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m0uchie · 2 months

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Hi hi!! I'm pretty sure this is my first time requesting so I am a bit scared afjrjwj...

Anyways could you do Scara x reader (could be gn,whatever makes you comfortable!) where Scara is a complete nerd and is just explaining to reader about his nerdy interests/hobbies while reader just thinks about devouring and worshipping him 🤭

You could ignore/delete if you want or if it doesn't fit with your rules!!(I did read them but just in case) have a great day/night and take care of yourself!!❤️

𐙚 secret obsession

⟡ you discover what Scaramouche's face (a boy in your class) really looks like and now you can't stop thinking about him

— pairing : nerd!scaramouche x gn!reader

— warnings : NSFW; reader is obsessed? A bit too much, lmao; yandere reader; penetrative sex (in reader's imagination); oral (m!receiving)

— a/n : HIII! YOU LOOK SO SWEET :( Don't be scared to send smth, I loved your request 🫶 I hope I did your first request well and ty for reading the rules😭😭

part 2

You know what they say about not approaching the shy kid who sits alone at break because they usually mean trouble? You did completely the opposite of that.

Scaramouche should've been the smartest boy in your class. However, his presence went unnoticed by the other students, even though he had a charming beauty that he hid behind his hat and corrective glasses. These same glasses that you picked up from the floor when he collided with you while blindly speeding up his steps in the hallway with a stack of notebooks in hand to deliver to the professor.

Your mouth opens in shock at finally seeing him without that giant hat he wore all the time, lying on the floor along with his lenses and notebooks. Soft skin, round and bright eyes of a vibrant color like a doll that you couldn't stop staring at.

"Y-you're in the way." he mutters, lifting his finger to adjust the glasses that hung on the tip of his nose with his other arm holding the notebooks tightly against his chest, and slightly panicking when he notices the lack of presence of the frame.

"You're welcome." you level up the glasses to his face, straightening the messy strands of hair on his head with your fingers and a smirk on your face. He blushes and forms a pout with his mouth, mumbling something you couldn't hear and taking his glasses back from your hand, without even looking back before running away.

As the days passed, the more lost your mind seemed to become after your sudden encounter with Scaramouche. You'd taken the hat he had forgotten home, as he had run away from you out of the blue that day and left it with you. Until now he didn't seem to notice the lack of the accessory, unlike your mind which couldn't erase the meeting between the two of you from your memory.

Your thoughts were always about him and what happened that day, how silly he looked wearing glasses, but still how satisfying it was to know that you were the only one who was aware of his ethereal beauty. Your concentration was unconsciously broken the moment your eyes landed on Scaramouche, head wandering through scenarios that you created about him and made your heart race without your permission.

The situation got to the point where one of your teachers called you to talk about your sudden lack of attention during class and your friends started to worry, asking you if everything was okay, you just shrugged it off as a personal problem.

Maybe if you took the time to actually talk to him and get to know him better, that would stop, right? Wrong.

It was incredibly difficult to maintain a topic with Scaramouche (that or he didn't pay you the slightest attention). He was closed off, in a way that scared you. His hat was still stored with you inside a large bag that you took to school every day. You weren't the shy type, so why so much trouble handing his belongings back? It's not like you got attached to it or anything...

But in the end, talking to him ended up being inevitable, as you were paired up together to work in pairs by a great irony of fate. All you had to do was ask a simple "what do you have in mind?" for him to start babbling on his own, and you just assumed that was how you'd bring up a topic next time...

"Next time?" This should be the last one! It was just a matter of handing over his hat and continuing with your life, but did you really want that?

He would never know the dark places your mind wandered to as he spoke huge sentences without a single pause. How his velvety voice sent you soaring.

It was so naughty of you to take your fantasies — that you were supposed to have in the confines of your room — to the classroom, your thighs rubbing against each other under the table in search of relief.

"Are you even listening to me?!" His call would bring you back down for a second. Your chin rested in the palm of your hand, but without stopping your mouth from opening and a little drool dripping from the corner.

Maybe you would listen to what he had to say if he threw you face down against a counter, aggressively took off your shorts just to fuck you from behind :(

Of course, it'd be more difficult to understand and assimilate what he wanted to say in your fucked out state, but he could thrust the knowledge into you!! Moving his waist like crazy and laying his chin over your shoulders. His mouth so close to your ear that all you could hear were his off-key moans.

He'd look so cute all concentrated!! Eyes closed and sweat running down his forehead. At some point he would get so out of control that his tongue would roll out, and thin lines of drool could be seen in his mouth. You could be his little fuck toy, as long as he uses you and only you for his pleasure.

The way he'd squeeze your waist too... After having made you cum so many times, of course that area of your belly would be sensitive! The way he squeezes you, at the same time he thrusts his dick with all his might into your wet hole, you think you're going to faint. It even feels like he's hugging you like a cute teddy bear, without caring how messy he's leaving your insides.

"You're not paying attention again..." he complains, clearly irritated. You nod and he rolls his eyes, continuing with his speech when he thinks he's got your attention.

But maybe that's not the right way... He should leave you on your knees in front of him, sucking his dick willingly so you can learn your lesson. Doing your job of cleaning him up after he had taken his cock out of you.

Classes end and you say goodbye to Scaramouche. He's clearly surprised when you pull him into a hug, rushing out before he can say anything, smiling and giggling. Now you were covered with his sweet scent. The same fragrance that impregnated his hat.

Oh, and about the hat... Who knows, maybe one day you'll return it to its owner again? It's still very useful to you. (╯︵╰)

part 2

#𝜗𝜚 [ m0uchie posts! ]#૮꒰ requests ꒱ა #+18 content #divider by cafekitsune #tw: obsessive behavior #scaramouche smut #wanderer smut #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #scaramouche x reader

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procrastiel · 19 days

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My highlights from The Assembly:

Was John Taylor from Duran Duran your first ever crush? “Yes, he absolutely was.” Michael thought he was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, man or woman. And he tried to imitate his hairdo (didn’t work out though, because Michael’s hair is really curly and John’s is straight).

He’s not brave enough to go on Strictly because he thinks he’s not a good dancer.

How does it feel to be dating someone that is only 5 years older than your daughter? “Both of us were quite surprised when we got together, it wasn’t something we were looking for. I haven’t dated anyone who is much younger than me but you meet who you meet. We were both very aware how people might respond, and that it would be difficult and challenging, but ultimately we felt that it was worth it, because of how we felt about each other. And now we have two beautiful children together. We’re really, really happy. I am aware that I am a much older father, and it does worry me, and makes me concerned, and makes me sad thinking about the time that I won’t have with them. But if you find someone who brings you happiness and you make them happy you gotta go for that. So that’s what we decided to do, and I’m so happy we did because we have this wonderful family now.”

The next question (asked by the same girl) was: Who is the rudest celebrity? “Have you heard of a man called David Tennant? He was Doctor Who. Doctor rude! No he’s very nice. Someone will occur to me and I’ll let you know. (pause) Jennifer Laurence was very cheeky! She is very cheeky.”

How tall are you? “I’d like to be 5”11 but I’m closer to 5”10.”

He likes Dylan Thomas, even though he doesn’t understand all of his poetry.

He cries probably every day. And it’s totally fine to feel things deeply and get emotional about things.

His favourite Disney film is Moana. And that’s Mabli’s favourite movie at the moment, too. She watches it about twice a day.

He’s worried that AI will take his job away, and that it will change everything, not just actors and writers. And that by the time we will want to put a stop to certain things it’ll be too late.

His favourite food is Egg and chips. Only enhanced by ham.

He loves going by train.

If he could replace 2 people of the royal family he’d take away Andrew & Camilla and replace them with Joe Lycett & David Attenborough. Or Tom Jones as the Prince of Wales!

If he could play the Doctor or the Master, he’d like to play the Master and play opposite David Tennant as the Doctor.

His biggest fear is being alone. And it’s also what he worries about the most for other people.

Hot or cold? He does like winter and snow. ❄️

Walk us through the before, during and after of the kiss with David Tennant: reading the script he thought “that’s gonna be a big deal”. They didn’t really talk about it and just went for it. Everyone was quite moved by the scene, all the people around them, so they knew it had gone quite well. And now they never talk about it. (He said that last bit with a smile.)

5 OF THE INTERVIEWERS SANG HERE COMES THE SUN FOR HIM AND EVERYONE JOINED IN AT THE END 😍 Michael had tears in his eyes

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358jours · 1 year

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Yanqing x GN!Reader⎢But I’m so ‘eepy

Word Count⎢1300

Genre/Tags⎢SFW, fluff, Reader is a big introvert and is sleep deprived, shopping dates, PDA, written and posted before game launch⎢Crossposted on AO3

You stifle another yawn as Yanqing drags you around. You’re holding hands, fingers laced together. He walks ahead of you, loud joy in his steps. He’s almost always sporting a smile in public, but the happiness radiating off of him right now is something else. He forced you out of your room today, and though you love his presence, your social battery can only last so long. At this point, you’re practically dead weight he’s carrying on his own.

Yanqing is an energetic young man, extroverted, optimistic, though perhaps a bit naive. He enjoys anything that has to do with swords the most such as taking care of them, training, competitions. He’s also a big spender on his hobbies, always ending up begging his father –or even you– to finance his basic needs. Many people are aware of who he is due to all that, and also the fact he’s the lieutenant.

You are the opposite. An introverted soul, sleep deprived, fond of staying inside. You tend to stay up far too late into the night, kept up by good video games, and bad decisions. “I can still play, like, fifteen minutes more”, cue three am beeping on your alarm clock after hours passed unnoticed. You could count on one hand those aware of who you are too. First General Jing Yuan, the leader of the Luofu himself, then an unnamed accountant, whose existence only matters for a single reason (your pay), and Yanqing himself. Perhaps Marshal Hua might count as well as she knows about everything, but you never met her personally.

Yanqing is the only person able to drag you out of your room for more than an hour, and the only person able to drag you out outside at all. Perhaps ‘drag you out’ is too strong a word as you always consent to going out with him, but your mood is a bit sour from your dead social battery and the fatigue in your body. As far as you’re aware, everyone on the Luofu market street has dubbed you “Yanqing’s sleepy partner” (You can’t really blame them, it would be quite awkward to ask “so what’s your name?” while your self-proclaimed knight in shining armor is right by your side). You have a very “cat and dog” personality contrast that makes people laugh, opposites attract or so they say.

Yanqing pulls you forward amidst the crowd. “Finally, we’ve arrived at the Artisanship Commission!”

You take a moment to take in the sight. The sun is high, barely two in the afternoon, and illuminates the red city radiantly, this shop as well. The view is beautiful, yes, but honestly your mind is so jaded, it’s hard to grasp reality. Hopefully this is the last stop for today, Aeons know you won’t survive if you don’t get your afternoon nap. You hear Yanqing's voice and– oh he’s talking to a vendor, nevermind. They seem to know each other, by the way they laugh at least.

You look over to the swords on display. They’re all impressive, a vast range of different colors and sizes. The one you like best is mainly clear blue and has a yin-yang on its guard, it looks pretty though perhaps a bit heavy for Yanqing? The second one is thinner, it’s mainly black with white and blue accents. It would look good in his hands. The one beside it is ew full-gold yellow, and though the color is less than attractive, the details forged on it are stunning.

You don’t notice the vendor handing Yanqing a sword. He lifts the hand you’re holding, and looks at you curiously. You let go sheepishly to which he only smiles. The vendor giggles. Ah, embarrassing.

You space out once more while Yanqing listens with grand attention to the explanations about the ki-controlled attacks the sword can perform. You’re kind of staring at him as he tests the sword through different movements, touching the blade with the tip of his finger. It looks alright, but the swords on display are prettier. He hands it back, the vendor leaves for a moment, and comes back with another. The same happens, and again, and again, and you feel your legs more and more. Trying not to yawn becomes harder and harder.

Your interest is peaked when the vendor brings him the sword with the yin-yang guard. They talk about the features again, he moves it a bit. He hums, does bigger movements, it seems he likes this one too. You rest your head against his shoulder “I like this one.”

He shifts his head slightly. “Really?”

“Yeah. It’s pretty and it goes well with your outfit. You should take a dark gray scabbard to go with it.”

Yanqing hums. He looks at the sword one last time before handing it back. “Alright, I’ll take two, and two dark gray scabbards.”

