#i did this just for me tbfh | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cultpastorkevin · 5 months

Text

Cult Tips for AFTG writers

notes from the resident ex-cult pastor

If you’re in the cult, there is nothing bizarre abt what’s happening and in fact the normal stuff that happens outside of it is what’s bizarre to you. Target? Weird. McDonald’s? Even weirder. I can like guarantee Jean and Kevin never had McDonald’s until they left the Nest.

When you leave, you’re gonna be paranoid as fuck. All the time. Ngl at least for weeks but sometimes for years. Nightmares and insomnia 24/7. Hallucinations too lmao Riko is in every corner of empty rooms and you can hear his voice echo in the confines of the lockers.

I see a lot of Jean wanting to go back to the Nest, but not a lot of Kevin wanting to go back. He definitely struggled, 100%. In fact when he was in the pits of agony from his broken hand, was when he probably wanted to go back the most. Cult is home, cult is safe. Four walls you’ve always known and while it’s a cage at least it’s dependable. They hurt you but by god it always works out and the reward of pushing through this tragic incident is greater than the terror it caused in the first place. It’s a gift, actually. A gift from Riko. He saved Kevin. Cults save you. Cults make you wanna return to them like damn homing pigeons bruh. Give me more shattered hand Kevin screaming at Wymack to let him go back home and having a breakdown when he’s denied fics thanks

Piggybacking off the last one: cults are saviors; you’re nothing without them and they make sure you truly believe that; that everything that is done to you is for you and you’re blessed for it to be happening. You’re lucky even, to be allowed in it. Everything is as it’s supposed to be and order must never be challenged, because it works, and you’re the Edgar Allan Ravens, and this is the most honorable place you could be. All the pain you go through is you earning the right to be saved and to prove your worth every day on court. Only the worthy are honored.

You justify everything that happened and you will start fights and get angry with people who try to correct you and tell you it was wrong what went on.

On the other hand, you blame yourself for everything ever that happened there whether you were at fault or not. Hurting others, hurting yourself, gaslighting the fuck out of yourself over things maybe you could’ve prevented and over things you never could’ve stopped. The guilt is crippling and it eats you alive and haunts you.

There’s a lot of shame too. I see more guilt written than shame but shame is a huge portion of emotions that cult survivors have. Shits embarassing dude like “god how did I end up thinking this wack ass shit was normal” 😐 Shame comes later in the healing process usually, it’s after you have come to terms with shit that’s happened and you understand it. Looking back, you go “Jesus fucking Christ that was a red flag what the hell. Should’ve left then, or then, or then, or then” and then you’re just plain fuckin embarrassed.

Please look up how hive minds and brainwashing are created and work; also Stockholm Syndrome; understanding these would be incredibly helpful tbfh.

Diets are big; everyone eats the same thing; food is used as a reward and a punishment.

Hype hype hype. They whip up a frenzy of one singular emotion and use that to push you into a blind hysteria because you’re more suspectible to their influence when you’re out of your mind.

Drugs. Depends on the cult. But yeah these little bitches can be a huge factor for shit and can help with the brainwashing and hysteria and stockholm. Sometimes you don’t even know you’re being drugged or poisoned until you leave.

OH I ALMOST FORGOT. Dehumanization and then being treated like a person again can be traumatic as fuck yall!! Holy shit! Sometimes it feels worse than being dehumanized!

EDIT AGAIN: you don’t know what mental illness is !! Cults don’t fucking tell you these things lmao. if you show symptoms it’s your fault. Kevin being depressed his mom died was gonna get blamed on him and he was never going to be told grief is normal and it’s okay to be insanely sad. Jean also never got told his anger was correct or his trauma responses to being raped were realistic! They just got blamed for any reactions ever that weren’t neurotypical !! that is all; do with that what you will.

Idk if I think of anything else I’ll write another one but that’s all for now; I haven’t slept much lmao 🫡

#aftg #all for the game #edgar allan ravens #jean moreau #kevin day #riko moriyama #riko was a cult victim too yall #smh keep seeing people forget this #tetsuji moriyama #cult stuff #psycho analysis of aftg #kinda #it’s close enough #castle evermore #aftg fanfic #cultpastorkevin

531 notes · View notes

baby-yongbok · 8 months

Note

OK I saw an anon asking for another hyunjin fic bc of the vmas (tbfh same) and have an idea for another vmas hyunjin fic (if you’re up for it) hear me out:

apparently people were freaking out the other day bc there was this video going around of Sabrina carpenter waving at hyunjin when it turned OUT she was actually waving to Dixie damelio bc they’re friends…what if y/n saw that and thought she was waving at hyunjin too and got super jealous? I know I would even though I love Sabrina lol. so she starts giving hyunjin the cold shoulder and answering in one word responses etc and he’s confused so she says something like “why don’t you ask your new girlfriend” and he thinks it’s cute that she’s jealous and reveals Sabrina was waving to Dixie not him. And even if she did wave to him, he’s 10000% in love with you and absolutely does not want anyone else. Then after their performance and skz is backstage he pulls you into a closet/private room, locks the door and proves to you just how much he wants/worships you and no one else, in his sweaty state 😫 something like that? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about vmas hyunjin either and who can blame me

ps I’ve written to you before and idk if you take emojis for anons but if so can I be 🪽 anon? I love your writing sm and I know I’ll be back! I wanna be friends but I’m a lil shy lol… 🙂

I DID IT. IM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT, DON'T HATE ME. 😭 Here you go, my love ❣️🪽

Let Me Show You

Hyunjin × Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 3,442

Warnings: Semi-public sex?, Cum tasting (That should be it ❣️)

✨️Masterlist✨️ ✨️My First VMA Fic✨️

Surely you were seeing things right? You had to be seeing things. Maybe it was the stage lights or the adrenaline from the boys' win getting to you but you swear that the very beautiful and very talented Sabrina Carpenter just tried to shoot her shot at your equally as beautiful and talented boyfriend. Maybe it was harmless, Sabrina is a K-pop fan so maybe she was just trying to grab his attention and give him a friendly thumbs up or something.

You check your phone while you make your way backstage to meet the boys, of course they’re trending on every app that you have but a particular twitter post catches your eye. You stop in the middle of the very busy backstage hallway as you read the video caption for the third time, ‘Are Sabrina Carpenter and Hyunjin flirting?!’. You click on the video quickly, bringing the phone closer to your face as if you could zoom in on the interaction. It’s right there, it’s in very poor quality but it’s there nonetheless. Hyunjin definitely gave Sabrina a look and according to the video he did it more than once. You can feel your stomach turn as an emotion runs over you but you can’t figure out if it’s anger or jealousy, maybe it’s both? You take a deep breath and start walking again, you stuff your phone into your purse and shake your head a bit to try and get your thoughts together. This is a big night for the boys and you don’t want to ruin it for them by having an attitude but you also don’t know how to deal with this cocktail of emotion bubbling in your veins.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Baby, can you help me put this on?” Hyunjin holds his necklace out in your direction and you take it from him quietly. He furrows his brows a bit before turning around and allowing you to put the jewelry on him. He noticed your shift in attitude since they got their award but he thought that maybe you were just overwhelmed. He watched you as they got ready for their stage, you laughed with everyone and were talking to staff casually but when it came to him you were silent and short spoken. He instantly started replaying the last hour or so in his head. What could he have done to upset you?

“Thank you.” He turns to you and leans in to kiss your cheek but you pull back slightly, looking in the opposite direction. “Angel, is everything alright?”

“Yup.” Your eyes look everywhere but at him, even when he moves to your side to sit next to you.

“Are you sure? You’ve been quiet, did I do something to upset you?” He places his hand on your knee and you promptly cross your legs to get him to move his hand. You shrug your shoulders in response. Your gaze falls on Felix as he takes pictures of everyone in their finished looks. “Baby, come on.”

