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satoruhour · 10 months

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BROTHER’S BSF !

a/n: older brother’s best friend trope always gets me muahahah it’s my absolute favourite. the tension, the lingering touches aaarrhrgggh. no beta. suggestive language at the end. / 1.9k ✶

you weren’t sure when your older brother and his best friend had changed so much, but you attribute it to the time when your brother invited you to his dorm, after ages of fighting for a double room because they were basically inseparable. it’s then when you realise how your older brother has grown into the ‘young man’ like all your relatives used to say.

but your eyes constantly flit to geto suguru’s area of the room, posters of bands and artwork littering his walls, a few vinyl records tucked neatly under his study desk, and then him.

you’re feigning your interest in whatever your older brother is babbling about but really you’re stuck on how geto leans against the doorframe of their 6-month old dorm room, trying to find something that altered his whole aura, but alas, the gods had always been kind to him.

geto never was able to shake off girls and guys that flock to him, mainly because of his kind disposition and gentle smile. they ask him about his ear gauges and soft hair when he was young, and then later on they enquire about his septum that looked like hell to go through, and all he does is to explain what they want to hear. you at least remember that much from all the times you spent with him when you were young.

he likes the attention just a little, but it never quite settles, that irksome feeling that something’s missing. it isn’t until he’s packing to head off to university and waving goodbye to you that he realises it’s your attention he craves. he doesn’t hold it against you either, however, because he’s not entirely sweet and smiles to you. it’s a byproduct of being his older brother’s friend, partaking in mischief and nudging each other with sibling rivalry — with underlying tension that’s never addressed.

that same tension returns when you’re standing in the middle of the overwhelming dorm room, his stature larger than it was in high school and the immense change hits you like a bullet. you feel giddy when he comes up to you, cologne filling your nose and the tattoos peeking out under his top makes you swallow your words.

“how’re you?” geto engulfs you in a hug, voice just above a whisper and he sighs just at the feeling of your body against his. he keeps his arms loosely around your waist even after the embrace and you’re glad he did, indulging in this moment. “haven’t seen you for years.”

you roll your eyes and smack his shoulder, “it’s only been six months, you’ll live without me.” and though it was said as a joke, geto wanted to laugh at the irony it possessed, because he knew it wasn’t true for him and he was sure it wasn’t true for you too.

you don’t see him for a while after that, left to your own devices of thinking of how he grew into his features, of how the tattoo ink of his dragon is still so fresh, of how his arms felt so inviting. geto was in a similar predicament, a certain blur over his eyes whenever he had assignments to complete and parties to attend.

those next six months were tormenting to go through, made easier by the occasional visits you made and the texts you exchanged with him and he feels like a schoolgirl with a crush again. the space between you closed more and more every time your brother called you over to the uni, the touches more personal, the words softer and secretive.

geto rambled about his favourite bands, let you trace the scales of his dragon before saying how he almost cried from the pain, he showed you his assignments because his major wasn’t entirely different from the one you enrolled in. you never miss how the touches always had that chilling spark, and how he’s so close to you sometimes you can feel his breath, and you’d never mention how it was all at the hands of your older brother’s best friend.

your daydreaming is interrupted by the devil himself, who’s casually lying on his bed while you’re hunching over a project from your part-time job (that you aren’t even close to completing), “any chance you could ditch that project and entertain this poor guy?”

your brother’s out and it’s just the two of you under the slowly darkening sky, and you know the reason why you’re so focused on the laptop is because you wouldn’t be able to concentrate any longer the moment you look at geto.

“what’s this project about anyway?” he mumbles, getting up from the comfort of his sheets to look at your blinding screen, and he doesn’t realise the effect he has on you when he also hunches over (over you in fact), hand dangerously close to yours and the dangle of his necklace next to your ears is reason enough to turn your head towards him.

geto knows you probably want anything but to talk about your boring project, and he takes the leap by inching his hand close to yours, fingers igniting the jumps in your heart when his thumb finally meets your pinky and it takes everything in you not to lean in.

he holds your stare perfectly even when skin and skin makes its first contact and it’s so much fire in your bones that someone can probably smell the smoke, until the door bursts open and your annoying brother announces his arrival. the other jumps and stumbles back with a clear of his throat and you’re quick to mask your disappointment, not trusting yourself to look at the distraught on geto’s face.

the incident is never talked about, going back to your previous camaraderie before, but it was never quite the same each time you returned. you only could thank god your brother was always in since that day, until the next.

the next time you’re hanging out with the both of them is after a party, something you’re not too fond about, so they both suggest you come over after. at this point you’re familiar with the structure of the dorms, even more than the friends you’ve made at orientation — you have the two boys to thank for that.

“has the loser finally arrived?” your brother speaks through foam and slimy skincare serums, voice echoing throughout the bathroom as you stop briefly at its door to give him the finger through the mirror. he wastes no time to flick some water and you recoil and laugh in disgust, placing down the cans of light alcohol and snacks they told you to buy.

you extend the greeting to geto, albeit a little more sheepishly who returns it with a lazy wave and smile, going back to whatever was on his phone. the friday night passes smoothly, the conversation ranging from your experience in the university to when you’d get your dorms, amongst many other things. it’s late past two when your brother calls it a night and the room is filled with protests.

“you guys are so dramatic, i’m just going to sleep,” your brother mumbles under his breath, and you feel a little bad for him.

“and what if i need to go home?” you scoff, downing the last bits of your beer, “can’t believe you’re leaving me stranded in your room.” there’s a faint chuckle from geto beside you.

you push him away when he ruffles your hair, and although you have some bite to your words, you know your brother would wake up in an instant to drive you anywhere. being a year younger than him does that, fights and banter and all, he still takes care of you like he did when you were kids. “wake me up when you want to go home, ‘kay?”

humming in response, you both bid your brother goodnight and the night continues with geto, a bit more tense than before. easy conversation still flows, though, laughing too hard at his jokes and talking about your interests.

it’s close to half past three when sleep starts to take over, words slurring and giggles softer as you take in the moonlight and delicacy of the moment, and in that second you’re sure to be content even if geto wasn’t yours, seeing him like this.

tearing open your last packet of snacks, you two sit (rather he’s sitting and you’re lying on his pillow) in comfortable silence. it’s not long before geto’s eyes can’t leave you and it’s like that day in the room all over again: the fan whirring softly, the creatures of the night going to sleep, the whoosh of the water travelling through the pipes, none of these are compelling enough to pull away from the effect of your name through his lips.

in the dark of the night, in the kiss of the rays of the moon, your beauty is unmatched, physique still so accentuated even with the oversized shirt you wear and the allure of your position just takes his breath away. geto isn’t sure whether it’s the tiredness or your finger leaving goosebumps along his tattoo, but he closes the gap until you’re an inch away, not before sparing a glance towards your brother who’s knocked out cold.

“do you know what you do to me?” your older brother’s best friend whispers, and your chest heaves in anticipation. your finger has switched to two, to three, and then to palm as your hand travels up his shirt sleeve. the skin underneath is hot, matching yours. you shake your head with feigned innocence as his hand closes into a fist beside you, gripping onto his sheets like it would do anything.

“why don’t you show me, suguru?” and all restraints that geto had before were instantly broken, muttering out a soft can i kiss you? before he finally indulges in everything that he’s ever dreamed about.

the hands that were holding back cup your face gently, and his body relaxes over you. it’s exactly like how he imagined and more, being able to at last feel the way your lips and body submit to him. a small whimper leaves your mouth when he pulls away, admiring the plump of your lips and the slight lustre of saliva on them.

he hums before leaning in to kiss you again, meeting your lips harshly as his hands travel to your waist. he’s pleasantly surprised when you switch the positions, leg going over to straddle him while your lips are still locked. air becomes scarce with the effort, forcing the two of you to break apart with short breaths.

“say my name again,” geto’s voice sends shivers through you, and whatever confidence you had just a second ago fades away when his chest vibrates under his sentence.

“suguru,” you whisper over him, the cute little pendant he bought for you dangling over his face — he swears he cannot wait to hear his name from your lips the next time and he has to close his eyes to compose himself until he tugs lightly at you, possibly to get you ready for bed.

“don’t w’nna…” you murmur, cheeks burning, your core aching and his half-hard bulge under you, as you bury your head in his neck. geto chuckles at your sudden shyness and it takes everything not to grind into you, larger palms stroking your waist as he plants small, quick pecks over the side of your head. he’s content to wait and enjoy the softer moments. “just want to stay here with you.”

“yeah?” geto sucks in another breath when you emerge from your hiding place, messy hair shaping your face and eyes so so flawlessly and he tries not to say the familiar three words. he brings you down for another slower kiss, faintly muttering the words against your lips like he’s thought of doing many times before.

“we can stay here as long as you want, baby.”

part 2

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findafight · 1 year

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Okay I kept thinking about this post and Steve being a BNF of Corroded Coffin message board of the internet of yore.

Alright so way back in the nineties Suzie hooks everyone up with the internet, yes? Yes. Eddie and Steve got together in '92 after some mutual pining and a few disastrous relationships that couldn't handle 1) Steve and Robin's general QPR clinginess 2) Eddie's intensity 3) the secrecy required if having multiple years of monster fighting and subsequent NDAs and the trauma associated therein. They're older and more settled and ready for an Adult Relationship.

Corroded Coffin is gaining traction and doing really well and the internet is still a brave new frontier, so Steve says to Eddie something like "I'm going to see if there's some message boards about you 🥰" and find them he sure does. So he makes accounts and posts under the username EddiesOnlyGroupie because he's hilarious and also the mods banned him from using EddieMunsonsHusband (he figured it was fine on the internet because nobody actually knew who he was but APPARENTLY NOT homophobia lives on in the digital age). He gets pretty well known in the Corroded Coffin fandom, most assuming he's a woman because he will go off on how hot Eddie looked at a gig. Like. Saying unhinged internet shit because 1) true and 2) he and Eddie think it's so funny. Everyone kinda believes the groupie thing too because of all the performance pics he's able to post and how he'll sometimes offer tidbits if knowledge about the band.

When they transition from chatrooms to livejournal etc he follows, with the same username. He's kind of a legend by the mid aughts. EOG is the acronym people use when discussing theories on his identity, and he's like "guys I'm literally his only groupie it's self explanatory. Guys why don't you believe me Eddie hasn't slept with anyone but me since 1992. We're basically married". He goes "it's not a mystery we literally are in love and Jeff and I go to Cubs games and cry when they inevitably lose together. Gareth is Godfather to my cats" (Eddie is still offended that he was not named Sassafras and Moonshine's godfather when Steve and Robin adopted them in '89). No one believes him.

Possibly because he still thirsts after Eddie and whenever someone posts a new Eddie pic those in the know wait for him to pop up with comments like "I want to bite his neck omg" "he has no ass but nobody is perfect I'll settle between his thighs anyway" and "literally a crime I am not married to him right now what the fuck" As twitter grows he swoops in to grab his handle, and follows a bunch of other CC fan accounts (some of them old friends, some of them new to the scene)(EOG 100% has his own fanlore page, which also has speculation on who he is and how he gets all the bts pics. It also doesn't believe when he says what it says on the tin. He's Eddie's only groupie.)

tumblr and tiktok come round and Steve is like. Openly horny on main. He's seen some shit go down on the internet but he's still commenting on Eddie fan edits that are title shit like "why am I attracted to this middle-aged white man" and "retro cc fancam" with things like "I'd let him lick the inside of my ear and only bring it up to tease him on special occasions" "his FINGERS" "back in '89 Jeff and Howie and Claire staged a mutany over this song because they were 'sick of Eddie only writing about biting bats' lmao" and "Jeff is my favourite member of cc"(just to stir the pot)

Eddie comes out in the 2010's and he's like "yeah I've been in a long term relationship with someone who is usually mostly a man kinda (gender is fucky) for the past twenty years, lol. His name's Steve. I love him a lot even if he mocks me online." and of course EOG comments "the mods of that old message board should have let me keep my original handle of EddieMunsonsHusband. When're you gonna make it reality, Munson? smh" and everyone is like Huh?? EOG is a MAN? And he's like yeah? Sometimes?? Not always?

