#eve perfume sets

[whorekneecentral]

Only The Best For You

Kimi Raikkonen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: dad's best friend!kimi, reader is 20/21 - reader is old enough to make her own decisions, your dad isn't pleased with the gift, one mention of alcohol and one mention of death, sexual tension, kinda power imbalance, kimi gives into the intrusive thoughts, nipple play, fingering for like 0.2 seconds, one use of the word 'daddy' in a sexual way, penetrative sex (p in v), gagging, finger sucking, 'whore' used in a sexual/degrading term.

Word Count: 2,400

Author's Note: for all my dad best friend freaks and the kimi whores, this one's for you <3 -- also ignore that it's gucci in the pic but it's something different in the fic loool I couldn't find a different pic I liked.

merry smutmas series

--

Kimi spends the holidays with his old friends. He doesn’t forget you; bringing you exactly what you had been wishing for and you make sure to thank him.. properly.

An old L/N family tradition.

Since you were a child, your parents and grandparents allowed you to open one gift from them on Christmas eve, letting you enjoy the magic of Christmas a few hours early.

You were grown up now, in college and your grandparents had sadly passed on but your parents kept the tradition going. You had come home for Christmas break and it was Christmas Eve. Your parents have just finished dinner and you have moved to the living room.

It was yourself, your parents and your dad's best friend, Kimi. You had known Kimi your whole life practically but he was always away racing so you never saw much of him until lately, now that he's officially retired - for good this time.

"Shall we open gifts?" Your father asks, walking into the living room. He passed a glass of what looks like whiskey to Kimi, who was next to you, before sitting beside your mother.

She looks over at her husband. "Honey, isn't she too grown for that?"

Your father rolls his eyes, shaking his head. "It's a family tradition, now hush. Go pick a present."

Your mum picks first, picking one from your father that just so happened to be the new perfume she wanted. Your father was next and he picked out one from you. It's a story book he used to read to you as a kid, you had written all of your favourite memories of the two of you inside of it. You made him cry, both you and Kimi laughing about that.

"Go ahead, sweetheart." Your father nods towards the tree, you move from the couch to the floor, kneeling in front of the tree to pick out a gift.

A gift sticks out to you; red wrapping paper with little elves of it and your name written in cursive across the front of it. You pick it up, shaking it a bit to see what was in it.

It felt hard, as if it was a box. You looked towards your parents, "is it from you guys?"

Your dad looks towards your mom; she took care of all of the holiday shopping. The woman shakes her head, "it's not from us, sweetie."

The gift on your lap when you glance over your shoulder at Kimi. He gives you a small smile, so small you almost miss it.

He nods towards the gift, waiting for you to open it. You rip the wrapping paper very carefully, revealing the red box underneath; the gold lettering was cursive - Cartier.

Your jaw was already dropping, looking back at the man. "You didn't," you say and he nods again, waiting for you to open the box to see what was inside.

"Kimi, what did you do?" Your mother asks, looking over at your father. He was never one for brands or jewellery, he didn't realize that buying something there automatically was an expensive purchase.

Lifting the cover carefully, the velvet black fabric inside the box held a white gold chain, blue sapphires set along the entire thing.

If your jaw wasn't already on the floor, it would be now. "Kimi!" You turned to face the man, setting the box on the couch carefully. "You did not!"

"I did," he nods. He's always been a man of very few words; more of an action rather than words type of guy.

"What is it?" Your father asks and you hand the red box over to him for him to see.

He shows your mother as he holds the box, he doesn't realize that he's holding a little over €40,000 in his hands at the moment. "Oh Kimi, it's beautiful." Your mother gushes, handing it back over to you.

You were still on the floor, admiring the necklace in the box. "Well, turn around." Kimi says and you do, sitting just between his legs.

He reaches over to take the box from you and carefully takes the chain out of its box before you lift your hair. Kimi leans forwards and you can feel his fingers brush against your skin and his breath on your shoulders when he loops it around your neck and hooks the clasp.

"It looks gorgeous on you, darling." Your mom says, smiling at you.

Your phone's in one hand and your other hand gently touches the chain, straightening it as you admired how it looked on you. "Kimi, this is too much. It's so expensive." You whisper to him and he shrugs.

"How expensive are we talking?" Your father finally speaks, looking over at his friend.

Kimi answers nonchalantly; "Like.. €40,000."

Your father instantly sits up, his jaw hanging open. "What?! Kimi, are you out of your mind?"

"Please," he looks over at his friend in disapproval. His hand rests on your shoulder, his thumb passing over your soft skin. "She's a good girl, she deserves it."

You can't help but shift a bit when he calls you a good girl, the words hitting you right where you shouldn't. It was wrong, he was your father's friend and you were.. well, you were attracted to him. You couldn't deny it; Kimi was an attractive man and despite his lack of words, he was very charming.

"Y/n, say thank you. You can't not say it when he's spent so much." Your father tells you, and you turn around to face Kimi.

"Thank you, Kimi," you smiled at him, sitting on your knees when you reached up to give the man a hug. His arms wrapped around you, his warm hand pressed to your back. "You're welcome, angel."

Another nickname that hits you in all the wrong places.

--

As the night goes on, your parents head up for bed as do you. Kimi was the last one to bed from your understanding and as the house grew quiet, you tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

You find yourself sat on your bed, pjs on - a tank top and a pair of shorts with a €40,000 chain around your neck.

It was nearing 3am, the witching hours as your mum says. You find yourself getting up and heading downstairs. The initial thought was to go to the kitchen and get a glass of water but you got side tracked when you see a light coming from Kimi's room.

You knock, peeking around the space left between the door frame and the actual door. "Come in," he waves to you and you step in, shutting the doors behind you. The TV was on, a rerun of some show you couldn't quite place was on.

"What are you doing up?" He asks, glancing at his phone to check the time. "Do you know how late it is?"

"I couldn't sleep," you tell him, looking over at the TV. "Can I join you?"

He shrugs, nodding towards the empty space next to him. You quietly make your way over, sitting next to him on the bed. Kimi don't miss the way your shorts hike up when you crawl over to the empty spot; it's so wrong for him to be looking at you like that but can you blame the man? You were gorgeous and you were in his bed after all.

The two of you sit quietly, watching as the show rolls on into another episode. You unconsciously play with the chain, shifting it back and forth slowly.

Kimi looks over at you, smiling to himself; you were the picture of beauty.

"You're staring," you mumble, glancing at him. He smiles, like actually smiles. "You're beautiful."

Your cheeks are red, you hope that the light coming from the tv isn't bright enough for him to realize that just yet.

"It looks good on you," he says, "like it was made for you."

"Blue has always been my favourite colour." You smiled, glancing down at the chain. "Did you pick it yourself?"

He nods, "I saw it and thought of you, I figured you'd like it."

"I do, very much." You look over at him, Kimi smiles at you and your hand shifts from your thigh to his, rubbing along it softly. Kimi's brows furrow ever so slightly. He doesn't say anything, hoping that you'd stop if he ignores it.

You were persistent.

Your hand travels higher, about to rub over the ever so evident bulge in his shorts but Kimi catches your hand, holding your wrist. "We can't, y/n."

"Why not?"

"It's wrong," he whispers, glancing at the door - you weren't sure if he wanted you to leave or if he was catching to see if it was locked. You wiggle your hand from his grasp, Kimi lets out a small breath of relief; see, the man was stupid enough to think you were stopping.

You didn't stop. Instead, you got on his lap, straddling him with your hands on his shoulders. Kimi's hand rests on your lower back as he looks at you.

"Let me thank you properly," you whisper, lips ghosting over his.

Kimi reaches up, his lips pressed to yours but he's yet to kiss you. "You don't have too."

"I want to.. I want you," you mumbled, finally kissing the man. Your hand cupping his jaw, Kimi's hand slips under the tank top you had on and slides up your back to undo your bra but finds you don't have one on.

Kimi pushes the straps of your tank top down off your shoulders. You sat comfortably on his lap, letting him have his way with you and the man wanted one thing. He leans forward, arms wrapped around you as his lips wrap around your nipple.

“Kimi, fuck- please.” You mumble, your hand tangled in his blonde hair, tugging on it. As such as you loved the attention, you needed him.

He glances up at you, watching as your eyes fluttered shut. He groans when you pull on his hair a little harder but what's a little pain when he's making you feel good?

It was heavy, heated.

His hands on your body, pulling you over and onto him. You were perched on his lap, Kimi's hands on your ass when he kissed you again.

Not a word is spoken between the two of you and what little clothes you had on was gathered in a pile on the floor when he rolls you two over. You were flat on your back with Kimi settled between your legs.

“Please,” your hand rested on his jaw, “daddy, please.”

The pet name makes his cock twitch; it's sinful, so sinful in so many ways but he couldn't care less. You drove him mad.

His hand slips between the two of you, his fingers rubbing slow circles on your clit. Your hips lift, wanting more from him.

Kimi’s hand wandered a little lower, a finger pushed in slowly. He can feel how wet you are, wrapped around his finger and he smiles.

He moves his finger slowly, curling it. He takes pleasure in watching you, seeing how your face twists and how your body reacts to his touch.

"Please," you whimpered, "don't make me wait."

Kimi can't bring himself to say no to you.

He sits, pushing his shorts down and you get the hint, getting on top of him. Your hands grip on his shoulders, balancing yourself. Your knees on either side of his lap, Kimi's hand reaches under you to help you, the tip of his cock brushing against your clit, making your hip shift forward a bit. His free hand on your hip as you sink down onto him, his name tumbling from your lips.

You take a moment to get used to the feeling, your eyes fluttering shut as he rubs along your lower back, leaning into you to kiss down your neck.

You rock your hips forward and Kimi's head drops back, his eyes now closed. “Fuck, you’re perfect.” His hand pats your hip, “made just for me.” He tells you, your lips now on his neck - a trail of marks and sloppy kisses being left along his neck.

He pulls one of your legs up forward, pulling you down further. “Fuck,” you breathe, his thrusts faster and harder. How you wished you could scream his name right now. Kimi's hand drops between the two of you, rubbing your clit.

Your head falls back, manicured nails digging into his pale skin when he hits the spot he was looking for. He watches as you bounce on his lap, the sapphires around your neck bouncing in rhythm with you. His fingers that were previous on your clit now shoved into your mouth to muffle the sounds tumbling from your lips.

Your brows furrowed, an excited look on your face despite it all. You can feel his cock twitch in you, his lips next to your ear when he leans in.

"You've got to be quiet, angel. Wouldn't want them to catch you being a whore for me, hm?

You mumble something along an okay, your hips bucking, telling him you want more. Your tongue laps around his fingers, Kimi watches as you suck on them. There's a wicked smile on his face, his hips lifting to meet you halfway.

He lets you take over, setting the pace and using him for your own pleasure. Kimi leans forward as his lips wrap around your nipple. His tongue lapped over your nipple, biting on it softy; just enough to get you to arch your back, pushing into him.

“Come on darling,” he mumbles against your skin, now kissing up to your collarbone. Kimi's hand behind your neck to pull you down for a kiss. “Want you to cum for me.”

His arms wrap around you when you drop against him, your face buried against his shoulder, biting down to muffle the sounds. “Good girl,” he hums, rubbing your back.

Your heart beats out of your chest as you catch your breath. Kimi smiles, kissing along your shoulder. "Feel good?" He asks and you mumble something, your head resting on his shoulder.

"I take it I should spoil you more often, hm?" He chuckles, making you smile when you sit up. Kimi straightens your necklace, kissing your chin.

You shake your head and smile. "Don't have to spoil me for me to do that."

Kimi smiles at you, giving you a kiss. "Merry Christmas, y/n."

"Merry Christmas, Kimi."

--

taglist:  @nosugarallspice @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16 @books-and-netflix-pls @wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @forza55 @norrisleclercf1 @allalngthewtchtower @therealcap @burningcupcakefire @stargirl36 @brettlorenzi3 @guiseppetsunoda @magnummagnussen @flippingmyshit @savrose129 @lovelytsunoda @irda12-blog @dhhdhsiavdhaj @slytheringirlthatkillpeople @f1lovers22 @toomuchdelusion @eviethetheatrefreak @faye2029 @lillians-world-is-f1 @chalando1604 @lenaxwbr  @im-obsessed @potashiuhm @lcxlerc16 @enjoythebutterflies3 @lillyfootballsworld @micksmidnights @mashtonbunny @chrlsleclerc @logischeroktopus

[cardigan-ns]

NOW ITS ALL HALLOWS EVE

𓉸 Father Charlie Mayhew x Mortician!Reader

𓉸 Summary - It’s the day before Halloween, his favourite holiday, he has a visit from death and makes you sympathise with his darkened ways.

He walked down the foggy cobblestones street, as plenty of people passed him, families with their kids in dress up, elderly folk heading into the church to pray and students exiting the university for their trips home. “Evening, Father, where are you headed at this hour?” A man erupted, he was a regular sinner, always in the church for confessions to ease his guilt and nothing more. “I’m off to get a brew.” He spoke rather chipper, he held himself rather high as he spoke, his hands intertwined together over his a stomach. The man waves him a good bye with a smile, “Enjoy yourself, don’t stay out too late though, the killers still out there.” Father Mayhew gave a fake laugh through gritted teeth and quickly turned it to a face of distain as the man left his view. “Fucking malevolent piece of shit.” He muttered to himself as he walked down a set of stoned steps painted with fallen orange leaves.

He pushed open the mahogany doors of the church, and made himself greeted by the eyes of the parishioners and the lady in black by the alter. She looks magnificent and Father Mayhew loved smelling the scent of her perfume, it counteracted with the woeful mourns of the grieving as she preserves the body from which they weep.

“Ah, Miss Jones.” Father Mayhew charms as he smiled to you, taking the memorial card you handed him. “Agnes Berthel.” Charlie sighs, she was a devoted Christian woman, taken by her old age, and her spite as Charlie figured. “She will be missed.” You looked at the priest, annoyed with him, not because of what happened just now, but because it keeps happening, you’ve been here 6 times this past week for 11 different deaths, there’s been that many that you needed to double up the burial times.

“Where were you?” You asked as it seemed odd he wasn’t in the convent getting ready for the funeral. He looked at you as if you had some gumption questioning his whereabouts but he just smiled. “I was on a stroll, getting a cup of cocoa, and enjoying the windy weather. Is that such a bad thing?” You rolled your eyes at his taunt and you took a look at the body in the casket, flowers gracing the coffin, and a few people already settled into the pews, ready to hear her send off to heaven. “It’s not a bad thing if you don’t have a funeral to speak at.” You bit back. You’ve known Father Mayhew long enough to know he wasn’t the average priest, he was a snarky, know-it all who assumed he knew faith better than anybody else. He has hopes for this church and he’d stop at nothing to fulfil it.

“I’ll have you know that I have worked hard to build up a relationship with each person in this community, and I’ll be damned if I let you question me once more.” He spoke behind you, over your shoulder, he then moved his arm over you and fixed the position of the coffin, moving it ever so slightly. “Wouldn’t want her four sons to be disgusted at the placement of this thing, now, would we?” He’s sickening to hear but also you craved being corrected by him, you knew he didn’t know everything but you liked when he made himself seem of higher intelligence at you for your own job. Maybe it’s because of his occupation, or maybe it’s just his face.

He took his stance on the alter now, behind the podium, fixing the mic as it fit the level of his face and he sighed before he began. “May everyone be seated as we begin this service.” He lowered his hands, ushering everyone to rest on the wooden bench. He softly moved his head as he looked at you, his face firm, telling you to swallow your pride and take a seat for the mourners. You sat by the husband of the deceased. He reached his hand out to hold yours for support and you did so. For some reason, when Charlie saw this a ripple of distain ran through his very core.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to mourn the passing of Agnes Berthel, loving mother, wife, sister, and devoted Catholic woman.” Father Mayhew had everyone’s attention, and they depended on him to make this a safe space without fear of it being distasteful. Little did they know of the reasoning there’s been a but-load of deaths recently. He’s been on a spree, obviously to get people into the church, there’s really been a lack of worship nowadays and he needed to scare people into believing in his lord.

