#these two menaces look so good here 🩷

[damiansgoodgirll]

Hiiii!! I hope you’re doing amazing! I’m sorry you’re having a bit of writers block at the moment as I know how difficult that can be!! I saw you opened your requests to see if that would help so I figured I would request something!

Maybe Rhea x Reader, where Reader is also a wrestler and her aesthetic is super girly and cute and bubbly (kinda like Tiffany Stratton) and something about it just draws Rhea in. Like she tried to act like she hates it and doesn’t like Reader, but eventually she just can’t and caves to how adorable Reader is and it brings out Rhea’s sweet side! 🩷

rhea ripley x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

‼️nothing major, rhea’s sexual thoughts tho…a lot of fluff and sweet moments, reader being a tease (let’s pretend rhea is still champion here) ‼️

heartbeat

rhea hated when someone tried to take her title away. but she hated even more when you became her main opponent for a title run.

you and the dark haired woman were completely the opposite. you were a face, she was a heel. you wore pink, she wore black. you were kind and loved backstage, she was a menace with anyone who dared to even look into her eyes.

she hated the idea of having to fight with you. she already handled a liv morgan, a tiffany stratton and now she had to face you.

she absolutely despised having you as her main opponent and no matter how many times she tried to resonate with adam, he said that you deserved that title run more than anyone. and she knew it too. she observed you. you were good, you were smart, you worked more on psychological fights than physical fights and for the first time, rhea was afraid.

you and her never really talked outside of the company. she wasn’t in your group and you weren’t in hers.

so the first time you got to share a few words was when you two had a promo and even if rhea looked so intimidating, you were ready for a challenge and you showed her who you really were.

“so you think you can take my title?” she shouted into the mic, staring at you. she looked for something that could have scared you away but she find nothing.

you simply laughed, taking a few steps forward her “i’m damn sure i can” you stated making the crowd cheer.

she was ready to reply back. she was so ready to put you in place but having you so close to her made her freeze. your vanilla scent intoxicating her. your challenging eyes never leaving her face. something about you made her even more interested into this feud. you made her heart beat fast and she couldn’t understand why.

“cat got your tongue, mami?” you teased her, hearing even more chants from the crowd.

“stay out of my way” she said coldly before dropping the mic to the ground and leaving the ring.

as days passed, rhea moved cautiously around you. observing you at the gym, observing the way your body moved inside the ring as you trained. she couldn’t help the filthy thoughts running in her head when she saw the sweat dripping down your body.

watching you fight other opponents and she hated admitting it but she found you extremely attractive. she never imagined herself being attracted by some barbie doll prototype but here she was.

you, flaunting your pink gear, your perfect make up and curled hair, ready to fight liv morgan - once again.

you knew it was going to be an easy match. you fought liv multiple times and you always won but somehow it didn’t go exactly as you planned. sure, you got your win but liv managed to injury you.

rhea watched all the match behind the scenes and a lump form in her throat.

how the heck did liv manage to injury you? she was supposed to keep you safe inside the ring just like you did with her and instead she fucked up and probably costed you a title run.

she should be happy that you weren’t her opponent any longer but she was actually looking for a chance to fight you.

you struggled walking back, helped by some trainers, they let you sit comfortably in the medical area as a doctor checked upon on you.

sprained ankle.

a couple of weeks of no fighting, no training at the gym and no title run opportunity. this was definitely not what you were expecting.

as you slowly walked back to the locker room, you were stopped by the infamous rhea ripley.

“hey…” she greeted you, making you look at her with a confused expression.

“i’m out of your way now, are you happy?” you sarcastically asked her but you saw how serious she was.

“no, not really…i was really looking forward to fight you, can’t believe im stuck again with that mid morgan girl” she said, clearly mad.

her words made you laugh “it won’t be for too long, give me a month to recover and then i’ll happily pin you down the floor” you teased, seeing her blush.

her strong facade fell when you talked dirty to her. she felt her cheeks burn but she tried to keep up with you “i can’t wait for that moment to come then…”

you were absolutely in for whatever rhea was trying to do with you “challenge accepted then, see you in a month” you winked but as soon as you tried to walk again, a sharp pain rang through your foot, making you flinch a little.

“hey, you okay?” rhea immediately asked when she saw the pain expression in your eyes.

“i have to get used to walk with just one foot” you laughed.

“here, let me help you…” her hand softly moved around your hip, helping you back to the locker room so you could gather your belongings and then go straight to the hotel. she walked slowly, never forcing you or your body.

“i didn’t know rhea was a kind one” you joked, making her laugh.

“i’m not. i never liked you y/n…this bubbly energetic person you are, i always hated it…too much pink, too much kindness” she whispered.

“why is it in the past?”

“because somehow your annoying personality caught my attention” she confessed, making you look at her with a teasing face.

“that’s good to keep in mind next time i’m facing you in the ring…” you said making her roll her eyes.

once you got to the locker room, rhea packed all of your stuff. your make up, your clothes, your perfume - the vanilla perfume - and she took the bag over her shoulder.

“do you need a ride to the hotel?” she offered and you couldn’t turn her offer down so you agreed.

as you were settled in her car, you found her to be a comforting presence. maybe she really wasn’t the mean one everyone talked about.

before you could speak, metal songs blasted through the speakers and it took you a couple of minutes to realise that you and rhea couldn’t be more different “do you really listen to that?” you asked, a little confused.

“yeah…it’s amazing” she happily said as she drove.

“it’s giving me a headache” you complained, making her roll her eyes for the second time that night.

“what do you listen uh? let me guess? taylor swift?” she said almost too annoyed.

“hey! she’s a good artist! and no, i listen other people too! i listen to people who actually make music and not scream into a microphone for three minutes straight” oh you were so in for a tease right now and seeing how she scrunched her nose made you feel like you were hitting the right buttons.

“let’s not start or i’ll drop you here in the middle of the road” she joked, clearly amused by the whole situation. you ended up sitting there and watching her driving fast around town.

she helped you with the bags and only left your hotel room once she made sure that you were okay. she even left you her phone number so you could call her in case something happened - as she said.

a week has passed and you couldn’t even lie to yourself - you were actually enjoying texting rhea and having random conversations in the middle of the night with her. you remember texting her once you got home and asked her if she wanted to come over as you were bored and reluctantly she accepted.

she would be lying to herself but you attracted her. you were like a magnet and she couldn’t get enough of you. she would help you any time you asked her.

randomly going through your tiktok, you heard the bell ringing and without thinking twice, you slowly got up and opened the door, finding an adorable rhea ripley with junk food in one hand and a pink fluffy blanket in the other.

you looked at her for a second, too stunned to speak.

“you letting me in or are we going to stare at each other all day long?” she asked, her usual sarcastic tone lingering with some sneaky jokes too.

“oh sorry, yeah, come in…i wasn’t expecting you with food and a pink blanket…i actually wasn’t expecting you at all” you joked, trying to ease the tension a little bit because you had no idea why was rhea in your living room now.

“i was at the supermarket and i had my day off, i saw the blanket and i thought you would like it…here” she handed you the blanket almost as she was annoyed by it, trying to maintain her dark and mean side but deep down you knew that she was a softie.

you gladly accepted the gift and invited her to sit on the couch with you “what about the food?” you teased her, seeing her rolling her eyes at any remark you made was now a habit.

“i was hungry and i thought you would like some food too…” she tried so hard not to go soft with you but your smile and bubbly personality were making it hard for her.

“rhea ripley thought of me? i feel honoured” you laughed making her giggle.

“shut up and eat while i pick a movie…” she stated as she started swiping movies catalogue on netflix.

she chose something fun, something romantic, knowing that it was your favourite genre of film.

“i’m pretty sure you’re studying me so in two weeks you know how to make me lose against you for the title run” you joked, making her laugh.

“honey, there’s no way you’re gonna beat my ass during that run, that’s my title and my title only but i’ll happily pin you down” she turned her face to you, a sneaky smirk on her face as her mind fantasised about the idea of having to pin you down, under her body.

“you so sure about that ripley?” you tested her “what if i am the one to pin you down?

rhea wouldn’t mind having you over her to be honest. in any other situation she would have let you being in charge but not when there was her title on the line.

“we will see in a couple of weeks” she winked “now watch the movie before i put some freaky horror on” she teased you knowing how much you hated horror movies.

“okay mami” you whispered making her roll her eyes - again. you displayed the pink blanket over your body and over rhea’s body too “before you say anything, it’s cold outside and i don’t wanna hear you complain for the next two hours” but rhea definitely wasn’t going to complain. she never had you so close, your body was like a magnet and was so close to hers that it was enough to keep her warm. your head softly laid over her shoulder and even if you couldn’t see her, you felt her body relax against you.

maybe she was going to pin you in the ring but you knew who was really in charge outside of the company and seeing her so calm and relaxed in your presence made you feel something different about your friendship, as if there was something more but you couldn’t really point it out.

spending the rest of the night in each other’s company, joking and laughing about the smallest things.

as the second movie of the night ended, you really needed to stretch yourself out as you grew a little uncomfortable sitting for almost four hours in the same position. she helped you standing up and you slowly tested the water, instead of putting your hands around her shoulders as you always did, you put them around her waist.

the height difference between you two was pretty obvious but that didn’t stop you to have your way with her “i have a feeling you feel something for me” you teased her watching her in her eyes.

“i don’t know what you are talking about…” she tried so hard to maintain her composure but she was struggling, especially when she had you so close.

“so what if i asked you to kiss me? would you back up?” you always been a tease but this was something else even for you.

“no…” she whispered, her eyes softly looking down at you.

before she could make any move, you kissed her. your lips meeting her soft ones, a smile pressed on her face as you kept kissing her “i’m definitely gonna pin you rhea” you whispered, making her chuckle.

“keep dreaming barbie” as she grew more comfortable, her hand moved behind your back and pressed you against her body “remember, it’s always monday night mami…” her devious look was back as if you helped her gain her confidence back around you.

“you know…i’m always in for a challenge…”

yeah, maybe she was the rhea ripley but you knew how good you were and being able to tease her and make her so flustered around you was definitely a weapon in your sleeve.

“we will see pretty girl…” falling in love with the enemy wasn’t definitely her plan but somehow you managed to make her heart beat faster anytime you were close and now she felt like she couldn’t get enough of you.

————————————-

i’m receiving a few requests and i’m trying to overcome my writer block 🤞🏼🩷 thank you for your patience and kind words 🩷🩷

[lila-lou]

✨Age gap crush - Pt. 2/2✨

Summary: Jensen froze—biggest age gap crush? Jared smirked, already knowing the answer. Because Jensen didn’t do attachments. But with you? He already had.

-requested-

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Language

Word Count: 6943

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 🩷

Later that day, back in the car, Jensen barely even heard Jared talking. He was too busy texting you. It wasn’t even a question of if he’d see you tonight. That was a given. It was just about what to order in—because he sure as hell wasn’t planning on going out with Jared like they usually did after conventions. Again. Unusual. For just a fling, at least.

Jensen knew that. He wasn’t stupid. But right now? He didn’t care. All he wanted was to get back to the hotel, have you in his arms, and not deal with the fact that Jared was about to tease the absolute shit out of him. Which, of course, Jared did. Jensen had barely typed out "Pizza or sushi?", before Jared let out a low, amused hum from beside him.

"That her?", Jared murmured, arms casually crossed, like he wasn’t clearly watching Jensen text. Jensen didn’t even look up. "Shut up, dude".

Jared chuckled, shaking his head. "Nah, I just think it’s funny", he mused. "You usually ditch whoever you’re seeing the second we wrap a con. But now?". Jensen’s jaw tightened as he hit send.

"Now, I gotta fight for your damn attention", Jared finished, mock-offended. Jensen sighed, finally looking over at him. "Jesus, man, it’s not that deep".

Jared just grinned, fully enjoying himself. "Yeah? So tell me why you haven’t even asked if I wanted to grab dinner".

Jensen hesitated. Not because he didn’t have an answer—but because Jared already knew it. And when Jensen didn’t immediately fire back, Jared’s grin widened.

"Yeah", Jared muttered under his breath, fully entertained, shaking his head as he stared out the window.

Jensen sat back against the car seat, crossing his arms, jaw tight, trying his best to ignore the smug energy radiating off of Jared. It wasn’t working. Because Jared wasn’t done. Not even close. “So, uh…”, Jared drawled, tapping his fingers against his knee, side-eyeing Jensen like he was about to drop some real dumbass shit. “Just curious—when exactly did we stop being each other’s post-convention dinner dates?”.

Jensen sighed loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Dude—”.

“I mean, I get it”, Jared continued, ignoring him. “It’s a big step. You and me? We’ve had a good run. But now I gotta find someone new to eat with? That’s just cold, man”.

Jensen rolled his eyes, pulling his phone back out, not even humoring him with a response. Jared just grinned, eyes flicking to the screen Jensen had just unlocked. Your name. Still sitting there in his texts. Jensen immediately tilted his phone away, but it was too late.

Jared snorted. “Jesus, dude. You are down bad”.

Jensen’s fingers tightened around his phone. “Padalecki, I swear to—”.

“You’re texting her about food? Food?”, Jared cut in, his tone somewhere between mock disbelief and sheer amusement. “Not even a ‘hey, what’s up?’ Just straight to ordering in like a goddamn married couple?”.

Jensen clenched his jaw, refusing to engage.

"Goddamn", Jared muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "It’s worse than I thought".

Jensen exhaled slowly, forcing himself to ignore him. Because here’s the thing, Jared wasn’t wrong. Jensen had spent years keeping shit casual, keeping things light, never getting too attached—especially now. But this? This thing with you? Yeah. This was different. And Jared? He fucking knew it.

Jensen didn’t even look up from his phone as he typed out a simple “Pizza it is”. But before he could hit send, Jared spoke up again. "I’m for pizza too". Jensen’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing at Jared, who was grinning like an absolute menace. Jensen squinted. “The hell you are”.

Jared shrugged, completely unbothered. “What? You didn’t say it was just a two-person meal”.

"Because it is".

Jared’s grin widened. “See, that’s interesting. Because usually, you don’t care if I tag along. Usually, I’m welcome”.

Jensen rolled his eyes, shoving his phone into his pocket, not rising to the bait. “You don’t even like hotel pizza, dude”.

"Yeah, but I like seeing you squirm". Jared shot back, eyes gleaming with pure entertainment. "And I really, really wanna see how this plays out".

