#because he's so charming and witty and deep and soft and everything

[ohangeleyes]

⎯⎯ DEAN WINCHESTER'S FAVORITE SEX POSITIONS

everything written down is according to his birth chart. explained in details + mini scenarios :) if you want to read sam's version, click here

“he drives like he fucks—reckless, rough, and with both hands gripping tight.”

BRIEF EXPLANATION OF HIS BIRTH CHART:

✧. sun in aquarius – rebellious, unpredictable, magnetic

craves freedom and authenticity.

turns him on when you’re unique, bold, or a little quirky.

has a quiet intensity- doesn’t fall easily, but when he does, it’s deep and rare.

sexually: curious, experimental, loves surprises and breaking the rules.

✧ moon in sagittarius – fiery, adventurous, wild-hearted

emotionally restless, hates feeling trapped.

needs fun, playfulness, and lighthearted energy in relationships.

sexually: loves spontaneous, passionate encounters. he’s a dirty talker, big on thrill and adrenaline.

✧ ascendant in leo – bold, charismatic, protective

makes an immediate impression- commanding, warm, cocky charm

classic “alpha energy” but with a heart of gold under it

makes him seem confident, flirtatious, and in control even when he’s struggling underneath

sexually: likes being admired, enjoys performance, thrives on attention and praise

✧ mercury in aquarius – sharp, witty, forward-thinking

communicates through sarcasm, dark humor, and honesty.

gets off on someone who’s mentally quick and confident.

sexually: loves teasing banter, roleplay, or “mind games” that keep him on edge.

✧ venus in pisces – romantic, dreamy, soft beneath the armor

deeply emotional in love but hides it well.

needs to feel chosen, worshipped, needed.

sexually: sensual, giving, wants to feel emotionally fused. he melts when you’re soft with him after he’s rough.

✧ mars in capricorn – dominant, disciplined, controlled

powerful drive, needs to be in control physically.

expresses desire through slow, deliberate, sometimes possessive energy.

seexually: he’s a pusher. loves edging, control, restraint, but always delivers. one of the most intense placements for stamina.

THE POSITIONS:

✧･ﾟcowgirl (because he loves when you take control)

i mean, we all knew this.

sun in aquarius - he secretly loves when you surprise him or flip the script. moon in sagittarius - he likes a little fun, a little freedom, a partner who can ride him like she knows she owns him. plus? venus in pisces wants to be wanted. watching you climb on top? It shows him you crave him. that’s a turn-on all on its own.

control, but given, not taken. he loves letting you ride him. not just for the view (though let’s be honest, he’s feral for it), but because it shows you want him just as badly.

he’s cocky about it. grinning up at you with those hands behind his head like he’s in heaven. “go on, sweetheart. show me how bad you want it.” but the second you start rolling your hips, tossing your head back? gone. fists gripping your thighs, biting his lip, groaning like he’s trying not to beg. and when you lean down to kiss him mid-ride? he holds your face like you’re everything.

his leo rising loves the performance. the eye contact, the moaning, the way you take what you want while he lays back and worships every second. his venus in pisces craves connection. having you on top means he can watch every expression on your face, feel your hands on his chest, trace your body with his eyes like he’s memorizing it. and mars in capricorn? he’ll grip your hips and let you take the lead for as long as you want. but the second you start to fall apart? he’ll take over. flip you, thrust deep, and finish what you started.

⋆˙⟡ your hands are planted on his chest, thighs burning as you roll your hips slow, teasing. dean watches you, gaze dark, jaw clenched.

“fuck, baby,” he pants, hands sliding up your sides. “you look so good like this. all mine.” you grind a little harder, and his hands tighten. “keep that up and I’m not gonna last.”

you smirk, but before you can answer, he grabs your hips, thrusts up, and groans, “actually- screw it. I wanna see you fall apart first.⋆˙⟡

✧･ﾟdoggystyle (but not just for roughness)

dean’s mars in capricorn makes him dominant, focused, and deeply into the rhythm and control of sex. his leo rising makes him obsessed with the view, the power, and the performance of it all. venus in pisces? that’s where the hidden tenderness comes in, because even when it’s rough, he’s connected. and he never stops watching your reactions like they’re his lifeline.

this position gives him visual overload- your back arched, your ass bouncing, your hair a mess, it hits every damn nerve in his body. he's in total control- he can grip your hips, your throat, your shoulders, he can hold you still and pull you back into every deep, punishing thrust. emotional distance with emotional depth- from behind, it looks rough, detached, but dean? he’ll be muttering soft praise under every growl. he feels every bit of it.

he starts with firm but slow thrusts, watching how your body reacts, listening for the sounds you make. then he picks up the pace, gets more desperate, maybe one hand tangled in your hair, the other on your hip. he loves grabbing a fistful of your ass, leaning over your back to growl in your ear, his chest flush against you just for a second. if he really loses control? one hand slides under to rub you, because making you come from behind is his personal obsession.

⋆˙⟡ you’re on your hands and knees, breath heavy, sheets rumpled. dean’s behind you, one hand gripping your hip tight, the other tracing the dip of your spine.

“goddamn, sweetheart,” he groans. “this view should be illegal.”

his hips snap forward, slow and deep, making your arms shake. He leans down, mouth at your ear. “you feel that?” he whispers, voice gravel. “that’s me owning every inch of you.”

you whimper, and that’s it. he pulls back and slams into you harder, setting a rhythm that has you crying out, your hand grabbing at the sheets. dean’s groaning your name now, voice raw. “touch yourself, baby. I wanna feel you come around me like this.” ⋆˙⟡

✧･ﾟmissionary with his hands pinning yours

mars in capricorn gives him that slow, controlled dominance. when his hands are pinning yours? that’s him saying “i’m in charge, but i’m not hurting you. i’m here. i’m not going anywhere.” venus in pisces craves closeness. eye contact, connection, feeling you breathe against him. this position gives him full access to all of that. leo rising adds just the right amount of possessiveness. When he pins you down, it’s not just to dominate, it’s to remind you that you’re his, and he’s going to ruin you gently.

you’re flat on your back, your arms stretched above your head. dean’s body is pressed to yours, chest to chest, every inch of him heavy and grounding. his hands lock around your wrists, fingers laced if he’s feeling tender, palms firm if he’s feeling filthy. he looks into your eyes the whole time. and if you try to look away? he leans in and says, “no. eyes on me.”

he gets to watch every reaction, the little gasps, the lip bites, the way your eyes flutter. he loves the vulnerability, not just yours, but his own. you’re beneath him, but he’s bared too. there’s nowhere to hide when it’s this close. he can whisper to you the entire time, sweet nothings, filthy praise, promises he’ll make with every thrust.

⋆˙⟡ dean hovers over you, eyes dark, lips parted. your wrists are pinned above your head, his fingers strong and warm against your skin.

“you trust me?” he murmurs, voice low. you nod.

“good.” he kisses you. soft, slow. then pulls back, rocking his hips into yours. deep. unhurried. devastating.

“don’t move those hands,” he whispers, gaze locked to yours. “I wanna see you take it just like this.”

he grinds into you, his grip tightening every time your body arches. you moan his name and he smiles, leaning down, nose brushing yours. “that’s it, baby. let me see you fall apart.”⋆˙⟡

✧･ﾟlap sex / chair sex

control meets worship. dean loves to watch you. having you in his lap while he’s seated? he gets to feel everything, direct every movement, and watch your face. up close and personal. his leo rising thrives off the view, the confidence in you taking control. but also loves when you surrender to his grip. mars in capricorn brings the physical intensity. his hands will roam, grip, guide. he’ll lift you into every grind and keep the rhythm with bruising precision. venus in pisces softens it just enough. he’ll kiss your chest, your neck, your jaw. even when he’s losing control, there’s this underlying reverence, like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

he’s sitting back, legs spread, arms flexing as he grabs your hips. you’re straddling him, facing him. or sometimes, you’re facing away- reverse cowgirl style on the chair, his hands on your thighs and ass, growling in your ear about how good you look. he talks the entire time. encouraging, praising, groaning: “that’s it, baby. ride me. take your time"; "you feel that? that’s what you do to me.”

he'll do it anywhere. motel chairs. those ugly ones with the stiff seats? doesn’t matter. he’s pulling you into his lap in 0.5 seconds. the impala. front seat reclined, you climbing over him, all breathy moans and fogged-up windows. kitchen chair. He’s already sitting there, legs wide, looking up at you with that smirk like, “what are you waiting for?”

⋆˙⟡ he’s sitting on a motel chair, legs spread, hands gripping your thighs as you sink onto him with a shuddering breath. his eyes are locked to yours, mouth parted, a little dazed by the feeling of you wrapped around him.

“fuck, sweetheart,” he groans, pulling you closer, guiding your hips. you rock slowly, his hands sliding up your back under your shirt, fingers splaying across your skin. he kisses your chest, your throat, your jaw. with every slow grind, he exhales against your skin.

“you feel so good,” he murmurs. “take your time. we’ve got all night.” your foreheads press together. his breath catches as you clench around him and ride a little harder. he holds your hips tighter, barely hanging on. “god damn… you’re gonna kill me like this.”⋆˙⟡

✧･ﾟ spooning

but from behind or face-to-face?

the answer is both, but for very different moods.

from behind (traditional spooning – his favorite for intimacy & control):

this is dean’s default. it’s everything he craves in one position. he gets to hold you, thrust into you deeply, and watch you squirm while he whispers filth into your ear. it gives him full access. to your chest, your throat, your thighs. and he can wrap himself around you completely. it’s possessive without being aggressive. he doesn’t need to look you in the eye to feel completely connected. his mars in capricorn loves the control this position gives, and his venus in pisces adores the closeness.

⋆˙⟡ you’re barely awake, body heavy in the sheets, when you feel him behind you, warm, solid, breathing slow and steady. dean shifts, arm tightening around your waist, and without a word, he slides his hand down, finding the heat between your thighs. “you’re always so warm for me,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep and want.

you arch into him, and he groans, pulling your hips back just enough to push into you in one long, unhurried thrust. “goddamn, baby,” he whispers, forehead pressed against the back of your neck. “just like that. let me stay in you.”

his hips move slow and deep, one hand gripping your thigh, the other under your shirt, fingertips tracing lazy patterns on your stomach. your whimpers grow softer, breath catching with each stroke. he kisses the shell of your ear. “you’re mine like this. every part of you.”⋆˙⟡

face to face (the ultra-soft, post-confession or early-morning version):

rare, but precious. this is not his default, but when he initiates it, you know it means something. this version is full eye contact. kisses. breathy moans into each other’s mouths. he strokes your hair, presses his forehead to yours, maybe even says things he wouldn’t dare in any other moment.

he lets you see all of him. the desire, the tenderness, the love he doesn’t know how to name. it’s intimate as hell, and he only does this when his walls are completely down.

⋆˙⟡ the room is quiet. no motel noise, no hunting talk. just the hum of the night and dean’s eyes watching yours. you’re facing him, legs tangled, your bare chest pressed to his. he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, thumb brushing your jaw like he can’t believe you’re real.

“c’mere,” he whispers, guiding you closer, his forehead resting against yours as he slides inside you slowly. the pace is almost too soft. not lazy. intentional. like he’s trying to memorize how you feel.

his hand cups your cheek, thumb tracing the corner of your mouth. “stay with me, yeah? just like this,” he says with a small smile that cracks into something more vulnerable.

you wrap your leg over his hip, pulling him deeper, and he exhales sharply against your lips. “you break me, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “and I fuckin’ love it." he stays like that, thrusting slow and tender, kissing you between every movement, holding you like he’d never let go. ⋆˙⟡

so, which would he prefer?

from behind. because it lets him have you, protect you, ruin you, and hold you all at once. but face-to-face? that’s the one he saves for the nights when he’s too in love to hide it.

✧･ﾟ oral (but... he's a receiver)

dean loves getting head. not just because it feels good, but because it feeds his ego (leo rising). it gives him a sense of being worshipped (venus in pisces wants to be wanted). it lets him let go for a second, which is rare for him.

he leans back in a chair, one hand gripping your hair, mouth slightly open, those dean noises coming out of him- half moan, half growl. his eyes lock onto yours while he watches you go down on him, and you’ll see that cocky little smirk curl at the corner of his mouth, even while he’s falling apart.

but when he’s giving? it’s filthy worship. even if he prefers receiving, when he’s in the mood to go down on you, he’s ravenous about it. he’s not just doing it for you. he’s doing it because he loves tasting you. watching you squirm. hearing you beg.

so, he has an oral fixation- but in a very dean way. he loves receiving because it makes him feel needed, powerful, worshipped. he loves giving when he’s feeling possessive or when he needs to ground himself in your body. and he definitely has a thing for your mouth on him, especially if you tease him a little first, make him beg a bit. That’s when he gets obsessed.

⋆˙⟡ dean’s leaning back against the headboard, legs spread wide, hands behind his head like he’s relaxing, but his jaw’s already tight, watching you kneel between his thighs with that soft little smirk.

you press a kiss to his hipbone, slow and teasing. his breath hitches, but he keeps the smirk, trying to play it cool. “gonna take your time, huh?” he mutters, voice rough. “that’s real cute.”

but when your mouth finally wraps around him, warm and wet and slow, his cock twitches, and all that bravado cracks. his hands leave the headboard in a heartbeat, one threading into your hair, the other gripping the sheets like he’s hanging on for dear life. “shit- fuck, baby…”

you don’t stop. you hollow your cheeks and look up at him, and it wrecks him. his head tips back against the wall, mouth open, a low groan dragging from his throat. he tries to pull back control.

“y-yeah, just like that. jesus christ. don’t stop. please-” but his voice falters when you swirl your tongue just under the head, slow and mean.

now he’s panting. ⋆˙⟡

MASTERLIST

I JUST SERVED BREAKFAST, LUNCH AND DINNER + SWEET TREAT. you're welcome.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Odysseus all places he would fuck when 🙏🙏/silly

A/n: Me vibrating with excitement because I have been waiting for this.

Odysseus’ Favorite Places He and His Wife Have Had Sex

(Because Even the Cunning King of Ithaca Has Weaknesses… and His Wife Is the Greatest of Them All.)

From the moment Odysseus took you as his wife, you knew patience would be required. He was a man of sharp wit, endless charm, and the kind of arrogance that came naturally to someone favored by the gods.

But beneath all of that?

He was devoted. Fiercely. Unrelentingly.

To Ithaca. To his people.

And most of all—to you.

And gods help him, he could never keep his hands off you.

1. Your Wedding Night – The First Time He Claimed You As His Own

Odysseus had never believed in fate.

He had always believed in cleverness, in shaping his own destiny, in finding the path no one else could see.

But then he met you.

And suddenly, fate didn’t seem so ridiculous after all.

On the night of your wedding, after the celebration had faded, after the guests had drunk themselves into contented sleep, he had taken your hand and led you to his chambers.

And for the first time—Odysseus, the man who always had a plan, had no idea what he was doing.

Not when it came to you.

Because you were different.

You were his.

