#read wander and tell me what you think!! i really really love it

[stove-top96]

what if you did a valentine’s day one shot where the reader gets asked on a date and yandere batfam are not happy about it?

I LOVE your works so far!! I hope that you’re sleeping well and eating!! have a great day/night!!!💜💜💜

-🐈‍⬛

Please, Please, Please

Oneshot

Y Batfam x GN Reader

Featuring Platonic: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Cassandra Cain, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne

2.5K Words

Masterlist

You glance at the clock—15 minutes tell school is over. To pass the time you doodle on the corner of your notebook. Mr Miller's chemistry class was the worst. His monotone voice could lull anyone to sleep.

Your eyes drift to your desk mate, Parker. They seem just as bored as you, staring blankly out the window. Chemistry was the only class you had without Tim, which left you alone without anyone to talk to. Parker is nice, they’re the only friend you have that’s not already a part of Tim’s circle— If you could call them a friend.

They seemed to catch you staring because they started to scribble something in they’re notebook. A moment later they slid it over to you.

‘You understand any of this’ you smile and glance up at them. They had a cheeky grin. It was cute.

You shake your head and scribble something down. ‘Not a bit’.

They take the notebook back, Parker chuckles as they read your message, rolling their eyes.

“Guess we’re screwed than” they whisper.

You let out a small giggle “guess so”.

The bell rings before you and Parker can chat more. You’re quick to pack up your things, you wanna get home as soon as possible.

You sling your backpack over your shoulder but before you can head out the door Parker speaks up.

”Hey Y/n I got a question for you”

you pause before turning all your attention to them “yeah what’s up?”

”I was wondering…” their voice wavers and their cheeks go pink “well you know how Valentine’s Day is in a few days” Parker stumbles out, fingers tapping on the notebook. you nod.

”I was hoping… you and me could go out together, like on a date” their voice seemed to gain some confidence, and a boyish smile tugs on their lips.

You paused. You haven't really thought about going on a date with anyone, but the more you think about it why would you say no. Parker’s nice, funny, and they’re pretty cute.

You smile “Sure sounds like fun”.

Parker stares at you, wide eyed, like a deer in headlights. You take that as your cue to start heading out.

“Uhh. Yeah we’ll talk more tomorrow yeah?” They stammer.

“Yeah lets talk tomorrow” you call out from the other end of the classroom, before heading out the door.

Walking through the halls you check your phone. It’d been buzzing all class, it had to have been Dick.

<Dick>

Hey baby bird, how were your classes?

I’m in town today and we need to go out.

I Just asked Alfred I’m picking you up today!!

I’ll be waiting outside

Tim’s got a ride so don't worry about him

just you and me today!!

You scoff rolling your eyes. He easily could have sent these as one message, he just liked being annoying.

After putting your books away in your locker, you made your way to the parking lot. It’s packed with people and cars, but before you could spot him.

“Babybird I missed you so much!”

He yelled from across the parking lot, as he leaned against his car. You cringed as students stared at you and him. Could he get anymore embarrassing?

He ruffled your hair as you got into the passenger seat.

“C’mon let's go” he ushered you inside before, racing out of the parking lot.

“So I’m thinking we head to that new cafe you were talking about, and maybe stop by that old bookstore you like so much before we head home.” He keeps his eyes on the road.

“Yeah sounds like a plan” you smile.

He starts talking again, you tune him out. Your mind wanders back to when Parker asked you out. A giddy smile tugged at your lips. It made you feel all warm inside, this will be your first valentine’s on an actual date.

“You spacing out baby bird?” Dick raises a brow.

”sorry, sorry long day” you stammer. Dick makes a face, like he doesn’t quite believe you.

“sure.” His voice is a little irritated. Great, he's already starting to get pissy.

Your family’s always been weird about you. It's probably because you're not a vigilante but you can still take care of yourself.

It’s been getting worse as you get older, they just keep adding rules on top of rules. No going out past 7. No leaving anyone’s side at a gala. Always eat lunch with Tim’. Damian has way less rules than you do, and he doesn’t even follow them. It’s like they're scared to let you grow up.

Lately it’s been worse. Conversations stop once you enter a room. Touches lingering a little longer than normal. Eyes lingering for too long.

Whatever you’re used to their overprotectiveness.

It’s why you plan to keep your Valentine’s Day plans to yourself. You can just imagine everyone’s reactions. Dick will probably get super clingy. Tim will pull up their search history. Damian will go on a rant about how Parker doesn’t deserve you. Jason might corner them in some alley. and Cass will have that disappointed look on her face, the kind that makes you feel horrible.

Bruce might even ground you.

“Yeah” Dick’s grip tightened on the steering wheel tightens “no way” he mutters to himself.

Dicks muttering snaps you back to reality “what did you say?” You ask.

He forces a smile “Oh nothing baby bird, just excited”

You and Dick make it back after a few hours, and you’re exhausted. He took all across Gotham, trying to any and everything with you. It’s pretty obvious that he was trying to make up for lost time. He’s been in Blüdhaven more often.

by the time you step through the front door you want nothing more than to calloused into bed.

Instead you’re greeted by Damian. Judging from the scowl on his face he’s more pissed off than usual

Damian crossed his arms. ”You said you’d only take them out to eat.” He scoffed.

Dick slid off his shoes lazily , not even bothering to look up.”We were having too much fun and lost track of time.” Dick forced laughed.

Damian doesn’t move. ”You were gone for nearly 3 hours.” His voice is flat, clearly not buying the excuse.

“It’s my fault” you chime in, trying to diffuse the tension. Damian’s head turns toward you, his expression softens. “I asked Dick to drive me all over town” you smile, Dick ruffles your hair before heading down the hall. Damian doesn’t spare him a glance, his eyes locked in on you.

You start to make your way to your room, Damian follows— of course.

”you promised to be my model for my newest painting. When do you expect to make it up?” He asks. You hum “After dinner? You’ll still have a few hours until patrol”.

He pauses for a moment “I suppose that will work.” He says, the faintest smile forming on his lips.

You grip the handle of your bedroom door, praying you’ll get some alone time for once.

You don’t.

As you step inside Damian follows, his sharp gaze assessing the space. You sigh but don’t say anything.

Dinner should be ready in an hour, Damian’s not gonna leave anytime soon. might as well scroll through your phone in the meantime.

You and Damian head downstairs and as you make your way to your seat the conversation at the table does. everyone's eyes flicker towards you. You raise a brow but before you can say anything Alfred pipes up.

”I cooked your favourite tonight master y/n” he says, as if nothing is off.

You smile, shaking off the tension. “thank you Alfred”

As you go to take a bite you notice Jason’s gaze. it’s not his usual lazy smile. It’s sharper, more intense, watching. Did something happen? His anger is almost never directed towards you. Did Bruce say something?

Before your mind starts to wander your eyes glance towards Cass, she’s frowning like she’s almost disappointed in you but not quite.

“How was school today y/n?” Bruce’s voice cuts through the silence.

Everyone’s head turns to look at you. Waiting, as if they’re expecting something.

It’s fine you’re used to your family being weird like this.

You take a sip of your water ”it was fine” you force a casual tone. There is no way you can let them know about Parker.

Jason tilts his head “Nothing exciting happened?” He asked, studying your face.

You swallow “No not really.” You take another bite of your food, praying they don’t press the issue any further.

The family shares a look, silent but you noticed.

you pretend you didn’t.

Dick tried to steer the conversation in a different direction. But everyone seemed to be too lost in their thoughts to put in much effort.

The air remains heavy, the tension is palpable, and you feel everyone’s eyes on you.

It was the longest family dinner ever.

As the week drags on your family grows more intense.

It’s different this time.

They watch you closer, you never get any alone time. Even after spending more time with them than usual, they still expect something from you.

But what?

You don’t have time to think about that, todays the 14th, your first real valentine’s date. And you have everything planned.

At lunch you subtly drop a hint to Tim that you have this big chemistry project due tomorrow. Then after Lunch you’ll text Bruce and Alfred that you'll be home late, ‘working on it’. Bruce might check in with Tim, but Tim will confirm your story.

It’s practically fool proof.

Excitment courses through you all day. You have chemistry next, so you’ll be able to see Parker. You were just so excited— you deserved this.

At lunch Tim did not seem amused, in fact he looked quite pissed.

When you told him about your ‘Chemistry project’ he just forced a simile and nodded, he didn’t say anything for the rest of the period.

You didn’t pay him much mind though, you were to focused on your date.

As you walked through the halls to your chem class you kept glancing at your phone, waiting for Bruce’s response.

<y/n>

I have this super big chemistry project due tomorrow. My partner and I are gonna work on it together after school.

They’ll give me a ride back, don't worry.

<Bruce>

Ok, Tim will wait for you.

Shit.

what were you gonna do now? Tim was already onto you, there’s no way you’ll be able to go out now.

You’re so lost in thought that you don’t even notice Parker sitting down.

“Hey y/n you okay?”

You frown ”I don't think we’ll be able to go out today, my family is on my ass right now”

Why can’t you just have one nice thing, for once?

”oh” Parker pauses, they fiddle with their bag. Parker’s clearly upset about the situation as well. Then suddenly their face lights up.

Parker grins ”What if we go right now?” they exclaim. Quickly packing up their things.

You blink “What do you mean?”

“There’s only 10 minutes until class starts. We can leave right now and the teacher will never know” Excitement exudes from their voice.

Your heart pounds in your chest.

you’ve never even thought of skipping class before. You family would kill you.

But then again they’re the ones that never let you do anything. They control everything

So who cares what they do, you want to have fun.

A grin tugs on your lips. You scramble to pack up your stuff “sure lets do you”.

Parker gives that same childish smile from when they asked you out.

Despite the small voice telling you this is a bad idea, you felt excited, giddy.

you felt free.

You race to Parker’s car. A mix of adrenaline and excitement made you run faster than you ever have before.

Behind you, Parker struggled to up ”Jesus, Y/n— I’ve never seen you run so fast before” they gasped, hands on their knees trying to catch their breath.

You chuckle “sorry I got excited”

Parker shakes his head, same childish smile on their face as they unlock the car, before sitting on the driver’s side.

Before you get in you look back at the school. A shiver runs down your spine and a little voice whispers at you to turn back.

For a moment you pause. If you turn back now you wont be in any trouble.

You shake it off and hop into the seat.

+++

A cozy cafe would be the best choice. It’s close to the school you’ve been there a couple of times, and the food is really good.

As they pull into the parking lot you’re nervous. This is your first date, what is supposed to happen? What’s even the proper etiquette?

You shake your head and brush those thoughts away.

As you and Parker walk inside, you relax. The cafe is warm, with subtle pinks and blues on the wall. It smells like coffee and pastries. Parker picks a table near the back, and you settle down across from them.

Conversation between you two just seems to flow. You never realized how funny they are until today.

Any doubt you had washes away.

Once you’re finished giving the waitress your order, you take a sip of water enjoying Parker’s company. Then the bell to the door jingles.

You briefly glance up— just to see who’s there.

Bruce. Jason. Dick. Tim. Cass. Damian.

They stand in the doorway, eyes locked in on you. Their faces are unreadable.

your stomach drops.

You’re stuck. frozen like a deer in headlights, under the weight of their stare.

How did they know?

They make their way over to your table.

Bruce stops in front of you, towering over the table. “I’m disappointed y/n” his voice is monotone, but you can see the crinkle in his brows.

you just stare back at him. Too stunned to speak.

you try say something, anything. But the words die in your throat.

Dick grabs your arm, his grip is soft but firm. ushering you out of your seat.

Dick and Damian walk you out. You don’t resist, you couldn’t even if you wanted to.

Before you walk out the door you glance back.

Parker is surrounded.

Bruce says something too low for you to hear. Your chest sinks. You can only guess what they’re saying to them.

They look petrified.

It feels like an eternity before everyone else gets into the car.

“You’re grounded” Bruce states. A faint smile, barely there tugs at his lips.

You want to disappear forever.

Being grounded meant one thing.

You’ll never be alone again.

Tears start to slide down your checks, your voice wobbles ”I’m sorry— please don't ground me”

No one speaks.

No one listens.

You glance out the window, watching your freedom slip away.

I got my first request done!!!!!! As you can tell I need a lot of practice with writing short stories/oneshots. I suck at making things fast paced but I did my best. I hope you like it 🐈‍⬛ anon, tysm I had a lot of fun writing it. I also kept Parker GN so that way the reader can truly be any self insert. I’m working on CH. 03 of wicked Game rn so that’ll be what I post next. But if you have any ideas send a request I need more practice.

Also 215 followers! Thank you!!!

[kcdarchives]

my kcd2 experience

in the following post, i am going to describe my kcd2 experience and how it bred brainworms that have drilled into my grey matter and turned it into ye olde swiss cheese

i think one of the big reasons why i latched so hard onto kcd2 (and hansry) is: i actually went into kcd2 almost completely blind. the main reason i started playing was i read in a news article that there was a gay relationship in the game and i was like "oh! fun! i'm in the mood to play a new rpg anyways!" i had no idea who it was you could romance, or what form it would take. after the opening scenes, i was of course squinting VERY hard at hans. but after the stocks, he fell to the wayside for me as a player. i made henry as reasonable and conciliatory as possible and he still left? for me, as a player who hadn't played the 1st game, i shrugged and said "ok then! fine!" they let me loose and the world was my rpg oyster! i spent over 30 hours wandering around the map, doing side quests and having a generally wonderful time because the game is, above all else, a very well-made game with a ton of attention to detail, fun NPCs, and systems that i still hadn't fully learned even after a few dozens of hours in the game. as i finally attended the semine wedding, i FINALLY ran into hans again (i hadn't found him prior to this) and was reminded "oh! henry's buddy! he's here!" i went from having a funny silly carefree time at the wedding to the plot escalating so suddenly and severely. henry and hans finally reconcile. as a player, i've forgiven hans. his apology was really genuine and heartfelt and i could tell he was also probably a little lonely without the only other survivor from their company. after over 30 hours in the game, i'm VERY attached to henry, and this i am attached to hans, who he so clearly is also attached to. i can celebrate henry finally having a companion again only to have hans wrested away from henry in one of the most distressing ways possible. for whom the bell tolls was an amazingly stressful quest, and definitely one of my favorite main story segments i have played in a video game in recent memory. after this, when the first romantic dialogue option with hans appeared, i was honestly a little stunned. i felt so vindicated with my initial eye-squinting during the opening part of the game, but also, at this point i understood just how much hans was a part of the game's main plot. i was like "oh...this is a romance with...someone actually really relevant and showing up a lot!" when the second romantic dialogue option eventually showed up, that's when i really realized that their romance was going to be tied to progress in the main plot and thus i spiraled into taking several days off of work just to make progress. i was so happy whenever hans showed up and henry got to interact with him. romance aside, their friendship is well-written and it was difficult for me to forget that, besides godwin, hans is the only other person henry really knew before kcd2 that he has with him over the course of the game. so much of the main story is directly related to hans, and the consequences of both henry and hans' actions. i was constantly amazed, thinking "wow, hans is REALLY relevant to the plot! i love to see him involved!" after over a hundred hours in the game, i finally reached the culmination of their romance. and i was paralyzed. as soon as they started talking, i started yelling. i couldn't believe this was happening. it was SO romantic, so emotional, and felt like such a natural progression of their relationship over the course of the story. as soon as the "kiss him" option showed up, I stood up and had to take a minute to collect myself because i couldn't believe it was really happening. and when i finally pressed it.

the screen faded to black.

I was confused. the screen faded back in to a shot of the fireplace. i immediately started cackling uncontrollably. i had a mental breakdown. i thought "oh! they're not gonna show the kiss! that's so incredibly funny! that's so funny i'm going to die." then the shot transitioned back to them sitting on the bed. i had assumed "ah ok, they kissed offscreen. this is what i get after playing through the game for over 100 hours trying to nurture their romance. this is what all of the anti-woke gamer warriors were getting up into arms for. this is so funny. this is so monumentally hilarious." and i could not stop cackling until - wait - henry puts his hand over hans. so sweet! i gasped. perhaps now they will actually kiss? was i wrong? but then he gets up. and i'm once again given whiplash, assuming the scene is over and now he's leaving. do i have to play even further into the story? do they make progress after he comes back from his mission? only for hans to pull henry back to him and my "i sink hundreds of hours into RPGs to eat the little gay romantic breadcrumbs they leave me in relatively unimportant side conversations" brain BROKE.

every single movement elicited a scream from me. i almost couldn't understand what was happening. henry pulls away, he looks like he's going to leave. he's going to leave and they'll resolve this when he comes back? but then he LOCKS THE DOOR!!! HE LOCKS THE DOOR!!! he power walks across the room and I CANNOT STOP SCREAMING. i have to pause the game every 5 seconds so i don't have an aneurysm. the passion!!! i hadn't imagined such passion in all of my years of gaming!!! yes, the fire in the hearth was burning, but not nearly as hot as the flames of their relationship!!!!

the screen faded to black once again after they made it to the bed, and i thought "ok...it's over...i can breathe again...my god...that was crazy...that was so much more intense than i was expecting for a 'kiss him' dialogue option" only for it to fade back in to THEIR NUDE BODIES EMBRACING?? I PLAYED THIS GAME EXPECTING MAYBE A KISS OR TWO???? I was pounding my fists into my beanbag, screaming and yelling, what was HAPPENING ON MY TV SCREEN RIGHT NOW??? then the screen panned over to the shot of the two crossed swords in the foreground and I tell you, I let out the loudest, ugliest, most delighted cackle i have ever made in my life. whoever came up with that shot is so DIABOLICAL. warhorse may actually be the funniest game studio i have ever seen in my life. thank you warhorse for my life. i was exhausted by the biggest emotional rollercoaster a video game romance had ever put me through, but also simultaneously re-invigorated by, i think, perhaps the best video game romance cutscene i have ever had the pleasure of playing through in all my 20+ years of romancing fictional characters.

i ended up staying up all night finishing up the rest of the main story, and then i spent the next couple of days trying to just. absorb everything that happened and process my experience. i know its very early to make this kind of declaration but kcd2 might literally be my favorite game of 2025, and it was SO unexpected for me as something that i just arbitrarily picked up because i was just looking for a new game to play. I was seriously expecting just a kiss at the most, some not particularly important dialogue options that develop a small romantic relationship with a few conversations. maybe a fade-to-black, not much else. the kind of stuff i've grown used to in the games i've played. i think going in with no expectations made its iron-fisted grip on me that much stronger because when it delivered, it did it by crashing the airplane that is hansry into the twin towers of my heart and brain. both the main story and the gameplay just made everything feel so RIGHT and had me so emotionally invested in them, i felt like I was going insane.

for those of you who haven't actually played kcd2 for yourselves, please do try playing for yourself if you have the ability to, or at least watch a playthrough. experiencing how their relationship slowly develops over the course of the game makes the conclusion of it that much more satisfying (i still have to watch/play the 1st game, which i do intend on doing). but also the side quests are so fun and interesting!!! and the other characters are SO charming and likeable.

i am #1 janosh fan!!!

anyways my big rant is over, i feel much better now ahaha

[nthewriter]

(Sorry I had writer block ;-; please be advised this chapter can be uncomfortable to read, it's angsty)

Being Simon's long lost biological child

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 (you are here!)

"Did you seriously search "how to be a good dad"?" Johnny asked with an arched eyebrow, looking at the computer.

"Better late than nothing."

"Si, honey, I think that's more of an instinct thingy."

"My only instincts are to kill and to protect." Simon groaned, head back in annoyance. "I am really trying, Johnny."

"I know." He felt the other man's hands on his shoulders massaging him. "It's been a few weeks now. We could... have a family lunch? Could cook something, and they often eat alone in their room."

"You're an angel. You know that?"

Simon genuinely tried to be a good father. It was just... hard. Too hard sometimes. He drove (Y/N) to their therapy sessions twice a week, waited for them, tried to remember things they liked to which they would reply "I am not five anymore dad!". Well, at least they recognised him as their father. Which was good, he guessed.

Johnny had always been a good cook, that’s what he had found out after starting to live with the Scottish man. He always had cookbooks everywhere, freshly and neatly aligned by categories. Ever since he had been lightly discharged from the army, Johnny has been trying out all kinds of cooking, even once cooking something with dry insects. Simon still remembered trying to smile and to tell his beloved he was liking it.

Simon dressed up the table nicely. He wanted to make sure that (Y/N) felt included, welcomed… loved. He did feel like an asshole for not trying to step up earlier. It would have avoided all this mess. It would have surely prevented Elsie's death. It would have prevented his child from being turned into a mindless killer who worshiped Vladimir Makarov like a saint.

They came out the bedroom, footsteps light but Simon could hear them coming down the stairs. When he looked up, he found his child staring back at him with a frown.

“What's the occasion?”

“We thought we could have a family dinner tonight. You, me, Soap.” He jerked with his head toward the kitchen. Simon usually used his partner's callsign as a pet name.

“I'm not hungry.”

“You better be. He spent the whole afternoon in the kitchen trying to find something that will please you.” There he went with his aggressive and harsh tone. He tried to calm and ground himself. “Listen- I just- Johnny just wanted to spend some time with you.”

“So we can pretend everything is okay? That we are a perfect little family?” (Y/N) replied, mimicking his aggressive tone.

“Yes. Just for once. Please.” Simon begged as he moved and awkwardly clasped their shoulder. He squeezed it lightly.

“Fine.”

The evening went on quietly. Simon put on some light music, trying to make the atmosphere less tense. He had cleaned up a little, trying to look good. His eyes wandered to his child who took a few bites off the food Johnny had prepared.

“It's good?” Johnny asked the kid.

“Yeah.”

They often spoke few words when they were around the couple. Simon felt bad, he wanted to include them into the family. So he tried to make conversation.

“Doctor Fonda said you were making a lot of efforts. That's nice. I am proud of you.”

“Proud of what? Of me “seeing things your way”?” They spoke aggressively.

“No- I meant-”

“Meant what?” They glared at him across the table. And the man felt a white hot rage rising in his body. Couldn’t they see he was trying?! Trying to be a better father?!

“Simon, calm down.” Johnny put his hand on his partner's under the table.

“I'm calm.”

“Speak to yourself, old man. Sounds like you have seen a ghost or something.” They grinned, continuing to fuel his rage. “What? Do I look like mom? How did you feel when she died after you left her to rot all alone?”

“I didn't leave her! You're making me sound bad.” Simon growled, slowly standing up. And his kid stood too.

“Because you're trying to play the hero, again, when in reality you're just a freaking loser! She died because of you!”

“And you should have died with her! That will save me a bunch of problems!” Simon roared back. “I didn't want you in the first fucking place! I wish she had aborted you like I begged her in the first place.”

Then, silence. Complete silence. (Y/N) stomped back to their room, slamming the door. The dinner was cold. Simon sighed and put a hand through his hair. He had fucked up. Again. He had said things he didn't mean to say. Or perhaps… and it was the worst, he meant them.

Turning to Johnny, he tried to apologise. But the other man just groaned something under his breath, clearly annoyed at him.

“The dishes need to be done.” Johnny spoke with an emotionless voice as he grabbed the half empty plate.

Simon sat back into his chair. He wasn't a good father. But he was a good destroyer.

[shivunin]

✨Self-Rec Tag Game ✨

Rules: Share five of your own fanworks (fic, art, etc.). Then, tag five more people to share the things they've made. I’ve put categories below, but they’re more guidelines than rules.  1. Something you absolutely adore 2. Something that was challenging to create 3. Something that makes you laugh (or smile, if that fits more comfortably)  4. Something that surprised you (in how it turned out, how much other people liked it, etc.) 5. Something you want other people to see

@gaysebastianvael and @dungeons-and-dragon-age tagged me back to do this; thank you both! c:

Tidal Lock (T, 20k words, Cullavellan): This fic is the first finished thing I posted to AO3. It's a pretty different style from the other things I've written, but it's my comfort read for myself. I love stories that loop in on themselves, so have a big ol soft spot for it c: Writing Cullen as a kid was so fun and I fully intend to do it again sometime.

