#can someone please draw them with long hair

[nariism]

neuvillette is aware that he shouldn’t have let you get so close. but he did, and now he’s lamenting the fact that your hands are grasping at his soft horns — his fucking horns, of all places — and he might like it.

uptight and strait-laced, you’ve never known the chief justice to be someone so easily flustered. yet here he is with heat crawling up his neck, so warm that you can feel it against your palms as they ghost over his skin.

you can’t help but laugh at his current situation.

he was vehemently against you coming anywhere near his hair at first, grumbling about how his horns were on the sensitive side and he would rather not have to go into work feeling uncomfortably aware of their presence on his head.

however, you were hard to deny with that little smile on your face and such soft hands grabbing at his arms, tugging him closer. a sweet voice chanting, "please, honey? pretty please?"

neuvillette has never been good at denying you what you want.

it’s how he ends up sitting at your shared vanity. you comb through his long hair, watching him with amusement in the mirror as he huffs and jolts with every brush of your fingers against his horns.

the fact that he was letting you get anywhere near them was surely a testament to his trust in you. he was completely vulnerable here, at your mercy.

“sorry,” you mumble disingenuously, clearly enjoying seeing your usually serious husband falling apart with a simple action. you quickly tie off the end of his hair with a bow and he sighs in relief, thinking that the torment is over.

it's far from over.

he draws a sharp breath when you lean forward and press two gentle kisses on him; one on either side of his head just beside his horns.

neuvillette glowers at you in the reflection, disapproval written all over his face. "stop that," he scolds.

you do, but only because you're worried he might melt into a puddle before your very eyes if you continue.

it becomes a daily routine after that, with him sitting patiently in front of the mirror while you brush and tie off his hair. and you always end it the same way: two kisses, a soft "have a good day at work," murmured against him, and a mischievous little smile that makes him sigh.

he responds everyday with the same two words. "stop that," with a narrow-eyed glare.

the day you do stop, he's confused and irritated.

not only because you have the audacity to throw a wrench into routine again, which you know he hates, but also because he can't figure out why he misses your lips so much.

"what are you doing? i am going to be late."

"hm?" you peer up lazily from your spot on the bed, still half asleep.

"you have to do my hair."

"i thought you didn't want me to, so i slept in today."

your husband is eerily silent for a moment as he mulls over your words. then, he carefully perches himself on the edge of the bed, back turned to you expectantly and still wordless.

no, he would never admit he likes it just a little bit — the vulnerability, the trust, the feeling of your hands threading through his hair, the intimacy of it. hell no.

but neuvillette doesn't have to say a lot of things for you to understand; not when the way his skin heats up says it all; not when you're the first person to touch his horns in centuries; not when he’s saying stop that with such an affectionate glimmer in his eyes.

you give him four kisses that morning, two on either side.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

#— whispers in the wind ✧ #not proofread i'm sorry #neuvillette my beloved my BELOVED my husband my lover my meow meow #he makes me insane #also idk if i would call those things on his head horns but that's what everyone else calls them #neuvillette #neuvillette genshin #neuvillette fluff #neuvillette x y/n #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x you #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fic #genshin impact fluff

[astraystayyh]

Say yes to heaven

hyunjin x reader. seven minutes in heaven except you're heartbroken and hyunjin has a huge crush on you. angst and softness and slightly suggestive in the end.

cw: mention of drinking alcohol and cheating. reader has lipstick on.

part 2. say yes to me

Hyunjin's legs are aching from sitting crisscrossed for so long. The music reverberates loudly, bouncing off the walls in Changbin's house. You are all playing truth or dare, a gathering of twenty people or something. But he isn't keeping count of anyone around. His eyes are fixated on you.

You are downing your drink, nudging Chan's side so he'd pour you another shot. He understands why you feel the need to forget, to fog up your mind until the world around you blurs. Your ex Suho, the one you had just broken up with two weeks ago, is kissing someone else, right in front of you. Hyunjin doesn't care enough to see who it is, his heart clenching at the sight of the tears brimming in your eyes.

You are hurt, rightfully so. Hyunjin never understood why you've ever dated Suho. He never cherished you, never treated you the way you were deserving of. Because you were beautiful, so beautiful it rendered Hyunjin putty in your hands. Though that was merely the surface of everything captivating about you.

The bottle is spined again, and Hyunjin's breath catches when it lands on him... Then you.

"Seven minutes in heaven!" Changbin shouts and you roll your eyes, before standing up and heading first into the closet. Hyunjin follows closely behind.

He closes the door, plunging you both into pitch darkness. Your hands find his arms suddenly, gripping them tightly.

"You okay?" he asks, concern dripping from his tone.

"It's really dark," you whisper, and Hyunjin's brows furrow further.

"We should leave," he suggests, moving to open the door but you pull him back. "No, no. Let's stay."

"But you're scared."

"It's okay. You're here."

"Is this about Suho?" Hyunjin asks tentatively, after a few silent beats, and he can hear you suck in a deep breath. He knows he just hit a sensitive chord.

"Yes."

One.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," he whispers, placing a reassuring hand on your back.

"Save it. I won't make out with you," you reply, sudden anger lacing your words. Hyunjin understands it's just your walls being put up so he wouldn't dare peek behind them.

"I know," he says softly, and your hold on his white shirt tightens. You're both so close, his chest is almost pressed to yours. Can you hear how wildly his heart is beating?

"Fuck, I'm sorry Hyune," the nickname slips from your mouth, sweet and familiar. He missed hearing it. Missed what you had before Suho came into the picture. "I'm just really really hurt," you admit, tears glistening in your eyes.

"Do you want me to fight him? You know I would," he tries to keep his tone soft even though raw anger simmers within him.

"You don't even know what he did," you chuckle weakly and he shakes his head. "He made you cry. That's enough for me."

Two.

You stay silent, but your forehead rests on his chest, as slight tremors shake your body. Your wound was still so fresh, and seeing Suho tonight only made matters worse. But Hyunjin's body is warm, and his arms tightening around you feel safe. You think you can face your ex again if he's by your side.

"Please don't cry," he says, hands reaching up to smooth down your hair, as his chin rests atop your head. He's so gentle with you, so sweet, more than Suho has ever been in your relationship.

"I'm sorry, this isn't what you signed up for," you apologize, but you can't find it in you to pull away. Instead, you wrap your arms around his waist, drawing him nearer to you.

"It's okay. This is nicer." You can't see him, but you can hear the smile in his voice. His smile is always so pretty, and his perfume is making you dizzy. You've drunk too much.

Three.

"How have you been?" you ask, fingers drumming gently along his back. Hyunjin doesn't know how he managed to speak normally to you up until now. Not when you've intoxicated him, when all he could feel in this cramped up space was you.

"Good," he finally manages to say. "And you?"

"I'm good. I missed you," you admit, and his heart seems to pause within his chest.

"You're drunk," he dryly chuckles but you shake your head against his chest. "I know what I'm saying. I'm sorry for taking my distance these past few months. The truth is... I didn't have enough energy to be a good friend, it was draining me to deal with Suho."

"Don't apologize. There is nothing to forgive."

"You promise me?"

"I promise."

Four.

You're full-on hugging now, arms tightly intertwined around one another, and hyunjin thinks this is his heaven- to bury his head in your hair, to smell the sweet scent of your shampoo.

"You smell nice," you mumble, cheek resting right across his chest. "Why is your heart beating so loud, Hyunjin?" you ask curiously, eyes closed.

Hyunjin thinks if he stays silent enough, then you'll forget you've ever asked. Because he can't bring himself to lie to you.

"You smell nice too," he settles on saying. "You look really pretty too."

"Thank you, Hyune." That damned nickname again. "I think... I think you're making my heart beat faster too," you mumble and Hyunjin shuts his eyes closed. You are killing him, stabbing him, and twisting the knife deeper inside his heart. And he's allowing it because it's you.

Five.

"Why do you think he cheated on me?" you ask, voice barely audible, and Hyunjin has to try his best not to storm out right now. He had guessed it was bad, but not this horrible.

"Don't. Don't ever think it was your fault. It wasn't. It could never be. It was his," he speaks the words firmly as if trying to drill them into your mind, erasing every wrong belief you held about yourself.

"Do you mean it?"

"I do," he leans away, cradling your face between his hands. He's so gentle. his voice and his touch and his existence. How could one be so gentle to you?

"You are everything someone would ever dream of. If I were him I would..." he cuts himself off, before saying something stupid; something that would tip the scale of your friendship.

"Finish it, finish what you were saying," you plead, voice shaky and he can't find it in himself to say no.

"If I were him, I would never let go of you. I'd do everything, anything to make myself worthy of you, of your love."

Six.

"Can I try something?" you ask tentatively, and Hyunjin feels as if the world stopped spinning around him. The outside world doesn't exist anymore, all he knows is you.

"Yes," he whispers, voice raspy, and you nod. Your shaky hands reach up to trace his face, cupping his cheeks gently. You're standing on your tippy toes, and Hyunjin can feel your breath fanning over his skin, feel goosebumps burst across his body. And then, the most tender kiss, placed on his cheek.

Your lips linger, pressing into his skin and marking it up for eternity. His hands find your sides, they're trembling, but they're warm and they feel nice to you.

You gulp, before kissing his cheek again. And then, you trail down, your lips finding the corner of his mouth. Hyunjin's knees buckle underneath him. It's too much, colorful dots cloud his vision and he hasn't even drunk anything.

Your hand curls around the nape of his hair, and then you brush your lips against his neck, slowly, deliberately, as if testing the ways in which you could drive him insane. You've succeeded, he wants to say. He's yours to do anything you want with.

Seven.

"Time's up!" Changbin's loud voice rings outside of the closet, and it snaps you both out of your haze. You stumble back, fingers brushing tentatively across your lips. It feels as if your entire body is on fire, even though your kisses were innocent, tentative. But you're feeling more than you've ever did with Suho.

"Hyunjin, I-" The door pulls open, sudden light flooding your vision. You can finally see the evidence of your kisses- crimson imprints on his cheek, trailing down his neck, giving way to a flushed chest. He's so pretty. And you've marked him up for everybody to see.

"We'll talk later, okay?" Hyunjin smiles, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"Okay."

Seven minutes felt like seven lifetimes for Hyunjin. And he'd live them all with you, love you in each if you'd let him. He'd do anything so you'd let him.

⁀➷✧･ﾟ

part two

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #skz angst #stray kids angst #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin angst #skz imagines #skz reactions #skz au #skz fanfic #skz scenarios

[intromortal]

hola~ just started following you today, and i really wanna know if you could write a lil smth for sub jungwon being desperate? (you can ignore this if it's too much)

a/n: first ever attampt at dom!reader (sorta kinda), annonie i hope this is good enough <3 tysm for submitting this

virgin sub!y.jw x f!reader

cw: smut, no plot all filth, oral (f!receiving), overstimulation (m!receiving), no protection, creampie, cum eating... it's a sticky mess again guys im sorreyy

okay, but group project partner virgin!jungwon asking you to teach him how to pleasure someone since he’s sooo inexperienced but wants to impress the girl he’s seeing… except it’s you he ends up wanting aurrrr guys..

He’s been lapping at your cunt for what feels like hours, and while he said that he has never eaten pussy before, you learn that Yang Jungwon is indeed a very fast learner. 

You almost feel bad truly, the way he’s trying to get himself off so badly, desperately humping the bed under him but still not uttering a single complaint as you roughly guide his movements with your hand in his hair. 

You already came once but he insisted it took too long for his liking, how is he supposed to impress the girl he’s talking to if he can’t get you off quickly? You insisted it was completely normal and even getting you off at all the first time was praise-worthy anyway, but he wouldn’t hear any of it and who were you to deny getting eaten out by one of the finest men you’ve ever met? You simply happen to enjoy the finer things in life.

So that’s how you end up with his fingers shoved knuckle deep in you curling to hit exactly where you need them to, just like you taught him, while his mouth sucks around your clit.

“Fuck, could stay here all day”, he moans, letting your clit out of his mouth with a pop before flattening his tongue against it, switching to kitten licks. You’re actually impressed when you feel your orgasm build up much, much faster than the one before.

You remove your hand from his hair and bring it next to you, gripping the pillow under your head as your other hand sneaks down to your breast and you start rolling one of your nipples between your fingers.

“Jun- fuck, baby I’m so close”, and you might be imagining things but from the way he’s now moaning in your cunt and his hips are stilled, you think he might’ve just come from hearing you say that and the thought alone brings you to your own high. 

Your mind is still hazy as he’s helping you ride it down with his fingers, you look down to find his head resting on your thigh and his eyes glued to yours. 

“Please, please let me put my dick inside you”, his voice breaks as he starts begging with his eyebrows furrowed, “just for a little bit, I’ll do anything, even just the tip”.

His eyes are teary now and you can’t help but coo at his state as you sit down and take his face in your hands, gently wiping the small tears that started spilling.

“Of course I’ll let you baby”, you whisper and place a kiss on his forehead, hands undoing his pants and finding a mess in his underwear. 

And his cock is hard again already.

Just how many times has he come from humping the sheets? 

“Sorry, it was too much to handle”, it’s so endearing how bashful he gets, cheeks reddening as he avoids your surprised eyes. 

His gaze is focused and he’s biting his lip as he positions his member to your entrance with your help, he enters you slowly and closes his eyes shut as little whines start to spill out of him.

Jungwon thinks he might become obsessed with the way you wrap around his already sensitive and overstimulated cock, and as he starts shallowly moving, he bites his lip hard enough to draw blood. He thinks about anything that can help him not cum in you just a few strokes in but you notice right away.

“Just let go baby, it’s alright”, you say after bringing his face close to yours. And he does exactly that, filling you up with a drawn-out moan of your name. He tries to move away but you wrap your legs around his torso, keeping him inside you. 

“Keep moving”, you order and he immediately starts thrusting into you again, little sobs leaving his lips, so compliant for you.

“Fuck fuck fuck, it hurts.” 

“I know baby, but I promise it’s gonna be worth it, wanna stop?”, you gently caress his hair with one of your hands, giving his neck small kisses. He ignores your question, too preoccupied with how overstimulated he is at that moment. You tighten your legs around him again, one foot pushing into the small of his back to keep him still.

“I’m gonna need an answer to my question, angel face.”

“No no no, wanna continue please I’m so close again”, he’s grinding into you as much as he can with the little space he has, and you think it's adorable.  

So you keep him exactly where he is, letting him hump into you desperately.

Soon he’s shooting his cum inside of you again, you loosen the grip your legs have on him and he’s tumbling back right away, cock still twitching as it spurts out whatever’s left on your mound and thighs.

You giggle at him as he flops back on your bed with his eyes closed, a sweaty and sobbing mess.

God, he’s so cute.

You’re surprised when instead of falling asleep right away he’s getting comfortable with his face between your legs again.

“I didn’t make you cum from that”, he replies before you can question him, sensing your surprise.

“You made me cum earlier, it’s okay. Plus, I already taught you how to make a girl cum with your mouth.”

He nuzzles his head on your thigh again, holding your gaze, “yes, now I wanna learn how to make you cum harder”, he whispers as he pushes his tongue into your hole, taking the mix of both of your juices in his mouth.

#smth abt virgins #wonnie! #hard hours! #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen smut #enhypen #jungwon hard thoughts #enhypen jungwon smut #jungwon hard hours #enhypen jungwon #jungwon x reader #jungwon smut #enhypen fic #enhypen fanfic #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #jungwon #yang jungwon #jungwon fanfic #kpop scenario #kpop smut

[becca-e-barnes]

all i can think about is bucky literally BEGGING to eat your pussy. just on his knees, calling himself a needy slut, just looking up at you with puppy dog eyes while he just begs for your pussy on his mouth. ugh.

