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blueberrisdove-sideblog · 26 days ago

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COCKWARING, ☆ ft. mydei & phainon.

paring : mydei x bratty fem!reader x phainon.

tws : nsfw / smut. creampie (anal & vaginal), chocking, phaidei sandwich, biting, cōckdrunk reader, dumbification, hair pullling, size kink, reader mentioned to have curly hair, p*rn with no plot, cūmstuffed, belly bulge and messy sēx. minors do not interact.

Your curls were clinging to your face, soaked with sweat and drool, bouncing with every thrust. You couldn’t even beg properly anymore—your mouth was open, tongue out, a trail of spit dripping from your lips.

Phainon was underneath you, cock buried so deep in your pussy you could feel it in your ribs. Every time he bottomed out, your breath hitched, your vision blurred, your fingers clenched uselessly around his shoulders.

And behind you—Mydei was a fucking animal.

His cock was thick, rough, mean, splitting your ass open without mercy. His hand was twisted in your hair, tugging your head back so you could barely breathe. His breath was hot against your neck, and his voice was low and filthy in your ear.

“Look at you.”

Your belly was stretched, bulging visibly with the size of both of them inside you, pressing so deep their cocks were pushing against each other through your body. You glanced down and saw it—your stomach shifting with every brutal thrust.

“Fuck,” you slurred. “Can’t—can’t take it—‘s too big—”

Phainon chuckled, calm and cruel, his fingers tweaking your nipples while he rolled his hips just enough to make you squirm. “You’re taking it. Look how pretty you are like this. All stuffed, all stretched… you were made for this.”

You sobbed and gasped, your whole body twitching.

Mydei growled against your ear, then bit into your shoulder, hard enough to leave bruises, and slammed forward. You screamed—his cock ground deep into your guts, and your ass clenched around him like it was desperate to keep him inside.

“Keep crying,” he said through gritted teeth. “I want you to fucking cry while we fill you.”

You were already leaking—your cunt dripping all over Phainon’s thighs, the mix of your slick and their precum soaking everything. Your skin was marked in fingerprints, teeth, sweat. You were nothing but their toy now.

Phainon shifted and grabbed your waist, fucking up into you harder, each stroke knocking the breath out of you. He was smiling, calm, gentle in the way he held you—cruel in the way he bottomed out every single time.

“Bet you can’t even think anymore, can you?” he whispered, tugging at your nipples. “Look at you. Just a stupid hole with curls bouncing while we ruin you.”

You couldn’t answer. You couldn’t even blink. Your eyes were glassy, rolling back, your lips parted as tears spilled down your cheeks.

Mydei pulled your head back further by your hair and wrapped his hand around your throat. He squeezed, and your moan came out strangled, breathless.

“You want us to stuff you full?” he hissed, cock pounding deep into your ass. “Want your pretty little belly all pumped full of cum?”

“Yes,” you choked, drool dripping down your chin. “Please, please—want it—need it—fill me—”

Phainon moaned low in his throat. “Then take it.”

Your body clenched hard as both of them slammed into you at once—and then they came.

It hit you like a truck.

Mydei grunted as his cock twitched inside your ass, thick streams of cum spilling deep into you. The warmth of it filled your insides, pressure building until your belly visibly swelled more.

Phainon wasn’t far behind—he gasped, hands gripping your hips, cock twitching deep in your cunt as he pumped you full, thick and hot, until it spilled out around his base and soaked the sheets.

You couldn’t even scream. You just spasmed, pussy clenching down and milking him for everything, your whole body shaking with the force of it.

They didn’t pull out.

They kept you there—Phainon holding your waist, Mydei pressing your back to his chest, his hand still around your throat, both cocks twitching inside you while your belly swelled, sticky and overstretched, so full you could feel it sloshing.

You were just a whimpering.

“Good girl,” Phainon whispered, lips brushing your jaw. “You were made for this.”

“Still think you’re a brat?” Mydei asked, breath hot and heavy.

You tried to answer, but all that came out was a little moan and more drool.

“Didn’t think so.”

Your body felt like melted sugar—warm, sticky, and useless.

Your thighs were trembling, twitching every now and then when aftershocks rippled through your muscles. Your belly was swollen, flushed and sensitive, their cum still tucked deep inside you where it had no choice but to stay. You’d been stuffed full. Used until you were nothing but a drooly, needy mess.

And yet… neither of them had pulled out.

Phainon’s cock stayed nestled deep in your pussy, and Mydei’s—thicker, still twitching—was buried in your ass. They’d barely moved for the past ten minutes, just holding you. Breathing with you. Rocking their hips slow, careful, so gentle.

Your curls were stuck to your forehead, damp and messy, and Phainon’s fingers kept brushing them away, smoothing your hair back with delicate little touches like you weren’t still split open on their cocks. His other hand rested on your lower belly, pressing down just the tiniest bit—right over that full spot where the bulge still lived.

“You’re still so tight around us,” he murmured, his voice soft and warm against your cheek. “It’s like your body doesn’t want to let go.”

You whined, barely able to lift your head. “I don’t want you to… feels good like this…”

Mydei chuckled behind you. You could feel his breath against your shoulder blades, his chest solid against your back, arms curled protectively around you.

“Of course it does,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “You’re made to be filled. Look at you—can’t even move without clenching down.”

You whimpered when Phainon gave a slow roll of his hips, barely an inch, but it made your whole body jerk.

“Too sensitive,” you mumbled. “But… don’t stop…”

Your hands curled weakly in Phainon’s chest. You couldn’t hold yourself up—you were slumped across him, fully relying on both of them to keep you steady. And they did. One in front, one behind, cocks still buried, hands stroking your skin gently like they were calming you down after a storm.

Mydei nuzzled into your neck and tugged at one of your curls, wrapping it around his finger. “You gonna cry if we pull out?”

You gave a breathy little nod. “I’ll cry. I’ll scream.”

Phainon kissed the corner of your mouth. “Then we won’t.”

They stayed inside you.

Let you breathe. Let you melt. Let you keep them in deep, stretching your used-up holes, the heat of them still radiating into your overstimmed body. It wasn’t even about fucking anymore—you just needed to be kept full. You were addicted to the stretch, the closeness, the safety of it.

“You did so well,” Phainon whispered against your lips. “Took both of us like you were meant to.”

“Messy little brat,” Mydei added, a little teasing, but his voice was quiet now. “All full and pretty. Can’t even pretend to be tough anymore.”

“M’not a brat,” you mumbled into Phainon’s chest, totally out of it.

He smiled. “No. Not anymore.”

They rocked you slowly, kissing your cheeks, holding you in place. Their cum dripped out, but they didn’t let you go. You didn’t want them to. You just wanted to be kept like this.

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

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fallenbratfiction · 4 months ago

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does your mother know - pedro pascal x f!reader

A/N: You knew it was coming, i mean come on!! Also added some tweaks as I've been non stop watching The White Lotus so it's sort of an AU. Both you and Pedro happen to be at the white lotus. AAAAAAAA!!!! Honestly this went on for longer than I had planned but I loved how it ended!

Post that inspired this fic

warnings: girthy age gap (reader is early 20's and he is around 50),, eating out (f! Receiving) protected sex (wrap it before you tap it!) use of word daddy and baby, alcohol consumption, if I missed any warnings let me know!

do not copy, translate or claim any of my work as your own.

🔞minors dni, I don’t take responsibility for what you choose to consume.

I hope you enjoy this just as much as I enjoyed writing for y’all!

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The sun was just beginning its slow descent over the ocean, painting the sky in streaks of pink and gold. A warm breeze carried the scent of salt and sunscreen through the resort’s private beach, where guests lounged with cocktails in hand, the hum of music and laughter blending into the rolling waves.

The White Lotus was everything it promised—luxurious, indulgent, and filled with people who had far too much money and not enough problems. You were here with your mother who had little interest in where you went or who you were with, too preoccupied with spa treatments, resort gossip, and work. It made slipping away easy, effortless even.

And it made your latest interest all the more enticing.

Pedro.

He was here alone, lingering around the resort like he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be enjoying it or just enduring it. He didn’t seem to belong, yet somehow, he did—like an outsider who had mastered the art of observing the privileged up close. And he intrigued you.

You spotted him now, stretched out under a white beach umbrella, aviator sunglasses perched on his nose, an unread book resting on his stomach. The drink beside him was sweating more than he was, untouched, while he lazily observed the crowd.

Sliding your sunglasses down the bridge of your nose, you approached with an effortless sway, your bare feet sinking into the warm sand. "This seat taken?" Your voice was smooth, just a hint of playfulness lacing the edges.

Pedro tilted his head, barely moving, but you felt his gaze shift to you. He smirked, that slow, lazy kind of smirk that made something flutter in your stomach. "Looks like it is now."

You eased onto the lounger beside him, close but not too close, stretching out your sun-kissed legs. After a moment, you reached into your beach bag, pulling out a bottle of sunscreen. With an exaggerated sigh, you turned to him, holding it out. "Would you mind? It's such a hassle doing my back alone."

Pedro raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Is that so?"

You tilted your head, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. "Oh, don’t act so surprised. I’m sure you've done this before." You twisted slightly, exposing the smooth expanse of your back. "Besides, it’s a shame to let a burn ruin such a nice vacation."

Pedro exhaled, shaking his head, but he took the bottle nonetheless. "You're trouble, aren’t you?"

"Only if you want me to be."

He chuckled, squeezing the lotion into his palm before pressing his hands to your shoulders. His touch was firm, warm, and just slow enough to make you shiver. You hummed in approval, tilting your head slightly. "You’re good at this. Almost suspiciously so."

"Don’t overthink it," he muttered, working the sunscreen over your soft skin. "Or do you flirt with every man who helps you avoid sunburn?"

You twisted your head to glance at him over your shoulder, eyes glinting. "Only the ones worth my time." You let a few beats of silence linger, pretending to focus on the waves, but you knew he was watching.

"You’ve been here all week," you said eventually, glancing at him over the rim of your sunglasses. "I would’ve thought someone like you would have been snatched up by now."

He chuckled, deep and warm, finally sitting up. "Someone like me? And what’s that supposed to mean?"

"Mature. Brooding. Handsome." You listed the words off as if they were obvious, twirling a finger idly through your hair. "But I suppose you already know that."

Pedro huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "You think flattery works on an old man like me?"

"Oh, I think it works very well." You tilted your head, eyes glinting. "I mean, you haven’t told me to leave yet."

He exhaled through his nose, amused, lifting his drink to take a slow sip. "How old are you?"

You pursed your lips, considering. "Old enough to know what I want."

His brows lifted just slightly, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. "And what is it that you want?"

You reached for his sunglasses, slipping them off his face without permission. His eyes met yours—warm, dark, assessing. You hummed in approval.

"Wouldn’t you like to find out?" You leaned in slightly, watching the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed. "Or are you afraid you might like it too much?"

Pedro let out a long breath, shaking his head as he leaned back again, arms stretching over the back of his chair. "Does your mother know you flirt like this?"

You laughed, a rich, melodic sound, tossing his sunglasses back onto his lap before standing. "I’ll tell you what," you mused, running a finger along the rim of his abandoned drink. "Why don’t you come find me later? I’ll buy you one that isn’t watered down."

You turned before he could respond, knowing full well that his eyes were following you as you walked back toward the bar, hips swaying just enough to tease.

And, just as you expected, when you reached the bar, you heard the scrape of his chair against the wood of the deck.

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

Later that night, the resort shimmered under the glow of hanging lanterns and tiki torches, the open-air bar humming with soft music and drunken laughter. You were leaning against the bar, stirring the ice in your drink with a slow, deliberate motion, when you felt the presence before you saw him.

"You owe me a drink, remember?" Pedro’s voice was smooth, teasing, as he slid onto the stool beside you.

You smirked, lifting your glass in mock salute. "I always pay my debts. What are you having?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Surprise me."

You flagged down the bartender, ordering something strong but smooth, something that lingered. When the drink arrived, Pedro took a sip, eyes flicking to you in silent approval.

"You really don’t scare easy, do you?" he mused, tilting his head.

"Should I?" You propped your elbow on the bar, resting your chin in your hand. "Are you dangerous?"

He scoffed, shaking his head. "Not to you."

You leaned in slightly, his cologne mixing with the salt air. "Shame. I like a little danger."

Pedro exhaled a laugh, watching you with something unreadable in his gaze. "You keep playing like this, and you might get more than you bargained for."

"I’m counting on it."

The music shifted, something slow and sultry, and you reached for his hand before he could protest. "Dance with me."

He hesitated, just for a second, before exhaling through his nose, amused and defeated all at once. "You’re relentless."

"You have no idea."

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

The next morning, the resort’s breakfast terrace was bustling with early risers and those nursing hangovers from the previous night. You sat at a shaded table overlooking the water, sipping fresh orange juice when you spotted him.

Pedro was at the coffee station, brows furrowed as he poured himself a strong black coffee, clearly not a morning person. You smiled to yourself before calling out, "You look like you need something to wake you up."

He glanced up, weary yet amused. "Not all of us have your energy first thing in the morning."

You tilted your head, watching him as he approached your table. "Maybe you just need the right kind of breakfast."

He scoffed, setting his coffee down as he slid into the seat opposite yours. "Yeah? And what’s the ‘right kind’?"

You lifted a forkful of food from your plate, eyes glinting with mischief. "Well, I always go for something... satisfying. Something that keeps me full for a long time."

Pedro’s gaze darkened slightly, his fingers tightening around his mug. "That so?"

You hummed, pretending to consider. "Mmm-hmm. Like a good, thick sausage."

His jaw clenched, and you had to bite back a smirk. "You—"

"What?" You popped the bite into your mouth, chewing slowly, letting the silence stretch. "I just like my breakfast hearty."

Pedro exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "You’re gonna kill me, aren’t you?"

You leaned forward, lowering your voice just enough to be suggestive. "Depends. Do you want to go out with a bang?"

Pedro groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. "Jesus."

You simply grinned, sipping your juice like you hadn’t just wrecked his morning in the best way possible.

It wasn’t until later, when the sun had begun its slow descent and the air had turned thick with humidity, that he found you again. You were stepping into the elevator, still in your blue bikini from an afternoon at the pool, a thin cover-up doing little to conceal how the damp fabric clung to your skin.

Pedro hesitated for only a second before following you in.

The doors slid shut, trapping you in a space far too small and intimate for the heat simmering between the two of you. You glanced up at him, all bright eyes and knowing smirks, leaning against the railing as you tapped a manicured finger against your lip. "You look like a man with something on his mind."

He huffed out a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "You’re gonna get me in trouble, aren’t you?"

You tilted your head, stepping closer. "Would that be such a bad thing?"

His hand flexed at his side, jaw tightening as you reached out, trailing a single finger down the front of his shirt. "I don’t think you realize what you’re doing."

"Oh, I do." You pressed in just enough that he could feel the heat of your body against his. "I just think you’re afraid to admit how much you like it."

The elevator dinged, doors sliding open to an empty hallway. You stepped back, offering a coy smile before walking ahead, your bare feet silent against the plush carpet. Pedro exhaled through his nose, shaking his head before following your lead.

When you reached his door, you turned to face him, waiting as he hesitated. His fingers hovered over the keycard reader, his resolve hanging by a thread. "Tell me to stop," he muttered, more to himself than to you.

