#exotic flow

[rederiswrites]

It's been years since I started seeing nutrient flows constantly in my daily life, and the more I study agriculture, the more I see them.

See, every time you harvest something, you take the nutrients in that item away from the soil, and they go somewhere else. When I put a banana peel in my compost bin, I think (a little gleefully) about how I've just added an exotic, different profile of nutrients to my own property--but I also think about that distant banana plantation that lost tons of nutrients per year to US grocery stores, and I wonder what they replaced those nutrients with.

The farmer across my field grows corn, which gets harvested for feed. Corn is a nitrogen-hungry crop. Every year, that corn sucks up nutrients, which get harvested and shipped away. The farmer, being a conventional farmer, mostly replaces those with a conventional fertilizer. Nitrogen is often applied to fields in the form of ammonia fertilizer, which is made via a process that binds nitrogen in the air with hydrogen from natural gas. This feels like a vast resource, but of course we know it's not inexhaustible and not without cost.

Ideally, said farmer does soil tests and applies a carefully considered amount of ammonia. It is taken up by the growing plants and relatively little is lost. Possibly (often), though, some of the ammonia is leached out via rain and ends up in waterways, where it causes plant overgrowth and algal blooms, which harm the waterways in several ways, and turn those nutrients from a resource into a contaminant.

Meanwhile, the corn is also uptaking a variety of other nutrients from the soil which the commercial fertilizer is NOT replacing. Year by year, those nutrients get shipped off to distant feedlots and depleted in the soil. Eventually, those nutrients are gone from my neighbor's field and, quite possibly, languishing in a manure lagoon somewhere in, say, Indiana, where one can only hope it's properly treated and made into compost. But, you know. Not necessarily.

When I buy compost at the store, it's usually based in either cow manure or "forest products". Hopefully, depending on brand, those forest products MIGHT be collected municipal yard waste. Which is pretty good. Those suburbanites don't want their leaves, I do, win/win.

Except that because those suburbanites raked their yard waste, they now need at some point to fertilize their trees, shrubs, and turf grass. Meanwhile, they've eliminated habitat for the many insects that use leaf litter to either overwinter or reproduce. They may not be counting the costs, but the costs don't stop existing.

The ebb and flow of nutrients is something that, in the current system, goes utterly unregarded by most of the people taking part in the process. Even gardeners bring nutrients onto their soils mostly without thinking about the places those nutrients came from. I think in a sustainable world, that needs to change.

Also probably we need to do a hell of a lot more cover-cropping.

[ask-pacman]

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[satinestales]

❝programmed for pleasure❞ | qimir x fem!reader

pairing: qimir x fem!reader

summary: Your best friend Qimir always had your back, and that didn't change when the Jedi accused you of treachery. Without hesitation, Qimir helps you hide. After days of close quarters and constant danger, things get heated and secrets flow to the surface.

warnings: this is just filth, english is not my native language, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex (who needs it with him right), fingering, hints of mind control, reader finds out qimir's identity during the act, choking, cockwarming, degradating, praising, 5k+ words, not proofread

a/n: in ep2 when osha was pretending to be mae and qimir's mask dropped- so did my panties and i wish we could see what would happen if the jedi didnt barge in

also i apologise if this is not my best work my brain's rotting

now playing, fill the void by the weekend and lily rose depp

The sun blazed overhead, casting long shadows across the bustling market square. The air shimmered with heat, and the scent of exotic spices mixed with the dust kicked up by the steady flow of people. The cacophony of merchants hawking their wares and customers bartering for goods filled the air, creating a lively yet chaotic atmosphere. That's when you jumped in, covered in a heavy cloak, weaving through the crowd, moving with desperate urgency that contrasted sharply with the slow pace of the marketgoers.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, and sweat trickled down your temples, but you didn’t dare slow down. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing the fear that suffocated you.

You glanced over your shoulder, scanning for signs of your pursuers. There, in the distance, the unmistakable silhouettes of Jedi Knights moved with an unerring determination, their robes flowing like liquid shadows. Panic surged within you, propelling you forward even faster.

You stumbled into a fruit vendor, nearly toppling the cart, and barely registering the vulgar complaint thrown at you, only focused on your desired destination.

Ahead, through the throng of people, you spotted the familiar sign of your friend’s shop. It was a small, unassuming place, nestled between two larger establishments, almost easy to miss if you didn't know what to look for. You aimed yourself toward it like a ship setting course for a distant star, your legs burning from the exertion.

Another quick glance back showed the Jedi gaining ground, their calm, composed faces a stark contrast to your own panic. You had to reach the shop; you had to get to safety. With a final burst of energy, you pushed through a group of curious onlookers, thrusting them to the ground, and practically threw yourself against the door of the shop.

It swung open with a jingle of bells as you tumbled inside, the cool air a welcome relief against the overheating streets. You slammed the door shut behind you, the noise causing your friend, Qimir, to look up from behind the counter, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Hey, what are you—"

"Shush," you panted, leaning heavily against the door, trying to catch your breath, scanning any sign of the Jedi through the glass door. "I need to hide."

“What is going on?” Qimir appeared right behind you, his face a mix of concern and curiosity. He motioned for you to follow him. This wasn’t the first time you had begged Qimir to help you, and many times you had promised to pay him back, but you never did. You tried to calm yourself as you followed him to the back of the shop where the infamous hidden trapdoor was placed.

“I owe you,” you breathed out, looking up at Qimir before you kneeled down to get in, climbing your way into a narrow space, the darkness of the room slowly enveloping you.

“You always do,” he murmured to himself before he closed the door, leaving you alone in the pitch-black darkness. You’d been here many times, so it wasn’t difficult finding a certain switch, turning on the lights that partially blinded you. As you quickly got used to them, your other senses heightened, hearing Qimir making his way back to the front of the shop above your head.

You pressed yourself against the cool earth, willing your racing heart to calm. Above, you could hear the faint murmur of voices, the unmistakable timbre of the Jedi questioning. You held your breath, every muscle in your body tense, praying that your hiding place would remain undiscovered.

You calmed yourself, putting your hand on your chest where your heart would be, carefully listening to the conversation above you.

“Have you seen a cloaked figure running by this shop? We saw them run this way; do not bother us with lies,” came Yord’s unmistakable voice. You had never liked him, even as a youngling or a Padawan. He finished his trials sooner than you and felt the need to remind you every second. Today was the last day you decided to respect it.

“I think I saw someone pass by, but I didn’t see their face or where they were going,” you heard Qimir lie to the Jedi, protecting you again. You never grasped how he could lie to the Jedi and not get caught. You always suspected he was Force-sensitive and accidentally blocked everyone out of his mind, but that theory vanished quickly when he once face-planted on the ground after you woke him from his peaceful sleep. Maybe he was just a good liar.

Minutes felt like hours, but eventually, you heard the Jedi grow quiet, leaving the shop. You allowed yourself a tentative sigh of relief, knowing that you had narrowly escaped capture. For now, you were safe, as long as you stayed with Qimir.

It didn’t take long for Qimir to come back for you, opening the trapdoor to get you out. You climbed fast, jumping at him, almost crushing him with your suffocating hug.

“I’d like an elaboration on this one,” he declared into your ear, waiting for you to let go of the hug but returning it with slight pressure. “Weren’t you supposed to be in the Outer Rim? That’s where your Master sent you.” You let him go, running your fingers through his hair, making a big mess on his head. He let out an annoyed scuff, furrowing his eyebrows, but his smile betrayed him.

“Hmm,” you whispered, turning back to him to walk to the door and shut down the blinds. The Jedi might have been gone, but you weren’t sure. “I was already there. Mission accomplished.” You replied with excitement as you threw away your cloak on the counter, turning in a circle back to Qimir. His expression was to die for.

“Wait,” he picked up his hand as if to stop you from coming closer to him. You stopped your movements, a cheerful smile playing on your lips. “You killed Kelnacca, without a weapon, and managed to come back and do whatever you did for the Jedi to hunt you down?” He didn’t trust you at all, and it was painfully obvious. He circled around you to block your way, even if you had no intention of going outside and leaned against the counter.

“I killed Kelnacca without a weapon, came back here, and killed Torbin.” You smiled, hoping for Qimir to cheer up too, for he was the one always believing in you and your Master’s missions for you. “That’s why they chased me; they found out. But it’s done. I did it.” You couldn’t help but jump towards him, looking up at him as he stared you down.

“You killed them both without a weapon?” he repeated his question, scanning your figure up and down, like he was trying to figure out if you’re joking or serious. Your smile dropped, as you realized he was more of a puppet to your master than your friend. You liked Qimir, but there were times when you didn’t know what he was thinking or where he was going on random days.

You scuffed to yourself, annoyed but understanding in some way. You weren’t always the best apprentice, but you earned it. You earned your place as his pupil and hoped, one day, your master would show his face to you.

“Is this what you want?” you asked, irritated, throwing a tied bag on the counter, right next to Qimir’s hands. He was hesitant but opened the sack, revealing two Jedi lightsabers: Kelnacca’s and Torbin’s. “I could have brought their heads, but that would defeat the purpose.” You added, frustration obvious in your tone. You were so excited to tell Qimir, your friend, about the great news and were immediately let down by his reaction. You hoped he’d be happy for you, finally safe from your Master as you satisfied him with your work.

"Sorry, just shocked," he let out a small chuckle before closing the bag again and leaving it on the counter. "He'll be so pleased with you," he turned to you, a wide smile on his lips. The drastic changes in his mood always scared you, but now you were simply happy you could share the happy news with him.

“Of course I’m proud of you too,” Qimir added, coming towards you to pull you into another hug, this one warmer and more reassuring. You hesitatingly wrapped your arms around him, melting in his embrace. However small and skinny he looked behind his untidy clothes, whenever he hugged you, you almost disappeared between his arms.

“Now who’s gonna tell him?” you muttered into his shoulder before he let go of you, his hands leaving your back seconds later. You were so happy about your success that you never thought of informing your master. Even though you passed his test, you were still nervous about talking to him. His mask was scary enough for you, and his quiet mannerisms were even worse. You could never read what he was thinking, what he was planning next, or what he might be contemplating doing to you. If Qimir volunteered to inform him, you wouldn’t protest.

“Well, you should,” he stated to your bad luck. “I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.” He smiled before going behind the counter to search for something on the lower shelf. You had to snort at his choice of words.

“Please,” you chuckled. “My Master? Thrilled?” You came behind Qimir, observing as his long fingers grasped a small glass of orange drink and set it on the table. “I don’t think he’s ever shown any emotions besides boredom and anger.”

“That’s because he’s wearing a mask,” Qimir pointed out, pouring the orange fluid into two separate small glasses. “Maybe he’s smiling behind it.” You admired Qimir’s delusion.

“I bet,” you started, waiting impatiently for Qimir to finish pouring the drinks, “he’s actually planning my demise behind that mask.”

Qimir handed you a glass, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Or he’s planning your next big test, which he’ll pretend doesn’t impress him but secretly makes him proud.”

You raised your glass to his, a smirk forming on your lips. “To surviving another day and confusing my Master,” you toasted.

Qimir clinked his glass against yours. “To more victories and shared secrets.”

As you took a sip, the cool, sweet liquid refreshing your parched throat, you felt a wave of gratitude wash over you. Despite the looming threat of your master’s reaction, Qimir’s unwavering support made you feel like you could handle anything. With a deep breath, you set your glass down and looked at him, determination shining in your eyes.

“Alright,” you said, your voice steady. “I’ll tell him. But if he decides to execute me, I’m holding you responsible.”

Qimir laughed, a sound that felt like a balm to your frayed nerves. “Deal. But I have a feeling you’ll come out of this stronger than ever.”

“Let’s hope,” you sighed, leaning against the counter on your elbows, letting Qimir’s eyes wash over you. “Also, he has to be hiding something.”

“What do you mean?” Qimir asked, a confused expression on his face as he put his already empty glass down.

“What if he’s deformed under the mask?” you let out, your face scrunching at the thought. “Or what if he’s just ugly?” You stared at nothing, not paying any attention to the words you were saying.

Qimir’s eyebrows twitched with amusement as he scanned you carefully. “You haven’t seen his face yet?” he asked, noticing how you played with your ring between your fingers as you stared down at the ground.

“You know I haven’t,” you replied with an annoyed sigh. “Look, I made peace with it, but I’m still curious about what he looks like. I want to know who’s teaching me all these things.” You complained, pushing yourself away from the counter, your eyes glancing at the black curtains over the window.

Qimir leaned back, crossing his arms with a thoughtful look. “I get it. It’s human nature to want to see the face behind the mask. But maybe it’s more about what he’s teaching you than what he looks like.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, shaking your head. “Leave it to you to find the deeper meaning. I just want to make sure I’m not taking orders from someone who might be scarier without the mask.”

Qimir chuckled, stepping closer. “You’ve faced Jedi Knights, completed impossible missions, and survived under his training. Whatever he looks like under that mask, you’ve proven you’re stronger than any fear or curiosity.”

His words settled over you like a comforting blanket, and you felt a bit of the tension ease from your shoulders. “You always know what to say, don’t you?” you turned back to face him, a genuine smile on your lips. Lately, you had noticed the way he looked at you. How his eyes darkened when he thought you weren’t watching. How his arms twitched your way when you walked past him and his intense gaze during your conversations. Like now.

Qimir was your friend, supplier, and occasional therapist. You could always vent to him about your Master, and he listened carefully. Many times, you slept over in his shop, passing out on the floor, exhausted from your tests and missions. You couldn’t count how many times you bled out in front of him and woke up the next day with your wounds bound and healed. You knew Qimir had his own secrets that he wasn’t confident in sharing with you, but some things kept you awake at night, wondering.

Despite his poor hygiene and greasy hair that framed his face in an unflattering way, you found him magnetic and charismatic. Something about him pulled you closer, and you didn’t know what. Between the nightmares and horrors, you were a victim to in your dreams, Qimir showed up to comfort you many times. You were embarrassed every time you woke from them, but the images never left your mind. And whenever you saw him after, you deep down wished they would become true.

Two days have passed since then, yet his intense gaze still lingered in your mind. He let you use his shop as your personal sanctuary, a hidden refuge from the Jedi that didn’t stop searching for you. Each day, you watched them through the window. Three times they've marched past, and twice they've entered, repeating the same questions, their eyes scanning for any sign of you.

Qimir once suggested you could leave the planet, but you quickly dismissed the idea. The Jedi now controlled who could leave or enter the exosphere. You regretted not hiding Torbin’s body, leaving him there to rot. Anger had taken over. You wanted the Jedi to find him. You wanted to shove it in their faces.

The days began to stretch into what felt like weeks, with only the tension between you and Qimir keeping you alert, even though it made time drag. The first night when you jumped out of the shower and had to borrow his clothes, you didn’t miss the way his eyes flew to your legs that the towel didn’t fully cover. Or when you tied your hair into a braid, his gaze never wavered. You didn't mind being observed, but with Qimir, it was different. His gaze made your stomach flip, and you couldn’t decide if in a good or bad way. His touch made you shiver, his presence alone made your skin burn. The only relief was that he wasn’t sensitive to the Force. If he knew what you thought every time you saw his hands or brushed against him, you’d want to drown yourself.

A few hours after you hid in his shop and got drunk together, you both decided it would be fun to practice some moves and fighting techniques, without lightsabers. Minutes later, you found yourself straddling Qimir’s lap, pinning his hands above his head. You knew he could easily turn the tables and have his way with you, but he didn't move a muscle. Instead, he laid there, letting you crush his lap as he circled your face. You remembered it vividly: how his breath tickled you, how his lips were so close that moving an inch would ruin your carefully built friendship. You were grateful for the self-control classes your Master put you through.

