#not sure what call this au hmm... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wanderingpages · 2 years ago

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peach!! can you write a car sex jurdan smut? it can be short but the concept is so sexy 😭 on my knees rn

∞

“You’re trouble,” Cardan had told me minutes prior, but he repeats it now, more wary than he had been when he said it by the bar. Maybe I had used him then, because it sounded like flirting to me and I so badly needed his help. It’s how I’d always gotten what I needed before. Maybe I thought he was no different, so I took him down to a hall no one ever used and pressed him up against the wall. I smiled at him, feeling shy from his attention but not wanting to admit it. My hands had wound around his neck, and his fingertips traced up my shoulder, guiding my hair to one side. He placed a kiss on my throat and I felt it in the pit of my stomach. Then further up he trailed his soft lips and I gasped. I gripped at his hair to guide his lips to mine. He tasted heady and like the scotch I had given him. Cardan had cradled the back of my head, tilting me as he pressed his tongue into my mouth to open and deepen the kiss. He felt like mine, I felt a little guilty answering his question.

“Jude,” he had murmured against my skin, kissing a patch from my mouth to my throat, then his lips were by my ears and he asked, “What do you want from me, princess?” When I told him, he immediately fell back, only half in a daze but vehemently shaking his no – but I won in the end, because here we are, where I asked to be. I feel only a little remorseful and he’s telling me I’m trouble again.

I tilt my body, trying to get a closer look at the scene, but no matter how much I shift and turn, I can’t quite make out who my father is with, nor what he’s saying. My finger absently finds the buttons on the side of the car, but before I can lower the window, Cardan takes hold of my wrist. I’m already practically on top of him, my knees bracing against the console from the passenger’s side, and a hand planted firmly onto his lap. So it shouldn’t bother me when he pulls me closer, tightening his hold on me. Cardan’s warm fingers encircle my wrists, his thumb right where my veins sing.

I’m alive, he should note. I give him a look, eyes unable to stray too far from his still pink and swollen lips. I did that, I think to myself. I wonder how many other can say the same. And then I realize I don’t actually want to consider that at all. Cardan narrows his dark eyes at me, “Don’t even think about it, Jude.” My name on his tongue always felt like sin, but it’s when he teases me with my pseudo-reign that I feel like penance should only a breath away.

“But -” my mouth feels dry, searching for excuses but he shakes his head, halting my explanation.

“We’re not even supposed to be here,” he seethes, “and if you think we’re not being watched right now, you’re sorely mistaking.” I find myself pouting when he firmly guides me back into my seat, forcing me to gather the rest of my surroundings. We’re in a secluded area, backroads lined with trash bags and oily pathways between buildings. My father is currently having a “business meeting,” as he explained before abruptly leaving. I’ve only ever seen business meetings that take place between alleyways in movies that involve the mob.

When I tell Cardan this, pointedly looking at my father’s silhouette, he gives me a dry kind of look I choose to ignore. So long as he’s looking at me, I suppose. He was left in charge of watching over the club in Dad’s absence, but we both knew it just meant watching over me. I was working the bar tonight, a job my father now is incredibly annoyed with, despite the fact it had been his suggested punishment for my overspending a bit.

“Just because there’s no limit does not mean you get to test that theory, Jude.” I roll my eyes now, because jokes on him; I'm a hit at parties now that I know to mix drinks and do little flairs that I’m quite proud of. I like to impress Cardan with them when he leaves Dad’s office and orders something boring on the rocks. I’m nearly positive that’s the charm that had him following me to that hall and led to him driving me right where we are currently parked.

“Haven’t you heard the saying? Curiosity killed the girl.”

“It does not go like that,” I tell Cardan, unamused.

I’m no idiot, I know Madoc’s club is only half of where our family income comes from, and the guests he entertains in the VIP section are never just guests. Business partners maybe, buyers or sellers, I could never tell. It was the same as usual until Dad had gotten a phone call in the middle of his hosting. It had seemed as if he had been waiting for the call all evening. However, him leaving abruptly made me too antsy to stand idle and make vodka cranberries all night. It always felt like the entire staff was in on a big secret I wasn’t apart of. It didn’t help that lately, Dad had been a little worn down, coming home tired or frustrated, answering calls curtly, stuck in his own head looking haggard. I’m allowed to worry.

“You didn’t,” Cardan says, pausing the sudden gnawing I’d been doing on my bottom lip, “by the way. Your bar tricks are not what got you into my car.” I guess he’s a mind reader now too.

“You’re telling me you weren’t impressed with my juggling?” I didn’t even break a bottle this time.

He sighs, “you probably could have just asked and I’d taken you.” I raise an eyebrow, not believing him since even with all my womanly whiles and eccentric charm, I still had to plead with him to get out here. The side of his lip tilts up in a smirk. “I just like watching you beg.” He shrugs, “So, you would have begged.” His warm voice sends a shiver down my spine. “Maybe I would have gotten you on your knees.” He could still get me on my knees if he asked nicely, but I don’t tell him that. Cardan glances out the window, making a face at the two men. “There’s no point in being here if you can’t even hear what’s being said.”

I nod at this, finding my composure. “Exactly, Mr. Greenbriar.” I grin, “We should move closer.”

“No,” he tells me. He fumbles for the lock but my door is swung open before he manages to press the button. His eyes widen, “Jude,” he scowls quietly when I give him a triumphant grin. Without waiting, I duck for cover, sneaking up closer to the building. “Fuck me,” I hear Cardan moan. “Jude, you idiot,” he mutters, silently getting out of the car and following me. When he’s caught up, he pushes me behind him as we near the corner of the building. “You’re gonna get us both killed.”

“Are you not carrying?” I ask a bit startled. “Wait so that wasn’t a gun in your pocket? You really were excited to see me?” His hand comes over my mouth, and my eyes widen in shock, absolutely enthralled with the way he’s decided to manhandle me tonight. I’m always the one testing boundaries, so maybe my heart pounds a little faster at our proximity more than the shooters probably ready to gun us down – if Cardan is right about us being watched.

“Have you always been this bratty?” I wiggle my eyebrows at him instead of giving him an actual answer. He looks heavenwards before moving to stand behind me. One hand is now across my chest, the other still firmly over my mouth. I lick him but he doesn’t let off. “Of course, I’m armed, but I’m not Superman, princess. I don’t even think I have 15 rounds,” he says the last part more to himself, but that’s news to me anyways.

We lean closer to the alleyway, bracing our shoulders on to the bricks of the building. Whatever Dad and his friend are talking about is only slightly less muffled than before. Its longer than I expect to finally make out pretty keywords like “shipment” and “missing equipment,” and then something that has me ridged.

“You have three daughters don’t you, Madoc?”

“Don’t bring them into this,” Dad responds clearly. My heart beats even faster, I'm all too aware of Cardan’s palm searing hot against the unsteady thumping. He pulls me even tighter against him. Dad says, “I came in good faith to hear you out. You’re the one who lost my supplies.”

“You’re the one who lost two of my guys,” the other man counters, not really angry and seemingly uncaring for the men in question. He makes my skin crawl on sight alone.

“That’s not my -”

The other man holds up a finger, cutting my father off, offending me in the process. His phone had been ringing and Cardan stiffens, as the man answers, eyes still boring holes into my father. “Yes…really? Okay...” He hangs up and tilts his head, “Good faith? Someone’s tailing us.”

“I didn’t -” whatever my dad says, I don’t get to hear. Cardan is cursing, grabbing me by the hand and pulling me towards the car. It’s a struggle because my entire body wants to run to Dad, but the hold Cardan has on me is iron tight. A shot goes off and my body seizes. My eyes go so wide they hurt. I only wanted to know what Dad was hiding, wanted in on the big secret everyone knew but me – wanted some type of undeniable proof so he couldn’t brush this away, brush me away. More shots are fired and I’m too far to know who’s shooting at who.

Cardan pulls open the car door and shoves me in before rushing to the other side. I don’t even have my seatbelt on when he pulls out of the spot. I hear more bangs ricocheting and panic begins to set in, “Cardan! Dad -”

“He’s fine – Balekin wasn’t lying.”

“Balekin?”

Cardan doesn’t exactly answer me, but continues, “Madoc definitely brought back up. No good faith and all that.” He waves his hand and it freaks me out that both hands are not on the steering wheel. It also unnerves me that Cardan knows my Dad’s tells more than me. “We, on the other hand…” he trails off, shifting gears and stepping on the gas. My heart flies into my throat. I hurriedly manage to snap on the seatbelt, but even then, I don’t think that’ll protect me at all if Cardan decides to bend us into a tree or light pole or worse – another vehicle. “God,” he mutters, “you’re so reckless, Jude” he mumbles, “absolute fucking brat,” he continues. My cheeks flare pink but I hold my tongue, scared I might vomit if I talk. I grip at the leather seats so tight I feel my knuckles start to cramp. “And me – I follow you like a fucking dog.” Outside is a blur of lights and the night sky. I'm too scared to look at the speedometer but I know it’s beyond what the legal limit is. The one reprieve is that the road is clear for now.

“I think where in a fifty zone,” I finally manage in a squeak. Cardan side eyes me and I let out a yelp, “Oh my god, pay attention to the road!”

My hysterical tone eases him somehow, because he begins to relax. He eyes the rear view mirror and shrugs, taking a hand off the steering wheel again. My heart is beating so fast that my eyes seem to shake at every little pump. “We’re good,” he lets me know. He smirks at me and when I look sick at his lack of attention to the road, he tells me, “Crack the widow, let your hair down and all.” He does it for me with his free hand reaching to the top of my head, pulling at the clip securing my bun. It unravels just as the window slides down. Air gusts through my hair and stings my face.

My ears are filled with the rush of wind. “I…” My words are lost in the noise.

“It’s okay, princess, I’m a good driver,” he promises.

“What are you,” I manage, hoarse, “Dad’s getaway driver?” he shifts gears and I'm seeing double. Soon we’ll be doing donuts in the parking lot.

He shrugs, “When he needs me to be.” I remember what he said about curiosity killing the girl and that must explain the stroke I’m having. I feel like an idiot – a little girl trying to be much bigger than she is. What the hell would Dad even say if I go to him about tonight? He’d probably gaslight me. I shakily look back, wondering if we’re being followed. I calm when I see that its just us. “Do you trust me?”

I nod my head and settle back into the seat. I try to get my mind off of this, thinking about our kiss from earlier instead. Had only an hour passed since then? I should apologize for leading him on only to get him here. Except I hadn’t really led him on. I’ve wanted Cardan since the moment Dad introduced us. I think him working directly under my father only fueled my desire more. It felt very taboo. However, those thoughts only race my pulse for a completely different reason. Slowly, I release my death grip on the seat and hold my hand out to Cardan. He raises a brow, but takes it anyway, letting me squeeze it tightly. “Yeah,” I whisper. I clear my throat, “I trust you.”

There’s a lot to take in, but I'm trying to stabilize my pulse instead. It’s like an onslaught of adrenaline wafting through me repeatedly and I can’t find a release. The car rolls to a stop just off the highway and into the cover of trees and shrubbery, This feels like an illegal spot to park, but what do I know? I watch in a stupor as the slim needle on the dashboard falls from somewhere in the hundreds down, down, down to 0. I find myself absolutely petrified but yet a giggle escapes me. Suddenly, I have this uncontrollable urge to laugh because if I don’t, I think I might cry.

“Are you okay?” Cardan reaches over and unclips my belt. He then brushes my hair back, forcing my gaze to his. He thumbs at my eyes, tearing up from the wind, and not at all because of the emotional turmoil I’m going through.

The rush that had been whipping past my ear had been halted so suddenly that my head begins to sway. I turn to look at him, uncaring for once how unput together I must look. “Dad…”

“He’s fine,” Cardan says again, sure of himself. “Are you?”

“Not dead,” I confirm, and he gives my hand a little squeeze. I give him a dazed look, and then, I smile softly at him. It must have been what he was waiting for. In one swift motion, Cardan tugs me over the console, guiding me to straddle is lap. My skirt hikes up and Cardan only pushes it up higher. There’s a pulse between my legs and when he pulls me down, his breath tickles my skin, filling me with heat all the way to the pit of my stomach.

“You’re okay,” he tells me quietly. “It’s okay, Jude.” I nod, placing my hands in his shoulder, fingers teasing at his dark curls. I stare at his neck, at the tendon there that I want to place my lip against. I bend down to do just that, letting his steady pulse beat against my skin. “Jude,” he murmurs, tilting his head to give me more access. When I press my lips on his skin, he sucks in a breath.

“I'm sorry,” I whisper, leaning up.

His hands run up my thighs, and if I had survived a shootout and a lone speed race, I don’t think I can survive Cardan and the way he looks at me right now. “For what?”

“Using you?”

Cardan chuckles, and reaches one hand up, working at the buttons of my shirt. Slowly, he pushes it off my shoulders, letting the material fall to the floor, all the while he’s admiring the swell of my breasts, contained only by sheer white lace. He looks up at me, gauging my come down from the adrenaline. I’m still utterly tweaked, and every touch of his is no help at all. My skin is on fire everywhere his fingertips touch. He teases a digit over my breast, up my neck and to my chin, pinching it between his fingers and pulling me forward. “I don’t think it counts,” he tells me. “I would have done this anyway,” he reminds me.

“Oh,” is all I can say.

His lips graze against mine and there’s a heat pooling between my legs. I shift, only to find him already hard and straining in his jeans. “Tell me to stop,” he mouths against me. I don’t. My eyes flutter and I hold on to him tighter. I pick at the buttons of his shirt, slowly undoing them until my cool hands can press firmly to his hard chest. His muscle seem to tighten when I graze them. Cardan holds my wrist gently this time, guiding it further down to his navel. “Come on princess, tell me this is a bad idea.” I stay silent. Even if it was a bad idea, I won’t let it stop. “Then open your mouth for me.”

My lips part for him and when our tongues meet, Cardan moans softly. He pulls me in closer, nipping at my bottom lip, sucking on it until my toes curl. His hand on my thigh slides over my ass and between my legs from behind. His fingers deftly rubbing at the already wet cotton and I gasp out, arching my neck, letting him trace his tongue down my skin. He pulls down a strap of my bra with his free hand, meeting my eyes and keeping my gaze as he lowers his head to kiss the tip of my breast. I inhale when his tongue laves my nipple, drawing it into his mouth. He sucks gently at first, finger rubbing over me just as soft. Then, he tugs my underwear to the side, now parting my pussy just as he begins to suck on me harder.

He makes a noise that vibrates against my skin. I hold his head against me, nearly close to weeping. His teeth graze my skin and I jump, hitting my head against the ceiling of the car. He pulls away from me, his lips obscenely wet and his eyes lidded. He reaches up, rubbing my head before feeling the side of his seat and pulling a lever to slowly recline the seat. “Sorry,” he says and I laugh, despite the ache in my breast and the throb in my pussy. I bite at my lip and undo his belt. “You’re so beautiful,” he tells me and my skin heats up. He pulls the other side of my bra down while I stroke his stiff cock. “Beautiful,” he repeats, I'm dripping between my thighs and his finger rubs me faster.

I go in for another kiss. Not short and sweet like I had been intending. This time Cardan kisses me rough and hard. There’s passion and ache between us. He reaches down to align the head of his cock where it needs to be. He rubs the tip between my slit with one hand, the other moves to come between us, rubbing soft circles into my clit. My knees strain on either side of him, and I let out a whimper when he teases the head shallowly. My hand finds his shoulders, and I cry out when he thrusts upwards, impaling me in one swift movement.

“Cardan!” My head falls forward, into his neck, and I try to muffle the cry into his skin. He gives me little time to adjust before he pulls out and slams back in. My muscles pulse when he pauses again, gripping him in spasms. He groans wrapping his arms around my back, moving me to his pace now, and I try to keep up with his steady pounding, but all I can find the energy to do is lay on top of him and take it as the length of him rubs every tender spot within me. I’m groaning and panting and he’s whispering my name.

“Jude…” my nipples feel so tender, brushing against his chest at every thrust, “God – you take me so good, don’t you?” I feel like I’m being spilt in two and its absolutely delicious. “Does that feel good, princess?”

“Yes,” I say, breathing hard. He thrusts into me harder, and harder and swear he’s rocking the car, but I want more of him, so much more. “Yes – Cardan…” my eyes get glassy, and I shut them tight, pressing my head onto his shoulder. He slows down and grabs hold of my hair, pulling my head back. The slower he moves the deeper he seems to go; the tip of his dick kissing at my womb. I whimper, fingers flexing against his skin

“Look at me,” he whispers, sweat sheening his body now, slick and warm. His eyes are wild and full of lust and I'm so gone for him, so absolutely gone for this man. “Tell me,” Cardan requests in a slur. “Say it again.”

“It feels… so good,” I manage, “ah… more,” I beg and he’s ramming into me now, so hard and rough and then I say, “faster… please…” and it’s so frantic that I grab on to the headrest, bracing myself so I could take everything he gives me. There’s a tight knot at the pit of my stomach, and my cunt is dripping onto him. My heart hasn’t calmed down since the first gunshot but I find that I don’t mind the intense thumping anymore; it makes me feel so alive instead of being on the verge of death.

“Come for me, baby,” Cardan orders. He fucks me so recklessly, and his shaft rubs against my throbbing clit at every deep stroke. I feel delirious, holding my breath and clenching my stomach.

“Ah,” I cry out, back arching. His hand in my hair loosens to roam down my body. “I…Oh,” I bite at my lips, feeling the start of an orgasm that wouldn’t quite come. “I don’t know if I…” my confession trails off as I fall back with his guidance, careful not to honk the horn. He slows down again, torturing me. His finger finds my hardened clit and I scream when he presses down on it.

“You can,” Cardan lets me know. “You will,” he promises, in a breath. “For me, just for me.” My hands are frantic, unsure of what to hold onto. He pulls them around his neck, bringing me over him again. “I can go as long as it takes, princess,” he says into my ear before he kisses me there, then lower until his teeth latches on to the curve of my neck, all while fucking me hard and deep and so dirty, driving into me with little mercy. I’ve forgotten my name, it must be Princess with how much he says it. But it doesn’t matter, nothing matters, just him being inside of me does.

He fucks me endlessly and I bite down on his neck, mirroring him, screaming when I come. It feels so intense, I see stars as I shudder uncontrollably. Cardan cries out too, slamming into me one last time, his climax mixing with mine and it seems unending when I shudder again, tightening my thighs against his. I gasp again when my stomach clenches, “Cardan,” I whimper, slowly coming down.

Cardans hand brushes down my back, soothing me as we both try to catch our breaths. He gently lifts me up, letting his cock slip from me. Come drips out of me, pouring onto him but he doesn’t care and I don’t think I care either. He smooths my hair back and pulls me in for a kiss, soft and slow this time. He reaches between us, and my body jolts when he pets my pussy, rubbing at the soreness sure to come soon. When we pull away, I ask, “Where did that come from?”

“Long time in the making,” he grins wryly, “you already knew that though.” I roll my eyes but jump at the vibration in his pants. His phone was buzzing. He pauses his hand on me and reaches into his pocket awkwardly. It’s my dad’s name on the screen and my cheek runs from a soft blush to full on crimson. Cardan unlocks it and reads the message. He looks up at me warily. “He’s asking why you left early from the bar.”

“Tell him I went for a ride.” I grin.

Cardan fights a smile, muttering, “trouble,” like a praise as he begins to type.

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onsideramen · 5 months ago

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Okay. Okay. mcsm took a hold of me and started to kill me at about the same time I saw the rainworld kiss me kill me map so here we are.

This is highly based off of that map, and the song kiss me kill me by jerryterry !!!

THIS IS A HORROR AU!!!

AU under cut, TW for mentions of gore related aspects + art

I have an au.... based around kiss me kill me... (Either Jestra or Jesskas, dunno which one I'll do yet). The Jesse in this AU uses they/them. They're gonna have red overalls and a green clip :3

So, pretty much, the AU is that Jesse gets a mutated form of the wither sickness from destroying the command block/getting attacked by a tentacle or... something, and it's slowly killing/mutating them into a wither skeleton or weird mini wither thingy. And. oka. when I say slowly, I mean it. This thing takes up to the last episode of the portal arc before it really starts to kick in, and from there would continue between the gap of season 1 to season 2.

Jesse, originally at around 5'5'' (I think??) slowly grows to be more like 9 feet tall or so during that time, along with a purple-ish hue in their skin that slowly gets darker over time until they look like a wither skeleton. This includes becoming literal bone :3

They lose chunks of skin and muscle, leaving their neck (other areas yet to be decided. Probably arms and stomach as wellsies) to be completely made of the charred/burnt bone that is a wither skeleton.

Again. This is REALLY slow, so it's hardly even noticeable at first.

Lukas, Petra, and Ivor notice something's wrong during the end of the portal arc (during the end of episode 8)

Lukas of course is the first to notice that something's wrong with them (actually based off him being the first to notice on their own that Petra/Gabrial is sick!! :3) and asks them, Jesse assures him that it's nothing and that they're fine, and that if it became something they'd let him know.

