#i missed it so much - now that i’ve paraded To Be or Not To Be around everywhere - Trouble in Paradise is next

[frogstappen]

𝐳𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐯𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐭, 𝐧𝐥

best friend!max verstappen x reader / 3k

you watch max's home race from the red bull garage.

⚠️: description of major crash, some mentions of injury. sickly sweet friendship with a hint of something more. jealous!max, soft!max, cheeky!max.

“Headset?”

“Yep.”

“I got some snacks for you. Where are the –?”

The bag rustles as you lift it. “Pretzels. Got them.”

“And you know where the bathroom is? Out that door, down the corridor –”

“Max,” you push his arm down, “You know who we sound like right now?”

His eyebrows lift. “Who?”

You giggle. “You and GP. Radio, check. Headset, check. Bathroom, check.”

Max sighs, propping a hand on his hip. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just – listen to me, please, okay?”

“I’m going to be fine,” you assure him. “I’ve watched you from the garage a thousand times before.”

“Yeah, well, you haven’t been down here in a while. I’m just making sure.”

The track is already deafening. The roar of tens of thousands of bloodthirsty Formula One fans isn’t quite as earthshaking as that of twenty racecars – but Jesus, there’s not much in it.

The attendance in Zandvoort this weekend has reached well over three hundred thousand. Earlier, you stood out front to watch the drivers’ parade with some of the team.

Max lifted his head as the bus turned the last corner and trundled down the main straight. The crowd thundered all around. He caught your eye and, with a smirk, lifted a waggling hand – and you felt your bones vibrating with the cheering.

An orange sea parted by a strip of black asphalt; they twirl flags between thick clouds of tangerine smoke. They paint their faces and wave their banners, topple their drinks with the thrill that just a half-second glimpse at their Dutch Lion ignites.

Formula One fans go hard. Max Verstappen fans go harder.

An assistant taps Max’s shoulder. She flicks up the mic on her headset as he turns. “Three minutes to anthem.”

He nods, and she totters off.

“Promise me,” he takes hold of your elbows, “that you’ll stay right here. I’ll find you after, okay? One of the guys will bring you to the podium.”

“Confident,” you snort, though his expression tightens.

Your phone buzzes on the desk. You flip it over and the screen lights a name adorned with a heart emoji. Beneath, a picture of the classic overhead of the grid, stretched across a flatscreen TV.

Bet your view is better than mine! Miss you. X

Max grumbles, grabbing his balaclava. “I should go.”

“Hey, wait.” You tug on the sleeve of his suit, dangling from his waist.

He sways back into your side, the weight of him familiar and gentle. “Mhm?”

“Have a good one, okay? Be safe.”

“Safe?” He smirks, toying with the cord of your headset. “That’s no fun.”

“I’m serious, Max. Don’t be a dick.”

Okay, he mouths, patting your head. “Speaking of dicks,” he taps your phone, “Better reply.”

His head tilts back in laughter when you shove him off, and he swaggers out of the garage. An assistant hoists a parasol in the air and scurries down the pit lane at his side.

He’s so calm, you think, that he may as well be out for a Sunday drive. It comes naturally enough to him.

He’s on pole today. The car has been good, Max’s form even better. The sky is clear (save for the fans’ fluorescent flares), and there’s no chance of rain – though, sometimes, you find yourself praying for it.

He’s Dutch, okay? The rain is always on his side.

It’s been a decent weekend, for once. No hiccups, no setbacks. He’s soared his way around the track, producing lap after perfect lap. The way he always does, when he knows you’re somewhere nearby.

His lucky charm, since his first go around a karting track. So Max says, anyway.

He’ll say it with humor; that wit of his that you’ve learned like a second language. Still – sometimes, after his hardest races, his toughest battles, he wraps his arms around you tight enough to convince you that he might just be telling the truth.

Just for a moment.

You’ve been best friends for as long as you can remember. Never one without the other; always whispering into each other’s ears or otherwise communicating through flashes of eye contact, kicks under the table.

Wherever he goes, you go. You bicker like a married couple, and trust each other much the same. From the school playground to the Circuit de Monaco – and everywhere in between.

The orchestra swings to life, sending the sound of Wilhelmus skyward. Onscreen in the garage, the camera focuses in on Max: calm, composed, staring off down to the first corner like it’s his next meal.

Nothing has ever happened between you. Not really. No secret rendezvous nor dear diary crushes. Once, and only once, a chaste kiss during a high school game of spin the bottle.

It was about as awkward as it should’ve been. This quick, electric shock of a kiss. Over all too soon and not soon enough. He tasted like the lager he’d been drinking. He steadied himself with a hand on your thigh.

You sat back on your heels, wiped your lips with the sleeve of your sweater, and aped Max’s look of disgust. You snickered with your girlfriends as the circle moved on – but anytime you snuck a glance at him, he was already looking straight back.

He never brought it up again, though – and so neither did you. As far as either of you were concerned, it never happened. You’re just friends.

Best, best friends.

This new guy you’ve been seeing – you met him in a bar in London. He said he liked your dress, said he liked your smile, then offered to buy you a drink. It’s been no more than six weeks, but Max had already quietly decided his thoughts over summer break.

He’s a nice guy, he said, deliberately bumping his rubber ring into yours.

You pushed away from him, floating across the pool. Nice? That’s all you got?

What do you want me to say? I’m not the one dating him.

I just don’t believe that nice is all you have to say. You’re not that good at pretending. I know you too well, Verstappen.

Okay, fine. Too much styling of the hair.

Too much…What?

Yeah. And he wears weird shoes.

Well, he likes F1. Said he’s a fan of yours.

Ha, Max clicked his fingers, That’s the biggest red flag of them all.

Your phone buzzes again. You turn it facedown without looking, and pull your headset on.

The circuit shudders as the anthem comes to an end. The drivers split up, pulling off ice vests and zipping up their suits. The mechanics prop chairs in front of the screen, thumping their helmets over their heads.

Almost ten years in, the anxiety still hangs heavy in your stomach. The rumble of the engines, the babble from the loudspeakers. The rapid-fire orders shot over your head in the garage.

It comes naturally to Max, sure – that doesn’t mean it’s easy for you.

You watch him as he lowers into his car. Eyes narrow and focused, blurring everything but that first bend from his vision. All good humor shaken off, replaced by a vicious hunger to hit the end of the straight first, to be a speck on the horizon before the first lap is through.

Your thumb picks at the 33 sticker on the side of your headset. You burst open the bag of pretzels.

Max checks the radio and GP replies: “Loud and clear.”

“Beautiful day,” the driver says, weaving through the formation lap. “Simply lovely.”

You smile, suckling on the salty snack. As nervous as you may feel, at least he’s having fun.

He brings the car to a soft stop on his line and waits as the others follow suit. The lights flick on one by one, a painful pause between each. One sharp breath, held at the bottom of your throat, – and the red dissolves.

The Red Bull fires down the track.

Your lungs fill with a gulp of fuel-fumed air. Veins flood with warmth – the ice-cold grip around each nerve thawed as soon as Max begins to lead the flock.

He fights off contenders for first all the way to turn four – snuffing the flame of a Ferrari here, squeezing the papaya of a McLaren there. He catapults ahead just past Hunserug, and the garage springs to cheerful life.

In your headset, the pit wall is serious, fixed on the race. They murmur over wavelengths, static fizzling between words. Voices flat and emotionless; statistics on top of statistics, strategies on top of strategies.

You crush more pretzels between your molars, watching, unblinking. You twist the cord around your index finger, draining the tip of blood, then loosen again as Max puts more than a second between his car and the next.

He’s doing good. He always does good, as far as you’re concerned.

He’s doing what he always says he was made to do. He was raised this way, weathered into shape by each storm he powered his way through. Not born, not destined – Max doesn’t believe in any of that shit.

God doesn’t drive F1 cars, he’ll say. I do.

A couple tense laps pass. The Red Bull is still up front, though he’s tussling with the Ferrari now hot on his tail. Each chance his pursuer takes, each split-second jab at his lead, Max has already squashed before it materializes.

He rips around turn fourteen, following the track through its widest bend down to fifteen, and hits the main straight to thunderous applause. The cars scream past the pits, a roar sliced in two as they barrel straight for Tarzan.

The gap is barely two tenths. The mechanics clutch their helmets. Max taunts the corner on the outside of the track, eyeing his target.

“Defend,” one of the mechanics growls. “Hold him, Max.”

The Ferrari tucks behind, its front wing edging closer and closer.

You blink.

The red car swings out, shuddering with the force of the maneuver. He steadies himself and floors it, each closing centimeter perilous.

Blink again.

They’re side by side. Almost wheel to wheel. There’s no way Max can’t see that scarlet smirk from the corner of his eye. The apex is right there, though, it’s right fucking there.

Another blink, and –

He’s gone.

He’s gone. He’s –

Hurtling off the track. At almost two hundred miles per hour. The gravel spits at him as he spins; smoke and dust billow from beneath. He slams straight into the barrier, and, finally, the moment ends.

Your chest shrinks; a weak wheeze passes your lips. “Oh, my God.”

The mechanics leap to their feet. They bark amongst themselves like a pack of angry dogs, though you can’t make out a word.

Your hearing is shot. Every sound bleeds into the next; one long, high-pitched scream. You move without thinking, without feeling; slip off the stool and tug your headset. It hits the desk with a distant clatter, though you’re already wandering away.

The sound of the crowd rattles against your skull. Numb, muted. An awful groaning sound as the cloud lifts, revealing the chewed-up car.

It’s bad. It’s the worst one in a long time. He must’ve hit that barrier at near-enough full speed. The dread fills your lungs like torrents of heavy, black water. Sickly salt, suffocating sea. Oh, God.

You scan the garage for any of his mechanics. Matt. Ole. Chris. Fucking – any of them. Who did he say would bring you to him when this was over? He said he’d meet you at the podium. He said he’d find you –

A rough hand grabs your elbow.

Max’s face flickers across your vision. Blue steel gaze, freckle above his lip. The dust pulls him away from your grasp. He hits the barrier again and again and again.

“Max –”

The voice is calm – too fucking calm, you think, when it tells you, “He’s talking. They’ve got him talking.”

“Talking,” you echo, begging it to solidify in your brain. “Can you put me on to him?”

The engineer pulls you over to the exit. He plucks at his mic, murmurs some response down the line to the team. He takes your wrist and leads you out, muttering, “C’mon.”

“Hey,” you tug on his arm, “Please let me speak to him.”

“You will,” he replies, snaking through the tight corridor. “Once he’s out, they’ll check him over. He’ll be taken in for evaluation, hitting the wall at that speed. Force must be bloody nuts.”

The thought sends another bitter stream of panic through your blood. “Can he move? Is he –? Can he get out of the car?”

He gives one quick nod. “Medics are there. They’re helping him out.”

Sunlight floods overhead, dazzling as you follow him out front and towards a sleek car. An attendant opens the door for you, and you slide into the backseat.

The engineer gives your shoulder a friendly shake. “He’ll be fine,” he says. “He’s done worse.”

The door falls closed and the car moves off, purring through the paddock towards the medical center.

You slump into your seat and press your fingers into your eyes; a headache already blooming between your temples.

He’s moving. He’s moving and he’s responding. They’re helping him up out of the car. He’s probably already being checked over.

He’s probably already asking for you.

“Jesus Christ,” you groan, fingers dragging down your cheeks.

The center is a polite little hut inside the circuit. By the time you pull up, the race has already resumed. The remaining cars whizz by as you jog over, slipping inside behind a couple guys from Max’s team.

He’s had his fair share of scraps on the track. You don’t make it to the top without a sincere sense of dare, and an even sincerer lack of fear. Some call it idiocy. You’re often one of them.

Sitting on the other side of the clinic door, though – knee jerking, nails picking at the skin on your fingers – you’d be thrilled to never see these four walls ever again. Idiot or not, you care about him.

More than anyone else in your life? Jesus. Probably.

The door clicks open, and your blood jumps.

A pale woman in a pale coat steps out. She peers over her glasses, eyes you from the sneakers on your feet to the worry on your face – and says your name.

You push yourself up, squeezing past her into the room.

Max is perched on the edge of the bed, still in his fireproofs. Hair disheveled, face flushed and exhausted. Translucent with shock or concussion or worse, he lifts his head and flashes a lopsided smile.

It’s weak, barely there – but it’s him.

You care about him more than anyone else in your life. Definitely.

He opens his arms, fingers beckoning you in. “C’mere.”

“Oh, my God,” you sweep over, already in tears by the time you meet his body, “Oh, my God – you fucking idiot.”

His shoulders shudder with a bottled laugh. He wraps his arms around your waist, turning his head against your chest. “How was I supposed to know he was going to turn into me, huh? I had the line, I was –”

“Max,” you pull back, staring into his bleary eyes, “I don’t care. Just – don’t do that ever again.”

“I didn’t do anything,” he whispers, corners of his mouth twitching.

You sigh, collapsing onto the bed at his side. You lean against him and he winces a little, before pressing his lips to the crown of your head.

“You really scared me,” you admit, turning in to his chest.

Max slings an arm around your shoulders, holding you tight. “I’m fine, no? I mean, everything’s blurry and I can’t really hear much, but – it could have been worse.”

He props the pillows against the wall and pushes himself back gingerly, reaching past you for a paper cup of water at his bedside.

You move slowly, carefully, waiting for him to get comfortable before settling back, too – leaving a safe gap between his battered body and yours. Your cheek rests on the curve of his shoulder; fingers trace the logos on his sleeves.

Max breathes in the scent of your hair. He turns his hand and watches as your fingers trail down his wrist, circling his palm. He sucks in a deep breath, sighing to the ceiling.

“Your heart’s beating really fast,” you whisper, and he hums.

“Nerves,” he mutters.

“From the race?” You lift your head. “You don’t get nervous.”

He takes another breath and turns to you. He’s blushing, and doing a shitty job at hiding it. “No,” he says. “Not from the race.”

You gulp. “Are you sore?”

“Yeah. My back, my ribs.”

“Do you want me to get up?”

“No. Stay.”

He wears the same expression he did all those years ago, sat too many people apart from one another in that drunken circle. The same expression you only allowed yourself fleeting glances at: bashful, a little awkward – all the more endearing for it.

Maybe he actually doesn’t remember that night. Maybe he was just too tipsy – alcohol gone straight to his teenage head. And maybe he won’t even remember this, what with the concussion and all.

It’d make things a hell of a lot easier, that’s for sure. You could go back to your old ways: arguing over the best flavor of chips, screaming while playing video games. No second-guessing, no jumping to conclusions. Hell, maybe you hope he doesn’t remember any of it at all.

Somewhere, though, deep down – you know that’s not true.

“How’s, uh…whatshisface?” Max asks, nudging you with his elbow. He takes a feeble sip of his water and offers you the cup.

“Oh,” you shrug, “No idea. I left my phone in the garage.”

He scoffs, staring at your lips as you take a drink. He takes the cup from your hands once you’re done. “I don’t mean to give him shit, you know. If you like him, I like him.”

“Well, there’s liking someone,” you pout, “and then there’s willingly watching them crash full-speed in a racecar.”

Max smiles, lifting his cup.

“Whoever that is, sounds pretty cool to me.”

[starbuck]

MAN, Trouble in Paradise (1932) is really good…

i cannot believe that THIS of all films was the one i was lucky enough to stumble into ~18 months ago… how fortunate am i?

[fastandcarlos]

Hickey : ̗̀➛ Lando Norris

summary: with all eyes on him, lando can't help but wonder what everyone is captured by. but when he finds out the problem, it's much bigger than he ever could've imagined

The room seemed to fall silent as soon as Lando walked in, with several glances moving in his direction. His heart began to race as he heard sniggers come from around the room, it was something that he wasn’t used to, usually greeted with wide smiles and shakes of the hand. 

It was almost as if he’d walked into a dream, it was unlike anything that Lando had experienced before. He nervously walked to the side of the room as the drivers waited to be called out for the parade, seeking comfort from Oscar and a few of his other close friends who were stood in the corner of the room. 

“What’s going on?” Lando queried as he stood between Oscar and Carlos, his eyes drawn to the expressions on their faces and how they tried their best to not smile across at him. 

“Did you have a nice evening?” Carlos innocently asked him. 

Lando nodded in confusion as a scoff came from George who was just beside Carlos. Lando’s brows knitted together as his anxiety built, hating the feeling as if he was missing out on something amongst them all.  

“Y/N’s here this weekend, isn’t she?” Oscar asked. Lando nodded, knowing that Oscar already knew the answer. “We can tell you guys haven’t seen each other for a while.” 

It didn’t take long before a couple of the other drivers joined their group, not wanting to miss out. There were a few exchanged glances amongst them all, but Lando just couldn’t piece together what they were all trying to say to each other as their eyes silently spoke.  

“Did you happen to have a look in the mirror before you left your hotel room this morning? Or did Y/N say anything to you?” Alex asked, shaking his head across at Lando. 

“She was still asleep, and I was running late.” 

No one could quite believe how oblivious Lando was as he shrugged. It had grabbed everyone’s attention as soon as he entered the room, and had probably delighted the cameras as soon as Lando entered the paddock that morning.  

“Can someone just tell me what I’m missing please?” Lando asked of them all. 

