#they had me and only me in mind when they made the set list

[coldhands-sunkeneyes]

Category 5 fall out boy moment

[sweet-as-an-angel]

so! you mentioned in the 'p0rn preferences' post that Gaz is not the one who jerks off the most in the 141, and I humbly ask you, who would that be?

I don't mean this as a request, just a little discussion, cause I feel like Soap would just be going at it at any chance possible, like a bunny. he probably doesn't care much if someone hears it, but that's just me thinking too much into it.

Who Jerks off the Most in the 141 + König

Warnings: 18+, Heavy Mentions of Masturbation, Male Masturbation, Implied Reader in Individual Headcanons, Accidental and Implied Voyeurism, Edging, Brief Mention of Injury, Men Who Moan <3, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except 'You'.

A/N: As per Anon's question (which I just had to turn into a post of its own) I present to you the list of the 141 members (and König) who jerk off from the most to least <3

Soap

I have to agree with you here, Anon - Johnny is most definitely the king of self love when it comes to the 141.

He doesn't much care where he is or who he's with; when he has to satisfy his needs, he'll do so.

Though, he'll spare whoever's with him the sight of watching him throwing his head back, trying to stifle his moans behind gritted teeth whilst the wet sound of his hand slipping up and down the length of his shaft fill the room.

Unless they want to.

For one reason or another, he's nigh-insatiable when it comes to his libido, and the fact that his stamina affords him the luxury of beating himself off until his cum is practically translucent doesn't help.

The slightest thing can set him off.

Someone brushing past him ? Hard.

Someone stroking his ego a little too enthusiastically ? Bricked up.

He sees something that's shaped to be a little too curvy or phallic ? Stiff as a pole.

He remembers something mildly suggestive you did three years ago in that restaurant ? He's going to the Horny Realm.

Yes, his teammates have complained about his incessant moaning-come-grunting-come-whimpering through all hours of the night, his voice contorting through a spectrum of desperation and Johnny always ending up spent and overstimulated by the time the sun comes up.

And then he's ready to do it all again the second night touches the horizon line, giving his teammates a knowing smile when he walks into the room sporting nothing else save for a pair of boxers and a monster that looks to be trying to tear itself free from them.

Gaz

Dude's young. Of course he's throttling that rooster on a nigh-daily basis.

The only reason he's not at it as much as Soap is because he likes to believe he still has a few threads of his self-restraint intact.

He doesn't.

Especially when it comes to you (regardless of whether you're dating yet or not).

But he doesn't need to know that.

Honestly, the only thing that separates him from Johnny's unmatched libido is the fact that it takes a little more than the slightest provocation to get Gaz going.

Albeit, that line is a thin one.

If he so much as accidentally sees something explicit for upwards of three seconds, he's hard.

The only advantage of his need for satisfaction is the speed with which he can achieve it.

He and Johnny actually timed each other once to see who could get off the fastest.

Gaz won. Though, only by a slim margin.

Needless to say, that made for a rather interesting conversation with the Captain when he walked in on two of his best soldiers sat panting on the edge of their cots, an almost-translucent spray spattered across their stomachs, eyes half-lidded and hazy.

Ghost

The third-in-line for the Throttle Throne is none other than our beloved Ghost.

Unlike Johnny and Gaz, Ghost is more likely to leave himself alone at the first sign of trouble, toughing it out until he can will his mind to less lustful pastimes.

He won't make his jacking off known to anyone, either, often doing it in the shower where the water beats down so harshly that no sound can be heard for the water's fall.

That, and he's a master at keeping his voice low, no matter the circumstances.

More often than not, Simon makes quick work of jerking off purely because it’s a means to an end. However, if it’s you he’s thinking of, he’s much more likely to take his time — to immerse himself in the fantasy of your body around his, taking him so well in one capacity or another. Fucking yourself dumb on his cock.

During these times, he’s thorough — much more likely to edge himself, to throw his head back and growl between gritted teeth, to savour the sensation coiling in his stomach, his balls growing tight.

Otherwise, he’ll stroke one out as quickly as he can, getting back to business as usual.

And to look at him, on the surface, you'd never know that he just spent the last three minutes rubbing one out in the bathroom (yes, he is also a contender for first place in the 'Who Can Jack Off The Quickest Competition', but he'll never allow Johnny or Gaz the luxury of witnessing his unprecedented skill; that's for your eyes only).

Until he corners you, breathing down your neck, scolding you for tempting him - a man whose restraint lies only in his ability to hold off from reducing you to an exponential reflection of his prior state, breathless and covered in fluids.

König

Have you seen the size of that thing ? Man should be in the olympics for being able to throw that weight around.

Similarly to Ghost, König only gets himself off when it's absolutely necessary.

Only if he doesn't have you lying around to help him, of course.

Though, he lets himself have a bit of fun with it. Especially if it's been a tough day.

He's vocal, too. Though he tries not to be.

He just can't help it. Days' - maybe even weeks' - worth of unspent adrenaline and semen is hardly any way for a soldier like König to go about his life. So, he expels it in the privacy of quite literally any isolated space he can find.

König is not an adventurous spirit by any means when it comes to self pleasure, but when needs must, he's willing to shoulder the weight of the prospect that someone on his team could walk in at any second and catch him spraying his stomach or the wall white with, let's face it, thick ropes of cum.

Hong-Jin's actually caught him doing that before now.

That's actually how the two became friends: Horangi heard König grunting in the store cupboard and, knowing how stubborn his Colonel was with letting others know when he was injured, sought him out. Wanted to offer his help.

Catching Colonel König in the act of throwing his head back whilst growling the name '(Y/N)' into the darkest corner of the room was, suffice it to say, not what Horangi had been expecting.

Price

You just know he's cool with it. And by 'cool', I mean incredibly intentional, controlled, and not ravenous in the ways our other favourite military princesses are.

Sure, Price has gotten hard on the job a few times.

Who hasn't ?

But thanks to his level head, unwavering devotion to his work, and absolute refusal to acknowledge that he did, in fact, get a little bit of a chub during a shoot-out, he's managed to gain control over every facet of his body.

Until he comes home to you, of course.

Until he's able to loom over you like an omen and run his hands down your sides, stopping at your hips and pressing kisses that become more open-mouthed the further down the side of your neck he dips.

Pressing his hips into yours. Something demands your attention.

There have been very few occasions where a cold shower wasn't a quick enough fix for him.

When the days of having you milk him are too far out of sight, he's had to suffice with his own hands before now. Had to imagine - remember - what yours felt like in his place, your lips curled up as he gripped the chair arms, breathless as he moaned into the warm tones of your shared apartment.

But don't worry ! He'll be sure to catch you up on everything you've missed while he's been away once he returns.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

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[ange1heavensent]

━ You Wanna Guess? ━

Pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

Content Warning: +18 content, minors do not interact, fic is based on Guess by Charli xcx featuring Billie Eilish, oral (r! receiving), kitchen sex, thumb sucking, porn with plot

w/c ≈ 1800

Ellie couldn’t keep her eyes away from you, more specifically keep her eyes from drifting down to your lower back, the small tattoo peeking out from the lowrise jeans you were wearing, however it wasn’t just the tattoo that was piquing Ellies interest. The black lace thongs that were sticking out were much more interesting. 

-

It was supposed to be a lazy Sunday, but you decided that the two of you needed to get out of the small apartment you were sharing. You'd been cooped up there since Friday evening and Ellie would’ve been fully contempt with a weekend full of nothing but you two being close to one another, but you had other plans for how you were going to spend your Sunday and Ellie decided to tag along.  

You started with lunch and then the two of you were roaming the streets of Boston, checking off boxes on your shopping list. First looking for new duvet covers and that's when Ellie noticed the black lace fabric sticking out. You were crouched, looking at some blue flannel duvet covers and Ellie couldn’t help but stare, because it was her favorite pair. The black lace ones, with the bow in the front. She also knew that they were part of a matching set and she wondered if you were wearing the bra that went with it. The black lace lingerie set was something you picked out together, Ellie's gift to you that Valentine’s day - which was more of a gift to herself, but that’s irrelevant. 

It was as if the underwear you were wearing was haunting her. They were plaguing her mind. She tried to keep her composure, but they kept on reappearing throughout the day. At the bookstore, when you once again crouched down to look at the classics on the bottom shelf, or at the grocery store when you were reaching for something on the top shelf. Ellie was capable of keeping her hands off of you in public, most of the time. The two of you had been together for a long time at this point and Ellie had been in situations were she found you incredibly sexy, to the point where all she wanted were to press you up against the nearest surface and just fuck you sensless, but she’d often managed to keep her cool and wait until you were at home. Now however, she was a ticking time bomb and it was the underwear's fault. 

-

The two of you had finally made it home and were putting away the groceries together. The way you moved around made the underwear peek out several times and Ellie couldn’t keep her composure any longer, she needed you now. So, Ellie decided to move towards you, wrap her arms around your waist and bury her head in your neck, breathing in your scent. “Ellie” you said while playfully trying to get her away from you, her breathing tickling the side of your neck. Ellie’s arms only wrapped tighter around your waist and she huffed out a “what” you could hear the pout on her face, “I’m not doing anything,” she continued, the pout turning into a smirk. “Yes, you are,” you chuckled, “you're distracting me, let me just finish up and you’ll get my undivided attention.” “ You better” she only huffed out, then returned to bury her face in your neck and her arms remained around your waist. She clung onto your body as you moved through the kitchen, putting away the remainder of your groceries. Then, as you promised, your attention turned towards her. 

You turned around in her arms, your hands moving to cup her face. Ellie’s hands which used to have a respectful placement around your waist, were now drifting down and placed them on your ass and hips. Ellie sucked in a breath as she buried her thumbs underneath the waistband of your jeans, stroking the material she was entranced by the whole day. “What has gotten you so needy, baby?” you asked softly, Ellie answered by pressing her lips on yours. Because she was needy and she was needy for you.

Ellie’s hands moved to unbutton your jeans and when they laid on the kitchen floor, the place where they belong according to Ellie, her hands immediately gripped onto your thighs to place you upon the edge of the kitchen counter. “Been thinking about this all day, babe,” Ellie said while placing sloppy kisses onto your neck. “About what?” you questioned playfully, she had been giving you ‘bedroom eyes’ all day, but you couldn’t come up with a reason as to why. “The fucking underwear, baby,” she said looking into your eyes, while simultaneously cupping her hand inbetween your legs. You let out a strangled “oh” both for the clarification but also the sudden pressure. 

Ellie’s lips trailed down your chin, neck and onto your fabric clothed chest, which Ellie immediately made an effort to remove. A curse slipped out from her lips as she saw that you were in fact wearing the matching bra. Her hands and mouth latched onto your lace clothed tits, massaging, licking and biting lightly. Your hands flung into her hair, weaving themselves through her auburn locks. “Baby please,” you pleaded, pushing Ellie’s head down to where you wanted her the most. She chuckled into your skin, lips placing light kisses down your stomach, “look who's needy now, sweet girl” Ellie muttered looking up at you with a smug look plastered on her face. 

She grabbed onto your thighs, angling your hips upward for better access. Surprised by the fast motion you let out a yelp, as an apology Ellie kissed your thigh. Ellie’s hands were on your hips, keeping you in place, fingers weaving themselves in your black lace underwear, playing with the fabric, teasingly. Ellie’s lips were on the move, from light kisses on your plush inner thighs, to your lower stomach, but never at your center. You tried to guide Ellies head towards your pussy, but she kept on teasing kisses around it. You couldn’t fathom the level of self control she must have at this moment, if this was any other day, she would’ve already been two fingers deep already. 

You let out a whine and uttered “fuck, Ellie please just-” when she moved away from your lower half, positioning herself to be face to face with you. You were cut off by the fast movement of her hand tangling in your hair, pulling at it slightly. A gasp was released by you at the sudden movement. Ellie gazed deeply into your eyes, “you’ve been teasing me all day baby, and I can’t have a little fun with you? Such a brat,” she said mockingly, one hand moving to cup your cheek, thumb slowly tracing your bottom lip. You pushed your tongue out slightly, licking her thumb. Ellie decided to move it along further, pushing her thumb deeper into your mouth, you wrapped your lips around it and started sucking. Ellie watched with fascination, and the facade of self control started to crumble. Deep breathing could be heard from the both of you, Ellie released her thumb from your mouth, with a last swipe of your bottom lip, before her hand disappeared between your thighs. “So wet for me,” she stated, while her thumb was stroking your clit through your soaked underwear.

Feeling how wet you were, Ellie decided to move downwards again, however this time at a much faster pace. Her head was buried between your thighs in no time, she gave one lick on your still lace covered core, before moving the fabric aside and dove in. She was lapping at your core like a starved woman. She was licking, sucking and lightly biting on your clit, pulling moans, whines and pleads out of your mouth. It was messy, Ellie’s lower half of her face fully drenched in your wetness. Her hands were holding your hips down, so you wouldn’t accidentally buck yourself off the kitchen counter. 

The rhythmic sucking and licking on your clit was bringing you closer to an orgasm. Your head was thrown back, leaning against the kitchen cabinet, one hand buried in Ellie’s hair, the other gripping the edge of the counter. Your thighs were now placed on  Ellie’s shoulders, her head secured in between your thighs. The apartment was quiet, except for the pornographic noises the two of you were making. 

Ellie could sense that you were approaching climax, your body was tensing and you were grinding against her face, her suspicion was confirmed by you repeating “don’t stop” mixed with numerous curses. Ellie wouldn’t dare to stop, if she was honest, she probably needed this just as much as you did. Ellie did just as she was told to do, she continued. She continued to lap at your core, continued to moan into it, and continued to look up at you as you were approaching your climax.

It wasn’t long until your last throaty chant of Ellie’s name was vibrating off the kitchen walls, your body tense and sweaty. Ellie’s head was still locked in place between your thighs, the last grinds of your hips hitting her tongue. Then your body relaxed and slumped backwards, Ellie’s grip on your hips releasing as she straightened herself. Her disheveled face now leveled with yours. A smile spread on your face when you got a good look at the state Ellie was in, hair all ruffled, sticking to her forehead and neck, her mouth and chin glistening. 

She leant in towards you, lips pressing against yours, this time much softer. Her tongue protruding into your mouth, moaning at the taste of yourself. Then her lips started moving again, down your chin, jawline, neck and towards your chest. You hummed at the sensations, your hands tangling themselves in Ellie’s hair yet again, pulling her upwards to face you. You saw the frustrated look on her face, she wanted a second round. You chuckled at her expression, playfully stating “I should wear these underwear more often, huh?” Ellie’s hands were yet again playing with the lace when thinking about her answer “I don’t think you can, they're ruined, but I can get you new ones,” she said smirking, looking up at you through her eyelashes. You kissed her, giving you time to think of a comeback. You parted your lips from hers, whispering against them, “Ellie,” “mhm?” she responded, you moved your lips closer to hers, “I shouldn't be wearing ruined underwear, right?” Gazing into her eyes, to see if she got the innuendo. She shook her head with a sly smile on her face, “you definitely shouldn’t,” she said, dragging your underwear down your legs letting them fall to the kitchen floor.

｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡.｡:+*ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:｡.｡:

Thank you for reading! If you liked this fic, check out my masterlist for more :)

[etfrin]

⤷❝Mine To Love | Coriolanus Snow❞ˎˊ-

⇢☾Warning: NSFW | Snow is his own warning, mentions of killing, mentions of caging/locking you up (doesn't do it though), hair pulling, breath play if you squint, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), pinv sex, blowjob, male masterbation, cunnilingus, mating press, mentions of Lucy Gray, no spoilers | lmk if I forgot anything!

⇢☾Pairing: young president Snow x fem! Reader

⇢☾Summary: Snow realizing his feelings for you, being fucked up about it and fucks you!

⇢☾A/N: don't romanticize, it's dark romance so y'all are warned! This is set in the same au as The Study (you don't have to read it beforehand but it's recommended)

< masterlist > < bc: @cafekitsune > <tag list>

It started slowly, so slow that Snow didn't even realize it. It started with that night in the study after he had you. He didn't touch you again, denying himself of you. You, his wife, a little bird stuck in a cage. The First Lady of Panem was nothing but a doll, a showcase piece for the country.

You played the role well enough, but you weren't a doll at all. You brought life in what was otherwise a stone-cold mannor. The workers cook your favorite, making sure you're the most well-accommodated. Like a Queen. How their shoulders relax and the smile that springs up when they do the tasks that you assigned them. You earned their respect and their loyalty.

You were dangerous yet harmless. It baffled Coriolanus to no end. It started slow. He coincidentally met you in the hallways more and more. After that night, you couldn't make eye contact with him, no longer did you greet him with an awkward hello or a shy smile.

You look down at the floor whenever he passes you by, your body flushing from the mere second of proximity. So obvious and adorable. He loved how easy you were to read, how open you were. Whatever your lips hide, your eyes show. Whatever your soul hides, your body shows.

It started slow. The monthly dinners with the First Lady turned weekly. Every Sunday now he had you sit across him for dinner and he would ask you about your day. Just to be polite, mind you, don't look into it. He would be annoyed by those one-word answers but would never show it. His fingers subtly grasped the glass of wine tighter than he should, his heart pricking his brain into paranoia. ‘What else?’ he wanted to ask, ‘Stop saying it was good. Tell me what made it good.’

Instead of uttering those words, cameras were placed on every inch of the manner with the audio functions so everything is recorded for his and only his view. He watched you walking through the library, your fingertips touching the spines of the books you already read (which was most of them), you didn't even realize new books were added to the collection, all similar to the ones you liked. He watched you stroll the gardens, your face in a frown at the neverending white roses. A red rose and several other flowers were added the next day.

It started slow. He began to talk about his day more and more trying to fill a silence. He started asking for your opinion and oh, how that lighted your eyes up that you were finally doing what you were meant to do. Supporting him not as a doll but as a wife. You begin to talk about your days more, trusting him with your day-to-day activities. You tell him about friends and family, something he wasn't interested in (he has files on every single person you mentioned).

The nights that were dedicated to his needed sleep turned into the witching hours in which he would stroke his cock over the memory of you. His mouth biting into the pillow to stop his groans, hearing them would mean admitting his need for you and he rejected that notion. His cock was oversensitive because he couldn't stop. He couldn't stop fucking into his fist, again and again thinking about you. Not just your pussy but you. Your desperate moans, your lips marking his neck, your slick walls, and everything of you. Your tears, your head on his chest when he had fucked you. Everything.

He wanted to pin you against a wall. He wanted to bend over during dinner. He wanted you on his lap in his study. He wanted to push you to the bed and fuck you until the bed breaks. He wanted you!

The realization made him spill onto his bed sheets for the nth time. A gasp escaped his lips as he realized how deeply you are rooted in him now. He needed to kill you. He can't afford this again. Whatever this is. Obsession? Love? Was there ever a difference? He needed this to end.

‘You don't deserve to be loved,’ he thinks, you were no Lucy Gray after all, you were different. You could never compare to his first and only (not anymore) love. But he had caged you, he had you and knew your every move. The rumors that spread of cheating were seized along with the man who flirted with you. True to your words, you hadn't fallen to the temptations of the Capitol, rejecting their offers politely rather than basking in their attention like before.

‘Good,’ he thought, he had killed everyone who had touched you and it was hard to hide the evidence. “I am so much better than her,” he muttered, “I could do so much better.” He asked himself, ‘Why? After all the promises I made to myself of never repeating the mistake.’

He didn't get a reply but he dreamt of you.

Breakfast had passed, lunch too, he hadn't seen you once today. A quick peek at his monitors showed that you were sleeping in your room. He clenched his jaw, a part of him hating you for sleeping in because it deprived him of seeing you. A part of his heart warmed because your hair was a mess, the shirt you were wearing while sleeping was his, and you looked so darn pretty.

Coriolanus convinced himself that he was going to your room to wake you up. Nobody should sleep this late into the day. It wasn't healthy, and he needed the First Lady to remain healthy. That was all.

He stepped into the room, his footsteps quiet so he didn't alert you. He sits down on the bed, your sleeping figure beside him. Your mouth had dried drool on the corners which made him disgusted but amusement all the same. His hand went to your cheek, he couldn't control the action of his thumb stroking your cheek.

“I should lock you up forever,” he whispered as softly as possible, almost inaudible. “In this room, so no one can see you but me.”

He knew by now his thoughts weren't normal and it would never be. That's him and he had accepted himself. He leaned in closer, his lips inches away from yours. He stopped right before he closed the gap. He takes a deep breath, taking in your scent before pulling back.

His hand goes to your shoulder, he shakes you. “Wake up, bird,” he said, his eyes softening when he saw you wake up and peer at him with confused eyes. You yawn, and sit up, your eyes wide when you look at him. You rub them with your hand and blink.

“Is there anything wrong, Coryo?” You asked softly, “Anything I can do to help.” “You should shower and eat first,” he said instead, “and next time don't sleep in. I don't like indiscipline.”

“Sorry,” you mutter, “I was finishing a book.” Your eyes flicker to him, “It's nice by the way! I will tell you about it during dinner.” He wanted to hear about it now, he wanted to pull you closer and kiss your lips, he wanted to push you into the mattress and breed you. He wanted to clean you up after and feed you every kind of feed.

