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faetreides · 3 days

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🎾 - #LOVE ON THE FLOOR !!

cw: unrealistic public sex on a tennis court 💀 (it’s nighttime and no one else is there), college era, afab reader, gross friends to lovers, strip tennis, soft dom!art x inexperienced!reader, vaginal fingering + titfucking + brief analingus (afab reader receiving), implied (soft) obsession & toxicity like art would marry you tomorrow, teasing (towards reader), nipple sucking (m receiving), art putting in overtime to hit on oblivious!reader, reader is so comically unaware pls just roll with it and suspend your disbelief, mandatory Patrick™️ mention, 3.5k of pure need, art’s so horny in this like 😔 (+subtle implications of him either being a manwhore or a porn addict, as a little treat), lowkey canon typical mind games, unedited

this was requested by a bot looking blog that i had to block but the idea still slapped! combined with an ask for inexperienced reader

Art Donaldson sees your instagram story that’s only a repost of a Ethel Cain song and tries not to click his heels together. It’s not like he’s happy you’re clearly going through something, but if the story is a result of what he thinks it’s a result of… then he’ll comfort you through it however he can. With his words, his tongue, babying you in the bath and washing your hair, etc. Just getting to be intimate with you at all is an opportunity he’d never turn down.

Suddenly you’re bursting into Art’s dorm like a bat out of hell, tears dotting your waterline and lower lip wobbling. His heart lurches and leaps in equal measures, his backwards cap feels like it constricts around his head as he resists the urge to fidget with it.

“He… he didn’t show up!”

Art shoots up and gets off his bed, rushing to you and rubbing his hands up and down your arms, “What are you talking about?”

He gives you a lingering hug and passes you some of your favorite fast food that he always keeps in the little fridge in his dorm. Somehow knowing that it’d be just what the doctor ordered, you’re so lucky to have such a caring friend. You two haven’t left each other’s side since you bumped him on the first day of class, bringing a clice to life by spilling your coffee all over his polo. Sometimes you still lie awake at night and cringe at yourself, trying to assure yourself that he’s stuck around your awkward ass for a reason.

You’re hiccuping through your story while munching on your chicken sandwich, “Mark acted so exicted yesterday, and now he’s stood me up. I waited in front of the café for an hour, people were staring…”

Art eyes you from his position on the bed, crowding against you due to the size and having half of his torso glued to your back. He doesn’t giggle at the adorable way you get frustrated when the pickle in your sandwich always slides out in between your teeth during a bite, but he thought about it! He reaches up and brushes his fingers against your hair, wanting to just touch it more than move it.

“I don’t know what to tell you, he’s an idiot and you’ll move on. It’s not like he’s the only person in the world.” He grumbles, not quite pouting as he hooks his chin on your shoulder.

“Okay now you’re just grumpy because I beat you at uno.” You tease, gesturing to the scattered pile of brightly colored cards on the bed.

He’s definitely made you feel better though, he always does. You both finish your food and Art stands up from the bed to grab his tennis bag. He pulls you up too and winks, saying that you can’t beat him at everything. You ask what he’s doing and he only grins, telling you to come with him. You nervously glance around as you’re pulled to race through the halls to the court. There’s a simmering feeling weaving in and out of your tightly intertwined fingers.

divider

Art lets go of your hand to drop his bag on the ground, leaving your palm feeling strangely cold without his warmth.

You’re still not sure you should even be out here, you know that you’re definitely not allowed but Art seems to sense your hesitation because he rushes towards you and cups your hands in his.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re not gonna get in trouble or anything, y’know that?” He chuckles, gently knocking the tip of his nose against yours. “Look up for me, the moon’s really pretty tonight.”

You follow his lead and tilt your head back to gaze up at the goregous crescent moon high in the oil colored sky. You don’t notice that he’s looking at you instead, that he doesn’t say that the moon reminds him of you but he feels like the one orbiting around you instead of the other way around. Luckily there’s not a cloud in sight, just a floating city of stars with a glowing center. Art lightly pulls on your wrists, clearly wanting your attention back on him, so you comply.

You’re not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but you don’t miss the odd glint in his eyes as he narrows them slightly.

His eyelids crinkle as he smiles charmingly, “Don’t you trust me?”

You answer with your heart, “Yes, of course I do.”

He beams at you and explains the rule of the game he dragged you all the way out here to play. It’s just like a regular game of tennis so you really shouldn’t sweat it, he says. His expression shifts when he makes a show out of being unable to look you in the eye when he tells you the special rules, knowing full well you can see him try to tamper down a self satisfied laugh. Whoever scores gets to pick whatever piece of clothing the other takes off, and the loser of the game has to get completely naked if they aren’t already.

Your cheeks warm and you gawk at him, “Isn’t it weird that you’ll see me… like that?”

“So you already know you’re gonna lose, huh? And it’s not like i haven’t seen most of it before.” Art laughs, not bothering to hide the blush on his face. “You’ve seen all of me, anyway.”

It’s true, you usually laze around in nothing but your underwear and that’s been the norm for you two. Art’s no different, he’ll change in front of you and will literally walk around butt naked around your dorm. More often than not, he’ll answer the door in only a towel around his waist and sitting on his hip bones, no matter if it’s one of your other friends or a project partner. You're constantly having to text the other because you forgot that you left your toothbrush behind. You’ve never had a chance to be embarrassed by it. It’s been like that for the longest time and anytime you’ll tell Art that your friends keep asking if he’s your boyfriend, he’ll just reassure you that you guys are just really close. And isn’t that a good thing?

“Besides, I think this’ll help get you out of your shell.”

You’re embarrassed at the reminder of how inexperienced you are. Sure, you shouldn’t have a whole thing about it or whatever, but it just is kind of alienating from other people your age to not be able to say you’ve done what they’ve done. And you would’ve been able to have some stories of your own if you could manage to hold down a date. But tonight isn’t supposed to be about you wallowing, you’re supposed to be having fun. Even if the sight of your best friend in tight fitting sporty clothes makes your pussy throb.

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You giggle nervously when he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you, swaying you from side to side before moving his grip up to your arms.

“Relax, i’m just checking your form. Being close to you is just a bonus.” He winks and presses his stomach up against your back.

It’s so cheesy, the situation and the pose. But you lean into his touch and pretend to care about how he’s showing you the right way to hold a racket and all that, he doesn’t even really care if he’s being honest. It’s romantic though, and he can’t resist the opportunity to get a taste of what it’d be like to pin your body down with his weight. He guides you through a few “practice” swings and then throws a two finger salute at you as he jogs around the net to his side of the court.

It’s your serve, and despite you being very much a beginner, you get the first point.

Art stands there expectantly, cocking his head to the side and bouncing on his heels in anticipation. You honestly didn’t consider that you’d actually be telling your best friend to take off his clothes for you, but you’re new thing is taking shit in stride, you guess.

“So, what’s it gonna be?” He shouts and hovers his fingers around the collar of his polo, ready for you to say the word.

You take the coward’s way out, “Your shoes.”

Art frowns but obeys the rules, swiftly unlacing his sneakers and tossing them to the side. The court’s not so rough that it’d be hell on his feet, but he’d do it for you even if it was all a bunch of jagged rocks cobbled together. The game goes on with Art scoring the next point, and then the one after that. He has you discard your necklace, one of those cheesy half heart ones that matches with one he has, and your shoes as well. He doesn’t wanna scare you off, but he knows what he wants to have you take off for him.

You score the next time, down goes his pants. Without them, few things are left to the imagination. Every time he’d walk around you naked you’d always keep your face firmly glued to your phone or something. But being faced with the very… detailed outline of his bulge through his underwear, that’s another thing entirely. It looks so long against his thigh it might as well be a third leg. There’s already a little wet spot where the tip must be.

You must’ve been taking too long to ogle him, because Art yells at you to “Focus on the game, yeah?”

You’re lucky it’s not a cold night when he gets the next point and has you take off your pants, which are really just glorified shorts. You unfasten them and shimmy them down your legs, letting them pool around your ankles and kicking them away from you. You haven’t shaved today, but you know that Art doesn’t care about that sort of thing. He’s made sure to tell you as much many times when you complain about how much your back hurts after you get done with it.

Art takes his sweet time dragging his gaze down your legs, already imagining bringing them around his waist or over his shoulders. Your panties are so cute too, cupping your pussy so closely that he can see the shapes of your puffy lips from all the way on the other side of the court, a “camel toe” or whatever you call it. He thinks it’s so hot, but you’re shy about it, asking him to see how you look in jeans that are a size too small. He always does a thorough inspection.

Whoever scores next wins the game, and you’re too busy trying not to fall on your ass to put any effort into it. It’s not a real game away, and besides, it’s not like anything has to happen when the loser completely undresses. Out of the corner of your eye you see Art’s dick twitch in his briefs and you get so distracted that you freeze and miss the neon yellow-green ball hurtling past you. Art whoops and cheers as you process the fact that you lost.

“You know what that means.” Art grins from ear to ear. “Make a show out of it for me.”

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You don’t even mind the staring, it’s such a common thing that you’d be more pissed off if he wasn’t looking at you at all. The way his eyes devour every inch of bare skin and drop of sweat that you earned during the game. You pull your tank top up and over your head, leaving you in just your bra and panties. Your bra isn’t a frilly thing, you wear it mainly for support, but Art can’t seem to tear himself away from the view of your pushed up tits rising and falling as you breathe.

You…. don’t know what to do now, the big appeal of the game is over, you awkwardly laugh it off and bend over to pick up your clothes. Art shakes his head to snap himself out of his horny fever dream and races over to you, latching onto your wrist and stopping you from getting dressed again.

“You’re supposed to take it all off, remember?”

You drop your clothes, noticing that he still doesn’t let you go.

Heats fills your cheeks as he steps closer, delicately sliding his fingertips up the inside of your arm and around your back. He plays with the hook of your bra, gazing down at you with a look full to brim with unknown intent and purpose. He doesn’t do something as bold as unlatching it right out the gate, no, he just stares into your soul.

“I remember.” Your eyes drop down to his lips, and that’s when you know it’s over. “Can’t exactly do it myself if you’ve already got one foot in the door.”

You’ve gotta know when to fold ‘em, and all that.

Art softly smiles and loops his fingers under your bra strap. You have to remind yourself to breathe, but you don’t really get much of a chance to. Before you can stop yourself and think with your head, you’re canting up to press your lips to his. Art immediately kisses you back, chuckling into the kiss when you gasp as he expertly unhooks your bra with one hand.

In the blink of an eye, you’re flat on your back on the court, Art having hastily thrown his shirt under you while you were tangling your tongues together. He presses an array of wet open mouthed kisses down your body, paying extra special attention to the trimmed patch of hair at the top of your mound.

“Smells so good, ‘s cute, too. It figures you’d have the prettiest pussy I've ever seen.” He coos, dragging a lone finger down your slit before gently pushing it inside.

You gasp, wrenching your eyes shut tight at the intrusion. He takes good care of you, slowly sinking his finger in to the knuckle and sliding it in and out of you. He gradually adds more fingers as the minutes pass. Your walls throb around him, and if Art were a weaker man (like the guy you almost went out with) he would’ve said fuck it and plunged his dick into your cunt in one smooth stroke. But you deserve the best first time possible, and all the distractions he’s used have helped him be patient enough to refrain from humping you like a dog.

“You’re okay, you can take it. It’s nothing compared to what this pussy’s going to be taking later anyway, baby.” He hums and nuzzles his nose into where your inner thigh meets your mound.

As he’s languidly thrusting his fingers into your puffy pussy, Art strains his neck to lap at your ass. He holds one of your fat cheeks in his free hand and spreads you open, diving in to suck on the puckered hole between them. He sharpens his tongue and jabs it into your ass, his cock throbs when you let out the sweetest little squeals at the squelching and throaty noises he’s making. He can feel your hole unfurling with every slurp and suck, something that only makes him increase the speed of his long fingers in your pussy, maintaining a breathtaking steady rhythm.

Eventually his poor leaking cock can’t take anymore grinding into the ground, so Art crooks his fingers and (albeit a bit cruelly) jams them into your sweet spot. The velvet grip of your pussy strangles his digits like a dream, you’d take dick so beautifully. Your eyes fly open and your throat spasms around a mangled moan. He pulls his fingers out of your soaking wet pussy, smirking up at you as he sucks them try like a professionally trained whore. Your clit receives a loving kitten lick as an apology for neglecting it, and with that Art hovers over you at an even eye to eye level again.

“Holy shit…” You pant and flick his pebbled nipples, absentmindedly rolling them around with your thumb. “Are we really doing this?”

“Yeah, we are.” Art sighs, his head falls back as you duck down to suck his nipples into your mouth, the saliva you lathered them with dripping down your chin. He grabs the back of your head and pushes your face into his chest, arching his back.

“Relax, I bribed security and told them to fuck off for the night.”

That doesn’t concern you as much as it should, you’re too transfixed on Art wrenching your mouth off of his pecs and moving to straddle your chest.

“Can you push them together for me?” He breathes hard and grinds his weeping cock against your tits, mesmerized by how his precum makes your skin glisten.

“Oh, fuck.” He groans when you do, making quick use out of the delicious new friction the little pocket provides. “Thanks, honey.”

You keep staring at the tip of his dick, loving the little peek you get of it as he fucks your tits and it pokes your chin. You don’t even realize you’re doing it but you let your mouth hang open, angling your head down so his cockhead pecks your tongue at the end of every thrust. You make sure to lick every drop of pre cum away as it oozes out of him, looking so nice against the flushed pink skin of his tip. Art groans when he finally summons the strength to watch you do it, the sight hurtling him over the edge before he has the time or vocal ability to warn you.

His thick load jets out to land all over your tits, half of it on the lower half of your face. You’re almost sad it didn’t get high enough to clump your lashes together, it would’ve made for the perfect contact picture. Oh well, maybe next time. It’s amazing, the switch you’ve made from the shy friend to the writhing slut underneath him. You blame it on the honest to God sweet taste of his milky white cum, surprisingly making you think of the pineapples he always snatches from your plate when you eat at school together.

(Another painstaking effort made just for you, love)

It’s a miracle you get back to his dorm, some of your clothes are swapped and put on incorrectly and you both didn’t clean up at all. As soon as you reach the door, Art practically shoves you inside and onto the bed. He gets so frustrated with having to get your clothes off again that he just rips them right off of you, promising to take you to the mall tomorrow (or whenever he lets you leave the bed) to buy replacements. You literally couldn't care less if he shackles you to the wall, you need him to rearrange your guts so badly, you’d kill for it. Should you be having deep conversations about your feelings and what the future will look like? Absolutely, but your clit is clouding your sense of rationality and you don’t mind that right now.

“Do you even know how much i’ve wanted this? To fuck you so hard that we end up attached at the hip?” He bites, breaking away from your lips to suck bruises down the column of your throat. “We can have a baby- please have my baby, fuck!”

There’s something so weirdly romantic about the leftover scent of the court combined with the twinkling stars outside. Art’s moans and hands scrambling to pin you down so all you have to do is take it, you’re doing things all out of order, but this was always going to happen sooner or later. Art is a clumsy manipulator but he’s so handsome… you find yourself agreeing to every frantic declaration flying out of his mouth as he spears his long cock into your sopping wet pussy. You claw red lines into his shoulders and back, and Art nearly creams on the spot. The sting and the fact that you’re so out of it, you’re marking him up, are crossing the wires in his brain. His taut thighs burn with the effort of fucking you so far into the mattress.

You’ll get to cum four more times than he does, and by the end of it you’ll wish you never came at all. Your soul’s goikg to be so far away from your ruined mess of limbs that you won’t notice the sacred promises being muttered into your sweaty hair or pay attention to your phone being out on Do Not Disturb. You’ll be right where you should be, inevitably molded around the shape of his dick and branded by all the love bites that litter your body. You’ll think you passed out during most of them, but you’ll give him a loopy smile, hook your pinky around his, and let yourself melt away.

It feels as if your walls are still clenching around a dick that’s no longer buried to the hilt in them.

“I love you”’s are for early mornings with coffee and pancakes. Gloating to Patrick will be for hours before then, Art blocking him when you’re deep asleep and unable to mend the growing rift between them.

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rafeandonlyrafe · 1 day

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ready

words: 2.1k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, soft!rafe, inexperienced!reader (not a virgin though), reader is briefly described as small chested, p in v sex, mentions of past bad experiences

you feel like you've been kissing rafe for hours, but it's probably only been a few minutes as his lips gently glide against yours. his hands are placed securely at your waist, not venturing any further until you give him permission, even though he's itching to feel your bare skin.

“should we take this upstairs?” rafe asks, his voice a soft hum, sultry and low.

“oh, um-” you freeze, and rafe can feel the change in your body, the way you suddenly stiffen.

“just because wheezie is going to come home soon. we can just kiss, don't have to do anything you don't want to.” rafe quickly clarifies.

“yes, then.” you nod enthusiastically. “absolutely.”

rafe smiles, looping your hands together as he walks you upstairs to his room. you feel your heartbeat speed up, even though rafe assured you that you wouldn't be doing anything you weren't ready for.

“sorry for freaking out for a second earlier.” you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as rafe shuts the door behind you.

“it's fine.” rafe shakes his head. “i should have been more clear. we take this at your pace, baby.”

“thank you.” you loop your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down for a kiss. “who knew rafe cameron could be such a sweeatheart?”

“you bring it out in me, princess, i don't know what to say.” rafe backs you up until the back of your knees hit his bed and you lower yourself down.

“i do have a question though.” rafe hums as he sits himself down next to you. “and im not going to judge you either way, it's just for me to know how to handle things.”

“okay.” you nod, already guessing where this is going.

“are you a virgin?”

“no.” you shake your head. “ive had a couple experiences before but none of them have been… good.” you sigh, thinking back to your first boyfriend who took your virginity on prom night, in all of 30 seconds. “and i haven't had sex in a long time so in a way i kind of feel like a virgin.”

“okay.” rafe nods, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, gently cradling you against his side. “thank you for telling that to me.”

“i… want to, though. with you.”

“there's no rush, i want you too, but we can take our time.” rafe presses a kiss to your head.

“you're not gonna get bored waiting?” you duck your head as you speak, ashamed of the question even as you ask.

“never, babes. you're my girl, yeah? i don't take that lightly. if i wasn't willing to wait, i wouldn't have asked you out in the first place.”

a smile stretches across your cheeks as you hide your face in rafes shirt.

“oh, you're so cute when you're all shy.” rafe laughs, cupping your cheek and lifting your face up to look at him, pressing kisses all over your cheeks and over the bridge of your nose.

“i want you.” you say, chasing rafes lips to connect them.

“you already said that.”

“i mean-” you take a deep breath, considering your decision. “i mean i want you now. im ready.”

“right now? baby if you feel pressured-”

“no, no.” you grip his shirt. “i really want this.”

“okay.” rafe can't help the smile that stretches across his cheeks. “we're taking things slow though, alright?”

you nod, kissing him again as rafe moves you, guiding you to lay back against the pillows. he hovers over you, holding his weight up on his elbows.

rafe pulls back, looking down at you. “you're so beautiful.”

you feel your cheeks flush red as you blush, resisting the urge to cover your face.

“im gonna take my shirt off first, alright? make you feel nice and comfortable.” rafe says.

“you mean make me feel hot and turned on? because that's what happens when you take your shirt off around me.” you giggle.

“oh, i see the way you stare at me when i take you out on the boat.” rafe laughs, placing his knees on either side of your body on the bed, caging you in as he straightens out, pulling his shirt off.

“can i… touch you?” you question. you've hugged rafe before when he's shirtless, but you've never specifically focused on feeling his muscles.

rafe doesn't answer with his words, simply taking your hand and placing it on his abs.

you run your hand over the ridges of his abdomen before moving up, feeling his defined chest, pecks almost as big as your own breasts.

“satisfied?” rafe asks when you lower your hand.

“yeah im… im gonna take my shirt off now.” you tell rafe, wanting to feel rafe touching you, the way your bare skin presses together when he leans back down and kisses you.

rafe moves back, allowing you to pull your tank top off, leaving your bra covering your chest for now.

“so hot, baby.” rafe drops himself over you, kissing you again. you wrap your arms around his shoulders, feeling the way he's so sculpted there too as your hand drifts down his back.

“can i take your bra off?” rafe questions. “only if you want.”

“mhm.” you go to reach behind your back, but rafe moves faster than you, unclipping your bra and sliding the straps down your arms. he leaves you the final decision to pull the cups away.

you swear rafes eyes increase in size as he takes in your bare chest.

“it's okay, you can touch me. i-i want you to touch me.”

rafe nods, hands coming to cover your tits, large palms swallowing them.

“i know they're small-” you begin to explain, but rafe cuts you off.

“they're perfect, baby.” rafe says honestly. you can see him now beginning to tent in his shorts as he stays kneeling above you, hands moving to cup your tits, thumbs running around your nipples before swiping over them.

you gasp, surprised by how good it feels. none of the guys you slept with in the past paid any real attention to making you feel good as rafe continues, watching your nipples harden with every movement.

“we can stop here for today if you like.” rafe says, hands moving to your waist, wrapping around you as he drops once again to press a kiss to your lips.

“no, i don't want to stop.” you admit shyly. “i want you so bad.”

“good, because im hard as hell and if you wanted to stop id definitely have to go take care of myself in the bathroom.” rafes joke diffuses the situation even more as you let out a laugh.

“im just gonna touch you over your shorts for now. if at any point it's too much…” rafe trails off, knowing he's being so extra cautious you probably find it annoying, but he doesn't want today to be added to your list of bad experiences.

rafe moves himself to the side, distracting you with more kisses as his hand drops to spread your legs, fingers gently running over your thighs before moving up higher.

rafe keeps his movements light as he begins to rub your center, increasing the intensity when you moan against his mouth.

“does that feel good?” he smiles down at you, watching your face contort in pleasure.

“in… inside my shorts please.” you take rafes hand and move him one less barrier away. rafe sees your need and immediately begins to rub again, now with just your underwear in the way.

“oh god, you're so wet.” rafe groans, focusing in on your clit as you let out soft moans, aware that you're likely no longer alone in the house.

“i-i need you rafe.”

“yeah.” rafe pulls his hand out, clearly unable to wait as he's straining against the zipper of his shorts.

rafe steps off the bed and you watch in fascination as he undoes his shorts, sliding them off to reveal his incredibly obvious bulge in his underwear before rifling through his nightstand to pull out a condom.

“no complaints.” he says when you open your mouth. “i know you're on birth control but your first time with me is not going to be raw. just in case you don't like it.”

you giggle, rolling your eyes. “i know im gonna like it, rafe.”

“still.” he leans down, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.

you watch intensely as rafes underwear is also pushed off his hips, his cock standing hard and up away from his body.

“do you want me to… suck it or something?”

“if you do that i won't get to fuck you.” it takes you a second to realize what rafe means.

“oh!”

“you just… really turn me on.” he admits.

you lift your hips and push your shorts and underwear down in one go, kicking them off the bed to add to the piles of clothes on the floor

rafe smirks, glad you're growing more and more confident every minute.

rafe lays back down next to you, both turning to the side to face each other.

“are you nervous?” rafe questions, hand falling to your bare hip, rubbing your leg and keeping his eyes locked with yours, despite wanting to look down and see all of you.