You didn’t. Instead, you leaned in, close enough that your breath ghosted over his jaw. "Pedro," you murmured, lips just barely brushing his skin. "Are you really going to leave me standing out here?"

With a quiet curse, he slid the keycard through the reader. The lock clicked open, and you grinned, stepping past him into the dimly lit room. He followed, letting the door shut behind you before finally, finally closing the distance.

Before you could make another teasing comment, Pedro caged you against the wall with his arms, his hands pulling yours above your head as his mouth crushed against yours. Every doubt, every hesitation about what they were doing or the trouble it might bring him, burned away the second he tasted you. You whined against his lips, and the sound sent something primal rushing through him.

He deepened the kiss, swallowing every gasp, every teasing remark you might have thrown at him. His grip on your wrists tightened, holding you there as his other hand slid down, gripping the curve of your hip. "This is what you wanted, isn’t it?" he muttered against your mouth, his voice rough, strained.

You arched into him, breathless, your smirk barely visible between kisses. "Took you long enough."

Pedro groaned, dropping his forehead to yours for just a second before lifting you off the ground, carrying you the short distance to his bed. The last thing he saw before pressing you into the mattress was your wicked little grin—the one that told him you had him exactly where you wanted him to be.

Pedro didn’t waste time. His lips found your neck, trailing heat down to your collarbone, his fingers already working at the thin straps of your bikini top. You sighed, arching into him, your hands threading through his hair as he moved lower, tasting salt on your skin.

Your fingers trailed down his torso, slow and teasing, brushing over the waistband of his pants. He sucked in a sharp breath, pausing just enough to glance up at you with a warning look. "Eager much?"

You only smirked, pressing your palm flat against his stomach. "You’ve been making me wait all day. I think I’ve been patient enough."

His laugh was dark, a rough chuckle against your skin before he kissed down the curve of your waist. "You’re trouble, you know that?"

"Mmm," you hummed, tilting your head. "And yet, you haven’t stopped me."

Pedro groaned, his grip tightening on your hips before he pulled you fully beneath him, his mouth finding yours again.

His lips trail down all the way to your bikini bottom before undoing the laces that rest on your sides. He tosses it somewhere in the room and you watch him with amusement as he parts your legs, immersing himself in your cunt.

"Fuck" he curses at the sight of your bareness before diving in, hungrily kissing your cunt. Your hand traveled down to his hair, tugging as you felt his tongue graze your clit, drawing circles on it, lapping and teasing your entrance.

"Oh god yes!" You whined as he ate you out, his tongue making its way deeper, licking all over the place and suckling on your clit and kissing it, causing you to roll your eyes with pleasure.

He doesn't seem to get enough from you and truly he could just be there all day eating you out but his cock was threatening and pulsing inside his shorts. It urged him to get inside you that instant.

His face separated from your glistening cunt, his mustache and beard covered in your arousal, a scent that would follow him for the rest of the day or even longer.

You tugged at his shirt, pulling him to you so you could kiss his mouth, taste yourself in his tongue in a filthy kiss while your hands worked to pull his shirt off.

He removed his shorts and threw them across the room, took his shirt from your hands and threw it aside on the bed. The both of you were now completely bare. Your eyes traveled his body and you licked your mouth. This is exactly what you had been hoping for all week and finally it was now in front of you.

He stood on his knees, pulling your legs up and apart. He opened a condom with his teeth and wrapped up before he tapped his cock on your entrance and watched as it went all the way in stretching you out, he let out a groan feeling your tight walls around him and he let out another curse.

"Fuck me Daddy" you whimpered,

"What's that now? Say it again"

"Fuck me Daddy" you repeated but he remained still inside of you. You tried to move your hips but his hands gripped your hips stopping you from any movement.

"You young people and manners" He tsked playfully teasing.

"Please! Fuck me Daddy, please!" you begged, and finally he moved. His thrusts were intense and your hiccuped moans only cheered him to go harder.

"You're doing so well baby" He groaned hitting your cervix repeatedly with every thrust, balls slapping against your ass as he buried himself deeper. "Taking this so well, being so good for Daddy"

Soon your walls tightened even more around him and he cheekily smiled, looking at you who were lost in lust, whimpering and moaning with every movement and the tense feeling growing in your core.

"Are you gonna cum for me, hmm baby? Gonna make a mess for me?"

"Yes Daddy, I'm so close!"

You whined nodding your head looking at him. He smiled amused and his hand moved from your hip to your clit, adding pressure to your beaming bud as you tensed even more. He watched you as your voice became louder and his other hand moved to cover your mouth so no one would call about disturbance noises.

Pedro wanted this moment to last forever, and he tried for the longest time to think of anything that crossed his mind other than you, your face or your voice. However soon stilled himself inside you, just as you arched your back, a scream muffled by his hand as you both came at the same time.

Pedro groaned, his grip tightening on your hips before he pulled you fully beneath him, his mouth finding yours again.

He caught himself before falling on top of you, not wanting to crush you, and rolled off, his chest rising and falling as he recovered his breath. You, however, were already on for another round. Before he could react, you moved swiftly, straddling him, your hands roaming over his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat beneath your palm.

He let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. "You trying to kill me, baby?"

You only smirked, dragging your nails lightly down his torso. "What, too much for you?"

Pedro exhaled through his nose, gripping your thighs. "You’re insatiable. Didn’t I just fuck your brain out?"

You leaned down, lips ghosting over his ear. "And yet, you’re still hard. Interesting."

He groaned, tilting his head back against the pillow. "You're going to be the death of me."

The room was quiet except for the distant murmur of the ocean and the slow, steady rhythm of their breathing. You lay sprawled against him, your fingers tracing idle patterns along his chest, his skin still warm beneath your touch. Pedro had one arm tucked behind his head, the other draped lazily over your back, his fingers grazing your spine.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then you hummed, pressing a slow, teasing kiss to his jaw. "Took you long enough."

Pedro let out a breathy chuckle, his fingers tightening slightly on your hip. "I should’ve known you wouldn’t let that go."

You propped yourself up on one elbow, watching him. His usual brooding expression was softened, his lips parted, eyes half-lidded as he looked up at you. But there was something else there—something quieter, more thoughtful.

"No regrets?" you asked, tilting your head, though there was a playful lilt to your voice like you already knew the answer.

Pedro exhaled through his nose, smirking faintly. "If I did, I wouldn’t still be here."

You grinned, dragging your fingers down his chest. "Good answer."

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head, but you could feel the weight behind it—like maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t something he could just brush off. Maybe you had gotten under his skin more than he wanted to admit.

You didn’t press. Not yet. Instead, you rolled onto your back beside him, sighing dramatically. "Guess I’ll have to figure out how to keep myself entertained tomorrow."

Pedro turned his head to look at you, amusement flickering in his eyes. "That supposed to be a hint?"

You smirked, stretching your arms above your head. "Just saying… it’d be a shame if this was a one-time thing."

He didn’t respond right away, but when he did, his voice was quieter, rougher. "Yeah. It would."

You felt something settle in your chest at that—not a promise, but not nothing either. You turned to him, met his gaze, and for a second, the playful teasing between you two gave way to something heavier, something unspoken.

Then, just as quickly, you smirked, breaking the moment. "You’re staring, Pascal."

Pedro let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "Go to sleep, troublemaker."

You grinned, snuggling deeper into the sheets. "Only if you stay."

He didn’t answer, but the way his arm tightened around you was enough.

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Hope you enjoyed your read! I'd love to hear what you think about it!

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#pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fics #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x f!reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal #iael writes #pedro pascal fandom #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro x reader

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moon-ttokki-x · 24 days ago

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Hii!! I absolutely adore your work, especially your 9th member stuff!

I was wondering if there was anyway to write an imagine where the reader is the second oldest hyung (younger than Chan but older than Minho) and acts like a mother figure occasionally. And her and Chan are super close (possibly secretly dating?) and the other members start to catch on during little moments during interviews and stuff like that.

Or even just short blurts/headcannons of something like “Chan and y/n being in love for 5 minutes straight.”

I totally get that this is a lot to ask, so if you want to tweak it that is completely up to you! You don’t even have to do this if you don’t want to. xx 🩵

hi thank you sm <3 this is cute. i liked the idea of doing a short headcanon sort of thing, so here . . .

"hyung, are you in love with y/n?"

pairing: bang chan x fem 9th member!reader

summary: chan can't hide how smitten he is, and skz begins to catch on . . .

genre: idol!au, 9th member!au, fem!reader i think, just pure fluff, maybe a little suggestive idk?? there's literally nothing else to write tbh this is just super short and sweet (like chan) who said that omg it wasn't me . . .

a/n: yep

skz masterlist

Smitten!Chan who can't help but stare at you during interviews; his gaze always drifts to you even when you're not the one talking. He tries so hard to pay attention, he really does, but he just can't help it; you look so pretty, with your makeup done and your hair styled so perfectly.

Smitten!Chan who can't stop a little smile from curling the corners of his mouth when you smile just at him; he covers it up with a hand, seemingly brushing something off his lip, but he knows it won't fool anyone. He's all lingering touches, on your lower back, your cheek, your hair when he pats it, your arms when he adjusts your position in the choreo.

Smitten!Chan whose hand stays just a little too long to be innocent or friendly. Has a little chain bracelet with your initial on it tucked down his forearm, unseen and covered by his long sleeves. Never takes it off, and you wear yours around your ankle, the tiny 'CB' almost invisible. You know, unless someone looks a little too close...

Smitten!Chan who steals kisses in the dressing room, fighting not to kiss you too hard, otherwise he'll ruin your perfect makeup. You have to push him off once you hear the members coming down the hallway, but it's a struggle when he wants to keep you in his arms. His hand brushes yours as you both walk down to the backstage area. He can't help but steal glances at you when he's motivating the members with his usual hype speech.

Smitten!Chan who has to fight the urge to kiss you in front of Stay. He wants the whole world to know so badly; but he knows you wouldn't be comfortable with that right now, so he holds back. Expect to be called to his room for a quick 'discussion'. Long story short, Jeongin walked in at the wrong time and saw you both in each other's arms, faces close to each other. Talk about traumatising.

Smitten!Chan who frantically waves his hands, shushing him, and quickly runs to clamp a hand over his mouth. You can't fight the giggles when Chan sits him down on the bed, trying to get him to keep quiet. Jeongin's accusatory glance is enough to make you let out a giggle, and enough for Chan to exasperatedly glance at you out of the corner of his eye.

Smitten!Chan who gives up and lets Jeongin-whisper rant at both of you, making frantic hand-gestures, trying to madly piece together how you both ended up as a couple. It doesn't take him long, but by then you're on the floor, wheezing. A slight smile escapes Chan's mouth and he raises his hands in defeat. He lifts a pinky to make Jeongin promise not to tell the other members, a stern look on his face, though you can tell part of him has given up on keeping you both secret.

Smitten!Chan who gasps and almost jumps out of his skin when the door flies open, the lock giving way, and the members tumble into the room in a heap. Minho stands behind them all with his phone filming, and there's a smirk on his face that clearly communicates 'this was my idea'. Chan slaps a palm over his forehead before the both of you are tackled to the floor by the maknaes.

Smitten!Chan who watches Minho's video later with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, cheeks tinging pink at the way you look, giggling and flushed and pretty. He has to turn the video off before tangling himself in the sheets, a grin spreading his face, the rustling of the bed and several excited squeaks the only sounds as a result of his cuteness-aggression.

Smitten!Chan who finally falls asleep with the video still playing, drifting off into sleep with the faint knowledge that he'll have to confront his members tomorrow. No doubt they'll be as loud and excitable as they were tonight, but at least it'll be easier with you by his side. The faint volume of the video's audio plays in the background, and Felix's excitable, disbelieving voice plays in a faint, muted loop in the stillness of the night.

"Hyung, are you in love with Y/n?"

a/n: chan and the colour red just go so well together 🔥

ttokki's taglist: @emilyywhyy @galaxy4489 @hyuneskkami @justsomekpopstuff @wavetohannie @strayingawayy @its-stayville-forever @sillyseob @wickedbutlovely @headfirstfortoro @lov3yv4mps @possum-playground @bear8585 @astraystayyh @m-325 @gnabnahcbby @mbioooo0000 @akindaflora @tsunderelino @hhwangsmoon @crazyforthatbangchandude @bluebellsringinghereandthere @ladylexis @tillaboo @geni-627 @jsngprk-vhs @stellasays45 @de-uns-tempos-pra-ca @luvvchn

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dadsbongos · 1 year ago

Text

5 times laios almost says he loves you + 1 time he does

2 k words / warnings - momentary lead up to smut (foreplay/roleplay), modern au w fantasy elements