He clenched his jaw, trying to get rid of such thoughts. “We'll see,” he said before walking out of the room, accidentally slamming the door. The first sign of Snow losing control.

The second sign of Coriolanus losing control was how his breath hitched when he saw you during dinner. You are wearing yet another one of his shirts (how do you even get your hands on them) and that's it. A white shirt that reached your knees, you had forgone pants and opted for shorts that couldn't even be seen. Your legs were in complete view, the same legs he wanted wrapped around his waist.

He didn't say a single comment even when it was clear you were waiting for one. ‘Were you trying to seduce him?’ he thinks, ‘Or something else.’ He felt paranoid about you wearing his shirt. Did you want him? Want him to bend you over, press your face onto the table and fuck you like you were an animal?

He felt his pants getting tighter from his thoughts, flashes of what he could do to you, what he had done to you. He couldn't focus as you talked during dinner, he made a mental note to watch the cameras later to know the words you had blessed him with.

It hits him like a wave when dinner ends and you come to him with a book. Tabs were spilling out and it was a hardcover of an old classic that he had to read during the academy.

“You once told me that you liked this book, I spent last night annotating it! I did a few finishing touches before dinner…”

That explains your attire, you were busy formatting this gift for him. He took the book from your hand, he wanted to throw it across the room, he wanted to set it on fire. It was now his most precious treasure, more important than Panem itself.

The truth he denied washes over him. Making him take a sharp breath and your eyebrows etch together in concern. He had once a girl dedicate songs for him, now he had a wife dedicating booms for him. ‘It would be a mistake,’ he told himself, ‘It won't be a mistake if I don't repeat the past.’

The desires he shoved at the back of his mind sprang forward and he made a decision. The third sign of Coriolanus surrendering to himself was that he had everyone including the guards leave the dining room. Making your eyes widen from the sudden instruction.

“Is there anything wrong-” you begin to ask before Snow interrupts you. “Here is what's going to happen now. You're gonna be on your knees, you'll take my cock in your mouth and you'll make me cum. Then I will take you to our room and I'll fuck you until you can't remember your name.”

You blink once, twice just staring into his eyes that revealed nothing before you went closer to him and got down on your knees for him. “Like this?” You asked, breathless, your cheeks flushed. He smirked, “Exactly like this, pet.”

“Now part those pretty lips for me,” he said as he unzipped his pants and set his hard cock free. He lets out a chuckle as he sees you eyeing his cock like a long-lost lover. Guess he wasn't the only one thinking about that time.

You part your mouth wide enough for him as he pushes his cock in slowly. No matter how desperate he was a gentleman for his wife. He knew better than to gag you. He stopped when his cock had completely disappeared, his length engulfed into your wet, hot mouth.

He throws back his head as his dick hits the back of your throat. He relishes the sound of your choking around his length. He lets out his groan, trying his hardest not to cum down your throat so soon. His hand is in your hair, keeping you in place like an obedient pet.

You try your best to take in a deep breath as your tongue swirls around his length as much as possible. You weren't the best at blowjobs, but you knew the sloppier the better. Saliva ran down your cheek as you tried your best to focus on his cock underside, your tongue dragging itself across a pulsing vein that reached his cockhead.

You moan around his length as the taste of pre-cum bursts in your mouth. You close your eyes and try your best, bopping your head up and down. You clenched your fist, trying your best not to gag when his cock gets deeper into your throat.

Meanwhile, Snow was a wreck of a man, the heat of your mouth ruining his capability of having coherent thoughts. You were sucking his soul through his dick it seemed to him. His fingers tangled in your locks, gripping your hair tighter as a way to anchor himself to reality.

His blue eyes dilated to almost black as he looks at you taking his cock so well. Like you were made for it. Made for his cock. Made for him. Meant to be his wife, his bird, his pet, and his love. It's destiny, he decided as he pulls you off his cock and uses his suit sleeves to wipe your mouth and chin.

‘Everything leads to this,’ he thought, as he pulled you onto his lap and pressed a kiss to your lips. The saltiness of his taste in your mouth does not deter his tongue from tasting you.

“Go to my- our room,” he whispered to you as he broke the kiss. “I'll be there soon,” he promises as he nuzzles into your neck, his lips kissing your skin. You nod and get off his lap. Your feet drag you into his room.

Meanwhile, Coriolanus takes a deep breath, trying to maintain whatever pathetic excuse of sanity he had held. It didn't work. His cock was hard enough to hurt and his brain made him think. He thinks of removing you, he thinks of keeping you. He thinks of plans to protect you, backup plans to make sure you remain untouched while still maintaining the image of the First Lady. His true possessiveness and obsession flares up in his mind.

‘It won't be a mistake if I don't repeat the past,’ he told himself, repeating that line to his head.

He takes a deep breath, a glance at the cameras shows workers and guards kept the halls clear and you were in his room and on his bed waiting for him. Waiting for him to ravish you as you kept playing with the buttons of the shirt, and your underwear on the floor. Your face was crimson but your lower lip was in a darker shade of red with how much you bitten it because of nervousness.

He lets out a huff of air before adjusting himself accordingly. Coriolanus Snow was many things, gentlemen included and gentlemen don't keep their ladies waiting.

You freeze as he enters the room. You swallow nervously, your fingers pausing on the shirt button you were playing with. He glances at the panties that were on the floor and he gives you a little smirk. “Take it all off, my wife,” he said as his hands worked to undress him. His suit was on the floor, his shirt joining it soon enough.

You have to press your thighs together as you see his skin again, a whimper escaping your lips at the sight. He was so beautiful, craved by the angels, breathed to life by the devil. Soon, his pants and boxers were getting ridden off.

You check him out, your gaze hungry. Your fingers shake with desire as you take off your (his) shirt. You let it fall, exposing yourself completely to him, like he did for you. His eyes rack you up, causing a flush to every visible inch of your skin.

“Open your legs,” he said, as he walked closer and got down on his knees for you. “I am hungry,” he said, while his lips pressed to your knee and his lustful eyes bewitched you. You had to bite your tongue to not let a moan from his mere words. You spread your legs wide, letting your cunt come into his view.

Your folds that were glistening with your arousal and your slit which was the cause of your juices fluttered around nothing from his gaze. “Exquisite,” he had whispered, the praise warming you up and making your pussy clench harder. “Eager too,” he chuckles, looking up at you but you refuse to meet his gaze.

“Have your meal,” you mumbled, embarrassed. He pressed a wet kiss to your inner thigh, making your breath hitch from the contact. A sharp moan escapes when he bites, his teeth digging into the flesh and your hand falls onto his hair. Your fingers grip the blonde locks but you don't try to push him away. Your legs tried to close around him, but his hands made sure to keep them spread as he liked it.

He pulled away, admiring the mark before he pressed another wet kiss to it. His fingers grip your thighs, they hold tight enough to leave marks too.

He takes in a deep breath, nuzzling into your thigh. Your primal scent makes him go wild, his nail digging into your skin as he brings his lips closer to your pussy. One swipe of his tongue onto your folds and he groans louder than you have ever heard him to do so.

“You taste like fucking candy,” he lets out, as his nose bumps into your clit, his tongue messily swirling around your folds, gathering as much of your juices as possible. Your legs were all on his shoulders now as he all but pressed his face, burying himself in your cunt. He takes in a deep breath through his mouth before he begins to ravish you properly.

His mouth taking in your entire pussy and sucking it with such devotion it made you see stars. He laps at your pussy, his tongue never stopping to devour you. You pulled him even closer, your thighs closing around his head. The action only made him. You couldn't see it, but his eyes rolled back from the lack of air and your taste that quickly became his favorite.

His teeth pulled at the outer lips of your pussy, making you cry out and gush more juices. He licks it all up. Before his attention goes to your little bud, his mouth kisses it at first. Then he takes your clit into his mouth to suck without any mercy.

It makes you cry out, the soles of your feet digging into his back as your hips begin to rut against his face. You have no control over your actions. You were gripping his hair so tight you were afraid that you tore away a few strands. Overwhelming pleasure attacked all of your senses as he didn't stop his merciless actions.

You arch your back, your lips moaning his name as heat begins to gather in your body. You cry out, “Close! Coryo! Fuck!” Pleads begin to leave your mouth as your hips grind faster, your clit nudged his nose as his tongue is now inside your walls, fucking you with his tongue.

Your eyes widen, and you let out a silent scream when his teeth nip your swollen clit. You lay on the bed, panting as your pussy cums on his face. Your arousal makes a mess on his face which makes you even more slick when he pulls back and gets on top of you.

You looked into his eyes, his cold blue eyes that were nearly black now. He was panting, both of your breaths mixing into the air. With whatever senses you have left, you use your palm to clean up some of the mess on his face.

As soon as you finish up, he holds your hand. His mouth on your palm with broad strokes of his tongue he licks the remaining of your juices clean. “Can't let it go to waste, my bird,” he whispered to you as he leaned down. His body caging yours or were you caging him down with your legs around his waist? He pressed a kiss to your cheek. Sweet and gentle, and so unlike him but you don't dare question his affections. May it be sweet or savory, you accept it with your arms wide open.

“Want you,” you whispered to him. “You'll have me when I see fit,” he replied, his mouth pressing open-mouthed kisses to your neck before they reached the flesh of your breasts. One of his hands squeezed your breast and his thumb rubbed circles on your nipple. His lips paid attention to the underside of it, licking the skin around the round flesh before his teeth sank in making you gasp. He sucks harshly, his hold on your breast getting rougher as he forms the mark on your skin. When he's assured that a hickey will be formed, his lips pull back and he presses a kiss to the mark.

“You're mine,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your skin before he takes a nipple into his mouth and sucks just as harshly as before. You moan, “Yours, Snow!” Your hands on his shoulders, your nails digging into his flesh. His fingers play and squeeze your other breast while he continues to suck your bud. Your cunt despite having a previous earthsharing orgasm begins to pulse with need. You whimper, “Corio, please!”

Coryo pulls away, his eyebrows etched in annoyance, as much as he likes to hear you beg, he would rather focus on his task of marking you up. He leans up and presses his lips to you. You moan into his mouth as you taste yourself on his tongue. Your fingers tangling themselves into his curls bringing him even closer to you. He breaks the kiss, “I'll teach you to be obedient later, my pet.”

You let out a whimper when he pressed a hard kiss against your lips. His hands travel down to your hips. “Get ready,” he whispered to you, “I meant my words.” I'll fuck you until you can't remember your name. Remembering his earlier words, you whine loudly, “Please!”

His hand grips your hip tightly as his other hand holds his hard cock and guides it to your entrance. Just to be a little tease, he swipes his mushroom tip all over your cunt, his cockhead bumping your swollen clit making you arch your back and your nails dig into his flesh harder, making him moan as well.

He finally pressed his tip into your slit, his cock gliding in smoothly because of how wet you were. He groans as his dick gets sucked into warmth. His head is between the space of your shoulder. He was panting, his hot breath hitting your skin as he pushed in inch by inch. Your hands are on his back, your legs around his waist as you encourage him to go deeper into you with your soft moans.

His teeth sink into your neck to stop a groan, as his cock reaches your deepest spot. While your nails drag themselves across his back to create red lines. Both of you finding ways to anchor yourself to reality, to not go insane with the pleasure you find in each other.

“Move,” you plead, “Please, Coryo, need you to fuck me. Need you!” Snow decided to have mercy on you both, his hips began to move shallowly, and he refused to completely pull back. He refused the concept of depriving his dick of your sweet, wet pussy. “Faster,” you beg, his deep thrust hits at your every spot, some you didn't even know existed. It fried at your senses, your mind going haywire, your body getting desperate for another release.

“No,” he barks near your ear, his mouth biting your earlobe before he begins to kiss your jaw and then to your collarbone. His lips suck purple and blue bruises on your skin while his hips grind into you. Making you go dizzy and insane with how his cockhead kept grazing your g-spot.

“Please, please,” you babble, “You're fucking me so good, Coryo! I can't take it, please! Fuck me harder, love!” His hips had stopped moving as he heard your words. His head leaned up to you, his lips brushing against yours as he whispered, “What did you say?”

You looked straight into his eyes, not hiding the love you had for him, letting it flow through your words and your body. “Love,” you whispered, your lips pressing a delicate kiss that could shatter everything you had built with Snow. “I love you,” you whispered. One of your hands moves to his cheek, caressing him. “You don't have to do anything in return, just know that I love you.” You smile at him, knowing it's more likely that he won't ever return your feelings.

You prepared yourself for a harsh rejection but instead, his hips begin to move again. Harder, faster than before, his cockhead kissing your cervix with his thrusts, his fingers digging into your hips marking it. You won't be able to walk later but that didn't matter.

What mattered was how perfect Coriolanus had begun to fuck you. No, it wasn't a fuck. This was something more. Something changed with your confession, something changed and will remain changed for the rest of both of your lives.

One of his hands reached upward, his fingers snaking around your throat. He pressed it in, not enough to block your breathing but enough to make you lightheaded. Your pussy which was already tight, clenched around him further making him groan right against your ear.

“Lover indeed,” he whispered, his words that you nearly missed, your heart understood what he meant. You gasp, “Kiss me.” You knew that even without him saying those words, he could love you all the same.

Snow complies, his lips clashing with yours. His hips rutting into you as his hands guide your legs into the mating press position, making you cry out into the kiss as his cock reaches even deeper than before causing a small bump into your stomach that neither of you notices.

The kiss got open-mouthed, desperate with how his tongue tangled with yours. It was filth filled with the pathetic, insanity of love you both felt for each other. His thrusts got faster, and sloppier as he was close to his end. Your cunt pulsating around his length as you too were close to shattering again.

What it took for both of you to reach the end was him breaking the kiss to whisper, “I should kill you. I should kill you for making me a lovesick fool again.”

The words even when you know can mean your doom makes you cum like nothing else. Your lips cry out as your walls begin to milk his cock for what it's worth. He groans into your mouth, letting himself feel your fluttering cunt before he thrusts into you once, twice, and finds his release. His cock spilling into you, his cum painting your insides white, marking you.

He pulls out, his back covered with scratches, his curls clinging to his forehead and his lips swollen from the kisses. You looked just as much of a mess as he did, with marks all over your body.

He thinks to himself as he lies beside you. He wasn't going to kill you now. Not in ten years or fifty but your end would only be when he decides.

He loves you after all, in his twisted way.

tags : @stelleduarte @nowitsmissing @lifeonawhim @le-lena @justacaliforniandreamer

[tteokdoroki]

⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡. — KATSUKU BAKUGOU. setting powder.

about. whilst getting ready to meet your new boyfriend’s extended family — you learn that he knows a thing or two about doing makeup.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, characters aged up to 20s, enemies to lovers, meeting the family, new relationships, brief mention of injury and hospitals, reader wears makeup and dresses, pro hero!bakugou, nurse/doctor!reader.

“we’re gonna be late, sweetheart.”

leaning against the door frame, bakugou crosses his arms over his chest — his perfect lips pulled into a suave smirk as he watches you finish your makeup for tonight.

“wha…huh? you said i had twenty minutes?” you’re still half dressed, your boyfriend’s baggy hoodie from an old merch collection draped over your sweet little dress to protect it from your foundation, your hair is tied back and away from your face so it doesn’t get in the way and though you’re still trying to blend your cream blush in with one of those sponge things — katsuki thinks you’re the most adorable thing in the entire world.

pushing himself off the door frame, he sits behind you on the bed — still watching you work at the vanity whilst he fixes the cuffs of his dress shirt. “that was twenty minutes ago,” the blonde rasps affectionately and grasps your at your jewellery laid out on the bed. the rough pad of his thumb traces over the ‘K’ on the silver heart locket he’d gotten you for your birthday before he undoes the clasp and places the chain around your neck — being mindful of your hair in the process. “y’said you’d be done by then.”

you catch your boyfriend’s vermillion stare in the reflection of your mirror — his subtle smile when he sees his initials dangling from your neck. it feels you with warmth to know that no matter what, katsuki will always find you beautiful and will always love you. even with how chaotic your makeup looks when half done. “i think i spent too long in the shower ‘n underestimated how long this look would take,” you sigh, reaching for your lip gloss next. you’ll have to put it in your purse, do your lips in the car. “do you think they’ll mind if we’re any later than this?”

“my parents won’t. neither will inko. deku — i mean — izuku will, but he’ll pretend he ain’t bothered,” bakugou prattles down the list, making a note of tonight’s attendees. it was tradition that the bakugous and the midoriyas had a monthly dinner together, it had been going on since the two pro heroes were children. only now, their partners were invited since they were family too. family included you.

you hadn’t gone to U.A and you certainly didn’t know katsuki until he became an up and coming pro hero. the first time he’d saved you, by the sidewalk of the hospital you worked at, you thought he was brutish and stuck up. you’d hated him and he’d hated you. but over time, and more frequent trips to A&E after saving civilians or sometimes after being wounded in villain attacks — you’d come to appreciate bakugou’s brooding personality and observant nature.

he’d come to like you too. how much you cared for others and wanted to make the world a better place. you reminded him a little bit of izuku, in a strange way.

so one night when you were on call, katsuki brought you flowers instead of a stomach wound that needed stitches and you’d given him a kiss instead of berating him about being careful, over vanilla and chocolate pudding cups from the hospital cafeteria.

signing impatiently, you bring katsuki back to present day. “i wanted to make a good impression on your aunty and on your best friend,” rubbing your arm nervously, you cast your gaze over the mess on your vanity — expensive products splayed across them in organised chaos.

“you will. they’re gonna love you. they already do,” bakugou stands behind you now, rough palms smoothing over your shoulders. “izuku says you’ve made me less bitchy at work. whatever the fuck that means.”

you giggle, eyes sparkling in delight as you look at the blonde in the mirror. “really?”

“really,” he nods sheepishly. the way you look at him makes him feel so loved. it’s new to him. nice to him. “now, whaddya need help with s’we can hurry up ‘n hit the road.”

you begin to ramble on, perking up at the idea of katsuki helping with the rest of your routine.“well… i’ve done my lashes, my eyes, my base and blush… i can do lips in the car. aside from putting on earrings and fixing my hair all i need is to set my face with—“

“settin’ powder,” bakugou grabs the little pot from your vanity as if he knew where it was all along, picking up a little face cushion as well as he prepares to get to work. “got it.” he dips the cushion into the translucent powder, rubbing the excess off on the back of his hand before leaning in real close to dab at the areas he thinks you need it. like your t-zone.

your boyfriend’s touch is like magic on your face, perfectly setting your makeup while making you feel like a pampered princess. “who taught you how to do this?” comes your shy mumble, his proximity to your face causing you to grow flustered and squirm in your seat. “h-how are you so good at it?”

“keep still, i’ll be finished faster if y’stop squirmin’ sweetheart. don’t wanna mess up what you’ve done already,” pausing his actions, katsuki gives you a toothy smirk — revelling in how bashful you’ve become under his touch while he helps you with your makeup. “…grew up behind the scenes of fashion shows ‘n shoots. so i picked up a thing or two i wanted to make sure i could still do it so i watched a couple of videos on it too. ‘n i noticed…you always put so much time ‘n effort into your makeup. wanted to help make the process easier for you.”

you feel as though you could melt at katsuki’s kind words and gesture as he dabs at your face a little more — tongue caught between the tips of his pearly white teeth as he sticks it out in concentration. he’s so cute it makes you want to scream. “you’re sweet,” you coo appreciatively, stilling yourself to let him finish before he pulls back — satisfied with his work. “i love you.”

it’s not the first time you’ve said it to one another, but the three words are still new to the both of you. “i uh…i love you more,” a pink, rosey hue rises on the surface of bakugou’s tanned skin and his red, loving eyes dart away from your face bashfully. “‘m gonna get your shoes ‘n jacket ready by the door while that sits. don’t forget your settin’ spray after you brush that shit off — oh ‘n don’t take my hoodie off until you’ve done that. don’t wanna ruin your dress, kay?”

“okay,” you respond fondly, hiding your smile at his very specific instructions. “i’ll be down in a minute.”

katsuki nods hesitantly, standing up as he gathers your belongings and outerwear — ready to load them up in the car, when he suddenly pauses in place. “you look beautiful tonight, sweetness. you always do.” he adds as one last parting message, before disappearing down the hall.

leaving you wondering how you ever lucked out with such a man. one who’s not only kind and gentle and loving, but a pro hero and a makeup artist at that.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[murdockparker]

Of the Same Mind

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: A mutual distaste in a certain author—should he even have the grace to be called that—leads to an unexpected meeting.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: mentions of drinking/alcohol, pregnancy, fluff, time skip

A/N: a cute lil request! made me actually read a little Byron myself to get the gist! and it wasn't that terrible I'm so sorry to disappoint

Dull. 

Everything was dull. What was supposed to be the social event of the season was shortened due to poor weather—an outdoors event of sorts, it seemed, Benedict really didn’t pay his mother much attention when she explained the whole ordeal. Thus, half of the ton was crammed into Lord Whitehill’s home instead of his luscious grounds, all due to the pouring rain. Most conversation was boring, most of the ladies were whining about the rain, the men whining about their whining wives and daughters. 

At least the drinks were good. 

“…seriously think that fodder is worth your breath?”