Petra finds out next and. I'm still trying to figure out how she reacts. Next is Ivor, and he tries to make a potion to stop the sickness (it fails)

Jesse eventually tells Axel and Olivia that there's something wrong and that they wont be able to go to. i dont know . the weekly hangout at the lake or something. and it repeats for the next few months, both of them getting increasingly worried.

Lukas is pissed that Jesse didn't tell him that it was getting worse, like they said they would, so he drags Petra along (more so she comes with him because she worries too) and they check on Jesse.

What they find is the farthest thing from the Jesse they know. Something tall, long, spindly and hardly able to stand upright. Eyes taking up over half the face, almost close enough to morph together into one. Bones showing and sprouting out at odd, inhuman angles. The little skin they still have is a burnt purple color, melting off them and taking their ratted hair with it.

This creature, it doesn't think. It doesn't feel. It only feeds, and it is starving.

Messy little scribbles that may or may not make sense :3

#mcsm #jesse mcsm #mcsm au #horror au #I'm not sure what to actually call this au #or if there's any that are like it I AM SO SORRY IF THERE'S AUS LIKE THIS #Ramen Art #Apologies if this doesn't make sense #It's kinda more a bunch of ideas glued together under a microscope while I go “hmm....”#mentions of gore #Stay safe guys!!#Body horror #MCSM Blight AU

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cloud-somersault · 1 year ago

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AU where Wukong didn't kill macaque (i know, hear me out) and it was a long play by LBD to get Macaque on her side or smth. And Macaque fell for it despite being a master of illusions himself...maybe LBD used the shadows against him? 🤔still playing around with that

anyway, Macaque eventually realizes this after LBD dies and now he's awkwardly got to apologize to wukong about it, but Wukong wants nothing to do with him because he's deeply hurt that Macaque thought he did that.

then: Macaque awkwardly hanging around Wukong and trying to get back into his good graces only for Wukong to blow up at him and vent his hurt and frustrations and macaque is just...really regretful

they eventually make up or whatever, but i saw someone mention they like the flavor of "macaque hanging around wukong, and wukong wants nothing to do with him" and i was like yeah, that'd be easy to make an AU for because there's nothing too complex going on LMFAO

#if this were to be an actual thing from me it'd be called #dust au #but idk when i was typing this out i thought 'hmm i don't actually like this'#idk why LMFAOOOO #it could work but something about things playing out /this/ way doesn't seem right to me #i think i can only get with the 'macaque is a little annoying shit to wukong' if they both legitimately did bad things to each other.#hmm don't like that either LMFAO #maybe because macaque can be a little annoying shit to wukong even if wukong killed him LMFAO #like!! i don't think the petty fighting and macaque desperately wanting wukong's attention is specifically tied #to events having to play out a specific way #in constellations macaque is constantly a little shit. like he wants to hurt wukong sure but he also wants to annoy him #he wants wukong's attention /no matter what/#no matter the au #so i guess it feels disingenuous to be like 'macaque only acts like this in this specific case!' nah #that's just his character #and if macaque is enough of a little shit. then wukong will start walking away

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rafescvntyclubgf · 2 months ago

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𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼

𝙽𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕆𝕟𝕖: 𝔹𝕣𝕒𝕥 ℂ𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕤

𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚔𝙳𝚒𝚕𝚏!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝙱𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

warnings: cheating on spouse (Sofia), age gap (Rafe is her bestfriend’s dad), manipulation, swearing, name calling, pet names, jealous Rafe, choking, spitting, rough sex, pussy slapping, mean!Rafe, ownership kink, degredation

📖 Hooking up with your best friend’s dad only to flirt with Topper at the holiday party, what could go wrong? Rafe will let you know (<- part of the “mr cameron” au but it will be written to be read alone)

Masterlist

Reader’s POV:

“Mr. Cameron, please…” you whine as you crawl closer to him on the hotel bed. “I was only flirting with him to get your attention. What? You can't handle a little teasing?”

“Topper is always watchin’ you, princess. But, you know that. Right? M’sure you do,” he delivers his words in a biting tone, veiled in sweetness that makes the hair on your arms stand straight. Rafe throws his shirt off his toned body, raking his fingers through his hair as your bottom lip pokes out in a pout. “Enough. You’re not gettin’ shit from me,” he clips as he unbuckles his belt.

“I didn’t mean-”

“I said ‘enough!” He shouts, stopping you before you can continue, his deep voice bellowing in your chest, making you shrink. Rafe sinks into his pillow before turning off the light.

“Baby, please…” You whisper as you creep close, resting on top of him, body huddled against his. “I had to watch you all night with Sofia… I just got jealous. I just – I wanted you to see me,” you whisper. “I need you…”

Rafe shrugs you off, bullying you to your side of the bed as heat rises behind your eyes, tears brimming as you try your best not to “cry.”

Stepping off the bed, you slip out of your dress, letting it fall off your frame, exposing your lingerie set.

Sure, Rafe has a jealous streak, but you didn’t think this is how tonight would end. You just wanted to rile him up a little bit… Maybe flirting with his best friend was a little much…

You walk toward the bed, trying your best to change his mind. “Let me make it up to you, Daddy. Please,” you whisper as you reach out for him. Rafe grabs you, forcing you against the mattress, making you gasp in surprise. He tacks your hand above your head, grip tightening as his blue eyes narrow on yours.

“You know what you are to me? Huh? You’re just a hole, my pretty little plaything, a fucktoy that I choose to keep around. I don’t care that you need me. I don’t give a fuck that you want to make it up to me. You made me angry. And now you’re not gettin’ shit.”

You feel a steady pulsing between your thighs as you look into his beautiful eyes, his mouth spitting nothing but vile words. His gaze trails your frame, wetting his lip hungrily, eyeing your breasts, pressed into lacey lingerie, a little garter belt snatched around your waist. “You don’t mean that, Mr. Cameron,” you whisper tauntingly.

“I don’t say shit I don’t mean,” he snarls as his blown pupils match your own. “Suppose you wore this for me. Huh? Thought I fuck this pussy just like you like?” Rafe slaps between your thighs, making you squeak in sensitivity. “Crotchless? Really? N’you wore these to a Christmas party? The fuck is wrong with you? Did you think you’d get lucky, sweetheart? Couldn’t even waste time lettin’ me take ’em off. Wearin’ ’em like the skank you are. Hmm? Good ‘n wet whenever I want it? Such a fuckin’ slut; you’re a mess. M’not gettin’ anywhere near this slut pussy, and neither are you. Understand?”

“Yes…” You sniffle, watching his hardened gaze crack slightly as you get emotional, even if it’s all an act.

“Get to sleep. Leave me the fuck alone. This was supposed to be a romantic night n’you ruined it. Don’t even think about touchin’ yourself. Yeah?” Rafe rolls back to his side again, tucking himself away as you bury yourself in the sheets.

You peer over the covers, listening to Rafe grumble and groan as he battles with his pride, and the rational part of his brain tells him all you want is his attention. He draws a deep, frustrated breath, blowing it out nice and slow.

“Fuck it.” Rafe mounts you fast, spreading your pussy, before pushing inside. You release a breathy cry, filled to the hilt with him; his heavy balls resting against your ass. He buries himself in your neck, forcing himself as deep as he can go. “I don’t fucking share.” He drags his long, thick cock out nice and slow, snapping his hips again, making you wail. “And, I don’t like people lookin’ at what’s mine. You're not lookin’ at Thornton again. Understand? He's not an option for you. I am your only fuckin’ option.”

“M’sorry, baby,” you pant, trapping your plump bottom lip between your teeth as you look up at him innocently.

“You’re fuckin’ soaked. You like gettin’ yelled at? You like bein’ called a little fucktoy?”

“Yes,” you stammer. “M’your fucktoy, Rafe. I'm anything you want.”

“Cock-hungry slut,” he hisses as he pulls out, thrusting rougher, making you moan as you feel his fat cock fill you completely. Rafe wraps his arms around your ass, picking you up, lifting your hips off the bed, rutting roughly into your greedy cunt. The sloppy sounds of your pussy and lewd groans bouncing off the walls.

Rafe slings your legs over his shoulders, pressing himself into you nice and slow. He rocks his dick deep, watching your eyes roll back as he drags out. “You think Top could fuck you like this?”

“No… I don’t. And, I don’t think about Topper, Rafe,” you whimper, voice hoarse and weak.

“Who do you think about, princess?” He drawls as he takes your ankles in his hands, drawing them straight in the air, using them as a pull to fuck you deeper.

“You! Only you, daddy.”

He wipes the smirk off his face, hardening his appearance again. Rafe spreads your legs a little wider, pushing them into the comforter before spitting on your clit; slapping your pussy again.

“Fuck, Rafe!” You scream, making him chuckle wickedly. His body slaps against yours, his other hand wrapping tightly around your throat. You close your walls around him, causing Rafe to throw his head back in pleasure.

“Whose pussy is this?” He moans breathlessly. Your eyes roll back in your head, too cockdrunk to force out the words you both want to hear. “Whose fuckin’ pussy is this?” He snarls, tightening his hold around your neck, an unrelenting cadence as you feel your pleasure near its peak.

“Yours!” You choke, feeling your pulse under his hand as your eyes flutter shut.

“Does my little cockslut wanna cum. Huh? You need it, princess?” You try to speak, but his grasp is too tight. He lets up, delivering a stinging slap to your cheek as you reach for air. “I said, ‘Does my little cockslut want my cum?’”

“Y-Yes. Yes. Please, Daddy.”

“I could stop right fuckin’ now,” He taunts.

“Don’t stop. Please,” you cry.

“Cum for me then. Let me fuckin’ have it,” he grunts, punctuating every word with a slamming thrust as he works his fingers even quicker, pushing you over the edge.

Your body flutters around his cock as Rafe moans your name, flooding you with his seed, panting through jagged breaths as he continues to work you through your climax. His eyes shut heavily as he feels you relax around him.

He wraps himself in you, nestling into the crook of your neck. The two of you reach for a breath, hearts banging against each other. He draws back not soon after, his lust-drunk eyes meeting yours.

“Don’t fuckin’ do that shit again,” he warns. Silence and sex hangs heavy in the air as he waits for you to reply.

“…but you fucked me so good,” you whisper.

He scoffs and sucks his teeth, displeased with your answer. “You’re a goddamn mess. You know that?” He mumbles as he tilts in, kissing your neck, where his big hand had squeezed. “Just ask me to be rough with you, and I’ll toss you around. Aight?”

“But I like when you get angry,” you sigh as your long fingernails scratch down his muscular back.

“Well, you succeeded. You're a fuckin’ brat,” he mutters as he brushes his lips against your ear. “M’serious about Thornton, though… That shit pissed me the fuck off. And it’s not gonna happen twice.”

You draw away, cupping his cheek as you brush his stubble with your thumb. “I know it did,” you whisper. “N’I could tell you I’m sorry. But that would be a lie,” you smile, with a taunting twinkle in your eye that has him rolling his away.

“You’re unbelievable,” he drones. Rafe rolls you on top, his half-hard cock stiffening again at your defiance. He wraps his big, strong arms around your body, holding you close. “You’re mine.”

“For the moment,” you whisper as you meet his soft lips.

“Stop,” he warns, knowing he's never truly in control.

“Make me.”

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wonderjanga · 4 months ago

Text

Marvel and the YJ

So, Marvel in the YJ. He’s one of their den mothers and all that. So like, in this AU, and in fact in all of my posts so far, Billy’s kept it under wraps that he’s a kid. So, as a result, the YJ think he’s just this really cool big brother (dad (they just don’t know it)) type of dude. Like he’s so nice. And he’s so nice to them especially. Like, he treats all of them the same way he treats adults. He doesn’t doubt their abilities, and when they fail, he’s still there to encourage them to get back up and he doesn’t even make them feel bad about it.

Like, the one time he was asked to spar with the YJ cause they wanted to for funsies I guess, he positively whooped their asses and somehow, someway found a way to still compliment their abilities, even if they didn’t last that long because the battle was a little one-sided. To be fair though, they had asked him not to go easy, which he didn’t. In the end, he got promptly scolded by Canary heavily when she found out he quite literally used Kid Flash as a rag doll and threw him at Aqualad. She said that the entire tape of him having a “friendly spar” with those kids, was essentially just him bullying them. To which Billy tried to defend himself by saying those kids were plenty capable. The defense didn’t work.

Then, there was this time Kon mentioned he couldn’t fly and Marvel offered him a lift. This somehow ended up with Marvel sort of T posing mid air as Kon and Robin hung on one arm, Artemis and Aqualad hung on the other arm, then Kid Flash held onto one leg while M’gann held onto the other.

Flash: “Wow.” *looking up at the YJ and Marvel* “That’s… actually kinda majestic, not gonna lie.”

Superman: *also looking up at Marvel and the YJ* “Is it though? What if one of them falls?”

Flash: “Eh. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Kid Flash proceeds to almost slip off and fall, which almost gives both the speedster and Kryptonian a heart attack. Thankfully, he catches himself by moving his feet really fast to boost himself back up. Worst part in their opinion is that Marvel didn’t even seem to notice.

Then, there was the time M’gann with Robin about something. Batman was also working nearby on a computer.

M’gann: “Hmm… We need advice.”

Robin!Tim: “We need an adult.”

Batman: *keeping an ear out cause he’s always happy to help one of his kids*

M’gann and Robin!Tim: *thinking before they speak up at the same time* “Marvel.” *they then both walk out of the room to find the Captain*

Batman: *a little upset that Tim did didn’t come to him for help but also a lot more concerned as to why they thought Marvel was a suitable choice to ask for advice, especially considering the fact that just earlier that day, he had caught the man scribbling on one of the meeting tables like a 5th grader scribbling on their desk*

Contrary to what Bruce thought might happen (I.e. something going wrong) apparently Marvel’s advice wasn’t too bad, seeing nothing had gone wrong yet. (He later found out that the two had asked for the best advice on how to incapacitate your enemy quickly. He found this out when he saw Tim throat punch a man. Said man went down almost immediately. When prodded for information for as to why he did that, he proudly proclaimed “Cap taught me”)

Also a little tidbit from the Marvel Cursing post about the YJ thinking that Marvel called one of them a dumb cunt. Courtesy to @helps-the-writing-brain-go

Billy’s recently noticed that the kids are acting funny. Though, he supposes it’s not a bad funny. If anything, whatever’s got them acting weird has got them doing better on missions, but still. It’s weird. What’s weirder is that whenever he compliments them, they shine twice as brighter than they normally do. What’s even weirder than that is that whenever they’ve messed up recently they look twice as nervous. Speaking of which, this was one of the moments they’ve messed up.

Marvel: “So… Uh- that didn’t go so well.”

YJ: *obvious signs of anxiousness on some and subtle on others*

Marvel: “But that’s okay! But that’s okay.” *trying his best to make the anxiety in them disappear* “We just have to try to be better next time. Like, and I hate to say this, maybe try calling in an adult next time? Like me? I could’ve zoomed over and helped you guys.”

YJ: *look at each other*

Artemis: “Wally’s the one who said that we shouldn’t call you in a try to do this on our own.”

Kid Flash: *dramatic gasp* “You know why I said that! It would’ve helped us all if Kaldur had tried to put the fires near the gas tanks out with his water powers!”

Aqualad: “I was busy being attacked by nearly five different people.”

YJ: *dissolve into arguing*

Marvel: “Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wally what did you mean by it would’ve helped you all? Me not being there would’ve been good?” *confused*

YJ: *immediate silence*

Kon: “Wally found out that you think one of us is dumb cunt.”

Kid Flash: “Dude! You guys need to stop ratting me out!”

Marvel: “What.” *stares in befuddlement*

M’gann: “And then he told us. So we’ve been trying to think of ways to not be uh… dumb cunts.”

Marvel: *blinks rapidly* “Again, what? Wally, where did you get this information from?”

Kid Flash: “When you were making cookies! I heard you say blah blah blah, what a dumb cunt.”

Marvel: *still staring in confusion*

Kid Flash: “Then, when I asked what you were talking about, Mary said you were talking about our performance on missions.”

Marvel: “…Okay. I’m going to be completely honest with you. I don’t remember a thing of what you’re talking about.”

Marvel then goes on to make a speech about how they’re wonderful heroes who shouldn’t let one person’s words guide them, especially in risky situations like a mission. He then told them that he was now going to stress bake and make some Minnesota cool whip, jello, fruit, not really salad, salad. (Courtesy to @jedipirateking) On the bright side though, the speech did leave the teens feeling better.

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rafedarling · 3 months ago

Note

We need drew when rustyns born, like labor/delivery, I think he’s the most supportive partner 😭😭

here are more rustyn for ya.

𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐲

request: OPEN

pairing: drew starkey x fem!reader

summary: your due day has finally come for you and drew to meet your little one. as labor unfolds, drew proves to be the most supportive partner, balancing his nerves with humor, tenderness, and unwavering love.

warning(s): english is not my native language. mentions of childbirth, medical procedures, mild pain, fluff, humour, use of y/n.

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. taglist | tagging: @rafeyslamb @rubixgsworld @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @anamiad00msday @stuffyownswrld @httpsdrewstarkey @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @victwrvale @xoxohoneymoongirl @xoxoblogsblog @wearemadeofstardust0 @percysley @littlelamy

“Drew,” you whispered, reaching over to nudge your husband’s shoulder.

He remained motionless, his breathing slow and even. Another contraction gripped you, and you couldn’t stifle a soft groan. With more urgency this time, you called his name again.

“Drew… babe”

This time, he stirred. His brow furrowed before his blue eyes slowly blinked open.

“Hmm? What’s wrong?” he mumbled, still half-asleep.

“I think my water just broke,” you said softly, offering a small, nervous smile.

The words took a moment to register, but when they did, Drew bolted upright.

“What?!” His voice was shock and excitement.

“Oh my god, it’s happening! Are you okay? How are you feeling? Is it bad? What do I do?” He scrambled out of bed, nearly tripping over the duvet in his rush.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his frantic reaction, though it was cut short by another contraction.

“I’m okay, but we should probably get to the hospital soon. Can you calm down, though? I don’t need two emergencies tonight.”

“Right, right,” he said, running a hand through his messy hair.

He grabbed the hospital bag you’d packed weeks ago, holding it like it was the most precious cargo.

“Let’s go!”

“Wait,” you said, stopping him. “I need to change my pants first.”

“Oh. Right.” He was back at your side in an instant, helping you up with his hands steady on your arms.

His gaze was full of concern as he scanned your face.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Does it hurt a lot?”

“The contractions are getting closer, but they’re manageable,” you replied, leaning into him as he helped you change.

“But yeah, we really need to go now.”

At the hospital, Drew took charge, answering questions from the nurse about how far you are, are you on any special medication and filling out the paperwork as you were wheeled into your room.

Once you were settled, Drew pulled a chair next to your bed, gripping your hand tightly.

“How are you feeling now?” he asked, his voice soft yet anxious.

“I’m okay for now,” you said, though the contractions were growing stronger and more frequent.

“I didn’t realize how many needles they’d stick in me during all this.”

Drew gave a small laugh, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead.

“You’re handling it like a champ. I don’t think I’d survive five minutes of this.”

Another contraction hit, and you gripped his hand tightly, your breathing uneven. Drew immediately shifted closer, his voice calm and steady.

“Breathe, Y/N. In and out, baby. You’ve got this.”

Hours and hours has passed, and Drew never left your side. He held your hand through every contraction, rubbed your back when the pain became overwhelming, and even tried to make you laugh to keep your spirits up. When you hit the ten-hour mark, Drew suddenly pulled out the camcorder from his sister Brooke, who had brought it to document the big day.

“What are you doing?” you asked, raising an eyebrow despite your exhaustion.

“Making a video for Rustyn,” he said, grinning. “Something for him to watch when he’s older.”

He turned the camera to himself first, his smile lighting up the room.

“Hey, Rustyn. It’s your dad. It’s 6 a.m., and you’re really taking your time, buddy. But that’s okay, we’re waiting patiently. Well, your mom’s doing all the work.”

Turning the camera toward you, he continued,

“And here’s your mom. Look at her, look how incredible she is. The strongest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. You better treat her like a queen when you grow up, okay?”

Despite the pain, you laughed softly. “Drew, stop making me laugh, it hurts!”

He chuckled, then turned the camera toward Brooke, who was pacing in the corner.

“And here’s your Aunt Brooke, who’s been on the edge of her seat all night.”

“Rustyn, ignore your dad,” Brooke said, rolling her eyes. “I’m much cooler than he is, and I can’t wait to spoil you.”

When the doctor finally announced it was time to push, Drew’s nerves hit an all-time high. He squeezed your hand tightly, his other hand brushing the sweat-dampened hair from your face.

“You’ve got this, Y/N,” he said, his voice shaking slightly but full of love. “I’m so proud of you.”

The first push was overwhelming, and you let out a cry of frustration.

“I can’t do this,” you said, tears streaming down your face. “Drew, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he said firmly, his eyes locking with yours.

“You’re the strongest person I know. Just one push at a time, baby. I’m right here.”