Whilst some of them continued their laughter, Charles pulled his phone out of his back pocket and opened up his camera. Lando immediately panicked when he saw what Charles was doing, brushing over his face. Little did he know though, it wasn’t something that could just be brushed off. 

“Just so you know, I said to the others that we should tell you,” Charles defended before he went to turn his phone around, at least trying to offer Lando one supportive friend. 

“Tell me what? Just tell me what’s the matter.” 

A sigh came from Charles as he turned his phone around. Lando studied himself carefully in it, but couldn’t spot anything, nothing that usually wasn’t out of the ordinary.  

“Can you really not see the issue?” Oscar asked, struggling to hold back his laughter. 

As Lando shook his head, Carlos walked over to him and pulled down the side of his hoodie. Watching on as the material moved, Lando’s eyes soon went wide. 

“Now can you see what the problem is?” Carlos sighed at him, tapping his finger just below him. “Now do you see why you’re the centre of attention this morning?” 

His heart began to race as he moved closer towards the phone, noticing just how dark the mark on his neck was. His eyes shut, knowing that there was nothing that he could do about it, dreading to think what had already happened before he even noticed too. 

“I’ve got a hickey,” Lando muttered underneath his breath. 

No one quite knew where to look as Lando looked around in panic. It was beyond anything that Lando could’ve ever imagined, almost like the things that nightmares are made of, especially when you get as much attention as he does. 

“What am I supposed to do?” He nervously asked, but no one seemed to have the answer, it was a situation that none of the drivers had ever found themselves in before. 

There was one driver though who had a bit of an idea. “What about if you paint yourself purple for the race today, that way it’ll blend in and no one will ever know?” 

“Daniel, sometimes I really just want to knock you out.” 

Whilst Lando looked unimpressed, Daniel’s suggestion earnt a chorus of laughs from many of the other drivers. Whilst some couldn’t hold back their giggles, luckily for Lando, he had a couple who could sympathise. 

“There’s got to be some merch somewhere that’ll hide your neck,” Alex suggested, throwing his arm over Lando’s shoulders. “If that fails, just pretend you’ve got a nasty stomach bug and ask to go home.” 

“I’m just going to have to own it now, I bet there’s headlines everywhere, aren’t there?” Lando asked, the silence around the room telling him everything that he needed to know. 

Of all of the boys, George cleared his throat. “I promise that the headlines aren’t as terrible as you probably think they are Lando.” 

Lando nodded, it still didn’t make him feel any better. Especially for you. You were just a few minutes from arriving at the paddock and he knew exactly what sort of questions would be sent your way upon your arrival. 

Like the media, a few of the boys couldn’t help but think about Y/N too. “Have you got matching marks or something?” Daniel quizzed, unable to stop himself messing with Lando, just like Lando had done with him many times. “Are you just letting everyone know you’re together this weekend.” 

“You can tease me all you want, but none of you are to say anything to Y/N,” Lando quickly warned them all, “she’s going to be embarrassed enough about this as it is when she gets here.” 

“I never had Y/N down for this type of person.” 

“Daniel!” Lando groaned, elbowing him in the side. “I’m being serious, if anyone says anything to Y/N then I can guarantee you right now that I know all of your weaknesses and I will happily expose you all for them.” 

It was funny watching Lando be serious, but when it came to you, they all knew just how much he meant it. He would back you all the way and defend you no matter what had happened. 

“At least we all know you and Y/N are happy together,” Carlos grinned as he tried to lighten the mood again. “Let’s worry more about covering this mess up for now seeing as we’ve got a race to get to soon.” 

“You’re all enjoying this too much,” Lando scolded, displeased by the smirks on many of his closest friends around him. “Some of you really need to get yourselves girlfriends.” 

As Lando went to walk off with Carlos, Charles quickly stopped him. Before Lando could protest, Charles used his phone to take a photo of Lando and keep it as a memory. 

“Just for the future,” he innocently smiled as Lando hit against his arm. “I think this is an important day that we might all want to remember one day.” 

“I’ve never hated a group of people more in my life,” Lando sighed as Charles slotted his phone away. “At least there’s one person who wants to help me out.” 

“I’ve got no sympathy,” Oscar shrugged, seemingly the spokesperson of the group. “You should’ve known what you were doing back at your hotel last night.” 

Lando’s eyes rolled at Oscar’s scolding, “do you think if I knew this was going to happen I would have let Y/N do this to me?” He quizzed, pointing at the mark. 

“Knowing you, yes,” Oscar couldn’t help but laugh, “anything to get a little bit of attention, we all know what you’re like with your relationship.” 

“I honestly hate you all.” 

“But at least we all know Y/N loves you though!” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[verstappen-cult]

OBSESSED, M. VERSTAPPEN.

✶ SUMMARY. You’ve always been a little bit obsessed with your boyfriend. Especially with his thighs.

Or, 2 times Max catches you looking at his thighs + 1 time you do something about it.

content warnings ✶ disclaimers. fem!reader. max’s thighs. blowjobs. biting. pegging. english is not my first language.

GWEN RAMBLES — this was requested a while ago and just now had the inspo and the time to write it. i’m sorry to the person who asked for this but also big thanks because i’ve also been obsessed with max’s thighs ever since i saw pics of him in those tiny shorts. hopefully we’ll get to see more of that during this summer break. prayer circle, my house at 10pm. 🤞🏼

#1

It’s a very hot summer day and you’re spending it out at sea on Max’s yacht with some of your friends.

And Max is wearing the shortest shorts ever known to man, while also parading himself around the yacht with a gin and tonic in hand.

He’s drunk. You see it in the way he laughs at Daniel’s joke, overly excited and almost doubling down in a hysterical laugh – Max always laughs at whatever comes out of Daniel’s mouth, but when he’s drunk it’s definitely worse – and how he has to grab onto the railing to keep his balance.

His glass is empty, so he excuses himself to go pour some more of his favorite drink. But then he sees you watching him and a big smile breaks out on his face.

“Hey, baby.” He says plopping down next to you, the couch is so comfy that you’ve find yourself dozing off a few times. But the heat has made it impossible for you to catch your sleep. “What are you doing here all alone, pretty girl?”

Oh, yes. He also likes to call you all the petnames in the world when he’s drunk.

You scoff, brushing a strand of hair out of his sweaty forehead. “Jus’ watching you flirt with Daniel.”

“I was not!” He moves away, crossing his arms over his chest like a scolded child.

It is in that exact moment that your gaze is drawn to his legs. His shorts have gone up a little too much, revealing the pale skin of his thick thighs.

Your mouth waters at the sight.

Images of those thighs wrapped around your waist as you fu—

“What you looking at?” Max’s tone is teasing, a smirk dancing on his lips. He knows exactly what you’re looking at.

Your eyes snap up to his, heat going up your chest all the way to your face.

“Oh, shut up.” You bite back, forcing yourself to look away. You raise your own glass of gin and tonic to your lips just to have something to do.

Max keeps on looking at you, you can feel his blue eyes boring holes in the side of your face.

Eventually, he stands up. Right in front of you, so you have no other option than to look at him.

"See something you like?" He asks, chewing on his bottom lip.

You're about to open your mouth to say something witty when he just simply turns around and goes back to the rest of the group.

If your eyes remained fixed on his ass, nobody needs to know that.

#2

Max is training on the terrace. It's a chilly day in Monaco, so he decided to skip going to the gym and, instead, to do his daily training at home.

On one side it's good because he just got back from Italy and you've missed him. You want to spend as much time as you can with him before he needs to travel to the next country.

But on the other side, it’s torture.

You were enjoying a really good book you picked up last week, an orange juice by your side on the lounge chair when he decided it was a good idea to start training mere feet away from you in those stupid shorts of his.

Now you’re trying to make out the words in the page as he sits at the other side of the terrace, legs spread and feet planted on the floor as he does some lifting. His hair is long, so a few strands of hair fall over his eyes.

Your gaze is set in the way the muscle of his thigh tenses as he lifts the weights, then relaxing again while a groan falls from his lips. He repeats the action again. And again.

By the fourth time, you feel overwhelmed and short of breath.

"You've been reading the same page for a while now. Is it that good?" There's a glint of amusement in his eyes and a smirk gracing his lips.

"Uh?" You ask dumbly, swallowing the lump in your throat.

All the blood in your body flows to your face as thoughts of feeling his thighs tensing under your hands while doing something completely different flood your mind.

"You can at least pretend," He snorts, setting the weights aside.

Max grabs a towel to wipe the sweat off his face, his other hand brushing through his hair.

He's so unfairly hot.

You need to cool down. You need to do something.

+1

You successfully avoided your boyfriend the rest of the morning, deciding instead to go to your room to actually read the book. Being as far away as possible from him is what you needed. It’s not fair he looks so good lifting weights.

That was until Max came into the room announcing he was going to take a shower. You didn’t even raised your head, you just kept reading.

But then he emerged from the bathroom wearing nothing more than his boxers.

If you were having a hard time with his shorts before, it is so much worse now. You don’t even know how he put them on, his thighs are one second away from ripping them into pieces.

“Stop ogling me.” He’s drying his hair with a towel, drops of water falling down his naked chest.

You pout, leaving your book aside. You know you will not be reading any more pages today, not while he’s standing there like a sweet waiting to be devoured. “It’s not my fault you have such huge thighs.”

“Thanks, I guess?”

“Don’t be like that,” You get out of bed, walking to him. “I know you like it when I thirst over you.”

“Yes. Because I love being perceived as nothing more than a sex symbol.” Max takes one of his hundreds Red Bull shirts out of the closet, but before he has time to put it on, you throw it across the room.

Max’s complaint dies in his throat when he sees the hunger in your eyes.

“Admit that you like it.” You plant your hands on his chest, pushing him backwards until his back is against the wall.

The towel falls from his hands and he swallows with a barely perceptible nod of his head.

You shake your head, grabbing a pillow from the bed and throwing it in front of him. “No, I want you to say it.” You maintain eye contact as you fall down on your knees, it’s almost funny the way his eyes widen.

His jaw goes slack when he feels your hands on the waistband of his underwear.

“Yes,” He sighs, closing his eyes tightly. “I like it.”

You coo, placing a hand over your heart. “See?” You feign pitying him. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Max whines when you finally pull his boxers down, his already growing cock springing free.

“I don’t know,” He breathes out, looking down at you. “what you like about my thighs so much.”

You have to laugh, a finger moving up and down his left thigh. “What do you mean? Haven’t you look at how,” You grab his thighs, fingers sinking into the muscled flesh. “thick they are? You have no idea how much I want to bite them.”

“Do it.” The words are out of his mouth before he has time to think about it. Not that he doesn’t want you to do it, it’s that if he thinks too much about it he might lose his mind.

You look into his eyes, so blue and deep as the sea, before looking at what you have right in front of you.

The object of your most recent fantasies.

Max takes a sharp intake of breath as you lean in, but instead of immediately biting into the flesh, you run your tongue from the bottom all the way to the top, stopping right before you reach his pelvis. His cock twitching at having your mouth so close.

"Think of how pretty these would look with my teeth marks." Max groans, fisting his hands by his sides. "You should definitely use those tiny shorts now to show everyone what you let me do."

Max can't say anything, his mind going fuzzy at the edges already. He feels like his whole body is on fire.

You keep running your tongue over his left thigh, occasionally sucking a mark. Only when you're pleased with your work, you move to the other one.

"Plea—" A moan gets ripped from his throat when you sink your teeth into his thigh, your hand brushing against his cock. The second time you do it, Max thrust his hips up at nothing.

"So fucking perfect." You moan seeing the final result. "I can't believe you're letting me mark you."

Max is about to reply when you wrap your lips around the head of his cock.

"Oh, fuck!"

With the help of your hand you start stroking what doesn't fit in your mouth, the taste and how big it feels against your tongue making you moan.

Max tangles his fingers in your hair. His vision going blurry as you twirl your tongue around the tip of his cock and, without warning, taking as much as you can in your mouth until your nose touches his pelvis. You have to stop yourself for a few seconds to breathe through your nose, before pulling back until only the head is in your mouth. Slowly, and lifting your gaze up to his, you start bobbing up and down, hollowing your cheeks.

Max's moans and pants fill the room, mixing with the slurping sounds of your mouth and tongue working on his shaft.

You drag your teeth along the sides of his cock, and Max hisses in response. "Fuck, do it again." And you do it, pulling an obscene sound from him.

When Max looks down, he finds the hand that's not on his thigh, feeling the muscles tensing under it, between your legs, moving in circles against your clit.

Max thrusts his hips up, not being able to hold back, and immediately regrets it when he hears you cough. But then you’re pull off him, a grin on your face as you wipe the saliva with the back of your hand.

"Do it again."

That's the only thing you say before taking him deeper into your throat.

Max pulls lightly on your scalp, and you moan around him. It makes him do it again as he start thrusting his hips into your mouth, the gagging sounds almost enough to send him over the edge.

"Fuck, look at you. So pretty with your mouth full of my cock."

You moan and squeeze his thighs, hearing his breathing get more ragged lets you know how close he is to his release.

So, you pull off him.

Max groans at not feeling the warmth of your mouth around him anymore. He was so close to spilling down you throat.

"On the bed." Your throat is sore and are in need of a glass of water. But it can wait.

It takes him a moment to process your words, but then he's moving and climbing into the bed.

You stand up, your knees hurting despite having the pillow underneath, and open the special drawer you two have in the closet.

Max's gasps makes you chuckle.

You take out Max's favorite harness and one of your favorite dildos. It's a little smaller than Max's huge cock. Just a little bit.

You leave it by Max's side as you climb on top of him. "Spread your legs." He does it, getting comfortable against the pillows. "More." You help him by bending his right knee, feet planted on the mattress.

You take your sweatpants and underwear off, before leaning over to grab some lube from the nightstand.

Max's blue eyes glaze over. You straddle his left thigh, a soft moan falls from your mouth when your cunt makes contact with his skin, and he flexes his thigh.

"You—," He groans, tilting his head back against the pillows. "You're already soaking my thigh." He says in a gasp, his hand finding your hip and helping you move against him. "Got turned on by sucking my cock, uh?" He teases you and all you can do is nod, at a loss of words, your clit dragging against his muscled thigh making you whimper.

You're overwhelmed by the pleasure, only able to moan his name over and over, and over again. Your eyelids fluttering shut when you grind just right against him.

But you have a plan, so without pausing the drag of your pussy, you grab the lube, popping the cap and coating two fingers.

Max looks intently as you warm your fingers before guiding them to where he needs you the most. He instinctively spreads his legs some more, giving you enough space.

Your cling onto Max's arm on your hip to keep moving against his thigh as you slip your index finger into the tight heat of Max's hole.

Max moans loudly. He doesn't know where to look, if at you bouncing on his thigh or at where your finger disappears inside of him.

"More," He grits his teeth on a whimper, closing his eyes for a second. "Please."

And who are you to say no? You slide your finger all the way in, pumping slowly until you have him moaning for more; so you add a second finger, scissoring them to open him up.

Your legs begin to shake, forcing Max to help you by tensing his muscles which makes it easier to grind against him. The angle is a little weird, but neither of you seem to care.

Max's hips thrust up to meet your fingers, which are now hitting his prostate on every stroke. He's out of breath, pre-cum pooling on his lower belly, and throws his head back, clenching around your fingers.

Seeing him so desperate only spurs you on.

Your climax takes you by surprise. White-hot pleasure erupts behind your eyelids with a broken moan. His name, Max, Max, Max echoing in the room. Head thrown back in pure ecstasy.

It takes you a moment to go back to yourself and when you do, Max has a desperate look on his face, jaw slack and eyebrows furrowed.

"You're so unfairly hot." Finally letting him know your thoughts from earlier. "You okay, baby?" You ask, teasingly. Moving your fingers slowly, staring intently down at his face.

"More." He cries out.

"You're doing so good for me, Max." You praise him, fucking your fingers in harder, making him moan louder. You love to make him moan like this.

When Max starts babbling, you know he's getting close. So, you pull your fingers out. He's shivers slightly, feeling desperate at being so close to his orgasm again but not being able to reach for it.

While Max is busy trying to control his breathing, you grab the harness to lube up the toy.

Max groans desperately when he feels you between his spread legs, the head of the dildo sliding easily into his hole.

You stare intently down at him and he grabs your hips to help you slide all the way in until your hips are pressed up against his ass. You place your hands on his thighs, and he immediately wraps them around your waist with enough force to keep you still, not letting you move.

You stare into each other's eyes, and then you're meeting halfway in a hungry and messy kiss. You feel like you can't breathe and need him to survive, and for the way he licks into your mouth you know he feels the same.

When you pull away, he nods at you to continue. You grip his hips, setting a brutal pace that has him groaning and fisting the sheets.

Max whines and squeezes his eyes shut, feeling you so deep it’s almost sucking the air out of him.

"Does it feel good?" You pant, fucking harder. The slapping of your skin against his so obscene it makes your cunt clench around nothing.

It's good, it's incredible even. But he needs more, he needs—

"I want to ride you."

Your brain buzzes, his words echoing in your head. "Yeah?" You slow down, biting your lip when you find his eyes, blue completely swallowed by black.

He helps you pull out and sit against the headboard, and you can't tear your eyes away from his bruised thighs, the love bites and teeth marked a reminder of your obsession with that specific part of him.

Max pushes himself up on his knees and straddles you, hovering over your cock. He maintains eye contact as he wraps his hands around it and slowly lowers himself.

