#FUCK YOU. FUCK EVERYONE. FUCK ME. I FIND NO WORDS IN EITHER LANGUAGE TO TELL U HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS IM SO F RU ST R AT E D

[futureman]

hi idk if u remember me but i literally love u okay anyways

so literally just dbf!joel saying “sweetheart i need you to be quiet” and ”baby i’m gonna cum if you don’t shut up” and maybe covering her mouth at some point 🤭

have a wonderful day and thank u sm for ur time 🙏🏾

hii love, ofc i remember you! tysm for sending this in ♡ accidentally got inspired by my dinner last night, oops. hope you enjoy!!

does your mother know?

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI, no outbreak, close family friend!joel, language, smut, rough sex, unprotected piv, age gap, mild exhibitionism, old man joel can't keep it in his pants at family dinner

word count: 1.7k

Friday night dinner wasn’t supposed to go like this.

One hand buried in your hair and the other slapped over your mouth, muffling every moan and sigh you make while Joel fucks you against the sink in the upstairs bathroom of your family home. 

He'd arrived late with a charming, drawled apology and immediately made the mistake of taking the seat across from you. If he'd sat literally anywhere else, he might've been able to ignore the perfect curve of your tits in the lowest-cut shirt he'd ever seen you in, or your constant need for the salt and pepper shakers, conveniently placed right in front of his plate. 

Every time you leaned over the table, he was reminded of the fact that you’d decided to forgo a bra. Whether that was for his benefit or yours, he was doing his best not to find out. 

Not after your parents had taken the time to invite him here, insisting that he eat a home-cooked meal for once, knowing full well he's been surviving off TV dinners ever since Sarah left for college.

“That’s kinda rude of me, huh?” you smiled sheepishly after giving him a particularly revealing peek, but the look that followed was downright sinful. "My bad, I just didn’t wanna keep interrupting your dinner by asking you to pass the salt. Figured it’s been a while since the last time you ate."

And you were right. It had been a while since he’d tasted anything as sweet as you, that satisfied him the way you do, but you already knew that. It’s why you were baiting him—because you know he can’t resist you.

Still, he tried. He really did, but the Southern gentleman in him couldn't refuse dessert or the hefty glass of wine your mom poured after he'd finished helping her clear the table. So, when he'd found himself trapped between your familiar warmth and the armrest of the couch, he should've known there'd be trouble.

When you'd casually gestured a little too widely during the story you were telling and splattered half the glass across his flannel and jeans, he should've gone to the bathroom to treat the stains alone instead of accepting your apologetic offer to help.

He should’ve known better. 

But the second your doe eyes lock with his, roving over his body like the lovely dinner your mom made wasn’t nearly enough to fill you up, he realizes he does know better. He just doesn't give a shit.

And that's why you're bent over the sink, taking his cock like you were made for it, and making the sweetest sounds he’s ever heard. You either don’t care enough to stop, regardless of whether your parents can hear you or not, or you’re too blissed out to notice. But he does.

“Sweetheart, I need ya to be quiet,” he grits out tightly, barely audible over his hips slamming into yours and the filthy squelch of your pussy around him. “Don’t want us gettin’ caught, do ya?”

You can’t respond, or even nod, with his hand still held firmly over your mouth, so you whine your acknowledgment into his palm, squeezing your eyes shut as you try your best to do what he asked. 

You’re clearly struggling. Those muted, stuttered whimpers grow louder every time he buries himself to the hilt, and he almost wants to remove his hand and let the sounds of your pleasure echo around the room, so everyone in this house knows just how good he’s making his girl feel. 

“I know, baby, I know. Feels good, don’t it? S’hard to keep all those pretty noises in when you’re takin’ so much, but I need’ya to try,” his lips graze your ear with each growled word. 

Another pained whimper passes your lips through the cracks between his fingers, and he accidentally bucks into you harder than he means to. Christ, he’s never heard you sound like this before. So needy. He shouldn’t, but he wants to hear more. To feel your chest vibrate with it, watch in the mirror as your mouth parts around even just one perfect, drawn-out moan.

The hand buried in your hair trails down your neck, beautifully elongated as your back arches to take him deeper, and snakes around your body. He tugs down the front of your shirt—that flimsy fucking tank top that's been teasing him all night—to cup your breast and, fuck, you like that. Your pussy grips him in response, clenching intermittently while he roughly tweaks your nipple between two calloused fingers. 

You’re tight, almost too tight for him to keep up his merciless pace if he wants to last much longer, and so goddamn wet. You’re seeping right into the wine-stained fabric of his jeans, making an even bigger mess than you started with.

“Look at ya,” he mumbles, slowing to watch in awe as his cock drags against your entrance, reappearing slicker with every thrust. “So fuckin’ tight...and sloppy. You’re makin’ a mess of me, sweetheart."

You shudder under his rapt attention, at the sheer want in his voice, but despite the obvious effect of his words, you’re still staying quiet, just like he told you to. You’ve been such a good girl, so he decides to take a risk and reward you. 

“M'gonna let go, alright? But ya gotta keep bein' good for me," he leans down to press his lips between your shoulder blades, his hand dropping from your mouth to settle on your waist. "Don't need'ta be silent, just need'ya to keep it down. Can ya do that?"

You gasp as his slow, deep thrusts still and he presses flush against your ass, grinding into you languidly as he waits for your answer. 

"Y-yeah...yes, yes," you reply weakly, cold ceramic digging into your breasts as you pant heavily into the sink. "Keep going—p-please, just fuck me."

"That's my girl," he breathes raggedly, and he's a little ashamed at how quickly his balls start to tighten at the soft timbre of your voice. 

His pace abruptly picks up, and then he's forcing you onto his cock again, his hips slamming into yours with a steady, wet thock-thock-thock that's probably louder than you've been all night. But he doesn't stop—you feel way too fucking good to stop, and he likely couldn't even if he tried.

In the back of his mind, he tells himself that your parents are probably doing dishes by now, and whatever he's doing to their daughter upstairs is getting drowned out by running water and clattering dishware. 

He continues to repeat the shitty lie to himself as he yanks you up, pulling your back flush against his chest and wrapping an arm around your stomach to hold you in place. The abrupt shift changes the angle of his hips so he’s fucking up into you instead, and it feels...indescribable. 

He's hitting something he wasn't able to reach before, a sensitive spot impossibly deeper inside you that has your pussy squeezing him, gushing down his cock, and he's—

Fuck, he's not going to last long. 

"Mmph...fuck—there, Joel, there. So, so fucking close, please, need it harder."

Christ, and you begging him to fuck you harder isn't helping. His hand drops between your legs to your swollen clit, slipping through the slick mess to rub tight, insistent circles into the hardening nub, and the heady friction has your thighs quaking almost immediately. 

"S'good...feels soso good," you slur deliriously, teetering on the cusp of your orgasm. "Wanted you so fucking bad all night...ngh, should've fucked me right there on the table—"

Joel cuts you off before you can finish, pushed a little too far past his limit.

"Baby, m'gonna cum if ya don’t shut up," he grits through his teeth, still pounding into that spot, still rubbing hard and fast swirls into your clit, and he can feel how close you are.

"F-fuck, me too—m'so close. Fill me up, please."

That sends him over the edge. You barely have time to gasp in a breath before he shoves you back down, lifting one of your legs up to the side so he can sink even deeper as he practically mounts you on the edge of the sink.

"Fuck yeah, I'll fill ya up," he groans, drawn-out and wrecked, as he empties inside you, thick spurts coating your convulsing walls. His hands greedily roam your body, caressing every inch of bare skin he can reach. "Send ya back downstairs to your momma and daddy with my cum leakin' out of ya. Filthy fuckin' girl."

Three more achingly deep thrusts, and then you're cumming hard, exploding hot and wet around him, already feeling him start to drip out of you and down your thighs. Your entire body seizes, desperate not to make a single sound while he fucks you through your orgasm, but then Joel meets your eyes in the mirror.

The warm chestnut of his eyes has been completely overtaken by his blown-pupils and he looks a little wild, like he's about to do something you'll both regret. Then, he does. Without warning, he buries his face into the crook of your neck and bites down hard, sucking a bruise into your skin he knows you won't be able to hide, and the squeal that erupts from your chest is high-pitched enough that you know everyone in the house heard it.

The thought alone stokes the heat already starting to build in the pit of his groin again, and the sight of his cum leaking out of your pussy in thick globs when he pulls out only fans the flames.

"M'takin' you home, sweetheart. Gonna fuck ya the way you deserve," he mumbles into your marked skin, and you tremble in his arms, whimpering softly through an aftershock. "Then, you can scream as loud as ya want—"

"Everything alright up there?" Your mom's voice filters up the stairs. "What, did one of y'all fall into the sink?"

Joel noses into your hair, chuckling before he responds.

"Just finished."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller smut #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

[mphountitled]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞

Farleigh Start x Fem!Reader

Summary: Hating Farleigh had never stopped him from using you

Content Warnings: Language, Fwb, Forbidden Relationship, Unedited, Dark Fic, Dark Humor, Coarse Jokes, Jealousy, Possessiveness, Smoking, Weaponizing!Ollie, Smut (+18), Minors DNI, Slight CNC, Breeding, Neediness, Exhibition Kink, Grinding, Extreme Degradation, Humiliation Kink, Praise Kink, Hate Sex, Hair Pulling, Rough sex, Messy Sex, Spitting, Orgasm Control, Dirty Talk, Choking

He'd definitely bully me if he was real, and I'd be in love with him

"It's not like we're actually going to eat anything. Mother only insists we all make use of the furniture," Venetia's rambling is incessant as she walks briskly into the dining hall. You know her irritation is the by-product of the undiagnosed anxiety that comes with being forced into an uncomfortable Dior slip on such short notice.

In all fairness, you weren't doing so well either. The dress you are currently wearing is just as suffocating and Venetia's Saint Laurent heels dig into your bone. Your outfit is a velvety, laced up nightmare.

A torture chamber.

You wholeheartedly wanted to crawl into your own bed and forget about everyone and everything. In fact, the only thing keeping you mildly excited for dinner with The Henrys happens to be-

"Gentlemen!" You exclaim, before cleverly adding, "And you've brought Farleigh with you."

You all congregate at the left side of the dinner table, while the Henrys and The Henrys wives all mill about the dinner party. There are'nt any rules to things like this. It's all so self explantory.

What was not all too self explantory was your seating positions. Venetia forces you to sit in between herself and a very vexed Farleigh.

"How interesting," Farleigh barely addresses you in his tired monotonous lilt, "You're almost, nearly, just about, decently dressed." You bristle as you lower your behind to your chair, all while Farleigh shoots you a tight-lipped smile.

"Wow!" Your words drip with sarcasm, promptly halting Farleigh from flirting with the man to his immediate left - one of the Henrys closeted sons, no doubt. "That almost, nearly, just about sounded like a compliment!" You exclaim before leaning over beside him in a daring display of confidence. You place your hand tentatively on his thigh before whispering, "Am I going to have to use my rape whistle?"

Farleigh's scoff sends a string of lightning shooting down your spine.

"You're such a slut, I think you'd enjoy probably enjoy it." His breath is hot against your cheek and would be considered vile.

It should be vile.

Why can't you bring yourself to find Farleigh as vile?

With his elbows lowered underneath the table like a good little gentleman, Farleigh lets his fingers crawl tentatively over your thigh.

The games are on.

Your heart is beating at a million miles an hour with your mind reeling at not only Farleigh's large warm palm finding its home on your ample thigh but his words.

They are in complete contrast to everything you two have experienced together thus far on your stay in Saltburn.

As his fingers inch their way towards your inner thigh you're absolutely breathless. All you can think about is your escapade in the pool the evening before.

Both Catton siblings had been immersed in a very Catton argument, leaving you and Farleigh to your own devices on the banks of the stone pool.

With both your arms leaning over the ledge of the pool and Farleigh pressed to your side, no one could barely tell that Farleigh already had two digits dipped inside your weeping cunt. His hand moved slowly and deftly, so as not to cause too much of a stir in the water and give you two away. And he did it all while leaning his free hand out of the pool, cradling his copy of Jane Eyre with his eyes glued on the pages.

"F-Fuck Farleigh, can I cum?" He sighed at your agitated state.

"Not until I'm finished with Chapter 18." He mumbled almost distractedly, as if your needy voice was something akin to a pesky fly interrupting his reading.

Chapter 18, as you'd probably guessed, had never ended.

His cousins were back from their argument and his fingers left your cunt just as quickly. You had both went back to pretending to hate each other and you were left to 'rub one out' in the safety of your room like some hormonal teenager.

You truly are furious with him.

"What's this I'm hearing about a rape whistle?" Felix pipes up from the other side of Farleigh, equally dressed up all spiffy for the Henry's "You didn't rape anyone, did you?"

Farleigh's response is more of a hiss, "Of course I didn't-"

"Surely there must be more savory topics of discussion at the dinner table other than rape?" Comes the quick mediation of Elsbeth, who sits at the head of the table, clutching her string of expensive pearls as if they weilded the power to rid her of all these insolent little kids.

"Of course there is," you exclaim before turning your head to smile at the presence beside Ventia, nestled quietly in his seat like a little pauper.

Farleigh's manicured fingernails sink half moons into the skin of your thigh, peeking up from the slit of your dress as you lean away from him and say, "You must be Oliver! It's a relief to see another commoner around here." It was so undeniably petty to weaponize Farleigh's greatest foe, but the vexation of not being made to cum the night before still hangs heavily on your shoulder. And at the end of the day, you really just were a petty bitch.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ollie!" Slightly leaning over Venetia, the boy looks pale. As if he was biting down on his words. God, his tongue must be riddled in scars.

"Pleasure to meet you." Oliver cooly mirrors the warm and inviting smile stretched across your face.

"Don't lean over me," Venetia mumbles, "I'm not a child."

Meanwhile, Farleigh scoffs once again. While he injects himself in your conversation, his hands move swiftly to cup your vagina, nearly raking a gasp out of your throat in the process. "She won't sleep with you, mate." his brown eyes are trained on Oliver's. "She's a slut but not that big of a slut."

The extreme degradation laced in Farleigh's voice is enough to have you nearly moan out in front of all your friends, their family, and all the bloody Henrys.

Farleigh knew exactly which buttons to push to have you melting catastrophically against his fingers. He knew what words could have you slipping into subspace and he knew how to get your cunt weeping.

"Jesus Christ, could we not do this right now?" Venetia asks, staring pointedly at her cousin, and not at the sight of your legs parting to further accomdate his lazy rubbing against your cunt.

"I'm sorry, Cousin," Farleigh replies, "but it's not my fault your best friend is a raging bitch."

A breathless chuckle escapes your clenched teeth, "I-I'm not a-"

"Yeah, I am so completely done with this conversation," Venitia says, before strangling the stem of her wine glass and chugging it down as if it was nothing but water.

You turn back to hiss into Farleigh's ear, "You're such an a-asshole-"

"Say that again but don't sound like you're on the verge of squirting on my fingers in the middle of dinner." His grin is shadowed by the dimness of crystal chandlier and all the little candles posted along the table. "This is what you get for being a bitch," he says, socasually it makes you break your resolve by shifting in your seat, to better grind your cunt against his fingers, even for a mere second.

It's almost enough to make you cum right then and there.

"Oh-ho!" He aims a guffaw at the sky, "You really are a needy little slut-"

"This dress is shit," you suddenly push yourself out of your chair, creating the minimal noise of wood scraping against the floors. Most eyes are on you and Farleigh slyly removes his hands from in between your thigh. He leans over the table, bringing his fingers to his lips before spreading them over his gums like you would cocaine.

"I have to go change." You say to Venetia, before promptly (and very rudely) bowing out of the dinner.

A few seconds later, you hear Farleigh mumble something about needing a smoke and your heart rattles wildly in its cage. His footsteps are brisk behind yours, and you can feel his eyes sinking into your figure.

While your feet carry you to your destination and you let your brain catch on, you're already sneaking into Farleigh's room.

"Ah! Trespasser!" He exclaims excitedly behind you, with his hands stuffed in his pocket.

"You're so fucking annoying!" Your complains barely escape your throat before he's attacking you in a sloppy, open mouth kiss. He steals the air right out of your lungs, until he's breathing for the both of you. Farleigh slips out of his Abercrombie suit blazer, discarding the material as if it truly meant nothing to him.

His hands are everywhere, with special interests in your breasts compressed tightly by the uncomfortable stitching of your dress.

"This dress..." you mumble distractedly.

"Fuck this dress." He says, and you wholeheartedly agree. Perhaps it was desperate of you to turn in haste. Lifting the ends of your hair to present the zipper to him.

"You look fucking ravenous." He admits in a grave whisper, with his lips grazing the side of your neck, "I wanna fucking eat you." He says, "I wanna be inside you."

"You have such a dirty mouth, Farleigh," the groan that escapes his throat as he zips down your dress lets you know that you may have found your way in.

As the dress spills around your heeled feet, followed by your lacey underwear, Farleigh reattaches his full lips to the skin of your back. "What did you say?" His voice is like the rough gravel encircling Saltburn and you let your eyes roll to the back of your head as you arch backwards against him. His hardness presses against your ass and your fingers weave their way into his curls.

"I said youre a dirty boy, Farleigh." He ruts against you, almost as a second thought. "A dirty fucking boy,"

"Fuck," his hands dig into your hips, rubbing you against him. All as he pleases. "Fucking, fuck. I'm not gonna cum like this-" He says suddenly before spinning you back around.

It is few and sparse moments when you're reminded just how much taller Farleigh is than you and eventide it happens, the wind is knocked out of you. Farleigh advances on you like a literal predator until you're forced to fall backwards on his bed.

He barely undoes the bowtie, and only a few buttons go loose enough to showcase the beautiful expanse of his chest.

"You're absolutely soaked aren't you?" He asks, hovering on the bed above you.

"I need to cum, Farleigh, please-" You knew it was the only way to get what you wanted. You had unashamedly resorted to begging for a man who hooked his nails into your hair, forcing you to sit upright as he parted your legs.

"Look at you," he whispers before cackling maniacally. "You're so stupidly wet, you filthy fucking girl-"

"O-oh fuck, Fuck Farleigh," Your try by all means to grind your cunt into the mattress but is doesn't happen.

"When are you going to learn that I own your orgasms?" He whispers, with his other hand furiously undoing the belt of his fitted pants. "You don't cum until I say. You don't touch yourself until I say. You don't even fucking think about cumming until I say-"

"You're such a big little baby," you spit back, "A big needy, little b-"

You're once again pushed backwards and Farleigh's mounting you with his leaking cock locked tight in his fist.

You automatically lift your legs to present your cunt to him and he groans at the sight.

"I'm going to cum inside of you." He promises.

"I want you too."

Farleigh's eyes are heavy as he slides himself inside you. He looks down at you like you were the most precious thing in the world to him. A treasure trove.

"Fuck- I need you to carry on talking." Farleigh says before shutting his eyes tightly. "Fuck you feel so good-"

"You're doing so well, baby," his hips rut inside you, accidentally pushing his cock in way too deep, way too fast and you both hiss and moan. "Such a good boy," you say with your hair finding his own curls, "You're being such a good fucking boy, Farleigh-"

"Open your mouth," you comply robotically. Farleigh places his hands on the underside of your chin before tipping your head backwards. His chains dangle above you as you stick your tongue out and he spits directly into your mouth. "Such a slut," he says, "Such a filthy fucking good girl." His words have you grinding your cunt against his cock until soon, you're both on the precipice of cumming.

"F-Fuck-"

"Such a good girl," he whispers, with his breath ghosting yoir face and the sound of skin slapping against skin only grows louder and louder. "S-So fucking good-" He whispers over and over again until your cunt clenches around his cock, promting Farleigh's orgasm with a quickness.

His cum spilling inside you has you slipping unceremoniously into your own orgasm and Farleigh wails in both the pleasure of your cunt milking him dry, or your fingers still pulling his hair like crazy.

"Fuck!" He exclaims before slumping on the bed beside you, "Get your fingers out of my hair, you psycho-"

"You love it, though," there's a teasing lilt in your voice, and all Farleigh does is scoff before patting down the pockets of his pants.

"You give me endless reasons to smoke," he says, before tipping his head back, unknwongly leaning into your embrace as your fingers coil through his soft curls.

"You'd smoke anyway."

#saltburn #saltburn x reader #saltburn smut #saltburn x you #farleigh start #farleigh saltburn #farleigh start x reader #farleigh start smut #oliver quick x reader

[screeching-bunny]

may i request some yan!butler/maid hcs? ur fics/hcs r like my lifeline ALSO love love the name Ligma (srry for the poor grammar, english is my first language/hj)

Yandere! Butler Hcs

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

A/N: LIGMA BALLZ. Anyways thanks for liking my name it’s so fucking awesome isn’t it?

🌟 Yandere! Butler who’s a year older than you and has been serving you ever since your teenage years. He’s dedicated and willing to spend the rest of his life serving you as long as it means being by your side forever. He first becomes enamored by you when you happen to come by the shop he was working at the time. He was enchanted by you and after finding out that you were a noble, he began grooming himself in order to be the perfect servant for you. When the position of being an attendant opened up in your manor, he quickly signed up for it. Yandere! Butler made sure to perform his duties as perfectly and diligently as possible while in that position. It was all to ensure that he would be promoted to be personal butler.

🌟 Yandere! Butler was not able to communicate with you when he was first hired to your manor due to being too low of a rank. He could only stare at you longingly from afar and wish that he could be closer to you. Yandere! Butler during this time period would discreetly follow you around wherever you went. Although he wasn’t allowed to talk to you, he still wanted to feel like he was a part of your life, like some secret protector. While doing this he’s definitely stolen a few of your possessions and stored them for his own personal use.

🌟 Yandere! Butler is so enthralled when he finally gets promoted to being your butler. Finally!!! After all these years he can finally talk and touch his beloved person! He’s so excited that he can’t stop shaking with joy when he hears the news. Every waking moment of his life from this point in time will belong to you and only you. He is willing to do anything you ask of him. No matter how small or difficult the task is, he will make sure to complete it as if his life depended on it. As long as it gets you to look and notice him then it is all worth it.

🌟 Yandere! Butler is only loyal towards you. He is not willing to take orders from anyone but you, even if it’s from your own family members. How dare they try to take away his time and thoughts of you away from him? Have they no shame?! Yandere! Butler would definitely be willing to fight anyone who dares to insult you. He doesn’t care if they are young or elderly, his hands are rated E for everyone. His love language is words of affection, so get ready to hear a barrage of compliments every waking moment of your life. Even when you’re not around, he’s still singing praises about you much to the displeasure of literally everyone else.

Yandere! Butler: “Did you see them today! I swear they get more dashing every time I see them. I wonder if they’ll let me touch their–”

Random Maid: (crying) “PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, SHUT UP!!! IT’S BEEN TWO HOURS!!!”

🌟 Yandere! Butler is in charge of your everyday routine. He’s the one planning all of your meals and makes them personally. He will get upset if anyone but him makes you food because he makes sure to plan it perfectly in order to fit your nutritional needs. He makes sure to take care of you as if you were porcelain glass. His movements with you are light and delicate almost as if he were scared that you would break if he were ever too rough with you. He loves to hear you talk about your day and ramble on about meaningless things. It’s somewhat therapeutic to him and it’s like listening to an asmr podcast in his eyes. He takes in everything that you say and a majority of times gives good advice when you need it. If you ever fall in love, never tell him. He will either gut that person alive or give you the worst possible love advice you have ever heard.

“This guy I met at the bakery was super attractive. How do you think I should approach him?”

Yandere! Butler: (screaming on the inside) “You should tell him that he’s gross. I heard nowadays guys find it attractive when people play hard to get.”

🌟 Yandere! Butler legitimately thinks that you are the most perfect person in the universe and that no one deserves you, including himself. He doesn’t care that you may not ever love him, just allow him to stay by your side all of eternity and he’ll be happy. You could tear him apart or take everything he owns and he’d still be loyal toward you. When he signed that contract, he did not only just promise to be your butler but also made a heartfelt vow that everything he does will be for your greater good. He loves the look of a smile on your face and would do anything to keep it there. Murder is not beneath him, if anyone dares to make you cry then he won’t hold back. Whether it be poison, decapitation, drowning, and etc. He’s willing to do it for you, all in the name of love.

🌟 Yandere! Butler takes care of any task that you deem stressful and overwhelmed by. If he sees any type of distraught look on your face he is taking over. Has that business deal been causing you to lose sleep? Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, he’ll make sure to handle everything. Are you getting a migraine while doing some paperwork? Well then, wait right there as he brews you some tea and he’ll get right in on working on it. If he ever sees you sneeze and sniffle then he is going straight mama bear mode. He’ll force you to stay in bed even if you aren't really sick and he won’t listen to any of your protests. No job is a headache to him when it involves you in the picture. So why don’t you just sit back and relax so that he can just take care of you.

#yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere oc #yandere butler

[rad-batson]

Billy Batson and Damian Wayne being weirdly good friends (ft. the occasional Jon Kent)

Billy befriends Damian after the JL learns his real identity. Batman approached him and told him they should meet since they’re the same age.

At first, it’s awkward because Damian isn’t interested in making friends, and Billy’s mad that Batman is essentially sending him to the kids' table. Until… 

Damian: “Why must my father insist that I socialize? I can handle myself!” Billy: “Thank you! I’ve been on my own since I was six. I don’t need an adult to tell me what to do.” Damian: “…I like you.” Billy: “Wanna spy on the Justice League?” Damian: “Yes.”

Batman immediately regrets his decision.

At first, the two don’t really talk outside of meetings or happenstance, but when they do, they’re like twins. They know exactly what the other is thinking at all times. (The adults are terrified.)

Both end up bonding over their upbringing, specifically the fact that they were abused/traumatized/malnourished for several years. That marks the point where they start talking regularly.

Damian nearly jumps out of his skin the first time Billy speaks to him in Arabic (courtesy of the Islamic Prophet, Solomon.) They now speak exclusively in Arabic when they gossip.

They will cut a bitch. Do not get on either’s bad side.

Every time one of them says something out of pocket, the other one high-fives them. Even Jon is concerned (and very jealous.)

Billy is required to attend the same school as the Teen Titans and YJ for a bit as a condition of staying in the JL so he and Damian end up taking a few classes together.

Billy “I have Zeus on speed dial” Batson and Damian “I got a PhD in The Classics at age six” Wayne proceed to roast their history professors in the back of the classroom for all of the misinformation.

Damian: “Okay so I really need a human skull, but you can’t ask why.” Billy: “As long as you also don’t ask why.” *pulls out several pristine human skulls from pocket dimension* “Take your pick.” Damian: “…this one.” Jon: “what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck”

They’re both eerily good at schooling their emotions due to countless years of emotional abuse and neglect. If anything goes wrong during a mission, it’s like a switch is flipped. They are suddenly completely level-headed.

Damian gifts Billy a PC that he built himself so they can play games together without so much lag. (It’s literally just Minecraft on creative mode. They design a working amusement park together.)

