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daisynik7 · 3 months

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I blinked and suddenly I had a Valentine

Author's Note: modern setting, no curses, high school setting. ~1.3k words. Divider credit to @/cafekitsune. Title from the song “Valentine” by Laufey. Rice bear bathing in Japanese curry looks something like this (reddit link). Part of the past lives vignettes series. Thank you for reading!

It’s almost the end of January and you’ve spent the past three weeks at your new school eating alone, either in the classroom or in the cafeteria. You’re too shy to socialize with your peers, who are already well-established in their own social circles. This is what happens when you transfer in with less than three months left of the schoolyear. No one wants to be friends with the new girl, right?

Well, two people prove this theory wrong.

Yu Haibara is the first to approach you in the cafeteria during lunchtime. “Hi there!” he greets, taking a seat across from you, a cheerful smile on his face. You can tell from his aura alone that this is someone easy to get along with. Jovial, optimistic, kind-hearted. You’d normally feel nervous interacting with someone you’ve never met before, but his welcoming presence immediately puts you at ease.

He’s followed by a blonde boy, slightly taller, a bit lanky, and sulking behind him. His name is Kento Nanami. You recognize him from your homeroom, though you’ve never spoken before. Occasionally, he eats his meals there, usually in the back with his headphones in, listening to music, while you’re in the front, indulging in whatever homemade bento box you decide to make for yourself that day. It’s crossed your mind more than once to join him so that neither of you are alone, though you’ve chickened out each time, convinced that he’d rather remain that way than be bothered by a nobody. Unlike Haibara, his lips are pressed together in a natural frown. You don’t sense unhappiness or animosity from him; rather, it’s indifference, apathy. When he sits down next to his pal, he gives you a nod, acknowledging you.

Haibara does the courtesy of introductions. You hold your hand out to him, doing the same. He takes it enthusiastically, beaming at you. “I know who you are. I’m a first-year too!”

It doesn’t strike you as odd that he’s already somewhat familiar with you. Instead, you’re relieved to finally be making friends in this cutthroat environment called high school. After this first meeting, the three of you are inseparable. You get on well with Haibara, who’s an expert at keeping the conversation flowing. Nanami doesn’t say much, though you notice his subtle mannerisms that speak volumes more than what his actual words do. You can tell he admires your homemade lunches each time you uncover them at the table. His eyes light up, marveling at whatever creation you’ve concocted the night before: yakisoba, onigiri, chicken stir-fry. He doesn’t say anything, relying on Haibara to do the complimenting. You appreciate how intently he listens to you, even if he doesn’t have much to contribute. In homeroom, you sneak glances at him when your teacher says something particularly ridiculous, to which you spot the faintest hint of a smile flitting on his lips. And you realize that every time you’re walking beside each other, he makes sure to switch his bag to his arm away from you. Part of you hopes the real reason behind this is to be closer to you, but you try to keep those lovelorn thoughts buried in the back of your mind, being certain that’s not the case.

You eventually find out that Haibara has severe allergies, especially during the seasons of Winter and Spring. He explains how he has to take at least a few days off once a month, sometimes an entire week. Today, he dons a face mask, already anticipating it. “Don’t miss me too much,” he jokes, his bright smile noticeable even behind the mask. It’s February now; the three of you sit together at your regular spot in the cafeteria. Nanami eats his rice bowl in silence while you say to Haibara, “You’re going to miss Valentine’s Day.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, smirking. “I guess the two of you will have to be each other’s Valentines.”

At this, Nanami almost chokes on his food, face turning scarlet. He reaches for his water bottle, which is empty, still clearing his throat as he excuses himself to refill it. When you’re alone, you glare at Haibara, scolding him. “Why would you say that?!”

He shrugs innocently. “What’s the big deal? He likes you.”

Your jaw drops at his surprising statement. You’ve always thought that Nanami tolerates you, but you never truly believed he could ever like you. “What do you mean?”

Haibara blinks at you, as if the answer is so obvious. “He told me about you. Said how you always had the most amazing bento boxes for lunch. How cute your smile was whenever you’d take a bite. He was too shy to talk to you first, so he had me do it. You…didn’t know that?”

You stare at him, shaking your head slowly, stunned by this revelation.

He laughs nervously, scratching his head. “Oops.”

Nanami returns, back to his normal self now, remaining quiet. There’s still the faint blush on his cheeks; you pretend not to notice it. Nothing else is mentioned about Valentine’s the rest of the day, though it lingers on your mind the remainder of the week.

Haibara is out sick February 13th, leaving you and Nanami alone together for the first time since you befriended them. You’re curious to see if the dynamic would change, if Nanami would actually speak up now that his buddy isn’t around to fill the void with his amicable chatter. But lunch ends up being a quiet affair. You do your best to ask questions, start conversation, but he’s even more tense than he usually is. When you mention Valentine’s Day tomorrow, the familiar rosy tint spreads across his face. You drop it, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, though you can’t help thinking how sweet he is for reacting that way.

He likes you. The words have been replaying in your head since you heard them. And the truth is: you like Nanami too. Based on what Haibara said, he might be too shy to tell you.

So, you take matters into your own hands.

The next day, February 14th, you come to school carrying a box wrapped in red ribbon. Inside homeroom. You greet Nanami politely, catching the way his gaze drifts to your hands. You smile wider to yourself, excited to present it to him later. At your seat, you can smell the decadent scent of homemade chocolates and heart-shaped candies from the other girls in your class. You get increasingly nervous about the gift, wondering if he’ll receive it well. Still, it’s worth a shot.

When class is over and it’s time for lunch, Nanami waits for you near the door to walk to the cafeteria together. Ready to leave, you stop him, clearing your throat before you announce, “I have something for you.”

His eyes widen, his jaw clenches. It’s obvious he wasn’t expecting this.

You don’t hand it to him, afraid he wouldn’t know what to do with it. Instead, you untie the ribbon yourself, uncovering it. Inside is the bento box you prepared special for him. “I made this for you. Happy Valentine’s Day, Nanami.”

He reaches inside, holding the bento in his hands like found treasure. He snaps the cover off slowly, revealing rice balls formed into a cute bear, bathing in Japanese curry. A sheet of seaweed cut into a heart is placed directly in the center.

You watch him for his response, heart racing against your chest. He inspects it carefully, his expression softening to one of adoration. When he looks at you, he smiles, and you swear you’ve never seen anything more beautiful than Nanami Kento smiling.

“Do you like it?” you ask, needing to hear it in his own words.

He nods, still smiling. “I love it.”

You spend your lunch in the classroom, eating your matching bento boxes together while listening to his music on shared headphones.

For the first time in his life, Nanami has a special Valentine.

#nanami kento fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #Nanami Kento #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #kento nanami fluff #nanami fluff #nanami x reader #nanami x you #jjk fluff #past lives vignette series

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st4rrth0ughts · 22 days

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instead of sending flowers, come back to me.

aventurine x gn! reader ♣️🎲

tw, cw, timelines: death mentions, Aventurine suffering, 2.1 spoilers, Aven's backstory spoilers, reader's fate is somewhat murky, reader is implied to have been a close personnel of Aven, reader and Aven have known each other for around 5 years, takes place after 2.1

Summary: he's never lost a gamble, but you've changed that.

a/n: divider by @cafekitsune

a/n 2: song inspiration taken from Send me no flowers by Doris Day

Flowers neatly placed on a shelf, impressively enough, all thriving. Peonies, lilies, tulips, and many more. All accumulated from months of your trip to Herta's Space Station that you've sent to Aventurine as an apology for leaving for a while.

He'd been reluctant to let you go, but he didn't want to hold you back from doing what you wanted to do. Afterall, you did tell him that you'd be back in around 3 months. Longer than he wanted, but he'll wait.

He should have stopped you. Should have begged you to stay.

When the news reached his ears, he was in his office, sorting through paperwork. The moment the words of the space station being attacked even fell from the IPC worker's mouth, he'd shot up from his seat, and stormed into Diamond's office.

The fact that the man had simply pushed a transparent plastic pocket containing that matching earring he had insisted to get for you years back enraged him further. Those people at the space station couldn't even have the courtesy to put it in a damn box.

The second the door to his office shuts, he slumps against it, his hand clasping the plastic pocket so tightly the pin was digging through the layer and into his hand. The pain does little to ease or distract him from the emptiness in his heart. Crimson blood trickles down his palm, small droplets staining the pristine carpet.

He wants to cry. He wants to throw something into the wall and hear it smash into bits, and watch its broken pieces fall onto the floor, matching how his heart felt like it was crumbling into ash. But he cant find it in himself to. Not because he doesn't want to mourn you, but because he cant find the tears in his whole being to even shed. It just makes him hurt more.

Dull eyes stare at the most recent bouquet of roses, from 2 days ago. Still fresh, sweet smelling. 2 days. You'd been alive and well 2 days ago, and to think that the last gift he'd ever receive from you was a bouquet of roses made his heart sink further.

It's been years since he'd felt like this. Since the Katicans killed his parents, his sister and his homeland's people, since he'd been shackled, branded and had all human rights stripped from him. This feeling of helplessness, emptiness, and the heavy yet lingering sorrow that made his chest clench and burn, like someone was twisting a searing hot blade, lodging it deep into his body.

5 years ago, he'd made a gamble with himself. He'd let himself get close to you, just this once. You'd be the first person he would trust after his youth. He was confident in this bet. Afterall, he always was the final victor, no?

But every gambler has their losses.

You were his.

(note): guys i love aventurine i swear on my life

#✪fics!#hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #aventurine #aventurine honkai star rail #star rail aventurine #aventurine hsr #hsr x reader #hsr spoilers #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr x you #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x you #aventurine angst #guys i love him i swear

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arcielee · 9 months

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Only if for a night.

Summary: You find comfort in your husband's brother. Paring: Aegon Targaryen x Female!Reader Word Count: 3750 Warnings: Just some smut. Smidgen of Targcest in the beginning, voyeurism, marital cheating, oral (f receiving, m implied), fingering, p in v, breeding kink if you squint. Author's Note: This was a request from my darling anon! This idea literally had me obsessed until I completed it, so please don't think this is the bar for my response time. 😂 Also, a big thank you to my kindred spirits who answered my v. important questions about Aegon's booty! (You know who you are and Ily 💜) Banners & dividers by @cafekitsune Update: This story has a pick your own ending. And you told me I should concentrate. [Aegon x you] But you came over me like some holy rite. [Aemond x you] Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @schniiipsel @aemondx @fan-goddess @babygirlyofthevale @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @amiraisgoingthruit @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @itbmojojoejo @lovelykhaleesiii @darylandbethfanforever9

You felt numb from the sight: seeing your husband on his knees and feasting between the plush thighs of the queen.

It formed a knot that choked you, but it did not stem from a lover’s jealousy–as you knew that you did not love Aemond and he, certainly, did not love you. You always knew your marriage was one of honor and duty, to solidify victory, a peace offering postwar.

You came from a house that was reputable and wealthy, bringing a sizable force to ensure that King Aegon II would remain on the Iron Throne. Your father boasted of marrying his only daughter into the Targaryen dynasty and you felt fortunate to be given a handsome husband, despite his scarred socket.

Prince Aemond already had a fierce reputation that preceded before you met; your ladies-in-waiting tittered over his disfigurement, his sense of bloodlust, and their hushed whispers of kinslayer that haunted him still despite that the kingly decree his actions were that of a true dragon. He was a renowned veteran of the war that was won, that instilled his brother as king without question, and in return he remained prominent on the council, serving still as the Protector of the Realm.

You were shy, intimidated even, when you first saw the severity that lined his features, the unabashed gaze with his sapphire stone that replaced the eye lost, but you decided he was handsome in a way that was uniquely his own. You also found Aemond was respectful and kind, that he was intelligent, he was considerate, and you sighed your relief, knowing all too often how ladies would be knitted to cruel lords.

For your bedding ceremony, the only glimpse of the dragon that thrummed beneath was how Aemond barked to dismiss the maesters, the Lord Hand, allowing you both privacy to complete the act. He seemed well aware of the discomfort a maiden could feel and treated you with the utmost courtesy, mindful of your sighs, your soft sounds to completion.

He was dutiful and he was diligent. It was not love at first sight, not like the stories told; there was no fluttering of butterfly wings throughout nor did your heart skip a beat at the sight of him, but you enjoyed his company, his consistency, and his consideration.

In all, it was a formidable match and you were certain the marriage would be a success.

Especially once you produced a silver haired royal babe.

Which is why you were freshly bathed and dressed in silk, just the quiet echoes of your slippered footfalls against the cobblestone that led towards your lord husband’s quarters. You thought yourself fortunate no white cloak was perched outside his door, and you pressed close to listen before you carefully turned the gilded handle of the door.