“i thought i would be.” you admit softly. “but im not. not with you.”

“im gonna let you control everything at first.” rafe lifts your leg and sets it over his hip, his cock nestling between your thighs.

you close your eyes as you press down, experimenting with the way rafes cock rubs through your folds, having to remember to keep your moans quiet when it bumps against your clit.

“whenever you're ready.” rafe says, his eyes now squeezed shut as he concentrates on holding himself back.

you reach down, grasping rafes cock as you move him against your entrance, angling your hips as you sink forward until he's as far inside of you as he can get in this position.

“just…” rafes hand squeezes at your hip. “stay like that for a second, baby.”

you need a moment to adjust anyways, so you keep your hips still until rafe exhales and nods at you.

you look down between your bodies, watching the way his cock disappears inside of you with every movement.

“god, you feel amazing.” he moans.

“you can move. please.” you whimper. rafe nods again, beginning to rock back and forth, making the mattress squeak underneath you as he meets your thrusts.

the movements may be slow, but you're gradually building up, experimenting by shifting your hips and seeing what feels best.

you let out a sudden moan when you tilt your hips and rafes cock hits a new sensitive spot inside of you.

“no one's ever done that before for you, huh?” rafe smiles at your clear shock and pleasure as he thrusts in and presses the spot again.

“oh fuck.” you whine, head leaning back as rafe carefully moves you onto your back so he can take over.

“you don't know how long ive wanted to see you like this.” rafe says, balancing on his elbows as his hips press into you, keeping the thrusts slow but deep.

“moaning beneath me. god, i would have waited forever for you but im so glad we're doing this now.”

“rafe, stop.” you whine. “you're gonna make me cry and im way too horny to start sobbing.”

rafe laughs, bending down to press a kiss to your forehead before refocusing on your pleasure as he speeds up.

“im gonna touch your clit as i fuck you, baby.” rafe informs you before moving his hand, thumb pressing over your clit as he rubs.

“oh shit!” you squeal before quickly covering your mouth, your hips lifting off the bed as rafe continues to fuck into you.

“are you close?” he questions, glad that you nod, not sure how much longer he can hold off.

rafe pushes his pleasure aside for a bit longer as he presses inside of you, sighing with relief when he feels you tighten around him.

“oh my god, rafe!” you moan as your high suddenly hits, entire body shaking as your pussy pulses around his cock, spurring on rafes own orgasm as he cums with a moan of your name, filling the condom.

he gives you a feel final thrusts, his thumb shakily rubbing your clit through your high until he can't hold himself up any longer, collapsing on the bed to the side of you.

you're both breathing heavily, recovering from the intensity. as soon as rafe can get his muscles to respond to him, he pulls you in close, tucking you against his side.

“so, was i good baby?” he asks, even as your body still shakes with the after waves of your pleasure.

“best ive ever had.” you grin up at him. “by a long shot.”

“just what i like to hear.” rafe bends down to give you a kiss before pushing your hair away from his face and leaning to whisper into your ear. “and you haven't even got to feel my mouth yet. just wait until i eat you out.”

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calcifiedunderland · 3 days

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Part I (here), Part II

Trey Clover vs. Azul Ashengrotto vs. Jamil Viper x GN! Reader

In which the way to the Prefect’s heart is through their stomach! At least, according to three of NRC’s students…

I got the idea from @recreyomakesdoodles , from this post! Thank you so much, hope you liked it!!💕

Tagging people I think would be interested: @aruis4nosleep , @tinseltina

Warnings: food/eating

Notes: I decided to split this into multiple parts because I never have any restraint while writing and this ended up being long. Enjoy :D

———————————————————♣️🐙🐍

“Well, I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Azul pushed his glasses up, balancing a stack of takeout boxes emblazoned with the Mostro Lounge logo on them. Cold blue eyes met Trey’s golden irises. Trey cleared his throat, shifting a heavy picnic basket from one hand to the other. “What brings you here, Azul? I thought you’d be busy at Mostro Lounge…”

Azul snorted, “the Prefect knows to expect me today. Clearly, you are the one intruding.” Earlier that week, he overheard you wailing to your friends about your upcoming History of Magic exam. Apparently, this unit was on Atlantica’s magical history - a topic that was, unfortunately, giving you trouble.

Fortunately, Azul was a mer who grew up learning the history by heart. Naturally he offered you assistance in exchange for having you taste-test some dishes. And how could he not help a poor, unfortunate fellow student like yourself?

Besides, if he wanted to bring along some personally cooked meals to Ramshackle, under the claim that you both would be there ‘for hours, so you may as well try some foods (that I made!) for the upcoming Lounge menu (that I run)!’, that was nobody’s business. And certainly not Clover’s business.

Trey crossed his arms, easily holding the heavy picnic basket like it weighed nothing. Azul could smell the buttery pastries and powdered sugar through the closed basket lid where he stood. “Riddle sent me to give the Prefect an invitation to the next Unbirthday Party. I thought I’d give them some treats to… sweeten the deal.” Though Trey had a disarmingly pleasant smile with the pun, his eyes bored into Azul’s.

Azul frowned. “That couldn’t have been more than a simple text. Aren’t they friends with your first years, as well?” He asked, remembering your first year friends that he’d turned into anemones.

Trey adjusted his glasses and averted his gaze, a telltale deflection sign that Azul didn’t miss. “Well, it’s more official coming from the Vice Housewarden.” “And I suppose the baked goods are complimentary?” Azul sniffed disdainfully at the basket, “Surely, the prefect needs more than pastries. A proper meal,” he emphasized.

Trey’s eyes narrowed, “a basket of baked goods is better than whatever deal you’d have for them,” he nodded to the boxes Azul carried. “Everyone loves a good old fashioned pastry. Can’t say the same for seafood.” Azul opened his mouth to retort, when suddenly both of their ringtones went off.

IM SO SORRY AZUL!!!!! I got caught up with something, can I come over tomorrow?? I likely won’t be done until later, the headmage has me doing stuff 😭

TREY!!! Tysm for the invite, you didn’t have to go out of ur way to give it in person!! ill definitely be there at the party! 😄 sry I’m not there atm, Crowley wanted me to do something for him

Trey frowned, reading your text. Azul huffed, shouldering the stack of food boxes, muttering “looks like today was a loss.” Trey sighed, “well, it can’t be helped…” he made a mental note to put the pastries in the Heartslabyul fridge and just deliver it to you tomorrow, under the guise of ‘checking up on you’ after working for Crowley. The two of them trudged down the path to the Hall of Mirrors, heading back to their dorms.

The two of them walked in silence until Trey abruptly said, “I don’t know what you want with the Prefect, but I hope you have their best intentions at heart.” Azul turned to give Trey a withering look, “I assure you, when it comes to the Prefect, I have nothing but good intentions.” As he stepped into Octavinelle, Azul smirked and muttered, “especially regarding their heart.” Trey lingered for a bit, staring at the Octavinelle mirror with an unreadable expression. “We’ll see about that,” he said aloud in the empty Hall, then headed back to Heartslabyul.

—•—♣️🐙🐍—•—

Meanwhile, you sighed heavily, collapsing onto the chair. The cafeteria was pretty much empty, save for the random student or two. It was already darkening outside, and you were hungry. Crowley wanted you to do something for him just before lunch, and soon half your Saturday was gone running around NRC. You’d even lost track of time, and missed Azul’s study session and Trey dropping in! You groaned, hearing your stomach growl loudly.

“Prefect? What are you doing here?”

You glanced up, seeing Jamil with a large container of tupperware and other small containers. The delicious scent of curries, labneh yogurt cheese, and freshly made pita made your mouth water. Despite yourself, Jamil caught you looking at the boxed-up food more than once.

“…Crowley had me running errands, and I may have skipped lunch…” your voice grew quiet near the end. Jamil raised an eyebrow, then smiled. “I actually ended up making too much food for Kalim,” he said, moving around the table to sit next to you. “There’s enough for an extra person, and I’ve have already eaten.”

Your eyes widened, and Jamil started dishing out some curry and flatbread for you. Bright-colored curry sauce and chickpeas flooded the platter, wafting a delicious scent. As Jamil ripped a piece of pita, your stomach growl loudly. Your face felt warm. Jamil only chuckled, pushing the plate he’d conjured towards you. “What about Kalim?” You asked, feeling bad. Jamil smiled, “Please, go ahead. There’s enough for Kalim and you.” A warm smile grew on your face, and you gave Jamil a one-sided hug before digging in. “Thank you! You’re my savior!”

As he watched you eat, a tender look grew on Jamil’s face. He shifted the food containers so he could watch you while nibbling on some flatbread. It wasn’t difficult to determine that you were off on Crowley’s whims again - with you running around the school and being gone for several hours. With that in mind, it wouldn’t be anyone’s fault if he accidentally made too much food, so he thought he’d drop it off at Ramshackle later. It was sheer luck that you’d dropped by the cafeteria!

You hummed, soaking up some of the leftover curry sauce with your flatbread, “this was delicious, Jamil. Thank you so much.”

Jamil smiled genuinely, but a devious look came into his eyes when you looked back at your plate. “Please, Prefect, allow me. Wait here.” He took the plate, going to the kitchens to box up some food for you to take back. Walking back to you, he handed you the container, “It’s getting late, I can walk you back to Ramshackle.”

The two of you set off, with you holding some of Jamil’s boxes. “This was… really sweet of you, Jamil,” you smiled. You knew Jamil always had his hands full, whether it was taking care of Kalim or managing literally everything else. Maybe the food was making you gush, but you were definitely grateful for the impromptu meal. As you opened the door to Ramshackle, you gingerly handed the boxes back to him.

“Ah, wait,” he shuffled them and held a large one out to you. “This one is yours.” Your eyes widened, “Jamil, this is a lot-“ “Please.” Your eyes met his dark grey irises, and warm gratitude filled your chest. “Jamil, I… I really don’t know what to say. I have to repay you somehow-“ Now that was what he wanted to hear.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to try making some new dishes,” he glanced at you. “I’ve been needing someone to taste test them, and Kalim won’t be available…” You nodded eagerly, “Of course! I’d love to help you!” You said your goodbyes, and as the door shut behind you, Jamil had a calculating smirk on his face. Oh yeah, it’s all coming together.

————————————————————♣️🐙🐍

Thanks for being patient everyone!! Hope you enjoyed this part, reblogs and comments are forever appreciated 💕

lmk if anyone wants to be added to the taglist! Take care shrimpies~ 😘

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86espresso · 3 days

Note

can I get the "too much communication" with jack?

I think that's what your last post was for 😭

shut up (with affection!) | jh86

sum: in which jack likes to hear himself talk

prompt: too much communication (💀)

warnings: smut, angst, fluff ☺️ use of y/n :/ ,use of she/her pronouns for reader, short

a/n: help yes, im sorry i wasn’t clear with what i wanted but if you haven’t noticed im pretty small on hockeyblr 😔 so i didn’t think anyone would actually ask but omg so happy you did ❤️ also not sure why im seeing this decades later.

—

LIGHT shone through the curtains in Y/N’s bedroom, though that wasn’t what woke her up.

An arm was slung across her waist, legs were tangled with hers, a face was buried in the crevice of her neck, and soft lips were moving up and down her shoulder. She felt something go off in her stomach. She could get used to this.

“Awake, angel?” Jack’s rough morning voice reached Y/N’s ears and could’ve just melted right then. He had been with her for close to ten months now; meaning they had practically moved in with eachother, she was at every home game, he was at every soccer match, she had a drawer at his, he had a toothbrush at hers. They were slowly intertwining in each other’s lives and neither of them wanted to stop anytime soon.

And then he started.

The endless rambling that half annoyed, half endeared Y/N.

“Wait no- I mean that I should use a different word instead of pretty because you’re so many things and you like when i use long words, don’t you ? I should-”

“Jack, my love, slow down,” Y/N says, facing him and cupping his cheek. His hair is tousled, eyes droopy, bottom lip jutted out, and brows furrowed. He’s shirtless and the sunlight bathes him in a soft golden light. Her heart skips a beat as she assures him that complimenting her in any way would melt her even if it was the same thing, every day, for the rest of their lives.

—

The room was dark and hot and the bed rocked with Jack’s movements. He had one hand loose around Y/N’s throat and the other supporting her leg that was thrown over his shoulder.

It was all going fine until

“Y’know what Trev told me the other day.”

Y/N’s eyes snapped open. What the fuck???

His hair was falling in his eyes and a thin sheet of sweat covered his body. He looked so good and was doing so well.

“Jack? What-” she stopped short when he thrusted particularly roughly making her jaw drop and her eyes roll to the back of her head. Jack wasn’t phased though.

“He- told me how-oh fuck I’m so close, baby-” Y/N quickly shut him up by yanking his mouth down to hers. She really didn’t want to hear how fucking Zegras did whatever in her current position.

—

Y/N stood off to the side as Jack abruptly wraps up the post game interview after giving curt responses. She raised her eyebrows; normally it could get hard to not make him overshare.

Jack had already showered and changed into a delicious suit that was for sure coming off as soon as they got home.

“Hi, angel.” Y/N got on her tip toes to press a soft kiss against Jack’s lips. He wrapped his arms around her and sighed, pulling back and resting his forehead against hers. “Hey.”

It was short and quiet and so unlike Jack (even after a loss) and she hated it.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Y/N reached forward to cup his cheek and lightly caresses it with her thumb. He leans against her hand and his eyes droop.

“Nothin’, sweets. Just tired.” Y/N knew there had to be more, she could tell by the way his fingers were fiddling with eachother and the almost unnoticeable clinch of his eyebrows.

“C’mon, baby, talk to me,” Y/N softly murmurs, Jack’s new behavior doesn’t feel natural at all. He was so full of energy all the time (definitely because of the three hour naps) that she didn’t even have to match it if she was tired; he had enough for both of them.

“D’you-,” he pauses and steps back, removing his arms from her and running a quick hand through his hair. “Do you think I talk too much? Or I over share? Does it bother you?” His brows furrow deeper and Y/N’s heart stutters. She understood why he got so closed off all of a sudden. Her tough, strong boyfriend had such a sweet heart she could cry.

“Oh hon, well yes you do but it’s never bothered me. I actually really love it. You’re able to talk so much all the time and there’s nothing I love more than the sound of your voice.” Y/N watches as Jack’s expression softens. She steps closer and weaves her arms around him from the inside of his suit jacket.

“I love that you’re so expressive. I love how you just say anything no matter, I love how-” Y/N pauses. The three words dancing on the tip of her tongue, waiting and anticipating. She takes a deep breath and sneaks a glance at Jack, who had the hint of a smile that reached his eyes.

“I love you.”

He goes limp in her arms.

“Y/N I-”

“One second. Let me finish.” Y/N steps back and fully looks into his eyes. “And I know you love me too. You know why, angel? Because you tell me every single day. Every sweet nothing, all the random babbling about how I’m so sweet to you at any given time, gave me enough courage to say it right now.”

Jack looked like he could cry; Y/N didn’t get the chance to see it though, because of the soul crushing hug he just pulled her into.

“I love you so much more.”

“I might get dry as fuck during sex though.”

“Yeah? Wanna take me up on that?”

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #ellie writes 🙂‍↔️

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reverie-starlight · 3 days

Text

{the proposal- kuroo}

on today’s episode of “rev accidentally disregards the polls she made”, we have this fic :3 I actually adore this one, it was so fun to write!! hope you enjoy <3 also… thank you sm for 1k followers 😭🫶🏻 that’s huge, I appreciate everyone sm 🥹

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. fluff fluff fluff. alcohol mentions, drunk reader. dialogue heavy at the start.

“You need to propose to me.”

Kuroo, who is enjoying his drink, begins to choke. “I what?”

You roll your eyes with a barely concealed smile.

“Not for real, silly, just a fake one.”

He looks at you like you’ve gone insane. “I’m not following.”

“We’re broke university students, do you really think we can afford to pay for more than two drinks tonight? If you propose, I bet people would make a drunken mistake and offer to buy us a celebration round.” You wiggle your eyebrows at him as he continues to give you that same incredulous look.

“That’s-“ he cuts himself off before he can finish that thought and starts with a new one. “I doubt that would work. I mean, maybe at a restaurant with free dessert, but a bar? Really?”

“I’ve seen it done in stranger places!” You defend yourself. “Besides, you’ve been sipping on your drink for the past 25 minutes. If the ice had poison in it, you’d be dead by now,” you lean back and cross your arms.

Your boyfriend just shakes his head. “Your mind is a very interesting place. Alright, fine. We’ll do it, but if it doesn’t work that’s going to be really embarrassing. Hand me your ring, I’ll do it when more people are around.”

You only have to wait another ten minutes before a group of business men having a meeting a couple of tables over appear to be drunk enough to invest in young love.

Your boyfriend nods once to signal that he’s going to do it and soon enough he’s on one knee, fake tears forming at the corners of his eyes and a dusting of pink on his cheeks that make you want to kiss them.

(Your heart jumps that the thought that he could do this for real one day).

“You’re the love of my life,” he begins, and you make a mental note that he either has a bright future in acting or his drink really is too strong, despite his insistence that he could handle it earlier.

A lady one table over gasps and draws more attention to the performance in front of the customers.

“And I absolutely adore every single thing about you. I had a whole plan for this, but with the way you’re looking tonight, I can’t wait a second longer. We’ve managed to get many years together already, and I’d be honoured to spend the rest of our lives just like this. Will you marry me?”

You’re genuinely touched at his words and the sincerity in his tone almost makes you forget it’s fake.

Not wanting to make your audience wait much longer, you make a big show of nodding your head and jumping into his crouched form with a loud “yes!”

Drunken cheers are only background noise while you press against his chest. His heartbeat eliminates the chance of you focusing on anything but him.

Kuroo tips his head down to whisper, “think we pulled it off?”

You nod against him and start to get up. He looks over to see one of the drunk business men coming over to greet you.

“Congratulations on your engagement! Let us buy the happy couple some drinks!”

The man’s face is flushed and he gestures to his table. “Order whatever you’d like, it’ll be put on our tab.”

You fake surprise. “Oh my goodness, that’s very generous of you, but we could never take advantage of your kindness like that!”

Beside you, your ‘fiancé’ stifles a laugh but the man doesn’t notice. “No, I insist! You should celebrate.”

This time Kuroo takes over. “Ah… well, thank you, sir. Rest assured we won’t go too crazy.”

The man laughs and claps him on the back. “What a polite couple of kids you are! Reminds me of me and my wife,” he winks before heading back to his table, whistling some tune.

You spin around and look up at your boyfriend with a smug grin. “So what are we getting first?”

A couple of hours later, you’re both stumbling into your campus apartment, giggling and trying to shush each other despite not having any other roommates.

You somehow manage to get through your night routines and fall back into your bed soon after. You’re a far more wasted than Kuroo is (he always drinks less than you to be able to take care of you), so he tries to get you to sip on some water.

He watches you with a silly grin as you fiddle with your “engagement” ring. You’ve since slipped it back onto your index finger where it originally was this evening, but you move it back to your ring finger and fiddle with it.

“I think…” your words are slightly slurred and laced with sleep. “I mean, I know… that I don’t want my real engagement ring to be diamond.”

His grin widens so much his cheeks begin to hurt. “No? So what will it be, baby?”

You form your own smile. “I’m sure I’ll love whatever you come up with. You know me best after all.”

He forces you to take another sip of water when your words don’t get any less coherent. While you drink he thinks of the ruby ring tucked away somewhere at Kenma’s house. You’re far too good at sniffing out clues and he’s never been good at keeping secrets from you.

You’re still in university, it’s far too soon to get engaged for real- you’ve both always said you wanted to wait until you’re done with school- but he’s been saving up for that ring since high school. he’s always knows you would be the one for him.

So when the time comes he’ll be ready. With a speech much better than whatever he said tonight.

“Alright, let’s get some sleep. You’re going to have the worst hangover tomorrow, you haven’t had that much to drink in a while.”

You tug at his wrist before he can shut the lamp off. “Wait, don’t you want to celebrate our engagement?”

“Sleep, baby.”

You pout a bit. “Don’t you think we celebrated enough tonight?”

You stare at him and he sighs. “There’s plenty of time for celebrating our fake engagement some more tomorrow,” he shuts the lamp off and wrangles you down with him. “Now it’s time for sleep.”

“‘m not tired,” you mumble, obviously lying. “I could go all night.”

You settle onto your pillow and he strokes your cheek. “I know, sweetheart, you’re a fighter.”

You nod as you begin to doze off.

He notices the ring still on your finger and he smiles softly.

The hangover you’ll be sporting tomorrow will definitely have been worth it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ty for reading!!! i hope you enjoyed <3

tagging: @emmyrosee @luvring @dira333 @tetzoro

#kuroo x reader #kuroo x reader fluff #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsurou x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader fluff #haikyuu x gender neutral reader

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candysunoo · 12 hours

Text

ೋ◦ ❀❀ enhypen as a

bridgerton story ❀❀ ◦ೋ•

♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹

ೋ◦dearest gentle-reader ◦ೋ•

❀my name is lady whistledown. you do not know me, and rest assured, you never shall. but be forewarned dear reader, I certainly know you.❀

───── · · ୨୧ · · ─────

❀ now, before we shall begin dear gentle-reader there is something you must know. this author has no rights to the Bridgerton stories/ series. thus all of the following are loosely based on them. this author also does not know any of the boys personally; and thus this is not an accurate portrayal or representation of them and their lively hood. thank you in advance dearest gentle-reader. please enjoy. sincerely, your lady whistledown (aka kei ;D) ❀

♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹

ೋ◦ ❀❀ Lee Heeseung - Queen Charlotte ❀❀◦ೋ• 18+ MDNI

❀❀❀ King Lee Heeseung, 3rd of his name, the ruler of Great Britain and Ireland, your new husband.

───── · · ୨୧ · · ─────

❀❀❀ When your tiny island kingdom falls apart under the scrutiny of the large countries around it your brother has no choice but to marry you off. Marry you off to none other than the King of Great Britain and Ireland. Lee Heesesung ascended the throne young after his father tragically died. Years after finally coming of age, his mother decides it’s time for him to marry and produce the next heir, despite his covertly concealed mental illness. When you arrive it seems as nothing can go your way. From mistakingly talking down to the king after being caught trying to run away, to what was supposed to be your honeymoon night your ladies maid explained. But must you know dearest reader, that love does indeed conquer all and secrets don’t stay secrets for long.

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ೋ◦ ❀❀ expected release date: may 22nd, 2024❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ chapter content warning: strangers - to kinda friends- to lovers, traditional gender roles, 1700’s societal expectations, arranged/ forced marriage, bitchy mother-in-law, mentions of parental death, mentions of mental health and feeling like an outsider, medical malpractice, mention of feeling unloved and trapped in a marriage, SMUT, sex (lots of it), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, put that wiener in a blanket), breeding kink , praise, mention of pregnancy and birth, angst and fluff, idiots in love, MORE TO BE ADDED ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ word count: TBD ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ link to read here! ❀❀◦ೋ•

♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹

ೋ◦ ❀❀ Park Jongseong - The Duke & I ❀❀◦ೋ• 18+ MDNI

❀❀❀ Park Jongseong aka Jay, first of his name, The Duke of Hastings.