Both have been permanently banned from all zoos on the eastern seaboard. Damian tried to “liberate” the ostriches, and Billy taught the gorillas swear words in sign language.

Everyone Else: “We need to find civilization on this desert planet we crashed landed on or we’ll starve.” Billy and Damian: “The human body can go ten days without food.” Everyone: “…Are you okay?” Billy and Damian: “Not important.”

Billy, Jon, Colin, and Damian have a group chat where they regularly place bets on dumb mishaps the adults get themselves into. The one rule is they can’t bet with cash. Thus they create a trading system made entirely of local snacks, Pokémon cards, supernatural knick-knacks, and dares.

#billy batson #damian wayne #Billy: The Rock of Eternity has everything. Jon: THat doEs NoT MakE iT BetTEr #dc universe #dc #shazam #dc captain marvel #captain marvel dc #dc robin #robin damian #jon kent #jonathan kent #batman #colin wilkes #batfam

[redstarwriting]

the clash | ii. time bomb

hobie brown x goth!reader

word count: 1.5k

genre: enemies to lovers

warnings: language, insults, hobie hating you, you hating hobie, y’all almost fight twice lmao

a/n: felt bad only posting the first chapter, so here’s the second one as well! i’ll get the third one out as soon as i can, but a bitch has work tomorrow and the next day. please enjoy chapter two everyone! and if you wanna be added to the taglist just let me know! :)

now reading: ii. time bomb

previous chapter: i. hey, ho! let’s go!

next chapter: iii. black planet

───────────────────────────────

Hobie swings his way to where he’s sure Gwen is, and in doing so he will probably also find Miles and Pavitr. He’s sure he looks like if someone said the wrong thing to him, he would punch them in the face, because honestly? He just might. And he doesn’t care. You pissed him off. With your stupid opinions. People like you are the reason anarchy can never succeed, you’re either all in or you’re all out. He hates the way you dismissed him, which is a shame because he really thought you were drop-dead gorgeous.

Speaking of drop, that thought makes him drop. Like, actually. He face plants.

He groans. Fucking hell, he’s never had to deal with this type of hatred before. Usually, it’s just cut and dry ‘I hate you cause xyz’, but fuck you are making it hard. While he hates you for what you said, he loves your style, and he respects you standing your ground and not giving into him with your beliefs, but at the same time, you piss him off. He glances around, “Meant to do that.” No one in particular hears him, but he quickly webs off again. He searches for bright blond hair, and sure enough, he sees Gwen. She’s chilling in the common room Hobie claimed as his own a while back. He claimed it by… redecorating. He just made it feel more like home, and since Miguel is such a lame ass, he didn’t appreciate all the colorful spray paint and broken furniture. But Hobie doesn’t really give a fuck. As he gets closer, he can see that Miles and Pavitr are there too, and… absolutely fucking not.

He lands directly next to you with an unamused look on his face. “And who invited you into my home away from home?” You look at him and roll your eyes. “This your place? Well, that explains why it looks like someone gave Mayday Parker a 50-pack of markers and told her to go to town in here–”

“Ha ha. Funny.”

“–and to answer your question, I invited myself,” you say smugly, and he narrows his eyes at you. “Don’t try to make me like you, it’s not gonna work, love,” he growls, and everyone can tell by the way he said love that he certainly did not mean it as a term of endearment. “I wouldn’t dream of it, mate,” you say, imitating his accent in over-exaggerated way. “I don’t think they are actually calling him their mate,” Pavitr whispers to Miles, who gives him an expression practically dripping in ‘no shit.’ Hobie tears his gaze away from you and looks at Gwen. “We need to show this twat around,” he huffs, and Gwen raises her eyebrows. “We? Isn’t that your job,” she says, and Miles nods. “Yeah, I remember you said you made a deal with Miguel that–”

“I don’t give a fuck if it’s my ‘job,’ when have I ever followed the rules of a fuckin’ job?” he seethes, and you snicker. “Aw, how endearing, the punk rebel has a job. I’ll be sure to go to Miguel and tell him you’re doing amazing, so that you don’t get fired, in fact, you could get promoted!”

“That’s it,” Hobie growls and turns to you, grabbing the neck of his guitar and getting ready to use it. You smirk and slightly crouch, ready to jump away or towards him, based on his next move. “OKAY! Okay, we’ll help you just put the damn guitar down,” Miles says, jumping between the two of you. Hobie looks at him before looking at you with a deep frown. “I don’t need help. I just need to make sure other people are here, so I don’t murder this nitwit,” he says, tossing his guitar back so it hangs off his back again. “If anythin’, you’re helpin’ them.”

“I don’t need help either. Especially not yours. I’ll find my way around here myself,” you say, crossing your arms. He turns and offers you a smile. “Well now that you say you definitely don’t want my help, looks like I’m gonna be that friendly neighborhood Spider-Man and assist you.”

“My hero,” you say sarcastically, pushing past him and walking out of the room. He motions for the others to follow you first, and walks out last, slinking in the back. Gwen takes up the role he usually plays in showing everyone around. You nod and listen, occasionally asking a question and cracking a joke. He hates to admit it, but your jokes are actually very funny. It’s refreshing to hear deadpan, straightforward, dry comedy instead of the puns and silly jokes all the other Spider-People love to make. But he doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t even crack a smile. Just watches you.

‘Like a creep,’ you think, catching him staring at you for what feels like the 50th time. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the attention you were getting from him. Truthfully, he’s probably the most attractive person you’ve ever laid eyes on.

Such a tragedy he’s also the worst person you’ve ever had the displeasure to speak with.

“Your suit is so cool, by the way,” Miles says to you, and you give him a grin. “Thanks. Made it myself.”

“Yeah. I can tell,” you hear Hobie pipe up, and your head snaps towards him. “Because it’s so stylish, fashionable, and better than anything you could do yourself?”

“No. ‘Cause it looks like it was put together by a colorblind toddler. If you look close enough, the blacks don’t even match,” he says, smirking. Now this was a lie. All the black in your suit was a perfect shade of raven, he just knew it would piss you off. And it did. “Fuck you. At least my suit doesn’t look like a twelve-year-old who just discovered Hot Topic for the first time,” you hiss, and he scoffs. “Watch your fuckin’ mouth there, mate.”

“You watch yours, mate.”

“Okay, both of you shhhhhhh!” Gwen says, and you both look at her. “Don’t tell me what to do–”

“Stop talking like me!”

“What?! You stop talking like me!”

“Oh my God, the romantic tension is through the roof right now!” Pavitr suddenly pipes up, and now the both of you are staring at him, dark expressions on your faces. “I’d rather be eaten alive by a single piranha so it would take days until I finally succumbed to the sweet release of death,” you hiss and Hobie nods. “Finally. Somethin’ we agree on.” He turns and looks at you, and you roll your eyes at him. “Way to de-escalate, buddy,” Miles whispers to Pavitr, and Pavitr sighs as Miles walks a little faster to catch up with everyone else. “But I was being serious…”

Gwen continues to show you around, and when she finally finishes, you all are back at ‘Hobie’s common room.’ You walk back inside and sit on the tattered and broken-down couch. The way the room is decorated is kind of cool, you must admit. You’re just not a fan of the mismatched colors everywhere. And it could use a couple more decorations. Like bat skeletons. Or just live bats. That would be adorable. “Thanks for showing me around,” you thank Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr. “Not you, though,” you say to Hobie and he snorts. “Good. I wouldn’t want you to thank me for anything.”

“Why do you two hate each other so much? Didn’t you literally just meet?” Miles asks, looking exhausted from the snarky remarks coming from both of you. “We did,” you confirm. “And we don’t get along cause they don’t have any strong belief system.”

“Yes, I do! I’m just realistic, and he can’t understand that,” you say and he rolls his eyes. “Realistic, eh? I already told you I led a rebellion.”

“And I told you it doesn’t matter because everyone is shit. How many villains have you fought since this rebellion you led?”

“None of your fuckin’ business.”

“So, you’ve fought at least one. What did that rebellion get you then, huh?”

“I recommend you shut your fuckin’ mouth before I shut it for you.”

“Please, do try. I need a new skeleton for my collection,” you growl and the two of you jump at each other. Luckily, Gwen and Miles web both of you and hold you back. “That’s enough of that,” Gwen says. “I have an idea,” Miles says, “why don’t we go visit your universe, (Y/n)? Maybe then Hobie can see why you’re so… negative.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere near that place,” Hobie nearly yells. “Good. I don’t want you there anyway.”

“On second thought, I think it might be very eye-opening to see the world you grew up in. Maybe I can team up with your sinister six and put you in your place,” he spits out at you, causing you to glare at him and flip him off again. “A field trip sounds fun, especially after all this just happened. Maybe it will help the two of you lighten up,” Pavitr says, and you both roll your eyes. “Fine. You can all come. But if you step one toe out of line, Hobie–”

“What? You’ll yell at me?”

“No. I’ll torture you to the point that you would beg me for death.”

“Promise?”

“Always.”

───────────────────────────────

『 tag list 』

@casmosmoon* @khaleesihavilliard​ @sparklyphantom​​ @weyrrii*

*if you are italicized - i am unable to tag you for whatever reason, feel free to reach out and see if we can fix the issue

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x you #spiderpunk x reader #spiderverse x reader #hobie brown #spiderpunk #spider-punk #spiderverse #theclashofthespiderverse

[tarjapearce]

Grandma's Visit.

Warnings: Drama, mild angst, Strained Relationships. Comfort towards the end. No proofread

Summary: Conchata wants to meet Benji.

A/N: There might not be updates, but have this little piece as an offer :')

Hey

Gabriel's leg bounced as the main door was closed, a bit of a slam on it. His hands immediately fetched his phone.

Migue

Busy right now.

Drop that shit and listen

?? ¿Qué pasó?  (What's wrong?)

Mamá va para allá, cabrón.

The fuck you mean she's on her way? Did you tell her where do I live?

Miguel, it's mom we're talking about.

The eldest O'Hara sighed and raked a hand over his hair. He was definitely not prepared for what laid ahead.

She wants to meet Benjamin.

Miguel's body tensed as his muscles flexed so tightly, one would think he'd break. And it wasn't far from the truth.

Conchata. Or Connie for her friends, was the ever annoying stone on his shoes. Miguel had refused to have her in his wedding. Not out of spite, rather for the  notion he had of his beloved progenitor. He knew that trouble followed her everywhere and if it wasn't following her like an overly attached stalker, is cause she was the problem itself.

Conchata was anything but easy to be around. And things had gone even more acrid after the wedding. Miguel never told you about the fourty five minute call she made him just to say how much of a bad son he was for not inviting her over.

But Miguel knew better, if he'd had her, she'd either complain about everything, ruining the mood for everyone. Or she'd start making snide comments on you and he'd get pissed, some drama would ensue causing an even bigger and jagged rift between them and his wedding would be ruined.

"Hey"

Your gentle and soft touch grounded him, anchored his mind back to his body, as his attention snapped back at you.

"You ok?"

His eyes felt tired and heavy. Unable to meet your gaze completely.

"I'll be."

You cradled him in your arms and kissed the top of his forehead. The touch alone melted him. His own arms embracing your shorter form, that somehow did the perfect work of comforting him and ease his thoughts. But when it came to his mother, little good things came out from it.

"My... eh-" He cleared his throat, "My mother is coming for a visit"

Oh...

"What she could possibly want after so many years?"

"Meet Benjamin."

Even though his words seemed simple, the clenching of his fists until his knuckles turned white, only dictated it was far from being that. Miguel didn't fear his mother, but feared and hated the words that could possibly escape her mouth when things weren't her way.

His wellbeing would be the sacrifice for the visit, cause he'd do anything possible to avoid you or his children get hurt.

"I swear, if she says or does something stupid-"

"Mi reina, let me handle her, ok?"

Your lips pursed and your brows deepened in a soft furrow.

"I won't hesitate-"

"I know. But please. Just, let me, ok?"

Both of you knew that things weren't going to be easy, his distress was obvious, he knew you'd step in if necessary, but he had to face her, it was more like a closure for him than anything. His baby boy wouldn't suffer the dooming and cursing words she gave him so many years ago. Words he learned to loathe as he grew up.

"Alright."

----

Maybe Gabriel's heads up was a false alarm, because nearly a week had gone by. A week of pent up stress and anxiety from both sides. And you could tell from Miguel's demeanor changing.

Even though being loving and a great father remained on the top list, you knew better than that. He'd been found asleep in his office after dinner, or would shut out himself for some little minutes. You'd give him space, and when he needed you, he'd always know where to find you.

He didn't even required to say 'I need you' cause you knew. His body language over the years had been a great subject of study, specially when it came to anxiety and other negatives that always switched on whenever his mother popped up in a conversation, or when something didn't sit right in his gut.

He'd pace, pick at the skin around his nails hard enough to draw blood, chew at the insides of his cheek, drink alot of more coffee to keep himself awake, grumpier than usual, irritated, short replies for everything outside his beloved family.

With you he'd be clingier than usual, he'd spoil Gabi over to avoid thinking too much. He'd pour himself into being that amazing and loving parent he never had, but at night, he'd just hold you until he fell asleep. He'd clutch onto you so tightly that sometimes you'd have little bruises, barely visible ones, in the places he'd hold.

Your comfort skills poured into his preferred love language. Physical touch. You'd play with his hair until he fell asleep, a little purr coming from him before giving into sleep, you'd caress his back in soothing circles, letting the steady beating of your heart lull him to calm.

You'd kiss his face, showering him in affection, as if with every kiss a bit of his worries would go away.

The knock on the main door however interrupted his train of thoughts. You had gone to the supermarket to get some stuff you had forgotten for dinner. Relief washing over him as you now we're home, or so he innocently had thought. All air was caught in his throat upon seeing none other than Conchata on the front door.

Even for her age, Conchata had some beauty reserved. Her skin tone same as Miguel's, soft curls that lingered above her shoulders, deep brown eyes that if one looked close enough, would see the deep red in them. Tall and seizing him with a look he also learned to master.

A scowl disguised as a smile.

"Miguel. "

"Mamá."

A too common and long pleasantries shared between the both.

She hasn't aged much.

Miguel's mind chanted.

"You're gonna let me in to meet my grandson, or what?"

A bushy brow of his quirked, blasé and bored, but he stepped aside. His whole frame had curbed her for long enough.

Here we go

Her scrutinizing gaze was unstoppable against the nakedness of his home. Her eyes raked in every little detail out of place, loading her verbal ammo with it.

"Where is the baby?"

"Asleep."

Monotone and monosyllabic answers that matched his expression was all she could pry from him. It was ridiculous the amount of pictures you seemed to have about Gabriella. She saw her when she was two, then six. Staying in Miguel’s life wasn't something she actually liked to partake on. Too busy with her own demons and new boyfriends to care.

Why would she? He was already a grown ass man.

A man that refused to have her at his own wedding. A past resentment that has lasted over the years and her own mind had been feeding the fester inside her heart. It didn't help you had one of the wedding pictures scattered around the living room.

The few proofs she  needed to see, to know she wasn't welcome, but knowing her son had his own now, was another excuse to see what kind of man and father Miguel had turned out to be.

His arms crossed on his chest as she sat down in one of the seats in the couch.

"Come."

"I'm fine here, thanks."

"I'm trying to be civil. The least you can do is obey your mother for once."

"Why you came?"

"I told you. I need to see my grandson."

"Whatever for?"

Her eyes hardened at his words, but a sigh escaped her lips.

"God, you're so like your father. Always mistrusting people."

"You need to leave."

Hearing her say such curse, made his heart beat even faster. Hands clenched tightly at his sides. Eyes away from her, like if the mere sight of her brought back so many unpleasantness he had fought hard to work them through.

"I won't leave until your... woman shows up and throws me away."

"She will."

"Of course she will. You're not man enough. Just look at this place. A mess."

"And?"

Miguel knew that paying and baiting into her games, would only hinder so. many years of progress he had done on his own. But would also mean to give her the attention she desperately seeked, even if it meant to do it the wrong way.

"What do you mean, and?! What does she does around all day?" Conchata huffed, " In my times the wife was the one that kept everything in check. I've seen nothing but a mess so far."

"Sorry for that."

Your tired and irked voice echoed from the kitchen's door. Miguel gave you a little smirk.

"Have been busy being a real mother this whole time. Miguel, mi amor can you defrost some vegetables, please?"

"Sure do. Found everything?"

You both were purposely ignoring her. A silent yet powerful statement.

You have no power here.

Conchata's eyes set like stone into you. How dared a tiny flea like yourself to speak to her in such way?. And even worse, how could his son be lenient in allowing you to be disrespectful towards her?

You had entered quietly, the heavy and draining aura could be felt even from outside. You had told Gabi to wait outside and rearrange the groceries in the meantime.

" Oh, I didn't know you had returned."

Your name rolling off her tongue felt wrong.

" It's my house too."

"Ah, of course. You didn't do a pre-nup. Te va a dejar en la calle, Miguel." (She'll leave you bare)

Conchata's gaze never left you, it only turned even more intense as her pupils followed you every step.

"I came here to meet my grandson. Where is Gabriella? "

Said precious child helped you to get the bags from your car, while Conchata opened her arms for Gabi to cuddle her. But everything that came out was her hiding behind you, while looking between you and her, as if asking permission.

"Do you want to greet grandma, baby?"

Gabi only recoiled back, hiding further from you.

"Guess not."

You shrugged and instructed Gabi to go to her room, your eldest baby ignored her grandma.

"Muy chistosa tu mujer, enseñándole a mis nietos a irrespetarme ." (Your woman is so funny by teaching my grandkids to disrespect me.)

Miguel had to roll his eyes and stare at her boringly as he pulled out the vegetables and put them to thaw while you clenched your jaw by the sudden resented babbling that came from your mother in law.

"Where is Benjamin? I came here to see him. And I'm sure you'd love to have me here again."

"He'll be up in a minute. Would you like a a glass of water?"

Miguel offered but Conchata was already set in making you as uncomfortable as possible. And when Benjamin was brought in, rubbing his sleepy and baby face, looking for you, Conchata stood and took Benji from Miguel's arms. Holding him with such disingenuous affection it made Benji to reach for Miguel instantly.

You tensed, and so did Benjamin as Conchata admired him. If it wasn't for the skin tone matching Miguel’s, one would think that Benjamin wasn't his. Benjamin had your curls. And not Miguel's soft waves. Benjamin was the splitting image of you with a bit of Miguel's DNA painted in a few selected places. Like his eyes and height.

"I'm actually surprised you managed to pop out his children. Miguel is... big. Got it from his father."

"Didn't care much about that, ma'am."

"No se parece en nada a ti, Miguel. ¿Estás seguro que es tu hijo?" (He doesn't look like you. Are you sure he's your son?)

You didn't know what infuriated you more. The fact that she hinted that Benjamin wasn't his, a shallow and not so subtle hint at Miguel's past, or the pleased smirk her mouth turned into after spilling out the venom and seeing Miguel's discomfit grow.

Some people couldn't be helped. And Conchata truly couldn't help but love hurting her son. But you weren't having it. Not when Miguel's eyes turned away from her, not in hurt but in such anger that even you knew things wouldn't end up good for neither. And still, he regarded her with uninterested eyes.

His lack of engagement at her taunts, made her even more lashing. Like a little child that refused to have her whims met.

Even worse when Benjamin started to fuss and reach for him with a nervous cry. Even he felt odd and icky around her. You took Benjamin from her, cooing and soothing him, but he wanted Miguel. Who gladly took his precious baby, away from Connie. Inspecting him for any damage to finally kiss the top of his forehead, reassuringly.

You're safe.

"Si ya terminó de incomodarnos, creo que se puede ir, señora." (If you're done making us uncomfortable, you may go, ma'am.)

Her eyes widened at your spanish. It was clear that you had understood everything she had said, but were wise enough to not lose your temper, yet you fought back.

"Remind me to never visit you again, please."

"As if you ever do that. And no, it's not an invitation."

"Escúchame bien, chamaco ingrato-" (Listen to me you ungrateful brat)

"Ma'am."

You weren't one for yelling, but your voice was firm enough to have three pair of eyes set on you, Benjamin's fussing stopped. Conchata's lips turned into a scowl at your words.

"Thanks for your visit."

"You know, you could've settled for something better-"

"Así estoy bien, gracias. Now, if you excuse us, We've got dinner to make. The door is right there." (Im just fine. Thanks)

She left with a slam that had Benjamin cry out of the jumpscare.

Miguel hushed and rubbed his baby's back in little circles to keep him calm before giving his pacifier.

" You ok? "

Your hand squeezed Miguel's for a moment while he kissed your temple gratefully.

" Yeah. She's gone. That's why exactly I didn't invite her to the wedding or meeting you."

"It's alright. God... she's-"

"Annoying. I know. Sorry you had to hear all that."

"Nah. I'm glad you taught me cause, damn... Her face upon hearing me speaking it, was priceless. And just for you to know, I was about to explain how we almost made Benji on the car."

Miguel snorted and nodded, knowing you would. You had each other's back and that wasn't up for discussion.

" Te amo."

You mumbled in his ear before stealing a kiss from his lips.

" También te amo."

#miguel o'hara #t writes✨ #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #soccer family ⚽🕷️ #gabi o'hara #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara angst #conchata o'hara #benjamin o'hara #mama o'hara #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #x reader #astv fanfic

[velocesainz]

Cinema

(CL16, CS55)

F1 masterlist | Main masterlist

Summary: Charles is forced by Carlos to go watch an English movie with him at the theater since you are one of Carlos's best friends, he happens to take quite a liking to you not knowing Carlos's love for you. What will happen when you all of you meet at a house party?

Warnings: smuttyyyy (threesome) minors dni

Pairing: Charles x actress!reader x Carlos

Charles POV:

Carlos is currently in the process of dragging me to one of the biggest theatres in Maranello.

Why?

Because his best friend recently released a new film.

I'm offended that I'm not Carlos's best friend, and also I did not know that Carlos had a girl best friend let alone one who is an actress.

I looked her up on the way to the theatre and turns out she's one of the most famous actresses today and my oh my, was she beautiful.

We got to the theatre and Carlos got us some tickets and popcorn. He rushed me into the theatre and we sat down in our seats as we watched the movie: May December. (Guys please watch it's such a good movie)

That was one hard one to take, vet complex. Yet y/n's acting was perfect and I understood even the most complicated details.

"Mate she's such a good actress and so beautiful! Why haven't you told me about your "best friend" before?" I asked Carlos wondering why he had hidden y/n from my knowledge. As far as I knew we shared all our life stories with eachother.

Carlos shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I don't know mate, I didn't want to tell you because I know you'd find her attractive. I've been in love with her for years and idk, you're someone that everyone easily seems to fall in love with" Carlos confessed. I wasn't so sure that I would be able to keep my hands off of her

"let's go mate, it's getting late" I said to ease the tension.

With that we left the theatre and got back to our hotel rooms. Tomorrow we had a small house party at Pierre's house in Milan so I knew I wouldn't get sleep the next day.

Timeskip

I dressed up for the party, throwing in a simple white button up with blue jeans pairing some jewelry along with it.

As I was driving to Pierre's house my mind wandered to y/n. Her acting skills were amazing and she was so immensely attractive. She had won golden globes and even an Oscar for her remarkable acting.

I arrived at the party realising I'm late as the place was completely packed with people, most of whom I didn't recognise.

I was looking for either Pierre or Carlos but as I was looking my eyes fell on a lean figure in the corner of the room. Y/n.

I walked up to her with my sudden, newly found confidence "hey! My name is Charles, I'm Pierre and Carlos's best friend. I'm a huge fan of your acting" she looked at me wide eyed. Shit. Did I ramble?

"Oh hey! I'm honoured to have you as one of my fans, good to know Carlos has replaced me" she said chuckling. Oh thank god, I thought I fucked up my only chance.

I chatted with y/n for some time until someone came up to us.

"Hola mis mejores amigos" the person said, I froze. It was Carlos.

"hola Carlitos, estaba hablando con el apuesto caballero con el que me reemplazaste" Hello Carlitos, I was just talking to the handsome gentleman you replaced me with.

She spoke in perfect Spanish, god her accent was so hot.

Carlos and her exchanged a few words and then turned to involve me as well into the conversation. How nice of Carlos.

I saw that she spoke french as one of her native languages and decided to take advantage of the fact that Carlos didn't understand a word of French.

"Si jolie fille. Veux-tu retourner dans ma chambre d'hôtel ? Je peux te montrer un bon moment" So pretty girl. Do you want to go to my hotel? I can show you a good time.

She blushed hard, her cheeks turning bright red. Carlos pulled me aside.

"What are you doing mate? I told you I like her and you're going on trying to sleep with her?" Carlos said. How did he understand what I said.

"Carlos she's not your to have. If you want we can share, I see the way she looks at you as well. She likes the both of us, let's show her a good time." I suggested

Carlos nodded and walked back to y/n whispering something in her ear causing her to blush again, got was she beautiful.

All three of us got in my car and drove to my hotel.

As soon as we got there Carlos threw y/n against the wall and started kissing her

I traced her curves with my hands, pressing up behind her. I was sure she could feel my arousal on her ass.

She ogled at Carlos's body before her. I hooked my fingers in the waistband of her linen pants, leaning forward to pepper kisses on her right shoulder. Y/n reached up under the shoulders of Carlos’s shirt and pushed the fabric away. The shirt flowed off his arms, falling to the floor. He reached forward, cupping y/n's cheek before kissing her again.

My kisses on her skin flowed down her back, teeth nipping at her hips through her panties as I slid her pants down.

Carlos POV:

Charles kneeled behind y/n once the material pooled at her feet, kissing upward. I massaged one of her breasts through her bra. Charles stood up to his complete form, kissing her shoulder once more as his hand swept across your skin to her panties.

I felt Charles’s hand slip beneath the material of her panties and graze her clit, going to feel the wetness between her folds. The kiss was broken as a moan left her lips, back arching into Charles. I chuckled looking at how worked up she was.

She squirmed between me and Charles, reaching forward and gripping my shoulder for support.

Charles POV

I had y/n on her toes as I fingered her lazily as if I was playing the piano. She let out soft pants, not giving us the satisfaction of hearing how good we made her feel. We'll make sure those noises come out.

My hand fell to her side as she undid my belt, leaning forward to kiss the flesh softly. Herr fingers slipped the button free, teeth nipping at my right hip. My breath hitched, chest rising and falling as she slowly pulled the zipper down. Y/n reached in, purposefully grazing the obvious erection in my underwear before tugging the jeans down.

“Fucking hell” I breathed, pulling away from her. Her hands brushed my thighs as I stepped away. She grinned at me, knowing that she got underneath my skin.

Carlos was watching the whole thing with his arms crossed and shot me a smile. As soon as I was yanking my jeans and underwear off, Carlos quickly undid his belt and jeans.

“Fuck, I am the luckiest woman in the fucking world,” She breathed, toes curling and eyes almost rolling into the back of her head at the sight of the me and Carlos naked before her. Carlos laid horizontally across the bed. His head was slightly close to the edge. He looked at yher, patting his chest.