And as he undressed you—slowly, reverently, as if he were unwrapping the most sacred of treasures—he realized he had never wanted anything more in his life.

The first time he made love to you, it was slow. Deep. A vow in the form of touch.

Your fingers had tangled in his hair, your breaths had mingled between kisses, and the moment you gasped his name—he was gone.

Gone for you. Gone forever.

And in that moment, he knew—

No matter what war, what storm, what trial the gods threw at him… he would always find his way back to you.

2. The Olive Grove – Where He Learned to Worship You With More Than Words

Odysseus was not a simple man.

But his love for you?

That was simple.

It was in the way he reached for you without thinking. The way he let his fingers drift along your skin, even in the presence of others. The way he always returned to your arms after a long day, as if the weight of ruling Ithaca meant nothing once he was touching you.

And sometimes, his love for you turned into something he could not control.

Like the evening he found you walking alone in the olive groves, your hands skimming the silver-green leaves, your dress flowing around you like some kind of divine vision.

You had turned to him with a teasing smile, eyes full of mischief.

“Are you following me, my love?”

Odysseus had not even bothered to deny it.

You had expected a witty remark. A playful response.

Instead, he had kissed you.

Hard.

You had barely had a moment to gasp before he pressed you against the trunk of an ancient olive tree, his lips tracing the line of your throat, his hands pushing aside the soft fabric of your gown.

“We shouldn’t,” you had whispered breathlessly, but your arms had already wrapped around him, pulling him closer.

Odysseus had laughed against your skin.

“You knew what would happen the moment you smiled at me like that.”

And then he had worshiped you, right there, beneath the trees that had stood for centuries.

The gods had surely been watching.

And Odysseus hadn’t cared, because feeling you come undone by a few thrusts was everything.

3. The Palace Balcony – When He Needed to Prove You Were Still His

Odysseus was not a jealous man.

But he was possessive.

You were his. His wife. His queen. His breath and his heart and his home.

So when a visiting noble looked at you too long, let his compliments drip too sweetly into conversation—

Odysseus had remained calm.

Outwardly.

But later that night, as he pulled you onto the stone balcony that overlooked the sea, his hands gripping your waist with something close to desperation, you had known.

He needed to remind you.

Remind himself.

That you belonged to him as much as he belonged to you.

His kisses had been rougher that night, his hands pulling at your clothes with less patience than usual.

And when he took you—pushed against the balcony railing, the night wind cool against your fevered skin, his name gasped between your parted lips.

He made sure you felt him everywhere.

Made sure you knew that no man could ever touch you the way he did.

The sea had stretched endlessly beyond the cliffs.

But all he had cared about was you.

4. The Battlefield Tent – The Night Before War Took Him Away

War had always been Odysseus’ curse.

He had never wanted it. Never craved it the way Ares did.

But it had come for him anyway.

And the night before he sailed to Troy, before ten years of war would steal him away from you, he had needed you.

Needed to remember the way you felt beneath him, the way your body fit against his, the way you whispered his name like it was both a prayer and a command.

So that night, in the privacy of his tent, with only the flickering oil lamps casting shadows against the canvas—

Odysseus had made love to you like a dying man reaching for his final taste of paradise.

And when it was over, when your fingers traced the muscles of his back, when your lips pressed against his shoulder in silent understanding, he had promised—

“I will return to you.”

Because no war, no gods, no storm could keep him from you.

And he had kept that promise.

Even if it had taken him twenty years to do it.

And his favorite Places you two have had sex after his return home.

(Because After Twenty Years, the King of Ithaca Had A Lot of Time to Make Up For.)

Odysseus had dreamed of this.

For twenty long years.

Through war, through storms, through gods and monsters—he had clung to the memory of you.

But memories had never been enough.

Not when he had spent nights reaching for you, only to find empty air.

Not when he had whispered your name into the wind, hoping the gods would carry it back to you.

But now?

Now, he was home.

And he was never letting you go again.

1. The Marriage Bed – Where He Needed You First

He had built this bed.

With his own hands. With his own sweat. A piece of himself woven into every fiber of it.

And for twenty years, it had remained untouched.

Just as you had.

So it was only fitting that the first place he took you again was the same place he had last held you.

That night, it was slow.

It was gentle.

Not because he did not burn for you, but because he needed to savor it.

Needed to map your body with his hands, his lips, his breath, relearning every curve, every sound, every way you responded to him.

Needed to feel you, flesh and warmth and devotion, to remind himself that this was real.

That he was real.

That he had made it back to you.

You had gasped his name between kisses. Had tangled your fingers into his hair, pulled him closer, as if afraid he would vanish again.

He had whispered promises against your skin—ones that had no need for words.

And when you had come undone beneath him, when your breath had hitched and your body had trembled

He had followed, his hands gripping your waist, his forehead pressing against yours as if grounding himself in the very thing he had fought for.

You.

Always you.

He may have been covered in blood but that did not matter to you because your husband was home.

2. The Throne Room – Where He Took You as His Queen

The suitors were dead.

Their blood had been washed away. Their bodies dragged from the palace.

And yet—Odysseus still felt their presence.

Still felt their lingering trespass in his home, in the halls that had belonged to him and him alone.

Most of all, they had dared to exist near you.

And that?

That, he could not abide.

So as you stood in the throne room that evening, watching the last traces of war fade from your home, he came to you.

“You are mine,” he murmured against your ear, voice dark, rough, full of something deep and primal.

You shivered beneath his touch, but you did not stop him.

Because you understood.

Odysseus had reclaimed his throne. Now, he needed to reclaim you.

There, against the very seat of his power—he pressed you against the throne and took you as his queen.

It was not gentle.

It was not patient.

It was desperate, possessive, a silent declaration that you belonged to no one else.

That no man—mortal or god—could ever take you from him.

Your nails raked down his back. Your lips bruised against his.

And when he finally collapsed against you, breath ragged, his arms trembling around you—

He knew.

He had conquered many things.

But you would always be his greatest victory.

3. The Shoreline – Where He Marked You Beneath the Stars

The sea had tried to keep him from you.

For ten years, Poseidon had raged, had thrown him to the mercy of the tides, had cursed him with loss after loss.

So Odysseus found it only fitting that he take you beneath the very stars that had guided him home.

You had been walking along the shoreline, barefoot, your dress flowing around you in the wind, looking like something out of a dream.

Odysseus had been watching.

Always watching.

He had waited long enough.

He had come up behind you, his hands sliding along your waist, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

And when you had leaned into him, sighing softly—

That was it.

He had guided you down onto the soft sand, his body covering yours, his mouth sealing away whatever protest you might have given.

And there, beneath the endless sky, with the waves lapping at the shore—

He made love to you.

Your back against the earth, his hands gripping your thighs, your hips, keeping you steady as he drove into you.

The rhythm of the ocean matching the rhythm of his thrusts—

The sea could have raged. The gods could have watched.

Slow at first, teasing, making you beg—

And then faster, rougher, until all you could do was cry out his name.

And when it was over, when your bodies were spent, tangled together in the warm sand—

Odysseus didn’t care.

Because for the first time in twenty years, he was exactly where he was meant to be.

With you

He had kissed your forehead, chuckling softly, murmuring, “I should bring you here more often.”

And he had..

4. The Olive Grove – Where He Worshiped You Again

Odysseus had taken you here before.

Years ago, before war and fate had stolen him away, he had pressed you against these very trees, whispered filthy promises against your skin, laughed as he undid you beneath the cover of green leaves.

It was only fair that he do it again.

Only this time—it was different.

Because now, there was no guarantee of tomorrow.

Now, he knew what it was to lose you.

So when he took you there again, it was reverent.

It was not rushed.

It was Odysseus, pressing worship into your skin, hands memorizing every inch of you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.

He had groaned your name against your throat, had kissed you until your knees buckled, had held you up as he sank into you, slow and deep and unyielding.

And when you had whispered his name, breathless, undone.

He had answered with a vow.

“I will never leave you again.”

5:The Throne Room (again) Because He Likes to Remind You That He Is King

Odysseus is a man of power, a man of command.

And some nights, he enjoys reminding you exactly who he is.

The first time had been unplanned.

You had been sitting on his throne, draped in his cloak, waiting for him.

When he walked in, his gaze darkened instantly.

“You look far too comfortable there,” he had murmured, stepping closer, his voice rich with heat and something dangerous.

And before you could tease him back, before you could move.

He was on you.

His hands were gripping your thighs, pulling you forward, making you gasp.

His mouth was hot against your neck, against your collarbone, against the swell of your breasts—

And then, he was inside you, pressing you down into the throne, moving deep and unrelenting.

His lips brushed your ear, whispering, “You may sit upon my throne, but I will always rule you.”

And the moment you moaned at his words, tightening around him, trembling beneath him—

He had growled in approval, claiming you again and again.

Afterward, when you were panting against his chest, your body boneless, your lips swollen, tremors still hitting you.

He had leaned back, smirking. “Perhaps I should let you sit on my throne more often."

6. The Bedchamber – Where He Loved You As a Husband, Not a King

Odysseus was a king.

A warrior. A tactician. A man who had fought against fate and won.

But here, in your arms, he was none of those things.

He was just a man.

Just yours.

This was the last place.

The one that mattered most.

Because here, it was not about reclaiming or proving or marking.

It was just about loving.

And gods, he loved you.

So when he pulled you into his arms that night, pressing you into the softest of linens, tangling himself with you beneath the warm glow of the fire—

He didn’t rush.

Didn’t devour.

Didn’t conquer.

He just loved you.

For every night he had missed.

For every kiss he had been denied.

For every whispered promise he had wanted to give but couldn’t.

And when he finally collapsed beside you, arms still wrapped around you, your heartbeat steady against his chest.

For the first time in twenty years, Odysseus felt at peace.

Because he was finally, finally home.

[angelhyun]

show you off - sjn

[a/n]: we, as a society (ncity), moved on from wildwoods johnny way too fast for my liking…

pairing: dj!johnny suh x afab!reader

[wc]: 1.6k

-> cw: smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up guys!!!), oral (m receiving), slight voyeurism (18+, mdni)

prelude: You love that your boyfriend gets to live out his DJ dreams, but you're tired of being his little secret, constantly having to wait for him backstage. The view of his sexy back wasn't enough for you, knowing that all of the festival's attendees got the best view of your man. Luckily, you've got Johnny wrapped around your finger, and he's more than ready to show you off in numerous ways.

You were backstage at the Wildwood’s Party watching your boyfriend do his thing. He was in his element, and it made you happy to see your man pursue his passion for music. You couldn’t help but dance to his mix. You had heard most of it while he was rehearsing in front of you, but the atmosphere at the actual event was much more lively, so you just couldn’t resist.  

The screams of fans get louder and you look up to see Johnny taking off his vest, leaving him in just a grey tank top that does wonders for his muscular physique. This also revealed the Chrome Hearts chain that he bought himself—the one you were more than familiar with, often dangling over your face as he railed you. 

The act left a bitter taste in your mouth, which puzzled you. You’ve been used to the DJ lifestyle he’s been living, often taking you with him from city to city, playing at festivals just like this. Why were you feeling so jealous? He’s been nothing but loyal, only leaving your side when he’s on stage. 

Maybe that was it. Maybe you were tired of being his dirty little secret. You longed for him to show you off, but you knew deep down that while the majority of his fans favoured him for his mixes, there was still a decent chunk that was totally in love with him. You’ve seen it first hand, watching Johnny have to politely reject and navigate through crowds of women and men that practically threw themselves at him. 

You didn’t blame them. You knew your boyfriend was a total catch—confident, handsome, talented, charismatic, hard-working, witty, and effortlessly charming—what was not to love about him? He’s the total package, and you’re pretty sure he knows it, but he never fails to remind you that he only has eyes for you. You just didn't want to toy with his career in any way.

You were lost in your thoughts, not realizing his set was already over, eyeing your man as he descends the stage. His skin was glistening from the humidity, giving him a slight glow that made him look even more dreamy than usual. He spots you, jogging his way over to you. He wraps his strong arms around you, you reciprocating the hug, draping your arms over his broad shoulders. 

Giving him a smooch on his cheek, you pull back to look up at him, both of you wearing matching smiles. “You were incredible, baby!” you compliment, truly meaning it. “Thank you,” he beams. “I really enjoyed everything tonight. Just wish I could’ve seen your pretty face in the crowd.” 

Running your hand down his tattoo-clad bicep, you give him a slightly dimmer smile, which he notices. “I’d rather be up there with you.” you admit sheepishly. His eyes widen slightly in surprise, his grip on your waist becoming a bit tighter. “Really? Why didn’t you say something, baby? Would’ve loved to have you up there with me.”

Man, you were down bad for this guy. “I don’t know…thought it would’ve messed with your image or whatever.” you mutter as you look down. He gently cups your face, lifting your head so you have no choice but to make eye contact with his soft, light brown eyes. “Baby, the only reason why I didn’t suggest it in the first place was because I thought it’d be too much for you,” he explains. “I’m not gonna lie, standing up there for an hour in the heat mixed with the fog machines is kinda draining. Only reason I pulled through was because of the crowd’s energy. Though with you there, I’d be invincible.” 

You nod, actively believing him, but still being a bit in your head about this. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s on your mind.” he gently coaxes, reading you in the way that nobody else could. “I don’t want to be selfish but— I just…,” you pause, trying to collect your thoughts. “I want everyone to know I’m yours. I want everyone to know I’m DJ Johnny BE’s girl. I’m tired of being a secret.” you shyly admit.

The smile on his face only grows, but so does the lust in his eyes. “Is that right, baby? Want everyone to know you’re mine?” he asks, leaving you to nod in response. “Consider it done, pretty girl. We’ll hard-launch in Pattaya.” he grins. “Seriously?” you ask, eyes widening in excitement. Before he could answer in confirmation, your lips were pressed onto his, smirking as he kissed you back with no hesitation. He pulls back, eyes glazed over with a look you knew all too well. “Where’s your dressing room?” you inquire, knowing a quickie was exactly what you two needed. 

Before you knew it, you were being dragged into a building, maneuvering through people until you reached a door labelled DJ JOHNNY BE, which he opened swiftly. He pulls you in, pressing you against the now shut door, locking it and settling his hand on your hip. “Gotta keep it down, okay, pretty girl?” he pants, barely controlling himself. “Yes, I promise.” you whisper eagerly, feeling your heart rate pick up as he slides off his damp tank top. 

Your hands are immediately on his chest, sliding down to his abdomen, then the belt loops of his jeans. “Please,” you start. “Wanna suck you off.” you look up at him with pleading eyes. “Fuck,” he groans. “Of course you can, baby.” he says as he gently puts his hand on the top of your head, guiding you down as you descend onto your knees in front of him. He watches you undo his jeans, sliding them down alongside his boxers, freeing his raging boner. 

You were always in awe of how big he was, spitting into your own hand as you slowly began to pump his shaft. His cock was heavy, thick, and veiny–all ready for your mouth. He watches you as his breath picks up, observing you giving kitten licks to his tip, tasting the precum that has already begun to bead there. You retract your hand, looking up at him as you get ready to take him. 

