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themotherofblood · 1 year

Note

I saw you opened your requests again, so to finish off my series of requests inspired by Bollywood songs, can I please get Daemon x poc fem reader inspired by "Laal ishq" with lots of angst and nsfw please? (feel free to ignore)

you asked and I shall deliver!! I love the song, even though it’s melancholic. So to go with the theme of estranged lovers. Reader and Daemon have been friends for years, that eventually blossomed to love. Daemon is being forced to marry Rhea. There is no age gap since both have grown up together (also a really disgusting twist, fuck Jaeheryes!) THERE IS A PART TWO WITH SMUT I PROMISE!

Daemon Targaryen x Reader | WC: 5003

Masterlist

tw: mentions of incest, pregnant people and crass language

Daemon’s blood boiled anew since he was knighted the year before and was handed his ancestral sword. Dark Sister. He flew Caraxes faster, he trained harder. While one-half of his time was spent being a more valiant warrior than he already was, the other half was spent with you. Head in your lap, as he fawned on your beauty over and over again. It wasn’t right, you were a noble lady - a princess at that; you were to be chaste and untouched. Yet the walls of the Red Keep often turned a blind eye to your and Daemon’s ongoings. Everyone expected it so, seeming how Daemon always got what he wanted. The court expected that you would be wed to the young prince before Baelon would sit on the throne.

The door to the Godswood slammed open with a thud, and gruff sounds of huffing followed by clanks of armour filled your ears as you smiled to yourself. Almost enjoying every time your lover, pouting and broody demanded your affection after a long day of being consumed with his knighthood. You looked up to find Daemon placing his helm on the wooden table of refreshments before yanking out a leather flask of Flea Bottom’s finest moonshine, growling from the back of his mouth as the burn coated his sore throat. He huffed before plopping down next to you. The stench of mud and sweat filled your nostrils, much used to the muck as you kept working on your embroidery. Lip tucked between your lips as you passed a red string through the fresh patch of linen.

Daemon’s demeanour shifted, without having said a word as his attention was drawn to your nibbled fingers working over the delicate patches of thread. The designs of a story rather than the simple florals most ladies wore at court.

“Who bested you this time?” your voice caught his attention, your eyes still fixated on your work and yet the frustrations bubbling within him were apparent. Daemon narrowed his eyes at you before taking three large swigs from his flask.

“No one, every one of them has tasted dirt by my hands today,” he quickly replied, his mind toiling with a different malady altogether, like a plague. Clinging to the crevices of his head. How does one ask a lady such a thing?

“Then what’s got you pouting today?” you mused at him, this time placing the cloak down and turning to look at his defensive expression. His faded brows pulled to a tight-knit and his mouth parted with no words dancing over his lip. You raised your brow at him, knowing him far better than he realised.

Back in the yards, young lords with Daemon sparred away their mornings. Determined and raging as they charged at one another or dummies. Sparking conversations of bloody war fantasies and of comely girls at court. Out of the few closest to Daemon, five were already married - even his brother. Not that the notion of marriage had him praying like the fanatics at the Sept but even as stories of Old Valyria painted his dreams. He pictured his sweet lover, you in the grab of his house. Muttering words of Valyrian as his love for you would be legitimised by the eyes of dragons and the Fourteen Flames. Perhaps as his own sister-by-law, Aemma swelled full of her first child. He pictured little white-haired children of his own, perhaps enough to put his grandsire’s abilities to shame.

Daemon was sure if he would bring the matter up with his father. That perhaps his Jahereys would offer his hand to your father. There was much to be gained politically, and he would soil the sheets with his blood to cover for the lack of your maidenhead. The plans in his mind were crystal, already insistent of you becoming his lady wife. Though it was a matter of if you’d wish it so, or if your family would approve it.

“I- I asked father to have your hand in marriage,” he replied in one quick breath, his ears ringing from the silence that followed. A blank expression that spread through your features didn’t help his turmoil either as he waited for you to say something or refused him outright. “Fuck’s sake, say something?” he frowned, taking hold of your shoulders and shaking you.

The words wouldn’t reach your lips as you blankly stared him down, blinking profusely back to reality as his worry turned into disappointment. You straightened yourself, folding away the cloak on your lap before gently laying in on the grass, your chest pushing against your corset from how hard you were breathing. Abruptly, you launched yourself at him, knees catching at your gown uncomfortably that you didn’t care for as you straddled his lap to kiss him. There was a fire in how your lips connected, Daemon was truly taken aback for a moment before chuckling and giving into the onslaught, hands caressing each other’s cheeks. You rested your forehead against Daemon’s, “You want this? Marriage?” you had to ask to be sure, that perhaps this wasn’t another one of his spurts of passion.

He nodded “Would you? Be my lady wife?” his eyes, wider than the Septa’s when she heard crass remarks. Bursts of anticipation flooded Daemon’s heart. You would be his, to have and to hold. The colours of his house staining the mustard silks adorning your skin, there would be no reason to conceal such ardour for one another, a flame concealed by forbidding it air. Young souls afraid of its fire would see all but the world, perhaps diminished before it could swallow you whole. The embers would finally take flight, burn anyone who would question Daemon’s affections for you. It was way past time that the two of you should have been wed, every lord was afraid of approaching you from the fear of being eaten by Caraxes, and the ladies stood ten breaths away from the fear of being poisoned by you.

You, a Princess of House Martell, Darmon a Prince of House Targaryen and yet your names for one another held not houses or titles but otherworldly, cosmic - cathartic titles ones of adoration and the rest, not High Valyrian, Ryonish or the Common Tongue could describe. Oftentimes than not it felt unreal, fabricated that perhaps it was the joy of having another, the thrill of breaking statues or perhaps it was finally a sense of home. You saw him for who he was and he, you, not within the wild inclinations but perhaps the calm hidden behind the mirror.

The elation of your supposed oncoming betrothal spread cheek to cheek, the corners of your eyes crinkling (even be fair to say teary-eyed) yet you purse your lips. Still lingering on the question on Daemon’s lips, it was yes - such agreement you could scream your throat sore from Rhaenys Hill - mischief however clouded your mind as you pulled back from him, scrunching your brows in deep thought. A look of offence adorned Daemon’s sharp features; a minx through and through. “Fly a piece of the moon back to me and I shall think about it,” a mere jest, followed by a giggle to seal the line. Daemon’s eyes flickered with another opportunity but for now his work was done.

The tunnels in the Red Keep had stood witness to the damning celebrations that followed after, sneaking baskets of blankets, spiced wines, lemons, and plum cakes being carried from the kitchens to your solar. Even if you were caught, there wasn’t a fret or consequence. You were to be married. Far too intoxicated to do anything by the end of the night, as the vulgarities whispered by Daemon against your ear as his fingers rested against your blushed lips, feeding you pieces of purple grapes to muffle the deep bellied giggles pouring out of your mouth.

The morrow bloomed in with you sprawled atop furs by the dying embers of the hearth, skin sticky from no doubt the sweets consumed last night as your chambermaids poured in to tidy your chamber and you make princess-like once more for the respectable court. Though comely and courteous charm oozed out of your every pour, you let out dishevelled groans and grumbles as you pulled yourself awake. Finding an indent in the furs where your lover had nestled with you the night before and now he fluttered away like every morning. Pristinely dressed in your riding clothes, your schedule today consisted of visiting Lady Aemma, avoiding the snarky air headed ladies and court and paying your precious steed and visiting the Kingswood.