His thighs clench as he feels the tip breaching his ring of muscles. It feels tighter, even though you've been inside of him moments ago. He manages to sink down completely, hissing at feeling so full.

"Just—give me a second." He whispers, one of his hands holding onto your shoulder.

Max lifts himself up, your cock almost slipping out, only the tip still inside, before letting himself fall down. He keeps that rhythm for a few minutes, adjusting to the feeling of you inside of him.

When he starts bouncing on your cock with a little more force, you start to thrust your hips up to meet him, ripping moan after moan from his throat.

"You feel so, shit, so good." He sighs, leaning in to connect your lips.

You moan into each other's mouths, your cock hitting that particular spot inside of him.

Max breaks the kiss and places his hands on your legs behind him, bracing himself as he rolls his hips, the new angle making his mind shut down completely.

"Good boy," You praise him, gaze flicking from his leaking cock to his bruised thighs clenching every time he pushes himself up. "Taking my cock so well. Look at you, so pretty."

You know you hit his prostate when he sobs, your name falling from his lips like a prayer.

His movements become sloppy, his thighs clenching with more force as he gets closer and closer to his orgasm.

A few more thrust with your fingers digging into his hips, and he's shooting a huge load of his cum across his stomach and even chest. He sees stars behind his eyes, his climax so intense he feels like passing out. He keeps on riding you through his orgasm, letting his head fall forward against your forehead. He only stops when starts to feel overstimulated.

Both of you stay silent for a few moments, trying to catch your breath. Only when Max feels like he's not going to pass out, he opens his eyes to see you already looking at him, a soft smile on your lips.

He kisses you softly. "So, what about my thighs? Really, I need to know because it's a little weird."

You huff, rolling your eyes. "It's not weird."

Max laughs, cupping your cheek. "Of course not."

"It is not!" You say indignantly, your thumbs drawing patterns on his hips. "It's like you being obsessed with my tits. I don't tell you it's weird."

"I have teeth marks all over my thighs. I won't be able to wear shorts for weeks."

"I didn't hear you complaining when I was on my knees." You shrug as Max gests comfortable on top of you, the toy still sitting inside of him.

"Shut up, you weirdo." He jokes.

"You love me."

He looks at you, pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss. "I do."

do not repost, translate, plagiarise or claim any of my works as your own. | © verstappen-cult, 2024.

[qvrcll]

nsfw, fem reader + borderline phone sex

teasing coriolanus snow through a line whilst he’s out parading himself as a peacekeeper with new responsibilities and goals? absolutely.

the ordeal is messy at first. you’re not sure if this is a good idea in the first place (considering the whole good man act he’s piecing together to get back to the capitol, so fragile already) but what is there to lose? you miss him terribly and on the off-chance, you get to catch him off guard, much to his dismay.

so, it starts.

“snow, there’s a caller out for you,” a stone faced peacekeeper yells, voice like gravel. really, not a mouth for conversation, so snow goes as much as to nod before reaching the relevant station. his hands are clammy, oddly, and he wishes the call were from back home. tigris, grand’maam… you.

you, who has kept his faith in this place with just images in his mind. memories.

but to hope is to lose and to lose is beneath him - so, snow keeps his wits about him. he finds a seat and sticks to it like glue, spreading his back and finding space for his feet as the machine ahead whirrs gently. there’s no one here at this point of time - calls are short and rare, which reminds him to not bide his time too much, to not panic and, admittedly, he’s never felt his heart in his throat until now.

“hello?” his voice is crisp, weak in its echo.

there’s cracking on the other end, before a face blends within the static, a smile already tinged in the viewer’s feedback. teeth he recognises by sight alone, smile he recognises by warmth alone.

it’s you.

“coryo? god, is this thing working?” you gasp, and he would laugh if the urge to have you wasn’t overwhelming his senses. his nose was already twitching, reddening with an onslaught of emotions as he could hear your words transmitting clearly over the machine’s whirr, “oh my god! coryo!”

the two of you break into smiles and he can sense you on the cusp of tears - not that strange, knowing he’s been away from you for far longer than he ever has. the remedy is always sweet: he coos at you, reassures you.

“have you been crying? what, you missed me?” he asks, clutching the receiver tighter and then loosening his grip a little. there’s a smile in his voice, but you can already see it.

you shift, curling the telephone cord around your finger and nodding, “of course i’ve missed you, coryo. have been missing you so much,” your voice is dripping with the spell of his absence, to which snow sadly smiles at. of course you’d been missing him.

but then, something slips up. time, his breath or the strap of the slip you’re wearing - pretty pink, a rememberable flush of salmon that hugs your body firmly, from what he can see. he almost misses it, almost chooses to focus on the wall nearby instead, out of courtesy. because it was surely a mistake, a little slip up (ironically). but when you fail to pull it up, instead staring at him like he was the loon here, he clears his throat.

“w… well, how have you been?”

“good.” (did you just scoot closer or did he imagine that?)

“how’d tigris… (cough) been?”

“she’s great.” (okay, your thigh definitely hitched up on purpose.)

two questions and he’s already losing his mind. he knows there are no others in the room, but he feels wholly lost, a string of yarn being pushed against nimble fingers - and when he finally looks at you, a warning painted in those azure eyes, he can finally see what you’re getting at. your face is prettily composed, like he remembers, but there’s heat in your shoulders. an ache that he wants to get beneath, curl against his fingers.

he steels himself, gripping the receiver harder and feeling his jaw tighten under the effort of staying calm, “what are you doing?”

you act dumb, of course. there’s that smile - same as before. sickly sweet and barely squashed off of your face as you stare at him, “doing what, coryo?”

“you don’t think i’m dumb, do you? i can see what you’re trying and it’s-“ he casts a wary look behind his shoulder, and spots no one, not a soul, “it’s unfair.”

“unfair?”

“precisely.”

“is this unfair too?”

before he can even squint at that, ask you what exactly you mean, you do your worst: drop the slip and reveal what’s beneath. the skin of your chest is as he remembers, your fingers skirting against your nipples. it all makes his leg jump, his heart clinch uncomfortably under all those bones and all that blood. he’s already hissing, moving closer.

“what the hell are you doing?” he asks, though there’s no malice in his voice. no reprimand. just a small fear and a large amount of desire that spills into a small whimper when you lean back and have the decency to lower your fingers past your belly and beneath.

“i missed you coryo,” you practically eat the words, moaning softly into the receiver as you work yourself open until it’s quite enough. but it never is - you know this and so does snow. one of his many faults, his dexterity that is - pretty, nimble fingers that reach parts of you that need teasing, pushing. fingers that go farther and don’t come back until you’ve had your fill. but you’re making do with what you have and that’s partly why he grits his teeth.

he knows he can do it better.

“talk to me,” he licks a stripe against his lips, eyes zoning in on you. he can’t see below for certain, but with the soft sounds that leave you, he’s plenty satisfied. besides, the thought of those stone faced peace-keepers stepping in and taking an eyeful of you gets him angrier than he would like to be, “how does it feel? good? better than mine?”

“no, no, never-“ you gasp, craning your head backwards and angling your body so you’re resting your weight on your free elbow, “never, coryo - ah - you’re better. need your fingers.”

he feels a strain in his pants. a pain is forming in his dick and the blood is rushing soon down, and he knows this is unruly. unadjustable. he could lose his position. but maybe that’s the thrill in it, isn’t it? closing an eye to his duties is rather easy, and as he palms his dick through the svelte material, the groan that leaves him is inarticulate and roughly pushed out of his throat.

“poor thing needs me all the time, don’t you?” he gasps, palm catching on that sensitive area down below, “have you been doing this - fuck - since i’ve been away?”

he spreads his legs, palming harder and somehow, messier. though the static betrays him, the feedback in the device in front of him does him wonders: your face, contorted just the way he loves it, your fingers inventing some thick, loud sound the more you work your way into your cunt, the weight of your release hung above the two of you like a threat.

“just my fingers - ah - been using ‘em” you cry out, voice high suddenly, “miss you so much. i can’t do this. i need you here - ngh - coryo!”

the noise that leaves you is heavy and it hits him so hard his dick throbs in his pants, so he presses harder onto the muscle and moans painfully slow.

“shit - miss you so much, sweetheart,” he picks up his ordinary pace, “when i’m back home, i’ll give it to you good.”

“promise?”

“fuck - i promise.”

the seconds of orgasm are embarrassing. he clutches the screen and stares open-mouthed at you. wishes he could kiss every bend and curve, every dot and line, but as soon as he feels himself about to spill into his pants, the line cuts. there’s a darkness washing over the screen and he can no longer hear your voice through the wasted receiver.

it clicks - those stupid call times. he’d probably used all his minutes.

he clenches his fist and loosens it up, tossing the receiver back into its apt position. and as much as he is exasperated as he is disconcerted, he composes himself.

several minutes later, a peace-keeper enters. stone faced and dull, just as he remembers them.

“time’s up, snow. get back to your room.”

snow nods, pinching one look at the dark screen of the feed before walking out. as he steers clear of the room, a thought occurs: he better get back home quick so he can fill you up the way you both like best.

(requests for snow / tbosas are open!)

© 2023 qvrcll. do not repost any of my works on any platform.

[ab4eva]

‘Ain’t That Loving You Baby’

Summary: Reader is out of sorts all day - grumpy, petulant, rude and just plain bitchy. Elvis takes it upon himself to set her straight.

Warnings: NFSW 18+, spanking, non-con spanking, established relationship, time period related ideas about marriage/relationships, copious use of pet names, use of the term “daddy”, fingering, aftercare, fluff. Please let me know if I missed anything.

Authors note: Y’all, sometimes inspiration for a fic strikes in the most unexpected of ways, as with this one. I know this isn’t everyone’s cuppa, so if I’ve tagged you and you aren’t into it, apologies and please just keep right on scrolling. Now please enjoy one of my top Elvis fantasies that I will write in as many different ways as humanly possible until the day I die.

Word count: 3.6k

-

You couldn’t quite put your finger on it - why you were so out of sorts today. One minute you were close to tears, feeling sensitive and tender if anyone so much as looked at you the wrong way or seemed the least bit careless with you. The next minute you were blowing up at some poor member of the Memphis Mafia, Vernon or even Elvis himself. You were grumpy, combative, and just generally in a very bad mood. It was as if a black cloud were hanging over your head, following your every step, raining on your own personal parade just to piss you off. The worst part was you knew you were being a brat but you were powerless to stop it. You felt itchy and irritated, on edge from the moment you stepped out the front doors of Graceland that morning to run your errands.

It didn’t help that when you returned, Elvis and the boys were lounging in the living room, making a right mess of things - beer bottles littering every surface, ash trays full to the brim with cigar ash, dirty plates covering the floor - it looked like a literal bomb had gone off. You’d just cleaned the entire house yesterday from top to bottom. Elvis had begged you to hire a housekeeper after you’d gotten married, but you were old fashioned, you saw it as the wife’s job to keep a clean house. And so you did…until all of these beastly men came and messed it up again. You surveyed the mess, a look of displeasure coloring your pretty face, your hands clenched into tight fists. Your heart pounded as you dug your fingernails into the soft flesh of your palm and tried very hard not to scream.

“Oh hey Y/N,” Red said lazily, the first of them to notice you standing in the doorway. “These cookies are damn delicious.” Your eyes zeroed in on his hand and you saw he held one of your freshly baked chocolate chip oatmeal cookies, the ones you’d painstakingly made dozens of last night. They were meant for the cookie exchange your book club was having tomorrow. Your eyes slowly surveyed the rest of the men in the living room, all of them perched here and there on the furniture or the floor… and all of them with cookies in their hands. The big platter heaped with cookies you had carefully placed on top of the fridge now sat almost empty in the middle of the coffee table. Your eyes found Elvis’s as you inhaled sharply and gave him a look that could kill. He had the good grace to look abashed as he quickly dropped the cookie he was holding, standing up slowly from where he sat on the couch as he moved towards you, holding both hands in front of him in a gesture meant to placate you but it only enraged you further.

“Now baby, we didn’t mean to eat all these here cookies, but you know they’re my favorite and I-I-I couldn’t resist. And I had to share with the guys, otherwise what kind of host would I be?” His blue eyes were sparkling with something close to amusement and his voice dripped honey, soft and low, soothing. He knew the look you were giving him, knew he had to tread carefully.

“Elvis…baby,” you said in a dangerous and mocking whisper, “those cookies were for my book club.” You spat the words out through gritted teeth, barely containing your rage. The thing is, you were usually so easygoing, so even-keeled, the very definition of hospitable to guests in your home. Normally, this wouldn’t even phase you. But today? It made you so angry you could barely speak. Poor Jerry had the unfortunate thought at that moment to try and smooth the situation over by offering to clean up the mess they’d made only to have you snap at him (“Don’t bother! None of you had the bright idea to even think before turning my living room into a pigsty!”) as you stomped out of the room.

Things didn’t end there as your rampage continued for the rest of the day, cutting down anyone and anything daring to cross your path. Vernon made the mistake of asking you about a shopping bill for some new dresses you purchased last week, innocently wanting to know the total so he could add it to the monthly expense account. You almost wrung his neck - the sheer audacity of the man! The Colonel came sweeping in cheerily in the late afternoon, trying to pull one of his old carney tricks on you, thinking it would lighten your mood. It had the opposite effect and you told him off so completely that even Elvis had to chuckle at it with a bemused smile. But the final straw came that evening, as you and Elvis sat peacefully (for his part, at least) in the living room, quietly reading after a rather tense dinner. You made some snide, off the cuff remark aimed at the way your husband’s business was being run and in an instant, you knew you’d stepped over the line, pushed Elvis past the limit of what he’s willing to take.

As soon as the words fly out of your mouth you wish you could pull them back in, gather the broken pieces of them and keep them inside. You suck in a gasp, your eyes flying to his face, realizing your mistake too late, realizing your bad mood has landed you here, in uncharted territory. Only once before had you taken things too far - two weeks after your wedding - Elvis had stormed out of the house in a barely suppressed rage only to return the next morning, acting as if nothing had even happened. You see his body still and his blue eyes widen in surprise before they darken, anger and annoyance flashing across his face before being replaced with a look of willful determination. You know that look, it’s the one he gets when he has an idea in his head, and like a dog with a bone, won’t let go until he gets what he wants. Your heart speeds up in your chest, pounding almost painfully, you feel a little lightheaded and your mouth goes dry. You swallow thickly, opening your mouth to apologize, to take back the words you’ve already said, anything at all to stop this train from hurtling off the cliff. “Elvis, I-,” the words start to tumble from your mouth in a rush before he cuts you off angrily.

“That’s enough!” he yells, his voice booming loud and firm, your ears ringing with the force of it. “Now listen here, girl, I don’t know what’s gotten into you today, but that’s. Enough.” His voice is now dangerously low as he punctuates each word with a stab of his finger in your direction, his gold rings glittering wildly in the soft light of the room. He stands abruptly and strides towards you, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you to his chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly and holding you there. You struggle against him, beating his solid chest with your closed fists like a child, not wanting to be held.

“Lemme go…let me go!” you practically scream in his face. Something inside you refuses to be comforted in this moment, you feel as if he’s suffocating you. You don’t want him to touch you, don’t want him near you. And yet, it’s all you want, to be here, in his arms. His deliciously musky scent fills your nostrils as he presses your head into his shirt in an attempt to calm you. His chest is heaving with restrained emotion and his wiry chest hairs tickle your nose through his unbuttoned collar. Confusion swirls in your brain, you’re too upset to sort through the emotions that have been tormenting you all day as you thrash against him. His lip curls up in an annoyed smirk as he grabs your flailing fists, pinning them to your side as his jaw clenches, his strong arms vise-like as he clutches you tightly to his chest.

“Now, you’re gonna tell me why ya got a bee in your britches, darlin. Why ya been a goddamn brat all goddamn day… or I’m gonna make ya tell me,” he commands, his voice rough and low. His eyes search yours and his nostrils flair slightly as he breathes heavily, trying to keep you in check as you still struggle against him. You can see the vein in his neck, the one that drives you wild, popping out - which means he’s excited or angry - or both.

“I’d like to see you try,” you spit at him scornfully, your bright eyes challenging him, your lip turning up into a slight sneer as you wriggle some more.

“Don’t test me, little one. I think someone needs an attitude adjustment and I’m just the one to give it to ya.” He squeezes you tighter in his arms as you squirm, still trying to break free, and suddenly you’re having a little trouble breathing. You stop moving for a moment and his grip loosens just a little as you gulp in a breath of air. “As your husband, it’s my job to set you right when you’re misbehaving. So I’m gonna ask ya again, darlin - why are ya so outta sorts today?”

You stare at him, at a loss for words. Truthfully, you don’t know what’s gotten into you. It’s just a bad day. You remember waking up and feeling fine, maybe a little tired. Elvis was already gone, his side of the bed cold and empty. He’d been distracted with contract negotiations when you found him in the kitchen, already eating breakfast. Without you. You had wanted to tell him a story about something that happened yesterday that made you think of him. But just as you were about to he was up and out for a meeting, without ever kissing you good morning. Or goodbye. All of these little things, you suddenly realize, subconsciously added up to you feeling neglected and uncared for by him. They had curled inside your belly without you knowing, sending sad thoughts to your brain all day long. You bite your lip as it all comes rushing in and you feel yourself close to tears.