“Come have a seat,” Carlos suggested calling y/n over. Carlos pulled her down with no warning, tongue immediately delving within you. She cried out as his tongue circled her clit. She reached forward, gripping my forearm. I waited for her to adjust, in awe at the sight of her. She looked so fucking hot and bothered.

“Ch-Charles, let me, please,” she pleaded me, reaching forward with her free hand and wrapping it around my cock. I widened my eyes, fuck that felt so good. I walked a little more forward. Her gaze was innocent despite her lips wrapping around the tip of my cock. I groaned loudly grabbing her hair. God she was doing so good.

Carlos POV:

I moved to suck on her clit, slipping away one of my hands from her thigh and pressing a finger between her wet folds. She moaned on Charles’s cock, causing him to pull a breath through his teeth. I gently brought my finger in and out of her, adding another.

I continued sucking her clit and I could feel that she was getting close. Her moans grew louder and louder.

“Carlos, please,” she begged, god I needed her so badly.

I stopped pleasuring her and got her off my face guiding her to the edge of the bed.

Charles walked to his dresser removing two condoms and passing me one.

“Thanks, mate,” I said quietly. We both ripped the packaging and slipped the condoms on.

“Come here, cariño,” I said to her. She came to me leaning down and kissing me as she planted a knee on each side of my body. I gladly returned the kiss, one hand on her back, the other lining my cock up with her entrance. The kiss deepened as she allowed me to fill her to the brim.

Second person POV:

Charles watched the both of you, aroused by the scene and watching Carlos fill you with ease. He stepped between Carlos’s parted legs, touching your lower back. He caressed the flesh of your ass, causing you to pull away from Carlos’s kisses and watch Charles. He took himself in his left hand, shifting to level before slowly entering you from behind. Your eyes rolled back, toes curling, and cunt clenching around Carlos as Charles entered you.

Both men gave you a moment to adjust; the sensation wasn’t new, but it was always slightly alarming initially. Charles leaned forward to kiss your shoulder before straightening back, waiting for the cue. You nodded aggressively, eyes squeezed shut as you clutched Carlos’s shoulders. Carlos kissed your temple before both men moved together, Carlos thrusting up into you and Charles’s thrusts pushing you forward. You moaned, ready to come apart right there.

They were slow at first, continuing to let you adjust like the gentlemen they were. Then, when the only noise you made was panting, they changed their pace, their hips snapping against you. You moaned, back arching, which pushed you further into Carlos. Carlos’s hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your flesh that you knew would leave a mark behind. Charles’s grip was a little looser than Carlos’s on your waist but would still leave faint marks behind.

The pace they set quickly brought you closer and closer to an orgasm, the sensations of both pumping in and out of you overwhelming your body. Carlos thrust up, hips lifting off the bed, and a spot inside you that made you see stars. You gasped, clutching his bicep to the point your nails dug in. The sound of panting and your moans echoed throughout the room, all three bodies glistening with a thin layer of sweat.

“Fuck!” you cried out, soon feeling the tension in your core snap. You squeezed around Carlos, the tightening of your walls pulling him with you, causing his lips to stutter and his grip to tighten. Despite fucking you from behind, the tension of your orgasm was enough to bring Charles to his climax. He rode through his orgasm, slowing his pace until he stopped.

You fell on Carlos, not caring if your full weight was on him. Both of you were a panting, sweating mess. He removed a hand from your waist, running his fingers through his hair. He laid his head back, staring at the ceiling as he tried to get his breathing down to normal. Charles leaned over you, panting, but he kissed your spine. You hummed softly, weakly glancing back at Charles. Your eyes met, and he offered you a gentle smile, rubbing your back before he removed himself from you.

Charles walked to the ensuite bathroom, going to quickly clean up before he joined the both of you in bed. Carlos tilted his head up, stroking your back before gently patting your bum. You sighed, sitting up and letting him hold the condom before you removed yourself. Carlos leaned over, moving some hair that stuck to the sweat on your forehead. He gave it a gentle kiss, stroking your hair in the process.

Charles quickly returned, picking you up from the end of the bed. Carlos stood up and went to the bathroom, patting Charles on the shoulder. He carried you bridal style to his side of the bed, kneeling to place you in the middle before laying down next to you. You lay on your back, staring at the ceiling until Charles was beside you. Your head turned to meet his eyes, a soft smile on both faces. He stroked your hair, and you gently caressed his thigh and knee and all three of you fell asleep.

#charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #f1 smut #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one #f1 #charles leclerc #carlos sainz #charles leclerc smut #carlos sainz smut

[endless-ineffabilities]

in the shadow of your heart (part two of two)

Daemon Targaryen x f!Reader

requested by anon: inspired by the plot of the movie Flipped, where the reader openly pines for Daemon, but he always brushes her off until one day, she stops bothering him.

word count: 11.2k ▪︎ part one ▪︎ masterlist

themes: pining, angst, language, Daemon being Daemon, slight Cregan Stark x f!reader, some smut (18+)

“Greetings, Prince Daemon.” Cregan Stark is the first to speak. His genial manner is something that draws everyone to him, warm and earnest. The Lord of the North is much beloved, and with good reason. As he assesses Prince Daemon, he easily notices the agitation in the prince’s stance. The confusion in his eyes. If Cregan also notices the subtle envy collecting in Daemon’s expression, he does not let it show.

“Lord Stark,” he saunters in your direction, slowly, like a predator who has finally cornered his prey. Taking in the competition like a practiced fighter.

“Lady Y/n.” He calls you by name, and you realize how much of a rarity it is. It’s always just You, a statement more than an endearment, or my little shadow. You still don’t know what to make of the latter. Shadow. Does that mean you are indispensable, a part of him he can never shake? Or does he see you as an unwanted presence?

“Daemon. How have you been, my prince?” An attempt at cordiality from you. You know Daemon doesn’t care much for such dialogue, but what else is there to say?

Why did you not show up at my nameday, like you promised?

Have you been finding comfort in Mysaria’s arms?     

Have I even crossed your mind, even once, or is my absence something that you welcome?

But you don’t make any of these thoughts heard. You don’t believe there would be a point. Besides, there is no need to air out your grievances whilst in the company of Cregan.

“I don’t know, my lady. Perhaps you could enlighten me. I have roamed nearly every inch of the palace grounds, and I’ve only just found you. You have not come to see me as of late, either.”

“I was not aware that you were expecting me, my prince.”

He scoffs, hating how formal you were being. Was this a show you were putting on for the Stark boy? Where are your throwaway smiles and your playful quips? Your appreciative gaze, drinking him in as if it were always the first time?

Cregan comes to your rescue, “I’m afraid I may be to blame for taking up the lady’s time, Prince Daemon. She makes for excellent company, as I think you know. She’s kindly been showing me around King’s Landing.”

“You’ve been around King’s Landing before, Stark. We were not aware you have taken a particular interest in the ins and outs of the city, but we’d be more than happy to provide you with our best maester to tell you everything you need to know. I’m sure the lady has much better things to do with her time. Besides, after a while, you might like a change of scenery. One that she wouldn’t know how to provide.”

What in the seven hells is that supposed to mean? Of course, the first time you meet in a long while, Daemon has surely stored some kind words to tell you.

“Don’t worry, Daemon. I can assure you that we’ve been making good use of our time together,” you look at him directly, no longer bothering with the niceties. Daemon knows how you really are, after all. He’s seen you flustered, embarrassed, angry. Mostly, he’s seen you pining. Wanting. For him. You’ve always been open around him, not holding anything back. Daemon enjoyed your brazenness, so unlike the other frilly maidens who clamber for his attention. But what changed?

“If you don’t mind, Lord Stark, I’d like a moment alone with the lady.” Daemon readily meets your gaze, barely giving mind to Cregan, who is now halfway covering you from his vision, as if preparing to protect you from him should the need arise. The nerve of this fucking Northern Lord.

“Honour demands that I only leave if this is what the lady wishes, Prince Daemon.” Cregan declares, his voice steady.

Bloody Northerners and their honour. “I was not presenting you with a request, Stark. Try not to get on my nerve.”

“Alright,” you speak up, “it’s okay, Cregan. I’ll come find you later.”

Daemon notes the familiarity with which you addressed the Stark boy, and it doesn’t sit well with him. “Yes, run along, young wolf.” He doesn’t drop your gaze, doesn’t watch Cregan walk away.

So, he also does not notice Cregan throw you a comforting wink as he disappears from view, leaving you with Daemon on the rooftop. Daemon’s mood considered; this is probably for the best.

The air is thick with words unsaid, and while Daemon relaxes his stance, his face betrays a storm of emotion. Ones that he is not equipped to deal with. Jealousy? Unrequited yearning? Uncertainty? What can he possibly say that would be enough? So he settles for, “You look well, my shadow.”

“As do you, my prince. Enjoying the comforts of home, I’d hope?”

“Tell me this,” Daemon impatience flares, “why have I not seen you around? They used to be rare, the days in which you would not simply make your presence known to me.”

“That’s why I got to be called your shadow, was it not? That I was always following you around like a pest, driving you to irritation. There were moments wherein I could swear that I saw you grimace at my arrival - ”

“A pest?” He looks taken aback. He reaches for your arm, but you sidestep and fold your arms behind you, “Y/n, where is all this coming from?”

“I think you know quite well, Daemon.”

“Would it delight you to hear that I may have missed your company, no matter how unreasonably persistent it might have been?” Daemon’s smirk is dangerous, capable of breaking through your icy approach.

“Unreasonably persistent? Is this your way of making amends, my prince? You might need a lesson in tact from your markedly more diplomatic brother.”

“I was never one to bother with needless flattery. Unless directed at me, of course.” His smirk grows even wider, enjoying the resurgence of your familiar banter.

Your tone turns sour, almost angry even, one that Daemon has not heard before, “You promised that you would attend my nameday festivities, and yet you did not. I waited for you, like the stupid little shadow that you have deemed me to be, and for nothing. I don’t know why I even expected you to come, given what you clearly think of me.” Your voice breaks at the end, and it snags at Daemon’s heart.

“I did not think you cared much for such frivolities, and…well, I…”

“No, I did not. I don’t. I only cared whether you would be there, so that I might see you. So that you might greet me with the smug smirk of yours. So that you might even ask me for a dance,” you pace around Daemon, your mind lost in thought of what could have been, “But no matter. It’s all over and done with now. We can keep such nonsense in the past, Prince Daemon. You no longer need to waste your time with me.”

“Y/n,” he says your name with such clarity, such emotion, as he moves to narrow the space between the two of you, “I sincerely apologize if I was not there for your nameday. Had I thought that my presence would mean that much to you, then I surely would have come.”

That’s not enough, Daemon. That’s not what I need.

You notice the sincerity in his eyes as he continues, “I don’t want you to be cross with me. And… I don’t want you to think that I… think little of you. You are not. You are - ”

“You were like my sun, you know. My entire world revolved around you. You were in everything that I could see.” Your face morphs into a mixture of sadness, and longing, and acceptance. Daemon notes that you were speaking of things as if it were already in the past, and he does not like it at all.

He lets you continue, even though it pains him to see the turmoil in your expression, “Daemon, I… I thought about you when I woke, and when I went to bed. You were intoxicating… and fucking infuriating, because you clearly did not share the same sentiment when it came to me. I was simply there.”

“Listen, I don’t know what you fucking expect of me,” he counters, not willing to comprehend that your words can bring him to fold so quickly, “but you know exactly who I am. What I am, my shadow.”

“Did I not make it clear to you just how I felt?” You ask. Your gazes are locked and heated. The distance between you has narrowed, and he can feel your warm breath on his face. He notices the way your chest rises and falls, the slope of your breasts, the furrowing of your eyebrows which he finds endearing. You stand so close, an alluring distraction, nearly making him lose all train of thought.

“For fuck’s sake, of course. Everyone could see it!” He snaps, raising his voice at you.

“And yet, it did not matter.”

“No, it matters - ” he pauses, looking away, “I just… don’t know…”

You straighten, “You know what, it’s perfectly fine, Daemon. Why were you looking for me?”

“I thought I already mentioned. I was wondering where you’ve been all this time. Whatever wrongs you believe I have done to you, it was never my intention. I do not wish to be rid of your presence. It does not…” When his eyes capture yours once again, you see the inner turmoil reflected within, “It does not feel right without you around… my shadow.”

You want so badly to take his hand as you had done so many times before, and reassure him that everything is fine. But Rhaenyra’s advice had struck you, so well that it rings true in your mind as you look at Daemon. “Make him hunger for you,” she had said, eyes glinting mischievously, “so that he may realize what it is he may be at risk of losing, if he does not get his act together. And, well, if he still does not treat you as you deserve, then surely someone else will.”

You would have chased Daemon to the ends of the Seven Kingdoms, but you can only pursue someone so far before you might tip over the edge of the world yourself.

“I understand, Daemon. I am not angry at you. Truthfully, I don’t think I could ever be.” You offer a comforting smile, but it does not reach your eyes.

“Very well, then. On the morrow, I shall once again conduct my training in the courtyard. I expect you to be there.”

When you narrow your eyes at his implication, he adds, softly, “I mean, I want you to be there.”

You smile, and echo his exact words from weeks ago, when you gave word to him about your festivities, “I’d be loathe to miss a good training display of yours, my prince. I’ll be there.”

There may be a lot more than needs to be said, that Daemon wants to say. But he cannot find the words. He is not even certain what it is that compelled him to seek you out today. Or if he is, he is not ready to face it yet.

“I shall take my leave, my prince,” you curtsy, “I’ll be seeing you.”

He watches as you walk away. He is covered in sunlight from where he stands, the wind gently blowing mild and pleasant. And yet he feels cold, and his spirit is strained, as if this unspoken stalemate between the two of you casts a gloom over his days. As if you had taken all warmth along with you.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Daemon swings forcefully, toppling his opponent to the ground.

“Again!” He yells, “I thought you cunts are supposed to be decent fighters, at the very least. And yet even the whores in the Street of Silk might make for better competitors.”

Not one of his gold cloaks makes a move, and they all look at him warily. Their commander has been heated all morning, and they have taken the brunt of his rage.

The spectators have created a wider berth around him than usual, while they mostly whisper to each about the prince’s nasty temper.

One of the braver gold cloaks, Maron Tyrell, decides to approach him, “My prince, perhaps we should conclude our training exercise for today. The men are drained and wish to - ”

“We finish when I say so,” Daemon emphasizes every word in his displeasure, “not at your fucking heed.”

Maron persists, forgetting to mind the risk of talking back to Daemon when he is in this state, “We noticed that a certain Lady is not among the spectators, my prince. Your shadow, I think that is what you deem her to be, and rightfully so, I mean… don’t you think that actually made this morning’s activities more bearable, without her needlessly yapping at you at every-”

Maron does not get to finish his jibe about you, as Daemon pummels the young knight into the ground. His fist collides with Maron’s face, again and again, until he is pulled back by several of his struggling men.

“Prince Daemon!” A cacophony erupts around the courtyard – pleas for him to cease, gasps of shock and worry, even some callous laughter at the absurdity of the situation. The rogue prince has assailed one of his very own men. One of his loyal devotees. An undignified act, even for the volatile prince.

“Get your fucking hands off me,” Daemon squirms out of the grip of his men, and storms out of the courtyard, people parting like waves in his path. His knuckle is bruised and partially covered in Maron Tyrell’s blood. Yet, he cannot bring himself to care.

For what is a man without his shadow? He might as well just be gone.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Lord Mathias Tyrell, the Lord of Highgarden, your Grace." A member of the Kingsguard announces the new arrival, his clear voice resounding in the throne room.

The imposing hall is nearly empty, apart from King Viserys who stands at the foot of the Iron Throne, several members of the Kingsguard, and his Hand, Lord Otto Hightower.

The elderly Tyrell walks in with a dignified air. There is a slight hunch in his posture, but his gaze is trained straight ahead. King Viserys meets him halfway, with a welcoming smile on his face, "My Lord Tyrell, what a pleasure this is, truly."

"My King," Mathias bows his head once, then looks at Viserys again, eager to finally make his appeal known, "I do hope my arrival is not untimely. It has been a while since we last convened, you and I."

"Not at all, Mathias," Viserys says, "I am always at your disposal for any important matter that you wish to bring to my attention, as I understand this is the case at present."

"Yes, well, let me begin by relaying my wife Lady Lenna's well wishes for you, my King. She feels honoured to have been a friend to your late wife Queen Aemma, and we only hope the best for your family."

Viserys nods amiably, accustomed to such flattering declarations from Lords and Ladies alike. He also knows by now that such, while potentially genuine, are usually followed by either a complaint or a petition. As if he was being softened up for what follows.

“Which is why it saddened me greatly to hear that a certain member of your family had attacked one of mine. The inducement of this remains beyond my understanding. My nephew, Maron, a member of your gold cloaks, is currently being attended to by our finest maesters, after suffering several injuries at the hands of Prince Daemon.”

“What?” Viserys’ friendly expression falls, “Daemon?” He looks toward Otto Hightower in hopes of some clarification.

“My King, we have just received word of this incident, and we were planning to discuss this in our council meeting on the morrow. The prince is required to attend, after all, which gives him a chance to elucidate his actions.” Otto explains placatingly.

“Daemon,” Viserys repeats his brother’s name, breathing it out like a curse. It was no longer any surprise to him to hear of such an act committed by his brother. He merely hoped that their occurrences would grow fewer and farther between.

“I knew you would understand the seriousness of this matter, my King. House Tyrell has, after all, always supported House Targaryen since the age of the Conqueror. All I want is for Prince Daemon to answer for what he had done to my nephew, in any way that you see fit.”

Viserys puts on his best placating smile, “Of course, Mathias. It shall be done. Now will that be all? I’m afraid I have some other matters to attend to.”

The Lord of Highgarden does not fail to notice the poorly hidden irritation in the King’s face, and he is quick to be done with the formalities of making himself scarce, exchanging a few choice words before bowing and promptly leaving the throne room.

“Well?” Viserys looks around the throne room, addressing whoever might have answers, “where the fuck is he?”

Otto squirms where he stands, “I can send for him right away, your Grace.”

They will soon realize that Prince Daemon’s whereabouts will elude them that day, as he had taken refuge in the clandestine quarters of the Lady Mysaria after the incident in the courtyard. However, the usual pleasures will not be exchanged between the two. Daemon no longer possesses the eagerness to lose himself in his apparently favoured woman. Mysaria does not press on, letting the prince get some much-needed rest. She does take note of one name uttered from his lips as he succumbs into slumber. Yours.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

The members of the Small Council settle around the table, each one placing their round totem in front of them. The council meeting has begun.

Each Lord sits alert, ready to present their reports and findings for the week. Lord Corlys on the ongoing war in the Stepstones. Lord Beesbury on lowering the common tax for grain. Lord Lannister on arranging a play for the nobility. And so on. At the head of the table, however, their King does not appear to give off his usual air of graciousness. He leans to the side of his chair, routinely running his hand over his face in frustration.

Lord Beesbury speaks up, “Your Grace, shall we start with - ”

“Where is my brother?” Viserys’ voice is irate, his query directed at Lord Otto.

“We summoned him, your Grace, but he made it clear that he had other pressing matters to attend to.” Otto speaks slowly, clearly, in hopes that Viserys does not take his frustration out on him. “He mentioned having to meet with the Lady Y/n,” At this, Otto looks at your father across the table.

“My daughter?” Your father says, “I assure you, your Grace, I am not aware that she has any pressing matter with Prince Daemon. I would not even go so far to say that they are acquaintances.”

“Oh, Lord, you must know,” Tyland Lannister says, almost mockingly.

“Know what, my Lord?” your father asks, incredulous.

“Your daughter has been openly pining for the rogue prince. It’s common knowledge. She has not been shy about her affections, mind you,” Tyland smirks.

“I know nothing of this. My daughter has just begun a courtship with Lord Cregan Stark himself, and this I approve of. It would be unseemly for her to get involved with Prince Daemon in the way that you are insinuating.”

“What is the truth?” Viserys raises his voice, then turning to Otto, he adds, “Have you heard of this development?”

“I did not believe it to be consequential, your Grace. The prince has his share of admirers, after all.” Otto replies.

Viserys sighs heavily, thinking of how things will never just be simple when it comes to his brother. “Well, has he been receptive of the young lady’s affections?”

Lord Beesbury says, “The consensus has been that the prince has largely ignored them, your Grace.”

“Seven hells,” Viserys lets out a dry laugh in disbelief, “How come everyone knows of this matter except for me, the man in question’s own brother?”

“If I may respond to what Lord Beesbury just claimed, it does not seem that way. At least not anymore. Word has been circulating of yesterday’s incident, and apparently, the reason why Prince Daemon assaulted Maron Tyrell is because the latter brought up the subject of Lady y/n, and not in the nicest way.” Tyland says.

Lord Corlys intervenes, “Might we get on with more urgent business, lords?”

Viserys sits silently for a moment, letting all of the information sink in. He looks around the council table, baffled at the ridiculous scenario in front of him – the highest-ranking officials of the Seven Kingdoms prompted to engage in chitchat all because of this whole affair between yourself and Prince Daemon. “My lords,” he finally says, “Lord Corlys is right. We have better things to do with our time than to fucking gossip. I shall deal with my brother myself.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

The same morning, in another corner of the sprawling castle, you stand in your chambers, arranging the books on the shelf. You have just gone on a stroll with Rhaenyra, and are just taking a short rest. You startle slightly when your lady-in-waiting Hestia walks in.

“Good morrow, my lady.”

“To you as well, Hestia.” You smile in return.

“I have a message to relay, my lady,” she timidly says, “Earlier, when you had departed, Prince Daemon visited your chambers.”

You freeze. “Daemon?”

“Y-yes, my lady. I had walked in to change the linens, and he was already sitting there at your desk. Waiting for you, it seemed.”

“And? Did he mention anything to you?” You ask gently.

“He wants to meet you in the godswood, my lady. He said that he will anticipate you there at around noon.”

You note to yourself that noon is fast approaching. “Hmm. I see.” Hestia smiles comfortingly at you, and you can deduce that there is more that she wants to say.

“How did he seem, the prince, whilst he was here?” You engage her further, genuinely curious yourself.

“If I may be blunt, my lady, he seemed quite distressed. He appeared as if he was lacking in rest, and well… he really did seem eager to find you.”

You walk over to your chair and slump down in a dramatic huff, “Ah, it appears that I have found myself in quite the conundrum.”

Hestia smiles, following you, “What a conundrum, though, my lady. Prince Daemon and Lord Cregan vying for your hand? Nearly every eligible lady in all the kingdoms would feel envious of you.”

Your smile is wistful when you say, “It’s not quite the fairy tale that it seems, Hestia. I mean, you know how Prince Daemon is.”

“So it is Prince Daemon whom you favour?”

“What made you think so?”

“Well, I can’t be certain, my lady. It’s just that… he’s the one you chose to mention. His is always the name that you bring up, as opposed to Lord Cregan’s.”

Huh. I really must have been fixated on Daemon, haven’t I, if everyone is still of the impression that I want him, even with Cregan in the picture.

Do I want him?

“My lady?” Hestia’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts, “are you alright?”

“Yes,” you clear your throat, and stand, “I think I have somewhere to be.”

“To meet with Prince Daemon?”

How could I ever not want him?

“Perhaps.” You look back at Hestia, eyes glinting in anticipation, before leaving your chambers.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

You walk through the hallways, still uncertain whether the godswood will be your destination. Whether Daemon will be your destination.

The weather is quite lovely anyway. Why not sit and enjoy some calm in the godswood? Deep down, you know that your reasoning, while sound, is a mere excuse for wanting to see Daemon.

Turning the corner, you see your father coming your way. He calls for you with a wave, and you rush toward him with a smile, “Good morrow, father.” You kiss him lightly on the cheek. “I was just heading to the godswood. Perhaps I shall take a book from the library and - ”

“To meet with Prince Daemon?” Your father's voice is stern, and you become nervous.

You tilt your head, unsure of how to respond. Your father continues, “This matter was brought to my attention, in the council meeting of all places! I felt like a bumbling fool. My own daughter, and I did not know.”

“You’re certainly not a fool, father. And - ”

“How long has this been going on?”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow.” Your brows furrow in frustration.

“This affair between yourself and Prince Daemon. Do you not have any mind for decency? How must this look? Cregan Stark is courting you, and here you are, running around with the rogue prince.” He speaks in hushed whispers, as if he is afraid of being overheard, but the anger in his tone can easily be detected.

“I am not sure what you heard, father, but I am not having an affair with Prince Daemon.” You lean back, also growing irate at his tone.

“Everyone knows, my child. I do know that you are intelligent, and that you mean well, but this - ”

“I was quite… smitten with him. Only that. But it is over now.”

“Is it? Then how come he apparently came to your defense yesterday, assailing Maron Tyrell when he spoke out of turn about you?”

“What?”

“Word has spread, and King Viserys has been saddled with the laborious task yet again of having to make amends on his brother’s behalf.”

“Oh, I didn’t know.” You remember that you meant to visit the courtyard for his training, but instead opted to read with Cregan Stark in the library. You did not think Daemon would particularly mind, and truth be told, you wanted to give a taste of his own medicine. You made your mistake in believing that Daemon might approach it just like anyone else – with a reasonable amount of impatience and irritation. But of course, it’s Daemon.

You want to appease your father’s worries, so you say, “The next time I see Daemon, I shall make things clear. There will no longer be anything between him and I. Not that there ever was anything before.” You can’t help but look away sadly, but then your father pulls you in for a hug.

“I trust that you will do the right thing. Lord Cregan is a man of true honour and kindness. You deserve someone like him.”

“I know.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Moments later, just before you make a turn into the open area of the godswood, someone catches you by the elbow.

“Hello, lass.” Cregan says. “I am happy to see you.”

“Cregan,” you attempt to hide your surprise with a smile, “ perhaps you were simply following me?”

“That idea did cross my mind, yes,” he jests in return, “but I’d much rather have you aware of my presence so you can indulge yourself in my undeniable charm.”

“Ever so humble, my Lord of the North.” You have grown accustomed to his witty quips, easily shared, making whoever he converses with comfortable. When you had mentioned it, he assured you however that the doting glint in his eyes is reserved for you only.

“Having a good day so far?” He draws you in close by the waist, his sincere gaze boring into yours.

“Very much so, thank you. I was just about to, uhm, spend some time in the godswood.”

“I shall accompany you then, my lady, if you would allow me.”

“Oh, I - ”

“There you are.” You turn towards the familiar voice. Daemon has found you. “I thought I heard you.”

“Ah, Prince Daemon, ever a pleasure.” Cregan loosens his hold on you, but he does not let go. You notice Daemon’s eyes draw downward to Cregan’s arm around your waist, and his jaw clenches.

“Oh, I wish I could say the same, young wolf. But I have been waiting in the godswood for the Lady Y/n, and I can see that you are taking up her precious time. Keeping her from me.” Daemon spits the final words, making his annoyance clear.

