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avatar-anna · 4 months

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Moments caught between Harry and Y/n on camera at the Brits

just something fun because harry at the brits was a mess but we love him for it!

Young Dad! Harry Styles x Young Mom! Reader Masterlist

The red carpet is loud and raucous, bright lights flashing as people shout for the attention of celebrities. One couple in particular is the center of attention the second they step on the carpet.

Harry Styles and a woman walk arm-in-arm, a broad grin on his face and a shy smile on hers. Harry seems to be whispering something in the woman's ear, his nose pressed against the crown of her head. It makes her visibly relax, her grin widening and becoming more authentic as they take a couple more steps.

The woman is the recently revealed Y/n Styles, Harry Styles' long-time partner that he'd somehow kept from the rest of the world for over a decade. But she was here tonight, just as she had been at the Grammys a couple weeks ago, and the cameras now track their every move, intrigued by this new-ish couple.

"Harry! Harry! Harry, over here!"

"Y/n!"

"Harry, did you really marry Y/n when you were in One Direction?"

"Y/n, how does it feel to be with the most famous man in music?"

Y/n, who's hard to miss in a red dress that fits like a glove, shrinks almost imperceptibly against Harry's side. Harry looks down at her, and the husband and wife share a look as if they're having an unspoken conversation.

Then he mutters something to her, and Y/n laughs as Harry kisses her cheek, but not before nudging his nose against it. The shouts double, so used to Harry's stoic approach to being out in the public eye, but both of them move steadily down the carpet, not paying the paparazzi and reporters any mind.

*.*

During their walk down the red carpet, Harry and Y/n come across a barricaded section for fans of the artists in attendance. They all cheer as each celebrity walks by, shouting compliments and proclamations of love for their favorite.

Y/n once again hesitates on Harry's arm, wary eyes darting toward the boisterous fans. At the same time, Harry is called to by a reporter asking for an interview. Checking in with his wife, he departs with a kiss to her forehead, murmuring words the cameras can't quite pick up.

Y/n stands on her own, one arm crossed over her stomach as she tries to stay standing tall. Fans call out to her from the barricade in a way that's difficult to ignore. She waves at them with a small smile, but it's clear they want her to come closer.

With one glance at her husband, who's still speaking with the reporter, and another to a security guard close by, she nods to the latter and they step closer to the barricade, just close enough in proximity that she can actually make out distinct voices and words.

"Y/n we love you!"

"Where did you meet Harry?"

"How long have you been together?"

"Ugh, you are so mother in that dress!"

"What's your skincare routine?"

"What's Harry's?"

The tense set of her shoulders eases a bit, no longer apprehensive of the fans and their potential to be cruel.

"I feel like I met him a lifetime ago," she says. "And I just cleanse, moisturize, and use SPF."

"How come we've never seen you at shows?"

"What's your favorite Harry song?"

"Are you friends with One Direction?"

"Where were you last year when Harry got wasted?"

Y/n chuckles at the last question, her eyes lighting up as her hand covers her mouth. "I've always had a soft spot for 'Ever Since New York.'"

"Taste!" a fan yells, decibels louder above the rest, which garners laughter from everyone.

"Can you make Harry release 'Medicine?'" another asks.

Before Y/n answers, Harry appears by her side, an arm snaking around her waist. "There you are. Got sidetracked by your own interview, did you?"

"They were just asking if I'd help them in their quest for a studio version of 'Medicine.' I'm not sure if I can, though. They don't know how stubborn you are."

A chorus of boos went up at Y/n's answer, but not at her. Harry raised his eyebrows at his wife as if in challenge, but her responding gaze is quite mischievous.

Taking everyone, including Y/n, by surprise, he leans in to kiss her cheek, saying, "Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight, darling?"

A chorus of aww's ring through the small crowd of fans as Harry places his hand on Y/n's lower back, ushering her away from the barricade. Y/n raises an eyebrow at her husband, who is conveniently not meeting her eye. "Nice save."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You never call me darling."

Harry lets out a snort. "Lies. Lies on the red carpet tonight."

Y/n rolls her eyes but leans in close to her husband, carefully avoiding the fabric flower around his neck. "Mhmm. Let's go, darling."

*.*

An artist is being interviewed inside the O2, and Harry and Y/n are videotaped in the background.

In the very corner, the couple are leaning in close and talking, a drink in each one of their hands. Harry talks animatedly, gesturing with his drink to the point where it nearly spills on Y/n's dress. Y/n doesn't seem to mind and just throws back her head as she laughs. His eyes light up as he watches her, a word that could only be described as love encompassing his face.

*.*

During one of the performances, a camera pans to Harry's table. The house lights are dim, but he's still visible amongst the flashes of color from the stage. Harry sits in his chair, body slumped a little low so he can rest his head on Y/n's shoulder.

Both of their attention is on the performer onstage, not noticing as a few cameras are pointed in their direction as Y/n scratches the back of Harry's neck absentmindedly. He leans into her touch, looking up occasionally to say something to his wife.

*.*

"And the winner is...Harry Styles!"

Cheers erupted throughout the room, the table Harry is at standing up. Harry himself stays seated and curls in on himself, pumping his arms victoriously as he beams. His eyes are a little glassy, his hair unkempt, a sign that the night has progressed with lots of alcohol consumption.

He turns to his sister Gemma first as he stands up, high-fiving her before giving her a hug and fist-bumping someone else. Then he turns to Y/n, who hasn't stopped clapping since his name had been read for the third time from the envelope.

She opens her arms as if to accept a hug, but Harry has other plans. He leans forward and kisses her in a way that's merely pressing his smile against hers until they mold their mouths into a kiss. Then he kisses her cheek repeatedly, making her shoulders bunch as she smiles brightly.

When Harry finally pulls away, Y/n's cheeks are flushed as she tries to wipe at her husband's face with her thumb. With one last kiss, he heads up to the stage to accept his award.

*.*

Another performance, only this time, everyone is on their feet, including Harry and Y/n.

Harry's arms are wrapped around Y/n's shoulders from behind, his chin on her shoulder. Both of them sway from side to side to the rhythm of the song as Harry mouthed the words in Y/n's ear.

Her grin is wide as her eyes stay trained on the performance. Then, she looks back at Harry, who met her gaze as she says something.

Nodding, he kisses her once on the cheek before nodding back to the stage.

*.*

As Kid speaks into the microphone onstage saying his thank yous, Harry is having the time of his life behind his friend as he speaks to Stanley Tucci.

By now it's a little obvious he's had more than a couple drinks. His hair is nothing short of a mess, his dress shirt is a little more unbuttoned than it had been to begin with, and he throws his head back and laughs in a way that is fueled by drunken delight.

Briefly, the camera turns to Harry's wife, who stands beside Gemma. Y/n's hands hold her face as she watches her husband be ushered offstage by the people around him. She giggles a little before leaning over to Gemma and shaking her head. Gemma laughs along with her, covering her mouth as she says something to the woman beside her.

The camera flashes back to Harry, who turns around one last time so he can blow a kiss to the crowd, more specifically, Y/n, who the camera catches covering her face in her hands, cheeks as red as her dress.

*.*

Paparazzi shout at their latest persons of interest as they make the brief walk from the car to the entrance of a club where the after party for the Brits is being held.

Harry's arms are tightly wrapped around Y/n's waist, face set as he ignores the crowd of people shouting for his attention. Y/n, turned slightly inward towards Harry's chest, keeps pace beside him. Most of her body is covered by what can only be her husband's suit jacket, but with the open front, a hint of a sparkly pink dress can be seen, a drastic change from her award show attire.

The only time they separate is when Harry allows Y/n entrance into the club first before following close behind, his hand once again protectively hovering over the small of her back.

*.*

Photos are strictly forbidden inside of the club, so it isn't until the couple emerges from the doors once again that they're spotted.

Neither of them stumble, though paparazzi wouldn't have cared if they were. All eyes are on Harry's disheveled hair, the heels dangling from his fingers, the suit jacket draped over the arm not around his wife. They're on Y/n, whose dress is completely on display, the beading that covers its entirety flashing with every snap of the camera's shutter.

Then the collar of Harry's silk dress shirt shifted, revealing a harsh purple bruise that hadn't been there before. Neither Harry nor Y/n seem to notice, or understand why the cacophony of shouts became louder, they just continue on, Y/n's hand on the nape of her husband's neck idly scratching until he helps her into the car.

Following suit, Harry climbs inside. For a brief moment, Harry sticks his head out the open window of the car and winks and sticks his tongue out at all the photographers. Y/n appears from her side of the car, leaning across her husband to bring the window up. Not an ounce of care in the world, he leans forward to kiss his wife's exposed jaw. With an exasperated expression on her face and a delicate wave of her fingers, the window goes up, and though the windows are tinted, a hand is visible against the glass as the car peeled away from the curb.

#harry styles #young dad! harry #young mom! reader #young dadrry #young parent!harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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thekinslayed · 22 days

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Étoile

summary | Aemond Targaryen has found himself a new star.

pairing | ballet master!aemond targaryen x ballerina!reader

tags | 18+, MINORS DNI! unprotected sex, oral (m), semi-public, slight dubcon, mirror sex, power imbalance, coercion, aemond’s kinda manipulative, slight age difference (reader is in her early 20s, Aemond is in his mid-30s)

wordcount | 4.6k

note | ah finally, some use for a decade and a half worth of ballet training 🙂‍↕️ i may or may not have written this after watching challengers, so aemond is very mildly inspired by tashi.

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

(divider by @aqualogia)

The air in the studio was humid with sweat as dancers glided through the floor accompanied by the soft tunes of the piano. Your limbs ached with exertion, your toes cramped in your pointe shoes, yet you continued, turning and leaping with the others as you performed the routine. Your ballet master kept a close eye on everyone, throwing out corrections to every dancer while he stood tall. Everyone was putting in the extra effort, dancing as though they were performing in front of the largest audience. There was a clear tension in the air, brought about by the Paris Opera Ballet’s newest ballet master, Aemond Targaryen.

He was tough, highly critical, and was known to send dancers out the door in tears, but he was one of the best. It was known among your peers he was looking to cast dancers for his repertoire, hence the reason why everyone was on edge during his class.

You couldn’t help the way goosebumps rose on your skin wheneve his eye fell on you, silently willing yourself not to mess up in front of the silver-haired man. You paid extra attention to the finer details of your movements, your mind running an extra mile to keep yourself in check.

Shoulders down. Shift that weight forward. Deep plié. Eyes on your spot, and turn.

Aemond gave you an approving nod as you successfully landed your quadruple pirouette, two extra than what you normally do. You kept your face neutral and composed, despite the glee bursting through your chest. A nod was a high praise in the ballet world, even more so from the stoic Targaryen, and you mentally patted yourself on the back for not falling on your face. Perhaps he would consider you for a role, one where you wouldn’t be lost in the mass of tutus and other dancers in the background. You were a coryphée, second to last in the company's hierarchy, and you had been desperate to rise through the ranks and prove yourself to your superiors. With the arrival of the young ballet master, whose good eye kept shifting towards you as you continued to dance, you had a good feeling your golden opportunity would soon fall into your lap.

Two claps echoed through the studio, cutting through the soft music of the piano. You halted your movements, turning to your ballet master who had paused your rehearsal.

“Not quite, try that again,” he ordered. You and your dance partner, Tomás, returned to your previous position, moving through the choreography to Aemond’s direction as the piano started once more. You were both slick with sweat, breaths equally panting as you continued your rehearsal for Le Parc.

It was a classic piece of the Paris Opera Ballet, a crowd favorite, and you had been bestowed the honor of performing the piece after being cast by the Targaryen himself. It was safe to say the rehearsal wasn’t going well, after only having danced the first two minutes of the nine minute piece in the three hours you had been in the rehearsal studio. Both you and Tomás were under immense pressure, one that only grew with every dissatisfied look and a shake of the head from your ballet master. The danseur beside you was rumored to be up for a nomination to be the company’s next étoile– the star, top of the ballet food chain. One cannot simply climb the ranks through time and effort to be an étoile, they had to be chosen by one of the ballet masters, and what better chance would one have than getting chosen by the Aemond Targaryen himself? Hence the agitation Tomás emanated, its sticky heat rubbing off on you.

“Ah, come on,” your dance partner grunted, sighing when you had failed to grab his arms to be lifted from the air. The pianist stopped playing with another raise of a hand from Aemond, who stayed seated in his seat in front of the mirror. You mumbled an apology, anxiously looking to the silver-haired man who had stood up from his seat. He approached the pair of you, his stance intimidating as was his gaze when he regarded both of you.

“The preparation for the lift is all wrong, Tomás,” he reprimanded. Aemond gestured for the young danseur to step aside, taking his place. The ballet master gestured for you to repeat the movement, and obeyed. You took a step before jumping, turning mid-air before being caught into Aemond’s arms. His grip was tighter than Tomás, more sure. You felt safe while being lifted, your whole body pressed against his taut chest.

“You have to hold her tight. Keep her stable, yes?” Aemond emphasized. He continued to hold you flush to his chest with ease, showing Tomás the exact position he wanted you to to end in.

“How’d that feel?” The silver-haired man asked you, his hot breath fanning the side of your face. He carefully placed you back on your feet, keeping his hand on your waist until you were able to stand. Slightly flustered from thay singular touch, you timidly pushed back the loose strands of hair on your face to look at him.

“Uh, good! Pretty stable,” you squeaked. His touch left a warm imprint on your flesh, lingering even after Aemond walked back to his seat.

“Alright, now try it on your own,” the Targaryen urged. The music started back up, and you tried the lift again with Tomás. You earned a low ‘good’ from Aemond when you had done the lift a little more successfully with his guidance, though the difference in the men’s grip was evident.

You continued on with the rehearsal, flowing through the choreography with Tomás under Aemond’s watchful eye. He caressed his chin as he kept a close eye on your movements, signalling to the pianist to pause when either of you did a step not to his liking. With every partnering trick that came up, Aemond made sure to show Tomás, standing from his chair to turn, hold, and lift you before urging the younger danseur to try. About halfway through the piece, his grip on your body had grown familiar, with the way his large palm covered the expanse of your waist, his touch firm on your thigh, and the featherlight caresses on your arm.

After the endless corrections and directions from Aemond, he made you start from the top once more. You took slow breaths as you presumed your initial position, pacing yourself as you started off the dance with a few counts where danced alone. It was going smoothly, miraculously enough, but you must have jinxed yourself because as you shifted to turn, you felt it. A sharp pain shot up your ankle, making you stop and drop to the floor in an instant. You clutched your ankle, hissing in pain. In a blink of an eye, Aemond was by your side, kneeling beside you.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. Let me see,” he urged, his tone now softer as he looked at you in concern. It was an old injury, a sprain from the start of your career that continued to haunt you now and then. You shook your head at the silver-haired man, before pushing yourself off the floor.

“It’s fine, Mister Targaryen. This always happens,” you reassured him, waving him off. Aemond stood back to his full height, gripping your elbow to steady.

“Are you sure?”

“Yup, I’m sure. Let’s continue,” you said, keeping the tone of your bright to reassure the silver-haired man before you. However, you could barely take a step forward without hissing in pain, your right ankle unable to bear the weight of your body. Aemond was quick to catch you before you stumbled, and you held onto both of his biceps. They were ridiculously firm under your touch, and if you weren’t in an immense amount of pain you would have ogled at the way they flexed underneath your palms.

“This won’t do, darling. I think this is enough for the day for the two of you,” Aemond sternly ordered, wrapping your arm around his shoulder to keep you stable.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tomás grumbled, frustrated with the interruption. Aemond’s eye shot up to the young man, his gaze sharp after hearing his complaint.

“Don’t give me that attitude when you can barely do a decent menáge. Now get the fuck out of my studio.”

You jolted at the sudden rise in Aemond’s voice, watching as Tomás practically shrunk in his skin, hurriedly turning around to grab his bags and leave the studio while the man beside you glared at the young dancer sharply. The moment the door shut behind Tomás, Aemond turned back to you, his gaze now rid of the harshness it had carried.

“Let’s get you to the therapy room, yeah?” He softly urged. When it had still been too mich for you to walk with his support, Aemond swiftly lifted you with his arms underneath your body, carrying you bridal style. Your face burned with embarrassment with having to be carried off by your strict, ridiculously hot ballet master this way, but he had been gentle with you.

Aemond stayed by your side as the physical therapist massaged the joint. His good eye watched you when your face contorted into one of discomfort when your ankle was rotated. You had thanked him profusely for his aid, and had tried to reassure him you were good to be left alone, but the silver-haired man stayed by your side silently, keeping a close eye on you.

You had been out of commission for three days, which you spent anxiously anticipating to be dropped from the role by your ballet master. You were done for, you decided. You had blown your chance, pathetically so in front of Paris Opera’s most influential ballet master.

