collect your thoughts well enough to start unbuttoning his jeans for him, letting your fingers linger on his jean clad hardened length. “You, uh -” You won’t meet his eye, opting instead to start pulling his pants down his toned thighs. “You still okay not using a condom?” A roundabout way of saying ‘I’m clean, are you?’. Carmen nods as if it’s the most insane question in the world. Even if he’s not with you anymore, it’s still only you for him for as long as he can see coming. “No one but you.”

You can’t meet his eye, a wave of guilt washing over you concerning your earlier date with Jonanthan that quickly gets pushed away when Carmy grabs ahold of your jaw and brings you in for a haphazard kiss. Mindless, heavenly kissing. The two of you getting lost in the way your tongues know just how to navigate one another while your hand slides into his boxes and begins lazily

“Gotta fuck you or I’m gonna cum on your hand like a fuckin’ teenager.” You giggle into his mouth but slide yourself off the counter nonetheless. Giving him one more tender kiss before turning around to bend yourself over the counter. It’s not the most gracious process but you’re tugging your shirt over your head on the way down, pitching it somewhere else to deal with later.

He’s looking at every inch of you. Underwear still pulled to the side, the way the lace of your bra looks against your back. Memorizing every detail he possibly can just in case you wise up and stop letting him come over to defile you like this at night.

Carmen is dragging the head of his cock through your folds, tapping it against your clit while you whine and rut back against him. The weight of his jeans and belt resting heavy against his ankles and keeping him grounded enough to not spill his load before he even makes it inside of you. You weren’t used to taking him all the time anymore, a thought Carmen can’t dwell on, so he goes inch by inch and gives you time to adjust to the girth of him. He was thicker than anyone you’d been with before and every random hookup together lately reminds you of the first time you felt him stretch you out.

It burns in the best way possible and he’s so tender while you get adjusted. Waiting until you start fucking yourself against his length to take that as his sign you were finally ready for him. Carmen still starts slow, a teasing pace of pulling himself nearly all the way out before sinking right back in. “Pussy’s like heaven.” It makes you oddly proud to hear him call that out. To know you still have an affect on him after all this time.

“Think about fuckin’ you all the time.” He’s picking up speed now, “Think about how good you feel stretched around me. Such a good slut for me, aren’t you? Bending over and practically begging for it.” His words, once again, make your head spin. It was a common theme with Carmen. Your fingers lace in your own hair, desperate to grab ahold of something. “Always wanting you to fuck me, Carm. Dream about how good you make me feel.” Like you two were meant to fit together perfectly.

There’s a lewd clapping noise coming from the way your ass smacks against his frame with each deep thrust. Eventually your arms give out, torso falling flat against the shockingly still cool countertop while Carmen fucks into you for all he’s worth. A firm slap is being delivered to your ass that causes you to yelp out, rolling your hips back against him at the same time as an act of encouragement.

His mind is taken up with how good you feel. You’re perfectly stretched around him and leaking out around his base. So wet, so beautiful, so perfect. There’s a hand sliding up your back until it’s fisting around your hair, gently tugging at it and the new sensation has these pornstar worthy moans escaping you. Your loud and needy brain is completely empty as Carmen destroys you the way he knows how.

“D’you think about me fucking you while you were sitting across from some asshole all night? Poor little pussy almost got fucked by someone who doesn’t know how to treat it.” His words are so casually spoken with just the right amount of bite that it’s causing your brain to melt. Jonathan didn’t stand a chance of getting within two feet of your panties, just another mindless date in your series of attempted ways to ‘get over Carmen’ which clearly wasn’t going well. He bottoms out in you, every inch of his length pressed as firmly as he can into your core. It’s so much, so full and he’s got you pinned in place. Unable to do anything but be used by him, just how you both know you love to be. “Or did you go just to make me jealous? Put on your slutty little panties and went to dinner knowing you’d text me to come fuck you tonight.”

He’s grinding his hips into you on the impossible quest to get even deeper. It’s possessive, claiming, and you’d probably even be a little annoyed by his behavior if you were in a better state of mind. For now you’re bent over the counter with bruises blooming all over your thighs and enjoying an odd jealous streak coming from someone who, technically, has no right to be jealous. It’s making you feel dizzy and your heart throb and your pussy clenching around him. “You gonna keep talking or you gonna fuck me, Carm? ‘Cause if not I’ll call him to finish the job.”

You liked riling him up.

Another sharp smack is being dealt to your ass when Carmen starts to pick the pace back up. His hands are tight on your hips and his pace is brutal. There’s grunts coming from behind you that are making your head spin and if you were more coherent you’d be a bit more embarrassed about the drool sliding from the corner of your mouth as your boyfrie-….. Well, as Carmen takes care of you. He’s admiring the bloom of his handprint on your skin, brushing his hand along it before pressing firmly down to help soothe the buzzing sting of pain.

He wasn’t fucking you as often, didn’t have you nearly as well trained anymore. These bi-weekly meetings are not doing nearly enough for your body. He used to be able to fuck you right through an orgasm and you’d keep going. So used to him working your oversensitive clit to his liking. Now you whine while grabbing his wrist and whimper out pleas for him to give you a few minutes. He hates not knowing your body as well as he used to even if he still knows you pretty damn well.

So when he feels you getting closer, he’s taking note. Keeping his pace exactly the same and letting his hand crash down against the tender flesh of your ass again. “You gonna give me another? C’mon, Honey. Can feel how bad you need it.” And you do. God you need every orgasm you’re lucky enough to get from him.

Your hips buck and twitch and you let out a series of uncontrolled moans as your orgasm starts to wash over your body. If Carmen wasn’t between your legs then your thighs would have snapped shut while your toes curled and your heart started beating faster. You could practically hear it beating in your own ears. “S’good, so good. Thank you, thank you. Shit, thank you.” A mess but you couldn’t judge yourself.

Carmen’s pulling out when he’s close after just a few more strokes, frantically jerking off his length to keep the sensation going. You’re rolling your hips back and riding out the waves of your own orgasm, glancing back over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of Carmen with his head tossed back and brows knitted together in concentration. “Come on me, Baby. Wanna feel every drip on my skin. Maybe I’ll let you take a picture of it dripping down all the pretty bruises you gave me.”

That’s all it takes for him to come undone. Warm spurts of cum landing along your back, your thighs, some of it dripping down your folds. The feeling is pulling wanton moans from your mouth that send Carmen into orbit. God, he doesn’t want to come back down to Earth. Collecting his breath and trying to keep himself upright while the aftershocks of his orgasm wrack through his body. How was he supposed to stay away from you when it felt like this? Especially when you just kept calling him baby.

He stopped cumming inside of you since the breakup. It made sense, kinda. But you hated it. Felt like a waste even though you wouldn’t overstep and ask for him to go back to finishing inside of you. He would, by the way. Without a second thought he’d bury himself in until he couldn’t go any further and fuck his cum into you as deep as possible.

You feel a finger swiping up some of his cum off your backside and soon enough it’s pressed to your lips. Without a second thought you take the digit into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it while licking him clean. He wants some of it inside of you one way or another. A subtle way of still putting his claim on you.

The two of you take a moment to recover after Carmen pops his finger out of your mouth. His hands are running a circuit up and down the side of your thighs and torso, still enjoying the view of your body relaxed against the counter in front of him. The tile was starting to become painful as your stomach bent over it but you couldn’t bring yourself to move just yet. You didn’t fully trust your legs to support your weight without the counter for support.

Carmen’s rustling around behind you now. Reaching down to pull up just his boxes but kick his jeans the rest of the way off finally. He’s not ready for the stimulation of such a heavy material against his sensitive skin yet. There’s a clattering from the sink area as he retrieves another towel to get wet for you and a cup to fill with water. Your eyes feel heavy. Mind’s at ease having Carmen around again, not that you’ll admit it, and your body feeling languid after being fucked so well.

There’s a glass of water being sat in front of you. “Drink.” So you prop yourself up on your elbows and nurse small sips of the water while the cool rag gets to work wiping down your backside from the mess he made. His fingers ghost along the tender flesh of your ass where he was spanking, “Feeling alright?” You hum into the cup, giving him a small waggle of your behind to reassure any concerns he had.

He gets you cleaned up in silence, letting the both of you enjoy the simple moment. Carmen always prided himself on taking care of you. There’s warm hands, still damp from cleaning you up, rubbing up the sides of your torso before wrapping around the tops of your shoulders. His hips rub along your backside and you just feel so warm, so safe like this. “We gotta get you to bed.”

You just sigh and scrub your hands over your face. A beat of silence passes while you collect your thoughts. “Carm, I don’t think I can stand up.” Your legs are still slightly shaking and your mind has yet to catch up with your body.

Laughter’s coming from behind you as he delivers a playful swat to your ass. “C’mon I’ll get you there.” This feels so simple. You find yourself questioning why the two of you even broke up to begin with when the good moments were this good. Easy, content, safe. Would you ever be able to find this again? Would he?

He’s grabbing ahold of your waist while pulling you back into his chest. Your head falls back against his shoulder and Carmen allows his lips to once again find your exposed neck. A series of gentle kisses being placed as his arms snake tighter around your body. “Still feeling okay?” You let out a content hum and allow yourself to be held by him. “Feel better than I have all week. Thank you, Carm.” You feel him smile against your skin as he places another delicate kiss. “Always.”

The two of you stay intertwined until Carmen starts to encourage the shuffle towards your bedroom. He makes sure you get cleaned up and ready for bed. Brings you one of your sleep shirts while you brush your teeth and tries to not overthink when you offer him a toothbrush of his own because you just so happened to have an extra. Gives you privacy when you complain about needing to pee and you find it odd there’s a tug at your chest when he ducked out of the room. Part of you hated being that couple who left the door open or used the restroom while the other showered, yadda yadda. It was a sign of comfort and the door being pulled shut behind Carmen was a sign that comfort was long gone.

Not that you cared. Totally didn’t care at all.

He’s going to just tuck you in at first until you’re clutching at his frame and pulling him into bed next to you. Carmen never could say no when it came to you, especially when he feels his back sinking into your soft bed and your warm body curling up along his side. He should go. Get home before it’s too late and try to get some sleep. He’s already planning on getting to work early to avoid having too much free time to think about tonight in detail.

But his clothes feel so far away and the long day is starting to finally hit him. You can practically hear him thinking over his options and your breathing starts skipping as you feel him begin to pull away.

“Carmen.” Your grip on his chest tightens and it pulls directly at his heart. Since this whole… Situation started he never stayed the night when your meetings would run this late. Always picking his clothes up out of piles on the floor and mumbling something about needing to get home to get stuff together from work. You never asked him to stay anyway. Neither of you knew if that would make an already weird and complicated situation even worse.

But tonight was different.

There were hints of a storm in the distance you start telling yourself. If you focused you could hear thunder, somewhere, out there and you just wanted Carmen safe for his sake. That’s all. So you pathetically cling to him and hope you don’t kick yourself out of embarrassment in the morning. It takes just a moment of him looking down at you to understand what you can’t say and he’s giving you a little nod in response. His arms wrap around your shoulders, leaning in to press a kiss to the top of your head. Kissing every inch of you had to be one of his greatest pleasures in life.

“Remind me to season that skillet in the morning.”

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✮‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Carmen, shockingly, sleeps through the night. The warmth of your body next to him coupled with your excellent sleeping experience. A comfortable bed with good pillows, a white noise machine in the corner of your room (the ice maker in the fridge at Carmy’s would constantly go off so you got used to sleeping with background noise to cover it up), it was the best night of rest he’s had in months.

Your sheets smell like home.

He’s slowly waking up now and his first thought is how much he misses the weight of your breast in his hand. Second thought is how much he needs to pee but damn your bed is comfortable.

Carmen allows his body to wake up slowly. Stretching his arms out above his head and letting out a satisfied grunt at the feeling of his well rested muscles. Blinking his eyes awake just enough to take in the sight of all the trinkets and items that covered your space. There’s some things he notices that he knows for a fact he purchased you. Bottles of perfume, books you keep telling yourself you need to read, cups you constantly forget to bring back into the kitchen until you’re fully out of them.

Did you keep any of the pictures? Photo strips from Navy Pier and the holiday market at Wrigley Field. Everything from the disposable camera you brought along on road trips and vacations. The polaroids that once littered a cork board in your living room that the two of you added pictures to so often. If he looked around enough would he find them tucked away safely in a box or did you pitch them when you knew the two of you were through.

Carmen still has one. You took most of them while you packed up your things from his place and refused to let him carry any of the boxes downstairs. So stubborn, so full of hurt pride. He just spent most of the day trying to stand out of your way but always available in case you finally admitted that you needed help. Maybe a small part of him hoped that as you packed up so many memories it would trigger a ‘What are we doing?’ reaction and you’d go running into his arms.

You never did.

But you did take one trip down to your car with an overstuffed Ikea bag over your shoulder and balancing a box on your hip. Carmen knew he didn’t have long, and it kind of felt like stealing, but he rushed over to the box you just started packing up and rifles through the photos as fast as he possibly could. It took a moment of digging before there it was. A polaroid photo someone took of the two of you on New Year’s Eve. You’re wearing some cheesy headband and he has those tacky sunglasses on that show off the incoming year on them. His arms are wrapped low around your waist as he stands behind you, one of your hands resting on top of his while the other is reaching up and back to cup his jaw. You’re both grinning and laughing in the photos and nothing bad has happened yet.

He hears you shuffling back up the stairs so he’s quickly throwing the box back together after sliding the photo into his pocket and rushing back to stand in the kitchen. Acting like nothing was happening. You didn’t even look over at him so it wasn’t like he had to put up much of a show anway.

It’s still safely tucked into his wallet.

The sound of the front door opening and hushed whispers are finally pulling him from his half asleep, reflective state. It looks like this day is getting started if he wants it to or not. He’s tilting his head to press it into the pillow underneath him, allowing one last deep inhale to remind himself exactly what your scent smells like before forcing his body to be pushed out of your bed.

Carmen turns the corner in just his boxer briefs and you’re not convinced you aren’t still dreaming because fuck he looks good. His hair’s a mess from the combination of you playing with it all night and him sleeping so well. One of his hands is scratching low on his hips while he takes in the sight of you in the kitchen.

Maybe he shouldn’t be so comfortable walking around your apartment half dressed still but God is this relationship situation getting messier since the day since the two of you reconnected.

“Ordered some breakfast from Yolk. Figured you were hungry and I’m sure you have to run off this morning but I uh-…. I just wanted to make sure you were fed.” You nod to yourself. Giving him an out as you start popping open food boxes. There was just over an hour until you had to get to work too so there were multiple excuses possible for this morning to end as early as it needed to.

In an odd, roundabout, time to head back to therapy kind of way it almost feels like you’re dating your ex.

“Yeah.” He nods to himself and desperately wishes he had deodorant, cologne, fuck even Axe body spray. Something to make himself smell better or feel more presentable for you. “Richie actually tried installing fuckin’ bidets to the toilets last night. Kept on running his mouth about how prestigious they are and he, obviously, doesn’t know how to install bidets. So the bathrooms are a little-“ He waves his hands through the air.

“Shitty?”

Second questionable pun you’ve made lately. Pull it together.

There’s a breathy little laugh coming out, “Yeah, shitty.” Carmen’s peeking over your shoulder as you plate up breakfast, sneaking a piece of bacon from under your arm before pressing a kiss to the top of your ear. “Thank you for ordering this.”

You nod and try to pretend you didn’t stop breathing having him so close to you under the soft morning light.

He leaves $60 tucked under a vase on your dining table to cover breakfast.

————

11:52 am

[DO NOT ANSWER]: Richie put his foot down and we’re stuck getting the bidets

[DO NOT ANSWER]: If you’re wondering how my day is going

12:17 pm

Shockingly my day is much less toilet related. I hope it’s going well.

4:39 pm

[DO NOT ANSWER]: I know so much about bathrooms now

————

You laugh a little too loud as the alert illuminates your phone. There’s a fond tugging at your heart as the ‘normal’ conversations fills your chat history instead of the short “My place tn” or “I still can’t find my jacket. You have to have it”. Maybe saving him as do not answer seemed too harsh but having his contact show up as a photo of you two cuddled up with the Chicago skyline in the background, an innocent and horrifically cheesy “Baby Boy 💙” contact name modeled after Richie saying you baby him too much one night. Every time it flashed across your screen and Richie saw he gave you guys an endless amount of shit. It became a constant bit that none of you got tired of at the time.

You were trying to separate yourself from your past with him as much as possible at first but now those lines just keep getting more and more blurred.

