#no one absolutely NO ONE would switch places with me given what i know

[k-hotchoisan]

good girl’s guide to summoning a demon (san x fem!reader)

How to summon a demon:

Step 1: do a summoning ritual

Step 2: fail the ritual (?)

Step 3: go about your life and forget about the demon you were supposed to summon

Step 4: get caught during your play time by said demon

Step 5: get fucked dumb by said demon ❤️‍🔥

Genres/Warnings: demon summoning, masturbation, (slight) degrading, fun demon magic making you feel more tingly (aphrodisiacs), dacryphillia, cream pies, bulge kink, unprotected sex, horn kink, ooo san is a monster (demon) pls come get me 👀👻

Word count: 3.4K

A/n: had this at the back of my head for awhile??? Very appropriate for the month of Kinktober. Get a hot demon under your bed who’d fuck you good my friends 👽👍🏻 (also please DO NOT actually summon a demon. I think that’s a given 😭)

You stared at the red, carefully drawn circle before you. You were naked, kneeling at the edge of the circle, looking at the full moon.

It seemed like nothing happened. Did the summoning fail? You pursed your lips, retracing your steps of the ritual in your head. Yeah, you did the steps correctly. But what went wrong? No matter how much you tried to shuffle through your memories, nothing came up. You huffed in frustration, deciding to ditch the failed ritual, doing a proper clean up and seal before going to wash up in your bathroom.

Your hands feel for the switch, turning it off before snuggled under the sheets in your lounge wear, feeling yourself drift into slumber. Little did you realise the hand that stretched beneath the bed, clawing out from the dark hiding place. The entity pulled himself out, blending into the shadows, only his crimson eyes twinkling against the dark. San stared down at you, who was sound asleep. He was wondering what to do with you, how to get your attention, how to terrify you—until he realises that you were the one who summoned him.

Curiosity only brews in the demon as he constantly watches you from the shadows, observing you go through your daily life as if nothing happened—but he was mostly curious about you, wondering why you even summoned him in the first place. You seemed so unbothered, and for some reason, that bothered him. At the same time, San finds himself hesitating to make himself appear before you, somehow enjoying the seemingly peaceful life you led. He hears your soft breathing whenever you sleep, and he goes from hiding under your bed to listening to you sleep on your own bed. But the moment you toss go face him, he knows he’s fucked—staring right at your sleeping face, and he can’t help but be mesmerised by it. The monster under your bed was now on your fucking bed, and San finds it amusing until he realises that he’s supposed to haunt you, and he immediately slips back into the darkness, his non-existent heartbeat pounding in his ears.

But what really threw him was that one night—when he finally decides to show himself to you. He hides underneath your bed, as usual, waiting for you to turn off the lights, already planning how to interrupt your sleep. The moment the lights turn off, San’s eyes glow a pretty scarlet red this time. He waits it out patiently—for the exhaustion to slowly lull you into a slumber before he claws out from under your bed.

Everything is silent for a while. San’s prepared to leave his hiding spot, but freezes when he hears something—groaning and whimpering? He scrunches his eyebrows in confusion and continues to stay at where he is, trying to make sense of the strange noises. San pulls himself out from under your bed, his hands gripping the edges of your bed. Now he hears soft squelching sounds, which is making him flush a little. But what comes to sight would be something he would never have expected.

You are sprawled on your bed, fully naked, your knees bent as you fucked the red dildo you had in your hands, moans pouring out of your lips in harmony, your eyes roll back as your back arches on instinct. San’s mind goes absolutely haywire at the sight of you looking like that—the way you’re pushing the toy out of your cunt when your cunt is pushing it back out, and the way you’re creaming so much, some even leaking onto the towel beneath you. He completely materialises onto your bed, staring at you in hunger, lust and desire.

“Well, what do we have here?” He says, as his hands trail over your sides, making you jump in surprise.

Your eyes widen at the figure before you, soaking in his features—his hair is dark and tussled, and his black horns poke out his head, twisting upwards. His eyes were looking frenzied—red and glowing framing against his toothy smirk. Fuck, he’s cute though.

But your little play time stops immediately, the dildo half way through into your cunt when you got surprised by whatever the hell that person was.

“Who are you- what are you? And what are you doing in my room?” You squeak, your hands gripping your pillows.

“You fuckin summoned me and you didn’t even know?” San pouts. “San? Does that ring a bell?”

It takes you a few seconds to think back and a lightbulb goes off in your head when you finally remember.

“Oh right! So it did work”, you gleam. You look down at the state you are in, and your face immediately flushes. “Yeah, you definitely caught me at an interesting moment.” Your hands reach to take out the dildo, but San’s movements are quicker than yours, his fingers curling around the dildo.

He pulls it out, agonisingly slow, and your eyebrows scrunch in pleasure, small whines leaving your lips. Then he plunges it back in, and your head falls back as your body twitches in bliss.

“F-fuck”, you cry out, wondering if the pleasure was from the way San was starting to fuck the dildo into you or the fact that he was watching you fuck yourself with it.

San leans in closer to your face, and you actually realise how fucking mind blowing he looks. His free hand cups your jaw to face his scarlet eyes, which was almost hypnotic.

“If you wanna keep playing, I’ll let you be my dirty little whore”, he hums, stopping his actions, pulling out the dildo completely, leaving you empty and whimpering.

You don’t answer, simply wrapping your hands around his neck and pulling him in, devouring his lips like a starved woman. San’s eyes widen in surprise—it seems like everything you do to him only rouses his intrigue in you—luring him in like a siren.

Your tongues tangle each other as moans leave your throat, egging San on to be more aggressive. He pulls back and a string of spit connected the both of your tongues. He combs your hair back, enjoying how fucked out you look just from making out. “Aren’t you one needy little slut?”

You smile. “Aren’t you a late comer?” San’s eyes widen with amusement as he feels himself fluttering over how you were actually waiting for him.

Your head is suddenly feeling lighter, and your cunt is buzzing with some sort of feeling of pleasure as your heart beat quickens. Something was in his saliva, you looking up at him, feeling the heat pool even more intensely in your core.

“It’s a little something. What do you guys call it—aphrodisiac or some sort?” He smiles, baring his pretty little fangs. You stare at his crazed eyes. Oh you were fucked. In the best ways possible.

The burn begins be unbearable as your hands automatically reach down to ease the sexual frustration, grabbing San’s wrist with the dildo to fuck yourself with. San sighs mockingly.

“Why fuck yourself with that when I can do a much better job?” He asks rhetorically, his wrist not moving an inch despite you using all of your strength.

He twists his wrist, and the dildo fucks you again, causing your body to jolt from the sudden movement. But it’s evident that he’s missing your g-spot on purpose, denying you the pleasure you crave so badly. The dildo is out of your pussy once again, and the heat in your core just burns with lust, almost painfully.

Your breathing becomes more ragged, wanting something in your pussy right about now. You tug his hand as he lets go of the toy which sits right on the towel, in front of your sex. San tips your chin up with his fingers as he presses his lips onto yours, convincing you to open your mouth for him and you do, by raw instinct. He tasted so fucking good—like something you could never get enough of. Every time he swipes his tongue past your bottom lip, you feel your cunt pulse, and more of your essence leaks out. San pulls back, looking at your half-lidded eyes as the string of spit connects the both of you—so desperate yet so endearing. His gaze can’t leave yours.

“Please fuck me, San. Fuck me deep and nice, would you?” You plead, your grip tightening. “I’m already stretched out so well for you.” You pull your folds apart with two fingers as your cream dribbles down your wet hole, and onto the dildo.

San is starting to slowly lose his composure too, watching you beg so nicely like that. He can’t deny you of that since you were polite about it, right?

He straightens his back to pull his shirt off, with a body so fucking delectable, you wonder what’s he keeping behind his pants.

And you did not have to wait long because his pants are off soon enough, and the outline of that dick, pressing against his underpants with a small wet patch at the top was sending your mind into a frenzy. You swallow hard, how the fuck will that fit in you? Then again, whenever you attempted to try to connect the nerves in your brain to think, the aphrodisiac only hazes you even further, all that occupied your mind was just to be fucked dumb.

San’s hands that touched your thighs snaps you out of the clouds, demanding your attention.

His fingers then intertwine yours as he guides you to pull his underwear down. A loud exhale releases from you as you do, because his cock springs out, and that’s the only thing you’ll be thinking about until next week, you swear.

“What are you so deep in thought about?” San asks as he peppers kisses all over your neck and shoulders as his hands roam around your body, tracing every curve and dip he feels. His thumb presses on your nipple and you jerk upwards, a soft cry emitting from you as you hook your arm around his neck while the other supports your body on the bed.

San’s large hands has your back supported as he lowers his head to suck on your tits. Your hands trace his horns which are to your eye level now. The arm around his neck is released, now both of your fingers tracing around his horns, admiring the way they twist so prettily.

Almost as if they were made to be pulled.

You don’t hear the soft gasps from the male on your chest as you are sort of drowning in the way he’s flicking and sucking your tits—every few seconds you fight the urge to close your eyes and succumb to it. But not yet. You wrap your fingers around the two large and hard, appendages, and tug. Hard.

A fucking sinful ass moan escapes from the male below you as your tug causes him to tilt his head to face you.

“Fuck”, he whimpers, his eyebrows scrunching. The cock that’s lying on your thigh throbs, and you feel more sticky and slick fluid stain your thigh.

Oh. Okay.

You tighten your grip, and yank harder this time, and a louder cry cracks from him. His eyes are shut this time and his nipples are rubbing against your chest. His cock is so fucking wet now that the wet, sticky patch on your thigh is starting to leak down to the towel.

“Does that feel good, Sannie?” You ask mockingly, stroking his horns. The demon is fighting every nerve to stay in control as you feel his grip tighten around your waist.

But he still answers.

“Yeah. It feels so fucking good.”

Before you could respond, he catches you off guard, and pulls you to straddle his lap. You try to squirm, to no avail as he has you seated like a good girl. San leans in to your ear, and his voice sends you shivers.

“But you’re gonna pay for doing that, darling.”

Your words are stuck in your throat, and pretty much dissipate when you feel San poking your hole with his girthy cock.

“I don’t know if-“

“Yes you can. You’re a good girl. You can take it”, he hums, stroking your sides. Then the next moment, his hand flies onto your thigh with a loud smack, causing you to jolt upwards in shock, and his cockhead is now pressing right into your wet cunt.

Your hands are flat on his shoulders, as his hands are on your hips. Your heart pounds in your ears as you push yourself downwards, feeling the first few inches drag deeper in your needy pussy. San groans, his head is tilted back, preserving all the self control not to just slam you right down and impale you.

Tears are pooling at the corners of your eyes—not from the pain though. The stretch definitely has some pressure but every inch San plunges in you, you feel yourself losing it. But at the last few inches, San can’t wait, and he impales you straight in, balls deep.

“Fuck! Oh my fucking god, San. So fucking deep”, you cry out, your mind buzzing as your hands are wrapped tight around his neck.

“There you go. You’re taking me so well, baby. Look at you, such a pretty cock-drunk slut”, he smiles, pulling you apart from hugging him so he could see your fucked out face from being impaled.

Your breathing is shallow, and your cunt is clenching around him so fucking desperately, and you barely even started moving. You only had tunnel vision for the demon before you.

“So good that nothing’s coming out?” He asks, his fingers tilting your chin as you could only look at him dumbly. “Baby, we’re just getting started.” His finger traces over the bulge his cock was hidden in, and he presses it, and your jaw slacks, a whimper escaping as your walls further clench on him.

His hands snake around your ass as he lifts your ass up, and you cry from how fucking good his cock is just dragging over your walls so perfectly, before slamming you back down without warning, and your whole body shakes from the bliss, your sanity slipping dangerously quick. Your forehead rests on his shoulder before you straighten your back, craving for the way his cock rubs every single nerve in your cunt.

So you start moving in your own, grinding back and forth, his cockhead hitting your g-spot with every motion.

“So good, darling. Oh, that feels so fucking amazing”, San moans, giving your ass another tight spank, and whimpering when he feels your walls squeeze him. It’s not enough. Your ass lifts and you slam back down, your eyes rolling back, feeling the way his dick is just plowing into you. You’re calling his name like a mantra every time his cock hits your spot so perfectly. He stares down, looking at the way you’re creaming nonstop on his fat cock, some leaking past his thighs and onto the fabric below. He loves the way his cock pulls out of you, along with your string of moans and cries before it swallows his cock up once more.

“San, I love the way your cock fills me up like this,” you crack in between tears from the pleasure as you palm the bulge. You know your orgasm is approaching just from the way your thighs are starting to shake uncontrollably and the way you’re pulsating around San’s dick.

“Of course you do. I was made for you after all,” he coos, lifting you up again and fucking into you once more, drawing another cry from you. “Look at you, stuffed so full of my cock.”

Your hands find his horns again and you find the strength to give a small tug.

His cock twitches in you. So fucking good.

You give them a stroke before you latch your tongue on, slicking one of the hard appendage with your saliva.

San bites his lip, and you feel his cock expand in you, and your eyes roll back once more as you bask in how full he’s making your cunt feel. San has his lips on your chest and he’s starting to leave you dark love bites. You twirl your tongue around the other horn, as you go from bottom to top, loving the way his cock twitches violently in you every time you do so.

“Fuckkkkkk”, he groans as he starts making you bounce on his cock. The sounds skin slapping could definitely compete with how dirty the both of you sounded. Your neighbours were sure to send in complaints. But fuck that. Dick first.

The knot in your stomach tightens, so does your cunt as San continues to pound into you from below. The way his cock is sliding in and out of you from the below was the only sensation you could feel as your orgasm builds more rapidly. “San, I’m gonna cum. It’s coming out”, you manage in between tears. San pulls you in for a very messy kiss as your jaw slacks naturally the moment your cunt starts violently pulsing from the orgasm, and all you see beneath your eyelids are stars. Your body shakes in aftershocks.

You feel yourself losing strength and San lifts you off him. You whine from the emptiness as San stares at the way so much cream is just leaking out of your hole.

But he’s not done yet.

He pins your body down onto the bed and your is ass up in the air.

“It’s okay baby. Just take it like the good little girl you are”, San hums as he draws gentle circles on your back before slipping his wet cock right into your cunt, and your mind turns into complete mush from the overstimulation.

His hand finds your neck as he pins you down before fucking you once more, each time sending you so fucking far into the heavens. Your strength is pretty much depleted, and you let him abuse your cervix with no complaints as the pleasure starts building in your tummy again. Barely audible moans escapes from your lips as you let your body jerk from San’s thrusts.

So good. So perfectly mind-breakingly good. You love the way it tingles in your pussy, you love the way he’s fucking you so dumb that all you’re only thinking about is his fat cock, and you’re drooling just at the thought of him flooding your hole just full of his cum.

“Fuck. You’re tight”, the demon grunts, tugging your pussy hole as his cock sinks into your heat once more, causing you to hiss as dopamine rushes through you once more.“I’m gonna make sure I fill you up so good, baby. So much that my cock will be the only cock you’ll remember.”

He doesn’t falter at that promise because the moment he says that, your cunt just squeezes him, and you don’t think, only feeling how fucking good the second orgasm is hitting your cunt as the dopamine rush floods all of your senses, before the feeling of San’s thick ropes of cum spurt in your walls endlessly. So fucking much that it streams out of your hole, and trickles down your inner thighs. San gingerly pulls out, grunting at the sensitivity, before rubbing his fingers all over your throbbing and abused cunt full of cum, and pushing his fingers to your lips, which you gladly lick clean. You look up to meet his eyes and he looks so fucking proud of you.

San, on the other hand, was so smitten by you. Everything he had observed while finding a way to make his presence known to you, he only noticed your small habits and how you navigated around your living space in your own unique ways.

San moves in for another starved kiss before he pulls back, admiring how lovely you looked being absolutely ruined by him, especially being littered with pretty bites all over your neck and chest.

He’s confident he’s staying as your monster under your bed for a very long time.

The burning question in his head suddenly resurfaces the moment his eyes flicker to the faded summoning circle of your oak floor. He turns to you as he joins you to lie down.

“So what did you summon me for exactly?” He asks, pulling playfully against your fingers.

“Ah-“ you respond as the reminder hits you as well. San raises an eyebrow as he leans in closer to you to hear your answer.

“I wanted someone to hug!”

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez smut #smut #ateez fic #kpop smut #ateez san #Choi san smut #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #Choi san x Reader #choi san

[sapphenaa]

Worship | Azriel x Priestess!Reader

Summary: In which Azriel shows you that he does, in fact, know how to worship you.

This is purely smut. Do not expect a plot lmao. also minors dni pretty please thank you.

Warnings: pussy worship baby, smut, p in v, choking, absolute worship of reader, cat and mouse game (kinda?)

It started with the simple touches. Hands brushing, eyes locking for only a second before you looked away, a blush covering your face. You had only known the male for a week, yet it seemed as if every bone in your body yearned to be near him. 

Azriel was hemlocked beauty, sharp and stunning, but you knew there was something dark lurking beneath his golden skin. Ever since that first night in the library, where you saw him on the couch, you had not been able to stop thinking about him. He was propped up against the leather arm, a book in one hand while his other propped up his head. He glanced up at you and that was when you knew you were gone. You were utterly enamored by him, and he knew it.

That’s why whenever you saw him, there was a slight smirk on his lips. His fingers would skim your own, or they would rest on your hips as he passed. The shadows that accompanied him would ghost over your forearms, your calves, your cheek. 

You knew he thought this was a game–it was all too easy to rile the Day Court priestess up, to make your cheeks heat, to be the reason behind your shy glances. You, however, could not find a reason to care. Azriel was absolutely delectable and you wouldn’t mind landing in his bed. But you were playing your own game, at the time. He wasn’t going to get you easily. And it seemed as though his patience was almost up.

Azriel was exactly where he was the first time you saw him. You had given him a nod as you entered, books already stacked in your arms as you beelined for a table across the room from him. Even as you felt his eyes roam your body, you studied. Your nose stayed stuck in book after book for two hours. His shadows were getting antsy, more whirling around you by the minute. You finally glanced up at Azriel with a quirked brow and a soft smile on your lips. 

“You mind calling back your shadows?” Instead of responding he bookmarked his forgotten novel and stalked towards you, wings flexing out slightly. You stood, closing your own novel and bringing it to rest against your chest. 

“What have you been reading about for hours?” He drawled, his tone uninterested, but his asking saying otherwise. You shrugged and pushed your chair in.

“Oh, just priestess work. It would bore you.” You began to walk to the shelves, swaying your hips more than usual, as you went to return the book to its rightful spot. 

“Humor me.” He was following you; that was exactly what you wanted. You halted, whirling around to face him as you tilted your head in amusement.

“Well, I’m re-reading the old ways of worship.” The room around you became shaded as his shadows started to filter through the library.

“Worship? Please, do tell. In what ways do the past priestesses worship their gods?” You bit your lip, flitting your gaze to the ground.

“Well,” you started, eyes back on his, “I could tell you, but you wouldn’t understand.” He smirked at that as he casually leaned against a bookshelf beside him.

“What wouldn’t I understand, little priestess?” You shrugged and turned down one of the rows, Azriel following behind. Only once the novel that you held was placed back onto the shelf, you turned and deaned to answer him.

“You don’t know how to worship, Azriel.” Once the words left your lips, it was as if a switch was turned on. Azriel’s eyes darkened, zoning in on you with those hazel hues. 

“I know how to worship,” He purred, taking a step towards you as his wings stretched out behind him. Your eyes widened unconsciously, a gulp going down your throat. You always knew Azriel was scary, but this? This was utterly terrifying in the best possible way. His dark hair was mussed, eyes glazed as they stared into yours. His typically rigid posture was looser. He was looking down at you as if he were a god and you his creation.

For a second, you thought perhaps ichor ran through his veins. You pushed that thought deep down, however, knowing exactly what the Elders would have to say about that.

“I’ve spent years learning at the Temple, you’ve never set foot in to pray. Of course you don’t know how to worship.” He chuckled as he took another step towards you, effectively backing you up against the bookshelf.

“That’s where you’re wrong, little priestess.” Featherlight fingertips smoothed across your cheek and down your neck. Azriel leaned in, hot breath on your skin, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I know how to worship.” His grip tightened on the back of your neck, keeping you still as he pressed a kiss just below your ear. You couldn’t help but to expose your neck to him, a breathy sigh escaping your lips as he pressed chaste kisses down your neck.

“I may not know how to worship your gods,” his eyes gazed up at you as he got down on his knees, hiking one of your legs over his shoulder, “but I certainly do know how to worship you.” A gasp escaped you as he sucked a bruise into the skin of your inner thigh. His name fell from your lips, a failed hesitation as he moved his lips upward.

Your arousal pooled off of you in waves–even you could smell it as his finger traced your slit through soaked panties. Hazel irises met yours again, a silent question as he teased the fabric down. Your eyes shut, head hitting the novels behind you.

“Oh gods, yes.”

Azriel put your leg down, gently helping you out of your undergarments. He pulled your leg back up over his shoulder as soon as the piece of fabric was discarded on the floor. “A god indeed,” he murmured, eyes unmoving from your glistening pussy. That was the only warning you got before he licked a fat stripe up your clit, eliciting a whimper from your lips. You felt him smile against your skin, lips wrapping around your bud and sucking softly. Your hands moved with their own volition, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling on the strands ever so slightly.

He growled and nipped, sending a bolt of heat up your spine. Azriel parted to slide a finger against you, coating it in your slick. As soon as he plunged it into you, his lips were back on your clit in a frenzy. He was no longer gentle, but ravenous, feasting on you like a man starved while his shadows eased down the sleeves of your dress.

You felt like you were floating, blissed out sounds falling from your lips, thighs shaking as he held you against the shelf. Shadows breezed around your nipples, pinching and pulling, and another finger entered you. 

“Come on sweet girl,” he lilted against you, his words vibrating against your clit. You dug your fingers into his scalp, fully at his mercy as your orgasm overcame you. His name was the only word you seemed to know as he worked you through your pleasure, never slowing down. Your eyes opened, black spots coating your vision as you looked down at him with tears in your eyes.

“Please, please Azriel.” You whined, eyes fluttering shut once again as another wave washed over you.

“Please what?” He pushed his fingers in deeper, hitting the spot that made you fall apart again.

“It’s too much.” You were sobbing by the time he pulled away from you. He stood up, hands steady against your hips as your body threatened to slide to the floor. Azriel tilted your chin, urging your eyes to meet his. He was golden, eyes alight, lips glistening with your cum. Seeing him struck a cord, arousal already pooling in your core again, thighs clenching shut to release some of the burden.

“I want to hear you say it,” he drawled, fingers bunching your skirts up above your ass. 

“Say what?” He only smirked, one of his hands leaving your hips to undo his belt.

“You know what I want you to say.” You froze as he pulled out his dick, precum beaded at the tip of his head. When you didn’t respond, eyes glued to his length, his hand wrapped around your neck. He squeezed gently, your gaze flitting up to his. “Say it, little priestess.” You felt him press up against you, suppressing a whimper as he smeared your cum along his shaft.

“I-you know how to worship,” you whispered, hands gripping his shirt. “Gods you know how to worship, Azriel, I-fuck.” He slid into you, bottoming out within less than a second. A soft moan left his lips, his forehead falling against yours, fingers digging into the plush skin of your neck.

“Fuck you’re so tight,” he groaned as he snapped his hips back into you. “You’re the only altar I will ever worship at, priestess.”

You were already fucked out but gods, his words emptied your mind completely. His dick was hitting you in all the right places, his hips never faltering as his pace quickened, bringing you straight to your release. 

“Gods Azriel,” You whimpered, obscene moans and sobs wracking your body as pulse after pulse of ecstasy brought you to the skies.

“Say my name again.” You obliged, his name falling from your lips again and again until he was faltering. One deep thrust in and he was flying. He sunk his teeth into your shoulder as he pulsed inside of you. Sweat-slicked skin, heavy breathing–Azriel was the first to move, pulling out of you before placing two hands on your cheeks and pulling you into a candied kiss. When he withdrew he lifted you into his arms, placing his lips on your forehead in a quick peck.

“Let’s get cleaned up, little priestess.” You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Softly, you mumbled out your thanks to the gods. Azriel only chuckled as he winnowed the both of you to his bath where hot water was already flowing out of the faucet to greet you.

#acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #fanfic #fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #acotar imagine #smut #acotar smut #azriel smut

[7ndipity]

Dating Namjoon headcanons

Warnings: swearing, suggestive, teeny bit of angst

A/N: I realized that I hadn't written anything for Joon in a hot minute, so let's change that, shall we?

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Dating Namjoon feels like one of those early 2000s romance movies.

Utterly frustrating but soo worth it.

He talks a lot of hype in his songs, but I think when he first meets someone he's really into, he's a fucking mess.

Like it's Joon, but it's Joon, you know what I mean?

Red ears, stumbling over his words(and feet), getting flustered every other sentence.

Probably walked into a wall while distracted talking to you.

Don't get me wrong tho, once he gets the butterflies to chill and gets comfortable, the rizz is BACK and in full force.

Big on eye contact

Stares at you with absolute heart eyes(if you've seen that clip of him watching Hobi from Bon Voyage, you know what I'm talking about)

But can flip the switch in the blink of an eye, and be looking at you like he's gonna eat you alive(we love a duality king)

Simp Romantic. Will randomly bring you flowers just cause he was thinking about you(but he's always thinking about you, so why was today any different?)

Writes soo many songs/lyrics about you, but rarely tells you about them directly. He just asks if you wanna hear something he's been working on, and then sits back and watches your faves as you catch the hidden meanings and references. At the end, he's just sitting there, grinning, asking "You like it?"

