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withleeknow · 2 days

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how he would take care of you during shark week. ⤷ chan / minho / changbin / hyunjin / jisung / felix / seungmin / jeongin

pairing: jisung x f!reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, mentions of periods bc duhhh erhm note: ok so i'm REALLY not sure what this is lmao but i switched up entirely compared to the first installation (with minho) and i think this is the format i'll be sticking with for the rest of the members. i'm still just experimenting and trying to figure how i want to approach doing drabbles/drabble series like this so pls bear with me a little for now lol

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

main masterlist / blurb masterlist / ko-fi

jisung, who can't be trusted with even the simplest of tasks. you should've known better. (and honestly? you did know better, which probably makes the whole thing so much worse.)

jisung, whom you ask to run to the store just because you were too lazy to brave the evening chill yourself and get the shit you need.

jisung, who texts you what size pussy u wear? while he stands in the middle of the aisle, feeling like he's illiterate as he's surrounded by products of different colors and shapes and sizes and wings.

jisung, whose eyes catch a specific pink packaging with pretty flowers that makes him pull out his phone and snap you a picture. this one looks better. yours is boring, he'd text you, to which you'd replied with a dozen question marks before calling him an idiot and telling him to leave the fancy pads and hurry home with the ones you usually use.

jisung, who returns about thirty minutes later holding two large bags in his hands, which definitely contain a lot more than what you had sent him out for - just a pack of overnight pads and some sweets.

jisung, who kisses you in greeting as your eyes narrow suspiciously, then he'd proudly show off the goodies that you didn't need - an assortment of sour candies and chocolates, chips, ice cream bars, your favorite cookies, and lastly, a random purple pouch.

jisung, whose love language looks a lot like making you get diabetes whenever your time of the month rolls around.

jisung, who beams like a kid in a candy store when you ask him about the pouch with a brow raised. "look!" he'd beam, holding the little thing up like it's the most magical invention he's ever come across in his entire life. "it holds your pads! and it has unicorns on it!"

jisung, who doesn't deflate at all when you tell him that you already have one, but instead, he'd tell you to ditch the one you have because it's too "boring" (re: it doesn't have unicorns.)

jisung, who volunteers to carry the pouch for you the next time you go out together, musing to himself about whether or not he should add a little strap so he could wear it like a crossbody bag, not even batting an eye when you stare at him and gape in disbelief.

jisung, who really uses your shark week as an excuse to buy dumb shit for himself and stuff you full of treats.

#stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz fic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #han x reader #han jisung fluff #han jisung scenarios #han jisung x reader #han jisung imagines #han jisung x you #stray kids #han jisung

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httpsserene · 2 months

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𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 “𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤”𝐞𝐝 - 𝐨𝐩. 𝟖𝟏

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: oscar’s girlfriend is feral on main. 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: crack. this is a shitpost, you have been warned. uh this is completely unrealistic, it’s pure vibes okay. this is not an accurate representation of those mentioned. 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: oscar piastri x fem!black!reader 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: smau.

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: i wouldn’t consider myself an oscar girlie but then,,, i opened tumblr and saw the photos of oscar from when he went karting and um…now have another op 81 mess of a smau! this is completely unserious and it’s inspired by the nefarious actions i would do to oscar’s biceps. inspired by @dwarvenchords and @hookhausenschips ‘s reblog lol. it’s short but, enjoy, loves xxx.

insp. 1 | insp. 2 | taglist | feedback & requests | table of contents ↻

instagram

yninstagram • february 28th

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oscarpiastri: love…you couldn’t even save this for the close friends stories? you had to post it on main yninstagram: did you like my joke? oscar “jack”ed piastri LOL im so clever oscarpiastri: ijbol 😐 yninstagram: i’d be pressed but ur muscles are distracting me oscarpiastri: u should cmere and give them a kiss :)

lilymhe: he let u tie a bow around his bicep?!!! omfg i have to do this with alex yninstagram: i don’t think alex has enough muscles to meet the requirement for the bow :/

landonorris: he’s such a simp landonorris: i would never let my girlfriend tie a bow on me 🥱 yninstagram: step 1: have a girlfriend

logansargeant: your freak out on twitter had a slight mentally-ill aura yninstagram: shut the fuck up and get on a podium before you talk to me yninstagram: gangly bitch + not funny didn’t laugh + L

instagram

yninstagram • february 28th • in between my boyfriends tiddies ⚑

liked by, oscarpiastri, mclaren, logansargeant, markwebber, and 1,223,458 others

yninstagram: things to do with your boyfriends muscles; listed in the comments below (a huge thanks to the toto user on twt for FINALLY sending me the photo)

tagged oscarpiastri

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yninstagram 1. tie a bow around them (completed)

➥ user thx for sharing the photo

➥ user FUCK! I CAN’T FIND A PIECE OF PAPER TO WRITE THIS ON

yninstagram 2. kiss them (completed)

➥ user awh how cute! going to nap on the interstate rq

➥ user wait for me!

➥ user omg slumberpartyyyyy

yninstagram 3. touch them (completed)

➥ markwebber there’s a time i thought you were a normal girl

➥ yninstagram who told you to think that??

user i know those arms are rock solid 🥴🤤

user i’m the toto user on twitter !!! she did not kill me y’all !!!

➥ user u were flirting with death babes

➥ user i would not have admitted to this under her post

➥ user you should seek witness protection 🙏🏾

yninstagram 4. have him suffocate you with them (he said no)

➥ oscarpiastri WHY DID YOU INCLUDE THIS ONE

➥ logansargeant i think you’re proving the mentally-ill part y/n

➥ yninstagram u sound jealous logan

➥ user personally, i think if you didn’t want her to say that, you shouldn’t have muscles @/oscarpiastri

➥ oscarpiastri oh! yeah! why didn’t i think of that—lemme just take them off rq 😐 WTH

yninstagram 5. wall sex (?)

➥ oscarpiastri i specifically said not to say #4 and #5 in public

➥ user the question mark is SENDING MEEEEE

➥ yninstagram i mean, i can tell you that he didn’t say no to this one 😈 @/user

➥ landonorris i did not want to see this when i opened ig

➥ yninstagram do us all a favor then and delete ur account x

➥ oscarpiastri what she said^

➥ landonorris :o -> :(

yninstagram 6. draw on them (in progress)

➥ user wait this one is actually cute 🤭

➥ oscarpiastri watching the pure concentration on her face is adorable

➥ user omg she’s so 👉🏼👈🏼 coded

➥ oscarpiastri it tickles lol

➥ yninstagram ur moving around too much

➥ yninstagram might have to tie you to the headboard 😏

➥ user and she’s back on her bs

yninstagram 7. watch him flex for you (ongoing indefinitely)

➥ mclaren do we have your permission to post oscar thirst traps now?

➥ yninstagram i’m sure we could work out something mutually beneficial

oscarpiastri • february 28th • my girl’s basement ⚑

liked by yninstagram, danielricciardo, logansargeant, landonorris, and 1,478,539 others

oscarpiastri she knocked out on my chest halfway through drawing on me. didn’t know this was part of the boyfriend job description, felt like there was some false adverting. overall: 12/10 experience, will be doing this again.

view comments

danielricciardo didn’t know where this was going for a sec but fuck you guys are so cute 🥹

➥ oscarpiastri thank you? i guess

➥ user oh to have my relationship praised by danny ric

➥ user girl ur man responds to your texts two days late

➥ user DAMN u didn’t have to air out my business like thatttt

user WHAT DID SHE USE TO DRAW ON YOU OSCAR??? HELP A GIRL OUT

➥ oscarpiastri its liquid eyeliner 🫡

➥ oscarpiastri she used an eyeshadow palette when she wanted to add colors

➥ user why did i never think of that, she’s so smarttttt

user oscar piastri the MAN that u AREEEE

logansargeant so,,,,are we still getting dinner later orrrrr

➥ user LOL

➥ user omg y/n was right logan IS jealous

➥ logansargeant im not jealous !!!!

➥ user 💀

➥ user okayyyy….we believe you LMAOOOOO

➥ oscarpiastri ijbol 😂

➥ logansargeant stop using ijbol it’s not funny

➥ user this will be the only time that i say i agree with logan on something

➥ logansargeant ur literally a fan account FOR ME?? @/user

➥ user yeah man u didn’t have to bring that up 😒

taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarri @inloveallthetime @mindless-rock @biancathecool @barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz @vetteltea @tallrock35 @iloveyou3000morgan @smartstupyd @spideybv28 @loomiscorpse @hiireadstuff

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steddiealltheway · 6 months

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(I have just hit a very nice (silly) milestone of 6969 followers, so I wrote this little ficlet to celebrate and thank you all for always being so supportive 💛 I hope you enjoy)

Everyone is shocked when Steve and Eddie announce they’re moving in together.

But, to Steve, it’s really a no-brainer. Robin is going away to college, the kids are starting to get their licenses and no longer need a babysitter, and Eddie desperately wants to get out of Hawkins.

So, Steve bought a map, measured the distance between Hawkins and Robin’s college, and marked a spot right in the middle.

Okay, so maybe it ended up being in the middle of a river, but there was a town near there that was perfectly not too far from Hawkins while being far away enough for Eddie to feel safe. As well as being far enough from Robin to give her space at her new school while being close enough that she could easily spend the night at their place whenever she wanted.

But distance wasn’t a problem for anyone, they were mainly concerned about how Steve and Eddie would live with each other and not kill each other.

But after a few weeks, Steve can confidently say that living with Eddie is… nice actually.

Really really nice.

Of course, he had been a little concerned about all their differences and adjusting to having someone always around, but Steve enjoys the company.

Actually, he specifically enjoys Eddie’s company.

Sure, he can be loud and a bit messy, but Steve loves that their small apartment actually feels like a home.

Whenever Robin stops by, she comments about how domestic they’re getting. Especially whenever Eddie randomly appears with a cup of water not even seconds after Steve mentions he was getting thirsty.

But what Steve fails to mention to Robin are all the little other things Eddie does, like when it’s late at night and Eddie brushes the hair off of Steve’s forehead and says, “It’s a little late for me to see those beautiful eyes still open."

Sometimes when they're watching a movie, Steve will fall asleep and wake up to Eddie carrying him to bed as if it's an easy thing to do.

And yeah, maybe Steve finds it overwhelmingly hot, and maybe he clings a little tighter whenever Eddie tries to put him down so they're stuck in a tight embrace that Steve can wave off as a result of being half asleep.

But sometimes Eddie's eyes linger on Steve a little longer than they should or Eddie will throw his arm over the back of the couch and let his fingertips lightly trace over Steve's shoulder or run through his hair gently as if he doesn't even notice himself doing it. And it makes Steve think that maybe, just maybe, Eddie might have feelings for him too.

But just when things are going great, and Steve is thinking about testing the boundaries of their friendship to push more into romantic territory, Eddie starts fucking with him.

The problem is, it's not anything big or obvious that Steve can just laugh off. Instead, Eddie starts messing with the thermostat. The thermostat Steve likes to keep strictly at 71.

But Eddie has decided to set it to 69.

At first, Steve just adjusts it, wondering why Eddie is bumping it down when he's always cold and wraps himself in a blanket, complaining that 71 is too cold.

After two days of back and forth, Steve wonders if the thing is just broken because he hasn't actually seen Eddie mess with it. So, he wanders to Eddie's room and knocks on the door lightly before opening it.

Eddie lays back on his bed with a smirk on his face that instantly alerts Steve that Eddie has in fact been messing with him.

He crosses his arms and leans against the doorway. "Have you been messing with the thermostat?"

Eddie shrugs and comments, "Maybe."

Steve frowns, not sure what the hell kind of game Eddie's playing at. "Well, can you maybe leave it at seventy-one?"

"And if I don't?" Eddie challenges, cocking his head to the side, "What are you going to do about it?"

"Change it back to seventy-one," Steve replies easily. He feels like he's missing something when Eddie's face falters a bit, but he hopes it's just him getting the message to not mess with it. And just in case he doesn't get it, he shuts the door a little more firmly than usual.

Only, two days later, Steve happens to notice that the thermostat is set to 69 again. He scowls and presses the button twice before going off to Eddie's room and knocking on the door again a little harder than usual, wondering why Eddie is trying to mess with him after they had been having such a nice day.

"Come in!" Eddie chirps.

Steve swings the door open and rests his hands on his hips. "You changed it again."

Eddie shrugs and leans back on his bed looking overly comfortable. "Just setting the mood."

"Yeah, you've set the mood, and you set it to annoyed. Stop changing it," Steve says as he starts to close the door. He stops as it's about to close and peaks his head back in. "Please."

With that, he thinks he's done with the whole thing. And after a few days pass, he's pretty much forgotten about the whole incident.

That is, until Robin comes to visit and suddenly asks, "Does it feel slightly colder in here to you?"

Steve groans and walks over to the thermostat, seeing the number 69 staring back at him. He's not sure when Eddie changed it, but he's not even currently there so Steve can yell at him. Instead, he just complains to Robin, "Eddie's been fucking with me and changing the thermostat."

Robin snorts. "Isn't he like perpetually cold all the time?"

"Yes! Which is why I'm so confused about him keeping it at sixty-nine all the time."

Robin pauses and glances over at Steve. "What is he keeping it at?"

"Sixty-nine."

Robin just cackles in response, and Steve glares at her asking, "What?"

"Sixty-nine!" Robin laughs again.

"Real mature, Robin," Steve says, rolling his eyes before the realization hits him. "Oh, Christ."