My Fenris scarf. My hands are a bit shaky, so I have a hard time drawing things. Unfortunately, I needed to draw the lyrium brand design straight onto the yarn (not a great surface for drawing things, btw) before I could embroider them into it with the glow-in-the-dark yarn. It turned out really well, but just putting the design down with chalk paint took at least three hours (only a little less than doing all of the embroidery)

3. Ohhh man, I'm having trouble deciding! Here are three options:

This ficlet about Elowen and Cullen after they almost kiss. They are both such an absolute mess, this conversation is even messier, and every time I think about it I get the giggles c:

This ficlet about Hawke producing most of a deck of cards from her and Fenris's person after a night at the Hanged Man (I just...think it's funny to imagine her sticking them into his belt during a card game and Fenris fully knows, but pretends he doesn't. for the bit)

This fic on AO3 (explicit) with Arianwen and Zevran; specifically the part after the smut things are done, when they're dusting each other off and lightly arguing about their little competition. They're just...such dorks sometimes.

4. Search Your Hands (E, 13,581 words), easy. I actually had this most of the way finished six months before I finished it, but I was convinced it was too silly to post (and thankfully @star--nymph convinced me that it was worth finishing <3).

One of my favorite things about writing Cullavellan is exploring the funky little miscommunications that happen with you're in a multicultural relationship and this fic was inspired by that. There's just a mismatch between Cullen (who, having very few personal possessions, is almost certainly inexperienced at receiving gifts) and a cultural tradition involving gift-giving as an expression of Serious Romantic Intent. I did not expect it to be as well-loved as it is, but it has (by a dramatic margin) the highest kudos to bookmarks ratio of all my stories (at ~1/3) and is like...the fifth most-kudo'd thing I have on AO3, which is wild for a one-shot with minimal smut.

5. Wander the Drifting Roads!! (M, 108,331 words)

It is the fic I am most proud of (though I think Palimpsest might be my number two at the moment) and it's also, indirectly, the reason I wound up actually deciding to participate in the Dragon Age fandom. I wouldn't have most of my fandom friends without Wander, so just that would be enough for me to want to share it.

Friendship aside, though, I think it's some of my best writing. Cullen is exposed to red lyrium and loses his memory in between the main game and Trespasser. His Lavellan (Emmaera) has to figure out how to carry on without him as Commander or her lover and they take a very long road back to each other again. If you're okay with some angst before a happy ending (or if you're really into yearning), I think it's a great exploration of what makes someone who they are: is it a formal title or role? is it memory? is it the circumstances they've overcome to get where they are? or is it something less easily-defined than that?

Writing Wander was very challenging (especially towards the end) but so rewarding and worth it. When I want to feel that very particular sort of hurt you get from a sad fic (the kind that twists in your heart), I open up Wander again and put myself through chapter 7.

(I want to stress that it does have a happy ending lol, and a whole anthology of sweet domestic things to follow it up, but I think most people hang onto the hurt part of the hurt/comfort in Wander lol)

I tried to tag most of my mutuals when I made the original post, but: @daggerbean I'd love to see what you've made! and anyone else who wants a reason to show off your fanstuff is welcome to join in c: Tag me so I can see!

[kaciidubs]

Talk Dirty [Like You Need Love]

This song has me thinking heavily about expanding this into a fuller fic, so if people end up liking it, maybe I'll go ahead and finish it further! ✧ Summary: Chris was a great friend, picking you up from work whenever you had a late shift - so, it was only fair that you wanted to repay him. ✧  ✧ Word Count: 3.5k ✧ Warnings: Biker!AU, friends to ???, smut, slight dom! Chris, open ended ✧  ✧ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ✧  ✧ Additional Tags: Reader is referred to as Baby, Good Girl, Pretty, Chris is referred to as Baby, Channie ✧ Stray Kids Masterlist ✧ General Masterlist

The streetlights came and went in intermittent strobes, passing over the two of you as his motorcycle hummed along the sparsely occupied street.

Your arms were wrapped securely around his waist just as he’d taught you, the warmth of your body against his back combating the chill of the crisp night air - he really wished he hadn’t forgotten his hoodie in his rush to pick you up.

“Are you cold?” 

As if reading his mind, your voice floated through the comms of his helmet and he shook his head, “I’m alright, baby - don’t worry about me.”

Of course, you weren’t easily swayed - it was a quality he loved about you, no matter how much he preferred to be the one to look out for everyone else, you were always there to double back on him with undeterrable determination; proved by the way you leaned a little more against his back.

He wouldn’t have thought twice about your sweet gesture if it weren’t for the shifting of your arms, your hands slowly splayed against his torso.

“I always worry about you, Chris…” Your voice was soft, dripping with sweet honey as your right hand wandered its way higher, following the soft defined path of his chest underneath his shirt. “It’s hard not to, if I’m honest.”

He took a short breath, unsure if this was truly happening or if his mind was playing tricks on him and twisting your intentions to fit his deep seated desires.

That is, until your left hand carefully danced its way to his thigh, sitting nicely against the cotton of his sweatpants.

“You always do so much for everyone else- do so much for me,” your hand flexed, nails pressing lightly against his thigh, “I just wanna do something for you in return, you know?”

The bike slowed to a roll as you reached a stoplight, Chris keeping the balance with his otherwise unoccupied leg while taking the opportunity to hold onto the outside of your own thigh.

“Be careful with your words, baby - you might give me the wrong idea.”

“Are my actions not enough?” You murmured, inching your hand higher, fingertips brushing along the inseam of his sweats, “Should I do more, Channie?”

His hand left the brake clutch to wrap around your wrist, electricity flowing through your veins like a completed circuit. “You shouldn’t do this. We shouldn’t do this.”

“But I want this, I need this.”

Your hand squeezed, your voice filling his head like the intoxicating lull of a siren’s call.

“I need you.”

Green.

Chris tapped your thigh, ignoring the chill that ran down his spine when you seamlessly went back to holding onto him just like he taught you; arms around his waist, your body against his back.

The ride to his apartment felt like second nature with you - much like other things he did with you, if he were honest with himself - and the moment he pulled into his parking spot, his movements only felt more natural.

Switch engine off. Kickstand down.

Your hands slid up his back, gripping his shoulders as you eased yourself off of his motorcycle, and by the time your touch left him, Chris hopped from his seat with learned grace - his hands unbuckling and taking off his helmet in record time.

By the time your own helmet was off, cradled in your arms, his intense gaze caught your eyes, locking you in a stare off that said more than words could convey, yet their true meaning would be lost to memory with what left his lips.

“Are you sure about this?” He breathed, “Tell me right now and I’ll take you home, and we can pretend none of this happened - just, tell me.”

“Chris,” his name fluttered from your lips like butterfly wings, “I meant every word, I’m sure, I’m so sure-”

Before you knew it, his lips were on yours - the warmth of his palm settling on your cheek in a hold that dared your knees to give out from underneath you - but as fast as they’d appeared, they vanished, leaving you dazedly blinking up at deep brown eyes.

“C’mon.”

The journey up to his apartment was a blur; the melodic chime of the front door’s lock welcoming you to the final stage of your decision as he ushered you through the doorway.

Shoes haphazardly kicked off next to another pile of pairs and helmets stored on a shelf, the empty living room was graced with your presence for what felt like half a second before you were finally where you needed to be.

Chris’s room was a place you’d only been inside of a handful of times, if not to stick your head in to announce your arrival when hanging out with his roommates, then to visit whenever he had a new snippet of a song he wanted to share; there wasn’t a chance for a tour then, and there certainly wouldn’t be a tour now.

With a subtle flick of a switch, the once dark room was suddenly bathed in a dim glow from the led lights lining the ceiling - warm and welcoming, much like the arms that wrapped around you from behind, followed by a soft pair of lips you were quickly getting used to pressing against the junction of your neck and shoulder.

His hold grew tighter as his lips ventured higher - a dotted line of kisses, a brush of his breath against the back of your ear, followed by the ghost of his lips along the shell. 

“Are you still sure?”

Your eyelids fluttered, your lips parting to sigh out words evoked from the fantasies of your deepest desires, “I’m yours.”

He turned you around, and for the first time you were able to truly appreciate the feeling of his lips against your own - soft, likely from the myriad of lip care products your friends tease him for, a sensation you could find yourself craving every day and never growing tired of in the end.

You kissed him back with fervor, taking the liberty of cupping the line of his jaw with one hand while the other cradled the back of his neck, the faint curls of his hair tickling your fingertips.

Chris was the first to pull away, gifting you a fleeting peck when you tried in vain to follow him, just to reach overhead and tug his shirt up and off before unceremoniously dropping it to the floor. However, he barely gave you the chance to admire the view as his hands went to help you out of your hoodie while your own hands hastily went to tug up your shirt in the messy, frantic process.

Two articles down, the warmth of his hands were now free to meet your waist and his lips were on yours once more; his hold tightening as he took a step forward, nudging and guiding you backward until the backs of your legs met the edge of his bed. Obliging to his silent request, you sat down, using the strength in your arms to wiggle yourself up enough to lay comfortably on the full sized mattress and welcome the weight of him on top of you until it wasn’t.

Looking up, you were met with his heated stare, all but devouring you with his eyes as he took in the view - though, you figured you fared the same way when your eyes ventured down, following the strong slope of his shoulders before taking in the sight of his chest.

It wasn’t a view you hadn’t seen before thanks to his aversion of shirts in his own home - granted, it was his apartment, so you couldn’t fault him for the times he’d come out of his room to see you happily chatting away with his roommates unbeknownst to him - but you could now appreciate the details you wouldn’t have taken in otherwise such as defined pectorals and the smallest beginnings of abs against his otherwise soft stomach.

Ending the unintentional standoff, Chris lent forward, his fingertips just barely grazing your lower stomach as they went to the button of your jeans, “Can I?”

“Please.”

The corner of his lips ticked up but he ducked his head before you could see the smirk blossom, though you couldn’t find yourself to care once your jeans were undone, lifting your hips to help him shuffle the garment down the length of your legs and watching him give them the same fate as your shirts.

“These too?” He mused with a teasing lilt, eyes flicking from your own to the plain black panties you wore.

A short huff brushed past your lips, an unamused pout pursuing them. “Chris.”

The sound of his delighted giggles bounced off the walls, reducing the heat of arousal to a nice simmer that your nerves greatly appreciated - that is, until his fingers hooked underneath the waistband and slowly pulled them off; the sensation of his knuckles dragging along your thighs drawing a soft gasp from you.

It wasn’t long until they were down your legs, past your feet, and dropped off the edge of the bed, leaving you entirely bare from the waist down.

“Fuck…” He breathed, propping his knee on the bed as his hands slid up from your calves to the backs of your knees, caressing your skin before gently bringing them up and out - exposing your pussy to his pure delight. “Look at you, pretty girl.”

A wave of heat washed over you followed by an embarrassed whimper, “Chris, don’t say that.”

“Why not?” Looking up, he cocked his head slightly, “You said you were mine, which means I’m allowed to compliment what’s mine, yeah?” He bent down, maintaining eye contact as he kissed your knee softly, “You belong to me, right, baby?”

Your heart jumped to your throat, his words working like a spell against your lust addled mind.

“I belong to you.” You breathed softly, melting into his hypnotizing gaze.

A pleased hum vibrated through him as he dipped his head to kiss the inside of your thigh, his lips brushing against your skin, “Good girl.”

His kisses trailed higher and higher, growing messier and messier as he went - a nip here, a suck there, open mouthed and worshiping until he reached your pussy.

Just as he was about to dive in face first, your hand tugged at his hair, effectively breaking him out of his tunnel vision to give you his undivided attention.

“What’s wrong? Do you wanna stop? I can-”

“No! God, no - it’s just…” You took a deep breath, your bravado escaping you the instant you stopped him, “I want you to eat me out, but I wanna suck your dick too. I wanna make you feel good too, Channie”

“You wanna suck my dick, pretty?” A shiver ran down Chris’s spine at the mere thought, his dick painfully straining underneath his boxer briefs and sweats. “Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me, you know that? Words like that coming from a mouth like yours - you’re a fucking dream.”

His presence left from between your legs and part of you felt silly for missing it until you saw him reaching for his sweatpants - even through the black fabric you were able to make out the noticeable bulge tenting the front - the waistband of Calvin Klein nudging you in the right direction of what he wore underneath.

Pushing both articles past his hips, your eyes were immediately glued to the dips in his pelvis - the Adonis belt, a fitting alternate description of his v-line until your attention jumped to a scattering of hair beneath his navel leading to seemingly maintained pubic hair.

However, your peep show was obscured by his head as he bent forward to take his clothes off the rest of the way, giving you the chance to mentally prepare for the grand reveal. By the time he stood straight again, you couldn’t help the audible gasp that left you, your eyes widening as you took him in all his glory - all of the jokes his friends would make now having validity behind their digs.

“I hope that’s a good reaction…” Chris spoke sheepishly, his ears as red as a tomato as he averted his eyes to the side, one hand twitching to cover himself while the other anxiously rubbed the back of his neck.

“Chris,” your soft call was enough to bring his eyes back to you, just in time to see you undoing your bra and tossing it to the floor, “I really want you in my mouth, baby.”

The air of shyness quickly left him as he smirked, making his way back onto the bed, “Say please.”

Reaching forward, your fingers danced along the underside of his jaw before you whispered, “Please?”

It was almost instantaneous in the way you found yourself straddled over his face, his hands massaging the plush of your thighs as if he couldn’t get enough of the way they squished and jiggled under his hold.

You leaned forward, eyes eagerly taking in his dick from the new angle; he was thick, probably an inch over average if you had to guess, with the prettiest veins that begged for your tongue to trace them.

“Don’t force yourself to take me, okay?” He called from the other end, the feeling of his breath against your cunt sending chills down your spine. “I know I’m… y’know, big, so I don’t want you to hurt yourself to make me feel good - you letting me do this is more than enough, baby.”

“I can do it Channie,” spitting into your palm, you graciously took him into your hand with a slow stroke, “I’ll be okay.”

A low groan escaped him, your sudden touch sending him into the stratosphere, “Just- Be careful for me, alright?”

Humming in agreement, you wasted no time in littering his tip in butterfly kisses and kitten licks, slowly getting yourself used to the bittersweet taste of his precum.

“Shit…” Not holding himself back any longer, Chris slid his hands up to your hips before pulling you back onto his mouth, his tongue eagerly diving between your folds as if it were an ice cream cone on a hot summer’s day.

The action made you jolt forward, though you barely moved an inch thanks to his hold on you, your lips parting to let a moan float through.

“Mm, not too loud, baby,” he spoke against your pussy, kissing the hood of your clit, “don’t wanna wake up my roommates, yeah?”

As much as the idea called to something daring within you, you shook your head, using this as an opportunity to take the first few inches of his cock into your mouth; just enough to have the weight settle on your tongue while your hand stroked what you hadn’t gotten to yet.

“There you go.”

With that, he went back to exploring your pussy with his tongue, dipping past your walls every now and then before going back to dancing around your clit - his hands enjoying their new home on the curve of your ass.

To say the feeling of his mouth on you was mind numbing would’ve been the understatement of a lifetime - it was as if he was eating you out in the most respectfully disrespectful way, the sounds of his lips sucking your clit paired with low, breathless moans before he went back to lapping up your arousal was pure debauchery.

You tried your best to be diligent, bobbing your head in time with the curls of his tongue against your slit while your fist used whatever drool that dripped from your lips as lubricant to keep each stroke smooth and slick - your efforts not going in vain by the way his thigh would flex, or the twitch of his hips - but you were quickly falling victim to the pleasure.

“Taste so fucking good, baby,” he mouthed against your pussy, as if moving even an inch away would be detrimental to his psyche, “could stay here forever.”

The thought had you moaning around his cock, pulling away to give your lungs the reprieve of a full breath, only for a whined exhale to follow suit. “C-Chris, please.”

“Please, what?” Flattening his tongue, he licked a fat stripe up before giving your clit the lightest kiss imaginable, “Gonna come for me, pretty? Is that what you want?”

“N-No,” dropping your face to his thigh, you focused all of your energy into keeping your hand moving, “w-wanna make you come first, just- shit, just slow down a little!”

Chris hummed, feigning deep consideration, “But what if I want you to come for me?” His right hand slid further between your legs, his index finger stroking your fluttering walls with the promise of something more, “You said you wanted to repay me - so, let me make you come.”

Your hips bucked, muscles yearning to press back against the pressure to send you over the edge you were dangerously teetering over. “But-”

“Baby,” the velvet drawl of the pet name earned a pitiful hum in response, “you wanna make me feel good, don’t you?” He felt your head nod against his thigh, huffing out a short chuckle before continuing, “You wanna ‘repay’ me for everything I do for you, right?”

“Yes.” You sighed out, eyes fluttering at the feeling of his thumb replacing his finger in favor of toying with your clit.

“Well, guess what?” Dragging his thumb up, he pressed it against your slit, “Watching you come for me- Feeling you come for me is all I could ever want from you,” slowly pushing his thumb past your walls, he ghosted his lips against your inner thigh, “show me how good I’m making you feel, baby - do it for me, please.”

He punctuated his plea by swirling his tongue around your clit once more, thrusting his thumb in time with each flick while his left hand held your hip tightly.

Your mouth fell open, a moan fighting its way through your vocal chords only to come out as choked gasps, “Ch-ah- Channie- Fuck- Channie p-please-”

Pressing his thumb in to the knuckle, Chris wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, humming out a low moan that proved to be the final straw to push you over the edge.

“Chris- C-Chris-!” Lifting your head, you put your mouth over your arm in hopes of muffling the airy moans escaping you, your vision blurring behind pleasure-fueled tears as he worked you through your orgasm.

His thumb slipped from your entrance to make room for his tongue to lap up your cum, drinking you up like a tall glass of water after a day in the sun.

It didn’t take long for you to catch your bearings, going to move away from his face until his hands tightened on your hips in silent challenge, a disgruntled grunt rising from your pure audacity of interrupting him.

“Channie, ‘s too much,” you whined breathlessly, wrenching your hand away from his - still hard - dick in favor of pushing yourself up onto your arms, “c-can’t take it, baby, please.”

Pulling away with a lewd slurp, Chris heaved a heavy breath, combating the lightheadedness of his tunnel vision while you carefully maneuvered yourself away from him - shuffling around to hover your head over a pillow before collapsing in the empty space, your body gratefully welcoming the cool sheets against your skin.

Bated breaths danced in the otherwise quiet atmosphere, Chris’s gaze locked on the ceiling as his lust-fogged brain tried to make sense of what just happened between the two of you.

“Channie?”

His heart fluttered at your soft call of his name, turning his head just to come across a sight that made his breath catch; you, his friend, laying beside him looking beautifully ruined with the golden afterglow of your orgasm that he gave you emanating from your body.

He tentatively licked his lips, goosebumps rising as your taste still lingered in his mouth, “Yeah, baby?”

“I still wanna make you come.” You murmured softly, eyes blinking at him so innocently it almost felt wrong that it made his dick twitch at the sight. “I still owe you, after all.”

Chris huffed out a chuckle, lifting himself onto his forearm before hoisting himself above you, settling his hips between your legs as he caged you in with his arms - this was a sight he could get used to.

“Instead of making this out to be you repaying a debt, how about we turn it into a ‘thank you’ gift, hm?” Leaning his head down, he brushed his nose against yours, “You thank me for the ride and the orgasm,” his lips ghosted against your own, “then I thank you for thanking me.”

“Chris, that won’t make any sense,” your voice was barely a whisper, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, “if you thank me, I’ll just thank you back - we’ll be in a loop.”

“We’ll work out the details later, then.” He murmured before leaning forward, catching your lips with his and sharing your taste off of his tongue.

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @maximumkillshot, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @specialstay, @s00buwu, @tinyelfperson, @jj-stay, @katsukis1wife, @inlovewithmusician, @keen-li, @armystay89, @main-character0, @vampcharxter, @ddyskz, @prettymiye0n, @bbgnyx, @bahng-chrizz, @milknhoneyracha, @hann1bee, @palindrome969, @newhope8, @kpopsstuffs, @starquokka, @wolfs-howling, @laylasbunbunny, @4-chan-inpadella, @butterflydemons, @kimahreummm, @ta3baee, @snowy-violet @bethanysnow

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[bernardsbendystraws]

𝒅𝒐𝒍𝒍 .ᐟ 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

⚠︎  pure fluff, cuddling, anxiety, boyfriend matt

⤷ Get to reading, sluts. No copying. Ask if you’d like to use this as ‘inspiration.’ Fuck off and fuck me, lets get horny!!!

matt’s favorite toy, Rose

©bernardsbendystraws

“Ah—shit,” Matt spits. He stares at his PC, viciously moving his fingers on the controller while whispering out curses under his breath. You were tired—exhausted, even. The day had dragged out longer than it should’ve. Hanging out with friends was supposed to be fun—and it was. Up until you laid down and in bed and overanalyzed every word you had said. You just wanted him, but your lips wouldn’t open to spill out that confession—not when you knew he might’ve had a long day too and this was his release. 

Minutes feel like hours. Your body won’t relax, not when you feel so…bad. Anxiety feeds into your insecurities. The joy you had felt being with your friends has faded into regret. Nothing was worth this feeling. Why did you even bother trying? 

“Fuck—,” Matt yells, punching his fist down on the desk. The dumb mess up had cost him a lot of progress in his game. He flinches realizing his mistake—remembering you’re in his bed, probably asleep. 

Taking a quick peep over his shoulder, Matt furrows his eyebrows while analyzing your face. “Am I keepin’ you up? I’m sorry, doll. I’ll…I’m gonna keep it down—” He lets the words fall into the air. A slight shrug from your end tells him enough—something isn’t okay. Your eyes showed no trace of sleep, only frustration. 

“Hey,” he calls out. You let your eyes daze into Matt’s. His soft expression falls into worry as he quickly shuts off his game. Wandering over towards the bed, he sits on the edge of the mattress, pulling your head into his lap as his fingers trace through your hair. “What’s going on, sweetheart?” 

What is going on? You don’t even know—not enough to actually explain it anyhow. “I…it….I don’t know, really. I, um—I had fun with my friends. We caught up and everything, but…” 

“But?” Matt encourages. 

The question seems to affect you more than you’d like. Saying it outloud feels relieving—but it also feels like too much. “It’s…I just can’t stop thinking, I guess.” 

It’s only a couple simple words, but Matt can read every subtle movement in your face. He just knows—a little too well. 

“I get that. I…I’m sorry, doll. I’m here for you, okay? Why don’t we just cuddle and talk, yeah?” he offers, moving around to lay on the bed and pull you into his chest. 

You sigh at the warmth, your head starts to pulse a little less with racing thoughts and pulling you back to reality. He’s grounding you. An anchor that makes you feel like you’re a part of reality, not just watching from a lens. It’s real. You’re here. 

“You’re so warm,” you mention. 

Matt lets out a soft laugh at your remark, pulling you in just a little closer. “Yeah? Good. I…I love holding you like this, ya know?” 

The frown on your lips slowly curls upward, a soft grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. “I…I love it too,” you breathe out. 

It’s all so warm—so comforting. The bed seems to let the weight of your bodies sink in further, tangled limbs and soft touches creating a shield from the cold air prickling tainted thoughts into your mind. You’re here. You’re here in his arms. You’re safe. 

You wanna say it. Those three words settle on the brink of slipping as you let yourself drown in the feeling of it—love. It’s almost as if he can sense it, or maybe it’s just because he feels it. 

“I love you. So much.” His voice is melodic as he breathes out the words. It’s enough encouragement to put your mind at ease. It’s enough to make you sink completely into the feeling instead of letting your mind overpower your heart. 

“I love you.”

Thank you for reading!!! Any interaction is deeply appreciated <333

[steddiehyperfixation]

silly little thing for my @steddiebingo prompt: nerds | 758 words | T |

"Hey, maybe he can help," Robin says, sweeping a hand towards Dustin who's just walked into Family Video for his regularly scheduled afterschool bug Steve and Robin time, interrupting their conversation.