(Like, yes, I like it you fucking dork!)

Always remember important dates like birthdays and anniversaries( first date, first kiss, everything)

Museum and bookstore dates are a given.

Buying/sharing books with you is probably one his favorite forms of intellectual intimacy, because, for him, each one is a glimpse into your mind.

If you mention one of your favorite titles and he hasn't read it, he's gonna find it asap.

Would try to get you to workout with him and be gym buddies.(I don't know if I like or hate that idea tho?)

Random texts at 1am asking if you're up and wanna hang out?(may or may not be outside your place already, cause he's over-eager and forgot to text earlier)

Endless, late night talks about everything from music to the meaning of life to what jelly bean flavor is superior(it's watermelon)

Also random trips together. Could be to the beach, could be to Sweden, who knows? You bring out his spontaneity and are one of the only people who can get him to take a vacation anyway.

He is a workaholic though, so you have to look out for him sometimes, make sure he eats, sleeps, touches grass, etc.

You probably bicker and butt heads a lot, but y'all make sure it never gets out of hand and try to find a solution.

(Lowkey possessive, but won't admit it)

Not a fan of pda, but he *clings*.

He tries to be subtle about it, but fails because it's like there's a gravitational pull between the two of you from the way he's constantly within arm's reach wherever you are.

Same goes for when you're alone. He's not technically cuddling you, but he always somehow ends up pressed to your side or back, or has a hand on you in some way.

Another member of the 'Protective Squad'. Like, if anyone so much as looks in your direction the wrong way, he's got the death glare locked on them.

Pretty classic when it comes to nicknames for you. Things like 'honey', 'baby', 'jagi'. Adds 'my' in front of any of them when he's in the mood to fluster you.

Which reminds me, he is the BIGGEST FUCKING TEASE ISTG.

He knows exactly what riles you up, and then just gives you these soft, sweet little kisses like you're not about to combust. Has the nerve to then smirk and call you needy(I wanna fight him)

Finds the most random things you do attractive. The way you read. The way you make your coffee. The weird little face you make when your flipping through Netflix.

Although he seems a bit cautious, I actually think a relationship with him might move pretty fast. Like, he's fighting back from asking you to move in with him after five or six months type of fast.

Lives for domesticity with you.

Quiet, sleepy mornings together. Messy hair and glasses over tired eyes, resting against your shoulder as he brings you coffee while you cook breakfast.

I know he said he's not sure abt kids anymore, but I do see him possibly getting a pet with you to 'round out the household'. Something quiet and low maintenance though, like a couple hermit crabs.(would probably name one after a favorite artist/author and then name the other smth random like 'blue')

Again, I don't know how to end these. Just love him, please.

#namjoon scenario #namjoon fluff #namjoon #namjoon scenarios #namjoon headcanons #namjoon x y/n #namjoon x reader #bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts reaction #bts reactions #bts headcanons #bts x y/n #bts x reader #7ndipity

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

A Perfect Score - Chapter 4 - Thin Ice | FigureSkating!AU

Summary: Moving on to Casterly Rock for the next round of the tour, Aemond has some explaining to do | Word Count: 7.4k~ | Warnings under the cut~

Series Masterlist | Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: Aemond being a general raging dickhead, classism, sexual tension 😘, swearing, heavy petting

A/N: I feel like apologising for long chapters is beyond me at this point. But ohohoho we getting into itttt~

Comments, reblogs & likes are always appreciated in this household. I love u 😚

It turned out that alone, never really meant alone.

Alone in the sense that Aemond and yourself would be carted around by the various staff at Hightower Management, put into various hotels and expected to keep up with training, without the keen eyes of Otto nor Alicent watching over either of you.

Part of you was excited about the notion of a tour. But the more dominant part was immensely nervous. Without Helaena or Aegon to take the edge of Aemond’s personality, it might be silent torture or it might be entirely indifferent, as you and Aemond had been throughout the match and after-party well over a week ago and, as well as the time in between.

It was sort of routine now, the way you both trained. Only speaking to one another if you had to.

Even then, he did seem a little chattier. But it was a miniscule difference.

He’d not said a thing about his ex-dinosaur-girlfriend (as Helaena so carefully put it) being at the after-party. Not like he would say anything to you anyway, but still, what was that all about?

Helaena had told you as much as she could really, given all she knew being on the outside. Alys was twenty years Aemond’s senior, now in her mid-forties you surmise from the timeline. Besides grossing you out mildly, Helaena had bestowed her knowledge that as soon as Alicent found out about the supposed relationship, it was immediately put to an end.

Enter. The pregnancy scandal. Alys had approached Otto in a very business-like manner, breaking the news she was pregnant and that it had been Aemond’s, despite the timing of it clearly not matching up. Alicent was absolutely beside herself, which knowing her now you’re not sure if you could picture it, and insisted that it was entirely not true and that Alys had just wanted money.

Aemond’s or not, she was paid a handsome sum to keep quiet. And in the end? It turned out she wasn’t pregnant in the first place.

“I wouldn’t have told you if you hadn’t seen her at the party, as it’s not really my story to tell”, Helaena had said.

It left a bad taste in your mouth when she finished explaining. If that was all true, why the hell would she turn up to the after-party with the necklace Aemond had gifted her all those years ago? Why would she even get involved with a man twenty years her junior? It reeked somewhat of grooming, etching a permanent frown into your features at the memory of Aemond at the party, his shoulders rolled forwards, looking down and shrinking in her presence.

He looked so small then.

That’s all you could think about as you both sat in the back seats of the car driven by a man called Arryk Cargyll, who would be transporting and looking after you both since Criston was attending to Helaena and Aegon on the other side of the tour. He was significantly chattier and less stone-faced than Criston, which you chalked up to him being probably younger.

But even then, he barely spoke a word the entire way to your first stop of the tour. Casterly Rock, hosted by Jason and Johanna Lannister, representing the Westerlands.

At least the hotel was nice. You and Aemond had separate rooms next to one another. And aside from the odd light switch and the hum of the shower, he didn't make himself known.

Even now, as you sat on the bed, clad in black sweatpants and a sports bra, having visited the hotel gym, you listened to the shower through the walls in the quietness of the late evening. Staring off into space. The intrusive thought of Aemond showering briefly zipping through your brain and not at all imagining-

Incoming Video Call from El 🦌

Thank the gods for that.

You swipe the screen, greeted with the smiling face of Ellyn sat on what used to be your shared sofa.

"There's my hoe" she lovingly calls, stuffing a crisp into her mouth.

You hum a laugh, "Charming El" you smile, moving to lay on your front so you can prop the phone up, "What's the occasion? Do you miss me that much?"

She rolls her eyes, "Fuck off. I always miss you" she smiles brightly, "Forgive me for wanting to check in on my amazingly successful figure skating queen"

"Amazingly successful, huh?" You joke, "High praise coming from Floris' sister. How is she by the way?"

"She's fine. Getting discharged soon they think, she messed it up pretty bad" Ellyn shrugs, "hey, you might see Maris when you're out there"

"I'll give her a big sloppy kiss for you" you smirk.

Ellyn pulls a face, "Don't do that she'll punch you in the face"

You laugh. She absolutely would as well. The Four Storms indeed.

"I saw your Instagram pictures. You look fit" she says with a mouth full of crisps, "Anyway, who you dressed up for in there?"

You look down at your outfit, furrowing your brows, "A sports bra?" You joke, "Hardly dressed up, El"

She smirks, "How are things with Aemond?"

"Oh for fucks sake…" you roll your eyes, hearing her cackle through the phone, "Well, we didn't start the greatest"

"Tough crowd?"

"He may have insinauted I wouldn't handle it because I wasn't from any notable house"

Her mouth drops open.

"Death. He deserves death"

You laugh loudly, covering your mouth, "El!"

"Did you put him in his place?"

"Tried to!"

"I bet he went real quiet after you showed him up at that match!"

You smile at her, "Oh you watched that?"

"Course I did!" She returns, "not fair you looking like a snack on the ice like that. You could tell you didn't like each other though"

Ooft. "Yeah…" you trail off, "...it's a work in progress"

"I take it you haven't smashed yet then?"

"El!"

"What!" She shouts back, making the phone crackle due to her volume, "Just cos he's a dick doesn't mean he's unfuckable"

El, you're making it really hard to deny it right now by confirming my exact thought process.

You sigh, "I'm not fucking him, El. He hates me"

"Do you hate him?"

You bite your lip, "I tolerate"

"Fucking liar" she sneers, "anyway I gotta go, I'll watch your next match. Slay all day, love you!"

You sigh, dropping your phone, listening as the hum of his shower stops, and the bedroom light switch clicks against the wall.

How did you end this conversation thinking about Aemond having a shower more?!

Stop that. Bad girl.

You could hear him plug in what you assumed was a phone charger into the wall, something akin to bed slats cracking a second later with the weight of him slipping into bed.

His bed was right next to the wall, the same as yours.

You tapped your phone anxiously, biting your lip as if something were on your mind.

But you didn't have the heart to even tell yourself what you were thinking about.

Or rather who.

The bitterness of hotel coffee never fails to make you wince as you sit in the fancy hotel foyer, dressed in your usual all black sportswear while the space around you looks indicative of a Greek palace, all cream and decorated with keen detail.

Casterly Rock is unnaturally hot right now, so all you’re able to manage is a sports bra and a thin crop top on your torso, with of course, leggings on your bottom. Your foot taps impatiently, waiting for Aemond to come out of his room so Arryk can drive you to the ice rink for morning practice, raising an eyebrow when you look at the clock on the wall and see it’s already 6am.

He’s never usually late.

Arryk walks towards you with an unnatural spring in his step to say how early in the morning it is, smiling beneath his facial hair, looking entirely put together in the suit he wears. Does he wear that everyday?

“Aemond will be a while yet, shall I get you to the rink first so you don’t lose out on practice?”

You nod, downing the rest of the coffee to give you some semblance of life, standing up to follow him, “Sure, thank you”

You follow him to the car, sliding into the passenger seat, rubbing your eyes.

“Is he alright?” you ask, as Arryk pulls his seatbelt on.

He nods, putting the car into gear and setting off, “He’ll be alright. Just a small headache. The eye sometimes gives him some bother”

You drive in silence for a bit, the roads mostly clear from how early it still is.

“Have you been with them long? Working for them I mean?” you ask, trying to fill the silence with something.

“A while. I joined after Aemond’s accident”

You swallow.

The accident.

Sensing your silence, Arryk looks over briefly, “You don’t know?”

You shrug, shaking your head, “I figured if he wanted to tell me he would”

Arryk nodded and turned away again, clearing his throat with his eyes back on the road. He didn’t say anything else until you arrived at the ice rink, obviously not wanting to let slip any sensitive information that Aemond wouldn’t have wanted to share. But it was clear he knew.

It felt like everyone around you knew some kind of secret, and you were purposefully being kept on the outside, but just within reach.

This ice rink was by no means large and you’re thankful at least that it’s empty, so that you can do the pre-practice stretches in relative peace. You just stick your airpods in and play whatever you have on shuffle, using the free time Aemond isn’t here to start on the ice.

It’s nice every once in a while since starting training with Aemond, to have everything to yourself, music in your ears, hair down, the breeze of the air conditioning through your locks. Sometimes you find yourself just gliding, eyes closed and inhaling slowly and purposefully through your nose, letting the smells around you fill your senses.

After doing countless laps and trying certain jumps you know you’d be doing with Aemond later, you look at the clock. 45 minutes have passed and still no sign of Aemond.

Feeling entirely too hot from the exertion of practising, you huff and tug the shirt you’re wearing off, leaving yourself in only the sports bra.

Modesty be damned, I’m too fucking hot for this.

Tugging it over your head, adjusting the sports bra underneath, you don’t even register the double doors opening with the airpods blasting in your ears. It’s only when the flash of white hair passes as you slide along the ice, that you nearly jump out of your skin.

“Fucking hell” you mutter quietly, pulling out your airpods quickly.

Aemond shucks his bag onto the floor, not making eye contact as he slips onto the bench with his skates in his hands. He looks more irritable than usual, dropping his skates with a sort of carelessness you wouldn’t usually associate with him.

You watch his face, tense and irritated, looking down as he ties them, his eyebrows drawn together.

Skating up to the edge, you bite your lip, wondering if you should say anything at all. Would it just make him more difficult? Would he just stay quiet?

“Are you okay?” you ask, coming out more weakly than intended.

“Yes” he answers harshly, unconvincing, “Fine, clearly”

Woah, okay.

You lean over the edge on your elbows, watching as he fails to tie his skates the first time, cursing to himself at having to do it again, irritably looping them once more.

“Arryk said you had a headache”

Sighing once he’s double tied his laces, he leans on his knees, finally looking up at you, his whole body tense and rigid. He doesn’t say a thing. He just stares, as if he’s shocked you had the audacity to even talk to him, his glass eye reflected in the sharp blue tone of the lights.

It's like all the air has been sucked out the room. And the world only has you two left in it. The way he stares makes you both uncomfortable and breathless at the same time.

And you're unsure if you think it's a good thing.

A glimpse of what he acted like when you first met is there, watching the way his grip is tight, his forearms taut and shoulders hunched.

He opens his mouth, but you beat him to it.

“I have some ibuprofen…if you want it”

His mouth closes instantly. And his brow softens somewhat, although not unwinding entirely. His gaze falls to the floor for a moment, and he nods, looking completely resigned, much like he did on the night he talked to Alys Rivers.

Like a child in pain.

Hopping off the ice, you rifle through your bag that’s seated next to him, eventually extending the pills to him. He moves his head, his good eye starting at your legs and running over the entirety of you, before looking at your eyes. It makes you go all warm, watching the way he pauses at your middle, where the slightest bit of skin shows beneath the sports bra.

“Thanks” he says quietly, taking the pills from you and popping some out the foil. His fingers graze yours only slightly, and you press your lips together, turning away from him quickly to get back on the ice.

Your chest feels all hot and tight. Must be the hotel breakfast. That bacon did taste funny.

Something inside tightens as you turn to watch him swallow some water, watching the muscles of his neck. And then his large hands palm at his hair, pulling it to the back to tie it haphazardly, with no real care as several strands fall out from his grasp.

Why is that kind of hot.

What is wrong with me.

This is Aemond we’re talking about.

Despite knowing that there is no way those pills have kicked in yet, he tugs at his shirt as he gets out on the ice. He has one hand occupied with his phone as he meets you in the middle.

“Fuck. Speaker’s not working” he murmurs, fumbling with the settings on his phone.

“Oh”

You move from right leg to left leg, anxiously. Pulling at the fabric of your leggings while you think of a solution.

“We could uh…use my airpods” you respond, pulling the case out, “one each?”

He only moves his eye to meet you, his mouth wrinkled down in disgust. For some reason it makes you laugh.

“Oh come on, they’re not dirty” you smile, handing him one, “business partners, right?” you say, sticking the left one in your own ear.

Not friends.

Business partners.

He sighs, reluctantly sticking the right one in. You put the music you’ll be performing in a few days on repeat, sticking the phone into your sports bra in lieu of pockets.

“Give it to me” Aemond says, one hand limply extended.

“What?”

He looks at you, “Your phone” he adds, “I have pockets”

You pull an awkward face, swallowing thickly.

For some reason retrieving the phone from the sports bra feels weirder than putting it there, especially when you hand it to him and he presses it against his thigh to stuff into his zip pocket. God his hands are so massive now when compared to the size of the phone.

Stop. That.

Oh gods, was I sweaty. That’s so gross if I was.

He luckily doesn’t comment on anything like that. A small mercy.

You practise one. Two. Three times. The clock ticks by quickly as you're both immersed in training. Trying various parts of the routines, as well as a particularly difficult new jump, one that at first you have some trouble with.

Aemond throws you in the air and you have to spin three times, timing it perfectly so that your front is against his in time for him to push you back for the exit, hands joined.

It’s had…questionable results so far.

Misjudging how quickly you need to spin in the air, your feet aren’t in the right position and you fall chest to chest with Aemond, his arms reaching around you to make sure you don’t slip.

“Shit!” you whisper, annoyed at yourself, “Sorry”

You hate that when he catches you, his grip on your bare arms, that you can’t help but blush, every hair standing on end. Especially when he looks down at you, hoisting you up back on your skates once you’re balanced, “You okay?”

Completely too annoyed at yourself to care right now about the proximity, you shake your head, “Can’t hack that one”

Aemond bites his cheek, “Let’s try a double spin first then”

Realising you’re still very close, you skate back, clearing your throat, “You sure?..”

He shrugs, “We can work up to the triple if we want, but as long as we do a throw, still counts”

You nod, tucking your hair behind your ears, “Sure..”

If there is something you’ve noticed since you met and began working with Aemond, it’s that his style of skating, much like Helaena’s and Aegon’s, is very technical. Calculated. Overly-thought out.

Much like ballet, figure skating is as much about performance and emotion, than technical ability. Unfortunately for Aemond.

He’s so pragmatic about his approach that there’s barely room for any real emotion in his performance. He’s always straight-faced, tight-lipped. So much so, you wonder if he actually enjoys any of it.

As much as you hate to admit it, he was right. Starting with the double was an easier approach, and it came more naturally. So when you did several attempts after the triple, tucking your arms in on yourself for the spin, the last few were landed, making your insides swell with pride. Eventually, you look at the clock and wince at the time, so both of you take a break for a much needed drink.

After having crossed the technical bridge, time for the emotional one you suppose? No harm in asking, right?

“Can I ask you something?” you ask quietly, leaning backwards against the ledge, arms rested on it.

Aemond’s eye finds you mid-sip of his water bottle, and he licks his lips, his weight on one leg, wordlessly urging you to continue.

You swallow, wondering how best to word it, “Do you enjoy it?”

“Enjoy what?”

Isn’t it obvious?

Your eyes zip around briefly, “This? Figure skating?”

He’s quiet for a long moment. Answering your question without needing words.

“I enjoy it enough”

Enough.

Aemond is so guarded. Even now, he holds his arms over his chest, protecting his heart. Silence stretches between you at his answer, as unconvincing as it was, you nod your head with eyebrows raised, not wanting to say anything more that might dampen the mood on your training for today.

Being around him is like stepping around a sleeping dragon. One brush against it, however soft it would be, it’d wake in a sort of angered panic, assuming danger.

That is how you would describe him. Whatever you said or did, it’d be interpreted as an attack.

“You don’t believe me” he responded after some time.

As much as you feel you dislike him, you can’t lie to him, so you shrug, “Not really”

He narrows his eyes, “Why”

Fucking hell. Here we go. Now I’ve done it.

You sigh, already feeling an argument brewing where you hadn’t intended, “I think it’s no secret that when you perform you look like you’d rather be anywhere else” you say, shifting about on your skates, stretching your arms anxiously, “Unless you’re just like that with me” you add, under your breath.

He rolls his eye somewhat, humming. In neither acceptance nor denial.

Was that a yes? No?

“I just think if we’re going to stand a chance in these Championships we should at least make the effort with performance. For the scores” you nod to him, “That’s all I’m saying”

Aemond scoffs, “Oh, so you think you’re giving me advice now?”

Oh there’s the sleeping dragon.

Your head retracts, shocked by the sudden sass. Maybe the ibuprofen has kicked in, “We’re skating partners, aren’t we? You don’t value my good opinion, seeing as, shockingly, I existed as a skater before I met you?”

He shakes his head, as if amused, “Just find it funny”

You bite your lip, now visibly annoyed. Your skin blooms in frustration. Not this shit again. No fucking way.

“Funny in the sense that you still think that just because I’m of no notable house, not so far up my own ass I can’t see the sun and not such a nepo-baby that-”

“I fucking told you not to call me that” he snaps, his eye now serious, his stance too as he pushes off the ledge to stand before you.

You shrug, “Is that not what you are?” you challenge, “Your brother and sister get to represent the Reach just because your mother is from Oldtown, and you make it to the Championships every time despite not being able to show a slither of emotion on your face-”

“It’s because I’m fucking good at it” he counters, “Emotions has nothing to do with it”

“Doesn’t it? You can be good at it, but you don’t fucking like it”

He goes all quiet, his fist clenched at his side, shaking.

“It’s as clear to the judges as it is to anyone, you don’t enjoy it. I don’t doubt you probably did at some point”

He swallows, as if preparing himself for what he’s about to say.

“And because you’re so perfect?”

“Didn’t say I was-”

“Yeah, that’s because you’re not” he interrupts, making you go quiet and still, “Don’t you dare try to act all high and mighty to me. My family is well-established and good at it. There doesn’t need to be a deep and meaningful reason why I do it. I don’t need to dig deep to find any semblance of purpose in my life, unlike your shitty one. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t let the likes of your class skate at all-”

Aemond stops his chaotic ramble when he finally turns to look at you, seeing the horrified and tearful expression on your face after you’d heard him say it in his fit of rage. His face drops instantly, replaying what he’d said. It didn’t seem like him at all, to go on such a rampage of horrible words.

It felt like someone was speaking through him. Like he was a puppet on a string, performing the actions of others.

But he had said it nonetheless.

You laugh weakly, feeling your insides twist painfully.

“My class, huh?...” you repeat, shoving the knife inside him deeper. The word seems to make him shudder now, despite him being the one who said it.

If you didn’t laugh you’d cry. So you did just that.

“Well, I’m sorry you feel so disgusted to have people of my class doing your sport” you respond, skating backwards away from him.

With tears covering your vision, making the ice look like one big blob of white, all you manage is, “Fuck you, Aemond”

You hear his voice, once, twice, calling your name. The last time is exasperated, carried with a sigh once he realises that you’re too angry right now to even hear him. It all happens so quick you don’t have time to think, the way you pull your skates off without untying them first, hurtling your bag over your shoulder and pushing the doors open so hard they bang against the wall, filling the empty sounding room with an echoed slam.

You don’t look back at him. He doesn’t fucking deserve it.

You don’t even text Arryk to come pick you up. You just walk, legs carrying you as quickly as you’re able, one in front of the other and counting up and down in your head in an effort to calm yourself down. The air was hot and oppressive around you, closing in, making you feel even smaller than Aemond had just a few minutes before.

No tears. Don’t cry. He doesn’t deserve them.

He doesn’t deserve them.

If it were up to me, I wouldn’t let the likes of your class skate at all.

The replay of the words breaks you and you hurl your bag at the closest wall, but it does nothing to expel the annoyance and frustration you feel inside. The skates inside the bag make it so heavy that it falls to the floor with a thud. You stand there watching, breathing heavily in the air of the early afternoon.

For a small, brief flicker of a moment, you regret throwing your bag with the skates inside. Knowing that it was Rhaenys who gifted you them, and that an argument with Aemond didn’t excuse treating such nice things in that way. All the emotions you have kept back are still there, sitting behind your eyes.

Not in public.

So with a resigned sigh, you pick the bag up and walk the fifteen minutes it takes to get back to the hotel, hoping and praying to every god there is that Arryk or Aemond doesn’t see you on the way back in the car.

The hotel is luckily air conditioned. You can't tell if you're hot because it genuinely is hot, or if you're just so angry you might literally be steaming.

So intent on making a beeline to your hotel room, you nearly collide fully with a familiar brunette.

"Shit! Sorry, I wasn't look-Johanna!" You sigh, red-faced, looking right into her deep brown eyes, that are crinkled up with a smile.

"Gods, you look…hot, and not in the good way" she remarks, her eyes looking over you. You can't help but look at her outfit, all a lovely golden colour that suits her in its entirety.

Instinctively, you wipe your neck, embarrassed at how you must look.

"Yeah, I uh, just came back from training"

She looks around, "Where's your partner? Aemond"

"Oh, uh, he decided to hang back" you lie with a smile, hoping it lands. But her smile indicates that she knows it's not entirely true.

Her deep brown eyes look over your expression, her lips tightening into a reassuring line that’s akin to a smile, “I get it, you know” she says, to which you cock your head, “Not being on good terms with your skating partner”

She sees the way your eyes go wide, and your mouth opens to contradict, “Save it. It’s obvious”

Fuck. Is it really that obvious?

“If it were up to Jason, he’d have stopped competing ages ago” she muses, eyes flickering to the floor every once in a while, tugging her jacket around her tighter, “It’s me who’s the competitive one”

“But you two skate so well together?” you ask, confused. They’d always been very good skaters together, only spurred on by the fact that they were married.

Johanna laughs, “I’m not stupid. I know Jason’s fucking around on me” she admits without a hint of weakness in her tone, “It’s the least I can do to get back at him, forcing him to compete with me”

Part of you feels sad for her that she knows he’s cheating, but can do nothing about it. But you can’t help the mischievous smile on your face at her so-called ‘revenge’. You’re at least grateful that the person you’ll be up against tomorrow isn’t so hell-bent on winning that she’s outright mean to you.

After a moment, she taps your shoulder, “It’ll be alright. Show him what you’re made of”

You blink, still smiling from her quip before. Even when she leaves the foyer, you stay planted on the spot, bag digging into your shoulder from its heavy contents, feeling the familiar heaviness in your stomach as well.

Show him what I’m made of?

I tried that already. And it still wasn’t enough.

If there’s anything to be grateful for, it’s that Aemond isn’t back at the hotel yet.

But it is only in the sweet relief of silence in your hotel room that you realise…

Great. He still has my phone.

It doesn’t take long for you to really wallow in self-destructive feelings. Stipped down to your baggy clothes, sat in bed, flicking through the terrible hotel channels that are just not doing it for you, and picking at several crisps and popping them into your mouth.

Knock Knock.