───── · · ୨୧ · · ─────

Dearest gentle reader, haven’t you heard? The honorable l/n family is finally debuting the oldest daughter. A vision of beauty, just as her mother was, any young man would be happy to have her on his arm.

That being said being the eldest daughter of eight children can be tough. Especially as you are now of age to enter society. It was exhausting really, the trips to the modieste for the hours of standing for the dropping of hems and the countless arguments between your eldest brother, the head of the family, and your mother. After your father died your brother had become especially protective of you and your other siblings; much to the dismay of your mother. The protectiveness only gets worse when you catch the eye of not only the queen but also a certain Duke who is determined to stay out of the clawing hands of desperate mamas and their daughters.

───── · · ୨୧ · · ─────

ೋ◦ ❀❀ expected release date: May 29th, 2024 ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ chapter content warning: fake dating- to true love, traditional gender roles, 1700’s/1800’s societal expectations, mention of childhood trauma, mention of parental death, small mention of attempted assault (nothing graphic y/n gets forcibly kissed, it does not go into detail), retired manwhore jay, anxiety, traditional courting, mention of fighting/ light violence, forced to married - destined to stay, mention of having children, lies of omission, SMUT, corruption kink, virgin y/n, jay talking you through it, wet dreams, MORE TO BE ADDED ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ word count: TBD ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ link to read here! ❀❀◦ೋ•

♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹

ೋ◦ ❀❀ Sim Jaeyun - Romancing Mr. Bridgerton ❀❀◦ೋ•

❀❀❀ Sim Jaeyun aka Jake, first of his name, 3rd eldest son of his family, and your longtime friend and crush.

───── · · ୨୧ · · ─────

Dearest gentle-reader, ever since the successful seasons of not only his older brothers but sisters as well all eyes have fallen on the 3rd eldest son of the Sim family. Will this be the season he finds a presentable young lady to hold him down to the mainland; or will he end up on yet another voyage across the sea?

Ever since you can remember you have been friends Sim Hyunjin, the middle daughter of the Sim family. Also since you can remember you have had a massive crush on her younger brother Jaeyun, or as he liked to be called Jake. Everyone who knew you knew that you were nothing less than a soft, quiet, wallflower. Always sticking close to the edge of the room, alone and watching the courting couples dance the night away. Jake was always so kind in that regard; pulling you away from the wall and to the dance floor but never letting it get further. Never officially courting you or even giving you the curtesy of signing your dance card. However when you overhear a conversation not meant for you everything changes. Will Jake be too late to fix what he had broken?

───── · · ୨୧ · · ─────

ೋ◦ ❀❀ expected release date: TBD ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ chapter content warning: ft. Loossemble/ Loona’s Kim Hyunjin as his sister (they share the same birthday lol), friends- to strangers/ acquaintances- to friends again- to lovers, traditional gender roles, 1700’s-1800’s societal expectations, mentions of hard family situations, mentions of feeling alone and like an outsider, reader gets called names (by Jake he doesn’t really mean it?), flirting, jealousy, heartbreak, fights between friends, POSSIBLE SMUT I HAVEN’T DECIDED YET, MORE TO BE ADDED ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ word count: TBD ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ link to read here! ❀❀◦ೋ•

♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹

ೋ◦ ❀❀ Park Sunghoon - The Viscount who Loved Me ❀❀◦ೋ• 18+ MDNI

❀❀❀ Park Sunghoon, first of his name, eldest child of his family, The Viscount. The bane of your existence.

───── · · ୨୧ · · ─────

Dearest gentle-reader, after the ever successful season of his younger sister last year Park Sunghoon has declared himself available to be wed. Making him the most desirable young gentleman of this season. May we wish luck to the other young men, as the nagging mamas and their equally difficult daughters shall be all over the Viscount.

Being the eldest son of a prestigious family was no walk in the park. Especially for Park Sunghoon who had taken over as the head of his family after his father’s tragic death. After the past year his mama had been insistent on him marring. Especially after she found out about a certain opera singer and the way he funded her lifestyle. Entering the marriage market his wasn��t looking for love. He was looking for a woman with at least half a head on her shoulders and child- bearing hips. No need for anything else. He just needed a wife. You and your sister had just arrived in town, sponsored by an old family friend to join this marriage season. Staying with Lady Lee Chae-rin was nothing less than a dream. She was kind and understanding towards you, your sister and your mother. Strong willed and outspoken you were determined to find someone for your sister to wed, if not for her, for your entire family. However what happens when alls not fair in love and war?

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ೋ◦ ❀❀ expected release date: TBD❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ chapter content warning: enemies- to lovers, mention of parental death, traditional gender roles, 1700’s-1800’s societal expectations, arguments, extortion(not by Sunghoon or reader), mentions of family issues, shitty grandparents, rushed engagement, technical cheating (Sunghoon is with readers sister), angst to fluff, Sunghoon is a world class rake, breaking off an engagement SMUT, hate sex, light degradation, some praise, public sex (in a private garden no one else is there)❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ word count: TBD ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ link to read here! ❀❀◦ೋ•

♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹

ೋ◦ ❀❀ Kim Sunoo - An offer from a Gentleman ❀❀◦ೋ• 18+ MDNI

❀❀❀ Kim Sunoo, first of his name, the 2nd son of his prestigious family, an artist, and perhaps your Prince Charming?

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Dearest gentle-reader, love has a funny way of finding its way around the ‘ton. Of course, when there are so many eligible young men and women how could it not? This author happens to think that one of the eligible young men of the ‘ton may find love where he least expects it. Or rather with whom unexpected love comes with.

When your mother died it felt as if the warmth of the universe had gone with her. The flowers no longer grew and the wind no longer sang a tune as it blew. As you approached the age of your debute into society you had some hope. However it was all crushed into small bits when your father married Seo Minhae. The literal devil in disguise. After that her and her ill-mannered daughter moved into and made you a servant in your own home. Pushed out of your room and into the basement, forced to do housework and cook you were treated as nothing. Finally reaching your breaking point you snuck out of the house. Finding yourself at a masquerade ball and in the arms of a tall, slim, dark haired man. Feeling like royalty and like you were on top of the world you had the night of your life. That is until the clock struck midnight.

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ೋ◦ ❀❀ expected release date: TBD ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ chapter content warning: strangers- to lovers, Cinderella type content, traditional gender roles, 1700’s - 1800’s societal expectations, mention of parental death, awful evil stepmother and step sisters, running away, slight escapism, mention of depression and slight religious imagery, masquerade ball, reader is implied to be shorter than Sunoo, abrupt abandonment, angst and fluff, SMUT, soft sex, unprotected sex( wrap it before you tap it, put that wiener in a blanket), praise, dirty talk, overall sweet and fluffy, MORE TO BE ADDED ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ word count: TBD ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ link to read here! ❀❀◦ೋ•

♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹

ೋ◦ ❀❀ Yang Jungwon - It’s in His Kiss ❀❀◦ೋ•

❀❀❀ Yang Jungwon, first of his name, an entitled aristocrat just like the rest; but could there possibly be more lurking underneath his greed for inheritance?

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Dearest gentle-reader, the time has come for the youngest daughter of the l/n family to make her debut into society. Though between you and I founder has it that the youngest of the l/n family is too much to handle when it comes to romance. Loud and outspoken one can only hope the youngest will find someone suitable for her.

Yang Jungwon was the eldest child in his family. He was born for greatness. He planned his whole life as he seen fit on the promise of his inheritance. You however were the youngest daughter, loud, outspoken, intelligent and brash. Yang Jungwon could hardly stand you. That is until he needs your help of course. After his father has taken over the family’s business and title he didn’t seem to want to give it up. Yang Jungwon didn’t know what to do with himself. After all what grounds does his father have to deny him his birthright? Finding a journal from his long dead grandfather, Jungwon finds himself in a bind; the journal is written in an entirely different language and could possibly hold the solution for his predicament. However, the only person he knows who can remotely translate it, even if it’s not perfect, is you. The one person his calm and quiet self can not stand to be around for long periods of time.

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ೋ◦ ❀❀ expected release date: TBD ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ chapter content warning: acquaintances- to friends- to lovers, shitty parents, mention of parental death, Jungwon is technically an orphan, threats of disinheriting, mean comments (towards reader not by jungwon), reader is a bit much for Jungwon at times, overall fluffy, heavy petting, make out session, LIGHT SMUT( nothing too in depth just an after scene) MORE TO BE ADDED ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ word count: TBD ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ link to read here! ❀❀◦ೋ•

♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹

ೋ◦ ❀❀ Nishimura Riki - On the way to the Wedding ❀❀◦ೋ•

❀❀❀ Nishimura Riki aka Niki, first of his name, the youngest son in his family, trapped between the glamorous dream of love at first sight and the harshness of reality.

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Dearest gentle-reader, do you know that true love conquers all? Well this season we are in for a treat, the youngest of the Nishimura family finally has plans on marrying. This old author can’t help but wonder what shenanigans this season will hold.

Nishimura Riki was the youngest of eight children. He had grown up watching all of his sibling find true and meaningful relationships. That was all he wanted for himself. Riki believed in love at first sight. Especially when he saw her Danielle Marsh, your best friend. When his gaze first saw her it was as if he had been struck with Cupid’s arrow. It went so deep in his heart he couldn’t breathe, the entire world was stopped as he watched her from afar. However that didn’t last for long as he witnessed her approach another man, fluttering her eyelashes and giggling at him.

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ೋ◦ ❀❀ expected release date: TBD ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ chapter content warning: love triangle, love at first sight, unrequited love- to true love, idiots in love, “let me help you help her”, breaking up engagements, mentions of family issues, love confessions in a garden, heavy petting make out session, ‼️NO SMUT‼️, angst with happy ending, MORE TO BE ADDED ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ word count: TBD ❀❀◦ೋ•

ೋ◦ ❀❀ link to read here! ❀❀◦ೋ•

♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹ ♡ ₊˚⊹

❀ i hope you all look forward to reading the stories! i‘ll update the content warnings as i finish the stories! please ignore any mistakes i may have made as i will start to go through and correct them! also ignore the bad formatting i did it on mobile 😭 - kei ❀

‼️‼️ ©️ @candysunoo 2024 DO NOT copy, repost or translate without permission ‼️‼️

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whimsyeo · 2 days

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perfect for you

જ⁀➴ jeong yunho x fem!reader (ft. seonghwa)

༄ yunho prepares the perfect date to finally pop the question to you. absolutely nothing goes as planned.

wc; 2.7k

cw; failed marriage proposal, established relationship, absolute pure fluff, minor injury (reader), slight mention of blood, yunho’s trying his best okay</3

notes; on a writing kick here lately, and i had to write something sweet to make up for my last angsty yunho fic! small spoiler: he cries this time haha :,)

🎧 sunlight by hozier & 18 by one direction

Yunho had been planning this night for weeks. With the help of resident hopeless romantic, his close friend Seonghwa, he was certain the preparations couldn't of gone any better.

A romantic dinner followed by a walk in the park to a decided upon clearing, where you two could watch the stars together. Then, while you were distracted by the constellations, he would get down on one knee and ask you the question that's been weighing on his mind and even heavier on his heart for as long as he's known you.

Truly, he's known all along. Blurted it out, too, before he could stop himself on what was just your very second date together. That he could imagine himself marrying you. He had turned red in the face from the blunder while you only giggled. He was relieved his declaration hadn't bothered you at all, and spurred on by the sound of your unabashed joy, he felt all the more assured of his feelings.

Seonghwa had suggested not doing anything too out of the ordinary from your regular date nights to not draw any suspicion. Yunho agreed with this, as difficult as it was not to pounce on you from sheer excitement after finally seeing you in the dress he had bought you just for this evening. You both occasionally coordinated the other for your respective planned date nights, so you'd had no qualms about wearing what he had picked out for you. You looked a dream in the dark red fabric, the color suiting you perfectly and the fit even better than Yunho could've imagined (women's sizing was a complete mystery to him, and so he felt once again grateful to have had Seonghwa's help).

He finds himself staring at the expanse of your bare shoulders when you call him on it, his gaze snapping to meet your's with what can only be a blinding smile. He can't hide his enthusiasm in the slightest, but given your past comparisons of him to that of a hyperactive puppy on just any regular day, he's hopeful that his demeanor comes as no surprise to you. The star gazing would be new for you both, but otherwise, you didn't seem the slightest bit privy to his actual plans. He feels positive that the night is already going so well.

Until it doesn't.

"Sunday?" Yunho asked, brows pulled together in confusion. "Are you sure? I'm positive I made the reservation for Saturday."

Yunho pats down his pants, the weight of the ring in his front pocket suddenly feeling so much heavier, and sighs when he can't find the familiar imprint of his phone. Of course, he'd left it in his car.

"I'm sorry, sir," the hostess says, tapping on the screen in front of her. "Your reservation was made for the 21st."

"Today's the 20th?" He mumbles to himself. He had prepared for everything so thoroughly, how could he have gotten the actual date wrong?

"It happens, love," you reassure from beside him. He glances over as you rub his arm, an unwavering smile still present on your face. "There's an Italian place across the street. I'm pretty sure they're reservation optional."

Yunho relaxes at your quick thinking. He had felt himself begin to spiral, already believing the whole night was ruined because he somehow messed up this one little thing. He realizes he shouldn't let a small mix up change the entire course of the night, so he nods, giving you an appreciative grin as he agrees.

The place you mentioned is, in fact, directly across from your usual date spot. Yunho never paid it much mind, as you two only ever came to this side of town for the same restaurant every time. But standing outside of it now, the building is just as inviting. Warm lighting shining through the iron windows and then the door when he holds it open for you. The blend of aromas from where you enter is pleasant, and he almost feels silly for nearly panicking over something so honestly small. It was a shame the same restaurant he'd officially asked you out in wouldn't be apart of your proposal story now, but while you appreciated those kinds of sentimental attachments as much as he did, he knew better than to think it would actually change anything for you.

(Yunho had asked you before about what your dream proposal might look like. He had imagined something like a ferris wheel ride, or watching the fireworks together on a warm summer night. A customary dish from your dream travel destination or maybe a home cooked picnic.

"You could propose to me with a paper ring and I'd still say yes," you told him so easily. As if your words didn't make his heart nearly leap entirely out of his chest and run home to you, it's true holder, from the deep affection that floods him.

The topic of marriage wasn't uncharted territories for you both. You talked about it before as something you would equally want whenever the timing is right. Yunho only ever held out for your sake, really. In his heart of hearts he'd always known it belonged with you.

Unable to contain the love he feels any longer, he pressed a firm kiss onto your cheek, "I just want it to be perfect for you. All you've ever dreamed of."

Yunho means it with his whole being. You could ask for the world and he'd find a way to give it to you, or at least run to the very ends of the Earth trying. Never giving up on his search unless you were the one to then tell him to.

You sit up suddenly, him pouting at the loss of warmth by his side while you turn to him seriously. Cupping either side of his face as your eyes pour into his, you make absolute sure that your words are heard loud and clear.

"You are everything I've ever dreamed of, Yunho.")

You're sat comfortably in a booth meant for two when the waiter brings your food, you both having settled for variations of the same pasta dish. The smell is just as inviting as when you first walked it.

As Yunho always does, he waits for you to begin eating first. It's only after you take a bite that he then picks up his own fork, and as he's bringing it to his mouth, he notices your gaze fixed on him.

"What?" He asks, nonchalant. He takes the bite off the fork while your shoulder shake with barley contained laughter. His chewing slows to a stop as the realization dawns on him. He looks down at his plate, a frown creasing between his brows. "Oh. This tastes horrible."

Your giggles break through at that, his head shooting up at the sound and a grin taking over his face on it's own accord.

"Yeah," you agree, smiling despite your words. "It does."

Yunho can't help but chuckle as well, and before long you're both unable to contain your equally loud laughter. Yunho can't find it in himself to be upset at yet another unexpected bump in the road when you just find it so funny.

It's a while before you two are able to look at each other again without laughing, and once you can, Yunho suggests taking your chances on the food vendors you had passed coming inside. Street skewers sound like fine dining compared to the over salted yet still bland pasta in front of you, so you agree.

The chicken skewers are in fact a lot tastier. You and Yunho share your respective two before your walking down the same street as before, interlaced hands swinging between you.

Dinner was unfortunate, but the second half at least was completely out of Yunho's control. He feels better because of that and your easy going reaction to it all. In the future, he imagines you too cracking up over it again, about how the night he proposed was so far from perfect but ended as happily as ever. He can't physically smile any wider at the thought of what's to come, so he squeezes your hand in barley contained excitement.

He can no longer deny the nerves twisting in his stomach once more. The actual proposal was the one thing that could absolutely not go wrong. He couldn't picture in any way that it could - you were a few minutes walk away from the park it was meant to happen, and he could still feel the weight of the ring that he had no way of forgetting in his pocket. Surely it would be smooth sailing from here.

Yunho's steps stutter as he recognizes what sounds suspiciously like thunder rumbling overhead. He huffs a laugh, because there's no way - he must be just so on edge that he's imagining things now. The weather was the one thing he had worried about the most and planned carefully around from the beginning, constantly checking the forecast all morning just to reassure himself. It'd read as a zero percent chance for rain the whole day. No signs of a drizzle at any point this week, even.

But then the first drop falls, and Yunho swears this must be a joke. He tilts his head up as the rain starts, picking up momentum a lot quicker with every passing second. You come to the realization just as he does, shoulders rising as a surprised gasp leaves your lips.

"Let's get you inside," he says, glancing around for any kind of overhang. The closest one he sees is just up ahead, a little further into your walk and closer to the parking lot his car is in.

Determined to at least get you out of the rain before deciding his next course of action, he tugs on your arm. The rain only falls harder with every hurried step you both take, and even if your positively soaked already, Yunho tries to pull you along quickly. Belatedly taking into account how damp the sidewalk has already gotten too, until you almost entirely slip out of his hold and onto your knees on the concrete.

He manages to stop you from completely face planting, but doesn't miss your slight wince as he helps you back to your feet. Yunho decides the overhang is a lost cause and you're better off going straight to the car instead. So, with hurried but more cautious steps, he takes you straight there.

You're both equally drenched by the time he helps you into the passenger seat, and rounds the car to his driver's side. He breathes a sigh of relief once he's finally out of the frigid rain, and quickly cranks up the car to get the heat started before you get sick. He flicks on the overhead lights as he turns to check on you.

"Are you-" Yunho starts to ask, but his gaze falls onto you knee that presumably had hit the ground after your fall. The other came out unscathed, luckily, but he doesn't feel the least bit better when your left knee is scrapped enough to have small droplets of blood forming. "Oh, love, you're bleeding..."

"I'm okay," you reassure, a smile on your lips despite the angry redness of your knee. "It's just a little scratch."

Yunho still feels terrible, even as your sat on the bathroom sink while he dabs at the scrapes with feather like touches. The cotton ball in his hand hardly makes any contact with the wounds, and you can't help but laugh softly at his overly careful antics.

"I don't know if that's doing much of anything," you tease lightheartedly, hoping to ease some of the crease between his brows.

It does no such thing, "I don't want to hurt you even more."

You sigh, "Yunho, baby..." His frown is still fixated on your wounded knee, so you gently cup his chin to encourage his attention back to you. "Look at me. I'm okay, I promise."

You bring your right hand to hold the other side of his jaw, holding firm eye contact to ensure your words stick. Presumably they do, but you don't anticipate Yunho's own filling with tears in matter of seconds.

"I ruined everything," he mumbles, attempting to blink away the wetness clouding his vision. It doesn't work, and the first tear makes a pitiful trail down cheek, tugging on your heart as it goes.

"What?" You register his words, mirroring his frown. "Baby, you did nothing wrong."

Yunho stands up straight, running a hand through his damp hair as he begins to ramble, "Tonight was supposed to be perfect for you. Hyung helped me plan everything and it all seemed so nice but then absolutely everything that could've went wrong did and then I made you trip and - and I just want marry you but now you're hurt because of me and I-"

"Yun," you cut him off with a careful hand on his shoulder. "You want to marry me?"

Yunho freezes, his brain catching up to his mouth and he groans, "I really did ruin everything."

You sigh, lifting your hands back up to hold Yunho's shoulders firmly in place.

"Ask me," you simply say.

Yunho sputters for a moment, searching your expression for any hint of upset or disappointment. He doesn't know how to feel that he finds none, only the slight quirk at the end of your lips, pushing an all knowing grin.

"What?" He asks, the fresh tear tracks on his cheeks causing a painful twist in your chest. You reach up to gently dab the wetness away, directing him a warm smile.

"Do you have the ring on you?" You ask instead.

Stunned, Yunho scrambles to pat down his pockets. The one thing that hadn't gone completely wrong all night - he didn't forget the ring. He pulls the velvet black box out of his back pocket. He holds it in his hand, staring blankly at you.

"Well?" You probe, crossing your arms over your chest. "Are you going to ask me?"

Yunho blinks dumbly as he comes to understand. He feels himself wanting to cry again for an entirely different reason. Biting back his own grin, he lowers himself to one knee - not an easy feat given your compact apartment bathroom. His back foot hits the wall and he's nearly in your lap by the end of it, but you're both too giddy to care.

"My love," he starts, feeling unsure. "Tonight did not go how I envisioned. At all. But it did reaffirm everything I already knew. I've always known, and right now I believe. In us and our future, more than anything. Will you-"

"Yes," you cut him off, unable to wait another second. "Yes, Yunho, God, yes."

You throw your arms around his neck, laughing and shaking and feeling the happiest you've ever felt. Yunho laughs as well, encircling his arms around your waist and pressing a kiss against your bare shoulder.

"Can you let me finish?" He teases easily, feeling a thousand times lighter and happier himself. You nod against his shoulder and huff a laugh of your own.

"Right, sorry," you pull back with a sniffle, wiping under your wet eyes. "Please continue."

Yunho laughs, his eyes filling with tears of joy as he opens the box back between you, "Will you marry me?"

A swarm of butterflies erupt inside of you, a feeling you haven't stopped experiencing since meeting Yunho all those years ago, and you nods hurriedly, "Yes. Yes, I'll marry you, Yunho."

His face nearly splits in two with the grin that takes over his features. He wastes no time pulling the ring from the box and slipping it onto your finger, heart warming at the perfect fit.

It's beautiful, practically glimmering under your overhead bathroom lighting, but all you want right now is to be in Yunho's arms once more.

So you toss yourself back into his embrace, holding on like your life and mind and heart depends on it. He clutches onto you just as tightly, pressing kiss after kiss into your still damp hair.

Yunho needs to finish cleaning your knee. He also wants to make you take a shower and strip of your wet clothes before a cold really sets in and so he can proper bandage the wound after. But for now, this is all he wants. To be holding the love of his life and now fiancée at the end of a long day that, despite everything, had turned out even more perfect than he could've ever imagined.

Yunho knew he could look forward to even more bad days, so long as he always had you to come home to at the end of it all.