"Oh come on." Steve shakes his head. "The kid doesn't want to hear about my trash heap of a love life."

"Oh, no, I absolutely want to hear about that." Dustin perks up at the opportunity to learn about Steve's trivial suffering.

"We're trying to figure out why Steve goes on a million dates but can't seem to find someone he actually likes," Robin fills Dustin in. "Tell him, Steve."

Steve groans, dragging his hands over his face before splaying them out sarcastically, as that's the only thing he can really do in protest right now. Dustin's looking at him expectantly, and Steve has no choice but to tell the kid all about Linda and Heidi and Brenda and Lucy and whoever else he's been out with recently, doing his best to answer any subsequent questions as PG as possible.

"Well of course you haven't found the one yet, you keep trying to date a bunch of normal, basic, girly girls. That's not your type," Dustin informs him once Steve's done talking.

Steve raises his eyebrows. "Oh, it isn't?"

"You can't really be that stupid, can you?"

"No, please, Henderson, enlighten me on what you think my type is."

"You're into nerds," he says like it's completely obvious.

Steve scoffs. "I am not into nerds. You know, just because I hang around you little weirdos all the time does not actually mean I want to hang around even more weirdos in all the other aspects of my life too."

"Seriously, Steve, think about it," Dustin argues. "Think of all the girls you've actually been really genuinely into in your life. They've all been nerds! Nancy-"

"- is not a nerd."

"She's a straight-A student and a journalism super geek. She's a nerd."

Steve rolls his eyes and sighs grudgingly. "Alright, fine, but-"

"And you were into Robin-"

Robin wrinkles her nose. "Ugh, don't remind me."

"-who you can't deny is definitely a nerd," Dustin continues.

"You know what, actually, he does have a point," Robin says.

Steve looks at her in betrayal. "Don't encourage him!"

"That girl you told me about that you liked in middle school who was super into Star Trek, and the other one who wanted to write a fantasy novel one day- oh and the elementary school crush who was always reading a new book every day..." Robin lists, ticking each one off on her fingers.

"I told you all that in confidence!"

"They were all nerds!"

"Exactly." Dustin grins, vindicated and insufferably smug. "Ergo, you, Steve Harrington, need to find yourself a nerd."

"I am not into nerds!" Steve protests hopelessly.

"What more proof do you need?" Dustin says. "You're into nerds."

"Totally into nerds," Robin concurs.

Steve huffs and throws up his hands. "Fine! I'll admit I'm into nerds if it will make you two shut up about it!"

Eddie happens to wander into the previously empty store at that exact moment, catching the tail end of the conversation as he approaches the counter. "What's all this about nerds?"

Steve freezes, glances Eddie over and stares at him strangely for a few long seconds. "Holy shit," he mutters.

His gaze cuts to Robin, whose eyes go wide when she meets his look. "Holy shit," she agrees.

"Oh my god."

"Oh my god."

"Dude."

"Dude!"

Eddie blinks at them. "Are you two having some sort of joint stroke or something?" He looks at Dustin as if the kid might have a better clue of what's going on. "Can you understand them?"

Dustin shrugs, equally mystified. "Don't look at me, man. They're weird."

The incomprehensible parroting conversation is still going on.

"Okay," Steve's saying, taking a deep breath in through his nose and exhaling determinedly.

"Okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay." Robin grins and shoves at his shoulder.

Steve finally turns back around and leans on the counter in front of Eddie with a classically charming smile. "So, Eddie, are you free on Saturday?"

Eddie smiles back despite his confusion. "Yeah-"

"Oh my god!" Dustin bursts out suddenly.

"Oh my god," Robin agrees with a knowing smirk.

Eddie glances at Dustin. "Oh no, not you too."

Steve exhales a long-suffering sigh and pushes himself off the counter, marching around to grab Eddie by the hand and drag him away from Dustin and Robin. "So. Saturday?"

"He's into nerds," Dustin whispers, wide-eyed.

Robin nods sagely. "He's into nerds."

[joonie-beanie]

Hat Guy's ASMR Commissions: S Tier | [Scaramouche/Wanderer x Reader]

Summary: Subject: Your Commission For [Guided Masturbation Audio - 30 minute session] In which your asshole best friends order a commission from your favorite ASMR artist, and it's a lot more NSFW than you were expecting. "From this moment on, you’re going to follow my directions. I’d say “if you fail to, you’ll be punished” but we both know you’re probably just another people pleaser who will do whatever I say, as long as you know it will make me happy. But fair warning–I won’t be happy until you’re so fucked out you can’t speak a coherent word.” Content: Smut, Guided Masturbation, Toy Use, Name Calling, Degradation/Humiliation, fem!reader Word Count: 6.5k Note: this is kind of an untraditional smut, so just keep that in mind lol

“Sweetheart…you really need to find some way to relax.”

“I agree. If you don’t release your tension, it’ll do a number on your health.”

You really appreciate Lisa and Yae being so concerned for you, but…

“I know. It’s just…not that easy for me.”

By now, in theory, you should have figured out some better coping mechanisms and ways to destress, but alas.

Taking a book from the return bin, Lisa scans it, and then places it onto the go-back cart.

“Well, have you tried getting off?”

Her suggestion makes you jerk, your head swiveling as you glance around the library to see if anyone nearby has overheard. At your side, Yae giggles.

“Calm down…finals have just ended. No one is in the library anymore—they’re out partying.”

You sigh. 

You suppose she’s right. The only reason you three are here is because Lisa is working the closing shift, and because Yae had insisted that you come along to the library with her to keep Lisa company.

“Traditional porn, a good adult novel, ASMR—all would be good options,” Lisa continues.

“I’m not really into porn right now, and I don’t think I have the bandwidth to focus on a book,” you say, resting your cheek in your palm. “As for ASMR…I’m not a big fan. I’ve really only discovered one creator that I like…”

“Oh?” 

Now that piques their interest. 

“What’s their name?”

“He goes by “Hat Guy” on twitter,” you tell them. “He mostly just…posts audio responses to dumb takes, or makes ASMR mocking other ASMR trends, but his voice is nice, and he has a small fan base…despite him kind of being a little shit.”

“How cute,” Lisa laughs while Yae pulls out her phone.

“Well, then…since it sounds like he doesn’t have any relaxing content, maybe you should just go home and take a nice bath. Did you ever use that bath bomb I got you for your birthday?”

“No,” you mumble sheepishly. At your side, Yae taps your knee.

“Lisa is right. Go home and have a bath. I’ll keep her company until she’s done.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise.

“Are you sure…? I just got here like half an hour ago and now you want me to go home?”

“I just think some “you” time would be good,” she tells you with a smile. You pout your lips, but ultimately decide that…maybe she’s right.

“Fine, I’ll head home and rest, then.”

“Good girl,” Yae responds, patting your ass when you bend over to grab your backpack. You narrow your eyes at her, but aren’t truly mad.

“Be careful on your walk home~,” Lisa says as you start towards the exit. You wave at them both over your shoulder, and then leave the building.

A few seconds after your departure, Lisa turns to Yae.

“Alright, what did you find that you didn’t want Y/N to know about?”

Yae grins, loving that Lisa has already caught on.

“Look—”

She gets up from her seat and leans over to show Lisa her phone screen.

“I found Hat Guy’s twitter and saw that he’s accepting commissions, and look at one of the options~”

She points to something, and Lisa’s eyes hurriedly scan the text in front of her. 

When she has finished reading, she grins.

“Oh, my…well, that’s certainly tempting.”

“I was thinking maybe we can give it to Y/N as a… “you survived finals! Use this to relax” type present. Since she’s always doing thoughtful things for us when we’re swamped.”

Lisa smiles, putting a thoughtful finger to her lips.

“I agree. She’s brought us so many cups of tea over the last few months. It’s the least we can do.”

“Good,” Yae says with a nod, immediately clicking on the commission link.

“She deserves a little…fun.”

Between the end of the previous semester, and the start of the new one, your University has generously given you a long weekend. 

4 days, to be exact. 

Most of this long weekend you spend doing the chores you’ve put off, and working a few shifts at your job. 

It’s only by some grace that you end up with Sunday off. One final day to try and relax before classes begin tomorrow…

You do your best to make the most of it—mindlessly scrolling tiktok, folding some clothes, debating if you should order food out, and ultimately deciding against it, since you just went grocery shopping…

All in all, it’s a pretty mundane day.

…at least, until the icon for your email app appears at the top of your phone screen, and you swipe down the notification to see the title:

Subject: Your Commission For [Guided Masturbation Audio - 30 minute session]

Immediately, you freeze.

Surely, this is a spam email that’s somehow made it through the cracks. Because you definitely haven’t ordered such a thing.

Yet, despite your doubts at the validity of the email, you still click on it—wanting to read the contents before banishing it to your spam folder.

Dear Recipient,

Attached to this email is an mp3 file available for you to download. This file was requested and paid for by “Fox and Witch”, and is being sent to you directly at their request.

Please do not distribute this anywhere else on social media, as this is my copyrighted content.

If there is any issue with the quality of the file, please let me know.

Have fun.

-Hat Guy

Note:

Toys Needed = Dildo, Clitoral Vibrator or Wand

…you must have knocked your head on something earlier and are currently hallucinating.

Because there is NO WAY there’s an email from HAT GUY in your inbox. And that said email is for…for…

Well, you remember seeing a link on his profile about commissions, but you’d never clicked on it to see more than that. There’s no chance he’s out here telling people how to get off, though, right…?

With a warm face, you scan the email again. And then a third time.

You can only assume “Fox and Witch” are Yae and Lisa. And you did just tell them that you like Hat Guy’s content…

You bite your lip, staring at the mp3 file. 

There’s just no way…

Hesitantly, you click on it.

“Hmph. You must be really desperate if your friends were willing to pay for a half hour of my time. Most people are satisfied with 10-15 minutes, but no…they knew you’d need longer than that.”

Oh…fuck. 

Something in your tummy flips.

That’s him, alright.

You’ve never heard him talk like that before, but it’s definitely him…you could never mistake that haughty, belittling tone.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, your gaze once again finding the title of the email.

Guided Masturbation.

If you’re not wrong, that means if you hit play, and keep listening, it’ll probably be a lot of Hat Guy telling you what to do…how to touch yourself.

Just thinking about such a thing makes more blood rush to your head—embarrassment blooming in your chest.

Sure, the idea of him bossing you around isn’t exactly unappealing. You’re sure he’d be…less than nice, and maybe even a little sadistic, and perhaps call you a few rude names, but—

You groan and place your phone face down on the table beside you.

“Nope, I can’t—I—”

Standing up from your couch, you trudge into your kitchen.

It’s dinner time—you need to make dinner.

You try to keep your thoughts from straying to your temporarily abandoned phone, and the email that’s sitting in your inbox—but it’s literally impossible.

Still, you manage to cook yourself a meal, and even partake in a little alcoholic drink. (Just because you’re treating yourself, and definitely not because you want to ease your nerves a bit.)

Once you’ve finished eating, you clean all your dishes, and then return to the couch. Your gaze strays to your phone, but you don’t pick it up—instead deciding to grab the TV remote.

You make it approximately 25 minutes into a movie before you can’t take it anymore.

Hitting the pause button, you throw the remote on the couch beside you and then snatch up your phone—alighting from the couch.

You grab your headphones on the way to your bedroom, and pop them into your ears only after you’ve gathered your dildo and vibrator.

Maybe this audio won’t be as hot as you’re assuming, and you’ll end up not wanting to touch yourself, but…better to have everything prepared just in case, right?

Taking a deep breath, you hit play.

The track restarts from the beginning. 

“Hmph. You must be really desperate if your friends were willing to pay for a half hour of my time. Most people are satisfied with 10-15 minutes, but no…they knew you’d need longer than that.”

“I also hear you’re quite the little masochist—but I could have assumed that, considering it’s me that you’re soaking your panties over. Just another slut who wants to be bullied, huh.”

You huff at his words, glaring at your phone screen. 

Did Lisa and Yae tell him your kinks or something?? Those bitches.

“Well, you’re in luck, because from this moment on, you’re going to follow my directions. I’d say “if you fail to, you’ll be punished” but we both know you’re probably just another people pleaser who will do whatever I say, as long as you know it will make me happy.”

Dammit, why is he right—

“But fair warning—I won’t be happy until you’re so fucked out you can’t speak a coherent word.”

With a shaking finger, you pause the audio.

You hate to admit it, but his words—the way he’s speaking to you—is already making you wet. 

You really, truly want him to bully you, and use you like a little toy.

So, guess that means you’re doing this.

Throwing any caution and shame to the wind, you hit the play button again. 

“Now…where to begin? I always like to start with an inspection. Take off your clothes, but leave your panties on. I’m not going to bid your needy pussy any attention just yet.”

You obediently do as he says, stripping yourself of your clothing until you’re left only in your panties.

“It’s unfortunate I’m not there to survey those titties in person, so you’ll just have to feel them up for me. Go ahead and grope yourself. Take a minute and massage your chest…I want to see if you’ll get wet from that alone. Although, you’re probably wet already just from my voice, aren’t you, slut?”

You click your tongue at that last part, (hating that he’s right), but nonetheless bring your hands to your chest. 

You cup your titties, and begin squeezing them—feeling the soft flesh beneath your fingers. 

“Good, keep going—squeeze a little harder now. Ah…I bet your nipples want to be touched, huh? Start teasing them, then—just enough to get them hard. I’ll give you 10 seconds—that should be enough.”

For some reason, the challenge of accomplishing a task within a certain time limit makes your pussy throb, and very quickly, you move your pointer fingers over your nipples—rubbing them lightly, and coaxing them to a peak. 

You’re ashamed to admit it, but they manage to get hard in the 10 second pause he gives you…

“Wow, look at that…what greedy titties you have—responding as I say, eager to be played with. Pinch your nipples and roll them between your fingers. Find the motion that feels best, and do it over and over again, until I tell you to stop.”

Resting your breasts in your palms, you pinch your nipples between your fingers—rolling and tugging them. 

Your eyes flutter shut as you touch yourself, each purposeful little tweak of your nipples causing your spine to twitch, and your pussy to clench.

It’s been too long since you’ve touched yourself like this…

By the time Hat Guy’s voice fills your ears once more, your nipples have started to get sore.

“Okay, stop there. I bet your cunt has started quivering, but I hope you know it’ll still be a while before I give you the chance to cum…unless, you somehow managed to orgasm from playing with just your titties? If that’s the case, congratulations! You’re the most needy and pathetic whore I’ve played with. So pathetic that I’ll give you a pass, and won’t even punish you for cumming without permission.”

The thought of being able to cum from nipple play alone makes you feel even more aroused, much to your chagrin—

“Now, let’s inspect that dirty pussy of yours. Spread your legs, and pull your panties down to your knees. I want you to stare at the crotch of your panties and feel ashamed at the wet spot I know is there.”

Taking a deep breath, you hook your fingers around your panties and tug them down your thighs.

As you spread your feet apart, you end up staring at the crotch of your panties—your lips pressing together when you notice there is, indeed, a very noticeable wet spot.

“Next, bend over. As low as you can go, with your legs still apart. I want to see everything.”

Locking your fingers together, you hesitate for a brief second before you bend over—feeling a strain in your leg muscles as you hit the point where you can’t bend anymore.

In this position, you know that you’re on full display.

“Look at you, presenting yourself to me…you really don’t have any shame, do you? If I were there, I’d be grabbing you and forcing you open wider, but since I’m not, you can do it for me! Grab your ass cheeks with both hands, and spread.”

Breathing a little shakily, you do your best to reach behind you and spread yourself. You feel your asshole clench as you do so, and the involuntary action maddens you, considering Hat Guy’s next words are—

“Such a tight little hole…I bet it’s twitching.” 

“Is it nervous, or hoping for an intrusion? Either way, anal is not the objective of today’s session, so let’s move back to your pussy. Go ahead and spread your folds with your hand. You have permission to bend over with your chest to your bed, if you feel your blood rushing to your head from bending down so low. And if you're not by your bed…where the fuck are you listening to this audio? In your car, or a bathroom stall? Pervert.”

That little quip at the end makes you smile, even as you stand up and move yourself to your bed.

You find it a little endearing how he’s bossing you around, but still managing to be somewhat considerate. You suppose maybe there is more to him than just being a brat on the internet.

Anyway—

Reaching one hand back between your legs, you slide your fingers between the folds of your pussy and spread them—opening yourself up as if he were there to inspect you.

“Now, rub your fingers at your entrance—feel how slick you’ve gotten…honestly, you should feel ashamed. Getting so wet for a no-face internet stranger.”

Sure, your panties were a little wet, but that doesn’t mean—

You move your fingers to your entrance—freezing at the amount of sticky arousal you feel. 

You...honestly can’t remember the last time you’ve gotten this wet.

“Smear the slick around your pussy, and make sure to get your clit. That’s where we’re headed next.”

You do as he says, perhaps a smidge overly excited that you now seem to be entering the main course.

As your fingers ghost over your clit, your pussy shudders.

“Bet you just clenched in excitement, huh?”

How does he fucking know—?!

“I'll be nice and will let you use two fingers. Press the pads of your fingers to your clit, and start making circular motions. Slow. 1…2…3…just like that.”

Breathing deep, you begin rubbing your clit with your fingers—repeating his count in your head, and following his pace. 

With each pass of your fingers, your walls squeeze tighter.

“You probably want to rush, or grind your hips on your fingers…but you shouldn't be acting so desperate just yet, so be a good girl and keep going.”

Huffing, you obey his command,

He goes silent for a few beats, really giving you a minute to continue hopelessly teasing yourself. 

By the time he next speaks, a needy exhale is leaving your lips—heady arousal truly being to pool in your lower tummy.

“Now you can go faster. Rub your clit to the beat of your heart. I assume it's racing, so you should be moving your hand a bit faster than before.”

You haven’t really noticed before now, but your heart is certainly beating much faster than normal…

The steady, yet swift thump of your heart is felt throughout your body the more you focus on it, and you quickly adjust your pace. 

A breathy little sigh leaves your lips—your brows pinching together.

You want to cum. 

“I wonder if you're close already, just from your fingers on your clit…haha. If you are, remember—you don't get to cum until I say so. So if you're close to cumming, edge yourself. Get right to the edge of your orgasm, and then stop. I'll give you 10 seconds after that to collect yourself, but then you have to keep going.”

Oh, fuck…

You suppose you should have realized that edging might be part of the equation, especially during a 30 minute session.

And, unfortunately, the thought of edging yourself for him makes you even hornier—pushing you closer to your first climax—or, well, edge.

“I bet you're probably thinking that 10 seconds isn't very long…that when you start again, you'll still be right at the brink of your orgasm, and will have to keep edging over, and over…hah, well…that's your own fault for being so hopeless.”

“Now, I'll let you set the pace. Find the rhythm and motion against your clit that makes you feel the best…you're going to keep that up for 1 minute—and remember, no cumming.”

Dammit—

By now, your lips are fully parted—quick little breaths fanning in front of your face and warming the sheets of your mattress.

You don’t want to edge, you want to cum, but he won’t let you—

“Also, why don't you go ahead and count aloud? I assume you're in private, so it shouldn't be an issue to let out your voice. And if you're not, well…I guess people will get to hear what a debauched whore you are.”

If this were 10 minutes ago, you’d surely blush and hesitate to follow his command.

But now…now you’re a little closer to being the debauched whore he’s calling you.

“I'll count with you so you don't rush it. 60…59…58…57—”

With headphones in, you hear your own voice in your head—mingling with his. 

His, unwavering, with a hint of mockery. Yours…quiet, and struggling to stay on beat.

You clit throbs beneath your fingers, and there’s a familiar flutter of your walls, despite your pussy currently being empty. 

You’re getting close. 

“I can only imagine how sinful you look right now…oh, right. Where was I? Hmm…let's just pick up from 30.”

Motherfucker—

You let your face drop into your sheets, your thighs tightening and knees shaking.

Fuck, you wanna cum. You know you can’t—know it’s not allowed yet, but—!

“5…4…3…2…1. Stop moving your hand.”

Perfect timing. Right at the edge of an orgasm—you pull your hand away.

You take a second to try and catch your breath while ignoring the unfulfilled ache between your legs.

“Your pussy must be throbbing, huh? Lucky for you, as your benevolent master, I’ll let you stuff it full. Grab your dildo and get on your bed on your knees.”

“Also, I assume you're soaked by now, but if not, and you need additional lubrication, use lube.”

You glance behind you at your dresser, where your bottle of lube sits, but ultimately don’t grab it. 

By now, you’re sure you can do without.

Grabbing your dildo, you climb onto your bed, and obediently get on your knees.

“Now, sit up and position the dildo beneath you. Rub the head between your folds, and then settle it at your entrance.”

You do as he says—a shiver of excitement raking up your spine as the tip of your dildo unexpectedly flicks against your clit while you get it into position.

“I'm going to give you 3 seconds to take it fully inside of you…What? I did say we'll be stuffing you full, and with how needy you clearly are, I figured I'm doing you a favor by letting you take it all in!”

Oh. That’s—

“So, I'll count to three. Oh, and if your dildo is too big, and you're scared to sink down onto it all at once, well…that's your own fault for biting off more than you can chew. But, I'm sure that greedy pussy will take anything it can get.”

It will.

“Ready?”

You take a trembling breath.

“3, 2, 1—!”

In one swift motion, you spread your thighs and sink down onto the dildo.

When the head bumps against the deepest part of you, you can’t help but gasp—the sound positively lewd.

“Ahhh…fuck. You made a cute sound, didn't you? How precious…now you're stuffed to the brim with dick, as you should be.”

Yes, this is exactly how you’re meant to feel…just a little slut who will do anything to cum for him.

Yet, despite his harsh instructions, he seems to pause for a second, giving you a chance to acclimate to the intrusion.

How cute.

“Why don't we start slow…I want you to lift your hips until just the tip of the dildo is inside of you, and then grind back down on it. Up…and down…up—”

To aid in the motion, you place your hands flat on the mattress in front of you, and then begin moving your hips.

Up…and down…

Your walls clench around the dildo, practically begging for more, but the man currently using you as his personal toy clearly isn’t inclined to give you such a thing.

At least, not immediately.

If you had to guess, he makes you continue at this slow, teasing pace for at least 2 minutes—your muscles beginning to strain as you resist going any faster.

Then, his voice fills your ears once again. You nearly sigh with relief.

“I hope your thighs aren't burning yet, because now we're going to pick up the pace. Imagine the gallop of a horse's hooves. I want you to grind on each downbeat. No need to make big motions—just grind on your dildo how you'd grind your pussy on my cock if I was there.”

If he were here, you’d wanna grind on his dick until he’s moaning louder than you are—

“Fuck…”

Fingers curling into the sheets, you find your new rhythm—the sound of your wet pussy beginning to fill the quiet room outside your headphones.

Sweat starts to bead on your brow—the arousal inside of you searing hotter, and your muscles getting tighter.

“I wonder if you can cum from internal stimulation alone…try to find your g-spot if you haven't already. I want you to bully it with your dildo.”

You can practically hear the grin in his words. 

Repositioning yourself, you find the angle that better allows you to rub that sensitive little spot inside you.

Almost immediately, a whine rips from your throat.

“Now…I'm going to issue you a challenge. I'll count down from 60 seconds again. During that 60 seconds, you're free to cum. So try your best, okay, slut?”

Please, you want to cum, but you don’t know if 60 seconds will be enough—

“60…59…58…”

Dammit—

With his challenge invigorating you, you continue messily grinding your hips.

Each pass of your dildo against your g-spot causes your pussy to shiver, and your thighs to shake—your orgasm creeping closer.

“33…32…31…”

A desperate sound slips past your lips, your eyebrows knitting together.

You want to cum.

You want to cum.

You want to cum, but—

You drop down onto your dildo roughly, almost in a pouting manner.