It almost makes you jump out of your skin, however soft the knock was.

Your jaw clenches when Aemond’s voice calls your name, staring at the door as if looking right through it.

He sighs, his voice muffled, “Come on, I know you’re in there” he says quietly. You can hear him shuffle from foot to foot. You can imagine him, standing there, with his hands stuffed into his pockets, his leg shaking while he turns his thoughts over in his head.

He sighs again.

"Please"

Part of you wants to smile at the way he says it. Like it's hurting every little bit of him inside to even consider apologising. But the thought of the smile never really comes to a full one on your face, and your lips continue to turn down into a frown, watching his shadow moving side to side underneath the crack of the door.

You didn’t move an inch. You just watched as he stayed for longer than you thought he would.

The shadow moved, and your phone slid face down under the door, before his footsteps were muffled and far away down the hall. You heard his hotel room door close softly, the light switch clicked against the wall, and the bed slats once again creaked louder as he flopped down on it.

Knowing he is right there, on the opposite side of the wall, no longer gives you that fluttering feeling. It makes you feel somewhat uncomfortable that he’s so close without seeing him. Restless.

Padding over to the door to retrieve your phone. Several messages line the home screen, obscuring the view of your background, you and Ellyn at the ice rink for Christmas and her falling into your arms, not being quite as adept at the skill as her sisters. It never fails to make you smile.

Rhaenys - Manager: 3 unread messages

El 🦌 - 1 unread message

Unknown number - 5 new messages

You cock your head somewhat at the unknown number. And with 5 new texts from it too.

Swiping open your phone, you're met with the absolute essay of the text from the unknown number.

Fuck that, I'm not reading it without a drink in my hand.

So you sit on the bed, a can of gin and tonic in one hand, scrolling through the long text.

At first it doesn't really make sense.

You raise an eyebrow. Reading on.

You swallow, reading all of the words.

You hate that you laugh at that last bit. You can imagine him pacing around, seeing the unread texts he'd sent and hitting himself realising your phone had been in his pocket the whole time.

Something squeezes tight in your chest, reading all of it over one more time.

Aemond hadn't apologised. Not specifically anyway.

I didn't mean any of it.

You sigh, tipping your head back against the headboard with a light thud, staring up at the ceiling of the hotel.

It's late. The match against the Lannisters is tomorrow.

Do you forgive him?

It felt wrong to forgive him for what he'd said, especially after all the times he'd been rude to you before.

Forgiveness would imply that he'd apologised, which he hadn't. You felt like you at least deserved that. And if he couldn't give that to you…

You save his number under ⛸️. Not having the energy to write his name right now.

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, your leg moving erratically. Thinking of what to say back.

Be civil. But not too nice. Otherwise he might think it's all good.

You didn't want him to think that.

So you settled for something simple. Something indifferent.

Being in the dressing room without Alicent to fuss over your skates compared to now, sitting in front of the vanity, alone, with your hands clenched tight in front of you, it makes the loneliness tug at your heart. Sitting heavily in your chest.

You should feel pretty. Your outfit is a standard leotard with mesh detailing at the collar, short sleeves, little rhinestones dotted on the skirt to catch the light. The fabric was white, similar to the one you wore at the first match, but not exactly the same, and you can imagine what it would look like when you were skating, capturing the glimmer of the lights and cutting through the air like a whisper.

You’d done your hair yourself, half up half down. With a silver ornament at the back to keep it secure. The pieces that were pulled at the front were waved to the best of your ability, hair sprayed within an inch of their life to stay that way. Your makeup was the same, a barely-there approach, as it was all you were comfortable with.

But you didn’t feel pretty.

Aemond hadn’t replied after what you’d said the night before. You watched as the three bubbles appeared and disappeared a few times, but in the end it was clear he was intent to leave you to your thoughts and give some semblance of space. Since he said himself, he knew he’d fucked up.

You weren’t sure if you were relieved or not that he didn’t reply. All you could think about right now was the match, the move you had practised the day before, and how you were going to best execute it.

“Triple spin in the air, land on the right leg…” you mumbled, tracing the steps of the routine in your head.

The door to your dressing room swung open and your eyes locked eyes with Aemond’s in the mirror. Your heart lurched into your throat seeing him, after what had happened in the last 24 hours, with your partnership potentially hanging by a thread. Your cheeks grew hot with embarrassment, sensing that you really didn’t know what to say.

He briefly met the gaze before looking down, closing the door behind him and leaning against it. His hair, as opposed to last time, was in a loose bun, straight strands framing his chiselled face.

“We’re on in 10” he said simply, his left leg twitching in barely-contained anxiety. He bit his lip harshly, something akin to irritation gnawing on his insides.

Anxiety you knew didn’t come from performing the routine itself.

He was afraid of what you would do. Or what you would say.

Swinging your legs off the chair, you pull one of your feet up to the cushion, making sure the laces are well tied and in their place, your eyes trained solely on them and not on him, who was still standing by the door, as if guarding it.

“Look, I-”

“I’m fine, Aemond” you interrupt him, lacing the other one, “Let’s just get this over with please”

Aemond looked as if he’d been slapped. Like he did that night when he’d spoken to Alys Rivers.

“I didn’t mean any of it” he continues, despite what you’d said. When you look at him now, standing up on your skates, he chews on his lip, taking his time to make himself look at you. His eye rakes over your outfit for this routine, leg still bouncing, “You look nice, by the way”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, “Will you stop saying that like we’re friends, Aemond” you snap, “Just business partners, right?”

Aemond sighs, “Will you stop twisting anything I say into an insult about you?”

“So, is that what that was yesterday? Me twisting your words?” you look at him incredulously, daring him to deny it.

“No-fuck-I didn’t say that” he barks back, his volume increasing, clearly struggling to string together the right words he wants, “What I meant was-”

You shake your head, having had enough, “Just leave it, Aemond. I don’t need to hear it, from you in particular. Can you move please?”

He stays stock still against the door, blocking your path, even stepping forward as a means to say he is most certainly not finished. For a brief second, panic flits through you, not quite remembering how tall and broad he is compared to you.

“What I said yesterday was wrong-”

“You’re fucking right, it was wrong!” you bark back this time, stunning him into silence. He wears a stoic look, his chest rising and falling steadily.

“Do you know how hard I worked to get where I am today, despite my class as you so nicely pointed out. If it really offends you so fucking much to be paired with me, then why agree to it in the first place if you’re just going to bitch and whine about it all the damn time!”

“I-”

“No! I deserve to fucking be here, Aemond, just as much as you. I don’t know if I will ever be good enough in your opinion, but I am slowly realising that I don’t care about that. If you don’t think I am good enough to be associated with you or your prestigious family, I am totally fine with th-”

“You are good enough” he says flatly, his eye twitching somewhat as his muscles tense up, “Better than most, in fact”

You scoff, not affected by it now. No way.

“Well, you have a funny fucking way of showing i-”

You didn’t realise it at the time, how close Aemond had really stepped towards you, so embroiled in the argument with him that it didn’t seem to matter. His stance, his attitude, didn’t make you flounder.

But what did make you stiffen up and go hot all over was when Aemond’s hand made its way around your waist to pull you close to him, and his other hand cupped the back of your neck to tug your face flush to his, silencing you with his lips on yours. 

His fingers curled over your skin in a desperate hold, the one around your waist feeling like it was burning a brand right through your outfit. Your hands braced on his chest in shock of what he’d done, fingertips barely touching the skin above his black shirt, so much so you swear you’re able to feel the thrum of his rapid heartbeat.

Just as quickly, he pulls back, his cheeks flushed near-undetectably and his mouth open to breathe, with soft pants coming from his plush pink lips. Your wide eyes flit over his own, from one to the other, to gauge a reaction, despite him being the one who had kissed you. The sapphire glistens in the somewhat low and harsh light of the dressing room and his good eye doesn’t nearly look as blue, but almost so dark from how wide his pupil is dilated, that it’s completely black.

Neither of you wait to see what the other has to say, now that a line has been crossed, it cannot be uncrossed. 

It’s unclear who moves first, but all you know is that you’re kissing again, your hands on his shoulders, his own tightening impossibly around you. You feel the weight of every movement behind his lips, tilting his head to gain better access to your hot and waiting mouth as he slips his tongue against yours, sending off each individual kiss with a wet click. It’s a mess, your teeth knock near-painfully against one another, tongues fighting an ever-losing battle.

Aemond moans low in his throat, almost inaudible as he savours the taste of your mouth, his lips anchoring yours open the entire time. With his weight falling forwards, your backside meets the harsh edge of the vanity, making you wince a gasp quietly into his mouth. It only serves to spur him on, his hands fall to your hips, squeezing the flesh beneath the outfit in his large palms, kneading it as if to commit the contours to memory. As if he thinks he may never get to do this again.

He moves like it’s instinctual, his hands falling to grasp at your buttocks, he growls, lifting them onto the vanity, his hold so tight there that it sends a gush of arousal straight to your centre, especially when Aemond leans forward once more to stand between your legs, his obvious erection slotting neatly against your clothed core. His hips move with the rhythm of your desperate kissing, chasing the friction against your flesh he so desires, and you can tell by the way his lips part against yours, a breathy moan slipping into your mouth.

"Fuck" he breathes quietly.

You moan back when he squeezes your waist tightly, his fingers digging in. Thank the gods, this isn’t a cutout dress, otherwise his fingerprints would be clearly visible in red, digit shaped marks for everyone to see. For some reason, that excites you, a dull buzz making its way up your spine as you increase your hold on his shoulders and then his neck, hanging desperately onto him as he pushes flush with you, his chest almost touching yours.

Aemond’s hand drops to your thigh, squeezing the skin in his fingers, his thumb making its way up until it grazes over your clothed heat. It’s like he knows exactly what to do to you, and his fingers tease your clit through your leotard, pressing softly and drawing a desperate breathy moan from your lips. Your hips move towards him, chasing the brief, softened contact he applies, core clenching around nothing-

“On the ice in 2!” someone says from behind the door.

 

Aemond immediately withdraws, cheeks now genuinely flushed against his pale skin. His wide eye continues to hold your gaze, searching your expression for a reaction to what the two of you just did. 

His throat bobs as he swallows and steps back, peeling his hands off you and adjusting his trousers to hide the tent that has formed, the size of it shamefully impressing you for a second. Your hands pull back slowly, slipping off the vanity on wobbly legs and smoothing the skirt back over yourself, briefly noticing the imprint of his hand marks on your bare thigh.

His hair somewhat dishevelled, he uses his hand to smooth it back down. He wets his lips, missing the door handle once before finally catching it, “See you out there..” he says shakily in a weak voice, before he disappears, leaving the door open.

Leaving you to comprehend this sensation that tugs in your stomach. Leaving you to remember the way he’d just kissed you, just touched you, like nobody had ever done before. Even the mere thought of it makes your chest erupt in pink and flutters settle in your core.

Aemond had just kissed you.

And you liked it.

Shit.

Taglist 1 (Bold means I could not tag!)

General Taglist: @blairfox04 | @hb8301 | @jamespotterismydaddy | @nenelysian | @natty2017 | @randomdragonfires | @risefallrise | @theoneeyedprince | @thelittleswanao3 | @tsujifreya | @urmomsgirlfriend1 | @valeskafics 

Aemond Taglist (1): @asp3nxx | @avidreader73 | @bellaisasleep ​ | @boofy1998 | @cathy1514 | @dahlias-and-marigolds | @fan-goddess | @gaeela-6

#aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #modern aemond #aemond targaryen modern au #modern!aemond targaryen x reader #modern!aemond x reader #modern!aemond targaryen #modern!aemond #modern!aemond x you #modern!aemond smut #modern!aemond fanfiction #modern!aemond fic #aemond fanfic #aemond smut #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fan fic #a perfect score #modern!hotd #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x oc #aemond angst #aemond stannies #aemond fic #aemond targaryen #modern aemond x you

[adventuringblind]

Celebratory Kissing?

Logan Sargeant X Reader X Oscar Piastri

Genre: Fluffy smut

Summary: Oscar gets his first win and celebratory activities ensue.

Warnings: dom/sub dynamics, switch Logan if you squint, subspace for reader and Logan (eventually), SOFT dom Oscar (a simp is what he is), oral (both receiving), fingers, unprotected sex (don't try this at home kids), Praise, oral fixation, marking/biting

Notes: Another request! haven't done a smut in a while. I might be a wee bit rusty...

Side note: I finished this mere hours after I had to put my dog down 😬

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

A sprint win is still a win. An argument she is determined to put to an end should Oscar tell her otherwise. This is an achievement and should be recognized as such.

Logan appears in front of her. His body absolutely gleaming with sweat and hair tussled from his helmet. "You look wrecked."

"The good kind I hope." She hands him the water she's holding, and he holds eye contact while trying to drink it. Only to fail miserably and dump it everywhere.

"It's about fifty-fifty. Half like Oscar just ruined you and the other half like you might be sick."

"Jokes on you, I probably am!"

She stares at the McLaren garage where Oscar has been swept off to. "Do you think he'll accept it as a win?"

"Maybe, I'm not sure yet." Logan crosses his arms and follows her gaze. "We could always convince him it's a win." He wiggles his eyebrows. The last part coming out quieter.

"But you two have to race tomorrow!"

"And I'm not suggesting anything crazy, I would like to be able to walk still. That doesn't mean we can't make it good."

She hums thoughtfully at the proposal. "He won't go for it."

"Trust me, he will." Logan takes his hand in hers and swings their arms back and forth. "We've been doing this for almost two years now. I think we can bring it out of him."