(He 100% thinks this is him telling people he's Eddie's Steve. They don't get the message)

Anyways life goes on Steve continues to thirst under pictures of Eddie, he has his pronouns and name in his bio on twitter (Steve, he/him, she/her, Eddie Munson's first and only groupie 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️ ) and continues to post behind the scenes photos that shockingly few people question (she always says "because I'm his groupie" though. He and Eddie think this is VERY funny and also true. Robin groans. They've been making the same joke for two decades.) and people believe it because Eddie has interacted EOG sometimes, liking photos or videos, commenting sometimes. (Steve has a more professional realname account that he rarely uses but Eddie usually tags Steve there)

And THEN Internet user EddiesOnlyGroupie says he's taking a few weeks off for her honeymoon because "I'm finally marrying the man of my dreams!" And people are happy for him but also bummed because Eddie is also taking a two week hiatus but EOG promises wedding and honeymoon photos. (Face reveal! Sorta!)((he doesn't get why people are excited because he's pretty sure he's been in a lot of Eddie's recent pictures, but whatever)

Imagine the Internet's surprise when Eddie Munson posts a collection of pictures spanning '86 to his 2016 wedding of him and Steve, including one of Steve looking seriously at an old desktop computer, captioned "Steve starting his internet career" and tags EOG.

Steve qrt with "I told yall. I'm his only groupie, and they should've let me keep EddieMunsonsHusband even if they WERE homophobic. Because now it's TRUE"

Niche internet community drama chaos ensues.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #rockstar eddie munson #rockstar!eddie #cc bnf steve #stranger things #this is cleaned up from a version i word vomited in a discord group lol #also Sassafras and Moonshine are steve and Robin's rescue cats they got when they went to adopt one but then found out they were bonded #and stobin had already agreed that theyd eventually get two cats and call them sassafras and moonshine after Stone Soul Picnic #so when faced with platonic soulmate Cat Edition with the names they already wanted. it was a sign.#finda's rambles #finda writes stuff #genderqueer steve harrington

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autlantic · 1 year

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. • TRUTH OR DARE

BILL KAULITZ X READER

summary: being the opening act for tokio hotel entails a lot of alcohol and a lot of bad decisions.

warnings: alcohol, all your basic smut features

a/n: HELLO ALL !! this is my first time writing in over a year so this is a bit shabby, but we’re all in our kaulitz twins phase atm so worth it <3 feel free to send me prompts, i’ll write a lil drabble

. • . • .

Somehow, every night after touring ended up like this.

You, the opening act for tokio hotel, and the rest of the band sat round with an unhealthy amount of alcohol, playing the most stupid drinking games imaginable.

“Let’s play truth or dare.” You suggested, leaning back into the plush seats of the luxury hotel room. Playing Gustav’s card games had led to one two many arguments; mainly between the oh so competitive Bill and Tom.

“What about truth or drink? Or dare or drink? Truth or dare or drink even!” Bill chimed in, manicured hands reaching eagerly for the bottle of vodka set out in front of him.

Looking around, everyone nodded in agreement at the suggestion. Bill continued.

“Alright then, Gustav, truth or dare?”

The boy in question sighed, taking a large swig of his beer before answering. “Truth.”

“Is it true you’ve only slept with two fans this whole tour?”

You couldn’t help but giggle at Bill’s invasive question. Tom had girls in every night- you could hear them through the walls which was a massive pain and pretty gross- but as far as you knew Gustav wasn’t as interested in the groupies.

“Yeah, only two.” The drummer replied, causing an uproar of laughter from the rest of the band. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling at their childish antics.

As the game continued, the alcohol started diminishing. Tom had gone streaking down the hallway, Georg had been ding-dong ditching and all of you were completely wasted.

Finally, it had come to your turn.

“Okay… our favourite girl, truth or dare?” Tom asked, staring you down as if to challenge you. You leaned forwards, answering with a simple “Dare.”

Seeing as it was Tom asking, this probably wasn’t the best decision; he had a devious look in his eyes that made you instantly regret your decision.

“I dare you…” He started, spinning his lip piercing in thought as everyone waited intently. “To take a piece of clothing off every time someone drinks.” The dreadlocked boy finished, smirking proudly at his dare. Bill clapped in glee until you sent him a teasing glare. Before you could even respond, both twins had taken a large sip of their drinks.

“That’s not fair!” You exclaimed, pointing accusingly at the two, “Surely it’s only one item if you both drink at once!” Your complaints were ignored, met only with a chant of ‘take it off! take it off!’. Looking down at what you were wearing, you cursed yourself for having already removed your shoes. Thinking for a moment, you removed one of the necklaces hanging round your neck, Bill uttering a sound of protest.

“That doesn’t count as clothes, love.”

“You’re all pervs.” You teased, slowly starting to unbutton and unzip your jeans instead. Tom let out a wolf whistle as you slid the material down your legs, revealing the skimpy piece of black lace you’d thrown on this morning before knowing you’d be on display. Jeans were the safest option to remove seeing as you’d gone braless under your shirt. Now stood in your (barely there) underwear in front of a group of staring boys, it was time for some revenge.

“Bill, truth or dare?” You spoke, eyeing up the handsome singer. “My eyes are up here by the way.”

Bill slowly moved his eyes from the soft skin of your thighs and stomach up to your waiting eyes. God, they were all shameless.

“Dare.”

“I dare you to kiss the most attractive person in the room.” You smirked, shameless yourself thanks to the ungodly amounts of alcohol you’d consumed in the last hour. You leaned slightly against the wall behind you, eyes narrowed expectantly at he gazed at you in surprise.

Jumping to his feet, Bill practically fell over himself rushing up to you, grabbing you by the hips before smothering his lips over yours. The kiss was wet, and you could taste the vodka on his breath as he pushed his tongue into your mouth eagerly. His fingers, nails painted black, gripped your hips and waist firmly as you pulled at his loose and for once not styled black hair. A moment later you were pulling apart, pupils dilated and gasping for breath.

“Well that’s just not fair.”

Glancing over, you fought back a laugh at the jealous expression painted across Tom’s features. His eyebrows were furrowed, arms crossed over his chest. He’d been watching.

It was a bit of an unspoken rule that you didn’t get with any of the boys; if anyone caught you, their opening act, in an intimate position with a band member, you’d both be in big trouble from management.

“Where’s my kiss, baby?” He continued, pouting and leaning towards you for a kiss. You threw a pillow at him, causing Georg and Gustav to fall over laughing. Bill still seemed shell shocked and followed you over to the sofa like a lost puppy.

“Shit, it’s almost 2am. We should probably get some sleep.” Georg spoke, checking his watch. There was a lot of travelling to be done the next day. Gustav nodded in agreement, standing up and starting to grab his things. The two more sensible boys headed out, not without a quip of “don’t have too much fun without us!”

You turned to Tom, and he threw the pillow right back at you. “Get out of my room lovebirds.” He snickered, laughing at Bill’s pink flush. You smiled and pinched his cheek, causing him to slap your hand away playfully.

“Come on, Billy.”

Bill grabbed your hand, pulling you through the door and into the hallway. Once the door was shut, he pushed you roughly against the wall, brushing a piece of hair out of your face.

“You’re such a tease, you know that?” He spoke lowly, his brown eyes darkening as he trailed his thumb from your cheek to your lower lip, slipping it inside your mouth. Surprised at his boldness, you sucked softly on his finger, the cold metal of the rings he had on sending shockwaves right through you. He shuddered, withdrawing his finger after a few seconds and dragging you across the hall to his room. You suddenly felt all too conscious of your lack of clothing, your jeans still lying somewhere on Tom’s floor.

Once the door was shut, Bill’s lips were against yours once more, the warmth of his body pressed up against yours as the kiss grew heated and his hands began to roam across your flushed skin. Barely separating as the two of you stumbled over to his bed, you pushed aside any thoughts of possible consequences and focused on his mouth. Your legs opened automatically as he climbed on top of you, his tongue exploring the delicate skin of your neck as a breathy moan left your lips.

“Fuck, we shouldn’t be doing this.” He muttered, hands pulling at the fabric of your shirt.

“I don’t care.” You whined in response, letting him pull the fabric off of your body, revealing you to him.

His soft brown eyes gazed at your exposed skin, painted fingernails trailing soft lines across your skin leaving goosebumps in their wake. You pawed at his belt, Bill moving back slightly so you could undo the buckle with shaking hands. Pulling his shirt off, the singers lips attached to yours once again as he trailed his hands to the hem of your underwear.

He dipped one finger below the lacey fabric, smirking as you to pushed your hips into his hands desperately. Hearing your whimper of ‘please’, he finally pushed your underwear to the side, thumb pressing directly against your sensitive nub. You whined as he began drawing small circles, wetness seeping from you as your head fell back against the pillows. Without warning, Bill slid a finger inside your slick walls, drawing out a moan that made him grin. “Shh, baby. Don’t want anyone to hear you do we?” He cooed, adding a second finger and picking up speed as you tried to keep quiet. You could hear the slick sounds of his fingers as he curled them upwards, causing you to call out his name desperately.

Feeling pleasure build up inside you, you reached to palm him through his jeans, causing his motions to stutter. You whined as he pulled away, but watched on as he began to pull off the only layers separating you from what you really wanted. Eyes wide, you gazed as he pulled down his boxers, cock springing free and hitting his stomach. It was long, oozing precum and you couldn’t help but reach to grab it, slowly stroking his member as his eyes screwed shut in content.

“Please, Bill.” You begged, wrapping your arms round his neck to pull him closer, gasping slightly as you felt his cock press against the opening of your heat. For a moment, you both pause as desire permeates the air in the hotel room.

Pulling back for a split second, Bill pushes the head of his cock into your entrance, groaning at the feeling of the hot velvet surrounding him. Pushing forward further, you cry out as he buries his cock all the way in, legs shaking around his hips as he brushes your most sensitive spots. Withdrawing slightly, he suddenly bullies his cock back inside, picking up a pace that leaves you breathless and writhing.

“God you feel so good.” He groans, one hand gripping your hip as the other moves to your clit, adding a new dimension to the pleasure taking over your body.

Bill’s hips stutter, his grunts and moans becoming more frequent.

“Inside.” You manage to get out, lips parted and brows furrowed as you near your orgasm.

He falters at your words, spilling inside of you as his head falls to your shoulder. A loud moan spills from your lips as the combined feeling of his fingers and being filled so deeply push you over the edge, orgasm crashing over you like a tsunami.

A solid five minutes pass, the two of you still curled up against each other before he finally pulls out, cum dripping against the inside of your thighs.

“Sorry.” He grins, pulling you against his bare chest and burying his face in your hair. You flush pink, this somehow feeling much more intimate than hooking up itself.

“No you’re not.” You giggle, cozying into him and ignoring the consequences of the morning.

“No i’m not.”

#tokio hotel #bill kaulitz #tom kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz smut #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel smut #kaulitz twins #kaulitz twins x reader #kaulitz twins smut

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oh-koenig-my-koenig · 5 months

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(to the tune of Avril Lavigne's sk8terboi)

He was a human battering ram.

She was a recon sniper.

Can I make it any more obvious?