#whimsyworks #yunho x reader #yunho fluff #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #jeong yunho x you #jeong yunho x reader #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #yunho reactions #yunho imagines #yunho x you #yunho scenarios

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laroserie · 3 days

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— Various x-men characters dating a non-mutant!reader

— characters ; Scott Summers, Peter Maximoff, Kurt Wagner, Hank McCoy

— version with others characters ; not out yet

— warning ; no particular tw. talk about self estimee and doubt. (as always author has not started reading the comics and their knowledge come from the different xmen cartoon and my hazy memories of the film <3) ( also no cartoon gif for peter because i couldn't find any ... is he even in any of the xmen cartoons ), author decided that Peter has self-confidence issues, also Peter part kinda slide tracked and has more about Peter and his struggle than him dating reader whose a human ... sorry! (his part is also a bit short ...)

— Scott Summers

Scott has no particular qualm around you being a regular human, he loves you just as you are, and nothing can change that. That said, Scott cannot help himself but be, patronising at time. In his mind, you being a human just make you be at risks, you can't defend yourself if you get attacked, by others humans or mutants. He doesn't view you as weak, but, he know how fleeting life is. He isn't the greatest at expressing his feelings, and notably his worry for you.

He will also be more protective than if he was with a mutant. And it show in him being at first very against you befriending any others x-men, he very much care for most of them and he loves you very much, but he doesn't want to have those two part of his life mix up. He doesn't want you to get in dangers because of his job, but he also doesn't want you to possibly endanger one of his mission, he wasn't capable of choosing between you and one of his mission. Not to say, you are as or more important than his mission, but he was responsibilities as a X-Men and he cannot forget about them. But that said, with enough asking and pleading, making him crack and let you meet his friends and fellow X-Men.

Talking about you interacting with mutants, Scott will not let any remarks about you - well not being one - slide. He knows and understand why his friends may feel wary of humans, he get it, but you are different. You are quite literally dating him - a mutant, it couldn't make any sense for you to be against them. Scott may let it slide the first time actually, but anymore than that, and he's making them do extra session in danger room - or they aren't allowed in it, depending on who.

In general, there isn't that much of a different between how he treat his mutant or non-mutant partner, he just will be more protective and worried for them. He doesn't feel particularly insecure in your relationship - because of his mutation or your lack of mutation.

Again, he doesn't have any problems with you not being a mutant - he more so has problem being a mutant, not in general of course, but in your relationship yes. Peter can't really give an answer as to why, but if he had to guess it was probably due to this father, and the fact that he didn't want to do anything like his father did, to you. The worst is, he know damn well he isn't anything like him but he can't help but think that way.

He feels like he's going to mess your relationship up, because of what he is. He try to play it off as if it was nothing, but it's a feeling that lingers in the back of his mind often. He never truly wished to be a regular human before, and he still doesn't, but he just want your relationship to be more normal. Which isn't really possible. Peter knows that, he also knows that you don't care, about that kind of thing.

He can mask his doubts and awful self-confidence with his quirky attitude, he can fool most people pretty easily - expect you. At some point, it get to point, where you have to sit down with Peter and try to have a conversation about it, at first he will just act dumb and pretend he doesn't get what you are talking about, but his facade cracks relatively fast.

You listen, his fears and doubts. You comfort him, and assure him, that everything is fine, you reassure him that weither your relationship is 'normal' or not it's the last of your problem. You love him, he loves you and that all that matter in your eyes.

Now, Kurt could be the one that has the most difficulty dating someone that is not a mutant. He could be scared to hurt you more than anything. He's stressing out about doing or saying the worst thing, that will just break everything. One of the reason why he is friend, with his friends is because they share at least one thing - they can all relate on one crucial part of their identity - them being mutant, it's one thing that link them all together and make it at least a little bit easier to connect. You lacking that, make it hard for him. He still loves you all the same of course, but he feels like not being able to share something so crucial is sad.

So he desperately try to make it up in some way, he looks everything he can about your interests to be able to share that with you, everytime you share something about your interests Kurt will make mental note of it. And he will share a lot about what interest him in return. If you speak an another language that he doesn't know, he'll try to learn it, after all what is better than learning the language of your lover! Kurt can even teach you some german if you want to!

He wants something to link the two of you together even more. It's something he heavily crave. To be linked to you, by more than just, your love for each others.

Kurt may feel insecure at time, that you may leave him for well, a regular human, that isn't blue, has five fingers on each hands - he will try to keep it to himself, but he isn't really good at that. His insecurity just overflow and he end up offhandedly asking you while you are hanging out, if you could prefer to be dating a human rather than him. Obviously, you tell him that you don't, and ask where did this idea came from. He feels reluctant to admit as to why he asked. He feels, ashamed ? After seeing your reaction, he feels a bit silly, and even more when you comfort him and tell him that you very much prefer and could always choose to date him more than anyone else just because they are human.

On a more happy note Kurt loves seeing how amazed you are by his mutation, you never really were around mutants before - there isn't actually a ton of opportunity to meet mutants and to know that they are mutants, even if antis mutant politicians like to make people believe the contrary - most humans he met, weren't exactly thrilled by his, but you are the exactly opposite. Even after being together for a while and getting used to his mutation, there is still this curiosity and shine in your eyes when he teleport for example.

He is by far, the most chill about your relationship and you not being a mutant while he is. Well, that is if we are talking about Hank, after he accepted his entire mutation and all, which we are, Hank pre-self acceptance is different deal.

But once, Hank is settled as a scientific and has member of the X-Men, and has fully accepted his mutation, he doesn't personally really care. But sadly, a lot of people seemingly do and that's one thing that annoy him. The worst is it come from both fellow mutants, even his friends and colleagues sometime! And from regular humans. He doesn't really get why people care about him dating a non-mutant or you dating him - a mutant.

He personally try to not let it get to him, and if it does he will do everything but make you suffer because of it. It most often will result in him shutting himself in his lab for a bit of time, to calm down.

And like others, he feels like he needs to protect you because, you are so ... weak in his eyes, not in a bad way of course ! But in comparison to him you are so small and fragile. This cause Hank to usually like putting his arms around you, around you waist or on your back, to show you that he is there, and to show people around that you are his, and that they shouldn't try to hurt you in anyway.

#i pulled up with the gifs .. yk that a long post #a magic piece ?#time to write every tags ever #xmen x reader #x-men x reader #x men x reader #marvel x reader #scott summers x reader #peter maximoff x reader #kurt wagner x reader #hank mccoy x reader #the beast x reader #nightcrawler x reader #quicksilver x reader #cyclop x reader #x reader

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teddynivvy · 2 days

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Can I…. can I has a part 2 to the current era schlatt virgin story where they has the soft sex pwetty pwease, I am craving a fluff right ‘bout now or tomorrow or anytime cause I’m STARVING…. 🥺👉👈💕

~🍓🍰 (yes, I’m one of Dollie’s beloved anons, if you don’t know who tf I am still, than hi! 👋🏼 I’m 🍓🍰 anon, I like fluff and submissive schlatt stories, and that’s all you need to know about me for now ^^)

ur acting like i’m not stalking dollie’s blog every day for content lmao ofc i know who u are i’m glad ur here :) as a fellow sub schlatt truther i’m here for u! continuation of pt 1 virgin!schlatt, afab!reader and nsfw :)

schlatt's laying back now, feeling much more comforted by your reaction to his confession.

he shakily breathes out when you start to pull off his clothes, taking yours off with them and allowing them to find a pile on the floor. the sun is just setting, painting his neck and chest light orange, as you find yourself between his legs.

his boxers came off with his pants, and you're impressed by the sight of his cock. you start to rub your hand over it, and he's achingly hard, trying not to cum just from the faint touch of your pretty fingers. "tell me if you want me to stop," you say, letting your other hand rub his thigh for reassurance. he looks down at you, almost alarmed. "please, don't stop."

your hand wraps around him as you envelop him in your mouth, feeling the tip of his length bob at the back of your throat. he's not making much noise, just gripping the sheets, hips bucking up slightly into your soft, wet mouth. you can tell he's holding back, so you pull off just for a second. "i like when you make noise," you note, and you feel him relax. "o-okay," he lets his hand come to your head as you start to take him in again, moans now pouring from his mouth.

he sounds unholy, groans and grunts because his cock is hitting the back of your mouth, as you let him fuck into it slightly. he's so needy for you, wants all of you - you can tell he won't last long like this, and you want to feel him inside of you.

"do you wanna fuck me?" you ask, with a smirk on your face. he nods vehemently, with a red face and a soft smile. "that felt so good," he rushes out, as you lay on your back and feel him on top of you. your legs wrap around him, heels digging into his lower back as you nod, double checking for his assurance. "i'm not, uh," he laughs into the crook of your neck. "i'm not gonna last long." you kiss him on the cheek, then the throat, then his lips, as he slides his cock deep inside of you.

you both gasp at the sensation - full and complete, as he starts to rut his hips into you. feeling the friction on your clit build, you're surprised at how easily he's hitting the right spot to make you cum right alongside him. "is that ok?" he asks, between breaths. "mmhm," you reply, feeling your hands find his broad shoulders as he pumps in and out, feeling his lips on your neck and the tension rising between you.

he's kissing you now, warm and sloppy as his thrusts get more jagged, still rutting up against you. your orgasms are building, and when he starts to go faster, you feel yourself unravel. "can i - fuck, fuck, - can i come inside of you?" you can tell he's so close, about to explode, so you crash your lips to his and nod, wrapping your legs around him to hold him inside of you.

it hits you both at the same time - seismic waves that have you crying out his name, gasping for more of him as your lips disconnect. he's groaning into your mouth, spurting hot cum inside of you and letting his hips rest in between your legs when he's finished. out of breath and sweaty, you lay there together, relishing in the feeling of warmth, running your hands through his hair.

"good first time?" you finally ask, after a beat to catch your breath.

"yeah. great first time."

#chuckle sandwich x reader #chuckle sandwich fanfiction #jschlatt smut #jschlatt x reader #jschlatt fanfic #nat writes

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sillygoose067 · 2 days

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Over the 7 Seas

Ch. 36

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Warnings: SMUT-- oral(fem. receiving), fingering, nipple sucking, brief praise kink, mostly soft smut, lots of kissing, let me know if I missed anything.

Author’s Note: This is my first time writing smut. Was kinda skeptical while writing it so, yeah. Lmk if I should continue the scene in the next chapter or cut it off here.

Moving in with Charles was definitely an adjustment. You’d never believed all the sayings about living with men, but you understood now. Although, you knew that they came as a package deal, you were quickly learning a lot of new things about your boyfriend. He was relatively neat most of the time. He spent time streaming games with his friends. He liked to play the piano in his free time, or when there was a lot on his mind. He liked trying new recipes, even if he was a potential hazard in the kitchen (you made sure to keep an eye on him while he was in there). He liked to spend his time reading, cozied up in the loveseat, rather than on electronic devices. He loved to keep music playing around the house.

Somehow, all of these little quirks made you fall in love with him a little more, no matter how frustrating he could be sometimes.

Unbeknownst to you, Charles also noticed little things while accommodating you.

…

“Baby?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you ogling me?”, Charles asked, his back to you as he grabbed his clothes from the drawers, only in a towel.

“Yes”

This makes him turn towards you. He raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you’d be such a pervert, Cheri.”

“Yeah, well, I’m only a pervert for you.”

The other eyebrow goes up now, and his arms are crossed across his chest, a look of mild surprise on him. “I wasn’t aware you had such a dirty mouth– Or mind, for that matter– either.”

You shrug, a smirk playing on your lips. Within seconds, he’s in front of you, pulling your lips to his. Instinctually, your arms wrap around his shoulders, tugging him closer by the nape.

You pull away, noses brushing, keeping your lips a hair’s breadth away from his, pulling back each time he tries to capture the soft tissue– teasing him. You bite your lip.

“Charles?”, you whisper. It felt wrong to speak out loud in intimate moments like these.

“What, Y/n?”. A frustrated puff of air against your lips.

You chew your lip some more, hesitating. Charles pulls your lip from under your teeth, soothing the swollen skin with his thumb. He can’t stand it when you do that– it makes something wild in him come alive.

“I think I’m ready. To go… all the way.”

You feel his breath stutter, and his grip on your hips tightens. Your eyes meet, and you can tell he’s searching for assurance.

“Y/n baby, are you sure? You don’t need to rush. If you’re worried about my needs, don’t– I can take care of myself, I just want you to feel safe and certain–”

You cup his cheek and bring your lips together, shutting him up. “I want this Charles.”

When your lips meet again, you can tell that something’s changed in him. Your boyfriend moves the two of you more comfortably on the bed, only breaking momentum to tear off your tank top and shorts. You’re panting, hair spread around you like a halo. Charles crushes himself onto you, trying to deepen the kiss, and then you feel it. A thick, solid form pressing into your hip, and you gasp. “Is that…?”

Charles kisses the corner of your lip. “Yes. Is that alright?”

You whimper in response. Involuntarily pushing your breasts into him, arching to feel more of him against you. He kisses your face– nose, cheeks, forehead. “Can I make love to you, angel?”, he whispers against your temple.

“Please”, you whine, chasing after his lips.

He pulls away with a chuckle. Oh how the tables have turned, you think. “I need to hear you say it Y/n”, he says, tracing your cheekbone with his thumb.

“Yes, Charles, please. Want you”, you breathe against his lips.

Without wasting a second, Charles’ arm reaches behind you and unclasps your bra. With one hand. You feel yourself beginning to soak your panties. Your breasts bounce free, and Charles pulls away, sitting up, his eyes wandering over you. You feel a blush creeping up at his scrutiny and move to cover yourself up, but your boyfriend is faster.

“Never hide yourself from me, Cheri. You’re so beautiful”, he says as he moves your arms away, only to replace them with his hands, cupping your breasts. His touch is so warm, that you push the malleable mounds further into his grip, reveling in the featherlight brushes against your nipples.

Charles kisses his way down to your chest, leaving a trail of lovebites. He brushes his thumb against a nipple, watching how it swells under his touch, and then flicks his tongue against the nub, leaving it glistening with spit. You shiver as the saliva cools against your skin– and then is enveloped in warmth. You let out a moan as you feel his mouth close around your breast, tongue playing with your nipple, teeth scraping against the sensitive skin. He treats the other nipple the same way once he deems that he’s spent enough time on one side.

Pressing butterfly kisses up to your collar and nipping here and there, finally connecting lips with you, chuckling against them when you whine for him to hurry. “Let me worship you, my love.” you clench around nothing at the feel of the rumbling of his chest, the vibrations making your nipples tingle as they rub against his pecs.

He makes his way down once again, down your sternum, down your stomach, all the way to the waistband of your panties. Fingers curling under the fabric, bunching it at your hips, he keeps his eyes on yours as he leaves a smattering of kisses right above your mound, slowly pulling the cloth down. He taps your hip to lift, and you do so nervously. Before removing your panties completely, he stops and checks with you again. “Are you sure you want to go through with this baby?”

With your lip caught between your teeth (a nervous habit), you take a breath and nod, attempting to stabilize your racing heart. Charles pulls the offending scrap off of you, tossing it somewhere to the corners of the bedroom, and you close your legs by instinct. He grabs your thighs and pulls them apart gently, his eyes never leaving yours, not until he’s settled comfortably between your thighs, arms wrapped around your hips, keeping your legs open.

The scent of your arousal fills his senses and his eyes flutter shut as he brings his nose closer to the source, inhaling deeply, resting his cheek on your inner thigh. You bite back a whimper. His thumb rubs the spot a little above your clit, in a soothing motion.

“I want your eyes on me, baby. I want you to watch how I worship you.”

This time you don't even try to hold back the whimper, gushing some more.

It starts with a broad stripe up your folds, the sudden heat making you flinch and try to close your thighs, making him grip you tighter and move your feet to rest on his shoulders. Then, Charles uses his thumbs to separate the saturated folds, opening you up like a flower, holding the lips open as he licks once again, this time taking his time and tasting your nectar from the source, and ending his ascent up with a suck on your throbbing pearl. Your breath catches and your fingers curl into the bedsheets next to your hips. And then, your boyfriend commences the feast, eating you, drinking you up as if he’d been dehydrated for days. Your hips thrash against him, unable to decide if you wanted more or to get away from the assault on your pussy, back arching off the bed and deeper into his mouth, hands coming up to grip your pillow, teeth biting down uselessly on a finger, trying to keep sounds from escaping. Charles’ eyes never leave yours, watching what he does to you– that is until he runs his tongue over your clit and makes your eyes roll back.

He pulls your hand away from your mouth. “I want to hear your sounds”, he says, and you’re not even sure if you can get wetter. Now uninhibited, you whimper and moan with every caress of his mouth. You gasp when you feel the tip of his tongue wriggle into your entrance. “Hands– Want to… want to hold your hand”, you whine as you reach down and make a grabby hand, and Charles intertwines his fingers with yours, smiling at your adorableness and pressing a kiss to the junction where your thigh met your labia. And then he goes back to business, smirking against you when he feels you squeeze his hand at his ministrations.

Once he feels like he’s stretched you enough with his tongue, he pulls off. “Baby, I need to loosen you up to take me. I’m gonna add some fingers now ok? I need you to tell me if I hurt you.”

“Okay”, you pant.

You feel one finger ease into you, and you flutter around the digit, trying to adjust to the foreign feeling.

“Fuck. Are you alright?”

“Just a little uncomfortable. But… you can move.”

He pushes the finger deeper and then slowly works you open, feeling around your walls, trying to find your G-spot. Once you become accustomed to the feeling and feel the effects of the pleasure, you tell him to add another. With two fingers pumping into you now, Charles takes the chance to latch onto your clit again, and you let out a surprised shriek, which turns into a moan, the sensations building something deep in your gut. “Hnnng, baby– something’s– I can’t.” You’re no longer able to form coherent sentences. Charles increases his pace, feeling you get close, and your toes form points, the tips digging into his shoulder blades as your thighs, no longer held down, close around his head.

He pushes you over the edge and you cum, silently trembling, unable to make a sound, shocks traveling through your body as your boyfriend helps you through it. Your knuckles are white with how hard you’re gripping Charles’s hand, back bowing off the bed and head pressed as far back as possible, another hand gripping the pillowcase, eyes rolled back and fluttering as you shake.

Charles cleans up your juices, pressing a gentle kiss to your now sensitive clit, then making his way up to kiss your sweaty forehead. “Good girl”, he whispers as he licks his fingers clean. “You taste like a dream.”

Once you catch your breath, you smile shyly. “Thank you. I think I like your fingers now.”

Realization flashes through Charles’ face as he remembers your words to him in LA. He grins and tickles you, sending giggles throughout the room.

When he stops, you pull him down closer to you. “Can we fuck now?”

“No”

Your expression falls.

“We can’t fuck now, but I can make love to you.”

A sigh of relief. “Aren’t they the same thing?”

A huff of air against your collarbone. “Oh love, you’ll know the difference when I fuck you.”

#smut #fluff #f1 #formula 1 #f1 x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader

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yoonivy · 2 days

Text

gold rush; part 5.

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

genre. romantic comedy — inspired by��10 things i hate about you and also another movie (can you guess which one? :) ) , college/university au, smut, enemies to lovers (kinda??? their relationship is complicated to explain LOL)

In all the 8 years you’ve known Aemond Targaryen, he has not spoken more than 8 words to you. In total. So why is he starting now?

warnings. ramsay, aegon, and their friends. deepthroating.

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07

---

One night turns it into two and then three… and before Aemond knows it, three weeks have gone by and he still hasn’t told you what he should have told you weeks ago.

(Or the thing that shouldn’t have even been a plan in the first place.)

It’s part selfishness of not wanting to lose you, and cowardice — also for not wanting to lose you.

In his mind, the plan is already called off. If people get pissed off at him then that’s fine. All he knows is he is not going to do that to you. Not anymore.

Besides, the plan was idiotic anyway. Aegon came up with it, so that tells you everything you need to know. The only reason Aemond got roped into it was because nobody thought Aegon could successfully court you to get even a single date.

Now Aemond is glad he got convinced to carry out the plan instead because the thought of you with his older brother now makes him sick. Especially when he thinks about the text his brother had wrote in the family group chat last night that he had ignored but can’t get out of his head:

Aegon

— aemond is taking too long with the plan 😫

— maybe I should take over

— didn’t ____ have a crush on me before?

Daeron

— IJBOOOOOOOOL 😶🌫️

He ignored the messages, not bothering to reply, but that doesn’t mean that what Aegon had said hasn’t been running around his head all night long.

You used to have a crush on Aegon?! When was that?!

It’s impossible, a total fabrication and defamation of your character!

But still… it could be possible.

Aemond is not completely blind to see that his older brother is pretty popular with women (especially those who don’t know him beyond his looks) , and growing up, he has had many classmates who had feelings for his brother (some even shameless enough to ask him if his brother was seeing anyone) — but to think that you would have fallen for his brother’s trickery and deceit even if it was just a stupid teenage crush?

It makes Aemond want to empty out the content of his stomach.

Which is not much. Just coffee, black. Forgoing breakfast as he is currently waiting for you outside your apartment building to get brunch together.

As he waits, he ruminates, trying to recall any indication of his brother’s statement as true. The more he combs through his memories, the more bothered he gets because can’t recall any. And not because there isn’t a moment that it might be possible (as much as he hopelessly wishes this was the case) but it’s because he never bothered to care or observe anything you did in the past so his memory is coming up empty.

So what if you did used to harbor a crush on Aegon?

The thought makes Aemond ill.

“Morning sunshine—-!” Your cheerful exclamation is immediately halted by the look of your boyfriend’s face when you get a good look at him. Still handsome like always but he seems to be unhappy. And rest assured, you can now tell the difference between his resting bitch face or if he is actually in a foul mood by now.

You place a delicate hand on his upper arm, expression full of concern. “Hey, you okay?”

Aemond focuses in on you — on your pretty face that he has grown so truly fond of. The one face that he wants to see everyday and if he doesn’t, it would just automatically be a mundane or terrible day. The sight of you leaves him breathless, he nods slow, distracted.

Then he bends to ravish your mouth. Needy. His fingers digging into your hips to pull you closer. Possessive.

It’s a lot for eleven in the morning — not that you’re complaining!

“Wow… good morning to me,” you say with a cheeky smirk when you pull away. Aemond seems brighter too, smiling softly as he looks down at you.

It seems that whatever he was thinking about before you came is completely forgotten now.

“So, where are we going?” You ask once in his car, pulling on the passenger seatbelt.

“It’s this place that just opened,” he tells you, his eye on the road. “Helaena recommends it; their only other location is in King’s Landing and she goes nearly every week.”

“Oooh!” You perk up in your seat. “I trust Helaena’s taste so I’m excited!”

Aemond grins, then hears the telltale sound coming from his speaker that lets him know that someone connected to it via Bluetooth.

“Also, I heard this song last night and thought of you,” you say just as a sweet melody starts to play.

I’ve never known someone like you,

Tangled and lovestuck by you

From the glue

Aemond tries to bite down his growing smile as he takes in the lyrics. But when you flash your pretty smile his way, he cannot help but return it.

Because it’s you.

And that’s just how he is now.

Crazy about you.

Guess I’m stuck forever on the glue

—- oh, and you…

---

By the time you arrive at your destination, there is already a long line wrapping around the corner of the street to get into the new brunch place.

You shoot a worried look towards Aemond — both brows rising as your eyes comically widen — but all Aemond does in response is smirk, cool and collected.