“Don’t you have someone else to talk to?” You huff, an over exaggerated sigh following your statement.

“Hm? What do you mean?” Hyunjins brows knit together as he racks his brain trying to understand what you’re referring to.

“Why don’t you ask Sabrina? You seem pretty interested in her.” You roll your eyes and Hyunjin raises his eyebrows at your sharp remark. Felix had shown him a couple of the trending tweets along with the video of Sabrina waving in his direction, they laughed about it and Hyunjin told the guys that she definitely wasn’t waving at him and if she was he didn’t even notice her.

“Ah, you saw that video?” You shift in your seat scoffing at his question. A small smile pulls at his lips as he watches you, you don’t get jealous often but gosh was it hot. Something about you giving him the cold shoulder turned Hyunjin on, maybe it was the way you rolled your eyes at him and how sassy you were everytime he tried to touch you. Whatever it was, he was enjoying it.

“Everyone saw the video, so yeah.” You bite back, glancing at him for only a second before looking back over towards the rest of the boys.

“Baby, she wasn’t waving at me and even if she was I didn’t notice her. I was looking at the Stays that were seated in that direction.” Your heart starts to hammer in your chest as his words sink in. You can feel a blush spreading over your cheeks and a tinge of embarrassment in your core. He had pointed out the row of Stays in that direction earlier in the night but in the heat of the moment you completely forgot about it.

“Why would I look at her when I have the most stunning woman in the world here with me tonight, hm?” He snakes his arm over your shoulder and pulls you into a side hug. “Is my jealous girl blushing?”

You hide your face in his chest, trying to avoid his gaze. How embarrassing is this? Looks like you got jealous for nothing.

“Look at me, angel.” Hyunjin tries his best to gently pry you away from him but he’s interrupted by Chan calling everyone to get ready to go over to the stage. You look up, only because you know he has to go but his fingers catch your chin before you can look away again. Your shy gaze meets his and he smiles down at you, but it’s not a regular smile. It’s the type that he uses when he’s up to something. He plants a quick kiss on your lips before standing and holding his hand out to you.

“Come, you can watch on the backstage monitor.” You take his hand reluctantly, an apologetic smile on your face. He shakes his head, chuckling a bit.

“My possessive baby.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The boys absolutely killed their set but that was to be expected. You heard loud clapping and cheering as they made their way from the stage, a mixture of praises both towards the boys and the dancers. You join the busy crowd, clapping and looking through the sea of people for Hyunjin. Suddenly, you feel large hands on your waist and you turn around to see your boyfriend looking down at you with a grin. He’s sweaty and his breathing still hasn’t calmed down completely, He’s discarded the vest that he had on during the performance leaving him in only his black tank top. You open your mouth to congratulate him but he puts a finger over his lips, hushing you before taking your hand and pulling you with him. He makes his way in the opposite direction of the boys, towards the quieter part of the venue. You recognize the hallway from when the boys took pictures earlier, Hyunjin leads you into a small cut off hallway where some extra supplies seem to be stored. He closes the door behind you, placing a piece of paper over the latch so that you two don’t get locked in. He turns to you and you look up at him with confusion woven in your features.

“What are we doing here?” You look around thinking that maybe you missed something.

“You know that you mean the world to me, right?” Your heart starts hammering in your chest again, your grip on your clutch purse growing tighter as embarrassment washes over you again.

“I know, I’m sorry I should’ve asked you instead of drawing conclusions.”

“Don’t apologize, you were being protective of what’s yours.” Hyunjin takes a couple of steps towards you, one hand sliding into the pocket of his brown designer pants.

“You know that I’m yours, right?” Your mouth goes dry when you take in his deepened tone, what exactly did he bring you here to do? You press your thighs together, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. Your black form fitting dress rides up a bit from movement. “Answer me, angel.”

“Yes, I know you’re mine.” You clear your throat, trying not to show how much his words are affecting you.

“I only want you, you’re the only woman I ever think about, the only woman I ever look at.” He steps closer, reaching up to cup your cheek. You close your eyes and lean into his hand. His fingers brush against your lips. “Do you believe me?”

You shake your head, opening your eyes to meet his. He smiles at you before leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. You kiss him back, melting into him. Your arms find a home around his neck as he deepens the kiss, his tongue parts your lips, slipping into your mouth and stealing a taste of you. You moan into his mouth and he smiles against your lips. He pushes you back gently, prompting you to take a step back. He leads you backwards until your back hits the wall, you gasp, breaking the kiss and Hyunjin takes it as an opportunity to trail soft kisses over your jaw and down your neck.

“Hyunjin…we can’t do this here.” Your words are anything but convincing and you know for a fact that you don’t mean them. After the rush of jealousy that you felt earlier topped off with the breathtaking performance that he just put on with the boys’ you know that your body is more than ready for him.

“Let me show just how much I love you.” He plants a wet kiss right below your ear before whispering. “I want you to feel how much I want you, only you.”

Hyunjin presses himself against you and you moan at the feeling of his hard dick straining against his pants. “Only you do that to me.”

“Hyunjin.” His name leaves your lips in a breathy moan, you can’t think of anything else to possibly say. He’s completely fogged your mind.

He starts leaving sloppy open mouth kisses on your neck, rough yet slow actions of affection. His hands trace up your sides, lightly scratching at the fabric of your Versace cocktail dress, dragging the fabric up your soft skin and exposing your plush thighs.You trail your free hand down his arm, moving to palm him through his pants but one of his hands swiftly grabs your wrist, pinning your arm to the wall behind you.

“This is about you, baby. Only you.” He whispers against your skin before his lips make their way down to your chest, sucking and biting at your skin leaving red marks in his wake. His other hand grips at your waist, pulling you towards him and making you arch your back off of the wall.

“I’m all yours baby.” He slides down onto his knees. Sitting in front of you, his large hands trailing down the soft skin of your legs. He looks up at you, his sparkling eyes surrendering to you. “I would never worship another woman like this in my life.”

He leans forward, pressing soft kisses to the outside of your thigh and making his way to the sensitive skin leading to your core. You spread your legs a bit to give him better access and he groans at the gesture. His hands snake up under your dress, he hooks his thumbs into the thin straps of your thong and leads the garment down your legs. You step out of them, and Hyunjin wastes no time bringing them up to his nose and taking a deep inhale.

“Fuck, I love the smell of you.” His words are breathy yet stable, he stuffs your thong into his pocket, a treasure for him to remember this moment by. He peers up into your attentive yet fucked out gaze, watching you as he sneaks the pad of his pointer finger up to caress your soaked folds. You jump at the contact, a deep moan leaving your throat, you hadn’t realized how much you needed his touch until now. You relax as he runs his finger up and down your heat, circling your clit and teasing your entrance a bit. Your hips buck against his hand, silently begging him to stretch you. Small whimpers fall from your parted lips as you keep your eyes on his.

“You sound so beautiful, angel. You’re so fucking perfect.” He pushes his finger into you slowly, curling it upward to caress your g-spot. You bring your hand up to your mouth in an attempt to drown out your moans. Hyunjin shakes his head, fucking his finger into you a bit faster. “Let them hear you, I don’t care who it is, Let them hear what I do to you.”

“Hyun- Fuck” He adds another finger, scissoring them inside of you to stretch you out. “Oh my god, that's so good.”

“Only the best for you, this is only for you.” He leans up on his knees, sticking his tongue out and licking up the wetness dripping down your inner thigh. His tongue works its way over to your cunt, flicking your clit at a delicious pace that makes your back arch off of the wall further. He hums against you as you buck your hips, fucking yourself on his fingers and tongue. You feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body trembling as you beg him to keep going. He keeps up the pace, his tongue never stopping until you're finally pushed over the edge. You cry out in bliss as you cum hard, your body trembling with pleasure. He laps up every bit of your arousal that he can catch, leaving light kisses on your swollen clit as he allows you to come down from your high just a bit.