Headcannons - Fit for a King - König x fem!OC fanfic

Instead of making a y/n fic, I decided to create an original female character because I ususally write all of my stuff in POVs. Due to posting the chapters often right after I've written them some of the context and the characterization might not be explicit in every single piece, some of the information is only gonna get revealed down the road.

(TW: alcoholism, death, violence)

Karina Müller is almost 30 years old, she served in the Norwegian military from right after school until the death of her brother who was KIA on a mission together. She fell off the wagon after that, feeling responsible for his death and effectively being shunned by her family after that. Her pick of poison was alcohol and it got so bad that she more than once was drunk on the job which led to her getting kicked out.

The years after that she spent getting help, trying to get clean and going back to a civilian life, but the military was what she knew, so the civilian jobs didn't stick and she started to work as a mercenary, now a dry alcoholic. Which might be an issue for some contractors, but KorTac doesn't really bat an eye.

She's a compassionate person who loves to laugh, she's seen enough shit not to take any from her teammates and can stand her ground when faced with any challenge thrown her way. She's still working through some stuff, coming to terms with her past, but she has an optimistic spirit and a strong will.

Even though the Colonel seems scary at first, she learns pretty quickly that he is to be respected in training and on the battlefield, but on a personal level he's really not that bad. The 6'10'' killing machine, Austrian war criminal (insert "what murdeeer?!"-meme here) is quite an anxious person when it comes to basic human interaction.

Shouting orders at his team, stomping his enemies into the ground is more comfortable to him than just talking about mundane stuff with other people, he mostly keeps to himself (except for Horangi because that little shit would never leave him alone). And for the first time in a long time, Müller makes him wish that he could just go up to people and strike up a normal conversation like a normal person (don't we all).

König is 38 years old (we don't know his full name) and has the biggest metalhead dad vibes without actually having any children himself (his favourite band is Death, although he listens to a bunch of different ones, it's also their merch shirt Müller steals in "Are you wearing my t-shirt?").

When he started out in the military, he shaved his long metalhead hair off because that was the way to go back then, but he let it grow back when he was older and already Colonel. He has gauged ears and a plethora of tattoos all over his body because the soft pain of body modifications and working out until he almost passes out are his ways of dealing with his anxiety and stress. His body is a testament to that.

He has a huge scar on the right side of his face from when he got beaten to a pulp by his bullies at school, something he never let happen again after that (five on one was really unfair). His nose has been broken two times and sometimes his tattoos get destroyed by battle injuries, but he doesn't really care about that - or his looks in general. He's a soldier and not a model.

So the reason why he's always wearing the selfmade hood is not the scar. He prefers not to show his feelings to others, staying hidden underneath the mask for his own comfort, even if it makes him scarier also in situations where he doesn't want to be.

(CW: some nsfw headcannons ahead, talk about not wanting to have children) They're both switches, though König is leaning more on the Dom-side while Müller is a sub who likes to brat a little too much, just to see her man falter (for example when she calls him a good boy in random scene #1).

Müller is bisexual, something she discovered when serving in an all-women-taskforce of the Norwegian military (we don't really know about König's sexuality though). She decided a long time ago that she doesn't want to have children (she doesn't see herself leaving service again anytime soon and given her past, she doesn't see herself fit to become a mother), so she got her tubes tied. Which also comes in handy when a certain Colonel's favourite pasttime (well, actually second favourite) is leaving creampies inside her (no 'unexpected pregnancy' trope in this household).

König definitely eats pussy for his own pleasure, begging Müller to let him eat her out in "Sit" or losing a little friendly competition for a sexual favour in "But no funny business" (oh and he definitely steals her panties at any chance he gets). She's totally not opposed to servicing him as well, but the size of his dick makes this a whole endeavour (like seen in "Open wide, Prinzessin").

They match each other's energy pretty well, just going at it like rabbits at every chance they get, which sometimes proves to be difficult as they're sneaking around in secret.

Their arrangement is kind of a fuckbuddy/fwb-situation, they fuck hard and rough, without ever really kissing (the mask stays on), but after a while feelings start to get in the way... After all they do belong together <3

Read more at the Fit for a King - Masterlist or keep an eye out for the AO3 link - coming soon.

#könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig mw2 #könig x fmc #könig fanfiction #cod mw2 smut #könig smut #konig smut #cod smut #female oc

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imnotavamp1r3 · 20 days

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♡ How to make your room more emo/scene! ♡

I'm not allowed to decorate my room much so this post is basically just things I would do to my room if I could.

🎀 Display your favourite clothing items

Whether it be your favourite band shirt or hoodie, displaying your favourite clothes on mannequins or by hanging them on a hanger in your room can add a lot to it.

🎀 Get some cool bedding

Your bed is pretty much the most important part of your room, so if you're decorating your room, you should absolutely make an effort to make your bed look good too. Pink leopard print, Monster High, Skelanimals, Emily The Strange, Ruby Gloom, Nightmare Before Christmas, Hello Kitty, Tokidoki, or just plain black bedding are some examples

🎀 Cute plushies

I am personally of the belief that everyone should own plushies, so they're definitely very important to decorating a room as well. Gloomy Bear, Skelanimals, Tokidoki, and Invader Zim plushies are good choices, and stores like Killstar and Vampirefreaks also have some really cute ones.

🎀 Display albums if you have them

If you have CDs, you can put them on a shelf. If you have vinyls, you can display the records or the album sleeves on your wall and use them as wall art.

🎀 Posters

Anything that shows your interests is always a great way to make your room unique. Most music stores also sell posters, so you could find some band posters there or you can print your own posters if you have a good printer.

That's it, byeee!!! ˚｡⋆୨୧˚♡

#emo #girlblogging #scene #pink scene #scemo #scenemo #scene queen #rawring 20s #rawr xd #emo scene #emo girl #2000s emo #emo blog #2000s scene #emo kid #scene emo

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sibelin · 2 months

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How to find new goth music that you'll love : a silly tutorial for people wanting to find new dark songs to obsess about.

Okay so following my last post, I'm going to do a tiny tutorial on how I find new goth/post-punk/darkwave/etc music and bands with only two tools : Internet and a bit of free time. I can guarantee it's worth it, especially if you want to invest yourself more into the subculture. Supporting new and active bands is a must if you want to see the goth genre flourish.

(Sorry in advance, most the screenshots will be in french. And if there's typos, my bad. I did my best but english is not my native language!)

the "Similar Artists" feature.

Probably one of the easiest way to find bands similar to the one you already like is using a website that will give you similar artists. This feature is a common one on listening plateforms like Spotify (left) or Last.fm (right). I tend to prefer the Last.fm one because you can see what genres the artists are tagged with. This gives you way more informations about the band, its influences and why it's in the similar artist section in the first place. You can also click on these tags to find other bands or, even better, repeat the process with the newer bands you find to delve deeper down the rabbit hole!

Both these exemples are "similar bands" found on the Boy Harsher page.

2. Playlists and sets

This one sounds obvious but it's one of the most efficient method to find new music without putting too much work into it. The only thing you have to keep in mind is to be precise with your keywords. For exemple, if you want to find new goth music but don't like EBM, you'll have to type your research with keywords like "gothrock", "deathrock" or "synthpop" "darkwave", etc....

Personally, there is two plateforms that I use fairly often for this purpose but I'm pretty sure it exists on every listening plateforms, so feel free to use the one you prefer. For me, it's Youtube and Spotify. I tend to prefer Youtube because it's more like a DJ set, with someone picking a limited amount of songs and new releases and sharing them like every few months. There are several accounts that do this, you just have to keep an eye out for them.

The images featured are the first playlists that pop up when I type "goth 2024" and "post-punk 2024" in the mentionned plateforms.

Keep in mind that you won't like everything and that you can skip the songs until you find one that makes you bop your head dracula style.

3. Music labels and samplers

We're entering a more niche category with this one. So, you really like a band and want to find something similar or, at least, something with the same qualities (be it the level of production, the subgenres explored, etc). Well, labels can help you! A music label is a production or publishing company that usually have several bands to manage. Some bands, of course, do everything by themselves but for the others, it's a GREAT way to find new similar music.

You can find the labels by looking at a band's website, social media or, even more efficiently, by looking at the records themselves. Usually, the label name/logo is somewhere on the cover. When you find it, you can simply type the name of the label and find the artists that are associated with it.

A lot of labels have a strong presence on Bandcamp and do "samplers". These are basically playlists featuring the artists they publish. If you don't want to click on every artists one at a time, you can simply listen to a sampler and see if anything is interesting you before going further.

The images I have used are both labels that are producing goth, darkwave and ebm music. The first one is Artoffact records (ACTORS, Cevin Key's solo work, etc...) and the second is AVANT! records (Buzz Kull, Blind Seagull, etc...)

4. Touring bands and opening acts

GREAT! One of your favourite band is touring. Maybe it's a big band, a classic goth staple, or maybe it's a tinier band you already enjoy. Either way, it will probably have an opening act, maybe several depending on the dates. When I see a band I like announcing gigs, I usually check the other bands that are following them in the tour. They can be less famous or they can even be local bands sometimes. No matter if you can attend the event or not, this is a good way to stay in touch with the scene and what's being played in venues. You can also just check the scheduled dates in goth or post-punk venues, nearby or far away.

The big plus of doing this is seeing the amazing art some tour posters feature (illustraded here by Buzzkull/Kontravoid and Rue Oberkampf). If you follow bands or venues on Instagram (and other social media where bands actually post), they are seen fairly often in tour and dates announcements. You can also check tour dates on several websites like Songkick, Bandsintown, etc.... I always prefer following the bands and venues themselves, though.

5. Webzines (and other internet tools) We're going even more niche with webzines, something that will probably disappear in a couple of years but that thankfully still exist nowadays. Basically, a webzine is just like a magazine/fanzine but online. By looking up the right keywords, or even looking at webzines focused on alternative music in your area, you might find a great ressource not only to find new music but also to find gigs and events related to the subculture. I'd advise everyone to broaden their horizons when looking for webzines : as an exemple, the one i use fairly often to find gigs in my area is not only goth related. it's more of an underground culture thing which leads me to find non-goth events that I could enjoy too!

Of course, Webzines are only a little part of the iceberg. I am sure there are plenty of facebook groups, blogs, forums and newsletter that basically lead you to find the same kind of informations. On this side, you have to be ressourceful depending on where you live, what is the culture around you and also how safe it is for you to navigate in these spaces.

6. Word-to-Mouth, mutuals, etc... At last, we are lucky enough to be on a website that allows everyone to share links like Spotify, Bandcamp and so on. There are several accounts dedicated to share goth music. For exemple, there is @nugothrhythms who share modern and newer goth sounds or the more recent @gothlisteningclub which is a great way to discover and listen to goth albums you've never heard of. I won't plug my own sideblog but you know, do your research, find mutuals that actually put a bit of work into sharing music! And, of course, feel free to do the same! I hope this little tutorial can help some people to find new music. The internet is a fabulous tool to keep subcultures alive. If you put a little work into it, you'll soon discover great bands and maybe even find a few gigs to attend. Remember, stay curious, don't limit yourself and always expend your horizons with art! Feel free to add anything that can help people finding new goth or post-punk music : blogs, playlists, etc!

#here it is!! took me a while but i wanted to do a nice banner and polish everything :)#long post #gothgoth #goth #goth music #post punk #coldwave #synthpop #alternative #alternative music

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asumofwords · 8 months

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The Sublet - Roommate!AU

Warnings: She/her pronouns, slow burn, angst. Tags will be added as the fic goes along. Fighting, Aemond being an asshole, fingering, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, degradation, hair pulling, spanking, daddy kink.

Pairings: Modern!Aemond x Reader

Summary: Living with Helaena Targaryen was one of the best decisions you had ever made. Meeting at university, the two of you became thick as thieves and quickly best friends, moving into a flat together. But what will happen when Helaena has to leave, and her quiet, brooding, brother moves in?