One of your coworkers grabs your attention away from your phone thus leaving Carmen’s message on read. He tries to pretend it doesn’t bother him as he gets to work prepping for tonight’s service. Who wants to talk about bathrooms with their… Fuck buddy? Ex? God that’s still so weird to say.

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊✮‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Your mind was haunted by thoughts of Carmen Berzatto all day.

No matter how many busy tasks you assigned yourself he always seemed to creep back in. You’d look around for him when a joke landed well at work and the group you were with erupted into laughter. Could easily picture his head thrown back as he scrubs over his face in an attempt to muffle the sound. When you were standing alone your mind wandered off to the way he treated you last night. So claiming. Expertly working your body the way only he could after so much time of getting to know it.

The bed feels so much

You throw the blanket away from your frame and watch as it bundles up beside you. Is this crazy? It feels crazy. You shake out the nerves, fluffing up your shorts and primping yourself for the photo. It takes one, two, seven pictures to get just the right angle. An image of your thighs against the bedding and your oversized sleep shorts bunched up all the way down your legs. Taking a deep breath you steel your spine and pull up Carmen’s contact.

————

11:28 pm

Headed to bed

ONE IMAGE ATTACHED

11:29 pm

[DO NOT ANSWER]: Fuck.

11:31 pm

Goodnight Carmen <3

2:12 am

[DO NOT ANSWER]: Can’t stop thinking about you

ONE VIDEO ATTACHED

————

The sun is warm against your skin as it slowly wakes you up. There’s an air purifier rattling in the corner that acts half as white noise while you sleep, half to soak up the smells of Chicago. Sometimes when Carmen’s especially exhausted you have to bring out the big boy and ask your Google home to play sleep sounds to mask him snoring all night. You typically didn’t mind the sound, knowing it’s a sign of just how badly he needed a good night’s rest.

You’re fishing your phone out of the comforter in a haste to click off the horrific sound of the alarm and your eyes are barely open when you see the alert. A preview image popping up and you can just barely a blurry image of - “Holy fuck!”

Your free hand flies up to clamp over your mouth as a mix of gasps and ‘no fucking way’ come out of you with zero control. With shaking hands you open up the video, half tempted to pinch yourself with a video of Carmen fills your screen. His hand rubbing over the bulge in his boxers and there’s a mess of shaky breathing coming from behind the phone. You can’t get the volume turned all the way up fast enough and you’re terrified to miss a single sound.

And there he is.

Fishing his cock out of his boxers and stroking himself for you. Illuminated by the lamp on his bedside table and his hand over lubricated to mimic how wet you get for him. He’s a mess of filthy moans, bucking hips, are you dreaming?

The combination of the sun beating in and the way this video is making your body go hot is too much. You’re overheating, kicking the blankets away from you while your hand goes into your shorts on instinct. Toying with your clit even though you don’t have much time to spare as you watch Carmen get off for you.

————

8:04 am

HEART REACTED TO A VIDEO

Mine tonight?

Fuck you sound so good

Wish I would have been there to clean you up

Say my name more next time please

How am I supposed to go to work now

————

No response. You aren’t surprised, he’s typically busy in the morning.

So you go along your day and let yourself enjoy the thought of Carmen coming back over tonight to take care of you. You had thought letting him back in was a risky move but things seemed fine so far. Settling into the new version of what normal was going to look like. Maybe things would end up being some version of alright after all.

A chirp from your phone catches your attention and you’re instantly uninvested in whatever task was at hand. It might be a little pathetic how excited you were but that is besides the point.

————

10:32 am

[CARMEN]: Busy tonight

————

Busy tonight? Go fuck yourself Carmen!

You waited all morning and THAT’S the response you get? Were the multiple texts too much? Did you come off too clingy? Sure he just stayed the night, was two times in one week where he drew the line?

So you leave him on read and take away the heart from his video. Change his name back to DO NOT ANSWER and instantly feel the urge to get off tonight leaving your body. Replaced by a subtle anger that only he can bring out of you.

The workday seems to go by so much quicker as you have this internal argument with yourself and mentally pick a battle with Carmen. Maybe you were silly to think things would… What? Go back to the way they were? No, of course not.

Ugh!

Carmen who, by the way, truly was slammed. Got stuck hosting an event for an old family friend that he barely knew but was convinced it’d be good for business. He’s overwhelmed by work and anxious with his relationship with you. The breakup was horrific. One of the worst things he’s had to experience so far which certainly says a lot. At the very least - It made sense. This though? Sleeping together, fucking when you have shitty dates and he’s your second choice for the night, taking pictures of dumb things he sees during the day because it made him think of you but never actually sending them, it made zero sense.

If only there was something the two of you could do to figure this whole mess out.

But alas.

You bring home a salad that’s far healthier than anything you’ve eaten all week accompanied by some fresh pressed green juice nonsense you lie to yourself and mentally say is delicious. The boy detox starts now.

The shower you take that night must last an hour. Every inch of your body gets scrubbed, your face and hair both get a mixture of treatments and masks. You primp and polish yourself up and convince yourself that this is all for you and not so you look better than ever and Carmen will have to regret his stupid and shitty ‘Busy tonight’ text because you were also just like so, so busy and -

Fuck Carmen Berzatto.

You decide you could go the rest of your life without hearing from him and be just fine. It was his loss. You’re funny, beautiful, and excellent in the bedroom. There’s thousands of people out there dreaming about finding someone like you!

This internal argument keeps going. And you know what’s annoying? The second you fling yourself into bed you realize he left his scent all over your sheets still. It hasn’t gone away - Cologne mixed with Carmen. And you 100% aren’t hunting out the scent nor are you hunting out a reason to stay annoyed with him. Not at all. So you get back out of bed and grab the fabric freshener to spray your sheets back down with, giving it a minute to dry before falling face first into the mattress with an annoyed huff.

So yeah, fuck him. You hope you never hear from him again and toss your phone on the other side of the bed. Forcing your eyes shut and making your mind go blank because otherwise you’ll stew all night thus continuing this Carmen induced spiral.

————

1:47 am

[DO NOT ANSWER]: Hey

————

Fuck.

#♡: c.b.#carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto smut #the bear #the bear fic #the bear smut #carmy x reader #carmy smut #carmy the bear #carmy bearzatto x you

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neptuneiris · 2 months

Text

could you pretend to be in love? (08/10)

The Revelations

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader (fake dating)

summary: unfortunately the trip to Dragonstone is over and you and Aemond define the relationship, however some surprising and unexpected news awaits you at home.

word count: 7.7k

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surprise! i guess hehe

It's not a secret why I stopped updating the story, but if you don't know, basically writer's block and also some issues in my personal life, but finally here it is, what everyone has been waiting for!😙

I didn't give notice or anything because I wanted it to be a surprise and I have no idea if the story will be well received again but… I have no intention of abandoning it, I plan to finish it because I know that some of you want it, so enjoy the new chapter and I promise I won't take so long with the next one🙏

after all we are getting to the end!

Last night in Dragonstone.

It has definitely been a great experience for you, you had a lot of fun, you did amazing activities you haven't tried before, you learned about Old Valyria and you like this feeling every time you are with Aemond.

And since it's the last night at the castle, Aemond invited you and Alysanne to watch a movie in his room with his friends. The plan would have been different, but a storm was reported for the early morning and no one is allowed out until the morning you will return to Kings Landing.

So that's what you're doing now, watching a horror movie, which isn't really scary, lying on the couch on Aemond's chest, both of you cuddled up and with blankets over you, keeping warm.

Every now and then you watch the huge windows, watching the lightning reflect in the night sky to the horizon and raindrops fall against the glass, nothing heavy yet but you know it will rain harder in a few hours.

Aemond's arms get tighter around your body, gently caressing your lower back with one of his hands as you feel his nose nuzzle the side of your cheek, feeling his chin against the side of your forehead.

You let out a contented sigh and snuggle closer against his chest, enjoying his warmth and closeness, as well as his scent mixed between rich detergent and his cologne.

“Are you cold?”

His soft, low voice makes you raise your gaze to him as he secures the blankets wrapped around the two of you.

“No, I'm fine.”

“Well, if you change your mind, tell me and I'll give you some of my hoddies.”

You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Is my weight bothering you already?” you inquire amused.

“That's not what I said,” he instantly defends himself.

“Oh no?”

He slips one of his hands between your bodies, cupping your jaw gently but firmly enough, making you lean into him as he watches your lips.

“I'm just trying to be nice, love,” he says in a low, husky tone.

And you let him, leaning in, unable to stop watching his lips either.

“Such a nice boy you are.”

Aemond brushes a lock of hair behind your ear and pulls you closer to him if possible and catches your lips with his.

And you sink so deep into him, not being able to get enough, tilting your head and deepening the kiss further. Your lips mold perfectly to his and he takes the opportunity to in one smooth glide, his tongue meets yours in languid caresses.

You gasp softly into his mouth and move your hand up to the nape of his neck, stroking his hair, as his hands slip under your shirt, caressing the bare skin of your lower back with his fiery hands that send electric shocks and bristle your skin.

It's soft, delicate and tender.

Then he's the one who slowly pulls away, with a small grin, brushing his nose against yours. When suddenly, Alysanne's voice breaks the spell.

“Hey!”

The two of you turn your heads and she along with Aemond's other friends watch you.

“Have you two stopped making out like cows? You won't let me listen to the movie, I can hear the sound of spit all the way over here."

The blood rushes to your cheeks, laughing in embarrassment, hiding your face in the crook of Aemond's neck who laughs too, feeling his chest vibrate at the sound, hugging you against him.

"I'm sorry. We got a little excited."

"Well, don't.’’

His other friends laugh too as he and you exchange an amused look and he returns to have your head resting on his chest to continue watching the movie.

Unfortunately the next morning comes quickly and you find Alysanne ready to board the ferry back to King's Landing.

She's talking to you about something that happened between her and Cregan on the beach after she finished her surfing practice when you notice Alys in the distance with her group of friends, not at all discreetly talking to each other as they watch you out of the corner of their eyes.

The whole time you were in the castle or on the beach you didn't even notice their presence and now you don't know what they must be talking about, but honestly you don't care.

So you ignore her and all her friends.

Then Aemond shows up ready with his suitcase and by the time the two of you are in the same place together, neither you nor he will leave each other's side.

Much less on the ferry back to King's Landing, which is totally peaceful.

He and you can't help but touch each other all the time. The two of you hug, laugh, there are gestures, caresses and you let yourselves be carried away by this different complicity that you have developed during the trip.

You even take photos and videos together to keep as memories as the ferry rocks gently in the waves and Aemond wraps his arms around you, leaving a soft kiss on your forehead.

For the return journey you've chosen an overly summery blue dress, so he can't help but gaze adoringly as the sunlight reflects off your entire figure, looking absolutely beautiful.

And even though his clothes are simple, that damn silver chain and also those sunglasses he's wearing is more than enough to have you drooling over him.

And that's exactly one of the reasons why you can't stop touching him.

Between more kisses and laughter, the two of you lose yourselves in your own world, oblivious to the stares of the other students and especially the stares of Alys and Floris.

Until you finally disembark at King's Landing and everyone boards the buses.

This time you finally take a seat next to him and both continue your complicity, sharing AirPod's together and using each other as pillows, hugging each other.

When the whole trip is officially over the buses pull into the school car park and all the students start to get off. Then you wait until you can also take your suitcase from the huge compartments below.

"So…" Alysanne approaches you, "Shall I drive you home? Cregan already won you the passenger seat as soon as he found out I brought my car."

"Oh… Cregan?" you say with a mischievous look, "The same guy you said you didn't know whether to take him on a date with?" you scoff.

"Oh come on, you told me to accept," she reproaches you, causing you to let out a giggle, "Besides I already told him I'm not looking for a serious relationship and he said he's totally fine with it."

You look at her slightly surprised and excited.

"Really? That's great!"

"Yeah," she nods, with a small smile on her lips, "So I'll drive you then?"

"Oh no, thanks, Aemond will drive me."

"Okay," she grins mischievously at you, starting to walk away, "Then have fun."

"You too with Cregan," you look back at her.

She gives you a pouty face and you laugh softly, organising all your things.

"Well…" Aemond now approaches you with his suitcase in hand, ‘Are you ready?"

"Yes," you nod with a small smile.

He helps you with your suitcase as well and together you head towards his car, where once during the drive, neither of you say anything, yet there is no tension and no awkward silence, only the moderate volume of music from his Spotify playlist.

You know that the two of you have to talk about what happened and you know that Aemond knows that too, otherwise he wouldn't be so quiet, but neither of you dares to talk about it first.

And you don't know if that's good or bad, but thinking about it and finding yourself in this position, you don't feel it's a bad thing. Yes, that moment was unexpected, so was everything that came after that wasn't just pretending, but it felt real.

Every gesture, every look and every touch felt real. And this new closeness with Aemond, far from causing uncertainty, brings you a calmness that envelops you and makes you feel to some extent happy.

However, you know that when you get home, you'll have to talk about it.

You try not to think too much about it for the rest of the drive, trying to distract yourself with the music, but inevitably you feel the time passing quickly and finally the car stops in front of your house.

You let out a low breath and unbuckle your seatbelt at the same time as you throw a quick glance at Aemond, who returns it almost instantly and seems to hesitate for a moment to say something. But again, neither of you say anything and you get out of the car.

He helps you again with your suitcase by taking it out of the trunk while you wait patiently for him and notice how he is incredibly serious, as if he is organizing his thoughts.

Then when the suitcase hits the ground and you pick it up, you can feel his gaze and also his nervousness, as if he is trying to find the right words. But you don't give her a chance to start speaking, as the words come from your lips without thinking.

“Just tell me that what happened wasn't simply pretending.”

You tell him, seeking clarity in his gaze, to which he seems momentarily taken aback by your frankness and your words, processing them. You see a glint of uncertainty in his eye, but almost instantly his expression softens, showing you honesty.

“No, it wasn't for pretending.”

He finally replies, his voice firm and sincere. And you can't help but feel a huge relief sweep through you, watching him hopefully and wanting to confirm his words.

"What happened was real, Y/N. I wasn't pretending, or trying to act. I was enjoying being with you, being myself."

And there it is, his statement confirming what you had felt throughout the trip, that genuine connection that emerged between the two of you.

“Really?”

He smiles softly at you as he sees your face, taking a step towards you and tilting his head towards you.

“I wanted to talk about it earlier at Dragonstone, even on the bus but… I didn't want to ruin anything.”

You see his eye twinkle as he watches you and even notice how he wants to say something else, but doesn't know how to express everything he's feeling, just the same way you do.

At least you know he's being honest and clear, which is why you feel a calmness and a clarity that fills you after hearing his words.

“I wasn't pretending either,” you admit, feeling more open to expressing your own feelings, “And I'm glad to know I wasn't alone in feeling that.”

He nods, understanding what you're saying, not failing to notice that twinkle in his eye.

“I'd like this to continue,” he tells you, his voice soft but determined, “I don't even care about the contract anymore, I just… I want this to be real.”

A warm flush of heat runs through your chest and you smile softly, a little shamed but completely thrilled, not quite believing that this is really happening.

“I want the same thing,” you reply with conviction.

He smiles warmly at you and without expecting it, he leans toward you, takes both of your cheeks in his hands and leaves a soft kiss on your lips. You are surprised, but you kiss him back, feeling a smile form on your lips as you do so.

Then finally Aemond says goodbye with a smile, telling you he'll see you at school and you nod, thanking him for bringing you home.

You both kiss again and you head towards the entrance of your house feeling lighter and with a sense of excitement and happiness, unable to stop smiling the whole time.

You remember all the moments at Dragonstone and what just happened, which completely intensifies that feeling. And you know that Aemond is probably feeling it too.

And once in your room you start unpacking and organizing your clothes, you think about everything and how this with Aemond will totally change.

Before, what was just pretending to be in love will now be real. It won't make a difference in front of everyone at school, but for both of you it will.

The rules that you both had agreed upon in the beginning have lost their meaning, you don't need to think about them anymore, because you know that what you feel for Aemond is real and the best thing is that it is reciprocated.

And that's what excites you, that there will be no more acting as you imagine spending time together, talking, laughing and sharing moments that will no longer be tinged with pretense.

And that's all you think about as you organize your things, the smile never fading from your face, as your phone beeps softly, lighting up the screen with a notification that interrupts your reverie, but the feeling of joy stays with you.

You think it's Alysanne or even Aemond, which mainly excites you and makes you keep your smile, but as you pick up your phone and look closely, you notice that it's a message from an unknown number.

'Silly little thing.'

That's what you read and almost instantly you frown, not understanding its meaning. Then curiosity drives you to open the message, and what you see in the chat makes you lose your smile completely.

