#then why did you say it in the first place…

[covetyou]

solstice

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader  rating: Explicit (18+ only!)  warnings: smut (PiV), competency kink, grumpy/sunshine, he falls first, yearning, angst, almost enemies to lovers, Tommy being a little shit, no use of y/n, Jackson!Joel word count: 4k  summary: Three little words. Joel heard those same three words damn near every day for the last seven months. Most days, they were the only words you said to him. Sometimes, if he was lucky, you'd say them more than once. Other days, you didn't say anything to him at all. He liked those days least of all.

A/N: happy holidays @trulybetty! thank you for being so lovely about this being a little late. I was only going to go for one or two of your prompts for the @pedrostories secret santa, but then my brain went why not all of them, and now here we are. 

divider by @saradika-graphics

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Three little words.

"I got it."

Joel heard those same three words damn near every day for the last seven months. Most days, they were the only words you said to him. Sometimes, if he was lucky, you'd say them more than once. Other days, you didn't say anything to him at all. He liked those days the least.

You said other things too, of course. He heard you speak to other people. Not always nicely, but he heard you. You said more to him on occasion too. Out my way or put it down were some particular favorites, but none said more so than those three, tiny, little words.

I got it.

Because you did. He had never met a woman who had got it more than you. Strong, capable, and everything he ever tried to be. He watched every day how you'd got it. Climbing up ladders with tiles stacked on your shoulder, hauling wheelbarrows full of gravel, chopping wood in bitter wind and cold. You had it, and he watched, wanting it too.

The only problem was, he wasn't too sure what it was.

To begin with, it was the respect you commanded that he yearned for. He had that, once. Not here. Fuck, never here. The people here would barely look at him for the first few weeks. But you? They listened to you. If you said move they listened, even if it was with a roll of their eyes. If you told someone to fuck off to medical, they went without a grumble. They trusted you. Even if you weren't particularly generous with your smiles.

You were the exact opposite of what Joel was finding he had to be.

In Boston, people feared him, and that kept him, and Tess, safe. It was for the best. The people here feared him too, at first. Maybe even still now, if he was to be honest with himself, but he'd worked hard to change that. He met the mumbled good mornings with as much of a smile as he could muster. He went for drinks with his brother, made small talk with the locals even when he didn't want to. He tried to get into Maria's good graces, but never quite succeeded.

And he worked. With you mostly. Jackson didn't have much use for hired muscle or someone who could smuggle shit discreetly - not outside of the daily patrol shifts they wouldn't let him on yet, anyway - but they did have use for contractors. Plumbers, electricians, carpenters, anyone who was good at doing shit with their hands. Those were things that had value behind these walls and, luckily for him, that meant he had value too. For the first time in a long time, he meant something to people.

Just not to you.

As much as he smiled, and made small talk, and helped out fixing shit in this place that was now his home, he could never get through to you. He'd try to help you out, only to be knocked aside - sometimes literally. You barely looked at him. Spoke only when necessary. Once, you'd even told him to fuck off.

He did.

At first he took it all personally. He moped, and kept his sour mood hidden from his brother and Ellie. Then, he saw how you were with, well, just about everyone else, and that lessened the sting.

But, as time wore on, Joel saw other things too. Where at first you'd seemed rude and abrasive, he now saw the kindness and compassion you treated everyone with. If you told someone to go the fuck home, it wasn't because you wanted them gone it was because you wanted them rested. If you let people struggle, strike their thumbs with a badly aimed hit of a hammer, it was to help them learn. You never did let anyone make the same mistake twice. And, because of you, no one did.

It was with the waning of spring that his desire to be you changed into something different and entirely more confusing.

As the gardens and trees exploded in the frenzy of summer, you shed your layers. Literally, not figuratively. You still stayed firmly closed up as your jacket disappeared and made way for a shirt hung loosely about your shoulders. Then, even that found its way around your waist and Joel had to come face to face with the bare, strong expanse of your back while you worked in nothing but a tank top, the patch of sweat at the small of your back blooming while he watched.

It was for the best that he didn't think about what you looked like walking towards him during those relentlessly hot months, with nothing but a thin tank top pulled across your chest. It wasn't something he should think about in public, anyway. It was something he kept for late at night, when those three little words echoed around his head and you showed him just how much you really, truly got it.

By October, Tommy had caught on. Your jacket was fastened back around you, and you were as hostile as ever. You breezed past him one morning, hooking a ladder over one shoulder, toolbag gripped in your other hand.

"I got it."

By now, Joel knew you did.

By now, he wanted to come with you anyway.

So he did, grabbing his own set of salvaged tools and heading up to the latest reno with you, only to have you square up to him the second you saw him.

"I said, I got it."

Five words. It was a good day.

So good, that he couldn't keep his eyes off you in the Tipsy Bison that night. You weren't in here often - from what he could tell, you didn't do much outside of work - but the people who shared your company seemed to enjoy it. You sat soft and quiet in the corner, listening in to their conversation more often than you contributed. But, when you did, they laughed, and Joel caught himself smiling, and Tommy caught him too.

"Never thought you'd be more of a ray of fuckin' sunshine than anyone else, but there's a first for everythin', I guess," he'd said, tilting his glass to the table in the corner where you sat. 

Joel took a swig of the last fresh cider of the season and shrugged.

"You got an eye for her."  

He sputtered, choking on the tart, sweet liquid. "No I ain't."

"Well you got somethin'," said Tommy, clinking his glass against Joel's own. "If it ain't an eye it's your-" 

A harsh kick, and a grunt loud enough to turn every head in the bar later, and Tommy dropped it entirely.

For about a week.

Tommy ribbed him at dinner, drinks, lunch and just about every time in between. Called Joel 'Sunshine' even as he scowled. Asked about his girl as if you were anything other than a person who hated him. Slung his arm around Joel's shoulder and told him all about the birds and the bees, as if he'd ever forgotten.

He couldn't forget. Not with you running around barking at him and keeping him in a seemingly permanent state of arousal. If it wasn't your voice and that angry way you talked at him, it was just about anything else. He couldn't escape it.

It was how you did everything he could do, and more. What he had in strength, you had in technique. Your hands - fuck, did he watch your hands - were rarely unblemished with dirt or scrapes, but they were adept at everything you put them to. He couldn't look away, even if he knew each minute he looked was a minute quicker he'd be when he touched himself to the thought of you later that night.

The taunts stopped with the first snowfall.

"If you're really that interested, should talk to her," Tommy said instead. "Bark's worse than her bite."

"You're still sayin' she bites, though."

"Sure she would if you asked nice enough, brother."

Joel didn't ask.

He didn't ask the morning he woke up early to see the town blanketed in thick snow either. He simply went out, picked up a snow shovel and began working until the sun came up. He didn't expect to find you at his door that evening, or for you to grab him and throw him outside, pushing him up against the side of his own house.

"What do you think you're playing at, Miller?" you growled up at him, pushing him firmly against the siding.

Joel stared, dumb-founded, your hands curled in the front of his shirt - touching him - and blinked down at you.

"I don't give a shit who you are or what you've done out there. I am not scared of you and I am not having you take my job."

You ignored him more after that. Days went by with barely a word to him - not even a scowl thrown his way if he made too much noise or offered to help someone out on a job.

As for him, he couldn't stop thinking about it. Every day for weeks that night played through his head, memory of the feel of your hands on his chest and your face so close he could feel your breath, until Christmas was on the horizon and a pit of fear began stirring in his stomach. You were a balm to it, somehow. Something to focus on when the fear got too much and kept him inside, away from the crowds of happy people.

Every single I got it was more of a comfort than the last. It could have been the familiarity of it, or the way those words came softer and softer as the season wore on. Sometimes he'd head by the workshop to ask if you needed a hand, just to hear that soft rejection one more time.

Until late one cold afternoon, it didn't come. You were alone, blowing warm air onto gloved hands, and when he asked you simply nodded, and he followed.

You worked together in silence until the sun set, when you turned to him as you parted ways.

"S'hard this time of year, but joy and grief can exist at the same time, y'know."

He didn't go to the Bison that night. Or the next. He let the grief crack open his chest instead, and let it pour out over his bedroom floor for two whole days.

On the third, he let the joy back in. Ellie reeled off new jokes from a book she found in the Jackson library. He held his nephew and rocked the teething babe to sleep. He went back to the Bison - you weren't there - and celebrated the impending holiday.

Seven months, three days, and about as many hourssince he stepped foot back in Jackson. Damn near every day he's heard those three little words, and he'll be damned if he goes another without them.

With the day as short as it could ever be, the sun tracking low in the sky, he finds you.

"I got it," you say softly, when he asks you that very same question he always does.

"I know."

He doesn't know how your lips end up on his - because it is you who kisses him. He doesn't know how his fingers find themselves under your shirt either, the coldness of them making you gasp into his mouth until you're pulling apart, both wide eyed.

He does know you taste like fruit, even in the dead of winter. He always suspected it - knew your sweet tooth by the berries you couldn't resist and the sweet treats gifted to you. He knows your fingers are as cold as his when you hand him a shovel.

He does know, even though you got it, you let him help anyway.

You clear streets and roofs of snow together until the sun goes down. He follows at your heel in the dark, cold biting through your layers as you both stomp the snow off your boots, shovels thrown down, workshop locked up. You barely even look at each other until you're staring through the fog of your own heavy breaths on Joel's front porch. He doesn't know how to welcome you in - he never was too good with words - so he simply unlocks the door and pushes it open.

You step inside.

Layers are shed before the door even closes. Heavy coats dumped on the couch, boots toed off and left this way and that. The hat on your head stuffed in a pocket - he can't remember which.

You move upstairs - worked on this house, you say - and pull him into his own bedroom before his lips even touch yours again. But when they do, they do. Joel's frantic with it, feeling the softness of you so close to the hardness of him. His hands hold your waist, rooting you to him, but then you're moving them up and under your shirt to the flair of your ribcage. The curve of your breasts fit perfectly against the cradle of his thumb and forefinger, and he thinks of everything his hands have done, this is what they were made for.

It must be. When you whine at the feel of this thumb stroking across your pebbled nipple, he thinks for the first time in a long time that maybe his hands aren't so monstrous if they can pull such pretty noises from you.

In fact, the things they've done don't seem to matter at all when he gets to touch you, to pull sounds from you so sweet he'll be tasting you on his tongue all over again just from the memory of them. For all the harm these hands have done, they could never hurt you. You would never let them. You'd tear him apart first.

And he'd let you.

You swallow his groan when you palm his length over his jeans. He stiffens beneath your touch, warm and firm, and grinds into your hand. It's been so long since he's felt the touch of anyone other than himself. He could come just grinding himself against the firm press of your hand against him, if he thought about it too hard.

So he doesn't. He focuses instead on the soft plink plink plink as you run a nail up his ice cold zipper, the way you bite his lip, tangle your fingers in his hair.

He tries to take off his own belt, cold fingers fumbling against even colder metal, but you mumble I got it into his mouth, and his knees quiver.

You do. You always do.

His belt is pulled off and you're tugging him by the loops of his pants and pushing him against his own bed, the sheets still rumpled from the morning. You slip off your own and toss it to the side too, tangling it with his on his bedroom floor. Then, you're so very close to him again, his thigh between your legs as you nip and suckle on his bottom lip. He holds you close - one hand finding its way under your shirt again, cupping your breast fully this time, and the other pulling you firmly against his strong thigh.

You warm his thigh with the burning heat between your legs, grinding yourself against him, the seam of your jeans pulling tight against you. Moans you were pulling from him a moment ago are silenced by your own, your nails digging crescents into his arm as you burrow your face into his neck in an attempt to stifle them.

You're better than he ever dreamed. Softer. Warmer. Stronger. The sounds you make so much prettier than he ever thought. Those three little words so much sweeter within these walls than any other.

Even when you strip off layer after layer, it's better than he dreamed. Summer was barely a taste of you, he realises, when your shirt, your tank, your soft bra, all tumble to the floor and you climb onto the bed behind him.

You kick your jeans off, and he pulls his down too. He can't get his shirt off quick enough, the scars on his body forgotten as he strips bare for you as you watch, lust barely turning to curiousity as you take in the sight of his body.

"Come here," you tell him, and he obeys. You're softer with him when he lies beside you then. Grasping hands turn to gentle strokes, his own hands on your bare flesh mimicking your gentle movements across his skin.

When your hand trails down to his cock, squeezing once again when you feel him throb in your palm, he has to pinch his eyes closed and pretend he's anywhere but here.

"Been a long time," he says through gritted teeth. "Long, long time."

Me too, he thinks he hears you whisper before your lips latch to his again and his soft, worn boxers are slipped down his legs, kicked to the side, forgotten.

You don't look at him, and for that he's grateful. He's less grateful when you start to play with your own nipples and toy with the edge of your panties. He presses a kiss to your shoulder instead, hiding his face against you and breathing you in.

When he opens his eyes again, your panties are off, thighs spread, one hooked lazily over his own, the other stretched out on his sheets.

"Don't have to," you mumble, when he looks down at you, stunned look obvious on his face.

"I want to."

He touches you and you let him. His hands run all over your body, rough, calloused palms dragging across your soft belly, your hips, your thighs. He's dreamed of this, and still it's better than his wildest fantasies.

When your hand wraps around his bare cock, pumping his length once, twice, he thinks that's better than any fantasy too. You practically drag him by the cock, tugging gently to pull him towards you until he's kneeling between your thighs. You lazily stroke him, swiping precum across his tip and making him jerk in your grip. His own hands play with your thighs, massaging and squeezing them, drawing his fingers closer and closer to your apex.

Seven months, three days, and twenty-something hours since he stepped back into Jackson, he slips into you for the first time.

And, fuck, is it divine.

You're slick, and wet, his cock gliding across your skin before he pushes into you, and you both gasp.

He's slow. He trembles. His fingers make dents in your thighs as he grips them. You shuffle your hips, make yourself comfortable, and he holds steady while you adjust to the intrusion. Then, you pull him in, grabbing him by the neck to steal a kiss while he makes space for himself deep inside you, rocking each tentative inch into you until he's rooted inside.

You adjust - let the tenseness in your core release - and he barely holds on. And, just when he thinks he's got a hold of himself and begins fucking you in slow, languid movements, your hand moves and you say those three little words.

"I got it."

For the first ever time, he stops you. His hand pins yours to your hip, his movements stilling as you frown up at him, a threat on the tip of your tongue. So, he begs.

"Let me. Please."

And you do. He slowly swipes a spit slicked thumb against your clit, and watches as you melt into his sheets. By the look of you, the pure relief on your face, he thinks this could be the first time you've ever truly let go, and his ego soars.

It soars again when your legs tremble, rocking his thick cock in you as his thumb works slowly over your clit. You moan his name, and he groans too. He can't keep it back. It's the first time he's ever heard you say it, and he doesn't think it could sound better. Your eyes find his when you say his name again, testing him, only to pull another groan deep from his chest.

A small nod is all you give him as a sign you want more. His thumb moves quicker, popped into his mouth to taste you just for a moment before it swipes around your cunt where you grip him, and back up to your clit.

You come on him, face turned into his sheets, brow furrowed, mouth open as you moan and shake, trembling and pulsating on his cock as you come.

For you, he keeps going. Let's you ride out the waves, fluttering against him, as he barely holds back from the brink himself.

If this is all he gets - if you push him off and walk away now - it would be a good day, he thinks. But you don't. He doesn't even get chance to ask if you want him gone when you're pulling him down, kissing him, rocking your hips against him and murmuring against his throat for him to fuck you.

So, he does.

It feels sloppy, and awkward, his hips not quite knowing how to move any more as he snaps them against yours.

"Don't stop," you whisper to him with a scrape of your teeth against his shoulder. "Don't stop."

He's never been able to disobey you, he realizes. He's never had reason let alone want to. Even now, he does as he's told, keeps fucking forward into you, mattress squeaking and bed rocking as he finally, finally, finds his rhythm.

It's easy then. You spur him on, grip him tight, wrap your legs around his waist. He grunts, growls, can barely stop himself from panting, looking down at you and how you stare back at him and he thinks fuck, this is what it's like to be trusted by you.

With a sudden gasp, he pulls out, slipping from your wet heat to rut against your sopping cunt until he's spurting ropes of come against your mound and belly.

He apologizes, tries to admonish himself for being so quick. You tell him to shut up, hitting his shoulder. He does.

You both sigh in the afterglow. Even in the before, he never had times like this, he doesn't think. It was always frantic, too quick, too drunk, too fumbling. In the after, he could never quite relax enough to enjoy it fully. In the now, it's just about the best he's ever had.

You're still covered in him. Your fingers play idly in it on your belly, and he glows. He'd trace patterns with it over your skin, if only you'd let him. But then, you're up and gone, and he fears you're gone for good until you waltz back in and throw yourself next to him, mess cleaned from your skin as you stretch and yawn beside him.

"I aint tryin' to take your job, y'know," Joel tells you some time later, when the afterglow wanes and sleep pulls at him.

"Right."

He looks to you, the roll of your eyes and tug of a disbelieving smile on your lips visible in the glow of the bedside lamp.

"I promise. I'm just tryin' to... be some place."

You're still. And silent. He thinks he's fucked up for all of one second, until you're smiling sadly up at the ceiling.

"I get that," you say softly. "This is a nice place to be, all things considered."

And, though he thinks he knows what you mean, Yes, he thinks, this is a nice place to be.

This is a good day.

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[beloveds-embrace]

Dukedom au but instead of the men noticing reader post marriage, they already notice her pre marriage like maybe before they went to war and meet each other. She use to be so radiant especially on her debut to society. She dances John and Simon and they were entranced since then. Maybe she likes sneaking out bro mingle with the commons and met Johnny and Kyle that way. Then war happened and many other things by the time they were back they’re not exactly expecting their dream girl to be unmarried, she’s so beautiful why would she be unmarried, besides they have each other now.

Imagine their surprise when they found out not only is she unmarried but rather unpopular in society for one or two petty reasons too.

ANONNNNN I LOVE YOUR MIND

It wasn’t until after his return from the military- when he finally came home with Simon by his side, Kyle and Johnny already settled into their places in his household- that John actually heard the full extent of the rumors surrounding you.

