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lincolndjarin · 4 months

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Not So Secret Santa

javier peña x fem!reader

this is a part of the @pedrostories gift exchange!!

summary : you get the only person you didn't want for your offices secret santa.

warnings/tags : 18+ mdni, enemies/friends to lovers, canon divergence, steve is your boss/close friend, reader and javier have a complicated relationship, reader is insecure, brief mentions of alcohol, porn with plot, smut, light angst, javier and reader fight physically but it's very light with no actual injury, masturbation, semi-public sex, p in v, idk how to properly tag this but javi likes boobs in this so he touches boobs, unprotected sex (don't do this, wrap it this holiday season), use of a makeshift gag, rough yet very loving sex because it's christmas and christmas magic means i can write what i want.

tldr : you and javi have sex in his office and you put his tie in his mouth to shut him up.

word count : 4.4k

✦ : merry christmas @taro-666 !!! i'm your secret santa !!! i hope you're well this holiday season and i hope you enjoy this fic !! i haven't written much peña, despite how much i love him so i hope i did him justice and i hope you have a wonderful holiday <3 <3 (also sorry this is a little late (20 minuetes left before midnight so we're good). i was out with family all day and was only just now able to get to my laptop, i promise i didn't forget about you lmao)

no use of y/n, reader has hair and painted nails & javier sort of half picks her up at one point, nothing else is described besides clothing.

lovely dividers by @saradika-graphics

“Please, Steve, I’ll give you a week's pay.” You lean across his desk, genuine desperation in your voice after an hour of begging.

“Not gonna happen.” He doesn’t even bother looking up from his computer.

“A month.” Your voice is starting to pitch up, something similar to anguish in your tone. Your offer finally gets a reaction out of him as his eyes widen, head tilting up.

“Jesus, you can’t be serious.” He’s examining your expression, trying to determine the sincerity of your claim.

“My entire Christmas bonus.”

“Okay, stop.” He sighs, giving you a sympathetic look. “We’re not allowed to switch.”

“When did you become such a stickler for the rules?” You cross your arms in front of your chest.

“It’s just a secret Santa. He’s our friend, whether you like it or not, you two are close and this shouldn’t be this big of a deal, now go, please, I need to finish up here so I can leave at a reasonable hour.” He loosens his tie as you sigh.

“It’s not just a secret Santa, Steve. It’s an opportunity for him to tell me that I once again didn’t do something right. No matter what I get him, it isn’t going to be good enough.” Even as you’re saying it you can see that he isn’t going to change his mind about this.

“He’s a dick to everybody. That’s inevitable, it just means he’s comfortable with you.” He’s already turning back to his work.

“Please, Steve.”

“No.”

You glare down at him, giving him your angriest look as his gaze tilts back up to meet yours.

When it’s clear that he isn’t going to switch you turn and leave, slamming his office door in the process.

“Don’t forget, I need you here early to help set up for the party!” His muffled voice seeps out into the hall as you walk away.

Once you’re out in your car and far away from prying eyes you unfold the damned slip of paper you’d drawn earlier today.

Javier P.

Of course, you got stuck with fucking Peña, a nickname you’d given him a few months ago. He absolutely hates it but the entire time you’ve worked for the DEA he’s gone out of his way to bother you. Sure, he’s your “friend”, in a strange, complicated way. But he still drives you up the wall with his constant need to one up you and the way he’s constantly making passes at women around the office.

And it’s not like you have any problems with him sleeping around, lord knows you’ve had a fair amount of one night stands, but he just has to hit on every woman you work with.

Every single woman, except you.

You’d never admit it of course but a part of you will always be self conscious about that fact. It doesn’t help that Javier absolutely adores bothering you at every possible moment. He loves nothing more than to pester, annoy, and mock you, spending nearly half his day leaning over your desk despite the million complaints you’ve sent Steve about his persistent partner.

He’ll sit on your desk, doing an endless amount of things to cause you distress. Like crowding you with his cigarette smell and vanilla cologne as he tells you you’re filling papers wrong, or telling you what colors to paint your nails, or solving your cases before you can even get to them, or teasing you about your shitty car. Today he wouldn’t stop bothering you about your weekend plans like he doesn’t already know exactly where you’ll be.

“Are you doing anything this weekend?” He’d asked with that devastating smirk and eyebrow raise combo.

“I have to go buy my secret Santa gift, just like everyone else.” You’d turned away, avoiding eye contact as he scoffed.

“What about Saturday?” He continued to pry, you wanted nothing more than to shove his perfect ass off your desk.

“The Christmas party, Javi. Just like everyone else.” You had sighed, squeezing the bridge of your nose as Emilia had walked past your desk. Javier immediately forgot your entire conversation as he turned to her.

“I love your nails.” He’d pushed his hair out of his face, holding his hand out to take hers, getting a closer look at the well manicured designs.

You had tuned out after that. Not wanting to be involved in the exchange as you went back to typing. Acutely aware of your own nails.

Red chipped paint.

You couldn’t help but wonder what it must be like to be the object of his affection.

It wouldn’t matter if he did hit on you, you would probably reject him anyway.

Probably.

It doesn’t matter, it’s never gonna happen so why let it bother you?

With a sigh you toss the paper into your cup holder, reaching to turn on the radio, maybe some Christmas music will make you feel better. Of course nothing happens as you turn up the volume knob but it makes you want to scream regardless.

Stupid fucking Peña.

Stupid broken radio, stupid shitty car.

“Fuck.” You mumble under your breath as you shift into drive.

Before you know it you’re back in your car in the DEA office parking lot, this time a few things are different though.

You’re dressed nicer, trading your slacks in for a skirt and your dress shirt for a sweater. And of course you now have a small wrapped box in your lap.

Since you had yesterday off for the holiday you spent your Friday at the mall, searching for a gift for Javier. Eventually you had settled on three little things; Nicotine gum, mostly because you’ll get more work done if he isn’t constantly dragging you outside for his smoke breaks. He complains too much about going alone and it’s always been easier not to argue, now he can stay at your desk with his gum. Beard oil, the fancy stuff he always insists on using in his mustache. You’d bought him the wrong kind last year for his birthday and you still haven’t heard the end of it. And a lighter, you had to beg the shop owner to make an exception and do a same day engraving of his birthday.

Jesus.

You know way too much about him.

You arrived two hours early as requested by Steve to help him set up. With the wrapped box tucked under your arm you anxiously tap the patterned wrapping paper with your freshly manicured nails.

“You should paint your nails green, I love green.” He had said through a drag of his cigarette.

Why did you let that idiot's opinions influence this decision? You feel foolish. The green chrome polish shimmering in the street lights in the parking lot as you step into the building. You had extra time while you were waiting for the engraving and you just couldn’t help yourself when the salon was just a few stores away. The image of Javier holding your hand and examining your painted nails while telling you how nice they looked was just too tempting. Maybe he’d even ask if you did it just for him, and you could drag him into a closet at the party, the exact situation you watched unfold last year. Except in that scenario you weren’t the lucky lady he’d run off with that night.

There’s no time to be thinking like that.

You shake off whatever filth you were imagining as you look around the hectic mess of garland and glitter.

Steve is already stressing, setting up tables as you set your gift under the tree before getting to work. The office is already mostly decorated but with his new position as supervisor Steve is insistent that everything be perfect his first Christmas in charge. So you plate food, and you mix drinks exactly as he wants them, and you hold the ladder steady when he insists on putting more lights up. When you’ve got about a half an hour before guests start arriving you’re finishing up and last minute touches, the two of you crowded around a drink tower.

The tension from your conversation yesterday seems to have fizzled out as you become engrossed in your work, when you’ve both finished he gives you an appreciative look.

“Thank you, seriously, it means a lot.” You help him adjust his tie as he straightens out his shirt.

“Anytime, although I’m surprised you didn’t just ask Javier.” You pat his shoulder as you finish, brushing a stray blonde hair out of his eyes.

He laughs, a nervous chuckle that makes you raise an eyebrow but when you open your mouth to comment on it he lets out a relieved sigh as the first of your coworkers arrive.

More people show up than you could have expected.

You stay near Steve for most of the beginning until he gets dragged away by one of the higher ups who had made an appearance, leaving you alone to sip your drink against the back wall. You hum along to a Christmas song that plays loud enough to drown out any conversation you might eavesdrop on to entertain yourself in his absence, your eyes scan the crowds as you try to match up the people you work with with their spouses.

You’re getting ready to find another group to talk to when you catch a glimpse of him standing against the opposite wall, talking to Bonnie, the woman who works in the cubicle next to yours.

Fucking Peña. Dressed in a stupidly tight green dress shirt.

You should leave them alone, especially if he’s trying to make a move on her. But you can’t help it as you make your way around the room towards them, a vague sense of jealousy settling in your stomach.

String lights twinkle across the ceiling of the office, creating a warm ambience throughout the space, just as you’re about to tap him on the shoulder you overhear their conversation.

“I had to beg Steve to switch with me, took an hour of convincing and a week's paycheck but it’ll be worth it to see the look on her face.” His back is to you as he leans in closer to Bonnie.

He’s probably talking about one of the other women from the office. Steve probably had someone Javier was trying to impress and that’s why Steve didn’t want to trade with you, he had already promised his pick to Javier.

Whatever, you can’t be too bothered about that. It does make you want to return to your spot on the other side of the room but you don’t get the chance to as the music is turned down rather suddenly.

One of the secretaries, Benjamin, stands on a chair, making an announcement that it’s time to do the secret Santa. You manage to twist through the crowds so Javier never sees you, finding his gift and bringing it to where he now stands, simultaneously keeping an eye out for your own gift.

You hand him the box, watching the way his face lights up.

“You picked me?” He grins as you nod, carefully peeling back the wrapping paper as you feel a tap on your shoulder. Benjamin waits behind you, leaning in to whisper while you watch Javier open his gift.

“It was short notice so we didn’t have time to get you a back up gift but your secret Santa told us at the last minute that he forgot to get you something, he promised to bring in something after New Years, I’m so sorry.” You feel a little disappointed as he murmurs but it isn’t that big of a deal, it’s a busy time of year and people can forget things.

“No worries, do you know who it was? I’d like to at least tell them it’s fine.” You turn away from Javier as he smiles at the nicotine gum, Benjamin's eyes flicker from your face to Javier’s before he gives you a sympathetic look, walking away.

Javier traded for your name?

As your head tilts to look at him now you can see the smirk he’s now sporting.

“ …but it’ll be worth it to see the look on her face.”

Javier had made a conscious effort to get your name just so he could not get you something.

Huh.

That doesn’t feel great. The look he gets to see on your face is betrayal and then just sadness. You don’t really care what the reason for his decision is, you turn and walk away from him regardless. If he tries to say something to you it’s drowned out by the music that starts once again.

Why are you so upset over some stupid joke? If it had been anyone else you wouldn’t have cared, you’d have brushed it off as a harmless accident but this wasn’t an accident.

Maybe he didn’t really think of you as a friend.

Maybe all of the teasing and one-upmanship really was from a place of animosity and you were just too blind and too infatuated to see it. You want to cry but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction so you sift through the bowl of keys, searching for the Star Wars keychain attached to your lanyard but you can’t find it. The combination of the blaring Christmas songs with the frustration you’re currently feeling only makes you more emotional.

You don’t want to go to the bathrooms where you might run into someone and you can’t go to Steve’s office because he might be talking to his supervisor, so you go to the only place you know there won’t be people.

Javier’s office.

You walk as quickly as you can, slipping inside as you slam the door shut behind you, clicking the lock in place before turning around, resting against the door as you feel tears spilling from your eyes. It isn’t until he clears his throat that your head snaps up.

Today is just not your day.

Did he know you’d come here? How the hell did he beat you here? He’s fidgeting with the lighter you bought him, watching it light and go out as he sits with your keys in his other hand.

Your face feels hot as you take in the sight of him.

“Give me my keys.” You hold your hand out, wiping your eyes with the other as you wait. Of course he doesn’t hand them over, that would be too easy and today is insisting on being difficult.

“I really liked your gift. Seriously, this is… outrageously thoughtful.” He murmurs, seemingly unaware of your mood until he takes a closer look at you, his expression shifting as he realizes your eyes are rimmed with red. “Why are you so upset? What happened?” He slides open a drawer, tossing your keys into his desk while you consider calling a cab.

What a foolish question.

How could he possibly not know?

“I want to leave, I’m sick of this party.” You turn to leave, maybe Steve can drive you home.

“Come on, the parties barely started.” He’s on his feet, he doesn’t try to corner you, if anything he sets himself against the wall.

“And I want to leave.” When you reach for the doorknob he grabs your wrist, holding it as he stares at you, a look of impatience crosses his face.

“Don’t tell me you’re mad about the secret Santa.” His brows furrow.

��This isn’t about a stupid secret Santa.”

“It sure seems like it is.” He’s still holding your wrist, why is he still holding your wrist?

This isn’t about the secret Santa. It’s a lot more than that, and after ages of keeping your thoughts to yourself in front of him you just let it out.

“This is about the fact that you don’t even care about me enough to make any sort of effort. I know you deliberately chose me, you specifically chose to do this to me and I don’t care that it’s just a stupid prank. It still- It’s still a shitty thing to do.” Your voice starts cracking half way through and you can feel your eyes welling up again but it doesn’t matter anymore, you were wrong, the two of you aren’t friends.

“So this is about the secret Santa.”

Of course he wouldn’t get it.

“You’re an idiot.” You finally pull your wrist from him.

You aren’t sure what else to do so you shove him, his back hitting the wall with a soft thud as you push past him to get to his desk, hoping to grab your keys but he catches your waist first.

“Can you stop being so stubborn for five seconds and just let me explain myself?” You can tell his patience is wearing thin, his voice is strained as he pulls you back against him, caging you against his chest with his arms.

“Fuck Javi- let me go-” You try to kick his knees but he anticipates it, shifting his legs to avoid you.

“Just wait- listen to me.” He swings you around a bit as he tries to still you, you can feel his breath hitching, the buttons of his shirt digging into your back. The two of you thrash around for another moment until you freeze, feeling something poking your hip. When he realizes why you stopped putting up a fight he lets you go in an instant. “Shit- I-I’m sorry.” He stammers as you turn around towards him, eyes wide.

You never thought you’d see Javier Peña flustered yet here he is. When you take a step back his cheeks are burning red, his fingers twitch nervously at his side, and as much as you try to ignore it, his pants are tighter than usual. (And considering how tight they usually are this is quite a feat.) He won’t look you in the eye.

“It- It’s fine, Javi.” You adjust the hem of your skirt, trying to fix your hair. You just can’t catch a break today. “It was an accident, there was a lot of- of friction and it happens. I think I should just go.” You stutter a bit trying to find the right words. This entire evening has been catastrophic, and you’re more than ready to call it a night.

“It’s not an accident.” He mumbles, finally looking at you, not bothering with subtlety as he adjusts himself. “You should probably go.”

If it’s not an accident you don’t want to go.

You want to stay and keep making accidents, starting with rushing forward into him, taking his face in your hands and kissing him. Which is exactly what you do. At first he doesn’t react and you worry you read the situation wrong but when you pull away, just an inch, his hands envelop you.

Hips, waist, back, shoulders, hair. He’s everywhere, all consuming as his teeth graze your lips, in an instant your backside hits his desk.

When he finally does remove his lips from yours his are slick and a tiny bit swollen, his pupils swallow his irises whole.

“I loved your gift, I wasn’t joking, it’s perfect and the last thing I want is for you to think that I don’t care about you. Of course we’re friends, you-” As he rambles on you ball up the end of his tie, unceremoniously shoving it between his teeth.

“Talk later, this now.” You grab the bottom of your sweater, pulling it up over your head, watching his jaw tense at the sight of your chest, his hands playing with the strap of your bra as you hop up onto his desk. Hiking your skirt up, he slots himself between your legs, your own fingers push your panties to the side as he reaches behind you, easily twisting the clasp of your bra to release it, tossing it to the side as his enormous palms engulf your breasts.

You dip your fingers into the wetness between your legs, briefly taking a moment to wonder how you found yourself here. Just moments ago you were ready to leave and consider your friendship with Javier over, yet now you’re spread out on his desk, on display for him as you sink your fingers into your eager cunt.

You don’t get to linger on the thought for long because he groans into the fabric of his tie and you’re pulled back into the moment.

Jesus you’re soaked.

You have no trouble pushing two slick digits into yourself. You can feel the outline of him against your thigh and you know that you need to warm yourself up to take him. He’s too engrossed in your tits to do it right now and you’ve waited too long for this, you don’t want to wait, you just want to have him.

He’s tender at first, squeezing and softly tracing the outline of your areola until he seemingly can’t control himself any longer and he pinches, rolling your nipples between his thumb and pointer finger as your whine. Back arching of the oak of his desk as you curl your own fingers. Even through the tie his moans are still somehow louder than yours, you’re briefly worried about someone hearing as you let out a whimper while he tweaks your nipple but the music’s so loud at the party you can hear Mariah Carey from here.

You don’t stop for a second, putting your focus on reaching the peak that you find yourself already getting startlingly close to. You can feel yourself pulsing as you pick up the pace, reveling in the way his eyes devour the very sight of you. You’re agonizingly close when he grabs your wrist, removing your fingers carefully as you try and resist, wanting to finish what you started, you’re about to whine when he begins unzipping his pants. You can feel your pussy clenching at the very sight of him, of course he isn’t wearing any underwear under his dress pants so the second his zipper is fully down his cock springs free.

Javier fucking Peña has a gorgeous cock.

Standing stiff and proud without either one of you even having to touch it. Pretty and pink on the tip, already leaking down the shaft. And heavy, as he takes it in his hand, his other hand gripping your waist as lines himself at your entrance. He takes a moment, eyes scanning your face, silently asking for permission.

You can’t nod fast enough but the second that you do he slides into you.

You could never conjure up something this good in your fantasies. The way he fills you, stretching you open as he whimpers into the fabric of his tie, you like that he listened, that he kept it in his mouth this long. His strokes are needy and fast, like he’s been waiting for this for so long and now he can’t help but be ravenous. You were already painfully close before he filled you with his perfect cock, it takes only a few minutes for you to be right back there. His fingers dig into your waist so hard that you’re certain he’ll leave marks as he slams in and out of you, pulling out almost entirely with every thrust.

You’re vaguely aware of the sound of his trinkets rolling off his desk and onto the floor.

“Javi, Javi, Javi.” Between gasps you chant his name, the sound encouraging him as he pushes in deep, his pelvis grinding against your clit until you see stars. Your cunt clenching around him as your orgasm is ripped out of you. Messy and loud and blurry, he fucks you through it. You’re so blissed out you can barely focus on the persistent pounding into you until you manage to come back to your senses and his hands leave your waist, instead intertwining with your fingers as his hips twitch forward and you feel him hastily pull out of you.