You feel all that feeling from before, all the nice things you were feeling, just slowly fade away, with surprise, confusion and disappointment washing over you.

A huge lump settles in your throat and with your lips parted you look at a picture of Aemond and Floris apparently at a party, kissing.

A knot also begins to settle in your stomach that you can't help, beginning to feel the whole unpleasant sensation through your body as you continue to stare at the photo and your hands begin to shake.

The photo also has the day and time at the time it was taken, and you realize that this happened at the party he invited you to after the two of you had that little argument as you tried to end the fake relationship and he disagreed.

At that time when he invited you, you preferred not to go with him and told him to have fun.

And he didn't mention any of this during the whole time together at Dragonstone, although of course he wouldn't… but he could have since nothing had changed between the two of you at the beginning of the trip.

This is why Floris was acting delighted and hopeful around him.

This is probably why he took the first step to apologize to you, all out of guilt and wanting to make amends. And at the time telling you wouldn't have meant anything but now with everything that happened… of course it means a lot that he kept it from you.

And knowing all this, with all the pieces falling into place, a wave of mixed emotions wash over you, with tears starting to want to escape your eyes.

But not wanting to cry, being a feeble attempt at wanting to stand your ground, you put your phone aside and disconnect from social media, with the feeling of sadness and betrayal in your chest.

For the next few days you completely ignored Aemond.

It wasn't easy, especially when your feelings for him are strong despite what you found out. And you know that ignoring him is not the long term solution, but for now it's the only thing you can do because of how hurt and betrayed you feel.

Until the inevitable Monday arrives, where Aemond texts you again asking if he'll pick you up for school, to which you take a moment before replying with a simple and cold 'no need' and nothing more.

You were tempted to skip school for a day or two, mostly because of anxiety and sadness. And the thought of seeing Aemond, of facing him, seemed too painful. But you knew you couldn't avoid it forever, especially since the two of you share several classes.

But when you got to school you made up your mind to stand your ground, you have no idea how but you have to try, at least until you could process your feelings and face the situation. So you prepare yourself mentally.

Or so you try.

The bustle of students coming in and being in the parking lot surrounds you and makes you feel slightly overwhelmed and anxious, but you know you can't stay out here as long as you need to since classes will be starting soon.

So you enter the building with a slight determination.

Each step to your locker feels like an eternity as you watch everything around you, attentive and intimidated. As the seconds pass, you're at least relieved to see that no one is watching you, which is a good sign, since they don't know about the photo, yet.

But that's not what makes your heart start beating too fast. It's the anticipation of seeing Aemond, running into him by accident, because then you have no idea what you'll do, let alone what you'll say to him.

That's why you look around, alert and once in your locker, you quickly grab your books, adjust the strap of your backpack and head to your first class, repeating in your mind that you'll be fine since luckily you're not sharing this class with him.

But on the way, you do run into Alys and her friends in one of the hallways.

You try to keep your head up so you don't look weak and cowardly, but the sadness and humiliation you feel is too much and you just can't, so you hurry past them, trying to avoid any kind of eye contact.

However, their gazes follow you, shallow and mocking looks, all at the same time as you hear the whispers and giggles between them in the distance as you walk away, making you feel even more vulnerable and exposed.

And thinking that would be it, just as you turn down a hallway to make them lose sight of you, you run straight into Floris, who just like you stands frozen for a moment, both of you staring at each other.

Your eyes widen slightly at the unexpected encounter and your breath catches.

She looks at you with an expression you can't really read, but you don't stop to analyze it either. So you quickly lower your gaze and keep walking, trying to keep your composure and not let the tears escape.

You don't know if it was her who sent you the picture or if it was Alys with her friends, but that doesn't matter, you still feel the humiliation of remembering how they saw you in Dragonstone completely in love with Aemond and like a naive fool not knowing what had happened at that party.

And once classes start, you can't concentrate at all. Your mind keeps coming back to the image of Aemond and Floris kissing.

You want to find a possible solution, to think that it's probably all a mistake, that maybe it's an old photo, but the more you think and analyze it, it can't be possible.

The date coincides with the party he invited you to after the dinner with his family and that little argument you both had, you also saw that he posted pictures with his friends on Instagram and his outfit is the same as the one in the picture.

There is simply no justification.

Again tears threaten to flow down your cheeks, but you force yourself to hold them back. You don't want to cry, especially not here in the middle of class where everyone can see you and eventually the gossip will disperse, creating more drama when they find out about the photo too.

You watch the time on your phone, hoping to go home soon, but you're also faced with Aemond's unread messages. They keep piling up, as the last one he sent you was eight minutes ago, but you don't read anything and delete the notification.

The rest of the classes you avoid certain people at all costs, you even don't attend the classes you share with him, you know that not having assistance later will cost you but in these moments you don't care and you hide in the bleachers.

Alysanne didn't come to school today, you thought that with her help everything would be easy after explaining her everything that happened, even telling her about the fake relationship, which is not even important at this point.

But when you texted her to ask where she was, she told you that she woke up too late and didn't make it to school on time.

So you hide out during lunchtime as well.

Aemond's messages kept coming, but you continue to ignore him, wishing the time would run faster so you could go home soon. But ignoring him doesn't make you feel good either, not at all.

You feel an emptiness in your chest, a mixture of sadness, confusion and betrayal that won't leave you alone. You wonder how you got to this point, how something that started as a simple act has become so real and complicated.

And despite everything, you can't help but remember the moments you shared with Aemond at Dragonstone and even before the trip.

But when the last bell rang, finally ending the school day, you felt an immediate relief and your thoughts were put on pause.

You quickly grabbed your things and were the first to leave the classroom, also the halls, then the building and finally the school, heading towards the bus stop.

Your phone vibrates more at that moment but you ignore it, knowing that Aemond is probably looking for you, trying to talk to you, but you manage to run away in time.

And the next day, you repeat the same routine with the same goal in mind; to avoid him.

He hasn't stopped contacting you, but you ignore every message and call, feeling a mixture of sadness and determination at every moment.

You continue to skip the classes you share with him, avoid the busiest hallways to minimize the possibility of an encounter and the cafeteria as well.

You honestly feel like a ghost roaming the school, all while every vibration of your phone is a pang of anxiety that you continue to be willing to ignore, unwilling to face his questions, his explanations or whatever he has to say.

You don't even know if he knows you were sent that photo. You'd rather he knew, so things would be easier or else he'd just be out to get you for wanting to know why you've been avoiding him and you have no idea how to confront him about it.

Just now you take refuge in the library, which gives you a break, trying to study and do your homework in peace. But in the middle of it, you hear footsteps approaching towards your desk and you quickly raise your gaze, alert.

Fortunately, it's just Alysanne.

“May I know why your boyfriend has been texting me like crazy asking me if I've heard from you?” she asks confused, taking a seat in front of you, watching you intently.

Your heart shrinks at the word 'boyfriend', definitely not expecting to hear this and a little chagrined you lower your gaze, biting your lips, where you are slowly filled with the need to clear things up once and for all.

“What? Did something happen?” she asks you worriedly as she observes your reaction and sad look.

“He's not my boyfriend,” you say quietly, broken and with your sad look, ”He never was.”

Alysanne frowns, clearly bewildered and watching you more intently than ever.

“What are you talking about?”

You pause for a moment, trying to find the right words and that little bit of stability before you get it all out. And with a deep sigh, you decide to be honest.

And before long, you spend the next few minutes telling Alysanne everything from the beginning. You tell her about the contract, the reasons behind it, Alys, the dinner with her family, the little arguments and what happened at Dragonstone, which was real to you.

And you also tell her about Floris, that party and the photo you received, with your sadness and the pain clearly evident in your voice.

Alysanne listens to you silently throughout, her expression shifting from surprise to understanding as she takes in every detail you say, but in the end she maintains an expression that you can't really read at all.

And when you finish, her gaze doesn't tell you much and you fearfully expect a not-so-good reaction.

“Well…” she lets out a long breath, “I wasn't expecting any of that,” she finally says, shaking her head in disbelief.

“I'm sorry, Alysane,” you say, feeling guilty for keeping the truth from her, ”I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. It was silly from the beginning.”

She looks at you with a mixture of empathy and surprise.

“No Y/N, you don't have to worry about me.“

You look at her slightly confused and fearful.

“You're not upset?”

She lets out a small chuckle under her breath, shaking her head.

“Why would I be?” she asks you blankly and you remain silent, really not having an answer, 'I mean, you're lying to everyone, not just me,” she explains, unconcerned, "I'm a little offended, yes," she admits, "But I understand it's a complicated situation."

You're surprised by her response and understanding, so you can't help but feel relief coursing through your body at still having Alysanne on your side.

“Thank you,” you tell her sincerely, giving a small sad smile, “I just didn't want you to feel betrayed.”

“Betrayed? Please, not at all,” she says incredulously, "At least not the way you feel about Aemond," she says with a more serious tone and her worried expression.

You lower your gaze, shake your head and let out a long breath, bringing one of your hands to your forehead.

“I want to believe that what happened at Dragonstone was real, but that picture…” you say sadly, "He said it was all real to him too but… I don't know," you get frustrated.

Alysanne places a hand on your arm in a supportive gesture, watching you sympathetically.

“Hey,” she says softly, wanting to get your attention and it makes you watch her with your sad eyes, ”I understand you. And you shouldn't talk to him if you don't want to. Besides you don't have to decide anything right now,” she assures you, "But eventually you will have to talk to him and you know it," she tells you honestly, ”You can't keep hiding from him forever.”

You sigh, knowing she's right, but you still feel insecure and hurt.

“I just want to understand what happened, why he didn't tell me,” you say sadly, ”But on the other hand I just want it all to be over so I don't end up more hurt than I already am.”

“Then just ask him to tell you what you need to know, after that no one will owe anyone any explanations. But if it's easier for you to just end it all, you can make that decision too, and no one will judge you for it,” she assures you, gently squeezing your arm, giving you some comfort.

The warmth of her support gives you a respite in the midst of the turmoil. And you realize that having someone who understands and doesn't judge you is invaluable at times like this.

Even if the answers aren't clear, her presence makes you feel less alone.

“Thank you, Alysanne,” you murmur, sincerely grateful.

She stays with you, advising you, while you ask her for help in knowing what you can do, what exactly to say to him if you decide to talk to him or how to end it all, making notes in your mind.

Then she talks to you about trivial things to distract you and make you laugh a little to lighten the load you're carrying, until the two of you head off to your next class.

You're running late.

Your father drive you to school today but your alarm didn't ring when it was supposed to, so now you're just running to your first class of the day, hoping the chemistry teacher will let you in.

However, the irony of fate.

Maybe being late was your purpose to finally face what you've been avoiding, as in the middle of almost running down the hallway, as you turn towards another, you come face to face with him.

You stand completely paralyzed, feeling your heart stop before it begins to beat frantically, where surprise is evident in your gaze, as Aemond's gaze lights up as he finally sees you, but confusion begins to invade him in the midst of all his emotions.

He seems as surprised as you and in the midst of all that he is feeling, a fierce determination comes over him.

And you seeing the resolve on his face, the finally understanding of what is happening, you feel a wave of panic wash over you and without a second thought, you turn and start to walk away from him as fast as you can.

'Y/N,' Aemond's voice calls out to you, urgent and full of anguish, but you refuse to look back.

'I can't.'

You think with the pain in your chest and your hands beginning to shake.

“Y/N!”

Your steps become faster, almost stumbling in your haste to get away from him, hearing his equally hurried footsteps behind you.

“Y/N, please wait!”

You don't wait. You don't even see him. You just want to walk away, but Aemond doesn't give up easily and he certainly won't now that he's finally seeing you.

“Y/N, please,” his footsteps quicken, trying to reach you, his voice more insistent, full of urgency and concern, ”Please, we need to talk.”

You know it, but right now you can't.

Tears threaten to stream down your cheeks as you walk faster, with your thoughts being a tangle of conflicting emotions, where every fiber of your being wants to escape and run away from the pain that threatens to overwhelm you.

But Aemond is having none of it anymore.

“I said wait,” he tells you just as desperately but more firmly, unwilling to let you go.

And finally, in one swift and decisive move, he reaches out and grabs your arm, forcibly stopping you with his firm but gentle grip, placing himself in front of you so as to prevent you from running away.

Biting your lips, you watch him for a second before lowering your gaze, seeing the desperation and confusion on his face.

“What?”

Is all you can barely say in a low murmur and shaky voice, straining to keep your composure, not daring to look at him, as his beautiful blue, piercing eye desperately searches yours.

“What?” he repeats in confusion, not understanding, ‘That's all you're going to say?’ he say incredulously.

“Aemond,” you call out wearily, "I don't want to do this," you mutter sadly, trying to dodge him, but he quickly blocks your path again.

“What's going on?” he demands to know, confused and desperate, ”I haven't heard from you, I was worried.”

You clench your jaw, staring at an unimportant spot in the hallway.

“I'm fine,” you say emotionlessly.

He watches you even more uncomprehendingly, his frustration growing by the second.

“Yeah, I can see that now, but you're ignoring me and I don't even know why,” he says incredulously, noticing how you avoid his gaze at all costs and lets out a bitter little laugh, "You can't even look at me," he says with his voice tinged with pain, ”What happened?”

You feel lost in your thoughts, caught between sadness and confusion. You don't even know how to begin, how to explain to him the whirlwind of emotions you've been feeling since you saw that damn picture.

You don't even know how to explain that to him.

Your mind fills with conflicting images: the moments at Dragonstone, the warmth of his hugs, the tenderness of his kisses, and then, the devastating image of him making out with Floris.

“After Dragonstone I thought everything was going great, you… you seemed great,” he says blankly, shrugging his shoulders, "Even after I dropped you off at your house and we talked, everything was fine and I don't—" he lets out a sigh, "I don't understand anything," he gestures defeatedly with his head.

You take a moment, taking a deep breath, trying to sort out your thoughts, when his voice brings you back to the moment.

“Can you at least look at me?” he asks in a sad, defeated tone.

'Can you?'

All that comes to your mind just being near him is that picture of him and Floris. You even think you're overreacting but… he should have even told you before the whole hot tub thing happened.

So with a painful effort, you finally look him in the eye and confront him.

“Were you with Floris at that party you invited me to after dinner with your family?” you ask, your voice barely audible, but laden with firmness and expectation.

Aemond freezes, his eye widening in surprise, definitely not expecting this. And that's when he knows.

He understands everything now, your behavior, your attitudes, the fact that you've been ignoring him, everything. And he can really blame you? He's really in a position to demand answers after what happened between the two of you in the hot tub?

And it's not even a question with an answer, because the answer you already have, he knows it by looking at your serious and hurt face, just waiting for the confirmation that will end up breaking your heart completely.

“Y/N…” he tries to speak, but doesn't know exactly what to say.

“Just answer me,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, ”You were with her?”

He doesn't answer.

Even after he opens his mouth to speak, words seem to fail him and he says nothing, searching for a justification that doesn't seem to come. The guilt on his face is evident and the desperation to try to fix what he has broken is reflected in every line of his expression.

And all that coupled with his silence is the answer.

You feel a lump form in your throat and your eyes begin to fill with tears. You don't know what to say or what to do, with the pain and confusion in your eyes more evident than ever.

And seeing your whole expression, Aemond feels it like a dagger in his heart, trying to find a way to ease the pain he has caused.

“Y/N, let me explain. It's not what you think—

“You kissed her,” you interrupt him, your voice breaking.

“It didn't mean anything—

“I saw the picture.”

“Y/N—

You fall silent and suddenly… you don't hear anything anymore.

Aemond's voice distorts, like an echo drifting away, as you finish processing everything that's happening.

Memories of Dragonstone mingle with the image of Aemond and Floris kissing, both on the bus, in the jacuzzi, on the beach, at the aquarium, on the yacht, again on the bus and finally at your house, creating a whirlwind of emotions that takes your breath away.

Aemond takes a step toward you with his hand extended, wanting to touch you, to hold you, but you take a step back, avoiding his touch at all costs.

“I kissed you,” you say in a broken voice, ”In the hot tub.”

“I know,” he immediately says urgently.

“I didn't pretend.”

“I know, I know Y/N, just please listen to me—

“After what happened in the hot tub, you should have been honest with me,” you interrupt him again, with anger and hurt mixed in your voice and tears starting to slide down your cheeks, ”Now I don't know what to believe. I don't know if all that meant anything to you.”

“Of course it meant something to me, Y/N,” he tells you desperately, his voice heavy with sincerity. “It meant more than you could ever think.”

“How do you expect me to believe that?” you inquire, your voice breaking.

He looks at you desperately, searching for the right words he can't seem to find.

