#their entire job is to INFLUENCE you and youre taking their word for it

[winedarkthoughts]

house of addams (1)

— 🌖 pairing: ot7 x fem.reader

— 🕷️ genre: mystery, angst + fluff + smut

— 🗝️ word count: 4.3k

— 🍄 summary: hired to look into the mysterious deaths, disappearances, and disturbances in the small town of Farrow's End, you soon meet a certain gang of oddballs who help you connect the dots. and NO, you are NOT taking a liking to them.

— ☕ content warnings: private investigator!reader, cozy small town mystery/addams family vibes, botanist!yoongi, magical absurdity, bookshop owner!namjoon, barista!jin

— 🕸️ a/n: first chapter! directly influenced by this fic on ao3 by tinyratthief, which is loosely based on the addams family.

series m.list/schedule → next chapter

chpt. 1: new digs

september 16, 2004

If this job has taught you one thing, it’s that the laws of truth can and will be bent by anyone with enough concentrated effort. People come to you to find very specific truths; birth parents, cheating spouses, the details of shady business deals.

But if this job has taught you one thing, it's that the truth will also reveal itself to anyone with enough concentrated effort.

Though, there's always a handful of cases that force you to delve deep into things you’d rather leave buried. Like the person in Oregon who didn't show up in any photographs. Or the small town in Maryland with the strange, centuries-old secret society.

You’ve seen sides of human nature that have left you cynical, distrusting. Some have called you “dead inside,” but you’re not here to brag. Naturally, you are excellent at your job.

And when the Mayor of Farrow’s End, a sleepy town with enough missing persons cases to warrant a Netflix documentary, contacted you about a possible case, you accepted almost instantly.

Even her first correspondence and initial offer were strange. She stated a preference to discuss the finer details in person and in person only, which to you immediately suggested that the entire investigation would be a matter of confidentiality.

You were proven right when you met with her a week later. And while being proven right is usually one of your favorite things, you didn’t exactly expect this.

The offer: investigative services regarding (but not limited to) local missing persons/homicides, ecological disturbances, environmental chemical imbalances. etc.

In exchange for: monthly salary, rent support, covered business expenses.

And above all, everything must remain off the books.

The salary along with the rent support is very generous considering what you're used to, but you don’t tell the Mayor that. You do inform her that, while you wear many hats, you are not an ecologist, nor a chemist.

Mayor Summerbee, a middle-aged Asian woman with a sweet smile and even warmer eyes, informs you that you will have access to the local University’s college of natural sciences. She gives you the contact information for one Min Yoongi, a botanist who works in the school's research department.

Then she gives you the contact information for one Kim Taehyung, the town coroner and pathologist. Apparently, both of them will be available for consultation.

She is eager, maybe even desperate, smiling at you with an urgent sheen in her eyes.

When you accept her offer, shaking her hand with your usual firm grip, she seems to exhale in relief.

You move to Farrow’s End by the end of the week. It’s not as if you have much to move, just a trunkful of books and a handful of duffel bags. You’ve always moved around for work, and even if you didn’t, staying in one place for too long makes you nervous.

Your bags hit the pavement beside your boots as you survey your new home. It's a small, quaint house. The paint is faded but the architectural structure is sturdy. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, kitchen, living room. The whole place is in a slight state of disrepair, but you can't complain.

You spend the next day cleaning and unpacking, which doesn't take long since you leave most of your books in the trunk. You're exploring the town by the end of the afternoon.

The town square, though full of shops and businesses, is nearly barren. A few civilians putter around, their faces weathered and reflective of the gloom in the air. They stare at you as you pass by, a cocktail of curiosity and slight suspicion.

The next thing you notice is the posters. They're everywhere, on the crumbling brick walls, stuck on lampposts, taped to the windows, all displaying a variety of subjects. Events at the University, local night markets, antiques for sale.

But there are a few that stick out. THERE'S SOMETHING IN THE LAKE! Sign the petition to restrict land access →

HAVING STRANGE DREAMS? You're not alone, contact a psychic today!

BEWARE! DO NOT FEED LOCAL WILDLIFE.

Though, what's more strange to you is what you don't see. There are barely any missing person posters, and the few that you do see appear to have been ripped away.

Work begins now, you think to yourself as you snap some photos of several posters, flapping in the cold wind.

You pop into the general store to pick up some essentials, and the store clerk immediately recognizes that you're not a local.

He asks where you're from, you reply with the standard answer: a city not too far but not too close. He asks what you're doing here, you reply with the standard answer: you're a journalist. You add in the suggestion that you're working with the University about a story, and he doesn't question any further.

You're not sure if it's because he takes the hint or because he loses interest.

During the drive home, you notice something looming in the distance. Atop the highest hill is a dark house, with spires and towers rising from the tops of spindly trees. Even from here, you can see that the architecture is old and ornate, almost ancient in a hypnotic way. You're fairly certain you can see a murder of crows circling above.

An unusual feeling hangs around the house, like there's some kind of aura surrounding it. Welcoming some, yet blocking others.

Very strange indeed.

You spend the rest of the night huddled next to the fireplace, using the flickering orange light to skim over newspaper clippings.

No, the house does not have a heating system. But you don't mind too much, you have plenty of wood and warm clothes.

Five missing and three dead in the last year. Local law enforcement has done everything they could with what they had to work with, which apparently wasn't much. Scattered locations, no visible connection between the victims, and an alarming lack of evidence.

Eyelids heavy, you leave the papers scattered across the floor and head to bed, already looking forward to tomorrow's first coffee.

september 17, 2004

The University appears to be just as old as the rest of the town. Original wood, aged stone, curved iron accents. The brick walkway is slick with morning rain, and the sky is swirling with fog.

Perfect weather, it makes you ready to get to work.

The directory stated that Min Yoongi would be in Montgomery Hall, the natural sciences building, either in the greenhouse or in one of the labs, according to the TA you talked to earlier on the phone.

It takes some wandering, but what you like about this place is that people don't seem to notice your presence as much as they do in town. Out there, you're an easily identifiable outsider. Here, you're just another passerby with a purpose.

You find him in one of the lab rooms, tucked into a little nook that's encased with plastic sheeting, dotted with beads of moisture. The small space is crowded with greenery, big pots of tall plants with fanning leaves, draping vines from wall planters, seedlings in little trays.

Through the condensation dripping down the plastic walls, you can see that he's spraying the plants down with water, wearing a classic white coat.

You're indulging in your bad habit again. Your footsteps are notoriously quiet (you've been told), and you (apparently) have a tendency to sneak up on people and observe them for several minutes before they notice that you are there.

But it's a skill you delight in.

The man is of average height, thin, black hair, delicate features. You notice that the soles of his boots are caked with mud, and his skin is dewy from the humidifiers pumping moisture into the room.

"You already know my opinion on this," you hear him say, muffled by the spray of the water.

For a moment, you think he's talking to you, that he's rejecting your case before you've even presented it to him. But he isn't facing you, and his tone is decidedly casual, like he's talking to an old friend.

"It's bad for the others, anyway," he continues. "Don't wiggle your trigger hairs at me like that."

A pause, the water flow stops. Then a sigh of defeat.

"Fine, one puff. Then you quit pouting, got it?"

There's the sound of shuffling, then the fwick of a lighter being ignited.

Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you step forward to peer through the slit in the plastic sheeting.

There's a Venus fly trap on one of the shelves, and between the jaws of one of the trap mouths, is a lit cigarette.

The man's head piques up when you enter his field of vision. Eyes widening, he looks like a cat that's been caught off guard.

He looks between you and the plant several times. You're fairly certain you see the tip of the cigarette glow ember, as if the plant were actually inhaling.

The man snatches the cigarette away and crushes it beneath the wet sole of his boot.

"Nasty habit," he finally says with a nervous chuckle. An awkward, straight-mouthed smile crosses his face, making his cheeks puff out slightly.

"Min Yoongi?" you ask.

"Yes, ma'am," he responds politely.

"I'm ______," you say, holding out a hand to shake.

He shuffles forward, his cold slim fingers meeting yours.

"Ah, the mayor mentioned that you'd be around."

That throws you a bit, because from what you've gathered about this case, you assumed that the mayor didn't want to be associated with it.

"Yes, would you mind filling me in on some of the ecological disturbances that have been going on in town?"

It's as if the question sends ants crawling down his spine. His neutral smile dissipates into an anxious twitch of his lips. He turns the hose back on and resumes spritzing the plants.

"What do you want to know?" he asks, a new tension in his voice.

Odd.

"Well," you start, "The mayor tells me that locals have been complaining about strange mushrooms invading their yards, increased acidity in their soil. Would you know anything about that?"

His eyebrows are knitted as he dampens the leaves of a spiraling fern.

"Mushrooms are really just the fruit of fungi, they bloom like flowers when the conditions are just right. Moisture, shade, an abundance of organic material, stuff like that. When it comes to the acidity, there's a variety of factors. All the rainfall recently leads to leaching, and the increased use of fertilizers causes nitrification. It's pretty standard."

You raise an eyebrow. He's deflecting.

"People have been saying that these mushrooms have been particularly hard to get rid of."

Yoongi 's brows furrow as if he's thinking hard.

"Fungi are tricky like that. We don't know much about them, really. They're their own class of life form. It could be a particularly stubborn strain."

"There's also been some unusual plant growth, creeping vines or the like. Very resistant to herbicides, apparently."

He pauses, considers it.

"Hmm," he mutters, the nozzle of the hose going lax in his hand.

“Also,” you continue, trying to further engage his curiosity. “There's been several cases of strange root rot?”

You add a questioning tone to your voice, gauging his reaction. Apparently, he hasn’t heard about it, because he looks up at you with the same question in his eyes.

“Root rot? In household plants?” he asks.

“No, in residencies.”

Yoongi stares at you for a moment, and you can tell he’s intrigued.

“I would benefit a lot from your knowledge, if I could just bring you a few samples, maybe go out and do some fieldwork—”

“You wouldn’t like working with me,” Yoongi interrupts. “I’m very…particular.”

You have a feeling the word is meant as a substitute for something else.

“Wonderful, so am I,” you reply, digging one of the many notebooks out of your bag. Flipping to the calendar, you click open your open your pen and start scribbling.

“Mornings are best, get the most out of the daylight. Make sure to bring your equipment and something to write on, and a camera if you have one.”

“Wait, I just don’t know if I’m going to be much use to you,” Yoongi says a little nervously, sticking his hands in his pockets.

You pause your scribbling to look at him. He’s pale in the fluorescent light, but not just physically. He has pale mannerisms and pale expressions, the countenance of a person that doesn’t feel as if they belong.

You know the feeling well.

“Coffee is always on me. How do you like it?” you say instead.

“Does Wednesday work?”

september 18, 2004

Three dead and five missing in less than six months. First, Michael Bradley, aged forty-two. Cause of death: chronic poisoning/exposure to toxic chemicals. He was found in his garage surrounded by household cleaners and herbicides. Apparently he’d been trying to get rid of the same strange mushrooms in his yard.

For now, all you have to work with is what they’ve published in the newspapers, and it seems that all that's come out of it is a public service announcement warning homeowners to be careful around toxic chemicals. His wife, Mary Bradley, hasn't commented on the circumstances of her husband’s death. And no one else has inquired any further into the matter.

Until today, obviously. Mrs. Bradley didn't answer her phone, and when you knocked on her door earlier this morning, she seemed less than pleased.

You opened with the standard introduction: I'm a journalist working on a story, would you mind consenting to an interview? Mrs. Bradley narrowed her eyes and scanned you up and down with barely concealed suspicion.

She asked what a journalist would find interesting about a common, accidental death in a small town. Apparently, the citizens of Farrow's End are very perceptive to outsiders.

You mentioned that fact that although Bradley's death appeared accidental, it's not common for people to die at the hands of household chemicals from prolonged exposure. Chronic poisoning is rarely without symptoms, why didn't he go to hospital?

She didn't have anything to say to that. You asked if she'd be comfortable divulging some of the details of his death, maybe even giving you access to the autopsy report. But she just grimaced at the mention, insisting that she had nothing to say about the matter and that you should leave right away.

She slammed the door in your face, but luckily it wasn't the first time people have resisted your questions. Unfortunately, a significant part of your job involves being a pain in the ass.

You linger in the front yard, where it's impossible not to notice the gnarled tree stumps and large rings of mushrooms scattered across the lawn.

You're not a mycologist by any means, but even you can tell that these mushrooms are strange. They seem to be multicolored, red and orange and brown, changing depending on the light like a hologram, but without any of the shine. They aren't bulb-shaped like many other mushrooms, but twist in tendrils this way and that, stretching.

And a smell hangs about them. You can't really describe it, something like damp and musk and old meat. Standing there, breathing them in, for too long makes your head spin.

And the trees, or rather, what's left of them. Nothing but stumps now, but you can tell that they were old when they were cut down. There's that same multi-colored effect to them, except it runs in veins throughout the tree's bark, spiraling into the rings.

You'll have to ask Yoongi about it.

Curiosity nips at you like a non-venomous snake even after you're home. It's not deadly, but it sure as hell is annoying.

What kind of disease infects fungi and trees? Why would the mayor care about privately investigating such a thing? And a thousand other questions.

You shove your boots on and enter back into the chill. You remember seeing a bookstore in town.

The Magic Shop: Books and Oddities

The front window glows with warm light, crowded with displayed volumes and curiosities (a stuffed raven, a jar of yellowing teeth, insects encased in amber).

The door swings open with the ring of a bell. Someone calls out "Welcome in," in a deep-velvet voice.

The smell of parchment and aged leather envelopes you like a familiar hug. You can't help pausing in the doorway and inhaling deeply. No matter what city you're in, places like this always feel like home.

It's everything that a bookstore should be: crowded, mysterious, and slightly dusty. The shelves are tightly grouped and arranged like a labyrinth few are privy to, and stacks—no, towers—of books occupy every corner.

You enter into the space, feet padding on the braided rugs, eyes drinking in the details. There are labels on the shelves, haphazardly spaced. They start normal enough: gardening, self-help, adventure.

But then you realize that they branch off into even more labels, or rather sub-labels. There's nocturnal gardening, gardening under the influence, Faerie gardens and goblin gardens. Each labeled sub-genre branches into even more specific sub-categories, creating a seemingly endless array of subjects.

You could explore this place for hours. In fact, you intend to over the course of your stay in Farrow's End.

You spend an indeterminate amount of time exploring all the labels and categories. The shelves twist this way and that, creating little nooks where the occasional armchair is tucked into.

Eventually, you come to a more open area with a wide-sprawling desk. The man sitting behind it is tall and tan, glasses perched on his nose, with short chestnut hair that shifts golden in the candlelight.

He's deeply focused on the book in his hands: A Comprehensive Guide to Navigating Parallel Universes and Pocket Dimensions.

Typically, you hate to bother people in a bookstore, especially if they're already reading. It's supposed to be a space for quiet reflection, for self-exploration and uninterrupted browsing. But you still have a job to do, and it's clear that you won't be able to navigate the complicated system yourself. At least, not in a concise period of time.

So you square your shoulders and prepare yourself to address the (handsome, you notice) man at the counter.

"Excuse me," you begin in a hushed voice.

The man's head whips up, as if he completely forgot there was another person here.

"Yes?" He says in that same deep voice, friendly and eager. "Do you need help finding something?" It sounds like he can't quite believe the fact. This place must not get many customers.

"Yes, if you don't mind."

His face lights up as if nothing would delight him more.

"Do you have anything on unusual mushrooms?" you ask.

The man sets down his book and slips out from behind the desk. "Hmm..." he mumbles to himself, expertly weaving between the shelves while you hurry to catch up.

"Let's see here..." he says, passing a wall draped with vines from a hanging planter, like the ones in Yoongi's lab, you notice.

"Fungi," he mutters, fingertips ghosting over the shelves. The sections under Fungi are vast and wide-ranging. Poisons & Antidotes, Moss & Lichens, Carnivorous, Aberrations.

He pauses at that last one, eyes flitting between the volumes.

"Anything specific?" he asks.

You debate on how much to disclose, but with the several cases of strange fungi in people's yards, it's probably common small town knowledge by now.

"Anything about an unusual fungus with...tendrils?" You can't help the hesitation, you're not sure if it's a common feature among mushrooms.

Apparently, it's not as unusual as you thought, because the man only nods and shifts his attention to one of the lower shelves. His slim fingers finally land on an old cloth-bound book with a red toadstool on the spine. There's no title on the cover, but the man seems to be familiar with it.

"Here you go," he says, handing it to you. "I think you'll find what you're looking for in this one."

He says it with the confidence of someone who's read every book in the building front to back. A very specific part of your brain tells you that this fact is almost certainly true.

"Thank you very much," you say, turning the book over in your hands.

"My pleasure," he replies, and means it.

"How much?"

He guides you back to the counter and rings it up for a very good price.

You're itching to ask questions, but you're not sure where to start.

The man places the book into a brown paper bag printed with Magic Shop Books and Oddities and hands it to you with a warm smile.

You lose your nerve and take the bag in silence. Then, as if he could smell the fragmented thoughts darting around in your skull, he says, "Be careful in the woods."

You look at him. There's the same friendly smile, but now with a hint of good-natured curiosity.

"If you're going mushroom hunting, I mean," he adds.

You stare at him for perhaps too long.

"Thanks," you say, dropping a generous tip into the jar next to the register.

"Hope to see you again," he calls out as you exit through the front door.

A moth to flame, bees to honey. Insert: you to coffee shops with perfect ambient lighting. You spot it just as you're leaving the narrow alley that leads to the bookshop.

Turning the corner onto a cobblestone walkway, you catch sight of the cafe windows, slick with the recent rain. But from what you can see through the glass, it looks like a warm, cozy place.

Glancing at the front door, you notice an OPEN sign, even though it's quite late. You're opening the door and stepping inside before you're even conscious of it.

The interior reflects the same aged aesthetic as the exterior, dark wood and brick and brass accents. But the kitchen area houses clean chrome appliances, and there are shelves stacked with white dishes behind them. Golden light warms a glass case fully stocked with a manner of pastries, breads, and other nibbles, all of which still seem to be steaming hot.

You immediately decide that you like this place.

"Good evening," a pleasant voice calls, though you can't yet identify the speaker.

The smell of steam and freshly-ground coffee beans becomes richer as you approach the counter. You can hear someone puttering around in the back room.

You glance at the menu's wide selection, and when you look back at the counter, a man is standing right in front of you.

You don't scare easily, but it's enough to make you jump a little.

"What can I get you?" the man asks cheerfully. He's tall and slim, wearing a white button-up and black slacks under an apron. Brown hair, dark eyes, and a full smiling mouth.

You order a coffee and a pastry.

"What time do you close?" you ask, wanting to sit down and enjoy the atmosphere but also not wanting to be the asshole that settles in just before closing.

"On Wednesdays we close at noon, otherwise we're open twenty-four hours," he replies, sounding delighted by rather than annoyed by the fact.

A twenty-four hour coffee shop? You really like this place.

He must see your eyebrows raise in surprise, because then he proudly adds, "Only one in town."

Pleasantly surprised, you look around the shop to assess the seating options. There are booths tucked along the walls, a few tables and chairs, and a few plush-looking armchairs near the windows.

"Please, have a seat and make yourself at home. I enjoy the company," the man says as he makes your drink.

You take him up on it, settling into one of the chairs by the frosted glass of the window. It's then that you take a closer look at the book the shop owner recommended.

A fraying cloth-bound cover, a red toadstool instead of a title. Inside, a table of contents. First, a bit of basic mycology, which you greatly benefit from. Immediately after, a range of mutations, circumstances, and environmental factors that caused the direct disturbance to said mycology.

You get lost in it quite easily, sipping your drink (which is expertly brewed) and nibbling your pastry (which is almost too delicious for words). You know that you'll be spending a considerable amount of time here throughout your stay in Farrow's End.

The book cites several case studies, all suggesting that a new strain of fungus is not only spreading rapidly, but infecting all other strains it has access to.

You read on, only momentarily distracted by the occasional customers that enter into the establishment. Like the group of students, most likely from the University, who order a large batch of espresso to-go. Or the old man who orders a sandwich and black coffee and sits outside despite the late-night chill.

You don't realize it, but you read on until the early morning. The first few faint, pale rays of sunlight stretch across your current page through the window, and you jerk to attention when you realize what time it is.

Not that you have somewhere in particular to be today. But you've always liked to get a jump on things early on in the investigation. And you have better luck getting interviews during the day.

You had no idea that time was passing so quickly. This place seems to have an air of particular tranquility, the kind that only a handful of coffee shops are able to achieve. It's the feeling of finding a quiet place after being overstimulated for hours.

You take your dishes to the counter, drop a tip into the jar, and step into the morning chill.

Exhaustion sets in on the journey home, and you crash moments after your head hits the pillow.

The dreams start that night.

a/n: thanks so much for reading!! love to hear any of ur thoughts 👉👈

NEXT CHAPTER RELEASE: 05/08/24

#bts ot7 #ot7 x reader #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts mystery #bts x fem!reader #bts series #bts f #bts fic #bts angst #bts fluff

[gojoest]

MARKED MINE — gojo satoru

MDNI, f! reader, established relationship, alcohol (you’re both little bit drunk but there’s consent), pet names (baby, pretty, love), unprotected sex, clothed sex (reader wears a dress), creampie, spit play, piss play (unforeseen), he marks you like a dog (pees in u....), vv brief mention of implied period sex/oral in the past, lmk if i missed anything, 1.7k+ words of pure p*rn without plot

it was special and intimate. satoru laughed the first time it happened.

you came back home from a night out, both of you a little bit under the influence of alcohol. you barely unlocked the door — being precise with your movements while drunk was tricky, especially when you had to insert a key into the lock, and even more when your boyfriend was a bit of a dickhead and made sure to mock you as much as he could while you were trying to unlock the door — snorting at how you couldn’t find the hole, that it was his job to poke inside and not yours, that he could find it with his eyes closed because you trained him so good — all while feeling you up from behind with his hard-on pushing out the crotch of his slacks, rubbing between your ass cheeks.

after a few minutes of struggling, you finally managed to unlock, and the second you stepped in and closed the door — you were pinned against it, his hands slipping under your dress only to grab your ass and lift you over his groin as you gripped on his shoulders for support. you could feel his hardness against your clothed cunt, already sensing that his big balls had a nice load for you in there.

“you are so pretty”, satoru whispered as his lips brushed against yours. “ how do you know — the lights are off”, you breathed into his mouth, putting one hand at the back of his neck, your nails giving a little scratch on his undercut, the sensation making him hiss.

“you know”, he pushed his hips slightly forward, his tip pressing against your clothed cunt, “i don’t have to look — i can smell you already. you always smell so beautiful”

your pussy was already wet and prepared. and he knew that, you were leaking copious amounts through your panties on his clothed crotch. he could feel it, smell it in the air.

“say.. can i fuck you, baby?”, satoru asked, one of his hands loosened the grip on your ass before letting go completely. his arm muscles bulged even more against your palm as he held your entire weight with a single hand while the other worked on unbuckling his pants to take his throbbing cock out. “look”, he gave it a few slow pumps, “can you see how bad i want you right now?”

“dickhead.. i can’t see anything”, you spoke, trying not to moan from the musky scent hitting your nostrils, “but i can smell you, too”

“so, what do you say — do you want this dick head?”

“mhm”, you only hummed, your mind too clouded to form a coherent comeback, and it wasn’t the alcohol to blame.

“hold tight then”, the hand he was touching himself with earlier went back to gripping your ass again. you wrapped your legs around his waist and he carried you to the bedroom.

he threw you on the bed and hovered his huge frame over yours. you both were still with your clothes on — neither of you wanting to waste precious time undressing, only getting rid of what was in the way — he lifted your dress up and pulled your panties to the side while you helped him push his slacks down below his ass.

satoru leaned in closer, his tip swirling around your entrance, “fuck”, he hissed at the sensation, “can’t wait to be in you”

one of his hands came to your jaw as his mouth covered yours, pulling and sucking on your tongue, trying to reach down your throat. it felt like he was devouring you. when he pulled back to take a breath, trails of saliva dripped from his mouth and onto your chin. he wiped it with his thumb, then slid it into your mouth, smearing his liquid on the tip of your tongue.

“open big for me, love”, he said in a low voice. you complied without a second thought, your body acted on its own — not only did you open your mouth but also spread your legs wider, inviting him in both up and down.

your eyes were already adapted to the darkness, the moonlight creeping in from the window helped you see his face better. you could distinguish the spit building in the corners of his mouth and, shortly after, a huge glob of drool rolled from his lips into your open mouth, sliding over your teeth and coating your tongue. you didn’t swallow it immediately but held it in the back of your throat, feeling it slide around, tasting it. it almost felt like your mouth was your pussy and his spit was his precum, sliming up inside you.

“swallow it, baby”, he whispered, eyes fixated on your neck, anticipating to witness his spit go down your throat. but you didn’t, not yet at least. instead, you placed your hands on his ass cheeks and pushed him against your cunt — a way of saying “i’ll only listen if you put it in”.

“fuck”, he hissed, his body shuddered slightly. he almost just came but managed to hold it back, he wanted to fuck you good, just how you wanted. but it messed with him when you were being needy, which almost always made it harder for him to last long.

“your wish is my command, baby”, satoru used one hand to line up his cock with your entrance, rubbing the head across your pussy lips, parting them and pressing against your opening. it was only then that you finally swallowed his spit and opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out for proof.

your actions made him groan and he entered you in one hard and unapologetic thrust, heavily ramming his entire cock inside you in one go, forcing you to stretch and open unexpectedly. he pushed so hard it pressed your body harder into the mattres, almost driving the air out of your lungs.

“shit”, you cried out, your mouth remained open as you tried to adjust yourself to his size that forced itself all the way in with eagerness never seen before.

“sorry, pretty”, satoru let out a low groan, his hand wiping the sweat off your forehead, “but it’s your fault, you make a mad man out of me”, he chuckled breathily as he started darting in and out of you, slowly increasing the intensity of his pounding, pulling only about half of his cock out and then burying all of it back in, bolting pleasure all through your system. as his lower body collided with yours, he leaned in to meet your mouth in a passionate kiss, leaving you breathless and filling the room with muffled pants.

your hands went to his well-toned ass, kneading a little and pushing him in time with his penetration all while your body met his every thrust, which made satoru whimper into the kiss. fine little shivers worked their way up and down his skin.

“i really… just… can’t… with you…”, he dragged out each word.

he was going harder now, delving in your depths, parting the swollen walls of your cunt as his cock fervently throbbed in and out of you. you weren’t sure if it was your own pulse throbbing in your vagina or the blue veins covering his cock pulsing inside you. either way it made you clench and suck him harder into your hole.

“satoru..”, you moaned, “you always feel so good”.

“damn, baby, so do you”, he moaned back, “your pussy is a perfect fit for my cock, no matter how many times i fuck you — it’s always magic”, he muttered before burying his head in the hollow space between your neck and shoulder.

his strokes grew more desperate, shorter and faster with each thrust now — it meant he was really close. but so were you.

his mushroom head continuously rammed into your sweet spot, causing a slight but delicious pain at the back of your pussy, and soon, your body started shuddering, hips bucking frantically against him as you came on his cock, moaning the pleasure out of your lungs — which was the last push he needed. it only took him one last thrust to reach his high — he groaned loudly as his cock pulsed and shivered inside you, splashing his hot creamy seed deep into your willing pussy.

“i love you... i love you…”, he repeatedly mumbled, face still buried in the crook of you neck.

but the movements of his hips didn’t stop. he was still pushing his cock inside you, squeezing the last drops of his cum, and even after he was dry and finished — he didn’t cease. the intense sensation subsided but he didn’t go entirely soft. his tip felt extremely sensitive, it both hurt and tickled him a little at the same time as he kept pressing gently into your cunt.

“it feels funny”, he sighed, slurring his words, “it’s like i’m about to pee”, he chuckled in disbelief.

“well”, you whispered into his ear, “let’s see how it goes”

“really?”

“really.”

the thought of him peeing in you didn’t disgust neither of you. at all. as insane as it might sound — it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. you were his and he was yours. you had already shared many things before — the good, the bad, laughter, pain, cum, spit, your period blood on his lips and cock — everything. so, sharing this too somehow made sense to both of you.

after your verbal consent, satoru picked up his rhythm, almost invoking it by force. his moans got louder, way louder than usual. you had never heard him pant like this before — it was new and it made your walls tighten around his now overly delicate dick, involuntarily sucking and holding him in.

droplets of sweat covered his body, he was unable to control his movements at this point — his body started shuddering when it started to release — a solid spray of his piss hit the inside of your cunt, flowing down deeper, fusing with his seed from earlier. your pussy was already spent but the sensation of his hot stream inside made you erupt into yet another orgasm.