Aemma Arryn, already swelling from her first babe, wore her discomfort with much grace. Hoping to birth a boy for Viserys but in her heart she knew the babe to be a bumbling girl. “I’ve heard something about you… and Daemon,” her lips curled in a sly smile. Yet you being devoid of romantical theatrics, heat still evaded your composure and flared across your cheeks. You shuffled onto the chaise next to her, giggling as you hesitantly held your arm out. She meekly nodded at your gesture, grabbing your palm to place over the bump, the skin firm yet softer under your touch. Living with dragons mere breaths away from you and yet an entire person being inside your friend fascinated you, perhaps such would be your fate without the lemon heads in your environs while engaging in the salacious acts with Daemon.

Your eyes crinkled at the corners, much aware of what Aemma had heard - from Viserys no doubt - the older Targaryen brother hid not one thing from his sweet wife. Both brothers were highly hen pecked by the women they took as lovers. “What could you have possibly heard, I swear I poisoned no one,” your lips curled to a wry grin making her tap your thigh mischievously with her foot. You pulled them onto your lap, kneading your fingers into the mass of her foot, alleviating pressure from her overbearing weight.

“Viserys overheard Prince Baelon talking with the King… Can you imagine us, sisters!” her smile widened cheek to cheek, already pictured dressing you in ivory herself like you did her.

“Whatever you have done to my brother, I applaud you,” Viserys’s voice chimed from behind you, leaning against the door frame, admiring his glowing wife with a graceful smirk on his face “The Street of Silk shall mourn his absence,” he teased making Aemma glare at his antics

“Do not listen to him,” she scoffed, “Have you told anyone yet?” You shook your head, wanting to keep this joy just between the people you trusted the most before the vultures found a way to make profit of such an event yet again.

“Do you know where he is?” you turned to Viserys who pointed out the window to the skies.

The air crashing against your skin as your hair followed free of its braided constraints, purple leather hugged your skin, shielding you from the chill of this day’s climate. The trees mere green shadows in your periphery blend all as one, just your own breathing echoing in your ears and the quicked hoof beats of your night black mare Nysa. While she couldn’t fly, her legs were no less than being afloat in the clouds, brushing past the dirt road at speeds incomparable to the naked eye. She neighed at a halt, right at the end of the meadow. The greenery reached as far as your eyes could see, you lingered in the quiet for a moment, the bird, the grasshoppers and even the leaves melodically sang a song for your ears.

The winds tore past the stink of the bustling livelihood of King’s Landing, amidst the rain that was sure to follow within the end of the week, the forest smelled of leaves, of warmth and damp. You shuffled off your horse, your own personal guard no doubt still catching up to the rampage that tore you through the thick tree lines. Deep breaths of fresh air flooded your lungs, you often dreamed of riding all the way home, to bask in the crisp sunshine at the Old Palace.

You walked holding onto Nysa’s reigns, finding a spot to sit with your legs over the rocks looking down into the ditch, while your marriage would bring forth much joy in your life. Perhaps a blissful life at Dragonstone, a cat, Caraxes and him. Mostly you’d enjoy being a royal lady-wife, perhaps it would make the ladies at court fear you more than a poisoning, Dornishmen - salacious varmints.

Higher above from where you were sitting, Daemon flew past the clouds, higher every moment. A feat encouraged by your jest but in reality a grace question, why hadn’t the Targaryens ever touched the moon? The dim witted Septons nor the droll Maesters had an answer for it. He took matters in his own hands, clipped to Caraxes as he rode the Red Wyrm to newer heights. The air around him was much colder and yet he kept climbing. Taking in large gasps of breaths, however lungs simply couldn’t get enough. A piece of the moon - he could do that much for his sweetest wife to be, a wedding gift better than any silk gown or golden necklace. What completely overshadowed the struggling mount underneath him was you. Caraxes fought to climb, the sky growing a deeper shade of blue, as Daemon’s mind fantasised his way through the journey; the lack of air in his lungs slipped right past.

Knocking him unconscious first, Caraxes yet climbed heights above than before until he realised Daemon slumped backwards on his saddle; severing any control the prince had on his dragon moments before. Such exhaustion consumed the Red Wyrm too, while still within his prime his wings tucked tight as he fell from the skies like the stories of angels the High Septon preaches.

The striking red of the dragon’s body clashed against the bright and clear skies that graced King’s Landing today. Just as you lounged at the edge of the meadow, a falling red figure wasn’t hard to miss. You stood to your feet immediately, fascinated at what it might have been. The Blood Comet in the scrolls wasn’t due for another decade or two. Only instead of gliding across the horizon of the sky, it grew bigger by the moment; until you saw the flutter (no book said anything about fluttering rocks falling from skies above). The dark membranes outline the red made you gasp “Oh gods,” this had been either a sick thrill Daemon had decided to partake in or he was truly falling from the heavens.

You mounted Nysa, rushing towards the falling figure from the skies. While to others the moment seemed fleeting but it felt ages as you neared the falling dragon. Caraxes spread his wings, in desperate attempts to halt the descent as he gained consciousness. Daemon, still attached to his saddle but nowhere near coherency. A loud crash accompanied a mushroom cloud of dirt blasting through the woods, Nysa nearly throwing you off her back as she neighed, startled to shit. You jumped off her, your personal guard merely catching you in time as Ser Alysen gripped your arms. Warning you of the dragon that laid huffing and curled, he would eat you, he would eat you.

You screamed from the back of your throat, pushing Alysen off your back and rushing towards Caraxes. “Do not fucking eat me,” your mind toiled, yet you had to know if your lover was alive or if you were widowed before you even had the chance to step on the alter. The red dragon’s nostril flared, low bellied chirps echoing through the settling dust, please - let me see him. You weren’t sure how you would fight a creature four times your size but perhaps his bigger mind sensed your harmlessness, putting up no protest as you pulled yourself onto Daemon’s saddle, him still slouched, breathing.

“Daemon, Daemon wake up,” you cupped his cheeks. Shaking him profusely, the behemoth he was growing into. You couldn’t carry him off the dragon even if you wanted to. “Come on now, wake up!”

Most of King’s Landing already witnessed a mythical creature falling from the heavens. Half of them ran for the Grand Sept, howling of the end times and the people in the Keep knew it to be Daemon. Within minutes more riders arrived with aid, the others contemplating the possibility of an attack. They found you on top of the Red Wyrm. Distraught and holding the young prince’s body hugged onto you, getting him off the mount proved a far harder challenge than anything the Stranger would ever test them to. A crying princess and an unwilling dragon.

You had raced behind the wheelhouse carrying Daemon back to the Red Keep. Maesters were already alerted and awaiting the prince in his bed chambers. While you had no business being in his quarters, even you had found him. You paced like a mad woman outside his bed chambers, if he died you swore to torment him in the afterlife as you counted every brick placed in the wall you were staring at.

Prince Baelon soon after burst through his quarters, hearing about his son as his conversation with father seemed to have turned quarrelsome. Both him and Viserys had raced down the corridors, the sight was none for relief but you sat on the floor. Knees bobbing in anxiety as you chewed through your nails. Having realised what Daemon might have been doing as dread and anger was replaced with guilt. You made him do this.

The questioning look on the princess’ faces was replied with one meek sentence “I asked him for the moon,” your eyes welling once more. Yet for the sake of your dignity and name you turned away.

After much waiting, yet not having left Daemon’s quarters. You waited patiently for him to awaken, for reasons other than to either press grateful kisses all over his face, or grovel at his feet for his blessed romanticism. Flattered (truly - completely) for broken bones set straight, and bruising along the side of his shoulders and two fat sheep, the cost of the moon on land. When Daemon grumbled awake, his family were the first to receive him until Baelon - being the true supporter of your union - ushered you in after demanding that the Maesters and attendants all leave. The father in him refrained from yelling at his son’s recklessness but you dutifully performed that right for him.

Daemon grinned, loopy from the milk of poppy no doubt. “Princess!” he dragged, very likely expecting an embrace or a pat on his shoulders for his efforts as he sat perched by pillows against the stone headboard. He instead was met with a swift and ringing slap across his cheeks, your eyes and nostrils flared.