The vendor looks very surprised, but happily obliges. They shuffle, occupied in preparing his purchases. Your partner sports a smile on his face, his happiness showing through his proud stance. You don’t fight your yawn this time, and close your eyes. You open them soon after at the sound of a pathetic whine and your name however. Yanqing’s face is contorted in dread. You’re a bit confused about what is wrong, your mind foggy— oh.

His wallet is completely empty.

You laugh loudly, which makes him even more embarrassed. “Hey, come on! How am I supposed to pay now? And I already said I was taking it home too…” But it only worsens your fit. You grip onto his arm to not fall. The vendor comes back, and Yanqing hastily hides the hollow pouch. He looks at the vendor worriedly as you continue laughing against him.

“You two are adorable together. Mind repeating your joke?” The vendor smiles at you both.

“Yeah, thank you. Uh.” Yanqing let out an embarrassed laugh as he scratched the back of his neck.

You recover enough to hand your credit card to the vendor. “He forgot his money at home.” Yanqing stutters as the vendor snorts. You’re handed back your card, and your partner receives his new swords. He carries them with his left arm while his right hand is occupied, as he refuses not to hold hands with you whenever you are out.

You walk together for a bit, saying nothing. He’s not dragging you everywhere like before anymore, thankfully. The sun is still high, but at least forty minutes have passed, if not more. Yanqing is the first to break the silence, “You should name it, the sword. But it’s important so you should think deeply about it, yeah?”

You hum, your mind occupied by other priorities. You pull him in a direction. “Nap time.”

“What?!” He’s taken aback, clearly confused and in shock. “No way I’ll let you name it that!”

You pull him again and— push him to sit on a bench? He’s still lost, looking at you for clarification. He’s by the far side while you go sit in the middle. He’s about to ask more when you suddenly lay down. Your head goes to rest on his lap. “Nap time, wake me up in one hour or if it starts raining.”

Yanqing opens his mouth and closes it, still confused although now flustered. “Really? Right here, right now? I thought you disliked being in public.”

You hum a bit, shifting, making yourself comfortable on the hard bench. It would take longer than one hour before getting sunburned right? So this is probably fine. Between the sun high in the sky, the soft breeze, and the comfort of Yanqing, you don’t think you’ll have much trouble resting in public. “Bed is too far, and I’m so ‘eepy.”

He huffs, although there’s a smile on his face. “Alright.”

#yanqing x reader #HSR Yanqing x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #star rail x reader #honkai x reader #x reader #nekonohanashi

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

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Unexpected 56

Warnings: non/dubcon, child endangerment, pregnancy, pegging, Lloyd being the worst, post partum, csection, suicidial ideation, Andy is nasty in this, violence, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You go through the drawers and grab some clothing for Luna. Just enough without weighing you down. Then you take Luna out of the crib. She’s awake but quiet. Almost as if she senses something’s happening. You cradle her against you and move slowly through the space.

You see Andy’s body on the floor. You’re too afraid to even go near him. You reach across the bed to fish out the cell phone on the opposite nightstand. You try to unlock it but don’t know the code. Dammit.

You look down at your daughter and shudder. You lay her on the bed and take the phone. You stare down at Andy and his arm sprawled away from his body. You grit down as you bend down and lift his hand, pressing his thumb to the screen. You watch the screen flip open and you retract, staring at him, expecting him to rise and catch you in your flight.

You gather up Luna again and the extra clothes. You take her to the door as you hug her tightly and keep your other arm around the fabric, thumbing through the phone. You find the security app and after several attempts, you unlock the right door, the latch clicking back loudly.

On the other side of the door, you lock it again. It will buy you enough time. You don��t know exactly what your plan is, your mind just puts one thought in front of the other. Get dressed.

You find clothing from his dresser and pull them on. Loose but it doesn’t matter. You tie the oversized sweatpants over your hips as tight as you can. Shoes… those are another matter. You stuff the toes with socks and double up the pair on your feet. A coat over a hoodie and you should be fine. An extra pair of pants and sweater shoved into the bag you find in the bottom of the closet.

You pack up Luna’s clothes with your own, layering her in a hoodie as well before tying her around you with a sliced pillow sheet. Your work methodically through the dark, the phone your only light. You put your hand on your baby as you go to the kitchen and scour the cupboards for anything you can take with you.

That’s it. You have to go. No more time to waste. You can’t risk it. If he’s alive, if he wakes up, that door won’t stop him forever.

You near the entryway and slow. You stop at the small table and stare at the leather wallet resting next to a key dish. You pick it up and unfold it. There’s a credit card… you might be able to get a few bucks off of that before ditching it.

You stop at the door and take a breath, the knapsack drooping on your back as you keep a hand on Luna. You flip the lock back and peer out at the night, the sky softening with the early hues of the looming morning. You step out into the world. A new world. Your world.

You’re numb as you come up to the end of the walkway and pause again at the threshold of the suburban sidewalk. You take a breath of the crisp air and shiver. You’re not cold, you’re scared but in a different way. In a freeing way.

You look down the avenue, towards Lloyd’s house, another prison you once knew. You can still go back. You can walk the half-block and just give in. No, you can’t. You won’t settle for that. You won’t let Luna live in your resent.

You turn your back on it, unsure of where you’re going. Away. Anywhere but here.

Your name stops you from taking the first step. No. Please. You should just keep going, act like you didn’t hear them but you can’t. Harlan calls you again, his footsteps shuffling across the road.

You face him as he steps up on the curb. He looks you over, his eyes fixating on your child. You press your hand firmer to her.

“I knew… I been watching,” he says darkly, “what… did you…”

“He might be dead,” you shrug, “Harlan, I’m leaving.”

He’s quiet. It’s tense and full and horrible. He lowers his head and reaches to touch the bundle around his grandchild. He nods and lifts his eyes to you.

“I know. You woulda either way,” he utters, “you’re not wrong for it.”

“Are you going to tell him?” You ask thinly.

“Nah, I won’t do that,” he says as he unzips his packet and slips his hand beneath, “you go…” he takes out his wallet as you watch dumbly. “Take this.” He hands over cash, “he can’t track that.”

“I… thank you,” you accept the money.

“You keep her safe. Yourself too,” his voice wobbles for just a moment, “I looked… I-I did. I was watching that man…”

“It’s okay. We’re okay.”

“You will be. Now, you listen,” he searches in his wallet again, “you take my number. You ain’t gotta call me right away. Just me, not Dotty. The longer you wait, the better, but you let me know when you’re settled. Let me know she’s happy.” He hands over a slip of paper, “you go to the next and you buy yourself a burner. You text me and I’ll tell ya where to go.”

Your eyes tinge. Maybe you could stay. Maybe you should.

“Don’t you start doubtin’ yourself,” he insists as he shoves the paper into your pocket.

You swallow and gulp tightly. Without a word, you step closer and stretch your arm around him, hugging him as you try not to smother Luna. She coos as you do.

“I love you, dad,” you say as you give him a squeeze.

“Love ya, too, honey,” he pats your back, “and the little one.” He pulls back and looks down at Luna as she wriggles. She’s bigger now, almost too big for the haphazard sling.

“I’ll call,” you promise.

“You’ll go. Now.” He pushes his shoulders straight and lifts his chin, glaring past you to Andy’s house, “I’ll make sure that bastard don’t follow.”

For a moment, you wonder if he means Andy or Lloyd.

You let him past, turning to watch him march up the walk of Andy's house. You don’t move until he’s inside. You reach into your pocket and pull out Andy’s phone and card. You don’t need that. You throw it into the garden and spin back to the street.

The sky brightens as you head down the street, lighting the way as if trying to illuminate the world ahead of you. You’re going to do it right this time.

You can handle the unexpected, that doesn’t scare you. You fear falling back into the same traps as before. This time, you’re going to do it on your own. And you’re going to show your daughter how to do the same. She won’t be like you, she’ll be stronger.

🍑🍑🍑

End

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #drabble #unexpected #series #the gray man #defending jacob

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theprettynosferatu · 2 months

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“I hate you so much”, she said. “I fucking despise you. You are the worst kind of person to ever blight this world and if I could, I would stomp you like the roach you are”. Her words were most certainly strong; however, they were somewhat undermined by her smile, by the sensual, almost dance-like movements of her body as she removed her top.

“I am well aware”, he said, reclining on the sofa.

“You have no idea. You fucking ruined my life, you piece of shit” she said before biting her lips in a perfect picture of lust.

“And yet here you are. Again”

“You know damn well why I’m here, you monster”

He did. That was part of the charm of the whole affair.

Her hatred for him had been long held, and nurtured lovingly for nearly a decade. In college, she took an instant dislike for his jokes and remarks, which she felt, rightly, to be sexist and dumb. As they matured politically, they found themselves staring at each other from opposite ends of the spectrum. As they entered professional life, her intelligence and skill propelled her well above him, a sin he could never overlook. It was an animosity as strong as true love, as enduring as the sun. And yet she looked at him with the tender eyes of a willing lover as she went to her knees.

It was true. She hated him. But she hated herself more. Or, more precisely, she hated how much her body adored him, how deeply it needed him. His… Every inch of her skin tingled in anticipation, and she realized how seductively she moved even despite her hardest efforts to stop it. It wasn’t her, she tried to remind herself. It was that damn… thing. Her breath came in short, panting bursts. Her eyes fixed on the bulge in his pants. She desperately wanted to blame some sort of mind control, of hypnosis, of strange, sci-fi implant in her brain for how pathetic she was being, and how delicious her pussy felt, eager with anticipation. Sadly, she knew better. She knew what would happen the second she saw his cock. Hell, she could almost smell it and it made her drool. And there was no magic behind it, no esoteric mystery driving her actions.

It was chemistry. She knew it as well as he did. She knew exactly how he had turned her into… this. She knew why her body loved it. She knew it wasn’t love. She realized, consciously, she was simply… fiending. Addicted. A victim of chemical dependency and his fucked up expolitation of her situation.

He always loved this part. When her eyes retained some defiance, her absolute hatred of him was on full display, her disgust with her own actions hidden behind a teasing smile, a bite of her lips. Her body was performing because it had learned exactly what he liked, how to get the drug it needed from him quickly… and the woman behind that body was trapped between her need and her true feelings. It was a delicious mix, especially because they both knew he could destroy her with a simple act, and there was nothing she could do about it. He could tell she was almost shaking, resisting the urge to rip off his pants- an urge he had trained her to resist simply by denying her what she craved most when she gave into it.

Cum. His cum.

She couldn’t help but blame herself. She had done the research, seeking to understand addiction in order to help people, analyzing how the brain reacted to different patterns of rewards and even chemicals… only for him to use all that and turn it against her. And she knew in one second all of it wouldn’t matter to her one bit.

He smiled. She was beautiful, no doubt about it- her jet-black hair, her big, dark eyes, her generous figure… but that wasn’t what attracted him the most. No, it was the way her brain shut off completely as soon as she saw the object of her obsession. That split second when she tried to fight it, when she hated herself for failing, and then…

It only took a single look, and her brain was flooded. Cock. His cock. His beautiful, perfect, delicious cock… Her mouth watered, her body started shaking as the last of her self-control gave way to the animalistic, primal need to…

Perfect. So perfect. The taste. The way she could feel the blood flowing through its veins. It’s strong, conquering hardness. Why would she ever fight against this? Why would she ever think of anything but feeling it in her mouth, taking it deep inside her throat, licking it adoringly? It grew and grew in her mind, pushing everything else away. Her job. Her dignity. Her family. Those things seemed so trivial, so miniscule next to the sensation this cock gave her, as if it made every inch of her skin as sensitive as her clit, her mind a raging inferno and yet perfectly calm: it made sense to worship. It made sense to love this cock. It was just… her place.

Every now and then she fought back. “I hate you”, she would say before moaning and taking him in her mouth, using her tongue to pry moans of pleasure from him, which in turn made her shiver. His pleasure was her pleasure, because his pleasure was a herald of the reward to come. “I hate you so much”, spoken with the loving tenderness of a schoolgirl declaring her love to her first crush.

For a moment she thought of her husband, her daughter. She hated the way this cock made her feel. Hated that she loved it so much more than her family. Hated them for not letting her live in constant worship of the big, perfect cock. Hated herself for thinking it. Hated how good it felt to think about it. Hated how her pussy soaked her panties without it being touched.

