#THE ARM WARMERS?? SIR I CAN DO IT FOR YOU!!

[14dayswithyou]

Y2Slay on da brain!!!!!!!

Reddie can finally be real

Character template from @14dayswithyou

[jo-speaks]

please please please ft. jack hughes

in which...

you're aware of Jack's reputation with girls, but you know he'll be different with you.

track two in short n' sweet (hughes brothers version) series!

I know I have good judgment

I know I have good taste

It's funny and it's ironic

That only I feel that way

I promise 'em that you're different

Your sister stared at your phone, a picture of the one and only Jack Hughes on it. The look on her face was one of confusion and slight disgust. “That’s… your boyfriend?”

“Well don’t get too happy about it.” You answered, pursing your lips together as you turned off your phone. 

She rolled her eyes, “Y/N, he looks like a frat boy who drinks every other hour and fucks a different girl every night.” 

Before you could respond, her phone rang. She excused herself into the living room, leaving you pondering on your queen-sized bed. Your sister was partially right, he did have a reputation for being, for lack of better words, a fuck boy. 

Ever since he got drafted when he was 18, the number of girls that entered his dm’s was despicable. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t respond to them, getting a few relatively censored pictures in return.

But with age comes maturity. Once he met you, he knew he found his person. 

No more DM’s. No more hookups. No more girls. Just you, and only you.

Your sister reentered the room, “Sorry. Mom just wanted to know if I was showing up to meet your boy toy this weekend.”

“I promise you. He’s different.”

And everyone makes mistakes

But just don't

“Do you not trust me? We’ve been over this, babe.” Jack stated, wrapping his arm around your waist as you got into bed with him. 

You looked up at him as you rested your head on his bare chest. “I do trust you. But you have to understand why they’re worried about me dating you, Jack.”

His body tensed up, and his hold on your body loosened. You could feel the gentle rise and fall into his chest speeding into a rapid pace. Family meant everything to Jack and you knew that, so you couldn’t imagine how he felt at the idea of your family not liking him just because of stupid decisions he made in the past. 

“Sorry. Maybe when we all have dinner tomorrow I can clear that up. I want them to like me, Y/N.” He whispered. 

I heard that you're an actor

So act like a stand-up guy

“So. You’re Jack.” Your father said, eyes trailing up and down his figure.

Your boyfriend gulped slightly, trying to keep his composure. “Yes sir. A pleasure to meet you.” He didn’t reply, choosing to stare the boy down instead. 

“Dad.” You warned.

Wanting to break up all the awkwardness, your mother introduced herself, giving Jack a warmer welcome than your father. She took his hand and dragged him into the house, leaving you and your dad standing tensely in the doorway.

“I don’t like him. Who the hell does he think he’s impressing with that ‘yes sir’ crap?” 

You groaned softly, “Dad, I really like him. Can you please just give him a chance? I promise you he’s a really great guy once you get to know him.”

Your dad stared at you blankly, “How many girls do you think he’s gotten to believe that? Your sister came over yesterday to talk to us. Told us all about him.”

“Yeah, well he’s changed. And whether you choose to believe that or not, all I ask is for you to treat him with a little bit of respect. Please.”

He didn’t respond verbally, opting for a simple sigh and nod as he led the two of you into the house.

Whatever devils inside you

Don't let him out tonight

I tell them it's just your culture

And everyone rolls their eyes

Yeah I know

Maybe it was a mistake bringing your parents to the Devils vs. Kings game. You had never seen Jack as rilled up as he was tonight, but you were sitting close enough to the glass to hear his opponent chirping him about his size. Jack had enough of the cheap shots, choosing to slash and rough around a little bit with the bigger man. 

Your mom laughed softly as he got dragged to the penalty box. You looked up, pointing out the camera focused on Jack displayed on the jumbotron. 

“People pay to watch me play!” Jack yelled, his voice slightly audible from the other side of the rink at which you were sitting.

While you and your mom giggled about the comment made by your boyfriend, your dad shook his head. “Real classy.” 

You sighed, “Dad, please. It’s just hockey culture. He didn’t mean it. 

He simply rolled his eyes, “I’m telling you, sweetie. A temper like that doesn’t only exist while he’s playing.” He said, crossing his arms before pulling out his phone to scroll mindlessly on it.

All I'm asking baby

Please please please don't prove em’ right

Jack threw his equipment bag into the trunk of your car, shaking the vehicle slightly as you got into the passenger seat. However, he stopped you before you could buckle in. 

“Can you drive?” He mumbled, “If I get behind the wheel right now, I swear to God, I might crash it.”

You simply nodded, stepping out so he could step in. You walked around the car, seeing Jack inside the car, looking out the window into the dark, night sky. Since you didn’t lack common sense, you decided to stay quiet and let his mind run wild. Handling three straight losses isn’t easy on an athlete, especially if that athlete is Jack Hughes. 

The half-hour drive back to his Hoboken apartment was mostly silent, other than the occasional sniffle from Jack, his body getting used to being warm after almost six hours at the rink. 

After a few more minutes, it grew old. “You okay?”

He scoffed, “Yeah, I’m totally fine after losing, that makes total sense, Y/N.”

“Okay, no. I didn’t do anything to you, so lose the damn attitude because the only thing I’m trying to do is make you feel better.”

“Well maybe use your brain and don’t ask me stupid questions like that when you can clearly see that I’m not.” He retorted, turning his head to look at you.

You furrowed your eyebrows, severely disliking his tone but ultimately too tired to snap back, resorting to a deep sigh and a quiet, “Okay, Jack.” 

Pulling the car into the driveway of his apartment, you waited for him to unbuckle his seatbelt and get out of the car. He didn’t, rather letting out a breath and reaching over to grab your hand. “I’m sorry. You’re right, you didn’t do anything to me and I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

“It’s fine, Jack.” You mumbled, not meeting his gaze. 

He gently cupped your face with his right hand, softly forcing you to look at him, which you reluctantly did. “It’s not fine. You’re my girlfriend and I promise you that will never happen again.”

You nodded, silently thanking him before leaning in to kiss his chapped lips.

Please please please

Don't bring me to tears when I just did my makeup so nice

Heartbreak is one thing

My egos another

I beg you don't embarrass me

Mother fucker ohhh

Please please please

‘Jack Hughes seen with beautiful lady at local Jersey bar. New girlfriend in the NHL superstars’ life?’ 

You read the headline, immediately throwing your phone from your vanity seat onto your bed. The tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over if you blinked. Unfortunately, you weren’t able to hold back the river that began spilling from your eyes. The mascara entering your eyes was a pleasurable burn due to it distracting you from what had caused the situation to unfold in the first place. 

Was he cheating on you? Is this just another gossip site desperate for attention? 

“Woah! Hey, what happened?” Jack called out, snapping you out of your spiral. 

Unable to form words, you just handed him your phone, looking up at him with an expression of hurt and worry.

You watched as his eyes shifted from left to right, reading the article with furrowed eyebrows. When he was done, he let out a sigh and wiped his face then ran the same hand through his hair. 

He set the phone down, squatting down to be on eye level with you. “Baby, I swear it’s not what it looks like.”

“Then what? Because to me, what it looks like is that you were getting nice and cozy with that girl.” You scoffed, trying to turn your chair away from him.

His reflexes were quick enough to stop that, not wanting the conversation to end before he had the chance to explain himself. “Listen to me. Lukey was eyeing her all night. I wanted to be a good big brother and try to set that up. That picture was just taken at a bad time, but I swear to you that’s all it was.” 

“Then why the hell was her hand on your shoulder like that?” You cried out, your sobs breaking your voice. 

“She did that! I took it right off immediately after, I swear. You have to believe me, Y/N. I would never even think about doing that to you.” He pleaded, not wanting everything the two of you had just because of some touchy girl at the bar. 

You tried to calm yourself, wanting to stop the tears but you couldn’t. You believed him, you truly did, but just the idea of him with another woman made you sick to your stomach.

“Okay.” You eventually managed to croak out. “I believe you.”

He pulled you into a tight hug, the mascara running down your cheeks staining his white dress shirt. “I promise I will never, ever, do that to you.”

Well I have a fun idea babe

Maybe just stay inside

I know you're craving some fresh air

But the ceiling fan is so nice

“Do you have to go?” You asked, intertwining your legs with his as you lay on the couch.

He chuckled, “Yes, I do. It’s an event for kids, Y/N. I can’t miss it.” 

“But it’s so nice in here! We’ve got Netflix and A/C. What more could you want?” 

“Fresh air, maybe?” He said with a teasing tone, “I haven’t been out in so long, I need vitamin D.”

You wiggled your eyebrows, “Or vitamin me.” Jack gagged at your joke, pressing himself away from you as you laughed maniacally from your spot on the couch. “I’m definitely going after that awful joke.”

Once you calmed down, you groaned dramatically, tightening your grip on him, “Anything I can do to convince you to stay?”

“Maybe one thing.” He smirked, leaning up to peck at your neck and jawline. “Grow three more heads and a penis and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Not funny, Hughes.”

And we could live so happily

If no one knows that you're with me

I'm just kidding

But really (Kinda)

Really

Really

“Can I post this?” Jack asked, crossing his arm over your waist to show you his phone. 

It was a picture of the two of you sitting on the boat and smiling at each other. A cute photo, truly, but your face was on full display. Jack noticed your questioning stare, leaning up on her elbow so he could see you better. 

“I don’t know, Jack. I’d rather you not.”

“Okay… can I ask why? I think it’s a cute photo.”

You let out a soft breath, “I’ve seen the comments under some of your posts. I just don’t want anyone saying anything about us.”

He nodded slowly, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but why do you care so much? It’s just a bunch of fifteen-year-old girls who think they have a chance with me.” 

You let out a laugh at his comment, “It’s not that I care, I just don’t think I want to put us out there. Not yet, at least.”

“Gotcha. So I can’t post you at all? Or can I do this one?” He showed you his phone again after a few swipes of his thumb, his screen displaying a picture of him Titanic-ing you on the edge of the boat. Your back was to the camera, but he had turned around to look at his brother, giving Ellen the perfect chance to capture his laughter in the image.

Smiling at the picture, you nodded, giving him the okay.

Please please please don't prove I'm right

Please please please

Don't bring me to tears when I just did my makeup so nice

Jack’s rough hands over your eyes weren’t the most pleasurable feeling. He wasn’t paying attention to his subconscious choice to press the pads of his fingers into your eyes, so you were mumbling constant, “Jack.”s the whole way to wherever he was taking you. 

Why he couldn’t have just gotten a blindfold was beyond you.

After a few more steps and the familiar creak of the door, he removed his hands. You blinked a few times, adjusting to the light. Once you did, you saw a bunch of red, pink, and white decorations hanging in the kitchen, a small cake in the middle with little figures of you and Jack on the top of it. 

You gasped softly, taking in the scene. You knew Jack was never one to go above and beyond for silly little holidays like Valentine’s Day. He knew you were a sap for celebrating anything and everything, so he figured you would like it. 

Jack had turned to admire his handiwork, but by the time he turned back to you, tears were streaming down your face as an upside-down smile covered your face. He couldn’t help but laugh at your reaction. 

“You aren’t supposed to cry!” He exclaimed in between short laughs. 

You sniffled, “I know! But how can I not?”

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, bringing you into a tight hug as he swayed you softly, your dramatic cries turning into laughs once you got over the initial shock.

“Thank you, Jack. I love it.” 

He placed a soft kiss atop your head, “Anything for you, sweet girl.”

Heartbreak is one thing

My egos another

Jack stormed into your apartment, startling you from your place on the couch. You had forgotten you gave him a spare key. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You asked, immediately standing up once you saw the look on his face.

His eyes were red, as well as the rest of his face. “Shoulder.” Was the only word he was able to get out before tears of frustration began spilling from his face. 

You had never seen Jack this vulnerable, so you had no idea what to do. You guided him to the couch, gently pulling him into your arms. 

He eventually calmed down, taking a few deep breaths. You didn’t give him the chance to speak before you chirped in. “You wanna tell me what happened?”

“Talked to the PT guy. I’m out for the season.” He explained, his voice trembling. 

You let out a sympathetic sigh, “I’m so sorry, Jack.” 

He shook his head, “No. I should’ve listened to you when you told me to rest it. But my dumbass ego decided to ignore you. And now look what it got me.”

“Hey. This is in no way your fault. Could you have rested? Yes. But, if the trainers didn’t believe you were fine enough you wouldn’t even have had the choice to pick.” You placed your hand on his non-injured shoulder, “You picked your team. You picked the game that you love. You went all the way until it stopped you and that is not your fault.”

Taking a minute to process your words, Jack blinked, his eyes never leaving yours. He opted to not respond, instead just leaned his body into you, wanting to be held. 

“I’ve got you, my love. No matter what you have to do or how long it takes, I’m here for you every step of the way.”

“Thank you.” Was the last thing he mumbled before settling in the warmth of your chest, pushing you back onto the couch so the two of you could sleep.

I beg you don't embarrass me

Mother fucker ohhh

Please please please

“All right. Big impression number two.” Jack joked, trying to ease your nerves. 

He had met your parents. Now it was time for you to meet his grandparents. You had already met Jim and Ellen, but somehow meeting their parents seemed a lot more intimidating.

Jack noticed your eyes trained on the floor, so he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, causing your gaze to shift to him. 

“They’ll love you. I’ve told them how helpful you’ve been throughout this whole thing and they said they can’t wait to meet you. Just relax.” He explained, his words calming you just a bit. 

One knock from the door was all it took before Ellen opened the door, immediately pulling you in for a hug. “Hi! How are you?”

You laughed at her joyful reaction, “I’m doing great, you?”

She let out a sigh, “Jim’s mother is driving me nuts. I swear, you can’t cook one meal without that woman getting involved. I love her but, jeez.” She turned her attention to her second son, “How are you, Jack? How’s the shoulder?”

“It’s getting there. As for your Nana problem, I’m sure Y/N could be a good mediator,” Jack suggested, sending you a wink as you turned to look back at him with wide eyes.

Ellen gasped, “Oh you’re right! Would you mind, Y/N?” 

You hesitated, “Um. Sure, why not?”

Jack’s mom pulled you by the hand into the kitchen, Jack’s laughter fading behind you as he stepped into the warmth of the house, shutting the door behind him.

If you wanna go and be stupid

Don't do it in front of me

If you don't wanna cry to my music

Don't make me hate you prolifically

Please x9

“Goddamn it, Jack.” You mumbled to yourself, seeing his sling on the kitchen bar with a sticky note with ‘sorry! <3” on it in rushed handwriting. 

He had told you he was just going to go watch his Dad and brothers golf but had a change of plans. You sighed and pulled out your phone, taking a picture of the scene in front of you and sending it to Jack.

y/n 

Seriously?

jack

Whoops

You let out a grumble at his response, grabbing the sling and the keys to the golf cart before driving up to the country club. 

After a few circles around the holes, you spotted Jack and his family. You stepped on the pedal, rushing to get up before Jack had a go. 

“Alright, Jacky. Your go.” Quinn stated, sitting in the golf cart, ready to observe his brother’s swing. 

Unfortunately for Jack, you were faster. “Jack Rowden Hughes!”

The Hughes’ men’s eyes widened at the sound of your voice, especially Jack’s. They all turned around to look at you, a look in your eyes that could only be described as crazy. 

You stomped over to Jack, ignoring the rest of the guys. You shoved the sling into his chest, crossing your arms immediately after. 

“Jack, you can’t be golfing right now! The doctor said you have two more weeks with that thing!” You exclaimed. 

Quinn spoke up, “Two weeks? Rowdy, you told us your doctor cleared you.”

Jack let out a sigh as his cover had been blown, “Just wanted to golf.” He mumbled. 

You scoffed, “I’ve worked my ass off for you and this is what you do? I’ve taken care of your meds, when you’re supposed to take them, washing that thing for you because you couldn’t. Doing all the work around your house so that you wouldn’t have to and Luke could focus on finishing his rookie year, and this is what you do?” 

Everyone was silent as you scolded Jack, knowing fully well you were right. You had picked up the slack around his and Luke’s shared apartment throughout his recovery, and the fact that he wanted to disregard all of that for a game of golf was disrespectful. 

“I know. I’m sorry.” He took a deep breath, “I just wanted to get out here before summer’s over and Quinn leaves for Vancouver and Luke and I for Jersey. All I wanted was a normal summer, leave my injury at the door, you know?”

You gave him a soft smile, “I get that, but Jack. You’re almost at the point where you can do all of this, without having to worry about anything else. You’ve worked so hard and sacrificed so many things for this, don’t throw it away for something you can do in two weeks.”

“She’s right, son.” Jim spoke, “We know you love golfing, but you love hockey just as much. Don’t ruin the progress you’ve made, all right?”

Jack nodded, “Yeah. Thanks, Dad.” He shifted his attention back to you. “Thank you, Y/N. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Probably light yourself on fire.” Luke chirped, gaining a laugh from all of you.

You pulled Jack into a hug, taking his hand and guiding him to sit next to his brother.

[jaesnympho]

warnings: roomate!hee, heeseung forces reader to watch herself in the mirror, fingering, size kink, shy yn, sir & daddy kink, squirting, praise & degradation, pussy slapping, dacryphilia

💌: first post hehe

heeseung, your roomate, walked through the door of your guys shared apartment and immediately bursted into your room with no announcement, causing you to jump and mess up your eyeliner.

"what the fuck heeseung!" you yelled, leaning closer to your mirror and looking at how there was now a hug line of eyeliner across your eye that led to your side burns.