Notes: Okay so, two things. I should preface this by telling you all that Harold Holt was an Australian Prime Minister who went swimming and never came back. It was assumed he drowned, or got eaten by sharks, or if you want to go with the more fun conspiracy theories, got abducted in a submarine. But to do a Harold Holt is basically to do a runner, no show, disappearance with no word, smoke bomb, etc. Hope you get it now lol. Secondly, the song Aemond is listening to is from one of my longtime fav bands who I got to see live! The song is ‘Kletka - Molchat Doma’ and its such a vibe, anyway, thanks for your patience on the update! Its a long ass chapter because I don't know how to stop.... Enjoy <3

Chapter 6: Lapse in Judgement

Waking up the next morning was something that you had dreaded the moment you ran and hid in your room, diving beneath your sheets as your heart raced and your core throbbed.

Your fingers had grazed your lips, sensitive from the bruising kiss he had pulled you into.

Fuck.

You had kissed Aemond.

And Aemond had kissed you.

You had felt the phantom feeling of his fingers on your core and had tossed and turned all night, desperately trying to ignore the heartbeat that settled between your thighs and the mounting anxiety that followed.

What would Helaena say?

When you woke that morning, the turning of your stomach began almost immediately, anxiety winding its way higher and higher, palms sweating, knowing that you would have to face the music and exit your room.

A small headache had formed behind your eyes from the alcohol, but it was barely noticeable in comparison to your racing thoughts. Or perhaps the cause for your headache was the conundrum you now found yourself in.

Note to self, no more Porn Star Martinis if a handsome and brooding man was in your apartment.

You dressed, and ran to the bathroom, noticing Aemond’s door was open.

When you looked at yourself in the mirror, there were bags beneath your eyes, and your hair a mess from tossing and turning all night. You paid careful attention to concealing the dark shadows and fixing your hair before you took a steady breath and exited the loo.

You expected Aemond to be gone for his morning run as he usually was, as the creature of habit he seemed to be, door open and all that, but nope, fate had other plans for you. Aemond stood, in his over six foot glory in the kitchen, mug in his hands as he looked out the window. He was dressed in his running gear, grey shirt today and his hair was down, cascading over his shoulders, strands tucked neatly behind his ears.

On your approach, he lifted his head to look at you.

You swallowed dryly, feet stumbling slightly against the floor boards as you made your way over, heat rising in your cheeks. You were mortified, and beyond that, ashamed.

Ashamed of who it was.

Ashamed of how you had acted.

Ashamed that it was Helaena’s brother.

And ashamed that you had liked it.

You had to tear your face away from his gaze, diverting your eyes to the floor as you made your way over, picking up the kettle to make yourself your morning tea. You didn’t greet him verbally, too unsure of what to do, and so you gave him a soft nod.

A sliding sound caught your attention.

You took your eyes from the sink, and beside you on the bench, Aemond had pushed with two knuckles a mug of tea towards you.

It was your favourite mug, and it looked like he had managed to make it perfectly.

You blinked up at him, putting the kettle back in its holder and reaching for the tea. Your fingers grazed over his momentarily, heart racing as you took the mug from him. Warmth spread through your chest and you swallowed.

“I’m sorry.” You breathed, picking up the mug to your lips, “I, uh,” You let out an awkward chuckle, “I think I had one too many martini’s last night.” Another awkward laugh, and then the words didn’t stop, Oh god, “Sara took me to this new bar, and it was so cool, it actually reminded me a bit of you. We had one drink aft-“

“-Don’t worry about it.” Aemond interrupted your anxious rambling, his cool gaze on you, face blank.

You nodded and sipped at the tea.

Your heart raced in your chest.

It was perfect.

“Thanks for the tea. And for dealing with me last night.” Another awkward laugh, you lifted the mug towards him.

Aemond hummed, looking away to sip at his coffee, the strong smell of the beans surrounding you.

You stood together in the quiet of the kitchen, awkward energy surrounding the both of you before he set down his empty mug. He stepped closer, his chest almost bushing yours. Your breath caught in your throat as his hand reached forward.

And then over you to turn on the sink, a small ‘excuse me’ falling from his lips as he rinsed his mug and placed it into the dishwasher.

Your cheeks felt hot and you sucked in a shaky breath.

Aemond didn’t speak another word, and turned away from you, heading towards the front door as he pulled out his AirPods and placed them in his ears. He disappeared down the hall, and the last thing you heard was the keys being pulled out of the dish, and the door opening and closing.

You let the breath you had been holding in out in one big gust. Hand moving to rub at your neck awkwardly.

What the fuck was that?

The day droned on as it would with Larys hovering over your shoulder as usual. It didn’t help that you had not heard a word from Gwayne Hightower, and were swamped with endless calls from investors and clients whom he had meetings with and didn’t show.

“Do you know where Gwayne is?” You leant over your desk, looking to the one next to yours, a solicitor names Jasper Wylde watching at you with steely eyes.

His curly hair shifted as he turned to face you, dark beard trimmed perfectly against his chin, “No clue. He may be at the magistrates office. Got a text from Tyland this morning saying that something went down at the case this morning.”

You sighed loudly, leaning back in your chair, “That’s the last thing we need. How come Tyland texted you and not me? I’ve got calls coming out of my ass from angry and disgruntled clients about Gwayne missing their meetings.”

Jasper shrugged, “You know what Tyland is like, useless at the best of times.”

You snorted and rolled back to your desk.

Jasper was nice, stiff, but nice.

He took his job very seriously, and Tyland Lannister often called him Ironrod as a joke. Though he was older and a complete professional, it didn’t stop him from sending an occasional flirty glance your way, or rise of his dark brows.

Recently divorced.

You knew he had had four wives, all ending in divorce, and multiple kids with each one. You didn’t know how he had the time to support them all, let alone spend time with them. But he did, and you had been surprised when you first started and saw the pictures pinned to his cubicle of all his kids.

There was, at the very least, ten.

Ironrod might be more fitting for something else.

By the time the day ended, you had slumped in your chair, sighing loudly as you packed away your things. You turned to look at Jasper who was still working.

He never followed the clock ‘off at five’ rule you had, and would often stay behind to get everything perfect.

A real stickler for law.

You walked to the train station and jumped on the next one that rolled slowly into the subway. On your way home, your anxiety flared again. You hadn’t even answered Helaena’s texts asking about how you were and how Aemond was. Each time your fingers hovered over the notification a wave of guilt would crash over you.

You didn’t even know how to respond to it. What could you say? ‘Everything is great! It’s super awkward, but so fine. By the way, did I mention that I almost let your brother take me against the kitchen bench? Haha, anyway, how are you?’

You shuddered at even the thought of telling her yet.

Stopping at the grocery store, you decided to pick up some things you knew you were running low on, as well as grabbing the ingredients you needed to make dinner with for the night.

What you hadn’t expected when you arrived home, was the smell of cooking food filling the apartment and the sound of sizzling vegetables coming from the stove, ‘Kletka - Molchat Doma’ streaming out of your speaker. You chucked your keys in the dish atop Aemond’s and kicked off your shoes, shuffling to the kitchen.

He stood facing the stove, hair pulled back in a low and messy bun, shorter strands tucked behind his ears.

The tall man had changed out of his running gear, and was in a black t-shirt and some black dickies cuffed at the bottom, large black Doc Martins tied tightly on his feet.

You watched as his shoulders spread, muscles rippling beneath his shirt as he cooked, the smell of spices filling the kitchen and lounge room.

It smelt so good that your mouth watered.

Aemond effortlessly flipped food in a pan, arm tight and tensed, veins visible on his pale skin as he worked. It was almost enchanting watching him cook, and your stomach did a flip as you gazed, warmth spreading into your gut.

“You going to stand and watch the whole time?”

You tensed, and sheepishly cleared your throat, “What are you cooking?” You walked over to stand next to him, his eye slipping to you from the corner of his eye as he continued to flip and stir the food.

“Dinner.”

You snorted, “I can see that.” You turned away and began to put your groceries and things away, opening the fridge to see that it was already full.

Aemond had gone grocery shopping.

“Do you eat meat?” He asked, chucking in some before you answered.

“Yea, I do.”

He hummed, flicking a finger out to turn the speaker down slightly so he could hear you better. He reached above him and pulled down two bowls, stirring the dinner again in the saucepan before he flicked it over into the two bowls.

He spun and gave you one, turning the speaker off.

Aemond made you dinner.

“Oh, thanks.” You uttered, taking the bowl from his hands before digging into the cutlery draw to pull out two forks.

Aemond hummed again, grabbing a fork from your hand as he turned the stove off and grabbed his own bowl, moving to the couch to eat. You followed after him, still in your work clothes and sat on the opposite end of the couch, feeling static energy between you both.

He flicked on the tv and began eating, dropping his phone on the table face down. You followed and began eating, watching some show about dragons and royalty.

The dinner was amazing.

You even groaned audibly as you ate.

Aemond was a good cook.

“This is amazing.” You complimented him, shoving another forkful into your mouth, flavour exploding on your tongue.

Aemond hummed in acknowledgement.

“Who taught you to cook like this?”

“Helaena.” He smiled.

“Of course she did.” You chuckled, feeling the tension between you begin to dissolve.

This was fine.

You could pretend nothing happened.

He totally didn't have you pressed against the kitchen bench with his finger on your cunt last night.

“How was work?” He turned his head to you, eye concentrated on your face, watching your reaction.

You groaned, “Shit. Gwayne did a Harold Holt and left me to clean up the mess.”

Aemond’s brows frowned, “Harold Holt?”

You flicked your hand in dismissal, “Australian Prime Minister. Anyway, absolute nightmare of a day, so thanks for dinner. I was thinking after I got groceries I would just come home and make some noodles.”

Aemond smirked, and your stomach fluttered at the sight, “I got groceries too.”

You smirked back, “I saw that. Thanks by the way. Great minds do think alike.”

The coffee table buzzed from Aemond’s phone, once, twice, three times in succession. You watched as a long arm reached out to press the silence button, dropping it back onto the table with a huff.

You polished off your dinner, watching the show together.

“Why doesn’t she just take her dragons to the castle and kill everyone?” You watched the silver haired woman on the screen and couldn’t help but think of the man beside you.

“That would mean she kills innocents and proves a point to her enemies that she is cruel like her father.” Aemond mused.

His phone buzzed again.

“But she’s proven that she’s not. If anything, she’s shown restraint and empathy.” You argued, before a large smirk wound on your face, “Now that I look at her, you guys look similar. You’re more brooding though.”

“Brooding again.” Aemond huffed a laugh and you followed.

“Brooding and a chef. You won’t get any complaints from me.” You paused tilting your head and nodded to the screen, “If I was her I’d just kill everyone.”

“Spoken like a true tyrant.”

“Tyrant of this apartment, and this apartment only. Maybe my office cubicle if my boss is being particularly slimy.”

Aemond hummed, “Larys giving you a hard time?”

You grimaced, “When does he not? I don’t know what your mum sees in him.” Aemond nodded in agreement, “At least I don’t work under Tyland Lannister, he would be a nightmare not even I could survive.”

The thought of working under your ex’s brother made your skin crawl, you didn’t even want to think about it.

The table vibrated again, and then again. Aemond snatched up his phone, pale brows frowning as he looked at the screen. His lips twitched and you watched any inkling of the good mood he had been in disappear.

He threw his phone down on the table with more force than needed, the sound causing you to flinch.

“Who’s that? Don’t tell me Aegon’s stuck in some sorority bathroom again.” You tried to lighten the mood, teasing tone in your voice.

Aemond’s cheek twitched and you watched as his hands flexed, “No one.” His voice came out almost like a growl.