Before you can, he quickly uses his hands to gather your hair into a makeshift ponytail for you. He knows you could get messy, and this wasn’t the place for that to happen. You hold eye contact as you take him in your mouth, tongue flattening on the underside of his cock as you bottom out, your nose pressing against his pubes. “Fuck, baby– How’d you take it so easily? I swear, you were just made for me.” he showers you in praise before either of you even starts to move. 

You slowly retract, stopping at his tip, before full-sending once more. Your pussy throbs from the noises he’s making and the feeling of him on your tongue as you breathe heavily through your nose, watching him as he forces his other hand up to cover his mouth. You hollow your cheeks with every bob of your head, ensuring he got the pleasure he deserved. He starts to gently thrust, matching your pace, but not wanting to hurt you today–it’s a totally different story once the two of you were in the comfort of your own home. 

He gently pushes your head off of him, giving you a view of his cock slapping against his abdomen, drenched in your saliva and his arousal. “I’m not cumming like this,” he pants, lifting you up to your feet with his sheer strength, pushing you against the wall. “Need to fill you up.” he says, already pulling down your bottoms. He reaches for your panties only to find you weren’t wearing any. “Shit, baby, did you have this all planned out?” he asks excitedly as he cups your drenched mound. The moan he let out was sinful, knowing you could take him right now without any prep. 

Not being able to form words that could explain the utter desire you had for this man, you wiggle your hips, practically grinding your ass on his cock which he thankfully understands. He lines himself up with your tight hole, sheathing himself inside of you with one quick thrust. Both of you moan quietly, you biting your lip to silence yourself knowing you were about to be a mess. He doesn’t hold back, starting to thrust into you repeatedly, establishing a vigorous rhythm. 

You reached backwards, needing to hold onto him to stabilize yourself, settling for his arms that were holding your hips as he fucked you mercilessly. “Fuck it,” he growls. “You want everyone to know I’m yours? Let them hear you, baby.” he commands, and you oblige without a question. Your moans and whimpers fill the air alongside his own groans, only getting louder as he reaches around you to toy with your clit. 

“Johnny– I’m gonna–” you whine, and he speeds up his fingers and his thrusts once he feels your walls clench. “Cum, pretty girl. Cum for me. You’ve been so good. So fucking good.” he repeats as you orgasm, the only thing keeping you up being his arm around your waist. You feel him join you, his warmth shooting up into you and coating your walls as he leans over you, flesh to flesh. The only sound in the room is heavy breathing, both yours and his. The only thing keeping you from being utterly lost in this ecstasy was his hand reaching up to cup your jaw, gently guiding your face to his for a kiss.

“Let’s do this at every stop. That way I can really show you off.”

[a/n]: head empty, only johnny... also thank you for all of the notes on my last few posts guys, i truly appreciate it. those works were literally the first 3 I've EVER written (this being my fourth) and i'm so excited for the future of this lil account that i started last week. summer break is boutta be fun with this new lil hobby. hope u enjoyed :)

[xx-dinah-writing-xx]

Hey, I love all your work and I have a question, can you write something about Tom Taylor.

Maybe he and the reader met on the set of hotd and you know friends to lovers vibe or the reader is a friend of harry collett and he introduces them to each other

Sorry if I wrote something wrong, English is not my first language

Cupid Collett

Tom Taylor x reader Fluff

————

It started with Harry. Of course, it did.

You had been friends with Harry Collett for years—one of those effortless friendships where you could go months without speaking and then pick up right where you left off. He was like the annoying little brother you never asked for, always cracking jokes, always dragging you into whatever chaos he had planned.

And this time, his chaos came in the form of Tom Taylor.

"You have to meet Tom," Harry had insisted one day over coffee, practically bouncing in his seat. "I swear, you two are gonna love each other."

You had snorted into your cup, unconvinced. "Oh, yeah? You're setting me up now?"

Harry smirked. "I wouldn't call it setting you up, exactly. Just... introducing two very attractive, very cool people who happen to be single."

"Uh-huh. Sure." You rolled your eyes. "I’m not looking for anything, Collett."

"Who said anything about looking?" He leaned back smugly. "Besides, it's Tom. Just meet him. No pressure."

And that was how you found yourself at a small get-together, standing in Harry’s kitchen, wine glass in hand, when you first met Tom Taylor.

He was leaning against the counter, chatting with a couple of mutual friends, his blonde hair catching the dim light, gray eyes sharp and observant. The first thing you noticed was how tall he was. The second was the effortless charm in the way he smiled, soft and easy, like he had all the time in the world.

Harry, ever the dramatic one, clapped a hand on Tom’s shoulder. "Tom, meet Y/N. Y/N, meet Tom." He grinned like he was presenting a masterpiece. "Now, go ahead. Fall in love or whatever."

You groaned. "Oh my God, Harry."

Tom chuckled, tilting his head as he looked at you. "So, you’re the infamous Y/N?"

"And you’re the apparently life-changing Tom Taylor?"

He smirked. "Depends on who you ask."

Despite yourself, you laughed. And that was all it took.

The night carried on, and you found yourself gravitating toward him. He was funny—witty in a way that made conversation easy. You teased him about being Harry’s golden boy, and he gave it right back, calling you Collett’s partner-in-crime. At some point, Harry wandered off, looking smug as ever, leaving the two of you deep in conversation.

By the time you left, Tom had your number, and you had a very suspicious feeling that Harry had been right.

---

Things didn't happen immediately.

Sure, there was flirting—lots of it. Late-night texts, lingering glances, little touches that lasted longer than necessary. It was frustratingly slow, a dance of almosts and not-yets, but it was addicting.

Then, one night, after too many stolen moments and too much unresolved tension, it happened.

Tom kissed you.

And it was everything—deep and slow and intentional, like he had been holding himself back for too long and just couldn’t anymore.

From that moment on, it was done. You were his. He was yours. Simple as that.

---

Harry found out immediately.

Because of course he did.

You and Tom had barely made it official when Harry burst into your apartment, practically yelling with excitement.

"I knew it!" he announced, grinning like a madman. "I told you! I am a literal matchmaking genius!"

Tom groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. "Oh, for fuck’s sake."

You crossed your arms, raising a brow. "And what exactly do you want, Collett? A medal?"

"I want the recognition I deserve, thank you very much." He flopped onto your couch, looking entirely too smug. "I am the reason neither of you are still pathetically single. I should be in both your wedding vows."

Tom rolled his eyes, but you could see the amused twitch of his lips. "You really think we would’ve never met without you?"

"Oh, you definitely wouldn’t have," Harry said matter-of-factly. "I set the whole thing in motion. That makes me the unsung hero of your relationship."

You glanced at Tom, who was already looking at you, biting back a laugh. Then, without a word, you both turned to Harry and, in perfect sync, said, "Thank you, Harry."

His eyes lit up. "See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?"

Tom threw a pillow at him.

Harry, in all his self-proclaimed matchmaking glory, simply grinned.

[alewritesfics]

Shadows of us

Pairing: Modern!Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Word count: 3.7k

Warning: unedited, mention of sex, idk what else

Masterlist

The first time you met Anthony Bridgerton was at a charity gala. The event was suffocating—an extravagant show of wealth and power where you felt like you didn’t belong. You’d only gone because your best friend insisted, claiming it would be a good place to make connections. You hadn’t expected that connection to be Anthony.

He found you lingering by the bar, drinking a glass of champagne and trying to avoid eye contact with the socialites surrounding you, when he approached.

“You don’t seem like you want to be here,” he said smoothly, his deep voice somehow managing to drown out the chatter around you.

You raised an eyebrow, offering a small smile. “Was it that obvious?”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “To someone who feels the same way? Yes.”

The conversation flowed effortlessly after that. Anthony was charming in a way that didn’t feel forced. He was intelligent, funny, and far too handsome for his own good, as well as witty, and surprisingly down-to-earth for someone with his reputation. God, you already sound like a lovesick woman. By the end of the night, he asked for your number, and you, despite your better judgment and the warning bells ringing in the back of your mind, telling you that it was too good to be true and he would only end up breaking your heart, you gave it to him.

You knew who he was, a powerful CEO from a family of wealth and influence that dated back to the 1900s, old money. Was there even a person on earth who didn’t know who Anthony Bridgerton was?

One of the youngest CEO’s to exist at only 29 years old, as well as the youngest person ever to inherit his family’s company when his father died when he was 18. He was also considered one of the most eligible bachelors, considering he was as handsome as he was rich, meaning, a lot.

And you’d be stupid to turn him down.

The first few months with Anthony were intoxicating. He was attentive, passionate, and impossibly romantic. He whisked you away to exclusive restaurants, sent you flowers for no reason, and made you feel like the only woman in the world.

(And the sex was amazing but nobody needed to know that.)

But there were also rules.

Anthony never took you to public places where you might be photographed. He avoided introducing you to his family. Seriously! You both even came across his mother and brother, Colin, on a trip to Paris, and acted like you were his new secretary and you just brushed it off, thinking he wanted the relationship to be private, not wanting his family to smother him with questions.

The soft hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses filled the elegant Parisian restaurant, creating a warm and intimate atmosphere. You and Anthony sat at a secluded table by the window, the Eiffel Tower shimmering in the distance. The city of love had never felt more fitting. 

Anthony reached across the table, his fingers brushing against yours. “I’ve always wanted to bring you here,” he said, his voice low and filled with affection. “Paris suits you.” 

You smiled, feeling your cheeks warm. “How so?” 

“Because it’s beautiful, enchanting, and impossible to forget,” he replied smoothly, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand.  “Just like you” he grinned

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “That’s a line if I’ve ever heard one.” 

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t make it any less true.” 

Moments like this made everything feel worth it—the stolen kisses, the late-night rendezvous, the quiet moments where it was just the two of you. In Paris, the world seemed to shrink, leaving only the two of you in your little bubble of happiness. 

The waiter arrived with your desserts, a delicate crème brûlée for you and a rich chocolate mousse for Anthony. You picked up your spoon, ready to dive in, when Anthony suddenly stiffened in his seat. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked, noticing the change in his demeanor. 

His eyes darted to the entrance of the restaurant, his grip tightening on the tablecloth. “It’s… my mother and Colin.” 

You froze, your spoon hovering over your dessert. “What?” 

“They just walked in,” he said, his voice low and tense. He leaned forward, his expression urgent. “Y/n, they can’t know about us.” 

Your stomach twisted uncomfortably. “Anthony—” 

“Please,” he interrupted, his voice almost pleading. “Not here. Not now. Just… follow my lead, okay?”  you nodded, thinking that he just still wanted to keep the relationship private.

Before you could respond, Anthony stood abruptly, pulling his chair closer to yours so you were sitting side by side. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, leaning in as if he were pointing out something outside the window. 

You stiffened under his arm, your heart pounding in your chest. You hadn’t expected this. But as much as you hated it, you nodded, forcing a smile onto your face as if nothing was amiss. 

“Anthony!” Violet’s warm voice cut through the restaurant, and you turned to see her approaching with Colin in tow. She was radiant as always, her eyes lighting up when she spotted her eldest son. 

“Mother,” Anthony greeted her with a smile, though you could feel the tension radiating from him. “What a surprise. I didn’t know you and Colin would be stopping by Paris on your tour."

“It’s wonderful to see you,” she said, giving him a quick hug before turning her attention to you. “And who is this lovely young woman?” 

“This is Y/n,” Anthony said smoothly, his hand slipping from your shoulders to rest on the back of your chair. “A… friend of mine. We met through mutual acquaintances.” 

“A pleasure to meet you, Y/n,” Violet said warmly, extending her hand. 

“The pleasure is mine,” you replied, shaking her hand and forcing a polite smile. You’ve always dreamed of meeting your mother in law, dreaming of how sweet she would be. But now that you are, you just feel horrible.

Colin stepped forward, his boyish grin making you feel slightly at ease. “Anthony’s friends are usually dull business types, but you seem much more interesting.” 

“Colin,” Anthony warned, shooting his brother a sharp look. 

“What?” Colin said innocently, shrugging. “I’m just making an observation.” 

 Violet chuckled, patting Colin’s arm. “Oh, don’t mind him. He’s always been incorrigible.” She turned back to you with a curious smile. “So, Y/n, what brings you to Paris?” 

You hesitated, glancing at Anthony for guidance. 

“She’s here for work,” Anthony answered quickly, cutting in before you could speak. “We happened to cross paths and decided to catch up.” 

Your stomach sank at his words. Catch up? You weren’t just someone he was catching up with—you were supposed to be someone he loved. 

Violet nodded, seemingly satisfied with his explanation. “Well, it’s lovely to see Anthony with someone so charming. I do hope you’re enjoying Paris.” 

“I am,” you said, your smile feeling more forced by the second. 

After a few more pleasantries, Violet and Colin excused themselves, leaving you and Anthony alone once more. 

As soon as they were out of earshot, Anthony exhaled a shaky breath, leaning back in his chair. “That was close.” 

You stared at him, your chest tightening with a mix of anger and hurt. “Close? Is that all you have to say?” 

He frowned, his brow furrowing. “Y/n, what’s wrong?” 

“What’s wrong?” you repeated, your voice low and trembling with emotion. “I just had to pretend to be a random acquaintance in front of your mother and brother, and you’re asking me what’s wrong?” 

“Y/n, you know the situation,” he said, his tone defensive. “I can’t just tell them—” 

“Why not?” you interrupted, your voice rising slightly. “Why can’t you tell them? Why can’t you tell anyone? You said you wanted to keep it private but this is just excessive! Just tell me why.” 

“ It’s complicated,” he said, his tone firm. “You knew that when we started this.” 

You looked away, blinking back the tears threatening to form. “I didn’t know it would feel like this. Like I’m some dirty little secret you’re ashamed of.” 

“Y/n, that’s not fair,” he said, his voice softening. “You know I care about you.”

“Do you?” you asked, your voice cracking. “Because right now, it feels like I’m just a convenient distraction. Someone you're with just as a passing time.” 

Anthony reached for your hand, but you pulled it back, shaking your head. The atmosphere had shifted, the warmth of the evening replaced by an icy tension that left you questioning everything. 

The Eiffel Tower sparkled in the distance, but for the first time, it felt hollow—like a promise unfulfilled.

You later forgot that encounter, opting to ignore the signs, convincing yourself that he was just a very, very private man. But eventually, the truth came out.

It happened during a heated argument after you’d pressed him on why he was so secretive. Again.

“You want to know why?” he snapped, pacing the length of your small living room. His frustration was palpable, and it became harder and harder to hide the truth.

“Yes, Anthony! I deserve to know why you’re hiding me like some dirty little secret!” You exclaimed

He stopped pacing, running a hand through his hair before turning to face you. “Because I’m engaged.”

The words hit you like a physical blow. You stared at him, your mind struggling to process what he’d just said. “You’re… engaged?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper, your heart beating faster.

