#♥ : answers

[bunnieswithknives]

OK JUST A LITTLE THING BECAUSE IM INSANE @cubbihue

Song: Plastic by Cheekface

[ma1dita]

Duddee, now you gotta write luke proposing to trouble, you simply cannot now IBHBHKK

the perfect weekend

a ‘partners in crime’ alternate universe installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

alternate universe masterpost

words: 1.2k (this was too cute the word count escaped me)

summary: alternate universe - the perfect weekend with your perfect boy, even if he thinks otherwise

a/n: happy luke happy luke happy luke FIANCE LUKE 

(posted 2/4/23 unbetad and written on caffeine)

—

This weekend felt like a dream.

Luke took you to your favorite spots that you’ve both carved memories out of in Westport, buying you and his mom gorgeous fresh flowers from the farmers’ market, and he let you drag him around his hometown, spending hours in tiny antique shops and the record store on Main Street. He couldn’t get over how you always found fun in the simple things— even going to the pharmacy to pick up his mom’s medication felt like going to Disney World with you. He couldn’t be more sure of his decision, it was almost inconceivable to spend another day without you being his fiancee.

But luck wasn’t known to be on his side, after all (yeah, thanks dad). Luke’s always had to work harder to get what he wants, and he’s spent the past few years trying to prove himself to your dad—though deep down, he thinks Mr. D doesn’t mind him as much as he makes it seem. (Asking him for his blessing last week over a bottle of wine and a bone-shaking hug scared the wits out of him. He pretended to not notice the god cry.)

Luke just wants to give you what you deserve. And if he needs to spend the rest of his life working on it to prove it, he ought to do it with you by his side.

But he couldn’t think of how.

He tried proposing over dinner last night, with the smell of burnt cookies in the air, but that wasn’t romantic at all, and his hands were shaking so hard he knocked a glass over, prompting you and his mom to fuss over the mess and giggle over his silliness. You both chatted deep into the night, Luke sitting quietly and nodding at two of his favorite women babbling about who knows what (Sometimes he’s still convinced you like his mom more than him, but the way you both take care of him makes him tear up if he thinks too hard about it).

When you went horseriding this afternoon, he set up a picnic for lunch, which was romantic. Chocolate-covered strawberries and sandwiches made by mom, sparkling cider twinkling in the sun. Luke was sure it was going to be great timing— until he realized the ring box fell out of his pocket again, and he slipped in manure trying to rush you back to the house (The sound of your laughter at clumsiness made his heart warm though, and it almost made up for the three hours he looked for the stupid box in the grass that night when you fell asleep with his tiny Star Wars-themed flashlight).

He woke you up early before the sun rose, carrying you out to the car still bundled up in his old Toy Story throw blanket that you wouldn’t let him toss out when he brought it to college (The faded pictures of Buzz and Woody kept a smile on your face, and the memories it brought make you feel connected to 9-year-old Luke). The drive to the beach was short, a sleepy smile on your face as you felt Luke grab onto your hand, sand getting between your toes before he laid out a blanket and the both of you sat down.

Cracking open a redbull for the both of you to sip on, you leaned against his muscled frame, legs hanging over his lap as he wiped the sand off your feet, holding you close as he smiled.

“Good morning, handsome,” you grinned, leaning up for a kiss. Luke obliged, savoring the taste of you mixed with sleep and artificial peach. Your noses nudge against each other before he mumbles a reply, “Good morning, pretty girl.”

“Y’know? I could die happy just like this. I can’t think of anything else that would make this weekend more perfect.”

Luke hummed in contemplation, “I could think of a few things,” he said, as a laugh bubbled from his lips. A noise of confusion rose from you as you reached up to dust lint off his shirt before your knee nudged something hard in his pocket, and your eyebrow raised in mischief.

“Dirty boy, you get me out of your mom’s house and you’re already excited?”

And he laughed the stress off until it freed itself from his bones, pure elation radiating off of him before Eos even had a chance to spread her first rays of light into the sky. 

He’s never needed perfect.

He just needs you.

His hands dug into his pocket, pulling out the ring box that’s caused him so much trouble this weekend. But a life with you should’ve already prepared him for that—and the shock on your face became funnier when you launched yourself on top of him, kicking up sand and taking the air out of his lungs.

You both hit the ground with a loud thud, your nose buried in his chest as he chuckles at your scream. Why was he even worried to begin with? 

“Wait, wait, I still have something to say trouble, don’t jump ahead of the script!”

His hand rubbed your back in gentle strokes as he popped the box open to reveal a delicate golden band with two diamonds juxtaposed against each other sitting pretty on top.

“It’s always been you and me. And I’ve spent hours thinking of what to say, days trying to figure out when the time would be right, months working for a pretty ring that’s perfect for you, years loving you… and well… I want more. I want this, you and me spending the rest of our lives together because I can’t comprehend a future without you. I’d do anything for you trouble, and I don’t believe in much, but I believe in you. Us.”

You’ve cried so hard by this point that you’re convinced it’s so goddamn ugly but Luke smiles at you like he’s been promised immortality. And perhaps he has, with the future you two will have scrolling through his mind like an old film, a house on a hill, kids, a dog, shit—whatever you want as long as he’s with you it’ll be the closest thing to forever he’d have.

“Are you sure?” you said sniffling, and your boyfriend wiped your tears away like he has countless times before, though happy tears are something he’ll have to get used to.

“I literally ruined your proposal, I just thought you were horny, oh my gods…” Whining loudly and laughing, you held your shaking hand out as he sat up to put the ring on your finger.

“Well, we can fix that later. I still have a question to ask, after all.”

Luke grinned when your head nodded rapidly, finally shutting up so you wouldn’t interrupt him again.

“Will you,” he says so surely now, saying your name before continuing, “let me have the honor of spending the rest of our lives together as your husband?”

“Gods, yes. Fucking hell angelface, did you really think I’d say no?”

The both of you laughed through tears and snot as he placed the ring on your left hand, and still, it couldn’t be more perfect.

“A life with trouble is the life for me,” he mused, laughing as you covered his face in kisses before the both of you fell back into the sand a tangle of lips and lust and love.

You jolted up from your fiance’s embrace just as he thought he was going to get lucky, almost emptying your entire wallet of drachmas into the sand-covered blanket to Iris message your friends.

---

(pics are not representative of reader's appearance or gender just a lil visual for funsies)

ask to be added to general/luke taglists!

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[aericide]

⢑⠨⠂ ᥡou cᥲᥒ drι᥎e aᥣl night ⭐️

[s0fti3w1tch]

Story 1 - Enemies

*if it wasn't clear, the scene maskless Leo (in this part) are flashbacks from several years in the past

Part 1 || Part 2 (Here!) || Next (Coming Soon)

Masterpost

I'll answer asks from before and after this comic part after my work tomorrow (aka today because it's 1 AM help) ♥︎edit: nvm, I'm about to knock out. I'll get t y'all soon this week!