He spits his tie out, opting to instead bite your shoulder as he comes, the groan that leaves his throat is obscene. Raspy and filthy as he collapses down on top of you, the two of you sweating and gasping amongst the paperwork and pens now scattered across his desk.

Did that really just happen?

He manages to collect himself first, leaning back and tucking himself into his pants before quickly tending to you. He grabs a few tissues, wiping your stomach where the product of your activities lay, before redressing you, slipping the flats that had slipped off, back onto your feet, pulling your skirt back down to cover you as he slides your panties back into place, and retrieving your bra and sweater, lifting you into a sitting position as he redresses you, kissing your cheeks, nose, and forehead the entire time.

“All good?” He whispers, gentler than you’ve ever heard him as you nod, grinning.

“Good enough to make me forgive you for not getting me a present.” You reach into his drawer, grabbing your keys before sliding off of his desk.

“Maybe this was your present.” He tilts his head, kissing you again, smiling all the while.

“That was the perfect gift then.” Probably the best you’ve ever gotten.

“Are you gonna stay for the rest of the party?” He takes your hands in his, his thumbs absentmindedly rubbing circles into your skin.

“I think I need to go to bed after that.” You laugh as you jingle your keys, turning towards the door as he catches your lips in another kiss.

It makes your heart flutter. The continued affection makes you think this isn’t a one time thing. You want more. You want conversations about feelings, and to talk about what just happened, you want to feel him inside you again, and the look in his eyes tells you that you’re going to get all of that. But right now you’re tired, so the rest can wait.

“Can I walk you to your car?” You nod as he murmurs.

He doesn’t let go of your hand, walking you out of the building towards your car, opening the door for you and giving you one last kiss with a promise that he’d call you tomorrow, before you watched him walk back into the building.

Your phone buzzes as you turn your key in the ignition, the sound of Wham! fills the car, Last Christmas playing softly. You take your phone out of your pocket, checking the text notification from Javier.

[ i forgot to tell you how pretty your nails are. merry christmas hermosa ]

Your head turns up in surprise as you realize your radio is working. A new radio system is installed in the center of your dashboard, with a little green bow taped to the top, and a paper tag with Javi’s familiar messy handwriting.

from : your secret fucking santa

a/n : happy holidays everyone!!

#pedrostoriesgift23 #lincolndjarin #taro-666 <3 #javier pena smut #javier peña #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal

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jewelleria · 1 month

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I don’t usually talk about politics on here, if ever. But it’s been almost six months since the conflict in the Middle East flared up again, and I’m finally ready to start. Here are some of my thoughts.

I say ‘flared up’ because this has happened before and it’ll happen again. Because, even though what's currently going on is absolutely unprecedented, those of us who live in this part of the world are used to it. Let that sink in: we are used to this. And we shouldn’t have to be.

But I use that term for another reason: I don't want to accidentally call it the wrong thing lest I come under fire for being a genocidal maniac or a terrorist or a propaganda machine, etc., etc.—so let’s just call it ‘the war’ or ‘the conflict.’ Because that’s what it is. Doesn’t matter which side you’re on, who you love, or who you hate.

This post will, in all likelihood, sit in my drafts forever. If it does get posted, it certainly won’t be on my main, because I'm scared of being harassed (spoiler: she posted it on her main). I hate admitting that, but honestly? I’m fucking terrified.

I also feel like in order for anything I say on here (i.e. the hellscape of the internet) to be taken seriously, I have to somehow prove that a) I’m “educated” enough to talk about the conflict, and b) that my opinion lines up with what has been deemed the correct one. So, tedious and unnecessary though it is, I will tell you about my experience, because I have a feeling most of the people reading this post are not nearly as close to what’s happening as I am.

How do I explain where I live without actually explaining where I live? How do I say “I live in the Red Zone of international conflicts” without saying what I actually think? How do I convey the fear that grips me when I try to decide between saying “I live in Palestine” and “I live in Israel”? I don't really know. But I do know that names are important. I also know that, due to the various clickbaity monikers ascribed to the conflict, it would probably just be easier to point to a map.

I haven't always lived in the Middle East. I've lived in various places along America’s east coast, and traveled all over the world. But in short, I now live somewhere inside the crudely-drawn purple circle.

If you know anything about these borders you probably blanched a bit in sympathy, or maybe condolence. But in truth, it’s a shockingly normal existence. I don't feel like I've lived through the shifting of international relations or a war or anything. I just kind of feel like I did when COVID hit, that dull sameness as I wondered if this would be the only world-altering event to shape my life, or if there would be more.

I've been told that, in order for my brain to process all the horrific details of the past six months, there needs to be some element of cognitive dissonance—that falling into a sort of dissociative mindset is the only way to not go insane under the weight of it all. I think in some ways that’s true. I have been terrifyingly close to bus stop shootings when my commute wasn’t over; I have felt my apartment building shake with the reverberations of a missile strike; I have spent hours in underground shelters waiting for air raid sirens to stop.

But. I have also gone grocery shopping, and skipped class, and stayed up too late watching TV, and fed the cats on the street corner, and cried over a boy, and got myself AirPods just because, and taken out the trash, and done laundry on a delicate cycle, and bought overpriced lattes one too many days a week. I have looked at pretty things and taken out my phone because, despite it all, I still think that life is too short not to freeze the small moments.

So I'd say, all things considered, I live an incredibly privileged life—compared, of course, to those suffering in Gaza—one filled with sunsets and over-sweetened knafeh and every different color of sand. One that allows me to throw myself into a fandom-induced hyperfixation (or, alternatively, escape method) as I sit on the couch and crack open my laptop to write the next chapter of the fic I'm working on.

But there are bits of not-normalness that wheedle their way through the cracks. I pretend these moments are avoidable, even if they’re not.

They look like this: reading the news and seeing another idiotic, careless choice on Netanyahu’s part and groaning into my morning coffee. Watching Palestinian and Jewish children’s needless suffering posted on Instagram reels and feeling helpless. Opening my Tumblr DMs to find a message telling me to exterminate myself for reblogging a post that only seems like it’s about the war if you squint and tilt your head sideways.

These moments look like all the tiny ways I am reminded that I'm living in a post-October seventh world, where hearing a car backfire makes me jump out of my skin and the sound of a suitcase on pavement makes me look up at the sky and search for the war planes. They look like the heavy grief that is, and also isn’t, mine.

Here's the thing, though. I know you’re wondering when the ball will drop and my true opinion will be revealed. I know you’re waiting for me to reveal what demographic I'm a part of so that you, dear reader, can neatly slap a label on my head and sort me into some oversimplified category that lets you continue to think you understand this war.

No one wants to sit and ruminate on the difficult questions, the ones that make you wonder if maybe you’ve been tinkered with by the propaganda machine, if you might need to go back on what you’ve said or change your mind. We all strive for our perception of complicated issues to be a comfortable one.

But I know that no matter what I do, there will always be assumptions. So, while I shudder to reveal this information online, I think that maybe my most significant contribution to this meta-discussion spanning every facet of the internet is this:

I am a Jew.

Or, alternatively, I am: Jewish, יהודית, يَهُودِيٌّ, etc. Point is, I come from Jews. And, like any given person, I am a product of generation after generation of love.

I'm not going to take time to explain my heritage to you, or to prove that before all the expulsions and pogroms, there was an origin point. If you don’t believe that, perhaps it’s less of a factual problem and more of an ‘I don’t give weight to the beliefs of indigenous people’ problem. But, in case you want to spend time uselessly refuting this tiny point in a larger argument, you can inspect the photos below (it’s just a small chunk of my DNA test results). Alternatively, you can remember that interrogating someone in an attempt to make their indigeneity match your arbitrary criteria is generally not seen as good manners.

Now, let’s go back to thathateful message (read: poorly disguised death threat) I received in my Tumblr DMs. I think it was like two or three weeks ago. I had recently gained a new follower whose blog’s primary focus was the fandom I contribute to, so I followed them back. I saw in my notes that they were going through my posts and liking them—as one does when gaining a new mutual. Yippee!

Then they sent me this:

I tried to explain that hate speech is not a way to go about participating in political discourse, but the person had already blocked me immediately after sending that message. Then, assured by the fact that I surely would never see them complaining about me on their blog (because, as I said, they blocked me), they posted a shouting rant accusing me of sympathizing with colonizing settlers and declaring me a “racist Zionist fuck.” Oh, the wonders of incognito tabs.

Where this person drew these conclusions after reading my (reblogged) post about antisemitism…. I'm not actually sure. But I greatly sympathize with them, and hope that they weren’t too personally offended by my desire to not die.

For a while I contemplated this experience in my righteous anger, and tried to figure out a way to message this person. I wanted to explain that a) seeing a post about being Jewish and choosing to harass the creator about Israel is literally the definition of antisemitism and b) that sending a hateful DM and refusing to be held accountable is just childish and immature. But I gave up soon after—because, honestly, I knew it wasn’t worth my effort or energy. And I knew that I wouldn't be able to change their mind.

But I still remember staring at that rather unfortunate meme, accompanied by an all-caps message demanding for me to Free Palestine, and thinking: the post didn’t even have any buzzwords. I remember the swoop of dread and guilt and fear. I remember wondering why this kind of antisemitism felt worse, in that moment, than the kind that leaves bodies in its wake.

I remember thinking, I don’t have the power to free anyone.

I remember thinking, I’m so fucking tired.

And before you tell me that this conflict isn’t about religion—let me ask you some questions. Why is it that Israel is even called Israel? (Here’s why.) Why do Jews even want it? (Here’s why.) But also, if you actually read the charters of Islamist terrorist organizations like ISIS, Hamas, and Hezbollah (among others), they equate the modern state of Israel with the Jewish people, and they use the two entities interchangeably. So of course this conflict is religious. It’s never been anything but that.

But I do wonder, when faced with those who deny this fact: how do I prove, through an endless slew of what-about-isms and victim blaming, that I too am hurting? How do I show that empathy is dialectical, that I can care deeply for Palestinians and Gazans while also grieving my own people?

There's this thing that humans do, when we’re frustrated about politics and need to howl our opinions about it into the void until we feel better. We find like-minded souls, usually our friends and neighbors, and fret about the state of the world to each other until we’ve gone around in a satisfactory amount of circles. But these conversations never truly accomplish anything. They’re just a substitute, a stand-in catharsis, for what we really wish we could do: find someone who embodies the spirit of every Jew-hating internet troll, every ignorant justifier of terrorism, and scream ourselves hoarse at them until we change their mind.

But, of course, minds cannot be changed when they are determined to live in a state of irrational dislike. In Judaism, this way of thinking has a name: שנאת חינם (sinat hinam), or baseless hatred. It's a parasite with no definite cure, and it makes people bend over backwards to justify things like the massacre on October seventh, simply because the blame always needs to be placed on the Jews.

So when a Jew is faced with this unsolvable problem, there is only one response to be had, only one feeling to be felt: anger. And we are angry. Carrying around rage with nowhere to put it is exhausting. It's like a weight at the base of our neck that pushes down on our spine, bending it until we will inevitably snap under the pressure. I’m still waiting to break, even now.

I wish I could explain to someone who needs to hear it that terrorism against Israelis happens every single day here, and that we are never more than one degree of separation away from the brutal slaughter of a friend, lover, parent, sibling. I wish it would be enough to say that the majority of Israelis (which includes Arab-Israeli citizens who have the exact same rights as Jewish-Israelis) wish for peace every day without ever having seen what it looks like.

I wish I could show the world that Israel was founded as a socialist state, that it was built on communal values and born from a cluster of kibbutzim (small farming communities based on collective responsibility), and that what it is now isn’t what its people stand for.

I wish the world could open their eyes to what we Israelis have seen since the beginning: that Hamas is the enemy, Hamas is the one starving Palestinians and denying them aid, Hamas is the one who keeps rejecting ceasefire terms and denying their citizens basic human rights. Hamas is the governing body of Gaza, not Israel. Hamas is responsible for the wellbeing of the Palestinian people. And Hamas are the ones who are more determined to murder Jews—over and over and over again, in the most animalistic ways possible—than to look inwards and see the suffering they’ve inflicted on their own people. I wish it was easier to see that.

But the wishing, the asking how can people be so blind, is never enough. I can never just say, I promise I don't want war.

When I bear witness to this baseless hatred, I think of the victims of October seventh. I think of the women and girls who were raped and then murdered, forever unable to tell their stories. I think of the hostages, trapped underneath Gaza in dark tunnels, wondering if anyone will come for them. I think of Ori Ansbacher, of Ezra Schwartz, of Eyal, Gilad, and Naftali, of Lucy, Rina, and Maia Dee, of the Paley boys, of Ari Fuld and of Nachshon Wachsman. I think of all the innocent blood spilled because of terror-fueled hatred and the virus of antisemitism. I think of all the thousands of people who were brutally murdered in Israel, Jews and Muslims and Christians and humans, who will never see peace.

My ties to this land are knotted a thousand times over. Even when I leave, a part of me is left behind, waiting for me to claim it when I return. But when I see the grit it takes to live through this pain, when I see the suffering that paints the world the color of blood, I look to the heavens and I wonder why.

I ask God: is it worth all this? He doesn't answer. So I am the one, in the end, to answer my own question. I say, it has to be.

Feel free to send any genuine, respectful, and clarifying questions you may have to my inbox!

EDIT: just coming on here to say that I'm really touched & grateful for the love on this post. When I wrote it, I felt hopeless; I logged off of Tumblr for Shabbat, dreading the moment I would turn off my phone to find more hate in my inbox. Granted, I did find some, and responding to it was exhausting, but it wasn’t all hate. I read every kind reblog and comment, and the love was so much louder. Thank you, thank you, thank you. 🤍

Source Reading

The Whispered in Gaza Project by The Center for Peace Communications

Why Jews Cannot Stop Shaking Right Now by Dara Horn

Hamas Kidnapped My Father for Refusing to Be Their Puppet by Ala Mohammed Mushtaha

I Hope Someone Somewhere Is Being Kind to My Boy by Rachel Goldberg

The Struggle for Black Freedom Has Nothing to Do with Israel by Coleman Hughes

Israel Can Defend Itself and Uphold Its Values by The New York Times Editorial Board

There Is a Jewish Hope for Palestinian Liberation. It Must Survive by Peter Beinart

The Long Wait of the Hostages’ Families by Ruth Margalit

“By Any Means Necessary”: Hamas, Iran, and the Left by Armin Navabi

When People Tell You Who They Are, Believe Them by Bari Weiss

Hunger in Gaza: Blame Hamas, Not Israel by Yvette Miller

Benjamin Netanyahu Is Israel’s Worst Prime Minister Ever by Anshel Pfeffer

What Palestinians Really Think of Hamas by Amaney A. Jamal and Michael Robbins

The Decolonization Narrative Is Dangerous and False by Simon Sebag Montefiore

Understanding Hamas’s Genocidal Ideology by Bruce Hoffman

The Wisdom of Hamas by Matti Friedman

How the UN Discriminates Against Israel by Dina Rovner

This Muslim Israeli Woman Is the Future of the Middle East by The Free Press

Why Are Feminists Silent on Rape and Murder? by Bari Weiss

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joongernaut · 1 year

Text

glitter

⇢ pairing(s): park seonghwa x reader

⇢ genres: childhood friends to almost strangers to lovers, SMUT, fluff, a little angst but literally just a smidge

⇢ warnings: tooth-rotting fluff (i could not help myself with this one), subby-ish seonghwa because we love desperate men around here, oral sex (fem receiving), vaginal sex, cowgirl, reader gets called 'noona' once, creampie (i simply forgot to write in a condom but practice safe sex everyone!)

⇢ word count: 3955

⇢ author's note: well this took a bit longer than expected but i was able to proofread and tie up the loose ends on this fic last night and now here we are! this is also my way of wiggling into writing for ateez more as they are one of my favorite groups 😁 also the song title is based off the song glitter by jamilah barry <3 enjoyyy

✧

“Did you know your little boyfriend is back in town?”

The question stopped you in mid-sip of your cup of tea as you peered over the rim of the mug at your roommate, Hongjoong. He peered back over his own mug with a little smirk on his face and a lift of his eyebrow.

Slowly bringing the mug down you let out a heavy sigh. “Oh, I’ve only heard the news about a hundred times. Kinda hard to forget, y’know,” You bit back with a sarcastic smile, “Also, he was never my boyfriend. Why does everyone keep saying that shit?”

“Hm, I really don't know,” Hongjoong said with a shrug, taking a drawn out sip from his coffee before speaking again, “It’s not like the guy followed you around like a lost puppy before and you let him. Honestly, I’m a little surprised you two didn't tie the knot right after high school, I was so sure you would be childhood sweethearts turned old, disgusting married couple.”

Hongjoong hissed as your foot kicked at his shin from under the table, glaring at him before you finally downed the contents of your mug. “God, you all are so annoying! First, my own family and now you? I don’t care if he’s in town, okay? We haven't talked in like 5 years and I highly doubt that I’d see him anyways. It’s whatever.” You said exasperatedly, chair scraping against the floor as you got up to place the empty mug into the kitchen sink.

“What if you do see him, though?” Hongjoong asked, the question once again catching you off guard. “What if he hasn't forgotten about you in the slightest in those years you two have spent apart?” He pressed on with a pointed look, watching your mouth open and close as you blinked over at him.

Park Seonghwa, from what you recalled years ago, was a very sweet boy.

You remember the first day you had met him, walking into your elementary homeroom class clinging to his mother with a thumb in his mouth and fat tears rolling down his face as he refused to let her go.

You were only 2 years older than him but still had felt the overwhelming need to protect him from any harm. And that's also how you two became close friends.

When Seonghwa would fall down and scrape his knee or elbow, you were there telling him not to cry while dusting him off and helping him get back up. When he wanted to be like the bigger kids, who were taller and strong enough to get on certain parts of the playground, you were there to encourage him and give him a boost. And when his eyes sparkled with curiosity, wanting to learn more about this and that as he gained new interests, you were there to talk and listen to him ramble on and on about anything and everything.

That Seonghwa was the one you hadn’t seen in years. You had been really good friends leading all the way up to high school and then slowly drifted apart during that time. Once college had begun, it was like he dropped off the face of the earth and you didn't hear from him for a while.

It wasn't like you to be stuck on anybody for too long, you watched many people come and go into your life before. But Seonghwa wasn't just anybody and you couldn't help but wonder about the crybaby often and what he had been up to lately.