“It’s not what you think,” he said quickly, stepping closer. “It’s an arrangement—an expectation from our families. It’s not about love.”

You took a step back, shaking your head. “And you didn’t think to tell me this before?”

“I didn’t want to lose you,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “Y/n, you’re the only thing in my life that feels real.”

He approached you “I don’t love her, baby” he grabbed your hands, looking you in the eyes, desperate. “please, believe me”

You swallowed, before you nodded. He sighed in relief, pulling you into a tight hug, burying his face on your hair, breathing in deeply.

Despite your better judgment, you stayed. You told yourself it was temporary, that he’d leave her for you eventually. But as days turned into weeks and then turned into months, the reality of your situation became harder to ignore.

The heavy silence In Anthony’s bedroom pressed against your chest, suffocating in its intensity. You stood by the window, staring out at the sprawling estate before you. Anthony’s ancestral home was beautiful—timeless in its elegance, the kind of place you could see yourself calling home one day. But that dream, like so many others, was slipping further and further out of reach.

You turned to face him, your heart pounding as the words you’d been rehearsing all day threatened to spill out. Anthony was seated on the edge of the bed, his sleeves rolled up, his tie undone, exuding a kind of effortless charm that had once made you feel special. Now, it only hurt.

“How much longer will this go on for?” you asked, your voice quiet but firm.

Anthony looked up at you, his brow furrowed in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

You gestured toward the bedside table, where a photo of Kate Sharma sat in a delicate silver frame. It was a picture of her smiling, radiant and confident. The kind of woman who belonged in this world. The kind of woman Anthony was expected to marry.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and met his gaze. “End it with her.”

His eyes softened with something you could only describe as regret, but he didn’t move. He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. “Y/n… you know I can’t do that. It’s complicated.”

“Complicated?” you repeated, your voice rising despite your efforts to stay calm. “What’s so complicated about choosing the person you love? Or do you not love me?”

“You know I love you,” he said, standing up, his tone laced with frustration. “This isn’t about love. It’s about family, business—things that are bigger than you and me.”

“Bigger than us?” you echoed, taking a step closer to him. “Nothing should be bigger than us, Anthony. Not if you love me the way you say you do.”

He exhaled sharply, turning away from you. “It’s not that simple, Y/n.”

“It is that simple!” you snapped, the tears you’d been holding back finally spilling over. “You’re choosing her, Anthony. Every single day that you stay with her, you’re choosing her over me.”

He turned back to you, his expression pained. “I’m not choosing her. I’m trying to do what’s right for everyone.”

“What about what’s right for me?” you demanded, your voice breaking. “What about what’s right for you? Or are we just collateral damage in your quest to keep the company above everything else?” He didn’t respond, and the silence was deafening.

You took a shaky breath, your hands trembling as you wiped at your cheeks. “If you won’t leave her… then let me go.”

“No,” he said immediately, stepping closer to you. His voice was firm, almost panicked. “You’re not leaving me, Y/n. I can’t lose you.”

“You already have,” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of your words.

“Don’t say that,” he pleaded, reaching for your hands. “Don’t do this.”

You pulled away from him, shaking your head. “I won’t be your mistress, Anthony. I can’t keep pretending that this is enough when it’s killing me inside.”

“You know how the situation is, you’ve known since we started whatever we’re doing” Anthony stated, his eyes flickering between yours desperately, looking for a sign that you’re lying, that you don’t want to leave him “Ever since we I told you the truth, I can’t help but feel like you’re trying to find every reason possible to leave me…..Are you tired of me now? You don’t love me anymore?”

You shook your head as you sniffled “I love you Anthony. I am completely in love with you but I can’t keep on hurting myself anymore” you pulled your hands out of his, you swallowed the lump forming in your throat, your tears threatening to spill over. “I can’t do this anymore, Anthony. I love you. But I can’t, and I won’t, keep on waiting for you to love me back.”

“You want to know why I’m leaving?” you asked, your voice trembling. “It’s not because I don’t love you. God, Anthony, I love you so much it hurts. But I can’t keep breaking my own heart waiting for you to love me back the way I need you to -”

“I do!” Anthony cut you off “I do love you, I do need you. I need you more than anything”

“Then why won’t you leave her?” you cried. “Why didn’t you introduce me to your family when we ran into them in Paris? Why do you keep hiding me?” Anthony didn’t answer but his silence was louder than any words he could have spoken.

“It’s over, Anthony” you sniffled as you wiped your eyes “ I can’t bear to stand in the sidelines and watch as you form a family with her, as you love her-“

Anthony’s head snapped up, panic flashing in his eyes. “Y/n—”

You shook your head, stepping back from him. “It’s over, Anthony. I can’t keep doing this to myself.”

His hand shot out to grab yours, holding on tightly as if he could stop you from leaving. “Please, don’t do this. I’ll fix it. I’ll figure something out.”

“You had three years to figure it out,” you said, your voice steady despite the tears streaming down your face. “And you didn’t.”

Anthony stayed silent

After a few moments of agonizing silence, you pursued your lips before sighing. Without waiting for a response, you pressed a trembling kiss to his cheek and walked out of the room.

 

The weeks that followed were some of the hardest of your life. Anthony called you incessantly, leaving voicemails that you couldn’t bring yourself to listen to. He even showed up at your apartment once, but you refused to let him in.

You tried to move on, throwing yourself into work and spending time with friends. But nothing could fill the void he’d left behind.

For Anthony, life was equally unbearable. The engagement with Kate continued, but his heart wasn’t in it. He couldn’t stop thinking about you—your laugh, your smile, the way you’d looked at him with tears in your eyes that night.

It was a rainy afternoon when you saw him again. You were tucked into the corner of your favorite café, a steaming cup of tea in front of you and a book open in your lap. The sound of the door chime barely registered until someone approached your table. 

“Y/n.” 

Your head snapped up, and there he was. Anthony. Soaked from the rain, his suit clinging to his broad frame, his hair disheveled in a way you’d never seen before. He looked… desperate. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended, you sat up, closing your book and crossing your arms, as if to protect yourself from the inevitable heartbreak you know he will bring again

“I had to see you,” he said, his voice rough. He sank into the chair across from you before you could tell him to leave. 

You stiffened, your hands gripping the edge of your book. “Anthony, You shouldn’t be here.”  You looked away, knowing that if you looked at him any longer, you would cave in.

“I ended it,” he blurted out, leaning forward, his dark eyes locking onto yours. 

Your stomach dropped, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “What?” 

“I ended the engagement,” he repeated, his voice firmer this time. “It’s over. Kate and I are done.” 

You blinked, your mind struggling to process his words. “Why?” 

“Because I couldn’t marry her,” he said, his tone filled with conviction. “Not when my heart belongs to you.” 

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. You shook your head, leaning back in your chair. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“Y/n, I’m serious,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ve thought of nothing else since you left. I can’t—I won’t lose you again.” 

“You already lost me, Anthony,” you shot back, your voice colder than you felt. “You made your choice when you stayed with her for three years. You don’t get to come here now and think a few words will fix this.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I mean it,” he said, desperation creeping into his tone. “I’ll beg if I have to.” 

You scoffed, looking away. “Begging won’t change what happened. Do you have any idea what you put me through? Do you know how many nights I stayed up wondering why I wasn’t enough for you? Why you always hid me from the world?” 

“You were always enough,” he said, his voice soft and raw. “You were more than enough, Y/n. I was the one who wasn’t enough. I was a coward.” 

You clenched your jaw, refusing to let the tears threatening to form fall. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to waltz in here, expecting me to forgive you just because you decided to grow a conscience.” 

“I don’t expect forgiveness,” he said, his voice trembling. “I just… I couldn’t let you think for one second that I didn’t love you. That I don’t love you.” You froze, his words cutting through your defenses like a knife. 

“I love you, Y/n,” he continued. “I’ve loved you from the moment I met you, I’ve loved you ever since I saw you in that beautiful navy blue dress at the gala. I’ve loved you ever since you told me your name. I’ve loved you ever since I first kissed you underneath the moon on that rainy night, and I will spend every day proving it to you if you’ll let me. Please, just give me a chance to make this right.” 

You looked away, your heart hammering in your chest. You wanted to believe him, to let yourself hope, but the memory of the pain he caused was too fresh. 

“Why now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Why did it take losing me for you to finally do the right thing?” 

“Because I was an idiot,” he admitted, his hands gripping the edge of the table as if he were holding on for dear life. “I thought I could have both— I don’t mean that I’ve ever loved Kate, I just– I thought I could keep you without giving up everything else. Have you and evolve my company. But when you walked out that door, I realized nothing else mattered. Not the company, not my family’s expectations, nothing. None of it means anything without you.” 

Your breath hitched, but you forced yourself to stay firm. “Words aren’t enough, Anthony. You hurt me.” 

“I know,” he said, his voice cracking. “And I will never forgive myself for that. But I can’t let you go without trying. I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust again. Anything.” 

You stared at him, your walls cracking under the weight of his sincerity. For the first time, you saw the man beneath the polished exterior—the man who was terrified of losing you, who was willing to fight for you. 

“I don’t know if I can trust you again,” you said honestly, your voice trembling. 

“Then let me show you,” he said, leaning forward, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Please, Y/n. Let me prove to you that I’m worth the risk.” 

You hesitated, your heart and mind warring with each other. Finally, you let out a shaky breath. “This is your last chance, Anthony. If you hurt me again, I’m gone for good.” 

Relief washed over his face, and he reached across the table to take your hand. “I won’t hurt you again. I swear it.” 

You let him hold your hand, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt through you. Deep down, you wanted to believe him. Maybe, just maybe, this time would be different. 

 

[zoniteillusion-pyritedreams]

Could you do how Heeseung acts and peruses his crrush too?☢️☢️☢️☢️

“How Heeseung Acts When He Has a Crush... The Tarot Files ft. Aphrodite’s Hot Tea”

Okay babes, so I lit a pink candle, spritzed some rose water and Chanel #5, called on Aphrodite with my softest voice, and pulled cards to ask:

“What does Heeseung do when he’s got a crush?”

The tea? PIPING. Let’s break this down like a teen girl writes a diary entry with a glitter pen and semi unhinged energy.

Phase 1: Internal Chaos and Denial

Cards: 8 of Pentacles reversed, Moon reversed, Knight of Wands reversed, 9 of Wands reversed

Heeseung? Trying to act unbothered, but he’s out here spiraling lowkey. He might slack off in other areas when the feelings hit suddenly can’t focus, suddenly daydreaming too much. He overthinks, second-guesses if it’s real or just a fleeting attraction, and maybe even pulls back a little just to “protect his peace.”

(Spoiler: it's not working. Sir is to deep in and spiraling like a ballerina spinning.)

Phase 2: The Spark Awakens

Cards: Page of Wands, Ace of Wands, Magician

OH! But once he decides he’s into it for real and stops running away?

Flirt mode: ACTIVATED

He’s cheeky, energetic, and lowkey bold. You’ll catch him sending flirty eye contact, dropping hints, joking just a little too often but still keeping control of the narrative. He’s got charm, talent, and timing and he knows how to use it.

Phase 3: Okay But What If I Mess It Up?

Cards: Tower reversed, 5 of Cups reversed, 6 of Wands

Just when you think he’s confident all the way? BOOM! Internal emo boy shows up.

Heeseung definitely gets hit with the “what if I ruin everything?” wave. There’s a fear of rejection or awkwardness that makes him soft-pedal his pursuit. But if he sees a green light from you? Oh he’s stepping up like it’s a k-drama confession scene.

Phase 4: Soft Boy Sentiment Unlocked

Cards: 6 of Cups, Page of Cups, The Emperor

He wants to Build Something Real, not just a fling. He’s nostalgic, romantic, and probably writes secret lyrics about you. When he’s really falling? He turns protective, thoughtful, and emotionally invested. He tries to stay composed ( Down bad Husband material alert) but you’ll see that little sparkle of boyish sweetness in the way he teases you or remembers tiny details.

Overview of ; “Heeseung When He Likes You”:

Pretends he’s chill but spirals silently.

Flirts like a witty golden retriever with poetic undertones.

Worries it’ll all fall apart but still risks it if he feels hope.

Turns into a soft romantic nerd with leader energy and baby deer eyes.

Heesung is low key whipped before he even dates you if you catch his eye. This man is soft boi hours trying to be a nonchalant cool guy. He's testing the waters but never making the moves super obvious. Instead he's more of the scoping out the playing field. Would probably also end up using mutual friends or members to sit there and fish around just to make sure that you're not interested in somebody else and if you are. He's going to sit there and definitely try to be even cooler than that person or what he perceives as why you might like them.

It's very much giving that this man probably sits there and paces around the room at night while holding his phone and has the notes apps open. Has noted down every little thing that you've done that he likes but also sat there and noted down every little thing that he did that he thinks might make him seem weird or too desperate or like he actually likes you. It's very much giving definition of like loser in a hot guy's body. He kind of turns into an adorable soft boy nerd when he likes someone but he'll never show it and he doesn't want them to know it so it's consistently sitting there and trying to be like

"Oh no I am saying this because everyone wants it and not because I just happened to remember that this was your favorite coffee order and I just bought it for you and then thought of everyone else afterwards which is why everyone else has basic coffee and you have your matcha Thai latte with vanilla coconut milk cold foam and the chocolate drizzle on top. I totally did not sit there and memorize that at all not even a little bit."

He kinda just cute. His cool guy persona seems to completely dissolve when he catches feelings.

(Also is this a bit better or do y'all enjoy me making little. Personal notes in between the readings whenever I feel like it or should I just wait to the end to add all my thoughts let me know.)

[x-menfrag]

The air around Lilia Vanrouge always danced with an invisible energy, a whirlwind of youthful mischief and the untold wisdom of countless years. Her smile, often as sharp as the gleam of an ancient sword, could be both charming and slightly menacing. When her amethyst eyes rested on you, [Your Name], that duality intensified, weaving a unique and, in the eyes of many, unsettling bond.

Since your arrival at Night Raven College, Lilia had embraced you with an intensity that bordered on obsession, but which, to you, held a strangely comforting quality. You weren't blind to the worried glances of your classmates, to the whispers about their "overprotective" nature. But they didn't see what you did. They didn't understand the ancient fear that sometimes glimmered in her eyes, disguised as possessive jealousy.

Lilia wasn't simply a young student; she was an ancient being, whispers of forgotten ages dancing in her voice. She had seen the world change countless times, had lost countless loved ones to the inexorable march of time and the cruelty of fate. Her clinging to you, you realized over time, was not just a whim, but a deep need, a desperate attempt to hold on to something precious in a world that had taken everything before.

One evening, as you strolled through the maze-like garden, Lilia stopped suddenly, her grip on your hand tightening. "Do you know, my little swallow?" she began, her playful tone tinged with a dark undertone, "there are creatures in this world that would covet your light. Shadowy beings that would not hesitate to extinguish it."

You smiled gently, accustomed to her theatrical ramblings. "But you wouldn't allow it, would you, Lilia?"