"Lo, I swear to god, if you get us in trouble, I will never let you hear the end of it."

~~~~~

She really shouldn't have been so shocked when Logan dragged her back to the hotel promising Oscar a 'surprise' for his victory. The Aussie had given them a questioning look, but just shrugged them off. A quick word about staying hydrated was thrown in there.

Now she's sitting on the edge of the bed, freshly showered and patiently waiting for Logan to tell her what his plan it. He's been digging through Oscar's luggage for the last five minutes mumbling about disorganization.

Finally, he pulls out the tightly wound coil of rope and makes a triumphant 'ah-ha' sound.

"You were looking for rope?"

"Yup!"

"And what are you going to do with said rope? Oscar is the only one with enough patience to manage any kind of Shabari-" Logan shuts her up by starting to tie the rope around her wrist.

"This okay?"

"It would be more okay if you told me what we were doing." She huffs in annoyance.

Logan rolls his eyes dramatically. "Figured I'd put you down first. Get you to that headspace that drives him feral."

She has to suppress the whine that threatens to leave her throat. "What about you?"

"One of us has to be coherent until he gets here. He can do what he wants after that. We just need him to see you first." Logan finishes the rope on her wrists, successfully securing them behind her back. "Not saying I'm not enticing, mind you. I just know how to put you down faster than the other way around."

Which - okay, Logan isn't wrong there. Oscar seems to hit the sweet spot with him where she can't. Not for a lack of trying, she just does not have the tone of voice that send her American partner over the edge. "Well played, Sargeant."

"I thought it was clever." She can't see him, still settled behind her. It doesn't matter. She knows he's smirking; can feel it in the open-mouthed kisses he's placing on her spine. It's ridiculous how much simple touch affects her.

"You slip so easily."

"Shut up."

It doesn't help that she's completely bare. Logan still has his sweats on, which only makes her feel vulnerable.

His hands trace the outline of her curves. They drag against the more sensitive areas with a nimble sort of ease. She lets out a happy sigh in response.

His teeth latch onto her shoulder. He bites and sucks a mark that will definitely be visible tomorrow. Logan's always had an oral fixation. Constantly chewing on the ends of his hoodie strings, chewing on pens and pencils, the sheer number of lollys in the house is ungodly. Oscar has used this to his advantage too many times to count. Zoom meeting at the number one offender.

Logan manages to bite all the way down her arm. He slips himself lower to get a better angle on her hips. Fingers bruise her thighs with an impossibly iron grip that he really doesn't need to have.

He attaches to her neck, spinning her around so face him. Logan slides his wet tongue from her throat to her lips. He shoves his tongue down her throat without warning. Successfully making it so she can't breathe; suffocated but only him. Only Logan and his stupidly nimble tongue exist in this moment.

He lets her breath again, only to push her backward onto the bed. Saliva drips all across her body as his tongue slides downwards.

Logan's is panting against her by the time he's finally in between her legs. "You're terribly wet, baby." He licks everywhere except where she needs him most. "Do you want my tongue? Are you going to be good for me while we wait for Osc?"

"I promise - please Lo, need you."

All sense of coherency leaves the second Logan's tongue starts lapping up her arousal. His hands grip her thigs to keep them spread apart.

Her hands would be in his hair if they could. instead, they grip the sheets underneath her. Anything to keep somewhat present. It doesn't work. Her mind is already swimming while the blonde moans into her core, teeth grazing her clit and driving her to the brink of insanity.

Her legs shake as his tongue slips in and out of her. She chokes out his name, on getting close to the point of no return.

He pulls away. Not fully, just enough to stop contact. Went tongue retreating through glistening lips.

IN the background, the sound of the door unlocking startles them both. Logan frantically strips the rest of his clothes in record time, helps her to the floor and manages to get them both into some kind of waiting position.

"I hope whatever you to are planning involves sleep at some point-" Oscar flicks the lights on and she can feel his eyes burning holes into them. "Please tell me you haven't been like this for the last hour?"

They shake their heads no as Oscar looks them over. He grabs Logan's chin and swipes his tongue across the American's bottom lip. "You taste like her. Tell me what you did."

"Got her ready for you."

"I can see that. She's staring at us with that look in her eyes." Oscar moves to her next, dropping Logan's chin and softly patting her cheek. She keens into his touch, aching for some kind of contact again. "Is this my surprise? A good night with two beautifully obedient partners?" His voice is soft with a hint of a condescending tone.

"Wanted to make sure you know that it's a win." There it is. He has Logan in the palm of his hand, whining and slurring his words.

Oscar looks like he might melt. "I think I've already won everything I need to. I have you two kneeling in front of me. That being said, you've got me worked up and it would be a shame not to take advantage of your wonderful surprise."

Oscar undoes the rope around her wrists and helps them up off their knees and onto the bed. "Nothing hard tonight. I'd hate for you to be sore tomorrow, Lo." He kisses them both. Hands gripping their chins and alternating who's mouth he's exploring.

It's heaven. The place with these two. The fuzzy, floaty feeling in her mind only registers them and their touches.

"You did good with her, Lo. Bet you're ready to go, yeah?"

It's the first time she's actually seen how hard the American is. Oscar strokes him a few times, slowly, thumb swiping away the pre-cum that had leaked out.

Oscar jams two fingers into her without warning. "Wow, you really did get her ready. Was this all your tongue baby?"

A third finger slips in. She's dripping liquid all the way down to his wrist. The pathetic whining sounds she's making are outrageous and should be embarrassing. She's to blissed out to care.

Oscar manhandles them to where he wants. Her body shudders as she accepts Logan's length, straddling over the top of him. "Come on, love. You want to make him feel good, yes?" She'd want to do anything Oscar tells her to, really, but she can't say as much.

Regardless, she rolls her hips and moans at the feeling. Logan's mouth goes slack, and Oscar takes the opportunity to slam his dick into Logan's mouth.

It doesn't take her horribly long to get close again. The skin on skin and roll of hips. The impatience of Logan as he tries to buck his hips upward in time with her.

"Osc, please." He crashes his lips onto hers and moans into her mouth.

He pulls away just a tiny bit and clasps a hand around her throat. "Go ahead, cum for be."

Logan slams up into her a few more times before he finishes. She lets herself fall into the abyss of white-hot pleasure. Brain only focused on one thing.

She can hear Logan coughing as Oscar slams into his throat.

It all ends too fast for her liking, and she looks at Oscar expectantly. Waiting and wanting for more.

Oscar pulls her off Logan and lays her body down on top of him. The Aussie take his time exploring their shivering bodies. The amount of concealer they are going to need tomorrow will be ungodly.

"This doesn't feel like the celebratory kissing I'd hoped for," whines Logan.

"Tell you two what: If I can get second tomorrow then I'll make sure neither of you can walk for a week." Oscar huffs. "Also, I'd appreciate it if we could refrain from calling it celebratory kissing."

"But it's tradition!"

"I feel like we've came a bit farther then just celebratory kisses..."

#x reader #f1 fic #formula 1 #fanficion #f1 fanfic #racing #oscar piastri f1 #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x y/n #loscar #oscar piastri x logan sargeant #logan sargeant x you #logan sergeant x reader #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant #op81 x reader #op81 #op81 imagine #op81 smut #mclaren f1 #ls2 x reader #ls2 #williams f1 #williams racing #ls2 imagine #loscar x reader

[vintagepvssy]

(Mostly) NSFW Headcanons - Part II

Disclaimer: Slight spoilers ahead so be warned. Just covering movies I have seen before or know a decent amount about the character. Overall, just my own personal opinions. This is just for shits and giggles so feel free to disagree. I’m also very aware that I’m being a hater rn.

Red Eye (2005) | Wes Craven - Jackson Rippner

• FREAKY ASS DUDE

• probably would learn everything about you before asking you out

• mean asf, like definitely the type to pick on you and call you a cry baby

• loves, loves, loves roleplay, specifically: CNC (Burglar x Sleeping Victim)

• big on humiliating you, probably the type to hold your head down while giving head. Likes his balls being sucked..

• feral mf, loves to use his teeth (ankle biter energy) and eats pussy like a champ [insert slurping noises]

Perriers Bounty (2009) | Ian Fitzgibbon - Michael McCrea

• top contender for best in bed

• grimey little dude.. but hey, bums know how to lay pipe like it’s their god given purpose

• not attached to any particular fetish or kink just very experimental and kinky

• 3 words: tongue in ass. There I said it. Specifically from the back, he will stick his tongue in places god hasn’t even seen.

Broken (2012) | Rufus Norris - Mike Kiernan

• spontaneous and sensual. Probably an exhibitionist lowkey

• can be a bit selfish at times, but definitely makes it a priority to make you cum.

• could definitely see him having a thing for stockings or thigh highs

Inception (2010) | Christopher Nolan - Robert Fischer

• if a boy was a princess it would be him

• DADDY ISSUES

• all bark no bite, he’s a bottom if I’ve ever seen one. Loves being told what to do and how to take it

• big fan of praise and humiliation

• will dom at times but definitely is not his preference

Watched the Detectives (2007) | Paul Soter - Neil Lewis

• Puppy

• horny teenager vibes, probably would fuck you in his office while your bent over his desk

• loves roleplay but in the vanilla way like: cop x criminal, stepsiblings 🤭, strangers, Bonny and Clyde. Just overall loves recreating cheesy pornos.

• loves when you’re all natural down there

• definitely likes to think he’s the one in charge but you would absolutely wear the pants in the relationship

• whiny asf, likes to whimper and pout. Big on theatrics.

Breakfast on Pluto (2005) | Neil Jordan - Patricia Kitten Braden

• the queen herself 👸

• another top contender for best sexual partner

• pillow princess, loves to be taken care of but will absolutely do the same for you. Definitely giving switch vibes

• super tender and sensual, could definitely see a friends to lovers trope here

• LOVES to tease and loves sexual tension. Wandering hands and subtle glances kind of shit

Sunshine (2007) | Danny Boyle - Robert Capa

• needy little freak but in a subtle way

• you would probably have to make the first move

• would probably zone out during sex ngl

• classic fan of gripping hips and neck kisses, relatively vanilla but open to exploring

• nonchalant lover but good bf overall

The Dark Knight Rises (2012) | Christopher Nolan - Jonathan Crane

• say it with me now— Mommy Issues

• don’t be afraid to join in— daddy issues

• probably grew up with his grandma or two loving parents that he despises deeply

• sick little gremlin, probably into sounding or golden showers

• two words: doggy style 😎

• he’s a switch, but mostly doms because he gets off on the thought that he’s better than you

• big on quickies, hump and dump kind of dude. Casual sex, but not super big on multiple partners

• so repulsed by the thought of sex that either the utter crippling shame of it turns him on so much that he acts like a deranged animal

• or is so repulsed that it hinders him and only does it when absolutely necessary

28 Days Later (2002) | Danny Boyle - Jim

• Jim, Jim, Jim — I love him with my whole heart and my whole pussy

• hear me out.. probably the best sex out of everyone HEAR ME OUT

• this man is DEVOTED okay!! Bro would take out an army base of 20 men just to get a lick of pussy (more so, a gentle sensual kiss, shared between two troubled lovers)

• you know he’ll eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Probably would bring his own bib and cutlery js 🙄

• not overly kinky, in fact probably a bit inexperienced, but satisfaction is guaranteed.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #robert fischer #jonathancranexreader #jonathan crane x reader #red eye movie #red eye #broken movie #breakfast on pluto #cillian x fem!reader #cilliangifs #cillian murphy characters #the dark knight rises #scarecrow #freaks I’m telling you #i’m rambling again #harlot #28 days later #husband material #feminized husband #little freaks

[florencemtrash]

Hummingbird: Chapter Seven

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

What if the Earth-1610 (Miles’s universe) version of Miguel’s wife was actually Miles’s AP Art teacher?

Masterlist

Warnings: angst and some suggestive content

Peter plugged Mayday’s ears with his fingers before saying, “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?”

He stared daggers into Miguel’s back as he typed away at the computer, the sunglasses you’d given him resting on his broad nose.

Miguel ignored him, but Peter was anything if not persistent - Mayday got all her charm from him… sorta.

He flicked out a web, launching him and May up onto the platform that Miguel had isolated himself on for the last three days, only leaving when he absolutely needed to or when a multiversal problem came to light.

“Did you hear me, Miguel?”

Peter went to jab Miguel’s side, but the grouchy Spider-Man wasn’t in the mood, catching Peter's wiry wrists with ease and chucking him over and off the edge of the platform. 

Peter rebounded quickly.

“That was rude.” He said, first dusting off his sweater and then Mayday’s. She giggled in her carrier.

“Again! Again!” She cooed.

“Go away, Peter.” Miguel’s voice was rougher than sandpaper.

“Bet you wouldn’t use that tone of voice with Y/n.” 

Miguel practically growled, shooting Peter a warning glance. He looked like he was going to say something, but one glance into Mayday’s pure blue eyes and he hesitated.

“I’m not in the mood, Pete.”

“I know you’re not. You’re never in the mood to talk about your feelings.”

That wasn’t the whole truth. He had wanted to talk about his feelings with you the night he fired you from Spider Society. He had wanted to explain so many things - what his life had been like before he met you and before Gabriella; how sorry he was for letting you get hurt; how he just couldn’t seem to get past the wall of voices in his head that told him something terrible would happen if he let himself be happy. 

The words hadn’t come out that night. He’d just stood there like an idiot until you finally gave up on an answer and left.

Maybe it was better this way.

“Miguel, do you remember what I was like when you first met me?” 

The question surprised him and Miguel snorted without thinking. 

Peter had just started to pull himself together when Miguel popped into his universe and asked him to join Spider Society. Miguel had helped him get his act together - helped him lose the bags under his eyes and the five o’clock shadow and the beer belly. Hell, he even helped Peter pick out the flowers to bring to MJ’s house. Granted, Peter had gained all that back - the eye bags, the facial hair, and the extra weight - but for a good reason this time. Mayday was living proof of that. 

Peter smiled at the memory. Miguel had been a happier person then. Still sarcastic and dry, but with a lightness that hadn’t been seen in years… at least not until you’d showed up.

“Yeah... I remember.” Miguel said quietly. 

“Would you believe me if I said we’ve switched places since then?” 

Miguel frowned, disliking the comparison.

It wasn’t that he thought less of his friend - on the contrary, Miguel had always been jealous of how easily Peter could step into his role as a father and husband - but he just hadn’t seen it like that.

He looked forward, bits and pieces of his face staring back from the dark corners of the screen. His hair was disheveled, eyes bloodshot and burning after hours of looking at screens, and dark bags dragged down the skin beneath his eyes. 

“Fuck.” Miguel groaned, dropping his face into his hands. 

When was the last time he’d slept? Actually sat down to eat a meal? He missed you more than anything. He wanted to see you again, to make you smile, and to have you in his arms. Maybe it was selfish - it was definitely selfish - to want to have you around him, but… 

“Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa. Language!” Peter once again covered Mayday’s curious ears, “There’s a child here, you son of a bitch.” He whispered aggressively.

“What do I do, Peter?” Miguel murmured softly, “I don’t know what to do.” 

Peter sighed, pulling out headphones and plopping them on Mayday’s head of bright red curls. This was a conversation for the adults and she seemed to understand, settling down against her father's chest and widening her eyes to comical proportions.

“I think you know exactly what to do.” 

“I literally just said I don’t know.” 

“Aggghh,” Peter shook his hands in frustration, “How can you be so smart and so dumb! Do what I did! Win her back! Go to her apartment. Apologize. Tell her how you feel. Be better.” 

“It’s not that simple!” Miguel threw his hands up in the air, “I don’t belong in her world and she doesn’t belong in mine. To even be around her - to love her - is to risk everything I've built. Everything we protect. I can’t-I can’t make that mistake again. I can’t…” Miguel swallowed thickly, “It was my fault Peter. It was all my fault. I lost my daughter. I can’t lose Y/n too.” He finished, eyes angled to the floor and shoulders shaking with each shuddering breath. 

Peter's shadow fell over his feet, but what he wasn’t expecting was for a pair of small, chubby hands to grip his cheeks and smear away the tears that had fallen there.

Little Mayday Parker, as wild and mischievous as her father, crawled out of her carrier and hugged him with a strength no normal two year old should be capable of.

“Don’t cry. No crying.” She commanded, rubbing her hands against his face again.

He couldn’t help it. He smiled.

“I told you she makes everyone feel better.” Peter said. A proud smile warmed his cheeks.

“She does.” Miguel said.

The precocious toddler leaned back to inspect her work and nodded in approval.

Peter clapped a hand on Miguel’s shoulder. “Y/n is different from the rest of us, Miguel. And I think she just about breaks all the rules you know about the multiverse. If things are going to work out with anyone, they’ll work out with her.” 

Miguel felt that inextinguishable bit of hope inside him grow a little stronger. Then he flinched, thinking back on how he’d ended things with you.

“I messed up, Peter.” 

“I know.” 

“No, I majorly messed up.”

“Oh trust me, I know.” He said, picking Mayday up and twirling her around, “But! I have an idea about how you can fix things.” He winked, “I learned from the best.”

>>>

Washed, clothed, and feeling worse than ever - that was the tagline of the evening as you sank into your couch, turned on the TV, and started drawing circles on a notepad. You pushed through the cramping in the palms of your hands, willing the feeling to extend up to the tips of your fingers which had remained numb and stiff ever since being electrocuted.

Someone knocked at the door and your heart gave a little leap as you blinked over to the front hallway and peered through the peephole.

“Y/n?” Mrs. Fleming’s muffled voice asked. “It’s Mrs. Fleming. Are you in there?”

You tried to mask your disappointment before flinging open the door.

Mrs. Fleming folded her fingers together, laying them on her plump stomach as she calmed herself. “Good heavens, dear!” 

You flinched, “Sorry for scaring you, Mrs. Fleming.” You said apologetically. 

“I hardly heard you make your way to the door. Might be time for me to get those hearing aids." She made a noise of disapproval with her tongue, diving into the folds of her thick sweater that emphasized her plump figure and pulling out a small container of lasagna. She gave it a light shake.

“I made extra and thought I’d check in. Didn't know if you had time for a proper grocery run since coming home. It’s funny though. I could have sworn I heard someone moving around up here two weeks ago before you got back.” 

“It was probably Miguel.” You said, and almost winced as the name left your lips, “He took care of some things while I was away.” 

“Hmmmph.” The old woman hummed in thought before nodding, handing you the tupperware, and bustling back down the hallway.

Well at least now I have dinner. You thought to yourself, shutting the door and shuffling over to the kitchen. You watched the plate turn and turn in the microwave as thoughts turned in your mind. 

Maybe you should have told someone you were officially leaving (or rather that you’d been officially kicked off the team) and said your goodbyes, but it hadn’t been your intention to teleport back to your dimension. Now that you were here, you knew it wouldn’t be a walk in the park trying to get back to Earth-928 on your own. You’d seen what kinds of worlds the multiverse held and didn’t want to risk ending up stuck somewhere strange if things went awry. You’d stick to this world with its quirky landlords and quality cooking shows - a world without Miguel.

Damn it. You frowned, setting the plate down on the coffee table with a clatter. You were thinking about him again. You were missing him again.

There came another knock at the door, and you were convinced you heard the click of the silly knitting needles Mrs. Fleming always carried around with her. It was why you didn’t bother to look through the peephole before swinging the door wide open again.

“Hey Mrs. Fle-”

You froze. Mrs. Fleming was nearing 80 years old and barely came up to your shoulder. You were eye level with this person's chest.

You already knew whose russet-colored eyes you were going to see before you looked into them. 

Miguel was almost unrecognizable in civilian clothes, a bouquet of white and yellow daisies clutched in his hand - your favorite.

“Hey,” He breathed out, lips lifted in a nervous, half-smile. “Y/n, I-”

You slammed the door shut in his face. It was more out of surprise than anything else. Yes, you’d hoped that he would seek you out. Yes, you had imagined what you’d say if he decided to find you in your universe with flowers and an apology. But it was very different seeing him stand in front of you like a lost puppy with those beautiful red-brown eyes and tousled head of curls.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. ¿Qué hago? 

You paced in front of the door, gnawing on a fingernail as you tried to think of what to do.

What you wanted to do was drag him inside by the font of his shirt and slam your lips against his, but your pride wouldn’t let you do that with reckless abandon.

“Y/n… I can hear you pacing.” Miguel said from the other side. He was sweating bullets and gripping the daisy stems so hard in his hand he worried they might snap. “Listen, I know you probably don’t want to see me right now. Maybe you don’t want to ever see me again, but… I just want to apologize. For everything. I never should have said those things to you. I was wrong and I'm sorry.” 

Your heart clenched painfully. You pressed your ear up against the door to hear him better, not caring that he could probably tell exactly what you were doing. 

“I never should have kicked you off the team. You are cut out for this and you’re one of the most talented, most competent people I know.”

You watched as Miguel waited seriously, holding onto the bouquet of daisies like they were in danger of being ripped away from him.

You opened with some hesitation, but you were already a goner. His eyes lit up even while the rest of him remained silent and serious. 

“You brought flowers.” You said dumbly, pointing to them. He thrust them out towards you, cellophane crinkling.

“I know it’s not much but-”

“I like them.” You said quietly, rubbing one of the velvet petals between your fingers. The anger you'd held towards him before was all gone. Now, you just missed him. “Come on.” 

You led him inside your apartment. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen your space. He knew to take off his shoes and to watch out for the coat hook that jutted out in the narrow hallway.

You moved around the kitchen with ease, Miguel standing close by and watching as you made some tea for the both of you. Neither of you had spoken since he’d stepped through the doorway.

“Y/n.” Miguel said, one hand brushing against your waist as you turned around and leaned against the counter.

Miguel filled up the tiny space of your kitchen, literally and figuratively, enveloping you in his presence.

“I’m sorry.” He dipped his head down towards yours, looking into your eyes.

“I know.” 

He closed his eyes, shaking his head. “No, you don’t.”

“Then explain it to me. Talk to me.” You begged, reaching up to take his face in between your hands.

He leaned into your palms, sighing and planting two quick kisses on your wrists before he could stop himself.

“Tell me.” You whispered again, leaning forward and pressing your forehead against his. You wanted to know. You wanted him to trust you enough with the stories he hadn’t told anyone else.

His hands floated down, squeezing your waist gently like he needed a reminder that you were truly in front of him.

“When I first met the other version of you - when I took my variant’s place - she knew something was different. She never said it to my face but I could tell I was hurting her. She was confused and upset because I wouldn’t remember dates or memories from the past. Because I was different. Because I was wrong.” 

You winced when you heard the pain in his words.

“And Gabriella… She was too young to know. She was just happy to have her father but…” He swallowed thickly, tears beginning to collect in his eyes, “I wasn’t him. I was never him. I never knew them like I should have. I was holding onto things that weren’t mine. I was... I was just this poison that came into their lives and destroyed their universe and I lost them both.” 

You shushed him, pulling him against your chest as he began to cry. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, engulfing you in a hug that brought the both of you to your knees. He never let go, holding you against him as he shook with sobs. 

“It’s ok. It’s ok. I’m here.” You whispered into his hair, feeling his breath coming out in short bursts against your skin. You blinked back tears, feeling your throat tighten. “I’m here.”

“I put them in danger and I can’t-” He shuddered, “I can’t lose someone else like that. I can’t. I can’t.” He repeated over and over and over again. “I thought I lost you that day when Miles and Gwen brought you back covered in burns. Your heart-” He stilled, “Your heart stopped for three minutes before you came back to us. And I realized that this time... this time I had something that was actually mine to lose.”

You held him there on the cold kitchen tiles until the bubbling kettle finally gave up and shut itself off and Miguel stopped trembling.

“I love you, Y/n.” He whispered the secret he’d been keeping for months on end.

He loved you. He loved you. He loved you. 

Your heart nearly burst from the feeling. 

“I thought I could ignore it - that it would just be some passing feeling - but I can’t.”

You laughed. It was a quiet, desperate sound, more like a sharp and wet exhale that made him pull back, worried that you didn’t believe him. It was his turn to hold your face in his hands. His hands slid up your sides, caressing your jaw as he tilted your chin up to look him in the eyes. Even with his tear-stained cheeks and mussed up hair he was the most beautiful person you’d seen in your entire life.

“I love you and I know you and it’s been the most terrifying thing in the world.” 

“...but?” You said, trying to tease him. You wanted to hear him say that he wanted you. Fuck the world. Fuck the multiverse. You wanted to hear him say that you’d give yourselves a chance to be happy.

“But I want you. I want to be with you if you’ll have me. I want the first dates and the fights and to come home to you everyday and know that you’re mine.” He said, rushing. He was a man of few words, always serious, always to the point, but if given the opportunity he would have written all the love letters in the world for you, “I want you to stay with me in Nueva York. I want you to judge my cooking and to tease me and-” 

You couldn’t stop yourself. You lips crashed into his, sending the both of you toppling back onto the kitchen floor. His arms immediately wound their way around your back, molding you to him as your hands disappeared into the strands of his hair and your breath became his.

“I love you too, Miguel. I love you,” You kissed him on the lips, “I love you.” You kissed him on the temples, “I love you,” the cheeks, “I love you,” the neck, “I love you,” You whispered against his lips. 

Miguel shuddered under your touch. He was all warmth and longing and heat as you grabbed at one another with eager hands. Clothes crumpled on the floor to the tune of breathless sighs.

The tiles were soothing and cool against your burning skin as you laid with Miguel, chests heaving as he peppered the area around your heart with soft kisses.

You rolled over onto your side to face him, fingers tracing the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones as you imagined what it might be like to draw him when he was at peace like this.

“Come back to Nueva York with me.” He murmured.

“Like this?” You gestured to your bare skin, wiggling your eyebrows. He grinned and kissed your fingertips.

“Depends on if you can blink us directly into my bedroom.”

“I thought you slept upside down from the ceiling rafters. Or in a coffin.”

He squeezed your hips, fingers fluttering dangerously at your sensitive sides as he captured your lips in a kiss. You squealed and squirmed away from his hands as he continued to tickle your sides until you were breathless and crying from laughter.

He loved to see you like this - smiling and laughing and happy. He wanted to see you like this everyday.

Your heart quieted in your chest and you finally allowed yourself to melt back into his protective arms.

“I mean it, Y/n."

 I will stay here - with you - if you just fucking ask me to. 

The pain of the argument you’d both had was still tender and sore to the touch, but a heavy weight had fallen off his shoulders after tonight. You wanted to be with him and he wanted to be with you.

"I want you to stay with me. I don’t mean you have to come this instant but…” 

“I’d like that.” You finished for him, smiling against his lips as you continued stealing lazy kisses from one another.

But then you paused for a moment, looking at him carefully, “And I’d like to be put back on the team.” 

Miguel’s lips flattened, his hands tightening around you. 

“With great power comes great responsibility - that’s what you Spider-People always say, isn’t it?” 

“Something like that, yes.” Miguel said after a pause.

“I can do this, Migs. I’m going to do this.” 

“I know,” He murmured and then said hesitantly, “I still want you to take time off and heal. I don’t want you putting yourself in unnecessary danger. I-” 

You pressed your fingers against his lips, shushing him, “I came back to you didn’t I? I won’t leave you here alone. I promise you that. It’s you and me, Miguel.” 

He let out a shaky breath, holding you closer than you thought possible.

“Me and you.” He murmured reverently. 

You spent the next few hours tangled up in each other on the kitchen floor, whispering sweet nothings and basking in the heat that naturally radiated off of Miguel’s skin. But when you finally fell asleep against his chest to the steady beat of his heart, he took the cue and gently carried you to the bedroom.

He couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face when your hands slid up and down the sheets, seeking out his warmth before he had had the chance to slip under the covers next to you. So when he took his rightful place in the bed, you unconsciously tangled yourself up in his arms again, humming with satisfaction when his fingers brushed through your hair.

“I love you.” Miguel whispered once more, feeling your sleepy arms tighten around him, before he finally closed his eyes and slipped into a dreamless sleep.

<- Previous chapter Next chapter ->

_________

Author's note:

I just want Miguel to be happy, you know?

Also (hot take), I think we all deserve more gentle and loving interpretations of Miguel. I know in the movie he comes across as very stern and aggressive - which is why I think a lot of fics write him as being a very dominating romantic partner - but I think if he were to find someone he loved and was in a place where he felt comfortable starting a romantic relationship, he would be a lot kinder and gentler with them. But those are just my thoughts.

There's still a little more to come in this fic as I wrap things up so let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

Love,

Florence B.