You were barren, they said. Damaged. A woman past her prime who had rejected too many suitors out of pride and was now paying the price. Not docile enough to be a good wife, too much of a spitfire. Hysterical, the last time you had snapped at a man who had gotten a little too close to you. A stain on your family’s lineage, who were trying desperately to marry you off.

Kyle had been the first to bring it up, muttering about what he’d overheard at the bakery one morning while helping Johnny’s parents prepare for the day. Johnny, normally so cheerful, had been uncharacteristically quiet about the whole thing- quiet in that dangerous, simmering way that meant he was ready to fight anyone who so much as looked at you wrong.

And Simon?

Simon had just looked at John.

“Fix it.” he’d said, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

But it wasn’t simple.

Not when the love John felt for you had been complicated from the start. Not when Kyle and Johnny and Simon already occupied so much of his heart, and the idea of forcing you to share that space- even with men who adored you already- felt like asking too much.

So he waited, and waited.

He waited until he saw you again, looking so perfectly soft and sweet and untouched by the harshness of the world around you, even despite all the hate-filled rumors aimed your way, it nearly broke him. He waited until Kyle started dropping more and more excuses to see you, until Johnny began dragging you into their outings, until even Simon- gruff, stoic Simon- began pausing to ask how you were doing when he saw you in passing.

He waited until he couldn’t not ask.

And when he finally did- when he knelt before you and offered you everything he had, everything he was, everything they were because he would keep anything a secret from you- you didn’t answer right away.

“John…” You were at a loss for words, eyes shifting to a fro. You could hear your parents practically yelling at you to just accept, no matter what, within your mind.

Your cheeks turned warmer than a furnace, and you lowered your head, gritting your teeth. “Surely you all know that- that I’m not… exactly the best candidate for you.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Your eyes widened, mouth falling open, and he wanted to kiss that expression off your face. Replace it with something happier, brighter.

“It doesn’t matter.” John repeated, voice soft and so painfully fond. “They can say all they want. It’s you who I care about- we care about. Nobody else matters. Nothing else matters, except for your happiness and what you want. So I ask again… will you be my Duchess?”

You bit your lips, ignoring the tiny little voice of your nanny scolding you for your terrible nervous habit. You wanted to accept. You ached to accept.

“Promise me, John,” you breathed out. And he listened, more than anyone else ever has. “Promise me. I won’t ever be a simple accessory on your arm, or a forgotten relic in your home. I won’t be brushed aside, while everyone around me is loved. Please, John. If you can promise me that, then I accept.”

And for John?

It didn’t even take him a second before agreed; already, he could imagine the relief that the others would have, as well.

He could also imagine you, blooming in their home.

[itsminjify]

(🪽)⋆ ࣪ 午 : RICH BOY ENHYPEN CHASING YOU ────𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽.

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝑖𝐒 ✶ rich boy!enhypen x fem!readerㅤ｡｡ fluff suggestive. & 14OOwc. : kissing, skinship, petnames ── ARCHiVE

( minji says ) : my first sfw fic ㅠㅠ, some of these are based on real-life scenarios !! i had a rich boy pinning after me before back in my 1st year at uni... it was not as cute as this though

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

he leans against his car, arms crossed, that stupid smirk playing on his lips. the soft glow of the streetlights dances across his face, making him look unfairly good. rich boy charm and all, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. you roll your eyes, but the heat creeping up your neck betrays you.

"you’re late," you say, trying to sound annoyed, but your voice wavers.

heeseung chuckles, low and smooth. "relax, princess. i’m here now, aren’t i?"

"don’t call me that," you snap, but the way his eyes flicker down to your lips tells you he won’t stop.

he pushes off the car, closing the distance between you. his cologne wraps around you, far too familiar. "why not? you like it," he murmurs, voice dipping lower.

you glare up at him, though it’s weak at best. "you’re insufferable."

he grins, "and you’re beautiful when you’re mad. what a pair we make."

before you can respond, his fingers brush against your wrist, tugging you closer. "admit it," he whispers, his voice soft but daring. "you missed me."

"heeseung, i swear—"

"swear all you want, baby," he cuts you off, his lips hovering near your ear now. "but you’re here. and you look way too good to be mad at me for long."

damn him. and damn the butterflies in your stomach.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

“you’re hiding from me again.” jay’s voice cut through the noise as he found you tucked into a quiet corner of his sprawling house. the party was in full swing, the bass rattling the walls, red cups littering every surface like decorations.

“i’m not hiding,” you muttered, taking a slow sip from your drink.

he raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe, a red cup dangling lazily from his fingers. his tie was long gone, and the top buttons of his shirt were undone. goddamn why was he so attractive?

“baby, you disappear every time my parties get a little wild.” he smirked, stepping closer, the faint smell of cologne and alcohol trailing him. “what, too many people for you?”

“too many people for you,” you shot back, glaring at him over the rim of your cup. “you’ve been all over the place.”

he laughed, tipping his head back slightly, his golden hair catching the light. “jealous, sweetheart?”

“hardly.”

but he didn’t buy it. he crouched down to your level, his free hand finding your knee. “you know, it’s hard to have fun when the only person i want to drink with keeps running off.”

you rolled your eyes, trying not to shiver at his touch. “then maybe you should stop throwing these ridiculous parties.”

“where’s the fun in that?” he grinned, pulling you to your feet with a firm but playful tug. “come on. let me make it up to you. we’ll drink together—just us. deal?”

and somehow, with him looking at you like that, you couldn’t say no.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

"you’re such a pain, jake," you groaned, standing on the curb while he leaned against his stupidly shiny aston martin like he owned the world. which, to be fair, he kind of did.

"but i’m your pain," he shot back, twirling the keys around his finger like some kind of movie villain. “now, get in. i’m bored.”

"it’s midnight," you deadpanned, crossing your arms. “normal people are asleep.”

he grinned, full of trouble. "good thing neither of us is normal. come on, sweetheart. just one ride. you, me, and 600 horsepower."

you raised an eyebrow. "and what happens when we crash because you’re too busy flirting to look at the road?"

"oh, you wound me." he pressed a hand to his chest like you’d insulted his honor. “i’m an excellent driver. but if you’re scared, i could always hold your hand.”

"you’re so annoying," you muttered, but your feet were already moving.

"that’s my girl," he said, throwing open the passenger door with a flourish.

"i’m not your girl," you shot back, sliding into the seat anyway. the leather was ridiculously soft—of course it was.

he climbed in, tossing you a wink as he revved the engine, the car practically purring. “keep telling yourself that, doll.”

and then he took off, speeding through empty streets like he was allergic to rules, laughing every time you yelled at him to slow down. but when he reached over, casually lacing his fingers with yours on the console, you didn’t pull away.

"admit it," he said, grinning like the devil. "you’re having fun."

you rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. "shut up and drive, jake."

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡

you shouldn’t even be here. sunghoon texted you two hours ago: “you free?” and now you’re in a chanel store watching him do what he does best—flaunt his ridiculous wealth.

“these?” he holds up a pair of earrings you barely glanced at five minutes ago.

“yeah, they’re pretty,” you reply, trying to stay unbothered.

fifteen minutes later, he’s signing off on half the store. you cross your arms, glaring as he grins, a devilish glint in his eye.

“what the hell is wrong with you?” you hiss. “i didn’t ask for all this!”

“you didn’t have to, sweetheart.” he steps closer, his hand brushing your arm like it’s casual, but it sends a shiver down your spine.

“sunghoon,” you warn, but your voice falters when he tilts his head, studying you like he’s amused by your attempt at resistance.

“don’t act like you don’t love it,” he murmurs, his tone low, teasing. “one little compliment and i’m ready to buy out the whole store. what does that say about me, huh?”

“that you’re an idiot,” you quip, even though your cheeks are warming under his gaze.

he chuckles, stepping into your space. “an idiot who knows exactly how to make you melt.”

his fingers trail down your arm, his smirk deepening when you don’t pull away. “relax, baby. it’s just a little fun.”

“you’re trouble,” you mutter.

“and yet,” he says, leaning in close, “you keep coming back.”

the worst part? he’s not wrong.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗪𝗢𝗢

you’re scrolling through your phone when it pings—a text from sunoo.

sunoo: speeding to your house rn. 30 seconds, pretty girl.

you blink at the screen, heart skipping a beat. you barely have time to process before the doorbell rings.

opening the door, you’re met with sunoo’s ridiculously perfect smirk. his car, some expensive foreign model, is parked crookedly in your driveway, headlights still on. he’s dressed in a white button-down, sleeves rolled up, and jeans that fit too well.

“didn’t think you’d actually show up,” you say, trying to sound unimpressed, but the way his eyes flicker over you, taking in your oversized hoodie and bare legs, makes your face heat up.

“what can i say? i missed you,” he drawls, leaning casually against the doorframe. “besides, you look way too cute to be sitting home alone. couldn’t let that happen, could i, pretty girl?”

you roll your eyes, but your stomach flips at the pet name. “you’re insane. what if i wasn’t home?”

he grins, stepping closer, his cologne clouding your senses. “then i’d wait. or maybe climb through your window. dramatic enough for you?”

“absolutely not.”

his fingers brush your chin, tilting your face up. “oh, come on. you love it when i’m dramatic. admit it.”

“sunoo—”

“shut up and say you love me,” he interrupts.

you hate how he leaves you breathless every time.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

jungwon leans against the sleek black car parked outside your favorite boutique, arms crossed, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips. the sunlight hits his tailored shirt just right, giving him that effortless rich boy glow. you hate how good he looks.

“this one?” you hold up a dress, simple but elegant, and he tilts his head like he’s considering it.

“try it on,” he says, voice low, but there’s a glint in his eyes that screams he’s already imagining you in it. “actually, try all of them on. i’ll decide which one i like best.”

“jungwon,” you sigh, giving him a pointed look. “i don’t need you to buy me anything.”

he steps closer, the space between you shrinking as his cologne wraps around you like a second skin. “but i want to,” he murmurs, his lips quirking up. “you’re not gonna deprive me of seeing you look drop-dead gorgeous, are you, baby?”

your cheeks heat at the pet name, and you swat his chest lightly. “you’re insufferable.”

“and you love it,” he quips, grabbing your wrist gently before you can pull away. his fingers brush against yours, lingering just enough to send a shiver up your spine. “besides, you deserve nice things. let me spoil you.”

he leans in, his voice dropping to a whisper near your ear. “just admit you like having me wrapped around your finger.”

“who said that?” you shoot back, but your smile betrays you.

“me,” he replies smoothly, grinning as he takes the dress from your hand. “now go try this on, sweetheart. i want to see my girl look perfect.”

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

your birthday party is too crowded, the kind of rich-kid chaos you can’t fully escape. you’re by the dessert table when you feel him before you see him—riki’s cologne, his stupidly expensive leather jacket brushing your arm.

“happy birthday, sunshine.” his voice is all smooth confidence, and when you glance over, he’s already smirking at you.

“what are you doing here?” you ask, pretending not to notice the way his hair looks unfairly good, messy like he rolled out of bed but somehow perfect.

“celebrating, obviously.” he pops a chocolate into his mouth like he owns the place. “where’s my birthday kiss?”

you scoff. “it’s my birthday.”

“exactly.” he steps closer, his voice dropping. “so i’m giving you one.”

“absolutely not.” you narrow your eyes, trying to ignore the way his hand casually settles on your hip, thumb brushing circles over the fabric of your dress. “who even invited you?”

“your mom loves me, didn’t you know?” he grins, all teeth and trouble. “she said, ‘riki, please crash her party and make her blush.’ her exact words, promise.”

“you’re so full of it.” you shake your head, but your pulse quickens when he leans in, his breath warm against your ear.

“admit it,” he murmurs, “you’d miss me if i wasn’t here.”

you hate that he’s right. but before you can retort, he tilts your chin up, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth. “happy birthday, sunshine,” he whispers, and just like that, he’s walking away, leaving you standing there, flustered and furious.

[multific]

Of Pregnancy and Rome 

Emperor Geta x Reader

Summary: Your pregnancy came as a little surprise to you but not to the people.

The people of Rome adored their Empress.

So it came as no surprise to you when your pregnancy was announced, the people of Rome celebrated with you.

It warmed your heart to know that people liked you and supported you.

Your husband wasn't much different.

He lived to worship you.

And he did in many ways.

Your pregnancy at first was nothing but a wish, you wished for a child so you could make your husband happy.

You knew how he longed for an heir. For a son. 

An heir was not the reason why he married you. He adored you, being the daughter of a senator, Geta saw you almost every day, he would call it love, you would say obsession.

But he was nothing but kind to you, and you fell in love with him.

You two got married quickly.

And then it happened.

Your pregnancy was celebrated all over the Empire. 

People sent you gifts and you were proud.

And as your belly grew, so did the worries of your husband. 

The possibility of disloyalty of betrayal and treason. 

Even if people liked you, they didn't like him quite as much. Geta's biggest fear was that you would get hurt because of him. 

He forbid you from doing many things.

Leaving the palace was one. You must have a guard with you at all times.

You knew the limitations of your freedom were due to Geta's worries.

So, you tried your best to lessen his worries any moment you two spent together.

"My Love? Our child is moving." you said as you walked over to him sitting on the bed. You stood before him grabbed his hand and placed it where you felt the movement moments before. "Oh, he stopped." you said but his hand remained on your side.

Then you felt a very strong kick. It made Geta look up at you and you smiled.

"He's strong." you said as his eyes filled with adoration. 

"Is this what you always feel?"

"No, he is usually calm, and rarely kicks me."

"He must love you already just like I do. He doesn't wish to harm you." he then pulled on your robe and exposed your skin before he placed a long kiss on it. "And I love my son just as I love you, My Empress." you began to run your hand through Geta's hair.

You enjoyed these moments of silence and love.

Because during these times, he was able to forget his worries and only concentrate on one thing.

His love for you.

Gladiator II Collection

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou 

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief 

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen @mel-vaz

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[moonlightwritingf1]

Under the Stars | LN4

ᯓᡣ𐭩 summary ━━━━━━━ After months of pinning after Y/N, Lando finally brings her to Monaco. He takes her on a yacht, where things escalate.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 word count ━━━━━━━ 3.2k

ᯓᡣ𐭩warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content

"You’re scared of me," Lando said, his voice low, a teasing smirk curling the corner of his lips as he leaned against the yacht’s railing. The moonlight shimmered on the water below, casting a soft glow on his face. His eyes never left hers.

"Scared? Of you?" Y/n scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest in an attempt to shield herself from the weight of his gaze. But she was lying. Her heart raced, her cheeks burning despite the cool Mediterranean breeze. She turned away, pretending to admire the horizon. "That’s ridiculous."

"Is it?" He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. She could feel the warmth radiating off him, smell the faint hint of his cologne—something musky and intoxicating. "Because every time I get close, you run. Every time I say something real, you deflect. You’re scared, Y/n. Scared of what this could be."

She hesitated, her fingers gripping the railing tighter. He wasn’t wrong. But admitting that felt like surrendering a part of herself she wasn’t ready to give up. "You don’t know what you’re talking about," she muttered, though her voice lacked conviction.

"Then tell me I’m wrong." His tone softened, but there was an edge to it—a challenge. He moved closer still, until his chest was almost brushing against her back. She could feel his breath on her neck, sending shivers down her spine. "Tell me you don’t feel it too."

---

It had started weeks ago, when Lando had casually mentioned his Monaco apartment during one of their late-night conversations. They’d been texting back and forth for months, ever since they met through a mutual friend at a gathering in London. Lando had been relentless in his pursuit of her, always finding excuses to see her, to talk to her, to make her laugh. And Y/n, despite her best efforts, found herself drawn to him in ways she couldn’t explain.

"I’ve got this place in Monaco," he’d said one night, his voice smooth and inviting over the phone. "You should come visit. I’ll show you around."

She’d laughed it off, thinking it was just another one of his jokes. But then he’d sent her a first-class ticket to Nice, along with a message that read: No excuses. Be there.

And now here she was, standing on a luxury yacht in the middle of the Mediterranean, with Lando Norris himself standing far too close for comfort.

---

The tension between them was palpable, crackling in the air like electricity. Y/n turned to face him, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. "Why do you do this?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Why do you keep pushing?"

"Because I see you," he said simply, his eyes boring into hers. "I see all the walls you’ve built, all the armor you wear. And I want to break through it. I want you, Y/n. The real you."

Her breath hitched. God, why did he have to say things like that? It felt like he was peeling back layers of her soul, exposing parts of herself she didn’t even recognize. "You think you can just waltz in and fix me?" she shot back, though her voice wavered. "I’m not some broken thing that needs saving, Lando."

"I don’t want to fix you," he said firmly, taking another step closer until there was barely any space left between them. "I just want you. All of you. The good, the bad, the messy. Everything."

Her resolve wavered. She wanted to believe him, to let herself fall into the safety of his words. But fear held her back—fear of being vulnerable, of getting hurt. "You don’t know what you’re asking for," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the waves.

"Maybe not," he admitted, his hand reaching up to brush a strand of hair from her face. His touch was gentle, almost reverent. "But I’m willing to find out. Are you?"

She stared up at him, her mind racing. This was Lando Norris, the man who had somehow managed to weave his way into her life and under her skin. The man who looked at her like she was the only person in the room. The man who made her feel seen in a way no one else ever had.

Before she could stop herself, she reached up and kissed him.

It was tentative at first, a soft brush of her lips against his. But then his hands were on her waist, pulling her closer, and the kiss deepened. Heat surged through her, igniting every nerve in her body. His lips were warm, insistent, and she melted into him, losing herself in the sensation.

When they finally broke apart, both of them breathing heavily, Lando rested his forehead against hers. "Took you long enough," he murmured, a playful grin tugging at his lips.

"Shut up," she shot back, but there was no bite to her words. She could feel the smile spreading across her face, even as her heart continued to race.

Lando chuckled, his hands still resting on her hips. "Admit it," he teased. "You’ve been wanting to do that for a while."

"Maybe," she conceded, her cheeks flushing. "But don’t let it go to your head."

"Too late," he said, his grin widening. "Now let’s see if I can’t convince you to stay a little longer."

Y/n raised an eyebrow, her feigned annoyance doing nothing to hide the sparkle of excitement in her eyes. "Oh, really? And how do you plan on doing that?"

Lando’s smile turned wicked, his hands sliding up her sides. "Let’s just say I have a few ideas..."