Now you were seated on the floor, leaning against the cold surface of the counter, staring out the window. The black curtains were no obstacle to you. You heard Qimir coming out of the shower; he didn’t want to smell like the gasoline you accidentally spilled on him. You held a glass of some beverage Qimir had prepared, both of you slowly getting dizzy from boredom and drinks. Resting your head against the table, you closed your eyes and saw Qimir through the Force. He was still in his small, cozy bathroom, drying himself with a towel. His hair was wet but looked better than it had a few days ago. His back muscles flexed as he raised his arms to dry his hair. You hadn't realized he was so fit under his clothes, and it made you squirm in your seat.

You knew you shouldn’t be spying on him like this, but the only time you had seen him like this was in your dreams, and reality was far more enticing. Your thoughts grew louder with each passing second, one screaming over another.

He was your friend and also worked for your Master. It would be wrong. You knew the consequences it could have on your relationship with Qimir, and you didn’t want to risk it. But the way he looked at you, the way his proximity made you feel, and the thought of his body against yours drove you crazy.

Your Master wasn’t against you having lovers and fulfilling your desires, as long as you stayed loyal to him. But you weren’t sure how he would feel if his two subjects started something together.

“You alright?” Qimir’s voice woke you from your thoughts as he stood in front of you. Only in his pants. You looked up at him, trying to contain your craving as you checked him up. Droplets still falling down his chest as he leaned against the other shelf, looking down at you from dangerous vicinity.

You almost choked on air, forcing yourself to look away.

“Yeah,” you choked on your words, lifting the glass to take a sip of your untouched brew. “Why you ask?” you forced a smile, missing his still wet, glossy chest to get to his face. Your heart dropped as you met with his prolonged stare. Half-lidded dark eyes staring right at you, his silhouette towering over you as he took a step closer, throwing the towel he was holding on the table.

“You staring into distance kind of scared me.” He chuckled, tilting his head as he leaned against the counter, you almost broke your neck looking up at him. He was right above you.

His hand was placed right above his pants that got to caress his thighs first. His skin was clean and wet, scars decorating his abs. His muscular chest was uncovered, free for you to admire. When he spoke to you his voice was low and raspy, different from the one he usually used. Your heart fluttered as you noticed his eyes wondering around you as he awaited your response.

You had to move, you thought to yourself. Pushing yourself against the floor you lifted yourself to your legs, the drink in your hand spilling as your hand twitched from almost falling into Qimir’s arms. You could feel the warmth radiating of off him and smell the shower gel he used. His hair was dripping wet, droplets adoring his sharp collarbones. His nipples were hard from the chilly temperature in the shop, his forearm big and large, holding his body above the table.

“Just, concentrating.” You coughed, putting the glass on the counter. “So,” you woke yourself from your dreaming, turning away from him, trying hard not to stumble. The drinking wasn’t as bad as Qimir’s half naked figure centimeters away from you. You felt faint and your thoughts only got worse, like somebody was putting them in. You felt a pressure, but you were convinced you were doing it to yourself subconsciously.

“Is everything okay?” You heard Qimir asked again behind you, feeling him walk towards you. You could feel his hands lifting, so when you turned back to face him, they brushed against your stomach. You had to fight back a moan.

“Just, the Jedi thing.” You smiled, hoping you were convincing enough, and he wouldn’t suspect even the theme of your thoughts. Resting your hip against the table and crossing your arms against your chest, you put a leisure expression on your face, as your mind raced with images. “It’s stressing me out.” You unnecessary added, trying to stare anywhere but his face or his arms or his exposed chest. He had to be cold.

“It’ll pass in a few days.” He smirked, lifting his arm to rest it against your shoulder. The cold skin made you gasp but not as much as his dark eyes.

“I just don’t want to bother you here for days.” You tried to convince yourself. “You surely have things to do, and my Master will be waiting for the news. I’ll go after sundown.” You didn’t wanna go but you had to inform your Master and the air between you and Qimir started to be intoxicating if you didn’t do anything.

“I’m sure he already knows.” He cocked his head, pulling his arm away but leaving his fingers to tickle your skin.

“You told him?” you wondered, pushing your thighs together as a small smirk appeared on his smile.

Fuck.

“No,” he denied, his eyes leaving yours, to trace them down your body. “But I’m sure he knows. Maybe he wants you to relax for a while.” He implied. You dropped your gaze from his eyes to his lips, your core slowly heating up.

“I would rather still be sure,” you swallowed your saliva, your voice breaking, his body dangerously close to yours. “Aren’t you cold?” you let out, embarrassment washing over you. He let out a chuckle when he saw your hand awkwardly pointing at his bare chest.

“Not really,” he replied, scanning your expression. He knew you were nervous; he knew your legs were about to give up and how you struggled to pretend to breathe normally. He enjoyed every second of it.

“Good, good.” You uttered, nodding along. “As long as you’re comfortable.” You wanted to fall into some deep hole and never come out.

��Are you comfortable?” he purred, closing the space between you two, his hand lifting to your face but not actually touching you. Just hanging there, below your jaw, right next to your neck.

“Why, why wouldn’t I be.” You stumbled over your words, his eyes burning your skin open. You felt his breath against your face, his curtain bangs brushing over your forehead. His feet met with yours, his chest in front of your face.

“You don’t look the best.” He whispered, leaning in, his lips now touching your ears, sending shivers down your spine. You moved your hand to the counter next to you, praying and holding yourself for dear life. “I think you need to relax.” He teased against your ear, slowly moving to your neck.

“I think I should get ready to go.” You panted, but not moving a muscle. His one hand moved right next to yours on the table, fingertips touching yours. You were so frozen by his lips tickling your neck, you inhaled sharply when you felt his hand sneak behind your waist to pull you against him. Your hands automatically pressed against his chest, closing your eyes.

“If you want,” he rasped, lifting himself to face you. You couldn’t recognize him. His eyes were pitch-black dark, animalistic look set in them. His lips were full and pink, not a sign of the Qimir that you talked to few minutes ago. You were breathless, your heart pounding heart against your ribs.

“Do you want to go?” he whispered, carnal lust in his gaze staring right back at you. You felt the wetness between your legs growing stronger with every passing second. “Do you want me to let you go?”

“No.” you answered so fast you felt ashamed. But what followed fulfilled all your dreams and more.

All the useless items and glasses on table thrown on the floor without any of you touching them, to make a room for you as Qimir lifted you up on the counter. You shakily brought your hands into his hair as he dived into your lips, imitating sex. His hands groped your breasts, fondling them and pinching your nipples through the thin fabric of your borrowed blouse.

You felt his hand abandon your face, making its way between your legs, feeling your wetness through the pants. You were soaked. You didn’t miss the smile on his lips when his fingers pushed against your core, feeling how wet and useless you were for him.

You whimpered against his mouth when he pulled away, resting against your forehead as you breathed each other air.

“For how long you were this wet?” he smirked against your lips, his fingers putting pressure against your pants making you gasp. He knew the answer, he knew exactly what you liked and where you liked it. But he wanted to hear it coming from your mouth.

“Since I first saw you,” you muttered, rolling your hips against his fingers for more friction. As soon as you made that movement, he pulled his fingers away to shoved them inside your mouth. You didn’t protest and without hesitation started to circle your tongue around them. His fingers were thick and long, making you choke when he moved them deeper.

“Such a fucking slut.” He growled, his legs spreading yours apart. Your heart fluttered at his words and confirming its statement when you let out a moan, from his fingers sneaking its way under your pants and panties to find your burning clit. You threw your head back, as your back arched, wanting to feel more of his touch.

Qimir watched you with satisfaction spread on his face as he felt you getting wetter and wetter, your body responding to his digits. He continued teasing your clit, rubbing it in circles as his other hand squeezed your breast roughly.

“You want it that bad?” he murmured, his voice raspy and electrifying. He chuckled at your failed attempt to respond, inserting his finger into your soaked hole. He pumped it slow and deep, reveling in your reaction. “No worries now.” He taunted.

Qimir couldn’t keep the smirk off his face as he watched you squirm and moan. He relished the power he had over you, keeping you in the dark and letting you believe you weren't being humiliated in front of your Master. He added another finger, scissoring them to stretch you for his cock.

“Let me hear you beg for it,” His eyes gleamed with lust as he towered over you, plunging his fingers deeper inside of your cunt. He curled his fingers inside you, rubbing your g-spot as he pumped them faster. “I want to hear you plead for my cock.”

You had no idea Qimir had this in him, but you were so dizzy because of his fingers fucking you hard, you had no strength to focus on anything else.

“Please Qim-“you shivered, eyes rolling back in your head. “Please I need you inside me.” Your breath hitched, his fingers curling and spreading your cunt.

“Atta girl.” He whispered to himself before pulling his fingers out of you, receiving a vulgar insult thrown at him. He relished in seeing you like this. He dreamed of this every day, wanting you, his pupil, spread open in front of him, letting him take you however he wanted. You were his and he was gonna make sure you understood what exactly that meant.

He smirked mischievously before leaning forward to kiss you deeply, wrapping his arms around you tightly. “Once I start, complain all you want, I’m not gonna stop.” He whispered against your lips before breaking away and looking deep into your eyes. He was a totally different man and it made you shiver throughout all your body. Even his energy changed, letting it wrap around you in the Force.

Qimir startled you when his hands landed on your chest, pushing you back so you’d lay open on the counter, legs spread open for him to take. Smiling excitedly, he grabbed your hips and move you closer to the edge of the table, before slowly unbuckling his pants.

“You ready?” he asked, licking his lips before pulling his cock out, already covered in pre-cum. He looked so beautiful above you, his hips so close to yours, his hair falling into his face and his chest raising as fast as yours. You looked a mess, but you were his mess and he wanted to devour you.

Nodding, you made yourself comfortable on the table, its cold surface making you shiver.

Smirking, he positioned his dick at your entrance and slowly thrust himself inside, making sure to stretch you nice and slow, taking his time to make the moment last. He bit back a moan, looking down at you lovingly as you struggled to keep your eyes open and not pass out at his thick cock filling you up.

“You’re doing great so far for me.” He grinned, before pulling out and slamming back in, his movements becoming faster and rougher. You forced yourself to grab the ends of the table to hold yourself in place, Qimir’s grip on your hips being nothing compared to the way he was treating your pussy.

His thrusts became harder, loving the way your walls wrapped around his cock, squeezing him tightly with each thrust.

“You’re finally getting what you dreamed of,” he groaned, lifting your hips to drive his cock deeper before pounding away. “Getting fucked by your Master.”

You cried out when his cock brushed against your sweet spot, not realizing the meaning of his words until seconds later.

“What,” you tried to lift your head up, but the way his grip tightened on your waist to fuck you harder had you failing to catch your breath. Your heart started to pound faster as the realization hits.

He saw your expression change but your body kept replying to his merciless thrusts. His hand moved from your waist to reach for your head, lifting you up, face to face. His forehead was covered in sweat, his long hair curling around his ears.

“You did so well on your last mission, I had to reward you.” He panted, not stopping his assault on your cunt. He read the conflict in your mind, letting you come to your own conclusion.

“You’re,” you trembled, his cock spreading your walls so good you had trouble to even consider the words he was saying, denying yourself.

“You’re such a good apprentice but such a slut now,” he mocked you, his hand moving from your hair to your neck, putting in pressure. “I wished you realized sooner tho. We could’ve had this every little visit of yours.” You cried out as his hand fully wrapped around your neck, his cock never stopping filling your cunt.

“Master, I don’t understand,” you managed to breathe out, feeling his cock start twitching inside your walls. You heard him groan, right next to your ear, at the feeling of your tight hole gripping him. He started to thrust harder, feeling the friction build up.

Resting your foreheads against each other and swallowing each other’s moans, had the both of you sweat, the room picking up your scents.

Qimir reached down, rubbing your clit as he continued to fuck you hard. He could feel the tension building inside of you and knew you were close.

“Cum for me, love.” He growled, his hand never leaving your neck and pulling you closer to him. “Cum for your Master.” He hitched, picking up the pace, slamming into you as hard as he could. He could feel his own orgasm approaching.

His grip on your throat tightened as he fucked you harder and faster, slowly losing control of his strength. He could see the look of pure ecstasy on your face as he pounded into you and squeezed your throat harder. Your hand automatically few to his hand that held you, struggling to breathe but not enough to make you pass out.

“You belong to me,” his voice broke, letting you know he was getting closer and closer to losing it. “You’re mine.” He whimpered into your ear, his hips bucking wildly, driving his cock deep inside of you as he came, filling you up, marking you as his. His paced slowed down to match yours, wanting to feel you cum around him, your walls almost crushing him.

Qimir didn’t move and kept his cock inside you, letting himself and you calm down and try to catch your breath. As you regain your composure, your head against Qimir’s chest, your mind almost exploded with the overwhelming thoughts.

I fucked Qimir.

I fucked my Master.

Qimir was my Master all along.

You wanted to run away, hide yourself and never come out, but Qimir’s, your Master’s arms wrapped around you and your pussy still keeping his cock warm, had you melting, not wanting to move an inch. You were confused, terrified, and thrilled all at the same time. All the times when Qimir disappeared without explanation, all the time he lied to the Jedi or did things only Force sensitive beings could achieve. It all made sense now and clicked together like a puzzle.

But you also realized he had the power to read your thought all along. He could see the impure images, the ideas, and pictures you had in your mind. Your complains and desires. Your fear. But that didn’t matter anymore. You let your Master used you, like the good apprentice you were. You had no idea what would happen now, your heart wanting to jump out of your chest, your skin covered in goosebumps. You were scared but the desire was stronger. And if Qimir ever taught you something was to transform those emotions into power. And you had enough desire to annihilate the entire Jedi order, with Qimir by your side.

[theblacklewinsky]

Note: this masterpiece being on repeat made me like this 😵‍💫

HOUSTON'S BEST. | Aaron Pierre

Terry Richmond x Black! Female Stripper Reader.

Warnings: MDNI!! this story is 18+ with depictions but not limited to; sexual content ( oral sex, (male receiving) penetrat!on (unprotected p in v, don't do that!), breath play, water sports, slapping/hitting, degradation), extreme language (cursing, use of b-word and others.) slight daddy kink if you squint. Not proofread.

Summary: in which Terry meets an exotic dancer during his deployment and recounts their heated sexual relationship.

you used to strip out of east Atlanta,

probably where you learned all your talents.

He never knew her real name, or anything that was actually concrete to her, but he did know how his hazel eyes stayed trained on the exotic dancer in front of him the first time he saw her, the strobe lights made it a bit impossible to focus in on her face—as well as her many tricks and whirls around the pole. But her silhouette was perfect, and with a body as perfect as hers he was sure her face had to be a perfect match.

That wasn't his usual scene though, he'd been nearly forced there with his homeboys. Due to his recent breakup at the time, and a dreary deployment, his friends swore he needed a night of fun. And obviously their idea of a night of fun, was six deep in an east Atlanta strip club. He didn't usually spend his pastimes in Atlanta strip clubs, blowing his last dollars on a half-dressed woman, but if every stripper was enchanting as this one, he understood.

They introduced her as Houston, something he only understood when he found himself at her apartment. Only a few blocks away, from the club she worked at four nights a week, the other three days were supposedly spent in trade school where she was training to be a dental hygienist.

Not to mention, her face definitely did match her body.

Terry was unsure of how he made it to her quaint apartment the first time. He remembered how she sauntered over to the bar sometime after her set, she sported an oversized jogging suit, her low, brown eyes seemed to stare right through him, her smile was sinful. Everything about her screamed, trouble.