You can’t tell him these things. They’re all too silly, too small, too insignificant in the grand scheme of it all. You just stare at him, your chest heaving, your eyes silently pleading with him to understand as a tear slips down your cheek unbidden. He softens for a moment, a dozen different thoughts flashing across his readable face. He gently wipes your tear with his thumb and presses a kiss to your cheek where it fell. Then he nods once, as if making up his mind about something. He releases you, grabbing your wrist again, practically dragging you over to the big, comfy chair at the edge of the living room. You go rather willingly, unsure of what his plan is. His other hand settles on the back of your neck, gently, as he starts to push you down over the back of the chair. You suddenly understand that something you have no control over is about to happen and you start to fight him again. But he keeps a firm grasp on your wrist as he keeps pushing your head down until you are bent almost in two over the back of the chair. If his iron grip on you didn’t entirely prevent you from moving, his strong, lean body standing behind you and pressing you into the chair does.

“Stop squirming, or I’ll have to tie you down.” His voice in your ear is breathy, somewhere between amused and annoyed. “Don’t think I won’t, honey. You’ve been ornery all day and you don’t get a say in what happens now, ya hear me? Just remember, this is for your own good. And I love you.” You stop moving, knowing he’ll do whatever he deems necessary to see this through. He releases his grip on you and steps to the side, his left arm settling heavily across your back to hold you down as he rucks your short dress up around your hips. You feel him run a hand across your round ass, cupping it and squeezing softly. You hear what can only be described as a delighted breath escaping his lips behind you, the soft huff of a chuckle, his ribcage expanding against your arm as he breathes deeply. The pressure as he grips your ass gets harder and harder before he suddenly stops and his cool fingers toy with the edge of your panties around your waist before he unceremoniously yanks them down to your ankles.

“Last chance, baby,” he says through gritted teeth, his tone stern as he pins you to the chair. You start to squirm again, panic rising in your chest. He’s about to spank you. He…he’s never done that before. Not even for fun. Your body starts to tremble and you shake your head, refusing to speak. You feel him raise his right hand and a ghost of a breeze whispers across your bare bottom. You squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep breath, your heart banging painfully in your chest, preparing as best you know how. You haven’t been spanked since you were a little girl and there’s something wrong, and slightly exciting, about it.

He delivers the first slap to your bottom with a firm, open palm, the impact of it echoing throughout the living room, the only other noise that can be heard is the ticking of a clock, your gasp and Elvis’s heavy breathing. You inhale sharply at the sting of it, but it isn’t as terrible as you were expecting and it dissipates quickly. You let out the breath you’d been holding, if this is all it is you can handle it. All is quiet and still behind you, and you wonder if that’s it…until you feel him lean down to speak in your ear again.

“That was just a warm up, little girl, ain’t gonna go that easy on ya for the rest of ‘em,” he murmurs, and you hear the love in his stern voice as you try and process what he’s saying. The rest of them? That was going easy? You start to wiggle, trying to break free once again and realize the whimpering noise filling the room is coming from your mouth. Before you can get too worked up he swats you again, twice in quick succession, a little harder than before.

“Ow!” you yell, incensed by your situation, kicking your feet a little. “That hurt!” You spit out through gritted teeth, angry now. “Elvis Aaron Presley, you let me go this instant!” Your demands are met with an amused laugh, and you let out a frustrated growl, trying and failing to twist out of his grasp.

“I see I haven’t sorted you out yet, honey. Still got some of that brattiness left in ya that needs to be broken. Your choice, little girl.” Elvis lets a small laugh slip, his eyes on your body as he slowly and deliberately brings his hand down on your ass again. It’s strong and forceful, but not cruel. It leaves you breathless, speechless. Finally the stinging has permeated your skin and refuses to leave. It’s starting to be uncomfortable and you can tell that if he doesn’t quit soon you’re going to have a hard time sitting tomorrow.

“You’ve been petulant, rude, acting like a damn child all day. And that’s not the woman I know and love, the woman I married. No wife of mine is gonna act that like that and get away with it - not to my friends, not to my father, and especially not to me. Do you understand?” His hand gently cups you as he lectures, rubbing softly over what must be your quickly reddening ass. You hiss and grip the the pillow in front of you. “Answer me, girl. Do you understand?”

You’re not done pouting…if he thinks he can break you, sort you out, punish you - let him try. You stay willfully silent, refusing to speak. You hear him sigh as he removes his hand from you and you brace yourself for another round.

“Have it your way, darlin’…I’m gonna give you six more and if you’re still in a state, then we’re gonna have to have a serious talk, you and me," Elvis says, suddenly quiet and solemn and your heart drops in your chest. Maybe this isn’t some game he’s playing? You didn’t realize it was as important as he’s now letting on. You know you were a total bitch today and you do regret your words and actions… You cry out as he spanks you again without warning, his palm landing with more force than he’s given you so far. He continues and the spanking is relentless, but there's also something almost hypnotic about it. It feels like his hand is on your skin forever, but before you know it, it's almost over. And unexpectedly you realize the last couple of swats have sent lightening straight to your core, your nipples are tight buds rubbing deliciously against the coarse fabric of the chair through your thin dress and you’re surprised to feel slickness gathering on your thighs. You don’t know when your cries turned to breathy moans but he stops abruptly as he hears you, still two spankings left to give.

You’re breathing heavily, still clutching the decorative pillow adorning the chair as you clench around nothing, surprising yourself and Elvis as an obscene squelching noise echoes across the now quiet living room. You let out a breathless laugh, flushing a deep red, thankful he can’t see the embarrassment written across your face. You feel Elvis laughing silently as well, quiet little snorts as he tries and fails to keep from giggling.

“Well now, this is a development I wasn’t expecting,” he murmurs in your ear, leaning over you, his warm breath floating across your cheek. You turn your face towards his, your glassy eyes trying to focus on him as you blink slowly. “Now that it seems I’ve sorted you out, what kind of daddy would I be if I didn’t also take care of my baby?” His right hand squeezes your bottom lightly as his left arm finally releases you and his hand slips underneath your hips, his long, cool fingers gently sliding up your soaking folds. Your breath hitches at his touch, letting out a whimper as he reaches your aching clit, circling it deftly with calloused fingers, once, twice, before dipping two of them into your wet heat.

“Goddamn, mama, so needy for me? Maybe I oughta spank ya more often,” he says breathlessly, his voice taut with desire. You know your husband well - it’s the way he sounds when his cock is hard and straining against his pants, aching to be set free. He’s probably already starting to leak, you think dimly, and the thought has you fluttering around him.

“Oh…” you manage to breathe out as he starts to pump his fingers into you agonizingly slow, his thumb finding your clit and applying light pressure. You rock your hips, already so close to the edge you can almost taste it. His right hand smacks your ass hard and you jolt forward, the feeling of his fingers inside you and his punishing hand on your backside has you starting to whine, unable to stop. He speeds up the movement of his hand, curling his digits just so into that sensitive and spongy part of you just as he delivers the final slap to your ass that has you clenching tightly around his fingers nestled inside you, coming harder than you have in a while, your high-pitched whine turning silent as you stop breathing for a moment. He groans above you and you feel him shaking slightly as he bends over your body - you know it’s taking everything in him to hold it together. After a few moments, he slowly releases you, helping you stand and your legs immediately buckle underneath you. Elvis grabs you under your arms to try and keep you from falling but you’re both so weak with spent energy and desire - yours fulfilled, his aching - that you both tumble to the ground in a heap.

"There. All sorted out, sweetheart?" Elvis smiles down at you as your head rests against his shoulder, his arm encircling your waist. His voice is rough but tender as he smoothes the hair back from your face. "How did daddy do?" he asks, a smirk pulling his lush lips up into a lopsided grin. You blink dazedly, trying to form a coherent thought.

“Daddy?” you finally say, rolling the unfamiliar word around on your tongue. “Hmm, I could get used to that, I think.” You smile softly as your hand reaches up to cup his face, your thumb brushing the scratchy stubble across his jaw as your eyes turn serious. “I am sorry, Elvis. For all of it,” you whisper, blinking back tears.

“Shh, little one, I know,” he says, kissing your forehead softly and pulling you closer into himself, cradling you on his chest as your hand nestles in his chest hair, right above his heart that beats only for you.

And at book club the next day, when you’re settled on a mountain of pillows, no one even bats an eye.

-

Tags - I don’t have a general tag list so I’m just tagging some lovies who have enjoyed my previous fics: @jelliedonut @elvisabutler @precious-little-scoundrel @butlersxbirdy @missmaywemeetagain @headfullofpresley @powerofelvis @notstefaniepresley @amydarcimarie @prompted-wordsmith @dkayfixates @sillybookmarks @melancholicbutterflies @thatbanditqueen @eliseinmemphis @godlypresley @ccab @richardslady121 @rjmartin11 @claire-elvisgirl @literally-just-elvis-fics

[nova-is-a-writer-now]

Hidden embers

Chapter 3

Chapter summary: Joel needs help with his yard, you need help with figuring your feelings out

A/N: Im so excited you guys have been liking this!! last chapter was a good one, but this is my favorite so far. I also started a tag list so if y’all want to be part of that comment down here <3 Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: No outbreak AU, Age gap, DBF!Joel, Mean!Joel if you squint, some accidental physical contact lol, sexual tension but no smut

Series masterlist

“You can’t spend your whole summer doing nothing. You should really find something productive to do while you’re back home.”

Four years of college, every summer break, and most holidays spent working to cover tuition and other expenses—a lifetime of never catching a break until now—and that’s what your mother tells you after just two weeks of "doing nothing"?

You knew this was coming. It was only a matter of time before she decided to insert herself into your life and dictate your every move. It’s nothing you haven’t dealt with before. “I’ve been helping out around the house,” you say, trying to sound casual.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, “that’s not what I meant. You can’t be locked up in here all day. People will think you’re wasting your life away. I’ve been asking around at the town’s pageant commission, and they would be absolutely delighted to have you around to help us organize this year’s Teen Country Queen Pageant.”

There it was. Nothing your mother did was ever for anyone’s interests other than herself. If she had no interest in parading you around her pageant organizer friends, you were absolutely sure she couldn’t care less what you did with your days.

Right on cue, just before you’re about to give her a piece of your mind, your dad walks in. “What’s the long face for?”

“Oh, Hank, great! You can back me up here. I was telling her she needs to find something to do with her days. All this lazing around can’t be good for her. My friends at the—”

“Actually, I was thinking the exact same thing,” your dad says, surprising both of you.

“Really?” you ask incredulously. For all his flaws, your dad has never been one to meddle in your affairs.

“Yeah, Joel has been complaining about his front and back yard looking like shit since Cindy left.”

“Hank! Language!” your mom’s voice rises to that ear-shattering pitch she uses when she’s trying to be stern.

“Sorry, looking terrible since Cindy left,” your dad corrects himself, laughing it off. Sometimes he forgets he can only be that relaxed when he’s alone with you; your mom is a whole different ballgame.

“Um… Cindy?” you ask, drawing a blank on the name.

“The ex-wife. That’s not the point, kiddo. The point is he’s been whining about it for the longest time but is always too lazy to figure out gardening by himself. Then I remembered you were in the gardening club back in high school. It’d be nice of you to offer him some help. Poor man doesn't know how to keep a cactus alive.”

“Dad, that was ages ago. I don’t know if I remember much of it anyway. I only joined for my college applications,” you retort.

“It’s just a few plants and flowers here and there. How hard can it be? He even said he bought everything he should need for it but never got ‘round to actually doing it, so it’s all laid out for ya.”

Your choices were clear: spend however long it took to finish Joel’s yard while pretending you don’t have a massive crush on your dad’s best friend, or run around town with your mom organizing a beauty pageant. The decision wasn’t hard at all.

“I’ll go over and check it out.”

The walk to Joel’s house should’ve been short—barely a five-minute stroll up the road—but a nasty crack in the pavement had other plans. You were so lost in your thoughts today that you missed it entirely, stepping right into the trap.

Alright, maybe it wasn’t just today. You’ve been in your head ever since you first saw Joel standing at the bottom of your stairs. The way his hands had gripped your arms, steadying you, had left an imprint that you couldn’t seem to shake. And now, here you were, back in that same position, your mind consumed by this man who seemed to be as bad for your sanity as he was for your attention span.

So what should’ve been a walk up the road turned into a drawn-out pause as you sat on the sidewalk, waiting for the sharp pain in your twisted ankle to dull.

About ten minutes later, you finally make it to Joel’s lawn. You brace yourself to climb his porch stairs, pretending your ankle wasn’t bothering you, when you notice his garage door open. You hadn’t seen him from your previous angle, but as you got closer, the view of Joel's back muscles came into frame. And what a view that was. He was leaning over his truck, completely absorbed on whatever needed fixing under that hood.

For a moment, you just stand there, staring at the way his shirt clings to the sweat glistening on his skin. It takes a few seconds to remember that it isn’t socially acceptable to ogle someone from their front lawn, so you clear your throat and take a few more steps toward him.

“Hey” he greeted you, looking up from his work.

“Hey, yourself” you say back, playing it as cool as you could. It wasn’t a particularly hot day, but Joel's face glisten with sweat, as do his arms and you don’t not even want to think about what’s going on under that t-shirt.

“Come to pay me a visit?” he asked with a smirk

“My dad didn’t tell you? I’m your gardener for the day… or however long it takes to make your front lawn and back yard pretty.”

Joel’s response is a breathy laugh, followed by him dropping his head between his forearms resting on the truck.“My gardener, huh?” he finally brings his eyes back up to meet yours. “Your daddy don’t know how to mind his own business, do he, sweetheart?”

Let’s unpack that. This motherfucker didn’t just throw in a new pet name you’d be replaying in your mind at any random moment of the day, but he also said it in that tone he seems to reserve only for you—or so you hoped, at least.

And that other word coming from his lips… you were aware people in the south used it more casually, without the connotation it had in your mind, but the way it sounded coming from him…

Oh, it made you think of a million ways Joel Miller could say the word Daddy in plenty of different contexts.

You quickly drop your gaze, hoping to hide the intense blush creeping up your cheeks. “I uh… I’m afraid not.”

The sound of his boots on the garage floor pulls you back to reality as he steps closer. “You don’t gotta do this, y’know?” His tone shifts, becoming more serious. “It’s no big deal, I’ll get to this mess eventually.”

You look up at him once again, more desperate than you’d like to admit. “Joel, I’ve been cooped up in my house with my mother and her pageant friends for weeks now. Please, give me an excuse to be anywhere else.”

A chuckle. You could live for those, make it your entire profession to earn them. You really need to calm the fuck down and get a grip if you were to spend the entire day around this man.

“Alright, then. If it’ll make you happy, I’m not gonna say no” says before turning back into the garage. He returns with a small crate filled with gardening tools and a few potted plants, setting them down on the grass. “Got most of what you’ll need here. Not much, but it’s a start.” His gaze drops to your ankle. “You doin’ alright? You’re limping.”

You wave off his concern, not wanting to admit just how much your ankle is actually bothering you. “It’s nothing, just a little misstep on my way here . I’m fine, really.” You flash him a smile you hope is convincing enough.

Joel studies you for a moment longer, then nods. “Alright, but if it gets to be too much, you let me know, okay? Last thing I need is you hurtin’ yourself on my account.”

“Deal,” you lie. There’s no way in hell you’re backing out of this now.

He gestures toward the mess of overgrown grass, weeds, and flower beds that haven’t seen attention in who knows how long. “I guess that’s the worst of it. Clearing out the weeds should leave enough space for these plants. Don’t overthink it, I trust your instincts.”

You take your first good look at the pots he brought from the back of the garage. “Oh, daisies! They’re my favorite.” You glance up at him, sweetness lacing your tone.

He pauses, something unreadable passing over his face. “ ‘Course they are.” He says, the corners of his mouth tugging up a bit. “Well, let me know if you need anything else. I'll be working over there.”

With Joel back under the hood, you set to work on the lawn. Despite the dull throb in your ankle, you find a steady rhythm in the repetitive motions—pulling out stubborn roots, digging small holes for the flowers, and patting down the soil around them. It’s oddly satisfying, watching the neglected garden start to come to life under your hands. You’ve always had a knack for taking rugged things and making them pretty.

Every so often, you glance over at Joel, who’s completely engrossed in whatever he’s tinkering with under the hood. The way his muscles flex as he works, the concentration etched on his face and how it makes him look a lot more serious than he ever is when talking to you—it’s hard to not get distracted.

There’s something about him, something that pulls you in despite your better judgment, despite every self-preservation instinct in you. Maybe it’s the way he makes you feel grounded, even when your mind is spinning out of control. It’s such a foreign concept for you, you’ve always been the one who has to defuse tensions, be the bigger person, manage the chaos. It’s never like that with Joel.

You’re careful to keep your ankle steady, not wanting to give Joel any more reason to worry. But as the hours pass and the sun climbs higher, you can feel the strain starting to build. Ever the overachiever, you push through it, there isn’t much left to get done in the front lawn anyway.

By the time you’ve planted the last of the daisies, you’re more than a little proud of yourself. There are still a few bare spots here and there and a handful of marigold pots waiting to be planted, but the lawn is starting to look less like a jungle and more like somewhere you’d actually want to spend time in. You wipe your brow, satisfied.