summary - laios wants to tell you he loves you, but keeps getting interrupted.

~~~

When Laios was a kid, he'd imagined a tri-headed beast crossbred from reptiles, mammals, and birds attacking all his problems. Recently, that image has been… tweaked…

Now when he's afflicted by demeaning nightmares or stiff social situations, the power he summons to crush all which is dark sided is, surprisingly, a human.

A mere person.

His partner.

Every time you appear in his dream, Laios wakes up in a massively good mood. Whenever Laios pictures you over the unpleasant sight of strangers, he can suddenly bear unwelcome conversation. Whenever Laios so much as spots you, his whole day elevates -- swirling into something brighter and sweeter. Misery to melon juice, he’s absolute goo as soon as you’re in the room.

And everybody except him knows what his deal is. Similarly, they know it’ll take a miserably long while before he can spit it out.

the time where you’re naked

“I wanna learn human anatomy, can you pose nude for me?”

You choke on your water, trying to laugh off the awkward question with a couple chest-pats, “Can't you just look at porn for that stuff? I don't mind, you know?”

“Nah, I wanna draw you.”

“Oh! Uh, okay…” you cross the floor, drawing the curtains to your living room before stiffly beginning to disrobe, “Like… right now?”

“Mhm,” Laios nods excitedly.

“‘kay then.”

Sweat practically oozes down Laios’ forehead, shoulders knotted towards his jaw as he obsessively studies each roll and dip along your body. Trying to copy you down on sketch paper that’s now marred with charcoal and eraser strokes. Drawing has never been something Laios cared to prove himself for, he knows what he’s skilled with and doesn’t fret over what he isn’t. Until now, now he feels the utmost need to prove himself.

To prove how devoted he is to perfecting your body on paper because how else will his adoration be known?

Because trust: he does adore your body. So pretty. And tender. And so very welcoming to him, just like you. Laios adores your personality more than your body -- you’re nice and funny and understanding and, most importantly, you like him. You seriously like him. His rants about monsters, his social ineptitude, his shameless nature: you’re verily into all of it.

And, in turn, he’s into you. He’s so into you it makes him want to choke himself in excitement whenever you lock eyes.

He’s so into you he thinks he loves you.

Laios pauses mid stroke on your thigh: it’s a little skinnier than the fleshy counterpart. So he erases again and lets the realization fizz over him slowly.

He definitely loves you. Unfortunately the sudden thought makes him so emotional he’s tearing up.

the time you’re on a date

Flickering overhead fluorescents are hideously unflattering to customers and staff alike at the diner. Not you, though. Somehow you make them work, even though everytime Laios catches his reflection in a window he looks absolutely ghoulish. The pale wash of sickly light almost makes you seem like a varnished painting.

You’re not even aware of his obsessing, too busy scanning the menu, “I’m looking at the breakfast for dinner options, but I dunno what I want…”

Laios wants you, and he figures the best way to get it out is just saying it.

“I lo- !” he’s silenced by a woman cheerfully greeting the both of you.

Her broad grin tackles him like a personal slight.

“So, what can I get started for you guys?”

Laios swallows his frustration with a wash of chilled water, letting the rhythm of your voice soothe him. Now the mood is ruined. Too stuffy with this onlooker.

Oh, well, he sighs quietly before ordering his own dish; paying no mind to how the server silently questions his moody demeanor.

There’s always more chances.

the time where you’re naked pt. 2

When you’re genuinely asleep, your lashes consistently flutter against your cheeks with each jerk beneath your eyelids. Your lips are parted to let air puff between, and usually you’ll curl your arms towards your chest -- which Laios finds so cute it makes him want to bite you. Sweetly, of course. Not enough to draw blood, unless you say he can.

Either way, he’s fully aware you’re not really sleeping. Which he considers preferable since the secondary act of roleplay doesn’t work if you aren’t awake.

Suddenly, you roll onto your stomach and stretch along the bed -- perking your ass up with a faux drowsy mumble. Laios can register you’re trying to spur him on, a more emotional exhaustion gnawing your spirit the longer he goes without touching you.

Laios has never been able to fanatically explain Incubi mating before he met you (well: he skimmed through it with Kabru, but that didn’t feel impactful), and furthermore, he’s never been able to act it out. Nobody before you seemed the type to accept his interest in portraying a sleeping body about to be bred by an Incubus.

Nobody before you is even worth remembering, Laios steps forward with fingers trailing up the bed and teasing your ankle. Mouth opening, he’s gearing up to confess when suddenly a voice not his own breaks the scene first:

“Laios, please,” you mutter, pouting so adorably he feels like his chest is about to explode, “I don’t wanna be mean, but I need you to hurry it up.”

“Now we have to restart,” Laios steps back until he’s pressed against the bedroom door, “Okay, I’ll go faster this time,” then he grins, “That’ll be even more realistic if I rush in! You’re so smart!”

By the time Laios re-enters the room, his confliction of pure love has been stifled in favor of lust.

the time you’re out with friends

Earplugs are snug in Laios’ ears, cushy and pressing against every crevice of his ear, as he slouches into the booth across from Senshi. He’s sliding a mug of beer from hand-to-hand, leaving a condensation trail along the shiny veneer of the table. Beside him is a gaping hole he laments, belonging to you, as does the margarita saucer. Melting ice chips and an olive Laios promised to eat are the only remnants of your drink.

Otherwise, it all seems to be pumping through you like hot blood. A beaming grin alight on your face as you and Chilchuck bounce around each other on the dance floor. You’re holding hands in the cramped throng of guests so as to not lose each other, and Laios shocked Marcille by not getting the least bit jealous.

“I trust them,” he reasoned, “It’s not like I’m the only person allowed to touch their hands now.”

Not that he’d like to be, either. Laios thinks everyone should touch your hand at least once: it’s soft and warm and you’ve got the perfect grip strength. Just holding your hand makes Laios want to be a better, more upstanding citizen that votes and volunteers. That sort of inspiring spirit is something he couldn’t dream of caging.

You’re like a human morphine injection confounded with pure sunlight, and Laios is already a baked sucker.

“Don’t wanna join?” Senshi slides along the black leather seat until he’s squeezed out from their booth, “You won’t be so young forever, you know? Best to take advantage while you can.”

Laios can barely make out what his friend says, combining muffled gibberish with the shape his lips made and praying he’s assumed correct, “I like just watching them.”

Senshi’s gaze follows Laios’ pointing, he nods slowly and pitters off with another few mumbles.

Laios cannot handle anything outside the safety of your group’s booth. Music too loud and air too hot the further he crawls along the dance floor, so he leaves that to you. And Chilchuck. But mostly you.

Life has many opportunities for him to sway with you to music: in your shared apartment, at friends’ weddings, and fairs. He can handle not taking this particular once to dance with you, and besides just watching is enough.

He whispers affection into the club, naturally you catch none of what he says.

the time where you’re naked pt. 3

Your nails scratch over Laios’ scalp, rinsing bubbles from between sandy strands of hair. His head is tilted, neck beginning to ache from the angle as you finish scrubbing his hair clean. Fingers snatch him by the chin, forcing his head back until water is trailing down his spine and shaking out his head with finality.

“There,” you push onto your toes to kiss his cheek, making him hurry to stabilize you by snagging your hips, “All clean!”

“Thanks,” Laios fails to release you, instead letting you spin in his hands towards the wall for your body wash -- the brand he bought you for your birthday once and you always kept going back to.

“If you’re gonna keep groping me, wash my back, yeah?”

“I’m not groping,” Laios protests weakly, frowning at the perverse accusation. Though he doesn’t pause before uncapping your soap and squirting a heap into his palm, then yours when you hold your hand out expectantly.

You scale down your legs, from the inside of your thighs to your shins as Laios lathers your back. He shifts a step aside to let water coax soap foam down the curve of your spine. Then he’s stepping back entirely, eyes lingering inappropriately. If he was able to die staring at you, then he’d take that certainty in a heartbeat.

Now, right? Now is the perfect time for him to get it all out there. Nobody else is in your apartment. It's domestic and quiet and so, so peaceful.

“Hey,” he calls over the thrumming showerhead, and you hum sweetly in reply, “I lo- !” he bravely takes another step, a lost bar of soap slotting perfectly under the arch of his foot, “Fuck!”

“Huh?” you turn in time to gasp as Laios tumbles forward. Yanking down the shower curtain in a feeble attempt to catch himself before his skull thuds loudly against the tile wall, “Oh my God, Laios!”

His body collapses against the wall before limply sinking into the shallow tub. Your petrified face blurring out in favor of deep,

rich

black.

+1 - the time Laios had a head injury

“Can you see straight? How many fingers am I holding up?”

Laios smiles at your flagrant concern, enveloping your shaky hand with his own and bringing it toward his thigh -- still damp from the shower and barely covered by the boxers you hastily dressed him with, “I can see fine. Let’s leave the doctors to do the testing stuff.”

“I thought you were done for! I was so scared,” you don’t fare much better than Laios in the clothing department: shorts he knows are his wrapped around your waist, and shirts clinging uncomfortably to both your wet bodies.

“Aw,” he coos, leaning closer to peck your cheek, “I wouldn’t go down from a hit like that. My head’s a lot sturdier than some shower wall.”

“I know, but still! How terrifying, you just- !” you slap a hand against your thigh, “Boom!”

“Well, you got me to the hospital pretty fast,” Laios squeezes his hand around yours, “So even if I was dying -- which I wasn’t -- I definitely would’ve lived with how fast you were going.”

“I almost didn’t dress us, and then I spent the whole time you were asleep wondering if I got you killed by wasting the time.”

“Like I said, I wouldn’t die like that,” he shrugs, “I can’t die before I tell you I love you.”

“Huh?!”

“I love you, by the way,” he sighs, a hand splayed over his chest with apparent relief, “Now I can die.”

You laugh, head throwing back in glee before you can catch your breath, then patting his thigh with a smile, “No, you can’t die. Because I love you too, so you can’t just die on me.”

Laios’ cheeks flush, he nods curtly, “Cool.”

“Cool?”

“I spent so long trying to get it out that I never planned what to say when you told me you loved me back.”

Laios is so cute you want to bite him in half, and you’re unbelievably relieved to hear he feels the same.

#laios x reader #laios touden x reader #delicious in dungeon x reader #dungeon meshi x reader #laios touden fluff

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supi-wupi · 7 days ago

Text

Second Place - Joshua

pairing: Joshua x Reader

synopsis: You’ve loved him since day one, but he’s in love with someone else. As you help him write love letters to his crush, he unknowingly discovers your unsent letters—confessions hidden in plain sight.

wc: 4.3k

genre: Angst, Unspoken/unrequited love, second chance

warning: Emotional angst, Unsent letters and misunderstandings, Separation/abandonment, Mental health struggle mentions, Heartbreak, mentions of exhaustion and burnout, joshua crying on stage, members confused, grievinga/n: This can be considered an alternative ending to my work ‘Penpal’, which you don’t need to read before this, it just gives background context to the name ‘Shuji’.

The studio always smelled like burnt coffee and citrus-scented air freshener—two things Y/N constantly relied on to stay awake through 3 a.m. writing blocks and last-minute composition tweaks. It was her quiet place, her second home. And lately, the only space where she could love him in silence.

Joshua.

She'd been writing songs for the group since before they debuted. First as an intern, then as a contracted lyricist, now a ghostwriter whose name was never printed but whose words shaped half their discography. No one questioned it. And she preferred it that way.

Well. Mostly.

It was easier to hide in the credits when the person you loved was singing words you wrote for someone else.

“Y/N,” Joshua called softly from the doorway. “You got a minute?”

She turned, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. He wore a hoodie half-slipped off one shoulder and held a notebook in one hand like he wasn’t sure whether to offer it or clutch it to his chest.

“Yeah, of course.” Her voice was lighter than she felt.

He stepped inside, hesitating. “So… I wanted to ask you for help with something. Again.”

You always do, she thought. But she smiled. “Lyrics?”

Joshua nodded, his grin sheepish. “It’s stupid, probably, but I wanted to write something for… someone. You know. Just something personal. You’re better with words.”

She didn’t ask who. He didn’t offer the name. But it didn’t matter. She already knew.

It had been the same for months now—Joshua appearing with half-formed verses and flushed cheeks, shyly mumbling about how this girl made him feel something he couldn’t explain. And Y/N, like a fool, would spend nights bleeding her heart into lyrics she could never claim as her own.

“Do you have a melody?” she asked instead.

He hummed the beginning of something gentle, a chord progression she recognized from their last jam session. It would make a beautiful ballad. A confession song.

It would destroy her.

“Give me a few days,” she said, reaching for her pen.

He looked relieved. “Thank you. Really.”

“Always,” she whispered once he’d left.

—

She stayed long after the studio lights dimmed, laptop screen casting a dull glow across her face. The chorus came easy—hearts in hands, breathless hope, longing wrapped in soft vowels and sweet consonants. She knew his voice well enough to mold the words into something that would sit right in his mouth.

That was the problem.

Every word she wrote tasted like love.

Her own.

—

[Unsent Letter — Dated 12/09/2017]

Dear Shuji,

You smiled when you read the lyrics today. You said they felt real. That they captured exactly how you felt.

You don’t know they’re about you.

You don’t know that every time you describe her, I think of all the things I’ll never be.

But I keep writing, because it’s the only way I can love you without ruining everything.

Yours,

Nie

—

Joshua found the letter by accident.

A week later, rummaging through her desk while she grabbed them both dinner, he was looking for a spare cable when he noticed the envelope tucked inside a draft folder. It wasn’t labeled, but curiosity got the better of him.

He read it once.

Then twice.

The handwriting was hers. The paper was old, the fold lines soft with time. But there was no name. No context. Only the nickname: Shuji.

His heart skipped.

Only one person called him that.

When Y/N returned, he smiled like nothing had changed.

He didn’t ask.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Not yet.

—

Joshua started to notice little things.

The way Y/N stopped looking at him when she spoke. How she paused before answering, like measuring every word before it left her mouth. The ghost of a smile that used to be automatic now took its time showing up.

But she still helped him write songs. Love songs.

She always did.

—

The melody they settled on was soft and simple—just guitar, piano, and breath. Y/N filled the gaps with metaphors that made Joshua’s chest ache in a way he couldn’t explain. He didn’t ask where she pulled those images from: The way she laughs into her sleeve, like hiding joy makes it stronger. Or: I loved you like a secret—loud and unspoken.

He thought maybe he was finally finding the right words.

Even if they weren’t his.

“I’m thinking of giving it to her,” he said one night, when she handed him the final demo. “Just… directly. Not through a release or anything. Just me. And her. What do you think?”

Y/N swallowed. “I think… if it’s honest, she’ll hear you.”

She didn’t tell him the honesty was borrowed.

She didn’t tell him that the verses were carved from her own heart.

—

Later, after he left with a hopeful smile and a folded-up lyric sheet, Y/N sat back and stared at the empty chair across from her.

You really think she’ll hear you?She’s not even listening.

She reached for the drawer.

She shouldn't read the old letters again. But she always did.

Except… one was gone.

Her hands froze.

She counted them twice.

And it was definitely missing.

—

[Unsent Letter — Dated 04/11/2019]

Dear Shuji,

You asked me what falling in love feels like. I didn’t answer, but this is what I wanted to say:

It feels like watching your favorite song play out in front of you, knowing you can’t join in. Like standing in the audience when you know the harmonies by heart.

It feels like writing lyrics about someone who’ll never read them—and hoping they never do.

Because then maybe, you can keep pretending they were yours.

I don’t want to pretend anymore. But I will. For you.

Yours,

Nie

—

He found this one in a second notebook—one she left on the piano bench in the practice room. The edges were worn, the ink faded. It was dated years ago, before he even realized she was the one gluing their group’s emotions together behind the scenes.

The nicknames again. The handwriting again. That same ache in the words.

He didn’t confront her. Not yet.

Maybe she’d written these for someone else. Maybe it was just a coincidence.

Maybe he was starting to realize the truth and didn’t know what to do with it.