Men who are this into eating pussy have a special place reserved for them in Heaven. Hearing someone beg to go down on you is life changing when they know what they're doing 🙈

But you're so right, Bucky would be so willing to degrade himself like that just to be allowed to go down on you. He'd be on his knees, trying to ignore how full his balls feel, begging for you.

"P-please." His voice is so quiet you almost start to question if he said it intentionally. "I need to taste you. I can't think about anything else."

His cock twitches despite how heavy it looks, flushed and angry against the pale skin of his thighs.

"Really?" You tease, tilting his chin up with two fingers so he's looking at your face, rather than your body. "Tell me exactly what you're thinking. Describe it to me"

He doesn't miss a beat. "I'm thinking about how soft you are, how warm and silky your cunt feels under my tongue. I'm thinking about burying my tongue as deep inside you as I can reach and still wishing I could get deeper. I want to feel how wet you are but more than anything, I want to taste how wet you are. I want to dream about it for the rest of the week. Every time I stroke my cock I want to be able to remember how you taste."

Precum drips from his tip and you're not sure you can deny him much longer. Not when he's making it sound so appealing.

"Do you even hear yourself?" You do your very best to act like you don't love the sound of every word that has just come out of his mouth.

"I do. I sound like a shameless, filthy, desperate slut. The type of slut who wants to kiss and lick and worship your sweet pussy until you're so sensitive you have to force me to stop." His hand wanders between his own legs, tugging his stiff length to the mere thought.

He's not above begging and you know that. He'll draw this out as long as he needs to until he gets his way but there's very little sense in that when you want this just as much as he does.

"Lie on the bed." You give him time to make his way over before following, lining yourself up just above his face.

You take a second to smooth his hair, enjoying the feeling of his freshly shaved face against the sensitive insides of your thighs.

He's looking up at you, your eyes meeting his. "Thank you." The relief in his voice is clear right before he grasps your hips and pulls you down onto his mouth.

Fuck, he's incredible. This is the mouth you dream about when you're alone. His tongue massages your clit, stroking back and forth before dipping into your fluttering entrance. You swear he must feel what he's doing to you. You feel your cunt clenching and rippling, your muscles contracting in response to the pleasure and for a second you wonder if he can tell.

He's hungry for this; he has been for hours. He's moaning and slurping obscenely, his tongue buried in your cunt. You don't even need to look over your shoulder to know that he's alternating between fucking his own fist and gripping the base of his shaft tight enough to stop him from spilling his release all over himself too soon.

It's very hard to tell which of you enjoys this more.

#asks answered <3 #becca writes spice #anon #needy!bucky #bucky barnes x reader smut #sub!bucky #bucky barnes smut #subby!bucky #this should technically belong to the shs series #but it fit this prompt too well so I'm using it here #I make the rules 😇 #but that 'thank you' nearly killed me #I've noticed this week that my beige flag is that I get so frustrated when people make assumptions about my capacity #I hate when people say stuff like 'how's the new job? you must be really stressed' #or worse 'things must be getting on top of you' #like ??? #why would you assume I can't handle what I put on my own plate? #I know people mean well but it really bothers me

[joonipertree]

To show someone that you care, is a gift itself. | Sugar Daddy Bakugo Series

Where you show Katsuki what a gift can be.

Tags: Artist!reader, very self indulgent, like guys....please buy me watercolour paper instead of Versace. Watercolour paper is stupid expensive. Im also not skilled enough to actually make the gift so--

Pt 1 Pt 3

Katsuki's birthday had been looming when the two of you started going out, like a weighted shadow. You had spent a very long stressing about what to get him with a budget that wasn't even worth a fraction of what he would buy you.

But, like gift giving was Katsuki's, it was your love language as well. And you'd gotten good at getting heart felt things for people. Admittedly, it took a lot of brainstorming and notes upon notes of what to get.

You'd always go overboard to please the people you cared about, afraid that they'll leave if you didn't cross the limits and bend over backwards for them.

Katsuki had always taken care of you, never asked for anything and your love was returned albeit in a quieter and tsundere manner. So the urge to go above and beyond didn't fester for long, knowing that your bare presence made him warmer.

Your gift idea came when he was on the ring, swift on his feet and solid in the rigidness of his body. You'd brought your sketchbook and while you wanted to keep your eyes on your boyfriend, your hands became busy with large curves and sharp flicks of your pencil that brought dark edges .

You'd made at least 20 quick gestures drawings that were more crude representations of movement for you. But with those and the feelings you trapped in your heart, you made thumbnails and chose one to draw large scale.

One where Katsuki's face was partially blocked by his arm and he gave a blow. His elbows were jagged, muscles taut and rippling. And his eyes sharp and cat like.

The charcoal pencils and sticks used to create tapered lines to create hard surfaces was 340 yen. The watercolour pallete used had messy paint splattered everywhere and its lid broken, having been with you for a good while. The coat over the charcoal was 50 yen hair spray that worked just as well as professional sprays.

It didn't cost a lot but your hands were full of care and by the end of it, you hoped that it'd be something Katsuki would at least like. The man could have the world but all you had was you.

You didn't realize that you were more than enough

Katsuki to lost his voice when you handed it to him at midnight, eyes wide as he stared at him but not him. The layers on layers of paint held emotions that he could only describe as love, meticulously hand picked and felt in strokes. He'd seen HD pictures of his fights, seen videos of them where his sweat and pores were as clear as day. The most he'd thought of them were how his form could improve or how cool he looked.

But what you made, it twisted something in his chest and stung his eyes and filled him to the brim with love so warm and overwhelming that his body wasn't big enough to hold it.

You two had been dating for 4 months, Katsuki had spent that time falling in love with you in ways he didn't think possible. He'd fall with every giggle and kiss and ramble and your face when you were concentrating. He'd never said 'I love you', hoping his actions showed it enough, still too scared to speak it in case it was met with hesitance or silence.

But Katsuki had gently put down the canvas, something you that you'd built, stretched and primed yourself. And while you made eye contact with the walls and ceiling, you explained how the only thing you could come up with was the painting, that you wanted to capture the emotions you felt when you saw him fight. That it wasn't much but---

Katsuki had engulfed you in a hug, hand on the back of your head to press it against him and an arm around your waist. He squeezed you, tried to express all that he was feeling with one hug alone. You felt it, held him tightly and carded your fingers through his hair. With his shoulders shaking, you had an inkling that he had been crying. When he spoke, with a wobbly voice, you were sure that he was.

"I love you." He'd muttered out for the first time.

"I love you more." You whispered back and Katsuki had firmly denied it, that no one could love a person as much as he loved you.

Getting a gift for you became hard after that, because Katsuki sucked at making shit.

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki #mha bakugou #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugou #katsuki x reader #katsuki x you #katsuki x y/n #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bnha fic #bnha x reader #bnha headcannons #bnha fanfiction

[bunny-extract]

need that feral jealous konig so bad 😩

me too! Read this as an exploration of his severely malformed attachment issues…or as him being a horny freak both are valid.

So. König has a huge cuckhold fantasy where he's fucking you in front of your partner. Imagines that partner as Ghost because of course they do not get along, and of course you two do. Drives him absolutely mad, and he is not above taking that jealousy out on you.

His roughness would be sudden and unannounced, but not unwelcome. He'd take his time at your mouth, holds you firm by the hair because he knows how much you like when he gets mean. Works you up with his tongue licking against yours, his fingers pawing heavy at your chest while he thinks about Ghost watching. Could nearly feel the heat of his glare just then. Pissed, and as he should be.

Nobody should treat you so carelessly. Only König. Only to prove a point.

He'd undress you hastily. Hike your shirt up and pull your pants barely down your thighs before he's on you. Would use them to trap your legs together and bend you in half, your ass in the air.

The manhandling gets you hot, whining and reactive beneath him. You'd eat up the attention, and it's enough to make his cock twitch. If he really were taking you in front of your precious fucking lieutenant, König can imagine you'd be even wetter. Would surely ask to hang your pretty little head over the edge of the bed to get fucked. Christ, not that he'd let you. He's going to have Ghost watch, nothing else. König would sooner spill blood than share you like that.

Knees to your chest, he would make you spread yourself for him while he lines himself up. It's humiliating, makes König feel like he's fucking ravaging you when he finally sinks the tip in.

He almost rethinks not prepping you, but you beg him to keep going and he can't. Can't fucking listen to you when you say please. Smothers your mouth with his hand and sinks lower with the new angle.

It'd be slow, but he'd make a good show of pushing his cock into you, inch by inch by fucking inch. You'd feel it good the next morning, and maybe someone will notice the way you limp. How you wince over every bump in the road, when you bend low enough to feel the ache inside of you.

While he's fucking into you his muttering are desperate, promises of "I can make you feel this way whenever you want, you just have to ask." Imagines Ghost would have his throat for that, but his balls are fucking heavy and he's enjoying the way they pat against your ass. Uses the bounce of your body to fuck you silly on his cock.

“Feels so much better when I do it, hm? Like it better this way, don't you?" And you'd go along with it, eyes screwed tight in search of your orgasm. He'd fuck it out of you, hold you down with a hand over your neck, his thumb resting where your pulse is strongest.

He'd draw it out as long as he could, but his orgasm would hit him sudden and unstoppable. You'd still be riding aftershocks, spasming against him when he comes. Spills inside of you, and it's the best orgasm König thinks he's ever had. Watches your eyes go big and wide before they flutter, roll sinfully back behind your lashes.

"Heilige scheiße." And there's ropes of it dripping from his cock, tethering him to you. Drenching the dark hair along his inner thighs, slipping down your ass... Quite a mess, he thinks with a watering mouth.

Ghost would clean it up for you. For the both of you. In his fantasy, at least.

#könig x reader #König smut #ghost x reader #kinda #mw2 smut #könig headcanons #könig mw2 #cod smut #bunnywriting #damn yall the brain rot is intense #i havent written this much in a good year #honestly think könig just wants to fuck ghost but we haven’t gotten there yet B^) #sewn

[forlix]

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞・l.f.

— five times you want to tell your best friend you love him and the time you finally do.

words・7.7k

pairing・idol!felix x gn!reader

genres・fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn w/a happy ending, 5 + 1 trope, idiots in love who are also afraid of love, you do the math

warnings・alcohol consumption, discussions of anxiety, lots of emotional vulnerability, like a surprising amount of crying icl

playlist・jazz bar by dreamcatcher・spring day by bts・through the night by iu・eight by iu ft. suga・house song by searows・not mine by day6

a/n・i borrowed the title of this beautiful day6 song for this fic; give it a listen if you can (especially while reading part four). happy late birthday, lix <333 thank you for being you

One. The door to the café opens with a soft jingle, bringing a chilly draft into the room and causing you to draw your scarf tighter around your shoulders.

Theoretically, you come here to study—but people-watching has become a simultaneous pastime. There was that couple with a pair of samoyeds, so fluffy that they looked like walking clouds; a mother and son, hunched over their croissants, arguing in a classic “don’t cause a scene in public” tone; an elderly woman in bicycle shorts asking for extra shots of espresso in the menu’s most caffeinated item.

And now, there is him.

“Hello,” the ashy-haired stranger says to the barista with a quick, polite bow. “May I have a medium caramel latte? Hot, with sweetener, please. Thank you.”

His voice reminds you of the notes of a cello, of the feeling of running your fingers through tufted velvet. When he turns away from the counter, he’s slipping a card back into his wallet, and you catch a glimpse of long lashes and a scattering of freckles. You cannot see his face, as it’s covered by a black mask, but that only propels the question further: who are you?

And perhaps it is destiny herself who hooks a gentle finger beneath the stranger’s chin and tilts his head upwards, because when he inadvertently steps into a patch of sunlight, his brown irises illuminate like molten amber, and they are fixed upon you.

You feel your lips part, your stomach turn. You don’t know if your cheeks are so warm because of your piping hot tea (your third one today) or because of the newfound eye contact with someone so ethereal.

But you are sure that the corners of the stranger’s eyes crinkle ever so slightly, as if his lips have just curved into a smile beneath his mask.

“Felix,” the barista calls, and you turn the name silently on your tongue.

Maybe you are exhausted from work and not thinking straight. Maybe you are more starved for change than you’ve ever been. Or maybe you’re just prophetic. But you think you sense forever in this man, with his freckled cheeks and pretty eyes.

That is the first time you want to tell Lee Felix you love him.

Two. The second Felix comes into your line of vision, you sense that something is wrong.

You hold up a hand in greeting, and the smile he returns is sincere but muted, as if it pains him to move, to breathe. He sounded weary on the phone earlier—can I see you tonight? Just for a bit—but only now that he’s in front of you do you see the extent of his fatigue, seeping into his sunken shoulders and lightless eyes.

“Hi,” he says once he’s close enough.

“Hey, you,” you answer, rising out of your seat. Instinctively, he extends his arms toward you, and you draw him into a hug that is fleeting and familiar. He smells faintly of laundry detergent and vanilla, and it makes something within you ache, like an oyster searching for its absent pearl.

When you pull away, your hands move to your best friend’s cheeks, cocooning his face so you can get a better look at him. Even under the sparse streetlights, you see that his eyes are slightly bloodshot, the shadows beneath them deep and sullen. Has he been crying? 

“Bad day?” You ask, your hands falling back to your sides.

“The worst,” he returns with a weak smile. 

“Wanna take a walk?”

“Yes, please. How long do I have you for?”

This is what you do when your schedules are too packed for you to make real plans: take strolls wherever is most convenient, for however long either of you can spare. Sometimes that’s five minutes, sometimes five hours. But you know that you need to be here for him tonight.

“As long as you need me,” you say.

You turn around to pick up your drinks (a decaf caramel latte for Felix and a black milk tea for yourself), and you don't see the way his smile comes back a little bigger the second time, the way his cheeks warm slightly under the moonlight.

There’s a small park a few blocks behind your apartment. Granted, it's not a very good park, with only a tiny, sad playground and very little foliage, but it is an excellent stargazing spot, due to it being so dark and desolate. You and Felix decide to head there now, your arms touching as you walk through the quiet residential area.

Ten minutes later, blades of grass are poking the back of your head, and directly above you is a sea of scattered stars, flickering like millions of faulty flashlights. Felix’s voice is leaden when he starts to speak, breaking the park’s fragile silence. He tells you about his fears, about how earlier today they overwhelmed him so much that he wanted to lock himself away from the world and throw away the key. He tells you about his dreams, about how even in his relentless pursuit of them they sometimes still feel as amorphous and unattainable as fragments of mist.

The way he always does when he’s around you, Felix spills parts of himself that he never thought he could entrust to anyone. And you don’t say a word, your knee leaning against his, listening, understanding. (But you wish you could tell him a lot of things: that you care for him more than you ever believed yourself capable; that you hope for his happiness more than your own; that you don’t have the words to heal him, but you would give anything to find them.)

By the time the two of you leave the park, it’s almost midnight, and the streets have fallen silent save for the occasional whoosh of car wheels on cement and the distant lamentations of cricket choirs. You’re making small talk now, and Felix is smiling a little easier. It seems your conversation worked in cheering him up; a temporary fix, you’re sure, like a bandaid where stitches should be, but seeing his eyes crinkle and hearing his laugh again is enough to soothe your worry for the rest of the night, at the very least.

“You’re sure you’ll be okay going back yourself?” You ask once the two of you reach the entrance to your apartment building.

“Yeah, of course.” Felix touches the back of his neck apologetically. “I’m sorry I kept you out so late.”

“Nonsense, Lix. I’m always here for you.”

Felix averts his eyes to his shoes, and you’re caught off guard by his facial expression: exhausted but contemplative, and possessing a sense of tenderness. It is a look that you don’t think you’ve seen before, and you feel your heartstrings pull at its unfamiliarity, its strange softness.