“I hate you so much…” she didn’t mean it. Not anymore, not at that moment. But she knew he loved to hear her say it. Loved the power his cock had over her. And she needed to make him cum. Needed to taste it. Needed to swallow it. “You ruined me… you made me into a cock-addicted whore… your whore…”

He was close. She could feel it. Her entire body tensed up, ready to give in completely. “I hate that I love you…”

It happened. Her mind went blank as she swallowed every drop, convulsing in an orgasm that was more than just an orgasm: it was the fulfillment of her purpose, it was heaven and an embrace and complete, perfect peace. It was happiness. It was true love.

He watched her smile on the ground. This made it all worth it: the experiments, injecting himself to make his cum the most addictive substance on Earth… the most powerful of drugs. She was in complete ecstasy. Sure, it would last maybe an hour and she’d go back to hating him. But that wouldn’t last long. Sooner rather than later her body would need him again. She would shake. She would be unable to think of anything else.

Yes, she would hate him. But addiction was stronger than hate.

Did you enjoy this story? You can support my work at patreon.com/prettynosferatu

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itstheghostofmypast · 28 days

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Pollen Love (1/2)

Florist Choi San x (F)Reader

Summary: The world had always been a bit too dull for the florist, a bit too rough for his petal like soft heart, stomping on it whenever anyone would deem fit - but was she any different? If so, why was she out of his reach, why did the world pluck away the flower that was supposed to put his bouquet back together?

Genre: Hurt + Comfort

Warnings: heavy self-criticism, violence, language

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4.3k

Est.Read Time: 25 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @san-network

Banner: @cafekitsune

A/N: A two part treat till I work on my main series.

"Woah there, what happened- did the boss come at ya, at like-" he turned to check the giant clock at the opposite end of the floor, "8 am- you want me to go knock some sense into him?" he asked, pulling out a dozen tissues from the 'free tissue box' and pressing them on her nose, signalling for her to blow, only for her to smack his hand, and point at something.

"What- oh" he stared at the bouqet of blue roses wrapped in a pastel yellow paper, all tied up with a with bow. "Wait- he made a move on you?"

Snatching the tissues she blew in an extremely ungraceful manner before throwing them away, "You idiot, they're your birthday gift, take them away before I die."

His fingers touched the soft petal of a rose, smiling at the sweet gesture before turning around to hug her only to be smacked across the face with a file. Letting out a mixture of a whimper and a growl he stared at her, hand on his now pink cheek, "So many mixed signals."

"I'll kill you, wash your hands! You know im deathly allergic to pollen!" protesting she sat down on her swivel chair, crossing her legs and glaring up at him. "And what mixed signals, you should be thankful I didn't shove them up your a** for not inviting me to your birthday party."

Letting out an exaggerated fake gasp he knelt down infront of her, placing a hand on his heart, "And for that I am truly sorry, my bestfriend since childhood, but please understand how the guys wanted me to go with them to a certain club where I couldn't possibly take you."

"You shouldn't be celebrating your birthday at a strip club anyway, it's extremely unhygienic," she mumbled, glancing at the flowers and then back at him on the floor on his knees, the usual Wooyoung theatrics.

"Yet, so entertaining -"

"You're disgusting."

"But a simple man."

"Get out of my cubicle".

That was three days ago, today was a Thursday, a regular, boring Thursday so did Wooyount expect to find another bouqte in his cubicle, no. Did he find one, yes, this had been going on since Monday and at this point Yunho and a few on the others floor had begun to assume there was something going on between the two. So, like any best friend, he decided to confront her during break.

Turning off the faucet she shook her wet hands over the sink, looking in the mirror to check up on her makeup, her ears picking up the sound of the door opening, "There you are!"

Turning to look at the all too-familiar voice before letting out a shriek and throwing the bar of soap at him, as he ducked skillfully, being all too aware of her habit of throwing things at him.

"THIS IS THE LADIES RESTROOM."

"Well I'm having lady issues," he said before aiming the bouquet of sunflowers at her, only for her to take a step back gasping, "My lady, mind you a horrifying one, has been leaving me these bouquets when I clearly know she doen't love me enough to face death each day." as soon as he was done they heard someone flush and the last stall open, his eyes widening in fear, about to make a run for it but she grabbed his hand, "Oh no, now you face the consequences."

"So, who are you in love with?"

"For f***'s sake." hissing she face palmed, Wooyoung's boistorous laugh echoing across the tiled walls. Before them, Yunho stood infront of the sink, rolling up his sleeves as he begun to wash his hands, turning his head to meet her questionng glare to which he shrugged, "Ladies washrooms are cleaner, men use toilets like pigs and..." moving closer to reach beside her, he pulling out a few tissues, "Ya'll have tissues."

Rolling her eyes at this statement she turned to Wooyoung, motioning for him to move, only for him to move the bouqet closer to her face, watching her nose scruntch as she covered her mouth. Muffling out a whine, "Wooyoung, come on, its nothing, just let it go, I let go the fact that you went to strip club to your birthday and didnt celebrate with me-"

"THAT'S WHAT YOU TOLD HER ?"Yunho, who was now leaning against the counter hollered. That's when she noticed it, the silence, the way Wooyoung was shaking, in...fear. No...this mf wouldn't have...could he?

"Yunho" he hissed, slowly moving back as she stepped closer to him, "You a**hole." is all that escaped him before he made a beeline for the elevator, "I SWEAR I WANTED TO TAKE YOU BUT YOU HAD YOUR PROJECT THE NEXT DAY" he yelled running into the eventor, pressing on the close button before she could jump in. Unfortunately for him, she was able to stick her hand in before the doors closed, automatically opening again.

He backed into the opposite wall, "I c-can explain." holding the bouqet to cover his face until she snatched it and started beating him with it, "YOU PROMISED TO GO WITH ME- f*** I CAN NOT BELIEVE YOU WENT TO THE IMAGINE DRAGONS CONCERT WITHOUT ME!"

"IM- ow- SORRy-STOP"

The elevator stopped at a random floor and dinged, not that the two even pressed a button in this first place, they only stopped when someone cleared their throat. Pausing midscene the two- Wooyoung who was covered in petals and Y/N who was holding the dead beat bouquet, the wrapping paper crumbled to shreds- looked the people standng at the entrance.

"Umm..."

"Everyone, but these two, are normal." Jongho explained and entered the lift, someone next to him nodding and entering. That's when Wooyoung noticed, buff dudes hang out with buff dudes, that and how his bestfriend was twitching, slowly moving behind him, trying to hide, like she was...shy? He hadn't seen her ever flinch around any other man, let alone shy away from one. It was at this point when is gaze moved from her, trailing to catch the face of the man standing next to Jongho, who was offering her a shy smile in return. He was an eight...or at max a nine...or 9.98- point is he wasn't extraordinary, in fact, when did he start working here? Wooyoung always knew everyone, and this strange, tall mountain of a man was not part of the everyone, nonetheless, the creep was disturbing his dear darling demon, which is why he chose to speak up.

"Haven't seen you before?" his words calm but with an edge to them causing Jongho to let out an exagerted sigh and the man to nod at him, an introvert huh, still had the guts to hit on her? Creep and a weirdo.

"He doesn't, I just wanted to show him the gym here." Jongho turned to face the two idiots, the lady who sends him her work in late almost every week and her scoundrel of a friend who makes sure to finish all the morning free muffins before the poor bear can reach the break room.

"I almost couldn't recognise you without the mask?" the stranger spoke in a hushed tone, causing her to dip her head even more, mumbling a, "I didn't think you would."

"You know this creep?" Wooyoung turned to her, before biting his lip when he felt her heel dig into his toe. Pretending she wasnt doing that she bowed in apology, only for him to smile at her, "It's alright, so, this is who you buy flowers for each day?" his voice as soft as the clouds, as smooth as velvet, though unknown to her, those words, the sight of her standing so close to the rude guy, watching them physically engage before the two had entered the lift had set something burning in him, anger? Jealousy?

F*** no, they were not for this moron, but would she tell him the real reason? Of course not, shaking her head, she was about to speak when Jongho cleared his throat, "Anyway, San, let's go ....and you two...stay out of trouble." with that he walked out, her frantic gaze meeting San's calm eyes, with one last dimpled smile he walked out with a "Hope to see you around Miss."

With the doors closing she bit her lip, this is not how she wanted to him to see her, this is not what she wanted him to think- wait, was he going to stop being nice to her? Or would he just treat her like any other customer? Or-

"So, that's him, huh?" his words broke her train of thought, slinging an arm over her shoulders, "That's the guy, you face death for each morning, the guy you are willing to buy for, because he got your itty bitty heart in his palm and he has -until today- not seen you without a mask, not because you're hygienic, no, because you'd literally get an allergic attack and die?"

Sighing in defeat she rested her head on his shoulder, "I'm pathetic, aren't I?" as she let him lead them out to their floor, as fun as this was, they still had half of the day left and he had some investigating to do.

"Nah, not pathetic, just desperate and stupid."

"Thanks, Woo."

"Anytime."

"You gonna do something or just stare at the weights?" Jongho asked as he got off the treadmill, noticing how his friend had been distracted ever since they got off the elevator. To be honest Jongho had brought him here because this was closer to work and San's shop, and since he'd get off work late it was easier for them to continue with their routine at this office gym, rather than the one near their apartment complex.

"Oh- no, sorry." San mumbled, sitting back on the bench, reaching to pick up a dumble, only to freeze at the next choice of words his friend spoke so casually, "Can't believe thats your masked lover."

"She isn't my lover." he hissed cranning his neck around to glare at the man who was now sitting on the bench next to him, chuckling before chugging down a whole bottle of water.

"No" sighing, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, "She's got you whipped, but you didn't know she was in a relationship- you're such a romantic Sannie."

"I'll throw this at you. I swear." placing the dumble back down, grumbling he got up, no longer interested in working out anymore, choosing to stretch out the tension in his muscles instead.

"And I'm surprised you never bothered asking for her name."

"Drop it." with that he grabbed his duffle bag , "I'm going to hit the shower."

"Mhmmm...so what was more distracting? Her skirt or the fact that you saw her face for the first time-" Jongho's sentence was cut halfway when a towel was smacked on his face, San's attempt to shut him up before disappearing around the corner to the washrooms.

Today was not a good day. Well, yesterday wasnt one either, well it was till he found out that the lady he had been saving his extra silky ribbons and prettier flowers for was in fact in a relationship, or at least what looked like one. Today, he had gotten up earlier than expected, a minute before his alarm rang, which only added to his anger. Then the water ran out while showering, so he had to stumble out of the tub, eyes closed, trying to keep his eyes safe from the suds of his shampoo, almost tripping off what may have been his own pants. After that fiasco, he had missed the bus, which meant he was late, which meant he wasn't opening his flower shop, his pride and hardwork on time. But was he upset about that or the fact that since he was late, he wouldn't be able to see her today- wait why is he even thinking of her?

In midst of his crisis he missed someone standing in front of him and bumped into them, thanking God for his cat like reflexes as he balanced himself quickly, hands instinctively reaching to grab the hand of the falling individual, pulling them up into his chest.

Her forehead bumped against his chest, his arms secure around her waist, her own palms pressed against his warm chest, the sweater warm and fuzzy under her finger tips.

"S-sorry." peaking up through her lashes, her face flushed at the sight of his curious gaze. "It's alright" smiling down at her, suddenly his day turning a bit brighter, "No mask today ?"

"W-what? Oh, " her fingers instintively reaching to touch her lips, before nodding, "Yeah, I forgot...you're late today." eyes meeting his once more, as he gave her an apologetic smile and nodded. Never had she been able to look at him up close, sure she had seen him work before, thats how she started to develope these feelings. The way he'd be so focused, his sharp gaze to the way the tip of his tongue would peak past his pouty lips, the way his hair would fall over his forehead, caressing his eyebrows-

"I leave for three minutes."

"Oh-"

In an instant the warmth around her was gone, much to her displeasure, he had moved back, hands at his sides, no longer holding her close, much to his own displeasure.

"Morning" Wooyoung cleared his throat, before taking a sip of his coffee, eyes on the man who was staring back at him. To her, it looked like a gentle stare, but Wooyoung could see the swirling emotions behind his dark orbs, the anger, the jealousy- oh he was going to have so much fun with this.

Clearing her throat, she turned to Wooyoung, "What are you doing here?" who smiled at her, one that anyone who didn't know him would feel was the most honest smile one could see, but she knew better. He was up to no good, as he walked up to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, pulling hercloser, "Didn't we see you yesterday?"