“Daemon, I was just about to come see you,” you say.

“I thought you were going to spend time in the godswood?” Cregan looks at you confused.

“Yes, she is,” Daemon chimes in, “with me.”

“Simply to talk.” You start to become anxious with how the two men are sizing each other up, cold expressions plastered on their faces.

“No matter,” Cregan shrugs, “might I accompany you too, my lady?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

You and Daemon speak at the same instant, your contrasting responses putting a pause on the whole exchange. The silence is filled with tension, with Daemon staring at you intently. A slight smirk rests on his lips, and you can tell, he is enjoying this. He takes pleasure in being able to get under your skin.

You might be right, but in that moment, Daemon’s mind also wanders to the smoothness of your skin. The fire in your eyes. His stare grazes your decolletage, exposed by your dress, the very same dress he had disparaged weeks prior. How foolish of me. Anything she wears is immediately more refined as a result. Although I’d much see rather that dress on the fucking floor.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that there is still something between the two of you.” Cregan’s voice cuts through the silence. When you turn to him questioningly, he explains, “I have heard whispers here and there about a possible mutual affection that you share.”

“Prince Daemon and I are merely friends,” you clarify, “and even this I have reason to doubt.” You glare at Daemon, imploring him to not cross the line.

“We are friends,” Daemon grits his teeth, “come with me, Y/n.”

You continue to challengingly stare at Daemon, and any passer-by would immediately feel the tension. They would also be quick to assume that the connection lies between yourself and Daemon, not Cregan. Not that you would be willing to admit it straightaway.

“Forget about the godswood,” you look between both men, “Rhaenyra tells me of a travelling theatre troupe that will be conducting their show in the Red Keep this afternoon. I think I fancy heading over and seeing it for myself.”

You start to walk away, not paying mind to either the dragon or the wolf.

I’m done with this bickering. Let them follow me if they wish.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

After a short period of deliberating and preparing, you find yourself walking the streets of the Red Keep, with Daemon walking close to one side and Cregan to the other.

Hestia follows suit, conversing with Cregan’s young squire, Pod. You had looked back to her to give a comforting smile, and you could tell that she was slightly intimidated by the member of the Kingsguard accompanying your little group. The knight is a looming figure of hunkering armour, walking close behind her and Pod.

Daemon and Cregan both offered an arm for you to hold onto at the start of your stroll, but you avoided the pain of choosing by clasping your hands in front of you, walking forward with your head held high.

You reach the city centre, and Cregan points to a fountain in the middle of the plaza. “I remember when you took me there, darling. We had the most pleasant afternoon.”

Daemon snorts upon hearing that, “The bloody fountain?”

Pod comes up to speak with Cregan about the tasks he has to fulfill for the day, demanding his attention, and they shuffle to the side in discussion.

“Yes, Daemon, the bloody fountain. We sat, had the best lemon cakes, and conversed with the common folk. Activities that are not to your taste, I’m sure,” you matched his sardonic inflection.

“I thought you would have preferred mulberry tarts,” Daemon responds, matter-of-factly.

Your lips part in mild surprise. “How could you have guessed that?”

“You might have mentioned it once, weeks ago.”

“Huh.” You continue to stare at him in disbelief. So he does listen to me.

You had the impression that all those times when you prattled in his ear, your words would simply dissolve into air. Like an incessant tune droning on in the background. Daemon always looked as if he was pondering some other more important thought.

“You continue to surprise me, Daemon.”

“And you never fail to pleasantly disrupt my life at every turn,” he remarks, the corners of his mouth turning upward.

“Since you used the word pleasantly then I shall assume that it’s a good thing. But disrupt? How so?”

He kicks a pebble across the cobblestones, lost in thought, “This is the last thing that I would have ever expected, my shadow.”

You continue to look at him in suspense, your heart thudding in your chest. Try as you might, Daemon still has that effect on you.

He continues, “I never expected to… feel this… about you.”

“Feel what?” He turns to you, and softens at the sight of your innocent expression, your eyes wide and glistening. You’ve always gazed at him in such an open and caring manner, unaffected by the reality of his reputation. Very much unlike other people, who are almost invariably wary or distrustful when dealing with him. He has accepted that he needs someone like you. But recently, it became clearer. He only needed you.

“Prince Daemon,” a familiar soft, accented voice calls out.

The spell is broken. You turn toward the new arrival. The lady Mysaria.

“Good day, my lady,” you greet her reluctantly. You badly wish to move close to Cregan and engage him in conversation, just so you would not be privy to the interaction between Daemon and Mysaria, but something keeps you rooted in place.

“Good day to you as well, lady Y/n.”

“Have you come to watch the performance?” you tilt your head toward the stage that is being set up on one side of the plaza.

“I’m afraid I don’t have the time for such frivolities at present, my lady,” she smiles thinly, before turning to Daemon, “I am glad I found you, my prince. I would have waited until you eventually came to see me again, but since you are here, I want to return this to you.”

She reaches out her hand, and in it lies an ornate ring, decorated with an exquisite blood-red ruby. An inscription in High Valyrian is carved on the band.

Daemon snatches it swiftly, “Right. Good eye.”

“I recognized this to be one of your Targaryen heirlooms. You must have dropped it when you spent the night with me.” She steps closer to him, caressing his arm.

Your heart sinks. What did you expect – that Daemon would ever commit to you? He has been making gestures that are unusual for him, giving you just the slightest hint of hope. And now, this.

He was right. You do know exactly who he is. What he is. The lady Mysaria can be taken as confirmation of this.

“Would you excuse me?” you clear your throat, and start to walk over to Cregan.

Daemon notices the drop in your spirits - in the frown that formed on your lips, and the way your shoulders scrunched forward. He knows that you are aware of him looking at you imploringly. You refuse to meet his gaze, and continue to ignore him as he stares daggers at your retreating figure.

Daemon shrugs Mysaria’s hold off his arm, taking a step back. He is not certain what to say, and Mysaria senses his agitation.

“You desire the lady Y/n,” she states, not a shred of doubt in her enticing voice.

“You know nothing of it,” Daemon spits defensively.

“You do. You want her. I can see it in your eyes,” Mysaria repeats, “It’s a novel thing, as you once told me that she is someone whom you merely tolerate.”

And I fucking wish I knew better. “I’ll be damned if I’m not capable of changing my mind.”

“Or perhaps you always wanted her, and you just were not aware of it? You did speak plenty of her even before,” she muses, as she knows that Daemon will not deny her keen eye for observation.

Daemon and Mysaria look over to you, as you stand with the rest of your group. You smile, and stroke Hestia’s back soothingly. Cregan leans over to you, and you laugh at whatever he has whispered.

Daemon sulks, hands firmly clasped in front of him. “Fucking Stark.”

“She wants you too, you know,” Mysaria smiles.

This piques Daemon’s attention, though his face remains sour, “Don’t toy with me. Perhaps she did, but now - ”

“She still does. In time, you will both see the truth of it all. Good fortune, Prince Daemon.” she walks away, her long tresses blowing softly in the breeze, but pauses and turns halfway, “Just don’t be stupid.”

Daemon nods once, feeling hopeful anew.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

One brisk morning, you sit peacefully in the gardens, a new book in your hands. You sit comfortably, your legs tucked underneath you on the seat. Daemon once remarked of how he liked the careless way with which you sit, to which you rolled your eyes, “Don’t mock me, Daemon. My father has scolded me plenty about how I don’t sit like a proper lady.”

Daemon just snickered at that, and playfully pulled at your ankle. That was one of your more amicable exchanges. Even now, your mind trains back to him, as if his absence is a thing that demands to be felt. Even after you believe yourself to have grown resolute at giving up any romantic notion when it comes to Daemon, after the encounter with Mysaria a few days prior.

Hestia sits beside you, crocheting, her needle deftly held between her slender fingers.

“My lady,” she says, looking to the side at the hedges, “I think you have a shadow.”

You follow her gaze and see him. The prince currently occupying your thoughts. As he always has. Daemon leans against the bark of a tree, evidently watching you. A smirk forms on his lips when he sees you finally notice him.

Your shadow.

You throw him a questioning look from afar. He merely shrugs his shoulders and starts to confidently walk toward you. He reaches you, and you just stare at each other in relative silence.

“You,” you say, as he had always done upon seeing you.

“Excuse me, lady Y/n, Prince Daemon,” Hestia curtsies to the both of you, then proceeds to take her leave. She smiles slyly at you over her shoulder, and you know she will want to be filled in about what happens later on. You consider yourself fortunate that your lady-in-waiting grew to become one of your closest confidantes.

“My shadow,” he says smoothly, then sits beside you.

“I might go so far as to say that the tables have turned. You are my shadow now, Prince Daemon.”

“Hmm,” he sneers, “No Stark boy today?”

“He’s visiting his sister, but he shall return soon. He promised me.”

“I’d much prefer it if he were to never set foot in King’s Landing ever again,” he comments casually.

“Jealous are we, my shadow?” you look at him teasingly through your lashes, realizing in that split moment, how easy it is. Being around him feels natural, despite the flares in his disposition and his offhand remarks.

You also realize that it is not completely the same with Cregan, as sweet and perfect as he might be. There is a sense of trying to fulfil your duty as a lady from a noble house, when it comes to your courtship with the young wolf.

But you have always chosen Daemon. If only he would choose you in return.

“I could ask the same of you. I saw the way you were glaring at Mysaria,” he smirks, raising his eyebrows tauntingly.

“I was not glaring at her.”

“Oh no, apologies, not glaring,” he raises his hands in faux surrender, “Not glaring. Seething.”

“Can you honestly blame me?” your face turns gloomy as you look off into the distance.

Daemon feels the drop in your demeanour, and his heart sinks. Must I always be the root of her heartache? Have I not done enough?

As if on instinct, he reaches across, and squeezes your hand, “My shadow, you must know, I have not bed any other, have not even looked at any other, ever since…”

You look down at your joined hands, his hand wider and calloused around yours. You’ve always known, when you would hold his hand to give him comfort, that it was always for your sake as well. His touch calmed you, but it was as if you had to steal moments of it for yourself.

This feels different. His thumb lazily strokes the back of your hand. You watch his eyes roam your face, from your eyes to your lips and back.

You wait for him to say the words. To say anything that would validate your longing.

“Now, I’m going to attempt something, my shadow, and you mustn’t be angry with me. Alright?”

“Daemon.”

“Alright?”

“Okay.”

Your breath catches in your throat when he leans closer, close enough that you feel his warm breath on your skin. Even closer, as you feel his lips graze yours, ever so gently. His eyes continue to search yours, gauging your reaction.

Then he presses his lips to yours. The countless times you had imagined that way it would feel, certainly does not do it any justice. Not even a little bit.

You let out a sound of appreciation, a soft little moan against his mouth, overwhelmed by the sensation. He pulls away for a second, hums affectionately, and runs his thumb over your lips. You let out a laugh, feeling light-hearted. He smiles at you, at his little shadow, before motioning towards your lips with a tilt of his jaw.

You kiss him again, and he feels his heart beating faster than ever before. The rogue prince, quite possibly one of the most notorious philanderers in the Seven Kingdoms, feeling flustered over you. You blossom into him, revealing yourself like you never had, his beloved shadow being engulfed and warmed by his sunlight.

His mouth becomes insistent in brushing against yours, his tongue tracing your lips. A shiver runs down your spine, your nerves set completely alight. His tongue mingles with yours, and you savour the taste of peppermint and sweet wine.

Reluctantly, grudgingly, you find whatever little impulse you have to pull away.

Your breath comes out in pants, and you raise your fingertips to feel where his lips were once on yours.

He studies your face, wondering what thoughts fill your mind.

You stand abruptly and begin to pace in front of him.

“Shadow?” he stops you, keeping you still with his hands on your shoulders.

“W-why?” you question.

He is still half-dazed from your taste, your scent all around him, “Don’t you see? I want you.”

“You want me?” your tone rises in disbelief.

“Must I repeat myself?” he nearly rolls his eyes, but keeps his manner sincere, “I’ve never been the sort of man to deny myself the desires of my heart. And my heart only wants you.”

Just give in. Kiss him again, throw reason away to the wind. Forget any doubt, any past grievances. He says he is yours now.

But you remember all those moments wherein you made yourself available to him. To be his friend, his source of comfort, his defender. Any way he wished to have you. You desired him. You wanted him. You loved him.

You love him. But for so long, he turned the other way. You had held your heart out for him to take, and he did not. He merely tolerated it.

“Daemon,” you shut your eyes, needing to clear your head, “what of Cregan?”

“What of him?” he hisses, eyes narrowing.

You become infuriated, “Seven hells, I am in the middle of a fucking courtship!”

“An empty formality.” Of course Daemon would believe so.

“We should not have kissed. It is not respectful to Cregan.”

His hand moves to grip your face, tilting your head, and you are caught up in the passion in his violet eyes, “Did you not enjoy it? Did you not like kissing me?”

“You know I bloody well did.”

“We can speak with your father and end this farce of a courtship. You need not continue - ”

You interrupt, “It wouldn’t be right. Cregan is a decent, and loving man. My father says so himself. He would make for a good husband.”

“And I wouldn’t?” his hands drop to his side, and he takes a step back.

“I don’t know. I have to learn how to trust you again. After everything.”

His eyes are tormented as he looks away.

“Daemon, I need time. I want to be completely certain if I will have to give up a life with Cregan.”

“Because he matters so much to you,” he sighs, appearing dejected.

“I’ve grown to value him for who he is. He’s my friend, and I had entered this courtship in hopes that it would help me forget about you. And I was thinking that perhaps, I could learn to love him… in time.”

“Don’t,” is all he can bring himself to say.

“I did not believe you cared for me, as I did you. It is only now that this,” you gesture between the two of you, “ever became anything. For you, at least. There was once a time wherein there was only you for me, but now, I just need some time.”

Daemon says nothing, letting your words sink in. His jaw clenches, deep in thought.

“Daemon,” you take his hand, “say something.”

He doesn’t. In a flash, he simply connects his lips to yours again, sucking the breath from your lungs. Your worries cease, as you give in to him. You reach upward to entangle your fingers in his silver hair; his hands hold your waist tightly.

In true Daemon fashion, his lusty resolve breaks, and he lets his hands slide downward to grip your backside. You moan, and bite his lip as a result.

He smirks, breaking the kiss, his forehead pressing against yours, “Okay, my shadow. I will wait.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

The days are long and languid. Daemon thinks so. He does not have much to occupy his time apart from his duties as Commander of the City Watch. He used to gain just the barest enjoyment from it, from ensuring that the city’s vermin are put to justice. But everything feels gray, devoid of any appeal. Nothing made him incandescent. He merely watched, and waited. For you.

He remembers you as he sits in the courtyard. He remembers the way you cheered for him while he trained, the way you sneered at his opponents, cussed at them even. The intensity in your expression was almost too much at times; you were so invested in his insignificant, little displays of skill. You were always there for him.

He remembers you when he strolls into the gardens, where you first met. You had been reading in solitude that fateful afternoon, your brows furrowed over a passage that baffled you. Something about witches in the histories of Westeros, you told him afterward. He responded, “Why, do you fear you might be a witch yourself? You certainly possess the ferocity.” So crude, you thought, so intriguing. So this is Prince Daemon Targaryen.

“Careful now, my prince. I just might put a spell on you.” you smiled at him, the very first time. He thought you very comely, but then again, he thought the same of several dozen other ladies. You thought him inexplicable, his reputation preceding him. The Rogue Prince, the rebellious second son. The patron saint of delinquents and whores, Otto Hightower once told your father. But you thought him amazing. Different. Dangerous. That very night, he filled your dreams. Since then, Daemon Targaryen became your sun.

On one of these mindless strolls, he comes across you. He cannot help it, and so he trails you, like a shadow. Every step feels heavy, because you are not alone. Your arm is looped around the wolf boy’s, walking too close for Daemon’s liking.

When he sees you kissing Cregan Stark, he sees red. He feels ill, fueled with rage. He saw it unfolding, the Stark boy running his fingers over your cheekbone, and then slowly closing the distance between you two. You stand arrested by the moment, seemingly apprehensive, but you don’t move away. The way the Stark boy curls his fingers firmly on your waist, drawing you close, he wishes he had done that.

He wishes he had pulled you close when you wiped the sweat from his forehead on those days you watched him train. In those moments when he was overcome with emotion and you would hold his hand. He had walked away, or turned to someone completely insignificant, when he could have held you. When he could have kissed you, much better than the Stark boy kisses you now.

Every part of him wishes to end the Stark boy’s life. He wants to strike him down in front of you. He wants to get you back.

But seven hells, Viserys would cast him out for good. He has only just returned to his brother’s good graces, the incident with Maron Tyrell having just been resolved.

And you. You would never forgive him. You would never speak to him again. And he can’t have that. He can’t live with that. He won’t.

He needs you, he knows this now.

He loves you, he is certain.

You had become Daemon Targaryen’s sun. As he was once yours.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

There is a storm raging over King’s Landing. Heavy rain is pelting against your windows, and thunder echoes across the skies, a blanket of shadow covering the kingdom’s capital.

You sit in front of your mirror, absentmindedly running a comb through your hair. The week has felt long and languid. You certainly think so. You’ve had much to occupy your time – Cregan, duties with your father, lessons with the Septa, poring over books in the great library.

And yet, everything feels gray, as if devoid of warmth, not unlike the state of the city at present.

Daemon has been flooding your thoughts, despite your reluctance. You have been trying to not let your mind flash back to the kiss, without much success. A knot in your belly formed the moment Cregan’s lips touched yours, because you realized that you wish it had been Daemon instead.

It is as if your heart is sound in its resolve, its verdict clear. It is now left to you to either embrace the truth that it speaks, or stifle it, for the sake of an obvious consolation.

Daemon. You close your eyes, in remembrance of how he tastes. What if he loses heart? What if he no longer waits?

A sound catches your ear, one you think to be a faint knock, but it is overshadowed by a crackle of thunder booming outside at the same time.

The knocking repeats, a consistent rapping on the heavy wooden door.

You cautiously walk over, confused as to who would be visiting your chambers at this late hour.

“Who’s there?” you call out.

“Shadow.” You freeze, you would recognize this voice anywhere.

With tentative hands, you push the door open, and you are at once met with the sight of Daemon. His hair is unkempt and he is clad in only a loose white poet shirt, and dark trousers.

Words fail you, and you drink in the sight of him, as if it was the first time.

He rasps, holding your gaze, “I’m done waiting.”

“Daemon.”

He lunges forward, flooding all of your senses, gripping your face tightly in his hands and smashing his lips to yours. It’s different this time. More heated, passionate, greedy. He kicks the door shut with his foot, and he leads you deeper into the room.

“Daemon, what - ” you break away, in an attempt to catch your breath.

His forefinger flits across your lips, silencing you, “Hush, my shadow. I need this. I need you.”

You hum in agreement, and throw all caution to the wind. This is your Daemon. It has always been clear, he is the one you will always want.

Your hands roam, feeling his neck, his collarbone, and his chest exposed by the flowing shirt.

He stands captivated by you, and the gentle way in which you touch him. Your eyes filled with adoration. This is exactly what he needs. The storm might be raging outside, but right now, in this glowing candle lit room, he has his sunshine.

You had gone from being his shadow, to his light.

“I love you,” his voice is a mere whisper, and yet it electrifies your entire being, “I love you, my light.”

You look at him in a daze, and your vision becomes cloudy as a tear threatens to fall, and it does, when he kisses you again. He lifts you up on the table, and you wrap your legs around his waist. You lean backward, pulling him with you, making his pelvis press onto yours.

He groans, his frustration heightening even more when your hands roam under his shirt, gliding across the chiselled plains of his stomach, down to the line of his trousers.

He breaks the kiss, burying his face in your neck, “I want to… do this right.”

He straightens, kissing you once, before declaring, “I shall wed you first, my dearest love. Then, I shall have you.” His hand comes up to squeeze your breast, as if to make a promise, “All of you.”

Heat rushes to your face, and you can feel all this yearning prompting a knot to unravel low in your belly, “I must admit this is not what I expected of you, my prince. You were never one to exercise such restraint.”

“Be that as it may, my light, this is different. You are not like the others. Granted, I am not one to shy away from the pleasures of the flesh.” His fingers caress your ankles, before slithering gradually up your legs. He savours the softness of your flesh, squeezing your thighs, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You will soon find, my light, that fucking is a pleasure, and I especially want to show you how satisfying it can be,” his hands slide higher, and higher, “in every way possible.”

“Daemon,” you bite your lip, encouraging him, “my love.”

“Yes, my light?” he taunts.

“For fuck’s sake,” you curse impatiently, guiding your pelvis so that his fingers finally graze your undergarments.

“Impatient are we?” he shifts the cloth to one side, tracing one digit over your folds, “You are exquisite.”

“Mmm,” you tilt your head back, and brace yourself on the table, your hands struggling to keep yourself upright, “please, Daemon.”

Urged by your mewling, sensual music to his ears, he pushes one finger inside your warmth. He pumps it inside, outside, watching you all the while.

With his other hand, he undoes the delicate string on the front of your nightgown. The thin fabric haphazardly falls to your waist, revealing your torso to his hungry eyes.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pushing another finger inside you, picking up the pace. He then moves to plant a sloppy kiss on your lips, before trailing downward, licking and pecking his way until he reaches your breast. His tongue swirls freely on your nipple, and your hand comes up to brace itself onto his hair.  

“This is fucking torturous,” he nearly growls, once again kissing you. Daemon wants to lose himself in the sight of your unravelling, as you unabashedly fuck his fingers. He prays to the gods that he might learn to control his lust, his desire to just forego tradition and bury his cock deep inside your pussy threatening to take over him.

“Gods, Daemon, this is so much better than I imagined,” you pant, your lips turning up in a smirk.

“Is that so, my light? Have you touched yourself to the thought of me?”

When you nod, he purrs in your ear, his lips grazing the skin, “Have you dreamed about fucking me? As I have you?”

His thumb circles rapidly around your clit, while his two soaked digits relentlessly plunge into your pussy. “Y-yes, Daemon.” His movement grows ever so careless and wild, fingers curling inside you, eager to bring you to climax. Your eyes flutter closed, as your pelvis begins to feel tense, that familiar spasm gathering below.  

“Let go, my light,” he commands, “Release yourself onto me.”

Once more, you pull him by the neck, and taste him. When his tongue collides with yours, you let go, gushing down on his fingers. He feels your juices drip down to his palm, but he makes no move. He leans back, memorizing the sight of you. His shadow, his light, covered in a sheen of sweat, thin nightgown pooled by your waist. Your legs spread wide open for him, your cum still warm on his skin.  

He cleans his hand, first sucking some of your orgasm off his fingers, and wiping the rest on the back of his shirt. He leans forward, palms on either side of your thighs on the table.

“Daemon?” you breathe, eyes half-lidded from the aftermath, “What is it?”

“I love you.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Daemon’s arm is wrapped around you, as your head rests on his chest, listening to his faint heartbeat.

You found yourselves lying down on your bed, atop the silken sheets, after that delightful table incident, deciding to call it thus as you now fondly think back to it.

You had been sharing stories of mixed significance, ranging from what you had for breakfast to the culmination of the war in the Stepstones.

“I may have to go into battle,” he confesses, “sometime in the days to come.”

Worry floods you, knowing how reckless he can be when faced with the thrill of war. Violence is not something that deterred Daemon, let alone the pain of death. If anything, he seemed to welcome it, and it frightens you.

You do not want to ever lose him. It was true then, but now, your very being depends on it. With him gone, you are afraid that you would never be whole again.

“Must you go?” you whisper.

“You need not worry, my light,” he kisses the top of your head lovingly, “I will always return to you.”

“But must you go? Is it necessary that you be there?” you prop yourself up on one elbow, so that he may see the sincerity in your expression.

“No,” he decides, “the war is all but won. There are just some loose ends to tie up, and the Velaryon army is more than capable of putting an end to it all. I had just half a mind to proffer aid from myself and a portion of the King’s army.”

“So let the King’s army go, and you can stay here with me.”

“My love?” he grins, “are you truly demanding that of me?”

“Just this once?” you plead, smiling at him, “I don’t wish to forbid you from ever stepping into battle. I just… I’ve only just had you. I prefer not to take any foolish risk, as little as it might be.”

A smile forms on his lips, as he relishes in knowing that you truly must care for him.

“As you wish,” he relents, “I shall stay.”

You kiss him, certain that you will never tire of the feeling of his lips flush against yours.

You look down at him with stars in your eyes, “I love you, Daemon.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

The members of the Small Council try to hide their surprise at the presence of Prince Daemon, already sitting comfortably at his chair, as they enter the room and each shuffle to their place around the table.

“My lords,” Daemon casually greets, “I had thought you all had forgotten about the council meeting.”

“Prince Daemon, I assure you that we are exactly on time,” Lord Beesbury responds, failing to understand the jest.

Viserys is the last to walk in, accompanied by his Kingsguard. He pauses upon seeing his brother, but quickly carries on to his seat at the head of the table.

“Brother,” Daemon says, amused, “do try not to look so amazed.”

“Daemon,” Viserys merely nods in acknowledgment, before turning to the rest of the council, “let us begin.”

The minutes seem to pass by at a snail’s pace, at least for Daemon. He unknowingly gazes out the window now and again, as if in a daydream, eliciting several scolding glares from his brother.

Taxes, festivities, tapestries, resources. All these concerns fly over his head, especially since it was only the night before last when he finally claimed you. Or more aptly put, when he surrendered himself over to you.

“Princess Rhaenyra is to embark on a tour to several neighbouring cities, as part of her duties as princess of the realm, and as my heir,” Viserys announces, before addressing your father, “She kindly wishes to have your daughter, the Lady Y/n, as her companion for this particular excursion.”

Daemon’s interest is restored at the sound of your name, and he straightens, eager to hear the rest. Little does he know, Viserys notices this slight movement, peering at him suspiciously out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh, what an honour that is, your Grace,” your father beams, “she will surely only be glad to accept the princess’ request. I shall relay the news to her when she returns from Storm’s End, in around a day or two.”

“Y/n is in Storm’s End?” Daemon speaks for the first time since the council discussions began, and all heads turn to him. There is an intimacy with which the prince mentions your name, a genuine curiosity with which he inquires about you, that drew everyone’s attention.

“Yes, my prince,” your father responds carefully, “she wanted to treat with Lord Cregan Stark, who has been visiting his sister Sara, the consort of Lord Baratheon’s eldest son.”

“How goes the courtship, my lord?” Tyland asks purposefully, knowing that it might turn Daemon irate, as he is already sulking in his seat, looking as if the wrong word might set him off.

“I’m afraid she plans to put an end to it,” your father finally says, regret perceptible in his voice, “as she has divulged to me that she might never see Lord Stark as more than a friend.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, my lord,” Viserys expresses genuinely, although he continues to closely watch Daemon’s reactions. His amusement grows at his younger brother’s inability to hide his emotions when it comes to you. First, intrigue at the mere mention of your name, then disappointment upon hearing that you are to see Cregan Stark, and finally the most obvious sense of relief regarding the end of your courtship.