Robin only laughs harder, but Steve is stuck on the other conversations he had with Eddie which were... definitely miscommunications. Oh god, was Eddie trying to... proposition him?

Robin's laughter dies down enough for her to ask, "What's wrong?"

Steve gives her a look and sits down on the couch next to her, further realizing the thermostat incidents happened after days when the two of them got a little more... friendly than usual.

Steve sighs and explains the entire situation including the things he's left out before including his feelings for Eddie. He's glad that Robin holds in her laughter until after he's done.

"Stop laughing, it's not funny."

Robin manages to say through her laughter, "You both are disasters. But you're both so gone on each other that it's almost a little disgusting." She then stands up and grabs her bag, walking toward the front door.

"Where are you going?" Steve asks, following her.

Robin turns around and gives Steve a look. "I'm leaving before Eddie gets back and you two..." she gestures toward the thermostat.

Steve groans, "Get out, Buckley." He can't help but smile before he pulls her into a hug and digs some money out of his wallet.

"What's this?" Robin asks.

"Gas money for sending you away early."

Robin smiles and salutes him. "I guess this means I'll be coming back tomorrow."

"I'll call in case we're still-"

"Gross, dingus," Robin says with a laugh before she hugs him one more time and whispers, "Thank you for telling me."

Steve just squeezes her a little tighter.

After she leaves, Steve takes a minute to form a plan before Eddie gets back from whatever store he went to. He looks at the thermostat and sets it back to 71 degrees while he tries to think.

Unfortunately, he doesn't get far in his thinking before the front door unlocks and Eddie walks in with a few grocery bags in hand.

Steve just turns around and tries not to look too startled by Eddie's sudden appearance.

Eddie gives him a confused look and gestures outside. "Did I just see Robin leave?"

Steve nods but gives no further explanation, stuck on how the hell he's supposed to approach this subject with Eddie. God, now he understands the thermostat method.

"You okay?" Eddie asks before his eyes settle on the thermostat. "Oh, shit. Sorry, I did that late last night. Can we just forget that that happened? It was... dumb really."

Instead of forgetting it, Steve dramatically reaches up and hits the down button twice. "I think I finally get it." Eddie's eyes widen as Steve crosses his arms and continues, "Setting the mood, right? Or, tell me, what are you going to do about it?"

Eddie looks at him for a second then suddenly drops all the bags in his hands, practically racing down the hallway to Steve and cupping his face in his hands. "Am I reading this right?"

Steve slowly glances at the thermostat. "Well, it does say sixty-nine."

Eddie huffs out a laugh but quickly clarifies, "I don't just want that. I mean... I like you. And I just couldn't think of a good way to bring that up without it being some type of joke. Not that liking you is a joke, but oh god-"

"Eddie," Steve says firmly, stopping his rambling. "I like you, too."

Eddie's face lights up. "Yeah?"

Steve nods as his hands come up to Eddie's waist and pull him in a little closer.

"You like me enough to sixty-"

"Oh, shut up," Steve says with a big smile.

"Make me," Eddie replies, giving Steve an exaggerated wink.

Steve shakes his head and sighs before pulling Eddie into a sweet kiss, both of them smiling too much to make it anything more than a peck. When they pull away, Steve thinks he might murder Eddie when he whispers, "Nice."

But he wouldn't have it any other way.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie ficlet #they're both idiots and i love them #thank you guys for 6969 <3

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darlingofvalyria · 7 months

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❝Ask me, my prince. What a storm is to a dragon.❞

[ Aemond can only breathe through your lungs, through your adoration and love. But when betrayal is nigh, what does it truly beget? ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 6,935 ] | Dark!Aemond Targaryen x Baratheon!Reader, minor, sort of (not really) Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers.

THIS IS A DARK FIC. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

contains— angsty, smut - DD:DNE: kidnapping, coercion, manipulation, possessive & obsessive behaviour, power imbalance, violence (not to reader) (a little bit to reader... i wrote this too close to book canon!aemond), murder, death, massacre, war - canon typical targcest, canon character deaths, canon divergence - dark!aemy - pregnancy, child, allusions to infidelity, mentions of bastard - i took liberties with canon (as i usually do) - #ripellyn you (sorta) will be missed shshs - the only specific reader descript. i did is the baratheon dark hair ok? ok - nsfw: male masturbation, dubcon/noncon, creampie - no kings, no martyrs, no betas.

a/n— there was this villain playlist on yt that was slowed and sexy, and my brain just. clicked. here it is if you wanna check. the real reason this is long is cos i can't help but add backstory ok? ok. lol. comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

Storms have always been your favourite view in any window.

It is cliche to say, a proud daughter of the Stormlands, of course she enjoys the dark skies! But you do. There is nothing short of comforting in the rolling, fat clouds darkened in shadows. Occasionally, if the weather moved to your whim, lightning danced between plumes before you hear the boom and crack of it striking.

"It is a privilege to enjoy weathers such as these," your father once said, a hand on your darkened hair, a bluer tint to it, but Baratheon through and through. "It is our might that holds us at paramount, and thus, our privilege beckons warm fires and strong, stone fortresses to watch it all in comfort. To find enjoyment in the dark skies."

"Ours is the Fury," you replied immediately. Your father smiled.

"That, precisely. The paramount of our might and power is one we have taken and given with fury. Never forget."

"Even better than the Targaryens?" Your father's displeasure crumpled his face, and you were at an old enough age to understand his displeasure was not something you enjoy. But you had been learning all day, and the topic that day with your septa had been House Targaryen. You had learned the King's name, that he had a Queen that died, and that his heir is a girl.

His hold on your shoulders was heavy, but you do not flinch. Eyes bore into your own as if he was speaking the words into existence.

"We are the blood of the Kings too, my daughter. The White Hart proves our mark in the world, long before the dragonlords ever whispered in these lands. And what are dragons against the dance of storms?"

You had been little then, no more than six. The smallest of your sisters; Floris, though short in stature, looked elongated. A beauty. A fawn in the making. And your father is not the cleverest of men, but his words shelved itself in the corners of your brain. It eased and assuaged your fears like a quick spell.

Your spine straightens and your chin tilts upward. You are made of fury and storms, the blood of kings of old and solid, impenetrable fortresses.

You fury is your own, and 'neathe your fingers, under your very being, is a storm.

A good reminder, as when you had exchanged childhood for girlhood, a missive had been sent by the Queen Alicent Hightower, requesting for a daughter from Lord Baratheon's Four Storms, as companion for the Princess Helaena.

"Cassandra would do well."

"She hungers, husband. I am afraid of what might happen if we send her to the courts at her age. I do not yearn for a scandal."

"She would not shame her family so, do you reckon?"

"She is the eldest. You know how she is."

A sigh. "If she had a cock, she would be a good heir for my seat."

"Borros!"

"Apologies. Very well, mayhaps a good husband with no grit to him would do her well. She will lead the Stormlands by the hold of his— er, well, yes. Maris? She is clever."

"Far too clever. Even her tongue irks you, no. Definitely not. Her brain works too fast for her mouth. She will say the wrong thing and end us in war."

"You exaggerate, surely."

"I bore them, Borros, but they are your daughters. They live and breathe with your name and your House's banner under their own. What do you think? Bad enough they take so much of your heritage with them, and their looks, but they also plucked and chosen parts of you I'd rather not have for lady daughters."

Your father grumbles incoherently, you laugh under your breath.

"... Floris is too young. So..." The last one. You. You press your ear harder against the wood of your father's study, heart in your throat.

"She will be best," she says softly, insistently. She knows in her heart of hearts that though her husband is a hard, proud man, he has a softened heart for you. "Though she is clever, she minds herself well. Polite. Kind. She will do well with the Princess and her, er, eccentricities."

"Bloody weirdoes, the lot of them." A sigh. Another chastise from your mother, but she too, sounds exhausted. It has almost been a moon since the missive has been sent. Another one is bound to arrive, more order than request. It is all a political game. Princess Rhaenyra had no Baratheon ward under her court when she still resided in Kings Landing, for you and your sisters had been too young and your father had no sister. It is by chance that gives the Green Queen advantage to take a ward under your father's banner now, with a daughter she seeks to be Queen Consort.

"Send her then," your father announces. Though defeat clouds his voice, the Lord in him speaks each vowel clearly. "She will do best to represent the House out of them all. We might have a betrothal in our hands soon enough."

"She is pretty enough for a prince."

An angry snort. "She is more than pretty enough for a prince. Far better than the lot of them."

Softly, "That is because you like her best."

"Why would I not?" your father replies gruffly, making you smile. "A storm grinds and brews inside of her, wife. Even Maestre Loes, the old gnat that he is, sees my bloodline thick in her. Even if the King asks for her hand at this very moment, I would refuse. I would throw him off Storm's End with a smile on my face and a boot on his back."

You fight off a snort as your mother grumbles about treason and Maris.

"She is far better than the best of them." Another sigh. Heavier. "Why are we sending her?"

Your mother sighs. "Because as she is the best of them, she is the best of us. She will survive far better in that cesspit they call a keep than any of our daughters. Her storm can tame dragons."

You would argue that that too is treasonous given the context, but your father merely laughs. His laughter is a crackle and a boom.

"I would upheave our coffers to witness that."

Though you find her odd, you enjoy spending your time with the Princess Helaena. Mostly, she is quiet, in her own little world. Though it took time to get used to her many-legged friends, you soon realised the best times you spend with her are when shipments and gifts of pinned butterflies and books that have reached as far as Yi-Ti, to get to Kings Landing about bugs, and undeniable excitement unfurls in the Princess' face. More like a girl, a sweet one.

It makes her already cherub features appear more child-like, and she grasps your hand voluntarily as she points at each and every critter she recognises. It is so very rare to see true happiness in the princess' visage, and in her enjoyment, you see your sisters.

That is how you meet him, the Prince Aemond.

Princess Helaena had gone for tea with the Queen. It had not been planned. Though she often spent tea with family, either the Queen or the Lord Hand, or either of the Princes. Something had occurred, so now that Princess was having tea with her Queen Mother and her husband. If you had to guess, it was likely that Prince Aegon was being punished in some way.

Though there is no love lost between siblings, it makes you sniff at how blatant the prince's obscene indulgent for vices are. Princess Helaena didn't mind, rather, she didn't care unless they needed to spend time together, a clockwork patch of routine, and that was when you usually came in— you later realised, your primary job — soothing her nerves and distracting her thoughts before she had to enter her marriage chambers.

There is a resigned defeat in her, a woman's duty bearing down, looming like the Mother, and it makes you want to soothe her harder. Make her laugh.

With the change of plans, it was up to you to check for the new shipments of the Princess' things. A dictated note in your hand of the princess' handwriting, you were going through her boxes when a hand, gloved, rests on your shoulder.

"Do not move," a cool voice says behind you. Far too close for propriety.

You freeze. "Pardon?"

"I do not want to scare you, my lady, but there is a critter atop your head." The cool, calm voice waves off a steady rhythm to your heart, calming it further from the earlier panic of someone laying a hand on you (although this, is still not better. You are a lady and unmarried after all). "I will rid of it immedi—"

"No."

"... Pardon?"

"Where is it? Just atop my head?"

"... Yes?"

"It maybe poisonous, pease do not touch it." Before the owner of the hand and the calm voice could react, you pat your head until you touch a hairy, small thing with many legs. Relief spreads. "There you are."

"There you are?" The voice says, almost mocking, incredulously.

You huff, taking the spider in both of your hands, before you tilt your chin behind you, only seeing the gloved hand. "Please take your hand away from me."

The hand retreats. You turn.

Valyrian features are most uncommon than your own, and the jolt of recognising the pale, white hair is a strike to your being, a gasp falling from your lips. It is the one-eyed mask that tells you immediately who it is, but you string everything else you know of the prince.

Prince Aemond had been travelling to Oldtown, a visit requested by the Queen in the guise of seeing family, his brother. But there had been whispers of something more, as the chatter of the maids who cleaned up in the King's quarters talked about how ill he got day by day.

You had seen flashes of him before this, but fate had kept you two apart. You were not there when he visited the princess— on another errand or two, and he starkly ever looked at the ladies surrounding his sister with a vehement light as their voices, high pitched and dreary, tire him so on a good day, increasingly irritating on a bad one, and anyway, the silence that falls in a stone room just from his arrival is enough to irk him.

But here is he now, with one eyebrow rose, a good eye of icy blue iris, and the very visage of a warrior in black leathers, a braided hair pulled to one side, and pursed lips in both amusement and annoyance.

He hums. The sound kicks back your manners, blushing lightly at having gaped at him for far longer than pleasantry dictates, and you pull yourself into a bow.

"My apologies, my prince, I didn't know it was you. I was scared you were going to hurt the Princess' new friend."

"They are bugs," he says steadily. "Not her friends."

"Like so, but just because they have many a legs do not mean we cannot befriend them." A small smile plays on your lips before you place back the spider in the cage he got out of. It is something you had once said to the princess to make her laugh. You feel his stare burn at the side of your face. "Is there a matter, my prince?"

"You are the Lady Baratheon, are you not?"

"I am." A small, ironic smirk tugs at your lips. "Is it the hair?"

He makes a soft sound that exhales like a laugh out of closed lips. He's still quite close, you can feel his warmth and idly wonder if all Targaryens truly do have the blood of the dragons in them for you can feel the contours of him, burning at the edges of his being. Like a comforting little furnace.

"Hm. And the princess has taken quite the liking to you. You are all she talks about during sup."