With each push, he offered constant encouragement.

“That’s it, Y/N. You’re doing amazing. Our boy’s almost here. I love you so much.”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a loud cry filled the room. Tears immediately welled up in Drew’s eyes as the doctor placed your baby boy on your chest.

Drew was trembling as he leaned over, his eyes fixed on the tiny baby in your arms.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Y/N, he’s perfect.”

You stared down at Rustyn, overwhelmed by love and relief. His tiny fingers curled against your chest, his cries subsiding as he felt your warmth.

“We did it,” you whispered, tears streaming down your cheeks, happy tears.

“No,” Drew said, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“You did it. You’re amazing.”

The nurses congratulated you both, while Brooke captured every moment on the camcorder. Drew leaned down, his forehead resting gently against yours.

“I love you so much, Y/N. Thank you for giving me him.”

“What should we name him?” you asked softly, your voice shaky with emotion.

Drew didn’t hesitate. “Rustyn. Rustyn Starkey.”

You nodded, smiling down at your son. “Rustyn. It’s perfect.”

Drew reached out, brushing a finger over Rustyn’s tiny hand.

“Hey, buddy. Welcome to the world. We’ve been waiting for you.”

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writersdrug · 4 months ago

Note

Heyyyyyy!!! So I’m absolutely freaking OBSESSED with your bartender AU… like I’m just eating up everything that’s coming out with itttttt!!! I love your writing so much and I’m honestly so hooked whenever I read your stuff!

I was wondering if I could request something with bartender Simon Riley and it’s where he finds reader crying in the backroom/pantry/stock area of the pub cause it’s been one of *THOSE* days. So he finds her there and sits with her and she just absolutely melts onto him and it’s all very sweet… sorry if this too much info for a request! Again, I absolutely love your work! 🤭🫶

Combining this with a few other asks about reader and Simon having a tender moment + reader having monetary issues

You're rather quiet today - you'd come in and spoken your hello's to everyone, then promptly got to work. Starting on rolling silverware in the far booth, then fifo-ing the pantry and fridge upstairs, then cleaning the bathrooms (you hated cleaning them, which is how Simon first figured out something was wrong). Didn't even reach for the French toast sticks Soap had put under the warmer for everyone. You have an expression plastered to your face as you work. Something between frustration and worry, and it has Price, Johnny, and Simon all on edge. Still, they let you be; it was well-known by now that personal space is sacred to them, and Simon trusts that you'll speak up if you need a shoulder.

Gaz couldn't stay to help drag the kegs upstairs today - something about the Brewmaster being on a trip to Austria, so he was left to watch the brewery. Simon doesn't mind that much. He can easily lift two kegs onto his shoulders and trudge them upstairs to the fridge. He grunts as he moves past the office, careful not to bang the kegs on any corners. Adjusting his grip, he pushes his way into the walk-in fridge-

He sees you, facing the boxes of fruits. "Oh- sorry, luv-" he sets the first keg down, then the second. "Y' need me to reach somethin'?"

You shake your head. Simon furrows his brow, noticing how tense your shoulders are. You're just... standing there. Not reaching for anything, not even looking at the shelves. Just staring at your feet.

You're crying.

All of his duties as a bartender fall to the side. He lets the door fall shut behind him. "Hey, hey... what's goin' on?" he places a hand on your upper back, rubbing his thumb back and forth as he waits for you to turn around. His mind is racing a million miles a minute, trying to imagine what could possibly have you this upset - and what he can do to fix it.

You shake your head, sniffling and trying to control your breaths. "It's nothing, I'm just - just a weird day, y'know? Not sure why I'm crying." You turn to look up at him and muster a smile, though your teary eyes say something else entirely.

He sighs. "C'mon, what's wrong?" He kneels down so that he's looking up at you - something his mom used to do when he felt too overwhelmed to tell her why he was crying. He can't explain it, but it made it easier to let go of whatever was troubling him.

Your lip wobbles, and you cave. Simon holds himself steady as you hug him, his burly arms wrapping around the small of your back. You sob, chest shaking with sharp inhales and sniffles, and Simon closes his eyes and sighs. This is what he wants: to be the lighthouse in your storm, to hold you steady while you began to slip. More than anything, though, he doesn't want you to cry.

He does what he remembers his mother doing. He gently shushes you, heart aching as you fist the back of his shirt and try to compose yourself. He uses one hand to drag an upturned crate behind you, slowly lowering you to sit down. The last thing he wants to do is let go of you, but he needs you to talk. He grabs a bucket and pulls it under him, planting himself in front of you and looking into your eyes.

"Talk to me. What's on your mind, hmm?"

You explain it all through sniffles and sobs: you're mom's recently called and said she wants to visit you. You're embarrassed with yourself, still living in that shitty apartment with your shitty roommate, a marketing degree hanging on your wall that you've never used (believe me, you've tried, but places really aren't hiring). Money isn't tight, but you're not saving - just making enough to exist and occasionally buy the name brand instead of the generic. One thing spirals into another, and you find yourself despairing about how you're never going to be anyone important, you're never going to make a difference - you're not even a cog in the machine. You're just the space between it.

God knows Simon's felt it, too.

"See?" you laugh at yourself, wiping a tear away with your fingers. "It's stupid. I do this every once in a while, right before my period."

Simon grunts. Good to know he can start buying chocolate and leaving it stuffed in the server cabinet. "It's not stupid, luv. You're worried - it's alright."

You cover your eyes, fighting the urge to start sobbing again. "I just... I feel like I'm not doing what I should be doing. I'm not getting anywhere. I thought I was going to be in a corporate office by now, living in a penthouse apartment and travelling wherever I want."

Simon scoffs. "Well, that's just unrealistic."

You huff. "I know. But that's success, isn't it?"

"Is that what you want?"

"Success? I mean... doesn't everyone?"

"Lemme put it this way." Simo leans his elbows on his knees, and you find yourself being drawn in to meet him, arms folded over your stomach.

"I assume you're happy 'ere." he says, looking you in the eyes. "What, with making your silly li'l drinks and swappin' all my shit for somethin' pink, 'n whatnot."

You giggle. "Yeah, I am..."

"Do you want to be happy?"

"I..." you pause. "Yeah, I do. Of course."

"Then aren't you already successful?" he asks. "You're not drownin' in bills - I hope you'd tell me if ya were - and you're happy. Is workin' a stupid corporate job n' livin' above the clouds gonna make it better?"

You looked at his hands, turning over the words in your head. It was stupid. It was the stupidest thing you've ever been worried about - he was completely right. You're happy here. You've never been happier - not in college, not at your data entry job, and definitely not in high school. You laugh, looking down at your own hands. "Yeah, you're... you're right. God, that was stupid-"

"Oi." he says sternly, slapping your knee - you froze, attention fully directed to him now.

"'S not stupid." he says, pointing a finger at you. "Just have to work through this sort of shit."

You watch as he stands and stretches his arms over his head, joints popping and cracking. "Should leave, 'fore we start heating up the fridge." he opens the door, and you quickly stand and follow him on the way out.

"What about the kegs?" you ask, following him down the stairs. "Do you need help bringing those up?"

"Give it time. Let it cool back down in there." He pauses at the bottom of the stairs, hand on the doorknob as he watches you quickly smear away the mascara under your eyes. "You eat anything today?"

You shake your head, fixing the knot on your server apron.

Simon forces his eyes away from your waist. "There's French Toast on the warmer - Soap made it for you. Go take a fifteen."

"But I haven't fini-"

"'M not askin'." he grunts out, pushing through the stairwell door and into the restaurant. He leaves you there to finish collecting yourself, staring after him with a small smile.

If this was you when you had first started working here, you would have thought he was frustrated with you for being so emotional. Now, that's just how you've come to know him. You quickly fix your hair and wipe your face once more, stepping out into the pub. The smell of cinnamon sugar wafts through the air as you make your way towards the kitchen, sparing one last sentimental glance to Simon as he begins setting up his bar.

#was this rushed?#bartender ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost #ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod #ghost cod #cod x reader #call of duty

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charlotteking23 · 6 months ago

Text

Pairing: Lando Norris x bride! reader

summary: they are getting married and Y/N surprises Lando by having a nap scheduled into their wedding day 🤭

Requested: yes anonymous

Warnings: Lando being horny and first time writing social media au.

You sat outside the balcony taking in the light breeze and sunny weather. On your lap lay your laptop, which overflowed with a million events for your perfect dream wedding.

Looking at all the events, you made space for an hour's nap. You knew that wasn't enough to keep you awake, so you could only count on coffee.

But nonetheless, you were looking forward to getting married to the love of your life Lando.

It was no secret you had both been head over heels for each other especially Lando.

You decide to go inside after looking at all the food you were to serve to the guests.

The apartment was open with a nice large kitchen and a big living room with a TV, covering the walls and shelves were some of Lando's achievements in F1.

You watch as Lando appears on the other side of the living room before giving you a hug.

"Hey, baby...were you working on the wedding?", Lando said before taking the laptop out of your hand and setting it on the table beside him.

"Just some final touches", you shrug before sitting on the couch.

"Can I see", Lando grinned taking the laptop already. You only nodded in response watching him open your laptop.

You watch his green eyes scan over the laptop in concentration, making sure to get every detail about the schedule.

"hmm...Baby what is this hour nap time", Lando pointed at the laptop in confusion.

"Oh Lan, you know how I love my sleep," You said laying down on his lap as he moved the laptop a little so it didn't hurt you.

"Yes baby", he smiled.

"Well, I needed my nap time," You said closing your eyes.

"During our wedding", Lando laughed at the schedule, which only made you annoyed.

You sat up quickly, "Yes Lando, I must have the nap time unless you want me to be cranky". You looked away mad at Lando laughing at you.

"Sorry for laughing, but now you are my baby", Lando smiled but it only confused you.

"What...What do you mean??", you said questioning his weird sentence.

"Because a baby needs nap time so I can call you baby wife", Lando laughed at your mad face.

"It's not funny", you said before grabbing the pillow from behind you and throwing it directly at Lando's face.

Only for him to throw it back at you and that's how the pillow fight started with you and Lando throwing pillows at each other before, breaking out in giggles with you both on the floor tired and a mess of pillows around you.

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yourusername: officially Mrs.Norris 🧡

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Landonorris: My beautiful, amazing baby wife

yourusername: Stop calling me baby wife but I love you>3 Landonorris: Never, Love You too❤

Landonorris: you could beat me up and I'd thank you

Danielriccardo: SIMP 🫵 User1: Stop their so cute

Landonorris: WOOF WOOF

Oscarpiastri: Congratulations, good luck with Lando

Landonorris: I thought we were friends

User2: Can Lando fight

carlossainz55: no he can't Landonorris: stop telling everyone I can't fight Carlos carlossainz55: but it's true mate

User3: I don't want Lando, I want Y/N

User4: I want both

Yourfriend: Congratulations!!

User5: Mother is Mothering

alexandrasaintmleux: Loved being your bridesmaid wishing you both a happy marriage, love you 🩷

Yourusername: love you too 🩷>3 Landonorris: what about me charlesleclerc: 🤔🤔🤔

Kellypiquet: Looking so beautiful, P loved being the flower girl 💐

Yourusername: thank you and P was so cute 🥰

liked by yourusername, McLaren, Oscarpiastri, and 3,987,478 others

Landonorris: To my perfect wife, you make my life complete and put up with my bullshit and I cannot wait to love you forever and ever.

And Yes that's a picture of Y/N sleeping on our wedding day ❤️

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Yourusername: Awww Lando WTF is this, I told you that was my nap time. 😴

Landonorris: Hehehehe

Mclaren: Congratulations and Lando leave Y/N alone

liked by yourusername

Landonorris: But she's my baby wife

Username6: Ms.Rabbit has fainted

Username7: Ms.Rabbit has fainted again.

Username8: LOVE THE DRESS

Username9: THEY ARE SO CUTE!!!

maxfewtrell: Congratulations Lando so happy to be your best man and prayers for Y/N for being able to deal with Lando.

Landonorris: What do you mean, I am an absolute angel 😇 Username10: LMAO Lando and Max

Charles_leclerc: Congrats Mr and Mrs Norris.

Yourusername: You were only invited because of Alex

Liked by Alexandrasaintmleux

Landonorris: It's okay Charles, Y/N's only jealous of our relationship 👨‍❤️‍👨 Carlossainz55: What about us! Did our relationship mean nothing to you 😭

Username11: Best Couple award goes to the Mr and Mrs Norris

Username12: HOW DOES SHE LOOK SO PERFECT EVEN WHEN SLEEPING!!!

liked by landonorris, alexandrasaintmleux, and 976,453 others

Yourusername: DJ Norris in the house!!🔥

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landonorris: who is that handsome fellow your kissing, he's looks so fine 🫦

Yourusername: 🙄

charlesleclerc: My eyes, keep it pg there are kids here

maxverstappen1: yeah you 🫵

Username13: how much alcohol was digested for Lando to act like that

danielriccardo: Lando always acts like an idiot Mclaren: I feel bad for Y/N Landonorris: WTF

Landonorris: My baby WIFE looks so hot, my god I want you right now!!

Landonorris: break me, use me, please

Oscarpiastri: Zac said you are banned from using social media

Landonorris: you looked so sexy, baby 🥴

Oscarpiastri: I am scarred for life now Yourusername: look what you did to our poor child charlesleclerc: he's my child, I adopted him Yourusername: Not anymore!! 😒

Username14: Lando is so funny

Username15: And the horniness continuous

francisca.cgomes: Girl you look hot, LUVE YOUU!!

Yourusername: LUVE YOU TOO!!! 🩷

liked by Yourusername, carlossainz55, and 2,628,765 others

Landonorris: Don't worry guys I got my phone back from Mclaren 😄. If anyone was wondering Y/N is fine but she passed out in the middle of the road, way past my baby wife's bedtime😴.

View all 15,382 comments

Yourusername: I'm just a girl 🎀

Landonorris: 😒

danielriccardo: Photo creds where?

Username16: Only Y/N would do this

Username17: She's love's her sleep Username16: probably more than Lando

maxverstappen1: I'm surprised Lando can carry Y/N

Landonorris: I am strong 💪 carlossaniz55: sure mate sure

Username18: seeing Lando being made fun of by Carlos and Max is hilarious.

Username19: Y/N passing out on the road was not on my F1 bingo

Username20: it was on mine

Yourusername: I told you to stop calling me baby wife

Landonorris: but it fits you so well 🥺 Yourusername: really are you making that stupid pout again Landonorris: No.....Yes, pleaseeeeeeeeeeee!! Yourusername: Ugh fine 🙄 Landonorris: good because your name is officially Baby Wife Norris 😁

Username21: giggling and kicking my feet seeing how cute they are😊

Username22: I am too single to be here

Landonorris: OH MY GOD

Landonorris: I want her to wrap her legs around my head😫

Mclaren: LANDO, we have a meeting tomorrow about you getting PR trained! Landonorris: oops hehehe 😁

1K notes · View notes

thestrangepoet · 4 months ago

Text

The Ninth Life | The Magnus Archives One Shot

Based on @ultramarinaa's Cat!Martin AU, and not upon @coworkerjonathan's soul-destroying tragic version of it. If you want that version, it's here.

CONTENT WARNINGS: Buttocks-clenchingly sweet fluff.

DISCLAIMER: I, once again, wrote this in an hour and haven't proofread it. Forgive the typos and any “first draft” vibes.

──── •✧• ────

[CLICK]

Oop, yup, it’s on! Right, erm…This is Martin Blackwood, Archival Assistant at the Magnus Institute. I thought it would be a good idea to—

[A VERY LOUD, VERY RASPY HISSING CUTS MARTIN OFF]

[A LONG, WEIGHTY PAUSE FOLLOWS; SOMEONE IS BEING GLARED AT]

What? I-I mean, given the absolute palaver we just went through, shouldn’t we record what happened and how we fixed it?

[SILENCE FOLLOWS. BUT MARTIN EVIDENTLY GETS HIS ANSWER]

Exactly! Right, so…ah-hem. This is Martin Bla—

[ONCE AGAIN, A LOUD HISS]

What? What is wrong with—No, Jon, you’re going to hit the—!

[CLICK]

[MARTIN RUFFLES SOME PAPERS, THEN EXHALES LOUDLY THROUGH HIS NOSE. WHEN HE SPEAKS THIS TIME, IT’S SOMEWHAT TAUT]

Statement of Martin Blackwood, Archival Assistant at the Magnus Institute, London, regarding an encounter with a feline-based Leitner book called The Ninth Life. Recorded by subject, October 17th, 2017.

Happy now?

[LOUD PURRING NEAR THE TAPE RECORDER SIGNIFIES THAT MARTIN HAS INDEED DONE A PASSABLE JOB]

Good, good. Right, oop! Yeah, okay, you can…sit on my lap while I record this. That’s not…that’s not weird at all. Knowing you’re…you’re Jon.

…You could at least sit like a cat, Jon. No, no, no, don’t get the claws out, it’s fine! Sit how you want! Heh…K-keeping an eye on me, hmm? While I record? Oh, r-right, yeah, ‘Get on with it, Martin’, noted!

So…about ten weeks ago, I came across a book while tidying through some of the old statement boxes. I’m not sure why it wasn’t in the library or in Artefact Storage, but I suppose that’s a mystery for another time. A-anyway, I had a flick through to try to figure out what it was. Could have just been a normal book, you know? E-especially since it wasn’t put away properly, I mean, really, that’s a health and safety risk that wasn’t my fault, and—Ow! Claws!

R-right, ‘Stay on the subject, Martin’, loud and clear…

Where was I? O-oh, right. So I took it through to the break room, sat down with it, flicked through, read a few…err, well, ten pages to be precise, and basically, it was written like an old fairy tale. Something about a man who turned into a cat to get away from everyone and…W-well, what I’m trying to say is that it didn’t seem like a Leitner!

I’d probably have finished reading the whole thing, but the microwave dinging made me jump and look up. No one usually uses the microwave outside of lunch hours, but Jon actually makes cups of tea by microwaving mugs of water and then—Ah-ah-ow! N-no, I’m not getting claw-bullied into not telling people the heinous way you make tea, Jon!

Right, right, fine! Yes, so, microwave dings, I look up from the book, and…I drop the book. And I drop to the floor, a-and the book’s suddenly huge, and there’s Jon, and he’s looking at me, and…

…and I was a cat. I-I-I guess Jon hadn’t noticed me in the break room before putting his mug in the microwave, because he didn’t realise I was me. Next thing I know, I’m being picked up, held over his shoulder, petted and cooed at and—Owwww, claws, claws! Right, okay, no, no one can know Jonathan Sims has a heart, right you are!

E-erm, so…Yeah. Panicked a bit. I-I tried to make it obvious to the others that it was me, but they just didn’t cotton on. And I couldn’t read the book to figure out if the ending would tell me how to turn back. O-or if I even would turn back. Honestly, in any other situation, I-I might have been really terrified, but it’s hard to keep worrying when people are suddenly stroking you and giving you all this affection. Heh, Jon even named me Champion.

But, right, I-I really needed to turn back into a human. You know, as lovely as it was to be liked by everyone, I figured, well, it’s deeply unprofessional to turn into a cat at work, isn’t it? And I really didn’t want to be written up for unauthorised absences when I was technically in the room?

It took a while – I don’t know who moved it, but the book had gone when I managed to slink back into the break room, had to wait for someone to open the door for me, you see – but I eventually found The Ninth Life again.

It took ages to drag it over to Jon’s desk. And even longer for him to stop laughing and telling me what dedicated little chap I was. He picked up the book though, and I got so excited that someone would finally realise a Leitner was in play that I jumped up onto his desk and…

…and I…erm…I knocked his cup of tea over the book.

I could feel my heart sinking. What if I’d ruined it? What if the answer was all smudged up? Jon could tell I was upset, and he started trying to pet me and calm me down, mopping up the tea and everything. Took a while before he got back to the book, and, well…the bookplate had been smeared by the spilt tea, I guess, because he didn’t see any mention of Leitner at the front. He started reading the book, and I tried to nudge him to read the back pages first, to get to the answer before the book could turn him into a cat, but he, erm…well, he read it. Five pages, we think.

And there he was.

One minute, Jon’s at his desk, the next, there’s a little black cat with too many scars sitting in his chair.

Well, after he’d stopped hissing, running around the room – Tim thought he had zoomies, ha ha! – and bapping me on the head every time I got close, he realised who I was.

And then, he bapped me on the head again.

So. We were both cats! And it’s so funny, because in the office, Tim and Sasha and me, we all say how Jon gives off major black-cat energy? He’s like this poor wet cat in human form, and now that he was a cat, and it turned out, he is…w-well, he’s not very good at being a cat?

[A LOUD HISS – EVIDENTLY, MARTIN HAS FORGOTTEN JON IS SITTING THERE]

Don’t hiss at me! You know it’s true. I mean, look, you’re literally sitting in my lap now like a human. Cats don’t do that, Jon! It looks weird!

R-right, okay, let’s, erm, get on with the story – ah, statement, statement! – before I get scratched again.