A laugh threatens to escape Viserys. Being the elder brother that he is, he craves the pleasure of playfully taunting Daemon over his increasingly apparent affection for you.

“Nothing to be sorry about, dear brother,” Daemon speaks, breaking Viserys out of his thoughts.

“Oh?” Viserys turns to him in anticipation.

“My wish is to wed the Lady Y/n, as promptly as can be expected.” The entire council falls into silence, and Viserys finally lets out the dry laugh he has been holding back.

“M-my prince?” your father looks as if his heart would cease, and he certainly feels so, his chest significantly tightening at the prince’s declaration. Due to elation, or horror, he is yet to determine.

“Seven hells,” Otto exclaims, turning to Viserys, “won’t this be improper? The Lady Y/n has just ended a courtship with another lord, immediately to be wed to the prince?”

“I don’t suppose so,” Viserys easily counters, placing his hand atop his brother’s, “Daemon, I would hope that the lady is aware of your desire to be wed to her, and that you are not simply about to spring this upon the poor girl?”

“Of course she is,” Daemon confirms, his voice steady, “we are in love, if you cunts must know.” He could not help his less than tasteful remark, growing defensive about you.

“Gods be good,” Lord Beesbury balks at the prince’s crudeness.

“Alright,” Viserys raises a hand to appease the council, “Daemon, brother, I would be glad to see this come to fruition. Your marriage to the Lady Y/n would be exceedingly advantageous after all, for both our Houses.” He addresses your father, “I would assume that you believe so as well, my lord?”

Your father’s thoughts race, and with your best interests in mind, he speaks only to Daemon, “Do you truly love her, my prince?”

There is not a shred of doubt in Daemon’s voice when he answers, “More than anything.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

You sit in your usual spot in the gardens, accompanied by Hestia. A book rests on your lap, but you pay it no attention, your mind elsewhere.

Having just returned from Storm’s End, you feel at peace. You already knew that Cregan would accept your choice, but you did not wish to cause him any pain. It may have just been his natural charm, or a sense of ease with which he can hide his displeasure, but when you finally confided in him about Daemon, he was only quick to offer you a smile and pull you into his arms.

“Quite frankly, my lady, it only seemed a matter of time before Prince Daemon would break and accept that he needs you,” he said sincerely, his smile unwavering, “and I can recognize love when I see it, and it certainly exists between the two of you.”

Love. You shut your eyes, thinking of him, and savour the warmth of sunlight on your skin.

“My lady,” Hestia whispers, and your eyes slowly flutter open. You see her looking toward a figure in the distance.

“I think you have a shadow.”

🖤🖤🖤

The longest fuckin chapter I've ever written, gods be good. It did get a bit rushed towards the end. There was meant to be this whole scenario about Daemon heading into battle after hearing that the reader went to Winterfell instead to treat with Cregan Stark. Then I read how long it actually takes to travel from King's Landing to Winterfell and the timing just didn't fit with the events.

The parallels between Daemon and the reader were my favourite parts to write. They really are just two sides of the same coin.

Also, I did not expect myself to be writin' spicy content for this chapter, but I guess it just happened?? Oh well. 🤷‍♀️

I apologize this took aaaages to be put out. The amount of times I altered some parts I'm telling you, y'all would have just wrenched my laptop from me and I would not have blamed you 😂

My inbox was indeed flooded with demands for this chapter and I can only thank you all so much for wanting to read on!!! 🤍

taglist: @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @itscheybaby @my-dark-prince @keep-beating-my-dear-heart @mamamooqa @63angel @azucarmorennna @kate16sstuff @thoughtfulfreakalpaca @alexandra-001 @babywolff @gloryekaterina @writer-lee5 @lockleysgrl @alexa4040 @piceous21 @softtina @bregarc @ramennoodles212 @siriusdumblittlepuppy @captainweirdo42 @thx-rn @merovingianprincess @clarap23 @itisjustwhatitis @blushinyouth @aeisnoa @a-lil-bit-nuts @paprikaquinn @just-some-random-blogger @cantstoptherecs @baybieruth @wondergal2001 @pax-2735 @immyowndefender @moonmaiden1996 @wrendermeuseless @schniiipsel @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @icarusignite @flourishandblotts-inc @siriusdumblittlepuppy @booknerd2004 @just-a-harmless-patato @moni-cah @boofy1998 @huntycola @sanguinalia @thelastcitysposts @daeneeryss

#daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen imagine #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon #daemon targaryen #matt smith #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen smut

[steddieas-shegoes]

is that tax fraud?

for @corrodedcoffinfest warm-up round prompt ‘taxes’

rated t | 671 words | cw: language | tags: they’re just so stupid, and I love them, look Steve is here!

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

“What the hell do you mean you’ve never filed taxes?” Jeff asked Gareth as they sat around trying to write a song.

Keyword: trying.

Now it looked like they were gonna be figuring out how to keep Gareth out of fucking prison for tax fraud.

“I thought our band accountant handled it!” Gareth exclaimed.

“We don’t have a band accountant! The label just handles our money!” Jeff exclaimed back.

“Okay, let’s calm down.” Eddie, the voice of reason at this moment, held his hands up towards them. “Technically, Gareth only turned 18 two years ago. That’s only two years of back taxes. And if he’s honest, it’ll be fine! He probably didn’t even make enough the first year for them to care.”

“Well, I did get an inheritance from my grandpa who died,” Gareth said unhelpfully. “Does that count as income?”

Everyone stared at him in shock.

“This is a joke,” Freak said from his spot on the couch. “Has to be.”

“Oh my god, our drummer is actively committing tax fraud,” Jeff put his head in his hands.

“Guys, it’s fine! I’ll just file it all this year,” Gareth assured them.

“We should call someone. Right? Someone should be told about this,” Eddie started pacing the floor, wearing a trail into the shag carpet.

Who even put shag carpet in here? Shag was terrible.

The door swung open and Steve walked in holding three large pizzas and a grocery bag full of sodas.

“They didn’t have any Mountain Dew, but that’s probably for the best. You guys have a conference call in an hour so eat up,” he said as he started setting everything on the coffee table. He looked around when he realized it was way too quiet. “Everything okay?”

“Stevie. I fear our drummer may be going to prison.”

Steve paled. “What? Why?”

“He forgot to tell the government he has money. For two years.”

“He what?” Steve looked at Gareth to explain.

“I didn’t know I was supposed to file my own taxes! I thought we had a guy!”

Steve looked between all of them. He looked at Gareth.

“You do have a guy. The label provides a guy. I think his name is Sam? Maybe Shane.” Steve shook his head. “Either way. You have a tax guy. He filed for all of you last year.”

You could hear a pin drop in the silence.

“What do you mean? We all filed for ourselves last year. Except Gareth, apparently,” Jeff was frowning at the floor.

“Uh, well, you may have given double the money, then,” Steve laughed, though this wasn’t exactly funny.

“So let me get this straight: the label provided a guy to do our taxes without telling us. We all file our own taxes after this guy already did. No one caught it. Gareth’s the only one who hasn’t double paid into the fucking government?” Eddie asked, face red with shame or anger, it was hard to say which.

“Yeah, appears so.”

“Fuck you guys. Had me worried I was going to prison and I’m the only one who’s done shit right!” Gareth laughed. He reached for a slice of pizza and sat back in his chair, smug smile on his face. “Feels good to have my taxes paid.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Freak rolled his eyes. “So how do we get money back if we double filed?”

“Not sure we can,” Jeff sighed. “Probably isn’t worth figuring it out anyway. It’s not like we were rolling in for last year’s taxes.”

“But this year…” Eddie started.

They all looked at each other and nodded.

Yeah. This year would be different. They’d skyrocketed after the release of their first album and their first tour. Money was…pretty fucking great.

“So…pizza?” Steve asked.

They all nodded and started grabbing for their food.

“If you guys want, I’m sure Nancy can try to find a way to get money back. She’s good at that stuff,” Steve suggested.

“Nah, she’d call us idiots.”

“Well, if the shoe fits.”

“Hey!”

#corroded coffin #eddie munson #gareth emerson #jeff #freak #steve harrington #corrodedcoffinfest #drabble

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

Hope you’ve had a great day. It’s raining like crazy where I am and I have this little wolf plushie that’s reminds me of Jason so I had this thought. This would be a good headcannon or blurb but Jason grace x reader (you do daughter of Poseidon perfectly so please do that) where reader has a wolf plushie that she hugs when Jason isn’t around especially when it’s raining (you know cause she’s a forbidden kid and Zeus probably tried to use a storm to do her in once). Maybe Jason comes in because either Percy (being the overprotective brother he is) was worried about her being alone during it (y/n probably didn’t tell Jason so that he wouldn’t worry) or he just knows, and he finds her either trying to or already asleep with the plushie. So so sorry this is so long. Love you keep up the great work.

✮⋆˙ rain, rain, go away, don’t come back another day!; jason grace x daughter of poseidon! reader blurb

content: jason grace x daughter of poseidon! reader blurb warning: language and very brief mentions of murder at the end lmao author's note: i LOVED this prompt. so fun so cutesy. also, i feel the need to clarify, bc otherwise ill look dumb as fuck, the wolf's name is 'jason' backwards. and the pronunciation is completely from my brain, bc there needed to be something ig. kinda think 'no' 'sah' and then the 'j' acts like a 'j' would in 'raj'

the daughter of poseidon found comfort in a few things; the rain always felt like a warm hug from a parent, the crashing of waves upon a beach always managed to sooth her mind, the laughter of her friends working to ease the stress that grew in her bones.

thunderstorms, though, were not one of the things she found comfort in. even if they did remind her of her sweet boyfriend.

zeus was mad, for some reason that alluded most everyone at camp, so they had to suffer through some stupid thunderstorm. and every crack of thunder and flash of lightening had the girl curling up in her bed even more, her eyes nervously darting around and her wolf plush tightly squeezed to her chest. she wouldn't put it past the god to strike her down, even in the safety of her father's cabin. it didn't help that she, who he believed to a soiled and dirty greek girl, was dating her golden boy roman son. it gave him more motive and ocean's daughter watched enough criminal minds to know he had more than enough reasons to kill her. smite her into smithereens. to tear her atom from atom-

"i'll be back," percy murmured, interrupting her thoughts, maybe an hour into the storm. her eyes tracked him, swallowing thickly before jumping at another rolling of thunder.

"w-where you going?? it's not, exactly, um safe-"

"it is for me. i'm not dating his son," percy mused, trying to lighten the mood but his smile dropped as he saw the stress in your face deepen.

"well, i wouldn't say he's your biggest fan, either," you managed to get out without stuttering and percy rolled his eyes.

"fair. but ill be back," he repeated, vaguely before tugging a hoodie on and leaving the cabin. you said a silent prayer for his safety before yelping as a flash of lightening caught you off guard, leaving you huffing. you were a valiant warrior and the daughter of poseidon, gods damn it, you shouldn't be scared by some measly storm!

"can you come look after y/n?? the storm's scaring her shitless but she won't come get you because she thinks your dads gonna blast her into particles," percy asked as he shook jason away, the blonde boy groggily blinking his eyes and trying to understand his friends words

"huh?" jason asked, his hand jumping around on his night stand until he found his glasses and slid them on to his face, yawning as he took in a sopping wet percy.

"my sister, your girlfriend, is scared," percy restated, simply, and jason was already jumping out of bed, just barely finding time to grab a hoodie before running out of the cabin. percy rolled his eyes and went to follow before decided he'd rather not spend a night in his own cabin with his sister and her boyfriend...and jason's bed was inviting and unattended and probably would be for the rest of the night. i mean, i'd be downright wasteful if percy didn't sleep in cabin one.

"hon?" jason called as he walked into the poseidon cabin, closing the door behind him before walking towards your side of the cabin, "percy mentioned something about the storm and you-"

jason's words promptly stopped as he finally saw you, his strange girlfriend. you had built a tiny castle out of pillows, your shelter from the storm. you'd clearly stolen some from percy, two on either side of you and then one stacked before your head and one under it. weirdly enough, you had also laid a pillow over your feet as well. jason quietly laughed into his hand, his heard melting at the strange sight. but, you had somehow managed to fall asleep like this, the wolf plushy that you had lovingly named 'nosaj' (pronounced no-s-ah-j) tucked in your arms. jason took a mental picture, eager to remember this moment, before gently removing some of the pillows and replacing them with his body.

you reacted instantly and subconsciously, nosaj quickly abandoned in trade for jason. he smirked, proud to be chosen over a plushie as you wrapped your arms around his neck and threw your leg over his, cuddling into his form easily. jason wrapped his arms around your waist and comfortingly spread his hands wide over your lower back. you muttered something into his neck that sounded like 'i love you' but he wasn't completely sure. for all he knew, you could have said 'fuck you.' and he still couldn't have loved you more, even if you had. he pressed a kiss to your temple at whatever your words had been and he was met by the even lapping of your breath. he waited, watching for a few moments before he decided to speak.

"if my dad so much as thought about laying a hand on a single strand of your pretty hair, i'd tear olympus down and soak the place in his ichor. without a second thought, without hesitation. i'd electrocute the world if you asked me to."

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #all my love ౨ৎ #hoo #heroes of olympus x reader #jason grace #jason grace x you #jason grace x y/n #jason grace x reader

[lixiektty]

꒰ঌ cupid's cams : yang jeongin ໒꒱ — prev ▸ next

word count: 5.4k (i just kept writing i am so sorry), warnings/kinks: dom camboy!jeongin, sub!reader, language, lingerie, lubed up jeongin (holy shit), male maturation, oral (m. receiving), face fucking, praise, a little degradation and objectification, they're both hella oblivious of the other's feelings, jeongin's lowkey a perv, mentions of sex but don't fuck... yet, pls feel free to let me know if i missed anything!!

author's note: apologies for this being a little late, i promise i'm gonna figure out a good writing/posting schedule so i'm not leaving you all thirsty for more. i'm trying and working on a lot right now, trust! for now, enjoy cupid's cam and march madness starting next month!!!!

taglist: @hyynee, @enha-cafe, @xiaoderrrr, @lethallyprotected

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ cupid's cams masterlist

jeongin had intended to keep his real job a secret. after seeing you so helpless trying to find a well-paying job, he couldn't resist and felt like he really needed to help.

you guys sat on the couch, legs draped over his lap—not that he minded much anyways, he enjoyed the comfort. you were scrolling through your for you page, giggling and turning your phone every few scrolls to show jeongin the tiktoks you came across.

he loved your smile. it kind of ruined him that he started to feel a way about you this past year, you were his thoughts when streaming—wishing he were speaking to you, and when doing his more explicit streams he'd think of you as well. something he regretted, but honestly just couldn't stop doing. you were in his head constantly.

"y/n," he called.

you hum in response, but your eyes don't leave your phone. he taps your calf that finally gets your attention.

"put your phone down, i need to talk to you," jeongin says. he sounded serious, so you did as told and sat up straight and taking your legs off of him to sit criss-cross. "what's up?"

"i... fuck," he curses, not knowing how to even start, "i have a job that i think could really help you, but i need your trust."

"of course, you can trust me jeongin," you say, smiling his direction, "but, tell me now. you're freaking me the hell out."

jeongin chuckled and leaned forward a bit, "okay, okay. there's a site where you can stream for people and get paid for talking to them and do things they ask."

you nod slowly. you didn't know where this was about to go.

"it can... lead to other things, and those other things really bring in the cash," he announces, which catches your interest though, what other things? "i don't get all my cash from the cafe. i do these streams near a every other day basis."

your mind began to really think of any of the conclusions to the 'other things' jeongin was talking about, and your mind only went to one thing. "you're.."

"i jerk off for thousands to see and get paid," he interpreted before you could've even asked the same thing he had just said, "now you don't have to, but if you're looking for a good paycheck you can help me out with my upcoming stream and i'll split the tips."

"you want me to have sex with you... on camera?" you ask.

god just the thought of that. jeongin already had an amazing build, from everything you've seen, and to see him like that—bare for you. fuck. your stomach filled with slight flutters and it was hard to not shuffle a bit.

"not exactly," jeongin finally answered. this causing you to let out a sigh of relief, not only because being naked for everyone on the internet to see worried you a bit but you didn't know if you could fuck your best friend for the first time while everyone was watching either, "you don't have to be naked if you don't want to, something simple like sucking me off will do good. i'll get you a mask to cover your eyes."

it didn't sound too bad. it's money, a possible new job, jeongin, and a chance to really get closer to your best friend like you've thought about once before.

"okay," you let out, jeongin's head snapping your way with shock read on his face, "okay, i'll do it."

"seriously?" he asked.

"yeah, what could go wrong?" exactly.

jeongin nodded and fixed his posture, not sure how to move forward, "okay, cool. how about tomorrow? i like doing two or three streams a week and i've only done one."

tomorrow? so soon, too soon. things could change so quick within 24 hours. you weren't gonna lie— it began to freak you out a bit.

so when you were waiting in the hall, outside the door of jeongin's apartment the next day, you couldn't think straight. you stood there patiently but wondered what could be taking so long.

eventually, you heard the sound of the locks being turned, door opening and revealing the handsome face of your best friend. his smile shines, dimples clear as day. you knew you probably looked flustered, jeongin reading your expression oh so clearly.

"come on in, bestie," he says, moving to the side to give you enough room to walk in, "how you feeling?" jeongin asked after closing the door.

you couldn't express in words how much you were feeling. it was a mix of excitement, anxiety than ran through your veins, and... possible feelings? no. you had been in your head since you went home last night and couldn't stop letting your thoughts overwhelm you.

"i'm..." you start, trying to collect your thoughts but only being met with fear, "okay, honestly i'm freaking out."

jeongin farrowed his brows, walking over to the kitchen to grab you some water, "why so?" he asks.

"it's... a lot," you say.

"we don't have to, you still have time to back out... even though i brought you gifts~" he says in a singsong like tone, handing you a bottle of water with a sly smirk on his face as he walks into the hall towards his room.

you follow him hesitantly, stopping at the door when you saw a fancy bag from the boutique across town. did he really go all this way... for me?

"come, look," he said, motioning you over.

you could only wonder what else was in that bag besides the mask he promised you. it was bigger as if something else was in there, so what possibly could it be? you walked into his room, noticing the purple lights bouncing off the walls, large set up on the right side of his room.

"maybe seeing these will make you feel better," jeongin announces, waiting very patiently for you to look in the bag. he didn't care how much he spent on something, as long as it was for you.

you reach in with anticipation, feeling a box. you pull it out and take the ribbon of the bougee packaging. when you open it, an elegant, white, lacey mask sat in it.

"what do you think?" jeongin asked.

you looked up and smiled at him, "love it, thank you," you reply while pulling him into a hug, "why such a big bag for this small ass box though?" you ask once you're out of his embrace.

"look inside," he says.

you look at him questionably, sitting the box on the bed and reaching back inside only to find some more bundled up white lace. the fabric untwined the further it was taken from the bag.

lingere. he bought lingere.

"what's... this?" you ask. it was so obvious what it was, you knew this. but playing dumb was the only thing you could think of doing to really get this picture through your skull.

"wanna get paid somehow, don't you? how you work your mouth helps but showing at least a little something will get you a whole lot more," jeongin admits. he also just couldn't help himself when he saw it, matching your mask perfectly, knowing you'd look absolutely stunning.

when buying it, he could only think about fucking you in it— jerking off the minute he got into his car. he thanked you for suggesting tinted windows when he first got it. the thought of you was all he needed to get hard for the show, already uncomfortably hard in his pants while being in your presence.

"i'm only trusting you 'cause this is what you're good at... somehow," you said with a suspicious look on your face that made jeongin chuckle.

you examined the piece of lingerie, the lacy parts barely covering your boobs and stomach, small enough to fit you tight and show off your body just as jeongin wanted.

"now, if at any point you get uncomfortable or just not feeling it anymore, tap me three times okay?" jeongin asked, serious tone in his voice that caused your head to turn.

"okay," you nod.

"try it," he said, turning your body fully by your shoulder and moving closer until the gap between you two was almost closed.

jeongin brings your hand up to his chest, looking down at you and waiting for you to move. you were so caught in moment, the only you could do was look right back at him—sinking into his gaze. once you regain your consciousness, you lift your fingers one, two, three times to pat his chest gently.

"good," he says, smile playing along his face again, "now go get changed, 10 minutes 'til showtime."

he walks away from you, hand falling from his chest and causing you to miss the warmth of his body almost touching yours.

instead of standing there— like an idiot, you thought, you rush to the bathroom, stripping from your clothes entirely until you were left bare in his bathroom. he was right in the next room, you could tell him fuck the stream and beg for what you really wanted. he'd be freaked out though, he wouldn't want to fuck me.

the white fabric hugged your body, nipples so exposed you could see them hardening through. you didn't know what to think, you had never seen yourself like this... and maybe this would alter something within jeongin.

walking out with nothing but lingerie on with all goodies exposed, clothes in hand, it was almost embarrassing to you. jeongin's eyes met your figure the minute you walked back in, in a different set of clothing.

"woah, y/n you look... hot," he admits, scanning you from head to toe.

his gaze intimidated you a bit, sharp eyes looking at you hungrily.

"it's not too much?" you ask, walking closer towards him.

"it's more than i'd prefer," he shrugs, fingers grazing the strap on your shoulder.

you felt small standing in front of him, knees almost buckling under you, "what would you prefer me to wear instead?" you asked, shyly.

"nothing," jeongin replied, throwing his shirt off and smirking as he walked to his chair when he noticed your reaction to his insane structure that you were familiar with seeing before—now, seeing him like this sent a rush straight to your core.

you sat down on the bed, watching jeongin's focused face behind the monitor. he was in the middle of getting his stream set up, making sure to announce it on all his 2nd accounts.

"countdown is starting, you sure you're in all the way?" jeongin asked before the 15 second countdown ended.

"positive," you reassure, sending a thumbs up his way.

he smiles, nodding and sitting back while waiting for the stream to start. you couldn't think of anything else to look at but him, he was so admiring, charm basically shining right through him.

you hear a sound, signaling that the stream has started. jeongin greets them, thanking them for joining him tonight, "the strip goal is sent at 200 tonight, i know you guys could get there and... i have a surprise for you all later on in the show."

the surprise in question, being you. the more you thought about it the more you let yourself feel less stressed about it all, it was really just a paycheck. the only thing you worried about was how this would alter yours and jeongin's realationship. if it even would, you didn't know.

"for now just focus on me," jeongin says, his tone so seductive that your thighs squeeze shut.

jeongin leans over to grab a bottle, containing lube you assumed, pouring the liquid into his palm. he lubes his torso up as if he was apply lotion, both hands shiny and slick running down his body. he'd brush past his nipples every once in a while, groaning by instinct.

the tip jar sound went off, jeongin giggling when he reads a certain comment begging for him to pull his cock out already, "let's get to 200 and i'll show you what i know you guys want to see."

he communicated with his watchers so well, knew what to do to get the money, satisfy each viewer and himself all at once. really, in his mind, he was putting on this show for you. the colored lights shined off his body, illuminating him in such a way.

you really wanted to get up right now and say, "fuck it," forcing his pants down and stuffing your mouth. all your thoughts now were so lewd, especially compared to how you were thinking just seconds ago.

his hands slid down his torso gently, the sound of the lude being moved around clear to your ears. you felt almost as eager as his viewers, wanting him to hurry up and get on with it so you could see his cock that so desperately needed to be touched.

the sound of the tip jar went wild, jeongin turning it off due to the loud sound. he smirked seeing the overflowing tips he received, going way past his goal, "eager, are we?" he asked giggling, sex to my fucking ears, you thought.

jeongin stood up, and you knew once his pants were down you would no longer have to imagine what his pretty cock looks like. he slowly brought down his sweats, stopping when they were right under balls, tip red and leaking, veins protruding along the shaft.

your eyes were locked on his grip, fist full of his manhood, and with his face not being shown on the screen as he stood, he was looking at you as he slowly worked himself up. a soft groan left his pretty lips, eyes glued to your form, moving his fist up and down before sitting back down. he gets ahold of the lube again, applying one line against his shaft before putting the bottle down and once again fucking his fist.

you on the other hand, sat on the bed with an ache forming at the pit of your stomach. each movement forward would apply pressure to your clit, craving any type of friction whatsoever while this view was in front of you.

jeongin tried to pretend he wasn't as close as he really was, ready to cum the minute he laid eyes on you in the damn lingerie. the lewd sounds made by him caused you to clench your thighs tighter and tighter.

"ah— so fuckin' good," jeongin mumbled, eyes closed, adam's apple moving with each noise he let out. his pace in thrusts increased along with his beautiful moans that filled the atmosphere.

you couldn't help but grip at the bedsheets. you were so desperate at this point, it was fucking with your head. to have him fuck you relentlessly is all you could ever imagine now until it happened.

jeongin had never seemed the type to do something such as camming. you never thought about him sexually in the first place, he was always just too cute. even with all the girlfriends he's had, you couldn't imagine him actually fucking anybody.

this was a completely different side of jeongin that surprised you, in the best way possible. his free hand laid on his chest, nipple between his fingers— the veins in his hands were so damn noticable, his breath was speeding up, back arching, the way his bicep curved and moved with each friction that was made, the view was just too much you had to look away.

jeongin noticed, not happy with your response. he began making little 'mmhs' and 'ahhs' to grab your attention. you tried to ignore his doings, only pissing him off a bit more. your ears were hot, just as hot as your cheeks due to the embarrassment you were feeling at the moment.

"this cock's all for you," jeongin coos causing you to pull up your head, snapping it his direction. he was looking at the monitor but it felt like his words were meant for you. he turned his head, heavy lidded eyes looking at you and repeating, "all for you."

if he kept this up you were going to fall. hard. so hard that you didn't know if you'd be able to hide it for long. his hips rolled as he fucked his fist, moans only getting louder and higher with time.

"so fucking close," he whimpered.

your head spun like crazy. it was like he already had control over you when doing such little, not even touching you—yet you were a wet mess, freezing while sitting on this bed.

jeongin's brain was turning to mush, he knew soon he'd be able to cum in your mouth or at least on your face but for now, he'd have to wait for the sake of the stream—knowing he gains more when teases, and his followers knows he loves to tease.

"holy fuck—" jeongin arched his back off of his chair, edging himself before you could come on screen. his pretty lubed up cock fell against his stomach, the prettiest whimpers leaving his mouth, hands gripping onto the chair. who would've thought this is what your best friend was up to in his free time?

jeongin was busy catching his breath, looking over at you with a smirk. his attention was back to the chat, reading all their praises.

"i have a guest, for the first time ever. she's gonna help me out today," he announces, you took that as your cue and put on the eye mask.

your anxiety peeked once you were found on the screen. the chat exploded seeing you in the lingerie, body absolutely perfect to all the pervs watching. you wave slightly, too afraid to even say anything.