Benedict’s ears perked up, focusing on a conversation that was decidedly not about the current weather. A breath of fresh air. 

“I-I did not mean to insult you, miss,” a young gentleman sputtered, his face rosy red. “I only meant to indulge you in poetry of the highest regard—” 

“If that was your intention, you would have chosen from a finer list of poets. Byron?” The lady nearly laughed out loud. “Byron is the bottom of the barrel, as it were, so your intention was ill-placed.”

“Byron is a well-regarded poet—”

“By who? Chamber pots?” 

Benedict nearly spat out his drink. The action alone brought the attention of the arguing couple to him—both sets of eyes trained on the tall Bridgerton at once. “Oh,” he fake coughed, “it seems the drink went down the wrong way, please, forgive me.”

The man—who Benedict now recognized as Lord Whitehill’s son—scoffed. “Bridgerton. You are well versed in the arts, are you not?”

Benedict nodded. “I dabble.”

“Would you please explain to Miss (Y/L/N) that Byron is a novel poet,” Mr. Whitehill asked, “and that she should be flattered I recited poetry for her, regardless of the poet?”

Miss (Y/L/N). So that was the lady’s name. 

“But that would be lying, Whitehill,” Benedict gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. “And I am ever a gentleman, raised to never lie, especially to a fine lady such as Miss (Y/L/N).”

She smiled at that. 

“You do not agree?”

“Oh I certainly agree with Miss (Y/L/N),” Benedict said quickly, setting his glass down. “Byron is a mockery to the art—meaningless words and jaunty titles, why, I tried to read his latest and it put me right to sleep.”

“I fear I had the same reaction,” Miss (Y/L/N) said, turning to Benedict in earnest. “Right before I decided to throw it to the flames.”

They both laughed.

“Imbeciles, the both of you,” Mr. Whitehill said, pushing past the newly acquainted pair. “Keep insulting me like that and I’ll have my father throw the both of you out into the storm.”

“Mr. Whitehill,” Miss (Y/L/N) said softly, her eyes melting into puddles of apology. “I fear we were not insulting you, but rather your taste in poets. I also fear there is a stark difference in that, for if I were to insult you, I’d make a more fitting jab, more educated in that regard.”

The shorter gentleman stormed off, steam nearly pouring from his ears. Benedict laughed.

“I must say, Miss (Y/L/N),” Benedict leaned down. “You have quite the sharp tongue.”

“I am known to be rather well spoken,” she beamed, standing a little straighter. “Perhaps it is my taste in literature?”

“For that, I believe we are in agreement,” Benedict said, grabbing a fresh glass from the table beside him. “May I offer the lady a beverage?”

“Only if you decide to share whatever’s in that pocket of yours,” she pointed to his chest. Benedict’s ears went pink. “Do not think I did not see you pour an added flavoring into the lemonade—it seems impolite that you would neglect to share.”

“It would be impolite,” Benedict said, carefully pulling his flask out of his coat. “I am surprised you saw that, though, given the crowded room.”

“You are a tall man, Mr. Bridgerton,” she said, taking the glass from his hand. Benedict poured a healthy amount of clear liquor into her cup before adding the rest to his own. “I would have found it hard to ignore you.”

“Your first season? I presume?”

“Technically,” she said, looking up into his blue eyes. “My family, we just moved to Mayfair. My father came into some money and relocated us here this year, my brother is set to study at Eton in the fall.”

“And you?”

“I am now expected to marry a rich and eligible bachelor,” she laughed into her glass. “Which I really have no problem doing, save for the fact that gentleman is nothing like Mr. Whitehill.”

“Mr. Whitehill is rather rich,” Benedict smirked. “Would that not placate you?”

“And listen to him dribble about Byron? Perish that thought,” she said. “When I do marry, I expect my husband to be of the same mind, a similar taste in the arts.”

“You know,” Benedict nearly whispered, “that is an admirable thought. But how will you find this man?”

She looked him up and down, quickly and all at once, returning to drink from her glass.

“I suppose I will know when I find him,” she smirked.

Benedict smiled back. “Well, please let me know when you do, I feel rather invested in your prospects.”

“You will be the first to know, I assure you,” Miss (Y/L/N) said, nodding her head. “But, if I may be so bold, if you are not currently preoccupied, would you care to further our discussion on Byron? It is hard to find someone who agrees with such a… contrasting opinion of the poet.”

“Why, Miss (Y/L/N),” Benedict finished his glass, offering his arm, “I was afraid you’d never ask.”

—

The gardens on the property were lovely, so lush and full of life. She made good on her promise to keep them well maintained, only keeping the finest blooms and plants in their care. It was always the perfect place to spend time on days like today, sunny, a gentle breeze. 

They had given the governess a day off, her mother had fallen ill, it was the least the Bridgertons could do for her.

“Mother!” 

The lady looked up from her book, eyes meeting with her eldest daughter. Blue eyes, just like her father.

“Yes, darling?”

“Might I go inside to grab other books? Aunt Eloise recently sent some to Father and I want to read them.”

The lady gave her daughter a trying look. “Do you not think they may be above your comprehension level, my love? They were intended for your father, after all.”

“No need,” a looming voice bellowed. “I have them right here.” 

She didn’t need to look up to know who it belonged to. “Benedict, I thought you were spending time in the studio this afternoon.”

“And miss spending time with my darling wife and children?” Benedict grinned, the crooked way she fell in love with. “That seems foolish on my part.”

“Father!” Their eldest exclaimed, running over to the tallest Bridgerton. “You brought the books?”

“Indeed,” Benedict nodded, handing the parcel off to his daughter. “Aunt Eloise thought we may have better use of these than her and Phillip do.”

Their daughter lit up with excitement—ever the reader, she was. It took a village to keep their library stocked with appropriate books for her age, but she was quickly out-reading her entire family’s collection. “Thank you, Father!”

“Well,” Benedict said modestly, “you must write to your Aunt Eloise and thank her, I had little to do with such a gift.”

“What about me, papa?” 

Their son, only a few years younger than their daughter came bounding up past his escaping sister, clearly having been playing in the mud. “Do I have any gifts from auntie?”

(Y/N) opened her arms. “Not this time, sweetheart, but come here, let mama wipe that dirt off of your nose—” 

“No!” He exclaimed, turning from his mother. “Dirt makes me ruggable—like Uncle Colin!”

“Rugged,” Benedict corrected gently. “And, no, dirt makes you dirty. You need to stop spending so much time with Colin…”

“Once baby brother is here I will,” their son nodded, putting both hands on his hips, looking down at his sitting mother.

“Oh darling,” (Y/N) said, trying to raise to her feet. Benedict quickly offered his hands, pulling her up. “Baby will not be here for a few more months.”

“Then more time with Uncle Colin!”

Benedict and (Y/N) sighed, watching their adventurous son run back to the mud. “We must write Colin, tell him of the monster he has created.”

“Our eldest is such an easygoing flower,” Benedict said, noting how she was carefully skimming through the various books on her lap. “Our son tests our patience.”

“And how do you think this one will be?” (Y/N) asked, placing his hand on her swelling stomach. She only had two or so more months until the delivery, if she had been correct on the conception. The latest Bridgerton wedding seemed to be the culprit, stolen kisses and a romantic rendezvous to the greenhouse away from the party—it was a perfect recipe for baby number three. “Calm and collected? Devilish and adventurous?”

“I pray they are just like their mother,” Benedict rubbed her belly affectionately. “And perhaps a bit more behaved than their brother… I suppose I should also write my mother an apology.”

“Whatever for?”

“I reckon my brothers and I acted much like our son,” Benedict said sheepishly. “Acting like Bridgerton boys, I am afraid.”

“As if that is the only explanation,” she giggled, leaning into his side. “But I am sure your mother would appreciate such a gesture. Perhaps you should send her a bouquet from our garden, too?”

“An excellent idea, my love,” Benedict said, pressing a kiss to her temple. “What a brilliant mind you have.”

“Father, Mother!” Their daughter called out, waving them towards her. “Aunt Eloise sent a book by an author I have never heard of before.”

“Oh?” Benedict quirked his brow, walking with his wife over to her. “And what author may that be?”

“A Lord Byron,” she said, showing the book with a deep brown cover to her parents. Benedict scooped the tome quickly from his daughter’s grasp, holding it close to his chest.

“And you shall never read such filth,” Benedict said seriously.

“Oh Benedict,” (Y/N) laughed. “Perhaps we should allow our daughter to expand her mind—come to her own conclusions on the matter? Surely Aunt Eloise meant the gift in kind.”

“Aunt Eloise clearly meant to send it as a cruel prank,” Benedict corrected.

“What is so wrong with that author, Father?”

“A shorter conversation would be what is not wrong with this author,” Benedict said, turning to call his son. The little boy ran over to his father’s side, ever eager. “Take this and bury it, preferably far away from here.” His wife could not stop her laughter, watching their son hurriedly run over to the new rose bushes, making good work at digging a deep enough hole for the book. “You,” Benedict pointed at the girl, “are forbidden to read anything written by that lowly man.”

“Oh Benedict,” (Y/N) admonished, trying hard to stop her laughter, “forbidding her from reading seems silly—”

“Are we not of the same mind on Byron?” Benedict asked. “I rather think that is how we met, is it not, dearest wife?”

She pursed her lips, fighting a smile. “We are.”

“Besides,” Benedict stood a little straighter, “the roses could use a bit more sustenance.”

She could only roll her eyes.

[buzz-in-your-veins]

Oops, did i do that?

Accidentally sending a spicy pic to your crush.

The reader is more fem dressed and has a vagina in this- if you want a part b where they don’t have outfits just let me know!

CW: Gender Neutral reader with a vagina and fem-like fashion, reader wears bras, no mention of having boobs.

Vox

Vox hadn’t known you for very long, you were one of the newer demons working for him. You’d applied for the job a few months ago.

In that time he’d seen you about four times, but he was honestly thinking of promoting you, you were amazing at your job, good with both the data and the customers, the only thing it seemed you couldn’t do, was look at your contacts.

You weren’t working tomorrow, so you’d gone out with your friends, you’d purposefully gone to one of the only clubs in the pride ring that wasn’t owned by a member of the V’s, in an effort not to run into your new boss.

You’d gone all out tonight, spurred on by your friends, see, you had a minor crush on the TV demon, not that you’d ever entertain it. However, your friends had picked your outfit tonight, and you ended up in a gorgeous (if a bit slutty) royal blue dress, sleeveless and short, with a glittery tulle overlay, and some beautiful electric red heels.

You were messing on with your friends in the bathroom, taking photos and just genuinely having fun, already beyond tipsy now. You were sending a photo of you and another friend in the mirror to your group chat, your friend had taken the time you were fixing your hair to add Vox onto the ‘send to’ people, you never noticed.

You also didn’t notice your phone go off when Vox opened it.

If only that was the worst part.

You finished the night absolutely trashed, your friends working together to walk one another home, most living near one another. You, of course, were the odd on out, and the odd number.

You assured your friends it was fine, you lived in VVV tower for Lucifers sake, you’d be fine! Your friends wouldn’t hear it.

One of your friends, less drunk, had messaged one of Velvettes models, whom she used to work with and asked for them to walk you back.

You got back safe and sound, still not having realised you’d sent Vox the bathroom photo, or seeing the demon’s expression as Velvettes model walked you in.

You weren’t quite tired enough to sleep when you were dropped back in your room, so you messed on on your phone for a bit, before undressing. You hadn’t got to taking your make up off or undoing your hair, you’d gotten your dress off, and just.. stopped.

You were in an ethereal lingerie set, clearly made with Vox in mind.

Pretty blue panties hugged your hips, red electric bolts providing straps, the lace comfortable against your pussy, your chest coved with a light blue bralette, lace spilling against your skin, and the most beautiful glitch effect chain snug around your belly.

You matched this with a black thin choker with a hanging blue electric bolt, and posed against your bed, taking a few photos, changing poses and taking more.

Your favourite was one where you were laid flat, the photo taken from above, you could see your entire body, including the heels you still hadn’t taken off, and you were stairing straight at the camera with your painted lips parted.

Satisfied you went to save your photo.

Never noticing you’d sent the same photo to your boss.

Afterall, you hadn’t know to take him off your list.

You were cuddled up asleep, still in the underwear, when Vox opened your photo.

You never noticed the power surge then go out, nor did you notice Vox’s name pop up on your phone.

Angel Dust

Angel had seen you around the hotel more than usual, Charlie said you’d recently quit your job to work for someone else, and it gave you more free time and flexibility.

Angel was happy for you, your boss had been a real price of work.

Still riding the high off getting a better job, you’d invited your friends out clubbing, having received a handsome final salary.

You had chosen to go to Hyper-Tech, one of Vox’s clubs, and one of the best. They had some off the greatest drinks, and, unbeknownst to you, that night they also had Angel Dust dancing.

You friends teased you relentlessly about your crush on the porn star already, and they played this off as purposeful on your part, even though you’d had no idea.

You had started the night feeling confident and pretty in your oulfit, but seeing the spider you felt a flash of self consciousness, after all, your outfit was styled on the spiders own colour theme, an off the shoulder soft pink velvet crop-top, above-knee white loose pleated skirt, and pastel pink heels with a hot pink belt and nail polish.

You friends quickly took care of that, telling you how wonderful you looked, that anyone would be lucky to see you.

And getting you drunk definitely helped, the endless stream of cocktails bought with your money, and eventually dipping into your friends supplies brought on a happy buzz.

They also greatly diminished your ability to think critically.

You never saw how Angel Dust watched you the entire time you were in the club, as you progressively got drunker, to the point Angel was shocked you could still stand, never mind walk.

Your friends however, saw how the renowned demon was watching you with concern and admiration.

They quickly concocted a plan without your input.

Angels set finished around 2 in the morning, he waited in his dressing room for you to leave.

You had planed to walk home with your friends before splitting off to the hotel, but one of your friends changed the plan, stating there was no need for you to walk them home, after all, didn’t you like live in the complete opposite direction? Another friend had ‘needed the bathroom’ and had walked right by Angels door, talking about how you were leaving with the third friend.

As you were arguing about the principle of walking your friends home, Angel Dust came out of club, and said he didn’t mind walking you home, you lived together anyway.

Your friends quickly agreed and left, not allowing you to argue.

The whole walk back you were showered with compliments about your outfit, your dancing, your hair, your ability to drink, everything.

Angel walked you all the way to your room before leaving you.

You started to undress, but decided you wanted a photo for this occasion.

In your underwear, a pretty pale pink push-up bra, and a silky white thong, still in the hot pink heels, you took a photo in the mirror, sat on your knees staring in the mirror.

For some reason, you decided to send that to yourself instead of just saving to camera roll.

Only, you never send it to yourself. After the walk home, Angel had messaged you to sleep well, meaning he was your top contact.

Never thinking to check, you simply threw on a pale pink baby doll, took your heels and make up off, and went to bed.

Alastor

Alastor showing up to help at the hotel had never been in your plan.

The radio demon was always an unobtainable shadow, someone you could safely crush on from your own mind, because he would never be in your reach.

Except..

Now he was.

Now not to be foolish, you had figured from his interactions and reactions that Alastor was most likely somewhere on the Ace or Aro spectrum, and you would never push anything onto him.

But you could never even get close enough to talk to him, never mind ask about the possibility of him being on the spectrum.

So you hid. Everytime Alastor was around, you weren’t.

Alastor was cooking? You weren’t hungry. Al was helping with the daily running? You had work. Alastor was in the library? You didn’t want to read anyways.

Alastor always noticed your absence.

Instead you poured over everything and anything about the radio demon.

When he appeared, what he did, where he could have been in the seven years, his rise to power, his ability’s, his domain, everything.

Your crush on the radio demon was a foolish one, but that didn’t stop you from having it.

From dreaming of picnics and ice cream dates, of long walks down the streets of hell, to him taking you apart with his words alone, voice wrapping around you.

And when he stopped those muggers?

You went weak.

So, yea, your crush was unobtainable, in the highest scene.

You could still dress up though.

And you did, frequently.

In pantsuits of dark crimson, to the bloody scarlet ball gown, for the party.

Alastors eyes never left you that night.

Mostly, it was under your clothes.

Pretty crimson baby dolls. Black lacy thongs. Scarlett bralettes. Everything. Your camera roll was full of photos of yourself in the underwear, posing this way and that, full of imagination and hopes you would never act on.

Oh how you’d positively die if anyone saw.

That didn’t stop you.

Right now you were dressed in a darling crimson corset, embroidered with darker lace, tied tight, paired with dark scarlet panties, pussy damp against the lace as you lost yourself slightly in a fantasy, black heels and a black necklace, you had posed side on to the camera, staring straight ahead, knees folded underneath you and head tilted slightly up, arms held behind your back.

You heard your shutter go off and stood, getting dressed in a black lace camisole, taking of the corset and heels before heading to bed.

Picking your phone up on the way, you saved the photo to your folder.

Surely, you should have expected naming your folder ‘Alastor<3’ to backfire, but..

Maybe this was a Freudian slip?

It’s not like you even noticed you’d sent it, and you were asleep by the time your phone when off.

Lucifer

You’d seen the King of Hell maybe twice, once in passing, and once when he came to the hotel.

It was more than enough for you to crush on the child-like King, falling in love with his attitude and personality, drawn further in by his looks and kindness.

By the time the charity ball came around, you were completely lost for him.

Lucifer showed up in a white suit, not too different from his normal attire, only more fancy, more Kingly, so to speak.

You had taken Angels advice and dressed to impress.

Angel Dust was the only one who knew about the feelings you had for the fallen angel, and he took every opportunity to tease you for it, but he was also your biggest supporter.

You and Angel had knows each other almost as long as you’d been in hell, so his help was soothing for you, and you smiled as the spider laced up the golden gown you’d picked.

It was a golden off-the-shoulder ball gown, with a soft cover of glittery tulle over the top, the skirt flaring out, reaching the floor, covered in rose embroidered embellishments, and paired with bloody red heels, and a glittering clutch.

Charlie had told you all to go all out, and you and Angel did not disappoint.

The two of you descended together, and you caught site of the King before quickly moving your eyes, your blush almost matching your clutch.

Charlie swanned around you, telling you how amazing you looked, and look at your hair!

Angel got you a flute of champagne before leaving you to find Husk.

Traitors.

You walked around the party, dancing with people here and there, doing your best to avoid looking at the King.

You never saw that his eyes never left your form, or how he glared at everyone who touched you.

The king had tried more than once to get close to you, if not to dance with you, to at least tell you how amazing you looked, but you always seemed to move at just the right time.

Charlie had been snapping photos of you the whole night, sending them to her dad, even she saw the two of you pining for one another.

Your flute was never empty, and unfortunately for you, Angel could always recognise when you were about to bolt, and he and Husk would step in to talk to you and prevent it.

Did you mention traitors?

By the time you were finally able to leave, you were definitely tipsy, clutching Angels arm as the two of you ascended the stairs, congratulating yourself on managing to avoid the King.

Angel saw the way Lucifer was watching you, but you didn’t.

By the time you were in your room and Angel had left after unlacimg your dress, ‘we went all blessed with long arms, A——y!’, you wanted a special photo.

So you got ready.

You kept your heels on and striped to your underwear, a strapless golden bra with a red bow in the center, trimmed in lace, and panties to match, also trimmed in lace. You kept the sparkly fishnets on too, and your makeup on, before finiding a pose you liked.

Finally settling on a pose wherein you were laid on your back, your knees up and tilted slightly to the side, one hand on your breast, the other just above your head, and your face tilted towards your phone, positioned slightly higher than you, and just above your head.

You smiled at the photo, and went to save it.

You never looked.

Lucifer had got your number of Charlie to tell you how nice you’d looked. Your response?

A photo.

You were asleep by the time Lucifers own response came in.

Husk

Husk hadn’t taken much notice of you at first, only that you seemed to come and go with Angel, Husk later learned you were Angels shadow so to speak, Valentino payed you prettily just to follow and protect the star.

Husk noticed you more as you came out more without Angel, not being needed as often when you were in the hotel.

You and the barcat had had some quite good conversations, and some even better discussions.

You knew your way around cards that was for sure, and the cat loved talking with you about card tricks.

Sure no one could match him in card tricks, but hearing you talk about them? Something just felt different.

Husk worried about you and Angel a lot, especially when you both came back late, Angel looking trashed, and you looking slightly high on those nights. It took Husk months to realise Valentino was drugging you both, more so Angel. On those nights, Husk would stay up late to make sure you and Angel ate and drank before going to bed.

Husk never brought it up, and Angel didn’t remember, so you never spoke about it. If the cat didn’t want to bring it up why should you?

Husk did notice his favourite snack appearing on the bar in the mornings however.

Your crush on the cat had started before you even began talking to him, but those conversations, the way he treated you, how he never made you seem unimportant, the way he looked after you and Angel after Val had been upset?

You were gone.

And the cat was your new home.

Not that you’d ever tell him of course, you would never risk ruining such a wonderful friendship like that.

Of course, there were also nights like these. When Val needed Angel for publicity, those were the best. You both got to dress up and basically just party, no forced drugs or alcohol, just fun.