You say your goodbyes, but your "let me know when you get home safe" is cut short when you feel a hand catch your wrist, just as you’re entering the building.

How Felix doesn’t notice your frantic pulse beneath his touch is beyond you, but instead he parts his lips, and his next words resound in your mind as you try and fail to fall asleep that night.

“I can’t explain why, or how—but I feel braver when I’m with you, Y/N. I meant to tell you that earlier.”

And those three words rush to your mind fleetingly, like saltwater crashing against the shores of your mind. Even when the tide has subsided, they remain on the sand, waiting to be read aloud.

“Thank you,” Felix mumbles, “for everything.”

You don’t read out those words, of course. Instead, you reach up to squish Felix’s face and call him a sentimental dork, to which he rolls his eyes affectionately and bats you away, and the moment is over. But when you turn to go, your heart is pounding so loudly that your reply may as well have been a confession.

Three. You sink into your mattress, careful to keep your tea within your mug’s rim, and let out a hybrid of a groan and a sigh that is strikingly reminiscent of an old man lowering himself into a worn armchair.

You can’t remember the last time you had a cold this terrible. It feels as if your lungs took a plunge in a vat of wet cement and then rolled around in gravel immediately afterward. And it’s got you in the mood to do nothing but listen to the heavy drops of rain knocking against your window, curl up with a good show and a hot drink, and bask in your own congestion.

But then your phone, which you left in the bathroom, emits four deafening notification sounds, and you haul yourself back out of bed with a groan-sigh that’s twice as anguished as the last.

When you reach the hellish device, your best friend’s name greets you, and your ire dissipates momentarily.

From: Lix 🐣 Hey hey From: Lix 🐣 We still on for dinner tonight? From: Lix 🐣 Just gonna be me, Minho, Seungmin. Jeongin has a vocal lesson From: Lix 🐣 Please don’t play the “if Jeongin doesn’t go neither do I” card again I’ve had enough of it!!! ENOUGH

You let out a throaty laugh that sounds like one of Minho’s cats battling a hairball, heading back to bed.

From: Y/N 🌙 ahhhh i meant to text you earlier, but i have the worst cold From: Y/N 🌙 no clue how or why i caught it but i feel like fucking shit. it’d be a bad idea for me to come over right now From: Y/N 🌙 sorry :( can we raincheck in a few days? From: Y/N 🌙 (that way jeongin can come too!!!)

Felix dislikes this last text, and you snort into your tea.

From: Lix 🐣 Yeah, of course. Don’t apologize From: Lix 🐣 Do you need anything? You’re eating and sleeping well, yeah? From: Y/N 🌙 sleeping, YES.  From: Y/N 🌙 eating, not really 😅 but i don’t have much of an appetite anyways From: Y/N 🌙 don’t worry about me. i’ll be raring to go in a day or two

Felix starts to type a response, but the gray dots disappear after a bit, and you set your phone face-down on your nightstand. He probably has to get back to work, and you have to get back to your episode.

Slowly, the soporific fragrance of chamomile and the lull of relentless rain start to weigh on your eyelids, and you slump unconsciously into your makeshift fortress of blankets, your show playing to nobody.

Night has fallen by the time the door of your apartment clicks open, and Felix pokes a head into your dark kitchen, cautiously calling out your name. When you don’t respond, he slips inside and moves to your kitchen counter, where he unloads the bags in his arms. A spare key to your place dangles from the opening of his hoodie pocket. 

There’s a quiet knock on your bedroom door, another call of your name—infinitely softer this time, like how one would speak to a dove. But Felix finds you out like a light, even when he closes your laptop and puts it on your desk, checks your temperature with a gentle hand to your forehead. It feels normal enough to let you sleep, but warm enough that he brings a glass of water and two pills of ibuprofen to your nightstand, placed within your reach, should you wake up in the middle of the night needing them.

Using only the slivers of light coming in from the hallway, Felix allows himself to look at your sleeping form. Your breathing is callous but steady; your face pallid but peaceful. And if only you'd seen see the tiny, helpless smile that pulls at his lips; if only you'd heard the pulse protesting against his skin, yelling at him “do something about this, you fucking idiot, and do it soon."

But you don’t see or hear anything; you just speak, instead.

“Stay with me,” you whisper, and Felix’s hand freezes on your doorknob, his eyes widening in the darkness. “Please?”

There is a lengthy period of nothing, during which neither of you makes another noise; there is only the sound of your clock ticking, raindrops rushing against the windows, and Felix’s heart in his ears.

And then he moves.

“C'mere,” Felix murmurs once he’s lying down next to you, and you nestle into his embrace as easily as if you've always belonged there, your face burrowing into the crook of his neck, your arms winding around his waist, searching for him, asking for him.

Felix has always expressed his affection for people through touch, and you’ve gotten used to his constant hand on your shoulder, his leg resting against yours. But he thinks this is the first time you’ve initiated physicality outright, and he feels a concerned pang in his chest at your unexpected vulnerability. He lifts a hand to cradle the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair.

“Gonna get you sick,” you say with a wet sniffle, your voice muffled against him. And Felix presses a kiss to the top of your head, perhaps without thinking as much as he should have; but who can blame him for forgetting to think when he’s holding you the way he is?

“Don’t care,” he answers readily. “I'm not going anywhere.”

At some point before you fall back asleep, you think your mouth actually forms the words I love you, subtly and silently and into the fabric of his hoodie. But you resume your slumber before you can think more of it. (Felix waits until your breathing is steady again, checks your temperature one more time; and only afterward does he allow his eyes to close.)

The next morning, you wake to an empty bed and a Post-It note explaining that Felix had to run to a recording session: Check your kitchen! See u soon x. Accompanied by a small, messy doodle of a baby chick popping out of its egg.

Your face melts into a smile when you see that the fridge is chock-full of fresh groceries and the pantry has been restocked with your favorite snacks, including a batch of Felix’s world-famous sea salt brownies—accompanied by another note with another doodle, this time a crescent moon wearing your sneakers. Sugar is prolly bad for you rn. Pls have in moderation!

When you pull out your phone to thank him for everything, you see his remaining texts from yesterday—and you feel momentarily empty, as if only then noticing that you've been missing a fraction of your soul your whole life.

From: Lix 🐣 I’ll drop by tonight to check on you From: Lix 🐣 Wait for me, okay?

And he is right in front of you, just out of reach.

Four. “This isn’t a bad idea, right?” Chan asks under his breath.

“Nah, they’ll be fine,” Minho replies, clapping a hand on the leader’s shoulder. “Y/N will take care of him.”

A loud yelp comes from up ahead, and the men whip around quickly enough to crack a joint—only to realize that the noise was the opening note of DAY6’s “Not Mine,” and you and Felix have just launched into song so terribly and so loudly that it’s probably awoken the entirety of Seoul.

“And who’s gonna take care of Y/N?”

The two men look at each other for a moment before deciding they’re not interested in talking the two of you out of a disorderly intoxication charge. 

“Let me know when you get back!” Chan hollers after you, and they reenter the karaoke bar in a hurry.

The members decided to go out for karaoke after finishing promotions earlier that week, and Felix invited you to come along. And you might've gone a little overboard with the mango sake, but your level of tipsy is nothing compared to that of the blue-haired boy draped over you.

Felix is rather prone to hangovers, you’ve discovered from past experiences, so the moment he started speaking in some kind of nonsensical Korean-English mutation that not even Chan could understand, the members tasked you with taking him home early. Now, Felix has his arm around your neck, less out of affection and more out of a genuine requirement for support, doing his best to walk in a straight line. He hasn't stopped grinning for the last hour, and it doesn’t seem like he’s going to run out of energy anytime soon, not as long as there’s more of DAY6’s discography to butcher.

In spite of your foggy mind, you're well aware that your best friend has never been prettier. He sets the bar high as it is, but then you throw in the flushed lips and cheeks, the lopsided, ditzy grin, the wine-kissed complexion, and life becomes terribly difficult for you. It doesn’t help that alcohol amplifies his proclivity for physical contact—he's been attached to your hip all night, holding your waist, pulling you into incidental hugs.

Needless to say, your current situation is a bit precarious; but you don't know that. Not yet.

The two of you finish your disrespectful rendition of “Not Mine” just as you pass the apartment’s front desk, and it is only when you see the deadly look that the receptionist gives you over the brim of his glasses that you finally feel sober again. You have the sense to incline your head in apology. Felix, however, launches into “You Were Beautiful” without a care in the world.

You dig a pointed elbow into his ribs as you hit the up button, and his singing abruptly falters with a pained huff. "Ow."

“Take an intermission, superstar,” you say. “The receptionist looks like he’s ready to throttle us.”

“Ah, he would never. We’re tight,” he returns, and before you can stop him he’s lifting his head, raising his voice. “Have a good night, Mr. Seo!”

Your nose scrunches into an apprehensive wince—but instead, you think you hear a hint of a smile in the man's cool reply.

“You too, Mr. Lee. Keep your voices down, please.”

“Yes, sir!” You and Felix reply in unison. Felix gives you a smile that says I told you so before he nestles his cheek against your shoulder, and you shake your head. Nobody is immune to the boy’s brightness.

Entering the building seemed to be effective in calming Felix down. The elevator ride up is silent save for a bit of quiet humming, and you finally see a bit of sleep on his face when you open the door of his dorm and turn on the living room lights. He lets you escort him to his bathroom without a word.

“I’ll be here if you need me,” you say, reaching to pat his cheeks a couple times. “Be careful in there.”

“M’kay. Thank you," he says with a drowsy smile, and closes the door.

You pull out your phone and open up your messages with Chan, remembering his parting request.

To: Chan 🐺 we got back safe!! To: Chan 🐺 lix is gonna be okay. i'll take care of him

A few minutes later, a notification appears at the top of your screen; Chan left hearts on both of your messages and sent two in response.

From: Chan 🐺 Thanks, good to hear :) you get some rest too, okay? From: Chan 🐺 Bro tore that sake UP

You begin to type back a retort—give me a break it was basically JUICE—when you hear Felix call your name, his voice muffled through the bathroom door.

“What's up?” You answer.

“I think I’m...stuck.”

Now what the hell does that mean?

“Can I come in?”

“Mhm.”

You open the door, and your attempt to suppress your laughter fails with flying colors. Felix is well and truly stuck in his crewneck, the gray material swathed around his head, his arms positioned in some kind of advanced pretzel formation.

“You are a hot mess, Lee Yongbok," you sing, moving toward him, and he whines from inside his cotton prison.

“Please don’t kick me while I’m down.”

Grinning, you bring your fingers to the hem of his top and attempt to lift it over his head. He’s managed to tangle himself quite impressively, and the next few minutes are spent with you trying to extract him, like he’s that one nose hair that your tweezers have never been able to reach, all while he's moaning and groaning about the fabric catching on his earrings, about his joints not being able to handle this kind of pressure anymore.

He emerges from the crewneck a while later looking positively disgruntled. You toss the gray mass onto the counter, proud of your handiwork.

“So maybe I‘m a hot mess,” he concedes. “A little bit.”

“That's alright. We all have our moments,” you giggle. “Come on, let me help you with your jewelry.”

For a second, he looks like he’s about to protest—but the look you give him reminds him that his motor functions are currently on strike.

“Okay,” he mumbles adorably.

You position yourself a little closer to Felix and lift your hands to the nape of his neck, where the clasp of his chain lies. It takes you a few tries to undo it, and you end up having to use the mirror above the sink for guidance. Soon, there is a soft click. You set the chain down next to the crewneck before your hands return to the sides of his face, this time to tuck long, light blue strands behind the cuffs of his ears. Your fingers run over the curves of his silver earrings.

“Are these bothering you at all?” You ask nonchalantly. “I forgot you had so many piercings.”

In your peripheral vision, you see Felix’s lips move, but no sound comes out. Puzzled, you move your eyes to meet his, and it takes you one blink’s worth of time to understand the source of his speechlessness.

Somewhere between your reaching up to touch his necklace and the present moment, you’ve come incredibly, dangerously close to him. Close enough that you can count the freckles that speckle his skin like fallen stars, that you can feel the heat of his body against your own, that Felix’s eyes are nearly crossed trying to maintain eye contact with you.

Your heartbeat lodges itself firmly in your throat, and your thoughts evaporate into complete and utter disarray. There are three differently-worded apologies on the tip of your tongue within seconds. You immediately start to pray that he won’t remember this tomorrow morning. And your strongest impulse is to move; to get as far away from him as possible, before either of you does anything you'll regret.

But there is something that overwhelms your every instinct, and stops you from budging an inch. And that is the way Felix is looking at you, unblinking brown eyes filled with something that doesn’t have a name. It is the same tender expression that’d surprised you the first time you saw it, and it is with a spiraling stomach that you finally realize what that expression is.

You reach your conclusion a second after he does.

Felix’s hand lifts to cradle your jaw, his face moving closer to yours. Your foreheads touch, wisps of his hair falling over the bridge of your nose, your senses engulfed by the vanilla of his cologne and the touch of sweet wine on his breath. The scene is as delicate as a dragonfly’s tail dipping into a pond’s surface; even a minuscule disturbance would shatter this limbo instantaneously.

A part of you wishes that it would, but nothing does. There is only his pulse, perceptible through the thin cloth of his tank top, vehement beneath your fingertips—and your heart, naked and frail, sitting upon the palm of his hand.

Felix doesn’t push you away; he doesn’t kiss you. He does something far worse.

“I love you,” he whispers.

A few seconds. That is how long you stand there for, with every word of every language you know inaccessible, every qualm and doubt and source of anxiety that plagued your mind moments before now distant memories, every ounce of your energy channeled into keeping yourself upright.

But the few seconds feel like forever. The same way he has always felt like forever to you. The same way you imagined you would spend forever loving him, close enough for him to love you back, but far enough that he’ll never know the true nature of your affection: greater and truer than anything anyone would ever call friendship.

An urgent question suddenly surfaces in your mind: is he still drunk? He was falling up, down, and sideways minutes ago. Surely this was an intoxicated slip of the tongue. But you discern the slight tremble to Felix’s breathing and the intensity in his heavy-lidded gaze, all far too intentional, far too conscious to be wine-induced—leaving behind one impossible possibility.

You should be having your happy tears kissed from your face right now. You should be over the moon, relishing in the sensation of two stars aligning at long fucking last, the way you’ve dreamed of since the very first time you laid eyes on Felix.

But instead, you just feel inexplicably and profusely afraid.

You won’t remember the specifics of the next few minutes. You think you stumble away from him and whisper I’m sorry through watering eyes, though you don’t really know what for. He sputters something in return, his tone so desperate and confused that you feel your heart break to pieces on the spot. You apologize again, leave the bathroom, and move towards the apartment door as if your life depends on it. In your peripheral vision, you notice the crease of concern on Mr. Seo’s face when you stalk past him, tears now flying freely down your cheeks. You run into Minho and Jeongin when you step out of the building, and you see the worry that creases their faces, hear their voices calling your name. Jeongin's hand closes around your wrist—are you okay?! What the fuck happened?—but you do not, can not say anything, not right now.

And then you are alone again, and you briskly walk the two miles back to your apartment. Your mind and heart are every bit as foggy as the somber night sky that hangs over your head.

Five. When the two of you step out of the restaurant and into the evening, Felix turns around to face you, launching into his best tour guide walk.

“And, with that,” he says with a glowing smile, “we are nearing the end of our tour of Sydney.”

“Noooo,” you lament, reaching your arm out. Felix falls back into step beside you and links it with his, the movement like clockwork. Your jackets scrunch up together where your elbows bend. “Already?”

“Okay, the tour’s been going on for two days and you haven’t paid a cent for my toil. Don’t push your luck.”

Your laughter spills into the otherwise quiet avenue, the setting sun throwing shadows across the cement, but it always feels like midday when you have the brightest man in the world by your side.