“shit”, you both growled in unison, and soon after — he laughed heartily into the crook of your neck.

he laughed. he outright started grinning and giggling uncontrollably. from pure joy and ecstasy. he felt closer than ever to you now — after marking you like a dog marking his territory, he felt like he truly owned you.

“bad boy”, you sighed, as if you were scolding a puppy, “you made a mess”

“no”, he smugly replied, “i marked you mine, gave you my all — my spit, my cum, my piss — they’re all inside you now”

#ઈઉ — ai writes #[ ♡ ] — satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut

[jaeyunverse]

the 24-hour dating challenge

pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader

genres: fluff, crack, mutual pining, suggestive, best friends to lovers, influencer au

wc: 8145

warnings: profanity, hoon is a loser and down bad sawry, you can’t see the mutual pining but that’s a skill issue on my part bc i swear it’s there, fic is completely from sunghoon’s pov, this was supposed to be short and sweet but it got kinda spicy towards the end LMAOAO but nothing happens so dw!!

summary: being a famous youtuber isn’t easy, especially when you have to constantly come up with new ideas to keep your audience entertained. and this time, your viewers want you to date park sunghoon, your best friend of nearly a decade, for the entirety of 24 hours.

moodboard: one ☆ two

note: omg i didn’t think i would struggle w this oneshot but i lowkey did w the last part ☹️ i think it’s bc it has been a while since i raw dogged a fic HAHDHS anyway i hope the end doesn’t seem super abrupt and y’all enjoy! i would love to hear your thoughts + feedback :’)

inspiration: evelyn and fred (♡)

masterlist

“Your followers want me to do what?” 

Sunghoon was positive he’d misheard you. However, part of him hoped you’d confirm the life-altering information you’d casually uttered without even bothering to look away from the TV screen.

“Hoon!” you exclaimed, your fingers aggressively moving about the gaming console. “Oh, my God, they’re coming after me! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK—” you screeched— “Nonononono I can’t take them by myself! You testicle-guzzling cocksucker, why did you die when I needed you the most?!” 

Sunghoon watched you struggle warily. Your leg was bouncing with anxiety and your eyes were bulging out of their sockets. He wasn’t entirely sure you were breathing. Beads of sweat were clinging to your forehead, and your face was scrunched up in a weird, constipated expression. 

There was a good chance you’d utter fouler insults if he disturbed you while playing, but he couldn’t stop himself from broaching the subject. “Are we just going to pretend you didn’t say the thing you just said?” 

“The thing about you being a testicle-guzzling cocksucker?” you gritted. “No.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “The thing about your followers wanting us to date for a video.” 

For a few moments, you didn’t deign to acknowledge him. Then, as if a switch inside you had flipped, you pulled the TV’s plug and turned to face him. “Would it be weird?” 

Wow. Okay, Sunghoon mused. I think it would be a fantastic idea and a dream come true, but I don’t trust myself around you. Even as a mere friend.  

However, instead of voicing his thoughts, the boy simply shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ve been friends for several years now. I’m a regular on your YouTube channel and I think your fans are aware of the dynamics of our relationship. What do they mean when they say they want us to date? Physical intimacy aside, we already do everything couples do.” 

“I think they want us to be romantic,” you admitted. “Go on a date, hold hands, cross some lines.”

“Cross some lines?” Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lip curling in a smirk. “Is this you speaking or your subscribers?”

Groaning in exasperation, you shoved his shoulder. He fell back on the couch, laughing. “Shut up, dickface! You know I’ve been swamped this semester. My influencer gig has been seriously lacking. I need to step up—do what they want me to do. Besides, we only have to be girlfriend and boyfriend for 24 hours. It’s really not that big a deal. Are you in or not?”

Sunghoon took a few seconds to mull over your words. Sure, he would love to be your boyfriend for 24 hours. As long as his fantasies were brought to reality, he didn’t care if the whole relationship was fake and short-lived. 

For far too long, he’d pined after you. He thought he was doing an excellent job at hiding his feelings, but then you decided to make vlogs for fun. That’s when shit actually went downhill. 

Within a few years, you’d amassed a following of over 5 million on YouTube and 3 million on Instagram. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say you’d become somewhat of a local celebrity.  

Being one of your closest friends, Sunghoon was often featured in your videos. Initially, he’d baulked at the idea of being filmed, but you’d worked your magic on him. The boy soon found himself being comfortable around cameras. 

Even though Sunghoon never started his own YouTube channel, his popularity grew along with yours. His Instagram had garnered over two million followers, and courtesy of his good looks and attractive physique, he’d been offered a bunch of brand deals too.

You’d scowled at how far Sunghoon’s pretty privilege had gotten him. While you busted your ass coming up with unique ideas and editing your videos to perfection, all he needed to do was show up. 

What you didn’t know, though, was that part of the reason he’d become a heartthrob among the youth was you. 

You might have been dumb and blind, but your followers certainly were not. They’d realised how Sunghoon looked at you—his eyes always twinkled and a fond smile automatically adorned his lips whenever he caught sight of you. 

To add to that, your fans had pointed out habits he didn’t even know he possessed. For example: idly braiding your strands; bringing you snacks whenever he swung by your apartment; saying hey, sunshine and giving you a side hug by way of greeting; disguising his compliments as insults. 

The list was embarrassingly long.

They’d noticed the elastic he kept around his wrist at all times too—it was one of the two you’d used to tie his hair into little ponytails because you were convinced you could transform him into Boo from Monsters, Inc.   

Sunghoon himself had forgotten the reason he wore the elastic around his wrist. All he knew was that it was yours and it felt right. But when he read the comments obsessing about it, he rushed to watch the video your fans were referring to. 

And damn, they were right. 

Sunghoon didn’t know if you’d seen the comments your fans regularly left on your various social media pages. You’d never mentioned anything about the community calling you “couple goals,” and he was too much of a coward to inquire if you were aware. 

It was infuriating to know how transparent he was. Sunghoon wished he’d never gotten used to the camera and let slip his true self. 

Perhaps this was the cost of gaining the boyfriend material label—his unrequited feelings exposed for the entire world to see. 

Sunghoon would never admit it, but he’d spent the better part of a day reporting everyone who’d shipped him with you. The entire incident had truly made him go off the rails. 

However, today’s revelation was unexpected. It was an opportunity. A chance to experience something he’d desired for many years. Suddenly, he found himself thanking those busybodies online instead of cussing them out for being ridiculously invested in his love life.

Sunghoon knew saying yes to your proposition would bite him in the ass later on. He knew he’d crave more of you once he got a taste of being your boyfriend, and giving this fake relationship a shot would definitely make it harder for him to get over you in the future. He knew he was a massive idiot for willingly indulging in impending heartbreak, but he could always cross that bridge when he came to it.  

“Okay,” he said, meeting your gaze. “I’m in.”

There was a small chance Sunghoon was getting ahead of himself. Maybe he shouldn’t have taken it upon himself to organise the perfect date. 

Being bitchless his entire life wasn’t doing him any favours in performing the task. Originally, he’d figured he would do a quick Google search and plan a day according to the results shown.

Unfortunately, most activities on the list were things the two of you already did on a normal basis. He’d racked his brain to think of a unique idea after scrolling through the internet for hours on end and coming up empty-handed. 

Karaoke? Check. Restaurant hopping? Psh, you did that every weekend. Rock climbing? He was scared of heights. Bowling? Boring. Concert? None of your favourite artists were in town. Clubbing? He would rather spend quality time with you than get both of you wasted. Arcade? Basic and low-budget; he didn’t want to be cheap. Road-trip? Needed more than just 24 hours.

Sunghoon wondered if he was the problem. He’d shot down every option he’d come across so far by classifying it as not good enough. His stress levels were skyrocketing trying to make your 24-hour relationship perfect.

An entire day’s research had ended up being fruitless. You’d decided to go through with the challenge on Sunday, so he only had tomorrow to come up with something satisfactory. 

Sighing, Sunghoon rubbed his eyes and closed his laptop. He eyed his phone on the bedside table for a few seconds, contemplating whether he should just call you and ask if you had anything in mind. 

Before he could rethink his choice, he picked up the device and dialled you. 

“Hey.” Your voice on the other end was deep and hoarse. A glance at the wall clock informed Sunghoon it was past midnight, and he’d likely woken you up. Guilt twisted his stomach. “Is something wrong?”

“Sorry, I didn’t realise it was late,” he mumbled. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Nah, it’s alright. I was watching a movie and passed out halfway through it. I needed to finish it anyway.” 

Lying back on his bed, Sunghoon inquired, “Ready or not?”

“Yeah.” You huffed a laugh. “I finally got around to seeing it. Your choice, as always, is impeccable.” 

Though you couldn’t see him, he raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you just say you dozed off in the middle of it?” 

“Well, yeah, but that’s because I’m not a stupid nocturnal with no care for their sleep cycle and health.” 

“Ouch.” Sunghoon clutched his chest. He could practically hear you roll your eyes. “No need to be so harsh.”

You hummed absent-mindedly, a yawn escaping your lips. “Was there a reason you hit me up, or can I get back to the movie?” 

“Oh, yeah.” Sunghoon cleared his throat. “Do you have any suggestions for the challenge? I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but I haven’t come up with anything interesting.” 

“Not really. I tried researching a bit, and there isn’t much we don’t already do. I’m starting to wonder if the only difference between a platonic and romantic relationship is physical intimacy. I’m sure we can reach a consensus though,” you added.  

Sunghoon groaned. “This is proving to be more difficult than I—”

“WAIT!” you interrupted him with an exclaim. “How about a picnic date? We’ve been talking about going on one with the rest of our friends for ages, but it’s never worked out. Let’s go—just the two of us. We can choose outfits for each other too! I’ll order you something online, and you do the same for me. We can spend the rest of our day doing whatever you want.” 

Sunghoon’s eyes widened. “That’s actually not a bad idea.”

“Right?” you giggled. “Maybe we can spread a blanket in the park under a tree and have a nice brunch. I’ll organise it!”

“I’ll take care of dinner and plan another activity for us to do between the two meals.” He grinned. “Looks like we might actually be able to pull this off, Y/N.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this excited to film a video,” you admitted.

Sunghoon’s heart fluttered, and his lips widened into a smile. “Me too.”

Everything was set. You’d received the dress Sunghoon had ordered for you, and he’d taken delivery of the one you’d bought for him.

Upon opening the package, Sunghoon was surprised to see you’d accidentally ended up matching outfits. While he’d chosen a white summer dress with blue flowers for you, you’d picked out a white graphic tee and low-rise, faded blue, baggy jeans for him. 

The fit was minimal—something that he would have purchased if he’d seen it in a mall. 

Grabbing a pair of sunglasses and running a hand through his messy hair, Sunghoon made a beeline for his car. He shot you a quick text regarding his ETA before backing the vehicle out of his driveway.

[hoon]: omw be there in 10

[y/n]: okie i’ll wait for u. call me when ur outside!!!!!!!!!

Averting his gaze to the road again, Sunghoon took a deep breath. He’d finally planned the perfect day out. It took a lot of effort and coordination on his part, but the several favours he had to call in were worth it. 

He’d probably gone over the top, especially considering the fact that this wasn’t even real, but he was determined not to half-ass anything. He had one chance, and he’d damn well make sure he didn’t waste it.

Turning the corner of your house, Sunghoon dialled your number. “I’m here.” 

“Coming,” you popped, the sound of your footsteps descending the stairs audible through the call. 

He grabbed the bouquet of flowers from the backseat, got rid of his sunglasses and exited the car. Your door opened a few seconds later, and Sunghoon’s world slipped from under his feet. 

God, you were beautiful. So beautiful and so fucking pretty in the dress he’d chosen for you. The material fit you perfectly—it accentuated your upper body and was flowy from your lower waist. The dress was almost ankle-length with a side slit that began at your upper thigh. Your shoulders and collar bones were exposed, a gold pendant filling the empty space the deep square neckline left in its wake. 

Your left shoulder was carrying a tote bag, and your right hand was holding a large picnic basket. Much to Sunghoon’s surprise, your free hand was wrapped around a bouquet too. 

Snapping himself out of his reverie, he took the basket from you and placed it inside the car. “You look amazing, sunshine,” he breathed. “Just—wow.”

Giggling, you did a little twirl for him. “Thanks! I love what you’ve done with your hair. It makes you more attractive.”

Sunghoon mock-saluted and bowed dramatically, a chuckle escaping his lips. “Took me ten minutes to style it.” Glancing at the flowers in your hand, he asked, “You got me flowers?” 

Maybe his eyesight was faulty, but Sunghoon felt your entire demeanour suddenly change. Tucking a stray strand behind your ear, you averted your gaze from his and shyly mumbled, “You took it upon yourself to plan the majority of the day. The least I could do was gift you some flowers.” 

Right when Sunghoon thought he couldn’t love you any more than he already did, you went ahead and did this. He’d never received flowers in his life before, and the gesture meant everything to him. 

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he took the bouquet from you. “Thank you,” he said, voice heavy with gratitude. “Don’t kill me, but I don’t know the name of these flowers.” 

Laughing, you pinched his cheek. “They’re asters.” 

“What do they mean?” 

“Why don’t you search it up when you go home?” you quipped. “Let me know once you find out.”  

Sunghoon shrugged and handed you the flowers he’d bought for you. “Sunflowers for my sunshine.” 

A wide grin broke across your lips. “They’re my favourite!” 

“I know, dummy,” he said, flicking your forehead and opening the passenger’s door for you. “That’s why I got them for you.” 

“Be nice!” you complained as he walked around the car. Taking a seat beside you, he started the engine and began driving. “I’m your girlfriend!” 

“I just opened the door for you,” Sunghoon pointed out, promptly ignoring the way his heart rate picked up. “I think I’m being gentlemanly enough.” 

“That’s not a word.”

“Is too.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“This is why you get no bitches.”

“I got you.”

“Are you calling me a bitch?”

“I’m calling you mine.”

Snorting, you said, “Not your best save, Park.” 

Biting down the smile threatening to break across his lips, Sunghoon said, “I’ll survive, but you should really start recording.” 

“Right,” you gasped, your eyes widening. Fetching the DSLR from your tote bag and switching it on, you placed it on the dashboard carefully. After ensuring that the camera was rolling, you began, “I’m in the car with Sunghoon right now. He just picked me up, but I lowkey forgot to record it.”

“Y/N was too busy gawking at me,” Sunghoon teased and raised an eyebrow at the lens. “I’m too attractive for my own good.” 

“Nobody’s buying your bullshit.” You rolled your eyes. “But if you do think he looks cute, it’s because I chose his outfit.” 

“And if you think she looks beautiful, that’s because I chose her outfit.” 

You nodded. “He did. We thought kicking off the challenge this way would be cool. Clothes were ordered by both of us individually, which means neither of us had any idea what had been chosen by the other until we met ten minutes ago. Crazy how we still ended up matching.”

“We exchanged flowers too. Y/N got me asters, and I got her sunflowers.” 

“Hoon has no idea what asters signify,” you commented and nudged him with your elbow. “He didn’t even know the flowers I gifted him were asters.”

“Don’t shame me for not being a nerd!” Sunghoon defended himself. “Only you can be the kind of person who reads The Language of Flowers and indulges in floriography because they’re bored.” 

 “Aaaand the worst boyfriend award goes to this guy sitting right next to me,” you announced, shooting him a nasty glare. “He’s been annoying me from the moment he came to pick me up.”

“I opened the door for you!”

“How long are you going to milk the one gentlemanly thing you did?” 

Sunghoon scoffed in disbelief. “I thought gentlemanly wasn’t a word.”

“I lied,” you popped and grinned cheekily. 

“The problem with this relationship is you, woman, not me.”

Laughing, you turned to the camera again. “We’re going on multiple dates today. I’ve organised a picnic brunch, and Hoon has organised dinner.”

“It’s a surprise,” Sunghoon explained. “But I can assure you that it’s going to be the coolest thing ever.”

You hummed in agreement. “I believe him. He always gives the best surprises. Anyway, I’m going to stop recording now, and I’ll see you guys once we reach the park. I think we’re almost there.” 

“Five minutes,” Sunghoon provided. 

You grabbed the DSLR and brought it close to your face. Cupping your hand over the lens as if you were telling it a secret, you whispered, “T-minus five minutes to the best picnic date ever. Bye!”

Despite it being June and most kids being on vacation, the park wasn’t crowded. 

Even though it was almost 10:30 and the sun was merciless, there were plenty of people jogging on the track. Sunghoon spotted a laughter club in session a few hundred metres away from where you’d laid your blanket under the tree.

Thanks to the clear sky and blowing wind, more than a few people had taken out their own picnic baskets and decided to enjoy the weather. A bunch of middle-schoolers were playing basketball about fifty metres away from your tree, and though Sunghoon would have appreciated the peace, it was fun to watch them run around on the court. 

You’d set up the camera immediately upon arrival. Even though it was still rolling, neither of you were aware of it. It lay forgotten to the side, and as far as Sunghoon was concerned, it was just the two of you.

“It’s a beautiful day,” you mumbled, gathering your strands and tying them up in a messy bun. “Really fucking hot though.” 

“You have some relief, at least,” Sunghoon said, pointing at your exposed shoulders and flowing dress. “I’m fully covered and positively dying in here.” 

You smiled sheepishly. “Oops. That’s my bad.” 

Laughing, Sunghoon ran a hand through his hair. “What did you get for us to eat in that basket of yours?” he asked. “It was pretty heavy.” 

“Nothing much,” you answered and dragged the basket closer to you. Opening the lid, you pulled out Tupperware containing watermelons, muskmelons and mango slices. You’d also prepared a heart-shaped pizza and baked half a dozen macarons. Finally, you fetched a bottle filled with peach-iced tea and a pair of champagne glasses. 

Sunghoon gaped at the assortment of food you’d arranged. “Did you make everything by yourself?” 

“I wish,” you snorted. “Mom made the macarons and delivered them via FedEx. I don’t have the patience to bake.”

“Okay, but this is still crazy,” Sunghoon said, amazement evident in his tone. “The amount of effort you’ve put in is insane.” 

Blushing, you shoved his shoulder. “Stop! You’re embarrassing me!”

“I’m complimenting you!” he exclaimed, and served himself a piece of the pizza. “Bringing homemade food is the best thing you could’ve done. And God, this is delicious. I’m going to wife you right now.” 

You laughed incredulously. “Slow down, Romeo. We just started dating. How about you show me a good time first?” 

This. This was exactly the reason why Sunghoon didn’t entirely hate being stuck in the friend zone. Because no matter how much you told people you were just friends and there was nothing going on between the two of you, you were constantly flirting. 

The only reason he was afraid of confessing his feelings was that he didn’t know much of the flirting was real. It was the dynamic of your friendship—neither of you thought it was weird making suggestive comments. You were too comfortable with each other to let such things bother you. 

Sunghoon could no longer tell whether your relationship was still platonic. He was too hopelessly in love with you to keep knowing the difference between a joke and genuineness. His heart surged every time you said something only a romantic partner would, and his heart shattered every time he reminded himself that you didn’t actually mean it. 

You never meant it. 

But Sunghoon was a selfish person. He was going to take what he could get. He would rather be unintentionally strung along than give these moments up. The minuscule part of him that hated you for the pain you were causing him was nothing compared to the part of him that loved you unconditionally. 

Forcing himself out of his reverie, Sunghoon raised an eyebrow at you. “In front of everyone?”

“You’re so gross!” you snickered, your eyes shining with mischief. “I obviously mean when we get home!” 

I’m going to kill myself, Sunghoon thought. I’m going to kill myself before she kills me.   

The two of you had finished eating almost thirty minutes ago. Now, you were just lying on the blanket and staring at the sky, having conversations about the most random topics. 

You were talking shit about some know-it-all guy in your physics class, but Sunghoon wasn’t really paying any attention to what you were saying.

He was still stuck on what had happened an hour ago when you’d urged him to feed you because “that was what couples did.” 

Sunghoon didn’t give a shit what couples did. His biggest problem at the moment was his mind replaying the incident like a broken record. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. He’d already known he was being an idiot by agreeing to come on this date, but he never thought he’d regret his decision this quickly.

“Are you okay?” 

Blinking, Sunghoon spared you a glance. “Peachy.” 

“Those kids over there are calling us,” you told him, pointing to the basketball court. “We should go see what they want.” 

Nodding, he pulled himself to his feet and gave you a hand. Leaving the DSLR under the tree wouldn’t have been safe, so you grabbed it and the two of you made your way to the children waiting for you. 

“Hey,” a perky boy greeted you enthusiastically. “I’m Hyun. We’ve been playing basketball for the past several hours. The team that wins 6 out of 11 matches has to treat the other team to ice cream. Unfortunately, 2 of our friends left, and now it’s just the 6 of us divided into 2 teams. We really don’t want to play half-court, but we can’t play full-court with a team of only 3 each. Do you guys want to play the last few matches with us? One match only lasts 15 minutes.” 

Sunghoon exchanged a look with you. Then, you glanced at your spot under the tree. Lastly, you checked out your outfit—the slit exposing most of your leg and the lack of coverage for your shoulders.

“I have a pair of shorts and a shirt in my car,” he informed you. 

You took a moment to weigh your options. Honestly, playing in the open when the sun was out to torture everyone didn’t sound appealing. There was also the issue of you needing to switch outfits, and you didn’t know if you wanted to take the effort of changing inside Sunghoon’s car. 

But kids had always been your weak spot and the little rascals were staring you down with their puppy eyes. 

You sighed. “Fine. We’re in.”

“I haven’t played in a while,” Sunghoon admitted. “I think it’s been over 6 months.” 

“I haven’t played since varsity girls either,” you said. The kids had left to take a break a few minutes ago and the court was empty save for the two of you.

You’d changed into his clothes, but the shirt was too long for you. So, you’d requested him to tie the extra into a knot at the back. Thankfully, the shorts could be tightened at the waist with lace. 

Sunghoon could get used to you wearing his wardrobe. 

He idly dribbled the ball the kids had given to him for safekeeping while you stretched your stiff muscles. “Then I guess we get to evaluate whose skills have become more rusty.”

“Free shots?” you asked, eyes alight with a competitive fire and a smirk tugging at your lips. “We can test our aim and get a feel of the baskets on this court. It would be a good warm-up exercise.”  

Sunghoon poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Bring your camera here. Record me from up close. I’m going to go for a layup.”

“Wow,” you scoffed but did as you were told nonetheless. Before stepping onto the court, you’d filmed Sunghoon and yourself, explaining that you were about to play basketball with a bunch of kids. Naturally, you’d decided not to record the match in order to respect the privacy of the children. “Don’t you think you’re getting ahead of yourself? I’m telling you right now that I won’t care if you miss the shot. I will use it to humiliate you in the video.” 

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. 

You switched on the DSLR and pointed the lens at him. “We’re doing free shots till the kids come back from their break,” you said. “Hoon’s convinced he can land a layup even though he hasn’t touched a ball for several months.” 

“Don’t condescend me,” Sunghoon grumbled as he walked to the 3-pointer line. “It’s not like I’ve completely forgotten how to play. I’m pretty sure I can nail a simple shot.”

“We’ll see.”

“You know what,” he called. “I’m going to dedicate this layup to you so that when I make it, you’ll know not to doubt my athletic prowess.”

All you did was raise an eyebrow. 

“This one’s for you, babe!” Sunghoon announced and began running. The ball was a number 6—smaller than the size 7 he was used to. The grip was worn due to excessive use, but he still had complete control over it. 

However, he misjudged the distance from the hoop. He realised a second too late that he’d taken the first step of the layup later than he was supposed to. 

The ball collided against the rim and rebounded.

“Air ball!” you hollered and zoomed into Sunghoon’s face. “Athletic prowess found to be missing! What a shame!” 

His cheeks, along with the tips of his ears, were red with embarrassment. He couldn’t even bring himself to look into the camera after making such a big fool out of himself.

“I am begging you, Y/N. Can we please edit that part out?” 

“I’m kicking your ass, Park.”

“I suggest you take the over-confidence down a notch.” 

You smirked, dribbling the basketball in place. Sunghoon was blocking the way to your side of the court, and each of the kids on your team had a man on them. Playing in the sun for so long must have tired them out because no one was making an effort to get rid of the shield standing in front of them.

The last match was a 1v1 at this point.  

“I’m not in the habit of lying,” you said, and dribbled the ball from between his legs. 

Sunghoon cursed under his breath and chased after you, but you were speeding away from him faster than he could keep up. The layup was clean and effortless. You barely broke a sweat. 

“SUCK IT!” you screamed. “Your team is going down!” 

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. He watched your team—Hyun, Chul and Dae—do the victory dance you’d taught them. It was hilarious because none of you had any coordination. The arm wave move made it seem as though all of you were having a seizure. 

“We still have fifteen seconds of the match left,” he pointed out, and pat Iseul’s back in reassurance. “Don’t go celebrating just yet.” 

 “You’re four points behind. Just admit defeat,” Dae said. “We’ve won!” 

“We’re not surrendering,” Hajoon said angrily. “Sunghoon will make sure we win.”

“Boys!” you interrupted loudly. “Let’s finish the championship sportingly. We’re playing for fun.” 

Chul muttered something under his breath that Sunghoon and you chose to ignore. 

“Seojoon,” Sunghoon called quietly. “Now that we have possession of the ball, I need you to pass it to me from below. Then I need Hajoon and Iseul to gang up on Y/N. Don’t push or shove; just keep her away. The worst thing we can do is commit a foul. The rest of the boys won’t be a problem, but I’ll need Seojoon to act as my shield in case they try to take the ball from me. Do not let anyone come near me under any circumstances. I’m going to go for a 5-pointer.”

The trio audibly gasped. 

Iseul nervously asked, “Are you sure you can score?” 

“Not without the three of you helping me out.” Sunghoon nodded. “Y/N is quick and slippery. Keep your eye on her. We’ll lose if she gets possession of the ball. I’ll take care of the rest.” 

The boys let out a sound of agreement and dispersed, taking their respective positions. 

Sunghoon searched for you, and when your gazes met, he made a gesture of slitting his throat. This time, you rolled your eyes and dismissed him without a word. 

“Let’s start,” you announced with a clap and got into position. He noticed you were standing away from the basket. The rest of your team was too. It dawned on Sunghoon that you’d positioned everyone in a way that would prevent them from committing a foul which would grant his team free throws. 

It was smart and reasonable of you to think that way. Sunghoon wasn’t known for landing 5-pointers. Heck, he never even attempted them. He usually went for layups and 3-pointers. 

Focusing on the game, he took a deep breath. Seojoon passed the ball at him as soon as you yelled Go!

Sunghoon dribbled to your side of the court immediately. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you hesitate, but your mouth parted in realisation the second you caught onto what he was doing. 

“Stay on her!” he yelled at Iseul and Hajoon. “Don’t let her go.”

Sunghoon dodged the rest of your teammates. Seojoon wasn’t doing a good job at keeping them away, but he didn’t have enough time to dwell on it. He could do this by himself as long as you were out of the picture. 

Sunghoon eyed the basket and bent at his knees, gathering enough momentum to jump. He’d been hitting the gym more often, and he hoped to God his hard work wouldn’t fail him at such a crucial time. 

Exhaling once, Sunghoon jumped and let the ball fly across the court. The moment the ball was out of his hands, you crashed into him, knocking him to the ground and falling on top of him. 

“Ow,” he muttered, his arm wrapping itself around your waist on instinct. “That’s foul play.” 

Before you could bite back, Sunghoon heard someone scream, “No way! Sunghoon did it!” 

Sunghoon grinned and craned his neck to look at his teammates. A laugh tumbled past his lips when he saw them doing the floss dance and playfully teasing the losing team.

The sound of your groan made him avert his attention to you. You’d raised your head to find out whether Sunghoon had made the basket, and upon realising that you’d lost the match, you let it fall on his chest again. “Man,” you grumbled in defeat.

“Aw,” Sunghoon teased. “It happens to the best of us.”

“Who asked?”

Snorting, Sunghoon loosened his grip around your waist. Rolling off him, you laid down on your back in the middle of the court next to him. “Am I supposed to buy you ice cream now?” 

He checked his watch before answering, “Nah. Let’s go home and freshen up. It’s almost time for my date.”

“The beach,” you marvelled. Both of you were standing on a cliff overlooking the expanse of sand and water. “I should have guessed.” 

Sunghoon agreed. It shouldn’t have been hard to pinpoint the venue of the date once he’d requested you to wear shorts and sandals. However, your obliviousness had worked in his favour. 

The entire thing was supposed to be a surprise. It was supposed to sweep you off your feet.

He averted his attention from the ocean to find that you were already staring at him. A soft smile was adorning your face, and with the breeze ruffling your unbound hair, you looked nothing short of a fairy tale. 