As soon as you were cleared to return to rehearsals, you immediately jumped to your feet and practicing on your own. You went through the choreography over and over, finetuning your movements as you watched yourself in the mirror. It was late at night and you were the only one left in the building, or at least, you thought you were.

The door to the studio you occupied flew open, making you jump when the silver-haired man casually walked into the room. You stopped in your tracks, heart racing as he regarded you, seemingly unsurprised after finding you.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” Aemond said, his smooth voice cutting through the music you plugged into the speakers.

“The doctor cleared me for rehearsals, Mister Targaryen,” you explained, to which he only responded with a hum. His good eye ran over your form, which was only clad in a leotard and athletic shorts. Your hair was down, as it was supposed to be in Le Parc, and your face was flushed from exertion, damp with sweat. Aemond took slow steps towards you with his hands clasped behind his back, meeting you in the middle of the room.

“You need to take better care of yourself, you know. A tear in your ligament is a tear forever,” he spoke, coming to tower in front of you. It was then you became insecure of your appearance, with your messy hair and sweaty face compared to his well-kept appearance. Your eyes stared into his good one, the other a cloudy white. He was incredibly handsome up close, this you realized, the sight of his sculptured jaw and aquiline nose making you visibly gulp. Your gaze dropped to his thin lips, which pursed before opening to speak once more.

“Yes, I know, Mister Targaryen, I’m sorry,” you muttered, tearing your gaze away to the floor. Two fingers placed themselves on the bottom of your chin, moving your head to look at him once more.

“Why are you apologizing?” Aemond asked. Your cheeks warmed as you stammered, unable to form a response. Truthfully, you were unsure why, perhaps it was for his disappointment for having hurt yourself, or for not having lived up to his expectations. The words you scrambled to find died on your lips when Aemond brushed a stray hair away from your face, before cupping you chin between his fingertips.

“I am only looking out for you. The Paris Opera may have some of the best rehab therapists under our roof, but some injuries just cannot be healed,” he said. Your eyes flickered to his cloudy eye, the rumors of his injury running through your mind.

You had heard in the past of the child protégé that was Aemond Targaryen, a young star destined for greatness. His family was descended from royalty and had been dancing in the King’s courts during the early formation of ballet. It was safe to say the young Targaryen was on his way to becoming one of the biggest stars in the ballet world, winning competitions left and right, receiving offers from the most prestigious ballet schools– Vaganova, Bolshoi, Joffrey, they all wanted him. The young danseur knew this was his legacy, to forge his name with the brightest stars in the ballet world. However, ballet was a deathly competitive sport, and dancers would do anything to climb the ranks, this Aemond had learned the hard way.

At 16, he had landed himself a spot as a finalist for the Prix de Lausanne, the most prestigious competition in the world, just a month before he was to fly off to Russia for training. It was the night before finals, he had been resting in his hotel room when a group of rowdy, inebriated dancers had knocked upon his door, wanting a glimpse of the famous silver-haired danseur. The details of the night remained unclear to the public to this day, but it was said that they had cornered the young Targaryen in his room, engaging in a scrapple that ended with Aemond rushed to the hospital, clutching his bleeding eye. That night, Aemond Targaryen’s dancing career met its tragic end. The ballet companies that once begged for him no longer wanted a scarred dancer who was blind in one eye, and his legacy had been reduced to nothing but a sad story.

And now, the silver-haired man stood before you, clutching your face as he studied your features. You were surely too close to each other to be considered appropriate, even more so when his free hand found its way to the dip in your waist, his warmth exuding through the fabric of your leotard.

“I don’t want to have to see you take your final bow before you reach the top,” he said lowly, his face subtly dipping an inch closer to yours. Your eyes slightly widened at his words, staring into his good eye for any sign of insincerity; you found none.

“You think I can reach the top?” you asked in disbelief, heart hammering in your ears. The corner of Aemond’s lips quirked upwards, his hand squeezing the flesh on your hip.

“Of course, you are one of the company’s most promising dancers,” he said, nodding lightly. You preened at his words, biting your lip as a big smile threatened to break out on your features. Your eyes fell to your fingers, fiddling with them as you turned shy at the ballet master’s high praise. The silver-haired man breathed out a chuckle at your reaction, his hand on your chin caressing the back of your head before settling on the nape of your neck.

“However,” he voiced, making you look back up at him. His face turned serious, making your own smile drop at his change of tone. “You have to go above and beyond to be nominated by your superiors. We have many talented dancers, many of whom are trying to climb the ranks, just like you. You have to make yourself stand out from the rest, do you understand?”

You nodded your head eagerly at him, your eyes displaying your sheer determination. “Yes, I understand, Mister Targaryen. I’m willing to do anything,” you said. There was a shift in Aemond’s eye when you uttered those words, the blues of his good eye brewing something darker. The grip on your waist turned tighter, shifting to rest on the small of your back as he pulled you in close.

“Anything?” he whispered.

“Y-yes, anything,” you replied. It was then you had begun to doubt your words, even more so when Aemond merely stared at you, his gaze analytic. A shudder ran up your spine when his eye dropped to your lips. A hum vibrates from his chest, and then he was pulling away from you, the warmth that engulfed you dissipating into a chill.

“Good. Now, why don’t we start from the top?” Aemond suddenly said, taking you by surprise. He raised his eyebrows at you, urging you to restart the music. You scrambled to where your phone was plugged into the speakers, restarting the music, before taking your starting position. Aemond positioned himself where the male dancer started, right in the center facing you. Your eyebrows furrowed while you did your first movements, clearly not expecting him to dance with you.

“You’re dancing with me?” you asked, confused. He merely smirked at you, watching you slowly move to the music towards him.

“Of course, you need to have a partner for this one, don’t you?”

The moment you touched him, Aemond started to move along with you. You flowed around him, soft and gentle. His moves were fluid, with textbook perfect technique and beautiful artistry. It was clear Aemond knew the choreography by heart, dancing along with you with ease. You subtly watched him through the mirror, amazement clear in your eyes. You were dancing with the Aemond Targaryen, being held and lifted by his strong hands. He danced like he had never left, flowing through the soft music while still clad in his boots and trousers.

“Don’t overthink it, little star, just move,” he encouraged, noticing how you were too focused on getting the movements right. With his advice, you willed yourself to let the tension in your shoulders go, gliding along the floor with Aemond’s guidance.

“There you go, well done.” Your face visibly brightened at his praise, meeting his eye in the mirror. A flush ran down from your cheeks down to your chest as he winked at you, a roguish smirk on his handsome features.

An incredulous smile broke out on your face as Aemond lifted you high up into the air with ease, still in disbelief with having found yourself in such a position. The dance was passionate, requiring great trust with your partner which you found with the silver-haired man with no trouble. You hadn’t felt this way when dancing with Tomás, nor with anyone really, with the way your muscles took a mind of its own and your body moved automatically with Aemond’s. To dance with the silver-haired man was something electric, filling you with an invigorating sensation as you sailed through the tunes of Mozart. You were lost in the music, you were lost in him, with the way his hands lingered a second too long after lifting you, his breath fanning over your face from your close proximity.

“Beautiful,” he whispered in your ear, snaking his arm around your waist when you leaned against him. Your heart raced as your chest heaved, from the exertion or from the adrenaline of dancing with the Targaryen man, you knew not. You missed the way Aemond’s eye raked down your form through the mirror, his gaze stuck on the sight of your nipples pebbled against the fabric of your leotard.

You stepped away from Aemond as you neared the climax of the piece, and it was then you faltered. You knew what was coming – the kiss. It was the highlight of Le Parc, with the dancers engaging in a long, passionate kiss as the man turned them around continuously. Your eyes were filled with uncertainty as you stood before Aemond, who was still watching your every move. Your fingers slightly trembled as you ran a hand down his body, and your breath shuddered when he did the same. You continued your movements around him, mind racing whether or not you should go through with the kiss. It was inappropriate, with him being your superior… but it was part of the choreography, was it not?

You faltered when you face to face before him, and for a second, you figured he wouldn’t want you to do it, but then you see it. A subtle dip of his head, and a flicker of his good eye towards your lips, waiting. You rose to the balls of your feet, planting your lips against his.

Aemond’s lips stayed on yours while your arms crossed at the back of his neck. His torso leaned back as you lifted your feet up the air, your whole weight leaned against his. You felt his lips move against yours as he spun you around, faster and faster around the room. You felt breathless and dizzy when he placed you back to the ground, but before you could continue with the choreography, Aemond’s hand grabbed the back of your neck to pull you back into his lips.

A gasp left your lips in shock, parting on instinct. Aemond’s tongue forced its way into the cavern of your mouth, the hot, wet muscle caressing your own. You pushed him away by the chest, but his stronger grip on you rendered you unable to pull away.

“Aem– Mister Targaryen, please,” you panted, trying to tear away the forceful hold on your waist. His other hand grabbed the hair on the back of your head, pulling on your damp tresses to make you look at him.

“You said you would do anything, wouldn’t you? Don’t you want to shine, my little star?” Aemond growled, before latching his lips on your sweaty neck. He groaned at the taste of your salty flesh, biting and sucking on the soft skin. You whimpered, your pulse thrumming dangerously against Aemond’s lips as you continued to push him off.

“I can make you shine. You’ll be first cast in any role you desire. You know I can make that happen for you,” he continued, pulling away to meet your teary gaze. The corners of your lips quivered downward when he caressed the side of your face, the touch giving you little comfort. Your whole body tensed when he pressed you flush into him, a stiffness poking into your thigh. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, swaying both of your bodies to the music that still continued to play through the speakers.

“You will be a star, my shining star. You want that, don’t you?” Aemond asked, his tone sticky sweet. As you met his sharp gaze, you weighed your options. He was right, he held the power to place you on top of one of the most prestigious ballet companies in the world, but you didn’t want to do it this way. You had the talent, and you wanted to prove your worth for the role, but he also had the power to take everything away from you. He can demote you, fire you, crush your entire career to nothing but dust. You couldn’t let that happen.

With a gulp and a soft nod, you shuddered when Aemond smirked down at you. His hand pushed your shoulder down, urging you to your knees. Shame coursed through you as you watched him unbuckle his dress pants to pull out his cock. A gasp left your lips when you were met with the sight of his impressive length. A throbbing vein ran the underside of his shaft, its cockhead flushed a deep red as it weeped a clear liquid. His hand guided the tip to your lips, but you kept them closed, turning your head away in refusal. With a frustrated grunt, Aemond’s free hand cupped your face, roughly turning it back to his cock. With your cheeks squeezed and your lips slightly parted, he slipped his length in. A delighted hum reverberated from your ballet master’s chest as he thrusted languidly into your mouth, adding inch by inch until he bottomed out. Your eyes squeezed shut when his tip hit the back of your throat, unable to resist the gag that squeezed his cockhead when it touched your uvula. Gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail, Aemond barely gave you a chance to take a breath before setting a steady pace of his hips. Your hands gripped his muscular thighs to balance yourself, hot tears dripping down your cheeks.

“Use your tongue,” the Targaryen ordered. You complied obediently, even going so far as hollowing your cheeks to please him further. You were starting to resign to your faith, if this is what it took to make you an étoile, fuck it. Aemond threw his head back, groaning in delight at the added pleasure.

“Fuck, that’s it. My obedient little star,” he praised. His hips picked up their pace, pushing in and out of your mouth fast. The sound of your mouth taking his cock filled the studio, coupled with the music that continued to play from the speakers. His grunts continued to fall from his lips, his thrusts growing desperate as he neared his release. All of a sudden, Aemond pulled you off his cock. You coughed as you struggled to catch your breath, wiping off the pre-cum left on the side of your cheek. The flesh of your arm was gripped tight when the Targaryen pulled you to your feet, guiding you towards the mirror.

He turned you to face the reflection, your eyes meeting the sight of your flushed, teary face, lips swollen and cheeks stained with tears. Aemond caressed the exposed flesh of your arms softly, dipping his neck into the crook of your neck to suck a mark into the soft skin. You couldn’t help the way your eyes rolled back at the sensation, cursing your own body for its traitorous ways. His fingertips came up to hook into the straps of your leotard, pulling them down in one motion along with your bottoms. You crossed your arms instinctively to cover your parts, but Aemond was quick to stop you, grabbing your wrists to keep them by your sides.

“Don’t hide yourself from me now,” he scolded, tutting in mocking disapproval. You watched in the mirror as his eye took in your bare form hungrily, your body growing warm at his lingering gaze on your exposed breasts. His fingertips held a featherlike touch while they glided up the length of your arm, before grabbing hold of your plump tits firmly. A breath is hitched in your throat when he squeezed the soft flesh, a whine falling from your lips when he squeezed your perky nipples between his fingertips. You felt his cock jump behind you, hitting your rear. His touch traveled downwards, to your waist, your hips, and then cupping your sex with his large palm. A satisfied smirk spread on Aemond’s features when he pulled away his hand, the tips of his long fingers visibly wet and stick with your arousal when he spread them.

“Well, well, it seems like you’re enjoying yourself, little star,” he bragged, chuckling darkly when you meekly shook your head. “Deny yourself all you want, but your body will be thanking me by the end of this.”

“Please,” you pleaded. What you pleaded for, you didn’t know at this point, but you knew it wouldn’t get you anywhere good at that point. You let him bend you over, pressing your hands to the cool mirror to steady yourself. You waited with bated breath as you felt Aemond line himself with your slit, gasping when he began to breach. The slick from your saliva on his cock helped lubricate his length, coupled with the slick that dripped from your core against your will. Your jaw fell slack at the almost painful stretch of your walls, a small whimper falling from your lips when he finally bottomed out. Aemond let out a groan when his hips met your ass, his hand leaving your waist to deliver a smack to the plump flesh. His aquiline nose pressed into your cheek, breathing in the sweet scent of your warm, damp flesh. His pace was unforgiving from the start, forceful and aggressive. The silver-haired man’s gripped your breasts in his large hands to ground himself, reaching deeper and deeper into your walls.

“Ah, ‘s so good, baby,” Aemond praised, biting the shell of your ear as he groaned. Despite how much you fought your own urges, you barely registered when your lips started to emit soft sounds that echoed through the room. The music had already ended, the only sound left being the smacking of skin against skin, and the sounds coming from you and Aemond. You both watched the way his length disappeared into your cunt, your chest starting to grow speckled with a red flush the more your body grew heated. His cock drove into the rough spot that made your skin tingle, sending sparks up your spine despite your wishes. Your hips moved on their own accord, subtly meeting his thrusts. Aemond let out a breathy chuckle in your ear, planting a kiss to the side of your head.

“Yeah, you like it, don’t you? Like my cock, pretty girl?” You bit your lip as you nodded your head, squeezing your eyes shut in humiliation. The Targaryen tutted in your ear, grabbing your face to make you meet his gaze in the mirror.

“Look at me,” he ordered. You opened your hesitantly to meet his, though they threatened to close once more when his fingertips dipped down to circle your clit. Soft moans fell from your lips as he played with the bundle of nerves, the heat in your belly disgracefully growing the more he rubbed on your nub. “It’s okay, baby, no need to be ashamed. I’m making you feel good, aren’t I? Hm? Taking good care of my little star.”

Aemond was mindlessly rambling in your ear, his words making your stomach flip at the lewdness. His hips never faltered, snapping harshly into your ass continuously. The air in the room was hot and humid, droplets of sweat beading off of yours and Aemond’s skin. You whined as the heat in your belly rapidly grew upwards, rising to your chest. Your walls began to clamp down on Aemond’s cock, squeezing his length deliciously. He groaned into your ear, his fingertips still circling your clit hard.

“F-fucking hell, you gonna come?” The danseur asked. You grabbed his taut bicep in one hand, leaning your head back against his shoulder as a series of whiny ‘yesses’ fell from your lips. He continued to spurn you further, keeping his good eye on you when a particularly harsh thrust had you falling apart on his arms. The sight of your teary face scrunched up in pleasure, coupled with the sound of the sweet moan echoing through the quiet studio was what drove Aemond to his own release. He came with a loud grunt, spilling his hot seed into your walls. His strong grip around your waist held you up when your knees grew weak from the weight of your climax. Regaining your senses, you held onto Aemond for support, your eyes meeting his in the mirror. The imprint of your hands stained the glass, the gravity of the situation dawning on you as you stood in the aftermath. Shame washed over you for having debased yourself for leverage, and for finding pleasure in Aemond’s corrupted wickedness. The silver-haired man behind you held a smug look on his face, releasing a satisfied sigh before leaning his head against yours.

“Perfect.”

The cheers and applause of the crowd threatened to deafen your senses, yet it was a welcome sensation. You had taken your bow after a successful performance, standing with the numerous dancers on stage. Everyone waited with bated breath for the upcoming announcement, the air buzzing with equal excitement and nerves.