When the two of you discovered you had a free weekend on the same days, Felix conjured up the idea of going home—and suggested that you go with him. You’d freaked out for a bit, but then Felix reminded you that his mom texts you on your birthday and that you’re on multiple different subscription plans with his sisters, and you collected yourself quite quickly. There was a lot of cheering over the phone when Felix informed his family that they’d finally get to meet you in person.

But such a fast trip to the other side of the world proved to be no easy feat. Felix took on the task of piecing together a travel plan that would cover most of his favorite spots in forty-eight hours. The last two weeks were filled with him fretting over the details and you fretting over him, asking time and time again if you could help with anything, only for him to shoo you away with a single hand and a pointed “you are my guest. Now leave me.”

With assistance from every other resource at his disposal, though, he pulled it off, and the weekend has been wonderful thus far.

“I think that was some of the best food I’ve ever had, seriously,” you hum. “I’ll be dreaming about those appetizers for the rest of my life.”

“I'm glad. It took a Socratic seminar to choose the place, after all."

(The Socratic seminar in question: a two-hour FaceTime call and an intense match of rock-paper-scissors between him and his siblings, aimed to decide on where Felix would take you for dinner the second night. Only for his mom to ignore all of their efforts and insist upon her own choice of restaurant instead—no ifs, ands, or buts.)

“We have to try your sisters’ recommendations the next time I visit, don’t we?”

“Yes," he returns, shuddering. "I think my family is done for if we don’t."

He has one place left to take you, and the two of you head there now, shoulder to shoulder, arm in arm.

A month has passed since that night.

You’ve tried with every fiber of your being to put the whole thing from your mind, of course to no avail. You see Felix’s flushed lips and gentle gaze every time you blink; you hear his “I love you” every time you’re alone, the words whispered in the wind and dragged over the earth, in tandem with your footsteps.

You wanted to fucking die of awkwardness in the few days following, but it was never an option for you to avoid Felix for long. The two of you still went on convenience store runs together; still met up for coffee before work; still continued your business as usual, against all odds. And you owed it all to Felix and how he knows you better than you know yourself. He didn’t try to talk to you when he sensed that you had nothing to say; nor did he try to bring you back when you felt miles away. He would just silently slip a pack of your favorite cookies into your grocery basket or order your drink on your behalf.

Felix had questions and wanted answers; there was no doubt about that. But he held his tongue, granted you as much space as you needed to come back to him. And you did, in your gradual, meticulous way.

You’re finally going to bring it up tonight. You’ve planned to since the day you confirmed the trip, and you hope that the final stop of the tour will be the perfect place to bite the bullet.

“We’re here,” Felix says.

The two of you have arrived at the bank of a wide river, and you’re at a temporary loss for words. To your right is a bridge that spans the distance of the water, and to your left is a stunning, panoramic view of the city of Sydney. Twilight has turned the buildings into dark silhouettes against the autumn sunset, and the water reminds you of a palette of oil paints with how it reflects the pinks and oranges in the sky.

Felix feels you tighten your hold around his arm, and he smiles when he sees the wonder in your eyes. He wishes he could see this place for the first time again.

“Not bad, huh?”

“No,” you murmur. “Not at all.”

“C’mon.”

Felix leads you to the center of the bridge, where he props his elbows atop the metal railing and looks over the water. You join him and pull out your phone, but no settings or adjustments render your camera capable of capturing the landscape's beauty.

(Until Felix throws up a peace sign and pokes his head into the corner of your frame. Then it stands a fighting chance.)

“What is this place?” You ask, your shoulder touching his when you also lean over the railing. “Why are we the only ones here?”

“Crazy, right?” Felix says proudly. “I dunno. I think it might be private property, or something. But it’s only a few blocks away from my house and on the way I used to take to school, so I used to come here all the time, always around this time of day.”

Felix’s gaze moves over the sky, oblivious to the fact that his eyes hold whole rainbows of their own.

“There was never anyone around, but I could still hear the birds chirping and the wind in the leaves. It felt like a corner of the world had been sealed off just for me. I’m glad to see that nothing’s changed.”

Some time passes, and Felix tells you more stories about this peculiar bridge: how he asked someone to formal and got rejected and came here to reflect on his actions; how he had to take two different buses every day because his school was so far away from his house, but he always stopped here to feed the families of mallards that came out to swim in the mornings, even if it meant he’d be late; how this was the last place he went to before moving to South Korea, because he knew he’d miss this nook of Sydney most.

Of all the places you've visited, you think this one will remain with you longest. As time elapses, the colors of the sunset augment and deepen, dyeing the world in ways that remind you of the aurora. And then there is the man, wearing a gentle smile to match his softened features, his voice to your ears what honey is to a sore throat, telling you about his past, letting you into yet another chamber of his soul.

You are in no way prepared to butcher the sanctity of this moment, but you know that you can only run for so long and so far. You owe it to him. You owe it to yourself.

When the sun’s final rays are clinging the faraway mountaintops, Felix lifts himself off the railing and stands up straight. “Ready to go home?"

And your hand finds his, the pads of your fingers cold against his skin. Felix is surprised at first, but then he sees the hint of sadness in your eyes and the tension in your shoulders, and he understands what’s coming.

“I want to talk to you about that night,” you say.

Felix doesn’t respond for a few seconds. But when he does, his voice is so soft and so infuriatingly kind that hearing it makes you want to sob.

“...you don’t have to, Y/N.”

“No. I do,” you return, startling even yourself with the firmness in your voice, "I don’t want to keep dancing around the topic, not when you’ve been waiting for as long as you have.”

You feel Felix’s gaze on your face, as if he’s trying to read between your lines, and then he yields with a slight incline of his head.

“Okay.” And the stage is yours.

You don't start talking right away, your mind reeling with the effort to organize everything you feel and verbalize everything you want to tell him. It isn’t until Felix gives your hand a gentle squeeze—you’ve forgotten that you’re still holding his—that you feel rooted in the moment again.

It’s Felix you’re talking to; your soulmate, your sunlight. Nothing you are about to say will ever change that. This, you believe with every fiber of your being. 

So you take a deep breath.

“When you said those words,” you begin, and the words sound alien in your voice, despite how many times you’ve rehearsed this conversation in your head, “I couldn’t process a thing. I was so happy, but I was so, so scared. I’ve spent the last month trying to figure out why I was so scared, and I can’t say that I know for sure yet, but I have a much better idea now, and—it’s a lot of things.

“For as long as I can remember, I have only ever been able to love profoundly and deeply, with everything in me. And over time, I led myself to believe that nobody would ever be able to understand or reciprocate my love, not in the manner I want most.”

You feel yourself starting to waver, but you find strength in his touch.

“But you changed that, Felix. You walked into that café that afternoon with your voice and your smile, and suddenly I’d found you—someone who experiences life the way I do, who loves the way I love. And every day since, I’ve been surrounded by you and your effortless warmth and your beautiful soul. It was only a matter of time before I started hoping, constantly and stupidly, that you would one day love me, the same way that I—”

Your voice catches in your throat like a heel slamming into car brakes, “love you” hanging so dangerously from the tip of your tongue that you’re stunned it doesn’t fall out right away.

“But that’s why I’m fucking terrified,” you go on. “When you told me you loved me, I felt like I could fly. But I also felt like I was falling—and maybe this is because I was still tipsy, I'm not really sure—but in that moment I saw a world where we weren't there to catch each other, where something had gone horribly wrong and I'd wake up one morning and you’d—you’d just be a distant memory.

“And that was the thought that shook me so badly: losing you. Leaving you.” You’re crying now, tears paving golden trails against your cheeks. “For whatever reason, that was the first thing that came to mind, and it broke me.”

You need to wrap it up, and fast, if your faltering voice and racing heart are any indication.

“I meant it when I apologized to you that night. I’m sorry, Lix. I’m sorry I made everything so fucking complicated. I’m sorry that I ran away. I’m sorry that I hurt you, or worried you. But I want you to know that I feel more for you than you will ever understand; I just need a little more time to put it into words. So, wait for me—”

Your eyes squeeze shut, and you finally cave, your last word coming out in a shattered rasp.

“—please.”

And the syllable has barely left your mouth when Felix lets go of your hand, only to bring his arms around you and pull you to his chest with such urgency that the breath momentarily leaves your lungs.

When you fall against him, you fall entirely apart. You have no idea where all the feelings are coming from, only that they’re suddenly overwhelming your every sense. And you start to cry, really cry, your fingers seeking refuge in his jacket, in his hair. 

The sun departs at last, and night starts to fall. You lose track of how long you remain in this position, shaking with hushed sobs, fighting to regain control of your emotions. But Felix stays with you through it all, muted tears of his own intermingling with yours in the material of his scarf. He holds you carefully yet fiercely, like you really will crumble if he lets go.

And he waits, because of course he does. He would wait lifetimes for you.

One. The way you thaw is like melting snow.

It happens under your nose for the most part, but it is slow, sure, and irreversible, and you open your eyes one morning only to realize that the world outside has changed—and so have you.

You roll over and pick up your phone. There are unread messages from Felix sitting in your notifications, probably confirming the plans you made to get coffee before work today, but you put them on hold for now. Instead, you open up your camera roll and find an album, labeled with a sun emoji and yellow heart.

You made this a few months after you met Felix, and you’ve doted on it since, in the sense that you update it almost every day. Funnily enough, though, you’ve never looked through the album just to look through it. Maybe because you’ve never had the time or felt the impulse, but more likely because you know that the album is a visual time capsule of your relationship with the most important person in your life—which has never been purely platonic for you, despite how hard you’ve tried to change your heart.

Looking through it would mean acknowledging your true emotions, something you’ve never felt ready for.

Now, you open the album without a second thought, a preemptive smile on your lips. And you find yourself swept out of your bed and thrown back inside each of the pictures you see, reliving the moments as vividly as if you’re watching them on film.

This is one of your favorites, taken during a late-night tteokbokki run to a small restaurant behind Felix's company building. Felix was laughing so hard at one of your stories that he could only take bites of his meal every five minutes. His face had broken into a dazzling grin, his figure blurring as he lurched forward in his seat, trying to pull his hood over his face in secondhand embarrassment. Snap. He is always handsome, extraordinarily so, but you think you love the way he looks here most of all: every guard of his lowered, carefree, happy.

Another is from the first time you met Chan. Nowadays, your interactions with the boys consist mostly of running into them at Felix's dorm and making friendly small talk. But it's always been different with the oldest member. The first time Felix introduced the two of you, you clicked straightaway, and you had to have spent four hours after dinner just talking, scouring the city for something cold to eat. By the end of the sweltering summer night, the three of you were perched atop a short stone barrier in a secluded corner of Seoul, right outside the best bingsu place in all of South Korea. Felix had leaned over to steal the last cube of mango from Chan’s bowl, to Chan's dramatic protest. Snap. And Chan is like a brother to you now; you will never be able to fathom how much light Felix has brought to your life, be it through him or the people he loves.

A computer screen displaying a League of Legends scoreboard, in which Felix has died more times than there were minutes of the game. Snap. You (not sober) in the center of Felix's living room, your body poised in what is supposed to be the chorus of “Queencard," Felix and Bin completely losing their shit on the couch. Snap. His head bowed in anguish over a bowl of brownie batter after he mistakes salt for sugar. Snap. A low-quality, tiny Felix on stage, the brightest grin on his face when he finally manages to spot you in the nosebleeds. Snap. Your dining table creaking under the weight of all the gifts he got you for your last birthday. Snap. Him and one of your best friends from home, arms around each other, peace signs thrown up, beaming. Snap.

There are countless more, and they are all so incredibly near and dear to you, all thanks to the freckled boy in each. 

You respond to Felix's messages (“be there soon!”), and then move to get dressed. There is a new sense of certainty in your gait when you emerge from your building and into the quiet morning.

The weather is lovely, the fresh sunlight cream-colored against a cloudless sky, the light breeze shuffling the new leaves about. A hound’s ears twitch when you hurry past its home; it is too drowsy to investigate your presence further. The only sounds in the air are the chattering of sparrows in the branches above you and the soles of your shoes, moving quickly across the sidewalk. The wonder in the world is more palpable to you today than it’s ever been.

Soon, the chalk-written menu and hand-carved wooden sign of your favorite café come into view, and you open the door. There are only a few customers inside, and you spot your person right away: his long, dark hair partially pinned back, his figure flattered by a black long sleeve and jeans. He has a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, as well as two drinks on the table before him: one caramel latte and one black milk tea.

When he hears the door jingle, he looks up, and the smile that melts across his face is so fond that you can’t believe there was ever a time when you doubted his feelings for you.

The way his loving smile mirrors onto your face is as inevitable and involuntary as destiny herself.

“Hi,” Felix says, rising from his seat.

“Hey, you,” you answer. “Wanna take a walk?”

And so you do.

You link arms, as always; you try each other’s drinks, as always; you manage to talk about everything and nothing all at once, as always. But when his company building comes into view, your footsteps come to a halt, and your hand fastens around the cuff of his sleeve.

“Hey, Lix—"

When his eyes meet yours, the sun hits them just right, and you have not known anything as clearly and certainly as you do right then.

“—I love you.”

Felix can only stare, his eyes so wide that you can see the whites of them all around, his straw falling from his parted lips.

Then, a smile starts to creep across his face like spilt syrup.

“Say it again.”

“I love you, Lee Yongbok.”

He sets his bag and drink down on the pavement. “Again, please.”

“I love you,” you repeat, starting to laugh. “I love you, I love you, god, I love you, Felix, so fucking much—”

Felix brings his hands to either side of your face, leaning his forehead against your own. And this time, there is no hesitation, no fear—only starlight when he tilts your chin up and finally, finally presses his lips to yours.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, hordes of them flapping so fervently you feel as though you might take off into the air, but you seek out his elbows, then his shoulders, and then the back of his neck, anchoring yourself to the earth, to him. Felix kisses you like he will never be able to again, and it is all you can do to savor how the curve of his smile feels against your own; how he murmurs the words “I love you, too” in between breaths. He tastes like sugar and smells like shampoo. He feels like forever.

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

#lee felix x reader #felix x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #lee felix #felix #stray kids #skz #lee felix imagines #lee felix fluff #felix imagines #felix fluff #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #skz imagines #skz fluff #stray kids scenarios #felix scenarios #*oneshot #*writing #IT'S DONEEEE IT IS FINALLY DONEE #i hope you like reading as much as i loved writing it! #i'm ngl i'm quite nervous because this is the first full-length fic i've posted on this blog so #any and all feedback would be so so appreciated! much love <3

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

You asked for Spencer Reid and Reader requests, particularly plus size, and I am so down bad for that man! Especially later seasons him.

Could I have one where he and the reader are intellectual peers but also enemies? Like she's on the team and just as wicked smart as him and into old literature and languages but they constantly butt heads? And the team knows they really just have feelings for each other, but they'll never admit it. Maybe the reader admits it to Penelope or someone one night drinking that he's hot but she never thought he'd actually sleep with her bc she's fat, but she'll take his attention any way she can get it. Maybe Spencer overhears and proceeds to show her just how hot he finds her arguing with him? 👀 Thank you in advance, girlie!

༉‧₊˚. 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

— pairing: spencer reid x plus size!reader

— summary: you and spencer hate each other, that much is obvious... right?

— warnings: very surprisingly crude language in this, self-doubt, implied insecurities, misunderstandings, e2l, they're in love and everyone else knows besides them, i made them dorks i don't apologize, mentions of wet dreams, mentions of male masturbation, dirty thoughts, kissing, stripping, vaginal fingering, spencer's dirty mouth, lots of reassurance 'cause i'm a sap, spencer reid #1 consent king, missionary, unprotected sex, sex god spencer?!?! (he does his research), pleasure dom!spencer, switch r & spencer, heavy praise, and a fluffy ending to tie this all up in a nice little bow!