"oh shit, i'm sorry." he said with a grin on his face, laughing at how silly you looked right now.

"it's not funny," you said angrily.

he came to stand behind you and started to play with little strands of your hair, to which you didnt mind, because this behavior was normal.

"you know you're really pretty, right yn?" he asked, crouching down behind you.

a warm feeling suddenly took over your body and you got a bit nervous, "mhm.. thank you, hee." you said quietly.

he finally sat down behind you, your back falling against his chest.

"are you about to leave to go somewhere?" he asked curiously.

"no," you said back, earning a small smile from him, to which he mumbled a small 'perfect' under his breath that you could barely hear.

a few seconds passed by before he grabbed your jaw and made you turn your head to look up at him, "can i touch you?" he whispered, his breath fanning over your face.

before you could let the shock sink in, you nodded, but he wasn't satisfied with your answer.

"use your words little girl." he said firmly.

"y.. yes sir, you can touch me." you whispered.

"that's my girl." he said before turning your jaw back to face yourself in the mirror, "don't take your eyes off yourself."

his hands started slowly caressing your plush thighs, squeezing at them softly. you let out a small gasp, barely audible, but he heard it.

his fingers itched closer and closer to your inner thighs, your heart rate getting faster and faster, and your body growing warmer.

"h-hee.. please.." you whispered, your needy voice making heeseung let out a soft moan of his own, his pants getting tighter by the second.

"please what baby?" he teased.

"please, please touch me daddy." you begged, squirming in front of him.

he smiled at the fact that you called him daddy; he was definitely gonna embarrass you for that later. "good girl, you'll get what you want now."

his hands spread your thighs farther apart, his fingers running over the smooth fabric of your panties, earning a small, needy moan from you.

your wet panties stuck to you like a pair of leather pants, your wetness spreading all over the fabric the more heeseung kept rubbing your clit through the thin fabric.

more moans erupted from your throat and you grabbed heeseungs arms.

"you're already a moaning mess and i haven't even put a finger in yet? cute." he chuckled.

"n-no, hee, please, i need it, need you." you begged, desperately grabbing at his arms in attempt to get him to do anything, just anything to satisfy your needs.

"alright alright, i won't tease you any longer, you've been a good girl, i think you deserve it." he smiled at you through the mirror, and you nodded eagerly.

he moved your skirt completely out of the way and pulled your panties down your legs, putting them in his pocket, he didn't plan on giving them back.

his fingers went back to your clit, slowly rubbing it, applying just the right amount of pressure to have you whimpering and whining all over his lap.

he finally let a finger sink into your tight, warm little hole and almost moaned at the feeling of you clenching around his digit. you on the other hand, threw your head back into his shoulder, moaning his name over and over again.

"keep your fucking eyes on the mirror bitch." he said and slapped your pussy twice, earning a loud cry from you, the pain quickly turning into pleasure.

your head turned back to face the mirror and you looked at your face; your makeup would surely be ruined by the end of this.

your slick was leaking out from your hole onto the floor, to which heeseung found it so so so cute that you got so wet from him degrading you, he never knew you got off on being called a bitch.

suddenly his fingers jammed into your hole, fastly pumping them inside you as he watched how your legs started to shake from the overwhelming amount of pleasure that hes giving you with just his fingers, which makes him wonder how you'd react with his dick buried so deep inside you his tip touched your cervix.

"mmph, daddy!" you moaned loudly, your cries echoing throughout the apartment.

"yeah, take it like the filthy little slut you fucking are." he said harshly, watching as your chest heaved up and down.

his other hand reached up to unbutton your sweater, letting your titties pop out of the fabric from the lack of a bra.

he started to fondle with your titties, listening as your moans got louder and louder until you started letting out silent moans, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and all you could hear was the sound of heeseungs fingers pumping in and out of your tiny, wet hole.

"i know baby i know, daddy makes you feel so good, doesnt he?" he whispered, smiling at you through the mirror.

"so good hee, please d-dont stop!" you whined, tears streaming down your face by this point.

his fingers reached places you never knew existed within you. you couldnt go this deep with your own fingers, so this was like a whole new world for you.

your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your toes curled, clenching around his digits as they kept jamming into you, crying out his name.

heeseung could tell you were gonna cum soon. he could tell by how tight you were clenching around him that this wasnt gonna be a normal orgasm either.

your moans went silent and your body jerked backwards towards heeseungs chest. suddenly all you knew was your mirror was drenched.

you had squirted. all over your fucking mirror.

heeseung was in shock, as well as awe. he had never made a girl squirt before, let alone his roomate that he secretly adored.

your face felt warm, and you just knew he would make fun of you for this later.

"i didnt take you for a squirter.." he said and let out a small laugh.

"oh shut up! ive never done that before!" you defended, crossing your arms in defeat.

"its okay, it was cute." he giggled, smiling at you.

you rolled your eyes and pulled your skirt back down, embarrassed of your current appearance; your makeup was now fucked up, your hair was frizzy, your panties were missing, and-

"oh, look at that, your eyeliner got messed up anyway." heeseung said. and with that he got up, letting out a chuckle as he left your room, leaving you a fuming mess that hoped this would somehow happen again.

[la-undercover-latina]

Or how would the boys react to their so being h word cuz of concert content 🫠

A/N: So I'm doing the guys one at a time. I hate myself so I'm going to eventually do all of them

First up, Song Mingi

I went a little overboard on this whoops

Read to Filth

Summary: After Mingi gets back from tour, he reads you like an open book

Warning: Smut ahead. so MDNI under the cut.

“You’re a damn menace you know that?” You walked up to your boyfriend who was just getting out of the shower, only a towel wrapped around his slim waist.

“For what? Showering without you?” he asked with a tilt of his head.

“No. When you guys were in America on tour. Those poor Atiny. All of you turn into whores when you breath American air, you most of all,”

A smirk fell over Mingi’s lips at the realization.

“My my, was my little princess watching the fancams of me?” His smirk deepened as your face involuntarily heated up to tomato red. 

You were busted.

“Not like there’s not enough content,”

“You know I do that for you right? I know what you do while I’m on tour. You sit here looking all dolled up and just keep scrolling Instagram waiting for the fancams to come in. Am I getting warmer?” Mingi had been slowly stalking towards you like a predator circling his prey. 

When you hit the wall with your back, a little yelp escaped your throat as he continued his steps until you could feel the body heat leaving him. 

You had to gulp as you realize that he completely abandoned the towel somewhere in hunting you.

“Nope, not at all,” you had to look away from him. He knew you too well to know when you were lying.

“You sure about that? Because you can’t look me in the eye right now,” he moved a few loose pieces of hair behind your ear, making you gulp. His voice pitching lower.

“No, I think I’m exactly right. I think you pull out your toys and think of me,” He leaned in to smell your neck, placing feather light kisses until he felt you shiver.

“Prove me wrong Princess. Let me see your Instagram,” he knew he won.

Now he was just toying with you. 

“And if I don’t,” you breathed heavily at your naked boyfriend’s proximity. After his tour in America, you’d become less immune to his intoxicating effects.

“What do you have to hide Princess?” He asked before bringing his lips to your earlobe.

“What kind of dirty things do you have on there?” He growled lowly.

“The girlfriends sent me a bunch of stuff,” you admitted.

“Oh, so that’s it. You don’t want to be punished for looking at my friends,” he grasped your chin in one hand.

“You’re mine,” he growled before crashing his lips onto yours, your arm instinctively wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

“Or do I need to remind you?” He asked, the warm brown of his eyes swallowed by lust, the proof poking you on your lower stomach.

“Yes Sir,” you answered his lust with your own. Seeing his dominance did something to you, and he knew it.

“Get on your knees,” he told you, pushing you down to your knees with his large hands.

You slowly got to your knees, trying your best to rile up your boyfriend, and from the impatient look on his face, you were succeeding.

Once you were kneeled in front of him, you wasted no time, bringing him into your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks while your hands roamed his stomach and chest, a moan ripping its way from Mingi’s mouth as he leaned his head back in pleasure. After so long on tour, you felt like home to him.

It was worth the time away for the ability to treat you like a Queen. Whatever you want when he’s away, purchased with next day air.

He just wished he could bring you with him.

But that’s a discussion for later. Now, he needed to make you pay for looking at his friends.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair, making a makeshift ponytail, urging you to take him deeper down your throat. Tears pricked your eyes as you had to adjust your breathing to accommodate Mingi’s length.

“You can take it,” he gasped as you adjusted your head angle, bottoming out on him.

“F-fuck! Just like that princess,” he spoke in labored breaths.

You released Mingi from your mouth, a small pop sound heard when you finally let him go.

“You gotta breathe baby girl. Breath through your nose,” he told you breathlessly, a euphoric smile on his face.

“Yes sir,” you took another moment to get your breathing under control before kissing the head of his cock, licking the underside to drive him insane. He leaned his head back, a whimper leaving his lips. 

“Do you like that Sir?” You asked, looking up at him from your lashes.

“Yeah, now get back to work,” With that, you took over where you left off, angling your head to the side and taking him to the back of your throat until you gagged.

“That’s right princess, you only gag on my cock, nobody else,” he grunted, thrusting into your mouth until his thrusts became less coordinated and more messy. 

He was close.

“G-good girl,” he purred before he exploded down your throat, and you swallowed every last drop even though it tasted like thick saltwater.

“Did you miss me?” He asked.

“Of course baby,” you answered before he gently helped you up to your feet.

Taglist: @multidreams-and-desires @the-princess-of-mischief-1998

Read the others' here: Hongjoong Seonghwa

[im-yn-suckers]

riki bf habits?

yes yes

teases abt ur height bc bro is shaq

so we know that hes a personn who loves to play with hair and loves to have his hair played with but did you know he loves washing ur hair and having his hair washed

his prescence is extremely calming and he can say the same about you

has cute nicknames for the plushies you guys adopted and call your children

'i saw this at the mall with jake and i thought it was cute like u!!' IMAGINE WIHT A BIG SMILE

'babe what do you wanna do?' 'idk alsong as im wit u' :(

ALWAYS makes sure u eat bc why would u starve ur bootiful body 'baby!! i ate today!!!' 'really?? Im so proud of you princess!!'

remembers everything abt u. u met three years ago and brought up u like the scent of vanilla?? three years laterbuys you a vanilla scented perfume

THE PETNAMES WUTH THIS MAN "angel, can u pass the salt?" ''princess can you hand me my phone'' ''cutie do u have lip balm'' ''baby/babe what time is it'' now the following only come out when hes sleepy or when no one else is around; ''love stay here its still early'' ''no, my love, we cant make cake right now' 'but its cake and no ones here to stop us' 'ITS THREE AM'

sends u texts w memes that say shit ilke 'this apple is yellow, if u see pink i fine asf mami' to annoy you

grabs ur waist. his arms are a belt. his personal hand warmer. sticks his hand underur shirt 4 shore!

has a soft spot for u and only u

imaginecuddling w the human koala and he whispers 'kiss me loser' wtv u say gorgeous

sends u reels and tiktoks of spiderman and hellokitty saying us

TV GIRL BRACELETS ARGUE W THE WALL

has matvhing promise rings for sure

unlike some ppl, i think hes def the type to write little notes for u

'shut up riki' 'make me bitch' sassy sassy sassy sassy sassy sassy

(over text) y/n; babe can u bring me wayer on ur wayback from taking shit pls?? riki; WAYER 🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩 riki; sure angel

ur doing ur work likr a responsible student (manifesting) and 'TALK TO MEEEEEE' 'im studying love' 'idc kiss me l/n y/n'

'cmere pretty girl' while checking u out. laening againsgt the counter trying to distract you from baking

BACKHUGS AND NECK KISSES STFU

'babe' 'hm?' you stare at your phone, not lookint at him 'look at me' you look 'good girl' SIR SIR SIR IM NOT UR STRONGEST SOLDIER

buys u wtv u want bc y shld u suffer w/o 3+ prada bags, a matchcing bulgari serpenti bracelt and ring, dior and chanel makeup etc.

loves u to the end of the world.

[king-of-the-underworld-hades]

Can you please do a Wednesday Addams & Enid Sinclair x Male Reader imagine? Where Reader is from a popular family of hybrids and tribrids, where Reader is a Vampire, a Witch and a Shapeshifter. And the three of them became roommates temporarily because there were no more available rooms for him in the boys' dormitory.

Tri-problem (Male)

Art by TanyaF2022 on X/Twitter.

You sigh as you feel the bumps of the road as the family chauffeur, Jack drives you to Nevermore Academy. You pull out your phone and start swiping on Instagram to see all your "friends" stories and whatnot. Rolling your eyes you start to block them all one by one. "Are you okay young sir?" Jack asks as he looks at you in the rearview mirror. "I told you to call me Y/N," you said annoyed. "But if you must know I'm just annoyed. Why am I being punished for something that my parents agree was the right action?" "Well, I doubt the school board was happy to hear you almost ended the life of your classmate," Jack said causing you to roll your eyes. "Please. No one would've missed him. He deserved it. He assaulted Normies to feed his ego. There is no excuse for that." "Yes, but you decided to, hex him, suck out almost two liters of his blood, and shapeshifted into a silverback gorilla to break both his arms," Jack said flatly. "And?" You said as if it wasn't a big deal. Jack just sighed.

"Well Mister L/N your father had informed me of your... predicament," Larissa Weems, the principal of Nevermore said as you sat across from her. "We have had your uniform custom made as your family requested but... I- uh..." she stumbled over her words causing you to raise an eyebrow. "We have no space in the boy's dormitory... and well... since you have no family in Jericho... I'm afraid you'll have to stay in the girls dormitory..." "You gotta be kidding me..."

She was indeed not kidding... here you were... standing in front of a dorm in Ophelia Hall... "Fuck my life..." You sigh and knock. Not like you had a choice all your stuff was there... "Enid. The door," you heard a flat cold muffled voice on the other side of the door "Coming~" you heard a second, sweeter warmer muffled voice. Soon the door was opened. "Hello...~ oh- I don't think I know you... have I seen around?" The girl asked her wide smile which showed off her sharp canines never faltering. She was about 5'2, had fair skin, rosy cheeks, pale blue eyes, blond hair with pink and blue tips, a pink sweater with white and maroon diamonds, a maroon skirt, and white thigh-high socks. You see that inside the dorm another girl was sitting at a desk writing in a typewriter. She had pale skin, black hair that was tied into two even braids, anthracite eyes, and a blank yet focused expression. She wore a pair of black boots, black jeans that went over the boots, a black shirt with white stripes that were slightly above her belly button, a black shirt with Ghostface on it that was the same length as the undershirt, a black vest, and a pair of black fingerless gloves. Before you were able to answer the blond girl's question, the ravenette turned and looked at you, her cold piercing gaze locked with your gaze as she spoke. "Y/N L/N. Correct?" Her voice was cold and monotone. "...Y-Yeah..." You mumble as the blonde's expression lit up. "You're our new roomie!" She exclaimed grabbing your hand and pulling you inside. Now inside you, we're able to see the room clearer. It was split in half, the spider web window was only halfway filled with color on, what you assume is the blonde's side, the other side had no color and was just normal glass with no tint. The blonde's side of the room was very colorful. Her bed frame was white and her blanket was splattered with multiple colors, her bed was on top of a puzzle-like rug with each piece being colored differently, ribbons were hanging from the ceiling, and a desk littered with notebooks, markers, pens, etc. A bean bag chair, posters, and so much more. The ravenette's side was the complete opposite. There was a lamp, a black cello, a black sheet music stand, a desk with a black typewriter, a black bed, and a black leather chair. All your stuff was neatly set in a corner of the room. The blonde let go of her hand as she looked at you her grin somehow wider. "My name is Enid Sinclair! I'm a Fur, AKA a werewolf! Nice to meet you roomie!" Enid said excitingly as she went to the ravenette and grabbed her cheeks making her look at you. "This is Wednesday Addams! She may look gloomy but she's a softie!" Enid exclaimed before Wednesday leaned away scowling. "...Nice to meet two..." You mumbled. "So~," Enid said as she leaned closer to you so close you could feel her breath on your face. "What are you? Fur, Scales, Fangs, Psychic, or something else?" She asked curiously. "Personal space Enid," Wednesday reprimanded her from her chair causing Enid to lean back pouting muttering "I was just asking..." under her breath. "I'm a tribrid... I'm part Vampire, Witch, and Shapeshifter," You explained as Wednesday stood from her typewriter. "Your family is known for that are they not?" Wednesday asked rhetorical. "Your family is known for giving birth to Hybrids and Tribrids," She said monotone with her cold expression. "Yeah... they are," you said as Wednesday nodded. "Weems had informed us of your... incident. Try to behave yourself," Wednesday said as she headed for the door. "Unpack and try not to make a mess of things," she said before leaving. "She always like that?" You ask. "Pretty much," replies Enid.

As the next two weeks passed you got accustomed to living with the two. You found out that Enid would try and snoop when you were on your phone or laptop to find something to put on her blog. When you caught her she blushed and turned away but after that day she would randomly ask to things, favorite color, would you rathers, song taste, etc. You got used to "Addams schedule," as Enid calls it. Basically when she did her writing when she wanted to be left alone, when she would leave for coffee, etc.

As time went on Wednesday had admitted she got used to your presence and even let you watch her write. Yoko, a fellow vampire and friend of Enid said that most Vamipres have a calming presence around them. Ironic. So since Wednesday hadn't really spent a prolonged time near vampires she was getting a heavy dose of it.