“It was a mistake, I swear. I didn't mean to hurt you.”

“Then why didn't you tell me?” your voice rises with a mixture of pain and anger.

Aemond opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out and frustrated, he doesn't know what to say, how to explain himself, holding a hand to the back of his neck and shaking his head.

“You and I weren't really dating at the time, Y/N,” he tells you in an attempt to justify himself, his voice barely a whisper, “And I didn't think you and I would make it this far.”

You shake your head, looking at him as if you can't believe what you're hearing. Aemond lets out a long sigh, closing his eye tightly for a moment, only making the situation worse.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—

“And you've already forgotten about that?” you inquire and just as broken as before, ”The contract?”

He lets out a sigh, not knowing what else to say or what to do.

“Y/N—

“We agreed not to be with other people,” you remind him slowly and clearly, with the bitter tone in your voice, with the tears in your eyes and the pain in your gaze, “And even though it wasn't real, in their eyes you cheated on me.”

“I swear it didn't mean anything Y/N, I don't—

“And they saw at Dragonstone how delusional and naive I was with you after that.”

“I didn't tell you because I didn't want to lose you!” he finally admits to you, firm, desperate and worried, ”After what happened between us in that place… I didn't want to ruin it.”

You shake your head slightly, feeling your emotions overflowing.

“That's not justification.”

“It's the truth,” he insists, ”And I was wrong, I know. I should have told you and I'm sorry,” he exasperates, "But I swear that kiss with Floris was a mistake. And everything that happened between us was real to me, every moment, every kiss, everything was real to me Y/N," he tells you with intensity and sincerity in his gaze, ”It was and I wasn't playing with you.”

You stare at him without saying anything, because you don't know what to say and because even though Aemond is honest, still hearing that hurt you.

He tries to make you understand at that moment with everything he can that he is being completely honest with you. But then thoughts come over you, still with tears running down your cheeks.

You think of her, of Floris.

You think about everything Alysanne told you the two of them had before she decided to go on exchange, about the relationship and the complicity the two of them shared and still share.

And suddenly, the realization hits you hard.

“You still care about her,” you say with a lump in your throat.

Aemond watches you for a moment uncomprehendingly, not understanding what you say, but as you both fall silent and he watches your face, he knows what you are implying.

“Floris,” you clarify, “You still care about her,” you repeat firmly.

And he doesn't say anything.

He just watches you there not knowing what to say, with desperation and pain in his gaze. He opens his mouth to protest but can't say anything, his expression betraying him, until eventually his gaze falls to the floor, unable to hold yours.

That silence is all you need to confirm your suspicions and the weight of betrayal falls harder on your chest again.

“It's not like that, Y/N,” he tries to explain.

“That's right,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him. “That's why you didn't tell me. Because, deep down, there's still something between you.”

He looks up, the desperation in his gaze more than evident.

“Y/N, please—

“If this whole thing between us was really real to you, if it really meant that much, you would have told me,” you say, your voice breaking, each word hurting you like a stab, ”You would have been honest.”

“You don't understand,” he tells you in exasperation, reaching his limit, running a hand across his forehead, ”She was there for me when Alys and I broke up after a very ugly fight. She listened to me, kept me company, gave me advice,” he explains desperately, "And obviously it hurt me that she left, obviously I missed her, Y/N. And those feelings won't go away so easily, we both have history," he says incredulously, ”But if I assure you that kiss was a mistake Y/N, it shouldn't have happened and I'm sure she knows it too.”

His words pierce through you, a sharp pain settling in your chest. And you don't say anything, because you don't know what to say. You don't even know if you have to say anything about it.

But the reality is you don't.

You understand that his relationship with Floris is something that existed before you, but knowing that doesn't make it hurt any less, it doesn't ease the pain you feel and it definitely doesn't erase the image of that kiss in your mind.

Because that means there will always be a part of him that belongs to her, just like Alys. And this is exactly why you can't help but feel as if you're competing with her past, when you shouldn't be.

And finally, you look up, where Aemond sees in your eyes a painful resolve.

“Then I guess what happened between us was also a mistake.”

Aemond watches you in complete surprise, his eye widening in concern, his heart beginning to pound.

“No, no, Y/N, not that, I would never—

“It shouldn't have happened,” you interrupt him, firm with your statement, "Because believe it or not, if Floris hadn't gone on exchange, you and her would still be together," you say bitterly and sadly, ”She would have helped you with making Alys jealous and none of what happened between us would have happened.”

Aemond takes a step toward you, despair painted on his face.

“That's not true, Y/N. Don't say that. What happened between us was real, what I felt was real,” he insists, ‘But Floris and I… it's complicated," he says with frustration, ”But I don't care about her anymore the way I care about you, I can assure you that, because I want to be with you, I really do.”

Do you believe him?

You're not sure.

Right now you don't know what to believe, let alone what to do, to which Aemond steps forward, taking your hand, wanting to fix this because he doesn't want it to end, at least not like this.

“I'm sorry,” he murmurs, his voice breaking. “I'm so sorry, Y/N.”

You swallow hard, shake your head and with your free hand wipe the tears from your cheeks, to which he watches you worriedly, hating to see you cry.

“Me too,” you say in a mumble with your lowered gaze and hoarse voice.

You make him let go of your hand and looking at his face one last time, full of regret and despair, you turn and start to walk away.

And he of course reacts immediately.

“Please, Y/N, don't walk away. Let's talk about this. We can fix it.”

But you feel there is nothing more to say. You've heard his words, you've seen his despair, but you don't stop even with tears streaming down your cheeks.

He tries to make you stay with the anguish in his tone of voice, he asks for your forgiveness again and tries to fix everything, but all you want at that moment is to walk away and that's exactly what you do, leaving him behind.

Even though you couldn't concentrate later in the whole school day, with your mind constantly taking you back to all that has already been said, finally classes end and you get home.

Yet you had to avoid Aemond at all costs after the conversation you both had, as well as his calls and messages only increased, making your whole day worse.

And now finally in your room you can have that break.

You're still feeling down and you're thankful your father is still at work or else he'd have to watch you wiping away the tears that involuntarily fall down your cheeks at every turn.

You try to distract yourself by watching movies or series, which works, but your mood is the same and the feeling of sadness in your chest won't go away, as well as that accompanying feeling of emptiness.

You let out a long breath and lying on your bed, you distract yourself on social media, Instagram, Tiktok, whatever. Then you log on to Facebook and scroll aimlessly through your feed, reading every news and every shared post or photo.

When suddenly an announcement appears from the official Facebook page of Citadel University.

“Attention future students! The application process for new admission as well as the entire scholarship process has been finalized. Results will be sent to students soon. Watch for the mail and thank you all for your preference!”

You quickly sit up in your bed, looking at the announcement confused and surprised, with a new wave of anxiety hitting you.

This is what Aemond should have done, get you into your dream college as part of the contract, including the scholarship.

But then why didn't he tell you?

Uncertainty and fear begin to invade your mind, so you quickly open your email, assuming that news must have reached you that you got in, as he promised.

After all, you gave him all the documents and your personal information to work on your application, phone number and email included, so you should get that email soon, right?

You browse through everything you find, feeling that every second that passes increases your anxiety, checking your inbox, the spam folder, updating everything at any second, attentive and alert. But as time goes by, there is nothing.

No mail from Citadel University arrives.

Then another realization comes to your mind at that moment, with the knot in your stomach and disbelief in your gaze as you stare at your cell phone screen, unable to believe it.

The absence of news can only mean one thing: Aemond didn't keep his part of the deal.

That's why he didn't tell you anything.

general taglist:

@melsunshine @at-a-rax-ia @jxdegodfrey @ttkttt @yentroucnagol @kate-to-the-ki @iamavailablesstuff @bluerskiees @urmomsgirlfriend1 @toodlesxcuddles @rosie-posie08 @iloveallmyboys @bellaisasleep @deliaseastar @cupcakesminicakescupcakes @dixie-elocin @lilostif16 @wickedfrsgrl @a-beaverhausen @a-beaverhausen @saturnssrings @ladythornofrivia @iloveallmyboys @vhwyrm @strangersunghoon @urmomsgirlfriend1

#aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x oc #modern hotd #modern au #modern aemond

449 notes · View notes

wolfiesmoon · 9 months

Text

Shaky hands

Twisted wonderland x gn!reader

my hands are very shaky, especially when i get nervous or uncomfortable and since i often get embarrased and inconvenienced by them why not have someone comfort me for that instead ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅Malleus Draconia

Malleus just assumes you're scared of him like the rest and are pretending to stay calm.

I mean, if your hands shake so much when around him, that must be what it is. That is a clear-cut sign of fear, after all.

He doesn't mind it, but he doesn't get why you keep insisting to hang out with him then.

But you, on the other hand, like Malleus. Like like him. And it just so happens that your hands become ten times more shaky around your crush. You try to cover it up by fiddling with them and keeping them distracted but it's still obvious a lot of the time.

"Are you scared of him?" Lilia asks you, tone still calm and casual.

"Ah, no... You've got it all wrong..." you denied, cheeks heating a little.

It should be fine to tell Lilia, right? He might be a tiny little bit cunning but you doubt that he'd take this information to his advantage and blackmail you or something. He wouldn't do you like that.

"I, ummm... like him." You hid your hands behind your back to hide your obvious nervousness.

"Oh my. I never expected to hear this in a thousand years." Lilia's eyes widened slightly, but he didn't seem upset or like he was going to take advantage of you. Just pleasantly surprised.

"Just how much do you doubt Malleus...?" Lilia laughed at your comment.

"Depends on what field we're talking about. You should make a move. Who knows what might happen."

So here you are, walking next to Malleus, about to do something bold. Which happens to be gently holding his hand.

Listen, that's bold in Malleus standards.

You try to calm your hands down but nothing works so you just give up and go for it, gently taking his very still hand into your shaking one.

His hands are surprisingly warm.

"Why are you holding onto me?" He asks a bit coldly and a slight shiver runs through you. You're still not used to his cold, blunt way of speaking sometimes.

"I, ummm... how do I explain this... this is supposed to be... You know what? Do you mind it?" You just realised he might not like the feeling.

"It's strange but not particularly unwelcome. Are you not scared?" He asks, making you tilt your head. Scared of what?

"Your hands keep shaking."

"O-Oh, about that... don't worry about it. They always do." You gave him a somewhat awkward smile. He always seems to glance at your hands when you're together. So he must have been looking at that.

"Oh, I see." He replies simply.

Somehow, he feels a little relieved that you aren't afraid of him too.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅Leona Kingscholar

You narrowly avoided getting a corrosive potion spilled on you just 10 minutes ago, and your hands are still shaking from the adrenaline.

Oh my god, why does this school insist on giving you a new heart attack every day? When it isn't Grim, Deuce and Ace causing trouble it's narrowly avoiding being melted by a potion.

You don't know why, but you ended up in the garden where Leona sometimes falls asleep. Your legs just kind of took you there.

He was already awake when you found him.

"Why are you here? I thought you actually cared about class, or something." He yawned.

"I actually.... don't really know." You looked off at some of the plants, too awkward to look him in the eye.

"What happened?" He asked all of a sudden. You must still look scared and shaken up.

"Ummm, a dangerous potion almost spilled all over me." You explained, twiddling your fingers to make your hands look less shaky.

He sighed. "If that's all, then stop shaking like a leaf." He sounded annoyed, but you doubt that he actually was. He almost seemed relieved.

"It's not that easy, genius." You shot back, furrowing your brows.

Suddenly he grabbed both of your arms, clasping them together in his own. "There. Problem solved." You had no idea if he held your hands on purpose or if that's just his simple solution to prevent shaky hands.

The slight blush on his cheeks would compel you to think it's the former.

Actually, you're not sure if you want to know the answer. What in the world would you do if a prince fell in love with you? It's a children's story book you don't even want to begin to imagine right now, as tempting as it is.

"Hey, Leona! I brought you your- Ooooh!~"

You tried pulling your hands away but Leona's grasp was too tight. He could have easily let go of your hands and pretended nothing's happened, but he didn't. Okay, now this is really weird.

"Since when are you into herbivores?" Ruggie smirked.

"Shut up, Ruggie."

Ruggie looked to you, looking for a possible explanation from you instead.

"No comment." you avoided eye contact.

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅Riddle Rosehearts

You looked really nervous and scared to Riddle at that moment. And you really were.

You have a really important test in 15 minutes and your hands can't seem to calm down. You're already getting frustrated at them, attempting to stabilize them against a surface or taking deep breaths, but alas, nothing works.

"You seem to be troubled." He mentioned, glancing down at your hands.

"Oooh, it's really obvious, isn't it...?" You sighed. This is way too embarrasing.

"It's quite alright, I get how you feel." Riddle's tone became a little quieter and more gentle and he sat down next to you.

"Can you distract me for a bit? I mean, if you aren't too busy with dorm stuff." You fiddled with your fingers, hoping he would say yes.

Riddle is strangely calm around you. When you're with Ace, Grim and Deuce he's his usual uptight dorm leader self but when the two of you are alone that tone fades away.

How strange.

"Are you listening?" Riddle snaps you out of it, furrowing his brows.

"Sorry, could you repeat that?" You scratched the back of your head clumsily.

"You're always lost in thought. You should get rid of that habit. And it's rude to not listen to the other person when they speak." He scolds you. Sometimes he worries that you do that in class, too.

"Right..." you clenched your shirt, hand still shaking a little.

"This clearly isn't going to work. Let's revise one last time together." He clapped his hands, waiting for you to take out your notebook.

"Are you sure you have the time to be doing this?" You asked, now really worried that you're keeping him from something important he should be doing.

"It's shameful of me, truly." Riddle sighed, not explaining what he meant any further and leaning the notebook towards you so you can revise.

Somehow, he's willing to ignore his house warden duties to help you calm down. He wants to be concerned by that, but how can he leave you alone when you look so worried?

I swear i intended to write for someone new this time😭 oh well maybe next time

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juleswritesstuff · 5 days

Text

Holy hands, will they make me a sinner ?

You seem to have a little secret. Regulus figures you out immediately.

regulus black x fem!reader

warnings: smut

His voice brings you back from the apparent state of trance you had unconsciously fallen into. Blinking rapidly, you regain perception of the walls of your dorm room surrounding you and the myriad of books scattered across your bed. You shift your gaze to his gray eyes and you find them already set on you.

“If you bore holes in them I won't be able to finish my essay, Y/n”

“Pardon ?” your voice has a confused edge that almost makes him chuckle.

“My hands” he explains, his tone as neutral as ever “You were staring”

Your eyes go a little wide, like you had been caught stealing the last chocolate frog of the stash. You swallow, trying to compose yourself as best as you can.

“I was doing no such thing” you declare, a bit too solemn and defensive to be the truth.

Regulus pins you with an unimpressed look, his left brow arching just enough to tell you that he isn't buying any of your bullshit.

A defeated sigh leaves your lips.

It is no use hiding something from Regulus Black. He will find out one way or another, and you got caught right with your hands in the jar.

“Ok, fine” you admit, lifting your shoulders to make it seem like the most casual thing ever “I was looking at your hands”

Regulus’ expression doesn't change, but the glint of amusement flashing in his eyes doesn't go unnoticed.

“More like ogling, I would say” even his tone has a playful bite to it.

You like this side of him. The Regulus who is able to relax a bit and let go when he is surrounded by the people he is comfortable with.

But carefree Regulus also means menace Regulus apparently.

“I wasn't ogling” you grumble, rolling your eyes “I was just admiring them”

His eyebrows furrow.

“Why ?” he questions, intrigued.

Why, he has the courage to ask.

Well the answer is that Regulus Black has the prettiest, hottest, most gorgeous hands you have ever laid eyes on.

They are elegant, slender, the little veins underneath the pale skin gracing your eyes with their presence with every movement he makes, every flex of his muscles, producing a delicious design that hypnotizes you.

They are smooth but decorated by light calluses, undoubtedly caused by Quidditch, that create a divine contrast with his otherwise untainted skin.

His fingers are long, lean, clad in silver rings that make your mouth water with how exquisitely sultry they make him look.

And suddenly, but not surprisingly, you find yourself imagining what it would feel like to have those hands on you, exploring every inch of your body, dancing on your skin like flames dance in the cold hair of the night. The cool metal of his rings being at odds with your scorching hot skin, making you hiss as his skilled fingers create a burning path over your body, traveling everywhere. Your legs, your thighs, your hips, chest, shoulders and stopping right at your neck, wrapping delicately, reverentially around it. Worshipping the sensitive skin, feeling the erratic pulse of your heart and-

“You’re doing it again” his words interrupt your spiraling for the second time that day, sounding dry and apathetic as always, but a hint of teasing twinkles in the otherwise coldness of his eyes.