Jensen let out a long, deep sigh, dragging a hand down his face. "You are such a pain in my ass".

Jared beamed. "Yeah, but you love me anyway".

Jensen knew Jared was right behind him, and he hated every second of it.

He shot his best friend a side glance, watching the way Jared was clearly too entertained, shoulders relaxed, hands in his pockets, like he was just here to observe. Like this was a damn science experiment.

Jensen gritted his teeth, swiping his key card and stepping into the room, already bracing himself for whatever the hell this night was about to turn into. And then he saw you. Lying on the bed, stretched out, comfortable, completely oblivious to the fact that his best friend was right behind him. And fuck. You were wearing his shirt. That shouldn’t have done something to him, but it did.

That familiar, worn-out t-shirt draped over your frame, riding up just enough to tease bare thighs, smooth skin… And underneath? Jensen had no idea. But he had a feeling you were about to show him. His pulse kicked up, his entire body reacting instantly, but then, Jared stepped in behind him. And you noticed.

Your relaxed expression vanished, your eyes widening instantly as you sat up fast, gripping the hem of the shirt, clearly not expecting company. Jensen winced, already anticipating what was coming.

Jared was grinning like a bastard. “Well”, Jared said, clearly enjoying the hell out of this. “Look at you. All cozy”.

Your eyes snapped to Jensen, mouth opening, then closing, completely thrown off. Jensen sighed, running a hand down his face. “Yeah, so… Jared invited himself”. “Obviously”, you muttered, still clutching the hem of the shirt, cheeks flushing.

Jared plopped down into the chair by the window, leaning back like he had all the time in the world. Before Jared could open his mouth with whatever smartass comment he had lined up, you quickly mumbled, "I’m getting dressed", and practically bolted into the bathroom, slamming the door behind you.

Jensen barely hid his smirk as he watched you flee. He couldn’t blame you—Jared had a way of making situations like this ten times worse just by existing. With a heavy sigh, Jensen walked further into the room, then reached back and shoved the door shut, locking Jared inside with him.

"That was a little dramatic, don’t you think?", Jared teased, stretching his legs out like he was making himself real comfortable.

Jensen just shot him a look, rubbing the back of his neck, his mind still half-distracted by the way you looked in his damn shirt, as his eyes landed on something.

A small shopping bag. Right next to the bed. Jensen frowned, walking closer, his gaze sharpening as he read the label. Aubade. His stomach flipped. He knew that brand. Very well. It was your favorite. And that little, innocent-looking bag? Was empty. Fuck.

Jensen’s throat went dry, his brain quickly catching up to what that meant. And suddenly, his entire perspective of the night shifted. Because if that bag was empty, that meant whatever you’d bought was already on you. Under that shirt. In that bathroom. Right now.

Fucking shit.

Jensen exhaled sharply, dragging a hand over his face, suddenly feeling ten times more frustrated than he already was. Because this night was not supposed to go like this. And now, Jared was sitting in the damn chair, completely ruining any chance of him seeing exactly what you had planned. Jensen clenched his jaw, his patience officially gone. Jared needed to get the hell out. Immediately.

Jensen shot Jared a sharp look, one that clearly meant You are the biggest pain in my ass, before pushing himself off the wall and walking straight toward the bathroom.

Jared barely had time to react before Jensen muttered lowly, "I’m coming in", and pushed the door open, stepping inside without hesitation. You gasped, your hands frozen mid-motion as you were about to slip on your yoga pants, your top still lying on the counter. And Jensen? Jensen saw everything. Fuck. His entire body locked up as his eyes dragged slowly over you, taking in every inch of what you were wearing. It was new. Black, delicate, lace-trimmed Aubade lingerie, hugging every curve, dipping low where it should, sitting high on your hips, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. His breathing stalled, his grip on the door tightening.

His head fell back, groaning. Annoyed. Turned on. Frustrated as hell. Because holy shit, you looked unbelievable. And because Jared, his absolute dumbass best friend, was still sitting in the next room, completely ruining the moment.

"You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me", Jensen muttered under his breath, running a frustrated hand down his face, his entire body burning. You blinked, startled at first, before realization dawned in your eyes—the way he was looking at you, the way he was standing there like he wanted to either punch a wall or pin you against one.

A slow, knowing smirk curled your lips. "Problem?", you asked, voice dripping with fake innocence, tilting your head as you stood there, completely unapologetic for how wrecked you just made him.

Jensen exhaled sharply, shaking his head, jaw clenching tight. "Yeah", he muttered, voice low, strained, dangerous. "You".

You bit your lip, stepping just slightly closer, watching the way his hands flexed, like he was holding himself back from reaching for you.

Jensen’s jaw ticked, his eyes still dark as he stood there, doing his best to keep his damn hands to himself.

And then you spoke.

“Thought you might be exhausted after getting drooled over for so many hours…”. Your voice was smooth, teasing, your fingers trailing over his chest, brushing over the fabric of his t-shirt, light as a feather but devastating all the same. “So I wanted to put on a little show tonight”.

Jensen groaned softly, his grip on the doorframe tightening, his entire body on edge. You let your fingers drift lower, just briefly, before you suddenly pinched his stomach, your expression turning mock-innocent as you pulled away.

“But we’ve got company”. And with that, you turned around, grabbing your yoga pants and stepping into them, like you were just going to let him suffer in silence.

Yeah. No fucking way. Jensen moved before he even thought about it, his hands grabbing your waist, yanking you back against him before you could even pull the damn pants all the way up.

Your breath caught, your body colliding with his, your back flush against his chest, trapped against solid muscle and heat.

Jensen’s lips hovered just below your ear, his breath slow, heavy, controlled, but barely. "That’s real cute, sweetheart", he muttered, his voice low, gravelly, dangerous.

You swallowed hard, feeling the way his fingers flexed against your waist, his grip possessive, firm, but not rough. Not yet. Jensen smirked, his lips brushing your skin as he leaned in closer. "But you and I both know", he murmured, voice gritted, thick with frustration, "you’re not getting away with that".

Your stomach flipped, your hands gripping his wrists, feeling the way his fingers tightened ever so slightly, keeping you right there.

His voice dropped even lower, a quiet, warning growl. "Jared or no Jared, you just started something. And I promise you—I'm gonna finish it". And fuck. You really, really hoped Jared would leave soon.

Your breath caught, your body going still as Jensen’s hand slipped inside your lace panties, fingers trailing lower, just barely teasing over where you were already aching for him.

His other arm tightened around your waist, keeping you pressed against his chest, your back molded to the hard planes of his stomach, making sure you couldn’t squirm away.

Not that you wanted to. "Jensen—", you started, your voice barely a whisper, but he just shushed you, his lips ghosting over the curve of your neck.

"Shhh, sweetheart", he murmured, his voice rough, gravelly, sending a shiver down your spine. "You don’t wanna let Jared hear, do you?".

Fuck. Your fingers gripped his wrists, but it was useless—he was too strong, his grip too firm, holding you exactly where he wanted you, before his fingers dipped lower. Your entire body jerked, a quiet, shaky breath slipping out as he brushed right over your clit, slow, taunting, the lace doing nothing to dull the sensation.

Jensen let out a low chuckle, amused at how quickly you reacted. "Fuck", he muttered, voice thick with approval, his fingers pressing just a little firmer, making your stomach clench, thighs trembling. "This all for me?".

Your cheeks burned, your body betraying you, hips subtly rolling into his touch, but he just held you still, torturing you with the slowest, most maddening pace imaginable.

"Thought you were supposed to be getting dressed", he murmured, his smirk audible in his voice. "But now? Look at you".

His fingers slipped under the lace completely, skin to skin now, teasing over your already soaking folds, spreading the wetness with slow, calculated strokes. Your knees almost buckled, your hand slapping against the counter for support. Jensen grinned against your neck, his other arm keeping you steady, keeping you right where he wanted. "You wanted to put on a little show tonight?", he taunted, voice dark, teasing. "I think you forgot who the hell you’re dealing with".

Your breath hitched, your body desperately needing more, but just as you were about to grind against his fingers, but then there was a knock on the bathroom door. "Hey, lovebirds!", Jared’s voice rang through the room, amused, smug as hell. "Y’all coming out anytime soon, or should I just assume you’re giving me a free concert?".

Jensen let out a frustrated groan, his head falling against your shoulder, his fingers still pressed against you, but now frozen, caught in the act.

You bit your lip hard, barely holding back a whimper, your body on fire, needing him to keep going—but now? Completely stuck.

Jensen sighed heavily, reluctantly pulling his hand away, but not before one last slow, torturous stroke, just to punish you for teasing him earlier. You exhaled shakily, glaring at the door. Jared was so fucking dead.

Jensen’s hand rested on your hip, his grip still firm, his voice low and dangerous in your ear. "This ain’t over".

And you knew, without a doubt, the second Jared left? You were in for it.

The three of you sat around the small hotel table, the smell of melted cheese and pepperoni filling the air. Jensen had finally relaxed, his arm resting on the back of his chair, a slice of pizza in one hand as he talked about the convention.

But Jared wasn’t really listening to the words coming out of Jensen’s mouth. No, he was too busy watching how Jensen was talking. Because it wasn’t normal. Not the way he usually recounted convention stories, throwing in snarky remarks and playful exaggerations just for the hell of it. Not the way he usually bullshitted his way through conversations just to keep things light and entertaining.

No. This was different. Jensen was telling you about his day, and only you. Sure, Jared was sitting right there, but it was like Jensen forgot he existed.

His eyes stayed on you, his voice a little softer, his usual cocky smirk replaced with something more real. His words weren’t just casual storytelling—they were meant for you, directed at you. Like he wanted you to know. Like he wanted to share it with you.

Jared sat back in his chair, chewing on his pizza thoughtfully, watching as you leaned in slightly, nodding along, smiling, actually engaged in what he was saying.

And Jensen was eating that shit up. The way his eyes crinkled when you laughed, the way his gaze flickered to your lips when you smiled, the way his fingers absentmindedly tapped against the table—yeah. Jared had seen this before. But not from Jensen. At least, not like this. Then, he exhaled slowly, setting his pizza down, deciding to test something.

Jensen was so distracted, so caught up in the way you were looking at him, the way you were actually listening to him, that he didn’t notice the way Jared’s smirk started to curl. Oh, yeah. This was gonna be fun.

Jared stretched, fake casual, before tilting his head toward you. “So”, he said, wiping his hands on a napkin, “you got a boyfriend?”.

Jensen froze mid-sentence, his pizza halfway to his mouth. You blinked, caught off guard, before letting out a small laugh. “What?”.

Jared smirked, eyes flicking between you and Jensen, deliberately dragging it out.

“You know, besides being Jensen’s little…”, he trailed off, pausing for dramatic effect, then grinned. “…companion”.

Jensen’s brows shot up, his jaw tightening slightly as he set his pizza down with a soft thud. "Dude”, Jensen muttered, his voice low, warning.

Jared just laughed, holding up his hands. “What? It’s a valid question”.

You bit your lip, watching the way Jensen’s whole demeanor shifted, not quite angry, but something close. Possessive. Protective. And Jared saw it too.

Jensen’s jaw tightened, his fingers curling into a loose fist against the table as he exhaled slowly. Because fuck. Jared was poking the bear, as usual, just to get a reaction—but this time, it actually worked. Because until this exact second, Jensen had never actually thought about it. About you… with someone else. And the realization that it would bother the hell out of him?

Yeah. That was a problem. Because in Jensen’s world—in Hollywood—things were different. Cheating, open arrangements, casual flings, people sleeping around even when they were supposedly with someone else… none of it was uncommon. He’d seen it. Hell, he and danneel had done it themselves.

Jensen's eyes flicked to you, waiting for an answer. Because up until now, he’d never felt the need to ask. Never felt the urge to clarify where you stood. But now it was different. He wasn’t sure why.

Maybe it was the way Jared had phrased it. Maybe it was the teasing smirk on his best friend’s face, the way he was waiting to see Jensen react. Or maybe it was because Jensen knew exactly what this world was like.

Hell, he and Danneel had been in one of those marriages, the kind where sleeping with other people wasn’t exactly off the table as long as it stayed quiet. It had worked, for a while. Until it didn’t.

So why did the thought of you with someone else make something hot and bitter coil in his chest? His eyes stayed on you, unreadable, his body too still.

You swallowed, choosing your words carefully. "I don’t really have time for that", you finally said, tilting your head slightly, watching the way Jensen's shoulders stayed tense even after your answer. "Between work and… other things".

Jensen exhaled through his nose, jaw tight, fingers tapping once against the table before he finally leaned back.

"Right", he muttered, taking another sip of his drink.

Jared grinned, catching every damn microexpression Jensen was trying to bury.

"So basically", Jared said, sitting back, looking way too amused, "Jensen doesn’t share, huh?".

Jensen’s head snapped toward him, narrowing his eyes. "Jesus, dude".

You laughed, shaking your head. But Jensen wasn’t laughing. Because for the first time, he wasn’t so sure he liked what this thing between you two was anymore. Because he knew what it wasn’t. Casual.

Jensen tried to play it cool, tried to act like Jared’s words didn’t just expose something he hadn’t even admitted to himself yet. But the truth was? Jared was right. And that pissed him off. Because Jensen doesn’t share. Not when he actually gives a damn. And fuck, somewhere along the way, without even realizing it, he’d started giving a damn about you.

He ran his tongue over his teeth, staying quiet, leaning back in his chair like he wasn’t completely rethinking everything, while Jared was having the time of his life.

"Alright, I’m just sayin’", Jared continued, fully enjoying himself now, “for a guy who swears this is just a casual thing, you sure look like you’re about to break something".

Jensen let out a slow breath, glaring at Jared, his voice low, gritted. "You done?".

Jared grinned, popping another piece of pizza into his mouth. "Oh, not even close, man".

You bit your lip, watching the way Jensen’s fingers flexed on the table, his entire posture tense, like he was holding himself back. That was interesting. Because up until now, Jensen was always in control. Always the one calling the shots, always the one dictating what this thing was between you two. But right now, Jared had shaken something loose. And you could see it all over him.

You smirked, playing with the rim of your drink, letting the silence stretch a little longer before finally tilting your head. "So…", you mused, your tone light, teasing, but your words deliberate, "is that true?".

Jensen’s gaze snapped to you, green eyes sharp, something dark and possessive flickering behind them. "Is what true?", he asked, voice low, measured, like he was daring you to push.