Enid on the other hand would paint your nails, do your hair, take you on friend dates, etc. You would talk to her about werewolf stuff, since you had cousins who were part werewolf you could relate in some aspects. After five months of living with the roommates, Weems came to visit.

"Hello girls, and Mr. L/N." "Yo," you did a two-finger salute from Enid's bed, your head in her lap as she dyed the tips of your hair. "I have news, one of the boys has moved out of his dorm as his parents found a suitable house in Jericho, so that means that Mr. L/N here will finally be moving to the boys' dorm. Fun!" Weems said with a smile but Enid stood up causing your head to fall onto the mattress. "What!? B-but he can't- I mean-," Enid stammered but Wednesday spoke I'm her usual monotone and cold tone. "What Enid is trying to say is we don't wish for Y/N's leave. He's been here for six months now. We have grown attached. So much so," Wednesday said as she stood from her desk and walked over to you, who had sat up. She cupped your face, causing you to raise an eyebrow, she then leaned down and kissed you softly. Her hands were cold to the touch. Her lips were soft and plush and tasted like coffee. Wednesday soon pulled away and looked at Weems. "We've started a polygamous relationship," She said as she looked at Enid who was blushing. Enid quickly walked over to you and kissed you as well. She was nervous, unlike Wednesday. Her lips were warm and soft. They also tasted like milk tea. Weems blinked a few times at this action. "W-well... this certainly complicated things..." she said as she looked at you. "I will... talk to your mother... see what she says about this...," She spoke before leaving. You were flustered and confused. The room was silent for a few seconds before Wednesday spoke. "I have him Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. We share Sunday." "T-that works..." Enid mumbled. "The fuck just happened?" You ask as Wednesday rolls her eyes. "You just got two girlfriends."

[stairain]

Bad Idea.

You see your Professor talking to one of his co-workers, prompting insecurities about him belonging with someone his age.  

NSFW part 2

NSFW part 3

Warnings: Angst. Professor/Student relationship, 10+ year age gap (No defined ages, but reader is over 20, Spencer is under 40), suggested manipulation, strong power play/dynamic. There will be an 18+ part 2.

WC: 1.7K

You’re pacing around his living room, anxiousness coursing through your veins. You had caught him talking to one of his female co-workers, and couldn’t help but spiral. 

“Maybe this was a bad idea, Spencer.”

Your professor watches your frantic movements as he stands still across the room from you. His eyebrow raises and he moves his hands into his pocket. 

"Do you want to talk about it?” He calmly said. 

Curse him for always being mature about things when you were nothing but an irrational impulsive mess, and maybe that was a clear sign of a red flag, one that you were no doubt going to ignore, along with the rest of them.

“You deserve someone your age, you deserve someone you don’t have to hide.. to keep a secret.”

The tears brimming your eyes finally fall, cascading down your cheeks as they burn your skin. Spencer is quiet for a long moment, as you cry. And then he walks over to you and pulls you into his arms, and he holds you close, as though he wants to comfort you.

His voice grows a slight bit solemn, and his face grows some sadness, but, somehow, he manages to smile a little bit. 

"You're... you're right," he says softly, and while his voice is serious, he manages to give you a little soft smile as he does so. "Maybe I do." he adds, still softly, as a single tear falls down his cheek.

You push him away from you, raising your voice. Even though you were the one to suggest it, hearing him agree with you, it hurt more than you expected.

“I-Is that what you want..? Someone older than me, more mature than me, better than me.. Someone you can actually be seen with..” 

Spencer shakes his head slowly. His heart breaks to see you so hurt. But, somehow, he manages to give you the softest little smile. He pulls you a little bit closer and runs a strong hand through your hair, to hopefully calm you down.

“Come on, angel. You’re getting yourself worked up over nothing. And no.. No, it's not what I want. You're everything I want.." 

You allow him to comfort you, you really wanted nothing more than to scream at him, pound your fists against his chest, and lock yourself in his room. And yet, here you were, allowing him to hold you, to protect you.  

"You don't mind that I'm your student.. and we're dating? You don’t find it weird..?"

"Why would I ever mind?" 

He speaks softly as he looks down at you in his arms, right in your teary eyes. His heart beats a little bit harder, his breath grows warmer, it's clear he's being genuine with you. You free yourself from his hold and sit down on his couch, and he immediately follows you. He stands in front of you, looming over your small figure. 

"As your Professor... I'm here to support you. And I'm only human, just like you. I just happen to have a job that's a bit of a.. conflict of interest. But I always aim to see all of my students succeed, and what better way to support you, to help you succeed, than to be here for you?"

Spencer reaches out a hand to rest on your shoulder, his thumb rubs over the soft fabric of your shirt as he looks down at you.

"I-I guess you're right, Sir. I just don't want your life and career to be ruined because of us.”.

Your professor sighs before kneeling down in front of you on the couch, to look you directly in the eyes now that he was down at your level. He reaches out to you and holds your chin in his fingers.

"Look at me, princess..." he whispers, "I'm an adult. I have a PhD, a very successful career, all that... and I know what I'm doing. I'm not going to let anyone or anything, including my job, or anyone else, ruin what we'd built between us..."

The sincerity in his tone practically forces you to believe him, you felt you had no other choice at this point, you were in far too deep. You nod as he spoke, clinging on to every syllable, he really did have a way with his words. 

"There's nothing that could ever ruin that, okay?" he adds, softly... "Our love is too precious for anyone to hurt..”

"I-I don't know, Sir. I know this..”—You point between the two of you —“What we have, it's not normal. But I love you.. I'm  just terrified someone will somehow find out, then you'll lose your job, and it'll be my fault." 

You bury your face in your hands as your cries wrack through your body. Spencer sighs and bites his lip as he tries to find the right words, ones that may not be true, but at least they’ll comfort you for the time being. 

"I understand," he says softly. "That's a very valid concern and we'll.. we’ll have to figure out a way to deal with that. But even if someone were to find out, I'd be willing to lose this job if it meant I could keep you in my life. If I'm being honest, angel, there's nothing that could ever be worth as much as you, and if this is what you want, then... then I'm willing to do whatever it takes."

He pulls your hands away from your face, he takes both of your hands in one of his, and his free hand reaches up to wipe at your tear stained cheeks. 

"Can you understand that? Can you understand how much you mean to me?"

You can’t help but scoff at his words and throw your hands in the air, looking away from him. It was almost laughable how unserious he was about his entire future, just because of you. 

"Sir- I..I'm not worth losing your job, listen to yourself!"

Spencer furrows his brows and forcefully grabs your hands back in his. He never did like it when you didn’t look at him while he spoke to you. 

"That's for me to decide, isn't it?" He asks sternly as he looks at you.  

"If I say you're worth losing my job for because you're what makes me the happiest, and you're what makes me better... then aren't I the one who has the final say? I'm here to guide you, and to protect you... and what that means for me is that I'm willing to sacrifice everything, as long as you're in my life. I'm not going to let anything, anything ever tear us apart… Understood?"

You keep quiet as he mentions how everything is up for him to decide, you know he's right, and there's nothing you can say to convince him. Your eyes avert his gaze and favor looking at the way his large hand encompasses both of your smaller ones. 

"But I'm just another one of your students, Professor. I just don't think losing your job would be worth it.. Plus, what happens when the news gets to this? You'll lose your job at the FBI too.”

Spencer’s hand bumps your chin up gently, making him look at you as he speaks softly. 

"You're not just another student to me. You're not just some random face I see in class... you're someone I truly care for, someone that makes me feel very very happy." Spencer adds truthfully, and his tone grows more sincere as he continues to attempt to comfort you.

"And as I said, I would be willing to risk my job, if it meant being with you. But we don't have to make that choice, do we? We can keep it quiet, as long as we're careful, I can make sure no one ever finds out." 

You sniff and look up at him through your teary lashes. He pushes a fallen lock of hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. 

"How are you going to make sure no one ever finds out, Sir?"

"By being careful, and taking our time," he explains. "But also by being smart.. by paying close attention to any signs that anyone is suspicious. And that means you'll need to learn how to be careful too.. how to be cautious" he adds. "We will keep it between us, my girl."

Spencer sits down on the couch next to you, and effortlessly lifts you onto his lap, quickly curling you up against his chest. 

"This will be our little secret, and as long as we're careful.. we can make sure no one will ever know.” 

You nod at his words and suggestions.

"I'll make sure to be careful, sir.”

He smiles down at you and coos in your ear. 

“There we go.. You’re so smart, darling.” 

His fingers run through your hair, and despite the comfort, there’s a pit in your stomach at his words. You don’t acknowledge it, why would you.

“You need to make sure you don't treat me any differently in class, Sir. You already know how much everyone in that class loves you.. If they noticed you were giving me special treatment, I’d never hear the end of it.. Wouldn't want anyone knowing I'm a teacher's pet."

You smirk as you tease him, knowing fully that’s exactly what you are. Spencer chuckles, as he nods again. 

"Of course. We'll have to act normal, and we'll have to pretend.. to be just a professor and a student at work. But outside of work.." he adds, before his smile grows a little bit wider. "That's a whole different story.." he adds, his tone a little bit lower. 

"Yeah? What are we outside of work, Professor?"

You bite your lip as you look up at him with innocent eyes.

"Outside of work.." He smiles again, as his eyes darkening with a twinge of lust. "Outside of work, we don't have to pretend anymore. We can just be ourselves all the time." 

With nothing but what you believe is love in his eyes, he cradles the back of your head in his palm to look up at him better. He looks down at you in adoration, and his gaze flickers from your eyes to your lips. 

"And.. outside of work, I get to be yours. All yours, my perfect girl." 

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Jazzercise!: Hazbin Hotel

Buckle up, Buttercups! This one's long.

Charlie: (wearing a pair of pink leggings, rainbow sneakers, white exercise t-shirt, and a red sweatband around her head) Alright, Everyone! Today, we're going to be doing some team bonding exercises throoooough- Da-Dada-Daaaaaah! -Exercise!!!

Hazbins: (all groan in dismay and grumble and clamor in annoyance)

Angel: (wearing powder pink leg warmers and neon green leotard that looks like it came out of an 80s) Is there any way we can sit this out? Some of us are hungover.

Vaggie: (wearing a black and purple sports bra and black spandex shorts that cut off halfway down her thighs, hair tied up in a ponytail) Still? We celebrated the hotel's grand reopening last week.

Husker: (wearing your stereotypical gym teacher windbreaker pants but no shirt or jacket) The empty liquor wall at the bar will verify.

Lucifer: (magically appears wearing a pair of bright red, men's booty workout shorts from the 70s, white Dad sneakers with tall red socks, and a white and red sleeveless shirt tucked into the shorts) Well, I'm all for a little sweat and hard work! Whatcha got for us, kiddo?!

Charlie: Dad! (Averts her eyes) What are you wearing?!

Lucifer: What?! I wore this in my college days!

Angel: Oooooh! While I'm not complaining there, Short King, I don't think Charlie appreciates seeing the "King's Apple" lodged in your shorts.

Lucifer: Huh? (Looks down at the natural, indiscreet bulge in his shorts) ........But these shorts cup the boys so nicely.

Charlie: (about to puke like when she watched Angel's best porno during show and tell)

Vaggie: Babe, let's just focus on getting the workout done. Alright?

Charlie: OoOookay.... Um... Do you mind taking over? I actually have no idea what I'm doing.

Vaggie: (sparkle in her eye) Sure thing, babe. (Turns to the rest and squares her shoulders) Alright, we are going to start with two easy laps around the track followed by partner bear crawls for two hundred meters, thirty burpies, and ending with twenty inverted push-ups! Any questions?

Hazbins: (awkwardly glance at each other)

Niffty: (wearing a 50s style one piece workout suit) YAY!!! PAIN!!!

Vaggie: THEN MOVE!!!

-One Hour Later-

Hazbins: (moaning and groaning in agony as they lay defeated on the track)

Angel: (rolled out like a spider that got run over) Charlie..... Toots.....

Charlie: (gasping for breath as she falls to her knees and holds herself up on shaking arms) Yeah.... Angel?

Angel: (Looks over to Vaggie who is on her third iteration of bear crawls and using an equally dead Lucifer for weight) If this psychopathic bitch of a stamina monster brings this kind of energy to the bedroom, (wheezes and coughs) then I'll pray for your loins the next time you guys have sex.

Charlie: (panting as she rolls onto her back, too tired to even correct the inappropriate statement) Thank you, Angel. (Tilts her head up and leans on her elbows to watch Vaggie)

Vaggie: (finishes the bear crawls and drops Lucifer off with a jump) Thanks for being my partner, Sir. (Breaks into her burpees)

Lucifer: (wheezes through little spindles of smoke) No problem, Vaggie. Anytime. (To Charlie) What do you feed that girl?

Charlie: (watching Vaggie intently with a fresh blush not caused by exertion)

Angel: Charlie?

Charlie: (watches the muscles in Vaggie's thighs and shoulders work as she speeds through her burpees)

Lucifer: Chaaaaarlie? (Snaps fingers) Little Duckie, are you alright?

Charlie: (hearts beat in her eyes and Careless Whispers plays in the background somewhere as she watches Vaggie's leg, shoulder, and back muscles contract and flex under the duress)

Vaggie: (finishes her burpees and goes into a handstand, briefly getting her balance before starting her handstand push-ups)

Charlie: (watches a bead of sweat follow the contours of Vaggie's shoulder muscles and scars and drool starts dribbling down her chin) Angel.... I need that prayer now....

Angel: Huh? (Follows Charlie'sline of sight and groans in pain as he brings his hands up in prayer) Our Unholy Father of Debauchery, please see that this horny bitch's snatch makes it safely out of the upcoming pounding she is about to receive. May her holes be elastic and well lubricated to avoid tearing, her legs be flexible as they reach behind her head, her orgasms shake her very foundation, and the aftercare be filled with all the cutsey cuddling she can handle. Amen.

Charlie: (continues watching) I wanna climb her.

Lucifer: (awkwardly) Uhhhhh.... Vaggie's not a tree, sweetie.

Charlie: I want her to *CENSORED* my *CENSORED* and *BEEEP BEEEP BEEEEEEEEP* while *CENSORED*,and then *BEEEEEEEEEEEP* and *CENSORED*

Angel: (gasps and clutches his imaginary pearls) Holy Fuck, Babe!!! Cool your jets! (Pulls out his phone and starts recording) I gotta use some of these lines at the next recording!

Charlie: When she smacks my *BEEEEP*, I want to *CENSORED* *BEEEP BEEP* and *BEEEEP-EP-EP-BEEEEEEEP* to taste *CENSORED*.

Lucifer: (faints after hearing his daughter saying such filth)

Angel: (stops recording) ......Fucking-A, Charlie, that's even making me feel dirty.....

Thank you, @sevi-fuk, for giving me the idea of Charlie going fiendish about Vaggie and her muscles.

[keldabekush]

It's Stone's turn at the deskwork tonight and he's a little bit glad about it. His feet hurt and he's sick of the way everything echos in the senate building - the ceilings are so high. He's loosening the fastening clip on his left boot under the desk and marking a file for review with his free hand when Marshal Commander Fox keys open the door.

Stone bashes his shoulder against the desk in his hurry to sit up straight. Fox is already strolling up to the desk and Stone has no time to say anything before he perches himself on the corner and pulls out a crinkly little package.

"Good evening Stone. Do you want a banana chip?"

"I...yeah?"

"Oh i wasn't talking to you. I was talking to her." Fox says, without pausing his careful scrutiny of the bag of dried banana chips

Stone says nothing, because he's confused and he doesn't want Marshal Commander Fox to know that he's confused him. He tries to subtly look behind him in case there is a "her" somehow peering through the window behind him, despite it being hundreds of feet above ground level.

He doesn't manage it before Fox holds out a banana chip to the wad of fabric that's been sitting on the corner of the shared desk since Stone sat down.

Stone is about to turn a devastating raised eyebrow in Commander Fox's direction when the little pile of fabric begins to move, and as he watches on in complete uncomprehension, a teeny tiny little pink hand reaches out and plants itself on the plastic desk top, and then a second, and whatever is in the fabric bag does a luxurious stretch.

Stone is holding his breath for some reason.

A little triangular head with quivering whiskers peeks out, and Commander Fox makes a noise Stone has never heard him make before, like a happy hum or a sort of short laugh.

The thing in the bag slips out into the open to take the banana chip from between his fingers - its a small rodent with four little paws and round ears, with a tidy coat of white and dark brown that makes it looks like it's wearing a little brown jacket with a hood. It eats neatly, holding the banana chip with both of its little pink hands and tucked into a tidy little crouch.

Stone remembers he's not breathed for a minute and does that while Marshal Commander Fox extends the smallest finger on his right hand and brushes the fur behind the thing's ears very gently.

"Sir." He says firmly.

"Stone." He doesnt look at him so Stone can't deploy The Eyebrow, so instead Stone makes his tone as flat as he can.

"Marshal Commander Fox, Sir. What is happening right now. This right here." Stone gestures to encircle the entire tiny scene, "what is this. Explain. Please."

The little creature is leaving tiny banana crumbs beside the Visit Coruscant! keyring Thorn kept on the desk.

"Commander Stone, this is Stone. She's our guest. Would you actually like a banana chip? They're pretty good."

Stone takes one from the bag Fox is holding out to him because its the easiest response. Its crunchy. It is pretty good, actually.

"Hullo, Stone." He says. He's probably asleep at the desk and he'll wake up and tell Thorn about this funny dream.

"She's here because its warmer in the office during the day and she was sounding a bit wheezy. And she likes sleeping when theres company around. Has she been sneezing?"

"No." He answers.