“You taste like heaven” Hyunjin groans as he pulls away from you, licking his lips to clean up the mess you made. Your mind is clouded with lust, the jealousy from earlier nearly forgotten. The only thing on your mind now is how badly you want the man in front of you. How badly you need him inside of you.

“I can feel like heaven for you too.”

“This is about you, angel.”

“Then fuck me, please. If this is about me then make me forget about that stupid tweet. You’d do anything to please me right?” Hyunjin, stands from his position in front of you. Your eyes stay locked on his dark ones as he towers over you.

“I’d do anything to please you.” His words are soft and strong, he leans into you, catching your lips in a sweet kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue as the kiss deepens, the gentle nature that Hyunjin held seconds ago melting away into a frenzied lust.

“You drive me insane.” He whispers against your lips and you moan into his mouth. Your hands run down his clothed chest, taking in his firm core and his shirt damp with sweat. You run your hand over his hard cock, palming and stroking him. A pornographic moan erupts from his throat, he breaks the kiss and his jaw hangs open in bliss. You look up at him, watching as he bites his lip with his eyes shut tight, concentrating on the way your fingers move against him.

“I want you to fuck me like she’s watching.” Hyunjin groans deeply, furrowing his brows at your words. “Show her that you’re taken.”

Your words flipped a switch in Hyunjins head, he grabs your hip, turning you around and swiftly pulling your dress up to expose your bare ass. He lands a firm smack on both of your ass cheeks, the sound echoing throughout the room.

“I’ll show her.” He presses his clothed bulge against you and you can feel him unbuttoning his pants with one hand. “I’ll show her who I belong to.”

He runs his hands over your bare skin, his touch gentle yet possessive. He leans in and whispers in your ear “I’ll let everyone know I’m yours.”

You gasp as you feel his cock part your dripping folds, stretching you out deliciously. He pushes in slowly, allowing you a bit of time to adjust to him. Your moans fill the air as he slides into you, once he bottoms out he leans forward, pressing you into the wall so that you’re flush against him.

“I’m yours” He moans as he starts to move, his hips pushing against yours in a rhythm that intensifies with each thrust. The sound of skin slapping echoes through the hallway but is easily drowned out by your shared moans. Your head falls back against Hyunjin’s chest giving him the perfect view of your fucked out expression. He leans down, leaving soft kisses on your forehead, a sweet contrast to the rough thrust of his hips.

“You’re mine.” Your words make Hyunjin’s hips stutter, pushing into you deeper, he bites his lip as he takes it all in. The way you’re clenching around him, your moans mixing with his, the way the head of his cock hits your sweet spot. It all drives him closer to the edge.

“You were right.” His thrusts become faster and harder and you squeeze around him as you draw closer to your release, meeting his rhythm with pleasure. “You do feel like heaven.”

His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hips as he comes undone, his moans mingle with yours as he fills you. The feeling of his hot release throws you over the edge, you fall apart seconds after him, his name falls from your lips like a chant as your pleasure washes over you. You both still, his dick stays deep inside of you as you both try to catch your breath.

“Thank you.” Hyunjin hums in response, soft pants falling from his lips.

“For what?”

“For showing me that you’re mine, this might’ve been the best type of reassurance ever.” You chuckle and he follows, a wide smile spreading across his face.

“I’m glad that you enjoyed yourself. But, please remember that I mean this, there’s never anyone on my mind but you. You’re all I think about.” His sweet words send a shiver down your spine and you can’t help but to clench around him.

“Oh fuck.” Hyunjin groans with a chuckle and you can’t help but to smile. “I need to pull out, I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself if you do that again.”

He slides out of you slowly, whines escape both of you from the sensitivity of the action. He tucks himself back into his pants and you turn around to face him, still leaning on the wall for support.

“How am I supposed to go back out there with your cum dripping out of me?” You look down at the mixed arousal running down your leg and Hyunjin smiles at you.

“Here.” You watch him as he kneels before you, dipping his tongue out and licking the stream of cum running down your leg. A groan falls from your lips as you watch him taste your mixed arousals. He trails his tongue up your leg, collecting all of the juices that drip from you until he reaches your swollen cunt. He runs his tongue over the sensitive flesh and you shiver in response, your head falling back against the wall and a moan escaping you.

“Baby, I’m so sensitive.” Hyunjin hums in response and the feeling of the sound vibrating through you makes you clench around nothing. He dips his tongue into your hole, lapping up most of your arousal and cleaning your cunt to perfection. Once he’s satisfied he pulls away and stands, wiping his chin clean and smiling at you. He gives you a moment to recover before taking your chin between his fingers and tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

“Next time that you get jealous just remember that you and I are made for each other. We’re perfect together.” You smile up at him and he leans forward kissing you with wet lips. He parts your lips with his tongue and gently runs his over yours. The taste of your mixed arousals flood your mouth and you relish the flavor. He breaks the kiss just as you move to deepen it, a slight whine falling from your lips. He grins down at you before running his thumb over your swollen bottom lip

“See? Don’t we taste good together? I only want you to mix with me, no one else, okay?” You nod your head, a sweet fucked out smile pulling at your lips. “I love you, angel”

“I love you too, baby.”

522 notes · View notes

hungharrington · 9 months

Note

The NEED to tease stevie with your boobs though 😩😭 like anything, anywhere. Not wearing a bra on a hot summer day so he’ll see your nipples when they pebble in the breeze, driving home and randomly taking your shirt off to distract him, wearing tiny tiny bikini tops to swim in his pool, acting concerned and asking him if one’s bigger than the other and tbfh he’s not even listening. Just driving that boy crazy with your tits 😌

hehe thank u for the ask nonnie!! i’m dubbing this… menace!reader…. bcos that’s what u are, u little minx <3 afab!reader, MDNI this entire blog is 18+ but also no smut in this one!

“Are you trying to kill me?”

You pretend to consider his question thoughtfully, humming as you drop your chin into your palm. The car rumbles beneath you. You’re sure your grin is nothing short of a cheshire grin.

“Don’t know what you mean, Stevie.”

Steve manages a glare between his glances at the road, out the windshield. It’s quiet out on the road, a stretch of burning hot asphalt stretching out before you. Hawkins Pool is entirely too crowded today. Naturally, you and Steve have decided on heading further out to cool off beneath the climbing spring-time temperatures.

It also means you’re wearing barely anything to combat the heat.

“Shut up,” Steve scoffs. He takes his eyes off the road to look you up and down again. His eyes get stuck on your chest, staring at you tight tank-top that does little to cover the cherry red bikini beneath it. It looks like it pains him to drag his eyes back to the road.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

His hand reaches out, fingers curling around your thigh. He gives it a quick squeeze, chiding and eager all at once.

“Mmm,” You hum again, covering his hand with your own. You give it a little pat and then lean over to wind the window down, twisting the handle once, twice.

Wind rushes in, still cooler than the inside of the car which had been slowing heating sitting in Steve’s driveway all morning. The chill coats your skin, a flush of cool air sending a shiver over your body— you feel your nipples pebble in response.

It’s comical, watching Steve’s hair muss up as his gaze flicks rapidly between the road and the passenger seat. He sputters.

“That’s not— you are-” He cuts himself off with a throaty growl, eyes fixed on the road as he shifts across the car. His large hand moves from your thighs to clutches the knob and you watch as his bicep bulges gloriously, pumping the window handle to close it.

It closes much faster at his hand, closing with a hiss, than it did opening at yours. Muscles and all. You drool a little.

“—Unbelievable. You are unbelievable.” He finishes. The heat of his words is lost when he glances down at your tits once again. There’s this adorable pink in the apples of his cheeks.