Okay so maybe you did care just a little bit that he had come back to town. But did it really matter? After all, neither of you really made the effort to reach out to one another after going your separate ways.

You shook your head, pushing those fleeting thoughts away before you reminisced too deeply. “Like I said, I highly doubt it.” You mumbled with a shrug before turning away, a part of you truly doubtful while a sliver of yourself remained hopeful.

✧

You were home alone the very next day. Usually Hongjoong would be the one to stay inside while you were out and about but he had run off to god knows where and he insisted that you stay at the apartment to relax. “Because you deserve it.” He had told you with a wink.

So, naturally, you were suspicious.

Not that Hongjoong was an untrustworthy person or anything but this almost, overly-nice front he had put on since this morning was just a little off-putting. Before you could really begin to question him, he had already flown out of the door and was barely responding to your text messages.

He did make sure to tell you to listen out for the door, however, as he said he was ‘expecting something’. You had almost forgotten about whatever that ‘something’ would be, hours into the afternoon, until you heard the sound of knocking coming from the front door of your apartment.

Dreading on leaving the comfort of your spot on the couch, you heaved a sigh before getting up from your seat and dragged yourself over to the door to answer it. “Hello-” You swung the door open and were immediately greeted by someone's chest in your line of vision. Your eyes traveled upward and you felt your breath catch in your throat.

“Y/N… It’s good to see you again.”

The man before you looked much different from the last time you had seen him. But even with the big and little changes in his appearance and how he seemed to carry himself differently, you could still tell exactly who he was just based on the look in his eyes.

“Seonghwa,” You gaped, still not entirely sure if you were seeing him in front of you or just hallucinating after watching TV all day, “H-How… How did you…?” You trailed off with furrowed brows as he gave you a sheepish look in return.

“Ah, sorry, this is rather impromptu of me. I bumped into Hongjoong a few days ago when I first got back and he mentioned you two were roommates so…” Now it was his turn to trail off as a small blush formed on his cheeks. You mentally cursed at Hongjoong, finally putting the pieces together that he had set this all up. You didn't know whether to kiss him or kill him.

“I see,” You muttered, reminding yourself to shoot the little mastermind a colorfully worded text later, “Well, please, don't be shy. Come in, come in.” You insisted, a smile spreading across your face genuinely as you stepped to the side for him to enter.

Seonghwa smiled back gently, a sight that made your heart soar as you saw a flash of the boy you used to know appear for a split second before he stepped over the threshold.

✧

It had been hours of just talking and catching up with Seonghwa. You had learned that he was finishing up his last year of college soon, reaching to earn his degree in astronomy, and planned to move out of his dorm and into a place of his own nearby. The university he had attended was well out into the city, roughly 8 hours away, meanwhile you had attended your local college in town and graduated with your art degree about a year or so ago.

“Definitely not as cool as studying the stars and planets, though. I’m like the definition of a starving artist.” You chuckled, albeit a bit bitterly, facing Seonghwa as you propped your elbow over the back of the couch and tucked your legs underneath yourself.

Seonghwa had turned to face you as well but a bit awkward in body language, one leg crossed over the other as his hands remained in his lap stiffly. “Ah, it's not all that interesting. Trust me. Once math is involved, then you’ll see what I mean.” He said, earning another laugh from you that made his shoulders less tense and a fond smile spread on his face.

“You were always the artistic type, though. That’s something I’ve always liked and admired about you. Never afraid to be yourself… Just being able to think of something so creatively, from a vastly different perspective than anyone else, and turning it into something so beautiful. That’s always been pretty cool to me.” He went on, leaving you a bit stunned at his words.

“Hwa…” The old nickname slipped from your lips in a whispered tone and his eyes found yours, locking onto them as a few seconds passed by in stretched silence. Seonghwa opened his mouth to speak again, hesitating at first before licking his lips, and asked, “Can I tell you something?”

Words felt like they would fail you right now so you simply nodded for him to continue. Seonghwa swallowed the lump in his throat before speaking again. “I’m really happy that you still remember me. I know that's silly to say because it's only been a couple of years but I wouldn't know how to feel if you acted as if I was a complete stranger…” He said, looking away with an almost pained expression despite the smile still on his face.

“I would never! We were important to each other back then.” You told him, scooting closer to him on the couch as you reached out to place your hand over his own. Seonghwa’s eyes shot down toward the movement, feeling the warmth of you from your body’s proximity and your fingers touching him so delicately, then back up to your face. “And now? He questioned, hopeful, as he placed one of his hands over yours and squeezed.

You squeezed his hand back and sighed. “I was scared of the same thing… that you would forget about me or pretend like you did. Or you would see me and want nothing to do with me so I figured I’d try to avoid you... But after you showed up and we talked, it feels like you never really left at all.” You admitted, feeling Seonghwa subtly shuffle closer to you.

“I thought about you almost all of the time during the years we spent not with each other, Y/N. I don't think I could forget you even if I tried.” He admitted back, similar to the words Hongjoong had said to you the other day. That had to have been something Hongjoong had heard him say when they bumped into each other and you mentally noted to punch the man whenever he got home.

Right now, however, you were going to focus on Seonghwa and what you wanted to do next.

Your hand came up to wrap around the back of his neck and he froze, his body stiffening as you leaned in close until your lips were a breath away from his own. “Tell me if this is okay. I want to show you how important you still are to me.” You murmured, the movement of your lips lightly brushing against Seonghwa’s causing him to exhale shakily.

A quick nod was all the confirmation you needed before diving in, catching his mouth in a deep kiss. You untangled your other hand from his lap and brought it up to join the one around his neck as you pulled him closer, crawling your way into his lap in the process until you were straddling one of his thighs.

Seonghwa’s body shook slightly underneath you, his hands hovering over your sides as if he were hesitating to touch. You pulled away briefly, nibbling at his bottom lip before tugging it and making him groan. “You can touch me.” You said, sensing his hesitation, and started to lick the seam of his parted lips.

He let you in with no resistance, the feeling of your tongue against his wet and probing as his hands gripped onto your waist tightly.

You licked in to Seonghwa’s mouth eagerly as you started to move forward until he was effectively pushed onto his back with ease. Feeling breathless, you parted from his mouth again to catch yourself but started to trail your lips from the side of his face to his neck where you began to bite and suck at the sensitive skin there.

“Y/N…” He gasped before letting out a whiny moan. Your eyes flitted up to his face to take in the sight of Seonghwa— already looking debauched and fucked out, and you barely even started. “What do you want, Hwa?” You mumbled against his skin and he shivered at the sensation.

“Whatever you want. You take the lead. Please.” Seonghwa replied in a strained voice, holding onto you as if you were a lifeline.

When you suddenly pulled away from him and stood up, Seonghwa shot up in panic wondering if he had said something wrong until you put your hand out for him to take wordlessly.

He kept his mouth shut and took it, letting you guide him all the way to your bedroom where you closed the door behind him with a click of the lock, officially sealing your fate together.

“You told me to take the lead, right?” You questioned once you were facing Seonghwa again, slowly approaching him. Your finger traced small shapes onto his chest as you backed him up into the bed, the back of his knees hitting the edge and making him sit down.

His ass hadn't been on the bed for more than 3 seconds before Seonghwa slid off of it and onto his knees in front of you, peering up with wide expectant eyes. “Yes. You can do whatever you want to me, I’ll enjoy anything you give me.” His tone of voice sounded airy as he uttered those words and you couldn't help but run your fingers through his hair as he leaned into your touch.

“You’re already on your knees for me… surely you already had something in mind.” You smirked at him teasingly, watching him shift under your gaze. “Can I…?” He trailed off questioningly as his eyes flickered quickly from your face to the crotch of your sweatpants and back up again. Heat pooled in the pit of your stomach seeing how eager he was to please. Eager to please you.

You tugged your sweatpants down until they dropped unceremoniously onto the floor, kicking away the article of clothing before stepping closer to Seonghwa. His breathing had gotten shallow once his eyes fell onto your panty-covered pussy, the thin layer of the material leaving little to the imagination. The small wet spot he could see near the center made his cock twitch, straining against his pants.

Seonghwa’s hands gently grazed along your ankles first, gradually going higher from there to the back of your knees and up the back up your thighs. A small shiver raked through you when his fingers traced the lining of your underwear, slipping under the band a little as he grabbed ahold of your ass.

“A-Ah… Hwa…” You moaned softly when he pressed you forward into his face and placed a lingering kiss onto your mound right where your clit was. You took a step closer to him, pressing his face fully into your pussy now, and what little hold he had of his composure immediately slipped.

Seonghwa groaned as he buried his face into every crevice he could fit into, his long tongue rolling out of his mouth so he could run it along the moist material messily. “Knew you’d taste good,” He mumbled against the inside of your thigh, “Smell good, too. I could only dream about something like this happening in real life.” He added before latching his lips onto your clit and sucking the bud through the fabric. This plus the friction of your panties still covering your pussy was enough to make your body lurch forward a bit.

The back of Seonghwa’s head was now pressed against the edge of the bed, pinned between the comforter as you began to grind against his face.

“You should've told me sooner. I think I like seeing you like this.” You told him with a breathless giggle, swiveling your hips as Seonghwa tried to follow every movement to the best of his ability. He didn't mind it. You were using him to pleasure yourself and he couldn't be any more happier.

His grip on your ass had tightened when he felt you begin to back up and you rubbed your thumb against his wrist to make him loosen his hold. “I just wanna move onto the bed, Hwa.” You reassured him and he reluctantly let go. Despite not being completely bare, the evidence of your arousal shined like a gloss on Seonghwa’s bruised lips when you got a good look at him.

You crawled onto your bed, peeling your shirt and dampened panties off before throwing them somewhere you’d worry about later, and waited for Seonghwa to join you. Realizing your lack of underwear now, he followed along until he was stripped bare and crawled slowly up the bed until he was situated between your spread thighs.

Seonghwa’s eyes stayed locked onto your own as he trailed kisses along the inside of your thigh, bringing his face closer and closer until he could finally taste you without restriction or barriers.

The first swipe of Seonghwa’s tongue starting slowly from your hole up to your clit had your legs spreading out wider for him. And when his plump lips wrapped around your clit sucking earnestly, you felt your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head as you reached out to grip his hair roughly.

Seonghwa groaned, muffled by his ministrations, and the vibration of it made your hips buck up. He unlatched himself from your clit briefly only to laser focus his attention on dipping his tongue into your hole to lap up whatever juices started to leak from it.

“Hwa,” His name came out in a shuddered moan as you placed your hands on his shoulders and squeezed to get his attention, “I really need you.”

Seonghwa’s response came delayed, spending a couple extra minutes using his tongue to simply savor your taste before he made his way up your body where his mouth came crashing into yours. “You have me, baby.” He panted between open-mouthed kisses as his hand came up between your bodies to grab ahold of his throbbing cock.

“Do I?” You smirked against his mouth, nudging his hand out of the way so you could wrap your own around his length. Seonghwa gasped lightly, bucking up into the tight ring of your fist. “You think you could switch places with me, baby?” You purred as you stroked his cock languidly. It didn't take long for him to carefully flip the two of you over and have you hovering above him.

“Fuck, you're–” Seonghwa breathed out, eyes glued to your face as you rubbed the tip of his dick through your folds, “you’re just as beautiful as I always remembered but this is truly a sight.” He said while trailing his hands along your thighs then higher up to your hips where he held onto them as you lined him up to your entrance.

The breach stung a bit once you started to sink down onto him and Seonghwa rubbed his thumbs gently into your hip bones as you took your time taking him all the way inside of you. “I’m starting to believe that crush everyone keeps saying you had on me.” You sighed out once your pelvic bone met his, moving your hips slowly in small circles as you relished the way Seonghwa felt so deep inside of you.

“Have,” Seonghwa corrected as he tried to keep himself still under your movements, twitching every time he felt your walls constrict around his cock, “I think it was obvious to everyone but you.” He licked at his lips before tucking his bottom lip between his teeth when you lifted yourself up momentarily only to sink yourself back down onto him.

Picking up a steady pace now, not going too fast or too slow, you simply enjoyed the way Seonghwa stretched you out and filled you up with every movement of your hips. A whimper-like sound punched out of him when you came back down just a little bit harder, clenching around his cock, and you cooed at the noise. “Poor baby. Am I at least making it up to you well?” You pouted at him with a tilt of your head, smoothing a hand down his chest soothingly.

“Noona,” Seonghwa whined, your body immediately stiffening at the sound of his voice sounding so wrecked, “Please, please go faster.”

You obliged without question, deciding that you would have a chance to tease him another time. You pressed your hand down flat on Seonghwa’s chest and used it as leverage to ride him the way you knew you would both love; bouncing on his dick as he thrusted upward involuntarily to meet the action.

This helps Seonghwa to go a little bit deeper, the head of his cock brushing along your walls just right until he hits directly at the spot that has you quivering above him.

You can barely hold yourself up and soon feel your arm give out as you bow your back and press your foreheads together. “Feel s-so good, baby…” You muttered while staring into Seonghwa’s eyes. His half-lidded gaze stared back briefly before pressing your mouths together in an intimate kiss.

He then caught you off guard by starting to buck up into you, almost frantically, as he wrapped his arms around your body and pressed you to his chest. “Cum with me, please, please, please–” Seonghwa begged, seemingly right on the edge of cumming.

Thankfully you weren't too far behind him with the way he had started to desperately fuck into you. And with the remaining body strength you could muster, you rode him with just as much urgency while still pressed closely to his chest.

Seonghwa had been the first to tip over, pleading over and over again until his voice became slightly hoarse. He stilled himself deep inside of you before you felt warmth filling you up in spurts, a pretty drawn out moan falling from his lips as you clenched around him tightly and followed suit.

You whimpered as Seonghwa helped you ride it out, his hands placed on your waist to help you grind down against him and giving your clit some added friction.

Feeling boneless, but most of all satiated, you finally collapsed against him as he started to rub along your back and traced over your spine. The delicate feeling of his fingers sent a tingle throughout your being that you could only chalk up to the resurfacing of those feelings you had kept hidden so deep within.

Seonghwa attempted to sit up and you grumbled in protest causing a laugh to escape him. “We have to get cleaned up.” He reasoned but you only clung on to him tighter as he rose and had you seated on his lap. “Will you stay afterwards?” You asked quietly, hope laced into your tone with a hint of vulnerability. Because now that you had him in your life again you would be damned to see him go so quickly.

“Of course. I’m not going anywhere without you again.” Seonghwa said, leaning forward to press his lips chastely against your forehead before looking at you with eyes full of love and sincerity.

Those same eyes that always held the stars in them that sparkled like glitter and reassured you that he would be right by your side for as long as you would let him.

#park seonghwa #seonghwa #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez fics #ateez reader insert #ateez seonghwa #ateez x reader #kpop fanfic #kpop fics #kpop smut fics

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hwanghyunjinenthusiast · 1 year

Text

✨️1K Followers Celebration Day 6: Seventeen bias wrecker - Dino✨️

Affect

AN: This has been in my drafts for 600 years because those clips of him from In The Soop still haunt me. I just think it's funny that because it took me so long to get to this, we got even more shirtless Dino in the gym content recently. Clearly a sign from the universe to finish this lmao. I was going to go on a whole unhinged rant about him but, I'll spare you all. We're all going to ignore that 1. his is the longest so far and 2. I've written the most for him out of every idol, thanks.

Synopsis: You thought working out with Chan would be a fun, productive way to spend time together. However, you're sorely unprepared for just how distracting he can be.

Heads up: Lee Chan x Fem! Reader, friends to lovers of sorts, Reader going through it because of her attraction to Chan, praise kink (f. receiving), Chan being a menace, technically public sex I guess (they fuck in the gym but, no one catches them and it's not brought up as a concern), hair pulling, dirty talk, petnames used for Reader, nipple play (f. receiving), oral sex (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), unprotected piv sex, Reader cries a little and creampie.

Word count: 4138

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

You knew you were doomed the moment you saw Chan in his workout clothing. His shirt sticking to his torso and practically acting like a second skin. You're sure if you looked hard enough, you could see the outlines of his nipples. His shorts were worse, somehow. Beckoning you to look at his toned thighs and zero in on how they hugged his ass.

Today is going to be more challenging than you anticipated.

"So, where do you want to start?" He asks, snapping you out of so blatantly ogling one of your closest friends. God, what're you thinking? You're here to spend time with him. Not think about how broad his shoulders are and just how muscular his ass would feel if you gave it a squeeze or five.

"You're the gym expert. You tell me," You pray to whichever deity is listening that Chan mistakes the delicate quality in your voice for anything other than how much just seeing him dressed like this affects you.

His laugh is boisterous and fills you with so much warmth, turning the already present butterflies in your stomach into dragons. One person shouldn't have this much power over you.

"I better not hear any complaining then," he responds with a wide smile, his eyes crinkling with mirth. Yeah, maybe being alone with the man you're borderline in love with isn't the wisest decision you've ever made, but it's too late now. You resist the scowl that wants to make itself known on your face when you invision a knowing Soonyoung in your mind. He's the one who suggested this to begin with. You're definitely going to be having some words with him the next time you see him, that evil man. He knew exactly what he was doing.

You severely underestimated how much worse this could get. You thought just seeing him in his tight-fitting gym attire was enough to fog up your brain but, that was before you heard the noises.

Lee Chan is a vocal man in all areas of life. Well, all areas of life that you've experienced him in. He's always talking, laughing, yelling at points, singing, sometimes rapping to fill the silence, and a million other things. The point being, Chan is not a quiet man. So, it shouldn't take you by surprise that he's vocal while he's working out too.

Still, the quiet grunts that fall from his lips and fill the otherwise relatively silent gym when he lifts weights causes your heart to beat wildly in your chest. The drawn-out groans when he finishes a set or stretches out his muscles might be the worst. Coupled with the way he grits his jaw and his face contorts when he's lifting, it's frankly a miracle you haven't spontaneously combusted.

However, as you stand and watch him while he illustrates how he wants you to lift these weights to your absolute horror and mortification, you realise you're getting wet. Not only that, but a barely there ache is beginning to make itself known between your thighs.

You're sure your face is radiating enough heat to power a small apartment building. You're really getting this worked up just watching him work out? What in the world is wrong with you? Are you truly this needy? You definitely need to call Soonyoung after this and yell at him until you're hoarse.

"Do you want to try now?" Chan asks you, kind eyes focused on you. You really might be the world's worst friend.

"Yeah, sure," you respond, pulling yourself together as best as you can given that you're unravelling at the seams. The weights aren't too heavy. You test them in your hold momentarily before imitating Chan's movements. There's a slight burn in your biceps but, otherwise you feel fine. It feels good, even. The slight burn fueling you.