“Ladies and gentlemen, join us in congratulating the Paris Opera Ballet’s newest étoile,” the voice boomed through the theater. You turned to look at a nervous Tomás, giving him an encouraging squeeze of the hand. However, it wasn’t his name that was called, but yours.

The shock was visible on everyone’s features, as it was in yours. You felt their heated stares behind you while you stayed rooted to your spot, frozen in disbelief.

A tall figure walked onto the stage, holding a bouquet of flowers. The applause only thundered louder as the crowd is blessed with the sight of Aemond Targaryen, who was walking towards you with a smile on his face. Having been responsible for your promotion, he was the first to congratulate you, handing you the extravagant arrangement of flowers. He kissed both your cheeks respectfully, before whispering, “Congratulations, my little star. I trust I shall be seeing more of your graceful talents soon enough, yes?”

You looked up to meet his gaze, taking in the suggestive tone in his voice. It was then you realized what you had gotten to, what you had paid for greatness. Your lips widened to a sweet smile, giving Aemond a small nod, much to his satisfaction.

#bella writes ✍️#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen smut #ewan mitchell #hotd x reader

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twinsimming · 4 months

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Growing Pains by Twinsimming 🥰😥🤗😴🤪🥺

Growing up is hard, and going through phases may make it a little harder.

Inspired by the phases system from The Sims 4: Parenthood, this mod aims to make younger sims’ personalities more dynamic.

This is a script mod that can be placed in your Packages folder. It was built and tested on 1.69 but should work fine on 1.67.

Requirements

The Sims 3: Late Night

The Sims 3: Generations

The Sims 3: Showtime

The Sims 3: Supernatural

The Sims 3: University Life

Overview

Phases System

List of Phases

New Moodlets

Phases System

Toddlers, children, and teens can now experience phases that change their personality.

Phases are moodlets that temporarily change one of a sim’s traits. Phase moodlets last for 2 days, with a 48 hour cooldown between the end of their most recent phase and when a sim is able to experience a phase again.

Each time a toddler, child, or teen sim wakes up, they will have a chance of experiencing a phase. The base chance of experiencing a phase is 20%, but this chance can increase or decrease by 5% based on the factors/moodlets listed below:

Increased Chance

- Witnessed Divorce - Witnessed Death - Witnessed Betrayal - Heartbroken - Stuff Taken - Stir Crazy - Abducted by Aliens - Embarrassed - Lost a Friend - Negative Mood - Has Enemy - In Trouble (Generations punishment system) - Stress Moodlets (Stressed, Strained) - Has No Friends Outside of Household - Adult Household Member Dislikes Children - Negative Relationship with Adult Household Member - Negative Prom Moodlets (Ditched, Got in a Fight, Denied) - Negative Celebrity Moodlets (Got Recognized Negative, Publicly Disgraced) - Negative Job Moodlets (Overworked, Fired) - Negative Social Moodlets (Lonely, Desolate, It’s Like I’m Invisible, Misunderstood, Need to Brood, Rejected) - Negative Romance Moodlets (Rejected First Kiss, Betrayed, Dumped by Text, Rejected by Ex) - Punishment Moodlets (Got in Trouble, Got Put in Timeout, Privilege Revoked, Grounded, Prank Backfire, Caught Pranking, Caught After Curfew, Detention)

Decreased Chance

- Has Friend Outside Household - Friends with Adult Household Member - Adult Household Member Has Positive Family Trait (Family Oriented, Nurturing)

List of Phases

There are a total of 28 phases total, with 5 available to toddlers, 21 available to children, and 28 available to teens. Once a phase is available, it will carry over into the next life stage. The phase names and the traits they add to sims are listed below:

Toddlers

Messy Phase (Slob)

Irritable Phase (Grumpy)

Certified Outdoor Hater Phase (Hates the Outdoors)

Restless Phase (Light Sleeper)

Clumsy Phase (Clumsy)

Children

Mean Streak Phase (Mean Spirited)

Distant Phase (Loner)

Clingy Phase (Shy)

Rebellious Phase (Rebellious)

Self-Absorbed Phase (Diva)

Sticky Fingers Phase (Kleptomaniac)

*Emotional Phase (Over Emotional)

Ill-Mannered Phase (Inappropriate)

Quick Temper Phase (Hot-Headed)

Anxious Phase (Neurotic)

Fearful Phase (Coward)

Lazy Phase (Couch Potato)

Erratic Phase (Insane)

Stoic Phase (No Sense of Humor)

Daydreamer Phase (Absent Minded)

Devious Phase (Evil)

*Shown in preview photos.

Teens

Loser Phase (Loser)

Materialistic Phase (Snob)

Emo Phase (Brooding)

Childish Phase (Childish)

Prudish Phase (Unflirty)

Noncommittal Phase (Commitment Issues)

Cringe Phase (Socially Awkward)

New Moodlets

There are 28 new moodlets, one for each phase, and all of them last for 2 days and have no effect on a sim’s mood.

Tuning

All of the tunable values can be found on the mod download page under the header “Tuning”.

Conflicts & Known Issues

Because this mod temporarily changes a sim’s traits, your sim may become unclickable if you also have Branndo10’s DrugLord mod installed at the same time. (Thank you to @monocodoll for the heads up!)

Otherwise, there shouldn’t be any conflicts.

Credits

EA/Maxis for The Sims 3 and The Sims 4, Visual Studio 2019, ILSpy, s3pe, Notepad++, Script Mod Template Creator, and deathbypufferfish for extracting the TS4 icons

If you like my work, please consider tipping me on Ko-fi 💙

Download @ ModTheSims

#sims 3 #ts3 #sims 3 mods #ts3 mod #download #my mods #growing pains mod

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ozarkthedog · 3 months

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𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐬

summary: you join Joel and Tess mid fuck.

warnings: 18+ mdni. joel miller x afab!reader x tess servopoulos. pwp. established throuple. pussy stacking. lots of fluids and rough sex. no beta. w.c. 1.7k

author's note: no real plot, i just wanted to smash them together. the title is too sweet for this fic but it fits.

-> IMPORTANT as tlou is made by a Zionist, as well as part 2 being based on the oppression of Palestine by Israel, I urge you to educate yourself in the light of the genocide happening in Palestine, specifically Gaza, right now. I cannot in good conscience post for Joel & Tess without bringing awareness to the horrific things that have been going on for 5 months.

☽ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ♁ 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ♁ 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ☾

You climb the stairs to your apartment, feet dragging like lead weights after a long day. As you slide your key into the lock, faint moans slither beneath the door. You smirk to yourself.

The obvious sound of flesh slapping against flesh meets your ears as you enter your tiny studio apartment. Joel snaps his hips, leaving them flush against the back of Tess’ thighs as she’s splayed across your bed, her legs bent at the knee over his elbows as he turns his head with a furrowed brow.

“Look who’s home,” Joel grunts, turning his head with a furrowed brow, a warm grin tugging at his lips.

Tess’ bliss-drunk eyes find yours. “Mhmm, sweetheart.” She reaches for you. Long, warm hands encompass your own. She looks like a goddess; her hair fans around her head like a crown while being praised with the utmost devotion by the man buried between her legs.

She pulls you into a fierce kiss, cupping your jaw with her hands and sliding her tongue along your bottom lip. The kiss breaks as a wrecked moan tumbles from her mouth when Joel grinds his cock just a bit deeper into her cunt, smothering her clit with this pelvis.

Joel juts his chin at you, his eyes trailing down Tess’ sprawled form, while his hips never miss a beat. Nothing ever needed to be said. The three of you move in sync, much like on the QZ streets. Stoic glances, pointed brows, and curt nods are enough communication.

You watch with intrigue as he fucks her into the mattress. Her body bends like a bow as she takes his cock as deep as it will go.

You couldn’t undress fast enough. Your ankle catches on your jeans, and you tumble onto the bed with a soft oof. Tess softly laughs, and Joel chuckles under his breath, but they carefully watch as you take your place between them.

Tess gasps and digs her hands into your sides as you slide your naked body over her quivering one, your knees sinking into the bed on either side of her hips. You weave a hand into her hair, keeping her still as pleasure races through her. You brush soft kisses down her naked chest, mouthing the soft plump of a breast while kneading the other with your hand.

You suck a nipple into your mouth when she arches her back, teething the tender bud while Joel roughly thrusts his cock into her heat. You smirk into her skin as she writhes from your dual assault. Having a powerful woman in such a vulnerable position made your head dizzy and cunt throb.

Your body jolts on every savage shove as Joel fucks her. She lifts your face from her chest, finds your mouth again, and lays a branding kiss on your lips. Her body squirms beneath you, rubbing and caressing your curves together while her hands encompass your ass. She palms at you, pulling you apart for Joel while he ravages her. She knows he can never resist you.

You hear him curse, a deep gravely, “fuck”, and it lights a bright blue flame in your belly.

A warm dollop of spit lands on your crack. Joel hums at his aim and watches his spit drip down your wrinkled hole and onto your pussy. It mixes with the slick that’s already spilling from your shiny folds. A low growl tumbles from his throat at the sight. “‘aven’t even touched you yet an’ you’re already a drippin’ mess.”

His devious tone forces a lithe whine from your parted lips, and you can’t help but arch your back toward his sturdy belly, grinding against it. “You achin’ for it, huh, pretty girl?” He never misses a beat, continuously fucking Tess while dirty talking you up and getting you more and more greedy for his cock. He spanks your ass with a large, mighty swat. “Be good and wait your fuckin’ turn.”

His thick, hairy belly bounces against your ass on each shove into her cunt. Tess shivers, a sensuous moan echoing around you as she creeps closer to the edge. Her dewy chest flushes, her nipples pucker, and her hold on you grows tighter.

“Yeah, that’s it. Fuck.” Joel groans, feeling her clamp around him. She’s on the brink, slowly tipping over the edge, when Joel halts his hips and withdraws.

The woman beneath you gasps. Eyes fly open, angry and ferocious, like she’s threatening someone who’s done her wrong. “What the fuck, Joel?” She seethes, lifting her head to look at him over your shoulder. You layer kisses along her collarbone, hoping to defuse the tension and whatever Joel was up to, just as you feel a warm, bulbous tip tracing along the dripping slice of you.

You inhale sharply and match Tess’ shocked expression as you look back over your shoulder. Joel licks his lips with a teasing tongue before angling his hips and thrusts forward.

“Oh, fuck.” You hiss. Your velvet walls encompass his girth, spreading and molding to his shape. “What a tight fuckin’ cunt.” He grits, gripping your hips and pulling your body until you’re flush against his svelte hips.

The twinge of pain burns your insides as his dusty pink crown nestles against your cervix. It feels like he’s in your belly. He’s so massive, just waiting to burst from the seams. Just as you take a deep breath, he punches it from your lungs with a harsh thrust. It pitches you forward further into Tess’ arms.

Tess holds you steady as Joel takes you from behind, grunting like a wild animal. His eyes rarely leave where you’re connected, watching with immoral intrigue as he fucks you with his cock that’s still stained with Tess’ cream. He sheaths himself deeper and deeper until you're dripping down your thighs, and his sticky balls wetly smack against your clit.

Tender, warm hands cradle your face and softly thumb the apple of your cheek, starkly contrasting to how Joel treats your body. “How’s he feel, sweetheart?” she purrs, eyeing you curiously.

You can barely think; the sickly, sweet rapture consumes your entire being. You reply with a garbled mess of moans. “That right?” She laughs, a deep, dark timber rumbling through her chest at your dumbness. She trails a hand down your body and dips between your legs, toying with your soaked clit. She rubs soothing circles around your bud in time with Joel’s thrusts, sending you careening head-first into bliss.

“Look so good being fucked by us.” Joel says, smacking your ass.

You’re close to igniting as the pair take you apart. It's a devastating mix of Joel’s massive body pummeling against you and Tess’ powerful aura. Your cunt spasms and tugs his length as he cants his hips, driving harder and harder until you’re on the brink of euphoria when he withdraws.

You choke on the air in your lungs. Brows tightly pinned together as you stare back incredulously at the man. He holds your stare and winks. “Gotta wait your turn, baby.”

You whimper as he gathers Tess’ legs back into his hold. “She made a mess of my cock, Tess.” He grunts as he breaches her slick hole once more. “Feel how wet she is?”

Tess hisses as he fills her. “Fuckin’ dreched,” she murmurs into your hairline as you lay against her chest. Your hands busy themselves with her breasts, plucking her nips with nimble fingers and laving at her pert buds. It’s a helpful distraction from the immense throbbing between your legs.

You watch as Tess' face twists with pleasure, the kind of bliss that feels like butterflies are flying around in your stomach when they make you watch from the side of the bed as they fuck, teasing you until you’re a blabbering mess, and only they can soothe your aching need.

Joel’s hips slam hard against her thighs on every shove. Her moans become louder and more frantic the faster he goes; she’s desperate to take whatever he gives her.

As your tongue swirls around one of her nipples, her body locks up. Joel grunts, muttering swears as he falls out of rhythm when a wicked, blissful moan slithers from Tess’ lips, and she comes around his cock.

You can’t help but moan at the sight; you love it when she allows herself to be so open and vulnerable.

Tess opens her eyes just in time to watch your face contort with ravenous desire as Joel spears his cock into your cunt. “Thatta girl.” She whispers as Joel bends at the waist and splays his back over yours, pinning you between their two bodies and effectively trapping you until they let you free. Not that you ever wanted to be free of them.

His mustache bristles your cheek. “Can feel how badly you want to cum, pretty girl.” Joel grits, plunging his length deeper and harder than the first time. “Your sweet pussy is just aching to milk my balls.”

It’s obscene how wet you are. Between your creamy arousal and Joel fucking you with Tess’ you’re all but dripping the combined fluid onto the sheets. It’s depraved and so fucking filthy.

“Look at you all cock dumb.” Tess moans, softly cupping your jaw with a crooked smile. “What a fuckin’ sight.”

Something white-hot blazes in your belly. You beg and plead; your pitiful cries echo in the small room, wanting them to pull you apart and piece you back together.

“Gonna make a real mess of you,” Joel informs, curling a hand around your throat and savagely tugs you back onto his cock. “Fill you to the brim. Mark you from the inside.”

Your pleasure ignites at his obscene words, swirling your cunt around his length and dragging him to the edge with you. His fingers dig into your hips. A dark growl rumbles deep within his chest. He fucks you full of his spend, finally adding to the combined, heady mixture, not stopping until he unloads every drop.

Your front half collapses onto Tess’ chest, strung out on dreamy bliss and still full of Joel’s cock as he catches his breath. He withdraws slowly with a hiss, and it’s like a dam has cracked. If you could feel shame, you would as your cunt profusely leaks the gluey spend from your swollen folds.

Joel curses at the sight. He drags his finger through the mess before lapping at it. You squirm as his warm, wet tongue drags up your soft curves and tickles your thighs. He contentedly sighs as he cleans you up while Tess smooths her fingers along your spine, lulling you into a sated sleep, taking care of you like they always do.

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

follow @ozzieslibrary for fic notifs!

#joel miller #tess servopoulos #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader x tess servopoulos #tess servopoulos x reader #tess servopoulos x you #pedro pascal #anna torv

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jupipedia · 11 months

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smile for the camera ! — choso. ↳ ❝ baby she look like a star, but only on camera. ❞ ↳ content warnings : nsfw ( minors do not interact ! ), guys THERE'S A PLOT, supermodel + photographer!choso x actress + supermodel!reader, black!reader, pleasuredom!choso, ( consensual ) explicit photography, praise, body worship, fingering ( f. receiving ), public sex ( in a studio ), exhibitionism, cunnilingus, cum play (?), unprotected sex ( no cream🥧s tho), pet names, overstim ( funny how she's always here 😅 ), not beta read.

choso posed in a seated position in front of several cameras, eyes having grown used to the constant exposure to the blinding flashes. despite his stoic and professional actions, he found himself to be in a bit of a predicament as he was instructed to hold your thigh that was placed over his shoulder with your heel resting on his thigh, his head leaning close to your core. it wasn't supposed to be arousing and he knew that if he was paired with any other model, he wouldn't be the slightest bit bothered.

but it was you.

he's known you for a while, almost as long as you've been in the modeling scene. you ran in similar social groups, have been to each other's places, and have done group and paired shots in the past. he'd consider the two of you to be a little close than friends after one or two substance infused hook ups, so that did nothing but enhance his current arousal.

he also a man, known to be a lustful creature when in the presence of the preferred gender. he can't help but to be little turned on when he has a beautiful woman so close to him that he can feel your body heat. you had on a pair of figure-fitting slacks and a blouse paired with the tightest vest that he'd ever seen and it looked great on you.

and maybe, just maybe, he had a little crush on you.