You can't help it, you're smiling. So many rumours concerning the young prince, not all of them good, but there is a certain novelty in basking under the attention of a prince of the realm. A Valyrian beauty that brought an ethereal glow to him. As so intently stares, catching pieces and niches as if you are the most fascinating creature.

The attention makes you feel like a blushing lady.

"My apologies then, my prince."

He cocks his head, the braid dipping and you catch the movement in your peripheral. "Whatever for my lady?"

You turn to him, unable to curb the cheek to your smile. "For interrupting better conversations with the topic of my name plaguing your sups so."

His mouth twists into a smirk. In Aemond's mind, it is not oft that ladies, especially Helaena's ladies, would care to... flirt with him. Because this is you flirting, is it not? The coy gaze, the curl at the edge of your lips? Aemond has seen these faces in ladies and maids alike, but directed at others. At Aegon.

Directed at Aemond... bereave to keep their conversations to themselves, and though it is not always a fault of theirs for his stoicism is his most valued armour, one would resign oneself of an arranged marriage that will take long moons before his lady wife would see the truest him, that he would not be able to experience such... coy conversations with the opposite sex.

Yet here you are, a light dust of red in your cheeks, a quirk in your mouth, and the playful joust in your eyes, daring him into a swords' dance.

It is thrilling.

"Plaguing is too harsh of a word to say so about a lady of your stature, Lady Baratheon." He steps closer, aware of propriety standards of how close two unwedded people should be, but he feels intoxicated of the whiff of life exhuming from your visage. A light citrus, oranges? Lemons? Tart and sweet, with a powdery finish. It is so very ladylike.

Addicting.

The perfect smell for a lady wife, a musing thought.

"Is that so?"

"Intriguing, I would say, would be the better word."

You laugh, low and sweet. It sends a pleasant warm to his centre. "I'm afraid my memory is failing for I do not remember any wily adventure or conversation the princess and I had for a prince of the realm to say I intrigue him so."

"It is less... about wily adventures or interesting conversations that pique my interest, but the lady herself." His eye, though lone, the other remaining hidden behind an eyepatch with hints of scarred, twisted skin underneath, bore against yours as if he wished to gather all your strings and see what each would give him. What you would show him.

"I'm afraid to disappoint you, my prince, but I still fail to see how I can ever so pique your interest." You meet his gaze, smirking. "I am just me."

Before he can answer, step forward— whatever, he is staring at the curve of your lips so, at the enchanting shimmer of your eyes, and Aemond Targaryen felt breathless — your named is called, and the spell is broken. The prince steps back, taking more space between you that is more appropriate.

His hand flexes.

But that is not the last you see of the prince, nor the last time you are able to hold a conversation with him. It seems that since then, you find yourselves orbiting each other in the fringes before one steps forward and engages. There seems to be a band that tightens either of you so obsessed with seeing the other in the periphery, the topic whatever may came, even as inane as the weather.

It is a dance of swords, kissing blades of sharp quips and interesting parry. You are interesting. Beguiling. Devouring. Aemond searches for you in most places now, unable to stop himself from asking his dearest sister about you— even his mother and grandsire have taken notice, eyebrows rose between shared looks.

"House Baratheon is of a Great House," his mother hesitantly brought up, too focused on her soup for it to just be idle chatter above sup.

"It is." His forced passivity is not as apathetic as he can make it. For any mention of you and your origins thrums his heart in a dance.

"And the Lady Baratheon has many admirers, a kind and dutiful lady, and Helaena likes her so."

He turned to his mother then, humming. At the barest hint of a smile in her son's face, Alicent beamed.

But others from court also soon took notice, and when Aemond realises the wagging tongues had come to note your name— unkind whispers besmirching your person, he disappears from you altogether.

The differences become stark to him; realising what a foolish endeavour it is to want you. Though he is a prince, he is mutilated, a monster that will ruin you. You are too good for him, a warmth he had forgone in the face of misery, apathy, and hatred. The urge to conquer your every thought and sound, from your fingertips to the top of your hair... it is a gasping thought, one he shamefully sins at the blackest hours, tugging at his cock desperately to the thought of what you had looked like that day. The sound of your laughter, the pull of your lips when you smiled, the gasp you let out when you touched water that had been too cold— his mind bends and moves, and images of you, images that he will have to pray for the in morrow but cannot stop—

Moves him to completion, a strangle grunt of your name from his lips.

And yet, every night since, it happens again and again.

The more he pulled away from you, the more he wanted you. It is a debase urge, one more fit for his drunken cur of a brother than he, more creature than man.

But he cannot stop, so the torturous cycle continues.

Until you've had enough.

You know that during hours of inky night, the prince prefers the sanctum of the library. Not always, and lately, not often, but if there are a few things you learned in the hunting trips your father brought you that your mother never approved of, is that lying in wait, patient, deals a hand much better.

And on the fourth day of your waiting, your hair in a braid, a book on your lap, and a small candlelit close by as to not alert any spooked princes— the door opens at the Hour of Eel, the familiar and sorely missed footfalls of a quiet but sure-footed prince enters.

You admire him for a moment, hidden as you are, your stare drinks in the ever smooth of his twilight-spun hair, those pursed lips and straight lines. He's lithe but you know, having been offered his arm on every walk, he is made of hard muscle. Aemond always walks so smoothly, like a panther, or a gazelle, with the barest hint of austre he can never hide.

It's the prince in him, you giggle to yourself.

A sweet pang in your chest is the reminder of how much you missed his presence. And that ends tonight.

With his back turned, perusing a shelf, you shuffle and make yourself known with a soft, almost admonishing voice.

"Good eve, my prince."

He stiffens, hand poised against a spine of a tome. He barely turns, only his head to the floor, in the general direction of you. "My lady. I did not expect you to be here."

Frustrated, you sigh loudly. "Have I offended you so horribly? Dishonoured you in some way?"

"What?"

"Why can't you even look at me, Aemond?"

A sharp intake of breath. When he speaks again,his voice is changed. "You forget yourself, my lady."

There is an ache to your being, pursuing your lips. "You had given me permission with your given name, my prince, or have you forgotten?" Anger overcomes propriety. Fuck propriety. You charge toward him, heavy, angered steps until you're close enough. "Can't you at least look at me, look at me as you push me away as if I amnothing—"

He turns abruptly, one eye flashing as he grasps your elbows in a grip. His eyes zero in on your lips as a gasp falls, eyes widen— if you could see better, you'd notice the darkened gaze drinking you in. Your widened eyes, your open lips— and Sevens, only a robe hides your nightgown, the smooth expanse of your skin is more bare to him than ever before.

His beautiful, beloved stag.

"You have never been nothing to me, nēdenka riña brave girl," he hisses. "Konir sagon se drīve That is the reason."

"Prince A-Aemond?" you say. He is against the shadows of the moonlight, only his hands holding your own is illuminated.

A wrangled exhale falls from his lips. You follow the sound, worried.

"Are you? Injured? Are you okay?"

"I have not been okay for the moment I met you," he rasps, hands bruising in his hold.

"Well. Gods. I'm sorry. If it's such a offense—"

"It is an offence!" he growls, pulling you abruptly that you yelp, bathed in shadows and darkness together, your eyes adjust as you scramble to have thoughts apart from just being this close to him. Hearing a voice you had never heard of him before, untethered from his princely visage, from manners and proper, and it makes you burn.

The thoughts of wanting him close, of taking more of that space until you are chest to chest are blushing thoughts.

But there is honour still, for he holds you at least an arm's away.

"I have wanted you the moment I have laid eyes on you," he whispers, voice rough, exhausted. "And each day I spend with you, each hour— my honour stands in shambles, in ruins at my feet for I want you as a man wants a woman. Honourably and... and carnally."

You swallow, and he follows the movement like a predator tracking his prey. The blush in your cheeks, the way your lips press together as if you are just as starved of him as he to you— oh, you want him too, don't you?

One hand moves from your elbow to slowly reach up. Your arms, your collarbones, your neck. A thumb brushing your cheek and your eyes flutter.

Aemond wants to devour you.

"You plague me so, and I crave you."

"Then have me," you sigh.

His eye closes. "I cannot sully—"

You grasp his neck, bringing your mouth close to his. "You cannot sully what is freely given. If you crave me, I want you."

Honour unbound, a snap is tightened by the hunger that uncoils from a dragon that wants you. Aemond had grabbed the back of your head, tangled his fingers, and made a mess of your mouth.

Gasps and teeth, touching skin from where you can feel it— touching skin from where you unbuckle, tear through hem and push against cloth. When he slams you again the shelf, a moan so lewd falls from your lips that he groans, pulling your nightgown until he feels the heat from your very womanhood, and so, so wet, that when he flicks his thumb, curious and entranced, moving it around experimentally, you are a mess of sound and feeling, gasping his name, A-aemond, oh gods, please, and he is whispering, forgive me, f-forgive me, like love letters, like penitent, like a kiss from a traitor so wrong but so tasteful against your skin as he pulls himself from his confinements, holds you steady, and breaches your tight cunt.

Just before a scream tears through your throat, he devours your sound, holding you steady, until the pain bleeds pleasure and you are holding him like an anchor in dangerous seas. You cannot think or feel anyone else but him; what you are and who you are do not stand a chance as Aemond Targaryen swallows your senses.

It is harsh and fast, it is sweet and devouring, and more, more, more, you don't know what you're begging him, you feel like a devout and he feels like a god, grunting against your skin, biting through anything his teeth grazes. When he shifts you at an angle, finding a spot that feels like a lightning striking through your entire being, you are screaming, twitching, reaching a high so blinding it feels like white death.

"Is that it? That sweet spot?" he purrs, a breathless laugh, shocked and delighted drinking in your trembling and pleasure. "Your cunt is tight against my own, holding me like you never want to let go." You cry out when his cock hits that spot again. Your combined wetness makes an obscene squelch, just as pretty as the sound you utter. He smirks. "Can you hear that? Not even a whore can make a sound so sweet, hm?"

His teeth grazes your lips, sending shivers through your body as he licks the roof your mouth. "I want more of that sound. As your prince, you would grant me this, yes?"

But he isn't waiting for an answer, planting his feet and holding you steady, angling you back to that spot until he is snapping his hips, fucking into you as you can do nothing but beg and cry and tremble in the arms of a dragon taking what is his.

And you are.

You are his.

Maybe you had known it since then.

You definitely do when his seed floods your womb.

You want to say that that night was a fluke, a mistake that must be regretted. But once your gaze meets another, the fire burns, flickering and dancing, and it repeats. In quick fucks in dangerous spots, to slow, sweet love making in his room.

You are his, in mind, body and soul.

"Death is nothing but a friend," he murmurs against your neck, holding you close. Sweat cooling between your naked bodies. "It cannot stop me from finding you."

"I hope you say that to my father well," you tease.

" Marrying you is but the next step, my love. You are already mine as I am yours." He plays with your hair, brushing it past and kissing a bruise he made on your breast. "In face of every god and more, they will understand that we are but one soul."

You can plan the future in rose-coloured gaze for as much as you can, but the truth of marrying into a family with war brewing inside of it, held together by a dying king's hope and corpse fingertips— it is another matter entirely.

It all comes to a sharp clarity when Viserys I dies... and they keep his rotting corpse a secret.

And then they crown a whoremongering drunk.

"Aemond," you break into the silence, your entire being too cold for comfort. You had just come back from a privy council, a Green Council where the Queen had ordered you and your betrothed to reach Storm's End before the night fully breaks.

As if she knew where your loyalties are.

As if there is no question you will support the usurpation.

You turn to Aemond, busy with packing his things for they have bared the maids and people the of Keep. Because they are making Aegon as king and they know a revolt is underneath the floorboards.

"Aemond!"

"What? What has happened?" He looks confused, irritated. "We must make haste, my love, if we are to beat the storms at—"

"Princess Rhaenyra is Queen," you whisper but it could have been a scream. Saying it aloud gives you confidence, strengthening your resolved. You turn to him. "She is the King's heir, no one else. Aemond, this is an usurpation, unlawful in the eyes of—"

It takes little strides for him to reach you, for him to hold your neck in a tightened grip of warning.

"She," he spits, slow and careful as if you are a simpleton in need of teaching, "is a whore who is attempting to place her bastards on the Iron Throne. Rhaenys Targaryen held no chance of it, just as she. My brother is the firstborn son. He is king." His fingers dig into your skin. "You will do well as my wife to not speak of such blasphemy once more, do you understand?"

Your shock and fear melt from your visage, making way for compliance. You nod once. "Yes, my prince."

"Husband," he corrects, holding you much gentler but the weight of his hand is still there on your neck. A reminder. "Have you forgotten? We only come to Storm's End to officiate our union and your House's loyalty to the King. Once done, we will marry, yes?"

You nod, hands fisting. "Yes."

When he kisses you, harsh and needy, imprinting his will unto you— you close your eyes and plan how you make known to your Queen of their plots.

But Storm's End doesn't go as planned, does it?

Lucerys Velaryon, the Queen's son who had come as nothing more but an envoy for the rightful heir, and Aemond—what you thought to be your Aemond but a monstrous man who needed his revenge, who needed to draw blood for a grudge so deep, for an existence he finds so abysmal — had chased after him and came back to you bloodied, tearing up your dress, rutting in you in harsh, rough thrusts, as you listen to the storms from your window and think,

The Queen will never find his body. Her poor, sweet boy. Half in the belly of a beast, the rest spread and sunken into the water.