"Ah good. That's better isn't it, little'un?"

He's talking to the animal like it's a first cycle cadet.

"Do you want to hold her?"

What? Oh, that was aimed at him. Stone stares at the thing while Fox picks out another banana chip. It had finished the first treat and was washing its face and whiskers with its tiny paws.

"Sure."

Fox scoops it up like a handful of pudding and drops it into the crook of Stone's arm, and hands it another banana chip. It sits there, vibrating quietly and enjoying its treat while it leaves little banana crumbs on his elbow.

Stone extends the smallest finger of his free hand and smooths the fur between it’s ears. He looks up only after Commander Fox lowers the datapad that had been on the desk and grins at the holo image he's taken. He tucks it under his arm.

"No." Says Stone.

"Yes." Says Fox, plucking the fabric bag off the desk and arranging it into a nest in his palm. He holds out his free hand and makes a "give it here" motion, so Stone carefully transfers the tiny thing to his hand with the same tenderness he would show a live grenade. Fox attempts to tuck it into the nest, but it climbs up his cuirass to nestle up beside his neck instead and he just makes that weird noise again.

"Bye, Stone."

"Goodbye, Commander. Goodbye, Stone."

And like that the door closes behind them and Stone is alone in the office again, one boot unbuckled and the smell of banana in the air.

He wipes the crumbs off the desk and gets back to his forms.

[spiderlilyserendipity]

Useful 🔞🔞🔞 (Jimin x Reader)

Summary: You’ve stretched yourself thin lately and you know it, and so does your boyfriend Jimin. As Jimin always takes good care of you, you decide to give him a treat to thank him—and as always, Jimin gives you back your love tenfold. 

Tags: Dom!Jimin, Sub!Y/N, minimal plot, massages, kneeling, collars, Y/N calls Jimin sir, sub space, oral (m. and f. receiving), praise kink, breeding, cock drunk Y/N, multiple orgasms (f.), protective!jimin (🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵), aftercare!!!!!!

Warnings: Unprotected sex (don’t do that LOL)

W/C: 3055 (3k)

A/N: Guess who’s back on their bullshit? ME. Sorry I kind of disappeared again LOL being a functioning adult is the worst. Anyway, here's some massage-turned-unprotected-sex. <33

Sometimes, you get in moods like this. Moods where everything is irritating and stupid and simultaneously upsetting. You know yourself well enough to know it has to do with you stretching yourself too thin. Work? Of course you can do that task. Family? Absolutely you can attend that event. Friends? Yes, you’d love to go out tonight. 

Jimin also knows you well enough to know when you’re getting like this. You know he’s noticed, from the way he puts in a bit more effort lately to keep you happy. He buys your favourite takeout dinner and bath bombs and even a new matching scarf and gloves set to keep you warm. That’s the way Jimin is—a natural giver with a considerate, purposeful mind. He never so much as says a word to you about your little gifts, but you know he notices when you give him a few more kisses than usual to silently show your affection. 

But you’re getting to a point now where two things become obvious: you need a break before you burn out, and Jimin needs to be shown that you appreciate him before he starts to feel burned out himself. 

The solution comes in the form of an at-home spa kit you buy online. It’s not much, a little warmer and a bottle of lavender scented oil, along with some candles and little hand towels. But knowing Jimin—and knowing you—you don’t stop there. Instead, you hop in the shower as soon as you come home. You wash up and dress in only panties and one of Jimin’s oversized sweaters, light candles and then warm up the oil. 

As your shared bedroom is filled with romantic lighting and the sweet lavender smell, your mind wanders. You think of Jimin’s face when he sees you like this, how his eyes will darken and a smirk will spread on his lips. You think of taking care of him and thanking him for all he does for you with both words and your hands on his body. And naturally, you think of how Jimin will return the favour—with firm words and strong arms around you. A perfect balance of sweetness, teasing, and protectiveness: that’s Park Jimin. 

Your eyes flicker to the collar you set on the nightstand, a black leather collar with plush inner lining and a custom silver J embroidered on the front. You press your thighs together, waiting. 

“Baby?” Your heart leaps as you hear Jimin’s voice down the hallway. Your boyfriend emerges from the hall, curious eyes peeking into the dimly lit room. Then, he sees you, scantily dressed in front of the bed. Jimin smiles, but there’s that familiar edge. “Oh, what’s this?” He asks. 

You lick your lips as Jimin draws closer, loosening his tie. “A surprise.” You whisper. 

Jimin laughs, taking a seat on the bed. “I can see that.” He says, glancing at the massage oil. Your boyfriend brings you to stand between his spread legs with both hands on your wrists. You swallow as he looks up at you with darkness in his eyes. “What kind of surprise, exactly?”

“A massage.” You reply, pressing your thighs together again. Jimin notices, but he’s not strict with you today—he knows you’re too worked up to be teased today. Instead, the man leans in, pressing kisses against your belly over your sweater. You shiver—his lips are still cold from outside, even through the soft material.

“That will be fun.” Jimin says. “Thank you for doing this, baby.”

“No, thank you.” You say, and to anyone else, you would sound like strangers. But only you know the way Jimin’s simple words and touches make you want to obey him, show him how grateful you are, how well you can take care of him. Jimin knows it, too, which is why he lets go of your wrists and runs his hands—which are warm, likely from wearing mittens—up and down the backs of your thighs. “You’ve been so nice to me. I-I want to take care of you.”

Jimin hums, and it’s more beautiful than any melody you’ve ever heard. “Mmhm.” He says, and one hand brushes over your clothed core. You shiver. “Want to submit to me?” He asks, then begins kneading your ass. His touch is firm, reminding you of your place even as you tower over him. 

“Please.” You gasp. “Please, sir.”

“Go get your collar.” Jimin answers, letting go of you. He leans back on his hands as you scurry to the nightstand and back. You kneel on the plush rug by Jimin’s feet, then present your collar to him with both hands. The dom accepts it from you, and you elongate your neck for his ease of access. Jimin plants his elbows on his knees, bending over you to fix the collar in place. “What’s your colour, baby?” The dom asks even though you both know how desperate you are already.

“Green, sir.” 

“Good girl.” Jimin says, then stands up. You look up at him, face a few inches below his clothed cock. Jimin’s eyes darken. He knows what you want, and you both know he’s never denied it to you within limits. You wait patiently as the dom removes his pants, then his boxers and discards them on the floor. When Jimin sits down, you grab the warmed bottle of massage oil off the bed. 

“May I begin, sir?”

“Yes.” Jimin answers, and even he sounds slightly breathless now.

You begin on his right leg, massaging his thigh dutifully. You work away at the knots caused by long hours, then down to his calf. “You have a talent for this.” Jimin praises you, carding a hand through your hair. Your face burns as you sit between his legs and serve him, but you feel so good, so useful. And Jimin is nothing if not vocal about it. “Such a quick learner. My good, smart girl.”

“Thank you.” You whisper as you finish massaging the right leg, then move to his left leg. You repeat your motions, slow and dutiful. As you work at one particular knot in the back of Jimin’s left calf, he sighs in relief. You smile and Jimin catches it. 

“Feel good that you’re helping me?” He asks, and you look up at him. Jimin cups your face with one hand, looking down at you with love. It makes you want to cry in joy, but it also makes your vagina throb as you want to give yourself to him. But you tell yourself to be patient. You want to make Jimin feel good, and you know Jimin will return it tenfold to you in due time. “Massage my hips for me, baby. They’re a bit sore.”

You nod, putting a bit more oil on your hands. You place your hands on Jimin’s hips, running your thumbs along the groove of his V-line and pressing your fingers into his hips. You work at his hips until you end up down at his mons pubis and then lower, where a hard, heavy cock hangs between his legs. “C-Can I help you with that, too, sir?” You ask, and you surprise yourself with how whiny it comes out. 

Jimin laughs at your politeness. “Of course, beautiful.”

You lick your lips, running your slicked hands over Jimin’s cock. You run your hands up and down the shaft, collecting pre-come to lubricate him further. You take the tip in your mouth, swirling your tongue around. Jimin groans above you, spilling praise from his lips. “Oh, that’s right. Just like that. So good, so perfect for me.”

His praise urges you to take him deeper until your nose presses against his mons pubis. You use your hands to cup his balls, massaging them gently. You work your way up and down the shaft, with Jimin’s ever-louder sighs and curses egging you on. You can feel the tightness in Jimin’s abdomen, the way he wants to come in your mouth. And you’d let him, oh how you’d let him. 

But before he can come, Jimin pulls you off him. You look at him, confused. “Come here.” Jimin says, and you climb up into the bed. You eye his cock, but Jimin gives you a breathless chuckle. “You haven’t massaged my back yet, remember?” He reminds you. You blush, and Jimin beckons you closer with two fingers. You position yourself behind him, sitting with your thighs on either side of Jimin’s hips, and add more oil to your hands before massaging his shoulders. 

Jimin sighs as you work away the tension, and his hands find your calves, stroking small circles into your skin. You’re halfway down Jimin’s back when he wraps his arms around your calves and pulls. You gasp as you end up with your clothed vagina against his bare ass. Jimin chuckles, and you know he can feel how wet you are. Flushing in embarrassment, you try to shuffle back, but your boyfriend holds you in place. “I think that’s enough for my back. Why don’t you come over to the front?” Jimin purrs, glancing at you over his shoulder. You gasp as he presses himself back against your soaked panties.

“Y-Yes sir.” You say, and Jimin releases your calves. 

You crawl around Jimin, and the dom lays down. He folds his arms up behind his head, looking comfortable like he’s laying on a sunbed somewhere warm. “Get on my lap.” He says. “And take everything off.”

You remove the two articles you’re wearing in a heartbeat, then straddle your boyfriend’s hips. It’s a struggle to not push yourself down on the leaking cock tucked just behind your ass, since Jimin hasn’t given you permission to ride him yet. 

You run your oiled hands up and down Jimin’s abdomen, over the hard ridges of his ribs and the plushness of his belly. Jimin looks at you for a moment, then grins. “You know, I’m not a big fan of this oil. Can we try something else for wetness?” 

“L-Like?” You ask, but Jimin just holds his hands out to you. You flush, knowing what he wants.

You crawl closer, until you’re straddling Jimin’s face. “Oh, that’s much better.” He says, then breathes cool air onto your already throbbing clit. “Such a useful, useful girl I have.” Jimin says. Before you can thank him, he presses his tongue past the opening of your sopping wet hole. You whimper, almost collapsing but JImin holds you up with his strong grip. “So busy being useful you forgot you’re supposed to feel good, too, didn’t you?” He asks, looking up at you darkly. “But you’re always like that. Always thinking you have to do it all alone, even though I’m right here—” He says, then swirls his tongue around inside you. You cry out. 

“Sorry! I’m sorry, sir!” You beg.

Jimin licks a stripe from your hole up to your clit. Then, he sucks at the bud until you’re shaking above him. “Are you? Are you going to let me put you in your place?”

“Yes, yes, sir!” You chant.

Jimin releases one hand from your hips, sliding it down the curve of your ass until it finds your hole. He presses two digits inside you, and you accommodate them easily. “Good girl.” He praises you, and you’re almost crying by now. You cry out his title. “Count.” He orders.

“T-Ten…N-Nine…” You count, trembling from the force of not coming from Jimin’s skillful lips against your most sensitive lips. “Eight…s-seven, oh—” You moan as Jimin nips at your inner fold, then releases it. Then, Jimin begins pumping his fingers in and out of you faster. “S-Six, five, four—” You continue as Jimin eggs you on. 

“T-Three, oh, two, one—” You pant heavily.

“Now.” Jimin orders and tears fall from your eyes and you shake so hard from your orgasm that he has to hold you up. “Good girl. That’s my girl.” He praises you, turning you so you can lay down against the bed.

“Yours. Yours.” You repeat hazily as Jimin arranges himself above you. He plants his hands on either side of your waist, then kisses you long and deep. 

“Colour?” He checks. 

“Green, please, sir.” You say, guiding his hand up to your collar. “Yours, please, sir.” You all but babble. Jimin beams with pride. 

“That’s right. All mine.” Jimin says, kissing at your hardened nipples, then down to your belly. With one hand, he begins rubbing at your clit again. He works you back up until you’re whiny and grinding against him for another orgasm. “Would my good girl like my cock?” Jimin asks, even though he knows the answer.

“Yes!” You answer immediately. 

“Where?” Jimin teases. You reach down and spread your outer folds, not caring how messy you look right now. Jimin’s gaze darkens. “Right here? In your pretty hole?” He asks, sliding two fingers back into you. You whine as he wiggles the fingers inside you until the room is full of wet sounds. 

“Yes, please. W-Want your cock, sir.” You beg, clenching around his fingers.

Jimin withdraws his fingers, then lines himself up to your entrance. You both moan as he bottoms out within seconds from how soaked and loose you are. “Where do you feel that, baby?” Jimin asks, more for his pride than any other reason. 

You place a hand on your belly. “Right here.” You say. “All full.”

“Yeah?” Jimin says, gripping your thighs and pushing them further apart. He thrusts in and you have to fight not to come right then and there. 

“Yeah.” You whimper. “W-Want your come right there.”

“I know.” Jimin coos at you. “You need your hole nice and full, don’t you? Need to fill up your pretty belly with my seed so you remember who you belong to. So you can quit. Trying. To do. Everything. By yourself.” Jimin says, punctuating his words with long and deep strokes that have your back arching off the bed.

“P-Please sir.” You whine. “Your seed. Please.”

“Gonna come again already?” Jimin asks, knowing your body well. When you reply yes and plead him for permission, Jimin leans down and kisses your forehead. “Hold on a bit more, you can do it.”

“Y-Yes. Yes. Anything you say!” You say, feeling cock drunk. It doesn’t take more than that, only a few more pumps until Jimin’s hips are stuttering from the way you clench him desperately—even as he’s moving. 

“Rub your clit.” Jimin orders, and you reach down, rubbing hard and fast. Within seconds, Jimin is slamming into you one last time, filling you with his hot seed. You come hard around him a second time, but Jimin isn’t done there. He pulls you up, making you squeal. You whine as your positions reverse, with you on top and Jimin laying down. “You can come around me one more time, since you were such a good, good girl.” He praises, entangling a hand in your hair. His grip is firm but not painful. 

“Thank you, sir.” You reply gratefully, running your fingers over your clit. There’s something exhilarating about being stuffed full of come and getting to put yourself on display with it. You make a show of pushing yourself to a third orgasm around Jimin, his seed making both of your thighs sticky and gooey. 

“Show yourself to me again.” Jimin demands, and you spread your folds to him again. The dom growls. “Such a pretty cunt. Who owns that?”

“You, sir!”

“That’s right.” Jimin replies. “Gonna come again for me? My good girl, making a mess with my seed?”

“Yes, please!” You all but scream.

“What a pretty fucking girl. I want to give you my come again and again, until you can feel a baby growing where I put my seed. You would love that, wouldn’t you? Being shown off to everyone as the pretty, obedient girl I got to knock up and to take care of?”

“Yes, oh, please—” You’re crying again, almost insane with the thought of being protected and taken care of by Jimin. You’re so deep into your subspace by now all you can think of is how safe and good you feel right now. “Please, all yours—”

“Come.”

The single word sends you over the edge, and you tremble around him a third time. You lay down on top of Jimin with his cock still inside you. The dom wraps his arms around you, holding you close. “So sweet. My perfect baby.” He praises you, peppering kisses on your temple and forehead. 

“Thank you. Thank you sir.” You repeat over and over, and Jimin holds you tight. 

Once you’re ready, Jimin slides out of you. You roll onto the sheets, but Jimin doesn’t give you time to get lazy. “Come on, we need to shower.” He says, pulling you up into his arms bridal style. You squeal, tucking your chin over his shoulder. 

Jimin helps you shower, particularly gentle with your hips and legs as he knows they’re sore now. He helps you dress in your pyjamas. Then, he lifts you onto the counter, insisting on doing your skincare routine for you. You giggle but let him help you, knowing he likes to spoil you like this. Once you’re done, you hold your arms out to be carried back to bed. Jimin laughs, kissing you again. 

“Oh, you’re a real menace.” Jimin complains dramatically, setting you down in the armchair a few paces from the bed. You grin up at him, and Jimin strokes a hand down the side of your face lovingly. “I’ll be right back.” He says. 

You watch him leave the room, then return with two granola bars and a bottle of water. “I know you ate, but just in case.” Jimin says, watching you open the snacks. While you eat and drink water, your boyfriend changes the bedsheets and blows out the candles. Once he’s done with that, you join him in bed. Jimin envelopes you in his arms, kissing your forehead softly. 

“That wasn’t too much for you, was it?” He checks. 

“No, not at all.” You say, feeling shy when Jimin looks at you with that intense look—like he’d do anything to make sure you’re comfortable and safe. “Thank you.” You add.

Jimin smiles. “You’re welcome, my love.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, my baby.”

[reallyromealone]

Dadzawa and the tiny overhaul

⭐ warnings ⭐

Male reader, Yamada x Aizawa, baby reader, fluff

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Aizawa couldn't believe his eyes.

In a prestine room inside the compound sat a crib, a small baby crying his little heart out as the hero gently lifted him "shhh" he said to the tiny babe who cracked open his teary little eyes and let the hero soothe him "it's ok now" he said as he brought the little babe out to where the police and ambulances were on standby "another child...?" Sansa mumbled in shock as Naomosa called for some paramedics to check on the babe.