“Have you lost your fucking mind!” the rage of a true Dornish woman radiating through your words, unbothered that the Heir to the Iron Throne stood witness to the crisp smack you had landed on his son’s face. You tilted your head, demanding an answer - palm stinging and yet itching to land another sharp smack on his other cheek as he grinned once more. While his cock nearly twitched seeing his sweet princess so ferocious about his life, your eye would soon begin to twitch as he kept up his antics.

“You asked for the moon,” he trailed away, clearly aware of the blunder he had created.

“A joke Daemon! A joke!” you dug your fingers into his cream tunic as you climbed on his bed “If I asked you to jump off Maegor's Holdfast, would you?” you scolded, Daemon’s mischievous glint now turned soft as your anger gave way to your concern. He nodded in agreement, nodding away like a spring headed doll. You smacked him on the shoulder once more, your bottom lip trembling as you remembered the terror you had felt as he laid unconscious in your arms “I thought - you moron,” your voice broke. “I thought you were dead,” you whimpered, making Daemon shuffle up higher.

He pushed stray hairs away from your face, his eyes soft as he glanced over your scrunched face. His thumbs caressing your cheeks before pulling you into him. You sobbed, near incoherent as relief washed over your fright. Daemon shushed you, apologising for scaring you, he looked up to where his father stood in his receiving chambers with a sheepish yet apologetic smile on his face. Baelon’s eyes glinted with knowing sadness, smithing Daemon wrote as disappointment for the stunt he had pulled. Baelon nodded knowingly at Daemon, reassuring him that you and him not to be disturbed before exiting and closing the door behind him.

Daemon milked his injuries for all they were worth, the warrior in him laid to rest as he demanded care from you at all times. From having you snuck through the tunnels to lay with him curled under the furs to insisting that you change his bandaging for him, read for him and braid his hair. The reality that Daemon was the younger sibling had never been more apparent than these past two moons as his bones realigned themselves, even Caraxes shared Daemon’s temperament during this time. Refusing to hunt and gobbling through the horde of sheep the dragon keepers would bring for him.

Whatever announcements of nuptials were to be made were postponed until he healed whole. So here you lay in the Godswood with Daemon oddly chirped than before as Prince Baelon’s feast begins tonight, having him affirmed as heir yet again as Jahereys health began to decline. Barely being able to speak more than a cough or two. The Old King’s time neared to an end, something that had deeply bothered all the Targaryens in the family. Bringing nearly the end of the century of dragons, even Aemma near the end of term. Much was to grace House Targaryen in the coming moons, so sitting here under the red leaves in the glaring warmth of the afternoon - there was silence, there was tranquillity.

You mindlessly sectioned Daemon's hair, braiding it far better than the handmaiden did for him. “You are going to be the prettiest Prince tonight, have women drooling and what not,” you giggled, knowing very well he found your teasing amusing but it often came at the price of having your rear smacked out of the blue.

“I shall escort you tonight,” Daemon whispered, lost in the sensations of your finger tips fiddling against his scalp, consequences and rules meant little to him now, let the world know and have the bother be done with, you were his. What else was there to say about it

“No, you may not,” you shook your head, tongue poked out as you dismissed him. He moved his head to look up at you, you shook your head once more “We cannot, not just yet,”

This one dismissal would result in a knight of pawing and pouting, you were sure of it. A prince of six and ten and yet he couldn’t behave like one. Your gown for tonight already laid awaits in your bed chambers, a gorgeous mustard and gold gown to compliment the symbols of your house. While Daemon often insisted you wear black or perhaps even red, in his head the two of you were already wed; it was only a matter of formality. What courting a woman that has been with him since his toddlerhood.

The Throne room once more had been decorated to charm the guests travelling from all over the Known World, to pay respects to the Old King and to find allegiances with their soon to be King, Prince Baelon. Many noble ladies of courts far and wide, dressed in their finest gowns, hoping to catch the eye of a Targaryen prince, perhaps the heir or perhaps his son. Prince Baelon appeared mellow, almost irked as he made his rounds. You greeted him upon arrival but his usually courteous smile to you seemingly turned to a grunt of an acknowledgment. You found solace within your known friends as they gushed over each other’s gowns while feasting over candied apples and cake. Daemon arrived later, a quirk of his as he walked in head held high and nonchalant, lips curled in a smirk as ladies began to hound him with questions of his well being.

The Kingsgaurd made their presence known as the crowd simmered to whispered conversations, everyone resumed their seats on either side of the Throne room. You sat with a few Dornish delegates and your brother Quentel Martell, he was rather chirpy about being housed by Targaryens, and odd joy or perhaps understanding bubbling in his chest as he socialised with the other heads of houses. The grand titles of the king were read out as his silhouette crowded your vision, the Old King stood in his regalia. A dying dragon yet stood commanding an entire room, people erupted in cheers as he walked to his Throne, his heir and son stood by the spiking swords by the ground.

The grandeur of the feast continued through the elaborate evening, tables coated in food and spilt wine drying sticky. Daemon and you made your rounds, inquiring of the latest salacious gossip and giggling over the older maidens that swooned over his father,when in was unsaid yet apparent that no woman in all of this court would ever be what Alyssa Targaryen was, her fire: her passion were truly unmatched. Another round of announcements were to be made, a grand toast to proclaim Baelon Targaryen as heir once more.

“It is with great pride, I once again affirm,” Jaeherys looked to his son admiringly, Baelon shuffled uncomfortably where he stood and yet you held a sorrowful smile, he truly deserved to have Alyssa beside him, she would have been a far valiant Queen than Westeros had ever seen. “My son, Baelon Targaryen is Heir to the Iron Throne and to be the future King of The Seven King,” the crowd applauded in unison as you joined them, Daemon nudged Viserys as he would be King after his father. As the applause died down, Jaehereys continued “I also with great pleasure, announce the betrothal of my grandson Daemon Targaryen,”

Heat creeped onto your cheeks as you caught Daemon’s lilac eyes across the room, crinkled at the corner as he smirked at you; both of you already aware of the verdict. Daemon contained all his animalistic happiness within him as he mouthed “my wife” to you. For moments, the hundreds of nobles and servants around you disappeared, all the remained were your eyes and his, separated by the wall from the watching gallery where you stood, here where you would be married, anointed by the King himself or the High Septon.

“With the noble lady Rhea of House Royce!” King Jaehereys’s voice boomed through the hall following thunderous applause. The crowds either turned to direct their applause at Daemon or turned to find the bronze dressed house and clapped.

Daemon's betrayed frown turned to his grandsire and his father, this couldn’t be - he was told otherwise, he wished otherwise. Lady Rhea, the great brown haired beauty she was - had already approached the makeshift altar, shuffling her way past the chairs to the Iron Throne; she stopped by Daemon, waiting from him to approach her. Daemon stood his ground, a deceived scowl began to tear through his princely composure and yet he had no choice over the demanding glare Jaehereys had fixed upon his grandson. Daemon felt the urge to empty his contents right onto the stone floor as Lady Rhea and him bowed in honour. Rhea, unaware of Daemon’s inner discomfort began to soak in the outpour of love for the new Targaryen wife to be.

While Daemon began to contemplate ways to weasel his way out of this, he found you standing at the gallery. The wine cup in your hand king dropped as you stool colourless and frozen. Not a blink nor a twitch as you stared at the window behind the throne, bile covered tongue as the sweet wine in your mouth turned bitter. The night was far from ended.

“With such auspicious news, my son, Baelon Targaryen presents you with your future Queen. To secure another reign of dragons, the Prince is betrothed to the Princess of Dorne!”