"I will not allow any marriage until the realm is at peace," your Lord Father rumbled with finality. He is not a smart man, truly, but he is a father. His gaze meets yours, full of meaning, of promises, before looking back at the seething prince. "You will have my bent knee for your king and for your war, but my daughter's hand shall be her own until the realm is at ease."

Your mother steps forward, her courtly smile on her face. "We want for her to have a grand wedding, my prince. She is the first of our charges to wed, and to a prince of the realm no less! By sure, at the time of war, we must err on the side of caution, as our coffers will no doubt focus on our troops. A future princess of the realm must be mindful, of course."

She bows in deference, your sisters following suit. Maris is the first to look up, defiance burning in her eyes.

You remember a conversation with him, feeling like a lifetime ago.

"Ask me, my prince," you teased. "What a storm is to a dragon. A creature is a creature. Even you must acquiesce to the way of nature for she has bowed to no one since her existence."

Aemond may be blood of the dragons, but he is surrounded by storms on all sides. The fiercest.

And your father will never marry you to a Kinslayer.

Yet you stay beside him, your duty now clearer than ever. Every new information you can grasp is sent back to the Queen and her council. In a courtier of the Greens and Traitors, you are the sole Black Stag. You use Aemond's adoration for you, his possessive obsession of what he thinks is love, as a protection and guise.

Any time he beds you, you sneak in moon tea. His bedding of you is just as much his hold on you and his defiance against your father's refusal. Once caught, you remind him he would not enjoy a bastard child. Especially at a time of war. Not after what they had done to his nephews.

"Do you want for me to suffer as your sister does?" The tears in your face then had not been a folly, for your heart broke for sweet Helaena and her sons. For Jaehaera. The world bleeds and bleeds, and all who die that reaches your ears are nothing more but innocents.

Aemond does not bed you after that, but he keeps you in his chambers, pulls you close as if he is trying to mould your skins as one. Times like this, your heart stutters. Your love to him and your morality as a person is at a test of swords.

You are in love with him,

He is a monster,

He has lost his nephews,

He has killed his own.

And it makes you wonder if you are a monster too, lying beside him as his bedmate, caring for him, wanting him still as his heart beats as your own, so connected to the umbilical of fate and chance while war rages, bodies falling all around you both, most from his own hand and word.

The war rages, and Harrenhal comes to view.

With it, a slaughter and a witch.

The worst of the massacre is the steely, lulling silence.

No one tells you that most of what an execution is that silence. That it amplifies each scream, each shout, each thick drop of a head as it falls on cobblestone. The sound is wet and a mouthful. Then it is nothing, consumed by that silence again.

You are locked in a room with a window that doesn't face the horror of what Aemond is doing. As if this is enough to shield you from what he is, what he truly is doing to win this war.

The worst part, committing genocide of an entire house is nothing more but a horrific grudge.

Strong blood spills, enough to make a lake.

By the time that night bleeds and a maid had entered with dinner to light a fire— your body is still so cold. No food has touched your stomach since the day before yet you retch.

Does loving a monster meant that you are just as monstrous?

Mayhaps it is still worth it, you muse in your silent madness, tears tracking your cheeks as the heaviness of your being stays. For who can say a monster can love you so monstrously? Who else can?

When Aemond comes back to you, freshly cleaned and a reminiscent of the prince that you loved, and he is making excuses of wanting you as you are, pawing at your clothes, you let him. You make love in the silence suffering from the massacre he had just finished. You hold him and kiss him in a desperation as you know this will be your ending.

That your Aemond is gone, or worse. He had never truly existed.

When you are both spent, satiated in a sweet glow, your head pleasantly quiet, he speaks about a plan.

A woman, a Strong witch, that promises him an assurance of winning with her sights and blasphemous magic. He had spared her among others, and that itself makes you look at him, truly look at him.

In exchange of what— for such things do not concede so easily as gratitude to mercy of one life, yes? Because desire devours itself. A snake eating itself.

"A child," he whispers against your battered head and bruised heart. "From my blood."

"A bastard," you murmur as he stiffens. "From a bastard Strong. Surely the irony is not lost on you? You have started this war by killing your bastard nephew, and you plan on ending it by fathering—"

"Do not question me," he says softly, grip tightening against your arms. Your eyes close, heavy with the weight of being a spy. Of loving him. "I will fuck a babe in her how many times it takes, and when the war is won, I will kill her and it. For your womb is the only place my lineage will live. I am doing this for the good of the realm. For us."

When he thinks you are asleep and leaves— you take your things and make haste to leave. Not once has your people left you in the arms of the kinslayer. Always one maid, always three guards from your father's army, loyal to only you.

You bundle up quick, and rush for the passage, you are blocked by a woman. Pale skin, dark hair, and eyes greener than wildfire. You know her before she speaks. You hold yourself to fight, and the witch of Harrenhal laughs.

"You have changed the tide of destiny, my lady." Her head tilts as if she can see past you and through you. "Once your choice has affirmed, your thread chosen, I cannot stand in the side of the One-Eyed Kinslayer without the Stranger coming for me. So instead, I will grant you one gift. One that will require no sacrifice."

"I do not want it."

"Ah, but it is a gift." She nods at your torso. "Your belly will soon take size, in it, his heir. You will not escape him as soon as he knows." Her head twists to the window. A raven flies. A storm grumbles. The sound comes first before the lightning strikes. A false storm. "Time is flowing, changing and twisting. He may have betrayed his kin, but he is still a prince. He will know soon."

Her green eyes glint as if she is seeing now and tomorrow. Now and a moon. Moon from a year. "You must run now. Hide and hide well."

You hold your stomach, bile rising in your throat. "Where? Where am I safe?"

A faint smile rises to her lips. "Your heir looks more like him than mine did. You will not escape him. But go north. As far North as you can. The fjords can hide him for a while. He will grow well there."

She moves away, letting you pass.

You never look back.

Dark locks. Baratheon hair.

A tuff of silver lock atop his head.

And the rest... his nose, his eyes. With your fingers, you pull his lids. Bloom in mullish blue with the faintest tint of iridescent violet. You know from your histories, that faint tint will overpower the blue.

Oh, he is utterly beautiful. Utterly yours. And utterly his father's son.

Rough breaths strangle out of your raw-bitten lips, brushing blood away from your babe's face, his head, his wet, silvery hair. Few they maybe, unmistakably Valyrian features they still are.

"Oh, he is beautiful," your mother murmurs, tears stain her cheeks. "Quiet as you were, as a babe. Looks just as much as you."

She is weighing his Valyrian features too. Your blood tried, but it seemed as if Aemond's grudge grasped your womb and affected your shared blood.

"We cannot stay," you say, still staring at him, admiring him. Your heart locking in place, steeling itself as you prepare to do your utmost to protect him. "We will have to travel posthaste."

Your mother swallows her grief. She had almost lost you. She will lose you again, now along with her only grandchild. "Where?"

"North. As far as North as we can."

Your mother nods. Ever a lady. "I will send a missive. The Lord Stark is loyal to the Queen and knows by how much you have sacrificed for this realm. He will protect you on his honour or he is no Stark."

You will need to hide. You will need to hide well.

You pull him close to your chest, hot tears freshly spilling from your eyes.

The witch had not lied, for your boy grew up amongst ice and warmth. He grows up with love from you, from the Lord Stark and his people, and love from his father in the way that he resembles him.

The slope of his nose, the sweet purse of his lips.

When your boy had gotten angry once, nothing but a quick burst, it shocks fear and tears from your eyes for you had seen the prince.Nothing more than a flash.

You pull him close and wound him to your heart as he cried, apologising for scaring you.

The North had granted you reprieve from the war as it came and went. Your betrayal to the Greens had mounted to the Black Queen's win. The betrayal of House Baratheon as House Stark and their bannermen joined the fray had squandered any rebellious thought on which sovereign will preside.

The last you heard of what became the Prince Regent was his surrender at the Battle Above God's Eye.

When you had cried that night, you did not know if it was from relief. Or fear.

But a black stag on white snow is easy to spot.

It takes years, yes, but the Stranger is but an old friend.

For when the day of your wedding to the Lord Stark arrives, a familiar screech of a dragon that your marrow will never forget— tolls the bell of death.

And when you looked up, snow swirling, holding onto your son that looked up in awe at the man who looked so much like him—

Aemond is smiling.

Sweet came the word— dracarys! — as Vhagar split her mouth opened and obeyed her rider.

What have I told you?

You are mine as I am yours.

In face of every god and more, they will understand that you and I are but one soul.

#dark!aemond x reader #dark!aemond #aemond smut #dark!aemond targaryen x reader #elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x reader #aemond angst #aemond dark #hotd smut #aemond fanfiction #aemond fanfic #hotd fanfic

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gay-wh0re-slut · 2 months

Note

Could we get a #bottom-rhea fic? rhea is overconfident/cocky and gets put in her place. And please, that tongue piercing 🥵

oh shit oh fuck..,.,,,.. hell yeah i can. i’m squirming in my seat rn lmaooooooo

Shut Up

rhea x fem!reader

content: rhea gets a lil over confident about her work in the bedroom and you got tired of it so you put her in her place, well your place… and kiss her and choke her and fuck her and and and no plot just sex

Laid across the bed waiting for your lover to come home. She had promised to do the most awful things to you when she finally came back after a week of traveling. You weren’t wearing anything specifically sexy in case she was too tired, just a lil booty short that was barely covering your ass and one of her many band tees. She loved seeing you in them, so you knew she would at least comment on it if anything.

She texted you saying she was on the way from the airport about an hour ago, so you checked her location and she was one minute away. Your heart was beating fast and your breath was lost as you thought of seeing her again since last week. You were too excited to move so you sat… waiting.

You heard the door open and close, some shuffling, the dogs clicking on the tile floor, finally footsteps approaching the bedroom.

“Hey baby,” the tired wrestler opened the bedroom door, “I’ve missed you,” she literally plopped on the bed beside you, “so much.” She leaned over and grabbed your face lazily to kiss you before she laid down beside you, facing you.

“I missed you too, my love,” you replied. Your hand rested on her shoulder, rubbing it with your thumb. You were a bit disappointed that she seemed too tired to do anything but you didn’t mind too much, you know how busy she is.

After a few quiet moments of her breathing in her home, bed, and you, she looked so peaceful, she fluttered her pretty eyes open, “how’s it been here?”

You took a long breath, “pretty good, nothing too crazy. Worked, you know, the usual.”

“Mmm,” her eyes slowly shut again.

You watched her breathe, quietly, watching her nostrils flare with every exhale. Your hand moved to her cheek, you leaned over to kiss her but she immediately and swiftly pinned you down, holding both hands by your head as she straddled your hips.

“Rhea!” you yelped.

“Gotcha,” she laughed maniacally.

“Fuck,” you laughed with her, “I thought you were tired,” you finally caught your breath.

“And break my promise,” she snuck her lips to your neck, “do you remember my promise?” she whispered as she trailed soft kisses down your neck. She took her time, letting you feel every one of them. She replaced some with a soft lick. You could feel her piercing dragging on your skin, sending a shock wave through your body.

You let out a weak moan, “y-yes.”

“Mhmm,” she switched to the other side, “and what was it?” her voice was graveled.

“That you would…”

“Mhmm,” her hands relieved the slightest bit of pressure.

“Mark me yours,” you whined.

“What else?” she moved your hands to be held by one of hers while the free hand snakes its way under your shirt feeling every inch of your skin underneath.

“That y-you would-”

“Say it,” she said sternly.

You struggled to form words as she nipped at your ear. Her hand toyed with your nipple causing you to arch your back into her. You huffed a moan as you slammed your back into the bed again.

“C’mon baby, let me hear you say it,” her accent became deeper as she growled in your ear.

“Mmmfuck,” you whined as you slightly bucked your hips.

“You like when I tease you, huh?” her evil smile formed on her lips.

“Yess,” as you tried to break free from her hands.

“Uh uh,” she tightened her grip, “you know the deal.”

“Please!”

“Oh c’mon baby,” she mocked, “just four little words, I know you can do it.”

You threw your head back in frustration. Rolling your eyes at her you took a deep sigh.

“How am I supposed to know what you want, princess?” she continued the mocking tone until the pet name became angry.

After not even a second, you gathered the strength you had left pushed your hands up and broke her grip, bucked your hips up to push her off of you. She flailed while falling over to her side of the bed looking shocked that you could over throw her. You climbed on top of her and copied the grip she had on you to begin with.

“No, Mami. Fuck you.” you smiled on top of her.

“Wha-”

“Shhh,” you quieted her with a finger over her mouth.

She shook her head in confusion, “what’s going on?” she spoke around your digit.

“It’s my turn,” you began to follow in her footsteps by kissing her neck.

“Baby,” she breathed.

“Hmm?”

“Ho-Why did you do that?”

“Like it’s hard for me to control you,” you said slyly, “As if you don’t like it,” now your hand was under her shirt.

“I do but I’m always on-”

“Shut up,” you barked.

“Excuse me?” she was brought out of her trance.

“I said,” you leaned closer to her, “shut. up.”

You gave her a quick peck on the lips before going back to nipping at her ears and kissing on her neck. Now your hand was toying with her nipple. You knew she could easily break out of your hold but you were grateful she let you keep going. Quiet but deep moans were flowing out of her as you continued.

“Now, you can take back over and do whatever you want to me or…” the hand under her shirt gripped onto her neck, “I can prove that you like to be a bottom.”

She snarled at you as her response before rolling her eyes back into her head because your grip tightened around her neck.

“That’s what I thought,” you chuckled.

“Shut up,” she snapped back.