The poor thing wailed as he was seperated from Aizawa "Erasurehead sir, could you please hold him while we check his vitals" a paramedic asked and the pro hero nodded and took the babe who immediately calmed down and snuggled into his capture weapon.

They worked carefully around the babe, checking for anything of concern "he seems to be in perfect health, no malnourishment or anything"

"Good"

"Erasure... I'm sorry to ask you this again but..."

"You want me to take him in"

"Please?" Naomosa asked almost pleadingly to the other who sighed "lemme call him"

Aizawa stepped away still holding the baby and called his husband "what's up sho?" Yamadas groggy voice came through as it was rather late "We...we have another one"

"What do you mean?"

"Overhaul had another kid and I'm the only option right now"

"...I'll turn on the kettle"

"I love you"

"Love you to baby" Yamada said shuffling over the phone before hanging up.

"Let's get you home" aizawa said, walking back to the ambulance and after taking a statement and finishing up the pro took the babe back to the apartment.

Yamada didn't know what to prepare for but he took any precautions he could for whatever may be coming through that door.

"Shhh" Aizawa hushed the babe as he stepped into the apartment, the tiny baby babbling away to the hero "who is this...?" Yamada said to his husband as the babe looked at him curiously "from what we gathered, he's the son of Overhaul"

Yamada froze as he took in the happy baby who did resemble the Yakuza boss "I have a feeling we will be caring for him long-term, if he develops his dad's Quirk, he's going to be wanted by everyone" the two looked at him with concern but (name) was stretching his little arms.

"Naomosa is bringing baby supplies to do us till we can get some more, he says he will be here in an hour"

The two walked into the livingroom and Aizawa grabbed one of Eri's stuffed toys and held it infront of the boy, the babe reaching out and gripping it and waving it around before handing it to Yamada with a cute expression.

"He's so cute!" Yamada said taking the boy and lifting him "he's like a little marshmallow!" The blond said as (name) stared at him wide eyed "i can't believe such a monster created such an angel"

The two hung out with the baby who was basically passing out in yamadas arms and neither could blame the poor baby as it was a crazy night for everyone.

By time Naomosa and Sansa came by, they had some baby stuff "I called my sister and she gave some stuff for the little guy" Sansa said holding a few bags of stuff "she had a spare baby bottle warmer and sanitizer from her shower"

"Thank you Sansa" despite his tone Aizawa was genuinely thankful as Naomosa held a file "we found this in his office, it seems to be this little guys files"

"Does he have a name?"

"Not from what we could tell, from the notes it just says "my offspring""

"How could he be so callous with his own son" Yamada said as he gently traced the babes cheek.

"...would it be possible to get custody of him like we did eri?"

"You two already have an impeccable reputation and I'm sure it wouldn't be a problem at all... I will vouch for you two if need be"

After they left, the two men watched the babe before Yamada eventually went to bed, leaving Aizawa alone with the small baby who was out cold in his arms, the hero went to set him down on the couch but the little one began whining and crying at the lack of contact, Aizawa wondering how often the boy was held "shhh"

Aizawa ended up spending the night with the little guy until morning when the rest wandered out "why does dad have a baby...?" Shinso asked confused as a sleepy Eri wandered over to the babe "(name)!" She perked up at the baby who bounced slightly at his name being said "you know him?" Aizawa asked his daughter who nodded "I wasn't allowed near him though, he didn't want me to infect him"

"Well, (name) is going to be a new member of the family" aizawa said softly, the two looking at him wide eyed "he's gonna really need us" Yamada said as (name) stetched out with a seriously focused expression.

"I think he pooped"

[moriwood]

Flavor of the Month — p.js

top!park jongseong x btm!male reader smut 1.5k words

Working at the most exclusive gentlemen’s club in the city, you’ve gotten various influential bachelors lining up each night to have a private show with you. Tonight, you might just be meeting your new favorite client.

includes: jay is the mayor of the city n u suck his cock like the dominant slut that u really are ✨

The decade-old air conditioner whirrs, droplets of refrigerant pooling in a repurposed paint bucket. The stupidly cold and dingy room pricks at your barely-clothed body as you attempt to pose salaciously like the club’s matron told you to do so, but there's not much that you can do when you're sharing the cramped space with others dancing to white noise with awkward fervor.

You play with the waistband of your black mesh briefs, thumbs languidly stretching it around as you wonder who the hell is that man behind the heavily tinted window. You see his silhouette pointing at you, probably whispering something to the matron Heechul with the way he's leaning towards him.

"That one's a new recruit," you hear the muffled voice of Heechul, then a guffaw. They talk more, but the rest’s unintelligible. It takes a few more dull minutes before the man leaves and the door creaks open. The matron Heechul skips — scratch that — hops to you with a gummy smile.

He squeals, “you’ve got someone waiting in the executive suite.”

“Who’s the client?” one of the older performers asks. “Must be a big shot if he doesn't wanna lounge at the front like the rest of 'em.”

Heechul rolls his eyes and harrumphs, “Chitchat later. Our youngest just secured us our wealthiest client tonight." After tousling your hair, he gives your shoulder a friendly pat, accompanied by a hearty cackle. “Make us proud, kid.”

With a cheeky salute to the rest of the men in the room, you grab a bathrobe from the coat hook and make your way to the warmer hallway. A faint red light seeps out the door of the executive suite at the end of the corridor, a mixture between an alluring invitation and a subtle warning.

What meets you inside is a man handsomely dressed in a black suit. He hasn’t noticed you yet, busy unbuttoning his suit. His face is strikingly familiar, as if his image had been plastered on the streets months prior — during a political campaign…

“Mayor Jay?”

Finally, his eyes meet yours; his eyebrows furrowed as he seems to struggle with the buttons of his cuffs. “Shouldn’t you be helping me off my clothes?” he grits, ignoring the fact that you recognized him quite quickly. You smirk, untying your bathrobe and sauntering toward him with an air of nonchalance. His stare locks in on your peeking bulge, beating against the constraint of your skimpy underwear. You help him take his coat off, your hands soon settling on his belt strap.

“First time in a place like this… Sir?” you tease. “I tend to go overboard with the attractive ones so tell me what’s your limit.”

He laughs, “My limit? Don’t boys like you just lie down and stay quiet?”

You wrap your arms around his neck, leaning so close a retort spills from your lips. “You wanna play rough with me?” you sweetly ask. “Wanna fuck me so hard I bleed? Leave me limping so my next clients know how much you fucked me so good?”

An arm envelops your lower back as he pulls you in, a cold calloused hand tickling your warm body and your cock laying flat against his clothed erection. You fall into silence, a gulp escaping. The mayor seems to be intimidatingly well-endowed. “I guess your matron didn’t tell you that I’ve got you for the whole night? You’re only mine tonight.”

Your brain short circuits at the sudden assertion of ownership, hands nervously hovering over his belt in eagerness. But he holds you off, looking around the room, noting a black king-sized bed, a black velvet sofa, and a wine bar with a marble counter. Settling for the sofa behind him, he kicks off his shoes and slips off his socks, sprawling comfortably across the cushions. 

“Give me a glass of that,” Jay commands, pointing at the bottle of Belvedere at the side. You oblige, pouring him a healthy amount in an old-fashioned glass as he undoes his long-sleeve shirt. “Now, you drink it,” he directs. You tilt your head in confusion, but you comply, a single sip already burning your throat. “Drink it all,” he adds.

You’re too weak with alcohol to start drinking way before the client, that’s not a good tactic if you want to milk the mayor’s wallet dry. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sir—”

“I won’t let you suck my dick until you finish that glass,” he warns you, his hand lazily palming his bulge. Your cock twitches in anticipation, chugging the contents of the glass, some of it spilling over the corner of your lips. You pour yourself another one as some desperate act of establishing dominance over the mayor. “Give it to me, Sir,” you beg, eyes slightly blurring and speech slurring with the two meager glasses. Liquor truly hits hard on an empty stomach, you realize. Or maybe the mayor’s just hitting all the right notes with turning you on.

He beckons you over with a finger, making you crawl towards him. His legs spread wide for you and you finally get to unbuckle him, cheeks nuzzling his crotch. The button and the zipper go next, revealing a glorious masterpiece standing on a thick bush, adorned with thick veins and a leaking head. You grab him from the base, as you inhale his musk. Your cock twitches for the nth time tonight.

“Can you fit it all?” he whispers, sweeping your bangs away to look at you in your eyes. “I’ll try,” you mumble, hand gently stroking him up and down. Jay laughs in response, putting his hands back to his sides. “Try to take control and if you can’t, I’ll just fuck your throat.”

You lick his leaking precum, ending at his tip as you start to suck on his head. His precum tastes sweet and bitter at the same time, reminding you of the cum of a man who smokes cigarettes often. Then you notice the slight smell of smoke mixed in his strong perfume, nothing new with your clients. He shivers from pleasure with an inaudible praise. You suck eagerly as your hands roam his thighs, eventually making him tangle his fingers on your hair. 

“You’re such a good boy,” he mumbles, “but you haven’t sucked it all, haven’t you?”

He pushes your head down slowly, tears beginning to spill from the sheer girth and length of his cock. You try to say something in protest, but the vibration of your throat only makes him lean his head back, mouth open and panting like an exhausted athlete. Your nose now lays flat against his pubic hair, and while you weren’t choking, you were struggling to enjoy the experience. Your tongue tries its best to cover the huge expanse, finally withdrawing with his cock fully wet and a string of spit following your tongue.

“Don’t stop,” he begs, hand cradling your face as he stares at you with this new face of desperation. “You’re doing so good, so fucking good.”

You go back to sucking on the head of his dick, this time with your hands stroking the shaft and your best skill, tongue darting across his frenulum. Now, Jay is making a lot of noise, hands clawing at the velvet sofa, a bunch of broken praises and incomprehensible requests falling through deaf ears. You decide you’re still in control, despite the slight inebriation.

It’s beginning to sound all sloppy, precum spilling from his cock like a bottle of lubricant being squeezed. Likewise, you feel yourself spilling through the mesh of your briefs, probably messing up the carpet you were kneeling on. You look up at Jay, and while the poor guy tries to keep his eyesight on you, he’s tilting his head back and gasping in overwhelming pleasure.

“Fuck,” he screams, finally managing to hook his fingers again on your hair and pushing you down. Your hands let go of his cock, your throat now easily slipping the whole length in. “Lap it all up, you fucking slut,” he manages to let out.

You lower down your underwear with your free hand, stroking yourself at the same pace as he pulls and pushes your head on his cock. At an erratic pace. Both of you were about to climax, with the way his cock is throbbing at an abnormal speed and your body tensing up in cold shivers.

“I’m cumming, shit!” he cries, exploding into your mouth. You greedily lap his cum up, swallowing every single drop despite its honestly awful taste. You wish he would’ve cummed in your ass instead, but barely an hour has passed and he promised the whole night for you. You jerk yourself into completion at the same time, squirting cum all over the carpet.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your head as you let go of his cock, both of you breathing rapidly while you stare at each other with still-unresolved lust.

Jay grins as he points again at the bottle of vodka behind you. “Another glass of that and I’ll fuck you in the ass.”

author's note: sry for d inactivity, i jus lov it when exam week suddenly turns into exam month. :') read the very distant sequel here: [Stealing the Spotlight — k.sn + p.js] and stream sweet venom. >:VV

— moriwood. || [My Carrd]

[rooksunday]

this is from the same universe as this breakfast scene, taking place not long after

i woke with the realisation of how the chips are basically encephalitis coded and now here we are

“You have a bed. It’s skinnier than a pod and not nearly as comfortable, but still.” Thorn poked at Fox with the toe of his boot. “A bed for very-nearly-humans.”

Fox grunted and didn’t move. In fairness, movement might’ve been difficult, as he formed the foundation of a massiff-pile. There were seven or eight pups in different growth stages curled up on and around Fox; tucked behind his knees, under his arms, in the crook of his neck. One appeared to have claimed his non-regulation curls as a nest. Fox’s armour sat piled nearby, presumably removed for better snuggling purposes, and one larger pup had even claimed the plastoid for their own. All of Fox, beloved and slobbered upon.

As usual, Grizzer had claimed her place closest to Fox and lay sprawled across his chest with her snout lovingly close to Fox’s face, and she had been glaring balefully at Thorn since the interruption. Between Grizzer’s dark marble eyes, and Fox’s bleary gold, Thorn had vowed to give Thire a kicking for making Thorn take on Fox-rousing duty. He felt like the villain in one of those sad pet charity adverts they screened near Life Day.

“Warmer here,” Fox mumbled.

“You’re certainly sweatier,” Thorn allowed. He frowned. “Did the temp regulator go out? If the pups get overheated, Hound’ll go spare. We can’t— Let me help you up.”

“I can do it.”

“You’re about to step on Jolly. I’ll be quick.”

Carefully moving the pups away from where Fox was slowly staggering to his feet, Thorn was glad of his helmet and his Senate training, because if Fox could’ve seen his concern it would’ve been unbearable. But Fox looked like haran. Like twelve parsecs of bad hyperlanes and then some. Thorn was well aware that he hardly looked decant-fresh himself, still scrambling to get a handle on Coruscant even a few months into the posting, but Fox looked like he hadn’t slept since Kamino, despite Thorn regularly finding him sleeping in the massif pen like a pup.

Once Fox was on his feet, Thorn stepped aside and tucked his hands behind his back; Fox didn’t like being crowded, and he really didn’t care for being touched. Not by non-massifs, anyway: the pups had crowded around Fox’s feet and he crouched to give each of them a solemn pat on the head.

“Where am I this morning?” Fox asked, as he scratched one of the pups on their ridges. He didn’t look at Thorn as he spoke. Without a helmet on, he rarely did.

Thorn shifted his weight. “The Chancellor’s Office. He specifically requested you. Again. I can go if—“

“I can go.”

“Are you sure?”

Fox nodded. He rose to his feet and stood as straight as any shiny. His gaze skidded briefly across Thorn’s face before going past him, and then further still, as distance grew in Fox’s eyes. His jaw worked, like he was chewing on a memory.

“It’s better if I go,” Fox said.

Thorn nodded. “Yes, sir.”

[subbyp]

I have this idea for an AU wherein Sanji’s physical Germa modifications kick in during his time starving on the rock, and when he’s like 14 Judge finds out and decides to take him back by force, because if the physical modifications took then surely the mental ones will too and if not there’s always psychological conditioning like what he did to Reiju, right? So Germa rocks up to the Baratie, burns it to the waterline, slaughters the crew (almost) to a man, and drags Sanji back. they don’t realize that Zeff survives, and they probably wouldn’t care if they did. (more fool them)

the mental modifications never kick in, but Sanji learns to act like they do, developing this false persona as a vicious shallow hedonist. he also leans hardcore on his growing resemblance to Sora to get Judge to indulge his whims (no, there’s nothing actually sexual about it, but it is deeply uncomfortable and it’s supposed to be). this is because he’s waiting for a very specific kind of opportunity…..

five years later, the Straw Hat Pirates are in Loguetown, getting ready to scale Reverse Mountain when Luffy fucks up the storefront of a shabby little seafood shack off the main square where Roger was once executed and is enlisted into chore boy duty. he gets to talking about dreams and piracy and sailing with the owner.

“do you have any dreams?” he says, failing to mop the floor.

“I used to have a few,” says the owner.

“not anymore?” says Luffy.

“none of your business,” says the owner.

“you should be my cook!” says Luffy.

“not a chance in hell,” says the owner.

then the shit goes down that leads to Luffy being put up on the block and almost executed. when the Straw Hats flee to the Merry they find the owner standing there waiting for them with a book under his arm.

he explains that he can’t be their cook—he’s too old and too broken, he’s had enough of the Grand Line, and besides staying in Loguetown is the best shot he has at achieving his dream (“I knew you had a dream!” yells Luffy. everyone ignores this), but he’s got a cookbook and nutrition guide he’s been working on and the Straw Hats can have the first draft so they don’t totally die of scurvy and shit if they swear to do him one favor—to, if they ever, out there on the sea, meet a nineteen-year-old kid called Sanji, tell him that Red-Leg Zeff is alive.

“yeah! of course!” says Luffy. “if you tell me what your dream is.”

“to see him walk free,” says Zeff.

—

Zeff’s cookbook keeps the Straw Hats properly nourished. but they barely make it to Sabaody in canon, and here they have one less combatant, so Kuma decides to split the team at Thriller Bark, and instead of sending Zoro to Kuraigana, he sends his unconscious just-bore-Luffy’s-pain ass right onto the Germa 66 flagship.

Judge wants to vivisect Zoro to figure out how a regular human non-DF-user could be so freakshow strong and then turn his head in for the bounty, but Sanji recognizes him as one of the Straw Hats (and thus, one of the liberators of Alabasta) and improvs on the spot that he wants him as a swordsmanship coach (“after all, sir, you want me to improve my swordsmanship”) and, he heavily implies, bed-warmer. thus Zoro wakes up in a Germa 66 infirmary, wounds bandaged, swords gone, and explosive collar on his neck, as the third-born Prince of Germa demands to be allowed to see his new toy alone. (“yes, I’ll be careful with him. I don’t want to break him when I’ve just got him!”)

zoro, having deduced what sanji is alluding to, is about ready to kill him with his bare hands on the spot, but as soon as they’re alone in the room together sanji starts immediately and profusely apologizing for being such a creep. he says he’s not into men (“especially not unwilling ones”) but it was the only way he could think of to get them even occasional privacy, and btw he is probably going to have to claim that he’s doing some unsavory stuff or else Judge might possibly have Zoro killed, but he’ll never lay a hand on Zoro without his consent besides what is strictly necessary to fake it around the Vinsmokes—

at this point Zoro starts to wonder what the hell he’s going on about. Sanji explains the whole thing and says that he’s planning on somehow getting Zoro back to the Straw Hats as soon as he can, and in the meantime he’ll make sure Zoro gets food and medical care and that nobody sells off his swords or anything, but he needs Zoro to do something for him in return:

“I’m going to feed you every bit of knowledge I have about Germa 66, and when you leave here, you need to give that information to someone who can destroy us until not even memories remain.”