"we wanna get a few more close shots before wrapping up. could you two do a few poses from earlier? keep your heads relatively close though," the main photographer asked, motioning for you to get closer to each other. you nodded and removed your leg from its' position, prompting choso to remove his hand and take a deep breath to relieve his nerves.

you took a seat next to choso and shuffled close. you decided to rest your head on his shoulder, craning your neck to a semi natural position before giving your attention to the camera men. the two of you adjusted as they gave directions before changing to a standing pose. choso's arm was firmly wrapped around your waist, pulling you close to his as you looked to the side, giving the camera a clear view of your side profile. both of your hands rested on his shoulder as he kept facing forward, posing effortlessly.

it was smooth sailing until the photographer asked the two of you to make eye contact, your eyes meeting his dark ones. a familiar stir occurred in your stomach as you held the eye contact, his eyes darkening as your lips separated.

"good! great! okay, let's get the two of you changed and you're free to go. you guys did great as always. it's always a pleasure working with the two of you," the photographer speaks as the set begins to pack up.

"it's great working with you, too. i'll see you next time, yeah?" you responded, starting to undo the first few buttons of the vest as you walk to the dressing room. choso averted his eyes out of respect, but couldn't help as his mind wandered, imagining what you had on underneath.

"i'll see you soon," he tells the photographer before trailing after you. he caught a few knowing looks as he began to follow you and huffed out in amusement. "y/n, i have a favor to ask really quick."

"what can i do for you, handsome?" you turned back to him, vest fully undone along with a few of your blouse buttons. he smiled at the nickname as you wiggled your eyebrows, jokingly flirting with the man.

"i'm working on a few things for my portfolio and wanted know if you were free to do a few shots. i can give you more details if you're interested," he explained, looking down at you.

you shrugged. "i'm pretty free this week. just give me a time and place and i'll be there. hopefully, you'll send me a few so that i can post them and show the world how good you are."

choso blushed from the compliment. "i'm alright," he said coyly, turning away from your praise.

"you're better than okay. text me the details, pretty boy," you turned on your heels and complete your trek to your dressing room, leaving choso to look after you with a dopey smile.

yeah, he's got it bad.

you showed up to the studio as choso instructed, dressed as casual as you'd allow when you intended to take pictures. you were a bit earlier that original planned but choso was already there, telling you to come upstairs to the space he rented.

"hello, hello, hello," you announced your presence with a knock as you opened the door. choso was turned away from the door and towards the backdrop, leaning over his laptop as he edited a few pictures.

"hey," he greeted, quickly glancing over his shoulder as you walked to him. he did a double take as he noticed your outfit, heat rushing to his face and groin. "you look good."

"always do," you grinned, sitting your bag next to his laptop before leaning against the table. "so, what's on the agenda, cutie?"

"straight to business, i see. no time for chit chat?" choso joked, picking up his camera.

"what can i say? i'm a serious person," you said, shrugging with a playful smile before looking at his laptop. you moved to the gap between him and his laptop, bending a little to examine his work. "dude, you should really start commissioning. you're really fucking good at this shit."

"i'm still doing some portfolio building before i get to that point. i been doing a few shoots to prep for commissions, but nothing crazy."

"stop being so coy and start own up to the fact that you're not only a stellar model, you're also a really good photographer," you said, pushing away from the laptop and turning to face him. you could feel his breath tickle your lips before he smiled boyishly and moved back. "so, how do you want me, boss?"

"we're just doing a few natural shots, i need a few headshots and, well, you're beautiful so we'll take a few of those too. nothing too fancy," he explained after a few beats of silence, ushering you over to the backdrop. "you can start posing however you want."

you nodded and did as he instructed, immediately doing a few of your signature poses before trying a few new ones. there were a few natural shots where he complimented you and captured your dopey smile or when you started dancing slightly to the music he was playing.

"could i get one of you glancing over your shoulder?" he asked, squatting a bit to get a change of angle. you nodded and posed as he said. he took a singular shot before he lowered his camera, squinting slightly at your shoulder.

"something wrong?" you asked, turning to face forward.

"is that a new tattoo?" he asked, approaching you. he lightly pushed your curls from your shoulder to uncover said tattoo.

"it is. i've gotten a few since the last time you saw me. they're pretty inconspicuous though," you shrugged. you moved your curls even more to reveal the tattoo behind your ear. "this one is fairly new, too. i got it like two months ago?"

there was a heavy silence that filled the room as choso took a step closer, your bodies pressing against each other as he examined your tattoos.

he couldn't lie, the tattoos added to your attractiveness. he already knows that you aren't a pussy when it comes to needles as you have multiple piercing in your ears and a nose piercing, but the tattoos were different. sure they weren't that noticeable, but now that he knew they were there, that was all he could see.

"got any more?" he asked, voice huskier and breath tickling your ear. you shivered slightly, leaning back and resting your back on his front.

"wanna find out?" you asked, turning your head to come face to face with the man. choso didn't offer a response as he leaned forward, connecting his lips with yours. your head was pushed back by the force of this kiss but you quickly returned with fervor, turning in his arms and wrapping yours around his neck. choso hummed into the kiss, using your change in position as an opportunity to pull your body closer to his. there wasn't even room to pull apart for air as he moved his hand to cup your neck, deepening the kiss.

choso was the first to pull away, lungs screaming for air as his heavy breathing mixed with yours. the two of you maintained eye contact as you caught your breath before scrambling to strip, your skirt landing on one side of the studio and choso's shirt on the other. you sat on the floor, watching as he removed his pants.

instead of returning his lips to yours, choso decided to suckle on your neck, leaving a trail of hickeys as he descended to your breast.

"you're so beautiful, y/n," choso mumbles on your sternum. he pulls back to take in your naked image, your chest rising and falling as you inhaled. you shivered under his gaze, exposed to him without the effects of alcohol calming your nerves. his hands roamed your torso, occasionally groping a bit of pudge before caressing a new spot. one of his hands slid lower, heading towards your pussy. you were dripping and he's barely touched you.

as his hand traveled, his mouth found it's way to your breasts, deciding to peck and nibble on your areola before wrapping his lips around your nipple. your back arched with a moan as he firmly sucked on your nipple. his wandering hand found its way in between your folds, collecting the wetness on his thick fingers. he rolled your clit between his knuckles, causing you to squeal at the slight pinch. he removed his lips from one nipple and moved to the other, showing it the same attention that he gave the other.

"c-choso, please," you whined out. his deft fingers continued their ministrations, but you craved more. you want to feel more of him, all of him.

"i got you, gorgeous. i just need you to relax for me," he pulled away from your hardened peak as he spoke. he stared at you for a few more moments, trying to memorize the sight before an idea struck him. he reach over for he camera, glancing at you to read your expression. "do you trust me?"

your head swirled as you focused on the camera in his hand. on one hand, it was risky. it was less about how much you trusted choso and more about how easily someone could leak them if he uploaded them to his laptop. it would also mean you'd be vulnerable, all of you on display for him to capture.

on the other hand, it was thrilling. you couldn't help but attempt to clench your thighs at the thought of him using the pictures as fap material. you could feel the heat rush to your core when he picked up the camera, knowing what he was going to ask. you trusted him, he was always genuine and kind hearted, even in moments where he didn't need to be.

"yeah," you muttered out. choso gave you a small smile at your response before holding his camera up, giving you a few seconds before taking the first picture. you tried to appear as relaxed as possible, suppressing your nerves and jitters. he took a few before handing it to you. you looked at him, surprising and confusion swimming in your eyes.

"it's only fair if you get to take a few," choso said, deciphering your confusion. he didn't say much of anything else, choosing to resume his ministrations. he continued his trail of kisses, stopping at your mound. he left wet, sloppy kisses on your skin, looking at you through his eyelashes as he continued his descend. he settled between your thighs, anklet dangling next to his head as he lowered his mouth to you dripping heat. you let out a breathy moan at the feeling of his tongue grazing your twitching clit.

you looked at the camera in your hands, mustering up the strength to hold yourself up long enough to take a photo. the sight of him gazing up at you through his eyelashes was sinful.

almost as if the flash of the camera was all the approval that he needed, he began to run his tongue through your folds, circling your entrance a few times before taking another languid swipe. his arms wrapped around your hips, effortlessly pulling you closer to his mouth. he was devouring you, the lower half of his face covered in your arousal and his saliva. your moans egged him on as he suckles at the spots that made you louder.

"fuck! choso, please- ah!" you yelped as you felt his fingers begin to prod at your entrance. the feeling of his thick fingers stretching out your tight cunt had your eyes rolling back. your legs twitched around his head as he continued to pleasure you, pushing his fingers in deeply before dragging them out. a familiar heat pooled in your stomach, signalling the approach of your climax.

"gonna cum for me, doll?" he said, angling his fingers just enough to graze your g-spot. you clenched around his long digits, hands shooting for the loose bun sitting on the crown of his head. "soak my fingers f'me. you can do it."

his words paired with the constant stimulation of your pleasure point sent you hurtling towards your first orgasm. you wailed, legs quivering around choso's head as helped you ride out your orgasm.

"choso, 'm sensitive, no more," you pleaded out as he continued his ministrations, mouth and fingers never leaving your core. your hips bucked and your hands weaved through his hair, the bun long undone due to your pulling.

"can you give me another one, sweetness? i know you can," he muttered into your pussy, the vibrations causing your toes to curl out of overstimulation. you couldn't tell if you wanted to push him away or pull him closer but you had no time to decide as a second orgasm began to wash over you so quick that you couldn't even register the build up.

"that's it, baby. fuck, you soaked my fingers," choso groans out, pulling his fingers from your sensitive core and licking them clean of your slick. "hmm, you've got the sweetest pussy."

choso grabbed his camera from your hands, taking this opportunity to capture your blissed out state. your chest rose and fell as you tried to catch you breath and unblur your vision. a few of your curls stuck your forehead and you knew you lipstick was smeared as the red pigment lingered on choso lips.

"gonna let me feel you, beautiful? gonna be good for me and let me fuck you, hmm?" choso asked, aligning his leaking cock with your entrance. choso tapped your clit with his cock a few times as he waited for your response.

"please fuck me. please, i wan' it," you whined, bucking your hips towards his cock. you dragged your pussy against against his shaft, moan as his tip caught your entrance. his hips bucked, pushing into you without warning. choso groans deeply, placing his arms next to your head as he pushed into your heat. your breaths mingled, faces only a few inches apart.

choso basked in your moans, pushing one of your legs up to deepen his strokes and pull those sinful harmonies from your lips. your arms roped around choso's neck, pulling him down to connect your lips in a sloppy kiss. he swallowed your whimpers and moans, his deep strokes jerking your body from the force. his tongue rubbed against your own, allowing you to taste the heady flavor of your cunt.

"look at you," choso remarked, pulling away from the kiss to observe you. "you're taking me so well, baby. every time i pull out, she sucks me right back in. you're so pretty all fucked out f'me."

you were reduced to moans and whimpers, not being able to form a coherent phrase. he could tell that your shaking babbles were you calling out his name, crying out for the relentless pleasure. he felt you twitch around his cock, indicating your approaching orgasm. your volume raised, jumbled pleas falling from your lips as you begged for your release. he answered wordlessly, his hand returning to toy with you clit.

he continued his strokes after your brutal release, chasing his own and your final one. your hands found purchase on his wrists, squeezing it as you cunt was overworked. choso groans now held a whine edge as he approached his climax. he whimpered your name, lost in your warm vice.

you felt like you were on fire. your back ached from the hard floor and the force of his thrust. your legs burned, hamstrings taut from stretching your legs around choso's large frame. your brown skin glistened with sweat from the erotically warm room. your lungs burned and your throat was sore from the pleading, not even thinking to control your volume in a public space.

"ah, ch-choso! 's so much, mm! i can't-ah!" you squeak out, feeling the pressure pool in your stomach. choso leaned down toward your ear, your leg hitting your chest as he moved.

"you can. you're so pretty when you cum for me. you're twitching so cutely around me. you wanna cum f'me, baby? hmm, you wanna make a mess on my cock? go ahead, pretty girl. cum for me," choso whispered, breath tickling your lobe. you moaned out, not being able to properly respond as your orgasm crashed over you. you creamed on choso cock, body vibrating from the immense pleasure. choso choked on a moan, thrusting a few more times before pulling out, cumming on your chest and stomach. he groaned, noticing how a drops of his cum landed on your chin.

the two of you stayed on your position on the floor, mulling over what just happened. you nudged choso with your foot and he looked at you, breathless. you motioned to his camera and he understood, taking a shot of your body covered in his release before passing it to you. you took your own photo of his lipstick covered face, eyes still swimming with lust as his hands gripped at the fat of your thighs.

"you got a lil' something," you pointed to choso mouth. he wiped his lip with his thumb, seeing the lipstick stain on his thumb.

"yeah, so do you," he joked, motioning to the drops of cum on your chin. you wiped your chin, bringing your finger up to you mouth to taste his release. choso groaned at the sight and turn his head away, trying to prevent his cock from hardening.

"you should let me take you out to dinner," choso said, back to his timid ways as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"i've been waiting for you to ask me out for a month. we're gonna be a lot more than dinner," you giggled, pulling yourself up to him and connecting your lips once more.

#— (jupipedia.)#choso smut #choso kamo x reader #choso x reader #choso kamo smut #jjk x black reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #anime x black!reader #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #*ੈ✩‧₊˚❕*∘∘˙˚༄💨 ( a jupiter production. )

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dreamescapeswriting · 3 months

Text

Melodic Rivalry ~ KNJ

WORD COUNT: 3.5K

GENRE: Enemies to lovers, implied sexual interaction, surprise pregnancy, hiding pregnancy trope, angst, soft ending [Didn't include smut as it's an anon and I don't know your age, so it's implied that they have sex xx]

PAIRING: Namjoon x Fem!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - March 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

You stared down at the magazine with a disgusted look on your face, a photo of you and Namjoon on the cover with giant smiles on your faces as you sat together but the shot wasn't real. The two of you could never sit still long enough for a photo to be taken so the magazine had to photoshop the two of you together to fit the story that they had written and published.

All about how you and Namjoon were the perfect team, both of you had undeniable talent and worked well together in the studio. Namjoon was a musician with the knack of composing soul-stringing melodies, his talent knew no bounds and his music had the oer to move even the most stoic of souls. You were a producer with an unparalleled ear for sound, with the ability to transform raw talent into polished masterpieces and despite working well together in the music industry that was where everything stopped.

The two of you were like oil and water - constantly at odds with each other. Your egos clashed, your opinions collided, and your tempers flared at the slightest provocation. Working together was fraught with tension, each session devolving into a battle of wills and creative differences but each time the music came out brilliantly.

As you got to the studio door you pushed it open and found it dimly lit, the only light coming from a soft glow of a mixing console. Namjoon sat at his piano, his fingers dancing across the keys getting lost in whatever he was composing so you stood at the soundboard, your arms folded across your chest as you stared at him. He was supposed to be working on something more upbeat, not another love ballad he was no doubt writing.

"Oh, how touching. Another one of your generic love ballads, I presume?" You asked sarcastically, ignoring the glare that Namjoon shot your way, his jaw tight as he stared down at the keys.

"If you have something to say, Yn, say it. Otherwise, keep your critiques to yourself." He said through gritted teeth.

"Typical. Can't handle a little criticism, can you?" You rolled your eyes at him.

"Criticism? All you do is tear down everything I create! You have no respect for my talent!"

"Respect? Please. You're the one who waltzes in here with your inflated ego and expects everyone to bow down to you."

The tension in the room was thick with unresolved animosity but you stared at one another, your eyes twitching.

"For someone who claims to hate my music so much, you spend a lot of time listening to it." You stared at him, shaking your head and scoffing a little. Of course, you listened to it, you had to because it was your job.

"That's because it's my job, you arrogant prick!" You cried out, your anger way past your boiling point now but Namjoon just stood up and took a step closer to you, his gaze burning with intensity.

"Is that the only reason?" He asked softly, your breath caught in your throat, your resolve weakening with each passing moment.

"Of course not." You whispered, your voice barely coming out. Your eyes locked, a silent understanding passing between you. And in that moment, the world fell away, leaving only the two of you in the quiet sanctuary of the studio.

Without a word, Namjoon closed the distance between you, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. And then, in a rush of pent-up emotion, your lips met in a searing kiss—a collision of desire and frustration that sent shockwaves through you both.

For a moment, you were lost in each other, your bickering and resentment fading into the background as you surrendered to the undeniable chemistry that had always lingered between you.

But as quickly as it had begun, the moment passed, leaving you breathless and uncertain. You stepped away from him, your fingertips gently touching your lips as you stared at him.

"We shouldn't have done that." Your voice trembled a little as you looked up at Namjoon, his eyes were blazing.

"Why not? We both know there's something between us." He stares down at you.