Another round of shivers jolted you from your trance, this time your reddening eyes shifted to look at the King - he who searched for your mustard clothed figure in the sea of people. Baelon had sooner caught your eye than him as he approached the stairs leading up to the gallery. People all around you are cheering and you hear muffled chatter. His hands tucked behind his back as he waited for you to come to him, how do you marry a man who held nothing but fatherly admiration for you wit, how do you marry the father of your lover. You eyes hadn’t dared meet Daemon’s just yet, refusing to look at the woman that stood next to him as you pulled away from the steel railing of the gallery. Your feet mindlessly carrying you to the unchosen prince, your palms shaking as you took his hand. Any lady in your position would quake with blushed prospects, “she’s just shy” you were terrified, betrayed and above all bleeding.

There will be a part 2 :)

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hana-no-seiiki · 1 year

Text

RECREATIONAL

THIRD PART TO FEROZEVE SERIES : [PREVIOUS] [MASTERLIST] [NEXT?]

YANDERE POP IDOL! OC x MANAGER! READER x YANDERE ROCKSTAR SMUT

tw/cw: reader uses gn pronouns but has a dicc, unprotected seggs, unrealistic seggs, anal seggs. switch! reader, switch! eve, gong! feroze. dub/non con.

status: unedited.

thank you hubby @moyazaika for letting me use your son again, and for the voters that picked this fic (🤰🏻) in the emoji poll.

By pressing the Keep Reading button you are confirming that you’re 18 and above + consent to seeing dark / sexual content.

“Mx. Ma-na-ger~ !” Eve drawled as he glomped you from behind. Despite not hearing what he had to say or do aside from assaulting you with hugs, you were already dreading the next moments of your life.

“Eve, no.” You tried slipping away but are unfortunately unable to defeat hours of dance routines and gyms sessions Eve had to go through as a part of his training and work.

“But Mx. Ma ↗ na ↘ ger ↗ ! ! ! ” His pitch fluctuated as you had resorted to shaking him off instead.

“Eve, I already told you that I’m busy.”

And then he pouted.

You see, when an idol like the Jisoo Han pouts it is almost as if the entire universe has ended. It’s like the feeling you’d get when every puppy or god forbid every kitten dies. The feeling of utter sadness so insurmountable you almost crumble to your knees.

Eve had the power to create smiles and laughter across the globe, but he also had the power to completely destroy any semblance of happiness from a person. You knew that power very well.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, desperately attempting not to cringe or cry from his actions.“Fine. I’ll be free next evening. Don’t. Bother. Rosy.”

You thought he’d be satisfied with your answer but he only pouts even harder.

You sighed. This absolute man-child. “. . . Soo.”

He immediately flicks back to his cheery self. A boyish grin on his face as he separated himself from you and skipped away. “Okay~! I’ll see ya soon.”

That was way too easy. Oh god. What could that demon be thinking of?

As soon as he left, another one of your man-children came into your office. Groaning, he plopped himself atop one of your bean bag chairs.

Feroze doesn’t utter a word, and you could tell that his hangover had been a pain to deal with. Usually he’d already be all over you. It sort of reminded you of how he was during your early days with him. Still, he made the effort to show up despite the massive migraine he should be feeling right now.

“I—“ You started, but you are unable to finish your words as he’d already beat you to the chase.

“I love you, really love you, but if your next words are I told you so. Just don’t.”

Darn, he knew you too well. Time to take a different approach to asserting your correctness.

“Well you know what they say—“

“I’m going out to eat.” He seemingly teleported in front of you, flicking your forehead. And then, he was out. Just poof. Disappeared.

You stared at the hangover medicine you prepared for him located in the drawer of your desk, and humphed, “. . .He didn’t even let me finish.”

There are many stages of love in Urdu and Arab world. Attraction, love and even death, but infatuation; عشق (ishq) was what Feroze identified with. Literally speaking it just meant love. Symbolically however, it meant so, so much more.

It was both all of love in itself and a stage of it. It was above the notion of logic or sense. Just as how he felt with you.

❝

Ishq Nazuk-Mizaj Hai Behad (Love has a delicate disposition)

Aql Ka Bojh Utha Nahin Sakta (It cannot bear burden of logic)

❞

As an Urdu poet Akbar Allahabadi would say.

Feroze’s entire existence revolved around yours. He breathed for you, he’d die for you. The biggest regret in his life was how he didn’t meet you sooner, didn’t treat you the way you were supposed to sooner.

Feroze wasn’t actually mad or even annoyed by your words earlier. He could never, ever have such feelings towards you. He just needed an excuse to follow Eve. As to why he didn’t just do that? Well he had to see your face that morning to cleanse himself, of course. One look at you per day and all the negative energy in his life seemed to just fade away.

“Mr. Khan! How’s the hangover?” Speaking of negative energy.

Eve and him had been bonding quite well over the past few weeks. It was a miracle in itself. Despite the former’s overt interest in Feroze’s manager, he found the boy too cute to be murdered in his sleep. He had this ‘baby-ghorl’ aura about him that Feroze couldn’t help but be amused with. The rockstar could see why this idol had so many fans.

Eve approached him, his usually sparkly grin covered by the dark mask his disguise included. Promotional material for their collab had already been released to the public and has thus put them in the spotlight once more. Trying to go to that bar last night was already hell in the first place, meeting in a cafe where anyone could see them? That was just a wish for death.

Eve slid a small glass bottle that looked a lot like those syrups they marketed for younger kids. Or poison, one or the other.

Without a word, Feroze downed the liquid. And then immediately regretted his decision, hacking at the taste of it all, “What did you just give to me?”

“A hangover cure. Those usually don’t taste good no matter what country I go to. I knew you were a lightweight but I barely got to drink before you —“ Eve halted his bullying as soon as he saw the deathly glare Feroze threw at him.“Fine~ Fine! I’m sure Mx. Manager already made fun of your situation.”

Feroze turned his hazel eyes to the bottle.

“You spiked my drink, didn’t you?”

Eve doesn’t freeze up, he doesn’t even flinch, not a sign of guilt could be found on him. Feroze wouldn’t be surprised if the ravenette actually didn’t feel a hint of remorse for what he did. He acknowledges the boy’s fearless attitude. “I’m sorry?”

“I said, you spiked my drink didn’t you? Last night. I saw you put it in, but decided you could have a little fun with your ex-manager.” He emphasized your current status, that being out of Eve’s employment and in his. “So, did you?”

Eve twirled a lock of his bangs, avoiding eye contact. His ears had turned completely red. The usual glow about him somewhat dissipated. “Not enough.”

Feroze who was much less careful about his reputation and actions took Eve’s hand in his and held it, tightly. His callused fingers contrasted greatly to Eve’s soft, moisturized hands. “Well, we can’t have our Soo here feeling unsatisfied do we?” He massaged each finger vigorously while simultaneously keeping it as still as possible.

“What’s the catch? You wouldn’t just give away the love of your life away. Would you?”

“No. You’re right. I would never. But the benefits outweigh the negatives. I believe this collaboration of ours will help everyone in the long run.”

“Deal.”

You loved schedules and planning. It was everything to you. It’s why you worked as a manager for all these years. The intricacies of time management gave you a rush you could not explain. Perhaps this emotion was akin to what Feroze confessed to feeling about you. Though you heavily doubted it was that close.

You weren’t the type to beat up people if they didn’t follow you or your beloved schedule.

Were you?

In any case, as appointed, you arrived at Eve’s and Feroze’s shared studio. Perfectly on time.

“So, what did you want me for?”

“Well, I was recording this track. I already have Mr. Khan’s vocals and mine I just need . . .”

You had the knack to read Eve’s mind before he even spoke. It was why he adored you so much. Studying him was just a part of the job in your case. Despite his almost angelic demeanor, he felt more like the child you had to babysit rather than a proper partner.