You felt a pang of concern for him, “Are you ok?”

Aemond stood abruptly, grabbing his bowl and shoving his phone into his pocket roughly, “Drop it.”

You blinked up at him as he snatched your finished bowl and made his way to the kitchen.

Over the next two days Aemond avoided you completely, leaving early and coming home late, opting to either eat outside of the house or in his room. His avoidance of the apartment came at a great relief as well as a disappointment.

You were back to square one, and you had a sneaking suspicion that his mood came from either his ex or news of his father.

You had finally replied back to Helaena, shooting her an apology and then calling her after to tell her about work and see how she was doing. She sounded a bit shorter than usual, but she told you that being back with the family had been tense, and that her dad was not doing great.

You wished you could console her, hold her and let her cry, but you were stuck in the house with her brother and unable to go to her with the pile of work that was mounting on your desk.

When she had asked about Aemond, your heart had raced in your chest, anxiety peaking as you lied and told her that he was nice enough but rarely home. You didn’t tell her about your kiss in the kitchen, or how his hand had gone up your dress, and guilt ate away at you because of this.

You told yourself you would tell her, but not now. Not with everything else going on in her life. You couldn’t add another pile of flaming shit to the stress she was going through.

You would reap the consequences later.

After the third day had passed of Aemond avoidance of you, you found him in the kitchen that morning where you had found him on Monday, leant against the bench, coffee in hand, and a steaming mug of tea beside him.

An apology.

Or at least, one in his opinion.

He greeted you with a soft and rumbling ‘morning’ before he left to go on his run, leaving you with the tea. You stood leant against the bench and drank the brew that was perfectly steeped to your liking.

Helaena must have told him how you liked it, or maybe he taken a good guess. Either way, you were gladdened for his shite apology and drank it happily.

You went to work and made sure to politely chew Gwayne out with multiple ‘per my last email’s and flooded him with rebooked meetings that were back to back for him to chase up on. He had come to your desk, leaning against it as he watched you and explained the reason for his absence, all the while Jasper pretended to not be listening in.

Gwayne often tried to ‘connect’ with you on a more personal level, but he annoyed you more than anything. He had this air around him that screamed ‘Trad Wife Fantasy’ and you were definitely not one to entertain that. Misogyny seemed to be ripe in the Hightower circles.

When you had got home that evening, Aemond was not, and so you began to heat up leftovers from the night before.

The apartment had felt cold despite the warmth outside, and you realised that the aircon had been left on for likely the whole day. You turned it off, making a note to check it before you leave in the mornings, chucking on an oversized jumper before sitting down to eat.

You flicked on the tv to put a show on and zone out, needing to let your brain turn to mush after the long day, before finishing your meal and putting your dishes in the washer. You were curled up amongst the pillows with your jumper sleeves tucked over your hands when you heard keys be pushed into the door.

Aemond entered the apartment, long silver hair shifting against his back as he sauntered in. His eye dropped to you on the couch and gave you a small nod. You nodded back, greeting him with a small ‘hey’ before going back to watching the television.

Aemond moved about the kitchen to make himself dinner and you scrolled through your phone, wondering if you should reply to Cregan’s text asking if you wanted to go out drinking with him and the boys that weekend.

The couch dipped beside you, Aemond having sat in the centre of the couch, thigh brushing against yours.

“What’re you watching?” He asked, face turned to the tv.

You turned to look at Aemond’s, who’s attention was locked on the screen.

Everything about him was so severe. The way he spoke, the way he moved, the music he listened to, all way to how he interacted with others, and his features reflected it. His nose was long and sharp, and it matched his chin and jaw, his scar slicing through his eye to his cheek.

But his lips were different. They weren’t sharp like the rest of him, they were soft. So soft, and the way he had held you in the kitchen was softer than you had expected he would have been.

You had expected him to grip your neck roughly, whisper in your ear obscenities, shove you backwards into the shelves, and bend you over the bench to wrench your dress over your ass, and d-

His face turned to you as he asked you again, and you swallowed feeling heat rise in your cheeks, “Some show about a zombie apocalypse.” You answered.

Was it hot in here?

Why was it so hot all of a sudden?

Aemond hummed, lifting a long leg to cross over a knee, his thigh hovering above yours, as warmth from his body spread up through you, travelling straight to your gut.

He smelt good.

Spicy and dark, with a hint of cigarette hanging in the undertones.

Feeling suddenly warm, you gripped the underside of your jumper and lifted, pulling it up and over your head. Cool air met your stomach and chest, and you snapped a hand down to pull the shirt that had gotten caught in your jumper back over your skin.

Shit.

One arm after the other, you took the jumper off in a flustered set of movements, chucking it onto the arm of the couch as you tried to hide the blush of your cheeks.

Ok.

He hadn’t said anything.

Clearly he hadn’t seen otherwise he would have said something. It was Aemond, he would have been snarky and sarcastic or chastising. It’s fine. So fine. Totally fine. Not as if you didn’t just flash him. Not at all.

Everything was fine.

You sat for a moment, adjusting yourself against the couch cushions, suddenly not being able to get comfortable, feeling a shyness spread through your chest. You breathed shallowly. A peak couldn’t hurt. You let your head turn slightly to look at Aemond.

His jaw was clenched, hand against his knee in a tight fist, small blush on his cheeks.

The couch vibrated and Aemond stiffened, this time not reaching to look at his phone.

Okay.

Maybe he had seen.

Fuck.

You stood awkwardly, grabbing the discarded jumper. Aemond looked up, watching you, chest rising and falling slowly beneath his shirt.

“Gonna have a shower,” You blurted, watching his silver lashes blink up at you, “Unless you want first dibs?��

Aemond shook his head and you moved away, walking straight to the bathroom.

Your stomach was full of butterflies as you made your way to the bathroom, stripping quickly to turn on the shower and let the water run cold, trying to cool the rising heat inside of you.

You spent ample time in there, goosebumps erupting on your skin as you attempted to ignore the way the man in your lounge room stoked a fire within you.

But no matter how hard you tried, it didn’t work.

You turned off the shower and stepped out, looking over at the towel rack to grab your towel to dry yourself.

Nothing.

Fuck.

On the back of the door was Helaena’s lilac silk robe, something she always wore when you would do a girls night in, face masks and hair care, and painted nails with your favourite movie, always Pride and Prejudice (2005 version), and a bottle of red. You grabbed the robe off the rack and threw it over your body, the silk clinging to your wet skin.

You swung the door open to run to the linen closet and grab yourself a new towel, running straight into a warm and broad chest. Hands steadied your shoulders as you stumbled backwards, eyes snapping up to meet Aemond’s gaze.

His fingers were tight around your arms, clenched into your flesh as he looked down at you. You swallowed, breathing heavily as your heart raced, the air between you charged.

“You can let go of me now.” You breathed, still in his grip as he looked at you.

His gaze darkened as his eye roamed down your body, and you felt heat brushing against your skin from it. Aemond’s gaze dropped further down still, hovering over your chest as he breathed heavily.

His fingers twitched and then skated down your arms to his side, raising goosebumps along your skin. He took a step back as you moved around him to open the linen cupboard, pulling down a towel.

From behind you could still feel his eye roaming over you, warmth sliding down your spine and into your gut. You gave him a small and shy smile before you stepped back into the bathroom, towel held against your chest.

Why was he staring at you like that?

You turned in the bathroom and caught your reflection in the mirror, you could now see why.

The thin lilac silk had stuck to your wet skin, becoming almost sheer, patches of the wet robe clinging to your curves, whilst the rest was dry and soft. The dark of your nipples were revealed against the soft material, and the curve of your breast was visible.

You blushed deeply, taking off the robe to hang it back the door to dry as you towelled yourself down, dressing into some comfortable pyjamas to get ready for bed.

Anxiety nipped at you again.

Gods.

Had you just flashed him twice in one day?

What was he going to think of you?

He probably thought you were doing it on purpose.

Deciding to go back out to the lounge room and swallow the embarrassment that sat heavily in the back of your throat, you trudged quietly into the room, Aemond sitting stiffly on the couch as he continued to watch the show that was still playing on the screen.

When you sat beside him, his head had turned slightly to look at you, eye taking in your now clothed form, a blush spreading across your cheeks. You tucked your legs beneath you and began to watch it, still feeling his gaze solely on you, and no longer paying attention to whatever was on the screen.

“Did anyone die?” You asked, not daring to turn your head to fully face him, knowing that you would lose all composure once you did.

“Don’t think so.” Aemond’s voice was low and gravelly and it made you shift on the cushion.

You made an awkward sound in the back of your throat, an attempt at a laugh, but it came out more like a whine, “That’s good then, I don’t want to miss anything important.”

Aemond huffed, “You could have paused it.”

His shift in demeanour caught you off guard, “But you were watching it.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Then how do you know if anyone died?”

“I don’t.”

You turned your face to look at him annoyed, “Then why say no-one died?”

Aemond lifted a brow at you, lips beginning to pull down, “I didn’t say that at all. I said I didn’t think so.”

“That implies you were paying attention.” You argued, feeling annoyed at his snarky attitude again.

Aemond dragged an irritated hand through his hair, “I don’t care about your stupid fucking show. If you didn’t want to miss something, then maybe you should have been smart and paused it.”

Your head reared back as you looked at him, his mood rapidly having soured, “What the fuck is your problem?”

The man let out a hollow laugh, “Fuck off.”

His phone vibrated in the couch cushions.

“No seriously dude. What is your deal? You’ve been on my dick ever since you moved in. I’m doing you a favour here.”

Anger flashed across the Targaryens face, his brows pulling down into a sneer as his scar crinkled across his cheek, “You think you’re doing me a favour?”

You were wrong, his lips could be sharp.

Buzz.

You turned on the couch to face him, “You’re the one who needed change. Who needed to leave Harrenhal and come back here. You took Helaena’s room so you could get settled and start fresh.”

“You don’t know anything about what I need.”

Buzz.

“You need to check your phone for a start, because whoever is messaging you is clearly desperate to get in touch. Maybe it’s Alys.”

The air in the room dropped, and Aemond’s face became stoney, as though he had pushed away all emotions to the back of his mind with cool practice. The way his posture had even changed looked as though he was on guard, ready to fight.

Regret flooded you as you looked at him.

You felt immediately terrible, having crossed a line that should never had been crossed. You knew his break up with Alys was bad, and their relationship was not great, and you had just rubbed that in his face.

“That was uncalled for, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.” You apologised quietly, watching as his chest rose and fell jaggedly.

Aemond’s jaw was tensed, lips pursed together in a hard line as his eye narrowed on you, “Do you want to know what my problem is?” He leant forward, voice barely higher than a whisper.

You swallowed.

“My problem is that I live with someone who parades herself half naked around the apartment, and brings home men to fuck her loudly, all night, like a tart.”

You blanched, anger rising up your throat, “A tart? Wow.” Your voice dropped, “That's low. Even for you, Aemond.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know enough.” You sneered, standing from the couch to look down at him, “You have this ‘woe is me’ performance down to a T, when in reality you were born into a family of old money, not having to work a single day in your life, yet you still act as though you are downtrodden. You’re a spoilt, narcissistic asshole who looks down his purebred nose at people. You have more in common with Jason Lannister than you’d like to think.” You spun on your heel, anger bursting inside of you as you moved to storm away from the lounge room and into your bedroom.

Aemond’s hand shot out and grabbed your wrist tightly as he began to stand, “Is that what you really think?”

“It’s what I know. You’ve so far treated me as lesser than the dirt on the bottom of your shoe. You’ve got some serious social deficiencies, Aemond. Did Daddy not hug you enough as a child?” You mocked, striking him where you knew it would hurt the most.