Still, he kept the letter folded in his bag.

Just in case.

—

Y/N noticed it first—the shift in how he looked at her.

Like he was watching her with a question on his lips he didn’t know how to ask.

But it didn’t matter. Not really.

Because the moment she saw him holding hands with the girl in the lobby—her—the one he’d been writing songs for… it all came crashing down anyway.

—

That night, Y/N didn’t cry.

She packed her laptop. Shut down the studio. Took the long train ride home. And when she got in, she did the one thing she swore she never would.

She started a new letter.

—

[Unsent Letter — Dated 07/02/2022]

Dear Shuji,

It’s not her fault. It’s not yours either. I should’ve said something years ago.

But I was always scared of being a burden you couldn’t put into a melody.

I was scared that if I told you I loved you, I’d lose the only part of you I was allowed to keep.

So I wrote you songs instead.

But you never heard me.

I think it’s time I stop writing.

I think it’s time I go.

Yours, almost.

—

She didn’t show up to practice the next morning.

Not in the studio. Not in the back room where she usually scribbled lyrics on her tablet with earbuds in, mouthing melodies no one else could hear.

Joshua didn’t panic right away.

Y/N had always been consistent, but not rigid. She sometimes needed air—walks at night, weekend disappearances for inspiration, quiet hours with her thoughts and no one else's noise.

But when she didn’t answer his texts by lunch—and her shared drive folder remained untouched, with nothing new since the demo he’d used for the girl—something in him shifted.

He told himself she’d be back.

She wasn’t.

Three days passed.

Then four.

When Seungkwan asked if she was sick, Joshua just said, “She’s taking a break.” It sounded better than I don’t know where she is, or maybe I’m the reason she left.

Because now, with every quiet hour that passed, the letters began making more sense.

He re-read them at night. Alone. In bed. Memorizing the curves of her handwriting like he used to memorize chord changes.

She hadn’t signed her name.

But it didn’t matter.

The letters weren’t a puzzle anymore.

They were a mirror—and he had never bothered to look into it.

—

[Unsent Letter — Dated 08/13/2021]

Dear Shuji,

They always say to write what you know.

But how do I write this? This knowing. This silence.

I know your favorite coffee order. The tempo your foot taps when you’re anxious. The way your shoulders tighten before you laugh. I know you want her. I know I’m not her.

But I still write you love songs like I’ve been asked to.

Like you’re not breaking me every time you sing them.

I love you so much it hurts. And I hate myself for it.

Yours,

Nie

—

He found that one in an old shared lyric book—one they used to keep between the two of them, back when they were still experimenting with writing as a duo.

It had fallen behind her desk. Tucked into the middle like a secret.

The page before it had a scratch melody he remembered vaguely. A soft ballad. It had made him tear up the first time he heard it.

He thought it was because it sounded like longing.

He hadn’t realized it was.

—

He messaged her again.

[11:03 PM] You wrote those letters, didn’t you? Why didn’t you say anything?

No reply.

[11:47 PM] Was I really that blind? Please talk to me.

Still nothing.

The next morning, he got an email.

—

Subject: For the Team From: [Y/N] To: [SEVENTEEN Staff + Members] Time: 5:26 PM

Hi everyone,

I’m officially stepping away from the group’s lyricist role to pursue something quieter. This decision wasn’t made lightly, and I’ll always be grateful for the years we spent creating together.

Please take care of yourselves.

With love, Y/N

—

The air left his lungs like a silent apology.

The rest of the team read the message with wide eyes and murmurs of she didn’t say anything. But Joshua said nothing.

Because he’d known.

Maybe not in time.

But he knew now.

And it felt like losing a song before he ever got to sing it.

He went back to the studio that night, even though the others had left. Just in case she'd left something else behind.

She had.

In the pencil drawer was one last envelope. No name. No date. Just folded paper, waiting like a confession.

His hands shook when he opened it.

—

[Unsent Letter — Undated]

Shuji,

I hope you don’t hate me.

I hope when you find these, if you find these, it’s because some part of you wondered.

Some part of you looked at me and thought, maybe.

If not… then at least now you know.

I wrote every song for you. Even the ones you asked me to write about her.

I loved you when you didn’t see me.

I loved you when you looked right through me to find her face.

But I loved you.

And I’ll keep loving you… just not here.

Yours, once.

—

He sat there for a long time.

Letter in hand. Empty studio. No background melody. No voice humming beside him.

Just silence.

And for the first time since debut, Joshua Hong had no words.

Joshua stared at the unsent letter in his hands like it held the answer to everything he’d missed.

“I wrote every song for you. Even the ones you asked me to write about her.”

His chest tightened at the words. Every song—every lyric—was a confession he’d been too blind to hear.

The studio felt emptier than ever, the echoes of her absence ringing louder than the microphones ever could.

He couldn’t let this be the last note.

—

The next day, Joshua sat alone in the practice room after everyone left, opening a fresh blank page on his tablet. His fingers hovered, unsure. He hadn’t written a lyric for weeks—not since Y/N left.

But this time, it wasn’t for anyone else.

It was for her.

—

[Joshua’s Letter — Draft]

Dear Y/N,

I didn’t know. I didn’t see the signs, the quiet tears hidden behind your melodies.

I was so focused on who you weren’t, I missed the person who loved me all along.

I’m sorry for the silence, for the songs you had to write alone.

If you’re listening somewhere out there, know this—

I’m trying to find my own words now. For you.

—

He saved it, but didn’t send it. Not yet.

In the following days, he found pieces of her everywhere: a coffee cup on the corner of the studio desk, a half-finished notebook of lyrics, a familiar scent in the hallway air.

Each small thing a reminder.

And a question.

Why didn’t she stay to tell him?

He asked the members, careful with his words, hoping someone had heard from her.

They all shook their heads.

“She’s busy, probably taking time for herself,” Woozi offered quietly.

But Joshua knew better.

—

That night, his phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number.

“Shuji, it’s me. I’m sorry I left like that. I needed space, but I’m not gone forever.”

His heart pounded.

Could it be?

—

Joshua stared at the message, his thumb hovering over the keyboard.

Four simple words that stirred a thousand questions—and a hope he hadn’t dared to feel in months.

He typed back slowly, carefully.

“Where are you?”

Hours passed with no reply. The silence stretched, heavy and uncertain.

—

The next morning, a new message came:

“I’m still figuring things out. But I want you to know I’m okay. Maybe we can talk soon?”

Joshua exhaled, a mixture of relief and nervous anticipation flooding him.

—

He sat by the window, guitar resting in his lap, eyes tracing the skyline of Seoul as if searching for her in the distance.

The songs he once wrote for her now felt like letters waiting to be opened—pieces of his heart scattered across melodies and unsent words.

He knew the road ahead wouldn’t be easy. There were wounds to heal, misunderstandings to unravel, and time to reclaim.

But for the first time in a long while, Joshua felt a quiet promise flicker inside him—

A promise to try.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to start.

—

Aftermath

Joshua never thought he’d be standing there, in front of the world, with his heart laid bare.

The moment was etched in everyone's memory—the moment when, on stage, under the bright lights, his voice cracked with emotion and his eyes glistened with unshed tears. He apologized, not for the crowd, not for his fans, but for you. The promise he had broken. The way he had walked away from you, from everything, without a word.

The silence after the apology was deafening.

Everyone wanted to know the truth. What did it mean? What did he mean by it?

You knew. And that was the problem.

In the days that followed, the weight of what had happened didn’t lighten. Instead, it became heavier, suffocating in its own right. Joshua’s apology had echoed across stages, but you were still the one who had to live with the silence.

—

It wasn’t long before he started looking for answers in the wrong places. In places that were never meant to be discovered. You had hoped—no, you had expected—this day would come. You had written so many letters to him over the years, carefully pouring your heart into words that never saw the light of day. Letters meant only for him, but never sent, because to send them would have meant losing him entirely.

And now, they were all he had left.

He hadn’t meant to find them. He hadn’t meant to see the words you had written, the confessions buried in the folds of old notebooks and drafts. But now, he had them. All of them. The letters, the songs, the pain you’d tried so hard to hide.

—

Joshua had been spending every waking hour in the studio, lost in the music that was no longer his alone. The songs, the melodies, everything now felt tainted with the truth he had ignored for so long.

"Shuji, I'm sorry," his fingers hovered over his tablet screen. "I didn't see it. I didn't see you. I was too blind to realize."

It was a draft, but it was a start.

But even as the words took form on the screen, they felt like they were coming too late.

And then came the message.

The silence had been unbearable, and in the silence, you had left.

—

You hadn’t told him. You hadn't told anyone. You'd just slipped away. Packed up the parts of yourself you had given so freely, and left. You were no longer the invisible force behind the songs. You weren’t the lyricist, the ghostwriter—just a woman who had loved him too much to stay.

Your decision wasn’t easy. But it was necessary. The love you’d hidden for so long had taken everything from you, and you couldn’t afford to keep giving pieces of yourself away when he never once saw them.

Your last message to him was simple. A quiet goodbye in the only way you knew how.

"I’m still figuring things out," the words came, hesitant and soft. "But I want you to know I’m okay. Maybe we can talk soon?"

—

Joshua held his breath as he read your message. It wasn’t the answer he had been hoping for, but it was something. A sliver of hope. He stared at the screen, the weight of the words pressing against his chest.

"Where are you?"

The response came slowly. Hours passed before he finally got an answer.

“I'm okay. I'm not gone forever. But I need time. We need time.”

His heart ached.

Time. It was all he had left now. Time to undo the damage. Time to finally listen to the words you had been whispering for years.

Joshua didn’t know how to fix things. He didn’t know where to start. But he knew one thing—he couldn’t let the silence swallow everything.

As the days stretched on, Joshua found himself writing songs again. Not for the group. Not for anyone else. Just for you. They were the songs you had written for him, once. The lyrics you had poured into every melody, every note, every verse.

He had missed it. He had missed you.

And maybe, just maybe, this time he wouldn’t be too blind to see.

He hit send.

"Y/N... I’m sorry. I know I can’t fix everything. But I’ll spend every day trying to."

The message was simple. But the promise was everything.

And for the first time in months, the silence felt a little less heavy.

—

Joshua stared at his phone screen, his thumb hovering above the send button, unsure if the words would be enough. Would they ever be enough?

He thought back to the letters. The confessions you had written, the ones you had never shared. Your words were so raw, so beautiful, and yet he had failed to see them for what they were. The melodies, the lyrics—they had always been pieces of your heart, pieces of you, woven into songs for him that he had accepted without ever questioning.

But now, now that it was too late, all he could feel was the weight of every moment he had missed, every opportunity he had wasted.

He had heard the lyrics, but he hadn’t listened. He had felt the melodies, but he hadn’t understood. All of it had been a confession—an open secret—but he had been too blinded by his own self-doubt, too focused on the girl he thought he was meant to be with, to see you—the one who had been there all along.

The truth was a bitter pill, one he had swallowed too late.

—

It was a few weeks before he saw you again, and even then, it wasn’t how he imagined it would be. There were no grand gestures. No reunion at the studio or a dramatic confession at a concert.

It was just a text.

"Meet me at the café?" It was you, as simple as always. But this time, Joshua wasn’t sure how to feel. His hands shook as he read the message again, each word a reminder of everything that had led him here.

"Of course," he replied.

It was the first step. A small one, but the only one he could take.

—

The café was quiet when he arrived, the usual hum of conversation muffled by the early hour. He spotted you right away, sitting by the window, a cup of coffee in front of you, your fingers tracing the rim of the mug absentmindedly. You weren’t looking at your phone. You weren’t avoiding him either. You were just... there.

For a moment, Joshua froze, unsure of how to approach you. He had rehearsed a hundred apologies, a thousand explanations, but in the end, none of them felt right.

What could he say? "I'm sorry" felt so small in comparison to everything that had happened between you two. And yet, it was the only word that seemed to keep coming back.

You noticed him standing by the door, hesitating, and for the first time, you gave him a soft smile. It wasn’t the warm, easy smile you used to share, but it was something. Something that made his chest tighten.

“Joshua.” Your voice was soft, almost like you weren’t sure how to address him anymore. You had been so used to calling him Shuji, to speaking to him as someone who knew your every thought, every word. But now… now there was distance. The kind that couldn’t be crossed with a simple smile.

He walked over slowly, sitting across from you. The silence that hung between you felt thick, heavy, like something unsaid that both of you were too scared to voice.

"How are you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You looked at him, your eyes tired, but there was something else there too—something he couldn’t quite name. “I’m doing okay. A lot of changes… but I’m alright.”

You avoided his gaze for a moment, your fingers curling around the handle of the coffee cup, as if it were the only thing anchoring you to the present. Joshua's heart skipped. It wasn’t the answer he wanted. It wasn’t the answer he needed. He needed you to say that you were okay because of him, that he had fixed something, made up for everything he had done. But the truth was that you had already made up your mind long before this conversation.

He didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he just sat there, watching you, trying to gather the words that had been locked inside him for months.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, the words coming out in a rush. "I didn’t see it. I didn’t see you."

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, and for a brief moment, there was something in your gaze that he didn’t expect—something like understanding. But it was fleeting.

“I know you didn’t,” you replied quietly. “But I couldn’t keep waiting for you to see me.”

Joshua’s heart clenched at your words. The air between you was thick with everything unspoken, everything that had been left unsaid. The letters. The songs. The moments that had never been shared. It was too much, and yet, it was nothing compared to what he had lost.

"I was a fool," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "I was so caught up in everything else, I never took the time to see what was right in front of me. I—"

“No,” you cut him off, your eyes soft, but firm. “You weren’t a fool, Joshua. You were just... lost. So was I. But I can’t keep pretending like I wasn’t waiting for something that would never come.”

Joshua swallowed hard, the knot in his throat threatening to choke him. "What do we do now?" he asked, voice rough.

You sat back in your chair, your gaze thoughtful, distant almost. “I don’t know. Maybe we take things one step at a time. But I’m not here to be your second choice. I need to find my own way now, too.”

The words stung, more than anything he had heard before. But there was truth in them. And that truth was something Joshua wasn’t ready to face. Yet he knew it was the only way forward.

“Then... I’ll wait,” he said, his voice steady despite the storm inside him. “If you want me to. I’ll wait. Because I owe you that much.”

You didn’t say anything for a while. But when you finally spoke, it wasn’t to shut him down. It was a quiet agreement, a fragile understanding that neither of you was quite ready to step into each other's lives again, not yet. But maybe, just maybe, there would be a way forward.

“Okay,” you said, your voice small but resolute. “Maybe we’ll figure it out someday.”

Joshua nodded, the silence between you two more comfortable now, not full of things left unsaid, but things left to be discovered.

For the first time in a long while, he felt like he might be on the right path. Even if it wasn’t clear yet, even if it took time, he knew he wasn’t walking it alone.

masterlist ♪

#₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ supi ₊˚੭ #₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ supi writes ₊˚੭ #svthub #seventeen #seventeen angst #joshua hong #joshua x reader #svt #kpop

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yvesssssssss · 3 months ago

Note

Hellooo! How are you doing? I saw you're writing not only for Sakamoto days so I came with a request of some kind of rivals to lovers trope with Hoshina of kaiju nro 8 :p take your time and don't forget to drink water and take care of yourself! :D

-M🦝

Stay Out of My Way (Or Don’t)