[hwa-ae]

Keep Quiet —

: ̗̀⇢pairings: student! dohoon x fem! reader

: ̗̀⇢synopsis: IN WHICH you and dohoon cant seem to control yourselves once left alone in an empty classroom after school.

: ̗̀⇢genre: smut, nsfw

: ̗̀⇢warnings: nsfw content, both read and dohoon are of legal age, fingering, p in v, dirty talk, slightly mean dohoon :(, pre-established relationship, dacryphilia, slight chocking, no protection (dont learn from them), public sex, minors do not interact (you are responsible for the content you consume)

: ̗̀⇢author's note: woah! first dohoon post and it happens to be a smut fic 🙏🏻

"dohoon- wait!" you tried to pry dohoon's hand away from between your thighs. you two were in a random empty classroom after school to 'study', except your boyfriend happened to have a... situation after you bent down to grab your pen which has rolled away onto the floor.

"i cant wait, [name], not after you practically shoved yourself in my face..." he mumbled, leaning down to leave open mouth kisses on your soft skin around your neck.

"what if people walk in and see?" you tried to hold his hand, which has been inching closer every second, away from it's goal.

"its after school, nobody will be here anyways, please baby?" he pleaded, looking at you with those eyes you couldnt resist. you finally nodded, moving your hand away from his, allowing it to inch closer and closer to whats behind your underwear.

you let out a soft moan after he rubbed against your clit through your underwear, moving his finger up and down slowly while kissing you deeply.

"shit, [name] you're so wet... is this all for me, baby?" he teased you, moving away to have a better look at your face, smirking as he saw your red face and embarrassed expression.

you stayed quiet, moving your hips against his hand as he halted his movement to stare at you before he stopped your hips with his other hand.

"what a needy girl..." he laughs out, sliding your underwear down your legs, carrying you up to rest you against the desk.

"stop teasing me, dohoonie... you were the horny one anyways..." you huffed, looking away and crossing your arms over your chest, embarrassed as you tried to defend your pride.

"alright, alright, but you wanted this too..." he slowly slid a finger into you as he continued talking. "so wet, my finger slid right in..."

you let out soft breaths, leaning your head against dohoon's wide chest as he fingered you slowly, adding in another finger to help loosen you up.

"shh... stay quiet baby, you wouldn't want someone to walk in on us now, do you? i bet you would like that though," he whispered in your ear as you whimpered, his voice sending shivers down your spine, straight to between your legs.

he sped up his movements, adding in a third finger to stretch you out as much as possible to take him later.

"i cant wait anymore, [name], can i put it in? do you need me to finger you more?" he asked quickly for your consent, not wanting to hurt you in anyway possible, to which you shook your head quickly, begging him to fuck you as soon as possible.

he unzipped his pants, sliding it down enough to pull his cock out of his underwear, using your slick as lube to slide into you smoothly. as soon as he bottomed out inside of you, dohoon lets out a loud groan, looking at where you two are connected with intense eyes.

"youre so tight, are you trying to milk me dry, hm?" he asks a rhetorical question, reaching his hand down to rub your clit slowly. "turn around for me baby, bend over the desk for me."

he slid out of you, turning you around to bend you over in a doggy style position before sliding in again. he began to move his hips, moving quicker and quicker every second, finding a quick rhythm to move his hips to.

"fuck, you feel so good around me..." he cursed, leaning forward and bringing a hand around your throat to pull you back against him, just enough for him to twist his neck to kiss you deeply.

loud pants and skin slapping sounds echoes from the four walls of the room, the locked door not allowing any sounds to travel outside the walls.

"im gonna cum, do you want it inside or outside?" he asked quickly, not halting his movements even after you responded with a soft 'outside'. his thrusts got quicker and sloppier, turning into small humps and less like thrusts with each passing second as he gets closer and closer.

"fuck!" he cursed loudly as he pulled out, spilling all over your back as you orgasmed from his fingers rubbing your clit the entire time. he leaned over, pulling you into a tired kiss as he took his time to breath and rest after that.

he walks away, grabbing a bunch of tissues at the front of the classroom, before walking back and cleaning you off with the tissues.

"you did so well for me, baby. thank you so much for taking care of me," he kissed your cheek and leaves a peck on your lip before pulling your underwear back up and sitting you down on his lap, allowing you to take a short nap, wrapped in his arms ♡

© 2024, hwa-ae ♥︎

do not steal, plagiarise or translate my work on any platforms!

[lauraneedstochill]

The object of my desires

summary: You overhear Aemond making a snarky remark about the way you dress. You decide to teach him a lesson. warnings: friends to lovers (both are idiots), a dash of angst, a lot of teasing, things get very heated (NSFW), with a sprinkle of softness. words: ~6500 (it was supposed to be shorter but they started making out...) author’s note: the idea first popped into my head months ago when I saw this post. also, for the longest time I’ve been thinking that “you are the bane of my existence” monologue is a perfect fit for Aemond — and yet I haven’t seen a single fic* using that quote?! so I finally decided to give it a try.

If anyone asked you to describe your relationship with Aemond, you would’ve said that the two of you were almost friendly. The almost part was the trickiest one to explain because, even though both of you acted very content with the way of things, you still couldn’t help but think that you wanted something more, no matter how much you’ve tried to deny it.

You got to know him through Helaena who you befriended when you were ten and six. A year older than you, she was the weird girl no one wanted to talk to and you approached her out of curiosity but soon learned that she had a cheerful nature and quite a nimble mind. She loved your sharp sense of humor and energetic wit and the two of you became close, your contrasting personalities complimenting each other very well.

Your introduction to her brothers was brief and for a couple of months, you didn’t interact with either of them. She’s been married to Aegon for four years back then and even though he immediately didn’t strike you as a faithful husband — always a cup away from being wasted and shamelessly gazing at every maid’s legs — he mostly looked harmless. Aemond, however, was the exact opposite — guarded and collected, he kept his distance from everyone, making it clear that it was his choice. You could only get a good look at the prince when you were passing the training yard, and a couple of times you found your gaze lingering on him — on the lean body and tense muscles, on the way he moved the sword with ease. In those moments you felt the danger radiating off him, yet it never scared you away. But you knew better than to fawn over the prince who seemingly paid you no mind.

A significant change came on the evening of Aegon’s ten and ninth birthday which Helaena begged you to come to — you weren’t fond of big events but couldn’t say no to her. For the most part, the feast was tolerable as you’ve spent it by her side, making glib remarks about the guests, much to your friend’s amusement. But when the celebration died down and all the nobles began to disperse, Aegon, drunk out of his mind, decided to make advances toward his wife whom he ignored for the duration of the evening. His approach was harsh and unexpected, and the look on Helaena’s face shuttered your heart. 