— wc: 3136

⋆ a/n: okay i do admit that this is RIDICULOUSLY long, but i knew exactly what i was getting into writing this and honestly i had so much fun! i don't think i've ever created such characters that have so much chemistry with each other, so cheers to that! (unedited unfortunately :[)

masterlist | AO3

As soon as you hear Spencer’s voice, you make a point to groan obnoxiously loud.

“And just to think I would be able to go home without a headache today.” 

You could feel the glare from said man burning a hole in the back of your head, so you swivel your chair around in order to face the music – in a pleasurable masochist kind of way. His annoyingly handsome face was twisted up in irritation – much to your glee – his eyebrows turned down, and his perfect, plush lips pulled into a deep frown. 

You could tell you had interrupted him saying something that he deemed important, most likely a fact that you and him would go back and forth on, and you couldn’t be more pleased with yourself.

“Funny you mention that seeing as though your voice is the cause of mine.” He bit back, his eyes narrowed into slits. “Aw, you think of my voice?” You tease. “Only in my nightmares.” You wink at him. “You still think about me.”.

“You know what this reminds me of?” Luke piped up from his own desk, drawing the attention from your other intrigued co-workers in the bullpen. “Oh here we go.” Tara said in amusement at Luke’s rambling.

“Back when I was a kid there was this girl that I went to school with, and I would always tug on her hair or try to trip her,” His voice was almost reminiscent. “Everyone thought I hated her, when in reality I was just trying to get her attention.”

“Ah,” Matt said with a smile, “The classic ‘boy bullying the girl he likes,’ or in this case, it’s the girl this time.” Your cheeks began to heat and your eyes went wide, Spencer’s own face and the tips of his ears turning an admirable pink hue.

“Absolutely not -”

“What? No -”

Both Spencer and you stumbled over each other to try and defend yourself, but you didn’t have a chance because Emily’s voice cut through whatever was about to be said next, the woman making haste from her office and into the room with the round table.

“Alright you guys, enough. We’ve got a case.”

“To a job well done!” Penelope cheered as she held up her citrusy alcoholic beverage in the air, signaling she wanted to toast.

You smiled indulgently at the woman sitting next to you, clinking your glass with hers noisily and flickering your eyes over to where a disheveled Spencer Reid sat. You didn’t say anything to him though, because you’re a big ol’ softie and like to let the boy wonder rest before you have him back on his toes.

His eyes met yours the same time your glasses collided. You wish you could say that the vibrations from the clinking was the cause of the shiver that forced its way down your spine, but you knew better. 

It was like the rest of the bar disappeared, the sound of the others joining in on your rejoicing fell on deaf ears. You could have sworn his dark brown puppy-dog eyes drank you in before he looked away and cleared his throat, taking a rather comically large gulp of his water.

Your eyelashes fluttered like a thousand butterflies wings as you rushed to drink your own beverage.

“Okay, what was that!?” You felt Penelope’s finger poke at your ribs before you actually heard her. 

“Ow - fuck! What was what?” You yelped quietly, your hand reaching down to bat away her stabbing digits. “The - the -” She fought to portray her words before her face lit up when she found the correct ones, “The eyefucking!” 

Your stomach erupted in butterflies, “Eyefucking? What eyefucking?” You asked with a scoff, hiding your blush behind the rim of your mug. 

“Oh, please, don’t give me that.” It was Penelope’s turn to scoff at you. “Everybody knows that you and Spencer like each other.” She said it almost like it was a fact, leaning forward to take a smug sip of her drink through the miniature black straw.

Spencer knew listening in on Penelope and your conversation was inappropriate; but in his defense, you guys weren’t really quiet about what you were talking about.

“I -” He heard you begin, “It’s one-sided.” Was all you said before draining your beer. “So you admit it!” Penelope exclaimed with a gasp.

Spencer felt his eyes go wide at her words, but there was this desperate feeling that spread throughout his body; one that caused his fingers to twitch and the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

“When you put it like that it sounds childish!” You complained slightly, biting at the meat of your lip. “I… I’m just not his type you know? Like - you know better than anyone that guys don’t pay attention to girls like us, so you have to learn to improvise.” You were cringing at your own words, but the liquid in your cup was enough to loosen your tongue and lower your inhibitions.

“Was me choosing to constantly argue with him the smartest way to try and peak his interest? No, but I knew he liked a challenge and well… it definitely wasn’t the proudest conclusion I ever came to, but what was I supposed to do? It isn’t like Spencer would date me let alone actually want to sleep with me.”

Spencer wanted to argue with you about how wrong you were, to tell you about every thought he’d ever had about you.

He wanted to tell you about how much you frustrate him, how at first, he thought he hated you and it took him an embarrassingly long time to realize he hated how badly he wanted you; hated how many dirty dreams he had included you and that plush body of yours. He’d wondered how soft you were, how you smelled and tasted. 

Did your moans and whines sound as enchanting as your laugh? Did your eyes twinkle the same way when you were about to cum? 

Those thoughts kept him up at night and his hands in his pants, stroking himself to his unlimited imagination all revolved around you. Those were the days that he was more prone to pick fights with you, mostly because he was embarrassed, ashamed, and quite frankly plain ol’ horny.

Spencer thought you were just so sexy, especially when he had managed to light that fire under your ass that really got you going. He wasn’t a sadist or a masochist by any means, but he loved when you yelled at him. So, for you to think so lowly of yourself it almost drove him mad because you didn’t know.

But you were going to.

You were going to kill whoever was bothering you on your day off.

The knocking was unexpected, but so was who was responsible for the noise.

“Spencer?” You asked in surprise. 

Usually you were prepared for your exchanges with the man, but if your pajamas were anything to go by, you were anything but. Spencer felt his mouth go dry at the sight of your tits sitting braless in a thin undershirt, your soft tummy slightly straining against the cotton material and a pair of shorts that look like they were practically strangling your thighs.

The only thing he could really say was… “Do you know how infuriating you are?”

Your eyebrows furrowed and you crossed your arms over your chest, and little did you know the action pressed the tops of your breasts over the hemline. “Excuse me?” You almost scoffed, “Please don’t tell me you came all the way here just to argue with me.”

“No I - fuck just let me finish.” This was not how he wanted this to go. You looked like you wanted to say something but your curiosity made you choose to stay silent.

“Do you know why you’re so infuriating?” He asked, taking a tentative but careful step towards you. “Because you haunt my every living thought. I see you when I’m awake, I see you when I’m asleep. I can’t… I can’t escape you! I can’t escape how I feel about you.”

Your eyes were wide and your brows were furrowed; it looked like you almost couldn’t breathe.

“But you want to know the worst part?” His hand lands on your cheek and his thumb gently caresses the skin there. “You have the audacity to think that I wouldn’t want you.” 

“You want me?” You asked in disbelief. “But I… but I thought you hated me? I mean - I haven’t been all that nice to you.” You attempt to joke weakly, but your body is on fire; your stomach is tangled up in knots. You were trembling in excitement at his words but in disbelief too.

“Do you have any idea how much I love arguing with you?”

You laughed at his words, your lips slipping into a small smirk as you threw your arms around his neck in an act of boldness. “Oh yeah?” You hummed seductively. “You wanna show me how much?”

“Yeah,” He replied breathlessly. “I do.”

And just like that his mouth was on yours and a long leg shot out behind him to shut your front door. The slam made you yelp, but it quickly melted into a giggle against his lips when he reconnected them.

Spencer tugged you closer to him, and God the feeling of your body was so much better than anything his subconscious could have conjured up. You felt so soft and the front part of your torso pressed against his chest in a way that if he didn’t have you naked under him soon he was going to go crazy.

“Where’s your bedroom?” He didn’t want to pull away from you, but he wanted to do this right.

“I didn’t know you were a gentleman, Reid.” You teased with a dazed smile on your face. “There’s a lot of things that you don’t know about me.” You quirked a brow. “Oh really? How about you tell me?”

“Later,” He said with a lazy shake of his head, “Later.”

His hand reached down to cup your ass, your crotch rubbing on the large boner restrained by his pants. You moaned quietly at the feeling, and found yourself saying, “Down the hall and to the left.”

When you arrived, he couldn’t keep his hands off you; they grabbed at your back, ass, waist, hips. There was so much of you that he had no idea where to start. All he knew is that he wanted all of you right now.

“Can I take your shirt off, please?” His words almost came out as a whine and it welcomed a fresh wave of arousal in your panties. “Take off whatever you want, I’m yours.” A reassuring confession that Spencer had no idea he needed to hear. 

His lithe, veiny hands tugged at your top first, dragging it over your head and throwing it somewhere random. Your pants and panties were next to go and you couldn’t help but shiver at Spencer's intense stare.

“I’m uh- feeling a little vulnerable here, could you lose a layer or two?” 

The man blinked rapidly, his fingers shooting to undo the buttons on his cardigan. “Yes, yeah of course, sorry I -'' You grabbed the shaky digits. “Calm down, take it slow. I’m not going anywhere.” It was a light jab meant to ease his nerves. For a moment he looked unsure but you gave an encouraging smile.

After his clothes disappeared he held you by your waist, walking you backwards until your calves hit the bed. You quickly hurried to scale the mattress until your head hit the pillows.

“God,” Spencer gulped. “This is so much better than what I imagined.” You giggled slightly. “As much as I appreciate your flattery, I want you to fuck me. Now.” You said it with such simplicity that his eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets at your crudeness.

He swallowed his shock. “Whatever the lady wants.”

He hurried to crawl over your leaning body; you cup his cheek in an act of haste, dragging him down to lay on top of you. His own hands didn’t stop their determined trail, tracing the soft planes of your plush body until he reached your wet cunt.

You whine loudly at the feeling of Spencer’s fingers stroking your damp slit.

“So responsive.” He murmured with delighted smirk. You go to say something snarky but you’re quickly cut off when he begins to rub tight circles on your clit. “‘M sensitive.” You gasp against his lips, your back arching and pressing further into him.

His body falls to the side, laying next to your naked one with a cheek balanced on his fist. “I’m gonna make you cum on my fingers first,” Spencer whispers into your ear. His ring finger entered your warmth slowly and he felt himself choke on his words. You mewled, a hand shooting up to tangle in his long, curly hair, the other grabbed at his wrist.

“Then, I’m gonna make you cum on my cock.” After a few experimental twists of his wrist, his middle finger joins the first. Your breathing speeds up with every movement of his digits. 

“Afterwards, ‘m gonna clean you up and take you out to eat.” Your brain could barely process what he was saying, but every word that left his mouth added to the swarming butterflies in your gut – which felt so juvenile seeing as though he was already knuckle deep inside you.

“And when we get home, I’m gonna eat this sweet pussy for dessert.” 

Your eyelashes were fluttering rapidly, your hips moving frantically on his fingers in an attempt to try and get him deeper. Spencer must have sensed what you needed, because with a few firm swipes on your sensitive clit sent you spiraling over the edge.

“Spencer, Spencer, Spencer… I - I -” Your gummy walls squeezed his digits, and the only thing keeping you grounded was the heat coming from his body.

“Wow.” You laughed breathlessly. “Wow indeed.” He mimics with the same amount of amusement.

“Are you okay to keep going?” He asks. 

“Are you kidding?” The look on his face was almost laughable, and you gave his naked chest an encouraging pat. “Hell yeah I’m good, how about you?”

“If I told you I could cum just from watching you, would you believe me?” You roll your eyes and snort. “We’ll find out later, loverboy. Get up here.”

He scrambles to get on top of you, but then stops. “Wait, wait,” He reaches behind your head and grabs a pillow. “Lift your hips up for me.” Your eyes go wide, because who in the fuck taught him that? Though you move a bit slowly through your surprise, he manages to get the soft thing under you, your lower back now elevated.

But all excitement dies out when he realizes there might be no protection, he looks like he could almost cry.

“It’s cool, Spence. I’m on the pill and I… I haven’t had sex with anyone in an embarrassingly long time.” You admit shyly, your eyes casting to the side nervously. “I’m clean too. I don’t really remember the last time I’ve had sex either.” 

You guys make eye contact and erupt into a fit of giggles, “To relearning the art of sexual intercourse then.” Spencer scrunches his nose up at your wording, but you don’t give him any time to retort because you’ve already placed two hands on his face, tugging his head down to kiss your smile-split lips.

He takes the time to kiss you for a moment before reaching down to line his dick up to your entrance. You both shiver at the sensation. You guys disconnect your lips to watch him enter you, your foreheads pressed together and breaths mingled in anticipation.

You moaned in unison when he slowly but surely seethed himself in you fully, and your body tensed at the long awaited intrusion. “Gimme a sec.” You gulped. “Yeah, yeah, of course.” He panted.

You allowed yourself a moment to relax, brushing your fingers through his curls as a way to comfort Spencer as well. After taking a few more seconds to enjoy the raw, intimate moment between the two of you, you said, “Okay. Okay, I’m good.” 

Spencer licked his lips and rolled his hips tentatively, and your breath hitched. A string of whimpers were soon to follow with every drag of his cock against your sensitive inner walls, the leftovers of your previous orgasm leaving your body feeling electric.

Your mouth drops open into an ‘o’ shape when his tip brushes your g-spot.

“Right - right there Spence…good boy - fuck - good fucking boy.” 

The term of endearment was an accidental slip of the tongue, but it had frayed some nerve in his body, because the groan that left him was guttural and hungry.

“Say -” He huffs. “Say it again, please.” The pace of his thrusts speed up as he begs, and your nails drag down his back. “You’re my good boy, Spencie.” His eyes flutter shut at the praise and he doesn’t bother to be gentle anymore.

“Mphm! More - I need more.”

“Okay, okay.” He rushed to balance on his elbow so that his other arm could slip between the two of your bodies to rub at your clit. Your back arched, and Spencer all but throbbed inside of you, his balls tightening and threatening to cum right then and there; but ever the gentleman, he waited, his stomach sucked in tightly and his body jolting quivering.

“I - I’m gonna cum.” 

It didn’t take much to pull you into a kiss. It was sloppy, and messy, and lewd and all of those other wonderful synonyms. Spit dribbled down your chins and with one last hard thrust that almost sent you up the bed, you gripped onto the older man for dear life.

Everything went white as you came; your hearing, your vision, every single cognitive thought you had pretty much flew out the window.

It was Spencer gently wiping the sweat off of your brow that brought you back down to reality, your lungs finally opening up and expanding for that much needed air.

“Hey,” He cooed. “There you are.”

“Hi,” You sighed with a ditzy smile on your face.

There was a moment of silence before you said, “How about we save the oral for breakfast?” Spencer laughed, but nonetheless nodded in agreement. “That sounds perfect.”

“So, what’s for dessert then?” He couldn’t help but ask. “Hm…” You pondered for a moment. 

“How about ice cream?”

“I like ice cream.” But then he added, “But I like you more.”

“Ugh, you’re the worst.” You groaned, covering your eyes, but your grin gave you away. “I like you too, I guess.”

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna

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[pucksandpower]

Hi hi. Hope your taking care of yourself. I just want to ask on the grid kids series can i request the drivers being mistaken as grid baby's parents... like shes out with them where people dont know who they are and they get mistaken for being her parents. (you can choose any two drivers if u wanna write it)

Grid Kids: Mistaken Identities

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: the grid kids learn that sometimes seeing two men with a baby can make people draw the wrong conclusions

Series Masterlist

Max and Charles: Disney Princes

“Why do I feel like we’ve bitten off more than we can chew?” Charles groans, adjusting the collar of his prince costume as they step into the magical world of Tokyo Disneyland.

Max smirks, tugging at his own princely garb. “Because you were easily swayed by a toddler. But why did I let the two of you drag me into this too?”