Taglist: @geraskier-thots @howabouticallyou @sweetheartlizzie07 @dont-mind-me27 @omg-edzia-stuff @sarcastically-defensive17 @trouble-sistar @saltyluminaryvoid @lunablue001 @sadslasher13 @yas-v @thel0v3hashira143 @trishuh8 @vague-flying-shape. @tiana76 @dinuxia-bhm @mxtokko @devilsrose666 @natbratty @zettoaizawa-shusband @dorck26 @notasadgirlipromise @niyanispunk @thecraziestcrayon @athenxt @imnotyourbcbe @jannajuju @lunamoonbby @elle-19 @aces148 @sseleniaa @elaineiswithyou-blog @summerli-u @rattlethemskulls @sunseekerlove @bubbabobabubbles @loonalockley @aleombre @littlelilies @07-bilin @nerdalicios @insanely-creative-things @enby-rising @nataliahemsworth @coralineyouareinterribledanger @louderfortheback @damnzelsoul @enheduannasposts @bontensbabygirl @mynameiswilliamblake @hyperfixationwho @corpsebridenightamare @mikeys-thighs @skulfan1 @the-falling-avenger

#miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #atsv x reader #miguel o'hara x wife reader #miles morales #gwen stacy #peter parker #peter b parker #miguel x y/n #miguel x you

[abouttofillhisshoes]

I'll take it one day at a time - M.H x Reader // pt.7

A/N: this took a while to write soz my loves TW: hard drugs especially in this one, please take care of yourself! Also very NSFW minors do not interact. I had a fun time writing it and an even better time listening to @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff (absolute cunt) tell me i'm evil❤️ Enjoy yourself my loves!!

wc: 5k

part eight

It hurts 

Everything hurts. This impossible pain that was eating you alive from the inside out. You missed him, it was like a part of you had been ripped out of you. Since the day you met you hadn't spent more than two or three days apart, and even that was by force of either his parents or yours.

You kept replaying that day in your mind. The way he had looked at you, his eyes wide and teary, begging you to let him explain. Maybe you should have stayed, made him tell you exactly what had happened. What made it all worse was that Ruby was a part of all this. She had given it to him in the first place, the thought made your stomach churn.

The past few days had been spent laying in your bed, curled up in a ball under dirty covers. He had lied to you. The lights were dim, barely illuminating the numerous piles of plates that littered the surfaces in your room. Your mother had tried multiple times to get you out of bed, but you just ignored her, not being able to find the strength. 

Hann had come over, meeting your mother in the process. She had directed him to your room, saying something about your boyfriend leaving you. Completely false, since you hadn't said anything to her. She liked to assume things, taking on whatever narrative helped her feel better.

The door creaked open, light flooding the otherwise dark room. 

His hand brushed against your arm as he sat down at the foot of your bed, his eyes filled with worry. You didn't speak at first, refusing to make eye contact. It hurt too much. 

“Darling, where is Matty?” The pet name made your heart wrench, reminding you of him. The pit in your stomach just dug itself deeper, and it felt like a thousand knives were stabbing into you always. 

You shrug your shoulders, honestly not knowing where he was. Matty had called and called, texting you hundreds of times begging you to talk to him. By the second day, you had already switched off your phone, chucking into a corner, forgotten. 

“No one knows where he is, George is having a proper meltdown.” he continues, his voice slightly shaky, the anxiety in it evident. He tells you how they had tried his house, and it turning up empty. Mattys parents were away, and nobody knew how to get ahold of them. 

“Adam.” was all you could muster, not having spoken in days. The creak of the bed is deafening as you turn around to face him, looking up. “He..” your voice cracks, tears welling up in your eyes. 

“...he did something. Heroin.” you manage to finish your sentence before breaking out into tears again, clutching his arm. “He promised he wouldnt do it again.” the sound of Mattys voice filled your mind, broken promises and lies.

“I believed him.” you force out, your eyes pleading with Hann to say something. 

“Jesus Christ, are you serious?” The question is rhetorical. He knows. 

The day is spent with Adam comforting you through crying fits and feelings of blame, even bringing you water and food. 

You ask for a spliff, that being the only thing you knew would calm your nerves. Not having done anything else since your fight with Matty, you were starting to feel small symptoms of withdrawal. Cold sweat, dizziness, you had even thrown up once or twice into the bin next to your desk.

Hann, like the angel he is, pulls out a baggie of weed, rolling you a spliff. You ask him to open the window to let the smoke out, not quite in the mood for a hotbox. He obliges, and the warm air that is let into the room feels nice. The light helps too, letting you see the absolute state your room was in. 

The haze of the weed calms you down, your crying down to only silent tears rolling down your face as Adam tries to speak to you. You don't listen, his voice sounds distorted and far away. At some point, he gets up to leave, telling you to switch on your phone. When you don't react, he searches for it, finding it underneath a pile of clothes. Turning it on, he sets it onto the nightstand, pressing a comforting kiss to your forehead as the door closes behind him.

You were alone. 

With the spliff almost down to the filter, you chuck it into the rubbish, noticing Adam had cleared the vomit from it. It dwindles out, burning a small whole into the plastic of the fresh bin bag. Staring at the wall for what felt like an eternity, you hear your phone start to ring. 

You think it's Adam calling, making sure you were eating the sandwich he had made you, so you pick up, not bothering to look at the ID. The receiver picks up only silence for the first few seconds of the call, then heavy breaths fill your ears. Matty. 

Your heart jumps at the sound of him breathing on the other end of the line, dread filling you instantly. Something was wrong, you could feel it.

“I-'' he cuts himself off, a laboured groan leaving his lips. “I don't..” 

Something starts in you, and you jump to your feet. Eyes darting around the room to locate your keys, you tug your shoes on while holding the phone between your ear and shoulder. 

“Where are you?” you say, trying to remain calm. “Matty, where the fuck are you.” you repeat, your voice sounding more urgent. 

His answer is barely audible, but you understand. 

“I'm at Carolines..- please- I can't..” the line goes dead, the dial tone as loud as sirens in your head. 

You push past your mother, ignoring her requests to know where you're going. This wasn't the time, you had to get to him, now. 

You were never particularly athletic, always opting to cut P.E in favour of smoking a spliff behind the bushes with one George or Matty. Breathing heavily, you sprint down the street towards the old paper factory, dodging cars and people like it was an olympic sport.

Out of breath and sweaty, the last bolt up the flight of stairs leading to the terrace was difficult, your legs almost giving out on you multiple times. The door to the platform was already open when you finally made it to the top. 

Your heart stops when you see curls peeking out from the side of the sofa, falling limply over the material of the armrest. A soft groan echoes through the air, pained and tired. 

The sight of him will be burned into your mind until the day you die. Matty is half laying half sitting on the cushions, an old pillow holding him up, his skin deathly pale, even more so than usual. Tears run down his face, track marks littering the inside of his forearms. 

“I’m- i’m s-so sorry, I didn't-” his words are weak, still coming from a very bad high. You start to take care of him, just like you did in that bathroom all those weeks ago. The needle is still in his arm, dirty and used, he winces when you pull it out, chucking it off of the balcony. 

“We need to- you need help, Matty, I'm serious.” His eyes widen at your statement, his free hand reaching up to grab you. “P-please, don't call anyone.” he starts, visibly shaking. “I dont- i just want you.. no one else.” he’s scared. You've never seen him scared before, the fear visible on his face. 

“Just hold still, let me-” You have no experience in cleaning wounds of any kind, but you try your best, finding a pack of tissues in your bag, wiping down his arm. 

His hands are still shaking, and they feel cold to the touch. It breaks your heart to see him like this, scared and cold, not knowing what to do. 

“Please don't tell anyone.'' He forces the words out of his mouth, making eye contact with you. 

“I won't. But this is the last time.” you answer, stroking his upper arm comfortingly. He looks wrecked, dark circles under his eyes, hair obviously unwashed. He was wearing the same clothes he was when you last saw him

“Do you have anything else on you?” you ask, holding out your hand. You weren't letting him do this again. Never again. 

He nods, taking a kit out of his pocket. Inside, another needle, a spoon, and a small baggie. Taking it out of his hands, you walk over to the edge of the terrace, shaking the sandy coloured substance out onto the street, letting it fly into the wind to disappear. 

The needle was broken in two, also thrown over the edge of the terrace. Gone 

Matty let out soft groans as he moved to properly lay down, asking you to sit with him. You do, lowering yourself onto the ground next to the sofa, your hand reaching up to stroke his face. His tears still stream down his face, and you wipe them away, smiling at him. 

“I'm moving in with you.”

“I missed you.”

Both of you spoke at the same time, your voices overlapping. He raises his eyebrows at you, words forming in his mouth before dying. 

“Okay.” he nods, accepting your decision. 

“I’ve told Hann. We’re getting you clean, I don't care if you want to or not.” 

“Okay.” 

Silence 

“I love you.” the words slip out of your mouth, hitting him just as hard as they did you. He squeezes your hand, leaning down for a kiss. He doesn't say it back. The two of you sit there, staring into each other's eyes. Mattys breathing becomes more regular, and so do his pupils. 

“Don't do that ever again, please.” your voice is small, audibly shaking. 

“I won't.” a wave of deja vu washes over you

He won't. 

What are we?

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Fuck you are! You're not going anywhere” your mothers shrill voice pierces your ears, and you shake your head. Packing your things, you walked around grabbing the remaining clothes out of your wardrobe, stuffing them into a suitcase. 

Your mother had tried to stop you, but she couldn't. Having turned 18 a while ago, you were free to go wherever you pleased. Mattys house was already filled with a bunch of your stuff, and you had been sleeping over there more often than in your own bed. What was the difference?

“If you leave now, you're not my daughter anymore.” she said quietly, almost expectantly. 

You roll your eyes.

“Never really was, was I?” that was all you needed to say. All you've been wanting to say for years. Her eyes widen, and you turn around as the hurt spreads onto her face. 

The door shuts with a loud bang, the sound echoing through the neighbourhood. 

—-------------------------------------------------------

The days dragged by as Matty became more and more restless, making it entirely your problem. No amount of weed could calm him down, jittery and shaking. The itch was there for you as well, albeit not as strong as Mattys, who was close to crying by the looks of it. 

But he had promised you, and was intending to keep said promise even if it was extremely uncomfortable, the headache that was spread throughout his head wasn't helping either.

The two of you had spent the day in each other's arms, a blanket draped over you. The TV was quiet, the lights flickering over Mattys face softly as he pulled your lips into a firm kiss. 

‘What are we?’

You push the thought out of your head, letting yourself be kissed. His hand drew small circles onto the side of your arm, ever so often stopping to lightly pinch at the skin, making you jump. You felt his smile against your lips, the feeling only comparable to some sort of divinity. It was soft moments like these that made you forget everything else. The fighting, the drugs, the others.

You had called Hann, letting him know that you and Matty needed space. Withholding most details, like the state you had found him in, you assure him of Mattys wellbeing, stating “He’s going through it, but I've got it under control. Denise doesn't know, and don't tell her when she comes back.” His mother was set to make a return sometime in the next couple months, you overheard her tell Matty on the phone.  

The kiss deepens, with Matty attempting to slip his tongue into your mouth, and you let him. Since this started happening, it had always been you that had control of the situation, not letting him even get a taste of power before pushing him down, telling him to “Be good for me, yeah? I'll give you what you want, just…” 

His hand threads itself in your hair, and you gasp at the slight tug he gives it. The look in his eye when you finally glance up makes your breath hitch. Pupils completely blown out, he looks at you with an expression that can only be described as pure lust.

He pulls away for a split second, his eyes asking you a silent question. You nod.

Immediately, his hands are occupied with pushing your shirt up, hands palming your tits, and you feel rough calluses against your skin, making you moan. It seems like all of the oxygen had been sucked out of the room when he pressed a searing hot kiss onto your ribs, slowly working his way to run his tongue across your peaked nipple, making your back arch back into him. 

He lets out a low, almost animalistic groan as you grind against him, your hips rolling onto his steadily growing erection. A flicker of pride flashed through you at the thought of you being the reason he was worked up after a few kisses and a look. You smile, raking a hand through his hair as he kisses down your stomach, quickly stopping him before he could go and lower. 

“Can we switch?” you ask, batting your eyelashes, a faux innocent expression. He nods vigorously, letting you climb on top of him. 

The look he gave you when you started to grind down onto him is priceless, wide eyes and parted lips staring back at you. You kiss down his neck, leaving aggressive hickeys in your wake, marking him up. He adjusts underneath you, and you reach a hand up to his chest, raking your hand over the expanse of it. The nipple piercing catches your eye, the black metal almost shimmering in the light. 

“O-oh my go- fuckk-” his moans fill the air when you tug on it, a sharp pain reverberating through his body, and you feel him twitch against your leg. Your teeth find the piercing, biting down and pulling again, drinking in the noises he makes in response. Hands find his sides, thumbing at his ribs, trying to distract from the pain coming from his chest. 

“You want me?” you ask, smugly, seeing his expression rapidly change. He looks blissed out, and you haven't even properly touched him yet. The next words to come out of your mouth make his breath hitch and his hips buck upwards in desperation. 

“Want me to suck you off? I promise I'm good.” you mock his words, grinning at him in the same manner he did. The sight of you perched on top of him and your question almost made him cum in his pants, again. 

“P-please, i promise i won't touch- just.. please” his voice cracks as he says the last word, morphing into a drawn out moan, the sound going straight to your core. 

“But- i want you to get off first.” he never ceases to surprise you, his statement making you perk up, raising an eyebrow at him. “You can, you know..” he vaguely gestures at his thigh, eyes avoiding yours. A laugh escapes you when you realise what he meant, an extremely unsexy snort leaving your lips. 

“You want me to.. Seriously? Grind on your thigh?” he cringes at the way you say it, flexing his legs under you. “Well, yeah, you're pretty and I like to.. watch you?” he sounds unsure, like you're about to laugh at him again. The compliment takes you by surprise, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You don't speak anymore, instead sitting up straight, towering over him. Mattys breathing becomes even more irregular than it already was, his chest rising and falling up and down rapidly. “Okay, i'll do it.'' Your voice is breathless and small, but his reaction is thankful, hands finding your hips comfortingly.

Your fingers toy with the hem of Mattys shirt, which was now pulled back down. He nods, giving you permission to take it off of him, softly moaning as it brushes against his nipple, still sensitive and raw from your previous attack on his chest. 

Your lack of pants in the first place helped you settle onto his thigh comfortably, the shirt you had on covering most of you. You could feel his gaze on you, watching your every move. An experimental grind onto his jean-clad thigh made a spark of pleasure lick up your spine, a soft moan leaving your lips as you make eye contact with Matty. He urges you on, hands creeping up to cup your tits again, softer this time. 

You grind down harder, feeling a dull pleasure spread throughout your body. Matty lets out a quiet groan at the sight of you using him to get off, getting even harder than he thought possible. Speeding up, you settle into a distinct rhythm, your hips ever so slightly guided by Mattys hands resting on them. 

“You look so pretty like this.”

He sounds genuine, his eyes raking over your body with a look of adoration. You smile, letting out a moan as he tensed his thigh slightly, upping the pressure against your clit. Lowering down to catch his lips in a desperate kiss, you can feel yourself get closer to the edge, Mattys tongue licking into your mouth only spurring you on. 

“Fuck- Matty.” you look down, seeing Mattys eyes still on you makes something ignite within you, the rubber band in your core tightening even more. His hands play with your nipples, thumbing at the skin, leaving light kisses on the back of your hand. His expression is sickly sweet, almost cocky. You cup his face, kissing him roughly as you feel yourself throttling towards your orgasm. 

A hand finds his cock, firmly palming him through his jeans, making him groan into your mouth. You can feel a wet patch forming on the front of his pants, soaking them with precum. A particularly pathetic moan and skilled twist of your nipple from Matty makes you fall apart on his thigh, legs shaking as you grind your way through your climax. 

Your breathing is heavy when you finally start to come down from your high, Matty jumpy and twitchy underneath you, watching you collect yourself. There's a wet patch on the front of his jeans where you had just been, perfectly matching the one he had caused all by himself. 

“Is this all f’me?” you ask, your hand stroking him through the material of his pants, watching him clench his fists at his side. You bat your eyelashes at him again, and he lets out a short string of please’s and begging. The sight in front of you is absolutely delicious, Matty panting and squirming, his curls sticking to his forehead.

“Relax for me baby, let me take care of you.” you coo, watching his reactions closely. He throws his head back, hitting the pillows as he lets out another loud groan. Your hand moves to the zipper of his jeans, slowly unbuttoning them. The tent in his boxers is obvious, his cock straining against the thin material.

Your nails graze his thigh, digging into the skin. You knew he liked a bit of pain to his pleasure, and you were going to give him just that. 

His hand finds your hair as you pull down his boxers, letting his erection spring out. Precum dribbled down the side, coating his cock in a layer of shine. Your hand wraps around him, giving him a light squeeze. The moan he lets out is heavenly, and you stroke up and down the length of him, thumbing his slit. He shudders, his hand tightening in your hair. 

“Please- do something.” you listen to him, reaching down to drag your tongue up the underside of his cock. Sputtering and moaning, he mutters out “T-thank you, fuck, thats so good.” 

You do the same again, taking him into your mouth. He feels heavy on your tongue, precum spilling out of the tip. 

“I’m not gonna last- i’m sorry I-” you cut him off with a graze of your teeth along the inside of his thigh. His thighs tense as your hand grasps the base of his cock, stroking what your mouth can't take. You bob your head, groans of pleasure leaving his lips as he bucks up into your mouth. He tries to apologise, and you tell him you’ll stop if he does that again. 

Nodding, he watches as your hand tugs at him, your bright nails a stark contrast to the leaking head of his cock. The sight is erotic, the way your red-rimmed mouth moves up and down his length, taking him deeper each time.

“I can’t- i’m going to-” he tries to pull you off of him, but you resist, instead speeding up your movements, desperately trying to bring him to the edge. Your eyes are watering and you can feel spit dripping down the side of your chin, but that didn't matter to you. You needed to feel Matty come undone in your mouth, and you were so close.

He whined, bucking up into your mouth, biting back yet another apology. 

“F-fuck-” is your only warning before he spills into yor mouth, hot ropes of cum painting the back of your throat. His hand never left your hair, gripping onto it for dear life as you worked him through his orgasm. 

Sticking out your tongue to show off what he had done, Matty screws his eyes shut at the sight, a groan leaving his parted lips. You swallow.

“That was.. So fucking good.” you giggle at the praise, crawling up to kiss him deeply. He can taste himself on your tongue, moaning softly into the kiss. You reach down to play with the piercing on his chest. The sounds he made were too heavenly to make you stop. 

The hickeys you had sucked into the skin of his neck and chest made you gawk at him, admiring your work. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” he smirks at you, cocky. You take out the camera you kept in your bag, which was conveniently sitting on the glass table adjacent to the sofa. Angling the camera so you could capture everything, the flash goes off three separate times. It blinds him the first time, making his eyes shut at the light. 

The second picture is better, with Matty looking at you instead of the camera, a provocative grin spread onto his face. He was always a sucker for attention, absolutely relishing in it. The picture perfectly caught the deep purple of the marks you had left on him, contrasting his pale skin perfectly. 

The third picture though, was your favourite. Your hand had made its way to his nipple, pulling at the piercing right before snapping the photo. His face contorted in a mix of pain and pleasure, mouth slightly open with his eyes almost fully closed. He sure was a sight for sore eyes, the expression igniting a fire in you. 

Leaning down to kiss him, you chuck the camera somewhere behind you, hearing it hit cushions on the other end of the sofa. The moment was soft, tender, like a fond memory. 

One thing ruined it all. A nagging feeling at the back of your mind you just couldn't calm.

"What are we?" 

—-------------------------------------------------------

It had taken days of convincing to get Matty to go with you. Ross and Adam had invited you to dinner, and George was also going to be there. He was reluctant to go, not wanting to face any of them. After hours of pleading and a makeout session, you stood by the door and watched as he put his shoes on. 

 You both walked hand in hand down the street, taking a shortcut through an old junkyard. Hann was probably just as nervous as Matty was to see him again, and you told him as much. Matty just shrugged, eyes glued to the ground in front of him. 

The ring of the doorbell as you pressed it made him finally look up. Ross answered, eyes softening and he saw you both. He pulled you in for a hug, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. Matty was twitchy and frankly, scared, to see everyone again. The way he had acted made him cringe inwardly. 

“Hey Matty.” Ross spoke as he pulled him in for one of his big man hugs. Matty hugged him back, finally smiling. It was okay, everything was going to be okay. 

The conversation had been hard at first, with Hann going on his ‘drugs are bad for you’ rant again. Matty sat and listened, and so did you, squeezing his hand under the table when Adam finally finished, getting up to put on the kettle.

George was sitting on the couch, eyeing you as you went to plop next to him. Everything seemed normal, except for Hann’s incessant rambling and checking if everything was alright, which was pretty regular now that you really thought about it. 

The night was spent laughing and watching Pulp Fiction on the telly. It felt like old times, before everything had gone to shit. You smile fondly at the memories of Matty and Ross almost killing each other over trivial games of FIFA, clawing at each other until Hann finally pulled them apart. 

You watch the others, absolutely engrossed in the movie, with soft munching coming from the direction of Ross and his bag of prawn cocktail crisps. He had an obsession with the flavour, reluctant to try anything else. George had even offered him a tenner to swap with him his cheese flavoured ones, and he flat out refused. 

The night was calm, with you leaning against Mattys chest for the majority of the movie. You felt his breathing and heartbeat in his chest, it calmed you. Everything felt alright, and you could feel your eyes droop closed. The last thing you remember was Mattys hand stroking your hip lightly as you drifted off into a peaceful sleep, breathing in the scent of his cologne.   

#the 1975 #matty healy #adam hann #ross macdonald #george daniel #matty healy smut #matty healy angst #tw:drugs #matty healy fluff #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #matty healy x y/n #matty x you #the 1975 smut #matty healy fic #drive like i do

[scekrex]

Part 2 of the punk-rock band? 😍

Ya know, where the reader just puts Adam in his place after he constantly obsesses over him (In a way that he just tries to court him and get into his pants) and the reader just has enough of his bullshit and puts him on a tight leash (figuratively speaking or not, your choice) and teaches him a thing or two 🤭 Basically just Adam consensually pushed into a subspace and taught a lesson of how to behave and not act like a spoiled brat + how to nicely ask for something he really wants 🫶🥰

I fucking got ya babes, if ya want a part 3, lemme know bc idk why or how but somehow this turned out to be a lil more complicated and emotional than I wanted it to be.

Part 1

Love me like you mean it, a little bit harder now

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, anal sex, subspace, sub!Adam, dom!Reader, praise kink

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

After Adam had met you for the first time, had felt your touch through his robe and on his mask he couldn't stop thinking about you, you were on his mind all the time. Whenever he knew you were playing a gig, he was there, front row.

And all of that led to him ending up in your dressing room again. “The manchild is back,” you grinned at the first man as you entered the room, your crew had given you a heads up on it and secretly you thanked them for it. The guy was entertaining and dedicated, that you had to give him. Adam ignored that comment and as soon as the door fell shut behind you, he invaded your personal space, not that you really minded. Adam was the type of guy who'd act all tough to get what he wanted but in reality he was a tame dude, easy for you to handle.

The first man's eyes were glued to your body, mainly to your exposed chest. Oh how he loved the way that black vest made your body look, how he loved that you wore nothing underneath, body on display for his eyes to drink in. It was absolutely beautiful, you were beautiful.

“Sup pretty boy,” the grin Adam had on his lips was probably the cockiest grin you've ever seen, the sharp yellow teeth made it seem almost preditorically as he leaned his forearm against the door. His body was covering yours entirely - for a guy his size not exactly hard to do. The golden wings closed the cage on its sides, leaving you trapped, or at least that's what Adam thought would be the case. You lazily looked up at him, one eyebrow raised and your arms crossed over your chest, “Still behaving like a boy I see.” At that Adam huffed, clearly offended by the term. Him? Behaving like a boy? Up your fucking ass. “I should teach ya a lesson, baby, whatcha think?”

The first man had no time to even respond, too quick were your hands to grab a tight hold of his collar and switch your positions, now it was him who was being pressed against the door, his wings twitched in surprise and the air got knocked out of his lungs as his back hit the door. “The fuck you think you-” he almost choked on his words as you leaned in close, pulling him down a little by his collar so that your lips almost brushed against the surface of the mask as you spoke. “You wanna get dominated so fucking badly it makes you look incredibly stupid, big guy,” a sly grin was on your lips and your eyes flickered from his eyes to the edge of his mask, dear God you wanted this manchild to take that shitty thing off, you wanted to see his face, his every emotion. If he wanted to get fucked so badly, you could arrange that. “I don't know what the fuck you're talking about,” the first man responded, denial coated his voice heavily and you knew he was not only lying to you but also to himself. A man that labeled himself straight when he very obviously wasn't, nothing you haven't dealt with in the past. And none of them had ever complained about the sex being bad. “Oh,” you hummed sickly sweet as your hands reached to lift the mask off his head, the man in front of you froze, caught your wrists in a quick motion and held them in place. The panic he must have been feeling was written all over the LED face that shined at you, it amused you to a certain level and yet you silently questioned why he was so afraid of taking it off, he surely couldn't look that horrific. “But you do, you do know exactly what I'm talking about,” your voice was nothing more than a whisper, you tried to give him the feeling of a safe space, because while putting this manchild in his place was fun, sex only worked when both partners felt safe enough to commit to each other. You weren't gonna pressure him into things he didn't like, that wasn't your style.

“I-” his hands let go of your wrists as they dropped to his sides again, he lifted his wings a little in order to make him seem more confident - it did nothing to hide the uncertainty on his face though. You made eye contact with him as you slowly lifted the mask off of his head, making sure he was okay with it. And he let you. Once the hard material was in your hands and off of his head you couldn't help but drop it, the man in front of you had absolutely no reason to hide,he was the most divine looking angel you had ever met. The messy brown hair framed his face in the most perfect way possible and his golden eyes that looked down on you were filled with so many emotions. “I’m not taking it up the ass, I'm not fucking gay,” he managed to spit out - it sounded more like a question if you were honest, but whatever helped him sleep at night. “Of course you're not,” you agreed sarcastically as you stepped in a little closer, your wing slid underneath his jaw to tilt his head a little as your hand moved to his crotch, cupping his growing erection through the fabric of his robe, “Is that why you're hard for me already? Because you're not gay?”

And oh dear all seeing being, please let him die, Adam grunted as he tried to swallow the moan that dared to escape his lips, his dick twitched underneath your touch and the grin on your lips only widened as the first man stuttered nonsense. “Fuck you,” he grumbled through gritted teeth and tried to minimize his body's reaction as much as possible - to his own disappointment it wasn't much he was able to mask. “Oh no baby, you got me wrong,” you hummed sweetly, a little too sweet if you were to ask Adam. And he raised an eyebrow at you as his cheeks flushed a little. Suddenly the hand on his dick wasn't just pressing against the muscle but slowly started to stroke him through his robe. Oh fuck, Adam wished the fabric between your touch and his dick would magically disappear, would it be inappropriate to snap it away? Maybe. “You’re not fucking me today,” you continued to speak, he tried to focus on you, on the words you were speaking. But he only caught every other word - every important word for him. Fucking today. Sounded good in Adam's ears. “I’m going to fuck you.” That was something Adam caught completely and his body stiffened at the sheer thought of it. Surely you didn't mean it that way, right? You weren't actually gonna fuck him, he had told you he wasn't gay after all, no way in heaven he'd take dick up his ass. And yet the thought sparked a little bit of curiosity inside of him. Would you be gentle with him, or treat you like he treated all the women he slept with? Ruthless and rough?

“And you're gonna submit to me,” that caused the first man to snap out of his haze, “What?” You grabbed the ridiculously high collar of his white robe tightly and dragged him over to the leather couches, pushing him down onto the larger one. He fell onto his chest and anxiety shot through his body, he suddenly went into fight or flight mode and immediately tried to get up again, this was wrong, this was not what he had wanted. He had thought about a quick blowjob or maybe - if he was lucky - he'd get to fuck your ass. But him getting fucked? Fuck no.