Something in you gleans at how easy he is to rile up. You smile.

“Fine, no window.” You concede.

You slip your arm under the seatbelt and get a good grip on the fabric bunched around your waist. Steve manages a quiet What are you—? before it dissolves into an Oh my god as you pull the shirt off. It’s thin enough that it barely makes a difference in the heat but you make a show of it anyways.

“Whew,” You slip back beneath your seatbelt and fan yourself dramatically. “That’s much better.”

Steve’s hand on your thigh tightens. You hear how hard his head smack back against the headrest, even if it is smothered by his loud groan. You can’t tell if it’s in complaint or appreciation. Probably both.

“You can’t wait?” He whines, his fingers squeezing your flesh a little. “We’re like, 5 miles out. I can deal with you then, I promise.”

He steals a glimpse your way and can’t resist another look down at your chest. Keeping most of his focus on driving straight, a bit of it slips away as his hand moves to fiddle with the string of your bikini.

“This is a nice one.” He says, far too nice for how much you’ve been teasing him. Too bad you’re not feeling merciful.

“Thanks baby,” you murmur slyly. Your hand creeps up and dusts over his, heading for the knot at the back of your neck. It only takes one well targeted tug for the knot to release the strings and at the same time, the car swerves an inch, and Steve’s hand jumps up to grab them. It’s a miracle — or maybe he’s a well coordinated jock — but he manages to wrangle both of them and the car. A giggle pushes past your lips.

“Oh my God, I never thought I’d say this,” Steve says, releasing the strings to grasp both hands on the steering wheel very tightly. The bikini falls. Steve looks like he might be in pain, glancing out the drivers side window, his bottom lip trapped in his teeth. “But please put your boobs away.”

You giggle again, even as you gather the straps and re-tie it, not too keen on being exposed as it is. Regardless, it seems entirely worth it for Steve’s flushed face and his shifting hips. His swimming trunks hide… nothing. Finally, only when you’re shucked your shirt back on, tugging it down to cover your tummy, does Steve glance back at you.

His glorious pink face hadn’t faded but he has this grin that promises all sort of trouble, mixing with his fondness for you. “Y’know, I think you really are tryna kill me.”

“Death by boobs?”

“Hey,” Steve grins. “There are worse ways to go.”

#jay writes #steve harrington x reader #steve x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #do we likeeeeee?#wrote it in like an hour so! we’ll see!#it’s finally getting warm where i live hallelujah

898 notes · View notes

goldustwomun · 10 months

Text

will we talk? (j.p.)

pairing: bodyguard! james potter x baker! reader

summary: it was only meant to be a one night stand-- a pretty fucking amazing one night stand, but one night nevertheless. so when your dad informs you of a bounty on your head and beloved bakery, you expect just about anyone in the world but james to show up as your newly appointed bodyguard. he doesn’t even fit in with the decor!

warnings: allusions to sex (minors dni!!!), swearing, mentions of a sketchy job (drugs, arms, trafficking etc. u kno the drill w/ obscure mafia stuff), very very hot james xoxo

wc: 2.9k+

note: guess who’s back! (back back) back again! (again, again). anyway, hey :) i had random lines written for this for over a year & tbfh first yr of uni was great and then shit and then really shit so i had no desire to write, but i want to try!!! i really do!!! please, <3 comment & reblog <3 it means the world to me & literally every writer out there! excited for u all to read this :)

Some might say it’s obscene to be sat at a bar, three vodka cokes down, when it was only just past 7 o’clock. The sun still stared pointedly down outside the window, streets bustling with people only just starting their commute home. And sure, any other young adult might have used this opportunity to meet some friends, have a quiet night in, maybe text that one guy on Tinder they’d been putting off meeting– something, anything to fill the awkward lull in time that wouldn’t be too much of a regret the next day.

Some might say it’s obscene, but you like to think it’s just another Tuesday.

The problem with Tuesdays is that more often than not, Wednesdays tend to follow. And it was at noon on the dot that you’d have to make your forty-minute bus ride downtown (a mistake in itself when all anyone could smell was weed, piss and something else indistinguishably rancid), into the one office building that seemed to substantially out-tower the others like some sort of architectural pissing contest, only to sit in front of your Dad and his ever-overpowering bluntness.

And it’s not like you despised him with every molecule in your body– rather, a few molecules here and there. He loved you, that you were certain of, but owing anyone money, your own father especially, made relationships uncomfortable in a sticky, sweaty, clammy-hands kind-of-way. He had always been an immovable figure, suspiciously mafia-esque, even, but of course, you’d never dare broach the subject.

So, Dad, Pa, Father dearest– are the rumours true? Do you really run an underground boxing ring? Or is it arms? Drugs, maybe? As long as it’s not human trafficking, I’ll still love you!

Some things are better left untouched. If ignorance was bliss, you were determined to remain in whatever liminal state of unknowing you’d been in your entire life.

And while he kept to himself and you did to, the last Wednesday of every month, noon on the dot, was not to be messed with. You’d learned that the hard way when you’d missed one during a particularly harrowing cold. It’d been like a SWAT team smashing through your apartment windows when you’d forced her eyes open.

So instead, you gulped down another glass of scathing liquid, all but gagging near the end at the acidic taste of un-mixed liquor swirling around the bottom of your glass.

It was Tuesday, after all, and you hoped if you drank enough, there would be a chance you’d be able to zone out tomorrow– a sweet spot you’d yet to master (somewhere between mildly hungover but still coherent enough to please him).

“What is that– your fourth? Fifth?” A voice questioned alongside a scratch of the bar stool to your left. It was deep, curious, deliciously rough– enough so that your mouth quirked behind your glass, bracing yourself for the face attached to such an addictive timbre.

“Third, actually–” you turned, finally taking in the tousled, black hair, crooked nose with rounded glasses perched on top of them, “--have you been counting?”

He had a kind of all-consuming appearance. Dark yet boyish when you noticed how his smile leaned one way, and a slight chip in his front tooth. An athlete, maybe? You were going to thank whatever misguided angel, deity or God herself had brought him to you.

You didn’t make a habit out of chatting up posh-looking lads with egos that rivalled even that of Icarus and his melting wings, but maybe just this once you’d give in– actually take what’s being offered.

“Huh– dunno why you’re sounding so smug, love. Three drinks and it’s not even dinner time. Some might call that a problem.” Almost immediately that smile of his morphed into an all-knowing smirk, a teasing gleam swimming about in those swampy hazel eyes of his.

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. “Who? Eighteen year olds having a taste of their first legal drink? Not sure three drinks add up to literal alcoholism, love,” you threw back, defensive, accompanied by that kind of uppity tone in your voice you despised hearing in others’.

His irrefutable bemusement only sharpened the knife poking away between your ribs. Your frown deepened, and so did his grin, but still, his hands flew up in mock-defence as if your words could bite back (and boy, did you wish they could).

“My bad, sweetheart, only teasing,” he assured, nodding at the bartender and then your now-empty drink. Another one, his practised movements seemed to say,

“Do you make a habit out of calling girls alcoholics and then buying them a drink?” you asked, curiosity taking over your irritation.

He shrugged and you couldn’t help but follow the movement, watching as his broad shoulders seemed to invade your space with such careless effort. “So far, just you. It’s something new I’m trying out. What do ya’ think, is it working?” Again with that boyish charm– some sort of arrogance and humility all at once.

Your head shook in an immediate no, but more so to hide the smile that had unwillingly crept onto your face. You knew, with the way things were going, that you’d give into just about anything the man offered (of which he’d not even hinted at yet, but you were just so mesmerised and maybe a little tipsy so you didn’t quite care enough to think of how desperate you may be coming off).