Your daughter skips ahead, twirling in her Cinderella dress, utterly delighted. “Princess!” She chirps, pointing to herself, and then at them, “Princes!”

Charles laughs, ruffling her hair. “Yes, yes, but remember, you owe me big time.”

Suddenly, a small horde of children swarm around Charles, their eyes wide with awe. “Prince Charming!” One of them squeals, reaching out to touch the hem of his outfit.

Max can’t help but chuckle. “Look at you, a hit with the kiddos already.”

Charles, looking mildly panicked but trying to keep his composure, kneels down, offering his best princely smile. “Hello, little ones. Are you enjoying your day at the castle?”

While Charles is surrounded, a couple approaches Max, eyes flickering between him, Charles, and your daughter. “You three make such a cute family! How long have you and your husband been together?”

Max chokes on his spit. “Oh, no, we’re not — I mean, he’s not — we’re her brothers, not fathers. And we’re definitely not together.”

The woman’s cheeks turn a bright shade of red. “Oh! I’m so sorry. My mistake.”

Charles, now free from the throng of kids, joins in, “It’s alright. Happens a lot more than you would think.” He winks at your daughter, “This princess has a way of wrapping everyone around her finger so I can see the confusion.”

Max and Charles immerse themselves in the Disneyland experience, fully embracing their roles as makeshift royalty. They take pictures, go on rides, and even join your daughter for a tea party at Cinderella’s Royal Table.

While leaving, a staff member waves, “Goodbye, Prince Charming!”

Charles raises an eyebrow, “Which one?”

Max smirks, “Clearly, they meant me.”

Your daughter grins cheekily. “Both Princes. My Princes.”

Mick and Lance: Horsing Around

“Why is she covered in hay?” Lance looks down at your giggling daughter who has a spot of dirt on her nose and straw in her hair.

Mick picks her up, attempting to brush it off without much success. “Because someone wanted to roll around with the bunnies.”

She claps her hands together. “Bunny soft! And pony! I want pony!”

A farmer passing by overhears their conversation, a knowing smile on his face. “That's how it starts, you know?” He nods towards Mick and Lance, “My daughter wanted just one pony and now look around you — turned into this whole farm.” He chuckles, looking at your daughter with fondness, “Seems history is repeating with your little one. She’s clearly got her daddies wrapped around her finger already.”

Mick chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, “Oh, we’re not her dads. We’re her brothers. Just trying to spoil her a bit while we can.”

The farmer looks slightly surprised but grins, “Ah, my bad! You looked so domestic and I assumed. But a word of advice from someone who’s been through it … those little eyes? They’ll have a whole farm following you home if you’re not careful."

Lance nods in agreement, “She gets her charm from our mom.”

Your daughter, however, is undeterred. “Pony! Please, please, pony!”

Lance tries to be stern, “I don’t think Mom and Dad will let us get a pony.”

But her big eyes and pout should be illegal.

They cave instantly. “Okay, okay! We’ll see what we can do,” Mick promises.

As they head home, Mick turns to Lance, “You realize we can’t actually get her a pony, right?”

But Lance just smirks. “Watch me.”

***

Later that evening, you’re sipping tea when a rather unexpected sound catches your attention.

Neighhh.

You rush to the window, eyes widening at the sight in front of you.

Lance meets your eyes sheepishly, “So ... we might’ve made a tiny impulsive decision ...”

Mick is holding a bedazzled harness belonging to the animal in question, “Tiny? It’s not exactly a chihuahua.”

Your daughter rushes to you, grinning from ear to ear. “Look, Mommy! Pony!”

You sigh deeply, “I leave you two in charge for a few hours and apparently we now own a pony?”

Mick shrugs, “It seemed like a good idea at the time?”

Lance adds, “We just couldn’t say no to her!”

You laugh, pulling them both into a hug with your daughter sandwiched between. “You boys are impossible. When did you become such softies?”

“Just following in your footsteps,” Mick smirks. “You know, spoiling the ones we love."

Lance nods, “Guess it runs in the family.”

Lando and George: Busy Bees

“Is she ready?” Lando asks while leaning over to check his face paint in the mirror.

George adjusts his fake antennae headband. “I still can’t believe you convinced me to wear this.”

Your daughter runs in from behind them, flapping her tiny bee wings with a big smile on her face. “Bzzz! Bzzz!”

Lando laughs, “Look at you, the cutest little bee in the hive!”

He then whispers to George, “At least we match.”

George groans, “Yeah but did we really have to be flowers? It’s bad enough that she’s got me trick-or-treating for the first time in twenty years.”

As they set out, the trio attracts many admiring glances, especially when your daughter toddles up to houses, holding out her little bucket and adorably attempting a “Trick or treat!”

At one house, an older lady opens the door, gasping with delight. “Oh my! What a beautiful little family! You and your husband have done such a wonderful job. Your daughter’s costume is simply adorable!”

George’s cheeks flush under his floral face paint, “Oh, uh, we’re not a couple. We’re her brothers!”

Lando waves his hands, “Yeah! No couple here, just brothers. He’s too annoying to date anyway.”

The lady looks slightly taken aback but quickly recovers. “Oh, my apologies! It’s just so rare to see two young dads out and about. Anyways, here you go, little bumblebee.” She drops a handful of candy into your daughter’s bucket.

The night continues with more misidentifications, George and Lando taking it in stride but also bickering about who gives off more of a dad vibe.

George pokes Lando, “I told you, dressing as matching flowers makes it look like we’re together.”

Lando rolls his eyes, “You’re just embarrassed because Mrs. Thompson from three houses down thought we were a couple.”

George grins, “Well, maybe if someone didn’t m insist on holding my hand to guide me ...”

Lando splutters, “That was to stop you from tripping over a pumpkin in the dark! Besides, look, she’s having the time of her life.”

Your daughter just continues her “bzzing,” happily collecting candies and compliments.

When they return home, a mountain of treats in tow, your daughter shows off her loot with pride.

Sebastian greets them at the door, laughing as he sees their costumes. “Looking good there!”

George mumbles, “At least we’re on brand.”

Lando grins, “Exactly! Team Bee for the win!”

Your daughter, energy not even slightly dimmed, runs up and hugs Sebastian, “Daddy! Bzzz!”

Sebastian chuckles, “My little bee. Did you have fun with your brothers?”

She nods vigorously, “Bzzz!”

You shake your head in amusement. “Alright, my buzzing bee, time for bed. And you two,” you point at George and Lando, “thanks for being such good sports. Even if you did look ridiculous.”

George and Lando are already on their way to raid your vanity for makeup wipes. “Anything for our little bee,” Lando says with a wink.

The Parents and the “Parents”

Charles runs a hand through his hair, “So, Y/N, Seb ... you won’t believe how many times Max and I have been mistaken for a couple when we’re out and about.”

“Yeah,” Max chimes in, “apparently we give off strong young dads in love vibes.”

Lance sighs dramatically, “Don’t even get me started! Mick and I took her to the park a few days ago and this lady actually asked how long we’ve been married and when we adopted her.”

Mick nods, “She even recommended a couples’ yoga class for us. Said it helped her and her wife reconnect for personal time during parenthood.”

Lando, trying to stifle a giggle, pipes up, “George and I were given a book called The Ultimate Guide for Gay Dads by our new neighbor. She said it really helped her son and his husband.”

George gestures wildly, “We even got invited to the local dads’ weekly barbecue. I think we’re honorary members now.”

You burst out laughing, “Oh my god, I can’t breathe! This is priceless.”

Sebastian chuckles, “I think it’s sweet that our daughter has so many loving dads. We’re setting a new norm here.”

Max grins, “I always knew I had a paternal side.”

Charles nudges him, “More like you just can’t bring yourself to say no to her.”

Lance admits, “That’s true. Is this a good time to apologize for the pony in your backyard again?”

Everyone turns to look at Mick, who shrugs, “She has the best puppy eyes, okay?”

“It’s a gift really,” George agrees. “I tried to do the same face to Lando to get the last slice of pizza but all he did was laugh at me.”

Lando retorts, “That’s because your puppy eyes looked more like you were constipated.”

Suddenly, the laughter is interrupted by a small voice. Your daughter toddles into the room, holding a toy race car in one hand and a doll in the other. “Why do you all have funny faces?” She asks, her innocent eyes widening.

Sebastian picks her up and sits her on his knee, “Well, little racer, we were just talking about how sometimes people think that your brothers are your dads.”

She scrunches her face in confusion, “But that’s silly! They’re still your babies too. How can they be dads?”

You laugh, “You’re absolutely right, sweetheart. They definitely still act like children sometimes.”

The six indignant whines of “we do not” you get in return don’t really do much to help their case.

But you love your kids anyway. All seven of them.

#f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #sebastian vettel x reader #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lance stroll x reader #george russell x reader #lando norris x reader #mick schumacher x reader #f1 fluff #f1 blurb #f1 one shot #f1 drabble #f1 fandom #f1blr #sebastian vettel imagine #max verstappen imagine #charles leclerc imagine #lance stroll imagine #george russell imagine #lando norris imagine #mick schumacher imagine #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader

[greatooglymooglyyy]

My Tears Ricochet (Matthew Sturniolo)

contains: verbal argument, cheating allegations, crying, breakup, no happy ending, 1.5k words

a/n: honestly i'm sorry for this one. ouch. i said it alr but im not doing a part 2 for this one b/c i don't wanna lmao, the song is how writing this made me feel lol, requested by @nicksmainbitch and i took parts of an anon request

“We need to talk.”

I look down and study the message for maybe the hundredth time since Matt sent it an hour ago. Taking a deep steading breath, I kill my car engine and finally open the door. I’ve been sitting in his driveway for ten minutes now and it’s getting pathetic but I couldn’t help it. There’s nothing I hate more than a cryptic message, especially from Matt.

I use my key to let myself in the house, kicking off my shoes at the entrance, and pause when I notice how quiet it seems. Either Nick and Chris aren’t here or something is very wrong but my gut is leaning towards both. I pull out my phone to check their location but my heart drops when I realize all three of them aren’t showing up on Find My Friends.

Okay. It’s fine. Probably just a glitch. It has to be. I take the stairs two at a time and rush into Matt’s room, finding him with his head down at his desk.

“Matt?” I say quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder that he immediately jerks away from like I’ve burned him.

He lifts his head, spinning the chair around my way, and the look he gives me is like a stab to the heart. Because in all the years I’ve known Matt, in all the years I’ve loved him, he’s never looked at me like he’s looking at me now. Like he can see right through me. Like I’m no one at all to him.

“How long?” He asks calmly, his voice like a brewing storm. “Just tell me that. How long have I been a fucking idiot for?”

I stare back at him silently for a minute, caught between confusion and indignation. “What are you talking about?”

He closes his eyes and shakes his head before he tilts it up to the ceiling. “Listen. Tell me the truth. If you tell me the truth, I can try…” He stops and clears his throat like the words have jammed there. “I love you enough to try to get over it. But, if you lie-”

“What the fuck are you accusing me of, Matthew?” I snap, cutting him off. I feel the anger rising in my chest and blink away the hot tears that are beginning to gather. If Matt and I had one thing going for us, it was trust. We’ve never touched each other’s phones, never questioned stories. We just believed in our bond. But I can feel that trust starting to crumble around us and I don’t know what to do.

Matt grabs his phone from the desk and thrusts it into my hands. “Here. Your side piece must have gotten tired of waiting.”

I look down and skim the drama page he has pulled up, my jaw going slack. Someone has been sending in “proof” that I’ve been cheating on him. There are text messages with time stamps and they’ve even included pictures of me sleeping.

I look back at Matt and find him watching my reaction with his eyes low. “These are obviously fake-” I start but Matt stands up and walks past me to his closet.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought too. Until I saw the pictures. Go ahead and tell me that’s not your tattoo.” He’s breathing heavily now and I can tell he’s trying not to cry. “One more chance. Tell me the truth. Did you fuck him?”

“Matt. Please.” I walk over to him and spin him around to face me, feeling his body tense against my touch. “You know me better than this.”

I step closer and draw him to me, wrapping my arms around his waist, and he lets me. He buries his head in my hair and breaks down. Deep body wracking sobs. So I just hold him, not knowing what to do or say. I can’t prove I didn’t send a message and I have no idea where those pictures came from or how to show him they must be old. So I’m stuck.

When he finally calms down, he pulls away from me and walks back to the desk. He drops down and slouches, defeated. “Oh my god.” His face is contorted with pain and I’m not sure if his expression or words make me sicker. “I thought you were the one.”

I stand there helpless for a minute, tears streaming down my face before I finally speak. “I can’t make you believe me. You gotta do that on your own.”

When he says nothing, I nod, not trusting myself to speak, and gather up my belongings. Before I turn to leave, I yank his house key off my chain and place it on his desk without meeting his eyes. As soon as I put my hand on the doorknob, I want to fall to my knees and cry but I push down the feeling and swing the door open.

I wait for him to say something, anything when I leave. I wait for it all the way down the stairs. I’m still expecting it when I reach my car, and I pause and listen for him to chase after me, to fight.

But he doesn’t so I drive home, drop into my bed and cry. And when he still doesn’t the next day or the next, I force myself to get up and figure out a new normal.

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

It’s unusually cold for Los Angeles the night he comes, two months later. When I hear his voice spill through the callbox, it takes everything I have not to let my knees buckle. I’ve spent every day of the last couple of months trying to avoid hearing it at all costs.

He speaks again, begging to be let in and I buzz him up without thinking. I run to throw on some sweatpants and then stand with my arms crossed, trying to prepare myself to see his face.

It doesn’t work. Matt walks through the door like a wrecking ball and I’m caught in his wake. He stands awkwardly near the door, shifting from foot to foot.

“What are you doing here, Matt?” My voice sounds exhausted even to me. All the work I’ve done putting myself back together and here he comes toppling me over again.

“I just…” He trails off and begins pacing. “It was your ex. That fucking loser. The picture was old and he-”

“I know.”

“-fucking edited those texts. The motherfucker hit me up trying to-” He pauses finally registering what I said. “What do you mean you know?”

“He called me a few days after we broke up trying to get back together and I finally remembered the picture,” I say, not letting myself look away like I’m dying to.

Matt freezes at this, staring at me in disbelief, before he pulls out a chair from the table and flops down. “But… why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“How did you expect me to do that? Go to Apple headquarters and ask them to unblock me? Email Laura?” I seethe.

“You could've come over. You should have! It changes everything-”

“It changed nothing for me. I already knew I didn’t fucking cheat on you.” My voice cracks slightly but I shake my head. If my mom taught me one thing, it’s to never cry over a boy to his face.

Matt says my name so softly I almost don’t hear it and I cut my eyes back to his. “What do you want me to do? I will do whatever you need to fix this.”

I huff out a humorless laugh at how much I wanted those words and how empty they sound now. “You don’t get to do this to me.”

“Tell me you don’t love me and I’ll go.” He says and I believe him. I don’t think he’d even hesitate.

“I can’t.” Matt stands and advances quickly toward me but I stop him with a hand on his chest. “But, it doesn’t matter. I don’t trust you.”

He winces, clenching his jaw. "I thought you fucking cheated on me! I thought you were throwing everything away.”

“So you threw it away first.”

He raises his voice now, anger and conviction mixing in his tone. “No! I thought all of that and I was still going to stay. That’s how much I wanted you. That’s how much I love you.”

“Then that’s the difference between me and you.” I breathe out a shaky breath, stepping closer to him. “I don’t think that’s love at all.”

His breathing stutters as he moves backward, studying my face. “So that’s it?”

I force myself to shrug. “I think it’s been it. Since the day I walked out of your house crying and you let me.”

