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kisses4reid · 11 days

Text

red tissues | ·˚ ༘ aaron hotchner ,,

summary - you get nose bleeds regularly, the alarming increase in their appearances gets aaron’s attention, especially when you wake up one day to blood covering your entire face for aaron to see.

genre - hotch x fem!reader, fluff

warnings - lots of mentions of blood, nose bleeds, mentions of being over worked, sickness

a/n - i’m going to open a permanent taglist for anyone who wants to be tagged in every criminal minds fanfiction i write, so either comment on this or make a request that you’re interested! ❤️

The office was buzzing with the sound of typing and chatting, pens being passed and chairs being adjusted. The night was surely coming, sun setting against the window panes to cast shadows onto piles of files. Your desk was dark and your pile was unfortunately much taller than everyone else’s. Funny how shooting a criminal earns punishment through 10 more files to fill out.

But right now, all you cared about was filling your Snoopy mug with something. The coffee machine was broken by a certain muscly man, so some tea bags delivered that day were your only solace. Chamomile. Sounded tranquil enough.

As you waited for your beverage to brew, you glanced back to your desk and then to your teammates. You should’ve taken Spencer and Emily’s offers to take some files off you, but being a perfectionist and selfless, you kindly declined. Shoulder’s slumping, you pulled the mug close to your nose and took a long smell, closing your eyes in relief.

Suddenly, right before you could take the much needed first sip, a pang hit your head and your eyes and eyebrows ached, causing you to clench them. When you opened your eyes, the light brownish-yellow of the tea was mixing with red.

Blood. Shit.

You swiftly turn to grab some tissues as your boss, Aaron Hotchner, was grabbing his plain mug from the top shelf, you hadn’t even noticed him in your panic. He followed you with his eyes as he grabbed a green tea packet. The tissues held against your nose were turning red and soggy. And before he could ask what had happened, you had abandoned your mug and vanished from the room, heading for the bathrooms.

Aaron furrowed his eyebrows and noticed the discolouration in your mug, before grabbing it and washing it out for you.

A few days later, Morgan and Reid were sat in front of you, JJ leaning on your seat’s armrest as Aaron conversed with a lawyer over the phone. Prentiss covered the basic details of the case but all you could focus on was the slight pang in your heart when you heard Aaron chuckle at whoever was talking with him. Though your eyes didn’t leave the case files, your ears were suddenly attached to your boss’ voice.

Which was much closer, after he sat down next to you.

You felt stupid, being happier now that his attention wasn’t on some other woman, even though his attention still wasn’t on you. He sighed as he sat, a whiff of his strong cologne circling the group as they updated him on other details they had caught. You mentally scolded yourself for acting like a 14 year old girl crushing on her teacher, but alas, you would continue.

“We noticed all of the victims went to private religious schools, most of them went to church as well. Y/n pointed out how in all of their photos, they were dressed in a conservative way - which is a contrast when we look at their ages.” Spencer started before Rossi added,

“They’re all teenagers, nearly turning 20. They all had boyfriends, and we found that one of them was already engaged.”

You listened carefully, looking at the faces of the victims that were spread on the table, “As well as the common religious commitments, they all had one other thing in common.” You squinted your eyes with a short breath, feeling a headache approaching before you pointed something out that nobody else had noticed, “Same initials, all of them.”

Hotch nodded, “Amy Sanders, Alice Soo, Adriana Santiago and Alexa Smith. Nice work, Y/n.”

But before you could reject the complement and internally squeal, a throb attacked your head, and your eyes scrunched to create wrinkles you would try to massage away that night, before you threw your hand under your chin to swiftly catch a drop of blood. It was like a 6th sense these days.

“Excuse me.” You croak, leaving the back of the plane with Prentiss close behind you. You bent your head back before the raven haired woman’s hand pushed it forward. “Don’t do that, the blood might go down your throat.”

You followed her instructions and raised any eyebrow, pinching the bridge of your nose. “My niece used to have a lot of nose bleeds whenever she had a cold.” She promptly explained as she bent to pull out tissues from the white bathroom cabinets.

Around 5 minutes later, you and Prentiss returned to your respective seats, no one but you noticing a strong stare following you. “Are you okay, L/n?” Spencer asks, squinting in curiosity. “Yeah, sorry, sensitive nose, that’s all,” you lied.

These weren’t the first times you’ve had nose bleeds at work or around the team. There was one on your third day of work, the second time you went to a bar with Garcia, and one time on the plane around 4 months ago. You had been lucky that all your other nosebleeds happened either on the way to work or in the comfort of your own apartment. These days, when each case was followed by a heavier one, and each road trip was followed by a 10 hour flight, you were starting to get exhausted. You’re body has decided nose bleeds was the indication for you to take a fucking break.

The next week, you had almost forgotten about your unfortunate trait until a certain tall man called you into his office. “I need those finger print files done by tonight, is that alright?” He asked, smooth voice cutting through your fatigue, leaning on the front of his desk only a metre away from you.

You glanced at him up and down. He was clad in a smoke grey suit, perfectly fitted to his muscles and wide shoulders, tie loose enough to show the amount of work he had been through that morning. He smelt amazing, like wood and petichor, like metal and… “Yeah of course, sorry. I put the victims confirmed profiles on Spencer’s desk to check over before I could finalise the um…” Shit. Why did this have to happen right now?

But before you could even excuse yourself or hold a hand to your nose, a soft hand was cupped under your chin, careful not to touch you but close enough to catch droplets. Heat was radiating from the near contact, and you weren’t sure if it was because of the eye contact you were putting yourself through, or the blood that was currently pooling down your chin and into his palm. Aaron had appeared so swiftly, you wondered how he knew. “We should really get you checked out.” He said, recalling back to your third day on the job.

“You can check- You’re right I should get… your hand is getting blood on it.” He broke your eye contact and glanced down at his palm, before taking a breath and nodding. “Right, let’s get you cleaned up.”

His other, clean, hand is hovering over your lower back, and everyone’s eyes are hovering over the two of you, following you into the closest bathroom available. You can feel your cheeks heat up. As you pass the kitchenette, he picks up the box of tissues and you try to grab some from his hand, but instead of allowing you, he takes your wrists and holds one to your nose himself. His grip is soft, but restricting, warm. And you can’t help but look at him as he searches for an empty bathroom.

In the bathroom, he guides you to lean over the sink, washing his hands in a sink beside yours while watching you carefully. You look at him through the mirror, and you’re so distracted you almost don’t hear him tell you, “Lean forward more, don’t pinch your nose too hard.”

You comply and he crosses his arms and leans adjacent to you. “Do you know what’s causing all these nose bleeds?”

You thought back to shorter than 5 minutes ago and bit your lip, feeling your cheeks heat up once again. “Um, I think it was your cologne.” You glance over to him finding he was already looking into your eyes. You were embarrassed, he was your boss and you were basically insulting him. “You smell great, don’t get me wrong. My nose and I obviously have different… opinions.”

Aaron nods with a small smirk, compelling you to look away before you say anything more.

Thankfully, saving you from any more embarrassment, your nose stopped painting the porcelain sink reddish-orange. “Thank you for helping me, Hotch.”

Aaron returned to his computer and opened a tab, searching ‘Common causes for frequent nose bleeds’, and, ‘Ways to avoid nose bleeds’.

And the next morning, Aaron walked into the office to get his coffee (the machine had been promptly fixed after your nose bleed situation) before Morgan spoke up, “New cologne, Hotch?”

Hotch nodded, and turned back to his coffee, pocketing some chamomile satchels to dispose of later. The comment reassured Aaron.

He wanted to be someone you could be around without risking anymore red tissues.

Aaron placed himself next to you on the plane, the team had gone over the case six times already, and the plane flight was long. It’s always been long. You opened your mouth to greet him before he cut you off, “We can provide a doctor for you, if these nose bleeds keep happening.”

You blink in surprise, “I’m sorry they’re inconvenient but there’s not much I can do about it.” You bit the inside of your lip, unaware that your bleeds had caused anything negative other than a decrease in tissue supplies and unwanted attention (not including Aaron’s).

“I’m not saying it’s an inconvenience to me,” he shakes his head, “They’re an inconvenience to you. I’m worried it’s because you’re overworked.”

Oh.

You cleared your throat and avoided eye contact.

He continues, “You get to work the earliest, stay the latest, you’re always the one travelling the furthest when we have to split up.”

A smirk appears on your face as you finally look back up at the stoic man, “Sounds like someone I know.”

“I make time, Y/n.”

You wrung your hands in your lap and sighed, “I’ve had this problem since I was a kid, Hotch. My longest record between nose bleeds was three months, that's only because I finally found some medication.” Aaron raised an eyebrow. “They had terrible side effects, it wasn’t worth saving some tissues. I can deal, is what I’m saying.”

He nods and looks away in thought, that's when you allow yourself to look over his chest and arms, his posture and his… smell?

“You smell different.” “I didn’t want a repeat of yesterday.”

You couldn’t stop thinking about Aaron Hotchner since what he said on that plane a little over five days ago. He changed his cologne, he offered to find a doctor, he listened to your reasoning. You thought he was being friendly. You wanted him to be a little bit more than that.

The plush seats and convenient seating arrangement that put you next to Aaron didn’t offer any comfort against the dry and hot weather of Nevada. If a place was your enemy, this was it. You had already concealed a small bleed in the drive over, Spencer not giving you a second look when you pretended to sneeze into a tissue. With the increased frequency, she didn’t want any useless worry. You weren’t going to take a break, so you needed to hide any signs of exhaustion as best you could. Even when the sheriff opened every window in the temporary office, JJ continued waving herself with a file, Morgan had already chugged three plastic bottles of water. Even Hotch only had a dark blue dress shirt on and damn did he look hotter than the sun.

But even with your best techniques and play-pretends (never looking down for too long, staying hydrated, avoiding the hotter places in the precinct), an unfortunate pang hit the front of your head and travelled to your nose. Your eyes shuddered, and you started to look for a tissue, before one appeared at the bottom of your chin before blood even trickled down your top lip.

It was Aaron holding it there, eyes on the case.

You looked at him in surprise and awe, before you took the tissue off him and excused yourself, getting a worried look from the old sheriff.

The tall man had learnt when you were about to get a nosebleed, a sudden stop in motion, scrunched eyebrows and eyes, stopped breathing. And as you left his line of vision, he tried not to worry about the amount of blood you would lose in this weather, and it motivated to close this case even more.

Everyone around the table glanced at Hotch and then at each other, putting on blank faces when Hotch looked up.

It wasn’t much better in the hotel rooms you had been given. They had aircon, and free water, but small windows, and broken fridges.

It was a relief to be able to sit on something that wasn’t covered in someone else’s sweat, even if it would be covered soon by your own. You had the coldest shower you think you’ve ever had, put on a larger t-shirt and a small pair of basketball shorts to fight against the heat during the night.

It came a surprise to you when you were blood free the entire afternoon and you counted it as good luck for the flight home, forgetting to place tissues or water on your bedside table. After denying an invitation to poker, you threw yourself onto the bed with crisp white sheets and soft pillow cases, in the direct shot of the air conditioning and only window in the room, and passed out.

There was a frantic knocking on your door, or maybe a pounding in your head. You couldn’t tell, and when you tried to investigate, you felt like your eyelids were sewn shut.

You were able to peak them open and lift yourself weakly, when suddenly a figure appeared in front of you with long blonde hair and soft hands on your shoulders.

“JJ?” Your lips felt tight.

“Jeez, Y/n. How long have you been sick?” Her voice was muffled, but as your vision became clearer so did your hearing. Hotch stopped in your open doorway, already dressed and bags dropped in the hallway, before walking in.

For a second you were going to try and stand to clean your room, realising how late it was. But as soon as you tried to stand, everything went hazy, and you could taste metal on your tongue.

“Y/n, we need to get you cleaned up.” JJ said sweetly, as if you were a child. She took your heavy arms and pulled them to the bathroom, light making your headache into a migraine.

You lifted a hand to the bone between your eyebrows, and when you took it off, it had dried blood on it. As JJ grabbed your body towel from last night and wet a corner of it, you stole a sight of your face. Your mouth and nose was covered in dry blood, some of it had travelled to your left cheek, and between your eyebrows. There was fresher blood on your chin and some even on your next.

You had a delirious thought that you had been stabbed, or you had stabbed someone, but when you looked out into the bedroom and saw Aaron taking the pillow case off of the pillow you were using, you wondered if you caused it to go from white to red overnight.

“What happened?” JJ asked, carefully placing her fingertips on the bottom of your jaw while her other hand dabbed softly at your face. You couldn’t answer, even though you had a fairly good guess. Aaron appeared in the mirror to hand JJ some pain killers, for you.

Swallowing was painful, but as your blonde friend wiped off the last bit of blood from your top lip, you looked worse than your throat felt.

“I’m sorry JJ, I could’ve cleaned myself up.”

“Don’t apologise Y/n. You worried me. You weren’t responding to your texts, not even Hotch’s,” she put the towel down and looked into your eyes with a motherly concern. “I think you need to listen to Hotch when he offers you a doctor again.”

And you nod, because she was right.

JJ left the room with a hug, leaving you with a very cross Aaron Hotchner.

“I’m-“

“You could’ve choked, or suffocated, or passed out- Actually I think you did.” He motioned towards your alarm clock that had been running since 5 a.m. “Y/n…” He looked confused, worried, sad? Your eyes hadn’t 100% cleared yet, a headache slowly throbbing, knees still slightly buckling. You wanted to lay down and be thrown into an ice bath.

“How was I supposed to know this would happen?” You croaked out.

“You’ve got one window open, cold and dry aircon on, and no water bottle on your bedside table. You should’ve asked to sleep in the same room as someone, in the same room as me.”

You looked down to your feet, only noticing now that Aaron had packed all of your things for you.

“I thought you had been…” He raked a hand through his hair and paced before placing his hands on your upper arms, “I’m going to get you to a doctor, and you can’t say no. That’s an order.”

His grip tighten only slightly, before he turned around and left with your luggage, heart beating fast in his chest.

You were back home, thank god. The air was cooler and clearer, and you didn’t feel like you needed to moisturise every two minutes. You stretched your arms above your head, squishing your eyes closed for some relief to the sting from the computer screen. Your chest expanded deeply, and your nose finally cleared.

And when you opened your eyes, you glanced over to your boss’ office windows to see if he was still working. But he was already out of his door, looking at you.

Butterflies played tag with each other in your stomach, a blush crossing your face and you both shot your gazes away.

His shoes were nearly silent against the floor, but when you quickly stood to pack your shoulder bag and take the sweater off the back of your chair, Aaron was there to greet you when you turned around.

“Let me walk you out?” He asked, as if the last words he said to you weren’t full of unprofessional emotions.

You were silent for at least 3 seconds, Aaron getting worried for a second before you stumbled over your words, “Y-Yes plea- Yeah. Sure.”

He smiled, a genuine smile.

Side by side, his briefcase touching your shoulder bag, you made your way towards the elevator. Aaron fiddled with his fingers and felt unfamiliarly nervous, heart thumping a little harder than when he walked out of his office.

“Thank you for everything. Caring, catching my blood. I would ask how you knew, but you are a profiler after all.” You smile softly, and he nods. “I’m glad you noticed.” He presses on the car park level in the elevator, hands coming to discreetly fidget once again.

And you can’t take the silence, “You still smell good.”

“You always do.” Aaron looks as surprised that he said that as you do, looking away quickly before looking up and sighing, “Tomorrow is Saturday.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you have any plans?”

“I have a movie I want to watch, maybe a recipe I wanna try,” you reply oblivious, shuddering at the sudden change of temperature when you both exit the elevator. Suddenly a thicker layer of fabric was draped over your shoulders, one that smelt like new cologne. You blushed, looking up at him.

The cold breeze was pushing his hair out of place slightly, making his nose a little redder, his eyes clearer. He looked like the word handsome humanised.

“I think that you should watch that movie and try that recipe at… my place.”

You widened your eyes chasing any regret or embarrassment in his eyes, but all you got was nervousness, something you had rarely seen in him before.

He is so handsome, I can’t believe this is happening, I have to tell Garcia- Can I tell Garcia? He’s my boss after all- I mean this doesn’t mean it had to be a date or anything-

Some blood dripped onto the jacket draped over his shoulders.

“You could’ve just said no.” He joked as you pinched your nose, smiling against the small headache. It must’ve been the last bit of blood from that morning. “No, I wanna go, I do- Just, could you get a tissue from my glovebox? I don’t want to get anymore blood on your coat.” You reply, nasally and carefully.

“We’re definitely getting you to a doctor.”

“Sounds like a fun first date.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotch oneshot #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotchner fluff #criminal minds fluff

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shooting-love-arrows · 6 months

Note

could you write where darling wakes up and sees 1950s husband in the middle of his morning routine and finds out hes not as neat as they thought?

but instead of taking it badly they love him even more

Dear Anon,

Aww, that's heartwarming!

@shooting-love-arrows

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎'𝐬! 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃 and not so perfect morning

PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 x reader (gender not specified/mentioned/implied) Tw. angsty, hurt and comfort. A/N: I decided to take into consideration this question when writing this fic. So it is longer and about our dearest 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Squeeack…

You were awoken by the quiet and familiar sound of the bathroom door being open. It means only one thing: your dear husband was currently in the bathroom. Like every other day during this time around.

“Ugh…” A soundless groan of misery left your mouth. Unluckily you didn't sleep well that night. Your sleep was shallow and you couldn't seem to find a comfortable position. Not to mention you woke up to every sound you could hear. And just when you were slipping into a blissful dreamland, your bathroom doors decided to prevent you from slipping further. For now, you snuggled closer to your fluffy pillow. Your thoughts began to roam freely but at some point focused on something that has been bothering you for a while.

It was confusing.

At the very beginning of your marriage, you found it surprising. Not many people were that determined to wake up early in the morning. After a few months, you reasoned that it was just part of his personality. Perhaps a perfectionist problem? Part of his routine he didn’t want to stray from? You didn’t know and you didn’t want to pray. Your logic was that if he wants to share it with you, he’ll do so. But after months turned into years, with you still being left in the dark, you began to feel…doubt.

“Why does he do that?” You wondered more than once. You had no idea what was the reason why your sweetheart got up before you, shuffled around the bathroom, only to come back to bed right before your alarm clock rang, like nothing ever happened. “What does he do there? Should I ask him? Does he want me to ask him? Maybe I should wait for him to tell me himself?”

So many questions, so little answers…

You sighed heavily. It looks like you won’t be able to catch some zzz’s anymore. You were too awake, especially with your mind running miles an hour.

“What a pity…” You rolled over your back and groggily opened your eyes. You blinked a few times to adjust your eyesight. The familiar white ceiling of your cozy bedroom greeted you like an old friend. Streams of warm sunlight were shyly peaking in the room from behind the gaps of the closed curtains. Everything stood still. It was peaceful. You let yourself sink into the soft bed and strained your ears to hear your husband shuffling in the bathroom. You wanted to say you were content but… “What a pity he isn’t here with me…”

You let your eyes slide over to the other side of the bed. It tugged on your heart that it was cold and empty with a messily thrown blanket and a pillow with a dent the size of your husband's head is what has greeted you. It was a let down. You wished he was there to greet you with his brilliant smile that seemed to light up the room, whisper to you a ‘good morning, my darling’ that always caused your heart to skip a beat and let you kiss his soft lips that perfectly molded with yours. This is what you needed to start a good day.

Involuntarily you did a big and satisfying stretch. Your body felt heavy and begged you to stay in. Just lay down…under those fluffy blankets. Let yourself relax and wait for your dearest husband to climb back beside you. Wake up to him and cherish those kisses you'll share…

“I’m spoiled fella, aren’t I?”

There was no point in dwelling about such matters this early in the morning.

With a heavy sigh, you bravely fought those demons of laziness and decided to get up. You decided to invest this energy in something productive instead. And there’s so much to do around the house!

“Hold on a moment…isn’t my husband in the bathroom?” Your mind went blank before you eagerly jumped out of your bed. You wouldn’t miss a chance to spend more time with the love of your life.

You shuffled towards your bathroom, barely containing your happiness. So high on positive emotions and not expecting anything unusual, you didn’t even hesitate to open the door.

Squeeack!