You’d dressed in an orange one-shoulder skin-tight slip dress, with a split up-to your thigh, paired with glittery purple heels, a clutch and jewellery, with black card themed earrings.

Husk had seen you just before you got into Vox’s limo and dropped his bottle of cheap alcohol, sending Niffty into a cleaning/laughing fit.

You and Angel didn’t get back until 1 in the morning, both of you slightly buzzed, but pretty much sober, not having been forced to fed any drugs and having eaten at the gala.

Husk had tried to stay up.

You feel deeper when you realised the barcat was asleep at his post because he was waiting for you. Sending Angel to bed, you walked over to the barcat and gently shook him awake, telling him he could go to bed.

From here Husk noticed the earrings, and flushed, jolting backwards and falling.

You giggled a little before apologising for startling him, which he waved off.

He headed to bed and you got back to your room. Taking your dress off you caught sight of your self in the mirror.

Pretty orange panties with a tiny club embroidered in at the side, deep orange plunge bra with a spade on the left cup, purple bracelet, necklace, and shoes, pretty orange make-up, and a heart and diamond earring set.

You needed a photo.

Fussing around a bit you finally settled on a pose with you laying slightly over the end of the bed, head and chest tilted down, knees pulled up to the side, camera angled too capture everything, arms by your head, and full body on display.

You changed into some sleep clothes after the photos, and in your sleepy state sent them to Husk, instead of simply saving them.

You didn’t wake up until well after Husk responded.

Lute.

Lute had noticed you as soon as you’d joined Adam’s ranks.

Of course she had.

You were the prettiest exterminator Lute had had the pleasure of seeing.

She pestered Adam until he agreed Lute could have her own assistant.

That of course, was you.

Lute loved having you work with her.

Yes all your conversations were about work, and you treat her like your boss, not a colleague, but it wa a better than when you weren’t talking at all.

You were still reeling from the change in position so fast, and now having to deal with the angel you were crushing on at all hours of the day?

Your poor heart couldn’t deal.

You were a blushing mess under your mask every time Lute spoke to you, praising yourself every time you got through an answer without stumbling or stuttering on the words.

Your friends were relentless with the teasing, going as far as to create hand signals to tease you even on the training fields.

Regardless you excelled.

You had to be the best.

And so you were.

Lute often asks what fuels you, and you always stumbled through a bullshit answer, never remembering what you’d said before.

You never gave her the same answer.

You couldn’t exactly tell your now boss the reason you did so well was so she would notice you, could you?

Shadowing Lute meant shadowing Adam. He usually left you alone for the most part though.

It meant going to fancy angel party’s. With out your mask.

You forced your friends to help you get ready.

Gorgeous black knee length dress, clinched at the waist, with silvery heels, a silver necklace, a silver clutch, and purple earrings, your hair done all nice and make up to compliment the outfit.

Your friends told you you looked stunning, and when Lute saw you, she had to agree.

You spent the entire party following Lute around, you didn’t know any of the people here and you were anxious.

Lute kept your champagne topped up, eventually switching you to something a little harder when it became clear you wouldn’t settle on the sparkling liquid alone, not used to the alcohol you got drunk fast.

Adam allowed Lute to leave early, so she could take you home.

Lute got you in safely and even placed an aspirin and water on your bedside table, before leaving you, messaging your phone to let you know what’s happened.

Meanwhile, you’d striped down to a gray lacy bralette, with matching high waisted panties, pretty silver heels, make-up still on and earrings still in.

You wanted a photo.

You set your phone up, and posed, on you knees on your bed, heels just visible, leaned back slightly, one hand behind your bed in a stretch and one on the bed, eyes looking just beyond the camaraderie.

Happy with the results, you went to save the picture, instead, sending it to Lute, who opened it as soon as she got home.

Bye the time Lute replied, you were curled up ontop of your covers, heels still on, sleeping deeply.

Feedback is always appreciated <3

If you want more people added feel free to ask and I’ll do a part two!

Comments are my high.

They make me write faster.

~Vyrus

[moonlinos]

Call my bluff, call you ‘babe’

♡ Pairing: Lee Minho × fem!reader

♡ Genre: Childhood friends to lovers, fluff

♡ CW: Implied smut, alcohol consumption. Twenty solid seconds of angst, but it doesn’t even really count. It’s just tooth-rotting fluff.

♡ Word count: 5.5k

♡ Synopsis: Minho has been your best friend since you two could barely form coherent sentences. He was there when your last baby tooth fell, he was there when you failed your high school exams, and he was there as you walked down the aisle.

♡ A/N: This was going to be just word-vomit fluff to make me cry, but I couldn’t control myself and before I knew it there were… so many words.

You were four years old when you met Minho. It was the first day of kindergarten, and you were assigned seats together. The entire day was spent with you chatting to every kid you could reach from your seat while Minho quietly sat painting and doodling by your side. You vaguely remember thinking he was odd and whining to your mom about how your seatmate was boring, and that was why he was the only kid in class you didn’t talk to. She smiled and told you maybe you should make an effort to talk to him. That same day, you racked your little brain for a reason why your seatmate might be so quiet and promptly decided that he was too shy to start a conversation himself. You then asked your mom if the fact that you didn’t talk to him might have made him sad, to which she hesitated, and that was enough to have your bottom lip wobbling.

You remember tears streaming down your cheeks as you frantically sobbed, inconsolable at the fact that your seatmate was sad and that it was partially because of you.

The next day, you asked if Minho would like to use your special glitter pens — you even told him you wouldn’t mind if he used your favorite colors. That was really all that was needed to plant the bud of friendship between you two.

Ever since that day, you two slowly became inseparable.

You attended the same elementary school after begging your parents, writing a very concise list of reasons why you two could not possibly be separated. Reasons such as the fact that Minho still didn’t know how to tie his shoelaces, so it would be dangerous for him to be alone in a new school. Or the fact that you were always losing your gloves, and Minho always carried an extra pair in his backpack just for you, so you would surely catch a cold if you didn’t have him beside you during winter.

All extremely valid reasons.

Minho began walking you home from school when you were both nine years old. He was often left alone due to his parents’ work schedules, which made him become the most street-smart kid in your class. You had to beg your mom for a week, but she ultimately caved in.

Your favorite thing to do on your way home was to stop randomly and doodle on the sidewalk with chalk, with Minho joining you in no time. You even had your favorite little sketching spot — right in front of a nice old lady’s flower shop, where you two would spend far too much time decorating her entrance pavement with flowers, rainbows, and smiley faces. She would later introduce herself to you, Ms. Kim, and would always thank you both with a flower of your choice. You always picked tulips, and Minho always picked daisies.

On one hazy winter day, you and Minho were eager to adorn the flower shop’s entrance with a new set of doodles since the ones you had done just yesterday got covered in snow. As you two did your best to dig through the piled-up snow with your gloved hands, you suddenly felt something hard slide down your throat. Your hands stilled, and you turned to look at Minho with wide eyes.

“What happened?” He asked. “Did you lose your glove in the snow this time?”

You shook your head frantically, careful not to swallow. “Teeth,” you simply said.

Minho looked at you like you were crazy, squinting his eyes as he studied your face. “What?”

You felt tears well up, and he immediately abandoned his mission of shuffling through the snow before pulling you into a big hug.

“Why are you crying? Don’t cry. I hate when you cry, I feel weird when you cry,” He said, but no tears left his worried eyes. Minho never cried, that was something you had learned a while back. 

You, however, cried until Ms. Kim noticed you two from the window, cooing as she approached you two with a gentle smile. You tried your best to explain your predicament. Minho sat with you behind the wooden counter, holding your hand in his, the smell of flowers making everything feel less catastrophic than it did ten minutes earlier.

Ms. Kim explained that you had no reason to cry, as it was normal for kids to swallow their baby teeth. And you remember harshly shaking your head and explaining with a trembling voice that you hadn’t cried because of that. You had cried because that was your last baby tooth, which meant you were officially a grown-up. You didn’t want to be a grown-up. Minho wasn’t a grown-up yet, with his last baby tooth still holding on proudly in his gums. You didn’t want to be a grown-up all alone; it would be terrible and sad.

That afternoon, you two went home together in silence, your respective flowers clutched in your hands. Minho was never good with words. Sadness engulfed him because he couldn’t do enough to make his best friend smile again. What was the point of a best friend if they didn’t make you laugh when you were crying?

Minho walked into school the next day with a proud smile on his face before placing his last baby tooth on your desk. You eyed it curiously, brows furrowed.

“There, I took it off last night,” He simply said. “Now we’re gonna be grown-ups together.”

At eleven years old, your daily after-school video game appointments began.

You had just cut your hair short; a bob you thought looked cute on your favorite singer turned out to be cataclysmically unflattering on you. And, at eleven years old, it was earth-shattering and definitely the end of your life (despite what your mother told you).

You spent every second out in public with your hair hidden by a beanie, hoping it would distract people from your disastrous haircut.

Except it had the opposite effect.

One particular day at school, a boy came up to you simply to inform you that your head looked like a mushroom before running away, laughing with his friends. They were foolish words spoken by a foolish boy, but you were eleven. Once again, earth-shattering and the end of your life.

You avoided everyone the entire day — including Minho, whom you always talked to no matter your mood. You knew you wouldn’t be able to avoid him for much longer, seeing as he walked you home every day, so you simply prayed he wouldn’t notice your puffy eyes or that he at least hadn’t heard any of the other kids making unfunny jokes about your haircut.

After school, Minho sighed in feigned annoyance when you told him you had lost your gloves again before retrieving a pair from his backpack. Like a habit, you asked if he wanted to hang out at your house, although the answer was always unchanging.

“My mom’s baking a cake,” you told him. “We can play video games and then eat it together.”

Minho hummed in agreement, adjusting his backpack before grabbing your hand as you two began your daily walk to your house. It was something you always did, never walking anywhere without your hands clasped together. These past few months, however, this once ordinary gesture had begun making your heart beat faster. You didn’t understand why, and you would rather not think about it because every time you did, the words from your other friends would echo inside your head. Their stories about how they felt their hearts racing when their crush had hugged them or even looked their way, making you question if maybe…

But it couldn’t be. Minho was your best friend. How could he be your crush?

It was another one of those afternoons, your mom busily making you two sandwiches as you and Minho played New Super Mario Bros on your Wii under the blanket fort you always meticulously built. Minho had been acting weird all day — even weirder than you, who had to endure all the asinine jokes and hurtful words from your peers. As you completed the last level for the umpteenth time, saving Princess Peach, Minho all but threw his controller to the side. You turned to shoot him a questioning look, which went ignored as he rummaged through his backpack.

He retrieved a crumpled-up piece of paper, which he promptly gave to you.

You cocked your head, awaiting some sort of explanation, but Minho simply picked up his controller once more and hit play on the game.

Unfolding the paper, words greeted you in Minho’s messy handwriting.

YOUR HAIR LOOKS CUTE. STOP HIDING IT.

Your lips parted slightly, but before you could say anything to him, Minho reached out and snatched your beanie from your head. Your short hair and bangs cascaded onto your face, partially obscuring your view. But you could still make out his side profile, where a faint smile appeared on his lips.

After that, you two were silent for the rest of the day, eventually dozing off under the tent lulled by the sound of your mother’s hand mixer and Mario’s theme song. The sun eventually set outside the window, and you woke up to two plates of your mother’s cake waiting for you on the coffee table.

From that point on, your beanie was left forgotten inside your drawer.

You were fifteen when you realized that perhaps your feelings for Minho weren’t all that platonic after all.

It all started with a letter on Minho’s desk on a rainy Friday. October 25th, Minho’s birthday.

Minho’s quiet nature hadn’t changed one bit since you first sat beside him at four years old. He would rather die than start a conversation, rarely went out to the movies with your friend group and, most importantly, hated being the center of attention. That was why he told no one about his birthday since you two began high school this year. It was the subject of much debate among your little group of friends, with some bribing Minho with his favorite snacks or promising to do his assignments until college just for some sort of clue; a day, month, even the day of the week he was born.

But Minho never budged.

So, seeing a letter on his desk on the day of his birthday was odd, to say the least.

You arrived back to the classroom late after chatting to your friend from another class in the hallway, catching as Minho sat down with a puzzled look on his face and an open letter in his hands.

“What’s up?” You asked, sitting on the desk in front of him.

He looked up, thick glasses crooked from a dodgeball incident earlier that week. “Yumi found out it’s my birthday today,” He informed you, a bit too nonchalantly. “She organized a birthday party at her house tomorrow with our friends.”

You immediately took the letter, reading it and blanching at the words written in the girl’s pretty handwriting. She had found out Minho’s birthday by snooping around Facebook until she found his mother, who had a plethora of pictures of Minho on his previous birthdays. Not only that, the letter ended with a paragraph where she confessed her feelings to him — with all the clichés and dramatics only an adolescent crush could provide.

You still remember your first thoughts upon learning that information: Oh, Yumi. Of course a girl like her would do something like this.

You cringe at your words now, but at fifteen, you deemed no girl worthy of your best friend. Especially ‘girls like Yumi,’ who in your eyes all but threw herself at him. At the time, you thought you were looking out for the boy who was practically your brother. Now, you understand you were simply an insecure fifteen-year-old who allowed ugly, misogynistic thoughts to brew inside your mind out of fear of losing Minho. For your immature brain, every girl interested in Minho was an enemy because they could easily take him away from you.

And Minho had never reciprocated any girl’s feelings, always politely turning down the few confessions he had gotten during middle school. You were ready to berate Yumi, your brows immediately furrowing as your face contorted, but Minho beat you to it, speaking before you could utter a word.

“I know I should be mad, but isn’t it a little… cute?”

You couldn’t help but scoff, the sound escaping your lips like a burst of disbelief. You also couldn’t help how your hands began to tremble as your heart shot up to your throat.

“Cute?” You asked with the strongest voice you could muster. “You think her invading your privacy is cute?”

And Minho simply shrugged, tapping his fingers on his desk. “A little bit. I know you don’t really like her, but she’s part of our friend group,” He said, taking the letter from your shaky hands. “Plus, she’s always been nice to me, and she is cute.”

That was all you could physically bear to hear, excusing yourself from the conversation with the lie that your friend had called you from the classroom window before sprinting out into the hallway. As you continued walking, your palms grew clammy and your heart weighed heavily in your chest.

You felt tears well up in your eyes once you reached the stairs. Sitting on the steps, you cried into the cardigan of your ugly school uniform. You didn’t care that you would be scolded for skipping class; all you cared about was that your best friend was going to be taken from you.

After school, as you and Minho were about to exit the school gates — your hands tightly clasped together as they always were — Yumi appeared carrying a cake, the rest of your friends behind her as they all sang happy birthday. 

Minho blew out the candles and made a wish. Everyone cheered as his best friend, Chan, shoved his face into the cake. Minho yelled at him, grumbling with glasses covered in white frosting, but ultimately laughing along. Yumi was quick to clean his face with a napkin, earning her a smile from Minho before he released your hand to gently squeeze her rosy cheeks.

You remained quiet, forcing out a smile and looking up at the sky every now and then so your tears wouldn’t fall.

All because Minho had let go of your hand.

Minho’s fifteenth birthday — that was the day you learned you could fool everyone else, but never yourself.

Your seventeenth summer was a drag.

Minho had just been broken up with a couple of months before, Yumi crying as she explained her parents wanted her to focus on her studies, and having a boyfriend was simply a distraction she couldn’t afford if she wanted to be a doctor someday. An unwilling participant in the entire situation, you sat awkwardly at the bus stop as she spoke.

You were ready to witness Minho cry for the first time in your life, maybe yell about how unfair her parents were being, but he simply pressed a kiss to her forehead just as your bus arrived.

Not much had changed when he began dating Yumi, with you learning that suppressing how you truly felt was worryingly easy. You still hung out with them, battling through their cuddles and kisses like a soldier on the front lines of a war. Never unscathed, but always strong. Nobody needed to know about how you cried into your mother’s arms almost every night before falling asleep.

The only change had been you and Minho’s daily gaming appointments. You two had since outgrown your video game phase, both now interested in diverging things that made it impossible for you to enjoy them together. You discovered your love for flowers went beyond doodling on the sidewalk in front of a flower shop, but Minho complained that growing flowers was too time-consuming, and he loved dancing, which you were far too uncoordinated and lazy to even try doing.

And so, you two settled for simply hanging out together at your house. Your room had easy access to the roof, which you two took full advantage of, setting up a permanent blanket fort where you would snuggle up with pillows and talk for hours after school.

That summer was no different, with Minho stretched out across the old mattress, watching the light pink sky slowly fade away as night set in while you two busied yourselves talking.

That was the day you finally gathered the courage to ask Minho about his breakup, desperate to understand why he had appeared so unfazed. After the one-year milestone of their relationship in February, you had begun to make peace with the fact that she would probably be around for a while.

Minho shrugged at your question, hands resting on his stomach while he gnawed on his bottom lip. He explained he was sure that he liked her, but it turned out he valued her as a friend much more than as a girlfriend.

You couldn’t help but scoff at the answer. You knew Minho better than you knew yourself at times, which was why you knew he was lying through his teeth.

“Why did you stay so long with her, then?” You questioned, the resentful lilt in your voice a bit too obvious. You cleared your throat before adding, “I mean, you surely didn’t act as just friends.”

“I guess I felt lonely before,” He explained. “I was selfish for staying with her, but I enjoyed having someone. Was especially nice after…” Minho trailed off, dismissively shaking his head, and you remember being close to throwing him off that roof as he kept being so damn enigmatic.

“After what?” You prodded, “Minho, I’m your best friend. What’s the point of us talking if you’re not gonna tell me the truth?”

He turned his head to look up at you, the darkening sky making his eyes gleam as if they held an entire galaxy of stars. You felt that familiar nervousness return.

“It was nice to not be so alone after so many years of pining after someone.”

You cocked your head to the side, and Minho had the gall to chuckle at your puzzled expression. You shook your head, mumbling to yourself that your conversation was pointless if he wouldn’t tell you the whole truth.

Lying next to him on the mattress with a sigh, you could feel the weight of Minho’s gaze on you. You couldn’t bring yourself to move.

You remember the moon was already high in the sky by the time one of you finally moved — Minho, who slowly inched his hand closer to yours before clasping it tightly in his. Despite your racing heart, you thought nothing of it. He was now single, so it wouldn’t be ludicrous to assume a habit you two had cultivated for many years would naturally return.

However, after some beats from your erratically racing heart, Minho’s fingers intertwined with yours. You had never done that before, always holding hands in a way that all but screamed platonic.

That night, with his thumb caressing your skin and his hand squeezing yours, Minho finally spoke the truth after so long.

“It’s you,” He said, tone nonchalant but voice audibly shaky. “Think I’ve been pining after you since I was nine and ripped my tooth out ‘cause I thought that’d make you stop being sad.”

You remember gasping quietly and his hand tightening around yours as the clock ticked and your silence remained. You remember finally mustering up the courage to turn to look at him and being met by an expression you had rarely seen on Minho’s face in the thirteen years you had known him — he was scared, wide eyes dancing around your face as if he looked for an answer in your features, his chapped lips parted slightly as if he was ready to backtrack the moment he saw any hint of doubt in your eyes.

You remember smiling at him and how his expression shifted into pure confusion. All it took was for him to finally have the nerve to hold your hand in the way he’d always wanted to, and for you to use his courage as a catalyst for your own. You remember how you closed the distance between you two and pressed your lips to his. You remember it feeling weird because you were kissing Minho, your best friend.

But you also remember it feeling right because you were kissing Minho, your best friend.

Your transition from being best friends to being in a relationship was easier than you had ever thought it would be — it was also slower than you could have ever imagined.

Minho never asked you out or confessed his feelings beyond what was said on the roof, and neither did you. It was a shared knowledge between you, a silent agreement that didn’t need words — at least for now. The little gestures and subtle changes left no doubt in your minds that you two were, in fact, no longer just friends — like how you began to always intertwine your fingers while holding hands, or how Minho would pull you onto his lap when you hung out with your friends, or how you would rest your head on his shoulder as he played with your hair during lunch break.

Your friends certainly had questions, the confusion written all over their faces easy to read like a book, but you both knew they also understood your relationship without you needing to make a big deal out of it.

You picked him up from dance class every weekend, sometimes arriving earlier just to catch a glimpse of him through the glass door, as Minho insisted he was too embarrassed to dance in front of you.

One day, thoroughly unprompted, he reached into his backpack as you two exited his dance academy and pulled out a yellow tulip. You had furrowed your brows at the sudden gesture, and Minho nonchalantly told you that planting your favorite flower was surprisingly easy. Since becoming teenagers, you had stopped going to Ms. Kim’s flower shop, and you had long forgotten about how you two used to have your own respective flowers back in the day.

It seemed Minho hadn’t forgotten.

That was one thing you had come to know about him only after you began dating. Although he seemed cold and distant on the outside — rarely communicating his feelings through words — Minho secretly kept a mental note of every little detail about the people he cared about, and he unfailingly found a way to communicate his feelings through actions. Such as promptly handing you a brand-new flower he had picked before you even had the chance to mourn your tulip as it began to wilt.