Anyway, even with a couple of shots flowing through him he was sober enough to hear the country edge to her voice—soft, elongated vowels, with that slight drawl that captivated him with each word. For a man who'd been deployed in and out of the states, he knew a Houston accent from anywhere, he'd spent four years there after all. That's where her stage name came from.

She'd never volunteered her real name, and always seemed hesitant when he asked about it. Obviously there was things she was keeping secret from this arrangement, and even three months deep into this said arrangement, she was still just Houston.

Terry never knew how they advanced to sex so quickly, the first time. Maybe it was the amount of alcohol in his system that night, maybe it was how naturally bold Houston was. Maybe it was because she kept casually sitting on his lap, complimenting him. Looking at him with those low, seductive eyes.

But it wasn't the first time anymore. Or the second. Or the third, and that was because Houston kept him coming back. She was a needed stress reliever. She knew what she was doing.

Houston knew exactly what she was doing though. And she was best at the shit too. The art of seduction through her dance—had nothing on her art of seduction in the bedroom. She would stare at him through her long lashes and low eyes, when she had him halfway back in the back of her throat. Coughing, gagging, eyes watery and red, but she still managed to hold that mockingly innocent gaze with him. Her hands nuzzled in the thin material of the strip lingerie she wore for him, vigorously rubbing away at her hard clit. Pleasing him, pleased her—and all that shit pleased him.

"Fuuuuckkk," he'd grunt, his eyes threatening to flutter closed as she fucked her own throat on his dick, almost like she was eager to taste all of him, her tongue swiping the underside of his dick as she eagerly took all of him. Her almost violent gagging and choking seemed to not deter her in the slightest, and it definitely hadn't deterred him either. Both his hands cradling the back of her head as he fucked himself into her throat, his own brows furrowed, lips parted as his grunts and groans seemed to follow one after another, eyes boring into hers. The feeling of the tightness of her throat, around him was unmatched. The way she did this shit like she had no regard for him was unmatched. Breathing clearly didn't matter to Houston. The hardwood flooring underneath them had collected a puddle of the saliva that seemed to pool out of her mouth and off of him, in the process.

"Fuckkk, imma nut! Imma nut, bae—jus' like that!" He rushed out, breathless and slurred. His hips stilling, but she never stopped taking him in, fucking her own throat once again, she looked up at him. His own eyes, slowly falling closed as she kept up her volatile movements.

"Mhm," she hummed on his dick, her blurred vision taking him in earnestly, her own fingers slipping inside her hole once again as she watched his facial expressions hungrily, as she brung him over the edge. The loud, groans queuing her to his orgasm, she pulled back from him with a loud pop. A growing smile on her lips as she stroked him off over her face, the warm ropes of cum painting her face just as she liked. What a messy girl she was, indeed.

She was the best at that shit.

But then again, she was the best at everything. She was definitely the best at doggystyle. Her face pressed into the cushioning of her sofa, his fingers squeezing and kneading the meaty flesh of her hips as she sat on her knees, ass perfectly arched up for him. Tip pressing against the spongy spot that caused the slight trembling in her thighs, and those deep gasping breaths to leave her mouth. Her hands flying up to the arm of the couch to gain leverage to slam back against him, her ass ricocheting off his pelvis with loud plaps. He'd run his thumb over the small butterfly tattoo etched into the skin right on the top of her ass.

"Don't run," he'd coach firmly, his voice stern hands growing tighter around her waist, his knees following hers, a harsh slap to her ass following his words, "don't fuckin' run. I can't get in that shit?" He'd ask over her whimpers.

"Yesssss," she'd slut out loudly, his stern voice and harsh slaps always put her back into motion, taking it like he knew she could.

"Right there, right there, right there!" She'd urgently call out, voice shaky and strained. "Right there, baby! I'm bout to cum, daddy!" Her whimpered voice muffled by Terry pushing her face down into the cushions, his focus solely on hitting against the spot, she repeatedly referred to.

"Where it's at?" He'd mutter, the lingerie of her little strip tease outfit now bunched around her waist, in his grasp as he used it as more leverage to thrust into her. "Where it's at, baby?" He'd ask again when he received no proper response from her, just her inaudible babbling and squealing moans.

"It's right there, daddy!"

"Give it to me then," he coolly replied hand roughly slapping at against her reddening brown skin, "give that shit to daddy, paint my dick. Lemme see it," he'd coax her orgasm right out of her, with her erratic breathing and faltering limbs.

Houston was also the best at missionary. And she didn't even have to do anything in this position, she just always looked so pretty and dazed. Mouth agape, eyes soft and low, darting back and forth between Terry's gaze, and his dick slipping in and out of her slick pussy. Her loud guttural moans would follow behind Terry's soft groans, his hands placed steadily on the back on her thighs, his knees allowing him to steadily drop dick in her. Her walls squeezing around him tighter and breathing hindering, every time he went just a little too deep.

She always looked too good in this position. His hands clamped tightly around her neck, he'd watch the color in her face tint to red. "You wanna breathe don't you? Yeah? Squirt on my dick then, show me how bad you wanna breathe. Show me that shit." He'd taunt, his dick roughly plowing into her, he'd watch with complete adoration as her eyes rolled back, her chest heaving, no sound leaving her lips but he strained breathing as he neared her orgasm. No sound would alert him, just her juices spurting out of her wildly, drenching her lower tummy and thighs, as well as his.

Or maybe she was the best at riding. Balancing her weight on the tips of her toes, her hands fisting the top of the couch on either side of him, strings of sticky arousal from her pussy connected the two, as she milked him up and down with loud sticky plaps. His thumbs and pointer fingers tweaking with her pierced, sensitive mounds. Pulling and pinching at her nipples as he muttered, lewd phrases and exploitative words against the flesh of her neck.

"You gon nut?" He'd ask her at the same time. Watching her nod eagerly over a series of moans. He'd slap against her cheek firmly, not quite satisfied with her non-verbal response. "You gon nut?" He'd ask again.

"Yesss!" She'd cry out, nodding vigorously, big brown eyes brimming with tears, the tightness in her belly threatening to burst open.

"Nah you ain't," he'd reply, eyes staring into hers so casually as if he wasn't having her plow herself onto his dick for his pleasure, "you been cummin' all night. It's my turn."

"Look at you fuckin' yourself on my dick," he tsk'd, his hand coming up once again to firmly slap against her cheek, "you ain't gon tell nobody about this right? Bout how you bein' such a lil easy bitch on my dick, makin' a mess. You ain't gon tell nobody?"

"No, daddy!" She'd stammer out through hindered breaths and broken moans. Her eyes slowly falling open as she continue to fuck herself on his dick, he was making her edge herself, and the shit felt torturous.

"Jus' like that, baby," he'd praise, hands dropping to knead both her ass cheeks as she rode him, "make me nut. Make me nut in this pussy." Hand leaving a series of hard echoing snacks there, until he came deep inside her.

Houston knew exactly what she was doing.

Hope you enjoyed, Houston! <3

tag list: @avoidthings @megamindsecretlair @nickidub718 @keehendrixx @planetblaque @blowmymbackout @b2hotty @partypoison00 @grooveoftiro @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @dxddykenn @motheroffae @kaylaahisthebestest- @hello-therree

[aweina]

Could I request the reverse of your ‘when you catch them staring’ headcannons? And with a lot of teasing from the reader too?

୨୧. heart eyes — mortal kombat one. kameos : sub-zero. scorpion. smoke + johnny cage & raiden

when you catch them staring at you.

bi-han tries to make his staring unnoticeable. with his silver mask blocking away any emotions that he could display, his eyes have become naturally expressive over time. they gleam whenever you pass by him, a foreign softness to them. the permanent scowl is less intense when he takes a moment to memorize details of your face. your eyes captivated him the most — a whirl of emotions so deep set into your irises. he could stare at them for hours on end.

it’s when you asked bi-han to revise tomorrow’s training module, his staring is much more obvious in such a closer proximity. his dull brown eyes look restful, more hazy with warmth that contrasted his deadly cold nature — yet he still looks terrifying, but it could never be helped when it came bi-han, it was his resting face. when you quickly look up for a reply, he realizes all too late that he’s caught, yet his stubbornness tells him not to falter under your gaze as he mentally cursing at himself for his blatant act of staring.

“are you angry at me or is there something on my face?” you quirked an amused brow with a smile, tilting your head cutely.

bi-han just grunted in response, snatching the scroll off your hands and raising it against his face to avoid your teasing gaze — thankful his mask hid his redden cheeks. the grandmaster would have to die of old age before he admits that he admires you from afar. but for now he’ll deal with your relentless teasing.

kuai liang loves to admire beauty whenever he encounters it. the vibrant, pink blossoms grown in wu shi academy always made him smile. the fresh greenery and exotic plants that he cared for always brightened his day. but all those things were incomparable to your beauty and intellect. he loves to watch you fight — even looking past the sweat and messy hair after intense training. he watches you with adoration when you converse with the younger trainees — resilient and beautiful — he thinks.

you tended to him after he comes back from a mission, offering herbal tea and a scenery of his garden under the moonlight. you converse with him, although it’s one sided. kuai liang stares at your lips, soft and pretty — curling into a sweet smile. you notice that his soften eyes were directed on your lips. a rush of heat flowed through your body, how long had he done this for?

“what is so interesting about my lips kuai liang?” you muster the courage to ask, mentally thanking madam bo for gifting you tinted lip balm.

his reaction seemed halted before he realizes he was indeed caught. he chuckled nervously as he propped himself up to turn towards the luminance of the moon. kuai liang was flustered, but when he felt your balmy lips on his cheek, all the shame in his body vanished.

tomas isn’t subtle. at all. he’s very much aware of that, even his brothers and the young trainees tease him for being so smitten at plain sight. even so, he still cannot help but continue to stare at you with a loving daze — nervously fiddling his fingers behind his back. through his daily admiring, tomas came to the conclusion that he loved everything about you. his eyes tend to dart to your bright eyes, soft lips, pretty hair, and silky skin.

when you’re accompanying him with his training, cheering and playfully applauding at the younger ninjas dueling in an tense battle. the action playing before tomas was lost in time. it was blurry, silent, unmoving but all he could see is you — manipulating this time stop in his mind with your raw radiance. then his eyes widen when you met his gaze and suddenly he’s panicking. with trained speed, he’s now looking down at his feet, whistling a broken tune.

“this is the third time i’ve caught you staring, you know that right?” you mused, uncontrollably giggling when tomas nods in flustered acknowledgment.

tomas looks up from his feet and sighs in defeat. even caught another time, he’ll still take the opportunity to look at the scene before him — your cheerful grin and gleaming eyes. if his staring problem can make you this happy, he doesn’t see why he should ever stop.

johnny cage is a shameless man. he loves to flirt and proudly embrace his failed attempts at flirting. eye contact is key, he believes. a very effective technique to swoon others and an act of intimacy without touching. johnny loves to stare at you, in hopes of meeting your eye and share a perfectly cliche romantic movie experience. but with your oblivious nature, he hasn’t been successful just yet. although he learned that he loved your smile — instead of his usual attraction to anything below the face.

mindlessly wondering around the fire temple, johnny finds you sitting on the stairs while reading a rather thick looking book. he immediately joins your side, flashing a white smile as he enthusiastically boast about his acting career. even if your eyes aren’t on him, to much to his disappointment, you acknowledged every word and responded in interest. then he gradually stops talking until he’s mute and you grow concerned.

“johnny, did you fall asleep?” your brows furrowed as you turned to him, his head resting on his knee.

with his frosty blue lens, you couldn’t tell if he’s awake or asleep. slowly, you took the frames off his face and flinch in shock. his eyes were wide open, staring at yours with unfamiliar intensity for a moment. then you smile and turn away flustered. finally! he made eye contact and was rewarded with your beautiful smile. johnny’s hollywood charm works … most of the time.

raiden is clueless when it comes to his staring problem. he doesn’t mean to stare half the time, it was a force of habit — automatic admiration. you were simply bewitching, even in simple attire that was paired with a stained apron. his eyes are big and soft when he looks at you, even so when he talks about you. it could take kung lao screaming in his ear for raiden to snap out of his enchanted state. he promises himself to be more subtle, and so he did.

you’re pacing around the tea house, serving refreshments with impressive finesse while warmly conversing with the local villagers. under his straw hat, raiden watches you intently — noticing the loose stands fall on your face as it tickles your neck. your soft hair frames your face perfectly, dancing through the air like silk in the wind — one of your most beautiful features. under a smitten daze, he doesn’t notice how your body is much closer and how your voice was much clearer, soothing his ears.

“it’s okay to call me over for a chat raiden, i don’t bite.” you jested as you tilted his hat back with a finger, meeting his eager gaze.

he’s blushing now, beet red. a nervous laugh escaped his lips as his eyes averted to the side — caught in the act. you only adoringly smile at him, leaving the check on his table as you tend to another customer. another friendly interaction, raiden thinks. but when he looks at the check, a small heart and the time you’re off work was written on the parchment. his cheeks suddenly hurt from smiling too hard, he couldn’t wait. but for now, he’ll kill time by watching you from afar.

© aweina : please do not copy, repost, or modify any of my content.

[lessi-lover]

tied to you II a.putellas x reader

you thought you'd left alexia behind, but it turns out she was holding the strings more than you ever knew.

warnings: light smut, silk ties, dub-con, sub!reader, dom!alexia, power play, past toxic relationships, toxic alexia, choking, slight breath play, biting, hair pulling, edging.

tied to you II a.putellas x reader

travesura, venir!" you looked up from the large stack of wine cases at the shout of your name, your manager's voice cutting through the loud chatter coming from the bar.

grabbing a tray, you began to collect empty glasses that had found the top of the counter, the bar had been unusually busy for a sunday night and it seemed more and more people just kept flowing through, the rush seemingly endless.

the name trouble suited you almost too perfectly. you had attracted the attention of almost too many people who visited the bar and the nights that seemed to follow after those conversations with hopeless bar goers were ones that your manager was almost too aware of.

"need something?" you smiled, leaning on the door of the back room as your manager continued to lift box after box onto the high shelves, ones you had been told to lift, but you could never reach anyway.

"sí, puedes traerme un par de botellas de ese nuevo cabernet?" the man asked without looking back, but you could tell that the usual flex in his brow was strained as he concentrated on counting. "nos estamos quedando cortos y creo que la multitud de esta noche lo agradecerá."

james didn’t glance back and that was just fine with you. there weren't any feelings here. his gruffness was something you’d gotten used to over the course of the few last years. you owed him much more than you could ever give. though you weren’t sure that he saw it that way.

the man had been there when you'd made the move over from england, couldn't speak a word of spanish and could barely afford to keep your flat for a month. he'd taught you most of what you know and you spoke to each other in a mix of spanish and english.

he'd offered you a job as a bartender that you had no choice but to accept and had let you work in his bar, which was enough work to keep you running in a foreign country.

"por supuesto. also if you were wondering, your amiga from last week is sitting out back. looking very solitaria..." you teased, laughing at the way the man's face flushed and he immediately raised his hands to push you out the room.

james never had a smile on his face, he was just a local just barely keeping his business afloat. so it was rare that somebody, let alone you, was able to make the old guy crack a smile.

as grumpy as he could be, james never let anyone disrespect you. it wasn't uncommon that men at the bar would become a little too friendly at times as they drank more and more.

so it also wasn't anything new that old, lonely men would come onto you when you clearly weren't interested, but james always steps in and shows them out.

james knew about the other job thought. he never brought it up, but you could tell he was aware that you were off most nights during the week because of it.

your choice to be an exotic dance was one that he couldn't get you out of. james understood that the money was too good for you to pass up, and a little extra money never hurt anybody.

the look he gave you sometimes when you clocked off at night was pained, like he wanted to say something but decided against it. he didn’t judge, didn’t ask you questions, but he made sure nobody in the bar made your jobs collide. you'd come to realise that maybe that was his way of looking out for you.

the looks from past customers of yours that came into the bar didn't make you uncomfortable anymore, it came with the job and if you wanted to continue living solely, it was the price you had to pay.

besides, you really were into women anyway.

you finished wiping down the last sticky table as the bar started to clear out for the night. the crowd had finally thinned, leaving behind only a few regulars that were desperately nursing their drinks and talking to anybody who had the guilt to stick around. the shift was almost over, but you had another job waiting for you.

you briefly glanced at the clock as discreetly as you could, packing away the last of the washed dishes. looking down in relief you put your tag to sign out with just enough time to make it for your appointment.