There was a beat of silence. Both of you froze for entirely different reasons.

You stopped mid stride when entering the small space. Your jaw went slack when your eyes took a closer look at your husband. Your shoulder dropped and you took a deeper breath. His face was…bare. His glistening face seemed to be freshly washed since it was glowing in the warm light. He…he was mesmerizing.

While you were too busy admiring the entirely new side of your husband you didn’t notice how 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 seemed to be feeling the exact opposite of you. His eyes widened till the white was showing around his irises and his stare didn’t dare to stray from you. His breathing quickened and his body began to fold, hoping to make himself smaller.

This couldn’t be happening…it can’t be! How…why are you awake? Why are you here? You…fuck…you found him out!

“Swee — ”

“This can’t be happening…! You…no…how…?” You were cut off by your husband's quiet and wobbly muttering. Your eyebrows threw together and your body grew still. You were quick to note how your husband hid his face from you and was hunched over the sink. You heard just how heavy his breathing has become. Something was clearly wrong.

“Sweetheart…?”

The reality around 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 became more vivid. His senses heightened to the point he was sure he could feel his surroundings. He was sinking so deep into his headspace he began to get lost there. Everything was becoming too much. His head, his thoughts and his feelings were ripping him apart. And the reason behind it was very valid. Whatever he has built around his person, whatever worth he had in your eyes and the control were gone with the swing of those blasted doors!

“Dearest?”

He was falling apart.

You flinched back (but only because you didn’t expect it) when he started laughing hysterically. Your concern for your husband only grew tenfold when you saw his state worsening by every second. You wanted to help him however you didn’t understand what could be the cause of this. Was it…you?

It turns out you didn’t have more time to analyze the situation, because you had to rush over when you saw your husband crumbling to the floor. Before his body could hit the ground at full force, you caught him safely in your arms. He was hyperventilating and you feared that he would pass out from the lack of air. His body was shaking badly and muttering things under his nose like a madman. Just like you did many times before in different scenarios, you tucked his head into the crook of your neck, laid your chin on top of his head, brought him safely into your arms to hold him tightly. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 closed his eyes, brought his knees close to his chest and circled his arms around them. He curled into a tight ball, slowly rocking back and forth in your arms.

Sob…sob…sob…

But your heart broke when you heard the first sobs escaping his lips.

You really wished you would know what to say or do in that situation. You wished you were more educated on that matter so you could be useful. You wished you could fulfill your role as his lifetime partner to him. Unfortunately, for now you had to rely on your instinct with a promise to be better and aid your husband in the time of need.

Starting now.

“Let it out love…let it out…” You whispered against his ear and started caressing his head. Sweet nothings began to pour out of your mouth soon after. Half of his curls were freed from the curlers and you carefully carded your fingers through them in a soothing motion.

“Y…you…u…fo…fou…nd…out…!” He wailed in your neck after a while of intense crying. His voice held nothing but despair, pain and heartbreak. Not to mention he could barely speak with how violent his sobs were. You blinked rapidly, scrambling to understand what he meant by that.

“What have I found out, dearest husband?” You lowered your voice.

“You…you…w…will…leave…leave…me!” He choked out those words like he didn’t hear your question.

Your eyes widened when you heard this statement. How could he think you’ll leave him? What’s the reasoning behind this logic? Are you failing as a partner? Apparently so because otherwise, your husband shouldn’t be saying, nor even thinking, about such dark thoughts.

Some moments passed before you opened your mouth again.

“For better and for worse…for better, for worse…for richer, for poorer…in sickness and in health…until death do us part.” You whispered those sacred vows, engraved in your mind till the end of your time. You squeezed him tighter so your bodies were melting against each other. Your husband's eyes widened when he heard them, especially when laced with so much love and adoration just like during your wedding. His chest was heaving up and down, violent hiccups jolting his body. His face was flushed, fat tears pouring from his eyes and snot steadily coming down his nose.

He was at his worst, ugly and disgusting. And you…you dared to say those words? Why…?

“Be it whether you’re at your best, at your worst, when we’re young and when we’ll grow old, whether you wear your makeup or not. I am here for you.” You swallowed thickly and fought against your own tears. Your husband needs you and you won’t fail him ever again.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 processed your words before he let out another wail that echoed in the bathroom. You felt your husband latching onto your waist and clutching onto it tightly. He was afraid that if he won’t hold tight enough you’ll get up and leave him for good. He buried his face in your neck and continued to cry harder. He was reduced to a crying mess and shadow of the person he usually portrays himself as.

“I will never cease to love you, the dearest love of my life.”

All of the published posts on this account/blog belongs to @shooting-love-arrows. I do not consent to my works being: translated, stolen, published or reposted on this and other sites. Likes, reblogs, comments are highly appreaciated. Thank you.

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joonsmagicshop · 24 days

Text

Needy

Summary: Your mother asks why you haven't given her grandbabies. You tell her you are not ready for that yet but it turns out Yoongi likes the idea very much

Paring: Yoongi/Reader

Word Count: 5K

Rating: M/18+

Tags: Boyfriend Yoongi, Mother daughter relationship that kind of sucks, needy subby Yoongi, soft Dom reader, dirty talk, reader calls him kitten and baby boy, jerking off, sucking off, pregnancy kink, flirting, second hand embarrassment, Yoongi can't get his erection to go down so reader helps, deep throating, face fucking.

Authors Note: The horny demon possessed me again.

Also this picture 🔥🔥🔥

“Yoongi there is a spot right there!” You say

“Can’t park in front of a fire hydrant babe.” He replies, eyes scanning the street

“Okay, what about there!”

“Park next to a Tesla? Absolutely no way.” He says, turning down a side street, eyes still focused trying to find the right parking spot.

“Yoongi please can we just pick a spot?” You ask balancing the meat and cheese tray you brought on your lap and scanning the street.

He smiles at you and turns the car down another street and you see you are getting further away from your parent’s house.

“Or are you being picky because you don’t want to go?” You ask with a teasing tilt to your voice which has Yoongi placing a hand over his heart in mock hurt.

“How dare you Y/N. You know I love going to these extravagant giant parties your mom holds.” He jokes as he turns down another street and begins to search for more parking.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that appears on your face.

“Not sure why you are complaining Yoongs my mom looooves you.” You tease as he scowls and finally finds a spot that seems good enough for him to park his sleek black car into

You can’t help but laugh at his reaction.

But what you said was true.

You had been dating Yoongi for a year now and your mom absolutely adored him. She doted on him whenever he came over and always reminded him how he was her favorite son-in-law (he was her only son-in-law as it was just you and your brother as her kids)

Her relationship with you was much more…complex.

She was a perfectionist in everything she did and while it was impressive it could also be annoying when she expected everyone to be just like her.

You, being the only daughter meant she often criticized you, wanting you to be as perfect and ladylike as her.

This perfectionism shone during her parties. Your mom loved to host parties. Every small gathering got blown out of proportion so she could throw a massive get-together. She would go all out with decor and found herself happiest when she was planning something.

Your grade eight graduation was supposed to be a small gathering of family and it turned into a block party.

Your high school grad was worse as she tried to invite your whole class which you shut down real quick.

You took out your phone and frowned to see your brother finally respond to your text about the party.

“Michael is out. Says his wife and kid have food poisoning.” You say to Yoongi as he finally gets the car in the spot and throws it into park.

You grumble and type back a message as Yoongi chuckles beside you.

“Can’t we tell your mom we have it too?” He jokes as you lightly smack his arm and undo your seatbelt to step out of the car.

Yoongi follows suit and comes around to your side of the car, ever the gentleman holding out his hand so he can help you over the grass which is still slightly damp from yesterday’s rain storm.

It didn’t help you were wearing three-inch heels and a flowy pale blue sundress with small flowers embroidered on it.

You struggled to balance the huge tray of food as Yoongi grabbed your elbow to help steady you over the grass.

“So who are we celebrating again? Alessa and Jonathan right?” He asks pushing his soft brown hair away from his face and smiling down at you.

“Yeah it’s their second child so my mom thought to throw a small gathering.” You say snickering as you walk past the parade of cars that have taken over the whole subdivision.

“Ah, so a small gathering with your cousin’s closest friends got it!” Yoongi teases.

You finally make your way to the driveway and look up in time to see the door being thrown open by your mother who is standing there in a soft white sundress, her hair was curled in her signature style and she had her hands on her hips as you approached.

“Hey, mom.” You say leaning in for a sideways hug as you don’t want to knock the tray in your hands.

“Oh honey, what is with the hair up hmm?” She says signaling to your ponytail which was hanging down your back.

“This is a party I thought you’d wear your hair down for once.” She says with a frown as you fight the urge to roll your eyes.

Before you can respond her eyes land on Yoongi.

“Oh let me take a look at my handsome son-in-law!” She squeals as she wraps Yoongi in a hug and you bite back your laugh as she grabs his arm and brings him into the house.

You head to the kitchen and set the tray down amongst all the food as you hear your mom talking Yoongi’s ear off in the dining room.

You pull out your phone to respond to your brother’s text as you let your mom talk to Yoongi.

Once you decide Yoongi has suffered enough you slip your phone back into your purse and walk to the dining room to loop your arm through his.

He shoots you a grateful look as your mom is still chatting, oblivious to the whole thing.

“Mom, where is Alessa? I have a small gift for her.” You ask cutting your mom off her tangent as her eyes finally lock on yours.

“Oh I didn’t even see you come over dear Yoongi and I were just chatting oh… well of course let's get you to the party girl!” Your mom giggles as she leads you out the sliding door and to the expansive backyard.

Yesterday’s rain luckily blew through in time for today to be beautiful. The sky was bright blue with small whispy white clouds scattered throughout. The air was warm with a slight breeze that ruffled your dress as you walked over to the gazebo where the party was being held.

The party girl in question was your cousin Alessa who was lounging on a chair by the pool which your parents opened early for the party.

It was heated anyway so it didn’t matter that it wasn’t blistering hot outside people were enjoying it regardless.

Luckily for you (and Yoongi) someone grabbed your mom’s attention and she was off before you even had a chance to say another word to her.

“We could leave right now and no one would know,” Yoongi mutters in your ear as you shake your head and head over to Alessa.

“Hey!” You greet her as you take in her appearance. She is wearing a flowy red dress and her hands are wrapped around her stomach instinctively, her husband Jonathan waves from the pool where he is teaching their four-year-old daughter how to swim.

“Hi! Oh, I’m so sorry I seriously can’t get up right now your mom had me greeting like fifty different people and I’m exhausted.” She tells you as she swings her legs over the side of the lounge chair to side sideways and you wrap her in a hug.

Your cousin Alessa is three years older than you and absolutely glowing. Her first pregnancy was rough on her so when she announced she was pregnant again the family worried about her. Luckily this time around she seemed to have a much easier time and you were happy about that.

Yoongi shot her a small wave as you dug through your purse to pull out the card you got her. She beamed when you handed it over and patted the seat beside her so you could sit down.

Yoongi took the small folding chair next to her and the three of you chatted.

Party music filled the air and the atmosphere was warm and welcoming. You took your time catching up with your favorite cousin as Yoongi listened on nodding occasionally.

Jonathan got out of the pool with Millie on his shoulders and plopped her down right next to her mom. Alessa laughed when Millie climbed on her lap and got her dress soaked with pool water, you scooted over to give the four-year-old some room

“Yoongi good to see you, man.” Jonathan greeted as he patted Yoongi’s back.

“So your mom said this was going to be a small party?” Jonathan said with a grin as his arm swept the area to show how many people turned up.

“I don’t know if they even know it’s for me!” Alessa said with a laugh.

“I don’t mind though good food and good company. I don’t want to be the center of attention anyway. Remember your high school graduation?” She teases as you cover your face with your hands and groan.

Your mom made you wear a bright pink sash that said High School Grad on it and paraded you around the whole party. You were so embarrassed.

“Don’t remind me!” You groaned as Yoongi laughed.

Her ears must have been ringing because suddenly your mom appeared at Jonathan’s side holding a platter of watermelon. She put it down in front of Alessa and smiled at your small group.

“There’s tons of food inside if anyone wants any. Yoongi made a beautiful meat and cheese tray.” Your mom gushes as you fight the urge to once again roll your eyes.

“Actually Y/N made that. I was working late last night so didn’t have a chance to help.” He corrects as you look up at him with a small smile on your face.

“Yoongi you work too hard! Always these late nights! Make sure you take care of yourself too. Don’t want to overwork.” Your mom comments as you reach for a piece of watermelon ignoring the way she didn’t say anything about you making the tray.

It doesn’t matter anyway, you stopped trying to get recognition from her years ago.

“And how’s the baby?” Your mom asks turning to Alessa who is sipping a drink and jostling Millie in her arms to get her more comfortable.

“Good! Kicking a lot today but I think it’s just because of the food. I ate that spicy nacho dip.” She says patting her swollen belly.

“Ah yes, when I was pregnant the first time I craved all spicy food all the time. Her brother was a menace with the kicks.” Your mom responds with a teasing smile as she shoots you a look you know all too well.

You brace yourself knowing the words that will come out of her mouth next

The question she has been asking ever since you brought Yoongi home for the first time.

“So Y/N when are you giving me grandbabies?” She asks turning to face you and staring between you and Yoongi.

Poor Yoongi had never experienced her questioning firsthand and nearly choked on his drink at her words.

You sighed.

“Mom I told you we aren’t ready yet.” You say as you reach for another piece of watermelon hoping she will drop the subject.

“Yes, but honey your father and I aren’t getting younger you know. We want to be grandparents before we pass away!” She says loudly drawing the attention of the crowds standing close by.

Shit.

“I know Mom just not right now okay? I promise you will have grandkids…someday.” You say keeping your answer vague.

“Come on you would look adorable pregnant and we could go shopping and pick out clothes oh! It would be so fun to be a grandmother!” Your mom continues to gush oblivious to your embarrassment and the way Yoongi’s cheeks are stained bright pink and how he won’t stop staring at the floor as if it is the most interesting thing in the world.

“Mom stop! You’re embarrassing Yoongi and I.” You respond trying to cut off her tangent.

“Think of all the money you will save!” Your mom continued, not bothering to listen to what you were saying.

Embarrassment floods your veins as you are stuck in your spot next to your cousin who looks just as horrified as you feel waiting for your mom to stop talking so loud and attracting so much attention.

“Mom stop! Kids are expensive we won’t be saving money.” You hiss standing up trying to get her to stop talking.

Your eyes flick to Yoongi who looks mortified.

“Well yes, but you will be saving money. Protection is so expensive nowadays not having to buy condoms anymore will save you so much money! Plus it will give me grandbabies.” She coos.

You stare at Yoongi in shock as he closes his eyes and buries his hands over his face. You close your eyes and try to think of a way to tell your mom to shut the hell up without sounding so rude.

Your saving grace comes in the form of your father who enters the scene and whispers something in your mom’s ear shutting her up instantly.

“Oh, my friend Melanie is here! Oh, I must go say hi I haven’t seen her in over two months!” She exclaims as she quickly turns and hurries to the front door to greet her friend.

You are still frozen in shock not daring to look around at the group of people who you feel are staring you down.

“Um wow,” Alessa says breaking the uncomfortable silence as you finally lift your head to see everyone has pretty much moved on and is talking amongst themselves again.

You stare at Yoongi who is a brilliant shade of red and still staring at the floor.

“I have no words. Please tell me that didn’t actually happen. My mom told me not to use protection in front of a crowd.” You whine out as Alessa rubs your back.

“I am so sorry but it did happen. And it was wild.” Jonathan says as you look at Yoongi who is still not saying anything but is squirming in his seat.

“Yoongs you okay?” You ask as he slowly sips his drink and nods at you, still looking super uncomfortable.

Millie decides to wake up at that moment and wants to play so Jonathan takes her out to the grass beyond the patio and pool where lawn games are set up.

Another cousin shows up and the conversation switches to girl talk as you try to push down your embarrassment from earlier.

After five minutes Yoongi stands and squeezes your shoulder telling you he is going to use the washroom and will be right back.

You stand to give him a peck on the cheek as you sit back down to continue your chat, slowly sipping your drink and people-watching.

You get so lost in the conversation you hardly notice Yoongi isn’t back yet but when Jonathan comes back with Millie you look around to realize Yoongi is nowhere to be seen.

“I’m gonna go inside and grab some food.” You tell your cousins as you push yourself up from the chair and walk over to the sliding door cracking it open and entering the quiet house, the noise from the party instantly muted.

You walk to the bathroom on the first floor to see it is free which means Yoongi must be using the upstairs one.

You kick off your heels as you make your way up the hardwood steps, bare feet silent on the floor.

You see the door is closed and you snicker before lightly knocking.

“Occupied!” Yoongi’s voice rings out as you smile.

“Yoongs it’s me.” You reply and you hear him rush to the door and throw it open. He grabs your arm and drags you inside the bathroom shutting the door with his foot and pinning you up against the vanity.

“Yoongi!” You exclaim as his lips find yours and he kisses you with such passion it steals your breath from your lungs.

His hands are holding your hips steady as he ruts into you, his body pushing against yours with such force the countertop bites into your skin.

“Yoongi baby. What’s going on?” You ask breathless as his lips move down to your neck and begin to suck and bite at the skin. His hands frantically rub your sides as he continues to grind his crotch into you.

“Need you. Fuck need you so bad.” He begs as he pulls the straps of your dress down to get more access to your skin and you throw your head back and moan.

His lips are hot against your skin and he is rutting into you in a way where you can feel the full length of his bulge pressing into your core. His hands grip your hips as he fucks into you with force which has your back arching and moans falling from your mouth.

You are in a lust-filled haze as Yoongi’s fingers trail up the slit in your dress, his fingers teasing the inside of your thighs you are about to open your legs and give him what he wants when you hear the sliding door open downstairs and you freeze.

Someone is in the house.

Yoongi doesn’t seem to hear it as he sucks a harsh mark on your neck and you put your hands on his chest to push him back as you hear footsteps downstairs.

“Yoongs we have to stop so-someone is in the house.” You say breathless as he finally looks up at you and you gasp.

His eyes are blown wide and so dark they are almost black. His tongue darts out to wet his swollen lips and his hair is a mess atop his head.

Yoongi lets out a whine and steps forward as you strain to hear if someone is still in the kitchen downstairs. He brings his head to your shoulder and begins to nuzzle your skin, small moans leaving his mouth.

“Yoongs baby what has gotten into you?” You ask softly petting his hair and trying to flatten it as his tongue darts out to lick at your skin.

“I got hard. So fucking hard so I came up here to see if I could make it go away and it won’t fucking go away.” He whines as he rolls his hips into yours giving you delicious friction against your core.

“And you thought furiously making out with me would make it go away?” You tease as he whines loudly against your skin and continues to rut against you desperately. His body still caging you in as he looks up at you through thick lashes and sticks his bottom lip out in a pout.

“I’m so horny and I tried everything to get it to go down but I’m so fucking hard. I didn’t jerk off because…well it’s weird to jerk off in my girlfriend’s parents’ bathroom but baby I’m so fucking horny. It won’t go away.” He whines softly still pouting as his lips come to find your neck once again and he delivers you soft kisses.

You hear the screen door close and you let out a sigh as you push him back from you once more.

“Yoongs baby what got you so horny? You fucked me last night remember?” You say blushing at the memory of you riding him and how good he felt stuffed inside of you.

“Don’t remind me, please. We want this to go away not get harder.” He begs as he buries his head into your chest and lets out a frustrated sigh.

You let out a soft laugh and rub his back affectionately.

You can still feel his cock pressing against your core and you reach a hand down between your bodies to stroke him. He closes his eyes and bites his lip to keep from moaning.

“What got you so horny Yoongs hmmm? My baby boy usually isn’t so desperate.” You say taking on the dominant role as Yoongi’s body seems to soften into yours.

Even though he likes being dominant you find he equally likes being subby and being your baby boy.

“Please don’t freak out.” He says in a small voice as you remove your hand from his cock to stroke at his hair.

The sliding door opens again downstairs and you continue to comfort him.

“Tell me, baby boy. What has my kitten all worked up?” You ask as he flutters his eyes closed and buries his face into your shoulder whining.