You need more time.

As soon as your climax finally begins to build—your walls clenching down on your dildo—Hat Guy reaches the end of his countdown.

“3…2…1…so…did you cum? Either way, I'm sure your legs are shaking. I wouldn't doubt that your sheets are getting soiled by your arousal, either.”

“Well, whether you came or not, don't worry—there's still more opportunities to orgasm yet to come! That being said, set your dildo to the side, and grab your vibrator instead.”

Exhaling, you manage to lift up your hips, and your dildo slips out of you. 

It flops onto your sheets, glistening with your arousal.

Your pussy mourns the loss.

Setting your dildo to the side, you grab your vibrator instead.

“You can go ahead and lay on your back. I'll give your knees a break…isn't that nice of me? You should say “thank you”.”

You clench your jaw as you roll onto your back, your eyes squinting at the ceiling.

There’s no way he’s serious, right? Counting is one thing, but thanking someone who isn’t here?

“Huh? Did you think that was just a suggestion? Go on.”

You wet your lips with your tongue.

“...thank you.”

There’s a brief second of silence, and then—

“...pfft, hahaha! If you actually did just say it aloud, you're more of an obedient people pleaser than I thought. What a precious little cock-sleeve.”

You want to punch him—

“Anyway, I haven't let you cum from your clit yet. I bet by now it's engorged and begging for attention…go ahead and put your vibrator on your clit. Turn it on low.”

The fact that even just touching your clit causes you to jolt proves that his words are correct.

Hitting the power button, you turn your vibrator on a low setting, and almost instantly—the orgasm that had started to fade away flares back to life.

“Good…I'll let you keep it there for a little while. Actually…I'm gonna go get some water. God knows how upset you'd be if my voice suddenly gave out and I couldn't give you permission to cum—”

You hear the sound of a chair being alighted from, and footsteps padding away from the mic.

“This little motherfucker—,” you pant, your chest heaving. 

You gently rub your vibrator around your clit—hoping that doing so will help you delay the orgasm that’s building—but it’s impossible to avoid.

After another minute, you can’t put it off any longer.

Your body tenses, your pussy tightening, and—

You tear the vibrator away from your clit.

If he were here, you think you’d honestly start to beg him for mercy. Of course, you’re sure he’d say that’s practically your first true edge, and you’re just being a little baby, but still.

You start the countdown from 10 in your head, and once it’s done, put your vibrator back on your clit.

Your entire body jolts as the pleasure that had been denied snaps back to attention.

You’re gonna have to edge again—

“How are you holding out? Did you edge at all—just from the vibrator being on low? At the very least, I bet you're squirming and panting.”

“Now, listen closely. I'm going to make you an offer.”

If his offer involves you cumming, you’ll do whatever it takes.

“I'm going to let you cum with the vibrator still on low—assuming you can. This time I'll be generous and will give you 90 seconds, even. But here's the catch. At the end of this session, you will be cumming. So if your begging cunt blots out any logic in your brain, and you decide to cum now, and then feel it's “too much” later, well. That'll be your own fault. Even if you're overstimulated, you'll be cumming again, so choose wisely.”

“Either way, you need to keep the vibrator on your clit for another 90 seconds. You just need to decide if you're cumming or edging. Get ready. To spice it up, this time I'm not counting aloud—I'll just tell you when to stop. So if you're planning on cumming, try not to waste any time. Because if I say stop and you're right there, I doubt you’ll be very happy. Now, begin.”

Risking an overstimulated orgasm after this is a dangerous game, but—

You press the vibrator harder against your clit. 

You need to cum—you don’t care about anything else right now.

Your free hand grabs at your breast—your toes curling, and your heart racing.

Your back arches off the bed, a symphony of miniscule whines and gasps falling from your lips.

Then, the tension inside of you reaches its limit, and snaps.

Your voice catches in your throat—your body spasming as waves of pleasure rock you.

You keep the vibrator on your clit to draw them out as long as you can, but after a few long beats, Hat Guy’s voice fills your ears once again. 

“Stop—that's time. So…did you cum? I wish I could see the state of you…I bet you're starting to look all fucked out. We're already at the 20 minute mark, after all.”

You can’t believe it’s already been 20 minutes. Yet, at the same time, can’t believe you’re not already closer to the end.

“Now, I did say you'd be cumming again, so why don't you go ahead and put your vibe on high? Let's try and force it out of you.”

It’s fine…it’s totally fine. 

Turning your vibrator on high will be totally fine.

You move the toy back to your clit and push the button until the vibrations are much more intense than before.

Almost immediately, heat rushes through your body—stemming from the still recovering nerve ending on your clit.

You’re over-sensitive. Fuck.

And yet…your pussy still flutters—your muscles tensing once again as another orgasm begins to build.

“Ahh, I bet you're squirming like a pathetic little worm. Is it too much? Do you want to beg me to let you stop?”

“Your toes are curling, aren't they? I wish I could hear you and see you panting like a bitch in heat. Should I throw you a bone? Would that satisfy that sad cunt of yours?”

You are writhing, and panting, and every other filthy thing he’s pegged you as. But—you don’t want to stop. You’re too far in now—your whole body shaking, and your breaths coming quick as the vibrator on your clit overwhelms you.

It’s overwhelming, but you can’t stop chasing that high. You—

“Actually…that's not a bad idea. Stop—now.”

Despite not wanting to, you immediately yank the toy away.

You hear yourself whining, unable to help it.

“Hopefully you didn't cum in the last 30 seconds. If so…whoops~”

You wish you could kick him.

“This final orgasm is going to be our grand finale, so we should really let the sparks fly. And maybe your juices, depending on how hard you cum.”

“Grab your dildo—shove it in.”

You scramble to grab it—your arm darting to the side to recover the dildo you’d discarded a short while ago. 

As soon as you have it, you spread your legs and press the head at your entrance—stuffing it in without any preamble.

A pleasant sigh leaves you as that full feeling returns.

“You're going to fuck yourself with it—however fast or slow, I don't care. And at the same time, turn your vibrator back on high.”

You can tell where this is going, and you honestly think it may kill you, but you follow his instructions nonetheless.

Turning the vibrator on high, you place it back on your clit and then begin fucking yourself with the dildo. 

Almost immediately, involuntary sounds slip out of you—your body writhing against the sheets.

The overwhelming strength of your vibrator on your clit now partnered with the messy rubbing of your dildo between your walls…you’re truly becoming the mess he promised to make you.

“Oh, and just so things don't end too soon, you need to hold out for at least one minute. I'll let you know once you have permission to cum.”

You hardly think it’s fair that he’s saying this now, considering you’ve already started fucking yourself, but even so, you want to listen—want to be a good girl who does what he says, and only cums when permitted.

Holding out for a whole minute when your cunt is already starting to spasm—your clit feeling like it’s on fire—is certainly going to be a challenge, though.

“You know…I bet if this were a live call, I'd be able to hear how wet your pussy is. You're probably gripping onto that dildo so tightly…as if it's a real cock that you're begging to properly breed you.”

If he were here you wonder how he’d fuck you. Certainly hard enough that you’d be able to hear the slap of his balls against your pussy—

“You must be panting, huh? So ready to cum…I wonder if you’d be obedient enough to cum when I say. Why don’t we try? We’re getting close to a minute, after all.”

Oh, fuck. 

You’ve never cum on command before, but you want to for him.

“C’mon, princess, I know you can do it…keep going…get yourself right there—”

Your chest shudders, and tears blot your eyes.

You’re trying. Everything feels so hot. 

The arousal in your tummy swells—tightening up, and searing your insides.

“Cum.”

A sob rips from your chest, and you grind your dildo against your g-spot one final time, before your body obeys, and releases.

With the vibrator on high, this orgasm is much more intense than the last. 

Your breath catches, your spine curving, and your hand releases the dildo in favor of grabbing onto your sheets for dear life.

Despite the clamping of your pussy around the silicone cock, it still manages to slip out of you after a few seconds—flopping onto your mattress, and poking wetly against your ass.

When the pleasure on your clit starts to turn to pain—you finally tear the vibrator away. You turn it off, and weakly discard it onto the bed beside you.

Despite no longer having any toys in or on you, your cunt and clit continue to twitch with aftershocks.

You take a deep breath. 

Hat Guy is still talking in your ears, but your brain is too scrambled to process what he’s saying. So, you just continue to lay there until his words sound more like words again.

“Alright, you must have cum by now. Take a minute to breathe. And when you’re done catching your breath, make sure you get up and go pee, and then get some water. Because I’m not about to be liable for any after-effects of this session.”

Despite being exhausted, you can’t help but quietly laugh.

“Good job making it through. I’m sure we’ll meet again soon…mostly because I’m sure you’ll be opening this file again to get off to, haha.”

“Later~”

The audio ends.

You lay there, staring at the ceiling.

Then, you roll onto your side, slowly get up, and head for the bathroom.

Can’t let Hat Guy be liable for you, after all.

The following morning, you wake up with sore muscles, and a determination to go and beat up Yae Miko and Lisa Minci about their “gift”.

Yeah, maybe you are a little less tense than before, and the stress that had been clinging to you after the end of the previous semester is now gone, but still. They deserve a good scolding.

First, however, you have to go to your 9AM lecture. After that, you’ll have time to run to the library.

Despite the soreness in your thighs, you manage to trek across campus and make it to your class with time to spare. You chose a seat somewhere in the middle, and then set your bag down in the chair beside you.

With nothing to work on yet, considering today’s the first day, you entertain yourself with social media apps on your phone as the lecture hall slowly continues filling up.

When there’s only a minute left before the class is set to start, there’s a tap on your shoulder.

Startled, realizing they’ve probably been trying to get your attention, you immediately take out one of your headphones. Before you can even turn to face them and apologize, they’re talking.

Except…the voice of the person beside you is…eerily familiar. Scratchy, attractive, and perhaps a little annoyed—

“Do you mind moving your bag? There aren’t very many seats left.”

Without saying a word, too stunned to speak, you reach over and move your bag to the floor at your feet. The man grunts, and takes a seat beside you.

As he pulls out his laptop, you finally build up the courage to look at him. 

Dark hair and eyes to match…slim fingers, but veiny hands…a black shirt and oversized jacket—

“Do you need something?”

Oh, fuck—you’ve been openly staring.

Your eyes meet his for the first time, and you open your mouth, but no words come out. The beat of your heart starts to get faster.

He cocks an unimpressed eyebrow at you.

“What? Cat got your tongue?”

This is just too much—there’s no fucking way this is happening—

Unfortunately, before you can finally pull it together and try to redeem yourself, your professor takes the podium at the head of the room.

“Class! Welcome! While it might be a little unconventional to start the semester out on this note, I just want you all to know in advance: this class will heavily rely on cooperation with others. There will be many team projects. In fact—the person you’re sharing a table with will be your project partner for the whole semester!”

…what.

Beside you, the man sighs—clearly unhappy to hear about there being group projects, or you being his partner, or both.

“Great, looks like we’re stuck together.”

“Yep…,” you mumble in response, the first word you’ve managed to speak since his arrival.

He obviously notices, because his lips pull into a teasing little grin, his eyes remaining trained on your still-speaking professor as he whisper—

“Oh, would you look at that? She speaks.”

Your pussy clenches.

Mhmm, yep! 

You’re gonna go jump off a bridge.

[aphel1on]

the longer i look at this panel the more deranged i feel about it. this is environmental storytelling at its finest.

the eodio stand-in doll in particular makes me crazy. where did it come from? did thistle just pop into the village like "hey ungrateful wretches, one of you needs to make me a life-sized mannequin, For Reasons". did he make it himself? seems quite unlikely, yet the possibility haunts me. i mean, i guess there could've been one just lying around the dungeon somewhere. it's the act of replacement itself that really gets to me. (edit: it's been pointed out to me that the eodio doll also could have been left behind as part of delgal's escape plan. slightly different kind of madness but tbh, just as funny-sad to me if that happened and thistle went Ok, Guess That's Eodio Now.)

both the wives are there too. we know very little about them, which makes me tend to assume thistle wasn't all that close to them, but they're still included. when did they end up here? did he kick their souls out of their bodies at some point, or were they among those who left their bodies voluntarily to try and escape? when did yaad become an effective orphan, delgal an effective widower? women in the margins of the narrative, tell me your stories!

and the fact that they're surrounded with the living paintings, which thistle habitually wanders through to relive the past. this truly is his inner sanctum, his place of utmost comfort... and it may as well be a tomb.

that panel is so creepy when you first see it. just a sense of "ohh jeez, there's a lot to unpack there".

and actually, yeah, it remains creepy from pretty much any angle, but the more you think about it the more it's also tragic.

this is where many of thistle's happiest moments took place. everything he had in that picture is now gone. first he lost their warm regard, then one-by-one their bodies became hollow shells. before the end, none of the people here needed or enjoyed food anymore. the dinner table, as a center of both family life and nutrition, became obsolete.

a line from someone else's excellent post about thistle has stuck in my head ever since i read it: "to eat is to live, but to eat together is to be loved". to me, this is the sentiment and symbolism at the core of everything that happens in dungeon meshi.

it makes this bit all the sadder and more disturbing.

there's several things to note here:

thistle has gone from seated and eating with them as part of the family, to a lonely and ominous figure hovering over delgal's shoulder

eodio is conspicuously absent from view, and his body would have been a husk by now, but yaad says parents, which forces me to assume that they are sitting at the table with eodio's soulless body, hidden under yaad's speech bubble

they're not actually eating anything.

those plates are empty. you could assume that they've already finished eating, maybe, but yaad refers to it as sitting around the dinner table. in fact, he compares it to what he's currently doing; sitting at the dinner table watching the touden party eat, not eating anything himself.

it paints a pretty grim picture. for some time even after the fantasy had fallen apart, even after there was no need or desire to eat, they kept gathering around the dinner table. at that point, i'd guess only so as not to provoke thistle's wrath.

but even that last happened a long, long time ago.

this is a callback to what senshi said in the golden kingdom: the reason the people keep maintaining their fields and silverware and so forth is that they need to do so in order to stay sane.

paradoxically, the dinner table is the most striking evidence of thistle's insanity, and at the same time, it's the only anchor to sanity he has left.

he kept enforcing the ritual of dinner together long after it lost significance. when even that was impossible- because almost everyone's souls were gone- he kept their bodies at the table anyway. it's fine. it's fine! he's protected them, physically, just like he set out to. they're all still breathing. at a glance it looks like they could wake up and resume dinner at any moment. like this, it's easy to pretend.

isn't that what being a dungeon lord is, at the core of it? rejecting reality, staying in the prison of one's impossible desires. it's just one long game of pretend.

thistle did all this to protect his loved ones. no matter how obsessive and twisted he became in pursuit of that over the years, his core motivation never changed. this is all he has left of that dream: his loved ones' bodies gathered around the locus of their happiest memories together. like this, he can tell himself he's succeeded.

when eodio's body vanished with delgal's soul in it- when he couldn't even have that anymore... well.

i want to reach through the screen and shake him. no, they're not, thistle. THISTLE, NO, THEY'RE NOT! the doll of eodio is the closest thing to him in this panel, underlining the point. when that final illusion was shattered, he became completely unable to cope with reality.

therefore casually forgetting the creepy eodio doll isn't real.

thistle isn't stupid. eodio's body vanished at the same time as delgal's soul. shortly after, more adventurers came pouring in than ever before. deep down, he knows what happened. if he didn't, being confronted with the truth by mithrun wouldn't have made him panic so hard he summoned chimera falin to the first floor.

yet still...

he absolutely can't admit that to himself. he is clinging to the last scraps of the illusion with everything he has.

this is a dungeon lord at the end of desire. this is a lotus-eater machine left running long after its conclusion. this is mithrun lying listlessly in his bed, his replica lover having given up any pretense of being human. the illusion is all that's left. (an illusion is all it ever was.) thistle and the citizens of the golden kingdom- they're ghosts just as much as the ones who wander the dungeon floors. and if it weren't for thistle sealing the lion away, he would've been eaten by it long ago.

all of this encapsulated by that single panel of the dinner table.

[lizzyiii]

I LOVE THE DRAGONS TREASURE

Please tell me she claims a dragon

Uhhhh, well why don't you read and see...

The Dragon's Treasure (2)

pairing | young aemond targaryen x niece!reader

word count | 8.5k words

summary | ‘You leaned into the Queen’s side, the comforting warmth of her presence allowing fresh sobs to escape. All you could think was how it felt to be given away by your mother, as confusion and sorrow swirled in your heart like a storm.’

tags | ANGST, ANGST AND MORE ANGST, targaryen incest, reader is described to have silver hair and lilac eyes, depression, suicidal thoughts, as always reader is a sensitive queen 👑, reader really goes through it

a/n | I'm SO SORRY this took so long. Also I couldn't put everything in here or else it could've been like 15k words, so guess whatttt, there will now be A PART 3, which will be the final part of this which WILL have a HAPPY ENDING. Anyway enjoy

likes, comments, reblogs are always appreciated ✨

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 1 is 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 — 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 3

Laenor’s frustration hung heavily in the air, a palpable tension that seemed to reach out and envelop the room. "How could you do this, Rhaenyra?" he hissed, his voice a mix of anger and disbelief. He paced across the chamber, the sound of his boots echoing against the stone walls.

Rhaenyra, seated beside you as you lay asleep, cast her gaze downward, her expression shadowed by shame. Her injured arm was pressed tightly against her chest, while her other hand delicately brushed aside the strands of hair that fell across your serene face.

"It was the only way to preserve the fragile peace, Laenor," she replied softly, her voice barely a whisper, yet heavy with sorrow as she focused on you.

Laenor’s frustration erupted once more as he countered, "By giving away our daughter?" His tone was hushed, yet the anguish etched across his features spoke volumes.

"And what do you call your intention to abandon her?" Rhaenyra's retort was fierce, her eyes flashing with a mix of defiance and hurt.

Laenor's gaze dropped, shame washing over him. He clenched his jaw, the weight of truth too heavy to bear. It was true—after much debate with Rhaenyra and Daemon, the decision had been made to stage his own death, allowing him the chance to flee with Qarl. The thought churned within him like a storm. "You should’ve spoken to me first," he murmured at last, his voice softer, tinged with the ache of sorrow.

"Mother," your weak voice echoed in the chamber, silencing the hushed argument between your parents.

A sharp pain throbbed in your head, the remnants of a distant ringing lingering like a ghost. With great effort, you began to sit up, but your mother gently urged you back, her voice soothing yet urgent, "My love, settle back. Do not strain yourself."

The world around you remained a blur as you blinked, trying to shake off the fog that clouded your mind. "What—what happened?" you managed to ask, your voice soft and uncertain.

Your gaze wandered to the window, where the soft light of dawn poured in, painting the room in warm hues. "What is the last thing you remember, my sweet?" your father asked from your other side, concern etched upon his features. You turned to him, puzzled, noticing the deep worry in his eyes.

Closing your eyes, you grasped at the fragments of the night that felt just out of reach. "Jace woke me, and then—there was a fight," you stammered, urgency clawing at your chest as you opened your eyes wide. "Is everyone alright? Is Aemond alright?"

Your mother’s lips pressed together as she exchanged a troubled glance with your father. "Your brothers and cousins are fine," she began carefully, "but… Aemond lost his eye."

Your heart plummeted at her words, and tears brimmed in your lilac eyes as memories flickered like a dim flame. "Luke?" you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

“Yes,” your mother whispered gently, searching your eyes with a steady resolve, “but he only acted to protect Jace from Aemond.”

“No,” you breathed out, shaking your head in denial, desperation threading through your voice, “Aemond would never truly hurt Jace.”

“But it’s alright,” Rhaenyra interjected, dismissing your words with an air of resignation. “Aemond said that Vhagar was worth the sacrifice.”

Worth the sacrifice? You struggled to comprehend how anything could justify the loss of an eye. A deep longing stirred within you to see Aemond, to confirm that he was truly alright. Your gaze flitted anxiously between your mother and father before the memory of the loud commotion that had pulled you from your sleep surged back. “Why were you and Father fighting?”

Your father arched an eyebrow, turning his attention to your mother with an air of expectation, “Well, Rhaenyra?”

Your mother offered a strained smile, her hand gently brushing your cheek as if to shield you from any remaining tension in the air. “To ensure peace between our families, the Queen and I have decided to betroth you to Aemond. You will wed when you turn seven and ten. But do not fret, dear one; you and Aemond are the closest of friends.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but your father’s sharp voice cut through the air. “Rhaenyra, tell her the rest.”

With a small sigh, your mother looked away, a shadow passing over her face. “During your betrothal, the Queen insists you stay in the Red Keep.”

Feelings swirled within you at the thought of being promised to Aemond. Yes, he was your dear friend, but never had you envisioned him as your husband. As memories of the past returned—those cruel words Aemond had hurled at your cousins and brothers—you felt a knot form in your stomach. Yet, a flutter of hope ignited in your heart as you looked up at your mother. “Does that mean we’re going home?”

Your mother’s eyes widened, confusion washing over you as you noticed tears pooling within them. “No, my treasure,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “We shall remain in Dragonstone while you live in King’s Landing.”

The air seemed to thicken around you, and your heart felt like it had cracked open at her words. "What?" You clutched her tightly, burying your face against her soft dress, your voice muffled as you pleaded, "I don’t want to be away from you."

“It will be alright,” Rhaenyra whispered gently, pressing her lips to your brow. “We will write letters every day, and you will come visit us at Dragonstone.” You could hear the tremble in her voice, even as she held you close, tears started to shimmer in Rhaenyra’s eyes, her heart aching as she cradled you in her arms, trying to soothe both your sorrow and her own. “All will be well, I promise.”

It was the only path left before her. By sending you to the Greens, she hoped to weave a thread of peace, to quiet their unrest, and when the time was right, she would reclaim you from their grasp.

You pulled back, your little nose pink and tear-streaked cheeks glistening with sorrow as your gaze fell upon her injured hand. “What happened to your hand?” you asked, concern etched across your cherubic face.

Rhaenyra fought back the urge to weep at your innocent worry. Even through your own heartbreak, you were thinking of her. She offered you the best smile she could muster, brushing a thumb softly against your cheek as she kissed your forehead. “It’s naught to trouble yourself over, my love.”

Her eyes drifted toward Laenor, who stood nearby, his face a mask of despair as he looked down at you.

"I do not wish to leave, please, Father, do not make me go," you whimpered softly, clutching at him as he carried you toward the Driftmark courtyard, where a carriage awaited to take you away. You had heard that Helaena, Aegon, and Aemond had already set sail on a ship, so you would be accompanying the Queen.

"I trust your mother’s wisdom," his voice was gentle. "You know that I love you, don't you?"

You nodded quietly, burying your face into the comforting crook of his neck, seeking solace from the storm brewing in your heart. Laenor paused, his hands steadying you as he whispered, "Look at me, my sweet. I've come to a most profound realization."

With a flicker of curiosity, you lifted your head, your sad lilac eyes searching his face, "What is it?"

He regarded you with a deep, thoughtful gaze for a moment before speaking, "That nothing and no one shall ever hold my heart as you do." He leaned closer and pressed a tender kiss upon your nose, a gesture meant to seal the words in a bond of love, "You are and will always be my greatest love."

At his declaration, your lips quivered, and hastily you retreated into the comforting warmth of his embrace, hiding your face against him once more.

You felt him exhale softly, the sound laced with an emotion you could not name, before he asked with a quiet sincerity, "Do you wish for my happiness?"

"More than anything, Father," you replied without hesitance, your voice a whisper wrapped in sincerity.

With your head nestled against him, you were unaware of the tears that brimmed in his eyes. He brushed his lips gently across your brow, murmuring softly, "Good, that’s good.

As you and your father finally stepped into the sunlit courtyard, you turned your gaze to take in the bustling crowd.

Your cousins, Baela and Rhaena, stood close by, flanked by your grandparents, Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys. A frown crossed your face as you spotted your great uncle Daemon standing beside your brothers and mother too close for your liking. Opposite them, before the grand carriage, stood Queen Alicent, her expression poised as she appeared to await your arrival.