You really hope Regulus didn't learn to cast a Legilimes in his free time, otherwise you were well and truly screwed.

“You have nice hands, that’s all” you manage to say without giving away all the less than pure thoughts flooding your mind in that moment. “From an artist point of view, obviously” you add, shrugging, trying to make everything less than obvious.

Which is both extremely annoying and criminally hot in your humble opinion.

Bringing up your passion for drawing is futile and you know it. You know he knows the drooling over his hands isn't for the sake of art. You can't fool Regulus Black, not even if you try to.

But pretending is the only thing you can do to not feel embarrassed, holding onto the hope that maybe he doesn’t have you all figured out.

“So you’re saying that your interest is purely artistic ?” he asks, cocking a brow as his head tilts slightly.

There’s something in his voice, in his eyes, that you can’t quite figure.

Your forehead scrunches in confusion.

“Yes, of course” you answer, trying to hide the stutter of your voice as best you can.

You are pretty sure he knows that you aren’t telling the truth, he somehow always knows. He reads you like an open book, and, for someone who doesn’t engage in showing his emotions too often, he is pretty damn good at reading the ones of others.

So why that question ? You almost expected him to tell you to cut it out and get back to study because that essay isn’t gonna finish itself.

“Would you like to draw them ?” he offers.

This is new, unexpected.

Interesting.

Your eyes go wide in surprise.

Wait.

What ?

You never brought up the suggestion either. He is a reserved guy and he loathes having eyes on him, so you figured he would’ve never accepted even if you did.

Never, in all the years you have known each other, had he offered to model for you.

He knew about you having an interest in arts, he even saw a couple of your drawings and paintings and he often asked about them and how they were coming up, but he never asked to be in them.

That never stopped you from sketching him from afar, though. Those gorgeous features deserve to be portrayed.

But why the sudden proposition ?

You aren’t stupid. Regulus might know you like the back of his hand, but you could say the same about him. And this, whatever this might be, is not like him at all.

Regulus never does anything for nothing, there is always an explanation, a reason to his every move. You think even his breaths are perfectly calculated.

But this time the why gets lost on you, and the harder you try to understand the less it all makes sense.

“I can see the gears in your brain twinsting and turning,” he says, calm and composed as ever.

He is sitting on your bed, the quill he was using to write his Charms paper now abandoned next to him. His back is perfectly straight, leaning on the headbord to support his weight. The raven strands of his hair create soft waves that frame his face in a delicate and enchanting way. His lips are stretched in a rare, playful smile, curling up slightly on the left side.

He is beautiful. Dangerously so.

“It’s just-” you are confused, there is no doubt about that, but most of all you are intrigued “You have never asked me before” you point out.

“I know”

That’s his only answer. Simple, concise. Enigmatic.

Just like him.

“So why now ?”

The question escapes your lips before you can stop it. You can’t help it, curiosity is consuming you, and the possibility of learning a new part of him makes your skin tingle with excitement.

“Why not ?” he retorts “There is a first time for everything, right ? So why not now ?”

There is still that glint of something in his eyes. You don’t know what it is, you don’t think you would be able to give it a name even if you knew, but it's there, and it’s strong.

“I’ll get my supplies then”

You slowly get up from the bed, feeling your heart in your throat in a mix of anticipation and nervousness, and you retrieve your album and a pencil.

When you sit back down you notice that the books have been neatly stacked in a small pile next to your bed and all the papers, previously scattered all over your sheets, are nowhere to be seen.

“Figured we might need the space” he says, like he read your mind.

“Thank you”, you give him a small smile before opening your album, turning the pages one by one, until you find a blank sheet, ready to be filled.

“Where do you need me ?”

The way he utters those words with the utmost nonchalance, apparently unaware of the effect they have on you, nearly sends you into cardiac arrest.

Everywhere, you think, before mentally smacking yourself.

You need to get a grip, for Merlin’s sake.

“Right there is fine,” you manage to say without your voice faltering “just angle your hands towards me, so the light is right”

He does as he is told, adjusting his position and moving his hands a bit to the right, veins in full display and rings shining under the warm rays of the sunset seeping through the window.

“That’s good” you state, your mouth suddenly dry.

He is a bit far, and the light doesn’t hit as perfectly as you had expected, but you’ll work with it. If squinting your eyes a bit is the price to maintain your mental sanity then so be it.

Then you start drawing. The only sound filling the room is the gentle scraping of your pencil as your eyes focus on the white sheet in front of you, your gaze shifting to his hands ever so often to take a peek at them, like you haven't learnt every detail by heart.

You can feel his eyes on you. You try not to focus on it, but the shivers those pools of the color of a summer storm send down your spine are difficult to ignore.

“You’re straining your eyes” he blurts out of the blue. And it’s not a question.

Observant as always.

“It’s fine,” you assure him, your gaze never leaving the paper “this distance is good for perspective”

“But it’s a problem for the lighting”

Those words make you lift your head up, your brows knotted in a frown.

How does he-

“And what would you know about the lighting ?” you eye him suspiciously, a small grin curving your lips.

“I guess all your rambles about that muggle painter weren’t in vain” he says, and there’s a cheekiness in his tone that is completely new to you “Caravaggio, right ?”

Your grin turns into a full smile.

“Right,” you nod, your eyes widening a little “I can’t believe you actually remember”

“I remember a lot of things,” he remarks defensively.

“Only those important enough to you” the teasing in your voice is light, playful, as your pencil glides on the sheet swiftly, adding strokes and shadows here and there.

There’s a beat of silence.

One second. Two. Three. And then-

“Exactly”

Your hand halts every movement, freezing completely. You look up from your paper and you find his gaze already on you.

Suddenly you are lost. Your heart is beating so fast you wouldn’t be surprised if he was actually able to hear it.

The implications of that single word swirl in your brain, creating a hurracane of thoughts that almost gives you whiplash.

He doesn’t give you the time to even think properly about what he may have just suggested, because he decides to speak again.

“I can come closer if you need me to” his voice is lower, deeper, oozing with that same something he’s had in his eyes since he caught you staring at his heavenly hands.

You want to scream. You have no idea of what the hell is going on and it’s confusing the shit out of you.

You know he is asking for that forsaken drawing you still have in your lap, but it somehow doesn’t feel like it. The electricity in the room is so high it feels like an open cable sending sparks flying everywhere, setting the air on fire.

The only coherent thought in your brain is a chorus of yes, please and nothing else.

So you cave.

“You can,” you manage to say, because the necessity to protect your sanity might be strong, but the need to have him close to you is apparently stronger “if you want to”

His gaze is so penetrating you feel it in your soul, consuming you from the inside out and setting your whole body ablaze.

It’s compelling, hypnotizing even.

“This is not about what I want, Y/n”

Oh, the way those words leave his perfect lips, making shudders erupt all over your body should be studied.

Your world shifts on its axes and it starts spinning ten times faster. Because he knows.

He knows.

“We're not talking about art anymore, are we ?” you ask, swallowing soundly as your breath gets stuck in your throat.

“Were we ever talking about that in the first place ?” his question is rhetorical. He doesn’t need an answer because he already knows it. He figured you out, like he always does.

So what was the point in pretending anymore ?

“No,” you admit “I guess we weren't” your trambling hands move the paper out of the way.

There is a spark in his eyes. It’s foreign, thrilling even, and it makes your skin prickle in the best way.

Suddenly he moves. He shifts his weight forward, approaching you slowly. The veins in his arms and hands bulging from the pressure and knocking the air out of your lungs in the process.

“So tell me” he whispers, crawling to you bit by bit, like a hunter advancing towards his prey. He seems to be calm, poised, totally in control of his body as he comes closer and closer.

It’s his eyes that betray him.

They have always been the window to his feelings, talking more than his mouth even did. And right now they are burning, engulfed by a heat that makes your legs weak and your heart roar. The realization hits you, a rush of adrenaline running through your veins.

They are hungry.

“Tell you what ?” you stutter, unable to regain a hold of yourself. You can’t breathe, your palms are sweaty, you feel hot all over and he is close, so damn close.

He stops right in front of you, mere inches between your faces and a tension so heavy you can cut it with a butter knife.

“What you want” the warmth of his breath delicately caresses your skin. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, his eyes following the movement intently almost making you squirm under his gaze.

“You seem to know what I want” you say breathlessly, your body heating up in response to his proximity.

Those hands, protagonists of some of the filthiest dreams you’ve ever had, are right next to you. Close enough to graze the skin of your thighs with his knuckles, but never indulging in the act. Like he is teasing you, waiting for you to beg for it. You shift your gaze to them and you swallow hard, the need to feel them on you growing stronger every second that passes.

You are about to fucking combust.

His silver eyes are still fixed on you, intense and magnetic, as they follow your line of sight.

“I won't move a muscle unless you tell me to, Y/n”

Those words, mouthed so close to your lips and mixed with the low, velvet-like husk of his voice, make your legs clench and your stomach churn in the best way possible.

You can’t take it anymore.

You move forward, abandoning your position on the bed to place your legs on each side of his hips, almost straddling him. Your hands are on his shoulders, helping you to keep your balance, feeling the lean muscles underneath the shirt as you hover over him.

His head tilts up, eyes sharp and hot and glued to yours. You hear him suppress a hiss as your thighs brush his hips. His arms are still next to him, hands gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles turn white.

He is restraining himself. From touching you.

Your thoughts are clouded, your mind hazy and completely out of it. The only thing you want right now is for him to place those perfect fucking hands on you and never stop.

“Do it” your voice is so weak and breathy it’s a miracle he hears you.

“Do what” he mouths, so close to your lips it makes your head spin.

You’re needy, desperate even, but you don’t care. You don’t have time to think right now. You want to feel.

“Touch me” you beg.

“Where ?” he sounds just as gone as you are, and you finally crumble.

“Everywhere”

It’s nothing more than a whisper but it shakes the both of you like an earthquake.

You meet in the middle, your lips colliding and completely knocking the breath out of you.

His mouth is sinful, greedy, chasing yours with a hunger that almost makes you melt on the spot. You get lost in the softness of it, in the ungodly brush of your tongues making you moan breathlessly. You bite and nibble and lick and he follows you, matching the languid pace just as eagerly, as your hands tangle in his hair, pulling at the black strands delicately. The low groan that escapes his throat sends goosebumps all over you.

You are so focused on the filthy dance of your mouths that you almost miss the agonizingly slow graze of his fingers on the exposed flesh of your legs, gently tracing a path on your thighs.

The metal of his rings meets the hotness of your skin and you hiss.

Oh, it’s just as delicious as you imagined.

“Ah- fuck” you pant, millimeters away from him. Your head feels light, dizzy.

You feel like you’re dreaming, lost in your own fantasies.

But his hands running up and down your thighs feel too fucking good to be just a product of your imagination. They travel slowly, excruciatingly so, making you lose your mind with every new inch of skin they explore.

Until they sneak under your skirt, reaching your hips to gently knead the supple skin, applying enough force to bring you forward.

“Sit” It feels more like a plea than an order but-

Holy shit.

A gasp escapes your mouth before you can stop it.

Every cell of your body threatens to explode as he pushes your weight on him all the way, making you straddlle him completely.

“Fucking finally” he curses, more to himself than to you, like he has been waiting for this moment his whole life.

His eyes are dark, fogged up by lust and need, and it's the lewdest thing you have ever witnessed.

“I have never seen you like this” you whisper directly on his lips, nibbling on the plush flesh.

He smirks, smirks for Salazar's sake, as his fingers move, reprising their mission to make you lose every ounce of control.

“It seems you were busy looking at something else”

His thumbs rub the skin of your inner thigh in a hypnotizing manner, sending bolts of electricity down your spine.

You whimper as they get closer and closer to your core, your grip on the junction between his neck and shoulder tightening in pleasure.

But he must take it as some sort of sign of discomfort because he halts suddenly.

“Want me to stop ?” he asks, his eyes searching for yours, the veiled concern in them making your heart stutter.

“Don’t you even dare” you say, a mere breath away from him before you dive in, capturing his mouth again.

It's messy and dirty and you get addicted to his taste way too quickly.

His hands move up, massaging your skin at every caress of your tongues, until they reach the hem of your panties.

He moves away from your lips for a quick moment, and he looks at you.

The silent ‘Can I ?’ written in his eyes almost makes you swoon.

You nod your head.

“I need words, chérie” he whispers sensually.

The combination of his right hand so close to your most sensitive spot, his left one traveling up to your hip, holding it tightly, posessivly, and that fucking pet name almost make you cum on the spot.

“Yes” you practically beg.

Only then he resprises his journey of exquisit torture along your body.

“Shit-” you quiver as he kisses your neck, branding the sensitive skin with his lips and teeth. His hands move, fingers skilled and sinful as they reach your heat.

You mewl as they make contact with the light material of your underwear.

“Jesus Christ” hs hisses a groan “you’re soaked”

A series of choked out whimpers leaves your lips as he strokes his fingers over your panties, feeling your wetness through the fabric.

“Fuck- Reg” a moan ripples from your lips when his thumb brushes your clit tentativley, making you gasp. Your hands fly to his hair, lightly pulling the soft strands with trembling fingers.

“Look at you, all horny and needy over my hands” his voice is tantalizing but you can hear the breathlessness, the strain in it. He is affected by this just as much as you are and it makes you go almost feral.

“Please” you breathe. You don’t even know what you’re begging for. Your mind is too hazy, too fogged up by lust and need to have a single coherent thought in it.

But he sure does know, because his digits move your panties to the side, just enough to glide over your slickness, making contact with the tender skin of your folds and spreading your wetness all over.

Finally, finally the hands consuming your every thought are on you, right where you had craved and imagined them the most.

You arch your back in ecstasy, biting your lip.

And it’s when his middle finger eases inside of you, slowly breaching your velvety walls, that you lose it completely.

The air gets knocked out of your lungs, liquid fire engulfs every cell of your body, every nerve and muscle consumed by pleasure.

“Regulus-” it’s the only thing you manage to mewl as he slides in and out of you in a rhythm so sensual and sultry it makes you melt. The cold metal of his ring meets the warm, sensitive skin of your cunt with every prod, creating a delicious contrast.

You never break eye contact, your gazes locked together drinking in every little detail, every wave of bliss swimming in them.

“Is this what you fantasized about, love ?” he pants right on your lips “All the times I caught you staring, is this what you were imagining my hands doing ? Fucking you senseless, feeling how tight and needy you are ?”

His words are as dirty as his eyes as he slides another finger into you, making you inhale sharply and stretching you out so good you could almost cry.

“Ohmygod” you moan as your hips start moving to their own accord, meeting the prodding of his fingers eagerly, riding his hand like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do.

“But this is not the only fantasy you have, right chérie ?” he asks, going faster, harder, pumping mercilessly and leaving you a blubbering mess.

His left hand leaves its place on your hip and moves up, grazing the soft skin of your stomach, the supple and tender flesh of your breasts, the natural dip of your collarbones, worshipping every inch of your skin in their path, until they reach their goal.

“I bet you thought about this too, didn't you ?”

You were always sure this would remain just one of your daydreams, the kind of dirty thought that should remain in your mind and nowhere else. But Regulus Black was Regulus Black and reading you was one of his favorite hobbies.

It still comes as a surprise, though, when he delicately wraps his hand around your throat, resting it there, feeling every pulse of your heart, every pump of your blood and adorning your neck with the prettiest fucking necklace you could ever ask for.

“Yes” it’s nothing more than a breath, but it sends him into a frenzy. His right thumb rubs your clit relentlessly, adding to the unforgiving pace of his fingers sliding in and out of you with lewd, wet squelches. The whimpers coming out of your mouth are raw, filthy and downright pornographic as you feel your orgasm approaching.

Your head is in the clouds, a hundred thousands miles from earth as the only thing you can focus on is the feeling of his hands on you, fucking you to your release as the one on your neck squeezes the faintest bit, enough to almost send you over the edge.

His left thumb leaves its place right above your jugular, moving upwards to caress your jawline, your cheek and, lastly, your lips.

You can feel the digit caressing the red, bitten flesh, brushing it with reverence, worshiping it with his whole being. His heated gaze is bewitched, entranced by your mouth parting, welcoming him past your lips, and lightly grazing the pad with your teeth, before enveloping it wholly, letting him feed you the taste of his finger.

“Bloody fucking hell, Y/n” he rasps, voice low and dangerously close to pleading as you suck on his thumb like it's the tastiest treat you have ever put in your mouth.