“Talking about you being pregnant. At first, I was horrified your mom would bring it up. But then. Thinking of you. Dripping with my seed. Pregnant with my child. All swollen and big… all because we fucked. And fucking you without a condom. God Y/N.” He whispers out as he starts to rut his hips into you again, pushing his cock into your hip and making you bite back a moan.

He ruts against you as you stroke his hair and give him soft kisses to his temple.

“I need to cum so bad, I don’t think my cock is ever going to go down.” He whimpers as he holds you steady and continues to grind against you. His greedy hands rubbing at the bare skin of your arms.

“So you have a pregnancy kink?” You question as he stills his movements to look up at you with lust-blown eyes.

“Yes? No? I don’t know I just know the thought of fucking you, filling you with my cum is making me painfully hard. Help. God, please touch me. Please do something. I can’t go back to the party like this.” He whines desperately as he captures your lips in a heated kiss.

His body is flushed against yours and his hands trail up and down your arms. You feel your core throb at his words as he continues to grind his hips into yours harder, desperate to seek some relief for his aching hard-on that is still trapped in his tight pants.

You part your legs to give him some room and he slots his bulge perfectly against your core. You let out a whine against his lips when he grinds into you frantically, practically humping your leg in the process.

“Want me to jerk you off baby boy? Make you cum around my fist?” You ask as he nods and bites his lip.

You pull away to reach between your bodies to undo the button of his jeans. When you slide the zipper down and open his pants his swollen cock quickly fills up the space and you tease the head of his cock with the tip of your finger.

“Wanna fuck you. God, please let me fuck you.” He begs out as his eyes start to water with desperate tears.

“Do you have a condom? We both aren’t ready for kids yet.” You remind him as you pull his pants down to his ankles and see his cock straining against the dark material of his tight boxers.

You let your fingers dance against his hard shaft and he whines.

“No, I forgot to replace the one in my wallet. I wanna fuck you so bad.” he almost cries.

You’ve seen Yoongi desperate before, usually when you are edging him or having him tied up but you have never seen him desperate like this.

His eyes are wide and tearful and his teeth are biting into his lip. His hands are still grabbing at your arms tightly and he looks on the verge of insanity.

“I know baby boy. I know you want to fuck me but we don’t have a condom so we can’t.”

He lets out a whine as tears slip from his eyes.

“How about I suck you off yeah? Get some of that tension out then when we get home I’ll let you fuck me however you want. With a condom on though. Okay, kitten?” You coo as he nods and you finally pull down his underwear.

What a sight his cock is.

Hard and leaking precum the head is red from the lack of attention and his shaft is twitching slightly.

He groans when you finally wrap a hand around it and you shush him with a giggle.

“You have to be a good Kitten and not make a sound okay? The whole party doesn’t need to know how desperate my baby boy is and how hard his cock is. God Yoongs your so fucking hard for me.” You whisper as you circle his cock and he buries his face on your shoulder to muffle his noises.

You jerk him slowly focusing on the head of his cock as Yoongi moans and whines into your shoulder. He is steadily leaking pre cum and you can feel how pent up he is by how his cock is throbbing in your hand.

“You have to be good now and don’t make noise. I’m gonna suck you off okay kitten. Be good for me yeah?” You ask as Yoongi nods and you sink to the floor sucking at the tip and making his eyes roll in the back of his head and his hips shoot forward.

You jerk his cock in tandem with your mouth and Yoongi is doing everything in his power to stay quiet. Your mouth feels so good against his aching shaft and he can’t help but curl his toes against the tile floor when you take him deep.

Your nose presses against his pubes and he lets a filthy moan slip from his lips. You pull back immediately and look up at him, stilling your movements and driving him to insanity.

“Please don’t stop, please. Y/N I’m so hard it hurts I need to cum please.” He begs out as tears slip down his cheeks.

You lap at the tip of his cock again making him shove his fist in his mouth to keep from screaming. His hands come to tangle in your hair as he forces himself to breathe through his nose and not wildly fuck your throat.

Your hand leaves his shaft to play with his balls which are swollen and begging to be touched. Your hand comes up to fondle them and Yoongi throws his head back as a stifled moan leaves his mouth.

You can feel your own arousal slick on your thighs as you watch Yoongi inch toward orgasm as you work him harder.

You grin against his cock and wrap your fingers around his shaft again. You deep-throat him down and Yoongi lets out a choked moan as he shoves his fingers in his mouth.

“Tell me Yoongs what do you want baby boy?” You ask pulling off from him and resting your head on his shaky thigh.

“Wanna fuck your throat. Please Y/N, please. I’m so close. It hurts. Please I wanna cum” He begs as you obey and suck him back into your mouth and keep your head steady.

His hands come to brace your head and he begins to fuck into your mouth. Softly at first to get you used to the feeling and then he starts to pick up the pace.

He fucks into your mouth harshly as his hands grasp at your hair making your scalp sting. He is trying his best to stay quiet above you as you open your throat wider and tears cloud your vision as he chokes you with his cock.

“Please Y/N, please. I’m gonna cum. Please let me cum. Ohmygod please.” he cries out as he continues to harshly fuck your mouth and you open it wider.

He wails and cums down your throat as you swallow all he gives you.

You keep your nose pressed against his pubes as you swallow him down and soak in the noises he is making above you, somewhere between a groan and a sob as he slows his thrusts.

You take your time pulling off his softening cock and you lick his cockhead clean before standing up on shaky legs to stare at Yoongi.

His hair is a sweaty mess and his eyes are still blown wide. His lips are bruised from all the biting and he looks blissfully fucked out.

“Thank you thank you thank you.” He praises you as he brings his hands up to cup your cheeks and kisses you softly. You can feel the relief radiating off of him.

“Feel better Kitten?” You mutter against his lips as he pulls back and nods suddenly looking shy.

“You are so good to me. God how did I get so lucky.” He praises you as he strokes your hair and continues to pepper kisses on your lips and cheeks.

“I’m the lucky one Yoongs.” You respond as he pulls away and fixes his wild hair.

Your arousal is leaking down your thighs and you grimace when you feel it.

“What’s wrong baby?” He asks as you reach for some toilet paper to get yourself cleaned up.

“Seeing you like that got me all wet. Just gotta get cleaned up kitten.” You say slowly cleaning between your legs.

“I can take care of that you know.” He reminds you with a smirk as you softly smile at him.

“I know you can Kitten but we have been gone from the party long enough because my baby boy was a needy little thing and needed to fuck my throat to feel better.” You remind him as he buries his face in your neck and whines.

“Don’t. Y/N please dont we just got my cock to soften.” He begs as you let out a small chuckle.

“Sorry, Yoongi. I’ll save it for later. Now come on we gotta go back or people will get suspicious.” You say grabbing his hand and exiting the bathroom.

“We could just leave… you know. Take care of things now?” He teases you with a lift of an eyebrow and wink as you smack his arm softly and lead your boy back out to the sunshine and the party.

#Min Yoongi #Yoongi #Yoongi smut #Yoongixreader #Yoongi/reader #yoongixreadersmut #yoongi/reader smut #bts smut #yoongi fic

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ioniiaa · 3 months

Text

My Darling, My Honey

Alastor X Fem!Reader (Part 5)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Quick Notes:

This is when both reader/you and Alastor are both alive. (... we'll probably end up in hell later on btw so stay tuned...)

Reader is an artist/painter.

Part 5:

It was almost pure bliss.

Except many months later, you found out a secret of his one day.

He was an exceptional chef, you were always in awe of how he cooked such magnificent dishes every day.

But one day, you peeked out into the forest through the window in the living room and saw Alastor standing alone, covered in blood. Your first instinct was to run outside, so you did just that.

You rush to his side and ask if he's okay, and what had happened to make him covered in such copious amounts of blood.

He blinks a few times before oddly turning his head to you, breaking out of his stupor, "Oh my dearest (y/n), do not fret so. For I am only acquiring our dinner for tonight!"

You look down at what he is holding in his hands. Your hand shot up to cover your mouth. A leg. A human leg. Your eyes then trail to the ground where you see a bloody human body, mangled beyond recognition. "This is.. dinner?"

A large grin appears on Alastor's face, "Quite right! This one should be enough to last us through the week!"

He looks at your face with an almost vicious look to his eyes, awaiting your response anxiously, not that he would let that show, anyways.

All you can manage is "Oh. Okay." Before you walk back inside the house without another word.

It's no exaggeration to say that your brain chemistry was permanently altered from that moment onward.

The situation felt so strange and bizarre, you didn't know what to think. Part of you knew that was he's been doing is extremely horrible and corrupt. It almost made you empty the contents of your stomach, it didn't feel real.

It didn't feel real, but suddenly some of Alastor's behaviors started to make sense. His picky taste for food...He never let you help with cooking, you had chalked it up to him being more of a perfectionist, but now... you know its more than that. He was hiding the fact that he was butchering and preparing human flesh, right in your very home, all this time.

But.. for some reason... all you could think about was how dedicated he was to providing a comfortable life for you, because he truly loved you. Everything he did every day showed you that you mattered and that you deserved only the best.

"But I still love him with all my heart... maybe I'm just as messed up..." Was a sentence your mind kept repeating to itself for quite some time.

Your appetite shrinks after the initial shock for a few days, but you were never one to skip meals or have your appetite be gone completely, even if you were sick. In this instance, you weren't sure if it was a blessing or a curse in this case.

The meals he made for you had never made you sick in the past, so your body was already used to eating his cooking, and he made such amazing food, carefully crafted with such love and attention to detail, you couldn't help but keep eating his delicious cooking, no matter how bizarre and immoral it was.

"I think I really am just as messed up..." The thought crossed your mind again, but thoughts were interrupted by a rare occurrence, a kiss on the cheek from Alastor as he set your plate down in front of you.

The fact that you never stopped eating his cooking and always thanked him for his food and hard work, even after knowing where the main ingredient comes from, solidified the fact that you were the one. You loved him even after seeing him all bloody, holding a dismembered corpse, and telling you it was dinner. It was this pivotal moment that he knew, that you were the one to be his beloved forever.

In the coming weeks, things went back to "normal". You were settling into the new normal, as Alastor didn't hide the meal prep like he used to, and seeing him bloody and bringing in mysterious cuts of meat into the house became a normal sight to you.

One night when you were going to see Mimzy, Alastor informed you that he was unable to escort you that night. You were a little disappointed, but he assured you it was okay for you to go, it was just that he had plans that he wouldn't divulge any information on, no matter how much you pressed him.

Little did you know, but that night, Alastor was out on the town shopping for the perfect ring to propose to you with.

-> Part 6

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aajjks · 3 months

Text

I love you (m)

synopsis. He is so in love with you and it’s about time he let you know that.

warning. FLÜFF, lövèsïck töjï, hè ïs sö ïn lövê wïth yöü, kïssïng, än ädöräblê cönfêssïön, cöök!töji, FLÜFF FLÜFF FLÜFF! Söft!töjï. Böyfrǐěnd!töjï.

Toji is really learning to appreciate the little things whenever he’s with you.

No, you’re just so sweet and kind, even to someone like him, he’s definitely problematic and complicated, but you still keep up with him despite everything? Why? He wants to ask you but he never has enough courage to.

Funny right? That a shameless man like him feels too shy to ask his girlfriend a question that’s so simple and easy? You make him a different Man.

How? He’s always a smiling man whenever you’re around and he almost cries when he sees you crying over a sad movie that you two watch together sometimes. Or the fact that he wants to spoil you like you’re his everything, every penny he earns? He wants to give it you.

When he’s passing by a mall- he’s got this urge to go inside and buy you a nice present or some makeup supplies because he knows how much you love it.

You’re his princess and he’s your protector because the murderous urges he gets whenever you two are out and he sees multiple creeps staring at you like you’re some kind of a wonder-

Which you are, but only for Toji to look at and smile.

He’s definitely overly posessive and protective about you, you’ve been dating for what? Six or seven months but he already feels himself falling for you deeper and deeper for you.

So tonight, he’s finally going to say it- he knows that you want to hear him say it so badly, whenever a character on screen says ‘I love you’ to their female lead, your eyes are on him every time.

He’s waiting for you to come to his house, he did message you to meet at him at his place, you should be here soon- he’s eagerly waiting for you because he wants to surprise you.

Yeah, he doesn’t cook often at all? It’s all you, who’s always feeding your big guy with delicious meals and frankly he’s addicted to your cooking.

You’re giving his mama tough competition.

Toji did everything right, he’s kind of a perfectionist, especially when it comes to impressing you, everything has to be perfect.

The scented candles he got for this occasion are the perfect scent because they are exactly the ones you like, he noticed them in your home.

And the flowers are also your favorite, tulips. They’re your lock screen too that’s how obsessed you are with them, he can’t help but notice the littlest things about you.

It’s almost creepy.

And the food- oh he’s so proud of himself for cooking it- he was at it since the early morning honestly, but he’s not going to tell you about that.

In short, you’re going to love everything tonight.

Toji doesn’t flinch when he hears the door unlocking, his heartbeat flutters however, when he realizes that you’re here.

“Yn, princess you’re here.” He whispers as your scent immediately goes to his nostrils, and he inhales the sweet smell.

“Yeah, baby I missed you.” You walk over to him and he’s in the dining hall right past his living room, and when you’re back hug him, he feels his heart melting because you’re shorter compared to him and he’s big muscular and tall, you barely reach his shoulders- so instead, you wrap your arms around his muscular arms.

And then, when you finally notice something you gasp.

Toji smirks.

“Toji… don’t tell me you did all of this for me.” How do you have the most adorable voice in the whole universe? “Yes I did, honey.” Don’t blame him because you’re too adorable, and he has a habit of calling you every single nickname in the relationship book.

“Now come on and sit on the dining table, I bet you’re hungry.” He smiles, turning his back so he can look at your face.

And God knows you have the most beautiful face.

God definitely took time creating you- and he’s so glad.

With the most minimal make up on your face and with your hair down, he loves it when your hair is down, you pay so much attention to his likes and dislikes that just makes him love you even more.

Yes, he loves you and he’s going to tell you that officially tonight.

“Mhmm it smells so good and I noticed you got tulips and my favorite scented candles lit up.. your house always smells amazing.” You press a kiss right behind his ear before he pulls out your chair for you.

See now normally he doesn’t do these romantic things. He doesn’t remember the last time he did this. so he feels a little awkward doing this, but it doesn’t feel weird.

“Sit.” He then goes to his kitchen to grab the dishes. Some of them are traditional Japanese dishes because that’s all he really knows how to cook but don’t worry he got your favorite too.

You clap like a little girl when he puts the delicious food on the table for you, and it just makes his heart clench in his chest because you’re so sweet.

Toji sits right beside you, and before you can grab your plate and take the food yourself, he beats you to it because he wants to do it for you.

“Ahh yn let me do it.”

You give him a look and he continues with his work, “now eat, my love.” And just like that you both begin eating. Your occasional moans from the taste of the food Definitely distract him because he choked on his food for a good three times.

“D-Do you need water? I’m sorry but the food is just so delicious…. Can’t help it.” You say, as you stare at the curry in front of you.

“N-No yn just continue eating I’m sorry” he laughs, before diving in once again.

like the sweet girl that you really are you ask him about his day, even though he didn’t leave for work today he took the day off.

And then you start telling him about your day, and he loves to listen to your little rants. Your eyes get wide, and you make the most adorable expressions.

Just like that an hour goes by and you’re still sitting at the dining table when he’s picking up the dirty dishes, and yes, he insisted for you to get up and help him because this is not for you to do.

And he’s so glad that you loved his food because you keep on praising him and stop it before he blushes. “Ugh…” after he comes back from the kitchen after putting the dirty dishes in his dishwasher, toji takes your hand and guides you to the couch in the living room.

“Yn I have to tell you something.” And he’s nervous all over again. You look at him all look confused, “what is it babe?” There is honestly nothing for you to be concerned about so he should just say it before you get worried.

“Yn… I..I..” he’s stutters like the helpless man he is. You don’t speak you just not and look at him with love. And that gives him a little bit of motivation.

Come on, just say it, Toji!

before he can chicken out, you grab his hand and squeeze it, you know him so well, he inhales before taking a few seconds to compose himself and he looks into your eyes.

“I..I love you yn.” And now his heart feels so light, Toji doesn’t care if you’re not going to say it back, it’s okay, he’s a mature man- he can wait.

no please just say it back yn!

He is not looking at you anymore because as soon as the words leave his mouth, he tries to avert his eyes from you but you grab his face and now you’re making him look at you.

He’s sure you can feel the freshly shaved skin of his chin, you like the feeling a lot. Toji is silent, “I-It’s okay yn you don’t have-” but before he can complete his sentence, you kiss him.

And he cannot help but be surprised because he’s always the one that kisses you first, you’ve taken a lead this time and he’s amazed.

He kisses you back eagerly and you’re still grabbing his face so he settles his hands on your shoulders, and you both have the most romantic and passionate kiss ever.

He doesn’t want you to pull away, but to his dismay, you pull away after a few minutes, he just wants to bask in the feeling of your lips on his, you can never get enough of kissing you.

Before he can whine about the lack of contact, you push your head against his. You’re breathing loudly, he is panting, it is safe to say you left him speechless, and breathless.

“I always wanted to hear you say it and… I love you too.. I love you so much, Toji.”

He doesn’t believe the words that come out of your mouth because what the fuck. Toji’s can’t help but stare at you with his wide eyes. “Y-Yn do you really mean it? I..I.”

Once again, he’s speechless.

You smile at him before caressing his cheek.

“Of course silly. I just wanted you to say it first.” You give him a small kiss once more and he closes his eyes, thinking to himself that he’s so lucky man alive and he’s never going to let you go.

He won’t give you a chance to because he’ll make you so happy.

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norrussell · 6 months

Text

What Are Friends For | George Russell⁶³

Pairings: George Russell x fem!bestfriend!reader

Summary: George is frustrated after a bad race and as his best friend you take it as your responsibility to make him feel better

Warnings: smut

A/N: this could be taken as part 2 of this, but you don't have to necessarily read it

George was charging through the Mercedes motorhome to his driver's room. Barely catching up to his long strides, you followed after him. Immediately, it was obvious that something was wrong. He didn't even stop to take off his helmet, much less check on you. The last time he had sprinted into the hospitality like this, he had collided with a TV crew and sent them rolling across the concrete floor.

The race started good, excellent even. The lead-in to the start was exciting. The initial straightaway was wide and flat, then leading down into a series of lazy curves. He blazed past the other racers with ease. Everything indicated that he was going to win that one, or at least end up on the podium. But everything took a wrong turn in the end.

Like he didn't know you were behind him, he almost slammed the door shut in your face.

"George!" you pushed through, but it was like he didn't even notice you.

He was in a state of frenzy, pacing around the room, his helmet still on and his eyes wild and unfocused. You had seen him like this only a handful of times before, and it always meant trouble. You knew how important this race was for George. He had been working tirelessly for weeks, preparing for this moment only to be taken away in a matter of seconds.

A stream of muffled curse words left his mouth as he finally began to remove his helmet.

"George, it's not your fault..." you knew better than to speak up right now, but you felt like you should say something when you're already there.

George turned to you with a look of anger in his eyes. "Not my fault?! Do you even know what happened out there?!" he shouted, dropping his helmet on the desk. "I was leading the race, and that idiot just had to ram into me and send me spinning off the track!"

You took a step back, not wanting to push him further, but George continued his tirade. "I had it in the bag, I was going to win, but now it's all ruined!" he yelled, pacing back and forth across the room.

"I know, George, but it happens to the best of them," you said, trying to calm him down.

George turned to you, his chest heaving with anger. "I don't want to hear it," he spat. "I'm sick and tired of this. I pour my heart and soul into this sport, and for what? To have it all taken away in an instant?"

You watched as he ran his hands through his hair, his eyes filled with frustration and disappointment. You knew that George was a perfectionist, and losing was not an option for him.

You nodded, understanding. "I'm sorry, George. I know it's tough."

He let out a heavy sigh. "I don't know what to do. I feel like I let everyone down. My team, my sponsors, myself."

"You didn't let anyone down, George. These things happen. It's part of the sport," you said, trying to reassure him.

"But I was so close to winning. I could taste it," he muttered, staring off into the distance.

"You'll have another chance," you said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You're a great driver, George. You'll bounce back from this."