With a gentle motion, your father set you down before your mother. As you looked up, you noticed Jace and Luke actively avoiding your eyes, their faces averted. Your mother knelt before you, her hands tenderly cradling your cheeks. "Do not fret, my sweet treasure. We shall be together again soon."

At her comforting words, fresh tears welled in your lilac eyes as you suddenly launched yourself into her embrace, clinging to her waist and burying your face in the soft fabric of her skirts. "I don’t want to go!" you cried out, your voice breaking.

Your small hands tightened around her skirts as you felt your father’s gentle persistence in trying to pry you away from your mother, and you protested fiercely, "No, I won’t go! You can’t make me!"

Your mother, her heart heavy with sorrow, cupped your cheeks in her hands, trying to soothe your tempest of emotions. “Hush, my love,” she whispered, her voice a tender balm against your distress.

Around you, pitying gazes flickered like candle flames—your grandparents’ melancholic expressions, your cousins’ shared discomfort. Jace’s eyes glimmered with unshed tears while Luke, overwhelmed, covered his ears, trying to drown out your wails. Rhaenyra felt a crack in her resolve as she listened to your sobs, contemplating possibly halting your betrothal. But then, a steady touch on her shoulder drew her attention. It was Daemon, giving her a firm nod, a silent promise of encouragement.

Steeling herself, Rhaenyra placed her hands over your tiny fists, carefully prying you away from her gown. She lifted your small face to meet her gaze, her voice steady despite the turmoil within her. “You must perform your duty to the crown,” she said firmly, the weight of her words grounding her as she continued, “You are a princess now—act like it.” Each word felt like a dagger to her own heart, yet she managed to keep her voice steady, unwilling to let her emotions betray her in front of the others.

You looked up at her, your large, glistening eyes begging for understanding as you bit down on your lip, desperate to stifle your cries. It was then that you felt a soft hand on your shoulder and you saw your mother’s once-kind eyes harden and her lips set into a determined line.

Behind you, Queen Alicent's voice rang out with gentle authority, “Do not worry, sweet princess. We shall take good care of you.”

With one last lingering gaze at your mother, you allowed the Queen to lead you away. As you settled into the carriage alongside her and your grandsire, the weight of your sadness enveloped you once more. You leaned into the Queen’s side, the comforting warmth of her presence allowing fresh sobs to escape. All you could think was how it felt to be given away by your mother, as confusion and sorrow swirled in your heart like a storm.

Aemond's heart was heavy with worry. No, it wasn’t just worry—it was a deep, gnawing distress that coiled in his chest like a serpent.

The thrill of claiming Vhagar had filled him with such joy, he had felt as if he could touch the moon itself. The moment he soared through the skies on the back of the great dragon, he had thought only of you, eager to share the monumental news. In his mind, you would have clapped your hands and laughed with delight, celebrating the bond forged between rider and beast.

But fate had other plans. Just when he imagined your bright smile lighting up the sky, your brothers and cousins had to swoop in, like crows scattering the sunlight.

He could still picture the way you had stared at him, your eyes wide, but not with excitement. No, there was something else in your gaze—hurt. Aemond’s heart twisted painfully. What did it matter that he had claimed Vhagar? Didn’t you understand? He had done it for both of you, to lift you higher, to make you proud.

And just when he thought things couldn’t get worse, the air crackled with tension. Your stupid cousin had lunged, and in that moment, everything exploded into chaos. And then much worse — his bastard nephew had struck you. It didn’t matter if it was an accident or a deliberate attack; Aemond saw only red. All he could think of was defending your honor, standing up for you. But that brave impulse led to disaster—the sharp, searing pain of loss as your bastard brother struck him down, taking his eye and leaving an aching void in its place.

The pain was unlike anything Aemond had ever known. As the sharp impact seared through him, a crimson tide flooded down his cheek, hot and frightening. For a fleeting moment, fear clawed at his insides; he truly believed he would not survive this. The world around him dimmed, distorted by the sudden absence of sight, as the maester began to stitch the ravaged flesh, one painful tug at a time. In that disorienting haze, it felt as if all the light had been extinguished, leaving him vulnerable and alone.

In the throng of shouting, his mother alone stood as his shield, her voice rising powerfully over the din. Where was the king? His father seemed indifferent, preoccupied with the whispers of bastardy that tainted his grandson's names, ignoring his son’s suffering. Aemond felt a pang of betrayal deep in his heart, a bitter realization that the bonds of blood carried chains as much as love.

But more damning still was your stillness. You lay unconscious atop a small cot, the aftermath of your collision against a stone wall. His worry for you gnawed at his mind, a relentless ache more piercing than the wound that marred his face. Around him, the fighting raged on, but all it did was intensify the throbbing where his eye had been, and in desperation, he called out, declaring that his lost eye was a worthy sacrifice for a dragon—any dragon.

Then his mother came to him, her expression conveying hope. She spoke of a betrothal, weaving a promise between the two of you like a delicate thread. In that moment, Aemond's heart swelled with a light that eclipsed the agony gripping his face.

You would be his wife; destined to stand at his side forever. It was a beautiful twist of fate meant to be, a binding forged that made him forget, at least for a heartbeat, that he was now a boy with only one eye.

But now, after a fortnight spent back in the imposing halls of the Red Keep, he still had not laid eyes on you since that fateful night in Driftmark. At first, his mother had told him you were too distraught, struggling to settle back in King’s Landing without your mother and siblings. Aemond could understand that; he knew how deeply you loved his sister, though he had no clue as to why.

Yet, days passed, and the weight of your absence grew heavier. Then, the letter arrived. A letter relaying how your father, Laenor Velaryon, had been murdered. His mother, with a grave expression, had explained that you were in no condition for visitors, grief stricken and devastated. Aemond felt a surge of frustration mixed with a pang of empathy. How could he possibly comfort you from afar?

Despite his mother’s warnings, he refused to be deterred. Each day, without fail, he ventured to your chambers, his heart pounding with hope and desperation. Each time, he was met with the same stony refusal from your sworn shield, Ser Rowan. The knight’s demeanor was unwavering, his expression a mixture of duty and pity that only fueled Aemond’s determination.

With a final, resentful glance at the shield that stood between him and you, he turned away, but not before giving your door a lingering look—his heart aching to see you, to offer even a word of solace.

That’s when a cunning idea sparked in his mind. He recalled the tales of Maegor the Cruel, who, in his paranoia, had carved secret tunnels through the very walls of the Red Keep. Perhaps, just perhaps, he could find a way in. Aemond’s pulse quickened at the thought of sneaking through those hidden passages, unseen and unnoticed, until he could finally stand before you.

He took a deep breath, his determination solidifying. No more waiting, no more barriers. He would find you, even if it meant crawling through the dark, twisting shadows of the Red Keep. You were destined to be together, and he would not allow the two of you to be apart any longer.

It had taken Aemond a full week—seven days of frustration, of feeling like a fool. He had spent those days pacing the cold stone walls of the Red Keep, touching every surface in hopes of discovering one of the fabled tunnels of Maegor the Cruel. They said the king had built secret ways throughout the castle, but Aemond had no guide, no map. Only his determination kept him searching. Then, at last, he'd found one—hidden behind a grand tapestry depicting dragons in flight.

Excitement had quickly turned to terror. Once inside the dark, winding passageways, Aemond realized he was hopelessly lost. The stone walls seemed to close in on him, their narrow confines suffocating. Hours passed before he finally stumbled out, breathless and covered in dust, into the kitchens. The sky outside had turned to night, and his stomach gnawed at him from hunger. He looked a sight—dirty, disheveled, and no closer to his goal.

The next time, he would not make the same mistake. He had prepared this time, studying the first tunnel he’d discovered and memorizing the paths it led to. He knew now how to navigate these secret ways, and his heart raced at the thought of where they might lead him.

Tonight, he sought your chambers.

Quiet as a shadow, he slipped through the concealed door in the wall, pushing it open just enough to sneak inside. His eyes darted around the room before he found a hiding place behind a tall dressing screen. From there, he could see only part of the room.

Aemond stood quietly behind the carved wooden screen, peering through the delicate patterns to catch a glimpse of his mother, Alicent. She sat beside the bed, where you were hidden beneath a heavy blanket, your figure barely visible. He strained to hear the conversation, his curiosity mingling with worry.

"You must eat, my sweet princess," Alicent's voice trembled slightly, though she tried to keep her tone soothing. Her words echoed through the chamber, filling the air with tension that made Aemond's heart tighten.

He frowned, sensing the tension in the room, the weight of his mother's concern. But you gave no answer, not even a whisper, and the silence only deepened his anxiety.

"If you do not eat," his mother continued, her voice sharper now, filled with urgency, "you will waste away. You will die."

Aemond swallowed hard. He hadn’t known it was this bad. He pressed himself closer to the screen, his young mind racing. What could he do? How could he help?

The silence finally broke, but the sound of your voice was weak, and it made Aemond's stomach churn. "I do not care," you said, the weariness in your tone hanging in the air like a shadow. Aemond frowned deeply, his heart racing. It sounded as though you hadn’t spoken in days.

"I wish to be with my father," you whispered, and Aemond felt the words like a blow. His hands clenched at his sides as his chest grew tight.

Queen Alicent gasped, her hand fluttering to her chest. "Princess..." she murmured, her voice barely above a breath.

A heavy silence lingered for a few moments, only broken by the sound of Alicent’s soft sigh. She leaned forward and gently caressed your brow, her fingers smoothing your hair with a mother’s care. "I shall return later," she said softly, though there was a hint of sadness in her tone. "Perhaps by then, you will be in better spirits."

She rose from the bed, her gown rustling softly as she turned to leave. Aemond stayed perfectly still, his breath held until his mother had exited the chamber, her footsteps fading down the corridor. Only then did he dare to move, waiting a moment longer before stepping out from behind the screen, the weight of your words still heavy on his mind.

Aemond swallowed hard, his throat tight as he stepped cautiously toward your bed. The tension in the room made the air thick, and his hands had already begun to tremble. He cleared his throat, though it did little to ease the nervousness tightening his chest. "Niece," he called softly, hoping the word might draw some warmth from you.

But you lay there, still as stone, offering him no sign that you’d heard. His heart quickened, not just from excitement but from something colder—apprehension. "It is me, Aemond," he said, trying again, this time louder, as if his voice could somehow break through the wall you had built around yourself.

"Leave," you croaked, your voice rough from disuse. The word, though weak, struck him like a lash.

Aemond’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he edged closer to your bedside despite the rejection. His heart ached at the sight of you, eyes barely open, a sliver of sharp lilac staring back at him with the irritation of a cornered animal. He swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words. "I know you are in pain—"

"Go away," you interrupted, your voice fragile, cracking under the weight of your sorrow as you pulled the covers over your head, shielding yourself from him, from the world.

Aemond stood frozen, his brow furrowing deeply, the sting of your words sharper than he expected. He clenched his fists at his sides, feeling the vulnerability he had tried so hard to bury rise to the surface. His voice was barely above a whisper as he let slip the truth he had kept locked away. "I… I’ve missed you."

Your silence stung worse than anything you could have said. Then, muffled beneath the covers, you spoke firmly, your voice laced with bitterness. "Leave me be, Aemond."

Desperation took hold of him. His face grew hot as he reached out toward the blanket that hid you, fingers trembling. "Please," he whispered, voice cracking, "just speak to me. Let me help you."

Suddenly, the covers flew back, and you sat up, your face twisted in an anger that made Aemond step back as if he had been struck. The look in your eyes—sharp, hateful—was something he had never seen before, not directed at him. "Now you wish to help?" you spat, your voice ringing through the chamber, venomous and cold. "You’ve ruined everything, Aemond."

His heart pounded painfully in his chest. "What?" He stared at you, confusion clouding his mind. What had he done?

"Because of your selfish ambitions," you snarled, your voice rising with every word, "my mother had to give me away. If it weren’t for you, I would still be with them—still be with my father!" Tears brimmed in your lilac eyes, the sight of them making his stomach churn.

Aemond felt like the floor had dropped from beneath him. How could this be his fault? He didn’t understand. "Niece—please," he whispered, but his voice sounded small and powerless, even to himself.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, and when you spoke again, the words shattered him. "I hate you, Aemond. And I will hate you for the rest of our lives." Your voice broke as the tears finally fell, streaming down your cheeks. "Now go!"

Your scream echoed through the room, and Aemond felt wetness on his own cheeks. His chest tightened, and the lump in his throat grew unbearable. He flinched as he heard your knight call for you from outside the chamber, likely drawn by your raised voice.

Breathing heavily, Aemond glanced at you one last time, your tear-streaked face seared into his mind. His body moved on instinct, turning away, his feet carrying him swiftly back toward the secret door he had come through. His heart was heavy with a pain he had never felt before, not even when he had lost his eye, and as he slipped away, the weight of your words followed him into the darkness.

Queen Alicent paced the length of her chambers, her mind in turmoil. She had never anticipated this outcome when she brought you to the Red Keep, far from Dragonstone, far from your mother, Princess Rhaenyra. She had believed that under her guidance, you would flourish. As her ward, betrothed to Aemond, your closest companion, she imagined you would grow into a graceful, dutiful princess—one who would restore the honor of House Targaryen, untarnished by the reckless whims of your mother.

In her heart, Alicent had even dared to hope that you might surpass Rhaenyra, earning the love of the people as the true 'Realm’s Delight.' But those dreams now seemed distant and foolish.

It had all gone wrong.

Alicent had grossly underestimated the bond you held with your mother, the Princess. The spirited, joyful girl she had known—the one who ran through the halls of the Red Keep with Aemond at your side—had withered before her very eyes. In mere weeks, you had become a ghost, hollow and silent, consumed by grief and loneliness. Being torn from your mother’s side, followed by the sudden news of your father’s death, had shattered something deep within you.

Alicent was powerless. She could feel the weight of her failure pressing down on her, and it terrified her. You had stopped eating, and each time she visited your chambers, the sight of you grew more distressing. Your once-cherubic face had grown gaunt, your cheeks hollow, and the dark rings under your violet eyes seemed to deepen with every passing day. The life that had once shone so brightly within you was now dim, fading with each moment that you refused to take nourishment.

In truth, Alicent no longer cared about the feud between her and Rhaenyra. She no longer saw you as a pawn in the game of succession, a princess bound to her son. All of that had crumbled in the face of her growing fear for your health. She couldn’t stand by and watch you waste away, not like this.

She had tried everything—soft words, coaxing, but nothing had worked. You remained trapped in your sorrow, unreachable, silent. Desperation clawed at her heart, and in that desperation, she did something she had not imagined she would ever do.

Alicent sat at her desk, trembling hands grasping a quill as she penned a letter to Princess Rhaenyra. She pushed aside her pride, her anger, her fear of what this might mean for the tensions between their families. None of that mattered now. Only you mattered.

“Princess Rhaenyra, your daughter is unwell,” she wrote, her heart heavy with each stroke of the pen. “I ask—no, I beg you to come to the Red Keep at once. She needs you. I fear that without her mother, she may not survive this grief. Please, come swiftly.”

The letter was sealed with wax, her hand shaking as she pressed the Targaryen sigil into it. For once, Alicent did not think of herself, nor of the coming war over the Iron Throne. She only thought of the fragile girl with lilac eyes, fading away in the chambers of the Red Keep.

"Send it," she ordered the servant, her voice tight with emotion. "Have the fastest raven dispatched to Dragonstone."

But a week had passed, and there had been no response. Alicent cursed Rhaenyra’s negligence. How could she ignore such a plea? How could she allow her own daughter to wither away in the Red Keep, as if you were some pawn to be discarded?

What Alicent did not know was that the letter had never reached Rhaenyra’s hands. No, it had fallen into the possession of Daemon Targaryen. The Rogue Prince had taken one glance at the letter and, with a smirk of indifference, tossed it into the flames of the hearth. In his eyes, you were of no use to him. Another heir of Rhaenyra’s blood, one more obstacle between him and his ambitions for his own children. Let the girl perish, he thought with cold calculation. It was one less threat to his plans for the Iron Throne.

Alicent, unaware of this, grew more anxious with each passing day. No response from Dragonstone. No sign of Rhaenyra. She could not wait any longer. In her desperation, she turned to another—a hope that perhaps your dearest friend, Helaena, might reach you where others had failed. Helaena, her sweet daughter, only three years your senior, had always been close to you, sharing dreams and secrets in happier times.

Alicent clasped her hands together as she stood outside your chamber, her nerves taut. She turned to Ser Rowan, your sworn knight, who had guarded you since your first breath.

"Any change today?" she asked, though her voice betrayed little hope.

Ser Rowan, his face dark with guilt, shook his head solemnly. "No, Your Grace. She has not stirred."

Alicent’s lips pressed into a thin line, and with a nod, she pushed open the door, Helaena trailing close behind. The chamber was as it always was—quiet, heavy with the air of grief. You lay in the bed, as still and silent as if the world outside had ceased to exist.

Alicent cleared her throat, trying to inject warmth into her voice. "Princess," she called gently, "I’ve brought a guest for you."

You did not stir. You did not acknowledge her at all. It was as if the words had fallen into an abyss.

Alicent’s heart sank. She glanced down at Helaena and gave her a nod of encouragement. Perhaps, just perhaps, her daughter could say what she could not.

Helaena moved slowly, her steps light as she approached your bed and sat beside you. She said nothing at first, simply humming a soft, melodic tune under her breath. From the small chest she had brought, she carefully lifted something between her fingers. The sight of her silent actions caught your attention, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, your small head peeked from beneath the covers, your curiosity piqued.

Alicent held her breath, hope blooming in her chest.

Helaena continued to hum as she gently played with the small creature in her hands, a soft smile on her lips. After a few moments of silence, you finally spoke, your voice weak and quiet. "What's that?"

Without glancing at you, Helaena murmured, "Buprestidae."

Your face scrunched in confusion, and Helaena, with her usual dreamy tone, elaborated, "It is more commonly known as the jewel beetle."

Your eyes widened in quiet wonder as you gazed at the shiny emerald insect in her hand. Its iridescent shell shimmered in the dim light, captivating your attention. "It’s very pretty," you whispered.

A faint smile touched Helaena’s lips. "My books say it is one of the most beautiful insects in the world," she said gently, her voice filled with affection as she watched your interest grow.

"Wow," you breathed, your small voice barely audible. Then, with a glimmer of your old self shining through, you looked up at Helaena, your lilac eyes filled with a trace of life. "Will you tell me more about them?"

There was a brief pause as Helaena's eyes drifted toward the untouched tray of food sitting beside your bed. She tilted her head slightly, her voice soft but firm as she made her quiet bargain. "I will... but only if you finish your soup."

Alicent’s heart pounded in her chest as she watched you hesitate, the tension in the room thick. She held her breath, praying to the gods that you would comply. After a moment of silence, you reached for the bowl and, with slow, deliberate movements, lifted the spoon to your lips.

Alicent nearly wept in relief as you began to eat, her heart lightening for the first time in what felt like ages. Helaena, true to her word, continued in her calm, melodic voice, speaking to you as you slowly finished your meal.

"Most jewel beetles are active during the day," Helaena explained, her tone soothing, "and they spend the night nestled beneath leaves or in the bark of trees. Their shimmering colors help them attract mates, especially under the bright sunlight, which makes their beauty shine even more..."

Alicent stepped back, her gaze lingering on you as the weight on her chest finally began to lift.

You found solace in Helaena’s presence, though at times her words felt like riddles, their meaning drifting past you like the wind. Still, there was something calming about her company, something soft and soothing in the way she moved and spoke. Her visits had become the brightest part of your days, a welcome distraction from the deep sorrow that still gripped you.

The ache of being separated from your mother, weighed heavy on your heart. You missed her fiercely, and the news of your father's death had only deepened that sadness. But when Helaena was near, for just a little while, the burden lightened. Her quiet, gentle presence helped you forget, even if only for a fleeting moment.

Today, the two of you sat in the warm light of your solar. Helaena perched on the chaise, her hands busy with her embroidery, weaving delicate patterns into the fabric with practiced ease. You, content with your own thoughts, sat nearby with parchment spread before you, sketching the insects Helaena had shown you in previous days. The jewel beetle, with its shimmering emerald wings, was your favorite to draw.

As your hand moved across the parchment, your mind began to drift. Your thoughts slipped away from the beetles and the quiet peace of the moment, wandering back to the last time you had seen Aemond. You could still see the hurt etched on his face, the way his expression had crumpled when you yelled at him in your grief. Your words had been sharp, and though part of you still clung to the anger, another part felt something different. Guilt. Regret.

You had missed him—more than you wanted to admit. Since you were a babe, it had always been you and Aemond, bound by blood and by the shared weight of the Targaryen legacy. You had thought that, no matter what, it would always be the two of you against the world. But then he had claimed Vhagar.

Everything had changed after that. He had left you behind, the only one of your kin without a dragon. And more than that, he had spoken cruelly, lashing out at your brothers and cousins with venom you had never seen in him before. His words had cut deeper than any sword.

But now, as you sat in silence, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had overreacted. Yes, Aemond had been harsh, and yes, he had taken Vhagar without thinking how it would make you feel. But could one misstep, one painful choice, truly undo the bond you had shared for so long? Was your friendship, your connection as kin, so fragile that it could be shattered by a single moment of anger?

You paused, the charcoal in your hand hovering over the parchment as you considered. You missed him. Truly. And perhaps, deep down, you wondered if he missed you too.

"I do not wish to marry Aegon."

You looked up in surprise, her words catching you off guard. The castle had been alive with preparation — maids sewing new gowns, cooks laboring over feasts, and courtiers whispering about the upcoming union. You knew it was common among your kin for Targaryens to wed each other, like your great-grandparents, King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne, who were siblings. But still, the thought of Helaena marrying Aegon unsettled you, and now it seemed to trouble her too.

You knew why, of course. Your uncle Aegon was cruel, more interested in wine and women than anything else. He frightened you sometimes with the way he looked through people, as though they didn’t matter at all. You couldn’t imagine him as a kind husband.

"Why don’t you tell the Queen?" you asked, leaning forward on your seat, your eyes wide and hopeful. "Tell her you don’t want to marry him."

Helaena didn’t look up, her gaze fixed on her embroidery as her needle moved with careful precision. “Mother says it is our duty,” she murmured softly, almost as if speaking to herself. “To keep the blood pure. But... I don’t believe I shall be happy.”

The way her voice wavered made your heart tighten. Without thinking, you blurted out, “What if we leave?”

Helaena blinked, her head turning slowly toward you, confusion clear in her violet eyes. “Leave?” she repeated, her tone soft and bewildered. “I do not understand.”

“What if we just left?” you said again, more firmly this time, your words coming quicker now as the idea took shape in your mind. “We could fly away. Dreamfyre is strong. We could ride her across the Narrow Sea, go somewhere far away where no one could find us.”

For a moment, Helaena only stared at you, her needle paused in mid-air. “Niece...” she began, her tone hesitant, unsure.

“Yes!” You leaped to your feet, your excitement bubbling over as you grabbed her hands, your small fingers wrapping around her delicate, unmarked ones. Your hands were still smudged with charcoal. “We could see all the wonders of Essos — the great temples, the golden fields! We would eat cakes every day and never have to worry about anything.”

Helaena’s eyes softened, though a flicker of something uncertain lingered there. “And what of coin?” she asked after a pause, her voice gentle but cautious. “How would we live?”

You waved your hand dismissively, grinning. “We have a dragon, Aunt Helaena! We wouldn’t need anything else. Dreamfyre could take us wherever we wanted. No one could stop us.”

But Helaena’s gaze grew distant again, her lips pressing into a thin line. “We would be leaving our family behind,” she said, barely above a whisper.

Your smile faded as you sat back down beside her, your shoulders slumping slightly. Your mother had already left you behind when she sent you to King’s Landing. You had not seen her in months. Aemond… well, Aemond had Vhagar now. He didn’t need you anymore. He’d probably already forgotten about you.