"don't be shy. they're nice," jeongin reassured.

you get on your knees, right beside the chair, "hi everyone," you say. everyone seemed to like you already.

jeongin seemed to notice your shaky voice though, and how your eyes looked everywhere but at him or the screen.

"this is her first time camming so she's a bit shy, but i know you'll do good angel," he says, petting your head softly and running his fingers through your hair.

jeongin turned until you were right between his legs, painfully hard cock before your eyes. all you could do was look up at jeongin and wait for his signal. his big hands create a makeshift ponytail. you were quick to grab ahold of his cock, sensitive to the touch and causing jeongin to gasp.

finally, you built up the courage to close your mouth around the head, slowly taking more of him in until your throat closed around him— gagging.

"careful angel, take your time," jeongin says, pulling your head up gently.

you two created a gentle rhythm, bobbing your head, every vein running along your tongue. it was really happening, your first time ever being intimate with your best friend and so many people were watching it happen. jeongin's pretty moans filled the room once again, sending more shocks throughout your body.

"they said you look so pretty with my cock in your mouth," jeongin comments, "does it make you feel better knowing they like you?" he asks.

you pull him out of your mouth and nod, giving him a soft smile, "yeah."

"good, you're doing so good." he praises. just another thing for you to imagine when thinking about fucking him.

you formed a ball of spit on your tongue before letting it drip onto his tip, a soft sigh leaving his mouth at the sight and feeling. your tongue laid flat against it, brushing along his slit every so often. jeongin could not take this anymore, he only wished he could fuck you right now and see how much of a mess you'd actually be.

the thought wouldn't leave his brain, to have you under him full of his cock, dumb and drooling, tears escaping your eyes. he'd do it if it wasn't for everyone watching and knowing what you agreed on beforehand. he just knew your cunt felt way better than how your mouth already felt.

you took him in so well, slowly but surely being able to take more of him without gagging. he was too big and he found it amusing seeing you struggle with a mouth full of dick.

"look at you," he says, corner of his lip curling up.

jeongin was already so god damn obsessed with you, your hot and wet mouth covering him and leaving him to imagine it was your pussy providing the pleasure to his cock instead.

"if only i was fucking you angel, god you have no idea how slutty and messy you'd look," jeongin groaned, chuckling slightly after.

his words effected you like no other, the lace covering you soaking more by the minute. the thought didn't leave your mind either, you just knew he'd be rough with you especially with the way he was handling your head right now— his dominance just escalating as you went on.

"fuck," jeongin cursed, along with some groans following. he couldn't resist when his hips began to buck up, tip hitting your throat with force.

you close your eyes, hands holding onto jeongin's thighs. at first, he thought you'd tap out but instead you allowed him to fuck your throat as fast and as hard as he wanted to. though, you felt a little ache in the back of your throat, you still somehow enjoyed how he was having his way with you.

your mask began to slip, ribbon loosening more with each forceful movement of jeongin's hand. he hadn't noticed since his head was thrown back and his eyes were closed. your hands were too busy gripping on his thighs for dear life to help yourself.

eventually he looked down, heart falling to his stomach when he saw your eyes slowly being exposed. he took his hands off and stopped all his actions to tighten the mask. he did it quick and with ease, anxious to continue mouthfucking you.

"pretty girl, you are doing so well," jeongin whispered, bending down to kiss your forehead then sat back, hand tangled in your hair once again.

his lips pressing against your forehead was something you wanted to feel everyday for the rest of your life, it was so comforting. hearing him say that you were doing a great job and give you a forehead kiss as a badge of honor really pulled at your heartstrings.

you whine around him, tears were daring to fall from your eyes and seep through the mask. this action sent vibrations to his cock, causing him to buck and whimper quietly. every time a simple curse or whimper fell from his lips it was impossible to not let out a muffled moan yourself, which only pushed jeongin further.

jeongin was losing it as he tried to contain himself. the urge to scream your name from the top of his lungs was killing him, his nickname for you being the only thing he was able to let out.

"fuck angel," he groans. his thrusts into your mouth began getting sloppy, the room was drowned in his beautiful noises.

at this point he had completly forgotten about the stream as he continued abusing your poor throat. he let out deep grunts, pulling your hair with an extremely tight grip to keep you in place.

"angel's just my pretty little fuck hole isn't she?" jeongin asked, knowing his question couldn't be answered by you but you both knew the answer to it.

it was so damn obvious, and you only wished he would continue to make you feel like just a mouth to fuck. you had felt some type of pride making him feel this way, already so fucked out from the feeling of your lips sucking him in.

"i'm so close, make me cum, make me cum angel," jeongin repeats, voice higher pitched as he grew closer to his high, "so good for me."

one of your hands fall from his thighs to cover his that sat in your hair. you could feel his skin covered in lube, no doubt parts of your hair were covered as well. you didn't care, you'd get as messy as you could if that meant jeongin was the cause.

you bobbed your head even with his dick partly down your throat. you did everything in your power to give him the best head he's ever got. jeongin was whining and loosing his grip on your hair. he twitched in your mouth, fucking up into it roughly, saying things that were incoherent.

jeongin's other hand rushed to grab yours that was still gripping onto his thigh. he held it tightly, face scrunching and basically drooling from the mouth at you being a spit stained mess.

"oh fuck!" he cried out, hips stutter up into your mouth, hot cum spill down your throat.

jeongin pulled up your head slowly, still cumming as he slid along your tongue. he tasted surprisingly better than anyone before, he sounded pretty too— his constant whimpers you wanted to hear more of each time he let one out. music to your ears.

you hummed in satisfaction, watching him ride out his high. he threw his head back against his head rest, eyes closed and looking so fucking hot. not like he wasn't already before, seeing him like this and knowing you were the cause of his fucked outness drove you insane.

you wanted to have him drilling inside you rapidly until you couldn't feel anything, numb to the touch. time could only tell, you weren't gonna give your hopes up. hoping this wouldn't be the last time you and jeongin would be doing something like this.

eventually, jeongin pulled your head all the way back until he fell from your mouth— waiting for you to swallow. your throat was so abused that swallowing caused you to wince.

the boy was breathing heavily, his grip falling from your hair. his body became less tense, stomach unclenching, beautiful body on display for everyone looking at him. honestly, you wish you had your phone to capture this exact moment, he was definitely one of the most gorgeous men you've met.

a smiled played along his face, eyes opening and looking down at you. he turned his head to the monitor, seeing all the tips that were given while he wasn't looking, so he could pay attention to you.

"thank you guys, i hope you enjoyed," jeongin says, breathlessly. he was rushing to get off the stream to be alone with you, thoughts of his after stream shower with you, bare wet body pressed against his.

god. he was in love. he already knew, but this just confirmed it fully and he wanted all his time in the world to be spent with you, spent kissing you, spent loving you, spent fucking you into bliss. he needed to fuck you tonight, it was driving him mad.

"i'll see you next week," he said, blowing a kiss and quickly ending the live.

he sat back once again with uneven breath, head dizzy and still trying come back to reality. he could even tell he was slurring his words slightly before he ended the live.

"oh my god, that was so good," jeongin says, panting and trying to regain his control.

you couldn't believe what had just happened, sitting back on your knees absolutely dumbfounded and taking your mask off gently. jeongin smiles at you, lifting his hips so he could pull up his pants. he sits up, turning everything that was on off and turning his attention back to you immediately.

"you did fucking amazing, come here," jeongin praised, leaning towards you and capturing your lips in a kiss.

it took you aback, considering not only was that your first kiss but he did it and could still taste himself on your tongue.

"made so much because of you, how did you like it?" he asked, wiping the tear that fell from the corner of your eye.

"it was.... not bad, actually," you said. doing this wouldn't be so bad if that meant you'd being doing it with your bestfriend.

"i told you. keep it up and i might just have to keep you around," jeongin says, which made your head spin at the fact he was actually considering that. he grabs a towel that's set aside and wipes his hands clean from lube, soon folding it and using the corner to clear up your face.

"we should shower and i'll get you a glass of salt water to gargle, wouldn't want you feeling gross in the morning," jeongin stood up, grabbing your arms to pull up your body.

his kindness was always part of his charm, no matter what he'd do anything to make sure you weren't hurt and had the support you needed. you were led to the bathroom where he sat you on the toilet and started a warm shower for you both. you knew this meant he was going to see you completely nude, not that the lingerie left much up to his imagination in the first place.

"come on baby, take this off," jeongin said softly, bending down to help, sliding it down your shoulders.

you couldn't catch feelings for him, no way. that would only mess things up, you thought. the two of you being bestfriends for so long and never once showing a bit of attraction for one another, what would a relationship do to that? what if things don't work out and it ruins your friendship after the fact.

"you okay?" jeongin asked, noticing the look of discomfort on your face.

you force a smile onto your face, nodding in response, "yeah, i'm fine. why do you ask?"

"you seem—i dunno, out of it," he says, he knew you better than anyone and if the stream was the reason for your discomfort he'd do what he could to make it up to you, "did that make you, yunno—"

"no, jeongin. i liked it," you reassure. his face lights up at your words, heart beating faster, especially when you said, "i did." making sure he heard correctly.

"well, okay then," jeongin stayed quiet until you both stepped foot into the shower, the warm water hitting your back.

the tension was so strong, you got weak in the knees from his touch— hands on your waist to push you until your hair soaked with water. jeongin found it difficult to not get hard again when you look like this, relaxed under the warm water that eased your muscles.

"feel good?" jeongin asked. you hum with eyes closed, looking more beautiful than ever, "turn around so i can wash your hair."

you do as told, turning your back towards him and waiting patiently to feel his hands in your hair once again. he strains the water from it, picking up the shampoo and squeezing it into his hands. his fingers ran along your scalp gently and massaging it as he goes.

everything about this felt so normal, to have him care for you like this really had you falling for him. you felt calm and comfortable as he washed your hair for you. with how rough he was being before with your head, the gentleness threw you for a loop. the dynamic was insanely attractive to you—gentleman on the streets, freak in the sheets.

he finishes and takes the shower head off to rinse the bubbles of, fingers once again massaging their way through. he watched the water run down the arch of your back—ass right there for him to just grab. jeongin really could hide how hard he was, he stood as far back as he could but still close enough to clean you up so you wouldn't suddenly be met with a surprise poking at you.

"jeongin?" you call out, softly.

he had thought he'd been caught but he answered you anyways before assuming, "yes?"

you turn, facing him again. looking up into his eyes made butterflies flutter in your stomach. he didn't know what you were going to say, but he waited until you spoke again.

"i... like you," you admit. you felt stupid admitting this after sucking his dick and seeing how good he was at his job that you were hoping would become yours as well, "like a lot. i would love to help you with your future streams, if you're looking for a partner."

"if it's you, then i'm okay with it. i like you too," he replies.

it had taken so long for him to actually say that, anxiety running through his body each time he tried to have a serious conversation about his feelings with you.

"you do?" you ask, surprised.

"for some time now, yeah." jeongin says. he didn't talk about you being his thoughts when jacking off, but he no longer needed to do that anymore. you were his.

you both smile brightly at each other, jeongin hand cupping your cheek, bodies closing the gap and kissing each other deeply. it only got more and more heated, jeongin had to pull away and control himself. he closes his eyes, feeling embarrassed from what was about to come out of his mouth, "god i want to fuck you so bad right now."

"looks like it," you joke, looking down to see his hard cock poking at your stomach then meeting his gaze again, "so what's stopping you?"

jeongin shook his head, wearing a grin before he pressed you up against the cold tile, "fuck, what am i going to do with you angel?"

#stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #skz smut #skz imagines #jeongin smut #jeongin imagines #yang jeongin smut #yang jeongin imagines #kpop smut #kpop imagines #smut #imagine #imagines

[persephonewritessometimes]

Aaron Hotchner x bau!reader

Where after months ( cuz shes new n young working there)they cant také anymore their attraction to each other.

Key sentences: Hotch: I’m old enough to be your father. R: Should I call you Daddy then?

Smut n fluff

Please

Author's Note: oooo thank you for this request anon!! thinking many thoughts, head very full

Summary: It's no secret that you have a thing for your boss - a man 25 years your senior. What happens when he reveals he has feelings for you too?

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x (AFAB) Reader

Word Count: 5108 (i got carried away hehe)

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!! UNDER 18? PLEASE KEEP SCROLLING! SMUT; DADDY KINK; SIR KINK; OVERSTIMULATION; MULTIPLE ORGASMS; UNPROTECTED P IN V (don't be like them y'all, stay safe); DOM!HOTCH, SUB!READER; READER IS HORNY; FINGERING; ORAL (F RECEIVING) reader gets distracted by Hotch's hands, pining, confession of feelings, reader blacks out from cumming really hard; Hotch calls reader "good girl, princess, baby"; Morgan is a cheeky bastard (as per usual)

This work is meant for readers aged 18 and over. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

“Y/N, you're staring, again," Morgan says with a chuckle and I quickly find somewhere else to look that isn't our section chief. Which I was definitely not having rated-R thoughts about.

"Shut up, Morgan," I mutter.

"Why don't you just tell him how you feel?" I turn and stare at him now, eyes wide in disbelief.

"Sure, why don't I just tell a much older man that every time I look at him, I feel weak in the knees and sweaty? That would really go over well." I say, sarcastically.

"We're getting tired of watching you eye-fuck him, Y/N." Emily sighs, jumping into the conversation.

"It's getting kind of pathetic at this point," Morgan adds and I smack him on the shoulder.

"You guys are being mean. Let me pine in peace."

"Y/N, none of us are at peace when you start acting like a dog in heat every time Hotch walks in the room. It's genuinely hard to watch." Morgan shoots back, grinning at me. I feel my cheeks grow hot at his brazen comment. "Just put us out of our misery and get laid for once, damn." I feel my cheeks growing even hotter.

"He - he doesn't like me like that." I'm tripping over my words, embarrassed that everyone can see what's clearly written by my body language when Hotch is around.

"Y/N, sweetie, you're smart, but sometimes you're an idiot," Emily says kindly. "He likes you."

"Trust us, we know," Morgan adds.

"How?" I say and cross my arms over my chest.

"Really? Okay. Whenever he's giving a briefing and you're standing next to him, his body gravitates towards yours, you're the first person he looks for in every room, Y/N, two weeks ago on that case in Charleston he almost throttled the officer that merely tried to flirt with you."

"Wait, that officer was flirting with me?" I've only been here a few months, so I haven't learned how to read people as well as him yet.

"Oh my god, she actually is an idiot." Morgan groans. "Yes! He always got you coffee refills without asking, offered you the first pick of the donuts, and gave you, and only you, a very thorough tour of the precinct. He was trying to impress you." He looks at me closely. "How the fuck did you get this job?" I shrug.

"Impeccable academic record?" I suggest timidly, and he snorts.

"Just pay attention to Hotch. More than you are already. You'll see."

"He's old enough to be my dad," I say.

"Why do I have the feeling that only fuels your fantasies?" Morgan mutters. "I'm done with this conversation. Either you tell him, Y/N, or I will."

"MORGAN!" He just throws his hands up in the air giving me an exasperated look. "Em? A little back up here?"

"As much as I hate to agree with Morgan, he has a point. It’s kind of hard to focus on work when we all know what’s going on except for you two. I mean this in the nicest way possible, but just say something, for the sake of everyone who has to be in a room with you guys. I could cut the tension between you two like a knife.” She gives me a small smile.

“I- I’m just nervous. What if you guys are wrong?” She places her hand over mine.

“We’re not wrong, Y/N. We even asked Reid to weigh in and he agrees with us. Just say something.” I frown and head back to my desk, needing to be alone with my thoughts for a while. I’m deep in a stack of paperwork when Hotch calls the team into a meeting. I sigh, set my pen aside, and make my way into the boardroom. I’m on high alert, due to Morgan’s comment, and as I step into the room, I glance at Hotch to find him already looking at me. He looks away quickly and I watch as the tips of his ears turn pink. Oh my god, they were right.

I’m hyper-aware of him the whole meeting, so much so that I barely heard a word he was saying.

“Y/N? Are you paying attention?” Hotch asks, looking at me.

“Uh, yes, sir.” I blurt out in a panic. I wasn’t expecting him to directly address me.

“YES SIR?” Morgan hollers. “That’s a new one.” Even Em is hiding a smile behind her hand. Hotch glares at him.

“Don’t tease her, Morgan. Y/N, please pay attention.”

“I will, sorry Hotch.” He just nods and goes back to what he was saying. I tried to pay attention I really did but I found myself watching his hands as he talked. He gestures at the screen, then to something in the paper he had given us, then puts his hand on his hip. His fingers are so thick I wonder if two would even fit inside of me. I’m thinking about him fingering me on his desk, pussy splayed and dripping for him, and I shift in my seat, feeling the wetness in my panties. Dammit, Y/N, don’t get carried away.

“Y/N, seriously,” Hotch sighs a few minutes later and I’m dragged from my dirty daydream. “I need you to pay attention or leave. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Morgan whispers with a grin. I glare at him.

“I’m trying to pay attention, I swear.”

“Are you sick? You look a bit warm, why don’t you step out for a few minutes.” I just nod, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. “And I want to see you in my office when we’re done with this meeting.” I nod again and feel my stomach drop to my ass in nervousness. I quickly walk out of the room and am pacing when the door opens up and Morgan walks out, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“What the hell were you thinking about in there?” He whispers, then pauses, “Actually, I’m not sure I want to know.”

“Just leave me alone, Morgan. I’m embarrassed enough already.” I say quietly.

“Oh, baby girl, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tease you too much. You’re just an easy target. If it helps any, Hotch was downright flushed after you left. He stumbled over his words. Twice. I’ve never seen him that flustered. It’s like he knew what you were thinking about.” He nudges me with his shoulder. “Don’t sweat it, okay?”

“You’re not the one who has to face him in his office,” I grumble.

“Well, just make sure you guys close the blinds.”

“MORGAN! Shut up!” He’s laughing as he walks away. JJ and Em shoot me sympathetic smiles as they walk by and Reid pats me on the shoulder. Hotch doesn’t say a word as he walks out of the boardroom, and I diligently follow him to his office.

“Take a seat.” He says, gesturing at the chair and my eyes follow his hand again. Y/N! Stop! That’s what got you in trouble in the first place! I quickly take a seat, clasping my hands in my lap. “Now do you want to tell me why you were so distracted today?” He asks, looking at me. I feel the heat creep up my chest and onto my cheeks.

“I-um-no. No, I don’t.” He raises an eyebrow at that.

“Really? Because Morgan seems to have an idea. Maybe I should go ask him what he thinks.”

“No!” I blurt out. “Sorry. It’s just…embarrassing.” He just looks at me and I sigh before whispering, “Your hands. I was distracted by your hands.”

“My…hands?” He says slowly.

“Yes, sir, I mean Hotch, sorry. I know it’s not appropriate and I apologize.”

“What is it about my hands?” He asks, his voice low and in a tone that makes my heartbeat travel down to my pussy. I shift in my seat, a movement that most likely does not go unnoticed by him. “Y/N. Look at me.” I take a shaky breath and look up at him, all rational thoughts leaving my head when I see that his cheeks are pink, and his pupils are so blown I can barely see the brown. “What is it. About my hands.” He enunciates every word.

“They’re big,” I whisper.

“And what does that make you think about?”

“Please don’t make me say it.”

“No, no I want to hear you say it.”

In the smallest voice possible I say, “I was wondering if your fingers would even fit in me.” I hear him take in a sharp breath. “What it would feel like to be spread out on your desk with - with your fingers inside of me.”

“Careful, Y/N, you’re walking a thin line.” He murmurs.

“Haven’t I crossed it already, sir?”

“I’m old enough to be your father.” He says, words clipped. I get a sudden burst of confidence and stare him down.

“Should I call you Daddy, then?” I ask sweetly. I watch as he tightens his jaw.

“Watch your mouth, little girl. You don’t want to see how mean Daddy can get.”

“And what if I want to find out, Daddy?” I watch as his nostrils flare and he takes a deep breath.

“That’s enough, Y/N.” He spits out and I still, and fear that I’m about to lose my job to ill-timed arousal. My breath hitches as he leans back in his chair, eyes carefully watching me. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“Whatever you’d like to, sir,” I say simply and I watch his jaw tick again.

“Listen to me very carefully. We are going to go downstairs, you are going to gather your things, and you are not going to say a single word. I’m going to tell everyone that you’re not feeling well enough to drive, so I’m taking you home.” I swallow hard, not believing that this is actually happening right now. “Do you understand?” I nod quickly. “I need to hear you say you understand. Or else this stops now, and we don’t speak of it again.”

“I understand completely, sir.”

“Good girl.” He says in a low voice and a whimper escapes me before I can shove it down. He stiffens. “Do you like that? Hearing that you’re a good girl?” My pussy clenches around nothing, begging to be filled.

“Yes, Daddy.” He hums, getting up quickly and my mouth goes dry when I see the tented fabric of his pants. He shrugs off his suit jacket and slings it over his forearm and in front of his body, effectively hiding his raging boner. He walks over to me, and I hastily get up from the chair, and he grabs my arm, gripping it just hard enough to keep me grounded and lucid despite the lust-filled thoughts in my head. He yanks open his office door and we make our way down the stairs. I keep my head down as we approach my desk, the bullpen so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

“Y/N isn’t feeling well. I’m driving her home.” Hotch says, letting go of my arm so I can grab my jacket and purse. I glance at him, nodding that I have everything, and he grabs my arm again, and we hastily walk towards the elevator.

“GO EASY ON HER, HOTCH!” Morgan shouts, and I hear Em laugh.

“Shut up, Morgan.” Hotch growls over his shoulder, and I glance back at Morgan, who mouths ‘Good luck’ at me. “Don’t look at him. The only person you should be looking at is me, princess.” We get in the elevator, and he pushes the button so hard I think that he’s going to break the damn thing.

“Jesus, what’s got you so riled up?” I say sweetly, not caring that I’d probably pay for that question later. I just want to see him snap, lose that carefully cultivated control and unleash himself on me. He turns on me in a second, caging my body between the wall of the elevator and the hard planes of his body. He grabs my chin, tilting my face up to look at him.

“Watch yourself. I’d hate for you to get into something you can’t handle.”

“I can take whatever you throw at me, sir.” He laughs.

“Yeah, right, princess. Keep talking a big game – we’ll see how far that gets you.”

“Well, it got me here, didn’t it?”

“Right where you wanted, I presume?” He asks, tilting his head and there’s nothing friendly in his eyes. I just nod, sucking in a breath when he pushes his body closer to mine and his hard-on is pressing into my thigh. “Before this goes further: green for go, yellow for slow down, red for hard stop, no questions asked. Do you understand?” I nod, and he raises his eyebrows.

“I understand!” I blurt out.

“Good.” He suddenly dips his head down, nose bumping into mine as we share the same breaths for a few seconds. “I’m going to ruin you.” He whispers onto my lips, not quite kissing me.

“Please. Ruin me, Daddy,” I whisper and he’s kissing me as soon as the last word is out of my mouth. It’s overwhelming, the way he kisses, stealing all the air from my lungs in a millisecond. I gasp when the hand from my chin drops to my chest, reaching into my dress shirt and under my tank top to tweak my right nipple. He takes that opportunity to slip his tongue into my mouth, tasting me. The elevator dings and his hand disappears from my shirt and his lips retreat. I whine at the sudden loss of contact, as we had just gone from 100 miles an hour to 0 miles an hour.

“I know, princess, I’m sorry. You don’t want Daddy to get caught, do you?” I shake my head vigorously and he chuckles, escorting me to his car, and opens the passenger door for me, ever the gentleman. He gets in and starts the car as I buckle my seatbelt. He backs out of the parking spot, placing one hand on the back of my headrest and I suck in a sharp breath. He glances at me. “Really? You’re turned on by my driving?”

“I can’t help it. I’m sorry.” I breathe out, not daring to look at him. My cheeks are warm, and I feel frazzled. I jump when his hand comes to rest on my thigh, dangerously close to where I want him. I shift my hips, trying to get him closer to where I need him. He smacks my thigh abruptly.

“Don’t do that. You can wait.” He says gruffly.

“I can’t. I can’t wait.” I gasp out. “Please. Please touch me. I need you. Please, sir, I’ll do anything.”

“I’ll oblige you, but only because you begged so prettily. I like it when you sound desperate. One rule though: no cumming without my permission.” His hand slips under my skirt and I thank god that this was one of the rare days I decided to wear one. His fingers ghost over my cunt, the lightest touch and my breathing is already starting to labor. When his fingers press my clit from outside my panties my hips buck into the air. “Someone’s responsive.” He says, more to himself than me. His fingers trail lower, and he groans when he feels the wet spot. “Already this wet for me, princess?”

“Only for you, Daddy.” I whimper when he pushes my panties to the side, hand now free to touch as he pleases. His fingers come up to tease my clit again before one deftly slips inside of me. I let out a choked sound, tight around him. Just one finger feels thick, and when he slips in another finger I keen, tightening again.

“Jesus, you’re tight.” He curls his fingers and hits that spot inside of me that I struggle to hit by myself. I gasp, hand closing around his wrist, and I don’t know if I’m trying to stop him or egg him on. He continues to work his fingers in me as he drives and I’m not sure how he’s managing to stay on the road. I know I should reciprocate but the feeling of his fingers plunging in and out of me has made every thought I’ve ever had flee my brain. After a few minutes, my thighs start to shake and I’m panting, so close to a mind-blowing orgasm that I forget he told me I can’t cum without his permission. His fingers slip out of me seconds before I hit my peak.

“NO!” I shout, shaking in the passenger seat, sitting in a small puddle of my own arousal. I hope it stains his impeccable leather seats.

“Only good girls get to cum, and you haven’t been a good girl today, baby,” He says, “Open.” I open my mouth and he slips the fingers he just had inside of me into my awaiting mouth. I suck his fingers off earnestly, just like I would to his cock if he gave me the chance. He pulls his fingers out with a pop and I realize he’s parked the car in his garage. Is this really happening? I think to myself. “Color?” He asks me, turning my face so I can look into his eyes. I could get lost in his eyes.

“Green,” I say quickly.

“Good girl,” He whispers and meets my mouth in a messy kiss full of tongue, need, and teeth.

I don’t know how we made it inside, but as soon as I cross through the doorway, Hotch throws me over his shoulder, and I shriek. He carries me to the bedroom, dropping me on the bed. I’m paralyzed as I watch him rip his tie off, dress shirt following soon after. He’s beautiful, and I want to run my hands all over him and feel every scar. My eyes are tracing his chest and ever the profiler, he notices.

“You can touch. It’s okay.” He walks over to me, planting himself between my legs. I timidly touch his stomach, trailing my hands up his abdomen, running my fingers along his scars in quiet admiration. He suddenly takes my hand, kissing it, a break in the dominant façade. I give him a soft smile, one that has always been reserved for him, and his breath hitches in his chest. His hands cup my face, looking into my eyes, and I’ve never felt safer than I have at this moment. I close my eyes, leaning into his touch, my hands resting on his wrists. It feels like we’re the only people in the world, two souls destined to collide. His next kiss is gentle as if he doesn’t want to ruin the moment, but he tosses his resolve out the window when I bite his bottom lip. He growls, pushing me onto my back and stepping out of his pants and boxers. I push myself up on my elbows to watch him and gasp when he’s revealed to me completely. He’s big. Bigger than I’ve had before. I knew it would be big because of his damn hands. “You’re far too dressed for my liking.” He mutters, and the next moment he actually rips my shirt off of me, buttons flying everywhere.