“No way. I can’t sing.” You waved your hands in protest. You can barely hold a regular note for too long, how were you able to keep up with those trained singers the company usually hired for these things? You were meant to be in the backstage, not the center or anywhere near there.

Eve easily shoved you in the recording booth, “That’s why I’m here silly. To help you, now get in the booth.”

“Eve—“ You mouthed, trying your best to get out. But the exit had already been locked. Damn, how was he so fast?

And it’s official. The idol had you trapped. So easily as well. He should have done this ages ago. “Soo.” Your voice barely came out, anxiety hindering its proper passage. This wasn’t going to actually be a recording session was it?

His right hand then grabbed your outer thigh. You flinched, you thrash around, but he doesn’t stop.“Soo, I can’t do this with you — gah —“

“But why not~? Aren’t you a good little manager? You’ll do this for me won’t you?” He unbuttoned your pants, slowly pulling them down. Savoring the reveal of your precious [s/c] skin. While his scarlet eyes were firmly glued to your face, his left hand wandered to your clothed cock. Three fingers pressed against it, moving up and down gently.

“Mmf — For your information, I’m only obliged to follow Feroze’s —“ He stopped.

His appendages leave your side in a second. You were utterly disappointed in yourself as you realized you already missed his skin making contact with your body.

“Soo?”

He stood still for seconds until his fingers twitched.

After which, he laughed.

“HAHAHAHAHA! You think you were ever someone else’s? You’re mine, [Y/N]. Mine.”

It unnerved you. Not how maniacal his words or his guffawing, no, it was how genuine it felt in comparison to his usual one. In fact you were so caught up with his breakdown that you couldn’t even protest as he carried you in his arms, shoving lube up your little asshole and making you face the wall.

You hadn’t even realized his own penis was not covered anymore.

Everything just hits you when he thrusted in. Filling you with one slide.“Now make music for me, hm?”

Despite the microphone being a little too far from you, you were positive it could pick up the moan you just made.

It was like you felt everything, pain and pleasure mixed inside you and you couldn’t tell if you were enjoying this sick act or completely hated it. But one thing was for sure, you do nothing to stop him. Completely consumed by the feeling of his dick rearranging your organs.

“Louder, baby.” He picked up the pace, before shortly cumming inside you without warning. A reminder of his status as a virgin despite his personality. It doesn’t take long for him to get going again. “I wanted to be inside you for so long. I want to stay inside you forever.”

As Eve started speeding up, a mop of red hair entered your vision, “Rosy—“

You expected anger, you expected a murder you’d have to somehow cover up. But all your current client does was grab Eve by the shoulders.

“Ease up there, Soo.”

Eve’s horrifically ‘calm’ expression switches back into his playful once he faced Khan. You didn’t even know how much fear was pumping within your veins until he calmed down (at least outwardly) “C’mon. I know even you wouldn’t be able to resist this little hole.”

Were they . . . in this together? No they couldn’t be. They were just so different.

If only you knew how alike they were.

The limited space in the booth didn’t really feel good to the three of you upon Feroze’s words “Scooch over.” Eve had to back up while he was still inside you, allowing the other man to squeeze in.

Feroze grabbed your chin with one hand making you look to his face. “Look at me, meri jaan. My ishq.” and your cock with the other, tenderly stroking your member. “I love you alright? More than anything else in this world.”

“Then —“

“Let you go? Not a chance in hell.” He chuckled, increasing the pace of his handjob.

If you thought that Eve using you was too much, it was nigh impossible to imagine the stimulation you were currently receiving. “Sh- sto . . hah — p. Please.”

“Don’t break them yet, I haven’t even came.” You could however imagine the pout on Eve’s face. His thrusts stuttering from its once regular rhythm.

“Ssh. We’re doing this to record their pretty voice aren’t we?”

“Stop! Wh - hah - what about Soo’s reputation?”

Eve would use those words to blame you for his future breakdowns later on, your show of concern making his dick even harder than it already. But for now he could only express this feeling of gratitude by pushing it in deeper. “I’m a solo act now baby. It’s fine~”

“F-Fuhuck, I’m — “ He came inside you the second time, making your slick hole even wetter and causing you to cum all over Feroze’s hands.

“My turn.” The older man yanked you away. Eve’s semen dripped down to your thighs and legs as he’d separated from you.

“Hey!” He protested. But if there was one person who was more swole than Eve it was Feroze. The man putting him in a slightly bended position; looking away, and you in between the two singers.

“Hold on to his waist, meri jaan.”

You do as your told, feeling Feroze align your dick to Eve’s hole. Wait- he was completely dry how would he-

The answer was that Eve would take you no matter what. It did not feel great to either one of you, the only lubrication that existed was your previous ejaculation, and part of you knew that Feroze intended that. “Mmf—!” Mostly because he doesn’t take any time to warn you before he also inserts himself but in you. “I haven’t done something like this in ages . . . but nothing could compare to this”

Feroze helps you into a rhythm that ensured that you were either completely inside Eve or him inside you at every moment. Overstimulating you once more. When it came for his turn to thrust however, he put so much power that often times it would move you forwards and go a bit to deep.

“Shit! You’re doing that on purpose!”

“Not my fault you’re too excited to put a lil lube in!”

“I- I - think I’m — ! “ You closed your eyes, feeling your second release. A high you’ve never once reached before. A kind of high that ruins others as you’d find yourself chasing it.

But you knew, you knew it’d be impossible without these two men aiding you in that climb.

Feroze was right behind you as you reached the top. Thick, hot ropes of cum spill all over inside of you.

The three of you took deep breaths, but it was only a short respite for what would be a long, long, night. “We’re not done yet. I only came once.”

“The hell—“

Feroze turned you to face him, positioning you atop Eve’s back. His handsome face looked stunning even underneath the dim lighting.

You did not know if his following question was directed towards you or ravenette, “You won’t mind this, won’t you?” Just that his cock had already been enveloped by Eve’s canal.

“Mr. Khannnn, you could have let me lube up.” The idol complained between moans.

“You took them no problem but not me?”

“You’re different! And bigger! Ah, fuck!”

“You deserve a little punishment for spiking my drink. Besides their cum should be more than enough.”

“He did what?!”

“Ack—!”

“Take it, کنجر (kanjr)”

Feroze cackled at your worried face and Eve’s pain, pounding into him without a care in the world. His sadism really knew no bounds.

You three ended up staying the studio all night. Your hole and cock being used up for all its worth.

The album ended up being a massive hit. The title track, the one with your ‘vocals’ ended up breaking records and staying at the top of charts for months.

Comments on the song largely talking about how realistic the sensual sounds of sex in the background was. Completely unaware that it was the two famous singers making love to you.

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2023

fun fact: i was rocking out to mlp music while writing this lol (that and my cousin watching van helsing in the background, very very loudly)

#hns.eve #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagine #yandere oc #yandere fic #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x you #yandere x you #yandere idol #yandere rockstar #feroze #yandere ocs x reader #yandere story #yandere core #yan core #oc x reader

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tawaifeddiediaz · 1 year

Photo

BUCK & EDDIE + urdu words for love

(for @bieddiediaz 💖💘)

(image description below the cut)

[Image ID: nine gifs of Eddie Diaz and Evan Buckley from 9-1-1. All gifs are in black and white. In the middle is colorful Urdu text with the word for love. On top of that is the transliterated, Romanized Urdu in sweeping text. Below the Urdu word is a sentence to describe the type of love in between two backward slashes:

GIF 1: Two gifs transitioning: Buck tugging Eddie into his side, shaking him playfully in 2.14; Buck and Eddie looking at each other before Buck looks away with a wide smile in 4.12. The pink text reads, "Pyaar" in Urdu, with the transliteration above it. The description reads, "a love for the beginnings"

GIF 2: Four gifs transitioning: Buck's gaze finding Eddie in 5.01; Eddie smiling knowingly at Buck in 5.01; from 6x01, Buck watching Eddie over the kitchen table, looking knowingly at him; Eddie looking up at Buck venting with a fond smile, his eyebrows lifting. The red text reads, "Mohabbat" in Urdu, with the transliteration above it. The description reads, "a love to connect the souls"

GIF 3: Two gifs transitioning: Buck digging frantically through the mud where the crane collapses on top of Eddie in 3.15; Eddie's eyes widening as he takes in the blood splattered on Buck in 4.14, before he asks if he's hurt. The orange text reads, "Deewangi" in Urdu, with the transliteration above it. The description reads, "a love that transcends madness."