“saliendo?” james asked, still not looking up from the boxes he was stacking. his voice sounded surprised, but there was something in it that told you that he knew where you were going. “yeah,” you muttered, grabbing your bag from behind the counter.

“got something lined up.” james didn’t need the details. he never did. he just nodded, eyes directed to the floor as you walked toward the door. "bye, james."

the cool air hit you hard as you stepped outside, the sound of the bar fading behind you. you pulled your jacket tighter around your figure, a familiar tightness settling in your stomach as you glanced at your phone.

the text was already there, glowing on your phone. an older man named rick, hotel off the main strip, room 204. your stomach tightened, but you kept walking. it was just another night, just another client. you really needed this money.

rick was just another man, another person's eyes you’d let blend into the blur of all the others. by the time you would wake up tomorrow, he would be a forgotten memory. just like the rest.

it was a routine now, a practiced charade and you had learned well not to let it get to you because it always seemed to hurt you less.

james.

your thoughts strayed to him more often than you cared to admit. he never told you off for it, but the concern in his eyes always made you wonder if he wanted, which was enough to tell you that he cared.

your little 'side job' was certainly carving into you now, but maybe it was better this way, -better that james didn’t say anything to you.

letting it slip through the cracks of what was meant to be a professional relationship, because if he did pry and the question was asked, you knew you couldn't hide behind the truth anymore.

but it was better this way, wasn’t it?

better that james never brought it up. better to keep the two worlds separate, let him believe you were just the friendly bartender, who had everything coming up and could handle herself. as long as he didn’t ask, you didn’t have to admit anything, which wasn't one you could easily walk away from.

you’d met plenty of men in this line of work. they were all the same. men who felt trapped in their boring marriages, chasing a grand escape for just one night a week. most of them weren’t looking for anything more than a distraction, a fleeting dream to make them forget their lives back home.

they craved attention, validation, someone to make them feel like they mattered, and as long as their egos were large, you could have them wrapped around your finger.

after a year of this work, you’d become an expert. faking interest, or even pleasure. it was just part of the game and you were always the willing one to play. to be honest, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel any sympathy for them, you didn't care. as long as the cash was there, you let them believe whatever they wanted.

if they needed to feel like the centre of attention, you were more than happy to help out, so long as you got paid at the end of the night that's all that mattered truly.

most people your age couldn’t even imagine making even half as much as you had in such a short time. sure it wasn’t glamorous, having to put on a show for strangers five nights a week but the money was good. and that was what mattered. the fleeting discomfort was a small riff in the financial freedom you had.

"estas aqui," he said with a crooked smile that barely reached his eyes. he stepped aside to let you in, his gaze lingering a little too long on you as you brushed past him.

you didn’t miss the way his eyes trailed over you, like he was already imagining the things he wanted to do. "i wouldn't miss a call." you said, your voice low as you placed your bag on the small table next to the bed.

you glanced around the room, the typical hotel setup: a large bed with perfectly tucked sheets, the smell of air freshener trying to mask whatever had happened before you had got here.

rick was still hovering awkwardly by the door, clearly nervous. he wasn’t new to this, but that didn’t stop the awkwardness that came with each meeting.

it was awkward because you both knew this was wrong. he had a wife, and you were sure she wasn't aware of his little weekly 'escapades'. he walked over to the minibar, fumbling with a cheap bottle of whiskey.

"drink?"

"no. no, thank you." you replied as politely as you could, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. your mind had switched into autopilot, the routine you’d perfected over the months taking over. it was better that you stayed sober, it was never safe to drink on a job like this.

besides the less time you spent dancing around, the less time you had to spend with him. rick poured himself a glass and took a large swig of the glass, clearly trying to calm his nerves. he sat down on the chair opposite the bed, avoiding eye contact for a moment before finally speaking.

"you, y-you look even better than i remembered. tan hermosa."you smiled, the same practiced one you’d given a dozen men before him. "thanks, rick." there was an awkward pause, the silence thickening as he tried to figure out what to say to you next. this part was always the same.

they always wanted to talk, to feel like they weren’t just paying for something purely emotionless. they wanted the connection, but you weren't the type to give it away for free. he just wanted to fill the silence with something before he got what he came here for.

"why don’t you… por qué no vienes aquí??" rick's voice was calm now, the anticipation of what he was paying for clear in his eyes as he waved you over, his hands already reaching out toward you.

you stood, keeping your movements smooth, detached. just another night, just another client. his touch scratchy against your skin, the stale smell of his cologne. it was all part of the job.

you let him pull you onto his lap, his hands tentative at first, then more confident as they slipped around your waist. "realmente eres algo, aren’t you?" he murmured to himself, you weren't sure if he intended to say it so loud as his fingers traced the line of your arm.

you felt a shiver run down your spine, but not the kind you think he was hoping for.

he wasn’t the worst client you’d had, just another man who didn’t know what he wanted but needed to feel like he did. his breath was hot against your neck as he leaned in, his hands fumbling at the buttons of his shirt.

you closed your eyes, letting your mind drift away from the situation, away from him. your head blurred as you slipped away, your body moving without letting your mind stay present.

your mind was elsewhere. the room suddenly felt suffocating, like the walls were closing in. you needed to escape, if only for a moment. you felt the air claw up your sides and enter your throat, cutting away your breath as the nails scraped the edge.

"mind if i use the bathroom?" you asked, your voice firm, already stepping toward the door at the back of the room without waiting for his answer.

"uh, sí," rick mumbled, still distracted as he let go of his hold on you. He stood up and started sorting the money. you didn’t need to see how much it was, just the sound of the notes being pulled out of the wallet was enough to comfort you.

the money. you needed it. this was what you were here for and you just had to get through this, let rick have his fun with you and you can pay off the deposit.

just as you were about to leave the bathroom, a sudden knock echoed from the hotel room door. your body tensed. rick hadn’t mentioned expecting anyone, and a part of you hoped he wasn’t the type to have a wife show up unannounced.

you pressed your ear against the bathroom door, trying to make out more of the voices. rick was stammering, trying to explain himself, but it wasn’t until you caught the low, familiar voice of the woman at the door that your heart dropped through your chest.

"you really should’ve known better, estúpido." she said, her tone calm but deadly. that voice. it was one you’d never forgotten, one that still haunted your thoughts at the oddest times.

your ex. alexia.

your pulse quickened. how the hell did she end up here? "no es lo que parece!" you heard rick stammer, but the rising pitch in his voice betrayed him.

"no es lo que parece!" the woman spat, her voice dripping with venom and you could feel her glare from the other side of the hotel room. “escuchar, i don’t want any trouble-" he tried to explain, but she cut his excuses off. "just go. take your money and leave."

what the fuck were you meant to do now. you're in a skimpy outfit meant for somebody else's eyes and the one woman you'd hope to never see again is standing on the other side of the door.

your heart stopped the second you stepped out of the bathroom. there she was, lounging on the edge of the bed as if she belonged there, her legs casually crossed, the same cocky grin plastered on her face that you’d tried so hard to forget. "miss me, amor?"

alexia.

the name alone made your chest tighten. your ex. the woman who’d somehow always had a way of spinning your head round, leaving you reeling no matter how hard you’d tried to move on.

"cat got your tongue?" you blinked, your mind struggling to catch up with the shock of seeing her here of all places.

“what, - what are you doing here?”

she just laughed, that same low, throaty sound that used to make you weak in the knees. “what, no hello? no long time, no see? you wound me, bebe.” you stared at her, throat dry, trying to process the feelings crashing over you.

it had been months since you’d last seen each other. hard months of trying to convince yourself that you were over her, that you didn’t need her in your life anymore.

but there she was, sitting in front of you like nothing had changed. like you hadn't left her for good, left a written note and bolted from her apartment. like she hadn’t torn you apart every time she drifted in and out of your life, leaving you to pick up the pieces every time she left.

“how did you even-” you started, but she cut you off with a wave of her hand. “rick? oh, i sent him on his way,” she said, her grin widening as she gestured toward the door.

“paid him off. he won’t be bothering you anymore.” your stomach twisted. “alexia you can't do that. this is my life to live, not yours." her eyes softened, just for a second, before the grin returned. “but you’re mine, and you know it.”

there was that possessiveness that you had tried so hard to escape. jealousy does read it's truest colours.

the thing that had always pulled you in, even when you knew better. even when you knew it would only lead to more heartbreak. you swallowed hard, trying to keep your body steady. “you don’t get to do this. you don’t get to just show up and-”

“and what?” she interrupted, standing up now, crossing the room in a few quick strides until she was standing right in front of you, her taller form towering over you so close that you could feel her breath fan your face as she stared down. “and remind you how good we were together?”

“we weren’t good together,” you whispered, but even as you said the words, you weren’t sure if you believed them. not entirely. the blonde smiled, leaning in closer, her lips just a breath away from yours. “do you want to rethink that one for me?”

and for a moment, just a split second, you were so tempted. tempted to fall back into her, to let her take you over like she always did. but then you remembered all the times she’d left. all the times she’d broken you down and left you wondering what you’d done wrong.

you stepped back, putting some distance between you. “you can’t just walk back into my life whenever you feel like it, alexia. i’m not- i’m not your plaything." she raises an eyebrow, her lips curving into a small smile as she leans in closer, her breath ghosting over your skin.

“can’t i?” your heart pounds in your chest, and you hate how easily she still obviously affects you. breaking up with her was supposed to give you clarity, allow you to make your own choices, but you always wound back in her arms one way or another.

“you know, it’s cute how you think you can just.. run away from me. but that’s not how this works as much as you thought it would. eres mía tanto como yo soy tuya." her hand lightly brushing the skin of your neck, gripping down hard, before softening again.

that was always her way of showing up; mess with your feelings and play with your mind in a way that no one else ever could.

“i’m working, alexia,” you say, your voice barely steady as you try to keep control of the situation. “you can’t just come in here and send away clients like it’s nothing. i built this up. it’s not another thing for you to destroy.”

her grin falters, but only for a second. the familiar flicker of defiance flashes in her eyes, as though she’s debating whether to take you seriously or not. “you call this work? tonto.” she scoffs, her eyes dark and challenging.

“baby, you're worth so much more than anything those men could ever give you.”she takes another step closer, her fingers brushing against the sleeve of your jacket, the gesture soft but charged.

"and i'm not here to destroy you, it hurts that you think that, amor." you flinch at the patronizing tone, your heart thudding as you stand your ground. “i think that’s all you ever do, alexia.”

her eyes narrow, the playful mask slipping as a hint of something more dangerous creeps into her expression. “i’m not the one who walked away, remember? you did that. you left. you destroyed what we had. not me."

“because you were toxic.” you snap, surprising yourself with the sharpness in your voice. the words hang heavy between you for a moment. “whatever we had is done alexia." you stammer out, trying to step back. but before you can finish, alexia catches your wrist in her grip, her large hands wrapping firmly around it.

her brown eyes flash with anger, darkening as she steps closer. “i never agreed to that,” she says, her voice low and dangerous. "the letter you wrote me never asked me, it's not fair for you to decide that for us, amor."

without thinking, you twist away and attempt to run past her, grabbing your bag. but alexia is an athlete and her reflexes are quicker. her hands catch you before you can reach the door and she pulls your back into her chest.

you gasp as her hand wraps tightly around you throat, cutting off your air and she presses her mouth to your ear. “where do you think you’re going, pretty girl?”

“you can’t just run away from me. you're mine. don't let yourself forget it.” she whispers in your ear, her hands leaving red marks on your neck as you wince from her grip.

you try to loosen her hands, shuffling your feet in a desperate attempt to make her let go, but her grip remains unwavering. “let me go, alexia, please.” you plead, her hand wrapping around you hair as she pulls your neck to rest on her shoulder.

"alexia you're crazy. let me go. you can't keep me here." you cry, tears falling onto your dress. her laughter is unsettling, sending a chill down your spine that feels dissimilar from the one you felt an hour ago.

“oh, but i can. you’re not going anywhere, sweet girl. not until i say so.” she presses her lips against your neck, softly kissing the skin before roughly biting down.

“you like this, don’t you? deep down, you know you do.” she drags you over to the bed, gently lowering you and it's now that you realised she's going to tie down as the soft silk wraps around your wrists and she once again lets her hands grip your throat.

"i missed you, amor, missed every inch of you." she smiles down at you, her hands combining through your hair as you move your head away from her touch. she slides down your dress and it bunches at your hips.

her cold rings made you shiver as they slid against your chest, her eyes locking with your own as she kissed the corner of your mouth.

"you can't resist me forever, my love." alexia whispered, her blonde hair falling onto your skin. "i know what you want, what your body craves. and I'm going to give it to you."

you hold in a whimper as she slides off your heels, her mouth making contact with you ankles and you hear her chuckle at how desperate you're trying not to sound. she kisses up your thighs, her hand coming underneath your waist to gently take the dress off.

"so beautiful, amor." you try to resist, every part of you flinching as your skin makes contact. alexia begins sliding her lips down your stomach, torturously slow as she cups your breasts over the black lace, her thumbs teasing, but she is sensitive to your sounds.

any attempt to deny how her touch made you feel was shut down by the way her lips felt against your skin. she takes off your bra with her teeth, grazing your skin as she takes it down your body.

her tongue slides over your nipple, earning herself a muffled moan as you try not to let her see how much it affects you. her mouth was hot as she threw the rest of the lace over her head without turning, her hips grounding into your own as she stopped you from moving.

"don't fight it. i know your body better than you." you couldn't disagree, her hands felt familiar and every touch was purposeful because she knew exactly how to break you down and she was using it to her advantage.

her hand tangled in your hair, tugging your head to the side to give herself access to your neck. "fuck. don't stop, ale." she pressed harsh kisses to the skin, her other hand travelling down your stomach, tickling the skin lightly only to slide into your folds.

your eyes fluttered closed as her lips smashed roughly against your own, her tongue exploring your mouth as you felt your head spin in circles. she had you exactly where she wanted you, dazed in a haze of your own pleasure.

once again you were reminded how possessive alexia could be. she wasn't marking you for her enjoyment, she was marking you as territory. your stomach flipped as she gripped the side of your neck again, the blonde biting your bottom lip as she pulled away.

"please." you breathed out as continues to tease you, whining as suddenly her fingers left and wiped against your stomach. "admit it. admit that you need me and i'll see about that pleasure you want so bad, mocosa." her teeth grazing your ear as you went silent, "admit it." she smiled, caressing your face softly.

alexia's eyes darkened as she studied your movements, your body sprawled out on the bed, your wrists securely fastened unable to get free. you had been a brat today, been a brat since you had left, pushing alexia's buttons in all the wrong ways since the moment she had read your note.

your body squirmed beneath the scratchy feel of the sheets, hips bucking slightly as her hands ghosted your skin. comforting but not where you wanted to be touched.