“Do you remember the last time we came here?” you inquired, and returned your gaze to the view again. Sunghoon didn’t bother to take his eyes off you—he couldn’t take his eyes off you. The reflection of the sunset in your irises was too intoxicating. “Jay, Jake, Yizhuo and Isa were with us. We spent the entire night talking around a bonfire. I couldn’t keep myself awake once the clock struck two. You tucked me close and let me rest my head on the space between your shoulder and neck. You kissed my forehead and promised me you’d wake me up in a few hours.” 

Sunghoon didn’t say anything. He only kept staring at the image of the sunset in your eyes—the way the ocean consumed the ball of fire the same way his love for you consumed his very being. 

Love shouldn’t hurt this much, he thought. It shouldn’t be this painful.  

“I remember the way you smelt,” you continued. “Like vanilla and sandalwood. I remember wanting to pull you closer because you also smelt like home. I hated moving to a new city for college. I missed our hometown. I missed life being simpler. I missed the old times. But those brief moments before I fell asleep reminded me that not everything had changed. The clumsy boy I’d met in kindergarten was still with me. Sure, he was a bigger pain in my ass than he had been when we were kids, but he hadn’t left my side even once. And I knew he wouldn’t for a long time.”

“You’ve been the only constant in my life, Sunghoon,” you mumbled and turned your body towards his. Snaking your arms around his waist, you pulled him into a hug. “Thank you for being a good friend to me. I love you.”

And though Sunghoon knew you didn’t mean it the way he wished you did, he returned your embrace and confessed, “I love you too.” 

“What the fuck?” you whispered and let go of Sunghoon’s hand to jog ahead. “WHAT THE FUCK? IS THAT A CANDLELIGHT DINNER?” 

Laughing in amusement, he pocketed his hands and watched you freak out. The beach was usually crowded at this hour, but he’d asked Jake—the surfer of their group—if there was anywhere he could spend the evening undisturbed. 

“Your eyes do not deceive you,” he joked as he approached you. “I know it’s kind of corny, but this was the most romantic date setting I could think of.”

“Corny?” you exclaimed incredulously. “This is amazing!” Nudging him with your elbow, you teased, “I didn’t know you had it in you.” 

“You would have known a lot more if you’d asked me out before,” Sunghoon smirked, a suggestive undertone to his comment. “But I suppose we can make do with what we have now.”

You snorted. “You’re insufferable.” Then added, “I don’t want to shoot us having dinner here. Maybe I’ll just film the date set-up and our outfits, but I think I want this evening to remain between us only.”

“Oh.” Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, sure, that works for me. Do you want me to get your camera?” 

The next five minutes were spent recording the date he had organised. The food was prepared by Jay, whose chef father had taught him a thing or two before the boy moved to the city for college. Sunghoon had dragged Yizhuo and Isa with him to shop for decor. 

They’d bought a soft blanket which was now spread on the sand. He’d also purchased six couch pillows to make the setting cosier. Fairy lights covered the perimeter of the throw. 

The coffee table Sunghoon had stolen from himself and brought to the beach was filled with all kinds of your favourite food, a scented candle burning in the centre of it. 

Since he’d known he couldn’t escape you to set up everything that he’d planned, he’d begged his friends to do it for him. Obviously, they’d teased him about it on their group chat, but he’d ignored them the way he always did. 

“I have another surprise,” Sunghoon popped as the two of you settled down on opposite sides of the table. “I don’t know if you’re going to be up for it though.”

“Is it the wine?” you asked, eyeing the corked bottle partially hidden under one of the pillows. “Because I saw it long back, and I am all for getting drunk.” 

Sunghoon chuckled. “Nah, it’s not the wine, but yeah, we’re getting drunk. There’s absolutely no doubt about it. But,” he continued, “I’d been going through Pinterest to search for date ideas when I called you in the middle of your movie a few nights ago. After our talk, I remembered you’d made this board with Karina when you were a thirteen-year-old.”

You gasped and reached over the table to smack his arm. “You stalked my Pinterest?! That is so uncool! There’s tons of embarrassing shit on there! I should have privated those boards when I had the chance,” you muttered to yourself. 

“Then I wouldn’t have rented a projector for us to watch a movie after we finish dinner.” Sunghoon grinned cheekily. “We are not watching some sappy romcom though,” he warned. “Soap2Day came in clutch so we can watch Suzume or Guardians of the Galaxy Volume 3. Your choice.”

Your mouth parted in surprise. For a few moments, you didn’t say anything. With a raised eyebrow, Sunghoon watched you struggle to form the words. “Okay, I know it was creepy to stalk you on Pinterest—” 

“NO!” you blurted, your eyes widening. “It’s not creepy! I just—No one has ever done anything of this sort for me. I don’t know what to say except… thank you.”

Before he could reply, you buried your face in your hands, and muttered, “Gosh, I sound so ungrateful, but I really do appreciate it. More than I can express.” Raising your head, you looked straight into his eyes. “I have this extremely strong urge to kiss you right now. Would it be fine with you if I acted on it?”

Sunghoon stopped breathing. His smile dropped, and his heart skipped a beat. The entire world could have crumbled, and he would have remained frozen in place, trying to make sense of what you’d just said. 

“W—what?” he croaked. 

You broke off the eye contact and dropped your gaze to the ground. “Sorry. That was stupid of me—”

“Yes,” Sunghoon breathed. “Yes, it would be fine with me.” 

You exhaled, appearing visibly relieved, and that somehow made him feel better about the sharp turn the evening had taken. Of course, he was thrilled you wanted to kiss him, but part of him couldn’t help but wonder if you’d regretted voicing your thoughts. 

Licking your lips, you unfolded your legs and scooted away from the table. Instead of standing up, you got on your knees and made your way towards him.

Sunghoon also moved away from the table to make space for you, and once you reached him, you swung your legs on either side of him. Straddling his lap, you towered over him. 

Snaking your arms around his shoulder, you glanced at his mouth. 

Even though it was driving Sunghoon out of his mind to not close the distance between your lips, he let you take your time. You traced your thumb across his lower lip and then shifted your hand to the back of his neck. 

Weaving your fingers through his hair, you let your eyes flutter shut and lowered your mouth over his. 

Sunghoon’s entire universe exploded into shards of molten light. A tidal wave of emotions crashed into him, setting his nerves on fire and making fireworks explode inside his chest.

The boy couldn’t have kissed you back any faster. Tilting his head to the side, he pulled you closer by the nape. 

Settling in his lap, you tugged at his hair, the nails of your other hand digging into his shoulder. 

A groan slipped past Sunghoon’s lips. God, he’d coveted the taste of you for so long, and now that he was finally kissing you, he realised he’d never estimated the magnitude of his love for you accurately before. 

Because this… this was everything. Sunghoon felt on top of the world, and pure euphoria was coursing through his veins. He couldn’t get enough of you. A single kiss would never be enough to satiate him. The floodgates were thrown open, and the thought of this being a one-time, impulsive thing made his gut twist painfully. 

He knew he needed to tell you. Right here, right now, he needed to tell you the truth. 

“Y/N.” Sunghoon gasped, breaking the kiss. He was leaning back now, his weight resting on his left elbow. The desperation and urgency with which you’d come onto him had been more than he could handle. “I need to tell you something.” 

Your eyes remained glued to his lips and there was a tinge of disappointment on your face. As if you didn’t want to stop. As if you wanted to keep going. 

With a jolt, it dawned on him that you probably wanted him just as much as he wanted you.  

The epiphany alone was enough for Sunghoon to consider ditching his plan of confessing his feelings and instead close the distance between your mouths again. But, he steeled his nerves and pushed himself into a sitting position.

He didn’t bother asking you to get up from his lap nor did he bother removing his left hand from your waist. If this confession went sideways, he’d end up losing you anyway. 

“What is it?” you whispered, your disappointed expression giving way to concern and nervousness. “Did I go too far? I’m sorry—”

“Stop,” Sunghoon ground out. “Please stop. Let me speak.” 

You pursed your lips, but he could tell you were scared shitless. There was fear in your eyes, and he hated making you feel as though you’d done something wrong when you’d given him the one thing he’d wanted more than anything else.

“I…” Sunghoon started, forcing himself to find the courage to say the words. “Y/N, I love you.” 

There it was. He’d done it. The cat was out of the bag, and all he could do now was wait with bated breath. 

Your mouth parted open, but no sound came out of it. Your face was unreadable. It was void of any emotion. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Sunghoon tore his gaze from yours and let out a humourless laugh. “Right. That’s okay—”

But then he felt your hands grabbing his jaw, making him pin his attention on you again. 

There was pure, unadulterated joy on your countenance, a wide smile adorning your lips. “I love you too,” you breathed. “Oh, my God, Sunghoon, I love you too.” 

Sunghoon blinked. “What?” he mumbled, his mouth set in a pout due to your squishing his cheeks. 

You leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his puckered lips. “I love you too,” you repeated. 

Gripping your hands, Sunghoon removed them from his face and stared up at you in bewilderment. “You’re serious?” 

“Hasn’t it been obvious to you?”

“Hasn’t it been obvious to you?” he shot back. “I’ve loved you since high school.”

You snorted. “So have I.” 

“Sophomore year.”

“Same.”

“I knew right after the homecoming ball.”

“Sucker!” you exclaimed. “I knew right after the game!” 

Sunghoon frowned. “It’s not a competition, Y/N,” he said, and then added, “But if it were, I would win. The amount of effort I’ve put into hiding my feelings is insane.”

“Sure,” you drawled. “That’s why all my followers keep saying it’s clear you’re in love with me.”

The tips of his ears turned red in embarrassment. “You saw the comments?” 

“Of course I did,” you answered, your voice soft. “I just never believed them. The notion never seemed possible. Isn’t it crazy how it was real this entire time?” 

Sunghoon chuckled. “We’re idiots.”

“We are,” you said, smiling at him in affection. “To be honest, I wouldn’t have ever said anything about what I truly felt if you hadn’t found the courage to confess to me.” 

“I know, I know,” you defended and rolled your eyes when he gave you a pointed look. “I did ask if I could kiss you. Trust me, I was more surprised than you were. Heck, I was fully prepared to play it off by spouting some bullshit in case you said no. What you did for me, Sunghoon… I couldn’t keep the urge inside me anymore. I didn’t care about the consequences. I didn’t care that there would be no turning back—I knew I had to take the risk. And I’m glad that I did.”

Sunghoon’s heart swelled with joy. “Me too.”

“Wait,” you said quickly. “How’d you know you were in love with me?”

Rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, he answered, “While we were dancing at homecoming. You didn’t have a single move in you, but you didn’t wanna be the only one not dancing, so you started doing what you’d learnt in Zumba. It was hilarious—watching you be clueless but still killing it on the dance floor. It made me proud of you, but more than that, it made me realise what I felt for you.” 

“Aw,” you cooed. “That’s really sweet of you, but I definitely knew what I was doing.”

“Let’s not ruin the moment by lying to each other.”

“You’re such a dork!” 

“It’s your turn now!” Sunghoon grinned. “Tell me!”

“Okay, but you have to promise not to judge me,” you warned. “My story is embarrassing.” 

Locking his pinkie with yours, he promised, “I won’t.”

“Remember how you sat with Yeojin at the game?” you asked, to which Sunghoon nodded. “Well, I’d been saving seats for us. I fought a lot of people to keep the seat next to me vacant, but you didn’t even acknowledge me when I called your name. Yeojin caught hold of you, and you went to sit with her without bothering to check if I was around.” Shrugging, you mumbled, “That made me mad and jealous and upset. Not just at her, but at both of you. I’d never been possessive over my friends, and I’d never felt such ugly emotions before. There was only one reasonable explanation.”

Sunghoon’s eyebrows flew up. “Woah. I’m sorry for what I did.”

“Nah, it’s cool. It was loud at the game and I don’t think you heard me.” You laughed and waved him away. “I was being petty. And I know it’s not cute like your story, but that was what made me realise there was a chance I loved you.”

“Cute or not, that was the best story I’ve ever heard,” he said cheekily. “Also, don’t get me wrong—I would love nothing more than have you sit in my lap, but I think we should finish dinner first. Let’s finish what you started once we’re done eating.”

Your eyes widened, and you scrambled away from him. “Right.”

“Wait!” Sunghoon grabbed your wrist before you could get up and go back to the other side of the table. “The asters—what do they signify?” 

You smiled and leaned closer to his face, pressing the gentlest of kisses to his cheek. 

“Love.” 

#enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon scenarios #enhypen fluff #sugnhoon fluff #enhypen x reader #sunghoon x reader #enhypen oneshots #sunghoon oneshots #enhypen fanfiction #sunghoon fanfiction #enhypen #park sunghoon #enhypen drabbles #sunghoon drabbles #enhypen headcanons #enhypen reactions #enhypen soft hours #sunghoon soft hours #enhypen timestamps #sunghoon timestamps #enhypen fanfic #sunghoon fanfic #sunghoon headcanons #sunghoon reactions

[astroaid]

astro observations

Accuracy influenced by entire chart.

🪻 Family member w/ a cap venus met his wife at her workplace.

- This placement is generally attracted to polite, well-dressed/groomed people. Partnerships work best when the partner has a steady plan for their future. Cap venus spouses generally are: reliable, humble, and hardworking.

🪻 Taurus Venus+7th H Venus may have relationships (friends, lovers, and business) with lazy people. (lazy is a harsh word but I can’t think of a better one)

- Ex 1. My taurus venus friend had a partner in university who was financially supported by their parents well into adulthood. This resulted in the partner having terrible work ethic. Their laziness resulted in unemployment and lack of ambition in career.

- Ex 2. This taurus venus had a partner who would ask to cancel dates to stay at home. They preferred to spend most of their free time gaming. Very much a homebody.

🪻 Aqua is a fixed sign and I’ve noticed aqua venus people have fixed types physically. And their “type” can often be physically different from them.

- Ex 1. Aqua venus man says he loves to date tall girls. He’s about 6 feet and has only ever dated women very close to his height. And right now is trying to rizz up a woman taller than him.

- Ex 2. The other aqua venus has only dated men from a different racial background than her. The type is “fixed” because the men are always the same race although different than her.

🪻Venus in 9th H woman ik is in a long distance relationship. I know it’s such a generic example of this placement but it’s accurate!

🪻 Gemini Venus friend loves a lil toxicity. Picking fights to get the other person riled up in a fun & loving way.

- This may be a negative manifestation of this placement. Because (generally) this placement is prone to get bored in long term connections. This does not mean that they don’t love their partner or they can’t have a forever relationship. It means partnership work best with partners who have a youthful energy. Someone who is as curious and clever as they are.

- This placement’s likely to have a spouse who is witty, a little devious in their humour but overall intelligent & respectable.

🪻 Not all libra risings have symmetrical bodies. If the ruler, venus is afflicted you may have some asymmetrical features. This does not mean you are unattractive.

- Libra rising w/ venus in scorpio & venus conjunct mars. She has asymmetrical dimples.

- Libra rising conjunct mars. She has had a prominent scar on the left side of her chest from a heart surgery she had as a child. ngl it looks badass. my scorpio venus is intrigued & wld love a scar like this.

🪻 6th H chiron can manifest as becoming extremely critical of oneself. I’ve noticed 6th H chiron people are likely to seriously consider & get cosmetic surgeries.

- Person A w 6th H chiron in gemini is open to their circle about having rhinoplasty (nose job). They aren’t ashamed and I’ve seen them give info and joke to those who are curious/interested. Ex: Joking that “you should try learning to contour your nose before spending so much”

- But Person B has 6th H chiron in scorpio. When they had their cosmetic surgery done, they only told those who it was necessary to tell. Like the people who would be taking care of them in their recovery. They have told me they joke to their social circles that they’re just a late bloomer to avoid speculation.

🪻 As a scorpio venus, it is nice to see our loyalty being constantly recognized and appreciated. However, that is such a generic analysis of this placement. Often people seem to forget that Scorpio deals with possession and power dynamics.

- Ex: Scorpio venus man asked for a one sided open marriage from his wife after she has their first child. This allowed him to see other women but she was not allowed to see other men (nor did she want to though). She was incredibly hurt but did not want to be a single mom. And she did financially rely on him as well. This is a negative manifestation of scorpio venus. Instead of loyalty, there were toxic power dynamics at play.

🪻 Ruler of 10th in 7th. I’ve noticed these people can mainly become known for who they are dating or dated.

Ex: This can manifest as having a partner who is more social or popular in their social circles.

Ex.2. It can be negative as people may gossip about your relationships for their entertainment.

🪻 Gemini 7th house can experience getting friend or sister/brother zoned.

🪻 Venus opposite Uranus indicates someone will suddenly end their relationship with you. This can be someone you’re dating, a friend or family. It may even be getting fired from a job since venus is connected to money.

Some may find that people repeatedly surprise them by cheating, leaving or ghosting. There may be some behaviour or pattern within yourself that you must confront for this to end. For others, it may happen once and it will hurt by at least it can be a lesson learned or karma cleared.

#astrology #astrology observations #aquarius venus #capricorn venus #taurus venus #venus in 7th house #taurus 7th house #scorpio rising #gemini ascendant #venus in 9th house #gemini venus #libra rising #libra ascendant #scorpio venus #scorpio mars #6th house chiron #gemini chiron #scorpio chiron #6th house scorpio #6th house gemini #gemini 7th house #gemini descendant #sagittarius first house #sagittarius rising

[zeltqz]

unwind with me | haruchiyo sanzu

pairing. ex bf!sanzu x fem!reader

word count. 3.4k

synopsis. when sanzu doesn't take you breaking up with him seriously.

content. mentions of murder (bonten antics), pills, sex under the influence, sanzu being in denial, clingly obsessive haruchiyo, toxic relationship, sanzu broke into your house, so implied stalking ig? no violence though

taglist. @insayninthamembrayn @mrsharuchiyo @thisbicc @Mishueb @littleoanh @gennysuga @wenumsmol @foreshadxw @meuw02

authors note. IM BACK BITCHES (kinda sorta idk) i know i promised to post like days ago but things happened so..........yeah my fault my fault

“This is me,” you said with a small smile to your date. The uber driver stopped outside your house as you dug through your bag for your keys. 

“I had fun today,” he muttered, pressing his forehead against yours. His warm brown eyes stared at yours as you fought back the urge to kiss him. It’s late, the sun set long ago, the black sky littered with stars and the mood was just perfect. If there was another moment to kiss him it was now.

As if he was thinking the same, his eyes dropped down to your lips as his tongue darted out to wet his own. You leaned forward first, closing what little gap was left between both your bodies and you kissed him, slow and sweet. 

The driver watched the slow kiss through the mirror and frowned. “How adorable. But you need to leave my car. I have other stops to make.”

The two of you pulled away, having forgotten your surroundings and you cleared your throat, bidding goodbye to your date and the driver and slid out of the car.  When you looked back at the car, he had his hands in a phone gesture and mouthed Call me , making you giggle as the car drove off. You bit back on a shit-eating grin as you made your way up to your door. If it wasn’t for the love struck haze in your mind, you would’ve noticed how weird it was that your door was already unlocked.

Stepping inside your house, you flicked on the light, humming to yourself as you kicked off your shoes. You grabbed a sorry snack from the fridge and began to dig into it as you thought back to your day. This was the fifth date your friends set you up on this week alone. Each of them were exhausting and boring; the men mediocre at best, only talking about themselves the entire time and rarely asking you questions about yourself, your job or your life.

Today however, exceeded all your expectations. Not only was he nurturing, kind, and caring, he also paid for all your things despite telling him you could afford it, listened to you talking about your life and remembered bits and pieces to bring up later. It shocked you when he remembered a short joke you made earlier and even brought it up later causing you to break out into laughter.

Despite being the lovely person he was, there was still something missing. Compared to your ex boyfriend who quite frankly was crazy. You shook your head, refusing to think about Haruchiyo right now when you’re trying to move on. 

With a sigh, you walked over to your living room with the intent to watch some TV, and yelp when you see Haruchiyo reclining on your couch like he lives here. Like you didn’t break up with him last week. He even had the audacity to put his filthy shoes on your furniture just because he can. 

“Get out.”

He looked away from the TV and over to you. With the darkness in the living room, his face looked even more haunting as the TV screen lit up half of his face, his mouth stretched into a chilling smile that sent shivers down your spine. If you had something other than a teaspoon in your hands right now you would’ve dashed it at him. 

“But you just got here…” he said with a frown. 

“And you need to leave. Right now. B—before I call—”

“Call who? The police? You know Bonten basically controls them, right?” He leaned back against the couch, stretching his long arms out and smirked at you. “I practically own them. They worship me baby.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. I won’t call the police. But you need to get out.”

His eyes crinkled as he smiled, all teeth at you. “Nice to see you too.”

You felt like you had 400 pound shackles on your feet with how heavy your footsteps were, but you stopped in front of the couch. “Why are you here?”

He tilted his head to the side. “Can I not see you? Check up on you?” The fact he looked genuinely confused made you want to rip your hair out.

“You have a phone. I have a phone.”

“You blocked me,” he cut you off, narrowing his eyes.

You crossed your arms over your chest, fighting back a scoff. “Take the hint.” You leaned closer to his face, hoping the closeness would make your words actually enter his ears not float past him. “We. Broke. Up. I do not love you anymore.”

Haruchiyo hummed, stroking his chin, looking up at the ceiling. “No…No I don’t recall us breaking up.” He looked back down and smiled playfully when he watched your serious face fall. “I remember you telling me to fuck off and die though. That’s what you told me.” He shrugged. “Nothing about breaking up though.”

“Huh?” You blinked at him, hands clenched to your side. “It’s common sense!” You took a deep breath, stepping away from him to pace around your living room, all the while he just leaned forward, grabbed the snack you dropped on the table and began to eat it. 

“You know what. Fine.” You crossed the room once more, stopping in front of him. “I want to break up.”

He shook his head taking a bite of the Oreo. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do. I want to break up.” You meant every single word and you noted the exact moment he realised you weren’t playing around. His mouth fell into a flat line and his eyebrows creased as he frowned.

“You don’t mean that,” he repeated, standing from the couch. You took a step back when he kept walking towards you until you hit the wall. His eyes flashed dangerously as he glared down at you. “Take it back.”

“No,” you spat back, holding your ground. Deep down you knew it wasn’t right for you to be provoking him like this, not with a track record like his. But you were sick of being submissive. “I—I mean every word.” You had to force the words out, hoping with each passing the weakness inside you left with it. 

But the second you stuttered it all went to fail.

His smile only grew. “That so?”

“I don’t want to be with you anymore.”

“Why’s that?” He pouted, his whole demeanour condescending as he brushed his hand over your cheek. The faint tingle of his fingers brushing along your skin had your lip trembling, fighting the urge to flinch away from his touch. He’s so scary. “C’mon, tell me why? What did I do?”

You swallowed the thick lump in your throat. “You’re dangerous, Haru.”

He snickered a little. “Common knowledge, sweetheart.” He moved his hand down to your chin, fighting your face up to his eyeline. “What else?”

From the corner of your eye, you can’t miss the tattoo on his forearm. The permenant, constant reminder that Haruchiyo will always be who he is. When you first saw the tattoo, you let ignorance consume you, thinking he just liked the design, but now you know the true meaning behind Bonten and their motives, you know Haruchiyo’s job excuting people he thinks are traitors. The fact when you asked for his body count and he only shrugged made you want to puke. You can’t look at the tattoo the same anymore, neither can you look at him the same.

“You kill people.”

“So?”

“So?” You blinked uselessly at him. “Are you serious? Y—you can’t just kill people Sanzu! It’s—”

“It’s Haru to you.” He had the audacity to roll his eyes but at least he removed his hand from your face. “Don’t tell me you forgot?”

You crossed your arms together and shook your head. “No. Not anymore.”

His lips twitched up into a smile, the corners of his scars following suit. Those same scars you used to kiss every night and tell him they’re beautiful and unique do nothing but scare you even more. “Do you remember what you used to say to me?” he started, slowly tilting your head to the side by your chin.

“I used to say a lot of things.” You swallowed harshly, hoping he doesn’t feel the tremble of your jaw.

“You said that you love me,” he muttered, distracted by your lips and how sexy they looked under your ceiling light, “that you cared about me…swore that you’d never leave me—”

The memories of each moment fill your mind, the images of kissing him goodbye, squeezing him tight and begging him to stay before he could leave, pouting when he told you he couldn’t stay the night because he had “work to do”.

Vaguely, you wonder that if you knew what ‘work’ consisted of, would you have let him stay the night? 

“That was before…”

“Before what?” He looked at you confused, intrigued.

You took a deep breath, swallowing your emotions down. “Before you lied to me about who you were and what you did!” Your voice got higher the more you spoke, and you hated the way you sounded and the way tears fell down your face. “I fell in love with the guy before I figured out who you were. You’re a fucking murderer and I don’t love you.”

The silence was deafening, filled with nothing but the dull sound of your AC, the water from the tap dripping slowly into the sink, and the sound of your heavy breathing as you tried to calm yourself down. 

He backed away and started laughing. It was a low chuckle that slowly erupted into something more, a full fit of laughter and you couldn’t help but feel so small, like the punchline of some unknown joke.

“What’s—what’s so funny?”

He can’t stop laughing, even after he slapped a hand over his mouth to conceal it. “Nothing—nothing. It’s just—fuck. You’re so dumb.”

“I—” You blinked at him. 

“You knew exactly what you were getting into when you dated me. You’re not fooling anybody with this act of yours. You like the thrill, don’t you? You had this mindset that you thought you could change me, right? That’s what this is about?”

“I didn’t— No. I di—”

“No,” he cut you off, standing in front of you again. He placed his hand on your waist and tugged you closer. “You did. You just don’t want to accept the truth.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, you fought back a whimper when you felt his lips by your ear, your legs turning weaker by the second when he whispered, “You can’t accept the fact you’re in love with someone like me.”

You inhaled sharply when he licked your earlobe. “I don’t love you.”

He hummed softly by your ear, and you hated how the sound calmed you. If it wasn’t for the fact your heart was beating so fast it might as well have jumped outside of your chest, you know you would’ve forgot about everything he did or made you feel and melted into his touch. 

“Why don’t you love me?” His lips tickled your ears as he whispered, voice full of emotion and it almost pained you to spend another second with him this close to you. His face turned, his nose sliding against your cheek leaving a compellingly warm trail until he stopped by pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss. It was far too short for your liking, but you couldn’t help but feel relieved when he pulled away, untrusting of your own body to have the strength to pull away yourself. “What did I ever do to you?”

“N—nothing…”

“So why do you hate me?” When you shook your head and tried to look down at the ground, he lifted your head up back to his. 

“Stop it,” you grumbled, trying to shake out of his grip but froze when he pressed his forehead against yours. Green eyes peeked down at yours, and your stomach ached when you saw the heat in his eyes. “I don’t hate you Haru… I just—” You struggled to find the words for the sudden inner turmoil you were facing regarding your feelings. “I don’t know.”

“So you love me? Hm?” He nudged your face back to his when you looked distracted. “C’mon.”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes you do. You love me just like I love you. Look at me.” He gently shook you. You flicked your eyes up at him, shiny with your tears that had his thumb tingling to wipe it off, or lick it off. Either option has him satifised. 

Licking your tears though will probably creep you out even more and it took him this long to calm you down, the last thing he’d want is to scare you off again. So he chose the latter, wiping your tears away as he shushed you. 

“Shhhh, it’s okay. I got you.” You started to cry harder to the point he needed buckets to clear it all away. He pushed your head into his chest and you wrinkled his shirt with how hard you gripped it, and sobbed silently. “You’re getting my shirt wet, baby.”

“Shut up,” your voice was watery as you stifled a laugh, embracing him in a tight hug. The tears didn’t stop until he pulled your face away, holding you with one big hand on your cheek. 

“Lemme make you feel better, baby.” He doted kisses along your cheeks. You shook your head and snifled. 

“I can’t.”

“You can. Look at me.” There was a hint of demand in his voice that had you forcing yourself to meet his gaze. He licked his lips as he looked searchingly across your face. He was leaning forward and your eyes squeezed shut when he met your lips in a kiss. 

His hand slid down to your back, pulling you towards him till your chests touched. Your arms ached with the need to hold him back, wrap his arms around him to embrace him the way you want him to. 

“Haru, n—” He sloppily kissed you again, pushing you back against the wall. 

You moaned into his mouth when he moved his hands to your ass, squeezing and holding it in a painful grip as his tongue devoured your mouth, licking along yours. He always kissed sloppily, loving nothing more than to pull away and watch the string of spit break. One of his hands moved upwards to carress your waist, squeezing gently as he slowly slid up your shirt, his fingers tickling your stomach moments later. 

You broke the kiss to switch angles, holding him by the back of his neck, pressing your chest as close to his as possible in an unspoken request for him to go further. He lifted you off the floor and your legs wrapped around his waist. 