Joel must’ve noticed you slowing down because he calls out from where he’s working, “How’re you holding up? You thirsty?”

You hadn’t realized how parched you were until he mentioned it. “Yeah, a drink sounds good.”

Joel gives you a quick once-over, his eyes lingering on your ankle for a moment longer than you’d like. But he doesn’t say anything as he leads the way into the house, holding the door open for you.

The cool air inside is a welcome relief from the midday sun, and you sigh as you step into the kitchen. Joel pulls a couple of glasses from the cupboard and fills them with ice water, handing one to you. You take a sip, feeling the cold liquid soothe your dry throat.

You lean against the counter, trying to take some weight off your bad ankle. But as soon as you shift your weight, a sharp pain shoots up your leg, and you can’t hold back the small whine that escapes your lips.

Joel’s eyes snap to yours, his brow furrowing with concern. “You sure you’re alright?”

“Yes, Joel. I’m fine,” you insist, even though you know you’re not fooling him. “It’s just—”

“ ‘S that why you’re whining every time you put weight on it?”

“It’s just a bit sore. Don’t—”

Before you can finish, Joel’s on you in a flash, closing the distance between you. He’s careful but firm as he lifts you effortlessly, setting you down on the kitchen counter. “Let me see.”

“Joel, really, it’s not a big deal,” you start to protest, but the look he gives you silences any argument you might have had.

“Humor me,” he says, his voice low and steady. There’s a note of authority there that makes your heart race. There’s no disobeying him when he uses that tone.

You sigh dramatically, letting him gently take your injured ankle in his hands. His touch is warm, and the way his fingers graze your skin sends shivers down your spine. He inspects your ankle with a seriousness that makes your heart flutter, his brows knitted in concentration.

“This is more than a ‘little misstep,’” he looks back up, his eyes stern and serious. He slowly drops your leg, turning back to reach into the freezer and pull out a pack of frozen peas. He presses it against your ankle, holding it there with one hand while his other hand lingers on your calf.

It doesn’t take long for his thumb to start brushing up and down in a way that feels more comforting than it should. He starts adding a little pressure to his touch, the lingering touch from before turning into a massage up and down your calf.

Your breath catches as you look down at him, the way he’s so focused on taking care of you. The tenderness in his touch is at odds with the roughness of his hands, and the combination is making it hard to think straight. It’s even harder to keep the little sounds his touch arises in you contained, some of them escaping out of your parted lips despite your best efforts.

“Joel,” you start, your voice softer now, almost hesitant.

He looks up at you, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken. His hand is still on your leg, his face overtaken by a dark expression you hadn’t seen on him until now.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. The air between you feels charged, like something unspoken is hovering just out of reach. You can feel it in the way his grip on your leg tightens ever so slightly, in the way his breathing seems to sync with yours.

And then, as if realizing where his hand is, Joel slowly pulls back. “I should get you back home, let you rest that ankle.”

You frown slightly, the way he spoke such a stark contrast to the tenderness of his touch still lingering on your leg. “I’m alright. I’m gonna have to be kneeling down for most of what’s left anyways, so I won’t be putting any weight on it.”

“No, it’s best if you just go. I’ll sort the lawn out later.”

The words hit you like a bucket of cold water. You’re left staring at him, confused by the sudden shift in his demeanor. Normally, your pride would keep you from asking, but something about Joel makes it impossible to let this go. “Did I… do something wrong?”

Joel pauses, his eyes softening for a split second before his expression hardens again. “No, you're fine. Thank you for your help, but I’m taking you home.”

He doesn’t leave room for discussion as he brushes past you, heading into the living room to grab his truck keys. Your chest tightens, the shame of the moment crashing down on you all at once.

Except… you didn’t do anything wrong. You weren’t the one who was running her hands up and down his body, or pulling him close and throwing him on the counter like it was nothing. He did all that. He made you feel like something more was happening, and now he’s treating you like some desperate girl who threw herself at him, needing to be ushered out of his house as quickly as possible.

The ache in your heart is quickly overshadowed by a fiery rage, building more and more with each passing second. You turn sharply in the kitchen, your mind made up as you march toward the open door leading to the garage.

“Don’t bother,” you snap, your voice cutting through the silence as you head for the exit.

“What?” Joel turns around just in time to see you storming out.

You don’t even answer him, your steps quickening even as pain shoots up your leg with every movement.

“The hell are you doin’? You can’t walk home with that busted ankle,” he calls after you, his tone much harsher than it was just moments ago.

You laugh bitterly, not bothering to look back. This man clearly doesn’t know you and your stubborn ass well enough yet. “Oh, I’ll fucking live.”

Without another word, you push through the pain, taking it one torturous step at a time. Each step feels like defiance, a middle finger to your own pride and to Joel’s sudden coldness. But it’s better this way—better to feel the sharp sting in your ankle than the dull ache in your heart. The whole way home, you curse yourself for being so goddamn stubborn, even as the fiery rage keeps you moving forward.

Tag list:

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog , @untamedheart81 , @mellymbee

[aemondapologistfrfr]

Forbidden Flames

benjicot blackwood x strong!fem!reader//

oc!arryn!targ!male x strong!fem!reader

Summary: You take after your mother in more ways than one and the current Queen Alicent has no problem telling you that she’s aware. 

Warnings: 18+ swearing, infidelity, oral(f), p in v, birth but nothing too descriptive, time jumps

Authors Note: a request from @chainsawsangel that I sat on for a while 😣😭 no interaction with the oc tbh 

Word Count: 3.7k

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

I knew from a young age that I wouldn’t have much of a choice over anything in my life. Shortly after my first word I was betrothed to someone who I’ve never even met. I’ve been paraded around meetings with my mother on a daily basis and was told to sit there and listen. The only reprieve I had was when she would invite all of her allies to court and I could interact with their children. 

The first time I met him I begged my mom to never invite the Blackwoods back to court again. He had a dirty mouth and would talk about such violence against his rival house. The second time he visited we were both a couple years older and caught each other’s eye. His dirty mouth would whisper into my ear until I turned into a blushing mess and then leave me in the halls to trail after him. As the years went by we truly fell for one another. We began to come up with excuses for him to come to court at least once a moon and would send dozens of ravens in between the visits. 

Once my betrothed arrived to court we had to become a little more sly but we couldn’t give each other up. He is the only thing I’ve ever chosen for myself and I’m not getting rid of him. I’ve come to terms with my sin because after all I’m the fruit of such sin. It was no surprise to me when my first babe came out with a head full of dark brown hair. 

My husband didn’t think twice about it and kept on his day. Jasper Arryn has always been sweet to me but we never really emotionally connected in the way we needed to. He is my mother’s youngest uncle and bears the silver hair of a Targaryen. He’s handsome I’ll admit, but he’s just not my Benji. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

One year after first born

I fix my gown smoothing it down and brushing back my hair. I walk over to my babbling baby and pinch his cheeks and tickle his tummy. I scoop him up into my arms as he continues to laugh as I fly him around the room in my arms. His baby dragon runs at our feet softly chirping. I dip down so my son can play with his dragon before sweeping us out of our chambers. 

“Someone special is here to visit you for your name day.” I coo kissing at his neck and we start down the stairs. As we walk people dip their heads to us and offer us warm greetings. We step out into the afternoon sun and I gaze around the yard. 

“Princess Y/n, I’m absolutely delighted to have run into you.” his voice sends butterflies into my stomach as I turn and a smile spreads across his face. 

“Benjicot.” I hum walking closer. 

“Happy early name day, my Prince.” his voice drops lower and he looks to our son. “You look very healthy, Aelor.” he brushes the babes hair back and Aelor coos grabbing his finger. 

“Come to my chambers.” I whisper. 

“Jasper?” he tilts his head. 

“Off on the hunt already.” I nod turning to head back into the Keep. I make my way around the main floor and take a back we to my chambers so I’m seen around and away from the courtyard. I slip back into my chambers and bounce Aelor on my hip as I wait for Benji. Three knocks and he’s slipping inside and walking over to us with a smile. 

“He’s a man grown now.” he scoops Aelor out of my hands and holds him in his. “I hope you’re not giving your mom too much trouble.” he tickles his neck as Aelor begins to squeal. His dragon uncurls and runs over to us flapping his wings as Aelor keeps laughing. We all sit on the ground together playing with his blocks and toys as my heart swells. 

“I’ve missed you dearly.” I look to him with love. 

“I wish we didn’t have to be apart.” he sighs looking at our son. 

“Me too.” I look to him with longing. 

“I don’t want to miss him growing up. That’s my boy.” he looks to Aelor with watery eyes. 

“I want to have another.” he head snaps back over to me. 

“Do not jest.” his tone low. 

“I’ll be right back.” I hum scooping up Aelor and his dragon follows us out of our chambers. I ask my maid to care for him while I rest and the dragon keepers come and retrieve his dragon. I slip back into my chambers and Benji is pulling me against him quickly. 

“Do you mean it?” he looks down to me. 

“I want to have another child with you, Benji. Aelor should have someone to grow up with.” I gasp as he kisses me fiercely. 

“I will give you as many as you desire, my love.” he kisses down my jaw pulling the laces of my dress loose. He has me free of all of my clothes in between heated kisses. I pull his tunic off and sigh as his heated skin touches mine. He lays me back on the bed before burying his head between my thighs. 

“Gods Benji,” I cry out pushing myself onto his face. He swirls around my bud while pushing his fingers into me. My hips jerk against his face as my high builds. I pull against his hair while he uses his free hand to hold me still while he laps against me. My legs close around him as I come undone pulling him up my body. 

“I’ll make sure I give you another babe.” he grunts pushing into me. I whine as he slowly dips in and out. 

“Benji,” I pant. “Faster, please,” my voice breaks as he begins to snap his hips into me. 

“This better for you, Princess?” he taunts as he pounds into me. I shake with pleasure every time he brushes against my throbbing bud. He dips down to my neck to kiss and lick while I arch into him. “Taking me so good.” he grunts and I come undone around him. He continues to trust into me at a face pace and I’m whimpering below him as my pleasure threatens to spill over again. 

“Benji, I-“ I cry out as my pleasure slams through me and I stills filling me with my name on his tongue. 

“Fuck,” he pants resting his forehead on mine. He rolls his hips into mine and a broken moan falls from my lips. “I can’t wait to see you growing with our child again.” he continues to rock into me until he hardens again. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Six months later 

I wait in my chambers propped up on pillows playing with Aelor on the ground. I’ve sent Benji instruction on how to get to my chambers unnoticed and we’re awaiting him patiently. I hear soft knocks on the door and Benji enters closing the doors behind him. 

“Look at you both.” he hums with a smile sitting on the ground with us. “How are you, my love?” he leans across and kisses me. 

“It’s going as smoothly as the first time.” I smile resting my hand on my bump. 

“I’m glad to hear.” he rests his hand on top of mine. “I hope you’ve been a kind little prince.” he scoops Aelor up who giggles in his arms. 

“I want you to be with us.” my heart hurts looking at them. “Or us with you.” my voice breaks as I start to cry. 

“Let’s go to mommy.” Benji coos and they surround me with their embrace. “We have right now and I’m thankful of that.” he dries my tears. 

“I want us to be a family.” I hiccup as my tears start anew.

“Come on.” he helps me up and picks up Aelor. He walks us to the bed and we lay curled together. He brushes my hair back while Aelor sleeps between us. 

“We are a family. It’s just a little different but it’s ours.” he says softly. I grab his hand and place a kiss on it before bringing it to my bump. 

“I want our children to know you are their father. I want you to raise them.” my eyes search his. 

“I will make a plan and figure it out.” he nods to me, promise laced in his voice. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Birth

“One last push, Princess.” the midwife’s voice centers me. “We can see the babes head.” she nods smiling at me. My eyes screw shut as I give everything into this last push. 

“Excellent work,” the maesters calm voice is followed by a cry. I open my eyes and let out a breathy chuckle. “A boy.” he smiles wrapping him and handing him to me. 

“What will you name him?” my handmaiden beams above me. 

“Vaelon.” I hum holding him against me brushing back his dark wisps of hair.

“Congratulations, Princess.” Alicents voice confuses me as I look up. “I wanted to check on you and the babe. See if you need anything.” her tone condescending as he peaks over the blanket at the babe. “Hm.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” I hold my son away from her grasp. 

“Where might the father be?” she raises her eyebrows looking around. “Do be sure to let me know if you need anything.” she turns and stops when she spots the egg is the babes cradle. “It’s curious how those seem to hatch.” her words causing me to blink before she’s out of my chambers. 

“Can you find my mother?” I ask my handmaiden. 

“Of course,” she nods and is slipping out of the door quickly. 

“Help me up.” I nod to the midwife. 

“Princess, you should rest.” she tries to settle me back onto the bed. 

“I wish to bathe him.” I nod my head as another midwife grabs Vaelon so I can stand. My legs wobble as I hold my arms out for my babe once more. He coos in my arms as I slowly shuffle over to the basin. 

“My sweet girl,” my mother’s arms are wrapped around mine steadying me. “You should be abed.” she helps me start to clean off the babe. 

“I like to be the first one to bathe babe.” I hum my brain starting to cloud from the energy I exuded minutes ago. 

“I remember from Aelor.” I can hear the smile in her voice. “What is this little princes name?” she hums trickling water through his hair. 

“Vaelon.” I hum wiping at his face. 

“Where is Jasper?” her voice soft. 

“Probably off hunting.” I shrug not caring. I wrap Vaelon back up and walk him over to his cradle next to my bed. I place him on the small bed and his limbs fan out and he has a little hand outstretched to the egg. 

“Let’s get you back into bed.“ she hums helping me lay back. I sigh as my back meets the soft mattress. She grabs a clean cloth and wets it before coming back to me. She wipes at my face and brushes my hair back. She dismisses the midwives and maester before she crawls into bed with me. 

“Thank you, mother.” I hum as she continues to brush my hair back. “Alicent was here the second the babe came.” my voice distant as I close my eyes. 

“What on earth for?” she tries to calm her voice but I can hear the anger. 

“To call my son a bastard and basically say I’m wasting dragon eggs.” she continues to brush my hair back. “I’m sorry, mother. I tried to love Jasper.” my voice breaks as I feel tears pour down my face. 

“Shh, shh,” she hums scooting closer to me. “You and your babes are healthy. That’s all I care about. Rest.” she continues to whisper soothing words to me as I drift off. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Four months after Vaelons birth 

I stroll through the gardens alone soaking in the sun and the life around me. The birds sing sweet songs as I stop and smell the flowers. As I turn the corner my handmaiden comes rushing over to me and I begin to panic that something has happened. 

“Princess,” she stops in front of me out of breath. “Vaelons egg is hatching.” a smile splits across my face as we race back into the Keep. 

“Mommy,” Aelor whines and wobbles over to me. I scoop him up and we walk to Vaelon in his cradle watching the egg be pushed open from the inside. A sky blue dragon pops its head out and squirms the rest of the way out softly chirping. It looks to Vaelon before curling up at his side. I bounce Aelor on my hip as we watch them both sleep below us. 

“I’ll go fetch the dragon keepers.” my handmaiden says and I nod pulling a chair to the side of the cradle to watch them. The dragon keepers come in and congratulate me and Vaelon. They look over the dragon and nod happily at his health. 

“I wish to have time with my sons.” I say softly dismissing everyone. After about ten minutes my heart starts to flutter at who should be walking through my doors. 

“Daddy.” Aelor cries wiggling out of my arms as Benji enters. 

“Hello my little Prince.” he grabs him and tosses him in the air as Aelor giggles and squeals. “Where is my littlest Prince?” he hums gliding over to me and the cradle. 

“He’s asleep.” I hum looking up at him. Benji dips down and places a soft kiss on my lips before rising to look down at Vaelon again. 

“His egg hatched.” he looks to me with a wide smile. 

“Just a bit ago.” I nod my head biting my lip. He sets Aelor on the ground who goes to play as we admire our youngest. 

“Daddy’s so proud of you.” his words soft as he brushes against Vaelons hair. He stirs in his crib and turns to curl up with his dragon. 

“I think we should talk with my mother.” I smile looking up at Benji. 

“About what, my love?” he kneels next to me looking up at me with adoration. 

“She can make it so we can be together. I don’t care what people say about me. They already say it so I might as well get to have you all the time.” I brush his hair back as he smiles. 

“Shall I go get her?” he grabs my hand and places it in his kissing it softly. 

“No stay.” I hold his hand against me. “I’ll send my handmaiden. I poke my head out the door  and ask my guard to have my handmaiden fetch my mother and we wait in my chambers playing with Aelor. 

“Yes, my sweet girl?” my mother sweeps into my chambers and stops when she sees Benji. “I’m sorry, I thought-“ she goes to turn back to the door with red cheeks. 

“Mother wait.” I reach out. “We wanted to talk to you.” I look at her with pleading eyes. 

“What can I do for you both?” she hums taking a seat on the ground with us and Aelor crawls into her lap. 

“I want to be with Benji.” my words hushed as I nibble my lip. “I want to be happy. I want us to be a family.” I feel myself tear up as she looks to me. 

“Just give me some time and I will figure it out.” she nods to me and begins to play with Aelor. 

“Thank you.” I grab her hand. “Vaelons egg hatched today.” she looks up to me with a wide smile. 