“Your grace, your manners escape you,” you tried warning him, shielding your friend but Aegon was too wasted to notice your fiery gaze. In his inebriated state, he probably mistook you for a maid as he grabbed your arm in an effort to shove you aside. Next thing you know, your fist connected with his nose — and then Aegon was lying on the floor, eyes wide and blood gushing down his face as you stood next to him, fuming. Before he could think of an answer, Aemond appeared out of nowhere — just in time to drag his brother away, while the drunkard was hurling insults at you in a frenzy. Only when they left, it dawned on you what you just did. 

You expected for the king’s guard to come for your head in the morrow, but instead, a few surprising things happened. First, you learned that the boys didn’t rat you out, making it look like they were the ones who got into a fight. Aegon did apologize to Helaena and from that day, his temper softened as he never dared to repeat his mistake. But, most importantly, Aemond took a sudden interest in you.

Overall, his behavior stayed the same, but you regularly caught him looking in your direction, and every time you saw each other, he made sure to acknowledge your presence. He never initiated the conversation first, only sometimes curtly voicing his opinion, yet you noticed him paying attention to your chattering with Helaena — and you could swear that a few times he suppressed a laugh at your jokes.

The mystery veil that the prince was surrounded with sparked your curiosity, and you wanted to crack down his guard, to get a chance to know him. The opportunity presented itself one day when Helaena and you came to watch Aemond train. You saw him and Criston arguing as the prince was late to his studies but Cole refused to let Aemond leave until he wins the last bout. Whether he wasn’t in the right mood or had something distracting him, Aemond kept losing, and his teacher only pushed him further, relentless in his attempts.

“Ser Criston, you’re putting yourself in harm’s way,” you chimed in, making the man turn to you with a chuckle, while Aemond gave you a tired look.

“May it be that the finest swordsman of the realm is simply avoiding his responsibilities?” you suggested with a light grin.

“Mayhaps he is in need of some encouragement,” Cole teased. 

“Well, I would’ve volunteered to share the burden of learning with him,” you remark. “If only he could win this one bout,” you added, keeping eye contact with the prince.

It took Aemond about two minutes to knock his opponent to the ground which made Helaena gasp in surprise while you were trying to hide a smile. Without a word, Aemond came to you, and the two of you went to the library. On your way there, he kept silent, but you were not intimidated at all. When you walked into the room, Aemond hesitated as if giving you a chance to change your mind. But you boldly turned to him:

“If you mean to scare me with the prospect of studying, I should warn you that I’ve read more books than you can count,” you informed the prince.

It was the first time when you saw him smiling — widely and shamelessly, looking very smug.

“You are full of surprises, my lady,” he grinned. “Do you mean to challenge me?”

It turned out that Aemond liked challenges, and you enjoyed being one. Since that day, you got into the habit of joining him in the library and the prince would accompany you in his free time more often than not. You would dare him to read faster, to fight harder, to engage in conversations — or sometimes to simply have fun. Whenever you had a reason to disagree with him, he was always respectful and found himself entertained by your way of thinking, which made your discussions and even arguments span for hours.

As years went by, you kept playfully bantering back and forth, and Helaena told you that you were the only one allowed to act like that around her brother. You couldn’t understand what his motives were but it was hard to deny that his company was pleasant. Aemond grew up into quite an eligible bachelor and his attention did flatter you, even though he never crossed the line. Sometimes you even dared to entertain the thought that maybe — just maybe — Aemond had a soft spot for you.

Until one day things took a turn. Helaena’s twentieth birthday was meant to be just another celebration that you would’ve skipped if it wasn’t for her. The only way for you to pass the time was dancing which you’ve actually come to love in recent years, enjoying the rhythm of the music that helped to lighten your mood. Your dear friend mostly preferred to sit back so you were often compelled to find yourself a company that would be bearable, at the very least. That evening, you got acquainted with Jacaerys Velaryon, the boy being younger than you but almost a foot taller. He approached you with a small smile on the pretext of knowing Helaena, and you soon learned that he was a good dancer. But the best thing about Jace was that he spend most of his time talking about his betrothed, Baela, who he was absolutely smitten with. The girl sadly couldn’t be present as she had to stay with her dad, who recently sailed home, and the dark-haired boy couldn’t keep his mouth shut. All the time while dancing he was either gushing about her or asking your advice, which you found adorable and gladly chatted with him.

Throughout the feast, you felt Aemond looking at you, probably more than usual. You knew that he wasn’t fond of dancing and even though his gaze on you felt rather good, deep down you wished that he was the one you were spending time with. After a couple of hours, however, you saw his usual spot empty, and the prince was nowhere to be found. For some reason, you got a very bad feeling and, after leaving Jace to take a break, you went to Helaena. She informed you that Aemond left not so long ago, adding that it looked like her brother was upset about something.

That’s how you ended up roaming through the castle halls, giving in to the unsettling feeling churning in your stomach. Passing by one of the chambers, you suddenly hear voices and realize that it's Aemond talking to his brother. You don’t mean to eavesdrop and were about to turn around — but then Aegon mentions your name.

“You are foolish to wait for so long. You could’ve at least asked Y/N for a dance,” his remark is followed by gulping sounds. Is he ever without a cup? You hold back a giggle — which quickly disappears when you hear Aemond’s answer.

“I prefer not to waste my time on such futile activities,” and his voice is unexpectedly grim.

“You may want to reconsider when the lady has every man’s attention. Even the Strong boy was pretty much drooling,” he chuckles, and his words make your brows furrow as you are certain he has no ground to suggest that. You’re a moment away from drowning in doubts, but the younger prince brings you back to reality.

“I suppose it’s hard not to, with the way she’s been dressing lately,” Aemond deadpans.

He says it with a flat tone — yet it feels like a punch that knocks all of the air out of your lungs. There’s a brief pause — and Aegon sounds almost sober when he asks, with a hint of surprise in his voice.

“And what about her dresses?”

“I found them to be... rather bawdy. Although I’m not impressed in the slightest,” Aemond forces out.

Your heart sinks at his words, cheeks heating up. You wait for him to say anything else, to give an explanation, at least one reason for his accusations but there is none. Aegon laughs — and you feel sick to your stomach, realizing that you cannot bear listening to their conversation any longer.

You walk away as quietly as possible, with cotton feet and your hands shaking. You rush past the hall and out of the castle, tears pricking in your eyes. Only once you are all alone, embraced by the silence of the night, you take a deep breath of air. Aemond’s words are ringing in your ears, loud and clear. You look down at your dress in disbelief: the neckline is basically non-existent, your arms are fully covered, and it barely shows any skin at all. And yet he thinks this is inappropriate? 

Your cheeks are wet and burning yet you feel anger bubbling in your chest. You never thought Aemond could be cruel — and yet it’s him, out of all people, who let those vile words slip out of his mouth like they meant nothing. Like you meant nothing to him. For years, you heard people calling him cold-hearted and arrogant but you were naive to believe that the prince made an exception for you. Out of all the mistakes you’ve made so far, this one might’ve been the most painful one.