He nods again slowly, whispering a quiet "I'm sorry", before turning and heading for the exit. But before he leaves, Matt pauses looking over his shoulder. “Do you think we got this right somewhere in the multiverse?”

I smile weakly, blinking back my tears. “God, I hope so.”

He returns my smile with a sad one of his own before he opens the door and steps out of my apartment for the last time.

When the door clicks shut, I hold my breath and count to five until I’m sure he’s far enough away. Then I let go, dropping to my knees and finally letting myself fall apart.

taglist:

@sturniolho @sttzee @tillies33ssss @miloisdone1 @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @mrsmiagreer @asturniolos

@teapartyprincess4two @whicked-hazlatwhore @sukiipjs @accio326 @sturniolosmind @imfromthediningtable @rootbeerworshiper

#sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo oneshot #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo headcanon #matt sturniolo angst #matt sturniolo oneshots #chris sturniolo angst #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo headcanon #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x you #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo angst #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo oneshot #sturniolo x reader #maggie b writes #Spotify

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Five Long Years (Chapter 1)

aemond x niece!reader

A/N: i've been wanting to do age gap aemond with his niece for a while so when someone requested it, i was going to do a smut oneshot but it turned into this so weee new miniseries

WARNINGS: angsty, there will be incest and future smut

WORD COUNT: 1,059 words

next chapter series masterlist

Five years since you saw him last. Two years since the death of his wife, Cassandra Baratheron and he is now finally coming home. He has travelled much, or at least that is what he says in his letters. Aemond Targaryen is a man of few words in everything but his letters to you, his dear niece who has spent the majority of her life doing no less than adoring him. Seeing him has been the thing you have spent the last month looking forward to and the day has finally come as you make your way to the courtyard.

“Ñuha rūs mandianna, look at how you’ve grown.” (my baby niece) 

You hear the voice from behind you, whipping around to meet his eye. Oh, and grown you have, into your name and into your body.

You hold in your squeal of delight as you walk up to him. “I have missed you, Kepus. I didn’t think you had already arrived.” You breathe out as he takes both your hands in his and brings them up to his mouth for a kiss. You feel your cheeks flush.

“I missed you more.” He murmurs, brushing a strand of your hair out of your face. He must have noticed your blush by now.

“Tell me everything. I want to hear all about Pentos and Naarth and Lys.” You take his arm, leading him forward for a walk so you don’t have to look him in the eyes.

He smiles at how flustered you are. “You would have loved it, darling. There was so much to learn, so much history in every city.”

You listen to him with such interest as he goes on about each city, their people, their clothes. He’s pleased about how you want to hear it all. You’ve walked through the gardens twice by the time he had gotten through the bulk of it but even so, you can feel that he hasn’t told you everything.

“Tell me more, Kepus.” You beg him, never wanting to leave his side again.

“Not all things are for your ears, sweetling.”

You pout. “What do you mean?”

“You are still just a little girl in many ways.” He holds your hand, his thumb drawing small circles on your knuckles.

“I will be married soon. I won’t be a little girl after that.” A hint of emotion flashes through his eyes as you speak the words.

“I’m not so sure you’re ready for that.” He murmurs, looking at your soft hands before you yank them from his grasp.

“How should you know what i’m ready for?” He’s surprised by your sharp response. He never would have expected you to use such a tone with him.

“Because I know you.”

“You knew me. We have not seen one another for years.” There’s hurt in your voice, in your eyes.

“I had a wife to attend to… a child.”

Both who are now dead.

“A woman grown would be able to understand that.” He says, patronizing you.

“I do understand that.” There’s such jealousy in your voice. You just want to be seen by him, in a way that is different from a little girl who is only now slightly less little.

“You have flowered, yes and you have gotten so beautiful but your petulance has yet to escape you.” He speaks so tenderly as he lifts your chin to force you to look in his eye, but you find his words cruel.

“I’m not petulant.” You protest, pulling your face from his hand. You hate his gentle touches when he’s being mean.

“A well-mannered girl wouldn’t speak to her uncle the way you do.”

“I am well-mannered, just not a pushover.” You say back to him.

“If that were true, you wouldn’t have looked at a man on his wedding day the way you looked at me.” It stings when he says it. You didn’t even realize he noticed the way you gazed at him when he said his vows, all your longing wrapped up in a single look.

“Will you truly hold me to a look I gave you five years ago?” You want to scoff or say something mean but you hold your tongue instead.

“I was too old for you then.” He sympathizes. You didn’t even realize he knew. Men aren’t unusually so perceptive, especially ones who are barely twenty years old.

“Eight years isn’t so long. Daemon and my mother are sixteen years apart.” You murmur, knowing there’s no point in pretending.

“Her Grace wasn’t twelve when she married him.”

“Lots of girls get married at twelve.” You think of your grandmother who married even younger.

“Yes, lots of girls do get married at twelve… and then they die in childbirth at thirteen.” He states seriously. Aemond has little interest in fucking children, whether they have bled or not. “It was not because I did not like you, mandianna.” He reaches for you again to bring you demeaning comfort that you do not want.

“Stop touching me.”

“I didn’t know it would hurt you so. I had assumed it would pass.” He knows you still yearn for him.

“You think I still desire you? I want a man who will treat me like a woman, not a babe!” You’re angry and humiliated and you lash out, wanting that childhood crush to finally die, because that’s all it could have possibly been, frivolous and childish.

“I apologize. I should not have assumed.” You know he’s saying it just to calm you because a man like him is not so stupid, just arrogant enough to think he could never be wrong.

“I don’t want your purportless apologies.” You say with venom.

He sighs. “Then allow me to give you the gifts I brought for you-”

“You wish to distract me with trinkets?”

He isn’t too sure of what to say. You were much meeker as a girl, easily won over with pretty things and kind words. You’re more confident now… more Targaryen.

“I just do not wish to argue when it’s been so long since I saw you last.”

“And whose fault is that? You’ve had two years to see me… I’m starting to think it’s now too late.”

And with that, you stomp off, leaving Aemond dazed and confused… and slightly impressed. Maybe you aren’t just a little girl anymore.

taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi @ravenclawprincess33

#aemond targaryen #hotd #aemond #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fic #aemond angst

[blackopals-world]

I've Found Home

Fem!Yuu and Twisted Cast

(Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8)

Implied relationship

She moved on. She had to and had every reason to. She had someone who relied on her.

Warnings:hurt-comfort, Angst to heal your soul. Healing those and abandonment issues. Happy ending I promise. Don't read if you are not ready to cry. Did not proof read, wrote this late a night, sick and half asleep. Sorry.

Move on.

Forget.

There was no going back.

You chose this.

You wanted this.

After three years of living in another world Yuu couldn't adjust easily to her old life.

A life that no longer exists. So she began building a new one.

She found a good price on a place near the mountains. Private but not isolated. She had the money after her book deal.

People would never believe her story so she wrote fantasy novels. She felt closer to her friends this way but more lonely all the same. She couldn't share the truth with anyone and could never talk about them as though they were real.

Still, she could write new stories with new characters to forget.

Life had been quiet. Eat, sleep, write, watch TV, read and do it all again. Sometimes getting food deliveries, read fan mail and get a call to two. It was decent life. Something Idia would love.

He's probably taken over STYX by now. I bet he and Ortho are doing great together.

Nevermind, she could probably cook something. Eating instant meals was probably ruining her health. Vil would kill her if he knew.

...

Food can wait. She wasn't that hungry anyways.

The garden! Yes! She had to tend the garden! She had ordered a spring bundle to plant.

The tag said it had some tulips, mums, begonias, and specialty white roses.

Nevermind... forget it. She should take a nap. A lazy day never hurt anyone. Even beasts can afford to sleep.

...

...

...

Yuu decided to leave. She couldn't take this anymore. If she got one more reminder she'd collapse. Their faces were ingrained in her mind and guilt burned under her skin.

Life was funny you know. You don't know what come next.

Yuu certainly didn't.

She hiked up the mountain trying to forget every time Jade would drag her to go foraging with him. Every late-night walk she had with Malleus. Every magic carpet ride with Kalim.

It wasn't fair! Why did she have to go through this? She wanted to see them again. What did she do to deserve this?

She was good! She was kind! She just wanted to go home! Is that so wrong? She worked hard! She made a name for herself! She should have the life she wanted and be able to enjoy that life.

But she missed them...

Unknowingly Yuu had dropped to her knees and crying. Only the forest could hear her and perhaps it took pity on her.

(Warning: If you are sensitive to child abuse or dead animals please don't read on.)

When her tears were gone and her cries faded there was a response.

A different cry. High pitched and gurgling. The kind that every woman knew in an odd instinctual way. The kind that sets off every alarm in your head and makes every hair stand on end. A baby.

She ran towards it praying to God that this wasn't a mountain lion. It wasn't though.

She found a small shack off the path. It was surrounded by trash. Must have been occupied by squatters. Said squatters seemed to have vacated at least a few days ago.

Yuu muscled open the makeshift door. The crying had turned into unfamiliar cracking breathless howls. Their voice must have given out a while ago after who knows how long. Hours, days...any longer would mean death.

Yuu searched and found a bunker of sorts under the floorboards.

She found a soggy bare mattress, a few scattered crayons, a ball and-oh God, that smell. It was a rotting cat. Poor thing must have been here for weeks. There was an empty cat food bowl nearby. Little drawings littered the floor. Ones of a smiling child with a smiling cat.

The whimpering cries continued and drew Yuu forward. She found them curled up in a corner. A rope was tied around their leg. It was a child. They were wrapped in soiled clothes, had matted hair, and emaciated.

Yuu felt her heart break again. This poor baby. Who could do this.

He looked at her with fear and hope. He wanted-no needed to be saved. He was probably no older than 3. He had no understanding of what was happening to him. His tears had marked his face as the only place was covered in a layer of dirt.

"Hey, is okay I'm here to help. I'm going to take you away now. Is that okay? We'll get you some food." Yuu tried to keep her voice even to not scare him.

The boy crawled over to the place of the dead cat. And began shaking it.

"Nina!Nina!" He wailed trying to wake her up.

He didn't know she was dead. He didn't even understand what death was.

"I'm sorry Nina can't come with us." Yuu said pulling him gently by the back of his ragged shirt.

But children don't understand these things.

"Nina! No! Nina!" He yelled horsey.

"Shh, it's okay. Don't worry I'll come back for her later. I promise." Yuu hushed.

She could bury her in the garden. He clearly loved her a lot and the poor kitty deserves that much.

After untying the rope Yuu lifted the boy into her arms and carried him home. He made almost no noise as he buried himself in her arms.

Yuu promised herself that she'd never let something like this happen to him again. He would never be abandoned again, he'd never go hungry again, and he'd be loved. She'd love him, she swore it.

"My son." She whispered to no one at all but I affirmed everything she felt.

He needed a name. The case worker didn't have one for him on file. She got to choose one.

For a writer she struggled to find one.

Mal, Elliot, Leo, Cecil, Bishop, Ali, Jacob, Carter, Azure, Jess

Only one name stuck

Grimm

"Grimm! It time for bed. Grab a book if you want me to read it to you." Yuu said walking up the stairs.

Grimm scanned his bookshelf for one of his favorites. The titles were: "The Rose Queen", "The King of Beasts", "The Wishing Star", "The sea witch", "The Sand Serpent", "The fairy Gala", "The Little Robot", "Magic Cat", "The beautiful Queen", and "The Underworld and back again"

Grimm had a favorite right now. The newest among the children's book collection Yuu had written. She pulled it off the shelf and ran back to bed.

Yuu could barely keep up these days. Grimm was fast but Yuu had practice.

She pulled the covers over him and read the title as Grimm snuggled up with his favorite stuffed animal. It was another merchandise stuffed animal. It was a big gray cat with a stripped bow and purple crystal around its neck.

Grimm named it Nina and took it everywhere. Along as it comforted him Yuu said nothing.

"The Lonely Dragon: Once upon a time there was a powerful dragon prince who lived in a land far far away." Yuu began.

"But the dragon isn't lonely forever. He meets the lost princess and they become best friends! Oh and the Silver knight comes in stop the dragon here!" Grimm interrupted leaning over his mother.

" Well if you want to tell the story." Yuu sighed.

When Yuu finished Grimm asked her something.

"So the dragon isn't lonely anymore?" He looked at her with wide eyes.

"No, he has many friends and rules over a nice kingdom," Yuu said in a hushed voice as shifted his pillow to make him lie down.

"What about the lost princess?"

"The lost princess found her way home. She said goodbye to her friends and is where she belongs now."

"But is she lonely? Without all her friends?"

"She used to be but now she has a home. She misses her friends but she's happy."

"I wish I could meet her. I'd be her friend and she'd never be lonely again."

"I know, I'd bet she'd be so happy. Goodnight, baby."Yuu turned off the light as she kissed Grimm's cheek

"Night Mama." Grimm said kissing his mother back.

When Yuu left the room she kept the door open just a bit so Grimm wouldn't be afraid of the dark.

She took a deep breath. Maybe she shouldn't have written the Lost Princess series but it was so well loved these days what could she do?

Still, she could relive those days for just a brief moment and smile.

She made her way to the study to go back to writing her new book when a knock came from downstairs.

Yuu cautiously made her way to the door and pressed an ear to it to listen to who it might be. Forgetting she had a peephole. A familiar voice called her name from the other side.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland yuu #twst yuu #azul ashengrotto #vil schoenheit #leona kingscholar #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #riddle rosehearts #idia shroud #kalim al asim #jamil viper #twisted wonderland grim #vil shoenheit x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #idia shroud x reader #kalim x reader #jamil viper x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #Spotify

[drizztdohurtin]

NSFW Gale Headcanons

can y'all believe it's taken me this long to write content for everyone's favorite wife? i can't.