"come on, alexia." you whined, frowning as she completely removed her body from yours, only leaning over to see your reaction.

she knew exactly how to handle you. of course she did, she always knew. the blonde slapped your cheek and you gasped at the impact, cheeks flushing red in embarrassment at how easily she could unravel you.

alexia leaned, lips brushing against your cheek. "oh? does that turn you on?" your cheeks flushed further, biting your lip between your teeth to stop yourself from gasping. she didn't respond to your reaction, but the way she smiled in response spoke volumes.

"hm, you're not very patient, are you?"

your eyes rolled back as her fingers slipped into your folds once again, her other hand forcing your legs open as you tried to close them. "ale please. don't do this. just let me have this." you begged, your eyes pleading with the blonde to let you off this once.

"begging is not a good look for you, amor. i prefer it when you give me what i want." she murmured, her voice thick with desire. your eyes snapped open, glaring up at alexia, as she only smiled back condescendingly.

"whatever the fuck you want," you spat out, voice strained. ignoring your words, alexia slid her hand down, teasing the sensitive flesh with her fingertips. your body responded instinctively, hips bucking in an attempt to escape the touch.

alexia's laughter was dark and seductive as she held you down, her thumb circling your clit with just enough pressure to make you squirm. "you're such a fucking tease, you know that?" you gritted out, glaring up at her.

her response was to grab your hips and yank you back where she wanted you, her teeth sinking gently into the soft skin of your hip.

"maybe begging is a good look for you." she whispered against your ear, her voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine. your breath hitched, but you remained silent as alexia looked to you in challenge.

alexia knew you were close, she could feel the tension from your body, the way your muscles tightened and released. "you should know me well enough by now." she murmured, her voice sweetly spoken but it belied the firmness of her touch, "i'm going to edge you for how much of a brat you were tonight."

~

[shadowkoo]

Kingdom Cum

�� Summary: On the eve of your wedding, you're ready to let loose and make it a night to remember. In the heart of a vibrant city, surrounded by your closest friends, you're determined to savor one last taste of freedom. But when a series of unexpected encounters transforms the celebration into something far wilder than you ever imagined, you find yourself torn between temptation and the life you're about to commit to. At Kingdom Cum, the night is bound to be steamy; leaving your desires to run high, while dangerously blurring the lines between loyalty and lust.

↠ mingi x f.reader x hongjoong | 3.3k words | 18+ ↠ genre: y2k cyberpunk aesthetic nightclub, exotic dancer/stripper au, the filthiest smut i’ve written in a looooong ass time

→ Warnings: infidelity (Y/N is at her bachelorette party) double penetration and double teaming (you’re welcome in advance), fingering, oral sex (female receiving), partial voyeurism and exhibitionism, breast play, light bondage (bride sash used as a restraint), spanking, begging, semi public sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, doggy deluxe, edging, deep dicking, belly bulge, clit pinching, ass enthusiast!hongjoong, teasing expert!mingi, well behaved!reader, multiple orgasms, sloppy oral sex, cock swallowing, cock choking, throat fucking, size kink, heavy praising, slight degradation, creampies, cum play, cum stuffing, overstimulation, the slightest power play, mingi’s got a magic cross dick piercing (bc why not hehe i’m feeling evil) there’s probably more I’m missing

→ Networks: @ksmutsociety @k-vanity

→ Moodboard: view here!

→ Author Note: a big thank you to beezy @hobeemin for beta editing, to cherry @shuadotcom, summer @beomcoups, booki @kwanisms, and maren @wooahaeproductions for hyping me up and letting me scream about this!

And also to sevn @aaagustd & nabi @jenoslutie for being my sprinting partners for several days i would have never finished this without the motivation fr, ILYSM <3

⋆˙⟡ m.list ⟡⋆⟡ ao3 ⟡⋆⟡ wips ⟡⋆⟡ updates ⟡⋆⟡ shadow realm ⟡˙⋆

It’s almost midnight, and the real fun is about to begin. It’s your bachelorette weekend, and you’re surrounded by your closest friends, ready to celebrate in style.

The city lights glimmer outside, but all laughter and music are inside. Drinks flow as you and your crew revel in the weekend's freedom. You’ve been looking forward to this escape for months and with your girls by your side, the energy is electric.

The night is young, the city is yours, and the party is only getting started.

“Just wait, I’ve heard they strip everything,” Yeri says, emphasizing her last word.

“They better be hot,” Sunny jokes, lifting her cup to sip her drink. You’re all sitting at a table in Kingdom Cum, a popular cyberpunk nightclub that’s known for having the two best after-dark dancers in the city - SpankMaster and SlickNasty.

“Hi ladies,” a male says from behind your group, “We can’t show you everything, but you won’t be disappointed.”

Turning to look, you see that it’s a gorgeous man with a blue streak running through his tousled hair. He runs his ring-covered fingers through his colorful strands, furthering the messy-styled look.

“I heard earlier that a bachelorette party would be joining us tonight. After spotting you sexy ladies, I knew you had to be the group.”

His eyes land on you, “You must be the bride.”

It’s obvious, you can’t pretend otherwise - even if you want to. You’re wearing a slutty white bra top (per Yeri’s demand), and white cheetah print pants with a ridiculous silk sash that says ‘Future Mrs.’ across the middle.

“Mingi, better known as SlickNasty, at your service,” He says, extending a hand toward you. His fingers brush yours before gently lifting your hand to his lips. Mingi’s eyes never leave yours, holding your gaze as he places a soft, lingering kiss on the back of your hand.

It feels way more intimate than it’s probably meant to be.

As he finishes, he lowers your hand slowly, releasing it with a sly smile that hints at something more.

Or maybe that’s exactly how he meant it…

“And here comes the other half of tonight’s show,” Mingi says directing your attention to the next stunning man walking over to your table.

“Hello ladies, I’m Hongjoong, your SpankMaster. My pleasure to meet you,” he says, his voice deep yet smooth, brimming with confidence that radiates from his effortless demeanor. “We’re here to steal the lovely bride-to-be for the first performance.” He winks at Sunny, whose cheeks instantly heat up.

“Oh, yeah, absolutely! Take her away!” She blurts, practically pushing you out of your seat and into their arms. You rise to your feet and follow them as they lead you backstage.

“Alright, hot stuff,” Hongjoong says once you’re hidden behind the curtain. “Excuse my manners, I forgot to ask for your name.”

“I’m Y/N.”

“Here,” Mingi directs you to sit down on the chair conveniently placed at the center of the stage. He stands to your left, hovering over you as Hongjoong leans in on the right side.

“Just gotta confirm before the show starts, do we have your consent to touch you on stage?” Mingi questions an inch away from your heated face.

“Yes,” You nod, giving them permission.

“That’s a good girl,” Mingi whispers in your ear. Before you have time to react, the curtains sweep open, and bright lights flood the stage, momentarily blinding you. Over the rush of excitement, you can hear your friends cheering wildly from their table.

The two explode onto the stage with electrifying energy, their movements sharp, fluid, and in perfect sync with the pounding beats. A few backup dancers join behind where you are seated. They’re all dressed in neon, complementing the trendy punk looks of Mingi and Hongjoong.

The stage vibrates with power as they hit every beat with precision, seamlessly blending their different styles together.

“How’s everyone doing tonight,” SpankMaster (Hongjoong) grins, swaying his hips to the beat as he struts down the catwalk of the stage. He poses at the end, teasing all the women in the room as he slowly lifts a corner of his tank top.

He drops the fabric and wags a finger, “Not quite yet, I wanna hear you scream for it.” The crowd erupts, giving him exactly what he demands and he chuckles.

“That’s good, very good actually,” he praises. “SlickNasty, you think you can help me out?”

Mingi saunters over until he’s behind Hongjoong, resting his hands on his friend’s shoulders before running them down his chest. He bunches the thin fabric between his fingers and tears Hongjoong’s shirt right down the middle, leaving the shreds to fall onto the stage.

They turn around, gyrating their hips to the beat and in sync with one another, before walking back over to where you are seated.

“Ready to have some fun?” Mingi’s breath tickles your neck as he straddles your lap. He hovers above you before crossing his arms and slowly lifting his shirt off next, tossing it somewhere offstage where two women fight over it.

As Mingi dances, his gaze remains fixed on yours, an unspoken connection pulsing between you both with every move. The music echoes around you, but it's the intensity of his eyes that holds your attention, drawing you in deeper.

Even as his body twists and sways in rhythm, he never breaks eye contact, as if the entire room has faded away and it's just the two of you in this moment. Each glance feels deliberate, filled with a mix of arrogance and something darker that keeps you locked in, unable to look away.

The rest of the song is a blur of skin and muscles. Every roll of Mingi’s hips has your insides burning more and more. The air is thick and heavy, like the calm before a storm. And boy, do you want it him to rain down on you.

His movements overflow with unspoken words, and tension hums beneath the surface. It’s electric and suffocating, as if any moment could tip the scales and send everything spiraling out of control. That thought pools heat between your thighs.

Hongjoong saunters back over toward you, pausing to tap Mingi on the shoulder. It’s their signal to one another, and they switch positions effortlessly.

Mingi returns to the front of the stage, dancing energetically while engaging with the crowd, drawing them in with his cocky presence.

Hongjoong has a sideways grin on his face as he pulls you to your feet. “Show me your moves, hot stuff," he teases with a grin, twirling you around with effortless grace. As the spin ends, he slides down your side, fluidly and playfully, syncing perfectly with the rhythm of the music.

Swaying your hips against his, you raise an arm to your hair to release the claw clip currently holding it up. Tossing your head back, you let the curls bounce around you as move to the beat. Your friends’ screams fade into the background as you lose yourself in the moment.

Mingi watches you, his eyes all dark and broody. He’s entranced, stuck under your spell as you grind against his best friend. His eyes lock with Hongjoong’s and they share a silent exchange, and with a quick nod, agree on the matter.

Your moment is suddenly interrupted when the crowd erupts into chaos, the lights dimming, and then it dawns on you. Their set is over. This is over. Damn.

The backup performers step out from the shadows and down into the crowd, pulling fellow show-goers to the open dance floor. The DJ picks up the tempo as more and more people leave their seats to join in on the fun, including your friends who are dancing with a few hotties themselves.

The curtains shut dramatically again, closing you off from the outside world.

“Follow me,” A stagehand says, grabbing your attention and directing you backstage with SpankMaster and SlickNasty.

“Um…What now?” you ask nervously as the two look at each other knowingly. “I should-uh. I should head back, right?” You awkwardly point to the front of the venue.

“Well, now you have a decision to make,” Hongjoong smirks. “You can go back to your friends…”

“Or you can stay here with us,” Mingi finishes, cracking open the door to his dressing room, inviting you to join them.

Your gaze travels back and forth between the two. Half of you knows better than to pretend like you don’t know what will happen if you go in there. But the other half of you is dying to find out if you’re right. It is your last night of freedom, how can you turn down this chance?

“Do you trust us?” Mingi asks, pulling you from your battling thoughts.

“Yes.”

Your stomach twists in anticipation as they shut the door behind you, and with a decisive click, you’re locked inside.

Mingi is the first to touch you, his large hands wrapping around your bare waist, pulling your backside up against his front. Those same hands slide up to your breasts, kneading them lightly at first. You moan, reaching backward to clutch his strong thighs, your nails digging into them as his grip tightens.

“You’re gonna be a fun one, aren’t you,” Mingi chuckles in your ear, nipping at it gently before pulling away from you. He joins Hongjoong who’s sitting on the black couch, waiting.

“Last chance to leave, sweetheart,” Hongjoong warns, tapping the space between him and Mingi. Your legs move before your mind and heart even catch up to what you truly want, what you crave.

You should be running back to your friends, and yet, you sit.

“Good girl,” Hongjoong murmurs before crashing his lips against yours. His tongue tickles the corner of your lips, demanding to be let inside.

Simultaneously, Mingi works to undo your pants. You lift your hips, giving him space to drag the fabric down your hips, leaving them in a pile on the floor.

“Damn, baby,” he groans, looking at your damp panties. “Look how worked up you already are. Spread your legs for us. Let us see how wet you are.”

You comply and are kindly rewarded when Mingi’s fingers pull your panties to the side. Sucking in a sharp breath, your head falls back as he spreads your dewy folds open with his digits.

“Is the fact that I’m fingering you while my best friend watches getting you all worked up?” he questions devilishly, already knowing the answer. Your face twists in pleasure with every curl of his fingers.

Mingi’s other hand wraps around your hair, pulling your mouth to his. He sucks in your bottom lip, surprising you when he bites down.

Hongjoong sucks on your exposed neck, then hovers above the spot he created, pleased with the purplish spot already growing. One of his hands dips down between your legs, meeting Mingi’s as he adds another two fingers inside you.

“This pretty little cunt’s gotta get stretched out if she’s gonna take both of us. Do you want that?” Hongjoong asks, his voice all husky.

“Yes,” you breathe shakily, “I want that so bad.”

Their fingers quicken, pumping in perfect sync, each thrust inward hits that sweet spot that has you dancing dangerously close to the edge.

“Please, please!” you cry out, begging for release.

“That’s it, gorgeous. Let us hear those pretty moans,” Hongjoong praises.

Your body inevitably tenses as shockwaves rush through your body, pleasure pulsating head to toe as your insides contract around their slowing fingers.

Mingi tilts his head and grins. “Are you ready?” he asks as you’re catching your breath.

Before the words ‘for what’ even have time to register in your brain, he moves from his spot next to you and kneels between your legs. Swiftly placing his hands behind your knees, he yanks you forward. “I know what to do to make this kitty purrrrrr,” he rolls his tongue, “Are you ready to find out why they call me SlickNasty?”

“God, yes,” you plead as he rips your useless panties off, throwing the remaining fabric elsewhere.

Mingi delves into your soaked center, and he moans deliciously, loving your sweet taste. The one thing he loves most in the world is pleasing a woman with his tongue; the satisfaction he gets is unmatchable.

His tongue licks up your slit, circling the sensitive nub several times, making your legs shake and his length stiffen.

“Such a good slut. Look at you, trying to fuck my tongue,” Mingi rasps as you push back against his mouth.

You’re a moaning mess, frozen in pleasure, and Hongjoong takes the opportunity to untie the back of your top. He tosses it aside with the rest of the clothing that is quickly disappearing.

He sucks one of your velvety peaks into his mouth, teasing it with his teeth before sucking to alleviate the pain.

Hongjoong massages your other breast with his hand while his mouth continues its beautiful assault on your hardening point. He releases his lips only briefly, blowing air over your wet mound, before swapping to the other side.

“Fuck, I need more,” you beg, arching your back off the couch.

As if they know that you’re on the precipice of coming again, the two men work harder; Mingi’s tongue lapping your folds as his nose rubs against your sensitive clit, Hongjoong’s teeth tugging on your nipple.

A moan tears through you, your body convulsing as your second orgasm courses through your veins.

Without giving you time to come down from your high, Mingi flips your body over in one quick movement, leaving you on your hands and knees. He stands at the end of the couch, shoving his leather pants down and freeing his cock.

Your mouth waters as you take in the size of him. Something reflects in the light, and your eyes quickly land on his tip. It’s pierced, with two bars crossing over each other, creating the perfect ‘X’ marks the spot.

“Open wide for me, pretty girl,” he says, quickly shoving his length into your stunned mouth. He’s hot and heavy, just his tip alone fills your mouth. You stretch your jaw, opening as wide as you can to take in more of him.

Something feral inside Mingi switches when he notices his cock creating a bulge in your throat. He growls, grabbing a fistful of your hair to hold your head steady while he watches it move as he does.

Hongjoong undresses behind you, quickly finding his place at your backside. He takes a moment to enjoy your ass from this angle, gazing unapologetically before raising a hand to slap the perfectly untouched skin.

Your flesh jiggles from the impact, and he rubs the area to relieve the stinging. He admires the redness growing across your cheeks as he spanks you again and again.