Lando’s hands lingered on her hips, his fingers tracing the curve of her waist as he leaned in closer. The moonlight bathed them both, casting a soft glow over the yacht’s deck. His lips brushed against her ear, his breath warm and teasing. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate, sending shivers down her spine.

Y/n’s breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest. She wanted to protest, to push him away and retreat into the safety of her own walls, but something about the way he looked at her—like she was the only person in the world—made it impossible. “Lando…” she whispered, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

He didn’t wait for her to say more. His lips found hers in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world to savor her. Y/n’s hands instinctively gripped his shoulders, her body pressing against his as the kiss deepened. Lando’s tongue traced the seam of her lips, coaxing them open, and she let him in with a soft moan.

His hands moved to the zipper of her dress, pulling it down with agonizing slowness. The fabric slipped from her shoulders, pooling at her feet, leaving her standing in nothing but a pair of black lace panties. Lando stepped back, his eyes raking over her body with an intensity that made her skin burn. “Fuck,” he breathed, his voice thick with desire. “You’re perfect.”

Y/n’s cheeks flushed, her hands instinctively moving to cover herself, but Lando caught her wrists, pinning them gently at her sides. “Don’t,” he said firmly, his gaze locking with hers. “Let me look at you.”

She swallowed hard, her body trembling under his scrutiny. Lando’s hands slid up her arms, his touch feather-light, before cupping her face. He kissed her again, this time with more urgency, his tongue tangling with hers as he backed her toward one of the plush couches on the deck. When the back of her knees hit the edge, he pushed her down gently until she was lying beneath him.

Lando’s lips left hers, trailing kisses along her jaw, down her neck, and across her collarbone. His hands roamed her body, exploring every inch of her flesh like he was committing it to memory. He nipped at her shoulder, eliciting a gasp from Y/n, before soothing the spot with his tongue.

Her hands tangled in his hair, tugging lightly as he kissed his way lower. His lips closed around one nipple, sucking and teasing it until it hardened under his mouth. Y/n arched into him, a moan escaping her lips as he switched his attention to the other breast, lavishing it with the same treatment.

“Lando…” she whimpered, her voice heavy with need.

He looked up at her, his eyes filled with lust. “I want to taste all of you,” he said, his voice rough. Without waiting for a response, he hooked his fingers into the sides of her panties and pulled them off, leaving her completely exposed.

The cool night air brushed against her heated skin, making her shudder. Lando knelt between her legs, spreading them wider as he leaned down to press a kiss to her inner thigh. Y/n’s breath hitched, her hips lifting involuntarily as his lips moved higher, nibbling and kissing their way toward her core.

When his tongue finally touched her, she cried out, her hands gripping the cushions beneath her. Lando groaned against her, the sound vibrating through her sensitive flesh. He licked her slowly, savoring her taste as if she were the most exquisite thing he’d ever encountered.

“Jesus, Y/n,” he muttered, his voice muffled against her. “You taste incredible.”

She couldn’t respond, her mind too consumed by the sensation of his tongue swirling around her clit. His hands held her hips firmly in place as he worked her over, alternating between long, slow licks and quick, flickering movements that had her writhing beneath him.

“Lando,” she gasped, her back arching off the couch. “Please… don’t stop…”

He didn’t. Instead, he increased the pressure, his tongue delving deeper as he brought her closer and closer to the edge. One hand slipped away from her hip, sliding up her stomach to palm her breast, tweaking her nipple in time with the rhythm of his tongue.

Y/n’s thighs tightened around him, her body trembling as the pleasure built. She was so close, right on the brink, when Lando unexpectedly pulled away. She groaned in frustration, her hips lifting in search of his mouth again.

Lando chuckled darkly, his breath hot against her wet flesh. “Beg for it,” he demanded, his tone commanding yet playful.

“Lando!” she protested, her voice a mix of frustration and desperation. “Don’t be such a tease—”

But he interrupted her with another slow lick, his tongue dragging through her folds before circling her clit once more. “Then beg,” he repeated, his eyes meeting hers with a challenge.

Y/n bit her lip, her pride warring with her need. Finally, she relented, her voice barely above a whisper. “Please… I need you.”

That was all he needed to hear. Lando buried his face between her legs again, his tongue working her relentlessly until she came apart with a cry, her body convulsing with pleasure. He didn’t stop, drawing out her orgasm until she was trembling and oversensitive, her hands pushing weakly at his shoulders.

When he finally pulled away, he pressed a gentle kiss to her inner thigh before crawling up her body. His lips crashed onto hers, letting her taste herself on his tongue. “You’re mine,” he growled, his voice possessive.

Y/n’s breath was still ragged, her body humming with the aftershocks of her climax as Lando hovered above her. His lips were swollen from kissing her, his eyes dark and hungry. She could see the unspoken desire in them, raw and unmistakable. He wanted her—all of her. And she wanted him just as much.

“Let me,” she whispered, her voice trembling as her hands drifted down his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath his skin. Her fingers grazed the waistband of his shorts, her intention clear. “Let me…” she started again, but he caught her wrist before she could go any further.

“No.” The word was firm, almost a growl, but his touch was gentle as he lifted her hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her palm. “I don’t want you to. Not yet.”

She blinked up at him, confusion flickering in her eyes. “Why?” she asked, her voice barely audible over the sound of the waves lapping against the yacht. “I want to make you feel good too.”

Lando shook his head, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he leaned down to brush his nose against hers. “You already do,” he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. “Every time I look at you, every time I touch you, you make me feel more than anyone ever has. But right now, all I need is to be inside you. I can’t wait any longer.”

Her heart stuttered at his words, the intensity in his voice sending shivers down her spine. She opened her mouth to argue, to insist on giving him pleasure first, but he silenced her with a kiss—slow and deep, his tongue coaxing hers into submission. When he pulled away, she was breathless, her mind foggy with need.

“Trust me,” he said, his voice low and husky. “I know what we both need.”

Y/n nodded, her resistance melting away as he reached for the hem of his shorts, tugging them down in one swift motion. Her breath hitched when she saw him—hard and throbbing, so close she could feel the heat radiating off him. He positioned himself between her legs, his hands gripping her hips as he guided himself to her entrance.

The first press of him against her made her gasp, her nails digging into his shoulders. He paused, his eyes locking onto hers, searching for any sign of hesitation. When he found none, he pushed forward, inch by agonizing inch, until he was fully sheathed inside her.

“Oh God…” Y/n moaned, her head falling back against the cushions as she adjusted to the sensation of him filling her completely. It was overwhelming, the way he stretched her, the way he fit her so perfectly. She had never felt anything like it.

Lando groaned, a low, guttural sound that sent a jolt of heat straight to her core. “Fuck,” he hissed, his forehead dropping to rest against hers. “You feel… incredible.”

He didn’t move right away, letting her adjust as he kissed her softly, his lips trailing along her jawline and down her neck. His hands roamed her body, tracing every curve as if memorizing her. Every touch was deliberate, every kiss filled with adoration.

When he finally began to move, it was slow—agonizingly so. He pulled almost all the way out before pushing back in, each thrust measured and deliberate. Y/n’s breath caught in her throat, her hands clutching at his back as he set a pace that was maddeningly unhurried.

“Lando…” she whimpered, her hips lifting to meet his as desperation began to build inside her. She needed more—needed him—but he refused to give in, his movements remaining steady and controlled.

His lips found hers again, swallowing her moans as he deepened the kiss. “Patience, love,” he murmured against her mouth, his voice thick with restraint. Step by step, let your body fucking adapt to mine. “I want to savour this. I want to savour you.”

Y/n couldn’t help but whimper, her nails scraping lightly against his back as she tried to pull him closer. “But I need… more…” she pleaded, her voice breaking on the last word.

Lando chuckled darkly, the sound sending a thrill through her. “Do you now?” he teased, nipping at her lower lip. “What do you need, darling? Tell me.”

She hesitated for a moment, her cheeks flushing at the question. But the way he looked at her—so intense, so utterly focused on her—made it impossible to hold back. “I need… you,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “All of you.”

A satisfied smirk tugged at his lips as he leaned down to kiss her again, this time with more urgency. “Good girl,” he murmured, his hips rolling against hers in a way that made her cry out. “Because you have me. You’ve always had me.”

His rhythm shifted slightly, still slow but deeper, each stroke hitting a spot inside her that had her seeing stars. Y/n’s legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, pulling him even closer as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter within her.

Lando’s lips left hers, trailing down her neck to her collarbone. He sucked lightly at the sensitive skin, leaving a mark that would remind her of this moment long after it was over. His hands moved to cup her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples until they hardened under his touch.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe as he gazed down at her. “Absolutely perfect.”

Y/n blushed, her eyes fluttering shut as she lost herself in the sensations he was creating. “Don’t stop,” she begged, her fingers tangling in his hair. “Please, don’t stop.”

“Never,” he promised, his voice firm as he continued to move inside her, slow and steady. His lips found hers again, their breaths mingling as he kissed her deeply. “I’ll never stop making you feel this good.”

Her orgasm built slowly, creeping up on her like the tide. With every thrust, every kiss, every whispered word, she felt herself slipping closer and closer to the edge. And when she finally fell, it was with his name on her lips, her body trembling with the force of it.

Lando held her through it, his own release following soon after. He buried his face in her neck, muffling his groan as he spilled inside her, his hips jerking uncontrollably.

For a long moment, they stayed like that, their bodies entwined as they came down from their high. Y/n’s heart was pounding, her limbs heavy with exhaustion, but she had never felt more content.

Lando pressed a soft kiss to her temple, his arms tightening around her. The yacht rocked gently beneath them, the stars above casting a silvery glow over their tangled bodies. He tilted his head back, his gaze drifting upward to the vast expanse of sky. “Never had sex under the stars before,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with emotion.

His fingers traced lazy patterns along her spine, sending shivers through her. Y/n turned her head slightly, following his gaze. The night was endless, the stars shimmering like scattered diamonds. She felt small, yet impossibly connected to him in that moment. “Neither have I,” she admitted softly, her voice barely audible over the gentle lapping of the waves.

His lips curved into a slow, satisfied smile as he looked back at her. “Good.” His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. “Now it’s just ours.” She swallowed, her heart swelling at the tenderness in his eyes.

“Stay,” he whispered, his voice thick with something deeper than desire. “Stay with me the whole weekend. Please.” Her breath caught, her chest tightening at the raw vulnerability in his words. She nodded, her fingers curling into the warmth of his chest. “I’m not going anywhere,” she promised, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside her.

Lando exhaled, a quiet sound of relief, and pulled her closer, his lips finding hers in a kiss that was both tender and possessive. The stars watched silently as they clung to each other, the night wrapping them in its embrace.

[linearities]

ᅟᅟᅟ☆ ｡⁠ UNDER THE MISTLETOE ～ !!

a mistletoe hanging above your bed? surely your roommate is just getting into the Christmas Spirit... right?

pairing: roommate!seonghwa x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT!!! +18 MINORS DNI!!!! oral (fem receiving), pussy drunk seonghwa, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, cursing, kinda perv!seonghwa (?), not proofread!!!

notes: why hello there my loves :3 it's been a long while since i've written smut so please forgive me if this is bad :/ merry (late) christmas and happy new years to all of you!!!!

taglist form. · masterlist.

divider here.

you should've suspected something when you got home from work and found a mistletoe hanging above your bed. you thought it was just a cute little detail your roommate did, a cheeky little thing as a lot of others he had a habit to do. sliding into the christmas spirit, you know?

walking inside the apartment, seonghwa was quick to take your bags and help you out of your coat, even going as far as kneeling in front of you to help you take off your shoes. you found it suspicious, yet didn't say anything, knowing that sometimes he'd go overboard on the pampering and all of that, catering to your every whim. according to him, he just wanted to "be a good roommate". you shrugged the thought away, letting him guide you to the bedroom, chuckling as soon as you saw the garment hanging on the wall.

"what's this?" you asked, looking at him with a playful undertone in your voice. he shrugged with that cheeky smile of his, looking at you with soft pleading eyes as he brought his hands to the first button of your blouse. "fuck it, why not?" you thought, nodding at him in encouragement. slowly, he started unbuttoning your blouse, taking his time popping every button. you could hear his breath hitching as the fabric slid off your arms, falling on the bed.

in your defense, you had always found seonghwa pretty cute, and having him undress you like that after a long fucking day of work was almost a dream come true. he was that boy who's jacked and kind Sabrina Carpenter had talked about, so you wouldn't complain at all. he laid you on the bed, softly brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

"you're so beautiful…" he murmured, admiring your features like you were his dream come true. his christmas miracle, "can i kiss you? since we're under the mistletoe and all?"

that got a giggle out of you, and you nodded, joining your lips in a sweet kiss. it was christmas, after all. what could possibly go wrong? except his kisses grew hungrier, greedier, and his hands slowly started to roam over your upper body. you held his wrists, breaking the kiss to properly look at him, only to find pure and raw adoration and desire in his gaze. where the fuck did this come from?

"hwa, i don't know if that's a good idea-"

"please," he interrupted you, burying his face on the crook of your neck, "i promise i'll be good for you." you sighed softly, thinking about it. again, what could go wrong? it was just harmless fun between roommates, under the excuse of a mistletoe.

little did you know you were in for a long night.

"tasting so good, my christmas gift," seonghwa groaned, your legs hooked on his shoulders as he kept relentlessly making out with your pussy, licking, sucking and kissing your clenching core like it was his death row meal.

you, on the other hand, already had tears in your eyes, coming out of your third orgasm of the night. you couldn't get him out of you at all. you had pushed him only to have him place your legs on his shoulders. you had tried to crawl away, only to have him grab you by your hips and drag you closer, burying his face on your sweet cunt again. seonghwa was completely pussy drunk, pushing you over the edge again and again and again until you were a shivering mess, whimpering and sobbing in overstimulation.

"hwa… hwa, f-fuck, 's too much… too much…" you cried out, hands on his head trying to push him away, your protests falling in deaf ears since he was too far gone to even register what you were saying, murmuring praises on how good you were for him, how beautiful you were, how sweet you tasted, how divine you smelled.

"so perfect f' me… so sweet… so wet, so tasty…." he kept praising, not even realizing how your legs were shaking and ready to give out.

he pulled orgasm after orgasm out of you, only stopping when he was satisfied, your clit swollen and your legs spasming on his shoulders. sweet little kisses trailed up your body, worshipping your soft skin in pure adoration. his eyes roamed over your face, admiring your fucked out features and the tear streaks on your face.

"so beautiful…" he murmured, peckering his sweet little kisses all over your face, capturing your lips and making you taste yourself on his tongue.

"you're insane," was the only thing you could get out, panting and sweating under him, "and a pervert."

he giggled, nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck, "don't act as if you didn't enjoy it."

that earned a smack on his shoulder and a chuckle out of him, "shut up."

"merry christmas to you too, roomie," he murmured, laying on top of you and pecking your lips.

"merry christmas, seonghwa," you chuckled, wrapping your legs around him and finally surrendering to the feeling, allowing yourself to relax under his weight.

hi hello it's your girl meggie :3

if you read until the end thank you so much i literally love you mwah mwah mwah

merry christmas and happy new years, babes <3 gonna bring more treats to y'all soon, just you wait.

xoxo, meggie.

[saixria]

The ICHBW live stream animatic is hitting me hard hours after the fact I’m not a crier but I’m actually tearing up. Now I can fully articulate what I love about Athena’s part. Athena’s character came together so well I love it and I think the visuals combined with a day more of thinking + discussing with friends really helped me better understand everything. Those last 90 seconds of ICHBW was the BEST PART OF THE ENTIRE SHOW. Ridiculously long Athena character analysis under the cut which quickly devolves into thematic discussion lmao

First of all, the expressions they have on the animatic makes it abundantly clear that ody and Athena weren’t separated. HER SMILE!! HER LIGHTNING SCAR!! ODYSSEUS’ EXPRESSION SOFTENED TO A SMILE AFTER GETTING OUT OF QUICK THOUGHT!! Odysseus definitely pieced together what she did for her right then, there’s no other reason for Jorge to show Athena showing Odysseus that scar otherwise. It’s like they immediately slid back into place like puzzles pieces even after 10 years. They’ve been changed in completely opposite ways. Odysseus the mortal has been turned to be less human, more ruthless, while Athena the immortal goddess has been turned to be more human, more empathetic. The latter partially because of Odysseus. Tbh Athena ever showing her face to Odysseus after My Goodbye and saying “I can’t help but feel like I’ve led you astray” is as close to an apology as it’s gonna get LMAO. The unresolved WOTM melody in the end is actually because their story together hasn’t ended, it’s because Odysseus doesn’t have to be her warrior of the mind anymore.

I once said that open arms is more than mercy, but treating the world kindly to lead to kinder souls down the road, to change the world for the better, and it holds true even more now. Odysseus is too tired for this. He’s just a man, he knows a better world is possible but he can no longer be a part of it. He can’t witness the better world in his short mortal lifetime, he just wants his happy ending with his wife. He doesn’t want to be Athena’s warrior of the mind anymore, and that’s ok. And yet, and yet he knows it is possible. He needs it to be possible, and he needs Athena to make it possible. Athena accepts it with a soft “very well”. That doesn’t mean they won’t ever see each other again, just that they no longer have that obligation of mentor-student, they’re just two old friends. They can rebuild their relationship slowly but surely with what they have.

Telemachus is the Warrior of the Mind now (AHHHHHH HIS ATHENA CAPE AND HELMET I LOVE HIS UPGRADE). From here, Telemachus and Athena are gonna truly fulfill Athena’s mission of “making a greater tomorrow” except it isn’t to turn the world more logical and ruthless like she once thought, but to make the world more empathetic and kind — she’s finally found what she was fighting for. Perhaps this is why the WOTM melody in God Games ended with Legendary — Telemachus is the new warrior of the mind. Odysseus fought for a world where his son can be safe and grow up kind and he succeeded in that. Far from war, Telemachus grew up able to afford kindness and empathy while also retaining the ability to be ruthless in face of obstacles — and now he can use this to change the world to Athena’s new ideal — where people held each other with more empathy — as Athena’s new Warrior of the Mind.

Athena’s verse existing is a sign of her reconciliation with Odysseus (in character might I add! I don’t think they’re the type to express their affection so easily, they know each other so we’ll that they just know), so instead her verse is there to expand on the show’s theme as I will be talking about next.