S-so, right, Jon wasn’t really getting the hang of being a cat. He kept clambering up onto desks to type on keyboards, trying to tell Tim what was happening. He wouldn’t even jump up onto the desks, he would literally shimmy up the leg like he was climbing a tree. And, yeah, he doesn’t sit in your lap like a cat, all curled up, no no, he sits…like a person sits. So I figured actually, this was pretty good, someone had to realise something was up with this cat that just wasn’t catting.

But no. No, no, Tim just laughed and named Jon Skrunkly and got on with his day.

[A LONG, LOW MIAOW OF CONTEMPT IN THE BACKGROUND]

Nooo! You’re not skrunkly at all, Jon! You’re a very handsome little kitty!

[A HISS]

Right, right! Back to work! Erm, yeah, so, there I am, trying to teach Skr–err, Jon how to act more like a cat. Not because it would help get us back to normal, but because I was worried? He kept falling off stuff, not landing on his feet…jumping and missing things…He was having a really hard time, and I figured if we were stuck like this indefinitely, it might help to, you know…teach him a bit?

And then, one day, he just…vanished. I wandered in one morning from the canteen, ‘cause Sasha had snuck me a plate of milk, and I couldn’t find Jon anywhere. Tim realised pretty quickly that something was up, that I wouldn’t settle down, and then he noticed Skrun–err, Jon, was missing.

It took days for me to sniff him out. Which is…a really weird thing to say out loud. On record. Erm. I sniffed my boss out. But it’s insane, as a cat, the difference in senses, a-and to be honest, my eyesight was dreadful because I obviously couldn’t wear my glasses. A-anyway, sniffed him out, and realised he had somehow fallen into the tunnels through the trapdoor? Which is weird as well, ‘cause the trapdoor is always closed. No one would have opened it?

[ANOTHER LOW MIAOW, BUT THIS ONE SOUNDS STRANGELY LIKE SKRUNKLY IS TRYING TO SPEAK – IT ALMOST SOUNDS LIKE HE’S SAYING ‘SASHA!’]

I know, Jon, you’ll tell us when you, erm, get back.

So, now I knew where he was, I went into full hyperkitty mode. I was zooming around, miaowing, pawing, jumping on Tim, jumping at Tim, launching myself off bookshelves, you name it! Somehow, I managed to get the message across, and Tim went to open the trapdoor.

I…I hate going into the tunnels. I really, really hate it. But Jon was down there, and as far as we knew, he’d been down there with no food and water for days! So, down I jumped, with Tim clambering after me telling me to slow down. I kept sniffing, and it was actually pretty easy to find him after that!

There he was, curled up and shaking near a wall, and I ran towards him, miaowing my head off so he knew we were coming to the rescue, and…

And I…changed back. Right there. Just pop! There I was.

Tim, erm…Tim screamed. Jon hissed and nearly ran away. It was chaos, and…I’m actually surprised all three of us made it out. Especially with Jon going wild on Tim and clawing him every time he tried to pick him up. What was that about, anyway, we were helping you!

[ANOTHER GRUMBLING MIAOW – DID SKRUNKLY SEE SOMETHING IN THE TUNNELS? OR SOMEONE? WAS HE TRYING TO TELL THEM?]

We got back up to the office, Jon in tow, and now that I could speak, Tim, Sasha and I managed to hash out a theory.

Basically, we figure that there are a lot of Leitner books that kind of do different things depending on how much you read of them. S-so we have one on record, A Disappearance, if you read one line, you disappear for a bit. But, if you read the whole book, you disappear from the world for good.

I read ten pages of The Ninth Life, and I was a cat for ten weeks. Checks out! So we reckon Jon read about five pages, and it’s been three weeks, so…two weeks of Skrunkly to go!

Right, think that’s it. Yeah! So, erm, if you’re looking for a cure for The Ninth Life, just enjoy your time as a kitty and wait it out! U-unless you read the whole book, in which case, erm…I-I really hope you enjoy your life as a cat.

End recor–Ow! What did I miss off this time?

[SEVERAL LIGHT THUDS SOUND]

Why are you pawing the book, Jon? I…oh. Right.

Erm…I think Jon wants it on record that, erm…the book is eleven pages long. And…and I read ten pages.

[THUD-THUD-THUD!]

Yes, yes, all right, you microwaving your tea saved me from an eternity as a cat! That does not mean I am going to let you continue to ruin perfectly good cups of tea like that!

[A LOUD MIAOW OF PROTEST. MARTIN SIGHS]

Recording ends.

[CLICK]

#tma cats #cat!martin #tma fanfic #the poet's writings

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thefreakandthehair · 2 months ago

Text

jacket.

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles | prompts: jacket | wc: 999 | rating: teen & up | tags: alternate universe- no upside down, alternate universe- coffee shop au, different first meeting, musician!Eddie (if you squint), barista!Steve, platonic stobin, meddling Robin, flirting, fluff, getting together, requited pining

“Need me to grab the mop bucket?” Robin asks, leaning forward and into his field of vision.

Steve snaps back into reality from an elongated daydream to find Robin staring at him, grinning maniacally.

“Did I spill something?” He checks around the back of the display case, finding nothing.

“No, you’re just drooling, that’s all.” Robin shrugs and claps him on the shoulder. “You ever gonna talk to him?”

“I talk to him every day, Rob—” Steve starts but doesn’t get to finish because the Him in question appears.

A chill blows through the door along with him, a dusting of snow stuck to his sneakers and dotting the shoulders of his leather jacket. Steve’s not sure how he’s even wearing that thing over what looks to be several layers of teeshirts and under a thick, denim vest laden with hand stitched patches.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” Robin whispers and scurries away, smirking.

He hates her.

He loves her, but he hates her.

“Hey, Eddie,” Steve welcomes his favorite customer, feigning normalcy because he’s anything but normal about this man he can’t stop fucking daydreaming about. “What’ll you have today?”

“Hmm,” Eddie ponders, throwing his jacket over the back of his usual chair at a bistro table by the window. “What was that gingerbread whatever the fuck you made yesterday?”

Steve laughs, his nose crinkling. “I don’t think that’s what it’s called but if that’s what you want, I can make it for you.”

“Sign me up, big boy. Give me something hot and sweet,” Eddie winks and hands Steve a few dollar bills, their fingers grazing. Steve’s heart thumps in his chest as he tries to remember how to work the stupid cash register. Eddie pockets his change and heads over to the small table.

Steve does his best not to stare, but the coffee shop is quiet today and he can only pretend to clean the countertop so many times until that becomes more obvious than Steve just… looking. So he looks.

Like every other day for the last few months, Eddie whips out a notebook and sips the sugary abomination as he writes. Tapping his pen against the laminate of the table, scratching his chin, watching out the window, and then writing in unpredictable bursts only to repeat the cycle again and again. Steve doesn’t know anything about Eddie and asking what he’s working on in this private little notebook feels invasive.

Not that he doesn’t wonder out loud when Eddie’s not around— it’s why Robin won’t stop teasing him.

The snow continues to fall, sparkly fat flakes that stick to the sidewalk as Eddie works, and writes, and taps his pen just loud enough for Steve to make over the low hum of the holiday music they’re forced to play.

“Fuck!” Eddie shouts, startling Steve out of his thoughts as he scrambles to shove the notebook into his bag. “Sorry, I’m just, I’m late for a really important practice and just realized the time. Thanks for the coffee, Steve!”

“You’re wel—” The bell over the door chimes before he can finish the word, “—come.”

“Goddamn it,” Steve sighs.

“Still nothing?” Robin pokes her head out from the backroom where she’d stayed hidden for absolutely no reason.

“No, Robin. Still nothing. He’s a customer and I don’t wanna be a creep, okay?”

“It didn’t stop you when we worked at the ice cream parlor. Or the video store. Or the—”

“I’ve evolved! Give me some credit!”

“Oh, look!” Robin ignores him and walks past him to grab a leather jacket off of the back of Eddie’s chair. “He left his jacket! You can start a conversation when he comes back for it, right?”

“Who do you think I am? Cinderella?” Steve laughs, but takes the jacket all the time.

Robin rolls her eyes. “Well, technically, he’d be Cinderella. He left this jacket behind like some sort of metalhead glass slipper.”

“Let me try again: who do you think I am? A fucking Disney prince?”

“You could be if you tried harder.”

Steve doesn’t respond, just shakes his head again and quietly takes the jacket home with him for safekeeping. He’ll give it back to Eddie tomorrow, and maybe Robin will stop making jokes about Disney movies.

Except Eddie doesn’t come back the next day.

Or the day after that.

A week passes, and Eddie still hasn’t come back for his jacket or his daily coffee that’s more syrup than coffee, but Steve keeps the jacket, brings it back and forth to and from work every day for over a week.

It’s a bitterly cold morning when Steve eventually breaks. Eddie’s leather jacket hangs over his arm, like it has every morning, and he stops at a crosswalk to throw it on over his own bomber jacket. Warm and rich, he lifts the top collar up over his face to protect his frozen nose and inhales the remnants of smoke and musk.

When he finally makes it to the shop, he breathes a sigh of relief that Robin cranked the thermostat.

“There it is,” a familiar voice pops up behind him. “I thought I left it here.”

Steve’s not cold anymore, hot embarrassment flushing from his chest to his cheeks as he turns around and sees Eddie there, sitting at a table with his notebook and a smile.

“I was— I wasn’t—” He sputters.

“Robin told me, don’t worry. Why don’t you uh, why don’t you hang onto it today and maybe give it back to me tonight? Over dinner, if you’re free?”

He can’t even be mad when Robin looks at him from over the counter with a very conspicuous thumbs up.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m free,” Steve agrees, maybe a bit too quickly but subtly has never been his strong suit.

“Oh, and Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“You should wear the jacket,” Eddie's face flushes as he pulls a lock of hair just in front of his lips. “It looks great on you.

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #steddieholidaydrabbles #myblurbs

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miamidorin · 4 months ago

Text

𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬

pairing ── kim minji x female reader

summary ── in which when a phoning live with minji had fans going wild and crazy for both of you... are you really not a real couple behind the scenes? (it had fans thinking.)

contains ── wholesome, whipped and clingy minji, a bit of a dense/naive reader, x-smau, hungry tokkis for georgie, idol au

taglist ── @flyingcigarettes

[masterlist]

── ── ꒰🦋꒱ ── ──

"do you have any favorite lipstick, y/n?" you read. your eyes beam when someone finally mentions it, "yes, i do have one! it's a very very cute one, and i have been wanting to show this to you guys for quite some time..."

minji watches you standing from your seat and heading to get your bag. you rummage through it, not noticing minji staring at you with low-lidded eyes.

you come back with your hands intertwined and a large smile on your face, sitting back down on the chair with minji's arm resting on your chair's armrest.

you looked excited as you took another second to read the comments, "are you guys ready?" it was like talking to kindergartens. it made minji smile knowingly behind you.

then you open your locked hands, revealing a rather medium sized lip balm. "it's a caramel flavored, guys! one of my favorite flavors in the world is chocolate and caramel."

you rotate the mentioned item to the camera, making sure to get every detail you could get.

"since they don't have chocolate flavored, i took the caramel one! it's called 'nikky luck balm' and it's one of the infamous ones out there, so i just took it without hesitation." you laugh, opening the lid and turning to minji.

"i'll let you smell it first."

you said as you reach the open lidded balm to the older girl, who kept her eyes on you before averting it away to lean close to the item. she sniffs and lets out a small hum of content.

"oh, that does smell so nice. do you have it on you today?" she suddenly asks, leaning back to her chair as she stares at you blankly.

you blink before shaking your head, "i haven't actually. wait, let me just-" immediately, you turn to the camera and slightly get close to apply the lip balm onto your lips.

minji continues to watch you, covering her mouth with her hand and her cap slightly shielding her eyes from the camera, but anyone can catch a glimpse of where it landed.

pursing your lips together, you smile happily to see your lips gleaming and neatly applied. you were satisfied at your own work. "heh."

when you turn to minji, you give her a look when you notice her blank stare. "you want some too?" you ask genuinely, not seeming to notice what's going on behind minji's eyes.

minji blinks twice before smiling and removing her hand from her mouth, "sure." as if you know, you gently rub your finger on the balm and carefully apply it on her lips.

with the same finger you used to apply the balm on your own lips.

her lips are instinctively slightly parted for you to have better access on applying it, and you appreciated that small gesture.

but of course, you didn't notice her gaze on you.

after a little while, you sent a rather cute smile— unintentionally, but you were excited and satisfied— and leaned back to look more at minji's gleaming lips with your balm.

"hmm. looks great on you~" you hum in satisfaction, nodding your way as you slowly turn to the camera while closing the lid of your lip balm.

beside you, minji turns to the camera and smirks with one of her brows bobbing slightly.

fans were screaming in the comments and certainly squealing in real life, anyone can tell.

─────

"you know, my mom..." you started, looking into her phone to look for your conversation with your mom. minji was leaning towards the camera to read the comments.

when she hears you letting out a small sigh, she turns to you to listen attentively.

"she keeps sending me money even when i told her not to." you sulk quietly, pouting at minji as you gave her your phone. she took it and read what you both were talking about.

"i told her not to send me money because they need it for their grocery every week. even dad tries to convince her that i'll manage, but like," you shake your head with pursed lips.

minji didn't even finish reading the conversation, already had her head to you. she ended up staring at your lips as you talked about your mom and dad.

until the very end of the ranting, she didn't take her eyes away from your lips but she had to when you turned to her suddenly, thinking that she wasn't listening to you.

fans always catch on these kinds of things, so it became so obvious that they're flaming the comments again.

─────

you were starting to feel hot in your comfy jacket, then when looking behind for the remote, it was actually turned off.

"wait," you muttered quietly, standing from your seat and walking towards the remote to turn it on. but knowing that the aircon will take time to cold up the room, you decided to remove your jacket.

"girl, you didn't even notice the aircon was off?" you chuckle, sitting back again with your jacket on your lap, revealing your black tank top that was underneath the former jacket.

she shrugs, taking a quick glance at your top before looking at your jacket. "give." she only said before snatching the jacket from your hands.

you didn't mind, though you gave her a look again before turning to read the comments and replying to them.

and minji just burying her face on your jacket before putting her legs up and rest her chin on her knee with your jacket underneath her head.

─────

after leaving minji alone in her live to buy snacks and drinks since you haven't eaten yet. she insists that she'll buy them instead, but you were stubborn and immediately left the room, leaving minji alone sulking.

talking and chit-chatting with the fans to kill time, and after a little while, you finally came back with the familiar paper bag. you grin towards the camera and immediately sat on the chair, handing the bag to her.

"i bought a lot, so choose any." you coolly tells her, leaning forward to the phone to read the comments.

feeling the eagerness, minji quickly opens and take out a snack that she first saw. "ohh, i like this one! dani likes it too, i think." she said, reading the name of the snack before ripping it open.

hearing the sound, you turn to her to see her munching on it already. you laugh at her chubby cheeks, holding back the urge to pinch them and instead, you shift towards her and opens your mouth.

minji glances, cheeks turning rosy. she takes one from the wrap and carefully throwing it onto your open mouth, her fingers accidentally brushes against your pink lips.

she tries not to flinch at the sudden shiver, but seeing you smirking at her while chewing the food made her heart erupting like a volcano.

though, she plays it cool.

minutes later, you were drinking your soda while minji was still eating with a new snack this time. you burped quietly as you place the soda can on the table, then you felt a soft nudge.

you turn to see minji bobbing her brows at you, "soda?" she mumbles softly, and damn, it sounded so small and adorable to you.

chuckling, you take the soda can from the table and hands it to her. minji takes it from your hand and drinks it directly, not bothering to distance her lips from the spot you were drinking.

fans, at this point, are destroying the comment section on live.

─────

"i love this perfume because i got it from hanni's mom! she's the sweetest, i swear," you cry, moved by how sweet your member's mom is to you despite not seeing each other too often as you hoped.

you lightly describe the scent of the perfume and how you take it daily ever since you received the item. minji listens carefully and remembers something.

"oh, this perfume? ohh, i really like this smell too!" minji chimes in, excitement in her voice was visible as it got louder. "the members also like it, especially dani and she has never stop trying to go to you to take a sniff."

you both laugh at the memory of danielle constantly sticking to your side everywhere because of your scent. even during practice and you were a bit sweaty, but that didn't stop dani from, basically, breathing the scent of you.

(weird? ok.)

the perfume scent lasts longer than a day, and since you had it last night on your skin, the smell was still there, fresh as new. and minji— oh, minji.

moments later, she was already sniffing and smelling you while leaning on you. you kept yapping about your day and moments with your members, and you just let minji do what she wants.

even if that wants is her leaning on you and smelling your perfume with a soft smile.

oh lord, please help thy bunnies fans.

── ── ꒰ end ꒱ ── ──

#newjeans #뉴진스 #newjeans minji #kim minji #minji x you #minji x reader #newjeans minji x reader #fluff #smau

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chuluoyi · 1 year ago

Text

studying for dummies

- fushiguro megumi x reader

you have an important exam coming up and are having a hard time to study. luckily, your boyfriend knows how to make you feel better

genre/warnings: college au, total fluff !!!

notes: i love writing college aus for megumi bc he never got the chance to in that cursed manga called jjk :') to the nonnie who asked for this, i knew i have to write it when i received your ask ehe <3

general masterlist

"Why is this so hard..."

Megumi turned to you, sliding his headphones off with a questioning look when he heard you sigh once again, plopping your head down on the textbook. "What if I don't make it? What if I have to repeat a year? Ugh..."

Megumi continued to stare at you, with a flat expression. "So long as you study, you'll pass."

You threw him a sullen look, irked. "I know that! But studying itself is hard!"

The graduation exam was fast approaching and everyone in your grade was losing their head for a reason. Well, not your boyfriend though. While you were busy cramming your poor brain with ethics and physics in his apartment, Megumi was leisurely stuffing his ears with his headphones and catching up to the latest chapter of his favorite manga, without any care of the impending doom.

"You have to take breaks," he scolded then, truly meaning well. "You can't go on without food or rest. And don't overthink it, I'm sure you'll—"

"That's easy for you to say, Megumi—you're a natural genius," you interjected, crestfallen. The stress of failing several tryouts just got to you before you realized it. "Unlike you, I'm a dummy. I have to actually study."

Megumi remained quiet, watching as you turned back to your textbook, determined to give it another shot. Seeing your discouraged expression, something in his heart softened slightly.

And in that moment, he knew what he had to do to lift your spirits up.

He walked over to the little kitchen in his apartment to whip you some lunch, and throughout it all, you were still fixated on your studies, occasionally talking to yourself.

"Can Yuji even solve this problem...? I can take being called dumb but surely I can't be worse than him!"

Megumi found it amusing that you used his best friend as your benchmark for passing. Your way of expressing it brought out a low chuckle from him. How adorable.

Many were wondering what made him to date you—Fushiguro Megumi was always on the top of his class, stoic and indifferent, while you were just... you, a go-getter with cheerful personality that made up most of your academic shortcomings.

To Megumi, you were like a ball of sunshine that he didn't know he needed though. And now, wanted to protect.

While you were still lost in your thoughts and tangled up in physics concepts, he came back to you, gently patting your shoulder. "Hey, I made lunch. Want to join me?"

And needless to say, your eyes lit up with literal stars as you whipped your head towards him. "Yeah!"

Seeing you that excited made something inside Megumi soar. He had always been fond of your smiling face. Watching the fatigue melted a bit from you as you sat down in front of him, a subtle smile found its way onto his lips as well.

"Ooh, hotpot! Megumi, thank you!"

"Yeah, yeah..."

"Mmm! This is tasty!"

"Mm-hmm, have your fill."

You were giddy as you finished your lunch. It was evident that he had prepared the hotpot with your preferences in mind, choosing almost all of your favorite ingredients.

And you were feeling daring now that you knew that he was keeping you in his thoughts.

"Megumi, if I can score higher than 70% in that exam..." you started, smile gradually widening. "Can we celebrate it by going on an overnight trip to Kyushu afterwards? You know... just a little something to look forward to..."

Your boyfriend immediately fixed you with his unwavering gaze, even with his cheeks still filled with rice. But he didn't dwell on it long as he nodded lightly. "Sure."

"Really?!" you beamed, totally bursting with excitement. "Eeep! Megumi! You’re the best!"

How could he ever say no to you when your eyes were literally shimmering with glitters? Megumi never had it in him to. And hey, a trip for two to commemorate your graduation sounded so nice too, it was actually making him eager.

And so, with your tummy full and energy recharged, you enthusiastically redid your mock-up exam. And when you got 90% this time, Megumi actually initiated the first move and pulled you into his lap, giving you a light smooch on the cheek.

“Whoa...” you were so ready to tease him, poking his pink-tinted cheeks. “Do I get a kiss for every mock-up exam well done now?”

He huffed—flushing, turning away with slight frown. “To give you something to look forward to, remember?”