“Aw, hard to be a bottom, huh?”

“Don’t-”

You kiss her hard to shut her up. She was frozen for a moment before she released the tension in her body. Her hips gently bucked trying to push you farther in to her.

“Now actually shut up,” you sat up, releasing your grip on her wrists, “and take it.”

“Shit,” she mumbled as she watched you scoot down her legs and push them open.

You kissed along her bare skin of her thighs, slowly sneaking your fingers into the waistband of her booty shorts. You tugged at them and she lifted her hips to allow you to slip them off. Once you threw them into oblivion, you grazed your hands over her hips, up her stomach, caressed her tits once more before tracing your hands back down to her thighs.

Her hands were gripping at the bed sheets as she was breathing heavily with a soft moan here and there. You placed some final kisses on her thighs before reaching her core. Your hot breath teasing her before doing anything else. Her hips slightly jerked towards you silently begging for more.

“Look at me,” you said staring at her from below smiling.

It took her a second to recognize what you said, but she finally made eye contact with you. Your smile grew wider when those sapphire eyes met yours because for the first time ever, she was the one that looked helpless.

“Good girl,” you threw at her which was something she always said to you.

You could see her grip tighten on the sheets when she heard those words. You chuckled slightly before resuming placing soft pecks on her lower body. Every now and then you would get so close but never where she needed you. Every time you did get close, she would close her eyes hoping you would go for it but you never did. You had to remind her three times to keep eye contact.

“Baby…please,” she begged.

“What?” you said innocently.

“Please just- ugh!”

“A little frustrated, are we?” you loved being on this side. Seeing her writhe, pleading for you, it felt powerful, now you see why she loved it so much.

“Mhmm,” she whined.

“Hm,” you hummed contently.

You could see that she was already almost dripping onto the sheets, so you decided to finally give her what she wanted. Making sure she was watching, you stuck out your tongue and took a long, slow lick over her core.

A guttural moan could be heard above you as her back arched. You gave her a second to recuperate before doing it again. And once again, the guttural moan and arched back returned.

Apparently she was tired of waiting for more, so her hand found your head and pushed you into her. Although, you liked being a top for a night, you loved when she would control you. But you fought back, this was your time, your rules tonight.

So your hand gripped her wrist and peeled it away from your head, "I'm in charge tonight and I'm going to do whatever I want. Understood?" You leaned on your elbows between her beefy thighs.

"Fuck!" she growled.

You let her seethe for a minute before asking again, "Understood?"

She let out a big sigh, "yes."

"Thank you," you situated yourself back where you were, "Can I continue?"

She squinted at you but then softened her look, "yes."

And you didn't waste any time. One hand held her legs open while the other was gently placed on the side of her torso. You worked your magic on her core with your tongue, flicking up and down, side to side, anything and everything to get her riled up. And it worked perfectly.

Her hips were moving perfectly against your mouth, her beautiful moans and whines filled the room. Her hand snuck back to your head but you didn’t mind this time. Every now and then she would pull your hair subconsciously.

“B-baby, please,” she said quietly.

“Hmm,” you hummed into the hot mess, sending her growing knot closer to its breaking point.

“Mmf,” her hips bucked, “I need- fuck!”

You stopped what you were doing to sit up a bit to look at her, “What baby?”

“I need your…” she took a deep breath and stared right into your eyes, “fingers.”

You gave her a devilish smile and went back to your job. The hand that was caressing her body, moved to her inner thigh, teasing at her oozing center. Her hips jerked once more. After making her wait forever, you gently pushed two fingers into her.

“Fuck yes,” she arched her back.

You continued to carefully pump in and out of her as you continued lap her up. Moans filled your ears, her hands gripped your head and bed sheets so hard you thought she would pull your hair out and rip a hole in the sheets simultaneously.

She mumbled out curses as you went, she threw in a few pet names too. You were starting to realize why she liked being on top so much.

You could feel her clenching around your fingers, her breathing became faster, “Mmmmyesss like that, baby,” she groaned.

The knot that was in her stomach finally unraveled, her back arched, her legs squeezed your head, she slammed her fist on the bed, she pushed your head farther into her.

“FUCK,” she screamed.

As she rode it out, she released the tension in her body as she calmed her breathing and her spine gently fell back onto the bed. You carefully pull out of her then took one last lap at her center, hearing a weak moan from above as you did.

You sat up, trailing soft kisses on her bare hips to her stomach. Her hand rested on your head the whole way up pushing your hair out of the way. Once you reached eye level, you brought your hand to your mouth and cleaned off the two fingers you used moments ago.

Her mouth dropped open for a second before she pulled you in for a deep sloppy kiss. The two of stayed there for a moment, before you fell next to her.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, “you’re doing that more often.”

#rhea ripley #wwe #rhea ripley x reader #oh i need her so bad dude #my brainnnn

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jayteacups · 1 year

Text

Ignorance Is Bliss

Out of the entire cast of Attack on Titan, the member that spends the least time online is probably Levi. And after seeing the responses to the latest collaboration promotional photoshoot, he wants to keep it that way.

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x GN!Reader

Tags and warnings: Actor AU, established relationship, fluff, (my sorry attempt at) humour, some other characters are mentioned, a few suggestive things are briefly brought up in the form of internet slang, mild spoiler about Levi's state in S4

Word count: 1.1k

A/N: First piece of writing in almost three months 😭 my writing is rough I apologise in advance. Anyway this is very much inspired by the AOT x Gutedama collab illustrations. Might the use of internet slang become very dated in a few years? Probably. Did that stop me from writing this? No. Enjoy this incredibly dumb piece of writing XD

“Why the fuck are they calling me ‘breedable’?” Levi grumbles under his breath, causing you to choke back a laugh.

Setting your book aside, you shuffle closer to your boyfriend on the sofa. “What did you just say?” You ask, incredulous. You’re not entirely sure you heard him correctly—it isn’t a sentence you imagined leaving his mouth, ever.

“I said,” Levi repeats, waving his phone in his hand, “these random perverts on the internet are calling me ‘submissive and breedable’.” With his other hand, he creates air quotation marks. A deep blush washes across his cheeks and ears. “They’re all saying I did a slutty pose, too. How is that slutty? How?”

They’re not wrong, is the sentence that lingers on the tip of your tongue. Instead, you reach out, your lips twitching. “Let me see.”

He sighs and relents, pressing his phone into your hand. He’s been browsing Twitter. Or, more specifically, scrolling through the replies underneath a promotional photoshoot he and his cast members had a few weeks ago: some kind of collaboration with Gutedama, the Sanrio character. You’ve seen the photo before—the actors involved were able to get a sneak peek of the photos a week before they were to be posted, and Levi had shown you his. You’d thought it was hilarious, the way Eren, Mikasa, Armin and Hange all had ordinary, somewhat conservative poses, as opposed to Levi.

“I’m not surprised they’re reacting this way,” you muse, zooming in on Levi’s photo. “You do happen to be the only one on your back, with your legs spread and knees up, giving the camera a very clear view of your crotch. You also happen to be the only one with the ODM straps on, so that does draw attention to your thighs—which look great, by the way…”

Levi crosses his arms. “Don’t tell me you agree with those degenerates.”

Saying nothing, you pointedly continue to scroll through the replies and quotes. ‘He’s so babygirl,’ reads one. ‘I am going to breed this man,’ reads another. Both of those are very tame in comparison to what you have seen before, but as you dive in further, the comments become more and more debauched, most obviously being exaggerated jokes. It’s become the norm. You’re not threatened in the slightest, not at all—in fact, you’re amused. You simply tilt your head and say, “hm.”

Levi throws his hands in the air in exasperation. “Not you too.”

You look up at him through your lashes. “Listen,” you begin, “I’ve been thinking this since day one, but for your sake I didn’t say anything—”

“I am never doing these photoshoots ever again,” he grouses, rubbing his temples. “It’s not… it wasn't even my idea, the photographer asked me to pose like that.”

“Oh, trust me, they got you to pose like that for a reason.” You pass Levi’s phone back to him, patting his shoulder gently.

He scoffs.

“Maybe you should avoid Twitter for a bit, sweetheart, because this isn’t going to end any time soon.”

Sighing, Levi sets his phone down firmly. He resettles on the sofa next to you, his shoulder touching yours, warm body pressing up against your side. “I still don’t get it,” he grumbles. A small wrinkle appears between his brows.

“Get what?” Carefully, you lower your head and press a gentle kiss on the space between his eyebrows, right on the little furrow. He shuffles closer, now leaning his weight against you.

“I get that they’re joking, but… some of the perversions they’re speaking of don’t even make any sense. For a moment, I thought about asking Connie, because the kid basically lives on Twitter—seriously, his screentime is concerning—but knowing him, he’s not going to tell me anything helpful. He laughed in my face last time.”

“Wait, you asked him about this stuff before?”

Levi’s gone redder than a tomato. “I asked him what a ‘little meow meow’ was when the promo photos of me in the bandages got posted.”

You know perfectly well what a ‘little meow meow’ is, but elect not to say anything.

He continues on with his rant, nose wrinkling in both disgust and confusion. “That was a clear lapse of judgement, I know. I’m not asking him or the other kids a thing about this shit ever again. Anyway. What’s with these Twitter users wanting to ‘breed’ me? That’s not even possible. And what does ‘babygirl’ even mean? Isn’t that—” His face sours even further, a realisation dawning upon him. “Fuck, no.”

“What?”

“Isn’t that what the creepy guy from 365 Days says to the main character? That’s… no. I hate it. I hate everything. Fuck this.”

You tilt your head back and laugh. One of your hands comes up to cup the back of Levi’s head, pressing his face to your chest. “No, no, it’s not like that. It’s… it’s an internet saying. Don’t think too much about it, yeah?”

“You know what? I take all my questions back. I really don’t want to know.” His words are muffled. The two of you are sinking further and further into the sofa, lying almost horizontally, with him on top of you.

Giggling, you slip your fingers through his silky hair. “You know what they say. Ignorance is bliss.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“So why were you looking through Twitter, then, hm? You usually stay off social media for weeks on end.”

“Why’d you think? The rest of the cast wouldn’t shut up about it in the group chat, saying I had to see what the responses to the photoshoot were…”

“By the rest of the cast,” your lips twitch with barely restrained laughter, “you mean Hange and Zeke, don’t you?” Those two always love to tease Levi about his rabid fanbase. “I honestly would not be surprised if one of those replies was Zeke on his burner account, having a laugh. You know how much he enjoys winding you up.”

“Fucking hell. I would not put it past him, now that you mention it. Thanks for putting that weird picture into my head.” He rolls his eyes, as you laugh.

———

After enjoying his morning off, Levi gets a private text from Erwin whilst he’s on his way to set: What was all the ruckus about on the cast group chat? I don’t quite understand what was so funny.

He sighs, tapping an answer back on his phone.

Ignorance is bliss, Erwin.

Please do not repost, modify or claim as your own work.

Masterlist

#levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x y/n #levi ackerman x you #levi fanfiction #levi fanfic #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman fanfic #levi fluff #levi ackerman fluff #captain levi x reader #captain levi x you #captain levi x y/n #idk why i'm so self conscious of tagging a;dksjfsdljk

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ingravinoveritas · 3 months

Note

(Note that @angelsadvocate96 also included a screenshot of AL's post, which I am omitting here since we have two already.)

I did see this Insta story yesterday, and again...wow. Before I go any further, I want to be clear that my issue with this has nothing to do with it being "inappropriate" (depending on your definition, of course). I am by no means a prude, and it is not and should not be shocking that Michael and AL have had sex. We know this, and we have proof of this, so that is not a big thing. I do, however, think it is interesting that just a few days ago, we had Michael being David's "boyfriend" and now here's AL seemingly marking her territory again. So that makes me wonder what has suddenly changed.

Also, as angelsadvocate96 mentioned, this does indeed seem to be a Georgia-style brag...but it falls flat. It doesn't help that "sleep next to" is just a really weird turn of phrase, and could as easily mean AL and Michael's beds are next to each other (a la every 1950s TV sitcom) as it does that they're sleeping in the same bed. It also stops short of being overtly sexual (because she didn't say "sleep with"), and so ends up in that weird place of trying to be scandalous, yet also not. But when you have Georgia out here five years ago talking about how much she and David enjoy anal sex and possibly her pegging him, Anna's "innuendos" just seem completely tepid in comparison.

The other thing that stood out to me is the mention of Ian McKellen, the #lifegoals hashtag, and Anna seemingly bragging about the fact that one of the most important parts of her relationship with Michael is meeting celebrities. We knew this already from the Dolittle premiere and the now-infamous picture of her meeting Rami Malek, as well as the fact that she follows many of Michael's co-stars and other famous figures connected to him on social media, and has had a history of replying primarily to comments from those people, to the exclusion of most everyone else. But I'm genuinely confused as to why you would ever want to give that impression of your relationship, especially on a post that's supposed to be promoting a TV appearance of his.

Her post also made me wonder how aware Anna really is of Sir Ian or his work, as I wasn't sure I could see her being a big fan of his...until I realized she shared this post from her and Michael's PR person (@dobbscld). The OP mentioned Sir Ian specifically, and knowing that, it suddenly all made sense. But it also struck me that, rather than make a post or story of her own to promote Michael, AL shared a post from PR...and once again made a post about Michael into a post about herself. Just as we've seen before.