“They don’t care about our happiness,” you said softly, trying to convince yourself as much as Helaena. “Why should we care about theirs?”

Helaena turned her face away, her expression distant, as if lost in her thoughts. Her lips moved slowly, forming words that you didn’t quite understand, though her tone was soft and strange, like a distant lullaby. “As shadows stretch and sky turns cold, fear within, like dusk, takes hold. Alone you stand, though hearts may yearn, in darkness waiting will light return."

You blinked, completely baffled by her words, but you simply shrugged and smiled brightly. “I’ll take that as a yes!”

Helaena’s head snapped back to you, her eyes widening in alarm. “Wait—”

“We’ll meet tonight at the Dragonpit!” you declared, bouncing up from your seat, your excitement renewed. “I’ll go pack my things!”

Before she could say another word, you were already running toward the door, your heart racing at the thought of your grand adventure. You didn’t hear Helaena call after you, nor did you see the torn, pained look that crossed her face as she watched you leave, uncertainty clouding her gaze.

Sneaking out of the Red Keep was, by far, the most reckless thing you had ever done in your ten years of life. Well, perhaps not the hardest, but it certainly felt like it as you plotted how to send Ser Rowan, your sworn shield, on a task that would occupy him long enough for your escape.

Stepping out of your chambers after so long, you saw Ser Rowan look at you with wide eyes, as though he had seen a ghost. It had been months since your return and you had not left your chambers since. your presence at such an hour clearly startled him.

“Ser Rowan,” you began, trying to keep your voice even, “could you fetch me some strawberry cakes from the kitchens, please?”

It was the middle of the night, and you knew full well that no one would be stirring in the kitchens at such an hour. Ser Rowan frowned at first, his brow furrowing with concern.

“Might it wait until morning, my princess? Surely—”

You interrupted with wide eyes and a slight pout, a trick you had learned from watching your mother use many times. Ser Rowan sighed, defeated.

“As you wish, my Princess,” he said with a small bow. “I shall return as swiftly as I can.”

As soon as he disappeared down the corridor, you darted back into your chambers. Your hands moved quickly, fastening a dark cloak over your nightgown, pulling on your boots, and securing a small satchel around your waist. Inside the satchel, you placed the few things you could not bear to leave behind—a few trinkets, a drawing of your family, and the little wooden dragon Aemond had carved for you.

Heart racing with excitement, you slipped out, careful to avoid the guards as you moved silently through the Keep. You kept close to the stone walls, where the shadows were deepest, and prayed no one would see your small figure darting from one corner to the next.

Somehow, by sheer luck or skill, you made it past the castle walls. You retraced your steps, recalling the times you had secretly followed your brothers, Jace and Luke, on their way to their dragon lessons. The path to the Dragonpit came to you as if you had walked it a hundred times before.

The pit was dark and silent, save for the occasional low rumble of a sleeping dragon. You knew you should have waited outside for Helaena, but your curiosity won out. The thrill of being here alone, surrounded by the presence of dragons, was too great to resist.

The deeper you ventured into the pit, the more your heart pounded with a mix of fear and awe. And there, before you, stood Dreamfyre, Helaena’s dragon. Even in the dim light, her blue scales shimmered like precious gems.

You gasped, startled, as Dreamfyre let out a heavy breath, a plume of smoke curling from her nostrils. The sudden movement made you cough, and Dreamfyre’s eyes flickered open. For a terrifying moment, the great beast stared at you with narrowed eyes.

You froze, holding your breath, certain that you had made a grave mistake. But after what felt like an eternity, Dreamfyre closed her eyes again, seemingly uninterested in you. Slowly, you let out a breath of relief, the tension easing from your shoulders.

You had not anticipated how long it would take for Helaena to arrive. The excitement of your escape began to fade, and the long wait in the cold of the Dragonpit made your eyelids heavy. Without thinking, you found yourself sitting against Dreamfyre’s rough, warm side. Her body heat was comforting, and before long, your head drooped, sleep threatening to take you.

Just as you were about to doze off, the sound of footsteps echoed through the pit. You jumped to your feet, hastily smoothing out your cloak and dress. Heart racing once more, you called out eagerly into the darkness.

“Helaena? Is that you?”

But the voice that responded was not hers.

“No, it’s me.”

A surge of confusion washed over you as Aemond stepped into view, a torch held high in his hand. The flickering light cast sharp shadows across his face, illuminating the scarred half hidden beneath his eyepatch. The sight of him, standing there with his frown and fierce gaze, made your heart drop. You hadn’t seen him since that terrible confrontation, you had not even noticed his injury. And now, seeing him like this, the guilt and confusion from that night flooded back.

You swallowed hard, your voice quivering as you asked, “Where is Helaena?”

“She’s back in the Red Keep, where you should be,” Aemond replied, his tone firm and commanding.

He hadn’t seen you in months, and though he felt relief to see you healthy and well, there was also a deep, gnawing hurt inside him. He had been shocked when Helaena told him of your plan to run away, and that pain twisted in his chest. You, his betrothed, were going to leave him behind so easily. And as much as he would have never admitted it aloud, if you had asked him to join you, he would have gone without hesitation.

Hurt flashed in your eyes, and your lip began to tremble. “Why isn’t she here?” you whispered, your voice barely holding together.

“She told me about your plan,” Aemond said quietly, his violet gaze never leaving you. “She sent me here to tell you that she has changed her mind.”

“No,” you shook your head fiercely, your voice cracking. “No, she wouldn’t do that.”

“She realized what you were doing was wrong,” Aemond said, stepping closer, his voice calm but stern. “The two of you have duties —”

"That's so easy for you to say," you snapped, your voice suddenly sharp and filled with anger. Neither of you noticed Dreamfyre’s eyes slowly opening at the sound of your raised voices. Tears welled up in your lilac eyes as you shouted, "You’re not the one being used as a broodmare! A mere vessel for heirs!"

Aemond flinched, pain crossing his face. He reached a hand out towards you, trying to soothe you. “Niece—”

But you stepped back, tears spilling down your cheeks as you slapped his hand away. Without another word, you turned and ran, your feet flying across the stone ground as Aemond’s voice echoed behind you.

But you didn’t stop. You ran through the Dragonpit, tears blurring your vision as you navigated the winding paths. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you could hear Aemond’s footsteps behind you, but you pushed forward, taking every shortcut you knew to avoid him.

When you finally reached the Red Keep, your legs were aching, and your breaths came out in sharp gasps. You felt utterly betrayed, the sting of Helaena’s broken promise cutting deep. Your ribs ached as you hurried back to your chambers, your sobs the only sound in the cold, empty corridors.

Then, as you turned a corner, you collided with Ser Rowan, who had just returned, a tray of strawberry cakes in his hands. The tray clattered to the ground as he caught sight of your tear-streaked face, his eyes widening in alarm.

“Princess!” he exclaimed, dropping to one knee in front of you, his eyes scanning you for any sign of injury. “Are you hurt?”

But instead of answering, you flung yourself into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck and sobbing into his steel-clad shoulder. The weight of everything crashed over you—your mother’s abandonment, Aemond’s actions, and Helaena’s betrayal. It all felt too heavy to bear, and in that moment, Ser Rowan was the only one who hadn’t turned his back on you.

You clung to him, crying into his armor, while the castle around you remained cold and silent, just like the hearts of those you had once thought loved you.

So what do you think about that reader/rhaenyra parallel I snuck in?

“we could ride her across the narrow sea, go somewhere far away where no one could find us. we would eat cakes every day and never have to worry about anything.”

—reader

“i want to fly with you on dragon back, see the great wonders across the narrow sea, and eat only cake.”

—rhaenyra

TO BE CONTINUED...

Names that are in bold are ones that couldn't be added :(

@evernores @jouryuu @dbd-mommy @g-cf2020 @sl-ut @radiantdanvers @sillysillygyalsmh @callsignwidow @missyviolet123 @thelastemzy @lechat-rouge @sonichkkaaascreams @djarinsstuff @yovrnewromantic @strawberymilktea

[enhani-ki]

HII I LOVE UR FICS!! I had a suggestion.. what about jealous riki whos clingy and whiny all day so reader kinda ignores it thinking his jealousy is childish so he gets mad and takes out his frustration by fucking her? Just a thought! (keep up w the good work <33 I really love reading your fics)

jealousy, jealousy - reader x ni-ki

warnings: smut, nsfw, cursing, etc.

you were in bed alone and bored out of your mind.

sighing, you got up and wandered into the living room where you saw your angry boyfriend lying on the couch, silently scrolling through his phone.

it's your damn coworker's fault.

your new coworker had been texting you nonstop for help, ni-ki noticed and when he came to pick you up earlier today, he saw the guy touching your leg to steady you while you were on the ladder, reaching for something and on top of that, he was being clingy to you and you're pushing him off all week. he let it go but he saw you glued to your phone again so he got fed up and finally asked, "who's that?"

"hm? oh, my coworker again. i left early with you so he's just asking where to put things."

ni-ki stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing slow kisses to your shoulder. "can't he ask someone else?"

"well, he's new and i think he's more comfortable asking me. he might be shy, you know?"

"shy, my ass." ni-ki pulled back slightly, clearly annoyed. "why is he only comfortable with you?"

you pulled away completely from his hug. "i don't know, you're asking a weird question."

"no, i'm not." he stepped closer. "does he know you have a boyfriend?"

you furrowed your brows. "no?"

"why?"

"because he didn't ask and why would i randomly say, 'oh, i have a boyfriend'?"

ni-ki chuckled dryly. "tell him he can quit his job if he has to bother you like this."

"what the hell is your problem?"

now, he wouldn't talk to you.

you sat down on the couch beside him, "babe… i'm sorry…" you finally apologized. your boyfriend trusts you, you know he's never pushy and would never ask something weird unless it's genuinely bothering him.

he ignored your apology. just like how you ignored him.

you lay beside him and wrapped your arms around his waist.

you started kissing his shoulder, his arm, his neck... just small, soft kisses to try to get something out of him.

then your fingers trailed down his arm, over his stomach where he was warm and you can feel his firm muscles under your touch.

you tangled your leg with his. "ni-ki..." you called out but still, nothing.

fine.

you swung your leg over his lap, pressing your chest against his as you kissed down his neck, sucking it lightly but ni-ki still held onto his phone like he wasn't affected.

your body started craving his warmth, not sure if it is because he was refusing to touch you.

"talk to me..." you whined softly, pressing your thigh between his, rubbing against him just enough to make your intentions clear.

and when he didn't respond, you couldn't wait anymore, you removed your shirt slowly while looking at him before leaning in again to give kisses to his body.

and ni-ki bit his lip, he was watching you in his peripheral vision, fighting the urge to shove his face down to your tits.

he wanted to, but... maybe later? because you have to work for his forgiveness.

your mouth trailed down his neck again, along his collarbone, down to his chest. his abs tensed as you kissed a path lower, following the v of his hips.

and even though he's acting like a bitch, his body was betraying him because you could literally see his dick straining against his pants now, so you hurried and unfastened it to free him.

he groaned silently when he felt your cold hand wrapped around his cock. you gave it a slow pump but you took him into your mouth seconds later, moaning at the taste of him.

ni-ki's phone fell from his hands, "oh f-fuck..." he said, gripping in the cushion.

it's like you were making out with his cock.

you were bobbing your head, sucking and deepthroating him while your free hand was cupping his balls, where he was sensitive. you rolled them in your palm, his dick throbbed inside your mouth.

his legs were starting to move, you knew he was about to cum so you stopped. "wha-" ni-ki was about to complain but stopped himself.

his eyes followed your every move, you tossed your panties on his face harshly before laying down beside him. you pressed your back against his chest, lining his cock in your entrance.

and then you started rolling your hips slowly, his long thick cock was stretching your wet walls so you had to pause, "oh god..." you breathed out, bracing your hands on his thighs for support.

ni-ki hissed, trying to hold still and let you take the lead, his hands gripped your hips but it's only held you steady. still not helping to work you open even though it was so hard not to thrust up into your tight hole.

and you kept slipping off his length, you're so used to him pounding and stretching you open so now you're having trouble using him for yourself.

tears started to form in your eyes and a sob got caught in your throat as you rode him desperately to chase your release.

"please," you gasped out, clenching around him because you're already close. "i...i need you to touch me, baby." you moved faster, ni-ki's grip on your hips tightened, his thick shaft was pulsing inside but he still hadn't touched you how you needed him to.

then you pulled away and stood up, ready to walk away as angry tears streamed down your face because you can't cum.

ni-ki stood up too, grabbing your wrist right away and pulled you right back "don't be mad..." he chuckled and kissed you. "i'm supposed to be the angry one, right?"

you rolled your eyes and he knelt down, you were so wet that he had to lick some of it first.

it's okay, he's thirsty anyways.

ni-ki turned you around on your shaky legs, he grabbed your wrists and pinned them behind your back with one hand while the other slid up to your throat, his fingers were pressing just the right spots at the sides to slow the blood flow, making your head feel light.

and the new position had him hitting deeper. you can feel the tip of his dick hit your cervix, making your mind blank than it already is. usually, ni-ki would talk to you while having sex but right now, he can't think of anything aside from being angry and jealous, even ignoring the fact that you already had multiple orgasms.

his grunts and groans filled the room, along with the obscene sound of skins slapping against the other, and even though his legs were starting to ache, he couldn't stop, he wouldn't stop until he was satisfied... though he had to slow down now when he felt your pussy tightens and getting even more wet... oh, you cummed again... your body started losing balance.

"shit-" he cursed, releasing your wrists and held your body gently. "sorry..." he added, quickly pressing a kiss to you cheek then gently helped you lay on the bed.

he put your trembling legs over his shoulders. you both watched him put his cock back inside, to slide in and out.

it hurts so good, you pulled his hair. ni-ki's cock felt even bigger than usual, giving you more pleasure and pain. "fuck, baby...so tight..."

you could feel your orgasm building building again, tight in your core. "cum..." he demanded hotly against your ear. "soak my dick more."

ni-ki buried his face in the crook of your neck, his hips were already stuttering. and he looked so good, biting his lips and shit.

after you came, ni-ki wiped your tears before bringing his fingers to your lips. "open your mouth, baby."

ni-ki pulled out abruptly and stood to press his cock to your mouth. cursing and moaning your name as he pumped his hot load onto your tongue before collapsing next to you, he could barely feel his legs.

then he let out a breathless chuckle after he saw you. "you look like a mess."

"whose fault is that?"

he smiled and hugged you. "yours..." ni-ki said, then he sat up. "be right back."

you whined, tightening your grip around his arm. "nooo, stay."

he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead before gently prying your arms off him. "i gotta clean you up, baby. we're both messy."

hours later, you woke up and stretched your limbs, only to feel a familiar weight beside you. ni-ki was still half-asleep, his arm were resting over your waist, your legs were tangled together with his.

"you okay?" he asked, his voice deep and a little raspy.

"mhmm..."

ni-ki kissed your shoulder. "you sure?"

you grinned sleepily, peeking up at him. "yes, you stopped ignoring me."

"because i was mad earlier." he pinched your side lightly, making you squirm. "and you just kept pushing it, it's so annoying."

you giggled, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. "then stop being mad at me over stupid things."

"stupid things? that dude was all over you." he huffed, "touching your leg, texting you all day… if i didn't come pick you up, who knows what you would've let him do."

you rolled your eyes. "what? first of all, i won't let him do anything. second, he was just helping to steady me."

"next time, let the ladder steady you.." he grumbled. "did you tell him?"

you groaned, turning to bury your face into your pillow. "ni-ki, seriously?"

you don't know why he'd ask that, he's literally sleeping with you all this time and you don't even know where you put that stupid phone.

he placed his head on his hand, propping himself up on one elbow, staring down at you with messy hair and sleepy eyes. "did you tell him you have a boyfriend?"

"good morning to me."

ni-ki ignored your sarcasm, nudging your cheek with his nose. "did you?"

you ignored him, hoping he'll let it go if you stayed quiet.

ni-ki groaned, rolling onto his side and throwing a leg over yours to trap you in place. "you didn't, did you?"

"ni-ki..."

"i don't get what's so hard about it."

"it's not hard..." you muttered, already feeling exhausted. "go find my phone."

"it's not there?"

you shook your head.

"okay, do it later."

you facepalmed.

then he dramatically collapsed onto you. "babe, what if he thinks he has a chance? what if he texts you again today? what if he-"

you covered his mouth.

his lips curved into a grin against your palm before he licked it.

you yelped, pulling your hand back as he laughed.

he grinned again before leaning in, his voice turned into a whiny murmur. "just tell him later, okay?"

at this point, you knew he wasn't jealous anymore. he's just doing this to annoy you.

"yes, i'll tell him today."

"promise?"

"yes, promise!"

he squinted his eyes at you. "say it nicely."

you rolled your eyes but just played along, cupping his face. "ni-ki, my wonderful, stubborn boyfriend, i promise i will inform that guy today that i have a boyfriend."

he hummed, satisfied, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

"can i go back to sleep now?"

ni-ki pretended to think for a moment before shaking his head. "nope. i'm awake, so you have to be, too."

a/n: hi, this is very late so forgive me T T but i hope you'll like it

マスターリストm.list

[fairyhaos]

how seventeen react to their s/o suddenly getting shy

requested by anon! u gotta read the full req for this to make sense really but oh god. it is So cute.

masterlist

seungcheol, dokyeom, seungkwan

unbelievably and adorably flustered when you admit u think he just looks really pretty rn and it's making you shy. makes those adorable whiny sounds going all “뭐야~” cuz he's so flustered by the fact that you like him so much. ridiculously pleased, and will tease you about it but he needs about 5 minutes to compose himself beforehand, which in turn gives you something to tease Him about :] it's literally not fair tho like how can you just say those things to his face likeee ?? wdym you get hit with the fact you're in love with him at random while he has to deal with this soul-crushing adoration every minute of the day???? 

jeonghan, joshua, hoshi

he's never letting you live it down. tilts his head when you look over at him and suddenly hide your face in your hands, wagging his eyebrows suggestively when you mumble that he just looked really pretty. then he laughs, utterly endeared, and just is constantly going “aww did you get flustered? you thought i looked handsome? look at you, you're so cute, getting all shy over me being your boyfriend 🥰” for a full ten minutes straight just to see you blush even more. will bring up this situation in conversations for the next seven years, a) because it's funny and b) because he really is quite touched that u think he's that cute

junhui, mingyu, chan

“aww babe that's so cute but guess what?? i have a crush on you tooooo!!!!” literally unfazed. giggles and flirts with you in an instant, like that's the most natural response to your comment. he is literally suchhhhh a loser when it comes to u bc he just loves you sososo much and like. what else is he supposed to do when u suddenly tell him that you have a crush on him? spends the rest of the day alternating between flirting heavily and reminding you again and again that he Also has a crush on you and that he likes you. a lot. like ridiculous amounts, you know? his crush on you is bigger than the universe, and he makes sure you Know It

wonwoo, woozi, minghao, vernon

you shyly admit that you're getting all embarrassed cuz you just realised that. you literally have a crush on ur boyfriend. and he smiles a bit, dryly raising an eyebrow. “i sure hope that you have a crush on me, because i don't wanna be the only one in this relationship with a crush.” he says it so matter-of-factly, the i have a crush on you too devastatingly clear in his voice and you can't help but get even more flustered, giddy by the fact that the person you like also likes you back. which should have been obvious, but it's always nice to get confirmation, you know? 

request guidelines

reactions tags: @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @newgirlygirl @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @wonranghaeee @yonabutnotyuna @crackedpumpkin @wqnwoos @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @icyminghao @valenhui @sweet-like-caramel @odxrilove @kyeomyun @chansburgah @pepperonijem @jeonride @kellesvt @kikohao @astrozuya @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @all-american-fangirl @f1uffyjun @sea-moon-star @nonononranghaee @isabellah29 @mcu-incorrect @hrts4hanniehae @suraandsugar @pan-de-seungcheol @dokyeomkyeom @melodicrabbit @bunnliix @bananabubble

[jobean12-blog]

The Fine Print

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (CEO!Bucky AU)

Word Count: 4,126

Summary: You've been working under Bucky for almost a year and he's always been a grumpy ass and even though when the lines get blurred you can't seem to stay away.

Author's Note: These new pics and all the new gym shots and vids and yum! Just being fed so well! I like the idea of a grumpy CEO who just wants you and he's mad about it. No excuse for being a dick but he's not really all bad. And anyway, I'd never tell him no...haha! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Thank you Daisy for the lovely divider @firefly-graphics😘

Warnings: Grumpy ass Bucky (he's a total ass sometimes but has moments of softness), sassy reader, lots of tension, flirting, curses, fingering, light dirty talk

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You’re late. Only twenty minutes but it’s long enough that your grumpy ass of a boss will have your head for it.

Grumpy…and an ass but entirely too gorgeous.

You pick up the pace, precariously balancing your files and bags and hoping you don’t faceplant on the newly shined floors.

Getting a flat tire on the highway this morning wasn’t on your long to-do list for today, but it still happened and now you’ll have to deal with a very cranky Mr. Barnes.

You round the corner and enter your office, ready to give your usual sunshine filled greeting.

“Good morning, Mr. Barnes!”

He’s standing at your desk, arms crossed over his broad chest and his eyes hard.

“Is it a good morning?” he asks, not bothering to move out of the way as you try to slip around him. “What time is it?”

You stop and meet his glare.

“I had some car trouble this morning. I got a flat on my way in.”

Your voice comes out steady and strong and relief floods through you. This was the first time you were late, and you were not going to be reprimanded.

“Trouble is quite the fitting word for what I’ve been dealing with in your absence.”

You glance up at him and his antagonizing stare, and blink away your surprise at his words.

“I would have thought you would at least ask me if I was ok Mr. Barnes,” you say sweetly and with a smile. “After all, how could I possibly manage to fix a flat tire all on my own.”  

His jaw clenches tightly.

“Obviously you managed,” he counters. “And you look just fine.”

Beautiful blue eyes wander languidly down your body before making their slow perusal back up to study your face.

You try to school your features and when he raises an expectant brow you bite back with, “Thankfully I am fine, and I got help but I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with the burden of picking up a telephone and sending an e-mail all on your own this morning. It won’t happen again.”

He takes a step closer to you and you stop yourself from swaying forward to get a hint of his scent.

Traitorous body. If only the fucker wasn’t so fucking hot.

“You’re right. It won’t,” he replies with a smug smile. “And just so you don’t forget, I’d like to see…”

He spends the next minute rattling off several project pieces he’d like to see completed and on his desk by the end of the day.

“And then you can make up the half an hour you missed by getting together a mock presentation for our meeting tomorrow.”

When your nostrils flare, he smiles triumphantly and dips his head, so his warm breath caresses the shell of your ear.

“I’ll see you in the conference room at six.”

He turns away and slams his office door behind him and you let out an exasperated puff of air.

“It was only twenty minutes asshole.”

You mutter the words under your breath as you plop into your office chair and continue to curse his name in grumbles.

There’s a light knock on the door before it opens and you know you’re about to hear the voice of your friend and coworker, Jess.

“I know you’re working through lunch,” she says. “So at least let me get you something.”

You don’t look up but smile nonetheless, your fingers flying over the keyboard with ease.

“Honestly, I don’t even think I have time to eat,” you say before hitting the period button hard and meeting her eyes.

Jess gives you a sympathetic look. “I’ll grab you something nutritious.”

She waves before gently shutting the door. You lean over to check your desk drawer for snacks, the mention of lunch reminding you that you are in fact, hungry. At the same time that you see you have nothing to eat you notice a tear in your stockings.

“Son of a bitch,” you grumble. “I just bought these.”

Less than a minute later your door opens again and without looking up from your screen you whine, “do you know what, after the morning I’ve had I think I’ll take something sweet…maybe a cookie. Or twelve. Or chocolate of any kind.”

When you receive no acknowledgement, in return you glance up and see that Jess is not standing at your door.