He meets you at your side of the car, opens the door like a gentleman and offers out his hand for you to hold. You take it as you step out, and you walk hand in hand with Aemond leading you past the long line of people and all the way to the entrance.

You are a bit confused, seeing as how while you were looking at the menu on your phone during the drive, it said that there are no reservations and it’s first come, first serve.

Before you can question it, he tells the hostess by the door his name and she greets the two of you with a warm smile and then calls someone from inside to show you to your seat.

Guess this is one of the perks of being wealthy or having a recognizable name.

“Helaena is friends with the chef so she got us a table,” Aemond explains when he notices your curious expression on him.

Ah… makes sense.

You hear disgruntled murmurings behind you while you walk in with your boyfriend.

You recall times that you were in their shoes — watching glitzy and clearly very wealthy stride in places with or even without reservations while you were waiting for hours . But now that you’re with Aemond… your back straightens, holding your head high as you try not to feel like an imposter in your $14.99 thrifted dress.

Then — as if feeling your slightly anxious energy — Aemond squeezes your hand and looks back with a sweet smile, leaning into your ear and murmurs you’re gorgeous.

Your knees almost buckle, feeling like you’re both melting on the spot and drifting up to the heavens.

With your free hand, you grab onto his arm, the same one holding your hand, and nuzzle up closely to him with a gleeful grin rounding your cheeks.

“We have two tables for you to choose from, Sir,” the host says, leading you and Aemond through the fully occupied restaurant. “There’s one at our outdoor patio on the roof, or—“

“Oh, Mondy~!”

Aemond stiffens at the sound of the voice, his hand clutching yours tighter. Still, he doesn’t dare look, and even somewhat turns away to seemingly block out and pretend he had not heard what he surely had heard and keeps walking. But you, on the other hand, slow your steps to peer around him curiously.

What you see is his older brother, Aegon, sitting at a table, twiddling his fingers at the two of you with a strange and sickeningly sweet grin on his face. You stop — causing Aemond to do so as well, but not without the most frustrated and heaviest sigh — and you wave back slowly.

“What a coinkydink!” Aegon exclaims, hands clapping together as he stands up and makes his way over. “Such a wonderful surprise!”

Aemond grimaces, knowing it was anything but. Helaena had accidentally messaged the groupchat with his siblings to ask about the time when he wanted to arrive at the restaurant, so he is pretty sure Aegon just bothered her to put his name on the list as well.

“And ____, you are looking absolutely gorgeous — as always.”

Aemond’s grimace twists into a furious deep seated scowl when Aegon steps up and throws his arm around his girlfriend’s shoulder, yanking you towards him that you essentially had to drop Aemond’s hand from the shock of it with a soft oh falling from your lips.

“C’mon! Join us!” Aegon exclaims, gesturing towards his table where their cousin, Vis, and the Cargyll twins were sitting. He snaps his fingers towards the host, an order to grab another chair for the table.

Without allowing either you or Aemond to accept or decline on the idea, Aegon sits you down on the chair beside his. When Aemond tries to sit down on the empty seat right across from yours, Aegon shakes his head and points to the new seat at the head of the table — the one furthest away from you.

Aemond opens his mouth to question and protest, but Aegon beats him to it, “that seat’s taken.”

Eyeing the leather bomber jacket thrown haphazardly on the seat, Aemond sighs in defeat and begrudgingly drops down on the one forcefully assigned to him.

You make eye contact with your boyfriend, offering a tight smile as you notice his completely neutral expression before taking a hold of the menu to glance through, hiding the way you bite down your disappointment. You guess he is fine with this. So even though you had been anticipating this date with Aemond, to spend some quality time with just him, this is the least you could do for him. Aemond has been integrated into your friend group, it’s only fair for you to get to know his.

Unbeknownst to you, your boyfriend’s carefully calm expression is just his way of staying calm. Really, he desperately wants to throttle his older brother. This is the last thing he wanted.

The cherry that tops the shit cake arrives when the person who had reserved the seat across from you finally comes back from wherever he had been hiding. From one of the layers of Hell, probably.

“This beautiful day just keeps getting better and better!” Ramsay exclaims by way of announcing himself when he gets to the table.

You are visibly disgusted when he crowds your space to hug you, smelling strongly of cigarette smoke. You push him away when he doesn’t let go of you quick enough. All the bastard does is chuckle, like it’s so amusing how put off you are of him.

Straightening up, Ramsay offers Aemond a shit-eating grin and a nod. “How’re you doing there, bloke?”

Aemond couldn’t hide his feelings anymore — especially after witnessing Ramsay’s dirty hands on you, even if it just barely grazed your back — now openly seething, his nostrils flared.

“Great,” Aemond fumes, tone flat and discontent. “Just wonderful .”

There’s an infuriating comment at the tip of Ramsay’s mouth, but thankfully, the waiter arrives to pour you and Aemond water and to take orders.

The guys barely looked at the menu, ordering whatever they fancy. (“Mimosa,” Vis tuts, without even acknowledging the waiter. “And hold the orange juice.”) Meanwhile, you calculate in your head the total of your order before politely asking the waiter for a stack of buttermilk pancakes ($23, the cheapest on the menu) with strawberry compote (an extra $5) and a glass of mimosa ($17) as well — to treat yourself, and because you know you’ll probably need it to make it through this brunch with Ramsay. This means you probably have to scavenge through your fridge for leftovers for the next few days until you get paid but it’s fine.

After the twins introduce themselves to you, Vis directs the conversation to something that you guess they had been discussing before you and Aemond had arrived, seeing it sounded like his point was a continuation of a previous thought. Although listening intently, you don’t contribute to the conversation, only half understanding what was being said. Aemond, on the other hand, easily comprehends the subject of discussion and adds in his opinion.

Leaning towards him as you tuck your hand under your chin, you hang onto every word that comes out of Aemond’s mouth. You can admit, Aemond can be a little pretentious at times (okay, perhaps more than sometimes), but maybe it’s because you adore him that he sounds highly intelligent and, let’s be real, fucking hot.

But what Aemond said clearly pissed Vis off, opposing his opinion. The latter scoffs, face going sour.

While the food starts to be brought to the table, Vis turns towards you. “What do you think about it?”

You don’t even realize he was speaking to you until he calls your name. You shake away your dreamy gaze of your boyfriend to glance questioningly at his cousin. He repeats himself with a vapid curl of his lips.

After quickly acknowledging the staff who places your plate in front of you with a sweet smile and soft thank you, you think about how to reply. You like to think you are well read and also quite politically inclined (with Robb, Margaery and Meera as your best friends, it’s hard not to be), but you are not someone who spouts off things without being educated about it. And this — a certain trade route closing and the economic impact because of it — you are definitely not educated about. You do know about the conflict in the southern countries of Essos and economic crises there because of said conflict – but you hadn’t realized it affected Westeros as well. But perhaps you should have, knowing that some Westeros countries and politicians are the reason for the further destabilization in many Essos countries.

Choosing your words carefully, you tell them exactly just that. You think your response was sound and good, sitting up straighter as you notice the glint in your boyfriend’s eye.

That is until Vis chuckles meanly and snarks, “You shouldn’t have said anything at all if it was going to end with no substance.”

Your stomach drops as you meet Vis’ challenging stare.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur meekly. “I guess you’re right…”

“I think what you said was perfectly fine,” Aemond tries to defend you, frustration dripping in his words.

“ Awww… don’t be so harsh on her, Vis,” Ramsay coos with an exaggerated pout. “She’s a Creative Writing major.”

The whole table laughs at that, save for you and Aemond.

“Genuinely curious, what are you going to do with a degree like that?” One of the twins speaks up. Erryk, you think, the one with the longer hair.

You try to force a smile as you try to disregard the judgment in his question, your spirit lifting up slightly as you talk about something you are passionate about. “I would like to get my words out there. Publish a few books. Do some live performances…”

“What do you write?” Arryk asks.

“Oh, um, poetry!”

That earns a couple snorts and snickers. Inhaling deeply, your smile wavers, but you manage to keep it on.

“And if that doesn’t work out?” Arryk continues his line of questioning. “What are you going to do then…? Teach english? ”

He says it like it’s an unworthy cause, but you think of Professor Seaworth and how much you admire him. “I mean, I wouldn’t oppose it.”

“I’m sure it will work out. She’s wonderful at what she does and has such a beautiful way with words,” Aemond adds, and your heart swells, smiling gratefully at him. “She even has a few of her pieces published already.”

“Where?” Vis asks, skeptical.

Aemond proudly names all the publications that featured your work. You're surprised he knows them off by heart.

“No one reads any of that,” Vis says with a roll of his eyes and Aemond’s hand tightens into a white knuckled fist. Your own sets down the fork you were just about to bring up to your mouth, your bleary eyes stay trained on your plate. You are not feeling very hungry anymore.

Meanwhile, Aegon is already on his phone and pulling up one of your work.

Without any prompting, Aegon begins to dramatically read one of your poems out loud, and the guys laugh after every line. You confess, it’s not your best work out there, but — did they really have to do this and laugh in your face?

“I don’t know why you’re all laughing — it’s better than anything you tossers have said in your entire life,” Aemond says.

Vis puffs out a breath. “Oh, please… it’s juvenile.”

At this point, you feel like you are closing off, hardly really hearing anything anymore. It’s as if your mind is trying to save you from the humiliation. You don’t understand why they are targeting you so cruelly. Did you say something that made them dislike you so much?

It’s so baffling that you couldn’t even stand up for yourself when you usually would. You just sit there, mute.

“It’s on par with his ex-girlfriend’s lyrics about him,” Ramsay comments gleefully. The others laugh and exclaim in agreement.

“No offense,” Arryk begins, glancing towards you as he says your name. “You seem like a lovely girl and all, but I’m surprised Aemond’s dating you—”

“What the fuck are you saying?” Aemond snarls.

“I’m just saying …!” Arryk throws his palms up defensively, shrugging his shoulders. “The last girl you dated was Myrcella Baratheon —”

… As in Luvie? The popstar?!

You throw a questioning look at Aemond but his glare is set on Arryk, looking like he is about to pounce.

“I think what my brother is trying to say is that it’s quite a — I don’t want to say it but… a downgrade , you know?” Erryk slides in. Then to you, he quickly adds, “Not to say that you’re a downgrade, but just — you know Aemond. He’s very arrogant and particular—”

“Stop talking,” Aemond demands. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“See, sweetheart,” Ramsay smirks at you, playfully nudging your foot under the table. “This is why I never introduced you to any of them when we were dating. They’re assholes . Your sweet, little heart doesn’t deserve this.”

Aegon throws his arm around your shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. “Don’t be offended, babe. It’s not that serious. This is just how we are! If anything, all this jest shows how much we like you! You’re practically part of the family now!”

You could not even bother to shrug Aegon off you. You just smile tightly at him, wondering if he is right. Your friends do joke around like this — but never to this hurtful extent. Are you just too soft for all of this?

Suddenly a loud screech resounds in the room of metal against the flooring, causing the whole group (and some of the other surrounding patrons) to shut up and turn to witness Aemond standing up in a breakneck speed, both his palms pressed on the table. Your mouth parts in a silent gasp when you notice how tight his body seems to be with tension, his whole demeanor dour and rigid.

Aemond flashes his vicious gaze at his older brother, flicking between Aegon’s widened eyes and where his hand is touching your shoulder.

“Get. Your. Hand. Off. Her.” Aemond coldly instructs.

Aegon laughs, albeit nervously. “Calm down, Mondy,”

Still, he follows his younger brother’s order and hastily slips his arm away from you. “We’re just joking around! The twins share a single brain cell between them. Vis has a flair for dramatics and is a debate pervert. And Ramsay is, well… Ramsay!” He takes a quick glance at the man he just spoke about. “No offense, mate.”

Ramsay’s blue eyes roll while he mutters a whatever.

But their exchange is lost on you, your attention is solely captured by Aemond, holding himself in such a tall and regal manner, still standing there as if waiting for a more opportune moment to speak up.

The time comes when the guys realize he hasn’t sat back down, and they all gaze up to where he stands at the end of the table. Aemond visibly unnerves them by how deathly silent he is and by the way his lips start to curl into a disconcerting smirk — the boys exchanging looks of concern amongst themselves. Then, even more so, when they notice his violet eye stare straight ahead as he begins to speak, “It seems that for once in your life, Aegon, you’re right.”

Aemond’s tone is a little too calm, but in a way that you know it is taking everything in him to level his voice that evenly.

“ ____ and I are unfortunate enough to find ourselves amongst clowns on what should have been a beautiful morning.”

The boys throw in their objects and varied choices of what the fuck? but Aemond ignores them, continuing in slow drawl, “I mean, take Vis for example. The only reason you care to learn about the state of the economy and the trading route is so you can have something to blame for your own failing businesses. Oh, excuse me, let me correct myself — failed businesses. How many of them have you had to file for bankruptcy again?”

Vis doesn’t answer, his expression just twists in contempt. So Aemond answers his own question, “It was all five, wasn’t it?”

Unable to help himself, Aegon chokes on a cough to cover up a laugh that just bursts out.

“Now, Arryk—” Aemond sharply glances sideways to the shorter-haired twin, then snaps to the other, “Erryk—” then back straight ahead, “Neither of you should be so comfortable about asking someone whether they are taking the right path to a successful future. Because if you ask me , what the two of you have dedicated your whole life for does not look to be working out. Not when you two are on the starting line-up of the university’s hockey team that has been on a three season losing streak, and will most likely stay that way as long as the two of you are on the team.”

The twins have never looked so identical until this very moment. Their tense jaws roll while they both scoff at the same time.

Knowing that he is probably next on the chopping block, Ramsay sits back coolly as he folds his arms across his chest, chewing obnoxiously on a piece of steak with a smirk. “Do your worst, mate. I’ve already heard it all from my father.”

Aemond lets out a humourless chuckle, head dipping in a nod to agree with him. “You’re probably right. But your father doesn’t even know the worst of it, does he? That you spend his hard earned money to buy yourself a recording contract, radioplay, and bots to boost your band’s social media engagement, and still your band has nothing to show for it. The only song people like of yours is the one with my girlfriend’s lyrics, and yet you were laughing at her poem earlier?”

You blink blankly at what Aemond just said. “What do you mean my lyrics ?”

You’ve never, ever written anything for Ramsay.

Aemond tilts his head at you with adorable confusion, his expressive brows drawing together.

“Your poem ‘bad astrology’ is also the lyrics for his song…”

Then it dawns on him the same time it does to you —

“You stole my work?!”

“You didn’t get her permission?!”

Ramsay’s eye twitches as his mouth flops open and close like a fish out of water. But he recovers quickly, his mouth stretching into its usual smarmy smirk. “Come on, babe, don’t be like that! You don’t remember letting me use your poem?”

This is what he is going with? Gaslighting?

You let out a brief laugh of disbelief, a glare that could kill aimed right at Ramsay.

“First of all, don’t call me babe, or sweetheart, or anything like that ever again, you — you disgusting worm! And second — are you stupid ? I would never let you use my words for your shitty ass band! Why would I ever want to be associated with that ?”

Angered now, Ramsay spits out, “I seem to recall that you loved being associated with my bed, sl—“

“Don’t you dare talk to her like that,” Aemond sneers, slamming his hand on the table. “You—”

Aemond stops himself when he sees the look on your face.

The ire. The frustration. The mortification.

It’s not worth it, he thinks. As much as he wants to humiliate Ramsay further, Aemond needs to get you out of the situation — now.

You are his priority.

Aemond grabs his wallet out of his pocket and throws a couple hundred bills on the table, addressing the table, “You’re all a bunch of right sodding pricks.”

Then he rounds the table where you are and offers his hand out for you.

You take it quickly with a tight squeeze and a watery smile up at your boyfriend, and then the two of you are off.

Although the mood is beyond ruined, Aegon grins at his newly humbled friends, leaning across the table to snatch the money Aemond had graciously gave.

“Well, that was fun!”

---

As soon as the two of you step out onto the sidewalk, Aemond has you wrapped around his arms.

“I’m so sorry,” he says to you softly. “You didn’t deserve any of that.”

“‘S not your fault,” your voice is muffled, face buried into his chest. You’re not crying, at least not yet. You don’t want to either, none of them are worth your tears.

You pull away slightly, your fingers still gripping on the lapels of Aemond’s coat as you glance up at him. “Thank you for standing up for me.”

“Don’t thank me,” Aemond’s voice breaks a little, his heart breaking from the tears rimming around your sad eyes. “I should have—” He sucks in a breath, shaking his head, disappointed in himself. “I should have done more.”

Then his gaze is on you again, remorse heavy in that violet eye. “If I had known that Ramsay had stolen your poetry, I would have told you. You know that, right?”

“I know, don’t worry,” you frown, still grasping with the fact that one of your favorite piece of writing is somewhere out there, in some shitty acid metal rock song. “At least I know now…”

Aemond glances back at the restaurant, his hand closing into a fist. He wants to go back in there and wipe that infuriating smirk off of Ramsay’s face forever.

“Hey, look at me,” with your hand on his face, you bring his attention back on you. “I want to forget about everything that just happened, okay? I don’t care about any of them in there, I just care about you. I don’t want them to ruin this beautiful day that I was supposed to spend with you, Aemond.”

Because of the softness of you and your words, the tension that had overtaken Aemond finally dissipates. Relaxing from your touch.

“The day isn’t over yet,” he reminds you, allowing a small smile to spread on his lips.

You shake your head, returning his smile with a tiny one of your own. His head turns slightly to kiss your inner wrist. So comforting and sweet. “It’s not.”

Letting your hand fall from his face, you intertwine it with his hand instead.

“I’m pretty sure there’s some sort of promotion at Hot Pies this weekend,” you let him know about the diner close by campus that you and your friends (and now Aemond as well) are regulars at. “Bottomless hot chocolate.”

“Bottomless… hot chocolate ?”

You nod eagerly, an excited grin lighting up your face, making Aemond laugh fondly.

“Well, we can’t miss that.”

“Nope! No, we can’t!”

His smiling lips pressed onto yours before he turns to go. But just when he pulls your hand to lead back to his car, you pull back, causing him to pause to glance back at you, puzzled.

You are not looking at him — not into his eye, anyway. Your gaze is downcast, on where your hand is intertwined with his.

“Did you mean it…” you begin softly, uncharacteristically bashful. “... that you like my stuff?”

This time, it is Aemond’s turn to ease your mind.

Without a word, he shows you his phone screen. A habit he learned from you and your friends. Whether it’s to let him see a stupid TikTok, a funny text, or funny meme; you and your friends are notorious for sharing your screen. Aemond has a feeling that you all know each other’s lock screen passcode.

Brows drawing together in confusion, you blink prettily between him and his phone. Aemond grins, urging you to look with a nod of his head.

Your gaze narrows at him, confused and suspicious yet piqued, and so you take the phone from his hand.

On the screen, he has his phone gallery pulled up, in a folder titled: ___’s poems.

And that’s exactly what it was, a folder full of your poetry, screenshots from the different websites, social medias, and publications you had posted them on. You press on the latest one, and it’s dated back to two weeks ago. You scroll through and notice that each one had been favorited, indicated by the tiny white heart on the corner. The oldest picture was saved on the day you competed in the slam poetry contest.

“Aemond… what is this?” You ask, sniffing from the cold and perhaps something else.

Pulling his favorite scarf off his neck, your boyfriend takes a step closer towards you with the prettiest smile that makes your heart feel all warm.

“After watching you perform your poetry at the competition, I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about you on that stage,” You listen to his soft voice while you watch with him with watery eyes as he gingerly and tenderly starts to wrap the soft cashmere around you. “Your way with words is so captivating. They made me think, they made me feel, they made me see the world in a different lens. A better lens — one that is beautiful yet sometimes melancholic, but always so heartfelt and true. it’s just so…” Now that you are warmly bundled up by his doing, Aemond cradles your face in his hands and murmurs through his breathtaking smile, “ You .”

And then he is pressing a kiss on your lips that has you feeling faint, swooning like a lead actress in an old time movie.

You part away from each other, but you lay your hand over his on your cheek to keep it there. Keep him close. After what happened and what he just told you, you feel so safe with him.

“I…” he trails off as soon as he started, bashful all of the sudden.

“What?” You question teasingly, a grin spreading on your lips as you notice the blush spreading on his cheeks. Knees bending and head tilting at an uncomfortable angle, you try to annoy him further, “Aemond, tell me . Tell me!”

He presses his lips together, as if regretting even opening his mouth in the first place. But then you look up at him with those eyes of yours and he can’t deny you.

“I reread your poems whenever I’m missing you.”

“…oh,” you say, straightening up slowly, face not betraying anything. Completely cool and perfectly chill.

But your heart?

Oh, it’s down bad . Downright horrendous. Absolutely helpless at this point.

“I—“ you stop yourself, giggling nervously. Oh Gods, you almost said it.

You feel it. You know you do. It’s undeniable at this point.

But you want the first time you say it to be perfect.

So instead you lean up to kiss his cheek, murmuring in his ear, “Thank you.”

Aemond turns his face, quickly capturing your lips before you could pull away. It catches you completely by surprise, but it was a nice one, judging by the way you hum happily as you nuzzle deeper into the kiss, your dainty fingers grasping onto his biceps. Hands on your waist, Aemond pulls you closer, but when he does, he feels your stomach rumbling — even through your peacoat.

“Let’s get you something to eat, pretty girl,” Aemond says, laughing when you peck his lips two, three — or five — more times when he tries to pull away. He returns your sweet kisses one last time with a cheeky smile and then he takes your hand.

Aemond tries to lead you to his car. But again, you stay rooted in your spot, tugging him back to you. Concerned, Aemond searches the way you are looking at him, eyes clear and curious, playful almost – unlike how it was watery and sad like it was before. Relief floods through him, and so he waits for you to speak.

“ So , um…” You play with his hand, just beating around the bush. He tilts his head in confusion, so you just come out with it, “You dated… Luvie ?”

Glancing away from you, Aemond squints at the sky, clearing his throat gracelessly. “Well… yes . Sort of, kind of… It was barely anything, actually.”

“What?! Are you serious?! You have to tell me everything !” You exclaim in awe. How could your boyfriend keep this from you?! “How’d you two meet? Who asked who out first? What ... actually, don’t tell me everything . I don’t, you know, want all the gory details of you two… doing things…”

While you rambled, your boyfriend successfully got you into his car.

“We didn’t!”

“Uh-huh, okay. You dated Pop Base’s Hottest Woman of the Year and you didn’t do anything, mhm … So start talking, Aemond Targaryen.”

“Can we at least wait until we get to the diner? I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

“Fine… You better — but wait… does this mean you know Jacob Elordi? They’re best friends, you know! You should introduce me to him if you do…”

“Why do you want to be introduced to Jacob…?”

“ Huh. First name basis… I see… And no reason… no reason at all…”

“That face you’re making is adorable but I don’t trust it.”

“Don’t worry, silly . You’re still my number one crush… Jacob’s just my number two… minus point five. ”

“What?”

“Whooo! Bottomless hot chocolate!”

Aemond joyfully laughs at your attempt to switch the subject, glancing over at you with so much fondness.

