#grown men have bedtimes too

[fastandcarlos]

Ferrari At Heart » Charles LeClerc

summary: as your interest in f1 grows, so does your interest in a certain ferrari driver

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liked by redbullracing, schecoperez and 528,392 others

ynusername: excited to experience my first grand prix this weekend, and luckily for you guys I get to bring you with me for it all. thank you red bull for inviting me out 💙

tagged: redbullracing

48,221 comments

redbullracing: you’re more than welcome back at the paddock anytime you like

username1: pls tell me we’re getting a vlog out of this

username2: praying for a max cameo

landonorris: it was good to meet you y/n, even if it was only in passing

ynusername: @/landonorris if I come again I’ll make sure we have a proper introduction

username3: imagine all the chaos of y/n x f1 drivers 🤯

maxverstappen1: thank you for being a great guest, I’m sure we could definitely arrange another trip out for you soon!!

username4: max and y/n already seem like the best of friends omg

schecoperez: loved having you root for us this weekend y/n, hopefully you’ll be cheering for red bull in the future too!

username5: y/n must’ve been good company for grandad sergio to comment 😂

username6: I’ve not even seen the footage but I just know I want y/n at every f1 race for the rest of time

ynusername: thank you for an awesome couple of days, I’m editing all my content with a huge smile on my face 💙

maxverstappen1: @/ynusername remember who your favourite driver is and to edit him handsomely

ynusername: @/maxverstappen1 ofc…just for you!

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liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 723,100 others

ynusername: new vlog is on its way, I take a tour of the paddock, spend the day in blue and see what happened when charles and max joined me for a game which left them not speaking to each other for the rest of the day

tagged: maxverstappen1 and charles_leclerc

83,291 comments

username7: how do two grown men fall out over rock paper scissors 🤦🏻‍♀️

username8: petition for y/n to just be hired by f1 - funniest video ever!!

maxverstappen1: thank you for showing people I have the ability to smile 😂

maxverstappen1: ps I’m still not over you cheating so that charles could win #favouritism

charles_leclerc: maybe y/n is secretly just a ferrari girl at heart 🤔

username9: two of my fave drivers and fave vlogger in one video…have I died and gone to heaven?

charles_leclerc: I had such a good time with you, just let me know one day if you fancy another cameo from the most handsome f1 driver to ever exist 🥰

ynusername: @/charles_leclerc if I do, I’ll be sure to give carlos a call!

charles_leclerc: @/ynusername RUDE

username10: not y/n already savaging charles

username11: I never want this weekend of content to end

danielricciardo: if you come back again, I call dibs on being the first for editing lessons from you

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liked by carlossainz55, ynusername and 1,319,503 others

charles_leclerc: the perfect ending to a great week here in Baku, thank you for all the support this week ❤️🏁🏆

193,492 comments

username12: welcome back to where you belong king!!

scuderiaferrari: an amazing week charles, congratulations from the whole team ❤️

ynusername: it was awesome to see you top of the podium at my first race…enjoy your celebrations this evening 👏🏻

charles_leclerc: @/ynusername there’s still time for you to come join us…

username13: charles flirting with y/n was not what I had on my bingo card for 2024

username14: charles sliding right in and stealing y/n from red bull

carlossainz55: solid drive charlie! p1 and p2 🎉

username15: someone figure out the lucky charm that won charles the race this week!!

username16: @/username15 isn’t it obvious???

landonorris: thank you for sending all that love to me mon cherie

charles_leclerc: @/landonorris isn’t it past your bedtime? 🙄

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liked by danielricciardo, oscarpiastri and 528,302 others

ynusername: I had so much fun the first time I just had to come for round two, shoutout to charles for giving me the ticket 🥺

62,338 comments

charles_leclerc: happy to have been able to help you out…look forward to seeing me win again this week 😉

username17: anyone else think there’s definitely something strange going on here…

maxverstappen1: can’t believe you’ve betrayed me like this y/n 💙

charles_leclerc: @/maxverstappen1 I told you she was ferrari at heart ❤️

username18: how is y/n so calm when she has THE charles leclerc practically wrapped around her finger

carlossainz55: it’s only been a week and we missed you, love the most handsome face in f1 😂😚

username19: pls lord let there be another vlog from this weekend

oscarpiastri: mclaren next week?? 🧡

georgerussell63: come and see me this weekend…my girlfriend is desperate to meet you 🙏🏻

carmenmmundt: @/georgerussell63 why you exposing me like this??

ynusername: @/carmenmmundt I promise I’m all yours when I find you 💕🩷

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liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 and 829,004 others

ynusername: another f1 video is on its way featuring my two new favourite people, so glad to call you both friends. i think you’ll be seeing a lot more of me and f1 soon 🤫🤐

42,391 comments

username20: peep the f1 mic 👀

username21: my heart won’t take it if y/n is working for f1 now too

charles_leclerc: I could definitely get used to seeing a lot more of you around ☺️

carlossainz55: hands down the best video I’ve ever been a part of 😂

ynusername: @/carlossainz55 thank you for being such a great sport and taking part with my crazy ideas 🫶🏻

username22: no one can convince me that charles doesn’t fancy y/n now

username23: “call you both friends” um no y/n this is not how this works

pierregasly: major fomo watching you all have this much fun!

ynusername: @/pierregasly you and estie next week??

pierregasly: @/ynusername YES YES YES

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liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc and 829,400 others

ynusername: another race week = another week of annoying these two and playing guess the ferrari as the cars go round too fast 😂🏎️

53,922 comments

username24: thank you ferrari for having y/n back 🙏🏻

charles_leclerc: you know which car mine is right?

ynusername: @/charles_leclerc if I say yes will you believe me??

charles_leclerc: @/ynusername no 😂 I’ll just have to make sure that I stand out from the crowd next time

username25: bit sus for y/n to be with charles as soon as the race is over 🤔

username26: I refuse to believe that this is another just friends situation

carlossainz55: if you see two ferraris I’m usually the one in front 😉

charles_leclerc: @/carlossainz55 don’t lie to y/n like that 🙄

ynusername: @/carlossainz55 you and I know the truth 😂

landonorris: come join mclaren we’re easy to spot 🧡

iamrebeccad: I’ve been doing this for nearly a year and lemme tell you y/n it doesn’t get easier

username27: rebecca implying that we’ll see more of y/n at races in the future 😩

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liked by username28, landonorris and 29,201 others

f1wags: our sources out on the streets of monaco have been sharing some interesting snaps of charles leclerc and y/n y/l/n before qualifying this weekend. y/n has regularly been seen in the ferrari garage the past few races, and whilst it’s been well publicised that the couple have struck up quite the friendship, could this be something a little bit more?

3,920 comments

username28: not lando in the likes 😂😂

username29: damn I knew it

username30: my heart is racing…pls someone say this is true

username31: the way he looks at her 🫠

username32: I love them so much already

username33: lando don’t just like, spill the tea if you’ve got it

username34: I’ve never shipped a couple harder in my life

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liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc and 1,034,482 others

ynusername: p1 in monaco, exactly what you’ve dreamed of for so long! congratulations you beautiful human, I could not be prouder of you 🏆🏁❤️

tagged: charles_leclerc

89,207 comments

username35: this is it team…they’re finally confirmed 🎉

username36: I KNEW IT I KNEW IT I KNEW IT

maxverstappen1: I’ll secretly take all the credit for this and introducing the two of you 😇

username37: everyone say thank you to max for introducing my two loves

charles_leclerc: thank you for all your love and support, I couldn’t do it without you 🥰❤️

username38: I cannot wait to see the vlog of this one

username39: my life has officially peaked

carlossainz55: am I still the most handsome face in f1?? 😂

ynusername: @/carlossainz55 🤫🤫

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liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri and 1,490,284 others

charles_leclerc: the worst kept secret ever…from day one I always knew I was gonna get the girl 🥺💕

tagged: ynusername

78,848 comments

ynusername: you could’ve at least pretended not to be obsessed with me 😂😂

charles_leclerc: @/ynusername you shouldn’t have looked so gorgeous then I wouldn’t have had to

maxverstappen1: @/charles_leclerc 🤮🤮

charles_leclerc: @/maxverstappen1 you’re only jealous…I told you that y/n really was a ferrari girl at heart ❤️😂

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any replies, reposts or feedback are gratefully received

 ˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[ceruark]

DANCE WITH THE DEVIL.

synopsis: yan! hsr men as slasher movie killers… and “love interests.” [blade, boothill, aventurine, sunday] words: 3.1k cw: yandere themes: obsession, stalking. slasher elements, gore. a/n: happy friday the 13th to all who celebrate

BLADE is already pretty much like Michael Myers from Halloween: large man, terrifying presence, unfathomable kill count, and cannot die. No matter what you do, no matter how many times you or the other survivors find a way to kill him, he keeps coming back, and with renewed vengeance every time.

The first time you’d been subjected to his knife was at a summer camp. Having gone there every summer for years growing up, you grew attached to the place and decided to pick up a role as a counselor in the summers following your high school graduation, and they passed peacefully. However, in the few months leading up to your college graduation, misfortune befell the small town where the camp was located. Someone’s grave had been dug up, and just weeks after that, people started turning up dead, their bodies littered with so many stab wounds that some were unrecognizable.

Given the ongoing investigation, the counselors and other camp staff requested that the summer camp not reopen, but the owners and even some parents insisted they stay open, and so despite your better judgment, you returned. You needed the money, and you knew how to defend yourself— if anything happened, you could keep yourself and your kids safe.

At least, that’s what you believed. When the man appears in the doorway of your cabin, his stocky figure silhouetted by the moonlight and leaving two red eyes gleaming down at you, you know there’s not a chance in hell you’re making it out of there alive.

You’d thrown yourself at him, yelling for your kids to escape through the back. He’s been merciless, sinking his knife into your flesh over and over again, but you persevered and fought back until you were sure every single one of your kids had made it a good distance away from the cabin. At some point you’d collapsed, from exhaustion and blood loss.

The doctors said it was a miracle you survived. They had your house guarded since he hadn’t been detained, but once word of his death by police gunfire got around, things calmed down significantly. You relaxed over the years, letting your guard down and believing that things could return to normal. Serial killings all over the nation popped up, but you worried not—after all, the killer you were concerned with was dead.

One of the survivors reached out to you five years after that fateful night, wishing to get together with the others who lived to get drinks and properly move on from everything. It was, of course, a set up; Blade had returned, and the man who invited you believed he’d be spared if he got the rest of the survivors together in one place.

He’d been the first one murdered that night. 

Once again, you narrowly dodged death, just barely managing to get yourself to a hospital before you received one stab wound too many. Time goes on, and no matter how many times they put a bullet through his head, he manages to come back. The list of survivors has grown, but the list of victims is now countless.

You’re in your thirties when the police reach out to the adult survivors. There’s a new survivor: a five year-old girl by the name of Yunli. Her parents had been ruthlessly slaughtered, but he hadn’t touched even a single hair on the young girl’s hair. She didn’t have any living family, and so, you agreed to take her in. 

Life is easier with Yunli in it. A bright, spunky little thing, she brings joy to your days and some semblance of a family that you’ve been too scared to seek out. It’s nice to have the sound of laughter filling your home.

That same laughter has you smiling tonight, the girl’s giggling floating down the hallway and into the kitchen, where you’re washing dishes. A quick glance at the microwave’s clock tells you it’s close to her bedtime, and she’s far more energetic than she typically would be at this time. You wipe your hands off on a dish towel and walk down the hall toward her room, wishing to find out what’s working her up at this hour and wanting to tell her to wind down before bed.

You knock lightly before turning the knob. You get the door open a crack before the sight on the other side of it leaves you frozen, horrified.

He’s in Yunli’s room, kneeling before her as she shows him the many dolls you’ve bought her. His knife is on the floor beside him, and the eyes that have haunted your dreams for years pierce into you, pinning you where you stand.

The girl seems… happier with you, than she had been with her parents. Perhaps he’ll have to be kinder to you this time.

BOOTHILL gives me Texas Chainsaw Massacre vibes in terms of how he kills and the brutality of it all, but not personality-wise. No, I actually think he’d be quite personable with that southern charm of his— so of course, no one would ever expect him to do anything unspeakable.

You and your friends are on a road trip when the car breaks down in the middle of nowhere. There’s nothing but fields of crops as far as the eye can see, and the only sign of civilization is a barn, some stables, and a few coops with two houses near them about a mile away from where you’re standing.

You all make the trek, hoping to be able to get some help from the people living there. Worst case scenario, if it’s all been abandoned, you can squat there and look for tools to help you fix the car. But to your surprise, when you knock, a kind-looking man with wild white and black hair opens the door, and after hearing about your situation, is more than happy to be of assistance.

He tows the car onto his property and takes a look at it, determining that the entire engine needs to be replaced. Given his distance from the nearest auto shop, he says he’ll leave for town Sunday afternoon and get the part on Monday morning. It’s going to be an all-day trip, so he likely won’t be back until early Tuesday morning.

You’ve got a couple days to get to know him, in the meantime. Your friends absolutely adore him, pointing out how good of a guy he is, some even pointing out how attractive he is. You scoff one night as he’s making dinner away from where you’re all sitting, as one of your friends starts a bet on if any of you will be able to sleep with him before all of this is over.

Sunday afternoon comes all too soon, though, and none of you get very far with him before he’s heading off in his truck toward the nearest town. You’re a bit shocked that he would so willingly leave a group of strangers in his house unattended, but you chalk it up to his kindness that seems to be boundless.

You should have been far more concerned.

You’re all woken up that night by the sound of a chainsaw revving, shortly followed by one of your friend’s horrible shrieking. The room devolves into panic and chaos as you watch her get torn to shreds by the very man who invited you into his home, now donning a mask of what you hope is animal skin.

You all flee in different directions, but he knows the property better than you do, and sure enough, your friends are picked off one by one until you’re the last one standing. You narrowly dodge some of the traps he’s set up and take refuge in the stables, struggling to keep yourself together as you hear your friend’s cries in the distance. 

While looking for something to defend yourself with, you find a box hidden in a pile of hay. It’s locked, but you force it open, dumping its contents on the floor. A pistol, a few handwritten letters, and pictures of a woman and a young girl. You place the pistol beside you before your curiosity takes over, causing you to slowly go through and study the pictures.

In your distracted state, you failed to notice that he’d gotten into the stables. You jump to your feet when the chainsaw revs just a few feet in front of you. You turn off the safety and raise the gun, your hand steady and your shot clear.

He’s lost so much in his life, and it’s driven him to madness. And you, you remind him of something— someone precious who he lost to illness, to the cruelty of life.

He can’t lose you again. He won’t allow you to leave.

And that’s not something you’ll realize until he’s staring at you from the barrel of a gun you believe is loaded, laughing for a reason you can’t understand.