As you listened to him talk, you noticed the tacky red boots he wore, and remembered a saying. About how the red symbolises the blood you step on or something, your mind was running amuck you couldn’t get the words in your brain to function. But he was guilty of something, going off of colour alone.

The service ended, the woman was buried. And your mind was still not put to ease. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of disturbance looming over Father Mayhew. “Miss Jones?” He called over to you from the placement of biscuits and coffee in the church function room. “Uh, yes?” You broke out of your conspiracy and his smile brought you back to hypnosis. “Your handbag.” He handed it over to you tauntingly, pulling it back everytime you tried to grab it. “Ah ah ah, not so fast.” He teased you with a cocky smile. You glared at him and then his hand reached into the bag to show all the memorial cards throughout the past sermons that have happened this week. “A little morbid, don’t you think?” He asked as he looked at it with fake confusion, he was the real sick one.

“It’s evidence.” You spoke. So assured in your word, making the priests brows spike up, and his mouth wrinkle in mocked disturbance. “God you’re more insane than I thought.” He was really one to talk, he’d have had to rifle through your handbag to find those in the first place, to then present them to you as if it was the first he’s seen them. “It’s proof that there’s been an over excessive amount of deaths recently.” You crossed your arms with a cup of coffee in your hand, the styrofoam almost crumbling in your firm grip.

Father Mayhew just laughed, nodding as if he had something smart to say. “And you think some pity cards are going to bring them back?” He huffed. “They’re dead, and they must’ve died for a reason. God’s plan.” He kissed his fingers and put them to the air, he’s a devilish man. You scowled at the man, as imperfect and unholy as anything you’ve ever seen. “It’s not easy, you know, seeing the state some of these bodies are in. Then having to conduct a post-mortem, seeing the horrific ways in which they died. You’d have a heart attack if you saw the rawness they come to my funeral home in.” He nodded along in fake sympathy, knowing he’s the one that made the bodies that very way, all on purpose too, he needed the community to see just how disturbed their minds were in the physical realm. Bring them to God’s house and let them find sanctity once more.

“Let’s suppose you’re right. You can’t stop this killer. He doesn’t want to be stopped.” Father Mayhew stuck the memorial cards back in your bag before dropping it on the floor purposely. Your eyes shot up at him in a glare, he really was a piece of work, like a child throwing a tantrum. Sickening man. “That’s why the police are solving it. To take this guy down.” Father Mayhew then shook his head and stood very close by your side, moving a strand of your hair behind your ear. “But think of it this way, this killer is helping you out.” He whispered, with a small sigh, wishing you’d just understand him. “You’ve made more money this week than you would in an entire year, correct?” You wondered where he was getting at and finally, he dropped the bomb, money. Greed. Financial pride. “Greed is a sin, father. You know this. Don’t tell me you’re okay with the greed of the killer.” Father Mayhew gave a low chuckle at your reasoning for your distain for the murders. “All I’m saying is, it’s getting you paid, bringing more people to church, and allowing the police to work overtime and hopefully get Christmas off. This man is helping the dutiful workers of our city, is he not?” He was convincing enough to not be suspected, that’s for sure, he even had you nodding along and agreeing with him. What disgusting ways of manipulation he has.

“There you go, that was easy, wasn’t it, listening to me.” He smiled, and knelt down to the carpeted floor, fixing the items back into your bag and handing it to you from his knelt position. You gladly took it, glad he’d wised up and got on his hands and knees and retrieved what was rightfully yours. “I’ll keep that in mind, father.” You smiled and had an idea, he forgot to lift up the compact mirror of yours that was on the floor, as he was about to lift it, then your heel impacted his hand, he winced but didn’t make a yelp. His face turned to look up at yours, he bit his lip slightly in pain. “Not so fun when you’re the one in pain.” You gave one last push before leaving him be, you bend over and grabbed the mirror, his eyes scanned over your body and how the trousers you wore hugged you in the most magnetic way. Then he had a riveting thought, tonight he’s killing your boss, then you’ll get promoted and maybe visit him more often.

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ ii ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: not beta-read. not edited. here's part 2 folks. part 3 is on the works now. did i write this fic instead of studying for my important quiz tomorrow? yes, yes i did. pls pray for my score.

masterlist.

For Christmas in 2019, Max has gotten you an apartment near his in Monaco. It is a loft apartment good for one on the 8th floor, a building away from where Daniel and Max lived. Originally, he wants to get you the unit a floor below his. You decline quickly, insisting that you are very fine with rooming with Julia and Kendall, who are both members of the Red Bull PR team whom you have gotten close with since your first year working with Red Bull. Max may have beef with the PR team for making him do a lot of embarrassing shit for the views but you're besties with most of them and actually thank them for making Max suffer through PR stuff because you cannot afford therapy and watching Max suffer through PR-related activities is a good form of free therapy. Also, Monaco apartments are fucking expensive. Red Bull might be paying you well but not well enough to afford an apartment in a country as expensive as Monaco.

“I want you close,” he tells you. If you did not know any better, you'd have butterflies fluttering in your intestines right about that moment. Sometimes, Max utter the most heart-fluttering of nonsense without meaning to. It causes your heart to stutter more times than you would like to admit.

“Well, I don't want you close.”

Max will never ever win an argument with you. He knows that. You know that. The best he can do is come to a compromise, a compromise that is usually tailored to suit whatever you want.

So you got that small loft apartment a building away, good for one person only. It's easy to clean and it's cheap, Max already said that, which makes you happy because you can set a payment plan for that. An apartment as a Christmas gift is already too much, borderline giving you a heart attack already. Rich people spending their money give you, a person of the middle class folks, heart attacks. Why can't Max be normal and give you a normal gift? A bracelet? A bag? You’ll even accept it if he gave you a slice of cheesecake. Not even your parents can buy you an apartment.

It has only been three years since the keys are passed on to your ownership and people say three years is enough time for a person to make a place home. But your apartment doesn't even feel like home, only a place you’ll sleep in if you happen to be in Monaco for the evening.

Home is that humble, two-storey house painted in red and yellow in Lynnwood Avenue, Vista Del Pueblo, Austin, a total picture of a picket fence dream. Home is Abuelo's old farmhouse in El Paso where you spent your childhood riding horses and driving ATVs across the dusty dry earth. Home is the retro milkshake place owned by the sweet old couple that has been in the neighborhood longer than your entire existence. Home is the tree-lined streets where you walked the family senior dog, Niko. Home is the Austin Fire House, your Dad’s workplace that you visited a handful of times back when you were a child to deliver cookies that your Abuela baked so your Dad could share it with his co-workers. Home is your mom’s clinic in the middle of downtown, always smelling like eugenol, disinfectant, formaldehyde, and her perfume. Home is not glitz and gold and glamor and cash cash cash. Home is not seeing wealthy people left and right. Home is not Monaco.

And it is not like you stayed long in your place either. You're always off traveling around the world with the Red Bull team and accompanying Max wherever he needs your presence. You don't even spend your breaks in that apartment because you immediately fly home to your family once a break is graciously given to you before flying off again to watch Max collect trophy after trophy.

Six days from now, you're going to be flying off to Texas. That means you have six days—less than six days actually—to pack all your crayons and go. Of course you're going to pack up the day before you leave. Doing shit last minute makes your life exciting, and it's not like you had a lot of shit to pack anyway. All your belongings can be tucked into a total of three suitcases. Three years worth of belongings in three suitcases.

you: you doin good there?

Max has been holing himself up in his penthouse since your arrival from Abu Dhabi, probably dealing with his breakup with Kelly. A shame, really. You thought the two looked good together. (Do they really? the asshole part of your brain thinks.)

And P. Thank God for that child’s existence. You hate children but P is an exception. P brings the best out of Max. Max has gotten the chance to act as the father he never had. It's heartwarming, to be honest.

him: not really no

him: can you bring me coffee

you: on it champ

Fifteen minutes later, you’re knocking on the gigantic double doors of his penthouse, a tall styro cup of espresso from that cute café two streets down and a slice of blueberry cheesecake because you’re thoughtful enough to buy him his favorite cake. You experienced a breakup before. A cake and an icecream work wonders when it came to healing broken hearts.

“You're fast,” he immediately says after opening the door. You kind of expect that he’d look worse, snotty and messy and looking like he ran from hell and back. But no, he looks……fine? His sweater and shorts look absolutely neat and comfortable and dry of snot. His hair is a little fluffy from lying on his bed but not too messy. He doesn't even look like he was crying. No red-rimmed eyes. No red nose.

You fake gasp, putting a hand on your chest for additional dramatic effect, “The fastest racer in F1 callin’ me fast. Truly honored.”

A smile plays on his lips, sidestepping and beckoning you in.

You frequently come by Max’s home, for work purposes of course, but you still cannot help but be amazed by the enormity of it every time you enter. Max’s penthouse is twenty times bigger than the apartment you currently live in. One man and a big house—it must be very lonely now that P and Kelly are no longer around. Now, you’re even more worried about what will happen the moment you go back to Texas.

Oh… You still haven't told him yet.

“Coffee,” you hand him the warm styro cup to which he accepts gratefully. He utters his thanks, taking a whiff before sipping, letting out a pleasured moan.

You make your way to his gigantic kitchen, navigating your way through his cabinets in search of a plate and a fork. You slide the cheesecake on the plate towards Max, who followed you to the kitchen and sat on the empty stool in the kitchen counter.

“Thank you,” he says, picking up the fork and taking a bite. He glances at your feet, eyes trained on your YSL. The obnoxious sound of the heels clicking against the floor as you walk probably is the one that caught his attention.

“You know, you've been wearing the same shoes since 2019.”

Points for Max for noticing. These YSL Opyum heels are the first luxury items you bought for yourself after saving for three years to buy one pair. You saw a rich international student wear it once back in university and you liked how sophisticated it looked compared to all the pairs of converse or platform boots you owned. So you made it your life’s goal to own one. In 2019, after doing tons of part time jobs in university and working with Red Bull for a whole year, you managed to buy yourself one on your birthday and you’d been wearing them to work ever since.

Your regular work uniform consists of a Red Bull polo shirt, a pencil or a slit skirt, and that specific pair of heels. Around 2021, you bought another pair to replace the old one because the old one broke. And 2022 again.

“What's wrong with ‘em?” you ask, brows furrowing as you followed his train of sight. Your heels might be a year old already but they still look fine.

Max blinks, “No, there's nothing wrong. Just…Do you think you would want to wear some other design?”

“No,” is your reply. “I like ‘em just the way they are.”

“Okay.”

Your conversation drifts into something else as Max finishes his coffee and cake. You spend the rest of the day in Max’s penthouse, lying on his plush couch while a slasher movie from the 2000s played on his wide TV. He has given you access on his Netflix account so you abused it to your heart’s content because you don't even have. a Netflix subscription. You can absolutely afford one, you just choose not to. You have opted in using your phone mid-movie because the movie is beginning to get real scary but you do not want Max to think you're a coward so you acted like you're disinterested instead.

“Oh look, Charles is also back in Monaco. Do you want to hang out together?” you nudge Max with your foot, who swats it away from him, face contorting in disgust. You show him the post on Charles private IG—yes, you were mutuals in each other's private IG because whoever is friends with Max was friends with you by extension—on your phone.

“Stop makin’ that face, my feet are nice.”

Your toenails are a glorious red now. Ferrari red actually and they suit you better than the Red Bull red. Huh, maybe you should have considered applying for Ferrari instead of Renault in 2018.

“No, it isn't.”

You roll your eyes, pulling it away from him and sitting up, “Do you want me to schedule you a dinner with Charles? You might need the bro time, you know? Dad said bro times are also important, but not as important as family time, of course. My bro broke up with his sweetheart back when I was still in uni and his best buds were the reason he was back up in tippy top shape by the end of the week.”

Max stares at you blankly, “I think I understand the words individually but not the sentence entirely. I don't know if it's the accent or you Americans just have a strange way of structuring your sentences.”

“Point is, hang out with a friend because a friend can help you move on from a pussy.”

Max hurls a throw pillow at your direction, which you luckily avoided thanks to your non-racer level but still considerably good reaction time, but unfortunately, this action causes your center of gravity to shift and before you know it, you're falling from the couch. Unconsciously, you grab Max but then Max doesn't expect that you’ll grab him so now, you’re both falling off the couch and onto the floor.

You groan.

“Fuckin’ ass, man. That was uncalled for.”

He flips you off.

Nevertheless, Max ends up following your advice though and calls Charles to hang out the next day. Lestappen fans should be thanking you on Twitter the next day for bringing those two together on an off-day in Monaco. Maybe they'll hang out and eat together in a restaurant? Maybe they'll go on a yacht picnic?

Except Max sends you a message at high noon.

him: sos

you: is your kitchen burning

him: no

him: but this is still an emergency and you need to come quick

him: he’s with his girlfriend and i don’t want to thirdwheel

you: succ it up

him: you can’t do this to me

him: i just got my heart broken in abu dhabi

you: where are you

him: home

him: i also need help in cooking

Charles is the one who answers the door when you knock. He looks genuinely surprised when he sees you and you deduce that Max hasn't told him that you're coming over.

“Babe, who’s that?” you hear Alex’s voice behind Charles and you light up immediately, quickly moving past Charles to throw your hands around the sweet young woman.

“Alex!” Alexandra laughs and hugs you back. The sound of her laughter is as pretty as she and God definitely has favorites because why did he sculpt this twenty-one year old like the daughter of the Aphrodite while you look like you were born from one of Hephaestus’ sperm that lost the gene pool contest? The world is unfair. You always get the short end of the stick, may it be career-wise or appearance-wise, and you can't even bring your personality to the table because normally, without the whole act of professionalism and sophistication you put on, you act like an extroverted American frat boy on a good day and a sassy drag queen slash war freak on a bad day so yeah, you guess that's the short end of the stick, too.

“Seriously?” you look up and saw Max holding a frying pan, staring at you unimpressed. You roll your eyes and slowly pull away from the hug, gaze returning to Alexandra.

“How’ve you been, sweetie? Been a while since I last saw you.”

You didn't get a chance to talk to her in Abu Dhabi and in Las Vegas.

“Good,” she replies, smiling sweetly and ugh, you want to pinch her cheeks so bad. But Charles is pulling you away from Alexandra before you can do so.

“No, no, she is mine, yours is right over there,” Charles says, pointing at Max, who's still standing there in the corner. “Go on. Shoo.”

You roll your eyes before walking up to Max, “‘Sup?”

Max raises a brow at you, “So Charles’ girlfriend gets a hug and I get a sup?”

“Well, she's Alexandra Saint Mleux and you’re just….” you look him up and down. “Nevermind, what you trynna cook?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“I thought you said you were cooking.”

“I said I needed help with cooking.”

Your eyes narrow into slits, “You’re going to let me do the cooking, aren't you?”

“You know that pasta you made in September that you said was your mother’s recipe?”

A sigh escapes your lips as you roll the sleeves of your button-up to your elbows and power-walked your way to the kitchen, the sound of your YSL heels clicking against the floor bouncing against the walls of Max’s kitchen.

Lunch goes great. Charles and Alexandra love your cooking. Max has even asked for seconds. Good to know that he's eating well. Somewhere down the line, champagne is served even though it’s mid-afternoon and the four of you're sitting in Max’s balcony, staring at Monaco scape below. Thankfully, it is a cloudy day in Monaco. The heat of the sun isn't too harsh on the skin. Despite that, you hand Max a sun screen.

“Sorry about Kelly, by the way,” Alexandra says. Your conversation has drifted towards Max’s failed relationship now.

“That is very nice of you to say,” replies Max, smiling slightly. “But I’m okay.”

You give him a look, clearly unconvinced. Admitting vulnerability gives him hives so he's definitely lying.

“You look too okay for a guy who ended a three-year relationship,” Charles muses and his words get you immediately thinking.