Her smile widened, showing a flash of fangs. "Of course not. I would watch your every breath, thwart every shadow that tried to reach you. You are mine, do you understand? A treasure I have found after eons of darkness."

To others, this declaration might have been chilling, but you saw beyond the words. You sensed the vulnerability hidden behind his bravado, the palpable fear of loneliness. "I understand, Lilia," you replied, squeezing his hand. "And I also know that your caring comes from a good place."

He looked at you, his violet eyes deep and fathomless. "Sometimes... my nature is... intense. I can be... possessive. Others will warn you about me."

"They have," you admitted with a small laugh. "But I have also seen how you look at Malleus, the unwavering loyalty you feel for him. I know that your 'possessiveness' is simply your way of loving and protecting."

A trace of surprise crossed her face, before being replaced by a soft, almost childlike smile. "You are more astute than you appear, my child. You see through my facade."

"I always have," you replied. "And it doesn't scare me. In fact... it makes me feel safe."

Lilia sighed, a sound that carried with it the echoes of countless starry nights. "Never before has anyone... understood me like this. They've always feared me, or tolerated me because of my connection to the Young Master."

"You are more than that, Lilia," you said firmly. "You are witty, funny, and you have a heart, even if you sometimes hide it beneath layers of theatrics."

He laughed, a light laugh that fluttered through the hedges. "A heart... what a human concept." But his hand gripped yours tighter.

Over time, your acceptance of his yandere nature became a refuge for him. Instead of suppressing her protective instincts, you channeled them, allowing her to feel useful and needed. When you felt prying eyes or sensed potential danger, one glance was enough for Lilia to intervene, her smile becoming a silent warning.

It wasn't a perfect relationship. There were moments of tension, of unfounded jealousy on Lilia's part, of a need for space on your part. But you always found your way back to each other, bound by an unspoken understanding, by the certainty that, despite what the world might think, you belonged to each other.

And so, within the confines of Night Raven College, your peculiar love story blossomed. A story where possessiveness intertwined with protectiveness, where the fear of loss disguised itself as unwavering devotion, and where a young human woman let an ancient fae be, finding in his intensity not a prison, but a safe haven in an uncertain world.

[goldenflowers]

Oh and also the one that you really wanted to get asked according to your tags 😘

(this is for this ask game)

first of all thank you so much for giving me free reign to be annoying LMAO. i told you this in DMs already but i actually did try to come up with a concise answer here!! it's just that one of the questions on that list immediately made me want to answer it specifically for elenion because it's so layered and so core to him and it practically required me to write hundreds of words that also double as an OC lore dump 💙

and the question i'm talking about is...

[ 🫀 ]ㅤ who taught them what love is? did it hurt?

Elenion has learned and re-learned what love is multiple times over the course of his life.

The first time was when he was little and he realized just how much his parents loved each other, and how their love seemed intense and unshakeable, grand and mythic, yet soft as a fairytale. So Elenion never dated as a teenager living at home in Baldur's Gate. They had crushes, of course, but they didn't want to waste time on anything casual or fleeting—they wanted to love and be loved the way their parents did, as if it had been written in the stars, or not at all.

When they were 17 they learned that love is something painful and sacrificial that burns you up inside and out. He watched his father die right before his eyes, to save him from his own foolish mistake. If the world made any sense at all then they should've been the one who died. Instead their father left his wife heartbroken far too soon, and Elenion was certain it was their fault. But still, he dreamed of finding someone who would be willing to love him anyway.

When he was 18 and going to college at New Olamn, Elenion met a girl who seemed to love every part of him—or every part he let her see, at least. She loved the music he played, his witty jokes and flirtatious words, his long blond hair and his charming smile and passionate touch. But she also loved the way that they didn't ask much of her, and when their near-flawless mask happened to slip enough to show what was hiding underneath, she just told them not to be so dramatic.

His relationship with the boy he dated next went similarly, just as he'd known it would deep down. It taught them that love was a beautiful lie, fun to sing of in ballads and read epic tales about, but seemingly made up for that purpose—well, for most people anyway. He couldn't bring himself to believe that love was an illusion for everyone or it would mean what his parents had wasn't real. No, his parents had definitely been in love, and for that they were lucky. But love wasn't, couldn't be real for someone like him.

But still, even if love felt like a lie, being alone every night felt worse. So by the time they turned 21, Elenion had become the kind of person who always had someone new on their arm or in their bed. Love, he decided, was just another performance, something people acted out to stave off loneliness or boredom. And Elenion was happy to play the starring role. He had fun charming people, seducing them, whispering sweet nothings into the ears of everyone he laid with. Trading I-love-yous that neither of them really meant, while smiling as if he did. And if the other person didn't leave first, he would. Maybe that left him feeling a bit hollow sometimes, but why waste time chasing after real love, when for someone like him, it would always be fated to end the same way?

Finally, Elenion learned from Gale everything he wished he'd known about love all along. Love is something that sneaks up on you when you least expect it—or crashes into you from out of a mysterious, shady-looking portal. Love is something true and wonderful, and while it can feel grand and mythic and soft it can also be messy and confusing and terrifyingly vulnerable. Love is when you see someone—really see them, in all of their own messiness and their flaws and mistakes and pain—and choose to care for them all the same. Love is when you care for someone so much that you choose to let them see the fear and hurt you've spent your life trying to keep locked away, because you know they wouldn't want you to hide from them.

And love, he believes, is him and Gale continuing to teach each other these things every single day.

[whiteferraristurns]

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ ✶ angst?, no use of y/n. Matts perspective🖤

reblogs, likes and comments are so so appreciated!! Please don't copy or re use any of my work.

𝓑 ᝰ. I don’t know how to feel about this tbh

Matt couldn’t shake the image of you from his mind, no matter how hard he tried. He had moved on—or at least, that’s what everyone thought. Heather, his new girlfriend, was beautiful in the ways magazines advertised: soft blonde curls, an infectious laugh, and a warm, inviting presence. The kind of girl everyone noticed. She was kind, sweet, and everyone adored her. But no matter how much he tried to push you out of his thoughts, you lingered.

You had always been different, unpredictable, challenging in the best ways. Your relationship was full of intensity—fights, passion, and everything in between. But things ended. It wasn’t because of some big, catastrophic moment. You just fell apart, as many couples do when emotions run high, but love isn’t enough to keep the glue together.

Now, every time Matt looked at Heather, he saw everything she wasn’t. She didn’t have your fierce confidence, your witty comebacks, or the way your eyes sparkled with challenge when you two debated some random topic. Heather didn’t stir that fire in him the way you did. And yet, here he was, holding Heather’s hand, smiling at her in that comforting way he’d learned to master since the breakup, because it’s what everyone expected.

He saw you everywhere. When he went to the coffee shop you used to go to together, your presence seemed to loom over him like a shadow. Your favorite songs would play on the radio when he least expected them to, and each time it happened, his stomach would knot up, remembering how you’d hum the melody under your breath while drumming your fingers on the dashboard.

Tonight, though, was different. It was Heather’s birthday party. They were surrounded by friends—his friends, Heather’s friends. It was the kind of night that should’ve been perfect. But then you walked in.

You looked different, better somehow, even though it had only been a few months. Your hair was swept back in a casual but elegant way, and you wore a fitted black dress that hugged your curves just right. There was an air of confidence about you that hadn’t been there before. You looked…happy.

Matt couldn’t tear his eyes away, though he tried. He felt Heather’s hand tighten in his, and his eyes flicked down to her for a moment. Heather was talking to someone else, laughing at something that clearly wasn’t as funny as her smile made it seem. She didn’t notice the way Matt was staring at you, didn’t notice the weight that hung in the air as you made your way across the room.

When your eyes met, it was like time stopped. Your smile faltered for the briefest of seconds, and Matt’s heart twisted in his chest. It felt like you could see right through him, like you knew how much he regretted everything. But then, just as quickly, you smiled again, a little softer this time, and turned away, walking towards a group of friends across the room.

Matt felt rooted in place, torn between staying with Heather and chasing after you. But what could he even say? What right did he have to disrupt her your now? He had chosen this. He had chosen Heather.

As the night dragged on, Matt’s focus kept slipping. Heather’s laugh, once so sweet, felt hollow in his ears. Every time he glanced at you from across the room, he felt a pang of something deep and bitter—jealousy, regret, guilt.

He saw you talking to another guy, someone new. He was tall, effortlessly charming, and the way he looked at you made Matt’s chest tighten. He hated it. He hated that someone else could make you smile like that, that someone else could stand so close to you and make you laugh in that way that used to be just his.

But who was he to be jealous? He had Heather now, the girl who seemed to be perfect in every way. And yet, it wasn’t enough. You weren’t his anymore, but the sight of you with someone else felt like a punch to the gut.

Later in the night, Matt found himself alone for a moment, stepping outside to get some air. The cool breeze was a relief, a distraction from the suffocating weight of everything inside. He heard the door creak open behind him, and when he turned, he saw you.

For a second, neither of you said anything. You just stood there, the silence between you two thick with unspoken words.“You look good,” you finally said, your voice soft but steady.

“So do you,” Matt replied, though the words felt inadequate. He wanted to say so much more, but nothing seemed right.You crossed your arms, leaning against the railing, your eyes scanning the city lights. “Heather seems nice.”

Matt swallowed, feeling a lump form in his throat. “She is.” you nodded softly“Good. I’m glad,” you said, but there was something in your voice, a note of finality, that made his chest ache.

He turned to face you fully, his heart racing. “ you know I—” You shook your head, cutting him off gently. “Don’t, Matt. We made our choices.”

He felt a wave of frustration and sadness wash over him. He wanted to tell you how much he missed you, how he thought about you constantly, but the words wouldn’t come. And even if they did, what good would they do now?

You pushed yourself off the railing, giving him a small, bittersweet smile. “I should get back inside.”Matt watched you go, feeling the weight of everything they could’ve been slipping further away. Heather was still inside, waiting for him, but as you disappeared into the crowd, Matt realized that no matter how hard he tried, he’d never stop comparing everyone to you.

𝓑 ᝰ. Part two??

[dailyyooniex2]

YOON SI YOON – ARENA HOMME+ JULY 2016 INTERVIEW

After a long wait, Yoon Si-yoon’s interview for ARENA is out, at last! Too bad the magazine only shared small-sized images for the pictorial online, and I bet that there are lots of B-cuts they did not release :3 I guess we should be thankful that even with Mirror of the Witch coming to an end last week, we still get to see him every Sunday on 2 Days 1 Night. Enjoy the interview!

Yoon Si-yoon, No Matter What They Say

31-year old Yoon Si-yoon’s dream is, as always, an icon of hope.

The time gap between your discharge from army and your comeback was very short.

I really wanted to work. I was impatient. It was through working nonstop from my debut that I found myself and my own worth. It was like losing myself when I couldn’t work while I was doing my service in the military.

It must have been an unfamiliar time for you.

Yes, that’s right. I am a person who will feel comfortable planning things in advance; someone who will think and ask questions, putting effort instead of lazing around. Army service seemed to have suppressed that side of me.

Still, it feels that the person Yoon Si-yoon is even more apparent than before: someone who is intensely doing his own soul-searching.

That’s what I feel too. I’ve become clearer, in the sense that I try to thoroughly eliminate the parts that are not like myself and show the real me. It is easier to abandon and adopt them compared to before.

We would not ask what were the things you abandoned. What were the things you have adopted?

In the past, I would try to cover my flaws. But then, after getting into the professional world, I come to realize that it’s more important to turn those flaws into merits. Covering our flaws will actually make them even more glaring. Hence, my thoughts have changed. I adopted and fully embraced my flaws. I’d rather show different sides of me, including those I have never shown before.

2 Days 1 Night is a program with being tricky and stretched fun as its core. Now, you have created a rhythm that is totally different compared to the first time Yoon Si-yoon appeared on the show. The members even commented that you are a strange kid.

Haha. Am I really strange? Those unique people are actually saying that I am the strange one..

If we are to talk about Yoon Si-yoon’s attitude in variety program, it is kind of strange. Your usual kind of fun is different and rough, plus your funny parts do not feel ordinary. It has been a while since the last time we saw a healthy and positive character who throws in a few laughs on a variety program. I don’t really know if I’m really a healthy and positive person. I think that the word that describes me the best is ‘analog’. I’m simple like an old machine. My objective is simple and I really can’t be excessive. It’s also like that when it comes to romantic relationship and dating. I’m someone who can’t do sophisticated pickup lines.

You always say that you are not a refined person. You even mentioned in one interview that you are not someone who is fit to act out a refined character.

I certainly want to become an actor who can act well one day. But now, I think that saying I want to act well is an arrogant statement for myself. The best thing I can do at the moment is to show an acting without any lies. Only through that, people should get to know me, and I should try to find myself by brushing up the ‘me’ inside myself. That’s why, after brushing up myself, I find out what kind of person I really am. I’m still far from being a refined person.

Suddenly, words from High Kick Through the Roof‘s PD Kim Byung-wook come to our mind, “Yoon Si-yoon carried the gaze of a 1980s boy who falls in a one-sided love”.

Yes. If I am to fall in love again now, I will fall into that kind of feeling. Heo Joon’s character I portrayed in the drama Mirror of the Witch was exactly like that. He went back and forth even when he liked someone, and he didn’t really know what he should really do to make that person he liked happy.

Heo Joon became a wild playboy for a short moment in Mirror of the Witch. Is that image far from your real image?

Wah, no. Why did you think like that? Do you think I only play Korean shuttlecock game (jegichagi) to pass time?

Well, you do seem like you will pass time healthily.

To tell you the truth, that’s exactly what I do; each time I’m stressed out, I will go to comic store to read lots of comic books, watch movies, or visit art galleries to release my stress. That’s why I enjoyed acting out the wild Heo Joon. He was surrounded by and even buried under the ladies…haha!

Heo Joon is this kind of person who will throw himself out to be sacrificed for the sake of the person he loved. Is this close to your real self?

It’s close. I mean the point of loving someone wholeheartedly. But then, someone who loves like this is, in the end, longing to receive that kind of love from the person he loves. I’m neither a very selfless nor pure man; I’m just a lacking man. I wanted to convey Heo Joon’s shortcomings and his way of loving someone with sincerity. Giving his all, wishing that the person he loved would never leave his side; that kind of love.

Isn’t that the most basic form of love?

You’re right. That’s the form of love that I do. Hence, I wanted to express that image through Mirror of the Witch.

Your drama comeback through Mirror of the Witch as Heo Joon is like having you stand up and declare that you are acting as your own self.

I didn’t view Mirror of the Witch as a historical drama. To me, it was just a fantasy drama. Fantasy is a fiction with the freedom to tell any kind of story. There is no restriction on how the story will go on. It is a good place for an actor to find answers by himself and having faith in the story as he goes on. 

Although it was a fantasy drama, the viewers acquired a sense of reality from the drama through the characters portrayed by Yoon Si-yoon and Kim Sae-ron. 

