hi! i’m lisa; mainly using that name as a cover name i don’t really like using my real name on some social media platforms. i’m seventeen she/her cancer, sagittarius and aries altogether.
favorite shows; percy jackson, umbrella academy, over the grass wall, adventure time, wednesday (don’t come for me i genuinely liked the show), gotham, outer banks, stranger things, lucifer, jane the virgin, bridgerton/queen charlotte.
favorite songs so far; no one knows by brent faiyaz, west coast by lana del rey, one night only by sonder, in this darkness and let you go both by clara la san, good looking by suki waterhouse.
least favorite things: raisins, sweaty skin to the point it’s sticky because of the lotion, when my nails chip after painting them, school when it’s gone on for too long with nothing to do.
tropes i love; enemies to lovers,
childhood friends,
age gap,
A GOOD SLOW BURN,
criminal and police (like the love interest is a criminal and the other tried to stop them but fell in love)
sunshine and grumpy
first love and second chance
celeb crushes:
kirk hammet
joseph quinn
keanu reeves
britain dolton
adam driver
oscar isaac
matthew gray gubbler
evan peters
bill skarsgård
mike faist
edward norton
james beaufort
javon walton
who is want to write on: art donaldson, five hargreeves, adam driver, oscar isaac, others—
"An Evening in the Gardens" - Daemon Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader
A/N: a request from @kimm4710 i hope you enjoy my love ❤️
Summary: Daemon grows jealous when you dance with another at a feast and makes his designs on you known.
TW: canon typical incest, profanity, innuendo, afab reader, she/her pronouns, p in v s*x, unprotected s*x, breeding k*nk, dom daemon, degradation kink
Word Count: 1,030 words
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
When you come to King’s Landing for your cousin Rhaenyra’s wedding feast, you’re not entirely surprised when the eligible bachelors of King’s Landing begin flocking to your side. As the eldest daughter of Lord Corlys Velaryon and Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, you stand to inherit Driftmark and its throne, making a marriage to you something very desirable in the eyes of the Westerosi nobility. You have to admit, it’s quite pleasant to have so many men practically falling at your feet during the festivities as you dance with lord after lord, enjoying yourself. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves with one notable exception.
Prince Daemon.
Ever since you came to King’s Landing from Driftmark for the festivities and he returned from fighting in the Stepstones, the two of you have been, in a word, involved. It’s difficult to put a name to it, because neither of you truly know what it is between you. From the moment you two saw each other, when you disembarked from your dragon, you were drawn to each other, passing every moment in each other’s company. While Daemon is affectionate with you, he’s never crossed that line to kiss you, to hold you as a man does a woman. Rather, it’s all kisses placed on your hand, your cheek, and secret moments in the Godswood that end a moment too soon.
But the moment he sees you dancing with Jason Lannister, all of that changes. Daemon has fire in his eyes as he crosses the floor to speak to you, looking almost as terrifying as Caraxes himself as far as Jason is concerned. Daemon’s nostrils flare as he glares down his nose at the Lannister lord, waiting for you to acknowledge him.
You turn and give him an easy smile, “Daemon.”
His voice is nearly a snarl as he says your name through gritted teeth, grabbing you by the hand and dragging you off toward the Godswood. You cover your mouth, barely holding back the laugh that threatens to burst forth from your lips. It seems your little plan to make him jealous worked after all. The two of you stand there in front of the Heart Tree, your hands behind your back as you gaze up at him with a deceptively innocent expression.
“What was that all about Daemon?” you ask, feigning ignorance.
Daemon growls, pointing a finger in your face, glaring down at you with those beautiful lilac eyes, “You know what that was all about.”
“No,” you shake your head, leaning against the trunk of the tree, sighing dramatically, “I think you’ll need to fill me in.”
He narrows his eyes at you, caging you in against the tree, one arm against either side of your head as he whispers lowly in your ear, “Oh, kelītsos, I know there’s something you want filled.”