“‘M James, by the way,” he offered as a white flag, a surrender, if you will. You accepted by returning the formality and raising your new drink to his own– a half-empty glass of clear liquid and ice.

“What is that?” you motioned to the beverage in question, “like– 10 shots of straight vodka at once?”

He snorted, a little ugly yet somehow endearingly attractive. Fuck. “Even better, actually– water.”

“And is that new as well, to go with the accusations and drinks?”

“Oh, yeah– I’m really trying to commit to this new year, new me thing,” he bounced back effortlessly.

“It’s November,” you deadpanned, brow arched.

“So I’m either a month and a bit early, or eleven late,” he quipped. You were stunned by the easy rhythm of your back and forth, wondering in what world someone like him could exist– a paragon of a man or whatever the scholars called it. “And while that’d be a fun little story if it were the truth, ‘m actually starting a job tomorrow. Big one, as well. Figured some self-restraint was in order.”

And it was only then that you’d noticed just how little space there was between the both of you, having somehow drifted closer, closer, closer like galaxies hurtling towards each other.

You all but swallowed, staring at his drink held between you, a last barrier that seemed both momentous and insignificant. He’d got you caged in as well, an arm lazing on your backrest, near enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin, blood, maybe even his desire. And his legs, in a somewhat similar position, only a whisper away from knocking into your own.

You considered giving in right then and there, urging his mouth to yours, maybe leading him to the restroom in a grungy stall you wouldn’t otherwise go near on even your worst, most wasted nights.

“Self-restraint with the drinks only, right?” you questioned, tearing your gaze from his glass to his eyes, only to find them already fixated to you. His mouth was perched open, a glide of his tongue against his bottom lip, and the action draws you closer to that chip in his tooth you’d noticed earlier– the one that begged you closer. For inspection, a taste– whatever.

“Oh, but of course. It’s my undoing really, my Achilles Heel, my Hubris,” he seemed to murmur, his words a secret between the two of you. You felt bold then, a rush of heat pouring through your veins as your palm came to rest on the thigh closest to you.

His eyes flickered down for a moment, as if making sure it was real — that touch — before they returned to you. Waiting, watching, with bated breath.

“What is?” you asked, questioning if you’d missed a part of his sentence or if he really was striking you speechless and a little stupid with his words.

“Pretty girls with drinking problems,” and you couldn’t help the surprised laugh that burst from you. He grinned and it was pure majesty.

“Yeah?” you mumbled, inching forward.

“Oh, yeah,” he replied, sealing his mouth to yours.

It was bright, too bright in his office– like the ceiling lamps worked part-time in interrogation rooms on the weekends. As much as you needed to be alert, comprehensive, at least mildly sober– it just wasn’t going to happen.

Last night had been something else entirely– the kind of mind-blowing fuck you could only ever dream about, when nights were lonely and the left side of the bed cold for too long. Your memory was somewhat hazy, tinged red with lipstick and lovebites and kicking the duvet out of the way to reach more skin. It was scathing yet sweet and a kind of ruination you welcomed with open arms.

But it also ended abruptly when your eyes flickered open the next morning (a few hours later, more like) and he was already gone. You knew it was for the best– you barely had time for yourself, your family and friends, let alone a stranger with a quick (and skilled, in many ways) tongue and wit.

So there you were, jarred by the empty feeling seeping into your bones. And the lights (had you mentioned the lights?).

“Now, how have things been going this past month?” your Father asked in that all-business, no-nonsense way of his. You think he knows you’re hungover but like all things in your relationship, the two of you choose to ignore it.

“There haven’t been as many customers as I would have liked. The school down the road has been half empty since most of everyone is on study leave, but I–”

“I didn’t ask for excuses, only how it’s going,” he interrupted swiftly. A stabbing pain seemed to appear at the base of your skull as you conjured the remaining energy inside of you to not roll your eyes at your own Father, as well as the man you quite literally owed thousands of pounds to.

“Of course, my bad,” you bit out, taking a deep breath before continuing. “The shop wasn’t as successful as previous months but I’ve got the money here anyway so I’ll still be on track.”

He nodded, accepting your answer and the envelope you placed on his otherwise scarce desk in front of him, before he slid the money, unchecked, into his top drawer.

You sighed, hurrying your words and rushing to gather your things and be out of that dreary office, “Well, if that’s all, I’ve got some errands to run and–”

“--Actually, there’s more I need to discuss with you.” For the second time that day, he cut you off and you fell, defeated, back into the cold leather of the chair. You tilted your head in some sort of half-nod that said, go on.

With his hands clasped in front of him, a stern front if there ever was one, he continued. “As you know, my work is complicated–” (you frowned) “--complicated and expensive. And when one is dealing with the amount of money this company makes, things can get… messy.”

To say you were confused would be an understatement. An actual conversation, albeit clouded with obscurity, about his job? “And when things are messy, one tends to make enemies.”

You couldn’t help how your frown deepened, but you held back any concerns before they could make their way past the tip of your tongue. Your Dad wasn’t one to be interrupted, even if he was particularly talented at doing it to others.

“Essentially, there’s someone who’s not very happy with me–” your mouth opens finally to prod at his statement but he continues anyway, “--and despite every precaution I have taken in order to keep you safe and separate from my work, it’s unfortunately backfired this time around. And so, for your safety, I’ve hired a bodyguard to watch over you for at least the next few months.”

He finished and then there was a resolute silence hanging over you as you took in his words.

You couldn’t help it– you burst out laughing.

“Dad, you’re not– I mean–” the sentence barely made its way out of your mouth before you were overcome with a fit of nervous giggles once more. This is absurd. “You’re not being serious, you can’t be. Right?”

Silence.

Oh.

So that’s when the panic set in, your fingers clutching the armrest on either side of you until your knuckles were white. “Holy fucking–”

“Language,” he scolded with no particular bite and you couldn’t help but scoff,

“Language? Seriously, language. That’s all you have to say. You’ve just told me there’s some kind of bounty on my head and that I need a bodyguard– like, a person to follow me around, twenty four-seven, and carrying a gun or some shit– but all you can think to say to me is fucking language?!” Your breath came out in quick pants, jumping to your feet as you paced the office.

This must be a joke, you thought incredulously. You can’t have some stranger following you around. You had a business to run, croissants to sell, debt to pay off! Who could possibly–

And somehow it got worse.

He walked in and the two of your gazes connecting immediately, like magnets (though this time in a completely different context with your own Father as a member of the audience). You could see, from your place by the window, how his irises grew imperceptibly wider for barely a second as the recognition set in.

“No. No, no, no,” you blurted out immediately, mouth still wide from shock and suddenly you questioned whether your rapid heartbeat was a surprise or something close to a heart attack. Oddly, you’d have preferred the latter.

“Sweetheart,” he had pulled out the big guns now, “this is James Potter.”

“Dad—” you tried and failed to interrupt.

“Don’t worry about the logistics, I’ve sorted it all out. I’ve already rented the apartment next to yours so that he’s nearby at all times. He’ll need to be hired as an employee at your bakery– you know, for appearances sake— but don’t worry about the cost, i’ve got it covered.” Your mouth opened and closed, gaping like a fish out of water.

“And most importantly, he is not to leave your side. Ever.” He said it with ease like he hadn’t just informed you that your one night stand had turned into your shadow for the foreseeable future.

James had yet to say anything, his face a facade you wished you could slap off in that moment. Instead, he stood stalk still, arms poised behind him like some sycophantic robot ready to do whatever your Father pleased.

“He can’t be my bodyguard, Dad,” you urged, rushing to his desk, palms slamming down in front of him.

His response was a raised brow (you shared that in common). “And why’s that?”

It’s like you could hear James’ heart skip a beat, probably because yours had as well. You couldn’t tell him the real reason– that’d be a death wish, for the pair of you, if there ever was one.