Both (Kim) Sae-ron and I are gifted with brightness to our image. Conversely, no matter how heavy and dark it was; no matter how hard it was to save the characters in the story…either way, we both carried unique colours thanks to that brightness. Mirror of the Witch‘s story line was sad and dark. Even when the characters were driven deep into the darkness, our brightness and the light through our characters’ relationship in the drama made the drama more vivid. That seemed to be the roles entrusted to me and Sae-ron in the drama. The director said that he fully entrusted the role to me, believing that I would be able to express my real feelings through the drama. ‘Do it just like what you’re thinking. Your words are right.’ That was what he said. Those words gave me great strength.

Do you still think that a project that is warm in people’s eyes suit you the best? Could it be that the reason for it was because of the image public associates you with?

I want to live as someone who is seen as and associated with warmth. Hence, I’m putting more effort to become a warm person. The inclination to do projects seen as warm is actually the dream of human Yoon Si-yoon as an actor. Human is the most interesting thing in the world to me, and human is the warmest thing in the whole world.

That is something we have not heard for a long while. No, I think it is the first time we heard something like that – human is the warmest thing.

Human can be the seeds of conflict too. But then, I believe that the answer and solution to the conflict is within the human too.

In the past, there was this dream which you had as an actor. You wanted to become the keyword for hope. We want to ask: do you think that having such a positive and healthy outlook will enable you to conquer the world? Do you truly believe that?

Hope is, in my opinion, when we have our respective roles in our own lives but we still live with beautiful minds. Even when life doesn’t go well, I wish that with significant thoughts, it will be a source of hope to conquer the world. Have you seen the movie Inside Out? Isn’t it the most beautiful thing to see different emotions – happiness, anger, sadness – all mixed up in one’s life? I wish I could express it again and again that all lives matter and equally beautiful, especially through dramas.

Since when you changed into this firm person you are today?

Only my words are firm; I am still very green, full of anxiety, terror, sadness, fear, and dread. I worry for my next project and then worry about saying wrong things. Nowadays, I’ve come to realize some things, little by little. At one point, when you start to act according to what you’re aware of, isn’t that the moment you will become a real adult?

Where do you think you are at this point in the whole life as Yoon Si-yoon?

Right now..just like I’m done with warming up? At the moment of yelling out ‘Okay, good. Now, let’s go!’ I’m at the point where I have stretched my body to find out exactly what I can and cannot do. For instance, these days, I have decided to show properly the countrified side of me. I’m really a countrified person. I’m unnecessarily serious and I would be serious like that even when I’m meeting women. I wish I can be smooth at making jokes.

(Source~)

💜💜💜💜💜

[ki-yomii]

give it to me | myg

➥ pairing | min yoongi x f!reader

➥ word count | 1.6k

➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), praise kink, teasing, against the wall, dom!yoongi, established relationship, pet names

➥ summary |  of course, it’s as you resign yourself to never getting dicked down by one min yoongi (after flashing him your whole bare ass) that the tides turn in your favor.

➥ notes | man’s is amazing at oral, and you cannot convince me otherwise.

💚 masterlist | inbox | AO3 💚

Min Yoongi is unlike anyone you’ve ever dated; always plays the gentleman, eyes and hands kept at a respectful level, albeit unafraid to taunt and tease.

The rest of the boys (mainly Jin) gag at how sickeningly sweet he is towards you, how he lights up the moment you step into the room, all gummy smile and scrunched eyes.

Completely besotted, he is - but then again, so are you.

What he lacks in stature and muscle, he more than makes up for in looks and personality. From the dark halo of hair constantly falling into his eyes, and the plush pout of his lips to a jawline for days; sometimes it hurts to even look at him.

Sassy and savage, witty and wild. Yoongi’s aura practically screams: fuck around, find out.

Yet around you, he’s kitten soft.

The best boyfriend you’ve had by miles: buys you gifts just because he was thinking about you, makes you laugh until you cry, takes care of your needs without ever having to be asked.

You click in such a fundamental way you’ve never experienced before - the chemistry and synergy palpable whenever you’re together.

God, he’s so sweet and earnest and charming. 

You’re a total goner… but you can’t help being slightly disappointed.

It makes you feel terrible to admit but you’ve been dating for almost a year, and you’ve been more than ready to kick the relationship up to the next level half a century ago.

Yoongi’s kept everything strictly above the waist (exactly the opposite of what you want).

It’s not because he’s not interested either. Most of the time his cock’s digging into your ass, half-hard and throbbing.

Though every time you finally think, “this is it,” when he starts getting really into it, he pumps the breaks.

Any further advances on your part are met with a tight albeit patient smile, a quick kiss to the forehead, and the mildly hilarious image of Yoongi awkwardly waddling to the bathroom.

Leaving you riled up and alone - again.

Before long you’re going to start taking it personally. You can’t even get off on your own anymore.

Don’t remember the last time you actually had a satisfying orgasm instead of just going through the motions.

Your hands stopped working ages ago, and forget trying to use a dildo. All past attempts at self pleasure have ended pathetically, leaving you hollow and sad.

Honestly, it’s not worth the effort because at the end of the day, nothing compares to the touch of another person - to him.

To the tang of salt on your tongue, the glide of skin on skin, the deep pulses that go straight to your toes.  And there’s no replicating that on your own.

You’re so pent up you can’t even look at him when he clenches his jaw or twirls a pen anymore lest you risk embarrassing yourself. Frankly, it’s getting a little ridiculous.

And there’s no escaping the dreams.

You’re convinced your imagination is a cruel, wild thing that loves torturing you.

Not a day goes by where you don’t wake up swollen and aching, desperate to be stuffed full of a cock you haven’t even seen let alone touched.

Of course, it’s as you resign yourself to never getting dicked down by one Min Yoongi - after flashing him your whole bare ass - the tides turn in your favor.

As he drops you off after your date, and you lean in to kiss him goodbye, he pivots and suddenly, you find yourself pinned face-first to the wall.

He’s surprisingly stronger than you give him credit for.

“Thought you were being funny, didn’t you?”

Calloused fingertips drag along the care skin of your thigh, tugging at the dangerously high hem of your dress. The silky material catches on Yoongi’s skin, the flighty touches a punch to the face as a pit yawns into existence deep in your belly.

You stare straight ahead, your teeth chewing on your bottom lip. “No,” you say.

While you can’t see his expression, the low growl of his voice is full of barely leashed hunger. You test the give in his grip, only to find yourself thoroughly caught.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Like hell you don’t,” Yoongi says. 

An amused sound rumbles up from the back of his throat as he inches your dress up slowly. You wiggle, a quiet hiss escaping when the cool air dances over the slick clinging to your inner thighs. A flush of heat creeps into the apples of your cheeks.

“What did you think was going to happen, huh?” He tsks. Soft lips brush the shell of your ear. “What, exactly, were you hoping I’d do?”

You breathe, “Yoongi, I…”

With his chest a line of heat against your back, and the deep timbre of his voice low in your ear, it’s hard to form words. You swallow rough, mouth bone dry and stomach swooping.

This is all you’ve ever wanted, and now that you have it, you don’t know what to do with yourself.

“Hm, you what, pretty girl?” A broad palm squeezes between your hip and the wall, cupping your mound and grinding down over the top of your slit. “Was this what you were hoping for?”

God, he’s such a fucking tease.

You whimper, and your eyes slam shut as your pussy throbs once, twice. The friction of your thighs sliding together is eased by how fucking wet you are.

This is really not fair.

Yoongi’s barely touched you, and you’re already desperate to have him wreck you until you’re so thoroughly fucked you can’t move.

Shit.

In response, you tilt your hips back, and widen your stance, “Yoongi, please.”

Behind you, Yoongi exhales as you spread yourself open for him with your hands, exposing your pussy - soaked and swollen.

“Mm.” He hums, running the pad of a thumb along the crease where your ass meets your hip, up to teasingly flick at your oversensitive clit. “Is that what you want?”

“Y-Yoongi!”

Arching into the touch, you bite down on a broken whine. Heat flares to life in your belly, burning brighter as molten desire sweeps through you like a current.

It settles low, deep in your bones until you ache.

“Look at my pretty girl,” Yoongi squeezes your waist, and crouches low, “So soft and needy. Have I been neglecting you, baby?”

A nose drags up the back of your thigh, the heat of his breath puffing across your cunt with a sharp exhale. You jump, and feel yourself clench.

Yoongi groans in response, using his thumbs to test the soft fat of your ass as he takes over holding you open.

Your hands settle back on the wall beside your head, and you wait with baited breath.

“Mm, can smell how ready you are.”

Moist lips trace the back of your leg, open-mouthed kisses dropped onto the sensitive skin. Goosebumps prickle along your body, a shiver shooting down your skin.

Yoongi chuckles, “You’re absolutely fucking soaked - and it’s all for me. Can’t wait to get my tongue in you.” He groans, low-throated and hungry, when your hips jerk in response, pussy fluttering. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yoongi, please,” you beg, eyes damp and limps trembling.

Your cheeks burn and sweat gathers behind your knees, your nerves alight with electricity. You’re so turned on it hurts, your walls empty and aching for anything he’ll give.

“Do something, anything. I can’t take it anymore.”

“All you had to do was ask, baby.”

The only warning you get is a husky murmur of your name before Yoongi dives in, his broad palms grabbing rough handfuls of your ass as he flattens his tongue against you with a firm stroke, tracing the length of your cunt.

The tip spreads your folds, thrusting into you shallowly to tease at the sensitive ring of muscles before flicking up to swirl over the hood of your clit.

A loud keen rips its way out of your throat, lightening crackling down your spine. Legs tense, your hands reach back to yank at his hair while your hips rut against his face, desperately chasing after that incredible shock of pleasure.

“S-Shit, please don’t stop.” You moan helplessly, thighs shaking. You don’t know how much longer you’ll be able to stand if it’s this good already. “Hhah, oh god… Fuuuuck, that’s it, baby. Right there, right there!”

Yoongi pauses, ignoring your breathless protests as he tightens his grip to hold you in place while you squirm and whine. His breathing quickens, deepens.

He sounds so goddamn pleased when he speaks, “Mm, that’s the first time I’ve heard you moan like that.”

“Y-Yeah?” you ask, tripping over the words as your abandoned cunt pulses in time with your thundering heartbeat. “You like hearing me, baby?”

“You know I do.” Yoongi sighs, brushing a sloppy, sticky kiss over your inner thigh. “Sound so fuckin’ pretty for me.”

“Well, if you like it so much then maybe you should –”

You pitch forward, choking on your laugh as Yoongi bares down on you. Strong forearms lock around your hips, tugging you back onto his mouth.

Riled up, he sucks, licks in a frenzy.

And before long, his hands are the only thing holding you up as he devours you with greedy pulls of his lips and messy laps of his tongue.

“Shit, you taste so good,” Yoongi says, sucking your folds into his mouth before letting them go with a pop, “Wanna stay between these thighs for hours, make you my sloppy, slutty little mess. You’d like that, huh, baby?”

All you can do is whine, foggy headed and pleasure drunk.

“Yeah, you like it.”

[plutosunshine]

Your sense of humor

Mercury in Aries

Your sense of humor is straightforward and even edgy. You can kill people with your words. However, it makes you super funny. You like to be goofy and silly with friends. Your bold, open and honest style of communication adds charm to you. Your jokes are fast and this makes them even funnier because one of the main rules of good humor is a sudden fast joke. Everybody who has Aries Mercury!!! If you hide or suppress these talents, they will destroy you from the inside. You need to forward your sarcasm to the world, not inside yourself.

Mercury in Taurus

Mercury in Taurus is not as fast as Aries Mercury. However, it has its advantages. This Mercury has not a fast reaction but it doesn’t destroy its sense of humor. Your humor is so practical and precise that others can’t help but laugh. You are sarcastic and you know how to say something at right time. Sometimes people don’t expect a joke from you but it comes out and kills everybody. Did I mention sarcasm? Oh yes, I need to mention it again because omg Taurus Mercury owns it! Remember George Carlin? Yes, he is the owner of Taurus Mercury.

Mercury in Gemini

Gemini Mercury knows a little bit of every topic so your humor may depend on the person you are with. You adjust your sense of humor depending on the situation. Your humor is fast, optimistic and smart. Everyone thinks that you are witty and you were born to joke. You need to be appreciated for your humor. Also, you like to play with words and meanings. These jokes are easy to create for you. Your Mercury is in Gemini so people think you are so smart and know everything and sometimes they don’t notice that you don’t go that deep.

Mercury in Cancer

Cancer Mercury often has a very good memory so it affects the sense of humor. You can remember something nobody already does so you successfully use it to joke. Cancer Mercury natives rarely joke about their families. It is something sacred for them. You intuitively sense the mood of your surroundings and that helps you to be on the same wavelength as others. Your jokes are rarely offensive and others adore that about you. The only way you can insult somebody is when you don’t even understand that it is offensive. Usually, you don’t do that on purpose.

Mercury in Leo

Leo Mercury natives have very special facial expressions; they are artistic and unapologetically funny. If you have this Mercury, you MUST joke. It is your nature. You are a very good storyteller. Your expressions and even gestures color the story. Everybody understands your sense of humor. It is mostly optimistic and light-hearted. If the rest of the chart allows, you are the center of the party. Even if other planets are more introverted, you still need to express your talented Mercury. Maybe only in your friend's circle!

Mercury in Virgo

Here we go again, of course, earth = sarcasm. We can’t escape that. Your sense of humor is critical and detail-oriented. You notice little details and use them in your jokes. It impresses others because of the surprise effect. They don’t expect that somebody can notice such little things. Virgo Mercury natives are smart. They show it anytime and everywhere they go. Some people may think that you are even arrogant but it can be possible only if you don’t work with your Mercury. I advise you to read more because it will affect you so well and will improve your sense of humor.

Mercury in Libra

Your sense of humor is logical and soft. You don’t like offensive jokes (but watch out for Mercury-Mars aspects). You are diplomatic and even your jokes have this “not to offend anyone” attitude. That is why others love your humor so much. You talk politely and choose your words carefully. Libra Mercury has all the chances to be the queen/king of the party because of the wit, intelligence and “loving everybody” attitude. Depending on the rest of your chart, you have the potential to be a social butterfly.

Mercury in Scorpio

Of course dark humor. Humor that is not understood by everybody. You have a very special sense of humor. Most of the time you are sarcastic. This Mercury has a very interesting detail: when you joke, others often can’t understand if is it a joke or an insult. Also, Scorpio Mercury is very observant. Jokes may contain some not-pleasant observations of others. You see what other people hide behind their masks and joke very painfully about that. When you are with close friends, your humor is the best, they adore you.

Mercury in Sagittarius

Born entertainer! You tell stories like no other. With Leo Mercury of course. Your sense of humor is light-hearted, optimistic, straightforward and honest. Sometimes people laugh because of how sincerely and honestly you talk. You can talk about the topics everybody is afraid of. And you just don’t understand what is wrong. Sagittarius Mercury can be too straightforward at times and doesn’t see that someone is insulted. It is because of the careless nature of Sagittarius Mercury. And there is where your open and sincere sense of humor comes from.