"This... this is madness. We can't stand each other." You whimpered, shaking your head at him, Namjoon stepped closer to you though, his voice dropping as he stared down at you,

"Maybe that's because we're so alike. Two stubborn souls fighting against the inevitable." You determined to hate him, to push him away from you crumbled, your walls tumbling down in the face of Namjoon's unwavering honesty.

"We can't even stand to look at one another." You mumbled at him, it was true. The two of you could barely go ten minutes without a fight breaking out. The kiss had been a one-off, the passion and sparks you'd felt were nothing more than a static shock or something.

"Stop fighting it, are you scared?" He smirked at you and you hated him for it. You wanted to wipe that smug look off his face,

"No," You scoffed at him, rolling your eyes as you tried to ignore the way your heart was thumping for him, the way your palms were sweating.

"Everyone knows we should be together, we should just embrace it," Namjoon smirked, your eyes meeting as you bit down on your lip. You had your reservations, the two of you bickered like an old married couple and you weren't sure it was healthy.

"Stop overthinking it," He whined before your lips met once more, the tentative kiss turning quickly into a fiery passion neither of you could deny. Your arms wrapped around the back of his neck as finally that pent-up tension and longer erupted into a raw and unbridled kiss.

"I've wanted to do that for so long." Namjoon rushed out, his voice husky as you worked on unbuttoning the shirt he was wearing,

"Me too." You breathed out, kissing him deeply as he carefully took you over to the sofa, both of your clothes being strewn around the room as the kiss between you heated up once again.

Ever since that night in the studio with Namjoon, you did everything within your power to avoid him, you started working from home, switching to another group to work with not being able to face him but today had been inevitable, you had to go into work because of a meeting with Hannah, your manager and also one of your best friends.

The two of you had shared one night of unbelievable passion but when you woke up the next morning he was gone, his clothes were gone and there was a note on his desk asking you to lock up when you were dressed. Since there you'd not even received a text asking how you were, or even a call and you hated him more for it.

I've wanted this for so long.

Had been such bullshit, something he was saying just so that he could get laid, anger bubbled inside of you until you snapped the pencil you were holding.

"You okay? You look unwell," Hannah said as she gently rubbed your back, you were feeling a little under the weather but you put it down to the fact that you were going to have to face Namjoon sometime soon.

"Just a little queasy, that's all." You said with a forced smile, trying to brush it off but Hannah narrowed her eyes at you and exchanged a look with John, one of your other work friends.

"You've been feeling off for a while now, maybe take some holiday days." He suggested with a furrowed brow. It wasn't like you to get sick which was a little concerning for all of them.

"Yeah, maybe you're right." You muttered weakly, slowly standing up from the desk as your stomach churned with anxiety and a sinking feeling settling in the pit of your stomach.

"Yn?" Hannah called out but you sat back down in the chair, your bin between your legs as you threw up the contents of your stomach again.

"Here, drink this," John said as he slid you over a glass of water, Hannah was running to her desk and rummaging through it all.

"Hans? What are you looking for?" You mumbled, wiping your mouth with a tissue and staring at her as she walked back over to you.

She was the only person other than you and Namjoon that knew what happened in that studio 6 weeks ago and John frowned at the blue box.

"Take it," She told you plainly, John sent her a puzzled look with confusion written across his face.

"I...I can't...It'll make it all real," You'd had your suspicions that it was true but you figured if you ignored it long enough and denied it then it couldn't be real.

"Take it, we'll be here for you, no matter what," Hannah told you as John nodded, helping you stand up as they all walked you toward the women's toilets.

Those three minutes you were supposed to wait for the test felt like three hours, each second ticking by tortuously slowly as you, John and Hannah stared around the small office waiting for it to tell you the truth.

"Time," John said as his watch began to beep, your hand linked with Hannah's and you stared down at the pink stick, tears brimming inside of your eyes.

"I'm pregnant." Your voice trembled and instantly you were engulfed in a hug from your two favourite people.

"Work from home until we figure something out," Hannah told you, running her hands over your cheeks and wiping away the tears.

It had been almost five months since discovering you were pregnant and you'd done everything you could to hide it from Namjoon. If he had done everything to get you to leave him alone after your night together then you weren't going to tell him about the kid but the weight of hiding it was crushing you.

You paced around your office, a mix of fear and uncertainty raging inside of you as you waited for John to hurry back with the next stack of assignments you needed to work through.

"Everything is there, I'm sorry I promise next time I'll bring them to you. I'm just swamped." John said as he gave you a bag, you nodded quickly kissing his cheek and making a dart out of the door. You needed to get out of the building before anyone could spot you and the news got back to Namjoon.

Lost in your thoughts as you walked through the halls, you nearly collided with someone as you rounded a corner. You slowly looked up and whimpered finding Jungkook standing there,

"Hey! Sorry! Are you alright?" He frowned staring at you,

"You look like you've seen a ghost." He laughed nervously but you just shook your head at him,

"I'm fine, just a bit...distracted." You said with a forced smile but Jungkook's browns knotted together as he slowly looked down at you, his eyes lingering on your swollen belly/

"Is everything okay? You look like you're about to pop.." He laughed softly and your heart raced, panic bubbling up inside of you as you struggled to come up with an explanation. Jungkook had seen you those seven months back coming out of Namjoon's studio with a freshly "fucked" look on your face.

"Yeah, everything's good. Just...tired, that's all." You said hesitantly, smiling weakly as he stared down at you.

"It's his...right?" He waited for you to say something but you didn't even want to admit it to yourself, admitting it to Namjoon's bandmember was going to be damn near impossible,

"Jungkook." You pleaded, shaking your head at him as if asking him to stop all of this.

"Yn, is it his?" You stared at him, your stomach churning with anxiety as you tried to think of something to say but your mind was racing at a million words a second.

"Please, Jungkook, you can't tell Namjoon. He can't know about the baby." Jungkook's eyes widened in surprise as he stared at you. Everyone knew how badly Namjoon wanted to be a father and hiding something like this from him would no doubt kill him.

"Why didn't you tell him? He has a right to know." He didn't mean for it to come out as harsh as it did, he knew you were pregnant and in a delicate place right now but Namjoon deserved to know he was going to have a kid.

"He lost that right when he made it clear that night meant nothing to him like he claimed it did." You grumbled, pulling your coat over to cover your bump to make sure no one else was likely to see you.

"Yn," Jungkook said slowly but you held your hand up,

"Don't make excuses for him Jungkook. He fucking used me." Your voice trembled as tears welled up in your eyes, the weight of everything finally causing you to crack.

"You can't hide this from him forever. He has a right to know."

"Just let me figure things out first." You mumbled, begging him as he stared down at you.

"Fine." He stared at you as you nodded, slowly walking away from him as you felt an impending doom hanging over you, threatening to shatter everything you'd built to protect yourself.

After you left Jungkook stood outside of Namjoon's studio, his heart heavy with the weight of the truth he was about to reveal. As much as he wanted to keep your secret he didn't want to do that to his friend and he knew there was more to the story than Namjoon ignoring you after a night together.

"Joonie, we need to talk." He said as he walked into the studio, Namjoon frowned at him but nodded for the youngest member to sit down.

"What's up?" He asked him slowly as Jungkook's throat tightened, his head muddled trying to find the right way to say it.

"It's about Yn." Namjoon's hand on his pen tightened,

"What about her?" He asked, animosity laced in his voice as he thought about you.

"She wanted to come crawling back to us? I don't want her working with us anymore." He grumbled out, Jungkook eyed him up as he stared at him wondering what had gone so terribly wrong between the two of you.

"She's not welcome here anymore."

"Why?" There was going to be no more dancing around the topic and not mentioning your name as if you were Voldemort.

"She knows what she did wrong." He hissed making Jungkook frown. It seemed the two of you believed the other was in the wrong.

"What did she do, Hyung?"

"She slept with me when she had a boyfriend waiting for her at home." Jungkook knew you were single, you'd devoted every single second of your life to music.

"Boyfriend? Noona doesn't have a boyfriend."

"So who was John? He was texting her all night, asking where she was and when she was going to go back to him because he was waiting for her back home." None of that made sense,

"John is one of her co-workers, he works with TXT," Jungkook told him before realisation began to register with Namjoon who the man had been.

"So...W...What did you want to talk to me about?" Jungkook sighed a little.

"She's pregnant, Namjoon. Seven months along." Namjoon's world came to a crashing halt as he stared at him, his mind reeling in disbelief and confusion.

"How?" He asked shocked, Jungkook hesitated, his gaze filled with sympathy as he watched everything hit Namjoon.

"You know how." He said softly but Namjoon just stared at the floor. The truth hits him like a ton of bricks, everything falls into place. Your sudden avoidance, working from home and refusing to be their producer anymore. It was all making sense now.

"She's carrying my child," He whispered as Jungkook sighed a little.

"She asked me not to tell you but you needed to know," Namjoon nodded at him, barely acknowledging him as he slowly got up and made his way out of the studio.

Before he knew what was happening Namjoon was outside your place and knocking on the door. He knew it was going to be hard to talk to you about all of this since so much time had passed but it was time to face the truth.

"We have to talk." Namjoon said as soon as you opened the door to him, your chest aching with seeing him standing there. You knew Jungkook wouldn't have been able to keep his mouth shut so you'd been preparing for him.

"What about?" You stared at him as he took in a deep breath,

"About the baby," His eyes were filled with something you'd never seen from him before, he looked so vulnerable.

"What about the baby?" You asked, stepping to the side and letting him into your apartment.

"I want to be a part of their life, Yn. I want to be there for them, to watch them grow up, to be their father." Your breath caught in your throat at his words,

"Why? You practically kicked me out the night after we had sex so why all of a sudden do you care?"

"I thought you had a boyfriend! Okay? I saw a text from John and I thought-"

"That I was whoring myself out to everyone so you just decided to give me the cold shoulder?" You snapped angrily at him, you couldn't believe he would do something like this.

"You're the one hiding my child from me!" He grumbled at you and you sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose.

"This is why we can't do it together. We fight all the time, we just scream at each other." You mumbled, sitting down on the sofa and feeling completely defeated.

"Yn."

"Can you look at me and tell me that when this baby comes it'll work out between us?" You didn't want to keep his kid from him but you also were scared of everything that was coming,

"No."

"So-"

"But I love you, okay? Fuck, I've loved you for so long and I just never show it right." You stared at him in complete shock.

"I love you and I love our baby. I may not have been ready to admit it before, but now...now I can't imagine life without you."

"But-" You barely had a chance to object before Namjoon continued.

"The last seven months without getting to see you have been torture. I miss the jabs you used to say, I miss seeing you...Please."

"We've both made mistakes, Yn. But that doesn't mean we can't try and make things right. For the sake of our child, and for the sake of our love." Tears built inside of your eyes as you struggled to process everything.

"I want to believe you, I do...but...But I'm scared. Scared of getting hurt, scared of losing you again." You finally admit, your tears free falling as you finally let yourself admit you loved him back, that you were hopelessly in love with him.

"I won't let that happen, Yn, I promise you. Just give me a chance to prove it to you and show you how much you mean to me."

"I love you too," You whispered to him, your heart racing as he smiled down at you.

"We can try." You told him as he hugged you close to him,

"Tell me everything I've missed? D-Do you have photos?" You nodded at him, slowly taking him through to your bedroom to get the album you'd already started making of your ultrasounds.

A soft glow filled the cosy living room as you and Namjoon sat together on the couch, your laughter mingling with the sound of your son's joyful giggles. It had been a year since that fateful night when Namjoon had shown up on your doorstep, and in that time, your lives had changed in ways you could have never imagined.

Your son toddled around the room with boundless energy, his chubby cheeks flushed with excitement as he chased after his favourite toy. Namjoon watched him with a smile, his heart swelling with pride at the sight of his little boy.

"Look at him go, babe. He's getting so big." He said with a giant grin on his face, you smiled as you stared at him, your eyes shining with love as she reached out to ruffle his hair.

"He's growing up so fast. I can't believe he's already a year old." You whined, you hated that it was going too quickly. You wanted him to stay young forever.

"I'm so grateful for you, Yn. For him. For everything." Namjoon said as he kissed your head softly. Your heart swelled with emotion at his words, your eyes shining with unshed tears as you reached out to take his hand in yours.

"And I'm grateful for you, Namjoon. For giving us a second chance, for never giving up on us." Your voice shook a little and he kissed you softly.

In that moment, as you sat together in the warmth of your shared love, you knew that they had found something truly special—a love that had weathered the storms of doubt and uncertainty, emerging stronger and more resilient than ever before.

@chiisaiblog@sw33tnight@kaitieskidmore97@laylasbunbunny@tinyoonsblog@whitefoxgirl@katnisspeetaprim@acciocriativity@choisoorin@heyjiminnie@btsiguess-kpop@halesandy@gothic4under4lord@soulphoenix1618@aerastus@jin-from-the-block@lenfilms@elizaschuyler18@piratequeen-impact @Namgiswifey@delulu18@xyahrinx@katsukis1wife@anthropologymajorkpopmultistan@blairscott@4-chan-inpadella@swga-ficrecs@niktwazny303@armystay89@myyouthdonut@xakx@kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy@kpopmenace143@loveforred@b1nn1e-1s-cut3@elissasimp @royallyjjk @parkjennykim @piercedddriver

#bts #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts imagines #namjoon #namjoon x reader #namjoon imagine #namjoon imagines #kim namjoon #kim namjoon imagine #kim namjoon imagines #kim namjoon x reader

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lokisgoodgirl · 11 months

Text

Stiff | [Avenger!Loki x Fem.Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: You have an unexpected pupil in the yoga studio. And he's wearing very tight pants. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smuttish. Language. (w/c 2.4k)

Bend your leg in front of your body, extending the other behind, and lean forward- You complied with the voice in your ear, fingertips crawling forwards up the soft pile beyond your yoga mat. Despite best efforts, your mind was wandering to baser things. To a certain dark-haired daydream in leather with an ass that wouldn't quit. Feel the stretch in your hips, through your glutes. Reach further. Breathe in- The shutters of your mind rolled down to the tone of the voice. And out.

And then, for no particular reason, you lifted your forehead from the mat.

“Hello, Agent” Loki mouthed silently from the doorway. He was leaning against the frame, cocky. You could tell he had emphasised the second part of his opening gambit. The Australian accented man in your ears continued to tell you to breathe. Helpful, thank you; you thought, seeing Loki’s eyes narrow. He tilted his head, curious; one shoulder resting jauntily with his arms crossed. Despite his expectant closed-lipped grin, the god looked worn. Dark curls had been smoothed back in a hurry, his leather battle-coat hanging around crossed ankles. It was dirty. With a nod of acknowledgement, you lowered your head again, pressing the skin further into the foam. Shit. You looked like shit. The big guns never came to the supplementary activities parts of the gym, away from the weights and machines – everyone knew that. Occasionally Bruce, who never made it past the first round of barre. But Loki? Never. Noting the fact your heart was pounding like you’d done twenty on the treadmill, you unfurled your spine. Out the corner of your eye, you saw him straighten. You brought the extended limb behind you back in front, crossing your legs in a basket in a move you hoped looked graceful. If Wanda could see you now, she’d wet herself with laughter. Removing one of your earphones, you rolled your shoulders. “Can I help you, Laufeyson?” Loki chuckled, clasping his hands ceremonially behind his back. “Yes, actually. Rogers said I might find you tucked away in here.” “Well...here I am” you said, the slight tremor in your voice making you wince. A quick switch of the legs bought you a few moments of feigned concentration. You focused straight ahead, preparing to lower. All you could see from the corner of your eye was the thick leather of Loki’s boots beneath his stoic form, the skin glinting. Silence was deafening. You turned your head slightly, seeing his beautiful lips parted, ready to release.

“I was hoping I could join you in this,” he gestured whimsically in your direction, “venture.”

“I didn’t think yoga was your thing,” you laughed incredulously, flinching as your hip flexors objected. He curled an errant strand behind his ear, looking down with a puff of mirth. “It’s not, truth be told,” Loki said with a wisp of darkness. He looked up with a targeted smoulder. “But Agent," he purred, "you would not believe how stiff I am beneath these leathers.”

You blinked. Is he for fucking real right now? You let your eyes track over Loki’s earnest face, waiting for the sly smirk of mockery that always accompanied his innuendos. “The mission,” he said bluntly, raising his eyebrows. All you could muster was a slow nod, pursing your lips against the shameful desire building in your yoga pants. If this is actually happening, you thought as you mapped the fan of Loki’s lashes while he inspected his nails, I will never ask for anything from god ever again. Suddenly, you frowned. “You’ll have to change. Even you would struggle to pull off these moves in leather.” “I assure you, there is nothing I can do naked that I cannot do in leather, pet” he purred with a wink. The familiar smirk began to tug at the corner of his mouth. And there it is. You rolled your eyes while Loki paced over the cream carpet, leaving huge muddy boot-prints in his wake. “But be that as it may,” he said, glancing back at the trail with mild interest, “these battle garments are rather filthy. And I know how Roger feels about filth in his gym.”