GIF 4: Two gifs transitioning: Eddie tilting his head as he validates Buck's feels in 4.04; Buck asking Eddie if it's enough for Christopher to love the person he's dating in 5.02. The yellow text reads, "Yaari" in Urdu, with the transliteration above it. The description reads, "a love that blooms from friendship."

GIF 5: Two gifs transitioning: Buck looking at Eddie with a shy smile as he tells Eddie that it's a miracle in 2.14; Eddie smiling fondly behind Buck as the other man relishes the chance to pull out the chainsaw in 6.01, looking away as his grin widens. The green text reads, "Chahat" in Urdu, with the transliteration above it. The description reads, "a desire, a pining for another soul."

GIF 6: Four gifs transitioning: From 2.04, Buck telling Eddie how Carla can help with Christopher, then Eddie giving him a grateful smile; From 4.03, Buck looking up at Eddie as Chris asks to go to his house to play video games, and Eddie crossing his arms as he gives Buck an expectant look. The blue text reads, "Aashiqui" in Urdu, with the transliteration above it. The description reads, "a love to fall in, to never stop falling."

GIF 7: Two gifs transitioning: Buck and Eddie hugging in 3.06; Buck strutting towards Eddie with his hand on his belt in 3.09. The blue-purple text reads, "Junoon" in Urdu, with the transliteration above it. The description reads, "a love that dissolves into a passion like none other."

GIF 8: Two gifs transitioning: From 4.14, Buck looking up at Eddie with an innocent, unsure expression, and Eddie telling him that he'll be Christopher's legal guardian. The purple text reads, "Ishq" in Urdu, with the transliteration above it. The description reads, "a love that surpasses this life and the next."

GIF 9: Two gifs transitioning: Buck and Eddie hugging at Eddie's probation ceremony in 2.18; Buck and Eddie hugging at Buck's welcome back party in 3.01, grinning widely. The brown text reads, "Dil-Lagi" in Urdu, with the transliteration above it. The description reads, "a love for the heart to attach to another."

/end ID]

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etfrin · 3 months

Text

ᴍᴀᴜʟᴀ ᴍᴇʀᴇ ᴍᴀᴜʟᴀ ᴍᴇʀᴇ — ᴄᴏʀɪᴏʟᴀɴᴜꜱ ꜱɴᴏᴡ ♡

☆　ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: SFW | Coriolanus Snow

☆　ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: young! Coriolanus Snow x desi! fem! Reader

☆　ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Coryo and reader dance for a Holud!

☆　ᴀ/ɴ: hope y'all like this!

masterlist | navigation

“yaara raaj yeh usne hai mujh par khola

ki hai ishq mohabbat, jiske dil main

usko pasand karta hai maula

mera dil yahi bola, mera dil yahi bola”

— music ends, the sound from the speaker fading.

Coriolanus looks at you, “The ending was beautiful. What did she say?”

You replied to him, trying your best to translate the song, “My heart told me that, my heart told me that oh my friend he has opened, told me a hidden secret, that whose heart is full of love. God only loves that person.”

You tried to make him understand the song better. How it's about love, and the guy is so in love that he's mesmerized by every one of her actions, and his heart is filled with passion and love. Coriolanus nods, trying his best to understand.

“And you want you and I to dance to this in the Holud ceremony?” He asked, his doe eyes wide.

You hold his hand, your eyes turning puppy-like to convince him. “Please Coryo! All of my cousins have two left feet! And my parents already like you so they won't bombard me with questions! Please!”

“Dove, I have never danced,” he begins to state, “Especially for such an important event!”

“Come on, Coryo!” You whine, “Don't make me ask Sejanus!”

Coriolanus knew it was a tactic, it was blatantly obvious that he always tried to one-up Sejanus when it came to everything. He didn't count on the fact that you would use it to your advantage. You pull this card every time and… he gives in every single time.

He gritted his jaw and muttered, “Fine. Don't go to Plinth.”

And you smile at him, so pretty and bright, like the moon, like the sun. There's no comparison, you were both to him. His night and day. His beginning and end. His future and his past.

“Thank you, Coryo!”

Then the practice began. You rent out a dancing studio for a few days before the Holud ceremony. Your other cousins practice their choreographies. You had decided that you'd dance a duo with Coriolanus only. He liked the idea that it was the two of you in the performance. It made it feel intimate.

He tried to follow the simple steps, dancing to the beat of the six-minute-long song. But it was often that he was too fast, his step too quick, losing the coordination both of you had. The dancing style wasn't familiar to him, more similar to your culture than his. So, you couldn't even be annoyed at him, despite the obvious pout your lips formed every time he messed up again.

In the end, he wondered if Sejanus Plinth would have been a better choice. Surely, something as unnecessary as dancing is done in the districts often. The thought that Sejanus might have been a good fit for this and not him, made Coryo work twice as hard however he failed.

It wasn't for him. But you were determined so you decided that the first five minutes would be your solo and then when the part of the female comes on, he will sweep in like a prince. Take you in his arms, and waltz-like you both were royalty in love. That would work.

And it did work. You did your solo choreography perfectly and the same with Coriolanus now finally getting the hang of it all.

The day of the Holud came. You are on stage, in your white lehenga. You were a swan, dancing so beautifully that he nearly missed his cue to jump in. Muscle memory drags him on stage, his arm around your waist. The puzzle fits in place as the song continues and everyone watches.

“yaara raaj yeh usne hai mujh par khola

ki hai ishq mohabbat, jiske dil main

usko pasand karta hai maula

Mera dil yahi bola, mera dil yahi bola”

He knew the song had come near the end. Coriolanus forgot that you two weren't alone in this magical moment. That most of the elitists that were invited tonight had eyes on you both. It doesn't deter Snow from his next actions.

He leans in. You don't pull back. He catches your lips with him with the softest kiss. He enjoys the collective gasp of everyone in the crowd. He claimed you as his in front of the Capitol.

The next wedding that will be held will be yours and his.

He doesn't mind that one bit ♡

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toruro · 11 months

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svt as bollywood songs

a/n. purely self indulgent. not much newer bollywood tho bc these r mostly from my childhood :3

seungcheol — hookah bar. reminds me of svt's drunk live where cheol was just taking shots and being cheol :3

jeonghan — criminal. probably the hardest one to figure out but :c yap

joshua — raabta! BUT SPECIFICALLY THE ARIJIT SINGH VER. so romantic and gentle and loving and so joshua

jun — jhak maar ke bc i feel like love with jun would sound exactly like this

soonyoung — make some noise for the desi boyz ... so upbeat and energetic and perfect for hoshi's energy

wonwoo — tum se hi OKAY LOOK NOT JUST THE MOOD OF THE SONG BUT the scene in the movie where they guy is in his business clothes and wearing glasses and him and kareena dance ... so wonwoo coded ugh

jihoon — subhanallah! very mellow tone but amazing singing and i think the lyrics are really fitting for woozi!

seokmin — tu jaane na >_< love this song so much and like idk just the vibes ?! remind me of dk and can't stop thinking about him singing this

mingyu — deewangi deewangi ... yk that part where they say all cool boys c'mon make some noise ... yeah ... yeah ...

minghao — subha hone na de. my favorite bollywood song ever so it must go to the loml

seungkwan — nachde ne saar ... such a happy bright song reminds me so much of kwannie c:

vernon — ishq wala love since it's slow and soft song and idk how to describe it but the way that the song talks about love reminds me of vernon

chan — iski uski u will just need to listen to this song to understand how chan it is

#svt #seventeen #seungcheol #jeonghan #joshua hong #jun #junhu #wonwoo #soonyoung #hoshi #woozi #jihoon #seokmin #dokyeom #mingyu #minghao #vernon #seungkwan #dino #lee chan #📃 lists

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boobo13cambridge · 11 months

Text

O Re Piya | Kylian Mbappé

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x f.Reader

Warnings: kissing, fingering.