“HOTCH!” He stops, looking at me.

“Try again, sweetheart.”

“Sorry. Daddy.”

“Much better. And Daddy will buy you a new one, okay?” I nod, suddenly unable to think as he slides off my tank top and unclasps my bra. My nipples are aching to be touched and as if he can read my mind, his head dips down to take my left nipple in his mouth. I suck in a breath, my hand coming to rest on the back of his head. His tongue laves over my nipple, and I swear I see God for a moment. He moves to the other side and my cunt is begging for attention. He slides my skirt and panties off without once leaving my chest. And when I’m naked before him, he kisses his way up my throat, leaving hickeys that will definitely be hard to hide.

“Daddy, people will see.”

“And? They should know whom you belong to.” He says plainly, he leans back, admiring my form and my hips jump up on their own accord, grazing his weeping tip in the process.

“Fuck, princess, don’t do that.”

“Please, please, please, Daddy, I need you so bad.”

“Daddy has to make sure you’re ready for him. I don’t know if my fat cock will fit in your tight little pussy.” I whimper at his words, more turned on than I’ve ever been in my entire life. He slides down my body, pressing kisses into my skin as he goes until he gets on his knees, dragging me towards the edge of the bed. He slings both of my legs over his shoulder, pressing a chaste kiss into my thigh. “Your pussy is dripping for me, princess. Can I taste it?”

“Please,” I manage to whisper, and I watch as his head dips down and he licks up my pussy. He groans against my clit when he tastes me, and I shout in surprise at the added stimulation. He chuckles against me and goes to work, tongue thrusting shallowly in me before coming up to tease my clit. He’s getting me closer to the edge and when I feel two of his fingers slide into me easily, I sigh contentedly. He finds the spongy spot inside of me with ease, hitting it every time he thrusts his fingers into me. I’m hurtling towards my peak when I gasp out, “Daddy, please, I’m close, can I cum? Please? I’ll be a good girl, I promise. Your good girl.” His eyes flick up and he watches me, never stopping, and watches as my abdomen tenses and I start to clench around his fingers, panting. He pulls his mouth away from me just long enough to whisper,

“You can let go, princess.” And resumes his torturous pace on me. My hand shoots down to grip his hair and a few seconds later my orgasm rips through me. I shout loudly, hips moving with abandon against his face, and he doesn’t let up, continuing to lick and finger me through it until I’m twitching with overstimulation.

“Daddy, please, too much.”

“You wanted to cum, princess, so you’re going to cum until I’m done.” He growls and goes back to eating me out. I had no time to come down from my first orgasm and my body is already sprinting full speed ahead toward my second. My thighs clench around his face but it doesn’t stop him. He stills his fingers inside me and simply presses them into my G-spot, never letting up, just putting constant pressure on it.

I’m babbling at this point, nothing coherent coming from my lips except for ‘daddy’ and ‘please’. My orgasm blindsides me and I clench hard around his fingers and scream, not caring if anyone can hear me. My vision goes spotty as I continue to cum until he finally slips his fingers out and I feel like I can breathe again. I’m gasping for air as his touch trails along my hips.

“Still with me, pretty girl?” I nod still gasping. “Color?”

“Green, green, green.” I pant out quickly and he chuckles. He gives me a few more seconds to come down, tracing gentle patterns into my sides and he kisses me once my breathing slows. I pull away to bite my way down his neck, leaving my own marks on him. “Daddy, need you inside me, please.”

“Are you sure you’re ready for me, princess?”

“Yes! Yes! So ready! Please just fuck me!”

“Okay, let me grab a condom.”

“No!” I shout, grabbing his shoulders. “I’m clean. Please, I want to feel you. Just you.”

“You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?” He says, kissing the tip of my nose. I watch as he pumps himself a few times and lines up with my entrance. He pushes in, just barely, and stays there until I’m begging him to push the rest of the way in.

“Please, Daddy, I want to feel full. I feel so empty.” He sheathes himself in me in one quick motion and I gasp. “Thank you, Daddy,” I whisper onto his lips.

“Fucking hell, Y/N, you’re so goddamn tight.” He’s still above me, and I can see his shoulders shaking in restraint. “You feel like heaven.”

“Please move, please. Let go, I can take it.” I whisper, peering into his eyes and he pulls out a little bit to thrust shallowly. He swallows my moan with his lips, kissing me with the fervor of a man starved. He starts off at a slow pace and despite being sensitive from my previous two orgasms, I need more. I dig my nails into his shoulder. “Please, for the love of God, fuck me. Hard. Please. I can take it. All of it.” He looks at me hard, searching for any hesitation, but his dick is literally inside of me, so there’s no hesitation on my part. I nod up at him and he leans down to kiss me as he starts to set a brutal pace. His hips are slamming against mine and when I shift my hips up to meet his thrusts he hits my G-spot with every thrust. “SHIT!” I shout, the words quickly turning into a loud moan as his thumb comes down to flick at my clit. I’m shaking with arousal, and I can feel his balls slap against my ass with how hard he’s fucking me.

“Come on, pretty girl, I know you’ve got one more in you. Give it to Daddy. I want to feel you cum around my cock.” There are no thoughts in my head anymore, everything in me has zeroed in on the feeling of him literally fucking me into the mattress. “You look so pretty fucked out like this, bet you can’t think of anything but my cock inside of you, huh?” I nod and he laughs, kissing me hard. He leans back just enough to change the angle by shifting my calf onto his shoulder. He thrusts, hard, and I whimper. “You make such pretty sounds when I’m fucking you.” He picks up the pace again, moving his thumb on my clit in tight circles. I let out a broken moan as he hits just the right spot inside of me, and he takes note of it, hitting the same spot repeatedly, thumb keeping its pace on my clit. It’s overwhelming and I know that this orgasm is going to ruin other men for me. No one can do it like him. “Y/N,” his voice is low, “Look at me, baby, I want to watch you fall apart.” I drag my eyes open and look at him with dazed eyes. One particularly hard thrust and a drag of his thumb over my clit and I’m cumming violently, thrashing against him and gripping the bed sheets, my body spasming and I feel him fuck me through it and spill inside of me with a shouted curse before I black out.

I come to and can feel a warm washcloth being dragged between my legs gingerly. I hiss at the contact.

“Oh, thank god, are you okay?” I nod, throat raspy from screaming. “Can I get you anything?” I shake my head no, and the warm washcloth returns, I jump at the sensation. “I know, I have to clean you up though, okay?” He finishes in the next couple of moments and throws the washcloth into the hamper.

“How long was I out?” I say softly.

“Five minutes? Maybe six.” I nod.

“Sorry.”

“Sorry? Y/N, that was the biggest ego boost I’ve had in years.” He chuckles and I let out a weak laugh.

“Help me up?” I whisper, holding my hands out toward him. He obliges, gently grabbing my hands and pulling me into a sitting position. My vision starts to go spotty again. “Oh, Jesus,” I say, starting to slump forwards. His arms wrap around me quickly, holding me against his chest until my vision starts to return to normal. His thumbs are rubbing my back and I wish I could stay in this moment forever. “I’m okay, I think,” I whisper after a minute and try to pull away but he only lets me get a few inches away, eyes worriedly searching my face. “Hotch, I’m fine. I swear. Now let me go so I can go pee.” He lets go of me slowly and when I stand up to walk toward the bathroom, my legs buckle underneath me. “Oh, come on!” I exclaim, but Hotch is right there to catch me. He scoops me up despite my protests and carries me bridal style to the bathroom, setting me down on the toilet. “Thank you,” I whisper, suddenly embarrassed.

“No, don’t do that. I can see you trying to hide, getting embarrassed.”

“Am I that obvious?”

“Yeah, when your guard is down, you’re easy to read.”

“So, uh, do we just pretend this never happened? Go back to the way things were. I assume that’s what you want?” I bury my face in my hands, unable to look at him.

“Go back to the way things were? Y/N, baby, no. I can’t go back. This was not a one-time thing. I’m yours if you’ll have me.” I peek at him from between my fingers.

“Wait, you’re being serious right now?”

“Dead serious.” He gets on his knees in front of me. “I’ve wanted you from the first moment you walked into my office. I just didn’t think you’d reciprocate, until Morgan made a comment two months ago about your body language, and that’s when I had the hunch you felt the same way.”

“So, you’ve known I’ve been pining over you for months and didn’t think to say anything?” My pitch gets higher as the sentence goes on.

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Yes, I’m clearly uncomfortable with you as I’m sitting in front of you, naked,” I say drily and he laughs again.

“Yeah, I know, I’m an idiot.”

“Yes, you are,” I say, smiling, before adding, “But you’re my idiot.” His eyes brighten at that.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. As you said, I’m yours if you’ll have me.”

“Good. Because I’m never letting go of you.” I feel my cheeks grow warm.

“Good, because I don’t want you to.”

#hotch x y/n #hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch #hotch x reader #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #hotch smut

[forever-rogue]

if that rb was asking for requests…. kisses that start out passionate but grows more delicate + brushing lips together, lingering for a moment, catching your breath, with eddie? love your writing So much you never miss 💗

AN | Friends to lovers! Pining! Misunderstandings! It’s all here 🥺🥰

Warnings | Mild Language 

Pairing | Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 3k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You’re drooling,” you jumped at the sound of Steve’s voice, almost dropping the hot chocolate you were currently sipping on. You turned and offered him a very pathetic little glare that only caused him to laugh.

“I was not drooling,” you insisted haughtily, “I was looking at the books on that top shelf.”

“I didn’t know Eddie was a book,” fuck. You were so screwed - Steve had caught you red-handed and he would never let you live it down. He might have been your best friend, but he certainly wasn’t afraid to give you a hard time, “it seems like you’re super into reading these days.”

“Steve,” you looked at him with the best puppy dog eyes you could muster up, “please don’t say anything. If you love me, you’ll let it go.”

“Fine,” he sighed dramatically as he bit into his chocolate croissant. Crumbs flaked all over his sweater, which you instinctively brushed away. What you didn’t know was that that happened to be the precise moment Eddie looked over at the two of you. A deep frown settled on his pretty features, “you should just tell him, you know?”

“Tell him what exactly?” you grabbed a napkin and wiped at the corners of his mouth. He made a small sound of content as he swallowed his bite.

“That you’re in love with him!”

“Shut up, Steve!” you hissed, looking around to make sure no one had heard him, clamping your hand over his mouth. Thankfully, no one so much as looked in your direction. You let out a small sigh of relief, “I’m not in love with him! Maybe like..o-or something like that.”

“As if,” he pulled your hand away and raised an eyebrow, “you’re in love with him, he’s in love with you. So…why not finally make a move?”

“Because you’re wrong,” you exhaled deeply before hanging your head. If only what Steve had said was true. It would have made everything so much better, “he’s not…no. He’s just my friend, just like you. And that’s all that either of you will ever be.”

“Excuse me,” Steve scoffed, “I am your best friend. Get it right.”

“The bestest of all time,” you promised softly, reaching up and gently touching his face, “don’t know what I’d do without you, Steve.”

“Suffer,” he teased, but you knew that he was probably right, “luckily you’ll never have to find out.”

“Good,” you let him wrap you up in a tight hug, relaxing into his touch. Besides being a fool, Steve always knew what to say, he was just kind and golden-hearted in that way. But…he might have had a bit of an ulterior motive to his hug. Unlike your obliviousness, he was fully aware of the fact that Eddie had been watching the two of you like a hawk. 

If he couldn’t get you to confess your feelings, maybe he could get Eddie to. If Eddie was jealous enough of Steve, surely he would be pushed into saying something. Right? Right. Steve happened to be a naturally affectionate person, so it wasn’t unusual for the two of you to be touchy-feely. He was just going to ramp it for as long as it took.

Steve Harrington had a plan.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Movie night this week was at Steve’s house. How perfect…and totally planned. Not just by Steve this time, but naturally Robin had to put in her two cents and the chaos duo that they were came up with a grand idea.

You were in the kitchen, getting snacks when Steve came in and joined you. The kitchen was open to the living room and you could see everyone starting to get comfortable for whatever movie Nancy and Jonathan had picked out. Mostly, your eyes were glued to Eddie, watching as the pretty boy talked to Dustin. He'd caught your eye a few times and exchanged soft smiles with you, but you just couldn't bring yourself to go over to him.

"Hey babe," Steve was being a little loud, louder than he normally was, but you just chalked it up to the fact that the house was buzzing with the whole gang, "what'cha getting for snacks?"

"The classics," you stated as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. Steve stood behind you and wrapped an arm around your midsection, resting his chin on your shoulder. You warmed up to him, both of you fans of physical touch and leaned into his touch, "popcorn, chips - two different kinds since the kids are picky, pizza has been ordered, and there's plenty of sodas!"

"You're the best," Steve whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. He looked into the living room quickly to make sure Eddie was looking over. Thanks to Robin's little idea of sitting across from him and chatting so he'd be forced to look your way. Steve turned his head and hid his face, trying not to laugh out loud, "the absolute best."

Everyone made it through the first movie without issue, save for Max falling asleep for a little bit, head resting on Lucas’ shoulder. They were too cute for their own good sometimes. But a bathroom and refuel of snacks break was called and you decided to go to the backyard to get some fresh air for a few minutes. It was pretty outside, the stars were out and the moon was full, and everything felt so calm and tranquil, which was a far cry from what you normally experienced; naturally you had to take advantage.

You heard the sliding glass door open and expected it to be Steve or Robin, but ended up locking eyes with Eddie. Your breath hitched in your throat as you smiled softly…unfortunately he didn’t return the smile, only offering you a stiff nod. You walked over to him, instinctively reaching for his arm and out a hand on his strong bicep.

“Hey,” your heart was beating nervously as you looked at him, soft eyed and honeyed smiled, “everything alright?”

“Yeah,” he insisted, relieved (and disappointed) at the loss of your touch on his arm. Your expression faltered, not quite sure why he seemed so distant with you. He’d been distant lately, you realized. How very strange, “‘s alright.”

“Eddie,” did you have to sound so sweet and innocent when you said his name like that? It made him want to melt into a puddle at your feet, “are we okay? I feel like you’ve been..off lately. Did I do something?”

His big brown eyes widened as he looked at you in disbelief. You had no clue - no clue that he was desperately in love with you. So much that it made his heart ache every time he saw you and Steve together. Either you were a great actress, or you were really so blind. You must have - you were dating Steve after all. A thought that never ceased to grind his gears. He shook his head and tried to play it off, “no, sweetheart, you didn’t. I’ve just been…busy.”

“Busy,” you repeated softly and he just nodded, avoiding your eyes, “oh.”

You sounded so heartbroken at his obvious lie - you were. He looked at you and shrugged lightly, giving you a small, but apologetic look, “sorry.”

What exactly was he sorry for? Sorry for being in love with you while you dated his friend? Sorry for being lovesick and heartbroken over you? Sorry for being scared and running away from you? Realistically it was all of the above. 

“Okay,” your lips formed into a pretty, plump pout. Eddie wanted nothing more than to kiss it away, to kiss you until it was all better, to kiss you until you realized that you were it for him. You rocked back and forth on your heels for a moment before gently pushing past him, “I’ll see you around, I guess.”

“Wait, sweetheart - “ but you were already gone and back inside, closing the door behind you. You hadn’t waited for him to say anything else, already feeling the tears stinging at the back of your eyes. You didn’t want him to see you cry, so you opted to run away and let the tears roll down your cheeks in peace. Eddie groaned at him, scrubbing a hand over his tired over, “fuck.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It had been just about a week since the fiasco at movie night. Not that anyone besides you and Eddie were privy to that piece of information. The two of you had avoided each other like the plague since, neither of you ready to fully discuss what had happened. 

This particular night found the lot of you at the county fair, ready to indulge in overpriced and overly fried food, games, and rides. Plus the baby animals, that part was always one of your favorites. The younger kids had split off, promising to meet up at the front when it was time to leave. 

That left Nancy and Jonathan, with the couple wandering off on their own, and you, Steve, Robin, and Eddie. Of course. But - the little chaos duo had another plan up their sleeves. 

Robin tugged on Eddie’s sleeve and motioned with her head in the direction of the food area, “ready to try every single disgustingly fried thing?”

“Duh,” Eddie didn’t hesitate to high five her and trail after her, turning around to give you and Steve a small wave. The fact that he saw Steve’s arm around your shoulders made him scowl; it was so painfully obvious. Mission accomplished.

“Hey,” you turned to the boy and reached for his hand, “can we go and look at the baby animals first? I don’t wanna go too late in case they need to sleep!”

“I…” the look he gave you was nothing but fond affection. He took your hand and laced your fingers together, nothing new or foreign to either of you, “I would love to.”

You made a small sound of delight before pulling him along with you. The cherry on top was that you opted to take the quickest and most direct route to the stables, which just happened to be right through the food stalls. This moment was practically writing itself at this point. 

Robin could barely hide her glee when spotted the two of you, making sure to move around Eddie so he would see the two of you. And did he ever - he was practically glaring daggers at Steve. 

“She looks pretty tonight,” Robin commented innocently as she looked after you, “her dress is cute.”

“Mhmm,” he agreed through gritted teeth, “sure does.”

“Yeah,” Robin sighed wistfully, “she’s got great style, and she’s pretty. But also so smart and kind like…that’s dream girl status.”

“I guess,” yes, he wanted to scream, yes. You were his dream girl; you had been since the day he’d met you. He’d just been too much of a wimp to make a move and lost to you King Steve. He wanted to punch himself at the idea. 

“Well,” she looped her arm through his, “maybe one day, she’ll meet her dream man.”

“Too bad she’s already met him,” Eddie couldn’t help it. He wanted to pout and be sad, and he figured if anyone understood, it would be Robin. She looked up at him and raised her eyebrows, internally screaming at the fact that their plan was finally coming to fruition, “his hair’s stupid.”

“What are you talking about, Eddie?” she asked softly, doing her very best to keep an innocent look on her face. So much for having no acting skills, she thought, take that Steve. 

“Steve,” he sighed in exasperation, trying to cut some of the bitterness out of his voice, “she’s dating Steve! She’s in love with him. Her dream man.”

“Eddie,” oh yes. It was all coming together, “she’s not dating Steve. They’re best friends. They’ve known each other since they were like five-years-old - they’re more brother and sister than anything.”

“What?” Eddie’s eyes almost bugged out of the sockets as he tried to wrap his mind around what Robin had said. Surely…there was no way. No way that Eddie Munson might actually have a chance with you, “but they’re so…touchy?”

“That’s just how they are,” she shrugged as she moved up in line and placed their order while the boy seemed to malfunction, “they’re affectionate people. All touchy-feely. But trust me, Steve Harrington is not her dream man.”

“So…” Eddie held his face in his hands, heart beating wildly, “where did they go?”

“Knowing her, probably to see the baby animals,” Robin shrugged, trying to contain her excitement. Eddie nodded before turning on his heel.

“I gotta go!” and he was off and running after you without anymore. Robin sighed in content as she grabbed the plate of food and made her way over to an empty table to wait for Steve. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It wasn’t but a few minutes before he joined her, looking giddy as ever. The two of them high-fived, “I saw Eddie coming so I just kinda ditched her. I’m sure the rest will work itself out. Operation Lovestruck is a success!”

You hadn’t even noticed that Steve had left your side, enthralled by the little lambs and sheep. They were all clambering for your attention, which you eagerly gave them, crouching down and petting their soft fur. It wasn’t until a shadow loomed over you that you realized you hadn’t been paying attention.

“Steve-” you stood up but found yourself face to face with Eddie. His face was a mix of excitement and nerves as he smiled softly at you, “oh. H-hey Eddie.”

“Hey,” his voice was too soft for his own good, “can we talk?”

“Yeah,” your worst fears started swirling around your mind. He was going to end his friendship with you. He was going to call out for being a creep over him. He was going to tell you that he despised you. It had to be something bad, right?

You followed him out of the stables and to the back, where it was more quiet and secluded. He stopped and turned to you, soft brown eyes studying you intently; no one had ever looked at you like that before. Your stomach was practically bursting with butterflies as you tried to find something, anything, to say. You were left speechless as you looked back at the pretty boy.

It happened before you knew it. Eddie’s warm, gentle hands cradled your face as he leaned in and kissed you. You accepted his kiss, eagerly and happily, closing your eyes and leaning into him, wrapping your fingers delicately around his wrists. He was kissing you like it was the last thing he would ever do, like it was the only he ever wanted to do. You melted like putty in his touch, letting him kiss you dizzy.

You parted for just a moment to catch your breath, exchanging shy smiles before he pressed his forehead yours. But you wanted more; now that you had a taste you never wanted to let go. You captured his soft lips with yours, kissing him gently and softly, in no particular rush but wanting the intimacy of closeness with him.

“I really like you,” he whispered after a few moments of blissful silence in which you exchanged a few more soft kisses.

“I kinda figured,” you teased, “after the whole you know, kissing me thing.”

“I thought you were dating Harrington,” he confessed and you looked at him in confusion before breaking into a fit of giggles. A pretty blush colored his cheeks, “don’t laugh! It’s not that far of a stretch.”

“Steve? Eww,” you laughed and that helped him to relax, “he’s like my brother, I’d never…no.”

“Fuck,” he breathed out in relief as he reached up to touch your face, his thumb gently brushing over the apple of your cheek, “if I knew that I would said something a lot sooner. I just-”

You cut him off by kissing him again, catching him by surprise as he gasped lightly before kissing you back. You really liked kissing him, “you know, the funny thing is Steve kept pushing me to tell you how I feel.”

“How do you feel?”

“I really like you,” you echoed his words and brought the biggest smile to his face. He could get used to hearing that, “do you wanna go and look at the baby animals with me and then stuff our faces with fried food?”

“On one condition.”

“Name it.”

“I get to kiss you more,” there was a cheeky little grin on his face as you pressed a kiss to his cheeks, “lots more.”

“Definitely,” you promised and reached for his hand, “now let’s go! We gotta see the babies before they have to go to sleep!”

Oh yeah. Eddie Munson was a sucker for you.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson one shot #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x reader

[eternalbuckley]

Confessions. — jj maybank

SUMMARY: He likes you. You like him. But guess what? You‘re both too afraid to tell each other that piece of information. Until one of you finally says the words you both are craving to hear from each other.

word count: 1,480

genre: fluff and slight angst | gn!reader, queer!reader, bipoc!reader and plus-size!reader friendly

warnings: teasing, mention of weed use, love confessions, some curse words, use of pet name (angel), english is not my first language, slightly proofread — if i forgot something, please let me know!

a/n: first time i wrote anything for our beloved jj! i’m on a slight writers block so it's shorter than my usual fics. BUT i’m still happy that i actually finished it :) happy reading everyone 🫶

disclaimer: please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work or post this anywhere without my consent. do not translate my work and post it anywhere — i give you no permission to do that. i only post my stories here, so if you find my work anywhere else please let me know! reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated and welcomed!

navigation | masterlist

(not my gif, credits to the owner)

“You fucking asshole,” you joked and nudged his arm slightly. He chuckled while you gave him his joint back after you took a hit from it.

You were currently sitting with your friend, JJ, at the beach. It was a more hidden area, your secret spot. You haven’t seen him in a while. Well, actually you did. But it has been some weeks since you hung out alone with him. The past few weeks put some distance between you, mostly because you both were scared. Scared of falling even more for each other.

Yes, you fell for one of your closest best friends. You might be an idiot for that, you thought to yourself. Nearly every day once you realized the truth about your own feelings. Sadly, you were almost one hundred percent sure that he didn’t feel the same way about you. Despite Sarah and Kiara telling you the opposite all the time.

Sarah knew from John B. how JJ talked about you in front of him and Pope every time the three of them were alone together. Your friends knew that the way he looked at you and treated you gave everything about his real feelings away.

That boy was head over heels for you. But just like you, he was sure you wouldn’t like him back. Not someone like him. How could you after all? He was just a guy who either was high, running away from his problems, drinking, or spending time with his friends or specifically with you. The last two options are actually something good but JJ still didn’t see anything good in or about him. At least not good enough for you.

On the other hand, everybody saw the way you looked at him as well. Either when he was looking or not. The way you were the only person who was able to calm him down. The way you would be the only one who was laughing at some of his jokes. You were the only person he would let in if he had a breakdown. Everybody could tell how much you meant to each other.

But sure, you both didn’t like each other at all.

“You know how much I love smoking with you, angel, right?” He grinned at you and took another hit from his rolled joint. That fucking bastard.

His grin got even bigger after he noticed the slight blush creeping on your cheeks. “Such a pretty shade.” JJ slightly put one of his fingers on your cheek and pointed out the red cheeks.

You widened your eyes and immediately laid down on your back. There was some grass underneath you – since you were sitting at the edge of the beach. You were trying to hide your face from him by looking at the sky. Even while you were starting to see the stars getting brighter, he still saw the blush he was causing on your face. You always blushed whenever he used that particular pet name for you. And he knew damn well what it did to you until now he just never said something about it. It had to be the joint finally taking in its effect in both of your bodies. Your eyes were still focused on the sky. JJs eyes were focused on you, even after he laid down next to you as well. The joint between his fingers was long forgotten.

Minutes passed by in complete silence. You didn’t trust your own body, so you tried not to look at him. You were too scared of what could happen if you did.

“No matter how hard I try, you’re always on my mind,” he whispered and broke the silence between you. He couldn’t wait any longer. He needed to say his feelings out loud even if it meant taking a risk. He had to.

You slightly gulped. “I don’t know what you mean, JJ. Like… You are on my mind too. Just like… Like everyone else,” you tried to calm yourself down. You exactly knew what he was talking about.

You heard him slightly chuckling because of your answer. He finally laid down on his back and watched the night sky as well.

“I can’t stop thinking about you, angel. Every time I try to stop myself from it, it becomes more,” he spoke softly. His head was still turned towards the sky.

You could feel his body warmth, both your bodies were laying closely next to each other. Both your hands were almost touching but no one dared to overstep this part. Your heart started beating faster because what if he actually liked you after all? What if your friends were telling you the truth all the time?

“JJ…” You sighed with a quiet voice.

“I always push everyone away but with you? It’s different,” he continued, “You’re special to me. You always have been.”

Each of your pinky fingers got closer but didn’t touch. You decided to let him talk and didn’t want to interrupt him until he was finished.

“I can’t sit here any longer anymore and keep my feelings hidden. I can’t and don’t want to lose you. It might be too late already and I might be selfish right now but I have to tell you these things,” he paused for a moment. “But you won’t leave my mind. I’m always finding myself thinking and smiling about your smile, the way your eyes shine when you talk about your favorite things and interests. How you laugh at my stupid jokes even if we both know damn well that they’re bad sometimes. I love the way you take care and be there for your loved ones. Especially for me, angel. Do you want to know why I call you angel?”