-MDNI-

NSFW content under the cut

before the orb is stabilized, the impressions on his chest glow a radiant purple as he gets more and more excited

even something as simple as kissing you would trigger the glow, and it'd get brighter with any more intimate

he'd eventually have to stop and fully pull away from you if it got worryingly bright, or if it started to hurt

but once it's stabilized, he's going to make up for all of the hours of intimacy he lost with you

that incredible body hair of his trails all the way down - and it's all maintained so well

Gale's so beautiful, it makes sense that his dick is also beautiful

seeing him naked for the first time in all his glory is earth-shattering

trailing your eyes (and hands) from his chest and down the soft hair covering him that further draws you down his center until you reach his cock, eagerly waiting, aching, for your touch

please take care of him, please give him every mortal experience you can - Gale has never had someone take care of him, he's very used to being the sole giver in a relationship

if you're a natural giver, it would take him a while to get used to being the receiver, laying back and allowing you to love him

the last time someone went down on him, he was so young that all he can remember is how rushed and not very satisfying it was

and of course, M*stra never put any time into acts that were solely for his pleasure

The first time you do it would be the first time he's ever had a partner/romantic interest do something from a place of love, only for his pleasure

make love to him with your mouth!!!

if you want him to cum in your mouth he'd be nervous about it at first, maybe his previous partners found the prospect of that to be gross

he's already in love with you, but after the first time you give him oral, he'd be utterly enraptured by you

honestly, I could write a whole separate post dedicated to just going down on him because it would be a religious experience

everything with Gale is making love

everything with Gale is intimate

even when the sex is hot, heavy, fast, and passionate, he's still making love to you

He wants to bond with you

Gale wants to go down on you so bad please let him go down on you

Once he tastes you for the first time, giving you oral becomes one of his most favorite things to do - your taste is irresistible to him

he also loves making eye contact with you from between your legs

(afab!reader) he would want to make you cum on his tongue at least once before he even thinks about entering you

Gale is extremely versatile, being able to take on many roles in the bedroom and he's incredible at all of them

while I do see him having some preferences, he will do anything

he can be dominant or submissive, he can be a top or a bottom, literally whatever you want or whatever feels right in the moment

if he submits to you one night, he very well could dom you the very next night if you allow it

however, he's a big fan of that area between dominant and submissive where neither of you are particularly one way or the other

maybe the sex is so hot and heavy that it's almost like you both are dominant and submissive at the same time

or maybe the sex is so slow and intimate that neither of you take on a role of any kind

in terms of the preferences I mentioned, they aren't hard opinions so think of it as 'if he got to choose, most nights he would choose this'

He'd prefer to top, and he'd prefer to be dominant

like I said earlier, he is just so used to giving - and, with you, all he wants to do is give and please

With you, he will always ensure your pleasure before his

but he loves the moments of being so wrapped up in you that both of you are equally drowning in ecstasy

Gale loves to be close to you during sex, and he loves to feel your hands on him - especially in his hair

run your fingers through his hair, hold onto a bunch of it in your fist, pull on it a little bit, play with it, tuck strands of it behind his ears - literally whatever you want

He needs to feel you pressed impossibly close against him as he grasps at large areas of skin on your body, or rubs delicate patterns into the skin of your hips and waist

Gale's a big fan of praise and words of affirmation, he'd tell you how much he loves you and how good you make him feel, he'd tell you how perfect you are and he never wants the moment to end

If you did the same for him, he wouldn't realize how much he wanted to hear it until it happened - he'd absolutely melt

he's not one to swear much during sex, but he's known to drop the occasional "by the Gods."

he uses loving names for you, things like "my love" and "darling"

but if he knew that hearing him say your name does things to you, he'd use that to his advantage

To him, witnessing your orgasm is like witnessing the universe form - he's in awe

he's thrust even deeper in love when he remembers it was him that did brought you to your orgasm

he might do one of two things: lean away and watch you, fully entranced, especially if you're likely to give him eye contact

or, lean in even closer to you, kissing the side of your face or your neck in encouragement, holding you tight against him as each wave of your orgasms pulses through you

either way, he'd moan with you

(amab!reader) if he was bottoming for you, he'd more likely do the second one due to the way it feels when you cum inside of him - he probably wouldn't be able to keep his eyes open with how good it felt

Your orgasm would bring him so much pleasure, often sending him into his own shortly after

At the beginning of your relationship, his instinct would be to pull out before he came, though he'd find the act of cumming inside of you to be incredibly intimate and he'd be lying to himself if he said he didn't want to do it

every time he orgasms he buries his face in your neck, his movements slowing significantly

He moans so beautifully and rocks his hips in tandem with each shot of his load that releases from him

as he comes down from his climax, his thighs might tremble and his breath will hitch as he lets out higher pitch, almost pleading moans

if he's inside of you, he'd like to stay that way for a minute or two as his vision returns to him, checking on you, asking you how you feel, kissing your lips and cheeks

After sex, he'd love to get cleaned up with you and return back to bed, holding you close until you fall asleep (if it's nighttime)

if it's daytime, he'd still love to hold you afterward, opting to talk to you or read to you instead

| Masterlist | WIP List |

#OKAYYYYYY this is over 1100 words and I still could've kept going I'm gonna be honest #my writing #my hcs #wife #bg3 #smut #gale dekarios #headcanons #x reader #baldurs gate 3 #brainrot #x tav #baldur's gate 3

[rainbowhao]

fratboy beomgyu

fratboy beomgyu who is all too curious about the mysterious person nextdoor and makes it his mission to become your friend

fratboy beomgyu who happily meets you in the elevator one afternoon and can't help but strike up a conversation as if you're already acquainted

"do you come here often?"

"i live here?"

fratboy beomgyu who doesn't even notice the odd looks you're giving him on the ride up, just keeps chirping away til you get to the third floor

fratboy beomgyu who can't take a hint when you practically slam the door in his face before he can say goodbye—who just shrugs and digs around in his pocket for the dorm key

fratboy beomgyu who loves to say good morning or ask about your day whenever he gets the chance, even if he's tired or running late

"oh. hello," he greets. his long hair is disheveled as he steps out into the hallway wearing crinkled sweats and a sweatshirt. "are you headed to class too?"

you nod. it appears he's overslept though doesn't appear to be in any rush.

"it's cold out there. don't you have a coat?" he frowns. "here. have mine."

fratboy beomgyu who shoves his jacket into your arms before you can decline and runs away with manic laughter spilling out his lips

fratboy beomgyu who goes to parties just to goof off with his friends or get high and play records on his portable turntable

fratboy beomgyu who comes home late one night and can't get the door unlocked so he tiredly knocks thinking someone will answer and let him in

fratboy beomgyu who stares at you with wide eyes and smeared eyeshadow when you poke your head out to see what the noise is and make direct eye contact

fratboy beomgyu who happily allows you to open the door for him and somehow convinces you to help him inside because he can't walk

fratboy beomgyu who nearly blacks out and suddenly finds himself on the bed and head resting on your lap while you look down at him

"please get off me."

"but you look so pretty like this."

fratboy beomgyu who thinks you got the wrong idea about him and tell you so, hoping you won't misunderstand the type of person he is

"i'm also in a small music club. i play the guitar....oh you've heard me? heh. sorry."

fratboy beomgyu who is admittingly a little embarrassed to be acting so desperate for your attention and wonders whether you even like him at all but still doesn't give up

fratboy beomgyu who bakes you sugar cookies for valentine's day and leaves them at your doorstep with a note and drawing of a teddy bear

fratboy beomgyu who nervously paces around his dorm room while he waits for you to get back from class in approximately 10 minutes

fratboy beomgyu who is startled by the sound of knocking and met with your face and that unreadable expression that drives him crazy

"if you don't like it or something i can—"

"i like them a lot."

fratboy beomgyu who is ecstatic when you sit on the floor together and try his cookies (which are obviously delicious) while he plays you his favorite albums

fratboy beomgyu who has finally broken through your cold exterior and become your friend—who really won't leave you alone now that he knows you're at least a little fond of him

fratboy beomgyu who coerces you into sleepovers and goes as far as setting up a cot next to your bed (once you finally let him inside your dorm room, that is) so that you can talk about random shit for hours

fratboy beomgyu who is secretly over the moon when you beg him to go to sleep and even crawl down onto the floor to just cover his mouth

fratboy beomgyu whose heart beats quickly when he realizes how close you are and just how intimate a dark night can be—who cups your hand with his own and slowly pulls your fingers away from his mouth

"please don't go."

you're silent for a while.

"can you stay down here? i'll be good."

fratboy beomgyu who lifts the blankets and allows you to hesitantly settle in beside him—who doesn't dare make another sound in fear of scaring you off

fratboy beomgyu who is coaxed to sleep by your body's warmth, shoulders touching and limbs eventually entangling til your forms meld into one

#beomgyu #tomorrow x together #txt #choi beomgyu #txt x reader #txt imagines #txt scenarios #beomgyu x reader #txt fanfic #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu imagines #txt fics #kpop imagines #txt drabbles #beomgyu fic #beomgyu scenarios

[asmosmainhoe]

MC draws the brothers

im kinda shy to ask this but, can u make artist!mc drawing brothers and others and them reacting to it?(*´-`)

- @maiitski

Note: This was incredibly fun to write! I also only did the brothers, because I don't write for more than 7 characters in one post

Gender: neutral

Warnings: heavy language

Lucifer

You often draw him when he's working, because then he's absolutely still for hours

At first he doesn't exactly know what you're doing over there with your notebook. The first guess is some kind of study and you're simply looking for some peace and quiet to focus

Once he's done with the mountain of paperwork he walks over to you and glances over your shoulder

Oh wow. The portrait you drew of him looks fantastic and he nods proudly until he notices some special details

"Why are the spots under my eyes so dark?"

"Well, you've been working for hours now."

"I see..my hair looks so disheveled as well."

"You just really need some rest."

A portrait falls out of your notebook when you leave the room and he quickly hides it in one of his drawers. There is no way he won't treasure your hard work

Mammon

To say that it's difficult to draw a picture of the greedy demon is a complete understatement since he's in constant movements

The only time you catch him truly sitting still is when he's counting money after a long day of casino activities

"Look at what I won, MC! Hey, you're not even listenin'!"

"Sorry, Mammon. I didn't notice that you talked to me."

"What are ya doin' anyways, huh?"

His voice gets caught in his throat and he starts coughing violently. Partly to hide his embarrassment

"It l-looks pretty cool."

Translation: THIS IS THE MOST AMAZING THING HE HAS EVER SEEN

"I can get rid of it if you want me to."

"Are ya mad?! You can't just destroy a picture of the great Mammon! Give that to me."

Leviathan

By now it's routine for you to chill in his room to watch him play in the evening, but sometimes it does get a bit boring. Especially when he's playing a game that isn't your cup of tea

So you take out your notebook and start drawing whatever comes to your mind. This time it happens to be the envious third born

But you can't satisfy yourself with a normal portrait, no. You decide to draw him as if he's a character from the game he's currently obsessing over and proudly show him your work once you're done

You can watch Levi's soul leave his body in real time once he realizes that out of all the cool things in his room you drew him

"I-I can't believe you drew me! Me! It looks so good too! MC, I've got to have this! Please!"

I can see him roll around the room crying and screaming if you refuse to hand over the drawing

Satan

Once he loses himself in a book he turns into a freaking statue

Of course he has seen your drawings before and he absolutely adores them. There are several cat pictures from you hanging on his walls

But seeing you put his own features onto paper is a whole other thing

You manage to make him blush a little and chuckle in embarrassment as he inspects your work

"You're extremely talented. It almost looks real."

As Satan inspects your portrait an idea comes to his mind and a mischievous grin forms on his lips

"Do you perhaps take requests? I'd love for you to draw me tower over Lucifer. Preferably him cowering on the ground while I step on him."

"You know exactly that he will kill me if I do that."

"Oh, well. It was worth a shot."

Asmodeus

DRAW HIM LIKE ONE OF YOUR FRENCH DEMONS

Please, the moment he notices that you're drawing him he's going to strike poses left and right

"Let me fix the light real quick! Oh, I how do I look? Is my hair sitting correctly? Oh, why am I even asking? Of course it does!"

It's not the first time that someone either draws him or takes a picture of him, but with you it's special

Now you have to show him your entire notebook! He has to know if there are more portraits of him!

And there are. Most of them are him in an absolutely relaxed position and often times when he's not dolled up at all

"Why didn't you tell me? I would have gotten ready!"

"You looked the most beautiful in these moments. I didn't wanna disturb them- are you crying?"

"No! OF COURSE I AM!"

Beelzebub

Please, to him you're the most talented artist he has ever seen! And he doesn't hold back with that thought!

One time you drew food just for fun and he ate the entire paper, because it looked way too good. You have to admit that that's quite the high compliment

And Beel has such beautiful and drawable features so how couldn't you put that on a piece of paper?

"Can I see what you're doing?"

The hungry demon gets to lost in it that he's just silent for a very long time. It gets to a point where you worried that he might not like it

"I can throw it away if you want to."

"No, why? I love it."

He never really realized how good he looks until now

"Can I keep it?"

Belphegor

Our sleeping beauty over here is perfect to draw considering he sleeps so still that one might think he actually died

One time you don't even notice that he woke up from his nap and is wondering what you're so focused on

It's only when he leans over to get a peak inside your notebook. You quickly hide the drawings of him, but it's too late for that now. The damage is done and you brace yourself for his teasing

"Wow, you must really like me."

"Shut up."

"This is some Levi-level simping."

"I SAID SHUT UP!"

You guys wrestle over the notebook for a little while until he grows tired of it and lays down again with a yawn

"Fine. Keep your secrets. Your notebook is probably full with my face anyways."

"No."

"Next thing I will find out is that you have a shrine dedicated to me."

"You're such an ass."

"But a pretty one."

---

Masterlist

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me x reader #obey me brothers #obey me luci #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me luci x reader #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan x reader #obey me levi x reader #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me satan x reader #obey me asmodeus x reader #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo x reader #obey me beelzebub x reader #obey me beel x reader #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphie x reader #obey me belphegor x reader #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

(Dark! LC) Loving You Hurts

Pairing: Dark Luke Castellan x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female reader

SUMMARY: When Luke's jealousy gets out of hand.

WARNINGS: Toxic Relationship. 

--

“We’re having a party tonight. You should come.” the blonde-haired boy walked with you as you collected your breakfast in a tray. 

“I don’t know, Sam, maybe.” you keep your answer short, opting not to indulge into the conversation.

Luke’s stare feels obvious despite the physical distance between you, your boyfriend already seated at a table.

“C’mon, you never really come by anymore, not ever since you got with Luke. I know Clarisse will be thrilled to see you again.” he looked at you with hopeful eyes and you felt bad, knowing you’re letting all of your friends down - hanging out with them less and less. 

“Luke can come too. And Chris, if he wants to.” 

You hesitated for a moment before nodding your head. You seriously doubted Luke would want to go. Sam seemed satisfied enough and after giving you the time and place, he left.  

Stress got trapped in your throat when you walked to the table, taking a seat.

“Who was that guy?” Luke asked you nonchalantly, his eyes following Sam as he walked away. 

“Luke, you know him. He’s my friend.”

“That’s not what I asked.” 

You sighed, fully aware of the interrogation he’s about to put you through. “Ares’ kid. One of Clarisse’s brothers.” 

“What did he want?” 

“Luke…”

“What? I’m just asking what he wanted.” he replies back, his eyes snapping at you with annoyance. “Now I can’t even ask what a strange guy had to say to my girlfriend?”

You stabbed the food in your plate, feeling your eyes becoming watery. 

“He invited us to a party tonight.” 

The scoff you received from Luke was loud enough to draw a few heads in your direction and you quickly captured a few slices of bacon, stuffing them in your mouth. 

“Us? The way he was talking, it seems like he wanted to invite you. Since you’re his friend, right?” his voice had an edge to it, as if daring you to contradict but you stubbornly kept your attention to your food.

If you looked at him - at the angry frown he most certainly had on - you’d end up crying in front of everyone. 

“Luke, please…” you supplicated, “Just let it go, please. I’m not going anyways, okay?”

He looked at you for a long moment, his brown eyes piercing through your soul as he took notice of the tears that were shining in your eyes. His gaze softened, hand reaching for yours.

“Okay.” he said, bringing your hand to his lips, kissing the back of it. “I’m sorry.”

You should’ve known that Luke’s jealous streak would never be able to just let something go. 

Any hopes of forgetting the situation were shattered when in the next day a fight broke loose at the camp. And of course, Luke was at the epicenter. 

You weren’t around but your siblings told how hard Luke punched Sam, which resulted in a broken nose and bloody mess. 

And of course that defending your friend resulted in another argument between you and Luke. 

“Luke, you’re overreacting.” you pleaded, wanting nothing more than tug on your hair with the despair you were feeling. 

“No, you’re being naive. You’re not seeing it the way I see it.”

“I just- I don’t get why you had to do this, Luke!”

“He did this to himself.” he retorted, his hand clenching with anger. “He talked about you, you know? How you deserve someone better.”

Your throat went dry as you gulped. Luke took a step towards you, murderous anger plastered in his face. 

“You say he’s just a friend, but I know he wants more than that.” he spited the words, inching closer to you. “He wants to take my place. To be the one you love. But I’m not gonna let that happen, okay?” 

His words dimmed into a hushed whisper as he pressed his forehead against yours, his ragged breaths contrasting with your lack of breathing as you held your breath.

“Luke…” 

“I won’t let you go. We’re meant to be together, I know it.” he pressed a light kiss on your hairline, ignoring the single tear that escaped your eye.

“And if I have to kill whoever gets in our way, then so be it.”

#@mrsdarkandyandere7 #yandere x reader #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan imagine #dark luke castellan #dark luke castellan x reader #yandere luke castellan #yandere luke castellan x reader