You raised a brow. "That you don’t share?".

Jared let out a low whistle, muttering a quiet “oh, shit” under his breath, but neither of you looked at him. This wasn’t about Jared anymore. This was between you and Jensen.

Jensen held your gaze, his expression unreadable, his jaw ticking once before he finally exhaled through his nose, before he leaned in, his forearms resting on the table, his entire focus on you now. "You looking for an answer, sweetheart?", he murmured, his voice gravelly, his eyes locked onto yours.

Your stomach flipped, but you held his gaze, refusing to back down. "Maybe", you mused, feigning nonchalance.

Jensen’s lips curved, but his eyes? Dead serious. "Then listen real close", he muttered, fingers curling slightly against the table. "I don’t".

The air in the room shifted. Your breath hitched, heat flaring through you, but you refused to let him see how much that answer affected you.

Jared, meanwhile, let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he leaned back in his chair. "Well, damn", he muttered. "That took a turn".

Jensen ignored him, his gaze still fixed on you, waiting. Waiting to see what you’d say next. What you’d do next. And you? You suddenly had a whole new game to play.

The air was thick now, something heavy and unspoken sitting between you and Jensen. You held his gaze, heart pounding, heat coiling low in your stomach at the way he looked at you. Like he’d just staked a claim. Like he’d just decided something—about you, about this, about whatever the hell it was between you two.

"Well", Jared finally broke the silence, stretching his arms over his head. "This has been wildly entertaining, but I should probably head out before the tension in this room sets something on fire".

You barely registered his words. Because Jensen hadn’t moved. Hadn’t blinked. Hadn’t looked away from you once.

Jared stood up, grabbing his jacket, shaking his head with a low chuckle. "Seriously, man", he muttered, clapping Jensen on the shoulder. "Next time, just write Property of Jensen Ackles on her and save us all the trouble". Jensen gritted his teeth, but before he could snap back, you let out a soft, amused laugh, leaning forward slightly.

"Next time?", you mused, raising a brow. "Sounds like you think there’s gonna be a next time, Jared". Jared’s grin widened, looking between the two of you. "Oh, there’s a next time", he said with full confidence, already heading toward the door. "And the two of you are the last people to figure it out". Jensen let out a low, irritated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as the door swung shut behind Jared.

Jensen leaned back in his chair, dragging a slow hand down his face before letting out a heavy exhale. "That guy’s a real pain in my ass", he muttered.

You smirked, taking another slow sip of your drink. "Yeah?", you mused, tilting your head. "Because he calls you out on your shit?".

Jensen’s lips twitched, but his eyes were still locked on you, assessing, like he was still trying to figure out exactly what to do with you now. "Because he doesn’t know when to shut the hell up", Jensen corrected, but his voice was lower now, rougher, like his patience was starting to wear thin. And not in a bad way.

Your smirk widened, leaning back in your chair, watching him. "So", you said slowly, your fingers tracing the rim of your glass, playing with him now. "You don’t share, huh?".

Jensen exhaled sharply, shaking his head with a quiet chuckle, before suddenly pushing back his chair, standing up, and walking toward you. You swallowed. Oh, shit.

He stopped just beside your chair, looking down at you, one hand braced on the table, the other gripping the back of your chair as he leaned in close. "You think that’s funny?", he murmured, voice gravelly, his breath warm against your skin.

Your breath hitched, but you forced yourself to hold your ground, tilting your chin up. "A little", you admitted, feigning innocence.

Jensen smirked, but his eyes? Not amused. "Yeah?", he murmured, his fingers brushing your knee, sliding just slightly higher, his touch deliberate, teasing.

Your stomach flipped, your body already reacting, betraying you.

Jensen’s lips brushed your ear, his voice dropping even lower. "Then let me make something real clear, sweetheart", he muttered, his fingers trailing higher, his grip tightening. "You’re mine".

Your breath caught, heat surging through you, your fingers curling against your lap.

Jensen’s lips curled into a satisfied smirk, his voice like gravel and sin as he pulled back just slightly, enough to look you in the eyes. "And I don’t fucking share".

Jensen’s fingers tightened on the back of your chair as he pushed it back, the legs scraping against the hotel floor with a deliberate slowness that sent a shiver down your spine. His green eyes flickered with something dark, something possessive, something that made your pulse skip as he tilted his head slightly, watching you. "Get on the bed". His voice was low, firm, certain. It wasn’t a request.

Your breath caught, heat curling deep in your stomach, because—fuck. He was serious. You swallowed, your body thrumming with anticipation, but you held his gaze, refusing to break the tension. "That an order?", you mused, challenging him, just to see how far you could push.

Jensen’s smirk was dangerous, his fingers dragging slowly along the edge of the table as he leaned in just a little. "You wanna find out what happens if you don’t listen?", he murmured, voice rough, his tone dripping with warning.

Your stomach flipped, a pulse of heat shooting through you, because yeah, you wanted to find out. But you also knew this was a game Jensen would win every time. So, instead of pushing further, you let out a slow, steady exhale, keeping your movements deliberate as you slowly stood up, your chair nudging back against the table.

Jensen’s eyes tracked every step you took as you moved toward the bed, his jaw ticking slightly, his fingers flexing at his sides, like he was holding himself back.

The second the back of your knees hit the mattress, you stopped, tilting your head. "Now what?", you asked, voice light, teasing.

Jensen let out a low, amused chuckle, shaking his head as he stepped closer—slow, predatory, his hands slipping into his pockets like he wasn’t already planning a hundred different ways to ruin you. He stopped in front of you, his body close, towering, his heat pressing into yours without even touching you.

He leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice pure gravel. "Now?". His hands slid to your hips, fingers curling into the fabric of your waistband, his touch possessive, claiming. "Now I make sure you don’t forget exactly who you belong to".

His hands gripped your waist, pushing you back onto the bed in one smooth motion, making you gasp, your body bouncing slightly against the mattress.

Your heart hammered, heat surging through your veins, but you still had the nerve to smirk up at him. "Possessive much?", you mused, tilting your head, even as your thighs pressed together in anticipation.

Jensen let out a low, dark chuckle, his hands trailing slowly down your legs, eyes locked onto yours as he hooked his fingers under your waistband. "You think that’s news, sweetheart?", he murmured, his voice gravelly, dangerous, teasing.

Without warning, he yanked your yoga pants down, slow enough to make you ache, his eyes darkening as more of you was revealed, his jaw clenching slightly. Because there it was. The lingerie. The one you’d put on just for him. The one he hadn’t gotten the chance to fully appreciate earlier because of Jared.

Jensen’s breath came out slow, measured, his fingers tracing over the delicate lace, his eyes tracking every little reaction you gave him. "Yeah, see…", he murmured, gritting his teeth as his hands spanned your thighs, holding you in place. "This? This is a problem".

You swallowed hard, watching the way his entire demeanor shifted, like he was holding himself back just enough to make you lose your mind. "A problem?", you echoed, feigning innocence, even as your body betrayed you, reacting to every little movement, every little touch.

Jensen let out a slow, low hum, his fingers pressing in just enough to make your thighs twitch. "Yeah", he said, tilting his head. "Because you put this on knowing damn well what it would do to me". His voice dropped even lower, his fingers dragging over the lace with slow, lazy strokes, teasing, taunting, making your breath stutter. "And now?". His smirk was dark, satisfied, knowing. "Now I gotta do something about it".

Jensen’s hands tightened on your thighs, his fingers teasing over the delicate lace just enough to make your skin burn.

Your breath hitched, anticipation curling through you, but you still had the nerve to smirk up at him, your fingers curling into the sheets beneath you. "Do something about it, then", you murmured, challenging him, your voice low, teasing.

Jensen’s jaw ticked, his green eyes darkening, tracking every little reaction you gave him. "Sweetheart", he murmured, his fingers hooking under the lace, tugging it just slightly, letting it snap back against your skin in a way that sent a sharp pulse of heat through you. "You really shouldn’t test me right now".

Your stomach flipped, but you refused to break, tilting your head, pushing him just a little further. "Or what?", you mused, voice light, feigning innocence.

Jensen let out a low, dark chuckle, his fingers trailing up your inner thigh, slow, deliberate, his breath steady, controlled—but barely. "You really wanna find out?", he muttered, voice like gravel and sin, his thumb brushing over the lace, teasing exactly where you needed him the most.

Your breath stuttered, your thighs clenching, and Jensen saw it—felt it—his smirk deepening in satisfaction.

"Yeah", he murmured, more to himself than to you, his fingers pressing just slightly harder. "That’s what I thought".

You swallowed, trying to keep control, but the way he was watching you, the way his fingers were barely touching you but still unraveling you completely—it was too much. Your nails dug into the sheets, your body already betraying you, and Jensen knew it.

"You wanna play games, sweetheart?", he murmured, his other hand sliding up your stomach, pushing the hem of his own damn shirt higher on your body.

Your pulse pounded, heat curling low in your belly.

Jensen leaned in, his breath hot against your skin, his lips brushing just below your ear. "Let me remind you who always wins".

Jensen’s smirk turned dangerous, his fingers still teasing over the lace, feeling the way your body reacted to him, the way your breathing had already shifted. His hands left you suddenly, making you whimper at the loss, but before you could even process it— "Take it off". His voice was low, firm, completely in control.

You blinked, your breath catching slightly. "What?".

Jensen reached for the hem of his own shirt, pulling it over his head in one smooth motion, tossing it aside like it was nothing. "The shirt. Off. Now".

Your stomach flipped, heat rushing through you as your fingers gripped the fabric, your body already obeying before you could even think about it. Your pulse pounded as you pulled Jensen’s shirt over your head, exposing more of the lingerie you’d picked just for him, the air cool against your bare skin.

Jensen’s eyes darkened immediately. His jaw tensed, his green gaze tracking every inch of you, lingering on the lace, on the way it hugged you perfectly, leaving just enough to his imagination—but not nearly enough to satisfy him. "Fuck, sweetheart". His voice was low, gritted, his fingers working at the button of his jeans, shoving them down in one smooth motion, never breaking eye contact.

Your breath hitched, your thighs pressing together as you watched him undress, every lean, toned inch of him revealed, your mouth going dry.

Jensen saw it.

And he grinned, running a hand through his hair, his eyes flickering with something heated, something dangerous. "You gonna just sit there staring, or you gonna lay back and let me show you exactly what happens when you push me".

Your stomach flipped once more, heat surging through you, but you still held his gaze, refusing to back down. "Maybe I like pushing you", you murmured, your voice lighter than you felt inside.

Jensen let out a low, amused chuckle, shaking his head as he crawled onto the bed, his body looming over yours, his weight pressing you into the mattress. "Yeah?", he muttered, his breath brushing over your lips, his fingers sliding along the lace strap of your bra, snapping it just slightly, enough to make you shiver. "Then you’re gonna love what happens next".

Jensen’s eyes never left yours as he reached down, his fingers hooking under the waistband of his boxers, pushing them down with zero hesitation.

And fuck—you barely had a second to process how good he looked, how absolutely wrecked he already seemed for you—before his hands were on you again. One firm grip on your waist, the other pressing against your back, flipping you onto your stomach with no effort at all. You gasped, your fingers bracing against the sheets, but before you could even think about moving, Jensen’s hands were on your hips, pulling you back—hard.

“Fucking tease”, he muttered, his voice low, gritted.

Your breath came out shaky, your body reacting immediately, your back arching as he aligned himself behind you, his fingers digging into your hips, holding you firmly in place.

He exhaled sharply, his lips brushing over your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin.

"You wanna push me, sweetheart?", he murmured, his voice dark, dangerous, his grip tightening, holding you still as he dragged himself right against you, teasing, taunting.

Your body shuddered, heat coiling deep in your stomach, but you refused to break, your fingers curling into the sheets.

Jensen let out a low, amused chuckle, his hands trailing down your sides, over the lace, his lips brushing against the nape of your neck. "Hope you know what you started", he muttered, his voice thick with pure need.

Because now, he was gonna make sure you felt this for days.

Jensen’s grip tightened on your hips, his fingers pressing into your skin with a bruising intensity, like he was marking you, making damn sure you knew exactly who you belonged to.

In one sharp, unrelenting thrust, he pushed inside you, stretching you completely, forcing a gasping moan from your lips as he filled you in one stroke.

"Fuck, sweetheart", Jensen groaned, his voice low, gritted, strained, his forehead momentarily dropping against your bare shoulder as he adjusted to the way you clenched around him.

Your fingers curled into the sheets, your back arching, your body thrumming with heat and pleasure and something deeper than either of those things.

He didn’t give you a second to recover—didn’t give himself one either.

Jensen’s hands slid up your waist, up your back, gripping the straps of your lace bra, using them as leverage as he snapped his hips forward again, dragging a choked moan from your lips.

"Yeah, that’s it, baby", he muttered, his voice like gravel and sin, his hands controlling every movement, every push, every pull. "You feel that?", he gritted out, pulling back just enough to make you whimper before thrusting deep again, hitting that spot that made your entire body tremble.

Your breath came out ragged, your moans helpless, your body completely at his mercy as he set a pace that had you already unraveling.

Jensen let out a low chuckle, his lips brushing over your shoulder, his voice teasing, wrecked, but still so in control.

"Yeah, you love pushing me, huh?", he muttered, his grip tightening, his pace relentless. "Let’s see how much you can take".

Jensen’s grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your skin as he slammed into you again, his pace unforgiving, completely in control.

Your moans spilled into the sheets, your back arching instinctively, your body taking everything he gave you.

"Fuck, sweetheart", Jensen groaned, his voice low, rough, his breath hot against your skin. "You feel how deep I am?".

You could only whimper, your nails clawing at the sheets, because yes—you felt it. All of it. Every inch, every deliberate thrust, every time he buried himself inside you like he was staking a claim.

Jensen let out a gritty chuckle, his chest pressing against your back as he leaned over you, his lips grazing your ear, his pace never faltering. "Not so cocky now, huh?", he murmured, his voice teasing, but wrecked all the same.

Your stomach clenched, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps, but you still managed to push back against him, earning a sharp groan from Jensen.

That did something to him.

His hands left your waist, grabbing your wrists, pulling them behind your back, pinning you beneath him as his pace quickened, harder, deeper, relentless.

"Shit, Jay", you gasped, your body trembling, pleasure coiling so tight you could barely breathe.