Honestly, I don't think I would even mind this post or similar posts AL has made that much if it felt like Michael was even remotely a part of it. But it's the very fact that he never talks about her or their relationship (and not in a "he's a private person" kind of way) that makes it so awkward. And here he was going on Graham Norton to promote his directorial debut--a project that is hugely important to him--and Anna just brings it down to the most base level, making it seem like she does not take Michael or his work seriously. And I can't think of anything more embarrassing than that.

So yes, that was my reaction to AL's Insta story yesterday. Again, this is just my perspective, and I'm glad to hear from folks in the comments on this post with their thoughts. Thanks for writing in! x

#moriarty-sisters #kime11e #angelsadvocate96 #reply post #michael sheen #welsh seduction machine #the graham norton show #it's like the more she tries to make people think there is something to be jealous of #the more it seems like there is nothing to be jealous of #and the more she tries to look like she owns him the more obvious it is she doesn't #because how in the world can you take a relationship like this seriously #i'm genuinely asking #choices #not all of them good #but i will leave it to my followers to make up their own minds #anna lundberg #discourse

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thebirdandthebee · 1 year

Text

Mighty Fine (18+)

Just a little slump-buster ft. our favorite aviator. Taking requests for TGM and The Bear in my inbox. Smut ahead. Painfully pining Rooster. 18+ only! This is not edited, so please excuse any glaring issues.

Title: Mighty Fine Caroline, see, Caroline - all the guys would say she's mighty fine WC: 3716

The Hard Deck was not in a poor financial state – in fact, since Penny took it over five years ago, she’d done better business than the establishment had ever logged.

Sure, some positive changes, listening to customer feedback and stocking just the right kind of beer helped. But Penny knew that for the past year, there was specifically one woman who helped bump sales big time.

And tonight, a Friday night ahead of the fourth of July, Penny knew they’d hit record numbers.

The leggy brunette flitted about the full bar – packed asses to elbows – with a smile that held a secret and lashes longer than a summer afternoon.

Caroline was all perfume and warm skin. A promise of what could be behind a beauty mark and cherry gloss.

Tonight she’d tucked her white tank into a pair of cutoff shorts and knotted an American flat bandanna around her neck, the tip of the triangle teasing her cleavage. The low-slung cowgirl boots did nothing to interrupt the long lines of her legs and she trusted them with each pivot she needed to make through the crowd.

When her attention landed on you, it felt like you were the only person in the room. She knew how to work a crowd. A small gallery assembled to watch her re-stock the tray of cherries – one of her favorite snacks throughout the night.

“Caro, sweetheart,” Penny called, topping of a lager pour.

“Penny, my love,” Caroline countered, popping the tabs on three ciders.

“Can you let me these men live for one night?” Her boss teased, nipping at the fabric around her employee’s neck.

“I can’t show my love for America the beautiful?” Caroline replied with a wink. Penny laughed with a shake of her head.

Caroline had started at the Hard Deck last summer, asking for a few weekend shifts – the ones no one else wanted to take in order to enjoy their own weekends – since her classes for UCSD ran from Tuesday through Thursday.

“Rent’s due this week, Pen!” Caroline called as she ducked under the counter, greeting her adoring audience as she head to the stockroom to grab a crate of Sam Adams.

Rooster entered the bar that night with his hopes high and his buddies trailing close behind.

He’d had his sights set on Caroline for months. A squeezed shoulder here, a bat at his biceps there and he was hooked. Sometimes he felt like a cartoon, floating behind her like a cherry pie on its way to cool in the open window.

“Oh Rooster, you’re so fucked,” Fanboy commented, catching sight of the brunette wonder first. She was pouring a line of shots across the bar top, handing them out to a group of sailors who wished she was their treat instead. Taking a clear glass for herself, they all clanked their shots before tossing them back.

Penny didn’t mind if Caroline drank on the job – she was a grown woman who knew her limits who could always use working as an excuse to get out of it.

“Here’s trouble,” Caroline announced, “G&T, Fanboy?” She asked as they saddled up to the bar – their first stop before heading back to the darts.

“Please,” Fanboy grinned, basking in the glow of her attention.

“A rum and Coke for Coyote, Hefeweizen for Phoenix and porter for my Rooster,” she listed off, gathering glasses and stationing herself over the beer taps. “That sound right?” She asked with a tilt of her head, locking eyes with Bradley.

“Perfect as always,” he replied, his honey brown eyes melting into hearts.

“Ladies first,” Caroline simpered, handing Phoenix her beer, “then, we go in order of beauty,” she added. “Fanboy,” she passed over the gin and tonic, “Coyote,” she listed next, giving his rum and Coke a swish, “and, last, but certainly not least, Rooster,” she pulled the tap of the porter, leaving just the perfect thin band of foam at the top.

“You trying to break my heart?” Bradley asked, leaning over the bar, willing her to lean in closer.

“I gotta keep you humble, Rooster,” she replied, pushing his glass toward him, “because I know they don’t call you that due to the size of your ego,” she said, turning on a heel to attend to the other side of the bar while Jimmy grabbed the trash to bring out back. Though she tossed a wink over her shoulder that made his upper lip tremble beneath his mustache.

“When you going to let me buy you a drink?” He called out, voice nearly blending in with the buzz of the bar. She shook her head with a laugh, focusing on the task at hand, but they both knew she heard him.

Rooster joined his friends back at the darts. The Fourth of July weekend was guaranteed chaos at the ‘Deck – not too unlike Homecoming weekend at UVA. Bradley loved the liveliness of it all. However, it meant that Caroline’s attention was pulled every which way except his.

“I just think if I could get her alone for 10 minutes…” he said, eyeing her hopefully as she moved about the establishment.

“Rooster, give it up, she’s way out of your league and half the bar in here is hoping she’ll go home with them tonight,” Coyote said honestly.

“You’ve been drooling over her for months,” Fanboy agreed, “it’s getting pretty pathetic.”

But Rooster was more confident than ever. He knew they’d be great together – he just had to show her.

A little time passed, they took up a game of darts and after not too long, Caroline found herself making a sweep for empty glasses.

“Another, Phee?” She asked Phoenix, who nodded with a smile.

“We’ll do another round,” Coyote supplied. Caroline stacked up empty glasses, swinging around the space, aware of Rooster’s eyes on her as he leaned against the side rail that ran the length of the back wall.

“Grab your glass?” She asked, matching his posture against the drink rail, her open hand effortlessly clasping a tower of glass. Rooster pushed his empty toward her, a little downturned twitch of his mustache giving him away. “Why so glum, Rooster? It’s the Fourth of July,” she said, a little pout on her lips that made his stomach flip. “Have to imagine it doesn’t get better than that, huh?”

“What’s it going to take for you to have a drink with me?” He asked. “You know I’m eyein’ you up every time I come in here,” he elaborated.

“Maybe,” Caroline began, “I don’t want to have a drink with you at my place of work?” She suggested lightly. “But if you invited me to Buzzards, your odds would be a lot better,” she shrugged. “Thanks for the glass, Rooster, you can pick up a fresh one in 10.”

Caroline flitted away, making her journey back to the main bar with two tall stacks in her hands, gracefully hip-checking the counter to step inside.

“Maybe you do have a shot after all?” Phoenix asked, raising her brows as she turned back to the game of darts at hand. Bradley’s eyes tracked her as she moved about, pouring beers and mixing cocktails, his eyes zeroing in as she popped a maraschino cherry into her mouth before doing the same to a young, blonde sailor on the other side of the bar.

He wiped the back of his mouth off, crossing the room and heading over to the piano, his first initial plucks of the keys enough to clue a patron in to pull the plug on the juke box.

He cleared his throat as the intro grew stronger and louder, some already recognizing the tune.

“Where it began, I can’t begin to knowing,” he crooned. “But I know it’s growing strong.”

A few cheers rang out.

“Was in the spring, and spring became the summer, who’d have believed you’d come along?”

Caroline’s attention pulled over to the far wall, it now impossible to ignore with half of the bar singing Neil Diamond.

Hands, touching hands Reaching out, touching me, touching you

“Sweet Caroline!” Rooster belted, “good times never seemed so good!”

The crowd sang back, fists being pumped in the air.

So good! So good! So good!

“I’ve been inclined to believe they never would,” he focused his attention back down on his hands, but he could feel the brunette’s stare on the back of his neck.

Caroline shook her head, topping off another drink before grabbing a tall one and making her way through the crowd, which was packed near the piano as he carried on.

One, touching one

“Reaching out, touching me, touching you,” Rooster remained as focused as he could when he felt a paper-light touch travel across his the span of his shoulders, followed by a full beer being set on the top of the piano.

“Okay,” Caroline grinned, “you’ve got my attention,” she said, her arm resting across the top of his back. “So what are you going to do with it now that you have it?”

“The Deck is open until 11 – Buzzards is open till one, meet me there when you’re done?” He asked.

“I’ll be there,” she agreed, running her hand up his spine to squeeze the back of his neck. Rooster could barely keep playing as he nearly twisted his head all the way around to watch her walk away.

Buzzards Bar was different than the Hard Deck – younger, louder, and for Rooster, much less likely to run into his superiors. Sure, lots of sailors and aviators ended up there, but it wasn’t a dedicated bar like their usual haunt. Without the uncertainty hanging over his head, he really loosened up and had fun with his buddies at the Hard Deck, but they didn’t join him a Buzzards, opting to go find some fireworks instead.

It was 11:45 and Caroline hadn’t shown up yet, at least that he could see. He grabbed a round of drinks, another beer for him and a dirty Shirley for Caroline. If nothing else, he knew she loved cherries and this could be a pretty safe assumption.

Keeping a barstool warm near the back, Rooster’s gaze scanned the growing crowd on the dance floor. He could feel the air shift as Caroline approached the table, dressed in her same little outfit, bandanna around her neck like a little pack of goodies he’d like to unwrap. However, an unfamiliar man, who was standing just a bit closer to her than either of them liked, was closely trailing her. He was obviously trying to carry on a conversation with her over the loud bass of the music and she couldn’t be less interested.

Without effort or hiccup, Caroline waltzed right up to Rooster, standing between his legs that were angled outward on either side of his body, his feet on the bar of the stool. She leaned up against him, her elbows on resting on his thighs with her back to his front. Rooster’s arm immediately looped around her body, resting just below her neck, spanning across her chest.

The man immediately got the message and backed off, but she remained snug in his embrace when he walked away.

Caroline tipped her head back to look up at Rooster.

She knew she had a reputation as a flirt. It was silly to be a bartender and not take advantage just a little bit of what God gave her. But she loved Rooster’s attention. He was safe, simple and straightforward. He didn’t play games and treated her with respect.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she smiled, sending the breath rushing from his lungs.

“Happy Fourth,” Rooster said, using his free hand to offer her the cocktail.

“Mm, cherry – how’d you know?” She asked, taking a sip through the small black straw.

“Watchin’,”he replied, missing her warmth already as she put a little space between them, standing with her back to the dance floor.

“You watchin’ me?” She asked innocently enough, elbows on the high-top table. It took everything in him to keep his eyes on her face and not her cleavage that was winning the fight against her little white tank top.

“Hard to look away,” he said, taking a drink of his beer. “Though I think this is the most time you’ve ever spent looking back at me,” he added.

“Then you’re not as observant as you think, aviator,” Caroline said, setting her drink down reaching for his hand, pulling him off the chair and leading him into the throng of bodies. “Because I look at you plenty.”

Rooster was so surprised and exhilarated he wasn’t sure where to put his hands right away as she leaned back into him, moving her body to the beat of the song.

Cause great scenes might be great But I love your bloopers

“Rooster, relax,” Caroline purred as he ducked his head down to be closer to hers – his height difference over her apparent. She reached back, taking his hands in her and placing them on her body – one on her ribs and the other just inside of her hips. “You got me right where you wanted me.”

And perfect's for the urgent Baby I want forever

Caroline’s hands drifted up to cradle the back of his head, her back arching in the slightest. And while Bradley Bradshaw was a man of morals, they were mostly forgotten as he lowered his mouth to Caroline’s neck.

Caroline, don't you see that I want you to be mine?

“You request this one?” Rooster asked, his mustache ticking her in a skin, which immediately went to her nipples, hardening them beneath her tank.

“Just lucky I guess,” she breathed, rolling her head to the side to give him a little more access to her skin.

“I think luck follows you around,” he said.

“It must if you’re here with me,” she replied. Rooster didn’t even justify her comments with an answer. If she thought she was lucky because he was there with her, she wouldn’t begin to comprehend the amount of times he’d dreamt of this moment.

“Rooster?” She asked, threading her fingers through his hair, giving it a little tug as a test. The groan in her ear told her all she needed to know.

“Caroline,” he huffed out an exhale.

“I don’t want the rest of that drink,” she said, looking up to lock eyes with him. “I want you to put me in that big blue truck of yours and take me home.” Rooster felt his heart skip hard enough that it shot him with adrenaline.

“Honey, lead the way,” he replied, sober as a judge.

She’d seen the blue Bronco pull up to the Hard Deck a hundred times – it was as much a calling card of Rooster’s as his mustache or Hawaiian shirts. Now, she was thrilled to be inspecting the inside, her back to Rooster’s side with his arm draped over her shoulder again as she made the most of the bench seating.

Leading Caroline by the hand from the car to the house, she gladly stepped into his bachelor pad.

Rooster was just grateful that Bob was out of town for the weekend.

“Roommate?” She asked, walking along the picture rail in the family room – something Bob put up. It was mostly his stuff, anyway.

“You know Bob?” Bradley asked, tracking her movement as he stepped out of his shoes.