#fushiguro megumi x reader #jjk x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk drabbles #megumi fushiguro x reader fluff #megumi fushiguro x reader angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader fluff #fushiguro x reader #megumi x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk imagines #fushiguro megumi fluff #fushiguro megumi x y/n #jjk #megumi fluff #megumi fushiguro #jjk fluff

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humanpurposes · 5 months ago

Text

August

Part 2: Tell Me What You Want

You and Aemond are getting closer. Things aren't so hostile but there's a new kind of tension between you and it's starting to get unbearable.

Aemond Targaryen x Reader // Modern AU

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Read on AO3

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected p in v sex, sexual tension, competitive siblings

Words: 8k

A/n: thank u for waiting everyone, I had a rough few weeks of character building 😙 This is a three part series so one part to go

Nights like these come straight from a song, a music video from your favourite band, a moment in a book that stays with you for weeks, months. Crackles and pops come from the fire, smoke and embers rise into an inky sky dotted with stars. In a few months you’ll be looking back on the memory, wishing you could have bottled this feeling, or let it drag its feet so it would never have to end.

The wine has gone to your head. You’re blissfully fuzzy, your mouth slightly numb, a sickly sweet taste lingering on your tongue. Helaena and Aegon are in hysterics over something Daeron has said, a joke from years ago that the siblings had all forgotten until now. Even Aemond cracks a rare smile. You’re sat beside him tonight, leaning against his arm. His hand sneaks its way onto your thigh underneath a blanket, tracing patterns on your bare skin, dangerously close to the hem of your shorts.

The light from the fire looms over his face and you watch him like you did on the beach below Dragonstone. His smile is less refined than the rest of him. You’re not sure what makes you think this. Maybe it’s because he tries to hide it and shrink into himself. Maybe it’s because his mouth is a little crooked and you’re not used to seeing his teeth.

He turns his head to look down at you. Your heart is frantic in your chest; his nose is so close to yours. You could tilt your head a little further and capture your lips with his, but you won’t, not in front of Helaena and the others.

His eye glances across the fire at his siblings. “Ah,” he mutters under his breath, understanding your hesitation.

You allow your head to settle against his shoulder, adjusting your body, letting yourself mould into the shape of him. “This is nice,” you say with a sigh, just loud enough that only he will hear.

“Hmm,” Aemond says, the sound of his voice and the steady beat of his pulse humming through your chest and limbs. You wonder what he’s thinking about, what’s happening behind that beautiful eye.

Settled against Aemond, a different sort of tipsy ensnares you. Your eyelids are heavy, your body feels at ease. You start to worry if you don’t get to bed soon you won’t make it at all.

Aemond nudges you softly. “You’re falling asleep there, darling.”

Darling.

“I think I should go upstairs,” you mumble.

“Come on,” he says, whisking away the blanket so the mild air jabs at your skin. His body is gone, his warmth is gone, but he’s standing above the bench, holding out his hand for you to take.

When you stand you stumble a little. Aemond’s hand clasps around your wrist to steady you. Your eyes meet his and you giggle to stifle your nerves.

“Lightweight” Aegon calls.

“Piss off,” you return with a grin as Aemond walks you towards the patio doors.

Somehow your arm finds its way to become intertwined with Aemond’s. He leads the way through the gold accents, tall windows and mirrors of the west gallery, but with the light gone it takes on a gloomier, eerier air, darkness reflected into darkness, broken by the chandeliers overhead. You gaze up at the soft light and sparkling crystals. In the morning you’ll probably have an awful hangover, but for now everything around you takes on a fascinating sort of beauty. You hardly realise you’re losing your balance and falling into Aemond.

He holds your hand as he guides you up the stairs, along the route towards the east wing. When you come to the corridor where your room is, Aemond’s arm snakes around your waist. His fingertips linger softly against your skin, above your shorts where your top has ridden up a little. You don’t mind– gods, he could do anything to you and you wouldn’t mind.

With this thought, you look at him. Your legs move slowly but synchronised, one slow step after another. You lift a finger and trace it along the length of his nose, down to the little cleft at the tip.

He huffs a laugh. “What?”

“I like your nose,” you say.

“Thank you.”

“I’m just being honest.”

“I like you being honest.”

You both come to a halt when you reach the end of the corridor and the door to your bedroom. Aemond’s hand slips from your waist but he lingers, watching you, his eye roaming over your face. You don’t quite reach for the door handle yet.

“You didn’t have to walk me,” you say. It’s not dreadfully far to get from the garden to the moat room, and besides, you know your way around Dragonstone now.

“I didn’t have to.” Aemond takes a step into you, placing a wide palm at your side and guiding your back against the wall. He sighs slightly as he exhales and excitement floods in your gut. “Maybe I just wanted to get you alone.”

What can you possibly say to that? The lowness of his voice has rendered your mind useless. But you’ve been wondering if that’s what he thinks when he looks at you. It’s hard to tell with Aemond. His pupil is blown wide, wine, darkness, wanting. His lips are parted and each breath he takes is a gentle stroke of air on your skin.

“You could have just said,” you utter.

His hand tightens at your waist. “Now where would be the fun in that?”

His lips are curled at the corners and it’s just too inviting. He inches closer into you and like a jolt of electricity has sparked in your bloodstream, you surge into him. You melt into one another so effortlessly, lips and tongues, his hands on your sides pulling you into him, your arms around his neck and your fingertips teasing his hair.

It’s been inevitable, hasn’t it? All his smug glances, the way he catches your eye in a crowded room or across the garden. It’s pure energy, hot and visceral, every part of you overwhelmed and yet craving more.

He pauses for a breath and kisses you again, then pauses again. He makes a humming sound in his throat and squeezes your body in some kind of finality before he steps away.

You don’t understand it. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no, of course you haven’t,” he says quickly. He takes a breath and runs his hand through his hair, his gorgeous, gorgeous hand. “I just… it wouldn’t be fair on you right now.”

You frown. You know you’ve pushed past your usual limit of drinking, and Aemond seems at ease, not in a state where he should be questioning his decisions. But then that probably makes him the sensible one and you haven’t realised how far gone you are.

“No, you’re right,” you say, unable to look away from his eye.

Aemond swallows thickly. “I want to, I really want to.”

“Me too,” you say, heart starting to sink, or is that just the wine?

“Gods, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you’re reaching for the collar of his t-shirt, pressing your fingertips into the fabric and the hard points of his collarbone underneath, “we can be grown ups about this.”

He curls his hand around your wrist. “We get on, don’t we?”

You shrug, hoping he’ll think you’re not that bothered. “I think so.”

“And I think we could have some fun together.”

“Fun?”

“When we’re both in the right mind.” He lifts your hand away from his chest and brings it to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss against your knuckles. His eye stays fixed on your face, bright blue and hypnotising. You watch his lips, savouring the feeling of them against your skin. You could pull him into you, beg him to kiss you until you can’t breathe…

“Because you’re cute,” he says with a soft click of his tongue.

“Cute,” you repeat.

He leans in to peck your lips. It’s quick, nice, cute.

“Sleep well,” he says and turns away, wandering idly along the corridor.

“You too,” you say after him, finding your voice feeble and quiet. Before he disappears from your sight you throw open the door to your bedroom and hide yourself away inside.

Back against the closed door, you breathe and clasp your fingers over your mouth to hide your smile from the empty room.

The next day you skip breakfast, needing a lie-in, some painkillers and a large glass of water, provided by Helaena knocking on your door long after you’re usually awake.

“I didn’t think you were that bad last night,” she says, opening one of the windows.

“I’m not usually a wine drinker, maybe that’s what killed me off,” you grumble, wincing at the light she lets in. Maybe it’s the wine, maybe you just need the sleep, maybe it’s the image you’ve been replaying of Aemond’s body pressing into yours and his vague promise floating around in your head. “I think we could have some fun together…”

You snap yourself out of that pretty quickly considering his sister is perched on the edge of your bed.

“And Aemond walked you up, that was nice of him.”

Apparently there’s no escaping it. “Yeah, it was.”

“So… he was all over you in the garden last night.” When you drag yourself to sit up Helaena is looking eagerly at you.

You blurt out without even thinking, “nothing happened.” You need to get it off your chest, but saying it out loud you don’t feel especially relieved, more embarrassed.

“No of course not,” Helaena says with a mischievous grin. “But you’ve been rather friendly with each other since your little misunderstanding.”

Enough for his siblings to notice at the very least. “It’s not weird, is it?”

“Is what weird?”

You tilt your head with a pleading look.

“Oh babe,” she says. “No, not weird at all. If anything it’s a little obvious, Aegon’s been waiting for the penny to drop for weeks.”

You cover your head with your hands and groan. For you, attraction, liking someone, has always come with a sense of humiliation. Your friends don’t get your type, and while Aemond is a little unconventional for you he fits the bill well enough, tall, smart, not too boisterous. He also just happens to be pretentious but subtle and perhaps even sweet… the more you think about him the deeper you’re digging yourself into this hole.

Healena is clearly in hysterics but is trying not to laugh too much to spare you. “It’s cute actually, Aemond’s been a bit… well it’s nice to see him being excited about something for once.”

Once you’ve regained a bit of composure and gotten over the fluttering feeling in your chest, you say, “he kissed me last night.”

“Liar! What happened to ‘nothing happened’?”

“I thought maybe he was a bit drunk.”

“Are you joking? He looks at you like a lost puppy.”

“Please don’t tell me that.”

“No look, here’s what you do. You and him are living under the same roof for another, what, two weeks? What have you got to lose? Live a little, flirt with him, and don’t overthink it.”

If only ‘don’t overthink it’ was a sentence that could actually compute in your brain.

You’re lying in a lounger by the pool in one of your bikinis, having moved on from Crime and Punishment to Frankenstien. Your body is lathered with suncream, the scent of artificial coconut clinging to your skin. The sun makes you sweat, but you’re enjoying the position you’re in.

Then you take a breath and you smell the cigarette smoke.

You don’t move your head too obviously, your sunglasses hiding where your eyes are looking, but you see Aemond at the edge of the patio, as close as he can get to you without stepping onto the grass. He’s dressed in a black t-shirt and shorts, sunglasses perched on his nose as he watches you. Even from a distance his gaze burns into your skin, you can feel it writhing there.

You wish you could be closer, so you could hear his inhales and exhales, see the flexes of his hands as he lifts the cigarette to his lips, the pout as he blows smoke into the air. It’s intoxicating. It’s infuriating.

He disappears into the house before you’ve reached the end of your chapter. You tut to yourself, furious you hadn’t read the lines fast enough so you could accidentally run into him on your way inside. You swing your legs round and slip on your pair of sandals. “Don’t overthink it,” you whisper to yourself. So what if he looks but never comes over? So what if he left whatever this is between you as a wine-fuelled kiss outside your bedroom? When all he had to do was open the door, lay you down on the bed. You would have said yes, sober or not. Would he?

Don’t overthink it. Whatever happens happens.

You leave your towel and book by the pool, but you need a drink to fight off the dry feeling in your mouth. Or maybe you’re just restless. Maybe you need something else to do than sit around and wait.

You go into the kitchen, thankful to see there isn’t anyone around. No Criston sitting at his laptop, no Alicent leaning on his shoulder. There’s noise coming from the staff kitchen, tonight’s dinner prep, which won’t be served for a good few hours.

In the fridge you find an array of drinks, all sorts of iced teas and flavours of lemonade all in glass bottles. You pick the first thing you see, something pink and labelled as raspberry flavoured. As you’re digging through a drawer trying to find a bottle opener, you hear a few soft footsteps against the tiled floor. There’s a faint scent of cigarettes and aftershave.

“Want some help?” Aemond says.

Conveniently, you close your fingers around the bottle opener. “No, actually, I’m all good,” you say, turning around to flick off the metal cap.

His eye follows your hand as you place the cap and the opener down on the counter, as you bring the bottle to your lips and take a small sip so that the drink doesn’t fizz.

He’s a friendly distance from you, not close to touching you, but every muscle in your body tenses. You’re so aware of everything he does, the subtle change in his gaze, how his eye darkens as he tilts his head down to look at you, how he holds his mouth, how his nose twitches ever so slightly when he breathes.

And you’re painfully aware of how indecently dressed you are, how good you thought you looked when you last checked your reflection, a bead of sweat trailing down the side of your neck. Can he see it? Does the heat drive him to restlessness too?

“This is nice,” he says, looking over the bikini, a shade of blue that compliments your complexion perfectly. You see his hand twitch at his side.

Is he thinking about touching you? Is he desperate to pull you in like he did the other night?

“Do you think so?” you say, leaning back on one hand against the counter, waiting for his eye to come back to yours. “You’ve never complimented any of my outfits before, Aemond.”

His eye seems to light up when you say his name. “Doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate them.”

You take another casual sip from the bottle, watching how his throat bobs when he swallows.

He takes another step forward. He’s testing the waters, you realise, seeing how close he can come before you squirm. You take your weight off your hand on the counter, closing the distance by just another fraction.

“Did you think about me last night?” he mutters. You’re close enough that you can hear him, even when he speaks under his breath.

“After you left me standing outside my bedroom door?”

He raises a brow.

“Maybe I did.”

“I thought about you,” he says.

“But you didn’t do anything about it.”

With one more step he’s pressed against you, the counter digging into your lower back. Aemond puts his hand at your waist, his thumb resting on your front, not firmly, but noticeable. Your breath hitches.

Aemond smiles to himself. “I said we should both be in the right mind, and you agreed, didn’t you?” His hand trails, moving down to the waist of your bikini bottom. He slips two fingers under the fabric, sliding them up, along the conjuncture of your thigh and your hip.

You dig your teeth into your lower lip for a moment, determined to keep your composure, desperate to deny him the satisfaction even though it’s already written all over his face. He can see you’re breathless, that your heart is racing in your chest.

The pull to him is like gravity, something that binds the world together, crushing and impossible to deny.

He leans over your, his lips hovering by your ear, circling an arm around your middle. You can smell the beads of sweat on his neck, the scent of his shampoo, something naturally him that you think will linger in your mind for a while. “So why don’t we stop tip-toeing around each other and enjoy the rest of the summer?”

Why shouldn’t you? Really, why? It’s been so long since you felt a draw like this, since you felt wanted. He’s grovelled enough surely and something about his mask of perfection slipping to reveal something primal and reckless, excites you. Proud Aemond Targaryen, digging his hands into your flesh, grazing his lips over your ear, your jaw–

Your eyes flicker to the door. Daeron’s standing in the doorway in his tennis gear, face pink and sweat dripping from his silver hair.

Aemond notices you’ve frozen. He slowly pulls away and glances over his shoulder. His posture instantly shifts.

“Alright, kids?” Daeron says, shoulders swaying as he walks into the kitchen.

Aemond’s standing in front of you, nudging you with his hand to keep your body concealed behind his. From over his shoulder you watch Daeron take a bottle of iced tea from the fridge. He opens the cap on the side of the counter.

“Don’t stop on my account. I’m not even here.” Daeron chugs from the glass bottle, making a smacking sound with his lips and taking a breath with a smug “ah!” when he pulls it away from his mouth.

Aemond turns to face you. “Thinks he’s so fucking funny.”

Daeron shoots you a wink. With the moment firmly crushed under his younger brother’s Asics tennis shoes and Adidas socks, you slip from Aemond’s grip.

“I’m gonna get my book,” you say.

Aemond angles his brows like he’s begging you to stay, but he lets you go out to the garden without much more of a fight.

His lingering stares and double takes are becoming more brazen now.

You sit with your parents that night at dinner. Your father tells you about the golf club on the neighbouring island of Driftmark, which Corlys Velaryon is insisting the men should all go to visit sometime this week. It’s not far, a quick journey on one of the yachts. Your mother had gone into the town today with Alicent and shows you the photos she took of some adorable clay figures of animals and seashells in a local craft shop.

This doesn’t seem to deter Aemond at all. He’s where he usually is, at the head of the table, looking over at you every so often while Helaena speaks at length to him. You catch snippets of this one-sided conversation, sea birds and prey, wingspans and something about dinosaurs?

The distance between you is starting to feel unbearable.

After dinner Aegon leads you and the others to the library where he rummages through a floor to ceiling shelf of DVDs.

You and Aemond find yourselves sat together on the same sofa, with space for an extra person between you. Helaena is elated when she finds Dreamfyre the cat curled up on one of the arm chairs, scooping her up into her arms and hugging her close to her chest like a teddy.

Daeron takes the other arm chair, his arms full of snacks. He throws a packet of salted popcorn at Aemond and it hits him on the blind side of his face. “Fuck, sorry.”

Aemond turns his head to you and gives you a pointed look.

You tilt your head. Ignore him, you think, then realise the absolute insanity of thinking that Aemond can hear what you’re saying in your head. You huff through your nose, a smile on your face, and shuffle closer to Aemond so you can claim the popcorn. The fact that you’re sidled up to him and his arm has found its way around you to get more comfortable is a happy coincidence.

“A-ha!” Aegon presents his finding like it’s an ancient heirloom; a copy of American Psycho.

Helaena groans.

“It’s a masterpiece,” Aegon insists.

“Yeah, I so want to spend my evening watching some self absorbed investment banker brutally murder women.”

“Even if he’s played by Christian Bale?”

Helaena does a double take of the DVD cover. “Put that shit on right now.”

As Patrick Bateman goes through his psychotically perfect skincare routine, does crunches to the sounds of screaming women and lodges an axe in Jared Leto’s face to ‘Hip To Be Square’, you and Aemond melt into one another. It hits you how settled you feel lying against Aemond’s chest, your ear against his ribcage so you can feel his heartbeat, your head rising and falling with his breathing. His fingers start to trace over your arm, up and down, lulling your mind until you’ve forgotten to be nervous about being so close to him, so self conscious that you might be in the wrong position, how your cheek might look slightly squashed against him.

It’s not very ‘Letterboxd enthusiast’ of you to be thinking less about the film, instead wondering if Aemond will walk you to your room tonight, if he’ll kiss you again, if he’ll ask to come into your room and shed the simple layers of your t-shirt and jeans.

You press your lips together. You haven’t touched any wine tonight, and neither has he.

Once the credits have started rolling you sit up, noticing how stiff your body is having been in the same position for the entire length of the film. You stretch your arms out and catch Aemond looking at you, trying to hide a smile.

Aegon, Helaena and Daeron are arguing about the next film.

“Scream.”

“Aegon, please, no more horror.”

“But Matthew Lillard!”

“What?” You say, meeting Aemond’s eye.

He makes that cryptic humming sound again. “Feel like going to bed?” He says quietly.

Your stomach drops, but you want to play this cool. Don’t overthink it. Don’t overthink it. “Whose?”

Aemond half smiles. “Mine.”

You make your excuses. Aemond makes his. As soon as he shuts the door to the library the boys start howling like dogs.

Your heart is racing. Every part of you is screaming at you, begging for more contact, to have that beautiful eye on you again.

“Sorry about my family,” Aemond says, running his hand through his hair. You’re trying to pinpoint the notes of his aftershave, sweet and dark, like black coffee and honey. “As you can see they’re all very good at minding their own business–”

Your hands are on the sides of his jaw, against the gentle sharpness of his silver stubble, pulling his lips into yours.

Aemond immediately offers you his hunger. It takes you off-guard for a moment, how he grabs at your waist, pushing his body against yours so he can devour you how he wants to. His mouth moves down to your neck and you sigh without meaning to.

“Moaning for me already?” he teases, dragging his teeth over your skin.

“You fucking wish,” you say but your voice sounds utterly pathetic at the feeling of his hands on you, your hips, the backs of your thighs, cupping between your legs. “Aemond…”

“Sorry, I’m getting carried away,” he says, kissing up along your cheek and your temple. He pulls away from you, pupil blown wide in the darkened corridor, roaming your not quite flattering David Bowie t-shirt. He reaches for your hand and presses a peck against your knuckles.

You let him lead you towards the east wing, to the corridor where you’d usually part ways if you were going to your own bedrooms. Once you’ve gone past the door that would lead you back to the moat room, you start to feel lightheaded, disorientated. Somehow it feels nice.

Your heart beats more furiously with every door you pass. You don’t know which one will lead to his room, but there’s one at the very end, which he seems to be eyeing.

“Aemond?” You’ve stopped walking.

He grips your hand tighter. “Yes?”

“I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

“Oh. No, that’s fine.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t– don’t say sorry. Fuck, I should be the one apologising, I didn’t– I thought you wanted to?”

Seven hells, I’ve made it awkward. He hasn’t misread you, you’ve played into everything he’s given you, but something’s still holding you back. His grip on your hand is getting loose, his gaze is dropping. The moment is slipping and you can’t let it happen.

“Wait,” you say, reaching for him. Your fingers close around his forearm, slim but strong. “I don’t know, I’m not great at asking for what I want.”

His eye comes to yours, determined, more intense than you think you’ve seen before. “That’s alright. You can tell me, what do you want to do?”

You take a moment to consider, your eyes tracing the curve of his lips, the shape of his nose. You hold your breath so you can listen to his. You want this. You want this. You want him. “I want to kiss you more.”

He takes your hands in his, circling his thumb over the delicate skin of the inside of your wrists. “Yeah?”