Jensen’s grip on your wrists tightened, his lips brushing against your jaw, your shoulder, his voice gritted, desperate, possessive. "That’s it, baby. Take it. All of it".

And you did. Because he wasn’t giving you a choice.

Your entire body tightened, your back arching, your breath catching in your throat as the pleasure hit you full force. "Jensen—", you gasped, your voice breaking, your thighs shaking as the orgasm ripped through you, wave after relentless wave.

Jensen let out a low, guttural groan, feeling you clench around him, his grip on your wrists tightening, his body throbbing with need as he kept driving into you, dragging it out, making sure you felt every second of it.

"Fuck—," he gritted out, his rhythm stuttering for the first time, his hands gripping your hips with bruising force, his breath hot against your ear.

Your legs nearly gave out, your body completely wrecked, but Jensen didn’t let up. Didn’t let you come down. His pace stayed brutal, chasing his own release, using your body like it belonged to him. And fuck, you wanted it to. "That’s it, sweetheart", Jensen muttered, voice rough, wrecked, his hands tight on your waist, keeping you right where he wanted you. "Fucking perfect—".

His thrusts grew erratic, his breath gritted, his body tensing against yours. With a low, wrecked groan, he buried himself deep, his fingers digging into your skin, his release spilling inside you, hot, overwhelming, endless.

He stilled, his forehead dropping against your shoulder, his breath ragged, his hands still holding you tight, grounding both of you.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was your uneven breathing, the heat between your bodies, the aftermath of everything that just happened.

Jensen let out a slow, shaky breath, finally loosening his grip, letting your hands go, his fingers tracing over the marks he’d just left on your skin.

He smirked against your shoulder, his lips brushing over your damp skin as he whispered, "Yeah. You’re not going anywhere".

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 

-

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @barnes70stark @roseblue373 @shanimallina87 @ascarriel @deanwinchesters67impala @thebiggerbear @quietgirll75 @barnes70stark @kellyls04 @spxideyver @ralilda @americanvenom13 @ozwriterchick @mayafatimakhan @spnaquakindgdom

[sixeyesonathiel]

omg hello I read ur free throws and figure drawings one shot and im still so in love w how u characterized him can we please get a pt 2 or sum headcannons ate athy 🥰🥰💗💓💝💘💞💕💖

AWWW THANK YOU SO MUCH ANON. yall have no idea how heartwarming it is to be complimented over my characterization of satoru <3 part 2 is highly possible someday!! but here's some FTAFD satoru headcanons for the mean time 😼🩷

highly recommend to read free throws & figure drawings first before reading this for the best experience <3

satoru isn’t just your multi-purpose muse & boyfriend. he is also your personal cheerleader now.

every time you finish a sketch, he’s leaning over your shoulder, gasping dramatically like it’s a masterpiece worthy of a museum. “holy shit, you’re a genius,” he says, even if it’s just a doodle of a coffee cup. he’s genuinely obsessed with your talent and brags about it to everyone.

he’s always got an arm around you—draped over your shoulders, slung around your waist, or just holding your hand like it’s second nature. you’ll be walking to class, and he’s tugging you closer, grinning like an idiot because he can’t stand being more than two inches apart.

you’re “sweetheart,” “lovey,” “honeybunch,” “starlight”—he cycles through them like he’s testing which one makes you blush the most. sometimes he throws in absurd ones like “my divine goddess of acrylics” just to see you roll your eyes.

your hoodie that doesn’t even fit him? his now. your pencil? he’s twirling it between his fingers during practice breaks, claiming it’s his “lucky charm.” he’ll give it back eventually, but only after he’s doodled a tiny heart on it.

he shows up with snacks, a new paintbrush, or some random trinket he “had to get” because it reminded him of you. “saw this and thought of your pretty face,” he says, tossing you a keychain shaped like a basketball with zero explanation.

he’s still got a knack for public declarations too. he’s yelling “that’s my girlfriend!” across the courtyard whenever you’re within earshot. you’re mortified, but he thrives on it, grinning like he’s won the lottery every time someone glances your way.late-night talks

he texts you at 2 a.m. with dumb questions like “do you think i’d look good with a paintbrush tattoo?” but it always turns into him rambling about how lucky he is to have you. you fall asleep to his voice humming through your phone.

he pokes your cheek when you’re focused, smirking as he says, “you’re too cute when you’re serious.” he knows it annoys you, but the way he leans in to kiss your pout afterward makes it impossible to stay mad.

he’s always showing off for you. at every game, he’s winking at you from the court, sinking shots and pointing at you like it’s all for your approval. “that one’s for you, babe,” he mouths, even if you’re trying to hide in the bleachers.

when he thinks you’re not looking, he watches you paint with this dopey, lovesick smile. his usual cockiness melts away, and he’s just a guy stupidly, hopelessly in love with you.

he always carries your stuff. your art supplies? he’s got them slung over his shoulder without asking, complaining loudly—“these weigh a ton, you owe me”—but he never lets you carry them yourself.

he kisses you everywhere. forehead, cheeks, nose, lips—he’s a menace about it. he’ll sneak one when you’re mid-sentence, laughing when you sputter, “satoru, i’m talking!” “yeah, but i needed that,” he shrugs.

he always checks on you. he texts you mid-day, “you eat yet?” and shows up with food if you say no. he’s an idiot about it, but it’s his way of showing he’s always thinking of you.

he drags you to the arcade because “you need a break,” then spends all his quarters trying to win you a stuffed animal. you end up with five because he refuses to lose.

he loves sleeping on you. he flops onto your lap after practice, whining about how tired he is, but really he just wants to feel your fingers in his hair. you complain, but he’s already snoring softly, clinging like a koala.

he is always proud of your achievements. when your art gets picked for an exhibition, he’s louder than you about it, dragging his teammates to see it and pointing at your work like, “that’s hers, i’m dating a legend.”

one night, he’s sprawled across your bed, half-asleep, muttering nonsense about basketball stats, when he suddenly rolls over, props himself up on his elbow, and looks at you like you hung the moon. “hey,” he whispers, voice all gravelly and warm, “if i ever stop being this stupid over you, just… kick me, okay?”

a/n : dunno if im doing this headcanon thing right it's my first time doing it XD

[moonstruckme]

happy new year lovie!!!! i feel bad for requesting this bc just thinking ab the volume of ur inbox is a little overwhelming and ive gone a bit overboard 😭

but..... bodyguard!james finds out his mum is quite sick right before his shift one day and leaves to take care of her after letting reader know. he has to take the week off and reader is visiting and bringing them their favorite homecooked meals everyday (which she has memorised bc, bless him, james loves to talk abt his mum) and james is LOVEEESTRUCK. she's there, bright and early every morning (with a different bodyguard bc god forbid she leaves the house with no protection right in front of james' own two eyes!!!) with muffins and flowers and bags of food in hand :( james is enamored and so sweet on her!!!!! and reader is obsessing over how vulnerable and emotionally in tune james is at a time like this!!!!! i'm thinking maybe confessions are getting pretty hard to hold back by the end of the week ☹️🩷

thank you! (if you do decide to write this or if you dont for letting me ramble on in your asks x)

Don't feel bad my love! Thank you for requesting :)

cw: sick family member

bodyguard!James x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

No matter how many times James has visited home throughout his adult life, he always manages to discover something he’s forgotten about living there. Like how particular his mum is about the way the dish towel is folded, or which drawer the scissors are kept in, or the ungodly amount of door-to-door salesmen that come by on a daily basis. 

Lately, he’s being plagued by the last. He recalls them being vaguely annoying when he was younger, but James’ family is currently going through a difficult time that leaves one with somewhat frayed nerves. He very nearly snapped at a particularly tenacious primary school student selling chocolate yesterday. Not one of his finer moments. 

So when the doorbell rings while his mum is trying to sleep down the hall, James has to make an effort to reel his wrath back in before he’s even answered it. 

Funnily enough, any negative emotion completely evaporates when he sees you on the front steps. 

“Hi,” you say, looking apprehensive. 

“Hi,” James echoes. He opens the door the rest of the way, nodding to the fill-in guard you’ve brought with you. “Hey, Singh.”

Singh nods in return. 

“I hope it’s alright that I just came by.” You give him a sheepish sort of smile. “I didn’t even realize I don’t have your phone number until now. You’re always just…there.” 

James laughs, the mood that’s descended over him since getting the call about his mum lifting slightly. “Yeah, I suppose I am. What brings you out, sweetheart?” 

You hoist the bags you’re carrying a bit higher in your arms. “I brought some stuff for you and your mom, if that’s okay.” 

A tiny hand fists around his heart, squeezing pleasantly. “Course it is,” he all but coos. “Come on in. Singh, you alright to stay here and keep watch?” 

Luckily, the other man doesn’t think to remember that James is currently on leave, and so defers to him with a curt nod. James shoots him a smile as you come inside, closing the door behind you. 

“They put Singh on day shift?” he asks, taking one of the bags from you and leading you into the kitchen. “He’s barely finished training.” 

“He seems fine,” you say in your good-natured way. 

“He took you to a location that’s never been reconned without even bringing another guard to post outside.” 

“It’s your mom’s house, Jamie.” The smile is evident in your voice, sweeter even than the smell wafting out of these bags. God, he’s missed you. “I doubt he suspects either of you are going to try and hurt me.” 

“He should be prepared for the possibility,” James says, but he can’t manage to work any menace into his tone even to tease you. You tilt your head at him, mouth curving up to one side like you’re well acquainted with his particular brand of silliness, and he lets his grievances go instantly. “You didn’t have to bring us anything, angel face.” 

You flush a bit at the endearment, directing a soft smile down at his family’s old wooden table (which is great, because now James is in the position of being jealous of a table). “I wanted to do something,” you reply simply. “How’s your mom?” 

“She’s alright.” Not great. Not worse, which is always good. If the only thing he accomplishes in a day is that she doesn’t get worse, James can feel good about that. “She’s sleeping in this morning.” 

“Oh, shit.” Your voice drops to a hush like the breeze blowing through leaves. “I haven’t woken her, have I?” 

James grins. “No, you’re good. She can sleep through anything.” 

You lose a breath. “Right, well I brought some meals to last you a few days,” you say, digging some containers out of the bag. “It can all be heated up whenever you’re ready to eat, and—oh, also some flowers. I know it’s stupid, but I thought they might brighten things up for you two.” James doesn’t think it’s stupid at all, but you go on before he can tell you so. “Can I put these in your freezer? I brought some muffins for this morning too, if you want them.” 

“Yeah,” James says, the word leaving him on a breath. “I mean, yeah to both. Thank you.” He grabs several of the containers as well, showing you to the freezer. You both start cramming them in between things, wherever they’ll fit. He takes note of the food as it goes in, a heady warmth growing in his chest. “Did you make all of this?” 

You hum in brisk affirmation. “I had plenty of time on my hands yesterday. Turns out things are pretty boring without you around.” 

“How’d you know what to make? This is all—these are our favorites.” 

You turn to him, a tenderhearted sort of smile curving your lips. “You talk about your mom a lot, Jamie,” you say. “I know all her favorites by now. And the things she’d make that were your favorites, too.” 

James hadn’t realized he’d spent so much time rambling about his mum. It hurts his chest a bit to think of it now, worse to think that you’d been listening so intently. 

“This is only really enough to get you through a few days,” you go on, oblivious to his yearning, “but I figured I’d come back with more if you’re both alright with it.” You look at him as you pack the last of the food away, your gaze careful. “I don’t want to intrude or anything.” 

“You could never intrude.” James isn’t sure how he gets the words out, his heart ballooning until it’s nearly cutting off his airflow. The cool air breezing onto one side of his face stops, and he realizes you’ve shut the freezer. “This is just…so, so kind of you. I don’t know what to say.” 

“James.” Your voice is soft. Your smile has faded, and now you look at him with an unabashed, steady kindness. “You don’t have to say anything. I can’t stand the thought of you and your mom going through this. I wanted to help, somehow.” One of your shoulders comes up in a sheepish half-shrug. “Even if it’s really small.” 

He wraps his arms around your shoulders, and you hesitate only a second before bringing your arms around him too. You squeeze him tight. James lets himself relish the feel of it, lovelorn. “It’s not small,” he says fervently. “It really…it means a lot, sweetheart.” 

You only squeeze tighter in response. When he lets you go, your gaze is sad. Worried. You ask without prelude, “Are you doing okay?” 

James gives you a half-smile. The truth of it. “Yeah, we’re alright over here. It’s hard to see her like this, but I think everything’s going to be okay.” You nod, solemn in your understanding. “Sounds like I might be doing better than you, actually, if your company’s bad enough that you’re entertaining yourself in the kitchen all day.” 

You crack a smile at that, and James’ heart lightens. “Yeah, Singh’s no you. He doesn’t seem to like to chat.” 

“Ahh, so that’s why you’ve really come out here, yeah? You just missed me.” 

“You’ve caught me.” 

It’s said like a joke, but James’ pride inflates foolishly nonetheless. “I hate that I can’t be there,” he says. “Especially now that I know they’ve put Singh on my shift.” 

“He’s not so bad,” you laugh, heading towards the table. You fold up the bags. “Anyway, it’s more important that you’re here. And I’ll be back in a couple days to restock you.” 

James fixes you with a look as you start for the door. “You really don’t have to.” 

“I’m going to,” you say breezily. “Don’t forget to put the flowers in water, and the muffins are strawberry chocolate chip.” He grins. His mum’s favorite. “I’ll tell Singh you were raving about him.” 

“Oh, please do.” He rolls his eyes, feeling lighter than he has in days. “Thanks, angel.” 

You shoot him a smile worthy of the moniker as you go out the door. “See you in a couple days, Jamie.”

[yokumirumerafan]

Can you do one where Y/N asks the kny characters if they want a kiss and then gives them a chocolate kiss and after they’ve taken it Y/N gives them a real kiss on the lips

AHHHH this one is so cute and playful!! 🥹🍫💋 I love the wholesome sneak attack energy here. You’re just out here being an adorable menace to the KNY crew’s hearts. Here’s how the characters would react to:

"Do you want a kiss?" (🍫 → 💋)

🔥 Kyojuro Rengoku

He lights up like a sunrise.

“A KISS?! I WOULD BE HONORED!!”

Takes the chocolate with two hands and bows. The moment he looks up, BOOM—lip kiss. His eyes go wide for a second before melting into a smile so bright it could blind you.