George glared at you, his voice low and dangerous. "I don't want to just win the next race. I wanted to win this one. This was my chance and I lost it."

You took a step back, unsure of what to say to him. You knew that he was in a delicate state, and any wrong word could set him off again. There was a moment of silence, as the two of you stood there, the weight of the disappointment heavy in the air.

"If there's anything I can do to help-"

"How could you possibly help?!" he snapped again, turning around.

You flinched at the tone of his voice, closing your eyes and reassuring yourself that he wasn't mad at you. He slumped onto the couch, covering his face with his hands. After a moment, he dragged them down along his face exhaling deeply.

"I'm sorry." he said more softly, his eyes searching for yours.

"It's fine." you said. "I've gotten used to it. I know you're not actually upset with me." you gave him a weak smile.

"I don't want you getting used to something that shouldn't even happen in the first place." he looked at you apologetically.

"I don't mind-"

"You should." he cut you off.

"Alright then, let me help you feel better." you walked up to him and stood in between his legs.

George looked up at you, exhaustion evident in his eyes. "I don't think anything can make me feel better right now," he said, his voice flat.

"Well, there's one thing I can certainly try to ease the tension." your hands undid the collar of his suit and found the zipper, pulling it down.

"Wh-What are you-"

"Just relax, George." you smiled, your hands removing the overalls from his broad shoulders and revealing his black fireproofs.

George's eyebrows furrowed as he watched you, confusion written all over his face. He was still too caught up in his own disappointment to understand what you were doing. You leaned in closer to him, your fingers trailing over his chest. Your palms slid down his abdomen as you sank down to your knees in front of him.

George's eyes widened as he watched you sink to your knees, his breath catching in his throat. He couldn't believe what was happening, but he also couldn't deny that his body was responding to your touch, his eyes darting back to the door for a moment before returning to you. You could see the tension in his body slowly dissipating as you continued to touch him.

Just when you were about to take his racing suit further down, he caught at your wrists.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice shaking slightly.

"Yeah, you helped me last time, now I want to return the favor."

"You don't have to do this. You don't owe me anything." he looked more intensely in your eyes.

It's been a few weeks since the event that occurred in George's kitchen, but neither of you has mentioned it at all since then, as per your request. Although you didn't let it show, it was lingering in the back of your mind, constantly nagging you.

"I know." you said like it was obvious. "But I want to. Let me take care of you like you took care of me."

George hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours. Then he nodded, his grip on your wrists loosening as he leaned back on the couch. "Okay," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, your fingers continuing their exploration of his body, taking in the contours of his muscles and the warmth of his skin. George inhaled sharply as your hands continued to undress him, his hips lifting up to help you, revealing the tight black boxers he wore underneath. You ran your hands over the bulge in his shorts, feeling him start to harden under your touch.

"Is this okay?" you asked, your eyes meeting his.

His eyes seemed to soften, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. He nodded slowly, "Definitely."

You dug your fingers in the waistband of his underwear, but there he was, stopping you again.

"It's not too late to back out of this if you want." he put his hands over yours.

"George, I swear to god if you interrupt me again I just might. I am not backing out." you said, your voice firm and unwavering.

"Sorry." he put his hands up in defense, smiling a little.

You slid his boxers down, taking in the sight of his growing cock, shiny and wet with a small drop of pre-cum. You rubbed your thumb over the head, feeling the pre-cum spread over his shaft. George moaned, his hands going to your hair, running his fingers through it. He let his head fall back on the couch, his eyes closed as his hips started moving in small circles.

George's cock was nice and long, and seeing it only made you want to taste it. You let your hand crawl up the column of his cock, teasing the underside with your fingers.

"Ahh, y/n..." he groaned, a look of pleasure on his face.

You felt a shiver run through your body at the sound of your name. The amount of passion and lust in that one word was like music to your ears. You felt your confidence rise at the sound of it, your lips wrapping around his head.

George let out another groan, his body arching towards you. You bobbed your head up and down, your tongue curling around his cock as you moved.

It was warm and smooth, and you couldn't get enough of it. The taste flooded your mouth. You felt yourself getting wet, the sound of George's heavy breathing spurring you on. You continued to work his cock, letting it hit the back of your throat before letting it slide back out, your hands softly cupping his balls.

George let out another moan as you nailed his sweet spot, his cock hitting the back of your mouth over and over. His hips started to buck against you as he approached his climax, a hand gripping the back of your head.

Your jaw was getting tired from sucking him off, but you didn't want him to finish just yet. You released him from your mouth, lapping at his tip, letting your tongue circle around him. You let go of him, taking a break before you took him back in your mouth, sucking on him even harder than before, letting your spit drip all over his cock.

"Please, don't stop." he panted, his voice hot and heavy.

You hummed a little around his member, your hands gripping his hips as you deep throated him more. You watched as his toes curled, his eyes closed shut, his face completely lost in pleasure.

"Ahh.. ahh..." he gasped, his body tensing up. "I'm coming." He let out one last moan before you felt his cock throbbing in your mouth.

Then he released, warm cum shooting into your mouth. "You don't have to... Fuck, you swallowed."

You let the salty liquid slide down your throat, massaging his cock as you slowly released it, sucking the last of it from the tip while keeping eye contact. You licked your lips, savoring the taste.

"Wait," he said, and ran his thumb over the corner of your mouth, wiping off any leftovers.

You grabbed his wrist and put his finger into your mouth, sucking and twirling your tongue around it.

He sighed, his body feeling lighter than it has in a long time. "Holy shit."

You released his thumb with a pop, smiling mischievously. "Is that all you can say?"

"I'm still recovering from this," he said, his voice light and airy as he looked down at you. His chest heaved heavily as he caught his breath, his hands moving to brush through your hair, lightly gripping your scalp. "God, you're amazing."

"So... You feel better?" you asked, your eyes watching his, a light from within them that wasn't there before.

He nodded, a smile on his lips. "Much better."

"Good." you said, the sight of him making you feel good.

"Uh, I should clean up..." he said.

"Oh, right," you exclaimed, pulling up his boxer for him and standing up.

"Wait," he said, grabbing your hand. "Can we... not let this get awkward between us?"

Maybe George finally understood how you felt the last time when you asked the same from him.

You nodded, your hand still in his. "Of course not."

"Great," he said, his free hand grabbing yours. He pulled you towards him, his hand running up and down your side. "I really, really enjoyed this."

"I did too," you replied, your hand on his chest.

"Thank you." he kissed your forehead and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

As you sat at the desk, you couldn't help but think about what you had done. Even though the gesture was for George, there was a part of you that knew it was for yourself too. Ever since he helped you get off that one time at his place, your mind wouldn't stop replaying the memory. You knew that something like that could never happen again, but now that you've repaid him -even though he would have never asked- there was a weight lifted off your shoulders.

You understood that no matter what happened between you two, that even if things were awkward at first, in the grand scheme of things everything would be okay. Your friendship was stronger than anything else. You've overcome it before, you can certainly do it again.

That was, until…

Next part

721 notes · View notes

kquil · 9 months

Text

POLY MARAUDERS | HEROES IN TATTOOS ⏤FIRST PIERCING

REQUEST. : Can I request a chapter where the boys convince the reader to get her ears pierced and she cries bc she's anxious when it happens and one of the boys has her sit on their lap when it's happening and help her calm down. You don't have to but i think it would be super cute —@samanddeansannoyingsis

G. : fluff ; modern au ; muggle au ; tattoo artist james ; tattoo artist sirius ; piercer remus ; comfort ; sitting in sirius's lap ; slight panic attack - not explicit

LENGTH : 1.9k

“Did you mean it?” You ask in a soft voice as Remus swivels in his tech chair to pay you his full attention, one brow raising up at the sight of your fingers gently pinching your ear lobes.

“Did I mean what, dove?” He asks in his usual warm tone, tilting his head back to stare up at you from his seat.

“That I would look cute with ear piercings…”

Remus laughs because how cute can you get? Especially with that curious look in your doe eyes. Reaching out his big hands, he pulls you onto his thigh and holds you close, staring down with his loving brown eyes to reassure you of any insecurities he suspects might arise.

Somehow, Remus always knew what path your thoughts could potentially take. You felt like an open book to him, cradled in his large hands, stable and loving; ready to explore your pages with the simple intent to understand you further, as he’s already done with the few pages you’ve allowed him to read in your past. To you, Remus is safety, comfort and boundless warmth, not from the sun but from a thick blanket, reassuring and all encompassing, devoted to only keeping you warm — safe, happy and secure.

“Yes, I meant it,” Remus whispers as he fixes the collar of your shirt, ever the habitual perfectionist, “why?” His gaze lifts and you’re lost in his honey-chocolate pools once more, “are you thinking of getting your ears pierced?” you don’t know if the lilt in his tone is to tease or a growing excitement for your potential inclination — he may have the honour of giving you your first piercing.

“Maybe…” he can tell from the slight hesitancy in your diction that you weren’t 100% sold on the idea, which brings about his own worries.

“You don’t need a piercing to be cute you know,” Remus mutters the sentiment into your temple before pressing a kiss into your skin, “you’re plenty cute as is…”

“It’s not that,” the shaky breath you exhale is all too familiar to the brunette and he instantly knows your exact reasoning, he still lets you speak the words yourself, however, somewhat enjoying the show you unintentionally play out before him. It’s another cute display, one that rivals whenever he sees you eating something delicious, and can’t control your expression or when you get excited over something and hop in place while doing tiny claps, “I’m still kinda scared of needles…”

The shame that crosses your face tugs at Remus’s heart and he puts a stop to it immediately. Holding your chin between his pointer finger and thumb he directs your stare to meet his own, “don’t feel ashamed of that, sweetheart. Being afraid is normal and, in some instances, keeps people alive and safe. It’s unfortunate but fear led you to the boys and me,” he hates to remind you of that fateful night but— “and now I don’t think we can live without you,” the two of you share a laugh at that.

The boys were truly grateful to you for many things. You may not know it but whenever angry, sad or stressed all they had to do was look at you, see your smiling face, hear your twinkling laugh and bask in the brightness you exude just to feel right again. You bring about an equilibrium that they are so often tipped off of, never totally right or sane when you are gone too long.

“I—…I still don’t know,”

“Try this,” Remus leans back to pose his hypothetical, “forget the needle and the pain, would you still like to wear earrings?” your enthusiastic nod is answer enough, “then…—“ from the corner of his eye, Sirius walks past the doorway and Remus calls for him.

“How may I help you and our princess, Moony?” Sirius asks with a practised smiling voice as he shoots you a wink.

“Do you mind fetching the earring jewellery samples?” Sirius raises a brow but asks no questions and nods before disappearing again. While he’s gone, you stare up at Remus, who doesn’t say a word but smiles and lovingly tucks a stray hair behind your ear. Not long after, Sirius returns with a small set of samples in a rectangular wooden box, lined with red velvet and showcasing a small but beautiful variety of jewellery.

“Aren’t they beautiful?”

“They’re very beautiful, Rem,” you reply, awing at their delicate designs and sparkling appearance.

“Pick a favourite pair,” he prompts and without hesitation, you pick the two that immediately caught your eye.

“Great choice, doll,” Sirius praises as Remus hands back the sample set and gives him a look, communicating his next steps. There was no debate and Sirius accepted everything without any questions, “we’ll reserve them for you,” Sirius smiles softly and quickly leaves to do just that before you can utter any word of protest.

“Tell us when you’re ready, and we’ll make it happen so that you’re as comfortable as can be throughout,”

Every time you visit the boys at their tattoo studio, they let you have the reserved piercings to look over and contemplate your decision with. They were perfectly happy to wait however long you needed and never pushed you towards a decision, they even expressed that it was perfectly okay for you to change your mind and withdraw from the idea altogether.

“You know,” James pipes up with a mouthful of food that Remus quickly reprimands him for, “you don’t need to get a piercing to wear earrings,”

“That’s right, there are other alternatives out there, dollface,” Sirius adds, licking his lips with a content smile, always a lover for your cooking, “you can wear clip on earrings instead,”

You appreciate their concern and thoughtfulness but you still want to get a piercing. It felt like a right of passage for all girls and you wanted to be a part of it, clip-ons didn't feel the same and you wanted to be able to pair your earrings with an outfit like some of your friends do. Shaking your head with a polite smile, you turn to Remus, “You’ll be doing my piercing, right, Rem?”

“That’s right, dove,”

Timidly, you meet his kind eyes, “will you be able to hold me when you do it?” Your shy statement was all they needed to realise what was holding you back. They felt so stupid for not realising it sooner but, thankfully, they knew how to help you now.

“I’m afraid not, sweetheart,” Remus coos softly at your disappointed expression but James and Sirius don’t let you wear it for long.

“But Prongs and I can hold you for as long as you need, doll!” Sirius smiles as James grins toothily beside him.

“Just take your pick on whose lap you think will be more comfortable!” James laughs with Sirius as he throws his arm over his friend’s shoulders.

“In that case,” you turn towards Remus with a smile once more, “when is the next available time I can set up an appointment?”

It was in the afternoon when you found yourself seated on Sirius’s lap as Remus prepared to pierce your ears. James, to his dismay, had an appointment for a tattoo so Sirius won lap rights by default, which he was all too proud to have won.

In preparation for the piercings, Sirius helped tie your hair up so that your ears were free of their awning, he did this while Remus prepared his tools, put on his gloves and got started on a small aftercare kit for you to take home — as was customary of their studio to provide for all their customers. With Sirius’s arms comfortingly wrapped around your waist, he pressed you close so that you could feel the heat from his chest against your back and allowed him access to your neck, where he placed a soft kiss.

After a while, Remus walks over with a soft look on his face and a sanitising wipe in a gloved hand, “you two look cosy,” he comments while gently cleansing your lobes with the wipe and throwing it away in a nearby bin.

“Our princess deserves it,” Sirius comments, his hot breath tickling your neck and making you giggle as Remus agrees.

“That she does,” leaning back, the tall brunette sits in his tech chair and pulls up a small handheld mirror and pen, “now, dove, I need you to tell me where you want your piercing. Do you want it a little higher? Right in the middle or a little lower, here?” In the mirror he holds in front of you, you see him point out where the potential piercing can go with the tip of his pen, “I want to do it perfectly for you,” he smiles warmly behind the mirror, which carries in his voice — soft and sweet.

“And if you want more piercings in the future, you can make room for them now,” Sirius adds from behind you.

“I want it right in the middle please, Rem,”

“Of course,” he nods and places the markings softly onto your lobe before holding up the mirror again for your final approval.

“W-won’t the pen make the sanitising pointless,” you comment, shy of your scrutiny; Remus was the expert, afterall.

“Don’t worry, dove,” he kisses your forehead before holding up the capped pen, “this is a surgical skin marker and it’s used in surgeries to mark out incision lines,” your apprehended by his gentle tone and warm voice, calming your heart that had slowly begun to race with anticipation, “the ink is made of gentian violet, which has antifungal properties so it won’t affect the sterility of the marked area,”

When you nod in understanding, Remus kisses your forehead once more and goes to store away the pen before finally getting started on your piercing.

“It’ll be okay, sweetheart,” Sirius whispers into your hair when he hears the unsteady shake in your breaths — Remus had just sat down across from you in his tech chair with a needle in hand and a small stopper in the other.

“Look away, darling… close your eyes,” Remus prompts when he sees your breathing pick up at the sight of the needle in his hand. He is completely ignored and nods at the tattooist behind you, “Sirius, can you help our angel?”

You feel Sirius kiss your temple as his arms give you a small squeeze. His weight, warmth and smell surrounds your senses and the boys helpfully guide your breathing until you are finally able to relax. The tension leaves your body and you finally close your eyes, apologising for your small episode.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, dove,” Remus whispers softly in front of you, “but I’m gonna have to ask you to take a deep breath for me,” you do as he says, breathing deep and slow, “good girl…”

There’s a small pinch in your right lobe that quickly dulls into numbness before Remus secures something behind it and a lingering weight is left. You feel Sirius kiss the slope of your shoulder, muttering soft praises as he does so. There’s some shuffling before you feel Remus take his place before you again.

“One more time, dove, take a deep breath…” he gently commands as you easily follow. There’s another small pinch but in your left lobe this time. Again, Remus secures something behind it and as the numbness lingers so does an added weight.

Your eyes flutter open just as Remus presses a kiss onto your forehead, “you were such a good girl for me,” he praises, smiling and then holds up a mirror for you to admire the delicate earrings decorating your ears with a bright smile, “it suits you, darling,”

“You just keep getting prettier,” Sirius chuckles and squeezes you in his arms once more, ”well done, princess,”

A/N : i went a little overboard with the writing, i didn't know it would stretch on for so long but i hope you enjoy the read! i'm sorry it took me a while to fulfil this request, life kinda got in the way but here it is! please tell me what you think!

NAVI. | HEROES IN TATTOOS SERIES

TAGLIST : @melinajenkins @astonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @sageskisses444 @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @neeezza101 @chaosofmanyfandoms @susyelectra @fangirlninja67 @pagesfalling @thepunisherfrankcastle @axeofwars @imarimon @justkiyomi @in-love-with-4-marauders @chicken-taco-burrito @valencia-sou @feast0nmeee @lestat-whore @hvmxjjk @twilightlover2007 @diaryofabiwoman @woohoney @celestialfantasiess @willbedecided @lovelyygirl8 @iiirhiane-g @ghostgardn @mess-is-my-aesthetic

#james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #poly marauders x reader #poly marauders #marauders fic #sirius black #marauders #sirius x reader #sirius black fic #james potter #james potter fanfiction #james potter x you #the marauders #remus lupin #remus lupin fluff

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yandere-romanticaa · 5 months

Note

I need some Yandere Bokuto and Yandere Akaashi! Maybe together because of the friendship bokuto and akaashi have if thats alright (If not then do it seperate)

This would be one of the most functional pairs to have, even despite their stark and clashing personalities.

You most likely met them in highschool and it was a blast to be around them. Albeit, a bit intense at times. Bokuto was incredibly difficult to keep up with, especially if you're on the more introverted side. He wants you to attend absolutely every single game he and Akaashi are in, he's not even against you coming to practice either! Please do just that, it boosts him so much!

Even if he does get distracted by your smile sometimes but who cares! He certainly does not!

Bokuto is like a whirlwind storm - you never know when to expect him but you know that once he steps close there will be nothing but chaos. He's fun, kind. Gentle even. He tries to be, for you. He can be oblivious towards your feelings sometimes but he always has your best interests at heart.

He would never forgive himself if something happened to you.

Bokuto is needy, incredibly so. If he's not holding or kissing you 24/7 then what's even the point? You give him energy, your mere presence gives him drive and confidence like nothing else. Soon enough his presence starts to become suffocating. He is so deeply intertwined in your life, like sticky glue which you can't shake off no matter how hard you try. He managed to force his way into every possible crevice inside your life and he is always aware of what he's doing. His perfectionist nature commands him to do so.

However, if Bokuto is the powerful storm itself, Akaashi is the calm before the storm.

He lurks. Constantly.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depends who you're asking) there are times when Bokuto can't be with you no matter how badly he wants to be. Akaashi becomes something of a second shadow of yours, constantly tailing after you, taking care of you in the most subtle yet gentle ways. He offers you water regularly, he has you wear his warm jacket on warm days and he regularly chastises you if you think of doing something stupid. He's not completely sweet to you though, his dry personality does not allow for that.

Akaashi throws all sorts of remarks your way but they're never hurtful. Bokuto is usually the victim for his quick witted jabs, but, when he says them to you they're just. Different. They're laced with affection and playfulness but his stoic face masks the true meaning behind his words. He keeps tabs on you in any way he can and Bokuto quickly catches on to this.

They don't have a proper discussion about the situation they're in. The two just come to a silent agreement that they will share you. They already know each other well and their trust cannot be shaken. Neither one is against sharing you with the other.

There are times when you are a fun trio of idiots, simply living life. You have dinner and goof off. Bokuto makes you laugh and Akaashi feeds you fresh food from the table. Bokuto has an iron clad grip on your waist while Akaashi blocks your exit. Despite the lighthearted atmosphere, there's a thick layer of tension in the air. They smile, but it's not reaching their eyes.

Could they be hiding something?

You are paranoid, you rationalize. What could these two clowns have something to hide?