You quickly tug the hem of your skirt down, noting how Bucky’s eyes track the movement and linger on your legs.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes, I didn’t realize…”

“Since your morning has been so awful,” he starts, his sly smile growing, “why don’t you run down to the café and pick us both up some lunch.”

Your lips purse and once again his eyes seem glued to every action you take.

“Mr. Barnes, Jess has just come in and said she would grab me something to eat so I can continue working through lunch.”

When he doesn’t say anything, you continue.

“I have A LOT to get done.”

“I’m sure you’ll make it work,” he says before rattling off his lunch order.

He turns on his heel and takes two long strides back to his office, pulling the door closed hard behind him.

“What the f…?”

You don’t even finish the sentence when he opens the door again and pokes his head out.

“Make sure you get yourself something to eat. We’re going to be here late.”

The door slams shut again, and you abruptly stand, your rolling chair flying back into the wall as you storm off.

“Why does he care if I eat or not?” you ask yourself as you angrily stuff things into your bag and throw it over your shoulder.

The rest of the day goes by far too quickly and you find yourself cursing out the copy machine as you wait for the rest of your papers to go through. Checking your phone you see you’re already almost ten minutes late to your afterhours ‘meeting.’

You rush down the dim hall of the now empty building, your presentation materials clutched tightly to your chest and glance again at your phone.

Fifteen minutes. Shit.

As you near the conference room, you try to calm your breathing and slow to a walk. A soft light shines from under the door, and you know he’s in there waiting for you.

Taking a deep breath you knock.

“Come in.”

You walk into the large room, never failing to take in the view of the city that the floor to ceiling windows along one wall highlight.

At the head of the large dark wood conference table, sits Bucky. His suit jacket is hanging haphazardly over the back of his chair, his tie is loose around his neck, and the crisp white sleeves of his button down are rolled up to his elbows.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes. The copy machine…”

Realizing you’ve been apologizing all day, and it has made no difference, you stop yourself and lift your chin, walking over to where he sits and placing down your papers, sorting through them as quickly as possible so you can begin.

“Have you eaten dinner?” he asks.

His question takes you completely by surprise and you meet his piercing blue eyes with a confused expression.

“I uh…I had lunch.”

“That doesn’t answer my question sweetheart.”

At his sugared endearment, your eyes widen, and your breath catches in your throat, but you regain your composure.

“No. I haven’t.”

He just nods and gestures to the papers, clearly waiting for you to get started.

You lean over the table, searching for the paper you need and in your disheveled state don’t realize your entire lower body is practically draped over him.

“I just need to find…”

The words catch in your throat when you feel his fingers softly touch your thigh, slowly inching higher to reveal the tear in your stocking. His fingertips trace the sheared fabric and press against your skin, igniting it with heat.

Every muscle in your body tenses, your heart pounds in your chest and your brain screams at you to push him away but you don’t dare move.

“Look at me,” he demands, pressing his fingertips harder into your skin.

You straighten and turn to face him, his hand sliding up and over the curve of your hip to settle on your waist.

“Mr. Barnes?” you ask, keeping your eyes trained on his.

“James. Call me James.”

The intensity of his stare makes your breath catch and when he doesn’t answer and instead continues letting his hand trace your curves you battle with your emotions.

“The next time you have car trouble,” and his hand slips under your skirt again, “you call me.”

“What? Why would I?”

His fingertips graze the lace top of your stocking before he lifts your skirt higher and drops his eyes between your legs.

“Because I said so,” he murmurs, teasing along your inner thigh.

Your hand falls to the table to steady yourself and you willingly spread your legs open when he gives them a slight push.

“That’s hardly a good reason,” you breathe out.

“Fuck,” he growls, and his eyes fall closed.

You glance down at his lap and see him straining against the expensive fabric of his pants.

He smooths two fingers along the line of your panties, lightly pressing against your swollen and sensitive clit. His eyes open and he looks furious, fisting the thin material in his hand and in one quick movement, tearing it off.

He pulls you down roughly onto his lap, your skirt riding up over your hips to accommodate the wide spread of your legs as you straddle him.

An involuntary moan slips past your parted lips when he grabs your ass and drags you down over his hard cock.

When he opens his mouth to speak you grab his tie between your fingers and use it to pull his mouth to yours. Every sweep of his lips is heaven, and you release his tie to rake your fingers through his hair.

He makes a low, angry noise deep in his throat and you trail your lips along his jaw, kissing your way down the strong column of his neck.

His hand slides from your ass and slips between your legs, his fingers brushing through the wetness just before there’s a knock on the door.

You both go completely still and wait. When a second knock sounds, he quietly curses and gently lifts you off his lap.

You quickly pull your skirt down and smooth your hands over your hips. He watches your every move as he runs a hand through his mussed hair and sits up in the chair, hiding his legs and erection under the table.

“What?” he growls, loud enough for whomever is on the other side to hear.

“Mr. Barnes, we’re scheduled to do maintenance in here tonight.”

He curses again and continues to stare at you.

“I’m just finishing a meeting. Give me five minutes.”

“Of course, Mr. Barnes,” the maintenance manager, says, “take your time.”

His chest rises and falls rapidly as he splays his hands out over the tabletop. Hastily he stands and tries to straighten his tie, his eyes landing on your ripped panties that lie on the floor.

He grabs them and rubs the silky fabric between his fingers.

“Make sure you eat something,” he says and then shrugs on his suit jacket, tucking your panties into the breast pocket.

You’re clutching the table and staring as he grabs his briefcase and starts toward the door.

“It’s late. I’m going to have security walk you to your car,” he states, finally meeting your eyes.

His groan is pained as his gaze travels down your body and then he disappears out the door.

You fall back into a chair and try to calm your breathing. You’d have to be out of here in a minute and you didn’t want to look suspicious. Seeing movement outside the door you begin gathering your things and stand on still shaky legs.

With a deep inhale you straighten your shoulders and walk out the door with a serene smile, greeting the head of security and thanking him for escorting you out.

What the fuck just happened?

The next morning you’re making your way into the office when he walks in. You do nothing more than greet him with a curt nod, giving him a wide berth of space as you make your way to your desk.

You can feel his eyes on you, the lick of heat traveling down your spine. You’re wearing your favorite dress and while it’s appropriate for the workspace it accentuates all the right spots, and you smile to yourself as you bend down to retrieve something from your desk drawer.

Regardless of what transpired last night you are not going to let it affect your work. You felt powerful and confident in this dress and Mr. Barnes can fuck off.

You peek over your shoulder to find him standing halfway in the doorway of his office and staring. You raise your brows and blink.

He clears his throat and mumbles a short “good morning,” then steps into his office and slams the door.

You roll your eyes and promise yourself he’ll be the last thing on your mind as you set out to get as much work done today as possible.

As lunch approaches you grab your bag and reach for your wallet. Your fingers close around a crumpled piece of paper, and you start to smile when you’re reminded of what it is.

You knock on his office door and saunter inside when he says, “come in.” The receipt hits his desk with a smack and without an explanation you turn and walk back out.

You almost make it to the first step in the stairwell when you hear footsteps approach behind you.

“Where the hell do you think you’re running off to?” he calls.

You continue walking and make it down one flight of steps before saying, “to get lunch.”

He meets you on the landing and clutches your elbow, spinning you around and pushing you against the wall.

Your eyes narrow contemptuously.

He whips the receipt out and in front of your face. “Want to explain this sweetheart?”

You let out a wry chuckle. “You know for such a smart guy you really are an ass sometimes. It’s a receipt.”

“I can see that,” he says through clenched teeth. “What I want to know is why you’re making purchases for…lingerie…on my company credit card.”

“Some jerk ripped up my favorite pair of panties last night.”

You shrug your shoulders and try to skirt past him.

His hand meets the wall next to your head, his fingers curling and crumpling the receipt and you can feel how tightly the muscles in his body are flexed when he presses closer.

He looks tormented for the split second before his lips crash down on yours and your treacherous body melts into the kiss.

His cock throbs against your stomach as he tries to hike your dress up over your thighs. Reluctantly he steps back, making enough space so he can slowly slide your dress higher, above your panties and look his fill.

“I like this pair even more than last nights,” he simpers.

His fingers hook into the lace at your hip, and you grab his shirt. “Don’t you dare Barnes.”   

“You can buy as many new pairs as you want.”

He once again easily tears them from your hips.

Your lips part in shock but he swallows your sassy remark with his mouth. The roughness of his kiss is a sharp contrast to the way his fingers softly tease between your legs.

You need more but you’ll be damned if you’re going to beg him for it. As if he can read your inner thoughts, his eyes light up in triumph when he pulls away to meet your gaze.

“As much as I want to hear you beg me for it sweetheart, I already know how badly you want it. You’re soaked for me.”

“You’re such an ass…”

He slides a finger inside you and your combined groans echo in the empty stairwell, the insult dying on your lips.

His stare is intense as he dips his head to your ear, warm lips brushing ever so gently when he whispers, “say please and I’ll give you what you want.”

Instead, you nip at his jaw, stifling the moan of need that threatens to rise in your throat. He continues pumping one finger in and out, sweat beginning to bead on his brow and his teeth gritted.

You hiss out a curse that’s followed by a breathy “please.”

You’re expecting him to be smug but instead he slows his movements and languidly pushes a second finger inside you, clearly relishing the way your eyelids flutter closed and you clench around him.

“That’s it sweetheart. Show me how much you love it when I fuck you with my fingers.”

His words practically send you over the edge but it’s the press of his thumb to your clit that makes your legs start to shake and his name fall from your lips like a prayer.

When his head falls to your neck and he places soft kisses along your skin, traveling up to your ear to whisper, “come for me gorgeous,” you let go and dig your fingernails into his strong shoulders, finishing with a muffled cry.

He draws out your pleasure with the slow push and pull of his fingers before sliding them out and holding them between you, his skin glistening under the harsh fluorescent lights.

His fingers press to his lips, parting them as he licks them clean, clearly savoring every drop of your taste.

“I knew you’d be sweet,” he croons.

“James,” you whimper when your hands fall to his pants.

He grabs your wrist to stop you and pushes your hand away. With soft movements he fixes your dress, smoothing his hands along your curves.

“But…” you start, and he silences you with a kiss.

You’re breathless and your head is fuzzy by the time he pulls away and with a wink he steps back and says, “lunch is over. We have a meeting to attend.”

He turns on his heel and jogs back up the steps with ease. Your narrowed eyes follow him before you let out a frustrated huff and walk on wobbly legs in the same direction.

You had forgotten all about the meeting…the one you were supposed to go over the plans for the night before.

When you walk into the large conference room everyone is already seated and Bucky is of course at the head of the table. His eyes are trained on you as you walk to the front and place your things down near him.

The presentation you’re giving shouldn’t take more than ten minutes, but there’s a lot riding on it and after what just happened, you’re obviously feeling flustered.

You open your document and greet and address the room, doing everything in your power to keep your focus on where it belongs and not on him.

But when you pause your eyes lock with his and your ability to speak is momentarily stolen. His gaze is intense, the heat simmering there almost palpable.

With a clear of your throat you continue, fumbling slightly but thankfully recovering quick enough that no one seems to notice. No one but him.

His perfect lips raise in a lopsided grin, and he runs his tongue along the seam of his lips. It’s clear where his thoughts are, and you must tear your eyes away to unscramble your head. He’s obviously trying to fluster you and quickly your nerves are replaced with anger, and you use it to fuel the rest of your presentation, finishing it with ease.

You sit with a smile and lift your chin, challenging him with your eyes. He stares right back.

“Thank you,” he says, addressing you by your first name as he stands and commands the room. “That was an excellent presentation. Clearly, you were well prepared.”

You can’t tell if his words are mocking or meaningful and it sets you on edge. He moves around the room and answers any lingering questions before ending the meeting with a dismissive hand.

As people stand and gather their things, Bucky comes up behind you, pressing his chest close to your back as he leans in to pretend to grab something from the table.

“I wasn’t sure you were going to make it thought that” he chuckles.

To everyone else it appears he’s making a funny remark, but you can feel your skin heat at his proximity and taunting words.

“Ugh,” you say through gritted teeth. “You would have loved that wouldn’t you?”

You can feel your eyes fill with unshed tears, the emotions of the day finally catching up to you and when his gaze finds yours his expression morphs from haughty to soft in an instant.

It only sends you reeling again, the confusion flooding through you and before he can say more you gather your things and rush out the door. Unexpectedly, he’s hot on your heels all the way to the elevator.

There are several other people on it so when you stop at the next floor and more employees file in, you’re squeezed toward the back, pushed farther into him, your ass against his crotch.

He’s hard and you feel the rest of him stiffen with the sharp intake of his breath. You take a step away from him, as much as you can in the confined space, but he reaches forward and grips your hip to pull you back.

“Don’t move,” he whispers into your neck.

“I’m two seconds away from shoving my heel up your ass,” you seethe.

He leans even closer, keeping a firm grasp on your hip.

“You were deliberately trying to make me fuck that up!”

You turn your head to peer at him and his mouth falls open, brows furrowed.

“What?” he says.

“You heard me.”

When you reach the floor just before the top, everyone else exits the elevator and the doors close, leaving you both pressed together in the corner.

It starts to move again, and you jerk backward, falling against him as he leans into the wall.

His sudden growl startles you and then he slams his hand into the stop button on the control panel.

His body cages you against the wall and his breathing is harsh.

“I would never want you to fuck anything up,” he exhales. “It’s impossible for me to think about anything but you…how good you taste, and I haven’t even gotten my mouth on you.”

You hide your surprise at his confession.

“Yet.” He adds in a promised whisper.

“This is my career at stake Mr. Barnes. You’re the one with all the power here. What do you have to lose?”

“Me? All the power?” He laughs dryly. “You’re the one who does this to me…the only one.”

You feel him throb against your stomach and you can see the truth in his eyes.

“Then don’t be such a dick all the time.”

You mean the words to come out harsh but instead they’re a quiet whisper and your expression softens.

It’s all he needs before his lips crash to yours and he slides his hands down to your ass, squeezing his way to the hem of your dress.

“I had to sit there and watch you present, the whole fucking time knowing you had nothing on under here.”

His touch is delicate as he spreads your legs and slides a finger through your folds, already wet and aching.

“I was sitting there hard as a rock just thinking about bending you over that table, tasting you, fucking you.”

Your fingers close around his biceps, the soft fabric of his suit jacket bulging under the strained muscles.

“Is that what you want?” he asks as his fingers continue to tease you.

“Yes,” you answer as you grab hold of his tie and bring his lips closer.

He kisses you, never touching you where you need it most and when he pulls away, he presses the elevator button, causing it to start moving again.

He removes his fingers and reaches up to straighten his tie and when the doors open, he backs out, his voice low and deep when he says, “I need to see you in my office. Immediately.”

He turns and glides from the elevator, his long strides carrying him quickly toward his office and you can’t do anything but follow.

@blackwidownat2814 @hiddles-rose @kmc1989 @goldylions @lizette50

[differenteagletragedy]

The thing where you're Price's neighbor -- you move in while he's on leave, and he meets you while you're moving the few belongings you have into your new place. He's good at reading people and can sense that you're sad and broken, despite the tentative smile you give him when you shake his hand.

And it's not like there's some immediate spark. You're pretty, sure, and sometimes he might sneak a little look while he's walking behind you up the stairs when the elevator goes out again, but he's not falling in love.

Not yet, anyway.

It's not until one night, just before he's set to leave again, that he starts to think maybe this could be something. When he begins to toy with the idea that he might let himself feel something real for you.

He hears you crying through his bedroom wall. He's been in your apartment a few times, helping you bring in your groceries, little neighborly things like that, so he knows your home mirrors his own. He can almost imagine you there, laying in your bed, crying over whatever had happened to make you look so small and sorrowful all the time.

It's hard to hear, but he's made a living out of doing things that are too hard for most people. But then he hears one particularly pitiful sob, a little hitch in your breath as you cry, and it's enough for him to pull a pair of jeans on and knock on your door.

You're embarrassed when you answer it, and you try to make it look like you weren't crying, but something in the warm, knowing look in his eyes, the small, tight smile he gives you sets you off again, and before you know it, he's ushering you out of your apartment and into his, guiding you to sit on his couch and moving into the kitchen.

"I'll make you some tea, love," he tells you in his quiet, gruff voice. "You just sit tight."

"John, you don't have to, it's late and --"

He cuts you off with a chuckle, glancing to you from behind the counter as he asks, "You really think you could make me do something I didn't want to do?"

You give in -- of course you couldn't -- and soon he's sitting on the other end of the couch, arms crossed over his broad chest, and he waits. He gives you a choice to talk about it if you want, or to quietly enjoy his company if you don't.

But you're tired, both physically and of feeling this way, and so you unload everything. How you moved here after a rough breakup, your ex was a jerk who didn't want to let go. He'd called you again earlier, which was what had gotten you upset.

And Price listens to all of it. Even as he feels a surge of anger at the thought of someone making you -- sweet, soft little you -- feel that way. He lets you get it all out, and when you're done, he can't help but reach out a hand to give you a light tap on your shoulder.

"Well, pet, I'll tell you what," he says softly. "Next time he calls, you come give the phone to me, yeah?"

It feels protective, the way he says it, like he wants to keep you safe. It's sweet, and it makes you smile. A real smile this time, one that finally meets your eyes.

And there it is -- the moment that John knows he's all in.

You talk for a while longer, more lighthearted conversation that flows easily. It lasts long enough that by the time you leave to go back to your apartment and back to bed, he realizes that it makes more sense to stay awake until it's time to leave.

He's gone for weeks on a mission, and so much of the time, his mind wanders back to you. How that smile lit up your face, and how he wanted nothing more than to bring that smile out as often as he could. He dreams up ways he'll tell you how he feels, plans out different scenarios for how you might react.

It's almost tactical, how much thought he puts into it. But, for better or for worse, he's a man with a plan. And by the time he gets back home, he has what he feels like is a foolproof one.

The plan goes out the window when he knocks on your door and is greeted by a man. A tall, thin man he could break over his knee if he wanted to (and in that moment, he very much wants to).

Price asks for you, nervous for a moment that you'd somehow moved out in the time he was gone and that this man is his new neighbor, but then the man turns and calls out your name, and you walk out from the bedroom.

You won't meet his eyes, and he understands immediately what's going on -- this man is your ex, who seems to have weaseled his way back into your life.

Price clears his throat, looking down at you.

"Just came to check on you, love," he says quietly. "Wanted to let you know I'm back."

You do look at him then, and smile softly at him, but it's not the beautiful, radiant one he'd thought about so often while he was away. No, it's the fake one. It's meaningless, a perfunctory twitch of muscle.

You're broken again.

That simply won't do, will it?

[oldsoul007]

kiss me

grumpy!joel miller x reader

summary: Joel despises the superficiality of Valentine’s Day, and you, a hopeless romantic who adores love in all its forms, find your friendship tested when you spend Valentine’s week together as single friends, only to discover unexpected feelings that blur the line between friendship and love.

a/n: a little valentine story for yall 💞

joel miller masterlist

Valentine’s week was my favorite time of year. Everything felt lighter, softer—like the world was wrapped in a warm, pink haze. Even if most people thought it was cheesy, I loved it. Love letters, heart-shaped candies, couples holding hands—it made me believe that love, real love, was still out there.

Joel Miller didn’t share that belief.

“Don’t even start,” Joel grumbled the moment he picked up my call, his deep, tired voice crackling through the phone.

I grinned, curling up on my couch with a cup of coffee. “Start what?” I teased, already picturing the irritated look on his face. “I was just calling to check on my favorite Valentine’s Grinch.”

He let out a long sigh, and I bit back a laugh.

“What do you want, y/n?”

“Well,” I drew out the word, knowing exactly how much he’d hate what I was about to say. “We’re both single this year. Why don’t we spend Valentine’s week together?”

There was a beat of silence. I imagined him blinking in disbelief.

“You’re joking.”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!” I insisted. “Movies, takeout, no pressure. And who knows? Maybe I’ll even convince you that love isn’t as terrible as you think it is.”

“Not happening,” he muttered, but I heard the faintest smile in his voice.

“Is that a yes?” I pressed, holding my breath.

Another long sigh, then—“Fine. But don’t expect me to wear anything pink.”

I laughed, my heart fluttering. “Deal.”

The next few days felt like walking a tightrope.

We spent almost every moment together, but never crossed the line. We did all the things couples do—late-night drives with music humming softly in the background, sharing breakfasts at the little diner on Main Street, walking through the park while I pointed out every couple holding hands just to watch Joel roll his eyes.

But neither of us said it. Neither of us dared to admit what was simmering beneath the surface.

“This is exhausting,” Joel muttered as we sat on a park bench, sipping coffee.

“What is?” I asked, smiling into my cup.

“All of this. People pretending for a week that they’re in love.”

I nudged his shoulder playfully. “Not everyone’s pretending, you know.”

He scoffed. “Name one couple that ain’t puttin’ on a show.”

I didn’t even have to think. “My grandparents.”

Joel raised an eyebrow.

“They’ve been together for 53 years,” I said softly, my smile turning wistful. “They met in college. My grandpa still brings her flowers every Friday. And she still laughs at all his bad jokes.”

Joel let out a low hum, like he wasn’t sure if he believed me.

“I’m not saying it’s common,” I added, reading his mind. “But just because it’s rare doesn’t mean it’s not real.”

He glanced at me then, his gaze lingering a little too long, a little too soft. My breath caught, but I looked away before my feelings betrayed me.

One afternoon, we ended up in the bookstore downtown, wandering through the aisles. Joel found himself in the history section, while I was drawn to the romance novels, of course.

“You’re really gonna read one of those?” he asked, leaning against the shelf with a teasing smirk.

“Yes, Joel,” I shot back, holding up a book with a dramatic cover. “It’s called escapism. You should try it sometime.”

“I’ll stick to the real world, thanks.”

“Where love doesn’t exist?” I teased.

“Exactly.”

I sighed dramatically, shaking my head. “You’re hopeless.”

As we walked out, I couldn’t help myself. I nodded toward an older couple sitting on a bench, their hands intertwined, lost in their own little world.

“Look at them,” I whispered. “Don’t tell me that’s not real.”

Joel followed my gaze, but said nothing. I wished I knew what he was thinking.

It started with a simple plan—cook dinner, keep things light, pretend my heart wasn’t on the verge of bursting every time Joel Miller looked at me.

I wasn’t exactly a gourmet chef, but I knew my way around a kitchen well enough to whip up something decent. Joel sat at the counter, watching me with an amused expression, a beer in hand.

“You sure you’re not gonna burn the place down?” he teased.

I shot him a playful glare. “I’m perfectly capable, thank you very much.”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair like he didn’t have a care in the world. I, on the other hand, was trying not to melt under the weight of his gaze.

I turned on some music to fill the silence, letting the soft strum of a guitar filter through the room. And then it happened—one of my favorite love songs started playing. A soft, sweet melody that made my chest ache.

“Uh-oh,” Joel muttered, already sensing what was coming.

I grinned, turning to face him. “Dance with me.”

“Y/n…” he warned, shaking his head.

“Please?” I stretched out the word, giving him my best pleading eyes. “For me?”

He let out a long sigh, but when I reached out my hand, he took it without a fight.

His hand was warm as he pulled me close, his touch gentle despite the roughness of his calloused fingers. We swayed in my tiny kitchen, the smell of dinner forgotten, the music weaving around us like a secret only we knew.

“This is ridiculous,” he whispered, but there was a softness in his voice, in the way his hand rested on my waist.

“Maybe,” I whispered back, resting my head lightly on his shoulder. “But it’s nice, isn’t it?”

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. I could feel it—the way his grip tightened ever so slightly, the way his breath hitched when I leaned in closer.

For a moment, it felt like we weren’t pretending anymore. Like the feelings we never spoke about were real, tangible.

When the song ended, Joel pulled back slowly, his eyes lingering on mine. The air between us crackled with something unspoken.