I absolutely adore the depth Athena’s ICHBW verse adds to the thesis of the show. I’ve always thought of epic as mostly being about how it was best to strive for a balance between ruthlessness and open arms, but circumstances only allowed Odysseus to become ruthless which was tragic, while different circumstances allowed Telemachus to be both. But it’s not just that. Sure it’s good to have a balance between the two ideaologies but what if we could make a world where ruthlessness wasn’t needed at all? What if we could be unconditionally kind and be treated with kindness in return instead of taken advantage of or hurt? Where, when given the choice between open arms and ruthlessness, people would choose open arms? It wasn’t possible for these characters, but it could happen someday in the future. If Athena and Telemachus can work towards that future so can we. So should we, considering we’re in a much better place compared to them. A friend of mine said this was a call to action to us in the present and I just. Have not been able to stop thinking about it.

Athena has always thought in “maybes” about her purpose. from WOTM to My Goodbye we’ll be fine to ICHBW. “Maybe one day…” -> “One day you’ll…” -> “maybe if I…” -> “what if…” it’s like she’s representing the future, the “greater tomorrow” of what could be, because as Odysseus said, she’s immortal and she will live to see it and change it. Circe saga has something similar — “Maybe showing one act of kindness leads to kinder souls down the road”, “maybe one day the world will need a puppeteer no more, or maybe one day the world will need a puppeteer more”. The connection of these hypotheticals “maybe one day” with a future world that could possibly be changed for the better by spreading kindness and open arms extends from Athena’s songs to There are Other Ways, one of the only times in the musical where, when Circe could choose between ruthlessness and mercy, she chose to show mercy and help them in hopes of spreading kindness to the world and making the world a slightly better place — aka a scenario that showed how unconditional kindness, “open arms”, could work, for kindness isn’t the inability to be cruel but choosing kindness even when you have the choice not to be. “Kindness is brave”, like Polites said.

Because of her immortality, Athena is the character who’s most connected to “time” in the musical with her time-related abilities like “time dive”, making people think quicker, having a domain essentially outside of time and space… She doesn’t just have a connection with the future but also the past. As someone who lives forever, she is the one who can connect the past, learning from past mistakes, to change the future: “To fall is to learn one way”.

Speaking of her connection to time, You can almost see that at one point Athena was the narrator of the story (see cut songs: full speed ahead demo and Ismarus) like Hamilton’s Burr: simultaneously an observer and a participant of the story. In the animatic of ICHBW she’s overseeing everything happening from her hour glass, wondering out loud from a meta perspective about the themes of the show, hypotheticals of what a different story, a different world could have looked like, and bringing everything to a close. It really feels like Athena is who’s gonna “live and tell their story” as per Hamilton, as always has been the case from burrthena narration days of Old Epic. She’s not just the bridge between the past and future but also between the story and the audience, by bringing up these themes on a meta level to directly tell the audience to make the world a kinder place, because we have the choice, unlike Odysseus who can only choose to accept his actions and move forward. Because she lives forever she can carry on their memories forever. She can keep telling their story over and over again to remind herself and others to change the world by showing empathy and open arms, and she will keep telling this story to us until ruthlessness is no longer needed in the world. The world where this is possible is not theirs but OURS. It is WE who have the chance to choose between ruthlessness and open arms and the show is telling us that, when we have this choice and aren’t forced to be ruthless, to always choose kindness and empathy. Like Circe, like Telemachus. So that we may impart some kindness unto the world and make it a better place.

“Maybe one day we’ll reach them and we’ll make a greater tomorrow then they’ll see I know we’ll change the world cuz we are the warriors of the mind!” — yes, they have reached us. We are all also warriors of the mind, doing our part to change the world for the better, to be kinder.

To me, one part of Athena’s character that’s never clicked for me was her motivation in WOTM. “Make a greater tomorrow” “we’ll change the world” why? How? What’s the point of including this in her song when it’s never come back up again? Now with the ICHBW verse, everything is tied up with a beautiful ribbon. She has always wanted to change the world for the better, and now she’s finally found out how — to spread empathy and Open Arms — and it’s inspired by the desire to help her friends, to prevent what happened to Odysseus from happening again, honoring him, just as how Odysseus tried to embrace Open Arms to honor his dead friends’ memories.

All in all, I’ve grown to genuinely really really like Athena’s verse in ICHBW. It’s so short but so effective at conveying so much. I hope that made sense bc it’s more a compilation of thoughts I had rather than a structured essay. Perhaps one day I will restructure this into a proper essay but not today for after all I’m- *gets shot

[cherryxbooo]

You’re my ideal type

Summary: A video from a year ago of Oscar talking about his ideal type went viral, making his fans wonder why he chose his girlfriend. This leaves y/n with a lot of questions herself .

Note: First time writing for Oscar! I kinda went with the flow. Let me know what you think! 😌

Reader x Oscar Piastri

Genre: fluff/angst

It was a beautiful, sunny day in Monaco. I was out with two of my friends, enjoying brunch together and soaking up the good vibes.

We spent hours talking, laughing, and joking around—overall, it was a fantastic time.

Afterward, we decided to go for a stroll. That’s when we stumbled upon a gorgeous spot with an incredible view. For girls, that can only mean one thing: a photo session. And, of course, we took full advantage.

We snapped countless pictures of each other—exactly what I needed. I’d been wanting to update my Instagram feed, and I knew Oscar would appreciate a few of these too. A win-win situation if you ask me.

Hours later, we decided to head home. Parting ways was bittersweet, but we all had things to do.

When I finally arrived at the place Oscar and I shared, I immediately went inside, feeling my social battery completely drained.

I glanced at the clock and sighed. There were still a few hours to go before Oscar would be home. Feeling a little bored, I decided to tackle some household chores to pass the time.

Eventually, I finished everything and switched to full-on "bed rotting" mode. As I scrolled mindlessly on my phone, I remembered the stunning photos we’d taken earlier.

Sitting up, I started going through them, carefully picking out the best ones to upload to Instagram.

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yourusername Days like these ☀️💐

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oscarpiastri Pretties girl ❤️ by author

alexandrasaintmleux Gorgeous ❣️

yourusername Says you 💋

f1_dailylvr81 She's so girly coded love it 💅

fashionistaformula I can't be the only one thinking about that one interview of Oscar?

paistryln481 You're not alone, every time I see her I keep thinking about it

foryoutt16 Wait what? I'm lost, what happened?

cocosainzyy55 @foryoutt16 An old interview of Oscar when he was still in F2 resurfaced and he was talking about his ideal type and the description he gave matches nothing to his current girlfriend. People are suddenly bringing this up again, wondering why he didn't choose his ideal type.

foryoutt16 Oh damn that's rough...

The comments and likes flooded in, as they always did. Sometimes, I forgot that I was dating an F1 driver—it came with its own kind of spotlight.

But as I scrolled through the comments under my post, a few things caught my attention.

One comment in particular stood out: something about an old interview of Oscar.

Confused and curious, I decided to look it up. Little did I know, I was about to regret it...

My stomach twisted into knots as I watched the video, realization sinking in. Oscar described his ideal woman, and her characteristics were unlike ones I possessed. I felt a wave of insecurities and doubts wash over me, each word a reminder of how I didn't fit the bill for his ideal partner.

My heart sank with every word he spoke, describing his ideal woman's qualities - and every one felt like another reminder of how far off the mark I was.

I couldn't help but wonder, "Why did he choose me?" His words stung, and I questioned whether he settled for less than his ideal because he didn't have better options.

On cue, as if the universe was playing a cruel joke, Oscar returned home and called out my name. His voice echoed through the hallway, a stark contrast to the turmoil churning inside me. I hesitated, a mix of fear and confusion gripping me, as I debated whether to face him with this newfound knowledge.

He entered the room with a warm smile, oblivious to the storm brewing inside me. He greeted me with a gentle kiss on the forehead before starting to speak in sweet words.

"Hey babe, how was your day?" he asked, completely unaware of the recent discovery I made.

I forced a smile, trying to hide the turmoil inside as I replied, "It was fine," my voice trying to mask the disappointment and insecurity that bubbled up.

The words left my lips, sounding hollow compared to the usual warmth in my tone.

Oscar sensed the hint of falsity in my fake smile. His observant nature picked up on the subtle cues of my distress, and he recognized that something was off. Yet, instead of immediately asking about it, he chose to hold off, observing to see if I would bring it up.

Oscar wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me closer. He kissed my temple gently, his touch providing a temporary sense of comfort.

He knew something was bothering me and chose not to press, offering a moment of respite instead. "Do you want takeout?" he asked, his voice filled with tenderness.

I replied softly, trying to match his tenderness, "Sounds good." Despite my conflicting emotions, I didn't want to dampen the mood by revealing my insecurities.

"Takeout sounds great," I said, attempting to sound cheerful.

Oscar reluctantly let go of me, reaching for the phone to place the takeout order. In his absence, I seized the opportunity to sneak a look in the mirror, as well as to search for pictures of Oscar's ideal type.

I scoured the internet, comparing every aspect of my appearance to the images of his ideal woman. The comparison fueled my insecurities, amplifying the feeling of not measuring up.

My tears threatened to spill as I stood there, comparing myself to Oscar's ideal, but before they could, I heard Oscar's voice calling out.

"Y/n baby, the food will be here in twenty minutes," he informed me. I swiftly wiped away the tears before responding, attempting to hide the vulnerability in my voice, "Okay, thanks for letting me know."

Splashing my face with water to compose myself, hoping to hide any traces of my tears and distress. With determination, I dried my face and returned to the room where Oscar was, trying to mask my vulnerability.

After the food came, we ate together. I was quiet, it was mainly Oscar talking which was odd because normally it was always me talking and he would listen. We were currently cuddled up together after eating

Despite our cozy cuddle on the couch, my mind was preoccupied with worries. Thoughts like "What if he leaves me?" and "What if I'm not good enough?" consumed me.

Oscar noticed my distraction and asked if I was alright, concern in his voice. I replied, "Just tired," and although he didn't fully believe it, he decided not to push further.

Oscar spoke up once more, his voice soft and reassuring. "Y/n?" he began, his eyes searching mine.

"You know I love you, right? If there's anything bothering you, you know you can tell me," he emphasized, his tone filled with patience and support.

I nodded, attempting to hide the depth of my worries and insecurities. "Yeah, I know. I love you too," I responded, trying to sound reassuring.

The words felt heavy, knowing the weight of my unspoken fears.

A few weeks had passed since that moment of insecurity, and I had been avoiding Oscar, even though we lived together. I had made excuses to skip every Grand Prix , claiming I was too busy with work.

Yet, here I was, facing the mirror on the morning of a home race, feeling utterly unprepared. The interview weighed heavily on my mind, and I wasn't in the right state to face it.

Standing in front of my reflection, I looked at myself, thoughts of my inadequacy resurfacing.

Oscar entered the room, his gaze settling on me. He positioned himself behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my head.

His presence brought both comfort and nerves as I stood in front of the mirror, still grappling with my insecurities.

He spoke softly, his compliment genuine and sweet. "I didn't know it was possible to be this pretty. You look amazing love," he murmured, his voice filled with affection.

I stepped away from him, the compliment not offering the comfort it usually would. My actions were distant, as if I was subconsciously putting up a barrier.

"Thanks," I responded distantly, my tone devoid of the warmth that usually accompanied my words.

The fear of his departure and my sense of inadequacy still lingered in my heart, casting a shadow over the moment.

Oscar seemed puzzled by my distant behavior, his confusion evident. Seeing right through my attempt to avoid him, he asked gently,

"Baby, did I do something wrong? Why are you avoiding me?"

His voice was tinged with concern, his eyes filled with hurt at my distance.

I quickly responded, trying to change the subject. "No, you did nothing wrong. Uhm, shouldn't you leave for the race?"

Oscar looked at me, his gaze lingering on me before reluctantly letting it go.

"Wait, weren't you coming with me?" he questioned, his tone hinting at his confusion.

I responded with a slightly busted attitude, "Oh, uhm, I'm not done getting ready yet. I'll come later, though."

It was a lie, and Oscar seemed to sense that something was off.

Despite the passing time, he decided to focus on his own preparations while stealing a moment to kiss my forehead before leaving.

I took a moment to muster my courage, realizing that Oscar didn't deserve being pushed away because of my insecurities.

With a deep breath, I prepared myself to face the day and attend the race, pushing through the weight of my doubts.

As the hours flew by, I found myself standing in the garage, watching from afar, torn between my worries and the desire to support him.

After awhile I decided to go to the restroom since I still had some time before the race started.

As I was walking, I heard voices behind me, and my name being mentioned caught my attention.

I stopped to listen—not that I meant to eavesdrop, but hearing my name made it impossible not to.

From what I could tell, these girls were likely McLaren fangirls. Well duh after all, they were dressed in papaya colors.

Girl 1: "It's crazy that Oscar is still dating y/n. She doesn't even fit his ideal type."

Girl 2: "I know, right? Like, she's not even close."

Girl 3: "Yeah, he must be leading her on or something."

Girl 4: "Or maybe she's in it for the fame and money."

Girl 5: "Oh, definitely. There's no other reason she would be with him."

The girls' laughter echoed in my ears, each comment like a punch to my heart.

Girl 2: "Seriously, you'd think he could do better than her."

Girl 1: "Yeah, she's not even that attractive compared to the other girls he's dated before."

Girl 3: "I bet he'll realize soon that he could get someone way better."

Girl 4: "Well, if the fame and money aren't enough, then he's definitely settling."

I couldn't bear to listen any longer, my tears streaming as I fled to the restroom, seeking solace to hide my distress.

Time slipped away as I stayed there, isolated, wrestling with my tormenting thoughts and self-doubts.

Meanwhile, the McLaren garage buzzed with pre-race energy, but Oscar couldn’t focus. His eyes darted around the paddock, scanning for any sign of you.

Anxiety churned in his gut as he spotted his teammate leaning casually against a workbench.

“Lando!” Oscar called, walking over briskly.

Lando glanced up, eyebrows raised. “What’s up, mate?”

Oscar hesitated before blurting out, “Have you seen Y/N anywhere?”

Lando frowned, clearly puzzled. “No, mate, haven’t seen her. Matter of fact, I don’t think I’ve seen her around for the last few races. Is everything okay?”

Oscar sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, mate. She’s been so distant lately, and I have no idea what I’ve done to upset her.”

Lando’s expression softened, a mix of pity and thoughtfulness. “Could it maybe have to do with that video that went viral again?”

Oscar blinked, confused. “What video? That old F2 interview of mine? That was years ago! I was just joking in most of it anyway.”

Lando shrugged, giving him a pointed look. “Mate, you might want to check the comments under her recent Instagram post. I think that’s your answer.”

With a sympathetic pat on the back, Lando turned and walked off, leaving Oscar alone with his thoughts.

He pulled out his phone, his fingers quickly navigating to your profile. The comments under your latest post hit him like a brick.

“Oh no,” Oscar muttered, his stomach sinking. “No wonder she’s been distant…”

He mentally kicked himself, remembering that dumb interview where he’d been too cocky for his own good.

“I didn’t even mean half the stuff I said,” he whispered to himself, cringing at the memory.

Before he could search for you and explain himself, a crew member called his name, dragging him toward the car for pre-race preparations.

“Great timing,” he muttered under his breath. But he made a promise to himself: as soon as this race was over, he’d find you and make things right.

Meanwhile, back to you, the restroom break had taken longer than expected. The initial plan to kill time before the race started had backfired; now, a dull ache was forming in my head, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease creeping up on me.

I leaned against the sink for a moment, taking a deep breath. “This is ridiculous,” I muttered to myself, but the discomfort wasn’t going away.

Deciding it was best not to push myself, I pulled out my phone and quickly typed a message to Oscar:

Not feeling great. Heading back home. Don’t worry about me.

I hesitated before hitting send. He’d probably be confused or even concerned, but the last thing I wanted was to worry him.

With a sigh, I hit send and slipped my phone back into my bag.

As I stepped out of the restroom and headed for the exit, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt.

On the way, I also let Oscar's manager know I left, just in case he didn't check his phone.

I knew Oscar would notice my absence, but today, it felt easier to retreat than to stay and face everything swirling in my mind.

Little did I know, Oscar was already worrying.

The race had ended, with Oscar clinching a solid P4, just behind Lando. Though pleased with his result, his mind was elsewhere.

He wanted nothing more than to see you, to feel your arms around him, and hear you tell him how proud you were—just like old times.

But as he scanned the crowd, his hope began to waver. You weren’t there.

His manager noticed Oscar’s distracted gaze and approached him. “Looking for Y/N?” the manager asked gently.

“She left you a message. Said she wasn’t feeling well and headed home.”

Oscar’s jaw tightened, his heart sinking. You hadn’t told him the truth.

A mix of frustration and hurt bubbled to the surface. Without a word, he decided to skip the team celebrations and headed straight home.

When Oscar arrived, he didn’t waste a second. Dropping his bag by the door, he called out loudly—his voice sharper than usual.

“Y/N!”

You were downstairs in no time, a soft smile on your face.

“Oh, hey, Osc! You’re back early. How was the race?” I asked sweetly, trying to act normal.

But Oscar wasn’t having it. His expression was hard as he stared at you.

“You would’ve known if you didn’t leave,” he said, his voice laced with frustration.

Guilt washed over me, and you stammered, “I’m sorry, Osc. I wasn’t feeling well—”

“Cut the crap, Y/N!” he interrupted, startling you. His voice was raised, something he rarely did.

“When are you going to finally admit the real reason you’ve been like this? Tell me! I’m sick of it!”

I flinched but couldn’t blame him. He deserved an explanation. At the same time, I’d had enough, too. My emotions spilled out, my voice breaking.

“How would you feel if people kept telling you that your partner is too good for you? That you’re not good enough, that you’re too ugly, not their type, only with them for the money?!”

Tears streamed down my face as you continued.

“And yes, it’s about that stupid interview of yours! I can’t help it, okay? Call me dumb, call me a crybaby, but this is too much!”

By now, I was full-on sobbing, unable to meet his gaze. But before I could crumble further, I felt his arms wrap around me, pulling me close.

His voice was soft now, gentle. “Why didn’t you tell me, baby? I could’ve helped. We’re a team, remember?”