“A surprise double kiss?! How DELIGHTFUL!!”

🌊 Giyuu Tomioka

Looks extremely confused.

“...A kiss?” You hand him the chocolate. He stares at it. Blushes. “Oh… I see.”

Then you lean in and peck his lips and he completely short-circuits. Just standing there blinking like:

“Wait... that wasn’t part of the deal.”

But you see the faintest ghost of a smile on his face, and his ears stay red the rest of the day.

🦋 Shinobu Kocho

Smiles sweetly but suspiciously.

“How forward of you~ But… sure.”

She takes the chocolate kiss, already catching onto your game. When you lean in to kiss her for real, she lets it happen—but then she pecks your lips back with a teasing smile.

“That’s for thinking you could outflirt me.”

💥 Zenitsu Agatsuma

Has an out-of-body experience.

“A KISS?? M-ME???” Grabs the chocolate so fast it’s a blur. Then you kiss his lips and he just faints. Full-on drama queen collapse.

You walk away while he’s sparkly-eyed and twitching in the grass like:

“I HAVE SEEN THE DIVINE…”

🐗 Inosuke Hashibira

Has no idea what you mean.

“A KISS?? Is that a kind of weapon?!”

You hand him the chocolate. He bites it in half (wrapper and all) with suspicion. Then you smooch him and he freezes.

“YOU—!! YOU ATTACKED ME WITH YOUR FACE!!!”

He sprints off yelling “I’M GONNA WIN NEXT TIME!!” but secretly hopes you'll “attack” him again.

🩷 Mitsuri Kanroji

GASP. Soft gasp. Blushing gasp.

“A kiss?! Oh my goodness—yes!!”

She happily takes the chocolate and clutches it to her chest like it's sacred. When you lean in for the real kiss, she goes all sparkly-eyed and squeals after:

“YOU’RE SO SWEET I COULD DIEEEE!! Let me give you one too!! 💞💞💞”

🐍 Obanai Iguro

Gets so flustered and tries to act cool.

“Tch… fine.”

Takes the chocolate with a grumble, refusing to make eye contact. But when you kiss him on the lips right after, he stares at you like you just blew up his brain.

Kaburamaru slithers in a little heart shape across his shoulders.

“...You’re cruel.”

(He means “please do it again.”)

🌪️ Sanemi Shinazugawa

Glares suspiciously.

“Why are you being weird. What do you want.”

You hand him the chocolate kiss, and he takes it like it’s a trap. Then you kiss him and he’s just…

“WHAT—?! You can’t just—!!”

He sputters and yells but never throws the chocolate away. He’s lowkey flustered for hours and punches a wall to cope.

🌫️ Muichiro Tokito

Looks confused.

“I don’t get it.”

You give him the chocolate and he just blinks. Then you give him a quick kiss and he stands there silent for a moment before softly muttering:

“...That was nice.”

A few minutes later, he asks if he can have another kiss. You think he means chocolate, but he’s clearly waiting for you to kiss him again. 🥺

[minnielvrr]

Hellooooo, I have an idea with Seungmin and Jeongin. Seungmin has always bothered Jeongin with tickling, Jeongin decides to get revenge tickling him

Hii 🐾 Thank you for the request 🫶🩷 Hope you like this 🤗

Punishment

Lee: Seungmin Ler: Jeongin, Chan, Minho Word count: 1.3k

(A/N: Sorry guys I didn't have time to proofread this so I might edit it later, exams are kicking my ass😭😭)

Jeongin was officially DONE. They had just finished the last concert of their Maniac world tour and everyone had been too tired to pack up and go home immediately, so they’d just found their own spots to chill for a while. I.N had been peacefully sitting on the couch of their waiting room, along with Felix and Hyunjin who were filming tiktoks in the corner. And Seungmin, bored out of his mind after he’d diligently showered and changed, had locked in on his target for the evening.

He sat down so close to Innie, he was practically on the younger boys’ lap, poking his cheek and pretending to bite him. For a good while, Innie patiently ignored his antics, much to Seungmin’s frustration. The puppy whined at Innie to pay attention to him, grabbing his phone and hiding it behind his back when I.N didn’t so much as spare him a look.

“Hyung give me my phone back right now or you’re so gonna regret it,” he snapped, turning to face a gleeful puppy, who was just happy to finally have the maknae’s attention.

“If you want it, come and get it maknae-ah.” Seungmin did not anticipate being tackled and pinned, the arm he’d hidden behind him now also pinned over his head with one of Jeongin’s hands, “H-hey Innie, I’m sorry I-I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

Jeongin could only smirk at the frightened look on his hyung’s face as he sat on his thighs. Oh, he was gonna have so much fun. He didn’t bother to answer as he slipped his hand under Seungmin’s hoodie and firmly kneaded his side.

The phone slipped out of Minnie’s hand as he shrieked and writhed. Sweet, helpless giggles slipping out of his parted lips as Innie watched him.

“You wanted my attention right, hyungie? Now you have it. So how does it feel, hm? Do you like it?” Jeongin taunted, digging into Seungmin’s bare ribs and loving how the older just fell apart under his fingers.

“Nohoho I’m sohohohory, Innie plehehehease,” the puppy begged, nose scrunched up with how much he was laughing, feet kicking out behind Innie.

Not satisfied with how quiet Seungmin still was, Jeongin called out to his oldest hyungs. He knew how loud his puppy hyung could get when he was wrecked right. Chan and Minho came rushing, worried that something was wrong, only to relax when they heard Seungmin’s laughter.

“What’s going on here? Innie why did you call us?” “Hyung please help me get revenge. Seungmin hyung has been annoying me all day today.” Innie pleaded his case, praying that the two wouldn’t just decide to wreck him instead.

Grinning at the opportunity to discipline their darling menace, the two agreed to help. Seungmin was long overdue for some well-deserved punishment tickles.

Chan sat down on the puppy’s arms, effectively stretching him out. Minho head locked his feet, pleased when just that simple action had the puppy imploring him, ”Hyung, please anywhere but there, you know I can’t take it. Please.”

“He’s lying hyung, he loves when we tickle him there,” Innie exposed, Seungmin’s face burning in embarrassment and his efforts to escape renewing despite knowing he had no chance of escaping this.

“Is that true, Seungminie? Do you like when we tickle you? Is this what you wanted?” Chan's stupid baby talk was just too damn flustering. Seungmin was sure he was gonna have a stroke with how much blood was rushing to his face.

When the actual tickling started again, Seungmin wasn’t given any warning. Fingers digging into every sensitive spot on his body had the boy flailing, barking out a laugh as he lost all strength in his body.

“How cute. Is a few tickles all it takes to have you boneless, little puppy?” Minho teased, dragging his nails slowly up and down the boy’s socked soles.

“Seungmin hyung always becomes weak when he's tickled,” Innie tattled to his oldest hyungs, happy to finally have an interested audience to learn every way to wreck the cool, collected Kim Seungmin.

“Nohoho it tihihickles sohohoho muCH~” Chan laughed at that, “Well, I’d expect it to tickle, we are tickling you after all.” Fingers traced their way down from his elbows, slowly inching their way towards his underarms.

Seungmin’s giggles growing louder the closer Chan got to his underarms, squealing when the kangaroo dived right in, pressing and vibrating his thumbs right at the center.

The boy twisted, his whole body shaking with his laughs, a bright smile painting his soft features. “No, I’m sohohohoryhyhy, Innie. Plehehehease,” Seungmin begged as he tugged weakly at his arms. “Just Jeongin? You’re not sorry about annoying the rest of us?” Minho asked, scribbling under Minnie’s toes while Jeongin spidered his tummy.

Seungmin was a wreck. The mix of soft and rough tickles feeling almost unbearable as he laughed aloud, temporarily forgetting his words. Felix and Hyunjin who had been watching the spectacle since the start walked over, laughing at how cute their dandy boy looked, Hyunjin recording a video of the boy laughing his head off as the others ‘punished’ him.

“He looks like he’s having fun,” Lix observed, sneaking a few fingers to wiggle at Minnie’s neck. They let up to give the panting pup a breather, Seungmin immediately trying to break free. “Why are you trying to run away baby, you know you love this,” Channie teased in his baby voice, endlessly amused at how easy it was to have their sweet puppy blushing. “Ugh, I hate you all,” he lied, closing his eyes and turning his face away.

“Take that back,” Minho’s serious tone bewildered Seungmin and the moment he opened his mouth to explain that he was just joking, the kitten, who had taken off the puppy’s socks, scraped his nails up and down the arches of Minnie’s feet. The words died on the puppy’s tongue, quickly replaced by hysterical laughter when Jeongin, that traitor, chimed in, “Minho hyung try the inner sides of his feet, it's a really bad spot.”

Lino didn't need to be told twice, running an experimental finger over the pale skin and reveling in the scream he earned. “nononono FUCK! Hyuhuhuhung please pleahehease no I'll doho anythihing, ahahahahAHA.” The poor puppy writhed in their hold, pleasing for his life, but this was punishment after all. They couldn't let him off easy.

Meanwhile, Jeongin showed Chan a spot on either side of Minnie's ribs, right next to his chest. And while Chan attacked that spot, Jeongin decided to go in for the kill, wiggling his index finger in the poor boy's belly button while his free hand scribbled up and down his side. The puppy gasped out a loud peal of maniacal laughs before descending into silent laughter.

Tears streamed freely down his face and his body flopped down on the soft cushion, completely spent. His mouth was stretched in a beautiful wide smile that showed off his braces in all their glory. He was so overcome by the tickles that his brain couldn't even mouth any pleas.

The three slowed to a stop, Chan running to grab another bottle of water while Minho gently wiped the tears and sweat off the panting boy's face with a towel. Jeongin held him in a back hug that Seungmin melted into, snuggling his face in Innie's neck and falling asleep just moments after Chan fed him the water.

When the puppy came to, he was laying with his head in Chan's lap, a hand stroking his hair and softly scratching hia scalp. The leader smiled when he noticed the puppy had woken up, “Are you okay baby? Innie went to take a shower, he said he didn't wanna make you sweaty again.” Chan giggled when Seungmin mouthed back with a tired, “already did,” before being lulled back to sleep by the calming sensation of Channie's hand.

[rainhidesmytears]

Valdemar x Wife! Reader

(This is honestly a cute little idea I had purely based upon my own fascination with this unique and lovingly violent character. We aren't here for perfection folks! The genre is called fantasy for a reason!! Please enjoy my sappy nonsense 🩷)

It was a fun little idea that I find amusing - this traveling doctor getting off from the ferry as it docks in Vesuvia, happens to be a penpal of Julian's that he's finally been able to convince to return home to visit everyone. Visiting the Palace to greet him because Nadia invited their friends to tea and he got permission to have a visitor join them.

It may be a little odd, but I don’t write much so it's okay, have fun!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ilya, is that you? You're much taller than I remember! It's good to see you! Nice eyepatch. It adds to the whole pirate look you've got going on." The woman greets the redhead warmly, embracing in a quick one armed hug as she still carried her bag on the opposite shoulder. "How've you been? Last I'd heard, you were off fighting magical beings and breaking chains and such. Bunch of sparkling, glittery nonsense, if you ask me." It gets Julian to laugh, as he was never very fond of magic to begin with, always preferring the cold hard facts of scientific research.

"You're telling me! I was thrown into a giant magical floating ocean with enormous flying sea creatures! They were very friendly, of course, and the view was incredible, but I didn't exactly appreciate being on a false ground that moved out from under my feet." As Julian had awaited her arrival on the ferry, the two had begun catching up as they made their way towards the Palace, having been granted permission to attend a sort of tea party with the Countess as everyone's relationships had since been mended after the defeat of the Devil. "You'll love the cakes, Portia bakes them herself. Oh! Did I tell you she and Nadia finally went on a date? You've much to catch up on, it's been ages since you've been home."

With the eager aggreance of his friend, the pair had finally made it inside and headed towards the salon where the others waited. Apparently the Countess had a last minute meeting that had to be dealt with, if the courtiers all filing out of the room after her were any indication. Though, before proper introductions could be held, the woman had suddenly dropped her bag and broke into a dead sprint towards the now somewhat reformed Quaestor. The five attendees of said tea party had no chance to warn her of the horned doctor's dislike of- well- anyone, before the entire hall was caught in a shocked silence at the scene before them.

Valdemar had originally intended to leave the meeting and return to the dungeons for more experiments, only to greet Julian's new friend with open arms when she had thrown herself into his waiting embrace. This mysterious friend of Julian's even has the audacity (or what any of the medical attendings would call the lack of a will to live) to press a chaste kiss to the side of the Quaestor's mask before being set back down. While the wide eyed stares on the pair of them seem to go unnoticed by the woman, Valdemar is very much amused by the current situation. Nadia doesn't have a chance to say anything before she's struck speechless by an amused and less than menacing chuckle from the Quaestor. No one has ever heard him show any sort of emotion that wasn't within malicious intent.

"You ruin the cleanliness of my masks at every turn. What am I going to do with you?" It's more of a tease than a true question, note even going as far as brushing himself off as he had done so with anyone else who came within close proximity. No one has the heart to move or say anything lest it end this confusion in bloodshed.

"I mean, you could always strap me to that vivisection table of yours, but then I think we'd both have a little too much fun and not in the way of science~" She had immediately began teasing the feared horned doctor, causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle, showing off more of the amusement he felt. The Quaestor certainly a master of composure, as anyone else would have laughed at such a frivolous remark. It was clear that this seemed to be a very happy reunion, but no one could figure out why.

"I take it you two know each other?" Julian's question sparks laughter from the woman and a quick amused glance away from the Quaestor. The current situation was hilarious in the eyes of the two, but he holds his reputation rather high, so they only laughter he usually allows is when it terrifies those around him. Had it not been for his friend jumping up and kissing his previous employer, he'd have been far braver in sense of curiosities needing to be quelled.

"Well, if I didn't know who he was, I doubt I'd have married him. Especially with that horrible habit of leaving unfinished experiments all over the dining room table~" She only teases her husband more, even in front of Julian and the Countess who was his underling and is his current employer respectively. Though instead of the fury or wrath they're expecting, all they see is his exasperated sigh and a light swatting at this cackling woman even while she pats his hands away. Their current view of the pair is almost like that of an old married couple they'd meet in the market.