You turn on Luvie’s Why to get a rise out of him, but as he listens to the lyrics, he finds himself bopping his head along with the music while thinking about you.

All the love songs tend to do that now.

a.t. 💗 🎵 crosswords · olivia dean

---

As painful as the brunch incident was, it might have been a blessing in disguise.

Aemond has been doing everything to make it up to you — not that you were asking him to do anything. He was just doing it on his own accord. Little things to make you smile.

Which is why Aemond finally agreed to visit his father with you.

You’ve asked him casually a couple times before in the past, but he always declined with some excuse. You never pressed him to explain, realizing he must have a reason. But still, you knew how much his father misses him and the rest of his siblings so you always offered him a choice to accompany you if he ever wanted to.

Today is that day.

On the drive over, you can tell Aemond is uneasy just by a few subtle nuances. You can read Aemond’s mood pretty well by now.

Laying a hand on his lap, you say, “It’s totally fine if you don’t want to go.”

Aemond’s eye flicks over to you for a quick second before it’s back on the road. “I want to. I just… I haven’t seen him in a while, so… I hope it’s not strained. I don’t want to put you between that.”

You hum, understanding. It has been a long time since Aemond visited his father – or talked to him – you don’t exactly know what caused the falling out but you are sure you stopped seeing Aemond or Aegon visit a couple months before you and Aemond started dating.

All you know is that Viserys is very tuned in and joyous whenever you talk about Aemond with him. Acting more like your girlfriends than the girls do, goading for you to tell him more, tell him mor e like the musical Grease.

(You are still trying to forget about how a few days ago, you had been gushing about Aemond to his dad and even thanked him for encouraging you to go to that party that started all this. Throughout your spiel, Viserys had that knowing look on his face and you knew right then that he knew exactly how you feel about Aemond.

It’s so embarrassing. Love is so embarrassing.

So again, you are trying to forget about that.)

Hoping that Viserys won’t bring any of that up, you offer your boyfriend a comforting smile and a light squeeze on his thigh. “I’m sure he’ll just be happy to see you.”

Aemond looks over at you again and instantly loosens up. There should be a study done on how easily you can disarm him with just a simple smile.

Aemond holds your hand tightly as the two of you step up to the door of his father’s home. Mostly to keep you from falling on the ice on the ground since you are quite clumsy, but he also needs you as an anchor to make him feel braver.

You let the both of you inside with your key, his father already knows that the two of you will be visiting.

Inside, you call his father’s name out while you rid yourself of your winter jacket and boots. You slip on your indoor slippers and grab the medical bag from the closet. Might as well do a routine checkup while you are there.

Aemond watches you, looking more at home at his father’s house than he feels. It’s a little backwards, but he does know he is partly at fault. He hasn’t been back here since before this school year started and he’s been dodging all this father’s attempt to speak to him — only answering in stilted very brief texts or through his mother or Helaena. His father doesn’t even know the reason why Aemond became so cold towards him all of the sudden.

It’s complicated.

“Here, let me,” Aemond says after hanging up his coat, taking the medical bag from you. He actually stumbles a little when you hand it over fully, completely taken aback by how heavy it is. He stares at you for a moment in absolute awe.

Gorgeous, intelligent, and strong. Aemond really did get so lucky with you.

“What?” You question, and he shakes his head, looking down to smile to himself.

The conservatory, of course, is where you find Viserys. But when Aemond steps into the room and sees his father sitting by the big windows, he freezes in shock, stomach dropping in unease. The sight of his father now shocks him greatly.

It has only been seven months since Aemond last saw him, and sure that might be more than half a year but Aemond didn’t think it was that long. Not that Viserys was the picture of health all those months ago, but this change is alarming.

Viserys is incredibly frail and thin now, skin a slight jaundice, and almost completely bald with only a few spots of hair left. He is staring out the window, milky eyes serene yet sad.

It takes Viserys a moment to glance over when you call him, but when he does, his mouth breaks into a wide smile when he notices Aemond beside you.

“My boy!” Viserys cries, voice hoarse and weak. “You’re here!”

Aemond takes a hard swallow, an attempt to keep down the bile and guilt threatening to spill out. His breathing shortens, hands clammy and shaky. He wants to turn and run and —

A hand slips to intertwine with his, soft and warm, squeezing his hand three times. He turns his head and meets your sweet gaze and easy smile, comforting beyond belief. As his breathing evens out and his hands become steady, your head tips towards his father, a silent question which he answers with a nod. And so together, you make your way towards the older Targaryen.

“Hello father,” Aemond greets, allowing you to take the medical bag from him so you scrounge through it while he takes his father’s hand to pay him respect.

“I see you’ve been doing well,” Viserys says with a kind smile after Aemond gets on one knee to press the back of his father’s hand onto his forehead.

Standing up straight, Aemond clears his throat again, blinking away the wetness in his eye while he nods. “Yes, I have been… How have you been doing, father?”

“I’ve been doing—” Viserys takes a pause to cough, a hacking sound that makes Aemond cringe, “— well, I could be doing better, if your lovely girlfriend or Samwell will allow me a sweet treat every once in a while.”

Your eyes roll without malice, pricking his finger to check his blood sugar. “Once your blood sugar level lowers then Samwell will let me know if you're allowed anything sweet. But until then… So rry !”

You flash him a toothy smile after you sing-song your apology that makes Viserys laugh. The older man exchanges a look with his son, one of shared fondness for you.

“Aemond, please catch me up! What have you been doing lately? How are classes going? I heard from ____ that you two went to a pottery class a few days ago, how was that?”

While you go through other tests and diagnostics to send to Sam, you allow them to catch up. Aemond was a little wooden with his answers at first, but as time went on, he became more comfortable. Especially when you would throw in a comment or joke here and there that would make the both of them laugh.

In the kitchen, you and Aemond work together to make a quick lunch. You show him his father’s meal plan, Aemond humming in understanding as explain to him the diet and why the food you are making helps. Before you take the food back to the conservatory, Aemond presses a tender kiss on your lips and thanks you for taking care of his father.

After lunch, Viserys challenges Aemond to a game of Cyvasse. Apparently, according to Viserys, Aemond is the only one who has ever come close to beating him. Aemond accepts, warning his father that just because he hasn’t been around, that doesn’t mean he is out of practice. Him, Jon, and Robb have a little competition going on some mobile game app.

Despite said practice, Aemond loses the first two games they play. He didn’t go down easily, though. Both games were some of the most intense games of Cyvasse you’ve ever witnessed. You’ve seen Viserys play against Jon, the security boys (Grenn, Pyp, and Eddison), and Sam; and you believe that Aemond is the only one who has come closest to defeating Viserys.

You had not realized that your boyfriend is so competitive. After he loses the third time, he sets up the board again for another.

This fourth game is going on for a while. The longest Cyvasse game you’ve ever watched, and yet, instead of being bored, you are sat, entranced with the back and forth of wit.

It wasn’t looking good for Aemond, your boyfriend rubbing his temple and sighing deeply during all his turns. Meanwhile, Viserys is sitting straight, serene, like everything is going to plan.

Viserys takes Aemond’s catapult off the board and you think it’s doomed. Judging by the way Aemond narrows his gaze on the board, scrutinizing every move he could make, he is probably thinking the same.

But then suddenly, a smirk lifts the corner of Aemond’s lips.

Slowly, his lithe fingers pick up his dragon and he moves — his eye flashing across to his father, triumph in that lilac gaze, a watch this — knocking over Viserys’ king piece.

Your mouth gapes, stunned. Did that just happen?

You glance between them, hand over your mouth, still unable to comprehend it. It had looked like Viserys was winning from your terrible understanding of the game. Even Aemond looked frustrated just a minute ago. But now…?

Aemond won.

The room is still and silent. Viserys looks dumbfounded, eyes searching the board for where he went wrong.

And then, after a long pause, Viserys breaks into a hearty laugh and proud smile. “Well done, my boy!”

He beckons Aemond over, and when Aemond does, Viserys wraps his arms around him. Aemond startles, hesitant, but slowly and surely, his arms wrap around his father as well.

Aemond peers at you from over Viserys’ shoulder, and you exchange smiles. Then he lets his eye close, burying his face into the crook of his father’s shoulder with a content sigh.

Your hands itch for a pen and paper to immortalize this moment forever.

a.t. 💗 🎵 talking to strangers · maisie peters

---

It is the perfect Saturday night.

Lights down low, your favorite romantic comedy movie on the television screen, food from your favorite restaurant scattered on the coffee table, and you are comfy on the couch, cuddling your favorite — Ghost.

Tonight, you and the direwolf are alone in the apartment, his owner out on a boy’s night . The same boy’s night that your boyfriend is also partaking on.

“So, Robb asked me to hang out with him and the other guys this Saturday.”

Aemond had tried to look cool and collected when he told you, but you could tell he was surprised and happy that he had been invited. It’s cute. You hope they’re having fun.

“But not too much fun. Amiright, Ghost?”

Ghost tilts his head from side to side several times, not understanding you. You giggle, hugging him closer.

You’re sure that the boys are just doing their usual bar hopping — with maybe a trip to the arcade or bowling thrown in. You just hope they don’t scare off or traumatize Aemond with their crazy escapades.

Theon sent you a snap just 15 minutes ago, with all of them in their Uber, singing (screaming) at the top of their lungs to ‘Can't Take My Eyes Off You’ since you told him what movie you were watching. Even their driver — Tormund, per the caption on the snap — was singing along with them. All of them were clearly already wasted to some degree. Though you only see Aemond for a quick second, he looks like he is having fun too, which makes you happy.

take care of my boyfriend or else, greyjoy 🤬

In which, Theon had just replied with:

*gulp* 🥴

You and the girls had a girl’s day earlier that morning as well, but it was much more tamed. Margaery treated you all to this fancy nail place where you can order drinks while getting your nails done. You got your nails painted a nice shade of red since the holidays are coming soon. You can’t wait to show Aemond, he always likes red on you.

It’s during the middle of The Princess Diaries when you hear the struggle outside your front door. You check the time on your phone – 2:03 AM – and assume it must be the boys bringing Jon home.

Pouting that you have to leave Ghost’s warmth, you squeeze him tight before you get up to pad over to the door. It’s clear that whoever is outside is trying to fit the key inside the lock, but isn’t successful with every muffled curse word you hear. Peering through the peephole, you are greeted with Robb’s forehead, so you unlock and open the door.

“Oh, thank Gods,” Robb rejoices, accidentally dropping Jon’s carabiner that holds his keys onto the ground. When he picks it up, that’s when you see Aemond’s holding up Jon behind him. The latter is so drunk he can barely stand on his own.

“Whoa…” You lean against the door, arms crossing, shaking your head at the state of your best friend. “Bowling?”

Jon is notoriously bad at bowling and whenever the boys do their bowling drinking game, it’s the only time Jon comes home absolutely plastered.

“Yup!” Robb proudly answers. “It was me and Aemond against Jon and Theon. Aemond and I won, clearly.”

“Clearly,” You say with a laugh. “Where’s loser #2?”

“He’s in the Uber, which I should get back to before he throws up all over it,” Robb says, handing you Jon’s keys. “It’s a Tesla, ____, and I can’t afford to pay cleaning fines right now after all the gift shopping I’ve done!”

“Alright, go, go!” You urge, and he gives you a quick hug and says his goodbye to Jon and Aemond — let’s do this again soon, lads! — before running off.

“ So… I’m guessing you had fun?” You ask Aemond, opening the door wide enough for him to drag both himself and Jon inside, pressing a kiss on his cheek when he passes by. Aemond hums happily and nods.

“ Uuurghhh… ”

“I wasn’t asking you , Jon. You obviously had too much fun. ”

It was a two person job to take Jon to his bedroom and tuck him into bed, but you and Aemond manage. You leave some Poppyvil and a glass of water on his bedside table before you and Aemond leave him with Ghost climbing up onto his bed.

Sitting at the kitchen table with your boyfriend, you talk softly between one another, telling each other about your day. You show off your pretty new set of nails, which he compliments, taking your hands and kissing each of your fingers. You laugh, realizing that although he isn’t as visibly drunk as Jon and Robb, he still is tipsy enough to do things that he usually wouldn’t do while sober.

During his turn to talk about his night, he takes a pause to hydrate. You watch him with your chin in the palm of your hand, visibly swooning at the sight of him. He is so regal and beautiful, and all he is doing is drinking water. The pretty curve of his neck exposed while his pretty Adam’s apple bobs with every swallow.

But then his head tips back to get what little is left in the cup, and your eyes snap wide open, awoken from your daydreaming.

Because right there, on his left earlobe that was obscured by his gorgeous silvery hair until this very moment, is a small silver hoop earring.

You gasp out loud, standing up from the chair swiftly while pointing at it. “What is that?!”

Aemond jumps slightly at your sudden exclamation, touching where you are pointing, then he laughs sheepishly as he remembers. So many things happened during the boy’s night that he almost forgot about it. “Oh, this…? Well, you see… the boys said they were all planning on getting one, and that I didn’t have to… But then Theon said that someone… well, nevermind — why? Does it look awful?”

You take a step towards him, fitting yourself in between his legs. Aemond naturally makes room for you, pleased to finally be so close to you after the whole day of being without.

From this close, you are able to fully admire his new piercing. The silver matches well with his undertone, you think as you gently trace the curvature of his ear, careful not to touch the still sensitive lobe.

He was already so unbelievably beautiful before, but now…

“Aemond, I’m sorry… I don’t think I can do this,” you say, voice low yet full of feelings, dramatic as you shake your head and your face crumples. Instantly concerned, Aemond quickly searches your face, putting his hands on your waist and pulling you toward him. He murmurs a soft and adorably confused darling, what are you…? but you continue, “I have very weak muscles. I can’t fight for my life. I mean, I’ll obviously try — I really will! But…”

You place your hands on both sides of his shoulders, sensually massaging down towards his chest and up again. Aemond’s eye goes wide, taking a hard swallow. “I don’t know if I can win against everyone who’s gonna go after you now that you have that piercing. Like, you were already hot before, but now you are downright criminally hot. I can’t fight, Aemond,” you lean down, whispering sultrily into his ear, “What if I don’t win?”

You feel his whole body shivering, his hands on you clutches tighter. “You have no competition. You’ll always win with me.”

“ Yeah…? ” You question softly, smirking with glee.

Aemond takes your chin gently between his fingers and turns your head toward him. The way he is looking at you has your heart beating incredibly fast. There is that twinkle in his eye that lets you believe that you can trust everything he says to you, that he will never lead you astray.

“Yes,” Aemond murmurs as he moves to hover his mouth over yours, his thumb tracing your jaw. “It’s only ever going to be you.”

He closes the space between you, kissing you hard and slow. His hand wraps around your neck, causing you to gasp softly which allows for Aemond to slip his tongue inside your mouth. It escalates after that, Aemond licking in your mouth with a moan, prying away for a moment just to catch your mouth at a different angle. Breaking apart then meeting over and over and over again.

Aemond tries to pull you into his lap, to get you going on his thigh like he knows you love to do, but you push away from him gently with a soft laugh. He pouts up at you, and you just shake your head.

“I wanna do something for you,” you whisper to him, turning his head to the side to press a sloppy kiss on his neck, just under his newly pierced earlobe.

“What—” Aemond cuts himself off with a choked groan, your knee rubbing over the growing bulge in his pants. His reaction has you giggling as you kiss down his neck.

His heavy lidded eye watches as you go down onto your knees, slow , with your hips swaying from side to side. Your hands are on his body the entire time, caressing down too.

A dance just for him, and he is captivated by it.

When your knees press against the wooden floor, you make Aemond spread his leg wider for you. Rubbing back and forth along his thighs, you deliberately avoid where he really wants to feel your touch.

“I wanna make you feel good,” you say with a lick of your lips.

Aemond squirms in his seat, clearly already pent up. “Sweetheart…”

This is supposed to be a treat, so you don’t tease him any further, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants effortlessly. Aemond lifts his hips, enabling you to pull his pants and boxer briefs down just below his knees, his length flopping up to his stomach.

You take him in your hand. Perfectly red nails wrapped around his flushed red, aching cock.

It’s a pretty sight, and you believe Aemond thinks so too, judging by the way he twitches in the palm of your hand, the tip of his cockhead oozing pre.

As soon as you start to stroke him, Aemond moans out loud, causing you to stop immediately. Brows drawing together in confusion, he whimpers like a wounded puppy, but you just press a finger to your smirking lips. “You have to keep quiet, Aemond. We can’t wake Jon or Ghost up,” slowly, using his precum to make your movements smoother, you begin to stroke him again, “Can you keep quiet for me, baby?"

Biting down hard on his bottom lip, Aemond only nods. Keeping quiet like he just promised.

Aemond is doing such a good job. Even when you start to play with his heavy balls — kneading and rolling it against your other palm — he doesn’t make a single sound. He is leaking profusely now, your hand dripping with him.

Fluttering your eyes up at him, you lean forward to kitten lick his spend trailing down the back of your hand still wrapped around his cock, and Aemond has to close his eye and pray to not say anything. A praise for you bitten at the tip of his tongue.

Noting the way he is struggling to keep quiet, you pump his shaft a few more times before you squeeze him tight just around the base. This causes his hip to thrust forward, his fist flying up so he can bite down on his knuckles.

“Baby,” you murmur, and Aemond opens his eye gradually, peering down at you. His chest is expanding greatly, breathing heavily. Your head turns sideways, sucking and kissing along the thickest vein on his cock, then ending with a broad lick around his tip. “Guide me, okay? Want to make it feel so good for you.”

Aemond nods, resting his hand on the back of your head, watching as you lower your mouth to his cock. The sheer size of him used to intimidate you, but you’ve had him down your throat enough times now that you know you can take him quite well.

Aemond shivers as your lips wrap around him, humming on your descent down. He tenderly tucks your hair behind your ear, getting a better look of himself disappearing inside your pretty mouth.

As your hot saliva coats him, the way you are hollowing your cheeks feels too good. His hand grips tight onto the back of your head, unable to stop himself from pushing your head deeper down on his cock. Soon, his tip hits the back of your throat, and you gag around him but he doesn’t let up — he is not fully inside yet. You are not giving up either, tapping your finger on his thigh to let him know you are capable of taking more.

He pulls you back a little, then he pushes you forward again, this time your nose is brushing into the hair around the base of his shaft and your mouth is stuffed full entirely of him. You swallow multiple times around him, your throat feeling the way he throbs and twitches uncontrollably.

Then he lets go of the back of your head, grinning down at you, allowing you to do your worst. You get sloppy with it, drool dripping all over his cock as you deepthroat him until he is becoming even more and more sensitive, his release coming soon.

Aemond can’t hold back anymore — a loud panting moan falling out of his thoroughly bitten lips.

You glance up — and if you weren’t already choking on his cock or had tears in your eyes, you definitely will have now.

The golden glow of shitty kitchen light serves as a divine halo around Aemond. With his head tipped back, mouth wide open in a muted moan, the silver of the piercing shining brilliantly — he looks like an angel.

Aemond comes beautifully, he always does.

You pull back enough for his cock to lay on your tongue, letting him shoot his load into your mouth. He softens on your tongue before you completely move away, and he watches as you swallow down his tangy taste without any complaint. Even wiping your messy mouth with a satisfied smile.

Aemond pulls you up to him, and you sit to the side on his lap while your hands intertwine behind his neck.

“Your turn,” Aemond says as his heated mouth finds yours.

You shake your head, giggling as he kisses along your jawline. “Nuh-uh, I’m tired. It’s like 3 AM, Aemond.”

“But—”

It is frantic scratching on a door and whimpering that pulls the two of you away from each other.

Alarmed, you meet each other's gaze.

Oh, no… You woke up Ghost. He is probably worried about all the noises he is hearing. Poor baby.

“Let’s let him out, calm him down, and then go to bed.”

“Right, Okay.”

“Aemond! Put your dick back in your pants first!”

“Shit, right!”

You laugh, kissing him while he does just that.

a.t. 💗 🎵 heart out · the 1975

---

Aemond has been visiting his father a lot lately. At least three times a week. Most of the time with you but there were some days he actually went on his own.

It’s strange, but nice. It feels like he is getting to know his father again. Repairing their relationship that his father had no idea was broken in the first place.

So when he gets a call from Viserys, asking him to come by with just him, Aemond gives him his word that he’ll be there after his last class of the day.

The last class ended up being canceled so he arrives at his father’s mansion earlier than expected, pulling up at the same time as his father’s nurse, Samwell.

“Hello Samwell,” Aemond greets with a nod, as they walk up the path together.

“Oh, hi Aemond!” Sam exclaims with glee. “It’s nice to see you around here again!”

“Yeah, it is,” Aemond smiles, helping Sam with the packages left out on the front door. While Sam unlocks the door, Aemond shifts from one foot to the other, pursing his lips to the side. “Can I ask you something?”

Entering the house together, and scuffing off the snow on the soles of their boots, Sam nods at Aemond. “Of course!”

Aemond takes a shallow breath. “How do you think he’s doing? Anything I should be concerned about?”

Samwell frowns, taking a moment to figure out how to say what he is going to say next. “To be honest, Aemond, he could be doing better. I’m actually here because the doctors are concerned about the numbers ___ sent us yesterday. They’re not so bad that it warrants an immediate visit to the hospital, but they are preparing a room for him to stay after his bi-weekly visit on Friday.”

Aemond hums, frowning. That doesn’t sound good.

Aemond follows Samwell around to look for his father, but they don’t find him in any of his usual spots. The conservatory, the living area, the kitchen, his bedroom — all empty.

It makes Aemond really nervous. Luckily Sam is there and he is more levelheaded. “Let’s split up. I’ll tackle upstairs and you check the other rooms on this floor, okay?”

They quickly get to work. Every room Aemond finds empty has dread running down his spine.

Where is he? Where is he? Where is he?

“Found him!” He hears Samwell cheerily call from somewhere on the second floor, allowing Aemond to let out a breath of relief.

Aemond climbs up the stairs, three steps at a time. He calls out, and when Samwell answers, he follows his voice.

He finds himself standing in front of an open door to a room that he has only been into once before.

Because it’s Aemma’s art room, Viserys’ first wife.

Inside, he can see Samwell already tending to his father, but Aemond stands there, not knowing what to do. It wasn’t forbidden for him to go in there, but it was a taboo between him and his siblings. And it seems that those made up rules are still ingrained in his head.

Because Aemma is the reason his father didn’t fully love his mother. Aemma is the reason his father didn’t love him or his other siblings. Aemma is the reason for the divorce. And Aemma is part of the reason for the will that he and Aegon found in the beginning of summer.

At least that was what they were all made to believe.

“Aemond, get over here,” Samwell beckons him over. Aemond sees his father wave to him weakly, smile weak as well, and so he swiftly walks towards where Viserys is sitting in front of an unfinished painting on an easel. A painting that hasn’t been worked on for 27 years.

“Are you well, father? Should we take you to the hospital?”

Visersy shakes his head. “No, no… I am fine. But can you…” He shakily points to another chair close by, “... bring that chair closer and sit down for me, please?”

Aemond does as he is told, settling down on the chair right in front of his father.

“I have something for you,” Viserys begins. Meanwhile Samwell is busy around them, doing all the things necessary for his job, his father is used to it so he continues, “Do you see that box over there?”