“And, I want to be near you.”

He lifts your right hand and replaces his thumb with his lips. A surge of wanting shudders through your limbs. “And?”

You close your eyes and whisper. “And I want you to make me come.”

He smiles against your skin. “How do you want me to do that?”

“With your mouth,” you say. You feel his fingertips at the pulsepoint of your left wrist. You love watching his hands, you can picture them perfectly in your head. “And your fingers.”

“There’s a good girl,” he says.

Aemond steps away from you, opening the door and inviting you inside. You weren’t sure what you were expecting from his room but this seems about right, dark wood panelled walls like the rest of the rooms in the house. The curtains are wide open, overlooking the front of the house and you’re high up enough that you can see the sea, or you would in the daylight. He has bookshelves, mostly full of fantasy novels, children’s books. He explains most of these are from his summers spent here as a kid, plus a few text books, Comparative Politics, The History of Philosophy…

“The impressive collection of classics is at my place in King’s Landing.”

“I’m sure it is impressive,” you say. You wonder if you’ll ever get to see it.

He has a vanity, a hairbrush, a few bottles of aftershave, face serums and deodorant all placed neatly underneath a mirror. He has posters on the walls, all in black frames and hung in an orderly fashion, of sci-fi shows and movies and bands that were popular ten years ago. There’s another stack of shelves by the wardrobe with trophies, plaques, medals, photographs of Alicent with four silver-haired children, a certain little boy with a tennis racket in his hands, another with a fencing mask under his arm.

“I haven’t changed the room much,” he mutters.

“It’s adorable,” you say.

His arms circle around your middle, pulling you in close so he can kiss your neck again. “You’re moaning again,” he says when you let out a heavy breath.

“No I’m not, I’m just breathing.”

“Liar,” he teases. One of his hands slides along your body to your rear and he squeezes you through your jeans.

When you catch a glimpse of a silver chain under his collar you’re suddenly insatiable. Your hands are clawing at his t-shirt and he wastes no time in pulling it off, coming back to kiss you like he cannot bear to be parted from you, and kissing him feels as perfect as it did that night when you both tasted like wine.

You don’t care where your clothes fall, which pile of fabric is his, which is yours. He lays you down on the bed with a gentle but commanding grip on your neck. He kisses you over and over again, grinding a growing hardness between your legs against the fabric of your panties. He smothers you, his bare body sinking against yours, your lips grazing against his skin, your legs parting to make room for him, desperate for the friction.

He works his way down, trailing his tongue along your throat, kissing your bare chest, teasing your nipples with his lips, tongue and teeth. Maybe you are moaning. The thrill of it echoes through your body and serves to stir the wanting in your belly, the tightness that’s going to drive you insane.

He keeps kissing down, pausing when he comes to your panties. He looks up at you, lips parted, your fingers starting to slip into his hair. “Look at you,” he says. “You’re so hot when you’re needy.”

He’s barely touching you and you can’t take the teasing.

He doesn’t keep you like this forever. He kisses around it, the soft skin of your inner thighs before he finally, finally pulls your underwear down your legs. He starts slowly, gently, each swipe of his tongue tortuous and divine.

And usually your mind would wander. You’d try so hard to focus on the pleasure, think of some depraved scenario so you could actually come. Aemond commands your attention and you can’t bring yourself to look at anything other than the sight of his mouth working against your cunt, the obscene sounds he makes, the roughness of his voice when he stops to remark how wet you are, how good you’re doing for him.

Your grip of his hair tightens. You don’t worry if it will hurt him, not with the way he whines when you do, how his body jerks as he tries to grind his hips into the mattress.

It’s too much and it’s perfect. It builds and builds until it bursts and the pleasure tears through your body. Aemond holds your legs apart to see you through it, until you’re shaking and begging him to stop.

When he lifts his head he’s as breathless as you are, his brow dewy with sweat. “How was that?”

“Good,” you say, then decide that isn’t quite enough. “Really fucking good.”

Aemond smirks. His eye stays on your face as the tip of his middle finger rests at your entrance. As soon as he slips inside, your body is weightless. You could almost laugh to yourself, all those times you’ve looked at his hands and now you know you were right. He feels good, thicker, longer than your own digits, reaching deeper than you ever could.

He makes a game out of this, seeing how he can make you react, praising every movement of your hips, every noise you make, how many times he can get you to come.

When it’s done and you can’t take any more, he lies beside you, putting his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest. You let your hand settle on his stomach, on the patch of hairs that trails down to the waist of his boxers.

“You don’t have to…” he says, as you start to feel over his skin with your fingertips.

“Do you mind if I return the favour?” you ask, sitting up and leaning on your palm, looking down at him.

Aemond stares at your face. “Of course, as long as you want to.”

“I do,” you say, enjoying the way his expression lightens.

You position yourself along his body and rid him of the boxers. His cock is an impressive size, a little intimidating, but you’re already craving the feeling of him in your mouth, hard and needy, especially after he’s watched you come undone so many times.

You trail your tongue along his length, teasing over the tip and savouring the taste of him. You work him with your mouth and your hand where you can’t take him. You love the sounds he makes, his sighs and moans.

“Good girl,” he coos, “can that pretty mouth take more?”

You want to, you want him to feel good. You look up to him, trying to take more every time your mouth moves down.

Aemond watches you in wonder. He gathers your hair in one hand. “Tap my leg if it gets too much.”

You hum in agreement.

He pushes your head down. “Relax,” he utters, “fuck, just relax, you’re doing so good.”

You hardly understand how it makes you want more, the weight of him, the discomfort in your jaw, but you like it. You feel your stomach starting to tighten again.

Aemond pulls your head up and you catch your breath, quickly working your hand over his cock. He’s squirming now, pleading for release. You move your mouth to his balls and he doesn’t last long after that.

He pulls you by your hair again, prodding the tip at your lips. “Swallow it,” he growls as he slips into your mouth once more. You feel the warmth over your tongue and he comes, wincing slightly at the taste, letting it dribble from the corner of your mouth.

You must look like a fucking mess, his cum dripping from your mouth, your hair ruffled from his grip, trying to catch your breath as his cock softens.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he utters.

You fall asleep in his bed, your head against his chest and his arms around you. As you drift off you try not to think about the summer’s impending end, that the days are already getting shorter.

Don’t overthink it.

You think you could allow yourself to enjoy this, the light feeling in your body, the relief of being held by someone else, the sound of Aemond’s fluttering breath soothing you to a deep, dreamless sleep.

When Helaena suggested that you join her and the boys for tennis, you thought it meant you might actually get a chance to play. You and Aemond could have played a doubles match. He could have given you some pointers on your technique, and if you won he could have looked at you with that smug look of his. Or you could have gone head to head. He would have won, inevitably, but he’d be looking at you with a competitive intensity which could easily be switched into a different kind of eagerness.

You’ve not got a terrible view. Aemond’s face is dark with determination, every part of him drenched with sweat and his hands gripping the racket like it’ll purposefully try to jump out of his grasp. He grunts every time he hits the ball, and he does it with a terrifying amount of power.

“Match point!” Aegon’s made himself comfortable in a plastic chair at the side of the court, sipping bottles of beer from a cooler box he made Daeron carry over.

At first you were worried you might have to watch Aemond lose this. Daeron started off strong. He’s young, slim, quick, but he’s running out of stamina. This is where the match turned in Aemond’s favour. He hasn’t tired out so easily.

Daeron serves. Aemond sends the ball flying back. Daeron has to run for it but he just manages to hit it into Aemond’s court. And while Daeron’s far over on the left, Aemond hits it to the right. There’s no chance that Daeron will get it and he knows it, not even running for it. But Aemond’s hit it hard, if it’s out of the court then Daeron has another chance to win.

You all freeze. Aegon leans forward, eyes on the line and…

“In!”

“Fuck!” Daeron cries.

You and Helaena break into cheers. Aegon wipes his brow as if he’s the exhausted athlete and helps himself to another beer.

Aemond looks at you, trying not to smile. He offers his hand to Daeron but he’s having none of it.

He comes straight to you, lifting you into a spin like you’re in a rom-com.

“Why do I feel like you’ve just won Wimbledon?” you say as he sets you down.

“Please, this is more competitive than Wimbledon,” Helaena says, evidenced by the fact that Daeron has grabbed his racket and is already walking back towards the house.

“It’s a valuable lesson to learn how to lose gracefully,” Aemond insists.

On the walk through the gardens, Aemond keeps his arm around you, even when you protest that he’s literally wet with sweat. Not that you mind, you’re in a t-shirt and some sports shorts you’ve borrowed from Helaena. It’s all very sweet, very intimate all of a sudden, after you’ve spent the last few weeks acting like you dislike each other.

It’s early evening and the sun is inching closer to the horizon. The crashing of waves surrounds Dragonstone, no matter where you stand, the tennis court, the gardens, the front drive. Helaena and Aegon announce they’re going to have a few more drinks on the patio. And Aemond leads you upstairs to his room.

The moment the door is shut his lips are on yours, hands lightly touching your jaw. Is he afraid he’ll douse you with sweat, that his hands will feel too rough on your skin, that he’ll break you somehow?

There’s a nagging feeling in your heart and in the back of your head, the overwhelming urge to be close to him, to feel him. You stumble over yourselves and you drag him towards the bed by the collar of his tank top.

He’s on top of you, palms on either side of your head, his hair falling over your forehead, keeping you flat on the mattress with his body. “Don’t get me all worked up, darling, I need to shower–”

You interrupt him with quick, needy kisses. You can’t get enough of him, the softness of his mouth, his heat, the taste of him on your tongue.

He has to drag himself away, grinning, stroking his jaw with the backs of his fingers. “You’re tempting,” he muses.

“Not tempting enough,” you say with a playful pout.

“Give me two minutes.”

“I’ll be counting.”

He huffs a laugh. “That’s a good girl.”

Your brain short circuits. In that moment you’d wait for hours if he asked you to.

He strips off in front of you, his trainers, his top, the shorts and the pair of boxers. You sit on the edge of the bed, hypnotised as you watch his muscles and tendons flex under his skin, all his sharp edges, the contented look on his face.

He leans over you once more, kissing you lightly on your head before he disappears into his ensuite. You listen to the rush of water, the sound of his footsteps when you can catch them. You imagine him there, water running over his body, hands working some shower gel into a lather and rubbing it into his skin.

You take shallow, steady breaths, telling yourself you’re not trying to commit the smell of his sheets to memory. But you feel comfortable here, in his bed, in his room, in this small fraction of his world. There’s only so much you know of him, the books he likes, how quiet and commanding he can be, how his mouth feels and how his brow scrunches when you make him feel good. You’re sitting amongst fragments of him now, the sports trophies, the old photos, the text books, trying to piece it all together into the man you fell asleep with last night.

What’s his place like in King’s Landing? You bet it’s in some expensive neighbourhood, Visenya’s Hill or one of those squares by Regent’s Park. You picture marble surfaces, vintage furniture, rows and rows of books, dark wood floors, deep shades of blue and green, tall windows, maybe a bed for Vhagar.

There’s so much you want to know about him, so many questions you could ask.

The shower stops. You try to act as casually as you can and like you haven’t been restless on his bed waiting for him to come back to you.

When the door opens a cloud of steam wafts into the bedroom. Aemond has dried himself off mostly, ruffling the towel in his hair. You can taste the sweetness of the water on your tongue, and breathe in the scent of his shampoo. His eye is on you as he tosses the towel aside and approaches the bed.

He kisses you tenderly, slowly tugging away your t-shirt, then the shorts. Once you’re naked his demeanour shifts. His hands are firm on your thighs, spreading your legs apart, holding you down as he drags your panties to one side and devours you.

You can’t stop moving but it doesn’t matter, Aemond keeps you right where he wants you, circling and pressing with his tongue where you need him. Has he remembered from last night? Has he thought about this since?

When you come undone Aemond hums lowly in his chest, pleased, satisfied, to a point. He grinds his hardened length against your bare cunt, effortless with the aftermath of your orgasm. Each push of his head against your clit sends a shockwave through your spine. He’s teasing you, you can see it on his face.

You let out a quiet noise from your throat.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Aemond says sweetly.

You try to angle your hips and rock against him, but he knows what your game is and keeps his tortuous movements steady.

“That’s not good enough, tell me what you want.”

“I want you to fuck me,” you mutter, looking away from his face.

He’s having none of that. There’s a weight on your neck, his hand, forcing your gaze back to him. “Say that again.”

He’s slowed down, any hint of pleasure is fading quickly. You can’t let it happen, you need more. “I want you to fuck me,” you say again.

Aemond leans into you, forehead against yours, breath hot against your open mouth. “Beg me for it.”

“Please,” you whisper, lips grazing over his, “please fuck me, Aemond.”

The tip of his cock slips down to your entrance. He whispers in your ear, “is no condom okay?”

You nod. “I’m on the pill.”

Without any more preamble he slowly starts to rock his hips again, inching inside. You gasp at the stretch, clinging onto his shoulders as he works himself into you. You let your forehead rest against his chin, focusing on him, the little grunts he makes as he fills you.

“So fucking tight,” he whispers. Maybe he’s just as desperate and needy as you are.

His thrusts are shallow at first, but he presses in deeper. He keeps it slow, thorough, propping himself up on his hands, letting his pelvis grind into your clit. Your legs curl around his hips to keep him close, to keep yourself open for him.

He’s reaching so deep, then he ups his pace, fucking into you quick and hard, and you can do nothing but cling to him and take it.

You feel yourself clench around him, letting out a strangled sort of cry.

“That’s it,” Aemond rasps in your ear, “that feels good doesn’t it?”

You utter a mindless “yeah,”

“Are you going to come for me?”

“I…” you think so, something’s tightening inside you. You can’t speak or help the moans that slip from your mouth.

“I wanna feel you come around my cock,” Aemond says, “please, sweetheart, please,”

The pleasure snaps and your whole body lurches, back arching, your nails digging into Aemond’s skin. He fucks you through it, panting and sighing until he stills. With a few more gentle thrusts you feel a warmth blooming inside of you. He pulls out slowly, leaning back on his haunches to admire his work.

There’s a quiet moment, when you’re both catching your breath. Your eyes meet and you smile at him. He’s sweating again.

You go back to your room to shower and dress for dinner. Helaena knocks on your door before you head down together, a pleasant ache between your legs that feels like a shameful secret.

“Aemond seemed happy about the tennis,” she says.

“Mm hmm,” you offer.

“So did you…”

“Seven hells, he’s your brother,” you whisper, feeling blood flush in your cheeks.

“Well obviously I don’t want details about him, but as your friend I want you to be happy and have good sex.”

You wish you could shrink into your shoulders. “Yes, it was good.”

She squeals with laughter and tickles under your chin like you’re a child. “I’m so proud of both of you,” she says.

You and Helaena sit together around the table, this time you’re next to Aemond. Daeron is opposite you, Aegon to his right, opposite Helaena.

Alicent is keen to hear about the result of the tennis match.

“It was a tough call,” Aegon says like a sports commentator, “going in, expectations were high for Mr Targaryen, and equally Mr Targaryen is a promising young player, as we all know well–”

Otto chuckles from the other side of the table. The rest of the table starts to become engrossed in Aegon’s retelling of events, even Viserys.

“But ultimately the younger player was worn down, and it was in fact Mr Targaryen who prevailed!”

“But, who actually won?” Alicent asks, completely lost until she sees the scowl on Daeron’s face.

“Who knew Aemond still had it in him?” Aegon says, raising a piece of steak on a fork to him like a toast, “after all those office hours, I thought you were officially a boring bastard.”

“You know Aemond,” Daeron says, “he’s full of surprises.”

You frown with a flicker of confusion. Aemond’s glaring at his younger brother. Aegon raises his brow, taking a deep drink from his wine.

“A man of many talents,” Helaena adds lightheartedly.

“Take this development for example,” Daeron says, nodding to you.

“Daeron,” his mother warns.

Anger rushes through you like a fist around your heart. “What’s so interesting about it?” you ask.

Daeron shrugs. “It’s just that Aemond’s usually into older women–”

There’s a scraping sound as Aemond rises from his chair. He doesn’t shout, or glare, or slam his fist on the table. He simply leaves.

Daeron’s smirking. Everyone else is looking at you, Aegon, Alicent, your own parents.

“You’re a fucking arse,” Helaena hisses across.

You’ve had dreams before, when something’s chasing you and you can’t run, like your legs are made of ice and you can’t convince them to move, to keep out of the reach of danger. That’s exactly how you feel now, like you’re living in a nightmare, pulse pounding in your chest, no way to escape.

You don’t wait to consider what Daeron might have meant. You get up from your chair and follow Aemond from the dining hall.

No taglist, follow @ficsbygee and turn on post notifs for updates <3

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wonderjanga · 3 months ago

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Marilyn Gets Revived

In this AU, the time bubble was formed in 62, Billy got his powers in 59, and the twin’s parents died in 58. There was also the fact that her body was found, but C.C.’s never was. So, as for how this works, I don’t particularly know. Maybe, since Fawcett is weird, the magic of the city revived her? You decide.

The point is, Marilyn Batson crawls out of her grave, Jason Todd style, and wanders the streets in the funeral dress she was buried in.

Marvel: *patrolling when he sees a woman, dirtied with bloodied hands* (from both crawling out of the grave and breaking the coffin)

Marilyn: *walking down the street, trying to get to get to Ebenezer’s house to ask what the hell is going on*

Marvel: *flies down* “Miss? Are you alright?”

Marilyn: “Oh uhm… Yes, I’m fine.” *looks up to Marvel and literally freezes when she sees her husband*

Marvel: “Are you sure? I can take you to the hospital. Your hands are bleeding heavily.” *doesn’t recognize her*

Marilyn: “C.C.?”

Marvel: “Huh?” *confused as to if she either said his dad’s name, or if she said ‘see see’*

Marilyn: “C.C. it’s me. What’s going on? Why’re you dressed like that?” *happy to see her husband even though she doesn’t know he’s not her husband*

Marvel: *computing* “Mo-” *looks around before leaning in to whisper* “You’re Marilyn Batson??” *sounds completely baffled* “Are you real?”

Marilyn: “Wha- Clarence Charles Batson, of course I’m real!”

Being called by his dad’s name made Billy’s mind blank. He didn’t really know what to do except take her to the Watchtower’s medbay because he isn’t going to take his mom to just any hospital. His mom deserves the best. And so, the JL were graced with the image of the eight foot five Cap, with a seven foot ten woman who looks like she’s been through hell and back. And yes, Marilyn is 7’10 because if Captain Marvel is a copy of C.C. Batson, he would’ve been 8’5 so he needs an almost equally as tall wife.

Marilyn: *hands bandaged* “So… What happened to archeology?”

Marvel: *awkward* “Oh right, uh… I’m not da-” *slowly looks over to see Flash and GL spying from the doorway*

Marilyn: *also looks over to them*

GL: *clears throat and walks over* “Who’s this lovely lady, hmm?”

Marvel: “This is Marilyn. Marilyn, that’s Green Lantern. The guy over there still lurking and stalking is Flash.”

Marilyn: *bright ahh smile* “It’s lovely to meet you. When did you become friends with my husband?”

Flash: *zooms over* “Husband?” *jaw is on the floor*

Marvel: “Mari-”

GL: *summons a metal clamp to shut Billy’s mouth* “Sooooo how long have you two been married?”

Marilyn: “Since we were nineteen. So twenty years!”

Flash: “Twenty years…?” *looks between Marilyn and Marvel* “Dude. How do you just forget to tell us that?!”

Marvel: “Uh…” *just grabs Marilyn, and dips out, dragging her to the zeta tubes*

Marilyn: “C.C. what’s wrong?”

Marvel: “Nothing at all. We just need to talk. Not here.”

Marilyn: “Okay…?”

So, Billy drags them to one of the buildings Billy and Mary live in. When Marilyn saw Mary she immediately hugged her baby.

Marilyn: “You’re so big, yet so tiny! You haven’t been eating enough have you?!” *hugging the life out of Mary*

Mary: *getting suffocated while crying*

Marilyn: “Has your father not been feeding you enough?” *glares over at Marvel*

Mary: “What? No, dad’s… dead.”

Marilyn: *slowly looks confused* “Then who…?”

Marvel: “Shazam.”

Billy: “Surprise…?”

Yeah, Marilyn spoiled your two with lots and lots and lots of motherly affection after this. The twins were just happy to have their mommy back.

Bonus:

Billy: “Shazam!”

Marilyn: *standing nearby, gets hit by stray lightning* “Huh…?”

Marilyn Batson now has a Marvel form and she gets to fight with her babies.

#billy batson #dc captain marvel #shazam #captain marvel dc #fawcett city #fawcett comics #fawcett #mary batson #mary bromfield #marilyn batson

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mingi-s-dimples · 2 months ago

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Save the best for last - OT8 ATEEZ

KINKTOBER DAY 30, REQ. BY anon (last day!!!)