AVENTURINE stepped right out of a Scream movie. He’s a classic Ghostface-type killer, phone calls and everything. He’s certainly got the charisma needed to make the intimidating phone calls, and I feel like he would enjoy stalking and toying around with his prey a bit before going in for the kill. 

You could probably argue that he’s not the type to want to make things messy, but I feel like in this case, he would be using this as an outlet, meaning all his kills are brutal and gory. (Creative, at times, too. The police will give him that.) There’s just something so comforting about being covered in blood, the warm liquid almost serving as a warm embrace.

For him, there aren’t any better targets than his close friend group. He knows all their darkest secrets, and has no problem using his knowledge to torment them and easily back them into a corner, too panicked to see him coming until it’s too late. These people have always been fake, anyway, and he knows they’ve always looked down on him. Can you really blame him for taking out the trash?

And then, of course, there’s you. You’re not a saint by any means— no, you’ve got your fair share of skeletons in the closet, and each secret you divulge to him because of the trust you foolishly placed in him is sweeter than any death he could imagine giving you. Maybe that’s what draws him to you so much; where everyone else wears a mask, there’s something about you that’s genuine, and it’s a side of you that you’ve entrusted to only him.

So when the killer finally shows up on your doorstep, he’s the one you turn to. As you’re on the phone with the killer, responding to his taunts in an attempt to figure out where exactly he is in your house, you’re texting Aventurine on the side and sending him what you believe is your last goodbye. 

“Do you want to be forgiven?” The disguised voice on the other line croons into your ear. “Do you think you should be?”

You’ve just pressed send on your message when a hand seizes you by the back of the neck and throws you to the ground. The impact of hitting the hardwood floor distracts you from the sound of a phone buzzing nearby. You scramble backward, attempting to get to your feet as you do, but the masked man grabs onto your foot and sinks his knife into your calf, ripping a pained screech from your throat.

He drags you back toward him before settling on top of you, his legs straddling your waist rather suggestively. He sinks his blade into you and drags it across your skin slowly, the scorching pain leaving you writhing and crying out in pain.

He flees once he hears sirens in the distance. The police find you on the floor of your living room with four stab wounds and multiple cuts. Aventurine shows up not long after them, disheveled and worried and flashing the police the text you sent him. They allow him to ride in the ambulance with you, admiring his intent to endanger himself if it meant saving you.

You’re so frazzled that you don’t even notice he showed up at your house way sooner than he should’ve, as though he was already nearby. You just blindly turn to him for comfort, clutching onto him for dear life. It’s cute.

He runs his hands through your hair soothingly, shushing you and gently rubbing your back as you sob into his shoulder. You shouldn’t worry so much, dear. He’s here now, and he’ll make sure no one else lays a finger on you ever again.

You don’t realize your grave mistake until you’re standing in Jade’s basement, her brutalized body at your feet and a metal pipe in your hands. You can defend yourself all you like, but it’s far too easy for the masked killer to evade your swings and land his blade in your shoulder, your stomach, your thigh. All places that won’t kill you, of course.

When you finally collapse to your knees, sobbing hysterically and succumbing to your fate, the killer unexpectedly drops to his knees beside you. He wraps his arms around you and presses his chest to your back, trapping you in his hold. You shudder as he runs his blade along your face and neck, smearing your own blood across your soft skin.

“It’s okay,” he coos, and the familiar voice makes you freeze. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

The mocking laughter that follows makes your heart drop, and the rest of your hope vanishes.

SUNDAY is definitely involved in some Children of the Corn type of shit. Some supernatural slasher stuff where there’s a cult behind everything, and he’s at the head of it all.

Ena is not a kind god. Countless generations of Oaks have tried various methods of worship and offerings, but none work quite as well as the human sacrifice. This is something Mr. Wood had taught him from a very young age, explaining to Sunday their history as he methodically cut up whichever poor soul had wandered into their humble, hidden town that week.

As head of the Family, he’s exemplary. No one has ever wielded a blade quite like he has, his hand always steady and unflinching. His blessed hands bring prosperity to the land that has never been seen before, Ena’s favor raining down on him and his people. He is as revered as their god at this point, and there is nothing his people would not do for him.

The road trip you make every year to your parent’s house for Thanksgiving was a long one, and a sudden downpour along the way has you rolling to a stop in the nearest town. You plan to just take shelter at a restaurant and grab a bite to eat while you’re there, then fill up on gas and be on your merry way once everything clears up. 

Everyone is so kind, though. The locals in the restaurant make conversation with you, asking about your life and cooing at you once you explain that you’re on your way to visit your family. You spend most of your time talking to the people at the table next to you, a man and his sister, and you get so lost in conversation that you haven’t even realized night has fallen. You pay your bill and are ready to head out when the man stops you.

“You should stay the night at one of the inns,” he advises, a delicate hand placed on your shoulder. “There are still storm clouds, and it could start pouring again at any moment. It would be unfortunate to have to travel through that, especially at night.”

You check the forecast, and to your dismay, he’s right. With his help, you check into a hotel across the street, and you thank him for his assistance before you turn in for the night.

Your peaceful sleep is soon disrupted by a rag being held over your mouth and nose, startling you awake. At this point, you’ve already breathed in the chloroform, and you barely have time to register the formless figures around your bed dressed in shades of white and navy blue before you pass out.

You wake up in an underground cellar, stone walls encasing you in cold nothingness. There are four other people in the room with you, also bound and gagged and staring back at you with wide-eyed terror. There are screams of pain echoing down the stairs from somewhere above you all, the sound of synchronized chanting doing little to mask it.

It’s not difficult to guess what fate awaits you.

Young children dressed in extremely formal clothing bring you all food and water. They’re sweet to you all, terribly so. You’re not sure how long you’re down there, but the time you have left is counted down with each person that is taken out of the room. There are new people brought into the cellar, but once the original four you were with are gone, you know your time has come.

The next time the shapeless people in robes descend the steps, they reach for you. You’re injected with some kind of sedative before you even have the chance to lash out at them, and the blindfold they place over your eyes seems pointless, since you black out, anyways.

When you wake, your arms and legs are bound to some kind of marble slab that you’ve been laid on. You’ve been stripped, and your skin is covered in some kind of oil. It’s cold, and the vulnerability of being exposed just makes your situation all the worse.

Your breath hitches and your pitiful, muffled cries for help stop when you feel something sharp prick your skin. Sunday lightly applies pressure to the knife in his hand, carving beautiful patterns along the surface of your skin. With his free hand, he traces a gloved finger over the beads of blood the blade leaves behind, his touch so devout it’s downright sinful. The sight of you brings him pause, the knife stopping all too suddenly.

It is the first time he has hesitated during a ritual.

Perhaps… you’re not meant to be sacrificed. No, surely something as divine as you is meant for much more than that. Perhaps Ena has lured you here just for him, a reward for his unwavering faith, steady leadership, and all he has done for their people.

“As the highest among us,” Mr. Wood had said the day he named Sunday the new head of the Family, “you have first pick at reaping Ena’s blessings.”

Ena is not a kind god. But perhaps, just this once, they would allow him to be selfish.

[fairyhaos]

seventeen and babysitting kids

ib the return of superman w svt bc i watched all the eps w jeonghao + junshua recently and it made me soft :((

masterlist

seungcheol:

better with kids than some of the others, but cautious. has the experience to take care of the child, but he's worried about coming off as too mean or harsh bc he's used to dealing with grown men with the mannerisms of children instead of actual children n he's too afraid of making the children cry if he's too strict w them. is very Parent when it comes to looking after the child, like, literally acts like their mom and makes them eat their vegetables and fusses over them when they spill something and makes sure they go to bed on time. the efficient person when it comes to looking after children

jeonghan:

he's so sweet. maybe a little too sweet bc as soon as the child is making the slightest whining noises he's dropping everything and doing aegyo or getting out all the toys or offering snacks bc god forbid a child starts crying in his care :((( good at being all gentle wheedler when he's exhausted out of his mind tho but he's just so weak that he doesn't do it often. lets them stay up half an hour past their bedtime. plays hide and seek with them a total of twelve times in a row. he's exhausted by the end of it, but the parents are smiling and the child is telling them how much they adore jeonghan and really that makes it all worth it for him

joshua:

the adorable uncle!! spends fifteen whole minutes explaining his name to the child, before giving up and telling them to call him jisoo. which leads to even more confusion bc he has two names???? what???? very excitable, but also clueless. he's an only child, what can he say? lets the kid get away with most things. when he inevitably exhausts himself two hours in by going way too hard while playing chase, he speaks in a cutesy tone and tries to convince the child to play some more sitting down activities. it always works, and honestly even tho he's terrible at puzzles it's better than going thru fitness training for five hrs straight

junhui:

eagerly participates in the child's made up games! pretends he's a superhero spy with them, pretends he's a magic prince(ess) with them, pretends they're pirates and encounter a ginormous sea monster with them. forgets to feed the child dinner because they're too busy playing, and so he lets them eat a whole hour after their bed time and because they're so late it takes ages to wash up and tuck the child into bed and eventually, the kid is only just going to sleep and it's three am and the parents are pulling up to the front of the house. but it's okay, because the child had fun and junhui had fun too

hoshi:

loves it the most when the children pretend they're animals. or if they have animal toys. managed to get into a fight with one of the kids once bc they wanted to be a tiger and soonyoung insisted that only he could be a tiger. almost made the child cry before eventually agreeing that they could both be tigers. gets hungry really quickly, so he ends up eating half of the child's dinner, then gives them loads of junk food to compensate for it. bad idea though, because now he has a child that's bouncing off the walls and it takes him hours to convince them to Not try and be spiderman and climb the walls and to Please get into bed because your parents are going to be home any minute and they are going to Obliterate me if you're still up

wonwoo:

he's chill. acts like a ghost that's simply observing the child's movements. only speaks when they start doing something they shouldn't or when it's time for dinner or when they should go up and get ready for bed. sometimes plays with the child if they ask him really nicely, but most of the time he's zoned out and staring at the wall, letting the child do whatever they want (so long as it's within the rules that he's been given)

jihoon:

awkward with children. doesn't know what to do. introduces himself and then holds out his hand for the child to shake. sits on the couch like he's ready to bolt any second. ends up putting the tv on for the child so that the silence in the room isn't too deafening. definitely warms up more as the night goes on, and ends up engaging in conversation with the child about how their life is at school. he forgets the names of all the children that the kid mentions though so he has no idea who has drama with who and how they're all connected but he nods and frowns and gasps in what he hopes are all the right places

minghao:

he loves children. so eager to play with them, encourages them to introduce all their toys to him and their histories and their relationships. shows them his cool hand tricks, has them gaping at him in awe for several minutes after. he's very shy, surprisingly, so desperately wanting to be all hyper and loud with the child but worried it will come off as too excitable. tries to teach the child better habits, too, talking to them about handling emotions and how emotional manipulation w tears will Not work on him, nice try. makes sure they eat their greens, and helps them brush their teeth as they get ready for bed. reads them a book and does one last finger trick before patting them on the head goodnight <;3

mingyu:

dramatic. big baby. literally acts like a child too. by the end of the evening, he's made a new friend and has pinky promised thrice that he'll come over some time for a proper play date with them. lets the child do whatever they want, with him and just in general. doesn't force the child to eat their greens bc honestly he finds those yuck too, and lets them go to bed later bc they gave him the most adorable puppy eyes and he's weak for that. reads them like five bedtime stories, acts out two of them, and would have definitely sung a song as well if he hadn't gotten a text saying the parents were coming home. rated 10/10 by all the children he's looked after

dokyeom:

the sweetest :(((( literally the most adorable with kids. treats them as if they're his younger siblings. is unintentionally doing aegyo the entire time he's with them bc he's just being influenced by so much cuteness all around him that he does it too. lets the child play with his hair, his clothes, his fingers. does the child's hair for them when they ask, and throws them into the air so many times that the child is almost sick all over him. plays hide and seek several times, two of which he was the one hiding from the child. almost forgets to put the child to bed, but then tucks them in really nicely and sings to them so sweetly. can't leave the room until the child falls asleep tho bc they insisted on grabbing onto his fingers and won't let go bc they're afraid he'll go away :((

seungkwan:

very fussy over children. dotes on them like he's a rich musty aunt, pinching their cheeks and calling them adorable every five seconds. participates in their made up games, but is hit with reality minimum three times every game bc even though he loves pretending he's a princess dressed in a pink and purple dress, it does feel weird when reality slaps you across the face. very good at Following the Schedule, and becomes almost sergeant-like while the child is brushing their teeth, standing over them and measuring the time to make sure they're doing it correctly. kisses the child on the forehead goodnight, giving their cheeks one last squeeze before tucking them in for the night

hansol:

kinda just there to have food. he's good with children tho, paying the right amount of attention to them and making all the exaggerated facial expressions that they adore. finds kids rlly adorable, but also just kinda sits there n munches on snacks half the time. asks the child how much english they know, quizzes them on the numbers from 1 to 100. all in all he's pretty good with children, feeding them on time and getting them to bed on time. ends up being so good that they fall asleep a long while before the parents come home, so he's just kinda sitting on the couch n staring at the wall for a while

chan:

literally acts like a child too (2). great with kids and matches their energy immaculately. isn't really into dressing up or chasing, but he's great at made up games and board games. once spent the entire evening playing snakes and ladders, bc it was a tense match okay and he was sure the child had to be cheating bc how were they always ahead of him?? makes sure they eat their food properly + very good at convincing them their veggies taste delicious. watches the child jump on their bed for a solid ten minutes, despite having been given express instructions to Not let the child jump on the bed, but really, how can he say no when theyre so adorable?

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[edensdahlia]

༊*·˚ Next Door Slut

CHARACTERS: Simon Riley x M! Reader (F! Reader here)

RATING: NSFW

CONTENTS: Civilian reader, male masturbation (solo + assisted), slightly possessive + jealous Simon, he’s your neighbor, mentions of smoking, reader is implied to have slept around, may be tense issues in the writing, protected sex (stay safe y’all), anal fingering, multiple orgasms, biting, brief mention of blood, praise, nicknames used: love, sweetheart

ೃ⁀➷ WORD COUNT: 2.4K

Simon was trying to sleep- truly he was. Perhaps one of the least odd facts about the man concerned his sleeping schedule, particularly his fondness of early bedtimes. Maybe it was the remnants of being forced awake at ungodly hours of the morning or something simpler like the comfort found in routine. Regardless, it didn’t change the fact that it was you who was disturbing his much-needed rest- you and whatever guy you’d managed to pick up this time.