You moan, vibrating around Mingi’s cock.

“I think she likes that, what do you think Hongjoong?” Mingi says through gritted teeth.

“I know something she’ll like even more,” Hongjoong answers before slamming his thick length into your heat.

“Oh yeah,” he practically purrs, loving the way you take all of him. With every hard thrust from Hongjoong, you choke around Mingi’s cock.

Mingi wipes the drool dripping down from your chin before gripping your jaw, “You’re just a toy that’s meant to be stuffed from both ends, isn’t that right?”

You nod as much as you are able with his length still shoved deep down your throat.

“Such a good toy,” Hongjoong compliments, awarding your ass with another hard smack. Your nails dig into the arm of the couch to keep from falling over.

Holy fuck.

Mingi’s cock twitches, but he holds back. He’s got other plans on where his cum will be spilling tonight. He makes eye contact with Hongjoong, and they share the same thought as he slips out of your wrecked mouth.

You mewl at the loss of contact when Hongjoong also pulls out. But before you have time to ask questions, Mingi lifts you and carries you over to his vanity, gently setting you down against the cool marble countertop.

Hongjoong’s eyes land on something white and silky on the floor; he smirks at his finding.

Perfect, he thinks, grabbing it from the ground and twisting it in his hands as he saunters over toward you. Your mind registers that it’s your ‘bride’ sash.

“Hold your wrists out.” You do as you're told, and he ties it around them. He lifts your joined hands over your head, pinning them in place. “Will you keep them there?” he asks.

“Yes,” you whisper, keeping them lifted when he removes his hands.

Your eyes wash across both men’s bodies, their cocks resting up against their abs. It’s the best sight in the world.

They look to you for approval as they line their cocks lined up with your center. You nod repeatedly, silently begging them to fuck you already. 

Slowly, they both push into your needy cunt. You feel the cool metal of Mingi’s piercing glide against your inner walls as they sink into you.

Mingi tosses his head back once he’s pushed to the hilt; the position shows off his tense neck veins.

Meanwhile, Hongjoong hisses as his body goes rigid. Taking in a couple of deep breaths, he regains his composure and turns his head toward Mingi, giving a slight nod to say it’s go-time.

You scream out when they pull back, slamming back into you before you even have time to register. Pain mixed with pleasure at the stretch you out.

“You can take it, I know you can,” Hongjoong says, his hand gripping your waist.

“So fucking tight,” Mingi groans.

Your eyes land on your lower stomach, where you can see their cocks practically rearranging your insides. Moaning as you watch the bulge move in and up and down motion, your arms momentarily fall while distracted.

Hongjoong growls, grabbing your bound wrists and slamming them back up against the wall. His thrusts get slightly sporadic, getting closer to his own release.

Your body glistens with sweat, and Mingi is entranced by your perfect tits with perky nipples bouncing in circles as they hammer into you.

You hook your legs around both men, crying out when Hongjoong pinches your clit.

“Come. Now.”

Mingi’s demand has your mouth watering from the sheer dominance laced in his voice. Your eyes flutter as your face twists, accepting your fate as you succumb to orgasm number three.

Hongjoong grunts as your walls tighten around both cocks. His eyes roll back as he releases his creamy load into you. He shudders, pulling out of you and watching some of his cum drips onto the floor below.

Mingi growls after Hongjoong steps back, lifting one of your legs as he pounds into you one, two, three more times until his cum shoots through your soft folds.

You’re perfectly content and ruined, unable to move.

“Didn’t I say that would be fun?” Mingi says after noticing your blissfully fucked face. He leaves a quick kiss on your cheek before stepping back to clean himself.

When he returns, you’re about to reach for one of the tissues he has in hand when you’re quickly stopped by Hongjoong.

“Ah, ah, ah.” He shakes a finger, before putting two between your legs, stuffing their creamy mixture back up into your heat.

“That’s for later, when you’re missing us,” he winks, handing you your pants to slip on while Mingi reaches for your top.

“So, you better get back to your friends,” Mingi says, stepping back after he helps you into your shirt. “We don’t want them to think you got lost for good.”

Hongjoong taps you on the ass lightly as you’re led to the door, “Goodbye, hot stuff.” He smirks. “Good luck with the wedding.”

…Oh yeah…

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[holybibly]

Some boys we call boyfriends, some we call husbands, but Kim Hongjoong we can only call Daddy.

Here are today's unholy thoughts, my beloved bunnies - More than anything else in his life, Hongjoong loves and adores his precious exotic pedigree cat hybrid, and there is nothing that gives him more pleasure than to spoil and corrupt you in every possible way.

Or you're lucky enough to be adopted by the hottest, most gorgeous owner you could ever imagine, and you enjoy your luxurious life with your filthy rich, sexy daddy to the fullest, allowing him to have you however he wants.

And what gives you so much pleasure is the way his tongue expertly dances between the folds of your wet, pretty pussy, and the way he fills you up with his cock, stretching your tiny hole to the very brim. You always feel so full and satisfied after he has filled you with his milky, thick cum until it starts to pour out of you, oozing out where the delicate edges of your hole are licking the thick girth of his cock. The sticky cum runs down the length, coating it completely in cream, which you'll be more than happy to lick off his delicious, veiny cock when he's finished playing with you.

After Hongjoong adopted you from a luxurious, elite nursery for exotic hybrids six months ago, your life began to resemble a fairy tale. At first, you couldn't get used to having such a handsome man next to you. You were constantly embarrassed by his hot, seductive looks and the loving words he spoke in his sultry, purring voice.

Every interaction you had was so intense, sending shivers of excitement through your skin and making the soft folds of your pretty pussy so wet. The more time you spent with Hongjoong, the more you became attached to him, and the more you wanted more of his caresses and touches. You wanted to feel him all over you, and your gorgeous owner was more than happy to give you whatever you wanted.

You loved the days when Hongjoong worked from home and let you sit on his lap all the time and you could play with yourself while he was busy. You were such a sweet, purring mess, using his thigh to rub your needy pussy against him to get pleasure, while he occasionally took a break from his work to give you a little attention, licking and sucking your soft, big tits, covering them with hickeys and the faint marks of his perfect teeth. Or you could warm his cock, feeling the pleasant pressure of its thick, veiny length nestled perfectly between the silky walls of your pussy. You could go on like this for hours until you started moaning about how much you wanted him to play with your pussy and fuck you until you squirted. And who was Hongjoong to say no to his sweet princess?

A light scratch on your swollen clit with his fingernail was enough to make you cum all over his cock, your loads flowing like a waterfall from your hole, running down his length and balls, and pooling in a pool of liquid lust on the chair beneath you.

You also enjoyed helping him bathe after a hard day's work. Hongjoong always looked so handsome and incredibly sexy as the light from the candles in the bathroom shimmered on his wet, smooth skin. And the way he would moan softly and hoarsely as you ran your hands over his body and kneaded his shoulders to relieve tension and give him pleasure, but most of all, you loved to see his orgasmic expression on his stunningly handsome face as you slowly and sensually stroked his cock and massaged his balls underwater as you kissed his beautiful neck with your mouth open. Hongjoong loved it when you left little hickeys on his skin. He wanted to belong to you as much as you belonged to him.

After bathing, you would always lie on his bare, wide chest, purring with pleasure and scratching him lightly while Joong scratched behind your fluffy ear and showered you with praise and compliments.

"My little queen," he called you as he tugged on your collar to pull you in for a deep, wet kiss as you rode his big, thick cock. He always fucked you so deep and so well that your hips started to shake and your pussy started to squelch loudly from the cum that was leaking out of you. Hongjoong is such an experienced and gorgeous man, and he taught you so many things you couldn't even think of, and the way he always got drunk on your sweet cunt and ate you up for hours was just indescribable.

All in all, Hongjoong was the most wonderful owner anyone could imagine, and you were so lucky to be his favourite kitty.

[undiscovered-horizon]

"Vipers, crows and dragons" - Aemond Targaryen x spy!reader

(warning: this story contains mentions of suicide)

SUMMARY: Your relationship with Aemond began strictly because of espionage. As time went on, your training failed you and you fell in love with the One-Eyed Prince. Too afraid to reveal the truth to him, you've sworn to carry it to the grave. Until your commander tasks you with murdering the prince who might kill king Aegon. Now you must choose whose life you will sacrifice - his or yours?

(angst with a happy ending, I swear)

WORDCOUNT: 5.3k (I started and couldn't stop)

Sleep has eluded you for three days now. It wasn’t for a lack of trying - recent events and assigned duties kept you too anxious to rest. Even if you closed your eyes, nestled in the strangest cranny of the keep, the sound of your own breath would keep you awake. Each sound, echoed by the stone walls, made you too wary to sleep.

Walking towards the commander’s quarters, you patted your face with the back of your hand. Mild pain and improved blood flow were just good enough to prevent you from stumbling over your feet. Once you report back, you should be off for the next day, maybe two, if Westeros decides to take a quick break from its usual lunacy.

Although most of your attention was focused on the unbearable exhaustion gnawing at your body and soul, some of your thoughts indulged in fantasies. When you finally have a few hours to yourself, what will you do with them? The weather has been lovely lately, ships from Dorne have brought exotic fruit, and…

You hear yourself gasp. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him. Three days felt like three decades. Usually, you would manage a visit here and there, between tasks. This time it was quite impossible, making you realise just how much you crave the attention of none other but Prince Aemond. How funny it really was - so many tried their hardest to avoid him whenever possible and you sought him out like stars do the night sky.

Thinking about him, you feel a sting in your chest. If he ever learns the truth, he… No. He simply can’t know. Not now, not ever. Let him believe that it was a pure accident that you were his designated guard when he travelled to one of the kingdom’s realms. This is better for everyone. Aemond may be wise for his young age but he’s just a man, despite his family’s claim to godhood - the truth will break him in an inconceivable, inhuman way. Perhaps some skeletons should remain inside the closet.

Your knock on the heavy door is more of a courtesy, rather than seeking permission. Without awaiting an answer, you enter the room.

Spymaster’s quarters resembled a library more than they resembled a war room. Stacks of books and parchments littered the space in random columns. If there was any rhyme or reason to the order, it was beyond your comprehension. Only Davros himself could find anything in that mess. Crows came and went through the open window, barely taking time to rest before flying off into the horizon again. Their cawing was comforting in its familiarity - it reminded you of the early days, when the only thing you were allowed to do was sort through the correspondence and write down the replies. Such simpler times…

"Commander Davros,” you called out, “you wanted to see me?"

The man glanced at you for less than a second. His grey eyes, a metallic shade like mercury, flickered towards you only to immediately go back to skimming through the paperwork on his desk. The table was kept in as much disarray as the rest of the room. Maps, sketches, reports and Gods know what else.

"Yes, there is something that needs to be done,” he said. The commander’s voice was, well, commanding. Each question sounded like an accusation, each statement like irrefutable facts of nature. “Swiftly and quietly."

A tired sigh left your lips. All the hopes for some rest burst like soap suds in a bath that’s growing cold. The image of Aemond’s silver hair and bright stare flashed before your eyes. As strange as it may sound, it was starting to feel physically painful to be away from him for so long. The most feared man in the kingdom and he was your safe haven, the only moment in your bleak days that you could feel truly safe.

But you swore your fealty to the Iron Throne. Fighting through another task means keeping Aemond and his family secure for one more night. Now, it seemed, it was the only thing you could do for him.

"Just my expertise.” You force yourself to smile and keep your head high. It would be incredibly naive to think that a few days without sleep could make Davros ease up on you. He was nothing if not demanding. “How can I be of use?"

The commander lifted his gaze at you. He leaned forward, propping himself up on the table. Despite deep wrinkles and greyish hair, he appeared quite youthful. Age hasn’t slowed his body or his mind.

"Kill Aemond Targaryen."

Maybe the lack of sleep started playing tricks on your mind. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Your voice was a mere breathy whisper. "I'm sorry?"

"You heard me just fine, girl."

Most people would say that their hearts started beating out of their chests when hearing something of that sort. In your case, it was quite the opposite - the muscle stopped at once, leaving you unable to breathe. Numbing pain spread underneath your ribs like a beast of horror gnawing at its enclosure to be let out. Is it love or grief that is clawing its way out fo you?

"And I can't believe that I heard what I heard. This is quite unexpected, sir."

"Death usually is.” Davros appeared calm, completely unmoved by the situation and its implications. This was just another day for him. “Prince Aemond is currently the largest internal threat to king Aegon. A mellow rug rat is easier to steer than a maniac with a grudge."

The commander may be a demanding man but he was never greedy. In fact, greed and selfishness were the two things he made sure you grew out of. His methods were painful, at times cruel, but effective. If it wasn’t for him training you, Prince Aemond would never have known about your existence, much less fallen in love in a ploy to keep his plans known.

"Since when do you care about 'steering' the king?” you ask, wary. Something about Davors has changed but you couldn’t quite put your finger on the cause. What was going on behind the curtains, the doors closed even to you? “We're meant to be peacekeepers and scouts, not meddlers."

"What would you call assassinating conspirators?” His question sounded like an accusation. You knew better than to answer. “You've killed many people, kid, and now you care about meddling?” Those mercury-coloured eyes bore straight into your very spirit. For a moment, he became a mirror of truth, forcing you to look at the ugliest part of who you are. Whatever you thought of it was irrelevant - it was true. “A spy with a conscience. As if!"

You’re not sure what to make of this turn of events. Davros is your commander, yes, but he’s acting unlike himself. Did someone put a spell on him? Was one of the Lords threatening him? Although blackmailing the spymaster sounded rather impossible to achieve. Which made this situation even more bizarre.

"It's just…” you hang your voice, looking for the right words. “I don't think this is wise, Davros. With Aemond dead, Rhaenyra has nothing to be afraid of. Aegon will be paralysed with fear that his brother was murdered. And Queen Alicent? She will go berserk. Our heads will end up on spikes before the rooster calls."

There was no visible change in Davros. Your words meant nothing to him.

"Queen Alicent is a woman of reason. She'll come to it."

His apparent lack of concern irked you. The commander was treading the line between callous and stupid. "She's also a mother,” you reminded him.

Davros scoffed and shook his head. "A mother who never loved her children, only the position they gave her,” he answered, the tone of his voice coming off as annoyed or bored.

It seemed as though he wasn’t asking you to assassinate your lover and the crown prince. He was sure it had to be done. All the positive and negative outcomes had already gone through his mind and Davros was content with the final outcome. He was beyond arguing.

The spymaster was clearly sacrificing peace and stability for his personal gain. What kind, you couldn’t be sure yet. What grand offer did it have to be?

“Stop wasting time, girl,” he droned out his words. “Get to it,” Davros spat out the command like a venomous lizard from Dorne’s deserts.

But you were well-acquainted with poisonous fruit and venomous bites. It was your sole purpose in this world to recognise them, to get rid of them before they reach the king. With vipers, as it is with men, one must not run in fear of their fangs. No - to win, you must show that your fangs are bigger. They dig deeper into the flesh, draw more blood.

“I won’t, Davros.” The tone of your voice was cold and calm like the winds sweeping the snow in the North. “And something tells me you knew that already.”

The commander’s eyes turned strangely dark. What once had reminded you of mercury’s colour, now reminded you of the deadly disposition of the substance. Despite healing some ailments of the body, it wasn’t any safer than a sharpened blade. In the same way, the spymaster’s seemingly collected exterior was nothing more but a ruse. 

“I was stupid enough to count on your reason.” The disappointment in his voice made blood rush to your face. As if it were a reflex, you wanted to lower gaze. Strangely enough, the thought of Aemond Targaryen forced your shame to disappear. “It seems it’s too late for that. You know that happens to traitors, don't you?"