San's eyes caught th visible the dicomfort that she displayed for a second, certain gears in his head working quick, fists clenching at his sides- this wasn't his matter, and Jongho had told him to stay away from this stuff or he would kick him out, this was a new start, and he wasn't going to ruin it.

"You did," averting his eyes from her face he eyed Wooyoung, scanning him, he was smaller than him, in stature and build, bet he was quicker than him though- no, he wasn't supposed to be thinking like this anymore.

"San...right?" her words catching him off guard, inhaling sharply he turned back to her with a smile, "Nodding, yes, San, Choi San." Noting how her she was mimicking a smile of her own, eyes swirling with untold stories, ones he'd love to hear, all the time.

"Wooyoung" he brought his hand forward, somewhat coming infront of her, much to San's displeasure, but he shook his hand nontheless, with a fake smile, before catching her eyes again, his fake smiling morphing into his dimpled one.

"Will you be coming in today?" he asked them, "Give me a minute I just have to open up-"

"N-no its okay, we were just passing by!" she cut him off, before looking at how the two idiots were still gripping onto each other's hands. Wooyoung was going to be the death of her.

Turning his head to look at her he nodded in understanding before he felt the idiot squeeze his hand, only sparing him a glance then looking at their clasped hands, an awkward silence settling between the three.

"Umm..."

"Wooyoung."

With a firm nod he let go, smirking at the way the bigger male wiped his palm with his pants, trying to be oh so discreet about it.

"Good grip" was all he said before moving to Y/N, "Let's go, love." walking ahead as she sighed, wanting to smack him so hard right now. Turning to San she bowed politely, "I apologise, he can be a handful sometimes, it was nice seeing you."

She was almost a good foot away before he called out, "WAIT!" causing her to freeze in spot, whipping her head around to stare at him all doe-eyed, his heart hammering against his ribcage, demanding to leave with her, "I didn't catch your name..."

"That's because you never asked me, silly." chuckling at his curiosity veiled with his shy demeanour, "It's Y/N."

With that she was gone, running after the a**hole, according to San, who had noticed how he was making her uncomfortable by the passing minute. A part of him wanted to go and give him a good piece of his mind, but he knew not to, he had promised Jongho he wouldn't get into fights anymore, he wouldn't let the world write his story for him.

"Having fun?" she hissed, entering his cubicle, noting how she was ignored. Her source of anger was glued to his desktop, glasses at the tip of his nose, eyebrows scrunched together in concentration. Eyes skimming each word before him.

"Wooyoung I-"

Words pausing at the rude gesture, a finger pointed in the air as if asking her to shut up for a moment. Huffing, she stood there, leaning against the entrance of his cubicle, arms crossed as she looked around waiting for him to finish with his dramatics for a good twenty minutes.

"Aaaand done." twirling around in his swivel chair he stared at her, manspreading, "Yes, child."

"SIT PROPERLY!"

"YES MA'AM." fixing his posture in an instance he cleared his throat, sitting cross-legged watching her lean against his desk, eyes frantically darting from her face to the screen.

"Let's go, Love?" quirking a brow she asked, "Are you trying to ensure I have no shot with him?"

"Quite the opposite, stupid one, I'm trying to ensure you do."

"You got a shitty way of showing it."

Clicking his tongue he rolled his chair closer to his desk, smacking her knee, then pointing at th screen, "Look."

Rubbing her knee she stood up, turning to look at the screen, "What- oh my god, you're stalking him- Oh he looks cute her" her words rushing out before she could bite her tongue, earning a high pitched laugh from her friend.

"Stop" whining and covering her face with her hands she peeked through her fingers, watching him scroll through the florist's shop's social media account.

This was the most fun Wooyoung had had since highschool, it had been so long since he'd seen his oh so perfect friend a mess, sputtering nonsense. "My point is, he has no personal account, and this one is recent too, its only for the shop and considering he only has male staff- this other dude - man do all buff people have like this secret club-"

"Your point?"

"Yeah sorry, my point is that he has no lady in his life, so you've got a shot."

"And pretending that we are in a relationship is going to work how?"

"He's shy and you're hopeless at this, someone has to tip the scales and be pushed to make the first move- and we all know how your first moves involve stupidity."

"I regret knowing you for so long."

"Ooooh what are we discussing here?"

The two froze at the third, new voice entering the scene, "But, I feel like people who come in late should be more concered about their work, not Sannie's love life."

"Sannie?" the two squeaked but with different tones, with different intentions.

"Yes, Sannie, San, Choi San, man who is not part of your assignments for the week. Neither of yours." he stated as a matter of fact, slowly nudging Wooyoung's chair out of the way as he moved closer to the screen, "New account, huh..." scrolling down at an inhumane speed he hummed, "So, how's his shop?"

"Nice."

"Average."

"Wooyoung, you've never been there." She sighed at his comment, "It's not average, its very nice, its pretty and colourful."

"Wow, bet saying that would get you in his pants, huh?" Wooyoung mocked, rotating in his swivel chair, smirking at the sight of her tainted cheeks- perhaps he did want to show their boss, that he deserved the raise rather than her, or maybe just embarass her because it was fun, or just both.

Luckily for her Yunho had completely ignored that statement, instead turned around to her, "So, you're allergic to pollen and you still go to the shop?"

As embarrassing as it was, it was true, "Yes." mumbling she stared at her shoes, instantly glaring at Wooyoung who had whispered, "Simp".

"Does...he know?" Their boss inquired, before closing the tab and turned to face them completely.

"No! God no, he'd never let me in the shop if he did, I mean he seems like the caring type and-" her words came to a fault at the sight of the two men smirking at each other, cause her to whine and slap Wooyoung's shoulder.

"WHY ME?? HIT HIM TOO!"

"He's our boss."

Huffing she turned to look at Yunho who gave her a gentle smile, "You're right, he is the caring type, but" his lips quirked downwards, something she noticed instantly, "He's not s pet project, so is this a little crush or do you actually like him, which brings me to my next question, how could you like someone without even knowing their name?"

"I..."her words hugged the silence that came after, staring at her shoes then at Wooyoung for some help, but he looked at her with the same look her boss was giving her, she did like him, but she didn't know a lot about him either- well technically a while ago she didn't even know his name. What if this was a meaningless crush? There was no guarantee that he felt the same way either, what if he thought she was some annoying, clingy customer that-

A gentle squeeze of her hand had her look up from the all too interesting floor, only to find Wooyoung standing right before her, giving her a small smile. He raised his hand, watching her flinch but he chuckled, "You're crying silly..." he whispered, the thumb of his free hand stroking her tear stained cheek, watching her let out a shaky sigh.

"I- I wont- I mean I-"

"He didn't mean it like that...he just wants you to be sure of your feelings...I think they were close friends." Smiling at her he made her sit down on his chair, "Don't worry, I get it, I've never seen my demon sent to me straight from hell cry for a guy, so you must really like him, we just gotta figure out a way for you to get to talk to each other without chickening out, yeah?"

She nodded only to look at the person who cleared their throat, Yunho, standing there awkwardly, "I uh...I was only kidding, I didn't doubt your intentions....but damn...who knew I'd see the employee of the month, the holder of Woo's reigns, end up crying all because of Sannie-"

"I hate you." She hissed, grabbing a tissue box and flinging it at him, only for Wooyoung to catch it mid air, "Holder of my reigns?" He turned to Yunho who shrugged, "It's a name that stuck, most of us did think you two were an item" the taller man shrugged before looking at her sitting there in self-doubt, making him feel worse, "I, I think Wooyoung should go on with his jealousy plan, if Sannie didn't have the slightest crush on you, he wouldn't have smiled at you like how Jongho told me he did."

"You spoke to Jongho about this?"

"Yeah, well he did talk about the way San was distracted at the gym thanks to your skirt-"

"Jongho also said get back to work and not waste the first half of the day playing matchmaker."

The three froze at the new tone, slowly turning to find the bear like man standing there with his arms crossed, shaking his head, "I'll count till ten"

"Oh I'll win because I'm already at my desk." Wooyoung smirked earning an eyeroll from Yunho and scoff from her, watching the two walk out as he stared at Jongho who was glaring back at him, "Is she serious about him? He's been through enough as it is, it took us some time to bring him back on track."

"She is. I- its actually the first time I've seen her act this way, the real question is, is your boy fixed enough to treat her right?"

"Guess that's something you'll have to check for yourself....you are her...boyfriend after all, even if a fake one." With that Jongho left the cubicle, leaving Wooyoung alone with his thoughts, on one hand he was debating whether this interference was worth their time, but then again, he was right, he'd never seen her like this, not when he had confessed to her back in highschool and she had politely declined his offer, or when that guy in college asked her put publically- well, technically she had put him back in his place there and then and Wooyoung thanked God that he had the bestfriend privilege back in highschool too because if this is what she'd do to someone who tried to pressurise her due to the public presence even if she did once say this guy was cute- he'd hate to see how she'd deal with someone she disliked.

So, there were two questions that bothered him, was the flowerboy fixed enough to handle her? And did she now possesses the gentleness to handle delicate flowers?

Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @marsvillee @spooo00oky @the-kpop-simp @mlysalt

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genshingorlsrevengeance · 2 months

Note

Can I please request Rosaria, Kuki, and Eula with a robotic S/O who doesn't know how to show love properly so they just bring them "interesting objects"(anything from shiny rocks to a ruin guard)?

Thank you for writing ^-^

(Genshin Impact) Rosaria, Shinobu, and Eula with a robotic-like S/O

Very related image:

Good Burtabos, Rosaria thought she was bad at showing affection.

S/O had all the expressive capabilities of a rock. And that was insulting the rock.

They didn't really understand how love worked, not that she was any better, yet they were together.

Rosaria's love language was her actions. S/O's seemed to be gifting her the most random object in the most deadpan voice.

(Rosaria) "...S/O, why do you just have an entire crate with you?"

(S/O) "It is full of Dandelion Wine. I am aware you like to drink it."

(Rosaria) "Sure, but where did you grab it?"

(S/O) "It was lying on the floor unattended. I believe it does not belong to anyone."

Rosaria didn't know whether to laugh or facepalm.

They stole it, pretty much.

(Rosaria) "Thanks but, did you at least ask?"

(S/O) "...I did not. But, it is 'Finder's keepers', as they say."

(Rosaria) "...Eh, what the hell. Care to share a glass?"

Well, at least Shinobu didn't have to worry about S/O doing anything stupid on purpose, unlike the Arataki Gang.

Instead, S/O showed their affection by bringing her some objects that reminded them of her.

It was sweet honestly, but given their nature, it was bound to get...weird.

(Shinobu) "S/O, there you are. What do you have in your-"

(S/O) "These are masks belonging to fallen Samurai. Please, accept."

The only visible expression change on Shinobu was her eyes blinking, which S/O blankly dropped the mask at her hand like a dog.

(Shinobu) "Thanks...I think."

(S/O) "You are welcome. In case if your mask ever gets damaged, we can use these for repairs."

Shinobu just chuckles underneath her mask, eyes softening as she looked at S/O.

(Shinobu) "Remind me to get something for you too, S/O."

(S/O) "Shinobu, you are to-"

(Shinobu) "-Later, I mean."

It's a good thing Itto didn't reach S/O first, otherwise he'd definitely tell S/O the complete wrong ways to show affection.

They'd probably have them do something stupid, like punch through drywall or something.

Eula and S/O were complete opposites on the way they spoke to people.

Eula was usually mocking, prideful, or just saying something she didn't actually mean.

Meanwhile, S/O was deadpan, direct, and extremely literal.

How they ended up in a relationship, even Eula didn't really know or see coming.

Especially the ways S/O displayed their love.

(Eula) "...S/O, what the heck are you doing?!"

S/O was carrying a boar encased in ice inside a wagon, with S/O looking completely emotionless as they responded.

(S/O) "You said that a dish was best served cold. So I have procured us dinner in the coldest state possible."

(Eula) "Wha...But I-...How, why did...?!-"

Eula sighed before deciding there wasn't really any point questioning anymore.

(Eula) "I'll get ready to cook the boar. Mind getting that ice cube near a fire?"

(S/O) "But you said-"

(Eula) "It's a figure of speech, S/O! But...thank you, you didn't have to do that."

(S/O) "I comprehend."

(Eula) Do they...?!

#genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #rosaria x reader #kuki shinobu x reader #eula x reader #rosaria genshin impact #kuki shinobu #eula lawrence

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sukunasdirtylaugh · 3 months

Text

tags: gojo x f!reader, bridgerton au. (unedited) word count: 1.29k

it seems as though lady whistledown had taken a liking to you. born out of a prestigious lineage, your name was untainted, holding no negative connotation other than the envy your perfectness shone over anything.

like a porcelain doll, as the queen has once referred to you as on your first visit.

your mother and grandmother before you married as 'pure' with little to no scandals involved, yet it was your mother in her time who caused the biggest uproar in suitors to pursue her. even today, you had grown up with maids, nannies, and people well acquainted with your mother, and your mother at times who would share details over her diamond years. 3, to be exact.

now you felt an obligation to live up to the family name, to honor the work your mother has preserved before you so that you could comfortably live a life with no shame, and you swore that you would do the same for your own children.

if, you decided to bear them.

tonight, you stand in a glorious dress, embedded with the stones your mother and trusted modist claimed to make you look radiant. yet that seemed to be the opposite for you. 4 dances have occurred in your presence and only one man approached to talk to you. the worst thing was that he was unsuitable, and your mother had to intervene, breaking apart the association and taking you to another.

"he was boring," you whisper shouted at your mother who eyed you, aware to not make a scene as you stopped by a secluded balcony. "it seemed everything I told him, he would restate it or make it obvious. it was like talking to myself! if I wanted to, I would have sought company from my mirror."

"how frustrating." you nod in agreement with your mother.

"have all good men gone to waste mama?" you ask, stress and tears welling in your eyes. "If this is the first man I encounter, I cannot bear to think what the rest of them might be like. Or is it I am just ugly?"

"hush, child." your mother holds your shoulders, then cups your cheeks. "you're not acting like yourself tonight. don't let one bad apple ruin your basket. you are young, gifted, and come from a name. you are something because you came from me. have I not taught you well?" she caresses your arm in comfort. "come, wipe those tears that are threatening to fall. you will cause a scandal on your own if you are seen crying tonight. let's find you an honorary man."

that night you only danced with two men. they remained respectful, yet not enough to provoke intrigue in you. though you would never outwardly admit that to your mother, at the end of your second dance, you went for a beverage. opting for some time for yourself.

"I couldn't help but wonder if you were running from that man after that dance, or if the conversation was that good you needed to excuse yourself for a beverage." the voice snickers, standing beside you, "he was terrible, right?"

"I wasn't, I was just dehydrated." you remark, careful with your tone as you defend your doings. as you stand beside him, you cannot see his face as he is taller than you. lifting your head up would raise even more spectacle as you saw one woman and what appeared to be her sister point at you with the mysterious man at your side.

"so do they just dehydrate fair maidens now? seems like a trick to get you to marry the first man you see,"

you don't answer him quick enough.

"lord higurama is a good choice. he has a fair name and a inheritance to obtain, however, be wary of his drinking problem. heard he leaves bars at ungodly hours of the morning with holes in his pockets."

you can't help but gasp softly, almost in disbelief as the man beside you spoke so poorly of the men you danced with. it might have been a given that you needed to get out of here after those girls pointed at you with shock on their faces. have you just ruined your reputation?

"I respectfully fail to see how that is any of your concern, sir." you state, imposing a formal limit, "I have no desire to engage in talk if it pertains to stain the reputation of others."

"please," you hear him snort beside you and you freeze, feeling yourself slightly become smaller. "his reputation is done for. I'd be doing you a favor

"and your reputation, good sir?" you counter, but when you hear silence from him, you fear you have crossed the line. it isn't until you are pulled by mother you see this man. white hair adorns his features while stunning blue eyes decorate his face. the hold your mother has on you let's you know to stand well, and be presentable.

"Lord Gojo," your mother bows, slightly forcing you to bow with her, "what a pleasnt encounter to find you here. my condolences to you and your family after your father's passing."

"lady levington, you are too kind." he man before you bows, offering your mother a charming smile you can't help but hold back a jaw drop at his sudden charming behavior. "I assume you are enjoying your time at the final winter's ball?"

"indeed," your mother smiles charmed, "we were just enjoying our time at the ball. this is my daughter, lady levington. she is of the age to begin looking for a suitor," your mother states, "wouldn't you agree?"

"well I find it difficult to believe that your daughter will struggle to find a suitable partner given her agreeable nature," your jaw slightly clenches, "I suppose you have a large list of eligible bachelor's for your daughter?"

"oh yes," your mother smiles, "but I tell my daughter we must select carefully. it is growing rather difficult to choose an honorable man for marriage, yet modern problems always continue to arise with the passing of time. wouldn't you agree?"

"I couldn't have said it better myself," he smiles, "finding a husband has been growing to be tedious by the years, yet that is why we must be careful in selecting. london is unfortunately filled with lots of ineligible bachelors starting off with lawyers with questionable drinking and spending habits. a poor reflection on our society, wouldn't you agree?"

"it is unfortunate indeed," you mother sighs softly, "but we shall look carefully to ensure a positive outlook for the future."

"that is always a pleasure to hear," smiles gojo, offering a bow. "if you'll excuse me, I must be on my way. it has been a pleasure to find you in good health, madam. and the best of my wishes to your lovely daughter as well."

after some concluding exchanges, your mother stands proudly with a smile on her face. "you will not believe who we just spoke to." she says, moving you away from the drinking station. "we must bid our farewells and leave as soon as possible."

"why?" you frown, "the dance doesn't end until-"

"-we've already met an eligible bachelor," your mother smiles, "you should've seen the look on everyone's faces. you will surely draw attention now, my dear."

the following day, you wake up to the following news from lady whistledown, having written an article about you.

"at the winter's ball, lady levington's beauty could be seen from a mile away, drawing the attention of lords. standing with such poise and grace, lady levington has proved herself to start off as an indestructible force with honor as her first name. will she perhaps be named diamond of the season? or indestructible diamond?"

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writingforatwistedworld · 1 year

Text

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, murder, death, stalking, violence, obsessive behavior, obsessive behavior, unhealthy relationship, blood

Your totally normal isekaid househusband

Vil by himself is already... something?

But then imagine, someone that can use magic ending up in our world

Yeah, becoming more or less a househusband is not exactly high on the list of possibilities

Jokes on the list though, that is exactly what Vil did

One year later and he is standing in an apron in your kitchen whilst you are rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, him greeting you with a “Have you slept well? I made breakfast.”

He can barely suppress himself from hanging a “darling” at the end

Or from proposing to you but Vil wants to do that with style... and when he is finally able to calm down enough that the thought of marriage with you doesn't make him a flustered puddle

For anyone else he wouldn't even have lifted a finger but for you? He is the perfect stay at home partner

The Chronicles of neighbor gossip speaks of a legend that says that angels are weeping tears of joy and singing chorus whenever Vil wipes the house own for the last speck of dust

Despite being held in such high regard, Vil is not part of the tightly-knit neighborhood spy system

Aka hpstay at home partners gossiping with each other

Oh no, he has better things to do

Like making sure that one coworker of yours finally gets it and stays away

Doesn't matter if they are from the opposite or the same gender as you

Once you brought over a new coworker that was a bit too pushy and followed you all the way back home just for them to be found dead the next morning

You would believe that the model would return to modeling, needing that sweet sweet cash, but no, he doesn't

Why should he when he can also do your laundry and smell the sweet smell of your shampoo that has rubbed into the fabric... WHY ARE YOU SO EARLY HOME??!

And he totally does not want to speak into a pillow whenever you look at him with that cute, tired expression when you come home after a long day

The only time Vil cares to be social is when it could be for your benefit or he has to make sure that no one gets too close to you

Ok, yeah, you probably aren't a fan of that one noisy neighbor lady... Let him take care of her?

Oh you know, just let him bake some cakes...

“No da- *ahem* don't take a piece. I made them for her. It never hurts to be nice, right?”

HAS SO MANY PHOTOS

Pro tip, DO NOT open his closet

If you do, you might find yourself feeling a bit invaded when it comes to your privacy

But other than that, he is a perfect househusband!

Do me a favor though, ok? Don't let too many others into the house

One day you might hear something snap and then the kitchen needs a change of wallpaper

And maybe the police needs to be called but who am I to talk

It's not like the crime rate went up after he arrived, right?

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wambsgansshoelaces · 5 months

Text

Turmoil; Chapter 1

Roman Roy x fem!Reader -read the rest here!

Prompt: slowburn romantic drama, arranged marriage plot line

a/n: thank you to anon for requesting! if you requested this fic, please tell me so I can tag you! I apologize if this reads as unrealistic or too dramatic- but please let me know your thoughts!

Word Count: 2.358k

Nothing. You’d turned yourself into something from nothing.

You’d ended up in New York on your own, running from your past, vying for a fresh start. With a degree from Harvard law in your pocket and an unsatiated hunger for success, it only took one case to change your fortune.

Your boss had pawned the case off on you because it seemed impossible. A man charged for real property fraud, and heaps of evidence to prove it. You initially thought you’d pawn the case off to some other schmuck, until you’d been given an anonymous tip and found a discrepancy in a bit of evidence that unraveled the opposition’s entire case.

It was a massive win- not just for you, but for your entire firm -and it came with a massive raise.

A few years later, you’d amassed an egregious amount of money in total and even more respect from those around you, so you quit and founded your own firm. You’re thankful for everything you have. You stay humble, you’re likable, and you make sure everyone in your employment is as well. It keeps you afloat- New York loves you, but more importantly, they trust you.

It earns you millions.

You’re happy with the life you lead. You frequent charity events, donating whenever you can, staying kind. You know what kindness can feel like during a period of misery. You remember what relief felt like when extended a hand, so you extend yours whenever you can.

You help the people around you. You’re kind to everyone, conduct yourself with grace, and are aware of yourself and those around you.

Maybe that’s why Logan Roy chose you.

He’d written to you a week ago, inviting you to dinner to discuss business prospects. You assume he’s gotten himself into a legal pickle involving some of his questionable activity which some regard as criminal.

When you enter the restaurant, one of his men spawn at your side and lead you into the dimly lit back where nobody is sitting. Your heels click on the marble, your gait not wavering.

“Mr. Roy,” you say when you see him. He gets up, albeit very slowly, and shakes your hand.

“Y/L/N in the flesh.” He sits back down and gestures to the seat across from him. You oblige. “You’ve made quite the name for yourself.”

“I do my best.”

He beckons over a passing waiter. “Get her whatever she wants. Put it on my tab.”

You quietly order a small appetizer and watch him watch you.

“Well, Mr. Roy, I hate beating around the bush. Why am I here?”

“The first case you worked on. Do you remember that man’s name? The one you proved innocent?”

“Connor Frost. I don’t forget. Never showed his face once.”

“About him. For witness protection and press reasons, we were allowed to alter his name in the official papers. We also got away with him never being there.”

Your heart misses a beat.

“Connor Roy was on trial for real property fraud, and you proved him innocent,” he continues. You school your face into neutrality. You get a sick feeling in your stomach that won’t stop growing and gnawing at you. It threatens to eat you inside out. “I hate to burst your bubble, but he was guilty. Fucking stupid, it was.”

You blink. “I don’t mean any disrespect, but-”

Logan’s eyes never leave yours. “But nothing. The deed you found in Connor’s name? Forged. And the people who forged it were paid more than enough to never think of speaking about it in court. You couldn’t have known it was fake, so you took it to trial and won. I practically bankrolled that raise of yours.” You can feel yourself begin to itch. “Initially, there was never any need to tell you. If I had things my way, I’d have let you live your life doing whatever the fuck you wanted. But my son had other plans.” As if he didn’t just reveal that your first case was a joke, he offers you some wine. You quickly decline. You feel like you’re going to puke all over him.

“Kendall. You know Kendall.” His voice drips with venom. “Would’ve given everything to him, but he obviously has different ideas for the company. I can’t let him take it now. He’ll fuck up everything I’ve worked for and put into place at Waystar. And I’m not giving the company to the idiot who accidentally committed fraud to the point of felony, or the one who’s running around the world with her dumb fucking political bullshit. That leaves me with one son. So the company has to go to him.”

Logan tops off his glass of wine. “But, by God’s grace, this leftover son is the fucking stupidest of them all.”

You have no idea how this has anything to do with you.

“Let me be clear, Miss Y/L/N. I respect you. You’re a fantastic attorney. I’d have you on retainer- I will, once my current contract with that Frederica jackass runs out. But you must forgive me for all of this. I have to do what needs to be done.”