“Let’s see.” she starts to get up and I lead her over to the cradle. “Look at them.” she coos turning to me with watery eyes. 

“His colors are so vibrant.” I run a finger down the dragons scales. 

“I’m proud of you.” she hums pulling me into a hug. “Give me some time and I promise you that you will all be together.” she whispers smoothing my hair. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Two months later

I sit in the council chambers as everyone stares at me once more. I’m getting flashbacks to my childhood of meetings except this time I don’t care about the whispers. I look to my mother hopeful as she rises from her chair. 

“Jasper never returned from the Kings Wood last week. Our hunts for him bore no information. At this point we can only assume the worst.” the members look to me as tears stream down my face but little do they know that they’re tears of happiness that I can finally peruse Benji. 

I have no idea where or what happened to Jasper. My mother saw to his disappearance and told me not to worry about it. Once the meeting ends I sweep out of the council chambers and seal myself in my chambers as I await Benjis arrival. I sit on the ground with my children smiling at them. Aelor brings Vaelon toys and shows him how to play and it warms my heart to see my boys so close. 

“Daughter?” my mothers voice carries through my doors. 

“Come.” I hum and she enters and Benji is close behind her. 

“Benji.” I smile and he comes and sits on the ground with us.

“Just give me one more moon and then we will announce your courtship.” she looks down at us lovingly. 

“Thank you, for everything.” I look up at her with watery eyes. 

“Of course.” she nods her head. “I’ll let you guys have some time.” she hums filtering out of my chambers. 

“How are you?” Benji pulls me against him. 

“So happy. Everything is finally working out for us.” I pull his lips against mine. 

“Do you want for me to move here?” he whispers against my lips. 

“I would be content if we moved a bit away from Kings Landing and lived on a farm. Our dragons can offer us protection and you can hunt with them. While I stay home and raise our babes and cook us dinner..” I hum trailing off. 

“You seem to have it all planned out.” he smiles scooping up Vaelon and Aelor climbs into my lap. 

“We can have some more children.” I brush Aelors hair back as he tries to wiggle back over to Benji. 

“That sounds like an absolute dream.” his eyes darken. “It was always my biggest regret that I wasn’t with you when you carried them.” he bites his cheek. 

“I don’t know. I got pretty demanding.” I giggle and he shakes his head. 

“Then I’ll meet every single one of your demands. Happily.” he hums.

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Six months after Jaspers ‘disappearance’

I’m sitting in an open field as my sons giggle and play together. I lay back and soak in the sun as our three dragons fly above us dipping and chirping in the breeze. Benji is tending to our animals and I wait for him to join us with a smile on my face. 

“How are you, my beautiful wife?” he hums laying next to me spreading his hands across my growing bump. 

“Content. Loved. In love.” I look to him with a smile. 

“Do you think we’ll have another boy?” he hums laying us back in the grass. 

“I’m hoping for a girl.” I giggle as he peppers kisses across my face. 

“Gods, we’ll have a miniature version of you running around keeping our boys in line.” he rolls onto his side resting his hand on my bump once more. “You’re absolutely radiant.” his words soft. 

“My mother sent a letter saying she’ll fly in at the end of the week with an egg for her.” I looking up once more watching our dragons circle us. 

“Do you have a name in mind for our daughter?” he chuckles holding me closer to him. 

“I have a couple but I’ll have to meet her first.” I brush his hair back. “Incoming.” I whisper too late as our sons jump on Benji.

“How are my little princes today?” he rolls over with them and showers them with affection. 

“Good,” Aelor wiggles out of his grasp before running through the grass. Benji scoops up Vaelon and chases after Aelor as he giggles wildly.

I slowly get up and make my way back into the house to begin preparing for dinner. I softly hum to myself as I chop up the different ingredients and push them into an iron pot. I hear them before they even bound through the front door. 

“You can’t catch me, daddy.” Aelor sprints through the front door and hides behind me. Benji ducks through the door with Vaelon on his shoulders and hunts around the house. 

“Seems as if your brother is missing.” Benji says to Vaelon as Aelor giggles from behind of me. “Did you hear that?” he whispers stalking around the table. 

“Behind mommy.” Vaelon points and Aelor lets out a squeal and runs back out the front door with them trailing after him. 

I finish cooking with a smile on my face. I call them inside and they come running and sit around the table. This is our daily routine and I genuinely couldn’t be more content. The rest of the night we settle down together and read our boys bedtime stories before their little eyes shut for the night. 

“Come,” he helps me up from the chair. “I wish to look at the stars with you.” he hums taking me down the stairs. 

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

masterlist 🔌 

taglist ✍️

@clarityisnofun @gabriella-aesthetic @callsignwidow @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @thatgirl101blog @ashovertheriver @zanygot7straykidsbonk @hueanhdang @malfoycassimalfoy @april-notthemonth69 @anaviieiraaa @p45510n4f4shi0n @neocockthotology @thereaderwitch @hardkiddonut @faenyra

[sideysvault]

⋆˚࿔ Bedroom Lust with Roman Roy 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Pairing: Roman Roy x wife!reader

+18 head cannons.

Warnings: Minors DNI. Explicit content

────────

- Marrying Roman Roy involved being his plus one to numerous events. Evening galas, fundraisers, openings and birthday parties of people you didn't even remember meeting. He hated all of it. But seeing the wind biting the skin exposed by your countless party dresses almost made up for it. He still got goosebumps when he saw you.

- He was extremely aware of how his wife looked. Too bright, too beautiful for a room full of snakes parading as business people. He was proud of you. Proud of your cleverness, and your looks, and your morals. He enjoyed parading you around at parties with his hand on your lower back. A lot of heads turned, and eyes that trailed downward, but you were his. Only his.

- She was always complaining about his beard. And, as much as he liked it, the conversation ended when you said “I hate it Romes, it tickles when you go down on me” That was all he needed to hear. The very next day, he showed up with a clean, freshly shaven face. You made sure to make it up to him and sat on his face all night.

- You are always using pet names for him. Especially in the bedroom. You want to make him feel as much love as he deserves. At the beginning of your relationship, he wasn’t very sexual. It took a long time, trust, and patience to get to where you were right now. But you didn't mind. All you wanted was for him to enjoy himself while feeling safe and secure. And so it began. Love, Remy, Romey, Babe, Sweetie…

- Stamina wasn’t a problem anymore. Roman particularly enjoyed eating you out. He just wanted to shower you with affection and thank you for being such a good wife. The man loves eating your pussy. If the cooks are not at home, he'll do it on the kitchen counter over breakfast. He makes time and takes a shower together just so he can have you standing up while he's on his knees licking all of you. He loves when you cum all over his face. No matter how dirty and wet he gets afterwards.

- Having power over you is also a turn on. He’d tie you up so you can’t move, not letting you cum, edging you until you beg and cry. He has even dwell in some consensual somnophilia with you.

- But he can be romantic too. Roman will buy you the most expensive lingerie and leave it all around the house for you to find. He would kiss every inch of you. Your face, your stomach, your legs, everything. As lovingly as he can.

- As much as Roman Roy knows he would be an awful father, it is hard to remember it when he is pounding into his wife’s wet pussy. He adores watching his cum fill you up, and you adore the sensation of it overflowing out of your pussy. (He definitely licks you clean after it).

- He loved how easily you teared up. You were so sensitive. When he is done with you, the makeup that adorned your pretty face always looks smudged.

- Sometimes, in another one of your fancy dinners, you make sure to wear one of his favorite dresses with nothing underneath. Opening your legs under the table for him to enjoy. From time to time, you wore a vibrator in public events. Roman loves seeing you try to compose yourself in front of everyone. How red your face gets. How raspy are the words that come out of your mumbling mouth. If you behave well enough, he goes on his knees yet again and rewards you at the venue’s bathroom.

Notes: Hello Anon! I really tried with this one! It’s my first time writing any type of smut. Hope you enjoyed it. It ended up being something a bit different from what you asked. But thank you so much for taking time to read my Roman posts. I’ve been missing the succession fandom so much. Take care! - Sidey xoox

Based on this request.

[tojisun]

sorry was just going through your blog again because I’ve missed out for a while and YOUR DBF BIKER SIMON? DARING TO SAY “ERIN”? TO HAVE A PRETTY ROCK A DIAMOND IN A BOX TO MAKE UP FOR IT? MY HEART CANNOT TSKE IT IVE BEEN CRUING

(This is so well written it’s making my heart hurt in a way it hasn’t since I was last on your blog for Toji)

I know simon’s toxic in this I know that but I can’t help the part of me that yearns for a happy ending, you’re writing just drives such a familiar nail in my heart

YERP!! dbf!simon knows he can fuck up however because he can just buy whatever expensive thing u want and thinks that that makes up for it :/

at first it was enough. at first, when simon showered you with couture and diamonds and expensive vacation tickets as apology, it had been enough. it was enough because simon has never hurt you the way he did when he called you erin.

see, you're used to being replaced with other dates. you're used to watching from across the room as simon paraded around with a pretty person by his side because you know, no matter how twisted it is, that simon will come back to you - all pawing hands and pretty words slipping from his lips, praising you as the only one that could truly matter to him. telling you how you're the only one special enough to meet his friends - the other ones; the ones who eyed you with thick interest in their eyes.

but then erin came around. pretty and kind and smart erin came around. simon pampered her the most. cherished her the most. loved her the most. simon didn't even read your messages during the time he was with erin (he used to do so no matter who he's with); he never messaged you drunkenly, never left a voicemail saying how you're much better than his current dates. never hesitantly told you how he regrets not choosing you instead.

you were sidelined when he was with erin. so when he called her name while taking you. when he moaned her name even though they've been broken up for months then. well, and it is silly that you only realized now, but no amount of apologies and pretty rocks could make up for it.

AND OMGGG YOUVE BEEN HERE SINCE HOW WE BREAK?? 🥺🥺 no because that one was so angsty even for me!! but ahhhHHJHHH i loved writing it sm!!!

and aww thank u sweetheart. i've been mulling over the idea that they will make up but. idk. i feel like it's his turn to be hurt this time - that said, i still have a lot more drafts of dbf simon being an asshole so its not like it'll actually conclude anytime soon aiuhfuwhfdh

[bunnylovesani]

Miss Congeniality

Chapter 1

Content warnings: suggestive and derogative language, reader being humiliated, mentions of panties and arousal

WC: 2.4k

You stared at the clock and huffed, it was 10 minutes past midnight. Your older brother Jaden and his best friend Anakin should’ve come home by now.

“Good night honey, don’t stay up too late, you need your beauty sleep for the pageant tomorrow!” your mother cooed as she walked past your door, peering into your admittedly childishly decorated bedroom.

You had turned 19 last month but still hadn’t gotten over your fixation for all things pink and frilly, your walls adored with posters of your favourite singers and your bedsheets decorated with petite lace bows on every corner. You wrapped your satin bedrobe tight around yourself as you got up and headed downstairs to the lounge, where you’d spent many nights staring at the door waiting for your favourite boys to come home from their escapades.

Your gaze settled on a large framed photo of you resting on the mantlepiece, wearing a pageant crown and smiling gracefully. Sure, you were mommy and daddy’s pride and joy, the most beautiful girl in the county and latest winner of the teen Miss Naboo competition, but you were bored. A whole lifetime of always being the good girl had taken its toll and left you with a feeling of discontenment and envy. You saw the way other girls had fun, sneaking out at night and going to parties with handsome boys- Anakin always had a crowd of women swarming him and you hated that you felt jealous at the attention he gave them.

You knew ultimately you were above all that, you knew that you were saving yourself for a worthy man, one who would appreciate the efforts you made to keep yourself pure. But sometimes, when you saw the veins snaking their way down Ani’s arms, with his black band tees rolled up to his muscular elbows and his plump lips playing with his tongue piercing, you feared you might not be able to hold back much longer. As if your thoughts summoned him, the door swung open and the raucous laughter of the boys filled the stately family home.

“Did you see the way that chick was giving me fuck-me eyes? She totally wants it, I’ve got half a mind to - oh. Sis, what are you doing still up?” Jaden’s face fell as he hung his coat up.

“I was just making myself a cup of cocoa, trying to soothe my nerves for the competition tomorrow.” You lied. You couldn’t care less about the pageant and you didn’t even really like cocoa. You just wanted to be there to catch a glimpse of your favourite emo boy.

“Oh yeah, forgot that shit was tomorrow. Do I still have to drive you?” Jaden rolled his eyes, he never did understand the appeal of being paraded around like a prized pig.

“No, I presumed you’d be too inebriated from the night before so I asked daddy already.” You happily chittered, unconsciously raising your nightie just a little so that your brother’s friend might catch a better glimpse of your freshly moisturised, strawberry scented thighs. He didn’t pay it any notice as per usual, not that it stopped you from trying.

“Ah you know me too well.” Jaden chuckled “Good luck with that, let’s go Anakin.”

“Wait, wait! How was your night? Did you guys have fun?” You pouted, big doe eyes staring at them in disappointment to have not been filled in on their nighttime adventures.

“Oh you don’t wanna hear about that sweetheart” Ani finally spoke, smirking. “Your brother is quite the Cassanova.”

“That’s enough of that, off to bed with you” Jaden interrupted him, motioning for you to leave before slipping into the kitchen to help himself to the pot of fresh cocoa you’d made.

“You know, you look really creepy when you’re sat there like that right in front of the door. At least turn on a lamp or some shit.” Anakin uttered harshly, making your cheeks burn up with embarassment.

“Um, I, I’m sorry? I’ll make sure the place is lit up like a christmas tree next time.” You muttered, staring at the ground and silently cursing your obedient nature. God, he had a way of making you feel small. The slight smirk that creeped up on his face made you suspect that he liked that.

“Now that I think about it, why is it that you happen to be in the living room every time I come through the door? Do you wanna hang out with us that bad?” Anakin sniggered in that signature cocky way only he knows how.

“Oh shut up, I have better things to do than to sit around smoking joints with 2 college dropouts.” You rolled your eyes, was it that obvious? Clearly you would have to find a better cover than drinking hot chocolate.

“Goddamn, this cocoa tastes like shit. Are you sure you didn’t make it with mud?!” Jaden emerged from the kitchen sipping from his mug and scowling, eliciting a cackle from Anakin. “Don’t ever try cooking sis, stick to looking pretty in dresses.” he tousled your hair as he walked past you and up the stairs to his room. Anakin gave you one last look, subtly dropping his glare down to your legs before smiling ever so slightly as he followed his friend. The second of eye contact made your heart pound with a worrying intensity and you had to calm your racing mind before the inappropriate thoughts started forming again.

It had been a week since the last time the boys hung out, and in this moment you wished it’d been longer as you sat in bed, enveloped in your pink fluffy blanket - huffing at the sounds of Anakin and Jaden howling with laughter next door. What could possibly be so funny that it induces such animalistic noise? Once the guffawing was so loud that you could no longer hear your movie over it, you resolutely climbed out of bed, slid your slippers on and marched over to your brother’s room across the hallway. As soon as you opened the door, the pungent smell of their sweet, earthy joint hit you.

“Ah, so that’s why you’re laughing so hard.” You cross your arms at the sight of them convulsing with giggles. “Can you cretins keep it down?”

“Apologies, are we disturbing your Barbie movie marathon?” A very dishevelled looking Jaden grinned. “Or are you watching Enchanted again? How many times have I told you, stop dreaming about Prince Charming, he’s not coming.” You furrow your brows, about to launch a tirade on your brother when Anakin interjects.

“Oh my God, what are those?” he points at your slippers. “Are you wearing fluffy pink bunnies on your feet? Seriously?” He covers his mouth with his hand to stop the giggles that threaten to burst through. You stare down at the dopey faces of the little bunnies sticking out of your shoes.

“No! I mean yes but these are old, mom bought them for me, they were just lying around and I’m kinda cold.” The excuses started flowing out as Anakin glared at you endearingly.

“Oh my God, why are you lying? They’re her favourite ones, she wears them every day.” Jaden sniggers and you wonder why you even tried to lie with your brother there.

“Aw, you don’t have to lie sweetie, I think it’s cute. Pretty little pageant princess in her pink slippers.” Anakin smiles and you’re unsure whether he’s mocking you.

Feeling mortified, you run out and slam your bedroom door closed- a resounding bang being heard as the bedrobe and nightie that hung on the back fell off the hook and spilled onto the floor. For their information, you were watching a documentary. You know he dismissed you as nothing other than his friend’s childish little sister, just a brat who couldn’t ever keep up with him- he was 4 years older than you after all.

But you’re not a little girl anymore. Sure, your favourite colour was pink and you pranced around on stage in ballgowns, but you were a woman now. You had come into your own this year and you saw the whole world differently. You had never usually paid any mind to the boys that circulated around the house with your brother- but now they piqued your interest immensely, one in particular. You’ll never forget the first day you really noticed him.

It was last winter, you had gone to support your big brother at one of his hockey matches as you often loved doing. It was the semi-finals and he had led his team to a resounding victory as captain, rushing the barricades towards you and your parents, arms raised and fists curled in a triumphant dance that you mirrored. He engulfed you in a callous bear hug, easily enveloping you before clambering over to your parents. Over the broad shoulders of the players, you caught a glimpse of him.

His dark hair swooped messily over his forehead, thick eyebrows furrowed over his piercing blue eyes as he hung back from the rest of the team, choosing to avoid the adoring crowd and slip away into the changing rooms. You experienced a visceral response to seeing him in that oversized hockey jersey, so much so that you saw it in your dreams for the next month.