Time passes, you're all still as thick as thieves. Bokuto has become a professional volleyball player and Akaashi became a manga editor. Due to his strict schedule, Bokuto can't see you as often as he'd like... Which is all day, every day. At least in highschool he had the excuse of classes but now?

He's got nothing!

That's where his good old pal Akaashi comes in.

He sends Bokuto photos daily. The duo have countless folders dedicated to you, all of which have different themes and aesthetics. Akasshi sneaks in as many as he can and you won't ever catch him in the act.

He has years of experience snapping photos of you in every way imaginable. If you ever had the misfortune of looking into his computer files, he'd go to jail for life.

Despite their hectic schedules, both of them manage to keep a tight leash on you. Bokuto is quick to make work of anyone who has any sort of romantic inkling towards you, unless Akaashi tears into them first with his sharp tongue.

Neither option is safe. If you're on the receiving end of either, you will be left in a puddle of your own tears. Perhaps even blood.

You cry and complain to them - why have all your friends left you? Was there something wrong with you? Why was no one looking at you, what sort of defect did you have?

Akaashi's shirt is soaked in your bitter tears as he has his hands on your shoulders while Bokuto sits behind you, his chest pressed straight against your back. He is doing everything he can to not pounce on you right there and then but he knows better - patience is key. Pity he lacks that quality.

Luckily for him though, Akaashi has it in spades.

And they sit there with you on the sofa, the soft pitter patter of the rain hitting the window as you sob your heart out towards your two closest friends, oblivious to all of the things that they have done. You don't know how many people Bokuto had to beat up in order to get you where you are. You don't know how many people Akaashi had to scare the living crap out of in order to have you in his arms.

Bokuto gently blows in your ear, most likely in a teasing manner. You look up and in your shaky gaze are met with Akaashi's hungry stare, his dark eyes boring so deep into your own that you feel as though he could swallow you whole. A pair of powerful arms wrap themselves around your waist, securing you in place as Bokuto places his lips on your neck. He nibbles on the soft flesh as Akaashi leans in and steals the kiss he had dreamed about all those years ago.

Finally, they have you. No one is coming for you, they made sure of it. You don't need anyone anymore. They are your world from this point onwards.

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lovebugism · 5 months

Note

Okay, for your Blurbcember what about "Don't you think gingerbread houses with gingerbread men are kinda morbid? I mean, it's a house made out of flesh?" with Steve? And reader just pauses, bag of icing in hand while the gingerbread roof slowly slips off and stares at Steve like boy, I love you but what tf is in your eggnog?

you might be genius for this one, anon. hope u like it!! — you, the grump of the group, try hopelessly to decorate a gingerbread house with your perfectly ditzy bf (grump!reader, established relationship, fluff, 0.8k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

“We can’t decorate this if you keep eating all the candy. You know that, right?” Your voice comes in a concentrated, half-annoyed monotone. You’d be grumpier about it if you weren’t so focused. Now, you’re more worried about piping even shingles on the gingerbread roof than your boyfriend eating all of your supplies.

Steve stops chewing with a cheekful of something sugary. “Sorry,” he apologizes, mostly muffled.

You lay the piping bag on the tabletop and flash a deadpanned glance to the boy beside you. With his hair grown out and pushed over his head, chiseled jaw scruffy and unshaven, and ugly Christmas sweater pushed up to his elbows — you think he’s the coziest he’s ever looked. Far too pretty to be mad at.

“Can you hand me the gumdrops?”

He nods enthusiastically, happy to finally help in some way. He reaches to his left for the plastic bag of vividly colored candies. The bag is lighter than he expected, and much much emptier. It shouldn’t surprise him. He’s the one that ate them all.

“Sorry…” he repeats as he passes the bag to you. He gives you a crooked smile in return, an enthusiastic glimmer in the honey of his eye. “It looks really pretty so far, though!”

“Yeah, no thanks to you,” you murmur.

Dustin told you that this was usually a team effort, a friendly competition between the whole group, but your fingers are the only ones cramping now. You delicately stick each gumdrop into place and try to ignore how tense your wrist has gotten. You figure the Henderson boy must be much of the same in the living room — he’s too much of a perfectionist for anything else.

“You’re the one that told me to stop helping!”

“‘Cause you almost broke the ceiling off, remember?”

“You underestimate my strength, sweetheart,” Steve argues, only half-joking. He leans his elbow on the table and props his scruffy chin on a balled-up fist. “My strong hands can crack that gingerbread, no problem.”

“Yeah. Okay,” you scoff.

“It doesn’t have to be perfect, okay? We just have to make it better than Dustin’s, because I do not want to spend another year with that little shit bragging about making the best house.”

Dustin Henderson is a little super genius, and Nancy, Robin, and Will are the judges this year. The odds of beating everyone’s favorite smartmouth aren’t exactly in your favor. You’re not the most creative person either, but you are pretty competitive. To a fault, some might say.

Honestly, the only reason you took this gig was because you wanted to spend more time with Steve.

He doesn’t need to know that, though.

“Well, you didn’t have me a year ago, did you?” you quip, eyes still trained on the creation before you.

Steve grins so wide that it’s audible in his sickly sweet tone. “No. I didn’t. I got real lucky this go around, didn’t I?”

His smile grows when your face screws up in annoyance. “You’re disgusting…”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Hand me the candy canes,” you tell them. And then, because you’re trying to be nicer — “Please.”

With his lips quirked in a lopsided smile, he hands you the plastic bag. You stick a couple of the mini sticks into the makeshift yard, then break the ends off to use as windowsills. You put two of them together in a heart shape and stick them to the front of your house, just below the roof.

Steve’s chest swells with warmth. “Aw, that’s cute. You big softie.”

“Shut up…” you grumble.

“It’s a compliment,” the boy laughs, a sunshine sound that turns the kitchen golden. He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. The bottom of his sweater lifts slightly, flashing a sliver of his stomach. “It’s real nice, you know, for a gingerbread house and everything.”

You squint at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, I mean— don’t you think gingerbread houses are kinda morbid? Like… It’s a house. Made out of their flesh.” He explains it all like it’s obvious, like it’s a thought he’s had a million times before. He scoffs out a laugh, amused by your visible confusion. “It’s kinda weird when you think about it.”

At a loss for words, you blink at the boy beside you. You don’t think you’ve ever been more dumbfounded — more in love with anybody else in the whole entire world.

Steve is so much different than you are. You’re sometimes too serious, easily annoyed, and a little bit gauche. And Steve is… like walking into the sun. He’s like walking into the sun for the very first time after a terribly long winter.

“What?” he says, chuckling at the silence. The plastic on the table crinkles audibly when he reaches for another gumdrop. He chucks three into his mouth at once, then remembers he isn’t supposed to be eating them at all. “Oh, shit— sorry, babe.”

“Did you spike the eggnog?” you blurt.

“No,” he scoffs, trying to get the candy out of the back of his teeth with his tongue.

You shake your head with a distant smile and try hopelessly to hide it from him. “You’re crazy,” you murmur under your breath.

Steve grins, lopsided and rosy, and with grains of sugar stuck to the corners of his mouth. “Yeah. For you.”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #st drabbles #stevie drabble #event: blurbcember

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thatsdemko · 1 year

Text

happiness comes in ice cream - m.verstappen

masterlist

requested: n

pairing: max verstappen x reader

warnings: mentions of jos + healing inner childhood

a/n: no f1 this weekend means not being disappointed.. but also if you can donate and help imola please follow the link here. feedback is always appreciated xx

max has a pretty perfect life. he’s got a world championship title, an amazing car and team, perfect support, and a perfect significant other. the one thing that stands in his way for true happiness, his father.

you’ve heard the countless stories of how his father, jos, never treated him like a child always like a pawn of success or an adult at the young ages. it saddens you, that he never had a real childhood, and it hurts even more that he thinks the treatment he got was normal.

you told him your upbringings, they aren’t perfect either, but in comparison you can’t complain. your dad never made you walk home because you lost a race. max deserved true happiness, and everyday you see him fight his father more and more for that distance. the distance for a better life.

“horrible race. p2? you can’t let checo out pace you.” jos scoffs his son, you can see the anger in his fathers eyes. the disappointment, like his son hadn’t done enough and tried his best.

“it just wasn’t in the cards.” max shrugs, it bothers him to get second. he’s a perfectionist at heart and wants every race to be his best, but when he looks at you? all of his anger and frustration diminishes.

“you did well.” you chime in, hand reaching for his, he takes it. lips pressing a sweet soft kiss to your knuckles as he mumbles a thank you.

jos just tries to snap his son out of it, you can see in Max’s eyes he’s exhausted from his routine. even if he gets pole position his father is still not happy, there’s just no win. it’s starting to affect your relationship with his family, you can’t look jos in the eyes yet alone stand to have a decent conversation with him.

you try to push a smile, act like things are fine but max notices when the smile doesn’t reach your eyes. he notices when you’re not okay and how his father makes you uncomfortable.

“just leave us alone, okay?” max drops his helmet on the desk in the drivers room, he’s turning to his dad, who expected it was you he was talking to.

he’s shocked, his eyes dart between you and his son, “we aren’t finished we have to talk about improvement—“

“I want nothing more than to just have a talk not about racing. y/n can give me that, you can’t.” he’s lightly pushing his father out the door until he’s able to close the space between you two and his fathers emotions.

max lets out a deep long sigh, “checo looked happy.” he smiles, arms pulling you into his body, lips gently pressing against your lips. you love your alone time with him, the way he’s so affection it’s different than his composure to the rest of the world.

“you look happy right now.” you reach for the Red Bull hat that’s covering his messy dirty blond hair, you toss it aside, fingers running up and down his cheeks, “I like it when you’re happy.”

a smile spreads across his face, “you make me happy.”

“you want to get ice cream? you deserve it for a good race.” you offer, he always said his father never rewarded him for his hard work as a kid, it’s your turn to try and give him the things he couldn’t have.

“I was thinking more about having sex, but I like ice cream too.”

—

Charles takes pole position in Baku, it’s his first time that high up on the board and you both couldn’t have been prouder for the Ferrari.

you can hear Max’s phone ringing in his bag in his drivers room, and you take it upon yourself to turn it off. you know who’s calling, max knows it as well, but he ignores the sound of the text notifications when he walks in the room and just presses a kiss to your lips and takes his hat.

“I thought you did good out there. lots of challenges.” you rub his back with your finger nails following him out of the room and into the garage, where everyone is congratulating him on, a successful, qualifying.

he turns around, hand bringing your knuckles to his lips, “ice cream afterwards?” he asks, the happy spark in his eyes that make you smile.

“ice cream afterwards.”

—

“nothing tastes better than victory, but this is good.” he licks the drops of the melting strawberry and vanilla cold cream down his cone. you chuckle watching the millions of paper napkins he’s holding disintegrate.

“I told you to get a bowl.” you laugh taking one of your clean napkins and wipe the pink colored cream off his face.

he never splurges to gain weight during the season, always trying to stay fit, but when a wins a win he knows the offer for ice cream is up on the table and he’ll never turn it down. he admits, he wishes he got this during childhood, but he’s happy he gets it with you.

“you got chocolate on your nose.” he licks his thumb before swiping it over your nose gently, he takes what’s on his thumb and tastes it, “a little bit of you and chocolate. I like it.” he hums in satisfaction.

“I heard there’s a playground a couple blocks away, we should go use the swings.” you suggest, watching the white cream slip onto his black shorts. he groans using one of his napkins and water to try to wash it away.

“now I have to go home and change, I can’t show up looking like this.”

“it’s a playground, nobody cares if you’re dirty.” you laugh finishing the bowl and set the styrofoam down on the bench beside you, he lets you take a couple of bites of his ice cream to help him finish.

“thank you.” he says, sticky hand reaching to touch your thigh. you want to grimace at the touch, but you know he never had moments like this with his own family. he never had someone to take him for a treat that he deserves, so you let him.

“for what, max?”

“making me happy.”

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thesamoanqueen · 5 months

Text

Christmas cookies

Raiting: 18+

Warnings: smut, fluff.

A/N: I wanted to try writing a one-shot for christmas since I did it last year and @mindofasagittaruis request came at the right time. Enjoy and happy holidays yall~

One boxe at a time he had managed to arrange everything, filling the huge tree base that him and Y/N had decorated together a week before. He knew she would complain, scolding him because it was too much, but Roman liked to spoil her and for that occasion he had really wanted everything.

It was their first Christmas together as a couple and he wanted it to be special. Y/N liked Christmas, was her favorite holiday, she got more excited than a little girl every time and he had promised himself and her, to do everything possible to make sure nothing was missing. They had decorated the house inside and out, planned dinners with family, started watching christmas movies, booked a weekend out fitting it between both of their schedules and Roman had tried not to plan something more to finally give voice to that impulse that was now becoming an urgency.

Admiring his work one last time, he went to the kitchen, where Y/N had decided to spend her afternoon with the most classic Christmas songs, wearing yet another hoodie stolen not too discreetly from his closet. When he crossed the door, there was no corner where she hadn't scattered a little bit of sugar, flour and sprinkles. It was a battlefield strewn with bowls, trays, and baking ingredients that smelled of vanilla, cinnamon and chocolate, the kind of chaos that warms heart and tastes like home.

- What's going on here? – he inquired with a smile and she turned to look at him, hands dirty with who knows what raised in the air, while Roman twisted his arms around her hips to swing her playfully.

- I should ask to you, what was all that chaos back there? – she asked suspiciously, giving him one of knowing looks, but he pretended not to notice, giving her a quick kiss on her cheek and peeking what she was backing.

- Don't know, Santa probably.

- I don't remember I have written a letter to him.

- So these ones are for me? – he asked, pointing the Christmas cookies placed on the marble counter.

It wasn't the kind of food she usually prepared if she decided to get into the kitchen, she was more into salty and spicy recipes, and yet there they were, lots of gingerbread men, trees and cinnamon houses waiting to be decorated.

- It's just an experiment, I wanted to make something special but then I remembered you already have me in your life so I tried with simple things… guess they're not so simple – she reflected pouting, moving a couple of those who she had already tried to decorate.

The shapes were flawless, but icings had mixed together, dripping around and ruining the designs she'd tried to make. Not the kind of result expected from her being a perfectionist and Roman found himself smiling as he watched her look them one by one with her still dirty fingers, until he reached out to take a snowman. It was supposed to be white with a carrot-nose and a scarf he knew it, but the little one didn't have a very happy expression, a bit like her, at least until he swallowed it.

-They taste good – he approved, feeling the aftertaste of spices warming his mouth and he reached out to take another one.

Amazed, Y/N watched him chew the second too, face lighting up, smile emerging again on her soft lips, as she cleaned him from a crumb ended on his beard.

- Really? I should bake them for Santa so. To thanks him for all those gifts no one asked for I guess, what do you say? – she joked, tilting her head.

-I say he can have them, if I can have the chef – he left a kiss on her lips this time, mixing the flavor of Christmas cookies with her own.

He felt her soften without a single thought into his arms, flattening herself almost completely against his chest, clinging to his neck as best she could while avoiding dirtying him with icing and chocolate.

-You taste like cookies – he heard her soft laughing, between one kiss and another, making him groan.

- Yes?

- … uh-huh

He couldn't resist those whispers, even if they were playing, to see her hopelessly happy if they were together. Stealing kiss after kiss, he pulled her onto his body, forcing her legs to wrap around his hips as he placed her on the only empty corner of the kitchen counter. With her warm laughter in his ears, he slid his hands up her soft thighs, climbing higher, until he felt the full texture of that glorious ass, as he stopped kissing her to taste then her neck. By heart, he sucked that point just beyond her collarbone that caused her to shiver, immediately feeling her cling better, squeeze with her laughter which slowly became moans, forgetting about her hands dirty to hug him.

- I hadn’t finished though – she complained, her body seeming to melt like icing from his attentions and Roman slid his hands past her sweatshirt, touching that soft good smelling skin.

- I want my dessert – he demanded seriously and felt her scratching the back of his neck with red nails, drawing a dangerous growl from him that vibrated through the whole kitchen.

Without taking his lips away from her, savoring the inside of her mouth and the soft skin above her breasts, he stripped her of those extra clothes, her hands doing the same to his pants, leaving traces everywhere and making both of them as dirty as the rest. Slowly, Roman took his time to mark her, enjoy everything of that moment, ignoring his already awake boner demanding attention, to dedicate himself to something better, hidden between those infinite legs that refused to leave him. When his long fingers found her, Roman couldn't resist the temptation, dipping a finger into the heat of her perfectly wet pussy to explore the soft, welcoming walls where he wanted to sink until he completely lost himself. Y/N in front of him tightened his grip on his neck, gasping into his arms, gaze fascinated and full of lust as she watched him bring the hand up to lick clean his fingers.

- This one is just for me – he reminded her, feeling her cling to his wrist to place a kiss on the bottom lip, tasting herself too before sliding down with the back to give him all the room he demanded.

Satisfied, Roman helped her lift her thighs, making his way between them, to finally dip himself in that perfect sweet meal, nose sliding between her folds tracing the path before his fat tongue. He took a taste, slow, just with the tip, feeling Y/N's body tremble for attentions and stopped to suck high on that adorable button that made her tremble. Breaths soon became brazen moans and more volume increased, more insistent, hungry Roman became. It was so sweet down there, a bit like that icing with which she had covered cookies but not cloying, it was a flavor that he could no longer live without and that he always tried to milk away, until it dripped down onto his beard, making his mouth salivating. First her button, then that hot entrance and soft walls, puffy, full skin of the lips he loved to kiss as much as the ones up there, running his tongue flat between her, fucking that cave without mercy. Insistently he kept her pressed against his face, choking himself, maneuvering her for more, slow but commanding until Y/N began to delight him with her adorable cries, her back arched and hands trying to grab him for support.

Something next to them fell due to her jerky movements, one of the trays and Roman saw her turn her with a blank look, ending up stretching out his arm, putting the tray and bowl of icing into their place. Y/N smiled, thanking him with a glance and he placed a kiss with devotion on her pussy, his pussy, Roman’s eyes getting darker as he saw Y/N biting her lip as eager as he was at the sight of him now dirty with icing.

- Did you find something for your dessert? – he heard her ask with lust, legs pulling him closer and he grinned.

- I like it with cream on top – he reflected thoughtfully, letting some of the icing on his hand drip between her folds.

He saw her entrance tighten around nothing at the feeling, bewitching and nasty as only Y/N could be with him, only when they were together. Her, who always tried to leave nothing to chance, who controlled every little detail, perfect, impeccable, became something else with him in those moments, stooping to try anything without complaints. She was a dangerous gift, a challenge he had never found in anyone else and that would have brought him to his knees if only she had asked, a power game in which they both had the same hand but used it with complicity.

He ran his fingers between her folds, listening to her mewl, seeing Y/N hold her breath when one of his long fingers slipped some icing inside, mixing it with her juices and the saliva he had already left.

- Ahn… feels so cold mmh – she begged with those eyes that had bewitched him, pushing him to turn his hand, sink a little more to find that welcoming spot that made her cry in absolute bliss.

-Im gonna fill you up – he announced and Y/N squirmed on the counter, between spilled icing and broken cookies, without stopping being finger fucked, because she knew it wasn't with any of those ingredients that Roman wanted to do keep his promise.

Pumping into her opening, he reached down to taste her again, this time licking away the frosting he had spilled, tongue running slowly and hungrily over every inch of her soft, sensitive caramel skin. He sucked on her swollen button, the taste of her body mixing with vanilla, the sweetness of her honey hitting Roman’s mouth along with icing. A beautiful, soggy mess echoing inside his ears, a primal call that made him hungrier and hungrier as his wide mouth tried to devour her alive, kissing and licking her clean.

He loved the choking noise that came from her throat every time his lips sucked one or both of hers down there, the pop wet flesh, nose that ran through her pussy like a credit card ready to be emptied. It was the kind of pussy that had any man tied around a finger, one he would do anything for and it led to devotion, Roman was obsessed with her and looking back he really didn't know how to managed to live without, but it wasn't just that. It was all of her, it was Y/N. She had dangerously become his world even before sharing a house or Christmas together, and it was in unexpected moments like this one that reminded him of it, waking up in the depths of his stomach, inside his head, an impulse that didn't exist even in a ring, with adrenaline running into his veins, cheered by thousands of people. The need with which he had chased her for an entire year, in hotels, arenas and offices, around the country and even beyond the borders, day and night, that grip on lungs of a drowning man.