He inhales, then sighs. “For you to take control without me losing public face, I want you and my son to come to an agreement in a partnership.”

You have to give him the dumbest fucking look for him to respond with, “Marry him. I need you to marry him.”

“I’m sorry?” You can barely keep your composure. You think you’re dreaming, or someone spiked your water, or you’re dead, or anything but this.

“I can’t have him in control. I can pretend like he is, sure, but I need someone with a brain at the helm.”

“I… my degree is in criminal law. I have no idea how the corporate, let alone financial world runs.” It’s all you can think of to say.

He waves you off. “You’ll learn.”

You don’t know what to say. You probably look like a fish, mouth hung open as you gape at him. “Surely someone else is better suited to this than me. I won’t. I can’t.”

“This is why I had to apologize,” he mutters. “Do as I say, and our secret is kept. Walk away, the tabloids will learn of a little lady who buried and forged evidence to win her first court case.”

“You can’t be serious. I thought it was real!”

“The public doesn’t know that. Regardless, I’ve done worse. I’ve ruined stronger, more powerful people with much less.”

You press your lips into a thin line. “I suppose you’ve left me with no choice,” you grit out.

Logan smiles and claps his hands together. “Welcome to the family.” Your appetizer finally comes and is set in front of you. You don’t feel that hungry anymore. “What are you waiting for? Eat!”

He takes a bit of calamari from you. “I think it goes without saying,” he says, “that if you say anything about this conversation we’ve had, you’ll end up prosecuted and in jail for fraud.”

☾𖤓

You feel like you could punch a hole into the wall. You can’t believe it. It’s pure dumb fucking luck that you got caught in this.

Logan Roy didn’t choose you for your legal prowess, or any of your skill or ability like you’d stupidly believed. He chose you because he has control over you, and he knows it.

A few days pass, and you begrudgingly drag yourself out of your rotting place in bed. Cursing yourself the entire time, you change into something nice. Logan told you he was throwing a party in your name, to introduce you to the family- and the inner circle, you knew.

If anything, you think to yourself, you look fucking good.

You’re not prepared for the onslaught of paparazzi that bombards you the moment you step out of the house.

That bastard must’ve told the press about your engagement.

There’s nothing you can do but get into the black sedan waiting for you at the bottom of your driveway. You’re probably going to have to move, now.

You sit in the backseat, simmering the entire drive. You have to prepare yourself for the hell that’ll be stiff arming paparazzi to get to the party.

When you pull up, you take a deep breath, and step out the car. The man sitting in the passenger seat got out before you and walks out in front of you, another flanking you as you push through the chaos.

The flashes are almost blinding, but you keep your eyes open. Every picture taken tonight is going to be circulated tenfold by not even tomorrow morning. You hope you have resting bitch face in all of them.

Your miniature guard manages to get you inside with no issues. You’re late on purpose, and it seems like the room goes quiet when you enter.

The crowd stares back at you as you survey them. As much as your rage is telling you to make a scene, you won’t. Time and place, you tell yourself.

Immediately, you can tell Connor recognizes you. He tries to avoid your gaze, but your rage bubbles up and out of you. “Mind if I steal him for chat?” you ask the girl standing with him, voice painfully faux-sweet. You feel like you’re on Love Island, in some sick, twisted way.

The girl gives Connor an awkward pat on the arm before leaving him be. You can feel peoples’ eyes burning into the back of your head.

“You told me,” you begin, voice dangerously low, “that you didn’t do it.”

He looks everywhere but at you. “I was just doing what I had to.”

“Was fucking me over what you had to do? Because I feel like that’s all you did,” you hiss.

“Do you really think someone like me is going to ever go to jail?” Connor scoffs. “It could damage my reputation.”

“It could damage my reputation,” you mock. “Are you fucking stupid? Fucking God.”

You turn to leave, but immediately pivot back. “You’re a Roy. You would’ve been bailed out immediately. You wouldn’t have even gone to jail for an hour.”

You’re fuming. You’re barely holding it together.

Then, you catch the eyes of a man not that much taller than you, dressed in all crisp black. He’s handsome, you think, a light stubble dotting his jaw and soft eyes that wrinkle gently when he smiles.

He excuses himself from the conversation he’s having to come to you and Connor.

“Connor. You’ve met my lovely bride-to-be?”

You’re back to fuming, any thoughts of his beauty gone.

He sticks his hand out to you. “Roman Roy. Nice to meet you, I’m your fiancé.” His voice is painfully bitter.

“You think I want this any more than you do?” you ask under your breath, your handshake way too firm. His grip on your hand is equally as tight.

Connor snorts. “At least act like you like each other.”

“You’re the reason any of this happened. Keep yourself out of it,” you snap.

Roman sighs and turns away from Connor. “Can we go for a walk? We should probably have a word.” To your dismay, you agree.

As soon as you’re out of the main atrium and by yourselves in a grand hallway, you speak freely. “Listen, this is nothing personal,” you begin, “but I’m looking for a way out of this.”

Roman looks over at you as you walk, both of you going at a snail’s pace. “I don’t stink, do I?” He sticks his hands in his pockets. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry this happened to you. I know he’s blackmailing you.”

You sigh. “I should’ve known something was wrong with the case when I never saw my fucking client in person.”

“Well, I want this over as quickly as you do. My father doesn’t want me anywhere near the company, and I’d like to change that.” You both stop walking to face each other. Maybe you two can be friends, despite everything.

“Let me make something clear, though.” Roman takes a step towards you, leaning forward to whisper in your ear. “I’m only in this for me. Not you.”

Whatever positive thoughts you’d had were chased away. You spend the rest of the night fuming under your skin, lying through your teeth, and standing by yourself in the corner.

Siobhan Roy is the first to approach you.

“I admire you, you know.”

“Your father said that too, and look where I am now.”

She presses a flute of champagne into your hand. “I’m not my father.” You share a tense look. “Listen. I think we can do something good together,” she says lowly. “You want to disentangle yourself from this situation, and I want my father out of the picture when it comes to Waystar. Some of my clients have used your firm during political scandal. They all came away unscathed… I have full trust in your ability.”

“What do you want from me?”

“When the time comes,” Siobhan says, “I want you to help take my father to court. And put him down under. So to speak,” she adds. “And I’ll help make sure that if my father ever says anything about you, nobody believes it.”

After Siobhan, it’s Kendall.

“Shiv talked to you.” He’s worse at keeping conversation than she is. “I would also be involved in this. I’d take my dad’s place as CEO, Roman becomes COO.”

“I take him to court, I’m told.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you do, and you win,” he says carefully. “And then you get so much money you can run away to some foreign country and forget any of this happened.”

You regard him carefully. “How can I trust you? Or Siobhan? Or anyone in this fucking place?”

Kendall pauses, and takes a moment to think. “You can’t,” is all he says before leaving you standing on your own once again.

Finally, Roman makes his way back to you. You bristle as you watch him approach. “I know you don’t really like me right now, but I want to go home and I can’t leave without you on my arm. So, shall we?”

You roll your eyes, but take his elbow anyway.

#roman roy #roman roy x you #roman roy x reader #succession #succession hbo #succession fic #succession x reader #slowburn #roman roy slowburn #romantic drama #succession slowburn #x reader slowburn #wambsgansshoelaces #turmoil

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dulcewrites · 1 year

Text

Unnerved

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader (kind of lol), implied aegon targaryen x reader (wc: 3.1k)

Summary: Being at court is a game, and your favorite opponent is a certain long haired Prince.

A/N: I sort of adapted this from my fool me once series. I got an idea of the reader being slightly more ambitious. But then realized that would change the story so this kind of a new one lmao. Some elements are from like Aemond being married (this time to Floris Baratheon) and possibly cheating 👀. But anyway just wanted to explore Aemond and reader being haters but also having crazy sexual tension. *insert something smart about Aemond hating someone that is a mirror of him*

The heavy fabric of your dress seems to drag more than usual.

The extra care given to your appearance hopefully will not go unnoticed. The gown is your most expensive. A deep blue Lyseni cut dress with beaded bodice, and silk sleeves that slip open and ripple like water.

Walking the halls of the Red Keep is at night is not something you frequent. Working up the courage was always something that made you falter. But the result would make it worth it.

You bite back a smile when you see Ser Arryk not near his post. For a moment you consider knocking, worried that Aegon may be in the room with someone. The thought never bothered you till recently. A surge of confidence overtakes when you just open the door instead.

The fireplace in his is uncharacteristically blazing at this point. You stop in your tracks when you notice long legs extending from chair near the fire. Long silvery blonde hair catches your eye, and your heart sinks. Before you can turn around to make a beeline towards the door, an eye flick towards you.

“My Prince,” you bow your head softly. “You are back from the trip.”

You try to keep you voice bright, and unassuming but you are sure disappointment colors your tone. Aemond gives you sly smile.

“Come to look in on my brother, I assume,” condescension laced through his voice. He gestures to the book in your hand. There were days Aegon did enjoy hearing you read, but most of the time the conversation dissolved into other things. He would start at the seats in his room, you at his desk… till the you ended up on his bed. Faces close, and whispers soft.

“Yes, Prince Aegon always enjoys hearing about the histories.”

Aemond’s polite disposition drops, and he lets out a short laugh. “Right, I am sure he enjoys hearing about the histories from you.”

You feel yourself falter. An unnerved and unprepared feeling burst in your stomach.

But a lady is never those things. Not ever. Your mother’s voice rings in your head. A true lady never worries. The best of them can turn negatives into a positive.

You put on the sweetest smile you can and nod.

“This week we read about all about Maegor the Cruel.”

Something flashes behind his eye that you can’t quite put your finger on. He hums softly, giving you a once over. Inspecting your dress, your hair, your face. The hair jewelry holding back your hair starts to feel like it is digging into your scalp. Not feeling comfortable standing and letting him dissect you, your feet lead you to sitting in the chair opposite him.

“I do hope Prince Aegon is well.”

“What you mean to ask is where is he,” Aemond corrects. “He was not here when I arrived. He may be out on a late-night joyride with Sunfyre. Perhaps wandering the Street of Silk for another type of joy.”

You say nothing, laying the book flat on your lap. It should not shock you. Aegon is not getting that from you. You know Aemond does not believe that by the false innocuous way he mentions his brother’s indecisions. Every bit of attention Aegon puts elsewhere is a win for him. He decides to twist the knife more.

“I bet the discussions you two have are ravishing,” Aemond replies sarcastically, leaning back further in his chair. It only makes you more aware of your posture. More of mother’s words - Back straight, chest out, and head up my dear girl. “Aegon has always been known for his ability to hold a riveting conversation.”

“I think you underestimate your brother. He retains information quite well, and loves to debate,” your hands trace delicately over the large book.

Aemond’s eye doesn’t leave yours. The enjoyment wiped from his face. He just stares soberly.

“You know the sad part is that I genuinely think you believe that. You think you will be able to carry on like this. Pretending this all for companionship and light reading.”

Your eyes drift to the fire. A part of you wonders what it would be like to just stick your hand in it. Would there be excruciating pain or would the numbness that you force into you mind spread through your body? The old wives’ tales Aegon tells of Targaryens being fireproof pop into your head. Maybe that is where Aemond’s gall comes from; the inability to burn the way others would. You wish you could test the theory. What a sight it would be to see him engulfed in flames.

Aemond lip curls a bit. “But at least you can pretend with the best of them. First born sons deserve the best, even the best whores.”

The harsh words are strangely tinged with pity.

“Tis a shame, the way court changes a girl.”

Your eyes snap back to him. “I am not a girl, my Prince. The same way you are not a boy.”

The two of you are the same age. The superiority in his voice is not needed nor appreciated. You must bite your tongue not the bring up the stories of youth Aegon has told you about. His life has been court fodder many times over. It would be too easy to bring up the strife a young Aemond had to go through. Too unladylike to bring up the little boy you know is still tucked under the bravado.

He would revel in taking you out of yourself.

“You could get out of it, before it is too late,” he pushes the subject more. “Marry some lord and be swept away from here.”

The possibility sounds nice. Away from court, away from your family. Maybe a different version of you would agree with Aemond. Acknowledge that being at court, that striving for more has stolen something from you. A life of simple monotony away from the Red Keep sounds lovely. But you are not a different you. You were made and pushed into the world in your parent’s image. Simple is not enough, monotony is not enough.