[prolix-yuy]

Simulated

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader Actress

Summary: You're a professional, which is why a sex scene with Dieter Bravo will be no problem at all. Now you just have to convince yourself to believe it.  

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, descriptions of male and female bodies, simulated sex, grinding, fantasizing about sex, anxiety, lil bit of size kink, probably incorrect method for filming sex scenes but I'm using what I know and making up the rest. Don't do this for real, this is fantasy and Dieter is a filthy boy.

Notes: This leapt out of my brain and was enabled by the Discord besties. Dieter brainrot is setting back in but I doubt anyone's complaining. This may be the sexiest thing I've ever written without actual sex happening, but you all can be the judge of that.

Cross-posted on AO3

Midnight Alley Masterlist

Trembling on the verge of passing out is not how you wanted your first time in Dieter Bravo’s arms to be, but no amount of reprimands to your rebelling body have worked. 

It’s not him, far from it. Dieter had been nothing but gentlemanly since you came in for scene blocking. The director offered to have stand-ins while they adjusted lighting and staged the shots, but you boldly offered to come in anyways. It wasn’t your first shoot, but it was your first sex scene, and you wanted to impress the director with your no-nonsense attitude about it. 

All that confidence flew out the window when you came face to face with your scene partner, Dieter Bravo. Well aware of his aloof playboy nature, you didn’t expect his handshake to be so warm, the quirk of his smile to make your heart flutter, or for him to smell so strongly of eucalyptus. Apparently his agent mentioned you would be there for staging, and he decided to come in to test your chemistry. No issues there, your curious eyes roaming over his wrinkled cargo pants and threadbare sweater. He could be wearing nothing and you’d still melt into a puddle. Which, shockingly, wouldn’t be that far in the future.

Calm down, girl. Be professional.

To be fair, Dieter is fucking gorgeous, even under the bloodshot eyes and air of annoyance. His curls are even softer looking in person, heavy shoulders stretching his t-shirts and bulky forearms complimenting his thick thighs. Even the little pooch of a tummy makes you salivate. While your friends drool over Tom Hiddleston or Harry Styles, your heart beats fast for men who can crush you under their bulk. “Weighted blanket boys,” you like to call them, and Dieter wholly falls into that category. 

Which is why when you got the casting call for a bit part in the crime drama Midnight Alley, which Dieter had been co-starring in for three seasons, you leapt at the opportunity. Even if you didn’t get to share a scene, at least you could catch a glimpse, maybe say hello. That was surely worth the long hours. His proclivities for casual sex definitely didn’t fit into that plan. No sir. Definitely not.

It all became real when you got the pages. Your character was a one night stand, relegated to three scenes - the bar where you make eyes across a crowd, the tasteful sex scene (though only barely - tv ratings have really changed in the last twenty years), and the morning after when he leaves to go to a crime scene. The “gaze across the smoky dance floor” was easy enough; anyone with half a brain and a pulse would blush at Dieter’s intense stare, raised eyebrow, and sly grin, a signature of his questionable character. It raises goosebumps down your arms, his parted lips and the slip of his pink tongue resting just inside, the crinkle of his eyes when he knows he’s got you. If a man ever gave you that look you’d be in his bed in moments. 

Scratch that. Not just any man. Dieter’s the only one who could pull that off.

The blocking should have evened out your nerves, and in the moment you believed it did. Dieter was an absolute gentleman, even warmer than you hoped, as you waited to be called on set.

“Ever done a scene like this before?”

“First time. Can you tell?”

He thumbed through his thicker script.

“Wasn’t going to make you more nervous by pointing it out. But yes.”

You blew out a puff of air, making Dieter smirk even more as you crinkled your sheets.

“How do we…?”

“You know the direction?”

“Yeah, it seems…straightforward.”

“Well, today we’re just going to do the major movements - positions, angles, you know - and while they mark focus and shine a light directly up my asshole, we can talk.”

A burst of giggles pulled a wider smile onto his face, waiting for you to calm yourself.

“What do we talk about?”

“What’s comfortable for you. What would pull you out of the scene. What you’re open to. You’re our guest after all.”

So your afternoon was spent pantomiming the sex acts written for you and…talking. Which wasn’t supposed to be sexy, or like two hours of incredibly hot foreplay, but your body apparently didn’t get the memo.

“Anything you really don’t want me to touch? Besides the obvious,” Dieter asked, coming down from his hands to his elbows by your face. The tip of his nose brushed briefly against yours. A hairlight shifted in your periphery.

“My ribs are pretty ticklish,” you admitted, nodding to the assistant director Ramona when she moved on to the next setup. Scooping his hands behind your back, Dieter pulled you on top, showing how to sit a little further up on his stomach to fake the grinding. Unfortunately, the plush flesh against your core didn’t help with the ache.

“Here’s okay?” he asked, wrapping his hands just under your breasts, the tips of his thumbs barely grazing the swell. You nodded, body getting jolted again when the director Adiel asked for Dieter to scoot up the bed a few inches.

“My, uh…” you said, then stopped as you lost confidence. Dieter took his hands off your chest and laced them on his own. He looked up at you expectantly. “My…nipples are really sensitive, so I know I’ll have pasties on and everything, but, it’s like, uncomfortable if they get touched certain ways. So I just wanted to…warn you of that. It shouldn’t be a problem, just, ah, you know, just in case.” Your throat closed up, embarrassment at even saying anything crushing your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

“Thanks for telling me, I appreciate it.” Dieter patted your thigh and his smile was a little more tender than before. 

God, he really looked good underneath you.

“My skin’s sensitive too, scratches show up really clearly on it and it pisses off the cinematographer. So that’s the only thing we’ll have to watch out for there.” The shuffle of changing positions interrupts your conversation until you’re on your stomach with him pressed against your back.

“Sorry if I pop one too, it’s kind of par for the course with these. I’m good at keeping it under control for the most part.” You giggle into the pillow as he hovers over you. 

“My biggest advice?” Dieter murmurs, mouth close to your ear. You hum into the pillow. “Let yourself have fun. It’s not gonna feel natural, but that doesn’t mean it’s gotta feel cold. You won’t offend me if you go off script. I might too, if it feels right. If we’re having fun, the audience will too.”

The weight of his body bearing down on you drives any more anxieties out of your blissed-out brain.

The day of the sex scene comes quicker than you’d like, and the tender crush you’d been nursing for Dieter has become a panicked bird inside your ribcage. You’d spent the hours before preparing, mentally and physically with an indulgent morning routine, but nothing can stop your nerves when Dieter catches sight of you and gives a little wave. He’s in jeans and a black button-up, hair being artfully styled but sunglasses still on. One knee bounces in the chair but otherwise he looks cool as a cucumber. 

The sliver of golden chest you peep through the neck of his shirt sends you scurrying to your dressing room.

Everything leading up to the moment you step on set is distraction. Chatting with makeup, hair, props, with the fucking boom operator who looks just as confused as you are that you’re asking about good places to eat in the area. You talk with the intimacy coordinator, who gives you final notes on the scene. (“If Dieter makes you uncomfortable at all you give me The Eyes and I’ll correct him. No questions asked. I’ve worked with him for years, and I will cuss him out to his face.”) Eventually there’s no one left, and you’re standing alone clutching a water bottle to your chest when Dieter sidles up.

“Nervous?”

You almost jump out of your bathrobe. Which would suck because all you had on was a dark lace lingerie set, pair of pasties and the strange modesty patch protecting your lady bits. Sometimes seeing the behind-the-scenes really did erase the movie magic.

“Yeah, sorry. It’s a little more real now than the rehearsal,” you sigh, and Dieter’s bray of a laugh actually calms you. He puts a hand on your back and rubs firm, soothing circles that bring your heart back into an acceptable rhythm.

“You’ll do fine. And I’ve done this…eh, probably more times than it’s polite to mention. You’re in good hands.” He pulls off his sunglasses, treating you to rich brown eyes you could lose yourself in if you weren’t a professional, goddammit. 

“Close the set, please!” Ramona calls out, and the nonessential crew files out until it’s just you and Dieter and about eight other people who will be watching you writhe and moan. Taking in a deep breath and letting it out loudly, you shake your limbs and metaphorically gird your loins (since they already are pretty girded).

“Can I have actors on set please?” You stride up to the bed with as much confidence as you can muster, Dieter strolling up behind you. Now that he’s close he smells like fresh cotton and spice, a sharp shift from the earthier scents you’d been experiencing. Even a hint of mint from his breath, suddenly thankful you’d brushed and mouthwashed twice. 

“Positions for Scene 17.”

Yes, the first shot. Dieter would be hovering over you, kissing you as he pulls his shirt off. You would be in your bra and panties, slivers of your body visible in the frame but Dieter’s broad chest and unbuttoned waistband on display. Sliding the bathrobe off and placing it off camera, you arrange your limbs on the bed, hands shaking just a little now. Dieter stands at the foot, and if you weren’t about to simulate sex you’d swear he was devouring you with his heavy gaze.

Just getting into character. Breathe.

“Roll sound.”

“Speed.”

“Scene 17a, take one. Roll camera.”

“Rolling.”

“...Action.”

As the set drops to silence, you watch Dieter change from the slightly aloof but sympathetic actor to a brooding morally gray detective needing to bury his failures in a soft body. Despite your coaching, your eyes widen at the set of his jaw, how dark his eyes become when he wrenches off the offending button-up. He sinks to his knees between your thighs and hovers over you, hands pushed into the mattress on either side of your head. 

“Be good for me, yeah?” he husks, deeper and full of gravel. You nod, and he descends to crush your lips together. He urges your mouth open and works your lips together, but his tongue stays obediently behind his teeth. 

Fuck, for a second you forgot you were acting.

His hips dip, denim scraping along the inside of your thighs. He parts from your mouth with a gasp, forehead coming down to press against yours. He takes a deep breath, then…

“Cut! Reset.”

You blink slowly, Dieter already lifting back up to stand at the foot of the bed, rebuttoning his shirt. 

“Any notes?” he asks, voice so calm and clear you snap back to the reality of the situation. 

“When you’re kissing, pull her thighs up around you,” Adam says, Dieter’s head swiveling back.

“That all right by you?” he asks, smoothing the shirt on his skin. 

“Yeah, yeah, absolutely,” you answer, trying not to croak out the words. It was just the first take, it’s fine that you’re a little off-kilter. It would be easier by the second one.

It was not. Not by the third either, still swimming in the heady arousal that wafts from Dieter’s commanding presence. The director complimented how you clutched at his shoulders when he squeezed your thighs, which you tried to pass off as purposeful rather than hanging on for dear life. You were doomed, you’d bitten off more than you could chew and you were going to mess up this role and had no idea how to stop it.

Three more scenes to go.

You take a lap as they reposition the cameras, flip-flops slapping against the concrete floors of the soundstage as you debate if you have enough time to rub one out before going back, just to take the edge off.

“Actors back on set!”

Dammit.

Scene 18 has you riding Dieter, his hands guiding you until he bares his teeth (your signal to move with him) and rolls you on your back to pound you into the mattress. The lingerie is gone now, the cool air of the soundstage caressing over curves of your body that most people rarely see. Dieter averts his eyes when you disrobe, and carefully arranges himself below you. You’re feeling more centered, straddling Dieter with a little less fire burning between your legs, but your troubles take a sharp turn.

“Lean forward a little more, you’re half out of the shot.”

“A little faster.”

“Put your hand on his stomach about ten seconds in.”

“Never mind, back to how we had it before.”

“No, we said no hand, remember?”

“Do you need a break?”

Your body shakes after take 6, half from the exhaustion of lifting up on your knees over and over, your toes starting to go numb, and half with anxiety over forgetting another cue, or missing another note. The smile you keep shooting the director is getting strained, and mortifying tears start to prick your eyes. Dieter is watching your face closely, and with a pointed look at Ramona she calls a brief break. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, guiding you off his lap to sit on the edge of the bed. You cross your arms over your chest, and he reaches over to give you your robe. Draping his own over his lap, he strokes that soothing pattern of circles over your back as you shake your head.

“Sorry, it felt so easy in rehearsal, I’m having like, a weird lockup right now,” you stammer out.

“It’s okay,” he says, “I know what it is.” You look up at him with more desperation in your eyes than you mean. He nods sympathetically.

“It’s the cock sock, isn’t it?” 

He delivers the line completely deadpan. The shock of the phrase, plus the serious set of his brow, makes hysterical laughter burst from your lips. You bury your face in your hands and shake as Dieter’s deep chuckles tickle into your ear.

“That’s better, just need to get a little of that tension out,” he soothes, meeting your eyes with a charming smile. If only this could be a real moment, not something looked on by several men and women drinking coffees. Dieter seems like the kind of partner who would always make you comfortable, and seen, and absolutely satisfied.

That last thought tingles the baby hairs on the back of your neck as you move back into position. Straddling Dieter once again, the ridiculous genital covering out of sight, he grips your shoulders.

“Okay, let’s get back into character here, yeah? Remember your motivation?”

You nod. Not that the scene really needed a deep backstory, but you’d decided you were blowing off steam after a rough few days at work and an ex texting you to get back together. Dieter was mysterious, exciting, so different from your past boyfriends, and when he met your eyes across the room all you wanted was for him to wash the bad taste of their memories out. 

“Got it? Good. Here’s mine,” he says, leaning up while the last few preparations finish around you. Lips to your ear, he whispers only for you. 

“Another dead end, another long day, and I want something to distract me. I’ve got my eye on my usual type, but then I see you. You stand out in the crowd, bold, confident. You hold my stare, challenge me. I thought I wanted something easy, something mindless, but looking at you, I changed my mind. I wanted something with substance, someone to give as good as she gets, and I know you’ll give me even better. My cock got hard just looking at you, you’re fucking perfect. And then when you let me buy you a drink and you criticized my whiskey choice, I wanted to bend you over the bar right there. So I’m taking you home to bury my troubles, but you can surprise me as many more times as you like. I like to be surprised. I want you to take me as much as I’m taking you.”

Dieter lies back with a hell of a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

“Action!”

Your body moves with an ease that had been eluding you, liquid rolls as you take your time riding him. His hands come up to your hips, urging you faster, and instead you grind down on him, pressing your hands into his chest and pinning him into the bed. You’re not supposed to be fighting him, but it feels so right to arch and rock harder into him. His bare legs flex against your ass, meeting your hips with his thrusts. You can imagine how good he’d feel if you weren’t faking this, how his powerful thrusts would hit your g-spot. His hand cups the back of your neck, teeth bared in warning as he rolls you onto your back. 

“You’re so sexy,” he growls in your ear, hooking your legs around his waist and smacking his hips into yours. The impact is softer than it looks, aided by your moans and writhing beneath him. He goes for a handful more thrusts before “Cut!” is shouted again.

“There we go! I like the improv, can we do just one more for coverage?” Ramona says, giving you an approving smile when you immediately get into position. 

“I could go all night,” Dieter shoots back, earning an eye roll from half the crew and a dry mouth from you when he flicks his gaze back and winks. 

The second take flows even better, your bodies finally speaking to each other. Dieter palms your ass, you slow your hips. He urges you to go faster, you grind down on him. He grits his teeth as you push his chest, nails just about to bite into the supple flesh. His eyes capture yours over and over, and the hunger inside them is some damn good acting. 

The cues, the flip, and you’re on your back again, but this time Dieter drops his head to cover your breast with his hot mouth. You arch, a strangled gasp as you wait for his tongue, his teeth, but he works his jaw against the flesh and nothing more.

Fuck, you want something more.

When he pops his mouth off he resumes the script, thrusting frantically into you but with more force this time, even an edge of desperation. You meet his energy, throwing your head back and letting him yank you against him over and over. The slap, the friction, this gorgeous man before you all makes slick weep from your untouched cunt, clit aching for the act you’re simulating.

“Cut! Excellent, really good work guys, you’re hitting your groove here. Let’s move on to 19.”

Dieter stays above you for a few seconds more, your chests heaving. The lust bleeds away to a soft smile as he pats your side.

“Good work, you take direction really well.”

You bite your tongue to stop yourself from saying, “Just from you.”

You take one more walk around the soundstage to try and calm your rebellious body, but the moment you see Dieter again, kneeling in the bed with the blankets bunched in front of his hips, it’s all dashed away. Even his respectful touches as he guides you to your stomach, checking in if you’re comfortable, all burn across your skin. You just need to get through this scene.

“Action!”

This is indeed the finale. Dieter would finish above you, pounding into you from behind. You were supposed to lie there and take it, let him cuss and choke into the back of your shoulder before his breathing slows and you cut to the next morning. You could do that. You totally could. Most men you’ve been with hump you into the bed like this and it does very little for you. This would be fine.

The moment Dieter starts rutting against your ass you know you’re done for. You’re too worked up, and the position lightly teases your nipples. A wrinkle of blanket rubs against your mound just enough to relieve your clit, and while you know you should stop you can’t help but grind into the bed just enough to light up your nerves. Dieter hovers above you, thick forearms planted by your shoulders as he hisses and grunts his way to a fake climax. You press back against him, giving your own satisfied smile as he drops his forehead between your shoulders and rolls his hips again. 