The apartment walls were made of shitty drywall and thin enough that they left no room for the imagination as your headboard banged noisily against the wall parallel to his bed. There was no rhythm to it, just sloppy, stuttering, sounds that matched the cadence of your moans. They were cheap, spilling from you easily with a pitch that was too high. Too fake. He could recognize the underlying falsity in them but that didn’t stop his shorts from tenting. His body acted before his mind could stamp down the rush of heat. It was annoying how easily you could rile him up without even trying; without knowing.

Simon ran a hand reluctantly over his arousal, hissing quietly. You let out another moan, this one higher than the last, a choking gasp of a name. From the sound of it, your voice was being muffled by pillows- and Simon could almost imagine it, the arch of your back, your mouth hanging open- and god it wasn’t fair. The way these men got to have you. You with your bright eyes and teasing smile.

This hadn’t been the first time you’d brought someone back to your apartment. Far from it in fact. He’d grown almost used to the sound of you lost in your pleasures, except he knew you didn’t take enjoyment in it. The moans you uttered now were only for the sake of the man above you, nothing like the ones you made when you were by yourself. When you thought no one could hear. But he did. Oh, Simon heard it every time, and without fail it landed him where he was now.

Hand fisting his cock, slick sounds joining with your moans. For a moment Simon let himself imagine it was him drawing those noises from you. Imagined it was him above you fucking you into the mattress, with nothing on your lips except his name. There was an added feeling lurking in his stomach, one that wasn’t spurred on by his overwhelming need to get off. One which he didn’t want to admit the existence of. 

After all, you were just his neighbor who he occasionally spoke to. It was already embarrassing enough that he was sitting here stroking one out to you, he didn’t need his mind plagued by jealous thoughts of how much better he could treat you.

Simon shifted, his body burning as he dug his heels into his mattress and pressed his nail into his slit. It drew a strange guttural sound from him, one you mimicked in the form of a shaking whine as you came. Or pretended to at least. It wasn't fair. His hips canted upwards, and he came with a muffled groan, his spend coating his hand and the lower half of his shirt.

On the other side of the wall, it fell silent. Exhausted Simon used his shirt to clean his hand and then he pulled the material up and over his head, tossing it to the other side of his room. His head hit his pillows and it didn’t take long before his breathing went ragged and then slowed. The last thought on his mind was of your face twisted in pleasure below him.

♡ 。

There was a light breeze blowing through the compound and on any other day, it would have felt nice except it was hindering Simon’s ability to get his lighter to fucking work. Frustrated he thumbed the serrated metal wheel, hand cupped cautiously around the non-existent flame until finally, it sputtered to life catching the butt end of his cigarette. 

Satisfied Simon drew in a long breath relaxing as he felt the first hit settle the restless jitter that seemed to reside deep in his bones. Exhaling slowly he began sorting through his mail, smoke curling lazily above his head. 

“Late morning?”

The sound of your voice so close behind him had Simon tensing memories of last night flooding back to him full force. It hit like a punch to the stomach and had he been a lesser man he would’ve grimaced in shame from the knowledge of what he’d done. Instead, he flicked his gaze to you watching from the corner of his eye as you jammed your key into the mailbox next to his and turned it. 

“You were loud last night. Could hear you through the damn walls.” Simon grunted returning his wandering gaze back to his mail but not before he saw the mortified look that passed your face. It satisfied something within him that he couldn’t put a name on. Your embarrassment at being caught tasted sweet in his mouth, like a reward. 

Your mailbox slammed closed hurriedly the metallic bang! filling the silence momentarily. “I’m sorry- I didn’t realize.”  You choked out. He watched as you retreated quickly your footsteps hurried. 

Simon wasn’t sure what possessed him- maybe it was the unsatisfied feeling his orgasm had left him with or the building sense of jealousy he was finally admitting may be there- but he turned dropping the cig and stomping it out. His voice called after you in a low growl. “If it was me you wouldn’t have to pretend love.” 

He watched as you stalled, shoulders hunching upwards towards your ears and then lowering just slightly. For a moment Simon thought you would run away but you turned gaze meeting his. “Who says I was pretending?” Your tone bordered on defensive, but there was a challenge hidden behind them. Lurking beneath the surface. 

Simon’s mouth twitched the barest hint of a smile forming. That was the man he knew. Your embarrassment was delightful but the fire was what he longed for. He sought after the bite in your words if only so he could imagine smothering them with his mouth. Soothing away the edge in your voice with his skin pressed to every inch of you. 

Every thought in his mind was consumed with the idea of ruining you and they only got worse as he approached, his face a portrait of lust. He stopped when you two stood side by side, arms just barely brushing, the warmth enough to send shivers up your spine. 

“Prove it.” 

The words were barely there, a low whisper that could have easily been mistaken for the wind. You shivered again but this time for a different reason as Simon continued past you, not even sparing a glance back. His words lingered in the empty space he had left behind; an open invitation to learn more about the man who until presently had been nothing more than a quick conversation. 

♡ 。

Getting to his bedroom was a lot harder than Simon had initially expected. From the moment the door had closed behind you your mouth had been on him as if you were starving and he was the only thing that could satiate your hunger. 

Simon would make sure that he was. 

He couldn’t stand the idea of someone else having you like this and hated the thought that some had. It made his hands itch, burning with the need to have them around something- the trigger of a gun, or the handle of a knife- anything to bring him that familiar sense of control. Neither were near so he dug them into the fat of your hips instead. 

You stumbled through the hallway together teeth knocking as you kissed, fingers bruising skin from where you pulled at each other as if you both were trying to tear the other apart at the seams. Halfway through the door to his bedroom, your clothes were discarded, pulled off in a blur of wandering hands and impatient touches. 

Simon pushed you back onto his bed so that your legs dangled just over the edge. It seemed almost perverse to think about how only mere hours ago he had laid there getting himself off to the sound of your moans. But God, he’d be lying if it didn’t get him harder still, especially when you were looking at him in a way that could only be described as sinful- mouth parted and swollen, eyes half-lidded as if he’d done more than kiss you stupid. 

Everything you did was maddening. Terribly maddening. Simon rested his hands on either side of your face, his body bent over yours. Slowly he lowered himself down to his elbows. His tongue traced over the corner of your mouth, cleaning away a smear of blood that had found its way there, most likely his own doing. “I am going to ruin you.” 

His mouth descended lower burning hot against your already flushed skin and you writhed as sunk his teeth into the soft flesh of your chest, his canines piercing the skin and coming away red. He licked them clean and you watched the slow bob of his Adam's apple. Your voice shook just slightly, “Is that a promise?” He nipped at your hip, hand sliding beneath the band of your underwear and slipping them down past your thighs.

Simon smiled against your skin. “I can promise that once I’m done with you no man will be able to satisfy you like me.” His voice was a low husk against the inner skin of your thigh, his eyes heady as they took in the sight of your exposed hole.

He gathered the pre from your leaking cock and slowly, experimentally pushed a finger into you and then a second picking up in pace as he fucked them into you. You squirmed as his other hand sought out your cock, grip firm as he stroked you at the same pace as his fingers.

“Simon-“ You huffed the stimulation growing to be too much. It’d been far too long since you’d had this kind of focus on you and it made your legs shake. Your orgasm was fast approaching and it seemed that it was his goal to get you there. He twisted his fingers in just the right way that had your head slamming back against the mattress a broken moan being ripped from your chest.

Despite your weak protests, Simon pulled away bringing the hand that was covered in your pre to his mouth, cleaning it off before smiling victoriously.

“Now that was real sweetheart- and I didn’t even have to use my cock.” He swiped his thumb across the head of your cock watching the way you twitched around his fingers, head falling to the side as you let out a small whimper in response. “God you’re breathtaking. How could those tossers not want this?”

“Most of them were drunk-“ You hedged, unsure why you were attempting to defend them. Simon wasn’t having that though. His hand latched back onto you and any thoughts of those other men died at the way his fingers began to work you open again.

It didn’t take long after that to reach your high. You came with a wrecked gasp of his name, grip tightening around the blonde curls on top of his head, your other finding his wrist and holding it in place. Simon gave you a minute to ride it out fingers fucking into you still albeit at a slower pace. Eventually, you relaxed your legs falling around his shoulders loosely, eyes fluttering closed.

The sound of tinfoil being ripped open brought your eyes back to his and then down to where he was rolling the condom onto himself. You held your breath as he slicked the length of him with lube. He was big. Bigger than you had expected.

Simon’s gaze was locked on yours as he resumed his earlier position bent over you. “You okay there sweetheart?” He asked teasingly, using one hand to push your leg up towards your chest and the other to guide himself slowly towards your entrance. You nodded, exhaling slowly.

“There you go love, breathe. I’ll go easy on you.” Simon murmured pushing forward his cock stretching you painfully as he entered inch by inch. He ran his nails up your side soothingly, occasionally stopping to trace over the already bruising bite marks he had left against your skin. His gaze seemed almost affectionate as he admired them.

Once he was sure you had adjusted to the size of him Simon pulled back dragging himself out of you slowly. It took everything in you not to sob as he slammed back into you, picking up a brutal pace that contradicted his earlier words and had you digging your nails into his bicep.

“You’re doing so well sweetheart-” Simon grunted pushing your leg down further against your chest, stretching it in a way that made it ache. His gaze tracked each expression on your face, each twitch of your walls around him. Enthralled with the way your moans spilled from your chest wrecked and shuddering- as if you couldn’t hold them in but were desperately trying to. If you would have opened your eyes you would have seen the almost affectionate look that crossed his face.

As it was you didn’t notice- far too consumed with the feeling of him hitting all the right spots in you and your all too quickly approaching orgasm. And then he pushed your other leg up, joining your first one, and the new angle forced you over the edge. Almost blindingly quick your second orgasm took you. It was a dry orgasm your cock spent from the first but it sent shivers of pleasure up your body nonetheless. You sobbed as Simon pressed his face into your neck and continued his rough pace.

He could feel your hole squeezing him, sucking him in, your body twitching in his grasp. It was driving him crazy. He groaned lowly as you tugged at his hair forcing his gaze to your fucked out expression. “Cum f’me Simon.” You pleaded and who was he to deny you when you asked so sweetly? His hips stuttered against yours, his moan smothered against your mouth as he finally let himself tip over into bliss.

A minute passed and Simon removed himself from you slowly, leaving to toss the condom and returning with a wash rag. He wiped your flushed body down as best he could making sure to be gentle around the bruised bitemarks littering your skin.

“Well?” You murmured as he swiped the rag across your stomach.

“Well, what?”

“Do you think I was pretending with those guys?”

He hummed resuming his cleaning.

“I’m not sure. I think we’ll have to do this again.”

A/N: I just know my notes app is absolutely sick of me- the amount of drafts it has for this fic alone... I have no clue why but I just can’t stay in one document while writing :,) Anyway, if you got to this point thank you for taking the time to read this! Have a wonderful day! (≧∇≦)/ ♡

[grimmsbride]

❛Stuck to the screen, your words repeating. ❜ ⸺ Kamo Choso

【⠀♱⠀】 SYNOPSIS. after a long night of gaming, choso helps you fall asleep with his.. soothing voice.

【⠀♱⠀】 WARNINGS. ooc choso | soft dom! choso | phone [more like voice chat] sex | not public sex but there was the threat of reader’s friends joining since it’s a public vc | porn no plot | reader & choso are gamers | mutual pining | mutual masterubation | overuse of pet names | choso is a tease | choso uses “mama” idc idc, it fits him [TO ME] | etc. if i forgot something let me know.

【⠀♱⠀】 AUTHOR’S NOTE. it’s the way i’m thinking about other things except piv sex, which is very exciting cause the shit got repetitive on my other acc. PLEASE EXCUSE ANY GRAMMAR MISTAKES.

People that claimed gaming was a perfect past time were either naive or just plain stupid. How could one find the competitive, and nerve wracking hobby peaceful? There was always something going wrong. Whether having an awful teammate,a a bad day, or even— something as silly as bad luck.

Personally you didn’t love video games. You had no plans of getting shouted at by grown men over a digital creation, which stats didn’t affect you in real life. But.. as your friends usually did, they lured you into gaming.

Quickly too, giving you tips and tricks to assure you didn’t drag the rest of them down. And as much as you hated to admit it, you actually enjoyed it. Clicking with the rest of your friends, especially a man around your age named Kamo Choso.

During group meet ups you and him spoke pleasantly on just about everything. Life, his siblings, shared music interest.. you two clicked deeper then you have with anyone else.

An innocent connection you felt were developing into feelings..

Manicured fingers slammed into the keyboard rested on the desk, whilst soft swears escaped your lips. You blinked at the bright screen, sighing heavily the moment defeat in bold red letters flashed across it.

“This is our fifth loss in a row..” You moaned in annoyance, leaning back in your chair; adjusting the black headset you wore carefully. A soft chuckle came from the other line, taking you away from your annoyed thoughts.

“You suck when you’re tired..”

“I’m not tired, Choso.” You countered quickly, rolling your eyes the moment another chuckle came from the man. You breathed softly, clicking off the game screen and switching over to discord. Your eyes traced the computer for a moment.

Choso and you were the only ones currently awake or rather currently in the voice chat, and have been for the past hour and thirty-minutes. You hadn’t meant to play this long, however you sometimes got carried away.

You heard shuffling on the other side of the headset, causing you to gently grab your mic. “Are you going to sleep?”

“Are you?” Choso asked in a soft hum.

Your lips twisted in uncertainty, thinking over your options. The two of you could play another round and risk losing for the sixth time— or maybe try another game.. and still lose. Either one didn’t seem like good choices, but, you didn’t want to get off the chat with Choso; just yet.

So, with a soft hum you shook your head before replying with a quick “No,” when you realized he couldn’t see.

The man gave a curt sound, one that was surely of confusion. “Then.. do you want to go another round?”

“No..” You sighed, rising from your chair to waltz over to your bed. You landed upon the cushiony mattress harshly, rolling onto your back and laying in a starfish position. “You should read me a bedtime story or something.”

“I thought you weren’t tired?”

You could practically hear the smirk in his words, causing your lips to twitch— attempting to force down a smile. You rolled to your side, closing your eyes. “I’m not,” You said defensively, adjusting yourself into a comfortable position on the bed. “—but I do need to go to sleep, and you have a soothing voice.”

For a moment you couldn’t hear a thing, only your own breathing— making you worry the voice chat had lagged out. But as quickly as those thoughts came they left even quicker, given the man was replying with a simple;

“Yeah?”

You smiled slowly, smoothing your cheek into the soft pillow. “Yeah..”

Choso paused for a moment before uttering, “Hm.. I’m sure you just have a voice kink.”

Your eyes opened wide at his statement, eyebrows pinched close as a warmth spread across you. Did.. did he just read you like a book? Was the single thought in your mind, causing you to slowly sit up to think it over.

And yet, he didn’t give you that moment, interjecting before you could even think to reply; “What, did I hit it right on the mark? I was only joking..”