He kissed her legs, feeling her hands pulling a few locks, knees trembling as she felt him bury himself between those folds, widening that glistening opening with fingers, inserting his tongue to clean her like a mad man until he elicited a scream. Her walls tried to close, to squeeze him, as they would have done with his hard cock and Roman found himself moving his hips aimlessly, seeking relief and refusing to abandon his meal before having reduced her to tears.

He fucked her with his fat tongue, flat and strong, pounding deep into her softness, feeding on that true addicting sweetness, widening his mouth to take in as much as possible, dirtying his beard.

- Plea-aase! R-Ro, Ro! Ah! - he felt her tremble, body struggling on the marble counter, held in his arms in that unnatural pose which Y/N did not refuse to submit to anyway, just to keep her legs on his shoulders to give him everything he wanted.

He knew she was at her limit, but he refused to slow down, craving more, that impulse in his chest that was growing until he felt like was going to explode and pushed him to be savage. He ran his fingers over her button, squeezing it between his fingers to help her and as he licked her again, his tongue flat against the hot opening, Y/N exploded with a silent cry, eyes closed, breath broken. The taste of her was intoxicating, addictive and Roman stood there, as close as possible, accompanying her as she reached her peak, cleansing with dedication. With his eyes fixed on her face, he held her back until her muscles regained some strength, trailing kisses down her flat belly, up her legs, massaging Y/N with his fingers where she still throbbed and only when her shaking hands found him, along with those beautiful eyes, he stood up again.

- I could spend all my life between your legs, babygirl – he admitted menacingly, getting rid of his track that she had already undone and with her breathing still rapid, Y/N invited him, tightening her legs around his hips at the sight of his erection slapping her already swollen center.

- Do what you want, ain't complainin'ahn!-

Sinking until he lost himself, he pulled her to the edge of the counter, fitting into her and giving a long, deep stroke, savoring her warmth and that feeling of constriction, in which she stuck him every time, without giving her time to think again. Oh, he meant to. He really meant it and the thought of her indulging him went to his head enough to push him to speed up without restraint, the slimy sound of their bodies colliding now audible even among the Christmas songs. Head down, holding her open thighs, he watched her honey stain him a little more each time he thrust in, her caramel-colored mountain swelling as his flesh went deeper.

-Mmh… you're so hard – Y/N cried in a soft moan, one hand clinging to his forearm and the other to the counter edge now sticky from the icing and her pleasure.

- I can feel you squeeze around me babe, grab that dick, thats right, let daddy enjoy his pussy, y-yes – he spoke dirty, feeling and seeing her walls sucking him in, abs tense.

- Ooh shit Ro-

More her moans became louder more his hips accelerated, in Roman mind the full intention of wreck her just for himself, drilling in that spot that made her mouth open wide, taking the breath out of her lungs, making eyes close, her belly full. There was just her begging, that gorgeous luscious body of her tense and sweaty, his breath heavy, that fire running up to his mind clouded by the vision of Y/N suffering with pleasure his assault, the hammering of his hard cock. It was an asphyxiating pleasure, a hot and inexorable vice that pulsated around Roman meat, squeezing his flesh and inviting him to go deeper, until he slammed as far as possible to reach complete collapse.

- F-fu-ah! Ah! – he felt her tremble, writhe in spasms and pinned her down, fingers digging into her hips, anchoring her to that place.

- That's it, ah, beg sweetheart, yes, gimme your mess

- pl-leeah! Please!

Groaning, hyping her and himself, Roman pulled one of her legs up higher, slapping a hand into her thigh and Y/N screamed, her head sprawling from side to side, eyes closed and back arching for that new inclination. From there, he could see her moist pearl, the whitish excitement leaking out, dripping onto the marble and down, that wonderful ring that ignited the worst thoughts in him. He felt her walls tighten with more and more insistence, nails digging into his flesh and his belly on fire, while without any warning, already tormented by his attacks, Y/N once again fell apart with a strangled moan.

And so, Roman began to fuck her without mercy, growling, giving vent to every ounce of need in his body and mind, cock sliding deeper and deeper, his hot head pounding inside that sweet cave, taking advantage of her climax and streached walls. Losing all composure, losing himself in a sensation that only Y/N could give him, Roman felt shivers run down his sweaty neck and pumped until muscles burned from the physical effort, once again exceeding the limit, hitting the kitchen counter with his knees.

- Feels so good babygirl, mmmh, so good… - he moaned, while she was still panting and throbbing under him, holding on where she could, letting him go – I'm 'bout to come, lemme fill you up, I need it, I… need… it-ah!

Everything around him seemed to go silent for long minutes, only Y/N and her whispers were still there, her soft eyes that never lost sight of him, full of what he wished was love, that tired smile that widened into a perfect "o", while Roman pressed her against him, letting the fire that had burned him slide into her canal, making his nuts dry and cock throbbing. In an animalistic growl he froze inside her, emptying himself with mind suddenly white, feeling her hands pull him down, making his head rest against her breast. Silently, he gave two final, drunken thrusts to make sure there was nothing left with Y/N trying to push his hair back and leaving heated kisses on his temples. Clinging to her, he waited in that position to catch breath, music slowly starting to make sense again.

- I guess I'll have to start from the beginning... - Y/N complained with an amused breath after a while and Roman looked up, observing the mess they had created and then her, who was distractedly tasting some of the icing that had fallen on the counter.

- Need help? – he asked seriously, very seriously and Y/N stopped with a finger still on her lips, a smile growing like something else in him, once again.

A year earlier he had done everything possible to convince her to stay during holidays. Now that she was finally here, now that they were together and with no one and nothing chasing them, he was going to make the most of every second. Santa had his North Pole and later he would have his cookies, but on the Island of Relevancy was him who dictated times.

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#roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns smut #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns x y/n #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns one shot #roman reigns oneshot #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x female reader #roman reigns x you #roman reigns fanfic #wwe fanfiction #wwe smut #roman reigns fic #wwe fic

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swallowedbymadness · 9 months

Text

♡ heavy on your tongue ♡

Pairing: hongjoong x chubby!fem!reader

Genre: the fluffiest smut for all the softies out there

Summary: You unexpectedly show up at your best friend’s apartment one rainy October night with unspoken feelings on the tip of your tongue.

Word Count: 4k

A/N: hiiiiiii! This is my first fic posted so I’m a bit nervous. Thank you to the very darling @babesindestroyland for your sweet words and encouraging me to post this. For the most immaculate vibes, listen to Mind Over Matter (Reprise) by Young the Giant. 18+ content beyond the line — No minors please. Enjoy! ✨

Warnings: Oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, and tooth rotting sweet romance 🥹

Proofread: Too many times to count bc I’m a perfectionist.

The rain pattered loudly against the window of his apartment, the lights turned off so that the small flames of the candles melting slowly onto dusty wine bottles could dance against the brick walls surrounding the two of you. It had been three years since you’d seen Hongjoong. Friends that surely longed to be more, but it was never the right time.

Now...now was the time. You had decided this once you found yourself standing outside of his apartment one rainy October night. You weren’t sure why you were there, but you didn’t dare question it. He was your best friend, so why did it feel so foreign to be there?

With a sudden rush of adrenaline moving through your nervous veins, you find yourself knocking lightly on his door, rocking back and forth on your heels. When the door slowly swings open, you’re met with his dark hair hanging in his eyes, the round metal frames adorning his face that were entirely too big and hung low atop the bridge of his nose. His eyes went wide at the sight of you in front of him. A finger pushed the glasses up as he blinked at you. His mouth fell open slightly while a shaky hand ran through his chocolate hair. He cleared his throat, unsure what to say in the moment, too afraid that this was all just another fever dream.

“Hi,” you supplied, hoping to fill the awkward silence with something, anything really.

“Hey,” the greeting slipped out automatically, not entirely sure if his brain was playing tricks on him again. Had he fallen asleep into another dream of you? He hadn’t stopped seeing your face everywhere he went since you left. Ever since you left that summer afternoon all those years ago, taking his heart with you. He swears he still sees visions of you walking down the crowded streets of the city, or sitting at your favorite table inside of the cafe you used to frequent together after class. You didn’t know it, but you kept the beating organ safe in your hands while he patiently waited for you to bring it back home to him. He never actually wanted it back, rather he wanted to see that you still held onto it as tenderly as you once had.

With a lump in his throat, he tried to swallow it and pleaded with his brain to form a tangible thought for a decent reply other than the one word he’s offered to you already. To his dismay, nothing came out. Instead, the words played at the back of his throat teasingly.

“I’m sorry this is so unexpected of me, I don’t even know what I was thinking. You’re probably busy and it’s the middle of the night...I’ll just go.”

“No-no, please. Stay.” His voice was laced with something needy as his hand reached out to grip your wrist. If he was dreaming, he didn’t want to wake up just yet. He needed more time with you. It was never enough time. “I mean...come in. Please. You must be freezing, and I just ordered pizza.” A hopeful grin appeared on his face, his eyes pleaded with you to just come inside and provide him with your company for even a moment.

You nodded, matching his small smile as a blush dusted across your cheeks and a familiar warmth began to spread throughout your chest. He never once let go of your wrist, his grip lightly tightening ever so often to ensure that you were truly real.

He shut the door and led you over to the living room where he then threw two black velvet cushions from the couch onto the floor in front of the coffee table.

“Please, have a seat,” he let go reluctantly and made his way to his tiny kitchen where the box of pizza sat untouched next to an unopened bottle of red wine. He plucked two glasses from the shelf just above his eye level and eagerly made his way back to your side, heart now making its way down into his stomach as he stopped in the doorway. He allowed himself a moment to stare at the back of your head, the way your skin reflected the soft candlelight so beautifully. He made his way back into the living room after deciding staring at you would only set his insides on fire the longer he gazed. He set the box down, clumsily opening the bottle and pouring the crimson liquid into both glasses, hoping you wouldn’t see the way his hand ever so lightly trembled in your presence.

“Thank you,” you said shyly. You allowed your eyes to follow his every movement until he sat beside you. You noted how he had ordered your usual, your chest beginning to light up with fireflies with the thought that he remembered your favorite after all this time. He took a slice and bit into it, closing his eyes and humming as he chewed, his head nodding in approval. Your heart fluttered with adoration when you saw the grease begin to stick to the corners of his mouth the more he ate. The two of you sat there in comfortable silence like you hadn’t been separated for years. That was the thing about Joong. It was just so easy.

As the candles melted and the air surrounding you two was filled with laughter as you exchanged stories to bring each other up to speed on your lives, you couldn’t help but spot a familiar glint in his eyes, the sparkle never fading, even after all these years. It was comforting to know that even after being apart for so long, his feelings were a constant.

He sipped the remainder of his wine before hopping up and waltzing over to his beloved record player that he spent an obscene amount of money on for the aesthetics, as he once told you that one winter afternoon at the little thrift shop just a few blocks from your favorite coffee shop. He put a record on and slowly allowed the needle to drop, the fuzzy static at the beginning of the vinyl filling the room. Once the smooth piano came sounding out of the record player, he came back over, offering his hand out in front of you. He sported a lazy smile, a light haze surrounding your figure as his eyes focused on you. He swore you stole his breath away from him in that moment, the shadows dancing against your soft features.

You let your hand slip into his and he pulled you to your feet, pulling you close to his chest as he began to sway you both to the beat of the music. You recalled the times he would dance like this with you. On nights when you both couldn’t sleep, or when you woke from a nightmare and needed someone to hold at two in the morning but your empty apartment would soon be filled with his comforting presence in a heartbeat. That’s the thing about Hongjoong. He was always there, and if he wasn’t, he would be there. No matter what. You sighed into his collarbone as you felt the heavy thump of his heart from underneath his rib cage.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Anything,” you find yourself whispering against the mole on his neck, unaware of the shiver that is suddenly sent down his spine.

“I’ve been waiting for you to come back to me,” he purred into your ear. “For you to be in my arms like this again,” His hands caressed your sides, the delicate brush of his fingertips sending shivers all over your body as he pulled you closer to him. Your head was rested in the crook of his neck now, arms tangled together between both of your chests as he clutched your hands in his. You two swayed slowly to the vinyl playing in the background, the air between you two thick with an unspoken desire. You inhaled deeply, reminding your senses of his cologne that used to stain the fibers of your sheets years ago. “I’ve missed you,” his voice came out as a strained whisper, the emotion dripping from his tongue like honey.

“I’ve missed you too, Joong. I’m sorry it took so long.” He hummed in response, lifting your chin so your eyes could meet as he pressed your foreheads together.

“Never apologize for bettering yourself.” You looked up at him through your lashes, his features soft with the warm glow of the flames surrounding you. “I’m just glad you didn’t forget about me.”

“Oh Hongjoong,” you placed your palm on his cheek, your thumb rubbing softly at the porcelain skin. “I could never forget you.” His eyes visibly softened as your melodic confession poured from your lips. He needed to taste your words on his tongue, he needed to so he knew they were real. Daringly, he dipped down and pressed his plush lips to yours, his tongue smoothing across your bottom lip, tasting the sweet words you kept hidden there. Always on the tip of your tongue, but could never get them out.

But not tonight.

He began walking you backwards until your back softly pressed against the wall. His hands roamed your curves while his mouth explored every inch of your own. You couldn’t help the small breathy moan that escaped into his desperate mouth, making him press up against you harder until you could feel the outline of his arousal against your thigh.

“Please,” is all he let slip in between wet kisses and rushed breaths. All you could do was nod, knowing exactly what he asked for. Your hands cupped his face, your lips smashing into his in hopes that you could merge into him like your heart ached to do. You wanted to reside within him, crawl into his rib cage and form a home around his sacred bones where it felt safe. He was home, and you never wanted to leave the shelter that was him.

“Joong, please, I-” your breath hitched as his lips ghosted against yours, his hands aching to touch every inch of you as they hovered over your skin, the tension becoming too much to bear.

“I know...Me too.” His breath flooded your space, and your stomach flipped with anticipation. You closed your eyes, not sure if you could look at him any longer without losing yourself completely to his delicate touch.

Soon you felt his cool fingers unbuttoning the front of your blouse, his fingers tracing delicately over the soft skin of your chest, enjoying the way you shivered underneath his loving touch. He pushed the delicate fabric away, revealing your bare trembling figure. He relished in the way every curve hugged the shadows around you, the way he could see your nipples begin to harden underneath the lace of your bralette as the fabric of your shirt lightly grazed your breasts before falling daintily over your shoulders. His calloused hands tossed it to the floor and grazed your skin, taking his time to remember how you felt under his fingertips. Your warmth felt like the heat of a thousand suns, burning him to the touch, but gods, he couldn’t get enough of it.

You giggled and took the frames from his face and put them down on the coffee table when you noticed a slight fog begin to form on the lenses.

“You won’t be needing these,” your eyes fell back on his panting chest, watching as his trembling fingers fumbled with the small buttons. He was so eager and you felt your heart swell. You reached your calm hands out and grabbed his, feeling the buzz of anticipation through his fingertips. His wide eyes landed on yours, lost in the moment completely. Your grounding presence refocused his hazy vision, a silent affirmation sent to him from your gentle touch calmed him down immensely. “It’s okay Joong. We don’t need to rush this.”

“I-I’m sorry, I’ve just…”

“Shh,” your slender finger made its way to his lips, a small coo to silence his anxious rambling. “None of that now. Just come here,” you grab him by the belt loops of his jeans and pull him closer to you, eyes hooded and hoping they were saying more than what your words ever could. “Just love me.”

Both of his hands wrapped around the base of your face, fingers tangling themselves in your hair as he reconnected your desperate lips, this time there was no trace of nerves present between the two of you. He needed you to know he heard you loud and clear, and would not stop until you felt as loved as humanly possible. The craving to be inside you, connected to you, as close as he could physically be to you set his skin on fire, an ache he needed to soothe. You were quick to assist with removing his shirt as he had yours, and you reached back to unclasp the thin lace from your figure, letting it drop between the two of you. You brought his hands from your face down to your breasts, encouraging him to play with the sensitive buds that awaited his eager touch. There was no hesitation on his part as he took your hardening bud in between his finger and thumb, massaging it roughly. You could feel the heat begin to fill your abdomen, the waves of pleasure flowing through you instantly. You moaned into his mouth while your shaking awaiting fingers impatiently undid the button and zipper on his jeans to allow your hand access to what you needed.

Hongjoong guided you over to the couch, leaving his jeans behind and sitting down in front of you. You stepped out of the remainder of your clothes to be left in nothing but dainty lace, much to his enjoyment. His hands clutched your hips as you stood in front of him, his lips leaving sloppy wet kisses on your stomach, your hips, your thighs, any skin he would get his hands on. You tilted your head back with your eyes closed as you felt his tongue drag against your sensitive skin, his lips lazily nipping at your most ticklish spots. Your fingers found their way into his hair, scratching his scalp and gripping his silky chocolate strands.

“Joong,” you sighed his name when you felt his finger tease at the elastic of your panties, his tongue snaking across your hip bone after lightly sinking his teeth into the delicate skin and sucking possessively. A wave of arousal spiked through his veins at the sound of his name falling from your swollen lips.

Once getting the lacy garment off of your skin, Hongjoong’s fingers grazed the outline of your core, your cheeks flushing at the realization of how damp you already were for him. He got down on his knees, hooking one if your legs over his shoulder and looked up at you from beneath his thick lashes.

“I’ve waited so long to have the taste of you on my tongue, baby. Will you let me?”

“Please,” You lightly panted as the pit of your stomach tightened with anticipation, his hot breath ghosting over your clit and sending your mind into a haze. With small kitten licks, he tried pacing himself as he got his first taste of you, but once your juices met his tongue, he felt an insatiable hunger take hold of him. “Devour me,” you found yourself saying under your breath. His gut twisted in the most sensational way, his cock twitching at the breathy moan. He did not hold back any longer, his tongue gliding all over and in between your folds, eliciting a surprised moan from you. His warm tongue was suddenly inserted into your awaiting pussy, eliciting more beautiful noises from your chest. Your fingers tightened in his hair as he worked his magic, humming against you when you began subconsciously moving your hips in time with him. When he felt you begin to clench around his tongue he immediately pulled away, your sweet juices shining on his chin as he flashed a devilish smile your way.

“Not yet, pretty baby.” He cooed, standing up and bringing his hand to caress your cheek. You leaned into his touch, not realizing that you were now craving it even more than you initially thought. “I want to look into your eyes when you come undone for me.” He let his hand lazily drop down to yours and pulled you close to him, guiding your hand down to his throbbing member. “Look what you do to me,” he wrapped your hand around his shaft, squeezing your hand that had wrapped around him without any thought. A raspy groan escaped his lungs when you began to slowly pump his member, the veins prominent and pre-cum leaking from the swollen rosy tip. He backed up, the back of his legs hitting the couch and he gripped your hips as he sat down on the couch with his legs spread. He guided you to hover over him, your chest nearly pressed against his as you slowly sank down onto his eager cock.

The pressure of your tight walls engulfing him, the stretch making both of you gasp at the pleasurable fit. You sat like that for a moment, allowing yourselves to take in every sensation and emotion you felt. You felt small tears threaten your eyes as your heart melted inside of your rib cage.

You felt the overwhelming amount of love for him begin to surface. There was just so much.

So so much.

“Hey,” he whispered, his blown out eyes soft and focused on yours. He cupped your cheeks, his thumbs rubbing small circles into the sticky flesh. “I’m right here,” his attempt at bringing you back to him was small but it was successful. His grounding touch helped the haze clear your mind as you were brought back to the moment, not realizing you had gotten lost in the emotion of the sacred act that was currently taking place. You closed your eyes and took in the sound of the dull scratch of the vinyl that had finished long ago in the background. The quiet beat of his heart pounding wildly in time with yours as you opened your eyes, all you saw was him.