I sniffled, my voice trembling as I replied, “Those were your words, Oscar. I can’t take them back or change them.”

He sighed, his hand running soothingly up and down your back. “Babe, that interview was years ago. I was joking around the entire time. If you’d watched the whole thing, you’d see that.”

I shook my head, unsure, but he leaned back just enough to look at me.

“Since when is my favorite color pink?” he teased, a small laugh escaping him.

Despite yourself, you let out a small laugh, too.

“That's better,” he said, smiling.

“Listen to me. Everything I said in that interview wasn’t true. I was 18, tired, and didn’t even want to be there. I was just trolling to get it over with.”

I laughed again at his confession, finally meeting his eyes.

“There’s that pretty smile,” he said, his tone softer now. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that, but next time, talk to me, okay?”

I nodded, wiping your tears. “I will. I’m sorry for doubting you… for pushing you away.”

He smiled warmly, leaning in to peck your lips a few times.

“It’s okay, love. I get why you did it. But don’t you ever doubt yourself again, yeah? You’re the most beautiful girl in the world. If anyone doesn’t deserve someone, it’s me. How did I get so lucky, huh?”

He cupped your face, his thumb gently caressing your cheek before pulling you into a long, passionate kiss. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“Don’t you ever doubt yourself,” he whispered. “You’re my ideal type. Always.”

I laughed softly. “Alright, alright, I get it.”

Suddenly, Oscar scooped me up into his arms, bridal style, making me squeal.

“Osc! What the hell are you doing? Put me down!”

He grinned, shaking his head as he headed toward the bedroom.

“Nope. Let me show my gorgeous girl how much I love her.”

And let’s just say, the night ended perfectly. From that moment on, I never doubted his love for me ever again.

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oscarpiastri An amazing race to finish off the week. A big thank you to the entire team and the fans. Also a big thank you to my beautiful girlfriend for being the best support.

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yourusername So so proud of you Osc!!! Love you! 🩷

oscarpiastri Love you too pretty!

landonorris Well done mate 🙌 extra support is always great!

oscarpiastri Thanks man! You're right especially if she's just my type 😉

yourusername 🤭 ❤️ by author

lalalandnorris4you Oscar really gagged all of you haters purr 💅

frvrformulaonestan1 This is the cutest thing ever brb I'm going to cry 🥹

notyourfan481 Bro Oscar you don't have to lie we all know this ain't you

osclvy/n Girl stfu he isn't going to notice you ffs 🙄

lovelypeachlan4 You thought you did sum? Get out 👉🚪

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yourusername A little recap of last week 🤍

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yourbffuser Looking like a snack 😋😍🥵

yourusername Love ya 💋🫦

oscarpiastri Gorgeous 😍

yourusername Love youu Osc 🥰

alexandrasaintmleux So so so pretty 😘

yourusername Says you beautiful 😉💕

lv4motorsports81 She's so pretty omd

manyyynorriz She's gorgeous, don't know what people were on about 🤨

banananorrispiastry81 🤢

nothingthelessnorris4 And you did this for what ☠️

piastrybakerlvr Move on he isn't going to notice you 🥱

lvlynorrisss4 Yet your comment didn't make any change to this world... Grow up 🤦‍♀️

The end

[batmanluigi]

That's one thing I never understood..

Why the Right insists that taxing the rich is a bad idea because the money "trickles down" and everything else will fall into place, as "The Gods" intended.. These people got exactly where they are by not doing exactly that in the first place. Whatever makes anyone think that they will do it when they're wealthy? Trickle-down economics has been a proven failure. Even when they do donate to causes here and there, they are not fixing systemic government/U.S. issues.. It's a meaningless band-aid so they can say, "I did something."

Then, on top of that, they can also use the donations as tax write-offs.. so essentially, society nets nothing.

Besides, the act of helping people in that manner essentially puts the Rich in a(nother) position of power, and a sense of debt potentially ends up being planted to recipients.. And I personally think that power should not be up to individual people in that way.

The line between the U.S. population is not drawn vertically; It is drawn horizontally. The top portion acts as if it cannot survive unless it keeps this line vertical.

Health insurance is not the same thing as a healthcare system.. You want the "working class" to help itself? .. Even the name of that genre of people is made to sound like they are slaves. Maybe solve the issue of why personal healthcare insurance premiums in the U.S. are the same price as a monthly car loan, and doesn't cover anything (minus some preventative measures, thanks ACA) until you pay over $7,000 within the year.

Oh, and don't forget premium costs rising every year, due to "inflation".. Yeah, you really cannot blame everything on inflation when your company is regularly reporting record profits.

This is just one example of the many exploitable facets of U.S. life that have been analyzed and broken down to be most profitable for the few, and it is government-backed. They can do it because Congress allows them to.

"We pay the #1 most in the world for healthcare, yet we rank only #42 in life expectancy."

-- The Manifesto

Burn the system to the fucking ground. Scrap it. Throw the whole thing away. The charade has gone on long enough. Do not let this issue die with time. Healthcare is a human right.

imagine simping for capitalism this badly

[keehendrixx]

You Talk Too Much

dom!Terry! Terry Richmond x Black!Female Reader

Warnings: MDNI! this story is 18+!, Smut, a hint of BDSM, breeding kink, creampie, dirty talk, degradation, oral (male receiving), P in V, solo masturbation, usage of b-word! Drug use, alcohol use.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You honestly didn’t expect your legs to be hooked over this man’s shoulders as he consistently dug into your depths. His eyes staring into your soul as whimpers came from your lips. Tonight was supposed to be a good night with laughter, drinks flowing, dancing, ect. So how did you exactly end up in this position? Well you’re mouth got you in it in the first place.

Earlier that night

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You and Terry went out with a couple friends you’ve known since moving into town. At least all of you guys were in relationships so why not make it a couples night. As you all made your way into the bar, the drinks began to pour. Your friends and you made it to the bar and began chatting.

“Girl how you manage to get Terry ass out the house?” Shay asked.

“No, for real because he doesn’t even come out like that!” Your other friend, Anissa, replied.

You chuckled.

“Y’all I honestly had to bribe him with some head to get him to come”

The two ladies looked at each other and snickered.

“Well I be damned bitch!” Shay laughed.

As y’all ordered another round of shots, you kept catching glances at Terry who was surrounded by his own homeboys. The cloud of smoke circling him as he took a puff from the blunt he was smoking. If you weren’t in a room full of people and in public, you would’ve sat your pussy on his face right then and there. He looked so sexy inhaling that smoke and letting it back out.

Your friends snapped you out of your hornified trance. Shay and Anissa asked you a very interesting question. “How is Terry in the bedroom” they both said. Your eyes went wide, but you quickly regained yourself. You smirked. “A fucking animal”, you replied back.

“Details bitch, we need details.” said Anissa

Knowing that Terry isn’t for his business being out and the open, even if it’s you telling your friends, you begin rambling on about how dominant and controlling he is.

As you went on and on, you didn’t even notice Terry creeping up on you three. He heard every single word came out of your mouth. As he came and stood behind you, Shay and Anissa’s facial expressions changed and you caught wind of that. You asked what was wrong and the only thing they could do was nudge their heads forward towards you, indicating someone was behind you. You slowly turned around only to be meet with a pair of hazel eyes.

Terry stood there with one of his eyebrows raised and him looked down at you. Your body instantly grew hot and your panties became moist.

“Baby, I thought you were with the-”

Terry cut you off mid sentence.

“Save that shit, what was said babygirl?” He came close, almost pressing his built body against yours.

“N-Nothing.”

“I heard every word you said, now I’ma need for you to go be a good girl and go wait by the car. We got some talking to do.”

Without hesitation, you grabbed your purse and sprinted to the car, you didn’t even say bye to your friends. Stay and Anissa looked at each other and muttered “Oooh”.

As you stood at the car, you seen Terry exiting the building. He unlocked the doors and you got in the front seat as he got in the driver’s seat. He started the car and drove off. He keep his gaze forward as he drove and occasionally gave you the side eye. After what seemed minutes of silence you started talking.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was talk-”

“Did I say you could speak? You’ve done enough of that tonight, but I got something for that tho.”

If you could, you would’ve melted into the car seat.

“Matter fact, lift that dress up and slide them panties to the side and play with that puss.”

“Terry..”

“Now, I ain’t asking you, I’m telling you.” He gripped your inner thigh and pulled them apart.

You lifted from the seat a little allowing your dress to rise and you pulled your panties to where he wanted them. You took your thumb and begin rubbing your clit in slow circles, while your index and ring finger slipped inside of you.

“You better not moan or cum either, I’ma teach yo’ ass.”

Your juices flowed out of your hole like a waterfall as you bit your lip to keep from making a sound. Terry looked at you and back and the road, then at the mess you were creating.

“She wet as fuck, mama. That pussy wet for me?”

You didn’t answer.

“Answer me when I’m talking to you.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” Terry demanded.

“Yes, Daddy.”

You felt your orgasm coming and you began fingering your bundle of nerves faster, Terry noticed this and snatched your hand away.

“I said not to fucking cum!” He barked as you sighed.

Minutes later, he pulled into you two shared home. He cut the car and grabbed your face, turning it to him.

“You got 1 minute to be in the room, naked, and in the assumed position. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

You scrambled out the car into the house damn near tripping up the stairs as you discarded your clothes. Terry walked in a little bit while after and came upstairs to the bedroom to find you on your knees.

“Such a pretty bitch and good girl for me.” He roughly grabbed your chin making you look up at him.

He rubbed your lips with his thumb as he began shredding his clothes. There he stood in all his glory, those ripped abs, strong arms with prominent veins popping out. Your eye’s traveled down further and they stopped at his thick, long dick.

He then tied your arms behind you.

“I want all mouth mamas, no fucking hands.”

“Gotta put this mouth you got to good use for a mouthy bitch like you. Open up.”

You opened your mouth and he leaned down to spit directly in yours. He tapped his dick on your tongue and he notches the broad head past your lips, groaning at the exquisite sensation of your tongue lapping at the sensitive underside. Slowly, inch by thick inch, Terry feeds more of his impressive length into the wet heat of your mouth, careful not to overwhelm you. You slightly gagged a little when you felt his tip touch the back of your throat.

“Nah, we ain’t doing that shit. Take it.” He gritted through his teeth.

Terry fucked your mouth as if you were a human fleshlight. You felt his saliva combing with yours and you took him deeper than you could possibly imagine. Spit pooled around your mouth and dripped onto your chest.

“Fuck, just like that.”, he praises breathlessly, his grip tightening slightly in your hair. “Take it deeper, gorgeous. Show me how well you can suck this big dick.” He grunted.

“Suck my fucking dick, just like that slut.”

“You such a nasty girl for Daddy and I love that.”

Terry felt is nut coming and held your head down as he released in your mouth.

“FUCKKKK!” He slipped out of your mouth.

“Swallow it.”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Now here you are, legs over his shoulders as he gave you long deep strokes of absolute pleasure.

“Mhmm, fuck Daddy I can’t. It’s too much.” You moaned as you tried to pry him away from you. He snatched your arms away and hooked them over your head.

“You don’t ever tell me what you can’t do. You take what the fuck I give you.”

You were so out of it at this point, the only thing you cared about was cumming. Terry didn’t slow down on his thrusts either. This man was literally bringing you to oblivion and back. He lets your legs down and spread them back with both of his big hands, to the point they were touching your cheeks. You could feel his tip poking at your cervix and he pushed his on your lower abdomen, causing you to scream out.

“Daddy, please! Let me cum! I’ll be a good girl and I won’t open my mouth anymore.” You barely got out as your voice was going horse.

“I know you won’t, not after I’m done breaking ya lil’ ass in.”

Terry focuses his attentions on your clit, circling the sensitive bud with his thumb as your legs quake and shake. He hums in satisfaction, the pleasure coursing through both of your veins.

“Look at her, she just drippin’ all on these sheets. Creamy pretty ass pussy.”

He grabbed your face and made you look down at the mess you were creating all over his shaft. A thick white ring of cream that coated him and leaked on the bed.

You could feel your orgasm coming and he knew it.

“You wanna cum for me, don’t you?”

“Yessss, Daddy can I please cum?” You begged him.

“Wet that fat dick up baby, it’s yours.”

Your body shook uncontrollably as you came. Terry’s thrust grew sloppier but he pulled out and flipped you on all fours. He rubbed his tip against your wet folds, teasing you with it by pushing it in but not all the way. He spanked your ass until it was red and you had tears in your eyes.

“Daddy fuck me!” You screamed.

“Greedy fucking bitch!” Without warning, Terry lines up his rehardened cock and slams forward, burying himself to the hilt inside your tight heat in one powerful thrust. A low groan tears from his throat at the exquisite sensation of your walls clenching around him. “FUUCKK!”

The obscene slap of skin on skin echoes through the room as Terry takes you hard and fast, his heavy balls slapping against your clit with each forceful thrust. One large hand snakes around to roughly palm your bouncing tits while the other grips your hip, holding you steady for his relentless assault.

“Ouu fuck me! Fuck me with that big dick baby!”

Terry snarls in feral approval at your shameless begging, doubling his efforts to pound into your sopping pussy with animalistic fervor. The headboard slams against the wall with each brutal thrust, the entire bed shaking from the force of his passion.

Releasing your hip, Terry brings his hand down in a stinging slap to your jiggling ass cheek before reaching around to furiously rub tight circles over your aching clit. The dual stimulation proves too much, sending shockwaves of ecstasy rippling through your core.

“Cum on this dick, now!”

Your orgasm ripples through you like a tsunami.

“I’m finna nut in this pretty puss. Knock yo’ ass up! Make you round with my baby.”

“Cum in me big daddy! Please, I want your babies! UGHHH!”

With a guttural moan, Terry hilts himself one final time, grinding against your cervix as his dick throbs and pulses inside you. He buries his face between your shoulder blades, panting heavily as he rides out the intense waves of his release.

“Shit, fuck... so fucking good.” He grunts, hips twitching with the aftershocks of his climax. Terry pulls out, his softening member slipping free with a gush of combined fluids. He strokes himself a few times, aiming his tip away from your body as the last spurts of cum paint your lower back and ass.

“Next time, don’t open your mouth so damn much.”

A/N: this was my first time writing so go easy on me yall 😭.

@dxddykenn @writingsbytee @beenathembo @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @jimmybutlrr @theogbadbitch @kaylaahisthebestest- @theblacklewinsky @vivaalenaa @theereina @peachbuttetfly @callme-lover @pocketsizedpanther @nayaesworld @kimuzostar @episodes-ff @hxneyclouds @planetblaque @lrryss-vghn @luuvprincess

[wolvietxt]

Hii congrats on 1k!!! 💝

Could you do Dean Winchester with this prompt?

physical injury: after a fight, one character is hurt but refuses to admit how much pain they're in. the other notices and gently takes care of them, despite their protests.

Pd. Reader is the one who gets hurt

DEAN stormed into the motel room, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the flimsy frame. his jaw was tight, knuckles bruised from a fight that had gotten way out of hand. you followed a few steps behind, quieter, your arms crossed defensively as you tried to push past the ache blooming in your ribs.

“you wanna tell me what the hell you were thinking?” dean snapped, throwing his jacket onto the bed without looking back. his tone was sharp, but you could hear the undercurrent of worry he was trying to bury.

“i was thinking we’d get out alive,” you shot back, your voice strained. every breath made your side throb, but you’d be damned if you let him know that.

dean turned, narrowing his eyes as he took you in. “yeah? and how’s that plan working out for you?” he gestured vaguely toward you, his frustration crackling in the space between you. “you’re limping.”

“i’m fine,” you lied, walking further into the room to put distance between the two of you. “just drop it.”

“like hell i will.” his voice dropped, quieter now but no less intense. he stepped closer, his boots heavy against the thin carpet. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing,” you muttered, refusing to meet his gaze. you leaned against the edge of the table, trying to make your breathing look normal despite the sharp twinge in your side. “i told you, i’m fine.”

dean didn’t buy it for a second. you heard the bed creak as he sat on the edge, his eyes burning into you. “you’re holding your side. did one of those bastards get you?”

“no,” you said too quickly, your voice clipped. you turned away, pretending to rummage through the duffel bag on the table. “just a bruise. i’ll live.”

“stop,” he said, softer now, and the sudden gentleness in his tone froze you in place. “let me see.”

“it’s not a big deal,” you protested, your words weaker now as you felt the exhaustion from the fight creeping in.

“you’re a terrible liar.” dean stood, his shadow falling over you before his hands gently gripped your shoulders. he turned you around, his touch firm but careful. “come on. sit down.”

you sighed, knowing there was no getting out of this. “dean - “

“sit.” his voice left no room for argument, but there was no anger there anymore. just quiet determination.

you sat on the edge of the bed, wincing as the movement pulled at your ribs. dean crouched in front of you, his green eyes scanning your face before dropping to where your arm was still cradling your side. “lift your shirt.”

you hesitated, but his steady gaze made it clear he wasn’t going to let this go. reluctantly, you pulled up the hem of your shirt, revealing the ugly purple bruise spreading across your ribs.

dean swore under his breath, his jaw tightening again, but this time it wasn’t anger. “damn it,” he muttered, his hand hovering near the bruise like he wasn’t sure if he should touch it. “why didn’t you say something?”

“because it’s not that bad,” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes.

“not that bad?” he repeated, his voice tinged with disbelief. “you can barely breathe without wincing.”

you shrugged, biting back a grimace. “it’s not like i haven’t had worse.”

dean shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. he grabbed the first-aid kit from the nightstand, pulling out an ice pack and cracking it to activate the cooling gel. without a word, he pressed it gently to your ribs, his other hand bracing your back to keep you steady.

“hold this,” he said softly, guiding your hand to the ice pack. “and stop being so damn stubborn.”

you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “guess that makes two of us.”

dean huffed a laugh, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. “yeah, well, at least i’m not dumb enough to hide something like this.”

you rolled your eyes but let him take care of you, the warmth of his touch grounding you more than you wanted to admit.

ᰔ dean winchester : @person-005, @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing, @jackles010378

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[sir-tuitsum]

An Empress' Harem.

In where, some of the honkai star rail men become your concubine. Focused on how you came to meet them and integrate them into your harem.

Men: Sunday, JingYuan, DanHeng, Gepard, Aventurine, Dr Ratio.