You smirk to yourself as his lips capture yours in a heated kiss, one so intense that it leaves you moaning against his lips, grasping at his shirt, desperately pulling him closer. His kiss lights a fire inside your belly, making you want nothing more than for him to take you here and now. And Daemon knows it, judging by how he moves his hands down to your hips, lifting your skirts and bunching them at your sides as he frantically undoes his breeches. You let out a low moan at the sight of his cock, achingly hard because of you, for you.
“Do I even need to prepare you, kelītsos?” Daemon growls in your ear, “Or did making me jealous by dancing with all those men get your pretty little cunt wet already?”
You whimper at his words, unable to respond as pushes your underwear aside, two long, thick fingers swiping across your cunny, already embarrassingly wet for him. Daemon clicks his tongue, giving you a cocky, condescending little grin.
“Pathetic. All of that to get my attention?”
You bite down on your lip as he moves his fingers from you, moving to grasp at his cock, running it against you, chuckling at the way you whine, begging for him to just fuck you already. He’s going to, of course, he has no intention of leaving you wanting. But you just sound so pretty when you beg that he can’t help teasing you a bit more before finally pushing inside you, his long, thick cock filling you up to the brim, making you feel as though he’s splitting in half. You’re no stranger to pleasures of the flesh, having your own dalliances with a knight or two, but this is the first time you’ve taken someone as big as Daemon. All you can do is moan his name as he pins you against the tree, rutting against you like some sort of feral animal, his voice a low growl in your ear.
“I’m going to fuck you so well that your legs will ache tomorrow and you won’t be able to walk,” he hisses, “Going to pump you full of my seed, breed you, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” you whimper as he leans in toward you, his lips capturing yours again, that lone strand of hair that hangs over his forehead brushing against your face as he continues fucking you with abandon, “Want you to breed me.”
“I’m going to marry you, kelītsos,” he promises, “Going to fuck you every night before you go to bed and every morning when you wake. You want that, hm?”
“Gods, yes,” you cry out as you feel yourself squeezing around him, knowing you’re close to reaching your release, that coil in your stomach starting to tighten with every snap of his hips, “Daemon, please, I’m so close-”
“Then soak my cock, kitten,” he smirks, “I can feel you squeezing me like a vice. Let yourself go, little one.”
And when you do, it’s like a raging inferno of pleasure overtakes you, more intense than any climax you’ve ever felt before, Daemon spilling himself inside you soon after. And judging by the look on his face as he lifts your chin, forcing you to face him, basking in the afterglow of your shared pleasure, he’s nowhere near done with you tonight.
𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | a visit to gumshoe video could go one of two ways... but one way or another, you're gonna get him.
𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 | varies
𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | smut (18+ only), enemies to lovers, nothing too terrible just neil and reader bullying each other
this is a choose your own ending fic!! after the introduction, click to choose which way you want the story to go! each ending will have its own warnings section, so read those as well!
Technically, you always dressed well for work. Corporate jobs require professional attire, obviously; but you were slightly overdressed today, and it wasn’t to go into the office.
Tight skirt and matching blazer, a silky-satin button-up, black heels, and thigh-high stockings with a seam up the back. No, this wasn't how you dressed for a day in the office… this was how you dressed when you were closing a deal.
A little bell dinged as you walked into Gumshoe Video, and you looked around for a moment after you stepped inside: the decorations were… plentiful, and kitschy. The displays were so small, and just a quick glance at some of the shelves had you frowning in confusion. These are some seriously deep cuts… how do they make any money at this place?
Lucien came bounding up to you in an instant, hands pressed tight against his horribly out-of-fashion skinny jeans as if to hide that they were clammy already. "Do you, uh, need help finding anything?" he asked.
You offered him a pitying smile, about to offer him a friendly ‘no thanks, but’ and then tell him why you were really here… but you were interrupted.