Your breath hitched at the slow, deep and intentional pumps he made into you, each one making his tip push deliciously against your wildly sensitive spot. You felt yourself move your hips in a circular motion on top of him, your trembling hands making their way to his shoulders to steady yourself while you moved. You relished in the way your clit rubbed against his pelvis to stimulate the swollen bud between your legs. The pace picked up out of desperation for a shared release, but you both had a longing for the moment to last, so you pushed the warm feeling that bubbled in your abdomen down as much as you could. His hands splayed across your back, gripping your love handles that he adored dearly and dragged his nails down the delicate skin gently, most definitely leaving a raised and agitated trail.

“This,” his breath was lost at the sight of you coming completely unraveled in his embrace, your eyes never leaving his as you became as close as humanly possible. “Oh my gods, it’s all for you,” he moaned and his head lolled forward, your sticky foreheads now touching as he began to thrust lovingly into you. “Only you.” He repeated, like a prayer spilling from the lips of the most devoted disciple as an offering at the altar. You were a goddess, an absolutely divine being in his eyes. Birthed from the womb of Aphrodite herself. He was most certain with the way you glistened in the candle light above him, mouth slightly agape as your hips rolled and your curves moved in the sexiest way. If this was heaven, he did not wish to return to earth. He would pray to any god to live in this moment forever. A slow and sensual pace was what he desired. He wanted to savor every minute, remember every feeling you gave him while his member was deep inside your walls.

“Oh baby, fuck. I’m-I’m gonna-” you whined, feeling the peak of your orgasm rush to your core ready to explode. He took your face in his hands and crashed your lips together sloppily as he thrusted into you harder, riding out his own high through the stars he was seeing behind his eyes. You felt his warm seed spill into you, still bouncing lazily on top of him until your bodies came back down to earth. You collapsed your sweaty body to his, his fingers grazing your back lovingly while he enjoyed the weight of you on top of him. You both were panting, a small exhausted laugh coming from him as you lay there in comfortable silence.

“What?” You tried lifting your head, but ended up with your head in the crook of his neck, your nose nuzzling into the damp skin.

“Nothing. I just…” he paused, running his fingers through your hair, his lips pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head. “I can’t believe we just did that” Another breathy laugh rumbled under his chest.

“I know,” you admit, your lids heavy as he played with your hair. “I didn’t realize I needed that.”

“I’ve always needed that.” He let the confession drip from his lips honestly, nothing holding him back any longer. “I’ve always needed you. And I don’t think I could ever want anyone else after that.” You felt your lips tug into a proud smile, your heart melting like ice cream in the middle of June. “I love you.” His words hung in the air surrounding you two, a response not required but hoped for. You sat up in his lap, his flaccid member resting in the confines of your walls still. You weren’t quite ready for the empty feeling once he pulled himself out of you, the fullness of him making you feel whole. Your hands rested on his flushed cheeks and you leaned down to press your lips to his forehead, then each of his closed eyelids. The tip of his nose next, and finally on his lips ever so slightly. You stayed there, hovering over his mouth, the words heavy on your tongue and ready for release. After all this time, you found yourself not afraid to let go of everything you kept inside for so long.

“I love you too, Joong.” You whispered against his swollen lips, kissing each corner of his mouth and leaning back to gaze at his stunning disheveled state. With eyes blown out completely, a few tears streamed down his cheeks at the late night confession you offered him. “I’ve loved you for seven summers now. Each one I found myself loving you more and more. The longer I was away from you, the more that love grew.” Your fingers brushed the strands of hair back that were stuck to his forehead, your own eyes watering as you allowed the affection to pour out of you. “Hongjoong, I’ve loved you for seven summers, and I will love you for many more.”

You felt your walls begin to clench around nothing as he pulled out of you, leaving you empty and longing for the intimate feeling he took away from you. He spread himself out across the couch and pulled you down onto his chest as he played with your fingers. Your eyes closed, exhaustion settling in quick as his fingers continued to graze across your back lovingly. As you drifted off, you almost missed his last confession of the night before he too lost consciousness.

“I have never loved anyone the way that I love you, and I don’t think I ever could.”

#ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez x chubby reader #ateez x reader #plus size reader #chubby reader #hongjoong x y/n #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x you #hongjoong smut #khj

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the-dendrophile-bookdragon · 1 month

Text

From mistakes, we grow

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Warning. angst, mention of pregnancy, divorce AU, modern AU, fluff

Summary: Two hearts, separated by a mistake made in haste. Aemond was never so determined to mend wounds as he wanted to mend the bleeding one of his marriage.

You sat in a neatly decorated conference room. The walls are white, and a glass front looks over downtown King's Landing behind you. The room was bright and oddly warm for a conference room of a law firm. Probably feng shui.

A large glass table separated you from your future ex-husband. Aemond, ever the notorious perfectionist, sat in a black three-piece suit and black tie. You wouldn’t have picked that combination out for him. You would have given him a little speck of colour like his favourite sapphire blue tie. But he wasn’t at home anymore. He had moved into a penthouse where his grandfather’s real estate company belonged. The blue tie hanging in your closet, alone and forgotten.

His hair was falling like a waterfall over his shoulders. Neatly tied back in the middle on the back of his neck. Not your preferred hairstyle, you liked his man-bun more. His bangs framed his chiselled face. A look that made your panties drop in an instant.

You closed your eyes momentarily, banning those thoughts out of your head. You sat in this room, in front of him, to finalise the divorce and tie the loose ends. Fumbling with the handle of your bag, you calmed yourself down a bit. The blue bag he had bought you with his first hard-earned money he received after his first case. He was so proud when he bought it for you. You had beamed that day too, as he told you he had won.

He never lost a case in his entire career. Your stomach churns at the reminder.

Your lawyer and his discussing the terms of the shared custody. Your daughter was only four. Still in kindergarten. None the wiser why daddy wasn’t home.

Your eyes focused on the skin of your thumb as you began to scratch it. Aemond wanted to reach out and stop you from tearing your soft skin. A bad habit you developed during your college years. His heart ached as he saw the blood oozing out of the small wound.

Your eyes widened as your lawyer argued with you giving up your career as a lawyer during your final years of law school because you had fallen pregnant. Your breathing became heavy, your hands clammy. The familiar weight on your chest weight heavy. „I need a break.“ You choked out softly. All eyes are on you.

You pushed your chair away and got up, rushing out of the conference room. You were all too familiar with this office. Aemond had been working here as a paralegal during law school, supporting your growing family. He had worked here since he passed the bar test and became a lawyer. Even got promoted to junior partner just six months ago.

Your heart hammered in your chest. Six months ago all this began. When he came home that night, kissing your cheek and telling you he was now junior partner.

He had promised to be home that night for Maeya’s first tooth she would put under her pillow. He wasn’t there like all the other times he promised to be there but wasn’t. Your daughter fell asleep with the tooth in her hand cradled to her chest. She told you over and over again that her daddy would come. And he would watch her but it underneath. It sounded like Maeya was convincing herself at that point.

But it wasn’t your disappointment of him not being there or that he forgot about it. It was the hidden disappointment in your daughter’s eyes that brought you to your breaking point. You couldn’t take it anymore.

You walked on, hearing his quick steps following you. He called your name several times. Trying to gain your attention. Reaching you right before you turned the corner.

“You told your lawyer~” You held up your hand. Aemond immediately stopped. “I need air.” Your voice was breathless and small, kicking his overprotectiveness into overdrive. His eyes widened as he heard your whimpering voice. The panic in your eyes. He nodded curtly before leading you to the office balcony.

You began to shiver, a sign your adrenaline was wearing off. He took off his jacket, laying it over your shoulder. You looked at him with a soft smile. A smile he missed so much in the last months. He felt alive again standing in front of you.

“I told my lawyer I gave up law school to take care of Maya. I never said I regretted it. Because I don’t. But apparently, she thinks I do.” You walked over to the railing, watching the busy streets below. “You know I hated law school. But my parents made me do it. You gave me an out. A bit unconventional but I never regretted it. And you know how much I love my flower shop.”

Aemond smiled softly as he listened to you. Your parents had pressured you into law school. Wanting you to fulfil their fucked-up legacy of a lawyer dynasty.

He remembered the day you told him you were pregnant. It was during a stressful exam month. Your period was late. You put it off due to stress, it had happened before. He took your word. Believing you, it was your body, even if he had your period marked in his calendar.

You had screamed through the apartment. Jumped around in glee as he stood in the doorway of the tiny bathroom. How you had sung so happily that you were with his child. His anxiety disappeared as you fell around his neck and kissed him passionately.

He had never seen you so relieved as the day you dropped out of law school. Not even after giving birth.

“I know.” He mumbled softly. Standing next to you. Close but not touching you.

“I can’t do this.” You whimpered again. The corners of your eyes fill with tears.

Aemond looked down at you. His eyes trailing your shivering body. The need to hold you close grew the longer he stared at you. “Can’t do what?” There it was, the moment of truth you had been waiting for. “I don’t want to get a divorce. It was stupid. I don’t know what ran through my mind. This mess is all my fault.”

As he saw this beautiful woman ramble on about how she had caused all this he couldn’t take it. You had sacrificed so much for him and his career. You, who would have become a great lawyer if you wanted to? Even better than him.

Instead, you worked in a rundown flower shop next to campus until you could afford your own. Not wanting to take his money or the money from his trust fund you both swore only to touch for your daughter.

His heart broke into millions of pieces as you blamed yourself for the divorce. “Stop, darling.” The term of endearment fell from his lips so effortlessly. He held your shoulders, softly squeezing them as he heard your hateful words.

“It was my fault. I am a workaholic who forgot a lot of milestones in our daughter’s life. I am the one who took you for granted. A mistake I made time and time again. Regretting it every day but still I continued.” He took a deep breath. His body shaking in anger at himself. “My darling, you are incredible and flawless. Don’t you ever blame it on yourself when you should blame me? My love, my heart, my world don’t you dare go to that dark place when your anger should be on me.”

You looked up at him. Your tears falling down your cheeks. “I can never hate you.” Your voice cracked as you sobbed. Aemond finally pulled you into his chest, not caring for any makeup stains from your tears leaving stains on his shirt. He needed you to know you are loved. Wrapped up in warmth.

“I can’t do this without you.” You sobbed again. Your face pressed into his chest. “I don’t want to do it alone.”

Aemond tightened his arms around you. “You won’t. I will cut down on my office hours. I can work from home now. A small perk of being junior partner now.” He kissed the top of your head. “Not that I will be working so much when I am home. I’ll take care of the household while you are gone. By the way, you need to teach me how to cook. I have been eating takeout and convenience food for the last six months.” His voice was sheepish like a boy telling his parent he did something wrong.

Your small giggle warmed his heart. He kissed the top of your head once more. “I can help you with that. I will be at home a lot too.” You looked up at him with a teary smile. You never looked more beautiful to him than in this moment.

A pale silver-blonde brow was raised as your words rang in his head. “Why? Is everything okay with the shop? Did I do something wrong? Did you lose it?” He spiralled down a hole. His mind was racing if he had done the right calculations for you. If he had missed something.

You had never been good with numbers. Always give him your finance books and bills to go over it until the late hours. He never minded. Knowing he was helping you pursue your dream like you did with his.

“No, the shop is fine.” You mumbled sheepishly. “I will take a break to raise our kids.” His mind stopped reeling and he looked down at her. Only now he felt it. The telltale of a small bump hidden under a thick wool sweater.

“That day…” You swallowed thickly at mentioning that fateful day. “So many things clashed. Mae was so overexcited about her tooth. An order had not been delivered on time. There was a bridezilla trying to rip me off. I was nauseous the whole day and I found out I was pregnant. And you were not there when I needed you. I was not in the right mind when I demanded the divorce.”

Aemond’s heart broke once more. He had come home late, slightly drunk and had nearly gone straight to bed if Sara hadn’t stopped him and told him her piece of mind that night.

You pressed yourself tighter to his chest. “I called you so many times before I hung up again in the last months. I was so scared I hurt you so much that you hated me.” He remembered those calls. Always picking up and waiting for you to talk only to hear the click of the phone as the call ended.

“I am sorry I was not the best at the moment. I know I buried myself in my work and rarely left it at the front door. I let you down even if I swore I wouldn’t. My darling, I never wanted to be my father but I had become him. Taking you and Mae for granted even though you are the ones that spur me on.”

He leaned down, kissing you deeply with all the love he held for you. “Love, I will move mountains if I can’t be there for you at the moment. I would never abandon you, Maeya or this little one ever again.” He leaned his forehead against yours. “And if I do, I will personally ask Baela to frame me for anything and put me in jail.” A small chuckle escaped you at Aemond’s words. His cousin, a pretty damn good detective in the King’s Landing police force, would do it in a heartbeat. You were her best friend and the godmother to Maeya.

“Let’s go back inside, burn the papers, pick up our little girl from kindergarten and get lunch at the Dornish restaurant we all love so much.” He whispered, kissing your forehead once more. You closed your eyes. Relief washed over your body as Aemond guided you out of his workplace. Holding on to him and never letting go again.

Main Masterlist

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 11 days

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A Duet of Fire and Fate

Part One | Series Masterlist

Summary: his music school having been challenged by Riverrun Conservatory, Aemond is given the opportunity to come face to face with their top musician | Word Count: 4.7k~ | Warnings: smut (not with the main female character), toxic relationship, semi-public sex

Nothing quite compared to the low hum, and delicate whine of a cello. It had been that way for some time, ever since he'd discovered it.

Aemond still remembers the look on his mother's face, her chocolate eyes wide with pride and joy, when her son who was still freshly mutilated, resulting in the loss of sight in his left eye, took an interest in playing classical music.

The cello had become more than just an instrument to Aemond; it was his refuge, his voice in a world that had grown suddenly more silent and unforgiving. The accident had not just taken half his sight but had cast a shadow over his once bright future. Music, however, brought light back into his life, offering a path forward that he had never anticipated.

The Targaryen name, synonymous with power and prestige in other realms, here lent an aura of intrigue and expectation to his performances. Yet, it was Aemond's own skill, the raw emotion he channelled through the strings of his cello, that captivated audiences. His music was a blend of classical elegance and a palpable intensity that seemed to stem from the very depths of his being.

And Aemond was nothing if not a perfectionist at heart.

He perfected everything, to the point of madness some felt. And if he had not invited a feeling of deep, primal intrigue from every performance he gave, then what was the point? This innocent hobby at first, honed by his parents and caregivers alike, was now a way of life. A career. Something to strive for.

As he became older, this competitive nature never wavered once. He embraced it like a challenge to be met. And the conductor of this prestigious school, Otto Hightower, both a friend of his father, Viserys, a business giant well-known across all of Westeros, and conveniently his grandfather, expected nothing short of the best from his prodigious grandson.

He was never self-conscious either, even if he was easily noticeable and stared upon everywhere he went. And one might expect little attention from the opposite sex in a world of classical music and elegant instruments, but for Aemond this could not have been less true.

He attracted in every show, not only with his talent but with his haunting appearance. The straight long scar through his left eye was struck in the middle by a pale blue pupil, his other seeing eye stark in comparison. Women would watch his slender fingers strike fear, passion and energy into their hearts, wishing the very same could grip at their skin.

To their frustrations, he never acted on this popularity.

Alys Rivers was the only woman he ever reciprocated affections of some kind for. At least two decades his senior, his family had been less than impressed at her presence in his life. But there was no choice on their part. Aemond had made his, and Alys Rivers, like it or not, was his muse. A classical music lover at heart. And a professional critic no less.

One might be forgiven for thinking they disliked each other, they rarely exhibited romance. She was more akin to his manager than anyone else, critiquing his manner of playing and giving advice where he didn't want it. And he rewarded her, away from the prying eyes of the public, with quick, angry sex, exerting what control he did have, into intimacy.

She, like him, had a haunting presence to her, but one less mysterious. More overtly seductive. And though sometimes it seemed to irk Aemond, some felt as if they were still acquainted by convenience if nothing else.

Aemond always arrived early to Kings Landing Music College. The stuffy, wood-panelled room gave some semblance of comfort. There was something about the acoustics, the closeness, that felt almost womb-like. Safe. Familiar.

Meticulously, tuning his cello, he half-listened to the skinny, pink-faced Blackwood, practicing at the same time, “sound like a fucking dying pig.”

“Half dying,” Aemond murmured, with a roll of his eyes.

Otto waltzed in, clad in black slacks and a loose forest-green jumper, “Blackwood, get your fucking instrument in tune please. Fucking Cole could do a better job in violas.”

Criston twirled two Timpani sticks between his fingers, giving a look of mock offence from across the room, “just because I'm over here doesn't mean I can't hear you-”

“Alright, alright, before we begin today’s practice, I have an announcement,” Otto declared, his voice commanding attention. The room quickly fell silent, the anticipation palpable in the air.

“We’ve been challenged to a competition by the Riverrun Conservatory,” Otto revealed, his eyes sweeping across the room, measuring the reaction to his words. The announcement ignited a buzz among the musicians, the rivalry between the schools notorious for its intensity.

“This isn’t just any friendly showcase. It’s a direct confrontation on neutral ground at the upcoming city arts festival. We will be judged on technique, emotional expression, and the complexity of our performance.”

Aemond’s pulse quickened. Riverrun Conservatory had a formidable reputation, known for their strict discipline and innovative performances. The thought of competing against them stirred a mix of excitement and nerve.

Otto’s gaze swept over the room, lingering for a moment on Aemond, then moving on. “I want crispness, I want emotion, and above all, I want precision. We will begin selecting the repertoire tomorrow. Today, I want everyone to focus on their sections. I expect perfection and I will accept nothing less than your best.”

With a decisive turn, Otto left the rehearsal space, his footsteps echoing his determination. The room erupted into whispers and hurried discussions; the stakes had been set.

Blackwood sighed, stress gnawing and weighing on his face. “Fuck me, no pressure then.”

“Don't fucking shit yourself. It's only Riverrun,” a lanky guy mumbled behind his flute.

“Shut your fucking mouth!”

Aemond tuned his cello once more, a determined glint in his eye. He was eager to prove himself, not just as a formidable cellist, but as a key player in leading his school to victory. As the rehearsal began, the sounds of strings, woodwinds, and brass filled the room, each musician pouring their heart into the notes.

Aemond knew that every session, every note, would count. The festival was not just another performance; it was a proving ground. And he was ready to claim his place on it.

With his cello perched on his back as if it were an extension of himself, Aemond strode toward Otto’s office. The familiar weight of the instrument reassured him, steadying his nerves as he prepared to discuss the imminent arrival of their rivals from Riverrun Conservatory.

Upon reaching the heavy oak door, Aemond knocked with a confident rhythm and was quickly greeted by Otto, who peered out from behind a mountain of musical scores. His deep-set eyes and beard, more salt than pepper, gave him an air of aged wisdom.

"Aemond, what's the matter?" Otto asked, noticing the urgency in Aemond's posture.

Stepping inside, Aemond carefully leaned his cello against the wall. "I've heard that Riverrun will be arriving tomorrow to practise here, in preparation for the festival. They’ll be using some of our facilities. I wanted to discuss how we can use this to our advantage, especially since their star pianist is said to be among them."

Otto raised an eyebrow, a slight grin playing at the corners of his mouth. Perhaps he saw the cunning nature reflected in his grandson he perceived in himself.

"Indeed, they will be here. It’s a rare opportunity to observe them up close, to learn their strengths and possibly their weaknesses. We’ve managed to arrange different practice times to ensure there’s no direct overlap, but our paths will certainly cross."

Aemond nodded, his mind racing with possibilities. "If we could subtly observe their practice sessions, we might glean insights into their preparation and techniques. It could inform our strategy and help us focus our rehearsals where we need the most work."

Otto walked over to his desk and shuffled some papers, revealing a schedule. "Here are the timings. Riverrun’s sessions are slotted just after ours in the adjacent rooms. It’s crucial we keep our interactions professional, but keep your eyes and ears open. Understand how their pianist integrates with their ensemble— it’s not just about her solo performance."

"Should we consider adjusting our pieces or rehearsal focus based on what we learn?" Aemond asked, his voice low.

"Potentially," Otto responded, tapping his fingers on the desk. "But let’s not be hasty. First, observe. See if there’s a particular piece they struggle with or excel in. We’ll adjust our strategy based on solid evidence, not assumptions."

Aemond felt a surge of tactical excitement. "I’ll make sure our section leaders are discreet but observant. We can use this chance to refine our performance to outshine theirs."