The hand on your cunt speeds its pace, pounding in and out of you like a fucking machine, the vibrations on your little bundle of nerves getting more intense by the second, sending you over the edge in a mess of moans and whimpers.

“Reg, fuck, I'm-”

You reach your release with his name on your lips, back arched and hips rolling to help you ride your orgasm on those unholy fingers of his.

Your vision is blurred, your brain fuzzy and overwhelmed by bliss as you slowly come back to your senses.

It takes you a few seconds to regain control of your body and mind, but when you do you are graced with a vision you are sure you will never forget.

The ever composed and collected Regulus Black is right in front of you with his expression contorted in pure lust, eyes bleary and unfocused, hair tousled by your hands relentlessly stroking them, lips red and glossy from the heated kisses, tie loose, crooked and shirt crumpled.

He is a mess.

The hottest mess you have ever seen.

You're still not fully out of your head space when he speaks again.

“You're loud” he grins, his tone teasing but still a little raspy.

“You're filthy” you bite back weakly, your voice hoarse and strained.

“Maybe” he says “but I think I'm not the only one”

The fingers that have been inside of you not even a moment ago are now in front of you, coated and glistening with your essence.

He slowly brings them closer to your mouth, and you don't even think twice before eagerly welcoming them inside it.

The taste of yourself mixes with the metallic tinge of his rings as you suck leisurely, restraining a moan before he takes them out with a wet pop.

“Sale fille” he groans in french, lowly and right on your parted lips, before he dives in an alluring kiss. (Dirty girl)

It's slower than all the others you shared, but it's deeper, sensual and it almost gets you worked up all over again.

His tongue meets yours in a erotic dance and when the taste of your very essence coats his tastebuds a moan rumbles in his throat.

“You're sweet” he murmurs, nibbling on your lower lip gently.

“Want me to find out if you're sweet, too ?” You offer with a teasing smile on your lips . His hands might be your biggest fantasy, but they sure as hell are not the only part of him you fantasize about.

“Eager, are we ?” he questions playfully, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear “Not today, chérie”

The little pet name creates butterflies in your stomach and makes your cheeks warm, but doesn't hide your disappointment.

“Why ?” you ask, your hands going to fiddle with his tie.

“As I told you, this is not about what I want” he explains, his arms circling you in a loose hug “and I don't know if you noticed, but it's pretty late”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, and only then you realize that the sun has already set and the room would be totally surrounded by darkness if it wasn't for the few magic candles lighting up automatically when twilight hits.

Your eyes widen.

“How long have we been here for ?” your voice has a panicked hint to it, making Regulus laugh.

“I'm pretty sure dinner is getting served right now” he says nonchalantly, like it's the most normal thing ever to engage in sexual activities with your best friend and miss supper because of it.

“Which might be for the best,” he adds.

“Why ?” you ask in genuine confusion.

“Because I’m the only one lucky enough to hear your dirty little sounds” he says with a shit-eating grin before kissing you again.

Thank you for reading 💖

314 notes · View notes

twisted-wonderland-but-gayer · 1 year

Note

May I request Great Seven Yuu with no filter? Maybe the other students are just TESTING THEM that day and with a little prodding from their darling parents, they just say what’s on their mind for the day

Yuu + The Great Seven

Note: This is different from my other great 7 fics as I don't focus on what the 7 say as much here, this also aint the canon unit yuu for this. Anyways enjoy

Cws: Gn!Yuu, Rook is clowned on cause he's French, implications of Crewel/Crowley but in a divorcee way, some cringe ig, minor changes to canon, first years are ur homies, sebek has moments where he yells in all caps cause he's cringe, Lilia knows Maleficent, Trey isn't slandered as much as he should be, Starts off Crack, turns to angst, then fluff. 6k Words

****

Since arriving at NRC, you have been playing your role well, excellent even. You played the role of a magicless, weak, and gullible prefect that knew nothing of the world you were in. The mirror said that you “had too many souls to judge” and that you had no magic, which was technically true as the magic you had was borrowed from the seven sealed within you.

It was going to be perfect. You can finally lay low and research this world to give your dear seven parents and their familiars bodies again, then make your place in this new world… or so you thought.

Right after the disaster that was the entrance ceremony, you ended up being roommates with the cat and crashed it. Fine, you could work with this. Then the very next day, the cat got into a fight with a pathetic bully which caused a statue to get burned, which then caused another person to get involved, which then caused a chandelier to break, and then you had to go off into a hidden mine to fight a monster late into the night, and you get the story.

It has been consistently difficult to pretend you had no magic, or to make the excuse that “someone else must have casted that spell”. When you eventually had to explain that you were a magician, there went the first half of your plan. Now Crowley and everyone seems to expect more from you, at least you were able to pretend it was weak, you guess. And as if it could get any worse, the seven seem to be encouraged to give these brats a taste of their own medicine and stop holding back. Oh how you would love to but putting up with everyone after, especially the number one pain in your ass, Ace, would be so fucking annoying.

The aforementioned pain in your ass poked you, interrupting the mental conversation you were having with the ensemble in your head, and you had to hold back the urge to use Hades’ flames to set him ablaze. You shut your eyes tightly and tense up before slowly turning to him. “What?” Your eyes narrow as Ace looks over at you with the most infuriating neutral expression that turns to a pout.

“Were you even listening to me?” “Look, it’s nothing personal, it’s just how I am.” Ace’s lips pursed as he raised a brow. “Really?” Deuce nudged Ace. “Hey, be nice, you know they don't mean to space off like that, it's their condition.” Deuce was truly a blessing. “Seems to me like Yuu is just a space case,” Grim snickered and Sebek nodded his head. “I completely agree with Grim! Honestly, how could you and Silver be so complacent? Do you lack discipline?”

You mentally groaned with the seven at Sebeks scolding. “They don’t lack discipline,” Jack interrupted, “Yuu says they have a condition that delays their thoughts, they need extra time to process what you said.” “Thank you, Jack.” You smile, and feel Ortho glide right next to you and look up at you. “Having a condition like that must be hard… I can't imagine my processor lagging…” Ortho trails off and frowns, “Oh but I’ll try my best to look for a fix for you!” The child beams. Epel looks over at you.

“That is one hell of an issue huh? Some days you're just as quick as anyone else but then sometimes you take forever, it's a fickle thing.” Epel hums and Ace rolls his eyes at everyone defending you. “Tch, yeah what's that about? Sometimes I even hear you talking to yourself, weirdo.” Ace playfully nudges you and you narrow your eyes at him.

Something within you snaps. Maybe it’s because of all the stress of hiding it. Maybe it's because you have to interact and pretend everything is fine to the students who have bullied, harassed, and tried to kill you resulting in god awful PTSD finally making you snap. Or maybe it's just because you want this damned asshole that has wormed his way into your heart to shut up.

“Because ‘thought processing disorder’ isn’t the best way to actually describe my condition, Ace, but it's sure as hell easier to explain than ‘I have several voices in my head judging me and telling me what to do all the time and no medication cannot stop it no matter what I do and all of your stupid comments and questions makes them erupt in a 10 minute yelling match making it impossible to hear my own thoughts!”

You sneer at them all as they look over with a mix of surprise and pity, Ortho looks like a kicked puppy. You sigh, “I’m sorry, I just…” “Nah that's nothing to apologize for…” Ace sighs, and you know he wants to apologize but pride won't allow him. “Y’know what if you just say what the voices want to say?” Deuce suddenly asks out of the blue.

“O-of course, I don't know what they say so maybe it's not a good idea but…” “Actually, it may give Ace some patience for once.” Jack gives a small smirk. “We all know he needs to learn to think before he speaks.” “Hey!” Ace huffs. “Fine then, bring it! I can take whatever you throw at me.” And the ginger smirks as if he didn't just say some famous last words.

“You're serious?” You blink. “Do you even think you could handle it?” Sebek scoffs, “I can take anything a measly human dishes out, it is nothing compared to fae!” Epel shuts his eyes in annoyance. “Oh you three don’t even know what you’re getting into, yet you’re already signing up for trouble.” Ortho beams. “Actually, this might help me collect some data to help you, Yuu!” “You four don’t even know what you're getting yourselves into…” Epel corrects himself.

“Okay okay.” You sigh. “Tomorrow, I will allow whatever they say, happen… to an extent at least…” You mutter, making Hades and the Queen of Hearts in your head boo you. Last thing you need is an Arson charge….

****

You laid down on your bed later that day as the sun began to set. “Okay guys… there are only a few ground rules. No murder, and no major property damage, small fires are okay, okay?” Before any of the seven and their familiars could respond or complain, you heard Grim.

“Who’re you talking to? Oh wait, you speaking to the guys in your head?” Grim asked, jumping on the bed and cuddling up to you. “First the mouse in the mirror and now you have some voices in your head, what other secrets are you keeping from me, hmm?” 'A lot actually', you think as you stroke Grim’s fluffy head. “You’ll see tomorrow.” You smile and your excitement made it difficult to sleep that night.

****

You got up, did your daily routine that Mama Grimhilde has laid out for you, before exiting the house with Grim in your arms for breakfast. Of course you haven’t forgotten the deal you made today at all. ‘Pssst, hey small sib~’ Flotsam chuckles darkly in your head, ‘Can I bite someone today?’ You chuckle, “Only if they deserve it.” Grim peeked up at you. “Oh yeah, you’re talking out loud today.” Grim smirks, “I wonder how Explodey-Head’s gonna react to that!”

Slinking into the cafeteria, you get into line per usual, getting a tray of whatever was free that you liked, you had to pinch your pennies this week. Sitting down, you notice that your usual squad was there, including Ace and Deuce, who usually took their time to arrive, and Ortho who usually had to deal with his brother. “Good morning.” You say settling down. “Morning, Yuu!” Ortho beams, “I got here early so I can start the data collection! I'll try to record as much as possible!”

‘Oh how precious.’ Ursula purrs in your head, and the seven’s consensus on Ortho, even if they didn’t appreciate anklebiters, is that he wasn’t half bad. “So, today you're going to embrace your issues, I SAY BRING IT ON!” Sebek yells, making everyone wince, and Epel shoots a tired glare. ‘Tell that boy to silence! I am trying to nap!’ Scar huffs.

You nervously sigh, “Well first off all, they said to shut up please, it's not even 7 in the morning.” Sebek looks offended for a moment, but a very familiar voice interrupts, sending shivers down your spine. “Oh Koebi-Chan~” A wry voice purrs, making Grim hop off of you to hide. Everyone in your head went ‘oh no this guy again.’

You honestly didn’t mind Floyd, hell, you dare to consider him a friend, but you really were not in the mood for his antics today. “Hey Floyd,” You sigh, “look dude, I’m not in the mood today, can you please leave me alone?” You ask, and your words just make Floyd beam. The seven seem annoyed, but then you feel their excitement; your first victim. 'Humiliate the boy…' Jafar whispers to you.

Floyd drapes himself over you as you eat, occasionally leaning over to try and steal a bite from whatever was on your fork. “Ehh? Little shrimpy’s feeling bold today!~ How fun! Whatcha gonna do about me?~” His arms wrap around you to squeeze around your rib cage, “Especially when I squeeze…”

“Dude, leave them alone.” Deuce says before freezing at the glare he was shot. "…Please?” He adds. “Look Floyd,” Jack sighs, “we’re trying to get Yuu some help today with an illness, Ortho is trying to get data on them, you aren’t helping.” Jack interrupts, trying to keep your condition vague for your privacy. Seems like Jack forgot that Floyd ignores reason when he finds it funny.

“Ooo~, is the little shrimpy sick?” Floyd says backing off of you slightly and poking you in the ribs. “You know Azul may have a remedy for it, you should come on down.~” “He does not, and for the final time there is nothing he can offer me that would make me want to make a deal with him. Please go away.” You warn one last time and Floyd leans in, pushing his luck in hopes to see you squirm. Ortho glares and prepares to get up and send him away but you hold out your hand to tell him to stop.

“Whatcha gonna do lil shrimpy?~” Floyd smirks. ‘Is it time?’ Hades asks, ‘Please tell me its time.’ You smile and mentally reply, ‘it’s time.’ You keep your calm smile as you look at Floyd. “Probably something my father taught me.” “And what's that?” Floyd says, grabbing the back of your neck.

“This.” Suddenly you erupted in the brightest blue flames the world has ever seen making half of the cafeteria turn to stare. Your friends at the table all jump back and Ortho flashes red as he scans you. As quickly as the flames came to be, they disappeared. Floyd pulled his hands away, waving it off to cool it down. He wasn’t burned, at least nothing major, but the sleeve of his uniform was singed and he stared at it in rapt fascination.

You expected him to get annoyed, or to maybe start a fight, or something, but Floyd was in a good mood, and he laughed. “I didn’t know little shrimpy could do that! I thought you could only summon an ember, eheheh!~ Seems little shrimpy has more secrets than we thoooought~” Floyd muses, and suddenly another familiar face comes in, one that looks exactly like Floyd.

“Floyd, I believe the prefect doesn’t want to play anymore. Come on now, we should go.” “Aww but I wanna keep playing!” “I know brother dearest, but it seems that the cruel and unwavering Prefect doesn't want to,” Jade faked a frown and sighed, “How awful, if only they could have an ounce of compassion for my poor, poor brother… However, ” Jade opened his eyes back up and smirked, staring directly at you with a twinkle in his eye. “I think it’s best to leave them alone for today, especially since whatever ailment they have seems to make them erupt in flames at any given moment…”

The eel’s voice drips with faux concern and Floyd snickers, Azul is gonna have some wonderful intel to ponder over later. You decide to say exactly what all of your fathers thinking. “Go eat shit and die for all I care.” And Jade’s eyes widen ever so slightly before the gleam with amusement, having never seen this side of you. “Of course prefect! If this ah… ailment continues to cause you trouble, please do let us know. We at Octavinelle love to help the poor and unfortunate.”

You watched the two slink off before turning back to your meal as all of your first year friends gawked at you. “What the hell was that! You never said you could do that!” Ace sputtered. “Yeah! You nearly cooked me!” Grim whines, making the audience in your head relish in their surprise. Ursula and The Queen of Hearts seem particularly amused.

“Magic like that requires a lot of skill.” Sebek ponders, “To cast a flame cloak and not burn yourself requires a lot of concentration, furthermore it requires a high amount of magic potential on par with fae. Didn’t you say you have none, Yuu? HAVE YOU BEEN LYING ABOUT WHAT YOU ARE? OR PERHAPS YOU WANTED TO HIDE IT TO SKIRT OUT ON EXAMS!” “Volume!” Deuce whines, and Grimhilde mentally thanks him.

“Oh… whoops…” “WHOOPS??” A few of the first years yell and Epel shoots you an ugly-baffled expression. “Whoops?? Whoops?? Is that all you have to say about that? You performed some of the most advanced defensive magic without a second thought and you just say whoops??” Epel’s accent threatens to slip out.

“Hey, Ortho, what's their magic reading, you look concerned.” Deuce asks as Ortho looks at the screens he’s projecting with a calculating expression. “I think there is an error in my system, I have scanned them 5 times and it says they have no traces of magic at all, but there is also no trace of any dampening magic used to hide or change that reading. Furthermore, the technique they used is no longer in use, records show it dates back more than the era of gods! That version of the spell they casted cannot be duplicated at all!” Ortho says in amazement before turning to you.

“Just… what are you?”

You blink as they all stare at you expectedly. “I'm a human.”

****

It was time for class, you said that you were gonna use the bathroom first, so the others should go without you for now, you’ll see them with Crewel. You didn’t think that anything eventful would come from it. You were wrong. This is NRC.

Coming out of the bathroom, a few Savanahclaw chuds cornered you. “Can I help you?” You asked exasperatedly to the NRC equivalents of Beavis and Butthead. “Tch, you know why we're here!” “…No, I don't.” You blink rubbing your eye, which just pissed off the duo even more.

“You made a fool out of our dorm during the spell drive competition!” “Oh god, is that what this about, dude that was nearly a year ago.” “Yeah and we came back to settle the score.” You just raised a brow and a small smile crept to your face.

‘Oh! Oh! Can I bite now? Please please please can I bite now! Come onnnn I’ve been such a good eel!’ Flotsam pleads and you hear the familiars speak. ‘Me want bite!!’ Ed whines. Raven caws, ‘Yeah me too!’ Iago agrees. ‘We wanna join too!’ The imps laugh. ‘I will… stay here…’ Diaval sighs.

You blink. “Sick em.” You say, making the two idiots make a face at you. Flotsam immediately lunges for the ass. “AIIIIEEE!” One yells and you hold back a snort as the others join, Iago and Raven both grabbing onto the members hair and pecking at them. Jetsam basically lassos around one, making him trip so the hyena trio can rough him up. The imps both transform into a blue and red cat respectively and continue to add to the looney tunes violence of it all.