Note: no warning, just a birthday gift to my friend <3 thanks for winning the battle of the sperms. probably choppy and feels rushed, wasn't edited but this is for you <33

Edit: A continuation explaining your concubines' dynamics is out, ig..? Here: https://www.tumblr.com/sir-tuitsum/771149330670354432/an-empress-harem

***************************************

Sunday

During your years as a princess, of course your husband would need to come from a strong clan to provide you better supporters in your campaign to become crown princess and later Empress. At the age of 9, your father had already gotten to work and convinced your mother, the then Empress, to betroth to the Oak Family's young son who was close in age to yourself.

You met the 10 year old only weeks later, he was as gentle and man-like as you'd expect from a son of a noble family. You easily sensed his tense demeanor around you, he made it his mission to make sure you were pleased the entire time you both were together.

"I will ask the maidservant to give us treats. What do you like?" You took the Oak clan's son for an outing in the Southernmost Imperial Gardens, it was closest to your father's palace as he would've liked it anyway.

"Ah, are you a fan of treats? What treats do you usually like getting?" He stood quite straight with a hand behind his back, as he should be.

You blinked, "Treats are okay. I usually end up eating Honey Cakes I suppose."

"Honey Cakes are sweet, I think I'd like to have one too."

When you asked him why his face scrunched up a bit while taking a bite, he simply brushed it off and said it was sweeter than he was used to. You assumed the maidservant had messed something up in his cake and asked your father to replace her later on.

Either way, Sunday was your personally chosen future royal consort by the former Empress, your own mother, so naturally you held him to high regard.

He was then and now, the very epitome of a perfect consort. He was given praises by both your mother and father quite often for his etiquette and behavior whenever he came by the Imperial Palace. It was enough his family received praises for their efforts in kingdom management by your mother, also with your father praising his family's influence, seeing you as set in stone for the throne being already favored well by your mother.

You married him as soon as the age was appropriate. On the wedding night, he had frigidly arranged old husbands' tales, from using plants said to boost fertility to saying prayers to placing down objects rumored to be favored by the aeons. He had kneeled before the bed after the priestesses and servants had left the private chambers, his hands clasped in prayer.

"The priestesses gave us enough blessings, no?" You jested. You were not surprised of course, years of being together with him had shown you his sweet devout heart towards the aeons. You found it an entertainment to tease him over the years.

"It is good to show the gods your own faith as well, to ask them personally shows your trust in them and pleases them more after all.." you felt almost bad for interrupting his prayer, with the way he glanced up at you afterwards, "perhaps you should join me, we could give honor to Ena for a stable marriage."

It was not uncommon for you both to spend your leisure time praying. Maybe your fondness for him came from the fact he didn't only run to the gods when something went wry. You remembered the first time, when you were but 11 and had visited the Oak's residence without much of an announcement due to having been passing by and decided to stop to visit him, you had been told the young lord was praying as he usually did around his hour. Your better manners told you to wait but in the moment you had made your way to the family's temple and easily made your way inside, as no one would stop an imperial heir so easily.

You found him on his knees, offerings before him as a painting of Ena laid before him on the wall. He was focused, not noticing your entrance. You observed him from where you stood, the relaxed look on his face wasn't normal for you. He was always at attention and the image of sophistication every man wanted to be, composed at all times. The gentleness of him this time wasn't the expected one of his stature, something about the moment almost felt intrusive. You were quiet in your strides towards him, having a closer look at his face now, you assumed it was the dim lighting of the candles but he looked like a different person. You looked forward at the image of Ena then kneeled next to him and clasped your hands together as well. It just felt right.

Praying with the other became something shared between you two when you both found time together.

You shrugged, "I don't see why not."

JingYuan

An incident had occurred during the celebratory banquet in which the pet kitten of a noble had disturbed the peace by causing a servant to lose balance and create a mess. A great disrespect to the royal family, your mother then had chastised the pet's owner publicly and declared the kitten to be skinned alive to teach everyone a lesson of letting creatures run wild in an event like this one.

Well, you found this sentence to be bad, for the kitten at least but your mother's temper was something to be observed carefully, you'd rather not make the evening more unpleasant for her. Or yourself.

It would be three days later when you'd hear noises when you were taking strolls after a long day in your lessons to clear your mind. You had stopped to rest in a pavilion before you'd journey your way back to your palace and heard it. You told your servants to wait for you at the pavilion as you made your way towards the noise as stealthy as one could be, peeking from behind a wall, you saw a boy perhaps older than you kneeling before a bush. There was a bowl next to him and his hand was stretched into the bush.

"pspspspsps-" you had heard from his mouth, ringing confusion bells in your head.

Then you saw it, the pearl white kitten itching out from the bushes only to be attacked with immediate petting from the young boy. That cat looked an awful lot like the cat ordered to die. It shouldn't be, as you saw the peeled skin yourself. It shouldn't be, what person in their right mind would walk straight into a death sentence like this. This definitely wasn't the cat sentenced to death.

So, you watched the should-be-dead kitten make its way toward the bowl of food, meowing in gladness then going right back in to continue eating.

"Does that feel better, Mimi?" The will-be dead boy muttered softly, his tone soft as he ran his hands through the kitten's head.

You felt more uncomfortable when you recognized his face, the amber eyes and the white hair, the black spot on his face-

Jingliu was a popular swordsman hailing from a clan who rose to a respected military family from her great efforts and achievements in conquest. She took in a young distant cousin whose family had fallen on hard times and raised him to take after her and continue her legacy of sword masters. You met this boy after he had accompanied his caretaker to the Imperial Palace for the banquet to celebrate her recent victory. You remembered seeing his face when he had come to greet you and your mother formally before the banquet commenced. You remembered how much your mother revered and praised Jingliu for her military prowess. You recalled thinking the cat faced boy had delicate features.

Military families were highly regarded by the Imperial family. They were considered military when someone received honors and official recognition from the imperial family for carrying out a successful military operation. These families usually aimed to produce soldiers and were determined to ensure all their descendants carry out their military duties for generations. You were curious about Jingliu’s choice to have a man carry on her military legacy though, most unusual.

You looked back at the white haired boy caressing the young kitten like a babe. You admired his idiocy in a sense. His actions were careless and could cause lady Jingliu trouble if he was not careful- this he was not being either. And yet his actions had somewhat touched you.

You also wanted to help the kitten during the banquet, maybe this could be your second chance.

.

.

An invitation was given to the Jingliu's household inviting the now young man to enter a concubine selection for one of the princesses. To his surprise, he was one of the first chosen by her.

Gepard

During your concubine selection, you heard the name Gepard Landau and you immediately decided then and there you would take him as your concubine as well.

In the years before your dynasty sat the imperial throne, the Landaus had supported your family during the civil war. The first Empress of your dynasty had taken a Landau son for her main husband, the royal consort then, the empresses after her had them as apart of their harem for years. This was an easy decision for you.

Moreover, it keeps the Landaus in check, they had weird influence over the imperial military. It would be tricky for you, if Gepard caused any trouble you can't be too strict on him, his family would find way to stick their hands into harem issues and shield him.

Either way, the Landaus are close with the Imperials, this was expected.

With your royal consort next to you, you watched the carriage wheel in with the Landau's sigil, the proud lion, waving from its flag as it pulled up to your palace gates. The custom was that you shared chambers with the concubine on the day they arrive as per tradition. You didn't have much appetite for him. You met the Landau and his older sister when you were still a girl, you had proudly announced to your father the moment he left your presence that he was beautiful and you should have his hand when you grow older, much to your father's pleasure. Whenever the Landau family bought their children around you were always expected to play with them, this was your pleasure, then you had a strong craving to have him.

Out of sight, out of mind. The Landaus preferred to raise their younger offspring away from court. Gepard and his baby sister would spend their time in the countryside with their father from the capital while their big sister would have to handle the duties as the heir apparent in the palace with their mother. Your childish affections dispersed over time. He was now a thing that was a part of the happier times of childhood more than a person you wanted.

Watching the blonde lion step from the carriage, dressed in the colours of his house and the veil on his head, your mind wandered back to the boy you knew. You recalled you barely looked up during the concubine selection and only said yes because she heard his name and accepted him immediately. You never got to look at him.

As per tradition, he kneeled before you every 2 steps he took until he was directly in front of you. At the final kneel, he didn't rise and awaited his new wife’s command to rise, her official welcome of him into her household. Your expression softened, though only slightly. With deliberate grace, you extend your hand toward him, “Gepard of House Landau,” your voice calm but carrying the weight of tradition. “Rise and take your place among those who are my harem.”

He took her hand, her touch steady and warm, yet undeniably regal. As he stood, the space between them felt both vast and impossibly close.

The things that were not said, unspoken words and battered feelings, it was obvious your feelings didn't go as deep as his. The consummation night was not as deep as he wanted it to be. The words, “Tradition demands our Union but I shall not ask any more of you than what you are expected to.”

Control, commands, longing, he did not expect indifference.

Gepard watched you leave, his thoughts a tempest. The girl he had once played with as a boy had grown into a ruler he could not yet fully understand. But for the first time since entering the palace, he felt less like a pawn and more like a participant in a game he was only beginning to learn

Dan Heng

Your history tutor himself held personal vendetta against the Vidyadharas, if you listened to the man explain the history surrounding them, you'd think he was personally there to experience the atrocities.

Though, you did not dislike him for it. The consequences of the old dynasty's actions did not disappear with time.

389 years ago, before the first Empress of your family overthrew the Vidyadhara Dynasty in the 5 Year War, the final ruler of the Vidyadhara was a man. Male rulers were few to none in the country's history, the only reason Dan Feng found himself on the throne of Gold was from a lack of women in the succession. The fertility of the Vidyadharas has dwindled over time until it reached a point they had to turn to a man to inherit the throne. This was their final mistake.

Undoubtedly, this was the worst sovereign to ever step foot on the throne. The first Empress of your dynasty led conquest against the tyrant and in five years time, the Vidyadhara dynasty were no longer legitimate rulers. They were stripped of their lands, titles and wealth, casted off and put under surveillance by your family after the death of

the tyrant. Bans were carried out against them, stay away from the capital, they couldn't hire help without the approval of the new dynasty, the next head of their family was chosen and controlled by your family, etc.

Now, there were two bans you had to be mindful of; Marriage of a Vidyadhara was determined by your family. Vidyadharas are forbidden from entering the royal harem. For the safety of their dynasty never rising again. This wasn't a problem for you until you were approached by an advisor, speaking of a young Vidyadhara being seeked out by a noble for marriage, a noble of importance. Your natural response would be to ban this immediately, you can't mix Vidyadhara blood with your allies. Perhaps it was the late night meeting but you asked for the noble to bring forth his intended bride.

You will continue to blame the late night, the young man, Dan Heng he called himself, a pretty Vidyadhara from the main branch of the family. I'm your own defense, the pretty boy seemed less interested in the idea of the noble woman being wedded to him and his responses seemed almost robotic. In your own defense, his corrupted blood shouldn't be mixing with your allies. It doesn't matter how you took action to stop this, what matters is the marriage was cut off that night. It doesn't need to be bought up that you made conditions to a serious ban your family pressed on since childhood.

As long as Dan Heng was banned from ever becoming the Royal Consort, having any children he produced inherit your throne and his family did not receive the honors the average concubine’s family was given, you could handle this. You won't regret this later.

Aventurine

In your opinion, the Interastral Peace Cooperation had a too heavy grip on the nations, even empires like your own. You recalled a visit of an ambassador from one in your youth, finding the preparations grand enough for a king to welcome one.

Even as an adult, you found their existence in the continent as a pack of dogs being held on a leash by one person. You weren't stupid enough to deny the good they've done to unite nations in peace but you weren't ignorant enough to deny their less honorable pursuits.

Your ascension to the throne naturally led to an ambassador of theirs being sent to congratulate you. It was a natural tradition for them to appease their royals and for the rulers to accept it.

Here in the banquet hall, you observed the other envoys bought with her as they entered. They approached you first with the proper greeting, Jade took the liberty of introducing herself then everyone else. You masked your disinterest until you noticed the blond, you hadn't seen him before, his frame seemed to be smaller and hidden behind the rest. You leaned back in your seat, looking over his form as Jade introduced him.

“Aventurine, a young man in training by myself.”

“What would you train a man for?” You didn't take your eyes off of him, he must've not grown very fast as a child, for whatever reason.

“Whatever a man can understand, there are good ones out there, like him.” She gestured to the blond with a smirk on her face.

You smiled in response to her jest then looked back at Aventurine, “if he is so good, he can tell me about it.” You motioned to the close spots to yourself at your table, inviting the blond to sit with you instead of his colleagues for the remainder of the banquet.

Well, this training, he won't be able to complete it anymore.

Dr. Ratio

Your first tour as Empress took place in the capital, the pride of the Empire. Your last tour had been when your mother was alive, only last year in another smaller city. On the third day of your tour, your royal consort and yourself were set to visit a distinguished university, personally funded by your family for years.

Education was one of your most prized priorities, there was a pull back before your ascension that you sought out to fix when you were Empress. You made it your own issue to get the universities and lower level schools back on track. If your ears were right, others took advantage when the imperial eyes looked away from it.

In an attempt to not disrupt the school day, you met the staff of the university privately and spoke with them about affairs in education.

Though, mid conversation, a man with purple hair had made his way into the room, abruptly so. His eyes locked rather aggressively with some of the educators in the room but he made his way before you, all proper greeting requirements met and rising when you gave him the permission to. He took a seat close by, opening the book in his hand, “It is my ill manners I arrived so late, it was not intentional on my part and I mean no disrespect to you, my liege.” He bowed his head to you as he spoke, you did not respond with anything but a nod.

“If I am so bold, I want to ask for more than just funding to the schools but for funding to the students as well,” he started, “I just think these funds benefit the schools more than the students. Even with the school funded by your majesty’s kind grace, it's not enough to have their needs met to stay in it.”

Well, it was a pleasant change of pace. You've spent the last half hour here with the inhabitants in the room sending you praises for the funds, then asking for more, then praising you, then repeating. Even his tone was too high to be asking that for someone of his standing. Whatever the person next to you said, you didn't hear it, you lowered your chin to look the purple haired man in the eye.

“And what else?”

The amber eyed man's eyes widened slightly as if he had expected a different response from you. He composed himself quickly after, spinning through his books, “I have personal petitions from my own students in here, some I've tried to sponsor myself, I had them write down their troubles-” you found the reactions of the other folks in the room to be almost comedic. Perhaps a less public inspection was needed.

You rose from your seat, “Perhaps you can tell me more about your students and requests, somewhere else, a stroll or a room to ourselves, whatever you desire.” You looked the man over before making your way towards the door, expecting him to follow in tow. You cared less for what the other women in the room had to say at this moment about your sudden leave, you only looked back to make sure the purple beauty was following you.

Yes, you can't wait to learn more about what he has to say and can do.

*************************************

[tsuutarr]

Tavern Owner Orc x New Hire Reader

I got to participate in the lovely Ozzgin's Secret Santa Event!! This one is for @tranquilo-antique-apothecary!!

Content is about 1K words of him being down bad for you <3

Sekkrad has always liked the bustling atmosphere of taverns, rich with rambunctious laughter and delicious food. After every win or loss, Sekkrad and his comrades would settle down at their favorite tavern, almost as if it were their second home. Maybe that was why he decided to open a quaint tavern after retiring from his warrior duties.

Despite his retirement, Sekkrad has always kept himself in shape. Working out has been engraved into his body, but beyond that, it’s also because his patrons can get quite rowdy at times. Plus, it’s helpful to be athletic when you’re working as much as he is. That said…

He really could use some help.

So, he puts up a flyer seeking an employee. As expected, there are some pretty good candidates. What’s unexpected, however, is you. You’re just so cute that Sekkrad literally stopped thinking when he first saw you walk through the tavern’s doors. He’s not even sure how he got through interviewing you, but somehow he did. And, just his luck, you’re a great candidate – exactly what he’s looking for! A good personality, a solid resume, and a cute face… so of course he hires you.

But on second thought – maybe it wasn’t his best idea. You look too adorable in the tavern’s uniform (that uniform does not usually look that good). And he practically blanks out every time you’re around him. You just look so soft and huggable. Plus that smile? It’s a killer. Thankfully, he somehow manages to guide you through your tasks and answer questions with a blank face (that he is desperately trying to control).

As he’s mulling about how he’s supposed to act around you, he notices you struggling to reach up to get a bottle of bourbon on one of the shelves. Without a second thought, he reaches over you, pressing his muscular body against your softer one.

“Here,” he grunts, voice low, as sirens whir in his head over how good your body feels against his. It’s like you fit perfectly against him.

“Thank you!” you respond, smile bright. Oh, Gods. You’re going to kill him.

He nods. “If y’need anything else, let me know.”

With that said, he moves to the storage in the back. He almost slams his head into the bag of flour, but reigns himself in after remembering how expensive flour is nowadays. Instead, he picks up some more syrup for his cocktails, willing himself to behave.

Despite the turmoil your presence brings to him, he manages to get through the day with relative ease. Hiring you really was the right choice – you’re an excellent worker. Smart, quick on the uptake, easy on the eyes – you’re just the perfect hire.

As he closes shop, wiping a wine glass clean, he watches as you wipe down the last table, a feeling of fondness spreading through his chest at how much of a hard worker you are. As you finish up, he prepares a sweet cocktail for you, before motioning you over.

“Good job,” he says, passing the cocktail to you.

“Thank you!”

He nods, motioning for you to sit. “Wait there.”

“Yessir,” you respond, saluting before you sit down. You watch as he disappears into the kitchen in the back, the sweet taste of your cocktail spreading over your tongue pleasantly.

It only takes him a few moments to come back with a plate of warm food. He places it in front of you.

“Eat up,” he murmurs, crossing his arms. “You were a great help today.”

Your cheeks heat up, making Sekkrad want to scream – you’re just so stinking adorable.

“I’m glad!” you beam, making his lips twitch up into a smile involuntarily. 

The way you eat his food also makes him feel warm and happy – it’s always a treat when someone enjoys his food.

“It was delicious!” you tell him once you’re done eating.

“Let me know what y’like to eat,” he says, looking pleased as you polish off his food. “I’ll make it for you next time.”