Against your better judgement, you let your eyes linger as green flames began to lick at Loki’s leather soles. It rolled upwards with aching precision, perfectly formed bare toes revealed like a portal beneath the boots.

Tight, luxurious fabric appeared above muscled knees, and then his thighs; soaring upwards. The fabric was painted to him. Every inch of seidr revealed more of Loki Laufeyson than you had ever seen before, and by god – you didn’t hate it. A simple tank top covered his chest, sleeves cutting to expose his arms. Firm. Biteable. With a self-satisfied flex of his shoulders, the magic’s edges met above his head, melting into itself while it breezed newly glossed curls. “Much better,” he smirked, while you stared mutely. The god stood as if waiting for appraisal, the pair of simple cropped yoga pants snug and low on his hips. And tight. He stretched up, bending theatrically from side to side.

Deep valleys of muscle strained at the edges of the waistband, sitting shamelessly low above his pelvis. Cum gutters, you thought intrusively, before shaking it from your mind. With growing horror, you realised that you were now irrevocably slick beneath your gym gear. Hot, and sticky. The trousers Loki wore held a silky sheen, tight to his bulging thighs that shifted like water as he stepped closer. You might have been less flustered if he’d been naked.

Don’t look at his cock, you begged. Fabric stretched and strained over the ripple of his femurs, clinging to his chiselled body in mouth-watering detail. Don’t look at his cock. He stopped several feet away, rocking on his heels while long fingers pressed the deep carving of muscle –cum gutters- leading down to his- “So tell me, Agent, where do you want me?” “Anywhere” you choked, immediately cursing yourself as you swallowed your spit. Loki chuckled, a second yoga mat unfurling on the floor beside your own from thin air. “Wonderful,” he said quietly. Taking several deep breaths, you closed your eyes. Re-centre. Act like he’s just a normal- You glanced to the side. He was staring expectantly, like you were an idiot. His proud brow, furrowed. “I require tutelage. I thought that was plain.”

Loki sat on his knees, palms resting gently on those enormous thighs concealed beneath exotic fabric. The creases of his abdominal muscles heaved gently with every tight breath beneath the vest. “Oh,” you said incredulously, brain catching up with your ears. “You’re serious.” Loki scoffed, brushing his hair back. A plain hairband appeared, holding it away from his face. “Agent, really. When have you ever known me not to be serious.” You felt the sides of your mouth twitch, mirroring his own. “Okay, this next one can be tough if you’re a beginner...and especially if you’re stiff-” Loki smirked, as you continued. “-you need to put your elbows on the floor, like this. And then widen your hips like...like this,” It may have been your imagination, but you were sure that Loki’s lingering stare weighed heavy on your ass as you spread wide. But, after a pause, your student did as he was asked. Shamefully, all you could think of as his thick forearms hit the mat was how they would look on either side of your head as he fucked you into the floor. How the veins would harden and strain, just like they were now. You swallowed, tracking the trail of his knees as he easily slid his legs apart. Down went his hips, sinking deeper. The dents of his ass clung to the sweatpants like a second skin, every ripple of solid flesh making it crease maddeningly as he shifted into position. His calf was centimetres from your own, fine hairs ghosting your skin. “Very good,” you chirped unconvincingly. “I feel a tightness, a fire...a...uhhh - Norns, it smarts,” Loki groaned, clenching and unclenching his fists against the mat. The knuckles whitened while his hips rocked back and forth. You bit your lip to halt a whine as he cursed under his breath in some unknown tongue, crotch edging closer to the floor.

“Don’t overdo it,” you heard yourself chide. “You wouldn’t want to pull anything down there.”

While he stared at the floor, you saw one side of his dimples flash. But he said nothing. There was a low sound, gentle thuds thwapping in time with his movements. His cock, you realised; eyes widening while you tried to hold it together. His cock hitting the mat. Was he not wearing underwear? He couldn’t be. Not in those pants, you smirked. “What next, in this ludicrous display of mortal contortion?” Loki huffed, the clench of his abs visible through the deep loop of a vest armhole. You needed to stop staring or you’d put your neck out. “You’re the one moaning,” you quipped, sinking lower. The mess in your panties seemed to grow hotter as your thighs widened, aching with a need to be filled. As Loki’s eyes peered over his shoulder, your lower belly collapsed in on itself like a black hole. He squinted. A warning. Careful, it said. “Bring your toes together behind you, like a frog” you said cheerfully, hoping he couldn’t smell the desperation. “Like a what?” Loki scoffed, drawing his feet together to make a triangle. It was your turn to let out a snort. “You know what a frog is, I know you do. Thor’s told that story a thousand times.” Loki was silent, but you could tell he was smiling. A wave of regret rose in your belly, suddenly realising what came next.

“Now push your hips forward in a, um, a rolling motion.” “Demonstration, teacher.” Loki commanded it, every syllable enunciated. Soldiers standing to attention. Balanced one forearm, the god tilted his chin towards you. The luxe material of his vest draped perfectly against his broad chest, dripping against the muscles. Your stomach flipped. Slowly, whoreishly, you began to push your hips forwards. And then back. And then forwards. It had never occurred to you before, how suggestive this pose was. Or perhaps it was the company. The corner of Loki’s lip curled. “Ah,” he hummed darkly, “now that, I can do.” Your eyes locked, the depths of his swirling irises disappearing behind pools of black. His cheekbones seemed sharper, every line on his face smoothed as his chest heaved. Suddenly, you pushed yourself back to sit on your heels. “You know what, let’s move on.” Loki frowned. “Just when I was about to shine, how typical.”

Feeling heat blossoming in a slow crawl up your neck, you leant back with your calves still tucked beneath you. Your forearms rested on the floor, lowering your back flat. “Try this one,” you panted, waiting for him to join.

From this angle, there was no hiding the majesty of his appearance. The angle of his jaw, sharp with taut skin pulled against that ridiculous bone structure. The curve of his shoulder muscles, the way they squeezed together beneath the shirt as he lowered on those forearms. Every ridge and pocket of his body was ferocious masculinity, wrapped in luminous skin and those damn yoga pants. “What are those made of?” you nodded casually towards the pants unfit for human consumption as he lay flat on the ground beside you. Mirthril, probably; you thought. The timing was impeccable, just as the considerable bulge of his legendary cock pressed up against the fabric. You swallowed, swearing it twitched. “The finest Asgardian workmanship, I assure you” he winked, noting the place your stare rested. You rolled your eyes. “The pants,” you said, feeling the burn in your face. Loki chuckled. “Bamboo, I think.”

Bamboo. “Okay, raise your arms above your head, and hold on to your elbows,” you muttered, taking a deep breath as the stretch consumed you. You suddenly wondered if your arousal had soaked through your gusset. Loki moaned in pleasure, naturally thrusting up into the pose. “Good,” you breathed, watching in awe as the bamboo clung against the tense bulge of his thighs. As the perfect mound of his manhood appeared in perfect clarity. The waistband pinched his hips, shirt riding up. Veins at the crease of his pelvis wound up to his obliques. Thrusting upwards, you let out a grunt, immediately pressing your lips together. You glanced to the side. Loki’s chin was tilted to the ceiling, teeth gritted. The line of his cheekbone was a dagger, hollowed down to lips parted in concentration. His eyes were shut, a slight slant of his brows making you feel light headed. You thrust upwards again. “And, lower,” you gasped. Loki’s ass hit the yoga mat with a firm thump that shook the floorboards. Instinctually, your arms raised above your head, serotonin finding its way to every synapse of your brain. The sound of Loki’s shallow breaths filled the air. Like we’ve fucked, you smiled as your fingers wandered against the carpet. Suddenly, your skin met another's. You turned your face, meeting the god’s piercing stare. He didn’t look relaxed. He looked- -horny. Wordlessly your fingertips brushed together. Just enough to tingle. The scent of warm musk from Loki’s exposed armpit filled your nostrils. Dark and deep and moreish like summer rain on last autumn's leaves. His lashes fluttered down, before he bit his lip. You smiled. And that was all he needed. In a flash, you found yourself caged beneath one arm on the mat. His fingers spread by your shoulder, the warmth of his breath shrouding you in every daydream you had ever entertained about the allusive god of mischief.

“Oh, Agent” Loki purred, nuzzling against your cheek, “you think I have not noticed you?” You opened your mouth before silently closing it again. Loki’s eyes searched yours, “I have noticed you,” he murmured. He placed a chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth, before his tongue slipped past parted lips.

"Longed for you," he moaned quietly into your open mouth.

Your fingers slid into the base of his neck, winding in his hair; pulling him closer with a groan of relief. Messy curls fell around your face, trapped in fingers and lips and teeth. The heat from his bare skin, the weight of him pressing down, even a little, was heaven. After what felt like aeons, he broke from you; panting. A line of saliva strung from his bottom lip, landing on your chin. “Rogers doesn’t allow filth in his gym, remember-r?” you giggled nervously, cut off by a loud gasp as Loki’s palm pressed up against your clit. You could feel the slick between your thighs seep against his fingers. The fat, rigid meat of his cock pressing into your hip. Thrusting gently. Like he couldn't help himself. “Oh, Agent” Loki chuckled, taking his time with a lingering crawl of his eyes down your strewn body and back again. “I’m not sure you and Rogers are talking about the same kind of filth.” He wet his lips.

The walls of the yoga studio pulsed in a bright green flame, before fading. “But be that as it may,” the god smouldered, as you realised with a thrill that the room had been silenced, “what Rogers doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.”

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muntitled · 7 months

Text

𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐬 | 𝐋.𝐉𝐡

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❝ 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 ❞

✧ Genre: Smut (M)

✧ Pairing: Lee Jihoon x Fem!Reader

✧ Summary: “Did you bring me into the studio as your engineer or your whore?” He nods his head playfully jutting his bottom lip out as if he's pondering something vastly philosophical. “It can't be both?”

✧ Warnings: Language, Established Relationship, Possessiveness, Jealousy, Bratty Reader, Weaponizing!Wonwoo, Fluff, Workaholics in Love, Teasing, Producer!Jihoon, Musical Engineer!Reader, Smut (+18), Daddy Kink, Neediness, Dom/sub dynamic, Coercion, Brat tamer!Jihoon, Dom!Jihoon, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Oral Sex (Male rec), Orgasm Denial, Breeding Kink

✧ Word Count: 3.9k

✧ Playlist when writing: Here

A/n: I love my boyfriend- I mean my bias.

Perhaps it was your fault. You should have known something was amiss the very moment Jihoon called you in the middle of your recording session with another artist. Your eyebrows furrowed when you picked up the phone, and you lifted one finger, signaling a quick recess to Wonwoo, who nodded calmly.

This was particularly uncanny because Jihoon never bothered you during work hours, and, in equal regard, you refused to bother him.

Out of respect for the craft, he refused to break you out of that very delicate mindset that he, as a creative, understood the significance of. Washington could be burning, and he still wouldn't dare interrupt you during work time. This somewhat sacred convenant was forged as a means to protect your relationship from your work personas. You did not particularly enjoy who Jihoon was when he assumed the sacremental identity of 'Woozi' and heavens knows you were equally as intolerable when you were stationed in front of a soundboard. You were both tyrants in your everyday lives, and even now, Wonwoo seems marginally relieved to have caught some semblance of a break as you huddle into the short corridor outside the studio.

So with a very perturbed but slightly worried voice, you swiped on the answer button and enquired, “Is everything okay?”

“No,” comes his instant reply. The knot between your brows have yet to unweave as you rest your back against a wall. Jihoon was by no means the most cheerful individual you had ever met, in fact, you prided yourself greatly on being the very few sources of genuine cacophony and laughter in his life. Seungkwan, of course, was your most fierce competitor.

Still, there is something grave in Jihoon's voice. It is a veneer of seriousness that is strange even for him. You had been able to gauge this sense of wabing patience in his tone just from one fickle like little word. 5 years in a vaguely conjugal relationship with a person would do that to you.

“I think I finally got the entire verse written.” Jihoon is surprised to find the lie tumbling so smoothly past the gates of his teeth, especially because he's normally so shit at lying. What was the point? When the person you were lying to had all your mannerisms memorized as if they were living in your body with you.

He taps his finger idly along the yellow notepad seated on his bouncing, restless knee. "We should record it now,”

You shake your head in complete discombobulation as you brought a finger to your lips in contemplation, "Why would you need my help? I thought you were working with another engineer."

His teeth grate irritably against each other, and he rolls his eyes in a flamboyant display of vexation as he exclaims, "Are you really in the mood to fish for compliments right now?" He asks tersely, "I should not need to tell you that you're my most trusted engineer,"

No matter how stoic your work persona was, she was not immune to flattery. The smile cracks the crevices of confusion along your visage, and Jihoon can almost feel the pleasure at his praise oozing through the phone.

"Now, if you'll please join me-"

“Can't." You respond. No matter how vulnerable you were to Jihoon's praises, you still remained fiercely loyal to your job. "I've got 20 more minutes in this session and after that I have to be at a meeting with the label, and I still have to go pick up that bouquet of flowers for our neighbor- you remember her cat passed on?"

"Just tell Wonwoo you have an emergency," Jihoon's reply has your eyes narrowing in skepticism. Not only was Jihoon fiercely independent, but he very rarely indulged you in his clingy side. Up until this very moment, you even doubted whether that side existed at all. "Cancel the meeting," he nods slowly, "And fuck the flowers, we hated that vermin anyway. Remember when her cat pissed in your peonies?" Jihoon ran his hand through his hair as he nodded with finality, "Fuck the flowers."

A sort of realization dawned within you, and you fought valiantly to keep the tone of self-righteousness out of your voice as you responded, “You're hijacking me from another artist.”

His hiss is instant and laced with venom, “Be glad I even allow you to work with another artist,”

Jihoon did not mean to slip up so badly, but he was also a man that would very rarely say anything that he did not actually mean.

“I don't like sharing,” he croons quietly over the line, “You know this.”

And so he let his words hang stagnantly in the air between you two, drying like wet, white linen in the wind. He pauses as if guaging your response to his raw words. Jihoon enjoyed doing this. He enjoyed giving you vague tidbits of what state of mind he found himself in without actually divulging his every thought. The ball was figuratively in your court, and he wished to see how you might respond.

Your throat clears your throat momentarily, letting your brain run rampant with myriad schemes. It was not very often that you would have the upper hand in your relationship. Dating someone like Jihoon, someone so comfortable being in control meant you constantly forfeited whatever power you had in your work life. Jihoon teased you. It was never the other way around.

"How badly do you want me there?"

"How badly do you want me to let you cum the next time I eat you out?" His voice is dripping with the weight of his threat and normally, you would find yourself quickly pushing yourself back into submission, but not this time. This time he needed you.

You are very secured in the realization that whatever reason Jihoon wanted you in the studio for - it was certainly not to record. There is a dangerous pool of excitement rushing through the conduit of your veins. He swears he can hear the titillating smile that blossomed across your face while you play idly with the Swarovski rock resting along your sternum. A gift from Jihoon. One of many.

“I don't know, Jihoon... What're you going to do for me in return? It's only fair that I'm adequately compensated for leaving a session."

"I'll let you cum tonight, I've already told you."

Jihoon is sitting reclined on his leather couch, his narrowed eyes piercing the wide soundboard directly in front of him. An egregious amount's worth of equipment sitting idly and completely untouched while his notepad sits on his lap, teasing him with its blankness.

Before he made the uncharacteristic choice to call you, Jihoon had been scrolling idly through his phone, in search of some bit of inspiration. He found himself opening his photos app, scrolling through his pictures that were filled mostly of you. Selfies you took with your face pressed against his unimpressed one. Mirror selfies showcasing what outfit you decided to wear, per his request and something else. Something he had forgotten he even had saved in his camera roll until the video was already rolling. At first glance, the scene was borderline animalistic. Jihoon's pale hand pressed down your arched back, while a steady hand recordinb you from above.

"That's a good girl-" he heard his own voice resonate through the speakers. It was like he was forced to meet his alter ego. A completey uncomfortable and fucking meta experience, especially because he was in the quiet of his studio.

Jihoon looked around his quiet studio, sensing no other infiltrating presence before he let his gaze fall back down onto the video. A deep shade of read crawled up his neck as he watched himself fuck you absolutely stupid from behind. You were both caught in a throws of your pleasure and incoherent words were thrown out in stuttering intervals.