"Exactly," Otto agreed, handing Aemond a copy of the schedule. "Use this opportunity wisely. We need every edge we can get against Riverrun. Remember, they are guests in our school, so maintain the highest standards of respect and professionalism at all times."

With a firm nod, Aemond picked up his cello, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. As he left Otto’s office, he knew the next few days could define the outcome of the festival. The challenge was daunting, but Aemond was ready to lead his school not just to compete, but to win.

Aemond was barely through the front door of his apartment before Alys was barraging him with questions. Her fine lips were lacquered with red, fingernails painted a charcoal black as she poured herself a coffee.

“I heard about the competition. Riverrun is notorious. Sure you can handle it?” She smirked behind the rim of her cup.

He sighed, setting down his cello, “yes, I can fucking handle it.” That was his only response before sinking into the sofa, laying his head flat back against the sofa, eyes shut, as if he wanted her to disappear.

He was somewhat ashamed to admit the way he tensed and then relaxed at the way her fingers expertly kneaded his shoulders, massaging the stress from him. But even more so as they trailed down, sharp nails ghosting over his neck had his lips parting and his trousers growing tight.

“Now, now. You know I only want you to do better,” she cooed, “and you will get better, with the right critique.”

He could hear her smile, her tone light and sensual as she trailed off.

Aemond turned his head and looked up at her where she was looming over him, her thumbs still pushing circles on his sore muscles.

“Critique?”

Alys’s lips curved up in a knowing smile, her gaze fixed on him with an intensity that seemed to pierce through his weariness. Her green, emerald like eyes, were like daggers, hooking and reeling him in somewhere dark.

"Of course, critique," she murmured, her voice a melodious blend of challenge and tease. "Every artist needs it, even the great Aemond Targaryen. Especially with Riverrun breathing down our necks."

She moved around the sofa with the grace of a cat, setting her coffee down on the table before moving her legs either side of him, brushing her clothed core beneath her skirt against his growing hardness. "I watch, I listen, and I provide feedback that no one else dares to give you."

Aemond sighed, shifting to look at her more directly. The red of her lips was stark against the softer hue of her face, a deliberate pop of colour that matched the sharpness in her words. "And how exactly does your 'feedback' help me tonight?" he asked, his tone a mix of scepticism and intrigue.

"It helps because it makes you think. It makes you feel. Isn't that what music is about?" Alys replied, her hands now moving down from his shoulders, her fingers tracing lines across his chest through his shirt. "Besides, seeing you tense up like that, only to melt under my touch—it tells me where you're holding back. Not just here," she said, pressing briefly into a particularly tight spot. Then, her touch sank to his belt, then drifting lower and stroking his growing erection, teasing his length slowly.

"But here too."

Her approach was intoxicating, a dangerous mix of personal care and professional critique. "You're brilliant, Aemond, but even brilliance can be polished," she continued, leaning in to whisper against his ear. "Let me polish you, make you shine brighter. Let me push you to be the best, and then push a little harder."

Aemond felt the dual edges of her influence—the softness of her caress, the hard truth in her critique. It was a manipulation he allowed, perhaps even welcomed. Her presence was woven into his life, a thread that was both comforting and controlling. Sometimes too tight.

With two needy hands on her buttocks, he rolled up her skirt around her hips, dipping between her welcoming thighs, his ego somewhat inflated to find she was wet already. Alys did little else in reaction than assisting to undo his belt, taking his hard length in her hand and seductively massaging from base to tip.

He pulled her forcefully against him, fingers dug into her pale skin as she hovered over him and sank slowly, splitting herself open on his cock with a practised moan. Her hips moved instinctually, stretching to accommodate his thickness over and over.

Between grunts and curses, Aemond was rarely vocal. Sex was a way to dispel frustration and invite inspiration in his clear head afterwards. Alys could be anyone. But he had to admit, he found her interesting, if not for her advice.

Her manicured and rounded nails dug into his neck as Alys moved on him with vigour, one hand stealing between them to circle her bud to try and hurtle herself towards completion.

It had occurred to Aemond that she was similarly using him in the same way.

With a bruising grip around her waist, Aemond jutted up into her shakily, coming hard within Alys’ quivering walls in the aftermath of her orgasm. And once she gained her breath, she peeled his hands off her as if he were suffocating. His member slid out of her, softened and slick with her moisture.

Alys straightened, stepping back to observe him, her eyes assessing as she wiggled her skirt back down. "Tomorrow, I'll come to the rehearsal. I want to see how you handle yourself with Riverrun watching. I'll be watching too, taking notes." Her tone was playful yet serious, a reminder of her dual role in his life.

As she retreated to the kitchen, Aemond lay there, a part of him resenting the ease with which she shifted roles from lover to critic, yet another part eager to prove himself worthy of her praise, his heart going fast still in the aftermath of their hastened sex.

He knew that Alys's critiques, though wrapped in seduction, were aimed at forging him into a sharper, more formidable musician. In the complex symphony of their relationship, her motives played out in chords, each note crafted to challenge and change him.

The next day dawned crisp and clear, the early morning sun casting long shadows over the grounds of the music school. The building was abuzz with the nervous energy of anticipation, the air vibrating with the undertones of an impending musical clash.

As he made his way through the corridors to the rehearsal room, he could hear the murmur of voices, the tuning of instruments, and the occasional burst of laughter or a sharp command. Today, the halls of his own school would play host not just to its students but also to their rivals from Riverrun Conservatory.

Aemond entered the rehearsal room to find it already half-filled with his peers, each one keenly aware of the significance of the day. The room was set up with chairs and stands arranged in a precise semi-circle, awaiting the arrival of the Riverrun musicians.

Before long, the members of Riverrun Conservatory began to filter in, their expressions a mix of confident smiles and cautious glances. The room's atmosphere thickened with the tangible sense of competition, each group eyeing the other, assessing and reassessing.

Amid this tense backdrop, Alys slipped into the room, a notepad clutched in her hand and a pen poised for action. Her presence was a sharp reminder to Aemond of the dual aspects of their relationship. She caught his eye and offered a slight nod, an unspoken signal that she was here in her professional capacity.

The rehearsal began with Otto taking the lead, his voice firm as he called for attention. "Let's begin with a warm-up. Remember, while we share our space today, let's show our guests the level of excellence we strive for."

Aemond took his place, settling his cello between his knees. His fingers danced over the strings, tuning with meticulous care, his gaze occasionally drifting to the Riverrun musicians who were setting up nearby. Among them, he noticed a young woman, stood between two other boys who looked over her at one another with smug smiles. They were most certainly either violinists or cellists. But the woman between them, he saw, had such delicate fingers, this had to be the pianist he had heard so much about.

All watched them perform with a sort of challenging, stoic expression, as if judging every movement, every chord and sound made. Every choice scrutinised. In the corner of his eye, between glances at the music, Aemond noticed Alys scribbling down notes.

And when their performance came to an end, Riverrun Conservatory clapped, alongside their conductor, Lyonel Strong. He was burly, red-cheeked, strict but well-meaning, as far as Aemond had heard. But the way he and Otto Hightower looked at one another was akin to some secret rivalry nobody else was privy to.

Alys slid up to Aemond’s side as he began to tidy his instrument away, her presence immediately electric. “See that man?” she whispered, nodding subtly towards Lyonel. “He conducts with his heart on his sleeve, not a metronome like Otto. That’s why they play with such passion. It’s infectious, captivating.”

Aemond nodded, absorbing her analysis. He knew of her critical acumen, but there was a personal edge to her voice now. “You sound almost admiring,” he observed, watching her closely.

Alys’s expression darkened slightly, her emerald eyes flitting back to Lyonel. “I might admire his style, but not the man. Not after everything.” She sighed, a sound more resigned than angry. “He might be the maestro of emotions, Aemond, but off that podium, he’s a different story.”

Aemond did not inquire further. If he was being truthful with himself, he didn't much care for Alys' personal grievances.

“Keep a close eye on their cellist,” Alys warned from the sidelines, watching Riverrun tune and start up their instruments for their own warm up.

As Riverrun began their performance, Aemond’s attention initially settled on the cellist, analysing his fluid technique and the rich emotion flowing from his strings. However, his focus soon drifted to the pianist, who was poised before her instrument like a painter in front of a blank canvas. Her movements were almost ethereal, feather-like, as her fingers danced across the keys, each note floating into the air with a delicate precision that seemed to transcend the mechanics of the piano itself.

The pianist's performance captivated Aemond, her connection with the music evident in the subtle sway of her body and the gentle closing of her eyes as she played. It was more than mere execution, it was an embodiment of the piece, a true manifestation of feeling and artistry.

Alys, standing beside Aemond, watched the pianist with a discerning eye. After a moment, she leaned closer to Aemond and whispered, "See how she plays? It’s like she’s not just striking notes, but weaving a spell. Each touch is thoughtful, precise yet so naturally expressive."

Aemond nodded, fully absorbed in the performance. He could see what Alys meant—the pianist wasn’t just playing, she was performing in a way that made the piano speak directly to the audience. It was an inspiring display of how technique served as the foundation for emotional expression.

"Her approach is impressive," Alys continued, her voice a mix of professional respect and genuine admiration. "That’s what we need to aim for, Aemond. It’s not just about the notes, but how you make them feel alive, how you connect them to the listener’s soul."

Watching the pianist, Aemond felt a surge of inspiration mixed with a competitive drive. He realised that this was the standard he needed to meet and exceed. The way the pianist’s performance resonated in the room, how it seemed to stir the hearts of all who listened, including his own—it set a clear benchmark.

As the piece drew to a close, and the final note lingered in the air, a hushed silence fell over the room before applause erupted. The pianist looked up, her expression serene, almost surprised by the intensity of the audience’s reaction.

Aemond clapped, his applause thoughtful, infused with a newfound respect and a burning motivation. He turned to Alys, a determined look in his eyes. "I see it now," he said. "But she's nothing special. Our pianist is just as good."

“Just as good isn't enough. We have to be better. We need to surpass them—to be so outstanding that Riverrun feels like just a prelude to our performance. They shouldn’t just be impressed by us; they should be overwhelmed."

Aemond’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he processed her words. He watched the pianist from Riverrun mingle with the crowd, her presence still resonating with the lingering notes of her performance.

The shy, timid prodigy. A story written a million times. He felt as if he saw right through her, and no way was that washing with him.

“Meet me in the supply room before lunch,” Alys whispered, turning on her heel before Aemond could reply. The swing of her hips as she moved towards the Riverrun musicians and indication of what she wanted from him. All she ever wanted from him.

Aemond merely watched on from the sidelines, arms crossed. Alys mingled with them all, shaking their hands and wishing them luck in the weeks of practice and competitiveness to come. And when she finally shook the hand of the pianist, his gaze flickered between his lover and the delicate frame of this stranger he had yet to know.

Everything about her was different to Alys. She wore sheer black tights, and sensible shoes. Her skirt was flowy and ended mid tight, covered only at the top by her high-necked top, also black. And it was here he recognised a similarity in her and Aemond's dress sense.

Alys on the other hand exuded sexuality. Tight fitting skirts and dresses, no tights and heels at least four inches high. And while Alys wore a sleek straight style, the pianist was loose and free, if not slightly frizzy.

He watched the two women talking animatedly. Alys no doubt congratulating her on how well she plays.

He'd never been in more need of a cigarette then right at this moment.

“I apologise for him, he’s usually more expressive on stage than off,” Alys joked lightly as they approached, teasing Aemond in her usual manner.

The pianist extended her hand to Aemond with a firm, confident grip that surprised him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve seen your performances online,” she stated, her tone straightforward, skipping the usual pleasantries. Her directness was refreshing yet unexpected.

Aemond took her hand, a bit taken aback by her assertiveness. “Thank you,” he responded, realising only after the words left his mouth that she hadn’t actually complimented his work, just acknowledged it. “Your performance today was quite remarkable.”

“Thank you,” she replied, nodding politely, her smile brief. There was no reciprocal flattery, no effusive praise—just a clear, concise acknowledgment.

Her straightforwardness intrigued Aemond. It was rare for him to encounter someone who didn’t engage in the typical exchange of mutual admiration among peers, especially when one had just praised the other. Her confidence and lack of concern for social niceties made him rethink the usual dance of compliments that often felt more obligatory than genuine.

Their exchange maintained a professional veneer, but Aemond felt a distinct chill in the air as the pianist held his gaze with an unyielding intensity.

“I'm interested. How do you prepare for a performance of this calibre?” She asked in a probing manner, clasping her hands behind her back. And when she swept her hair out her face, a dash of her perfume hit him, light and floral, he noted.

“I focus deeply on the composition's technical demands," he responded crisply, his voice carrying a cool, almost detached quality. "Emotional expression is secondary to flawless execution.”

She bit back a smile he noticed before she could hide it, “that is quite a disciplined approach.”

"It’s the only way to ensure a performance is beyond reproach," he stated flatly, eyes scanning the room. "Judges appreciate perfection.”

“And the audience?”

He shrugged, “whether they do or not, it doesn't change my approach.”

She nodded, leaving a long pause, as if laying a trap, “interesting,” she mused, "I always believed that connecting with the audience was the true measure of a performance’s success."

“Emotions are too subjective.”

Alys, sensing the growing tension, interjected with a light laugh. "Aemond here is all about the technicalities when it comes to music. He believes in precision over passion."

The pianist tilted her head slightly, considering his response with an analytical gaze before a playful glimmer appeared in her eyes. “Are all aspects of your life subject to such rules?” her tone light, but probing. “Musicians are usually branded as romantics, after all.”

Aemond's brow twitched, a subtle annoyance. “There is a time and a place. In a competition, it's about control. Discipline.”

She hummed, slightly amused, “how practical. Does it not get lonely, striving so often for perfection?”

He shrugs, “it doesn't matter. Wins are measurable, feelings not so.”

“Musicians are not remembered for their wins. They're remembered for the feelings they tease out of people.”

Aemond’s gaze held steady, impressed by her ability to intertwine light-hearted banter with serious debate. “Maybe so, but I’d rather be remembered for setting records than stirring hearts.”

There was a long pause, her eyes never leaving him as if trying to piece together a delicate and intricate puzzle. And she had to bite her lip to contain her smile, simmering frustration in his chest.

“Interesting,” she mused, releasing her lip from between her teeth.

She finally broke their intense gaze, stepping back slightly as she prepared to leave. "Thank you for the conversation, Aemond. It was... enlightening," she said, her tone serious and reflective. "I'll be interested to see how your focus on the technicalities plays out in the competition. Good luck."

With a formal nod, she turned and walked away, her demeanour composed and professional. Aemond watched her rejoin her group, the interaction leaving him with a lingering sense of disquiet. Her straightforward, no-nonsense approach had challenged his views subtly yet profoundly, pushing him to reconsider the balance between technique and emotion in his performances.

Something he'd considered very little.

And as he fucked out his frustrations with Alys in the supply room, pushing her front against the wall and plunging into the tight warmth and solitude she offered, the encounter had ignited a new sense of challenge within him, or perhaps it was a hint of doubt, unsettling the confidence he had always felt in his methodical approach to music.

The usual clarity with which he viewed his musical career was now clouded with questions, thanks to a simple yet impactful exchange. It was a confrontation of ideals that made him both wary and intrigued.

It was clear now that the competition had escalated to more than just notes and rhythms—it was a clash of philosophies, a duel of passion in dual meaning.

And he was prepared to meet it head on.

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highvern · 6 months

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Drunk Goggles (Heart Eyes) II [morning after]

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x reader

Genre: fluff, idiots in love

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, friends to lovers, confessions, hand holding and smooches

Length: ~1k

Note: Sequel to Drunk Goggles ! its short but i will probably keep updating/editing it because im a perfectionist and never happy with any of my writing. I have two more drafts for them that I'm editing right now and then I'll probably focus on something new! In other news, Mingyu makes me wanna slut him out put a ring on his finger so bad

When morning comes, you wake to the soft light of dawn gently illuminating your bedroom and a nasty headache. You brave opening your eyes to search for Mingyu, easily locating his large form as he lays on his back on the other side of the bed. Flailing across the short distance between you, you burrow down into his chest and throw a leg over his hips to steal some of his heat against the morning chill. Finger tips trace gentle circles against the smooth skin of his tummy, letting you enjoying the rise and fall of his chest.

Like you were thrown in an ice bath, everything from last night comes racing forward. You remember it all. How you both stayed within a foot radius of one another all night, clinging to each other in the sweltering heat of the club. All the brushes of lips against skin, becoming more and more daring as the night dragged on. Worst of all, right before you passed out, how you whispered all your feelings into his shoulder and sealed them with a kiss.

Today. You think. You need to talk to Mingyu today.

But as he continues to snore quietly above you, you're lulled back to sleep and away from the ocean of nerves that threatens to drown you.

The second time you wake is to a hand gently carding through your hair, carefully working away the tangles from tossing and turning through the night. Another hand is tracing the ridges and valleys of your knuckles on your hand laid across his sternum. With a deep inhale, you stretch against Mingyu to let him know you're awake, yawning as you blink against the sun.

"Sorry," He croaks. "didn't mean to wake you."

"It's fine," you assure, voice still thick with sleep.

“We should talk.” He sighs

“Okay.” You whisper.

“I–,” Mingyu starts, the pep talk he gave himself for the past thirty minutes dissolving on his tongue. He swallows in an attempt to get his nerve back but you beat him to the punch.

“Ireallylikeyou.”

The silence is deafening.

You both knew. Painfully aware of your own feelings as well as each other's. The issue time and time again wasn’t the lack of knowledge of how the other felt but the dread that if you said something and it didn’t work out you’d lose each other forever. But after last night neither of you care to keep up the charade. Mingyu wants to call you his girlfriend, take you to dinner with his family, hold your hand in public and parade you around for everyone to see how lucky he is. And you're in the same exact boat. You want to tell anyone who will listen about how amazing he is, not just as Mingyu your friend but as Mingyu your boyfriend; let him be the first person you see in the morning and last at night; let all the fantasies that play in a loop in your head become a reality.

“I like you too.” He finally breathes, weight lifted off his shoulders.

It's fascinating how such life altering confessions don't change anything as much as you think it will. For months, you thought that the day you both confessed would make the world start spinning in reverse or the sun would fall out of the sky. But the room is as calm as it was before you shared your thoughts. Sheets ruffling gently to the swirl of the overhead fan droning above you. Outside, cars bustle on the street while the family of birds living in the tree next to your window sing their morning hymn. If you strain your ears then you can hear your downstairs neighbors returning from their morning walk with their yappy dog. Today is like every other Saturday morning but nothing like them at the same time.

“Yeah?” You smile, unable to look at him just yet. Instead you turn your face into his pec, trying to contain the giddiness bubbling under your skin like sea foam.

“Yeah.” Mingyu responds, sighing in relief. He wraps his arms around you snuggly, holding you close while his heart drums wildly in his chest.

When Mingyu decides to rest his lips against your hair, you giggle like a schoolgirl. It can’t be helped. You just confessed to Mingyu like you were two sixteen year olds and it makes you giddy. He likes you.

“What’s so funny?”

“You like me.” You sing, smile blinding.

Your head is turning towards Mingyu’s, catching the way his eyes crinkle and mouth twists in delight. He’s laughing as well, flustered by the morning’s developments.

“You like me too!” Mingyu accuses.

“I know.” Your face softens as you lose your breath. "Isn't it great?"

“So," he starts, suddenly bashful under your gaze. "Does this mean I can count breakfast today as our first date?”

God, he’s so cute it hurts.

“You absolutely can.”

The smiles threatening to split both of your faces in half make kissing difficult but you figure it out pretty quickly.

When you arrive at the entrance of the farmers market hours later, Ms. Kwon observes you and Mingyu as you stroll to her booth. She notes the way your hands are tangled together, faces bright red, sneaking shy glances at each other. Interesting, she thinks.

Testing the waters, she asks if your boyfriend is going to buy the usual bouquet of wildflowers he gets you every Saturday. You don’t rebuke her use of the word "boyfriend" this time, instead sharing a small yes. When Mingyu responds with an even more ridiculously happy expression than the one he strode in with, she hides a knowing smile. Mr. Lee, who sells fresh pastries further down the market, owes her dinner.

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