“Bob the sweetheart is your roommate?” She asked, looking over her shoulder, eyes dilating in the slightest as she took in the view. Rooster with his big shoulders, broad chest and handsome face – honey brown eyes focusing entirely in on her.

“Bob the sweetheart?” He asked, a small quirk to his lips.

“Bob the sweetheart, Bob the puppy dog…” she trailed off. “Pen and I have many nicknames for perfect Bob.”

“I think I’ve heard enough about perfect Bob,” Rooster said, advancing her like a predator stalking its prey.

“Want me to tell you what we call you behind your back?” She asked, a glint in her eye as he scooped her up with one arm, holding her tightly to his body as he carried her back to his bedroom.

“What’s that?” He asked.

“We – well, more like just me, because Penny babies you,” she screamed as Rooster gave her ass a hard squeeze. “But I,” she leaned in close, whispering into his ear, “I call you Oh My God Rooster,” she giggled, tracing the shell of his ear with her tongue. “Want to know why?” She asked.

“Tell me,” he said, kicking in his bedroom door.

“Because I always knew one day you’d make me say,” she fisted his shirt in her hands and tossed her head back, “Oh my God, Rooster!” She moaned, quickly gasping as he dropped her on his unmade bed.

“That shit isn’t fair,” he pointed an accusatory finger down at her before reaching for the fly on his shorts.

“Why not?” Caroline asked with a tilt of her head as she leaned back on her elbows.

“Because ever since you started at the Hard Deck, you haven’t given me the time of day,” he crawled over her on the bed, sealing his mouth over hers.

“I was avoiding you, I’ll admit,” she smirked, hips lifting as he began to pull her shorts off. “I knew as soon as this happened,” she paused, lifting his chin up to kiss her once more, “there’d be no going back.”

“You didn’t want to be my friend?” He asked, running his nose down her jawline as he reached behind her, pulling off her tank.

“Oh Rooster, we’re going to be much more than friends,” she purred, unhooking her bra. She reached for her little bandanna, but he stopped her.

“Leave it on, cowgirl,” he said, licking his lips. Stunned, he found himself down on the mattress, Caroline swinging a leg over his body to land gracefully on his hips. She pulled her bra down her arms and tossed it somewhere into the darkness – Bradley’s bedroom illuminated by the bright light of the moon through his window. He thought his tongue might roll out of his mouth like a yoyo.

“Does that make you my bucking bronco?” She giggled, reaching behind her to give his erection a quick, firm pump.

“Jesus,” he hissed, all the air leaving his lungs at once.

“Just Caroline,” she grinned maliciously.

“Why don’t you get up here and let me find out how sweet you are, Caroline,” he cajoled, tipping his chin up. The brunette threaded her fingers through his hair as she settled over his mouth, a long, low moan drawn from her lips as he licked a broad, flat swipe up the seam of her sex. Rooster’s hands slid around her sides and up to her lower back holding her body tight against his face.

“You’re never allowed to shave that mustache,” Caroline panted, followed by a high-pitched whine as she felt his whiskers against her clit. “Right there,” she mewled.

Rooster was a generous lover and apparently had a voracious appetite.

“Jesus Christ, Rooster,” she shivered as one of his thick fingers teased her entrance, circling her slowly as his lips cradled her clit. She could feel each and every one of his taste buds against her. “Roo, please,” she panted, “I want your cock.”

Bradley lifted her, a squeal on her lips as she landed back down on his abs. She couldn’t help but smile broadly at his wet mouth.

“If you smile at me like that again, I’m going to fucking marry you, Caroline,” he threatened, absolutely captivated by her.

She untied the bandanna from her neck, reaching down to cover his eyes and tie it loosely behind his head.

“Then don’t look, because I think I’m going to enjoy this a lot,” she said, smiling just the same as she lined up his cock and slowly sank down on it.

“You’re amazing,” Rooster crowed, “God you feel so good,” he said, hands resting on her soft thighs.

“You’re big,” she huffed, “like shit, Rooster, how do you have such good posture?” She asked, making him bark out a laugh. She settled herself all the way down and squeezed him on an upswing, making his abs flex as he tried to keep from busting immediately.

Leaning down, while still riding him smoothly, she pressed a kiss to his scarred cheek, tracing the line there with her tongue. He jumped as she dragged her teeth against his jawline, biting him gently while rolling his balls in her palm.

“Caroline,” he sounded worried, “I-fwa,” he lost his words as she did it again.

“Want me to stop?” She asked innocently enough.

“Don’t you dare,” he grunted while she tweaked his nipple.

“I can see it now,” she giggled, the action sending a ripple of pleasure down his spine. “C-a-r-o-l-i-n-e,” she twirled a finger across his pec.

“I’ll go tomorrow,” he promised, a sweat breaking out across his brow. He could feel her fingernails just grazing his happy trail as Caroline circled her clit, wanting to meet him at his level.

“Rooster?” She asked, and he could hear the breathlessness in her voice.

“Caroline?” He countered, his face screwed up in conversation.

“Cum,” she commanded, finding her own euphoria, setting him off just moments later, thrusting up into her as he rode out his orgasm. Caroline grinned, pushing off his blindfold to reveal his beautiful face again. “Hi gorgeous,” she greeted, a lazy, satisfied smile on her face.

“What did I tell you about that smile?” He groaned, palming her ass in his hands.

“I know the consequences of my actions,” she sighed dreamily. Climbing off of Rooster, she wandered her way into the bathroom, cleaning up and grabbing the T-shirt that was slung over the bathroom door before pulling it on.

Rooster was sure he was delirious as she joined him back in the bed, hiking a leg over his hip and throwing his comforter over both of them.

“Rooster?” She asked, sparing a glance over at his alarm clock, which was flashing nearly two in the morning.

“Caro-line,” he sang back.

“I want my eggs scrambled in the morning,” she said, eyes closing gently as she curled up on his chest.

“Yeah? And what would you like to eat?”

#Top Gun #Top Gun Maverick #bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #Bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw smut #rooster #rooster smut #rooster fluff #rooster x oc #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw x ofc #smut head #rooster is a big simp

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babiesdreams · 3 months

Text

Advent Calendar

Day 22 : Park Jimin . +18

Content Warning: Public, sex toy, dom jimin

Your legs close, trying to supress the feeling of the toy vibrating inside of you. His hand carress your back softly calming you down a little bit. Your fingers are still gripping onto a dress from the store. "I think this could look very pretty on you" His deep voice send shivers along your spine. When you look at him you can clearly see his finger, powered by the devil actively moving the buttom up and down, controlling the waves that brush pleasure into you.

He makes it stop and your body relaxes a little bit. The dress gets thrown into the shopping basket, that's already full with clothes. "Let's go to the fitting room and see how it fits you" You can't articulate words, since you're so worried it'll reveal your contained moans. You'd never been to a shop like this. Everywhere you look there's othing but luxury.

The fitting room is no exception. The workers walk you towards the biggest one in the whole store. It could be consider a small motel's room. There's champagne for you to share, a big ass couch and a podium. Your mind instantly links the room to a bride's fitting room. His hands are busy hanging the dresses to the racks, so you have time to recover from the intense vibrations.

Once he's finished, he sits on the couch, hands around the back of it, feet on the coffee table. You take it as a sign to start putting on the clothes. As soon as your pants fall to the ground the vibrations come back, your body shakes out of pleasure, your legs tremble threatening to fail and make you fall. "Don't stop" He orders.

You do your best to regain your strength and put on the first dress. The mirror reflects your figure. The long red dress fits you really well. Your breasts are being lifted by the fabric. Its thinness marks your nipples. "Come here" He demands and you obey. His hands touch your body, passing over your curves. They get all the way up to your breasts. They're cold, so cold that you feel the chilly sensations through the fabric. The vibrations speed up.

A soft moan escapes your lips and you rush to cover your mouth with your hands. He seems unbothered by it. His fingers move the fabric to expose your lingerie underwear. His index carress over your wettness, getting infected by the vibrations. "You must be desperate" He comments to himself. The toy's actions intensify. You try to protest with whispers but they get drown by your whimpers and moans. "You don't have permission to cum tho" His words set your mind on pain.

"May I cum?" You whisper. He simply shakes his head. "Try on the next dress come on" At this point your legs are so weak that you can barely walk. You somehow manage to tr on the next dress. The vibrations slow down. "I don't like this one" He says. You take the brief peaceful moment to breathe deeply. The next dress is much more flattering. Jimin seems to agree because the vibrations intensify.

"May I cum?" You ask again, more desperately. "You may not" He replies cruelly. "Please" You beg. Your legs finally give up, forcing you to fall onto the floor. "May I cum?" A shake of his head. "May I cum?" You repeat it a couple of times until you finally get his approval. Your orgasm is intense, messy, loud. It makes your pleasure feel with embarrasment and slight pain due to the overwork on your folds.

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

Hii, I wanted to inform you all that I'll be testing a new format with the advent calendar fics, so if you leave a comment, I'll reply portraying the characters of the fic. If you want someone specific to answer you write his name, if you don't I'll choose for you. Have a nice day and comment if you want to test this. If you prefer to test it anonimously you can leave it on my inbox. <3

Advent calendar masterlist

Masterlist

#kpop #kpop imagine #bts smut #bts #bts army #bangtan #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #smut fanfic #kpop roleplay #jimin #park jimin #bts jimin #jimin smut #jimin x reader #jimin fanfic #jimin imagine #jimin scenarios #bangtan jimin

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tenthousandyearsx · 8 months

Text

Thanks so much for tagging me @wolfpants, I loved reading yours! I've pretty much only published lots of PWPs so far, and while I loved writing every single fic I've posted, self-recs always feel a bit weird. x_x Anyway, I'll give it a go!

Rules: Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💙

‎ㅤ

Passably Wrecked (Drarry, E, 4.6k)

“Potter,” Malfoy says, sitting down next to him at breakfast. “I think we should have sex.”

Starting with this one because it's fairly recent and I don't think I've shared it here! Malfoy expresses scepticism about Harry's sexual prowess. Harry is having none of it.

‎‎ㅤ

Keep your hands on me (Drarry, E, 21k)

Malfoy binds himself with a sex curse. Harry cannot get enough (but would much prefer to keep Malfoy for himself).

Still the filthiest thing I've written imo – it's 21k of smut and I didn't self-censor at all, but I ~think~ I consider it porn with character development rather than pwp. I wrote the whole thing in a daze, which is my favourite way to write when the muses allow – and to my absolute astonishment (I was sure it was going to get hate), it tends to get my favourite comments too. ‎‎ㅤ

Just a trial run (Drarry, E, 9k)

Potter in his living room was a novelty and Draco could not take his eyes off him. He fixed both of them a drink, handed Potter his Firewhisky, then sat on the sofa. “From Saviour to Auror to whore,” he said. Potter choked on his drink. “Tell me, Potter, how does that happen?” In which Harry wants to get into sex work and Draco would prefer to keep him for himself.

I'm very fond of this fic and this Draco. I wrote it while I was working on KYHOM because I wanted to try a somewhat similar premise with the opposite dynamic, with top Draco and a more submissive Harry. It has both a paid sex kink and alcohol kink, which I have no idea where they came from, and while I've been postponing doing some proper edits on the second chapter, I absolutely loved writing it. ‎‎ㅤ

Trouble with your tie, Potter? (Drarry, E, 6.7k)

The last thing Harry expects when Slughorn partners him up with Zabini is Malfoy shooting them furious looks throughout the whole class and then unceremoniously snogging Harry in the corridor.

My Erised fic from last year! I was actually working on something else entirely, a much longer fic that fizzled and died on me halfway through. I have a self-imposed rule that the energy of a story has to be right and has to be such that the story drives itself – and, specifically for fic, that if I don't enjoy writing it, there's no point in doing it. So when writing a fic becomes a slog, I just go back and delete mercilessly. It still didn't help in this case though x_x, so I started writing "Trouble with your tie" instead, which was an absolute joy to work on and I'm so happy I did. There are some parts I still think I'll probably rewrite at some point, but I really loved writing H and D's dynamic here. Even though I don't agonise over my prose when I write fic, I am super careful about the energy I'm putting out and especially the feeling I'm leaving the reader with at the end, so I'm really happy they hit the mark in this case. ‎‎ㅤ

Not very gallant (initial Dronarry but endgame Dron, E, 3.3k)

“He likes it when I hurt him,” Harry tells Ron with a smirk. “And then you come in and soothe him.”

I wanted to include a non-drarry fic so here's a very recent one! I think I probably could have done more with it, but I loved writing Ron in this. Please mind the tags!!! Everything is super undernegotiated!!! It's endgame Dron, but Harry is perfectly fine with it. I should also probably mention that Harry is a bit of an asshole in this fic compared to the way I usually write him, but because I usually write Drarry and wanted this to be endgame Dron, I had to find a way for the dynamic to be in character, hot, and sexually charged, but not in a way that made me ship drarry too much. I'm also usually not good with threesomes or poly relationships because I always feel like someone is left out x_x, so I tried to put my own spin on it. This is what worked for me and I loved writing it! Do not expect considerate behaviour for like... most of it though.

Tagging @crazybutgood , @magpiefngrl , @orange-peony , @lumosatnight and anyone who'd like to join!

#tag game #mind the tags in each fic!!!#drarry #drarry fic #drarry fanfic #dmhp #hpdm #harry x draco #draco x harry #drarry smut #my fics #dron #dronarry

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radexchangeprogram · 1 year

Text

Still too crammed to put out a coherent piece of work so have some random hcs. I didn’t proof read this so I’m sorry for grammar errors.