"That's my girl,"

Oh.

Oh no.

That's all it takes for you to falter. Your mind suddenly completely forgetting the motions for the exercise you watched minutes ago.

"You were doing good just now but, try doing it this way," he says, standing up from where he'd been seated to watch you. His hands correcting your hold on the weights and the positioning of your arms. Every brush of his fingers on your skin leaves electricity in their wake. Fuck. Fuck this is bad. This is so bad.

Trying to remember how to be a normal human being, you nod at his words. Following his guidance and resuming the exercise precisely how he showed you now that your brain is semi-functional again.

"There you go. Good job," perhaps you should be a little more concerned about just how much his praise increases your pulse and worsens the way your panties are already sticking to you, but that's a thought for examining on another day. You can only handle so much right now.

"How about some pull-ups next?"

"Chan, do I strike you as the kind of person even capable of doing a single pull-up?"

"You could learn today,"

When all you respond with is a stone faced expression, he seems to get the message loud and clear, "Okay, fine. I'll do pull-ups and you do squats. How does that sound?"

"Now you're speaking my language,"

On the ever growing list of 'things you're violently unprepared for today', the next to be added is Chan just casually taking off his shirt. That stops you dead in your tracks. Your lips parting as his bare back comes into your line of sight. You thought it was broad before, but now? Seeing it completely bare? Broad feels like too simplistic of a word to describe it.

You knew, logically, that Chan was ripped. You've seen his arms, paying special attention to them more times than you care to admit. All of the guys work out regularly, and most of them mention Chan as one of the more dedicated members of the group when it came to hitting the gym.

You knew all of that, and yet, seeing the evidence a mere few metres in front of your very eyes leaves you speechless and stunned. Chan must notice your blatantly staring because he turns to look at you over his shoulder, "Is everything okay?"

You must struggle to come up with a believable response too long because he both looks and sounds panicked as he continues on, "Shit, did I make you uncomfortable? I should've asked if you were okay with me taking my shirt off. I'm sorry."

His panic must be infectious because you soon find yourself in a similar state, "No, no, Chan, it's okay. You did nothing wrong. I don't mind you being shirtless," quite the opposite actually, and that's the issue, but you decide to keep that bit to yourself.

"Are you sure? I really don't mind putting it back on if it's a problem,"

"Yes, I'm sure. It's really not a big deal,"

He looks unsure briefly but seems to accept your words. Giving you a nod before turning back to face the pull-up bar and begin his routine. You barely register the faint sting in your thighs from how deeply your nails are clawing into them. Eagle eyes drinking in as much as you can of every muscle contraction of his back. Your panties growing uncomfortably wet now as your ears are assaulted with grunts louder than the ones before.

You need to take a cold shower that lasts hours after this. At least you have a good month's worth of masturbation material now, so there's that.

Chan finishes his set far quicker than you would've liked. Sweat drenching his handsome face and droplets running down his jaw, his neck, his collarbones, his pecs until they disappear into the waistband of his shorts. Would it be so horrible to admit that you'd love to see just where those droplets wind up? That you'd happily follow their path with your tongue instead of your eyes?

"Hey, is everything okay?" Chan asks, dropkicking you out of your obscene thoughts.

"Ye-Yeah. Why do you ask?"

"It's just um you haven't really moved, and you've been kind of...staring at me?"

Oh no. Oh god, he noticed. No fucking shit he noticed you've probably been staring at him with all of the subtly of a rhino in a tea shop. Why did you have to make a day meant to be catching up with a friend so fucking weird.

"I-sorry. You're just distracting," is what comes out of your mouth in your blind panic.

"Distracting?" He asks, titling his head, "I'm distracting? Distracting how?"

By being shirtless, with all of the noises you've been making all day, by touching me, by telling me what a good job I've been doing, by just existing in the same space as me - are all of the thoughts that spring up in your mind. All the thoughts you show a great deal of restraint in not word vomiting out at him.

To your absolute mortification, an expression akin to understanding dawns on Chan's face. You've never wanted the Earth to spilt open and swallow you whole more than in this moment.

"Oh, I'm distracting huh?" Chan asks with a grin a touch too arrogant for you, taking a step towards you.

"No! It's not - I'm not - I wasn't - it wasn't like that," you stutter out, growing ever more flustered as a shirtless, sweaty Chan invades your space.

"It wasn't like what exactly?" He asks, mischief shining clear as day in his typically warm eyes.

Before you can consciously think about it, you find yourself stepping backwards. Much to the amusement of the man you're not sure if you want to kiss or throttle in front of you.

You decide to abandon the route you were on and attempt another one, "I'm sorry for staring at you."

"You don't have to apologise," Chan waves you off, "But I do want to know why you were staring,"

It's clear as day to anyone with basic critical thinking skills why you were so laser focused on his stupid back and shoulders. He just wants you to say it. You never took Chan for the humiliation type.

"You know why," you mutter, leaning against the wall that you had no idea you'd even gotten so close to. You suppose your brain is too preoccupied with trying to keep your friendship from going up into flames.

"I don't. You have to tell me," You really want to punch that shit eating grin off of his face. Your adrenaline spiking as he takes another step towards you.

"You're really annoying, you know that?"

"I've heard that once or twice over the years. Still doesn't answer my question though,"

"I think you're attractive, okay?" You finally blurt out. Looking at everything but him in the gym. Studiously focused on one of the treadmills in towards the back, over his shoulder.

"Aw, I'm flattered," he responds, so close to you now that all you'd have to do is reach out, and you'd be touching his bare chest. You have a feeling this isn't going to bode well for you.

"Whatever. You got the answer you wanted. Are you happy now?"

"You know, for being one of the smartest women I know, you're pretty dense," he responds dryly.

"What? Hey!"

"Do you really think I'd react this way to anyone saying they think I'm hot? Do I really have to spell it out for you?"

All you can do is owlishly blink at him. His words washing over you, trying your hardest to digest what he just said to you.

"I think you might have to spell it out for me, yeah," you mutter more breathlessly than you care to admit. It certainly doesn't become any easier to breathe when Chan is fully in your space, crowding you against the gym wall. His scent flooding your system, worsening the wetness between your thighs and muddling your mind even more.

"Is this okay?" He whispers, mere centimetres away from your mouth. His eyes considerably darker than they were minutes ago.

"Yes,"

"May I kiss you?"

"Yes," if anyone asks, you don't sound needy in the slightest when you reply to him.

You quickly learn that Lee Chan, as with many other facets of his life, excels in kissing you until you can think of nothing but, him. Not your mind has been anywhere else for the past few hours to begin with.

Your hands make themselves at home on his shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle there as you pour what feels like centuries worth of yearning into this kiss.

"May I touch you?" He mutters against your mouth and, you wonder why he'd ever stop kissing you to ask such a stupid question.

"Yes, Chan. You can do whatever you want. I don't care," you rush out in response, dragging his mouth back to yours to feed into what is quickly becoming your newest addiction.

With your green light, his hands drift towards your oversized shirt. Smiling against your mouth when you shudder from the brief brushes of his fingertips along your abdomen while he toys with the hem of your shirt.

"I didn't think you'd be one to tease," you say.

"Have you thought about me like this often?" You really had to be so weak for such an insufferable man huh.

You choose to kiss him instead of replying, tugging on his hair in retaliation for the grin you know is on his face. Luckily for you, Chan seems to have had his fill of toying with you for now. Shoving your shirt upwards, pulling away from you briefly to tug it off of you fully.

He just stares at you. Want clear as day in his eyes as he watches your chest rise and fall and how your sports bra outlines your hardened nipples. You find yourself growing a little self-conscious under his heavy gaze. You hadn't picked your outfit with the goal of winding up like this in mind.

"You're staring," you finally find the courage to say, pushing down every instinct to cross your arms over your chest.

"Just returning the favour," he quips back, jumping back into action and acquainting himself with your throat. You can't help the moans and throaty gasps that leave your lips as his kisses and nips at your sensitive skin, exploiting every weak spot he can find. One of his hands reaching down to fondle your breast, running his thumb over your nipple through the fabric of your bra.

All you can manage to do is lean against the wall for stability. Every kiss and lick and squeeze sending lightning down your spine straight to your clit. You wouldn't be surprised if your legging were wet, too, at this point.

"You're so responsive," he whispers against your neck. Given how quietly he said it, you're not sure whether he meant to verbalise that thought or not, but you can't think to respond when he pushes your bra up.

He dots kisses along your breasts. Each press of his lips bringing him closer and closer to one of your nipples before he envelopes one into his warm mouth. He seems intent to wring every noise, every reaction out of you that he possibly can. Teasingly running his teeth along the sensitive bud, smiling when you arch into his touch. His nimble fingers find themselves at the waistband of your leggings. Slipping into them and pulling a particularly loud gasp from you when they come into contact with your more than likely ruined panties.

Your face burns when Chan's expression morphs into one of surprise, his fingers running along your panty covered slit as if to affirm to himself you're really this wet already.

"I didn't realise I had such a strong effect on you," he says against your breast, his voice gravelly, "Fuck, you're already so wet."

A strangled moan is all you can offer when he finds your swollen clit.

"Poor baby. Don't worry, I'll take care of you. Just need to get you out of these," he says, kneeling in front of you and pulling your leggings and panties down. You kick off your shoes impatiently to help ease the process, leaving you almost fully naked.

"I can't believe you're this wet when I haven't even touched you properly," he says, sounding genuinely amazed. Intense gaze focused on your swollen, slick slit. Lifting one of your legs and letting it rest over one of his shoulders.

Anticipation settles in your gut as Chan makes himself comfortable between your thighs. Your hips jolting into him when he experimentally touches you once more, completely bare this time. Your wetness generously coating his thick fingers. Your eyes flutter shut as he shifts closer, goosebumps rising all over your body when his warm breaths hit you.

His first lap of you is messy and passionate. A muffled groan is your only warning before he grips your thigh and all but shoves his face into you. One of your hands fists his hair, not sure if you want him even closer or whether you need a minute from the sensations wreaking your system.

"Ch-Chan ah god," you cry out, your hold on his hair worsening. He doesn't seem to mind all that much, however. Intently focused on grinding your pussy against tongue until you fall into pieces for him.

With his mouth latched onto your clit, he teases your entrance with two of his fingers and you feel faint. His eyes find yours momentarily, looking at you through his hair as he checks for any signs of discomfort or reservations. Watching your face while he slowly sinks his fingers into you. His cock leaking even more when your warm, wet walls squeeze his fingers for dear life. He's so fucked.

The stretch his fingers provide requires some adjusting to, and Chan catches onto that. Focusing his attention back on your clit and providing some distraction while you get used to his fingers.

The wall behind you is proving to be extremely helpful. You're sure you would've crumpled onto the floor by now with the way Chan is determined to devour you whole and his fingers curl inside of you. Embarrassment warming your face as the squelching sounds of your wetness and his fingers moving inside of you hit your ears. Those sounds are accompanied by louder moans and whimpers from you when his fingers strike gold. Finding your weak spot and going for the kill.

He exploits your weaknesses gleefully, assaulting the spot over and over again while he continues his ministrations on your clit. It's no wonder your orgasm doesn't take long to slam into you. Watery cries of his name and jumbled curses echoing throughout the empty gym. You're sure you're hurting him from how fiercely you're gripping his hair. You couldn't remember the last time you'd cum this hard. Sagging against the wall when the most intense parts of it subside.

Chan presses one last kiss to your pussy before easing his fingers out of you. Standing up on unsteady legs, cupping your jaw and slamming his mouth against yours. The taste of yourself on his tongue further fueling the fog clouding your mind. Desperate hands dragging him closer to you, revelling in his closeness and the firmness of his body against your own.

"If I knew you tasted this good, I would've offered to eat you out a long time ago," he says when you shift to litter kisses on his jaw.

"If I knew you did it so well, I would've let you," you respond with an easy smile. However, any humour in your tone dissipates when you register his cock pressing against your thigh. Scorching and heavy even through the material of his shorts. Fuck.

Your mouth finds his once more. Teeth and tongue clashing with one another as he grinds himself against you, groaning into you.

"Chan, please," you whine.

"Hmm? Please, what?" You're not sure if he's genuinely too disoriented to understand what you're asking of him or if he wants you to beg. Either way, you've long since abandoned any semblance of pride.

"Please fuck me,"

His eyes shut briefly, and you watch the way his jaw clenches, "You're going to be the death of me."

If you weren't aching and noticeably empty, you might've giggled at his words. Watching him shove his shorts and underwear down his thick, muscular thighs through lidded eyes. A fresh wave of wetness gushes out of you when his cock springs free. Of course his cock would look mouthwatering too. Of course.

"You really do like to stare, huh?" he muses, stepping closer to you. Hoisting one of your legs over his elbow.

"Sh-Shut up," you stutter, fingernails digging into his biceps as he drags his cock along your pussy. His cock glistening with your arousal in no time.

"That's not nice," he faux pouts, nudging your entrance with his tip. Your knees almost buckle underneath you. A moan bubbling out of just from him toying with you.

"Chan, please. I want it. I want you, please-"

You're promptly cut off when he pushes inside of you. If you thought the stretch provided by his fingers was overwhelming, the girth of cock brings tears to your eyes. Your strained gasps and his restrained groans intertwining.

Is it possible to cum just from being so full? Lee Chan might just help you answer that question. You're not sure you've ever felt so full and stretched out in your entire life. A few stray tears running down your face already.

"Are you okay?" He asks, looking just as wrecked and overwhelmed as you feel. He's practically vibrating from the effort not to move. His cock pulsing inside of you.

"Ye-Yeah. It doesn't hurt. You can move," you respond. It's now or never.

Chan starts off very slowly. Letting you grow accustomed to his girth with every drag of him along your walls. Muttering quiet praises into your neck about how well you're doing, how good you feel, and how you're taking him so well. His words prompting you to clench around him and gush around him.

"Chan, faster, please. You can move faster. It's okay, I can take it," you whine. You feel like you're going to lose your mind if he keeps thrusting so slowly. His consideration is sweet. Really, it is, but it's torturous too. From the way he seems to be restraining himself, you assume the feeling is mutual.

Something snaps in him then. His eyes more feral than they were moments ago as he picks up his pace considerably. The sounds of your wetness and skin slapping against skin mingling with your respective noises of pleasure.

"Taking my cock like such a good girl," he groans into your shoulder, sliding impossibly deeper into you when he angles himself a little differently than before.

Perhaps he's noticed the way his praise impacts you. His filthy mouth not stopping.

"Look, baby," he mutters lowly into your ear, "I want you to look at how well your pussy takes me,"

You can't find it in you to disobey. Chasing the high of being his good girl. So, you glance downwards. Your cheeks heating up as you watch him fuck into you and the way you're being split open by him. You never thought the sight of yourself being fucked would garner such a strong reaction from you but, you've been learning quite a bit about yourself today.

"It's hot, isn't it?" He asks, a moan falling from his lips when you tighten around him, "So hot watching me fuck this pretty pussy of yours."

You've never cum just from penetration but, Chan is proving himself to be head and shoulders above every other man you've slept with. You're completely and utterly caught off guard when you cum for a second time and, Chan seems to be too. Startled, wide eyes watching you shatter in front and around him for a second time. Ever the caring gentleman as he soothes and fucks you through it.

You're barely coherent when Chan's pitchy moans of your name register to your mind and you feel his warm, thick cum flood your awaiting pussy. His hips weakly twitching into yours with ever spurt of his cum inside of you.

Honestly, it's a wonder both of you are still standing. Barely, but you're standing. Leaning into each other and the trusty wall for support as you come back to yourselves.

"If working out with you always ends up like this, we should work out together more often," he says, kissing your neck and shoulder lazily.

You really just had to fall for one of the most eye roll inducing men you've ever met, huh.

#lee chan smut #dino smut #seventeen smut #seventeen dino smut #dino seventeen smut #chan smut #chan seventeen smut #seventeen chan smut #1k followers celebration day 6 #1k followers celebration #1k followers milestone

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buckys-little-belle · 4 months

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Chapter Three - Raindrops and Goodbyes

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SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and this blog, SFW.

Warnings - Talks about past (bad) Caregivers, talks about fear of abandonment, some heavy negative feelings, comparing oneself to others, fluff but ends in some angst, Bub eats, food mentioned, Bub cries

Word Count - 1751

Note - Sorry this took so long to get out! Things got hectic, and crappy, and I haven't been able to edit, or format, or really write lately! Luckily things are going well and I won't start school till the 16th so I'm hoping to get some stuff out in the next week or so! Part four will be posted tomorrow! I can't leave us on a sad note for too long! I just can't!!

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Y/n always hated wearing her yellow raincoat, the material feeling odd against her skin, and the crinkle of the fabric was never music to her ears. But on days like this, grey skies and heavy raindrops falling to the ground, she had no choice but to suit up. Her matching rain boots on, allowing her to splash in any puddle she felt needed to be played in.

As she neared the Cafe she got excited, Bucky said they would go to the park today, and although it’s running she has hopes that he’ll let them go anyways, her umbrella overhead creating enough of a dry patch to maybe, at the least, run around in the mud without catching a nasty cold.

“Mr!” She cheered as she walked in, something she did every time she saw him sat at his usual table, early as always. “I has something for you!” She smiled big as she unzipped the front pocket of her backpack “Here.” Her smile grew as Bucky’s mirrored hers, the small baggie with flowers printed on it full of chocolate chip cookies her pride and joy.

“You made these?”

“Yes!” Y/n says still standing, ready to leave for the park wherever Bucky is ready. Shifting her weight from one foot to another, growing impatient. “All on my own!” She cheered, proud of her baked goods. “Park now?” Bub asked, her smile still huge, both hands grasping the straps of her bag, now back on her back.

“It’s raining, Bub.” Bucky frowned, causing Bub to mirror his expression. “But we’ll go next time, okay?” He asked, his hands immediately helping Y/n out of her raincoat, the buttons soon undone.

“But you promised?” Y/n frowned, her eyebrows drawn together in confusion. “I wanted to go to d’park.” Y/n held back her tears, though she wished to stomp her foot and throw a small fit, she didn’t know Bucky well enough to truly let him see her little side completely. So instead she fixed her clothing after her coat had been taken off and sat in her usual seat.

“I know I promised, Bub.” She smiled at the nickname. “But I brought us a fun game to play today.” He was quickly making her forget about the park trip altogether, now excited to see whatever game he had brought. She hoped it wasn’t UNO, she sucked at that. “Here.” He said as he placed a game on the table, the pink and blue of Candyland making Y/n let out a small squeal.