You’ve talked to Choso many times to know when he was joking or not— plus you weren’t an idiot, he was being dead serious.

So, you slowly cleared your throat, scooting back to rest against your headboard. “No, what even makes you think that?” You questioned, lying straight through your teeth. You bit back a grin the moment you heard an airy chuckle, ignoring how such a sound caused shivers to dance down your spine.

“It’s obvious. Every single time I talk to you, you have this same look in your eyes.” He hummed into your ear, causing your eyes to flutter shut. “Always listening, far too intently.. Eyes focused completely on my voice rather then my words. No wonder you always say huh, whenever we speak.”

Read after read— Choso wasn’t giving you air to breathe with these completely correct accusations. It wasn’t enough you were physically attracted to the man, no; you had to be head over heels for his voice too.

You opened your mouth to speak, only for Choso to cut in;

“Deny it, and I won’t help you fall asleep tonight..”

Your eyebrows rose, teeth biting the inside of your cheek as you fiddled with your pajamas. “What, you’re gonna read me a story after all?”

“Nah, I was thinking of something else,” His breath was airy, and you swore you could hear the rustling of fabric.

Such a thought caused the heat to pool down to your belly, thighs pushing together as excitement began to sprout. “..Thinking of what?”

Instead of answering you the man gave a soft, “Lie on your back.”

That same heat swept over you, almost daring to question him again but deciding against it. Instead, you were quickly sliding to you lay on your back; hand spreading across the sliver of stomach exposed from your rising shirt.

“I’m.. on my back.” You spoke, nibbling on lip your as your fingers absentmindly traced patterns upon your skin. Your eyes fluttered shut, head rolling back onto the pillow as anticipation welled in your stomach.

“Take your pants off,” Choso spoke again, before quickly adding, “—just your pants.”

You didn’t know whether to continue to be excited or annoyed he was dragging the obvious out— yet, you obeyed, again. Your thumbs hooked onto the elastic of your bottoms, tugging them down your body and kicking them to the edge of your bed. You laid there half-bare, waiting so impatiently for his next request.

“Now.. touch yourself.”

Your eyebrows pinched close for a moment, adjusting your position as your legs rose. “Won’t I need to take my panties off?” You asked playfully, fingers sliding under the fabric for a moment before his curt response caused your hand to retract;

“I never said to take them off. I only said to touch yourself.”

You hissed softly, fiddling with the waistband of your undergarments for a split second. You could just push them down now.. there was no way he could tell, right? It was only voice chat.

But, for some stupid reason.. You decided to listen, hand slithering between your legs to slowly stroke your covered folds through the thin fabric. The motions continued as the pleasure set in, your legs widening and soft breaths escaping.

From the other side you could hear Choso’s breathing become shallow with even more rustling following. You could just imagine it; him on his back, hair a mess from laying down and the headset, whilst his strong hand was slowly stroking himself through his boxers.

You wondered if he was leaking already; how there might be a wet spot slowly forming, darkening the fabric. Such a thought had your thighs clenching, finger delicately finding your bud below your panties.

The action caused your head to tilt back, lips parting as an audible gasp escaped.

“Oh, you sound so pretty, princess. So, so pretty..”

You whined softly at his words, feeling far more aroused despite the covered pleasure. Your other hand rose to slink under your shirt, grabbing ahold of your breast to roll your thumb on your slowly erecting nipple. The pleasure was increasing by now, yet still not enough— causing your frustration to build.

“Choso, please..”

“What, what’s wrong?” His voice was taunting and low, clearly aware of what you were practically begging for. “Don’t tell me you wanna take your panties off already?.. So impatient, sweetheart.”

Choso’s words were going straight to your pussy, wetting up the lacey fabric even more. Your hips rose to meet your hand, “Choso, fuck.. Just please, I need to take them off.”

He thought it over for far too long, even humming just to irritate you further. Though, you also heard more rustling and his bed.

Fuck.. how you wished you could see what was happening right now.

“Take ‘em off.”

You didn’t need to be told twice, practically shoving off the garment as if they had personally offended you. You then wasted no time in spreading your legs wide, hand falling between them to slowly separate your damp folds. There, your middle finger reached out; swiping across your swelling bud for a split moment— before beginning small, tight circles on it.

With nothing left to restraint you, your sounds were more vocal now — airy and sweet— driving right into Choso’s awaiting ears. This caused the man to breathe heavily right into the mic, followed by the sounds of wetness.

A flush of warmth escaped as the pleasure continued, moans waning as your combined actions dawned on you suddenly. Here you were, having voice chat sex with a friend, in a chat where just about anyone else could join— at any time. Sure, it was currently three in the morning but the threat still loomed over your head.

It seemed the man had sensed your nervousness given his sudden; “It’s only us on here, mama.. use that pretty voice, let me hear you while you fuck yourself.”

Just from his voice and the vulgarity you were keening, back arching as a finger slowly pushed into your awaiting entrance. The moment you adjusted you were curling the digit, moaning out as your stomach stirred with pleasure.

Choso was praising you at this point, “That’s it, good girl.. Keep playing with yourself,” He spoke, breath rushed with soft groans interrupting. His hand was tight around his throbbing length, thumb swiping at the slit and smoothing his pre-cum across his dick. “Bet your pretending your fingers are mine, huh?” A soft chuckle escaped him— “Or maybe my tongue?.. Or maybe even my dick?”

You swore at his words, a second finger pushing in as your thumb began to rub harsh circles on your clit. “Ch—Choso, fuck..!” You pinched your nipple between your fingers, legs threatening to close as your throat nearly became raw from your voice.

You were close, pussy throbbing around your fingers as arousal leaked down them. Your pace quickened, soft sounds surrounding the room and serving as background noise to the sweetest moans escaping your wet lips.

If only you could see Choso; his eyes rolling back, hips rising into his hand and pretending it was you. His groans were deep, bordering on whimpers each time his hand slipped up to his sensitive tip. He was close too, hissing as his eyelids fluttered shut.

“Come with me, mama.. wanna hear you, fu-fuck.. lemme hear you.” Choso spoke on shaky breath, tensing as his orgasm drew.

You whimpered into the mic, eyebrows pinched close as your fingers never stopped it’s thrusts. Far too quickly you were creaming, staining your skin with your essence which trickled down your taint to your soft blankets. During this you heard a sharp gasp, warmth covering your body and enjoying the soft sounds that followed.

You simply laid there, heavy breathing coinciding with Choso’s own. Your fingers slowly withdrew from between your legs, slick smoothing across your thighs.

“You sleepy now?”

You bit your cheek, “No. No I’m not.”

“Good, I’m coming over in te— five minutes.” Choso spoke rather quickly, before the familiar sound of the voice chat ending entered your ears.

COMMENTS & REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED <3

[preciouslandmermaid]

I’m thinking about Amy Pond this morning and how Moffat didn’t give her any identity outside of The Doctor (and Rory).

Like series 5, we go through this whole thing where Amy “gets her parents back” and we literally NEVER see them again. And then Amy’s childhood friend, who we had never heard of, is revealed to be tied to the Doctor as well.

She’s shown to be a successful model during series 6, but that fact doesn’t go anywhere. We don’t see her friends. We don’t even know if she HAS friends.

River Song also has a similar problem—her story is intrinsically tied to the Doctor. And although Amy and River are technically mother and daughter, we don’t really get to see that, like does River come around and visit her parents when not traveling with the Doctor? What do they talk about ??

And on the note about children, iirc, Amy can’t (?) have any more children due to what her kidnappers did to her. But, on the same hand, it was never said that Amy wanted children or was upset that she missed out on the opportunity to raise Melody (it’s literally never mentioned again).

All the of NuWho companions, save for Martha, wanted to travel with the Doctor forever and ultimately their stories end in tragedy. I get that.

But then other companions, like Rose, Martha, and Donna - they all had people OUTSIDE the Doctor, which grounded them, tied to their humanity, to their earthly humanness.

I love Amy, but she is subjected to some poor writing choices. I know the viewers can fill in the blanks - we can assume she and Rory have lives outside traveling with the Doctor. But without seeing these people, it’s hard to connect when let’s say Earth is threatened. When the cyber men were trying to take over, Rose was concerned about her mum ! And we were too! Because we saw her mum and saw how much Rose loved her.

I know Amy’s arc ultimately ends with her “choosing Rory” (I guess because idk this wasn’t made clear when she married the guy idk).

But, consider this, consider how much more impactful her story would’ve been if she had like - I dunno - a sweet grandma who would tell her bedtime stories. The grandma gets some quips in about The Doctors fashion choices.

Rather than the Doctor realizing the Ponds are getting older (Amy’s glasses), it’s Amy realizing that her grandma is getting older, and the allure of traveling the stars is fading. She realizes that she wants to have her own child to tell stories to. And she wants her grandma to be alive to share in those stories. Hell, maybe she still finds a love for writing and becomes an author.

Amy makes the choice (much like Martha did) to leave the TARDIS. Rory comes too (I do think Moffat disliked Rory but that’s another topic). The Doctor is welcome to visit.

And when he does, he sees a slightly older Amy Pond, carrying a child that looks just like her, towards her grandmother in a wheelchair in the garden.

They let each other go. Unlike Rose and Ten who simply couldn’t let go because of the deep love they had for another.

The Doctor and Amy (or maybe it’s just Amy) have “grown up”. Amy has made a choice FOR HERSELF. After everything she’s seen, endured, all the trauma and suffering and grief - she creates her own happy ending.

It’s 8:00am right now - so who knows if this makes sense.

[bcolfanfic]

Mollie I’m sitting on my knees with my hands out begging for the young veteran au HC’s with Gale and John’s adopted daughter 🤲🏻

(modern) young vets au - josie cleven-egan’s version™️

they talk about it once not long after they get back to the states- but that conversation ultimately comes down to deciding to revisit it when bucky’s ptsd is more under control.

and if it just isn’t something that works out for them- or bucky doesn’t feel ready ever then that’s okay too.

but bucky wants it. which takes some work, and time and tears and gale wanting to fire every single person at the sheridan VA office.

he gets there though, and gale is so damn proud of his husband.

when they revisit the kids thing they consider going to the infant adoption route but ultimately decide to go through an agency that places waiting kids in the foster system whose parental rights have already been terminated. surrogacy isn't something either of them really bring up except to bypass it.

it’s a smidge because bucky is intimidated by literal babies. just a smidge. 

they eventually get a call about a four year old little girl named josie and the information the social worker sends over about her breaks their sweet hearts. 

they both have their own shit from the war, but they’re grown men and trying to wrap their minds around a four year old having trauma that almost rivals their own makes them sick. 

damn taking a few days to call back like her social worker offers, they call back by the end of the night to ask when they need to be ready. 

sweet little josie shows up with a hello kitty suitcase at 8pm on a tuesday. gale and bucky love her instantly in a way that they struggle to really articulate. 

it just makes sense, her little face looking up at them when she’s sitting on the floor pulling her shoes off. she’s home. 

she clicks with bucky immediately, who takes to calling her jojo which she rolls with happily. but gale freaks himself out about suddenly actually being a parent and takes a little longer to find his footing. 

which makes him a little insecure when she seems more hesitant around him than she does bucky. it doesn’t necessarily help that bucky is the one home all day- and the one time he has to leave for an evening and isn’t there for bedtime poor josie absolutely flips out. 

her and gale both end up in tears by the time she’s actually clonking out, bless their hearts. 

she tuckers herself out and falls asleep in his arms. but man does poor gale feel like he’s absolutely useless having spent the past couple hours listen to her scream for daddy to come home like he’s just some babysitter. 

it hurts bucky’s heart when he’s home and gale is venting about it. he knows that man was born to be a dad and that their baby loves him, they just maybe need a little more one on one time. and gale needs to get out of his head about becoming his own father because, as bucky puts it- he’s nothing like that sack of shit and never will be. 

they spend more one and one time together, gale bringing her to the school he substitute teaches at when he’s just going in to plan over the weekend. she’s content to color on printer paper while he works, parking herself on his knees. it’s the first time she does that, and bucky beams at the photo he texts him. 

my buddy, at last! 👍🏼

the first time she calls gale daddy as opposed to “um, mis-ter cle’n” he cries. bucky cries. everyone cries. 

then raises the issue of figuring out how to differentiate between the two of them. they land on gale being daddy and bucky being papa. 

bucky jokes that it makes him feel he’s on little house on the prairie, but it’s fine. he’d let his darling jojo call him anything she damn well pleased. 

the day they make it official at the courthouse, as many of the guys as are free fly in to be there and celebrate with them. crosby brings his herd of kids and watching them run around with the newest little cleven-egan makes him emotional. 

“you cryin’ croz?”

“thinkin’ about when we were overseas. didn’t know if we’d be alive by the end of the week. but now look at our lives,” he says, swiping at his eyes. bucky smiles and rubs his shoulder, feeling choked up for about the fifth time that day. 

“it all worked out, huh?”

[xo-cod]

A fantasy that has been on my mind for some time is being in the poly with the tf141 and having 4 kids that clearly belong to each one of them but all of them treat the others like their own.