~"domot8 x freader where atz is mafia/ceo! reader is in a relationship with san but they are both okay in letting the other members join in the fun..;) however san likes to talk dirty in a way with hints of possessiveness to remind reader even though the other 7 fucks her, she’s still his hehe he also loves watching the members wreck the reader btw…. pls make it as filthy and kinky as possible! really go crazy with it! some ideas(if it helps-i hope it’s no burden): dirty talk, hair pulling, spit, multiple creampies, dp, squirting, exhibitionism, voyeur, choking, big dick!, bulge kink, mirror sex(?) and so on….. 😅" - I hope it's crazy enough for you anon.. for me it sure was 😂🤍

pairing: bf mafia ceo!san x gf fem!reader x ot7 (the other members) subordinates of San

genre: 18+, pure filth, gang bang

summary: San's men want to have your way with you and ask for permission and.. when San also sees you'd be eager to do it, he saves himself for last only to remind you who you had always belonged to.

wc: 8.4k (I am so sorry I went fucking overboard 🧍‍♀️)

warnings: okay prepare, mafia!au, gang bang, foursome, 5some, double penetration, multiple creampies, dirty talk/degradation (only from San), she sucks two at the same time, she takes two&two at the same time (hence the 5some), spitting, hair pulling, mirror sex, exhibitionism, dacryphilia. voyeurism, possesiveness at its finest, choking, big dick!san, bulge kink, squirting, lots of cummm, unprotected, for sure forgot something (it's 4:40 am at the time I post this), completely consensual, will definitely edit later.

Author's Note: Oh my fucking god holy fuck this was a damn ride. It was INTENSE. I went damn overboard with some of the details upsi, I had to. Gave everyone at least some attention 🤗 no one was left out (poor reader fr). This is my first ot8 fic. I hope you enjoy this, love u anon and I'm so sorry I am 2 months late 💀💀💀 life was erratic. Oh and.. Merry Christmas, everyone! Fluff fic coming right after this menace. From one extreme to another I guess 💀

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and doesn't represent the reality of the members in any way.

The soft hum of the city buzzed faintly outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of San’s office. Late evening sunlight poured into the room, bathing everything in golden hues as you perched on the edge of his sleek, black desk. Your legs swung idly, the sound of your heels lightly tapping against the wooden surface filling the otherwise quiet room.

San sat behind his desk, engrossed in the papers spread before him. His sharp black suit hugged his frame perfectly, exuding authority as he worked in focused silence. You let your gaze drift over him, taking in the way his jaw tightened every so often when he read something he didn’t like. Even when he was deep in work, San had a presence that could dominate a room without him uttering a single word.

But today, you weren’t in the mood to let him bury himself in paperwork.

“San,” you called, dragging out his name in a playful lilt.

His dark eyes flicked up to meet yours, a flicker of amusement flashing in them before he resumed scanning the document in his hands. “Yes, darling?” he asked, his voice low and velvety, though there was a clear undertone of distraction.

You leaned forward, resting your palms on the cool surface of his desk, your tone turning teasing. “You’ve been working all day. Don’t you think you deserve a break?”

San’s lips curved into a small smirk as he set the papers down and leaned back in his chair, his arms folding across his chest. “Is that so? And what exactly do you suggest I do on this ‘break,’ hmm?”

You feigned a thoughtful expression, tapping your chin dramatically. “Well… I could think of a few things.”

Before he could respond, the door to his office suddenly swung open, breaking the charged atmosphere between you. The sound made you jump slightly, and you instinctively straightened up, your gaze snapping to the intruders.

The other seven members of the group filed in one by one, their casual but confident demeanor filling the room with a new kind of energy.

“Interrupting something?” Jongho’s voice was the first to break the silence, his eyebrow raised as his eyes darted between you and San.

San’s expression didn’t falter, though the slight twitch of his jaw gave away his irritation. “Nothing you need to worry about,” he replied coolly, leaning back further in his chair.

Wooyoung, ever the bold one, grinned as he sauntered over to the desk, his sharp gaze flicking over you with clear amusement. “Doesn’t look like ‘nothing,’ though,” he teased, leaning casually against the edge of the desk beside you.

“Wooyoung,” San said, his tone holding a warning, though his posture remained relaxed.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at Wooyoung’s antics. “Do you ever know when to stop?” you asked, though your tone was more amused than annoyed.

“Not really,” Wooyoung admitted with a wink, his grin widening.

The rest of the members settled into the room, each finding a spot to sit or lean as the tension in the air shifted. You could feel their eyes on you, curiosity and mischief glinting in their gazes. It was impossible to ignore the magnetic energy they all carried; it was part of what made them so formidable as a group.

“Do we have business to discuss, or did you all just come to disrupt my evening?” San asked, his tone laced with dry humor as he gestured for them to get on with whatever they came for.

Hongjoong stepped forward, ever the leader, his expression calm but knowing. “We wrapped up the last deal earlier than expected, so we thought we’d drop by,” he said smoothly, though the subtle smirk tugging at his lips betrayed his intentions.

“And by ‘drop by,’ you mean make yourselves comfortable in my office?” San quipped, his gaze flicking between them.

Yeosang, who had been silent until now, let out a soft chuckle. “You can’t blame us, though. You’re the one who keeps all the interesting things hidden in here.”

His words carried a double meaning that wasn’t lost on anyone in the room. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks as you glanced at San, who still looked completely unbothered, though his hand had started to drum lightly against the desk.

Seonghwa, ever the smooth talker, decided to chime in. “You know, San,” he began, his tone light but calculated, “for someone who’s so protective, you seem awfully relaxed about leaving her alone with us.”

San’s smirk returned, his dark eyes locking onto Seonghwa’s. “Relaxed? Who said I was relaxed?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk.

“Then again,” Wooyoung piped up, his grin downright mischievous now, “maybe you’re not as possessive as we thought.”

The words hung in the air, the challenge in them clear. You glanced at San, curious to see how he would respond. To your surprise, he leaned back in his chair again, his expression calm but dangerous.

“Possessive?” he echoed, his tone laced with amusement. “Oh, I am. Make no mistake about that.”

His gaze shifted to you, his eyes softening slightly. “But I also trust her. And I trust all of you… to a degree.”

The unspoken invitation in his words made your breath catch. The room was silent for a moment, the weight of his statement sinking in before the playful tension returned.

“Well,” Hongjoong said, breaking the silence, “that’s quite the declaration.”

San’s smirk widened, his confidence unshakable. “It’s not a declaration. It’s a fact.”

The others exchanged glances, their expressions ranging from amusement to intrigue.

“Does that mean we can—” Wooyoung began, but San cut him off with a raised hand.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he said, though his tone was more teasing than serious. His eyes met yours again, and you could see the glint of amusement in them. “After all, it’s not entirely up to me, is it?”

The attention in the room shifted to you, and you suddenly felt the weight of their gazes. San’s question was clear—this was your choice as much as it was his.

Your mind raced, the charged atmosphere making it difficult to think clearly. But as you looked at San, his calm confidence grounding you, you realized that you trusted him completely.

“Well,” you began, your voice steady despite the nervous energy coursing through you, “I think… it could be interesting.”

Your words hung in the air for a moment before the room erupted in a mixture of laughter and teasing remarks. San’s smirk turned into a full grin as he reached out to take your hand, pulling you closer to him.

“Interesting, huh?” he said, his voice low and teasing.

You nodded, your heart racing as you met his gaze. “As long as you’re okay with it,” you added, your voice soft but sincere.

San’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he nodded. “I’m more than okay with it,” he said, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

The room buzzed with excitement as the others began to discuss the details, their playful banter filling the space. But your focus remained on San, his steady presence anchoring you as you stepped into uncharted territory together.

The tension in the room grew thicker as San gave the subtlest nod, his eyes never leaving yours. His hand cupped your cheek tenderly, grounding you amidst the teasing grins and playful energy that radiated from the others. The question in his gaze was quiet but clear: *Do you trust me?*

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice barely audible but laced with certainty.

San’s lips curled into a soft, almost mischievous smile. “Good,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Then let us take care of you.”

Yunho was the first to move, his large hands brushing over your shoulders as he leaned down to meet your gaze, his warmth both reassuring and electrifying. “You really are something special, you know that?” he said, his voice honeyed with praise. “We’ve been waiting for this moment for so long, but only if you’re ready.” His thumbs rubbed gentle circles into your skin, his touch comforting yet deliberate.

Mingi crouched next to you, his height even now making him an imposing figure. His grin was boyish, yet his tone carried a teasing edge. “San really is lucky, isn’t he? But I think tonight, you’re luckier.” His fingers brushed against your hand, holding it loosely as if offering silent reassurance. “We’re going to treat you like the queen you are.”

Their words made heat rise to your cheeks, and you felt San’s hand slide from your cheek to your waist, steadying you. His presence was a calming anchor even as the others moved around you with measured anticipation. “Remember,” San murmured into your ear, his tone a mix of possessiveness and care, “you can stop this anytime. But if you trust me, just let go.”

Your heartbeat quickened, but you nodded, the warmth in his voice giving you courage.

Hongjoong’s voice cut through the moment, calm and composed but carrying an edge of excitement. “We’ll take it slow,” he said, his sharp gaze locking with yours. “Just follow our lead.”

Together, they began to guide you, their movements deliberate yet unhurried. San was the one to lift your chin, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. He murmured, his voice steady, “Let them see the side of you only I’ve had the pleasure of knowing.”

Your shirt was the first to go, the fabric slipping from your shoulders under Mingi’s deft touch. He let out a low whistle, his eyes twinkling with admiration but never crossing into disrespect. “You’re stunning,” he said, his voice reverent. Yunho, standing behind you now, pressed a hand to your lower back, his touch firm yet gentle.

Yeosang’s quiet presence was next to catch your attention. He knelt beside you, his fingers brushing over your wrist as if asking permission before helping with the next piece of clothing.

The air buzzed with anticipation, but no one rushed you. Each movement, each touch, was careful and deliberate, designed to put you at ease. San stayed close, his hand a constant presence on your waist or shoulder, his protective nature evident even now. “You’re doing so well,” he praised, his voice rich with affection.

Mingi’s teasing came back as he tilted his head, his eyes raking over you with playful admiration. “You’ve been hiding all this from us?” he joked, though his tone carried genuine awe. “Not fair.”

“She’s breathtaking,” Yunho agreed, his voice warm as his hand brushed against your arm. “San’s been keeping the best things to himself.”

San smirked, his possessiveness flickering through despite the shared moment. “Don’t forget,” he said, his tone low and dangerous, though his eyes softened as they met yours. “She’s still mine.”

Wooyoung laughed, breaking the tension with his lighthearted energy. “We know, we know,” he said, throwing his hands up dramatically. “We’re just borrowing her for tonight.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at his antics, the sound breaking through your initial nervousness.

As they continued to undress you piece by piece, the warmth of their attention made your skin tingle. Every movement was accompanied by a murmur of praise, a gentle touch, or a soft reassurance. They were in no rush, savoring every moment and ensuring you felt cherished and adored.

San knelt beside you as the last piece of fabric was removed, his hand cupping your face as he pressed his forehead to yours. “You’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice filled with so much love it made your heart ache. “And you’re safe.”

The others watched the intimate moment, their respect for San’s bond with you evident in their quiet stillness. When he finally pulled back, his smirk returned, his possessive streak shining through. “But don’t forget who you belong to,” he added, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip once more.

As you settled back against the desk, the warmth of their gazes enveloped you, and you couldn’t help but feel a rush of heat flow through you.

San’s voice was the last thing you heard before they began. “Let us show you just how much you mean to us.”

The living room was bathed in warm golden light, the soft hum of conversation filling the air. As the group carried you from the office to the shared space, their laughter and teasing remarks created a sense of playful camaraderie. The room, spacious yet intimate, had an air of familiarity that contrasted with the charged tension lingering among them.

They gently set you down on the large sectional couch, its plush cushions yielding to your weight. Wooyoung leaned over from one side, his mischievous grin ever-present as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. "Look at her," he mused, his voice a touch lower than usual, "so perfect and so pretty like this."

Mingi, who stood behind you, chuckled softly. "She’s even more stunning up close," he said, his large hands resting lightly on the back of the couch. His eyes glimmered with mischief, though there was a noticeable gentleness to his movements. From the corner of your eye, you could see Hongjoong to your right, already rolling up his sleeves, his sharp gaze focused entirely on you.

San remained standing near the edge of the room, his arms crossed but his expression unreadable. The corners of his lips twitched upward slightly as the three members began to close in. "Remember who’s in charge," he said smoothly, his deep voice cutting through the quiet murmurs. "You can admire her, but don’t forget that she’s mine."

Wooyoung smirked, exchanging a glance with Mingi and Hongjoong. "Of course, hyung. But you wouldn’t mind if we… made her feel special, right?" he teased, his voice playful yet testing boundaries.

San’s dark eyes flicked toward you, searching your expression. "Do you trust me?" he asked softly, his tone steady and grounding amidst the lighthearted chaos. His gaze held yours firmly, waiting for your answer.

You nodded without hesitation, your voice barely a whisper. "I trust you, San."

A satisfied hum left his lips. "Good." He gestured with a slight nod, granting the others permission to proceed. "Don’t forget—she’s precious. Treat her that way."

Wooyoung, ever the bold one, began by brushing his lips lightly along your temple, his fingers trailing down your arm in feather-light strokes. "Precious is an understatement," he murmured, his voice sending a shiver through you.

Mingi leaned in from behind, his hands settling on your shoulders. His touch was firm but reassuring, a contrast to Wooyoung’s teasing.

Hongjoong’s approach was quieter but no less impactful. He crouched beside you, his sharp eyes scanning your face for any signs of discomfort. His hand found yours, his fingers curling around yours in a silent gesture of reassurance.

As the three surrounded you, their touches and presence seemed to envelop you entirely. Wooyoung tilted your chin upward, his lips ghosting along your jawline before trailing to your collarbone. Mingi’s hands, broad and warm, began to massage your shoulders, easing any lingering tension. Meanwhile, Hongjoong traced idle patterns on the back of your hand, his quiet attention grounding you amidst the overwhelming sensations.

The other four—Seonghwa, Yunho, Yeosang, and Jongho—watched from the nearby armchairs, their expressions varying from amusement to curiosity. Yunho leaned back casually, his long legs stretched out as he exchanged knowing smirks with Seonghwa. "They’re starting strong," Yunho remarked, his deep voice laced with humor.

"Can you blame them?" Seonghwa replied, his tone lighter than usual. His sharp features softened as his gaze flitted toward you, a hint of fondness in his otherwise composed demeanor. "She has that effect."

Yeosang tilted his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "San’s holding back more than I expected," he mused, his words eliciting a chuckle from Jongho, who simply nodded in agreement.

San, still standing apart from the group, exuded a quiet authority. Despite the teasing commentary from the others, his eyes never left you. "Remember your place," he reminded the group lightly, though there was no malice in his tone. "She’s mine to love and protect."

"And tease," Wooyoung quipped, pulling back briefly to glance at San. "You said it yourself, hyung. She’s precious. We’re just appreciating her beauty."

San raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond immediately, his gaze drifting back to you. "Just don’t forget who she belongs to," he said finally, his voice calm but firm.

As if to emphasize his words, Wooyoung leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Even with all of us here, you’re still his, aren’t you?" he murmured, his voice dripping with playful reverence.

The room was growing warmer, the air thick with an electric charge that seemed to pulse between everyone present. The soft rustling of fabric caught your attention, and your eyes flicked over to the four members who had been watching from the sidelines. Slowly, one by one, they began to shed their shirts, their toned torsos coming into view. Each movement was deliberate, as though they wanted to savor every second of this shared moment.

Yunho, the tallest of the group, was the first to approach, his steps unhurried and confident. His broad shoulders and defined chest were illuminated by the soft light of the living room. His gaze flicked down to you, his lips curling into a small, knowing smile. "I think it’s our turn now," he said, his deep voice sending a shiver through you.

Seonghwa followed closely behind, his elegant movements almost hypnotic. His sharp features softened slightly as he looked down at you, a gentle fondness in his expression. "Don’t worry," he murmured, his voice smooth and calming. "We’ll take good care of you."

Behind them, Yeosang and Jongho exchanged a glance, a silent agreement passing between them. Yeosang, with his quiet intensity, began to unbuckle his belt, his fingers moving with a casual ease. Jongho, ever the composed one, ran a hand through his dark hair before stepping closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

The three members who had been close to you—Wooyoung, Mingi, and Hongjoong—reluctantly backed off, their hands lingering on your skin for a moment longer before they stepped away. They moved to the side, their breathing still heavy as they watched the scene unfold. Each of them began to undress, their movements slower than necessary as if they wanted you to notice every detail.

Wooyoung leaned casually against the armrest of the couch, his bare torso gleaming under the soft light. "We’ll let them have their fun," he said, his voice teasing. "But don’t forget—we’re next."

Mingi crossed his arms over his chest, his sharp jawline set as he watched intently. "Take your time," he added, though the hunger in his gaze betrayed his impatience.

San remained standing apart from the group, his suit still perfectly in place. The contrast between his composed exterior and the evident strain in his pants was almost too much to bear. His dark eyes drank in every detail of the scene, from the way you sat on the couch, your hands trembling slightly, to the way the members circled you like predators waiting for their moment to strike.

You glanced up at San. His lips curved into a small, approving smile. "Enjoy yourself," he said softly, his voice steady despite the clear tension in his posture. "But remember who you belong to."

The four of them seemed to come to a silent agreement, their eyes flicking between each other as they decided how to proceed. Finally, Yunho spoke up, his deep voice cutting through the quiet tension. "Let’s start simple," he suggested, his gaze dropping to your hands.

"Two and two," Jongho added, his voice steady. His dark eyes softened slightly as he looked at you. "If that’s okay with you."

You nodded, your heart racing as they took their places. Yunho and Yeosang each took each of your hands, their fingers brushing against yours as they guided your movements. Their touches were firm but gentle, their eyes never leaving yours as they made sure you were comfortable. They took off their pants completely, followed by their briefs. Their cocks sprung out and your hands instinctively went for their lengths. You looked up at them, then down at the position you were in. Legs slightly spread out, your cunt dripping with arousal on the blanket that was on the couch, the two men in front of you and their cocks in your hands. You took a deep breath and started to move your hands, stroking their lengths slowly, at first. Yunho's cock was already dripping with pre cum, making the perfect lube for his hand. For Yeosang, you spit in your hand and started lubing it up. He quietly groaned at the sensation, satisfied with your way of lubing him.

“Yes… that's it, sweetheart..” Yunho whispered, his head slowly falling back as your hand started to move more rapidly, your thumb rubbing over the tip, putting pressure on it.

Yeosang was already out of it, his breath heavy as he was hardly holding back from pushing your hand further on his cock. He waited and waited until he couldn't anymore.

“Fuck it..” his hand hand hovered over your head, hesitating for a moment. He looked at you and tried to back up, but Yunho interrupted his move.

“That's such.. a great idea, Yeosang..” he said, his eyes gazing over you. “But only if y/n and San are good with it, of course…” he said and all 3 of you looked at San. He suddenly had his pants unbuckled, his hard cock straining against his briefs. He nodded, his hand now lazily rubbing it through the cloth. He was turned the fuck on with this situation, the fact that he was observing you so patiently, waiting for his men to have their fun with you and use you as they pleased, as their fuck toy.

“Boss is okay with it.. but are you, y/n?” Yeosang said, his hand hovering softly over your cheek, making you look up at him.

“Y-yes..” you whispered and he didn't hesitate any further, his hand guiding your mouth to his cock. You instinctively started sucking on the dripping tip, kissing and licking circles all around, from the tip to the base of his cock then all along his shaft. As you sucked him off up and down slurping and putting pressure with your tongue and lips on the tip, his hand slowly started pushing your head on his cock. He let you get used to his size, your lips stretching slightly as he pushed further.

“Ah fuck, Yunho.. her mouth feels so good.. you gotta-you gotta try this” Yeosang said breathless, catching the other men's attention. Yunho smirked and waited for his turn.

Aa you bobbed your head up and down on Yeosang’s cock and stroked your hand on Yunho's on your left, you started to focus on making Yeosang cum first so you could suck Yunho off, too. Within a few more licks of your tongue and hard sucking on the tip he came down your throat, making you slightly choke on his huge load. Yunho chuckled, satisfied at the view of you choking and couldn't content his excitement at being sucked off by you, that he slowly moved Yeosang from your face - who was panting still - and harshly tilted your chin up so that you could take his cock in your mouth.

“Can I join in, too?” Jongho said, his cock already heavy and dripping in his hand.

You nodded briefly while sucking on Yunho's cock and he joined in… but he didn't joke when he said he'd *join in*. He made his way right in front of you and switched places with Yunho for a moment until he was satisfied, then after you sucked him off for a moment he exchanged glances with Yunho and they came to a silent agreement. Yunho, *slowly* made the tip of his cock fit at the same time with Jongho's and you started to suck both simultaneously.

Yunho’s hand tangled in your hair, barely resisting from mouth fucking you. He softly pulled you towards his pelvis, both cocks filling up your mouth good. Jongho whined at the sensation, his head lolling back in pleasure.