The room was cast in the amber glow from the hearth and tapers lit, and it was the lewd sounds that first caught your attention. You were rooted in the doorcase, your eyelashes fluttered at the view in front of you.

Aemond was bare from the waist up, the peaks of the silver scars peering through his silver hair, and he was kneeled before the velvet settee at the end of his bed. You watched the muscled definition of his backside, the golden glow of the fireplace highlighting his bareness, as well as the elegant arc of a calf that was draped casually over his shoulder.

Your eyes followed the milky curve of this limb to look over his shoulder and see the flushed features of Helaena. She was seated on the settee, her laces loosened which allowed the natural spill of her chest, with the peak of her areolas and the rose hues that stained the skin showing. Her skirts were rutted around her hips, the fabric spilling around, and her eyelashes fluttered with a silver glimmer, her head rolling back with a wave of her silver tresses. A smile curled on her kiss-swollen lips and there was a shudder of her pleasure that rippled viscerally over, her fingers curling against his scalp with the breathless whisper.

“Aemond.”

The humiliation was hot in your veins and burned your cheeks; you willed yourself to move, but your eyes were rapt to attention, watching the frantic rise and fall of Helaena’s chest, her nipples pebbled, and the spilled moans from her mouth.

"Aemond, Aemond, Aemond…"

You left as quietly as you entered; your steps were soft, quick to take you back, with one hand lifting the silk of your chemise and the other wiping the tears that began to spill.

We were not in love, you remind yourself, but it still pinched a nerve within your chest. He was still your husband and you were duty bound to bore him a child, a son if the Lord Hand could choose. The act itself was not unpleasant, but Aemond had never…

Your thoughts were interrupted with a singsong call of your name; you were quick to wipe your face before turning to see the king.

“Your grace,” you offered him a feeble curtsy and even weaker smile.

Aegon moved with a grace, a sway to his steps; his brow furrowed above his wide, lilac eyes, and there was a genuineness to his question. “Sweet sister, it is late, what has you out of bed?”

Before you had been sent to King’s Landing, your mother warned you of his behaviors; you were also told the tale of how the newly anointed Lord Commander and your lord husband had to drag Aegon from the streets of Flea Bottom and place him on the Iron Throne.

But this notoriety of his youth seemed to dissipate with the placement of the Conqueror’s crown he now wore proudly on his silver waves. It seemed to kindle the royal ichor in his veins, and he moved with an elegance as he pressed closer, peering at you with his continued concern.

“I… I was feeling unwell and thought that I would go for a walk,” you chose your words carefully, trying to mask the threat of emotion that brimmed beneath.

His brow quirked. “Alone?”

You swallowed. In this moment, you wished to slip away, to return to your rooms and drown in your sorrow, your failures as a wife in light of learning your new husband’s infidelities, your self-loathing for craving the passion Aemond displayed, wishing it to be shown towards you instead…

The silence hung thick, too long for his liking, and Aegon reached to take your hand, placing it into the crook of his arm. “It is late,” he repeated. “If you are unwell, allow me to escort you back to your quarters.”

You fell in step, peering at him. Aegon was handsome, as your supposed all Targaryen men seemed to be; your eyes admired his silver tresses that curled at his shoulders, that showed golden with the lights that lined the corridor, casting a gold ring that reflected in the lilac of his eyes that flitted over you; his lips were rosy, an upwards curl when he noticed your stare. “You seem so solemn tonight,” he tried again.

The proximity allowed you to smell the long day on him, mixing with the scents of lavender and tea tree oils, a regal musk that called to you to nestle your head against his chest and cry. “It is only that I am feeling unwell,” is what you said instead.

His eyes were wide and watchful, but he did not argue and instead allowed the silence to envelope as he walked with you. Before you could wish him goodnight, he pushed into your room, ordering your handmaidens to fetch something to eat, as well as red wine to help settle your stomach.

They jumped with his command, quick to listen, and soon enough you were sitting on the terrace that overlooked the coast of Blackwater Bay, holding a goblet that brimmed with a Dornish wine that stained your lips with each polite sip. Aegon sat across from you, a boyish grin as he dismissed your handmaidens for the night, before reaching to break the bread for you both.

The silence followed from the corridor, settling over in a way that was not at all uncomfortable; you peered again at Aegon, a choked cry in your throat as you watched him take care to slice the cheeses and the olives for the bread, before offering it to you.

It was a simple, sweet gesture and you chewed, forcing down the bite with the wine. Whereas conversation had to be dragged from your husband, you found his brother’s tongue would not idle; perhaps it loosened from the wine, but it was not a mindless filler in a way that words are used as though silence were a threat, but you found Aegon to be cheerful, witty, as he shared stories from his youth.

Aegon glowned from his narration, from the silver light that poured over; the night sky was empty with the clouds rolling over the black water, the air cool and salty. Your cheeks were rosy from your drink and your laughter, and when your cup emptied, he was quick to refill it.

He pressed for your turn and you shared about your life before coming to King’s Landing. Aegon was an attentive listener, with sighs punctuating; you looked to see that his cheeks were pink from the wine and the wind, a curl returning to his lips. “My brother is fortunate to have such a pretty and witty wife.”

Those words were the unknown catalyst broken; you did not sob your sorrow but instead there were large tears that rolled down your cheeks. You did not realize you were shaking until you felt his fingers, his touch warm, soft, wrapping gently around your wrist. You allowed him to pull you from your seat, towards him–now standing–and enveloping you into his arms for a moment before he sat back down, pulling you onto his lap.

Your mannerly upbringing roared in your ears, this was wrong, this was improper, to be pulled into an unchaperoned embrace of your husband’s brother–the fucking king of the Seven Realms. But instead you curled against his chest, that regal musk soothing, his warmth pleasant against the nip of the air. You indulged in his comfort–his palm rubbing slow circles along your spine, his other arm across your lap, his hand gripping into your thigh.

His touch grounded you, allowing you to compose yourself and share with him what you had found in Aemond’s quarters, making sure to elicit a detail that Aegon freely supplied.

“He was with Helaena, right?”

You looked at him. “You knew?” Your voice cracked, incredulous.

Aegon only hummed, continuing his soothing ministrations, his hand rubbing your backside. “I thought you did as well,” he admitted. “Our status within the Seven Realms… requires certain duties to be fulfilled. We are honorbound to these obligations, to ensure peace amongst the kingdoms. But it is just a role to be played for the public.”

You knew this in part already; you were always aware of the duty of your marriage, the child that you were expected to bring into the world. But still, the truth spoken brought a new wave of tears that he consoled. Your body burned with his touch, his finger curling and his thumb pressing into your chin to bring your watery eyes to his own. “Is it that you love him?” He asked with a curiosity that could not be helped, in light of your reaction.

You did not, and would never, certainly not after this night. The tears that spilled came from something deeper, something that licked your belly when your eyes lingered in Aemond’s room, and your voice quavered, hiccupping to explain this.

Aegon had an almost kingly glow in the moonlight, with its silver light reflecting in the stubble that spread across his square jaw, framing the mischievous grin that curled on his wine stained lips. “Is your husband,” he speaks of him like he is apart from Aemond, not knitted within the same womb, with the same dragon’s blood thrumming in his veins, “not fulfilling his marital duties?”

You stammered with your response. This was not what you meant, as Aemond was courteous to his completion, but it was never like what you spied tonight. You flushed remembering the shades of pink that plumed against Helaena’s porcelain skin, how her back arched with her cries, his name a fervent prayer spilling from kiss-swollen lips…

"Aemond, Aemond, Aemond…"

Aegon’s timbre brings you back out to the terrace, with his continued soft circles on the outside of your thigh. “You would know if he had,” he spoke so casually, almost flippant with the subject.

How would you know? And you regret your question, your naivety apparent with your words.

The same mischievous smirk returned to his lips, and as the moonglow spilled over him something glimmered, something knowing from how his brow quirked with your question. Aegon tilted his head up slightly, his lips now close to the soft divot beneath your ear, grazing your skin with his whisper, “I could show you.”

Your lips part in shock, your eyes wide to look him over and see the flush of color that stained his cheeks, the wine that stained his lips.

And you dared to kiss him.

Your lips are shy to touch, almost chaste with your action, but Aegon responds, quick, his fingers curling at the base of your neck and his other coming around your waist. His lips are full, soft, warm with the hint of the sweet wine to taste when his tongue runs your bottom lip, eliciting a moan from you. He deepened the kiss, his tongue clever, careful, as he drew the very breath from your lungs.

The spill of silk showed your shoulder and you gasped softly when he broke away, his mouth ravenous to capture the skin now exposed, with a wake of love bites from his open mouth kisses, and a warmth began to bloom within you. You touched his chest with a gentle push to stand and he lets go, his lilac eyes wide and wanting; your hands trembled slightly as you reached to pull him to stand, boldly leading him within your chambers.

Aegon stopped you in the archway, and you turned to see the smile on his lips as he pressed against you, his thigh spreading your legs and his hands trailing your curves, settling and gripping onto your hip bones. His mouth captured yours once again, and your arms wrapped around his neck to bring him closer.

You almost whined when he stopped the kiss, his eyes glassy and their color swallowed by pools of black. “My brother is an idiot,” is all he said.

Before you could breathe a response, he pulled you into the room and back against his mouth, moving with the flutter of kisses along your jawline, nipping into the curve of your neck. His palms are still on the small of your waist, with guiding steps back towards the bed.

Clothes are removed with a passion, leaving a trail behind. “Lay back,” he coaxed, his hands warm against your bareness, careful to press until you laid against the mattress. Aegon followed after, climbing on top of you to meet with another kiss, with his sweet murmur, “Let me show you.”

It is a tickling sensation, the mixture of his stubble with the softness of his lips against the curve of your neck, trailing to your chest. Gooseflesh rippled over, your nipples peaking from the warmth of his touch; his palm cups one breast while his hot mouth latches to the other, teeth and tongue teasing.

You squirmed beneath him; his chuckle was low and warm against the valley between your breasts, from shifting his focus from one to the other. “So impatient,” and his hot kiss sends shivers down your spine, with an intensity that you know will mark you.

You shivered again with that thought.

This reaction encouraged a tensity shown to your nipples, his tongue swirled and another crest of pleasure rippled over, your hand moving to cover your mouth to muffle. Again, his fingers curled around your wrist, pulling your arm down to your side and pushing up to find your lips. “None of the that,” and his lips curled into an almost wicked smile, “your king wishes to hear you.”

Satisfied with the crimson that flooded your cheeks, Aegon moved towards your core with sporadic kisses trailing, a warm tickle of his exhale as he nestled between your thighs.

Your heart fluttered with the intimate kiss he placed, something that sparked a warmth that began to spread out towards the apex of your thighs and beyond. Your hips buck slightly from the sensation and you can feel him grin against your cunt.

“So eager,” he breathed, a warm thrill against your slick slit, his tongue flitting with a precision that had you panting. “Yes, just like that,” he praised, his fingers now pressing within your velvet walls and stretching as one curled within, then another.

His mouth, his touch was practiced, pulling something to blossom within the pit of your stomach, a fluttering sensation that built with the tandem of his fingers and his tongue.

You gasped, peering to see the top of his head, the spill of his silver waves as he moved, ravenous, determined. You writhed, a pitiful mewling sound, and his one hand moved to curl underneath your thigh, holding you in place with his continued sinful motion, your arousal spilling onto the bedsheets.

It was too much, and you whimpered, “A-Aegon,” as your hands balled to grip the linen.

“Just like that,” he purred against, his rhythm building still, a pressure threatening to burst within you. “Come for me, sweet girl.”

It engulfs you as though you had been dropped into Blackwater Bay, a rush that spilled with the come hither curl of his fingers, pressing his lips against the sensitive bundle of nerves above. You see the stars when your eyes flutter closed, the spill of tears that pearled in the corners of your eyes, your chest heaving to catch your breath and your thighs trembling.

His praise was low, husky. “You are so beautiful like this.”

You slowly propped yourself onto your elbows, flushed, and reached towards him, but he stopped your hand. “Next time,” Aegon promised with a cheeky grin.

You are flushed from his actions, from his words, your heart rate picking up again as Aegon climbed on top of you, nestling into the cradle of your hips. His expression was smug, his lips and chin slick, and you kissed him, hungry for him, curious of your own taste; you enjoyed the salty sweetness from the Dornish wine that mixed. His hand dipped between, lining himself with your entrance, and you sighed into his mouth.

Aegon has girth, a thickness to him that stretches your walls. You gasp, then another whine that spilled as he pushed to sheath fully within you; Aegon swallowed your cries with his kisses, his hips still to allow you to adjust to his size, checking before he began his slow rut against your hips.