Mercury in Capricorn

Of course, again it is sarcasm. However, if Virgo Mercury is more flexible, the sense of humor of Capricorn Mercury is drier. It is based on concrete facts and logic. Sometimes people don’t like the reality so it can be insulting. However, Capricorn Mercury is just no joke. It knows facts and jokes about them. Cynical and dry at times, but it is the nature of it!

Mercury on Aquarius

This one is considered a genius or crazy. No in between. Your sense of humor is unique and unusual so not everybody understands it. Of course, your friends’ circle adores you. Your jokes sometimes come out of nowhere all of a sudden. Unpredictability and uniqueness make your sense of humor unusual. You often use very random facts in your jokes. Your humor is creative, a little bit cosmic and not from this world.

Mercury in Pisces

Your sense of humor is creative and bright! You create such beautiful and unbelievable stories! Unbelievable is the key word here because let’s be honest you like to add some inexistent details to the story. That makes the story and your jokes more colorful! Also, you are the type of person who jokes like crazy at the party and all of a sudden you disappear and become silent. When you are in your “peopley” phase, you are the best entertainer but when you don’t feel it anymore, you just leave.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Hiiii I have a question!! Do you write for Nuidis Vulko from Aquaman? If not totally okay, but if you do I'd love it if you could write something with him and a surface dweller reader! Maybe they fall in love after she meets him through Arthur and they have to hide their relationship until Arthur becomes king of Atlantis?

Full disclaimer, I haven't watched a superhero movie in years. I know, I know, shame. Shame. Shame. Shame

But, I came up with this, and I hope you like it. Since NSFW was not requested, I will try to keep it as SFW as possible.

Pairing: Nuidis x Fem. Reader 

Word count: 1k words 

Themes: Soft | some Angst | Fluff 

Warnings: Mild NSFW (Blink and you might miss it)

Want to be tagged? Want to know the reader request rules? Read all here

If you like this, please consider giving it a reblog.

Nuidis was accompanying Arthur when the latter was meeting up with old college friends.

You were talking about a new echolocation device you were working on, and how it could be used in deep-sea exploration without harming other creatures like whales and dolphins. Nuidis is curious and asks more questions.

You admit you were stuck with fine-tuning the frequency.

He offers to help.

Nuidis would drop by every afternoon to help you. He'd listen to you talk of your time spent in college, about Arthur. about your own hopes and dreams. One such dream was to travel to the South Pole, just to see it, if nothing else.

Nuidis says he could take you one day if you wish. You just brush it off as polite talk.

The visits continued and evolved into more than just lab work and chit-chat.

You and Nuidis go out for coffee. The first time he had an espresso, Nuidis declared it the most interesting drink he had ever had. Then he proceeded to have several, while you tried desperately to stop him.

Nuidis didn't stop bouncing off the walls till the next morning. You had to keep him in your apartment because he kept bouncing off the walls till morning.

He then apologizes profusely for inconveniencing you the night before.

"I am most horrified by my behaviour. It will never happen again, y/n"

"Of course, it's not going to happen again. Because you're not going near coffee again."

After speaking to Arthur about the best way to make amends, Nuidis brings you a bunch of flowers the next day. You think it's very sweet.

He offers to take you out again, this time to make up for the great caffeine debacle. You accept.

He takes you to a quiet restaurant, where the two of you spend the evening talking about each other's lives. He's shocked to find out you already know about Arthur's Atlantean heritage, but at the same time, he's happy, as he can freely talk to you about his world. 

The two of you lose track of time, going from restaurants to little cafes to twenty-four-hour movie theaters, talking not just about work, but about everything. Nuidis realizes he has so much in common with you, like your shared love of history and languages. He'd bring you books from his own library, encouraging you to read them, and then questioning you after you have finished a chapter. 

You enjoy it, both the books and spending time with him. You find Nuidis to be a most fascinating man. And incredibly chivalrous and charming to boot. 

Nuidis finds himself quite taken by you, thinking you to be very witty and sweet and eager to learn.

Arthur sees what's happening even if the two of you are ignorant of it. He keeps quiet, thinking that the two of you need to figure it out on your own.

Nuidis starts to feel something, something that's more than just friendship, but he's afraid he could endanger you by getting too involved with you. Orm would never tolerate the union of a high-born Atlantean and a lowly surface dweller, and because of this, Nuidis keeps his feelings in check for now.

As time progresses, you start to feel something for Nuidis. He's the first thing on your mind when you wake up, and the last thing on your mind. You'd find yourself looking at him at the oddest moments, your cheeks turning bright red if he catches you. Nuidis finds this enchanting.

And then one evening, Nuidis brings you a gift for your birthday. It was of Atlantis, of how it was before it sank into the ocean, one that Nuidis made with his own hands. A secret button would make little holographic scenes come to life. You were so touched that you kissed him on the cheek. 

Nuidis swallows before finally caving in and kissing you squarely on the lips. 

The two of you stand there, he mortified, you stunned, and then you finally reciprocate by kissing him back. He ends up taking you to bed and making love to you for most of the night.

The two of you have to keep your relationship secret, as Orm still holds the title of crown prince and Arthur is trying to overthrow him. After Orm sends a giant wave to destroy surface-dwelling towns, Nuidis stays away for your own safety.

It's the worst time of his life, being away from you, but he knows it must be done. Orm was hunting down anyone even remotely connected to Arthur and his accomplices, and Nuidis didn't want you getting caught in the crossfire. 

You were miserable, thinking Nuidis just upped and disappeared. No one told you anything, not even Arthur. Not knowing what else to do, you moved back to a completely different state, to start over and try and forget about Nuidis and the past several months.

In the meantime, Nuidis had been helping Arthur win against Orm, and putting a stop to the war. The days bled into weeks, and weeks bled into months. But in the end, Arthur won, and no one knew where you had gone. 

Arthur helped Nuidis search for you, and when they did find you, the new king of Atlantis gave him his blessings.

"Do not mess this up," he says, as he gives something to his mentor.

Nuidis promises he won't.

One fine morning, you opened the door to your apartment, shocked to find who was standing on the other side.

"It took you long enough," you say bitterly.

Nuidis responds with the most heartfelt apology you've ever heard. One that tugged on all your heartstrings, as was the explanation that followed. Nuidis then shocks you even more by getting down on one knee, holding a little black box in his hand, and already opening it, exposing the jewel inside. 

You, between tears and laughter, managed to squeak out a yes.

[bucksfucks]

messing with a gemini | chris evans

gif credit.

SUMMARY || chris is a gemini, so you should expect nothing less than snide remarks, witty charm, and mind-blowing sex.

PAIRING || chris evans x reader

WORD COUNT || 1,902 words

WARNINGS || banter, teasing, cocky!chris, definite praise kink, light choking kink, chris goes down on the reader, fingering, oral, drinking, unprotected sex, both smutty, soft, and teasing — 18+ ONLY//MINORS DNI

NOTES || mmmmgmmgmgmgmgmg yeah

     The sound of the door shutting can only mean one thing.

    “Look what the cat dragged in,” you greet him, not turning around to face him.

    “Sweetheart if you don’t learn to shut that pretty little mouth of yours, I’ll do it for you.”

    Another snide remark, another sly smirk, and another roll of your eyes as Chris slides past you with a cup of tea in his hands.

    “You couldn’t make me if you tried.” You spat back, narrowing your eyes at him as you watched him quirk an eyebrow; intrigued at your comment.

    “Is that a challenge? Because you know I never back down from you.” He replies cooly, folding his arms over his chest before taking a sip of his hot drink.

    “Ah yes, how could I forget,” you feign enthusiasm, “you’re a Gemini.” You deadpan and now it’s his turn to roll his eyes.

    He kicks his foot off the wall behind him, “you didn’t answer my question, sweetheart.” He winks, brushing past your shoulder as you scoff.

    He’s gonna out of your sight before you have the chance to say anything else, letting out an exasperated sigh as you will yourself to calm down.

    “Hey!” Someone shouts through the trailer door, “can you run down to makeup for backup?” You don’t get to answer.

    “Thanks!”

    Before whoever it was slammed the door shut and you let out another frustrated groan.

    You knew what you signed up for, you weren’t head of makeup. You weren’t even assistant head. No, you were one of the nobodies.

    Someone they hire to run from one end of set to the other only to get yelled at for not having enough brushes or the right shade of a palette.

    It was almost poetic.

    “Hey, I’m here, what did you guys need?” You ask as you put on a fake smile and enter the makeup trailer.

    The trailer where Chris is sat getting his hair done.

    Your blood boiled, wasn’t he supposed to be a charmer? A sweetheart? Maybe he was just really getting into character?

    “Can you sweep the floor and make sure there’s no more hair?”

    You had to physically fight the urge to drop your face, “sure!”

    You grabbed the broom, feeling embarrassed as you quietly sunk into the background as you felt Chris’ eyes on you.

    A few medial, mind numbing tasks later and it was closing in on 2am. Your notification-less phone screen lit up the empty trailer you were left to clean up.

    Not that you really minded.

    You find solace in the only time of the day where things seem to slow down. You also didn’t hate being alone where you could listen to music and clean hairbrushes.

    “So this is what you do after we cut.” The sound of Chris’ laugh startles you as you let out a soft yelp.

    He has a soft smile on his face, almost unrecognizable without his beard.

    “I thought I was alone,” you reply meekly, turning the volume lower on your phone as Chris shook his head.

    “Oh, I know,” he laughs, “I don’t think anyone would be belting out Queen like that if they didn’t think they were alone.”

    Once again, you feel embarrassed in front of him, shaking your head.

    “Whatever,” you try to brush it off. “Did you need something?” You ask as he shakes his head.

    “I was just checkin’ in on you.” He replies and you’re a little taken aback.

    “Oh, well thanks, but I’m okay. Just finishing up cleaning.” You said with a tight lipped smile and a nod of your head.

    Chris stands there for a second, shoving his hands into his pockets as he looks over his shoulder before clearing his throat.

    “Well uh, some of the cast and crew are havin’ some drinks and pizza later, if you wanted to tag along.”

    The invite makes your stomach drop into your lower belly as you open your mouth.

    You have to take a moment to formulate the words.

    “It’s getting pretty late, I think I’m just gonna head back to my hotel room. Parties aren’t really my thing.” You joke, lightening the mood as Chris cracks a smile.

    “Sure thing, sweetheart. The invites always there,” he says before turning on his heels and leaving you to yourself.

    Chris Evans was an enigma that you didn’t think you’d ever crack.

~

    The soft knock at your door caused your neck to snap in its direction, uncrossing your legs as you slid off the too big hotel bed and looked through the peep hole.

    It was hard to make out the figure, but it looked like...no, it couldn’t be.

    “Chris?” His name slipped through your lips as you opened the door.

    He beamed a smile as he held up a case of beer and box of pizza.

    “Turns out, parties aren’t my thing either.”

    You couldn’t help but chuckle as you moved aside to let him in.

    “And you decided that coming to my room at,” you had to check the time, “3:16 in the morning was the logical thing to do?”

    He set everything down on the coffee table before hopping onto your bed, “yup.”

    You had to roll your eyes as you laughed, closing and locking the door as you stepped in front of him.

    “C’mon kid,” oh, why did that do something to you?

    “You work hard every day of the week, you deserve one night to not care about anything.” His words were gentle as he stood up to grab a beer.

    “Want one?” He asked, holding a beer up as you replayed his words.

    “Sure,” he was right, you do deserve a break.

    You both took a seat on the small, uncomfortable couch in the room as you took a sip. Well, it was beer.

    “So,” you broke the silence, “the Chris Evans doesn’t like parties?” You quirked an amused eyebrow as he laughed.

    “Maybe I wanted to escape to see you, is that so bad?” He said, licking his bottom lip; not breaking eye contact.

    You shook your head, “such a fucking Gemini,” you mumble as Chris smirks.

    “What did I say about that smart mouth of yours?” He eggs you on, leaning forward and giving your knee a squeeze.

    “I don’t remember.” You bite back, feeling your heart kicking in your chest as you feel his breath fanning over your face.

    “Maybe I should teach you a lesson or two then, hmm?” He purrs, running his free hand up your neck and resting it there.

    “I dare you,” you mumble, transfixed on the feeling of his warm hands on you.

    The dominos fall and Chris’ lips are meshed with yours, the faint taste of beer on them as you wrap your fingers in the collar of his shirt.

    “You know I never back down from a challenge,” he murmurs against your lips before taking you by the hand and leading you to the bed.

    He pushes you onto it, the sheets around you as the weight of Chris’ body pushed you further into it.

    “Ah ah,” he tsks when you let out a soft moan, “I thought I told you to keep quiet for me.”

    You swallow thickly, throat dry and lips parted as you gasp when you can feel the weight of him between your hips.

    “Can you do that for me, sweetheart? Can you be a good girl?” He purrs, absolutely knowing what it does to you as you writhe under him. 

    “Good,” he hums. “Now let’s see how good you are when I’m between your legs makin’ then shake.”

    His wink doesn’t go unnoticed by you as your clothes are shed, his coming off until he’s left in nothing but his boxers.

    There’s little left to the imagination, the outline of his cock clear as he wraps his hands around your ankles and tugs you down to the end of the bed.

    You yelp, sliding off the pillows as he sinks to his knees, hungry eyes just waiting to taste you.

    “Look at you,” he cooes, “drippin’ at the thought of me between your thighs?” He mocks, cocking his head to side as he keeps your legs open.

    Chaste kisses are pressed to your inner thighs, gently as you try to stop the plea’s that are begging to slip past your mouth.

    “You’re bein’ so patient for me too, good girl.” He praises, he breath over your core is hot as you grab for his hair.

    The feeling of his tongue makes you moan and squeeze your legs around his head.

    “Mmm,” he hums, “that good already?”

    If he wasn’t buried between your legs you might’ve, just might’ve had the courage to roll your eyes.

    His fingers tease your entrance as his mouth works over your clit.

    There’s no holding back now.

    You don’t care how loud you’re being, giving into the sensation as he works you to the edge, your legs shaking.

    “You wanna come, don’t you, pretty girl?” Yes, God, yes.

    “Well that’s too bad,” he taunts making you let out a whine.

    “Not until I’m buried deep ‘side of you,” he grunts, quickly stripping off the rest of his clothes until he’s crawling back over you with a condom in his hand.

    You’re still dizzy, slightly angry from your denied orgasm, but wanting nothing more than to feel him stretching you out.

    “You think you’re ready for my cock,” he smirks teasingly as you feel him at your entrance.

    You whine, bringing his lips to your but he stops you at the last second.

    “Uh uh baby, I wanna hear you beg for it.” He taunts, nose brushing yours.

    “Fuck,” you whimper, “please, just fuck me.” You beg, eyes meeting his.

    That’s all he needs before he’s slowly sinking into you, watching your face contort in immeasurable pleasure.

    “Feel so fuckin’ good,” he grunts, “so tight and warm.”

    Your fingers dig into his speckled back, finding your ground as you dig into the soft skin as he thrusts into you.