"Fuck-Hoonie, I'm so close-"

"You're gonna cum for me, baby? You gonna let daddy cum in that pretty fucking pussy? You gonna let me breed you-"

"F-Fuck, Daddy- I'm," Jihoon heard himself swear in the speakers, and the video went wobbly before it came to a cataclysmic end. It was taken a week ago, when you both sat down to watch a movie. Needless to say, no movie had been watched because you were abundantly touchy, and Woozi decided to let you be.

Even though the video came to an end, he could not peel his eyes away from the screen. He watched it one final time before he searched for your name in the call logs and dialed.

His mind was empty, but his capacity for lust was never-ending.

Now not only was he combatting brutal inspirational drought, but he was nursing a semi erect cock that made him so fucking uncomfortable.

He did not need this shit from you right now.

"Are you sure threatening me with an orgasm denial is the way you wanna go right now, Hoonie?" He hated the self-interested smirk in your voice.

“This is not the time to be a fucking brat,” he hisses, perhaps unintentionally on the line. “Just get here,”

But the teasing lilt has yet to disappear as you chide, “Not a particularly ethical way to address your one and only trusted engineer, is it?” You asked sweetly, voice dripping with the amount of honey it would take to fill a honey farm, “At least Wonwoo respects my work,”

He laughs humorlessly before rolling his eyes. “You talk a lot of shit for someone already making their way over here.” And unfortunately, you were. You had shot Wonwoo a very heartfelt apology during your sparring verbiage with Jihoon while still gathering your belongings to make a break for his studio. You became so unnaturally predictable in his presence, like a lonely mould of clay, glistening and ready to be shaped into anything of his choosing.

Right now, his biggest obstacle is the very vexing fact that once you made it into his studio, you drifted in with your nose stuck in the air and the expectation that he is to actually put in work. Woozi greets you at the door, eyes shamelessly taking you in from head to toe while you refuse to do the same. A pastel baby tee clings to your chest like a second skin while the ends of a small mini skirt combat the summer heat.

“It's freezing in here,” you remarked while Woozi ogled you unashamedly.

“Don't fuck with my thermostat,” he says dismissively before pulling you into an indulgent hug. “I like it cold,” and his arms travel under yours, pressing your softness flush against his front. His face buries itself in between your neck and shoulder, feeling his restless limbs finally be coaxed into some sense of satisfaction. His nose brushes against your cheek, essentially nuzzling himself against you in a vaguely primal gesture and he sighs.

“Fuck, you're so soft.” His hand rubs slow circles on your lower back. Circles that gradually increase in size. Woozi snickers quietly against your skin. Big mistake.

He definitely thought he was slick.

Before the palm of his hand could skim over the soft mound of your ass you break away quickly. Your smile is professional, almost vexingly robotic as you swing past him. Your braided ponytail swinging behind you as you make your way to bring a second leather chair beside his own at the soundboard.

“I'm here,” you said, “Time to work,”

Jihoon stands idly for a while. With his hands on his hips, his tongue stabs at the corner of his mouth, “You really are on a mission to piss me off today, aren't you?”

You ignore him, choosing instead to let your bewildered eyes fall on the empty notepad discarded on the soundboard. In your periphery, Jihoon rolls up the sleeves of his black button up, flexing his arms lightly as if he was battling demons not to pin you against that very soundboard.

Expensive equipment be damned.

“Let's get to work,” You huff, prompting Jihoon to run a frustrated hand through his mid length, black locks. Effectively making the wolfcut appear even more messy and unkempt.

You looked away, agitated, with your blood pressure shot to hell. This would be a very long session.

・✧・

And a very long session, it was.

Noon had faded to dusk and dusk had bled into starlight while you and Jihoon sat stagnant in the studio, surrounded by creative frustration and a different kind of frustration you refused to give the adequate amount of time to.

Woozi murmurs distractedly, peering down at the guitar sitting atop his lap. He toys with strings while you attempt to mix and master the wet bar on the computer screen, toying with the beat until you find something that stuck.

That is what you and Jihoon have resorted to during the course of this evening.

Your Gucci sneakers are kicked off underneath the desk and the bra you had initially walked in wearing, is now sitting discarded on Jihoon's couch. The both of you are accommodating to the stifling studio air. You find yourself grateful Woozi had kept the temperature cool as you were losing a dire war with under-boob sweat.

“Hit record,” he suddenly says, “I think I've got something,”

The tone that feeds from the guitar into the amplifier, is angelic, damn near perfect, but the look on his face once he pulls the final string is troubled. He quickly jots something down onto the notepad that had been filled considerably since this session began.

“You've got to be kidding me,” You say, releasing a wistful sigh as you peer at Jihoon sitting beside you. “That was fucking gold! Don't tell me you're not satisfied.” Jihoon is only able to shake his head before placing the guitar gently against the soundboard. “I know… but-”

“But?!” You're leaning over your seat, invading his bubble with your eyes blown to saucers.

“But…” He says teasingly before leaning closer to you, letting his eyes scan over your face as he slyly says, “I'd rather be fingering something else.”

His exposed forearms flex when he brings a hand up to toy with the Swarovski necklace that hangs from your collarbone. His voice is as smooth as the sap running steadily from tree bark in a fairytale forest. It's completely and utterly enchanting and you find yourself unable to pull back and sit back in your own seat.

“You look so pretty, you know that?” he whispers lowly, and you're fully convinced that he must know of the effect his voice has on you.

Fortunately for you, self control is something you take great pride in, and your voice is steady when you speak, but your torso is still leaning over onto his seat as you ask, “Jihoon, what is this?” You are completely spellbound when Woozi brings his fingers up to your chin. He examines your face like an art critic coasting the archaic halls of the most ancient museum. He knew exactly how to get you to melt and concede. “You know I had somewhere else to be,” you scold yourself for letting the words tumble out of your mouth in a desperate whisper.

He only snickers quietly, his eyes still roaming over your visage as he says, “You know his album isn't going to be better than mine.”

You find yourself completely mystified as Jihoon coaxes you over the barrier, until you're begrudgingly straddling him on his seat. Your breath falters as your skirt begins to ride high on your hips and Woozi's callused hands immediately hug the curves of your wide hips. He's staring up at you, and you're significantly elevated from your position on his lap. Height is completely on your side but you'd be stupid to discount the fact that he's in complete control here.

His hands rub dizzying circles on your thigh as he says, “Or don't you agree?”

“With what?”

“That my album will be better than Wonwoo's,” he states his petulance so casually it has you reeling. The blood coursing through your veins only has your mind doing somersaults trying to grapple onto your steadily declining sensibilities.

“Your album is not going to be much of anything if you keep bringing me here just to get your dick wet,”

“Oh! That's what I was doing?” He gasps in faux surprise before shaking his head, “I had no idea!”

You roll your eyes to the back of your head, although you're not quite sure if that's out of vexation or the wave of lust that hits you when Woozi brings your core down flush against his lap.

“Seriously Jihoon,” you say, unable to keep the gasp from rolling out of your mouth, “Did you bring me into the studio as your engineer or your whore?”

He nods his head playfully jutting his bottom lip out as if he's pondering something vastly philosophical.

“It can't be both?”

The whine you release from your throat is downright lascivious as Jihoon buries his face in between your neck and shoulder. This time, however, you're unable to break apart. His iron grip keeps you firmly pressed against his lap, guiding your hips back and forth. A sharp shiver wracks through your spine when Jihoon slips out the tip of his tongue to lick small innocent kitten licks at the skin underneath your ear. You're positively buzzing with untapped energy that he only seems pleased to continue to build upon. Until you are coming undone at the seams.

You're not even sure whether your hips are grinding down on his bulge out of your own accord or his hands gripping the skin of your thighs.

“Jihoon, we should be finishing the track-”

“We've done enough,” he says before reattaching his lips to your neck, this time sucking and kissing violently at your sensitive skin. You're grinding down further, eyes fluttering shut as your fingers weave into the roots of Woozi’s long hair. “What if someone walks in?” you whisper, although, now Woozi is starkly aware that your words are carrying the weight of your own fantasy, “I really think we should get back to work,”

“Fuck me, you smell so good,” He breathes out, pulling back to reveal a flush face. Woozi’s cheeks are ruddy and his wolfcut is in complete disarray under the oppression of your tight grip.

You're moving your hips much more hurriedly against his lap and he never stops you. In fact, Jihoon slyly pushes his hand up underneath your shirt, his palm immediately making direct contact with your pert nipples.

“F-Fuck, Woozi.”

“I know baby, I know,” he murmurs, rolling your nipple between his fingers as your wetness seeps out through your underwear, right onto his lap.

“Shit, baby. You're such a messy fucking girl….” He's absolutely fargone under the gaze of lust. Murmuring incoherence as he pushes his hips up to meet your swollen clit. “My little girl is so fucking messy-”

“Jihoon- I'm gonna cum-”

“No you're not,” he says, immediately stilling your movements, bringing your restless hips to a crashing halt.

“Jesus- what the fuck?!” You're absolutely livid. Your limbs tremble not only, under the weight of your anger but by the strength of the orgasm that was going to wash over you.

“Earlier,” Jihoon says, “You asked me to finish this track but I don't know if I'm in the right headspace to finish it.” Your brows furrow in confusion and your voice resounds throughout the studio as you ask, “What!?”

“I said,” Woozi's hand slyly moves from your thigh, up your torso until he's resting it on the top of your head, as if he were petting you, “I don't think I'm in the right head… space,” he removes the hair tie from your hair, letting the braids scatter down your shoulders.

You immediately catch his drift.

“I've lost so many hair ties around here,” You say, “I'm sure you have a collection somewhere,”

Jihoon's tone is nonchalant as he applies a certain pressure on your head, “Mantle on the east wall, top drawer on the right. I keep them all.” he says before pushing you down, off his lap, until you were kneeling in front of him.

“Now, I need to fuck that pretty little mouth of yours, Baby.” He whispers, letting his thumb sink inside your mouth while his other hand unbuttons his slacks.

He is only able to lower his slacks enough to uncover his gardener cock, red and aching before he's pushing your head down onto it. Your lips fall open around Jihoon's cock and he immediately throws his head back. Cursing wildly before fisting your hair in a deathly grip that has you whining around his cock.

“Fuck I love the pathetic noises you make. It's so fucking hot.” His chest rises and falls feverishly as he forces you to take even more of him into your hollowed out mouth. You clench your toes and fight to take him in, until the tip of his cock is hitting the back of your throat.

“Fuck!” He hisses, keeping his other hand locked in his own hair as if he's utterly in awe of the sight of you. “You're such a good slut, you know that?” His words of affirmation does a terrific job at motivating you to allow him to steadily fuck your throat. His hips rise and fall from the couch, hitting that spot at the back of your throat that has his cock twitching in warning of his load fast approaching.

You ready yourself to swallow every single bit but it never comes, and Jihoon is forcing your head off his cock. A string of saliva breaking from your lips to the tip of his glistening cock.

“Sit on my cock-” He's already pulling you back onto your lap as if you are nothing more than his plaything. .

“fuck- n-need to cum inside you.” He doesn't take your panties off, only pushing the material to the side before he's spearing you onto his dick with reckless abandon. The tempo that he immediately sets is animalistic and hurried and absolutely sloppy. You fight to catch up.

“Fuck-Jihoon-” Once you adjust to the stretch, you're trapped in a state of interminable lust.

“Move this,” he breathes out, roughly pushing your shirt over your chest, “Need to see your pretty fucking tits,” his hands immediately latch onto your breasts and the sensation of being so utterly consumed by him as you riding his dick faster and harder.

“Fuck, just like that, baby. Just like that, pretty girl.” His head rolls backwards and you shudder as you orgasm sneaks up on you like a thief in the night. Your walls close tightly around his dick and Jihoon's cock twitches inside you.

“Shit- you're fucking clenching around me, baby,” He says, bringing his head back to gaze lovingly up at you-

“Please cum for me Jihoon-”

He's nodding non stop as he fucks up into you before burying his face between your breasts. You never stop riding him, not even when he brokenly exclaims, “Fuck- oh shit- baby I'm cumming- I'm cumming inside you-” and he's spilling his seed before he is able to finish his incoherent string of a sentence. You shudder as he paints your inner walls with his cum holding you tightly and pressing you down on his stuttering hips as if terrified that you might move away.

You have no energy to tell him you wouldn't dare. Instead, you let him hug you tightly, his face pressed into your breasts as he emptied himself inside of you.

“Shit!” He hisses when his orgasm subsides and his load begins to leak out of your puffy, used cunt.

“Thank you for helping me, baby,” He whispers sweetly. The traces of the old Jihoon steadily return and your heart clenches in warm adoration.

“That was all you.” You whispered.

#woozi x reader #woozi x y/n #woozi x you #woozi smut #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #seventeen x y/n #seventeen smut #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #seventeen #svt fanfic #svt x reader #svt #svt smut #wonwoo x reader

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chrollohearttags · 6 months

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where the heart is • eren x black!fem reader

synopsis: the holidays had never been a great time for you or EJ but that quickly changes when you guys share your very first Christmas together.

content + themes: super sweet fluff, domestic au!,musician eren, him being so in love, mentions of alcohol, very light mentions of angst, lots of humor, all around cuteness ♡♡

word count: 1.3K

📝: just something super short and cute. Realizing I hadn’t written any Christmas fics yet but I might do more with all of my characters if y’all like them!

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰───────✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰────

christmas…the time of year filled with cheer, delight and all things bright. Trees topped with snow, front lawns illuminated in bright colors and inflatable decorations waving about in the cool winds. Not to mention, the overwhelming scents of peppermint, chocolate and apple cinnamon wafting through the air at every establishment. A true sign of the times..of course for others..it wasn’t always the best occasion. For some, it was a reminder of the loneliness that came with being away from family and loved ones. Spending the cold nights by themselves and watching others celebrate the harmonious holiday surrounded by warmth and happiness. For EJ, he happened to be the latter. Always holed up in a studio, chained to his desk as he worked right through Christmas Day without so much as a pause..it didn’t bother him much. He wasn’t exactly close to his family after leaving home years ago and his friends preferred to spend the evenings partying alongside strangers. Not something he had an interest in engaging in. Needless to say, he couldn’t wait for it all to be over. That was until the renowned rapper wound up meeting (y/n)…

“ ‘Rennieeeee! Come dance with me, baby!”

“Princess! Get down from there, you’re gonna hurt yourself!”

the ever so lovely and vivacious pole dancer turned influencer who not only took the world by storm but captured his ice cold heart as well. In a couple years’ time, the two of you had gone from perfect strangers to absolute lovebirds, enjoying domestic bliss in the comfort of his spacious three story home as soon-to-be husband and wife. Being in a relationship meant learning about the other person, becoming accustomed to their habits and all of their lovely quirks and in between. That stood true for Eren as well..it wasn’t until the two of you were out on your usual Sunday stroll through the Downtown District of Miami that he’d learn that you were a huge fan of Christmas. Although the warm temperatures didn’t mirror the occasion, shops and streets alike were strewn about garland and ornaments. Snowmen, reindeers, the works..! It was all a little suffocating for the stoic producer but you? You were beaming as bright as Rudolph’s nose! He couldn’t believe it. Seeing those gorgeous brown eyes glowing with excitement at all the decorations and themed treats, it made his chest flutter. Seeing you happy brought him more joy than any cheesy flare and overhyped song ever could. Since childhood, you have adorned the holidays; baking and cooking with your grandma, going to church and of course, opening presents. You loved every aspect and couldn’t wait to celebrate with your own family someday. However, your future husband was a little concerned that you may have been going a bit too far in your celebratory efforts…

“C’monnnn, pleaseeee? You look so cuteee!” Alluding to the reindeer headband sitting atop his brown locks.

“Yes, (y/n). I will dance with you, baby. But would you please get down from that ladder before you fall?!”

the two of you had been living together for some time now and he had grown quite accustomed to your habits. Waking up to warm kisses as he cradled you, getting to spend all this time together and lately..watching you frolic about the living room with knee high socks, shorts and fluffy red sweater with gingerbread men knitted on the front. Your butterfly locs were laced with red bows and scents of sugar cookie body mist radiated from your skin. You had even managed to convince him to partake in the festivities by baking cookies and helping set up decorations. Something he would’ve never done on his own accord. But he’d listen to you recount your holidays growing up and knew that he’d have to help you recreate the magic. You guys would even make jokes about how you’d never experienced a ‘real’ Christmas because there was no snow in Florida. He was absolutely infatuated with you and how adorable you were. Eren had only retreated to the foyer for a moment to grab some more ornaments and such, only to find you dancing atop the ladder; twerking and whining to the music that played and even belting Mariah Carey to the top of your lungs in an off key. He was trying to feign his laughter and keep a watchful eye on you all the same. He knew you were trained to dance and twirl at these outrageous heights but the fact that he had just watched you down four glasses of spiked eggnog consecutively with no pause, had him a little concerned. Knocking them back and becoming quite lively.