Sorry for the delay—I kept going back and tweaking little things. I hope you like it!

don’t forget to take care of yourself and drink some water too!(⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

You didn’t hate Hoshina. Not technically.

You just hated that every time you went for the kill, he got there first.

Every mission. Every training match. Every evaluation. Even during casual drills, he had this insufferable way of smirking at you like he’d read your every move ten seconds before you made it.

He was faster. Smarter. Sharper.

And worst of all?

He knew it.

So when you and Hoshina got paired up for a remote sweep of a kaiju nest in the outskirts of a ruined industrial zone, you asked Kikoru if you could trade partners. She said no. Kikoru, with her usual no-nonsense glare, told you to “suck it up” and “maybe try not to let him get under your skin for once.”

“Easier said than done,” you muttered as Hoshina fell into step beside you, blades strapped to his back and confidence practically dripping from his posture.

He shot you a glance. “Y’look like someone just spat in your coffee.”

“I would’ve preferred that to working with you.”

“Ouch.” He grinned. “You wound me.”

You ignored him. Focused on the rubble. On your HUD. On anything but the way his laugh made your chest feel weird.

The ruined complex was silent except for the soft crunch of debris beneath your boots. You scanned the area with a focused gaze, tracking residual kaiju energy readings.

“So,” Hoshina said after a long beat of silence, “you been practicing that reverse slash I beat you with last week?”

Your jaw tightened. “You didn’t beat me.”

He raised a brow. “I disarmed you.”

“I tripped.”

He chuckled. “Sure. On my sword.”

“I tripped, Hoshina.”

“You keep tellin’ yourself that.”

You whirled around to face him. “You really think you’re better than me?”

His smile faded slightly, gaze sharpening. “Nah,” he said, voice low. “I know I’m better than you. But the real question is, why do you let it bother you so much?”

Your blood simmered. He said it so casually. Like it didn’t matter that every time you worked yourself to the bone, he still managed to be half a step ahead.

Before you could respond, your comm crackled.

“Unit 2, unknown lifeform approaching from underground. Prepare for emergence.”

You both spun around, weapons out. The ground beneath you shook. Cracks spiderwebbed through the concrete.

“Move!” Hoshina barked, grabbing your arm just as the ground exploded.

A kaiju burst from beneath, all sinew and stone, maw wide and glowing. It roared, sending debris flying, and you stumbled—but recovered quick. You launched at it without hesitation, blades flashing. Hoshina was right beside you, his movements fluid and instinctive.

You sliced through its shoulder. He went for its eyes. The thing howled, slamming a massive arm into the ground between you, separating your paths.

“Split it!” Hoshina yelled.

You nodded, circling left as he went right. Your boots kicked up dust and broken metal. The kaiju swung wildly—slower than most. You saw your opening and lunged—

—but Hoshina got there first, burying his blade into its neck.

Of course he did.

You cursed under your breath and adjusted your attack, slicing through its leg tendons. It screeched and collapsed, giving Hoshina the chance to finish it with a clean slash to the core.

The kaiju slumped, twitching once before going still.

You exhaled sharply, wiping sweat from your brow.

“Good teamwork,” he said, not even winded.

You glared at him. “I had it.”

“Sure.” He shot you a teasing smirk. “You did great. You softened it up for me.”

You wanted to punch him.

Instead, you sheathed your weapon and turned to leave. “I’m going to check for residuals.”

But he caught your arm. Not roughly—just enough to stop you.

You froze.

“Why do you hate me so much?” he asked, softer now. Genuinely curious.

“I don’t hate you.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

You pulled your arm free. “You don’t get it.”

“Then explain it.”

You turned to face him fully. “You’re always ahead. Always better. No matter how hard I train, how much I push myself—I’m still just the person standing in your shadow. You don’t even have to try.”

Hoshina blinked. For once, he didn’t smile. “You think I don’t try?”

You scoffed. “Please. You’re the golden boy. Kikoru adores you. Even Kafka looks up to you.”

His brows furrowed. “Y/N… I train every damn day. I’ve bled for this squad. You think I don’t feel pressure? That I don’t have expectations crushing me every time I step on the battlefield?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it again.

“I push myself because I’m scared,” he said quietly. “Scared that if I slack off even once, I’ll lose someone. I act cocky because if I don’t, the fear’ll eat me alive.”

He looked at you then—really looked. “But you… You keep up with me. You challenge me. That’s not being in my shadow. That’s standing right beside me.”

The silence between you stretched long.

“…You still talk too much,” you muttered, heart pounding.

His lips quirked. “You’re blushing.”

“Am not.”

“Totally are.”

“I will punch you.”

“You’d miss.”

You stepped in close. He didn’t flinch.

“You’re insufferable,” you said, voice low.

“And yet you keep lookin’ at me like that.”

You hated that he was right.

You hated that your pulse jumped every time he said your name like it meant something.

You hated—really hated—that you were starting to like him.

“…If I kissed you, would you stab me?” he asked suddenly.

Your breath caught.

“…Depends. Would it be good?”

He laughed—and then he did kiss you. Fast, confident, and stupidly smug.

You kissed him back, just to shut him up.

(And maybe because you wanted to. A little.)

When you pulled away, he was smiling.

“Still rivals?” he asked.

You poked his chest. “Still gonna try and beat you.”

He leaned in, forehead resting against yours. “Good. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

#kaiju #kaiju no. 8 #soshiro hoshina #hoshina soshiro x reader #hoshina soshiro #vice captain hoshina #kn8 hoshina

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serejae · 11 months ago

Text

I CAN TRY BUT I CANT HIDE IT FROM YOU | J.WW

introvert wonwoo bf thoughts

for my wonwoo babies :), sorry for inactivity school started 😢

mentions of dress to impress 😏

even though wonwoo isnt good at cooking hes always making your lunches. HE HAS THOSE LUNCHABLES ON DECK. and trust hes snacking up your lunch box

^he never forgets to put a toothpick in there for you just incase (as someone with braces this makes my stomach have butterflies)

i believe he secretly had made a sims family of you and him with 2 kids and 3 pets. he even spent time making your dream home

speaking of gaming, i know whenever you both play scary games, hes always going first and risk his characters life to save yours. if you both were running from the monster hes behind you making sure youre is safe first

wonwoo doesnt care if seungcheol or jeonghan constantly clown him but he always WILL play dress to impress with you. he always votes your outfit 5 stars even if youre completely off theme or have only shoes and hair on

if you get hate on your outfit in the chat he doesnt defend you in the chat because hes just introvert. but, he will spam report the person until theyre kicked or banned

wonwoo is the type to always agree to you “the restaurant is an hour away baby…ROAD TRIP THEN!”, he always listens to your rants even if its the most randomest or boring thing he will stare at you with heart eyes as you speak and agree “yeah i cant believe she’d do that…”

adding onto the last one he will throw you under the bus to get out of situations. (i love introverts) he didnt wanna go to the after party? “sorry my partner just called, i gotta get home” or the “my partner said no, sorry” yes, you tweak a bit because what if your reputation is ruined but you know he’lll keep using it as an excuse T-T

he’ll do all the tiktok trends you want, you wanna kiss all over his face? YES! you wanna wanna do a small tiktok dance? YES! you wanna do a couple fit check with your matching outfits and creeper keychains? YES! and trust, while hes doing the tiktok dances he has a big smile on his face that make his glasses go up from his big cheeks whike smiling. and please. hes reposting it on all his apps.

in real life he already barely post selfies, but if you were his partner his social media is a you fan account, his profile picture is you, all his highlights covers are you and full of you, his post are all you, and his bio has you tagged

he BEGS you to match usernames in games and on discord like even if you dont play or use the app he’ll still keep it

LIKE PLSSLSLSL IMAGINE IT FOR ME

“ilovethemsomuch” is typing…

“canheleavemealone” sent you one notification

if hes a idol in this universe, he’ll go crazy on stage using his deep voice (we know…lalali…) then as soon as he sees you backstage hes running to hug you while bringing you guys to a corner to be alone as he mumbles sweet words “missed you baby” “lets go home and cuddle?” “im so lucky to have you”

hes the small spoon, he loves being big spoon but at night after all the protecting hes done for you, he just needs a little recharge with laying ontop of you while he hides his face in your neck as you run your hands through his hair

man is the definition of gentle love. cannot convice me other wise

in arguments, never argues back. just sits there allows you to speak, yell, get everything out your system and pays attention to you speaking so he can see what he needs to reassure, clear, and tell you

in big dinner parties, whether in a restaurant or house hes always sitting by you. in these big settings he never wants to leave your side, he holds your hand and plays with the promise ring he had gotten you

wonwoo loves it when you take off his glasses. he sometimes pretends to sleep so you can take off his glasses and kiss nose. you never told him but you slowly figured out when his cheeks redden each time

babe hes so obsessed with you. has your picture as his gaming pc lockscreen, homescreen, and even google screen. his password on everything is your birthday and if the members figure that out its your anniversary, and if they figure that one out, its the first time you two kissed

has your initials made with little gemstones of your favorite color on the side of his headphones and controller

has a polariod picture of you on his monitor, and on his desk

loves being the underdressed boyfriend when necessary. of course wont be underdressed all the time but he has his moments when youre shining and hes just…there…….(he loves you being the spotlight)

also loves it when you order for him, dont get him wrong, he’ll order for you no hesitation but sometimes his social battery runs low……

wonwoo i need

#serejae #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen #svt #svt x reader #svt fluff #svt angst #svt imagines #wonwoo x y/n #wonwoo x you #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo #svt wonwoo #seventeen wonwoo #Spotify

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fangirlfuel · 3 months ago

Text

Quiet With You

---

The hum of the city below was muffled by the thick hotel windows, but you could still make out the occasional honk, the distant purr of supercars speeding through the streets, and the never-ending buzz of Singapore nightlife. Lights danced across the skyline, golden reflections flickering across the walls of the penthouse suite.

You sat cross-legged on the bed, dressed in one of George’s black Mercedes tees, the hem brushing the tops of your thighs. You were scrolling aimlessly through your phone, but your thoughts kept drifting to him—George.

He had disappeared into the bathroom twenty minutes ago, muttering something about needing a shower to shake off the day.

You could tell the day had been hard on him, even if he didn’t say it out loud.

The missed pole position. The car tweaks that hadn’t worked out. The pressure. The media questions. The constant expectation to smile, be polite, and carry the weight of a team on his back.

It was his job. His dream.

But sometimes… it was heavy.

And sometimes, he just needed to be held in a quiet room by someone who saw George—not the driver, not the face on screens or posters—but him.

The sound of the bathroom door opening drew your attention, and your gaze snapped upward.

There he was—hair damp, curls clinging to his forehead, towel slung low on his hips. His tall frame moved slowly, his expression unreadable.

“You okay?” you asked softly, voice cutting through the silence like a whisper in the dark.

He nodded, but it was too quick. Too automatic.

You closed your phone and set it aside.

George crossed the room, dropped the towel on a nearby chair, and pulled on a pair of black joggers before walking toward you. The overhead lights made his skin glow, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything—just stood there, gazing at you like he wasn’t sure where to begin.

“C’mere,” you said gently, scooting over on the bed and holding your arms open.

Without a word, he slipped beneath the covers, pressing his chest against your back and wrapping both arms around you tightly. You felt the weight of him then—physically, emotionally. He buried his face in your neck and let out a long, quiet exhale.

You stroked his arm, your fingers drawing soft patterns across his skin. “Tough day?”

He didn’t answer at first. Just held you tighter.

Then: “Yeah.”

The word was strained, broken.

You turned in his arms to face him, your nose brushing his. He looked tired—more than just physically. His eyes were distant, jaw tight.

“I couldn’t get the setup right today,” he finally said, voice hoarse. “The rear felt floaty, and no matter how much we adjusted, it still didn’t give me confidence. Then I over-drove into Turn 7 during the final run. Locked up. Ruined my lap.”

“You’re allowed to have bad days,” you said gently, reaching up to push a damp curl off his forehead. “Even superheroes get tired.”

“I can’t afford to have bad days. Not at this level.”

“You’re not a machine, George.”

“No, but sometimes I feel like I’m supposed to be.” His jaw flexed. “It’s just—every time I’m close, something slips. And I’m left wondering if I’m ever going to get it right.”

You could hear the frustration in his voice, the self-doubt eating at the edges. He was always so composed in front of everyone else. Calm. Polite. The gentleman racer.

But with you, he let the cracks show.

And God, your heart ached for him.

“You don’t have to prove anything to me,” you whispered. “Or to anyone, really. You’ve already shown the world who you are. Let them talk. Let them compare. At the end of the day, you’re still the one out there risking everything.”

He looked down, eyes on the space between your bodies. His hand found your waist, warm and familiar. “It’s like I’m chasing something I can’t quite touch.”

You leaned in and pressed a slow kiss to his chest, right over his heart. “Then let yourself stop chasing—just for tonight. Be here with me.”

His eyes lifted to meet yours, something softening in them.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured.

You shook your head. “You deserve more than I can ever give.”

His hand slid up your back, tracing your spine. “You give me peace. That’s more than anyone ever has.”

The room went quiet again, wrapped in that rare stillness that only came with being truly seen. You shifted to straddle his lap, your legs bracketing his hips, and George’s hands instinctively rested on your thighs.

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his.

“Tomorrow, you’ll wake up and fight again,” you whispered. “But tonight, let me take care of you.”

He didn’t argue. Just nodded.

You kissed him then—slow and deep. Not rushed, not demanding. Just two souls needing one another in a world that never stopped spinning.

George’s hands slid up beneath the hem of his shirt you wore, palms skimming along your back, grounding himself with the feel of you. You felt him melt into it, like your touch was the only thing keeping him anchored.

“I wish we had more nights like this,” he said against your lips. “Just us. No schedule. No expectations.”

“One day,” you promised, brushing your nose against his. “Until then, I’ll steal every quiet moment I can.”

He smiled, finally—a soft, genuine smile that made your chest tighten with love.

“I don’t say it enough,” he murmured. “But I love you. More than I ever thought possible.”

Your breath caught, though you'd heard him say those words before, it always felt like the first time.

You kissed him again, your hand cradling the back of his neck. “I love you too. Every version of you. Even the frustrated, tired one with messy hair.”

He chuckled, pulling you even closer.

You stayed like that for a long while—wrapped around each other, tangled limbs and shared breath. The outside world faded, replaced by the sound of your hearts beating in tandem.

Eventually, George shifted beneath you, laying back against the pillows and pulling you with him, your cheek resting against his chest.

“Stay here,” he said quietly. “Even when the world gets loud again.”

“I will,” you whispered. “Always.”

And as the city lights flickered against the windows, casting golden halos across the room, you both fell asleep—not as a driver and his escape, not as two people defined by the demands of the world—but simply as George and the one he loved.

---

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freedomfireflies · 2 years ago

Text

Yellow*

Summary: An extra for One for the Money*

The one where you have to use your safeword with Mr. Styles and you worry it'll ruin everything.

Word Count: 3.4k

(TW: Panic attack and mentions of panic attacks)

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

“Just like that…shit, just like that, Peach. So fucking good. Can feel you, honey. Fucking feel you—”

Mr. Styles’ hand intertwines with yours before he brings them both to your stomach. Pressing your palm taut to the flesh until you can feel the subtle bulge from his cock. Thrusting into you so deep, your eyes roll all the way back into your head.

He’s been at it for hours. Showing off for the camera, allowing them to see him at his most powerful. And you at your most vulnerable.

You’re used to it by now. More than used to it, and on any given day, you thrive off it. You indulge in his prowess, his intentions. More than willing to be flaunted in front of the large audience of onlookers as he takes you anyway he wants you.