I'm just gonna put that idea in your head and run away do what you want with it👀👀👀

ps: I love aaaall your fics but especially how you write the poly ones 😘👌

thank you, my love <33 i hope you enjoy this, i think i misinterpreted this but i loved it so bad :")

4 men + 4 children + you = a recipe for disaster (lovingly)

they all treat the children as their own, there isn't any favouritism shown in front of the children (obvs the dads to each corresponding child would bond a little more closer to them but you get the gist)

it's simply a tradition for each child to receive a kiss before the men go off to work. soap and ghost have rushed out in a hurry but quickly do a u turn and come back to press a tender kiss to the children and then you and then they leave in a hurry

it's a loud chaotic house (assuming you all live together) but you're never alone in taking care of the kids

simon does cooking, price does the cleaning, gaz and johnny washes up and you entertain the children and get them all ready for bed (yes they do the cooking and the cleaning ‼️)

bedtime stories. all the babies cuddled up on their own dad's chest while you read a story for them, resulting in most days waking up to see them sleeping all in one bed since no one had the heart to move the sleeping babies from their chest

deployment can get very hard even if their hours are cut and it draws heavy on their hearts too, being away from you and their baby. each man makes it up to you always <3

but each of the children taking after their dad :") i made the kids into girls, they're such girl dads 😩

price's daughter: a gem. naturally a little more quiet but she's compassionate and a great listener. her heart is gold, always making sure that those around her are good and well. she's is a natural charmer, an observer and a listener. somehow always knowing the solution to the problem wherever all the kids get into trouble.

simon's daughter: she's got the sass from her father. doesn't take shit from no one but a total affectionate baby underneath. loves deeply, always wants the best for everyone. fiercely protective even from a tiny age, somehow always managing to get into trouble in wanting to use the "grown up" weapons instead of the baby ones simon had to buy to make sure there were no injuries since she was so curious. get into a lil bit (or a lot bit) of trouble because they want to train like the soldiers

gaz's daughter: a curious little thing, she is. her eyes always hold interest in whatever is placed in front of her. interested in how everything works, a hard worker. albeit she get into trouble sometimes because she likes testing her limits and somehow always falling off from things which results in her dad getting mini panic attacks everytime she isn't in sight.

johnny's daughter: a breath of fresh air. so much laughter packed in her tiny lungs, hyperactive always, trying to make the best of every situation. always able to make you smile, no matter what state you're in. little ball of sunshine, giggles sure to put you out of a bad mood. and the total prankster of the group. so very sneaky but so innocent looking so nobody suspects a thing

and then imagine if the kids all had total different personalities. price's kid is like gaz, simon's kid is like price, gaz's kid is like johnny and soap's kid is like simon lmfao. it would be so fun to see how they react <3

[archangeldyke-all]

HIIIII ANGELLLL

SEVIKA WITH A PLUSHY I REPEAT SEVIKA WITH A PLUSHY. I know you did a small thing about reader with plushies but I thought it’d be cute for Sevika to be the one with plushies. Maybe reader stays over for the first time and finds her plushie collection hidden somewhere. Sevika would for sure deny and get insecure that it’s hers but READER JUST FINDS IT CUTE. I defo think she has the one she had since she was a baby that she still sleeps with. Perhaps it’s a small collection of those tiny beanie babies which she had a obsession with when she was younger (and still is obsessed with) or those squish mellow stuffies. (She has names for them too)

Thank you pookie 😩

WAHHHHHH

men and minors dni

sevika doesn't have many personal mementos or keepsakes. she's not a sentimental person, and she didn't have a lot growing up to hold onto. but there is one thing that she holds near and dear to her heart.

'stinky bear.'

stinky bear is a tiny little plushy, about the size of a beanie baby, that can fit comfortably in the palm of her large hand now. she's had it since she was a kid, it was the first stuffy her parents got her, and the only one she ever seemed to like.

she took him everywhere when she was a kid, shoving him in her back pocket and toting him all around town.

she only stopped taking him everywhere when, one tragic day at the ripe age of four and a half, sevika dropped stinky bear in the street, and watched in horror as a car ran right over him.

he was rescued, but he was never the same. his fluffy brown fur was matted, his head was separated from his body, one of his eyes missing. her mom tried her best to put him back together, throwing him in the wash and stitching his head back on with a chunky purple yarn, replacing his missing eye with a spare black button.

after that day, sevika started leaving stinky bear in her bed, treating him with gentle, reverent care, only touching him at bedtime, curling him into her arms and holding him tight to her chest.

sevika had to grow up way too fast. by the time she was ten, she was numb to the horrors of the world. she bulked up and taught herself how to fight, how to blend in and go without notice, and when to stand out and speak up. all her toys and childish games losing their whimsy as she became more and more disillusioned.

but she could never find it in her to let go of stinky bear.

not when she's been holding him every night since she was a baby. not when he's been by her side through thick and thin, soaking up her silent tears every single night. not when he's been through so much already.

stinky bear could stay.

stinky bear did stay.

when sevika moved out on her own, leaving her old drunkard of a father and the ashes of her mother on the mantel behind, stinky bear came with her.

he doesn't send the night in bed with her every night, now now that she's grown, but he sits on her bedside table permanently, ready and waiting for whenever sevika might need him.

and when she has nightmares, when she has horrible days at work, when she loses a fight or has a shitty hangover or feels alone, she reaches for stinky bear, curling her giant, grown body around the tiny, run down plushy.

when sevika has people over, stinky bear goes in the closet.

partly because she doesn't want to hear the teases her friends and co-workers and the girls from babette's are likely to throw out, partly because she's horrified of something happening to him while her back's turned.

she doesn't have people over often. in all her time in her apartment, she's had people over less than a dozen times, but still. stinky bear goes in the closet when she does. (sometimes in her fire-proof safe.)

and then she meets you.

the first few times you go over to sevika's place, you're way too preoccupied with her to notice anything else.

but after long enough, sevika and you become comfortable enough to just... hang out.

it's one of those kinds of dates, where you're really just existing in each other's space as one of you works or cleans or reads, when you first meet stinky bear.

sevika's reading and drinking, and you're taking a shower in her bathroom-- her water pressure is so much better than yours.

when you get out of the shower, you realize you forgot to grab a towel for yourself. so, you dart into sevika's bedroom and rifle through her closet looking for a towel.

you don't find any. but you do find stinky bear.

the sweet little plushy is sitting front and center in her closet, on top of a pile of neatly folded sweaters. it's clear that he's old and well loved-- his ears are a little crusty, his fur is stained and matted, he's got mismatched eyes, and he's sewn together with purple yarn across the neck.

your heart melts.

sevika has a stuffed animal.

you don't say anything about it, it's clear she doesn't want to talk about it if she's hidden it away like this. you just gently press a peck to the bear's little head and close the closet door.

when sevika asks you to move in with her, you expect her to finally introduce you to stinky bear.

she doesn't.

you feel almost bad.

sure, she's got you to hold now when she's having nightmares, and you're able to actually hold her back and comfort her with gentle words of affection. but you can tell stinky bear means something to her (especially when you catch her standing in her closet, gently stroking his fur one night.)

so, you decide to do something about it.

one morning as you're making the bed, you pull stinky bear out of the closet and gently place it on sevika's side of the bed, pulling the covers up underneath the tiny bear's chin, and giving it a kiss.

you don't say anything. you just leave it for her to find.

when she does (and she doesn't tell you this until you guys are married) she sobs.

the fact that you knew and you still didn't make her talk about it, knowing how hard words are for her-- the fact that you didn't tease her about it-- the fact that you treated stinky bear with such gentle regard, his head resting gently against her pillow, the his arms out over the blankets-- the fact that you knew she'd been missing him-- it makes her weak in the knees.

there's no conversation about it. but when you get home that night, you find sevika sleeping on top of the covers, stinky bear tucked into the crook of her arm as she snores.

when you crawl in beside her, she blinks awake, and you smile. she smiles shakily back at you.

"his name's stinky bear." she whispers, her voice raspy. you smile and lean forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead, then a much gentler one to stinky bear's.

and after that, stinky bear resides in you and sevika's bed, back where he belongs.

every morning, you tuck him into bed under the covers for sevika to come home to.

when you guys fuck in bed, you always pause to gently place the old stuffy on the bedside table-- facing away from the two of you, of course.

(and when you're done, you put him right back where he came from.)

each night, sevika sleeps where she always sleeps with you-- right on top of you, her head on one of your tits, her leg hiked up over yours.

but now, instead of her hand groping your free tit, she's gently holding stinky bear.

okay, are you ready to really cry?

when you guys have your daughter, sevika passes stinky bear down to her.

she loves the bear almost as much as she loves her mommas.

(and sometimes, when sevika's particularly upset or sick, you sneak stinky bear out of your daughter's sleeping arms and bring him to your bedroom for sevika to hold for a while.)

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki

[kc-writes-sometimes]

Crown and Kin | Chapter Eight

Ao3 Account | Masterlist

Chapter Eight: Revelations

(Daemon’s POV)

Word Count: 3,513

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Summary: Daemon navigates the growing complexities of fatherhood and his place in the ever-changing Red Keep. The delicate balance between duty and personal desire becomes clear as old alliances and hidden truths come to light. Daella, now embraced as a Targaryen, faces a new chapter in her life, while Daemon finds himself torn between his past and the responsibilities that come with his newfound role.

Themes & Warnings: 18+, Character Death, Rape/Non Con, Future Smut, Canon Typical Violence, Canon Typical Incest, Angst, Dad Daemon Targaryen, Bastards and Brothels, Fluff, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Canon Divergence, Dysfunctional Family, Team Black Centric, Slow Burn, Eventual Romance

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Daemon Targaryen

“Is it not bedtime for you too?" Daella asked, her head tilted in confusion as she gazed up at Daemon, her violet eyes reflecting the dim light of the chamber.

Daemon smiled faintly, catching the quizzical look on her young face. There was something about the innocence of a child’s question that had the power to pierce through the world’s weight. “Not for me,” he replied, his voice firm yet laced with the warmth that had grown in him since Daella entered his life. “I have business outside the Keep. You’ll be fine, little one. A guard will be stationed right outside the door if you need anything. Now, get some rest.”

She continued to stare up at him with wide eyes, still unsure, as if sensing there was more to his late-night departure. Daemon hesitated for a brief moment, feeling the tug of something unfamiliar: the urge to stay. It gnawed at him, but duty—an old, familiar companion—called louder.

He leaned over and tucked a strand of dark silver hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing her warm skin. She didn’t flinch away, her trust in him already unspoken and complete. He stood back up, his towering figure momentarily casting a shadow over the oversized bed before he turned toward the door. The heavy wooden frame creaked as he closed it, but his hand lingered on the handle for a moment longer than necessary. His mind was awash in thoughts of her—no longer just a bastard girl from Flea Bottom, but his daughter. His blood.

They had been sharing his childhood chambers ever since Daella’s arrival at the Red Keep. It had been his idea to keep her close—he told himself it was simply for convenience, but the truth ran deeper. He found comfort in her presence, watching over her as she slept, the rise and fall of her little form under thick blankets a reminder of how fragile and important she had become to him. It was an unfamiliar feeling, this quiet protectiveness, but it had rooted itself firmly in him.

Fatherhood had a way of creeping up on even the most untamed of men. Daemon, known for his reckless abandon and disregard for attachments, now found himself caring for this little girl more than he had ever anticipated. She had become the single tether in a life that had long been untethered.

These chambers had always been his refuge from the swirling politics of the Red Keep, a place he had once found solace. Now, they served as a barrier from the growing Hightower influence. Every day, the Keep felt less like the seat of Targaryen power and more like a fortress of the Faith. Alicent’s grip on Viserys—and the Keep itself—was tightening, and despite Otto’s removal, her presence had only grown stronger. The Faith of the Seven had crept into every corner, displacing the symbols of Old Valyria. The walls, once adorned with dragons, were slowly being overtaken by depictions of the Seven’s icons. It was as if the very soul of the Red Keep was being eroded.

Daemon clenched his fists as he made his way through the corridors. His boots struck the cold stone floor with sharp, measured steps, each echo a reminder of the battle that was being fought within the Keep’s walls—a battle without swords or blood, but one that was just as dangerous. The few servants still awake lowered their heads as he passed, avoiding eye contact with the Rogue Prince, their wariness a reflection of his simmering temper.

Once outside, the cool night air hit his face, offering a momentary reprieve from the tension knotted in his chest. He inhaled deeply, letting the crisp breeze fill his lungs. For a moment, he stood still, gazing up at the moon as it hung high over King’s Landing, casting long shadows across the sleeping city. The streets below, though quieter at this hour, still thrummed with life—merchants peddling their last wares of the day, shadowy figures slinking through alleys, the distant clang of the harbour.

He tightened his cloak around him as he moved through the streets, his silver hair hidden beneath the black hood. To most, he was just another shadow slipping through the night, but to those who recognized him, his presence was unmistakable. His reputation preceded him—the Rogue Prince, the Lord of Flea Bottom. Names earned through years of rebellion, of pushing against the chains of authority that tried to bind him.

But there was something different about him now. His steps were no less purposeful, but the fire that had always driven him was tempered by something new. He was no longer just a man acting on his own whims; he had a daughter, a child who was both his responsibility and his legacy.

Daella.

Her name repeated itself in his mind, a steady rhythm that beat in time with his footsteps. The thought of her stirred emotions he had long buried. Fatherhood was not something he had ever sought out. He had lived his life without attachments, without ties to anyone or anything. But now, everything had shifted. She was his, and that simple fact had rearranged the very fabric of his life.

The familiar streets of Silk soon came into view, the tension in his body winding tighter as he neared his destination. He had not felt this particular brand of tension in some time. Mysaria awaited him—the White Worm. She had been many things to him over the years: lover, confidant, spy. Her network of whispers had proven invaluable more times than he cared to count, but lately, something had changed. There was a distance between them now, a suspicion that had begun to fester ever since Daella’s presence had been made known to him. Had Mysaria known? Had she kept the secret from him all these years?

Daemon’s thoughts burned with the question as he neared her compound. The White Worm had always known more than she revealed, her words laced with riddles and half-truths. But now, with Daella in his life, the stakes were higher. If Mysaria had known about Daella—had hidden it from him—there would be a reckoning.

As he approached the dimly lit entrance to her chambers, the guards at the door said nothing as he passed, their silence expected. They had seen him come and go too many times to question his presence.

Inside, the familiar scent of incense and spice greeted him, a mixture that clung to the air, heavy and intoxicating. Mysaria’s chambers were draped in silk, the flickering light of candles casting long shadows across the room. She was there, waiting for him, draped in her customary white, her pale face framed by the soft glow of the candles.

"Daemon," she purred, her Lysene accent curling seductively around his name. She reclined on a low couch, her eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. "You’ve come late tonight. What is it you seek from me?"

Daemon’s gaze was sharp, his patience worn thin. "You know why I’m here."

Her smile didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of something—uncertainty, perhaps—in her eyes. "There are many things I know, Prince. You’ll need to be more specific."

Daemon moved faster than she anticipated, his hand shooting out to grip her throat, pulling her close with a force that left no room for games. "Don’t play games with me, Mysaria," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Did you know about Daella? Did you know I had a daughter?"

The tension in the room thickened, heavy with the weight of unspoken truths. Mysaria didn’t flinch, her dark eyes holding his without fear, though his grip tightened around her throat. "I knew there was a girl," she rasped, her voice just above a whisper. "But I did not know she was yours. Not at first."

Daemon’s eyes narrowed, his fingers pressing harder against her neck. "You’re lying."

"I’m not," she whispered, her voice hoarse but steady. "I didn’t know her parentage until recently."

With a sharp shove, Daemon released her, sending her sprawling back onto the cushions. He paced the room, his mind racing with the implications of her words. How many people had known the truth before him? How had it been hidden for so long?

Mysaria rubbed her throat, her eyes flickering with irritation, though her voice remained calm. "Daella was hidden well. Elyse kept her secret, and I only pieced it together when she was dead."

"Elyse," Daemon muttered, the name cutting through the air like a blade. "What did you know about her?"

Mysaria’s expression flickered, a brief moment of hesitation crossing her face before it vanished. "Elyse… was more than she appeared," she said slowly, her words carefully measured. "‘Elyse’ wasn’t even her real name. That was just the name she adopted when she came to King’s Landing."

Daemon’s brow furrowed, confusion tightening his features. "Then who was she?"