You placed your hand firmly between his shoulder blades and pushed him down again, the brunette turned his head sideways so that he could continue to breathe and he seeked your eyes, his were almost pleading, pleading to be released, to simply leave. But you weren't having any of it and Adam wasn't something you haven't had dealt with in the past already. You dropped on your knees, your face once again so damn close to his and yet not close enough to kiss your lips. Adam wanted to kiss your lips so desperately. One hand kept him down, the other stroked through his soft, brown hair. “Shush pretty boy,” you spoke quietly like your words were spoken only for his ears and his alone. “We both know you can be good,” you noticed how the brunette's hips started to grind against the leather at your words. Someone had a thing for praises. Good to know. “That’s it, that's my good boy,” you hummed with a warm smile on your lips as the hand that had been pressing him against the couch slid down his spine and came to rest on the first man's ass. Adam whined at your touch, tried to lean into it while he also desperately craved and chased friction. His breath hitched as you squeezed one of his ass cheeks playfully and hazy eyes locked with yours. The anxiety and fear was gone, the lust had flooded those feelings out of his system. “You can always tell me to stop, okay?” Ground rules were important and even though putting Adam in his place without any mercy sounded like a good thing, you wanted him to enjoy it as much as you would. “If something doesn't feel right you're gonna tell me immediately and we'll stop,” the golden eyes that were filled with lust and desire suddenly seemed to adore you more than they wanted to see you naked, like no one had ever told him that saying no is always an option. “Yes, Sir,” he mindlessly mumbled and a sound similar to purring left his body as you continued to pet his hair and massage his ass.

“Just look at how well you behave for me,” a small kiss was placed on his temple and he whimpered as your lips left his skin again, clearly needing your touch. His hand reached out for your body and you let him, wanting to see where this would lead you to. His fingers softly moved up and down your exposed chest, they pushed the jeans fabric of your vest aside to brush over your nipples. You chuckled deeply as you saw how mesmerized Adam looked as he touched you, like you were the most beautiful thing God had ever created and he got to touch it.

“Pretty boy,” the gentle spoken pet name made it right through his haze and his eyes snapped up to look at you. “Think you can keep up being my good baby?” His eyes widened a little at your words and a nod was quick to follow. Yeah, yeah he could be good. Good for you, good for the only person that mattered. You had given him the option to stop at every given point and his dick caused enough pain for Adam to be okay with trying it. If it wasn't his thing he'd tell you, that he could surely do. The first man wanted you, his body screamed at him to swallow you whole and he gave in, the walls inside of him shattered as he took a hold of the hand you had buried in his hair and moved it to his cheek, you were now cupping his face, watching the brunette leaning into it. Fuck he was cute like that, all blissed out and driven by lust and desire.

You lifted your hand off his ass and the whine Adam let out at the loss of contact was one of the most beautiful sounding whines you had ever heard. His face was scrunched up and while pleasure was definitely visible, so was need. This wasn't enough for him. Your hand slammed down onto his ass, the slap wasn't as firm as you had intended to, you had to test the waters first. You checked Adam's face for any kind of reaction, anything. His eyes were wide open, shock laid in them. “Adam?” you asked carefully, checking on your partner, he however ignored your question and once the M left your lips he responded, “Again.” So you did as he had asked and slapped his ass again, a little firmer this time. Two slaps turned into three and before you knew it the first man started to breathe heavily, nothing else was coming from him that heavy breaths and quiet moans whenever your hand came down onto his butt yet again. Each spank firmer than the one before.

Adam's mind was fogged up, he wasn't able to process any words that were spoken by you and yet he felt the praises going straight through his dick, making it painful to rut his hips against the couch. He needed a different kind of friction, he wanted to beg you for more but his body wasn't listening to him and not a single word was leaving his lips. His thoughts were full of you, you, you. You spanking him, calling him a good boy, telling him how good he was, fucking him. Oh he wanted you to fuck him silly.

“Adam?” you asked as both of your hands came up to cup his face, pausing the spanking for a moment to make sure the first man was enjoying himself. But. Adam didn't respond, his eyes were only half open and he was drooling onto the black leather couch, his hand has stopped touching you, it hung off the couch and Adam looked like he had just got his brains fucked out.

His cheeks were flushed, a deep red covered them and the flush went all the way down his throat. Had Adam gone into subspace from a little spanking? Apparently. You leaned in, your face only a few inches away from his as you softly praised him for taking it so well, “You are so good for me, baby, took it like a pro.” And then his eyes found yours and you went quiet for only a moment. Adam used that moment, his hand grabbed your chin and pulled you in for a kiss. The kiss was lazy yet entertaining, the pace was slow and still Adam was quick to involve his tongue, he deepened the kiss by meeting your own tongue where your lips connected, his breathing only grew heavier. Your tongues fought for dominance and you knew he wouldn't win, he was too out of it, his mind too hazy. The first man turned around, now laying on his back as he continued to kiss you. The hand that had been stroking your chest before lifted you up, placing you on his stomach. You yelped in surprise which he used to his advantage to slide his tongue inside your mouth, he claimed it as his territory, you were his now - if only for the moment. “Fuck,” you mumbled against Adam's lips as you pulled back to catch your breath. The first man pulled on your hips, moved your body downwards - if only a little - to rut his hips against your ass, a loud moan fell from his lips at the sudden body heat of yours that covered his dick. He wanted more, needed more, eyes begging you in silence for what he desperately longed for. You let the brunette have it for a moment, he was too far gone to properly realize what he was doing. However when his movements grew greedy, you lifted your hips and slid down between his legs.

Golden eyes watched you curiously as you undressed him, careful not to hurt his wings, you took off his robe for him - that was trickier than you thought it would be considering that Adam was purely out of it, he was barely able to lift his hips so you could pull down his fucking underwear. You shrugged off your vest, threw it across the room to get it out of the way and then you got rid of your pants and underwear right after kicking off your shoes.

The brunette's hands reached for your hips and he lazily traced little circles against your skin as you covered your fingers in your own spit. Usually you carried a small bottle of lube with you but not today - why you didn't remember. Spit would do the work though, not as smoothly as lube but you'd make it work. The hazy eyes that were watching you looked happy with the view they got and you couldn't help but make a small show out of it. You lifted your hips a little to arch your back and with your own fingers in your mouth you moaned, eyes rolling back into your skin as your hips thrusted up into the air, needing friction just as much as Adam did.

When your fingers were wet enough, you gently placed your index finger against Adam's hole and you felt how he tensed up, how he denied any entrance immediately. You gently patted his hip, “Don’t you worry big guy I've got you, if you don't like it we'll stop, but give it a try.” And those words seemed to help because the man underneath you relaxed at least a little. You'd make it work. The feeling of your finger entering him was not as unpleasant as Adam had originally thought, it was actually okay, he could handle it. But soon impatience took over and he started to squirm, that was a signal for you to enter another finger, and so you did, a whimper of your name was your reward.

Adam was quite easy to stretch, his body gave in so easily, like it knew what Adam was craving, that the first man had been made to take your dick. Sooner than you thought you were able to replace your fingers with your erection and entering Adam was bliss pure, his thight, hot walls clenched down around you and you bit your lip to not spill your load immediately - fuck he was good. Your hands moved up and down his sides to calm him down, grounding the first man with your touch seemed to work quite well, the poor dude was touch starved through and through. “So fucking tight,” you grunted as you were slowly burying yourself inside of hin, he took it better than you had expected. Adam whined at your comment, his hands tried to grab your shoulders to pull you down to him but ĥe was too out of it for his body to work properly so he had to try a couple of times before he acually grabbed ahold of you and was able to pull you down, “Don’t fucking treat me like a weak bitch,” the first man mumbled, almost sounding annyed at your slow pace. Blissed out Adam was a version you liked better, that was for sure, when he was all heavy breaths and needy whines, a drooling mess for you and only you to enjoy. But whatever that cocky bastard wanted, if he wanted it rough you could definitely deliver that. So your hands moved down Adam’s sides on last time before you grabbed his hips firmly and started to pound into him, there was no bottoming out inside of him first to get him used to your size, if the first man wanted to be torn apart, to drown in pain and lust, then you would give that to him. His head fell back at that, the flush on his cheeks that also crept down his neck only deepened as spit drooled from the corner of his mouth. His hard dick was resting against his chest and seemed to be in desperate need of attention, so you sneakily wrapped one of your hands around it at the same time as your dick hit his prostate for the first time.

Adam screamed.

You were sure your band mates and the crew would hear him but you didn’t mind, it was some sort of trophy in your book, who could say of themselves that they made the first man scream from pleasure? You were quite certain that not a single person had ever gotten him to be that vocal. “That’s it Adam, lemme hear how good ya feel,” you placed a soft kiss on his chest, your hips kept moving at the quickest pace you could offer and considering that Adam wasn’t begging for more made you feel like it was enough to give him the pleasure he desperately wanted and needed from you. The hand around his dick tightened and Adam was visibly overwhelmed, he tried to match your pace, to meet both your dick and your hand half way through - it didn’t work out as well as he would’ve liked it to but it was enough. Enough to bring him so, so close to the edge, “So much, so fucking-” Your lips wrapped around his nipple and what was originally meant to tease him made him come undone. Because the second your soft, warm lips closed around it, his entire body tensed up, a violent shiver ran through it and then you felt the hot liquid that painted both of your bodies like a canvas. You weren’t done with him though, not until his insides were just as white as his own stomach, so you fucked him through his orgasm. His wings came up to cover his face - a move you didn’t approve of so you were quick to push the golden feathers out of the way, “Don’t even think about it, I wanna see your face when I mark you up from the inside.” Adam’s eyes watched yours, filled with greed and desire he nodded, “Fuck, yeh, just- ugh” He interrupted himself as he clenched down around you, offering you more friction as his own dick slowly grew soft again. And yet he wasn’t complaining about how you took longer than him - a thing you definitely thought would happen. Adam had given you the vibe of a selfish asshole when it came to sex, you were glad that impression had been proven wrong. “Gonna mark your bitchy ass as mine,” you growled as your pace quickened slightly, your thrusts started to become a little sloppy and breathing became harder as lust took over your body entirely and all you were able to do is to fuck him. Adam, who seemed to still be on a post-orgasm-high, whined at that, his nails dug into your shoulders lightly as he responded, “Yes, please.” And a plea from the first man followed by a moan of your name was what did it for you. The grip on his hips became bruising and you slammed your dick into him violently. And then you fell apart on top of him.

Your orgasm washed over you, causing your arms to give out which resulted in you falling onto Adam’s chest with a loud moan of his name that fell from your lips. Adam was quick to wrap his arms around your body, he wanted to keep you as close as possible. And when his wings closed themselves around the two of you, covering you like the warmest, softest blanket, you had to force yourself to pull out of him, had to rebel against the tiredness that lulled your body in far quicker than ever before. So you moved your hips backwards, a whine left both of you as you weren’t exactly happy with that - but you knew it was better than staying inside for too long. You crawled up a little, rested your head underneath his chin and let sleep take you as you listened to Adam’s steady heartbeat. The first man was already asleep.

-

When you woke up it was because of the cold that surrounded your body, Adam’s wings were no longer your blanket replacement and his body heat was no longer spending you comfort, the only way you were able to inhale his scent was when your nose pressed against the leather of the couch you were laying on. You turned your head to the side and watched as the first man got dressed. Of fucking course. “Leaving already, huh?” your voice sounded rough - not only because you had given a bunch of concerts lately but also because of the sex you had earlier. Adam flinched at the sound of your voice and gave you a quick glance as he straightened his robe, “See babes, you don’t do fucking boys, I don’t do fucking cuddles.” You sighed. You should’ve known it, should’ve stayed away from him before you got attached. “It was a good fuck babes, but I don’t do fucking love, only gets you hurt and shit.” You forced yourself to get up, and as you did your wobbly knees gave out underneath you. You were prepared to hit the floor but Adam caught you instead, “Jesus fucking Christ man, you need to be careful.” HIs face was so close to yours and while his eyes gave you a hint of annoyance, you also found worry in them. Still a little drunk on just waking up you reached for his face while his mask was still laying on the table and gently caressed his cheek. The first man seemed conflicted by that, he wanted to lean into the touch, to embrace and enjoy it, but that would show he got attached - just like you. But the decision on how to react was taken from him as you leaned in to place a gentle kiss on his lips. Fuck getting attached. The brunette kissed you back just as soft as he prevented you from falling by pulling you against his body.

“You’re so beautiful, y’know that?” you mumbled against his lips as you pulled away a little, ending the kiss - too soon for Adam’s taste, he could be standing here kissing you for all eternity. Beautiful. When was the last time someone had told him that with such honesty and without the intention of getting in his pants? He didn’t know.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #male reader #adam x y/n #adam x reader #adam x you

[mrvlbimbo]

His secretary but in a porno way 

Saul Goodman x reader

20ish year age gap, spit kink kinda, creampie, he fucks his secretary (not in the office sadly), idiots in lust, major sexual tension, I can't tell if this is out of character for him or very very in character, Saul talks a big game but he's kinda subby when push comes to shove. Also im warning y'all this probably isn't very sexy bc they're just very goofy the whole time. BUT it is very cute! there's a mention of viagra but I'm not a doctor so I probably got it wrong, ignore me hehe

4.1k words btw

Frankly, she was getting a bit tired of being ignored.

Sure, when she got hired by a sleazy seeming lawyer almost twice her age she was actually a little concerned about the idea of him checking her out.

But there was something about him that made her want him to look at her like that, maybe it was because he absolutely refused to.

About a month in, she switched to pencil skirts that were a good three inches shorter and as far as she could tell, he never noticed. She had to strut into his office one day in a skirt that barely covered her ass before she could even get him to say anything about it.

"Look. I don't want to tell you how to live your life, female empowerment and all that, yeah. But this isn't a great part of town and if you're going to wear stuff like that, I just worry ya know?" he shook his head, genuine concern lining his tired face.

"Right, sorry Mr. Goodman." She ducked her head in shame, embarrassed that her unprofessionalism hadn't made him madly lust after her; it had just made him call her out for being unprofessional.

"You know what? Wear what you want, just- Would you let me drive you home?" her heart started beating out of her chest at the suggestion. It was the only indication he had ever given that he cared for her more than just as the person who got him coffee in the morning.

After that she went back to more sensible skirts, still a bit shorter than was professional but nothing to write home about. When paired with tight low-cut sweaters, stiletto heels, and thin mesh tights held up by a garter just above the hem of her skirt, she felt like a sexy secretary from a cheesy low budget porno. In the best way of course.

She knew she wasn't ugly, that couldn't be the problem. He never wore a wedding ring either, not that that would have stopped her.

Maybe he was just a good guy? A guy who didn't have any fantasies about banging his hot young secretary on top of the desk in his office. Although, she highly doubted that.

But she still had no proof that he wanted her. Until one glorious night when she was locking things up and she decided to power down his computer for him, only to be met with the home screen of a porn website.

She couldn't hold herself back from looking at his watch history and she was surprised in the very best way to find titles such as,

"businessman getting a blowie under his desk during a meeting" "lawyer fucks his hot young secretary" "older man younger woman" "office sex" 

She really should have turned off his computer then and there, but instead she watched a few of the videos.

There was one that appeared in his searches multiple times, so she figured that would be a good place to start. And she was right to pick that one.

The female actress bore a striking resemblance to her, like if she wasn't wearing her glasses she could totally mistake it as one of her (frequent) sex dreams about getting down and dirty with her boss.

She tried to stay calm, she really did, but now that her suspicion was confirmed he was even more on her mind. And she really started to notice the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn't looking.

Glancing up from his papers when she yelped "whoops, dropped a pen!" and watching her bend over just enough so he could see her lace panties and the bit at the top of her thighs where her hosiery ended.

And she just narrowly missed the way he slid a hand into his pants to relieve himself.

But she had gotten more bold, leaning over his desk to show off her chest anytime he asked her a question. Brushing her hand on his shoulder and arm when he walked by her and always standing close enough for him to smell her perfume.

She also started accepting more rides home, making it an almost nightly thing.

At first he parked on the street and let her walk up to her apartment by herself. But this wasn't good enough for her.

So maybe she hired one of the kids next door to give her trouble one night and make it seem like she was in more danger than she was, not that it could be proven. But it worked like a charm because after that he always walked her to the door.

It seemed like every time he dropped her off they stood at her doorstep for just a bit longer, if only she could get him to come into her apartment.

There wasn't a lot of rain in Albuquerque so when it started pouring one night just before she was about to leave work, she knew it had to be fate.

"Mr. Goodman, can I get a ride home please? It's raining pretty hard out there." She may have imagined it but something in his face changed when she said his name.

"Of course, dear. Just give me a minute to grab my things," he replied simply.

Dear, that was new. He rarely ever called her anything other than her name. Sometimes he called her Miss and it felt delightfully old fashioned.

Their car rides were always quiet but this time it was silent, having to pay close attention to the road due to the rainfall coming down hard.

Despite the rain, he still walked her to the door, his gray suit jacket darkened by the rainwater by the time they arrived.

"Can you drive in this?" she asked tentatively. 

"We'll see," he sighed, reaching out and putting a hand on her shoulder. He gave her an awkward pat, both of them cringing at the exchange.

"Wait- Uh, why don't you stay. Just till the rain clears up, please." The lie formed quickly, her thoughts grasping for an excuse to make him stay.

“I uh- I don’t want to impose.” As the words come out of this mouth, the weather worsens, hail coming down along with the rain and making it seriously dangerous conditions.

"No really. I mean like who's gonna pay my bills if my boss dies in a rainstorm?" she giggles a bit awkwardly, giving him a pleading look to just agree so she doesn't have to keep going with her unconvincing charade.

"You make a good point. Plus I can't leave my lovely assistant to brave the storm on her own, now can I?" His words were in agreement but he still seemed hesitant, eyes glancing back and forth from her to his car parked in the street.

"I mean you can, but you really shouldn't." She tried her best to make her voice breathy and seductive, twirling his paisley tie around her fist and tugging it slightly.

"Oh and why is that?" his eyes widened as he looked down and met hers, pupils blown wide although he assumed it was just from the dim light outside.

"Because I want you here," she cooed, pulling him into the apartment behind her and slamming the door.

In the dirty part of her brain this scenario went down a very specific way, she pushed him against the closed door and they had their way with each other. Sometimes it was slow and sensual, sometimes it was fast and hard but she had fantasized about it many times.

But then there was reality, in which she led Saul into her apartment and they sat on the couch in awkward silence.

"So uh... can I get you anything, Mr. Goodman?" she asked, while reaching her hand over to suggestively run up his thigh and batting her lashes at him.

"Just Saul is fine. And I'll have a gin and tonic." She could see the way his body tensed at the contact and she wasn't quite sure if that was a good thing.

"I guess you could say I better call you Saul." She giggled at the corny joke, hopping off the couch to mix him a drink.

"That's clever, I should get you to help me with commercials." She smiled to herself while mixing the drink as she thought of the idea.

"Well, as long as I get to spend more time with you." She stood behind him, passing the glass over his shoulder and then perching her hands there, gently massaging the sore muscles. "Mr. G- Saul, I mean...whoops."

He laughed lightly, putting a hand over hers on his shoulder. "It's ok."

"So..." she started

"So?" he prompted when her words stalled, anxious to hear whatever she had to say.

"Long day?" she asked as if it wasn't obvious by the tension in his shoulders.

"They're all long days," he grumbled, leaning into her touch, much to her approval. 

"That's no good. You're always so stressed. Taking care of everyone else, but who's gonna take care of you?" There was no way other than suggestively to interpret her words. The tension of them hung in the air until he responded.

"Isn't that your job?" he asked, his voice deeper than usual. The gravely tone made her want to giggle like a schoolgirl with a crush on her professor and the irony of it was not lost on her.

"Oh please. You barely concede to letting me get your coffee in the morning. Sometimes I feel like you're the secretary and I run a very successful phone answering company." She sighed and rounded the couch to sit down next to him.

"You really are clever," he mused, leaning his chin on his palm and staring at her with a small smile. Then he snuck his hand over onto her thigh much to her surprise, but not an unwelcome one. 

"You're the clever one, sir." Her hand traced over the back of his, putting gentle pressure on his fingers and urging him to squeeze the soft flesh of her thigh. 

And he did squeeze, just a little bit. But it was enough to make a shiver run down her spine. "Don't call me sir, it makes me feel old." His voice was a low growl now, eyes staring her down like predator to prey. 

“Men are like wine, they get better with age.” Her voice was heavy with lust, their faces so close together now that her warm breath was brushing his cheek. Her fingers crawled up the arm of his suit jacket, dark manicured nails clutching tightly to the fabric to pull him dangerously close. 

"Still raining like hell out there, huh?" He pulled back, leaning back on the couch and looking forward to the dark tv instead of at her. It was a clear effort to cool down the tension of their situation. 

"Yep, looks like you're stuck with me for the night. I'll grab you something to wear to bed." She rushed out of the room, mentally kicking herself both for coming on too strong and for not fully committing.

She needed this night to go the right way so she could fuck him and get it out of her system. But it was so easy just to talk to him, that wouldn't do.

Her heels clicked on the hardwood of her bedroom floor as she paced around thinking of a solution. Simple flirting wasn’t going to work with him, maybe it was his moral code or maybe he hadn’t gotten laid in a while but it was like trying to get into the pope’s pants. 

After grabbing a pair of sweatpants for him, she frantically dug through her underwear drawer, coming up with a forest green nightgown after tossing the contents of the drawer onto the floor of her room. 

When she arrived back in the living room with the pair of sweatpants for him to wear, he had already stripped down to his boxers. Embarrassingly, she squealed, slapping a hand over her eyes and tossing the sweatpants in his direction. 

“Ooh lookit that, you’re so tiny without heels on.” His eyes raked over her body, quickly coming up with an excuse for the transgression. Although it fell flat when contrasted with the hungry look he couldn’t seem to hide. 

“Shuddup, you ass,” she giggled, grabbing a pillow and smacking him with it, somehow using the momentum to “fall” into his lap. 

Her knees were on either side of his legs so she was straddling him and her hands clutched at his shoulders to steady herself. “Is that any way to talk to your boss?” He teased, reaching out and twirling a strand of her hair around his finger before tucking it back behind her ear. 

“No, sir. I guess I’ll have to find some way to make it up to you, huh?” She leaned in, lips just barely brushing his as she whispered sensually. The intention in her words was clear. 

“Jesus christ. Is this really happening?” he shakes his head as her sharp fingernails scratch down his bare chest, breath hitching when her hips jerk against his. 

“I don't know what you mean.” She blinked at him innocently, hands resting on his waistband just above the obvious bulge showing through the gray sweatpants. 

“I mean the fact we’re living the plot of a low budget porno. Frankly, I’m just bummed we can’t drive to the office and make it more immersive.” His hands slid under the green lace and mesh of her nightgown, groping at her hips and leaving an indent from the ring on his pinky finger. 

“Would you want that? You wish we were in the office right now? Wish you had me pinned against one of those stupid fucking pillars? Or maybe sitting pretty on your desk?” Her glossy lips glided over his neck, leaving pink marks on the slightly tanned skin. 

“Hey! The pillars arent stupid. They’re dig-” Before he could finish, she was smashing her lips against his, her tongue slipping into his mouth skillfully and halting any words he might have been trying to say. “-nified. The pillars are dignified,” he panted out, slurring his words slightly despite only having one drink. 

“Aw, they’re really not. But it's cute that you think that.” Her hands cup his face in a surprisingly gentle way, her soft hands brushing his jaw and cheeks as she seemingly studies his face. 

“Cute? Seriously?” he scoffed, eyebrows furrowing in frustration. 

“Yes. You’re cute. You make this little face when you’re thinking where you scrunch your lips into a line, it's very cute.” The brushes her thumb over his lip, just barely sliding her finger past the seal of his mouth and pressing down on his tongue. He wrapped his lips around her finger, sucking enthusiastically and swirling his tongue around the pad of her finger. 

He practically fucking whimpers when she pulls her finger away and sucks it into her own mouth, humming at the taste of him. 

“Is that why I'm here? Because you think I'm… cute?” He gasped when her lips went back to his neck, sucking and biting his sensitive skin. 

“You’re here because I want to fuck you ‘til the sun rises, but I suppose that’s part of it too.” Her hand slipped under the waistband of his sweatpants, pleasantly surprised that he had slipped out of his boxers when she wasn’t looking.

“O-oh. That might just kill me,” he groaned, hips jerking up into her hand. 

“Oh what a terrible way to go,” she giggled, moving off his lap and sinking down to her knees between his legs. 

The sight of her on her knees for him, tongue lapping at the precum on the tip of his cock, was absolutely sinful. The most he could do to stop from blowing his load right then was grab a fistfull of her hair and hold her still. “Woah woah, ok one sec. I'm going to cum if you do that.” 

“On my face or in my mouth?” she asked, a mischievous smirk pulling up the corners of her lips. He gulped when she ran her tongue over the length of him. Her movements were careful and teasing, heeding his warning and slowing her roll to give them more time. 

“I’ll fuck-” she seals her lips around his cock, taking him down her throat until her nose is pressed flush to his stomach. “I’ll let you know.” 

She looks up at him with desperate eyes, trying to communicate just through the fluttering of her eyelashes that she was trying to say, fuck my throat. 

He got the message loud and clear, tangling his hand in the back of her hair and somehow forcing himself further down her throat if that was even possible. 

Drool started to pool at the corners of her lips, salty tears spilling from her eyes and dripping down onto his cock. “Jeez you are fucking incredible,” he whimpered, hands now brushing her hair back gently and keeping it out of her face. 

Just as he was about to cum she pulled away, her saliva mixed with his precum dribbling down her chin. “As much as I love having your cock in my mouth, I need you to fuck me.” 

She stood shakily, tumbling forward into his arms and back to her place on his lap. She pressed her mouth to his messily, giving him a taste of his own cum on her tongue. 

“You dirty little slut,” he murmured against her lips, his hands reaching down to squeeze her ass as she licked into his mouth. 

“Creepy old perv,” she countered with a wink, reaching her hand down to clutch his weepy cock, dragging the head of it against her warm entrance. 

His head fell back against the couch, hands grabbing her waist so hard it was probably going to leave bruises. She’d need to think of a good excuse to wear something that exposes them. 

“Touche. Do you have a condom?” He turned to reach for the cabinets next to the couch but she stopped him, grabbing his wrists and bringing his hands back to cup her tits. To which he reacted with wide eyes and a labored breath. 

“I have a latex allergy,” she lied quickly, head fuzzy with the idea of him inside of her. 

“No you don't. You’re allergic to peanuts and bees.” He scrunches his eyebrows at the random lie, taking a second to flaunt his random knowledge of her. 

“Fuck me raw?” she offered with a bubbly grin on her cheeks that he couldn't seem to say no to. 

If his eyes were wide before, they were practically popping out of his skull now. Concequences be damned, he was going to fuck his secretary raw and fill her with his cum if it was the last thing he did. “Well if you insist. But my doing it on the couch days are behind me, mind if we take this to the bedroom?” 

With minimal warning he stood. “Saul, oh my god!” she yelped, her legs wrapping around his waist to keep her steady in his arms. 