You pant against his chest, your fingers digging into the twin divots on his lower back as he filled you with each thrust, a bruising pace that began to spark in front of your eyes. You cling to him with a desperation, still sensitive from your first release and flustered from the touch of his bare skin against your own.

There is the sudden emptiness when he pulled away, positioning himself on his knees, his palms wrapping around your ankles and pulling to place your feet against his chest; your hips cant up, allowing him to be swallowed by your warmth again, a guttural groan that reverberates through when you clenched.

This new angle sparked another cry, lights dancing across your eyes with his pace; he was grinning down at you, pausing to turn his head with a quick kiss to the arc of your foot, and you giggled.

His large hands moved to press onto the mattress, caging you, and he rolled his hips against your own; the wet squelch with your soft cry as he bruised within. You mewled his name when his pace quickened, pistoning his hips against.

There was the returned flutter of pleasure and Aegon lifted one hand. “Open,” and you obey, your tongue touching the pad of his thumb, swirling to coat it with your saliva. When he pulled back, a bit of spittle broke off onto your chin, and his hand dipped to press against the bloom above, his touch soft, searching.

Yours cries are unbridled at the touch of your pearl, and his satisfaction was apparent on his flushed features, his hips finding a new pace with his new ministrations. Your muscles tightened in response, your back arching against, and it comes, a tidal wave, an intensity that shudders throughout, rattling your bones beneath.

Aegon continued through your peak, his thrusts growing sloppy to chase after his own release before melting against you, with a low groan into the junction of your neck that rumbled pleasantly through you.

You both lay there in an intimate tangle of bare limbs until your breathing evened. Aegon rolled onto his side and reached to touch your hip, his lilac eyes roaming over you, admiring you. “Beautiful,” he declared, then leaned closer for a gentle kiss.

You giggled again, pulling away to clean up. Aegon allowed it, but was adamant that you remained bare, pulling you back to bed after and curling up against, his face nuzzling into your neck; your skin rose in response.

“For duty, for honor,” he murmured, moving to pull you until your head rested on his chest; his soothing scent and musk of sex now clung to the linen. “A silver haired child all the same,” and he kissed your hairline with his confession. “The twins, Maegor, I am not even certain they are mine or not, but I love them nonetheless.”

“The blood of the dragon,” you whispered, tilting your head back and allowing him to kiss you once again.

You felt a new satisfaction, a new understanding of your role within the Targaryen dynasty. The thought warmed you, I love them nonetheless, as you nestled against his chest, allowing the rise and fall to lull you to sleep.

arcie's masterlist

#hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon x you #aegon x reader #this was also inspired by the tag #aemond aemond aemond #only if for a night #update 9/27

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lunarw0rks · 7 months

Note

What about ☝🏽 angry sex with soap (afab reader) you both just woke up in the wrong foot and are in a bad day, so after yall eat dinner theres finally peace when you’re both sitting in the couch watching tv but one of you just said something then started arguing again so he just makes you shut up by giving you ONE OF THOSE kisses, and he just fucks you for hours until ur ovestimulated and cant even say ur name at that point❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

cw: no foreplay, rough/hate sex, fem!reader

ANGER MANAGEMENT | SOAP MACTAVISH

it'd be so common for you two to clash; two differing personalities, topped with a life-or-death work environment for johnny. days like that are a complete and utter mess.

sitting in silence on the couch, both of you with scowls on your face. "will you turn the tv up?" you spit out your words, not giving him the courtesy of making eye contact. it's only fair; he isn't either.

soap scoffs, "what was that? couldn't bloody hear ye over that attitude." a surge of irritation reappears when you hear his petty reply, and how it ripped open the fresh wounds of your argument that morning.

"jesus christ," you shake your head, climbing over his lap to reach the remote on his armrest. his fists clamp around your biceps, tight enough to make you struggle. you curse at him, words verbatim of the spat you had before.

with a jerk, you get jostled along the couch, until you're straddling him. despite using your entire body to climb off—you were still chest to chest—and his nails were starting to dig.

"johnny, stop being a fucking prick and—" he kisses you. violently. his tongue intrudes your mouth, effectively silencing your fury. soap lets go of your arms, but you remain in his lap, unable to resist the heated intimacy.

the jingle of his belt startles you, and you feels his fingers tugging and rustling between your legs. leaning back, you watch him shimmy his jeans down his thighs, then free his length.

apparently, wrath is his aphrodisiac of choice, because he's already rock-hard.

you don't know why or how, but his furrowed expression has you weak and unable to find excuses. before you know it, he tugs at your panties, pulling them down to get a view of your cunt.

he grips the base of his cock, lining it up with your entrance. without any warning, he grabs your hip with his other hand and pushes you downward. the stretch pinches, making you gasp in shock and dig your fingertips into his neck. "you're an asshole." you grit your teeth, only met with a harsh grip on your jaw.

"enough." johnny retorts, with the voice of a hardened sergeant and not your boyfriend. the hand on your hip pushes with more force until your pussy has swallowed his entire cock, your walls clenching with the same death grip you wish you could use on him right now.

but you can't. it's an indescribable feeling of relief after all the bickering, despite the sting of his aggressiveness. his hips start to buck upward instead of controlling your hips, yet it isn't any easier to move. acrimony bubbles in you, along with the pleasure starting to form. you hate yourself for enjoying this; letting sex become the solution.

your head sinks into the crook of his neck, unable to see past all his petty behavior. in an act of impulse, you bite into his neck — enough to make him hiss and cease his thrusts.

your axis tips, sent face first into the couch. "this what y' need? bein' fucked until you cannae see straight?" he sinks inside once more, giving no time to adjust, before he's pounding into you harder than before. one calloused hand raises your hips, while the other holds you by the back of your head, keeping your cheek pressed against the cushion.

"dirty fuckin' girl with no respect; we'll see about that, won't we?"

⋆꒷꒦‧₊˚ divider cred. - cafekitsune ˚₊‧꒦꒷⋆

#is he an asshole for this? maybe...#but he's too sexy :(#soap mactavish #soap #soap mw2 #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap x you #soap x fem reader #soap mactavish smut #soap mactavish x reader #mw2 #call of duty #task force 141 #rachel speaks #not writing #mw2 fanfic

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apothe-roses · 4 months

Text

12 Days of Smuff

Day 11: A Fancy Party & Praising

Non-canon!Aegon x Reader

Word Count: 423

Warnings: smut, oral (f receiving), infidelity (but Helaena’s cool with it), allusions to toxic family dynamics, canon divergence

Prompt created by @madmax8603. Dividers by @cafekitsune and @mykento

Disclaimer: this is a work of fanfiction. I do not own the right to the character of Aegon Targaryen

The throne room is packed to the brim with lords and ladies alike. You push your way through, muttering courtesies as you go. A flash of silver catches your eye. You turn your head, but it’s not the silver head you’re looking for.

Helaena rushes up to you.

“Thank the gods! I was hoping to find you,” Helaena rushes. “Aegon’s in the hallway to the left of the throne.”

You don’t need her to tell you the rest. He needs you. You had all but grown up in the Red Keep, becoming very close to the Targaryen siblings. When you were old enough, you became Helaena’s lady in waiting, and you started falling for Aegon.

You were surprised when Helaena approached you one day to broach the topic of becoming her husband’s mistress. She said she knew about your feelings for Aegon and his feelings for you. You asked how she knew, but she never gave you a straight answer. All she said was that Aegon was better when he got to be with you.

You push your way out of the crowd and into the hallway Helaena pointed you towards. Aegon was slumped against the wall, empty wine glass in hand.

“Aeg,” you say softly. He turns his head towards you. His eyes are red and puffy.

“Oh, Aegon.” You fold him into your arms. He sniffles into your neck.

“I’ll never be good enough for them,” he croaks. “No matter what I do.”

“You’re worth so much more than you even know.”

He suddenly turns you so you’re pinned against the wall.

“Y-so good to me,” he slurs, kissing your neck. “Wanna appreciate you.” With that, he drops to his knees.

He shoves his head under your skirts. You feel him drag your smallclothes down your legs. You spread your legs as much as you can.

He tentatively licks your folds. He’s sloppy but attentive, lapping your cunt greedily.

He finds your pearl, noticing how you moan when he give it attention. He licks it again, and you moan.

“Right there, my darling.”

He focuses his attention on your pearl, tracing circles with his tongue. You feel his fingers press into your entrance.

“So good. So so good.” You roll your hips against his mouth.

“Aegon!” You peak when his fingers find your rough patch. When you’ve come down from your high, Aegon emerges. His mouth and chin are covered in your juices.

“My good boy,” you breathe, stroking his cheek. “Now let’s get you cleaned up before we go back.”

#12 days of smuff #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii fic #aegon ii fanfic

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theclairvoyage · 24 days

Text

Centrifugation: Chapter 7

Series Masterlist

Chapter Warnings: Reader takes pain pills, somno if you squint, a bit of dacryphilia, shower sex, rough sex, a little bit of dom!Joel, lots of soft!Joel, unprotected p in v, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), fluff that'll make your teeth disintegrate, mentions of violence, reader's mom makes an appearance

WC: 6.3k

Dividers courtesy of the lovely @cafekitsune <3

Thursday, October 21st | 2131

Groggily, you wake in Joel’s dark room, air icy from his ceiling fan. You’re lying on your right side, heavily bandaged arm propped up on a pillow draped over your left. You sit up slightly and open your eyes fully, trying to accustom your tired eyes to the minimal lighting in the room. A strip of light on your left attracts you. The LED mirror light must be on in his bathroom, and the door is shut. You hear Joel’s footsteps pattering around the tile floor.

Now somewhat awake and equipped with better vision, you scan the room. His computer is stashed on the nightstand opposite the one on your side of the bed—he must’ve been working while you cozied up next to him and dozed off. You get up from the bed slowly, standing in place while your head recalibrates itself—the stars in your vision fade quickly, but your head is heavy as a rock. Joel must’ve given you one of your pain pills. You remember giving the orange bottle to him and telling him to put it where you can’t get to it—opioids are new to you, and you don’t want to risk dependence or nasty side effects.

You approach the door and tug lightly, the LED light blinding you momentarily. A fuzzy, curly-haired blur of a man turns to look at you from one of the sinks.

“Mornin’, sleepyhead,” Joel says softly. You’re cute – eyes squinting from the light, face flushed and patterned from your slumber. You’re still wearing the outfit you had on when he drove you from the hospital—baggy tee, baggy cotton shorts, patterned crew socks. He walks over to you and pulls you into a warm embrace, laying your head on his shoulder. You mumble something in response, causing him to chuckle.

“Someone’s high, eh?” he asks in a playful timbre, pulling back slightly to look at your face. Your gaze is foggy, pupils shrinking from the light as you look up at him. You smirk and let out a small whine, like a child woken up from a nap. He pulls you back in and breathes in your scent of gauze and hospital room.

“Let’s get you showered, baby,” he murmurs into your ear. You nod and lift your arms, giving him room to pull your baggy shirt over your head. The cool bathroom air licks at your nipples. He pulls down your shorts and underwear in one swoop while you lean on his arms for support. You watch him undress, the sight of his bare skin resurrecting your earlier arousal. Poor Joel has been wanting you since you teased him in the hospital room, and you can tell when you see the half-swell of his cock poking up as his boxers fight to slip over it.

He pulls you in close again, fingertips tracing patterns on your lower back. You pull your chest flush to his, pebbled nipples dragging on his skin. He leans in to kiss you—it’s slow and long, sleep still draining itself from your system and Joel keen on his promise to you from the hospital room. He’s going to make your body and mind feel good—help you start to recover from the events of yesterday.

While he was working, he watched you sleep, occasionally sneaking a hand over to stroke your temple as he recollected the events from yesterday. When Keri called him, he didn’t answer at first because the number was foreign to him—it was her frantic, mumbled voicemail that kicked his panic into overdrive. He called back immediately, needing to know if you were okay.

“Joel, she’s alright for now. That nut gashed her arm pretty good.”

“I’ll fuckin’ kill him, swear—,”

“He’s already dead. Idiot tried pulling his knife on the cops that showed up. Three bullets. All for a fucking permanent deferral.”

“Where is she? I need to—s-see her, be with her, where—,”

“Immanuel Hospital on 72nd and Sorensen. Call me when you get here, I’ll bring you up. She’s out of surgery.”

“On my way.”

Rage coursed through his belly at his reminiscence of yesterday, hands balled into trembling fists. He cried on the way to the hospital, worried that you might not wake or that some freakish sepsis accident would threaten to take you forever. Joel admits he doesn’t know much about medicine, and most of what he knows has been from Sarah’s Grey’s Anatomy binges. But he knows pain and loss—a road he couldn’t bear to travel, not with you. He had kicked himself two-fold: for letting himself get so attached so quickly, and for thinking that being attached to you like this was a bad thing. His past threatened to cloud his future, and that wasn’t an option with you in his life.