“Not bad, can we go one more time?”

Shit. You’d hoped that would be enough, arousal rising dangerously between your thighs. Rearranging the sheets to deny you pleasure, you catch Dieter slumping to one side and watching you. It’s intense, being in his stare, but also warming and protective. When you lie back on your stomach and give him a nod that you’re ready, he leans down and whispers in your ear.

“If you want it, you can have it. I won’t tell anyone. You take it when it comes.”

You barely get a moment of shock before the cameras are rolling and the scene begins again. Did Dieter just…insinuate that he’d cover for you if you came? The thought makes wetness gush between your thighs, now lacking the friction you were relishing in earlier. The need aching in your cunt makes you roll your hips back against Dieter, a strained “fuck” spitting through his teeth. He grabs your hips and guides you against his narrow ones, not quite hitting where you want but the snap and slap of him against you still works you up more than it should. You cry out, bury your face in the pillow, fist the blankets as he chases his release. The practiced groan signals the end, this time his cheek pressing against your back and a kiss dotting your spine. 

Thank God. You were finally in the clear.

“I think we need one more, guys. I want a little more…intimacy this time. You both okay with that?”

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

“I don’t…” you started to protest until Dieter’s hand finds its way to the back of your neck.

“I think you can do it. I know you can. One more time?” he asks, but in his eyes is a promise that makes you nod, even against your better judgment.

This time I’ll make you cum.

Dieter changes tactics when the cameras roll. He starts off fast, yanking you back against him. Sitting up on his heels he arches you off the bed with his expansive hands. His thighs cage you in, squeezing tight. Something thick and soft slides against your ass, and you realize Dieter is hard behind you, cock still wrapped up but the weight of it against you obvious. You want him between your legs, fat head sliding over your clit, but you let him adjust you to exactly where he wants. 

With Dieter’s guidance you rock and writhe against him, drips of praise reaching your ears. With a deeply groaned, “Fuck, baby,” he folds over you, stomach pressing into your back. His fingers lace with your own, hugging you to his chest as he pumps his hips in long strokes. His cock nudges your lower back, little gasps keening out. He noses your cheek and guides you to turn your face to the camera. 

“This okay?” he mouths into your ear and you let out a, “Yes, please,” loud enough to mean anything for the camera. You slide a hand into his hair, gripping the thick curls to a stuttered sigh of pleasure. The pressure and motion finally gives you the stimulation you need, and it’s barely any time before your orgasm barrels to the forefront. You tighten your grip on Dieter’s large hand and school your face just enough to not look like you’re cumming through the hottest scene you will ever act in.

“That’s it, take it, take it baby, you’re doing so well, fucking god, look at you,” Dieter groans into your ear. He presses you deeper into the mattress, muting the uncontrollable bucking of your hips for the camera. Teeth scrape along your jaw in tender nips as he stutters to his fake finish, a guttural groan and relaxing of his body signaling the end of the scene. But Dieter lifts up on one elbow and pinches your chin between two fingers, turning your face to his. He looks at you like a mystery to be solved, like a gift, and then kisses you, slow and indulgent.

“Cut! Excellent, loved the ad libbing Dee, but you gotta stop saying fuck, we’ll have to cut that out,” the director says. Dieter laughs against your back, and the warmth of his skin makes you want to melt into the bed and never leave. 

“You doing okay?” he asks, lifting up off you and tugging both your bathrobes over to give you some modesty. He fists his own over his swollen erection, a little pink high in his cheeks and sweat along his hairline.

“Yeah, perfect, absolutely,” you say lightly, legs wobbling when you try to stand up. His eyes drag over you, a prideful smile playing on his lips as you try to cover up your dazed affect. “One more scene?” you say brightly.

“Yeah,” he says, distracted. “One more scene.”

The final shot of your day is the following morning, soft yellow light traded for the cool blue of daylight streaming in. You’re facing away from the camera, Dieter waking and looking over at your naked shoulder. He sits up and strokes along the curve of your waist, making you sigh in your sleep. He watches you with a mix of regret and resolution, kisses your shoulder, and gets out of bed.

The scene is done in one take. You wish it took all day.

The end of the shoot is quiet, taking off makeup and getting back into your public clothes. You strain to hear someone coming to your dressing room, a certain wild-haired brown-eyed man giving you a sendoff. A kind word, a piece of advice, you’d take anything. But he doesn’t come, and you leave the soundstage with your check and thanks and promises of references. 

The drive back to your apartment is quiet, music even feeling too loud for the moment. Weaving through LA traffic, the moments of your day slip through your mind like silk ribbons.

You suppose this is what meeting your heroes is like. A moment in the sunlight of their presence, then back to the real world of auditions and day jobs and hoping your parents never see this particular part of your portfolio. The dishes need washing, calls need to be made, and you have to go on with your life. It was an excellent experience, albeit a slightly inappropriate one. But if that’s the worst you got up to with Dieter then it was fairly tame.

The fleeting thought of what you’d actually hoped you’d get up to with Dieter comes and leaves without incident. 

By the time you get home you’re planning what casting call you’d go to tomorrow, making your grocery list, and considering if you can get away without doing laundry tonight. Which is why you walk past the bouquet of flowers in the atrium without checking who it’s for. Waiting for the elevator, however, curiosity gets the better of you and you peek at the card.

Your name. It’s your name on the perfectly imperfect bouquet of garden roses and eucalyptus. You’re opening the card as your cell phone vibrates in your pocket. Fishing it out, you greet the Midnight Alley casting agent on the other end.

“Are you open to a semi-recurring role?” 

“W-what?”

“Yeah, the director and AD were really impressed with your chemistry with Bravo. They’ve been trying to write him a love interest in the show, but he’s turned down all the potential actresses and guest stars. No chemistry, bad chemistry, whatever, but the point is he asked for them to consider you.”

Your hands shake, the clean white card pinched between your fingers.

I think we can do better together than that. Dinner?

-DB

“What do you think?”

Your heart flutters as you set it free.

“When can I start?”

END

[jinjinxedsoul]

When The Sun Loved The Moon - Aegon II Targaryen

CHAPTER 4. QUEEN OF LOVE AND BEAUTY

130 AC

The swords clashed with force, and the metallic sound made the youngest of the brothers cover his ears. The man holding him in his arms chuckled at seeing him so annoyed by such trivialities.

“I want to fight too!” exclaimed one of the princes, looking at the older one.

“You already fought with Jaella and she left you lying on the ground.”

“Be more careful!” complained the silver-haired girl, pushing her older brother while rubbing her jaw.

“In the battlefield, no one is careful, princess,” Sir Erryk reminded her.

The teenager rolled her eyes and then threw her sword away, raising her hands in surrender as Jacaerys laughed at her, earning a new punch to the stomach.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” Jaella complained, sitting next to Daemon. “Can you remind me why it was agreed that I should be trained in combat?”

“Something had to be done with your temperament,” Daemon shrugged. “Besides, I prefer that you know how to defend yourself rather than just be a pretty face, bear children, and smile.”

“Do you think I’m pretty?” she asked, looking at him with a surprised expression.

“You’re insufferable, Jaella.”

“But pretty, right?”

“Too pretty for your own good,” he added, not losing the irony in his voice. “That’s why you need to know how to handle a sword.”

Over time, Jaella’s relationship with Daemon improved, moving from individualism to starting to see each other as a complete family. Jaella hadn’t said it out loud yet, but she was beginning to consider Daemon as a father.

“I won’t let my sister have to pick up a sword to defend herself,” Jacaerys spoke firmly.

“And what would you do in the event of a war, boy? When you’re short on hands and swords, you’ll wish to draw support from the rocks themselves.”

“It doesn’t matter if the bloodiest war in history breaks out, I’ll make sure that my mother, my wife, and my sister never have to fight.”

“I’m very grateful for that, my sweet child,” their mother’s voice drew everyone’s attention.

Princess Rhaenyra walked over to them, lifting little Joffrey, who had jumped from Daemon’s lap the moment his mother arrived.

“I’m glad to see you’ve finished your duties for the day,” Rhaenyra announced. “We’re expecting a visitor this afternoon, and I would like everyone to be available to receive him.”

“A visitor?” Jacaerys asked, frowning.

“Your uncle Aegon is coming from King’s Landing.”

The news hit Jaella like a bucket of cold water, and her gaze instinctively sought her mother’s, who gave her a reassuring smile. It had been quite a while since she last saw Aegon; however, they continued to exchange messages whenever they could. Over the past few moons, those messages had carried repressed feelings and words she wouldn’t dare say aloud in front of anyone, but which involved Aegon’s promise to claim her maidenhood before it was taken by another.

Her heart raced, well aware that her uncle’s promises were not mere empty words; it was a silent pact she had happily accepted, but which filled her with a nearly suffocating nervousness.

She found herself both eagerly anticipating and dreading Aegon’s arrival, but there was little she could do to avoid it.

═════𖠁 ═════

She ran her hands over the fabric of her dress once more. During her childhood and even a few years ago, Jaella had almost religiously worn the blue colors of her late father's house. But as she grew, she favored rich burgundy fabrics with black and gold accents. The blue had almost disappeared from her drawers, though she still wore it when she missed Laenor.

That day, taking advantage of the slightly warmer weather in Dragonstone, she dared to wear one of her few short-sleeved dresses with a neckline that revealed her shoulders and collarbones. The burgundy color stood out against her siblings' darker outfits. Her hair, usually worn up, was left loose, with only a braid on the sides.

It was obvious to everyone that Jaella was trying to enhance her beauty for Aegon, though no one mentioned it, even though Jacaerys seemed particularly annoyed by all the attention his sister was lavishing on herself.

When they reached the stone steps, Sunfyre had already landed, and the prince, clad in emerald robes, dismounted from his dragon with ease. It was clear that time had been kind to Aegon, as his features were becoming much more mature and his bearing was now that of a man. Though he wasn’t very tall, he was considerably taller than the young Velaryon, who barely surpassed Lucerys' height.

Aegon seemed quite uncomfortable visiting a place he wasn’t used to and that his mother had insisted he avoid. However, when his gaze met Jaella’s, everything else seemed to fade into the background. Violet met violet, quickening his heart and drawing a bright smile from her.

“I hope your journey was comfortable, Prince,” Rhaenyra said as she approached.

“As comfortable as a dragon ride can be,” he replied with a half-smile, trying to lighten the mood.

“Why have you come to my home with such short notice?” Daemon seemed quite distrustful of Aegon’s visit, but Rhaenyra quelled his hostility with a glance.

“I’m sure Prince Aegon has a good reason for his visit, doesn’t he?”

Despite the princess Rhaenyra’s diplomacy, the younger brother could sense his sister’s nervousness and the subtle yet urgent way she was asking for answers.

“I’ve come as a messenger,” Aegon hurried to clarify. “Our father wishes to celebrate Princess Jaella’s nameday with a tournament, and at its conclusion, he plans to finally celebrate the wedding of my sister to Prince Jacaerys.”

Rhaenyra exhaled sharply, momentarily relieved by her half-brother’s visit; her muscles relaxed, and a smile spread across her face.

“That is excellent news,” the elder princess exclaimed. “I’ve arranged for a room to be prepared for you so you can rest from your journey. We are about to have supper.”

Although the dragon ride from King’s Landing to Dragonstone was not very long, the hospitality of the family was always to be well received. Despite what his mother might say, the young prince did not mind the idea of spending the night or even a couple of days at his sister’s home, especially since there was something more than the roasted pig in plum sauce at dinner that demanded his attention.

Dinner proceeded without major issues; in fact, one could say that Aegon, Rhaenyra, and especially Daemon put aside their differences to enjoy a meal like any family that hadn’t been consumed by the flames of discord. Rhaenyra noticed that her half-brother was also very different from how he was around Alicent, and this sparked an idea in her mind.

“Feel free to stay as long as you like. If possible, you can stay until the day we travel to King’s Landing for the celebration,” she offered.

“That’s a very generous offer,” the prince smiled, taking a sip of his wine. “But I’m afraid I can only stay a couple of days, or my mother will go mad.”

“Then feel free to do as you please. The island isn’t very large; I’m sure you’ll be able to visit the best spots during your stay,” the elder princess offered. “I’m sure Princess Jaella can give you a good tour; she knows this place better than anyone.”

Jaella held her breath at her mother’s suggestion. Throughout dinner, she had remained silent, aware of the furtive glances Aegon cast her way from time to time. It was all very strange, as she had never felt this way before, as if the mere attention of the prince was burning her.

“Of course, Mother,” she finally replied, forcing a smile that she hoped appeared natural. “It will be a pleasure to show the prince the secrets of our island.”

Daemon chuckled, fully aware of the double meaning that Jaella’s words might imply. The prince didn’t seem too pleased with the idea, but since the young woman’s mother was in favor, Daemon had little say in the matter.

“It will be a pleasure, Princess,” Aegon said in a soft voice, his tone laced with insinuation, which did not go unnoticed by any of the present.

Jaella looked down, her face turning red almost immediately, and her insides twisted with a mix of nervousness and excitement. She definitely wasn’t sure how she would face what was coming.

═════𖠁 ═════

“I thought you’d wait until morning to ask for a tour,” the princess declared.

Aegon had called for her shortly after dinner, asking her to take him on a tour of the garden. The prince knew little about Dragonstone, but he had heard from his father that the fortress’s garden was named after the Conqueror, just like him, so he had been curious to see it.

“I have been deprived of seeing the things I delight in for too long.”

From the moment her uncle had set foot in the castle, there had not been a moment when her cheeks did not flush, whether from Aegon’s subtle comments or the way his gaze seemed to see through her very soul.

“Then I won’t make you wait any longer.”

The prince’s smile widened, but he said nothing, simply following the path Jaella showed him, which was not very long. There was a certain excitement spreading through his chest at the thought of soon being away from the curious eyes of the servants, alone with her after having spent so much time apart.

They arrived at the Conqueror's Garden, where the silence was only broken by the gentle sound of water from the fountain in the center. The air was filled with the scent of pine, and the red of the wild roses and the berries growing there stood out vividly against the darkness of the night.

“It’s more beautiful than I imagined,” Aegon murmured, taking a deep breath and filling his lungs with the scent. “It’s darker too.”

“Everything in Dragonstone is darker than in other places,” she said with a smile, passing by him before approaching the fountain, sitting at its edge and playing with her fingers in the water.

“Sometimes darkness has its own charm.” The prince decided to sit beside her, quickly taking her hand and bringing it to his lips to place a gentle kiss on the back, which elicited a sigh from the young woman. “I longed to see you again.”

“Dragonstone isn’t that far from King’s Landing,” she said as if reproaching him. “By dragon, the journey is even shorter.”

“It’s not the distance that kept me from visiting you,” he smiled, caressing her hand without letting go, keeping it on his lap. “As time goes by, my mother keeps finding new responsibilities for me; the more occupied I am, the better it is for her.”

“I thought you were more rebellious than that.”

Aegon let out a small laugh that made Jaella smile.

“I thought that if I fulfilled my duties diligently, perhaps my father would see me differently and maybe... accept our betrothal,” he spoke so quickly that Jaella had trouble understanding what he was saying.

“Our? Yours and mine?”

“Why does it sound like a surprise to you? I think I’ve made it quite clear that I want you to be my wife.”

“It sounds like a surprise because the letters I receive from my friends at court paint you as a completely different person,” she said with a soft laugh. “They surely wouldn’t believe that Prince Aegon wants to get married.”

“Do those friends include Harland Arryn?” he asked, curiosity laced with what sounded like jealousy.

“If you’re worried about the messages I might share with Harland, you can dismiss it from your mind; yours are infinitely more... appreciated.”

A mischievous smile appeared on Aegon’s lips as he vividly recalled the contents of those letters, and Jaella blushed, or at least that’s what he thought from the way she seemed to avert her gaze nervously.

Aegon stood up and gently tugged on Jaella’s hand to get her to stand as well, which she did immediately. The prince pulled her closer to him, looking her up and down with a scrutinizing gaze. To him, there was no woman more beautiful in the Seven Kingdoms than his niece, and he wasn’t sure when he started considering her this way, but he knew he was right, and if anyone dared to question it, he himself would tear their tongue out... In fact, he had done it once before, with one of the women he was with in a brothel.

That woman had boasted that the prince had chosen her because she was the most beautiful girl in that place, even calling herself more beautiful than the Valyrian pearl, which made Aegon furious. He imposed severe punishment on her for even daring to compare herself with his Jaella.

“I’m glad to hear that” he murmured, placing one of his hands on the younger girl's cheek “That means you've taken everything I've said seriously”

She wanted to answer, but her throat seemed to be completely closed so she simply nodded softly, Aegon smiled even more and, unable to hold back, joined his lips with Jaella's. It had been too long since they had last kissed, but it was clear that there was a difference in the way they had done it then.

This time the kiss was more demanding, more passionate compared to the first one he had given her, Jaella had to search for some air in the middle of the kiss, her lips opened a little and Aegon took advantage of this to force his tongue into his niece's mouth; she was not so expert in the art of kissing due to the lack of a companion, but she tried to keep up with the pace he imposed on her

The prince’s hands were clasped tightly around her waist, gripping her as if she might escape or disappear, and Aegon had been a victim of that in his most pleasant dreams, where, in the end, Jaella always vanished.

He pulled away from her a moment later, only to bring his lips to Jaella’s neck. She was still wearing the dress from that afternoon, the one that exposed her collarbones, a sight that had driven him mad since his arrival. He had wanted to kiss her neck and mark it relentlessly so that anyone who even glimpsed Jaella’s skin would immediately know it belonged to him.