“It’s just– he’s too big!” James didn’t smile, not outwardly, but you could see it in his eyes when you glanced his way. “I mean, he’s scary or whatever. He won’t fit in with the decor and it’ll scare away the customers,” you reasoned.

He finally spoke and it was then that you truly did consider walking over and slapping him across his stupid, gorgeous face. “What customers?”

You scoffed, whipping your head towards him. “Oh, screw you!”

James looked as if he were going to bite back, mouth poised for a reaponse, but your Dad cut in to save the two of you from outting yourselves.

“That’s enough. This isn’t up for discussion. James is your bodyguard and you’ll have no say in the matter.”

You deflated immediately, collapsing into the same chair you’d sat in, clueless, earlier.

So much for one night.

comment & reblog :)) if u have any ideas for the next chapters do lmk!!! woo!!

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter smut #marauders fanfiction #bodyguard!james potter #bodyguard!james #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #james potter x you #marauders era

521 notes · View notes

virginprune · 3 months

Text

well, folks, it's thinking of felix forever thinking of felix time.

today i want to ramble about a common expression i see in the saltburn mines ("felix is his mother's son") and why i think it's often used as an oversimplification of both characters.

firstly, elspeth and her revolving door of poor dear guests. it's important to note that elspeth has been playing this game for a long, long time, at least as long as she's been the lady of the household (a good twenty years!). there are unspoken rules and games always at play within their society, and elspeth never fails to act with the appropriate level of decorum. only in private does she disparage pamela. in public, even around felix, she is careful to frame her boredom as her guests outgrowing her. even when pamela refuses to take a hint, she is removed from saltburn quietly and behind the scenes as early in the day as possible. the only two people that are ever truly aware of what's happening and actively taking notes of this… are oliver and farleigh, for whom the pecking order is extremely important. with that in mind, it seems very unlikely felix is aware of any of this, and instead sees it as his mother having a surprisingly kind streak despite all her annoying hang-ups and eccentricities.

but what about felix's toys from yesteryear? i think it is so telling that the word 'toy' only comes up in literally one scene, from a spurned venetia! oliver had pulled out the shameful, ugly parts of venetia that scared everyone else away, and found her desirable all the same. in the end, he made it very clear to her during that dinner scene: you can be my dirty little secret, but felix is more important to me. venetia is so perceptive too, just like farleigh (important survival skills imo); she knew exactly what would hurt him, because he is so desperate to remain in felix's good graces.

the only actual evidence in canon we have of one of felix's former guests is his best friend from school, eddie. it's unclear if eddie was "last year's one", or their fallout had taken place farther in the past. how long were they even friends for? we just don't know, but i imagine felix does not easily call anyone his best friend. emerald fennell herself actually refers to them as "felix's favourites" which i love and find more appropriate lol. more conjecture from me, but with those smidgens of context, i do not think felix was picking up the saddest, poorest boys he could find at a prestigious boarding school. his "friends" in the film are unbearably posh boys, and felix's childhood boy besties would have likely been as well.

so, oliver was an outlier in this. there is so much in the way felix and his family see oliver that confirms that they've never actually seen a Poor TM up close lmao. maybe oliver was going to get an invite to saltburn no matter what (he was, in every way, felix's favourite at oxford). but i think in that moment on date night bridge, if felix was his mother's son (as felix knew her), it was in that he saw someone he cared for in pain, with an uncertain place in the world, and knew no one would find it strange if he stayed in their home. in fact, the way felix words it (that his mum lets people stay for months at a time), leads me to believe that not even felix's former favourites stayed as long as oliver did.

another thing about that scene: felix, almost shyly, invites oliver to come home with him, and the first thing oliver does... is tell him no. we all know it's a dream come true for oliver, but he puts felix in a position where he has to practically beg oliver to accept lmao. insane behaviour tbfh!

#saltburn #yappy yappy time #felix catton #oliver quick #elspeth catton #if anyone tells you that felix wasn't down bad for oliver in a way he had never known before just send them my way

119 notes · View notes

just-some-random-blogger · 1 year

Note

Hiii 💜 could I request a Daemon x Reader fic? They are in an arranged marriage and it's their wedding night. Reader is quite shy and reserved (she's the total opposite of Daemon) and she is very nervous about having to spend time with him because she knows about his reputation all too well (and also what happened to his first wife, Lady Rhea Royce). So when they're all alone in their chambers she tries to delay the inevitable but he sees right through her. So they start to argue and in the midst of their discussion she tells him she's scared of him. He just chuckles and tells her that he was the one that asked her father for her hand with the approval of his brother, king Viserys. And maybe then some smut? Thank you so much, love!

Mourn Me

Daemon Targaryen x Reader

Summary: You were the daughter and only child of a wealthy Lord and Lady that had met misfortune during their travels. Falling under the ward of your aunt, she was so graciously set on allowing you to marry for love. However, you did not want that, you wanted Daemon Targaryen.

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: fem!reader, smut (dub con, virgin!reader, first time awkwardness, fingering, vaginal penetration, oral [f receiving], praise kink, degradation kink, corruption kink, hair pulling), mentions of death, devious!daemon but you already knew that, fluff maybe, typos, etc.

A/N: folks MDNI im experiencing a crash and burn meaning i cant write anyfin⚰️ so i offer youz dis cos i will just be🧍 lurkin for a while. Anyway idk i had a hard time tryna convince myself that daemon would want an arranged marriage after rhea tbfh so i HAD to convince myself which means i took some liberties SO yeah. also i combined this with another req i have that's pretty similar hope yall like it. Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @slavyanskiyahui

I recall the day my father's brother died. It was a dreary, solemn day, and I had a vapid look upon my face. I felt for my uncle; indeed, it was quite sad that he passed, but I was not terribly close to him.

My father, I knew, was. This was why when he turned from me from over his shoulder, making it a point not to be inconspicuous, and made exaggerated cries in an attempt to make me laugh, that day truly felt sad to me.

My father cared more about how I felt than how he felt. The thought squeezed my heart.

And as I knelt upon the floor, before casket of my father and my mother, tears streaking my eyes, I realized no one in this world would ever do that for me again.

No one would ever swallow their sorrows in lieu of alleviating mine. Not my friends, not my cousins, not my servants, and especially not one of the men presented to me truly cared for my tears, not that way. I knew the acerb truth. They all wanted me for I was the door to my parents wealth.

I was by myself, on my own, and terribly lonely.

And it was not that the Lord of Fleabottom offered anything inverse to it, but I appreciated the fact his mere presence made the thick sea of avaricious men part.

Daemon Targaryen unabashedly eyes me as he hands a random man his cup and walks over. The moment he did, the lords surrounding me dissipated into thin air.

"I thought you would be better looking up close," he speaks once he is beside me.

I turn to him, eyes widening, "I beg your pardon."

"Well," he looks around, "you have all the lords in a riot," he leans towards me and inhales deeply.

I recoil in mortification when he does.

He pulls back with a smirk, "yet you smell like the rest of the ladies, and appear no fairer than them."

My lips part and my wide eyes blink slowly at his words. The prince does nothing. He does not even seem amused by my reaction, instead, he merely assesses me.

What am I? Cattle?

My face contorts and yet I do not get to chew at him, for he asks me abruptly, "what's gotten them so restless?"

I scoff and heave heavily. A loud fit of giggles from the women across the room snap me out of my angry state. Both Daemon and I turn, finding the women were glancing our way, clearly talking about us. I eye the long haired, uncouth ruffian, deciding it would be better if I simply walked away, rather than unleashing the fury that had been building up in me the whole day.

Daemon watches as I walk off. He raises a brow and purses his lip. He raises his voice, "you're a rude one, aren't you?"