Your outrage spreads like a wildfire as you think back to every interaction you’ve had with Aemond, his every glance and every word that fooled you into thinking that he cared. Was he secretly criticizing you the whole time? How many other jokes did he make behind your back? Who even gave him the right to judge whether your dresses are acceptable or not? As if he is any different from all the other men whose brains turn into mush when they get a glimpse of a female body.

You stop dead in your tracks when an idea suddenly forms in your head. It’s very uncharacteristic of you — at first, you hesitantly brush it off, thinking that it’s not wise to make any emotional decisions. And yet the idea keeps nagging at you for the remainder of the night and for a few hours you ponder if you should take such a brazen approach. But then his unkind remark pops back in your memory — over and over and over.

By the time the morning comes, you make up your mind.

He says he isn’t impressed in the slightest? There is only one way to find out for sure. On the very next day, you take Helaena for a walk in the garden, well aware that her brothers will accompany you as Aegon doesn’t have anything else to do and Aemond prefers to take a stroll after his training. Your dress is close-fitted yet modest, not an inch shorter than necessary. It is not about the dress but what’s underneath it — and the object in question clinks lightly with your every step. You show it to Helaena right away and she finds it delightful, the jingling only making her smile. Then her siblings come to join you, you curtsy but barely spare Aemond a glance. You don’t ask a single question about his day, instead taking interest in Aegon. The older prince gives you a suspicious side-eye but welcomes the chatting. It doesn’t take long before he notices the sound, too.

“Am I the only one who can hear the clinking? I am almost certain that it’s not just in my head,” he debates.

“Oh, it’s Y/N’s doing,” Helaena beams unsuspectingly.

“Apologies, my prince, it’s my aunt’s gift that caught your ear,” you slow down and take a few seconds to make sure you’ve got everyone’s attention.

And then, with one gentle motion, you pull up your dress — ever so slightly, just enough to show your ankle and the thin bracelet wrapped around it. The jewelry is made out of gold and it instantly catches the sunlight, casting warm sparkles on your skin. It’s decorated with tiny coins which make a jingling sound as you slowly turn your leg from side to side.

“I thought it was rather pretty. Don’t you think?” you only look at Aegon.

“Umm yes,” he gulps. “Rather pretty it is,” the prince mumbles, and then his gaze shifts to someone else. You don’t need to turn your head to know who he’s looking at. Instead, you continue with your walk without a care in the world.

“I should ask my aunt to bring you a similar one, my dear,” you suggest to Helaena and she eagerly agrees.

You have a few other gifts for Aemond, too. Next time you opt for a different bracelet — with no coins and no jingling, a simple golden chain. But your dress is a tad bit shorter and the jewelry catches everyone’s eye with ease as it looks like a ray of light curled around your ankle. You deliberately walk through the training yard, arm-in-arm with Helaena. You give Ser Christon the brightest smile, and he politely nods in your direction.

“Good morrow, ladies.”

“How’s your training coming along, Ser Criston?” you ask, and it feels strange to talk to him instead of Aemond. You bitterly remind yourself that you apparently overstated the value of those conversations.

“I’m afraid, we are hardly progressing. Mayhaps you will keep us company? I fear, we are in need of some cheerful words,” Cole shoots a glance at the prince who stands by, his eye fixed on you.

“Aren’t we all, Ser Criston,” you tilt your head at him. “But it seems like my pursuit of lessening your burden did nothing good,” and before he can ask anything else, you walk away, ignoring Aemond completely.

Helaena senses that something is off, giving you a worried look.

“Is there anything troubling you?”

“Not when I’m with you, my friend,” you reassure her and force your smile to look as believable as possible.

Partially, it is true as her company always brings you joy and you don’t want to sour her mood by recalling Aemond’s words that wounded your pride. You refuse to admit that he also grazed your heart. In a week, you accept Helaena’s invitation to join them for breakfast and you decide to up your game. It’s the perfect time of year for sleeveless dresses but the one you pick also has a daring addition: two thin cuts under your armpits. They are barely visible but when you put your arms up, it’s easy to distinguish the contour of your ribcage and the softness of your skin peeking through. You sit by Helaena’s side, easily keeping up with the conversation and not glancing at Aemond once. After the food is taken away and everyone starts wandering around the room, you get up to fix your hair, standing not too far away from the dining table as you raise your hands and run your fingers into your hairdo.

“May I offer assistance?” Aegon leans on the wall next to you, his mouth curling into a smile.

You roll your eyes and are about to shush him when he quietly adds:

“I know what you are doing,” you turn your gaze to him, and he winks at you. “From the look on my brother’s face, I can tell you that it’s working.”

You fight the urge to look at Aemond.

“I’m afraid I can’t share your concerns,” you are fiddling with hairpins absentmindedly.

Aegon shoots a glance over your shoulder and then back at you.

“He seems pretty bothered to me. Also pissed, but that may be my doing.”

“Look at you, my little helper,” you ramble as the cool air sneaks into the cuts of your dress, and you slightly quaver.

“Well, if you are ever in need of a helping hand...”

“I will not hesitate to stick this pin into your eye,” you cut him off.

“No need!” Aegon throws up his hands, cackling. “I’d like to keep them both. So I can have a better look at my brother’s reaction when you do... whatever you plan on doing,” the shit-eating grin on his face tells you that he is enjoying this.

But when you turn around and suddenly make eye contact with Aemond, your own enjoyment fades. You notice his frown and the probability of you being the reason for it doesn’t bring any satisfaction. You let Helaena lead you away, feeling his gaze on your back as you walk out. You do not yield to your emotions, continuing with your plan, as days turn into weeks, and then a month goes by without you as much as sharing a word with Aemond. Truth be told, you want nothing more than to stay away from him at all costs but you will not give him the satisfaction. He said he didn’t like the way you dress — and you make sure he sees every single dress you are in. You stay within the bounds of decency as you definitely have no intention to disgrace yourself, and none of your dresses are borderline scandalous, contrary to what any prince may think. You deign to let him see the curve of your neck with your hair up high, the bending of your shoulders and the sunkissed skin of your arms, the arc of your knees and mere glimpses of the upper part of your legs. You leave the rest to his imagination — granted, he has a good one considering how much time he spends reading.

During the second month, his patience starts running out.

In the years you’ve known Helaena, you learned all the ins and outs of the castle, so you manage to avoid Aemond at first, vanishing from his sight when needed. But, as time passes, you notice that he is tempted to talk to you, and escaping that possibility becomes harder with each day. One morning, when you walk into the yard, Aemond abruptly stops his training upon seeing you, and the two of you just stare at each other for a second, both startled and holding your breath. You are saved by Ser Criston, who calls for the prince, distracting him, giving you a chance to leave, and you all but run away.