Aemond looks over to where his father is pointing and spies a small dark blue velvet box on the ledge of the easel.

“Can you grab it?”

Aemond reaches over, stretching out his arm and is able to grab hold of the box without moving from his chair.

Then Viserys urges him to open it with a smile, and so Aemond lifts open the box and what he sees has his brows narrowing together, unable to comprehend why it is in his hands.

It’s a ring — but that’s not what has him so confused.

Aemond knows what this opulent sapphire ring is. There are too many pictures of Aemma Targaryen around the mansion to not know.

“This is the highly-coveted Targaryan engagement ring, it’s been in our family for thousands and thousands of years… And I want you to have it, Aemond.”

Glancing up at his father, still confused, Aemond presses, “But… why?”

“I hope you don’t find it disrespectful, Aemond. I know it’s strange to give you a ring that was the engagement ring that I gave to a woman that wasn’t your mother. But it’s a family heirloom, and I always knew it was going to be passed down to one of my children to give to the person that they fall in love with — and I hope I am not being presumptuous to think that you are in love with ___, and I’m not pressuring you to be—”

“It’s alright,” Aemond cuts him off with a soft smile. “I am… I am in love with her.”

It’s cathartic to finally say it out loud. Now that he has done it, he wants the whole world to know.

He and his father share a look, his father appears to be so happy for him.

But wait—

“You want me to ask her to marry me?” Aemond questions, eye widening in bewilderment.

“No, no!” Viserys shakes his head, laughing. “Not if you’re not ready! You can do it whenever it feels right for you two — if it ever feels right… I know feelings can change, and all that…”

“I don’t think my feelings for her will ever change,” Aemond says, so sure of it. “But I’m not sure we’re quite ready for that yet. We both still have college to finish…”

Viserys nods, understanding. “I still want you to keep it. Even if you want to buy her a different ring, or how you youths these days don’t even find the point in marriage…” He stops to laugh, and even Samwell chuckles a bit, “You can hand it down to your children.”

“Thank you, father…” Aemond murmurs, glancing down at the ring. In his head, he imagines himself giving it to you during some grand gesture— and then another during a small one. Many different scenarios drift though his vivid imagination, and each one feels right. The ring on your dainty finger would look so right. It’s meant for you.

“Just one condition…” His father holds out his shaky hand, and Aemond cocks his head, questioning. “I get to have a front row seat… and Samwell too, along with his wife, Gilly.”

Aemond laughs, nodding along as he takes his father’s hand to shake on it. “Alright. I think ___ will also agree to that.”

“Fantastic! Gilly loves weddings!” Samwell comments, overhearing the deal.

Aemond and father talk a while more, until Samwell wraps up.

“Okay, lunch time!” Samwell announces. “Aemond, would you like to give me a hand?”

“Of course.”

But the two of them don’t even make it out the door before they hear hacking and rough coughing behind them.

Aemond turns, just in time to witness his father falling, hitting his head hard against the floor. His body convulses after the impact, moving erratically.

Something is not right.

Aemond pales, blood rushing to head, feeling faint.

Is this really happening? This cannot be happening.

Samwell rushes past him to attend to his father.

Meanwhile, Aemond stands there and stares.

Horrified and frozen.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #hotd imagine #hotd smut #aemond #aemond targaryen #hotd

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lisbeth-kk · 2 days

Text

May Prompts (15) Nightmare

The Luckiest Girl in the World (chapter 15)

Summary: Rosie tells us about her family's sanctuary that is 221B, but also about wars over board games. In the end, it's the story about someone else who also needs a safe haven.

Fifteen Years Old

I felt oddly protective of our home from an early age, and I didn’t want it invaded by my friends. Not that I was ashamed of all the bric-a-brac, Papa’s experiments, or how different it was to other homes I’d visited. It was just...our space, a safe haven where we all could lower our guards, Papa in particular. Over the years, his fame had increased exceedingly, and his derisive façade kept journalists and fans at bay. The moment he entered 221B, he discarded said façade by hanging his coat on the peg.

Another thing to consider, were the battles that always ensued whenever one of us challenged the others to a board game. Having an outsider witnessing that…well, we’d surely be sectioned for life if that were to occur.

(More likely, the person would be granted vicious dreams for eternity.)

But as Papa points out; there’s always something. In this context, someone. My friend Liwia. Her parents were Polish, and moved to England two years before Liwia was born. They were Catholics, and having to adjust to a society that was more liberal toward queer people than Poland, took its time. When Liwia came out to them as a lesbian the year prior, they’d tried to pin it on her friendship with me. I was after all related to quite a few of the sort and Liwia’s parents seemed to believe the ludicrous lie that queerness was contagious.

It took them some months to get over it, but once they realised that Liwia still was her normal self, they discarded the original idea of sending her to Poland to live with her strictly religious grandparents. Neither of the Barczykowskis was prepared when said grandparents announced that they were visiting London that summer, staying for at least a fortnight.

***

Dad and I were in the middle of a Scrabble war, when Papa came home. Not that we realised it at the time. We were too engrossed in arguing.

“It’s bloody unfair to use all the medical terms and diseases you can come up with to win, you know!” I exclaimed accusatory.

“Oh, come now, Rosebud,” Dad teased, looking as pleased as the cat that ate the canary.

“Don’t you dare Rosebud me,” I said through clenched teeth.

Dad only used that pet name when we were at war over the board games, and it rubbed me up the wrong way.

“Children,” Papa chastised, barely able to suppress his glee.

“You’re home,” we said in unison.

I waited for the inevitable eyeroll and his obviously, but none came.

“We have a guest,” Papa said and waved a hand, and that’s when I saw Liwia standing by the sofa wringing her hands, a look of despair in her eyes.

I leapt to my feet and walked over to hug her tight.

“What’s wrong?” I whispered into her hair.

She explained about her grandparents, and with just one look over at Papa, receiving a nod, I turned back to assure my friend that she could stay at Baker Street for as long as she needed, if her biased grandparents started to make her life a living nightmare.

“Thank you, Mr. Holmes and Doctor Watson,” Liwia said politely.

I could literally see the relief wash over her, the tension in her shoulders dissipating and a tiny smile forming on her lips.

“Please, call us John and Sherlock,” Dad said.

Then he turned his attention to me with a devilish grin.

“Does this mean you declare defeat, Rosebud?”

“You wish!” I snarled and left Liwia’s side to go into battle with my father.

(Before you go all bananas on me - this will continue tomorrow...)

Also available on AO3

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @raina-at @helloliriels

More tags in the replies.

#may prompts 2024 #may 15: nightmare #sherlock fandom #rosie watson #sherlock #john watson #johnlock #bbc sherlock #sherlock fanfic #ao3 fanfic

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dragonnarrative-writes · 1 day

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Part 3 - Oakmoss

Autumn Embers Masterlist

CW: Omegaverse scent-heavy flirting, food related flirting, Brandon (derogatory)

It’s three weeks later that Sergeant Garrick catches you walking out of your building at the end of the day. You’re more distracted than usual - trying to decipher a text from Jack about his upcoming heat - so you’re almost on top of him before you realize. His smile is genuine when you jump back from nearly stepping on his boot.

“Sorry!”

“No harm done,” he assures you. His hand comes forward. “Sergent Kyle Garrick.”

“We’ve met,” you point out, allowing a short, comfortable handshake.

His grin goes a little bit sheepish when he takes his hand back. “Well, I had to introduce myself better than Soap, at least. That’s MacTavish.”

“Ah,” you say. “Well… good to meet you.”

“The team wanted to thank you, for the information,” he continues. “It was very helpful. That Lawrence guy would have had us runnin’ in circles. We also, uh,” he shuffles his feet a bit, and looks away. “We didn’t want to overstep. By offering a gift before clearing it with you.”

Oh, he thinks he’s clever. You arch an eyebrow, “You want me to give your pack permission to give me gifts, Sergent Garrick?”

“I told them you’d catch on too fast,” he laughs.

At least he has the decency not to deny it. Here you had been tying yourself into knots about being too emotional in a meeting, and now a pretty man is asking permission for his pack to court you. Part of you is relieved. The last thing you need is more alphas pissed off at you, prowling around the base looking for a pissing contest.

Another part of you is annoyed.

You carefully regulate your breathing. “Yeah, I’m pretty good at catching these kinds of things by now. But you don’t have to thank me for doing my job.” You sidestep him and start walking toward the car park.

Sergent Garrick falls into step beside you. “I’ve offended you.”

You sigh. Of course he’d be sensitive to the way your scent changes. You practically scent burned him in a closed room. You step to the side of the walkway and turn to face him. “I’m sure you and your pack are wonderful, sergeant, but I’ve had a long day.”

His smile is charming. “Anything we can do to help?”

“Not approaching me with a courting offer at my workplace would be a good start,” you say, blandly. You watch his face muscles twitch through confusion, shock, and a tinge of horror before continuing. “While I’m flattered that you would tell your pack about me, I prefer to keep things professional on base. And I’m sure your team would prefer that as well. Have a nice night.”

“Wait,” He reaches out, but has the good sense not to touch you. “Would it be better, then, to maybe approach you off-base?”

Why do alphas think I’ll find you elsewhere is ever a good thing to imply? “Like how Sergeant MacTavish approached me at the bar?” He doesn’t seem to have anything to say to that. You take a step back, his confusion tickling your nose. “I’m not really interested in being the subject of whatever competitive thing you have going. Have a good night, Sergeant.”

By the time you get back to your car, you’re not mad anymore. Just tired. You climb into the drivers seat and tip your head back with a sigh. Garrick and MacTavish aren’t the first alphas to want to try taming the Wildfire, and they won’t be the last. But it still stings. For once, it’d be nice if someone saw you and thought you were pretty and interesting instead of just a challenge to conquer.

You let yourself have a few more seconds of self-pity before you strap in and start the car. You’ll give Jack a call, make plans for his heat, and leave the sergeants to do their thing.

The next day, when you get to your office, there’s a travel cup of hot coffee from your favorite coffee shop on the edge of your desk, along with a gift card and a note. You don’t really think much of it - coffee from Sherry as a reward for a job well done isn’t unheard of - but the the gift card for 25 pounds is a bit excessive. The unfamiliar handwriting on the note catches your eye.

Please accept this apology for yesterday.

It’s signed by Captain John Price. That’s… interesting. Speaks well to the cohesion of the 141 that Sergeant Garrick would let him know that he made you uncomfortable. Hopefully this means that neither of the sergeants will be dogging your steps. On the other hand, an almost perfect coffee made it to your office somehow. You’re still dealing with a bit of overbearing alpha bullshit. But apology bullshit is better than the alternative, so you settle in for your day.

By lunch, you’ve pushed the note to the back of your mind. When Sherry walks in, you expect a conversation about taking on Jerry’s workload with his upcoming parental leave. You don’t expect her to place a paper bag from the very fancy sandwich shop across town onto your desk. You can smell warm bread and something else in there.

“Special delivery,” she says. Before you can pull the bag close to poke around, she holds out a folded piece of paper. “Ah, ah! I was told to give you this first.”

“What? Sherry, let me… eat.”

Please accept this offer as a formal request to discuss an intention of courtship. Captain Johnathan Price Lieutenant Simon Riley Sergeant Kyle Garrick Sergeant Johnathan MacTavish

Each of the signatures is different. You look from the note to Sherry’s curious face and back down. You’re glad you have so much practice locking down your scent, because your emotions are all over the place. You flash her a quick smile as you refold the note and stick it under the edge of your keyboard.

“Thanks, I’ll take care of it.”

She nods, with a nervous smile of her own. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” you lie, hoping she doesn’t pick up on the spike of your scent as your heart races. “The 141 had a successful mission after that awful meeting with Brandon and that CIA agent.”

“Oh! Well that’s good,” she says with a sharp nod. She knocks twice on the edge of your desk before she turns to leave. “You always do good work. Least those boys could do is buy you lunch.”

Once she’s gone, you wait a few seconds, then get up to quietly close your door. And then you eye the fancy paper bag on your desk like it’s a bomb. You circle back to pick up the note, read it, fold it, open it to read again.

You snap a picture and send it to the group chat. Then snap a picture of the gifts and note from this morning. You re-re-re-read the second note again.

When you phone rings, you pick up without looking. “What do I do?”

Jack wails into your ear. “Bitch, what do you MEAN what do you do?”

“Do I open it?”

“Open what?”

You snap a picture of the stamped bag sitting on the edge of your desk and send it to the chat. “They sent this with-”

Chrissy’s icy voice startles you. “If you don’t show me what’s in that bag right now I will scream.”

“What if opening it is accepting it?” When the phone chirps in your ear, you hiss, “I can’t do a video call, I’m in my office.”

“Quit stalling,” Chrissy snaps. “Open the bag.”

You pull it closer, then pause. “Should we wait for Mel?”

“NOW,” Jack bellows.

“I’m also at work,” Mel’s says, steady and unbothered. “So please stop yelling.”

The bag crinkles a bit when you pull it closer, silencing everyone. You’re not sure why you’re holding your breath, but it comes out in a little huff of disappointment when you look inside and the first thing you see is napkins.

“Okay,” you whisper, as you start pulling things out. The first food item you find is a roll. “We have… bread, still warm. A half of a sandwich - ooh! The goat cheese and pear one. A half salad,” you squint through the translucent lid. “It looks like it has berries. Oh, it looks like there’s a soup in here, too, nice. And the utensils. And…”

When you don’t say anything else, Jack prompts you. “And?”

“There’s a, uh,” you cover your eyes as your face flushes. “It’s a cake.”

The silence is deafening. You make yourself peek into the unassuming box, and the four-inch, round cake positively dripping with what smells like orange syrup, spices, and the faintest hint of alcohol. Your face gets even hotter when you connect the dots and realize the cardamom you’re smelling reminds you of Sergeant Garrick.

It’s Mel who breaks the silence, clearing their throat before asking, “Did they get you a custom cake from the Trinity Rose?”

You can’t make yourself say anything, so you take a picture of it for the group chat. Then a couple more at different angles, because the curl of orange and peel on top looks like something out of a movie. You hear when the photos load, each of your friends sucking in a quiet breath. Chrissy must mute her mic, because the background noise drops significantly.

“Someone please say something,” you whisper.

Jack says, “Holy shit.”

“What does it smell like?” Mel asks, cutting to the chase. “Is it good?”

“It smells so good,” you admit. “Like… ridiculously good.”

Chrissy comes back on the line, sounding a little breathless. “They apologized with coffee this morning?”

“Yeah-”

“So this wasn’t part of the apology,” she continues. “Guys, this is. This is a legit courtship thing.”

“The website says they offer courtship packages,” Mel confirms. “It’s pretty cute, a subscription service for lunch. But it doesn’t actually include a cake.”

“There’s gotta be at least a two week wait on something like this.” You say it as soon as you realize it. Embarrassment flashes hot and cold down your entire body and you have to cover your face. “Oh gods, this had to be planned in advance.”

Chrissy hisses, “The bakery at the Trinity Rose is award winning. Of course this was planned in advance.”

“Wait, are they all in a pack?” Jack yelps. “All four of them? And they’re all alphas? There has to be more to the pack than that, right?”

Mel makes a disagreeing sound. “If there were more, they’d have signed. This is a very formal pre-courtship gift. Well. Mostly formal.”

You have to resist chewing on your lip. “Should I eat it?”

“No reason to waste a perfectly nice lunch,” they point out. Jack and Chrissy make agreeing noises. “But I’d probably wait to eat the cake until you get home.”

“So I can think about it?”

“What? No. You’ve already decided to hear them out,” Mel dismisses. “I just wouldn’t eat a sex cake at work.”

That startles a squawking laugh out of you. “It’s not a sex cake!”

“Oh, so they got a custom syrup cake that matches your scent as a platonic gesture?” Chrissy challenges.

“…There’s a little bit of cardamom,” you admit. “That’s Sergeant Garrick’s scent.”

“It’s a sex cake,” Mel confirms over the train whistle noise Chrissy makes before she can mute herself again. “When Garrick shows up to escort you to your car this evening, maybe don’t chew his head off.”

“Oh no,” you groan. Your head thumps against your arm as you throw yourself down onto the desk. “He was trying to ask for permission to court me and I was a complete bitch to him.”

You deserve the laughter of your best friends for that. But eventually, you rally. If you’re actually going to enjoy your lunch, you have to start eating now or you’ll have to eat and work later. You start with the sandwich and mute your mic as you take a huge bite. By unspoken agreement, the conversation shifts to the weekend and Jack’s heat, then Chrissy’s client who insists on in person meetings three days before her heat. Mel lets you all ramble for a good twenty minutes before ushering everyone off the phone since Jack is the only one who doesn’t have deadlines and scheduled clients.

Which leaves you staring at the cake.

Your eyes dart to the still closed door of your office, then back. You’re too full of good food to eat a whole cake, but… a bite couldn’t hurt. And while the gift is definitely a little… suggestive… it’s not actually a sex cake. Just a bit... decadent. Sherry’s husband sends her flowers that match their pack’s scents. That’s basically the same thing.

Right?

Before you can second guess yourself, you scoop a bite into your mouth.

The taste that bursts over your tongue makes you moan out loud. You definitely should have waited until you got home. The cake is so rich, cut by the orange and whiskey in a way that almost demands a second bite. There’s something indescribable teasing the back of your palate, hidden by cardamom and the hint of something - raspberry? - but so distinctly there. When you try to focus on it, you keep coming back to a smokiness that can’t be anything but the alcohol.

Before you know it, you’ve eaten a quarter of the little cake. Your stomach feels warm, and you admit to yourself that it’s probably not a good idea to keep consuming alcohol at work. So you close the little box and lick the fork while you log back into your computer one handed. Your lips are sticky. Even after you use your thumb to help clean them off you’re so aware of them.

You catch yourself pursing and rolling your lips through the rest of your day. You can’t resist taking another bite every now and then. Every time, you remember Mel calling it a sex cake and wonder if Captain Price thought about this when placed the order. You remember the way Lieutenant Riley’s eyes had slid down your body. Had he known he wanted to send you this cake then? Did Sergeant MacTavish imagine you licking your fork when he signed the note? Was Sergeant Garrick thinking about this moment when he saw you yesterday?

When the day ends, you send a picture of the cake with more than a third missing to the group chat as you log out. I fucked up, it’s a sex cake.

Beta Daddy: Told you.

Best Bitch: WHAT DOES IT TASTE LIKE

Barbie: drinks at mel and jax tonite

You: :thumbsup:

You: genuinely no idea how to describe, i’ll try tonight

You’re nervous, closing up shop for the evening. Would Sergeant Garrick be waiting for you again? Or will your hyper-independence come back to bite you? You hope someone will be there to walk you, and the possibility of that not being the case cools you. And then you look back at the box of cake in your hands and flush hot. Maybe it’s better that you don’t run into anyone after an entire afternoon of rubbing your lips and thinking of the 141.

You’re shocked out of your musings just before you can exit the building by Brandon of all people calling your name. With a groan, you’re dropped back to reality. You at least let yourself step outside for some fresh air before he can reach you.

“Sherry said the 141 had a question for you. What was it?” Not even a hello. Typical. Thanks a lot, Sherry.

Luckily, you have a lie prepared. “Just another question about Cloudstone.”

“What question?” He steps closer, trying to use his height to intimidate. “I’m the point of contact, they should be speaking to me directly.”

“Hm. Maybe should’ve reached out to you,” Lieutenant Riley’s voice says from behind your right shoulder. “Got a lo’ of info on alpha enhancements, then?”

Brandon’s shocked, offended scent almost drowns out the Lieutenant’s. Almost. You tilt your head before you realize you’re doing it, and catch that hint of something that you’ve been chasing all afternoon, earthy and intriguing. Your mouth waters. You barely stop yourself from biting your lip and tune back into the conversation.

“I wasn’t able to give them an answer today,” you butt in, before Brandon can get too worked up. “I’ll CC you on the email when I have everything.”

“Fine,” Brandon says, glaring daggers at the Lieutenant.

And then the three of you just… stand there.

Behind you, Lieutenant Riley smells amused. “Dismissed.”

Brandon gapes at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’re dismissed. Unless you have more to add on the subject.”

Being caught between clashing alphas is not how you thought today would end. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see people look at Lieutenant Riley, then at Brandon, and then visibly decide to wait to exit the building. When you start to inch away, the lieutenant touches just beneath your left shoulder blade with the tips of his fingers. You freeze with a sharp inhale. Brandon looks between the two of you. Then his face settles into a sneer.

“Think hard about what you say next,” Lieutenant Riley ways with almost no inflection. Brandon’s face freezes and goes a little pale. You remember, suddenly, that the man at your back is also called the Ghost. “Because challenging me won’t go well for you. Walk away under your own power.”

The resonance of his voice combines with the way his scent teases your olfactory nerves and sends a shiver through you. You’re suddenly aware of the warmth that’s been building behind your bellybutton all afternoon. You don’t hear the next thing Brandon says. He’s too focused on his own offense to notice your distraction, thank the gods, but -

One of the fingers at your back taps you gently, once, twice. And then you feel the gentlest scrape of a fingernail against your shirt.

“I have to go,” you squeak, taking a step toward the parking lot. To Brandon, you say “I will make sure I email you first thing in the morning.”

You can see Brandon’s jaw working, but no matter how irritated he is, he’s outmatched and he knows it. After a moment, he answers. “See that you do.”

“’Ll walk you,” Lieutenant Riley intones. “Wanna make sure I understand the answer to the Captain’s question.” He turns his back to Brandon and gestures for you to continue walking.

A part of you wants to see what will happen if Brandon answers the obvious insult. It’s not hard to imagine the crunch of his body hitting the pavement, the way the Ghost might growl down and force him to yield. Another, loud part of you needs to not get this wet standing right outside of your office. So you hustle away and try to cool yourself down.

Of course, the Lieutenant is right beside you. You chance a glance up - he’s so tall! - at his face, covered today by a black surgical mask. His brown eyes catch yours and crinkle at the edges as he smiles, but he doesn’t say anything. Just keeps walking with you until you’re standing next to your car.

“Sorry,” he says, looking across the car park. “Weren’t my intention to cause trouble.”

“No,” you say, fidgeting with the edge of your jacket and looking at your keys in your hand. “It’s not your fault, I, um, I told my coworker that lunch was work-related. I guess she told Brandon.”

He nods. “Tha’s fair. Should I tell the Cap’n that lunch was work-related?”

When you look back up, he’s already gazing back at you. There’s just enough light to see his eyes darken as he tips his head up just a bit. He’s scenting you, his effect on you. You feel your face get hot as you look away from him again.

He gives an amused-sounding huff. “Need time to think about it?”

Do you? “No, I… I would be open to discussing an intention of courtship.”

Lieutenant Riley purrs. It’s deep and gravely, but unmistakable for anything else. The sound startles you into meeting his eyes. This time, he holds your gaze and takes a step forward, then another when you back up until you bump into your car. He doesn’t come any closer, but his eyes say that he wants to.

“Skipper wants to meet somewhere open,” he says. “The Spice Garden has a nice outdoor space, if you’re free Saturday.”

You almost say yes, but catch yourself. “I… have to help my friend through his heat this weekend.”

He nods his head, never breaking eye contact. “Next week, then.”