You, on the other hand, had always been the type of person to communicate through words; spoken, written, or read, which is how you began saving your best daisies from the small garden you created in your backyard and practicing your flower arrangement skills exclusively by making pretty bouquets you could gift to Minho (always with little notes hidden among the flowers).

Your once explicitly platonic roof dates also left no room for doubt, as making out under your usual tent became a hard-to-break habit. In fact, that was how your family found out about your relationship. You were eighteen, with graduation just around the corner, when your mother caught Minho kissing you as tears welled up in your eyes at the thought of having to be apart from him during college (although you both knew that would never be the case, as you always moved mountains simply to stay together).

Everything was slow-paced, and neither of you had any desire to rush anything. Once, Minho told you he had waited eight years to finally kiss you, and somehow, that anticipation was what had made it all the more special.

And so, your first proper date only happened six months after your first kiss, and your first fight only happened a year and a half into your relationship. Not to mention your first I love you, which had been a slip-up that happened only in your first year of college after a drunken night with Chan and Minho. Your head on his lap, your tulip nestled among his daisies in a pretty vase on the coffee table as Chan hummed along to some song that came from his phone. You felt as if your entire being was filled with pure gratitude at that moment, and the liquid courage that flowed through your veins only helped you mutter out how much you loved Minho.

He looked down at you, hands cupping your cheeks with a silly smile adorning his face, and simply answered, “Well, I love you more.”

Your carefree attitude toward your relationship was almost a contrast to the one you had with your friendship. You and Minho had met so young that you could never truly pinpoint when you had become such close friends. You always wondered if that was what led you two to be so easygoing with what most people rush into. Things happened when they were supposed to happen.

You remember one of Minho’s new friends, Changbin, asking something about your sex life at some party during freshman year, and you two nonchalantly answering that you didn’t really have one. Your friends’ shock was understandable, but you and Minho only laughed.

Things happened when they were supposed to happen.

It was Minho’s 21st birthday, when your flowers were no longer in bloom, but your love remained blossoming like it was mid-spring. He had, as always, vetoed any and every plan of a celebration suggested by your friends. He opted to stay in with you, cuddling under a blanket fort like you had been doing for so many years. Chan graciously offered to sleep at a friend’s dorm, leaving your small shared apartment just for you and Minho.

He hadn’t planned for anything to happen, and neither had you. You were simply lying together, watching the flickering of the candles you had set up around the coffee table, recounting the innumerable memories you shared when you suddenly felt the earnest, all-consuming need to have Minho as close as possible.

It was clumsy, both of you inexperienced and nervous. Your teeth crashed together and your hands gripped each other tightly, the realization of the intensity of your yearning becoming undeniable. At some point, the entire tent collapsed on top of you, and laughter filled the room for a brief moment before being replaced by your sighs and whispered moans.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was you and Minho.

Graduation day was a blur in your mind.

It had all started with Minho and Chan drunk at eleven a.m., offering you the awful-tasting omelet they had cooked in your cramped kitchen. They then went on to zone out for most of the ceremony after stumbling out of your apartment.

You approached Minho after he was done taking pictures and getting scolded by his family for being drunk on his graduation day, his mother giving you an apologetic look as you whisked him away.

“You’re stressed,” you pointed out.

“Yeah.”

“Me too,” you replied with a sigh, resting against a large tree far enough away from the hustle and bustle of recently graduated students and crying families. “So is Chan. Don’t think I’ve seen him this drunk since Jisung’s birthday party last year.”

Minho chuckled, shifting on his feet and toying with the fabric of his gown. You furrowed your brows; he only ever got fidgety when hiding something. You learned that for the first time when you were thirteen and he had to wait until your birthday to tell you he’d gotten you two tickets to see your favorite band, and again when he had to keep Chan’s then-girlfriend’s plans of asking him to move in together a secret.

“You’re not nervous ‘cause of graduation, are you?”

You remember the way he stilled almost immediately.

“We always tell each other the truth, right?” He asked.

You remember the way your whole world spun as he pulled out a small box from his pocket and how everything seemed to fade into a white mist that surrounded Minho like a spotlight as he proposed to you.

Your wedding was small — both because that was how you had wanted it to be and because of your lack of money for a proper party.

After graduating, Minho became a dance teacher at the academy he attended as a teen, teaching little kids who he said always reminded him of you two. You used the money your parents had saved for you to travel after college to buy the old flower shop that held so many memories from your childhood. Neither of you used your degrees, and neither of you made a lot of money, but you were overflowing with an infatuation for life and a love for each other so great that it made up for any silly inconvenience that dared to come up.

The ceremony was held at a local church — although neither of you was particularly religious, that was the cheapest place available. You opted to walk down the aisle together; hands clasped the way you used to do for many years while walking home from school. Minho held onto a daisy bouquet you made, while you held the single tulip he had picked out for you that day.

“I’m not good with words,” was how Minho began his vows, the glow of the fairy lights and candles adorning the church rendering his attempt at hiding his tears futile. That was the first time you had ever seen him cry in the twenty-one years you’d known him. “But I think that never mattered with you. You know me better than I know myself. Most times, I don’t even have to say a word, and you’ll still understand me. It’s been this way since we were four, and you understood why I was so quiet, and you still chose to be my friend. Thank you for understanding me, and thank you for allowing me to love you. Loving you is what I do best and look how lucky I am; I’ve been able to do it for my whole life.” He then shot you a grin, the back of his hand wiping away your tears. He ended his speech with a line that was so very Minho, thought up with sincerity but spoken primarily to make you smile. “You’ve always felt like home, and I can’t wait to feel that way until we’re both food for the worms to eat.”

You had never cried so much as you did on the day of your wedding — which was remarkable, seeing as you’d been a crier your whole life. You remember the irony of it all; Minho, who had never been good with words, telling you about his love with words that came from his heart and spilled from his lips without any rehearsal, while you were rendered speechless and too emotional to even attempt to form a coherent sentence.

Your wedding vow was a simple, choked-up, “Thank you for being my best friend, Minho.”

Minho carried you home from the church, with your cheeks flushing pink and his smile beaming as your friends made rice cascade around the two of you like snow. It turned out the boy who hated attention didn’t mind the spotlight so long as it meant showing off his love for you.

Your honeymoon was spent in your small house above your flower shop — which you named Daisy’s Tulips — where you cuddled under a blanket fort the entire day, only leaving the comfort of the pillows and fluffy covers well after midnight to adorn the sidewalk in front of your house in a brand new chalk drawing.

“Can you imagine if we never said anything?” Minho suddenly wondered aloud, his chuckle echoing through the quiet street. “We were both pretty good at hiding our feelings for so long.”

And you simply shook your head, painting a daisy with white chalk on the sidewalk. “Minho, I know you. You wouldn’t have let me keep pretending after finding out I liked you too.”

“Who says I would have found out?”

“You said it yourself,” you explained, “I know you better than you know yourself, and that’s reciprocal. You would’ve found out ‘cause I can never hide anything from you.”

And Minho smiled, taking your hand in his just as you were done with your drawing. Your gaze shifted toward him, and you admired the man he had become. From the shy little boy who sat beside you to the quiet teenager with thick glasses to the man he had grown into; you loved every version of Minho you had the privilege to meet throughout your life, and you were certain you would love every new version of him you came to know in the future as well.

“Of course you can’t,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I’m your best friend, aren’t I?” He asked with a grin, and you nodded. He then added, “Thank you for being my best friend.”

♡ taglist: @bloom-ings, @linocz, @farahia, @mirbokk, @jisunglyricist

[novaursa]

Flame Kissed

- Summary: As you and Aegon never had a problem expressing your desires openly, neither did your dragons. And as both of you just tormented the inhabitants of the Red Keep, your dragons kept the whole capital awake for weeks.

- Paring: reader (twin!wife)/Aegon II

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, has same violet eyes as Aegon, and is bonded with dragon called Starfyre. For full chronological order of these works visit my blog. The list is pinned on the top. Or, you can read it as a one-shot.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 1 773

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The evening light filtering through the tall windows of the Red Keep. Your shared laughter filled the room as you playfully pushed him onto the bed. His platinum blond hair, tousled and wild, framed his handsome face, and his eyes, the same striking violet as yours, glowed with mischief and desire.

"Y/N, you can't just pounce on me like that," Aegon teased, though he made no effort to push you away.

"You love it when I do," you retorted with a smirk, leaning in to press a soft kiss on his lips.

He groaned appreciatively, his hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you closer. "Gods, I do. What would I do without you?"

"Be bored out of your mind," you quipped, your fingers tracing the familiar lines of his face.

Aegon’s touch was fire against your skin, his lips tracing a path down your neck now, setting your nerves alight. The world beyond your chambers ceased to exist, lost in the fervor of young love and unrestrained desire.

"Y/N," Aegon whispered, his breath hot against your ear, "do you think they'll hear us again?"

You laughed softly, the sound mingling with the distant mating roars from the Dragonpit. "Only if we’re louder than Starfyre and Sunfyre."

His eyes sparkled with determination, and he pulled you closer, his hands roaming with a possessive hunger. “A challenge, then?”

Before you could respond, his lips claimed yours with a fervor that left you breathless. Your bodies entwined, you gave yourselves over to the heat of the moment, each touch and kiss a testament to the connection you shared. 

The two of you lost yourselves in each other, your movements becoming more urgent, driven by the undeniable bond. The heat between you was mirrored by the dragon fire coursing through your veins, the primal connection of your dragons, Starfyre and Sunfyre, heightening your senses.

Just as your passion reached its peak, the door to your chambers burst open. You barely had time to pull a sheet around yourself before Tyland Lannister stood gaping at the doorway, his face a picture of shock and horror.

"My apologies, Your Grace, I—" Tyland stammered, his cheeks flaming as red as his house's banner. He quickly averted his eyes, but not before muttering, "The dragon cries, the city can't find any sleep for days now... Queen Alicent wanted me to inform you..."

Aegon, always the quicker thinker, burst into laughter, his voice rich and full of amusement. "Tyland, you have the worst timing imaginable."

"Clearly," Tyland managed, his voice strained and his eyes widened further, if that was even possible, and he turned on his heel, muttering under his breath about the improprieties of royalty. “I’ll… I’ll leave you to it, then,” he stammered, practically tripping over his own feet as he fled.

As soon as the door closed behind him, you and Aegon erupted into fits of laughter, the awkwardness of the moment melting away. “Well, that’s one way to scare a Lannister,” Aegon says as he pulls you back to him, his hands sliding beneath the sheet to find your skin once more.

"Where were we?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Right about here," you replied, your own hands eager to resume their exploration of his body.

Tyland Lannister hurried through the corridors of the Red Keep, his face still flushed from the scene he had stumbled upon. He took deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart. The sound of the dragons' mating cries echoed in the distance, a constant reminder of the intense bond shared by Starfyre and Sunfyre, and by extension, their riders.

Reaching the king’s chambers, Tyland paused to compose himself before entering. Inside, King Viserys lay on his bed, looking pale and frail, with Alicent and Grand Maester Orwyle attending to him. The room was heavy with the scent of medicinal herbs and the tension of unspoken worries.

"Your Grace," Tyland said, bowing deeply. "I bring news."

Alicent turned her sharp gaze on him, her brow furrowing. "What is it, Tyland? And why do you look so flustered?"

Tyland cleared his throat, struggling to find the right words. "I went to fetch Prince Aegon and Princess Y/N, but... they are currently indisposed."

Viserys coughed weakly, his voice barely a whisper. "Indisposed? Explain yourself, Tyland."

Tyland shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Alicent, whose eyes had narrowed even further. "I found them... together, Your Grace. In a rather... intimate situation."

Alicent's lips pressed into a thin line, her annoyance palpable. "This is hardly the time for such distractions. The entire capital is on edge with those dragons of theirs. It’s been a week of incessant noise, and now this?"

Viserys managed a weak smile, his eyes glazing with a hint of amusement. "Young love," he murmured. "At least they are well-matched."

"Well-matched or not," Alicent snapped, "they have responsibilities. We cannot afford for them to be so... preoccupied, especially now."

Grand Maester Orwyle stepped forward, his expression grave. "The king's health is of paramount concern. Prince Aegon and Princess Y/N must be made aware of the urgency of the situation."

Tyland nodded, still feeling the lingering embarrassment of his earlier encounter. "I will speak with them again, Your Grace."

"No need," Viserys said softly. "Let them be, for now. They will come when they are ready."

Alicent huffed, clearly dissatisfied. "Very well, but they should be reminded of their duties."

As Tyland bowed and exited the chamber, the sound of the dragons outside seemed to grow louder, their cries a reminder of the powerful connection that mirrored the one shared by Aegon and Y/N. The whole of King’s Landing was indeed on edge, the unrest within the castle walls reflecting the unease of the city below.

Back in their chambers, you and Aegon lay entwined, the earlier intrusion by Tyland a distant memory as you lost yourselves in each other once more. Aegon’s fingers traced idle patterns on your skin, his breath warm against your neck.

"Do you think Tyland will ever recover from his shock?" Aegon asked with a chuckle.

You laughed softly, your fingers running through his hair. "He might need some time. But we should probably make an appearance soon."

Aegon sighed, his hold on you tightening. "I know. But for now, let’s just stay like this a little longer. The world can wait."

You nodded, closing your eyes and savoring the warmth of his embrace. For a few precious moments, the worries of the world faded away, leaving only the love and passion that bound you and Aegon together. 

A week later, the dragons' cries had finally ceased, bringing a blessed silence to the Red Keep. The sunroom, bathed in morning light, was a tranquil haven where you and Aegon enjoyed a leisurely breakfast. You sat comfortably in his lap, sharing food and laughter, the ease of your affection evident to anyone who might see.

Aegon's fingers lazily traced lines on your thigh as he fed you a piece of fruit, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I think I could get used to this," he murmured, his voice a low purr.

You chuckled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I’m sure you could. But we both know we have duties to attend to eventually."

Just then, Tyland Lannister appeared behind the servants, his expression a mix of determination and apprehension. Aegon’s gaze flicked up, and he grinned, his amusement clear. "Well, if it isn’t our dear friend Tyland. Come to join us for breakfast?"

Tyland cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly. "Your Highnesses, I, uh, need to speak with you both."

"Do you now?" Aegon replied, his tone light. "Well, don't just stand there. Have some breakfast first. We wouldn’t want you fainting from hunger, would we, Y/N?"

You smiled, playing along. "Of course not. Please, sit, Tyland."

Tyland hesitated but ultimately sat across from you, trying to maintain his composure. "Thank you, Your Grace. But I’m here on a matter of importance."

Aegon raised an eyebrow, his hand never leaving your thigh. "Importance, you say? Do tell."

Tyland struggled to find his words, clearly flustered by your and Aegon’s casual intimacy. "The Queen has requested that I remind you both of your responsibilities. The King’s health is fragile, and your presence is required more frequently at court."

Aegon leaned back, his expression one of mock seriousness. "Responsibilities, hm? And here I thought my only duty was to ensure my dear wife’s happiness."

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, leaning into Aegon. "It seems we’ve been neglecting our duties, my love."

Tyland’s face grew redder by the moment, his discomfort evident. "Your Highnesses, this is no laughing matter. The Queen is quite insistent that you both... focus."

Aegon’s eyes twinkled with defiance as he picked up another piece of fruit, offering it to you. "Did you hear that, Y/N? We need to focus. Perhaps Tyland has a point. Maybe we should focus on finishing our breakfast first."

You took the fruit from Aegon’s fingers, your gaze never leaving his. "I think that’s an excellent idea."

Tyland groaned inwardly, running a hand through his hair. "Please, Your Highnesses, I beg of you. The King’s condition is worsening, and the Queen is at her wit’s end."

Aegon’s demeanor softened slightly, though his playful spirit remained. "Alright, Tyland. We understand. We’ll make more of an effort to be present. But you must admit, we’ve earned a bit of time to ourselves, haven’t we?"

Tyland sighed, seeing a glimmer of hope. "Yes, Your Highness. But please, remember your duties. The realm depends on it."

Aegon nodded, his tone becoming more serious. "We will, Tyland. You have our word."

Relieved, Tyland stood to leave. "Thank you, Your Highnesses. I will inform the Queen."

Aegon’s playful mood returned, and he leaned in to whisper something in your ear that made you giggle. Tyland cleared his throat again, looking as if he might bolt from the room at any moment.

“Is there anything else, Tyland?” Aegon asked, his tone dripping with faux innocence.

Tyland shook his head quickly. “No, Your Grace. That will be all.”

As Tyland hurried out of the room, Aegon’s laughter filled the space. “Poor Tyland. I think we may have traumatized him.”

You smiled, turning to kiss Aegon softly. “We should probably behave, at least a little.”

Aegon sighed dramatically. “If we must. But only for you, my love.”

The two of you continued your breakfast, the weight of your responsibilities momentarily lightened by the shared laughter and love that bound you together. The sunroom seemed brighter, the food tasted sweeter, and for a little while longer, the world outside could wait.

[loaksbitch]

this time it’s different, imagine neteyam knelt in front of you and begging you not to go after he betrayed you? c’mon now guys i can’t be the one who’ll only suffer with this idea that struck me 😕 — wc is 2.6k !!

warnings - vulgar language, neteyam cries you guys NETEYAM CRIES!! my poor baby. oc gets/feels betrayed, one slap mention, where neteyam who is the mighty future leader of the clan kneels in front of you and begs for forgiveness, he fucked up :(

like and reblogs are appreciated! i love you guys so so much and this is 1.2+ followers celebrating gift <3

“i trusted you.” — neteyam sully (★)

part (two) — (three) — (four) of this series.

the na’vi females are gathered to spend time together and talk teas while their significant others and soon to be mate left for a war party. you on the other hand being one of them, or so you thought as you all laugh and bring the old moments or funny moments you all had

“…and that’s how i met tar’key” one of the female navi blushes as she tells her story of how she met her mate years ago.

“that’s so heartwarming, oh mother eywa!” the other females giggle and awe. you’re silently sat as you try to ignore some of the noisy na’vi’s whispering until they mention the soon to be olo'eyktan and your ears perk up

“have you heard about the first born of the sully family being set up for a mate?”

you’re somehow confused and excited when they mention about mating because you knew it was going to be you. neteyam was going to be mated with you.

“yes! and i’ve heard she’s so pretty as to very similar to her mother’s beauty.” the other whisper

her mother? you never had a mother growing up…

“she’s so lucky, honestly imagine being the future mate of the future olo’eyktan? so dreamy.” the girls sigh imagining it and let a soft giggle out. you’ve frowned as you try to thinking deeply and try to make sense in what just the na’vi girls said

the female clan keeps murmuring and talking as they make friends with huge circle and a wooden fire in the middle of the circle, while you’re trying to put pieces together.

what do they mean “beauty of her mother.” when you didn’t even have one? neteyam and you were soon to be mated, yes you knew that and he told you he only wants you in his future but what the girls talked about was another completely different person

you wanted to run to neteyam and ask what you’ve just heard but he wasn’t near by, he has already left to the war party right after he made love to you as a good bye the whole night, you were crying mess being of how you loved this man as he cradled you to his body and held you tight.

you’re confused and somehow trying everything but decide to eavesdrop to what the two females are talking. “i haven’t seen her here, did she not want to join us?” the one asks before the other scoffs,

“of course she won’t, after all she’s the future leader of the omatikaya clan.” the other states, now you’re feeling way too desperate to know about her but it’s breaking your heart to figure out it’s not you

and this means? neteyam lied to you.

“never mind, let’s just get back to what we were list– oh mother eywa! she’s here! she’s here!”

your heart starts to beat faster as your eyes look around to know which one is the so called future leader of the clan. “which one? i see two girls standing!?” the females arch their neck to see more and the other pointing out makes you know who exactly they’re talking about

your heart doesn’t just entirely break one piece following the other, everything around you was blurry. you needed to leave right now.

“excuse me,” you stood up as you made your way out. the na’vi’s asked if you’re okay but you just shrugged them and told them you’re feeling sick.

once you stumbled your way out and walked far enough from the na’vi’s, you finally find yourself on the trees of sounds. where your lover and you exactly made love. of course you two were gonna be mated and doing the deed didn’t bother you at that time but right now?

right now you’re feeling the burning of your skin where neteyam exactly placed kisses and his skin touched you. your whole body felt dirty right the moment you figured out you’ve been… played.

now everything started to make sense, why neteyam always feared of you both getting caught, why he didn’t want you to meet with his family, why he never… a soft sob leaves your lips as your eyes close.

of course that na’vi was better than competed to you.

beauty? her. body? her. has a family? her. everything? her. your jaw clenched as you feel so foolish for blindly trusting a man… a fucking man.

the pain you’re feeling doesn’t compare to when you felt right after your mother abandoned you. this was making you struggle with breathing, your lung tightening with every try you’re making to let air in.

what did you do wrong to deserve all of this?

you’ve really been fooled, you knew everything was too good to be true. you’re now realizing how stupid you were to think the future olo'eyktan mating with some abandoned and adopted daughter who only served as a professional arrow shooter.