After that day, you temporarily cease your visits to the castle, deciding to take a break and make up weak excuses to Helaena. Only now that you were apart, you realize how much you miss Aemond’s physical presence. His sudden, fleeting touches — to help you out of a carriage or to steady you after a fit of laughter, your hands brushing when you share books, his fingers sometimes lightly grazing your waist for the reason you are yet to know. You haven't talked to him for days, let alone felt him in your close proximity, and yet he's constantly on your mind. Somewhere in the midst of it all, you wake up at night realizing you yearn for him terribly. You wish you could go back to that damn evening of the feast, to confront him right away, to maybe get some clarification. But now too much time has passed and you’re too wrapped up in... whatever you plan on doing, so your ego insists that giving up isn’t an option.

When you receive the invitation for Aegon’s name day, you are ready to decline, but then begrudgingly decide to give it one last chance. You practice the look of indifference, the nonchalant tone, the proud gait, and you pull out your best dress. It’s green and the color is so bright, it dazzles the eyes, the material light and flowing — and yet, when you put it on, it feels incomplete. As you look in the mirror, the vivid tone of the fabric suddenly reminds you of something else. It’s a secret you once heard, a hushed conversation between the maids, one of which walked in on the prince when he wasn’t wearing his eyepatch. You only ponder for a minute and then reach for the jewelry piece that definitely will be hard not to notice. The castle is crowded, and you are one of the last guests to arrive. Bracing yourself, you pause at the door for a second. Ser Harrold, who stands there, lets out a surprised hum. “Should I take that as a sign of your disapproval?” you jest, watching his reaction.

“I wouldn’t dare to judge,'” he gives you a polite smile. “But I’m afraid all the men present are at risk of losing reason.”

His comment makes you chuckle and you step a bit closer, letting him take a better look.

“I thought it would match the occasion. Isn’t it beautiful?”

Ser Harrold, gods bless him, keeps his eyes on your face. “As always, it is, lady Y/N.”

It gives you enough confidence to walk in, appearing in all your glory.

The dress is a perfect fit, with a slit down your right side and an open back. The front neckline isn't deep but in the middle of it there’s a thin silver chain with a big, glittering sapphire — and the gem lays perfectly between your breasts. It’s only natural that everyone’s gaze is immediately drawn to the blue spark, all the men in the room gazing at it, voluntarily and not. But the effect their attention has is nothing compared to the wave of heat that warms your body when you feel a very particular gaze finally landing on you. You look right at him — and you catch him gawking, his lips slightly parted as he stares at the sapphire, too, almost in a trance. His hand is gripping a cup of wine with such force, you can see the whitening of his knuckles. When Aemond sharply glances up, your eyes lock for a second, and you look away first. So much for him not being impressed.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Jace waving at you to come sit with him, and you do not hesitate, letting the one-eyed prince out of sight.

You feel like his eye doesn’t leave you for a second.

You are barely able to sit still while dining and let out a sigh of relief when it’s time for dancing. You rush away from the table, thinking it will provide you with a distraction, and you will be glad for any partner if only he can move his legs and keep his mouth shut. You go to the end of the line, lost in your thoughts, and when you finally come to a stop and look to the other side — you see Aemond standing in front of you.

The tall prince with his hands clasped behind his back, wearing all black, stares at you in a way that makes the crowd around you disappear.

When the dance starts, you step toward each other, and he speaks up first. 

“I couldn’t help but notice your absence. I find myself wondering what is the reason behind it,” his hand briefly touches yours, your bodies following the music.

“Your question is confusing, my prince. As I was merely doing you a favor,” you swap partners but Aemond only looks at you.

“Your leaving hardly favors me,” the prince says when you’re in his arms again. You feel a flicker of anger rising inside but keep your voice down.

“I was actually counting on you being relieved,” you snort, not looking at him. “Since, as it turned out, you were so displeased with my bawdy dresses,” with these words, you step away from him once more.

A minute later you come back to his side but don’t let him say a thing. 

“I’ve always thought bawdy was just another word for a whore. So I suppose I should be glad that you at least had some decency to not stoop so low,” when your eyes meet, you think you’ve never seen him so hurt.

Before he can come up with an answer, you are out of his reach. Then you circle back to Aemond again, and this time your tone comes out hasher.

“I also wonder if you would be so brave to say all that to my face. But it seems that your bravery falters when confronted with the need to speak plainly.”

The rhythm of the music works in your favor, because whenever Aemond tries opening his mouth, you’re swooped away from him, and it gives you time to tighten your self-control. You think you should resent him for his silly words, for his heavy gaze, for him knowing how to dance even though he never once did that with you in all these years.

But you have no resentment for him. All of a sudden you realize what you are actually feeling.

And then the dance comes to an end.

You only curtsy out of politeness, averting your gaze.

“I will not vex you anymore, my prince.”

“Wait, I should —,” he tries to take your hand but you swerve away from him.

“I already promised the next dance to someone else,” you lie. “You are finally free of my company.”

At that very second, when you glance at him before leaving, he looks absolutely heartbroken. Or maybe you just imagined it in an attempt to ease your own pain. Your feet carry you to the library on their own accord, and you’re too distraught to notice until you are already inside, in the dusty silence of the endless shelves. You take a hold of the nearest one, trying to catch your breath. You barely get a minute of solitude before you hear footsteps approaching. And it’s kind of pathetic how easy it is for you to guess who it is. “Your tendency to run away from me is quite unnerving,” Aemond walks in with rapid strides, his voice laced with emotion you can’t read. 

His words, however, trigger your reaction in no time. 

“Maybe it is because I do not want to be in the company of someone who hurt me,” you turn to him, and he’s already only a couple of feet away. The dim lighting illuminates his silver hair, the outline of his broad shoulders, his eye is boring into you. He looks so beautiful in his frustration, your chest tightens at the sight.

“I would’ve apologized right away if only you let me speak,” the prince retorts.

“Did something hold you back from apologizing sooner? Or were you too preoccupied with being outraged by my clothing choices?” your heart skips a bit at the intensity of his stare but you refuse to break the eye contact.

“I never said I was outraged.” 

“You weren’t thrilled, either, you made that very clear.”

“You know nothing of my motives because you refuse to listen to me!” he raises his voice and it startles you. But he doesn’t sound angry.

Aemond is standing at arm’s length — and you can clearly see that his face expresses no signs of annoyance or hatred. Instead, he looks at you with longing.

The air in the room feels heavy.

You run your tongue over your lips to moisten them, and Aemond’s eye darts to your mouth.

“We can agree on one thing,” he drawls, his eye locking with yours again as he moves closer. You take a step back — and feel pressed against one of the shelves.

He speaks with his tone low:

“...You vex me to no end.”

With another step, Aemond towers over you, and when you look up, your faces are only inches apart, and his flaming gaze envelops you.

“You are the bane of my existence,” Aemond breathes out. “And the object of all my desires,” his voice breaks, and you feel him inhaling sharply.

His words are akin to a match that lights up a fire deep in you, the muscles of your stomach tightening involuntarily. With one finger he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, and you can’t help but lean into his touch, your breathing shuddering.