Fuck him.

Fuck being nice.

Arrogant, rich, prick.

Aemond straightened to his full height above you, looking down as he silently seethed. The air around you was charged, and the tension continued to mount as he watched you, eye locked on yours.

“Careful, bunny.”

“Stop fucking calling me that.”

“Why?” His voice dropped, “It’s what you like, isn’t it? Being called bunny, being treated rough. I could bend you over this couch right now and I bet you’d be soaked.”

Your eyes widened, breath stilling in your chest.

Aemond took another step forward, dropping your wrist, “I’m right aren’t I? You act out like this because you want to be put in your place. You want to be a brat so daddy will fuck you, don’t you?”

A chill ran down your spine as he loomed above you, “Don’t you?”

You swallowed thickly, eyes narrowing, “Fuck you.”

Aemond chuckled, “I bet you’d love that.” His hand moved swiftly, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, tingles rippling down your neck.

His hand kept going, brushing through your hair softly, before he gripped a large chunk harshly at the nape of your neck.

A shocked gasp fell from your lips.

“Answer me.”

“No.”

Defiant until the end.

“No?” His brows raised, “Then if I check, you wouldn’t be dripping right now, would you?”

You raised your head in false bravado, a blush creeping across your skin, standing as impossibly still as you could. Challenging him.

Aemond hummed, spinning you around by the grip on your hair, swiftly bending you over the arm of the couch. A cry fell from your lips as your hips and stomach collided with the edge, hands gripping the side to catch yourself.

Your heart was beating against your ribs as you shifted in anticipation, the heat of Aemond’s body loomed behind you as he bent over you, lips coming to beside your ear.

“Now, if I check, and you are wet, you’re in trouble.” He purred.

You squirmed, his hand tugging on your tendrils sending pleasure down your spine and straight to your core. He chuckled, and you whined again, feeling one of his large palms skate down your side agonisingly slow before he reached your pyjama bottoms.

Aemond’s long fingers dipped beneath the elastic and paused for a moment, as though he was giving you a second to say no. But you said nothing, eyes focused on the cushion in front of you as he tugged the shorts down in one swift yank.

Aemond tutted behind you, dragging one long finger to swipe through your folds. Your back arched as you whined, teasing pleasure rippling up through you.

You could feel how wet you were, and your thighs rubbed together in anticipation of what was to come.

He clicked his tongue at you, “You’re soaked.” Aemond’s hand left your core and you turned your head to look at him, watching as he brought the slick finger up to his lips to suck.

Your lips parted as your watched, his eye sliding shut as he licked his finger clean, humming.

“So sweet.” He cooed, “But I was right.” His voice lowered, and he loomed back over you, looking into your eye as his face hardened, “You’ve been such a brat tonight.”

You shook your head, tilting your hips back towards him, biting your lip as you looked at him. A smirk wound on his face as he watched you, hand moving back between your thighs where they instantly found your bud.

He pressed into it meanly, and a sharp cry fell from your lips.

“Shut up.” He hissed, diving two long fingers into your core with no warning.

Your eyes clenched shut as he immediately began to fuck his digits in and out of you, delicious stretch blooming within as the lewd sound of your wetness was all to be heard over your shallow breaths.

Aemond stayed bent over you, watching your face contort with pleasure as you tried to keep your moans inside, biting your lip roughly.

It was so hard.

Every drag of his fingers found the soft spongey spot within you with practised precision and without mercy, roughly pressing into it with each thrust of his hand, sending sparks of pleasure up your spine and heat to settle in your gut.

“So quiet now.” He teased, “Where’s that attitude gone?”

“Fuck you.” You grit through your teeth panting, eyes half lidded.

Aemond huffed, straightening up to his full height as his other hand pressed down on your lower back, pinning you to the couch arm. His hand began to fuck into you rapidly, slick leaking down your thighs as you writhed beneath his grip, coil beginning to tighten.

A broken moan fell erupted from your lips as the knuckles of his hand beat harshly against your clit, pain and pleasure being pulled through you in equal measure. The pain eventually being overridden by the euphoria that he was pulling from you.

Your walls tightened around his fingers and you felt him shift, the width of his other hand spreading widely across your back as he knelt behind you. You squeaked, trying to move, feeling suddenly shy, which earnt you a particularly harsh swat against the flesh of your ass.

“Stay still.” Aemond growled, and you did, feeling the warm of his breath at your core.

Your legs shook as his fingers were pulled from within, and you heard him lap at his digits once more, humming almost pornagraphically.

“Such a dirty, little girl. So wet and wanting for daddy, aren’t you? Such a slut.”

You mewled, hips shifting upwards, trying to take his fingers back inside of you.

You were so close, so fucking close.

Aemond leant forward, and dragged a wide stripe with his tongue up through your folds, humming as he moved, his sharp nose pressing into your backside.

“Fuck.” You whined, jolting forward.

Aemond’s hands grabbed your cheeks and spread them wide in a bruising grip before he dived between your folds, licking and sucking at your pearl with no abandon, your release coming closer and closer with every swipe of his skilled tongue.

He moaned as he lapped at your arousal, tongue dipping between your folds to collect it straight from the source. Aemond’s fingers dug into your flesh meanly as you whined, hips jerking backwards, chasing your release. He held you still, fucking you with his tongue as your climax hurtled towards you.

“Please.” You begged, fingers gripping the couch for dear life, knuckles going white.

Aemond paused and pulled back, “Please what?” He asked coyly.

You groaned, “Please make me cum.”

“But you don’t deserve that, do you? You’ve been a bitch all night, haven’t you?”

You whined, pushing your hips back as you felt him stand behind you again, “Not true.” You argued pathetically, “You were mean first.”

Aemond’s hand pulled your head back by your hair, eye boring into your own, “You haven’t seen mean at all, princess.”

His fingers pressed back into your walls, head still wrenched back painfully as he fucked his hand into you harder and faster than before, the coil within winding rapidly.

“Fuck. Fuck. Aemond, fuck.”

“Not my name.” He yanked on your hair, pain pulling at your scalp, “What’s my name?”

“Aemond.” You breathed jaggedly, last bit of cheekiness coming through.

His hand stilled inside of you, “No.”

You wriggled and whined, trying to push yourself back to fuck yourself on his fingers. His grip in your hair tightened again, preventing you from making any movements as he kept his fingers still.

A warning.

You swallowed the last of your pride, and whimpered, “Daddy.”

“Good girl.” Aemond cooed, his hand began to fuck into you again, thumb curling beneath to press into your bud and rub with every thrust, “Beg.”

You whined, biting your lips as pleasure began to mount, your release so close you could begin to feel the peak.

“Beg.” He growled again, thrusts getting harder.

“Please,” You sobbed out, “Please let me cum. Please let me cum, daddy.”

“There, that wasn’t so hard was it?” He mocked, fucking his hand into you as fast as he could go.

The swirling of his thumb combined with his fingers moving rapidly, caused heat to bloom through your gut as your breath held in your chest. It was all too much, and the coil within wound pathetically fast as his skilled hand brought you to your peak.

“There you go.” He cooed from behind, feeling your walls clench around his digits, “Good girl.”

You came with a cry, hips pressing backwards into his hand as he fucked you through your climax, drawing out each and every inch of pleasure that he could. The room was filled with your moans and whines, the wet sound of your heat engulfing his fingers behind you.

Aemond slowed his thrusts down as you slumped against the arm of the couch, mind going fuzzy as pleasure coursed through your veins. Aemond removed his fingers carefully, wiping your slick on the inside of your thighs as you felt him look down at you.

Buzz.

You breathed heavily, lost in bliss as a small smile wound on your cheeks. You heard him chuckle behind you at the sight. Completely fucked out on the couch. And only with his hands and mouth.

Buzz.

“You gonna get that?” You sighed dreamily, pants still pushed down to your knees as lay slumped in a daze.

Buzz.

You turned your head to look at Aemond as he pulled out his phone in agitation, face scowling at the screen. You moved to sit on the arm of the couch, pulling your shorts up as you looked at him scrolling through his notifications.

“Are you okay?” You asked softly, feeling concern at seeing his sudden change in nature, “Is it your dad?”

His cool gaze flicked to your face, and you felt the warmth that had once surrounded you grow cold. It was like he had flicked a switch, “How about you mind your own business.” He scowled.

You furrowed your brows at him, “Woah, relax. I just wanted to know if you were okay.”

Aemond scoffed, shoving his phone back into his back pocket, “Are you always this overbearing?”

You blanched.

What the fuck?

Buzz.

“What?” You said in disbelief, brows furrowing.

“Oh, please.” He growled angrily, “Making me dinner, asking after me all the time. If I had known you were that desperate-“

“-Desperate?”

A flash of regret washed over Aemond’s face. He sighed through his nose and stepped towards you, “Y/n, I-“

“Don’t.” You held a hand up, feeling tears begin to prickle at your eyes standing on shaky legs, “This was a mistake.”

Aemond’s face dropped.

The silver haired man sighed again, “If you would just l-“

“If you treated Alys half as bad as this, it’s no wonder she left you.” You snapped, watching as his jaw tensed, feeling an ache bloom in your chest, “You have no regard for anyone else but yourself, and what we just did was a lapse in my judgement. I thought that you-“ You paused and swallowed, not bothering to finish what you were going to say.

Aemond stood deathly still as you sped past him, not waiting for his response as you fled to your bedroom, slamming your door shut behind you. You crawled immediately into the sheets, tears finally falling from your eyes as you cried softly, turning onto your side to curl in on yourself.

You felt used.

If there was one thing that you knew, it was that Aemond was not a good person, no matter what Helaena said.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Taglist:

@mrstargayen09 @iamavailablesstuff @malfoytargaryen @hogwarts1207 @diannnnsss @seni039 @qyburnsghost @lilitheal @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @watercolorskyy @skikikikiikhhjuuh @toodlesxcuddles @kaelatargaryen @aemonds-fire @anitazut @melsunshine @persephonerinyes @hey-lucille @wintrr13@arcielee @hueanhdang @coffedraven @happinessinthebeing @zairishmya @hanula18 @lovejustlovelythings-blog @harryssunflxwer @spinachtz @bellaisasleep @aemshaircare @heavenly1927 @yentroucnagol @snh96 @thedamewithabook @hanula18 @sweethoneyblossom1 @siriusblackrunmeover17 @yentroucnagol @urmomsgirlfriend1 @carriellie @ipostwhtifeel@queenofshinigamis @toodlesxcuddles @the-common-cowgirl@ladymarg0t @deadgirlwalkingtaylorsversion @diiickbrainn @inkwingswrites @rawrxbexjealous @virtualsweetsqueen @adeliciouslysaltybitch @tsujifreya @boofy1998 @docmartinis @rabbit-reveries @bel-bottoms @gemini-mama @docmartinis @stargazer-88

Bold is who I cannot tag

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no1deepspacehater · 2 months

Text

Private Collection - Rafayel x Reader

Tags: Just a littleee NSFW (so no minors), a naked body is involved, reader has breasts, unresolved tension, sexual tension.

AN: Cross posted on my AO3

You breathed a silent, agitated huff out as you stared at yourself in the mirror. When you made a deal with him to be his ‘bodyguard’, you never expected to be roped into an activity like this.

A knock on the bathroom door brought you out of your thoughts. You tied the slings of the robe tight around you, though it was a pointless act since the apparel would be coming off soon enough.

“Would you hurry up in there? God, you’re as slow as a sea slug.” Rafayel’s disgruntled voice muffled behind the door.

“I’m coming!” Annoyed, you opened the door to meet Rafayel right behind it. His arms were crossed, and he had an ever-present look of snob on his face that you can only get from someone with high celebrity status like him.