“I appreciate the advice,” you smile calmly. “But I would miss everyone too much to do that just yet. I would miss Prince Aegon, along with Princess and the children. As well as you and sweet Floris.”

Aemond stands abruptly at the mention of his sister and wife. The light from the fire reflects on the side of his face. He looks like something out of a fairy tale. You are sure he wants to look intimidating but looks more ethereal if anything. He shares that trait with his siblings.

He goes to leave without another, but a sudden urge washes over you.

“Wait, my Prince,” you set the book in the chair and go to where he is near the door.

You wet your thumb slightly, watching his eye linger on your mouth.

“You have a little rogue there.”

Your thumb traces over the vein on his neck, and you feel him stiffen under your light touch. You flinch a little when his hand grabs your wrist firmly. For a moment, you don’t trust your instinct fearing your boldness has taken you to a point you cannot tip toe back from. You become acutely aware of blade resting snugly against his hip. He could slit your throat easily. But you have seen him training; he would go for a more gruesome approach if given the chance. Slow and painful.

Instead, he gently placed your hand at your side. His hand making a route from your wrist to the delicate tips of your fingertips. There is a coldness left when he lets go.

He leaves without another word.

“I will tell Prince Aegon you stopped by,” you lie as you call after him.

Aegon does eventually show up. Riding gloves on, and cheeks splotched, pink from the cold. He goes on and on about something Sunfyre did. You sit, pleasant and accommodating, the way men like him want. Hanging of every word as if you would die not hearing the next one spill from his lips.

Despite the dragon drivel, your mind does not drift often, liking the easiness that comes with speaking with an agreeable Aegon. But when it does, it only fixates on one thing.

First sons deserve the best… even the best whores

“She is not pregnant, Your Grace.”

The maester seemed nervous to tell the Queen. Aemond bites back a breath of relief when the words come out, eye fighting to go back to outside the window next to the wall where he leans. Floris’ face scutches into a frown.

Alicent chews on her cheek in clear aggravation, a tell Aemond can pick up from years of noticing his mother’s ticks. But like any good diplomat, she quickly replaces the disappointment with smile towards Floris.

“Well, it can take time,” she tries to give a good-natured shrug. “No reason to worry.”

Alicent had gotten good at giving her kids the same empty placating statements sprouted to her by her own father. Everything is going how it should. No need to worry. You will be fine.

They do not believe her the way she does not believe Otto. She can at least say she knows her children well enough to see they do not believe it. Alicent is sure her father still deludes himself into thinking his halfhearted attempts at warmness work.

Even the smartest man in the Seven Kingdoms can be mind-numbingly daft at times.

The maester and Alicent jump into words of encouragement and ideas to help a seemingly upset Floris. Aemond assumes he should join in, comfort his wife but his legs don’t catch up with what his brain tells him is best. Instead, he stares out of the tower window, a flash of deep red and black catching his eye.

He sees you walking through the castle with such sure steps, in perfect tow with his sister. A creep of bitterness works its way up Aemond’s throat. The way you have encroached into the inner fabric of his family leaves him feeling uncomfortable. As if you were always meant to be here. A harmless addition, but he knows better. There is nothing harmless about the way Aegon looks at you.

The only vindication he gets is his mother’s shared hesitance. But in the end, he knows Alicent is too tired to say anything unless true harm is being done. Even she can appreciate Aegon having a singular focus for once, even if it not his wife. And she is undoubtedly fond of your strait-laced yet kind nature. You knowing your place makes all the difference. But Aemond sees hints of boldness and rashness.

It feels odd watching a woman not of his family so garishly wear the color that matches the walls of the castle. But too terribly fascinating to look away from. The black dress with Ruby red trimming sits off the shoulders elegantly. Your hair pulled up showing off a swan like neck that he has only seen on his mother.

Poised, well-read, quick witted, and all wrapped up in a pretty package. You are the ideal vessel for a royal bastard; he knows you see it too, you are too bright not to. A perfectly placed temptation.

He knows his brother is foolish enough to try it.

Mindlessly, his hand goes to his throat. The touch is not the same as yours. His sword withered hands nothing like the dainty soft one that danced across his nights ago. He swallows thickly.

“Aemond, are you listening,” his mother voice breaks through his thoughts.

He nods. As he pushes himself from the wall, he swears he can feel eyes looking up at him.

— — —

Aemond starts to wonder if all his thoughts will be tinged with violence and paranoia.

Simple ideas can be quickly shifted into something morbid. He does not when it started. After he lost his eye? After watching Aegon and Helaena get married? After learning about get married himself. It is easy to have this to turn into dust and ashes in this family.

Though Floris is a welcomed difference. The right amount of different yet bland enough that his thoughts on her dissolve into nothing. Sweet, and palatable; things could be far worse he guesses. He could be stuck with far worse. She lets him do as he pleases. Finds ways to occupy herself that has nothing to do with him, a comfort.

When he hears laughter coming from their chambers, he assumes she must be with one of her ladies in waiting. He internally groans at the small talk he must make with them. Pretending to care about whatever court gossip they dither on about. But when he walks in he sees a table full of tea and treats.

“My love,” Floris hops up from her seat, a bright smile on her face. A warmer disposition than the one she had been sporting since the news of not being with child.

Before he can reply, the person in the seat turned away from he springs up with equal vigor.

“Prince Aemond,” you curtesy, polite smile on your face.

For today, the cold, silk targaryen-esque garb had replaced with a lace emerald green and gold gown. Coils falling in way that create a halo around you. He should add chameleon to the list of attributes. The transformation is remarkable. The typical icy demeanor being washed away with a young, sheepish, and girly smile.

Aemond bites back a sneer. His body feels like it vibrates whenever you are near. He has not figured out if it is anger or something entirely different.

“We were just having tea,” Floris looks at you then at the wine on the table, and you two share a knowing giggle. “Chatting away.”

He waits for the moment you finally excuse yourself, but it never comes. The two of you continue to whisper and giggle as if there is an inside joke no one else will be in on. He tries not to focus on it as he takes off his riding gloves, and cloak.

A guard comes into the room asking for Floris. He sends a prayer to the Gods that his wife will take you with him. But all she does is tell you that she will be back soon.

“Did you have a nice ride,” your voice rings through the room. Aemond lets out a deep sigh, turning from the clothing cabinet. He turns to find you lounging in the chair, goblet in hand.

He doesn’t answer, just stares at her leaning against the wardrobe.

“I have always thought about it,” your lips are stained red from the wine. “Taming a dragon, riding a dragon. Your wife is very lucky.”

Aemond blanches at the image that passes through his head. The vibrating feels like it is starting to radiate inside to outside. You down the rest of the wine.

“I am assuming she had ridden on Vhagar with you.”

She had…. once. Aemond had assumed it would romantic or a deep connection would be had. His at the time future wife meeting his first friend. She threw up afterwards, politely saying that she would never want to do that again.

Dragons are not for everyone.

“Maybe my brother will finally put you out of your misery, and let you ride his.”

Your lips curl into a cruel smile. “I would like that. I hear one good ride always clears the head. I am sure you have needed that lately.”

Aemond frowns not understanding what you mean.

“Floris was telling me about your problems. Do not fret Aemond, impotence is very natural while under pressure,” your eyes travel down his body, and you give him a fake pout in pity.

Aemond is sure he is about to lunge at you. His vision goes red for a second. “I am not impotent,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Nothing of what my wife and I do is any of your business.”

He shouldn’t feel the need to explain himself to you. Insolent girl with too much time on her hands, and too many ideas in her head. Aemond slightly curses his brother for being the reason you even come around. You hold your hands up innocently.

“Your wife invited me to tea, and she brought up the conversation. I am only now trying to extend my support.”

Aemond always thinks the people around him are too trusting, too open. Helaena is painstakingly warm to whoever shows her an ounce of kindness. Aegon is easily swayed with pretty faces or a sense of camaraderie. His mother’s whole being shuts down at the sound of compliments. Floris is alone at court, in need a friend. You meet all of their needs in ways he cannot begin to. You know it as much as he does.

He should feel upset at his wife, but he doesn’t even have the passion to do that.

So, all he can do is focus on how you bring on a nagging tug in the pit of stomach. How he trusts absolutely nothing you do. How embarrassed he feels about you knowing any intimate details about him.

“But if I could give some advice,” you get up from your seat, walking towards him. “If your wife is not doing the trick, perhaps thinking about other things may help. Something that makes the blood pump a little faster.”

Aemond’s throat bobs. He glares, trying to think of cruel insult to dismiss the notion, but he finds his mouth dry and his tongue heavy.

The moment is interrupted by Floris coming in with a smile. “What did I miss?”

The transformation happens again, Aemond thinks. The low voice you had put on, and the hazy look in your eyes instantly go away. You turn to her with a chipper smile.

“I was just telling Prince Aemond about how I am looking forward to going to the orphanage with you, Princess Helaena, and the Queen on the morrow.”

You lock arms with her, and all Aemond can do is watch.

Wretched girl.

—— —

Later that night, when he feels Floris’s lips on his neck, and her hand working down his chest. He tries to think about how lucky he is. Floris is pretty, and kind. He has bolstered his family through the marriage. It should make him happy.

Despite himself, he finds himself thinking about other things. About berry red wine-stained lips, and a perceptive mind. A wet thumb tracing where his wife’s lips are. Heat pulls in the pit of his stomach at the thought of you wanting to ride a dragon. That night he cums harder than expected.

Maybe second sons deserve the best too.

#this weirdly being one of the fav things Ive written and I did it in like a couple of hours wimfksnf #like once an idea stick… it is STUCK I fear #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen imagine #prince aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond x oc #aemond fic #hotd aemond #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x fem!oc

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autisticlancemcclain · 1 year

Text

Keith stares.

Constantly.

He always has. Even at the Garrison, Lance can remember him just staring. Endlessly. Like he was looking right through you, or like he was staring straight into your soul. Sometimes both at once. He’d never spoken one word to Lance before they went to space, but Lance remembers that stare with complete clarity. (Probably because he was on the other end of it more than he’s willing to admit, with all his attempts to get Keith’s attention.)

The staring doesn’t stop when they get to space. It doesn’t stop when they accept their roles as teammates, when Keith finally starts participating in their (totally justified!) rivalry, when they begrudgingly decide that maybe they can peel back on the arguing, a little. When they realise how well they work together. When they start working together on purpose, and some of those stares come with a small smile, a quirk of the lips, really, that brightens indigo eyes and shows the tiniest peek of crooked incisors. (When tragedy strikes, and the stare is blank. After tragedy, when the stare only gets blanker, and they don’t talk about what happens next but when Lance comes into his room after days of no response, sits with him quietly, brushes the tangles out of his hair and reminds him there are still reasons for him to get up. When they really become a team, just the two of them, red and black and the leader and his right hand.)

When the stares only gets softer and softer, and when Lance is the subject of them more and more frequently.

“What?” Lance snaps one day, frustrated and embarrassed and tired of being the only one that Keith looks at so closely. “What are you even looking at? You’re always staring at me, man, like you’re trying to fuckin’ read my soul, or something. It’s weird.”

Lance feels bad as soon as he says it. It’s defensive and mean and he tenses, preparing for Keith’s upcoming scowl, the argument.

But it doesn’t come.

Instead Keith smiles. Not one of his quick ones, a barely-there quirk of the lips, but a real grin, wide enough to make his eyes squint and face brighten. The fondness bleeds from him; Lance couldn’t miss it if he was the densest person alive.

Slowly, like he’s given Lance time to back away, he reaches foreword and tucks Lance’s hair behind his ears, even though it’s too short for that and doesn’t do anything, even though it’s clearly all about the gesture, an excuse to touch Lance gently.

Lance’s breath stutters on his inhale. Keith doesn’t pull away, resting his hand on the side of Lance’s cheek, not quite cupping it but not quite not cupping it, either.

“God, I’m so lucky,” Keith murmurs, almost too quiet for Lance to hear. (But no. Not impossible. Keith could’ve said it at one decibel and Lance would have strained himself to injury trying to hear it.)

“What?” Lance asks hoarsely, well aware his face is flaming.

Keith only smiles wider. “How could I not stare at you?” he asks, like Lance isn’t losing his whole mind.

Lance clears his throat. Then again, and again. And a fourth and fifth time for good measure because what the fuck.