    Suddenly, the only think you can think about is how good this feels.

    “My pretty girl,” he whispers, bending your one leg at the knee to get a deeper angle.

    “Takin’ my cock so goddamn well,” he grunts, “gonna make me come.”

    His words send a shiver down your spine as your walls flutter around him. He drops on one of his elbows, getting impossibly close to you.

    “You’re gonna come too, aren’t you, sweetheart?” He teases, lips on yours swallowing every moan before you feel a hand around your throat.

    “Look at me when you come, baby,” he purrs, applying just the slightest amount of pressure to the column of your throat.

    “Wanna see you come for me,” he smirks, his thrusts getting harsher before you feel yourself giving into your orgasm.

    Your body shakes as your mouth falls open, his name a breathy moan before you feel his hips stuttering.

    He sounds exhausted after he spills inside of you, tumbling on top of you as you’re left in sweaty silence as you’re left with nothing to do but run your fingers through his dampened hair.

    “Gemini or not, you’re what made me weak in the knees, sweetheart.” Chris whispers, eyes on yours as you feel a flutter in your heart.

    “There’s somethin’ about you that I won’t ever grow tired of, that I’m sure about.”

[hpimaginesandblurbs]

a remus lupin smut after the full moon where reader takes care of him and it’s just soft and sweet and nice <3

pairing: young remus lupin x reader 

warning(s): 18+, handjob, so much fluff

word count: 1.4k 

a/n: this one kinda made me sad to write and i couldn’t stop thinking about atyd the whole time. i just wish remus got all the love he deserved. 

“Everything hurts,” Remus mumbled into his pillow, laying on his stomach, finally able to lay down after his long trek up to the Gryffindor Tower. The both of you were laying on his bed, curtains pulled with a silencing charm in place so the other boys wouldn’t hear you muffled conversation. 

The full moon was last night and, as always, Madam Pomfrey kept him in the Hospital Wing for the day to make sure he was alright. He had slept most of the day, but you could tell your boyfriend was still exhausted and in pain. 

It was like this after every full moon since he had told you about his lycanthropy. Just you and him in his tiny twin bed, curtains drawn and just in your own world. It was what he needed, he had told you once. Just you to hold him and be there with him after a terrible night. Even with the boys joining him, it wasn’t an enjoyable experience. You were just happy to be of some comfort to him.

“Maybe a massage would help?” You asked, lightly stroking his arm as you laid with him. Anything you could do after the full moon to help him, you would. It was a promise you had made yourself immediately after he told you about his ‘furry little problem’ as the boys so eloquently named it. You knew it was a major step for him to take with you, and you would do your best to make sure he was okay at all costs. 

“That sounds nice, love,” he said, giving you a small smile but you could see the tension he held in his eyes. 

“Do you want to take your shirt off or leave it on?” You asked gently, maneuvering your body so you were straddling his waist. You felt him tense underneath you, barely breathing. That was never good. “Re?” 

“Ther- There’s another scar,” he said into the pillow. It was muffled but you heard him loud and clear. You took a deep breath bur pressed on. 

“Can I lift your shirt so I can see it? I just want to be careful,” you told him softly, trying to keep him as comfortable as possible. You knew he hated his scars, but you always made it a point to give them love. Every last one of them. You saw him nod into the pillow and you slowly dragged his shirt up his back until it was tucked under his armpits. 

There was an ugly scar across the bottom of his back, still red and healing. Madam Pomfrey had clearly applied Dittany to it, but it would most likely take the week to heal. 

“Thank you,” you said softly and immediately began digging your fingers into his shoulders. 

He tensed and relaxed under you whenever you hit a new spot. You worked out knot after knot, slowly trailing down his back as you went. Your own hands were tense by the time you finished, but it was worth it because he was not boneless against the sheets. For a moment his shallow breathing made you believe he was asleep, but he stirred to reach his hand out for you. 

You took his hand and fell down on the bed beside him. He was looking at you with a small smile again, but this time the smile reached his eyes. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, shifting his body so you were lying face to face. 

“Anytime,” you replied, brushing him off easily. You didn’t want him to make a big deal about your acts of service. He deserved them just like anyone else. Hopefully one day he’d realize it. 

You leaned in for a soft kiss which quickly turned heated, but he eventually pulled away, knowing he was in no shape for sex tonight. It didn’t stop you from looking down though, just in case. And just as you suspected, there was a prominent bulge in his sweatpants, just the outline of it making your mouth water. Werewolf or not, he was still just your horny boyfriend at the end of the day. 

“I can take care of that for you too if you want,” you said with a small smirk, nodding your head in the direction of his pants. 

“You don’t have to. We should probably just go to bed anyways,” he argued lightly, the tips of his ears turning pink at the knowledge that you had noticed his little problem. 

“Well I’m certainly not letting you go to bed uncomfortable. So yes or no?” You asked him simply. 

He gave you a quick nod, making you smile in return. You brought your lips back to his, locking him in a heated kiss, while you hand trailed down to his bulge. You palmed him for a moment, but shortly moved to pull down the front of his sweatpants only to find out he wasn’t wearing underwear. This man was out to kill you. 

You pulled his cock out his pants and gave it a quick stroke, making his hips stutter against your hand. You pulled your hand and lips away from him at the same time, bringing your hand up to lick a strip of spit onto it. He let out a groan watching you, his eyes never leaving yours. 

Your hand returned to his cock and he quickly pulled you back into a kiss. You started with slow strokes, bringing him to full hardness, before you sped up slightly. You wanted to keep things slow so as to not over excite him, but you also wanted to get him off. You were at the perfect speed to do both with a little bit on time. 

He left out a low moan into your mouth when you twisted your hand the way he liked which you swallowed up greedily. You moved your hand the same way again just to hear him make more noise. You loved how vocal he could be when you had your hands on him like this. 

You stayed steady like that for a few minutes, slowly moving him along to his release. Finally you felt his body tense and he said, “I’m gonna - fuck, Y/N”. 

You felt his cock twitch right before he spilled into your hand. You worked him through it until he was boneless once more on the bed and slowly backing his hips away from you. Once you were content that he was thoroughly finished, you gave him one last peck on the lips before moving for your wand to clean the both of you up. 

“I’m sorry I can’t return the favor,” he said once he got his breath back. 

“You’ll make it up to me. I know you,” you said, a smile growing on your face. 

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he mumbled, burying his face into your chest. 

“Good thing I’m never leaving, hm?” You replied with a giggle. 

You expected him to make some witty response like he normally would, but when his head shot up with a look of concern in his eyes, you paused. “Please don’t,” he begged silently. 

Your heart broke just looking at him. This boy who you loved with your entire being, more than words could ever describe, was begging you to never leave him because he was infinitely ashamed of what he was. You never cared what he was, you only ever wanted him. You could almost laugh at the ridiculousness of it, but looking in his eyes again stopped you. 

“I’m never leaving. I promise. Even if you try to push me away I won’t leave. You’re mine and I’m yours. Forever. I promise,” you told him, your eyes never leaving his. 

You felt the relief fill his body and watched his eyes light up. “I love you,” he said, his voice raw with the emotions that he was trying to hold back. 

“I love you too, Re. So much. Now get some rest please. You need it,” you said, giving him a quick kiss to his forehead before you rested your head against his pillows. 

He didn’t put up a fight this time. Most of the time he did, trying his best to convince you he was fine until he couldn’t hide it anymore. But tonight he simply put his head back down on your chest and got comfortable, his arms looping their way around your body to hold you close and make sure you stayed there all night. 

You stayed awake until you heard his breathing out and his soft snores begin. You fell asleep with a small smile on your face, surrounded by Remus and the scent of him, just knowing tomorrow would be a better day for the both of you.

[coweye]

Guys My Age - PT.1

Pairing: Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales x Miller!Reader Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: After four years away, you return home to realise that maybe everything you’ve been looking for was right in front of you all along.

Warnings: Mention of depression, Slow burn - no smut yet but it will eventually be horrifically filthy 18+ only pls gang, LEGAL Age Gap. 

Note: This bad bois been worming its way to the surface for a while now, hope you enjoy! 💕 I apologise in advance for the slow burn.

⇢MASTERLIST

Life was strange sometimes.

Here you were, back in the hometown you’d sworn never to return to after four years away, flanked by your older brother Benny. 

Two thirds of the Miller gang back together, reunited or at least you had been.

“I’ma get us a table, you order the drinks.” Ben muttered distractedly whilst scouting out potential tables.

“Hey, I’m supposed to be destitute, the least you could do is get the first round in.” The sad thing is, you’re only half joking. He rolled his eyes at your expense, before handing you his credit card and continued on his journey to get a table, presumably with a great view of the blonde woman he’d spotted upon entry to the bar. Benny was predictable if nothing else, it was part of his charm. 

So, you pushed your way forward through the throng of warm bodies, Friday night at Flanagans was a nightmare but you had agreed to be sociable as Santiago was in town, so you’d made the sacrifice and took a night off from your crushing depression to don a nice t-shirt and apply makeup for the first time in the two weeks since moving into Will’s back room.

You smiled what you hoped was a somewhat friendly lift of your lips at the bartender and ordered two beers, as you were waiting you heard the familiar call of Santiago Garcia - the man who you’d spent your teen years obsessed with. 

He was gorgeous inside and out, though your crush had morphed into something a lot more wholesome and you had a genuine platonic love for the man, as an extension of your brothers.

“How have you been, guapa? God, long time no see!” He all but cried, clearly already a couple of beers in as wrapped you in a strong hug, pulling you onto your tiptoes. He wasn’t lying, you hadn’t seen Santiago in two maybe three years ago now. 

Time had gotten away from you and your visits had become less and less frequent, especially with the boys being deployed, you couldn’t say you were happy to be back, but it was certainly nice to see them all again.

“I know, damn, you got old!” You chuckle as his face straightens out in feigned hurt. “Like fine wine, Santi, Fine wine!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Stop flirting, you two.” Will grumbles as he slides through the crowd to lean on the bar beside you, lifting three fingers up to the bartender who had already placed the pints of beer before you. 

“Where have you been?” You question raising an eyebrow “I’ve been back at least two weeks.”

“I’ve been in Australia for a little while, it's nothing serious but-”

“Pope’s got a girlfriend now, Squirt.” The low voice is a new one, but only one person used to call you that awful nickname. 

You turn to see Francisco Morales behind you, his eyes are older than the rest of him but still irrevocably kind and he has an easy smile painted on his lips. You can’t quite remember him being this handsome as your eyes drink him in, perhaps you’d been blinded by the effortless beauty of Santiago as a teen but my god, Catfish had almost floored you. 

“Frankie!” You smile - all teeth, trying somewhat successfully for an air of normalcy despite your brain processing the change that five years has had on your taste in men and pulling him in for his own hug. 

You tried to stop yourself, you honestly did but as you breathed in, the smell of him overtook you, the spicy scent of cinnamon and sweet vanilla; the man somehow smelled like a goddamn cupcake and you had the biggest sweet tooth. 

Locking your inner sex offender deep down inside a box so as to not assault the man you’d held in a hug for what was becoming longer than appropriate, you pulled away. 

“A girlfriend?” You question, your brain scrambling for something to talk about other than those brown eyes. You can’t help the smirk that sneaks its way across your lips as you tease the man before you. “Santiago Garcia, have you gone soft on me in your old age?”

He huffs as he grabs his beer. “Fuck off, baby Miller.” 

The three of you chortle in response to his defeated tone as he walks towards the table Ben has secured. Will grabs at his wallet, hand coming out to stop you in confusion when you hold out a card to pay. 

You shake your head and shrug. “Ben’s treat.” 

That kills any argument on his tongue as he picks up his drink and follows Santi’s lead. You can’t help but chuckle at your brothers, you had missed them both so much. 

You’re very quickly aware of Frankie lingering to your left, waiting for you to finish paying, ever the gentleman. 

You turn to him as the machine processes the transaction. 

“Your-”

“How-” You both chuckle, the two of you have always been the quiet ones of the group, more observant with witty one liners thrown in than the loud mouths currently chatting at your table. 

It seems years apart haven’t helped either of your awkwardness.

“You go…” You dismiss with a quick laugh when he waits for you to speak.

“I was just gonna say, it's nice to have you back!” He shrugged before gesturing to side of him “After you,” 

Frankie creates a barrier with his body for your fellow thirsty patrons who want your spot at the bar. You pick up yours and Bens drinks and turn to find the guys. 

Frankie’s hand finds your lower back as he guides you through, its innocuous enough, hell if you hadn’t been drooling over the man minutes before you wouldn’t have given it so much as a second thought, but that palm guarding you from the brunt of the crowd was like molten lava slowly burning your flesh. 

“W-Well, it’s good to be back! I’m not going anywhere in a hurry!” You pretty much shout over the deafening ambient chatter around you. His low voice is in your ear when he replies, you force yourself not to close the distance and push your spine into his chest, Frankie isn’t like that; Hell, he has a girlfriend and baby at home.

He’s just being friendly - he’s known you since you were seventeen. 

“You miss your friends back home?”

“They’re not my friends. None of those assholes let me sleep on their goddamn sofas.” Trying to break the tension only you seemed to be feeling with a joke, it seems to work as he chortles.

“Well you’re more than welcome to my sofa if Will ever gets too much, Squirt.” You couldn’t explain the things that this man saying the word squirt to you was doing. No matter the context, even if it was because you squirted slurpee from your nose when laughing too hard when you were a teenager. 

“I may hold you to that - he bit my head off the other day because I didn’t wash a glass the second I used it, I swear-” You’re cut off when you find the booth rather quickly, the raucous laughter from the rangers acting as a siren call.  You slide in beside Ben and turn to your other brother “-I was just telling Frankie, how much of a control freak you are.”

And because God hates you, Francisco slides in beside you. 

…

You were a grown woman and you had a ridiculous infatuation.

It wasn’t for a lack of trying either, after sitting in that bar you had made an effort to block out the sensation of his thigh against your own or when he leaned back against the plush fabric and wrapped his arm around the back of the booth.

But so help you god you were only human, you couldn’t help but laugh a little harder at his jokes than the others or the warmth that flooded your belly when you’d meet his eyes as you told a story and find his chocolate orbs transfixed on you as if you were telling a great tale - rather than an anecdote about how you dislocated your tailbone last year when you were drunk on some stairs.

It wasn’t even as if it was just his looks - though you were big enough to admit that initially that had been a large part of it.  It was the ease you felt around him, the kindness you could see clear as day painted on his face. 

Though you knew, deep down in your toxic heart of hearts, buried beneath your daddy issues and depression, this deep desire was because he wasn’t all that interested. 

It wasn’t as if he ignored you, no. He was friendly, but he had no interest in you besides just that, being a friend. 

He had a baby and a girlfriend and you weren’t a home wrecker.

He was your brother's best friend, an extension of your family. 

These were all things you reminded yourself about as you lay in bed alone staring up at the ceiling the morning after.

You could just be his friend, right?

⇢ Next Part