“I love Candyland!” She grabbed the box and bounced in her seat. “Can we play now?” She asked, her eyes turning to Bucky, him already looking at her. “Please?” She added on for good measure.

The moment he nodded his head she opened the box, pulling all the pieces out. “Why don’t you set it up, and I get us some snacks?” Bucky asked, Y/n didn’t even look up at him, but nodded her head. Too busy pulling out the different characters.

Y/n didn’t know how long it took Bucky to get snacks, but by the time he got back to the table she had created a whole plot amongst the characters and their kingdoms. “Here, Bub.” Bucky said as he placed a plate on the table. It was more than the usual cake pop he got her, though one still sat on the plate. This time he got vegetables and dip, some goldfish, and a cup of juice.

“Thank you, Mr.” Y/n smiled up at him, grabbing a celery stick and dipping it. “Can I be the ice cream cone?” She asked, showing him the character she had in her hand. Bucky nodded but stayed sitting. “You need’a pick a lil guy.” She pointed to the characters situated around the board.

“Right.” He said, his expression growing serious as he looked each one over. “I’ll pick this one, he looks tough.” Y/n broke out into a fit of giggles, the marshmallow definitely not a ‘tough guy’.

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They got to playing the game, Y/n winning two times in a row. She wasn’t surprised, while she knew it was all down to luck, she had played the game a ton of times so clearly the Candyland gods liked her more than Bucky. “Are you cold bub?” Bucky asked her, making her realise she was shivering slightly.

She knew not bringing a sweater might be a bad idea, but she thought they were going to the park. “Um, yeah.” She nodded then shrugged her shoulders. She hoped he wouldn’t make her go back home and get one, she only had so much time in a day to spend at the cafe. “Bu’ I’m all good, can we play again?” She asked, moving their pieces back to the star.

“Yeah we can play again, just wait a second.” Bucky stood up, she wondered where he was going, but instead of leaving to grab something or go to the bathroom he stood at the side of her booth with a black sweater in hand. “Hands up, Bub.” He said, holding the sweater out.

“I don’ need your sweater, wha’ if yous get cold?” She asked, not sure if her being so comfortable around Bucky her little side couldn’t help but come out now was a good thing or a bad thing. While she was 100% sure Bucky was a safe guy to be around, she didn’t want to get too attached to him just in case.

“I won’t get cold.” He answered in a softer voice. She knew he was special, that’s what everyone in the newspapers said, that he’s indestructible. But she’d hate to be the person who gave a super soldier a cold because she took his sweater. “Bub.” His voice drew her out of her worrying. He was now crouched down so they were eye level. “I won’t get cold, but you’re shivering.” He didn’t wait for her to put her arms up, instead just putting it over her head and waiting for her to put her arms through on her own.

“Tanks.” Bub murmured, looking at Bucky with a small smile. She was thankful for the sweater, now warm, but she still worried that she was too much to handle. He had given her a lot, crayons, colouring pages, so much of his time, and now his sweater. She hadn’t given him anything but cookies that she hoped tasted okay.

“Why don’t we play again?” Bucky asked as he settled back into his seat. “I can feel it, I’m going to win this one.” He teased, she shook her head, he had no clue that the Candyland gods were on her side, and she hoped he would never know.

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Y/n frowned as she saw Bucky pacing around outside. It had stopped raining but he said that they should wait till a sunny day to go out, because ‘everything would be slippery’. Buck’s phone had rung five hours ago, well maybe two minutes ago, but it felt like forever as she just watched him pace with an unhappy look on his face.

She grabbed the last few goldfish and got back to her colouring, when she had won for a third time Bucky had to quit, saying his ego couldn’t handle anymore. Y/n giggled at the memory.

The doorbell rang out and she quickly turned, though her smile turned back into a frown when she saw Bucky’s sad expression. “I’m sorry, I have to go, Bub.” He said, his sad words said in a kind tone.

“Oh, otay.” Y/n answered, watching him pack up his things. “Will you be back tomorrow?” She asked, her crayons laid on the table instead of in her hands.

Bucky sighed, then sat down, his hands clasped on the table. “I’m going to be gone until next wednesday.” Y/n’s back straightened up, he’d be gone for nine days. That was a lot of time to be gone, and a lot of time for him to think and change his mind about her.

“Oh, do you, do you wan’ your sweater back?” She asked, wiggling her hands out of the sleeves before Bucky got to her. His hands covering hers, a painful smile on his face.

“You can keep it, I’ll get it back when I come back okay?” Y/n nodded. “I’ll put my phone number in your phone, and I’ll text you if I’m going to be back later than wednesday, okay?” She nodded her head, at least he wasn’t just up and leaving, he was giving her a point of contact if needed. She handed him her phone, watching as he took forever to type out his name and number. It was a little silly to watch. “I won’t be able to text or call you while I’m away.” He admitted. “But you can text me all you want and I’ll read them when I’m back.” Bucky offered, though she knew she wouldn’t do that, she wouldn’t bother him while he was away, she knew people hated that.

She just nodded her head, watching him as he put his coat and backpack on. “Stay safe.” She whispered as he stood in front of her, ready to leave.

“And you be good, Bub.” Bucky whispered back, and then he was gone. She watched him get into his jeep and drive away. She knew her mind was being silly when she couldn’t help but think he wouldn’t come back, but it didn’t mean it stopped that train of thought.

She knew deep down that he had to leave, he didn’t want to, but he had to. She knew he wasn’t like the other people who became her friends and then left and never came back, she knew that, somewhere in her mind she knew that. But she still couldn’t help it as a few tears slipped down her cheeks as she cleaned up. She couldn’t help but let out a small sad noise as she put on her coat, and she couldn’t help but sob the moment she got home and into bed.

“He had to go save people, he was needed by the world because he's a good guy, that’s why he left.” She whispered to herself all night, but she still felt as though he had left because of something she did.

#buckys little belle #age regression fic #age regression #little!reader #bucky x reader #bucky x little!reader #bucky barnes x little!reader #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #little reader #little fic #cafe bignsmall #bignsmall

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factual-fantasy · 8 months

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27 asks/walls of text where I ramble about FNAF <XDD

@ninaandthegames

AAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! 😭😭💗💗

@taizarack

Actually I have 2 swap AUs. A true swap and a partial swap. In the partial swap, only Chica and Freddy switch places with Foxy and Bonnie respectively. The rest of the characters and world are slightly altered because of this change, but otherwise the story continues as normal. With Gregory coming to the Pizzaplex and the overall back story of the AU remaining the same.

Meanwhile in the true swap, which I haven't drawn yet.. everyone is paired with someone and swaps places with them. Freddy and Bonnie swap, Chica and Foxy swap, Roxy and Monty swap, even DJ and DA swap. And most importantly, Gregory and Vanessa swap. Which means that everyone's role and design are completely swapped.

And this means that Gregory is the adult sus security guard, and Vanessa is the scared little child living in the basement.. 👀👀

@jackal-lantern

I'm glad you like my Octonauts and submas stuff! :DD I was actually just thinking about Ingo and Emmet funnily enough XD I've been considering finally committing and playing Legends: Arceus, so that I can learn more about that world and Ingo. Also so that I could come back with more knowledge about the twins and make a proper AU :00

@ash-attxck

Thank you for asking first! And as long as it isn't directly taking my idea, then yeah that sounds fine to me! :}}

That would be cool yeah! :0

@toaster-os

To be completely honest, the multiple arms thing is mostly just a running joke <XD

But also magically growing a 3rd arm when ever I need it is very convenient XDD

@voids-call

That's a good question, hmm.. Well, I guess I'll go in order.

Gregory's fears cant really be revealed for lore reasons, but Freddy's can. Freddy has a lot of fear surrounding Gregory. He fears for Gregory's safety, his health.. but most of all, he's afraid of the others finding about about Gregory. If the others found out about him, surly they'd call security, right? If that happens Gregory would be taken away by Vanessa. Which would destroy Freddy..

Now Chica, Roxy, Monty, Foxy and Bonnie don't.. really have a #1 biggest fear that I can point out exactly.. or at least I cant think of any atm..

But DJMM? He doesn't have a biggest fear per se, but he is worried sick about the Daycare attendant. He hasn't seen him in months by this point. And no one has really told him anything straight. He has no idea why he's been gone for so long and if he's okay or not.. :(

And DA's biggest fear is definitely being caught in the dark. He knows very well that something is wrong with him and that he doesn't act like himself when in his moon mode. So he is terrified of the dark and does everything in his power to avoid it..

@andysalleyway

I do know of monster high actually! :00 I think its pretty neat, I've seen a lot of dolls being customized by Dollightful on YouTube. I highly recommend her! (Totally not a Dollightful advertisement XDDD)

(Post in question)

Thank you so much! :DD I'm a bit late to respond to this ask <XD But I'm all better now. My cold is gone and my leg healed up nicely :}}

And the cones name is Cody! :D

@burningmusicfunnygiant (Post in question)

Monty and Roxy do look different in this AU, although they still run the Golf course and Raceway respectively.

As for the bots meeting their other selves.. I image swap Monty would be rather surprised by his counter parts severe temper. OG Monty is so crushed by grief and shame that he's just constantly angry and lashing out. Also because of his shame he has closed himself off all these years which has only made his anger worse..

In the swap AU, Foxy was there for Monty. They became best friends and really helped each other through the grief and pain. Foxy helped Monty with his anger and in present day he's a really mellow person. Just sore with grief but not angry.

Meeting the others as well, OG Bonnie would be surprised by how.. mean his swapped form is.

Swapped Bonnie comes off as a real jerk. If you try to talk to him he'll either just stand there with a vacant stare and refuse to look at or talk to you. Or he'll be short and rude with you and just overall have a vibe that says "I don't want to talk to you, leave me alone". After every performance he just sneaks off to his room and stays there all night. If anyone tries to talk to him about coming out of his room more often or engaging with the group, he just snaps back. Telling them to leave him alone. His and Foxy's friendship has greatly suffered in this AU..

OG Bonnie would be floored by this version of himself. Bonnie would never speak to his friends like that. He would never brush them off if they were standing outside his door in tears. Begging to just talk to him. He couldn't believe the way his other self was acting..

But the thing is, Swapped Bonnie is just under an extreme amount of stress and pressure. He is an Animatronic that was designed only for smaller groups and a more quiet environment. He is a naturally slow animatronic and has a really relaxed personality. The only times he would be put on stage in front of a big crowd is every few weeks or so when the band would do a big performance together. Then right after it was back to the slow and relaxed bowling ally..

But after Freddy's accident, he was put on stage in Freddy's place. Bonnie is now on stage every day. Huge crowds, lights, noise, constantly on the move, go go go, noise noise noise- Bonnie come do this- Bonnie take this picture- Bonnie sing these 3 songs- Bonnie move that- Bonnie come over here- Bonnie sing happy birthday- Bonnie its time for another performance- Like-- it never ends!!

So whenever Bonnie has the time, he just completely shuts down. If he has a 5 minute break to just stand here? He's going to stand completely still and not do or say anything. If he gets to go to his room, he's going to turn off the lights and sit in complete silence for as long as he can. Any time anyone tries to talk to him he just pushes them away. The last thing he wants to do in his free time is more talking, more processing, more movement. He just wants to be where its dark and quiet..

Swap Bonnie is being pushed to his absolute processing limit, every. single. day. If you were constantly being overwhelmed and pushed beyond your limit every single day, for years? Well you'd probably be a grump and just wants some peace and quiet too..

I could go on with the others, but these paragraphs are already super long- <XD Maybe in another ask if anyone is interested!

@random-entity-363

In the OG au and the Partial swap AU, Sun and Moon are the same person. There are no separate animatronics or separate personalities. The "bug" just only really seems to effect DA when he's in his moon costume. And in the Partial swap, no it doesn't effect his Sunny side..

Although in the true swap? It might actually switch and effect his sunny side instead.. 👀👀

Foxy! :}}

@pinkbomb08

I have fully recovered from my cold, thank you! :} And you got it right! Foxy is Gregory's favorite character and he takes Freddy's role in protecting him :}}

@mr-damian-s-power

:DD Thank you so much!! I would like to come back sometime and do a deeper dive into the Wario bros. I had so many ideas for them that I never got around to.. <:/

@k-art8901

Bibi is a boy! :}

Aw, comparing yourself to people you perceive as better isn't going to help you feel better.. <:( Just keep trudging on with your own work and you'll improve over time. I believe in you! :}}

@joeyjambo122

Oh yeah, I've seen Bluey alllll over the place XD It seems like a really wholesome show! I've seen a lot of clips and art of it, although I haven't really gotten into it or watched it myself. My go to pre-school type show is Octonauts <XD

Maybe someday! :}}

:DD Thank you so much! Maybe I'll come back around to it sometime! :}}

@ur0neand0nly

0___o; Well uhh... so here's the thing about Paani. No offence to anyone who likes him, but personally? I reeeeeaaaaalllly don't like Paani. :x

The first episode just gave me a really sour taste in my mouth. And I just haven't been able to like him since 😅

I have intentions to add him to my Octonauts stuff in the future. But what I plan to do is re-write/make an AU about above and beyond which involves uh.. removing everything I don't like about it.. Including Paani. :x

I mean he'll still in it!-- But my AU will completely rewrite his character and remove all the things that people criticize him for. He will basically be Paani 2.0, and will be a completely different character... I feel bad for wiping his personality clean off my AU, but maaaaan I just cant like Paani, sorry! 😭😭

@hexyz09

I might not be understanding the question here, so my apologies-

My Gregory and canon Gregory are very different characters for a few reasons. For one, I completely rewrote the events of the game so they did not experience the same things while at the Pizzaplex.

I also made up a backstory for my Gregory that justifies him being more shy and skittish then canon Gregory seems to be.

I also didn't like how evil/gremlin-ly Gregory is in canon/fanon. So I thought screw it, I don't like canon/fanon Gregory being a lil turd, so I'm just going to make my own Gregory that acts the way I want him to <XD

@flowers-on-my-eyes

XD Aw, that's a nice idea. But poor Bonnie might be embarrassed to have a hook put on his stubby arm. It might just make him look tacky and draw more attention to it. Poor Foxy might have to keep his hook for now :x

You know, Bonnie likely did have a few custom bowling balls made just for him. But who knows where they are now.. Rockstar row? Somewhere in the bowling ally? In a box in the basement somewhere? They may never know.. :(

@euanpc

Aww!! That's so cute! Wet floor cone buddy for the win!!! 💗💗

Thank you! 😎😎😎

#my response #fnaf security breach #fnaf security breach dlc #octonauts #octonauts above and beyond

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onesapphireeye · 1 year

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just a word

You and Aemond had grown apart over the past few years. But, when he finally rid himself of the shackles of his on again off again relationship with Alys, he shows up at your apartment.

modern!aemond x reader. modern!aemond x alys rivers. warnings: sex at the end. annoying, probably unreliable reader. not for minors. p in v sex. use of she/her for reader.

nori says: this is something no one asked for. i just needed to get this out of my head. lots of backstory? idk it's probably terrible. please be gentle, as i haven't written anything in so long. i'd love feedback! also send me ideas if you want to! xoxo.

word count: 4,752

Your parents, both renowned politicians, attempted to make you feel as though you were a child of the greatest value. It didn't help that the whole world appeared to be enchanted by you; and you, a cherubic faced little demon, were not afraid of using the power of your charm.

You could easily call out the names of people at school and expect them to come running, but the luxurious adoration grew boring and made you crave something more than simple admiration.

You remember meeting Aemond Targaryen in middle school. Everyone steered clear of him, but you were drawn in. Despite hearing stories of his temper, and how quick he was to throw a punch, you worked up the courage to approach him. Surprisingly, he had been welcoming of your advances. He smiled and spoke in a gentle voice, and you felt like you had known him forever.

Soon enough, he became a regular guest at your house, where the two of you would sit and talk about literature and history. He said he envied you in a way—you were an unusual child who was often in the thoughts of those around her, while he never quite fit in anywhere.

You told him that he belonged to with you.

Aemond seemed to come alive during those conversations, talking endlessly of the history of old Valyria, and his enthusiasm was contagious. The more time you spent discussing that ancient culture, the closer the two of you became, and he opened up to you in a way he said he had rarely done with anyone else.

He spoke of his family and his feelings—his loneliness and his anger—and his search for identity and purpose. Those moments were like a window into his soul, and you felt honored to be in the presence of someone so complex. He was the perfect mix of boy, man and monster.

You felt as if you could truly relate to him, and you had never felt so understood.

As the years passed, Aemond became your closest friend and ally in mischief. Everywhere you went, you were inseparable.

Yet, when the two of you entered high school, you suddenly felt out of place; you were a late bloomer who had gone from wanting to be different to being treated like you were.

Any pubescent confidence you had was gone, replaced by feeling small and insignificant, while Aemond was already transforming into an adult.

Despite your differences, there was an unspoken connection between the two of you, and you silently vowed to be best friends forever.

It was only once he began dating popular Alys Rivers in your senior year that you comprehended the permanence of 'forever'.

Despite your own awkwardness and insecurity, it was easy to see why she liked him. At seventeen, when you still looked like the underside side of a foot (thanks Aegon), Aemond had grown into an ethereal creature, almost magical in his beauty. Some sort of elf like thing from those fanfiction smuts you read online at night beneath the covers.

As you watched Aemond and Alys grow closer, you couldn't help but feel a deep pang of sadness in your chest. Seeing them together was a stark reminder of everything you had shared with him before she came into the picture.

When you did manage to hang out, there was a tension that hadn't been there before. The relationship had changed him - he was different than he used to be; more mature, more sophisticated, more aloof and distant.

And his hugs goodbye started to linger on. He would whisper something softly in your ear when he would embrace you, but not look back once he was out your front door. You were left to guess what his true intentions were.

It felt like maybe you were two steps away from being in a relationship of your own with Aemond, but the fear of being wrong kept holding you back from taking the plunge.

You wondered what it would be like if you came clean and told him how you felt, but didn't like the risk of getting your heart broken if he wasn't interested in being more than friends.

You had to watch from the sidelines as he poured all of his energy into Alys in a way that had even his mom giving him sidelong glances and unsolicited advice; telling him not to spend too much time focused on her instead of himself or his future goals.

And then one day it happened - things changed between the two of you again.

After a tense discussion about which college you would both attend, he'd blown up at you for saying you wanted to run as far away from King's Landing as possible.

There was an exchange of harsh words and hurtful remarks. He told you it was time to grow up, to face your fears head on and that things between you couldn't stay the same forever.

He didn't want to keep dwelling in the darkness; he wanted to be his own person, not defined by his anger.