"That is a stretch of the truth, as we are both well aware. You distract me frequently. How can I ever finish my work?" His tone is gentle and scolding, but it holds no real heat behind it. But his wife only laughs, beaming brightly up at the Quaestor as she still very clearly has to tilt her head back for them to see eye to eye. Had none of them been previously afraid of Valdemar, they'd see his gentle hand on the back of her head to prevent pain as endearing, and somewhat thoughtful.

"Every good doctor needs rest. Whether it's sleeping or reading a book by the fire with their ever distracting wife. You work too hard, Dear. I want you to be as healthy as you keep me. Demon capabilities or not, I am a woman and your wife. No matter how hard you try, you'll never win this argument." Her immediate reply to his light complaint is that of care and amusement, refusing to allow her beloved doctor to work himself to death regardless of the power he once held.

"You'd never allow me, regardless." Valdemar's brow raises at her quick agreance, only encouraging her further with another quiet chuckle before they've leaned down and moved their mask to leave a light kiss to the crown of her head. Once his posture had straightened, the Quaestor readjusted the mask and bid fairwell to the audience they had ended up with, as he left the party and headed back to the dungeons to work on an experiment.

No one had ever seen even the vague hints of his personal life, not even the other courtiers whom had known him for centuries had ever heard even a whisper from his lips of anything of himself that wasn't a carnal urge for blood or death. They all have so many questions once the party finally makes it into the salon, funnily enough by the woman's lead. Her laughter as the courtiers had quickly joined them, was only amplified by their rapid fire questions mixed together with Julian's and the others.

Nadia: "The Quaestor has a wife?"

Asra: "Wait- he's married? Like actually married?"

Portia: "You're not a zombie experiment that swears loyalty to him?"

Valerius: "How the fuck- please excuse my language, your Grace- but how the fuck did he get married?"

Julian: "The letters she writes are slanted and not nearly as neat as Valdemar’s and he's one dangerous stickler for neatness and cleanliness."

Vlastomis: "How the did you get him to exchange letters?"

Vulgora: "Did he best you in a fight? No? NO? WHAT DO YOU MEAN NO?"

Her laughter turns to wheezes under their investigation, especially when the Pontifex had brought mention of a lost duel into the conversation. "Stars, no! Nothing like that at all! We've been married for the last 15 years. No fights, or deals, or magical spells or experiments gone wrong, I can assure you." They finally calm themselves enough for her laughter to die down, and when she has the chance to give a little bit of the history between them, it only shocks them again.

"He'd happened to need stitches while I was traveling the continent, and we just sort of hit it off. He likes to say he'd had an entire courtship planned out, but he's just full of hot air. I had that man red in the face and wide eyed every time I flirted with him. Especially when he was covered in blood after an amputation. But that's a story for another time." The collective whines of wanting to hear more of the sappy details came mainly from the Devorak twins and Volta, but the others seemed relieved they wouldn't have to head the more mushy side of the Quaestor. It only seemed to make him that much more intimidating.

"He prides himself on his work, so I can't blame him for never mentioning me. Honestly, I feel like people would worry too much about the thought of him having a wife instead of the effort he puts into his work, so I've never had the idea to go broadcasting his name or occupation. But I'm so glad to see that he's right here in Vesuvia! Just means I can move into that house I bought to be closer to him instead of traveling by sea every month. Now! Julian mentioned some cakes, do we still have a chance for those?"

[freelancearsonist]

"are you wearing my shirt?" + Llewyn?

(so happy you're back hehe)

omg i love this one 🥺 thank you so much for sending this in and thank you for your kind words, it’s so good to be back 🩷

warnings: just fluff, one mention of period typical sexism (not llewyn), reader wears a nightgown, reader is a total introvert no i’m not projecting

Llewyn has a habit of showing up on your doorstep when you least expect it, maybe because he knows you’re too nice to turn him away. He never outstays his welcome—he has a keen eye for when you’re starting to feel a little suffocated and need your privacy back. After all, your shoebox of an apartment was definitely not made for more than one person—and that’s exactly why you chose it in the first place. As much as you love having friends and family around you, you very much value your solitude and need breaks from people on a regular basis.

So it’s strange that Llewyn’s been here for six nights in a row when his previous longest stay was three. And it’s even stranger that you’re not craving alone time the way you normally would be at this point. You like being around him, like having his gorgeous face to come home to every night. Especially with the long shifts you’ve been having to pull ever since your landlord raised the rent. He’s definitely a good listener, and he doesn’t mind you rambling about a horrid customer you had to deal with or the way your boss has been making inappropriate comments to all the women on staff.

The only bad thing is, these long shifts are leaving you with less and less time to get chores done. He hasn’t mentioned it, but Llewyn has been trying his best to help out around the house—washing the breakfast dishes after you realize you’re running late for work, restocking the fridge with your favorite wine when the bottle gets low, and generally trying to tidy up after himself. You’ve noticed the effort, and it makes your heart warm. He’s never tried so hard before, but it’s almost like he’s trying to impress you. Like he wants to take care of you.

You try not to get your hopes up, because Llewyn has been an infrequent house guest for the better part of three years and he’s never once shown any sign of romantic interest in you. Still, you can’t help the little crush you’ve been harboring. It’s hard not to fall for those sweet brown puppy eyes of his.

He’s a goddamn menace, and you love it.

You don’t realize you’re out of clean clothes until it’s too late. Thankfully your closet dries up on a Saturday that you don’t have to work, so you finally have time to do the laundry and catch up on a few other chores that need doing.

You’re about to say fuck it and rewear some dirty clothes, but there’s a few problems with that. One, working shifts in a diner is sweaty work and none of your clothes smell particularly appealing. Two, the man you would fall on your knees for is currently asleep on your couch and you don’t want to look anything but your absolute best around him—and that means skimpy shorts and loose-neck shirts, because what’s the harm in giving him something nice to look at?

You pad down the hallway in your nightgown, a threadbare garment that you would really rather not have him see you in, but there aren’t many other options. At least it doesn’t smell like you just dug your way out of a grave.

As you’re doing your best to load up the washer without making too much noise, you realize there’s a load of clean clothes in the dryer. Hardly able to believe your luck, you start digging through the load for something presentable to wear. But these fabrics are all unfamiliar, and your heart quickly sinks. These are Llewyn’s clothes, not yours.

So, you can stay in this ratty nightgown and pray that you somehow get a load of laundry through the washer and dryer before he wakes up. Not likely, considering the fact that it’s rare for you to wake up before him anyway and it’ll probably be a matter of minutes before he’s up.

Or, you can borrow some of his nice clean clothes, thank him profusely, and re-wash them for him once your load is done.

The choice seems obvious.

You find the perfect shirt right on top—a long button down that lands about mid-thigh at the longest part of the hem and covers just enough to not be a complete scandal. With your hair mussed up and the top two buttons undone, you look downright sexy.

You’re just starting the machine when Llewyn pads down the narrow hallway, stopping short at the door to the bathroom when his sleep-clouded eyes land on you.

You’ve never seen anyone’s pupils expand so rapidly, and it makes your heart skip a beat.

“Is that… are you wearing my shirt?”

You try to play coy, but you’re suddenly very aware of the fact that this is the pinnacle. There’s no getting out of this one, no way to keep pretending your feelings towards him are merely friendly. It’s terrifying and relieving all at once.

“Yeah, I umm… I didn’t have anything clean left. I’ll wash it for you when I’m done.”

He takes a step closer, and you can’t help but notice the way his chest heaves under that tight white tee of his.

“It looks good on you. Too good.” He takes another step closer, close enough now that you can feel the soft warm of his breath on your face.

“Too good?” You ask, praying he doesn’t notice the way your voice trembles just a little bit.

“Yeah. You’re gonna have to take it off.”

That’s when you feel his hand, slowly making its way up your arm to toy at the fabric where the collar opens around your neck.

With a sudden surge of confidence, you say, “Make me.”

And that’s all it takes for his lips to crash against yours, mere moments before he makes good on your challenge.

[annierosaart]

How about Ms. Gladiia and Miss Susie Glitter.

Gladiia:

My NOTP for them -

Y'know, while it's easy to imagine hypothetical ships that would irk me, I don't think I've seen anyone actually ship them?? I dunno. Gladiia and not being in my operator list ig

My BROTP for them -

The thing she ends up having with Doc where she's just flat out like "just leave. go. I can do this faster than you." is fucking hilarious so those two, yes.

My OTP for them -

Gladiia/Kal, duh

My second choice pairing for them -

Pick any of the Hunters and yeah.

Is it cheating to put Gladiia/Doc here too? Because the dance line fucked me up

My fluffy pairing for them -

Gladiia/Laurentina, probably!

My angsty pairing for them -

see all of the above mentioned thus far

My favorite poly ship for them -

is

is this even a question

Abyssal Hunters, c'mon

My weirdest pairing for them -

the concept floated around of Susie and the AHs is fucking hilarious yes please

Speaking of her!

Goldenglow, Aka Susie Glitter oh my god that's her actual name-:

My NOTP for them -

Romantic Redblade/Susie! Just doesn't do it for me, soz. I can still appreciate art of them though so, I guess not really a NOTP?

My BROTP for them -

Redblade/Susie, platonic! I loved his bit with stopping the bigot, that was super fun.

My OTP for them -

Susie/Quercus! Vanilla, I know, I know.

My second choice pairing for them -

Susie/Haze! Good cat that looks like a dog and an absolute menace to society, together

My fluffy pairing for them -

Susie/Quercus again, I'm predictable, my bad

My angsty pairing for them -

Susie/Haze, because both have so much that is deeply wrong with them. So so wrong.

My favorite poly ship for them -

Y'know, haven't thought about that... I got nothing chief

My weirdest pairing for them -

Susie/Pozy! Pink 🩷

thanks for asking!

[aias-fxtns]

AHH! Finally I got a chance to read this! I've been busy this past few weeks and thank the gods I have free time today😭. This is so good, I need more but I know open ending is quite the deal to avoid angsty ending🙌🩷.

THERE WAS A prickling sensation on the back of your neck, as if someone was watching you. It had been a constant sensation since a couple of days ago, one that you couldn’t shake even when alone in your quarters.

I FEEL LIKE SOMEBODY'S WATCHING ME!!~

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing?” The presence asked, sounding slightly amused. You turned, eager to meet your stalker. He was a fairly muscled man, though not overly so, with the built of a warrior. His hair was the silver color you had come to associate with Targaryens, a trait much rarer here than in your natal kingdom. There was a sword on his belt.

They finally met, I bet the obsession become worse after this interaction. I would love to deep dive into their minds as the obsession progress. I just want to see how insane this two could be, like how can they be a menace to society, LMAO.

“He represents one of my enemies.” 

ATE🙌

The man’s expression turned colder. He grabbed a lock of your hair, idly twirling it between his fingers in what was a clear attempt at intimidating you. 

Obsessed much?

“Oh, but you do.” You smirked. “Or can you do this?” You reached into the flames, recovering the metal rod you had used to kill the leech. Your hand didn’t blister. Fire was not dangerous to you, your control over it too great. You offered it to him, still flaming hot.

Ladies and gentlemen, HER.

Suddenly, he tugged you towards him. Curious about his intentions, you allowed it. It had been a long time since you had been touched with such yearning. It felt as if he wanted to know you by touch and taste alone, unravel all your secrets. And you wanted to let him. 

Just say this man,

Instead, Daemon reached for your hand, his expression one of complete wonder. He ran his fingers over your knuckles, as if checking for himself that you were not tricking him. Your skin remained smooth and pleasantly warm under his exploring hand. 

AMEN!!!!

Slowly, meeting your eyes, purple against your warm brown, he leant in and kissed you. His mouth caught yours, an instant of absolute violence and sweetness. There was no softness in it. Daemon kissed to conquer, to own. And it was why you had to break it, with the certainty that if you allowed it to go any further, desire would consume you both. 

AHHHHHHHH!!! I FORGOT HOW TO BREATHE FOR A MINUTE THERE....

“Men never do.” 

WHO IS THIS DIVA??

“I cannot risk it. The fates of our entire world, for a moment of fleeting pleasure?” You untangle yourself from him. “I am sorry, Daemon. I cannot risk it.” 

NO! MISS MÆM, NO! STOP, NO!!!! SOMEONE HOLD HER! ANYONE!?

If someone had asked him before if he thought there was a place where he belonged, he would have said Valyria. If someone asked him now… Daemon only wanted to be yours. And he hated the fact that he could not be. 

AMEN TO THAT SISTAH!!!

“Renounce your vows. Or don’t. I’ll convert. Believe in your vision, or don’t. I fear you might have changed it already, with how much I wish to be yours and only yours.” The words just keep coming, and you look horrified at the blasphemy he is spouting. Daemon knows he cannot convince you of anything if you get too incensed and burn him to a crisp.  He raises his palms placatingly. “If your god deals in absolutes, it might have come to pass, and we might have only a short while together. If he doesn’t, perhaps a child of ours will marry a child of hers."

If someone said this to me I'll be carrying them to the church/court just to get married d-day. Seriously though, where do I find this kind of men??? I would like to purchase one.

“Then teach this poor sinner how to be properly devoted.” Daemon pulls you to him, and hugs you tightly. He has never in his life begged for anything, but for you, he is willing to try. “Let me be yours. Keep the vows, or don’t. Do as you please. I’ll be your husband, your lover, your whore. Anything. As long as I am yours.” 

AHHHHH, I WANT HIM! SOMEONE GIVE ME A THE LINK OF WHERE I COULD BUY THIS MAN. I WANT MY MAN OBSESSED☝️ I WANT TO BE HIS RELIGION.

Good bye to you our diva (red priestess! reader) you'll be missed:(

HER:

Valar Dohaeris (Daemon Targaryen x Reader) 

Warnings: Mature language. Sexual thoughts. Witch reader doing spooky, witch things.

A/N: And it’s wrapped up! Huge thanks to @just-some-random-blogger and @aias-fxtns for sticking with me and cheering me on to finish this. For anyone new, you can read the first part here!

THERE WAS A prickling sensation on the back of your neck, as if someone was watching you. It had been a constant sensation since a couple of days ago, one that you couldn’t shake even when alone in your quarters. 

You had looked into the flames to know who it was, but the Lord of Light kept the mystery concealed from you. The only comfort you had was that the person couldn’t have ill intent. When such things had happened to you in the past, you were always warned of the imminent danger. Hence, if there was no warning, there was no danger. 