The two run off and the familiars return to you, except for the eels that slither miserably in place on the smooth, frictionless floor. “Help us up.” Jetsam scoffs. “No I think I’ll stay like this a bit longer.” 'Angelfish…' Ursula warns. "... yes mom…"

…

On your way to class you run into Crowley who attempts to stop you and unload another issue for you to deal with. Instead you say what your familiars wanted to say. “You are gay.” You say, making the man just stare at you as you walk off. “And Crewel also has weirdly complicated feelings for you.”

“FEELINGS YOU SAY?? WHICH ONES?? WHICH SORT OF FEELINGS YUU?? YUU!!!” You speed walk off regretting that decision, but you admit it will be funny to see those two get divorced. Crewel deserves better.

****

Animal Linguistics was always a bit of an annoying class, and this time, Trein has invited a few of the more advanced students to the class to help you freshmen. Ace let out a deep sigh when he saw Ruggie, knowing this guy will only do the bare minimum for his grade and charge any lesson extra.

“So when the cat goes ‘mrrrp?’ You're good, usually you should try to respond with a ‘mah Ah’” Ruggie explains to your group. “Do we always have to talk to cats and mice? I feel like we should also practice some other creatures too…” You sigh.

Trein overhears you and responds. “Your birds don’t count, Yuu. They are able to speak.” You sigh. “Okay…” You sigh and Ruggie gives you that stupid shit-eating grin. “Aw, you not satisfied with my lesson?” “No.” You glare, which surprises Ruggie, unused to your assertiveness. “I can speak to animals already and I’ve been teaching these boneheads, we're fine here.”

“Yeah but you say things that don't make sense…” Grim complains. “It doesn’t make sense because you guys are not used to the accents animals have. You know what, hold on, I‘ll get some real good ones to practice on.” “Huh what are you—?” Ruggie gawks when he sees three whole hyenas appear out of nowhere along with two eels around your waist.

“They are not allowed to speak in their human voices. Knock 'em out, guys.” “Yuu! Where did you even…” Trein sighs. “Fine, fine, they can stay as long as they are well behaved…” The hyenas cackle and the eels snicker. Deuce nervously looks into the crossed eyes of Ed who winks in response.

Ace seals his lips to hold back a laugh until Banzai leans where he stares nervously. “Seduce me bro.” “AYO???”

****

Soon history class came, and once again a special guest was brought in, Lilia. The lesson went fine. Your sass wasn't needed. You kept quiet as you took a few notes here and there, and the end bell soon rang out. You stared at a particular note you took.

‘The Thorn Fairy’s wings were leathery and bat-like, much like a dragon.’

You looked down at the note, and Maleficent herself seems to hum. ‘Seems like he is still following orders years later.’ She says and doesn’t elaborate. As students begin to pack up and leave, you wave down Lilia, who puts a hand on his hip and waits for you.

“Oho? What is it, prefect?” Lilia beams as you look at the note you took in your open notebook. “I have a question about what you said about the Thorn Fairy.” Lilia nods, “Well yes, what is it? It always warms my heart to see youngsters value history.”

You look at the note again. “You said that her wings were leathery and bat-like.” Lilia nods his head. “But aren't they feathered?” Lilia’s smile drops. “In fact she lost her wings too but got them back at some point, right? Did they become leathery during those years they were gone? Is that what you mean?”

Lilia looks at you, a bit of shock in his eyes, before he quietly speaks to you. “How do you know that?” “Know what?” “The Thorn Fairy only disclosed that information to two people, her raven, Diaval, and me…” You freeze for a moment and then Diaval appears on your shoulder to caw at him.

Lilia stares at you, then at the raven, then back to you. “Diaval, is that you…? Why are you with… wait does that mean—" Lilia was cut off. “Yo, Yuu!” Deuce calls out from the doorway. “You coming?” You clear your throat and nod. “Yeah, I’m coming!” You look over at Lilia, “Thank you for your time.” He could only stare as you walked off and Diaval cawed an apology

***

Towards the end of the day, you and your first year friends were all going to hang out at Heartslabyul to study together, which you know was code for ‘get distracted halfway and hang out’. You walked down the main path to the mirror chamber when you felt a familiar presence nearby. You were being watched.

“Come out Rook, I know you're there.” You look over at one of the apple trees, and narrow your eyes when you see Rook pop out from behind it all theatric. “Très bien, Trickster! You found me, that is a feat not many can achieve!” The weirdo beams. You nodded. “Yeah, you don't need to stalk me by the way. I am happy to get to know you through talking…”

“Non non, Trickster, you say that however I believe you don’t truly speak your mind!” The French man smiles. “I notice that you are not true to yourself! Always holding back your strength and what you mean to say, when I caught wind you were going to be yourself for a day, I could not help but try to study you!” Okay wow, he has you read.

“You can learn so much more about a person through their actions, but alas, you are so good at concealing those too, mon dieu, you are quite the mystery that I hope to uncover, and the most challenging one to date!” Rook says in awe. “I enjoy a good hunt, and this one has been most enthralling!” “I’ve always been able to sense when you're there, its why I tend to slink off not long after.”

“Merde! Is that so?” Rook smirks, and you sweat, you fucked up. “Aha, I knew you knew of me! Oh how fun! I have never had such good prey before!” You narrow your eyes slightly as he continues. “Would you dare to tell me how you are able to detect me so easily? Ah– but of course, if you don't that makes things much more magnifique!”

“Um… I honestly actually don't know how I do, I just do?” Rook seems pleased, “How effortless! Tres bien! Beauté! I must hone my skills as a hunter more! Until next time, Yuu!” Rook begins to walk off before pausing and his smile drops for a moment.

“And even if it is not me, I do hope you can truly open up to somebody someday. Anyone would be lucky to have that level of trust with a Trickster such as yourself! Holding everything in does you no good! Au revior, little trickster, or perhaps I should call you le Chevalier Mystère?” Rook has that small sparkle in his eye.

“Switch it up now and then, keep it interesting.” You nod at Rook “À bientôt!” He says, and he seems to be muttering some weird French poem about strangers and beauty as you leave.

****

You were stopped yet again on your way to Heartslabyul as you passed the mystery shop. The door was open and you see Trey ponder how he’s going to carry the groceries he brought back to the dorm. “Hey Trey,” you walks in and wave, “you look conflicted, something up?”

“Ah prefect, I am actually,” Trey wears that smiley-wincing expression that Trey has when he’s in deep shit. “I'm sorry to bother you, but could you help me carry some of these bags back to my dorm? It may take a few trips but I promise a treat in return.” “You don’t need to Trey, I’ll help you even without one, you’ve been kind to me.”

Trey’s brows raise slightly and he adjusts his glasses, looking away awkwardly. “Ah, well, thank you, Prefect.” Trey rolls up his sleeves, revealing his forearms as he prepares to grab a bag. "Those bags of flour and sugar are quite heavy, so be careful— wuh?” Trey stared dumbstruck as you lifted 500 pounds worth of dry ingredient bags in one arm. “I- how are you— Is that not heavy?”

“It is, but I’m used to it.” “At least let me help—“ “No, no fine, lets go.” “O… kay…” Trey adjusts his glasses and you both walk off to Heartslabyul, making a lot of people turn their heads as you pass by.

Entering the dorm, you notice Deuce and Grim gawk at you. “Give me a minute, I’m helping Trey!” You shout as you walk everything to the kitchen and set it down on the counter. “There.” Trey stares at the pile you put down, mentally going through all the times before you acted so weak. “Ahem, thank you prefect, Ace told me you would be over in the rose garden to ‘study’ right?” “They never study.” Trey gives that 'Trey sad smile' from earlier. “You got that right.”

****

Exiting the kitchen, you look into one of the mirrors hanging on the walls of the dorm, adjusting your appearance when yet another annoying voice interrupts you. “O-M-G! It's Yuu-Chan!” Cater shouts with his typical manufactured smile. “Heyyyy!” He waves and you feel your brain melting in your skull. “Hey Cater, what's up?”

“I have a questionnn!~” He smiles, pulling up something on his phone. “Are these you?” You sweat and look over to the images he pulled up. There was one of you in flames in the cafeteria, and another of you in the hallway wheezing at the pack of familiars all jumping the two chuds. “Yeah… yeah you caught me…”

“They’re trending locally right now and you know I just have to get in on that! Mind if we take a pic?” “Go ahead.” You sigh and Cater immediately snaps a selfie of him and your exhausted self. “Me and the bestie! #NRCProblemChild #NRCConspiracy #IsekaiProtag #ExtraTerrestrialPrefectConspiracy! Aaannnd post! Thank you, Yuu-Chan, I’m curious though what was that about?”

“Those two assholes were trying to beat me up and don’t worry about the other one.” “Don't worry?” Cater scoffs as you adjust yourself in the mirror again. “Helllooo the magicless prefect, turned slightly magical, turned to god-like mage suddenly does that within a year! That's gotta be something!” Cater beams and then looks over at you and sweats.

You were glaring at him, but the mirror in front of you had several eyes also glaring at him. “… Who’s that?” “Who’s what?” “That!” Cater points to the mirror and when you turn to look it disappears. “That's me, Cater, I know I look a bit different since first arriving, but I don't think I look half bad.” You gave an insincere smile.

“My friends are waiting for me Cate, seeya..."

****

You left the hangout early, not liking all the questions probing into your mind or your past at all, in fact you left pretty upset with some insinuations and accusations of your insincerity. “Are we even friends, Yuu?” Deuce frowned. “Have you been lying to us?” Jack glares. You sigh, and walk randomly, no destination in mind.

“Why aren't you opening up to us?” Ace huffs. “I mean you trust us right?” Ace’s frown turned to offense when he saw you look away. “Dude come on! When have we given you a reason to not trust us?” You snap at him. “Our very first meeting was you insulting me and since then you have been roping me into trouble!”

Ace looked guilty there. “Yuu…” Epel frowned and Ortho shot a glare at Ace. “Human, Ace may have had a rough meeting but what about us?” “What about you? What about you?” You dragged your hands across your face.

“There's a lot about you guys actually! From Mr. Don’t-Be-Friendly-Cause-We’ll-Never-be-Friends over here to Mr.Internalized-Racism-Against-My-Kind here! And let’s not forget I-Cause-Half-Of-Your-Problems-And-Sometimes-Leave-You-WIthout-Food-For-A-Few-Days Grim! Yeah I have no clue! It's almost like I tried opening up to you all before but I was brushed off. It's almost like I have been telling you that I have been having these prophetic dreams since arriving and have been telling you about a man living in my mirror and calling out to me constantly! And everytime— every fucking time its nothing or no big deal!”

You wipe away tears. “I have been trying to talk, but nobody's listening. It’s like I’m made to understand and not be understood! I have been having to put everyone else before myself and solve everyone’s else’s problems without a thank you or someone to lean on since day one! I mean, all these blots have given me fucking scars. Physical fucking scars! All while I was being berated for being a weak little human too! And what? I still am expected to bend over backwards for the people that tried to kill me? Everything’s swept under the rug for everyone else but me, huh? No one ever checks on me, hell, I am not even acknowledged half the time when I’m in the same room as someone, so yeah I also wonder why I don't talk.”

You push yourself up and grab your things. “Wait!” “No, no! Leave me alone, for once will you leave me alone willingly!” “Yuu come on! We’ll listen.” You pause. “Yuu isn’t even my name.” You glare. “It isn't…?” Grim asks. “I have been called ‘You’ this entire time here because no one bothered asking my name and everyone assumed it was ‘Yuu’. I don't even get to introduce myself anyways when I do get asked. I am not my own person, and you never made me feel like my own person.”

You walked off. Looking back now you regret it. You’re embarrassed, you sounded so stupid. You wipe away a few tears and feel a presence appear, Cerberus. The three heads nudge and cuddle you as you sob and you can feel the sevens hands all trying to soothe you. ‘There, there’ one says. Let it out.’ Another responds. ‘Poor thing.’

“Come on, boy, it's been a while since you’ve been on a walk…” You mutter, and think back to what Rook said to you earlier. Opening up to someone was a Herculean task on its own, but someone understanding you was impossible. Even telling people the truth can get you or them in trouble…

You lead the way down to the Ignihyde dorm. No one in that dorm leaves their room anyways, it's safe for your good boy to walk around there.

***

There was in fact a certain dorm leader there, who was just as shocked to see you and a giant dog. Idia punched in the number to a snack at the vending machine, turned around and gawked at the giant dog behind him. He then looked over at you.

“Yuu? Is that-? I mean is he—? Ortho said you—… Is that the real…?” Idia sputtered, not sure what to ask first. “Shut it weeb, no ones gonna believe you.” Idia gawked even more. Since when were you so sassy? No seriously, you were also so overly kind to everyone it unsettled him.

“…Sorry…” you mumble. “You can pet him… he’s… soft…” Idia blinks and offers out a hand. One of the heads sniffs it before nuzzling into him. “Holy shit…” Idia whispers as he immediately starts fawning over the dog.

“Who’s some good boys, who’s some boys? Oh that's a great pupper! Oh yes you all are!” It’s strange to see Idia all smiley to himself, but it’s pleasant. “How did you—“ “I can't answer that.” You respond. “So dont ask…”

Idia goes quiet leaning back from the heads that licked him, his flaming locks dancing behind him. “Ortho said you haven’t been feeling well…” “I haven’t been, not for a while, I guess it finally all came out to the point where it’s noticeable…” “Ah, I feel that…” Idia trails off awkwardly.

“I know we're not friends, but I appreciate you.” Idia mumbles. “You make Ortho very happy, and I love seeing my little brother happy… He says you're like another sibling and insists we would get along. He really wants me to get to know you… and uh.. We don't have to, but… yeah… Thank you, I guess…’ Idia looks like he’s about to die, but he speaks again.

“Ortho says you make him feel human, and that you’ve been helping him learn more about how to find out who he is more than anyone else, more than me, even, probably cause you got out more… He told me you were upset, and he’s worried about you. So uh… please reach out to him?”

“Thank you, Idia…” You sigh. “Yeah I will, I will reach out to him, its not his fault, I just… I just need time to think… I don't even know who I am, or what comforts me…” “Um, I don't know what you like… but uh… actually, give me your number. I know a pretty cool site with a lot of free shows, I think there’s a few you’ll like.” He offers an attempt at a smile. “And also maybe you try a few video games? If you haven’t tried them already… who knows maybe we can play together…” You smile and open up your contacts. “Yeah, I would like that actually…”

A new contact was added: ‘Gremlin.’

****

Walking off to your dorm, you dare not go in. You don't know if your friends are all waiting for you inside, or if Grims there. You sorta don't want to deal with that right now still. The corners of your eyes catch a familiar sight. Fireflies dance through the night, coming out of the grass and surrounding you.

“Hey, Tsunotaro… Heh, maybe I ought to call you ‘Firefly’ or king of the fireflies, maybe.” You wipe your eyes as you turn around and there he is, your Tsunotaro. You both don't know each other's names, but you don't need to. Tsunotaro and Child of Man work just fine.

“Greetings, Child of Man, it’s always good to see you but…” The fae frowns, “are you alright, Child of Man? You seem troubled…” “I… Yeah I am… I just… don’t know what to do…”

Your friend carefully reaches out to you before retracting his hand. “Do you want to talk about it?” “I think I need a distraction…” “I can do that,” Tsunotaro offers his hand. “Come with me.

You have never seen so many pretty colors before as Malleus casts a few spells, making the forest into the most beautiful light show you’ve ever seen. Mushrooms glow from where they sprout, leaves swirl with beautiful patterns, and the fireflies dance through the sky against the stars. You swear you can hear music from them.

“This is… This is beautiful…” “I am glad you enjoy it,” Malleus watches as you watch each step you take, the leaves below you glowing with each step. “Are you feeling better now?” “Yeah, I am… You know…” you pause nervously.

“Yes? What is it?” “It feels like… you're my only true friend…” The lightshow around you flickers for a moment. “Is that so…” Malleus stares wide eyed. “Yeah… Just… I can be kind to everyone… but I can't be friends with anyone. They all don't really get to know the real me, you know?” Malleus stares off.

“I do know that feeling well… You are my only friend…” You pause and look at him. The lights behind you turn to a more pinkish hue. “That's hard to believe, you are a wonderful person.” “Likewise, Child of Man. I would think someone as kind as you would have much more.”