Suddenly, the unobtrusive guy who hung around your brother and occasionally teased you for the way you dressed became so much more than that. You felt on edge every time he came over, rushing over to your room to put on some lipgloss or change into a cuter dress before casually walking past the hallway a suspicious amount of times, hoping he would get a glimpse of you through the open crack in Jaden’s door. Luckily for you, your oaf of a brother never caught on, and if Anakin did, he never made it known.

Whilst reminiscing, you heard a knock on the door.

“Hey, it’s just me.” Ani’s sweet voice sounded. “I didn’t mean to upset you, we were just playing around.” You got up from your wallowing position in bed and straightened up like an arrow.

“Oh no, it’s fine, I wasn’t upset. I’m used to it.” You smiled sheepishly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “But thanks anyway.”

“I meant what I said. It’s good you have a strong identity, it’s what makes you you. You shouldn’t pay any mind to what others say, least of all me. I mean I’ve had plenty of choice comments about my look but I wouldn’t be Anakin without the piercings or the headphones or the bad attitude now, would I?” He leans on the doorframe and looks at you curiously. You have to take a deep breath to suppress a full body shiver, you don’t think you can take much longer of him staring at you like you’re his next meal.

“What’s all this- oh my“ he spots your nightie on the floor and picks it up. “Who are you trying to impress wearing this missy?” he closely inspects the white satin dress adorned with a lace trim, rubbing the rough pads of his fingers over the smooth fabric.

“And this?” He picks up the scandalous red panties sprawled out next to his feet and observes them as they dangle off his finger.

“Anakin! Put those down!” You jolt up towards him in an attempt to frantically snatch them out of his hand but he simply holds them up in the air so that you can’t reach. You weren’t a short girl by any means but you felt like one next to Ani’s staggering height.

“Oh this is priceless, are you telling me you actually wear these around the house? Or is it to your pageants, do you have some kind of boyfriend we don’t know about?” He laughs, clearly enjoying this abuse of power.

“No I don’t, not that it’s any of your business!” You huffed, slapping his chest in indignant frustration. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to look pretty for yourself.”

“Oh sweetheart, I don’t believe you. Because these aren’t pretty panties, this is a very slutty thong. One that someone would only wear if they were expecting to get laid.” His raspy voice dropped in tone, like he was saying something he didn’t want anyone else to hear. “Are you trying to get laid?”

A whimper almost escaped your lips at the unexpected question. Suddenly you were aware of how close your face was to his and that both your hands were resting on his chest.

“I won’t even dignify that with a response.” You muttered quietly, maintaining eye contact.

“Ah, who would’ve thought Jaden’s little sister would be such a slut. I bet daddy wouldn’t be happy to find out his little girl wears these.” He wraps his hand around the panties and subtly pockets them into his baggy black jeans.

“If I were really a slut then you’d be the first to know about it.” The words slipped out as you turned away from him.

“What?” He grabbed you by the wrist and turned you back around. “What do you mean by that?”

“I’ve never even been with one guy, let alone enough to make me a slut.” You admitted coyly, regretting the words as soon as they came out.

“You really are a good girl, aren’t you?” His gaze is so intense you worry your knees might buckle. “Something’s gonna have to be done about that.”

His fingers trace your collarbone as he takes one last look into your helpless eyes before turning around, smirking to himself as he leaves the room. You sigh a breath of relief at his absence, trying not to pay too much attention to the growing wetness between your thighs. This was not going to bode well for your vow of chastity.

Wait a minute, did he take your panties?

Next Chapter

[femdomlieeh]

Notebook of a fool ✧ Xiaojun

BFF!Xiaojun ✧ Crush!Fem!Reader

WC—3.8 ✧ k

WARNING—anxiety ✧ heartbreak ✧ crying ✧ pet names

THEMES—sfw ✧ light angst ✧ future fluff (?) ✧ best friend au ✧ crush au

NOW PLAYING—OTT ✧ IVE

A/N. 누나 (nuna) = older sister

psst! Next update is a Beomgyu smut… probably my fav smut I’ve ever written

M.LISTS—wayv ✧ latest updates ✧ read on wp

All rights reserved © femdomlieeh

✧ ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ✧ ੈ ✧

Today was one of those bad fucking days. One of those days when you can't find any positivity in anything. One of those days when you don't feel like talking to the people you love the most. One of those days when you just want to give up.

The first thing you saw in the morning was a notification of a text from your boyfriend. Looking at the white speech bubble is something you usually look forward to when you see Wonwoo's name bright up your screen, knowing he always has something entertaining to tell.

But this particular morning he said something you wish were a joke.

Wonwoo Boo💞

[ive been thinking lately and _____ i think we need a break]

Mommy🤠💦

[You're not going to tell me why?]

Seen 10:17

You asked him the first thing that came to your mind. He couldn't possibly just expect you to be OK with having a break without a reason, right?

After an hour you accepted the fact that he had left you on read and that he wasn't going to reply anytime soon.

Maybe it was because he called you _____.

He never called you by your name. Only your friends called you that. He was supposed to call you weird or cheesy pet names and nothing else! 

He left you with a headache. He left you with your bad thoughts and theories. Damn you, Wonwoo.

It was very human-like of you to be in a bad mood. Only a robot would feel nothing in this situation. The day wouldn't get any worse. You were going to make sure of it! Your mood may have been bad, but you weren't going to let anyone else get affected by it. Lashing out on innocent people because you don't feel good on the inside is something you hated doing.

Today you were going to hang out with your best friend, Xiaojun, have a picnic on a park next to the Han river. Xiaojun had packed a cute pink basket (that he had specifically bought for you two to use for picnics together since they happened at least thrice a month) which was filled with kimchi kimbap, green grapes, two clementines and some churro flavored chips and you had packed a large outdoor blanket so Xiaojun wouldn't have too much to carry. For almost a week you two hadn't met up and you both missed each other and wanted to make up for the days you had spent apart so of course you went for the nice, typical not-romantic-at-all picnic hang out session.

But no.

You weren't going to meet Xiaojun and ruin his parade with the rain cloud that was following you around wherever you went since you opened your eyes this dark morning. No, you weren't going to let the first time you two meet in such a long time be ruined by the sad news you got this ugly morning.

누나 🥰

[I can't hang out today, sorry]

Prince Junnie🦄

[why not?☹️]

누나 🥰

[I'm not feeling too well]

Prince Junnie🦄

[it's ok i'll make u some delicious soup😊]

누나 🥰

[No, you don't need to, I don't want you to get sick!]

Prince Junnie🦄

[but ive missed u sm☹️]

누나 🥰

[We'll meet another day I promise to make up for this!]

And so you put the phone gently on the table to lay on the sofa and binge watch some random show. You made sure to turn your phone off first since you knew you'd cut Wonwoo some slack in case you read any persuasive text from him — he's good with words and making you feel loved. Whilst you were looking through all the lists Netflix had created for you, which were filled with movies and series you either had already seen or weren't interested in, Xiaojun was still expectantly waiting for his screen to go bright.

She must be joking, he thought.

Unlike you, Xiaojun's morning had started out brilliant. From the moment he opened his eyes, he was smiling and full of energy, excited to hang out with you after not seeing you for five whole days. He had missed you. Spending time with you was one of his favorite hobbies! Since you two had picnics regularly you two had decided that you would take turns in deciding and packing the picnic basket and this time it was Xiaojun's turn! He had been so excited all week, planning out a shopping list days before. He had specifically purchased grapes this time because he had this fantasy of putting one in your mouth (which sounded weird, but it would feel intimate to feed you fruit) and also playing around and throwing grapes up in the air and catching them in the mouth. 

Needless to say, he liked you a little more than a best friend should and that was a bit of a problem. His friends kept telling him that it was stupid to spend so much time with you and that Xiaojun should either try to ignore his emotions or he should distance himself from you until he loses feelings, because it was unfair to hurt himself by giving himself false hopes of getting somewhere with a taken girl. 

And Xiaojun knew it. For so long, he'd known that it was a bad idea to like you. You didn't like him in the same way, and you even had a boyfriend for fuck's sake — and a really pretty one at that! But no matter how many red flags there were, he still wanted to spend everyday with you. He didn't want a week to go by without being with you. He wanted to cuddle with you on a picnic blanket. He wanted to kiss you when you visited photo booths. He wanted to share hoodies with you. He wanted to stay up late and talk until you two fell asleep in each others' arms. He wanted to be the only one you called Prince. 

Wondering why you called Xiaojun 'Prince' when you already were in a relationship with Wonwoo? Well, Prince had been Xiaojun's nickname before you even met Wonwoo (yes, you'd known Xiaojun longer than you'd known Wonwoo, yet you still found yourself in a relationship with the latter — or not anymore actually). And though your (then) boyfriend never liked it, you had convinced him it was just a friendly pet name. Because that's exactly what it was.

To you.

To Xiaojun it was the closest he'd ever feel to being your boyfriend. But you started using that pet name less and ever since Wonwoo came around and ruined everything more than it already was ruined. Xiaojun even had to change his contact name on your phone to include the word 'Prince' so you wouldn't forget to call him that.

He loathed Wonwoo.

Wonwoo was always the reason why you couldn't hang out with your bestfriend for too long, why you couldn't call him Prince on certain occasions and why you couldn't look at him as a potential boyfriend. Wonwoo was an attention thief. Not really. But it felt like it. Xiaojun was jealous of everything Wonwoo had with you.

Because your boyfriend obviously was a threat, Xiaojun felt like he needed even more of your validation than before (which was already a lot). He needed your attention. If you ignored him he'd think it was your way of telling him that you had left him completely for Wonwoo. Ridiculous! He shouldn't feel like you owe attention to him.

Your friendly fucking friendship was the closest thing Xiaojun had to being together with you in the way he really wanted, so he valued it a lot. Not having you as his girlfriend was painful enough, but not having you as even his friend would break him.

Right now you weren't validating your time together, nor your friendship — or at least it felt like it to Xiaojun. He always needed your attention and unlike normally, he wasn't getting it right now. His smile dropped and so did his excitement for the day.

Was this the end?

He knew that spending one week without each other would lead to more time for you to spend with your damn boyfriend but he didn't know it would lead to the end of your friendship. 

No way he'd bail on the picnic plans.

Prince Junnie🦄

[can i pls come over? i bought fruits for u<33 i'm sure fruits is exactly what u need right now!!]

Prince Junnie🦄

[idc if i get sick or not bc i still wanna hang out w u]

Prince Junnie🦄

[pls 누나]

Sent 11:33

You had ignored him only once before and it was a horrible experience.

The way you ignored him (on accident) was so hurtful that he had to leave the gathering that he had looked forward to for so long, confusing the other guests, to go and lock himself in a bathroom so he could cry without bothering anyone. You'd gone right after him since you knew it wasn't very Xiaojun-like to leave a fun time for no reason. After you had knocked on the door and reassured him you were his best friend and not a random person coming to make fun of him, he let you in the bathroom.

The sight you were met by was his crumbling figure on the floor and overflowing tears on his cheeks. He had thought that you wanted nothing to do with him. Stupid you didn't see the obvious signs. It was because of the fact that you hadn't paid any attention to him that Xiaojun had gotten the idea that you had grown bored of him or that you wanted to leave him for Wonwoo (he hadn't told you the latter part, of course). And weeks later you did get together with Wonwoo. And that made him cry himself to sleep for days which you never knew.

How much your lack of attention and affection for Xiaojun had affected him was scary. And a fucking sign, you idiot. Nobody gets so worked up over the loss of affection of someone they view as a friend. Ever since that incident you'd made sure to always remind him of how much you value your friendship.

Except for today.

He thought he had made it clear enough to you that you never ever should ignore him unless you really meant It. Unless you really wanted to part ways. To go from the bestest friends to cold acquaintances. Some people might think it's crazy to be this attached to a best friend but you weren't just his best friend. You were his love and happiness. Without you he didn't have either.

Five minutes passed since he triple texted you and he still had no reply. Slowly he felt how his tummy was turning into knots and how his eyes started stinging.

Prince Junnie🦄

[ur making me worried]

Prince Junnie🦄

[hey!! text me so ik u didn't die from choking on strawberry milk 누나😰]

Prince Junnie🦄

[r u ignoring me?🫠]

Prince Junnie🦄

[unless u have corona, meet me by the river at 6 if u care abt me. i need to talk to u abt smth important]

Sent 12:04

If you didn't show up he knew for sure that you had left him behind forever. If you did show up then he'd confess to you. So spontaneously he couldn't keep his feelings away from you for another year because it wasn't healthy and he knew it. He knew he would have to tell you about his feelings sooner or later. And after being without you for a whole ass week and after experiencing the cruel punishment that is being ignored and even thinking you broke your dear friendship off, he knew the time had come for him to finally woman up and confess.

Whilst he was anxiously thinking through why he made such a bold move and possibly ruined any future he had with you, the girl he loved was being lazy and stuffing her face in pillows in front of a TV.

one season of Bojack Horseman later...

Tossed between blankets and an overflow of pillows, your tummy roared like a lion. You hadn't eaten anything yet. Maybe it was time to do something other than numbing your feelings with Netflix and the drinks you had at home? As you stood up you felt heavy. You had moved maximum 100 meters in the past few hours — to go to the bathroom, then kitchen and back to the living room — and it had taken a toll on your body physically.

Fuck.

You sat back down on your sofa and brought your phone to view after hours without it.

[6 new messages from Prince Junnie🦄]

Fuck. The last message was sent so long ago. You looked at your windows. It was dark outside. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. As fast as you physically could, you put on a pair of shoes and a jacket with your aching limbs.

In just a few minutes you were on your way to the closest bus station. The whole bus ride to the river was filled with thoughts putting you down. Your favorite person in the world was sensitive about this stuff and you hurt him. You were supposed to not let your bad mood affect anybody around you. But who were you kidding? Of course something had to go wrong with an idea you constructed and analyzed for four microseconds.

Before you knew it you had arrived at the destination. You were speed walking to the river. You two always went to the exact same spot by the river since it was usually vacant, by some miracle, and had a pretty view of a bridge.

You were naive enough to think that isolating yourself from your bestfriend and your phone would help solve your problems, so you were certainly naive enough to go and check if Xiaojun was still at your meeting place hours after you were supposed to meet him. What if he wasn't there? What if he was there?

The water was shimmering from the moonlight and next to it was a bench and an athletic, tall silhouette. Your eyes widened. Could it be...? Sniffles. That's the sound that came from their direction. You walked closer and could make out the lines of a figure that was all too familiar.

"Prince?"

The silhouette turned around and though it was dark you could see that it in fact was him. You quickly sat down beside him and noticed that a couple of notebooks were scattered on the ground next to a bike. You didn't know what to do, never having seen glad Xiaojun cry. After another particularly loud sniffle you turned your attention back to him. The light of the moon exposed the redness and tears on his face. For hours he'd been outside and his face was still wet with tears.

"Why are you still out at this hour?"

He choked on his tears and rested his face in his hands, "Because I'm a fool."

"No, you're not a—"

"Why are you here?" he interrupted you.

Touché.

"You told me to meet you if I care about you."

"You come here hours later as if I don't mean anything to you," he hurried out before his voice could crack.

"I'm sorry about that. But if I didn't care about you I wouldn't show up at all," you spoke with a soft tone. The last thing you wanted was to be harsh, especially since you were the reason your best friend was upset.

"Why did you do this to me, 누나?" he looked you in the eyes as if he'd find any answers inside them.

"I promise I didn't do it on purpose. I would never hurt you on purpose," you took his hands into yours, oblivious to how the simple gesture made Xiaojun a bit hopeful on the inside.

His hands were so cold it was shocking that he was shaking because of his crying and not because of the ice-like coldness. That's what happens when you're out for hours when there's no sun — or person — to keep you warm.

"I saw the messages 20 minutes ago and got here immediately. I would never purposely ignore you, Prince."

You made sure to use his nickname in almost every sentence you spoke, silently telling him that you don't want to fight. Slowly you brought his hands to your lips and kissed them lightly, five kisses on each hand for every finger. He looked at your lovely action and felt how his tears were slowing down. The kisses didn't make him warm — maybe for a second — but at least they made him feel somewhat better inside.

"I'm so, so sorry you had to be here in the cold," you apologized and kept his hands in yours as an attempt to warm them.

One part of Xiaojun wanted to continue being mad and make you feel bad for the hurt you'd caused him but the bigger part wanted you to hold him in your arms. He loved you and couldn't stay mad at you for long even if he tried.

"I-It's OK, 누나. At least you're here now," he whispered and looked at your locked hands, admiring the sight since it may never happen again — or maybe he should make sure his hands are cold more often—

You sent him a sorrowful smile and let his head rest on your shoulder, resting your own against it as an instinct, both from being comfortable and tired.

"From now on I will check if I have any texts every hour for you," you said with an exaggerated joking voice to lighten the mood.

He giggled. You weren't even being that funny but you were both tired and sad, so anything even a tiny bit funny was hilarious to both of you.

"What did you want to tell me before, Prince?" you whispered into his fluffy hair and petted it.

Should he tell you how he feels? Should he possibly ruin this? If he told you how he truly felt, would you ever kiss him hands like you did just now? Would you ever touch him this caringly ever again? Would you continue to call him Prince? Or would all of that be gone due to your loyalty to your sweet precious boyfriend Wonwoo?