Oh? So they’ve been dating that long? You never noticed.

“Even [Name] looked worse when she broke up with that Williams mechanic two years ago and they dated for like what? Barely a year?”

“Unprovoked!” you exclaim. Alex and Max laugh.

But yeah, Charles is right. When you broke up with Leo in 2021, it was not the prettiest sight. He entered Williams mid-2020 as a mechanic and he immediately caught your attention. He's kind and handsome and a very sweet guy. You have similar interests—engineering—and a similar sense of humor and you just….work so well together, you know? You were sure he was your soulmate the moment he cracked up that Physics pickup line and you know it was the same with him. You swore to God that you’d run away from all the British charming assholes but Leo made you eat your own words and gave you a run for your money.

But alas, 2021 season came and Red Bull Racing became busier than ever because Max and Hamilton got crazily competitive and Max demanded your full attention, needing you as a support system to win.

And Leo. Well, he’s busy, too. Engineers are always busy. But he felt neglected because all your attention was on Max. He felt like he was competing with Max for your attention and it shouldn't even be a competition in the first because Leo was the boyfriend and Max was not. And you cannot even deny that you prioritized Max that year. You wanted Max to win. You needed Max to win, so he can finally ask Horner to move you to the engineering team.

Losing Leo is devastating but Max won the WDC title that year and while you spent nearly a month crying over Leo after the breakup, you're hoping that at least, in 2022, you’ll finally get that damned engineering position at the cost of losing your soulmate. That the tears you shed and the broken heart you carried inside your ribs will be worth it if it was in exchange for your dream. Then, it does not happen. The job isn't given to you and you spent the early months of the 2023 season wishing that you have chosen Leo instead of Max Verstappen.

“You’re still friends with him, right?” Charles turns to you.

“Of course,” you say honestly. You're still mutuals on IG and he still hearts your IG stories at times. You still talk, too, on the freer nights where there's a lot of time to waste. “We ended on good terms.”

“How about you, Max?”

“Can we not talk about this please?”

The four of you empty that bottle of champagne and once the sun has begun retiring for the night, Alex and Charles also left. You're soon to follow, fixing your tote bag and going through the mental checklist in your head so you will not forget anything and not waste energy returning here to pick it up.

“You can stay for dinner.”

Max’s offer surprises you.

“No.”

His face drops as quickly as your answer came.

“You're goin’ to let me cook again.”

“No, I’ll cook.”

You give him an unimpressed look. Clearly, you're not convinced.

“I swear, I’ll cook.”

“What if I get poisoned?”

“You won't get poisoned.”

When you continue staring at him, he sighs.

“Just stay please?”

Of course, you stayed. He asked after all.

You keep your eyes on him as he makes dinner with clumsy hands and a bit of unsureness behind his actions.

“You're goin’ to burn it, honey,” you point out.

“What honey? I didn't put any honey in it.”

You blink. He blinks back.

“You’re gonna give me aneurysm one day.”

Shaking your head, you walk into the bathroom at the end of the enormous hallway, lock the door behind you, lean your back against the door, and slowly slides down until your ass meets the cold bathroom floor. You slap a palm against your forehead and purse your lips to stop a scream from erupting.

God fucking dammit, Max is too adorable back there and this is not doing good things for your heart.

[harmonysanreads]

Okay legit I had an idea and I'm sending it to the first hsr related blog I found.

Sunday, but with amnesia.

Like, say he somehow got attacked and hit his head hard enough to mess with his memory. He remembers some things, but can't recall others.

Unfortunately, his datemate/spouse is someone he forgets.

He's able to go about his days and work just fine, but he can't help but feel like something is missing. He doesn't recall why he wants to hold their hand or accidentally let slip an affectionate petname. He's confused when he sees photos of them on his desk. No matter how hard he tries, he can't recall who they are. He knows that he loves them, he's been told by everyone (including his sister), but he just can't bring back the memory of them.

One day, while he's making his bed, he comes across a familiar gift. It's a plushie that had been pushed under his bed at some point. He doesn't recognize the character. It certainly wasn't from the Clockie cartoons. Even so, it's soft and warm and impeccably maintained, even if it shows signs of being well loved. He holds it to his chest, and he catches a whiff of familiar perfume, one that brings a single word to his mind.

"Angel."

(As you can probably tell, I've been gnawing on this idea for at least a minute)

Anon, I think you can see the future because this would be perfect to think about after that quest.

It is often said that as long as there's someone who remembers you, you'll live even after you've passed the borders of life. But, is it still ‘living’ if everyone remembers you except the person who's carved a home in your heart? And can that person ever be the same ; breathing, working and going through life with the aching vacancy of a home?

Sunday might've been shaken from the events of the Charmony Eve, but he's conscious enough to suspect that his impromptu transformation could've altered his memory. It's a simple conclusion, if you're feeling empty, then it's clear there was something occupying that space. And if the vacancy is so painful that you can't shake it off — then that missing object, or person, was undoubtedly important.

Still, it's nonetheless difficult accepting the fact that he ever loved someone that intensely. While he is open to hearing your side of things and believing in the stubborn stains you left around the corners of his life — he just can't quite believe the entirety of the truth.

There's another nagging thought slowly taking root in his subconscious after the Nameless proved their the strength of their ideology. Suppose, he accepts that he truly did love you more than the air he breaths, but, should he continue keeping you in his watch, integrated in his renown as vehemently as he'd done before? Or, should he set you free? Should he respect whatever decision you make and wherever you choose to go for once in this dreadful life?

Whatever conclusion Sunday inevitably arrives at, it's best to not expect its arrival very soon.

[bloatedandalone04]

Bring in the New Year - Part 2

➪the one where you and hayden enter a new year together.

Warnings: swearing, smut, fluff, unprotected sex, public sex, hair pulling, marking, alcohol consumption, soft dom hayden

Word Count: 2.6k | Part 1

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ | HAPPY NEW YEAR !

The loud music was almost deafening, and Hayden started looking for the nearest exit so he could escape the noise. 

He pushed his way through the crowd of people, receiving a few light slaps to his back as he neared the sliding glass door. While this wasn’t his first New Years party, not by a long shot, he still felt a bit anxious about how many people were around him.

A family friend of his had thrown the party at his new apartment that was on the twenty fourth floor of the building, and of course Hayden was invited to it. He wasn’t much of a party fan, but didn’t mind that this was his second one this month, the first one being the Christmas Eve party. 

Once he was out on the balcony and set his drink aside, he braced his hands on the railing and took a few deep breaths. It was the end of one of the best years of his life; he moved into a house instead of looking at another apartment, he got engaged and he got a dog. 

He accomplished so much, and he was beyond excited to see what the new year brings. 

The balcony was abandoned except for him, and the dark sky looked beautiful in contrast to the tall, lit-up buildings that surrounded this one. The small light above the sliding door was dimmed, basking the surrounding area in darkness, and he was sure that no one inside was paying attention to him. 

Well, maybe one person was.

The door opening and closing and the sound of heels walking towards him was all Hayden could hear, so he wasn’t caught off guard by the pair of arms that abruptly wrapped around his waist from behind. He didn’t need to hear your voice to know it was you as your vanilla perfume was more than enough for him to be able to relax in your embrace. 

You run your nose along the back of his neck before kissing behind his ear, your heels allowing you to actually reach him since he was a lot taller than you when you weren’t wearing them. “Baby,” you hummed, running your hands up and down his front. 

Hayden leaned back against you, pressing his back to your chest as he turned his head to look at you. “Hi, sweet girl,” he greeted you, placing his hands over yours that were resting on his abdomen. “Are you having fun?”

You hum again, kissing his cheek now that he gave you easier access to it. “I’m having fun trying out all the drinks in your friend’s alcohol cabinet,” you answer as you press your body closer to his. “I just missed my fiancé, missed my man.”

He could hear the seductiveness in your voice and knew all the drinking and dancing you’ve been doing since the two of you arrived had put you in the mood. Still, he was raised to be a gentleman. “Your man, huh?” He laughed, turning his head a bit more so he could look at your eyes. “Are you drunk, pretty girl?”

You give him a sheepish smile as you shake your head, running the tip of your nose along his jaw afterwards. “No,” you answer, raking your hands up his arms and gripping his biceps. “I’ve only had a few sips here and there.” 

Hayden’s lips break out into a grin as he turns around completely and brings his hands up to either side of your face. His thumbs trace the curve of your jaw as he leans in and connects your lips in a searing kiss. 

You return the kiss with a sense of need, gripping the side of his neck with one hand while the other tangles in his hair. You run your tongue along his bottom lip before pulling away and walking backwards, tugging him along with you as you pick up his discarded drink. 

Bringing the rim of the glass to your lips, you sip on the drink while keeping eye contact with him. You swallow and lick the access booze from your red lips as you hand him the drink, and you watch with dark eyes as he finishes it off and sets it down again. He had a much higher tolerance to alcohol than you did, so he was nowhere near being drunk, despite him having more to drink than you did.

You press your lips together as you pull your hand from his and tug his shirt free from where he had tucked it into his jeans. Hayden laughs under his breath as he stares down at you, both your and his hair blowing in the cool wind. “C’mon, baby,” he coaxed, taking your chin in between his thumb and index finger. “Let’s go back to the party. We can say goodbye and then I’ll take you home.”

His own words sounded good to him, but you just shake your head and pull him with you to the dark corner of the balcony that was a few feet from the glass sliding door. If Hayden moved a step or two to his left, he would be able to clearly see into the apartment, but you didn’t seem to care at all. “I want you, Hayden,” you mumbled, your fingers beginning to unbutton his white dress shirt. “Here, now. Right now.”

Your lips peppered kisses along the base of his throat, then you trailed your mouth down to his chest. “You’re something else,” he comments as he braces his forearm against the wall above your head. He takes your left hand in his right one and observes a certain finger that had recently accepted a ring. “Ever since I put a ring on you, you’ve been so needy for me.”

You whine as you press a kiss to his lips, slipping your arms around his body and running your hands down his bare back. “Can you blame me?” You asked, lifting one leg and wrapping it around his waist. “You want to spend the rest of your life with me, how can I not want you all the time after you asked me to marry you?”

Hayden laughed, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt but leaving it on. “I told you a long time ago that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you,” he pointed out, bunching up the fabric of your silver dress. “A ring really made it clear to you?”

You grin up at him. “Yes,” you answer, wrapping your arms around his neck as he presses his front to yours. “You want me to be your wife. I’m gonna be your wife.”

He laughs again, kissing along your exposed shoulder. “It’s all hitting you now, huh? Are you sure you’re not drunk?” He teased and you shook your head again. 

“I just love you so fucking much,” you reply, clinging onto him by his shirt and hair. “And I want you so bad.”

Hayden effortlessly picks you up, making you squeal a bit as you hold onto him. “Right now?” He asked, knowing damn well what your answer is. You glance over to your left and feel your heartbeat quicken at the height you are currently at, and the fact that your feet were no longer touching the ground had your grip on him tightening. “Right here?”

Though you were a tad scared to have no real grip on anything other than him right now, and the fact that your life is literally in his hands as you were a mere few inches from the railing, the thrill of it all only added to your lust. You nod and bite your lip, your mouth quickly being covered by his afterwards. “Right here,” you confirm against his lips. “Please, Hayden, fuck me right where anyone can see.” 

Hayden cursed under his breath, gripping the backs of your thighs and pressing his hard-on against your core. “You’re filthy, you know that?” He muttered as he pulled your dress up above your hips. “You want me to fuck you when any one of our friends could walk out and see us?”

Really, the people inside should be the last of his concerns as anyone in the surrounding buildings would easily be able to see you if they were to simply glance out their windows, but he really didn’t care much. 

“And don’t stop even if they do,” you challenge him, earning a throaty groan from him. “Please, baby, I need you so bad.”

He knew that. He could feel the damp spot on your panties as he pushed them aside and gently sunk two of his fingers knuckle-deep into your welcoming heat. “I’ll fuck you,” he stated, not surprised that you had completely turned him on without even really trying. He came out here to get some air and to be away from the craziness, and now here he is; a mere few seconds away from fucking you against the wall of his friend’s new balcony. 

“Please,” you whimpered, tangling your hands in his hair that was quickly becoming messier by the minute. 

“I’ll take care of you,” he promised, bracing your body against his thigh as he unzipped his jeans. Once he freed himself, he pressed you right up against the wall and wrapped your legs securely around his waist before teasing your clit with his tip. “I always do, don’t I?”

You nod desperately, bucking up against him at the barely-there friction he was creating. “You do, Hayden,” you fed into his ego without a care in the world. “Always fuck me so good.”

He grinned at you, his usually sweet and sometimes shy girl who had turned into a needy and desperate mess for him. You wanted him so bad, and he was more than happy to give himself to you whenever you ambushed him like this. 

If you needed him in the middle of a party on a twenty fourth floor balcony, then so be it. 

“Hold onto me, baby,” he ordered and you obliged immediately, locking your ankles together and grabbing a firm hold on his shoulders. You moan as soon as he enters you, your walls taking every inch of him until he bottoms out. 

“Fuck,” you curse under your breath, looking down at where you two connected. As he began to slowly fuck into you, proving that he also didn’t really care much for being quick so you weren’t caught, you bite down harshly on your kiss swollen lip. “Oh, fuck.”

Hayden leaned in and sucked a mark onto the skin of your collarbone, your strapless dress giving him perfect access to every inch of your shoulders. “You’re so tight,” he grunted, wondering how you managed to stay as tight as you were the first time he took you like this. No matter how many times he fucks you, your walls stay impossibly tight and have to stretch around him every single time. “So good for me.”

“Hayden,” you moan a bit louder, clinging onto him tightly. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he instantly says back, holding your hips in a firm grip as he practically fucks you into the wall. “Love you so much. You’re so good, letting me fuck you like this when we could get caught at any second.”

It was true. The door wasn’t locked, and there were hundreds of people in that apartment. He could hear them every time they passed by the balcony, and you both knew that any one of them could easily walk out and catch you in the sinful act you are currently taking part in. 

“We’re gonna miss the countdown because you couldn’t wait until we got home to jump on me,” he teased and your face burned in a deep blush. He says that, but really is just as bad as you are. He had gotten hard as soon as your mouth touched his, and he knew he would’ve been walking around the party with you pressed to his front so he could hide his erection if he didn’t take care of it now. 

Though you were quickly beginning to lose yourself in his quick and hard thrusts, you were still coherent enough to say, “You want me, too, don’t even try that right now,”

Hayden laughs, kissing the mark he left on your shoulder before meeting your lust-filled gaze. “Of course I want you,” he rasped. “I want you all the time, baby.”

You moaned loudly and though he knew it wasn’t likely that you could be heard over the loud music, Hayden still looked over and glanced inside the apartment.

The guests were still chatting amongst themselves and seemed to not notice the absence of the two of you, making Hayden smirk as he quickened his pace. While no one was aware of what you were doing, he still had to be a bit quick about it as it was nearing twelve in the morning, and as soon as the new year began, he knew people would start looking for him and you. 

With your back pressed up against the wall and your front pressed up against his chest, you were powerless as you squirmed in his arms. Your hand grips the back of his head and you connect your lips in a deep kiss. “I’m close,” you warn as you clench helplessly around him. 

“Already?” He mocked and you blushed even more. “You really did need me, huh?”

“Hayden,” you whine, trying to buck your hips and meet his thrusts, but you were only able to move a couple of inches. “Don’t tease me.”

“‘M not teasing you, sweet girl,” he promised, kissing you softly for further effect. “I’m giving you what you need, aren’t I?”

You nod quickly, gripping him tighter just as you hear the guests begin to countdown from ten. “Hayden,” you moan, raking your hands through his hair as your high quickly approaches. “Come with me, baby.”

Hayden groans quietly, your relentless pulling on his hair making his own high creep closer. “Is that what you want?” He asked, sliding his hands higher so they’re gripping your ass. “You want to come together?”

You nod again, clenching tightly around him as the guests chant out a ‘five, four, three,’. 