Your mind was screaming at you for letting yourself slip between the cracks of Haru’s fingers again, but your body was aching, rolling with heat that only Haruchiyo could extinguish. 

With that, he flopped you onto your bed, kneeling between your legs and started to unbutton his shirt. “I missed you so fucking much,” he said, throwing his shirt somewhere into the dark corner of your room. 

You bit your tongue to stop yourself from saying it back.

 “Open your mouth,” he commanded, digging into his pants pocket for a baggie of MDMA pills. He placed one on your tongue, and slotted one on his, letting it dissolve on his tongue before leaning down to lick into your mouth. This was the level of sloppiness he’s craved, rolling his tongue against yours, sucking on it until you caved, running your hands along his chest until they reached his pants.

You hooked a finger into his belt loop, unbuckling the item and sliding it off him. He broke the kiss to look down at your hands as they disappeared into his pants, his mouth dropping open as you brushed his cock lightly. “F—fuck…”

“Feel good?” You whisper in his ear, tugging his earlobe between your teeth. 

“Yeah,” he murmurred, leaning down to lay a littany of sloppy kisses down your neck and chest. You lifted your arms up and helped him remove your shirt before he was groping your chest. 

His hands slid under your body and unfastened your bra, tossing it in the same direction he disposed of his shirt. “Never seen someone with better tits than yours, fuck.” He sat back and squeezed them together, enjoying the sight of his hands alone covering your whole breast. “You’re so sexy.” 

His head lowered close enough until he latched onto a nipple, his tongue circled around it as he licked and sucked. Your chest stuttered in your chest as his warm mouth made you dizzy. “Haru.”

“Hm?” He moved to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment. “What’s wrong?”

The effects of the pill had your mind blanking and sensations intensifying. Every vein in your body was on full alert as you felt the raw jittery energy run through them. “Keep going.”

He grinned as he watched your trip start and began sucking down your stomach. Your hands bunched up his hair, unaware of the tight grip you possessed when his tongue stopped above your abdomen. He all but ripped your pants off, leaving your underwear on and continued his journey to your thighs. 

“Haru, come on,” you whispered, impatient. You were just as hungry to see him between your legs as he was to eat you out.

“Fuck…you look really good…” he murmurs as he raked his eyes down your body, focused on the spread of your legs. He hooked his finger under your panties and tugged on it, your slick attaching to his finger and he licked his lips. “So wet already?” 

“...shut up.”

He chuckled and began pulling your panties down. Two big palms spread your legs to make enough room for his face. His eyes sparkled with admiation like he’s eyeing the worlds holiest relic. The moonlight bouncing from the window only made your wet folds glisten, paired up with the way the drugs melted through his system made his mouth water. He got a little lost in the moment when he slides a finger through your folds, relishing in the hitched moan that left your moan. 

How he missed that sound. How he missed your sounds.

Your little breathless ‘please’ was lost behind closed ears when he licked a long stripe on your cunt. A muffled slur of his name slipped from your mouth as he slowly ate you out, focusing on the way your wetness felt on his tongue. His lips latched onto your clit, sucking obscenly so that your back arched off the bed. 

Drinking from you is so addictive and sweet he thinks he might cry if he has to pull away. He pulled you closer, your body being dragging along the sheets as he continued to devour you. The closer your body was, the more hungry he felt, and his nails dug into your numb thighs painfully. 

His tongue lazily licked up and down at your clit until your legs were squeezing his head, shifting restlessly on the bed to get him away from you. 

“H—haru, fuck fuck fuck,” you whimpered, pulling his hair aggressively as your body shook with pleasure. 

“Not yet, baby. I’m not done,” he spoke into your pussy, moving back to your clit. “Wanna lick you dry, holy shit.” 

“I can’t—” You whined, trying to push him off you. After a couple more scratching and tugging, he pulled away, the bottom half of his face soaked in your slick. 

“If you can’t even handle my tongue, how can you handle my cock?” As if to prove his point, his cock was thick and hard in his boxers when he stood up, moving to kneel between your legs. 

Watching Haruchiyo strip was like a holy rite, the way his dick sprung out from his boxers. Especially when he began palming his length, pushing more and more precum from the tip with each jerk.  Your mouth watered as you sat up slowly to get on your knees, moving to the end of the bed where he stood.

You wrapped a hand around his cock, making his hips jerk forward when you began to lap at the bead of precum beading at the tip. He let out a faint moan at the way your lips suctioned around his cock, the warmth of your mouth making his head spin the lower you sunk down.

“Just like that…” he bit his lip drawing blood as you started to bob your head up and down. Your jaw ached from the stretch and it took everything in you not to choke, but you wanted to please him, so you endured it and took him as far in as you could.

The second your nose brushed his pelvis, his hand flew to the back of your head and held you down there, head thrown back, mouth flopped open as he let out puffy breaths with each passing second your throat convulsed around his cock.

He pulled you off and positioned you onto all fours, rubbing and smacking at a single cheek. “You know what you do to me?” He licked his lips, moving his cock between your thighs and began to slowly fuck them. 

The heat of his cock plus the wetness between your legs made you slowly fuck back, face tucked between your arms. His cock is nestled perfectly between your thighs and to tempt him more, you squeeze your thighs together, fighting back a laugh when he groans.

“Oh, it’s like that huh?” He pulled out and you never felt more empty despite him not even fucking you yet. “You wanna keep that same attitude in five seconds?”

“Wha— fuck!” you moaned out, nails scratching the sheets when he sheathed himself inside you in one thrust. “Oh my god! F—fuck!” Your body bounced back against him as he held your hips, fucking into you like you’re a fuck toy, submissive and pliant.

He threw his head back, closing his eyes as your pussy squeezed and gushed around his cock. He fucked you till you’re stuffed, your walls dragging along his cock with every thrust. 

“You feel so fucking good,” he mumbles, voice borderline shaking. He stopped moving and spanked you again, making you jolt. “Fuck back onto it.”

“N—no,” you managed to stutter out, still keeping your stubborn demeanour. 

“No?” His thrusts came to a stop. 

“Don’t stop.” You frowned, straining your weak muscles to look behind you, but he shoved your face back into the sheets. 

He bent forward until his back was flush against yours, and spoke into your ear. “I said fuck back onto it.” He dug his hands into your hair and lifted you up. “You gonna do as I say?”

“Y—yes.” He let go of your hair and moved back and watched with wild eyes as you slowly pushed off his cock and back down. “O—oh my god,” you moaned out, digging your face back into the sheets as you continued fucking yourself on his cock. Every now and then he’d slap your ass and groan into your ear, all sinful and low enough to spur you on and go crazy on his cock even more. 

Sanzu practically felt your whole body go numb as you silently screamed into the sheets as your body trembled. Your orgasm was intense and he snapped his hips forward, making your silent scream a yelp as he pinned you back down to the bed, fucking into you with the intent of cumming inside you. You could feel his hips stutter and after a couple seconds, he slammed once more then there was a wet squelch and a moan followed by heavy panting. 

He pulled out and sat back, wiping the sweat from his forehead. Your body was stiff and limp and the lack of energy made it hard for you to move. After a couple seconds, you heard him slide off the bed and begin looking around your room for his clothes. In the time it took him to change back into his clothes, you managed to lift yourself enough to roll over onto your back. 

After fixing his belt, he pulled out his phone and read a message from Mikey before putting it back into his pocket. “I gotta go. Got more business to take care of.” He winked at you, taunting you now that you know the meaning behind his ‘business’ and swiftly shut the door behind him.

#—tr </3 #sanzu x reader #sanzu haruchiyo x reader #haruchiyo sanzu x reader #sanzu imagines #haruchiyo smut #sanzu smut #tr x reader #tr smut #tokrev x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tokrev smut #tokyo revengers x reader

[neptuneiris]

Behind the Scenes (03/05)

Behind the Negotiation

pairing: actor!aemond × fem!reader

summary: knowing that you can't run away from your past forever, you receive unexpected visitors in your home that make you fear for your son's future.

word counter: 8.9k

previous part • next part • series masterlist

warnings: angst, arguments, language,mention of abortion.

guys, I'm sorry for the delay, with this chapter a lot of unexpected things came across my way, but I've finally finished it and I'm satisfied with the result, although I'm not sure if you will like it, it might bore you but I don't know, please let me know :)

without more to say, enjoy it and thanks for all the support, really! let me know your comments too, I'll be waiting for them!

You still remember it all too well.

You remember how you accepted Aemond's terms, the terms of his agent Criston and also of his entire team.

You agreed to keep the existence of your child a secret, to hide in the shadows with him and to keep a low profile until it was "safe" for Aemond's career to publicly and legally acknowledge the baby.

But you only accepted to take that worry off everyone's mind and especially his, so you could run away. Although the reality is that you were scared.

At first, Aemond's power, influence and connections kept you paralyzed, thinking about the consequences of breaking all ties with him.

And running away from him, disappearing from his life along with your son was a decision you had to make carefully and then had to live with in fear and dread of being found someday.

And the fear of possible legal reprisals for your escape and uncertainty about the consequences were present at every turn. But you did everything to live in freedom, not to destroy Aemond's career and to protect your son from all public exposure.

You always knew that Aemond with his celebrity status possesses power, not only in the entertainment industry, but also in the media and social sphere, that was obvious, just like any other celebrity.

So finding you could be as easy as snapping his fingers.

So to prevent Aemond from tracking your movements so he could find you, you began by discarding any means of transportation that could be easily monitored or tracked.

You avoided airports and bus terminals, opting instead for small train stations and local buses, always paying with cash. You left King's Landing and the entire state, going all the way to the Iron Islands.

In Pike, with the money you had left over, you were able to rent a room to yourself in a cheap hotel, then quickly began to look around for a job in the surrounding area in search of an opportunity that could provide you with support and stability.

You knew you couldn't get a job like the one you had before, on a recording set with a big salary. So downtown, you found a job at a beauty salon.

Not only does she own a beauty salon, she also owns a few small apartments in the city and offered you one of them at a lower price, considering you were just starting out with a new job.

The owner of the place, Becca Waters, a kind and understanding woman, saw potential and also the need in you.

Knowing your condition and that you practically came to live in a place where you knew nothing and no one, she also offered you a place to live and be safe.

Mrs. Waters became a fundamental support for you, providing guidance, encouragement, flexibility and stability in your financial need and also in your pregnancy.

With her you felt completely safe and supported at a time when you needed it most. After all you had gone through to get here, leaving your life behind and pregnant, she was your reward.

But still nothing was easy after that.

Your pregnancy process was a roller coaster of emotions, challenges and moments. Facing motherhood as a single mom was an overwhelming reality.

On the one hand, even though the baby was unplanned, you were excited to know that you would soon be holding him in your arms, but on the other hand, you also felt fear and anxiety at the responsibility of raising a child alone with no knowledge of anything really.

The first few months of pregnancy were especially difficult.

You experienced pain, symptoms and discomforts that you had no idea about and had to endure, as well as a slight state of depression and anxiety about dealing with all of this on your own.

But through it all, Becca was your pillar of support at all times, who became your confidant, giving you comfort and encouragement in difficult times. And she was the one who helped you throughout your pregnancy and also the one who was by your side when you gave birth to your child.

And even though you didn't want to, being in a very vulnerable state, you couldn't help but feel lonely and miss Aemond, just as you missed everything you once used to be.

But remembering everything that happened the last time you saw him, even though the feeling disappeared, you also couldn't help but start crying.

And to protect yourself emotionally, you decided to stay away from news about Aemond.

You avoided social media and any content that could remind you of your past with him. Your determination was great to be able to raise your child alone, without relying on Aemond's presence or acknowledgement.

And the day your son finally came into the world, it was a moment of joy and wonder that could not be compared to any other moment in life, filling your heart with indescribable happiness.

However, the birth also brought with it a torrent of new worries and challenges.

Childbirth was exhausting and intense. Nothing you've ever experienced before. And in the days that followed, the constant care of the newborn, the lack of sleep and the adjustment to your new life were heavy challenges that pushed you to the limit many times.

But in spite of that, every smile, every little gesture of your son filled your world with immense love, as well as Mrs. James' help in guiding you in practical aspects of motherhood increased your unwavering determination to go forward for him, being your driving force.

Although also the arrival of your son into the world increased your fear in you.

The fear that Aemond and his team might find you and take your son away from you was a constant worry. But despite this, there were moments of uncertainty when you thought too much about it.

You wondered why Aemond would bother looking for you and your child. Clearly the baby was a risk to his career and he didn't even want to support you from the start, only accepting it later because that was your decision.

You knew he wouldn't but you were still afraid.

Would Aemond really seek you out after he initially supported the idea of abortion?

Would he really seek you out after he supported your decision even if he didn't want to but in the shadows, avoiding any public acknowledgement and hiding you and your son?

But just when you had gotten used to it, had found stability with a job and a permanent refuge in the beauty salon with Mrs. Waters, a few months after the birth of your son, Mrs. Waters was forced to close the salon due to unforeseen financial problems.

That place that had been your refuge and where you found support and friendship, suddenly disappeared, leaving you with a feeling of emptiness, uncertainty and nostalgia.

Mrs. Waters would have to leave town and although you didn't want to, you also decided to do the same, convinced that you would be safer with your son in a place you knew well, avoiding at all times the places you used to go with Aemond and where you knew you could meet him.

So after looking for a job, with your resume and previous excellent references, in the city where the entire film industry resides, you got a job as a makeup artist in a different recording studio than the one you had worked in before.

There was no way you could meet Aemond, or so you thought.

Previously the TV network was BBC, now it was HBO for whom you would be working on a new TV show, so you really had nothing to worry about, especially since the pay was very good and you could survive just fine on that for you and your child.

But right on your first day of work, life decided to surprise you.

And now you are here, in your new apartment where you were planning to live temporarily until you find a better one, but now with you running away on your first day it means definite dismissal for sure, so you have no idea how you are going to pay for a better one or how you are going to pay for this one next month so you won't get kicked to the street.

But you can't even think straight as you are still shaking, your emotions are running high, you have no idea what really happened, it was all very fast between talking and remembering the past.

And the only thing that gives you some peace in the midst of your own thoughts and everything you're feeling, are the sounds of Aenar's toys and babbling in the living room, playing on the floor and touching everything he can.

His silver hair shines from the sunlight coming through the windows and he giggles as his colorful toys bump into each other, showing a world of happiness and innocent curiosity, completely filling your heart but you still feel that sharp ache in your chest.

You move towards him with a soft sigh and take a seat next to him, keeping a small genuine smile on your lips but with some melancholy, when he starts showing you all his toys and asks you between babbling and giggles to play with him.

You move the toys back and forth, ask him questions in honeyed tones and he laughs, making you laugh too, but you continue with the tumult of your overwhelming thoughts.

You think about what you will do now, that you should probably look for a job at a new beauty salon, which is what you should have done as soon as you got back, find a subtle job instead of going back to what you were doing before so suddenly.

However the paycheck was what made you take it and you need it too much, so you'll have to look for other alternatives.

You find yourself thinking about it when you suddenly hear the sound of the door completely interrupting your thoughts and also your game with Aenar.

You look towards the entrance, confused, with a strange feeling growing in your chest, immediately giving you a bad feeling. For who would come knocking at your door?

No one knows you're back… except Aemond.

Oh Gods.

The thought makes you paralyzed, feeling your whole body tense up, your heart starts beating fast and fear invades you completely.

Could it be him?

You wonder, struggling to stay calm, even though there's no way he could have figured out so quickly where you're living.

Or has he?

The thought leaves you completely paralyzed, with a mixture of anxiety and fear flowing inside you.

The knocking on the door becomes more insistent and you carefully get up and leave Aenar still amused in his game on the floor, then walk towards the door feeling a lump in your throat and a growing uneasiness.

You reach for the doorknob and as you turn it to open, your heart skips a beat when you find Aemond's agent standing in front of you, Criston Cole.

A trace of surprise and confusion flashes across your face, feeling your body tighten further and the fear linger.

How did he know where you were?

What is he doing here?

Criston returns you a serious but understanding look, beginning to feel the tension between the two of you, while you feel the fear invade you again because of the old memories and being him one of the main reasons why you decided to run away.

His mere presence triggers a series of emotions that take you by surprise. With no trace of Aemond or anyone else around you, yet your mind races.

Nervousness invades every fiber of your being, while your heart beats faster and stronger than usual. A sense of discomfort invades you and you also feel alert, afraid, unable to control it.

"Y/N."

He pronounces your name with a slight nod. His tone tries to be reassuring, but confusion and bewilderment wash over you.

You say nothing for a few seconds, feeling unable to speak and unable to formulate any words, barely trying at that moment to process the situation. Anxiety creeps through your chest, as he gives you and respects your space, aware of your unease.

"I understand that you're surprised by my visit and I don't want to make you uncomfortable, I really don't. But we need to talk."

The confusion inside you increases and so does the fear, to watch him completely bewildered and on the verge of collapse.

"H-how—

You try to ask with your voice cracking in the midst of all your emotions, but he interrupts you in response, knowing what you're going to ask.

"My team," he lets you know, "They handled finding you."

He tells you seriously and with that touch of professionalism in his tone, but his response only surprises and puzzles you more, to which Criston notices.

You feel the questions pile up in your head, but you barely manage to articulate a word, besides all the emotions you're feeling, fear mainly.

"Aemond informed us of your return," he adds, "After he didn't find you again, he asked us to look for you," he tells you calmly, trying to make his eyes convey an attempt at empathy for you.

But you don't believe that one bit. Not after what happened the last time you saw him and his entire team.

You feel a surge of vulnerability wash over you, leaving you suddenly helpless before him. You don't have the slightest idea how you will be able to cope with that situation, how to get away from them again now that they have found you, especially him.

"What have you really come for?" you question, not hiding your distrust.

Criston keeps a serene attitude and look, seeking to soften the tension, but notices your demeanor and posture, of fear and alertness altogether.

"Just to talk," he tells you softly, "Believe me the last thing I want and Aemond too is to cause you trouble. We just want to talk and nothing more," he explains, but you are having none of it, "He was going to come himself, but he had to film some scenes. But he'll come as soon as he can."

This just adds more weight to the anxiety and nervousness you're already feeling, so it triggers an alert in you that makes you feel completely freaked out, definitely not wanting that.

"No," you try to retort with a firm tone, but your vulnerability shows in your trembling voice and nervous expression, "Please leave."

Concern flashes across Criston's face for an instant, unconsciously taking a step towards you.

"Y/N–

"Please," you plead, "Just go away and don't come back, none of you, not even him."

"Y/N, please, just let me—

"No," you interrupt him again, more desperate than before, "Please," you repeat.

The atmosphere is filled with a silence full of tension, where your words, full of desperation and longing to get away from the situation, float in the air, also asking for urgent distance and tranquility.

And Criston lets out a sigh.

"Just a few minutes," he says, struggling to find some control in the situation, "Just-let us talk to you, Aemond and me."

"If it's to talk about his career and his son, I'm not interested," you say firmly, but your trembling voice gives away your emotions, "We've talked about that before," you say with some bitterness and sadness in your tone, "You can go now. I don't plan on staying anyway."

Without having let go of the door frame, you try to close the door, ending all of this, but he instantly speaks again, stopping you.

"Please Y/N, Aemond is very worried and wishes to speak with you," he insists, "He hasn't been the same since you left, you should know that," he adds in a persuasive tone.

You let out a snort in disbelief and with some bitterness, as you look away from his gaze for a moment.

"I highly doubt that."

"Y/N—

The sound of Aenar's innocent laughter while playing with his toys catches Criston's attention, stopping his words, who unconsciously catches a glimpse inside your living room where Aenar is playing and also catches a glimpse of his small figure on the floor with his characteristic silver hair.

This immediately triggers your concern and increases your protective mode and you quickly close the door a little behind you, blocking his view, while your heart is pounding.

This is what you meant.

You don't want anything bad to happen to your son, in any way. And you will do anything to protect him, because they decided everything except to protect you and now you will not allow them to intervene in your son's life now that they know he is here.

"Y/N," he calls to you in a softer voice, watching you completely intently and desperately asking you with his gaze for a moment.

"Please don't," you plead with him, at the point of collapsing from worry and frustration.

Again you enter the apartment as you hold the door frame tightly to close it, but Criston stops you again.

"You must understand the gravity of what happened," he tells you seriously, "Your disappearance put Aemond's relationship with his son in danger. There are legal implications for you to consider, such as custody," he says and your heart flips, "I can explain all of this to you and resolve it in the best way possible," he looks at you in insistence, "But only if you let me in so we can talk."

And there they are again. Your greatest fears.

The word 'custody' repeats over and over in your mind, like a loop, causing you greater fear, worry and pressure than before, the gravity of the situation and the looming legal implications being clear.

The air weighs on you, heavy with uncertainty and intense tension, as well as you are overcome with the urge to cry because of your doubts and fear.

"Wh-what-" you try to speak in a whisper, your voice cracking and your heart in a fist, "Custody?" you repeat under your breath.

Criston watches you with some pity and understanding, then lowers his gaze, lets out a sigh and watches you with that sympathy and also a little expectant.

"May I come in?"

Try one more time and maybe it's because of his words that your mind is in a state of alarm that makes you recognize that you can't run away again or else things will get worse. And you don't want that. You are afraid for yourself and Aenar.

Feeling more of your anxiety, you finally allow him to enter and Criston at this thanks you with his gaze and moves carefully, noticing your visible discomfort and also your fear, not wanting to alter you any further with absolutely nothing.

And once the door closes, you immediately stand in front of Aenar with a weak and vulnerable posture trying to look strong, this catching his attention and feeling something warm in his chest at the presence of the little one.

But he also knows exactly why you react this way and he doesn't blame you for it, much less does it bother him because he understands you.

"I'm very honest when I tell you that we really don't want to create more trouble, Y/N," he tells you in a soft tone, "Aemond…. he really is very worried. And since he is my client, we don't want any legal implications or further conflict."

You try to keep your composure, but your thoughts are a storm of confused emotions. The very idea of dealing with legal issues, especially regarding your son, is overwhelming to you.

"Why now?" you ask in a trembling voice, your gaze searching for answers, "All this… why?"

Criston exhales slowly, trying to find the right words.

"The situation has changed, basically since you left. Aemond was wrong at the time and I admit I was too, so now he's willing to acknowledge your son, in every way possible."

You can't help but look incredulous and bitter once again.

"It's already too late for that, don't you think?" you ask him in a bitter tone.

Criston looks down for a moment, his expression one of compassion and understanding towards your perspective.

"Yes, we know," he nods to you, "And that's why we're here, trying to keep all this from becoming a bigger problem. But please Y/N, understand that Aemond doesn't want to hurt you or cause you any more trouble than he's already caused."

"And until now you say that?" you inquire sad, worried, fearful and indignant, "That's what I needed to hear before when I was scared, because I was scared too Criston, not just Aemond," you let him know, with tears in the corners of your eyes, "But you treated me like a problem you needed to get rid of, you and him."

Criston listens to your words with a gesture in his eyes that reflects the heaviness of the situation, just as you see shame and regret wash over him, suddenly seeing him as the vulnerable one and you as the strong one compared to years ago, the roles reversing for a moment.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. We didn't mean to make you feel that way," he says in a regret-laden tone.

"Sorry doesn't change anything," you say, fighting back tears.

You watch him with your hard stare and sad eyes, feeling several tears fall down your cheeks, making you remember once again.

And once again without letting it drown you, you force yourself to push those memories away, all your moments of uncertainty, fear and pain, to brush your tears away from your cheeks with a strong look of determination.

"I will accept any legal consequences if there are any," you say suddenly, trying to keep your composure, "If there are legal actions, I'm willing to face them. But for now, I just want to be left alone, please."

"Y/N," Criston calls you cautiously, "I just want you to understand that we want to do the right thing now. And what we want to do is find a solution that works for you and for Aemond regarding him," he points to Aenar with his gaze behind you, "Something that guarantees your privacy while not damaging his public image."

Then all the effect of his words completely disappear on you.

You feel a surge of frustration, annoyance and despair at the realization that still the main concern remains Aemond's career.

"Do you still think about his career?" you ask with disappointment and resentment in your tone.

"Y/N—

"The most important thing here is my son," you stand strong, "But he seems to be only one aspect of Aemond's image, doesn't he?"

"Even after all this time that has passed, Aemond's career is more successful and even promising than before, that is something that neither you, him nor I should forget, let alone ignore," he tries to explain to you, "Aemond wants to fix things but his career must also be contemplated, please understand this Y/N."

"Then why do you say you want to do things the right way now if that is not true?" you inquire.

"Yes it is true," he clarifies, "But within all of this, his career must still be contemplated."

You shake your head in disbelief, unable to believe it.

"You say a lot of things Criston, but it's clear what matters most to you," you say with no emotion in your voice, "And sure, why shouldn't his career matter most to you? After all… you don't know what it's like to get pregnant, without support and go through the whole process by yourself, and then raise a child on your own, without the support of his father."

"I don't mean to—

"Please go away," you plead once more and this again alerts him.

"Y/N—

He tries to speak but the sound of the door echoes throughout the living room, drawing your full attention and Criston's as well.

The atmosphere again becomes heavier than before, as well as all your confidence disappears, already knowing who it is and you are confirmed by the fact that the person behind the door knocks more insistently, sounding desperate.

With your fearful gaze and your whole body tense, you quickly move towards Aenar, who is still playing completely oblivious to everything that is happening on the floor and you take him in your arms with haste but also care.

You hold him tightly against your body, as a way to protect him from everything outside and also from all people especially while trying to contain all your emotions.

And Criston, who also knows who it is, rushes to the door to open it.

And there on the doorway, the figure of Aemond comes into view, with all the desperation and longing in his gaze, the worry and anguish too, as you muster the courage to be able to look him in the eye again, holding Aenar a little more firmly against your chest.

But your son's body is visible to the eye and that's what makes Aemond completely paralyzed at the sight of you with his son in your arms.

Surprise is completely reflected in his whole look, immediately followed by a bunch of emotions that start to pile up in his whole being and want to come out, as he feels his whole body tense up and a feeling in his stomach invades him.

This leaves him and you in a state of momentary restlessness, where time seems to stand still and the silence is too loud. You, with your gaze fixed on him, try to keep your composure with a mixture of fear, insecurity and some determination to protect your son at all costs.

It didn't take long for Aemond's surprise to turn into a moment of awe and a surge of overwhelming emotions. The mere sight of you with his child in your arms triggers disbelief, pent-up longing and a feeling of suppressed joy.

"Y/N," Aemond calls your name in a whisper, his tone laden with surprise and visible regret, where his gaze can't tear away from you and Aenar.

You say nothing, just watch him back without saying anything, with all your emotions reflecting in your eyes.

The moment is just the three of you, so Criston turns away completely, not interfering and saying absolutely nothing, while you continue in your protective mode and Aemond is still processing this whole moment.

With excitement clashing against the surprise in his eyes, he tries to process the reality of having his son before him for the first time.

He searches for the right words to speak, but his stuck mind won't let him, nor will the lump in his throat and stomach as he continues to watch the scene in front of him; you with his son in your arms.

He tries to say something, but his lips barely half open and the words won't come out, feeling his heart beating too fast and hard.

And you with your gaze full of expectation, fear and caution, Aemond finally looks at you again, aware of all the emotional charge you feel, just like him, as well as your fear and distrust after everything that happened.

"C-can… can I come closer?"

He finally asks cautiously, his voice with a tone of longing and nervousness barely contained.

You hesitate at that moment.

Feeling the weight of the situation and the emotions that are triggered at that moment, despite everything, you feel very vulnerable and you also feel his vulnerability, also that longing to touch Aenar and hold him.

And despite the way he acted with you almost two years ago and also the way Criston and all his team treated you, you don't feel able to be as cruel as they were with you back then.

You don't want to be like them and also aware that this day would come sooner or later, you watch Aenar for a moment, leave a soft kiss on his forehead and again watch Aemond, then nod in his direction with a barely perceptible gesture.

You allow Aemond your closeness and he with extreme care begins to approach you slowly, as if fearing that a sudden movement could fade the magical and longing moment.

Aemond's heartbeat echoes in your ears as he finally stands in front of your son.

Aenar, completely oblivious to everything, senses the nearness of someone else and raises his curious gaze to Aemond, watching him with those bright blue eyes.

And upon seeing that man with the same hair color as his own, his eyes light up with a gleam of curiosity, lightly waving his arms and also his body.

With his teary eye, he watches you for a moment, to again focus on Aenar and with a mixture of excitement and awe, he extends one of his trembling hands towards his small, delicate face.

And when the touch of his fingers against his soft skin of his cheek makes itself felt, Aemond feels an unfamiliar sensation invade him completely.

A sad but honest smile full of melancholy appears on his lips as he gently and carefully traces his face, running his hand up to his silver hair, gazing intently into those blue eyes just like his own as Aenar watches him with that playful innocence but also just as curious as his own.