So you’re not sure why today feels different. Why the weight on your chest is heavier than it usually is. Why his hands – while always kind, always comforting – feel like tools in a game of your misery.

You don’t want to stop him. Don’t want to scare him or upset him. You know the moment you utter the words, the dynamic will shift instantaneously. And perhaps that’s what you want, but the repercussions might be more than you’re prepared to handle.

Yet the thought doesn’t leave you as he lowers his fingers toward your clit to pinch and tweak your next orgasm out of you. But you’re already far too sensitive, far too gone in the stimulation and the pain to enjoy it.

Instead, you try to focus on the little red light that blinks from the camera, try to imagine how pleased the audience will be to see this. How all of this will be worth it. It has to be worth it.

“Feels good, honey, doesn’t it?” he groans, now pushing your knee into your chest until you’re whimpering. “My pretty pussy takes me so well, doesn’t she? Let’s me fuck her exactly the way I want. Till she’s fucking crying.”

You nod weakly and the sight of your wet eyes makes his cock twitch as he drives himself in at a quicker pace.

And suddenly, you can’t breathe. Can’t slow the racing of your pulse or ignore the ringing in your ears. It’s everywhere, this pain. Your vision of him has gone blurry and your poor pussy feels swollen and abused.

But you tell yourself it’ll be fine. That you just need to catch your breath. You just need a second, and it’ll be okay.

Because you don’t want to say it. You’ve never had to say it before, and you don’t exactly want to start now. And you aren’t sure why, you know he’d be more than understanding. But this is silly, you feel silly. Because you’re fine. You just need a second. And it'll pass.

It will pass.

But it doesn’t pass, and you don’t feel in control of your own body anymore. Which is normally the point, but not today. Today you need to feel grounded, to feel some semblance of power over the anguish. And he’s so good, and so kind, and you can’t say it. You can’t do this to him, can’t do this to yourself, and if you can just catch your breath, it’ll be okay.

Because he feels good, he really does. And you’re making him feel good, and you don’t want to take that from him. Because then he won’t get to cum, and he’ll be upset, and he’ll never treat you the same. He’ll always remember that you were too weak to take it.

So you’ll take it, you will. You’ll be his good girl, his good little slut, and you’ll make him proud.

You will.

Your eyes squeeze shut as you repeat this mantra. As you command yourself to like the pain. Because you do. You have to. You can’t say it. You can’t, so you won’t, and you won’t do this, and you won’t ruin it, and it’s fine, and everything is fine—

“Wait,” you whisper, hands tugging on the sweaty curls at your disposal. Hard enough to capture his attention. “Wait, hold on, hold…yellow.”

Just like that…it all stops. He stills, instantly. No more thrusts into your cunt, no more pinching or pulling on your clit, no more kisses to your neck. It all stops in the blink of an eye, and you hear him inhale a quick breath as his body freezes above yours.

Seconds pass. Quiet and filled with a charged, tense energy that’s so eerie, you can almost hear your heart thumping in your chest.

Then, he murmurs, “Okay. Okay, m’waiting.”

Your lashes flutter shut as a wince stretches across your expression. He doesn’t sound upset, but maybe he is. And you can feel his cock twitching inside of you, can sense how hard he’s trying to hold himself back, how difficult this must be for him to stop like this.

And you realize now that you’ve ruined it, and he’s gonna be pissed, and he’s going to end things, and he’s never gonna fuck you again—

“Peach,” he says softly, face still nuzzled against your shoulder. “Talk to me, what do you need? What would you like me to do?”

You don’t trust your voice. Can feel the influx of tears racing up the back of your throat as you squeeze his hair harder and shake your head.

But this isn’t an answer he accepts, his fingers gently tugging on your waist. “Peach, I need to hear you. I need to know what to do—”

“Nothing,” you exhale, the words getting lost in his cheek as you hold on for dear life. “Nothing, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I just need one second. One second and you can go, okay? I promise, I’m sorry—”

“Peach.” It’s not angry but it’s fervent. Determined. “Don’t…shit. Don’t you dare fucking apologize right now, just tell me…tell me what you want me to do. Do you want me to pull out? Or do you want me to stay still?”

And you want to answer, but you can’t. Because there’s too much happening in your head right now. In your heart. It’s going faster than you think it ever has, and your lungs feel like they’re going to collapse, and you want to cry—God, you want to cry. Can already feel the tears slipping down your face, fast and without mercy.

Because he’s so good, and so wonderful, and so kind, and you don’t deserve him. Especially after making him stop, and why did you make him stop, why did you do this, why can’t you just get over it—

“Hey, hey.” His head lifts, eyes finding yours as his hand comes up to cup your jaw. As delicately as he can without startling you. “Okay, it’s all right. You’re okay, Peach.”

His lips press to the tears on your skin. Gently and with great compassion. Which, in turn, only makes you cry that much harder.

“You’re okay,” he whispers between slow kisses to your cheek. “Deep breath, my love. You’re all right, I’ve got you, yeah? M’right here. Won’t let you go until you want me to.”

You melt into the mattress as he continues holding you to the best of his ability. As he attempts to comfort you without causing you any more pain.

“Honey, I need you to tell me what you need. What your body needs,” he repeats after a moment, nose faintly brushing against yours. “Do you want me to pull out or do you want me to stay still?”

Truthfully, you aren’t sure what you want. It doesn’t sting the way it did before, but you’re worried if he moves, the pain will return tenfold.

And the thought of him taking himself from you makes your chest ache.

“I don’t know,” you whimper, attempting to hide yourself in his neck. “I don’t know, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m trying—”

“Hey.” The stern voice returns as his palm tightens against your chin and pulls your focus to him. “What did I just say, hm? I don’t want to hear one more apology out of this pretty mouth. Is that understood?”

Your bottom lip quivers. “…I’m sorry.”

With a gentle but slightly amused sigh, he says, “Peach—”

“I am,” you insist, nails curling into the back of his neck. “I don’t know why I made you stop, I’m fine. I’m fine, really. I think I just got scared or something—”

“Scared?” His demeanor shifts on a dime, brows furrowing, and expression quickly growing distressed. “Scared how? What did I do? What can I do?”

“Nothing,” you repeat, gasping slightly at the implication. “Nothing, no. You didn’t…that’s not what I…fuck.”

“Okay, easy, Peach,” he mumbles, sweeping his thumb along your bottom lip soothingly. Waiting until you calm. And he studies you for quite some time, as though looking for the answer written somewhere on your face. “It was a lot, yeah? I pushed too hard.”

“No,” you try again, but his look of disapproval makes you wilt. “I mean…it was a lot, yes, but you didn’t…normally, it’s perfect. It’s never too hard or too much. You didn’t do this, I think I just…my mind wasn’t here. Maybe.”

He nods once. Contemplates this. “I should have checked in with you more frequently. Especially with the camera on—”

“No,” you huff, resisting the urge to slap his shoulder. “Stop putting this on yourself, it’s making me sad.”

“And your apologies make me sad,” he counters. “But that’s the point of the safeword, isn’t it? The system we have in place? It’s nobody’s fault. It’s about communication. About trust, about safety.”

You swallow thickly and settle into the calming safe of his eyes.

His finger continues to trace the outline of your mouth, almost as if in an attempt to collect himself. “Do you trust me, Peach?”

Your stomach sinks. “Of course.”

“Do you feel safe with me?”

“Yes.” You leave a kiss to his thumb. “Always, Sir. I promise.”

He begins to frown. “No, I don’t want you to call me that right now. I want you to call me Harry.”

And this shift – this instruction is what you were afraid of. Lashes fluttering as you whisper, “It’s…it’s okay. You can still be Sir, I promise—”

“No, I don’t want to be your dominant right now,” he corrects firmly. “I don’t want to be your Sir. Or your boss or your investor. I want to be your partner. Your equal. I want to be you and me. Us.”

And you know he means it. Can sense the truth of it behind his assertion and it feels like the first deep breath you’ve been able to take all day.

“Okay,” you agree, taking hold of his wrist to keep his hand close to your face. “Okay, we’ll be us.”

He seems relieved, dipping down to kiss the center of your forehead before asking, “Now…tell me what you want. Do you want me to pull out or keep still? What does your body need right now?”

You take a moment to find the right answer. “I don’t…honestly, I don’t know. I’m okay right now. Doesn’t…doesn’t hurt as much. You can…you can keep going if you want.”

“It’s not about what I want,” he reminds you. “It’s about what you want. What you need. If you want me to stay, I will. If you want me to go, I will.”

“I…I don’t want you to go. Really, I didn’t mean to make us stop, I swear—”

“We’re not stopping yet,” he interrupts. “Not until you say red. Right now, we’re just taking a break. Reassessing what you need. Okay?”

You nod weakly. “Okay.”

“Good.” He presses his palm to your cheek. “Do you want to say red? Do you want to stop?”

Again, you deliberate this. “No. No, I don’t think so.”

The frown returns. “I need you to do more than think, Peach. I need you to be sure.”

“I am,” you rush to clarify, shifting a bit beneath him as you squeeze his arm and fight against a pained wince. “I am, I promise. I just…I don’t know what happened. It just…there was a lot happening all of a sudden, and I couldn’t…I couldn’t enjoy it. Couldn’t focus. Couldn’t breathe or…or understand why I felt so off.”

A certain sadness finds him again as he nods and presses a couple more kisses to your temple. “I think you had a panic attack, my love.”

It’s an odd thought. One you aren’t quite familiar with, as panic attacks aren’t that common for you. In fact, you don’t believe you’ve ever had one before. At least not that you were aware of.

“Oh…” The words feel empty in your head. Weightless, with no meaning to grasp onto. “I…why?”

The corner of his mouth curls up, and the delicate smile makes your heart soar. “I don’t know. Sometimes we can’t find the cause, it just…happens.”

You blink up at him. “You’ve had a panic attack before?”

“I have,” he says calmly, and it surprises you more than it should. “I get them occasionally. Not as much anymore, though. With you.”

And this admission feels like something you can’t explain. Another piece to the Harry Styles puzzle you get to add to. Letting you see his big picture.

“I didn’t know that,” you whisper, and he shrugs.

“I never told you.” Another kiss to your forehead. “But I know how disorienting they can be, and I think it’s best we take a longer break before we continue.”

You feel your expression fall as he gently begins to move. “No, I…I don’t want to stop, I’m fine. You can…you can go—”

However, when he suddenly shifts his hips, it forces you to suck in a sharp, pained breath. Making it clear that continuing is no longer an option.

And for some reason, it feels like a punch to the gut. Knocking the wind from your lungs until that heaviness returns to your chest.

He really is going to stop. He’s going to take his body from you, and his weight, and his heat, and his cock. And the scene will be over, and maybe you won’t start again. Maybe he won’t be in the mood, or he’ll jerk one out in the shower without you, or he’ll look at you differently.

And you hate that thought more than anything in the world.

“No,” you practically whimper, grabbing onto his hips to keep him still. “No, we don’t have to stop, I’m fine. Really, it was just…it was nothing. Please, Harry.”

His thumb quickly returns to your face, brushing just below your eye to help dry the fresh set of tears on your warm, stained cheeks.

And he looks so very wounded. “Peach…this isn’t a punishment. There’s a reason we use the traffic light system, and it’s for moments like this. To keep things safe—”

“But I am safe,” you argue, the sound of your plea timid and riddled with distress. “And I’m fine now, really. You can go, we can finish. I want you to finish—”

“Peach,” he says again, but it’s a bit more resolute. “This isn’t about me finishing. It will never be about me finishing, all right? We can always resume the scene later if you’d like, but right now…I want to hold you. I want to help you feel steady again.”

And it’s the most perfect thought in the world. From the most perfectly imperfect man, and yet the idea of stopping sends sharp needles down your spine.

“Please,” you whine again, sniffling softly. “I don’t want to stop, I promise. Please don’t make us stop, please don’t…don’t…”

He dips down and nuzzles his nose to yours, forcing you to take a deep breath. “Honey, I’m not doing this to hurt you. Or upset you. I want to help, I want you to let me help. To honor our system and take a break.”

But you tug on him tighter, face disappearing into his chest as you shake your head. “Please don’t. Please just ignore me. I’ll feel worse if we stop, really. I’ll get worried and I’ll overthink, and I’ll panic again, and it’ll just be so much worse. So just…let’s finish, okay? I want to finish.”

You hear – and feel – him sigh. “Baby, I need you to listen to me right now, okay? This is my answer.”

It’s rare he uses this nickname, and even though it might be a little cliché, it makes your stomach wrench in the best possible way.

Yet still, the anguish is evident. “Harry,” you whisper, pleading desperately with everything you have left.

He slips his palm around the back of your neck to pull you from his body and allow him to see your face. It’s scrutinous, his expression. Slightly stern and somewhat doleful. “Do I need to be your dominant again? Is that the only way you’ll listen to me?”

Truth be told, you wonder if it is, and your sad little hiccup seems to be answer enough.

So, while fighting a smile, he says, “Then I want you to be a good girl and let Daddy hold you. I don’t want you to argue with me, or fight me, or act like a brat. I want you to say, ‘Yes, Sir,’ and be done with it. Is that understood?”

With a shaky inhale and a feeble nod, you murmur, “Yes, Sir.”

“Good,” he hums before landing his mouth on yours. Kissing you for the first time in what feels like years. “Much sweeter when you behave for me, my love. Aren’t you?”

But you don’t have the strength to answer.

“I know,” he says for you, chuckling against your lips. “Now…I’m gonna pull out. And I’m gonna go slow, all right? Try to be as gentle as I can. And I want you to tell me if it aches or if it’s too much, yes?”

“Yes, Sir.”

With this vow, he begins to draw his hips back, cock retreating from your pussy until that full feeling begins to diminish.

And at first it’s a bit uncomfortable. Tight, in a sense but eventually, he’s all the way out, and your cunt is provided a moment of much needed reprieve.

The moment that relief finds you, it seems to melt across your expression. And he notices, smiling gratefully but with a twinge of regret. As though he’s punishing himself for causing you the displeasure in the first place.

But before either of you can argue about it again, he’s settling on the mattress beside you and slipping an arm around your stomach. Keeping you pressed against his body to hold you the way he promised.

“There,” he sighs, lips returning to their rightful place on your neck. “Is that better?”

Your eyes fall shut in blissful ecstasy as you lace your hand with his. “Yes, Sir.”

He grins and that familiar dimple reappears. “Attagirl. And you’re gonna let me hold you, yeah?”

“Mhm. Always, Sir.”

He kisses the spot below your ear. “Good.”

The large bedroom falls silent while the little red light from the camera blinks the seconds away. You imagine you’ll have to scrap this video, and you want to feel regret over wasting so much content over this.

But you know, deep down, it’s not about the videos, or your OnlyFans, or the money.

Because all you really need…is here beside you.

“Sir?” you whisper into the delicate air.

His head rolls back. “Yes, Peach?”

“Thank you.”

He squeezes your hip. “Don’t have to thank me, honey. This is my job. This is what we agreed on.”

“I know,” you admit, allowing your other hand to travel to his hair. Fingers absentmindedly sweeping through the curls. “But I don’t think any of my other partners would have been this understanding. And I really appreciate it.”

His eyebrow raises. “Well, that’s why they aren’t your fucking partners anymore. You needed someone that wasn’t a total fucking twat.”

You smirk. “Touché.”

Another quiet lull as you listen to the sound of his soft breaths. Reveling in the feel of them against your heated skin. The way they keep you present in this moment with him instead of losing you to the voices in your head.

Contented, you turn and press your cheek to his forehead, nails scratching down his scalp gently. “Harry?”

“Yes, Peach?”

With a racing heart, your eyes flutter shut.

“…I love you.”

Previous Part:

~ How Many?*

~ Full One for the Money Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Credit for the incredible and perfectly peachy dividers to @firefly-graphics!!

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @kathb59 @iamjustaholeforyousir @buckyssbestgirl @harrystylesfan2686 @cherryluvhobi @caynonmoondreams @daphnesutton @uniquesexything @amateurduck @ilovec0lbybr0ck @winterrays @milfrrynation @definegirlfriendsx @allthelovehes @amiets2 @nega-omega @sucker-4-angst @hsgucci94 @gills-lounge @kennedy-brooke @avasversion @stylesfever @saturnheartz @closureesny

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unionizedwizard · 6 days ago