It wasn’t a threat, at least not in the way most people understand the word. His question was more of a reminder, a warning at best. The letter of the law was clear and no amount of excuses could save your head should Davros bring your insubordination to the king’s attention.

And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to treat the matter with proper seriousness. Not when it came to him.

"Bite me,” you barked back at him. Davros raised his eyebrows in surprise and, truthfully, you shared his reaction. Never before have you stepped out against him. “I'm your second-in-command. If I suddenly fall dead your whole operation will go to shit and people will riot."

The commander’s lips twist into something similar to a smile but much too sinister to be a sign of joy. A curious glint in his grey eyes made him appear almost amused at your action.

"How bold,” he murmured, more to himself than you. “You seem to overestimate your worth, girl."

"Do I?” The question rings in your ears, its echo asking you the very same thing - are you overestimating your importance? To Davros, to the Iron Throne… to Aemond? “I'm the one you're asking to kill the prince who is next in line to the Iron Throne. If anything, I'm priceless to you."

"Priceless?” His voice came out as a hiss. Now is the time when the venomous snakes shall bare their fangs and compare. “You're only useful to me because you keep whoring yourself out to the prince. No one will question your weaponry and visits at strange hours of the night. You're not irreplaceable, girl. Just convenient."

His words hurt only because they were true and you couldn’t honestly deny the claims. Indeed, you and Aemond have indulged in ways that did not befit a couple from such different backgrounds. It was quite distasteful to call you a ‘couple’. A man and a whore aren’t a couple after all, are they? They are a person and an object. The only difference between you and the ladies in Flea Bottom was the price - you had none. Which made the whole scenario even more disparaging. The prince could do with you as he pleased and you never asked for any payment. Aemond, however, did pay. At least in some way. For every night spent in your company, he divulged parts of himself never known by any other living soul.

The decision should have been harder to make.

"Then you will have no problem finding my replacement."

Your fingers swiftly take off the small crow-shaped brooch from your coat. The pin clattered on the desk, right under the commander’s nose, when you tossed it away. One of the crows sitting on the windowsill cawed, as if in shock at the scene it witnessed.

Davros slowly picked up the brooch. He inspected it in his hands, although needlessly. It wasn’t something new or unknown to him. 

"I raised you,” he spoke after a moment of silence. His voice wasn’t calm but rather empty - rid of any emotion. “I've taught you everything you know. You would be nothing without me.” Davros raised the pin to his eye level like he was showing the pin to you. Then, he threw it across the room, missing your face by less than an inch. It wasn’t truly a miss; he meant to scare you. The metal accessory clattered as it hit the wall and then the floor. “And that's how you repay me?"

You slowly exhaled. It took a lot from you not to flinch when the pin just about missed your left cheek. Dodging flying knives was much easier, you noticed. Mainly because the people throwing them weren’t the ones who took you in around the time you learnt to walk. Those hands that taught you to tie shoelaces and braid hair had just shown you that they could easily maim you without much hesitation.

All doubts, guilt and shame left you the moment you took a deep breath. Davros no longer looked like your almost-father. No, his face contorted under the weight of something corrupted, festering inside him. He was the same man he was when you met him and yet, he appeared as a strange-faced devil.

"I'd rather be nothing than aid your struggle for power.” You clenched your hands into fists in hopes of stopping them from trembling. That waver in your voice was enough to let Davros know just how much effect he had on you. “You taught me about servitude, not…”, you hang your voice for a moment, realising you’re still in the dark about his motivation, “whatever this is supposed to be. The Iron Throne has blinded you."

The commander scoffed again. His eyes are staring at you as if you were a court jester, humiliating yourself in hopes of crumbs of dignity or food from the less-than-caring overlord. In other words, Davros found you pathetic to the point of amusement. Perhaps he had realised his own mistake - he never should have allowed you near the prince. It was his lapse of judgement that you’ve found yourself in such an undignified position; he should have known better than to make you responsible for such an important matter.

"Like the noble prick blinded you, girl? At least power is not something that will cast you away when nicer tits come its way."

A corner of your lips twisted into a half-grin. The expression was nothing short of contemptuous.

"Then you know nothing about power, Davros."

You turned to leave the room when the commander called out after you for the last time:

"This will cost you your life."

Some part of you wanted to look at him, desperately hoping to see even the shadow of the man you had almost called your father. But you knew better than to tease fate. Your eyes remained blankly focused on the door handle and your hand wrapped around it.

"It already did,” you said under your breath. “You raised me, remember?"

The door shut behind you and with them - your life. It was quite clear that by sunrise, someone would be dead. If not prince Aemond, then you. Davros wasn’t the kind of man to simply give up or let go of a grudge. Even if you were to flee King’s Landing, he was bound to find you at some point. The king’s spymaster had crows everywhere, some winged and some not. Prying eyes and ears of Westeros would be more than willing to sell you out for the commander’s favour.

Truthfully, the choice wasn’t much of a choice to you. The thought of killing Aemond was unfathomable to you. And to continue living with his blood on your hands? No, you didn’t have the heart to do this. To suffer for decades on end until your time runs out. If it’s not Aemond you will kill, it leaves you with only one option - yourself.

No matter the outcome of this night, you knew you had to do something beforehand. If you must take your longing for the prince to your grave, the truth should be known. The very truth you had sworn to yourself never to reveal. However, if you’re not going to live to tomorrow, it is only fair that Aemond becomes aware of just what awful thing you have done to him. Maybe, if you actually were more than a cheap whore to him, the truth would make his grief lighter. Perhaps it would rid him of any heaviness that your death shall bring.

You waited until nightfall, well after supper. At this hour, Aemond should be in his chamber, unbothered by any visitors. Aside from you, that is.

The twilight inside the bedroom made him appear even more alluring than he already was. Candlelight paired with deep shadows danced across his features, painting him both divine and sinister. Aemond’s silver hair, flowing down his shoulders and back, brought memories of flawless pearls smuggled by a merchant. You obtained them through trickery as well.

He didn’t move from his seat by the table when you opened his window and came in. There was no doubt that he heard you in the silence of the night. Only assassins and thieves enter homes through windows or balconies in the dark. Aemond Targaryen was yearning to see one of them.

You’re no farther than a meter away from him when the prince acknowledges your presence at last:

“You finally came.”

As cold as his voice sounded, you heard the unspoken fear, longing and anger writhing under his skin. Both lovers and spies seemed to be able to listen closely to the other’s silence. And Aemond’s silence was never empty or quiet. It spoke of things grander than life, too viscerally human to be expressed in any known language.

His leather clothing creaked as he got up from the chair and looked at you. The twilight surrounding you captured his demeanour all too well - divine and sinister, loving and dismissing, rejoiced and furious.

But most of all, he appeared sad.

It was the sadness of a child once again forgotten, a lover once again scorned.

And there you stood in front of him, bringing more heartache in place of apologies. 

“This is hardly a social visit, my love.” As much as you wanted to look Aemond in the eye, you couldn’t. If you met his longing gaze, you were sure to do just another foolish thing. “I came…” You paused, only to take a deep breath and exhale in a sigh. “I came because there is something that you must know. I have no doubts that it will change your view of me. In fact, I’m afraid it will make you despise me. But it must be said before the morning comes.”

Aemond’s eyebrows furrowed for a moment before he regained control over his expression. How truly him it was, to put on a blank mask in naive hope of fooling himself into disregard for the emotional turmoil inside. You’ve learnt to see beyond that facade, to see the small boy begging the world to finally love him. And how cruel the world was to make the love come from you.

“Despise you?” he repeated as though these words were foreign to him. “Why would I do that?” Aemond’s voice was soft, airy. Flowing through the room like a fallen leaf, guided by the cold autumn wind. “Indeed, there are many things in this world that I hate but you will never be one of them. You can’t make me hate you, my beloved.” His fingers gently brushed against the side of your face and neck. “Even if you tried.”

You grabbed his hand and held it against your chest. If it wasn’t for the layers of clothing you were wearing, he could have felt your heart hammering against your ribs.

“I hope you’re right, Aemond,” you whisper, more to assure yourself than him. “I pray to the Gods that you love me just as much as you claim.”

He remained silent, quietly egging you on to finally reveal the true reason for your visit. His blue eye bore into you, as if attempting to read your thoughts before you can say them out loud. The intensity wasn’t intimidating, quite the opposite - Aemond was wordlessly begging you to open your heart to him, to be allowed to know you on the deepest level. If he could, he would crawl inside you and inspect your inner workings up close. Maybe then he would finally learn how you could so easily bewitch him entirely.

You held his hand a little tighter. It was a naive attempt at grounding yourself, foolishly proving to yourself that Aemond was here, right in front of you. He wanted to hear the truth.

“Our meeting wasn’t an accident,” you confessed. “It was calculated, very much so. Davros knew that you’re too smart and too guarded to speak of your ambitions with just anyone. He devised a plan that I should form a relationship with you. Everything you told me, I was meant to pass on to him. And in the beginning, I did.” Tears gathered in your eyes and fell down your cheeks despite your miserable attempts at stopping them. They rolled down your face only to drip onto your and Aemond’s hands resting against your chest. “I was so proud of myself. Finally, I was given a responsibility that mattered. I was doing something important for the kingdom.” You noticed his jaw clenching, muscles desperately flexing to stop Aemond from something. “But then you made me laugh, we talked into late hours of the night and I grew to trust you in a way I’ve never trusted anyone. You’re the only person that I feel truly safe with, Aemond. I don’t deserve it but Gods!” You let out a scoff, suddenly realising just how pathetic you must sound and look. But it didn’t really matter if you were going to die soon. “I want to deserve it. I want to deserve you because I love you. And I know that after what I’ve told you, my words mean nothing, less than nothing.” You choke on a sob, Aemond momentarily stiffens. Something dark and unspeakable clouded his eye. “But if there is one truthful thing I have said in my life, it’s that: I love you, Aemond.”

He looked away for a while. To anyone else, he might have looked unbothered or even annoyed by this scene. You, however, knew the prince quite well. The way in which he couldn’t meet your gaze, how he stood unnaturally straight, how his nostrils flared and jaw was more prominent - it all pointed to Aemond caving in on himself, a vulnerable part of him shattered like a glass vase thrown on the floor. His ever-calm resolve was cracking, revealing the raw, unhealed wounds beneath. 

"Why are you telling me this now?" He managed to say in a low, raspy bark.

Aemond tried to pull his hand back but you kept it still against your chest. Your hold was firm enough to feel the bones under his pale skin.

"Because someone has to die tonight.”

The blue eye found your face again. A glaze of anger and betrayal clouded it, making it appear as though it belonged to an animal rather than a person. It was the eye of a viper whose venom you would welcome.

A questioning look, a tense silence.

“Davros ordered me to kill you and I refused,” you finally revealed, after a long silence that felt closer to years than minutes. “By the letter of the law, that is treason.”

“So is killing the prince,” he retorted in an equally low tone. 

Perhaps if the two of you spoke any louder, malicious spirits lingering in the castle would hear you, bringing doom upon you for their own pleasure.

“Which means I will die no matter what happens.” The certainty in your voice was tugging at something primal deep inside Aemond’s viscera. His hand should hurt from your iron grip but he felt nothing. There was numbness in his limbs, as though your statement had made his heart stop beating. “That actually makes it easier.” Your lips twisted into a bittersweet smile. “I can’t run from Davros, there is no corner in the world where he couldn’t find me. Running is futile. The only choice I have is regarding the manner of my death.” 

Time seemed to slow down for Aemond, allowing him to fully comprehend the horror unfolding in front of him:

You reached into your coat, pulling out a sharp knife. It reflected the low candlelight, for a moment resembling the softness of water. But water can both cleanse and drown. What cleansing, what rapture, could this blade offer to Aemond?

Your trembling fingers held onto the tip of the knife. In the most submissive of gestures, you offered him the handle of the weapon.

“Do this for me, Aemond,” you whispered. A cold shiver ran down his spine. Was is fear or excitement? He couldn’t be sure. “If you have ever loved me, kill me. Please.” Your voice and hands trembled as you begged. “I don’t want to bleed out in some back alley, cold and alone. If I have to go, I want you to be next to me.”

Aemond took the knife from you. He inspected it closely, admiring the craftsmanship of the blacksmith who had forged it. There was a motto inscribed on the handle: “Virtue guide me”.

And virtue shall guide it.

With a flick of his wrist, Aemond tossed the blade into the lit fireplace.

Before you can protest or ask what he was doing exactly, Aemond held your face in his hands. You were forced to meet his intense, fiery gaze as he spoke slowly, in a low voice:

"Gods be witness when I say this: if I ever raise my hand against you, its flesh shall rot down to the bone, resembling the fester and rot of my heart."

Tears fell down your cheeks again. Why did he have to be this way? His devotion was transgressive, turning from something romantic to delusional and viscous. As demented as it may sound, you didn’t want him any other way than treading the line between sane and sick.

“Don’t do this, my love,” you begged between whimpers. “Don’t make this harder than it already is. How can I die when you confess your love for me in such a tragic way?”

His hands felt delightfully warm against your skin. Your tears burned against his fingers. Their scorch travelled to his heart and further, into his viscera. It fed a flame you had set ablaze the first time your lips met his. This fire whispered to Aemond’s lovesick mind the most horrific promises and ideas. But the prince was a dragon - he didn’t know tender, innocent love. He only knew to devour and be devoured. Aemond listened to the whispers, slowly losing certainty where they ended and his own thoughts began. You had set his very spirit on fire and he welcomed the burn. Now the flames begged to be set free, to make true the violent vows of an immortal, all-consuming love.

Aemond rested his forehead against yours.

“Listen to me, my love,” he said. It wasn’t a plea but a demand. “If you die before me, I shall burn this world to ash. Noblemen and smallfolk alike will suffer like I do. The Gods will hear my cries of your name and they shall tremble in fear, for I will storm the gates of their castles. They will answer for taking you away from me.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. A sob was stuck in your chest.

“Don’t do this to me, Aemond, please,” you continued to beg him. “Have mercy on me.”

“I will not grant you mercy, for it is not yours to be begged for.” His cold tone gave you goosebumps. This cool anger could strike fear in the heart but not in yours. To you, it was comforting - like leaning against a cold wall in the heat of summer. “You’re mine,” he whispered, droning out the last word. “You’re mine as I am yours. If you wish to die, you will have to take me with you. If you wish death on anyone, my hands will be yours.”

Gently, you held his wrists. You were unsure whether to keep his hands on your cheeks or to pry him away from you. It was quite clear that the longer you remained in Aemond’s grasp, the less willpower you had. Truly, he could simply stand in your vicinity and gain control over you with nothing more but a stare or a mischievous half-grin.

“I can’t kill you, Aemond. I couldn’t even kill myself.”

He tilted his head backwards enough to look straight into your eyes. Your noses were brushing against one another.

“Then ask me to kill Davros.”

“I can’t, it’s-”

“Ask me,” he demanded. The cold blue of his iris stared through you, gazing into the marrow of your bones, the very fibre of your spirit. 

To be precise, Aemond wasn’t asking your permission. No, his goal was quite more sinister. He was going to kill Davros anyway. What he craved was absolution - if he committed a sin in the name of love, not hate, was it truly a sin? Was he not akin to a saint if he slew out of devotion?

“Help me,” you whispered, barely audibly.

His lips softly pecked your forehead. Aemond found some wicked satisfaction in seeing you so broken and desperate. The vulnerability hidden under your resolve was for his eye only. Only his ears will hear your whispered pleas. He was a cruel man and he could use this weakness for malice. You, well-aware of his dreadful character, ripped your heart open just for him. It was proof enough that your love for him was equally mad.

“You’re mine, my love,” he whispered into your ear. “And I will do horrible things just to remain yours.”