“Dinner’s gonna burn,” he muttered, clearing his throat as he stepped away.

I laughed softly, but my heart still ached.

Because even when we danced around our feelings, I knew the truth.

Valentine’s Day arrived quietly, the way it always did.

I felt like I was losing my grip. Every smile, every lingering glance, every time Joel’s hand brushed against mine felt like it was unraveling me.

When I opened my apartment door that morning to find Joel standing there—grumpy expression firmly in place—holding a small bouquet of wildflowers, I froze.

“Uh… these are for you,” he mumbled, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

I stared at the flowers, then at him, trying to process the fact that Joel Miller—the man who swore up and down that Valentine’s Day was nothing but a commercial scam—was holding flowers for me.

“Is this a joke?” I teased, even though my heart was racing.

“Do you want ‘em or not?” he grumbled, shoving them toward me.

I laughed softly, taking the bouquet from his hands. “They’re beautiful, Joel. Thank you.”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just… you like this kinda thing. Figured you deserved somethin’ nice.”

My chest tightened at his words. Joel Miller, who claimed not to believe in love, had just done something more thoughtful than any grand gesture ever could be.

That night, we ended up back at my apartment, a bottle of wine between us, laughing over old memories.

“I don’t get it,” Joel said, leaning back on the couch, his voice quieter now. “You got your heart broken—bad—and you still believe in all this love stuff.”

I swallowed hard, the memory of my past relationship still a dull ache. “Because I know what it feels like to be loved, Joel. Even if it wasn’t forever. And I know what it feels like to be alone, too.”

He looked at me then, something unreadable in his eyes. “You’re not alone,” he whispered.

And for a moment, I let myself believe him.

The night felt endless, every moment stretching out between us like a question neither of us wanted to answer.

I could feel Joel beside me, the weight of his presence grounding me, but also unraveling me. The flowers he’d given me sat on the table, delicate and unexpected, just like him.

“Joel,” I whispered, barely able to hear my own voice over the pounding of my heart.

He turned to me, eyes darker than usual, something unreadable flickering in them.

I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but before I could, Joel was already moving.

His hand cupped my face, rough fingertips trailing along my jaw, and then his lips were on mine.

This wasn’t a tentative kiss. This wasn’t careful. This was Joel Miller finally giving in, finally letting go of every wall he had built around his heart.

His mouth pressed urgently against mine, and I melted into him, my hands gripping his shirt as if holding on for dear life. His other hand slid around my waist, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us.

I felt everything in that kiss—every unspoken word, every moment we’d danced around our feelings, every piece of him he’d kept hidden from the world.

When we broke apart, breathless, Joel rested his forehead against mine, his voice rough and low.

“I can’t fight it anymore,” he whispered. “I don’t want to.”

I swallowed hard, my heart aching in the best way. “Then don’t.”

He kissed me again, softer this time, but with the same intensity, the same longing that had always been there—waiting for us to finally stop pretending.

In that moment, I knew. Joel Miller didn’t just care for me.

He loved me.

[kiszjuli]

↳ trust me the way i trust you .ᐟ n.jm

(재민) ; childhoodbestfriend!jaemin x afab!reader

──in which you and your lifelong best friend have one of your traditional sleepovers, yet something about you two is different this time. he’s more clingy, you’re more bold..it’s just simple bantering..what could go wrong? oh yeah, and you have an immense crush on jaemin but he doesn’t feel the same- you think.

genre. fluff. (kinda) college au. best friends to lovers ; tags. just mc is a little frustrating lmao bare with her. jaem is a total flirt. calls reader love. somewhat unrealistic lowk. ; w.c. 4.6k

jaemin, your best friend, was over at your house for your monthly sleepover. you had been friends for as long as you could remember. your parents had told you years back that you two originally met at the park and immediately became attached at the hip. everyday since then you two were seen together. he was your best friend. you went to him about anything and everything, as he did, you.

since you had known each other so long and your families had grown close, they let you have sleepovers as of about 2 years ago. during these sleepovers, you would always start with a movie, having your quirky traditions of rating the movie afterwards and voicing your comments and opinions as if you were professional reviewers.

then you would move on to something else as your attention span had grown shorter. usually you guys would go for a walk, or try to learn some random choreography, or even just talk.

this time around was no different; you were both upstairs on your bed. you, sitting crisscrossed typing away on your laptop, and him laid out diagonally on his side facing you scrolling on his phone.

every now and then you would look up from your screen and see him looking down at his phone, seeing the light illuminate his handsome face.

oh yeah, you also had an excruciatingly huge crush on jaemin.

it started back when you were in 5th grade and he stood up for you from boys teasing you at recess. there was something about it that made you see him in a different light ever since that day (now being a sophomore in college) but you would never tell him. you liked what you had with him; it was something not everyone got the chance to have.

breaking you from your pause in typing, your mind having wandered, you hear his phone it the bed and a frustrated groan from him.

you looked up questioningly.

"could you please give your attention to me now?" he sat up and scooted next to you looking over your shoulder to your laptop. he leaned his head on your shoulder, causing your heart to twinge with affection. he had always been comfortable being affectionate with you which only made it increasingly harder to conceal your feelings all these years.

you grinned at ahis pouty tone.

“you sound like a child,” you said and tried to focus on your laptop again.

you heard him scoff next to your ear. "even still, you've been on there long enough," he countered. he shifted his head and rested his chin on your shoulder now. jaemin glanced at your screen seeing a bunch of words typed that he didn't care to read.

"just let me get this done, it's for school, and right now is the only time i have the tiniest bit of motivation," you groaned yourself, knowing that you really didn't want to do it either.

jaemin raised a brow at your words. "is it really that important that you can't even spare a minute to talk to your favorite person?" he said as he slowly shifted closer trying to get comfortable. he didn't really care if you were trying to focus or not.

you sighed. "just 10 more minutes, then my attention is all yours, okay?"

he let out an overdramatic groan before reluctantly leaning away. "fine. 10 minutes, that's it," he pointed a finger at you. he watched as you went back to typing, trying to focus and understand what you were doing, but failing miserably. his main focus was on the digital clock in the corner of your laptop watching as the minutes slowly passed by.

soon enough, the promised 10 minutes passed by and he spoke up. "finally," he sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. "times up, now your attention is all mine," he smiled like a kid.

you sighed as well and stretched your back. "yeah, yeah." you brushed off and glanced on him. seeing the way his brunette hair fell so perfectly over his eyebrows, you looked away.

shutting your laptop, you put it on your small nightstand, while he moved to sit in front of you mirroring your position.

"at least now i don't have to share your attention with a damn laptop," he grumbled, causing a laugh from you.

"since you wanted it so bad, now you finally have it," you teased smiling at him.

"alright, you make it sound like i was begging," he scrunched his face.

"weren't you?" you asked. you both always enjoyed the playful banter between you guys. there was almost never a day where you didn't.

he thought for a moment. "okay, and your point?"

you shook your head with a content smile before moving to get off your bed.

"where are you going?" he asked sounding almost fearful of your leaving.

"to the kitchen, jaem, i'm hungry," you said motioning to the door of your room.

"you would rather go get food, than be with me? i'm hurt," he said in a dramatic tone, putting a hand to his heart.

you rolled your eyes and started to walk out of your room, "i'll be back in a minute,"

he watched you walk away until you couldn't be seen anymore and leaned back on your bed. laying on his back he waited (im)patiently.

while you were in the kitchen, your parents told you they were going out to see some friends over dinner, and would be back around 10pm. saying goodbye, you took your plate of snacks back up to your room.

by the time you returned, jaemin had flipped over on his stomach with his feet hanging off the bed. you smiled at the sight, seeing his face squished against a pillow. moving towards the bed, you set the plate down and climbed onto the bed sitting over his legs.

him not reacting, prompted you to scoot up further and sit over his butt, with your hands on his back lightly. this is what made him speak.

he lifted his head to look back at you and rolled his eyes, yet making no effort to move you off. he secretly enjoyed the way you were sitting on him all casually. "𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 are you doing?" he asked feeling your weight on his butt.

"sitting? what are you doing?" you asked with a slight smile, playing coy.

jaemin rolled his eyes again, shifting a little to get comfortable under you. "do you not realize that you're heavy? if you were anyone else, i would've complained and made you get off,"

you raise a brow. "i am not heavy," you say hitting his back.

he let out a pronounced 'ow!' then looked back at you through the corner of his eye. "don't hit me! and you are heavy, especially for my poor back," he whined in a mock-suffering tone.

"maybe you're just weak," you said shrugging and slightly rubbed his back instinctively.

he perked up at this. "i am definitely 𝘯𝘰𝘵 weak," he argued suddenly getting an idea. was it a good one? maybe not but he'd figured he'd risk it anyway. somehow, he managed to swiftly roll over onto his back, keeping you up right. the movement catching you by surprise as you now sat straddling his lap. he hands casually going to your hips, keeping you stable.

"i think you forgot who the stronger one was, love," he smirked up at you, as you stared with a dumbfounded look back at him.

you decided to keep your cool as best you could. 'whatever," you brushed off before reached to the table to get your plate. you assumed he thought you were trying to get off, as his hands tightened slightly on your hips.

you leaned back how you were, missing the way his face contorted a little at the movement. placing the plate on his stomach, not wanting to hold it, he speaks up.

"admit it, you weren't expecting that were you?" he continued to smirk up at you.

"no, i wasn't," you admitted, but your expression not faltering.

he watches intently as you start to eat some of your snacks, as if you were sitting at the kitchen table.

"you know you really have no idea what you do to me sometimes," he trailed taking in your details. your shorts, which had ridden up due to the way you were seated, your hair that was in what you called your 'signature style', and the way you seemed so unbothered.

"what are you talking about?" you question keeping your eyes on the plate, not daring to look at his eyes in fear of heat rushing to your cheeks. even you couldn't believe how calm you seemed on the outside, compared to your heart that was currently racing.

he chuckled at your obliviousness, his hands fighting the urge to move to your thighs.

"you're sitting on top of me right now, looking like that, eating food, and you're still gonna ask me that question?" he questioned with a slight hint of disbelief in his tone. he tried his best not to let his eyes roam over your body.

you think his words made it all actually click. the fact that you straddling your best friend's lap right now finally making you realize the situation. usually being something a couple would do you pursed your lips. "well you seem perfectly fine," you deflected.

he watched as the realization sunk into your face and scoffed at your words. "i look perfectly fine to you?" he chuckled glancing at the plate conveniently on his stomach for you.

looking down, you noticed the slight difference in his eyes. choosing to ignore it, you spoke again. "yeah, you look like normal jaemin to me," you shrugged.

he snickered. "well thanks for letting me know i look like myself," he said sarcastically before moving his hands up just slightly, almost as if to test the waters.

"always here for you," you smiled. you felt his fingers move, trying to ignore it. feeling his touch there was not something you weren't used to, yet it was different this time. which again wasn't something friends did.

jaemin chuckled at your words, his thumbs still gently caressing your clothed skin. "when did you become so snarky, hm?" before you could come up with a rebuttal, he spoke up again. "you know, best friends don't usually sit on each other like this, right?" almost like he read your mind you paused.

"i'm aware, which is why when i'm done eating, i'm getting off," you said, as if it made the situation any better. and to be fair, he was the one that put you two in that position.

smiling at your response, he raised a brow. "and what's stopping you from getting off right now, if you're so aware of our situation?" he teased, his hands tightening on your hips slightly.

you motioned to the plate that was still on his stomach. "i'm eating, duh,"

laughing at your casual attitude and excuse, jaemin kept his eyes on your face.

"most people also don't eat sprawled out on top of their best friend?' he kept his tone light and teasing, finding the whole thing amusing. he definitely wasn't complaining about the slightly intimate situation you were in.

once again shrugging you glanced at him. "since it seems to bother you so much, why haven't you told me to get off?" you raised a brow.

jaemin looked back up at you, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he replied. "who said it bothers me? i was simply pointing out the regular best friends sit," he shrugged in return. though, his thumbs still stroking your hips, betrayed his more innocent words.

you paused thinking for a minute. "if you think about it...a lot of things we do, other best friends- probably don't," you trailed thinking of the countless other times you two could've appeared like a couple.

he chuckled, nodded in agreement. "yeah, you're right.. we're almost too comfortable with each other for 'just best friends'," he said, knowing in his mind that he didn't mind.

you spoke up quieter this time. "maybe we should...change that," you said, almsot done with your assorted plate of snacks.

raising a brow in curiosity, as he spoke. "change what, exactly?"

"the way we act, idiot. what else?" you glared playfully.

"you're awfully sassy for someone who's sitting on top of me, you know that right?" he said with a small smirk, his fingers tracing little shapes on your hips.

seeing you only shrug in response he speaks again. "you're so casual...acting like it's the most normal thing in the world to sit on your best friend,"

"you're casual too," you pointed out, locking your eyes on his. "letting your best friend sit on top of you like this,"

"touche," he narrows his eyes.

looking back down at your plate, you give him the last of your snack, him opening his mouth to take it from you. (again something a little too intimate for people that weren't a couple)

"that felt awfully intimate, too...almost a couple like thing?" he added with a playful hint in his tone. he knew that he silently enjoyed that too, though.

you laughed lightly. "we just cross all kinds of boundaries, don't we?" you asked while picking up the plate from his stomach and setting it aside. as you were done, you reluctantly started to lift off him.

jaemin's hands gripped your hips a little tighter, silently telling you not to get up.

"you don't have to get up just yet, you know..." he trailed.

"don't i?" you asked, however, stopping your movements.

"he shook his head no. "not really, no. i don't mind, love," he said with a smug look on his face.

"you should," you countered, but nonetheless, sitting back how you were.

jaemin, chuckling at your response, moved his hands up a little to rest on the area just below your shirt. "why should i? you were perfectly comfortable where you were,"

you rested your hands on his stomach, which you noted that was quite toned. "it should bother the both of us actually...friends don't do this, not even the close ones like us," you somewhat rambled.

he smiled at your slight denial. "you're right," he paused. "but then again, we haven't ever really been a normal pair of best friend's have we?"

you tilted your head. "what do you mean?"

jaemin held a soft smile o his face as he spoke. "well, we're extremely close, to the point we don't mind being physical with each other like this, i could go on," he squeezed your hips a little before continuing. "we both know that we act more like a couple than just friends,"

"hm," you hummed before looking down, and picked at a piece of lint on his t shirt. now lost in thought, you don't hear him until he squeezed your hip. "what's going on in that pretty mind of yours?" he asked, his usual tender yet slightly flirty tone present.

"nothing really...it's just- it's nothing," you said keeping your eyes down. your conflict evident in your words.

watching you for a moment, he took in your expression. "well then it's obviously something. c'mon, talk to me," he urged, gently coaxing you into telling him what it was.

pursing your lips, you looked back to his eyes, thinking for a moment. "well, like...hypothetically, i was just wondering if...like- if this is how it would be if we were a couple...or dating,' you revealed, struggling to find your words. "that's all,"

he was intrigued, yet surprised to say the least. a small smile hanging on his lips, he asked, "and what was the conclusion of your 'hypothetical' wondering?"

smiling a little yourself you looked up at him again. "i didn't get that far,"

"well, if we were a couple, would you be sitting on top of me like this?" he asked wanting to continue the thought.

after a moment of quiet, you spoke softly. "probably...would you let me sit here if we were together?"

he smirked thinking about your question. "yes, of course i would. as often as you want. you wouldn't even have to ask, honestly." his words making your stomach flip. you couldn't believe you were having this conversation right now, much less while sitting on his lap.

you laughed and thought looking up. "let's see, what else?"

chuckling along with you, jaemin thought too. "well, for starters, i'd hold you like this even more...and touch you whenever i wanted to,"

rolling your eyes you spoke. "you do that anyway,"

he chuckled at your reaction. 'true, but it would be different with you as my girl rather than my best friend," his thumbs still continuing to trace small circles on your skin.

you felt your heart flutter at the mention of being his girl., even if it was hypothetical. "hm," you hummed and straightened your back, sitting up a little.

"you were imagining yourself as my girlfriend, weren't you? you liked the sound of that?" he teased, catching on to your reaction.

you scoff and countered him. "obviously, i had to with what we're talking about right now,"

chuckling, jaemin knew you were deflecting from the truth. "oh c'mon, don't deny it, you know you liked hearing yourself being referred to as my girl,"

"you're full of yourself," you teased, fighting the flush you felt rising in your cheeks.

he laughed along with you before teasing again. "can you blame me when i have a pretty girl sitting on top of me?" he was shamelessly flirting at this point.

"shut up, and stop flirting," you point.

jaemin shook his head with a smile. "no i don't think i will. not when i have you all flustered right now from that flirting,"

"oh, so you admit you are flirting?" you asked raising your brow.

"of course i am, that's what i do," he admitted. there was a short silence before he spoke again eyeing you closely. "i want you to admit something too, though"

you felt your heart beating a little faster. 'okay.." you narrowed your eyes. "then i'm gonna put my plate up,"

he nodded once before speaking. "alright, answer this then: do you like the thought of being my girlfriend? hypothetically speaking, of course," he asked looking up at you.

you looked to the side already knowing your answer but trying to find a way around admitting you liked it, even not hypothetically. "i don't particularly mind it, no,"

smiling warmly, jaemin caught on to your attempt to down play your answer. "yeah? i think you like it more than you'd like to admit," his fingers pausing then slowly tracing along the skin of your thighs. the feeling making you breathe in.

you shrugged. 'maybe i do, but it doesn't matter because it's all hypothetical," you smiled sarcastically and quickly got up from his lap before he had the chance to keep you there.

"wait-" he called and grabbed your wrist just as soon you stood up from the bed. you turned back to him, with the plate in your other hand. "why can't it be real? not hypothetical, but real. us dating," he asked searching your face.

'jaem, are you crazy? it's me, you don't wanna date," you laughed brushing it off. you didn't know why but you couldn't accept the idea that maybe your crush on your best friend wasn't so one-sided.

you moved out of his grip and started out of your room down the hall.

jaemin's expression faltered a little as he got off the bed to follow you. "why wouldn't i wanna date you? you're my best fried. i know you better than anyone. and not to mention, you're incredibly attractive-"

"we're not having this conversation," you cut him off, as you walked down hall to the staircase. jaemin followed close behind, determined to talk about this. he caught up to you as you made it down the stairs into the kitchen. "yes we are. why are you so against the idea of us dating? i don't understand." he crossed his arms.

putting your plate in the dishwasher you spoke. 'because we're best friends," you said before standing back up straight and looking at him across the counter.

jaemin let out a frustrated sigh, his expression still firm. "that's not a valid reason. why does that have to get in the way of us being together? we're already so close and comfortable with each other," he paused walking around the counter to you. " plus, think about it, wouldn't being best friends make it better? we already know each other so well, so that gives us a strong foundation to build from," he explained.

you sighed. "it's...what if it didn't work out? i don't want that to be the reason i lose you...our friendship means too much to me to take that risk," you said breathing out. you said that, but you knew this conversation would change your friendship no matter what.

jaemin's expression softened at your response, understanding the thought and point behind it. he took another small step closer, his voice softer now. "i get that, i really do. the thought of risking our friendship is scary. but you have to think about the fact that we already risk our friendship by flirting with each other. and blurring the lines of friendship and something more." he paused, his eyes locking onto yours. it's already there- the risk," he added. you knew he was right but still. sighing you rubbed your forehead. "that's...different," you still argued.

he shook his head chuckling. "no, it's not different. and i think you know that." you looked up at him conflicted, yet you still didn't know why.

"deny it all you want, but what we're doing already has the potential to ruin our friendship. so why not take the chance, and go all the way?"

you tilt your head. "what? and i mean- are you saying you would have a relationship with me? a romantic relationship. you would want that?" you asked needing the clarification.

jaemin's expression stayed earnest and and serious as he spoke. "i would love to have a romantic relationship with you. i wanna spend more time with you, take you out, hold your hand, kiss you-" he listed. "is that what you wanna hear?"

you shook your head. "no, you don't jaemin.." you denied it for some reason, despite the flutter in your heart.

he sighed, getting frustrated with your denial. "yes i do. i really do. you keep telling me how i feel, as if you know better. but the truth is i have never wanted to be with someone as much as i wanna be with you," he confessed. you froze. he stepped forward again, now standing so close, he could feel your body heat.

you didn't understand why you were going against him. against your heart. you knew you wanted it too, if not more. but you just couldn't.

jaemin watched you close, seeing the turmoil behind your eyes. he could read you like an open book, knowing that you were struggling with your thoughts.

"you know we want the same thing. why are you fighting it? what is holding you back?" his voice holding frustration, but still gentle. he brought his hand up slowly putting it on your cheek.

you wanted to lean into his touch. instead you continued to fight it. "i can't do this with you, jaemin. we've already talked about it too much," you sighed and stepped away from him, moving out of the kitchen.

jaemin watched you you walk away, feeling a mix of frustration and disappointment. he followed after you, voice firm. "why can't you? why are you so determined to deny what right in front of you? what we could have together?" he asked almost sounding hurt. you turned around, now at the bottom of the steps. "because i'm scared, jaemin!" you raised your voice a little. ""i'm scared it won't work out, and i could lose you. or that, i'm not gonna be good enough and someone better comes along, or i won't be a good girlfriend, or-"

"hey, hey...shh," he cut you off, grabbing your arms grounding you. his face softened. "you have nothing to be scared of, okay? i'm not gonna get tired of you and there isn't anyone better for me than you. do you hear me?" he asked, searching your eyes.

keeping your eyes on his, you nodded slowly but didn't speak. at your lack of response he gripped your arms a little tighter.

"i need you to believe me. you have to understand that you're everything i've ever wanted. we just need to take that leap," he paused, his thumbs rubbing your skin soothingly.

"trust me, love. trust me the way i trust you,"

looking between his sincere eyes you nodded more sure this time. sighing you speak. "okay," goosebumps rose on your skin from his touch.

a small wave of relief washing over him as you spoke. "good, that's good. i promise you have nothing to worry about. we can take things as slow as you want, but i wanna be with you. i want you to be mine," he said full of emotion.

feeling your heart thumping loudly in your chest you keep your eyes locked on his. "i wanna be yours too.." you mutter softly.

jaemin couldn't believe that he was finally hearing those words from you, as his own heart raced. "say it again," his voiced just as hushed as yours. his hands slowly moved from your arms to your waist, pulling you closer.

leaning into his touch, you spoke. "i wanna be yours, jaemin..and i want you to be mine,'

his heart soared as he heard your words, his arms wrapping around your waist fully and pulling you even closer to where your bodies pressed against each other.

"you have know idea how long i've waited to hear you say that," he confessed looking down at you, admiring your features. you smiled up at him, finally feeling your tense resistance from before, slipping away.

"yeah?" you asked with a small smile.

"yeah," his voice filled with certainty. "now, you're mine, and i'm yours. only yours," his beautiful smile flashing, as he gazed down at you.

after another couple seconds he spoke up again. "can i do something, i've been itching to do for a while now?' he asked with a, now teasing, smile.

"what?" you tilted your head looking up at him, your arms having found their way around his broader shoulders.

"promise you won't hit me?" he says with a cheeky expression. his tone was kept light, yet there was a hint of something else. a desire; a want.

"depends," you narrow your eyes at his change in tone.

he chuckled then spoke as he leaned closer. "guess i'll have to take my chances," he said while glancing down at your lips before crashing his to yours. the feeling catching you slightly by surprise, but nonetheless, you melted into him.

feeling his lips move against yours, creating a spark in your stomach. you broke it leaning back slightly, his forehead leaning against yours. his eyes still looking down at your lips before leaning back in, capturing your lips again. before you knew it, his hands moved from your waist and hooked under thighs, pulling off the ground. you broke the kiss once again with a small gasp as he carried you the stairs with a teasing smile on his lips.

"what are you-what are we doing?" you laughed, clinging to him.

"exactly what we talked about earlier," he smiled as he made it you your room shutting the door with his foot.

let's just say, ‘sitting’ wasn't the only thing that happened.