He immediately turned around, going to one of the two chairs in the middle of his studio. “Finally, let’s get started.”

You tried to make a normal stride to the chair across from him, but it came out more like a nervous shuffle. You stopped in front of him, a second of hesitation.

Rafayel looked up from mixing his paints, catching your eye. “C’mon, don’t get cold feet now. If you’re worried about me, I had to study tons of nude references, now hurry up.”

Yeah, but being naked and put on display was foreign to you, and being naked in front of him is what was putting you on edge. You grumbled a lame comeback, whispered it basically, and untied your robe.

Like ripping off a band-aid, you threw the cloth over your shoulder and let it drop to the floor. Goosebumps immediately formed on your skin from the cold air, and part embarrassment. You sat on the stool softly, brows furrowed as you focused on him mixing paint instead of your face. He was mixing a dark hue of his favourite blue.

Rafayel finally raised his head to you, and for a quick moment, you locked eyes with him, catching the bright red blush that roared across his face.

He cleared his throat momentarily, looking back to his paint to coat his brush with paint. When he looked at you again, the blush was already starting to fade, and you had already averted your gaze, your own face heating up, too.

What happened to him being used to this!? What was that? He’s such a liar.

“It’s cold, don’t move.” Was his only warning as he started to paint around the base of your neck. It was cold, but you did your best not to squirm as he spread the paint downwards. Your body quickly adapted to the chilled stripe of paint until he dipped his brush again and applied it to the other side of your neck, sending another cold jolt.

“This paint is skin safe, right?” You spoke a sudden thought, attempting to make the whole situation a bit less awkward.

Rafayel hummed “Maybe, I did mix a few special ingredients in there to get the hues just right.”

Your head jerked towards him, “What?!”. Rafayel tsked at the sudden movement.

“Don’t move so suddenly! It’ll mess up the stroke.”

You grumbled again and hoped you wouldn’t break into hives after this.

Rafayel continued to apply around your neck, standing up and working around your body. He took a moment to coat your whole back in an array of colours you couldn’t see. For a moment he stood back, brush to the side as he put a hand on his mouth in thought.

“Angle yourself a little bit forward.” He instructed.

You slipped a little bit off of the stool, hands to your side gripping the stool. “Like this?” You asked.

Rafayel hummed, examining you hard. You could tell his gaze was one of artistic scrutiny, looking for the best angle of his subject, the right ‘composition’ as he liked to say.

He moved in front of you, grabbing your forearms, shoulders, and back and adjusting them to his liking. His next aim was your hips, pulling them forward just a bit. The action set you back to a flustered mess all over again, and if it bothered Rafayel, he didn’t show it one bit.

Sitting back down, he continued his work on the front of your body. As his stroke neared the curve of your breast and over your unfortunately hard nipples, you held back a shudder.

“Will you relax…” Rafayel breathed out a laugh. The redness on his own face was starting to come back, unbeknownst to him.

“It’s… cold!” You mumbled out. A solid excuse.

As he moved towards the other breast, you swore he was doing it on purpose. Purposely applying new, cold, paint and dragging the paintbrush ever so slowly over the nipple.

You couldn’t fight back the shudder, and Rafayel pulled the paintbrush back fast enough as you arched up suddenly.

His hands immediately moved to your hips again to put you back in spot; his sly smirk was not missed as you nervously looked down at him with a scowl. “D-did you do that on purpose?”

“Do what on purpose?” He dismissed you just as quick, moving to apply the finishing stroke to your chest area and moving down. “I’m simply painting, now would you seriously stop moving, before I have to start all over again.”

Knowing not to take Rafayel up on his warning because you know he would seriously make you wash everything off and start over, you gritted your teeth and stayed still. You’ll get him back, somehow, and decided to force your other racing thoughts on some type of revenge.

Rafayel made quick work of your midsection, and surprisingly, with no teasing, finished painting your more lower region as well. His pace slowed at your thighs, painting them with intricate details you couldn’t see the lower he went, since he’d instructed you to keep your head up to not disturb the paint on your neck.

Then it was your calves, at which you complained to hurry up since your muscles hurt from not moving for so long. He told you to shut up and let him paint. You’re feet finally, which, of course, tickled, and Rafayel threatened to turn you into fish balls if you dared squirm again.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Rafayel stood up and put up his paintbrush. He stalked around you, eyeing every angle to make sure it was to his liking.

“There, another masterpiece. Stay right, and I mean exactly, there.” He commanded as he went to the corner of the room. You didn’t dare turn your head to look where he went, but you could hear him digging through one of his drawers.

He came back into your view with a professional camera.

“I didn’t know you were also into photography.” You commented in between flashes.

Rafayel walked closer, ghosting two fingers under your chin, lifting your head up. You both locked eyes again, his face unusually close, before he backed away to take another pick. He was making sure your face wasn’t in any of the pictures, a promise he made when you agreed to be a part of his ‘artwork’.

“It’s not my chosen medium.” He murmured, focusing on the angle of the camera. “But it proves useful for pieces like this.”

You had another thought. “Do your photographs sell as much as your paintings?” You knew what you were getting into, but the idea of some creepy rich guy hanging a large photograph of your body in his bedroom made you feel a little icky. Oh well, it’s too late now.

“Depends on what I take a picture of. Though my imagination is priceless when I paint, a picture is worth a thousand words.” He took his last picture before straightening up. His smile was one of satisfaction. “Or I might use these pictures of a reference for my next painting.” He put his hands on his chin in thought.

“I hope whoever buys it is very happy with their purchase… well maybe not too happy…” You laughed a bit at your joke, but Rafayel suddenly got serious.

His eyes sized you up from up and down, and then when he realized you were looking at him, perplexed. He walked close to you, motioning for you to stand up. He picked up the robe from the ground and gently began helping you put it back on. Locking eyes for the third time, there was a gaze in his eyes you couldn’t quite decipher. He held eye contact as he tied the robe tightly back around you.

“You can go wash off now.” Is all he said as he backed away, going back to his camera. “Do call if you need help~” His tone went back to teasing, and you snapped out of your daze and rolled your eyes.

“Yeah right, maybe in your next ‘artwork’.” You snarked as you walked back to the bathroom, in need of a really hot and long shower after whatever that was just now.

It turns out Rafayel suddenly changed the theme of his next art gallery, to the dismay of his poor assistant, with little to no explanation. He’d decided to keep the pieces he had planned to display to himself for his own private collection.

#rafayel love and deepspace #love and deepspace #love and deepspace rafayel #lads x reader #l&ds rafayel #l&ds #rafayel x reader #rafayel x mc #love and deepspace mc #love and deep space #Lauve and Deepspace

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pfenniged · 2 months

Text

OKAY I'M SCREAMING BECAUSE IF YOU KNOW YOUR OBSCURE BAND OF BROTHERS FACTS, MY FAVOURITE DEEP DIVE BAND OF BROTHERS FACT IS THAT LEWIS NIXON AND BUCK COMPTON HATED EACH OTHER BECAUSE LEWIS WEIRDLY HAD A THING AGAINST HIM FOR BEING A "JOCK."

IT'S A THING IN A COUPLE OF THE OFF-SHOOT COMPANY BAND OF BROTHER BOOKS written both by Buck and other men. There's never a real explanation offered for WHY Lewis didn't like Buck, and what I always assumed was that Lewis basically got pestered by jocks at Yale, took it badly, and most likely took that out on poor Buck.

To get you a perspective of how athletic Buck was, Buck went to school at UCLA, which is famously a pretty jock-ish school. They traditionally have pretty great sports teams, Buck was All-American, which basically means one of the best in the country, and was recruited for professional baseball and played varsity football. He also played with Jackie Robinson at UCLA, the first black man to play professional Major League Baseball in the United States. Needless to say, he was pretty fucking athletic.

My theory is that Lewis was weirdly jealous because he was a poor little rich boy who never did anything on his own merit, and slightly intimidated of Buck's athletic prowess and charisma, but I digress.

AND LOW AND BEHOLD, MY YOUTUBE "RECOMMENDED FOR YOU" GIFTED ME THIS CLIP POSTED 12 DAYS AGO:

youtube

And I'm dying because so much drama that can be taken from this one clip:

The real Buck Compton seems immensely likeable even in his old age, and someone I think I would have been friends with.

Buck calls Lewis both a drunk and a prick, plus basically infers because he's up at battalion staff not even on the front lines that he basically was fucking about and not doing his job by being on the front line every time he was getting after Buck. And Buck is basically politely saying, "What are you even doing here." 💀

AND THEN LEWIS APPARENTLY CAME UP TO HIM UNPROMPTED and was basically like "AT YALE I HAD GIRLFRIENDS AND USED TO PARTY- AND ALL YOU JOCKS WERE DOING WAS SPORTS." And Buck is literally me if someone came up to me and was like I USED TO GET DRUNK AND PARTY AND YOU LOSERS JUST LIKED TO SWEAT in a weirdly accusatory tone, and is just like "... Okay????!? GOOD FOR YOU?!?? TO EACH THEIR OWN?!???"

Then poor Buck had to run a fucking hour of running Lewis made him in charge of every morning, even though he technically had no direct power over him, in a wool outfit, because he put him in charge of physical education. Because clearly some jock gave Lewis Nixon a swirly in a toilet once or something, and Lewis couldn't handle it because he was a rich boy used to getting what he wanted.

THE LEGENDARY ALMOST 100 YEAR OLD BEEF CONTINUES.

#I'm dying #Buck is literally me when someone has beef with me #... okay #hbo war #band of brothers #buck compton #lewis nixon #Youtube #I'm dying for like 80+ year old military drama

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weird-is-life · 4 months

Note

hii I have a rockstar!remus request where the reader is a massive fan of the Marauders band and she got front row seats (idk what instrument u prefer to have remus play but guitarist!remus lives in my head rent free) and he sees her in the crowd and when it's his guitar solo he just locks eyes with her and doesn't look away and then winks at her when he's done<3

Hiii ty for this cute request! Hope you like it and lovelies if you have some more request for rockstar!remus feel free to send them my way, warnings: fluff, mentions of concerts, (0.5k)

You've been a fan of The Marauders basically since they've started playing. But this is your first time at their concert, where you can actually see their faces in real life, not just through those huge TV screens.

You're standing in the front row, giddy as one can be. It all feels like some kind of fever dream being this close to the stage.

And something that makes it even better, it's that right in front of you is the bassist of the band, Remus Lupin.

He's definitely your favourite member of the band. With his soft face, kind looking eyes, devilish smile, wild hair, he's the perfect definition of a rockstar and that's basically why every single girl or a boy melts at the sight of him.

But even tho, you really love him, you aren't one of the girls, that will go crazy at the sight of him.

It's because you know, there's no fucking chance, that he'd ever look at you and think ' oh that girl is really cute, lemme ask her out'. You know, that's not happening, like ever, so you settle for enjoying the moment of just seeing him so close.

But something weird keeps happening during the show. Remus seems to be looking at you every now and then, or at least you think he is. Maybe you're just going crazy.

You try to not think of it, not wanting to be delusional. But when one of Remus's bass solos come on, you know for sure, you're ot imagining it.

Remus's is definitely looking at you. Like he doesn't break the eye contact the entire solo and it makes your cheeks go on fire.

You even look around you to make sure, he's not looking at somebody behind you. He's not.

And his smirking isn't helping the situation, like at all and by the time the solo is over, your cheeks are red as a tomato and a shy smile is stuck on your face.

What makes it even worse for you is when he winks at you at the end of it. You have to actually hold on to the railing just so you don't loose your stability, suddenly feeling like some silly fangirl.

And that handsome bastard just chuckles at your stunned, sheepish face.

For the rest of the concert, you try your best to calm down and to bring your stupid hopes down. It feels impossible tho.