Mind snapped to the present, he puts on the cast protector he bought for you at the store and guides you into his palatial shower, steam wrapping the walls and the hum of water relaxing you instantly. You remember that there’s a large seating area in this giant ass bathhouse-disguised-as-a-shower. He sits you down and moves to redirect the flow of the two showerheads, so the streams hit your feet and legs. You lean back against the tiled wall, and he kneels in front of you. His hair is wet, but not quite drenched, droplets cascading down his tendrils and the bridge of his curved nose.

“I’m so happy you’re alright, sweetheart… wanna make you feel good,” he coos, leaning into place soft kisses on your neck and collarbone. You sigh and arch your chest into his mouth, craving his attention and devotion, a warm envelope you need to be sheathed in. His mouth moves down to your breast and licks the swell before swirling his tongue up to your nipple, mouth closing over the bud softly.

There are no teeth, no lingering marks as he continues his trail down your curves—just a man selflessly (sort of) pouring his affection for you on your body, hoping to make the day after one of the worst days of your life a better one. You card the fingers of your free hand through his wet hair as he descends to your navel, the only sounds being the steady stream of water and wet attention of his mouth echoing throughout the shower. He reaches your mound and you let out a low, long sigh. He spreads your thighs apart further and scoots down, hooking his forearms around your hips as he pulls you down slightly. You’re forced to use your good arm to prop yourself up. Now panting, you look down at him, water droplets from the condensing steam blurring your vision.

“You want this, baby?” he asks, beaming up at you from the apex of your thighs. Is he asking if you want him to continue, or if you want him? Either way, you nod feverishly.

“Tell me,” He pleads, licking up your inner thigh as his eyes are still locked on yours.

You whine in response. “Need you, Joel—all of you, please,” you beg quietly.

He places a wet, open-mouthed kiss on your cunt, and you cry softly, back arching and head tilting back. He groans into you, the sound and taste of you making his cock twitch. His tongue swirls over your clit and he sucks lightly. You gasp, the pressure setting your nerves ablaze. He continues slowly, alternating between flat licks—your favorite—and soft suckles of your clit. His tongue is strong and firm, soft and sweet all at once. You’re moaning his name as he continues licking you, each flick of his tongue casting more sparks in the inferno that is your orgasm—one that grows quickly. He’s moaning as he eats you out, only pulling away to tell you how good you taste, how wet you are, how much he enjoys doing this to you. He slides two fingers through your slick and pumps them into you languidly, fully intending to drag this out until you’re screaming.

“Oh, Joel, fuckfuckfuck—feels so good,” you pant, syllables coming out as heavy breaths. He groans into your core again, delighted to hear your feedback. He’s so fucking turned on by the taste, smell, sound, and look of you as he gives you raw pleasure, and he reaches a hand down to stroke himself. You notice the loss of his free hand on your thigh, his other hand still pummeling into you. You’re close—your quick huffs and intensifying moans let Joel know, too. Your pussy is squeezing his fingers so tightly that he has trouble pulling them back out. The edge is near, and you frantically rut your hips against his mouth and nose as you chase your high. Joel swears he could come right then and there, but before he can think of it further, you let out a wail and your legs spasm uncontrollably. Your orgasm is intense, strong leg muscles clasping around his head and neck. He’s not done, though—his tongue and fingers don’t slow until your hand is pulling his hair, coaxing him up to your mouth for a wet, messy kiss.

“Want you inside me, Joel,” you heave, looking at him with lust-blown pupils. He doesn’t need to be told twice.

“Stand up,” he commands. As soon as you do, his firm hands grasp your hips and rotate you so you’re facing the tile wall of the shower. Joel presses down on your back, urging your top half down. He rubs his hands up and down the landscape of your back, admiring the curve of your waist juxtaposed with your hips.

“Fuckin’ beautiful—tell me you’re mine,” he growls, hand fisting in your hair and pulling. You whine roughly, the upward crane of your neck compressing your vocal cords.

“Yes, Joel, fuck—I’m yours,” you cry, turned on by his dominance. He releases your hair and guides himself to your center, the swollen head of his cock gathering slick in your folds before slowly pressing into you.

“Shit—ah!” you cry, his cock at this angle nearly splitting you in half. He continues digging into you, and your breath is stuck in your chest, only coming out in sparse squeaks as he expands your walls. He grips your ass hard and spreads you open for him, salivating at the way your pussy grips and creams him. When he finally bottoms out, your vision blanks momentarily. Your organs feel shifted, like he’s quite literally rearranging your guts.

“Y’alright, babygirl? Is it too much?” he asks, a hand smoothing up and down your back as he waits for your cue to move. Your right hand is stuck to the wall, your forehead pressed against it for support as you try to regain your breath and relax your muscles. “Need to hear you’re alright,” he reminds you.

“Please move, Joel—oh!” the end of your sentence a response to the sudden removal of his cock. He pushes the tip into you again, slowly, hissing as you grip him.

“Ohhhh, baby—so goddamn tight,” he groans, and with no warning, he slams into you fully. Eyes rolling back into your head, you scream, overwhelmed by the sharp pain and pleasure of his entrance. He continues this punishing pace—out slowly, tip in, bam. You don’t even feel the dull ache of your arm anymore, only the delicious stretch of his cock and the painful aftershocks of his tip careening into your cervix. Hell, you might even bleed from this, how rough this sex is, but it feels so fucking good—his ravaging your body, hands squeezing your ass and hips so tightly you’ll bruise, him spitting your name and various expletives—you don’t want it to stop. It’s like he’s punishing you for not-quite-almost-dying, overcome by the emotions of what happened to you and seeing you broken but alive. Like he’s making sure you are alive.

“Perfect fuckin’ pussy,” he cries, thrusts losing their mojo and growing erratic as you continue to grip and soak him. “Baby, I’m close—need another one from you,” he pleads, hand grabbing your wrist to keep your torso up.

“Faster, Joel, please, I’m there—,” you moan. He obliges, and five quick thrusts in, the world bleeds white and your body fades into euphoric oblivion. Your ears are ringing, vision blank, body in overdrive from the sheer pleasure and intensity of your orgasm—you can’t hear him curse and groan as he comes inside you, breath knocking through his teeth as he spits your name. You feel his warm chest fold over your back, feel his soft lips and tongue on your shoulder, neck, ear, and when he turns you around so he can kiss you, you finally regain your hearing. The spray of water and your breaths are a noticeable contrast to the skin slapping and loud cries from just moments ago. The kiss is passionate, soft, slow, like he’s trying to tell you something—you can feel how much he cares for you in the way his arms embrace you, the way his lips revere your skin. He pulls back and looks at you with that… look. Again.

“Seein’ you come is somethin’ else—never seen anything like that,” he admits, eyes boring into you. You feel yourself suddenly become shy, his praise chipping down stone walls you have built inside. He kisses your forehead.

“C’mon, lemme wash you up,” he says, leading you to one of the showerheads. He washes your hair with some of Sarah’s shampoo that was here last time—his long fingers massage your scalp with perfect pressure and rhythm. You might fall asleep right here, fucked-out and exhausted from the pain meds filtering through your system. He rubs body wash over you, making sure to get all the crevices, and pulls some giggles from you in the process. You want to wash him in return, prove you’re not totally useless with your arm wrapped up in the cast cover. He picks up his shampoo and opens the lid, and you hold your right hand out.

“Y’sure, baby?” he asks, wet hair covering his face and eyes. He looks so handsome like this—curls dripping on his face, chest, and neck, squinting at you so he can see.

“Let me. Please.” He nods and squirts soap into your palm and a little more on his scalp. You do your best to massage his scalp with your free hand, but your arm gets tired fast.

“Sit down, Joel,” you offer. He prods over to the seating area, giving you a full view of his cute butt. You smack it lightly and laugh.

“Watch it, sweetheart—I ain’t got the energy to chase ya,” he warns, smirk on his face and eyes playful. He sits, eye level at your chest. He’s staring at you, hard. You’re trying not to get flustered, but his intense gaze is not helping.

“Close your eyes, babe,” you command softly. He smiles at you calling him that.

“Can’t look at my girl while she washes my hair?” he says. My girl. You ignore the fluttering of your heart.

“Nope, I have stage fright. Shut ‘em,” he rolls his eyes and obliges.

You work your fingers into his scalp, noticing how entranced he is by your touch. It’s nice—domestic, almost. Once you’re done with his hair, you walk back over to grab his body wash and massage his shoulders, chest, and back, pulling some moans and groans from him. Eyes still clamped shut, you lead him back to one of the shower heads and help him rinse. You watch his muscles flex as he rinses his hair, and you wrap your arms around his midsection when he’s done. He’s quick to return the favor, fingers gently rubbing the muscles of your shoulders and upper back. You two stand there for a moment before he leans in to kiss you gently.

“You’re so good to me, baby,” he murmurs, smoothing your wet hair back.

“Me? I think you have me confused with yourself,” you say, surprised. “You’re the one taking care of me.” He scoffs.

“You don’t realize what you’re doin’ to me, darlin’—just you bein’ here is takin’ care of me,” he says, tone sounding almost afflicted. You’re almost caught off guard by his affectionate words. He’s doing that thing again, trying to tell you something without saying it explicitly. His amber eyes are glowing at you. He’s happy. You believe him, that just being here with him is enough.

Fuck. You clamp your lips together, making sure you don’t say something you’ll regret and kiss him instead.

“Been in here long enough, you hungry?” he says, pulling away after a bit. You nod.

“Let’s eat and do whatever ya want—watch a movie, anything,” he offers, leaving your embrace to turn off the shower heads.

He helps dry you off and leads you downstairs. You insisted on wearing his clothes, again, which he couldn’t complain about. You decided on watching some Netflix, needing to distract your brain with some trash TV. Joel makes popcorn and gives you a big glass of water as he snuggles up next to you on the leather couch, throwing a big fleece blanket over both of you. The couch is fancy, of course—it’s a three-part sectional, and each section can recline almost completely horizontal. He lets you scroll through Netflix aimlessly for a few minutes before snatching the remote from you.

“Hey! I was just getting to the good stuff,” you complain playfully. He tsks at you.

“Takin’ too long, pretty girl—when Sarah does this, I know we’re about to watch somethin’ cringy,” he says, finally picking NCIS. He’s never watched this before.

“Season 8, Joel,” you direct him. You’ve seen most of these episodes at least twice. He picks a random episode and leans forward to put the remote on the coffee table in front of your feet before sinking back into the couch with you. The theme song starts playing and you immediately bob your head from side to side—it’s so catchy, you probably do it every time it plays. Joel looks down at you and laughs.

“Take it you’re a dancer, then?” he asks.

“Depends on the type of dancing. Not a square dancer, that’s for sure,” you say with a playful snub, knowing already that that’s the only dancing Joel does. He feigns offense, mouth dropping open.

“That’ll change, baby – I can guarantee you that,” he says with a smirk.

“Fine, but then you have to go to a club with me—only fair,” you challenge him, shrugging matter-of-factly. He raises his eyebrows at you, expression saying this girl is losing her shit.

“They have an age limit, darlin’,” he lies, one side of his mouth stuck in a half-smile. You smack his arm playfully.

“They’d only know how old you are if you showed them your ID,” you remind him. He scoffs and points to his greying curls. “They’d see these and know immediately.”

“What, your hair or your perpetual scowl?” you tease, finger rubbing the wrinkles in his forehead. He emits a loud, guttural laugh and grabs your hand, giving it a quick kiss before he releases it.

“Fuckin’ comedian over here, god damn,” he says, chuckling and shaking his head. “Eat your damn popcorn before I shove it in your mouth,” he warns jokingly. You’re in a goofy mood.

“Shove what in my mouth, Joel?” you tease, eyes glued to the TV. His breath hitches for a moment and you see him lean toward you in your peripheral vision. His lips rustle the hair by your ear, making you shiver.

“Don’t get me started, baby—you know how much I love your pretty mouth,” he rasps in your ear, Southern accent laced with a lusty warning. Your core tingles and your face heats up. You’re not exactly sure what it is about him that does this to you, but you’d let him have his way with you anywhere, anytime. He kisses your temple and pulls you into him as the episode continues. He sneaks a hand up your shirt and rubs your back, the warmth and comfort lulling you to sleep.

Friday, October 22nd | 0643

The sound of skin sliding on leather pulls you from slumber. You’re on Joel’s couch, snuggling into his warm chest. He must’ve turned over on the couch, causing the noise—his shirt has ridden up just enough for you to see his happy trail cascading into his boxers. The couch is reclined all the way down, forming a makeshift bed in his living room. You must’ve fallen asleep, and you bet Joel was too tired to carry you up to his room—there was no way he was going to try and wake you. You tighten your grip on him and take in his scent—cotton, sandalwood, spice. His body wash mixed with clean laundry. You could lie here forever, but he’s a light sleeper and notices you’re awake.