“I gotcha,” he grunted, strong wiry arms wrapping around her back and holding her to his chest as he made the trip from her living room to the bedroom. 

He tossed her onto the bed and she giggled as he frantically shoved his pants off and crawled onto the bed to hover over her. “I think I just threw my back out,” he groaned as he kissed down her neck and groped at her chest and thighs, bunching up her nightgown to run his fingers through the slickness between her legs. 

“I’ll give you a massage later, sugar,” she cooed, fingers tangling in the short hair at the  back of his neck, nails slightly digging in in a way that was both painful and pleasurable. 

“Pet names already?” he teased, tucking his finger under the straps of her dress one by one and easing her out of the garment, kissing every new stretch of exposed skin. 

“Just shut up and fuck me.” with her legs around his waist, she flips their positions so she’s on top, hands on his chest to steady herself as she looks down at him with hunger. 

“Yes ma'am.” His voice was practically a whimper, a new side of him that she was quite enjoying. Who knew the bigshot-always-in-charge Saul Goodman liked to let go a bit in bed? 

His breath caught in his chest when she slid his cock into her with relatively little difficulty, despite its size “Feels alright?” 

“Fuck yeah. ‘S really big,” she moaned, moving her hips as much as was possible while still recovering from the large intrusion stretching her. 

“If I knew—if I—” He tried to say something but his head was swimming with the feeling of her warm heat squeezing the life out of him. 

“So that's how to get you to shut up?” she teased, nails scratching his chest as she started to bounce on his cock and take his breath along with any coherent thought that might’ve still been floating around in his head. 

“Faster, c’mon,” he groaned, fingers digging into the flesh of her hips and urging her to increase her momentum. 

“You don't get to m-make demands,” she growled, her hand curling his neck and squeezing just enough to make him whine. “I’ve been wanting you for months, let me take my fucking time.” 

“Touch yourself for me, baby. I know you want to.” He takes control of the thrusting. With his bruising grip on her hips, sliding her up and down his cock and brushing that spot deeeep inside of her that made her see stars. Meanwhile her skillful fingers snaked down between them to play with her clit. 

And this is when he gets really into it, curses spilling off his lips along the lines of “Fuckin’ perfect little slut.” “Shoulda done this ages ago.” “This pussy is mine, ya hear?” “All fuckin’ mine.” 

“Yeah, you love this pussy?” she whined, her hands shaking now as they both lost control. 

“You know I do.” The filthy sound of skin slapping together was almost overpowering his choked out words, the slight twinge in his back not nearly enough to ever make him think of stopping. 

“Cum in it,” she demands, tightening around him and practically sucking him in farther if that was even possible. 

He obliged her demand of course, because who is he to deny the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen while she’s cumming on his cock. 

“Whoo,” she shouted, hips rolling against his with vigor to milk every last drop out of him. 

“Holy mother of god. I think I’m dead.” He stares up at the ceiling as she struggles off his lap with shaky legs. 

“I think you’re fine, considering the fact you're still hard. Dead men can't have boners.” She giggled slightly, fingers dancing over the head of his still sensitive (and hard) cock. 

“Shit. I took some really strong viagra before this. I’ll uh…handle this,” he grumbled, pushing her hand away and replacing it with his. 

He watched her every move as she got out of bed, cum leaking down her leg. His cum. He touched himself to the sight of it and for the first time, he didn’t feel like a pervert jerking off to her. 

“Be back in a sec,” she muttered, going into the bathroom and leaving him to his own devices. 

He waited patiently for her, only granting himself little teasing touches until she returned. “Have I ever told you that you have the most perfect tits?” he groaned, reaching over with his free hand to squeeze her boobs.  

“No, you hadn’t mentioned it.” She sighed when he rolled over and buried his face in her chest. 

“Fuckin’ perfect tits.” His voice was muffled by her aforementioned tits, but he got the point across by mouthing at the sensitive skin. “Can I mark ‘em up?” he asked, not bothering to listen to her response before he was biting down and leaving red marks that would fade out into a dark purple later. 

“Guess I’ll have to start wearing those low cut sweaters again,” she teased, one hand petting his hair while she reached the other down to play with his neglected cock. 

“You always know exactly what to do, I—fuck—you’re so—” his words stutter out as he cums again, his spent body shaking against her. 

“Perfect?” she finished, quoting his earlier compliment. 

He gave a content sigh, nuzzling his face into her chest and wrapping his arms around her waist tightly. “Yeah.”

************************

whelp... that was certainly an experience, I hope y'all had thoughts about it

I know I did!

lmk if y'all have idea for this pairing I kinda love the idea of Saul with a hot young secretary

#saul goodman #Saul Goodman smut #Saul Goodman x reader #jimmy mcgill #better call Saul #Saul Goodman fanfic #bcs #bcs fanfic

[mychoombatheroomba]

Idle Fantasies

Between the Bones (Leon x GN! Reader) - Chapter 26

Maybe it was stupid to dream, but you let yourself do it anyway.

(Cross-posted from Ao3)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Index

"You asked me once what I'd do, if I hadn't enlisted," you began one night, as you circled Leon in the training yard, listening to the music Krauser subjected you both to. The topic was brought up after days of you thinking about that brief discussion you'd had with Leon. The grim turn of focus after you'd given each other a few moments of respite. 

Did you choose this? STRATCOM. This training.

The question - and Leon's answer - had taken up much of your thoughts these last few days. And it had all culminated in one way. One thought that you had promised never to entertain: what if? 

What if things had never gone wrong? 

What if your world hadn't been altered so completely? 

Hell, what if you'd never enlisted in the first place? 

"Think I have an answer for you." 

Leon's eyebrows rose in surprise, and not just because of the knife you swung at his stomach. One he dodged easily - and one that he punished with a near-miss swing at your attacking arm. You tried to hold Krauser’s lessons in mind. Tried to treat the practice blade as real. The threat of it made you both more cautious.

The trouble was that even having been with each other, even knowing each other so intimately, sparring was still very much a dance between the two of you. A language the two of you had perfected over the months, one that got your heart beating fast for more than just the danger of it. "Oh yeah?" He breathed and went after you with a quick slash to the chest. Almost had you there, too. "What would you do, then?" 

You swiped at him again, circling around him and bringing your unarmed hand towards his blade, trying to push it out of the way. It led to a brief but lightning fast exchange of hands and blades swinging at each other, neither of you gaining much ground before you both retreated back. 

He was smiling at you proudly. Better luck next time, he said without words, his eyes roaming your body for just a moment.

You couldn't help but smile back and do the same.  

"Think I'd make a pretty good DJ," you shrugged, nodding towards the open window of Krauser's office. Bluegrass was back, unfortunately. "Better than whoever he's listening to." You raised your voice a little, like you were hoping Krauser heard the jab. You didn't get any response from the Major, but Leon laughed. It was good to see him in better spirits. Good to know that letting him slot his head between your thighs made him feel better. Or maybe it was just the fact that the two of you had the night to yourselves again, since your new training partners had decided to take the evening off.

Even if you and Leon had agreed to prioritize practice over sex tonight, it was an opportunity for the two of you to be together, one way or another. 

"You would only ever play the Spice Girls," Leon teased, and you nodded shamelessly. 

"Damn right. And the world would be a better place for it." You were mostly joking. Mostly. Another exchange went by, and you landed a slash on Leon's arm as he stabbed at you. He wasted no time switching hands and going for your side with his left. You counter-cut to avoid, but he ended up nicking your leg with his blade anyway. 

"Stupid songs that make you happy," he nodded as you both backed away again, repeating the words you'd spoken to him so long ago. "I'd listen to that radio station." 

"Maybe I'd play some Green Day for you. If you're lucky."

His smile widened, and you had to admit that confidence looked absolutely staggering on him. 

But however good he looked now, however proud you were of how far he'd come, you still had every intention of winning. 

So, you were ready when he came at you, knife aiming high for the well between your shoulder and clavicle. You blocked with all the certainty of a soldier who'd lived for months with a knife in your hand. Trouble was, when you countered with a stab at Leon's belly, he knocked your hand away with the same level of confidence. You were quick to attack again, bringing your knife up and over to stab at his chest. 

You'd taught him well how to defend against that. A block and another counter cut nearly caught your arm, and you exhaled sharply at the quick follow up he delivered. 

Another near miss.

Too many of those as the gap between your skill levels shrank. 

Or maybe some buried part of you just wanted to feel him on top of you for a while. 

You realized things might be dire for you as you went for a high attack, only to be blocked, and answered with a knife thrust straight at your heart. 

You smacked Leon's attack away in time. 

Unfortunately, you weren't fast enough to stop the hard side kick he delivered to your stomach  that sent you stumbling backwards. You let out a grunt at the pain just before you righted your stance.

He was becoming very fond of those kicks. 

"Not bad, pretty boy," you praised, your voice low so Krauser couldn't overhear. 

"Not too hard?" He asked, and you knew that he did it because he was trying to be mindful of your old wounds. The scars on your belly and ribs, and the trouble that the tissue underneath sometimes gave you. 

You appreciated the concern, but with how your blood was pounding in your veins, you couldn't help but feel it was misplaced, right now. 

"You're fine," you shook your head, and then you rushed him. Your strikes and defenses happened almost simultaneously, you going high and Leon going low. You were the one a step ahead this time, though, and you hooked his leg and brought him down. You saw surprise cross his face, but only for a moment before you were struggling against each other on the ground, bodies pressed against each other. "Besides . . ." you managed through gritted teeth, just as the two of you finished your grapple with you narrowly coming out on top. Your knife slid into place, held in a reverse grip at his neck. He was getting damn good . . . but you were still better. You grinned down at Leon, pinned to the ground beneath you, and spoke quietly to finish your thought, ". . . I don't mind it rough." 

His face went bright red, and then he smiled after a moment. However much of a hardened soldier he was becoming, you took special joy in knowing that you could still make him blush.  "Is that right?" he asked. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he promised with a hushed voice, and you got your second victory out of his flustered state. 

So, taking in the sight, you climbed off of him and offered him a hand up. 

He smiled up at you as you pulled him from the ground, and he dusted himself off. "So, a DJ, huh?" Leon didn't seem to quite believe you, but the idea seemed to make him happy all the same. 

"Ah, probably not," you admitted. "Just the first thing off the top of my head."

"I could see it," Leon said, and then went on after a moment. "Or, you know, an MMA fighter." 

You snorted, nodding. "Or that." You rolled your shoulders back, taking a breath and asking him the question that had been on your mind for days now. "What about you?" 

Leon looked at you then, and you could tell he was trying to deflect as he raised a brow. "Do I like it rough? Or . . ." 

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. "What would you do? If you could go anywhere? Be anything?" It was a big question. The kind that middle schoolers asked of each other, when the whole world seemed like it was laid before them. Before most saw the railroad tracks their lives were angled down. It was the kind of question you didn't concern yourself with often, because why worry about something that would never be? With Leon, though . . . you wanted to know what shape his life might have taken if not for all he'd suffered. What he would choose now, knowing what he did. 

And you found yourself unsure of what to think when Leon looked at you and shrugged after a long moment. "Honestly? I . . . I guess I don't know, either." His words were quiet, betraying how much the thought bothered him. "I mean, I thought about being a cop somewhere else. After Raccoon City. But . . . I just couldn't shake it. What happened there." You knew all too well the meaning behind those words. "Not that I had long after it all happened before they 'asked' me to join." 

"If they'd given you a choice?" You found yourself asking, hating the world for even needing to pose choice in this as a hypothetical. "Would you have joined?" You weren't quite sure why you were asking. 

Maybe, perhaps because some part of you wondered if his choice would involve the life you had chosen for yourself. Not the idle fantasies, but the real one. The one you both were in now.

Leon pressed his lips into a thin line, and again, shrugged. "I don't know. I mean . . . I've always wanted to help people. I think . . . I know there's a chance for us to do that. It's just . . ." 

"Not how you pictured doing it." You finished the thought for him, and he nodded. 

"Yeah." 

You could sympathize. You hadn't joined the Army with any grand ambitions. It had been an escape. A desperate one, from a life that would have gone nowhere otherwise. You'd never planned on becoming a Sergeant, initially. And you'd never planned on becoming an agent for a classified program. You'd never had the imagination to predict any of this. 

But here you both were. The two of you, your lives taken and twisted into something you hadn't been meant to live. At the whim of something you couldn't control. 

Cogs in a machine. 

And even if you felt like it was a machine you belonged in, there was, perhaps, a part of you that wanted something else. 

"Maybe not a DJ for me," you said, after a long pause between you and Leon. "Maybe just . . . a house away from everything. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere green." 

You watched as the words made his face shift, and he looked at you with that soft, beautiful smile of his. "That sounds nice. Maybe in the mountains somewhere-" he said it like it was something he thought about, too. Like it wasn’t just your stupid little pipe dream, but his as well. 

Suddenly, you felt more vulnerable than you were comfortable with, so you shrugged. Played it off as nothing. Waved away a mosquito that got too close - a herald of the summer on the way. "Probably not in the cards, though." 

"Maybe not now . . ." Leon stepped closer, and you realized that you were entertaining too much hope, ". . . but some day-" 

"Think you're being optimistic again there, Kennedy." 

"You started the conversation," Leon pointed out. You had to give him that. 

"I did." Because some part of you was awake, now. A part of you that you didn’t want, but every moment you spent with Leon, it stirred more and more. A foolish, impossible longing for something that you could never have, because there would never be anything normal about your life ever again. 

But you imagined it, anyway. 

You hadn’t used to. Not before Leon. 

“But seriously,” Leon went on, and you wished he would drop it, “that’s a good dream.” 

“It’s an unlikely one.” 

“You’re not asking to go to the moon, you know,” he chuckled. “You’ll have to live somewhere.” 

“I’ve lived on a base since I enlisted,” you shook your head. “Don’t know if I’d know what to do with myself out of one.” It was spoken with an air of realization, because you hadn’t really thought about it before now. You’d just accepted that as your reality. But when you were done with training, when you were sent out into the world, would that change? You almost couldn’t imagine it. 

“Maybe we’ll have to find out, then,” Leon said, and you just looked at him. Wondered if you should shoot down the idea. 

You wondered too little and too late, though, because you found yourself nodding. Because you wanted to entertain something happy. Not just for him, but for the both of you. “Maybe we will.” It was too much of an allowance of hope, though, so even as you watched Leon’s smile brighten, you shrugged again. Backpedaling. “No sense thinking about it much now, though. Not like we’re leaving this base any time soon.” 

And, because fate liked to make you the butt of so many jokes, you were proven very much wrong the next morning. 

⧫⧫⧫

The sound of tires scraping against gravel. The distant growl of heavy engines. 

The morning run was interrupted the next day by the sounds of vehicles. Leon had enough sense not to let the sound distract him too much, but once breakfast came around, the whispers had well and truly spread through the base. 

It was Alenko who voiced those whispers, his eyes alight with a more genuine excitement than Leon had ever seen from him.

"Did you see the monsters they drove in?" he asked, sitting down at the table with an energy that didn't match how utterly bruised he was. 

"Heard them," you nodded, taking a bite of the rice and meat they'd served that day. "Sounded heavy duty." 

"A bunch of Humvees, APV's, they even brought an M1117," Alenko exclaimed with such genuine glee, and Leon had to smile. 

“It’s a Christmas miracle,” Leon held up his hands in celebration, earning him a side-eye from you. 

“It’s May.” Your deadpan just made him laugh. 

“Ah, you’re no fun.” 

You gave him a look at his response, shaking your head and returning to your meal. But he saw the little smile curving the corners of your mouth. He would never tire of that smile. Not after the sun and all the stars burned out. 

“You’ve probably never seen any of those heavy vehicles up close, have you, rookie?” Valeria asked, raising an eyebrow in Leon’s direction. 

His focus recentered, Leon studied the dark-eyed soldier then, wondering where she was going with this, because Valeria seemed to always be going somewhere with everything she said. “No,” he admitted, and he felt your eyes on him again. 

“Oh, you’ll be in for a treat then,” Valeria said the words with a smile.

Leon learned soon that she was right, because Krauser, it seemed, had called in more than just the APV’s and Humvees. An officer accompanied the vehicles, and several technicians. Mechanics. People who specialized in keeping the machines running. It became clear that the Major intended you all to learn your way around the machines, but the greatest surprise came the day after the vehicles arrived. 

Because as the squad formed up for morning drills, the Major made an announcement. 

“I’ll be leaving you all for a few weeks,” he began, and Leon was sure that, were they not all standing at attention, there would have been murmurs throughout the squad. He could see your eyes widen, clearly taken by surprise. “Got a report I need to make to Command. If all goes well, I’ll have some new things for you when I get back. New lessons.” Leon knew what he meant, then. He knew that he was going to speak to Command about the bioweapons. He was going to try to do as Leon asked, going about it the careful way. 

Leon hadn’t pegged Krauser as one to cleave to what his superiors ordered all the time, but he supposed that if this was his life, if the Army and STRATCOM were all he had, then he understood that caution. 

And if this let them all keep their instructor, then Leon was more than accepting of this happening the “right” way. 

He couldn’t believe he was actually rooting for this path so he could go on being taught by an asshole who had woken him up with tear gas. Who’d done so much to break him and you and everyone else down. But he was understanding now what you had known all along. That Krauser, despite it all, was doing his best to make sure that you would all survive everything. That you would all have as many tools at your disposal as possible. 

And that included APV’s, apparently. 

APV’s . . . but that wasn’t where things were going to end, it seemed, because Krauser went on as a more lithe but no less stern man stepped up beside him. “This is Commander Cortez. He’ll be taking you all on a little field trip up to Fort Benning. It’s past time you all got some experience behind the wheel.” 

And Leon had seen the way your eyes widened as Krauser gave the location. You and all the rest of your squad. Alenko looked like he was about to jump out of his skin, he was so excited. 

He asked you later why you’d balked like that. 

“Fort Benning,” you began to answer, “it’s where the Armor School is. They train cavalry scouts there and-”

Alenko cut you off, his smile making him seem years younger. “And tanks, man,” he said, and Leon felt his eyes widen. “That’s where you learn how to drive tanks.” 

Leon went quiet for a moment, looking over at you, then nodding. “Huh. Well, shit.” 

It seemed the two of you would be getting some time off-base after all.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Index

A/N: Just a cute lil chill chapter for Valentine's Day!

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #jack krauser #resident evil x reader #resident evil 2 #resident evil 4 #resident evil #between the bones #gender neutral reader #leon kennedy x you #no y/n

[justmeinatree]

Think I’m Losing It

Summary : weed makes harry submissive. until it doesn’t.

TW : smut, subspace, breath play, drugs (weed)

Word Count : 2.2k

if there was one thing you loved about the moment harry took out some weed, it was the impending, absolutely amazing sex that would loom around the corner.

and this time was no different. both of you taking more bong rips than you could even count, your brain was properly mush. it started off with a roll of harry’s head, to face you. and it somehow turned into heavy kissing, harry humming out small whines and whimpers.

it was always like this. with a heavy weed induced fog, harry would fall a little on the submissive side. usually a role occupied by you, it originally took a bit of a learning curve to find your groove. 

the thing with the weed, is that it obviously affected you as well. so an idea had popped into harry’s head, convincing you once to wear a strap on, and letting him suck on it. you had given in, figuring that it may not do much for you, but if it was good for him, you wouldn’t mind at all. 

what you never expected was to actually be able to feel what he was doing. you swear it’s the absurd amount of thc in your bloodstream, but watching harry’s mouth work over the toy had your mind reeling. 

you could actually fucking feel the pull of harry’s lips, the suction of his cheeks, light gliding of his teeth from time to time, the expert flicks of his tongue on the head, even the gagging in the back of his throat when he took it too far. like you had actually grown a full fucking penis for this moment. 

and harry loved it. the complete bliss took over his features, whenever his mouth first made contact with the tip of the toy. he loved how submissive it made him feel, especially considering it was a fucking toy. 

but when you admitted to him that you could actually feel it, he fell into it even more. wanted you to know how good he could be. wanted you to be proud of him. wanted you to love it just as much as he did.

so needless to say, the routine was set. a lot of pot. and a strap on. which is where you both find yourselves right now.

you were on the bed, standing on your knees, watching harry below you, his mouth working over the toy. you thread your fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp, “look at you, taking my cock so well.”

harry groans at the praise, sucking it in further, and a shiver shoots down your spine, your head lulling back for a moment, eyes fluttering shut. you give a harsh tug on his hair, chasing that feeling again.

as if on cue, harry groans again, your hips bucking forward, the dildo gliding down his throat. he gags momentarily pulling away, working his tongue over the tip as he catches his breath, giving his throat a small break.

you roll your head forward, eyes locking on his, watching some of his spit drip down his chin onto the bed. “can’t believe you’re fuckin dripping for my cock,” you groan, harry’s eyes fluttering shut as he sinks down on the toy again. 

you moan out loud, harry’s nose pressed against your lower belly. your entire body trembling, your mind reeling at the fog induced feeling of his throat constricting around an appendage you don’t even have.

harry quickly pops off the toy entirely, pushing himself up on his knees, all of a sudden towering over you, his lips slotting with yours.

one of his hands grips the side of your jaw to hold you in place, the other gently stroking the toy. “can feel me playing with your prick, hmm sweet girl ?” harry murmurs against your lips, your body trembling at his featherlight touches against the strap on.

“mhmm,” you hum, nodding, arms wrapping around harry’s neck, anchoring yourself to him. 

this, also, always ended up happening. like the flick of a switch, he was back into his dominant role. even harry didn’t know what caused it, if it was something you did, a sound you made, or just a feeling inside him. 

“what if i do this ?” he asks quietly, his hands leaving your body entirely, before falling on your breasts, forefinger and thumb closing in on your nipples and twisting. 

you cry out, your forehead falling to his shoulder, that being the first real touch he gives you tonight. in comparison to imaginary touches, it was fuckin electrifying. 

harry bites his lip at your reaction, not quite expecting so much from just a twist of your nipples. he tugs on them, his fingers eventually sliding off.

one of harry’s hands lands on the side of your neck, the other on your jaw, his thumb pressing under your chin until you’re looking up at him.

“been neglecting you haven’t i ?” he coos, his thumb stroking your throat, before his hands slide down your body, landing on your hips to unbuckle the toy. harry notices the string of your arousal that connects to the strap as he pulls it away, biting his lip, seeing just how wet tonight’s adventures have gotten you.

as he gets up closer to you, no more rigid toy in the way, lips slotting with yours, harry’s cock slides effortlessly through your slit. both of you moaning loudly, finally letting yourselves have attention where you craved it most.

“you’re so fucking wet, poppet,” he mumbles against your lips, his hand wrapped around your throat, right under your jaw, keeping a loose grip. “love when i suck your cock dont you ?” he asks quietly, lips ghosting over yours.

you were so fucking gone for him. your brain was literal green jello. you dont think you could have answered him even if you tried. but the words still got to you, shooting straight down to your cunt. 

as your head grew heavy, it dropped to harry’s chest, his hold on your neck tightening significantly at this angle. everything starts going fuzzy, your hands resting limply against harry’s toned stomach. 

you trust harry entirely, you know that he knows what he’s doing. it lets you fall into the complete blissfulness of it all. wholeheartedly knowing that you’re okay, he’s got you.

just as you start to feel everything go dark, harry’s other hand grips harshly into your hair, pulling your head up. you quickly gasp for air, your entire body prickling.

as your eyes flutter open, harry’s watching you attentively. he notices how glassy your eyes have become, how slow and laboured your breaths have become. you’re slipping for him. and although this isn’t the first time, it’s not something that happens all that often. he supposes that extra bowl of weed might be partly to blame.

he knows that you like it rough, but that you also need him to be kind. he could use your body, you enjoyed the physicality of it. but you needed him to speak sweetly to you. needed to feel safe and loved.

“lets lay you down, poppet,” harry hums, helping you get down on your back against the mattress. “don’t want you passing out on me, yeah ?” he coos softly. 

“tell me sweet girl,” he murmurs, hands roaming over your stomach, hips and thighs, avoiding any area you wanted to feel him most. “do you remember your colours ?” he always checked in with you, but he needed to know how far you had slipped before moving on. 

one time, you were so far gone, you couldn’t give him colours. that worried him a bit. but harry can read you, knows you inside and out better than anyone. he handled it perfectly, continuing on with things he knew you enjoyed most. always stopping long before he normally would when you have access to colours.

he watches you nod, mumbling out breathily, “green, yellow, red.”

“s’my good girl,” he coos, leaning over to kiss you, “always my good girl aren’t you ?”

you nod, humming, a small smile creeping over your lips, darting forward to press your lips to his again, and again. 

harry hums quietly against your lips, smiling softly, “lay back, poppet. m’gonna make you feel really good. deserve it dont you ?”

you relax fully into the mattress, your brain a little too far gone to properly answer him, feeling harry’s hands roaming over your stomach, fingertips lightly fluttering over the swell of your breast, a shiver running through your body. he then digs his nails into your ribs, scratching roughly down your sides to your hips.

you groan loudly, your entire body rolling, hips lifted off the bed, searching for any sort of touch. your pussy was throbbing, begging for the much needed attention it’s been deprived of so far this evening.

“pretty girl wants me touch her, hmm ?” harry asks, hands settling on your inner thighs, spreading your legs wide open for him.

and christ, you were so wet. your heat was leaking down your bum, clenching over nothing, clit puffy, just screaming to be touched.

“gotta make up for the neglect dont i ?” harry hums, fingertip dragging through your folds, collecting your arousal, swirling it around. “how about we see how many times you can cum for me ? how does that sound, poppet ?”

you whimper, nodding, trying to press yourself more into his teasing touch, “green harry, s’green.”

“so fuckin wet, bet i dont need to even prep you. look so ready for my cock. love that. love how fuckin ready you are. always ready to take me,” he taps his cock against your sopping cunt, watching the string of arousal connecting you both, every time he pulls away.

without so much as a second word, harry aims himself directly with your entrance, rolling his hips, his cock gliding effortlessly inside you, bottoming out instantly.

you moan loudly, your legs trying to close around his hips, your body trembling as your brain tries to catch up with the quick intrusion. 

“fuck pet, you were made for me,” harry groans, head tipping back, as he grinds into you, his prick rubbing over all the best, deepest spots inside you. spots you didn’t know existed until harry stepped into your life. 

a string of whimpery moans keep leaving your lips, unable to hold anything back. not that harry would let you anyway. your hips start bucking on their own accord, chasing more friction.

“want more dont you, sweet girl ?” he hums, working up a proper rhythm, the tip of his cock colliding over and over with the special spot inside you. as his fingers make contact with your clit, rubbing quickly up and down from the top of your entrance to your clit, your head rolls back, nails digging into any bit of harry’s skin you can reach.

“gonna cum already aren’t you ?” he moans, feeling your centre start to clench harder and harder around him. “c’mon poppet, first one yeah ? show me what your cunt can do for me.”

you couldn’t stop it even if you tried. your orgasm crashed over you so fast, harry’s words of encouragement, the incredible fog of weed, the buzz of subspace, the rough rubbing of your clit, the pulsing of your pussy over his cock. it was everything. he was everything.

he doesn’t stop. fucks you right through your orgasm, keeping the steady pace, his thumb working just the same over your clit. his other hand reaches up to grope over your breast, fingers working over your nipple.

your body was on overdrive. you never had the opportunity to come down from your high, the next orgasm rolling on, harry talking you through it again, “fuck, yeah, that’s it love, give it to me.”

this time though, he watches as your cunt gushes squirt after squirt, with each clench of your heat. “christ, again, poppet, want you fuckin empty. soak me, baby.”

he works harder, his thrusts deeper, his thumb flicking faster, another orgasm crashing over you before you even finished the last, another explosion of juices leaving your pussy.

“yes, yes, yes,” harry groans, “c’mon, keep going. know you can sweet girl. show me how much squirt you have in there.”