“eyaw, it hurts.” you cry, tears freely rolling down your skin. you cry to your mother nature your heart out as everything of this place reminds you of him.

you want to hate him but no, it only keeps hurting to even think about hating him. neteyam was everything to you while you’re nothing to him, you were ready to throw everything from him but he only used you and backstabbed you

meanwhile you’re crying your heart out to eywa, the clan has returned from the war party with few people hurt and non dead. neteyam was happy and eager to tell you the war went so perfect like it was planned. no death and few people hurt but his eyes keep wandering trying to find you

a tint of disappointment settles in him when he realized you weren’t there, but you promised you would watch him from far so the na’vi won’t be suspicious about you two. at least until he makes it official, and today is the day he will make it official to his parents you’re the one he wants

oh how he was so late for this.

neteyam figures out you weren’t anywhere here so he just shrugs his parents and tells them he needs air for a while. obvious that they’re proud of him today, jake didn’t bother and already shrugged his son off

neteyam tries to hide his excitement when people greet him as he made his way to your hammock.

eyeing the na’vi’s and once he checked no one is watching, he slipped in but was greeted with no warmth or scent of your body. “princess?” he calls for you but nothing talks to him back

frowning, neteyam leaves you hammock and climb down to think where you could possibly be. it doesn’t take him long to figure out where you are and jogs to the destination he thinks you’re found.

and just like he thought your body comes to his sight as you’re stood in front of the tree of sounds, your back facing him.

neteyam chuckles as he walks to you before wrapping his arm on your body and pressing himself to your warmth.

you in other hand feel your body tense with his skin touching yours. “i’ve missed you” he groans to your hair as he place kissed on the back of your head then to your neck. you don’t even try to say it back or turn around to hug him.

neteyam does fail to notice your odd behavior and step back a little giving you space to turn around to him but you’re just frozen. “princess?” he calls for you but you just try your best to compose yourself from falling apart

the man in front of you feels his inside worry before he’s forcing you to turn around and face him.

but what he was met with was what he never expected. you eyes are swollen and puffy like you’ve been crying for hours, “who did this to you?” was the first full sentence neteyam utters and you ironically scoff at his words

it was him, he was the one who did this to you.

he tries to cup your cheeks to his large palm but you step back as if his touch disgusts you. and in fact, it does disgust you right now. you know you’ll run back to him if he touches you and you’re not allowing that

“baby?” his breath hitches when you avoid his touch and his brain instantly start to figure out you’ve already found out but neteyam chooses to ignore it until you say it yourself

he tries again by stepping close to you but you were fast to speak. “is it true neteyam.” it wasn’t a question and the way you called his name darkly makes his heart hurt and tell him you’ve definitely had found out.

but he chooses to play dump.

“what is true, princess?” those pet names makes your stomach irrupt in nausea and you shake your head. “don’t call me that, i’m not your princess, never have been your princess.” the way you say it calmly scares him

sure thing neteyam fell for your calmness and mature self but right now he wishes you could just punch him or yell at him.

you’re trying to stay calm before slowly opening your mouth to speak. “you have a…” you can’t even finish the sentence feeling your throat close in pain. he again tries to play dumb but this time you hiss at him silently.

talk about happiness? it can vanish in a heartbeat.

the atmosphere as changed to a heavy one as neteyam watches your broken self in front of him.

“yes.” those three letters were enough to entirely ruin you. you stumble on your own feet feeling dizzy, neteyam tries to hold you from falling only for you to slap his hands away.

“look at first it was just a rumor but then my parents and her parents set us up, set me up.” neteyam starts to try explaining but it only hurts you more. neteyam watches your tears fall and his heart bleeds out, he really wanted to tell you

“i never loved her, i never want to be with her, i never want äeya.” neteyam steps closer, “i want you and you only” you’ve heard the name before, so many times actually that you grew up wanting to be äeya so bad.

the daughter of the tshaik that’s the perfect daughter from the clan and it didn’t surprise she had to be mated with him. what hurt you was him lying and leading you to his great fucked up game.

“i fall in love with you princess, i love you so much it always hurts.” you’re painfully silent and it eats him alive as he desperately seeks for something in you. “i trusted you..” you back away, his touch bringing nothing but pain

if someone from yesterday came to you and told you that this would happen, you would’ve shot your arrow at them but again look at you desperate for things your lover was saying were to be lie.

“with you— princess please.” neteyam doesn’t know why he’s pleading but he knows he wants to wipe those tears and take your pain away. “don’t touch me.” you warn when his fingertips held your small hands

“DON’T TOUCH ME!!”

neteyam froze at his spot, his tail locked between his legs. this was the first time you yelled at him, the first him he heard your true pain through your voice. “i hate you! i hate you! i. hate. you.” neteyam’s ears flatten at your words that were like daggers to his heart.

“don’t say that, please don’t say that baby, please.” he was begging you now. neteyam always chose death than being despised by you.

“you knew the whole time, neteyam” you’re saying it so clam and softly it’s making him feel like he deserves death and every painful torture to be done to him. “i told you i have no one and you were the only person i trusted with my everything and you were the only one i have.” you’re now crying

“how could you do this to me?”

how could he do this to you?

neteyam licks his lips and sniffles, he nods agreeing with you. “i was gonna make it official, today i was going to tell them you’re mine and i’m yours” your eyes widen but you quickly shake them off, you shake your head disagreeing with him

“i’m not yours.” the way you said it was not with in an anger but pure honesty, hatred and disgust. neteyam’s breath hitches again and his eyes start to whelm. “i was never yours.”

you were his, you promised yourself to him last night as he did, you were his first time and first person in everything. you were his future and his own actions took his future away from him.

neteyam could only watch your broken self in yourself and did nothing, the little abandoned girl you’ve hidden coming out and telling him everything last night before making love completely gone. he was met with your side he never thought he would see

“i’ll never be yours.” you knew your words hurt him and you definitely wanted them to just like he’s hurting you

neteyam suddenly kneels in front of you and pulls you by your hips, wrapping his arm on your waist and pressing his face to your stomach to hide himself from reality. “i never wanted you to find out this way, please let me make it right. let me make everything right, please princess.”

he doesn’t care you warned him not to call you that, no matter how hard you try not to be? you’ll always be his princess. you’re just frozen there with the man you trusted giving your soul to just take everything from you wrapped around you.

“let go of me.” you tell him and silently pray he does or you’ll kneel and hug him back.

neteyam’s body shake as he is now violently crying himself in front of you and you’ve never seen him like this. “neteyam, please let me go.” you try but no answer, only whimpers and sobs from the man knelt and face pressed to your tummy are heard

you purse your lips and place your hands on his hands to pry them from you. “please don’t do this” neteyam was the one begging. “we both are promised to one another last nig–“ you cut him off.

“there was nothing last night, last night was nothing but a mistake i did.” your words not only emotionally but mentally affect neteyam. once you start to leave with no words, neteyam panics and get on his feet quick

“you’re not leaving me…” he didn’t know the damage he caused until he realize he’s losing you. you ignore him and walk away but neteyam was fast to hold you by your hands making you turn and slap him across the face

you hate yourself for doing that but you hate him most for making you do that. “i said don’t touch me.” you say coldly, you’re now the woman he never knew. “and if you dare to try to come close to me again, neteyam,” your soft voice he knew wasn’t there, “i will kill you.”

you’re not just threatening a normal na’vi but the actual future olo'eyktan and you don’t feel a slightest fear when you do. “and trust me when i say that.” your words were familiar just like the first time he met you.

cold and unbothered of anything.

neteyam doesn’t say anything when you turn and leave but once you’re slightly far, your face turns ugly mess as you cry.

neteyam’s ears are still flattened as his tail is locked between his legs. right the moment you were out of sight, neteyam felt his world darken and went grey and gloomy. nothing would be the same with out you every again.

it was his fault this happened, he abandoned you just like your mom and everyone else. you hate him now and nothing’s gonna be the same. “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry” he whispers as he’s standing right where you left him. right where you promised yourself to him last night. right where you gave yourself to him.

right where you trusted him.

i might make this a miniseries? i don’t know lmk in the comments though i’ll depend on my creativity and flow of plot,, i love each and everyone of you!! like + reblog are appreciated and not pressured

[navybrat817]

Pencil You In

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky thinks you've been working too hard and need a break. Word Count: Over 1.3k Warnings: Fluff, crying, reader is tired, slight insecurities, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Partially inspired by an image the beautiful @bucksangel sent me and life stretching me a bit thin, here's a little ficlet. Lovelies, take breaks. You deserve them and you are more than enough! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You slumped in your chair of your home office as you reread the sentence on the screen for what felt like the hundredth time. Weariness had already settled deep in your bones long before you looked over the document, the words blurring together the longer you stared. Blinking a few times didn’t help as you reached for your mug, only to remember that you had finished your extra helping of caffeine an hour ago. Begrudgingly, you set it down and huffed as if it was somehow the fault of the cup that it didn’t automatically fill itself.

“Almost done,” you whispered to yourself, straightening up so you could do one last readthrough.

It was a long week in what felt like a series of long weeks. Almost every minute of your schedule was accounted for lately and all you wanted to do was relax. People were depending on you though and you could relax over the weekend.

Hopefully.

“You should take a break.”

You didn’t turn around immediately at the sound of Bucky’s gentle voice, but you did manage a smile when you glanced over your shoulder a moment later. He didn’t return the smile, concern swirling in his blue irises. You were afraid to stare into the pool of his eyes for too long out of fear of drowning.

And, god, you were drowning. It would be so easy to reach out and take the lifeline that was his hand. To just admit that you need some time to rest because you were tired. Hadn’t you earned it? Didn’t you deserve a break after the hard work you put in?

But maybe you didn’t deserve it. What you did wasn’t as important as someone like Bucky. You firmly shut the door on that thought before the words could make their way out of your mouth. If he could’ve read your mind and known you thought that, it would’ve disappointed him. Not in you, but whoever made you decide that what you did wasn’t enough.

Because you were always expected to do and be more.

“I will in a few minutes,” you said.

He let out a heavy sigh as he crossed his arms, making you tear your gaze away. You didn’t comment on his disheveled hair, like he kept running a hand through it. Likely because he worried about you stretching yourself too thin. “That was what you said a few minutes ago,” he reminded you, his voice light instead of accusatory.

You shut your eyes in the hopes that the tears wouldn’t come and took a breath. “I really will this time,” you promised, giving the document one last readthrough once you got your emotions under control.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he said.

If you wouldn’t take a break for your own sake, you had to do it for Bucky.

“Okay. I think that’s at a good stopping point,” you said, making you saved it before you closed it out. If you lost all of that after everything you put into it so far, you would’ve lost it. Before you could move to the next task on your list though, an alert popped up on your screen. Your heart dropped to your stomach because you didn’t remember scheduling anything else today. You didn’t have the mental or emotional capacity for more. “What is this?” You mumbled before you opened it.

Reading the subject line, you did a double take.

CUDDLE WITH BUCKY

You covered your mouth to smother your giggles. “I don’t remember scheduling this meeting.”

“It’s a good thing I remembered, baby,” he said as you spun around in your chair, sauntering over to you with a smirk as you tried not to laugh again. “It’s a mandatory meeting in our bed. No rescheduling. And I expect it to go the full hour. Maybe longer.”

“How did you manage to set up an alert on my computer?” You asked as he grasped your hands and helped you to your feet, having to steady yourself a bit when your head spun.

At least you remembered to eat. Well, that wasn’t technically true. Bucky brought you your meal earlier because he was the best boyfriend you could ask for.

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” he winked before he brought a palm to your cheek, his gaze shifting to something more serious. “But it seemed to get your attention.”

Your cheeks burned as you averted your gaze. “I wasn’t…” you trailed off, an apology on the tip of your tongue. Had you neglected him this past week? Or the ones before that?

Did he think you were a bad girlfriend?

Bucky slid his hand to your chin so you’d look at him again. “Hey,” he whispered when your lower lip trembled. “I didn’t mean anything by that and I’m not upset with you. I don’t think I could ever be upset with you. But, baby, you’ve been working your ass off even more than usual. I’m so fucking proud of you, but you need to take a real break.”

Your eyes burned, but no tears surfaced as he searched your gaze. “But-”

“What is it you always tell me about work?”

“That it’ll be there tomorrow, but we may not be” you answered, sighing. He was right. You couldn’t let work and expectations others set for you take control of your life. “I told you that the last time you ran yourself ragged with missions.”

He brought his mouth to your forehead to kiss it, his scruff tickling your skin. “And now I’m returning the favor,” he said against your skin. “So, come to bed. Lay with me. Just…”

“Be present,” you finished.

No phones. No work. No outside forces interfering. Just the pleasure of being with each other.

“Exactly,” he said, tugging you by the hand. “C’mon. We’re both late for our meeting.”

“Yes, Sir,” you teased, smiling when he groaned.

“This is a cuddle meeting, but it’ll turn into gently fucking you to sleep if you keep talking like that,” he warned you, pulling you to bed a bit faster.

“You say that like that’s a bad thing,” you smiled, gasping as he gently pushed you onto the mattress.

He braced a hand on each side of your head as he leaned down, his breath fanning your face when you whimpered. “Sex after we cuddle,” he breathed, sending a shiver down your spine. “Then we can cuddle again.”

You leaned up to brush your lips against his. “Deal,” you agreed.

Once he maneuvered you to the middle of the bed, his large body spooning yours, you couldn’t stop the tears that came. You bit your lip so he wouldn’t hear your soft sobs, but he must’ve sensed them as he grazed his nose along your neck affectionately and pulled you closer in his arms. You didn’t realize just how much you needed to be held until then.

It was as if all the stress faded away.

“I really am proud of you. Hardest working woman I know and always taking care of me,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your pulse as more tears hit the pillow.

“Because I love you, Bucky,” you whispered. Who wouldn’t want to take care of someone as amazing as James Buchanan Barnes?

“And I love you, too. So much,” he swore to you, turning you in his arms so he could kiss the tears away. The first kiss lingered on your cheek as he let out a shuddering breath. The sight of you crying likely broke his heart, but he didn’t say anything about it for your sake. “So let me be your personal hero today, okay? Let me take care of you and show that you’re more than enough.”

The words were so heartfelt and touching that you were surprised you didn’t melt on the spot. “You already are,” you promised before his lips met yours.

And he could pencil himself in for cuddles and more whenever he wanted.

I'll say it again, lovelies, you deserve breaks and you are more than enough. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[awniie]

AT LEAST LOOK AT ME WHEN YOU LIE

ᣞ ⊹ ݁ summary: your boyfriend suguru finds the best way to punish you !!

꒰ content: mean!sugu, fem!reader, pussyslapping, praise/degradiation, cum denial, feel like this whole thing is kinda a niche kink

ㅤㅤㅤ⭑ notes: my ‘mean suguru’ drabble was based on this so if some stuff sounds familiar it’s cus i took this n drabble-fied it; also this is for the anon who asked for it <33 ALSO @d0nk3y-k0ng my new-found geto fixation is your fault <33

“Suguru, can you help me?…this thing is too heavy!” you called out, voice straining as you struggled to bring the giant cardboard box through the door. It was way too heavy for you, and of course the delivery people had quickly set it outside the door, escaping the potential work of having to bring it inside. Your boyfriend quickly rushed to your aid, grabbing the opposite side of the box. “I got it baby, where did you wanna put it again?” Suguru asked, setting the box against the wall and looking at you.

“I wanted to put it in the living room. That way it’ll be the most accessible.” You told him. You two hand just moved into your new place and decorating was the sole thing on your mind. You spent hours on pinterest, trying to find the perfect aesthetic for your new home. You valued your home,so much so that you started repeating all those cringey aphorisms whenever you were questioned about your new-found obsession.

“Home is where the heart is, sugu.” You told him. He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Okay, but what does that anything to do with spending $100 on a house plant?” You let out a sheepish laugh. “Well…I can take care of the plant. Which takes heart…?” You murmured. It was an inane suggestion, which was appropriate for the circumstance of spending $100 on a plant. “Sounds a bunch of bullshit to me.” Your boyfriend told you. He was necessarily happy with all the money being spent on what seemed like superficial things, he seemed to be happy with the results of your decorating.

It took about 30 minutes to situate this new mirror, but for good reasons. It was big, like really big. Leaning, it was taller than you and almost as tall as your 6’3 boyfriend. It was wide as well, providing a perfect view of anyone who looked into it. It was a gorgeous peice of furniture. The frame was a creamy white, with ornate molding. There were carefully crafted swirls and curves on it, with tiny clay embellishment. It had looked like something out of a fairytale, like a mirror that could reveal the deepest desires of whoever dared look inside. It was perfect for your new house, the only thing that wasn’t so perfect was the extravagant price. Your jaw almost dropped when you saw the cost. No way in hell would Suguru let you buy it, no matter how much you beg or how many tears you spill.

So you searched for alternatives. Any sort of duplicate or listing on another site would be scouted out and search throughly before you succumb your wallet to $2,500. You must’ve been god-kissed that day, as the only cheaper listing was $1,700. Still, it wasn’t something you felt 100% sure about buying, but what other options were there? Suguru would be proud of you for finding a cheaper offering and thinking about a budget. So, you went ahead and bought it, feeling pretty proud of yourself for doing so. Did you tell Suguru about the purchase? no way. You’d only tell him if he asked, and you prayed with all your heart that he wouldn’t.

“Sooo…do you like it?” you asked him hopefully. Maybe he would say yes and then move on to something else, and not ask that dreadful question. Maybe, when you told him about the bargain you made, he’d be proud of you for your efforts. “Mhmmm, t’s real pretty.” He put his hand on his chin, as if thinking. “How much did we pay for this again?” Suguru asks, stepping back and giving it an appraisal.

Shit. It was silent for a good 10 seconds. You could feel the way your words dried up on your tongue and died, as if they were too scared to come up. He raised an eyebrow and asks again, looking at you through the reflection of the mirror. “How much did we pay for this thing?” Stil not answer. He came up behind you, snaking one arm around your waist, while his open hand went to your chin. “Baby, you gon’ answer me?” His ghostly purple eyes searing yours through that cursed mirror.

…

“I-I just forgot to tell you-…!” you whined, legs buckling as you felt another sharp stinging sensation land on puffy clit.

“Oh, you did?” Suguru asked facetiously. You nod and cry as you feel another slap land on your clit. He then grabs your face with his hands, holding your cheeks between his slick-coated fingers. “At least look at me when you lie, baby.” He said as he guided your face in the mirror.

This was humiliating. He had you spread out on the floor, pussy glistening and your back pressed up against his chest. He had took upon himself to punish you, which subsequently turned into something lewd and twisted. Hence the being sprawled out, leggings and panties long discarded and receiving countless slaps on your cunt. It was painfully obvious that he was hard, feeling his length that was being squashed up against your ass. Your hair was messy and out of place, your skin sticky while drool and tears coated your chin. The worst part? He was doing this right infront of the new mirror and he wouldn’t even let you look away, so you were forced to fully embrace your current state.

“Please sugu. I didn’t mean too…just lemme cum please? You begged, your voice shaky and full of hiccups.

“Noo, only good girls get to cum .” He cooed, his finger playing with your little bundle of nerves. You’d been at this for about an hour now. He’d start to finger your cunt, and then he’d hit it as punishment. The closest you’ve been to finishing was the half-broken orgasm you’d stolen from his fingering, which in return you got another slap.

“Could’ve been done a long time ago. You’re making this so difficult for me baby.” He whispered in your ear, as if this hurt him more than it did you. “So now, are you gonna tell me the truth, or are you gonna keep lying to me? Cus’ trust me, I won’t hesitate to hit this pussy again” He threatened, the hand on your sticky clit moving even more slowly as an incentive.

You meant to shake your head, but when he swiftly plunged his fingers into your weeping cunt, the sloppy sounds of your slick, must’ve drowned out whatever of your senses was left. “y-yes…!”

You saw the gleam of that dangerous smile in the mirrors reflection. “I knew you would. Such a smart girl, yeah?”

Then your boyfriend laughed, a soft and smooth laugh that should not have gone down to your lower stomach with molten delicious heat. Could you blame yourself though? His fingers were pumping in-and-out of you with tantalizing proficiency, making your insides do somersaults. The way that syrupy-sweet praises dripped off his tongue alongside bitter jeers. Your brain was too far fucked out for so many conflicting emotions. “Go on now..say what you needa say to me.”

“m’ sorry for spending your money sugu! I shouldn’t have bought it, should’ve a-asked!” You confessed, buckling you hips in tandem with his fingers. “Ah ah…no moving.” He reprimanded, taking those fingers out and slapping your hole again. Your body jolted at the sudden sting and then slumped back against his chest.

“Look at you, all teary eyed and wet-pussied. You like this shit, don’t yeah?” He catchesized, with that stupid-stupid smirk on his face. “I bet you’re not sorry at all.”

“No-yes-no m’ sorry..! M’ really really sorry! ” You could barely understand what he was saying. Your pleasure was the only thing that mattered right now, all other senses finger-fucking out of you a long time ago. Geto loved you like this though. Fucked dumb and too far down the abyss of your own pleasure to think properly, all inhibitions lost. It was the easiest way to get an answer out of you.

“I think you bought this mirror just for yourself. Just so you could watch yourself get fucked? He guessed, dragging his hands across your quivering thighs. You hated how soft his voice sounded, especially when accusing you. whimpered as he did, wishing he’d just hurry and put you out of your misery. “N-no”

he frowned, stopping his hand in its tracks. He brought his lips close to shell of you ear, sending shivers down your spine and more wetness to your cunt. “Look at me, and don’t lie.”