Eagerly, you tell him your favorite food, which he files away for later. He takes your empty dishes, which you try to protest, saying that you’ll clean up after yourself. He’s having none of it, though, and cleans up promptly as you finish off your cocktail.

“I’ll walk you home,” he offers while wiping his hands off on his apron. “It’s late.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly impose.”

Sekkrad doesn’t want to seem pushy, not when he really doesn’t want you to hate him, but he’s more concerned for your safety than anything. “You wouldn’t be imposing,” he replies, trying to make his voice softer. “I just want t’make sure my new hire’s safe.”

“Well…” you look up at him and Sekkrad has to look behind you so that he won’t combust. “...I’d appreciate it, thank you! I’ll go get my things.”

“Yeah,” he responds, watching as you go to the back to get your things. When you reappear, he straightens his back, motioning to the door. “Ready?”

“Yessir!” you say, starting your journey back to your home.

Your walk back with him is quiet and peaceful as everyone else is asleep. That, and Sekkrad has never been much of a talker, but he’s especially nervous around you. He’s not entirely sure how he’s supposed to talk to you, so he opts not to. Besides, you seem content to walk beside him quietly (and it’s just… nice to see how comfortable you look beside him). Despite his nervousness, he’s actually pretty content himself.

In fact, when you two arrive at your home, Sekkrad is almost disappointed. Still, he got you home safe and nothing was really amiss, so he can’t complain.

“Rest up,” he says, nodding at you. “I’ll see you at night.”

“I’ll be there dark and early,” you grin.

He can’t help but crack a smile at that. “Good.”

With a small laugh and a final wave, you enter your home. Sekkrad lingers until he’s fully sure you’re safe inside, before turning his heels to walk back to the tavern with light steps.

He really, really can’t wait to see you again.

[taeyongdoyoung]

poison

summary: tasting the king's meals for poison is a great honour to be bestowed on you. but poison is not the only thing you're interested in tasting... paring: king!haechan x maid!reader genre: royalty!au, romance, drama, smut warnings: reader has anxiety, food-tasting, mentions of poison, hierarchical system, rich guy/poor girl trope, shitty ex jaemin (sorry boo 💞), evil uncle trope, threats, mentions of blood, insecurities, crying, pet names, lots of kissing, inexperienced reader, lowkey corruption kink, fingering, handjob, cum-eating, loss of virginity, unprotected sex author's note: the plot is loosely inspired by some historical kdramas and the folk of the air trilogy 🥰 also, there are some references to nct songs in bold bc it's me, duh word count: 4.8k

Your life as a maid in the royal palace is pretty boring. You wake up, you prepare meals in the kitchen, you wash clothes, you clean rooms, you sneak a piece of stale bread if you find any (if you're lucky even some cheese), you go to sleep, repeat. Every day is the same. No drama, no adventure, nothing out of the ordinary. You don't like it but it's all you can do so you can send some money to your poor family.

That is until on one random day you are summoned to the king's chambers immediately, the other maids saying it is of utmost importance. You are panicking. Did you do something wrong? You try to attend to your duties with all the care and attention to detail possible. Will you be scolded or worse, punished, for some mistake you cannot place? You try to calm your rapidly beating heart, as you enter the king's room.

Looking down nervously, you bow deeply, not able to think of anything else to say, rather than mumbling a weak "Your Majesty".

"Relax, I'm not going to kill you," king Haechan says in his signature deep voice.

His words do little to ease your mind and your hands are still shaking.

"I've been told by my most trusted counsellor that I have many enemies and cases of poisoned aristocrats have been increasing. So, after discussing it in great detail, he advised me to look for a food taster. Someone I could count on not to betray me," the king explains.

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, but w-why me?" you ask meekly.

"You know my counsellor Jaemin, don't you? I believe you two were once…intimate. He said you could definitely be trusted. And I trust him with my life, so…"

Your damn ex Jaemin…You can't tell if him recommending you to the king as a potential food taster is a compliment or a curse. After all, you could literally die from poison. But then again, what can you do? You can't exactly disobey the king's direct command. At the end of the day, he bestowed a great honour on you. Anyone else would be jumping with joy. Anyone else but you.

"Your Majesty, I'm not denying you, of course. It's just that…I'm the only source of income for my poor parents. I can't bear to think of them all on their own."

"You have my word. Should anything happen to you…your parents will be well taken care of," the king promises and there is so much compassion and sincerity in his voice, you have no choice but to believe him.

"Very well, then. I'll try all your meals before you," you vow solemnly.

"Splendid," the king claps his hands.

That is how your boring days at the royal palace come to an abrupt end. You try the first couple of meals anxiously and with little appetite. Your stomach hurts from nervousness and not because there is any poison in the food. As time goes by, the food-tasting process becomes second nature to you. Eventually, you convince yourself that the chances of actual poison are low and you begin to enjoy your daily interactions with the king.

"What do we have for lunch today, my sweetest treasure?" the king asks. You like how he addresses you. As if you are genuinely important to him. As if it would pain him if he lost you. It's a kind gesture to distract you from the reality of how replacable you are.

"Your favourite, Your Majesty. Kimchi jjigae," you respond politely.

"Yesss, it's gonna be a great day!" the king squeals happily like a little boy.

It is an unwelcome reminder of how young he actually is. Unwelcome because you cannot imagine how difficult it must be for him. Enemies lurking at every corner, having all this power and responsibilities…and no one to share them with.

After you try the kimchi jjigae and check its safety, the king begins eating excitedly.

"You know that not all poisons kick in immediately, right?" you know it's rude to interrupt him but you cannot help yourself. "There is still a chance that we both get poisoned but the symptoms appear later."

"I know, but…" the king sighs, his mouth still full. Once he finishes chewing, he finishes his sentence. "It's still a precaution. At least Jaemin seems to think so."

You roll your eyes at the mention of your ex.

"Did you not end things on good terms?" the king is curious.

"We just…had lots of differences. Jaemin, being from a higher social class, said that I was just a way to pass the time. That he didn't see any future for us…That he would never marry me."

"Ouch," the king keeps chewing his favourite food. "I mean, it's technically true you belong to different worlds, but he could have said it more nicely."

"Do you trust his judgement? I'm not talking about relationships. Just…on the topic of poisons and stuff," you need to know.

"I suppose. We've known each other for so long, it'd be silly not to trust him."

"May I make a suggestion?" you inquire. "I know I'm not as qualified as Jaemin, but it's still worth taking other people's opinions into consideration."

"Sure," the king shrugs. "What did you have in mind?"

"If there are so many cases of aristocrats being poisoned, why don't you try taking a little poison each day to build an immunity? I've heard this method is quite common in other kingdoms."

"Where did you learn that?" the king asks you suspiciously.

"I read it in a book somewhere."

"You can read? No offense."

"None taken. When I'm done with my maid duties, I sneak into the royal library sometimes. Don't tell the king," you joke.

"Your secret's safe with me," the king laughs.

Time passes in the same old way. Cleaning, cooking and food-tasting. Repeat. One evening, the king summons you again.

You are about to take a bite from the food before him when he unexpectedly grabs your wrist and stops you.

"I don't want you to do that anymore," he murmurs.

"What?"

"I've started taking a little poison each day to build an immunity, like you advised me to. So far, I've been doing alright. And…I just think it's unfair, alright? What if you actually die?" the king whispers, as if the thought is so unbearable to him he can't even say it. "I can't lose you. I…trust you too much."

He trusts you? The thought is so bizarre in a flattering way your heart hurts upon hearing his sincerity.

"Are you planning to find another food-taster, then?" the very question is painful to you. Despite the potential danger, you don't want to be replaced. You want to keep being his person.

The king shakes his head.

"No life is worth more than mine. I'm not doing that outdated thing anymore."

"Of course, your life is worth the most! You are the king!" you exclaim passionately, pulling the food towards you.

"You think I don't know that?" he whisper-shouts, taking the food once again. "You think I don't wake up each morning wishing things were different?"

What…what is he on about? Why would he wish he wasn't the king?

"I'm not sure I follow," you say quietly.

"It's fine. I don't understand myself. Just…don't tell anyone, okay? Not even Jaemin. Let everyone believe you're still tasting my food and come at the allotted times as usual."

The not even Jaemin part shocks you. Does he no longer trust him as he once did? What is going on?!

"As you wish, Your Majesty," you respond, not even thinking of disobeying him. As confusing as everything is, you need him to trust you. More than you've needed anything else in your life.

"Oh and…one more thing. You should call me Haechan. When we're alone, that is."

"Uhm, okay. Haechan?"

"Yes, sweetheart?" he tilts his head cutely.

"Nothing, just trying it out," you chuckle.

Haechan laughs warmly and starts eating calmly.

"I can't tell if you're brave or reckless," you tease him.

"Perhaps both," he shrugs.

One Monday, your worst fear comes true. As you are preparing Haechan's meal, you are faced with his uncle. You've never been a fan of him for some unknown reason, but now you know your suspicions were completely justified.

"Give me the meal," he orders and you are so terrified, you do as he asks.

He pulls a vial out of his pocket and pours it on top of the food nonchalantly, mixing it well with a spoon, so that it doesn't show.

"Say a word to the king and you parents are dead," he threatens.

"What do you know about my parents?" you ask boldly. Foolishly, even.

After Haechan's uncle says the names of your parents and the exact location of their home, you realize he isn't bluffing. What are you going to do?

As you enter Haechan's chambers, you realize you can't do it.

"Ooh, this looks delicious," Haechan is about to put the food into his mouth when you rudely push the spoon away from him, spilling the food all over the ground.

"It's super cold and totally unappetizing," you exclaim the first thing that comes to mind.

Haechan eyes you weirdly but doesn't scold you.

"Have this, instead," you pull a sweet pastry from your pocket, knowing it's safe.

Haechan shrugs, not caring about what he's given.

"So yummy," he smiles happily, not suspecting a thing.

If you tell him, your parents are dead. If you don't, he's dead. Sooner or later.

When his evil uncle questions you later, you lie through your teeth that the king wasn't hungry and tossed the food away in an angry fit. Miraculously, his uncle believes that.

Similar things happen throughout the week. On Tuesday, you eat the food meant for Haechan yourself, hoping that the self-poisoning you've been doing in secret with the help of your apothecary friend Renjun will be plenty of protection and that you'll survive this extra dose of poison. On Wednesday, you explain to Haechan that the food was made with old ingredients and give him a piece of bread and some cheese you've set aside. On Thursday, you once again make a mess and spill the meal, pretending it was a clumsy accident. On Friday, you tell Haechan that you saw a cockroach in the food. Very far-fetched but it somehow works?! On Saturday, you go as far as lying to Haechan that you were so hungry you ate his food in the corridor.

Not once does he question you or get angry. His evil uncle, however, is becoming more and more agitated.

On Sunday, the uncle has had enough of your failed attempts to poison the king. And he shows you something that makes your blood run cold.

Two chopped-off fingers that he claims belong to your parents.

"If you fail again, it'll be their entire hands next time. And then, their heads. Choose wisely," he threatens cruelly.

You seem to be at an impasse.

As you are once more left alone with Haechan, you debate what to do. You are running out of ideas. Haechan's spoon is approaching his mouth eagerly. After all, he's been eating nothing but bread and random snacks all week. Your mind goes blank. If he eats that, he'll surely die. If he doesn't, your parents might die. It's an impossible situation. But you are greedy. Greedy to save both his life and your parents'.

"Stop," you cry out.

Haechan's hand freezes mid-air. It's now or never.

"I have betrayed you, Your Majesty, please kill me," you drop to your knees desperately.

"I told you to call me Haechan," he rolls his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Your uncle has been trying to kill you," you blurt out. "He's been putting poison in your meals for the past week. I kept trying to come up with ridiculous reasons to prevent you from eating it but…he's been threatening my parents. Today he showed me two chopped-off fingers and said the next time I fail to poison you, it'll be their hands and the final time, their heads, but…I can't do this."

"Can't do what?" Haechan asks you to clarify.

"I can't poison you," you admit, eyes filled with tears. Even though your parents' lives are in grave danger, losing Haechan would hurt just as much.

"Could have just said that from the beginning instead of feeding me bread for a week," Haechan teases.

"You believe me?" you inquire nervously. Only now does the gravity of the situation strike you. What if he'd chosen to side with his uncle and executed you for treason?

"Jaemin's been warning me about my uncle plotting against me for a while now. I thought it was just his paranoia, but…I'm inclined to believe you and Jaemin."

"Over your own flesh and blood?" you are pleasantly surprised.

"Blood doesn't necessarily make you family," Haechan shrugs. "Okay, here's the plan. We'll sneak out of the palace and go find your parents. We'll make sure they go somewhere my uncle won't be able to find them."

You nod numbly, amazed at how quick he's thinking and finding a way out of this situation.

"Then, we'll return to the palace and make my uncle regret ever trying to mess with us."

"Us?" you repeat.

"Yeah, us," Haechan confirms. "We're in this together, no?"

"Hell yeah!" you reply, infected by his enthusiasm to find a solution.

Once you dress up with cloaks and daggers, Haechan leads you through a secret tunnel hidden behind the royal library that takes you both out of the palace.

"Don't tell anyone about this," Haechan whispers in your ear, his hand on your lower back, making you gasp for air.

"Who am I gonna tell? The king?" you joke to distract him from how affected you are by his gentle touch.

"Yeah, he should never know about this," Haechan chuckles in the dark and kisses you on the lips, taking you by surprise. You…he…what?!

You wrap your arms around his neck, desperate for the way he grounds you and makes you believe it will all be alright, you'll find a way out of this mess. Together.

He is the one to initiate the kiss but sadly, he is also the one to end it as abruptly as it started.

"As much as I'm enjoying the taste of your lips, we have to get to your parents and make sure they're okay."

"Right, right," you agree. He's more concerned about your parents than you, which speaks volumes about his noble character.

You resist the urge to swoon and try to focus on the task at hand.

Once you get to your parents' place, you are happily amazed to find all their fingers intact! That bastard was bluffing!~But the question remains…whose fingers were that?!

"You'll have to go to another town," you explain impatiently. "Haechan has some trusted friends who'll take you in."

"H-haechan?" your mom repeats in shock upon hearing you call the king by his first name.

"Uhh," you look to Haechan nervously for a way to explain. You know he told you to only call him that when it's the two of you but it just slipped so naturally…

"It's okay," he reassures you. "Your daughter has saved my life on multiple occasions. Making sure you two are fine is the least I could do."

"You are too kind, Your Majesty," your dad is even more stunned by Haechan's gentle demeanour.

"Just returning the favour. Your daughter's irreplaceable."

Oh. You wonder if he truly believes that or is simply trying to ease your parents' worries.

Soon enough, you parents are travelling to Haechan's friends and you and the king are riding back to the palace.

Immediately, he summons a court meeting and gives the order for his uncle to be brought to justice in front of all the aristocrats. His uncle is struggling to escape the guards' arms and screaming treason. But Jaemin's and your account of the uncle's actions are enough to convince the people of the truth. Eventually, other aristocrats start speaking up of suspicious things Haechan's uncle has done or said like threatening them or their family in an attempt to take the throne. In no time, the uncle is imprisoned.

"You should have just killed him," Jaemin tells Haechan quietly. "He would have done the same to you."

"I do things differently," Haechan replies. "If you were king, you'd understand."

Jaemin shrugs.

"Lucky for me, I'll never know what that's like."

Haechan rolls his eyes, trusting that his friend has no such ambitions and is happy with his life as a counsellor.

Even with the threat of Haechan's uncle behind bars, he still continues to take little doses of poison to build an immunity. You don't tell him but you do the same, carrying on with food-tasting his meals before him. You value your life, sure. But you value his more.

One random Tuesday, Haechan summons you to his chambers. But the hour does not indicate food-bringing activities. Just like the first time, you are overwhelmed by a strange sense of anxiety. Even though you've known him for so long and have been through so much together, it still unnerves you, being alone with him. You don't know if things would be different if he weren't king. Perhaps not. There is just something about Haechan that makes your knees tremble in the best way possible.

"You've asked to see me, Your Majesty?" you mumble.

"When will you get rid of that annoying habit? It's just me…Haechan," he reminds you needlessly.

"I know, but you're still the king."

"That sounds so detached," Haechan groans. "But I'm hoping what I have to say will convince you to only call my name. Not just when we're alone."

"What are you saying?" you're beyond confused.

"Marry me. Become the queen of my kingdom," he pleads, taking your hand in his.

"But…you can't," you whisper in shock, reminded of how adamant Jaemin was. And if the distance between your place in society and Jaemin's was big…then, the distance between your and Haechan's worlds seems far more insurmountable.

"I can," Haechan looks more determined than anything to do this.

"People will talk…They won't be happy."

"Fuck people," Haechan scoffs. "Will you have me or not?"

"Of course, I will, Haechan," you cry out. "You've shown me more kindness and understanding than anyone in my life."

"You do know I'll give you anything you desire?" Haechan speaks softly. "As long as you're by my side, as you have been so far."

"You do know I don't want anything, right? Even if you weren't king, I'd choose you in any universe."

"Are you serious?" Haechan smiles in disbelief, the idea so foreign to him.

"Of course I am," you insist. "Even if you were a poor bard singing in taverns."

"Hm. I do love singing," Haechan smirks and kisses you.

And gods, his lips are sweeter than any meal you've tasted and every poison you've consumed. You could never get enough.

Your wedding day finally arrives. Shockingly, people are more accepting of your union than you anticipated, because they take your food-taster position in consideration and how valiantly you exposed Haechan's evil uncle. Your parents, as well, are happy to see you and Haechan together.

However, there is one person who is against.

"Is that why you broke up with me? Aiming high, I see," Jaemin snickers rudely once you are out of Haechan's sight for a brief moment at the wedding afterparty.

"I broke up with you because you said I was just a way to pass the time and you see no future for us. If you think I'm with Haechan because of his crown, you're even more foolish than I thought," you scoff.

"Oh, really?" Jaemin raises his eyebrows. "So, you're saying if Haechan lost his title as king, you'd still be with him?"

"Yes, I would. But the fact you're even talking about that can be considered treason by some."

"You know I'm loyal to Haechan. But do you honestly think you're good enough for him? You could never satisfy him. He'll grow tired of you, you'll see. You're so fucking…cold," Jaemin hisses.