Jonathan, who had taken a break from sipping on a soda behind the counter, coughed to get Lucien's attention as he quickly shook his head. He didn't seem to understand, though, looking back at you with his brows furrowed.
"Uh, ignore him,” Lucien laughed nervously. “Are you looking for a rental?"
"Dude, she's not here to get a movie!" Jonathan snapped. "Who dresses like that to pick up a tape?!"
"Maybe she's on her way to work!" Lucien returned sharply. "Or maybe she just came from somewhere!"
"Where?"
"My dreams!"
"No, your friend is right, I'm not here to pick up a movie," you admitted, and Lucien looked at you nervously.
"You, uh, don't like movies?" he wondered.
"I love them actually, but—"
The door to the office swung open, with Neil glaring at you from the other side of it. "You," he announced with disdain.
"—but I'm here to speak with the owner," you finished, tilting your head and grinning at Neil.
"We have nothing to speak about," Neil assured you as he walked towards you.
"We have multiple opportunities to discuss," you disagreed, "and my employers are very anxious that I deliver this message to you, so if we could please speak in your office—"
"Her employers? Is this chick in the mob?!" Lucien blurted out fearfully. "Neil, I know money's tight, but— oh fuck, was that 'small business loan' just a cover—"
"She's not from the mafia," Neil sighed. "They actually have some morals."
You extended a hand to introduce yourself to Lucien. After your name, you told him your job: "Head of Acquisitions, Media Giant, LLC."
Jonathan coughed again, poorly covering the sound of him saying "blood-sucking harpy" under his breath.
You smiled at him; "You really should get that cough checked out," you suggested pointedly.
“Whatever it is your puppet-masters want you to discuss with me,” Neil began, wiggling his fingers as if pantomiming a little marionette show, “you can take right over there into our women’s restrooms and shove directly up your ass.”
“Oh, that’s cute,” you smiled, “I bet you’ve been saving that one since our last little visit. Can we go to your office now?”
“No, you can’t go in there— we just had the priest come by and bless it, we wouldn’t want your feet to burn now, would we?” Neil snarked in return.
“Fine— get it out of your system,” you encouraged. “Say whatever’s been stuck in that pretty little head for the last month waiting for me to come back, and then we can have our meeting, alright?”
“I— well, uh—” Neil stalled, looking a little flustered as he suddenly leaned on a shelf of tapes with one hand. “You think I’m pretty?” he mumbled nervously, running his free hand through his hair— only to put a little too much weight on the shelf and nearly tilt it over, having to scramble to catch it and make sure it was balanced again.
“Dude, pull yourself together,” Jonathan snapped at him, and Neil glared at him before looking back at you.
“Fine, okay— we can have a very brief conversation in my office,” Neil offered with a sigh, motioning for you to follow him, “but it’s going to go the same way it did last time: with me telling you hell no and you having to do the walk of shame back to your headquarters.”
“Looking forward to it,” you smiled, waving goodbye to the other men before stepping into Neil’s office as he shut the door behind you.
You watched him step around you to sit at his desk, looking at you expectantly with his legs spread and his fingers interwoven in his lap.
“Am I allowed to ask why you’re dressed like a cowboy, by the way?” you asked with a raised eyebrow, and he frowned at you as he tossed aside the hat and slipped the poncho off over his head, leaving just a much more normal outfit of jeans and a button-up underneath.
“We’re running a special on Westerns,” he explained, “it’s fun, okay? Not that you would know fun if it smacked you on the ass and called you sweetcheeks.”
“Honey, that’s just what I call a Friday night,” you smirked as you stepped a little closer leaning against the side of his desk as he swallowed thickly. You couldn’t just sit across from him— you needed to keep the upper hand. “But I’m here for business. Let’s talk business, shall we?”
“Right, business,” he frowned. “I’m guessing your business here today is trying to buy my store, again?”
“Something like that,” you relented.