For hours Xiaojun had been outside in the cold waiting for the love of his life so he could tell her the truth. But it took time before you, the love of his life, showed up. Too long.

When a person is alone outside with notebooks filled with blank pages to write feelings and stories in, it's easy to let emotions take over. He ended up writing around seven poems. Some poems were really cheesy and written in the spirit of the moment. Some didn't even rhyme. Some were a perfect description of where he was in him non-existent love life.

But they all had one thing in common.

They were melancholic and written from the point of view of a man who was hopelessly in love with his best friend.

"Nothing. I just wanted to have a picnic with you, 누나. I was just being dramatic to convince you to come despite feeling under the weather," he lied right through his teeth.

That made no sense because you two had never been on a picnic after sunset and Xiaojun would never lie to make you come see him. But you were tired and desperate to leave the cold outside, so you chuckled lightly, believing him immediately.

"Then where are the snacks?" you asked, confused since the only things around you were notebooks, a bike and water.

"I ate them."

Laughter filled the air; your genuine one and his fake one.

You put your face in his cheek, making him blush (not that you'd notice, since his cheeks were already red from before), "Well, my tummy is a little too thin right now, so let's go somewhere."

"In the middle of the night?" he questioned.

"Yes," you smiled against his cheek and he felt it, making him smile too.

"OK."

You both were still smiling when you were picking up all the notebooks to get ready for the ride. Jokes were thrown here and there. It was as if nothing had happened. You both knew it was a misunderstanding and you valued the friendship with the other too much to put energy into arguing. And you were tired too, so the argument wouldn't even be that epic even if you tried.

"What about your bike?" 

"Oh nooo! The buses are always so full now that it's too late to take the subway!" Xiaojun whined.

"You know what? Since I was a jerk you can go take a warm bus while I ride in the cold," you said impulsively.

"B-But, 누나—" he smiled, flattered. 

"B-But nothing," you interrupted him and sat down on the bike. Anyone who had spoken to you knew you were stubborn. He laughed. The little sadness he had left was gone by now. His cheeks were dry. Still red, but not from crying, now they were red from blushing.

"OK, whatever you say, 누나."

"You brought a transport card right?" you made sure since he came by bike.

"Yes I did~ See you in an hour, 누나," he winked at you and waved with a smile brighter than the moon before running to the bus that just arrived.

You waved back to him and got ready to bike — you definitely needed a head start. But before you started you couldn't help but see something white standing out in the darkness.

It was another one of Xiaojun's notebooks. You must've been too tired to notice it when you were picking them up. Thankfully the notebook was open or else you wouldn't have noticed it as it had a dark cover. You took it into your hands. To make sure it really was Xiaojun's you needed to read at least a snippet.

You prayed it was Xiaojun's because it would be worse if you read a stranger's private thoughts than your best friend's since you already knew all him secrets. The snippet was Xiaojun's. It was from one of the pages of poems that didn't rhyme, that was very cheesy but depicted how sappy he was feeling and also told him part of the story that you never knew.

I want to feel my best friend's lips on my lips

I want, more than anything, her to call me HER Prince

You drop the book on the grass. So that's what he wanted to tell you.

[bellewintersroe]

Could you do an esteban ocon x reader. I'm having so much baby fever, so maybe they just had a baby and they bring her to a race for the first time

YESSSSS I’ve been really into Estie bestie atm so this is adorable, thank you for your request!!

Esteban Ocon x Reader

With the Grand Prix kicking off in Monaco, Esteban and his girlfriend bring their six month old baby who steals the attention and hearts of everybody on the grid.

“Hello, baby.” I cooed to Violet, our now six month old baby who was cradled in my arms. “Are we going to find, daddy?” Her little hands clapped together as we headed through the paddock. It was our first time bringing little Violet to a race, and it didn’t seem like two minutes ago she was still in my belly at the last GP. It was a little nerve wracking, but Esteban got so lonely when we weren’t around so I tried to visit him wherever possible.

“Where’s daddy?!” I gasped, the baby’s brown eyes wide and scanning the room. With another over exaggerated gasp from myself, Esteban came hurrying over, mouth open in an excitement as Violet began reaching out for her dad, bouncing in my arms.

“There’s my baby!” He cuddled her so gently, kissing her lovingly before throwing an arm around me and greeting me for a lingering kiss. “Tu m'as manqué, Y/n.” (I missed you, Y/n).

“I missed you, Esteban.” I stroked his face gently, allowing him to engulf us both in another hug. “Now I have both my girls with me!” He exclaimed, pressing another kiss to my cheek before running a hand over Violet’s brown hair, which was just beginning to grow long enough to put a tiny little bow in. His hand cradled her head so gently, so protectively. Esteban’s eyes were full of complete love and I felt myself swooning once again.

“I am so glad she remembers me.” Esteban sighed, kissing her chubby little cheeks. The baby shrieked in excitement, snatching at the collar of his shirt. The last time we hadn’t seen Esteban in a while little Violet was unfamiliar with him, I’d never seen the man so upset in his life. Luckily she came around, now she was such a little daddy’s girl.

“I want her to meet so many people, come y/n.” He excitedly spoke, my hand grazing over his shoulder as I followed alongside him. “Look who I found!” Esteban announced. Luckily Violet was surprisingly sociable, she loved people and loved the attention. Within half an hour she’d been paraded up and down the garage, before Pierre ventured out a little further down the paddock with her.

The last thing I expected to see was a group of drivers huddled around her, overjoyed by the new arrival. Of course she’d met her uncle Mick and the entire Schumacher family, but for the most part this was the first time she’d met everybody in the garage.

“Shes more popular than I am.” Esteban slipped a hand around my waist. He kept his eyes on his little girl at all times, being the protective dad he was. It was healing to my own inner child, seeing how gentle he was with her. I smiled, my head resting against his shoulder. “I want another one!” Esteban eagerly spoke. My eyes tore from Fernando who was bouncing the baby excitedly, up to my fiancé again.

“Already? She’s not even 1!”

“I just love her I want 10 million more of her.” The Frenchman blatantly spoke. “Suppose we have got 20 babysitters for them all.” I nodded my head towards where Lance Stroll was pulling faces at Violet who was clapping her hands in amusement.

“Maybe we should go try now, no?”

“Easy Esteban, you have a podium to win first.”

“If I win a podium can we have another.”

“Deal…”

[daffi-990]

✨ Inspiration Saturday✨

Tagged by @monsterrae1 @disasterbuckdiaz @exhuastedpigeon @evanbegins @theotherbuckley @tizniz and @diazsdimples (who tagged me for Seven Sentence Sunday but I’ll do that one tomorrow.. even though it’ll be Monday for me haha). Make sure you go check out what they’ve all shared!

Sooooo I have no idea where this came from but I wrote 1.7K for it in one go which is big for me considering lately I’ve only been getting out maybe 300-500 words in one sitting. When it’s a bit more flesh out (aka when I write the dialogue direction) it shouldn’t be more than 2.5K so hopefully I can post it sometime within the next week or two if the inspiration sticks around.

Pretty much the gist of the idea is Eddie pulls away and tries to move on after the grave scene.

Eddie had thought for a while now that he and Buck were slowly moving towards a future together. A future where they weren’t just partners at work, but in all areas of their lives.

Buck dying had almost shattered that future but Eddie brought it back, brought him back with his own two hands and silent prayers as he got Buck’s heart beating again.

Buck came to his house when he needed to escape from Maddie and her parade of well meaning babysitters. It was Eddie’s couch that he fell asleep on, finally feeling safe enough to rest. It was Eddie he began to open up to about his death.

And it was Eddie’s heart that Buck unknowingly broke in a graveyard when he started talking about how a woman he barely knew saw him.

So when Buck officially began dating Natalia, Eddie boxed up the future he saw with Buck and taped it shut, storing it deep within the broken pieces of his tattered heart.

He tried to carry on like usual, but every time Buck mentioned how happy he was with Nat it was like a knife was twisting into the wound.

Eddie needed the wound to heal or he’d bleed out, and to do that he needed space.

So he began slowly pulling away. He stopped going out for drinks with the team, stopped inviting Buck over for a beer after shift and for movie nights (unless Chris specifically asked if Buck could come over. He didn’t want to deny Chris or Buck their friendship) and kept his replies to texts short and to the point that eventually Buck just stopped texting him unless to organize a time to pick Chris up or drop him home.

He felt like they were a divorced couple sharing custody of their kid, except Eddie wasn’t haunted by the memories of a life and love together. No, he was just haunted by the possibility he let slip through his fingers, plagued by dreams of a life they could have had together if he’d just been brave enough to speak up. He’d had so many opportunities, but it never felt like the right time. Probably because there was no right time. Not for them.

No pressure tagging: @wikiangela @wildlife4life @watchyourbuck @eddiebabygirldiaz @elvensorceress @thewolvesof1998 @rainbow-nerdss @puppyboybuckley @athenagranted @spotsandsocks @spagheddiediaz @try-set-me-on-fire @devirnis @fortheloveofbuddie @giddyupbuck @hoodie-buck @hippolotamus @honestlydarkprincess @homerforsure @jesuisici33 @jeeyuns @lover-of-mine @loserdiaz @captain-hen @bekkachaos @malewifediaz @steadfastsaturnsrings and anyone else I may have missed who wants to share!

[dreamerwitches]

Could you have a three course meal with only Madoka merch?

I've seen things like this before with Pokemon or Evangelion but I wanted to try it with Madoka, it would probably be a little more difficult since it’s a lot less popular than both but here we goooo!

So we’re looking for food and crockery for this! We want a starter, a main course, a dessert and a drink for our food. And for crockery we want a plate, perhaps a bowl (for starter or pudding), a knife, fork, spoon (perhaps for dessert) and a cup or glass.

I’m more confident with the crockery so let’s start there.

There are plenty of plates to choose from! So let’s go with the Broccoli line which includes every girl, Kyubey and Charlotte. Originally sold for ￥1200. I’ll choose Mami :)

I could only find one bowl in contrast but that’s good enough. From Movic, we have to choose a Kyubey for this one... sigh... at least we can pretend we’re drowning them XD This one’s a slightly pricier￥1260.

Now cutlery is a lot harder... I couldn’t find any knives or forks but we can compensate! It may be harder for certain dishes but we can use the Penguin Parade chopsticks! Originally selling for ￥840, we’ll choose Mami again, of course.

However another option is the cake forks from the "I'm not afraid of anything anymore" cake set selling for ￥5880 altogether. Perhaps we could use the forks for our main but it could also be for dessert depending on what we choose (though if we’re buying it all we might as well choose the cake that comes with it too XD )

Even though we have a cake forks, let’s still prepare well with a spoon! This is actually the reason I wanted to do this in the first place XD I saw a set of spoons on a regular ebay trawl! I believe, these are limited from the Madoka Magica cafe. Unfortunately the listings for these settle to around $150 since they’re limited items from a no longer running cafe...

But fear not! Perhaps instead we can choose the spoon from the Kyubey cake set! Now we get two cakes for dessert! This one is certainly cheaper than the first option at ￥3780.

Next let’s choose a glass and a cup! There’s certainly plenty to choose from in this category. Let’s go for the ACG glass set and choose the lovely Charlotte! This set also includes a Kyubey design, a generic fancy design and runes. You can buy three glasses for ￥2800, we can bring guests!

Let’s go a bit more modern for our cup! The glass was from 2014 now let’s jump to 2021! A lovely cup designed by our favourite Inu Curry for ￥1500!

Now we’ve got our crockery, let’s move onto food! I have a feeling this will be far more tricky...

We can’t really have a traditional starter but what about some bread hm? No, what if I put it in a can for you? Canned bread! We’ve got the same lineup as our original plates but sadly missing Kyoko as many early merch pieces do... sorry Kyoko... I know you would’ve appreciated the bread... This is only a low price of ￥700 hooray!

Now onto our starter! What luck, we have a choice! Would you like the curry for ￥683? 

Or the ramen for ￥893? I’m surprised they sold full meals, I don’t know about you

We already bought our dessert with our cutlery so we have another choice of two! Would you like the peach and pineapple Mami cake?

Or the vanilla and raspberry Kyubey cake?

Wasn’t that tasty? Now why don’t we top off our meal with some tea in our 10th anniversary cup! Let’s have the black tea from Mami for ￥525!

So let’s run the maths, how much did our lovely meal cost? A-Ah... ￥40982..? just shy of $300..? P-Perhaps it’s not such a good idea then... shouldn’t’ve bought those spoons...

[jgroffdaily]

As the last of the families finished smiling and posing for photos with Jonathan Groff and Miss Amie Vanité (drag performer Christopher Paolini) after the second of two story hours at the Lancaster Convention Center Saturday afternoon — in support of Lancaster Pride and the Lancaster Public Library — the two had a few minutes to talk about the day, and Groff, a bit about his Tony Award experience and his career.

This Q&A has been edited for length and clarity.

Jonathan, you’re here doing an event raising money for the Lancaster Public Library, as well as Lancaster Pride. Is there a book you’re reading, or have read recently, that you can recommend?

Miss Amie Vanité: He recommended I read Barbra’s book.

Jonathan Groff: That’s the one. Thank you! I am now over halfway through the audio book of “My Name is Barbra,” the Barbra Streisand memoir. I’ve gotten up to her directing “Yentl.” I was just listening to it yesterday while I was making dinner.

Which library did you go to as a child?

Groff: Lancaster Library and Strasburg Library. And the libraries in my elementary school, Smoketown [Elementary], and middle school. My library teacher was here today! Did you have a school library you went to, Miss Amie?

Miss Amie: I had a school library that I was in all the time. I went to the Reading Public Library and the Wyomissing Public Library.

Groff to Miss Amie: What was your favorite book that you read today [at the story hour]?

Miss Amie: That’s a toss-up between “If You Plant a Seed” [by Kadir Nelson] and “One Equals Many” [by Sonny Dean]. They’re so short, but they’re so poignant and so important.

Jonathan, you have been involved in Pride events in bigger cities. You were the grand marshal of the New York City Pride Parade (in 2014). This is your first event for Lancaster Pride ... .

Groff: This means more to me than anything I’ve ever done, at any Pride event. To be back in Lancaster, to be sitting next to Miss Amie. This combination of celebrating Pride and being in my hometown is unparalleled. It’s incredible.

Miss Amie: I was so blown away and excited that you wanted to come and do this and be a part of us here. It means the world.

Groff: To me, too.

Jonathan, a lot of the interviews you did with national media, leading up to the Tony Awards, seemed very introspective. You talked a lot about the 20 years since you moved to New York, and how your career has evolved since then. What did you learn from that?

Groff: It’s part of why I’m here right now. That opportunity of “Merrily [We Roll Along],” for the actors and the characters and also for the audience, was to really become introspective and look back on your life — things that worked out, things that didn’t work out, regrets, mistakes you’ve made, and when I read about what had happened in March with Miss Amie [the cancellation of the library story time and threats received], I was in the middle of the “Merrily” run. And I can’t believe I’ve done all of these gay events and I’ve never gone to my hometown. I’ve gone home to celebrate the theater, and the theaters I’ve worked at, but I’ve never gone purely for Pride. So, when this happened, and I was receiving these articles that my friends from home were sending me, it felt like such an obvious invitation to pick up the phone and call Lancaster Pride and Miss Amie, and make good on what happened in March.

Can you talk at all about what’s next for you, professionally? It was reported in Deadline and elsewhere that you were performing in an industry reading last month, of a musical about [1960s pop star and activist] Bobby Darin, called “Just In Time” [with the possibility of it being developed for Broadway. Groff had performed a Bobby Darin concert at New York’s 92nd Street Y in 2018].

Groff: Yes. We did that, and it went great. And it was really fun, and we’ll see what happens.

Has the type or volume of the [job] offers that you get changed since winning the Tony Award?

Groff: Yes. It’s more emails, more texts. It’s amazing.

I put Lancaster in the first sentence of my [Tony acceptance] speech because I love this city so much and I love this county so much, and I really prepared what I said in that moment, because I thought, if I get the chance to speak, I want to make sure I’m very intentional about every word that I’m saying. Because I’ve officiated five weddings now, and I started to, at the second and third wedding, comprehend the value of what you say when people are listening. And that goes from that moment, that opportunity I had to speak at the Tonys, all the way to this moment today with Miss Amie. It matters. It matters what we say and what we do, and it’s important to be intentional about those things. I learned that from that experience. And I’m feeling the ripple effects of that even months later

What was going through your mind between the time you heard your name called [as the Tony winner] and the time you got to the stage to make your speech?

Groff: I was really conscious of the people I was embracing. So I remember seeing my mom, my dad, my brother, our director, Maria [Friedman], who had just lost in her category ... and I lifted her up [off her feet]. Saw Dan [Radcliffe, his “Merrily” co-star], and then I remember thinking I have to get this out as fast as possible, because I have, I think, 45 seconds, and I wanted to say what’s in my heart. So that was the big goal.

Anything else you’re working on that you can talk about?

Groff: Unfortunately, I can’t. But when I can, I’ll let you know.

Is there any category of entertainment job — writing, directing, Shakespeare, a superhero film — that you’re especially anxious to explore?

Groff: I’m open to everything. Today it’s story time with Miss Amie.