“S’early, baby—go back to sleep,” he says, eyes still shut and voice grumbly from sleep. You giggle softly.

“What are you, Father Time? You haven’t even opened your eyes yet,” you tease. He chuckles and pulls you on top of him, your head still tucked into the nook of his neck. His warm hands slide under your shirt and scan your back softly.

“Don’t need to, I know it’s before 7,” he murmurs. His sleep-soaked voice is enough to arouse you right now—raspy, deep, sexy. You’re tired, though, and your arm aches. You roll off him and sit up, wincing audibly at the throbbing of your arm.

“Need medicine?” he asks you, leaning over to put his head in your lap. You smooth a hand through his stubble and admire him, sleepy eyes struggling to peek at you. Soft morning light outlines his cheekbones, nose, and chin. He’s quick to tell you how beautiful you are, but he’s a stunner in his own right. You brush some stray curls from his face and stroke his cheek with your thumb. A soft mmm escapes his throat as he leans his head into your touch.

“Don’t wanna get up,” you whisper, still staring at him. Finally, he opens his eyes and deep chocolate stares back at you. His gaze is longing, tired, happy.

“Kiss me,” he pleads softly, placing a warm hand over yours, still busy caressing his face. You oblige and lean down to press your lips softly to his. Neither of you try to deepen it just yet—you’re both cherishing these softer, more domestic moments between the two of you. Your lips are communicating what your words can’t just yet—but you both understand. After a while, your arm starts bothering you again, prickles of pain dancing up your arm to your shoulder. You pull away and start massaging your shoulder with your free hand.

“Yeah, y’need your medicine, baby. Hang tight,” he says, rolling off your lap and standing up from the couch. Your soft kisses clearly drove him crazy—there’s a tent in his boxers. He catches you staring at it and smirks at you.

“Once you’re feelin’ better, it’s all yours,” he says with a tired wink. Fuck. You already know you’re wet and ready for him. This man is so good to you in all ways, you can’t tell if your arousal is from seeing him turned on, or from the way he cares for you.

He grabs the now-empty glass of water from the coffee table and pads into the kitchen to retrieve your pills from their hiding spot. He comes back, glass full and half a pill in hand. You pop the pill onto the back of your tongue and chug until the glass is half empty.

“Good girl,” Joel praises as he watches you. His words make you choke a bit and you sputter, some water spilling out of your mouth. He laughs and leans in, kissing the drops of water leaking down your chin and neck. He continues kissing down your neck, pulling your collar down so his lips and teeth can graze your collarbone and top of your chest. Your body responds quickly, breaths quickening and pussy throbbing.

“Darlin’, I don’t know if I can wait. I want you,” he says, pulling back to look in your eyes. He looks fucking wrecked again.

“Fuck me, Joel,” you plead, staring back at him. His eyes widen slightly, then flash with mischief and lust.

Suddenly, your sweats and panties are gone in one swoop, tossed into a pile on the floor with his boxers. He’s slotted between your legs, tongue licking into your mouth ravenously. He pulls back and rubs the head of his cock on your clit, watching your slick coat him with a moan.

“Fuck, baby— ‘s’all this for me?” he groans.

“Yes—all of it. Need you, Joel,” you whine impatiently, craving him inside you. Your clit is on fire from his teasing and you’re dripping for him.

“Okay, okay. I got you, angel,” he soothes. He pulls your shirt up over your breasts, leaning down to suck one of your needy nipples into his mouth. You gasp at the sensation. It’s not enough, though—you need him to fill you up. Now. You reach down with your good hand and tug on his curls, pulling his mouth up to yours. He moans as your lips mesh with his and he lines his cock up at your entrance. He pulls back to watch where your bodies meet and groans as he slowly enters you.

You gasp again at the stretch, still not used to his size and girth. Your eyes attempt to squeeze shut, but you remember how much he likes seeing your eyes and try your best to keep them open. Salty tears sting as they well up in your eyes.

“Good girl, baby, shit—I love those beautiful eyes,” he croons. He fills you to the hilt and pauses, feeling your pussy contract around him. His neck is flushed, veins popping out—he’s trying so hard not to let go and just fuck you senseless. You want him to, though. You reach up and touch his cheek. He looks down at you, surprised.

“Take what you want, Joel,” you tell him. He turns his head to kiss your palm.

“Not yet. Need you to come for me first,” he says, slowly pulling out of you, eyes still locked on yours. He presses himself flush to you and cradles your head in his hands. Your fingernails are glued to his broad, strong back, digging half-moons into his skin. He starts a quick and hard rhythm of thrusting in and out of you, pulling deep moans from you every time he bottoms out. The pressure and stretching are so intense, it feels like your body is incapable doing anything except gripping Joel’s back muscles, staring into his amber eyes, and taking his hard thrusts. Your chest and stomach tighten, breaths escaping at quick intervals. You’re at a point now where you can’t make much else noise—the pleasure is stealing the air from your lungs. You’re close. He knows it—but needs to hear it from you.

“Tell me, darlin’—tell me how it feels,” he urges, eyes squeezing shut as you clamp down on him.

“Feels so good, Joel,” you finally huff. He growls and slots his lips onto yours, sucking on your bottom lip as he pulls back.

“Perfect as fuck,” he curses, trying to maintain rhythm. You’re squeezing him so tight and you’re so wet, he won’t last much longer. He licks his fingertips and reaches down to rub your clit in circles that correspond with the timing of his thrusts.

“Oh, god!” you cry out, shockwaves of pleasure reverberating through your body.

“C’mon, baby—come for me,” he pleads, watching your facial expressions as you approach orgasm. He swipes his fingers around your clit a few more times and your world shatters. Your vision fades to black as you climax. He continues to fuck you through it, slowing his pace as he praises you. That’s it, baby girl. Fuck, you’re beautiful. Best pussy ever. You’re so fucked out, you don’t even register when he cries out your name and latches his mouth on one of your nipples as he empties himself inside you. He lies his head on your chest and rests on you for a moment before pulling out of you and standing up to throw his boxers back on. You grunt at the loss.

“Shit… can’t keep my fuckin’ hands off you,” he says, panting and staring down at you as he pushes some stray curls off his sweaty forehead. Your breasts are still exposed, nipples taut from the cool air. Red marks from his mouth dot your chest, droplets of sweat gathered in the middle. His eyes swipe down your figure and continue their admiration. Your mound is covered in short stubble—you haven’t shaved in a while, with everything going on. Joel looks forward to it scraping his face the next time he tastes you. You’re watching him stare, a smirk creeping on your face.

“Take a picture,” you offer, winking at him. His eyes widen and he chuckles, shaking his head. “I’d never be able to stop lookin’ at it—might get me fired.”

“Well, the offer still stands. Expiration date is never,” you say with a sly smile. His eyes rake over your body once more and he whistles before going into the kitchen to find a towel to clean you up. You pull your phone up from the coffee table and check the time. 0716. Still early.

“D’y’want coffee, darlin’? Or d’y’wanna go back to sleep?” he asks as he wipes up your thighs. You shrug. It’s not like you have anything pressing to do today. He walks back into the kitchen and starts a pot of coffee. You stand up slowly and put your panties and sweats back on, stretching once you’re fully clothed again. Joel calls out to you from the kitchen.

“Got ya somethin’,” he says. You make your way to him, yawning and rubbing your eyes. You look on the counter and see a stainless steel frother, humming softly as it spins around some half and half. You smile and pull Joel into a hug, kissing his neck as you embrace.

“Thank you—you’re so thoughtful,” you whisper. His hands rub your back, and he turns his head to kiss you chastely.

“Anything for my girl,” he whispers back, soft brown eyes flicking between yours. His eyes are so emotive—he’s always telling you so many things simultaneously. Even though it’s been a short time since you’ve known him, you know that he does love you. He wouldn’t ever need to say it out loud—the eyes would always let you know. He kisses you again before releasing you from his embrace.

“So… coffee and sleep. That’s what I choose,” you tell him as you get mugs out for both of you from the cabinet. He laughs softly and takes a seat at the kitchen table. “Sounds good t’me—gotta do some work later, but I got all day for that. Y’want me to arrange have your car brought here? I know y’can’t drive yet, but I don’t want you to feel like you’re trapped… Y’got the garage code and can come and go whenever you need to, darlin’,” he says, watching you bring the mugs over to the table. He looks apprehensive, worried—like part of him thinks he’s suffocating you. You frown at him as you set them down.

“I’m in no hurry to be anywhere, Joel, but you can have it brought here. I really appreciate you taking care of me, seriously,” you say as you sit down across from him, reaching to embrace his forearm in a reassuring manner. “I don’t plan on driving until I’m done with these pain meds, anyway—my first psych appointment isn’t until next week.” He nods and reaches for his mug, eyes never leaving you as he takes a sip. He sets his mug down and laces his fingers with yours, eyes still blazing into yours.

“Just wanna make sure y’got everything y’need, baby,” he says softly. He brings your hand up to his lips and kisses the back of it tenderly. His phone rings from the other side of the kitchen, interrupting your sweet moment. He apologizes and releases your hand as he stands to go find his phone. He picks it up and stares at the caller ID.

“Sarah,” he mouths, showing you the screen. You nod. He walks into the living room and answers with a “Hi, sweetheart.” You grin at his greeting. He’s a sweet man who loves his daughter—and you, clearly, given the fact that he also greets you the same way. They chat for a bit, and it reminds you to check your phone for any notifications. Your mom has called about a dozen times. Fuck. She’s probably listed as your emergency contact, so no doubt the hospital called her after the incident. You decide it’s probably best to call her back and let her know you’re okay. She picks up after the first ring.

“Thank goodness you’re alright,” she exasperates, voice clearly panicked.

“Hey, Mom. Yeah, I’m good. Crazy donor came back to get his vengeance,” you say with a sarcastic tone. To your surprise, she laughs.

“I hear you got some stitches—are you alright? Is anyone helping take care of you? I can drive down and h—,” she stammers quickly. You interrupt in a calm voice.

“I’m okay, Mom, really. I had fourteen stitches and yes, I am being well taken care of,” you promise her, choosing your words carefully and peering over to Joel. She’s going to ask anyway.

“By whom? Anybody from work?” You swallow nervously and prepare to tell her the truth. Wait, why am I scared? I’m an adult—she can’t do anything.

“No, actually… I sort of have a boyfriend, and he’s been taking care of me,” you reply, voice slightly hesitant. The line is quiet for a few seconds.

“Oh—boyfriend? I had no idea. Hopefully he’s a nice young man,” she says. You smirk. Young man. She’ll find out eventually.

“It’s fairly new, but yes—he is awesome. Met him at work. He has a contracting business here in Omaha,” you add, careful not to add too much information.

“Wow—successful, then. Hopefully you bring him out here to meet everyone,” she says, clearly surprised. You feel your cheeks turning hot at the prospect of Joel meeting your crazy family.

“Yep. He’s going to come with me to visit Grandma at the beginning of November.”

“Ah, good. So, you have dates? I’ll let your aunt and the hospice home know in advance. Do you know where you are staying?”

“November 1st through the 8th, I believe. And no—not yet. Might just find an Airbnb out there,” you add cautiously. You don’t want to stay with her—she’d probably make you and Joel sleep in separate rooms.

“Well, you’re welcome to stay here or at Grandma’s—I’m sure the place needs some tidying up, but nobody is there now. I go out each week to make sure everything is in order,” she says. That’s not a bad idea. Your grandma has a nicely sized farmhouse. The animals have long been gone since your grandpa passed, but the scenery is gorgeous. And—you and Joel would have the house to yourself.

“Maybe we’ll do that. Joel can probably fix up some things around the house, too,” you offer, realizing after the fact that you shared his name with your mom.

“That would be lovely, and your grandmother would appreciate that. The house will have to be put up for sale at some point, I would assume,” she says. You see Joel come back into the kitchen out of the corner of your eye. You turn and look at him, and he gives a questioning thumbs up and raises his eyebrows at you. You close your eyes and give him a quick close-lipped grin and nod.

“Sounds good. Well, I gotta get going, but I’ll see you soon,” you tell her lightheartedly, hoping you don’t sound eager to get off the phone with her.

“Okay, dear. You let me know how you’re recovering, alright? I worry,” she adds, tone stern but caring.

“I will. Bye, Mom,” you say, hanging up after she parrots her goodbye to you. Joel comes over to the table and starts rubbing your shoulders as you set your phone down.