“Come on then, baby,” he crooned, his tip brushing against your sweet spot with every thrust. “Come with me, come for me.”

You moan loudly as you do just that, clamping down around him as you come hard and fast. Your warmth floods around him, coaxing Hayden’s release as well. He lets out a string of deep groans as he continues to fuck you through your highs, the loud cheering from inside as the new year began being tuned out almost completely. 

You practically fall limp in his arms as he gently sets you down, his grip on you never faltering as he holds you steady on your shaky legs. Both your and his hair were a mess, and your lips were wet and puffy, but you both wore dumb grins on your faces at what you just did. 

Hayden pulls your dress back down as you button his shirt up with nearly numb fingers, and you couldn’t help but joke at the event that had just taken place. “Now we can say we started our year with a bang,” you say and Hayden rolls his eyes as he smooths out his hair and wipes away the lipstick that had smudged on your chin. “Happy New Year.”

He smiles at that, leaning down to kiss you. “Happy New Year, sweet girl,” he said back, taking your hand in his once you were both looking presentable again.

[ohmytyong]

douceur

⤹ now playing: k. by cigarettes after sex

PAIRING: boyfriend!jaehyun x female!reader

GENRE: smut (minors dni!!), fluff

WARNINGS: explicit language, alcohol consumption, pet names (kitten, honey, baby), short appearance of roommate!jungwoo, explicit sexual content; thigh riding, slight voyeurism (?), praise, suggestive scene of oral (m receiving)

not proofread, let me know if i missed any!

WC: 2k

A/N: this was sitting completely forgotten in my drafts. the first wip wasn't meant to include smut but oh well. anyway, perfume jaehyun has a very strong effect on me, so here's a little present from me to you

* .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

the glugging sound of the deep red liquid pouring into the tall thin glass echoed in the silent room. soft breaths were coming in and out of your nose as you watched your boyfriend jaehyun placing the glass on the counter top and taking the other empty one to pour some wine in it too.

you were sitting cross-legged on the sofa of jaehyun's dim-lit apartment, your body angled towards him and your back turned against the window looking down on the busy city streets. even though it was just a bit past midnight, the whole city was lit up as if it was new year's eve.

you and your boyfriend jaehyun had just got back to his apartment after your date to the movies. the streets were lively, the sky was gleaming, the mood was dazzling, yet the night was chilling, so you and jaehyun decided to take your date back to his apartment. before you could even think about arguing, jaehyun reassured you that he would lend you his clothes as nightwear, as always, and that he had also bought those baby wipes that remove your makeup. that's what he called them.

jaehyun placed the bottle of wine on the counter, grabbed the two half-full glasses he just filled with the red liquid and headed towards the couch where you were sitting. he sat down with a huff and handed you one of the glasses.

you smiled before your glasses met with a clink and then the two of you took a small sip of the alcoholic substance that filled the inside of the glass. "let's put on some music, go and pick something kitten" jaehyun motioned you to the shelf next to the tv set where he stored his vinyls.

you squirmed excitedly and placed you glass on the coffee table in front of you before you got up. jaehyun playfully patted your butt as you got up from the sofa and waited to see which vinyl you would pick. you had been through his vinyl collection many times before, but you knew exactly what you were looking for.

you fingers brushed softly against the spines of the vinyl covers, rummaging through them until you found the so familiar cover you always chose.

you took the black and white cigarettes after sex vinyl out of the shelf and went over to jaehyun's record player to put it on. jaehyun rolled his eyes at the sight of it. "out of so many different vinyls, you always pick this one. "we're having a good time honey, why the sad music?" jaehyun asked you in a way to make you change your mind, but your actions were quicker than his words as the vinyl had already started playing.

you sat back down on the sofa and leaned to the coffee table to grab your wine glass. "don't act like it's not one of your favorites either. and i don't care if it's sad, it sounds so calming and beautiful" you defended yourself and jaehyun couldn't do anything else but laugh.

you started swaying along the soothing sound of the music, taking in your surroundings. you had been in jaehyun's apartment many times before, it also felt like your apartment too. it radiated warmth, serenity, and a kind of comfort you only felt when you were wrapped in his arms.

you unconsciously started humming along to the tune that filled in the silence that previously occupied the living room, slightly swaying your body along to the soft melody. jaehyun noticed that and smiled to himself, thinking  how lucky he was to have you in his life, thinking how much he loved you.

without even looking at him, you noticed his eyes trained and you and turned your head towards him. you instantly returned his smile at the sight of his almost beaming face. "what are you smiling at? come on, let's dance" you urged him and took his hand to drag him from the sofa onto his feet.

jaehyun sighed at your actions, but he only did it because he knew it irritated you. deep down, he had been waiting for you to do this ever since the song started playing. 

the two of you stood in the center of the living room, jaehyun's arms wrapped around your waist and your arms stretching up to reach the back of his neck. as if somebody casted a spell upon you, your bodies became one and with the cue of your feet, the two of you started swaying to the soothing sound.

you rested your head on top of jaehyun's chest, your ear sitting at the exact spot that allowed you to listen to his heartbeat. at this action of yours, jaehyun moved one of his arms from your waist to caress the back of your head. you felt calm. at ease. this is the place you always wanted to be at. the only place you only wanted to be at.

this beautiful moment between the two of you was suddenly interrupted by the jingling sound of keys and the banding of the front door opening, revealing the tall slender figure of a rushing jungwoo. you and jaehyun practically jumped out of your reverie at the abrupt emergence of the loud sound.

with quick and almost nervous movements, jungwoo kicked the door shut behind him and placed the keys on top of the kitchen counter before he went on to take off his shoes. he flashed you a bright smile that spread across his entire face and spoke up in a soft yet cheerful voice. "hey guys, sorry to ruin the mood, i'll be out of your feet in a minute. i'll stay in my room, don't bother about me. have a good time!" he said and hurried to his room.

you and jaehyun looked at each other and bursted out laughing at jungwoo's straight-to-the-point comment. he was actually true to his word; he sweeped his feet on the floor on his way to his bedroom and without even turning his body, he closed the door with a thud behind him.

jaehyun sighed after his laughter slowly faded and pulled away from you and went to sit on the couch. you immediately felt empty without his touch and you instatly found your body gravitating towards his, aching to be touched again.

but this touch you were aching for was tranferred in the spot right between your legs. you wanted jaehyun. you needed him. and you needed him right then and there.

without thinking, you shifted your body in a way that allowed your thighs to meet closer in order to give your aching area some kind of friction. you could already feel your panties getting wet, and the sight of jaehyun sitting in front you on the sofa with his upper body leaning back and his legs spread made your aching sensation even worse.

jaehyun looked at you and patted his hand on his thigh, signaling you to go towards him. you didn't need to be told much at that moment. you practically hurried to his lap and straddled him, putting your legs on each side of his thighs.

jaehyun rested both of his hands at the back of your thighs and gently pushed you closer to him. you pulled him in for a passionate kiss and he responded to your touch in an instant, deepenign the kiss even more than you initially wanted.

jaehyun kissed you slowly yet roughly and full of hunger. he was eager to taste more of you and he was as desperate for you as you were for him. his grip on your thighs tightened and you felt your pussy clench around nothing, longing to be touched.

you shifted the weight of body so that your thighs were pressing with more force on jaehyun, which only made you even more wet as you felt his growing hard length through his pants. an uncontrollable whimper left your lips into jaehyun's mouth and he smirked during the kiss at that sound.

without breaking the kiss, jaehyun spoke. "what is it kitten? something wrong down there?" his voice was muffled and bore a suggestive tone. your response was again another broken whimper and jaehyun chuckled at your already undone state.

you shluggishly started rocking your hips against jaehyun's clothed length in order to somehow relieve yourself from the almost painful sensation between your legs. jaehyun noticed your eagerness and with steardy hands, he lifted your hips and moved your body so that you sat on top of his thigh.

"there we go. this is much better kitten, isn't it?" jaehyun spoke with a low raspy voice. "now go ahead. help yourself honey, i'll watch" he said and you could swear you could feel your wetness drip down you leg.

you didn't need jaehyun's words to get you going though. you were moving your hips along his thigh, pressing onto it so that you could get as much friction as possible through the fabric of both your pants and his. you were too impatient to take them off, you just begun riding your boyfriend's thigh, gripping onto his shoulders to support your body from completely falling apart.

all this time jaehyun had his gaze fixated on you, his eyes darting from your face, to the spot your aching core met his thigh, and then back to your face. the expression of pleasure on your face and the breathy moans that left your lips had jaehyun reaching between his legs, cupping his dick outside his pants.

a low squeak escaped your lips as you were coming closer to your climax and jaehyun quickly moved his free hand to cover your mouth. "shhh, baby, you don't want jungwoo to come out of his room and see you like this" he whispered and you closed your eyes shut, muffled moans leaving your mouth into jaehyun's hand. 

you felt you climax almost there. the movements of yous hips became faster and sloppier in an attempt to reach your high. jaehyun sensed it too and he flexed his thigh bone, which gave you a harder surface to grind on, finally reaching your climax. you buried your head into his shoulder, your body trembling at the relief of all this tension. jaehyun moved your hair away from your face and placed a tender kiss on your cheek. "you did great, baby. you were amazing" he praised you and you don't know how it was possible for your panties to get even more soaked than they already were.

you stayed like this for a moment to catch your breath and slowly lifted your head to meet jaehyun's eyes and kiss him. the kiss didn't last long though, as you heard jaehyun undoing his zipper and try to remove his pants. you grabbed his arm and stopped his movements before he could go any further.

"uh uh, what are you doing?" you asked him, teasingly.

jaehyun scoffed in desperation. "i mean, you gotta help me out on this one kitten," he said.

you got up from his lap and dropped down on your knees in front of him, right between his legs. you moved your hands at the waistband of his pants and with painfully slow movements you pulled them down to his ankles, dragging his underwear too at the same time, revealing his hard length already leaking with precum.

you leaned your upper body closer to him, taking his dick into your hand. you ran your thumb with a circling motion along his glistening tip, spreading some of his leaking cum across the sensitive area, which earned a low hiss from the male.

you brought his dick closer to your mouth, your lips barely touching his lenght. you looked up at jaehyun with an innocent puppy-eye look before you whispered right on top of the tip of his aching cock.

"let me handle this, babe"

* .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

TAGS: @matchahyuck @peachjaem00 @hyuckieslove @bbyyhyuck @vdollys @positionslab @renjun-fairy @back2jisung @xxxx-23nct @doieslefttoe @uwuheeseungie

join my taglist here !!

[ilypaigebuckets]

i’m listening to ts rn so u guys are getting this 😇 hope you like it i think we need more cc fluff

plot: it’s the morning after a new year’s eve party with the team, hosted at your and caitlin’s apartment. you guys are cleaning up and caitlin tells you how grateful she is for you.

New Year’s Day - Caitlin Clark x Reader

15. 14. 13. 12. 11.…the entirety of the Iowa women’s basketball team watched the tv waiting in anticipation for the ball on the screen to drop, signifying the new year. You were in your junior year at Iowa, and had loved it thus far. While watching the clock your mind wandered to all the things that had happened that year.

10. 9. 8… Women’s college basketball’s popularity had grown exponentially, and so had your team’s success. You had gotten closer with your teammates.

7. 6… You’d injured your knee and had to be out for almost a month, but you had a great support system behind you.

5. 4… You looked next to you and there she was. Your favorite thing that happened to you all year; your girlfriend, Caitlin Clark. She had been your teammate all throughout your college career, but the two of you had only started to explore the romantic tension that lingered between the two of you this past year. It was the best thing you’d ever done. Caitlin noticed your eyes on her and stared back at you. She smirked and wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

“See something you like?” You rolled your eyes are your overly-cocky girlfriend, but leaned into her touch. You were still staring at her, and she was staring back. Her smile took you to another planet. It was almost like time froze and nobody else was there. Nobody else mattered when you locked eyes with her. It was you and her against the world. Alas, the noise grew louder the lower the numbers counted down to. Before you knew it everyone was chanting, “3! 2! 1!”

“Happy New Year!” Everyone cheered as the ball on the glowing television dropped. You grabbed the side of Caitlin’s face and turned it back to you, colliding your lips together. It was a sweet, but passionate kiss that definitely lasted a little longer than appropriate for a public setting. When you finally released her face from your grasp she looked at you stunned.

“What?” You looked at her with doe eyes, “I thought that’s what couples were supposed to do on New Year’s?” Caitlin smiled at you and pulled you closer to her, at a loss for words. She had definitely hit the jackpot. Soon enough, everyone said their ‘goodbyes’ and goodnights’ and you and Caitlin were left alone in your apartment. You looked over and her fondly, then looked back at the mess on the floor and grimaced. There were beer cans, bottles, confetti, anything you could imagine it was on your floor. You started to groan at the thought of having to pick it all up and Caitlin pulled you into her chest, resting her chin on top of her head.

“Let’s go to bed baby, we can clean up in the morning,” and just like that, she was leading you to your bedroom.

—

The next morning you woke up in Caitlin’s arms, just like usual. The light peered in throw the blinds in rays that accentuated the green in her eyes. You buried your head into her neck trying to avoid looking directly into the light and breathed in the faint smell of her perfume she wore last night. Caitlin stirred and held you even tighter.

Since it was the first day of the new year, you wanted to start things off on the right foot. You got out of bed and got ready, throwing on some sweatpants and one of your girlfriend’s hoodies, then headed to the kitchen to make the two of you some breakfast. Caitlin followed suit closely behind you, and after breakfast you got to work picking up the remains of last night’s party.

You swept glitter off the floor while Caitlin started picking up bottles. Every once in a while, Caitlin stole glances at you. Everytime Caitlin wasn’t looking at you, you were stealing glances at her. You walked past Caitlin on your way to dump the glitter in the trash and brushed past her arm, desperate for her touch. Feeling sentimental after thinking about how grateful you were for everything that happened in the part year, you walked back to where she was and rubbed her arm. You looked down and saw she had a polaroid in her hand. After further inspection, you saw it was the two of you mid-kiss. She turned to you, “this is so cute, Y/n, who took it?” You simply shrugged. You had no idea, but it sure was cute!

“Cait I-“

“I love you so much babe. I’m so happy I get to go into another year with you!” She cut you off, but it was okay because she was adorable and what you had to say was pretty much exactly what she said. You wrapped your arms around her neck, holding onto your memories and onto her. You pecked her on the lips, leaving her wanted more. “That better not be the last New Year’s kiss I ever get from you.” She laughed and kissed your forehead, “trust me, it was the first of many. Wanna take a break? You know my resolution was actually to spend some more quality time with you this year!” She winked and you knew exactly what she meant.

[astroyongie]

𓆉⋆｡˚⋆❀ Goddess Worship: An Introduction of Venus 🐚🫧𓇼 ˖°

Note: Day 21 of our October calendar! Today we have an introduction of deities I work with/worship. This post is to provide some information about the deities but also how I work with them personally. Everyone has their own methods with the Gods, and you should do whatever feels right with you while also respecting the bases of the religions.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Historical Background:

Venus is the Roman goddess of love, beauty, desire, and fertility, whose origins lie in the Greek goddess Aphrodite (they are basically the same deity but one can have a preference for one or another when it comes in terms of naming. I personally like Venus denomeation better than Aphrodite, yet Aphrodite's cult is older and thus more accurate when it comes to history). She played a major role in Roman culture, not just as a goddess of romantic love but also as a symbol of the prosperity and power of the Roman state. Julius Caesar claimed to be a descedent from Venus through her son Aeneas, who was a Trojan hero and a central figure in Roman myth. You can find a vast historical symbols and lore with Venus. Out of the three goddess that I work with (Venus, Freyja and Hekate) she is the most well represented through art, literature, historical history and mythology.