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it took me an embarrassingly long time to figure it out but. the summoner bahamut/phoenix phases are the enhanced version of aethercharge, which works by siphoning ambient aether to charge the ruin spell... because both bahamut and phoenix made lasting changes to the greater eorzean environment, meaning summoners attune to the ambiant radiation. unlocking the summoner job in, say, hingashi or tural without ever setting foot in eorzea would be an interesting experiment (i guess the closest we've seen so far is valigarmanda? that would be a fun egi to summon). and similarly, solar bahamut is a mix of bahamut and phoenix engineered by the wol in a mad scientist moment, because we know there isn't space for another egi in their soul, so i imagine they kinda combined them to maximize both bahamut's destructive power and phoenix's restorative abilities, but this will likely be the last enhancement we see (except some minor tweaks, probably)

on a related note, i only realized recently that the white mage "thin air" spell (allowing the next spell to be cast without expending MP) works by "thinning air" (i.e siphoning ambient aether); i wonder if this works similarly for both summoners and white mages. and of course there are only 2 charges of thin air because while you could theoretically cast all your spells by drawing upon ambient aether, we know what consequences it had in the past, and the wol is explicitly granted their white mage jobstone for their restraint and will to respect natural balance & the ways of nature as a whole. so in my opinion this is a chosen, self-imposed limit, not a technical one

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wlwsoccerfics · 3 months ago

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Lifeguard Duty (CaitlinFoordXFoordReader)

A/N: did some tweaking there but hope you enjoy the request.

Summary: you are Caitlins sister and you are a lifeguard. Saving a child and getting hurt in the process.

You reacted fast when you heard a screaming Kid. He was around 9 years old. You saw him and ran into the water, noticing he was holding onto His friend. A Boy you assumed was the same age as him. He was passed out. You swam over to them.

"what happened?" You asked when you noticed the passed Out Boy.

"He panicked cause of a little Wave and passed out." He sobbed out. So the Panic was what took him out .You grabbed a hold of both of them with one arm . The two were Paddelboarding.

There was a Sharp pain in the back of your head.

Last Thing you remember from the rescue was getting them both to safety before you passed out.

Only to wake up in the hosptial. The bright lights hurt your eyes. You felt someone hold your hand, so you turned your head slighlty. Letting out a small groan.

"careful sis." Caitlin told you. She let out a relieved breath she didn't know she was holding, cause you woke up.

"what happened Caitlin?" You looked around. "What am i doing in the hospital?" You asked.

"you don't remember? You have a concussion. You tried to save a kid that got Hurt and his friend. Appearently the Kid woke up while you saved him and somehow Hit the Back of your head with a Paddle or the Board. Cause he was panicking again. That is unclear. You got them both to safety and then passed out yourself" Caitlin explained what she had heard from the doctors.

"so the Kids are both okay?" You wanted to know. Your sister nodded her head.

"yes they are." She confirmed. Offering you a little smile. You gently touched your head.

"good. my head is killing me." You groaned softly.

" I am Not surprised. You needed 12 stitches." Caitlin let you know.

"damn. That sucks alot!" You answered, sighing softly.

"i am lucky you are okay, could have been way worse then Just a concussion." Your sister told you.

"yeah we were all quite worried when Caitlin got the call!" You Heard someone say. Turning towards the voice you know all so well.

"Kyra, sorry for scaring you!" You replied to your best friend.

"yes true little pest was so worried. We all were!" Caitlin agreed with Kyras Statement.

"i didn't mean to do that! Just tried doing my Job. And not get knocked out." You told them.

Caitlin decided to stay over night. So when you would get discharged the next day she would take you back to the Hotel were the Tillies were staying for camp. Mainly so she could keep an eye on you. And cause they didn't tell your girlfriend about it just yet. Your girlfriend happened to be a footballer as well. In fact you were dating Caitlins Arsenal teammate Alessia. You were surrounded by them in your Life. You were a lifeguard . Tearing your ACL three times, once in high school & then twice in College . Which ruined your Professional Football career before it even started. It still hurt sometimes that you had to go through a different path to find Happiness again but you knew you couldn't change it. Being a lifeguard wasn't your only Job. No your Main Job was being an author and you usually lived in england. Just a few months every year you spend back in Australia to be a lifeguard.

You have just arrived to Matildas Camp an hour ago when Kyra walked into the room you shared with your sister and Steph at the Moment. Cause the two let you room with them. You didn't knew why but Kyra looked quite guilty.

"Ky, what did you do?" You asked her but before you could wait for her response your Phone went off. Alessia was calling.

"i might have accidentally told Lessi about you getting hurt!" She admitted. Instead of replying you just frowned and sighed before answering the Phone.

"less, my Love. How are you?" You asked.

"are you joking?! How am i? How are you? You were in the Hospital! And No one told me!" She replied. She clearly sounded Stress and like she was in tears.

"Babe are you crying? I am okay really. I got some stitches and a headache. Nothing too bad. It will all be better in a few days. I will come pick you up from Camp even." You suggested. "Gonna fly back earlier this time around!" You rambled on.

"i would like that. but only when you really feel well enough. why didn't you tell me? Why did No one called me? I could have lost you!" Alessia sobbed out which honestly broke your Heart.

"we didn't want to worry you! You have Camp to worry about!" You told her gently.

"babe, you are more important then anything else. Football comes way after you and other people i care about and love!" She answered and honestly you felt that in your Soul.

You also would be quite upset If Alessia gets hurt and no one would tell you. Cause you always gonna worry. No matter what.

"i promise from now on i will always make sure you get informed when i am hurt. When we get married i am gonna Change you to my emergency contact anyways." You replied with earned you a few "aww's" from the other Girls.

"that's so sweet Babe. And Same...wait did i just hear your sister, Steph and Kyra? I need to have a Chat with them! Cause they should know better then to keep this from me!" Alessia answered. You and her said a quick goodbye before Caitlins Phone Started ringing.

"you might be in trouble, sis!" You told her.

#woso request #woso x reader #woso fic #caitlin foord x foord reader #matildas x reader #alessia russo x reader #kyra cooney crossxreader

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aemondapologistfrfr · 8 months ago

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Anything for You - Pt4

daemon x daughter!reader

Previous Parts

Summary: The remainder of your pregnancy goes smoothly as Daemon and you sequester yourselves on Dragonstone. He dotes on you and ensures that your needs and wants are met. You both visit Kings Landing to show off your child and the King offers you both something you never expected.

Warnings: 18+ pregnant!reader, swearing, bondage, fingering, public, oral(f+m), nipple play, p in v, time skips, birth(the most chill birth fr), breast feeding

Authors Note: idk what happened but now it’s a miniseries 😵‍💫👩🏼‍💻 my friend asked me what the plot of this series was and I sent them one of the sexiest edits of short haired daemon i’ve ever seen saying “this is the plot” like bffr do i need one 🤔🤭

Word Count: 3.3k now 5.8k oopsies

ᓚᘏᗢ

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

It’s been two moons since the King and the Hand were foolish enough to try and take me from Daemon. He hasn’t allowed me out of his sight since and now more than ever since it’s become apparent I’m growing with his child. He usually keeps a hand pressed against my swollen stomach and bends down to whisper words of affection.

“I just want to go for a walk in the gardens like I used to.” I pout looking up at my father.

“Let me at least put a guard at every entrance and exit. If you must go without me then allow me at least this peace of mind.” he cups my face. My eyes start to water and his brows scrunch as his thumb quickly wipes them away. “What is wrong, sweet girl?” he searches my eyes.

“They ruined my peaceful home.” I sniffle burying my head in his chest. His arms wrap around me, holding me tightly. “I want it to be like it was,” I cry into his tunic.

“Can daddy make you feel better?” he rubs my back and I nod my head. He leads me back to our bed and props me up against my mountain of pillows. He starts to slowly lift my skirts exposing my center to him. “I like that you’re always bare underneath here now. It makes it easier for me to please you.” he trails a single finger up my slit.

He sits on the edge of the bed next to me and begins to untie the front of my dress allowing my breasts to spill out. I look up at him with pleading eyes as he brings his free hand up to cup one of my swollen breasts. His thumb brushes against my nipple and I whimper as he starts to slowly tweak it. I watch him lower his mouth to my hardened peak and my fingers tangle in his short locks.

He looks up at me as his tongue lashes against my skin while his fingers start to swirl around my bud. I whine as he kisses across my chest before sucking my other nipple into his mouth. His teeth graze against it and I mewl holding him against my chest and I feel him smirk into my skin. My hips roll against his fingers and he kisses between my breast and down my swollen stomach. He settles between my legs and I pout that my fingers can’t reach his head over my bump.

I grab onto one of the arms he has wrapped around my waist as he presses open mouth kisses up my thighs. His tongue softly licks at my bud and I buck into his face. He starts to quicken his pace while slowly pushing two fingers into me. My thighs quake on either side of his head as he continues to feast upon me.

“Daemon, please,” my nails dig into his arm. My high builds quickly and with the curl of his fingers I burst across his face. He continues to lap at me while I whimper above him. His fingers languidly push into me slowly pulling pleasure from me. “Daddy,” I gasp as he starts to flick his tongue against my bud. He licks down to my entrance with his fingers still pushing into me and I press myself against his hot mouth.

I bring my hands up to cup my breasts as I grind against his face. I trace my fingers around my nipples pulling soft gasps from my mouth. “I’m gunna, I-“ a pleasure filled sob falls from my lips as my high rips through me. When I finally come down Daemon is slowly kissing my bump before pulling my skirts back down. His lips press against my breasts and he lets his tongue circle my nipples before he ties the front of my dress back up. He kisses up my neck before claiming my lips.

“Let me take you for a walk in the gardens.” he murmurs against my lips and I nod quickly.

He helps me up from the bed and begins to adjust my dress. He kneels down and helps me put my slippers on before rising and offering me his arm. He escorts me down the stairs and when we step outside I inhale the fresh air. A smile forms on my lips as the sun wraps us in its warmth. We begin down the stone path and I let the sounds of nature soothe me.

“You are so beautiful.” I turn to Daemon at his words.

“So are you.” I hum cupping his cheek. I admire his bright silver hair in the sun and the way his violet eyes always have that mischievous glint in them. He pulls me against him and places his lips on mine. We pull apart and he kisses my brow before we continue through the gardens. I bring him over to my bench and we sit together for a while watching the water.

I turn my head and study my father, indulging in the fact that no one gets to see him in this form. His eyes have shut and he’s leaning back allowing the sun and breeze to kiss his face. His short hair is being ruffled by the wind which is also causing a soft blush to appear on his cheeks. My tongue darts across my lips as I admire him. I get off the bench surprisingly quietly and settle on my knees between his legs. He cracks an eye open and looks down at me with a smirk.

“What are you doing, my naughty little wife?” he spreads his legs wider for me and I bring my hands up to rest on his thighs.

“I just wanna suck on you.” I pout my lips looking up at him. He groans as my hands slide up his thighs and begin to unlace his trousers. He pushes them down a bit and I shove my hand down them eager to free him. My hands wrap around him and he tosses his head back as I wrap my lips around his tip. I suck and swirl around the tip as he curses softly above me. I hum around him as my tongue flicks against the slit.

“Fuck,” he groans when I look up at him. I pull my mouth off of him and offer his tip soft licks and watch his chest heave. He moans as I slowly sink my mouth down around his length and start to bob my head. I know he’s straining himself from taking control as I feel his thighs start to tremble under my arms. “Such a good girl.” he rasps, pushing back my hair.

I pull my mouth off of him again and let my fingers wrap around him. I quickly stroke him and he pants looking at me with flushed cheeks. His hips jerk up into my hand as his length glides through it. I let my tongue brush against the tip of him and smile at his moans.

“You torture me.” he grits out through his teeth. I wrap my mouth around his tip again and suck harshly as my hand continues jerking him and he shoots his pleasure down my throat. I look up at him watching as I swallow every drop he has to offer me. I slide my mouth off of him and help him back into his trousers.

“Thank you.” I smile up at him and he helps me off of my knees and back onto the bench.

“Mm, thank you, sweet girl.” he presses his lips against mine and pulls me closer as we watch the Bay below us.

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I’ve been seeing the maester at least once a week now and he is sure that the babe will come within the next moon. I was sure I would feel more tense by the end of this pregnancy but I feel so at ease and content. Over the past three moons Daemon has been able to settle and things are how they once were.

There’s more of a chill in the air now that the winter months are upon us. Most days I stay curled up by the hearth in our chambers. When I do want to go outside my father insists I bury myself in furs. Today I tried to sneak down the steps in only a cloak and his hand wrapped around my arm before I could make it a step past the main doors.

“You’re lucky I can’t put you over my knees in your current state.” his hand rests across my ever growing bump. “Go put your furs on or you’re not leaving this castle.” he looks down at me sternly.

“No.” I cross my arms and he raises his brows.

“What do you mean no?” he has a hint of a smile on his lips.

“I will go outside as I am.” I raise my chin at him. His fingers grab onto my chin and tilt my face up more.

“You will not.” his eyes darken. “It’s cold.” his fingers tighten around my arm.

“It’s not.” I flare my nostrils.

“Let’s go.” he says lowly before tugging me back up the stairs. He shuts the doors to our chambers and starts to lead me through them. I scrunch my brows when he leads me past my wardrobe and out onto our balcony. He turns me around and unties my dress before pushing it down to pool on the stone floor. He turns me towards him and watches as my skin prickles in the breeze. “Are you cold, sweet girl?” he tilts his head letting his hands rest on my waist and I’m silently thankful for his warmth.

“No.” I purse my lips looking up at him.

“Why are these so hard then?” he taunts, capturing my nipples between his fingers. “Hm?” he watches me squirm. I squeeze my thighs together and he chuckles before removing one of his hands from my chest. He pinches my nipple hardly right before he lands his free hand onto my ass. I scoot closer to him and he lets his hand move from my breast down between my thighs as he brings his other hand down upon my cheek again.

“Please,” I gasp as his fingers swirl around my bud. He chuckles before he pulls his hand away and I look up at him with pleading eyes.

“Is it cold outside?” he looks down at me with a raised brow.

“No.” I shake my flushed cheeks no longer cold. He barks out a laugh and leads me out further onto the balcony.

“Put your hands on the rails.” I press my palms into the stone at his words. He pulls my hips back and spreads my legs before rubbing between them. He slips two fingers in and I cry out into the sky. His thumb brushes against my bud everytime he slams his fingers into me. His other palm comes down on my cheeks and I push back into him digging my nails into the stone.

“Daem-Daddy, please,” my words slurred as I start to pulse around his fingers. He pulls me up against his chest as I catch my breath. He presses his lips against my neck and I lean back into him.

“Ready for more?” he purrs and I nod my head. “Do you want to go inside or stay out here?” I feel his smile against my skin.

“Stay out here.” my voice a whisper and he turns my head to capture my lips.

“You’re fucking perfect.” he murmurs as he places one last kiss on my lips. “Put your hands back on the rail.” he turns me around and I get back into the same position. I hear him unlacing his trousers and his hands are digging into my cheeks as he spreads them. He slowly starts to press his tip into my core and I moan loudly. “Trying to make sure the whole island hears how good I fuck you?” he starts a pace that leaves me gasping.

“Yes, yes, please,” I whine. His fingers dig into my hips and pound me back into him. With every snap of his hips the sound of our skin echos off the stone along with my whimpers. The cool breeze licks across my skin and I push back into Daemon. I groan at the friction and he rolls his hips into mine. “Yes,” I moan loudly, gripping onto the railing.