“Yeah.. that’s it, darling..” Jongho said, his ragged breath giving away the fact that he was damn close. Yunho was too, his hand pulling your hair softly backwards only to thrust powerfully in your mouth. Each of them fucked your mouth prettily until they came down your throat, filling your mouth with their cum. Tears pricked in the corner of your eyes, the feeling of being stretched by their cocks only amplifying the pleasure and arousal growing in your belly.. and between your legs.

You had just finished with Jongho and Yunho, your hands still trembling slightly as they stepped back, their satisfied expressions lingering as they caught their breath. The room was filled with a heavy scent. As they backed away, the other four men—Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Mingi, and Wooyoung—moved forward, their eyes locked on you, filled with a mix of hunger and anticipation. The air grew heavier, the tension palpable as they closed in on you, ready to claim their turn.

But before they could make their move, a voice that brooked no argument cut through the silence.

San stepped in front of you, his presence commanding, and with one smooth motion, he cupped your face in his hands, his touch tender yet possessive. His gaze softened as he looked down at you, but his words were sharp, like a warning.

"The next man to make a move without her permission will regret it," San's voice was calm but held an undeniable authority. He leaned in slightly, his eyes never leaving yours as he asked, "Tell me, who do you want?"

You felt your heart race, the pressure mounting as the room fell deathly quiet. The other men—Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Mingi, and Wooyoung—shifted uncomfortably behind San, their whispers of complaint barely audible. "This is taking too long," Hongjoong muttered softly. He's gonna make us wait?" Seonghwa sighed in frustration, his voice barely above a whisper. "This isn't fair." Even Mingi and Wooyoung exchanged glances, their impatience palpable, but they dared not protest further. They knew better than to challenge San’s authority.

A bead of sweat trickled down your temple as you stared at San, unsure of what to say. The choice was overwhelming, and the silence seemed to stretch on forever. You opened your mouth, but the words caught in your throat. "I... I..." Your voice wavered, and your hands shook as you glanced at each man in turn.

Finally, with a stutter, you managed to say, "M-Mingi."

San’s lips curled into a small, approving smile. "Good choice," he murmured, backing away just enough to allow Mingi to step forward. His praise made your chest tighten in both relief and anticipation.

Then San turned to the others, his gaze cold and decisive. "Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Wooyoung," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Back off. Stay with Yunho, Jongho, and Yeosang until she's done. She'll decide what to do next."

Reluctantly, the remaining three men complied, their disappointment clear, but they knew better than to defy San’s orders.

The room quieted once more as Mingi stepped closer, and the weight of your decision settled in. He positioned himself to your mouth and let you take the lead for a moment.

Mingi stepped forward, his eyes dark with desire as he knelt before you, his towering frame somehow softening with a nervous yet eager energy. His hand trembled slightly as he guided his cock to your mouth, the warmth of your breath against him drawing a shuddering moan from his lips. He wasn’t shy about making sounds; each gasp and whimper escaping him felt raw, his pleasure uninhibited. “God… you’re so good,” he murmured breathlessly, his voice catching as you dragged your tongue along his length in a slow, deliberate motion. The way you swirled your tongue and teased him at the tip had him bucking his hips slightly, his hands gripping your shoulders for balance as his knees threatened to give out. Every lick, every motion from your mouth sent Mingi spiraling closer to the edge, his moans turning into desperate whines that filled the room. Every sound that escaped his throat gave you energy to suck him more, deeper, faster, sloppier, even if his huge, girthy cock was making you choke on it with every deeper thrust. “Y-you’re… gonna make me—” he stammered, and before he could finish his sentence, his climax overtook him. His body tensed as he came, the sound of his loud, unrestrained moan echoing through the room.

Panting heavily, Mingi stepped back, his legs shaky as he tried to steady himself. You wiped your lips, your own breath coming in short, heavy pants as the intensity of the moment settled between you. For a brief moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of the shared experience thick in the air.

Mingi finally broke the silence, offering you a sheepish smile. “That was… incredible,” he admitted, his voice still husky. “But what do we do now?”

Before you could answer, San’s familiar voice cut in, smooth and commanding as ever. “I’ve got an idea,” he said, stepping forward with his trademark confidence. His gaze flicked between you and Mingi before landing on you, a small smirk playing at his lips.

“How about this,” San began, his tone low and almost teasing. “You take Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Wooyoung, and Yeosang next. All at once. Then, when they’re done…” He glanced over at Yunho, Mingi, and Jongho, his smirk widening. “You’ll handle them. Together.”

His words sent a ripple through the room, the other men exchanging glances, their expressions a mixture of excitement and anticipation. San’s smirk deepened as his gaze returned to you, his voice dropping even lower.

“And when that’s over,” he said, stepping closer, his eyes locking onto yours, “it’ll finally be my turn.”

San’s tone held a sense of finality, his dominance undeniable as he stood tall before you. “The best things,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face, “are always saved for last.”

The tension in the room was palpable, every man’s gaze now fixed on you, waiting to see how you’d respond. San’s command lingered in the air, his natural authority unmistakable as you tried to steady your racing heart and prepare for what lay ahead.

Your lips trembled, the weight of anticipation heavy as you stood surrounded by three of them—Seonghwa, Yeosang, and Hongjoong—each waiting, their eyes fixed on you. Finally, you stammered, “Y-yes,” the word escaping in a breathy whisper.

San’s gaze softened, pride shining in his dark eyes as he stepped closer to you. Gently, he cupped your face, his thumb tracing slow circles against your cheek. “That’s my good girl…” he murmured, “or should I say… good slut?” his voice low and rich.. His lips quirked into a smirk as his gaze flicked briefly to the men nearby. The sudden word he said made your eyes widen, surprised he hasn’t used those type of words yet.. as he always uses them when there is just the two of you.

“If you want the chance to be with me tonight,” he continued, his voice smooth and commanding, “you’ll be a good girl for them first. Take care of them. Do you understand?”

You nodded, your breath catching under the weight of his intense stare. “Good,” he said, stepping back and motioning toward Seonghwa, Yeosang, and Hongjoong. “Go on, show them what my good, little slut is capable of.”

San moved aside and as soon as Seonghwa approached you first, his movements slow and confident, San stopped and turned around. “Ah… I almost forgot. Listen carefully," he growled, his voice low and laced with a deadly calm that sent a chill through the air. "She’s mine. The only one who has the right to speak to her like that is me—and even then, it’s only because she allows it. If I catch so much as a whisper of disrespect from any of you, there won’t be warnings, there won’t be second chances. I will make you disappear, and you all know pretty damn well how I take care of people that cross my words.”

“Got it, boss!” all of them said in unison, clearly spooked by his words, but with a good reason.

Seonghwa stepped in front of you. His strong arms slid around you, pulling you firmly against him with your back pressing to his chest. “You’re stunning,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. Yeosang stepped in next, his hand grazing along your thigh before resting on your hip. His fingers trailed up, featherlight, before settling in place. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your temple.

Hongjoong followed, stepping to your side with a teasing smirk. His fingers traced the line of your jaw, tilting your head gently toward him. “You’re safe with us,” he murmured, his voice low and steady before capturing your lips in a kiss that was as consuming as it was gentle.

Their touches surrounded you, each of them focused on you as the last layers of fabric were shed from their bodies, leaving only warmth and closeness between you. The atmosphere was charged, the air electric as anticipation built around you.

Seonghwa adjusted his hold, his arms sliding beneath your knees to lift your legs effortlessly, pressing them against your chest in a mating press. His chest was firm against your back, his grip steady and sure as he leaned down to plant a soft kiss on the side of your neck. The new closeness made your breath hitch, heat flooding your senses as you leaned back into him.

Yeosang and Hongjoong steadied you on either side, their hands gliding along your thighs and hips, their touches reverent yet deliberate. Yeosang’s lips brushed against your collarbone, his breath hot against your skin, while Hongjoong whispered your name softly, his voice sending sparks through you.

As Seonghwa positioned himself right under you and began to move, his breath caught, a low groan escaping him as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His cock thrusted deep in your ass, his movements deliberate and controlled, each shift of his body sending a wave of warmth coursing through you. Hongjoong soon joined, his body aligning with yours as he ligned his cock to your folds, rubbing it up and down for a couple of times before sliding right in, his quiet gasps mixing with Seonghwa’s.

Yeosang’s steadying hands roamed your sides, offering a grounding presence amid the growing intensity. His kisses traced a path along your shoulder, and his voice was a soothing counterpoint to the fervent rhythm the others set.

The synchronized motion between Seonghwa and Hongjoong was overwhelming, each of their movements filled with purpose, their breaths shallow and mingling with your own. Seonghwa’s grip on you never faltered, his strength keeping you secure as he murmured against your ear, “You’re perfect..”

Their closeness was intoxicating, and the connection shared between the four of you was more than physical—it was a deeply intimate expression of trust, affection, and unspoken understanding. Each kiss, each whisper of praise, and every deliberate movement spoke volumes, leaving you surrounded by warmth and devotion.

Yeosang shifted with purpose, his hands smoothing over your sides with deliberate care before he moved to position himself beneath you. His movements were careful yet assertive, his hands guiding your hips as he thrusted himself in your cunt, his body perfectly aligned to support you. His chest rising briefly as he murmured, “Let me take care of you, too,” his voice low but filled with steady confidence. The feeling of being filled by both Yeosang’s and Hongjoong’s cocks was damn overwhelming and pleasurable, tears falling down your cheeks as you were held up by the 3 boys. But.. one was missing.

The room pulsed with heat, your body trembling from the overwhelming sensations of Yeosang’s deliberate rhythm beneath you and Hongjoong’s teasing precision. Every sound, every touch, had you teetering on the edge, your breaths hitching as you tried to keep up with the intensity.

“Forgot about me for a second, huh?” Wooyoung’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and playful, though the hunger in his eyes betrayed just how impatient he had been. He stood near you and the boys, watching you.

Your eyes flicked to him, and the moment they met his, he was already moving. Whatever remained of his clothes was gone in an instant, hitting the floor without hesitation. “You look so good like this,” he murmured, his voice low and rough as, his hands ghosting over your trembling thighs.

Yeosang let out a low chuckle, his grip on your waist tightening as he adjusted his angle. “You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?”

“You have no idea,” Wooyoung replied, his hands sliding up to your hips, brushing against Yeosang’s as he steadied you. He leaned in, his lips brushing against the curve of your neck.

Hongjoong smirked, his fingers caressing your thigh as he watched Wooyoung with quiet amusement. “Don’t overwhelm her right away. She still needs to be in shape for whatever boss wants to do with her later.”

But Wooyoung was unrelenting, his lips trailing down your neck to your shoulder, his kisses growing more insistent. He looked at Seonghwa as he guided his cock into you. The stretch was overwhelming, the new sensation pulling a sharp gasp from your lips as your body adjusted to the addition… in your ass, right where Seonghwa had been fucking you for a while. Wooyoung let out a low groan, his forehead pressing briefly against your shoulder as he steadied himself. “You feel… unreal,” he whispered, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

Seonghwa, who had been quietly observing, started to thrust in sync with Wooyoung, filling you up. “Relax,” he murmured, his voice soft and commanding as his lips brushed your ear.

Wooyoung’s movements were slow at first, his hands steadying you as he found his rhythm.

The room was thick with heat, your body trembling as Yeosang and Hongjoong moved in sync, their rhythm pushing you closer to the edge. Their hands gripped you firmly, Yeosang’s nails digging into your waist while Hongjoong’s fingers tightened on your thighs. The pressure inside you was almost unbearable, but it only heightened the pleasure coursing through your body.

“Just like that,” Hongjoong groaned, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep, his release spilling into you in hot waves. A cry ripped from your lips as Yeosang followed, his grip steadying you as he filled you to the brim, the sensation overwhelming.

Behind you, Wooyoung let out a low growl, his chest pressed against your back as Seonghwa whispered praises into your ear. Their movements were relentless, each thrust drawing out another moan from your trembling body.

“You’re perfect,” Seonghwa murmured, his voice strained as he sank deep inside you, his warmth joining Wooyoung’s as their releases filled you in unison. The sensation of both of them spilling into you left you breathless, your body tightening as your climax crashed over you in a wave of blinding pleasure.

A broken sob escaped your lips as you felt everything—every stretch, every pulse of warmth as they stayed inside you, their hands soothing you as you shuddered in their arms.

“S-so full,” you whimpered, your voice shaky as tears slipped down your cheeks, your body utterly spent yet tingling from the overwhelming sensation of being completely filled.

Their warmth surrounded you, grounding you as you came down from the high, your body still trembling but utterly sated.

The weight of San’s gaze lingered on you, dark and full of unspoken hunger. He stepped closer, his lips curling into a teasing smirk. “So needy,” he murmured, his voice low and full of heat. His fingers tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his piercing stare. “One more round, sweetie. That’s it. Then you’re all mine.” His thumb brushed over your trembling lips as his tone dropped further. ��But don’t think I’ll go easy on you after watching this, you little slut.”

Before you could respond, San stepped back, and Mingi’s hands slid to your waist. He pulled you closer, his large palms steady and grounding as his lips found your neck. The soft press of his mouth left a warm trail, and the quiet groan he let out sent a shiver through you.

Behind you, Jongho’s touch was firmer, his hands gripping your hips as his breath fanned against your shoulder. He didn’t speak, but the heat of his presence and the deliberate press of his lips to your skin left you breathless.

“Just like that,” Yunho murmured, his deep voice a soothing contrast to the desperate need in his eyes. His fingers grazed along your jawline, tilting your face toward him.

You gasped softly, overwhelmed by the intensity of their touches and the way they surrounded you. San’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and commanding yet dripping with a dark fondness. “Good girl,” he said, his tone rough as he leaned in to press a fleeting kiss to your temple. “Now let them have their moment, because after this…” His words trailed off, his smirk growing wider. “You’re mine.”

As the 3 boys started fucking you relentlessly, breaths mingling together and whines escaping your chest, they stopped suddenly. You didn't realise why until your sweet boyfriend stood right in front of you. San’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and commanding. “Stop.” The single word carried enough weight to make Mingi and Jongho halt mid-thrust, their movements freezing as their eyes turned to him. Yunho’s grip on your waist loosened slightly, though he stayed close, his breath still hot against your neck.

“You don’t get to finish yet,” San growled, stepping closer, his intense gaze boring into yours. His tone softened just slightly, but it was no less firm as he tilted your chin upward to meet his piercing eyes. “Not before them, and certainly not before me.”

You gasped softly, your breath hitching as his fingers traced your jawline, his possessive smirk returning. “You think I’m letting you come so easily?” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping into a husky murmur. “No, darling. You’re gonna wait until I’m the one who pushes you over. I want you crying out my name, trembling and completely undone because of me. I want you so damn overstimulated you can’t even think of anyone else.”

San turned his sharp gaze to the others, his tone cool and deliberate. “You heard me. Keep her waiting.”

Mingi’s hands tightened on your hips, his grip grounding as his pace resumed, slow but deliberate. The low groans rumbling from his chest mingled with Yunho’s deep, steady breaths behind you. Jongho pressed closer, his lips brushing along your shoulder, his quiet growls sending shivers down your spine.

Their rhythm built together, their bodies perfectly in sync as your moans and cries filled the room. Mingi leaned down, his breath hot against your ear.

Yunho’s hands slid up your sides, steady and warm as his lips found the nape of your neck. The way his whines wrapped around you, combined with the desperate, broken groans from Jongho, sent waves of heat coursing through you.

Your cries grew louder as their movements became more erratic, each of them chasing their orgams with a fevered intensity. Mingi’s deep groan echoed through the room as he held you tighter, his body trembling against yours as he finally came. Jongho followed moments later, his grip on your hips firm as his own breathing hitched. Yunho’s orgasm was quieter but no less intense, his face buried in your neck as his chest heaved against your back.

You trembled in their arms, overwhelmed and breathless, when a familiar voice pierced through the haze.

San stepped forward, his movements purposeful, his shirt now entirely gone. “That’s enough,” he said, his voice low and commanding, drawing all attention to him. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, thoroughly undone and trembling from the intensity. “I told you she wasn’t finished yet.”

He scooped you into his arms effortlessly, his strength both steadying and overwhelming.

He stopped in front of the tall, ornate mirror that stood near the dining table, his reflection capturing his sharp gaze as he set you down gently on the edge of the table. “Look at yourself,” he commanded, his tone rough but laced with a dark sort of tenderness.

You blinked up at him, dazed, your reflection showing your flushed cheeks and trembling frame. San smirked, his hand tilting your chin so you wouldn’t look away. “You see that? That’s what I do to you,” he murmured, his voice dripping with possessive pride.

Before you could respond, he gently pushed you forward, your palms meeting the cool surface of the table as he pressed your body into it. His hand slid down your back, firm but reverent, as his other hand came to rest on your shoulder. “Keep watching,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. “I want you to see exactly how I make you mine.”

The intensity of his words, the way he held you so effortlessly yet with complete control, sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you. San’s reflection in the mirror was just as commanding as his presence behind you, his gaze locked onto yours as he slowly began to thrust into your dripping cunt.

Mingi, still catching his breath from nearby, let out a low chuckle. “San, you really don’t hold back, do you?”

San glanced over his shoulder briefly, his smirk growing darker. “Of course not. She doesn’t deserve anything less.” His attention returned to you, his voice dropping as he added, “And she wouldn’t want it any other way, would you, sweetheart?”

The only response you could manage was a breathless whimper, your reflection showing every ounce of the anticipation coursing through your body as San’s grip tightened, grounding you once more in his complete control.

San’s gaze darkened as his hand choked your face and neck down on the table, his strength grounding you even as your legs trembled under the weight of his presence. “Watch me,” he commanded, his voice low and rough, a blend of control and desire. His eyes flicked toward the others as he smirked. “Watch how my little slut lets me take everything from her, how much she trusts me to push her to her limits.”

His fingers trailed deliberately down your back, firm but reverent, sending a shiver coursing through you. The cool surface of the table pressed against your skin, contrasting with the heat radiating from his body as he leaned over you. “You’re mine,” he whispered into your ear, his tone soft yet charged with unrelenting intensity. “And you’ll show them exactly how good you are for me.”

The table creaked under the pressure as San started pounding into you, a silent promise of what was to come. His hand slid to your shoulder, steadying you, his thumb brushing soothing circles into your skin as his other hand started to slowly tangle in your messed up hair.

Your breath caught as he bent down, his lips brushing just below your ear. “Don’t you dare look away,” he murmured, his voice sending a rush of anticipation through you. “I want you to see everything. Every moment. Every second of what I do to you.”

Your reflection in the mirror revealed the truth—the flushed heat of your cheeks, the dazed look in your eyes as you nodded, overwhelmed by his intensity. San’s smirk deepened, his possessiveness evident in every movement as he fucked you, ensuring you felt every ounce of his unwavering focus.

The tension in the room was palpable, each sound amplified as the others watched, their breaths mingling with yours. San’s hold on you remained steady, his thrusts getting sloppier, deeper, more purposeful.

“S-San..!” you cried out, tears pricking at your eyes as he hit your cervix, the roughness of it all sending you over the edge. His hand hovered underneath you, feeling up your belly. As he bottomed down as deep as he was able, stretching you the fuck out, he could feel his cock softly bulging in your lower belly. He let out a satisfied sigh, smiling in the mirror as he saw your eyes teary.

“Yes.. that's it, slut. Scream my damn name.” San said as his pace grew faster and deeper, table creaking under his force. “I thought you'd be all loosened up from the boys fucking you at the same time but damn… their cocks ain't competing with mine. Is that right, darling?” he smirked, looking in your eyes in the mirror as he heard the boys complain in the background.

“Y'all better shut your mouths if you don't want me to give you a reason to complain.” he said between thrusts and they nodded, defeat visible in their eyes.

“Tell me, slut. You're close, is that right?” The way your breath hitches… and the way you desperately arch your back against the hardwood.. “

“San..S-San.. please. P-please.. -ah!” you moaned out as he jerked your head upwards by your hair. His thrusts grew erratic, your head dizzy from his power. He pounded in you a few times before filling you up with his huge load of cum, your walls clenching around his huge cock. Right after him you cry out in pleasure as your orgasm washes over you, tears streaming down your cheeks and on the table. You squirted all over the table under you as he slowed down and then pulled out, lifting you up in his embrace and watched you come undone.

“Damn.. I didn't know Boss is this fucking rough with her.” Yunho said, surprised at the power he fucked you with.

“Yeah but.. the princess seems to enjoy it, too.” Yeosang added, the other boys nodding in agreement.

“Everyone had their way, right? Now, all, get out and get washed. Y'all know we have a busy schedule tomorrow. I'll take care of my girl.” San ordered and watched the boys leave his home before bringing you to the shower, talking you through it.

He asked you all sorts of questions. How was it, if you liked it… how did it feel. If you were scared for even a moment or if you doubted him. All these questions made you grow fonder of him, but you were too spent to answer everything in detail. He washed you and himself up and went to bed with you, cuddling and stroking your hair until you fell asleep.

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