Summary: It’s the day of your brother’s wedding, and you're running late. The main culprit: your handsy husband who can’t seem to control himself seeing you in a lehenga.

A/N: Hello, everyone! I’ve been MIA for a few weeks because I was dealing with a lot of personal issues. I wrote this sporadically and I really wanted to finish this for you guys. Please leave me feedback, I would greatly appreciate it. Enjoy, lovelies ❣️

Nazrein bolen duniya bole

(The glances are telling, the world knows)

dil ki zaban haaye dil ki zubaan

(The story of my heart, oh, the story of my heart)

Ishq maange ishq chahe koi toofan

(Love prays, love wishes for a hurricane (to stir the life within))

The sun rose high in the sky, painting the world in a warm and golden glow. The flowers, arranged with care and love, burst into full bloom, their petals as vibrant and colourful as the bride's lehenga. The sun's rays kissed each delicate petal, illuminating their beauty with an ethereal glow.

The gentle breeze danced through the trees, carrying with it the sweet scent of blooming flowers and the delicate rustling of leaves. The birds chirped merrily, their songs adding to the symphony of the day. The sound was a soft and soothing melody, one that filled the air with tranquillity and joy.

The guests, dressed in their finest attire, basked in the warmth of the sun and the beauty of the day, and the groom’s sister was still hidden from the common eye as she struggled to get ready, the emotional toll of the day a huge weigh on her delicate shoulders. Thankfully, her husband was out helping her family to lessen the burden and give her some breathing room to get ready.

As the young beauty came out of the bathroom leaving behind a cloud of jasmine and oud, her makeup delicately done to match the pink hues of her lehenga and her long black hair flowing down her back in delicate waves, her eyes were immediately drawn to the soft, delicate hues of her lehenga. A vision in light pink, the fabric flowed like a gentle stream, its folds and creases catching the light of the sun in a breathtaking display.

The intricate embroidery, painstakingly crafted by skilled artisans, was a masterpiece of intricate design, with every stitch and bead radiating its own unique brilliance. The shimmering stones, like sparkling stars in the sky, adorned the hem and neckline of the lehenga, casting a soft and iridescent glow.

She carefully slipped into the choli, the bodice fit her like a glove, accentuating her curves. Next, the young woman delicately dragged on the lehenga, the flowing skirt that trailed behind her seemed to float like a soft cloud, dancing around her legs with each step. She felt like one of those Disney princesses that she used to love as a little girl.

Her eyes caught the reflection in the mirror, and she gasped at the sight before her. The lehenga had transformed her, turning her into a radiant beauty. She reached for the matching dupatta, draping it over her right shoulder and allowing it to cascade down her back and flow in the front in a soft wave.

As she finished getting ready, spraying the perfume her beloved got her, spreading the rich aroma of amber and jasmine around the room, her very own prince charming entered the room. His dark eyes widened, and his breath caught in his throat as he beheld her beauty.

"Mon amour," he whispered, his voice filled with wonder and desire, "you are absolutely stunning. How did I ever get so lucky to have you?"

His hands reached out to caress the delicate fabric of her lehenga, his fingers tracing the intricate embroidery with awe. His gaze lingered on the gentle curve of her waistline, the soft curve of her hips, and the delicate tilt of her plump lips.

A warm blush crept up her cheeks as she closed her eyes and basked in the sweet affection of his touch, savouring the feel of his hands on her skin. “Kylian…arrête. We need to be downstairs, they’re waiting for us.”

"Mmm, bébé. Je suis fou de toi," he murmured, his voice low and husky with lust. "You take my breath away, mon amour. You are like a goddess, come to earth to bless me with your beauty."

She felt her cheeks darken as he whispered words of adoration and love into her ear. Her heart swelled with affection and gratitude for this man who made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

Kylian drew her close, his arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her into his embrace. He pressed his lips to the nape of her neck, trailing kisses down her smooth skin each one filled with deep and abiding love that she felt deep in her bones. Her body responded to his touch, her skin igniting with a fire that burned hot and bright. She revelled in the sensation of his hands on her body, leaning into him, his touch igniting her senses and sending her heart racing.

But even as her desire for him grew, she knew they couldn't stay here forever. They needed to join the rest of the family, to celebrate her brother's wedding. People would get suspicious if they didn’t come down, especially as the groom’s older sister, her presence was imperative.

"Kylian, we need to go," she murmured, her voice tinged with reluctance. "Everyone is waiting for us."

The young football star groaned in frustration, his hands tightening around her waist. "Just a few more minutes, ma chérie," he pleaded. "I can't resist you in this lehenga. You look so beautiful."

Despite the minutes ticking away, she smiled at his words, slowly losing the will to push him away. “Kylian, s’il-vous-plaît, we need t-”

Kylian’s lips found hers in a fierce, passionate kiss, cutting her off. The flames of desire and passion that had been building between the two lovers erupted and surrounded them in an inferno. Kylian's hands roamed freely over her body, tracing the curves of her hips and the gentle slope of her breasts. She moaned softly, her body responding to his touch with a fire that burned deep within her. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as he kissed her hungrily, his hands trying to reach every part of her body with increasing urgency.

She felt his muscles tense under her fingertips as he lifted her effortlessly, carrying her towards the bed. He lay her down gently, his eyes never leaving her as he hovered over her, his breath hot on her skin. Looking into his eyes, she felt an indescribable emotion pass through her, it was as if every particle in her body was intertwining with her beloved’s. The surge of emotions made her breathless as she gently cradled Kylian’s face in her hands. “Je t’aime si fort, Ky.”

Kylian’s intense gaze softened slightly as he turned slightly to kiss her hand, “Je t’aime, mon coeur. You’re my everything, my complete half. I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have you in my life.”

His confession brought tears to her eyes. A single drop threatened to fall but he gently wiped it, summarizing in that moment all that he was to her.

Chalna aahiste ishq naya hai

(Tread carefully as this love is new)

Pehla Yeh Vada Humne Kiya Hai

(This is the first time I've taken a vow)

Uniting their lips in a soft embrace, Kylian gently swiped her bottom lip with his tongue. She obtained her mouth to let him in, as their tongues came together in a passionate dance that sent sparks to her every extremity. As they grew needy, Kylian's hands roamed over her body with an intense hunger, his lips trailing down her neck, pausing to nuzzle against her collarbone. She gasped in pleasure as he continued to explore her body, his touch igniting sparks of pleasure that spread through her like wildfire.

His fingers found their way to the soft curves of her breasts, and he squeezed them gently, eliciting a soft moan from her lips. “Kylian, more.”

His touch was electric, sending waves of desire through her body. She arched her back, pressing herself into him, eager for more of his touch. Kylian's fingers kneaded her breasts with increasing urgency, his touch growing more intense as he sought to pleasure her. He toyed with her nipples, flicking them with his thumb and forefinger, causing her body to tremble with delight. She moaned his name, her breath coming in short gasps as she surrendered to his touch.