“Sounds like a civil conversation,” he croons, leaning down by your earlobe. His velvety voice tickles your eardrum and sends goosebumps down your neck and arm. He kisses the soft skin anterior to your tragus and continues working his mouth down your jawline and neck. You moan softly and reach up to grip his hair. He growls at your noise and touch.

“Hmm… reckon we’re teenagers, eh?” he says into your ear, deep voice muddled with lust. “Can’t go two fuckin’ seconds without you makin’ me hard as a rock, sweetheart.” He sucks your earlobe into his mouth with a quiet moan, and your stomach drops with excitement. He stops kissing you abruptly and stands up straight, adjusting himself in his boxers. You turn and look at him inquisitively, raising one eyebrow. He grins—he loves that he does this to you, makes you squirm and lust for him just like he does for you.

“Soon, baby. Y’need to get some rest. Sarah is coming up tomorrow ‘n’ I want you to meet her.” Your stomach flips. You’re not nervous that she won’t like you or that you won’t have much in common, but this is a big step in your relationship with Joel. You puff out a deep breath.

“I’m in no condition for visitors, I’m afraid,” you say sarcastically, lifting your bandaged arm. He spits out a laugh.

“I’ll make sure you’re in tip-top shape, baby girl. Promise,” he says with a wink. Yeah… you believe him.

Taglist: @burntheedges, @syd-djarin, @anoverwhelmingdin <3

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #centrifugation #pedro pascal fandom

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lanterns-and-daydreams · 19 days

Text

✨INTRODUCTION ✨

Hello, love! Welcome to my blog!

Name: 8-1-13-14-1-8

(Hint: corresponding letter!)

Age: O

(Hint: corresponding number!)

Favourite color: Blood Red and Emerald Green

Current occupation: Grayson Hawthorne's wife <3

Pronouns: she/her

I love-> reading, drawing, listening to music, poetry, writing stories, glitter, cats (my favourite breed are ragamuffins), cat memes, Grayson Hawthorne, Cardan Greenbriar, puzzles, riddles, mysteries in general, sunsets, sunrises, forests, the smell of books, pens, paper, violins, ballerinas, stars, the moon, creepypasta, anything related to space and a lot, LOT, more

Some facts about me:

I hate mushy foods

I know a lot of useless facts about random things

I refuse to approach new people but end up doing it anyway because I can't telepathically make them talk to me first

My favourite word is Decay (🔪)

I wanna learn how to play the violin and the piano

I wanna learn how to do the waltz and ballet

I really like photography

I can do traditional dances

Im Pakistani

It makes me very happy when cats look at me

I have licked copper sulphate before

No, i didnt go to the hospital

I love sweets and red velvet cake

I wanna live in Edinburgh

I can slay a winged eyeliner and I'm proud of it

I love mehndi (henna)

I love painting my nails

I can speak Urdu, English, Sindhi, and Punjabi and a lil bit of Spanish

Books I've read: The Folk of the Air series, The Inheritance Games series, Legacy of gods, Throne of Glass series, the grishaverse, the cat and mouse duet, City of Bones series, How to Kill a Mockingbird, Twilight, The Song of Achillies, Red, White and Royal Blue, Percy Jackson, Heroes of Olympus, Trials of Apollo, Camp Jupiter Classified, The Silent Patient, Once Upon A Broken Heart, The Hunger Games, and many many more

Books I'm going to read: A good girl's guide to murder, The Darkverse, Light lark, Powerless, Caraval series, The Empyrean series, Immortal Dark, I Fell In Love With Hope, every other Rinaverse book, Zodiac Academy, Shatter Me and a bajillion more <3

Tagging:

@never-enough-novels (Bhaavya, my first mutual and one of my best and favourite friends <3. Ilysm, girl)

@hearthown (Vivi, my absolute favourite person, I love your blog, and I love that we're friends. My other best and favourite friend. Ilysm <3)

@shuhuaspookie (ARIA ILYSM YOURE ADORABLE AND I ENJOY OUR TALKS AND I LOVE WHEN YOU TELL ME ABOUT YOUR DAY AND I HOPE WE STAY FRIENDS FOR A LOOOONGGGG TIME. LOVE YOUR CAT MEMES)

@f4iry-bell (SNI, DARLING, IT'S SO FUN TALKING TO YOU AHHHHHHH. LOVE THAT IM YOUR POOKIE, YOURE ALSO ONE OF MY FAV MUTUALS)

@berryzxx (mf ur fics are live laugh love. First muslim moot, Ilysmmmmm)

@ilov3b00kss0much (Sunny, hi! It's so nice knowing you, and I would love to get to know you more!)

Additionally: Hajirah! Hi! Can't tag you, but I would also love to get to know you more! Absolutely love that you reached out to me

Tagging people I'd like to get to know/get to know better:

@lyrakanefanatic @reminiscentreader @sophiesonlinediary @reyna-obsessed @mafiasliege @x-liv25 @riddles-n-games @nqds @ilyiwdtpyiwmyhmtkys @pink-mask-06

Divider: courtesy of @cafekitsune

#Intro post

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rinneverse · 2 years

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ❝ YOUR #1 INTERNET ANGEL — OAK! ❞

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ twennie ⋆ any prns ⋆ se!asian! ๋࣭ ⭑⚝ aki hayakawa's dream girl, aventurine's lucky charm, && boothill’s partner in crime!! 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ๋ ࣭ ⭑ [ SEMI-HIATUS! ]

DO YOU LOVE ME? —

ㅤೀ.ᐟ⭒๋࣭ ⭑ about me. ┊ rules. ┊ masterlist. ┊ tag index. ┊the garden.┊ ao3. ┊ @nereidsrealm ✧ ·.༄࿔

[ WARNING! ] this blog is NSFW and DC FRIENDLY! MINORS and BLANK/AGELESS blogs DNI — please have your age in bio before interacting !! ( ˊᵕˋ )♡.°⑅

[ ෆ ] RECENTLY ON RINNEVERSE...

🧷 bad idea (itadori yuuji x f!reader) ♡! 🧷 wriothesley comfort drabble (wriothesley x gn!reader) ♡! [ NEW! ] 🧷 don't you trust me? (ongoing sampo series) ♡!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ— I LOOOVE LOVE LOVE YOU! ♡

IT'S ALL OVER IF YOU GET BORED OF ME... AND I DON'T WANT TO DIE YET!!

#blog est. 07.31.22.#oak.navi✩#like this post for a kith :*#dividers courtesy of @cafekitsune !!#if u do not include ur age somewhere easily accessible on ur blog im blocking u :tomato:

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kpop-stories-21 · 6 months

Text

Blood & Fire

Group: ATEEZ

Pairing: Jongho x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Rating: 18-21+

Genres, Tropes, & AUs: Non-Idol AU, Vampire AU, Demon AU, Childhood friends to lovers, Smut, Horror

Content & Trigger Warnings: Demon King!Jongho, Vampire!Reader, dark content, blood, violence, minor character death, brief mention of dismemberment, pet names/nicknames, unprotected sex(wrap that shit up kids), dom/sub dynamics, dom!Jongho, sub!Reader, subspace, little bit of manhandling, biting, blood drinking, blood play, belly bulge, Reader calls Jongho "Master"

Summary: You'd heard many things about the King of the Demons. What you didn't know was that he was searching for a Queen, and he was dead-set on having no one but you.

General tags: @kpop---scenarios @stardragongalaxy @jeonrose @skittlez-area512 @mybiasisexo @biaswreckingfics @anyamaris @trashlord-007 @liliesofdreamsskz @rdiamond2727 @naturalogre @bxffietheblxxdy Special tags: @starlitmark @yoonguurt @twisted-tales-of-all @yourfatherlucifer ATEEZ tags: @lovelyhange @spicyseonghwas

If you want to be added to my taglist, click here

Network pings: @cacaokpop-fics | @kdiarynet | @cultofdionysusnet

MDNI banner, divider, and support banner courtesy of @cafekitsune

A/N: This is my entry in the Atiny Halloween Project and was written for @kpopidolsangel Hi Angel! I tried to incorporate as many of your likes as fit the idea I came up with and I hope you like the final product. Also this was my first time writing dom/sub so apologies if it's lacking a bit. Happy Halloween!!! Big thanks to Haru(@stardragongalaxy ) & Ki(@kwanisms ) who helped me figure out Jongho's nicknames for the Reader

Event Masterlist | Main Masterlist

"Excuse me?!" You bellowed, gaping at the armour-clad Demons standing in your doorway with open shock & anger.

The female who seemed to be the Captain of the group scowled at you, unhappy at having to repeat herself. "You are being summoned to the Demon's capitol city Hraezyrkas, as the Demon King wishes to discern if you are a suitable match to be his Queen."

"Why is he looking among the Vampires? Surely a Demon would make a better Queen." It was a valid question, as Vampires and Demons were not on the friendliest of terms.

"I would not presume to know. That is a question you would do better to ask the King himself." The soldier replied, her lips twisting into a disgusted sneer.

"Must I come right now, or do I have time to put on more suitable clothing?"

"So long as you are there before sunset, you may take time to prepare yourself."

Letting out a tense breath, you relented, seeing no other path than to do as you were asked. Opening your door fully, you allowed the demons inside. "You can wait here while I get ready."

Once in the privacy of your room, you took a moment to let things fully sink in. You'd heard many things about the Demon King, from visceral accounts of his prowess in battle to his uproarious temper when things didn't go as planned.

Something deep inside said there was a reason he had called for you instead of choosing a Demon, and so you decided to go all out and dress to kill - not literally of course. If seduction was the name of the game, then you were one of the best at said game.

Searching through your wardrobe, you settled on a sleeveless dress with a black lace bodice and a flowing blood red skirt. For jewelry you choose a wide black lace choker with gold accents, matching chunky gold earrings, a few thin gold bracelets, and a headpiece of blood red roses with golden leaves. You ran a brush through your long dark brown curls before setting the headpiece in place, then slipped on some black heels and stood before your full-length mirror to assess your appearance.

"Damn." You muttered, suppressing a smile. "I look good."

Turning toward the door, you took one last calming breath, then made your way back downstairs.

Upon seeing you, the Demon soldiers stood without a word and ordered themselves around you: two behind, two in front, and the Captain a few paces ahead. Outside of the town a carriage was waiting, presumably for you. Two soldiers climbed into the driving seat, the other two stood on the back and the Captain seated herself opposite you inside the carriage. With a jerk, the wheels beneath you began to roll.

The ride to Hraezyrkas was not as long as you were expecting, only three-and-a-half hours. You hadn't realized before how close you were to the border. The carriage stopped and the Captain disembarked to help you step out. Looking up, you felt your jaw drop at the magnificent sight before you.

The castle was huge, made entirely of smooth obsidian dripping with molten lava and dotted all over with obsidian gargoyles. The brightness of the lava reflected off the seamless black, making the entire building seem to glow in such a way that it rivalled the sun.

You didn't get to see much of the inside, as you were hurried through room after room until you came upon the throne room. The doors were solid slabs of obsidian inlaid with a shimmering mix of rubies, fire opals, and deep orange citrines. They swung open soundlessly despite how heavy they looked, and you found yourself at the start of a long hallway lined with a plush red carpet. At the far end was a tall throne made of black garnet shot through with glowing veins of lava, and seated in it was the Demon King.

Even from so far away you could feel the aura of power emanating from him, and a tiny seed of nervousness planted itself in your mind. Could you really handle what came next if he chose you? You were banking on your confidence putting him off, but what if it didn’t? Guess I’m about to find out.

Taking a brief moment to gather yourself, you strode down the carpet toward the throne. As you got closer, his features came into sharp focus and you felt your heart do a funny little jump in your chest. He was hot, almost unnervingly so. Glowing golden eyes assessed your approach from beneath dark red hair, bangs casually swept to one side. His tanned skin glowed a rich gold in the light of the lava surrounding him. Ebony horns curled upward gracefully, several smaller branch-offs draped with gold chains and many dangling charms of fiery crystals that made them look fancy and intricate. And yet beneath all that, there was something almost…familiar about him, as if you knew him from somewhere else even though that was pretty much impossible.

When you were close enough to speak without raising your voice, the Captain stopped you. “Your Majesty, Hwang Y/N is here as you requested. Miss Hwang, I introduce to you Choi Jongho, King of the Demons.”

You bit your lip, struggling to hide your surprise. Surely this wasn’t the same Choi Jongho you were friends with from childhood to mid-teens, back when Vampires and Demons could co-exist peacefully. This regal man before you was so far removed from the sweet, adorable Demon boy you remembered; there was no way they were the same. But the familiarity that had caught your attention before kept nagging at you, saying that maybe this was the Jongho you used to be friends with.

Remembering suddenly where you were, you bowed low. “Well met, Your Majesty.” You greeted, crimson eyes scanning his features critically.