You looked at him, straight through the mirror. “I promise, i didn't sugu. I just wanted our home to look nice!” you confessed, sniffling and squeezing your thighs together to create some sort of friction for your achey pussy.

Suguru felt his heart melt a little. You were so pitiful with your shaky mewls and whines . He couldn't help but feel a little bad for being so mean to his precious girl. He shouldn't punish you too hard, obviously you didn't know much better. “Aww..look at that face. How could I be so mean?” He told you, trailing that finger up on down your slit. He smiled at how you hips yet again bucked at his wandering digits. “So needy. Poor baby, drooling n’ crying just like this pussy. Guess I should give you what you want, yeah?”

“Mh! Yes sugu, please lemme cum now! I’m so sorry, won’t do this ever again.” You begged. At this point you were full on crying, all other senses overrides by your need to cum. His thick fingertip teased your sopping entrance, re-coating the fingers in cum.

He simply laughed, diving those fingers back into your pulsing heat. “Oh, I know baby. I know. Now watch me as I give this pussy just what she needs.”

[amsznn]

can you do a story about how chris and the reader meet at tara’s party but before that, reader accidentally revealed that she found chris cute and the she went viral for it (idk if that makes sense)

SOCIAL MEDIA FRENZY - c. sturniolo

2 days ago..

“chat are we enjoying this haul? don’t flame my style in the comment section.” you warned to your viewers on instagram live before grabbing the next package of clothes off the floor, ready to show your 14k viewers the next batch of items. “next youtube video when?” you read off from a comment.

“this was going to be a youtube haul, but i got lazy so..new video this week!”

your rise as an influencer had to be studied. from a random youtube vlog that you made out of the want to romanticize your life a bit and a rant on tiktok people found funny that gained 2.5 million likes caused you to not only receive near to 3 million subscribers on youtube but almost 1.9 million on tiktok.

this was only in the span of 2 years. growing and working to not only please your new fans but to also have fun for yourself as you still decided to go to college for that degree.

social media was just a hobby for you like a lot of people say. but you truly couldn’t expect the new wave of attention you would revolve for a simple comment you made.

the next item of your haul was a fitted cap that you saw at a pop up shop in your city. you recognized it from somewhere else and decided to buy it since it was also cute.

“guys this cap i actually bought because this youtuber, chris sturniolo also wears it in his videos.” at the mention of the social media star your comments flooded. “guys calm down, im not crazy, he’s just cute okay?” you laughed before setting the cap down then moving to the next piece of clothing.

soon enough you ended the live and went on with your day as normal. filming a bit of your vlog for your new video, answering emails from brands, doing some household chores and of course, settling down in your bed with some snacks for your nightly tiktok scrolling.

as soon as you opened the app you got bombarded with a screen recording of your live with the bit where you said chris was cute. it was all over. even on twitter you began trending for the potential new relationship between you and the social media star.

all you could do is read the comments, some encouraging and some hateful, watch edits of you two being shipped, and quickly text your manager profusely apologizing for the mess you just made.

you groaned while rolling around in your bed. sometimes you just forgot you were too well known to be spewing whatever nonsense came to mind.

which brings us here.

at taras party.

since she was inviting influential people, and her friends, you were a definite invite on her list. and you knew either all of one of the triplets would be there too.

you were nervous to bump into chris. would he even speak to you? and if he did would he be uncomfortable or understanding? well you were about to find out in a moment since he was walking in your general direction.

you mustered up all the courage you could and began to walk towards him. feeling the need to apologize to him since the situation was your fault and it must be annoying for him as well.

you came to a stop as he turned his body to fully face you. your breath hitched for moment taking his appearance all in. his black hoodie and black baggie jeans with his messy hair was a lot to take in in person.

either way you were gonna say what you needed to say. “hey, my names y/n. you might know me. or not thats fine too!” you stumble across your words for a minute before taking a deep breath. you could feel his eyes on you but you remembered hes just a person too.

“you may have seen the plenty of edits and a lot of my supporters in your comment sections or dms, and i just wanted to say im sorry since its been going for three days now and you must be annoyed.” you said it all in one breath and finally met the boys eyes. instead of confusion you were met with a look of amusement.

“oh you’re completely fine. honestly i felt bad for you since you were getting a lot of hate for a simple comment.” chris shrugged while giving you his signature smile. you smiled as well glad that he seemed fine with the recent uproar.

“ive heard worse.” chris said while grimacing at the thought which caused you to laugh nodding in agreement. the night went on with you and chris sticking together for the majority of the party. introducing one another to friends, chris introducing you to nick (your new best friend) and overall having a great time. before you left chris made sure to get your number and texted you to make sure you arrived home safely.

you couldnt help the smile that was spreading on your face as you recall the events of the night. maybe making that comment wasnt so bad after all.

walking towards your room of your apartment, you plopped down onto your bed and decided to make a quick instagram post for the night.

and guess who liked the post?

a/n: i hope yall enjoy this cus i sure did (i was so close to making this into a smut 😭)

[arieslost]

sky full of stars | ln4

summary: dj!lando always plays your song when you’re at the club.

word count: 3,615

warnings: drinking

masterlist — join my tag list here!

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

2021

You did not want to be in this club. You would need another pair of hands and feet to count off all the places you’d rather be, the very first one being asleep in your bed.

But here you were, not only in the club, but within a throng of people at varying levels of fucked up, jumping around and dancing to the song pounding through the speakers. Your comforts were twofold: the first was knowing that you could handle the two shots in your system, and the second was that your best friend was the designated driver tonight, so there was no way in hell she was going to leave without you.

Frankly, you’d been ready to leave an hour ago. In fact, you’d started saying the words, “I want to go home” when you caught a glimpse of the DJ in charge of tonight’s music. Granted, it was hard to really look at him considering the fact that the lights were low and you were on the other end of the club, but you’d seen just enough to know that he was attractive and any thought of leaving had gone right out the window. Not to mention the fact that he hadn’t said anything when he started his set, so you didn’t even know what his voice sounded like.

You needed a closer look.

So here you were, surprisingly enjoying yourself on the dance floor while you tried to check him out without being overly conspicuous. You were only able to make out a head of curly hair and the large hand that lifted a shot glass to his lips when your phone started ringing, the buzz in your pocket the only indication thanks to the blaring music. You squinted at the screen, thinking it might be your friend trying to find you, but the caller ID read “Potential Spam,” so your phone went right back into your pocket. You were on a mission.

When you looked up, you made direct eye contact with the man of the hour– the DJ you found nothing short of infatuating. You were rather close to his setup, maybe ten people away, but you could feel his gaze on you as he picked up a microphone.

“This next song is dedicated to the gorgeous woman I’m looking at right now,” he announced to the whole room, sending a wink in your direction before getting to work on fading the current song into the new one– “A Sky Full of Stars” by Coldplay.

You felt goosebumps rising on your arms as the first few notes filled the room, suddenly glad that you were here and not at home, asleep. The lights moved in tandem to the beat of the song, and you finally got a proper look at his face. It’s then that you knew you were screwed, because if he wasn’t the most attractive man you’d ever seen in your life, you’d be lying.

You barely had any time to pull yourself together before he was motioning for one of his friends to take over for him and stepping down from the booth into the crowd, making a beeline right for where you stood in the middle of it all.

“You’re awfully bold,” you said when he was close enough to hear you, a bit taken aback by how quickly he’d closed the distance between the two of you. “What makes you think I like this song?”

He didn’t answer at first, instead choosing to slowly run his hand down your arm until his fingers tangled with yours. “You have goosebumps, and I’d be shocked if you didn’t like it. When I played it last time, you came up to me and tried to take the mic so you could sing it to everyone.”

That’s another reason why you never made a habit out of going to the club. Somehow, it always got to the point where you lost your mind a little bit and somehow managed to find new ways to make an idiot out of yourself. But tonight was different– you were managing your alcohol intake, and the hot DJ was calling you out on something you’d been too drunk to remember the next morning.

Your friends hadn’t though; in fact, they’d been gracious enough to provide video proof of them dragging you away from the DJ booth. You’d never felt such shame as you did watching that back.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he said, his free hand tilting your chin up so he could look right at you as he spoke. “It’s how I noticed you in the first place. I haven’t been able to take my eyes off of you since.”

At least one good thing came out of my foolishness, you thought to yourself as he took your other hand and put both of your arms around his neck. It made sense, anyway– you definitely would’ve remembered seeing him before had you been sober.

“I’m not a very good dancer,” you warned him as he began to sway to the music, taking you along with him as his hands went down to your hips.

“Neither am I,” he confided, lips close to your ear.

The chorus began, the song’s beat drop making the lights change from red to blue, and you decided that you would let this happen, even if it turned into another embarrassing memory. At least you would remember this time, and you’d never forget swaying back and forth with the handsome DJ as the rest of the crowd danced around you both.

2022

You were in the club again, and you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. Spending so much time with your favorite DJ, Lando Norris, will do that to you. After that first dance, he bought you a couple drinks and didn’t go back to the DJ booth for the rest of the night due to you dragging him right back out into the crowd and dancing with him until your feet hurt too much to stand. Eventually, your best friend had found you and told you it was time to go, and in your tipsy state you’d kept your arms firmly around Lando, said something about “holding him hostage,” and vehemently refused to go anywhere. It wasn’t until he gave you his number that you allowed your best friend to take you home.

He texted you right away when he woke up that morning, and the day after the two of you went on your first date. He surprised you by taking you to a rather high-end restaurant; you’d pegged him for a more low-key guy when it came to dates, despite the fact that he’d dedicated a song to you in front of a club full of people, and you were proved correct when you were on the phone with him later that night.

“I don’t even like going out that much,” he confessed, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. “I just thought you deserved something special for a first date so I didn’t look like a loser.”

“You could have just told me that,” you giggled. “The dress code for our next date can be sweats.”

You still remembered the way his eyes lit up when you said “our next date.” That next date, a movie marathon at your apartment, had turned into countless dates, and you never went back to that restaurant.

Now, you were in the club where the two of you first met to celebrate your one year anniversary. Lando was wearing a white button up, and had just unbuttoned the top two buttons to reveal more of his tan skin and the gold chain around his neck. You’d given him a look, and he’d complained that “it’s just so hot in here,” but the both of you knew he was just doing it to rile you up.

It was working.

Your hands gravitated to the newly exposed skin, palms running up along his shoulders and fingers dipping beneath his collar to gently scratch at his back. You could spend all night running your hands over his skin, and he’d be happy to let you do it. He leaned closer to you, nearly stepping on your toes as his arms looped around your waist.

“You really weren’t lying last year when you said you were a bad dancer.” You laughed at the affronted look on his face.

“I think I’ve gotten better, thank you very much.” He said, and promptly stepped directly on your foot. “Shit, baby, I’m sorry!”

You only laughed harder, pulling him into a kiss. You could feel the vibrations of his own laughter against your lips.

“Wait right here,” he instructed, breaking the kiss. “I’ve got something for you.”

He kissed your cheek and disappeared into the crowd.

The song playing began fading out, which caught your attention because it was in the middle of the chorus. You didn’t need Lando’s DJ knowledge to know that it was a strange decision to fade a song out long before it was over.

“Attention, everyone. We had a special request tonight from a familiar face,” the DJ announced before passing the microphone to none other than your boyfriend.

“This next song goes out to my beautiful girlfriend,” Lando said, pointing directly at you and causing your face to get hot when half the room looked in the direction of his finger. “Happy one year, baby. I love you.”

Your jaw dropped as the familiar opening notes of “A Sky Full of Stars” started playing. Not just because of the song, but because of those three special words. I love you. You’d only said it to each other a handful of times, and Lando had just said it to you in front of hundreds of people.

You met him in the middle of the floor, too impatient to wait until he got back to you.

“I love you, I love you so much!” You yelled over the music, kissing him again.

“One year is just the beginning, yeah?” He asked, and you nodded enthusiastically, cheeks hurting from smiling so wide.

2023

You were wrapped up in Lando’s arms as you stood before his setup. In the past year, he had been promoted to be the main talent for the club and had three sets every weekend. He had insisted that the only gift he wanted from you for your two year anniversary was that you help him DJ his next set, and you’d obviously agreed. You got him a necklace anyway, but kept your promise so long as he promised to help you gain at least some skills beforehand so the audience wouldn’t kick you out for being shit. After a week or so, you felt confident enough with the buffer of the knowledge you’d picked up over the past two years to be where you were now– fading one song into another almost seamlessly.

Lando would take his hands off of you for only seconds at a time to adjust something here or there and make the music flow as smoothly as possible. Otherwise, he was all over you for the whole club to see, and you were kind of obsessed with it. He was hardly paying attention to anything else; only moving on autopilot to fiddle with the knobs or whatever it was he was doing to make you look like an adequate DJ.

“Did I do okay?” You asked towards the end of the set, looking over your shoulder at your boyfriend who hadn’t stopped smiling at you since you left the apartment and arrived at the club early to set up.

“Are you kidding? I think I might be out of a job after tonight,” he said, threading his fingers into your hair to pull you into a long kiss. “At least I would be, if I didn’t have this party trick under my sleeve.”

Slightly dazed from the passion of his kiss, you let him lean around you and queue up a song that wasn’t originally in the mix for that evening’s set.

At this point, you should have expected it, and maybe you did a little bit, but that didn’t stop the tears from pricking your eyes and the goosebumps rising on your arms when “A Sky Full of Stars” began, sending the crowd into a chorus of cheers.

“It works every time,” he said cheekily, reaching up to wipe away the tears that had escaped.

“You are unbelievable.” It was meant to be said in jest, but you were just so filled with love and adoration for him that it sounded like a compliment.

“Dance to our song with me,” he said, spinning you and tugging you forward so you bumped right into his chest.

“Here?” You looked behind you, at the set up, at the hundreds of people, and he took your chin in his hand and turned your face back to him.

“Here. Now. I want them all to see how much I love you.” He said it so sweetly that, in that moment, you were willing to give him just about whatever he wanted.

He started singing the song to you, “‘Cause in a sky, ‘cause in a sky full of stars, I think I saw you,” and it felt like you were the only two people in the room when the beat dropped and you kissed him with everything you had, letting him sway you back and forth and spin you around one too many times just to see his smile and hear his giddy laugh.

2024

You’re surprised when Lando tells you that he’s made different plans for your three year anniversary. The club has become a second home of some sorts; you’re there more often than not to watch his sets, and you’ve always gone there for your anniversaries. Not just the years, but the six month, year and a half, and two and a half year anniversaries as well. Thus, the sudden deviation from tradition raises a few alarm bells in your head. If anything, you’d expect a change for your four years next year since 4 is your boyfriend’s lucky number.

You don’t have time to dwell on it that much. You have to be out the door in ten minutes, and you still have to finish applying your lipstick, not to mention strap yourself into the sparkling silver heels Lando had gotten you for Christmas.

“Almost ready, baby?” He asks, peeking into the bathroom and watching as you add one last swipe of lipstick.

“Yup! Just need my—” you’re cut off when he holds up the heels. “—shoes. Thanks, Lan.”

“Here, sit. I’ll put them on for you.” He gestures to the edge of the tub.

You take him up on his offer happily, and your heart jumps up into your throat when he stares right into your eyes and slowly gets down on one knee before you.

You’d overheard him talking about possibly proposing to you with your parents over the holiday break, and you hadn’t been stealthy about it at all, so he knows that you heard. Since then, he’s made a game out of getting on one knee in front of you every now and then. He already did it once this morning when he woke you up only to tell you that he made you breakfast. You know he’s joking, but now that you’re celebrating a significant milestone in your relationship you can’t help but have a slight inkling that his joking around is less of a joke and more of a hint.

So when he holds your gaze long enough to make you start thinking that it might actually happen before going about putting your shoes on, you’re not at all fazed and ruffle his hair.

“Hey! Easy, I spent a lot of time making my hair look good for you.” He yelps, jumping up to look in the mirror and patting it down meticulously.

“I like it when it’s messy,” you reply, giving him a look that you know drives him crazy.

“You can’t say that and look at me that way when we’re trying to leave the house, babe.” He whines.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You make sure the straps on your heels are tight enough before you stand up, pleased that your retaliation to his down-on-one-knee joke worked better than you thought it would. “Come on, I don’t want to be late!”

He wastes no time in getting his payback for your antics when you arrive at the restaurant he took you to for your very first date. He opens the car door for you, and takes your hand to help you step out. The moment you’re on the sidewalk and the door is closed behind you, he gets down on one knee again, making a point to look at you the entire time. Your heart jumps again. Certainly he wouldn’t do it on the sidewalk? Or maybe he would, to add to the element of surprise?

He doesn’t. He simply ties his shoelace, the picture of innocence all the while.

“Shall we?” He says as he straightens up, offering his arm with a smile.

You retain your own picture of innocence, wrapping your hand around his bicep. “We shall.”

Seeing that he had booked the private dining room has more alarm bells going off in your head, not to mention the fact that you thought you’d never see the inside of this restaurant again. Regardless, you were actually kind of happy to be somewhere quieter to celebrate your anniversary, as much as you’ve fallen in love with being at the club.

Lando clears his throat loudly towards the end of your meal as the waiter pours two glasses of champagne. “Three years,” he begins, sounding somewhat awestruck.

You nod in agreement. “Three years. Sick of me yet?”

“I don’t think that’s possible.” He passes you a glass, and you clink them together before you each take a sip. “Actually, I’d really love to just spend my entire life with you.”

Now he’s not even trying to hide it, so you laugh a little bit. “That’s sweet, Lan.”

“I’m serious,” he pouts, and you try to contain yourself, painting a serious expression on your face and nodding as you press your lips together. “Fine, I admit it. I went a little too far with the joke.”

“Which time? Are we talking about just today or the past few weeks?” You ask pointedly, taking another sip of your champagne.

“Okay, a lot too far.” He huffs, getting out of his chair and pushing it in before walking to your side of the table. “I want to make up for it right now though, if that’s alright with you.”

“Oh my God. You’re actually serious?” You ask, feeling your insides beginning to shake a little with giddiness as he gets down on one knee before you for the fourth time today.

“I have never been more serious about anything in my life.” He reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out a small box.

It looks a bit different than ring boxes normally look, and the moment he opens it you understand why. The notes of “A Sky Full of Stars” emit from within the box where the ring sits, the dazzling diamond sparkling when it catches the light.

“Fuck’s sake, Lando, I wouldn’t have spent so much time on my makeup if I knew you were gonna do this,” you sniffle, putting a hand over your mouth.

“I’ll keep it short because I don’t want to cry too much and ruin it,” he promises, taking your free hand in his own, the other holding the box out to you. “I’ve never been happier to be borderline assaulted by a drunk girl in the middle of a set, because if that never happened I don’t know if we would’ve met.”

You start laughing hysterically, tears most definitely ruining your makeup, and he laughs through his own tears.

“I just love you so much, every little thing about you. It would take me eternity to tell you how much I love you, and that wouldn’t even be enough time with you. So, that’s why I want to ask you to be with me beyond eternity and do me the honor of being my wife.” He says your name like he’s saying it for the first time, taking his time to savor the way it rolls off his tongue. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you nod. “Yes, yes, yes.”

Hand shaking, he slips the ring onto your finger. The moment it’s in place, he puts his other knee down and pulls you into the tightest hug as the song continues playing from the box.

“I love you,” you whisper in his ear, feeling his shoulders shake slightly as he cries. “But did you have to give me a heart attack so many times today?”

He laughs, pulling away and grabbing a napkin to gently wipe your eyes. “Four’s my lucky number, I had to do it three other times today to make sure I got it right.”

The song comes to an end, and you pick up the box, observing the intricate design and the engraving on the outside– You get lighter the more it gets dark. I’m going to give you my heart. Forever.

“You know this has to be the song we dance to for the first time as Mr. and Mrs. Norris, right?” You say to him, leaning in and kissing the tears off of his cheeks.

“Way ahead of you, baby. I already started making our playlist; it’s the first song on there.”

note: the fact that i’m posting this after lando confirmed he “retired” from dj-ing… call this my long-winded eulogy. special thanks to coldplay for making a song that inspired a whole story!

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are always appreciated <33

beautiful dividers by @/saradika !

tags (i’m sorry if i couldn’t tag you!): @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @thef1diary @clara760-blog @baby-moxley @positiveaspirations @xfuckoffx @hannahbrown2002 @cataalinababeyy @inejghafawifesblog @formulasportworld @meandjoemama @maddie-bell @mrsmaybank13 @hadids-world @havaneselover08 @aacherrylips @itsmoonia @universallyhoundbonkfestival @rery30 @paigeworlds @wassgood @itscrzy @ctrlyomomma @inlovewithdeadboys @multifandomfan1 @bwormie @megsmclaren @barackostea @enchantemirrorball @tiredallthetimex @cosmoscoffeee @mlilyb16 @ophcelia @idktbhhsworld @l-inas @kath8278 @formulaangel55 @y-nusername @sla123455ffh @dinodumbass @diaa-20 @alexmarie29 @lisoba13 @ftdtlovecore @clowngirlsstuff @jurelij @romanxffs @sadisticfries @loyalpuffofthehuffle @cherrue @itsprashimusic @danielmarie @dampcelery0294 @shasasthings @bringbacktim @lou-larcher5 @yunakynn @hanbinnneee

[restinslices]

Believe Me

Gwayne Hightower X Female!Reader

Word Count: 2792

Summary: Gwayne bumps into an old flame and smut ensues (from his pov)

Content Warning: Smut (so minors dni), fingering, handjob, cheating, light hair pulling, light degrading and praising, vaginal sex, public sex (I hate this but we move on😭)

Gwayne Hightower was only human, and as a show of this, he had made plenty of mistakes in his lifetime. “It is not worth the stress to beat yourself over what could have been” he'd always remind himself. “What could've been if you chose the right card, woke up earlier, listened more, aimed a little to the left, ate breakfast…”. 