“I’m haunted by your image everywhere I go,” he rasps, his nose brushing yours. “Night and day, I dream of you,” his index finger moves under your chin, close to the pulsating point on your neck. You feel the heat spilling into the pit of your belly, and you want nothing more than for Aemond to kiss you.

“I was raised to act with honor, but that honor is hanging by a thread every minute I spend in your presence,” he whispers vehemently, his words hot against your mouth. 

You are dizzy, breathless — and craving him. Everything else is forgotten, erased, nonexistent. It’s just you two.

“You are all I can think about,” you confess with a strangled voice, looking at Aemond through your lashes — and it sets him off.

His lips capture yours in an instant, claiming and burning with need. He pulls you closer, his hands on your back, and yours go up his shoulders to lock behind his neck. Aemond kisses you deeply, hungrily, sweeping his tongue over your lower lip and then sliding it in, intertwining with yours. One of his palms moves lower, outlining the curve of your hip, glides over your leg — and into the slit of your dress. He grabs your thigh, his thumb landing on the inner side of it, and he starts slowly massaging small circles on it. Him touching your bare skin elicits a moan from you and in the heat of the moment, as your mind goes blank and you can only focus on the pleasuring sensation, you spread your legs, and his finger slips higher — to the place where you want him the most.

He breaks the kiss in surprise, and you wait for it to dawn on him. To realize that you are, in fact, completely naked under the dress. You can feel arousal pooling between your legs, your body prickling with anticipation.

“I was under the impression that you owe me an apology,” you unabashedly murmur, looking him straight in the eye. 

You don’t know if it’s a challenge or a plea — at this point, you do not care. Apparently, neither does Aemond, as he takes no time hoisting your leg up to his waist for better access, firmly holding it in place. Your respite barely lasts a few seconds before you feel his other hand cupping your sex, rubbing his fingers through your folds. You shut your eyes, gasping for air, as he unhurriedly smears your wetness — and then his finger dips into your core, the sensation making you shiver.

“Aemond,” you sign, your body trembling with desire.

Trying to inhale, you get a whiff of aroma, a mix of leather and salty ocean breeze — and all at once, you are surrounded by him. His scent, his warmth, his scorching touches, the taste that’s left on your lips. He leaks into your every cell.

Aemond nuzzles into the crook of your neck, leaving wet kisses there, his finger picking up the pace.

“I’ve missed you,” he avows. “So fucking much,” he lightly nibbles the skin above your collarbone. “Missed hearing you say my name. Say it again.”

He doesn’t need to ask twice — and the interweaving of letters rolls off your tongue with each breath:

“Aemond”

“Aemond”

“Aemond.”

His name fills your mouth, leaving no space for air, your throat tight and breathing rapid. Aemond’s lips move down to your shoulder.

“Oh, the things I want to do to you,” he haltingly rambles, and the implication makes you clench around him, dragging a low groan from the prince.

He leaves a trail of kisses following the silver chain down to your breasts. The gem feels cold in contrast to your skin, and even though your head is clouded with lust, it triggers a memory. You move one of your shaking hands to his face, guiding it up to look at you again.

“I want to see the real thing,” you whisper, gazing at his eyepatch. “Let me. Please, let me.”

His hand between your legs doesn’t stop its movement but the one on your thigh trembles. You are too caught up in the moment to think straight, and before he can answer, your fingers roughly remove the leather patch.

The sapphire glows like a beacon, the cold blue of it is dazzling and piercing through your blurred vision. The tones and shadows are interlacing, cyan melting into azure and dark blue, and it’s mesmerizing. Seeing him like this, stripped of his restrain and his disguise, is the most intimate, precious thing in the world.

“Gods, you are divine,” you moan, panting.

You catch a flash of emotion in his eye — before you can take another breath, his lips are on yours again. This kiss is steady and fervent, and while his mouth melts into yours, Aemond adds a second finger. It slides in with ease, and he builds up the speed that makes you swallow air. He’s terrifyingly good with his fingers, with his every move, precise and fast. 

“Aemond,” you whimper in his mouth, but his lips keep chasing yours, and you can only follow, letting him take your breath away again and again. You lose track of time, lose yourself in his arms. His face is always close to yours, he breathes in every moan you make and keeps his gaze on you, watching you squirm, your cheeks flushed and lips quivering.

You helplessly whisper his name, and it comes out as a prayer, the coil in your stomach ready to snap. Aemond gives you a breathless smile.

“You do not need to beg me, ever,” he says in a husky voice. “I will give you anything you want,” with these words, he presses a thumb on your pearl, resuming the well-known circling motion, making you choke on air.

It takes merely a few seconds for you to come undone, the wave of pleasure blinding and crushing over you. His lips are at the corner of your mouth, ready to cover it should you make any loud sound, but you drop your head back, mouth falling slack in a silent cry.

His fingers slow the pace until you let out a quiet whine, and he removes them, carefully lowering your leg. You feel fuzzy-headed, trying to catch your breath, a few beads of sweat rolling along your hairline. One of his hands gently falls on your back, rubbing soothing patterns on your skin.

“I truly am sorry,” Aemond admits.

You chuckle lightly. “I think you already made it up to me.”

Despite the hint of humor, there’s an anxious feeling stirring in your abdomen, and you are afraid to open your eyes to meet his. You don’t know what’s to come and you dread the emptiness that will follow if he leaves.

Aemond tenderly cups your face with his hand:

“Mayhaps my intentions were not clear enough. I do plan to properly court you,” your eyes snap open at his words.

There’s a brief pause before he adds. “But I still need to apologize for my behavior because you deserved none of it. I was unfair with my judgment as I let jealousy get the best of me,” he sounds genuinely remorseful.

You glance at him in confusion, the gears turning in your head for a moment, and then you realize.

"You were jealous of Jace?!"

Aemond looks down at the floor, and there’s something endearing in his evident embarrassment. With your thumb and index finger you caress the jut of his jaw and make him look at you again.

“Aemond, I can barely consider him a friend. And the boy can only think about Baela, he speaks of her as if she is the light of his life.”

“I know that feeling," Aemond doesn’t hide his smile anymore when he’s with you. He brings your hand to his lips, and the sincerity of his words tugs at your heart. He leaves kisses on your knuckles, and you’re overwhelmed with happiness spreading in your chest.

“Do you get that feeling every time we argue? Or when I challenge you?” you inquire with a giggle.

His laugh vibrates against your skin. When Aemond meets your gaze, there are no doubts and reservations left, no room for denial.

“My biggest challenge was not to fall in love with you. I failed miserably,” he puts both of his hands on your waist, drawing you closer. “But I will humble myself before you because I cannot stand the thought of us being apart ever again,” Aemond presses his forehead against yours.

“I don’t plan on it,” you trace his scar with your finger, giving him goosebumps. “But you do know there still will be days when we vex each other to no end?” your voice is barely audible.