“Well met, Miss Hwang.” He replied, returning the greeting without any hint that he recognized you. Either he was extremely good at hiding his emotions, or your mind was just playing tricks on you this whole time.

“You and your soldiers are dismissed, Captain.” The Captain nodded and saluted, the other soldiers repeating her actions before following her out.

Once the two of you were alone, you watched as his stiff posture relaxed and the coldness in his eyes thawed. A wide smile bloomed on his face, and you could no longer say that you didn’t know him. Still a bit tentative, you spoke quietly.

“Jongho? Is it really you?”

The smile widened and he nodded vigorously.

“H-How did you even find me?”

Jongho chuckled and stood from his throne, stepping slowly closer as he spoke. “When the tension between Vampires and Demons began to grow, my family came back here, but my parents kept in touch with yours over the years. Then they were killed during the First War and I became King. When the War ended I tried to restore contact with your family, but was told you’d lost your parents as well and had moved elsewhere.”

By now he was in front of you, and he gently took your hands in his. “I was so sorry to hear about your parents. I remembered them fondly and wished I could grieve with you.”

You blinked rapidly, fighting the liquid that suddenly swam in your eyes. “Thank you.” You almost whispered. “I was sorry to hear about yours as well.”

“I never stopped thinking about you.” Jongho said seriously, golden eyes holding yours captive. For the first time you noticed the pentagram pattern they held, and you thought it suited him. “I discreetly inquired into all the nearby villages, until finally I found the village where you live now.”

Happy as you were to reunite with a friend you thought you’d never see again, something pulled at the back of your mind and you spoke up. “The Captain said you summoned me to see if I would be a suitable Queen. Is that true?”

Jongho’s ears reddened, something you remembered happening whenever he was embarrassed. “Yeah, it is.” He admitted after a moment.

“Why?” You pressed, curiosity getting the better of you.

Jongho scratched at the back of his neck. “After we became teenagers, somewhere along the way I started to fall for you. But I was always afraid to tell you because I thought that me being the heir to the Demon throne would make you feel pressured to date me even if you didn’t want to. I thought that if you did feel the same, you should have the freedom to tell me if and when you wanted to, not because you had to for the sake of decorum.

“Then things got tense and we had to move back to the castle. I regretted not telling you every single day, but I couldn’t look for you because of the War. And now….” He trailed off, seemingly unsure of how to continue.

Offering him a soft smile, you placed your hands on his shoulders. “I fell for you around the same time, it seems.” Jongho’s head shot up, eyes sparkling with hope, but he waited for you to finish speaking. “I was afraid too; afraid that despite our friendship your parents wouldn’t let a lowly Vampire like me date you. After you left I accepted that I would probably never see you again and locked my feelings away in a little corner of my heart. But now that we’re here, it’s all flooding back.” You tilted your head up, looking deep into his eyes. “If you’ll have me, I’d love to be your Queen.”

In a sudden flurry of motion Jongho threw his arms around you, pulling you into his warm body. “Oh, how I’ve longed to hear you say that.” He murmured, lips brushing your ear. “I almost can’t believe this is really happening.”

Pulling your head back a little, you gazed at him, a mischievous glint coming into your eyes. “If you don’t kiss me right now, I swear to the gods I’ll bite you.”

“Oooh, kinky.” He smirked, teasing, then captured your lips in a burning kiss before you could retaliate.

Kissing Jongho was better than you could have ever imagined. The sensation of his heated body against your icy skin was divine, and the growl he let out when your fangs grazed his lower lip had your knees buckling.

The sound of someone clearing their throat brought the two of you back to reality. You jumped, startled, and looked up to see the Captain from earlier standing in the doorway, face carefully blank.

"The city leaders await you in the meeting hall, Your Majesty."

Jongho cursed under his breath. "I forgot about that." He muttered regretfully. Straightening, he cleared his own throat, and in a flash the Demon King stood before you once more. "Captain, tell the leaders I'll be right with them, then take Miss Hwang to my private rooms."

"Right away, Your Majesty." The Captain bowed and left, returning a moment later to fetch you.

"It seems we'll be seeing a lot more of each other in the future." She remarked as you walked along. "So we might as well get to know each other a little. My name is Yurin."

You shook her proffered hand. "And I'm Y/N, but you knew that already."

Yurin laughed. "True."

An amiable silence fell as Yurin led you through the castle's winding hallways and corridors. Presently, she stopped you at a set of doors almost identical to the ones outside the throne room.

"Here we are, His Majesty's private rooms. Make yourself comfortable and he should be here as soon as the meeting concludes. If you need anything before then, ring the bell just inside the doors and a servant will attend you."

Once Yurin had left and the doors had closed, you made a beeline for the bedroom and the large four-poster bed within it, a sudden exhaustion creeping over you as you sank into the soft red duvet. You were asleep before you even realized just how tired you really were.

You had vague memories of a warm body pulling you under the blankets and holding you close, but didn't truly wake up until you heard the crash.

It was loud, jerking you from your slumber immediately. You felt Jongho jolt awake beside you and turned toward him.

"The hell was that?" You inquired. He shook his head, just as clueless as you.

"Stay here, I'll go see what's up."

You nodded mutely, more than happy to do as he asked. "Be careful." You whispered.

He smiled sweetly. "I always am."

As you waited for Jongho to return, you soon became aware of near-silent footsteps making their way towards you. The shadows were deep, hiding whoever it was from even your enhanced sight. Out of nowhere a dark figure rushed at you, moonlight gleaming off the sword they carried.

A shocked squeal was all you could utter before a hand was clamped over your mouth and you felt the tip of the sword poking your ribs. Your skin burned where the metal touched it, and your heart sank as you realized the sword was made of charmed silver, one of the few things that could actually kill a Vampire.

Before your captor could move to take you anywhere, Jongho burst through the doors, looking so terrifying in his anger that even you flinched slightly. His eyes glowed so brightly they illuminated the room, his face twisted in a ferocious snarl that bared fangs twice as long as your own. His clothes were spattered with black Demon blood, and it soaked his clawed hands, dripping onto the wooden floor with a steady plop, plop, plop.

"Captain Yurin, I'd thank you to unhand my Queen." He spat.

Your eyes widened in absolute shock. Yurin was the one holding you? How had you not recognized her scent? What the hell was going on?

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Your Majesty. Vampires were never meant to rule, and I imagine your parents would've been furious if you tried to pull something like this while they were still alive."

At this Jongho chuckled, and you felt a smirk rise on your own lips. "Then you didn't know my parents at all. Y/N's parents were their closest friends before the War, when we lived down in the village. In fact, Y/N is the childhood friend you heard me talk about so much after we had to move back here."

Clearly Yurin had not been expecting this, as you felt her grip on you loosen a bit in the wake of her surprise. Seeing the opening you'd been hoping for, you dug your long nails into the arm around your waist. At the same time you sank your fangs into the hand that covered your mouth, relishing the pained cry that left Yurin as you drank from her.

The distraction was enough to allow Jongho to cross the room and pull you from Yurin's hold. There was a tearing sound, followed by a loud pop! as the force of his movement dragged your fangs along Yurin's hand, her middle finger detaching to remain in your mouth. You tucked the digit into your pocket as a snack for later.

She let out a shriek as she fell to the ground. You quickly assured Jongho that you were unharmed and he smiled softly before turning to pounce upon the fallen Yurin.

"Y-You can't just k-kill me, th-there are laws!" She choked as Jongho's hands curled around the dusky gray skin of her neck.

Jongho scoffed. "You forget that I made many of those laws. Treason is punishable by death, and the punishment may be given without trial if the act is committed before or against the King and his Queen. You are a disgrace to your lineage, Yurin, a black stain on the reputation of your family. Die like the scum that you are."

A clawed hand plunged into Yurin's chest, ripping her heart from its cavity and crushing it into a pool of gore before her dimming eyes.

You watched the scene unfold with rapt enjoyment, the blood and violence like music to your Vampiric soul. Once Jongho had stepped away from the dead Captain, you moved toward him.

"Gods, that was hot." You stated, desire beginning to coat your veins as you took in his blood-covered figure.

A deep growl was all the warning you got before Jongho rushed forward, scooping you up in his arms and all but throwing you onto the rumpled bedsheets. A thrill raced across your body as his warmth came to rest on top of you, golden eyes now blazing with lust as his hands caressed your face, leaving behind streaks of black blood that decorated your skin like warpaint. The scent of Yurin's lifeblood was intoxicating as you surged upward, capturing Jongho's lips in a deeply passionate kiss.

A whine left your throat as you felt his hardness pressing against your thigh. Jongho broke the kiss, a wide smirk on his face. "You want this baby?" He asked, pressing harder on your thigh.

"Yes, please, need it so bad!" You panted, gripping his arms tightly.

"You asked so nicely, how can I deny my sweet Vampire." The gold of his gaze darkened slightly and his voice became firm. "Strip for me."

Chills erupted all over you upon hearing the command. You could feel your mind growing fuzzy, slipping into subspace as you replied to him. "Yes, Master.”

You removed your dress and underclothes as quickly as you could while still making a show of it, and when you finished Jongho rewarded you with a searing kiss that set every nerve ending alight with glorious fire.

"What's your safe word, my moon?" He asked, teeth grazing the shell of your ear as his hands began to roam your naked form.

"I-It's sunlight." You moaned, back arching as his fingers flicked over your nipples.

"Good girl." He murmured, one hand moving to cup your mound as he leaned you back onto the sheets and slid a pillow beneath your hips.

“N-Need you so bad.” You almost sobbed. “Wanna t-taste you, please!”

“Oh?” Jongho’s smirk widened. “Does my little bat wish to drink from me?”

“Please Master! Wanna make you feel good too.” You begged, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“How can I say no to such a sweet request?”

Wrapping his hands around your waist he rolled onto his back, pulling you on top of him and baring the tan skin of his neck. You reached up, lightly dragging your fingertips across his veins and feeling the thrum of his pulse just below the surface. You buried your face in the crook of his shoulder, breathing in his scent until it surrounded and overwhelmed you, wrapping you in the delicious aroma of sulfur and sandalwood. For a few blessed moments, both your hearts were beating as one. Time seemed to slow to a halt and you became one with Jongho as your fangs gracefully pierced his flesh.

The two of you moaned in unison as pleasure exploded in your bodies, your venom flowing through his veins just as his blood flowed through yours. When you pulled away, Jongho caught your lips in a kiss so heated and full of passion you felt you might just burn into ashes.

“I can’t hold out much longer, my moon, I need you now.”

In a sudden hurry, Jongho wrangled you onto your back once more and hooked your legs over his shoulders. “Are you ready, little bat?”

"Yes, Master. I'm ready!" You giggled, fingers burying in his hair as he easily slid two fingers into your wet heat, drawing a languid moan from you. Your hips bucked, trying to push the digits deeper, but Jongho held you firmly in place with his other hand.

“Easy now, you’ll get what you want. Just be patient, my moon.”

“Yes, Master.” You murmured, sinking back into the sheets and letting him sweep you away into bliss as he prepped you.

All too soon, he withdrew his fingers. You held in a whine of protest, knowing that complaining would only delay the pleasure.

A few moments later you felt the press of Jongho's length against your dripping core and a shiver of anticipation rushed through you. He entered you slowly, filling you up bit by bit until you felt as though you might burst.

Your mouth hung open in a silent moan as he began to move, setting a steady pace that hit your g-spot every single time. You could already feel the coiling heat of your orgasm and knew that you would not last long.

"Please, Master, n-need you…faster. Don't w-want to cum without you!" You begged, words beginning to slur from the overwhelming mix of feelings and emotions as you sank deeper into subspace.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tsunami, a loud cry bursting from your lungs as your eyes teared, makeup a smeared mess by this point. The world around you went white, limbs scrambling for purchase as you basked in the absolute euphoria spreading through your body.

"Just a little longer, my moon." Jongho soothed when you began to whine in discomfort from the overstimulation. A few more thrusts and he was burying himself deep inside you, your belly bulging slightly as he stuffed you full of his cum.

After catching his breath, Jongho stood and began to clean you up. He straightened the sheets and then climbed under them, pulling you up against his fiery skin. His lips met yours in a soft, sweet kiss full of love and you smiled as you kissed him back. It seemed you had finally found where you truly belonged.

#cultofdionysusnet #kdiarynet #mfu-net #sandsofirenet #atinyhalloweenproject #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez jongho #jongho x reader #ateez smut #jongho smut #ateez horror #jongho horror #maturefanfic #18-21+#au #fanfic

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daisynik7 · 4 months

Text

and if I'm gonna be drunk, I might as well be drunk in love

You squint your eyes at the pink neon sign flickering against the fake moss tapestry to the left of the bar. A young couple poses in front of it, smiling at their mutual friend who holds the phone to take a picture. Beautiful, radiant, charming. All while you sit on the barstool, hunched over the half-empty cocktail that you swirl in your grip, relishing the condensation on the rim of the glass. With your straw, you stab at the maraschino cherry floating around in there, popping it into your mouth. The sweetness cuts through the bitter liquor, or loneliness, lingering on your tongue and you think that maybe tonight isn’t so bad, despite your sulking.