“Gods, you sound like a common whore.” he grips my ass and I whine pushing my hips back to meet his thrusts. My high slams through me unexpectedly and he lets out curses holding me against him as he pours into me. We catch our breath, still clinging to each other and he dips down to my ear. “Is it cold outside?” his lips press against my neck.

“No.” I bite my lip to hold in my giggle.

“Get inside.” he pulls out of me causing a soft moan to fall from my lips. I start to walk back into our chambers and I hear the crack before I feel the sting on my cheek. I put my hand on my ass and turn around at him and scowl. “Go lay on the bed.” he smirks down at me.

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

My eyes open just before dawn and I sit up and look out the window. I brush off Daemon's arms and go to rest my cheek across the cool stone of the balcony doorway as the sun begins to rise. Our chambers are slowly cast into a golden light and as I turn I see him sitting up watching me.

“You look radiant.” his voice raspy.

“I think the babe is coming.” I rest my hand on my stomach with a smile.

“What do you mean?” he’s towering over me the next second.

“We should get the maester.” I pull him down into a kiss. I don’t feel any need to rush but I know once everything is set up I’ll be ready.

“Are you okay?” his brow furrows as he places his hands on my stomach. “How do you know? Are you in pain?” he starts to bring me over to the bed.

“I feel the pressure.” I nod. “Just go get the maester.” I look up at him.

“I will not leave your side.” he shakes his head. He has the guard go find the maesters and he comes back to my side. “Come lay back down.” he sighs, seeing me over by our wardrobe and linen.

“We need towels for the bed. I need to get the blanket for the babe. I have a dress I want on for after.” I grab things at my own pace as he continues to rest a hand on my back.

“Are you going mad? Why are you so calm?” he searches my face.

“Because I feel safe and cared for.” I cup his cheek. “I’m not in pain. I’m excited to meet our babe.” I nod at him.

“Please sit and let me gather the things you need.” he looks at me with pleading eyes. The maester walks into our chambers and I smile at him.

“Why do you think you’re starting your labors, Princess?” the maester looks me over.

“I can feel the pressure. The comings and goings of the pains. It’s tolerable but the babe will be here soon.” I nod with certainty. “Please grab the towels for me.” I look at Daemon. He spreads them out on the bed and I walk back over to the wardrobe to find the blanket. I smile, bringing it to me and hugging it tightly. I pull my dress off the hanger and place it on the chair for the midwives to help me into after.

“A dress for after birth.” my father shakes his head and helps me lay back into bed. “How are you feeling?” he lays next to me.

“Excited. Relaxed. Ready.” I hum and press my lips against his. He presses his lips against my forehead and looks to the maester.

“I’m going to check and see if you’re ready.” the maester looks at me and I nod. He helps me prop my legs up and looks back up to me with a scrunched brow. “You’re ready. Are you truly in no pain princess?” my midwives flock to my sides with wet cloths to cool me if needed.

“No, I don’t have any pain.” I shake my head and grab Daemon’s hand.

The midwives breathe with me and I begin to push. The pressure of pushing became a little overpowering and I let a couple curses leave my mouth but after three pushes my babe lets out a cry and the maester is offering Daemon a blade to cut the cord. He wraps the babe in a blanket and brings them down to my arms.

“A son.” he presses his lips to my brow. “You’ve given me a son.”

“You are so handsome.” I coo pulling the blanket down to run a finger down his cheek. “What should we name him?” I look up at Daemon who is looking down at me with reverence.

“Aelon.” he wraps his arm around the babe and curls next to me. “My family.” the maesters and the midwives start cleaning up and let us have a couple moments to ourselves. They come back over to clean the babe and help me change.

“Princess you needn’t wear such finery after that.” a midwife murmurs as she slips the silk over my head.

“I like the way silk feels on my skin. Might you call my handmaidens. I wish for my hair to be braided.” I hum dismissing her.

“No need, sweet girl.” my father hums coming to my side. “I will braid your hair for you.” he presses a kiss to the side of my head. He guides me back to the bed that’s been stripped of the towels and lined with fresh ones. I lay back and sigh contently as I sink into the feather bed.

They bring Aelon back into my arms and Daemon takes a seat next to us. I pull my top down and allow him to feed. Daemon watches us in awe and my handmaidens flood into the room with drinks and foods to offer me. They leave me with everything I could possibly need before shutting the doors and leaving the three of us to bond.

“I’ll be right back.” he walks to the table and pours me a glass of water and brings it over to me. He returns to the table once more and brings me an assortment of food and I smile as he walks away once more. This time to my vanity to retrieve my brush and ties for my hair.

“Thank you.” I hum as he joins me back in bed and begins to run the brush through my hair. His deft fingers quickly put two plaits in my hair before tying them off. He looks down at me and Aelon who is fast asleep in my arms. “I love you.” I look up at him.

“I love you.” he presses his lips against mine before wrapping his arms around me. We watch Aelon sleep for a while before we set him in his crib to sleep. Once we get back into bed I rest against Daemon and allow myself to rest with a smile on my face that when I wake it’ll be with my husband and son.

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One moon after birth

I coo and press kisses against Aelon’s cheeks as he smiles and babbles in my arms. I continue to walk us through the gardens and stop and let his little hands grab onto some of the flowers. He plucks the flowers and throws them behind my shoulder as I bring us under the cover of the twisting trees. We emerge on the other side of the garden and I smile as my bench comes into view.

I curl us up on the bench and smooth down his silver hair that’s being blown astray. His fingers grab onto my hair and push it away before letting go and grabbing more. I press my lips to his forehead and wrap my arms around him inhaling deeply. He starts to wiggle in my arm and grab for something behind me. I slowly start to turn and beam when I see Daemon approaching.

“Hello, my sweet little wife.” he hums, dipping down to press his lips against mine. “My handsome young man.” he scoops Aelon out of my arms and I watch them with a warm heart. I rise off the bench and walk to Daemon's side.

“My handsome men.” I lean into his side as he tickles our son's neck causing him to squeal.

“How are you feeling? Any lingering pain? Tenderness? The maester can hardly believe you gave birth but a moon ago.” he studies my face as I shake my head.

“No pain. I wouldn’t say tender but more like,” I chew on my lip looking for the word. “Sensitive. Of course my breasts are tender. Our son’s appetite could rival an armies.” I chuckle pinching his cheeks.

“Well if he ever saves some for me let me know.” his words cause a blush to rise up my chest to my cheeks.

“I will.” my words barely a whisper as I look up at him. “It’s almost his nap time.” I grab Daemon's free arm and start to lead us back to the castle.

My handmaidens are at my side the moment I enter the hall and offer to take Aelon for his nap. I thank them and allow my father to lead us back up to our chambers. I sink back into my chaise in front of the hearth and he towers over me looking over every inch of my body.

“You are so very beautiful, sweet girl.” he lets his fingers brush against my cheeks. “I miss you.” his voice is full of want and I bite my lip, batting my eyelashes up at him.

“You’re with me almost every hour out of the day.” a serpentine smile spreads across his features at my words.

“You know what I mean.” he kneels on the floor next to me. “It’s been almost a moon. You know I’m not a very patient man but it is not my desire to cause you pain. I’ll wait as long as you need me to.” my want begins to pool in my small clothes at his words. My desire has been continuously building over the past moon as well.

“Maybe we could just start with you beneath my skirts?” his eyes darken and his hands make their way to my legs quickly. “See how it feels and go from there?” I look at him in question and he nods his head disappearing beneath my skirts.

He presses his lips against my thighs and I softly gasp above him fisting my skirts. His hands wrap around my waist and scoot me forward before his lips are pressing against my small clothes. His tongue darts out and licks up my covered core and I shutter above him. He starts to tug them down my legs and I shake as I feel his warm breath on my core. He presses his lips to my bud and I moan loudly.

“Yes, daddy,” I whine as he starts to softly lap at my bud. My hips start to roll against him and he pulls me closer to his mouth. His tongue slides down to my core and I let out a strained cry. “Please, try a finger,” I whine and he groans into my core. He slowly presses a long finger into me and my breath catches as my pleasure continues to build. Between the slow movements of his tongue and fingers I’m falling apart on my chaise. He slowly comes out from beneath my skirts with a wet face and smile.

“How was that?” he searches my face.

“I want more.” I grab his hand and he chuckles.

“Later. Aelon will be up soon and we have a boat being prepared for us.” I pout at his words and allow him to help me up.

My handmaidens come into our chambers a handful of minutes later and begin to help me prepare for our travels. I’ve been dreading going to King's Landing but my father seems to think the King will see reason when he sees our babe. We’re only visiting for a couple days but even an hour is enough for me. I still think about how poorly the last time went when the King sent his men to take me.

“You have nothing to worry about.” Daemon comes over and kisses my brow. “No harm will come to you or Aelon. I promised you this moons ago and I promise you this again. You both are safe.” he pulls me into his embrace and I begin to relax in his arms.

ᓚᘏᗢ

My father steps out onto the dock first and offers me his hand to help me and Aelon walk onto the wooden surface. The common folk and fishermen look at us with wide eyes and when my father turns around and faces them they avert their eyes quickly. Men from the Kingsguard approach us and Daemon steps in front of me and our son.

“We’re here to help escort you to the Keep, my Prince and Princess.” he nods his head and walks over to a covered carriage.

“Mm.” my father nods his head and keeps an arm wrapped around me as he escorts me to the carriage.

He helps me settle into the seat and makes sure Aelon is content before dipping his head down and entering the carriage with us. He shuts the door with a snap and the carriage starts to move forward at once. He looks at me with a smile and pulls the linen to the side so Aelon can look at the city passing by us. The carriage begins to slow as we make it through the main gates to the Keep.

Daemon helps us out of the carriage and keeps an arm wrapped around me tightly. Aelon is resting on my hip that’s closest to Daemon and he looks down at us as if to make sure we’re still here and safe. Lords and Ladies pass by us in the courtyard and I can feel their eyes and almost hear their whispers. I start to frown and my father starts to escort me into the Keep. The Kingsguard leads us to the throne room and I watch with a soft smile as Aelon looks around taking in his new surroundings.

As we approach the throne room the Kingsguard pushes the doors open for us and shuts them once we pass the threshold. The King is seated upon the stairs whispering quickly to the Hand. Their heads turn to us and a smile spreads across the King's face. He groans, rising from his jagged chair and walking down the steps. He stops in front of us and his eyes lock onto Aelon.

“What a handsome Prince of the realm. May I?” he holds his hands out for Aelon and I look up at my father who nods his head. I pass Aelon to the King who pinches his cheeks and Aelon smiles bringing his small hand up to the King's face. “What is his name?”

“Aelon.” Daemons face softens looking at our son.

“After our parents?” the King looks up at him with a twinkle in his eyes. My father nods slightly and the King laughs. “I never thought you would be so sentimental.” I watch my fathers nostrils flare and I wrap my arm around him. “How were your labors?” the King looks down at me.

“Quick with little pain.” I smile up at him softly.

“That’s lovely to hear.” he nods at me. “I’m sure you’ll cause your parents plenty of trouble as you grow.” he tickles Aelon’s belly before handing him to Daemon. “Look at you both.” he shakes his head. “Come.” he nods us over to the small table at the bottom of the steps.

“I hope your travels were safe.” the Hand offers and my father scoffs.

“We’ve had many moons to think on our actions. We took the wrong steps and it’s caused such a divide. Our house must remain strong. I hope you accept my apology and congratulations.” the King looks between us. “I want to offer you Dragonstone, Daemon. You’ve lived there for years before the war and now you’ve grown a family in it after the war. It’s more yours than anyone else’s.” we stare at the King at a loss for words.

“Brother, I,” Daemon searches his eyes.

“I will recognize and confirm your marriage. You both will have Dragonstone to rule over as you see fit. I wish to make amends and peace. Please allow me to do so.” my eyes start to well with tears as he looks between the three of us.

“You honor us. Thank you.” I quickly wipe away a stray tear.

“You mean this? Truly?” Daemon asks from next to me.

“I do.” the King nods.

Daemon gets up and walks around the table. The Hand tenses and I watch as the King slowly pushes back his chair and rises. He looks up at my father who leans down and wraps his arms around him. The King wraps his arms around him in answer and I hear them softly whispering to each other.

“You’re a good man. A good husband.” the King nods and my fathers brows scrunch. “Be happy, Daemon. Content even.” he pats my fathers back and I watch with a soft smile. Aelon begins to babble in my arms and Daemon returns to my side. “Go, I'll see you three for supper.” the King nods at us and my father escorts us up to my old chambers.

ᓚᘏᗢ

The supper with the King and his family went better than expected. Everyone fussed over Aelon who was more than happy to bounce from lap to lap. As we walked back up to my chambers my old handmaidens flocked to my side cooing and preening over Aelon and offered to take him for the evening. I offered them a quiet thanks as they brought him to the nursery with the other babes.

“Princess of Dragonstone.” Daemon hums after sealing us into my chambers. “I want to fill the halls of our castle with our children.” he comes to tower over me.

“Then you must fill me first, my Prince.” he lifts me into his arms at my words and walks us over to the bed.

“I plan to.” he lets me slide down his body before quickly turning me and unlacing my gown.

He pushes the fabric down my body and turns me to him, leaving me in my slip. I reach my hands out and start to pull his tunic off and he pulls it the rest of the way off. He lets my hands press against his toned torso and press my lips across his skin. My fingers start to pull at the laces of his trousers and he grunts as I push them down. He quickly kicks them off and my hand wraps around his length.

He captures my lips as I quickly start to pump him and he wraps his hand around mine. He lays me back on the bed and slowly starts to pull my slip up. I lift my arms up and he twists the silk slip on my wrists and quickly ties it to the headboard. I look up at him with pleading eyes as he sits back and watches me squirm.

“Mm, is my wife all tied up?” he tilts his head crawling over me.

He dips his head down and encases one of my nipples. I whimper above him at his teasing licks and I clench my thighs together. He continues to shower my breasts with attention and my breath starts to come out in gasps as my fingers pull on the silk. He brings his mouth to my other nipple and I arch up into him as my pleasure washes through me.

“Fuck, sweet girl. You are sensitive.” he blows softly on my hardened peaks and I whine looking at him.

“Daddy, please,” I push my chest up to him and he lets his tongue teasingly trail over my nipple.

He rolls his hips into me and I mewl as his length slides through my wetness. He continues to grind into me and with every brush of his tip against my bud I’m whimpering. My hands pull against the silk as soft pleas fall from my mouth. He starts to hump into me faster and I arch up into him coming undone once more.

“Do you think you can come if I tell you too?” he smirks against my breast as I tremble beneath him. “What does my good girl want? Hm?” he kisses up my neck while slowly rolling his hips.

“Please, please,” I whine, squeezing my eyes shut.

“Your sweet little cunt is just crying for daddy’s cock.” he groans, lining himself up at my core.

He slowly pushes into me and my toes curl as I pull against the silk. His pace is slow and his breath comes out in pants. He lets out soft curses in between his moans and I feel my stomach start to coil. His lips press against mine as he rocks into me while wrapping my legs around his waist. I whine into his mouth as I start to pulse around him.

“Fuck, sweet girl,” he groans spilling his seed into me.

He reaches up and undoes the silk and my hands grip onto his shoulders as he stays buried deep inside me. The rest of the night we stay lost in each other. Once we’re both spent In trembling in his arms as our pleasure seeps between my thighs.

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

masterlist 🔌

debating on posting part 0.5 later 🫣😣

anything for you taglist: @mamawiggers1980

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