Attributes and Symbols:

Doves and Sparrows: they are birds sacred to Venus, representing love and desire but also innocence and purity. These birds often accompany her in art as a part of her symbolism. Shells and Pearls: Venus is famously depicted emerging from the sea on a shell, symbolizing her birth from sea foam. Anything directly linked with the sea can be symbolic in her name Roses and Myrtle: Both flowers are sacred to Venus, representing love, beauty, and fertility. Golden Apples: Associated with the goddess, these were the prize in the famous myth of the Judgment of Paris, where Venus was deemed the fairest of all. Other red fruits can also be associated with her, anything that holds a connotation of love and desire. (The apples are also an association with Eve and the forbidden fruit)

Worship and Rituals:

Veneralia: A festival held in honor of Venus Verticordia (Venus the Changer of Hearts) on April 1st. This festival was primarily concerned with cleansing rituals, bathing in myrtle-laden water, and offering prayers for purity in love and relationships. Venus Genetrix: A title meaning "Mother Venus," this aspect emphasized Venus’s role as a progenitor of the Roman people through Aeneas. Julius Caesar established a temple in her honor as Venus Genetrix, showing her importance in Roman political and public life. Gardens and Shrines: Venus had many shrines and temples, particularly in Rome. Shrines to Venus often included lush gardens, which were a symbol of her fertility and life-giving powers. This is also an idea to set al whole altar/shrine for her, that doesn't need to be inside of home and can be creative with your outside space. Erotic and Fertility Rites: Venus was invoked in matters of love, sex, and fertility. Offerings of flowers, perfume, and wine were common, and her blessings were sought by women who wished to conceive. Pretty much like Freyja, people would have sexual intercourse in her honor State Worship: Venus was integral to the Roman state religion. Augustus, following Caesar’s example, elevated her status, linking her to the success of the empire and military victories. Any "birth" was dedicated to her

-> When worshipping Venus, you can make a pretty altar while respecting her symbolisms. Venus can help with love, but remember she helps with self love first as well. Do not invoke her only to have X falling in love with you. her cult needs to be taken seriously. Offerings need to be maid every friday and during her ritual days. Never use her power to become "the prettiest of them all", as Venus doesn't take well humans who try to use her name for pettiness. Be grateful for her, shower her in love and admiration and she will bless you in return

-> Ideas for offerings: Wine, honey, shells, feathers, mirrors, roses, myrtle, perals, jewlery, perfume, incense, scented candles, hairbrushes or makeup, apples, red fruits, sea water or sand, anything symbolic with the sea and love.

BIBLIOGRAPHY:

"Venus in Rome: A Translation of Book II of Ovid's Fasti" by Ovid, Translated by Betty Rose Nagle

"Venus Genetrix: Political Imagery and Female Personifications in the Late Republic" by Paul Zanker

Carney, J. (2013). Venus in Augustan Rome (Doctoral dissertation, Florida Atlantic University).

Flory, M. B. (1988). Pearls for Venus. Historia: Zeitschrift für Alte Geschichte, (H. 4), 498-504.

[inkdrinkerworld]

throwing up bc i can’t stop thinking about dealer!remus and r high and spending new years together bc they just want it to be them two and them being each others new years kiss and using that as a way to make a move on each other bc they were too scared to do anything before pleaSe sedate me

No because why didn’t I have a dealer!remus to kiss me breathless for the new year??!

There’s a frog in your throat. There usually isn’t when you’re alone, but there always seems to be a lump in your throat when you’re with Remus that no amount of affection for him will lessen.

In fact, it seems that the more affection you harbor for him the bigger the lump grows.

You’re sitting on his sofa, in a sparkly New Year’s Eve midi dress and tall socks that are hidden under a fleece blanket.

Remus is in dark slacks and a white shirt- both outfits remnants of the party you’d both escaped from.

“Sure you don’t want a sweater, dove?” Remus asked as he’d undid his tie and honestly, a sweater would’ve been so much worse than suffering in your sequin dress that’s scratching the sliver of skin exposed of your thighs.

“The blanket’s fine, Remmy,” you’d promised, mostly because the idea of being in a sweater that smelled exactly like Remus- a little like his detergent, his citrus and pepper perfume and weed, would’ve made you even more of a mess.

Currently, you’ve got a blunt hanging from your lips, content to have the smoke billow from your mouth and around your head.

Remus is halfway done with his own, watching you mostly as he lets the last bit of the weed burn out.

“There’s something wrong with my hands, Remus.” You say, and he supposes that there should be more urgency in your words, but you get this even softer, mushy quality about you when you’re high that makes every thought seem like nothing.

“What’s wrong with them?” He asks, turning his body so he’s facing you. Your knees knock as you turn to him too.

“Can’t move them,” the blunt almost falls from your lips, and truly your arms feel like lead. Remus catches it before it falls, holding it close to your mouth in case you still want a pull. “Thanks.”

You’re always earnest and shy, but it only seems to become that much more endearing when you smoke, and Remus finds he loves it even more.

The way every word sound wistful, the way your eyes blink up at him slowly like you’re trying to stare at him for as long as possible.

“You’re really pretty, Remus. Which is strange for men,” you say it thoughtfully, like you’ve been thinking it forever.

You’re not sure why you can’t stop talking, or ally you’ve a lot less words to use; but tonight it seems resolutions have come earlier.

“Yeah?” Remus smiles as you nod and take a drag before exhaling.

“Yeah, and your lips, they’re so pretty.” If your hands were working you’d probably reach out to touch the thin scar that slices through his lip, but right now you can’t and maybe it’s a blessing.

Unconsciously, you lean into Remus some more, your thigh covering his knee.

“You’ve got a better pair, pretty girl.” Remus insists and your eyes widen. It’s funny that you seem to find the compliment unhinged.

The distance closes some more.

“Yeah?”

Suddenly, you and Remus are almost lip to lip, noses brushing.

“Yes, dovey,” he murmurs, his lips brushing yours and before he can even ask, you close the distance.

The kiss is shy, an experimental press and then you pull back. Remus doesn’t let you get far and sets the blunt into the ashtray before grabbing the back of your neck to pull you back to him.

It’s a kiss not like what you’d expected; Remus tastes like weed, but there’s something else and it fogs your head even more than the high grade you’d just been smoking.

The kiss is slow but deep, a dance Remus leads with ease. His fingers tangle in your hair to keep you in place and yours finally seem to work again and climb the back of his shirt.

“Happy New Year, dove.” He pulls away and is almost as breathless as you are, the light of the fireworks being set off brightening the window behind you.

“Happy New Year, Rem,” you hide your face in his chest when you catch your breath and Remus chuckles. “Dunno why you’re laughing. Can’t kiss a girl like that and not expect her to get flustered.”

That only makes him laugh even more. Remus’ hands rub down your back.

“You’d get flustered if I only looked at you baby, let’s not pretend.”

[ilovehugslikealotalot]

One with Emily Prentiss I BEG.

Maybe one where Emily is a mission and keeps making promises to come home in time for Christmas. But on Christmas Eve r loses hope completely and just goes to bed crying because she really misses Emily and then in the morning Em has a much of gifts that she’s setting up in the living room, there’s breakfast and everything. maybe a quote like, “I promised I’d come home in time, didn’t I?”

idk this is my first time requesting

Love’s Silent Night

(Not my gif)

Emily Prentiss x fem!wife!reader

WARNING: 18+ MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED, slight angst, happy ending

Y/n sat in the living room watching the same christmas special for what seemed like the 50th time. Truly, all that she wanted to do is start a fire and curl up next to her wife and watch some christmas movies. But of course, work calls.

———————————————

“Em! Please! It’s literally almost Christmas and you’re leaving for another case?” Y/n exclaimed, crossing her arms clearly distraught, “I know, baby, I know. But-“

“-Duty calls, Yeah, I know, Em. Every year.”

Emily smiles sadly, knowing every year they had spent Christmas apart because of work. And it affected both of them, but this year it was different. The house felt emptier, the blankets seemed colder, and the bed didn’t seem as cozy. It was safe to say that this year wasn’t the best in terms of marriage and staying functional. “I’ll be home as soon as I can, love” Emily said, her face genuine, “And when will that be? January? Last year you came home in the middle of March. Not a single word from you for months..”

Emily’s face suddenly fell. She knew that it hurt y/n every year when this would happen. She also knew that their marriage suffered because of it. “I’ll be home for Christmas, that’s a promise.”

———————————————

Y/n checks the clock. It reads 9:53 as she still lays motionless on the plush couch. It was Christmas Eve, maybe y/n had gotten her hopes up too much. Every year this would happen, so why would this one be any different?

Lugging herself off of the couch she mindlessly threw herself into bed. The bright Christmas lights peaked through the window. It was sad, honestly. It really was. Y/n’s friends pitied her, ‘What’s the point of having a wife if she can’t even be home with you for a day?’

Y/n would brush them off, saying that Emily is trying her best. Which, sometimes Emily didn’t even know if that was true.

Taking a glance at her phone it lit up with a message, Y/n hopefully picks it up and reads it. Sadly, it was from JJ instead of Emily. The case is taking longer than expected! Sorry, n/n! See you soon?

Y/n smiled bitterly, of course, this would happen. She felt the last trace of hope leave her and her tears began to sting. There was that heaviness in her chest and her bed grew colder. In all honesty, y/n didn’t care about Emily coming home for Christmas. She just wanted her home, the sound of blowing wind lulled her to sleep. Letting the cold winter night consume her.

Soon enough, the smell of…hot chocolate? It had lingered in the air, y/n was she sure that she hadn’t made any. It also smelt of pancakes and…Emily’s perfume…

Leaping out of bed, the sleepiness leaving her, the faint sound of Christmas Jazz playing, y/n sprinted down the stairs with a hopeful feeling in her chest and her smile stretching from ear to ear. As she turned to look in the living room, she heard a familiar giggle. “Looking for me, love?” Emily smiled, teasingly holding up a mistletoe, her Santa hat had perfectly matched her plaid pjs and black sweatshirt. Y/n didn’t waste any time to dive straight into Emily’s arms and into a warm and longing kiss.

“I said I’ll be home for Christmas didn’t I?” Emily smirked, y/n rolled her eyes, “I’m just happy you’re home…safe”

[urgonnaneedabiggership]

Perfume Regret

ExBoyfriend!Miguel O'Hara x FemReader

Summary: A fic inspired by Attention by Charlie Puth. Your ex-boyfriend Miguel O'Hara left you heartbroken and no matter how intense the effect he has on you still is, you're determined to use this party to get even.

Warnings: +18 meaning SMUT AND LANGUAGE MINORS DNI OR SO HELP ME GOD. Also there's angst and good old anger-fueled sex. The ending isn't heartbreaking don't worry.

Word count: 4K

I know that dress is karma 

Perfume regret 

Got me thinking 'bout when you were mine 

Nightclubs had never been your scene. 

While you weren't strictly averse to them, you didn't thrive in that element as much as some of your friends did. Yet, whenever you decided to make an appearance, it wasn't the stroboscopic lights, the promise of a few drinks with friends, or the energizing music that made the night worth it. 

It was the hunt. 

And the preparations began long before you even set foot out of your apartment, from the moment you stood in front of the mirror wearing nothing but a fluffy bathrobe, your face a blank canvas. Getting ready with your favorite, emboldening playlist was usually a luxury but not tonight. Judging by the way you struggled to apply eyeliner over your lids with such shaky hands, tonight, you were in dire need of a crushing amount of confidence. 

So much so that a glass with one remaining sip of red wine stood next to your makeup bag, waiting for you to take that last bit of liquid courage. 

Yes, the mere thought of the chase always made your chest swell with excitement. The stolen glances from across the dancefloor until someone gave in and tried to make contact. Loud music left people no choice but to hold conversations in loud whispers that tickled your ear. The desperate attempts to make themselves worthy of your time and the small concessions you made to make them feel like the most special person in that tiny, packed, overpriced club. Flirting was a tango meant for two, and not knowing what kind of partner you'd be dancing with was exhilarating. 

Not this time, however, you thought as you picked up the glass and poured the remaining wine down your throat. Tonight you were after a much too familiar prey that you'd once been dumb enough to let get away. 

As soon as you got the digital invitation to the Alchemax Innovation Department New Year's Eve party, you knew it was time to settle the score. 

A short buzz coming from your phone interrupted your train of thought as the screen lit up with a text from whom you considered to be your work best friend, Liz. 

Heyy :) u coming? 

Yep. Be there in 20, is everybody there already?

O'Hara is missing. Idk if he's coming, though. 

Oh. 

You felt your stomach drop at the thought of all of this being for nothing. Whatever,. Who cared? You weren't doing this for him. You were doing it for yourself because you wanted to go out and have fun. 

A weak smile tugged at your lips when you couldn't even convince yourself with that blatant lie. God, you felt like a terrible feminist at the moment. Screw you, Miguel O'Hara. 

Those had been the last words you said to him before marching out of his apartment and slamming the door after you. Ever since that week during which he’d vanished from work with no explanation, your boyfriend had started to cancel your dates at the last minute or still be out at odd hours, and when he started to simply disappear and not answer your calls or texts several times throughout the day you began to worry.

When he asked if you could talk about something important, you figured you'd be getting an explanation, not dumped. 

The reason, according to him? He was dealing with some personal issues that he could not tell you about, but he'd single-handedly decided it was in your best interest to just move on with your life, so he'd decided to break things off. His face when he said all of that remained engraved in your brain since that day. Cold. Logical. As devoid of any visceral emotion as a doctor would be when recommending you to give up carbs or red meat. 

Two years of your life you'd given to him. You were planning to move in together. You were happy. For what felt like the very first time in your life, you were in love. 

You took a deep breath to keep tears from running down your cheeks and ruining your mascara. 

Even almost six months later, your heart painfully fluttered at the mention of his name.

Carefully, you dried your eyes with a piece of paper and took another deep, slow breath. Your eyes, beautifully framed by a smoky eyeshadow, slowly traced the reflection of your body in the mirror. A sleek, simple dress with a small slit on the side hugged your figure. You loved the color: a nearly black navy blue that matched your chosen makeup palette. 

At the sound of your phone, your eyes drifted down to the lit-up screen. 

Oh, nvm, he just got here. 

The game was afoot. 

As much as it hurt your pride to admit it, you were decidedly nervous as you made your way into the dimly lit nightclub, your eyes discreetly scanning the crowd in search of a particular set of brown eyes. 

Suddenly, a voice made your face in the opposite direction. 

"(Y/N)! Over here!" Liz called from the bar, waving at you with a huge smile that you returned as you walked towards her after wistfully looking at the busy crowd one last time. It wasn't until you reached the bar that you noticed she was sitting next to a man you didn't recognize. 

"So, this is she," she nearly yelled right next to the man's ear when you got close enough to be heard above the deafening electronic beats. 

"Hi, (Y/N), right?" He said, reaching out one hand, "I'm David. Liz has told me a lot about you," 

"Dave here just joined the team," Liz explained, giving his arm a gentle squeeze, "I thought it would be nice to make him feel welcomed. I'll leave you to it. I have to go say hi to a few people," She continued as she left the bar, not before giving you a certain look that made you realize you'd walked straight into a trap. While David was decidedly handsome, and you could've considered him to be your type under different circumstances, right then, your mind was somewhere else. 

"Sure," You replied distractedly, "So why did you choose to work here?" 

That should be enough to keep him talking for a while about his college education and how all he'd ever wanted to do was work for this company and so on while you focused on the matter at hand. 

Where the hell was he? 

Could it be that he'd just popped in to greet a few people and had left before you arrived? Before the countdown? 

Maybe he was celebrating New Year's with somebody else? 

"Sorry, one shot of tequila, please," You loudly called as the bartender walked past you. 

"Make that two, thanks man," David added with a flirtatious smile that you returned out of politeness, mentally praying for Liz to come back soon, knowing damn well that if she'd done this on purpose, there'd be no way out of this conversation. 

You downed the shot as soon as it was placed in front of you. 

David asked you something, but his voice reached your ears as if he was underwater. For a minute, you wondered if such a small amount of alcohol could make you feel so dizzy until you realized it was something else. Your eyes had landed on the back of a familiar head. Brown, scruffy hair and a hearty laugh that had your hands shaking again as you placed the glass back on the wooden bar. 