Mysaria sighed, leaning back into the cushions with a faraway look in her eyes. "I don’t know. She was secretive about her past. Our bond wasn’t built on trust, Daemon—it was born out of survival." Her fingers smoothed the silk of her dress absently before she turned her gaze back to him. "Did she ever tell you where she was from?"

"She said she was born in Dorne," Daemon answered, his voice tight, controlled. "A bastard. That’s all she told me."

A faint, knowing smile touched Mysaria’s lips, her eyes gleaming with something unspoken. "Dorne? No, but close. She was born in Volantis. And she wasn’t just any Volantene bastard, Daemon."

Daemon’s hand instinctively moved to the hilt of Dark Sister, his pulse quickening. "What are you implying?"

Mysaria’s tone softened, her voice more thoughtful now. "Did you never wonder why her hair and eyes were so… familiar? Did her manner never strike you as peculiar? The way she always had silver coins for the City Watch?" Her eyes watched him closely, as if trying to read his every reaction. "Both you and your brother saw something in her."

Daemon’s heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing. Elyse had always been a mystery, a puzzle he never bothered to solve. She had been beautiful, and he had enjoyed their time together, but she hadn’t mattered to him beyond that. Until now. Now, she was the mother of his child—his legacy.

"What are you saying?" he demanded, his voice low, though the question was more for himself than Mysaria.

"She was more than a simple woman from Volantis," Mysaria continued, her gaze never leaving his. "I don’t know the full story, but there were whispers that she had connections to families of influence"

"Enough, Mysaria!" Daemon barked, his voice filled with frustration as he resumed pacing, his boots echoing against the stone floor. The flickering candlelight cast jagged shadows on the walls, mirroring the chaos in his mind. "I don’t have time for your riddles. Speak plainly!"

Mysaria’s eyes followed him, her expression calm but unyielding. "Elyse wasn’t a common whore, Daemon," she said, her voice steady as she leaned back, watching his every move. "There were whispers before she started dying her hair—whispers that she was of Valyrian blood."

Daemon froze, the weight of her words settling over him like a heavy cloak. How had he not seen it? The dark silver hair, the striking purple eyes—traits Daella now bore. He should have known. Perhaps, on some level, he did. Perhaps he just didn’t care. After all, one silver-haired whore was as good as another in King’s Landing.

His fists clenched at his sides, his anger surging through him like wildfire. "Why didn’t she tell me any of this?" he muttered, more to himself than to Mysaria. "Why keep Daella from me?"

Mysaria tilted her head slightly, her sharp eyes softening just a touch. "I can’t answer that for certain, but perhaps she feared what it would mean for Daella—for you. Perhaps Elyse thought it best to keep Daella hidden, to raise her as a child should be raised, away from the prying eyes of the court. She didn’t want Daella used as a pawn."

Daemon let out a bitter laugh, though the sound was devoid of humour. "And look where that got her. Dead. And Daella? A scared, lonely child living in the squalor of a brothel, so terrified that when the maid washed the dye out of her hair she nearly ripped her own hair out." His voice grew harsher, the bitterness seeping into every word. "You could have told me this sooner. You could have done something! You could have let me help her."

Mysaria’s eyes hardened at his accusation. "And what would you have done, Daemon? Elyse feared what your involvement would bring. She didn’t want Daella to live in the shadow of your name. She didn’t want her past or yours to devour the child."

Daemon spun toward her, his eyes blazing with anger. "I could’ve saved her!" His voice broke, just for a moment. "I could’ve kept Elyse alive."

Mysaria held his gaze, her own eyes reflecting the weight of the secrets she had kept. "Would it have changed anything, Daemon?" she asked quietly, her tone almost regretful. "Elyse made her choices."

Daemon’s jaw tightened, his fury simmering beneath the surface. Elyse’s secrets—the ones Mysaria had revealed and the ones that had died with her—no longer mattered. What mattered now was Daella. His daughter.

"Daella is my daughter," Daemon muttered fiercely, his voice low but resolute. "Whatever blood runs through her veins doesn’t change that."

Mysaria’s expression softened once more, her familiar tone slipping back into place. "Be careful, Daemon. The past has a way of catching up to all of us."

Daemon stepped closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. "If you’ve kept anything else from me, anything at all, you won’t live long enough to regret it."

Mysaria met his gaze, the tension between them taut as a drawn bowstring. "I’ve told you what I know," she said evenly, her tone calm yet unyielding.

For a long moment, Daemon’s eyes lingered on hers, the weight of unspoken threats thick in the air. But he said nothing more. With one final, cold glance, he turned and stormed out of her chambers, the door slamming shut behind him. As he passed through the familiar streets, Mysaria’s compound fading into the distance, Daemon felt the weight of his life shifting. He had been the Rogue Prince for so long—untethered, wild, a force unto himself. But now, he was something more.

He was a father. A protector. A force to be reckoned with, not just for himself but for Daella. His daughter. His future.

By the time Daemon reached the Red Keep, the sun had already begun its slow rise over the city. The early morning light cast long shadows across the courtyard, and servants bustled about, preparing for the day. But Daemon moved through them with a newfound sense of purpose. Nothing—not the past, not the whispers, not even the enemies lurking in the shadows—would take Daella from him.

He could picture her now, awake and preparing for her first lesson. He had arranged for the Maester to begin teaching her High Valyrian, as every true Targaryen should learn. Soon, she would know how to read, how to write, how to stitch and play music. She would learn the history of their house, the names of the great lords, and the powers they wielded. And one day, when the time came, he would teach her to ride a dragon and hold a sword, just as he did.

As Daemon walked through the gardens, heading toward his chambers, he spotted Rhaenyra in her usual spot beneath the weirwood tree. She sat with a heavy tome in her lap, her brow furrowed in concentration.

His footsteps were almost silent as he approached, though Rhaenyra, sharp as ever, glanced up from her book. Her violet eyes narrowed slightly, her gaze sharp as it landed on him.

"Back so soon, uncle?" Rhaenyra’s voice cut through the quiet of the Godswood, her tone laced with sarcasm, though beneath it was a softer edge, almost teasing.

Daemon smirked, but didn’t respond immediately. His eyes lingered on her, taking in the way the morning light caught in her hair, making it gleam like molten silver. Even in the simplicity of the Godswood, she looked regal, carrying herself with a natural majesty that both captivated and irritated him. She reminded him too much of himself.

"I had business to attend to," he finally replied, his voice neutral, though there was an unmistakable edge to it. A subtle tension simmered beneath his words, one she hadn’t heard before. "Not that it’s any concern of yours."

Rhaenyra closed the book resting on her lap, setting it aside gently as she met his gaze, her eyes sharp, searching. She could read him too well, sensing the storm beneath his calm exterior. "And what business was so pressing that it kept you out all night?" Her voice was light, but her eyes—hard, inquisitive—demanded answers.

Daemon’s lips curled into a sly grin. "You know me, Rhaenyra. I don’t answer to anyone."

"Not even my father?" she shot back, her tone sharpening like a blade. "Or is it just me you feel the need to play games with?"

The tension between them, simmering for so long, flared like fire meeting oil. Daemon’s smirk faded, his expression darkening as he stepped closer, looming over her. She remained seated under the weirwood, regal and unmoved, but his presence was undeniable.

"Viserys has always been weak," Daemon said, his voice low, heated. "And you—"

"What about me?" Rhaenyra interrupted, rising to her feet, her book forgotten as she faced him. "Do you think me weak, uncle?"

For a moment, the Godswood fell silent, the only sound the rustling of leaves in the breeze. Daemon’s eyes flashed with something unspoken—longing, regret, or perhaps both. He had always been drawn to her, admiring her fire, her defiance. Yet the distance between them had grown wider, especially since that night in the city.

"You’re far from weak," Daemon said at last, his voice softer now, though the roughness remained. "But you’re playing a dangerous game, Rhaenyra. One you’re not ready for."

Rhaenyra scoffed, her eyes blazing with defiance. "And you think you know everything, don't you? You think you can decide what I'm ready for?" She stepped closer, her chin tilted upward, but there was a flicker of something else in her eyes—hurt, frustration. "Do you think I didn’t know what I was doing that night?"

Daemon’s jaw tightened, his gaze locking with hers. "You were a girl playing at being a woman, Rhaenyra. You didn’t understand what you were stepping into."

Rhaenyra’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. "I understood more than you give me credit for," she shot back, her voice trembling slightly, though she stood firm. "You didn’t force me to do anything. I wanted to see your world. I wanted to be free."

"Free?" Daemon echoed, his voice a low growl, almost a sneer. "You’ll never be free, Rhaenyra. Not as long as you’re tied to the Iron Throne."

"And neither will you," she snapped, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "You may pretend you don't care—that you're some rogue prince who doesn’t need the throne—but I see you, Daemon. You're just as trapped as the rest of us."

Daemon’s eyes flickered with something dark, something dangerous, as he stepped closer. His voice dropped, almost a whisper. "Perhaps," he admitted, "but I know how to bend the rules when it suits me."

Rhaenyra held her ground, her breath quickening as he loomed over her. She could feel the heat of his body, the scent of smoke and leather clinging to him. For a brief, reckless moment, Rhaenyra reached out, brushing her fingers against his chest, her touch light, almost daring. Daemon’s hand shot up, catching her wrist in a firm yet controlled grip. His eyes bore into hers, a smirk tugging at his lips once again.

"You shouldn’t provoke me, niece," he whispered, his voice rough, filled with a challenge that sent a shiver down her spine.

Rhaenyra’s lips parted, her defiance wavering as the fire between them burned hotter. "And what will you do if I do?" she asked, her voice barely a breath.

Daemon’s grip on her wrist tightened, just enough to remind her of his strength. He leaned in ever so slightly, their faces mere inches apart. His breath was warm against her skin, his presence overwhelming, and the tension between them reached its breaking point.

"Father?"

The voice was small, hesitant, cutting through the charged moment like a splash of cold water. Daemon turned sharply, releasing Rhaenyra’s wrist as he looked toward the source.

Daella stood a few feet away, her violet eyes wide with confusion as they flicked between Daemon and Rhaenyra. Her dark silver hair cascaded around her shoulders, and she seemed so small, so innocent, standing there in the soft light of the Godswood.

↞ Previous Chapter | Next Chapter ↠

[blingblong55]

Walking in the wind-141

A/N: sorry but I'm a directioner at heart babes so the title was a must

GN!Reader, angst, some fluff, platonic!relationship, death of character

20 years later, 141 was officially retired, all married, happy families, peaceful sunny days and most importantly, no war, no guns, just peace.

A week ago you said to me "Do you believe I'll never be too far?" If you're lost, just look for me You'll find me in the region of the summer stars

Every month, no matter where either one of the people in the team was in the world, they would fly to a small home in town in the southern part of the U.S. And arrive between 6-7 in the afternoon, to talk and catch up because it's better to see the person than to text them. The stories shared between all, the wives/husbands, kids and how old they were getting. Unlike the rest, you moved to America, and wanted that movie-like life, in some small town, driving a truck, passing through quiet streets where all anyone worried about was the leaves that would fall in autumn. You and your partner opened a small pub.

The name for it was 'R/N's Place" This was after you finally get out of the toxic part of your life, the family and the ache it gave you when you were there. Not a normal name for a pub but the locals loved it. Your favourite part was that you received lots of veterans, they all told you about their time serving and you, like the proud friend you are displayed a picture of you and the team in your first and last mission together.

It was almost around the time the men arrived, Price being the first, followed by Gaz who flew in with him. Soap arrived late, his children wanted to talk to their father before bedtime and Ghost arrived last, getting a call from his partner to which he always answered, he always made it clear his partner was a priority now that he is retired. You waited by the table with the rest for Ghost, your wife/husband serving the clients. "And there he is, Simon." Price smiled a little, proud to see his family again. "Alright, who's first?" Gaz asked and drank from his pint.

"I'll go first," Ghost said, which was a definite first. "Go on, son." Price passed all a cigar. A tradition he started once his grown soldiers/children were all retired. "Me and my partner are expecting a son." A secret he kept until it was assured the baby would make it this time. "Congrats mate!" Soap hugged him, feeling proud of a man he considered his oldest brother. "That's very much well deserved, man." Gaz smiled and you stared in awe. Price looked down with a soft chuckle, wanting to dismiss the tears that formed in his eyes. His wallet would be getting a new picture of the newest addition to the family soon. --- "R/N, I won't make it, go!" Ghost said to which you shook your head. "No, this is the one command I will not take! You will get old and fat but you will NOT die on me lieutenant, not today!" you yelled over the loud noises. ---

He looks at you and you hug him, whispering in his ear, "See, I told you it would be possible this time, Simon. I'm so happy and proud of you." Words that definitely made the tears well up in his eyes.

The fact that we can sit right here and say goodbye Means we've already won A necessity for apologies between you and me Baby, there is none

"Now you are all making me feel old." Price jokes and finally looks up. The four people he fought with through wars, all living the lives he knew were all much earned. Through the wounds, blood and sacrifice, somehow, five mad people are still alive. And the entire night, Soap told stories of his farm, and Gaz gave advice on how to fix some stuff, a trip he would soon have to make to Scotland. Gaz on the new tricks his little ones make, how he knows karma got to him and his back aches, so much for the jokes he told about Price. Ghost with his wood-making business, one he started in the backyard and now in Manchester's best small business. Price on how his kids are now in uni and the youngest one is in secondary.

And then you, with their favourite pub in the entire world, how you adopted a child and your eldest in primary already. Your wife/husband watching you smile from afar. You always were excited for these meetings, it was the one time someone other than the local veterans understood the stories you told.

We had some good times, didn't we? We had some good tricks up our sleeve Goodbyes are bittersweet But it's not the end I'll see your face again

And, as each month passed by, it turned into 10 years later. You and the other men in the team gathered not in America but back home in England. All in black dressing, lifting the coffin of the father you all shared. Price had peacefully passed on a calm night. As his wife puts it, he was finally ready to go, his mission was over and the children he raised were all old enough to understand and his little soldiers as he called you were well off in life, the one he made sure you all had. In years you had never seen so many of the toughest and now retired soldiers you worked with cry so much. You did too. The ceremony was as expected, memorable, beautiful and for the last time in John Price's life, peaceful.

Yesterday I went out to celebrate the birthday of a friend But as we raised our glasses up to make a toast I realised you were missing

You all flew back to the first ever pub he took you to. Raise your glasses and shed more tears. You see, this was a promise you all made. An oath between Task Force 141. When one passes, those that remain must go to the first pub we talked to as not a team but a family, and just then we can mourn but also celebrate we once lived.