He wanted you to change with him and you had told him no. You told him no longer believed in forever anyway.

It felt like you were having two different conversations, but misunderstanding both.

You wanted to be you and Aemond; not you, Aemond and Alys. He'd given you a strange look then, and stormed off angrily.

By the end of that school year, you almost couldn't bear to hear either of their names. He gave off the impression of being happy and content with Alys and it made you feel even more invisible.

The wilder elements of your nature urged you to claw your way through Alys' skin. You yearned to become her, believing it would raise your self-esteem. The thought of imitating her style and mannerisms crossed your mind, only to be instantly dismissed as foolish. All that you really wanted was for Aemond to speak to you like a true friend and not like just someone who wasn't her.

There was no way to win, so you decided that your friendship meant as much to you as it did him.

Not shit.

After graduation, you distanced yourself and went ahead with your plan to pick a university as far away as possible from his (and Alys') choice of Drangonstone: White Harbor U.

Living without Aemond was difficult. Not more difficult than it had ever been, but with that sickly sweet feeling of codependency gone, you felt scared. You had never been your own person before, but you were determined to try now.

You found that the city was teeming with people who had something to offer, but you couldn't make a lasting connection. The men you dated never stuck around, leaving you feeling more and more alone.

Eventually, you settled with Dalton Greyjoy, an art major who made side money by selling prints of stormy coastlines and mermaids in the harbor. Dalton was everything Aemond use to be; wild and unpredictable, like the sea he so often painted.

Dalton made it easier for you to open up about yourself. He saw that a spark of fire simmering just beneath your surface. With him, it felt okay to be vulnerable; he listened without judgement or condescension whenever you told him about your struggles with self-esteem or shared stories from your past.

A hint of distance kept things from going too deep between you two. You could tell he liked being around you but it never seemed like enough for him to commit fully or even discuss anything serious beyond weekend plans or art exhibitions happening in town.

It wasn't until months later that he finally admitted he wasn't ready for more than what you already had – a friendship with physical perks.

Leaving Dalton was easier than you wanted to admit... but something lingered in the back of your mind: an ever-present reminder that no matter how close someone is willing to get to you they still may not be able stay by your side forever.

With college finished and the anxiety of the future looming, you realized that you didn't have the funds to keep going.

You had girl-bossed your way into exhaustion and credit card debt. Your father wanted to take the situation into his own hands, but that meant you would be indebted to him. He'd been suggesting marriage for a while now and had dropped several names of eligible partners. You'd attempted to brush it off, but you knew he disliked Dalton and he didn't have much faith in your romantic decisions.

Politically, he needed you to attach yourself to someone who wouldn't cause any scandal. Rather than hawking yourself like a prized horse, you cleverly conned him into providing you with a job that utilized your freshly-obtained degree.

Your parents had split up shortly after you graduated high school, but they both made a strong attempt to coax you into choosing one side to live with.

It didn't matter to you that rent would eat up most of your paycheck. Returning home felt like a never-ending loop; like your life was repeating itself, constricting all your freedom.

You desperately needed some kind of liberation.

Three days into living off of salads in a dimly lit room, you heard a knock on the door. You almost decided to pretend you weren't home, but then remembered you had ordered some things online to help cure your depression and thought that it might be your packages.

To your annoyance, it wasn't the courier, but Aemond.

He was standing in front of you with takeout from the local Yi-ti place and a bottle of Dornish red. As completely unexpected as his presence was, it didn't take a genius to figure out who must have given him your address. You definitely hadn't, in fact you hadn't even told him you were moving back.

'Aegon' you thought, 'you fucking prick.'

Yesterday, Helaena and the older Targaryen boy had helped you move in what meager furniture you had; and you knew Helaena would never have given you up.

Aemond, for his part seemed content to ignore your discomfort, his broad smile contrasting against his bright blue eyes.

You narrowed your gaze, glaring up at him as you queried, "Are you stalking me?"

"I was in the neighborhood and wanted to see how a junior press secretary lives." He replied, flashing a self-assured smirk that sent shivers through

you. You could tell he was joking but your frown only deepened. You were going to kill Aegon.

"Poorly." You gripped the door handle. "Now that you've blessed us mere mortals with your judgement, you may leave." You tried to close the door but he uttered your name in a pleading whine.

"I lied, I just needed to see you. Please." You found it difficult to stand your ground against him, even after all the time that had passed. You clenched your jaw before letting him in. He cast a brief look around your small living space, and your anger mounted.

You kicked the door close and spoke, "I've been eating in my bed and no I don't have two glasses." You directed him to the bedroom and gestured for him to sit down.

He slipped off his shoes, and you stopped yourself from examining their size. You couldn't let your mind go there. "You better have ordered the Jade Emperor chicken."

He laughed, taking out the Styrofoam containers from the brown paper bags. "I almost didn't, but you know I know what you like." You watched his hands as he opened up the containers and began to set them up on your bedspread.

You settled beside him and began to eat, savoring all bites of the delicious dish. Take out was a luxury that you weren't quite ready to allow your dad to set up blind dates for.

You didn't see the amusement in Aemond's eyes as you moaned in pleasure between bites. "This is why I love Yi-Ti," you said after you swallowed another satisfying mouthful of chicken.

He nodded in agreeance knowing his plan was working; despite everything, it was nice to have someone to share a meal with.

The wine helped you two to fall into the easy way things use to be.

Aemond started talking about how he was working at the family company and some of his recent projects. You listened intently, nodding as he spoke, occasionally making an interesting comment or two when asked for input. When he was done recounting all of his work adventures, he turned his attention back to you.

"So what are your plans now that you're back in Kings Landing?" he asked with genuine interest. You sat down your chopsticks before wiping your mouth with a napkin and then responded slowly.

"Now that I have this degree, I'm hoping to make something out of it...eventually." You paused for a moment, looking away from Aemond and out the window which revealed an empty street below your apartment building. "I guess I'm just trying to figure out where I belong."

He looked down at the floor. You didn't let the silence stretch too long and updated him on your parents. Your dad has just started dating some woman that was closer to your age than his. Aemond knew something about that.

"Yeah," he commiserated, "my dads still a dick too."

You chuckled dryly before taking another sip of wine and falling into a comfortable silence as you both thought about all of the things in life that weren't going as planned.

Once dinner had ended, Aemond asked if he could stick around a little longer, and you couldn't believe how swiftly you'd agreed. You reasoned that it must be because you didn't want to act disrespectful, given your past friendship with the person who had just brought dinner over to you.

You both moved to settle against the headboard and continued your light chatting.

You worked up the courage to ask about Alys. He surprised you when he said that he had broken up with her for good this time. She had started pressuring him about marriage, but she wasn't the one he saw himself being with forever. You had scoffed at the word, but let him finish talking.

"I realized that she was like a band-aid, she helped my anger but my wounds underneath were festering." He looked at the wall opposite of you, "that's how I felt with her, like large parts of me had putrefied off. I woke up and I missed those parts."

His voice was hollow and desperate, and he paused as you tried to clear the lump that had formed in your throat. You being the parts of him that were missing was left largely unsaid. "So when Aegon let it slip that you'd come back... I had to see you with my own eyes."

You waited a bit, to find the right words, but nothing was poetic enough. "I missed you too. You don't deserve it, but I missed you so fucking much, Aemond." Your breath was coming out in shallow gasps as the air seemed to thicken between the two of you. You were both so close, your lips barely an inch from each other, and it felt like time had stopped. "You need to apologize to me."

"I'm so sorry." He began immediately, "You don't know how much I've hated myself for ending our friendship." He was looking straight into your eyes, all trace of bravado gone.

You wanted to be mad at him. This was supposed to be a person from your past you had gotten over. But the truth was, you knew you still loved him.

For a moment, neither of you moved or spoke. Then, almost simultaneously, you both leaned in slightly and your lips brushed against each other for the first time. The kiss was tender and filled with longing and regret – all the things that had been left unsaid between you two for so long.

Your hands reached up to intertwine in his hair as he kissed you more deeply, exploring your mouth like it was something precious he'd been searching for all along. You felt him wrap one arm around your waist while the other ran down your back softly before gripping onto your ass. Aemond pressed against the curves of your body as if trying to meld himself into you completely. You could feel his heart beating fast just beneath his skin.

The kiss slowly faded into soft pecks until finally it ended with one final gentle nip on the corner of your mouth before he pulled away to give you a look asking for permission to go further. You nodded your head.

It was then that Aemond let out a quiet moan, he reached behind him to pull off his shirt in one fluid motion before quickly removing off the rest of his clothes.

You could feel your face flush as you followed suit, shedding your own clothing until the two of you were sitting there naked in front of one another. The only sounds were your labored breath and the beating of your hearts as they surged with adrenaline from what was about to come next.

Aemond leaned forward, bringing himself closer to you as he cupped your face tenderly with one hand while using the other to brush against your exposed skin softly. His touch felt like electricity running through your veins and it caused an involuntary shudder run through you body in response.

All of your previous anger dissipated.

His eyes were full of need and desire as he pulled you to the edge of the bed effortlessly. Spreading your knees apart, he knelt before you. It was your turn to smirk. He looked like he belonged there.

"Finally humbled before me, huh?" In response, he tugged on the back of your legs, which prompted a yelp of surprise and a burst of laughter.

His hands explored your lower body with a slow intensity that had your heart racing and your skin tingling with pleasure. His mouth left trails of kisses across your belly and thighs. He found all of your most sensitive spots, caressing them with a gentle care that had you gasping for air.

Years of fingering yourself, pretending it was him touching you had finally come to this. Through the haze of lust, you realized that you must have said that out loud because he hummed into your skin.

Kissing the inside of your thigh, he looked up at you. "I was obsessed with the idea of you masturbating. Imagining how you touched yourself, imagining what turns you on."

"When we were younger?" Your eyes were wide.

He shook his head, confessing. "Then and now. I jacked off to the thought of you yesterday." You were taken aback by his admission, but you couldn't help but feel flattered that he'd been fantasizing about you for so long.

Finally, when you thought you could stand no more, his tongue darted out to send shockwaves through your system as it circled around and then dipped inside your already wet pussy. Your mind blanked out at the sensations coursing through you. You felt like flying into pieces just from this one act alone.

He buried his face deep between your legs, while murmuring words of adoration in between each delicious lick of his tongue. Every movement sent orgasmic ripples down your spine until, it hit its climax and all that was left was to bask in its aftermath: complete and utter euphoria.

When he decided you were ready, Aemond reached over to his pants and pulled a condom out of his wallet. Your jealousy was glad he had at least been practicing safe sex with Alys.

To avoid going to a dark place, you said the first thing that came to mind. "Of course your penis would be pretty." It was thick and pink, with just a slight curve to the right that had you expecting good things. A bead of precum leaked out of the tip and you subconsciously licked your lips. You wanted to taste it.

He laughed at you, shaking his head, as he rolled the rubber on. "You think so?"

You didn't trust yourself to speak so you just nodded. With a smirk, he pushed your shoulder lightly, so that you fell back against the bed again and positioned himself so his cock was against your clit. He entered slowly, letting out a moan of pleasure as he filled you up completely.

You dug your nails into his back with each thrust, wanting him deeper and harder each time. His hands were again all over your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. He felt like absolute bliss inside of you and it was making your entire body quiver with pleasure in anticipation for what was to come next.

Just when you felt your climax hitting, Aemond’s hips began to cant back and forth in a lazy rhythm. You barely registered that he was fucking with you. You made mewls of protest as he grinded into your pussy.

He wanted you to feel as frustrated as he had felt all these years trying not to chase after your shadow. He chuckled, the low rumble vibrating against your skin. "I've waited so long for this and I'm not going to rush it." Your head felt dizzy.

"P-please, Aemond, please, can I cum? We can go again." You begged between moans.

Aemond seemed to take pity on you, his fingers dug gently into your waist and he kissed your neck softly as he started to thrust fast again. You gasped in pleasure as you felt the delightful sensation of him inside you as his movements increased in depth and intensity.

He was relentless in his pace; each thrust pushing you closer and closer to the edge until finally he whispered into your ear “Tell me what you need, baby."

One hand moved up to cradle your face while his other caressed down the length of your body. Your skin burned wherever he touched and when his thumb moved to caress circles around your clit you couldn't contain a loud moan that escaped from your lips, "More, Aemond please!"

He grinned down at you "Say it like you mean it, Baby." He commanded before increasing the pressure with each stroke of his thumb on your sensitive bundle of nerves until finally the pressure became too much for you to take.

With a shuddering cry, you threw back your head and shouted out his name as waves upon waves of pleasure cascaded through every inch of your body, leaving no part untouched in its wake.

He thrust twice more, his mouth slanting over yours in something that was more teeth clashing than a kiss, and stilled. As your breathing slowed down, Aemond collapsed on top of you, exhausted and satisfied.

"Aemonddd," you whined, weakly trying to push his heavy body off and you heard him laugh again. He moved to lay beside you and and held you close. You nuzzled into his chest and felt the warmth of contentment.

You lay there together for a while afterwards, feeling sated yet blissfully relaxed all at once. He kissed your forehead, cock long having gone soft.

"Let me go get something to clean you up with." You didn't want him to get up, but you were too tired to stop him.

After Aemond went to the bathroom, his phone started ringing from somewhere on the floor. You shuffled to hang off the edge of the bed to look at it. You didn’t want to invade his privacy, but the screen was face up. What if it was important?

A small voice in the back of your head reminded you that you didn’t know enough about his current life to discern whether this call could be an emergency… but you looked anyway and your heart sank. That same small voice laughed bitterly ‘and that’s what you get, you dumbass.'

It was Alys.

You watched the phone vibrate until it stopped ringing. Not two seconds later, a ding signaled that a text message had been delivered.

[INCOMING] “Great seeing you last night, Aem. Sorry I had to rush off but I’ll take that raincheck tonight. Xoxo.”

Your stomach twisted with nausea as realization sunk in—you were just a second choice, the back-up plan for when Alys was too busy. He’d ended up at your door, because he was bored. Or whatever. The schematics didn’t matter.

Anger flooded through you and tears stung your eyes as the voice in your head laughed bitterly at your foolishness. He could never look at you the way he looked at her.

You heard the water shut off from the bathroom and quickly scrambled back to the head of your bed, propping yourself up against the headboard. You mustered up your best lopsided grin for Aemond, trying hard to feign indifference as he entered the room with a towel slung over his shoulder.

He gave you a wink in return and then turned his attention to his phone, picking it up off the ground, he sent out a flurry of messages with a smug look on his face. You scowled when he smiled at the screen, feeling foolish for expecting more than he was capable of giving.

"Texting your ex-girlfriend back?" You allowed the bubbling anger to seep out, feeling completely and utterly played. You sounded every bit of an asshole you thought he was.

Aemond tossed the phone down and looked at you in confusion, all traces of happiness gone. You didn't like how his eyes made you feel anymore, and his silence felt like a confession.

“Wow, I should have known. You two are made for each other you know that." Tears rimmed your eyes "Fuck you, Aemond. I’m so fucking stupid.”

You got up and grabbed your clothes off the ground, you needed to get as far away from him as possible. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing your heart break.

He all but jumped over the bed and grabbed your arms, “hey, hey” he tried to calm you down. You wanted to lash out, but knew it wouldn't do any good. “Sweetheart, talk to me.”

You didn't want to talk. What was there to say? He had a girlfriend and he only came around when she wasn't available - you get the picture.

So instead of talking, you just looked away, avoiding his gaze and focusing on the floor. Your breathing started to slow as he gently enveloped you into his arms and held you close.

For a moment, everything felt okay again. But then reality hit - your eyes widened as you remembered what had just happened and your stomach dropped in despair. The anger was back in an instant and before you knew it hot tears of rage were flowing down your cheeks.

He held onto you tighter as if trying to shield you from pain with his embrace, rocking back and forth until eventually the tears stopped.

When the storm passed, he pulled away slightly so that he could look into your eyes. He shook you, “Don’t you get it? I didn’t come here because of her, I came here for you, I came here because despite all of our differences, I still care for you.” He pleaded, “I don't want to be with her again.”

Aemond looked more apologetic than you had ever seen him; his features softened as soon as he saw how broken up inside you truly were. You blinked, you were upset and yet so confused. He smiled and kissed your forehead, “It’s you I’ve always wanted, it’s you I still want.”

You desperately wanted to believe him. In your silence, he pulled you back to the bed and held you. Once he was certain that you wouldn't try to flee, he let go of you and picked up his phone. "I want you to see what I wrote to her, Baby."

He showed you the conversation thread, and you audibly groaned in response.

[OUTGOING] 'no need. i meant what i said last night, Alys. i'm not going to change my mind.'

[OUTGOING] 'i'm tired of us getting in the way of better things. better relationships.'

[OUTGOING] 'have fun with the stark kid, i hope you don't fuck that up.'

He waited for you to finish reading and look back at him. "I blocked her too."

#norimadeit #my prince #aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x you #hotd imagine #modern aemond #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond smut #he has both eyes okay #just a word

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effloradox · 7 months

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I love Taylor swift and twilight! Ur blog is perfection 💜! Do you mind doing more jasper fan fics!

thank you so much, you're so sweet 🥺

Jasper doesn't like to talk about his past. Conversions about his history are reserved for late night whispers, when it's just the two of you in the safe haven of your room. It's not something you hold against him, you can't judge him for something he did over a hundred years ago in bad faith, but you know he feels resentment for the person he used to be. You know how much he struggles with controlling his thirst, and it’s still not the easiest thing for you to deal with.

The problem with introducing a human into a house full of vampires is that it had the potentially to go fatally wrong. Control is something that all your coven take very seriously, it's the only way you can continue to exist amongst humans after all. Everyone knows that it's you and Jasper that have the hardest time controlling yourselves around blood, it’s not exactly a secret. It never fails to astound you the sheer amount of control that Carlisle exhibits on a daily basis in his job. You're getting better with controlling your urges, and you haven't relapsed for a while but introducing a clumsy human into the house felt like a disaster waiting to happen.

In a way you blame Edward. Your emotions towards your adoptive brother are complicated even on a good day, but the idea of him bringing his human girlfriend into the house for her birthday felt like a terrible idea from the offset. Part of you had hoped Alice would have some dramatic vision that would mean you could call the whole thing off but all she'd seen was an admittedly nice vision of Bella blowing out the candles on her birthday cake surrounded by all of you.