Random Devildom Culture HCS (Romance/Courtship)

Courtship varies depending on the sin the demon is more affiliated with, but they all essentially do the same thing: showing a potential partner that they value them over their sin. For example, a sloth demon may offer to help a potential love interest with some work.

Demons tend to not do anything without ulterior motive, so if a demon starts doing stuff for you without them owing you/needing anything from you, they probably have a crush.

It’s a very difficult task for a lot of demons which is why it’s considered a big deal to go through with actually courting someone.

If the feelings are mutual, the other demon will de the same.

After proving that this is a committed courtship, then it starts to look a lot more similar to how humans date. This includes things like going to restaurants, going to movies, ect.

Grooming is also a major part of bonding with a partner. This can include buffing your partner’s horns, helping them shed, preening, helping maintain hooves, ect. It builds mutual trust as if a non-loved one where to touch any of these parts, a fight would definitely break out.

Over time, each demon does tend to take on more traits of the other’s sin. (E.g. an envy demon becomes more gluttonous if their partner is a gluttony demon and vice versa).

Demon relationships are more often than not open with both partners still having casual flings, but some couples prefer to keep a closed relationship. It’s not considered taboo either way.

Devildom weddings are a huge spectacle and extremely colorful. Both suits and dresses have various combinations of colors and are almost always custom made.

This is because the colors chosen are meant to come together to represent the unique chemistry of the relationship.

Couples can assign meaning to the colors as they please and it’s very common for keys that discuss the meaning of a couple’s colors to be handed out at weddings.

Demons get something similar to a pact mark after getting married. Both parties get it and it looks like a combination of the two’s sigils. If a human marries a demon, a unique mark is still formed, but it tends to be more representative of something the human has a deep connection to (plant, animal, ect).

Demons can marry multiple partners and many do. Like I said earlier, it just depends on the relationship. A unique mark will form per spouse.

I don’t think demons, with the exception of envy or greed demons, get particularly possessive over a partner. They do, however, get pretty protective. To a human, this can appear possessive as demons can get more aggressive with it, but most demons back off right away or a partner can talk them down pretty fast so it doesn’t often break out into fights.

Because of their lifespan, marriage milestones tend to be every 20 years. Human-demon couples typically adopt the human tradition of celebrating yearly.

If you think I should write some specific courting hcs of the current characters, please let me know. My semester ends in about 3 weeks so I should have more time.

If you liked this, please also consider reblogging/leaving a comment. It really helps my work get out there more and it means a lot.

EDIT: Ty so much for all the support and kind comments this post has received 😭😭 this is a side blog so tumblr doesn’t let me reply directly under this URL, but I wanted to say I’ve been reading all of them with a big smile on my face.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me x reader #om! swd #om headcanons

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gtgbabie0 · 1 year

Text

Like a renaissance painting

{You admire Remus whilst he paints}

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

You study the slight curve of Remus’ back as he sits in front of the small canvas, he’s shirtless because apparently he ‘works better than way’ although you’re certainly not complaining at the beautiful sight, the way small little beauty marks litter across his skin like constellations or how he has this one specific scar that stretches up the expanse of his spine that you love to trace with nimble fingers.

You watch his muscles move as he stretches, sitting up and rolling his shoulders, before reaching over to a small cup of discolored water swishing his paintbrush around then gently dipping it back into the blue paint, and he methodically moves the paintbrush across the canvas, you can’t see what he’s painting from where your laying on his bed but you just know it’s a masterpiece.

A sudden gust of wind pushes itself through the window and into his room, his thin curtains waving with the movement, “Are you getting cold dove?” He asks turning around to admire you, and you shake your head with a small ‘no’ as he gently smiles at you.

“If you get cold let me know I’ll close the window, there’s also a jumper over there, okay?” He says nodding over to where a clean pile of clothes sits neatly on his wooden dresser.

“Yeah”

He goes back to whatever he’s painting, the sun is setting, and an orangey light casts through his room, dusting against his skin, it’s a warm glow that makes him seem ethereal. Not even a full minute passes and he’s already stretching again shoulders moving in circles, you can tell he’s getting restless.

He sighs, “Alright, that’s me done,” he says standing up, he takes a seat next to where you’re laying, looking down at you with the softest eyes, and his hand gently cups your warm cheek, “How’s your head dove?” He asks, thumb smoothing over the skin.

“Better than yesterday, think your ‘magic tea’ helped” you hum as he nods with relief, he hates seeing you in pain.

“That’s good” he smiles, your hand reaching up to thread your fingers through his unkempt hair, admiring his face, and he goes all bashful under your loving gaze, “I love you” he whispers, leaning down to where your laying pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“I love you too” you smile, your chest blooming with devotion as your thumb grazes against the scar that adorns his cheek, “You’ve got paint on your face” you giggle noticing the smudge of blue that smears across his chin.

He doesn’t say anything, he’s just studying you with his lovesick eyes, so full of such care and adoration that it makes you feel giddy, butterflies flutter around in your belly as you watch his eyes flicker down to your lips.

And before you can reply with some snarky comment he’s peppering kisses all over your face, trailing off to your jaw and then shoulders, and you burst out in a fit of giggles at the sudden ticklish sensation.

“You’re so pretty, so gorgeous— just like a renaissance painting” he chuckles as you let out a groan, pushing at his shoulders as you try and break free of his hold, “M’telling the truth, you’re so lovely” he whispers, lips grazing against your jaw as he nibbles at the sensitive skin.

“Yeah yeah alright, the paint fumes are getting to your head” you chuckle and he rolls his eyes playfully laying his body weight down on you with a huff, and you cave in relishing in his warmth as your fingers tail against the scar that stretches up his spine.

“Such a sap” you sigh, looking over at the painting that he was working on, it’s not finished yet but you already know what it is, it’s you, captured by surprise in a candid Polaroid he’d taken a couple of days ago.

Remus looks up at you through his eyelashes from where his head is laying against your chest, “Do you like it?” He asks watching as you study his unfinished artwork, and he sees the joy that gleams through your eyes.

“Yes, you’ve made me look much more pret—“ he cuts you off as his hand clasps over your mouth.

“I didn’t do anything, that’s all you dove” he whispers removing his hand before pressing a loving kiss and you relish in the warmth of his lips against yours, completely heavenly.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

☾⋆AN/ hope you enjoyed my lovelies! <3

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jaeminri · 1 year

Text

21:22 ✿ lee haechan ⁝ 0.6k words

with the way donghyuck is staring at you, mark thinks he might be boring holes into the side of your head, or more specifically, lee jeno's head.

“dude, you stare any harder and your eyes are going to pop out.” mark comments, leaning forward to rest his arms on the lunch table. donghyuck doesn't even respond, only glaring at the sight of you and jeno.

“why not just ask her out already?”

the sentence catches his attention immediately, as he snaps his head so quick, the canadian boy thinks he might break his neck.

“ask her out? why would i do that? she's annoying.” donghyuck huffs, looking at mark then back at you ever so often. at that moment, your laughter rings from your table as you tilt your head back and hit on jeno's shoulder lightly. what did he even say that was so funny? isn't jeno like the most unfunny person ever?

“please, you've been glaring at them since the moment they walked in the cafeteria.” mark snickers. as if offended, donghyuck says, “i'm just worried for him. what if,” he leans toward the older boy — who in turn leans forward — and whispers dramatically, “what if he gets her stupidity? it's contagious, you know?” mark actually wants to shoot himself in the head right now. how could some one as intelligent and sharp as donghyuck (he can't believe he's saying that), be so fucking oblivious and dumb?

groaning in annoyance, mark smacks the back of donghyuck's head. “i don't know why i even try.” he comments.

“i need to get to class. you can have fun doing whatever your dumbass is doing.” then before he can even reply, mark is already up and out of the cafeteria, leaving donghyuck alone at the table.

with no hesitation, the latter's eyes immediately snap toward you and again, you're giggling your butt off with jeno. there was no way he was that funny, honestly speaking.

donghyuck just stares and stares and stares. he contemplates going up to you and just pull you out of jeno's presence, but he just...can't. what right did he have? and why would he do that anyway? it's not like he liked you or whatever of that sort.

you cannot help the laughter that bubbles out of your throat as jeno tells the story of how his cat actually took a shit on his homework. it's so stupid yet somehow the tears of laughter won't stop falling.

“why are you laughing? it's not funny! mr. kim won't stop nagging me to print my own copy!” he whines, resting his against his palm with his elbow on the table. you wipe at your eyes, “sorry, it's just hilarious because such a thing actually happened.”

“yeah! and i already feel miserable enough and you're here laughing!”

“okay, okay i'll stop.”

there is a moment of silence between the both of you for awhile, until jeno suddenly speaks up again.

“hey, do you know that dude over there?” when you look at him, he's eyeing someone behind you and pointing with his chin. you follow his gaze and immediately, your eyes meet lee donghyuck.

“oh,” you frown, “you mean donghyuck?”

“you know him?”

the thought of said male makes you annoyed, as you nod sourly, “yeah, i guess...”

“you guess?” you suppose you did know him but in the most hateful way ever. you nod, as jeno hums, scratching his chin. “i think he likes you. he's been glaring at me since i've started talking to you.” his words make you snort and knock his forehead, “don't make me laugh. he hates me so much, he'd rather fail his final exam than work on a project with me.” you gaze back at donghyuck who still glares at you.

yeah, definitely hates me.

“just ignore him, jen. probably thinking of ways to murder me or something.”

oh, only if you knew.

#lol this is bad #but e2l hyuck is always in my head #nct #nct dream #nct x you #nct x reader #nct x y/n #nct dream x you #nct dream x y/n #nct dream x reader #lee haechan #lee haechan x you #lee haechan x reader #lee haechan x y/n #haechan x you #haechan x reader #haechan x y/n

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semifilms · 1 year

Note

Prompt : waking up horrified as they find out pictures of them making out in a parking lot have been spread everywhere overnight

Character: The rooster headed capitalist

PLEASEEEEE

Thank you <3

☆"WHAT DO WE DO NOW?" | kuroo tetsuro

a/n - tell me why when i tried to title this i struggled so i wrote it first then settled. anyway! i also thought imagine “rooster head capitalist” is someone completely different…i’ll delete my account

cw - light swearing & manga spoilers (?)

prompt list - @novelbear

last night was mostly a blur to you. you remember going out to hang out with some of your friends. no, it wasn’t a blur because you were hungover, you honestly em barely even drank. the night was just long and…interesting.

as you groggily say up in your bed rubbing your eyes, you thought back to last night. and your fingers hovered over your lips at a specific moment in the night. one where you were in a dimly lit booth with one of your closest friends. kuroo tetsuro.

you’ve known him for a few years now and he’d never really tried anything with you. romantically that is. yet last night he was all over you. making flirty comments and touching you in places that gave you butterflies. even if they were just small gestures.

and last night, you fed into the flirting because why not? the next thing you knew though, your lips were interlocked with his, and his jaw was cupped gently on your jaw.

you'd admit it, kuroo was a good kisser, a great one even. especially when that was the first thing you thought about the next morning. but you’re just friends and nothing more so why did it even happen?

you were pulled away from your thoughts when you heard your phone continuously vibrate. letting out a small yawn you reached for your phone and turned it on to see several missed calls and texts. “oh shit.” you mumbled out loud as you opened one from your cousin, confused.

it was just a link to twitter followed by three question marks, so you clicked it ad your mouth fell slightly agape when the tweet loaded and you saw the photos attached.

if it weren’t for the familiar black bead of hair you wouldn’t have been able to tell that the other person in the image. barely visible but lips so obviously locked with kuroo’s was you. you didn’t even want to scroll through the replies, just the thought made your stomach churn.

the caption on the tweet read;

Kuroo Tetsuro, JVA for the Japan Men’s National Volleyball Team was spotted last night with a mystery lover. Many thought he was an eligible bachelor, but were they wrong? Read more here!: (linktogossipsite.jp)

without another thought, you opened up your call log and searched his name, and hit call. the line buzzed a few times before you heard his voice ring through.

“hello?” he has just woken up, and his voice was low and groggy. you could hear him shuffling to sit up.

“have you seen twitter?” you asked immediately after his response. “no, i just woke up, you woke me up.” he groaned. “we’ll check, because you’re trending.” you said with an eye roll before adding on, “actually, we’re trending.”

with that you could hear him scramble out of his bed on the other side, “hold on” he mumbled before his side went silent. you waited in silence impatiently. “OH SHIT!” kuroo booked through the phone. “who even took these, do these people not know what privacy is?”

you chucked a little bit at his comment, “i don’t think i want to be spotted with you in public anymore if it means im going o be photographed mr. sports promoter for the national volleyball team.” you cooed teasingly.

“hey don’t be like that! who cares if we were together anyway, it’s not anyone else’s business but ours.” you felt butterflies flutter around in your stomach at that comment. but you shouldn’t have, because that wouldn’t happen. you were just friends.

right?

“kuroo what do we do now?”

“do you want to go out tonight y/n?” he cut you off and you felt a lump form in your throat. “did you even hear me?” you asked. “i heard what you were trying to say, yes.” he said, “but i want to take you out on a proper date. last night was us and friends, and it wasn’t a date.”

“are you serious? people are going to keep thinking we’re a couple?”

“so? who cares y/n? do you want to go on a date or not?” you’d be lying to yourself if you said no. and besides, he was right, who really cared if random people on the internet would get upset. “okay yeah sure.”

“great, dress nice and i’ll pick you up at 9 tonight.”

reblogs appreciated!

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