And I know we'll be alright, child Just close your eyes and see And I'll be by your side Any time you're needing me Oh, yeah

Ghost chuckles, "And he told me, 'you reckon I can make it?' and that old man did it, the deadliest move ever and he fuckin' made it." he takes a sip of his drink. Gaz smiles, fond memories shared between him and Price, to be remembered until his final breath. "He used to do this trick with the smoke from his cigar just for my little girl to giggle, and man does she still ask for that trick," Soap shared. All four of you, smoking a cigar, just like he would've. "Can you believe the old man never complained too much about his back?" you ask to which all others nod. Now in your late 40's to early 50's, you never understood how he never once complained of the aching bones or back, proving he was and will always be the strongest and toughest man to ever grace your lives.

And you will find me Yeah, you will find me In places that we've never been For reasons we don't understand

tags: @warenai @liyanahelena

[skinnywalker]

Professional protector (Aaron Hotchner x nanny! male reader)

It's become a slight problem. Most nights it Hotch was late. Some he wasn't home at all and babysitters were only so reliable.

"You're really using Garica to get a other new babysitter?"

"I'm not trust random teens with my boy."

Emily rolls her eyes and pulls away the file of potential names.

"Can't you just hire a full time?"

Hotch groans.

"Same problem."

"Well it's either a once time issue or a till-jack-is-grown issue so make up you mind."

She's right of course, he needs to just bite the bullet.

After nearly an hour of barely scrapable options Hotch's attention was caught by a face.

Young, clean cut, handsome and with a bakround in child care. He gives Hocth a strange stomach twist, the kind he felt in high-school when he meet Harley. That same at once connection.

"Is he free?"

"Looks like it. Says on his employee web page he is open for full weekdays."

"Send that to me would you?"

Garcia can't help the small grin that crosses her lips.

"At once my lord."

From his nightstand the buzz of that familiar notification sounds him awake.

Clients.

He checks the profile his boss Diane always sends but this one is different than normal. He is used to business men who don't have time for their children but the man is an FBI agent and high in ranks too.

Doesn't look half bad either.

"How much is the pay?

"60 an hour."

He stops dead in his track.

"60? For one child and house sitting?"

"Ahuh. He asked me if that was too low."

"Too low?!"

She smiled at him with a gleam I her eyes.

"He really wanted you specifically."

Hotch keep glancing at his watch. He wasn't late but Hotch was nervous he might be.

"Excuse are you Mr. Hotchner?"

He's pretty in person Hotch thinks. More real. More warm. He's bright-looking but not cocky. Fair featured but no vain. He could reach out his hand and Hotch would near before him to kiss it without even thinking.

"Yes, you must be the nanny."

"Ahuh. Would you like to go over the details of what you need me to do while your away?"

Hotch smiles. He has no clue why but it feels natural.

"Of course."

Hotch leads him through the house explain everything he needs from the house care side of things.

"-and if you can't try to fold the blankets to fit in properly I'd be really thankful."

"Of course. What about your son?"

"Jack spends most of the day at school. He still in k-8 and does sometimes need homework help. He can make his own food but often prefers it made. He has 2-3 hours of screen time weekdays and 4 on weekends. He'll want to call me when I'm out of town which you can also do if you need anything."

He nods. Simple kid.

"He always wants to come along on grocery trips and basically anytime you leave the house."

Hotch hands him the house keys.

"And most importantly he'll ask for want he wants and his bedtime is 8:30."

"Got it. I call you at night if I have questions."

"Daddy?"

The two turn to see a sleepy toddler standing in door way. His spider-man pj's frumbled from napping.

"Hey Jack buddy, this is your new babysitter. He'll be here all day till I come back in the evenings so you don't have to be alone at home."

Jack looks up. Hotch feels the two smiling at eachother. His heart is aching know Jack is already bonding with the nanny. This have been a good idea.

"I have to go home today Jack but I'll see you again tomorrow ok?"

"Ok! Can we play with my Lego pirates."

"We can play whatever you want to Jack."

Hotch loves that smile on Jack. The innocent love. His boy is safe.

"Hotch? We have an emergency."

"What is it J.J.?"

"Ten victims all male in their 20s and the unsub is moving."

"I'll be there in ten mintues."

Hotch's body knows the routine of his morning work runs so well it work on autopilot.

Lastly he kisses Jack's sleeping head and text his new nanny 8 words.

"Flying for work for at least a week."

He'll get what I mean Hotch thinks before he stops himself. Why is he so sure? He doesn't even know the guy and he is trusting him like an old friend already. That's not good but Hotch can't seem to stop himself. He doesn't trust easily but something about him is so safe. So at home at ease. Hotch hates how his walls are just gone the moment he met a pretty man who takes care of his son. Hotch hopes he'll stay.

"He's targeting men who seem successful in love. Men with kids and partners and well paying jobs. Young man living how he wants to live. And he does it through robbery and hold ups. He is choosing targets on the fly."

"Where do we thinking he is making his way to?"

"Maybe his home or his get away car. I don't think he can keep this up for too long and I know he thinks that too."

At the hotel Hotch picks up his nightly call.

"How's your nanny been buddy?"

"I love daddy! He is super smart and he knew all about the history for my test on Tuesday and he makes such good pasta and he read me all the books I have trouble with!"

Hotch feel his stomach twist again. Just like a dad.

"That's great buddy. I'm glad you like him so much."

"He is gonna be my new best friend."

"I'm sure he will sweets now you need to good to bed."

"Ok, Goodnight daddy."

"Sleepwell Buddy. I love you."

"Love you too!"

He's safe. He's for the first time Hotch feels confident in thinking that Jack is really safe and happy. He sleeps better that night then he has in a while.

"Unsub is now in Virginia and he's getting risky. Going straight for our home now. He might even be there at this moment."

"So we came out here just to go home?"

"No, we came out here to know for certain he is home. Let's go."

Jack had asked to come along to the Cafe. He had followed his nanny to the counter and was rewarded with a small pink lemonade.

"Have you ever tried limeade or just lemon?"

He shakes his head no.

"Never liked lime. Too sour."

He chuckles.

"I like a lot of sour things especially ones that have some sweet in them."

"Everyone get on the floor! This is a hold up and if everyone behaves no one will get hurt."

Jack looks up confused and then frighten.

"Nanny?"

"Comere Jack. Everything will be alright."

"We've tracked him to a Cafe he's holding up. Swat is on their way but we don't time on our side."

"How fast can we get there?"

"20."

"20 is not fast enough."

"You, with the blonde kid. Move up here."

His arms wrap around Jack and gently lead them both to the front.

"Give him to me."

"No."

His breathing hitches.

"I'm not letting you near him. You'll have to take me first."

The click of the handriffle echoed in his ears before he felt the the world go black.

When the room came back into focus he realized he was in the ER. His chest was burning. He could feel the dizziness bringing him in and out of blurry awareness.

"Hey, just rest, you're really injured."

"Jack.. what about Jack?"

"He's safe with his father."

A knock at the door interrupts them.

"Hello Doctor is it OK for me to see him?"

"Mr. Hotch? Is that you?"

Hotch leans over the hospital bed brush some hair.

"How are you feeling?"

"I've been worse."

"Worse than shot?"

He giggled even though it hurt.

"Yeah. I'm better knowing Jack is safe."

"He was really scared for you, so was I. You don't know how much it means to me that you put yourself in such danger for my boy."

"I'd do it again."

Hotch felt strange. On one hand he was deeply relieved that he was safe but such a close call had his nerves in a twist. It was like a weight had been added to his psyche. Hotch couldn't let anything happen to him. He felt protective.

"How is he?"

"Exhausted but ok."

"Hotch I know he is just your nanny but you seem pretty worried."

"I can't help but be. He nearly died keeping Jack safe. I don't know what could've happened if I hired someone less bare. This whole time I've felt so.... connected with him. Like he is someone who I can trust."

"Does Agent Aaron Hotchner have a slight crush."

Oh no.

[edensdahlia]

༊*·˚ Next Door Slut

CHARACTERS: Simon Riley x F! Reader (M! Reader here)

RATING: NSFW

CONTENTS: Civilian reader, male masturbation, slightly possessive + jealous Simon, he’s your neighbor, mentions of smoking, reader is implied to have slept around, may be tense issues in the writing, protected sex (stay safe y’all), vag. fingering, oral (f! receiving), multiple orgasms, biting, brief mention of blood, praise, nicknames used: love, sweetheart

ೃ⁀➷ WORD COUNT: 2.4K

Simon was trying to sleep- truly he was. Perhaps one of the least odd facts about the man concerned his sleeping schedule, particularly his fondness of early bedtimes. Maybe it was the remnants of being forced awake at ungodly hours of the morning or something simpler like the comfort found in routine. Regardless, it didn’t change the fact that it was you who was disturbing his much-needed rest- you and whatever guy you’d managed to pick up this time.

The apartment walls were made of shitty drywall and thin enough that they left no room for the imagination as your headboard banged noisily against the wall parallel to his bed. There was no rhythm to it, just sloppy, stuttering, sounds that matched the cadence of your moans. They were cheap, spilling from you easily with a pitch that was too high. Too fake. He could recognize the underlying falsity in them but that didn’t stop his shorts from tenting. His body acted before his mind could stamp down the rush of heat. It was annoying how easily you could rile him up without even trying; without knowing.

Simon ran a hand reluctantly over his arousal, hissing quietly. You let out another moan, this one higher than the last, a choking gasp of a name. From the sound of it, your voice was being muffled by pillows- and Simon could almost imagine it, the arch of your back, your mouth hanging open- and god it wasn’t fair. The way these men got to have you. You with your bright eyes and teasing smile.

This hadn’t been the first time you’d brought someone back to your apartment. Far from it in fact. He’d grown almost used to the sound of you lost in your pleasures, except he knew you didn’t take enjoyment in it. The moans you uttered now were only for the sake of the man above you, nothing like the ones you made when you were by yourself. When you thought no one could hear. But he did. Oh, Simon heard it every time, and without fail it landed him where he was now.

Hand fisting his cock, slick sounds joining with your moans. For a moment Simon let himself imagine it was him drawing those noises from you. Imagined it was him above you fucking you into the mattress, with nothing on your lips except his name. There was an added feeling lurking in his stomach, one that wasn’t spurred on by his overwhelming need to get off. One which he didn’t want to admit the existence of. 

After all, you were just his neighbor who he occasionally spoke to. It was already embarrassing enough that he was sitting here stroking one out to you, he didn’t need his mind plagued by jealous thoughts of how much better he could treat you.

Simon shifted, his body burning as he dug his heels into his mattress and pressed his nail into his slit. It drew a strange guttural sound from him, one you mimicked in the form of a shaking whine as you came. Or pretended to at least. It wasn't fair. His hips canted upwards, and he came with a muffled groan, his spend coating his hand and the lower half of his shirt.

On the other side of the wall, it fell silent. Exhausted Simon used his shirt to clean his hand and then he pulled the material up and over his head, tossing it to the other side of his room. His head hit his pillows and it didn’t take long before his breathing went ragged and then slowed. The last thought on his mind was of your face twisted in pleasure below him.

♡ 。

There was a light breeze blowing through the compound and on any other day, it would have felt nice except it was hindering Simon’s ability to get his lighter to fucking work. Frustrated he thumbed the serrated metal wheel, hand cupped cautiously around the non-existent flame until finally, it sputtered to life catching the butt end of his cigarette. 

Satisfied Simon drew in a long breath relaxing as he felt the first hit settle the restless jitter that seemed to reside deep in his bones. Exhaling slowly he began sorting through his mail, smoke curling lazily above his head. 

“Late morning?”

The sound of your voice so close behind him had Simon tensing memories of last night flooding back to him full force. It hit like a punch to the stomach and had he been a lesser man he would’ve grimaced in shame from the knowledge of what he’d done. Instead, he flicked his gaze to you watching from the corner of his eye as you jammed your key into the mailbox next to his and turned it. 

“You were loud last night. Could hear you through the damn walls.” Simon grunted returning his wandering gaze back to his mail but not before he saw the mortified look that passed your face. It satisfied something within him that he couldn’t put a name on. Your embarrassment at being caught tasted sweet in his mouth, like a reward. 

Your mailbox slammed closed hurriedly the metallic bang! filling the silence momentarily. “I’m sorry- I didn’t realize.”  You choked out. He watched as you retreated quickly your footsteps hurried. 

Simon wasn’t sure what possessed him- maybe it was the unsatisfied feeling his orgasm had left him with or the building sense of jealousy he was finally admitting may be there- but he turned dropping the cig and stomping it out. His voice called after you in a low growl. “If it was me you wouldn’t have to pretend love.” 

He watched as you stalled, shoulders hunching upwards towards your ears and then lowering just slightly. For a moment Simon thought you would run away but you turned gaze meeting his. “Who says I was pretending?” Your tone bordered on defensive, but there was a challenge hidden behind them. Lurking beneath the surface. 

Simon’s mouth twitched the barest hint of a smile forming. That was the woman he knew. Your embarrassment was delightful but the fire was what he longed for. He sought after the bite in your words if only so he could imagine smothering them with his mouth. Soothing away the edge in your voice with his skin pressed to every inch of you. 

Every thought in his mind was consumed with the idea of ruining you and they only got worse as he approached, his face a portrait of lust. He stopped when you two stood side by side, arms just barely brushing, the warmth enough to send shivers up your spine. 

“Prove it.” 

The words were barely there, a low whisper that could have easily been mistaken for the wind. You shivered again but this time for a different reason as Simon continued past you, not even sparing a glance back. His words lingered in the empty space he had left behind; an open invitation to learn more about the man who until presently had been nothing more than a quick conversation. 

♡ 。

Getting to his bedroom was a lot harder than Simon had initially expected. From the moment the door had closed behind you your mouth had been on him as if you were starving and he was the only thing that could satiate your hunger. 

Simon would make sure that he was. 

He couldn’t stand the idea of someone else having you like this and hated the thought that some had. It made his hands itch, burning with the need to have them around something- the trigger of a gun, or the handle of a knife- anything to bring him that familiar sense of control. Neither were near so he dug them into the fat of your hips instead. 

You stumbled through the hallway together teeth knocking as you kissed, fingers bruising skin from where you pulled at each other as if you both were trying to tear the other apart at the seams. Halfway through the door to his bedroom, your clothes were discarded, pulled off in a blur of wandering hands and impatient touches. 

Simon pushed you back onto his bed so that your legs dangled just over the edge. It seemed almost perverse to think about how only mere hours ago he had laid there getting himself off to the sound of your moans. But God, he’d be lying if it didn’t get him harder still, especially when you were looking at him in a way that could only be described as sinful- mouth parted and swollen, eyes half-lidded as if he’d done more than kiss you stupid. 

Everything you did was maddening. Terribly maddening. Simon rested his hands on either side of your face, his body bent over yours. Slowly he lowered himself down to his elbows. His tongue traced over the corner of your mouth, cleaning away a smear of blood that had found its way there, most likely his own doing. “I am going to ruin you.” 