He moves his mouth to yours and, before bringing your lips together, he whispers:

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And neither would you.

the author doesn’t know how to shut up: — the dress is from “Atonement” (although I imagined her neckline a bit differently); — I haven’t written smut in a very long time so... I hope it was okay? any thoughts and comments will be very appreciated because I’m nervous about this 🥺 (not gonna lie, this was kinda self-indulgent so I hope that at least some of you will enjoy it, too!)

* I know there is an amazing fic called “bane of my existence, object of my desire” by @ jasonsmirrorball — I love it to pieces and highly recommend it! 💕 💚 my masterlist English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!

[prentissluvr]

CONGRATS ON 800 RAAAAAAH THATS MY FRIGGIN GORL!!!!!!!!!!! for ur gift from me to u please take the thought of our beloved boy Sam deciding that you groaning about aches and pains in your legs and back are too irritating and gives you a massage that turns into backshots okay I love u have a good day xoxo yonks anon

THANK YOU BESTIEEEE ARGHHH HEHE <333

omg thanks for a gift wowow you're too cute and sweet heh HAVE A LOVELY DAY <333

MDNI with this post please please please !!!!

hehe at first he's like aweee my poor baby is sore :(( i'll massage it for you :) but omg you're still complaining while he massages you, half moaning how it feels nice and thanking him for being sweet, then groaning about how annoying it is that you're so sore. so he finishes massaging your legs (and totally teases you and tries to get you worked up by being so so handsy with your thighs)

then you're shifting around to lay on your stomach and he flips you over, basically straddling your ass as he massages your back. he pays special attention to your lower back both because he knows that's where you're most sore, but also most sensitive. the feeling of his big, encompassing hands splayed over your lower back is intoxicating. his thumbs, then palms press into the upper flesh of your ass, and he sits back on your upper thighs and his hard cock presses into you <3

and finally, he shifts up onto his knees on either side of your legs, grabs your hips and pulls them up until you're settled onto your own knees. he pushes his hips into your ass and asks, "you want this, baby?" of course you want it, there's a reason you were moaning so unabashedly as he gave you a massage.

so he unzips his jeans, pulls his cock from his boxers, then pulls down your pants and underwear and sinks slowly into you because you're already soaking wet from his big hands pawing at you <3

[doumadono]

I just wanna know why so many adult mha smut creators say they age up minors as if it justifies their attraction to them. Would you say it's okay to age up Eri too?

Ah, aging-up fictional characters, my favorite controversial topic! ♥ You know, I was low-key anticipating an anon to drop this kind of question, sooner nor later (what a pity you didn't have balls to come off-anon tho!). I've had my fair share of childish anons before, and trust me, those went straight into the digital dumpster. But hey, this time, I've decided to lay it all out on the table, crystal clear 🙅‍

You know, I've done it all – murder, rape, summoned demons, even glorified Satan and had several children killed in my stories. But guess what? Not a single pair of handcuffs in sight! 😎 And don't get me started on the horror section at any bookstore - it's like a buffet of dreadful deeds.

Let's be real, the purity police can take a hike. There's something oddly fishy about the fact that fanfic, mostly crafted by awesome writers, gets the brunt of the criticism or some ridiculous accusations, especially the smutty bits, while the gruesome stuff gets a free pass 🤷

Look, folks, it's all about context. Fiction is a realm where creativity knows no bounds, right? So, if I want to age-up a character for a mature storyline, I'll go for it 🤷 Look, it's all a part of the creative process. Fiction is like a playground where we can swing from the monkey bars of imagination, right? Aging-up fictional characters is a common practice in creative communities, and it's important to remember that these characters exist solely within the realm of fiction - they are not real, so it doesn't hurt them in any single way. It allows creators to explore different scenarios and relationships without crossing any ethical boundaries :) Also! Aging-up characters isn't some sneaky scheme to write "inappropriate" content about youngsters. It's about taking characters you adore or find fascinating and giving them a new lease on life. It's like those college AU fanfics for characters in their late 30s or kidfic for full-grown adults. It's all about exploring different phases of their lives. So, whether it's smutty or not, the essence remains the same 😎 You see, the whole "aging-up" thing in fanfic/fanart is just common sense. We're not into the whole "let's sexualize kids" scene, so we gracefully turn our characters into adults. It's all about creating content featuring responsible, grown-up folks. And let's get real, if reading about something meant you were all in on it, then every mystery novel reader out there would have to be either an undercover detective nor a murderer 😎 So let's dial down the judgment and just enjoy our creative freedom, shall we?

But you know, trying to equate aging-up with things like grooming/pedophilia is like saying eating a banana is the same as piloting a spaceship because they're both hands-on activities. Let's keep our perspective here, folks, and not get too carried away with the terminology 😂

If you don’t want to read those stories (containing aged-up characters/dark content/smut with aged-up characters) - then don’t read them - problem solved!

Oh, how times have changed, my friend! Back in the day, I used to let all those comments and anonymous hate bring me down. But guess what? I've evolved, and I've got news for the critics: I write what I want to write, and nobody's gonna tell me otherwise. I've got this little thing called free will, and I'm not about to hand it over to anyone who thinks they can dictate what I should or shouldn't put on paper. If that means ruffling a few feathers, so be it. I've shed my tear-soaked days and embraced the fact that I couldn't care less about those sensitive souls who can't handle a bit of fiction. So, to all you "snowflakes" out there, if you're trying to stifle my creativity, good luck, because I'm just going to crank up the heat and write even smuttier storylines with aged-up characters! Thanks for the encouragement, dear Nonnie – you've only fueled my fire! 🔥😎 I might even consider writing some very dark-themed fic with aged-up Eri, why not! 😈

Oh, hey Anon! Quick question for you. Have you ever picked up a Stephen King book? You know, the master of horror and suspense? Well, if you have, you might've noticed that he doesn't shy away from some pretty explicit content, and not just with adults. Sometimes he writes about kids too, and they're sometimes off legal age as well! Surprise, surprise. You can stroll into a bookstore, grab a book off the shelf, and guess what? There's a good chance that some of those books contain content that would make a sailor blush! Yet, the world isn't collapsing because of it. The point is, even in mainstream literature, you'll find situations that might make you raise an eyebrow. So, let's not throw stones at age-up fiction creators when the literary giants sometimes walk on the same edge, right? 😏

In the conclusion, if you've got a problem with aging-up fictional characters, dear Nonnie, you might want to take a chill pill and remember that it's all just a bit of fun in the end ♥ Well, you know what would truly make my day? If you took the liberty to hit that "block" button with glee and gracefully vanished from my interactions. And if, by some chance, you decide to stick around, don't hold your breath for a response. I'll be too busy conjuring up some fiery, smutty tales featuring Bakugo or Shoto or any other character I like to bother with your, shall we say, less-than-enlightening queries. But hey, chin up, pal – here's a little nugget of wisdom from your "older and wiser" friend: go get a life. It's an absolute game-changer 😜 I'm tagging some content creators who write dark fics or use aged-up characters and might face similar anons/anon hate: @mrskokushibo @ectologia @kyojurismo @bakubunny

[traumagenic-positivity]

my headmate was saying something, and I found it quite funny-

"call it dissociative identity disorder the way I- ...I???"