You do a quick calculation in your head. “I can be free tomorrow evening by… seven, as long as things aren’t too… formal.”

“Won’t be formal,” he assures you. “Cap insisted on a gift and formal invitation, but we don’t stand too much on ceremony. Bit unconventional, far as packs go.”

You nod, too fast. “Okay. I… does tomorrow work?”

“If you wanted us tonight, you could have us,” he answers, eyes crinkling again. He takes a step back, looking at the box in your hand, then back into your eyes. “Tomorrow then. Enjoy the cake.”

#dragonnarrativewrites fanfiction #poly 141 #omegaverse #autumn embers verse #manic pixie dream ghost

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daydreams-after-dark · 1 day

Text

What's your fanfic fantasy? part 4

Chapter Contents.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 // Part 10 // Part 11 // Part 12 // Part 13 // Part 14 //

Chapter summary: chan helps you fulfil a fantasy of sensual sex with a stranger.

Premise: OFC + Chan + Jisung 18+ fanfic. This is an AU story about Chan bringing your fantasies to life... but what happens when boyfriends Chan and Han fall in love with you?

Content Warnings: nudity, anonymous sexual encounter, blindfolds, anal fingering, blow job, angst, p in v unprotected sex.

You look out to the ocean from your balcony window. You're trying to calm your nerves and simultaneously build up the courage to go downstairs to make yourself some breakfast.

Why oh why did you send Chan that message last night? Admittedly, it was a very impulsive thing to do, and in hindsight you should have thought it through a bit more.

You hadn’t even considered what Chan might have thought. What if he doesn’t feel comfortable approaching a band member and saying “Hey do you wanna fuck y/n - and oh yeah, she won’t know it’s you?" Maybe he doesn’t want to make it look like you sleep around (not that that is even a bad thing)? Or what if none of them want to do it.

Oh my God. What if none of them want to fuck you? You shake your head. Get a grip.

Eventually, your hunger becomes too much and you head downstairs to the kitchen.

The kitchen is one of those gorgeous gourmet ones you see on Pinterest, and looks out onto a large living area that has enormous sliding doors, which opens out onto the ocean. It’s an absolutely gorgeous space, perfect for a creative getaway.

You hope that no one will be in there since you had waited well past what would be considered “breakfast” time to make your way down.

You tentatively peek your head in, and to your relief no one is there. Thank fuck. You survey the kitchen counter to see what you should eat, and see a cloche covering a plate with a note on top.

“Please eat me!”

You lift the covering to find fresh brownies underneath. Felix must have arrived. Felix isn’t in the band but he manages their tech. Plus he’s known the guys forever, and he makes the best brownies.

“Hey there.” you turn, startled, your mouth stuffed full of brownie.

It’s Jisung.

“You look good with your mouth full.” He teases and raises an eyebrow.

You manage to swallow your mouthful and stick your tongue out at him.

“Oh you want something else in you mouth do you?” he chuckles. “Actually, y/n. You’re not avoiding us this morning are you?” his tone turns serious. “You didn’t come down for breakfast.”

You shake your head “I was just tired.” you reply. He doesn’t believe you. You can see it in his face.

“You are… you’re okay with what happened yesterday then?” He looks at you intensely.

“Yes. Yes. Yesterday was fucking incredible.” you assure him, truthfully. It was incredible, but it’s the aftermath that has you confused. Confused about your feelings, your desires, about Chan and Jisung, and what they might be feeling.

“But?” he pushes.

“But nothing.” you respond more hastily than you intended.

He leans in “You weren’t freaked out when Chan fucked me were you?” he whispers.

Your breath hitches and your core aches at his words. “No! Everything is fine.” you reiterate.

Jisung nods. “Okay.” He seems reassured enough for now. “So, what about this blindfold thingy?” He changes the subject.

Your eyes widen. Of course Jisung would know about your message to Chan, but it doesn’t make you any less embarrassed.

“What did Chan say?” you ask with too much enthusiasm.

“He said-” Jisung begins.

“Jisung, y/n.” Chan is standing at the door, wearing grey sweats and loose t-shirt, but you can’t help picturing him shirtless and thrusting into Jisung. Oh God. You steady yourself.

“Hey babe!” Jisung skips over to him and plants a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

Chan ushers you both over to the couch where he and Jisung sit across from you and you sit there nervously playing with the fabric of your shorts. You feel like you're about to be scolded by two parents.

“So y/n. I suppose we owe you an explanation?” begins Chan.

You shake your head. “Not really - ”

“We do. You see Jisung and I…” Chan pauses. “We're together. In a relationship. Boyfriends.” He continues matter of fact. Jisung squeezes Chan’s thigh and smiles at him. Jisung is so fucking in love, you can see it on his face. Why hadn’t you noticed this sooner?

“Okay.” you nod.

“Only the band members know.” adds Jisung, and you catch his smile falter ever so slightly.

“Well, that’s wonderful that you are both together. And I am glad that you are okay with me knowing.” You're genuinely happy for them.

Chan’s expression turns serious, pained even. “We also need to know if you have any concerns about yesterday? If we need to do anything...Fix anything?”

You can’t stop thinking about yesterday. You couldn’t stop thinking about it last night when you were alone in your bed. Jisung had certainly succeeded in his mission, and now you really can’t get him out of your head.

“Yesterday was great. I thought we all had a good time? Didn’t we?” You're really worried that they regret it.

“Oh y/n, we did! Didn’t we Chan? Y/n you were so- ” Chan raises his hand to cut Jisung off. “Jisung, calm yourself or you are gonna get yourself horny again, and I don’t have the energy.”

Jisung’s phone beeps. “Shit, it’s Binnie. I’ve got a training session with him. Leg day.” He gets up to leave and Chan gives him a love tap on the way past.

“Hey! Don’t touch my butt!” he cries, “Unless you’re going to fuck me!” he adds as he bounds out of the room. Chan smirks and you hide a giggle.

It’s just you and Chan now. The room is silent.

“So," Chan scratches his head and grins nervously. “You want to talk about this blindfold fantasy?”

-----------------------------------

Later… (a/n: some of you may recognise the following scenario as a standalone oneshot, but this where I wrote it originally. I apologise in advance if that makes this installment underwhelming. the chapter ends a little differently to the oneshot too.)

You walk down the dimly lit hallway towards one of the unused bedrooms. You've decided this scenario will take place in a space that no one is using, to really maximize the mysteriousness of it.

Butterflies are going absolutely crazy in your stomach, and you tug your satin robe tighter around you trying to settle them down. You feel very sexy and feminine wearing nothing but the robe. The cream floral print against a gold background makes you feel like a queen.

You approach the designated door and knock.

“Come in.” Chan calls from within the room.

You swallow hard and push open the door.

You're immediately taken aback. The room is stunning. The décor is dark and moody, with the walls painted a dark grey blue, and the furniture looks as though it’s antique. Paintings of abstract naked women are hung around the room.

There are various stained-glass lamps, emanating a seductive glow, and there is music playing low in the background. It sounds like French music. A woman’s voice seductively fills the room.

Then there’s the bed. Huge, King sized, so plush and high set. Chan is laying propped up against the dark timber headboard, he almost looks lost leaning amongst the generous number of over sized plush pillows. He’s wearing black tracksuit pants and a muscle tee. It looks out of place in such a sensually styled room.

“What do you think?” Chan gestures around the room.

“Th-this,” you stammer. “It’s amazing Chan.” You move towards the bed, stretching out your hand to touch the dark green quilt. It’s luxurious on your fingertips. You run your hand along the fabric as you move closer to the head of the bed. Someone’s going to fuck you on this.

You perch on the side of the bed facing away from Chan. Your feet barely reach the floor, and you notice the black blindfold laid out neatly on the bedside table. Next to it is a bottle of coconut oil.

“How are you feeling? Are you okay?” Chan reaches out to touch your hand that’s resting beside you on the bed.

You inhale deeply and then slowly release your breath. How are you feeling? It’s a mixture of feelings really. You're so very nervous. That, you already know. But, you're also… excited. The idea of what’s about to happen is truly thrilling to you. You hope Chan doesn’t think you're too much. You don’t want him to judge you.

You turn to him. “You don’t think badly of me do you?” you ask him.

He looks surprised and squeezes your hand. “Of course I don’t think badly of you, babygirl.” He gazes deep into your eyes. “I just want to make you happy, and to feel good.” He sits up. “Y/n. I was worried you think badly of me! I was worried I might’ve pushed into something you didn’t really want to do.”

You shake your head profusely. “No! I loved yesterday.” you assure him. You sigh. “You seem so confident, and sure of things… you’ve got yourself sexually figured out and not ashamed of it. I feel like I don’t know anything about myself. I never imagine in a million years I would be living out a fantasy like this…I would normally be too ashamed to ever voice such a desire.” You say shrilly.

He laughs and goes quiet. “Well Jisung thinks I’m ashamed, ashamed of him, and that’s why we haven’t come out.” He sighs, a pained look in his eyes, “But it’s not that at all. I’m not ashamed of him… it’s just the world isn’t a very accepting place. I don’t want Jisung to get hurt.”

You reach up and cup his face. “This is why I love you. You are just too caring. We all love you for it.”

Chan smiles and then his focus switches like a light switch. “We gotta get you ready!” He practically jumps off the bed and moves around to the side of the bed you're sitting on. He takes your hand and you slide off the bed.

You'd already discussed the details of how you were going to do this, covering safe words and safe gestures, what positions you are going to be in, and these had been relayed to whoever was going to be participating.

You stand in front of Chan facing away from him. There is tension in the air. Your breath feels wobbly. He steps closer to you and you can feel his breath on your neck and a pang in your chest. You really wish he’d kiss you. He slowly reaches around, careful not to touch you too much, Why doesn’t he want to touch you? and pulls at your robe’s tie belt.

It comes loose easily and allows your robe to fall open. Chan delicately pulls it off your shoulders letting it drop to the floor. You were now standing completely naked in front of Chan, and only Chan.

He had seen you naked only just a day ago, but that was in the throws of lust. It wasn’t planned. This feels more intimate and you're feeling self conscious. He hasn’t been this close to your naked body. Goosebumps form on your skin. It isn’t cold in the room, Chan had thought of that too and had made the room a comfortable temperature. He’s so fucking considerate. You smile to yourself.

You close your eyes in a bid to compose yourself. Fuck. You're really doing this.

Chan takes your hand again and grabs the blindfold in the other. He steadies you as you climb onto the bed where he resumes the position of laying down but propped up against a pillow and headboard. He directs you to sit between his legs facing away from him, and carefully places the blindfold over your eyes and securing it at the back of your head. Your senses immediately heighten. This feels so erotic.

“Lean back on me.” He whispers as he guides you to lean back onto his fully clothed body. You can feel his hard, toned muscles flexing underneath you, and his breathing is strained. Is he nervous? You can feel an erection beginning to dig into your back. Is this turning him on?

You imagine what this must look like, your exposed, naked body with Chan’s strong legs on either side of yours. You don’t know what to do with your hands so you rest them on your stomach. You don’t know where Chan’s arms and hands are, only that they aren’t touching you. You wish he’d wraps his arms around you. You wish he’d caress your body.

For a moment you try to imagine what it would be like if he did touch you. The sensation of him squeezing your breasts, pinching a nipple, sliding his hands over your body. Then you remember why you're here. For a mystery fuck. A small moan escapes you. Did he hear you?

Chan nuzzles his face into your neck, resting his chin on your left shoulder. It’s the closest he’s been to you. “You already imagining a stranger inside you, hmm?” he whispers. You whimper. His voice turns you on beyond belief.

You don’t have chance to answer because there is a knock on the door. You suck in a breath. This is actually happening.

“Come in.” Chan calls out. You hear the door creak open and then close.

“Are you ready to begin?” Chan whispers in your ear.

“Mmm hmm, yes.” you reply.

“Good, because I think you are going to really enjoy this.”

He takes hold of your hands and places them on the bed either side of your body, using his hands to hold them down out of the way so you can’t go ahead and touch your anonymous lover. You had requested this. It makes you feel like you're being forcefully held in place, although you know you can change things if you want.

You feel the mattress dip slightly. Someone is climbing onto the bed near your feet. Who can it be? Is it Changbin? Or could it be Minho? Felix? Could it be Jisung?

A hand touches your ankle. You shudder, then very slowly and delicately it makes it way up to the side of your knee. Their touch is light and feathery. You swallow.

Then you feel a mouth, a moist, plush mouth just above your knee. You think he is about to take the kisses up your leg, but instead takes his kisses back down, making his way down to your ankle. It feels so sensual. Who do these lips belong to?

Chan releases your arms for just a moment so he can lift your legs over each of his legs, which are spread out wide on the bed. Then he goes back to gently pinning your hands to the mattress.

You sense the other man moving closer and a mouth reappears on your skin. This time it’s your inner right thigh. He drags his tongue from inside your leg near your knee all the way up your inner thigh, sending tingles through your body, but he stops before he gets anywhere near your pussy. He does this again, and then mirrors the action with your other leg.

His hands try to push your legs a little wider and Chan assists by moving his own legs wider, forcing your legs to part just a little more. You are ready, wide open for whatever you're about to receive.

The touching stops, but you can feel him kneeling in front of you. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly in anticipation.

You're pleasantly startled when you feel a warm liquid landing on your breasts. The oil, Chan must have warmed it up somehow in preparation. You moan at the sensation of the oil dripping down around and between your breasts. You suck a breath in a sharp breath when you feel a pair of hands cupping your breasts, then squeezing and massaging the flesh in slow, but firm circles.

His hands slide easily over your oiled skin, and you squeal slightly when he squeezes your nipples. You imagine Changbin before you and that it’s his hands pinching your nipples. But you don’t believe it’s actually him. Changbin is a guitarist, with callused fingers. These hands a soft and smooth. That leaves Jisung, Minho and Felix.

As the pinches and flicks become more aggressive you can’t help but arch your back and rock your hips at the sensation.

Chan shushes you. “We need to stay still and take it, remember what we agreed to?” That’s right, part of this was you needed to stay as still as possible, it was all part of being restrained. You compose yourself and stop moving. It’s so difficult but you're determined to play the part properly.

“Good girl.” Chan growls low. Good girl? You love those words.

More warm oil is applied to your stomach. There is so much that it coats your entire abdomen and runs down towards your pussy, and trickles down between your folds. You feel bad for the bedding, it’s probably going to be a mess.

It feels so fucking sexy with your body being this slick and slippery. You feel like a goddess being cherished and adored, yet at the same time you feel like a dirty whore who doesn’t care who fucks her.

You wait for the hands to return to your body, anticipating them all over your stomach and you moan and pant with the need to be touched now. You are so desperate and on the verge of begging.

“Pl-please… please touch me.” you say.

“He wants you to call him ‘Sir’." Chan whispers.

“Please touch me again… Sir.” you pant.

You release a long low moan as he pours the oil at the top of your pussy now. It runs down through your lips and onto your asshole. You wriggle with pleasure and frustration. Chan squeezes your hand, a reminder that you need to stay still. You don’t know where his hands will land next and the anticipation is pure agony.

The stranger lifts your legs up bending them so your knees are up near your chest. Chan releases one of my hands to grip under your knee to help pin it against your chest, whilst the other man pins your other leg.

The heel of a hand presses firmly against your clit and begins to move in circular motions, much like they did with your breasts. It provides a grinding sensation that shoots pleasure deep inside of your core.

“Fuck that feels so good… Sir.” you whimper as his hand swirls and presses on you for what feels like and eternity.

He then drags two fingers beginning at your clit all the way down to your ass, dragging the oil and your own slickness all the way down. Your pussy clenches as his fingers pass by your entrance, not stopping to explore.

He presses a finger to your asshole.

“Aaaah!!” you gasp at the sensation of the pressure.

He massages his finger against your rim, and you know you're going to open up easily for him. You're so aroused and so slick from the oil that it doesn’t take much for the tip of his finger to breech the entrance. You grip the sheets with your hands as his finger slips in slowly. Deeper, deeper, all the way in.

“You’re being so good for him.” Chan’s words of praise in your ear make your melt around the stranger’s finger and it isn't long until you're ready for more.

“Sir… please.. I need… can you put in another finger?”

He slowly removes his finger and you feel two fingers at your hole now. He pushes them in, going ever so slowly. It’s a stretch but he’s moving slowly enough that you're adjusting along the way, making the stretch feel achingly good. He must be experienced at this sort of thing. He knows exactly what to do.

You reach up and wrap an arm around Chan’s neck. He whispers words of encouragement in your ear.

The volume of your moans and whimpers grow so loud now that it’s drowning out the sound of the French woman’s singing. The man moves his fingers in and and out of your ass maintaining a relentlessly slow pace. The burning sensation with every drag of his fingers makes your cry out in pleasure.

“Faster… harder… Sir I need… more.” you whimper.

He quickly builds up the pace. Chan brings his hand to your neck, wrapping it around your throat and squeezing slightly but not enough to cut off the air. Then he brings his thumb up to your lips. You open your mouth allowing him to slip his thumb inside. You pull at the hair on the back of his head and he pushes his thumb further into your mouth. The other man continues to fuck your ass with his fingers.

A mouth lands on your pussy. His tongue swirls around and through your lips. The tip of his tongue slides inside of you. Chan starts to fuck your mouth with his thumb, pushing it deep inside roughly. You want him to ruin you.

You're practically screaming from the glorious agony, your senses are on overload.

Chan removes his thumb. “Is this okay?” he checks in with you.

“Yes… But… I want his cock now.” you pout.

“Ahhh yes, I bet you do. Let’s sort you out huh?”

The fingers inside your ass are removed and you feel the man shift his position.

His thighs press against the underside of yours. Then…you feel the tip of a cock. He pushes it against your entrance. You make a pathetic whiny sound. Your body is begging for him to push his cock in.

Moments pass and nothing happens. What is happening? A sense of panic makes it’s way into your body. Has he changed his mind?

Another moment passes.

“He wants to know if we can take the blindfold off?” Chan asks.

You pause. He hasn’t changed his mind. You quickly try to decide what to do. Whoever it is wants you to be right there with him, making this moment together. Not him fucking fucking, but you fucking each other.

“Okay.” you say shakily. Your breath quickens at the thought of coming face to face with the man who has been pleasuring you so amazingly.

Chan takes over holding both your legs up, and two hands come to rest on the sides of your blindfold, the tip of his cock slips into you slightly as he leans in towards you, giving you a tease of what’s to come. You can’t wait until he is all the way inside.

Your blindfold slides off but your vision is blurry. You blink to adjust your eyes and the man before you becomes clear.

Minho.

He is looking at you expectantly, nervously, like you might run away at the sight of him.

You reach up and cup his face. His cheeks are flushed and lips pink and swollen. He isn’t even being the one fucked right now but he looks like he is.

“Hey.” you say with a dazed smile.

“Hey.” He replies. “Is this okay…do you want to keep…”

You wrap an arm around his waist and pull him down on top of you. His hands reach around to your ass, lifting your hips up and pushes himself all the way inside of you.

Minho is finally free to make noises now and he makes long low moans as he rocks his hips into you. He looks down between the two of you to watch his cock glide in and out.

You still have one arm wrapped around Chan’s neck, your other explores Minho’s body. His toned body undulates like some sort of exotic python. He’s even more skilled with his cock than with those magic fingers. He brings his mouth down onto yours mirroring his tongue with his thrusts. He is such a skilled, diligent lover.

You melt together as his long, languid thrusts become deeper and you are being pressed against Chan’s hard cock.

Without warning, Minho pulls out of you and flips you over in one fluid move so you're on all fours.

You look down and see Chan’s hard erection inside his sweats.

You're about to reach for it when you're dragged away further down the bed by Minho. You look into Chan’s eyes longingly as you're being pulled out of reach while he just stares back at you. You want to please him so badly.

Minho pushes his cock back inside you, causing you to cry out. Pleasure washes over you, mixing with the angst of yearning for Chan.

He slides his thumb over your asshole and presses it inside. “Ahhh.. Yes, Minho.” you cry.

He pushes it in all the way and rests his palm and fingers on your tail bone. His grip is perfect to rock you on an off his cock. You love feeling so filled up, and you're about to come any minute.

Chan looks fucked out, like he’s on another planet. His engorged, swollen red cock is now out of his pants and in his hand but he’s not doing anything with it. He’s just holding it absentmindedly. His eyes are glazed over as he stares at you.

Minho must notice him too. “Kitten?” he asks. “Do you want to help Chan out? Make him come?”

Oh fuck yes! You look at Chan eagerly. You're practically salivating.

“Come over here Chan. It’s okay.” Minho encourages Chan over, but doesn’t move.

“Before I come.” He adds hoping that will spur him on.

Chan, as if possessed, gets up onto his knees and crawls his way towards you. Once he is close enough he offers you the head of his cock. You eagerly take hold of it with one hand and guide him into your mouth. Chan whimpers at your touch. You lick your tongue along his shaft and over the tip before taking him deep into your mouth.

“Oh fuck!” Chan whines high pitched.

“Y/n, don’t use your hands. Make him work for it.” Minho growls as he fucks you from behind.

You do as you're told and release your grip but keeping him in your warm, wet mouth.

Something in Chan snaps. He grabs the back of your head and starts plunging his cock into your mouth relentlessly. He tangles his fingers in your hair as he fucks your face without restraint. You gag. It’s hard to take him and your eyes water.

You look up at him to find him staring at you while he fucks your face. Having Chan using you like this while Minho pounds you from behind and fingering your ass is all to much. You cry out around Chan’s cock as your legs shake and your cunt clenches around Minho. Your arms and legs buckle underneath you, but Minho is there to hold you steady. He wraps and arm underneath you, keeping you in position. He pulls out of you painting your back in his cum.

Chan growls and moans, and pulls his cock out to massage his release into your waiting mouth and tongue. There is so much. He leans back onto his heels, shaking as he watches you swallow every drop. He looks horrified and startled. Oh shit, have you done something wrong?

Chan quickly gets off the bed and pulls up his sweats. “Fuck y/n. I'm so sorry.” He says flustered.

“I’ll get the towels.” Minho announces and hops off the bed.

“Chan?” you whimper. He doesn’t seem to hear you. You can tell he's freaking out. “Chan!” you repeat, “I need you to hold me.”

Chan looks down at you, as though he is scared. What's going through his mind? Cautiously, he edges closer to the bed and sits beside you. You're still in an all fours position waiting to have your back wiped, but you kneel up to let Chan wrap his arms around you. You nuzzle into his chest. Why is he so upset with you?

You feel him relax against you and he strokes your hair. “I shouldn’t have done that to you.” He whispers over and over. You don’t understand. You fucking loved that he did that to you.

Minho returns to wipe you down and to remove the excess coconut oil that had made its way to the strangest places.

Suddenly, Chan gets up and turns down the bed, gesturing for you to hop in. Then he goes around the other side and offers that side to Minho.

You and Minho look at each other. This seems like really odd behaviour, but you oblige and both get into bed as directed, even though this wasn’t part of the arrangement. You don’t say a word as you watch Chan slip his shirt back on and leave the room.

Next Chapter: you role play with Minho and learn more about the man on his mind.

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#skz smut #chan smut #chan x reader #han jisung smut #lee know smut #lee know x reader

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