"God, I'm so sorry. My head's all over the place right now. You were saying?" You said, leaning closer to David. 

"I asked if Alchemax tends to go easy on the new guys or kick them to the curb at the first mistake." 

You laughed as if he'd just told an amazing joke, your eyes covertly going from his face to your target right behind him. At the sound of your laugh, his back stiffened, and you could see he was about to turn around. Right before he did, you quickly tore your eyes off him and glued them to David's face. 

"Oh, don't worry, you'll be just fine. I'll tell you what, I'll look out for you. How's that sound?” You replied, a more relaxed smile plastered on your face. David's eyes lit up. Poor guy. He probably thought that out of nowhere, his luck had shifted. 

Slowly and without losing the amused grin, you peeked over David's shoulder and found Miguel O'Hara's searing eyes staring right into yours. Unlike you, he wasn't smiling. Instead, he let those same calculating eyes unashamedly scrutinize every inch of your body that your gorgeous dress didn't cover and secretly fantasize about what it did. 

Another loud laughter leaving your lips made him snap out of a trance-like state and look into your eyes. Hunting on grounds you were no stranger to had its advantages, such as knowing what to do and when. And so you didn't look away. You held his gaze, undaunted, as you took David's unfinished tequila and brought it up to your lips to take a sip, barely sticking out your tongue to slowly lick the last droplets off your lower lip. You mouthed an apology to the man before you as you walked away from the bar, both for the stolen tequila and for what was about to happen. 

Trying your hardest not to smile or look at him, you made your way through the crowd straight toward Miguel, whose eyes you knew had remained with you since that intense visual exchange back at the bar. You felt them so intensely that you wondered if he could make you burst out in flames just by looking at you. You clenched your jaw as you got close enough for the scent of his enticing cedarwood cologne to fill your nostrils and travel all the way down to your chest, where your heart beat so strongly that it physically hurted. 

You only had one shot. This was it. 

It wasn't until you walked right past him that you finally acknowledged him, gifting him a faint smile as you stepped around him and walked toward the restrooms. 

As soon as the door closed after you, you found the two stalls were empty. After confirming you were alone, a nervous grin took over your features. Biting your lip, you approached the mirror and distractedly began to comb your hair back in place and even retouched your nude lipstick, your eyes set on the reflection of the bathroom door. 

Almost as if you'd timed it, the second you finished applying your makeup and threw it back into your purse, Miguel stealthily slid inside and shut the door after him. 

A minute that felt like an eternity to him transcurred while you kept patiently tucking strands of hair behind your ears, concealing a smug grin. Something had to give. More often, sooner than later. 

"Mind telling me what the fuck was that?" 

His voice bounced off the walls and reached your ears like a once-favorite song you hadn't heard in months. 

"What do you mean?" You calmly asked, never interrupting your task. 

"(Y/N), stop that and look at me." He commanded, his patience wearing thinner by the second. 

"I am looking at you," You nonchalantly replied, your eyes transfixed on his tense shape in the corner of the mirror as you slowly wiped some smudged lipstick off the edge of your bottom lip. 

Outside, the one-minute countdown began. Neither of you could care less. Inside that dimly lit, empty nightclub bathroom, time was irrelevant. 

In less than five steps, Miguel reached your side and, placing his hands on your shoulders, firmly spun you around to face him. 

"Carajo, ¿Tú no entiendes, verdad?" He hissed, his next leaving his mouth after an ominous pause, "Now look at me."

Not happy with the way you were being handled, you shoved him away and shot him a glare with your arms folded before you. 

"There, I'm looking. What do you want?" 

"I want you to tell me who's that asshole and why you seem to think he's so damn funny," 

"I'm sorry, O'Hara, that's none of your business anymore, is it?" You spat out.

"It was none of my business,' He agreed, wincing at the dry use of his last name, "Until you showed up in here looking like that, laughing like a dumb teen at some guy's dumb jokes, making sure I'm watching after you did some pretty extensive research to make sure I was coming."

Wanting to rebuke that argument, you immediately opened your mouth just for him to interrupt you. 

"What? You thought I wouldn't find out, bonita?" 

Miguel started to move towards you without giving you a chance to explain yourself. Still, you weren't sure of what you would've said had you been given the time. Three seconds later, he was standing right before you, trapping you against the cold stone of the sinks.

"Why are you doing this?" He absentmindedly asked, as if he was actually questioning himself or already knew the answer. Before you could react, he suddenly leaned in, burying his face in your neck and taking a deep breath, taking in the scent of your perfume along with something else that you couldn’t perceive but seemed to pull him forward so violently that he had to use both his strong arms on either side of you to hold himself back. Still, he kept babbling against the soft skin of your neck, “I didn’t want to do it…I didn’t…I shouldn’t have…mi amor, I just wanted to protect you,” 

“Protect me from what?” You asked in a breathy whisper, your self-control flaking when you felt him move even closer until your backside was pressed against the sink and your front...

You pressed your lips together to keep a noise that would be much too revealing from leaving your lips. 

Still, you realized your trials and tribulations weren’t over when his hands slowly moved closer to your thighs until his thumbs were tracing faint circles on them. 

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked in a hoarse voice before burying his nose behind your ear once more. You had to want him to stop. Before you could gather up the courage to tell him off as you should, you leaned forward and feverishly pressed your lips against his in a kiss that was all but sweet. Without breaking the kiss, in a display of both strength and coordination that was new to you, Miguel slid his hands under your thighs and lifted you effortlessly, placing you on top of the sink with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the way he nudged your legs out of the way so he could grind his lower half into yours. This time there was no way in hell you could contain your moans. 

Pleased with the beautiful sounds he was eliciting from you, Miguel’s hands found their way back up to the thin straps of your dress, which he gently slid off from your shoulders before gripping your chin in his hand and tilting your head to the side so he could devour every inch of skin available, occasionally trapping it between his teeth to make sure it’d leave a mark. Even in your haze, you could notice there was something new to the way he was ravishing you. It was as if he was desperately trying to be gentle, to take things slow, just for something primal to take over and coerce him into taking you for himself. 

Once again, you stopped thinking when he pressed the hard bulge in his pants against you, the friction over your barely clothed clit throwing all logical thoughts out the window. 

“We don’t have much time,” You urged him, not even sure if he’d locked the door after himself. However, deep inside, you knew your motives had less to do with the little privacy and more with the way he unhurriedly worshipped your body and peppered kisses all over it, how his hands gently roamed it as if he was trying to commit every detail to memory. It reminded you of what you two had in a way that was still too painful to remember. You wouldn’t lose yourself to the memories of your past and miss out on how good he was making you feel right now. Tonight you weren’t two people deeply in love with one another trying to fight back the regrets of letting go of what was most precious to you, but two strangers about to fuck in the bathroom of a nightclub. 

As if to reinforce that thought, he swiftly pushed you further back onto the sink and pushed your legs apart even more, your dress ridding up almost all the way to your waist. You shivered as new skin was exposed to both the cold beneath you and the heat from Miguel’s skin as he fumbled with the fly of his pants. Meanwhile, you kept yourself busy trying to unbutton his shirt with shaky hands and silently thanked he wasn’t wearing a jacket in the first place. You needed to get him out of as many clothes as possible in the little time you had, needing to feel more of his skin against yours. 

Your desire wasn’t fulfilled until the shirt slid off his tan, broad shoulders, and you were pressed against his bare chest, his hands resting at the curve of your lower back as his head barely slid over your soaked slit, prying a raspy moan out of his throat that sounds almost painful. Still, even when you slid your hands around his shoulders and intertwined your fingers behind the nape of his head, he didn’t move further. 

“What are you waiting for?” You breathlessly asked, arching your back towards him with a huff just for him to move his hips away, escaping your touch, trying to regain some control over himself. 

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” He muttered. Shit. Not right now. Out of the whole night, he had to choose this precise moment? No. He hurt you. He owed you. And now it was his turn to shut up and take it. 

Taking advantage of his low guard, you hooked your feet behind his back and roughly pulled him towards you, another needy moan escaping your lips as you felt him right at your entrance, whatever remaining reluctance keeping him from sinking into you. It took every ounce of willpower to keep yourself from begging. 

“Alright,” He finally says, his hands sliding under your thighs to hold you firmly in place, “If this is what it takes for you to listen to me, bonita, así le vamos a hacer entonces.” 

He accentuated his words by slamming into you and immediately picking up a maddeningly fast pace, the loud music outside hopefully drowning out your endless string of broken moans. 

“I just…wanted you to be happy,” He spoke in a strained voice in between thrusts. 

“Shut up,” You snapped at him. You were happy. And it did nothing but further enrage you to see he was unaware of how miserable you were now without him. Or maybe he was aware because he reached that spot that always made your legs uncontrollably quiver and focused all his energy on it as if he was trying to make up for everything. 

“I love you,” He blurted out as he felt you clenching around his length, his hips stuttering for a second before the sigh that left your lips made him lift your leg further up his torso and slam into you with renewed fire, “God, (Y/N) I love you so much, I can’t do this anymore,” 

“Shut up,” You sobbed, this time as a plead and not an order. Your heart fluttered as you heard the words you’d waited months to hear, and feeling him roughly stroke your walls at this new angle became too much for you to bear. A string of ‘shut ups’ and sounds that resembled his name left your lips as your hands fell to his stomach, trying to push him away while paradoxically needing him to be closer, needing to feel more of him just in case this was the last time you felt him stretch you out in a way you were hauntingly certain nobody else would ever come close to. 

And he wasn’t doing any better. He wanted to pull your head against his chest and wrap his arms around you. He wanted to get on his knees and spend the rest of the night apologizing using his words or his tongue, whatever you wanted as long as you went home with him that night. He wanted you to live a happy, normal life. He couldn’t give you that anymore. Not after that night. Not after the accident. 

But those bad thoughts melted away in his brain when he saw your eyes pressed shut, your beautiful, furrowed eyebrows arching over them perfectly as you chased that high that Miguel knew only he could give you. Something that sounded like an actual sentence left your lips so quietly that he had to lean closer to get it. 

“What was that, bonita?” 

You pressed your lips together, unwilling to repeat yourself until another perfectly calculated thrust pried the half-coherent words out of your mouth. 

“Need you…inside. Please, Miguel, please,”  

Hearing his name being called out like that for the first time in months was all he needed to come undone, his pace faltering as he pressed himself against you, strong arms gripping your waist as he spilled his load inside you with one last labored moan. 

Nothing but extenuated pants could be heard inside the bathroom for a whole, tense minute before you finally moved, taking a few sheets of paper from the dispenser next to the sinks to clean yourself up. 

“What are you doing?” He asked as you straightened your dress and tried to somehow fix your disheveled hair. 

“You wanted to apologize, you did, and I forgive you,” You categorically answered, “But don’t expect me to come running back into your arms as if what you did was nothing,” 

Still, you needed him to know there was hope left for the both of you. So you pressed a chaste kiss to his lips and then his cheek, granting yourself one moment of vulnerability as you looked into his eyes with a gentle smile. 

“I love you too,” You whispered, giving in to the urge to kiss him again. You basked in his shocked look before turning your back to him and going back to the party, where you bumped into Liz less than five minutes later. 

“There you are! Where the hell were you? You missed the countdown!” 

It wasn’t until you looked around at the confetti-filled floor and the large numbers on a screen that you remembered. 

“I went to the bathroom,” You replied, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and reaching out to take a glass of champagne from one of the several trays atop the tables, “Where did your friend run off to?” 

“David?” Liz asked, a deep red blush spreading over her cheeks, “He had to go home. I hope you don’t mind, but we’re getting dinner next Friday,” 

“Don’t mind at all,” You replied with a bright smile, eyes already scanning the half-empty club, once again looking for that same face. The one you knew you’d always look for in a crowd for the rest of your life. This time, thanks to the small number of people left, it wasn’t hard to come across his eyes. Amused, you raised your glass at him with a soft, genuine laugh. He did his best to look annoyed, but the minute you tilted your head and gave him your best apologetic look, Miguel rolled his eyes and shook his head with a reluctant smile that made you laugh again before taking a sip of that cheap champagne. 

This was going to be a great year.

[dragonbarbie]

𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍

aemond targaryen x prostitute!reader

rating: 18+, minors dni

summary: jealous!aemond x prostitute!reader; aemond finds himself being pulled in by the most famous woman of the street of silk, but tempers flare when he sees her pay attention to other lords

word count: 2.5k

tags: mature content, sex work, mentions of past chocking, reader being handled slightly roughly in places

note: this is technically a continuation of my one-shot riding a dragon, but can be read as a standalone tbh

it was rare for a woman of the street of silk to actively look forward to a particular client’s visit. love or affection were things to be sold in this part of town, on a per night basis. those moments spent being so utterly naked, vulnerable with someone, were not supposed to signify any real connection between the parties involved. the women simply played whatever role that was the desire of the one paying, and come morning the reality would set in, leaving behind only a pouch full of coin as evidence. and there was no actress more adept at this theatre, than y/n.

she could tell instantly if a man needed her to be adoring or dominating, have her bat her doe eyes at them or a wicked smile. but the dragon prince had been an enigma to her that first night he had visited. his expression was unreadable, but he was prone to a high temper clearly. there was ice in those veins, yet fire behind that eye. she could sense that associating with him was dangerous for her, for he was not the kind of man who would offer her sweetness and warmth, he was fire she risked immolating herself with.

yet, the next night she was entertaining the brothel’s visitors, she found her eyes searching for silver hair in the crowd. though like most nights, that night too there was a line of men showering her with praises for her beauty, her grace, her charm, and yet she felt unsatisfied. she played her part though, ever dutiful. but as the lord who’s name erased itself from her memory as soon as he tied his pants back on, left her after a tedious session, she stood by her window and stared in the direction of the red castle that loomed over the city.

she wondered if he was sleeping in there, probably on a large, comfortable bed, made up for him by a small army of servants. she imagined he had had a full supper complete with wine, before letting sleep come to him. perhaps he was tired from whatever work had pulled him away from her that morning. or perhaps, she thought with a twisted smile, he was lying in the arms of some fine lady, her fine jewellery placed on a table next to his bed, and her fine clothes discarded to the floor.

she chuckled at her own foolishness, for forgetting where she stood, what part of town, what building. how could she have thought for a moment, that a prince would revisit her? he had his dragons, crowns, and ladies. he had no need for her. he would remain a pleasant memory, a story she would tell the younger girls when they ask her about her heyday, about days when her name decorated the tongue of every noble lord in king’s landing, she thought with a humourless smile.

as she slept that night, she dreamt of dragons, castles and bright fire. seven nights passed, until she no longer held hopes of any prince gracing her with his presence.

those seven nights – aemond targaryen was being torn apart from the inside.

on one end, pulling him, was his desire to remain the dutiful son his mother believed him to be, to stick to that code of a knight that cole was always talking about, the desire to be strong – and strong men were not beholden to the charms of a whore.

on the other, was her scent. he could smell her perfume everywhere. it was strong, sweet, it reminded him of flowers that lined his mother’s gardens. it clung to his clothes, to his skin. he found it inescapable, days passed and yet he felt stuck in the memory of her perfume.

he found himself less focused in those days, a fact which infuriated him even more. eventually he decided that perhaps if he fucked her one more time, he could get this longing out of him.

so he donned his nondescript cloak once again, and his feet took him back towards the brothel.

he did not have to waste time looking for her.

he entered the big salon where he had seen her dancing last time, and sure enough – she stood before him on the same raised platform. she was not repeating her movements from last time, he noted as he hung back in the crowd that was intently watching her. but rather than feeling captivated by the way her body moved, as he had originally been, he was infuriated.

the curves of her body were barely veiled in her dress, and on display for every man present to leer at. he was painfully aware that he was not the only one with a right to see her like this, no, he had no right on her at all. then why did he feel like it was something of his which was being stolen, with the way her hips were moving?

he wanted to pull her off that stage and drag her somewhere far from these men, and was fantasising about doing just that, when he saw one brazen lord rise and approach her. he was instantly on alert, but this did not seem to faze her at all, she only gave the lord a mirthful smile. then, the prince saw the silver coin in the lord’s hand, and when he realised that he was approaching to place it in between her breasts – he saw red.

the next moment the transgressing lord’s face was pressed against the wall, blood spewing out of his mouth since the force with which the prince had grabbed him had most certainly broken a teeth or two. there were shrieks that followed at the scene, patrons scrambling. but the one-eyed prince did not pay heed to any of it. his eye remained on her as his hand dug deeper into the lord’s neck.

she stood frozen, taken completely by surprise at his presence. her breathing had become shallow, her feet planted to the ground as her wide eyes stared back at him. somehow his expression seemed to be telling her that she was in fact lucky it wasn’t her who was being pinned by the prince so brutally.

in his eyes, in his twisted logic, she was equally to blame for this, he determined. she was clearly going to allow this other man to grope her – she had been smiling, seven hells.

the commotion had caused for the madame of the institution to come running to inspect the scene, “my prince! you cannot –” she was a firm woman, had it been anyone else causing her customers to panic, she would have told them off immediately, but how do you do that to a prince of the realm? she seemed speechless.

aemond simply shoved the man to the ground, before reaching for y/n. she did not back away, partly because she knew there could be no escape. but what scared her, was that she also wanted it.

he’d come back for her. against all odds, he had come back.

he grabbed her forearm and took off in the direction of the stairs that he remembered her taking him up last time, throwing a bag of coins in the direction of the madame with a heavy thud.

the tightness of his grip, reminded her of how his hand had felt around her throat last time, and she was guessing that this time too she would be left with a bruise to deal with. she did not protest though, as he dragged her to her room and then threw her to the bed.

he was on top of her, knees on either side of her and one large hand holding both of her own down above her head. when his other hand reached down, she thought he was going to chock her again. instead, it reached to place a few strands of her hair behind her ear.