[jensensitive]

I think EITHER jackles longcon OR if someone asked jensen at a con what he considers the difference is between romantic and platonic feelings without referencing kissing and sex, his prefrontal cortex would start making a high pitched ringing noise and smoke would come out of his ears and then he'd just start listing things that can easily be applied to destiel and then he'd fall over on the ground and be like ○|￣|_ for several minutes

[sysig]

Growing closer than expected (Patreon)

[yappacadaver]

How would zevlor react to his hair being ruffled?

It really depends on who you are to him

[a-s-levynn]

I humbly request a tiny ves with some sunflowers that are too big for him, but he's so happy to have them anyway. 🌻🌻

(take your time of course I just think that'd be adorable, thank you for all your art, it makes me so happy ❤️)

Please excuse our slowness, but he was trying to pick a favourite sunflower, regardless of all of them looking equally lovely ♥

[cxncrie-a]

@hellshoard asked: The doe wasn't new to Heaven. She knew the ins and out of it. She knew who everyone was. So when she ran into Adam, of all angels, she's quick on her feet to back away. Pink fluffy wings fluttered for a moment, tucking against her for tightly, "Quite sorry, good fellow! Seems that my head was up in the clouds today."

Unprompted Asks || Always Accepting.

" Fuck bitch what the fuck. "

   It unfortunately caught him off guard to the point his grip on his cup loosened enough for him to drop it. Well, so much for finishing that drink, and now he's going to have to go get another one. Feathers fluffing up briefly in anger, he mumbles something under his breath before turning to look at Allurina. 

" No shit bitch, you just made me drop my drink. " Classy. " Fuck's your problem anyway, tits? You always got your head up in the clouds that you can't pay attention to where the fuck you're going or some shit? "

[mamawasatesttube]

Do you think Krypto is a big baby about bathtime?

without a doubt. it takes at least two individuals with superstrength to bathe this dog. he WILL shoot off like a very slippery, soapy rocket if he gets the chance. i firmly believe tim agrees to dogsit one time while superfam are offworld but can't take krypto, but then krypto gets into something stinky, and then you get:

the pumby dog wins. obviously.

due to his hubris he does Not give up and phone cassie for help until it's far too late. there's muddy paw prints literally everywhere. his cape is torn in half. his bathroom has a dog-shaped hole in the wall. it's really embarrassing. bart will be immortalizing it in the gc for kon to see the full escapade once he's back in range. krypto, of course, is completely unrepentant and rolling around on tim's carpet to get dry faster. he is still stinky and muddy. he would like a treat for his troubles now, btw, please and thankies <3

[hwa-ae]

Shinyu smut please! Any kind that you’d like

Nervous —

: ̗̀⇢pairings: shinyu x lesserafim member! reader

: ̗̀⇢synopsis: IN WHICH you decide to sneak into his dressing room when he was changing for dance practice recording to calm his nerves, after all, you're a more experienced idol, no?

: ̗̀⇢genre: fluff to smut, nsfw

: ̗̀⇢warnings: nsfw content, pre-established relationship, slightly subby shinyu if you squint, oral (m! receiving), reader swallows cum, minors do not interact (you are responsible for the content you consume)

: ̗̀⇢author's note: im so sorry this took so long to get out! i had so much work and things to do :((

Shinyu ♡

shinyu ♡: baby, im so nervous for the dance practice recording :((

[name] ♡: do u need help? i can come help calm yr nerves!! im nearby yr dance practice room!

shinyu ♡: would u really? please and thank u :D

you turned off your phone after reading the message, making your way to his changing room, where you assumed he would be at. this was the first dance practice recording he would have, and he has been stressing about it for the past week.

knock knock!!

hearing the knock on his door, shinyu got up excitedly, clearly happy to see you again.

"junghwan?" you called out to him after he opened his door, dragging you in immediately.

"i missed you so much, im really nervous for the recording... what if i mess up during the recording and we need to rerecord because of me?" he hugged you tight, mumbling into your neck as he buried his face into it.

"hey, its okay baby... i know you'll do well, im sure you wont mess up. after all, you've been practicing diligently, havent you?" you patted his head gently, caressing it carefully so you dont mess it up before the recording.

"mhm... thank you baby..." he mumbled out again, unintentionally sticking his leg in between yours, rubbing against your cunt unconsciously.

"junghwan... y-your leg..." you tried to warn him, stuttering slightly when his leg shifted after you called his name.

"hm? o-oh! im so sorry i didnt realise!" he immediately jumped out of your grasp, removing his leg from between yours and standing far away from you, embarrassed.

"its okay, its just that... i think i found a way to calm your nerves..." you said suggestively, walking slowly towards shinyu, alike a predator.

"w-what might that be?" shinyu asked nervously, shifting his feet awkwardly.

"you'll see..." you stood right in front of him, rubbing the bulge in his pants as it slowly got bigger as you continued.

"[name]-" he gripped onto your arms, eyes wide open, as he tried to process the pleasure along with everything that was going on.

"let me take care of you, junghwan..." you dragged him to a couch, sitting him down and pulling his pants off.

"is this all for me?" you held onto his cock, holding it next to your face to taunt and tease him as he looked away slightly, face covered in blush as he mumbled a yes.

you licked a long stripe on his cock, before swirling your tongue on his tip, making him let out a muffled moan while holding your hair back in a makeshift ponytail in one hand and covering his mouth with another hand.

"[name] please..." shinyu pleaded, eyes filled with lust as he looked down on you. you slowly took the rest of him in your mouth, bopping your head up and down while teasing that one vein under his cock with your tongue.

you hurried with your movements as he pushed your head down on his cock, not wanting to take up too much time as shinyu needed to go for his recording soon. after all, you could always tease him another time.

"ahh-! [name], gonna cum- gonna cum-! mmph!" he rambled mindlessly, thrusting his hips upwards to mert your mouth as he came down your throat.

shinyu panted breathlessly, watching as you swallow his cum easily, sticking your tongue out at him to show him your empty mouth.

"are you feeling less nervous now?" you rested your arms on his legs, putting your head on top of your arms, leaning on them as you smiled up at shinyu as if you didnt just give him the most mindblowing blowjob of his life.

"mhm... I'll make it up to you at home later, thank you baby." he leaned down, pecking your lips before standing up and fixing his pants.

"shinyu hyung! its time for recording!" you both heard kyungmin calling for shinyu outside, unknowing of what just happened inside.

"I'll see you later, good luck on your recording!" you wished him with a wide grin as he thanked you and waved goodbye at you, leaving the room.

© 2024, hwa-ae ♥︎

do not steal, plagiarise or translate my work on any platforms!