The list went on and on because humans make mistakes all the time. He had vowed to himself that he would never stress over these mistakes. What good would it do? The mistake was already made. 

That's the thought process he tried to keep as he made his way inside the Sept. He was not afraid of the gods deciding to punish him for the sins he was sure he had committed, or of the building crumbling down and burying him underneath. The current war going on wasn't even on his mind. 

What was on his mind was a singular person. And as he got closer and closer to the room he knew they'd be in, the thick fog covering their face in his memories started to move to the side. 

Further. 

Further. 

His steps began to falter when he finally saw them. When he finally saw you. 

You were sitting on the bench, back to him, candles aplenty in front of you. Just as he thought about turning around and leaving, you took off your cloak and set it next to you, revealing the open back to your dress. 

You were inviting him. Discarding your defenses and showing that you were open to being around him again. Or mayhaps he was delusional. Either way, he found himself sitting on the other side of you soon enough. 

“Is that really a dress appropriate for the Sept?” he tried to joke with you as he lit a candle. If it was a different time, you would've lightly shoved him and said something like “oh fuck off” while laughing. Unfortunately, that time had been long forgotten. 

You looked over at him at once, and he wondered if for a moment you thought all this was a dream. You looked him up and down, and must've realized this was all real. “Gwayne…” how could you say his name in such a delightful way? 

The surprise from your eyes soon fell, and instead it filled with resentment. “Gwayne” you said more lifeless. “Anyone is welcome here. A common whore could come, wearing hardly any clothes and she'd be welcomed”. 

“I'm sure common whores do lots of cumming”. 

You simply rolled your eyes at him and looked in front of you. “A jest, dear friend-”

“We are not friends”. 

He had known it, but fuck did it hurt to hear. It was said so coldly and cruel, like you wanted it to sting. It definitely had, though he wouldn't show it. 

“We have not talked in some time” he said with his eyes still trained on you. How could you sit there and be so beautiful? Even with a scowl and pinched eyebrows, you looked marvelous. “When I heard my sister had summoned you here as well, I admit I was a bit surprised”. 

“Why? Alicent is in need of a friend. And I am her friend”. 

Well you really knew how to rub something in, didn't you? “I tried writing to you-”

“Years too late” 

You snapped, eyes glancing over at him. Okay, mayhaps you were right. Mayhaps he should've wrote to you sooner, but he eventually did! That had to be worth something! “Why are you here?”. 

“I thought anyone was allowed here”

“It is the gods you should be speaking to. Not I”

“It is not the gods I crave” he spoke honestly. You simply scoffed in return and looked away again, causing him to sigh. “I should have wrote to you sooner, but I did eventually. And I am here now-”

“To do your knightly duties” you said dismissively. “Not to speak with me”. 

“I can do both!” his hand found your arm and he pulled you close to him, making your legs press against each other. He could hear how your breath hitched. He could see the way your chest rose and fell as a reaction to his touch. 

His fingers inched closer to your chest. “What are you-” you began to say, but the words got caught in your throat when he wrapped his fingers around the long necklace that fell in the long V neck of your dress, right in between your breasts. 

“You've kept this?”. 

Years ago, Gwayne gifted you a necklace with a large green pendant, and while the chain was completely different, the pendant was still the same. “Did the chain break?”. 

You shook your head. “No. My husband gave me a new chain. Said gold fit better”. 

He frowned. 

Your husband. Some boring guy with brown hair, brown eyes, patches in his beard and a voice that was far too high for a man. He had no real talents or skill, besides money and luck. That's how he landed you after all. 

“It is best for both of us that you do your praying and then leave. I imagine I will not be ready to leave anytime soon”. 

The moment his hand fell from your arm, he felt cold. He forced himself to look away from you and focus on the candle in front of him. So what was he to do now? Just let you go? Go off to war and accept that he'd likely never see you again? Accept you'd hate him forever?

“No” he answered himself out loud. “No. I am to just accept that your husband messed with a gift I gave you?”. 

“I beg your pardon?” You asked in disbelief. “That is what you are focusing on? That your gift was ruined?” You scoffed again and rubbed your temples. “Selfish as always. Nevermind to ask how I feel or how I have been. No. It is just stupid jokes and being offended. Did my gift put a dent in your pocket? Here then!”. You unclipped the necklace, grabbed his hand and shoved the necklace on his palm. “Take it!”. 

His chuckle afterwards was filled with bitterness. Here he was, trying to patch things up, and you kept making it difficult. “This resentment you hold towards me is ridiculous. I took too long to write to you after your marriage, but I'm here now. And this-” he set the necklace on the table. “This is a gift I gave to you”. 

“My husband gives me plenty of gifts. I do not need anything from you”. 

As if his gifts were anything special. Probably cheap and terrible material. You deserved more than that. You deserved more than some husband that probably couldn't even make you laugh the way Gwayne had. 

“Husband this. Husband that. Does shoving him in my face excite you?”. Maybe he had no right to be angry, but he was anyway. 

“I wouldn't be able to if you vied for my hand when you had the chance!” You snapped. For once, Gwayne had no response. No witty comeback or complaint. He just watched you as you realized what you said. You huffed, grabbed your cloak and got to your feet. “Good day Gwayne”. 

You managed to make it a few feet away before he finally spoke. “I should have”. Regret had gnawed at him for years now. He let you slip away. Why? Because he wasn't sure he could be committed. Did he love you? Yes. Was he a young man that wasn't fond of becoming a husband and a father? Also yes. 

“You have to understand,” he began as he rose to his feet. “Marriage was not something I wanted at the time”. 

“And you think I did?” You asked in disbelief. “Marriage was not something I wanted either. It was forced upon me. Marriage terrified me, but I knew that if I was married to you, marriage wouldn't be that bad. You were my best friend and lover. And what did you do, Gwayne?”. He couldn't make the answer leave his lips. The words felt like they were stuck in his throat and refused to go anywhere. “You left me” you answered for him. “And once I was married, you avoided me. Then years later you decided you wanted to speak again. What were you too busy doing? Drinking and fucking whores?”. 

That made him laugh. Drinking? Maybe a little. Fucking whores? It's not like he truly wanted to. It made time pass and got an orgasm out the way, but he didn't want painted whores. He wanted you to be under him. He wanted to feel your soft skin on his fingers. He wanted to hear his name pass your sweet lips over and over again until that was all he heard. 

“I made mistakes-”

“Mistakes?!”

“I made terrible choices” he corrected. “Awful ones. But you and I both know that I have always wanted and will always want you”. Those words seem to catch you off guard, which he assumed because you didn't push him away when his hands found their way to your hips. 

His face inched closer and closer to yours until your lips just barely brushed against each other. Unbeknownst to the both of you, your hearts beat as one in that moment. Both hearts erratic but somehow managing to be erratic together. 

“I want you desperately. And I know you want me…”. 

The remaining bit of space was broken and your lips finally met. Your lips responded to each other immediately and your arms wrapped around his neck. Finally… after so long you both were able to taste each other again. 

Reality came crashing down faster than he wanted it to. 

You shoved him away, making him stumble. You breathed heavily and wiped at your lips. “Won't change what happened” he said to your displeasure. 

“You are selfish” you spoke through gritted teeth. “You are an asshole” you shoved him again. “And a liar” another shove. 

Each insult you gave was followed by shove, and instead of feeling insulted, he felt something else. 

Desire. 

That desire is what led to him grabbing you, switching your positions and pushing you onto the table where no candles were. 

Your expression was full of shock, but not disgust or fear. Good. He never wanted to frighten you. What frightened him a little bit though, was his growing erection. Something that made no sense since all you had done recently was insult him. Gods, he was way more desperate than he realized. 

“Get all your insults out” he said as his thumb traced your lower lip, “tell me how much you hate me”. 

A request you had no problem fulfilling. 

“You are a vile man. Seducing a married woman in a Sept. Is there a line you're not willing to cross?”. 

There it was. Just like that. 

He began leaving open mouth kisses down your neck, eagerly awaiting what you'd say next. 

“You are a defiler full of sin”

“I am, aren't I?”. He held you in place as he bit and sucked at a particular spot on your neck, and a small smirk formed on his face when he heard you moan in response. “It seems you enjoy my sins” he taunted. 

“I hate you. No. I despise you. Even that word can't describe how I feel for you”. 

Gwayne untied your dress strap and unbuttoned the buttons in the front, allowing him to free your breasts. 

“I loathe you”. 

“I'm sure” his words dripped in sarcasm. Loathe him yet you allow him to undress you. Loathe him, yet you allowed him to fondle your breasts, then lick and suck at one of your nipples. That's how your little game continued. You'd throw insults at him in between your gasps, and he'd lick and suck harder at each breast, showing them both proper attention. His erection pressed against his trousers, it becoming almost painful. 

You lifted your leg up in response to him twisting your nipple, and your knee brushed right against his erection. He moaned around your breast before he even realized what had happened. His own eagerness being exposed only dawned on him when he felt your palm fully press against him. 

Your other hand pulled his head back by his hair, causing a sharp but welcomed pain to burn at his roots. “I always knew you were pathetic Gwayne, but this?”, a soft breath slipped past his lips when you pressed harder against him. “You like when I insult you?”. He nodded. No point in lying. Still though, he didn't just wanna hand you all the power in your game. 

He hiked the bottom of your dress up and kept eye contact with you as his fingers pushed your undergarments to the side and made contact with your soaked cunt for the first time tonight. He watched you try to keep a stone face, but you couldn't hide the sharp inhale you did. “Seems like you've enjoyed our little game too. What does that say about you?”. 

“What does it say about you that you like being called pathetic?”. 

Gwayne chuckled. He looked you over, watching as you tried not to react to his fingers sliding in between your folds. “You're marvelous…” he said almost as if in a dream. 

You yanked on his hair again and pushed his trousers down, freeing his erection. “Is this when I say you're disgusting?” You taunted. Your hand wrapped around him and shamefully he almost came from that minor touch alone. 

“If it pleases you”. 

His middle and ring finger slowly but surely made their way inside you, all while he whispered praises in your ear. 

“You're so pretty like this”

“You're taking my fingers so well”

“Open up for me. Just like that. Good girl”. 

Your head fell on his shoulder and his fell on yours. The Sept filled with both of your noises as you both continued to pleasure each other with your hands. It was clear that that wouldn't be enough. The question was just who would bend first. 

“I've got you” he whispered before placing a gentle kiss under your ear. You lifted your head off his shoulder to meet his eyes, and while there was still lust behind them, there was clearly something more. 

Longing. 

“Do you really?” You asked. 

He answered at once, “yes. I swear to you on all the gods in every religion that I'm never leaving you again”. 

You swiped at his hands and pulled him closer to you until his tip was lined up with your entrance. “And what about my husband?”. 

Damn your husband. He'd cause an “accident” to happen if he had to. He wouldn't let a man like him keep him away from the one person who truly wanted in this whole world. “I will deal with your husband and I swear you will never be able to get rid of me. Do you believe me?”. 

He asked his question as he began to push inside you. Your answer got stuck in your throat, so instead you nodded in response. Your nod wasn't enough for him, but he'd address that later. For now, he kept whispering encouraging words to you to soothe the stretching he knew you'd feel. He kept telling you that he had you, that you were okay, that you were safe with him and always would be. 

When you finally seemed adjusted, he spoke again. “Do you believe me?”. You nodded. “Out loud”. 

“I believe you”. 

That was all he needed hear. Once he got confirmation, his lips found yours and he moved inside you. Was this an all around terrible idea? Absolutely. Was there a chance of getting caught? Yes. But neither of you could care less about that. How could that possibly be at the forefront of your minds when you were finally feeling each other in the way you both craved?

You both enjoyed each other, ultimately hitting your peaks while you were still connected, mouths swallowing each sound the other made, and foreheads pressed against each other so you could catch your breath. 

His hands cupped your face and he pressed a softer kiss to your lips. Of course there was still that sexual desire there, but he wanted more than to just fuck and be rid of you. He wanted to hold you forever. He wanted to tell you about his tales of knighthood over dinner, and hold your hand as you went on walks in the garden. 

“I swear-”

“I believe you”. 

You believed him. That was all he needed. 

For you to believe him and for you to give him another chance.

Bitch I hate this shit but I haven’t posted in awhile soooooo here we are😭😭. Also the way I forgot about that necklace-

[hxney-lemcn]

Care for Yourself my Love — Overblots x gn! reader

summery: taking care of yourself wasn't your best skill, thankfully you have someone to help you build it up.

tw: unhealthy eating habits! If you're sensitive to this please don't read this fic! I'm not glorifying or romanticizing this, I just wish I had someone to help keep me on track (you'll notice I make the reader actively try to better themselves). mentions of depression/depressive traits (leona, idia).

a/n: I wanted to write something, ik people have done this already but here's my two cents because I've delt/deal with this too

wc: 1.7k (~250 per character)

Master List

Riddle Rosehearts

You don’t try to be so forgetful, it’s just you're either always running late or you find yourself procrastinating to the point you don’t have time. Unfortunately, your carelessness has gotten to the best of you and you found yourself nearly passing out while preparing for the upcoming unbirthday party. Even more unlucky, you swayed dizzily in front of Riddle, nearly toppling over and knocking over paint buckets. At first he felt his temper flare, that paint wasn’t cheap and now they’ll have to get more. Not only that, but now your shoes, socks, and pants were covered in red paint. But then he noticed the concerned look on Trey’s face and how you held onto him for support while holding your head, eyes closed tight. That was when the worry set in, were you alright? Why had you been so clumsy in the first place? You apologized to the two, casually bringing up how you can’t remember eating anything yet and that was most likely the cause. After that, Riddle tried keeping track for you, scolding you anytime you mumbled about forgetting to eat. How could you forget something so important! You couldn't learn properly if you didn’t take care of yourself. Not to mention the heart attack he nearly gets every time he recalls that moment of you nearly fainting in the rose garden. He doesn’t want that to happen again, so he’ll continue to help you out until you learn to take care of yourself better.

Leona Kingscholar

Honestly…I think he’s in the same boat. People call him lazy, selfish, and rude, and his only escape from all his problems is his dreams. Where people love him, where he’s important, where he’s cherished. So this can go one of two ways. 1) You both feed into each other's bad habits and become worse. Or 2) you notice his bad habits, and in trying to correct them (Ruggie helps tremendously with this…he also gets free food so he doesn’t mind) you find yourself improving on your own. Leona lets you take however much money you want, little does he know, most of that money is being used on him as well. You end up buying matching water bottles on a whim and you find yourself actually drinking a healthy amount of water now. This also goes for Leona, as every time you get food, you bring some for him, every time you go to get water, you bring some for him. In fact, he actually uses the water bottle you bought him, but it's only cus it reminds him of you…not that you’ll ever know. Slowly over time, you both improve each other, and you find yourselves feeling more healthy than ever before. Especially when Leona decides to have you join him for his spell drive training, making you participate in it as well. Not because he hates you, but he sees what you’ve done for him, and wants to help you in his own way in return…he just makes it seem and feel like a punishment. 

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul is a sharp one that never lets a detail go. He noticed your bad habits from the start. It only bit him back when he started to genuinely care for you. He felt his mind want to tear itself apart when you came by the lounge after school, immediately being placed in his VIP room, and him hearing your stomach growl. When he asked if you wanted food you denied, stating you didn’t have the funds. That made him want to rip Crowley apart. Instead of letting that anger show, he only smiled, making up some bullshit about how its on the house today. Azul made sure that the Leech twins kept an eye on you, and if your self-destructive habits got too out of hand they would step in. At first you were apprehensive when Jade would randomly appear, asking if you’ve eaten or drank anything recently. Azul nearly broke down in tears when one time you shrugged nonchalantly, asking if it mattered. It was then that you realized that your habits not only affected you, but the people you cared about as well. So you promised him you’d try to better yourself. If you forgot breakfast you at least had a granola bar on hand. If you forgot water, Floyd would throw a water bottle at you. It was a slow process, but after a while you started taking better care of yourself, and all Azul could do was breathe a sigh of relief. He was not going to let someone he cared about become their own greatest downfall. 

Jamil Viper

At first, he’s annoyed. Out of spite he won’t help you, his gray eyes watching to see you stumble with slight gratification. Those feelings soon crumbled the closer you two got, and that gratification slipped into apprehension. Jamil was going to lose all his hair at this rate. So when you forgot to buy food, or used all your money for other necessities Jamil started packing you a lunch alongside his own and Kalim’s. He quickly grew annoyed at how pleased he felt when he watched you scarff down his food, exclaiming how great it was. You forgot how warm the Scarabia dorm was and were currently sweating to death beneath all your layers? Don’t worry, Kalim had bought you tons of outfits already (no matter how much Jamil tried to stop him), he’ll take you to a spare room for you to change. You start feeling woozy, there’s a seat nearby and he’s already got water and a snack. Even though he’s still a bit annoyed he had to do all this in the first place…you had managed to wiggle your way into a soft spot in his heart. So for you, he doesn’t mind taking care of you. Not as long as you promise to try and learn to take care of yourself as well, because he’s not sure how much more his heart can take seeing you accidentally hurt yourself in one way or another. Plus, he won’t always be there to stabilize you…not unless you choose to stay by his side. 

Vil Schoenheit

This mf knew right away. He could tell with the way you cared so greatly for others, that you had no room to care for yourself. Vil makes a whole schedule for you, when you should eat, drink water, and exercise to be your best self. You are now an honorary pomefiore student with the way he treats you. Even with the added slack of not living on the dorm grounds…you’re still not safe. Vil gets spider senses with you slacking on self care and sends Rook to check in on you. He makes you set alarms, gets you a fashionable yet hefty water bottle for you to carry around. Honestly…he works the best when it comes to self care. He doesn’t even have to text you anymore, you’ll be slouching and he’ll pop in your mind and you fix your posture. Talk about living in your mind rent free. He’s also the harshest, his whole thing is being your best self and he’ll be damned to see you hurt yourself because you weren’t thinking clearly due to not eating enough. It all comes from a place of care though, he’s just not the best at expressing that. Just know that every time he scolds you it’s because he cares about you. If it gets too much though just tell him, he’ll pamper you a bit with a self care spa day sometime soon. At the end of the day, he wants to see you thrive, not survive. 

Idia Shroud

…worst person. Sorry. He’s worse than Leona. At least Leona is a part of a sport and still has to slightly take care of himself because of that. Idia has no motivation whatsoever. He is in his room nearly 24/7 with barely any contact outside. Never drinks water, barely eats (it's mostly snacks at that), and does he even sleep? Ortho is the one who does constant check-ins and brings him food and water. Although Ortho keeps constant health checks, he can’t help but be sad everytime he sees his brother push food to the side and forget about it. So if you’re looking for someone to help you with your habits I’m sorry but Idia will feed into your bad ones. If anything, it's Ortho helping you out. One time, you and Ortho had a little cooking hang out, and you brought a portion to Idia, and he ate it right away. It was then that Ortho found out a way to make you and his brother eat more. So expect more invites to cook with Ortho. In fact, he even got Idia to join! How fun! Even though the outcomes were more or less mid, you all had fun while making it. It got to the point that you and Ortho would keep challenging yourselves and would have Idia be your taste tester. Besides, how could he say no to you when you stared at him so expectantly? Just don’t ask why he never rates your food under a 7 out of 10. 

Malleus Draconia

Fae’s and humans were similar and different. One big difference was how much one needed to consume in order to sustain themself. You’d think a dragon fae would need to eat a lot in order to sustain such a powerful body, but they actually eat less. So if anything, Malleus didn’t see anything abnormal about how little you ate or drank. So when you immediately fell back in your seat after attempting to stand up, Malleus had rushed to your side, unsure what was wrong. You smiled in a carefree manner while trying to wave away his worry, explaining how you probably should’ve eaten more. It was then that he realized he had been negligent about your health and went to Lilia for answers. He visibly paled when Lilia told him humans needed to eat at least three times a day and drink tons of water. Now you have a dragon fretting over you 24/7. He knew humans were fragile, but every day he finds out they’re more fragile than he originally thought which caused him to fuss over you. You needed to eat more, child of man, he doesn’t want you leaving him earlier than expected. Humans die if they don’t drink water for three days? He now carries a water bottle for you everywhere you go. You’ll never have to worry about forgetting to eat again…in fact, you’re probably pleading with Malleus to give you a break, you’ll die if you overeat too…which causes him to spiral again…