You, unsure of exactly what to feel or think, watch as he carefully reaches out both arms and begins to hold his body, feeling the warmth and weight of his small body now resting in his arms.

That unfamiliar, overwhelming feeling from before comes over him even more strongly as he holds his son for the first time, when Aenar lifts one of his hands and touches his left cheek, where his scar is.

The emotion makes his breath hitch as he struggles to hold back the tears of restrained happiness that will come at any moment.

It was a moment he had imagined countless times, but had never believed possible until this instant.

Aenar, captivated by the newness and warmth in the arms of Aemond, his father, laughs innocently, his eyes dazzling a happiness as he notices the familiarity in that new face above him. And at his gesture, Aemond lets out a choked laugh, completely captivated by him.

And unable to contain himself any longer, the first sob escapes his throat and the tears fall, instantly pulling his son's face to his chest, embracing him with gentleness and that security that makes him feel so vulnerable when Aenar settles perfectly in his arms.

Guilt, sadness, joy, emotion, everything invades him in that moment.

And he lets out more tears for the comfort that Aenar gives him in his arms, that feeling of protection and even… love, that makes him feel even more vulnerable.

And you are still there, close to them but giving Aemond his space, watching everything attentively with your heart in a fist and feeling sensations you had not felt before at the scene, with tears also wanting to slide down your cheeks.

After a few more seconds, Aemond slurps his nose and looks over Aenar's small shoulder at you with all the vulnerability in his gaze.

"I-I know I don't deserve this," he says with his voice cracking, trying to control himself but he can't.

And he is about to say something else but you watching his expression, a mixture of regret and deep sadness, you step forward to speak.

"In spite of everything, he deserves to know his father," you murmur with your trembling voice and teary eyes, "Aenar deserves this," you assure him, accepting it as you watch the scene of the two of them.

Aemond nods, unable to articulate words, still feeling the lump in his throat, his face reflecting pain, regret and a sadness you have never seen in him before, as his tears continue to fall as he embraces his son.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, unable to contain the emotion, turning to him and to you. "I'm so sorry. I-I didn't know how to face it…how to be there."

Silence again settles throughout the apartment, only being filled by Aemond's soft crying, as you silently weep and continue to watch the two of them.

A few minutes have passed since Aemond and your son met for the first time.

Aenar laughs with delight as Aemond plays with him with one of his toys. They are both immersed in a little world of fun where it's just the two of them, surrounded by Legos blocks, small plastic cars and puppets.

You watch everything, or almost everything, without interfering and giving them both their space, watching your son enjoy a special moment that on another occasion, could have been a daily routine with a different life.

Criston doesn't say or do anything either, he at all times stands in the corner watching the whole interaction, letting Aemond have his moment with his son, genuinely feeling happy for him.

And even though the scene makes you feel warm in your heart, being a scene you longed for before, you still still feel insecure, afraid and overwhelmed by this whole situation.

This doesn't really change anything. You have only given Aemond the opportunity to meet his son because your son deserves it, nothing more.

Inside you are still just as scared and in expectation that at any moment this whole 'beautiful' moment will fade away. And that's exactly what happens when you hear Criston's voice all over the living room.

"I wouldn't want to ruin the moment, truly," he says seriously and honestly, "But it's important that we talk about all this so we can resolve it properly."

This immediately catches your attention and also Aemond's, with whom you exchange a quick glance, again feeling your whole body tremble and out of the same nervousness you are overcome with the impulse to take your son in your arms to feel safe.

"It is important that we talk about the child, about what you are going to do now," he turns to Aemond, "Custody is important and all that goes with it."

"I don't understand why you keep talking about custody," you look at him nervously and annoyed, "I alone have cared for and raised Aenar all this time."

"I know this is complicated and sudden, Y/N," Criston tells you, "But we need to approach this whole thing responsibly."

"Responsibility?" you repeat incredulously, "What responsibility are you exactly talking about?"

"Y/N," Aemond immediately interjects, "Listen to me, please," he gets up from the floor leaving Aenar playing alone and walks towards you, "It's not my intention to take our son away from you, truly. But we must make sure we have legal rights to be in his life," he explains to you, "You were the one who ran away, who disappeared without a word. I didn't know what happened to you."

You look at him uncomprehendingly, with your hurt and desperate gaze.

"You talk about custody and rights when in the beginning that was the last thing on your mind, Aemond," you observe him incredulously, "And you keep reproaching me for running away when you know perfectly well that I did it so I could live and so I wouldn't ruin your career, which was all you were thinking about."

Regret again invades Aemond's face, as the atmosphere becomes denser, full of mixed emotions where fear and anger resurfaces with everything else.

Any trace of calm and peace, has ceased to exist, only being perceived by Aenar, who continues oblivious and innocent to all this in his games.

"I-I…" Aemond tries to speak, "I'm sorry for everything, Y/N. But back then...

His sentence hangs in suspense, not knowing what else to say, trying to find the right words without wanting to generate more tension, but that's what he involuntarily does.

"Back then," you repeat, your emotions running high, "Back then you were too busy taking care of your public image, supporting the idea of an abortion without consulting me, then supporting the idea of hiding me and my child as if we were a problem, which in fact we were and as if it was my only option, leaving me with no alternatives," you express with frustration and pain marked in every word.

Regret remains in Aemond's facial expressions, looking visibly affected by your words, grief-stricken and with a regret throughout his body that affirms to him that you are absolutely right, each word being like a dagger straight to his heart.

"Y-you don't know how much I regret and blame myself for all of that, Y/N," he tells you with vulnerability in his tone, "And I know I don't deserve it, any of this, not even that you allowed me to meet him and that I'm now in the same place as him," he says with regret, "But I want to find a solution that works for both of us," he whispers sadly.

The room is again consumed by silence, except for the sound of Aenar's toy movements, which is what catches Aemond's attention for a moment to smile a little more melancholy.

The situation becomes increasingly complex as your emotions continue to run high between anger and sadness, with the memory of past times still latent, but also with the uncertainty of the future.

And Criston, trying to keep calm, intervenes again.

"I understand that you both have different perspectives on what happened. But now we need to think about the future, of your son," he says seriously, "It's not just about custody, it's about finding a way to strike a fair balance, but… thinking about your career too, Aemond."

You let out a disbelieving, ironic snort again, shaking your head.

"His career,'" you repeat with a bitter tone, your voice a mixture of sarcasm and disappointment.

Aemond, watching you sadly and remorsefully, speaks in a calm but regret-laden voice.

"I don't want you to look at this that way, Y/N—

"That's just the way I see it," you interrupt him, serious and sad, "This is exactly why I left. This is why when I saw you again, I decided to run away again," you say hurt, "Now that you've met him, you want to be in his life, but you still prefer to hide us. This kind of life is the one you wanted to give us at the beginning and now you still do too."

Your revelations Aemond had already heard, but at that moment, again that sharp pain in his chest becomes present, as well as guilt, remorse and regret at seeing your sad face with such honest words.

"All I want is to come to an agreement, Y/N, please—

"You're not going to hide us," you interrupt him firmly.

"Aemond," he calls him seriously.

"No, that's not my intention—

He insists desperately but Criston intervenes.

"Don't," Aemond interrupts him instantly, turning serious and with an annoyed expression towards him, "We can't hide the truth anymore, Criston. Things must change."

"Look, I understand that this is difficult for you," he begins in a serious and cautious tone, "But still, we must consider the consequences. There's a lot at stake here, your career," he reminds him, "You have numerous job offers. Your show on HBO is the most famous show on the platform and the most watched show on television so far. How do you think people are going to react when they find out about your son?"

The room sinks into another silence, as you watch him with your hard, sad face, frustration, annoyance and irritation inside you, watching as Criston continues to treat your son like he's a problem.

And it hurts you.

Because Aemond doesn't even say anything.

"We can find a way to handle all this without putting at risk everything you have achieved, Aemond. And if you get a share of the custody, your son will be under your protection without harming your image," he proposes with an insistent look, seeking his approval.

You look away again, completely incredulous and with helplessness all over you.

It's not Aemond, it's Criston.

It is he who continues to manipulate Aemond to prioritize his career over his son, so that everything revolves around public image and fame, diverting attention from the well-being of your son.

And what can you really do there?

He is his agent, the person who has positioned him where he is now, making him famous, relevant, telling him what roles to take in movies or TV shows that are going to ensure one more success to his career.

"If you listen to him…" you begin to say in his direction with a trembling but firm tone, "If you do what he tells you, I swear I won't care what I have to do, even go into debt to get a good lawyer," you warn, "I will fight for the custody of Aenar and when I get it, I assure you that you will never see him again, ever."

Your words slip from your lips with a determination that completely surprises Aemond, surprise and concern visible on his face, watching you hurt for a moment, his mind a complete mess.

But it is not he who speaks, but Criston who takes the floor once more.

"If that's what you want, Y/N… that's fine," he tells you seriously, his gaze cold and calculating. "But let me warn you, we're trying to come to an agreement—

"The two of you or you specifically?" you snap at him.

"That doesn't matter, Aemond is my client and my job is to secure and protect his career," he tells you seriously, "And if you'd rather take this to fighting for full custody of Aenar, then so be it," he nods at you, "But I assure you, you're going to end up losing."

"That's enough."

Finally, Aemond's voice rises from where he stands, aimed directly at Criston, with a serious, hard stare that reveals a newfound determination.

"We are talking about our son, an issue that concerns her and me, this has nothing to do with you," he declares, his tone firm and his posture defiant.

"Your career has to do with me," he clarifies to her also serious, "You must think about what you are going to sacrifice. Your future, your career, the opportunities that await you-

"I said that's enough," he spits back at her, serious and annoyed, watching him with a hard stare, taking Criston by surprise.

And before he can say anything else, there is another knock on the door, drawing your full attention and making you feel completely alert, especially when Criston is the one who again goes to open the door, as if he knows exactly who it is.

And as you open the door, just like that day, Aemond's publicist, an assistant and the PR people enter your apartment.

Surprise flashes all over your face, watching with your eyes wide open the unexpected arrival of that group of people, whose intentions are not good.

"Thank you for coming," Criston tells them as he closes the door behind him.

"Of course."

Their eyes flick to you for a moment and then focus on Aenar, watching them back with curiosity in their gaze, while you feel confusion and fear completely take over you.

Despair, fear, your future, Aenar, everything mixes together in a horrible way that makes you want to vomit, letting out a couple of tears to quickly turn to your son and hold him in your arm, turning your back to them and starting to cry silently.

And Aemond, seeing your reaction, equally as surprised as you, quickly turns to Criston, his gaze full of confusion and annoyance.

"What is this? Why have you called them?" he inquires with his voice full of restrained anger.

And Criston, unabashed and uncaring of his actions, responds with a calm but calculated determination.

"We are not going before a jury to settle this, Aemond, it will be a waste of time and she will cause us more trouble," he says regardless, "This is necessary for your career, to address this whole issue strategically to protect your image, whether she likes it or not."

Aemond's expression transforms to one of frustration and helplessness.

But before he can intervene, his entire team begins to act.

"We need to establish an immediate plan, now," Criston says.

"Will the strategy be to minimize the impact on the media?" asks the publicity man.

"No, I want it hidden," Criston clarifies, "The approach must be careful and calculated. The priority is Aemond's reputation and career."

"I suggest we limit the exposure of Y/N and the child in public."

"We could create an alternative narrative to deflect attention by highlighting Aemond's professional accomplishments and minimizing the focus on his personal life."

"This must be handled with discretion. We cannot allow this situation to interfere with Aemond's career opportunities," Criston says firmly.

And so your entire living room fills with the sound of all those voices, each voice contributing ideas to control the situation, the problems, Aenar and you.

The tension intensifies, as everyone meticulously plans how to run the public narrative, completely ignoring Aemond's and your personal needs and concerns.

Tears slip down your cheeks silently as you hug Aenar tightly to your chest. This instantly catches the attention of Aemond, who steps worriedly towards you, placing his hand on your shoulder, positioning himself in front of you, but you abruptly pull away from him, watching him with an expression of pain and anguish amidst your tears and suffering face.

"Y/N—

"Why are you doing this? Why are you allowing this?" you ask in your broken, desperate voice.

"No, I swear to you I had no idea that he—

"I left, Aemond," you remind him with your voice cracking, "I left to save your career. And everything was fine, with you and me, our lives," you sob, "Why did you ask Criston to find me? Why do you care and insist on saying you want to be in our lives, when your career is still the most important thing?"

Pain and confusion echo in your words, lingering in the mind of Aemond, who in his gaze reflects a mixture of guilt, bewilderment, pain and sadness.

But everything hurts him more the moment you turn away from him, with a defeated gesture, turning your back to him and your whole body trembling in fear, Aenar in your arms being what gives you strength not to fall apart at that moment.

"We can prepare official statements to control the leaking information to minimize any negative impact on his public reputation."

"Rest assured that we need to maintain full control of this situation. We cannot allow any details to slip out," Aemond hears Criston's voice.

And that's when something snaps inside him.

Every repressed feeling bursts out in a whirlwind of emotions that were fighting to get out, your worry, the anger at himself and the guilt that invades him.

Everything explodes and ignites into a fury that he can no longer contain, seeing your state, causing him anger and feeling completely guilty.

Because everything is in fact his fault.

So without waiting a second longer, he walks to the center of the living room and with a hard, serious, completely annoyed look on his face and with his jaw clenched, he acts.

"Get out of here, all of you, now!" he exclaims, instantly drawing everyone's attention and yours as well.

For an instant everyone watches him and nothing else, slightly surprised and expectant, Criston too, unmoving and doing nothing, causing you a wave of despair.

"I said everyone out!" he exclaims in a firm voice and his gaze full of determination.

And it's only then that one by one the team finally leaves your apartment, except for Criston.

"What are you doing?" he inquires with a touch of disbelief in his tone, challenging Aemond.

"You get out of here too."

He orders him annoyed and with irritation, his voice charged with a frustration that has already reached its limit.

"Aemond, this is important, you can't just—

"I need to talk to Y/N alone," he interrupts her with his tone in a mixture of anger and determination, "I'm warning you, Criston. If you ever do anything else again without consulting me and interfering with this, I'm going to seriously consider firing you, which is what I should have done long ago," he shoots back at him with his defiant stare.

The pulse of the room beats with unbearable intensity as Aemond and Criston hold a duel of intense stares. However, in the face of Aemond's firmness, Criston finally resigns himself with a serious, annoyed look, full of frustration and resignation.

And finally he heads for the door, his footsteps sounding in the room as he leaves the apartment.

Aemond watches him leave with a mixture of relief and exhaustion, no longer feeling his shoulders tense. The silence expands once more as soon as the door closes and he turns to you with a gaze filled with a quiet, worried intensity.

The silence lingers for a few moments longer, a dense atmosphere charged with unspoken emotions. When he takes a step toward you, hesitantly.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice ringing with sincerity and regret, "What happened, my insistence… none of this was my intention, much less to cause you pain and hurt you," he admits with his vulnerability again reflected.

And even though it's just you and him in your apartment, your fear lingers.

"P-please don't take my son from me," you plead between sobs, your voice filled with anguish and fear.

Aemond's heart contracts in suffering and worry at your words, his gaze instantly reflecting it.

"What? No, no, Y/N… that is not what I want to do, it is not my intention to take our son from you."

He tells you instantly insistent but in a serene and sincere voice, taking a few more steps towards you, placing himself in front of you, trying to reassure you. But tears continue to slide down your cheeks.

"This is why I left, so I wouldn't cause you any more trouble, so I could live and keep our son safe," you repeat with your voice cracking.

"I know, Y/N, I know," he tells you sympathetically and with a soft tone, "And you don't know how much I hate myself for having been the cause of you deciding to leave, for having hurt you so much to the point of having made that decision," he says sincerely, his eye beginning to tear up, "And this is not just about him, about our son," he tries to explain, "Yes, it is important, but it is also about us," he speaks with a longing, "Since you left, I never stopped thinking about you, and I-I...

He hesitates, unable to fully express his feelings, as he stands in front of you and wants to hold you, you and your son, as he faces his deepest emotions, feeling a tear run down his cheek and looks at you with all the sincerity and pain in his gaze.

"I love you," he finally says, in a completely vulnerable whisper, trembling, lowering his gaze, unable to look you in the eye, "Despite everything, despite my mistakes, despite my work, despite everything that happened…. I-I still love you," he declares in a whisper laden with longing and regret, "And our son too."

His words get stuck in your mind.

With your heart clenched by the surge of emotions, your eyes watch him back with a mixture of surprise, pain and longing. Aemond's sincerity and vulnerability... it's all too much and makes you feel completely helpless, definitely not expecting that.

You can't speak, your words get stuck in your throat, your heart fluttering with the intensity of the moment, your surprise.

And Aemond completely understands your silence.

"I understand that you don't love me anymore and that you can't love me again, I also understand that things can't go back to the way they used to be because of my job. But please… don't keep running away," he pleads quietly, "We won't fight over custody, there will be no legal repercussions, I'm not going to do any of that," he assures you, "Just…" he lets out a long breath, "Just get back to work and let's face this together."

He proposes with his voice full of fragile but hopeful determination, unexpectedly causing you to feel a relief and a warm feeling in your chest.

"I just want Aenar to be okay and let's consider his well-being as the most important thing," you say quietly, while Aemond listens attentively with his face full of longing, regret and understanding, "But we need time and patience. Also that no one else interferes."

Aemond nods, with a slightly more relieved expression, but keeping in mind that there is much to resolve, to heal and to build.

"I understand that and… I'm willing to do whatever it takes… for him and for you," he says sincerely.

You nod too, as silence takes over again, but this time it is permeated with a shared understanding and a determination to face whatever is necessary for Aenar's well-being.

And finally after so much, you feel calm and fortunately, this time with the support of Aemond, who hesitantly leaves a gentle kiss on your forehead and another on Aenar's forehead, taking him back into his arms.

taglist:

@imaegonstargaryenswife0 @bellstwd @gibbsgirl7 @toodlesxcuddles @imsoshygirl @croatianprincess @gemini-mama @a-little-roony-mara @mysteris-things @zenka69 @at-a-rax-ia @fan-goddess @duds31 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @eternally-passionate @bellaisasleep @ttkttt @aemshaircare @mellowdreamlandpost-blog @noodle81937 @mooncalvin @queenofshinigamis @n4tforlife @vexladin @dixie-elocin @wotcherpeak @watercolorskyy @shiny-trashs-blog @strangersunghoon @elysian0612 @skzenhalove @iloveallmyboys

next part taglist:

@anehkael

#aemond targaryen #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x oc #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen angst #modern aemond #ewan mitchell #ewan nation #ewan mitchell fanfic #ewan mitchell fandom #ewan mitchell characters

[milla984]

With Neighbors Like These

Summary: Jack goes away for the weekend and Aaron and Reader can finally have some alone time (inspired by this concept)

Pairing: post season 12 Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Category: smut (NSFW, 18+, MDNI)

TW/CW: kissing, mutual masturbation, moderate dirty talk, penetrative sex, protected sex, established relationship, unspecified age gap, Hotch dealing with parenting issues, Jack is mentioned but not present

Word Count: 2k

The house was unusually quiet as you walked in, leaving your shoes at the entrance to proceed barefoot towards the small office Aaron had arranged for himself with a few retouches to the spare room in the back.

Despite having a key in case of emergencies and whatnot, like a very good neighbor, it was a common decision you’d only use it on specific occasions and mostly when Jack wasn’t around. A single soccer cleat lay abandoned in a corner in the living room; were it to happen on a regular day you knew the mere sight of it would have sparked a fierce argument, but this morning was different. 

The evening before a very concerned father had driven his fourteen-year-old son to the arranged meeting point, camping gear in tow, and Jack was now enjoying a two nights excursion somewhere in the local woods. You had a feeling that, conversely, Aaron wasn’t getting a kick out of the child-free weekend - confirmed by his rapid typing on the keyboard when you knocked on the wooden frame of the French door to catch his attention.

He looked at you and cracked a smile, still too focused on what he was doing. “It won’t take too long. I promise.”  

You dropped your purse under his chair and hugged him from behind, the scent of his aftershave filling your nose with pure delight.

“Feeling lonely, already?” 

“Why?!” he enquired. “I didn’t have to shout five times to turn off that damn videogame, last night… and nobody guzzled down half a gallon of milk directly from the bottle, at breakfast!”

“You’re also worried, I can tell,” you added and he shrugged, defeated, then went back to focusing on the screen.

He’d been working part-time as an FBI consultant for a law firm for about a year and you had never seen him putting his job before his kid: he was an active member of the PTA and even volunteered to chaperone whenever he could (something that many moms and other dads found incredibly hot, without a doubt). If he was working on a Saturday he was a hundred percent desperate for a distraction.

Your palms brushed over his shoulders and a delicate touch soon turned into a proper massage, kneading his muscles through the polo shirt he was wearing. 

“Relax. You’re too tense,” you mumbled. He had only shared a few unpleasant details about his life as a member of the Behavioral Analysis Unit in D.C. before he and Jack moved into the neighborhood; nevertheless, it didn’t take a genius to figure out his former employment as an FBI agent had taken a huge toll on both of them.

“I’m not sure I should have signed that consent form,” he confessed. 

“His entire class is with him and his teachers all have cell phones, nothing’s going to happen. Save for a few mosquito bites,” you replied. “And don’t get me wrong... but aren’t you being just a bit overprotective?!”

“Jack told me the same thing when I said I wanted to think about it. Except, he didn’t phrase it so nicely,” Aaron grinned and shook his head while he rose to his feet. “Sorry, enough with the family issues,” he apologized, “it’s a lovely Saturday morning. Have you got any interesting plans?” 

“I have. And they don’t involve homework,” you declared, and as you pushed his laptop to the opposite side of the desk he locked an arm around your waist, his expression reverting to a serious one.

“... so you’re a bad influence.”

The intimidating attitude he could pull off with a single stare never failed to make your legs turn into jelly. 

You lowered your voice to a purr. “You don’t even kn—”

His soft lips pressed onto yours stopped you mid-sentence. The fact he had a teenage son registered in your mind only as a foggy thought and the power he’d had on you since the instant you saw him jogging around the block was almost inexplicable.

“You’re right, no more homework. How about I take you out for lunch?” he proposed and the warmth of his breath on your skin ignited a fire you weren’t at all convinced you could control. Or would.

You hugged him tight, your bodies finally making contact. “How about we take care of something else, first?”

Aaron’s attitude towards romantic relationships exuded manners and consideration, the portrait of a gentleman from a different era, so the response to your suggestion came as a surprise: he’d always shown a preference for the intimacy of his bedroom, even though his palms stroking over your breasts to make your nipples grow stiff and visible through the fabric was the perfect sign he had no intention of wasting any time to move the action upstairs. 

Your tongues lustfully met in a second kiss, prompting you to let out an excited sigh as you blindly undid and removed his belt before letting it fall on the floor with a loud clunk. You reached for his zipper and he sighed in return but gasped a second later when you gave him a light push that forced him to sit down again. 

“Show me how you do it when we’re not together.”

Aaron’s eyes widened - confusion and stupor at the beginning, then the sheer thrill of the idea lit up his gaze. And made him hard entirely.

He sank into the cushion behind his back to finish unzipping his pants and pulling them down his hips so that his swollen erection was only contained by a thin layer of underwear. 

“You’re just going to watch?” he asked, locking eyes with you. You could have sworn that look alone increased the temperature in the room by a couple of degrees. “Doesn’t seem fair.”

You reached under the flowy dress to roll your panties along your thighs, letting them crumple around your ankles; you sat on the desk and lifted the skirt up to your waist, your feet resting on Aaron’s parted knees. 

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

He swallowed nervously but didn’t miss a movement of your fingers starting to draw circles around your most sensitive spot, guided by the aching tension in your belly; your mouth watered at the sight of his cock whipping free and he noticed, so he took his time to wrap his right hand around it.

You knew how to work his length, moving up and down in slow and long strokes as foreplay, nevertheless witnessing such a handsome man masturbating for you proved to be one of the most lascivious experiences of your life.

“I always think about you when I touch myself…” you confessed, and he held on to your ankle with his free hand while you rubbed your clit. 

“Are you trying to make me lose control?”

You nodded in confirmation and he growled. 

He was now coating his shaft and palm with the leaking precum, using only his index and middle finger to collect some of the slickness and spread it over the bulging head, the exposed glans glistening in the process. That was when he usually begged you to move faster, since his delicate skin was lubricated enough and increased friction meant pleasure - not pain.

“I’m really wet for you,” you teased him, your own desire pooling at your core, but his reaction threw you off balance. 

“Stop, please… stop,” he whimpered, “this is not…”    

His ragged breath made it difficult for him to articulate his words. “I need you.”

You gestured at the purse that was still under his chair and he handed it to you; sharing the house with a teenager meant Aaron had grown accustomed to some of his clean t-shirts randomly disappearing from his drawers and wardrobe, so you both knew nothing out of the ordinary could be hidden among his personal stuff. 

He stared at you, entranced, as you retrieved the small box you’d carried with you and tore one of the foil packages open. 

“A little closer, maybe…?” you joked, and when he stood up you bit your lower lip in anticipation. He kissed you lightly on your forehead as you unrolled the latex down his hardness, then you pinched his chin and smiled at him.

“Better?!”   

He whined again. “Not exactly.”

You grabbed him by the nape of his neck, speaking softly to his ear. “Make me come. I can’t wait anymore.”

The uninhibited request seemed to have flipped a switch in him: the sound of a pencil holder spilling its content made you laugh as Aaron enthusiastically raised your legs in the air and held them to his chest, so he could start rubbing the tip of his cock up and down your folds.

It was torture but he was damn good at it.

When he managed to get himself covered in your arousal he slipped the bulbous head past your entrance. “It’s so big…” you muttered.

Truth be told he wasn’t that well-endowed and you had nothing against it, since you’d never been keen on painful sex, still you welcomed him with a loud moan once he buried himself inside of you. Even a gentleman from another era didn’t mind a bit of flattering and appreciation of his manhood. 

He wasn’t as vocal, though, but his deep groans reverberated in his throat in a manifestation of primal, untamed passion; he looked so solemn it drove you insane, his brows furrowed and tiny droplets of sweat trapped between his short hair, almost as if he was directing all of his energies into screwing your brains out.

When his thrusts grew slower but more intense you wriggled your legs free and locked them around his waist: with a last, fierce grunt he twitched several times and you closed your eyes to enjoy the moment, which was always the biggest turn-on for you.

With your eyes still closed you welcomed the pressure on your lips, a not-so-subtle invitation to take his index and middle finger in your mouth; you sucked on them alternately, happy to oblige, tasting traces of the salty precum. You clawed at his forearm when he brought the wet digits to your clit, rubbing and drawing circles just like you’d shown him before.

“Aaron… I’m…” you mewled, grabbing a fistful of his hair as you - indeed - came with his throbbing cock still inside you, lungs pleading for air and inner muscles clenching around him.

He collapsed on top of you, the additional weight making you realize how harsh the desk’s smooth surface was on your back, yet you cupped his face and stroked his flustered cheeks with your thumbs. 

“I missed you so much,” you breathed out as soon as you were able to.

He pulled out and started to fix his clothes, and before he got rid of the condom he planted the sweetest kiss on your lips. “I’m sorry about the other weekend. Jack wasn’t supposed to play, last minute change of plans—”

“Don’t be sorry, I know you love going to his games,” you said, propping up on one elbow to straighten yourself as he stood in front of you. “Besides, you wouldn’t want to disappoint your biggest fans, would you?”

He was still heaving a little and looked at you with a pensive pout. “... what?!”

“I mean, you’ve seriously never noticed…?” you locked your hands behind his neck as you tried to come up with a good imitation of the cooing voice of the soccer moms who you knew swarmed the sidelines every time he was present.

“Aaron, can you help us move the coolers? Aaron, we need to rearrange those chairs! Aaron, come here and have some cake! We made it for you ‘cause you’re such a good dad and it’s soooooo hot!”

He laughed, the vibrations in his ribcage making your breasts jiggle, then he gave you his best smile to date. “You’re jealous?!”

You shrugged, holding him closer. “No. To be honest I don’t even blame them, you are a good dad. Which is very hot, by the way.”

“Thank you,” he laughed again as he wrapped you in his arms to kiss you one more time, forcing you to close your eyes and get lost in his tender embrace. You muffled a surprised gasp when he playfully nipped at your earlobe with another heart-stopping smile. 

“But just to be clear…” he added, his voice dropping to a whisper, “it’s usually cookies, not cake!”