It seemed Edward had forgotten how unbelievably accident prone his new girlfriend was though. An unforgivable oversight on his part, one you'll definitely be calling him out on later. You'd turned your back on the birthday girl for a second, just to look over to where Alice and Esme were putting the finishing touches on the cake when you'd smelt it. The acrid coppery smell of blood hit your nose instantly and every fibre of your being is drawn towards it like a forbidden siren call. Your sisters had moved to your side in an instant, only partially caging you against the kitchen counter you'd been leaning on. It's hard trying to centre yourself and not give into the urges, and it's only what's taking place on the other side of the kitchen that really brings you back to yourself.

Jasper is looking much worse for wear. His senses have honed in on Bella and all of you can tell he's only seconds away from pouncing. Emmett and Edward have their arms around him in an instant, stopping him from beelining towards the injured human but it's clear he's putting up enough of a fight that they'll struggle to restrain him for a long time. You're in front of him in the time it takes Bella to blink, your hands cupping his face gently to keep his eyes on you. Edward had pushed her towards the wall as soon as he'd heard Jasper's thoughts so she's not as close as she was, meaning she only hears fragments of what you're saying to him.

"Hey, hey, Jas it's okay. It's okay. It's just a little blood. Look at me, it's okay yeah?" Your words seem to be having some effect but Bella notes that Emmett and Edward still haven't let Jasper out of their grip. Carlisle appears by her side and she's vaguely aware that he's speaking to her but her eyes are still trained on you and Jasper. Your words seem to be having some kind of effect on him and it sends a small pang through her chest that you have the ability to calm Jasper down even in the face of the strongest temptation when Edward sometime can’t even look at her as a result of his urges.

Her eyes are still trained on the two of you as Esme leads her out of the room to go and find the first aid kit. The last thing she sees is Edward and Emmett letting Jasper go as he collapses in your arms almost bonelessly. His arms wrap around your waist as his head rests on your shoulder, giving you ample chance to press a chaste kiss to the crown of his head.

#my writing #drabbles #jasper cullen x reader #jasper hale x reader #requested #twilight x reader

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sissylittlefeather · 9 months

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A/N: here it is! I finally finished it! This could be a prequel to my other two, if you want it to be. Otherwise, it's just a fun 2nd person Elvis x fem!reader one-shot about a young and innocent Elvis on the night he becomes a man. There are most definitely historical inaccuracies, but let's just let those slide please 🥺. I'd love feedback, if you have any!

Warnings: Virgin Elvis, f/m p in v sex, fingering, lots of kissing, kind of a slow burn, unprotected sex, cussing, etc

Last thing: I'm using a gif of Austin Elvis and one of the real deal EP because you can imagine either one. Whatever makes your heart happy.

Baby, What's Your Name?

You've always been bold for a girl of your generation. Your first kiss was your idea and you haven't been "innocent" for a while now. Not that you are open and available for anyone, you just don't hold back when it comes to falling in love.

The year is 1955 and your friend Margie has begged you to come with her to a concert tonight. You have class the next day, and you take your college studies very seriously, but you figure you can still get home at a decent hour. Apparently, there's a new singer that Margie is gushing over. She's heard from other girls that he's supposed to be "something to see". Margie doesn't have much else going on; school isn't exactly her thing. She'll tell anyone who'll listen that she's only there to find a husband. You roll your eyes at this thought and go back to flipping through your closet for something to wear.

"Y/n, just pick something! We're going to be late!" Margie begs, pouting. You settle on a pink and white gingham sundress, sweeping your hair into a ponytail and tying it with a matching pink ribbon. You barely get your shoes on before Margie drags you out the door of your room on campus.

******

The crowd is almost entirely female. "Who is this guy?" You think to yourself. Oh well, no matter. Hopefully it'll be over soon and you can go home and get in bed. It's already late and it's a warm night for September. Margie is bouncing around next to you in her seat.

"Oh my gosh, I just can't wait until he comes out! Eliza said he's the cutest thing she's ever seen!" You roll your eyes again. You do that a lot around Margie. You didn't pick her to be your roommate; the university did. Still, she's been a decent friend, even if she's a little ditsy and boy crazy.

Finally, the other acts are finished and the announcer comes out to let you know this new artist is coming out.

"Please welcome to the stage Elvis Presley!"

The crowd goes absolutely insane. You start to wonder if maybe you've been studying too much. How could you not know this man that everyone else is so crazy for?

He walks out to the middle of the stage. He's wearing a pink jacket that matches the color of your dress. You're surprised to find that he's much more attractive than you imagined he would be, with his boyish smirk and black hair. You sit up a little straighter in your chair, but a group of girls has gathered in the front standing up, so you can't really see anymore from your seat.

Margie grabs your hand, "Come on! Let's go up there!"

"No, no I'm okay here."

Then he starts to sing. Your heart skips a beat and something deep in your stomach turns over. You stand up without even thinking, trying to see better. Margie takes the opportunity and grabs your hand. You don't fight back as she drags you up to the stage.

When you get close enough to really be able to see him, the thing in your stomach flip flops again. He's moving. And not just, like, tapping his foot. He's moving his legs and his hips in ways you didn't even think was possible... not in public, at least. The thing in your stomach moves deeper in your body to the place between your legs. You are drawn to him like he's got some kind of spell on you. More girls press in behind you, but thanks to Margie, you were up there pretty early and you're only one row back from the stage.

You need him. You need him to notice you and want you too. You start racking your brain for what you can do to get his attention. Every other girl around you is screaming like a fool. That won't work. They're also reaching for him like they might pull him off the stage if he gets close enough. He's moving around the stage quite a bit, but he's very careful never to get too close. If only you had something to throw... but you don't have anything in your hands, no bracelets or anything, and the ribbon from your ponytail isn't heavy enough to make it all the way to the stage. He's singing a slower song now, playing his guitar and looking around the crowd. Somehow, his blue eyes make contact with yours and your heart stops. You become acutely aware of your panties and the place on your body directly under them.

Wait. That's it! That would certainly get his attention. And you could easily get them off with the crowd surrounding you. Also, your full skirt that goes all the way to your knees will keep anyone from really knowing they're missing. You start working them down your thighs and Margie notices you wiggling next to her.

"What are you doing?!"

"Don't worry about it."

Finally, you feel your panties hit your ankles and rest on your shoes. It's nearly impossible with the crowd pressing in around you, but you manage to get them off your feet and into your hand. You take a second to thank the heavens that you were wearing pretty pink ones with lace, and not your laundry day undies. You look up to the stage, assessing how hard to throw them to make it right to where he's standing. After spending years playing baseball with your brothers as a kid, you're pretty confident you can get them there.

You take one last look at him; he's holding the mic at an angle, leaned over it and singing with his whole body. The second he finishes the song and stands up, you use all the strength in your arm and calculations you've just done and throw...

They land perfectly at his feet. You couldn't have possibly done any better if your life depended on it. Margie and the other girls directly around you stop and look at you, trying to figure out what you've thrown on the stage.

"Now, what's this?" He asks, picking your panties up from his feet and holding them up. When he realizes what they are, he blushes deeply.

"Well, that's something I didn't expect." He laughs into the mic and looks out into the audience to try to figure out who has given him such an awkward gift. The other girls are staring at you with their mouths open, so it's not hard for him to figure out. Your blush matches his, though, so he simply nods his head slightly in your direction, puts your panties in his pocket quickly and quietly, and moves on to his next song. The girls go back to screaming and you feel various others in the crowd wiggling like you did just minutes ago. Before he can even finish the song, panties are flying on stage left and right. He starts laughing, "ladies, I'm very flattered, but this is really unnecessary!"

The announcer rushes back out onto the stage, stepping between Elvis and the microphone.

"Thank you, Mr. Presley, for such a lovely show! Now, that's the end of our program for the evening, everyone. Thanks for coming out and be safe on your way home!"

You feel a little guilty for ending his set early with your panty-throwing, but you didn't make all those other girls go crazy. Still, you wish he would stay up there forever, singing and moving his hips. You're not ready for this feeling to go away. Another crazy thought enters your head. Maybe you'll try to get your panties back...

******

It wasn't hard to figure out where he is staying. There's really only one nice motel in town and the cars from his tour caravan are in the parking lot. You managed to convince Margie to go on home, so you're alone. You're a little nervous, walking into the motel office, but your boldness wins out.

"Hi. I need to know which room Mr. Presley is in."

"Yeah, you and every other girl in town."

"Right, but he asked for me. Call him. I just forgot the room number." It's a flimsy lie and you know it. The motel worker picks up the phone and dials "121".

"Never mind, I was lying. You caught me. I had to try though, right?" You chuckle softly as you back out of the office. Once you're outside, you head straight to room 121. When you get there, you have a sudden attack of nerves. It's so late at night and you're about to knock on the door of a man you've never actually met. This is crazy.

You're standing there trying to decide what to do when the door opens and he almost walks straight into you.

"Oh, I'm sorry darlin', I didn't even see you there." You're frozen to the spot, speechless at his closeness to you as he stands in the doorway of his motel room. He explains something about wanting to talk to someone about how to keep the show going, even if the crowd gets rowdy.

"But I'm not sure why I'm telling you this. Why are you here?" His brows knit together in the center of his forehead.

"Me? I'm just... well... I believe you have something of mine." Again, your boldness beats your fear and you walk past him into his room. He looks out the door and around nervously before closing it gently and turning around to face you. The curtains are pulled shut tightly and the glow from the lamps makes everything in the room kind of orange.

"Something of yours? Honey, I'm not sure I know what you're talking about."

"Something I threw on the stage." You look him dead in the eyes, hoping he'll recognize you.

"Oh. Oh! It's you!" Thank heavens, he does recognize you. He blushes again, not as deeply this time, but the memory is affecting him.

"I do have something of yours, but I have no intention of giving them back." He smiles playfully and walks across the room to where his jacket is hanging on the back of a chair. He pulls your panties out of his jacket pocket and holds them tightly in his fist.

"The way I see it, you gave me these, fair and square."

"Well, I wasn't really thinking, and it's weird not wearing any..." you realize what you've just told him and his eyes slowly drift to just below your waist before he snaps them back up to meet your eyes again. He swallows hard and you stand there awkwardly, not sure what to say next. You walk across the room to him and reach for your panties. He holds them up high over your head and pouts.

"Do you really want them back?"

You're standing so close to him now that you can feel him breathing. Your heart is in your throat with the sensation of his closeness. You don't want your panties back. You want something else entirely.

"No..." you whisper quietly, trying to signal him that he could kiss you if he wants to, that he should kiss you.

Somehow, he reads your signals correctly and leans in slowly. He moves carefully watching for signs that this isn't what you want, but your upturned face and eyes closed softly are exactly what he's hoping for. When his lips finally touch yours, they're gentle, but soon after he drops your panties on the floor and grabs your face with both hands. His lips part yours and his tongue dips into your mouth hungrily. He moves his hands to your waist and you throw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a more passionate kiss. You're locked together like this for some time, kissing, before you realize his hands are shaking lightly. He pulls out of the kiss and puts his forehead on yours, breathing heavily.

"You kiss me like this much more, darlin' and I'm not sure I'll be able to stop."

"I don't want you to stop."

He pulls back and looks at you, his mouth hanging open in mild shock. You can't figure out why he's so nervous. You're saying "yes" in every way you know how. He swallows again deeply and blushes a little.

"Aw, now, honey, don't say things you don't mean. I've never..."

Your eyes widen in disbelief. His nervousness is starting to make sense. He's never done this before. He's a virgin.

The realization makes you smile and you giggle a little at the thought. This man, who dances on stage like he does this every other night, has never actually been with a woman.

"Well, it's not that funny." He pouts again.

"No, I'm sorry, it's not funny at all. But if you don't want to do this, tell me now. Because I won't let you if you really don't want to." You smile reassuringly, but your body is aching for him to touch more of you.

"I didn't say I don't want to." He goes in for another deep and passionate kiss, his tongue moving in ways you'd never imagined. All you can think about is his tongue touching you in other places and that warm spot between your legs gets even warmer. He picks you up by the waist, lifting your feet off the floor just enough to carry you to the bed. Laying you gently on the bed, he stops for a second and looks at you laying there in your pink gingham dress. You prop yourself up on your elbows and kick off your shoes.

"What?"

"Nothing... I just... pink is my favorite color." He mumbles before laying on the bed next to you. You're both laying on your sides facing each other and he begins to undress you carefully, first untying the ribbon in your hair. Then he slides his hand down your back to unzip your dress. The zipper ends where your panties should be, but aren't, and as his fingers brush your skin, you tingle all over. His hand travels back up to the latch of your bra. He fumbles with it for a bit, his fingers trembling, before he finally gets it unclasped. You become keenly aware that all he has to do is slide your dress forward and down and you'll be completely naked. You can see by the bulge in his pants that he's had this thought too. You put your hand up to his face, cupping his cheek.

"You're sure this is what you want?"

"Honey, I've never been more sure of anything in my life." He pulls your dress and bra forward and off of you, standing up to drop it on the floor with your shoes. Now you can really see his hardness pushing against his pants. He takes his shirt off and you sit up to unbutton his pants, letting them drop to the floor next to the pile of your clothes.

Now you're both naked. You touch him gently and he sighs and looks up at the ceiling. After a few seconds of this, he almost can't stand it anymore, so he lays you down on the bed, crawling on top of you, still trembling, but obviously gaining confidence. He presses his lips to yours again and you rub your tongue along his bottom lip before he opens his mouth into a deeper kiss. His hand moves down your body, stopping to caress your breast and run his thumb over your nipple. His hand shakes less and less as he moves further down your torso to your hip. He rolls to the side a little and walks his fingers over to the place between your legs. You open them just enough for him to slip a finger inside you. You let out a small moan against his mouth as he moves his finger in and out and in again. You stop kissing him and look into his eyes, reaching down to his hand. Gently, you guide his thumb to the spot that makes your stomach turn over and your heart beat faster.

"Here. Do circles." He listens eagerly and does exactly as you tell him. He feels the knot harden as he massages it, so he keeps up a consistent rhythm. You lose the ability to give him further instruction-- he doesn't need it anyway-- as the pleasure builds up between your legs. You can feel yourself approaching your climax and prepare yourself for the fireworks. He's watching you so closely, taking cues from your body about what to do next. He puts his finger back in you, doing a tickling motion with his fingertip against your insides. You might burst with all the electricity flowing through your body.

"Oh! Yes! Fuck!" You cry out as the ecstatic release washes over you and you begin to pulse around his finger. He smiles widely, amused by your cussing and pleased with his ability to give you an orgasm on his first try. You're not exactly sure how he managed it, but you really don't care. You're still riding your body high. He moves his hand back to your hip and you feel your wetness on his fingers. He's kissing you again, grinding his hardness against your thigh. Despite your release, you're ready for more of him inside you. You reach down again, wrapping your hand around him softly and moving his hips to line up with yours. You put his tip against yourself and pull back from his kiss.

"Last chance to back out." He smiles and looks directly into your eyes. Then, he pushes forward with his hips, just like he did on stage, filling you entirely. The sensation almost overwhelms him and he sets his forehead on your shoulder.

"Oh fuck, baby." Now it's your turn to smile at him for cussing.

"It actually gets better." He lifts his head off your shoulder to look into your eyes and there's an excitement in his that almost makes you laugh out loud. Instead, you plant a kiss on his lips and wrap your legs around his waist. He starts to pump in and out rhythmically. You're not surprised that he's good at this part. You've seen him move on stage. Still, you know he probably won't last too long, since it's his first time, and there's more you want to show him. You release him from your legs and push him off of you and onto his back.

"Oh no baby what...?" With one leg on either side of his hips, you lower yourself onto him. He nearly loses his mind as the change in angle changes the sensation. He moans deeply and grabs your hips, guiding your movement as you ride him. His pleasure is building up and you know he's close as you slide up and down. You move faster and faster, pushing him toward his climax.

"Oh fuck, shit, fuck baby!" He yells as you feel him shudder underneath you and fill you with his warmth. He moans loudly as you move up and down a few more times to really push him over the edge. With him still inside you, you lean forward and lay on his chest. He wraps his arms around you.

"Wow, honey, that was... wow." You smile against his chest, satisfied with your work. After a good amount of time in this position, you move off of him and lay down next to him on your back. He props himself up on his elbow and turns to face you.

"How soon can we do it again?" You chuckle at his eagerness as you realize you won't be making it back to your room tonight. Suddenly, his eyebrows come together on his forehead in worry and you rearrange yourself to look him in the face, mildly concerned at his expression. You brace yourself for some kind of confession. Instead, he smiles and innocently asks:

"Baby... what's your name?"

You erupt in peals of laughter, wrapping your arms around him and rolling over on top of him. You think of the panties on the floor of his motel room, so glad that Margie dragged you to the concert tonight. This might be the beginning of something wonderful.

"My name is..."

#elvis fans #austin butler elvis #austin elvis imagine #elvis presley #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley x reader #elvis smut #elvis x reader #austin elvis x reader #elvis fanfic #elvis presely smut #elvis presley x y/n #50s elvis #elvis x y/n #austin elvis smut #elvis fanfiction #austin!elvis fanfiction #elvis presley fic

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sl-ut · 1 year

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a princess's order

pairing: rhaenyra targaryen x fem!reader

description: rhaenyra tries to come to terms with the fact that y/n is betrothed and will soon be leaving king’s landing, but it is much more difficult than she had anticipated.

warnings: descriptions of sex, slight hints homophobia, arranged marriage

words: 4.4K

date posted: 20/12/2022

next part

“Have you ever kissed a man?”

The question was a bold one to be asked by one young princess to her lady as they took a stroll through the gardens, and a few older ladies seemed to perk up as she asked it while they passed by. Gossip was a very expensive luxury in King’s Landing, and so late in the afternoon on the evening of a royal feast, very few were eager to pass up points of conversation to bring up with those who they are seated with. However, anyone who genuinely knew the princess and her lady would know that this was not entirely out of context. The two young girls liked to spy on others at court, spinning their own tales about which lady was after which lord, and what aspects of their personal life would jeopardise such a match, making sly comments about the men who served the princess’s father so dutifully (and the queen, on several occasions), but never had they truly ventured into their own sexual appetites, for they were both young and unmarried, so they were expected to have not taken part in anything below their station.

Y/n’s face beamed with heat, embarrassment creeping up her spine at the princess’s question. She lowered her gaze to the fabrics of her skirts, picking at them anxiously with her free hand before she shook her head.

“Of course not,” She glanced over her shoulder to spy the princess’s sworn protector, Ser Criston acting as if he was not at all listening in on their conversation from several paces back, “It would be unbefitting of me.”

“Hm,” Rhaenyra hummed, “Interesting.”

"Rhaenyra," The lady hissed, "Please tell me you haven't-"

“Lady Y/n, do you dare question my virtue? As Princess of the Seven Kingdoms and heir to the Iron Throne, I could have you hanged, drawn, and quartered for such a thing.”