His words sting more than when he implied you were with Haechan because of his power. It is true that you are not experienced. Even though you were with Jaemin for a while, you two never…went all the way. You were perhaps far too romantic but you wanted to save it for your wedding night.

"Well, lucky for you, you'll never get to feel how warm I can be," you say with a self-assured smile. "Now, piss off and let me enjoy my wedding."

Jaemin rolls his eyes and seemingly has nothing else to say, leaving you alone.

Why did he have to say all that stuff? You know it's not entirely true, but it still sucks. Jaemin was the one who ended what you two had with his cruel words. It's just that you were the only one brave enough to finally call it quits. And you're glad you did. He may be bitter now but he'll eventually find someone better suited for his character. As for you…you were perfectly happy with Haechan. And you wouldn't let Jaemin ruin your special day.

Eventually, the guests started leaving one by one and it was time for your wedding night. To say you are nervous would be an understatement. Your hands are shaking more badly than the first time you were summoned to Haechan's chambers. You are aware that he's a good person who will treat you right…but he's still your king and that fact is intimidating enough to make you tremble with anticipation.

"Good evening, my lovely wife," Haechan enters your (gods, this is insane) now shared room.

Your mind completely blanks and you have no idea what to say. So, you just start crying.

Haechan immediately rushes to you, embracing you and kneeling next to you.

"What's wrong? What did I do?"

"N-nothing," you manage. "It's not your f-fault."

"What is it?" he asks again. "Did Jaemin say anything?"

"How did you know?" you blink furiously to clear your vision from the tears.

"He's not over you yet, is he? It's obvious from the way he looks at you. And me. I mean, don't get me wrong, he's still as objective as he can be when giving me advice, but…he sometimes stares at me as if I stole his dinner. Not that you're dinner. You're obviously much more important than that and uh…I really should stop talking, shouldn't I?"

You laugh, pleasantly distracted by his ramblings.

"You're good. And he did say some stuff implying I was a gold digger, but…frankly, I don't care about his opinion."

"I'm gonna kill him," Haechan gets up but you are quick enough to grab his wrist.

"No, please, stay. Let him think what he wishes. I only care about what your opinion of me."

"Darling, I am perfectly confident you did not marry me because of my title."

"I know. I'm not talking about that. I mean…I'm just nervous I won't be able to please you. I've never done this before," you explain nervously.

"You and Jaemin never…?" Haechan waves his hand in the air meaningfully.

"I wanted to wait till my wedding night. So, um, here we are, I guess."

"Oh, my angel," Haechan places a hand on your cheek. "You don't have to worry about that. Just, relax, and let me take care of you."

"No, no. Teach me. I'll do anything you say, just…guide me, please?" you plead him, looking up at him, your eyes still moist with tears.

"Okay," Haechan agrees easily. "Take off your clothes."

You gulp anxiously and start unbuttoning your wedding dress. Why is it so hard? Why are there so many freaking buttons?

"Gods, you're trembling," Haechan points out the obvious and his impatience takes over. He removes your hands from your dress and finishes the remaining buttons himself. You are grateful for his help, but you still feel like a total failure for not being able to complete one simple task.

"I'm s-sorry," you pout.

"Don't apologize," Haechan shakes his head. "Can I touch you?"

You nod and he caresses you with his pretty fingers. It feels so sticky and weird but…weird good. Definitely good.

"You're so cute, you know that?"

"N-no, stop," you disagree, chuckling.

"Stop what? Stop doing this?" Haechan teases you but continues his motions, because he sees how much you're enjoying it.

"Stop calling me cute," you elaborate.

"You're so not cute," Haechan obliges jokingly. "That was a lie, by the way."

You laugh again, not just because of his words, but because the things he's doing with his hands make you feel so amazing you can't hold it in.

"You like that, my pretty wife? You like being touched by your husband?" Haechan talks you through it.

"Yes! So much! You have no idea!" you scream as you fall apart under him.

"I think I do," he smirks proudly and lets you ride it out. Then, he takes his fingers out…and licks them clean. Your eyes widen in shock. You've never imagined such a sight possible. The king of the country just did…THAT to you. And against all reason, you're still breathing.

"Show me how to do this to you," you beg, wanting to make him feel as good as you.

"It won't be the same," Haechan giggles. "But I'll give the best of me."

He takes off his clothes hurriedly, extremely excited to teach you everything he knows. You are amazed to see him in his full glory. His golden skin radiates in the dimlit room.

"You look incredible," you gasp.

Haechan tilts his head to the side, his cheeks turning red.

"May I touch you?" you ask reverently, still in awe of his sun-like beauty.

"We're married. Of course you can," Haechan reminds you sweetly and guides your hand, showing you all the way he likes to be touched, telling you what feels good and what doesn't (though everything you do feels good for him but he won't tell you just yet).

You do your best to follow his instructions and soon enough become bold enough to start experimenting yourself. He is enjoying it judging by the expressions on his heavenly pretty face.

"You're so hard. Isn't it uncomfortable?" you inquire, genuinely curious.

"It kinda is. But it's also a good thing. It means I'm really into you."

"The way when you touch me and I'm drippin' and it's kinda strange but also feels nice?" you try to explain the logic in your own terms.

"Exactly that way. You're a quick study," Haechan praises you.

"I just have a very good teacher," you compliment him in return and kiss him deeply, your hand still stroking him.

Soon enough, his release comes and you marvel at how much of it there is. You gather some of it with your finger and lick it, just like he had done with you.

"Fuck. You don't have to do that," Haechan moans.

"But you did it? Isn't it okay?" you blink innocently.

"It's not that it isn't okay. Just saying, you don't have to. I bet it tastes weird."

"No, it's not weird," you shake your head adamantly. "I mean, it's you, so I think it tastes sweet."

"Better than poison?" Haechan teases.

"Definitely better," you agree without thinking.

"I know you've been tasting my meals even when I told you to stop," Haechan blurts out all of a sudden.

"You knew?" you whisper in shock.

"I felt so bad but I didn't mention it because I knew no matter what I said, you'd keep doing it."

"You thought correctly," you sigh. "But you don't have to feel bad. I'm also taking little doses of poison each day, so I'll be fine. We'll both be fine, I'll make sure of it."

Haechan kisses you again, gripping your hair firmly, but gently at the same time.

"Remind me again what did I do to deserve you?"

"Did the Sun ever do anything but shine to make the Earth revolve around it?" you smile fondly.

"You're saying I'm your Sun?" Haechan presses his forehead against yours.

"Provided I'm your Earth," you respond.

"Well, did you know the fate of the Earth is to be consumed by the Sun?" Haechan informs you with a sweet voice but sombre expression.

"Consume me, then," you gladly consent and he slides inside of you all too smoothly.

Earth and Sun, moving together as one. Two entirely different worlds and yet…you belong with each other.

"You're too sweet for me," you murmur, chasing his lips once more.

"You've had too much poison your taste buds are off," Haechan jests.

"Maybe so," you grin. "I should probably drink more of you as an antidote."

"I'm counting on it, my beloved wife."

The End

[sirhamburrger]

ᯤ feat. yoichi isagi, meguru bachira, hyoma chigiri, rin itoshi, seishiro nagi, kenyu yukimiya, ryusei shidou and oliver aiku ᯤ tags/cw: all characters are aged up, bit suggestive (shidou you freak), petnames ('sweetheart' in isagi's, 'love' in rin's, 'babe' in shidou's), rin is mean (affectionately), shidou being a freak in the minecraft bedsheets, but also really sweet, hopefully not that ooc, i have a semi-serious, semi-casual relationship with minecraft ᯤ a/n: no reason for this whatsoever no prompt no nothing just take this love child between me and my insomnia *shoves this into your arms and runs away* || divider by @sister-lucifer part 2 [rocket league ver with kuni, reo, karasu, sae]

yoichi isagi:

ᯤ is just kinda average at it. like he truly is just okay at it. ᯤ he’s so competitive though (he would ‘race you to that tree over there’ 😭 but he doesn’t know how to sprint so he always loses to you) ᯤ he likes the little sounds the eyes of ender make when you place them in the end portal frame ᯤ defeats the ender dragon with your help but makes you go ahead of him when exploring the nether ᯤ “hey uh sweetheart? why’s that green thing flashing white and making a noise” ᯤ favourite mob: chickens (they’re funny)

meguru bachira:

ᯤ he l o v e s minecraft so much it’s unbelievable (he was probably one of those kids who grew up playing it) ᯤ he loves trying out different hacks he sees on youtube. he knows that 99 percent of the time they don’t even work, but “there’s a 1 percent chance it will, and i’m feeling lucky today!” ᯤ lets you practice your shooting skills using his avatar as a dummy ᯤ cannot wire redstone for shit ᯤ tries to get the rarest (dumbest) in-game death messages ᯤ baabaabaachira experienced mid-life crisis while being attacked by tropical fish ᯤ favourite mob: cave spiders (they look scary in a cool way)

hyoma chigiri:

ᯤ plays for the mobs. will protect his lovelies with all his heart. ᯤ when he got his first minecraft dog, he built a little kennel made of cherry wood for it, only for it to fall into a pit of lava deep in the caves on day 5 ᯤ he cried for five hours ᯤ once you dyed all his sheep pink and he started to tear up just from looking at them ᯤ “hear me out, okay? i think we should get a pet axolotl.” and it’s legal in japan, so you do! (her name is hyoma jr) ᯤ has a huge minecraft zoo ᯤ favourite mob: parrots (they can sit)

rin itoshi:

ᯤ is mean to you at first. he’ll be like “why do you suck at this” and “i could do that too” ᯤ then he gets his hands on the controller and can’t figure out the controls for half an hour ᯤ “… love?” ᯤ “… yes, rin?” (you, amused) ᯤ “… how do you jump…” ᯤ its subtle charm does grow on him after a while. he plays on creative mode and just explores the server on a horse he named sugarcube ᯤ it’s cute watching him play (you send photos to sae) ᯤ favourite mob: sheep (all they do is eat grass and don’t bother you)

seishiro nagi:

ᯤ i will subvert expectations here and say that nagi doesn’t even play minecraft that much because he doesn’t like it ᯤ “such a hassle to play this game… there isn’t even any storyline you can just do whatever you want… and i don’t want to have to decide what to do” ᯤ he ends up finding a passion for building elaborate traps for you to walk into ᯤ absolute beast at parkour. he performs triple neos to perfection ᯤ if he’s a streamer he plays on twitch for the fans but he complains as he does it ᯤ favourite mob: bees (they’re just cute)

kenyu yukimiya:

ᯤ he doesn’t really play video games so understandably he gets off to a slow start ᯤ but once he gets the hang of things? he’s unstoppable. breezing through achievements like nobody’s business ᯤ he’s really excited about it too like “did you see that?? i just killed a zombie!” ᯤ it’s truly the culmination of 18 years of not touching a single game as a child/teen and now playing a sandbox game ᯤ feeling confident, he starts a hardcore world. (he dies from hunger.) ᯤ he's the kind to look up the most beautiful minecraft seed numbers, key them in meticulously and just take in how amazing they are ᯤ favourite mob: foxes, specifically the orange ones (he loves all things forest biome)

ryusei shidou:

ᯤ we all know he’s a very artistic kind of guy so he’d be geeking out over the textures and which colours would go best with each other ᯤ he doesn’t shower for a day because he’s playing creative (my lil stinky 🫶) ᯤ he builds the most beautiful multi storey houses!! and he’s like “if it were real we could live in there together 🥺“ ᯤ “why is the bedroom huge with like twenty beds…” (you, concerned) ᯤ “oh we’re gonna need space babe. for activities.” ᯤ but he doesn’t stop there; he learns how to make entire cities and landscapes and frankly they are masterpieces - think shovel241 (i freaking LOVE his videos they’re so satisfying) ᯤ favourite mob: endermen (he thinks they look badass)

oliver aiku: 

ᯤ meh he’s pretty good ᯤ raged when he first found out fall damage was a thing and again when he discovered hunger and drowning as death messages ᯤ is obsessed with speed runs and parkour for some reason (he’s really bad at both though) ᯤ is the guy who makes “100 MINECRAFT FACTS YOU DIDN’T KNOW” videos with his friends sendo and lorenzo ᯤ you once saw him set up an experiment to see how many blocks a llama can spit and died laughing ᯤ would absolutely kill you in-game just for the fun of it ᯤ favourite mob: cats (especially the black ones)

say hi to hyoma jr. it is not optional.

bllk masterlist || general masterlist

© sirhamburrger 2024

[himasgod]

Wanderer x Cheerful! Reader Headcanons

Where you are traveling companions, and he is gentle with you while you are hyperactive and cheerful.

A series of headcanons based on the relationship you would have with Wanderer if you were a bit clumsy, but very happy and hyperactive. It contains a NSFW section and each headcanon section has sample dialogue.

While you talk non-stop about seemingly trivial things, the Wanderer stays silent, listening to you with a mix of exasperation and fascination. Although he pretends not to pay attention, he can remember every detail of your stories.

He acts like he’s annoyed by it, always having sarcastic comments ready to respond to your quips, but he actually loves seeing you cheer up. Your laughter is a sound he’s learned to value.

"And then the cat jumped off the roof and landed right in my arms! Isn't that amazing?"

"More amazing would be if you stopped risking your life for stray animals."

"I wasn't risking my life! I just wanted to help him."

"Of course, because you're the heroine of all the cats in trouble."

Your energy often brings him out of his state of alienation. Although he finds it hard to admit it, being with you makes him feel more connected to the world.

"Look! I bought this ribbon for my hair. Don't you think it looks pretty?"

"I don't know what's worse, the ribbon or the amount of time you spent picking it out."

"You're so insensitive! I'm not asking you anything again."

"It suits you, by the way."

At first, the Wanderer finds it difficult to fully trust you. His fear of being betrayed makes him keep an emotional distance, but your warmth and patience manage to break down his barriers little by little.

When he feels overwhelmed by his past or his internal struggles, it is with you that he finally allows himself to be vulnerable.

"Why do you always act like you're waiting for me to betray you?"

"Because betrayal is the only constant thing I've ever known."

"I'm not like everyone else ."

"That's what everyone says."

Sometimes you stay silent, resting your head on his shoulder as he closes his eyes and strokes your hair gently.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. Just… stay here."

"I'm always here."

"I don't know why you trust me so much, but… thank you."

He loves to make you blush, Wanderer enjoys seeing you embarrassed too much. It can be as simple as getting too close to you or murmuring something in your ear with his low, soft voice.

Your reactions are his weakness, even though he constantly annoys you, if someone else tries to make you uncomfortable, his protective side comes out. No one can bother you except him.

"Did you know that you look cute when you're focused?"

"What are you saying?! Don't just say things like that all of a sudden!."

"What's wrong? Can't you handle a simple compliment?"

"What's someone like you doing traveling with him? You're probably more of a bother than a help."

"Say it again and make sure you have somewhere to hide afterward."

"Wanderer! It's not that big of a deal…"

"I don't care what they think of me, but no one has the right to talk to you like that"

Although he is not the type to openly express affection, his subtle gestures speak for themselves. He places his large hat on your head when the sun is shining hard. He makes sure you always have enough water or food during your travels.

If you're hurt or tired, he stops immediately, even if he pretends it's for practical reasons.

His touches are slow and deliberate, as if he's afraid of breaking something fragile. He prefers quiet moments where he can hold your hand or play with a lock of your hair while you talk.

"It's so hot here! The sun is burning my head!"

"I'll give you my hat. Stop complaining and keep walking."

"Thanks… but you could say it nicer, you know?"

"That would be unrealistic."

Your joy brightens his darkness, your optimism helps him see the world from a more positive perspective. Although he doesn't say it out loud, he realizes that you're a constant light in his life.

"Why do you always look at me like that when I'm talking?"

"Because you make those weird hand gestures. It's… entertaining."

"I don't make them weird!"

"Of course not"

His calmness balances your energy, when you're too excited or anxious, his soft voice and serene presence help to reassure you. Sometimes it's enough for him to take your hand and say, “Breathe. I'm here.”

"Isn't the sunset beautiful? It's like the sky was hand-painted."

"It's just light refracted off water particles."

"You're so boring! Just admit it, you like it too."

"Maybe a little"

Although you're opposites in many ways, you both find something unique in each other that makes you feel complete. To you, he's a safe haven; to him, you're the spark that keeps his soul moving.

"Let's go explore that forest! What could go wrong?"

"A lot of things. Starting with your tendency to run without thinking."

"But you would protect me, wouldn't you?"

"That doesn't mean you should purposely put yourself in danger."

Sometimes you argue over silly things, like who's right about a road or how to cook something. It always ends with him winning with his logic and you throwing a pillow or an indignant look at him.

He likes to give you nicknames that annoy you but that you find strangely cute.

"I told you this was the right path."

"And I told you maps don't lie."

“Then the map is wrong!”

“Or your sense of direction sucks.”

Even though it's rare, there are times when your clumsiness or your witticisms make him genuinely laugh. When you listen to him, you can't help but stay silent, admiring how beautiful his laugh is.

“That silly smile again? I should call you ‘Little Sunshine.’”

“That's not a nickname! And I don't have a silly smile.”

NSFW.

“I’m fine, don’t worry!”

“You’re a walking disaster.”

“Are you laughing at me?! It’s so weird to see you laugh!”

“Don’t get used to it.”

You notice that something strange is happening when you're talking about anything stupid nonstop and his gaze has a different kind of shine, one that's not curiosity. When you notice that predatory shine and something dark in his eyes, while his pupils descend towards your lips wet from talking so much, you know what he's thinking about instead of paying attention to you.

And so, at the moment when you continue talking, distracted by seeing his eyes like that, you get stuck while speaking and a small smirk covers his lips as he asks you, please, to keep talking.

So, while you are both distracted and trying to continue talking about anything, you notice how his hand absentmindedly travels to your thigh to give it a squeeze.

You're cooked. When Wanderer wants something, he gets it, greetings.

He teases you, whispering in your ear that you dare not continue talking as he begins to lower his lips to your neck.

Likewise, as he fucks you, he murmurs that he would love to see your hyperactive smile that you hide while you bite your lips desperately trying not to moan his name so as not to give him more reasons to tease you.

In truth, he is much softer with you, so those moments are something special. Protect him, he loves you very much, do not hurt him.

Here is my masterlist, in case you are interested in any more of my work or want to send me a request <3