You sniff, “I’ve been helping so many people, but it feels like…” You sigh. “I have seen the hard work you have put into everything. Not a lot of people can say they have gone through what you have gone through and won. You are much stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

Malleus takes your hand. “I am sorry that others do not acknowledge that. I hope those around you soon start to realize what a blessing you are.” You squeeze his hand. “Come on, why don’t we both enjoy this light show?”

…

At the very last waltz, your legs feel like jelly, and you cannot tell if it's because of how happy you are or because you've been standing too long. You pull away gently. “Thank you Tsunotaro, for everything.” Malleus nods. “It was nothing. Thank you for being my friend.” He stares off to the sky for a moment. “Farewell, Child of Man, may the night be full of promise for you.”

The fae starts to fade away and you reach out, using a spell of your own. “Wait…” You hold onto Malleus’ arm making him appear again. The fae looks at you with shock. “You overrode my magic…” Malleus whispers, and his shocked face turns to one of awe and his eyes hint towards excitement. “No one has ever been able to do that… Just what else are you hiding, Child of Man?”

“I want to give you my name.” “Your name?” Malleus looks shocked once again. “My real name.” “Don't you know of the stories about giving your name to Fae?” “I know them, but I trust you. I know you would never hurt me.” Your expression and voice is so sure it nearly overwhelms the fae.

“You trust me that much? I could smite you with lightning in an instant.” “Then smite me.” Malleus paused and nothing happened. “See? I know you wouldn’t hurt me. You’ve had opportunities this entire time and you haven’t.” “You really want to tell me Child of Man? When I have not even given you my name?” Malleus' voice nearly shakes.

“You don't need to. But if you do, no matter what name comes out, I won't be afraid.” You take his hand, and for the first time since arriving, you introduce yourself, and you tell him your name, your real name.

“I see, what a wonderful name… I supposed I shall finally tell you mine as well.” The fae smiles, “Draconia. Malleus Draconia…” “Malleus? That's not too bad for yourself…” Malleus lets out a laugh at that. “I suppose not.” He smiles then looks off again. “Well then, friend… Thank you for everything tonight. I have not been this happy in a long time…”

“Good night, Malleus. I hope to see you again soon.”

“Good night, Child of Man…”

He fades out and you hear Maleficent speak to you. ‘He likes you.’ She says, and you hear a few voices teasing you. You chuckle and find the strength in you to go back into your dorm and confront tomorrow. Rook’s words from earlier echoes through your mind. You have found people you can truly open up to.

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slasherscream · 6 months

Text

Wash Day

pairing: jordan li x fem black!reader

"You wanna go out to dinner tonight? Know I've been busy this week. Feel like I've barely seen you." Jordan mutters against the shell of your ear. You shiver as he gives the skin a teasing kiss.

Already you're pouting, knowing what your answer has to be even though you wish so desperately that you could give a different response. "Wish I could, Jordan. But my night is already spoken for."

You're spun around by a hand on your hip, playful and fast so that you can't stop yourself from falling into his chest. Your hands grip his jacket for balance, and he reaches up to hold one of them with his own. "You got plans? With who? Cate? Cancel them."

"Brat." You laugh.

How demanding Jordan is would be less cute if they ever asked you to do something they themselves wouldn't. As it stands, with the way they do anything you ask at the drop of a hat, all you can do is roll your eyes and pretend to be exasperated instead of smitten.

"Fine, don't cancel. I'll just come with." Jordan sighs, as if seeing his best friend is a great tragedy (Which it is. Cate being there means you'll smack Jordan's hand away when he tries to sneak it up your skirt at dinner.)

"What if we want a girls' night?" You shoot back, grinning.

Jordan shifts. The hands on your waist are smaller now, but pull you in closer, "You're the one who's feeling bratty. Really have been neglecting you this week, huh baby?" Jordan smirks, in that condescending way she does when she realizes you're trying to get a certain reaction out of her.

"The plans aren't with Cate, and they aren't cancellable." You sigh, deciding not to rise to the bait of her tone, smirk, or the little circles she's rubbing into your skin.

"What are these oh so important plans?" Jordan asks.

"Do you know how many white boys have complimented my hair today, Jordan?" You ask.

"Pardon?" Jordan blinks at what seems to be a completely unrelated topic.

"Six! Six white boys complimented my braids today. I'm about to kill myself, if we're being honest. I must looked fucked up, and you didn't even say anything." You pout.

You've been having a bit of a rough day, to say the least.

"You look beautiful. What are you talking about?" Jordan asks, confused but nonetheless, wanting to make you feel better. "If you didn't look good I'd very politely... have Cate tell you. But you look great! You've been getting compliments all day, you just said it yourself!"

"Wow, you'd throw Cate under the bus, huh coward?"

"Cate isn't interested in making out with you every spare second of the day. I am. You can be mad at her. I've got stuff I wanna do." Jordan's grin is downright salacious. You smack her arm, trying not to smile.

"Ah. You are operating under the same delusions of the white man. I see that now, I'll let go of the anger." You say, sighing and kissing Jordan on the cheek.

"First of all, don't you ever fucking insult me like that again.... Second of all, what particular delusion am I sharing with the white man?" Jordan asks.

"White men only compliment a black woman's hairstyle at two points in time. When it's brand spanking, fresh off the lot new. Or when it's started to look like shit. I've had these braids in for longer than... is your business. So guess which compliment I'm getting right now?"

"I fucking refuse to say your hair looks like shit, and this conversation feels like a trap. You're always beautiful to me." Jordan says.

"Thank you, baby. But we live on a campus where the diversity win photographers lurk around every corner trying to get pictures of 'The Diversity Win Couple' in our most natural state. I need to take out my braids tonight before I talk crazy in the group chat, and Andre sends me a 'this you?' pic that will devastate my argument." You shake your head somberly, already imagining the fate that lies before you.

"You could stop talking crazy in the group chat." Jordan teases.

"You know damn well I'm not capable of that."

The two of you burst into laughter, unable to keep it together. Jordan has always been obsessed with how easy it is for you to make them laugh.

"Is that gonna take up your whole night, though, baby? We don't have to go to dinner early! We'll go wherever you want." Jordan insists, tone bordering on begging.

Whenever they come out of a particularly busy week, they spend the next two weeks glued to you. As if to make up for it. The clinginess is a stark difference from how they acted before you made things official.

"Jordan, look at the braids on my head."

"I'm looking at them."

"Are you seeing them with your eyes?"

"Yes, and my eyes are sending the image to my brain, which I assure you is working. What's your point here, baby?"

"How long do you think it will take me to undo these, detangle my hair, wash it, deep condition it, and then wash it again?"

Jordan squints at you for a long moment, analyzing your hairstyle and the utter displeasure on your face. "I dunno? Maybe... four hours?"

"I should fucking murder you. Just for that, you're helping me with wash day now."

Jordan's face breaks into a grin like sunlight breaking through clouds, "So I do get to spend the day with you, is what you're saying?"

"Yeah, baby, you get to spend the day with me." You click your tongue at them. Pitying them for the ache in their fingers they're about to feel. They complain about curling their God damn hair a couple of times a week. You suspect you'll be ready to kill one another by hour two.

But you also missed them a lot. Or whatever.

"Don't cut too high up, Jordie. " You whine, shifting his grip lower on your braid, to an acceptable cutting length of the hair extension.

"Baby... can I ask you a very serious question right now?" Jordan hums, obediently cutting where you instructed.

"What?" You ask, already starting to unbraid the piece.

"How... long... do you think your hair is?" Jordan, to be fair to him, does ask the question quietly and with the proper amount of hesitation.

"How dare you! Are you calling me bald?" You gasp, stifling a laugh.

"Don't do this to me. You are prolonging the process. We can cut these braids at least four inches higher than what we're doing right now." Jordan says, you can't see his face but you can tell he's also trying not to laugh. Bastard.

"My hair grew!"

"From the top of your head. It did not magically lower itself further into the fucking braid extension." Jordan loses the battle and laughs.

"Jordan Li do not fucking cut off any of my hair or I'll cry and then blow up this school."

"Of course, princess." Jordan kisses the top of your head and gives in to your terrorist demands because you're cute.

"So how am I supposed to do it, baby?" Jordan claps her hands and you smile at how eager she sounds to help.

"You're gonna want to section it off. Do like... eight parts of hair. That'll make literally every step after this easier. Then you're gonna comb the hair from the bottom, 'kay?"

"Got it."

Jordan starts the process of parting your hair, careful and slow. Fingers sectioning off eight chunks of hair that she keeps apart with the silky hair ties you hand her over your shoulder.

"You sure you don't want me to comb it, Jordie?" You ask Jordan.

"I'll be gentle, don't worry. You always say your shoulders hurt at the end of wash day. Which is crazy, because I've seen what you can bench. I've got you, baby." She spritzes extra detangler spray on each of the parts she just made.

You move around slightly, a little sore already from sitting still between her legs for so long, but smiling to yourself nonetheless. A pillow is suddenly shoved into your face and you lean away, confused.

"Sit on this one instead. It'll be better." Jordan says.

You switch out the pillows and tilt your head back to look at her. "Why're you always right? Is that your kink?"

"No, my kink is bossing you around." Jordan smirks and leans down to give you a kiss. Despite the awkward angle you can't help trying to deepen the contact. The feeling of her soft lips sliding against yours, firm but gentle, is always irresistible.

She hums and gives you a playful nip before pulling away. "Don't start something we can't finish."

"Who says we can't?" You shoot back, staring up at her.

"You will be pissed an hour from now if you glance at your phone and we haven't made any progress." Jordan runs her thumb along your bottom lip before pushing your head forward.

"Who says it will take an hour?"

"I do. If we start, I'm not stopping." Jordan's voice dips seductively and a line of tension runs up the length of your spine.

You smack her thigh for teasing you, "Shut up."

"Is this comfortable?" Jordan frowns, staring at the angle your head has to be at to fit in the bowl of the sink.

"No, but this is the best angle this chair can get me to." You say. Usually you just wash in the shower, but since Jordan is helping the sink makes more sense.

Jordan stands, scowling at how uncomfortable you seem. Suddenly he grins, "Baby! Make a chair with your shields. Something that leans."

You were getting a lot better with being able to make complex shapes, with less concentration. You stand up from the chair you'd dragged from the common room. Jordan pulls it out of the way and gives you an encouraging thumbs up.

It takes you a minute, but you conjure a shield that resembles a salon chair and the both of you let out identical cries of delight.

Jordan pushes you to sit down with a kiss on your forehead. "That's my fucking girl. Tell me if the temperature is too hot."

Jordan washes your hair with the perfect amount of pressure and thoroughness. He's nearly rhythmic in his methodical cleaning. You didn't realize your eyes had fluttered closed until you hear him laugh. You open one eye to glare at him playfully, knowing he won't get soap in them.

"What's so funny?"

"You're like a cat. You gonna purr for me, baby?" He smirks.

"If you keep going like that, yeah. Or I'll fall asleep. Please don't make me fall asleep. I'll fall on my ass." You say.

"I'll endeavor to make the rest of the wash as unpleasant as possible."

He does not do that. And at one point you do fall asleep. Jordan catches you before you can actually fall. 'Thank God for Supe reflexes', you both think. You spend the rest of the wash with your eyes wide open and Jordan laughing at you.

"Did we put too much?" Jordan asks, dabbing at another drip of oil and conditioner down your brow.

"No, this is typical. The hair has to be saturated. It's dripping because the oil is you know... getting hot and even more liquid-y." You say, eyeing the episode of Property Brother's you'd both decided on. "Hm. I think that woman should be put to death."

Jordan was keeping vigilant about dabbing at the sides of your face. You'd been in charge of one side, at first. But Jordan seemed to have a sixth sense for when the other side was dripping as well, and kept interrupting you before you could get to any trickles of oil. You'd given up and just started narrating the show for her as she wasn't taking her eyes off the line of your brow.

"Why? What did she do?" Jordan dabs again.

"She wants to put up a fence that blocks the view of the historical house that she did not have to buy if she wanted a fence so bad." You roll your eyes.

"Is the city gonna let her?"

"No."

"Haha. 500k down the drain." Jordan cackles.

"Anti-gentrification win!" You hold out your fist for a fist-bump and Jordan obediently obliges, oil soaked rag still held in her fist.

A comfortable silence falls over you two, besides the noise of the portable hair dryer.

"I really think we put too much, baby." Jordan mutters, dabbing again.

"I have been doing this since I was twelve, Jordan!"

"Play the video again, one speed slower this time." Jordan's eyes are glued to your phone.

You're sitting between his legs again, cushioned by the (superior) pillow of his choosing. You were trying to decide on a simple hair style when Jordan saw a picture of Mini Twists and got excited to see you in them.

("You've already seen me in mini twists, Jordie. What are you talking about?"

"You weren't my girlfriend the last time you wore them though! Now you are, and I get to look at you as much as I want."

So that had decided that.)

"Okay, I think I got it. 'M gonna start with a braid base, without making the parts too big, then start twisting the hair with two strands, and that will make it last longer, right?"

"Right." You smile at how focused Jordan sounds.

They're hot when they're in the zone. You just didn't think they'd get so into helping you with your hair. But you should have known, really. Acts of service paired with their inner perfectionist? You're completely relaxed at this point. You know Jordan won't have you walking out of your room looking crazy, come hell or high water.

"Is this okay?" Jordan shows you a picture of the back of your head, three rows of twists done.

You gasp, snatching the phone, "That's my head?"

"Uh... yes?" Jordan answers slowly.

"The back of my head? The head on my body?"

"Should I start over?"

"Fuck you! These are almost better than mine. Who's hair are you playing around in when I'm not here, Jordan LI?"

"Stop using my fucking government name." Jordan tilts your head back to look at him with a gentle grip on your neck, grinning down at you. "You play too fucking much. You sure they're good, princess? It's okay if I need to redo them."

"I'm gonna give you orgasms that will make you lose brain cells."

"Baby!" Jordan laughs, rolling his eyes. "I'm serious. Do any of them need redoing?"

"The first row is really fucking good for a beginner but the second row is damn near perfect." You say.

"I'll redo the first row then." Jordan kisses your temple before moving you to face forward again.

"I said they were good!" You protest.

"But the second row is better. I want the whole thing to look good. Don't want you feeling self conscious cause I fucked up the style, y'know." Jordan mumbles.

You tilt your head back to look at him, ignoring him sucking his teeth (a habit he picked up from you) at you moving.

"I love you, Jordie. Thank you for helping me today." You coo.

You watch his face go red with a grin. He grins back, leaning down to give you a gentle kiss. When he tries to pull away too soon you whine, holding him close by the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Wanna kiss you. You're sweet." You breathe the words against his lips, insistently continuing the caress.

He sighs, smitten, and let's you lead for a moment. Hand finding it's way back to your neck and tightening just enough to make you gasp. Still, he pulls away too quickly.

"I'm gonna fuck you up." You scowl at him.

"The only thing you're gonna fuck up is your neck, brat. This is a horrible angle for you." Jordan's smile is so soft at the edges it's your turn to blush.

"Speak for yourself."

"No, I'm too busy speaking on behalf of your neck."

"Well, I'm speaking on behalf of my-"

"Pussy?"

"I was going to say raging hormones but that's a lot more to the point, yeah. Or maybe I was going to say something romantic. You ever think of that, Jordie? Huh?"

"Were you going to say something romantic?" Jordan hums.

"No."

"Let me do your hair in peace." Jordan turns you forward again with a laugh.

"Turn this way." Jordan instructs, snapping another picture.

"I don't know whether you're worse than an Instagram hair stylist or a Mom." You ponder, words barely audible because your girlfriend is scary.

"Shut up and smile." Jordan scowls.

As if engraved into your genetic code the words make you do just that. You suffer through another 20 pictures being taken before you say enough is enough.

Jordan happily shows you the pictures, as if you hadn't seen yourself in the mirror just a minute ago. Or ever. The grin on her face so wide it looks like it hurts.

"You like it, baby?" Jordan asks again.

"It looks so good, Jordie. It looks like I paid someone honestly."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." You drape your arms around her shoulders. "How's this angle?"

"For what?" Jordan tilts her head to the side, puzzled.

"For kissing. Since you were so worried about the angle before."

Jordan scoffs, but she's the one to pull you in. She doesn't pull away this time.

A/N: i needed reader to have a goofball vibe because i have a goofball vibe. if you enjoyed this fic consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anonymous ask saying you enjoyed it! a writers fuel is engagement. xoxoxo

#jordan li x reader #jordan li imagine #jordan li #black!reader #black reader #IVE WORKED ON THIS ONE TOO LONG FUCK IT WE BALL #last few jordan li readers i've written have not had a reader who is a goofball #and if someone acted like this around me (hot brooding and scowling)#i suffer from jester syndrome. i would need to make them laugh

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