“that was a wonderful performance. it’s remarkable that you have the stamina to practice after allowing all these men to fuck you every night.” he never had to raise his voice at her, but the danger in his tone was evident regardless. as was the jealousy. “i’m a hard worker, your grace.” she refused to let the fear in her heart show on her face.

“‘your grace’” he mocked her, “not many women of low-birth would know the proper way to address a prince. but i assume having fucked lords all your life, you’d have to be incredibly dense to not pick up a few things at least.” he was speaking the truth, plain and simple. and yet, his directness was cutting at her. but there was something more to his tone, she realised, something more accusatory, as if she had offended him by being a woman of the street of silk.

“noble lords such as yourself are very particular about titles, and i’m a fast learner.”

“yes i know, always looking to please. you did a brilliant job at it that first night, saying and  doing all the right things.” the memory of her insisting he remove his eyepatch when he fucked her was fresh in his mind. that one moment had seemed more intimate to him than lying inside her. she had kissed his scar, pretended to be so…affectionate. “but all of it is for show. the accent of a highborn woman, the exquisite clothes, the sweet words, the tender touches, they all hide what you truly are – a woman rotten to the core.”

“a whore.” she agreed. she had heard much worse insults in her life, but this one twisted inside her like a knife. when he had last been with her, he had treated her with more respect than she had known in her life. he hadn’t used her like an object, to be discarded once its usefulness was over. he had been curious about her, careful in his inspection and not hurried by his own desire. where had that man gone?

“yet that fact did not seem to trouble you when you fucked me last time?” her tongue was bolder than she had ever allowed it to be in front of a patron, but a wounded animal would instinctively fight back. “not all of us were born inside castles, or grew up being spoon-fed by servants. my world is leagues beyond yours, you cannot even begin to comprehend the dangers of it and i do not owe you an explanation as to how i survive in it.” she was suddenly very aware that he already had her pinned down on her bed with his body, and beating her senseless for her impertinence would be like child’s play for him. yet all he did, was stare down at her, his eye cold and emotionless. under its harsh gaze, she finally looked away, turning her neck so she wasn’t staring up at him.

“besides,” she felt a few hot tears roll down her cheeks, “if you cared so much about me fucking other lords, perhaps you should have shown your face here earlier.” if he could display his jealousy in such manner, then she decided that she would not hide her grievance at his seven night long absence either.

aemond knew that he could not have this right over her, the right to feel jealous, possessive. she was not his wife, she was not his in any way that mattered. and he was not hers, either. yet, he realised as the corner of his lips turned upwards, she was trying to claim this right over him, by being upset at his absence. he realised she felt it too, this unspoken pull they had towards one another.

“how many?” he coolly asked, causing her to turn back towards him, confused, “how many men… did you fuck… since i was last here?” he slowly repeated. she swallowed at his question, fearing that one wrong answer could earn her more than barbed words. “nine.” she replied, voice quavering. “and how much did you charge them?” that question threw her for a loop. “5 golden dragons each.”

to her surprise, he bent down at her response, and kissed her neck. “i will break–” his lips trailed further down her neck, “—five bones each—”, grazing her collar bone, “—of every man—”, her chest, “—who took what was mine.” a shudder ran down her back as he sealed his promise by pressing his lips to hers.

this time when he lay with her, she noted that something had changed. their first time, he had been less sure, his inexperience showing. now he was more confident, demanding, rougher with his movements. when his mouth laid kisses on her body, she knew she would find herself littered with bruises the next day. when he gripped her hips as he thrust into her, she felt his grip down to her bone. it was as if he we were attempting to touch every part of her skin that another might have lingered on, and leave his own imprint on each inch.

she too, committed her own small transgressions. she found herself moaning for him by name, with each thrust. gone were the chants of ‘my prince’, replaced with her whispering ‘aemond’, delicately as if revealing an ancient secret. if the prince minded such insolence, such disrespect to his station, he did not say.

neither of them attempted to move once they were spent. clothes long discarded, the prince remained slump with his head lying upon her chest, arms enclosing around her. she stared up at the ceiling, fingers absentmindedly playing with silver hair. “i can’t decipher” she suddenly began to say, more to herself than him, “whether you’re the noble knight, brooding, righteous and disciplined; or, the cruel prince, domineering, violent and selfish?”

most days he couldn’t decide where he lay on that scale either, aemond realised. but he answered instead, “for you, a bit of both.” her lips twitched upwards at the response. that, she could live with, she thought. as he shifted to remove his weight off of her, a small whine involuntarily escaped her. she wordlessly watched him pick up and wear his tunic and pants back on, knowing that to ask him of his plans to return would be of no use. but she did have something to clarify.

“it’s not an act.” he stopped tying the string to his pants, and looked down at where she laid. she was refusing to meet his eye, still staring upwards. “you said my “sweet words” and “tender touches” were an act. they’re not an act when it’s you.” her heart was hammering away at her chest as she confessed. she slowly turned to look at him and add “surely, you must know that.” how could he not see right through her, see how vulnerable he made her? she wondered.

when he looked inside those eyes, he saw an unabashed sense of sincerity. but his expression gave away neither acceptance nor rejection of her claim.

he put on his boots and gathered his things. as he stood by the door, he turned to her, “if i hear of you dancing, or entertaining another man for a single night, i will burn this place down and you with it.”

she smirked at his declaration, “is that a promise?”

note: i love this concept so so much not me already having plans for a next part thats maybe?? a touch of fluff? i need it after the angst

[doiefics]

can't we be like the others?

pairing: jungkook x gn!reader

prologue: what was supposed to be mini date turned out to be an argument, but do you and your famous boyfriend even know how to argue in the first place?

genre: angst + established relationship!au + idol boyfriend!jungkook

wordcount: 1,037

warnings: mentions of camsex + crying + possible breakup?

Unlike the hands of the clock that still managed to meet eleven times in twelve hours, you barely met your boyfriend.

When was the last time you saw him in the flesh? Maybe around two months ago, when he stopped by your place for a quarter of an hour.

At this rate one could label it a long-distance relationship if this was how things were going to be even after four years of apparent togetherness.

One thing you realised pretty early on in your relationship was the fact that there was nothing fancy and glam about dating a man this famous.

Dates? That would be counted as a privilege, you could not even let it be know your circle.

The invisible veil somehow always made you feel the distance between the two of you, at times, more than often, he was more of the industry than he was yours.

It was barely the second week into dating when he begged you not to let anyone about this secret love affair because he was scared it would leak out and ruin things for him, he had always been scared.

Video calls were the only means, then, whether it was random calls out of boredom or helping each other with sexual needs.

And phone sex could never be what the touch-to-touch was.

Tonight, you had second thoughts floating over your brain.

Were the time and effort invested worthwhile? Were you a weight for him to carry?

It wasn't like you had no love for Jungkook. You did, and you loved him fervently but love wasn't always shared, sometimes it had to be abandoned.

The dinner table that took you forty minutes to set still found itself in the same condition as before, except for the food that had gone cold.

It was 2:28 am sharp and your boyfriend who promised to reach by 9, was still nowhere to be seen.

The doorbell startled you out of your sleep. Blinking a few times to get used to the brightness, you managed to gather yourself as you made your way to the door.

"I'm sorry." He engulfed you in a hug even before you could properly let him in.

This very feeling of having him with you made you shut your eyes and senses, the only thing that you were focusing on was his presence.

His wood-scented perfume and the cozy fabric of his grey sweatshirt made you melt right on the spot.

"I missed you." Jungkook planted a little peck on your forehead as his starry eyes gleamed into yours.

You nodded and smiled gently.

Similar to how married couples would behave during a disagreement, the supper, although at an ungodly hour, fell hushed.

Jungkook did try to initiate anumber of conversations in the middle, but when he noticed that you mostly just hummed and nodded, he stopped talking.

Perhaps he assumed that you were weary.

Minutes after, you both seated yourselves on the balcony of your apartment.

The sky was full of stars that night, just as your heart was full of uncertainties. 

Moonlight was illuminating your boyfriend's face, he placed himself on your lap.

It's better to let emotions out when you can, or else they end up boiling in a vessel and blasting.

"Jungkook," you hesitated. 

"Yeah?" He looked up at you with those bambi eyes of his.

"What.. what about us?" You stammered, It took a lot of effort to speak these words at last.

What if something awful happened instead?

"What do you mean baby?" He pouted, playing with your fingers before he ended up intertwining them with his own. 

"How long do we have to be like this? Why can't we be just like the others?"

You shook away his hand as you fumed at him, visibly mad at him.

"Are you even trying?" There you said it.

He was quick to get off your lap.

"What on earth makes you think that?" He revolted back. His facial expression was unlike anything you had ever seen, you could tell he was close to tears while still enraged.

"I'm here trying my best to live this life" He reverted, irritated.

The scene changed quickly.

"I can't even recall the last time I could sleep till my content or eat what I wanted to, I can't even breathe without letting people know!"

Jungkook was in a never before seen emotion as he kept on massaging his temples, and all you did on the other hand was sit on the ground as you looked up at his face, tears were now trailing down his cheeks. 

"I still fucking love you." He broke down and got on his knees. 

His phone started ringing, and you were a hundred per cent sure it was one of his managers. That is how it ended up every time, he would quickly grab his phone and pack his bags before kissing you goodbye.

But this time, he didn't. 

"I'm sorry." He pleaded, tear drops falling like rain on the floor.

You stood there the same, reconsidering. Maybe you could never imagine yourself in his shoes, but you were also not unknown to his harsh life and it's requirements.

Without adding a word more, he walked over to you and pulled you into a hug.

The warmth of that physical contact seemed to heighten your feelings, and before you knew it, you were crying as well.

You had lost the track of time by now.

"Jungkook?" You called his name, and that was followed by a hum from his side. 

"What about us?" You asked again, but with a different intention, letting out a chuckle.

"Hmmm, marriage, kids, and lots and lots of sex." Jungkook replied as he crunched his nose. 

"I hope we have two." He added.

"Both girls," His face lit up with pride.

"What do you think?" 

"We have talked about this a thousand times already" You bopped his nose, never getting out of his arms. 

"I can't stop thinking about them already. Our kids are gonna be mwah!" He pouted as he bragged about his unborn kids.

"I wish they have your eyes, nose, and lips..." He traced down your facial features with his index finger.

The sun was already coming up and the glory of the dawn brightened your skin to a tint of orange. 

"I love you" Jungkook mumbled with a soft breath, caressing the top of your hands. 

"I always will."

masterlist please refrain from plagiarising, translating or posting outside of this platform

[hischierdevils]

Body Better | N.H.

note: this is based on the song Body Better by Maisie Peters

summary: you come home from a long weekend away to see your loving boyfriend

warnings: lots and lots of angst

wc: 1.6k

Could lay my head up on your chest

And hear I was good for you

Got your heartbeat at its best

You were it for me

Did I just not do it for you superficially

'Cause you were it for me

You had a long drive back to Jersey City after spending New Years Eve weekend with your friend in Pittsburgh and all you could think about was being in Nico’s arms again. Even though you two texted and facetimed consistently over the three days, you missed him.

Nico’s car wasn’t in the lot when you got home which meant that he was still at practice. It didn’t bother you however, that gave you time to unpack and shower before he came home. Then you could spend the rest of the day with your favorite person.

You had anticipated the house being a mess when you got home from your trip. His clothes were strewn all over the floor leading to the bedroom. For all of Nico's wonderful traits, organization wasn’t one of them. Your boyfriend was sort of a slob and you happily lived with it. Loving someone completely means loving their flaws as well.

You hadn’t anticipated what would be waiting for you in your shared bedroom. The blackout curtains made it so dark that it was practically a dungeon. As you dropped your suitcase down just inside the bedroom door, your other hand slid over the wall looking for the light switch. Once the lights flicked on, the two bodies tangled in the sheets on the bed stirred.

Your heart sank somewhere below your navel as you watched Nico untangle himself from the naked girl that was laying beside him. Tears lined your eyes as they both scrambled to cover themselves with sheets.

“Baby…” Nico got out of bed, wrapping a sheet around his waist. A sheet that belonged to the set his sister had given you both for christmas.

“Don’t.” You warned as you started backing away from him. Your heart was refusing to believe what your eyes were seeing. “Don’t call me that.” A sob escaped your mouth and you quickly brought your hand up to stop anymore from escaping.

You had to get out of the room. You refused to break down in front of your cheating boyfriend and the random girl in your bed holding a blanket to her chest staring at you with big green eyes. Without having any sort of plan, you picked up your suitcase again and headed for the door.

“Y/n, wait!” Nico stumbled after you, cursing in German. “It was a mistake! I love you please, I was drunk! I-”

You whirled on him just before you reached the front door. “I called you last night Nico! We talked on the phone!” Nico was the love of your life. He was the man you were going to marry and start a family with. You trusted him. Then you left for three days and he found someone else to fill your bed with.

Standing before you, holding the sheets tightly in a fist at his waist, he started to cry. You could tell he had been out drinking the night before. Even from a distance you could smell whiskey and cheap perfume. His eyes were bloodshot but you weren’t sure if that was from his previous nights activities or the tears that were freely rolling down his cheeks now.

“I love you.” He choked out. “I’m sorry.”

He tried to reach for you but you pushed him away, breaking your own heart even more in the process. “If you loved me…” Your voice sounded stronger than you felt as you looked into his brown eyes. “You wouldn’t have brought another girl home and slept with her.”

He flinched like he’d been slapped but thought twice before reaching for you again. “Nothing happened, y/n. I just wanted to cud-”

“You’re naked.” You spit the word out as you tried to rationalize that the man in front of you as your loving boyfriend that you would’ve done anything for. “Goodbye, Nico.”

Do you love her?

When you're twisting up all her sheets, do you suffer?

Do I sit there and watch you sleep?

If you love her

Was I just an idea you liked?

A convenient use of type

With obedient blue eyes

“What a piece of shit.” Y/f/n said an hour later when you arrived at her apartment in Brooklyn. As soon as you got back in your car you called her crying. As a number one supporter of you and Nico she was surprised by what you were saying but agreed to let you crash on her couch anyway.