@hornyhornyhimbos

NB: I don't really have an Aaron Hotchner fic taglist 'cause I usually write about Spencer Reid but if you wish to be tagged in future Hotch-centric works (SFW or not, who knows?) you can either send me an ask or leave a comment below.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner smut #post season 12 aaron hotchner #criminalminds #criminalminds fanfic #criminalminds fic #criminalminds smut #smut #mdni #minors do not interact #not beta read #my gifs #hotch is a dilf #also i hate the title but who cares we're here for the smut #milla writes n*s*f*w* #or rather... milla doesn't know why she's writing hotch stuff #i have a strong suspect someone is brainwashing me with all that talk about him #not naming names you know who you are

[adventuringblind]

Can I request an angst fic where reader is charles sister and she gets into accident (car accident or like wrong place wring time robbery, anything really) while he's in a race (lorenzo, arthur and their mother is with them) and xavi (🤢) is the one who answers charles' phone and decided not to say anything even after charles finishes the race and then the entire leclerc family find out after a reporter tells charles that "your nerves must be made of steel" and then everyone is confused and the reporter is all like "did no one tell you about your sister?" And like full angst when they find out that the accident hurt reader really bad (has problems with sight or maybe walking permanently, only if you're comfortable writing that) end it however you want, only if you want and if you are comfortable with this kind of stuff

Like Steel

Platonic!charles Leclerc x Sister!Reader

Genre: angst to fluff

Summary: Charles and his twin sister have always been close. Even being able to sense when something is wrong with the other. When Charles get confirmation after a race he was right, someone is to blame for his not knowing.

Warnings: car accidents, driving under the influence, hospitals

Notes: Xavi needs to get fired so my boy can have a chance. Also I don’t care if people smoke weed, but the amount of times I’ve almost been hit because someone was hotboxing their car is absolutely ridiculous.

Masterlist

To say Charles is close with his twin is an understatement. They are practically glued at the hip. They know what the other is thinking or feeling before any communication is had. Their connection to each other was concerning at first. But anyone could see that the Leclerc twins are just close.

Charles had been there through all of her breakups. Both with guys he did and didn’t like. She had been there through every step in his racing career.

It’s funny to say steps now, he thinks. Since his sister can no longer take any.

She’d gotten a job as the admin for the Ferrari instagram. She loved chasing around Charles and Carlos so the fans could see what they got up to in their down time.

She has a contagious smile that everyone can’t help but love. Her and Daniel were menaces to the paddock while he did media things for Redbull.

She’d been on her way to the paddock for her brothers home race. Monaco was the only race on the calendar where she got to wake up at home to go to work in the morning. She had a few PR things to do around the city first before she could head to the track. So she’d left pretty early. Deciding to walk since everything is so close together.

Charles knew she hated being late. Maybe that’s why the alarm bells were going off before he got in the car.

He’d waiting for her to show at the meetings. Then again while he was getting ready. He search before he got into his car. Then looked for her when her when he got to his grid box.

He felt it in the pit of his stomach that something had happened.

He’d managed to end the race in in first. Something that didn’t happen often so he was ecstatic. The thing every driver craves was once again in his hands. His family was there when he got out of his car. All except the one person he wanted to celebrate with most. Maybe she’d just gotten caught up in her duties?

It was his turn to interview. The smile on his face and cheers of the crowd made the endorphins in his brain skyrocket.

“Congratulations Charles! You must have nerves like steel out there!”

Nerves? Why nerves? He’s not nervous.

The reporter caught onto his confusion. “We’re you not made aware of your sister?”

“No what happened? Where is she?”

The reporter signaled to turn the camera elsewhere. Then walked to Charles to let him know in a normal conversation fashion. He’s grateful because not many would do that. “She was hit by a car this morning and is in the hospital.”

His heart sank. He looked to his family and by their shocked expressions they also didn’t know.

“Your race engineer Xavi said he got word off it right before the race. We figured you’d been told already. I’m sorry for the mix-up.”

“No it’s okay that’s not on you.” The he’s walking away. His team doesn’t try to stop him and he tells Carlos to stand in his place on the podium. He’s lost to many people already. He refuses to also lose his sister.

He doesn’t remember the car ride. Only the angry feeling knowing at his insides. He saw the call Xavi had answered in his call log. They didn’t call anyone else since technically, he picked up.

The rage towards his race engineer is not helping him think clearly. If she dies and Charles isn't there for her, he's never going to forgive himself.

~

He broke.

He saw her in the bed with machines and tubes everywhere, and he broke. He sobbed into his mother's arms. Lorenzo and Aruther trying to console each other next to them.

It's ridiculous, he thinks, how one person can attract so much death. Maybe it's to soon to say she's dead but by the look of things, she's halfway there.

He stays with her. Her hurts for her. Their stupidly strong connection makes this all the more difficult.

Pascale has forced him to leave her bedside on multiple occasions. But he always goes begrudgingly and under the stipulation that someone will get him if there are any updates.

It’s a month before she finally wakes up. Coughing and panicking. Charles is at her side immediately. Fate is certainly on his side today.

“What happened?” She asks after she could finally talk again. Though her voice is raspy and dry.

“You were walking to the track and got hit by a car. They were smoking marijuana so they didn’t see you.” Oh how Charles raged about that too when he found out. The stupidity of people sometimes amazes him.

The next words out of her mouth make him think that fate is just playing games with him at some point.

“Charlie, I can’t feel my legs.”

~

Turns out the car they hit her shattered a part of her spine, leaving her paralyzed. Now bound to a wheelchair.

Charles had to go back to traveling while she was doing physical therapy. She’s doing her best to learn how to do life now with her new set of circumstances. She did think it was funny getting to zoom around in her wheelchair and whizzing past her brother.

Her first appearance back at the paddock is a surprise to all. Mainly because she intended it to be that way.

She navigates down the busy path towards the Ferrari hospitality, her mother trying to keep up.

She missed being here. Seeing everyone so excited about the sport.

She came to a skidding halt at the door. Curse the stairs. Why don't they have a ramp? She'll be having words with Charles about this later.

"Maman! Can you help me please!"

It takes effort. She's still not quite used to everything but she's learning.

She successfully gets inside the door and into the main area of hospitality. Hugs greet her as some of the staff make their way over.

Now, the next part of this plan. Her mother calls Charles and puts it on speaker.

"Hello?"

"Charlie, I just got word about your sister. I'm in hospitality-" She puts on her best worried parent voice.

"I'm on my way."

It takes approximately three minutes, and Charles is barreling through the door of security. His oblivieness becomes obvious as he misses her sitting in the middle of the room and is worriedly hugging his mom and asking her frantic questions.

"Is she- why are you laughing?"

Pascale is crying from laughing so hard. She gestures to where her daughter is waving and trying to get her brothers attention.

"Oh my god. You scared me so bad! Don't ever do that again!" He scolds them both. Then her embraces his sister.

"I'm excited to see you here!"

"Any news about Xavi?"

"He finally quit a couple days ago. I basically ignored him the last few races."

"And you've been doing better? You've won twice this month."

"And if I ever see him again, I'll make sure he never wants to be near an F1 car again."

#x reader #fanficion #f1 fic #formula one #formula 1 #racing #angst #max verstappen #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x you #redbull racing #formula racing #charles leclerc fic #lando norris x reader #max verstappen x y/n #fluff #max verstappen x you #mclaren formula 1 #ferrari #mclaren racing #f1 #scuderia ferrari #ferrari racing #ferrarri #f1 imagine #charles leclerc x y/n

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Toxic Love

Yandere Male Cherub x Gender Neutral Reader (CW: Stalking, magical mind manipulation, religious themes, dub-con, general yandere behavior, smut) Word Count: 1.3k (A long time ago I had written a similar piece to this, but I deleted it because there was a request on another blog, that i had not seen until after I wrote my piece, that looked like it had heavily influenced my fic. Now I have reworked and added smut in celebration of Valentine’s Day. I hope you all enjoy. I apologize for any mistakes I forgot that it was going to be Valentine’s Day until just a few hours ago.) 

Celael was a cherub. There were many cherubs, more commonly known as cupids. None of them looked like little flying babies though. Most actually had long hair, one set of wings, and skin in varying tones of pink and sometimes lavender or even red. Celael’s wings were a pastel pink, matching his skin tone, but his shoulder length hair was light lavender and his eyes were a passionate crimson red. Most cupids were happy with their existence, taking both pride and joy in their work, spreading love among the humans. But Celael was not happy at all. Through the countless years of diligently carrying out assignments, matching humans together, and keeping the love flowing for mortals he became more and more empty until he was pretty much running on autopilot. Just going through the motions. A void was festering within him that he failed to understand. Co-workers and friends did nothing to fill it, his job seemed a cruel mockery. He influenced the hearts and minds of humans until they were filled to the brim with love, but he could do nothing for his own ever withering soul. But he kept doing his sacred duty. But then one day he got an assignment to set up a cook in a little restaurant with a co-worker and when he went to go pierce each one of their hearts with a set of bonded arrows to push their hearts towards love he suddenly realized what he was missing. That cook he was supposed to match together with a waiter was you. And you were just exactly what he was missing. Every time he gazed upon you his heart beat faster and his palms grew sweaty, was this what love was? And just like many humans that didn’t need a supernatural push he was experiencing this all entirely without arrows. He decided to observe you to be sure, he knew how love worked and he wanted to be sure of his emotions. Celael was entirely invisible to you as he stalked you, watching you at all hours of the day. He loved the way you nervously stammered when talking to your boss. He loved the way you carried yourself, all shy but determined to do your best. And most of all he loved how you treated others, without an ounce of malice in your heart, though it made him worry that someone could take advantage of you, and that thought is what sealed the deal. You needed someone to keep you safe, someone stronger than another mere mortal. Someone like… an angel. After all, your co-worker could not do a fraction of what he could do for you. He could let you know safety in the paradise of heaven. And why shouldn’t he, your designated match was a mortal the same age that you were, but he was as old as time! He had paid his dues, served humanity for countless ages, didn’t he deserve you a whole hell of a lot more? He thought so. So he formulated a plan and set it into action, he had to get you to have just a small amount of feelings for him. That’s how the arrows worked, there had to be something there naturally for them to work off of. And this would also give him a chance to know you better than he had ever known any human, or anyone at all for that matter. Celael donned a human disguise. His wings were gone, his eyes became brown, his skin slightly tan, and his hair black. He, under the name Cel, applied for the position of waiter that had opened up after your inconsiderate co-worker just disappeared, seemingly walking off the job in the middle of break and never returning without ever mentioning it to anyone. Over the course of weeks and then months Celael became your absolute best friend, you confided everything in him and trusted him completely. You were practically attached at the hip and could always be seen together. Just when you thought you might be starting to have the slightest whisper of feelings for him you felt a pain in your heart and collapsed. With only a brief flutter of wings Celael whisked you off to his little corner of heaven, it was a cozy cottage on a large floating island that was surrounded by a pink sky. The amorous cupid placed you on his comfortable bed and waited for you to wake. When you did finally rise from your magically induced slumber he could tell by the way that you looked at him that everything he had done had worked flawlessly. He had shot you with some extremely strong and illegally crafted love and lust arrows to make you only have eyes for him. You saw Cel upon opening your eyes and your heart immediately fluttered while your crotch felt a bit warm, but there was something wrong. He had wings and odd hair and skin, and this wasn’t your bed. You looked up at Cel and started to question him but he closed the distance between the two of you and leaned in for a kiss, pushing everything else to the back of your mind as all of your conscious thoughts were consumed with your focus on him. He disrobed you and rubbed your thighs gently before kissing a trail up them to your crotch and using his mouth on your sex. You stroked his pretty hair and silently moaned and gasped, unable to form words because your need for him was so deep. Celael, who you still only knew as Cel gently guided you into missionary position and aligned his large cock with your hole before sliding in fully in one smooth motion. Now it was Celael’s turn to gasp, in his many years of life this was his first time giving in to carnal desires, never had he known a greater pleasure than when he slipped into you. He took his time, this was a delicate and wonderful act that was surely meant to be savored, he slowly thrust in and out of you as he tenderly licked and kissed from your neck to your lips, He planted a deep kiss to your lips and moaned into the kiss. He was sloppy, but passionate, you could practically fill the emotions radiating off of him and you matched them perfectly. You had never felt like this before, so dizzy, so lost in the moment, but you were with Cel and that was all that mattered. He bit and sucked gently at your nipples before putting you into a mating press and going quite a bit faster, but not ruthlessly. The cherub continued at a good pace until right before you both came, when he slammed his lips into yours so you could share a kiss as twin orgasms racked both of your bodies. He draped his wings over you while holding you tight, happy tears in his eyes as he beheld you. That festering void that had been within him so long had at long last been filled. A bit of the fog that had been building in your head during the intimate act started to disperse and you had so many questions but seemingly as if reading your mind Celael shushed you as you began to open your mouth. “Not now my beloved, we can talk in the morning, right now let’s just rest okay?” You murmured your agreement and the angel repositioned you both so that you were both on your sides with him behind you. He spooned you with an arm and a wing draped over you as his large cock slid back inside of you, it did not take long for him to drift into a blissful sleep and even though you felt something was really off you gave into love for him and fell asleep beside him.

#yandere terato #yandere teratophilia #yandere exo #yandere exophilia #yandere angel #yandere cupid #yandere cherub #male yandere #yandere x reader #gender neutral reader #Male yandere x gender neutral reader #My OCs #My OC Celael #Yandere Valentine #Yandere Valentine's Day #Yandere Valentine's 2023

[oddlydrawnpuppets]

Alright drawing is done!

The title of the fic is going to be…

Turning Shadows into Shapes

The first chapter is going to be posted on Ao3 on December 28th, 2022! It’s gonna be great!

Until then, how about I give you a peak behind the curtain so you can see what is to come :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He looked to his left at his sister, Jazz, who was deeply focused on the thick psychology textbook in front of her, her dark blue eyes scanning the dense text and taking in the information. She had always been fascinated by the mysteries of the human mind, and the textbook was filled with interesting insights and theories. As she read, she occasionally made notes in the margins or underlined passages that she found particularly interesting. She would occasionally look up from her textbook, look at her phone, and glance over at Danny, as if checking to make sure he was still there. If their eyes met, she would give him a reassuring smile and go back to working on her textbook.

“So,” started Danny, “what project are you working on this time?”

“This one’s funny actually, I have to write an academic paper investigating the influence of family dynamics on children's development.” The both chuckled a bit from the irony. “It’s not due for a while, but I think it’s best for me to get ahead of my schoolwork so I can focus on finding a job out here.”

The conversation paused, Jazz could tell Danny was on high alert as they passed through the narrows. He looked as if he was wound up by a string, ready to jump up at a moments notice. She could practically hear his core humming with anxiety as he fiddled his hands, staring daggers out of the bus window.

“I know this is a lot of change, and that Gotham isn’t exactly the most… safe place, but it has the most, stuff” she exaggerated the word, “for your ‘condition.’ Besides, I can handle myself, I’ll be ok.” Danny wanted to believe that.

“I know, it’s just…” He didn’t need to complete his sentence, nor did he want to in a public setting.

“I know.” She gave him a small smile, worry hidden in her eyes. He knew that Jazz could take on an entire platoon and be fine, but that didn’t stop the aching he could feel in his core. No amount of reasoning would sate his obsession.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #phandom #digital fanart #art #artist #digital arwork #dp #dp art #drawing #fanart #procreate #dp fanart #dp x dc #ghost king danny #jazz fenton #dc x dp #dc dp fic #danny phantom dc #dp dc crossover #dcdp #danny phantom fandom #danny phantom fanart #danny phantom fanfiction #danny phantom fic #dp fandom #dp au #dpxdc #dp fic

[allmcl]

Hey! Thanks for writing fanfics!! I want to make a request: Nathaniel, pregnant Candy (you decide how long the pregnancy takes) and lots of cuteness, please!!❤️🥺

Sorry for my English, it's not my first language

NATHANIEL AND PREGNANT CANDY . . .

Where you see Nathaniel leave his past behind and learn to be an exemplary father to your baby, and to be the best life partner you could ask for.

pairing. nathaniel carello x f!reader

genre. fluff.

setting. established relatonship, both are aged up and live together. this situates in mcl love life!!

content warning. kissing, crying, mentions of his past trauma, and nath being a total husband material just because he loves you too much.

author’s note. FIRST, I WANT TO APOLOGIZE, i really didn´t know how to make it a fanfic so i decided to do it like a headcanon (tysm for requesting!!, i hope you like this anyway TuT) also this is so long for no reason??

✧. - ̗̀ WHEN YOU TOLD HIM THE NEWS . . .

I think when you had to tell Nathaniel the big news, you would have been nervous. And not because you thought he would take it badly. I think that although Nathaniel has changed a lot over the years, mainly since what happened with his father, which I also think influences a lot, his desire to start a family as the independent adult that he is now would have constantly been a topic that you two would have mentioned a lot in your relationship.

The way you told him was probably much simpler than you might have imagined, but you were so wrapped up in your worries that you couldn't think of a creative way to do it. You just nedeed to get it out of your head. Hiding it would only make it worse. So you decided to break the news to him the same day you found about it.

It was late, almost dawn when you heard Nathaniel announce his arrival at the house. His guard shift had extended longer than he expected, but even so, he always knew that you were waiting for him (probably awake), so he didn't worry about making noise.

Seeing you appear, he couldn't help but smile widely. "I couldn't wait to get home." His words made you smile and Nathaniel rushed to welcome you into his arms, inhaling your scent with his head on your neck. The silence was loud at the moment, and before you could think...

"I'm pregnant." You felt his body tense violently against yours, and you immediately regretted not having waited for a better moment. But now all that was left was to wait for his reaction.

Carefully, Nathaniel pulled away a little to look at you, worse still holding you in his arms. You felt your heart pound against your chest, your entire body weakened and you felt like you were about to cry. His face was particularly neutral, although surprise was evident in his eyes. Nathaniel stayed for a few seconds contemplating the situation, a million thoughts running through his head.

And as you were about to speak again, a little scream escaped you as Nathaniel lifted you into the air, doing a small spin before lowering you down and attacking your lips soothingly. He held your face, and tangled his hands in your hair. The energy in the kiss unsettled you, but you held back.

"I thought…" Your voice sounded strangled, you breathed heavily in the middle of the kiss. "I didn't know you'd think.." You confessed, the feeling of relief calming you and you felt a smile escape as you saw tears sweeling in his eyes that he somehow managed to stop from falling.

"My love.." Nathaniel managed to say before he started laughing and smiling so much that he looked like a little child receiving a candy. "This is the best news I've ever received in my life, y/n" He murmured, pressing his forehead to yours. He sound so sure you couldn´t help but hold him tighter.

"But…your job.." You whispered.

"Don't think about any of that, we'll fix it. We'll find a way." Nathaniel interrupted you to reassure you. "Everything will be okay. I'm here."

And with that, you knew that, indeed, it would be.

✧. - ̗̀ HOW DID HE TOOK CARE OF YOU? . . .

I think everything about pregnancy would be a complete challenge for him. Not only because his job rarely allowed him to stay with you as long as he would have wanted, but because he didn't want to miss absolutely ANYTHING.

He always does his best to share the little moments with you. Since he found out, he loves sleeping with his head on your belly, he feels that in some way he protects the baby. And everytime he feels his little kicks, his whole heart melts instantly.

Every time you decide to do something that he considers dangerous, he goes into POLICE MODE, immediately. He starts reproaching you about why you should be resting and starts giving you orders, which at a certain point ends up bothering you. He always ends up apologizing, but you know he's just scared and you appreciate that he cares so much.

Also, I have the thought that many times you found him crying, and whenever you asked, he told you it was because he was afraid. (Have to add that Nath, always knows how to communicate with you, something you´re alway glad for and that he learned to you while he started giving you all his trust.)

Rather, he was worried. His worst terror was becoming a bad father. You knew that although years had passed since the incident with his family, it is the type of wound that never heals. So although Nathaniel would never have worried about that but, now that he had the responsibility of raising a baby, it was the only thing that came to his mind.

But Nathaniel is so in love with you, he knew that as long as you were there everything would be fine. So you always know how to calm him down when his anxiety starts to eat away at him. And he will always be grateful for that, and of course for everything you always do for him.

Another thing is that I feel that since he almost never had time to stay at home so much, he didn't really know how to do certain chores (I mean, he knew, he just wasn´t too experienced about it.)

But now that he basically forced you to stay in bed resting, he was forced to learn to make simple dishes, clean from time to time and keep everything in order.

On the other hand, getting up at such late hours of the morning to indulge in those strange cravings that you had in the middle of the night became routine.

And as expected, it didn't really supposed a problem, Nathaniel was already used to being awake at that hour on patrol.

I think a moment that stands out was when they told Amber, who immediately started crying and asking so many questions that Nath had to tell her to calm down so as not to overwhelm her. While everything was happening, you couldn't stop thinking about how things changed.

In high school, you were convinced that you and Amber would hate each other forever. Just like Nath, who thought he would have to deal with constant tension between you.

But there he was, watching how his little sister couldn't stop caressing your belly, while smiling and crying at the same time. He thought it was adorable. And trust me, Amber is definitely going to be the fun chick.

He was there for you, (obviously your friends too) throughout the entire pregnancy, and mainly giving things away. There came a point where you had to ask her to stop spending so much on you, because every time she came to visit you (which was quite often) she brought a present with her.

I knew she would love him the day I met him, and you couldn't be happier about it.

THE DAY YOU HAD THE FIRST ULTRASOUND, THE DOCTORS HAD TO TAKE NATH OUT OF THE ROOM BECAUSE HE COULD NOT HOLD HIS TEARS. The doctors told him that he couldn't cause such a disturbance, since it should be a calm moment for both of you, but he couldn't help but burst into tears when he saw his baby on the screen. After calming down , they let him back in. You just laughed at the situation, such a cry baby really 🙄. And in general, pregnancy was a complicated process for both of us, but Nathaniel always made sure to be there to help you with whatever you needed at all times. (AS HE SHOULD, dont expect less!)

✧. - ̗̀ GENDER REVEAL . . .

I don't think Nathaniel is the type of person to speculate about the gender of the baby. Really, he didn't care too much as long as he was a healthy child.

I think he would be the first to suggest a huge list of names, depending on the gender, and to buy some clothes. The process of creating the baby´s room was complicated, and although you suggested doing it after the gender reveal, your husband simply couldn't wait and by the time you realized it, Nathaniel had bought all the necessary furniture.

He decided that he would use light colors for the room, and then you could decorate on top of the white walls with another color. I feel like the room would be strangely symmetrical and orderly. But in the sense that it wouldn't have a warm look. I think Nath always had a huge love for modern things and simple decorations, unlike you.

So, of course, you were in charge of giving it a more homely appearance and placing decorations in warmer colors so that it wasn't all white. In the end, it is simply your way of complementing each other.

AND I'M SURE THIS MAN BOUGHT THE BABY A POLICE SUIT

"Nath! It's a baby!" You reproached him

"A baby police officer.." He corrected you.

Now, it should be clarified that the revelation ceremony was nothing ostentatious. By both of your choices, only a couple of your close friends were invited, a couple of Nath, Amber (who was the first to arrive in a totally pink outfit, EXCITED AUNT!!), and your parents of course.

It wasn't anything too weird, you decided to go with a traditional way, simple confetti.

"Are you ready?" You asked Nathaniel, who could barely hold the confetti shooter.

"Yeah." He said it with such confidence that in chorus with those present, they began the countdown.

And before you processed it, they were both covered in blue confetti.

You immediately felt Nathaniel wrap his arms around you and lift you into the air, uniting your lips in a kiss.

✧. - ̗̀ MEETING THE BABY . . .

I don't think it's necessary to say too much about the birth, but I can say that Nath collapsed at least 3 times during the entire time you were there. But he never let go of your hand. (And thank goodness you didn´t either, because at any moment he would faint)

But after that stressful moment, Nath focused on spoiling you, bringing you your favorite food, taking care of organizing the bags with the baby's things, and making sure you weren't in too much pain.

Although he couldn't stop thinking about seeing him, about holding his baby in his arms. Juts like you of course.

The moment when, after a few moments that felt infinite, he saw the nurse come through the door with a bundle so small that it was completely surrounded by a blanket, he felt his heart skip a beat.

Although he tried to hold on as long as he could, the moment he saw how you received him in your arms, the tears began to fall. There was no sound or words, just his eyes full of love staring mesmerizingly at both of you.

After a while, Nathaniel held him in his arms. The moment he looked into his eyes, all his worries faded away. And he knew he wouldn´t let anything in the world hurt him.

"He…" His voice sounded choked by crying. "He has your eyes…" He couldn't finish his sentence, so he stayed silent to avoid bursting into tears and waking the baby. So he just hugged him against his chest. Nathaniel didn't know at all what would come next, but he was sure that he would do wathever it takes to keep you both safe. Both of you were his whole life. Anything else mattered.

(btw, you can name the baby however you want lol)

©allmcl !

#mcl #amor doce #amour sucre #cdm #corazon de melon #mcl armin #mcl boys #mcl castiel #mcl high school life #mcl kentin #mcl nathaniel #mcl lysander #my candy love #castiel veilmont #nathaniel carello #fanfic #mcl headcanons #headcanon #headcannons

[hellishattempt]

𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐭 - false positive

cr 101strk on twitter, src from pin

🢥 summary : celebrity!au jjk men and rumours swirling around your established relationship, wc 2.4k 🢥 series includes : choso, fushiguro toji, geto suguru, gojo satoru and nanami kento, part two of five 🢥 content : celebrity!au, female reader, mostly angst, some fluff, married, body dysphoria, pregnancy, photoshopping / body editing, miscarriage, sickness, blood, fake newspaper used, paps being an ass, lying, use of pet names, suggestive content if you squint so hard your eyes are almost closed, i hate winter so this is set in like summer, jasper simping for nanami the entire time, the ending is what it is, not proofread we die like robins /ref

. . . BEING MARRIED TO AN AUTHOR has its perks, especially when you're a reader yourself. you always got to read the first drafts, and the second, and the final drafts before anyone else, including your husband's editors. nanami claimed that if it wasn't good enough for his wife, then it wasn't good enough to be published. you always thought that was a bit extreme, but you loved his writings either way. however, sometimes it was hard to find the time to read the latest chapter he sent you, because your job drained you. you were an influencer, and had currently signed a promotional deal with koh gen do, a popular japanese makeup brand. recently, you were barely home, busy with photoshoots and videos for koh gen do, on top of the content you had to make yourself.

neither of you really liked the limelight, nanami especially. you were young and naive when you joined social media, rising quickly to popularity. it was something you enjoyed, and you still do enjoy it, but it felt more like a tiring obligation than an aspiring career. you blame the paparazzi, nanami blames societal expectations, although he's not the paparazzi's biggest fan either. throughout your dating, and going on six year marriage, you and nanami have had your fair share of scandals. this one had to take the cake, however.

you were out, doing one of the last rounds of photoshoots for your endorsement deal. nanami was home, trying to churn out the latest chapter on his to-do list. he wasn't very successful. the mostly blank document had two words on it: CHAPTER THIRTY in the fancy font you had selected to be chapter headers. any attempt to write after that failed. every paragraph had been written, rewritten and deleted. so the buzz of his phone was a welcomed distraction.

it was an article post from red sun times, a relatively newer newspaper company in japan. nanami preferred them because they were quieter, at least compared to japan newsline or tokyoto sistership news. but the article title cause a deep frown to wrinkle nanami's sculpted face.

. . . "IS NANAMI KENTO'S WIFE PREGNANT?" was in big bold print on your phone screen. you didn't see it right away, but your makeup artist did. she got your hairstylist's attention, who read it just before your phone shut off. they both began to pepper you with compliments.

"congratulations, nanami okaa-san!" aki, your makeup artist beamed. your eyes widened at the term. 'okaa-san' literally translated to 'mother' of which, you were not. she should've used 'oka-san', which meant wife literally, and ma'am respectfully. "you look so skinny, i couldn't even tell!"

"yes, congratulations! how did nanami-san respond?" your hairstylist added, smile wide on his face. "better yet, how did your families react? oh, i bet they were overjoyed."

you sat there confused, racking your brain over what the two were referring to. "wh-what? what are you talking about?"

they stared at you with blank faces, their excitement slowly fading into a confused expression that matched yours.

"y-your pregnancy," aki stuttered out, as though it was obvious.

"pregnancy? i'm... i'm not pregnant," you stated, getting out of your chair. "who told you i was pregnant?"

"we just saw the news flash on your phone," your hairstylist defended, gesturing to your phone. "there was an article from red sun times and the title read: is nanami kento's wife pregnant?"