Jaella shivered at the contact of his lips on her skin. It was the first time someone had touched her this way. A sigh escaped her as Aegon began to trace a path of wet kisses from her neck down to the line of her dress, which was low enough to graze the top of her breasts.

"Aegon..."

The way she whispered his name, with a blend of desire and insecurity, made him smile against her skin. He knew this was an unfamiliar path for his niece, and though he wanted to be the first to lead her down it, he was aware of everything it entailed.

The words he had written in all those letters came back to her mind, making her tremble slightly, realizing that there was nothing she could do to escape the situation. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be with Aegon in every possible way, but she feared she might not be good enough for him.

Sensing the tension in her body, Aegon lifted his head and looked directly into her eyes. His hands remained still on her waist, tracing small circles with his thumbs to calm her.

"Shh..."

“You said…”

“...that I would take you?” He asked, and when she nodded, he added, “And I meant it.”

One of his hands moved up to her face, gently caressing it and then tucking the stray locks of hair that had fallen over it. He smiled at her and couldn’t resist the urge to kiss her once more.

“But I’m not going to take you here,” he continued, his voice barely a whisper. Jaella looked at him in confusion. “You’re not a whore or a maid. I don’t want to take you the way I take others. If one day you are to be my wife, I want to know that when you gave yourself to me for the first time, it was of your own will. I want to know that you chose it that way because that’s what you want.”

The princess swallowed heavily, processing the weight of his words. Aegon, whom everyone described as carefree and libertine, was showing her a side that no one else seemed to know. A side that made her feel special but also frightened her, as it implied an emotional responsibility she wasn’t sure she could handle.

“Besides, a mere garden is not what you deserve,” he said, still caressing her face. “Do you trust me?”

Jaella nodded firmly; there was no reason for it to be otherwise. Aegon had never given her a reason not to trust him, and despite all the gossip surrounding the prince, Jaella trusted him completely.

“That’s all I need right now.”

═════𖠁 ═════

“Congratulations, my prince, your performance in combat has improved considerably,” Sir Criston complimented from the ground, defeated by Aegon. “In a few months, you’ll be able to compete formidable against your brother.”

Aemond chuckled, a laugh quickly joined by Harland Arryn, who had recently joined the princes’ training sessions.

“I don’t have a few months,” Aegon complained once Sir Criston had left, not wanting him to hear anything.

“Why are you so anxious to become a good fighter, my prince?” Harland asked with his usual mocking tone.

“Don’t call me that,” Aegon requested with a grimace of annoyance. “We shared a woman at the brothel some time ago.”

Harland laughed, clearly entertained by the anecdotes the prince considered as a sign of closeness between them.

“Aegon wants to win the tournament that will take place in a few days, at Jaella’s name day celebration,” Aemond spoke up, interrupting his brother’s chatter as he didn’t want to hear any more. “To crown her as the Queen of Love and Beauty in front of everyone.”

Young Arryn raised his eyebrows playfully, earning a disapproving glance from Aegon.

“So that’s what this is all about?” Harland asked. Aegon remained silent, but to Harland, it was confirmation. “Don’t you think that might be a little… disrespectful to your betrothed?”

“She’s not my betrothed.”

Aegon was irritated by people referring to that graceless girl as his betrothed, especially since she wasn’t. She was a Tyrell girl his mother had found for him, invited to the tournament as a way to push a match between them; the girl’s family had arrived a couple of weeks earlier because Alicent wanted her son to develop some affinity for her before Jaella’s arrival. This, of course, was not working, as Aegon had refused to even spend a moment in her company.

“And you’re just going to publicly show your disdain for the engagement?” Aemond asked. “What about Lady Laisa’s honor?”

“That’s her name?” Aegon asked with a frown, clearly uninterested. Aemond rolled his eyes. “Lady Laisa’s honor matters little to me, and of course, I won’t be honoring her by crowning her at the tournament.”

“What will Mother say?”

“She’s already said enough,” the elder cut him off with a heavy sigh. “Don’t you think it would be a bit disrespectful not to crown the princess, considering the celebration is in her honor?”

“I think Prince Aegon is right,” Harland agreed, crossing his arms. “It’s well known that Princess Jaella enjoys that kind of attention. We don’t want to provoke a tantrum on such an important day.”

“And couldn’t any of us crown her with that honor?” Aemond seemed determined not to let his brother embarrass their house.

“I’m sure the princess would prefer it to be Prince Aegon who honors her,” Aegon smiled at Harland’s supportive words. The brunette placed a hand on Aemond’s shoulder and continued, “We’ll make sure you’re the one who wins the tournament.”

═════𖠁 ═════

The silver-haired prince withdrew his hand from beneath the skirts of the young Tyrell, glancing around to ensure no one had seen them. The corridor seemed deserted, and he relaxed a little. The girl smiled and pulled him in for a passionate kiss.

“Will you come to my room tonight?” she asked with a mischievous grin.

“If that’s what you want,” he replied, barely smiling.

“This might be the last night we can spend together. After tomorrow, I’ll likely be betrothed to your brother.”

“He doesn’t want to be betrothed to you,” he said coldly. “Why not avoid the drama and change the course of the engagement? I’m sure your father would be pleased with either of us. If you ask him to betroth you to me…”

The girl’s laughter interrupted him, a genuine burst of mirth that irritated Aemond enough to darken his expression.

“I came here to be promised to a future king. Why would I settle for marrying you when I could be the queen of the Seven Kingdoms?”

Aemond was not one to develop strong feelings, let alone romantic ones, but her words had certainly bruised his ego, and the sting in his chest was sharp.

“Aemond the One-Eyed, what would people think of me if I married you?”

“Lady Tyrell has a sharp tongue.”

Aemond immediately turned upon hearing that voice, a voice he hadn’t heard in a good number of years but always remembered consoling him when other children teased him.

“Princess Jaella,” the girl hastily greeted, with a curtsy that Jaella regarded with disdain.

“Quite a bold choice of words,” Jaella criticized, Aemond looked away. “Are you disrespecting my uncle? In my view, you’d be very fortunate to marry him.”

“I only… I’ve been promised to your uncle Aegon, Princess, and I…”

Jaella quickly glanced at Aemond for confirmation, and he shook his head slightly.

“Not yet,” murmured the prince, causing Lady Laisa’s face to flush with anger.

Jaella let out a small laugh that only served to further unsettle the other girl.

“Do you dare to boast a title you don’t yet possess, Lady Tyrell?” Jaella’s laughter became louder, and Lady Laisa’s eyes began to fill with tears. “Perhaps you should remember that a woman’s fate is not always as secure as she might like to think.”

“The Queen said that Prince Aegon and I…”

“It doesn’t matter what the Queen has said,” Jaella interrupted. “If I want it, you’ll never marry him, and if you do, I’ll make sure there isn’t a single peaceful day in your entire marriage. I’ll sleep in your bed, with your husband, and raise your children as my own.”

Laisa couldn’t help but sob, overwhelmed by despair. The princess had made it clear that she not only had the power but also the intention to destroy any hope Laisa might have had for a future with Aegon.

Aemond was clearly surprised by the fierceness with which Jaella, who was usually serene, spoke. He well knew that the princess often reacted abruptly when her family was mentioned or threatened, especially if those matters were related to her favorite uncle.

“I hope my words have been clear,” Jaella said, feigning a smile that contrasted with the devastated expression of the maiden. “Shall we, uncle?”

The prince nodded and, without giving Lady Tyrell a single glance, offered his arm for Jaella to take.

═════𖠁 ═════

“Are you alright?” the princess asked as they arrived at the garden.

Aemond made a barely audible noise as he nodded, feeling suddenly embarrassed that it was Jaella who had come to his rescue as if he couldn’t defend himself.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said seriously, but the Velaryon’s smile didn’t fade.

Jaella, like her mother, used to show her affection by gently holding people’s faces, which she did with Aemond at that moment. No one had ever touched him with such genuine affection. Perhaps his mother did, but her touch wasn’t as gentle as Jaella’s, and the women he had been with had only done so because they were paid.

“Family should look after each other,” she murmured. “If your brother and your mother won’t, then I will.”

A gentle caress on Aemond’s cheek made him sigh and close his eye, feeling momentarily content with that display of affection.

He didn’t say it explicitly, but he decided that he should also defend his niece if the opportunity arose. Although he was supposed to be loyal only to his siblings and mother, Jaella had consoled him many more times and with much more encouraging words, so he had a certain affection for her.

“The gods have been kind to you,” Jaella murmured after a few seconds. “You have a handsome face.”

“Not more handsome than Aegon’s for you, I suppose,” Jaella’s face turned crimson, and Aemond smiled broadly. “I’m just teasing you.”

Jaella let go of his face and gave him a light tap on the chest that made him laugh. It was rare to hear him laugh, but no less pleasant.

“The ladies of the court don’t find me as attractive with this patch, not that it bothers me, of course. But they would surely be horrified if I took it off.”

A wave of regret washed over Jaella as she recalled the reason for the loss of his eye, but she managed to stay calm.

“I would like to see it, if that doesn’t offend you.”

“It doesn’t offend me. I wear the scar with pride; after all, I won Vhagar that day.”

Aemond placed his hands on his face and skillfully removed the patch. Jaella held her breath, bracing herself to see the empty socket she expected, but she was pleasantly surprised when the blue sparkle of a sapphire gleamed beneath her uncle’s eyelids.

The princess’s fingers immediately traveled to Aemond’s face, gently caressing the scar that adorned his features, giving him a more imposing appearance.

“Symeon Star-Eyes,” she whispered, still marveling at the gem. “It’s a story that…”

“I’ve read it.”

The prince was quite surprised. Since Jaella had left King’s Landing, Aegon had been trying to get closer to him, spending several nights reading in his chambers. Among the many tales they had read, one of his favorites was indeed that of Symeon Star-Eyes, with which he had strongly identified after losing his eye.

The fact that Jaella knew the story made him understand why Aegon seemed so enthusiastic when telling it, and the fact that his brother had chosen to share it with him made him feel special and appreciated, something that had been difficult for him to achieve before. Aemond knew how important Jaella was to Aegon and how protective he was of their affairs, so this came as a pleasant surprise to the prince.

There was a moment of silence as Aemond readjusted the patch over his eye. Then Jaella cleared her throat and spoke, trying to bring closure to the matter that had brought them together.

“I won’t tell anyone about Laisa, especially not Aegon.”

“Aegon knows,” he said simply. She looked at him, puzzled.

“I thought he would be a bit more territorial about the woman who will be his wife.”

A burst of laughter escaped Aemond’s lips, causing Jaella to frown, unsure why her uncle found it so amusing.

“Even I, with just one eye, see things more clearly than you, niece. Aegon will not take a wife who isn’t you, and if he were to do so, that poor woman would never know what it’s like to be respected by her husband.”

“Do you think Aegon would go against his mother’s wishes?”

“Aegon has never really cared about anything except for you, of course. Do you think he would be willing to fight for an honor that means so little to him when he could fight for you, who seems to be the only anchor he clings to?”

She wasn’t sure if it was good or bad, but she adored Aegon, and as long as he was willing to challenge anything for her, Jaella could only repay him with the same level of loyalty.

═════𖠁 ═════

The atmosphere in the arena was filled with joy, the cheers deafening the ears of those present, but their spirits remained undiminished.

In the royal box sat the Targaryen family, accompanied by some of their most esteemed guests, including Laisa Tyrell, dressed in the green and gold colors of House Hightower. Rhaenyra’s family wore the characteristic black and red, except for Jaella and Jacaerys, who wore precious blue garments given to them by their grandfather in tribute to House Velaryon.

On the lapels of Jacaerys’s suit were embroidered silhouettes of Vermax and Dreamfyre with beautiful silver thread, symbolizing his union with Helaena. Jaella also wore an embroidered bodice, adorned with pearls and symbolic figures of those close to her, including, to the surprise of many, the beautiful golden embroidery of Sunfyre’s silhouette. This enraged the queen when she saw it and earned Laisa a few apologies from her.

Jaella couldn’t care less about the presence of the young Tyrell, knowing with certainty that no one was paying attention to her and that all focus was on her and her brother.

“What will they do first?” the young Velaryon whispered, leaning toward Jacaerys, who was sitting next to her.

“The jousts.”

Jaella made a face, as she had never been a fan of those violent games. Although she knew they were tradition, they always worried her more than entertained her.

“Do you know who will be participating?” asked Helaena, who was sitting on the other side of Jacaerys. Jaella shook her head slightly.

“My two brothers and Harland Arryn. They’ve been training quite a lot.”

The fact that Aegon would be participating filled her with a mix of emotions ranging from worry and pride to nervousness and excitement.

The knights were announced, and Daemon watched with amusement as his stepdaughter adjusted herself to get a better view of the young prince. He extended his mockery by glancing at Alicent while grinning unabashedly.

The first joust was announced, between Prince Aemond and a knight of House Baratheon. The Targaryen prince approached the royal box with his lance in hand and his helmet resting on his lap.

“I would like to request the favor of Lady Laisa,” he exclaimed. “Surely the goodwill of my future sister will help me win these games.”

Alicent’s face flushed, as it wasn’t supposed to be Aemond who made that request. The young Tyrell looked at the queen for a few seconds and didn’t rise until she nodded.

“Good luck, my prince,” she said, sliding the small garland of foliage around his lance.

Laisa’s gaze shifted to Aegon, hoping that he might at least be looking at her inquisitively, but the eyes of Alicent’s eldest son were fixed on someone else.

The combat was exciting, showcasing the prince Aemond’s great skills. Jaella and Helaena clapped enthusiastically when he was declared the winner. Alicent also looked proud, while lady Laisa seemed uninterested in the matter.

“Prince Aegon of House Targaryen will choose his opponent!” they announced.

Jaella sat almost at the edge of her seat, feeling a knot form in her stomach due to nervousness.

Alicent was also nervous, causing her to damage the skin of her fingers. Aemond had asked for the favor of his brother’s future bride, and she feared that Aegon might ask for Jaella’s favor. That would only earn them the resentment of the Tyrells, which they did not need. However, what Aegon did was even worse, for once he was at the foot of the royal tribune, he did not stand before Jaella but before her mother.

“I wish for the favor of my sister, Princess Rhaenyra, to win this tournament.”

The murmurs were immediate, and the princess seemed as surprised as anyone around her. Alicent wanted to get up and leave, feeling the penetrating gaze of her own father on her back, which contrasted with the bright smile that adorned the decrepit face of King Viserys.

Rhaenyra smiled widely, immediately rising to take one of the floral crowns. Aegon gave a slight nod when their eyes met.

“May the light of the warrior be with you in this contest, brother,” she said, still smiling as she slid the crown around his lance.

The crowd erupted in exclamations of joy. This was the first time Princess Rhaenyra referred to Aegon as her brother and not as her half-brother, which was seen by outsiders as a sign of goodwill and reconciliation between the houses. However, those closer to the situation knew that things were not as simple as they seemed.

And Alicent was sure that this simple act would cost her dearly someday.

═════𖠁 ═════

Several more matches took place as the afternoon progressed. Jaella had given her favor to the young Arryn, whom she saw was blessed by the gods with an incredible physical appearance and the gift of excelling in the art of combat. However, despite several knights standing out throughout the tournament, it was Prince Aegon who was declared the winner.

Alicent, whose irritation had lessened over the course of the event, smiled softly at Laisa, silently reminding her of what she had said earlier that morning. The queen had assured her that Aegon would crown her as queen of love and beauty if he was chosen as the victor, and she had said this with such certainty because her own son had told her so.

Aegon had the tiara brought out with which he would crown the maiden. Usually, it was a beautiful crown of flowers, but for this occasion, and aiming to irritate the honoree, Alicent had commissioned a fine silver tiara with intricate patterns resembling branches and leaves on the sides, joined at the front by a crescent moon adorned with a single precious stone.

The crowd watched with anticipation as Aegon, with the tiara in hand, made his way towards the tribune. Once there, he flashed everyone a bright smile and then approached the edge of the platform.

“I want to give this tiara to the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms, whom someday I will take as my legitimate wife and with whom I am destined to share my life.”

Aegon turned, looking at his mother and the young Tyrell, both of whom wore satisfied smiles. In the girl's eyes, there was a singular sparkle that the prince categorized as one full of hope and excitement. The silver-haired prince gave an almost awkward bow to his mother and then passed by, heading directly to Jaella's seat.

The heart of the young Velaryon quickened as she watched her uncle walk decisively towards her. She knew that this gesture could mean a great deal to everyone present, both in negative and positive ways, but that thought took a back seat as her enthusiasm was much greater than her concern.

With a firm gesture, Aegon lifted the delicate silver tiara and placed it on Jaella’s head. The attendees erupted in jubilant exclamations that the princess barely heard, as her attention was solely focused on Aegon, who smiled with enthusiasm as he finally crowned her.

The prince took her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of it, his eyes still locked on Jaella’s.

When he pulled away from her, Aegon, for the first time, did not search for his mother with his gaze. Instead, his attention focused on Rhaenyra and Daemon.

His sister, who was observing the act with a mixture of surprise and emotion, met Aegon's steady gaze. Her expression softened into a smile that seemed to hold both pride and an unspoken promise. Daemon, for his part, gave the young prince a satisfied smile while applauding the bravery of his nephew. A subtle nod was all that the younger prince needed to know he had done the right thing.

This gesture from Aegon was more than just a declaration of love; it was an affirmation of his will, one that would resonate in the days to come.