“In my bed?” Your lip wobbled as you sat down and pulled a pillow to your chest. “Why did he have to ruin everything?” Your tears came freely now as you let yourself fall apart in front of your friend. “I loved him so much.”

“I know you did.” Your friend held you tightly, smoothing down your hair. “He was either hoping you wouldn’t find out or you’d forgive him quickly if you did.”

As you sat there crying to your friend, your phone started blowing up from texts from Nico. He asked where you were, if you’d come back and talk it out with him, if you’d just listen to him for a minute. He even asked you if you still loved him.

Your friend eventually had to go to work. Leaving you alone in the house with your thoughts and your phone that you had turned on do not disturb. That’s when the questions started.

Did he know her? Or was she someone random he really met out at a bar? Had they been seeing each other behind your back? Had he cheated on you before? Did he love you? Or were you just someone to fill his time? Did he love her? Was he thinking of you right now? Was he happy you were gone?

Was there something you did that made him cheat? You had gained a little wait since your relationship began. Was he not happy with your body? Was he even attracted to you anymore?

The questions began to eat away at you. You knew reaching out to him was a bad idea so soon after everything happened but you needed answers. Needed closure.

All the hows and the whens and whys

I thought it would be us for life

Was I wrong and is she so right?

Is her body better than mine?

All the clothes and the warning signs?

How's it feel to have made me cry?

Will you tell me just one more lie?

Is her body better than mine?

He picked up on the second ring.

“Y/n?” His voice was hopeful but you could tell he had been crying. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was-”

“Stop.” It had only been about six hours since you caught him cheating on you and your voice was raw from crying so hard. He could hear how choked up you still were over the phone. “I don’t want to hear your excuses Nico. I want you to answer my questions.”

“Whatever you want to know, Schatzi.” Your heart clenched at the term of endearment he so often used for you.

The question slipped out before you could stop it. “Did you call her that too?”

A sigh on his end aggravates you. He’s not the one that's allowed to be upset right now. “Y/n…”

“You did, didn't you?” Anger makes your cheeks flush as your stomach ties itself in a knot. “What’s her name?”

“I met her at the bar when I was drunk. I don’t remember!” He says quickly. “I made a mistake and I feel horrible. I love you so much, y/n. It’s you and me.”

The words sound good and you find yourself wanting to believe them. “If you were lonely, why didn't you call me? Why did you take a stranger home to our bed?”

“You were with your friends in another city and I was drunk. I-”

“This has happened before.” You cut him off, not even phrasing it as a question. “When you're on roadies.”

“I love you.” His voice is soft like he’s started to cry again. “Please y/n…”

“Yes or no, Nico.” You're clutching your phone so tightly you’re surprised it hasn’t snapped in half yet. You need him to answer you, so you know how much has been a lie. “You’ve slept with other women while we were together.”

“Yes.” The last piece of your heart shatters as all of the air escapes your lungs. You double over, letting the tears stream down your face as you gasp for breath. “I’m so sorry. I just get lonely without you. They meant nothing! You are the one I love.”

You slowly sink to the floor from your spot on the couch. The tears are coming so fast now you can't help but sob into the phone. Your thoughts are a jumbled mess in your head as you think back on your relationship with nico. Was everything a lie?

“Please, Schatzi. I hate hearing you cry.” He whispers into the phone. “We can fix this. I’ll beg for your forgiveness every day.”

“I wanted to marry you.” You manage to get out. “Be your wife.”

“I want that too, baby.” His voice becomes more confident, thinking he’s winning you back. “Tell me where you are and I'll come get you.”

That’s when you remember his car wasn’t in the lot this morning. She had driven them to your home. “You ruined everything!” You sob.

“I know.” He sighs. “I know I did. I’m so stupid.”

“Tell me one more thing.” You stare at the ceiling, wishing it would collapse on top of you. You don’t wait for him to respond before asking your next question. ‘Was her body better than mine?”

[in-jail-out-soon7]

Merry Christmas!

In which you celebrate Christmas morning with the Sano household.

Manjiro Sano x GN!Reader

Warnings: Cursing & tooth rotting fluff

Being shaken awake, violently- Wasn't really what you had in mind for Christmas morning. Hissing as your blanket was ripped off of you and the cold air of Mikey's room attacked your bare legs.

The worse part about your boyfriend's room being in a literal garage/shed is that whatever temperature it was outside it was the exact same temperature inside.

Finally gaining some consciousness, you stared up at Mikey who was kneeling on the mattress over you. "Wake up, (Y/N)," He groaned, discarding the blanket he had just stripped from you to the floor.

"Mikey." Stretching your limbs and popping your joints, you stared annoyingly up at Mikey. "What time is it?"

"Why does it matter?"

You groaned and turned over on your other side to face the wall. The mattress raised and the old bed frame squeaked as Mikey jumped out of bed.

Mikey had spent nearly the entirety of Christmas Eve trying to convince your family to let you stay the night and spend Christmas morning with Him, Emma and his grandpa. A box of your mother's favorite perfume set, that he definitely made either Draken or Emma buy- not that he'd admit it- was what made her cave.

However if you knew it would be like this you would've chucked the gift right out the damn window.

You were definitely feeling the effects of staying out until two in the morning riding on the back of Mikey's bike through the city. He had also dragged along Draken and Mitsuya, their's and your complaints about the cold fell on deaf ears. You all knew of the tradition Mikey had formed with his older brother, Shinichiro, and Baji of riding through the winter snow on Christmas Eve.

So despite all the complaints, nobody had left his side until he was ready to return home with you.

A yelp left your lips when ice cold hands gripped the back of your thighs, yanking you to the edge of the bed. Mikey flipped you onto your back, your legs falling over the edge of the bed and your feet landed on the hard floor with a thump.

Left in a weird position with your upper body on the bed and the lower hanging off, your hips tensed then popped. You swung at him with an open hand. "Fuck, Mikey, go back to sleep!"

Mikey slapped your hand away easily and pouted. Without a word he placed a leg on either side of yours and flopped down on top of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"You're The Grinch," he whispered playfully.

"Whatever."

Mikey kissed your collarbone and giggled, vibrating the skin. He stood, but before he could pester you more a voice called from outside the shed.

"Manjiro! Emma wants you and (Y/N) inside for breakfast!" The voice was low and scratchy. Mikey's grandpa.

Mikey called back, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Okay, Grandpa!" Now you had to go with him.

You and Mikey slipped on shoes and jackets over your pjs for the two second walk to the house. The snow crunched under your feet as you made you way to the front door. Mikey opened it, after being out all night and sleeping with no heater both of you sighed contently at the warmth before removing your shoes and jackets.

Following the scent of breakfast through the living room to the kitchen, having to grip Mikey's sleeve so he didn't run head first into the pile of presents under the tree.

As you both took seats around the table the clock on the wall caught your eye.

6:34 A.M.

You don't think you've ever seen Mikey up this early before, and if you have he never went to sleep to fucking begin with. You silently glared at Mikey who was too distracted with the food Emma was currently stacking onto plates.

"Merry Christmas, you two," She said happily turning to face the table. Over a white sweater and black leggings she had on a red apron with a small christmas tree printed in the upper middle. She placed plates of waffles and eggs in front of everyone.

Mikey immediately reached across the table for the can of whipped cream, you pulled your own plate towards you. "Thanks for cooking Emma." You smiled at her as she took her own seat. Their grandfather, Mr. Sano, nodded in agreement, sipping on a cup of coffee.

Scooping some egg into your mouth, Mikey picked at the edges of his waffles. A mess of whipped cream on his plate. "Emma," he whined. "You made the edges of my waffles too crispy."

Emma huffed, pouring juice into her glass. "Than make it yourself next time, and where's that old towel? Not that I'm complaining, you really need to throw that garbage away." She drizzled syrup on her waffles. Mr. Sano chuckled from down the table.

"(Y/N) threw it on the floor."

"I did not!"

Mikey shrugged and stuffed more waffle into his mouth, he ignored the eggs.

Emma turned to you and poured juice into your own glass. You thanked her, took a sip and sighed. "Next time you see it throw it out for me, (Y/N)."

"I will."

Mikey gasped dramatically through a mouthful of food. "No you won't!"

Everyone laughed at Mikey's pout. The four of you continued to chat idly throughout breakfast.

When everyone finished Emma cleared away the dishes, dismissing any help you offered with clean up. Mikey dragged you into the living room, Mr. Sano following close behind after refilling his cup of coffee.

Mr. Sano turned on some random reality TV show and sat in his recliner while Mikey pulled you onto the floor next to him in front of the christmas tree.

"Now, hold on," Mr. Sano said stopping Mikey from ripping open the first present he found with his name on it. "Wait for Emma, Boy."

Mikey sat the present in is lap and groaned. "Emma hurry up!" The sound of Emma rinsing the dishes was the only response he got. Mr. Sano chuckled.

Mikey hung his head, his messy hair covering his eyes. You laughed softly and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear.

Looking down at the gift in his lap, you pointed at the tag. "I got this one for you." Your finger traced over your name written in fancy cursive- that Emma had insisted on writing for you so all the gifts matched.

Mikey tapped on the middle joint of your finger that traced the letters. He reached under the tree, knocking some presents aside until found what he was looking for.

He hands you a small gift with a poor wrapping job. "And I got this for you." You smiled and squeezed the gift softly trying to figure out at least the shape underneath the wrinkled paper.

"Emma didn't get onto you for this?" You giggle.

He shrugged. "I think I did great." You shook your head and sighed. Mikey poked at the present in your hand. "She said if I got to wrap it she got to hide it behind everything."

You laughed at that.

Emma walked into the living room holding a tray of three hot mugs of hot chocolate. "'Kay, I'm here!" Mikey exclaimed a 'finally!' then reached for the mug with the most whipped cream. You took one as well and thanked Emma.

When everyone had their first gift in hand, including Mr. Sano, Mikey was the first to rip the wrapping paper off his. You followed alongside him while Emma and Mr. Sano chatted behind you two on tne couch, opening their own gifts.

"Oh," Mikey said quietly. You looked at him. He gazed down at the now unwrapped gift in his hand: A toy airplane still in it's box.

Your heart dropped at his reaction. "You use to have one right? You told me it broke." Mikey nodded. "Shinichiro gave it to you." He nodded again.

"Yeah."

"Yeah." You repeated. "Sorry."

Mikey shook his head and sighed. Before you could respond about the change of mood an icy hand found it's place on the back of your neck, and warm lips on your own. It only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like forever before he pulled away. His lips were still sticky from breakfast earlier.

"It's the best." He said finally.

"What?"

"The gift. It's the best."

"Oh, good!" You sighed in relief. Turning back to your own gift, you discarded of the last few pieces of paper. You were finally left with a small box. You opened it to find a purple charm. Identical to the one Mikey has been carrying around since Baji's death.

"Open it," Mikey says softly from besides you.

Turning the charm over in your hand, you pull open the slit at the top and pull out a folded piece a paper. You began unfolding it.

It was a picture of twelve year old Mikey and you riding the old moped he use to have before he got a real motorcycle. The photo must've been taken by either Baji or Kazutora because they were the only two not in the background, but you chose not the voice the observation. Draken, Mitsuya, and Pah were blurry figures in the back, but you could still recognize who was who.

You traced over the faces of yourselves, clearly enjoying the experience despite both of you struggling to both fit on the moped. A smile stretched across your face. It had been the day you had tagged along with them to the beach. When Toman was only six members big.

"I didn't even know this photo was taken," you laugh.

Mikey reached into his shirt and pulled out his own charm that contained a photo of all the founding members or Toman. The same charm Baji carried around before his death two months ago. "I found it in here."

Taking a deep breath you refolded the picture and slipped it back into the charm. You turned to you boyfriend.

"Thanks, Mikey."

Before he could respond a flash caught you guy's attention. You both turned around to Emma giggling and Mr. Sano holding a camera.

"Grandpa- stop-" Mikey's exclaim was cut off by the doorbell.

Confused, Emma stood and disappeared into the foyer for a few moments while Mikey continued to pout at his grandpa.

"Throw it away, Grandpa."

"Nah," Mr. Sano said waving around the photo that had just finished processing.

Emma returned a smile reaching up to her eyes. A voice boomed behind her.

"Are we late!?" Draken, Mitsuya, Chifuyu and Takemitchy walked into the living room. All of them holding gifts.

Brushing his messy hair aside Mikey jumped onto his feet and made his way over to the group to greet them.

While everyone else was distracted in conversation you approached Mr. Sano.

"Came to try and throw it away too?" He asks holding the photo teasingly.

You shook you head and laughed. "No." You held up your charm.

"There's somewhere I want to put it."

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling my mom to either get me what I've asked for, or to just get me gift cards?

This probably makes me sound horrible and ungrateful, but this is an issue I've had for about the last ten years of my life. I love my mother dearly, and I am so insanely grateful that we are in a financial position where we can receive gifts at all. I'd genuinely be happy with just a card and a cozy day in, but my mom always insists it isn't Christmas without at least one or two things under the tree.

I always ask her routinely as we inch toward the later months of the year what she'd like, and I do my best to get her exactly what she wants. I'll get her one or two other things too, like some skincare or chocolates or shoes or something, but I always stick to what she actually asks for.

If she asks me for a specific dress, she'll get it. If she asks me for a certain type of perfume, she'll get it.

The same....Cannot be said for her.

I've begged her over the years to just stick to getting me what I ask for. I don't ask for anything expensive. I think the most expensive thing I've ever asked for were concert tickets, and I offered to pay half. I just more or less wanted help actually getting them, because as we all know, concert tickets sell so fast its like you blink and they're gone, and the more people you have trying to get them the more chances of success.

Usually I'll ask for something like a particular poster I saw online, or a bedding set, a new phone case, ect. Small, easy to get things because honestly, I don't need that much.

What I actually end up with is a bunch of random stuff I will never use and clothing I'd never wear and once or twice, tickets to do things I hate doing.

Its like she asks me what I want then goes out of her way to get me the exact opposite of what I've asked for. She always pouts at me and berates me for 'looking disappointed' or never using anything she gets me (I hold onto it for a few months then quietly give it away to a friend or thrift store).

It makes me feel guilty, but this is a conversation we have every. Single. Christmas.

(For example I'll ask for, say, a pair of white shoes. What I'll actually get is a box of wind up toys from the dollar store, expensive paint brushes when I've never touched paint in my life, and a box of chocolates from a brand I don't like.)

This year, once again, she asked me for my list, and I just gave her some stores and told her I'd like gift cards to those places. She gave me a weird look and dropped it, but asked again a few times, and each time I just reiterated what stores I wanted gift cards to.

Well lo behold, I come home from college and there's packages under the tree. Proper packages, not just envelopes or anything else that a gift card would realistically be in.

I guess I was staring at the tree with a weird/sour expression, because it wound up starting an argument between us. Her argument was she's getting me gifts, I should be grateful, and she tries really hard but I'm just 'impossible to please.'

My argument is I tell her repeatedly exactly what I want and not once have I ever gotten what's actually on my list. In which case, why the fuck should I bother writing a list? I'd rather have the gift cards so I can buy exactly what I wanted in the first place.

She said I ask for clothes, I get clothes. I said I ask for specific clothes and she gets me ones that I wouldn't even look at in the store, let alone buy.

The whole argument ended up with her calling me an ungrateful asshole and confiscating my gifts to return them all after the New Year. She told me I can just have the money from returning them and 'be fucking happy for once.'

Its Christmas Eve and she's still not speaking to me. I feel terrible, but I'm also relieved. Either this means from now on she won't get me anything, or from now on if she asks for my list she'll actually get me what's on it.

My dad is staying in the middle. He said I'm right, and over the years he's tried to convince her not to buy all that stuff, but he also said I should've just done what I always do, fake a smile, and get rid of it later.

Is he right or was this fight a blessing in disguise? Am I the asshole for ruining Christmas or am I justified in voicing what I have for the last ten years running?

What are these acronyms?