You continued with your days as normal. As a worshiper of the Red God, you had never slept much, forced to keep vigil over the precious light you were afforded when the night fell. The stalking didn’t mean any changes in your routine, beyond mild annoyance at your lack of privacy.

Despite being powerful enough to feel the presence chasing you around, and strong enough to vanish it too with a few well-placed flames or complaints to the King, you found yourself hesitating. What if the person was tailing you because they were curious about your god? With your abysmal failure at converting anyone yet, you felt like you couldn’t turn them away.

Much to your dismay, the moon in King Viserys’ court had taught you one thing about yourself: You were terrible at preaching and convincing people. While your display of magic interested the King and his heir, their curiosity seemed purely centered in how it related to their Valyrian practices. Any muttered enchantment in High Valyrian was to them an example their gods were lending you power, and not R'hllor. No matter how many times you told them you used it because you were essoii, they refused to believe it. 

Pondering over your troubles as you partook in some recreational cursing, involving a live leech that you had fed Hightower blood, you were so focused, you didn't hear the door to your workroom open. Nor did you felt anything abnormal, recognizing the presence that followed you everywhere. You simply continued building your small pyre, feeling like these things required a more personal touch than just magicking it into existence. 

Besides, King Viserys had been explicit. You were not allowed bonfires inside, no matter how small you made them. 

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing?” The presence asked, sounding slightly amused. You turned, eager to meet your stalker. He was a fairly muscled man, though not overly so, with the built of a warrior. His hair was the silver color you had come to associate with Targaryens, a trait much rarer here than in your natal kingdom. There was a sword on his belt. 

His face, twisted into a mischievous smile, seemed oddly familiar. You had seen him before, but you did not know where. 

“Praying.” You answered, simply. The leech caught in your grasp squirmed, and you studied it with a detached expression. Should you skewer it and cause the man terrible stomach pains? Or boil it to give him a fever? You weren’t intending to kill, only to severely maim, so throwing it into the pyre was out of the question. 

“By holding a leech?” The man pressed closer, invading your personal space. You gave him a slow, bloodthirsty smile. Less he became too familiar. 

“He represents one of my enemies.” 

The man’s expression turned colder. He grabbed a lock of your hair, idly twirling it between his fingers in what was a clear attempt at intimidating you. 

“And what enemies does a pretty thing like you have? Shouldn’t you be whispering into the King’s ears? Warming his bed?”  

Ah, you thought, finally realizing who might this be and why he had been stalking you. Daemon Targaryen. Viserys’ fiercest protector. The Rogue Prince himself, of whom you had heard so much about. 

“I do not bed your brother, no.” You carefully placed a metal stake in the pyre, settling for skewering the leech. “And to answer your question, there are some ardent believers in the false idols in high positions here. I am simply ridding the realm of them.” 

“I do not bed your brother, my prince.” He corrected, his smile getting more vicious. You knew he understood exactly whom you were referring to. Despite your shared dislike for Otto Hightower, you did not like his tone. 

“Fire burns us all.” You impaled the leech, watching it squirm in the flames. “Even princes.” 

“Dragons do not burn.” Daemon said, with a stubborn tilt of his mouth. 

“Oh, but you do.” You smirked. “Or can you do this?” You reached into the flames, recovering the metal rod you had used to kill the leech. Your hand didn’t blister. Fire was not dangerous to you, your control over it too great. You offered it to him, still flaming hot. 

He didn’t take it. He knew that regardless of what House Targaryen claimed, none of them were truly fireproof. Not like you were. Not like she would be. 

Instead, Daemon reached for your hand, his expression one of complete wonder. He ran his fingers over your knuckles, as if checking for himself that you were not tricking him. Your skin remained smooth and pleasantly warm under his exploring hand. 

He stepped closer. His pupils were blown, mouth parted in half surprise, half desire. His thumb brushed over the inside of your wrist, and towards the inner side of your arm. His nails, short and well taken care of, scratched pleasantly against your forearm.

Suddenly, he tugged you towards him. Curious about his intentions, you allowed it. It had been a long time since you had been touched with such yearning. It felt as if he wanted to know you by touch and taste alone, unravel all your secrets. And you wanted to let him. 

“Enchantress.” He muttered, under his breath. “Sorceress.” 

“Priestess.” You corrected, looking at him from below your eyelashes.  

Slowly, meeting your eyes, purple against your warm brown, he leant in and kissed you. His mouth caught yours, an instant of absolute violence and sweetness. There was no softness in it. Daemon kissed to conquer, to own. And it was why you had to break it, with the certainty that if you allowed it to go any further, desire would consume you both. 

Red Priestesses weren’t sworn to celibacy. But you couldn’t be with this man, used to possessing, to owning. You had a destiny already, and it wasn’t paramour or wife. And he had his, too. You finally remembered where you had seen him. In your dreams, his blood mixed with the one in your silver Queen. 

“Did you need something?” You asked, tone very casual. He frowned, looking perplexed. You would be, too, if you were him. After such a delicious kiss, rejection would confuse you too. 

“Walk with me.” He pressed, grabbing your elbow. “I can show you the most pleasant areas in the Red Keep.” 

“Of that, I am sure. But I have no time for pleasure.” And you grabbed another leech, turning your back to him. This time, you threw it into the fire without intention, just because you could. 

“I WOULD LIKE to go for a walk with you, priestess.” Daemon says, for what feels like the twelfth time this week alone. As always, you barely lift your eyes from the red tome you are reading. Preparing to entertain Rhaenyra, no doubt. His niece has begun to monopolize far too much of your time for Daemon’s liking. 

Not that Daemon blames her. You are exquisite, and Rhaneyra has always had excellent taste.

“Hm.” You reply, making some notes on a spare parchment. Your penmanship is common, letters more similar to those merchants’ use than the beautiful handwriting most ladies have. Yet, even though it highlights your less than noble origins, Daemon finds it much better than what westerosi women manage to produce. For your writings have a redeemable trait: You write exclusively in High Valyrian. 

“Perhaps, if not a walk, you would like to sup with me?” Daemon tempts you. You have been sitting here for what feels like hours. Perhaps the prospect of food might be more amiable to you. 

“I can't.” You chew on your quill, expression torn. Daemon wonders if you still think he suspects you of being a cunning little witch. Which you are, but he has left behind his worry because you are wholly unprepared to seduce Viserys or Rhaenyra into your way of thinking. 

Whatever they taught you in those Red Temples didn’t prepare you for House Targaryen. Not even close. Viserys listened to your advice before discarding it because, well, he just wasn’t interested in ruling beyond keeping the peace. Your suggestions were too bold to follow them without angering the Faith. 

And Rhaenyra, Rhaenyra had always been capricious. You didn’t realize it, but she was using you to get back at the Hightower whore for attempting to seduce her father. She wasn’t truly interested in your theories about magic and gods. 

“I am not attempting to trick you.” He gently places his hand on your arm, trying to get your attention away from that blasted book. Your skin is soft and smooth to the touch, and Daemon cannot help but wonder how good it will feel against his. 

There has never been a woman who said no to him. That you do so, even when you had trembled with desire when he kissed you, intrigues him. And that you deny him each time you are faced with temptation only makes him want to have you further. 

“I know.” You smile, in that eerie way that tells Daemon that you know because you have seen it, and not just because you trust him. “I still cannot betray my vows.” 

“Red Priestesses make no vow of celibacy.” Daemon says, puzzled. 

“That isn’t the vow I speak of.” And when Daemon asks for clarifications, you simply laugh and claim to be too busy to enlighten him. No matter how much Daemon tries to understand, he doesn’t. 

Hence, the need to come to ask you. This time, he is smarter about it. He comes bearing a gift. A costly one, in which Daemon had splurged. The damn thing is uncannily smart, studying him with huge purple eyes. A fitting gift for an eerie woman. 

“Daemon?” As always, your inquiring tone is more of a courtesy than a real doubt. You probably saw his visit on the torches or something. Was it even worth it preparing a surprise, or would you already know? His question is soon answered when you set down the grinding stone you are using to prepare some sort of red concoction, and mutter. “I am not even from that part of Essos.”

“At least it is cute?” Daemon presents the cage with the little valyrian. The creature gives him a side eyed look, as if judging him. 

“She is adorable.” You agree, opening up the cage without a care in the world. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Daemon had nearly lost a finger to the vicious maws of the damn thing. Turns out, he has little reason to worry. The damn creature climbs on your shoulder and settles there as if she belongs, chittering to herself. “How did you..?”

“She, too, doesn’t belong in a cage. She cannot be owned.” You explain, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. Somehow, Daemon feels like you are not simply talking about the little valyrian. 

“I don’t understand.” He says, swallowing his pride. You turn to look at him, and smile. 

“Men never do.” 

“I ONLY WEAR red.” You say, setting down the parcel in front of Daemon. He is sharpening his sword in the courtyard, the metal shining brightly on the sunlight, making you think of him once again. Azor Ahai and his flaming sword. 

The silks are the most expensive garbs you have ever owned. They had felt so smooth against your skin, cold and soft. But they didn’t belong in the wardrobe of a red priestess. They belonged in some stuffy lady’s trousseau. Perhaps, in a princess’.

You had seen a similar thing in your flames, after all. A thousand beautiful trinkets laid at the feet of your silver princess.

“I do not understand you.” Daemon sets down his sword, but doesn’t take the parcel back. He ignores your extended hands. “Your body yearns for mine, like fire yearns for logs, like men yearn for sustenance.” 

You snort. 

“A bit presumptuous, aren’t we?”

Daemon springs up to his feet, stepping into your personal space. The parcel, containing the beautiful silks, falls forgotten to the ground. 

“I only speak as I see it.” He cups your face in his hands, softly. The tenderness in his grip makes you close your eyes. “The kiss we shared… You felt it too. There is an inferno between the two of us. And Seven Hells…” He leans in, until his lips are merely a breath away from you. “I want to burn.” 

Burn. Burn, like the flames you use to watch the future. The reminder of everything that is at stake makes you jump in your haste to get away from him. 

Daemon doesn’t get angry. Instead, he gives you a long look. 

“I know you desire me. I can tell. Your face is warm, your pupils are blown… Your body betrays you when your mouth refuses to speak. So what is the problem?” 

“You are not for me.” You are too scared to say it plainly. Admitting out loud the two of you can never be together is akin to burying your relationship. Hence, the puzzles and mysteries. 

“Not for you?” Daemon frowns slightly, before he realizes your meaning and his expression turns into a full-blown frown. “You mean, you saw some shit in those flames of yours?” 

“Excuse me?” The rage you feel at him daring to question your visions makes you forget your previous thoughts about keeping your distance, getting in his face.  “How dare you…?” 

Daemon grasps a hand you hadn’t even realized you were using to gesture aggressively in his direction, shushing you. 

“Let us say I believe in your Red God.” He tugs you towards him, letting you collide against his chest. The feeling of him, so firm, so solid against you, is heavenly. You close your eyes, unable to help it. He smells of fire and sweat and something so utterly him it makes you begin to daydream about what it would be like if you could be his. It’s the sweetest of all agonies. “You saw me with someone else?” 

The words hit you like a bucket of cold water. Someone else. Someone he belongs to, someone whose line will bring the Prince that was promised, to save you from the long night. 

You should focus. This is your reality. You are nothing but a voice for R'hllor, you are not meant to want anything else but to spread his word and message. You are not some princess from a fairytale, who will get the handsome knight in the end. 

Yet, it aches. It stings, it hurts. It’s a death from a thousand cuts. All your life, you have dedicated yourself to the cause, and when there is a single thing you want for yourself, you are not allowed to have it. 

“I did. You belong to another woman.” You say, even when it hurts you to do so. R'hllor gives his strongest warriors the worst battles, you try to remember yourself. 

“I do not want that other woman.” Daemon grasps your face between his hands, forcing you to meet his eyes. He presses his forehead against yours. “I want you.” 

“From her line and your line shall come Azor Ahai.” You whisper, trying to get him to understand even when your own heart is breaking. “The prince that was promised. To fight the darkness, the cold, the terrors. I cannot…” 

Instead of scoffing at your beliefs, like he had done before, Daemon sighs. He closes his eyes, before opening them again. 

“These futures you see… They can’t be changed?” 

“I cannot risk it. The fates of our entire world, for a moment of fleeting pleasure?” You untangle yourself from him. “I am sorry, Daemon. I cannot risk it.” 

DAEMON HAD SPENT the whole week thinking about it. Seeing you walk around court, a whisper of red skirts and red curls tumbling down your back, made his heart ache. 

He had never wanted to belong anywhere. He was a Prince of House Targaryen, closer to gods than men. There was no point in attempting to conform or to tie himself down somewhere. 

If someone had asked him before if he thought there was a place where he belonged, he would have said Valyria. If someone asked him now… Daemon only wanted to be yours. And he hated the fact that he could not be. 

He had spent his evenings pouring over all the Red Keep’s library had to offer on prophecies, and then some. It had been a fruitless endeavor. There was little to be learned about prophecies and a lot to be learned about them. His knowledge of dragon dreams alone told him that. They were capricious things, more likely to come true in unexpected ways than to actually make any sense. 

It was why he had always distrusted dreams. It was why he was willing to risk it and be with you. If one tried to avoid the prophecy, it might come true regardless. Or it could seem straightforward, but one could be interpreting it wrong, and just when you thought it meant one thing, it meant another one. 

He wasn’t about to claim to be an expert on how Red Witches worked, but he didn’t care. Even if it doomed the whole world, Daemon wanted to be with you. It was why he had come to seek you out once more. 

You were looking lovelier than ever, seated upon a windowsill watching dawn come. The sunlight played against your features, making it seem as if you were a being of pure light, coming together slowly as the dawn broke. 

You didn’t turn to look at him, but you moved slightly aside, making space for him to sit next to you. Daemon didn’t know how you did it, but you had an eerie sense to know when someone approached you. He hoped that someday you would explain to him how the trick worked. 

He sat next to you, in silence. He grasped your hand in his before he even attempted to speak. You were warm and soft, as you always were. 

“I know not of prophecies.” Daemon began, voice pitched low. For your ears only, less someone else overheard and took him for a sentimental fool. He was one, but only for you. There was no point in ruining his reputation before the entire court. “But I know my heart. I want to belong to you, Priestess. As long as you will have me.” 

“I cannot have…” You begin, and Daemon isn’t about to let you ruin it. 