His mouth descended lower burning hot against your already flushed skin and you writhed as sunk his teeth into the soft flesh of your chest, his canines piercing the skin and coming away red. He licked them clean and you watched the slow bob of his Adam's apple. Your voice shook just slightly, “Is that a promise?” He nipped at your hip, hand sliding beneath the band of your underwear and slipping them down past your thighs. 

Simon smiled against your skin. “I can promise that once I’m done with you no man will be able to satisfy you like me.” His voice was a low husk against the inner skin of your thigh, his eyes heady as they took in the sight of your dripping hole. 

Slowly, experimentally he pushed a finger into you and then a second picking up in pace as he fucked them into you. You squirmed as his mouth found your clit but he held you steady, his other hand pressed down on you with an almost unnatural amount of strength. 

“Simon-“ You huffed the stimulation growing to be too much. It’d been far too long since you’d had this kind of focus on you and it made your legs shake. Your orgasm was fast approaching and it seemed that it was his goal to get you there. He twisted his fingers in just the right way that had your head slamming back against the mattress a broken moan being ripped from your chest.

Despite your weak protests, Simon pulled away just slightly smiling victoriously, his mouth covered in your slick. Not that he seemed to mind. 

“Now that was real sweetheart- and I didn’t even have to use my cock.” He swiped his thumb across your clit watching the way you twitched around his fingers, head falling to the side as you let out a small whimper in response. “God you’re breathtaking. How could those tossers not want this?”

“Most of them were drunk-“ You hedged, unsure why you were attempting to defend them. Simon wasn’t having that though. His mouth latched back onto you and any thoughts of those other men died at the way his fingers began to work you open again. 

It didn’t take long after that to reach your high. You came with a wrecked gasp of his name, grip tightening around the blonde curls on top of his head holding him in place. Simon gave you a minute to ride it out fingers fucking into you still albeit at a slower pace. Eventually, you relaxed your legs falling around his shoulders loosely, eyes fluttering closed.

The sound of tinfoil being ripped open brought your eyes back to his and then down to where he was rolling the condom onto himself. You held your breath at the sight. He was big. Bigger than you had expected. 

Simon’s gaze was locked on yours as he resumed his earlier position bent over you. “You okay there sweetheart?” He asked teasingly, using one hand to push your leg up towards your chest and the other to guide himself slowly towards your entrance. You nodded, exhaling slowly.

“There you go love, breathe. I’ll go easy on you.” Simon murmured pushing forward his cock stretching you painfully as he entered inch by inch. He ran his nails up your side soothingly, occasionally stopping to trace over the already bruising bite marks he had left against your skin. His gaze seemed almost affectionate as he admired them. 

Once he was sure you had adjusted to the size of him Simon pulled back dragging himself out of you slowly. It took everything in you not to sob as he slammed back into you, picking up a brutal pace that contradicted his earlier words and had you digging your nails into his bicep.

“You’re doing so well sweetheart-” Simon grunted pushing your leg down further against your chest, stretching it in a way that made it ache. His gaze tracked each expression on your face, each twitch of your walls around him. Enthralled with the way your moans spilled from your chest wrecked and shuddering- as if you couldn’t hold them in but were desperately trying to. If you would have opened your eyes you would have seen the almost affectionate look that crossed his face. 

As it was you didn’t notice- far too consumed with the feeling of him hitting all the right spots in you and your all too quickly approaching orgasm. And then he pushed your other leg up, joining your first one, and the new angle forced you over the edge. Almost blindingly quick your second orgasm took you, and you sobbed as Simon pressed his face into your neck and continued his rough pace. 

He could feel your pretty cunt squeezing him, sucking him in. It was driving him crazy. He groaned lowly as you tugged at his hair forcing his gaze to your fucked out expression. “Cum f’me Simon.” You pleaded and who was he to deny you when you asked so sweetly? His hips stuttered against yours, his moan smothered against your mouth as he finally let himself tip over into bliss. 

A minute passed and Simon removed himself from you slowly, leaving to toss the condom and returning with a wash rag. He wiped your flushed body down as best he could making sure to be gentle around the bitemarks littering your skin.

“Well?” You murmured as he swiped the rag across your stomach. 

“Well, what?”

“Do you think I was pretending with those guys?” 

He hummed resuming his cleaning. 

“I’m not sure. I think we’ll have to do this again.” 

A/N: I just know my notes app is absolutely sick of me- the amount of drafts it has for this fic alone... I have no clue why but I just can’t stay in one document while writing :,) Anyway, if you got to this point thank you for taking the time to read this! Have a wonderful day! (≧∇≦)/ ♡

[silvervinewine]

Hiho! Hello! I need some Dottore fluff pls, I had too much dead doves for dinner. Just Dottore listening to reader going on and on about spiders and insects (or reptiles, could be botg depends on you) bc she collects them for a living and then his reaction when one of his minions tries to interrupt you cuz smth urgent. Thx a lot!!

HEART TO HEART (W/ DOTTORE, CW: SPIDERS, MINOR SUMERU ARCHON QUEST SPOILER [1])

"and you know strangely, giant dendro tree spiders," you often liked to ramble around bedtime, i mean when else could you really infodump, "like to live near the roots of petrified trees, they set their webs near the floor. since you know it's far easier to search for food. despite this, they lay their eggs in the branches of the large trees."

"furthermore, these smart critters specifically search for the most secure branch, safe from harsh weather or predators..." you looked at DOTTORE, who was looking at you with crinkled eyes, getting a strand of his hair out of his face as his face flushed. "not the tallest branch, the safest thickest branch."

"so to try to raise a giant dendro tree spider from the egg point, you have to first, not get bitten by a violent spider, and then climb all the way to find the most secure spot, usually deep within the tree and then you have to-"

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK! the door flew open, revealing a rather smug omega.

"lord PRIME, i have come back from sumeru with the report on the progress of our knowldge capsules operation, which is going extraordinarily great!"

IL DOTTORE or prime, groaned as he looked at omega. "i do not care for the operation as of now, can't you see we're busy?"

you looked up from your bed, extending your hand, "hi!"

→←

cuddling with two grown men in a small bed was not the most comfortable, though they wouldn't budge as much as you tried.

"so as i was saying, to get a dendro tree spider to hatch you need a specific conditions to follow, lighting, temperature and humidity have to be set to a strict standard or else the spider eggs will end up-"

"stop hoarding prime!", omega exclaimed as he wrapped his arm against your waist, his body leaning on your side.

prime laid against your chest, your hand deeply nestled through his unruly locks, scratching his scalp. he mumbled face squished in your collarbone, "i'm not hoarding!"

"can i continue?", you rolled your eyes, kissing prime's head. ignoring omega's glare you continued speaking, your voice becoming softer and softer, until there was nothing left but quiet snores.

(all of this information is not canon btw! i know nothing of "giant dendro tree spiders")

[petermlx]

@silver-goggles-guild

Peter as a dad

Going off of canon (movie wise) and off of personal headcanons that I’ve seen, I’d say that Peter would be a really good dad.

He grew up with a younger sister (as seen in DoFP. Whether that’s Wanda or Lorna or a completely different kid is up to you) and in the same movie, we’ve seen that his mother drinks alcohol. So there’s a high chance pointing to the fact that Peter’s mother might’ve been too drunk to raise either of her kids.

So Peter, with both of his parents absent in his childhood, would swear to himself that he’d raise his sister better than their mother ever could.

And he’d get good at it. He’d probably even steal a book on parenting just to make sure he was going about things the right way, one of the few things he’s ever done by the book.

And as he and his sister gets older (she looks to be around 7 or 8 in DoFP and Peter’s probably in his late teens at the same time) he’d do other things too. Like go with her for parent-teacher conferences and back to school nights. Peter would go trick-or-treating with her on Halloween and would play dress up with her.

So I’d imagine that even after she’s all grown up and in high school or college and Peter’s moved into the mansion after Apocalypse, all of those parental instincts would just stick. He’s spent practically his entire life being his sister’s ‘dad’, he wouldn’t just forget all of that.

In the beginning, Peter definitely wouldn’t realize that he was even doing it. Like, he’d read bedtime stories to the students that wouldn’t be able to sleep or he’d make snacks for some of the students. He’d help the students with their classwork (even if he didn’t understand half of it) and would watch them whenever they went outside to play or practice with their mutations.

And then Peter would realize what he was doing and would double-down on it. His parental instincts weren’t something he was ashamed of and he sure as hell wasn’t ashamed to admit that he cares for the little rascals of Charles’s school.

And then those instincts would bleed into his friendships with the older mutants. At first it would be simple stuff like making snacks for them when they said they were hungry in between meals. Or he would help patch them up after training or missions even though they had Hank to do that. And then it would evolve into little comments like-

“Hank, you gotta sleep more, man. How are you expected to be our great engineer if you can’t even see straight?”

Or,

“C’mon, Charles, we were all teenagers once. Let them go to the mall. If it makes you feel better, I’ll be sure to watch over them.”

And then it would evolve into different, more serious comments such as-

“Scott! Don’t do that, you’re gonna bust your head open!

And,

“Kurt, buddy, I know your tail is strong but you can’t just go around picking everything slightly heavy up with it. You might drop it and I don’t think our good doctor here is well-versed in the ways of literal tail bones.”

Or,

“Jubs, I understand that you want a ‘hot summer bod’, your words not mine, but you really have to eat more than that. It isn’t healthy to cut back on food just because you want to get skinny. Here, have some more food and I’ll teach you later how to get a hot bod like mine.”

At first, the X-Men definitely don’t realize what’s going on, they just think that Peter is being protective over them because of Apocalypse (though that wouldn’t explain the things he’s said to the older mutants who are more than capable of taking care of themselves). But then, for whatever reason, Peter’s little sister comes to the mansion.

And all of a sudden the others are watching from an entirely different perspective on how Peter acts with others. He’s questioning his sister about her school while he’s making her a snack and how she’s doing and if anybody is giving her any trouble. And she kinda laughs while rolling her eyes and answers with a “No, Dad. Nobody’s giving me trouble,” and it’s not exactly said sarcastically as most little siblings would be with their older siblings.

And the others would analyze Peter’s behaviour with them and then would have that collective thought of ‘Oh. Peter acts like a dad to us’.

After that realization, the others would start to be more welcoming towards Peter’s words of advice and caution, even though it felt like he was babying them from time to time.

I’m just saying that with his family, biological or not, Peter would act like a total dad.

(I feel very strongly about this, if you couldn’t tell.)

[shmowder]

seeing a lot of asks regarding poly daniil and artemy and I'd love to join in too. i think it would be real funny if whenever daniil or artemy fought with eachother they used the reader as some type of relief, can be nsfw or sfw.

the idea of them getting all angry over the other only for both of them to use the same person as some type of break is a bit funny.

Could I interest you in some modern au?

Fluff

They've been at it for hours.

You'd think three grown adults could easily come to a compromise when it comes to a trival matter as picking a movie to watch, especially two whole doctors who save lives on the daily.

Apparently not.

You groan against the pillow you've been hugging, burying your face into it as Daniil and Artemy's voices somehow become even louder as they attempt to talk over each other.

This is even worst than the time Daniil thought it was a brilliant idea to take Artemy tie shopping, or that other time Artemy left the front door open and his pet—the family's pet bull managed to get inside and left a very clear–and smelly–personal statement on Daniil's leather shoes.

Since when did either of them even care about movies or watching TV at all?

Maybe it was the "baby shark" music video Murky kept on loop all morning, which fried their brain, and now control over the TV remote is one short hill they'll certainly die on.

This is it, you're too done with those two gaint babies. With a quick motion you snatch the remote from the No Man's land coffee table and click on the first option you see. Announcing that this is the movie now, they've both lost their chances and since you have the remote it means you get to decide.

...What you didn't realise was that all they heard is "whoever gets the remote will decide" You know, the current remote in your hands.

All sense of decorum is thrown out the window as the Bachelor of Medicine himself gives you a polite smile before bouncing on you like a snake chasing after a mouse.

Your back slamming against what felt like a gaint bear, Artemy's hand akin to a claw as it easily envelopes your own with the remote and keeps it out of reach from Daniil's grubby fingers.

The two are in a standoff with you in the middle.

In an instant, you're pulled closer from opposite directions and tugged around, their hands gunning for the prize held tightly in your own, only for the other man to immediately pull you out of reach.

Daniil's hair is a complete mess. The usual combed style black strands each developed a mind of their own as they faced completely different directions. The catty man is this close to resort to biting Artemy's hand away, which keeps a steel grip against yours on the remote.

Meanwhile, this hulking surgeon is struggling not to slide off of the couch from Daniil suddenly cornering you against him at the far end. He considers pulling the remote–alongside your hand–under his sweater to protect them from Daniil's unusually sharp fangs.

-

Smut

Of course the two most petty men to have walked the face of the earth couldn't have left their disagreement at the door when bedtime rolled around.

Now it's Artemy's teeth grazing your neck, so much for giving Daniil shit for biting his hand when he himself isn't sparing a single patch on your skin without marking it in some way or form.

You try to adjust your legs, but Daniil keeps them secured against his shoulder, face buried directly between your thighs. Kissing alongside your sensitive spots, looking incredibly smug for a man on his knees as he swallows down the remains of your cum.

They're unbelievably stubborn as they use your body to settle their argument. You don't think they even remember which movie they originally wanted to pick. At this point, it's too personal for them to back down.

God Daniil's mouth is relentless, to think Artemy's cock was stretching you open not a minute ago and now it's replaced by the Bachelor's tongue.

You feel Artemy's semi-hard against your back, grinding against you as. His arms wrapped around you so tenderly as if he wasn't just using your as his personal fleshlight, setting a merciless pace as he bounced you up and down his cock.

The taste of Daniil's cum is still thick on your tongue, as if he deliberately made sure to be the last to finish inside your throat so you may spend the rest of the night thinking of him. So you can taste nothing but his cum even as Artemy's cock stretches you open.

One minute, they're intense and passionate as they fill your holes and flood your brain with pleasure so much it's borderline painful.

The next they're soft and gentle as they lick your bruised skin and press kisses against your temple, massaging your shaking thighs, Daniil's honeyed words of reassurance washing over you, putting you into an almost trance of wanting to obey and please him.

Artemy's embrace making you feel so safe, being held by him, protected by your husband who will never let anything bad touch you in this world.

Daniil's sinfully angelic moans as you ride him, how pretty he looks with his hair sprawled on the pillow, framing his face as he holds intense desire in his eyes.

Artemy's hands guiding your hips, making you grind down until Daniil's cock is pressing against that rough patch of skin inside you, how easy it is for him to move your body around and lift your hips up and down.