"i'm not pregnant," you repeated, growing in frustration. the fucking nerve. "do i look pregnant?" you snapped, causing the pair to furiously shake their heads and protest the article. you scoffed, grabbing your phone and your bag, storming out of the dressing room. the directory of photography called after you as you exited the studio, but you paid no attention to him.

safe inside your car, you opened the article. you also had a slew of texts and missed calls from your husband, but you didn't have the patience for him right now. the article was crudely written, at best. red sun times had been losing subscribers and readers lately, and this seemed like a last ditch effort to get their subscriptions up again. it didn't make sense to you, however. neither you nor nanami were a-lister names in the celebrity world. nanami didn't even consider himself a celebrity. sure, you both had a hefty fan base, but it was nothing compared to some of the other celebrities of japan, like the model gojo satoru or the mma fighter fushiguro toji.

it didn't matter, anyways. it wasn't the words of the article that hurt. it was the pictures. all them were of you with nanami on your latest outing. your anniversary was coming up, and nanami always got really sweet around that time, taking you out on dates on the days leading up to your anniversary. your anniversary was in three days, and a couple of days ago, nanami had taken you to a strawberry farm where you each filled a bucket's worth of strawberries, that were then all eaten on the picnic following the farm. the picnic spot was the riverside where he had proposed about seven years ago. you had an amazing time, and fell a little bit more in love with your caring husband. his sensible attention to detail, his doting words, his thoughtful actions, all of it made the date, and your relationship, perfect. now this article and its malicious pictures tainted that saccharine memory.

. . . THE IMAGES HAD CLEARLY BEEN EDITED. that's what your logical brain was trying to scream at you, but your emotions weren't listening. a small bump had been added to your stomach in each photo, your hips had been wider, and in a couple, your breasts had even been adjusted, as though they were full with milk. you felt sick. it was so hard to tell the difference between what was edited and what wasn't. did you really look like that? did red sun times even have to adjust these photos? "you look so skinny, i couldn't even tell!" the words of your makeup artist bounced around your pounding head. if you were so skinny, why did she still assume you were pregnant?

you had tried so hard that day to look pretty for your husband, wearing his favorite yellow sundress of yours, with the sweetheart neckline and puffy sleeves. nanami always said he preferred your natural look, but you had still glossed your lips, tinted your cheeks a faint pink and dusted your nose with highlighter. you had tied your hair up with a soft yellow ribbon, curling the loose strands. you had checked your reflection at least fifteen times before deeming yourself fit for the day. you had looked good in the mirror, so why didn't you look like that in these photos?

tears threatened at your eyes, but you swallowed them with the lump in your throat. you were almost home now, and you were sure that nanami had seen the article. he loved the red sun times because they didn't do stupid stuff like this. guess they just lost another reader.

"darling?" nanami's voice rang out as you entered your home. he walked into your vision, looking worried. you hadn't answered your phone at all, hadn't even read any of his texts. "oh, koibito..." his voice softened as you raised your head to meet his gaze.

you look so despondent with your watery eyes, and sullen posture. you hadn't even removed your shoes before he had scooped you into his arms and you were sobbing into his shoulder. you don't know how long you stood there in the foyer of your home, everything silent except for your choked breathing. there was a dark blemish on his wool sweater now, but nanami waved it off when you tried to apologize.

he guided you to the living room, helping you sit on the grey sofa that you had bought together six years ago. nanami worked wordlessly as he removed your shoes and coat; he took your phone and bag, placing them on the stand by the front door. a high pitched whistle echoed from the kitchen, and moments later he returned with a cup of steaming sencha, your favorite kind of tea. you felt so pathetic, sitting there sniffling while your husband tended to you.

when he returned for the final time, nanami had changed into a black t-shirt, and sat on the leather ottoman opposite from you. his elbows rested on his knees as nanami watched you sip the tea he had made you. he didn't speak, but only because he couldn't find the right words.

nanami prided himself on his syntax and vocabulary. he was the type of person who always said the right thing at the right time, it's why being an author was the only career option he cared for. but here, you sat in a stifled silence. he knew he should say something, but what? what were you were supposed to say in a situation like this? you were clearly distressed, and it was nanami's role as your husband to offer you words of encouragement, but his tongue was dry.

if nanami was honest, he almost wanted there to be some truth to the article. you hadn't exactly been trying for kids, but you hadn't not been trying. kids was something you both knew you wanted, but you hadn't discussed it in further detail. reading further into the article and viewing the photos made it clear that it wasn't true, at all. nanami knew almost immediately that when you saw this, you were going to breakdown, and he would be there to pick you up. so he ordered your favorite ramen, made your favorite tea and held you in his arms until you had calmed down.

nanami knew that you would believe the edits, that you would see yourself like that. despite how much he praised your body, you hated it, and he hated that. anytime you made some side comment about your stomach or thighs, it almost started a fight. he loathed the way you saw yourself, and nothing he argued stuck with you.

in the last few months, however, nanami was starting to see some progress. you stared less in the mirror with your meticulous eyes, pinching flaps of your skin between your fingers. you began to buy less healthier foods, and stopped mentioning the stupid diet you had placed yourself on. you wore clothes that you specifically avoided unless you had nothing else to wear, because of the way they displayed your figure. he knew that this article had erased all of that progress.

"i'm sorry, nani" you croaked, curling your knees into your chest.

"shh, no, koibito," nanami disregarded your apology. "you don't ever have to apologize about your emotions, especially not to me." he moved from the ottoman to take the spot next to you, pulling your small frame into his. one hand held yours while the other stroked your hair amorously. "the article was cruel, and any person with a heart would be reacting the same as you. don't worry, i've already called their editor and he said he doesn't know why the piece was published when it wasn't supposed to. it's being removed as we speak."

your heart welled at his words. he was so patient and understanding. moments like these made you love nanami more. and it gave you the confidence to tell him the truth.

"kento," you began, pulling away from him slowly. you used his given name over your nickname, nani, for him. you only used it during fights or confessions. he immediately perked up. "i..." you sighed. words were always nanami's thing, not yours. "i'm not upset about the photos."

"oh?"

"okay, well, i am, but for a different reason than you think."

"and what reason is that, koibito?" his tone was emotionless, as if he hadn't decided how to respond yet.

"i know you think it's because i'm always stressing about my body and the way it looks, and you're worried because i haven't been fretting over how i look as much, right? well, that's because i was pregnant, and i decided i couldn't care about that when i had bigger concerns, like the tiny life in my stomach." it became harder to speak, your sentences broken by tears and sobs.

"...was?" nanami's voice cracked, and his misty eyes matched yours.

you nodded, "was. i... i had a miscarriage."

"w-when?"

"about a week ago. i was about a month and a half along."

"you mean that time you canceled girl's night because you were sick? you told me that it was just your period, and you sent me out to get you stuff from the store." nanami's brows furrowed.

"yeah, that's.. that's right." you took a breath to steady yourself. "there was just blood everywhere, and i was a wreck and i didn't have the courage to tell you. i know how badly you want kids of our own, and i just didn't want to hurt you."

"hurt me? baby, you were the one hurting, and i just played it off like it was normal. i feel terrible."

"you couldn't have known," you reassured him. "but that article, and those photos, it just tore me apart all over again. that's how i should look, that's how i want to look, but i lost that part of me, that part of us."

nanami didn't respond at first, just reached back out for you. you both sat there, quiet sniffles and crying the only sound in your home. he continued to comfort you, even though you felt like you should be offering him comfort. after all, nanami is learning that you were pregnant and now no longer pregnant all at once.

"koibito," he murmured after a while. "i want you to know that i love you no matter what. i don't care how you look or how you don't look. you're my wife, and i didn't marry you because of your body and figure. i married you because i fell in love with your laugh, your smile, your unpredictable personality, and all the other beautiful things about you. i'm always going to support you and love you. and if you want to be pregnant, then i'm happy to oblige."

you laughed despite your sadness, swatting at him playfully, which elicited a "what? i'm serious!" from nanami.

"shut up," you muttered, still chuckling. he smiled, happy to see that you were laughing along with him. nanami pressed a kiss to your temple, humming an "i love you" against your skin.

you snuggled deeper into him, craning your neck to meet his eyes. "i wanna be a mom, nani."

he wrapped both arms around you, meeting your gaze. "then a mom you shall be, my koibito."

#jjk men #jjk #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #kento nanami #celebrity au #celebrity nanami #jjk imagines #jjk x reader #nanami x female reader #jjk nanami #jjk kento #nanami my beloved #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami angst #nanami fluff #husband nanami #jujustu kaisen nanami #nanamin #jujutsu nanami #jujustu kaisen kento nanami #jujustu nanami #author!nanami

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Domestic Dream part 1: Unlikely Bonds

Bayverse!Raphael x reader

Part 2

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

Let’s be real, most of us would want our parents to meet our S/O, even if they were a mutant turtle. So, here you go! Your mutant bf, Raphael, meeting your parents! In this version they are divorced.

Warnings: Spelling like always.

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

The bustling streets of New York City at night provided a chaotic backdrop as Raphael found himself nervously standing at the entrance of your apartment building. Well, he was actually on your fire escape to be specific, playing with his hands and calming his breaths. He had faced countless adversaries in the shadows, putting his life at risk for the sake of his brothers and the people of New York. At times the people of the whole world! But meeting your parents felt like an entirely different battle that frightened Raphael in many ways.

You, Raphael’s girlfriend, had insisted that it was time for Raphael to meet your family. Your parents, though divorced, still maintained a certain level of influence in your life, making it important for you that they meet. And Raph understood. Really, he did. He had the same feeling when you meet Splinter and his brothers. But right now Raph was scared. He really wanted to meet your family, but at the same time he was terrified. Most humans would be scared to meet the parents of their significant other, but to a mutant turtle it was different. It was a life he could only have dreamed of, and yet, that dream could be crushed so easily the moment your parents would lay their eyes on him.

From the fire escape Raph could hear your mother questioning you, asking why they would have to meet him so late, and why it was taking him so long. You had answered something along the lines of it being because of his job, and that he would be there any moment.

Raph took one last calming breath before knocking on the window. It took less than a second for the curtains to be pulled back, and your big smile to appear in front of him. As happy as it made Raphael to see you smile, he could only imagine what your parents thought of the sight.

As you opened that window, and let Raphael into your apartment, revealing the contrasting atmospheres of your mother's meticulous and orderly domain and your father's more laid-back, easygoing space, Raphael couldn't help but feel like a fish out of water.

The look on their faces was easy to read. This was not what they had expected, at all. Your father sat with eyes wide on the couch, your mother almost dropped her tea cup, while your little brother stared awestruck. Raph could feel his hands get clammy, even more so when you took his hand, and pulled him further towards your family.

“Mom, dad, this is Raphael. My boyfriend”, you said, tightening your grip on his hand. As much as Raph loved hearing those words come out of your mouth, he could not miss the look in your mother’s face. She did not like those words.

Your mother, an elegant woman with an air of sophistication, eyed Raphael with a critical gaze. "So, this is the… man… who has captured my daughter's heart?"

Raphael, though typically brash, found himself at a loss for words. He nodded awkwardly, stepping closer to you for comfort, "Uh, yeah… that's me".

Your father, on the other hand, leaned back with a casual grin, sizing up the unexpected guest, a smile appearing on his face. "Well, well. You certainly know how to make an entrance."

The initial atmosphere was tense, to say the least. Raphael shifted uncomfortably under their scrutiny. However, a small figure emerged down in front of him, breaking the tension.

"Is that the Hulk?!" Your little brother, a wide-eyed bundle of energy, exclaimed, rushing forward with unabashed enthusiasm, poking to Raph to see if his muscles were real. "That's so cool!"

Raphael, caught off guard by the sudden change in tone, couldn't help but crack a smile. "Yeah, kid, I guess so. But I’m actually a turtle"

As your little brother bombarded Raphael with questions about the Turtles' adventures, a subtle shift occurred. Your parents - especially your mother’s - initially skeptical, began to see a different side of the usually stoic and tough Raphael - the side that made you fall for him.

Over dinners and movie nights at your place, Raphael shared tales of the Turtles' battles and the challenges they faced. Your mother, once reserved, began to appreciate the depth of Raphael's loyalty and commitment to his brothers and to you.

Your father, a fan of unconventional stories, found himself genuinely interested in the tales of a city saved by four mutant turtles. At one time you overheard your father and Raphael talk about the time they faced the Shredder, only for your father to yell in excitement: “You know the Falcon!?” Slowly but surely, the initial skepticism waned, replaced by an acceptance that this unusual, green-skinned figure was an integral part of your life.

As weeks turned into months, Raphael became a fixture in your family gatherings. Your little brother, once enamored by the novelty, now regarded Raphael as a big brother figure, seeking his advice on everything from school projects to ninja moves. Raph had to go into another room and hug you in silence, the day your brother told him he wanted to do a project on ninja history.

One evening, as you all sat around the dinner table in your apartment, your parents exchanged a knowing glance. Your mother spoke first, "Raphael, I must admit, I misjudged you initially. You've proven to be a strong protector and a source of stability for (Y/N)."

Your father chimed in, "And you're not half as bad as I thought you'd be."

Raphael, a bit taken aback, nodded appreciatively. "Thanks, I guess. I never thought I'd be sitting at a dinner table like this. It means a lot to me".

Your little brother grinned, "Well, you're officially part of the family now, Raph!"

And in that moment, as laughter filled the room, it became clear that sometimes the most unlikely bonds could be the strongest ones. And that Raphael’s dream of a normal life maybe wasn’t just a dream anymore.

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

I had to show some love for the big man😭❤️

#teenage mutant ninja turtles #teenage mutant ninja turtle headcanons #tmnt #tmnt raphael #tmnt bayverse #tmnt raph x reader #tmnt raph x you #tmnt x y/n #tmnt x reader #tmnt x you #bayverse raphael #bayverse raph x reader #tmnt 2014 #bayverse turtles #bayverse tmnt #tmnt leonardo #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt donatello #tmnt 2016 #tmnt bayverse x reader #tmnt bayverse fanfic #tmnt bayverse raph #tmnt bayverse leo #tmnt bayverse donnie #tmnt bayverse mikey #tmnt mikey #tmnt donnie #tmnt leo #tmnt raph #tmnt bayverse x you

[thetriumphantpanda]

handcuffs and alibis

I cannot be tamed so here, have part five of dbf!Joel. Y'all can thank @morning-star-joy for this one, she kinda came up with the idea of tying Joel to the headboard. ENJOY y'all, I wrote this under the influence of two glasses of wine and a double tequila soda so... you've been warned. You can read the previous 4 parts here, and if you'd like to leave a tip on my ko-fi I'd be eternally grateful, but of course, no pressure!

Pairing | dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary | Joel teases you at another family cookout, so you decide to take your revenge.

Word Count | 3.8k

Warnings | As always, just dbf!Joel in general. Alcohol consumption and mentions of food, public teasing, oral (M receiving), use of restraints, dirty talk, protected PiV sex, no use of Y/N.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Texas Sun Playlist

Your dad never really needs an excuse to hold a cookout, especially during these long summer months. So, when you finally get the call that you did in fact land the job you wanted, he’s straight out stocking up on enough beer to get the entire street drunk and enough food to feed the US army. 

He’s currently grilling the second lot of steaks, even though everyone sat around the table is stuffed from the burgers, skewered meats and hot dogs and no-one can really move. It’s a quieter affair than your welcome home party – sat around the table are your parents, Tommy and Joel and two of your mom’s friends from work. That doesn’t stop you from planting yourself directly across the table from Joel, making eyes at him over your bottle of beer, and running your bare foot up the part of his leg that you can reach under the table. 

He's been a picture of calm the entire time, his eyes didn’t throw a shade of warning across to you, just a look that said, ‘go on, I dare you.” Which you had been putting to the test the entire evening. 

“Can’t believe you’re actually going to be an archivist, smartass,” Tommy beams across the table when you’ve all had your fill of food, “We all knew you’d land it though.” 

You smile and clink your beer with his, “Can’t deny it’s a huge relief, thought I was going to be unemployed for way longer than this.” 

“Drinks on you next time, then?” He teases, “Joel and I know a great bar in town, maybe we can go sometime?” 

“Are the drinks cheap?” You smirk, “I’m not going to be making millions and the way you two drink I’ll be bankrupt in no time.” 

As you’re talking you can feel Joel’s foot tapping against yours under the table. It’s innocent enough but it’s just distracting enough that you struggle to engage in the rest of the conversation. You’re grateful when your mother takes the lull of silence in conversation as a sign to start clearing up. You almost jump at the opportunity to help her, which has her raising her eyebrow, but she doesn’t question you. 

Once she’s brought all the dirty plates and cutlery along with the dishes of leftovers, she grabs a chilled bottle of wine from the fridge and heads back out to her friends, leaving you alone, yet again, to clean up a party held for you. You make quick work of packaging up the leftover sides and meat, putting them in the fridge before you start rinsing plates and putting them in the dishwasher. 

“This feels awful familiar,” Joel’s voice speaks behind you, you turn and watch him peer into the dishwasher, “Good girl, nice to see I’ve taught you somethin’ useful.”

“What the hell are you doing, Joel?” You hiss. 

He looks at you with a confused look, “I was complimentin’ your stackin’ skills, am I not allowed to do that?” 

“Good girl,” You attempt to mock his accent, “Really, Joel?” 

He has a glint in his eye and smirk across his mouth, “Don’t usually complain when I’m calling you that.” 

“Usually because we’re alone, Joel.” You murmur as he takes a step towards you, resting his hand on the small of your back before he leans down as close as he can get to speak into your ear. 

“You started it,” He speaks lowly, “All that with your foot runnin’ up my leg, got me all worked up sweetheart, and now I want you.” 

You jerk your head to look out of the window, no-one is particularly looking into the window, but it would be so easy for anyone to turn their head and immediately see Joel pressed up against you, whispering into your ear. 

You nudge your elbow into his stomach behind you, “Not here,” You hiss, “Anyone could see us.” 

“Awful shy, all of a sudden, sweetheart,” He teases into your ear, but is thankfully moving back from you, “Suit yourself.” 

You finish stacking the dishwasher as he pulls out two cold beers from the fridge, using your dad’s ‘Florida’ bottle opener from a vacation you took years ago to open them both, setting one down on the side for you. He leans against the fridge once it’s closed, sipping at his beer as he watches you. You wipe your hands dry on a towel and grab the beer, taking two long drinks from the bottle. 

“C’mon, people’ll be wondering where we’ve gotten to.” 

“Certainly can’t have that.” You mumble, quietly enough that he doesn’t hear you. 

Back outside, Tommy is stood with your dad at the bottom of the garden, looking into the shed. Tommy is pointing at something and laughing and a split second later you can hear your dad’s low chuckle as well. Your mom and her friends have moved from the table to sit on the loungers that are around the pool, sipping wine and squealing at whatever neighbourhood gossip they’re talking about. 

Joel’s hand is on the small of your back again, guiding you back to the table you were sitting at to eat dinner, you sit back in your old chair, Joel this time opts to sit next to you, because of course he does. 

“What do you think they’re talking about?” You tip your beer bottle towards your mom and her friends. 

“Probably the fact that Marcia at the end of the street is having an affair with her assistant at work.” He says it so nonchalantly that you almost think he’s joking, until you look up at him and find he’s deadly serious.

“Oh my god, really?” You choke on your beer, “Joel she’s like sixty, how old is he?” 

He shrugs, “How am I supposed to know,” he takes a sip of his own drink, “Heard ‘em gossiping when I came inside.” 

“Get it girl, I guess,” You snigger, “Her husband must be pushing seventy and we’ve all got needs I suppose.” 

His warm hand comes to rest on your thigh, just above your knee. It’s under the table and with everyone else preoccupied with their conversations, no-one would really notice, but there’s still a thrill settling through your bones. 

“Promise you’d let me sort your needs out at seventy, sweetheart?” 

You snort, “Joel, when I’m seventy there’s a strong likelihood, you’ll either be senile in a home or dead.” 

He throws his head back as he laughs, probably one of the most genuine expressions of happiness you’ve ever seen from him, and it warms your heart that you were the one to cause it. Outside of Tommy and Sarah, and occasionally your dad, Joel was stoic, almost to a fault, but you liked this version of him, warm and happy, with his hand on your thigh. 

Said hand is now currently inching it’s way higher, hitting the material of your dress. You drop your head and watch as his hand disappears underneath the white linen material to rest dangerously close to the apex of your thighs. You turn your head to give him a warning look but he’s not even paying attention to you. He’s looking anywhere but at your face, his own plastered with a look of complete indifference that his fingers are brushing the cotton of your underwear and causing your breath to catch in your throat. 

You can feel him tracing the seam of your pussy through the material and if he’s not careful, within the next few seconds you’re going to outwardly beg him to bend you over and fuck you on this table in front of everyone. To save yourself the pain of watching him slowly murdered by your father, you reach down and grab his wrist, pulling his hand away from you. 

“Will you give it a rest?” You chide, “Don’t start something you can’t finish. 

Almost on cue, Tommy is bounding up the garden, your father a few steps behind him. Joel extricates his hand from between your legs, still looking like the picture of calm. 

“Can you give me a ride into town?” Tommy asks, “Delia wants to grab drinks.” 

You watch as Joel rolls his eyes, “Can you not take a cab?” 

“C’mon Joel, just run me into town, it won’t take too long.” 

“Who’s Delia?” You ask, winking at Tommy. 

“Tommy’s latest girlfriend,” Joel replies, standing from the chair, “He’s smitten.” 

“She ain’t my girlfriend, jackass,” Tommy glares at Joel, “We’re just spendin’ time together.” 

“Oh, so she’s your fuck buddy then?” You smirk, causing Joel to choke on his spit and Tommy to laugh. 

“Oh, c’mon old man,” Tommy is teasing, clapping him on the back, “You could use one’a them yourself, spendin’ all your time alone in that house.” 

It’s your turn to flush, the words if only you knew spring to the forefront of your mind, and it’s almost like Joel reads your thoughts. 

“Who says I ain’t got one of my own?” 

Tommy looks disgusted for a second at the thought of his older brother having his own fuck buddy, you can feel your cheeks flushing too, knowing that it’s you he’s talking about when no-one else around you has any idea, “Right, well you keep that information to yourself please.” Is all Tommy replies before him and Joel are bidding everyone goodbye. 

You sit for a moment outside, trying to calm yourself down, but all you can do is rub your thighs together and sigh that Joel did in fact start something he couldn’t finish, leaving you high, dry and horny in favour of taking his brother into the city to get his dick wet. 

“You alright, doll?” Your dad asks, taking Joel’s old chair, “Looking a little flushed,” He puts his hand on your forehead to check for a temperature, “You feelin’ alright?” 

“I’m fine dad,” You mumble in response, suddenly hyper aware of the high-pitched screeching coming from your mom and her friends, “I might go and lie down for a bit.” 

“Alright,” He leans over and presses a kiss to your cheek, “You just shout if y’need anything, alright?” 

You lie on your bed upstairs for two hours. Somewhere around the first hour you can hear your mom bidding her friends goodnight and then the hushed talk she has with your father. Once the sun has set and the sky is dark you hear them go to bed, and not ten minutes later the soft snores of your father start drifting through your wall. 

You’re too worked up to sleep. What you should do is reach into your drawer, pull out your vibrator and get yourself off, drift off to sleep and let it lie. Without thinking about the consequences though, you’re standing from your bed and opening your bedroom door as quietly as you can. You close it behind you and when there isn’t a lull in the sound of your parents snoring you know you’re in the clear. You pad down the stairs and slip on your sandals at the door, slipping out once you’ve grabbed one of your dad’s ties from the washing basket. 

You’re halfway down the street when you really think about what you’re doing. Turning up to his house unannounced with a big plan and no real idea on how to execute it properly. What if he was already in bed? Or what if he’d decided to stay in town with Tommy and have a drink? Thankfully as you get closer to his house you notice his truck is in the driveway. A few steps later you see the light in the bottom window, meaning he’s still up and about. 

You knock gently at the door, listening as you can hear shuffling behind it before he pulls it open. He looks you up and down with a smirk on his face, fingers hooked into the top of his jeans like he always stands. 

“Well, ain’t this a nice surprise?” 

“You started something you didn’t finish,” You breathe, stepping close enough to him to press your body against his own, “I want you to finish it,” You demand, “Right now.” 

“That so?” 

You step back just enough to reach your hands to his shoulders, pushing him back inside his home. You’re half-aware of him slamming the door shut behind you, but then his hands are snaking around your waist and your back is pressed against the wall as his lips finally crash to yours. It’s messy, all teeth and tongue, but you’re not complaining. You’d been dreaming of him kissing you all evening. 

“How am I meant to finish it then, sweetheart?” He asks, breathing against your lips before joining them together again. 

“Bedroom,” You gasp out the next time he pulls away from you, “Take me to bed, Joel.” 

He wastes no time in grasping at your wrist and pulling you up the stairs and into his room. It is so quintessentially Joel. Bed unmade, overflowing washing basket in the corner. Chest of drawers which wouldn’t close because each drawer was stuffed so full of clothes and other things they were overflowing. 

You turn to him, he’s leant in the doorway, cool as a cat, which infuriates you because you are so incredibly turned on. Your chest is heaving with every breath you take, skin flushed hot, “Take off your clothes.” You insist. 

“Take off my clothes?” 

“Did I stutter?” You raise an eyebrow and his face drops when he knows you mean business. 

He’s slow about it. He drags his t-shirt over his head as he walks towards his bed, discarding it to the floor as you turn on the spot to follow him with your eyes. Then he’s looking straight at you as he undoes his belt with one hand, pulling it through the belt loops to fall to the floor as well. He unbuttons and unzips his jeans, pulling them down excruciatingly slowly. Then he stands and waits. 

“All of it, Joel.” You motion to his boxers with the clear bulge of his cock visible through them. 

“As you wish, ma’am.” And they too are discarded, leaving him completely naked to your complete state of dress. 

“On the bed.” 

You wonder if he can tell what might be about to happen because he lies down on the bed, head propped against the pillow. You’re quick to take your place at the foot of the bed, crawling up his body to straddle his hips. You can feel his cock nudging against the cotton of your underwear as you fall into him and kiss him. He opens his mouth against yours and it’s at this moment that you pull the tie from inside your bra into one hand. His eyes are closed, and he has no idea what’s about to happen. You drop the tie on the pillow next to him, using one hand to wrap around one his wrists, pulling it to rest above his head. You put all your weight on this hand, using your other to pull his other wrist above his head also. 

He's too busy tangling his tongue with yours and bucking his hips into your clothed pussy to notice you reaching for the tie on the pillow. In fact, it’s not until you’re pulling yourself away from him and wrapping the silk of the tie around his wrists and knotting it to the headboard that he starts to question what you’re doing. 

“What- fuck baby, what’re you doing?” His voice is wavering as he tugs his wrists. 

“Making you pay.” You shrug, simply. 

“Whatever did I do to deserve this?” He asks, watching intently as you start moving down his body with trails of your tongue, stopping occasionally, to press hot kisses to his skin. 

“You already forget your teasing from earlier?” You mumble against his skin. 

“Thought you liked it.” He whimpers as your lips are peppering kisses along his pubic bone, ignoring the throbbing of his cock. 

“I did,” You admit, “Until you left me high and dry.” 

“That wasn’t my fault,” He insists, breathing laboured, “If Tommy wasn’t so insistent, I’d have stayed and fucked you in that garden.” 

You hum against his skin, trailing kisses down his thighs, dragging your fingernails after your mouth. You revel in the sounds of his deep breathing and the gasps he’s letting out. 

“I don’t think this is very fair, sweetheart.” Joel’s strained voice comes from above you, causing you to take a break from pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses along his thighs. 

“You weren’t complaining about teasing when you were in charge, Mr Miller.” 

You hear a groan of frustration because he knows it’s true. He knows he pushed his luck earlier and he knows this is one battle he’s not going to win. He relents his incessant pulling at the tie that’s got him trapped to the headboard, not quite sure how you’re so practiced at tying men up so they can’t move, but he files that away to ask about later. Now he just focuses on you and your lips. The lips that he so wishes would just move a little to the right and envelop his cock in one go. He’s sure the relief from your teasing would be enough to having him come down your throat in minutes. 

If you were a better woman, you’d have been able to keep this up for hours, but there’s an ache between your legs that is crying out to you to bury yourself on his cock. You can tell from the way he’s jutting his hips up to meet your lips wherever you kiss him that’s telling you he’s struggling too. You’ve proven your point, now it’s time to have fun. 

“What do you want Joel?” You ask, looking up at him from your place between his thighs. 

His eyes are begging you, “Sweetheart,” He huffs, “I need your mouth on me.” 

He’s waited long enough. You grip the base of his cock in your hand, running your tongue along the underside before your lips wrap around the tip. The moan that drops from his mouth is indecent, and it only gets better when you start bobbing your head up and down his length. 

“Untie me baby,” He begs as you feel his cock hit the back of your throat, “I wanna put my hands on you.” 

You pull your mouth off him, using your hand to jerk him off, running strands of saliva up and down his length, “I don’t think so, you got more than enough earlier.” 