you were floating. swear to god you were fucking floating. your skin was so hot, so prickly, your lungs were gasping for any bit of breath, your centre quivering. but you couldn’t stop. didn’t want to stop. wanted to be harry’s good girl. wanted to show him what you could do for him. 

harry works you through multiple more orgasms, your brain much too foggy to even begin grasping how many you’ve had, squirting through each of them, until you had almost nothing left.

“last one pet, yeah ?” harry hums. “cunt’s pretty empty, gonna cum with me this time ? one more, be my good girl.”

you whimper loudly, his words reaching your consciousness, as his hand wraps around your throat, squeezing tightly.

your body wracks itself through another orgasm, everything going momentarily black.

once you come to, harry’s pulled out of you, he’s laying next to you, trailing kisses over your neck, fingertips soothingly rubbing your stomach, listening to his sweet whispers as he goes, “perfect girl. perfect for me yeah ? always so fuckin perfect.”

……

Masterlist

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #smut #drugs #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles writings #one direction #writings #harry styles masterlist #justmeinatree #subrry #soft dom harry

[her-reidiance]

A Kindred Spirit's Revelations, or: How This Arknights Player only came to love Lappland infinitely more — a Treatise by Her-Reidiance

I have had so many thoughts about Lappland in Il Siracusano it's insane. She afflicts my brain like Oripathy. Please bear with me, below is a long post and contains spoilers for the event.

EDIT: This part is misremembered, I apologize. The Saluzzos took in Cellinia Texas 7 years ago, after the Texas famiglia was "liquidated" for rebelling against Signora Sicilia. Yet Salvadore also sent Cellinia to live with them before the purge.

Lappland and Texas have been through how much together... was Lappland infected after Cellinia was taken in? How did those changes start to show... slowly or rapidly? Did Lappland's obsession begin with Cellinia first leaving Siracusa, or was it prior to that? Despite what we do gain knowledge of in the event, there's still some open doors.

We do know that they know each other quite well, and there's still some vestige of trust before the event's conclusion, this being my favorite representation:

The fact that Cellinia doesn't even bat an eye at the fact that Lappland broke into a supposedly well secured prison, but also the fact that she accepts the treat that Lappland brought, only to then realize it's her least favorite flavor — a fact Lappland had to have known going into this — sets my heart on fire. They know each other so well! They're complementary, contrasting, they have intimate knowledge of each other (take this phrase as you will, I already know how I do) and they regularly stay in some sort of off-balance with each other.

But the fact is, Lappland's obsession with Cellinia isn't just some textbook stalker with a crush, like what most would initially think given what had been presented prior to Il Siracusano. As Lappland says herself:

Lappland grew up the perfect Siracusan, the perfect Donna in training, the perfect killer. She was everything that could be expected of a woman in her station. She didn't see any way out of that life. It's what she was born in, it's what she will die in. But then along comes Cellinia Texas, doing nothing to save her family's life when the time comes to exterminate them, simply walking away from it all, and then walking away from her years later to go to Lungmen. Whatever condition Lappland was in by then, a switch was flicked on nonetheless, and she realized: "Oh... if it sucks... I can hit the bricks!"

But could she, really? What if Texas came back to Siracusa, and found that she could not truly escape her destined life after all, that she was just as bound to this place as Lappland was and would die here? That was the real test, and thus the events of Il Siracusano take place. But, when all is said and done, and it's just the two of them alone in the park...

I love this so much because it illustrates that our favorite insanity wolf has evolved! There is progress in her character arc! It's in an absolutely unhinged direction but it is no less in character for it. Her obsession has left from focusing solely on Texas as the Ideal, and now focused on destroyed Siracusa as a sort of Anti Ideal. Lappland now knows she is not bound by fate or blood or destiny to the place she was born. She too can simply watch the flames consume her family, her life, and walk away. And unlike Cellinia, she intends to be the one to light the match. The narrative gestures to this as well:

Lappland is now able to face the world, the wide world around her, not just as backdrops to her pursuit of Cellinia, but as hers to explore, to enjoy, to destroy as she wishes!

This moment is so much to me. It's the sudden clarity in her vision that demonstrates that she finally sees Cellinia as her own person, as just Texas the woman. Texas the Penguin Logistics courier. Texas, the woman who left. And she's no longer Lappland Saluzzo, shackled to her family name or a predestined future as its leader. She's... just Lappland.

Part time soulmates, Full time problem. No other dynamic can sum them up. Texas still cares for Lappland, just as she does Giovanna, as a part of her past that she did not altogether dislike. But she also sees more clearly than either of them. Giovanna, stuck in the past when she was Cellinia's best friend. Lappland, presently stuck on destroying the city around her as a final show of independence.

Finally, Lappland leaves the city, after a couple of loose ends are wrapped up. She wanders the wasteland, where the freshly defeated Zaaro happens upon her.

She fights Zaaro for THREE MONTHS in the middle of desolate wastelands. In all of that time, Zaaro didn't kill her, because he came to realize that there was no point in it. There was no satiation to be found for doing so, and that her fractured mind makes her a perfect candidate to be his next Fang. She is an empty husk, a woman who has nothing to live for by herself, but she is full. Full of training, full of potential, full of a singular goal; she is perfect to serve as the vengeance that Zaaro wishes to exact on Siracusa for his failure. And so, they team up, forming a bond forged in mutual hate. Not unlike the original appearance of Eddie Brock and Venom, truly.

The timing of the Azione Solo stories seems ambiguous to me, but some of them definitely take place after the main events of Il Siracusano. Of course, while I'm on the subject, let's discuss Lappland's solo story. I believe I have space left for more pictures so I'll share a few.

The summation is that Lappland makes a minor cameo in Cellinia's, in which she leaves a radio for the Texas to find, and she also goes about rooting through her family's estate one more time. She finds a photo of her younger self, and reminisces slightly on it. In between there was also a musbeast that she found and decided to keep, until it was taken and slain by the Saluzzo mafiosos.

After reminiscing about her father, and how doomed he — and as a result, she — are by being born as Saluzzos, as part of the mafia famiglie system... she destroys the image, while lamenting briefly that once again, the beloved pet of hers was killed by her father, laughing maniacally. To her, there still is no escape, or at least that's one way her mind leans. She knows Cellinia left, but maybe... maybe she cannot. All she can do is burn it down so there is nothing left to trap her. Nothing left to come back to. Scorched earth.

Finally, she dismisses Capone from her tentative services, having recruited him and Gambino at the end of Code of Brawl. Capone at this point realizes a bit just how absolutely feral and insane his "boss" is, and he is ready to die trying to kill her to be rid of her, by holding a knife in his sleeve. Of course, this is Lappland we're talking about. She sees through it right away and expresses probably one of her more genuine selves by stating that he's making a choice, and that's enough for her. He's free to go. The duplicitous Lappland, who prior might just have killed him for the sake of... sport? Insurance? On a whim? Lets him go instead, because she respects that he is making a choice for himself, rather than what he had been doing all event, which is walking on eggshells around her and trying not to be killed by her. We leave Lappland's story for now with this:

This implies that she returns to the city at some point after contracting with Zaaro. This to me shows promise of a continuance of her character. Lappland, The Fang of Zaaro, 6-star Operator coming sometime. Maybe during the Laterano event? After all, there's much more questions left to be answered... like why Lappland, a Lupo from Siracusa, can use Arts so well; and implied to be a skill of hers before her infection... but that's a ramble for another post.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you all understand my kinship with Lappland a little better, or at least have a bit more appreciation for this wonderful, horrible, terrifying, beautiful creature.

#Arknights #Rei speaks #now I just need to see her interact with Mostima 1 on 1... #To complete this wonderfully woven web of quadrants between her and Penguin Logistics #Lappland #Lappland Saluzzo #Texas the Omertosa #Cellinia Texas #Lappland Arknights #Texas Arknights #Lore #Analysis #In which Rei gets autistic about her kin #Long post #No I mean really long

[angel-of-the-moons]

A Rose Under The Moon

Moon Knight System (Marc/Steven/Jake) x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: None really

A/N: Gods you guys I am so sorry it's taken so long, life just keeps getting on track and derailing into some crazy bs for me lately (and of course the wonderful problems of depression and problematic mental health are an issue) but I'm hoping I churn out a bit more writing because I miss it and Lord it drives me bonkers when I wanna write, but can't think of where to start. So this is one of the shorter chapters, filler mostly. But have some Hippo Mama-focused stuff for a bit!

Taglist: @bad4amficideas @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @shirukitsune @lokisremainingsanity @mundivagantsoul @furblrwurblr @zoleea-exultant @latenightcravingz @daygirl26 @thelastemzy @leahnicole1219 @crazyunsexycool

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Chapter 7:

Cats and Cradles

You were certainly a peculiar creature. Odd dietary habits, an awkward sleeping schedule...

But all this could be tied to your soulmate, surely. Or well... Soulmates, as it were. It had to have been.

"It must be so difficult for you, poor little thing." Taweret sighed as she watched you eat your breakfast for the day. Some simple grain-based cereal with granola and dehydrated fruit mixed in, with some sweetened oat-milk poured in, a nice piping cup of tea steaming next to you.

You idly ate spoonful after spoonful while you read an old journal of some sorts. Mass produced of course, but the pages were yellowed and torn at the edges, the spine well-creased.

Taweret leaned over to see what was in the book. Inside were detailed sketches of relics from various Egyptian tombs.

The goddess chuckled as she looked down at you, and looked at your wrist. The bottom right Moon was full today. Given your choice of breakfast and reading material for the morning...

Taweret had to guess Steven was in control of the body. Already, you and the boys were so in tune with one another you didn't even notice when your habits would change depending on who was in control.

Like the day you put whiskey in Jake's coffee. You were intending to do the same for yourself. In fact, you did.

You were sipping at your tea when a slight scratching could be heard at the door that led to the stairs that descended into the alley behind your shop.

Taweret's little ears flicked about as she watched you curiously as you stand, and go over to the door. Once it opens, there, patiently sitting with big, beautiful green eyes, was a silky-soft black cat.

The cat raised its paw at you a few times, meowing.

You chuckle and step aside, "C'mon, Puck. Yes, I got your treats for you." You say to the little creature as she--yes, Taweret was positive the cat was female--sauntered into your flat as though she owned the place.

The cat, apparently named by you as "Puck" sat at two empty little dishes on the floor, pink with little fish pictures printed on.

"How quaint!" Taweret giggled. Of course, she knew you couldn't see or hear her, but she was curious about you. And if that blasted old pigeon was nosing about you, Taweret wanted to know more about you as well. And gosh, did she find you positively endearing! Especially with how you were baby-talking to your little furry friend!

"C'mon, Puck." You giggle, pulling out a small container of goat milk. Taweret watches, absolutely besotted with the scene in front of her as you pour some of the milk into one of the pink bowls, and a handful of kibble in the other.

You scritch the cat's ear as she happily laps up her milk, before she switches and munches on her food.

"I wish I knew what you got up to when you're not around. I haven't seen you for two weeks!" You sigh, sitting on your haunches with your cheeks in your palms as you watched the creature eat.

Taweret carefully maneuvers herself out of the way as you get up to grab your cereal, finishing it off as you talk in between bites to your furry companion, ranting about some controversial fact or another you've read about, or perhaps it was a particularly rude woman in the local super market, you never ran out of things to rant about to the cat.

The hippo woman giggles again as she clasps her hands in front of her and the one-sided conversation you were having. When she looked back down, she noticed Puck was staring right up at her.

Oh, right. Animals can see her.

Ah well... It's not like Puck could talk, so she couldn't exactly tell you there was a 9 foot hippo woman standing in the middle of your flat.

"You're such a good girl, Puck." You coo, scooping up the fluffy critter. The cat allows you to hold her in a way reminiscent of a mother holding her baby, and she purred as you rubbed her belly, licking her chops clean of the food and milk she still had on her.

"Such a messy girl, too." You grin, leaning down to boop your nose to Puck's.

'This cat is the calmest I've ever seen.' Taweret thought amusingly. 'So well-behaved and sweet. A perfect little friend for this darling girl.'

Already Taweret was feeling things for you, she was already starting to dote on you (even though you didn't know it) in a similar way she did with Layla.

The past few weeks, when she wasn't conversing with Layla or the boys, she was with you, milling about in your shop, watching you bake. (Watching someone bake muffins without eggs and other animal products was fascinating! Steven usually made meals, not sweets!)

Sometimes she would sit on the floor, curiously watching whatever it was you had on the TV in the background. (Heavens, there was some dreadful stuff there. She learned to tune out your serial killer documentaries...) However, Taweret was certainly partial to the sci-fi movies you watched.

Particularly the old ones, like that one... Oh, what was it? That strong young woman with the orange cat? Ah! Alien. She very much liked that franchise, it was nice seeing such a strong young woman. "Ripley" reminded her so much of Layla. She even had curly hair! And her darling cat, Jonesy; she had a soft spot for ginger tabbies; they tended to be so silly!

As you went about your morning routine, Taweret noticed that Puck would watch her everywhere she went. It wasn't uncommon, again, for animals to react to her presence. Dogs and birds would make a fuss, but cats were always content to just watch. Sometimes she would lean down and give the little animals a good stroke to their fur.

Taweret continued to watch, the invisible spectator to your routine as you did your dishes and began baking your morning muffins and cakes for your shop.

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

The day was rather droll, the grimy chilly weather outside meant you would have few customers. So, you'd taken it up on yourself to start organizing and dusting shelves of the books that hardly got touched, Puck staying your loyal little shadow.

She was a big hit with those that did come in, especially older folks. They would lean down, stroke or scratch her and go "oh, such a sweet cat" and "such a good girl!" And of course, Puck seemed to eat it all up, purring loudly and sitting snugly in a folded up sweater you set on the checkout counter.

However, you noticed that Puck, somewhere around mid-afternoon, began walking about the shelves, sitting at the end, and staring.

It was unlike her, when she would spend time with you. She almost always snuggled in your old wool sweater and waited for pets from customers.

But right now, Puck was sitting in the section that held your stock of fantasy and sci-fi novels. Her eyes large, and unblinking as she looked at what appeared to simply be dead air. You noticed she did this in your flat this morning... but paid no mind to it. After all, who could possibly claim to know the inner workings of a feline mind? Perhaps a speck of dust wafting about caught her eye and she was fixated upon it? Who knows?

You left Puck to do her silly kitty routine and continued cleaning and organizing.

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Taweret got a little anxious when the cat persistently followed her about. For some reason, this cat was wholly invested in Taweret's appearance after she awoke from her nap on the counter.

Perhaps it was because Taweret was an alien presence that the cat had never seen before? Perhaps she could sense Taweret's divinity? Cats were often capable of sensing supernatural things, or even venturing into a kind of spirit world, and capable of bringing good luck and good fortune to those that housed and loved them.

And you seemed to care and love Puck whenever she would come back to see you from her "adventures" as you put them.

But right now, Pick was still just... staring.

"Oh, dear... Shoo, little one! I'd hate for your friend to catch on!" Taweret said, her fingers wiggling anxiously, ears flicking about.

The cat merely stared, giving Taweret a long, slow blink in response.

"Ohhh..."

"Whatcha gawking at, Puck?" You say, clicking your tongue as you kneel next to the cat, rubbing her head with your fingers.

Puck's tail merely flicked about behind her a few times, and she gave another slow blink, but not at you.

Your eyes track where Puck was staring, and for a moment, Taweret was worried you could see her...

But instead you chuckle and scritch the cat again.

"Is my bookshop haunted, Puck? If so, tell your ghost buddies not to knock stuff off my shelves, okay? I do not have poltergeist insurance."

Taweret sighed, her body sagging in relief as you walked off, paying no further mind to Puck and her odd behavior.

"Goodness me, you certainly are an odd one!" Taweret told the cat, reaching down to stroke her sweetly.

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

A young woman with bright green hair and possibly the most piercings you'd ever seen in a person had walked into your store, striking up a conversation with you.

She was from Turkey, originally, and was looking into books about any local history, and oddly enough, nursery rhymes.

The young woman told you her name was Anya, and that her parents met when her mother was on some job that required her to travel. She only recently moved to England (her mother's birthplace) after her father passed away.

That's when Anya told you she wanted to go into childcare, hence the books on nursery rhymes.

"Yeah, there's a local daycare that says they need more books cause the kids love em to pieces." She snorted, shoving her hands in her pockets. "Literally."

"Oh, no I can imagine." You chuckle, placing the colorful books in one of your reusable bags.

Anya reached out and patted Puck's haunches, and Puck stretched, making a "mrrp?" noise as she did. Stretching over Anya's torso (that was visible beneath her over-sized shirt that hung off one of her shoulders) was a mark that looked almost like flames. You were absolutely transfixed by it.

"'S not ink, if that's what you're wondering." She winked at you.

Your face flushed, and you rubbed the back of your neck, embarrassed that you were caught staring. "Oh, I just... It's just so..."

"Eye-catchin'? Yeah, I know." She grinned. "I've had it since I was like, six."

"Oh! It's your mark?" You gasped.

"Yep! I like it, honestly. Rather cool and adds to my whole aesthetic." Anya laughed. "You can imagine my mum's reaction when she woke me up for school one day and I have a freakin' big arse mark that looks like some sorta phoenix. You should've seen the look on my teacher! Oh, man. She about died!"

Anya petted Puck again. "You've got a really sweet cat, here. She's really calm."

"Oh, Puck? She's actually not my pet, if you can believe that!" You chuckle, watching as Puck soaked up the attention like a little fluffy sponge.

"She's not?" Anya blinked on reply. "Then whose is she?"

"I'm not sure," You answer truthfully. "She just comes around, disappears for a while, and comes back. I love her company, though. She's a real sweetie."

"Man, I've always wanted a cat. I wonder if I can talk my mum into getting a cat?" She mused.

"Oh, I recommend it. My dad always had cats growing up." You chuckle. "He'd feed the strays on our property, would get them vaccinated, build little hutches for the winter... We also had one or two in the house as our pets. Always had a black one, like Puck here."

You sigh wistfully, playfully poking Puck's belly as she rolled over and showed the pudge to Anya, who cooed at her cute behavior.

"So I guess I have a soft spot for little voids, they remind me of my dad."

"Oh, man, void cats are the best. I love watching videos of them online! They just look like giant polka dots with eyes!" The young woman giggled with glee, happily rubbing Puck's belly.

You'd finished ringing her up and she gladly paid, saying as she left, "I'll have to come back and get more of these for the kids. Thanks!"

"Anytime, sweets!" You say to her as she happily walked out into the dreary weather.

You looked at Puck, your chin in your palm as you snorted at her. She turned her head and stretched, moseying over to you and headbutting your chin, before pulling back and giving you a slow blink.

"Maybe I should get you some of those talking buttons, eh, Puck? I'd sure love to hear what you're thinking!" You sigh at her. Puck merely purred in response.

You were still blissfully unaware of the goddess still inhabiting the space of your shop, watching you with a fond smile.

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Chapter 8: Link

#moon knight #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #steven grant #jake lockley #marc spector #layla el faouly #taweret #soulmate au #soulmates

[thatbxolivia]

AKDKDJ WHOEVER 🩰 ANON IS YOUR IDEA IS 🔥

mommy!reader x little!anakin

summary- you and anakin are both switches and while you’re usually the regressed one, you put yourself into a caregiving role when your partner returns from a particularly difficult mission. he feels broke and needs your help putting the pieces together again.

——————

the thing about anakin was he didn’t like to talk about his emotions. not because he didn’t have them, he just found it difficult to articulate what bothered him at any given time. usually things didn’t get to him. sure, he’d been sad before. he’d seen awful things and acknowledged them as atrocities, but never felt any type of way over them. especially after losing what little family he had and being desensitized to violence, credit to the clone wars.

today was different.

as he returned home, you noticed the sag in his shoulders and red & puffy eyes. you didn’t realize what was happening at first, but quickly realized.

today was not your day to be cared for and doted on, it would be his.

“anakin? what’s wrong?” you asked, concern evident in your voice. he shrugged.

“it’s fine, little one. i just… need a second.” he said, slumping off to the bathroom and closing the door behind him. you heard the sound of the lock clicking and sighed, beginning to straighten up the apartment. you had a feeling you knew where this was headed, and you would be ready and be there for him. you laid out comfortable clothes for him, not pulling out pajamas as you wanted to ease him into his headspace. you wouldn’t dive right in so why would you expect him to?

he came out of the bathroom looking defeated and made eye contact with you, immediately breaking down in tears and running to you.

“what happened, baby?” you asked, rubbing his back like he would for you. the two of you sat and you gave him a side hug this time, his head in the space between your neck and shoulder.

“it was a mother and a baby. they were innocent. the droids just mowed them down like they were nothing. i see it all the time, i don’t know why this one specifically is getting to me. maybe because i saw it actually happen? i usually just see the aftermath but now i actually saw it and i can’t go back out there-“ he ranted and you cut him off, shushing him gently.

“breathe.” you told him. “i got you. you don’t have to go back, say the word and we’ll leave. i’d do anything for you.” you said. he sobbed, holding onto you tighter. “why don’t we get you dressed, baby, and then we’ll just spend time together?” you asked and he nodded. you let him calm down from his tears before you helped him take his cloak off and hung it up as he discarded the rest of his clothing, getting dressed into comfier wear. you placed his day clothes aside.

“thank you for helping me, i’m sorry if it’s too much for you. i can stop…” he trailed off, looking down.

“baby, who’s always here for you?” you asked and he looked back at you.

“you are, mama.” he said, pulling you in for a hug. you squeezed him tight and rubbed his back again.

“that’s right. i’m always here for you.” you reassured him, standing on your tippy toes to give him a kiss on the forehead. he loved your kisses. “now let’s go spend some time together and enjoy each others company, what do you say?” you asked and he nodded.

you walked him back to the living room as he sat on the floor between your legs and you sat on the couch. you massaged his head as the two of you watched his favorite cartoon. you took a small break from rubbing his head to wrap his blanket around him, one you had hand crocheted for him in multicolor yarn. it was his absolute favorite. you went back to rubbing his head and sighed happily.

you loved being in this headspace when it was needed. you loved being able to reciprocate the love and affection he’s always shown you. you loved being his mama ♥️

#fanfic #archive of our own #star wars agere #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker #star wars anakin #little!anakin #mommy!reader

[reniqt]

── ENHYPEN; 🫧 ֺ ׅ ⋆ WHEN U SEND A PICTURE OF YOURSELF

★ warning: none !!

☆ pairings: enhypen x fem!r ◦ g: fluff, humor ?

LEE HEESEUNG. — “god, she’s crazy.”

he’d be one of those people that immediately switch their phone to the other hand?? LMAO, I dont know, I feel like heeseung would have hearts for eyes the moment he opens the picture, instantly being washed over your beauty. :(( he’s so HEE😉 over heels for you to the point he’d do that ‘run fingers over his hair’ movement while trying to act cool, holding back the biggest smile. </3 and who knows? he could be half asleep in bed, but as soon as he opens your picture, he’s smiling like an idiot to himself and constantly moving around in bed from excitement. he’d be the type to place two hands over his face whilst trying to hide the redness across his cheeks, whispering countless compliments; she’s driving me insane, smiling his thoughts away with a squeeze of his pillow. <33

PARK JONGSEONG. — “why are you so pretty?”

jay would definitely be the secretive type. he could just be casually walking in the neighborhood, scrolling through his phone like any other person would—right until you send him a photo of yourself. what happens next? it only takes one second for him to still in his footsteps, his mind already going wild at the sight of you. he’d place a hand over his mouth in shock, unnoticed of the pink tint that adorned both his ears and cheeks, and how obvious it was to the public. maybe he’d gain a few laughs from the surrounding figures, but he didn’t care. jay would willingly and absolutely adore saving photos of you as sources of comfort, or even better; happiness. even though he seemed like a weirdo from afar, falling in love with how mesmerizing you looked, it didn’t matter. that photo was for him, and him ONLY, that’s what mattered. <33

SIM JAEYUN. — “I miss her so much.”

jake, himself, doesn’t even know if he’d be able to handle your photos or not. once you’re spamming him pictures of yourself, he’s running laps around his room ( not really ) but doesn’t that explain his love enough? jake would probably send multiple love texts back :(( saying how much he misses you, wants you in his arms, or just overflowing compliments of how cute you look. </33 or, in other words, he’d be dying from your beauty. maybee he’d be a little dramatic about it, showing off how gorgeous you looked to his friends and bragging how lucky he is to have you as his girlfriend. :( god, he’d be showering you with love each day, taking every picture he’s given as a blessing. you really have no idea how much jake loves you, and he’d tell you everyday if he could. <33

PARK SUNGHOON. — “what the fuck am I doing.”

how would I even say this? sunghoon—he’d?…kiss the phone LMAO. now he really wouldn’t want you to take this in a weird way, I think the poor boy has an incredibly hard time expressing his love for you as a boyfriend. now you know how much of a shy flirt he is. :( he’d tell you you’re beautiful, but secretly end up zooming in on your photo to elegantly peck his phone as a way to show he’s missed you, but you know what? he’d be a total mess right after, slowly processing what the fuck he’s just done and shoving his face in pillow out of embarrassment; calling himself dumbass, stupid, an idiot. he’d be so flustered seconds after, taking him quite awhile to message you back. 😭 once he’s finished that extremely awkward moment to himself, he promised himself he’d just hug the phone instead?? <33

KIM SUNOO. — “wait for me.”

sunoo would be giggling his butt off the moment you send a few photos of yourself, eyes lit with joy as he continues kicking his legs, holding back squeals of happiness at your undying beauty. he’d fall in love with you over and over again if he could, and that was all he needed. :(( your photos were a strike of motivation for him, whether it would be skipping down the hallways, or just a sign for him to smile. sunoo could be having the worst night ever, but just a simple photo of you was enough to complete him. all of a sudden he’s butterflies and rainbows, already preparing his bags to come over and wrap you in his arms, already missing the warmth of your comfort. luckily, a photo of you was only the start of it. <3

YANG JUNGWON. — “y/n, oh my god.”

jungwon could send a simple text back saying; cute when in reality, it was—quite? the opposite, actually. just the ordinary notification of you sending an image makes him go crazy, instantly sitting up with excitement. his eyes would go wide, strangely, yet admirably gazing into your orbs as if he’s just witnessed another ‘love at first sight’ feeling. jungwon wished he could tell you how much he secretly enjoyed pictures of yourself, but all that came out were stutters and broken love notes, making him wanna hide right after again. maybe he’d play it cool at first, but god, as much as dry jungwon seems to be, he wants to let you know he loves it so much. it’s to the extent he’d set the photo as his lockscreen, blooming with happiness each time he opens his phone. <33

NISHIMURA RIKI. — “you’re so cute, do it again.”

I feel like riki would enjoy teasing you each time you did, purposely telling you it was a bad angle and making you send photo after photo, secretly saving each and every one of them. he’d hide the part where his cheeks were practically red, and how strong of an urge it was for him to merely throw his phone at how beautiful you were, but at this point, riki just adores everything about you. even though he could be laughing his ass off about how funny you looked, he’d tell you that was the most cutest part about you. how much you made him laugh, smile, scream into his pillow, he found it so…unique. he’d cherish your photos forever, repeatedly checking his camera roll in case he misses you; ( which is all the time ) but can you blame him? he loves you. <33

-

© reniqt — all rights reserved

how do I even?? 400??? god :(( it seems like we’ve made it in an blink of an eye, and I can’t thank all 400+ of you for helping me reach this far <33 it seems like a dream, really. thank you. all of you. 🫶

permtlist: @enhacolor @certainyouthpeanut @hiqhkey @szniki @wtfhyuck @love-4-keum @simjack @w3bqrl @tzyuki

#ficscafe #enhypen #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen x y/n #enhypen x you #enhypen x reader #enhypen x female reader #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #enhypen reactions #enha reactions #heeseung x y/n #heeseung x you #heeseung x reader #heeseung angst #heeseung fluff #jay x y/n #jake x y/n #sunghoon x y/n #sunoo x y/n #niki x y/n #jay x you #jay x reader #jake x you #jake x reader #jungwon x y/n #jungwon x you #jungwon x reader #sunghoon x you