It's another happy hour, courtesy of your boss. Everyone on your team is here, who you genuinely get along with, no problem. But there’s one person missing, the one person you want to see the most. Nanami is the only one to decline tonight’s invitation to the new trendy bar downtown. During your lunch together, you don’t ask why. You don’t want him to suspect that you’re devastated by his decision, which you are. So, you talk about how much you’re craving cake instead, changing the topic all together, hoping he doesn’t catch the hint of sadness in your tone.

Ever since he walked you home in the rain the other week, protected under his umbrella, there’s been this obvious vibe between you. Still, it could all be wishful thinking on your end. You never did get around to confessing your true feelings for him; you’d rather enjoy what you have as it is. Why ruin something good? There’s the hope that maybe things could be even better if you take this leap of faith. But it’s always terrifying taking the plunge, isn’t it? Especially when you don’t know if you’ll sink or swim.

It was by the fourth cocktail that you decided to leave your group gathered around the back table. That’s why you’re here now, sulking between strangers at the bar, chewing on your tiny straw until it’s gnarled on one end. Your friends on the team know the real reason, trying to dismiss all the jokes from your more annoying coworkers about how you must be missing your “work husband”. Even they’re shipping the two of you together. If only you knew what Nanami truly thinks about all this. About you.

To your complete shock, it doesn’t take you long to find out. Still in his work attire, Nanami walks through the front door, hair swept beautifully as always. As soon as his eyes find yours, he smiles, making his way to you. It’s only when he approaches you that you notice a small box in his hands. “Good. You’re still here,” he says, smile growing wider.

You blink at him several times, as if you’re not seeing him clearly.

“Can you come with me? I have something for you.” His voice is trembling slightly, excited.

You nod, still rendered speechless, wobbly as you follow him outside. When you’re alone in front of the establishment, the voices of those inside muffled and distant, you stare down at your shoes, anticipating what’s about to happen. He holds the box out to you, opening the cover slowly, revealing a personalized cake decorated beautifully with your name written in neat frosting on the top.

You meet his gaze, putting your hand to your mouth, hiding a gasp. “Nanami.”

“I made this for you. Because of what we talked about today.” He swallows hard, taking a step towards to you. “I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a while now. I…” He trails off, nervous, scared, uncertain. Just like you.

This time, you follow through with what you’ve been wanting to do since that rainy night not too long ago. You close the distance, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. Sparks fly and whatever buzz you have from the alcohol is replaced with this electricity. “Me too.”

Author's Note: A continuation of this. Yet another coworker!Nanami drabble inspired by a song that’s making me feel all sappy and soft. 🩶 Divider credit to @/cafekitsune.

#nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento fluff #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #kento nanami fluff #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami fluff #coworker!nanami #jjk fluff

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stusbunker · 5 months

Text

Spotless: Measure

Chapter Two

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader

Word Count: 1866

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, band dynamics past and current, buried feelings, mild drug use, unbeta'd

Series Masterlist

Divider courtesy of @cafekitsune

Dean pocketed his keys and grabbed his coffee off the roof of the impala. Sam was already halfway to the studio entrance sipping on his green smoothie and all together being the energetic morning person that he annoyingly was. They had been at it until after midnight, but were back before their usual ten o’clock start time. Dean knew it’d be another grueling day, but at least he was just working out the final few songs and not screaming himself hoarse in the box again. Yet.

Dean followed Sam inside Trust No One Studios, a rundown building off the highway that wouldn’t look like much if the owner wasn’t a paranoid security stickler. The parking lot and the entrances were all covered by cameras. They fobbed their way into the main entrance and nodded at the day guard, Ronald, who waved them through the metal detectors. He was a fan, but had kept a lid on it since Sam had snapped on him during their third album.

“Thanks, Ronnie,” Dean muttered, voice still raw.

“Good luck in there,” Ronald replied, but only to Dean.

Sam rolled his eyes and huffed off down the hall towards the basement steps. Dean trailed after his brother and bandmate to the largest recording room Frank had to offer. The Leviathan Level held two studios, but they were going deeper, to the bottom level, dubbed Purgatory, and its nearly grade-school-auditorium’s worth of space.

They meet another guard at the bottom of the steps, but just flashed their lanyards at him to continue on toward Ash’s domain.

Ash had been engineering their sound since the beginning. In fact, Dean wasn’t sure he had any other legit sources of income besides whatever residuals he earned off their soon-to-be five albums. But he wasn’t about to ask him either. Ash was a weird dude, wicked smart, but weird.

The control room still smelled vaguely of pot when they entered, but no one cared. Sam walked straight through to the door to the main part of the studio to start his warm ups. Dean dropped into one of the chairs at the dials and finished his coffee. He knuckled one eye as he watched the clock on the wall, wondering who would be the next to arrive. He didn’t want to call Lee and wake his ass up to get back to it, but he would if the rest of the band weren’t ready to play by ten.

As he toyed with the lip of his gas station coffee cup lid, Dean’s phone buzzed with an incoming text to one of the many group chats the band had. The name ‘Trouble’ was Dean’s hint that it was actually work talk.

>>>Don’t forget to take pictures! Or I’ll come down there and get them myself.

Which was a blatant bluff on your part and Dean knew it. Frank and Ronnie both gave you the creeps. Plus, you liked to hear the finished product in its entirety, which he kind of loved about you.

<<<Not it

Dean replied before anyone else and repocketed his phone unwilling to figure out just who would be getting the candids for your next social media blitz. He had too much to worry about as it was. He pulled out his notebook he kept in his back pocket with song ideas. The bridge to ‘Pushing Through’ was giving him problems and he wanted to rework the lyrics a bit.

This had been a hard album, both in getting the band to come together and make it happen and how much he was pouring into each song. Without Cas, Dean’s whole process was off and instead of asking the new kid or, hell, even Sam for help, he decided he needed to write most of it single handedly. Call it penance or a martyr complex, Dean had made his bed and he was going to lie in it.

Late night phone calls and hours on the road

My worst mistake wasn’t fightin’

It was having all this guilt that never showed

When you said I was getting frightenin’

I just pushed through

Late night phone calls and hours on the road

My worst mistake wasn’t fightin’

It was holding back this love I never told

Then I see your eyes filled with lightin’

You pushed me through (strike through)

You pulled me through

Dean didn’t realize Kevin had come in until he heard the keyboard join in on Sam’s scales. He looked back at what he’d adjusted and hummed to himself. This wasn’t a song he’d have written even two years ago. It was a fuckin’ love song for one and it put the spotlight on the last year and a half of his mistakes. He almost didn’t want to ruin it by putting it out there for the world to see. But they needed twelve and it was the closest to finished he had.

For the band and this deadline, Dean could be brave.

Pamela strolled in and slumped against Dean’s shoulders, somewhere between a hug and using him as a pillow. He chuckled and patted her head as he flipped to the next song on his list.

“Where’s your husband?” Dean asked off-handedly, knowing Lee couldn’t be far.

“Ex-husband,” Pamela grumbled.

“Sure.” Dean honestly couldn’t keep track anymore. Pam and Lee had been married to each other at least twice and shared one kid, two houses and three dogs between them.

“He’s dropping Gibson off at his mom’s, nanny needed a day off,” Pamela explained and Dean could feel the glare she was giving him.

“Well, isn’t that nice of you.” Dean gave her a fake smile.

“I know. A thoughtful employer— in this economy?” Pamela snarked and picked up Dean's coffee, frustrated when she found it empty. “Ugh! Okay, well, I’m gonna go stretch— maybe I can talk that brother of yours into some yoga before we get going.”

“You are such a creeper.”

“Sammy’s a big boy, Dean.”

“I don’t want to know.”

Pamela shook her head and slinked off to join Kevin and Sam.

“Take some pictures— cuz I aint!”

Pamela glanced back at Dean and winked while pressing an imaginary shutter button. Dean stood suddenly and chased her into the live room until she squealed and hid behind Sam. Her tiny frame dwarfed behind Sam’s, Dean relented, smiling genuinely for the first time that day.

Dean grabbed his acoustic and strummed, pacing around as he muttered his amended lyrics under his breath. Lee and Bobby made it in just after ten. Luckily, Sam and Pam already had enough of their bending competition, which kept Lee from getting pissy about it. Just as Dean and Lee were going over the chord progressions on ‘Rupture’, Ash strolled into the control room and started hooting into the intercom that it’s time to roll.

“Fucking finally,” Dean grunted and ducked out of his strap. They did things as they came, but bass and drums always were put down first, so he, Lee and Kevin hung back until they were needed.

“Alright, ya idjits. Show me what ya got,” Bobby ordered from his seat beside Ash.

So they did.

Lunch showed up just after two. And, naturally, Dean devoured his sub as quickly as he could, which was when Pamela decided to remember to take pictures for their socials.

Dean rolled his eyes and licked his lips, chewing as the lettuce and mayo collected at the corners. If his hands weren’t full, she would have gotten the bird, but priorities, you know?

“Gross,” Sam replied, laughing.

“Don’t worry, grumpy, I’ll get your good side too,” Pamela teased.

“I’m sure you will,” Sam muttered and cracked open his bottle of water.

Lee balled up his napkin and threw it across the table at Kevin who apparently had been still snapping pictures. “Save it for the session, newbie,” he grunted.

Dean glanced across the room to where Ash and Bobby were talking, both more serious than the last few hours justified. He met Bobby’s eye and held it, knowing he’d find out sooner or later what had the old man extra bristled.

They finished their food and relaxed for another few minutes; they had a good handle on the tracks they were working out. But that still meant hours more until they were tight and Ash had everything he wanted. Even then, Dean made them do more takes, just to be sure. He was a perfectionist, like his father before him, and Phantom Traveler had gotten to where they were with that driving force leading the way.

Sam was the one to rein Dean in. “Look, man, that was it. We had it three rounds ago. I’m beat.”

“Ash?” Dean called back into the control room, not willing to be outvoted without certainty.

“It’s all gravy on my end, Dean-o.”

“Pam?” Dean asked his drummer and part-time mindreader.

“Kevin and Sam can clear out, I think we can hit that intro harder.”

Dean looked at Lee, who sighed, because he knew Pam was right and Dean was just letting her be the bad guy.

“Alright, from the top!” Dean called out and Pamela quickly counted them in.

Sam and Kevin stayed to listen, sipping water and slumped into any free space they could find behind their gear. Sam was stuck, Dean was always his ride. But the kid could duck out whenever he wanted. The fact that Kevin stayed solidified Dean’s faith that he was going to work out. Without Cas, it had been weird. Well, first it was awful, but now that they were here, back making music, what they did best, it was an adjustment.

But Kevin had stepped up and Dean couldn’t deny he was grateful.

No one could fill Cas’ place in the band. But the kid had good hands and on top of that he sang, filling out their harmonies with a higher range. Something Cas never did. So, yeah, it was still weird. But if Dean had learned anything living in California, it was that weird didn’t mean bad.

They tackled the intro until Dean was sick of it. And Lee and Pam both were giving him the stink eye. One final check in with Bobby and Ash and Dean released them for the night.

“Alright, I don’t want to see your faces until Monday at ten,” Bobby explained. “Take the weekend off. Be stupid, but save your voices and your fingers.”

“Awww, he really does care,” Dean snarked, throwing a ball cap over his sweat-damp hair.

Bobby glared. “You’re no good to me sounding like my great aunt Ethel, jackass.”

Kevin laughed and everyone held their breath, impressed and surprised by him openly mocking Dean. But Lee couldn’t hold it in and started laughing too. And by the time Ash and Sam were in on it, Dean was crossing his arms and murdering them all with a look. Pam slinked her arm over his shoulders and patted his back condescendingly.

“I hate you all,” Dean muttered. Eventually he dropped the dramatics before looking over at Sam. “Let’s get outta here already.”

“Yeah, already,” Sam agreed, shaking his head and following Dean back out to the parking lot.

Tagging: @deans-spinster-witch @mrswhozeewhatsis @cosicas-cuquis @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @suckitands33 @ladysparkles78 @deans-baby-momma @stoneyggirl2 @sassy-pelican

Chapter Three: Rest

#dean winchester fanfiction #dean/reader #rockstar au #fake dating au #angst with a happy ending #rockstar!dean #dean winchester/reader #spn fanfic #spn au #spotless series

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