One of his hands trailed down her lehenga lifting it up with urgency so he could explore wet heat between her soft thighs. His breathing grew ragged as his fingers brushed the soaking lacy fabric.

“Kylian, we can’t. We have to go,” she protested while pushing herself into his fingers for more friction. “Bébé, let me just make you feel good, oui?”

He pushed her panties to the side and shoved two fingers in her tight eat as she let out a loud moan. Kylian didn't want to silence her wanting to hear her moan her name in that breathless, needy tone.

He curved his fingers reaching that spot that had her eyes crossing as she clung to his muscled back, desperate whimpers leaving her painted lips. Kylian buried his face in the valley of her breasts, his tongue leaving a wet sheen that gleamed in the sunlight.

As the knot in her stomach tightened, Kylian increased his pace, his fingers and mouth working in perfect harmony to drive her to the brink of ecstasy. She clung to him desperately, her nails digging into his skin as she surrendered herself to his touch.

“Ky-Kylian, I’m gonna cum. Please, let me cum,” she begged as the pleasure was too much.

“Cum, bébé. Cum for me.”

Searing hot pleasure raced through her body, as she exploded, tightening around Kylian’s fingers which were still thrusting at a steady, helping her through her orgasm.

As she came down, her breathing hard and cheeks high with colour, she opened her eyes to Kylian looking down at her with soft eyes as he placed delicate kisses on her face.

“Hi, mon coeur. Enjoy yourself?” he asked cheekily. Giggling she grabbed his cheeks and bit his nose playfully. “You know I did it, you cheeky brat.”

A loud knock on the door made them both freeze, the moment shattered by the intrusion. "Kylian, Y/N, it's time to go! The baraat* is ready!" called out a voice from outside the door.

“Coming!”, she answered slightly panicked. Pushing her husband off and rushing to the mirror. Her lehenga choli was a little crinkled, and her mascara was smudged under her eyes. “Kylian! You ruined my dress and makeup, merde.”

Rolling his eyes, Kylian came behind her and gently wrapped his arms around her, leaving a quick kiss on her neck. “T’inquiète, mon amour. I’ll help you, you’ll be fine.”

Shaking her head, she realized at that moment that while her beloved was definitely going to get them in trouble, she wouldn't trade him for anything in the world.

End Note:

*Baraat: a celebratory wedding procession that escorts the groom, who is traditionally on horseback, to the site of the wedding.

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taleofdaringdo · 2 months

Text

Good Omens brainrot is so strong that I hear and see them everywhere.

I was reading an Urdu poetry by an old Indian poet of late 18 century Mirza Ghalib.

And it gave me Crowley such strong Crowley vibe. It was what I imagine Crowley's monologue could be after the heartbreak he went through.

Poem Ishq Mujhko Nahin. Below is the translation

There is no love between us and your feelings towards me are not love let it be madness then and let my madness be the cause of your fame. Don’t break the ties between you and me. Even if nothing remain between us, then let the enmity remain. What is this displeasure that you are showing in my presence? If you don’t like it openly, then meet me alone someplace isolated I am also not enemy of my own self. So what if a total stranger is in love with you. whatever you are, it is because of your being. If one is not aware of this eternal truth, then let there be ignorance. Life is passing by every moment like a lightning flash. Despite this, there is lot of time to engage in the rigors of love. I am not the one who has given up on this relationship of ours. I still believe in it. If not love, then it be another torment. Give me at least something, O you unjust One (Oh Lord! Keeper of the unfair blue sky). Give me at least the permission to plead and appeal. I will accept this habit. Even if this indifference of yours is a habit of yours. This playfulness will finally end one day. So even if union is not possible, then let the desire remain at least.

Yes I'm crying cause the original text is so beautiful and heartbreaking. The translation doesn't do justice and I'm totally imagining Crowley crying over it 🥺

#good omens #good omens 2 #crowley #everything reminds me of them #everything is good omens #good omens and 18th century poems #good omens meta #ineffable husbands #crowley x aziraphale #good omens season 2

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bambisnc · 26 days

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seunghan as hindi songs is a NEED

seunghan as hindi songs!

chogada. seunghan is literal the human incarnate of this song i take no argument tyvm. the softcore + lovecore vibes are just so pure :( i can so see him singing this to you with all the earnestness of the world in his eyes; and imagine him pulling you in mid performance during the dance think that one rapunzel scene :((

next we got ishq wala love~! cutie coded songs for the cutiest bbg ever c'mon,, and the love triangle vibes of the movie... but no because think of him being the soft, sweet childhood friend male lead of the love triangle tm but the thing is : with him you'd also get the lowkey possessive, mysterious, quiet guy AND the sunshiney one..

moving onto a black and white one; pyaar hua ikraar hua. this is THE old timey forbidden, star crossed lovers song ,, the sharing of a single umbrella out in the rain <3 the guy being like "why is your heart afraid of love..?" and the girl answering "its saying that the road to love is difficult and that the final destination is unknown/hidden" (loosely translated) siiiiighs

one of my other fav old songs -> likhe jo khat tujhe. i mentioned in my op : true love hc for riize, seunghan is such a "writes long love letters (w cute self-written poetry,,) on perfumed paper, decorates the envelope with kisses, puts in dried flowers w the letter" kinda bf <3 the lowkey playful (dare i say coy), teasing vibes of the song fit him so well tooooo

also for your consideration, mere sapno ki raani !!! like yess girl (gn) he is the type to chase after your train in a car - probably with sohee's company - and serenade you mid journey yk ?? also the lyrics. the way he describes the female lead. it's seunghan. it's him. and again the vibes of the music really remind me of him

back to like 2018 music,...... hawayein. okay but this song was really popular at my school for the longest time and i swear i thought i'd never wanna listen to it ever again - but i happened to hear it recently and oh my god./// the softness and the yearning which i think is really well captured w the high notes and clinky music :(( the ease and smoothness really make me think of seunghan.. imagine a strangers to lovers/summer fling with him except he totally is the type to get attached and track you down after you've bid what you thought was the last farewell. prob shows up with like a rose at your door while it's raining like ".. hi."

(okay alsox2 -> radha from the same movie ._. LIKE IMAGINE js screaming out songs at the top of ur lungs w him, full on vibing almost like ur drunk and mid way he'd grab your hand and intertwine the fingers with his own uff)

special mentions : ZAALIMA. he's so in love with you and he WILL make it known to people whether they wanna know or not. + apna bana le - the malewife vibes are strong w this one <3 he'd be so down bad that everyone except u and him would know about it fr,,

notes : pushing my good old fashioned lover boy hani agenda fr !! + why do i feel like w each member the posts r getting longer.. + [m.list]

tags : @nicholasluvbot <3

[wonbin's vers] [eunseok's vers]

#order's up~! 📋⋆𐙚 #cakes.♡︎🥮#seunghan x reader #riize x reader #riize imagines #riize #seunghan #riize fluff #riize seunghan #hong seunghan #kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop x reader #kpop imagines #riize scenarios #div by v6que anddd pics by wonbuni !!!!!

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love-belle · 8 months

Text

ishq wala love !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which they're the blueprint for true love and everyone's in love with their love.

for when you find a love that feels like love. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings - language

author's note - im back (im so sorry) i really hope u like it <3 thank you so much for reading, i love you <3

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by kiaraaliaadvani, carmenmmundt, lilymhe and 968,426 others

yourusername ishq wala love ( love like love )

tagged charles_leclerc

13,627 comments

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carmenmmundt 💓

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≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, landonorris, danielricciardo and 875,486 others

charles_leclerc joyeux anniversaire mon soleil 💌 here's to spending my life with you under the sun. ( happy birthday my sun )

tagged yourusername

6,628 comments

username SHE'S SO PRETTY 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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*liked by charles_leclerc*

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