I feel my eye twitch, and out of my dropped jaw comes a sound of annoyance. I clench my jaw tightly and strangle my skirts in my hands. I do not give him the satisfaction of turning back to him and head for the banquet to pour myself a cup of wine.

Regretfully, I am quickly hounded by lords left and right again before I can even finish my cup. It is deeply irritating, and though I mention to them I wanted a moment to drink on my own, none of them relent. All the attention draws back that of the prince's.

Once more, like clockwork, I watch as all the men flee the area upon catching sight of the roguish Targaryen making his way over.

This time, I note his deterring presence in the back of my head as I watch him march over to me. Daemon comes up to my side of the banquet. He is facing the opposite direction I am and pours himself a drink, "how do you find the wine, lady?"

I look at him, gobsmacked by his question. I scan the room, finding that the lords and ladies that were so readily coming at me moments ago, since the moment I arrived, were now finding it hard to even keep my gaze. I blink and turn to the man to my side, finding he was already looking back at me.

Daemon takes a sip of his drink.

"It's quite dry, and I think it's been sweetened with honey."

He chuckles as he draws his cup from his lips, "an astute observation," he turns around and looks out to the crowds, making everyone that was looking flinch and look away, "I heard the fool hosting this gaggle cannot stand the taste of sour wine and had all them sweetened-- stupid fuck."

I knit my brows at that and watch him take another sip, "yet you still drink."

Daemon tilts his head and licks his moistened lips, "better than nothing."

For a moment, we do nothing but stand next to each other and scan the room. During this time, I catch sight of my aunt, looking back at me with a wary and concerned expression. She motions with her head, wordlessly telling me to have my leave and go back to entertaining the lords.

I clench my jaw and sigh.

She meant well. If I there was anyone I could trust anyone, it was her, but she was too eager and persistent in marrying me off, in having it done. Yes, she was doing this for my sake. Yes, she was giving me the choice to marry who I please. But I'm exhausted. I'm worn like chalk on a wall. And, in fact, this was the most peace I've had in weeks. Just me, my thoughts-

I turn to my side and watch the man wince at the drink he still pointedly continues to subject himself to.

-and Daemon Targaryen.

I find myself in an interesting situation it seems.

I give my aunt one last look. Her wide eyes were practically screaming at me, though her lips were tightly pressed together. I look back to the prince. He looks back at me with an idle expression.

"Are you here to insult me further, my prince?"

Daemon knits his brows slightly, "insult you, have I? I merely speak plainly."

I do little to mask how my face contorts.

He lifts his cup to sip some more wine, but then changes his mind. He raises a finger from the hand which held it, "if I actually wanted to insult you, you'd be left in a fit of tears."

I release a small breath, "then consider me honored to have not been insulted by you, your grace."

"You don't sound too much it," Daemon sets his cup down, "methinks you should try again."

When Daemon's lilac eyes lock with mine, I hold his stare and ignore his words. I mutter, "if you are still curious as to why a gander of men are flocking toward me, then--"

"Oh no, Lord Barnaby over there already enlightened me of how handsome your inheritance is," he points then tents his hands in front of him, "in truth, I came here to spectate your championship, but the lecherous fucks have evaded my presence," he purses his lips in false thought, "odd, dont you think?"

I cannot help the faint, airy chuckle that leaves my mouth. I shake my head, "clearly, they are all intimidated by your presence."

"Yet," he looks off, "here you are, tall beside me."

I silently look at him for a moment, taking in the slope of his nose, and the cut of his cheek and jaw. I only turn away when he tilts his head and speaks, "do you know her?"

I turn to where he was looking and find my aunt staring back. She gives me another look and I immediately turn away, "she is my aunt."

He hums, "she too can keep my gaze," he turns to me, "color me impressed by the women of your house."

"She no longer belongs to my house."

He hums again, "and soon you no longer will belong to yours."

It was clear at this point, the prince now lost his interest in me and was about to walk away.

I don't let him.

"The lords have fled because they're intimated by the competition."

Daemon, about to walk off, stops himself before he even does. He looks at me and chuckles. He then eyes my body, "I am not interested in the game."

"I doubt they are interested in the game, your grace," I cross my arms, "they are only interested in my gold coffers."

I catch how his eyes land on my bosoms before landing back to my face. Daemon presses his lips into a line and shrugs, "then I'll leave you to finding the most interesting idiot you'd like to give offer your coffers and cunt to."

And though I cringe at his words and he manages a few steps away, I stop him yet again, "you, my prince."

Daemon stills. He takes a moment before turning back to me.

Once we catch each other's eyes, I speak out for good measure and relax my arms to my sides, "I... would interest you."

He looks at me with a darkened gaze. I could not exactly say what expression it was, but it made my stomach roll. He slowly steps forward, "so you enjoy insults?"

He steps again. "You did not insult me, my prince."

Another step, "didn't I?"

I, myself, step back when he presses closer than where he was a while ago, "n-no."

He hums, taking another step.

"Truly," my back hits the banquet table as Daemon invades my space. I shudder at his scent, warm like furnace fire and sweet like oranges, "rough as you are, you do only speak plainly."

Daemon only stops once there was but a step between us. His head is downturned and his eyes are upturned, "zūgagon hontes," scared bird.

I release a breath and manage the gall to push him away. He looks at my hand when it presses against his chest. He chuckles as he steps back, "you want to interest me, yet insult me yourself by calling me rough."

"I-"

He grabs my hand before I pull it away and drags me forward, "what would a little girl like you know of rough?" My heart is trapped in my throat when his calloused fingers begin to rub against my palms as he speaks, "aōha rāpa ondos emagon dōrī gaomagon rhinka mirre." Your soft hands have never done rough work.

I yank my hand away from him and he thoughtlessly releases me. He tilts his head, "what about me has gotten you interested?"

I rub my hands together and breathe deeply, "... your teeth."

"My teeth?"

I huff through my nose, "not a single person has come to interrupt us. Not even as you've pressed close and grabbed me."

Daemon raises his brows.

"I have been tirelessly pestered left and right with marriage proposals, only now have I known repose," I gulp, straightening up. "If I were to wed you, then my peace would be guaranteed."

He scoffs and rolls his eyes.

"I would only be pestered by you and your concerns, but never would I have to frolic with ladies I do not care for, not engage in pleasantries with lords that make my skin crawl."

He narrows his eyes and presses close to me again. I let him this time.

He does not hesitate and grabs me by the waist, pulling me flush against his chest untill my senses are bombarded by nothing but him. My heart is thundering in my chest.

"You take me a fool to believe that's all you could want from me?"

I let out a shaky breath, "like you, I only speak plainly."

He makes a sound. He lifts his hand and drags his knuckles down my face. My skin pricks with gooseflesh. I cannot help that my hands come up to his chest and push him back again. This time, he does not relent or release.

I begin to panic, "I am the last of my house, its undisputable inheritor. There are no male heirs, no alliances, none other than that which would be borne out of my marriage. I-I would belong to you, wholly. And I-" I squeak when he pushes me into the table, "I would--"

Daemon mutters, "you would never know peace as my bride, foolish girl. There would be not a moment were hankering pricks ceased picking at your being, at your every move. You would bare the weight of the kingdom's qualms on your shoulders," he releases me, "and from that you would never know respite."

I heave as he steps away, eyeing me hotly, still. I swallow a thick knot in my throat, "b-but you would stand in its way."

Daemon's face contorts.

"And from what I know of you, prince Daemon, that is assured. I cannot say that for any other lord I've met."

When he walked away from me that moment, I felt an immense crash of shame and regret wash over me. Truly, I was a fool for thinking one such as the Rogue Prince could ever be persuaded only by words.

And yet an even more immense crash washed up when Daemon Targaryen came to formally ask for my hand. Even now, as he's whisked me off in what I will forever know as our shared chambers in the Red Keep, I was unsure what exactly this emotion was inside me.