Y/n scoffed, bumping the silver haired princess with her shoulder as they continued to walk. Rhaenyra chuckled at her, pursing her lips as she thought up her next inquiry.

“Have you ever been with a man?”

“Rhaenyra!” Y/n sneered under her breath, “I’ve already told you that I haven’t so much as kissed a man, and now you ask if I’ve-” She glanced back at Ser Criston once more before lowering her voice even more, “-lost my maidenhead?”

“Oh please, it does not require kissing.”

Y/n furrowed her brows. She did her best not to imagine how her parents had been while performing their marital duties, but she did know that they were very in love and did not hold back on their affection when in the company of their own families. As the lord of a powerful house from the Riverlands, Y/n’s father was betrothed to the most suitable bride, and it was considerable luck that they grew fond of each other. Y/n dreamed of a marriage of her own that resembled that of her parents, and she certainly could not imagine allowing someone to be inside of her without even so much as a kiss.

“Would you wish it without?” Y/n asked.

Rhaenyra debated her answer, “Depends. If he is old and ugly, I think I could do without, but I think I would quite prefer it if he were to be quite handsome.”

Y/n remained quiet at this. The days were growing sparse in the time that they had left together like this; Soon enough they would be married off and unable to spend so much time together in favour of caring for their husbands and children. Rhaenyra at least had the luxury of having a choice in the matter, and the fact that she would remain in King’s Landing regardless of who she married, while Y/n was under the complete control of her father and could be shipped off to the other end of Westeros to marry any old lord at a moment’s notice. In fact, she knew for a fact that her father had already been corresponding with several lords around the nation for a match for her, whether it be for himself or for his son, and from her father’s perspective, many seem eager to take such a fine young lady to wife.

“I think we should return, Princess,” Y/n murmured, “The sun is setting, and you still need to be bathed and dressed before the feast.”

If Rhaenyra took note of her friend’s change in attitude, she did not make it clear to her as she quietly agreed, holding her arm tighter within her own as they began the trek back into the Red Keep and up to the tower where her chambers were.

The hours of the evening passed quickly with so much to do. Rhaenyra took her time in the bath, preferring to make life more difficult for her ladies and handmaidens than it truly needed to be, while Y/n carefully laid out her gown for the evening before taking care of her own appearance. The young lady donned a gown of scarlet silk, a colour that Rhaenyra insisted that she wears more often–not only did it compliment her features tremendously, but it also meant that she wore the colours of the royal house. The dress had short, capped sleeves, and an intricately embroidered bodice of gold, white, and amethyst, allowing her space to breathe and giving her a more womanly figure, which her father insisted that she must begin to present.

Rhaenyra smiled at her when she took in her appearance, kissing her cheek and telling her that she was lovely. The young lady blushed at her words, surely Rhaenyra must be blind to compliment her when she always appeared so radiant herself. Rhaenyra’s gown was extravagant for such a common event, though she seemed to prefer more mature designs as of late. It was grey in colour, but took on multiple shades of thread that decorated the entire length of the gown; It was a beauty that Y/n imagined that her father would need to sell all of his titles and lands to even hope to afford, though it was likely gifted to the princess, as many of her finer articles were. The princess struggled to disguise her sneer when her handmaidens suggested that tonight she would attract many suitors in such a dress, and even joked that she would change if they thought such a thing.

“You look beautiful, princess,” Y/n wrapped her arms around her shoulders from behind as they stared into the mirror at one another, “Like a queen in her own right.”

Rhaenyra smiled at her, the apples of her cheeks growing red at her praise, grasping her hands within her own to thank her.

The princess did not expect to find someone so dear to her after Alicent became queen, and she hadn’t expected to feel so close to someone else in such a way that made her heart soar upon her kind words and her stomach clenched at the mere sight of her. Rhaenyra admired her friend’s beauty, sometimes finding herself unable to look away even when she was caught. She, too, understood that their friendship would never stay the same after they were both married, only she was under the impression that she would be able to call upon her dearest friend whenever she needed her, and that Y/n would never agree to a match that required her to pick up and leave her behind.

The feast was grand, a celebration of the young princess Helaena’s second name day. It was not an occasion in comparison to the ones held in honour for Rhaenyra’s own name days, nor was it as grand as those held for the prince Aegon, but it was still a large scale event that befits a member of the royal family. Rhaenyra, of course, is seated at the right hand of her father, glowing in the candle light as she overlooks the masses that have gathered, eyes constantly falling over to where her beloved friend was sitting with her own father, who scarcely took a break from socialising with the other nobles around him to notice that Jason Lannister had taken up the seat next to his daughter and was speaking very closely to her ear.

Rhaenyra sneered at this. Jason Lannister had once made an attempt to seduce her, and once she had made it clear to him that she would fly to Casterly Rock and burn it to the ground before she became its Lady, he made haste to turn his attentions elsewhere, and unfortunately for her, he had seemed to set his gaze upon Lady Y/n. She appeared to be equally as unimpressed with his honey-coated words as she did thankful for some sort of entertainment, but Rhaenyra was sure that Y/n wouldn’t be foolish enough to fall for whatever he was telling her, especially since she had been the one to tell her many things about Jason Lannister several years before when he had tried to seduce the princess at Aegon’s name day hunt.

Still, the princess found herself downing the remainder of her honey wine–funnily enough having been provided for the feast by Jason Lannister’s brother, Tyland–before she descended the small staircase and slowly made her way through the crowd in the direction of her lady.

“Lord Jason,” Rhaenyra interrupted whatever he was saying, “If you wouldn’t mind, I am in need of Lady Y/n’s assistance.”

“Princess,” The lord appeared peeved at her for stealing the young lady away, but offered no interference, “Why of course.” He paused to kiss Y/n’s knuckles, “I hope you might save me a dance, Lady Y/n.”

Rhaenyra snickered as she led her friend away from the lords, “I’ll accept your thanks later. You truly mustn’t keep such dull company, dear friend.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, “That is why I accompany myself with you, Princess. Never a dull moment. Though, I’m afraid my father won’t be happy with you dragging me away from yet another potential betrothal.”

Rhaenyra glared, “You and Jason Lannister? He is hardly worthy.”

Y/n sighed, “I’m starting to think that you believe that no one is worthy.”

“Because no one is worthy of you,” Rhaenyra grasped her hand within her own. “Nor will they ever be, and I promise I will feed any man who claims otherwise to Syrax.”

Rhaenyra was serious with her threat, and though she knew better than to think that she could just feed anyone to her dragon for simply glancing in her lady’s direction, it did not stop her from releasing the wrath of her own inner dragon on them.

Over the next four weeks, Rhaenyra made sure to have lords embarrassed or sent away from court as they began to interrupt her time with Y/n, few of them brave enough to make propositions to both of them. Rhaenyra was growing suspicious of Y/n’s father, who never seemed to be too far from his daughter these days and always seemed to be peeved with the amount of time that the two young girls often spent together.

During the fifth week, Rhaenyra set her sights on Lord Robert Crane, the heir to a northern house. It had happened during one of their many strolls through the gardens, Rhaenyra had stepped away from the beaten path for a moment as she spied a small red flower with dark black blooming around the edge of each petal, plucking it for her dearest lady only to find that the young lord had taken her place, offering her an even larger flower of gold and amethyst–the colours of his own house.

“Lord Robin, how lovely to see you,” She greeted him with a sickly smile.

“Princess,” He bowed his head to her, then shrugged as he corrected her, “Apologies, but it’s Robert.”

“Oh, how foolish of me,” Rhaenyra smirked, “I have a hard time remembering names of those who are scarcely mentioned at court.”

Y/n widened her eyes at her as a silent sign to stop speaking, though the young lord did not seem to even understand the insult, or if he had, he did not allow her to see the fact that he had been so affected by her words.

“No offence taken, Princess,” He shrugged once more, “My family does not come to court often, as we are so far away.” Robert glanced over to hold Y/n’s uncertain gaze, “My father and I have come to find me a suitable match, I’m to inherit the seat of Denmerhell someday. My home is the source of more than half of the realm’s rubies, and I would hope to someday shower my bride in jewels just as precious as she.”

Rhaenyra sneered at him, then at her lady who seemed to be soaking up every ounce of attention that he was offering her.

“Yes, well we usually prefer even more precious materials here in the capitol, isn’t that right, Lady Y/n?” She turned to her friend, reaching to lift her hand to show him the dainty ring that sat on her finger, “Valyrian steel. I had a second made so that my lady and I could match.”

“Valyrian steel?” He puckered his lips in thought, “Now that is hard to come by, though I suppose it is quite a waste to melt it into jewellery rather than weapons. Beautiful as it may be, this ring could be a dagger–I could make you one, my lady, and encrust the hilt with as many rubies as you please.”

Rhaenyra could not help the slight drop of her jaw. He could not have just offered to take the ring that she had made for Y/n to make it into a dagger–How bold could he be? She was the princess, for gods’ sake, and someday would be queen. Though, at least she now knew who her first war would be waged against.

“Thank you, my lord, that is a very kind offer.” Y/n smiled politely.

“We must go, I’m afraid,” Rhaenyra took Y/n’s arm, “Womanly duties, I’m sure Lord Reginald understands.”

“Of course,” He pressed a kiss to Y/n’s knuckles, “My lady.”

He sauntered off without even acknowledging the princess once more, leaving both of the young ladies to watch his back as he disappeared around one of the many long walls of hedges. Rhaenyra was baffled to find somewhat of a dreamy glaze coating her friend’s eyes as she stared after the young lord, and grasped her arm tighter within her own in order to return her attention to her. As the sole child of the king, Rhaenyra was more than accustomed to being spoiled with goods and attention, and while many suitors have cut in on their time together in search of her own hand in marriage, she did not appreciate having Y/n’s attention stolen away–sharing was not something she was ever required to do.

The weeks that followed had plagued Rhaenyra. Y/n’s father had been hard at work to find his daughter a match, and as hard as she tried, Lord Robert Crane did not scare as easily as the others. To be quite plain, the man was boring, sure he had titles and wealth, and perhaps he may be an accomplished knight, but he was selfish and spoke solely of his own accomplishments rather than inquiring about Y/n. It was clear that he was quite taken with her, and he would be incredibly glad to take her as his wife, and for some unknown reason, Y/n was just as taken with him. As far as Rhaenyra was concerned, Y/n was the only confidant that she had remaining, and Robert Crane was a clear threat.

The princess began taking extreme measures, requiring her lady’s attention to be entirely on her for most hours of the day, while also requesting that she break her fast and eat her dinner with her each day, and some nights she even asked her to lie next to her, claiming that she was having trouble sleeping. These nights would be spent in quiet whispers, gentle touches of fingers beneath the sheets, and soft giggles as they struggled to remain quiet enough to avoid being heard by Ser Criston from his post outside the door, though nothing could prevent the gleeful snickers from escaping the room. It was a way of keeping her close, keeping her loyal to her and only her.

The silver-haired princess was less than pleased one evening, upon crawling beneath the sheets of her goosefeather bed only for her lady to turn over and curl into herself. Curious, Rhaenyra took in the sight of her figure beneath the covers, and scooched closer so that she may reach around her and grasp her cool fingers within her own. Curling into her, Rhaenyra rested her chin on Y/n’s shoulder to be able to see her face.

“Are you angry with me?”

A small sniffle left Y/n before she spoke, voice wavering, “Angry? I could never be, princess.”

“What is the matter?” She asked, “Are you harmed?”

“No, princess,” Y/n turned to lay facing the princess, allowing her to peer at her red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks, “My father has betrothed me.”

Rhaenyra gulped, her gaze hardening as she spit out, “To whom?”

The young lady paused before she whispered her answer, “Lord Robert Crane.”

The princess laughed humourlessly, “Your father is a fool to believe that he is worthy of you.”

“Worthy? Rhaenyra, House Crane is much wealthier than my own, and they are a powerful force in the north, second only to House Stark. I am marrying well above my station.”

“And yet, here you are. As my lady, you are in the highest position any lady could dream of, save for queen. You are among the most precious beings in this realm, much too precious to be wearing his rubies.”

Y/n giggled sadly, shaking her head, “I wish we could stay like this; Neither of us would need to marry or have children. We could simply be together.”

Rhaenyra flushed at her words, “I would like that, too. I long to keep you at my side, and I can imagine you at the side of no one except myself. I would take you as my own wife to keep you near.”

Y/n furrowed her brows, “You shouldn’t say such things.”

“I am serious,” Rhaenyra sat up, “I do not understand why I must marry a man. If it is for the sake of children, I would take a husband simply to provide heirs, but you would be my consort. Aegon the Conqueror took two wives, so why can I not?”

“You are not meant to take any wives, Rhaenyra,” Y/n noted, “In truth, I understand it as little as you, and I cannot say why it is wrong, only that the world would not allow it.”

“The world is mine to claim,” Rhaenyra smirked at her, “When I am queen, I can change the law and do as I please.”

“Careful, Nyra,” The young lady told her, “You begin to sound like a tyrant.”

“I would be,” The princess moved to straddle the girl, “for you.”

“Rhaenyra–”

“Do not speak,” The princess crouched to hover over her, nudging her playfully with her nose.

Carefully, Rhaenyra lowered her face and gently laid a quick kiss to her friend’s own li[ps. She pulled back enough for the young lady to make any sort of refusal to the union, though after receiving none, she pressed even closer.

She moved to press her kisses along the expanse of Y/n’s collar bones, fingers carefully tugging the neckline of her nightgown so that she could access even more of her supple flesh. Y/n whimpered under her touch, one hand reaching to tangle her fingers in the long silver locks of the princess, while her other palm pressed into her waist.

Pulling away, Rhaenyra sat up once more and quickly tugged her own silk nightdress over her head, leaving her bare to the world and to her young lady, who had seen her in such a state many a time before, though it was always during her bathing or when Y/n was helping her dress, and never in the sense that she was exposing herself to her lady in the sexual manner that she had been now. Y/n’s eyes widened, taking her time in actually admiring the princess’s form as she hovered over her. She whimpered her name as Rhaenyra began to trace her breasts through the sheer gown, pinching her nipple gently until it hardened into an erect peak.

“Shh…” the princess whispered, “Allow me to perform my wifely duties, my sweet.”

The nights over the next few weeks followed suit. Some nights they simply lay side by side and talked until exhaustion would take over, sharing sweet kisses and gentle touches. Other nights, Rhaenyra would waste little time ridding herself of her nightgown and they would bring each other to the edge as many times as it took for each of them to be satisfied. Y/n understood this to be lust, something that her mother had always warned her against, though she had strictly mentioned that she needed to be careful of the lust brought on by the influence of men–that falling pregnant prior to marriage would ruin her reputation, and by association, her life. This, however, was not a threat with Rhaenyra, it was harmless fun that may or may not have provided her with some comfort in the feelings that were beginning to flourish in her chest each time that she crawled into bed next to her. For Rhaenyra, it was different. She hadn’t been joking as much as her friend had believed her to be, and fully intended on keeping her at her side for the rest of her life. She understood that most wouldn’t accept Y/n as her consort, but she would certainly be the love of her life while whatever man would be held responsible for helping her bear heirs would be just that and free to do as he pleased as well.

And then she heard the news. It was announced at a small feast one evening–scarcely thirty people in attendance–that Y/n and her betrothed would be leaving the capitol in a fortnight and were to be wedded once they arrived in Denmerhell, which was thousands of miles from King’s Landing.

Y/n knew from the glare that she received from the silver-haired princess that she would not soon hear the end of her anger. The atmosphere in the princess’s chambers was not as calming as usual when she arrived that night. She called her name twice before she found her curled into herself beneath her silk sheets.

“Rhaenyra,” she sighed, rounding the bed to sit on her knees behind her, “Please speak to me.”

The princess rolled onto her back, icily staring up at her friend, “What do I have to speak about? I could tell you that he is not worthy of you, that I would take you as my consort, that I would let them all burn for you. I’ve told you all of this before and yet your father hopes to send you away. Tell me, what did his face look like when you refused?”

Y/n’s bottom lip quivered, “I would not know.”

“You haven’t told him yet?”

“Rhaenyra, you know that I cannot–”

“You can. You can refuse him, stay with me until I take the throne and become a queen. You can, and you will, just as I have said no to countless men so that I can have you.”

“You know it isn’t the same, Rhaenyra.”

“Do I?”

“You are the heir to the Iron Throne, men are throwing themselves at your feet in hopes of being chosen. I am the youngest child of a lord who just so happens to be in favour with the king, I have three older sisters who have already wed powerful lords, and I am simply lucky enough that my father cares for the station of the man I marry. In the last year, I have had three potential suitors, all of which you have chased away, and one man who managed to propose before you could. I do not have the same luxuries as you, Rhaenyra, and this is one of them.”

“Do not speak to me of responsibility, remember which of us is in line to inherit the Iron Throne.”

“Don’t think I have ever forgotten. You have been praised for the mundane and promised things I could never even dream of, you wear the finest of clothing and are gifted the most beautiful of jewellery in the realm, you get to do things that would ruin anyone else without consequences, and you don’t even take into consideration of what others give for you.”

Rhaenyra sneered, fingers grasping at Y/n’s wrist before she could clamber away from her, “So it is jealousy, then? You cannot spare to see me with fine things or hold my birthright?”

Y/n wiped her cheek, pulling away from her iron grasp as she began to pull her robe over her shoulders, “You have been granted great things, Rhaenyra, but you cannot begin to know what it means to not be the royal heir. The lords scarcely accept you as heir, do you truly think they would accept me as your wife?”

“Where are you going?”

“My own chambers.”

Rhaenyra stood from the bed, “No. You will sleep at my side as you always have. You will tend to me, as you always have, and if you still wish to be a northerner’s whore, then I am powerless to stop you.”

Y/n’s spine visibly stiffened, “Is that an order, Princess Rhaenyra?”

Rhaenyra sniffled, “Yes.”

Rhaenyra did not find sleep that night, nor many of those to come. A fortnight passed seamlessly, leaving her to watch from afar as a wheelhouse was prepared for the long trek north. She had yet to speak to her friend about that night, scarcely speaking to her at all beyond orders.

“Princess,” One of her handmaidens appeared behind her, “Do you wish to bid farewell to Lady Y/n?”

Rhaenyra turned her gaze back down to the sight below her, catching the gaze of her friend from hundreds of feet below. Tears welled at her waterline, begging to be freed as the young lady raised a hand to her.

Wiping at her cheeks, the princess turned to march back into her chambers, “I would not.”

She disappeared within the palace walls in a flash of silver, leaving Y/n’s final glimpse of her to be one of utter betrayal.

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