He throws his head back and groans as you put your mouth back on him, taking him as far down your throat as possible, using your hand to pump the rest of his length that you couldn’t. His groans spur you on until he bucks his hips up as your mouth is running down his length, causing you to gag, tears forming in your eyes. 

“Shit… shit baby,” He curses and then mumbles that he’s sorry, “I ain’t gonna last much longer, let me fuck you.” 

Your pussy is practically begging for him to be inside of you, clenching around nothing at all with every drag of your mouth and swirl of your tongue around him, so he doesn’t have to tell you twice. You push yourself back on your knees, pulling your dress over your head and your underwear down your legs. 

“Condoms?” You asked, his head motions to the bedside table. 

You lean over him and pull one out, ripping the package open with your teeth before you’re rolling it down his length and straddling his hips, your tight cunt hovering inches above him. One last attempt at teasing him. He’s lined up just right with your entrance that when he bucks his hips, the head of his cock is nudging through your slick and into you and you’ve lost the game. 

You sink yourself down onto him, throwing your head back in pleasure as your roll your hips and grind onto him. You open your eyes and the picture below you is a sight to behold. Joel, with his hands tied to his headboard by your dad’s striped, blue work tie, mouth agape with your name tumbling from his lips. He’s got a sheen of sweat across his beautifully tanned skin, beads of it pooling at his temples and dropping down onto the pillowcase below. He is completely at your mercy, and you think that if you tried hard enough, stared at him for long enough, that just this sight alone could make you come. 

“Baby c’mon, untie me.” Joel begs once again. 

You shake your head, instead leaning back, one hand gripping his knee behind you to steady yourself, the other snaking down your body to rest on your pussy. You dip your fingers down low enough to gather slick from where Joel’s cock is splitting you open, dragging your fingers up to circle your clit. You’re so sensitive from the teasing and the wanting that you know you’re finished before you really even start. 

“God damn,” Joel moans beneath you, “So fuckin’ tight for me, that’s it, play with your pretty pussy for me,” Even when he’s tied up, he’s a menace, “Can feel you clenching me baby, you gonna come?” You nod your head but continue bouncing on his cock whilst your fingers bring you to the edge, “Touched yourself for less than a minute and you’re gonna come all over my cock, ain’t ya?” 

“Fuck Joel, it’s just too good.” 

“I know baby, I know,” He’s coaxing you, bringing his hips up to meet you on your way down, hitting that delicious spot inside you that he knows will make you come undone, “Give it to me, darlin’.” 

It’s all you need. You hand is dropping from your pussy, palms of your hands hitting his chest as you convulse around his cock, crying his name out into the depths of his bedroom. He doesn’t let up his thrusts though, pounding into you from below, chasing his own high which soon follows. 

You can feel the throbbing of his cock inside you, wishing that you could feel him painting your slick walls with his seed. Soon, you think, but not yet.

You’re face down on his chest when he mumbles from above you, “Think you can untie me now?”

You chuckle, pushing yourself off his chest to untie the knot. It comes apart easily and you think that if he had really wanted to, he could have pulled his hands apart and freed himself. He’s taking the tie from your hands. 

“Where the hell’d you even get this?” He asks as you collapse onto the bed next to him. 

“It’s my dad’s.” You smirk, turning to him, his eyes wide, dropping the tie to the floor like it had burnt him. 

“M’never gonna be able to look at that man the same way.” He mumbles, turning onto his side, propping himself up on one arm, whilst using the other to rub soft circles on the skin of your tummy. 

“Had to teach you a lesson somehow,” You grin at him, “Bet you won’t tease me again.” 

“Oh sugar, if you’re gonna tie me up and ride me like that every time, you bet your bottom dollar I absolutely will.” 

#Joel Miller #Joel Miller fic #Joel Miller fanfiction #Joel Miller fanfic #dbf!Joel #dbf!Joel Miller #dbf!Joel smut #The Last Of Us #Pedro Pascal #The Last Of Us hbo #Joel Miller smut #tlou #tlou fic #tlou hbo #tlou smut #Joel tlou #Joel Miller x you #Joel Miller x reader #Joel Miller x female reader #Joel Miller x f!reader #Joel Miller Pedro Pascal

[secretswiftymarvelfan]

So happy belated 3000! I know I am a little late to the party but we’ll, here I am 😅 I kinda missed the post for the „I love you 3000 writing bonanza“… But if you still take request I gonna leave this one here:

What about some smutty CEO!Ari „I might be a terrible dancer, but I‘ve got great moves in bed“? Because… Ari is… 🥵

Ari is in a league of his own and it's been a while since I've written him so oh boy was this a treat!

Elementary - CEO!Ari Levinson x Reader

Summary: Too many shots of tequila plus an insanely attractive boss equals an unforgettable night

Word Count: 1.6k

Warning: Fluff! Alcohol Consumption! SMUT! 18 + ONLY! Minors DNI!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

Masterlist / Celebration Masterlist

You had no idea how you got into this situation. Well… actually no you did. To break it down into a simple mathematic equation (office party + alcohol) + insanely attractive boss = incredibly awkward and frankly stupid social interactions. 

From the moment you met Ari, you were completely smitten. You were surprised that you even got the job as his personal assistant after spending the majority of the interview drooling over his insane body which he teased with his rolled-up sleeves and one too many shirt buttons undone. Yet somehow you did, you guessed your extensive CV and experience did most of the talking because your mouth certainly didn’t. 

When you were offered the job you weren’t even sure if you should accept it or not. If you did you would have unlimited access to stare and daydream about him, you would be the person closest to him in the entire company. But you weren’t entirely sure whether you could actually do the job with a distraction as good as him only a short distance away. You didn’t think you could bear the embarrassment of being fired by him. 

Your friends and a couple shots of tequila gave you the courage to accept the job, because you were really, really good at being a personal assistant. So surely even if you were distracted you would still just be a good assistant. 

Thankfully it was surprisingly easy. While your crush remained it definitely became less intense and debilitating after a couple of weeks. You guessed it was because of Ari’s easy-going, charismatic nature. It was impossible to not become friends with him and with that friendship came an air of ease between you. He wasn’t a big terrifying CEO, he was just Ari. Did you still have fantasies about him? Yes of course, but you were still able to walk into his office and not be a bumbling mess. 

That easygoing friendship was irrevocably changed at the most recent office party. You couldn’t remember exactly why or what you were celebrating, you just knew that Ari asked you to book a private bar and make sure there was plenty of booze. Which you did, too well, because if there had been less booze you probably wouldn’t have made a fool of yourself. 

In your defence Ari is a terrible influence, all it would take was a flash of his lopsided smile and you’d do whatever he said. Including drinking more shots of tequila than you should have. You could argue however that you were a bad influence too, you were the one who dragged him out onto the dance floor. With so much alcohol pumping through your veins you didn’t think much about how you were moving your body, you just danced. Ari had laughed and danced along with you, the warmth of his hand never far from you as he held your hand, or ran it down your back or sides. 

“It’s a good thing dancing skills weren’t essential when I hired you” he laughed after you pulled out a dance move that was frankly criminal. 

You shot him a smile as you turned to face him, hips twisting as you placed your hands on his shoulders. He in turn rested his on your waist, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as your hands shifted down to rest on his chest.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” you said beckoning him closer so you could whisper in his ear “I might be a terrible dancer, but I‘ve got great moves in bed”

You could hear his quiet groan over the heavy bass of the music as he pulled away enough to look you in the eyes. His gaze turned so heated you were sure you were about to melt. 

“Oh really? Are you up for showing me those moves?” he asked, voice low, his hands drifting to the small of your back. 

You bit your lip as you smirked up at him. To hell with the consequences. You nodded your head. 

Ari gave you a wolfish grin “Let’s go then” he said, turning you around, keeping his hands on your hips as he led you out of the bar. 

You knew exactly where he was taking you, he’d asked you to book a bar in a hotel and to also book him a room so he could crash there without needing a driver to take him home. Your heart was pounding in your chest, electricity pulsing along your skin as heat pooled at your core. 

You’d barely stepped into the suite when you both began devouring each other. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and practically climbed him like a tree as he walked you back towards the bed. Your dress was discarded on the floor, and his shirt ripped open before the back of your knees even hit the mattress. 

Despite the amount of alcohol in your system, you felt 100% sober and aware as he knelt down, hooked your leg over his shoulder and dove in to taste you. If the alcohol was dampening your senses you wondered what this would be like sober because it was already so goddamn amazing. You weren’t even embarrassed at how quickly you came because it was the best damn orgasm of your life. 

As soon as he rose back up you grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him down on top of you, tasting yourself on his lips and his weight pressed down onto you. No time was wasted getting him completely naked and inside you. The stretch was so perfect that you were certain you were completely ruined. It was like a completely animalistic side of both of you won out as you clung onto him, nailed biting into his skin as he thrust deeply into you. 

The rest of the night was a blur, yet one you could remember with absolute clarity. You’d lost count of how many rounds you had gone but you knew that you had performed more positions in one night than you had in your entire sexual history. If you had a sex bucket list it would be halfway completed by the time you and Ari collapsed back into bed, too tired and out of surfaces to carry on. 

Which brings us to now. The moment you wake up, your body sore like you had climbed Mount Everest five times and your head pounding. You blinked a couple of times as your eyes tried to adjust to the light pouring in. Once they had it didn’t take you long to realise you weren’t in your bed, nor were you in your apartment. The weight draped across you was not your duvet, it was a long and muscular arm.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you followed the arm back towards its owner, alarm bells ringing when you saw Ari fast asleep next to you. Shit. You remembered every last detail from the night before, you didn’t regret any of it because how could you regret the best night of your life? But you were absolutely certain you were about to lose your job. 

You didn’t have much time to dwell on that thought at all though as Ari’s eyelid fluttered open and his bright blue eyes immediately landed on you. 

“Hey,” he murmured, voice deep with sleep. 

You instantly melted hearing his voice, he already had a deep sexy timbre but adding sleep to it just took it to a whole other level.

“Hey,” you whispered. 

His arm around you tightened, pulling you closer so your head was resting on his chest “I had a lot of fun last night… did you?” he asked, fingers tailing up and down your arm. 

“Yeah… I did” you admitted because there was no way you could lie to him. 

“Good” he hummed “wanna make it a regular thing?” you were silent for long enough that he added “And I don’t just mean last night, I mean dinners and all that other stuff people do together” 

You were pretty sure your heart skipped a beat, you gazed up at him and saw that lopsided smile that made it impossible to say no. And why the hell would you say no, more nights like last night and mornings waking up next to him? You’d be insane if you said no.

A smile crept onto your face as you nodded “I’d love that” you said quietly. 

Ari smiled back down at you, as he cupped your cheek and kissed you softly “Good” he grinned before shifting slightly beneath you “I don’t wanna talk about work but on Monday I want you to wear that cute little black pencil skirt” he smirked. 

You chuckled “Done, anything else you want me to do boss?” you smirked. 

“I want you to put out a job advert for another PA,” he told you. 

It felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped on you, yeah you loved the idea of being with Ari but you still needed a job “What?” you choked out. 

Ari shushed you gently “Don’t worry, you still have your job if you want it” he reassured you “I just think we’re gonna need another assistant to help out while we have some fun in my office” he grinned. 

Your smile returned to your face as you nodded “It’ll be the second thing I do Monday morning” 

Ari arched a brow “What’s the first?”

You bit your lip as you shifted closer to him, your lips a breath away from his “you” you whispered before kissing him deeply.

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[statusexile]

Rip Off the Tag, Get Him Mad

Summary: Konig’s magnetic walk and mysterious mask make him a new darling in the fashion industry, and you manage to score an exclusive interview with him. You might not know what he looks like — but you sure do know what he tastes like.

Pairing: Konig x Reader

Warnings: afab!reader, dub con, dom!Konig, p-in-v, fellatio, mating press, dirty talk, brat taming, breeding kink, cum eating, creampie, badly translated German, reader goes by she/her pronouns, probably not very accurate in terms of both journalism and fashion but who cares I’m only here for sexy times.

Word count: 3,696 words

NSFW. MDNI!

a/n: Got inspired while listening to New Bottega by Azealia Banks and all I could picture in my head was supermodel!Konig for no reason lmao. As always, suggestion and feedback are always welcome along with reblogs and likes. Thank you for reading! ❤️

I put the boy in Galliano, now he’s a fuckin’ model

It was four in the morning and you had just landed in Vienna, your third destination for this week alone. Paris and Milan had taken their toll on your body, leaving you feeling so exhausted and jetlagged that you wondered if they had already become your permanent companions forever. Tired and bleary-eyed, you are ready for a break, but duty called.

You’re one of the most seasoned and notorious fashion journalists, never holding back on saying what everyone’s thinking, even if it means models walking out or crying during your interviews. It’s not personal though; you’re just doing your job, and damn, you’re good at it. Your knack for keeping it real and staying objective makes you stand out in the game.

You managed to sneak in a few hours of sleep before getting ready for Vienna Fashion Week. That afternoon, you rocked a cool vibe with an oversized black blazer that had this rad belt and chain combo going on. The vibe continued with a flowy, see-through black maxi skirt — the kind that made people do a double take. Toss in a mini bag swinging casually by your side, and you are ready to own the fashion week. Of course, the look wouldn't be complete without knee-high black boots, giving off major laid-back but put-together vibes. You kept your makeup minimal because you wanted your outfit to be the focal point of the entire look.

As you arrived at the event, fashion photographers and paparazzi started flocking to you, asking what you’re wearing and what you’re most excited to see during this fashion week. You posed for some photos and answered some questions. After navigating the sea of photographers, you made your way inside, where the atmosphere buzzed with the energy of influential figures in the fashion world, celebrities, and social media influencers. Greetings and compliments flowed as you mingled with the diverse crowd, exchanging smiles and posing for candid snapshots with some of the industry’s most notable figures.

You found yourself in the company of those who shaped the fashion landscape. The anticipation for the runway shows heightened as you took your seat in front row, surrounded by the pulsating energy of the fashion elite. The runway was set to unfold, promising a spectacle that would undoubtedly leave an incredible mark on this fashion week.

It was a runway showcasing the Fall/Winter ready-to-wear collection for men from one of the most prestigious high-fashion brands in the world. Anticipating a display of dark and muted tones, you were aware that the brand had embraced a theme this year focusing on leather. Getting a peek at this theme had you all hyped up, ready to see the slick and stylish gear they’re about to drop.

It doesn’t take long before the lights dim, signaling the start of the show. The sharp contrast between the dim lighting and focused spotlights heightens the dramatic atmosphere as models strut down the runway, showcasing the leather-themed collection. Stud appliques, dark makeup, and industrial styling add an edgy flair as they graze the runway. You’re making mental notes for your upcoming review, absolutely impressed with what you're witnessing. The collection has been really magnificent, surpassing your usual expectations.

The entire show lasted around fifteen minutes before the final model made his entrance. The man that has been the talk of the fashion industry for the last eight months. He strutted in wearing an absolutely grandiose leather coat, wearing a Swarovski-studded mask that covered his entire face. The confidence in his walk conveyed a commanding presence, making it seem as if the entire audience was under his control.

Konig, a native Austrian with real name, age and hair color unknown, stands six foot ten, weighing two hundred and seventy pounds and has piercing blue eyes. The man has been nothing but an enigma, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. Opening and closing runaways for prestigious high-end brands — a position that takes years for other models to secure. And what’s even wilder? He pulled it off within his first two months in the industry.

His social media has tens of millions of followers and zero following. The entire page is a curated showcase of his portfolios and videos of his runway walks, nothing more. It doesn’t seem like he’s the one handling his account either. Everything is perfectly set up, adding this extra layer of mystery to him.

You can’t help but wonder: Who is this man? Who’s behind his sudden meteoric rise? Is he a nepo baby? Is he some kind of industry insider pulling strings to get all these bookings without even having a single portfolio before? Could he be a pro basketball player doing a side gig in modeling? Or what if he’s an alien in human disguise? So many questions, but not a single answer. You’ve asked so many people in the industry about him, but it seems like nobody has a clue either.

You’ve seen his casting polaroids and test shoot photos, and even in those, he’s wearing a mask, revealing only his eyes. It really makes you wonder, because that’s the complete opposite of the purpose of taking those photos. They’re meant to showcase your bare face, not cover it up. Yet, somehow, he’s scoring bookings when practically no one has seen his face. How does he even manage to do that?

There are rumors circulating that just a very few high-profile figures in the industry actually know what he looks like, and they can be counted with one hand. Some claim he’s hiding an unflattering appearance under that mask, that’s why he insists on covering his face despite of his exceptional walk and stage presence. Others insist he looks like he’s actually sculpted by a Greek God himself, but he prefers recognition for his walk rather than his looks.

He’s also notorious for rejecting interviews and walking out on them. Even when he agrees to an interview, it's usually short and filled with vague answers. But one day, you send a proposal for an exclusive interview to his management and discover that he’s accepted your request, but he insists it should happen at his own home in Vienna. His request seems a bit unprofessional to you, but it’s your only chance to uncover who this man really is. So, you agreed on his term.

And fortunately for you, that lucky day is today.

After attending a handful more runway shows for the day, you’ve wrapped up your work and are heading back to your hotel. Now, you’re diving into drafting the upcoming articles slated for this fashion week, as you prepare to interview Konig, the man and the myth himself tonight.

Your heart is pounding with a mix of anticipation and nervousness, and you have no idea why. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt anything like this. You’ve interviewed dozens of models in your life, so what’s the difference between them and him? Usually, it’s them who are scared of you, not the other way around.

Brushing aside that feeling, you started preparing for the interview this evening. After a refreshing shower, you got dressed and did your makeup. Wearing a silk white long-sleeve shirt paired with a black pencil midi skirt and black stilettos, you finished the look with a bold choice — ruby red lipstick. For some reason, you’re feeling especially bold for tonight’s interview.

He lives not far from your hotel as you reached your destination in less than fifteen minutes. Following the address provided by his management, you entered the building and found his apartment. Without hesitation, you rang on the doorbell.

He opened the door in no time. It caught you off guard as it was the first time you’ve seen him up close. Describing him as tall seems like a massive understatement; his presence is downright colossal as he stands right in front of you. Dressed in a balaclava, a snug black t-shirt accentuating his sculpted body, and green army-colored cargo pants. This is the first time you’ve had a close look at his eyes, and they are breathtaking — a gorgeous shade of steely blue.

“I’ve been expecting you. Please, come in.” Konig said as he gestured for you to come inside.

As you entered his home, you could see that this man has an exquisite taste in decor. His loft has high ceilings and large windows, making the space feel open and airy. The brick walls and exposed piping create a natural, industrial feel, while the rich, warm tones of red and orange add a cozy touch to the space. The walls are adorned with numerous photographs of his work as a model.

He gestured for you to take a seat on the couch and asked what you’d like to drink. You told him water’s fine, so he disappeared into the kitchen for a bit. When he came back, he placed a glass of water on the coffee table in front of you. He sits on the couch across from you afterward.

“Konig, thank you very much for agreeing to meet with me for this interview. Our magazine really appreciates your time and willingness to share your story with us.” You told him as you took your phone out of your bag, opening the recording app on it.

He leaned back on the couch, crossing his arms. “Anything I could do to help, miss.” he said. You could hear his deep voice with a thick German accent as this is first time you heard him speak.

“By accepting this interview, you consent to being recorded during our conversation today, alright?” you said to him as you pushed the ‘record’ button on your phone. He only nodded in approval.

You began your interview by asking him cookie-cutter questions, such as what inspired him to pursue modeling as a career, how he handles the challenges of balancing work and personal life, who his fashion icons are and how they influenced his personal style, how he stays fit and healthy while maintaining a demanding modeling schedule, and how he handles criticism and negative feedback from the fashion industry and the public. And of course, he answered them all with cookie-cutter answers too.

You could hear the cockiness and smugness in his tone, and you could feel that it annoys you a little bit. Despite being a relative rookie in the scene, his ego seems to radiate through his presence. However, that’s precisely the reason you’re here for this interview — to unmask who this man actually is.

You’re now ready to ask him a tougher question, intending to push his buttons slowly but sure. You’ve convinced yourself that it’s going to happen today. It has to, because this is your only chance.

“Can you explain your reasoning behind the mask? Usually models rely on their facial features as a part of their appeal, so covering it seems counterintuitive.”

Konig seems a bit caught off guard by your question. He stays quiet for a moment, clearly thinking how to respond. You can see that the question has ticked him off a little bit.

“Is that your attempt at a compliment? I’m flattered. I can do whatever I want with my appearance.” Konig answered sarcastically, but the annoyance in his tone was crystal clear. “Besides, I don’t think it’s interrupting my work. I showcase the clothes on the runway, demonstrating what they need to sell. At the end of the day, that's what matters as a model, isn’t it?” he continues.

You can’t argue with him because, well, he’s right. He did his job exactly the way they wanted, and he’s damn good at it. So, all you can do is nod at his answer.

You kept your composure as you continue with your interview, “It’s been suggested that your parents are highly influential figures in the fashion industry and that their connections may have contributed to your quick rise to fame. How would you respond to those allegations?”

Konig let out a scoff, his tone dripping with mockery in response to your next question. “I get it, there are some rumors going around that my parents are some moguls in the fashion industry and they have connections that helped me get where I am today, but let me set this straight: my parents have never worked in the fashion industry and all the success I’ve achieved is because of my own hard work and determination. Just because my career has taken off doesn’t mean it isn’t legit.”

Konig is clearly annoyed at this point, but he still manages to answer your question. You’re surprised he hasn't kicked you out of his home yet. But when you’re about to ask your last question but he suddenly cuts you off,

“You’re really nosy, aren’t you?”

“What can I say, it comes with the job requirement.”

You finally manage to talk back to him because his attitude is clearly getting under your skin, just like your questions seem to annoy him. While he might believe he can act however he pleases, he’s unaware that you’re a journalist. If it weren’t for your commitment to integrity and professionalism, you could easily run your thoughts about his attitude at this point.

“Look, one last question and I’ll be out of your hair,” you told him, you can see his patience is clearly running low at this point. However, what he didn’t know is that you’re about to drop a bomb on him.

“Did you earn your success through talent or hard work or did you have to do… other thing to get where you are today?”

His eyes narrowed into a fierce glare while he stares at you, he clearly doesn’t like the question at all. You could practically feel the tension in the air as he clenched his jaw, gritting his teeth underneath that mask as a silent display of anger.

“I don’t like what you’re implying.”

“And my question still stands.”

He leans forward on the couch, anger flashing vividly in his eyes and now you can almost feel the heat of his irritation as he growls in frustration.

“You can cut through the formal bullshit and just say what you want to say.”

You take your phone from the coffee table and press the ‘stop’ button, finally responding to him in a calm manner.

“Did you fuck your way up to the top, Konig?”

And that was his breaking point. He suddenly stands up from his couch as he walks toward you, anger intensifying in his eyes. He grabs your chin forcefully, making you meet his gaze.

“Not only nosy, but you also have a filthy little mouth, aren’t ya, maus?” you could feel his strong hand squeezing your face so hard that it feels like he’s trying to break your jaw. It was so painful that you couldn’t answer to him at all.

“But don’t worry, I’m gonna do something about it, so you won’t run your filthy mouth anymore, especially at me.” he growls at you while his other hand is unbuckling his belt and unzipped his pants, revealing this thick, enormous cock, already dripping with precum. He grabbed it and then started smearing the precum on your face, slapping his cock a few times on your cheeks.

“You need some serious disciplining, maus. Didn’t they teach you at school that it’s not nice to curse at other people, hm?” Konig started to tease the tip of his cock of your lips, smearing your lips with his precum.

“You’re lucky that I’m here, maybe I can teach you a thing or two about how to behave towards other people. Now open that filthy fucking mouth.” his other hand squeezed your mouth open and he thrusted his cock inside your mouth, forcing you to engulf his entire length in one go, making you violently gag as you could feel his tip touched the back of your throat. And now, he moved his hand from your face to your hair, grabbing a handful of it as he rapidly fucking your mouth.

Tears began streaming down your cheeks, mascara and lipstick began to smear across your face. It’s getting hard for you to breathe because he shoved his cock so deep and slamming it on the back of your throat, pounding over and over again mercilessly. His grip is so strong; it feels like he’s going to rip your entire scalp off.

“Fuuuuck, this mouth of yours is so fucking tight and warm. You should consider leaving your current job and become my personal fuck toy, maus. I would love to use this filthy mouth however and whenever I want, it seems like it’s the only good use for it.” he snickers with a devilish gleam in his eyes while he keeps fucking your mouth relentlessly. You started choking on his length, but he didn’t seem to care, in fact, it made him slam his cock even faster.

It feels like this has been going on forever, and you’re afraid you might get lockjaw anytime soon. But you could feel he’s so close to orgasm as his cock starts twitching in your mouth.

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum. I hope you’re ready, schatz, because I’m gonna fill that filthy mouth real good,” he grunts as his thrust becoming more and more erratic. It only takes a couple more thrusts before he came, coating you’re the walls of mouth with his thick seeds.

Konig finally pulled his cock out from your mouth. His cum tastes so bitter, but when you’re about to spit it out, he forcefully grabbed your face again, now facing his face directly.

“You’re not allowed to spit it out. I want you to swallow it but only when I said so. Now be a good girl and keep it in your mouth, but if you didn’t, I can promise that you won’t like the punishment at all. Understood?” he snarls at you but your mouth is so full of his cum you so can only nod at his words.

“Good, because I’m not done with you,” Konig suddenly pushed you back down to the couch as he pulls your legs up forcefully, ripping the side of your tight skirt and yanked your panties, also ripping it in the process. He puts your legs around his waist as he put his cock on top your stomach, seeing how deep it’s gonna go inside of you.

“Hmmm, I don’t think the entire thing is gonna fit. But don’t worry, schatz, I’ll make it fit. I know you can do it, you’re a big girl after all.” Konig lightly taps your cheek, he’s trying to sound sweet but you hear the venom in his tone. You know at that moment he’s definitely going to destroy you.

“Are you on the pill?” he asked again. You can only shake your head, hoping that he’ll go easy on you. “Heh, good.” he suddenly pulled your legs up over his shoulder and titled towards you, he then whispers in a husky tone,

“Weil ich dich so hart ficken werde, bis du mich zum Papa machst.”

His cock suddenly dipping into you, makes you nearly chocked on his cum. You can feel the tip of his cock stretched your cervix thin, slamming the same spot repeatedly as he folds your body like an origami. You feel like you’re going to sprain your neck if you stay in this position for a long time, but of course he didn’t care. He keeps using your body like you’re his personal cum dumpster.

You’re trying to protest but you can’t open your mouth, otherwise you’re gonna spill out his cum and you definitely don’t want that. Only a stifled whimper escapes your lips. He chuckled in response to your failed attempt at protest.

“Not”—thrust—“so”—thrust—“nosy”—thrust—“any”—thrust— “more”—thrust—“aren’t”—thrust—“you”

He’s pounding you hard and fast with each syllable of his words. Your eyes rolled back to the back of your head. Your mind went numb at the intense pleasure.

“Your pussy is so fucking tight, and it’s all mine to use.” he growls at you as he keeps fucking you mercilessly. You’re not on the pill and he’s not using a condom, so there’s a chance he’s going to get you pregnant after this, but they way he’s fucking you so hard and so good makes you not want him to stop until both of you are satisfied.

You can feel he’s close to orgasm again and so are you. Just a couple more thrusts, he finally came inside of you as both of you reached your climax at the same time. Filling you with his thick, milky white cum. Your cheek throbs with pain, your mind feels foggy, and your vision blurs into static.

Konig finally put down your legs, as he seeing his thick cum oozing from your now sore, puffy cunt. He gazes at it, amusement and desire dripping from his eyes. “Now swallow my cum, maus. Stick your tongue out when you’re done, I wanna see you swallow it all.”

You obey him as you swallowed all his cum and sticks out your tongue as a prove. “What an obedient girl.” he said, you can see him smiling through his mask.

He pulls up his pants and plop down next to you on the couch, while you’re still catching your breath and trying to gain your composure.

“I’ll be in New York in two days, and I assume this interview isn’t over. I will tell my manager to send you the hotel address where I’m staying and the room number. I’m expecting to see you there.” he said softly as he caresses your hair gently.

You replied, “I will come, but with one condition: I want to see your face. Otherwise, it's not going to happen.”

He chuckled at your request, “If you play your cards right, that request is not off the table,” he said as he keeps caressing your hair, “But only if you’re a good girl, okay, beautiful?”

He scooches over towards you, leaning as he whispers in your ear,

“Otherwise, I’ll use you just like I use the rest of them.”

#whew this took forever to write ngl #konig #könig #konig x reader #konig x reader smut #könig x reader #könig x reader smut #call of duty modern warfare 2 smut #call of duty #call of duty smut #call of duty warzone #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw2 smut #cod smut #shaf writes #tw: dubcon