“You know, I guess I should take it as a compliment,” he grinned, leaning back further in the chair. “Clearly, you know I’m a threat.”
“Please,” you rolled your eyes, “we’re a Fortune 500 company, and you’re a guy wearing a poncho.”
“I took off the poncho!” he defended.
“So you’re… just a guy, then,” you corrected. “The point is, we’re not worried about you stealing our business at all. We just think this location is going to waste.”
“You want the real estate?” he realized.
“You’re in a perfect spot, you know,” you informed him, “you just need… a little more help utilizing it.”
He sneered at you sharply. “I don’t want anything from you.”
“You only hate me so much because you resent success,” you informed him with a sigh. “Just because you’re broke and proud doesn’t mean making money is a sin.”
“It is when you put making money above everything else,” he replied, “like creativity and community and the authentic customer experience—”
“How exactly does Media Giant conflict with those things?” you scoffed. “We’re a company founded on creativity— and we always foster community—”
“Spare me the doublespeak, Big Brother,” Neil scoffed, “you’re just a bunch of— of robots! Your whole company, it’s just full of people trying to make a quick buck, top to bottom: you think the people in the back at McDonald’s give a fuck about food? That’s what you are, the McDonald’s of the film industry. You’d probably let a monkey work there if it could wear a nametag and convince someone to rent Fast and Furious Fifty or whatever the fuck.”
“Fine,” you sighed, “let’s just say for a moment that you’re right. That my company is so terrible because we don’t employ people like you.”
He relaxed for a second, and you leaned in closer in hopes that he was really listening.
“This is your chance to fix that!” you explained. “You can save us from the inside out, you know. You can start from the bottom, be our best sales guy, and then it turns into a promotion and a raise and soon you’re climbing the corporate ladder— where you can make some real change.”
He shook his head, laughing a little. “That’s not actually possible, it’s just a fantasy you tell all your little minions to keep them compliant.”
“It’s what I did,” you shrugged.
“You?” he realized with a laugh. “You, in one of those navy vests and nametags, selling people tapes?”
“I’m sort of a cinephile,” you admitted. “I wanted a job where I could talk about movies all day— and thanks to me, that Media Giant location rented out more copies of The Seventh Seal than all the rest combined.”
He stood up quickly, stepping closer to where you sat on his desk. “Y-you like The Seventh Seal?”
“It’s a masterpiece,” you answered, speaking a little softer as he was so close, “Bergman is a genius.”
A strange look crossed over his face, a heavy-lidded sort of look as he examined you. “Tarantino?”
“Overrated, but not bad,” you replied quickly.
“Tarkovsky?”
“Good, but hard to watch.”
“Lynch?”
You scoffed; “Don’t insult me.”
He laughed a little, crossing his arms and looking away from you. “You could be one of the good ones,” he realized, “but you sold out. And now you’re just a suit.”
“It’s not so bad,” you smirked, “I think you’d like a little more… structure, given the chance.”
“And that’s what you’re offering?” he pressed, and you nodded.
“We’ll let you keep the name, your employees… most of the decoration,” you offered, “you’ll just be technically a Media Giant franchise. You have nothing to lose, and so much fucking money to gain.”
He sighed a little, looking at you again. You could tell he was considering it, but not very thoroughly. All you could do was hope for the best, and wait for an answer…
earth 42 miles morales x reader | miles morales x reader
───────────────────────────────
You and Miles met when you were toddlers. The two of you were neighbors, and would frequently draw in an alleyway just outside of Miles’ room with sidewalk chalk. The two of you got along better than you’ve gotten along with anyone else, remaining best friends throughout the years. If he wasn’t at your place, you were at his. You even managed to get into Brooklyn Visions Academy with him. You were a staple in the life of Miles Morales.
Until Gwen came along.
And now? It might be too late for him to ever remedy that. At least, in his dimension, that is…
dailybridgerton
prguitarman
snowghoul
pixelskylines