Hard as I tried, I could not help my bodily reactions to his touch. I could not mask my shivering or flinching as Daemon undid the ties of my dress from behind.

I could not help the way I shriveled up when he leaned into my shoulder and whispered hotly there something I did not understand.

As my skin pricks, he pushes me toward our bed and I obediently lie on my chest as he brings me down. I feel my heart pounding against the mattress as he rids of my shoes and rakes his fingers up my legs from beneath my skirt. I muffle my whimper.

"I asked if you regret your decision, timid thing."

I shake my head and pipe up, "no."

I feel Daemon's hand on the back of my thigh, hiking up my bum. He mutters, "are you quite certain?"

I let out an almost pained sound, "perhaps we can... do this a-another time."

He throws my skirt over and digs his fingers into my smallclothes, "and why would we do that? That's a terrible idea."

I press my legs as tightly together as I could when he begins to pull my garments down. At some point I begin to wrangle my legs against him. I offer, "we- we have not spoken much!"

He grabs my legs and yanks me toward him to prove a point, "I assure you, you need not speak at all. In fact, I doubt you'll be able to."

I feel my face burn.

Soon enough, he works on my dress again, and the next thing I know, I am lying rigidly on my back in nothing by my shift.

He chuckles softly with the sound of ruffling clothing, "will you not even offer me your assistance, poppet?"

I suck in a breath for courage and turn to him. He was already undoing his breeches, and his chest was already bare. I look to the ceiling, "you're able bodied enough, husband."

Daemon laughs.

I close my eyes when I feel the bed dip. My heart hammers all over again.

"Open your legs."

I clench my jaw and gulp heavily. I drag my feet up and part my legs below my knees, thighs very much clamped shut. He laughs again as I feel his hand bunch my remaining clothes up to my hips. Daemon says, "you'll find I quite enjoy toughing it out."

When his hands press on my knees, I decide not to fight him when he pushes them apart. I feel him maneuver in between my limbs, "good girl."

He wraps my legs around him and comes upon me, sinking down to my neck to plant kisses there. Instinctively, my arms warp around him and my fingers dig into his frim flesh. I whimper manically when he ruts into me.

I did not anticipate that his kisses would trail down my body. By the time he reached my navel and his hands were practically prying my thighs apart, I grab at his hair and tug him up, "what are you doing?!"

My stomach rolls when he looks up at me and states, "you wouldn't survive if I roughed it out before I did this."

I don't get to reply as my words are pulverized into a yelp when I feel his fingers come to my pulsing core, "D-Daemon, what-"

"Shhh," he continues his descent as his fingers work into me, "your body knows what I am doing."

Daemon amuses himself with the sounds he gets from moving his fingers in and out of the wetness before him. "A crying virgin, you are," he notes. He laps at my weeping center. I whine at his burning hot breath when he speaks, "so dripping wet for nothing," he smirks, "so wet for me."

His motions feel deliberately as though he was stretching me out. And for every move he made, my voice and thighs react. He keeps me open with the weight of his arms pressing down on me. The sensation of his mouth and fingers leave me a shaking, whimpering mess.

I grip on his hair for dear life, and yet it does not even occur to me that I could be hurting him. I don't think I care, to be honest.

The only thing I get out of Daemon are a couple of grunts and many hot huffs.

The sound of me being worked on by him is absolutely obscene. And soon enough, my cries exceed that level of obscenity when I crumble into a rubble of throaty breaths and shivering pleasure. The feeling was nothing like I've ever felt before and it was mind breaking.

I tense tightly as croak at the delicious feeling coursing through me. My nails dig into his scalp. My thighs begin to shake.

Once I am out of breath and reeling, Daemon lifts his head and nips at my flesh, making my toes curl, "such an easy prize, aren't you? Barely took a second."

I dare to pry my screwed eyes open as my husband crawls over me and brings my shift up along with him. Helplessly, and rather deliriously, I lift up my hands and let him finally strip me naked. He throws my clothes off to the side and looms over my face, "how was that?"

I look up at him and, even with the haze in my mind, find embarrassment in how... how sloppy his face looked, gleaming under the dim lit room. I find myself unable to move.

He smirks and, sequentially, chuckles, "I told you so," he grabs my thighs, "not even a sound from my doe. Finger fucked silly."

A great many sounds do leave me when I feel a hard intrusion push into my tender folds. My breath catches in my throat and, by my ear, he whispers a string of curses. Daemon begins to slowly rock his hips, easing slowly but deeply into me.

"Daemon," I whine, arms clutching him tightly against me. He pushes my legs to my sides, folding me into such a vulnerable position. It gives him complete access to me d as he moves, he knocks into a nerve that makes my eyes roll back. The sounds that leave me become louder and deeper.

"Mmm, fuck, such a hot, little cunt," he hisses, "so soft," he harshly kneads my flesh, "my tight fuck pillow," he grunts, "hope you don't regret it."

Daemon's mouth finds mine, and the tangy taste all over his tongue and lips make my stomach coil in indescribable ways. My nails helplessly dig into the taunt base of his working spine. He groans into our kiss and moves faster.

I pull away from him, in desperate need for air and feel myself grow wetter and wetter all over, especially between my thighs.

"Tell me. Do you regret this? Would you have rather were talked like you wanted? Shall I pull out and stop fucking my stupid little wife?"

Daemon's hand finds my cheek and his thumb smears the slickness on my parted lips.

Much to both his enjoyment and annoyance, he receives no reply from me, and the only sound that ripples into the room is that of slapping skin and gutteral moans.

He drags the skin on my cheek back with his palm, "gonna need an answer, pretty girl, or else I'll fucking stop."

Hearing that and feeling him slow makes me sentient. I tighten my arms around him and rapidly shake my head as I desperately respond, "no. I don't- don't regret it. Pleasedonstop."

Daemon's ego is stroked and his thrusts pick up the pace.

The rapid shift of him barely being there to being filled to the hilt makes the corner of my eyes prick with water.

I call out his name and he dutifully hums, "mmm, shall I stop?"

"No! Please-"

"And why shouldn't I?" he growls, as if in anger, as if threatening to stop, though, in truth, his motions do not slow at all.

I cannot for the life of me think of a reason, nor can I even think, to be honest. Instead, I latch onto his shoulder, biting, kissing, and muffling my noises.

Daemon leans into me and answers himself, "s'it because I should take care of my things, hmm?" He pants, "you belong to me, don't you?"

"Yes, Dae- yes, yes, ye-"

He drags out a hum, "oh, I'd be so sorry to break my pretty thing, wouldn't I? So sorry to break you," he chuckles lowly, "shall I take care of you, sweetheart?"

I squeak, "mmm, please. Pleassse"

"Such good manners," he sighs, "so well-bred. So willing to be bred."

The second wave of pleasure that comes upon me is far more intense and far more tiring than the first. I practically stop breathing as I convulse around him. I squeeze him so tightly with both my arms, my legs, and my cunt that I possibly empty the air out of his lungs as well.

I call out his name as I shatter beneath him.

Eventually, his persistent movements relent as he, too, quakes, and sequentially lays heavily above me, catching his breath just like I was.

As my pulse thuds, and as I feel his thudding, both against my chest and in my womb, I begin to stroke his back gently, relishing in the feel of him, his hotness, his scent. I think about what he asked, if I regret this. I release a deep breath. Certainly, in this moment, there was not a lick of regret or doubt in me with him.

My eyelids are as heavy as my breathing. If this would be what's it's like to be his wife, to love him, then there would never be an inch of regret in me.

I vaguely feel Daemon kiss my jaw before rolling off.

#daemon fanfic #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon smut #daemon targaryen smut #daemon fluff #daemon targaryen fluff

266 notes · View notes