“Keith, what — what’s going on —”

“I am so lucky,” Keith repeats, firmer this time. He has the same stupid look on his face, like he cannot help but he besotted with Lance, somehow. He opens his mouth again and Lance knows that if he has to hear whatever mushy thing Keith has cooked up then he is going to melt into a puddle of flaming goo. Lance shoots out and slaps his hand over Keith’s mouth.

“Stop speaking,” he orders, face flaming. “Explain what the hell has gotten into you.”

“Those are opposite instructions,” Keith says, muffled, because he is a jerk. His eyes are sparkling in amusement.

“I am going to whoop your ass, Kogane.”

“Fine, fine.” He pulls Lance’s hand off his face and then links it in his, holding them in his lap. He rubs his thumb over Lance’s knuckles as he speaks. “You remember the mall food court? Two days ago?”

Lance tilts his head. “Yeah?” He doesn’t know what the hell that has to do with anything. They had a supply run a couple days ago, loading up on cleaning mods and food supplies and million other things, and he and Keith had stopped for lunch at the food court slash restaurant.

“You, uh, you remember that waiter?”

Lance frowns, trying to picture a waiter. All he can really remember is how Keith had laughed so hard at one of his jokes that soda had spewed out of his nose. He feels bad, but he can’t picture their waiter at all.

“No?”

Keith scowls. It’s such a stark difference from his sappy look before that it’s startling. “That weirdo, stuck up shithead who wouldn’t leave you alone. He called you pretty boy three separate times.”

Vaguely, Lance remembers some light flirting as the waiter set down the cheque. He can’t even picture the guy’s face.

“I mean, not really. I get called pretty boy a lot.”

He hadn’t meant it as a joke, but it makes Keith laugh. He looks relieved, like he’s been worrying about Lance and the waiter.

Like he’d been jealous.

The sappy look is back on his face. “Just made me think, is all.”

Lance’s throat is dry again. The air is charged, and Keith is staring again, eyes tracing every inch of Lance’s face.

Something is going to change tonight. He can feel it.

“Think about what?”

He’s leaned closer without realising. Keith smiles, noticing, and his hand comes back up to Lance’s cheek. This time he cups it blatantly, running the edge of a calloused thumb over Lance’s cheekbones.

“How lucky I am,” he murmurs, repeating his sentiment from earlier, “that we’ve got such a pretty boy on our team. On my team.”

Lance face flames. His first instinct is to deny it, vehemently, to ask Keith what the hell his deal is. Something ugly rears in his head, something hurt — how dare Keith make fun of him like that. How dare he mess with Lance about something he’s sensitive about.

But there’s not an ounce of meanness on Keith’s face. He’s looking at Lance in a way that can only be reverent, like Lance is the only person on the castle, the only person ever.

He remembers all of a sudden that Keith is the most honest person he knows. Keith, who can’t lie if he tries, who’s emotions are written all over his face all the time, who’s easy to rile up because he wears his heart on his sleeve, who puts every ounce of effort he has into everything he does. Who fights this war even though it’s hard for him because he loves everyone so much.

Lance blinks, and is more surprised than he should be to find his face wet. Keith’s face creases a little in concern, and he gently wipes the tears from Lance’s cheek.

“What’s wrong?”

Lance laughs wetly, more incredulous than anything.

“Mullet, if you don’t kiss me right this fucking second —”

Keith laughs. He doesn’t hesitate a second more, leaning in and pressing his lips to Lance’s, gently at first, then like he can’t get enough.

His eyes are closed, as he kisses.

Lance almost misses the staring.

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mccn-bcys · 2 years

Text

JUST A TOUCH OF YOUR HAND

pairing: marc spector x reader, steven grant x reader, jake lockley x reader

summary: when you turn eighteen, an ink stain appears on your skin wherever your soulmate touches you for the first time. the boys each are dealing with their stain in their own way.

warnings: angsty marc, fluffy jake, soulmate au, DID (I don't have DID so I'm basing my knowledge off of what is in the show, please correct me if anything is wrong), I'm also not a Spanish speaker (I used Google translate please correct me if it's wrong)

authors note: as stated in the warnings, im not a Spanish speaker so pls correct me if it's wrong. I also do not have DID and am using knowledge from the show. There will be a part two to this soon, but I figured I'd go ahead and give you all a taste! I really hope you like it!Let me know what you think! Please like and reblog guys!

word count: 1,817

when the black stain on their knuckles first showed, all three boys weren't sure what to make of its meaning. at first, they thought it was from holding their soulmate's hand, but that didn't make sense. the stain was just on the knuckles of their right hand.

it wouldn't be until years later, as they all started getting older, till they started having their own opinions about it. and after the boys were all aware of each other, they would discuss it. well, jake and steven would discuss it.

marc didn't want to talk about it.

steven wasn't fully convinced that he was destined to have a soulmate. maybe a platonic soulmate, but certainly not a romantic soulmate. surely they would've shown themselves by now, right? so steven decided it best to not romanticize the stain. he just settled on maybe it was a fist bump. or even a lighthearted shoulder punch. some sort of friendly gesture.

jake was the opposite. this man may have a reputation for being bad and mean and evil, but jake lockley was a huge romantic. he was obsessed with love. of course, the only people who knew were marc and steven.

he loved the idea that there was someone out there that was made for him. he liked to believe that they would love him despite the things he's done, despite his past, despite having two other people that shared his body.

he'd played the scenarios around in his head. there was the classic accidental brushing of his knuckles against you, maybe as you passed in the streets. he imagined that when he'd feel you brush his knuckles, he'd stop and turn, grabbing your hand and stopping you, and then it would be love at first sight. something out of a rom-com, marc would scoff. or maybe for some reason, he would be gently stroking your face with his knuckles. or maybe you dropped something, like papers or books, and you both bent down to pick them up and reached for the same book at the same time, your hands brushing each other.

jake would spend hours, just staring at his hand and the stain on it. whenever he thinks of his soulmate, he can't keep the giddy grin off his face. sometimes steven likes to indulge in jakes fantasies, just a little. but the fantasies piss marc off to no end. but all jake wanted? he just wanted somebody to love and somebody to love him.

marc didn't want to indulge in any fantasy, romantic or platonic. he'd convinced himself a long time ago that it was just a joke. he'd stare at the stain on his hand, but instead of with a smile like jake, he'd stare in disgust. disgust at the mark, at the world, at himself.

see, marc had come to the conclusion that the stain was from a punch or some kind of hit. he convinced himself that he'd only hurt you from the beginning, whether on accident or on purpose. but he had no intention of finding out.

he could never hurt you, whoever you were, if he never touched you. he made it a point to not touch anyone. he'd even stopped doing work for khonshu, so he wouldn't risk punching or hitting his soulmate.

he didn't deserve a soulmate anyways, romantic or platonic. he had done too many horrible things, there was too much blood on his hands. and he knew it was all his fault. he didn't deserve someone to love. he wasn't worthy of love. he was a monster. a killer. he always had been.

so when he was walking down the streets, head kept low, as he made his way to the grocery store to pick up some milk — because jake had forgotten again — he thought he was going to die.

it was busy on the street. everyone must be getting off work and trying to get home. marc had really tried. tried so hard to squeeze through everyone without touching anyone.

"this is just ridiculous, mate," steven scoffed lightly. marc could see him throw his hands up in exasperation from the reflection of the window across the street. "do you realize how extremely unlikely it is that we'd brush against them on the way to get milk?"

"not taking any chances," marc grunted, determined.

"are you scared you're going to accidentally punch someone on the street? plan on fighting anyone who bumps into you?" jake rolled his eyes. he thought this whole "no touching" thing was a bunch of shit.

jake had always tried to tell marc how ridiculous his thinking was. that even if their soulmate didn't like their night-time jobs or that they didn't want 3 soulmates in one, at least they'd be able to meet them, know that there had been someone for them.

and marc knew he was right. but that's part of what scared marc. what if they didn't accept him or his alters? what if they only wanted one of them? what if they didn't want to deal with their past? their baggage? marc didn't want to risk it.

"when you front, you are more than welcome to touch people on the street. but I will do whatever the hell I want while I front," marc scowled at his alter.

"mate...you could have worded that a bit better," steven cringed.

and marc was going to respond, but before he could even start to think the words, he felt it.

someone's hand brushed against his knuckles. against the stain.

and marc was ready to just brush it off. maybe turn around tell them to watch where they were going and keep walking. but none of that happened.

as soon as the person made contact with him, a shock went through his body and left a tingling sensation on his knuckles. he stopped dead in his track. jake was screaming at him to let him front — a request marc was adamant on denying. steven was suddenly nervous.

but marc? marc was terrified. if he turned around to look at you, it would only make it more real. marc knew it was you. knew it was his soulmate, otherwise jake and steven wouldn't be freaking out.

"oy, pendejo! si no los miras ahora mismo, nos tiraré de un edificio!" jake threatened, but it was falling on deaf ears.

"marc...you don't have to talk to them, but a glance couldn't hurt," steven tried pleading.

but how it could hurt. because if he looked at you, he'd be ruined. he'd want to talk to you. get to know you. but that came with the risk of you getting to know him. because what if you didn't like it? like him? or his alters? his past? his present? he didn't want to know what he could have with you if it meant he might lose you.

he had wanted to just keep walking. he tried so damn hard to just keep going. act like it didn't happen. but damn it, lockley had gotten enough control and kept their feet glued to the ground.

"míralas!" jake insisted causing marc to let out a groan.

"fine, but just a quick glance," he finally caved, receiving an excited cheer from jake and hopeful sound of agreement from steven.

taking a deep breath, marc finally turned around and for a second time, was frozen in place. even jake and steven were speechless.

you were beautiful. the way the sun was hitting your face right now? breathtaking. and you looked just as stunned as he did.

you had been dreaming of this moment since the stain appeared on your wrist. you — unknowingly like jake — had gone over every scenario possible for the black spot on your wrist. imagined what it'd be like to finally meet your soulmate. imagined what it'd feel like when they touched you for the first time.

never in your wildest dreams had you imagined it happening on your way home on the streets of london. never had you pictured being stopped on the sidewalk, staring at your soulmate just feet away as the world seemed to go on as if nothing was happening.

he was so handsome. his golden skin shining in the sun as he stared at you in awe. as if his whole world had stopped. the way his curls framed his face. and his eyes. oh they seemed to hold a storm. he seemed to be going through so many emotions at once.

you both stood there, staring at each other, seconds seeming to pass like hours. you weren't sure what to do and neither was he. neither of you had prepared for this.

"hi," you finally said. it had been quiet, breathless, especially with the noise of the city, but he heard you loud and clear.

"hey," he said back, making you relax a little. you were worried he wasn't going to speak to you.

"are you—" you both started to ask, which made you laugh a little. oh what he'd give to hear that sound again. he didn't even know your name but he'd give you the world if that's what you asked for.

"sorry," you quickly apologized before continuing, "do you mind?" you asked, gesturing to the stain on his knuckles, to which he lightly shook his head no.

truth be told, marc was terrified to move. no sudden movements, he didn't want to scare you off. you sounded so gentle, so kind. jake was begging to front. but marc wanted to be selfish for just a bit longer.

he watched as you took your stained wrist and brushed it against his knuckles again, both of you jumping slightly at the shock feeling coursing through you again. you beamed up at him.

that's it, he was a goner.

you introduced yourself, seeming a bit shy. all three boys repeated it in their head, loving how it sounded. marc had even repeated back to you and you were already addicted to how it sounded rolling off his pretty lips.

"i'm marc," he said, quietly, as if his name alone was too much information.

"marc," you repeated gently. like if you said it too loud, you'd break whatever spell you two were under. he loved how you said his name.

"well, I've just gotten off work, do you want to get coffee or a drink?" you offered, wanting to immediately get to know the man in front of you.

and before he could turn down the offer, he found himself saying "yeah, i'd like that." the hell was he thinking? he should just go get the milk and go home. forget you and that this had happened. but that felt impossible now. he doesn't think he'd ever forget you.

so before you both know it, you're walking side by side, going to get coffee, an easy silence falling over you as you walked together.

edit (bc I forgot my taglist):

taglist: @leoluved @howaboutcastiel @sir-knight-slytherdor

(if you'd like to be added to the taglist please let me know!)

#moon knight #jake lockley #moon boys #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight fluff #moon knight x you #mr knight #mr knight x reader #soulmate au #part one #my beloved moon boys #must protect them #angsty marc #jake is a big sap

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