You hummed and nodded your head. Your lips slightly formed a smile because of his words.

“Because you are the definition of being an angel.”

Your eyes slightly teared up at this confession. It took you a few seconds to process it but it ended up in finally holding his pinky finger. A small smile appeared on both of your lips.

You chuckled, “I hate you.” He knew it was one of your jokes.

“I’m pretty sure it’s quite the opposite.”

“How do you want to know that?”

He turned his body towards you, and you followed him. It’s the first time you noticed how close your bodies actually were.

“I‘m hoping it,” JJ chuckled nervously. He was scared he might fuck up everything he has with you. Unless he already did.

You looked him in the eyes. There was a light dim from the moon on his face, which let you see him a tiny bit better. Both of your hands were next to each others faces again. One more move and you would hold each other again but you both were too afraid to do it in that very moment. You started hearing your own heartbeat again the more you looked at him from this position. There was a comfortable atmosphere between you. And no one wanted to ruin it. JJ scooted closer to you, your noses were slightly brushing against each other. One more move and you could feel his lips on yours. You could feel his breath on your face and slowly closed your eyes with a short sigh.

"I.. I do," you suddenly whispered softly. You didn’t plan to but it just happened. Maybe it was the joint and how it calmed down your nerves.

JJ immediately sat up and looked down at you. He let out a surprised noise which made you laugh. You sat up as well and faced him. Taking in his hands, you repeated your words, to which he started to smile. He nervously brushed over your hands with his thumbs.

"I like you, JJ. You make me happy and you are my safe place. You probably always have been even when I didn’t realize my feelings for you. Even Sarah or Kiara couldn’t convince me of the truth," you chuckled at your own anxiety.

JJ eventually closed the gap between you and kissed you softly. There was no harsh pressure, just softness. He was careful. Testing how far he could go for this moment. Hearing the waves from the sea in the background made it even more perfect. Especially because after all it was your shared and secret spot. It already had a special meaning for both of you. Tonight, it made it even more special.

“Admit it, angel. I‘m just too irresistible,” he teased you after your kiss. That asshole.

You slightly slapped his arm. With a chuckle, you pulled him towards you. "Just shut up," and with that, you kissed him again.

It really took just one joint and smoking it alone with him to admit your feelings to each other. And it was the best decision ever.

#⚘; — my writing ✧♡ #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #outer banks #outer banks x reader #obx #jj obx #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x pogue!reader #jj maybank angst #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank fic #jj maybank one shot #outer banks angst #outer banks fluff #gn!reader

[brights-place]

Floyd dating an S/O that can't speak English

Pairings: Floyd X Reader

Warnings: Floyd being an cutie patootie, Fluff

A/N: As an Person who can't speak english properly or that well I find this request so lovely! THIS IS FOR ALL THE PEOPLE LIKE ME WHO'S ENGLISH IS NOT THEIR FIRST LANGUAGE >:))

- The first time Floyd saw you he stood still and stared in awe like a deer caught in headlights - He wanted to talk to you then and there so he did he stuttered but loved how you smiled but when he noticed your accent he melted into putty

- Floyd loves you so much its well known that he does - He helps you practice English whenever he gets the free time, only if you actively wanna improve, he doesn’t mind otherwise

- Floyd makes sure that you are respected by everyone and if someone points out your accent he smiles while you tell them your from (Your country)

- He loves how you are always smiling when people ask about yourself and your culture along with your genre of music since you were also an troll

- He loves it whenever you sing in your language either in front of the others, or even just by yourself in your room when you think no one is listening to you.( Not that he will ever tell you he dose)

-The thing is that when people of the same culture/ethnicity meet it’s an automatic click and bond so when he see's you chatting with trolls who are the same culture/ethnicity as you he can't help but be happy

- He tries to learn your language which he succeeds in and would see you blush when he calls you "My Love"

- Learns about your culture and tries to make you feel like your at home - The way your heart did a double back flip and a barrel roll when he spoke in your home langage as you got all excited and giddy squealing - He loves how you start to praise him whenever he learns a new word which ends up with you two making out after a bit when he speaks in your mother tongue

- He LOVES IT! WHEN YOUR COOKING! he will tell you directly how much he loves it and hopes you would make more which you do

- When you struggle to speak english he makes sure to hold your hand and smile up at you

- He loves your accent and how you sound so angelic to him

- He likes leave light kisses and kissed all over your face. Your forehead, cheeks, nose, anywhere accessible to him he would kiss smiling while you laugh and try to stop him but he couldn't help but giggle -I swear he just zones out on you. Like he’s just hypnotized by you and all he’s thinking "Fuck i'm so lucky..."

- When you ever get mad he can't help but blush and cover his face with his hand. You switching languages makes him squeal but he also knows when your on the phone speaking to another language he knows that it was to let others around you know that your conversation was not for them.

- When you get mad and are close to ripping someones lungs out floyd has to stop you but sometimes he stays back watching you in awe

- You cursing in your home language and insulting someone he can't help but smile at how gorgeous you looked to him but to others they have fear in their eyes

- But whenever you two fight which is never ever happening unless your in an very bad mood and notice the mess in your house when he had his brothers over

- Like when he see's you fighting with someone he can't help but be smile softly when your yelling at him he would be worried trying to understand you but soon he smiles more and moves closer towards your pissed off expression "Your Beautiful when your mad" floyd said as you blushed

- he made sure to tell his brothers not to cause an mess next time coming over.

- Loves it whenever you come to his defense and cuss whoever is bothering him or making him uncomfortable - You have cussed out john dory face to face for what he had did to floyd in the past and - It warms is heart seeing you do that. You’re actually defending. He covered his face whenever you ask him if he’s OK since he’s blushing under the covered up part of his face with his hand.

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2024 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact!

#fluff #headcannons #x reader #trolls art #trolls x reader #dreamworks trolls #trolls 3 #band together #trolls band together #trolls movie #trolls #trolls Floyd #pink troll #emo troll #Floyd troll #trolls floyd x reader #floyd trolls #pink floyd #Floyd #Floyd X Reader #WHDIWNKR

[atinycafe]

MEETING HYUNG LINE ATZ 4 THE FIRST TIME — headcanons

pairing: ateez hyung line (psh, khj, jyh, kys) x fem!reader genre: fluff wrd cnt: 4.2k warnings: different aus for each boy, violence + language + annoying man hitting on reader (hwa's part), groping and sexual harassment by creep (yuyu's part) + mention of needles and blood (yeo's part), petnames note: this weirdly took me so long that's why i didn't post my usual tiny drabbles these past days, like i think you can actually see me lose interest in writing this as you go on further and further in the post, but anyway if you like it, feel free to tell me so i can write 4 the maknae line, feel free to request anything, i'll write it 4 u bb, also completely out of context but yeosang's initials are crazy like sir?? masterlist

　　○˳　　　🎭　　　idol!hongjoong x model!reader (1.3k)

you ready yourself for what lies ahead, inhaling soft breaths to steady your nerves. you make a conscious effort not to bite on your acrylic nails, a habit that helps alleviate your stress. standing in a line filled with seasoned models, you find yourself at the forefront.

this marks your first time opening for a catwalk show, and it happens to be for balmain, one of your favorite brands. you can sense the gaze of more experienced mannequins piercing the back of your head, intensifying your desire to disappear completely.

excitement courses through you, but it is overshadowed by overwhelming anxiety. your stomach tightens beneath the long black bodycon dress. the excessively high heels dig uncomfortably into your feet, and the black fur coat feels hot and itchy against your skin. a golden necklace dips between your breasts, accentuating the deep v-cut of your dress.

gazing down at your legs, you can feel the tightness of the dress, accentuating their curves forcefully. the thought of appearing awkward while attempting to strut along the runway plagues your mind. you pout and try to recall the words of your therapist, assuring yourself that everything will be okay, despite your rising anxiety.

the staff begins the final checks on the models, informing you that the show will commence in 10 minutes. everyone nods, preparing themselves. some models ask their personal assistants to double-check their hair and makeup, while others place their healthy smoothies on the large tables at the sides.

you remain still, already prepared, though the weight of the coat on your body feels burdensome. breathing becomes a challenge, but you push through the discomfort. fake it till you make it—perhaps the placebo effect can work in your favor now; you desperately need it.

you all stand behind the grand curtains, the sound of music signaling the beginning of the show. having practiced a new, slightly more sensual catwalk routine for this occasion, you convince yourself that everything will be fine. however, the fuck ass coat… it weighs so heavily upon you.

recognizing your cue, you part the curtains on the first drop of the music. the lights dramatically illuminate your silhouette as you push your anxiety to the back of your mind, casting a seductive smirk toward the audience on either side of the runway.

you start strutting slowly, each step perfectly synchronized with the bass of the song. you know you look good, feeling your hips sway enticingly. yet, you can't help but notice the tightness in your chest and the sudden difficulty in breathing. fuck that damn coat.

quickly contemplating your options, you realize no one is behind you. if you take a dramatic pause, it won't disrupt the flow. and so, you do just that. in the middle of the runway, you come to a halt, gracefully turning on yourself as if putting on a show for the spectators. removing your coat, you reveal the backless dress beneath, flinging the fur onto someone seated in the front row. gasps of astonishment ripple through the crowd, and the camera flashes multiply, blinding you to the identity of the recipient of your 10-kilogram coat—only catching a glimpse of orange hair.

resuming your stride, you are well aware that this impulsive act will likely be splattered across social media for months. you suppress a laugh as you imagine the dramatic edits that will ensue. with the burden of the coat lifted, you finally feel free from the weight that had fueled your anxiety.

having completed the walk flawlessly, you now find yourself in your own small cubicle—a room of your own, courtesy of your friendship with olivier rousteing. seated in a chair, donning simple shorts and a t-shirt, you sip on your americano. your

face is adorned with a white face mask as you stare intently at something on your phone, hugging your knees.

the door creaks open, and you assume it's your assistant finally arriving to inform you that your uber has arrived. pushing against the dressing table, you swivel the rolling chair to face the door, only to be met with a stranger.

both of your mouths hang open in surprise, and you simply gaze at each other in disbelief. you, because you find yourself face-to-face with one of your favorite singers, hongjoong from ateez. and him, because he didn't expect you to look so adorable after witnessing the mature show you put on just thirty minutes ago.

"uhh, can i help you?" you ask, swiftly removing the mask and straightening yourself, coughing softly in awkwardness.

"uh, yeah, you… umm, dropped this earlier," he points to the weighty coat in his grasp, and your jaw drops once more.

you just threw that coat at kim fucking hongjoong. you wish you could disappear.

"oh shit, sorry, i…" you begin to stand up, almost causing the cup of americano in your lap to tumble. but you catch it in the nick of time, your reflexes acting swiftly, even as your embarrassment threatens to engulf you. "did it hurt?" you blurt out in a quick squeak.

did it hurt? did it hurt?? you must be out of your damn mind. what kind of question is that? your face flushes, and the redhead before you can only stare in shock before bursting into laughter.

"shit sorry, 'm not making fun of you, i promise precious," he manages to say in between wheezes, tears forming in his eyes. "no, it didn't. don't worry about me. i'm stronger than i look." you let out an awkward laugh, finding some amusement in the situation as well, and you wipe at your face, feeling exhausted. it's only 9 pm, but you've been at this place since dawn. hongjoong notices the tired smile on your face and straightens up.

"i didn't know who to give it to. i figured since you… uhh, wore it," he trails off, hoping you'd understand that he didn't want to waste your time.

"that's so nice of you, if i were you i would've kept it to be honest," you laugh, finally starting to feel at ease. and he smiles.

he smiles. your brain goes haywire at the sight, and you can't help but make a quick remark, "could i get your autograph?"

he looks at you as if you've just asked him the most improbable thing in the world, and you bite your lip, scolding yourself internally for getting too comfortable. "sorry, you don't have to—"

"no no no, it's alright. i just didn't think you… knew me," now it's your turn to look at him in the same way he did, and you're at a loss for words.

you try to formulate a response, attempting to convey that he's rather daft for being surprised that you recognize him. but before you can speak, your assistant finally enters the room, holding your considerably lighter coat. he eyes hongjoong up and down, and then turns to you, pointing at him discreetly.

"isn't that the guy you keep fangirling over?" your horror-stricken gaze meets your assistant's, while hongjoong hides his face behind the fur coat, muffling his laughter within the material.

your assistant fails to read the room and continues, "anyway, your uber's there. come

out whenever you're ready, but make it quick, guys." he gives both of you a knowing look, and you stare back in a mix of confusion and disbelief. he places your brown coat on the chair next to hongjoong and closes the door behind him as he exits.

"sorry about him, man. he's weird. don't mind him," you start, tossing the empty cup of americano into the trash along with the face mask you had worn. as you reach for your brown clothing, you pass by hongjoong, noticing how his eyes follow you, his smile never fading. his cologne wafts around him, but you resist the urge to inhale deeply. while putting on your coat, hongjoong finally smirks.

"i'll give you my autograph next time i see you, along with that coat. in exchange, give me your number."

○˳　　　🏍️　　　gangster!seonghwa x chaebol!reader (0.9k)

you're chilling in the vip section of one of seoul's most famous clubs. having a blast with your girlfriends, clinking glasses, and laughing uproariously. everyone around recognizes you as the daughter of a prominent politician, shamelessly having a good time with other influential figures' daughters, but they mind their own business.

you feel the judgmental gazes on you, but you try to ignore them, not wanting to let them ruin your night. your father wasn't the best person, openly feasting on the public's taxes. he was awful both in public and private. you're relieved he's a deadbeat dad, with his messed up personality, you don't have to deal with him.

you'd rather spend his ill-gotten money on clubbing and shopping, reclaiming a small piece of what he's taken from the nation. it might be foolish, but hey, you're just a young girl. what else can you do?

your thoughts are interrupted when one of your girls grabs your arm, slurring about wanting to dance. you both giggle as her words come out in slow motion. you stand up, letting her lead you onto the dance floor.

you move to the beat, her body pressed against your back, her hands caressing your bare waist as yours wave in the air. she leans in, her nose brushing against your hoop earring, and she shouts over the loud music about a guy who keeps checking you out. you turn to her, silently asking "where?" and she points behind you.

you pivot, following her gesture, and lock eyes with a man sitting in a vip section similar to yours. he's at the edge of a circular seat, accompanied by seven other guys. as his gaze meets yours, he smirks, the club's lasers reflecting off the grills in his mouth. you flash a smile, then turn away, acting unfazed. your friend catches on, throwing her head back in laughter as she teasingly grabs a handful of your ass. both of you erupt in fits of giggles, behaving like immature high school students.

the night carries on, and you grow tired of dancing. the other girls have joined you on the dance floor, so you leave them and head to the bar. you ask the bartender for a glass of water, hoping to refresh yourself a bit. suddenly, you feel a large hand on the small of your back. you smile, assuming it's the stranger from earlier, but when you turn around, your smile fades. it's some random guy, much older, and you recoil in disgust, smoothing over the spot he touched with your palm.

"ew, back off. not interested," you say dismissively, not even bothering to look at him. you shift your focus to the bartender, who gives you a sympathetic smile. he places the glass of water in front of you and goes off to clean other glasses.

the man, who still hasn't budged from behind you, snatches your drink and takes a sip. you look at him, utterly shocked, thinking, "what the fuck does he think he's doing?" he carelessly drops the cup right next to your hand on the table, causing the water to splash onto your fingers, making you flinch.

"water? nah, let me get you something good, babe. what do you want? i can get you anything," he yells at the bartender, who gives you a questioning look. you shake your head in refusal. when the guy sees that you both ignore him, he starts getting agitated.

"what the fuck is wrong with you?" he snaps at you. funny, you were thinking the same thing. "you think you're better than me or something? i know who you are, you bitch. just because your daddy's th—"

before he can finish his sentence, his head slams onto the table, and he crumples to the floor, leaving a streak of blood where his nose hit the wood. you turn to the person who just knocked him out.

"seonghwa, nice to meet you, pretty. sorry about him. he won't bother you anymore," he says calmly as he takes a seat next to you, motioning for someone to remove the unconscious body. you stare at him in astonishment before taking a sip of your water, letting the cool liquid calm you down.

he signals the bartender, who swiftly approaches, discussing a glass on the rocks. the older man nods unsteadily. taking advantage of the moment, you let your eyes wander over his face. he's attractive, but that's not what catches your attention. the dragon tattoo peeks out from his shirt, extending along the side of his neck. it's the symbol of the notorious gang and, surprisingly, the owners of the club you're in.

"you often handle paying patrons like that?" you inquire, taking another sip of your water and gazing straight ahead.

now it's his turn to feel your gaze on his profile, and you can hear his chuckle. "i only do that to the ones who scare the highest-paying patrons," he cleverly replies, alluding to your wealthy background. you roll your eyes and turn to face him, resting your elbows on the table and propping your cheek on your fists.

"'m not paying for my water, you are," you state, and he laughs, mimicking your posture by resting his cheek on his hand.

"am i now? and why would i do that, pretty?" he smirks. you can now see the details of his grills more clearly, small diamonds adorning the silver jewelry, and you smirk right back at him. a few strands of hair fall across your face as your body shakes with laughter.

"'cause you got a crush on me," you drawl out the last word, your smile widening, your cheeks starting to hurt. he moves one hand to your face, gently brushing the hair away with a feather-light touch, and chuckles softly.

"such a smart girl."

　　○˳　　　🚟　　　student!yunho x student!reader (0.8k)

you gaze down at the subway floor beneath your feet, gripping your eyes tightly. the train compartment is packed to the brim, the morning rush causing people to scramble and squeeze together. however, you're well aware that the hand grazing against your skirt is no accidental result of the cramped space.

clenching your fists, you lean your forehead against the windowpane of the door ahead, seeking solace in the cold surface. a scream wells up within you, the desire to make a scene overwhelming, but this is the first time such a thing has happened to you. frozen, you're unable to react.

your eyes sting with tears, and you attempt to hold them back, but they refuse to be contained. small droplets trickle down your cheeks, and you gently brush them away with the sleeves of your uniform.

suddenly, the subway screeches to a halt, reaching a new station before the doors slide open in front of you. you lower your gaze to the floor, your hair partially obscuring your face, and you notice only one pair of jordan 4 sneakers and a pair of pants resembling the ones worn by boys in your school. your curiosity leads you to glance up swiftly, and there stands one of the tallest boys you've ever seen. he's a stranger, someone you've never crossed paths with before, but you surmise he must be a new student at your school, given the familiar uniform.

he stares at your face, taking note of the tear tracks on your cheeks, then casts a quick glance behind you, piercing through the person who has been violating your boundaries for the past five minutes. in an instant, he connects the dots, understanding the situation, and his expression changes from shock to anger.

he steps into the train, forcefully grabbing the man behind you before hurling him out with a powerful throw. the man lands on his rear with a grunt, and before he can utter a word, the doors seal shut.

you have no time to react as more people flood in through the other subway doors, inadvertently pushing against your body. almost losing your balance, the boy behind you grabs your forearm, turning you around and gently pressing you against the door. his hands shield you from the surrounding crowd, his larger and stronger frame providing protection.

you can only gaze up at him, fear evident in your wide eyes, while he looks down at the others around him, his face reflecting displeasure as people jostle against him. eventually, he looks back at you, and his expression softens.

"sorry for touching you like that," he whispers, and you feel a tug at your heart, strangely soothed by his voice despite his recent shoving and pushing.

"like what?" you respond softly, perplexed because he has nothing to apologize for; in fact, he did the complete opposite by helping you fend off the harasser.

he simply gestures toward your forearm with his long finger, not even making contact, alluding to the moment he turned you to face him.

"oh," you glance down at your arm, "'s alright," you say awkwardly.

silence hangs between the two of you. you try not to dwell on how close he is to you, but this time, the proximity doesn't make you uncomfortable. while yunho gazes upward, deliberately avoiding meeting your eyes, he can't help but notice their beauty—the way they shine so brightly with tears—making him feel breathless, as though he could suffocate if he stares for too long, forgetting to breathe.

"by the way, thank you for, umm…" you finally manage to speak, still unable to meet his gaze as his eyes find their way back to you, "you know, yeah, thanks."

he's about to reply, insisting it was nothing, when the door behind you opens. a gasp escapes your lips as you begin to lose your balance, but his hand instinctively reaches out, pulling you closer and helping you regain stability.

he tries to create distance between you, but the stream of people surging in from behind prevents it. the next station is even more crowded than the previous, as it draws nearer to downtown. pressed tightly against his chest, your left cheek resting against his pec, you can hear his heartbeat quicken. the closeness causes his ears and neck to turn bright red.

once both of you step out of the subway, finally arriving at the station that leads to your school, you release a weary sigh simultaneously. at the sound, you look at each other and share a soft chuckle.

walking in the same direction, you have a feeling that getting this close to yunho won't be a one-time occurrence.

　　○˳　　　💉　　　doctor!yeosang x patient!reader (1.2k)

"so, how did that happen?" yeosang mumbles as he checks out the open gash on your hairline, his gloved hands carefully examining the wound. you wince in pain when he applies a bit too much pressure, and he gives you an apologetic look before returning to his seat, tossing the gloves into the tiny trash can beside him.

you're in one of the er rooms, sitting on the examination table, and you're grateful for the blood smeared on your face, hiding the blush you can't help but feel around the cute doctor. you nervously bite your lip, and he notices, reaching out with his thumb to release your poor lip from the clutches of your teeth. you don't overthink the gesture; after all, he's a doctor who doesn't want you to cause another injury to your face.

raising a perfectly arched eyebrow, he expects an answer to his previous question. you fiddle with your fingers, trying to come up with a response that won't embarrass you. eventually, you let your shoulders slump in defeat and clear your throat.

"my friend, uh, told me a joke, and it made my stomach hurt. i clutched my stomach," you explain, and he nods along, ensuring he follows the story. "but then, when i bent down too fast, i ended up smacking my head on the glass table and, umm, breaking it…"

he hides his face behind his palm, scribbling something in the paper placed in your folder. you can tell from the shaking of his shoulders that he's laughing. he mumbles something about how the joke must've been really funny.

you offer a shaky smile as he explains the next steps you'll need to take at home. he mentions that you won't require sutures since he doesn't want any obvious scarring, which is a relief because you're not exactly fond of needles. he continues talking about the medications and creams you'll need to apply to your face every night and day for the next month. you agree with a soft nod, feeling the throbbing headache intensify with each movement.

he hands you a prescription paper, and as you reach for it, you nearly stumble, experiencing the same dizziness that preceded fainting. but he catches you in his strong arms with lightning reflexes. you pull back, clutching your head instead, as the headache reaches unbearable levels.

yeosang notices your distress and swiftly guides you back onto the bed, using the gentlest movements. he takes hold of your chin between his fingers and looks into your fluttering eyes as you struggle to keep them open. worry lines crease his forehead as he reaches into his front pocket, retrieving not a pen, but a small flashlight. he shines it in your face, swiftly passing it in front of your eyes to check for dilation.

"you've lost quite a bit of blood," he says, his jaw tensing with concern as he lightly traces the back of his fingers along your cheekbones. "i can't believe i missed that…"

you wave your hand dismissively, whispering that it's okay since you only recently started feeling the effects of the blood loss.

"do you know your blood type? we need to transfuse, sweetheart," he whispers, clicking on his laptop, most likely searching for your blood type in your folder, which isn't available since this is your first visit to this hospital. you don't dwell on the endearment, too focused on recalling your blood type from memory.

"no, sorry, i don't remember," you meekly reply, feeling a tinge of embarrassment. after all, what adult doesn't know their own blood type?

"it's okay," he reassures, turning to you with a soft smile. "i'll take a sample, send it to one of the nurses, and they'll find out for us, okay?"

the question is rhetorical, and you realize it. you don't bother mentioning your fear of needles; it's not that you're scared of them, but you just don't want them penetrating your body.

with wide eyes and clammy hands, you agree with a small nod. yeosang immediately notices your tension. your knee bounces up and down rapidly, and your hands tremble slightly in your lap. he doesn't say anything as he retrieves a disinfected syringe from a small plastic container, along with two tubes.

he brings a chair in front of you and takes a seat, bringing himself down to your level. you gaze at him through your lashes, and yeosang feels his heart skip a beat. he takes a deep breath, then gently holds your hands, rubbing his thumbs softly against your skin. he can feel your rapid heartbeat under his touch and gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.

"hey," he simply says, and you look at him, waiting for more. when no further words come, you respond with a quiet "hey" of your own.

"good, the patient is responsive, not a lifeless body," he smiles crookedly, cracking a joke that brings a smile to your face.

"wow, the patient is even smiling. today must be my lucky day," your smile widens, and he releases your hands. you hadn't realized how grounding his touch had been until it disappeared.

he grabs your arm and places your hand on his lap, palm facing up. he starts tapping the crook of your elbow since you're wearing a t-shirt, trying to locate your veins. when they don't appear, he clucks his tongue and takes hold of your smaller fist in his own, manually making your hand clench while his other hand remains on your forearm, attempting to raise a vein.

you remain silent and still, focusing on his concentrated expression. his eyebrows furrow, and his eyes remain fixed except for the occasional blink. his strong nose defines his face, and you notice the spot where he bites his cheek from inside his mouth. there's a small birthmark next to his eye, shaped like a tiny heart, and you find it endearing.

"enjoying the view?" he smirks, and before you can respond to defend your honor, he grabs the syringe, effectively silencing you. he tears open the packaging, discarding the waste on the table, and approaches your arm.

you flinch when he places a hand on your forearm, and he looks up at you with a gentle smile. however, the sight of the needle next to his face does little to calm you.

"'m gonna need you to keep your eyes on me, can you do that?" he asks, and you nod once, not planning on fixating on the impending puncture. "i'll make it quick, i promise, princess. do you trust me?" once again, you nod, this time thrown off balance by the endearing nickname, which he notices through the quiver of your lips.

"if i asked for your number, would you give it to me?" he shocks you with the question, as he's one of the most beautiful humans you've ever encountered, and here you are, looking like a complete mess with half your face covered in blood and a massive hole in your forehead.

"y-yeah, i would, obviously," you stammer, and he swiftly inserts the needle, hitting the vein accurately—something for which you're internally grateful. instinctively, you glance downward, but he quickly clicks his tongue, drawing your attention back.

"what did we say, eyes on me," he shows off his perfect teeth as he finally removes the needle, carefully transferring its contents into the two small bottles which he pushes aside. "now about this phone number."

#im back from my 2day hiatus #BTW?? WHO SHOULD I WRITE SMUT 4 NEXT #'m thinkin mr khj.. #like this man has been wrecking me this whole come back i cannowt #i need him 2 b horribly mean 2 me and just make me cry #headcanon #ateez #x reader #fluff #seonghwa #hongjoong #yunho #yeosang #hyung line #x y/n #x you #imagines #scenarios #drabble #time stamp #gangster au #mafia au #highschool au #doctor au