“Renounce your vows. Or don’t. I’ll convert. Believe in your vision, or don’t. I fear you might have changed it already, with how much I wish to be yours and only yours.” The words just keep coming, and you look horrified at the blasphemy he is spouting. Daemon knows he cannot convince you of anything if you get too incensed and burn him to a crisp.  He raises his palms placatingly. “If your god deals in absolutes, it might have come to pass, and we might have only a short while together. If he doesn’t, perhaps a child of ours will marry a child of hers."

“Are you trying to lecture me on how I should interpret my own visions?” You arch an eyebrow, the very picture of disbelief. Has he gone too far? 

“I would never. I only mean to say…” 

“What if the world implodes? What if the Long Night comes and no one is there to save us from the darkness?” 

“Then I will make the damn child if the future is fixed so. Have a little faith in your god. If this Azor Ahai has to be here, he will be here. Through whatever means it takes him.” 

“That’s not how this works!” You say, outraged. Your cute little face scrunches up in fury, and Daemon thinks he has never met anyone as irresistible as you are. 

“Then teach this poor sinner how to be properly devoted.” Daemon pulls you to him, and hugs you tightly. He has never in his life begged for anything, but for you, he is willing to try. “Let me be yours. Keep the vows, or don’t. Do as you please. I’ll be your husband, your lover, your whore. Anything. As long as I am yours.” 

And thankfully, you save him from further embarrassment. Just as the sun rises fully into the sky, you turn to him and quiet him with a kiss. 

[eccentricallygothic]

|| The Storms ||

Description: A day in the life of the Storm family. 

Pairing: Dad!Johnny Storm | Mom!You.

Disclaimer: I (unfortunately) do not own Johnny Storm. 

Warning(s): None of the explicit sort. Fluff, Johnny and his spawns being proper little menaces, stressed out human mom Y/n, mild marital affection, authoritative father!Johnny towards the end, d/s undertones. 

Note: Yes, this is very much a coping fic lmfao. The reason why this doesn't have a teaser is because it was supposed to be a drabble. Feedback is much appreciated 🩷

Read the nsfw part 2 here.

MASTERLIST 

Getting to trust and then dating Johnny storm was one thing. But marrying him and having kids with him?

One word. 

Chaotic.

And as your youngest (at the moment) burst into the scorching flames all of your others had also done at her age, you had to step back before pinching the bridge of your nose to attempt composure. The smell of burning cloth and wood hit your nose before the alarm went off and water sprayed out, causing you to close your eyes as you focused on your breathing to remain calm. 

You liked to believe you had rather mastered your ability to cope with your little superhuman family's antics. 

"Hey, little Princess~" you heard your husband's much proud and smug coo from behind you before you could call out for him. Good. Your daughter who was still very much orange and in flames giggled and clapped her chubby little hands at the sight of her father, the fire control system having extinguished everything around her but not quite the source. 

"Dada!" The little ball of fire reached out for Johnny, the cause of all of this, and cackled along with the man when he easily picked her up as she was, unfazed by the heat. And though he absolutely adored his kids anyways, your husband was especially sweet right now.

Because it was a triumphant moment for him.

Ever since your eldest had inherited his power, you two betted everytime you got pregnant whether the next baby would be like you or him.

And you had just lost yet again.

It seemed your genes did not even try against your husband's extraordinary ones.

"Ohhh look at this here little Bree Storm following into her Daddy's footsteps!" You rolled your eyes and sighed, spinning on your heels before trudging to the kitchen while your husband baby-talked to your daughter. 

Great. 

You loved your family and were very grateful for them. 

But it would be nice if at least one of your kids took after you and your ordinariness.

Because five hyperenergetic, extremely naughty and robust superhuman children along with their father who was honestly no better than them at times were a tad bit much for a very human you at times. 

And as you stepped into the kitchen, the scene unfolding before you pushed aside any guilt regarding the annoyance that you were feeling in this moment. 

Because Torus, your eldest (8), who had recently learnt how to fly was bolting across the expanse of the kitchen as he urged his successor, Axel (6), to follow into his stance, instructing her on how she could trigger the flight. 

The son you had had after them, Sonny (5), was happily sitting on a counter and swinging his legs back and forth with the marshmallow jar placed next to him as he fished one out, s'mored it and then put it in his mouth. 

The older of your youngest ones, Jacqui (4) was 'drawing' on a fine, much expensive canvas (if you said so yourself) that Johnny had gotten her when he had realized her artistic edge. The girl was seated in the safest spot as opposed to her siblings; on the floor. Only, she was using her hot red index finger to trace the patterns into the surface of the canvas instead of on it. 

You willed your widened eyes into closing again as you did another breathing exercise, the water from the fire extinguisher system still dripping down your nose that was so accustomed to the smell of fire that you didn't even mind it much anymore. 

Now your mind contemplated whether or not to call Johnny for help. Because it was a running challenge between you two that all of Daddy's babies needed him, which included you; the original one. But you liked to deny and prove that you could manage it on your own without him and did not need his constant help to handle your own kids. 

Except you did, but you would never admit it.

Though when Torus hit one of the lights that hung from the ceiling like the brat he was -something Johnny said the boy inherited from you, like he himself was any better- and almost knocked the cover and his own eye out, you decided pride could wait for now.

"Johnny!" You bellowed, causing the little deviants to look up with a startle only to start giggling when they realized that it was just you. A pout made its way on your lips as you huffed. Unbelievable! 

"Yes, sweeth…" Your husband appeared in the doorway after having put Bree in one of Jacqui's old rompers.

Your kids' clothes were all made of the same material as that of Johnny's uniform that they had managed to recreate at the lab. This was done to prevent wastage of the expensive baby clothes that he liked to personally shop for every child independent of your buyings.

But this time around you had only bought regular clothes as you had felt sure Bree was like you. 

Oh, Johnny was so gonna tease your futile confidence for months!

The bratty lot squealed and bolted past you to hide behind their dad, pretending to cower from your nonexistent wrath. "DADDY, SAVE US!" They cried in unison, drowning out your husband's voice in their playful cries that had a mix of knowing giggles and plotting hushed whispers in them. 

You crossed your arms over your chest as you pursed your lips tightly, shaking your head while eyeing them with an unimpressed look. 

This was routine. 

They would cause all kinds of chaos known to man and then the moment you tried to put your foot down -which was hard enough for you as it was because their faces that were such a perfect and synchronized mix of the one you loved so much in addition to your own were very hard to stay mad at-, Daddy was being summoned and put between your bodies like a rock. 

Oftentimes a traitorous rock for you, if you said so yourself.  

All their personalities were variants of his and Johnny made his pride and support for his naughty little clones very obvious. 

"Ho, ho, ho!" You heaved another sigh as you shook your head at the comical way your husband widened his brilliant blue eyes. "What is this that I am hearing?! What is going on?!" Johnny deepened his voice to mimic an authoritative one. "Daddy demands an explanation for this cruel commotion!" As the brats cheered, your annoyed eyes turned to him and his playfully puffed out chest deflated fast. 

Pushing one hip out, you raised an eyebrow and put a foot out to tap against the ground, cocking your head to the side. "You do, do you, Daddy?" The firmness in your tone had him spring up and turn to the kids to shush them like the most obedient husband ever. 

"That was for you little miscreants!" Now it was your turn to be smug as you smirked and jutted your chest out proudly. "You know the rule! No one misbehaves with Mommy and everyone obeys her!" The kids whined and tossed themselves left and right, the little lot now shuffling away from him and in your legs to be saved from the cruelty of their father. 

"Sorry, mommyyyyy!" You could not help but snicker as you shook your head at the wailing cuties, nodding at Johnny to stop when he went to reprimand them further only for your sake as you knew he did not like doing it on his own account. 

"To the breakfast table, all of you!" As the group shuffled before marching to their ordered destination like the most well-behaved little superhumans ever, you knew there was strength in numbers. 

"So you see, Mommy…" A silent gasp escaped you when your husband's huge and hot hand crept along your waist from behind before grasping one of your hips, mouth against the shell of your ear. "All of Daddy's babies need him" Bree, who was still enveloped in one of his arms, giggled and clapped as if in agreement. The baby girl loved to see you two just existing together in marital bliss. 

You snorted and rolled your eyes -a habit that had gotten you in trouble with him a handful of times- before holding your hands out for your toddler who gladly eased down and into your hold. "Well then," you paused to peck at your daughter's feather-soft rosy cheek. "Daddy should sit his big butt down and eat up so he can remain strong for his babies" your daughter cackled when Johnny clicked his tongue in disapproval after doing one of his dramatic gasps only for you to pinch him by the ear before dragging him behind you and towards your spawns.

"Language, please– wooaaah!" Bree's siblings joined in on the giggling and you couldn't help but follow suit when Johnny's big body awkwardly flailed as it bent downwards in your direction to keep up, plopping down in the Daddy chair at his end of the table when you finally approached it.

"Now, honey" you said after putting your toddler in her high chair and placing her baby plate in front of her, approaching your husband's seat as you waited for him to finish serving the kids. Your hands rested on his broad shoulders as he went along joking and scooping. 

"Yes, my sweets?" That earned him collective cringed out retches from the older kids and you. "Hmmm…" You could just imagine his conspiratorial smirk. "I don't know why but it smells like grounding season in here" Bree unknowingly blinked at her siblings' denying whines as she chomped on her baby food. "That's what I thought." You rolled your eyes at Johnny's smug snicker as he reinforced his authority, reveling in the apologies that were presented to him.

You waited for the commotion to die down before speaking. "Hun, would you be so kind as to tell our superkids about what we have decided?" Johnny took a bite of his toast that you shook your head at since he offered it to you first, nodding with a hum and clearing his mouth out with a swallow before he continued on with your request. 

"Of course, dear" he twisted a little to give the first forkful of his eggs to you as you weren't eating yet. "Okay, now." Facing your extraordinary lot, Johnny began. "Mommy and I have been discussing this for quite some time now and we have come to a mutual agreement" if it were not for Johnny now using his dad voice, you could just imagine Sonny asking him what mutual meant and then Torus calling him stupid only for Axel to defend her favorite brother and the conversation fading into chaos. 

But no one messed with Daddy when he meant business. 

A blush crept up your cheeks at the thought. 

The contrast between his usual bubbly self and authoritative father when it was needed was something even you had to admit was impressive.

And extremely attractive. 

You were more the pushover parent, helpless at the hands of your maternal impulses and the softheartedness that you had for the brats. But Johnny… He could play around as the fun parent all day long and then put his foot down as a strict father like it was nothing. 

Only he could have your deviants all line up in place like it wasn't his spoiling them that turned them into the little brats that they were in the first place.

But you did not actually mind their natures because, not that you were the sappy pro-birth kind of a weirdo mom, they were the best thing you had ever done. 

For they were the product of the love and bond that you shared with the best man you had ever had the pleasure of knowing.

Johnny. 

Your Johnny. 

You slightly jumped as Jacqui squealed at something your husband said only to lower her head and mutter out an apology when Johnny glanced at her, the ordeal breaking you out of your reverie. You could swear your kids had better intelligence and coherence than other kids their ages. 

"Thank you, Jacqui" he firmly nodded at the girl who could pass off as his literal doppelganger because of how alike their faces were, only hers had a femininity to it. "Now, back to the discussion; house rules" though none of them whined, the scowls on their faces made you snort. "I am sorry, Mommy" you bit your lip as he only half turned his head to look over his shoulder. "But will you care to share what was so funny about that?" Your cheeks pinked and suddenly you were nothing but his little girl again. 

"N- Nothing, sir" that was the name he was called by the one who misbehaved. 

"I see" the edge to his tone made you mirror Jacqui until he turned away. "So, as I was saying before I was interrupted by two of my best girls…" He shot you both one last firm look before continuing. "Torus, no more flying in the house, buddy. We have been over this a couple times already at this point and…" The boy peeked up at his father through his thick blonde fringe as he munched on his cherry tomato. "Not cool" Johnny shook his head for emphasis. "It's a safety hazard."

You hummed in agreement, nodding authoritatively like you hadn't just been handled in a similar manner. 

"And everything that is dangerous like showing cool little tricks to the neighbors' kids" Axel lowered her head as her father's gaze set on her to make her feel called out. "Or making s'mores yourself" Sonny hid his face behind his plate when the older man leaned towards him. "Or using anything other than paints and colors to draw" Jacqui was pouting exactly like the man speaking to her did when he was annoyed, playing with her eggs quietly. "Will get you in serious trouble" he paused momentarily. "But above all, misbehaving with or disobeying Mommy, who looks after you all day long and loves you all so much, will earn you a talk with me from now on" they visibly shuddered at the thought. 

Johnny clapped his hands in a concluding manner now. "So I advise we all be good from now and respect her" then his stern tone changed to a more heartfelt one. "Because we can seriously hurt her if we're not careful" you softly pouted and squeezed his shoulders a little, feeling a bit conscious of your differences all of a sudden. "Now you guys don't want to hurt your Mama, do you?" The way they vehemently shook their little heads at once made your heart swell and you cooed, forgetting all about your momentary insecurity.

"No, Mommy!" Torus and Sonny reassured you. 

"We love you so much!" Axel, being the most emotionally intelligent one, looked nearly concerned. 

"Never wanna hurt you, Mama" Jacqui's earnest words made your heart melt and you were enveloping her in your arms before you knew it. 

"Oh, sweetie. I know you don't" kissing her forehead, you reached for Sonny as he was making grabby hands for you from beside her. And before you knew it, Axel and Torus came rushing to you from across the table, the bunch wrapping around you as kisses and reassurances were showered on you. 

Though you couldn't see it, Johnny was smiling at the sight before him with pure adoration in his eyes as your giggles rang in the kitchen that had been witness to nearly every sound of your lives.

Disagreements, chatter, laughter, cries, make ups, retches, moans, coos, wails, chuckles and love. 

Pure, concentrated, genuine, tender, ever-strong, unconditional love. 

"SUPERHUMAN SANDWICH!" As Johnny did his loud and deep monster voice before jumping up to collect Bree in his arms to collapse on you all to create a tangle of limbs, you craned your neck backwards to look up at his billion dollar smile. Your husband's laughter mixed with that of your kids as you held them tight, feeling your heart swell but only momentarily since you had to break into a series of alarmed shrieks when he turned the sandwich into a tickle fight.

Yes, your family was a fireball of superhuman menace. 

But the chaos made them who they were. 

Yours. 

And there was not a thing you'd change about it.