“I’m fineee! Now can you hand me those angels, please? I want them up—“

but as you made your way down the rungs and to the floor with only a couple steps left, you’d come tumbling down in a drunken haze and right on top of your fiancé! Who could do nothing but laugh as you immediately ‘sobered’ up upon the sight of seeing him lying flat on his back, covered in glitter. “Oh my gosh! Baby, are you okay?! I’m so sorry—“ cupping those fingers decorated in sparkly red acrylic tips over your mouth as you examined him. Making certain that he was alright but honestly? He had never felt better and in fact..you were utterly confused as to why he was so hysterical. His cheeks were red and he was cradling his stomach as he cackled.

“Yeah. I’m fine, princess..never been better. I’m just really happy.” Which allowed you to breathe a sigh of relief. For the first time in a long time, Eren had felt joy like he had never experienced before. All those years of spending Christmas Eve throwing money on dancers, pretending to enjoy drowning his sorrows in liquor or even mashing away at keys to avoid taking a trip back home to confront his family, none of it seemed to matter at that moment. The realization had hit him that this was his future…he was going to get to spend every day, every year having these beautiful moments and exciting times next to the love of his life. Leaning up, he’d grab your face and place a kiss on top of your forehead. He’d take a moment to examine your gorgeous features and just take in your presence. “Aww! I’m so glad..but why? You just fell.” A little confused by his sudden confession. He found your almost innocuous nature to be the sweetest thing in the world.

“Because..I have you, don’t I? Knowing I get to do this for the rest of my life..I can’t help but to smile..” Out of all the jewels and handbags you had been gifted, this was by far the greatest. Quality time and unconditional love that was priceless beyond comprehension. Moments that couldn’t be bought with the largest of riches, and the two of you were forever grateful for it. “I love you, princess. I really do..” which unironically sent you into a fit of tears and he’d immediately try to console you. “What’s wrong?!” Nearly bursting into overwhelming hysterics. Attributing it to your drunken stupor. But soon, you’d drape your arms around his neck and fling yourself across him with a tight embrace. “I’m sorry—I just—love you too, baby! I love you so much!..you’ve made me so happy.” You honestly never thought you’d have another Christmas like this or truly feel this type of love again but he made it possible. It didn’t matter how far you guys traveled or where your busy lives took you..right here, home and in each other’s arms..

“..thank you for tonight. I’m having so much fun.”

was where his heart heart was!

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absolutebl · 7 months

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Pit Babe - it's time for a Trash Watch!

I had to. Well, no I didn't, but COME ON. It's like Thailand is negging me. Let's burn rubber, shall we? Burn rubbers...?

The things I had been told going in about this show:

it's about car racing (this bores me)

it stars Pavel (my BL ult bias, he is my icon for a reason)

it started as an omegaverse y-novel but the A/B/O aspects would be stripped from the BL series

it's high heat

(There some chatter about whether point 3 was a mistranslation of something the author said, but don't bother me with trifles.)

Here's a definition of omegaverse:

Omegaverse, also known as A/B/O (alpha/beta/omega), is a subgenre of speculative erotic fiction, and originally a subgenre of erotic slash fan fiction. Its premise is that a dominance hierarchy exists in humans, which are divided into dominant "alphas", neutral "betas", and submissive "omegas".[1] This hierarchy determines how people interact with one another in romantic, erotic and sexual contexts.[2] (Wikipedia)

In my experience and opinion, omegaverse archetypes and tropes are often used to strip out female characters (and The Feminine) and as a tool to excuse extreme hyper-masculine behaviors without a critical feminist lens (leading to lazy characterization). Just as heat is an excuse to get nkd quickly, A/O/B is often an excuse for taboo and dubious consent actions and behaviors. Do I get why writers/readers enjoy it? Yes I do. Do I personally like it? Not particularly. (Although there are always exceptions.)

Putting all that aside, the above represents my foundational knowledge before Pit Babe started.

Oh and that the familiar BL faces appearing in this show were follows:

Pavel Naret (aka Pavel Phoom) from 2 Moons 2 & Coffee Melody - Pavel is a fluent English speaker, a bit of a drama monger, and a motorcycle rider/car-dude, this role suits him

Nut Supanut from Oxygen & Something in My Room - has an amazing voice, his somewhat wooden acting has improved steadily since Oxygen

Pon Thanapon - one of Star Hunter's stable first seen in the Gen Y series (where he stole the appeal of an intended pair), also v good in Make a Wish, I wish he'd get a lead role as he has a likable screen presence

Pop Pataraphol from La Cuisine - he's playing the Alpha rival and I'm not convinced he's suited to this role

Michael Kiettisak from Love Sick, Oxygen, Call it What You Want, Till the World Ends - playing the comic relief this time rather than his usual tortured stoic... huh

All the rest are either fresh faces or older experienced actors. Interesting mix. They must have some money behind this.

And now, get out your marshmallows! The dumpster is on fire! Let's start the roast.

Episode 1 - Platypus, Pickles, Pavel, & other Smoking Hot Problems

This first segment told with a 4 day retrospect, because I decided to do a trash watch only after @aliceisathome said I should.

My initial reaction:

the sheer audacity of Thailand being like "PitBabe is not omegaverse" and then serving "Alpha" to us on a platter in the first sex scene is

how dare

but also

what the actual fuck is going on? what world are we living in where a/b/o is LIVE ACTION ON OUR SCREENS?

we getting heat, knotting & mpreg next?

apparently this is my reality now

I'm not sure what weird quantum time stream I've jumped into but someone was all,

yes the whole world is hella screwed, but also...

Thailand has decided live action mm fanfic is gonna win it the culture wars

and I'm beginning to think they may be right

BL is now the platypus of the film industry

4 days later:

Considering how much chatter this caused there's a part of me that wondered if it was all intentional and a marketing ploy (to say it wasn't omegaverse when obviously it is). In which case... brilliant Machiavellian tactics, production.

But Thai studios are rarely this calculated in their promo. So I think it's all accidental. But it certainly caused a raucous few days on Tumblr.

On a completely different note, Babe's house looks like it started life as a particularly inventive Olive Garden. Or is that just me?

More random thoughts:

Pavel has had work done, why honey? You were the definition of perfect.

The smell thing is great, I love stuff to do with scent and necks. If omegaverse brings this to the table, fine. But...

Being all Alpha perfect butch manly man = I do not like Babe at all, I kinda want him to be brought down a peg. (Woo... pegging!) I never like narratives that glorify the captain of the football team (side eyes Cdrama CEO romances and Love O2O), Babe better have depth and damage (forget the pegging) of some kind or his behavior will get old FAST, faster than he drives (also, forget the pegging idea)

Nut is ideal in the Beta role. I mean, that's Way's character right? We all can see that. If it's not intentional, it's a miscast. I love how soft he is as as screen presence. He's great in this part.

None of the other characters are sticking out to me yet, but I'm prepared to love the side dishes in this, please make them swoon worthy!

I'm glad they didn't hold the Charlie = trickster reveal off, I like knowing he is a double agent up front.

Finally, with respect to an adequate trash watch, I'm in a pickle.

How am I going to drink for this show when there is so much else airing on Frigay? I can't keep track, if I'm drunk.

I need a strategy for this trash fire if the puns and snark are to spout forth! (HA Fourth!)

Controlled burn?

Anygay, see you all next week.

Episode 2 - Side Dish Addiction + Second Lead Syndrome are both infecting me at once

[FYI I gotta have my backup computer to watch this so that's why Imma sometimes be delayed getting the trash out to the curb.]

3 minutes! 3 minutes in and I needed to pause and wax snarkful. (Ouch, bet that hurts. Is waxing snark similar to a Brazilian but for BL? Is that why they all so hairless in The Sign?... I digress, where was I?)

Okay so the subber said Daddy but I don't think that word means what they think it means. Because Way said simply nong paa.

Usually they'll use the English word Daddy (pronounced Dah-deee) for, ya know, Actual Daddies (tm).

Wait wait:

Calling Daddy Actual

(My dumb sci-fi loving arse will see myself out the back before I start drawing Battlestar Galactica = Pit Babe connections. TOO FAR ABL. Too far.)

Look, I like the tension in this show. It's good to set up an unlikeable Alpha dog and then immediately turn him into an underdog, makes him a bit more likable. I still don't like Babe, but now at least I'm on his side.

Charlie = cute but v sus. Fortunately for him, Babe = cute but v thick.

Everyone calls Charlie Babe's dek. Yes sounds a bit like what you think but also means kid/child and SHOULD be translated as boy in this show. Why doesn't the subber get that? They a sub...ber after all. (I'll see myself out.)

Honestly, the script writers might know what they are doing with abo but our eng sub translator sadly does NOT. I'm so glad this is coming now in my BL watching life. When my ear and knowledge of Thai is so much better than it once was. Others much be SO CONFUSED.

Snicker. They just fucking with us, but it's fun to watch the mpeg speculation abound.

File this one under: Thailand's trouble with ESL plurals and also "you should have Pavel helping with these subs" sweethearts.

Production knows entirely what it's doing with this show and its omegaverse shizz (even if the subber doesn't) and I am very much enjoying the online carnage that results.

This dumpster fire continues off screen into the blogosphere and I continue to roast things over it.

Meanwhile, hi Pon! You so adorable! When you gonna lead out a BL for us?

Is Idol Factory stealing all of Star Hunter's talent? Are they the Red Racers of the BL world? These are the questions I ask myself as I watch this.

Is that AGE GAP I smell before me?

Is the 20 yr old college kid meant for the pit boss? Cause you all know I am a slut for age gaps.

Moment of a/b/o: Jeff's fear of touch/heightened personal space would be a plot marker for "baby doesn't want Alphas close cause he smells like an omega" but of course this show it not omegaverse. Not omegaverse at all.

nuh-uh

Linguistic corner!

Lung (sounds a bit like loo) is uncle(ish) it means basically a male relation older than phi. So Alan is the oldest in the crew.

Alan calls Jeff nu (which the subber translated as boy I would have gone with cutie or little one). Nu is a diminutive affectionate term that's technically gender neutral but is most often used by/on cute girls/women. Jeff did NOT like it. Then Alan sort of dodges through pronouns/particles settling on phi for I, ger for you, and ja for a particle. This is interesting because ger & ja kinda lower his age and status into a casual sphere. Not more intimate more equal to jeff... fascinating.

I love the new "Korean" red racer, he drinks my brand of soy milk. He is now my baby snake in the grass.

Get it? Snake.

He and Babe should end up together.

The fight wasn't bad, do both actors have kickbox training in their backgrounds?

Who am I kidding, I care only about Uncle Alan and Nu Jeff now. All others are irrelevant to me.

Also...

WHERE IS A BOY FOR WAY?!!! Or a Daddy. I do not care. (Methinks nether does he.)

I am now captain of the Way Appreciation Society. Let's all find a way... to get him some dick.

Also the BTS stingers are tons of fun. Looks like the set was a blast.

Finally, and I mean this kindly. Why isn't Noh Phouluang in this? He should have been cast as Winner. Bah. I'm biased.

But one should be with Noh.

Episode 3 - Side Dishes Delux

Gayest bridge n Thailand has made its obligatory appearance.

How much do I love uncle & nu? They are SO damn cute. Also nu flustered is the best kind of nu.

I could not care less about Babe and Charlie. Except I do love the smell thing.

Way will break my heart by getting his broken. He is right tho.

Tra la la. I feel like this is a bit like KP 2.0.

Charlie is a such a princess (and ace manipulator). Good thing Babe clearly likes being buttered up.

Babe's backstory was more interesting than I expected, I didn't think we would go so far into the paranormal side of a/b/o. I like it and I hope they lean into it quite a bit more. Make it part of the plot.

Unlike the kissing thing which seems to have been gotten over rather quickly.

I gotta say I'm enjoying the corporate sponsorship jockeying and tension more than I thought I would. I'm curious as to who Jef and Charlie are working for and what their motivation is. The plot itself is keeping me intrigued and that is rare for me with BL.

So no trash talk this ep, I was largely absorbed and entertained. I didn't event need booze. Shocking behavior on my part.

#giveWayaboy2023

Episode 4 - I (who never ship) am shipping the impossible

Here’s the thing. I just want this to be a better story than it is. Right now it’s kind of like a soap opera. I don’t hate lakorn, I really don't. To Sir With Love is a glorious chewing of the diamanté scenery (completed with death glitter). But...

If this is gonna be a soap opera it needs to lean into the messy side more than the tailored high concept side. Support characters and evil needs more screen time.

Instead, right now, I don’t know where I am with this show because it doesn't know where it wants to be. I’m kind of dangling in the middle of a dirty situation. It’s uncomfortable for me, and the show feels uncomfortable for the performers.

Also... I have questions.

Yes, of course I want to know what Charlie & Jeff are up to. Why can Jeff see the future?

But more importantly I NEED to know why Babe has a flying saucer bed?

That kind of lighting makes nobody look good, especially not at that angle. It’s very traumatic and I’m not wild about the shag rug either. I have concerns about Babe's taste. I guess is what I am saying.

On a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT note:

There’s absolutely no chemistry to justify this, but I have decided that I am going to personally advocate for, and ship, Way and the interloping not-really-Korean. They are both sort of own-moral-code types. I have tiny crush on Kim, and Nut is the prettiest, and Way is Best Boy so there it is, I would like them to hook up, please & thank you.

#giveWay2Kim2023

Arrow guy is cute, too. Will we get to see him bone?

Is he going to be another one of the adopted alpha super-kid pets?

What the hell, throw Arrow Boy a bone! All hot boys in BLs deserve bones.

Plot thickens.

Hah.

Thickens.

(I am an immature idiot.)

Episode 5 - wait wait way-t, can arrow boy have Way?

Look, BLabies, I didn’t get any screen caps this episode because frankly there wasn’t anything worth capturing.

I guess Charlie really does love Babe? Very dramatic if idiotic saving from the burning car. But Babe has gone to the broken Alpha place of extremely unlikeablability (frankly he was almost there at the start). If I were Charles B Spectacled I would be OUT by now.

Is that?

NO.

Don't get the plastic bowl.

No white towel sponge bath. Please kill this trope.

I mean, it's not as bad as singing, but that's because NOTHING is as bad as singing in a Thai BL.

AND the main boys are back together.

I don’t find their relationship or Babe’s lack of senses a particularly interesting aspect of the plot.

Unless, of course, Babe is pregnant and that's why he lost his Alpha sniffer.

BUT I do love the sides.

Jeff = the introvert precog who can’t/wont do people and Alan = the extrovert people person who WANTS but doesn’t understand him.

Were Jeff and Charlie ALSO raised by Evil Daddy MacEvilPants?

I liked the way Arrow CEO & Way looked at each other. Way, hon, give up on Babe (he sucks) and get thyself a billionaire bf with great aim and BDE.

On a completely different note, the best thing about this show is the blooper reel. That thing with the green smoothie going down his pants was hilarious!

In conclusion, this was a green smoothie down the pants episode. I was entertained, and it’s probably gonna be good for the plot in retrospect, but it was kind of squishy and unpleasant at the time.

Episode 6 - Are they actually listening to us now? Is Tumblr bugged?

This was a fun ep full of like actual racing and shizz.

Whatever.

Charlie is on the team now. All the teams, apparently.

Can we talk about Jeff and Alan?

The apology scene! Did you hear that Alan dropped to chan/ger? Eeeee!!! So cute. (He equalized their relationship in a soft way.)

Get it with that language play hottie. Next up: lengua play.

Please & thank you.

Meanwhile, as all of the Internet knows, they went fully in for omegaverse - no bars.

I have to say, one of the greatest typos (or whatever) in existence is enigma instead of omega.

That's where I personally would rank in the omegaverse.

Hello, my gender is... enigma.

Apparently it's a/b/o and sometimes e! Also sometimes switch-ee

Oh I'm very proud of myself with that one.

Funfunfun

Charlie. Babes. When a man asks to be thrown up against the wall. You throw him against that wall.

OMG is that arrow boy looking at Way in the bar?

3 seconds later.

Noooo.

Wait come back.

Noooooo.

That’s what I actually want to watch!

OMG. Who said nu was the first step to teelak?

I flipping love Alan.

Ah the boyfriend ep. Thank you, but I still don't trust Charlie.

Poor Way.

But nice crying jag, and I don’t say that often in Thai BL.

Now let him go, Way.

A boy with his arrows is waiting.

(source)

Note for the future: tumblr has a bug that stops allowing edits after a certain time/number, thus my full trash often occur in 2 segments as a result. Click on the "abl trash watches bl" tag for the full thing if you're reading this and later episodes are missing.

#pit babe the series #pit babe #thai bl #abl trash watches bl #Pavel Naret Promphaopun #pavel phoom #trash watch #2023 bl #currently airing bl #watch along #Nut Supanut #Pon Thanapon #พิษเบ๊บ

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