And finally, the last song ends and you can go to your hotel room to take a cold shower to get rid of the permanent flushed cheeks.

But your hope of doing that dissappears just as quickly as it came, because one of the bodyguards hands you a folded paper. It's written in a messy handwriting, that you don't recognise, but you easily guess who's it from.

Thank you for being a great view for me, dove. Your dance moves and smile made my evening, hell the entire week probably. So thank you. See you soon hopefully ;)

Love, R.L.

Bravely, you scribble your phone number with a short note on the other side of the paper and quickly run out of there. Cheeky smile now paints your face as you make your way to the hotel and surprisingly, when your phone vibrates with a notification, you know it's him, it's from Remus.

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fluff #rockstar!remus #remus lupin

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babygirlispunk · 1 year

Text

Summer Fling - PART ONE

Pedro Pascal X f!Reader

Summary: living in a completely different hemisphere, you didn’t expect to bump into Pedro Pascal at a music festival.

Warnings: 18+, mentions of alcohol

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: Reader is not physically or ethnically described but is Australian. Honestly inspired by my own summer romance I experienced when I was younger with a guy who happened to be Latino lol. This is just quickly written to get over my jitters and get confidence to post other stuff SO ITS PROBALY A BIT MESSY SORRY.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

The ground is vibrating beneath you feet, your ears are ringing from hours of listening to loud music for days. The temperature has cooled down from the summer sun with the night sky. Bodies glisten with sweat, dancing in the crowded space as you're all harmoniously vibing and singing to RUFUS. Everyone's either drunk or high, sloppily hanging off one another or shouting aloud enthusiastically.

It's New Years Eve, 10 or so minutes from midnight. You can't believe your seeing one of your favourite bands live and an absolute banger of a song is playing right now and you can't help but raise your hands into the air and dance your heart out, shouting the lyrics not caring how scratchy your voice is from singing along with different singers and bands for the past 3 days.

You manage to hear your name being called out next to you. It's your best friend Syria. You two managed to lose the rest of your group when squeezing your way further to the front wanting to get into the heart of the crowd and the vibe.

She leans in closer so you can hear her over the pounding music. "I reckon we should get to the very front before midnight hits."

"Why don't we ask someone if we can sit on their shoulders?" you yell back.

You both look around to find any guy or girl that would be willing to hold you and Syria up but most people are already paired up or in groups leaving the creepy looking ones left that would probably feel you up.

Bodies keep dancing around you as you duck and weave your way through to the front. You quickly make it, motivated by the words 'You were right' booming from the speakers and the singer announcing that New Years is drawing in. As you emerge to your new spot you bump with some guy passing a quick sorry and turning your attention to the stage. Both happy with how close you are, you wrap your arm around Syria's shoulder and she wraps hers around your waist. You scream-sing, jumping up and down together getting hyped, probably sounding like squealing pigs, when you just hear a laugh next to you.

(Highly recommend listening to You Were Right - RUFUS DU SOL for the next part, for the vibe)

You look where it came from and connect with gorgeous chocolate brown eyes accessorised by glasses, paired with a wide cheesy grin framed by a scruffy, patchy beard and unkempt curly hair. He must've been the guy you bumped... Being polite, you smile back and turn back to the stage singing with Syria.

But it hits you like a brick wall and you double take. You look back to see the guy talking to their friend, up close as they talk into each others ears. Colourful lights bounce off him from the stage and you focus on his face, confirming who it is.

"Syria!" You hiss into her ear but she's too entranced by the music to notice so you give her a shake under your arm and gives you a 'what' face.

"You would not believe who is next to me!" She gives you a confused look then peeks in front of you to look at him, returning to face you with eyes as big as an owl.

Without wasting a breath she shoves you into his direction and you trip over yourself and bump into him again, basically landing on him but he ever so gracefully catches you, hooking his hands underneath your armpits.

"Woah there, had a bit too much to drink have we?" he chimes out loud.

You're embarrassed and can only blurt out a no.

"Sorry about that, those guys next to us knocked us over." Syria covers for you.

"Assholes." he looks at you, still held in his strong hands, smiling sweetly.

He brings you back to your feet and you turn around to say your thanks but your close. Really close. Face to face. Your eyes flicker at every point of his face, really soaking in every detail your buzzed out brain can retain till you land on his eyes. They're looking down at you're lips before they flick up and lock with yours. They're so deep and gorgeous, you could just dive and swim in them

"Thanks." you manage to say despite your heart is beating violently inside your ribcage. He winks back with a cheeky grin making you blush as you turn back to face the stage. The song keeps pumping around you and Syria is dancing and singing her little heart out.

He stands right besides you now and you can feel his hand brushing against your arm as you both dance on the spot. You can feel the goosebumps travelling up your arm as he keeps touching and nudging you. You can't help yourself but steal a glance at him only to see him doing the same, biting your lip, saving yourself from giggling like a little girl. That damn smile hasn't left his face.

The massive crowd surrounding you start screaming out the minute countdown and you join in trying to distract yourself from the closing proximity between the two of you. Try as you might, you still keep looking at him in the corner of your eye only to see him doing the same.

30 seconds left.

A hand gently glides around your waist followed by a body pressing against to your side sending a chill through your body and the butterflies are released, fluttering wildly in your stomach.

20 seconds left.

You look up at him, he's looking forward at the stage bobbing his head pretending like he isn't pulling your body towards him right now. He's clearly showing his interest, there's no point chickening out now.

You snake your hand underneath his loose tee and wrap your arm along his back, placing your hand on his hip using your thumb to caress the skin on his back.

He turns his gaze to you with a smirk on his face and squeezes his hand holding your waist making you gulp down.

10 seconds left.

He bends down so that his mouth grazes your ear ever so softly.

"I was wondering if you would be my new years kiss?"

He moves his face in front of yours, just a breath away, waiting for your answer.

"Are you sure?" was all you could manage.

"Why not start the year kissing a gorgeous girl?" he inches closer to you, nose tips brushing.

You're both breathing heavy, both of your eyes fliting between each others eyes and mouth. Breaths brushing each others skin.

You turn your bodies to face one another. Moving your arms around his neck, his hands not losing contact with your waist, squeezing your lower half closer to his, pelvis' coming in contact inciting a flutter down there.

The song drops and lips crash into one another, the impact cushioned by his plush lips, you feel euphoric. This all surreal even with Syria screaming her lungs out behind you along with cheers from the masses.

You feel the heat of fireworks and sparklers set off from the stage as everyone celebrates the new year but it doesn't compare to the fire burning inside you as he pulls you in tighter making your chests rub against each other as you two are hungrily trying to taste one another. He swipes his tongue along your lips as an invitation to deepen the kiss and you let him in immediately. As your tongues dance together, tasting each others choice of alcohol, you feel his nose tickle against your cheek.

Not wanting to pull away, you inhale and exhale through your nose and you are enveloped by his smell, his sweet musky smell. He is like a damn drug and you're already addicted. Wanting more you tangle your fingers through his hair, desperately trying to bring him in closer, deeper than physically possible.

You're becoming overwhelmed by it all that a moan slips out of you, passing though and exchanged to his lips. You try not to over think it but you feel a slight smile form on his lips as he devour you, returning the moan back for you to inhale. His hand drops to your ass, kneading them in his fists and pulling you even closer than you thought possible letting you grind up his hard rump forming underneath his thick jeans and your core slickens fast.

Not wanting let go but starving for oxygen, you eventually pull back, not letting go of your bodies. He is also out of breath, shoulders rising and falling rapidly.

“What’s your name?”

You say your name through shallow breaths and he repeats it after you. You feel excitement hearing him say it out aloud, making your own name sound like liquid gold oozing from his mouth. Still getting your breath back, be gently nudges his nose on yours, pecking you and not wanting to lose the space between you, eyes never leaving yours.

“Would you come back to my tent* with me? Get away from this crowd and prying eyes…” he says almost desperately asking as his lips keep pecking yours, knowing exactly what he’s really asking.

You nod in agreement and he smiles that sickly sweet smile. Moving his hands from your ass, he threads his hands into yours and turns to his small friend group speaking with each other. You then realise they had watched the little show you two had put on. Then you feel like something is missing.

Syria.

You look all around in the surrounding crowd of singing and dancing bodies but you can’t find her. She’s missing. Letting go of his hand, you continue looking around getting on your top toes, jumping to look over peoples heads. You call out her name but she’s no where to be seen. Every worse case scenario runs through your head. Your group made one rule to follow during this festival.

Never ditch your buddy.

A wide hand grips around your wrist, giving you a slight fright till you remember who it was connected to, following his body till your met with his puppy dog eyes.

“My friend is missing, I need to find her, make sure she’s okay.” You say frantically.

“Let me help you.”

“No no it’s okay.” There was no way you were going to drag an A-list celeb around massive festival grounds swarmed with thousands of people that could horde him, away from the safety of his own friends.

“Are you sure?” He brings you in closer wrapping his arms around your waist as if locking you to him and you hold onto his arms, getting a good feel of how toned they are. You look at his lips, swollen from your kiss, hungry for more but you had priorities…

Giving him one last kiss, you keep it sweet and simple, lingering there for a moment fighting the urge the stay. “It was nice meeting you Pedro.”

As you pull away he give you a sad smile to pair with his puppy eyes. Turning away, shattered your moment was cut short, you weave through the crowd looking for Syria.

You circle round the crazy crowd, desperately looking for Syria but to no avail. You whip out your phone fumbling fingers on the screen trying to call her. Reception on its last bar unsurprisingly but by some miracle she answers. You hear your name from the other side but it’s staticky and broken, repeating over and over again as you try to call her name on your end.

Barely making out the words over the static and loud music pounding around you before it eventually hangs up. You look at your screen, call failed.

You growl in frustration, till a hand grabs your shoulder. Twisting around hoping to see his face, you’re sadly met with your friend Joey.

“Hey we’ve been looking for you!” He yells over the music.

“I’ve been looking for Syria!” You yell back.

He rolls his eyes and grabs your hand and leads you.

Once you’ve reach the back of the crowd, the music is less rattling and people are more spread out, laying on the grass, too drunk or too high, you spot of friend group with Syria.

“There you are! I thought you were kidnapped or something.” You give her a big hug, relieved.

“Oh my God no! I spotted some of the group in the crowd and went to get them so they could witness you getting with your celeb crush!”

“I still don’t believe it. Could be a look alike” Huffs Joey.

“Well luckily I took a pic.” Syria proudly unlocks her phone and shows everyone the photo.

It’s blurry and all you can see is your back facing the camera with the top of Pedro’s head next to yours. The butterflies from before flutter again as you see he’s arm wrapped tight around your waist and his hand gripping your ass.

“Can’t see shit Syria.” Someone else says.

“Fuck off.” Syria shoves the person and turns her attention to you. “I’m sorry I ditched you. Didn’t mean to scare you and ruin your moment. Literally the one time it really mattered. Now you probably won't see him again.”

You give her a big hug knowing she didn’t ditch intentionally. “All good. Just glad knowing you're alive and not kidnapped by weirdos.”

“You hot bitch, you hooked up with Pedro fucking Pascal!” She squeals his name and jumping like an energized puppy, overly excited for you.

You laugh out loud, still not quite comprehending it actually happened despite your skin still hot from his touch, the tingle lingering below and your lips swollen from your intense pash. You bite your bottom lip, reminiscing.

“What a way to start the year.”

MASTERLIST - NEXT

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A/N: Multiple day festivals in Australia, typically, people camp at the festival site with tents, camper vans etc. and depending on the festival, they sometimes have the VIP tents with working facilities that cost an extra pretty penny AKA glampin' so he’s chilling in that 👍🏼

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x f!reader #pedro pascal x female reader

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