Aemond Targaryen was black of heart and he knew it. There was no doubt about it. He always thought that being loved would mend his cruelty, that it would fix whatever was broken inside him. It did no such thing to him, quite the contrary - it made him indulge in the most unspeakable of fantasies. He should feel ashamed, shouldn’t he? But Aemond knew no such emotion when you trembled against him, your salty tears wetting the pads of his fingers.

‘Shame is for good, honest men,’ he thought. ‘They feel ashamed because they know right from wrong. I only know her.’

Tonight, the venomous viper will meet a fire-breathing dragon, only to learn that its venom and fangs are useless against the beast of legends.

[ghostinboys]

benedictus benedicat

summary: you have always wanted to fuck a gladiator pairing: emperor geta x male reader x lucius verus word count: 2k warning: male reader smut!

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You awoke to snakes of warmth slithering around your body. You soon realized that they were the limbs of countless naked men and women. 

It was routinary for the new royalty of Rome to place feasts in times of great victory and conquest to expand the empire. In the morning, there would be feasts of the most exotic fruits and viands the colonies could produce, wine would flow down cups as if it were from the Nile.

At night, however, there would be the feasts of flesh. The most elite and expensive whores would be brought to the palace for a night full of sex and wine, a feast that you have frequented at the request of the Emperor. 

The older emperor had always sought your company, especially during trying times. He would always look at you with his golden eyes. His pale hands are at your neck, and there are gold rings of many different colored jewels. He loved to use you, taking hours of thrusting and licking. You watched as his younger brother would go through many different men and women every night — but the older emperor took his time on using you, only you. 

Many of the elite members of the parties would try to come to you, old greying men of the senate glancing at you as you rode the golden emperor. At times, they would try to touch you, tug on your arm or your hair. The emperor was quick to scold them, threatening their lives for even laying a finger on you. You felt special, like a hero from an old myth defending his muse. 

You stood to see him near the window overlooking the Colosseum, sunlight casting a ray against his fiery hair. He was naked, his pale yet muscular body reflected light like quartz. He was much taller than his twin, and broader than the younger emperor who was scrawny. He flinched when he heard you come near. 

“Did I startle you, sire?” you said. Wrapping a silk blanket around your body. 

He shook his head, his eyes glazing down your frame. He gestured for you to come closer. He had always stood out from anyone in the room. His eyes were stained with red powder and his lips plump and pink. He took the robe off of you, his hand on your neck forcing you to look up at him.

“How many times have I spoken to you about covering yourself?” he said, his thumb rubbing on your lower lip. “Never be ashamed of your body my little dove.”

“Forgive me, sire—” you uttered before he pressed his lips on yours. It tasted of wine, his tongue toying with yours. His other hand snaked around your back before falling against your ass. His lips soon find your neck, each kiss deep and wet. You stare at the Colosseum behind him, in awe of its grand architecture. 

Emperor Geta stopped his wet “trail against your skin. He followed your gaze, a smile forming against his lips. “Have you ever been with a gladiator, little dove?” he said. 

“I have always been with you, sire,” you said. “but the idea does strike me.” you smiled.

“Then return to my chambers tonight,” he said, slipping a finger inside your mouth. He pressed against your shoulders forcing you down on your knees. You looked up at him with his erection teasing centimeters away from your lips. You licked his tip and slowly engulfed his hardness. He moaned and raked his hand through your hair. His little dove. 

The night was cold and dry. A  guard had led you to the Emperor’s chambers, a large room adorned with gold treasures. His bed was the biggest you have ever seen, draped in the whitest silks, and his nightstand was littered with coins and gold cups. Your eyes wandered to look for your golden emperor. He stood at the corner near the window, his shoulders draped in the finest toga. 

“My little dove,” he said, his eyes gleaming. In his hands were two cups, one for himself and one he handed over to you. You took a sip and let the bitter red liquid drip down your throat. “I have a gift for you.”

“A gift? My sire, I am unworthy,” you said. He gestured for his guards. They brought in a man cloaked in a ragged robe, torn and dirty. He was large, larger than you and the emperor, his figure cast a shadow against the flames and candles. 

“I have brought you,” he said, walking towards the man. “A gladiator.” He pulled off the hood to reveal a gladiator you have seen fight in the arena. He was tall and broad, more muscular than the emperor, his body was littered with cuts and scars, his chest more hairy and his beard unkempt. A red piece of cloth bound his eyes and wrists. He unrobed the man until he was wearing nothing but a piece of tunic and a blindfold. The man flinched, his breathing heavy. 

Geta sat on a chair near the bed, legs crossed and cup still in hand. You inched near the gladiator, your hands touching his sun-kissed skin. It was warm, sweat dripping down his nape. He smelled of ash and smoke. “He was given wine sourced from Asia, they say that it is infused with flowers that would provide a person with intense lust—a madness that renders them more beast than man,” Geta said. “Go on, have your fill. I am only here to watch.”

“Fascinating,” you whispered. You gently pushed him on the bed before pulling the tunic, his cock standing tall and thick, the tip leaking. You went down on your knees to take it inside your mouth. Your jaw ached from the girth. He writhed and cursed before grabbing your head and pushing you down with force. You gagged from the sudden motion, your eyes tearing. He fucked your mouth like a raging animal, stroking his cock with your mouth. His grip on your hair was tight and painful. 

“Take it, whore.” he said, his voice deep and gravelly.

Geta watched amused. His free hand toyed with the wine while another palmed his growing hardness. The gladiator let go of your head, and you gasped for air, drooling and panting. He rips off your tunic before pushing you down the bed. He spits on his hand before toying with your hole, he was rough and callous, a stark difference from the gentleness of the emperor. He pushed his thick cock deep into your hole, and you shouted from the stinging pain. He fucked you repeatedly until your knees and arms gave out. Soon, the thick manhood thrusting deep inside you brought pleasure throughout your body, you writhed and moaned, your cock rubbing against the silk. 

You gripped the sheets so tightly you could feel the soft fabric rip. Strong blows of force slammed against your hips as you clamored for air and release. You looked up to gain sight of the emperor. He stared at you with eyes filled with wanton lust. He spat on his palm and continued to stroke his aching cock. 

“Stop,” you hear the emperor's command. “Take your cock out, gladiator.” 

The gladiator grunted, easing up and taking his hardness out of your hole. You collapsed on the mattress panting and tired. You feel Geta’s ringed fingers smooth your hair. He gestures for you to look up, his golden eyes are now large pits of black. 

He bends down to kiss you, his tongue tastes of bitter wine. He gestures for the gladiator, he is glistening in sweat and smells like a day’s work. Geta grabs your hair and pushes it down the gladiator’s cock, pushing and pulling your head to stroke the warrior’s aching hardness. The emperor unclasped his tunic, and layers of gold cloth fell on the floor. You take his cock in your hands, stroking the pale cock while you sucked on the warrior. 

You took turns sucking on their cocks. Geta taking a hand and endlessly slapping your ass till it turned red. “What a greedy slut you are, my little dove,” said Geta. “as if taking a royal cock was not enough, you had to turn yourself into a common whore for a gladiator.”

You hummed on their cocks, your mouth too filled taking each cock in alternate strokes to even say a word. “Go on then gladiator, take his ass and fuck your fill,” he said in a snobbish tone. The gladiator went to the bed to take his place, going down to lick your aching hole. His beard was rough against your cheeks, but the wet licks he left on your hole made your legs shake and go weak. His hands gripped your ass, kneading the fatty flesh as he lapped on the hole he was soon to fuck. 

You soon felt the gladiator slowly sheath his big cock back into your hole. You wanted to gasp but Geta’s cock was still in your mouth. They both fucked into your holes, gaining some sort of non-verbal message to fuck you in the same rhythm. It was too much, you thought, your mouth and your ass getting fucked by large cocks. Your eyes were rolling to the back of your head, your knees weak while your shoulders trembled trying to have some balance. 

“Fuck—I’m close,” Geta moaned. “Go on gladiator, fill that hole with your seed. I shall do the same to his mouth.”

The room was filled with symphonious moans and grunts accompanied by loud slaps of flesh. You could feel the gladiator's breath on your nape, his large arms hugging you as he thrust even more. He takes your leaking cock in his hands, the pre-cum dripping down your shaft providing enough lubrication to make his strokes slip. 

Their breaths became labored, Geta whispered a thousand curses while the gladiator spoke in a language you could not understand. You were close, your climax teasing at your tip. Your whole body convulsed as you reached your high. Geta came into your mouth, leaving a loud grunt before pulling away. The gladiator hugged you tighter as he came, emptying his warmth inside you. 

Geta called for a bath, leaving you and the gladiator in bed. You stared at his body in slumber. He was handsome, you thought, full brows, a Grecian nose, and a body packed with dense muscle. You tried to touch his chest before his hand swiftly caught it. 

“I have no intention of hurting you,”  you said. “Are you okay? Do you still feel feverish?

“I should be the one asking you that question,” he sat down on the bed, a piece of cloth covering his groin. “I didn’t know what came over me, I’m sorry.”

You chuckled, his face dumbfounded. “You think you’re the first person to fuck me like that?” 

He chuckled as well, running a hand through his damp hair. 

“And so the mighty gladiator laughs? I thought if you even smiled a little your face would crack,” you said, his smile dropped garnering a bigger laugh from you. 

“Tease me again and I might just fuck that laugh away from you.”

“Yeah? Maybe I should tease you more then,” you said seductively before straddling his muscular thighs. You traced your hands on his muscles, his cock growing hard underneath you once more. 

“I dare you,” he said, pressing his lips against yours. 

if you likes this fic go check out some of my other stuff! want to request? don't be shy to send one!

[hcneymooners]

⋆ up until the very last ember of my heart extinguishes, i will be thinking of you.

dj!mel x best friend!fem!reader. men & minors dni.

synopsis: you & mel have always been thick as thieves, and things have yet to change. but lately, you've been thinking of mel differently and, well—maybe you want more. cw: dj!mel, best friend!reader, female!reader, no age gap i fear, you guys are in your twenties, modern!au, resolved sexual tension, pining, friends to lovers, clubbing, not actually unrequited love, explicit sexual content, dom!mel, sub!reader, lowkey y'all are switches, wall sex, tender sex, vaginal fingering, edging, cunnilingius, oral sex (r!receiving), couch sex, mel is actually insane about you, obsession, possessive behavior, squirting, face riding, pet names, you guys are very soft for each other.

notes: i love her so much guys; i'm gonna be sick. hope you enjoy. this is really rough for my first time back in a while but it is what it is, hmm?

“you’re loyal to her. i’ve never gone a night without seeing you here.”

the words are screamed directly into your ear and you stumble a bit, already off kilter thanks to the lychee martinis you’ve been sipping since the beginning of the evening. the world is beautiful like this: slurred into soft strobes of turquoise, gold, green that caress the sweaty gleaming bodies of the people spinning within it. the set for tonight is still danceable but decidedly slower than usual, honing in on the loneliness and escapism other people may desire on valentine’s eve.

you blink blearily at the girl vibrating next to you. she shakes with a jitter you know belongs either to ketamine or cocaine—or perhaps both. ck-ing was a popular method of dressing up a club night in london. you stop swaying to the beat, body still as you focus on her completely. mel once told you that this was your pull—this ability to make whomever was in front of you feel as though they were the most important thing in the world to you.

“sorry, what?” you finally push out.

“mel,” the girl shouts again, gesturing to the stage way up front. “whenever she’s performing, you’re here!”

you glance up at the woman in question, face softening as you watch the way her body flows into her highly practiced routine of dance. tonight the movements are more minimal, courtesy of her dress—a masterpiece of fanned peacock feathers that catch and scatter light with every subtle movement. the feathers are arranged in a mesmerizing spiral from the jeweled clasp beneath her arm, each eye seeming to watch the crowd as she moves. it's shorter than her usual style, ending mid-thigh in a flutter of iridescent tips that make her look like some rare, exotic bird. every time the bass drops, the feathers tremble in response, creating a hypnotic dance of green-blue shadows across her skin.

it’s not typical for a dj-ing outfit, but mel has cemented herself as a rich girl with a talent. everyone knows who she is, who her mother is. they love that she comes down to their level during the weekends, covers herself in glitter and spins together a beat like some kind of opulent spider.

"yeah," you shout back, your voice still managing to sound tender. "she's my best friend."

the words feel both true and incomplete in your mouth - they always do. you've been "best friends" since you quite literally crashed into her at university, spilling your coffee all over her white hermès sweater. instead of the fury you'd expected, she'd laughed, dragged you shopping for a replacement, and somehow ended up buying you three sweaters instead.

that was mel all over: excessive, generous, impossible to refuse.

"lucky!" your momentary friend shouts back and your mouth dips into a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes.

lucky. right. lucky to be the one who holds her hair back after bad nights, who listens to her practice sets until dawn, who knows exactly how she likes her tea when she's stressed (earl grey, splash of oat milk, two sugars). lucky to be the one who gets to love her from this careful distance, never quite close enough to risk everything.

the girl disappears into the crowd, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the music again. mel's current track winds down, bleeding into something slower, more haunting. you recognize it immediately—it's one of her original pieces, the one she'd made you listen to first, cross-legged on her bedroom floor at 3 am, her face anxious and hopeful in the low light.

the memory makes your chest ache. up on stage, she's different from that vulnerable version of herself. her movements are precise and controlled, even in that impossible dress. you watch as she adjusts something on her deck, the feathers shifting across her back like ripples in dark water. when she reaches up to adjust her headphones, the dress catches the light in a way that makes your breath catch.

you're not the only one watching. the crowd around you is entranced, and you hear snippets of their whispered appreciation. the warmth of your tipsiness is starting to wear off. you’re suddenly so much more aware of yourself, of the differences between you and the luminescent girl on stage.

tonight you’ve chosen a simple black midi dress with a scoop neck that cups your chest gently. the tops of your breasts swell up softly at the mouth of the fabric, gleaming with a golden sheen that could only belong to your beloved diamond shimmer bath and body works mist. your hair has been longer by a copious number of extensions, the bundles pooling together at your lower back. tinsel is strung artfully in-between some strands, a careful layering courtesy of mel.

as you look around at the people around you, you feel boring and a bit underdressed. everyone is suddenly so much cooler than you and the thought brings a rush of warmth to your cheeks, the embarrassment strong in its resurgence. you shift in place as the song changes to something a bit more fast-paced. there’s a chorus of screams, shouts of pleasure, and the floor begins to shake as people flood it to dance. you smile tightly as someone slams into you rather harshly, their apology half-assed and unfocused.

you clutch the top of your mother’s vintage ysl clutch, the chain a bit rusted and the body bulging with a combination of your house keys, your lip combo, some shit from work you didn’t take out in time, and the normally slim body of your phone which as been made bigger by the chunky sides of your artisan bedazzled phone case. the multiple polaroids of you and mel in the back didn’t help the situation in any way, the glossy memories slightly distended by the rolled bills you’ve tucked back there for emergencies.

as you turn to navigate the sudden pit of people, the music lowers just enough so that mel’s soft steady voice bleeds through. the lights flash once, twice, a third time; the bulbs are hot and pink. you know what’s coming, but you still don’t turn around, though your mouth twitches in a smile.

"hey, london," mel croons and the crowd screams back at her, eager to greet the woman soundtracking what is probably just another tuesday evening. "i have a question before i finish up. i don't want to forget."

your heart stutters in your chest. she does this sometimes, turns you into an unwitting participant in her performances. you remember the first time she did it, six months ago, how your knees had gone weak at the way she'd claimed you so publicly, so casually. how dangerous it had felt, how thrilling.

"has anyone seen my girl?"

the crowd goes crazy and you lift a hand to your mouth to hide your smile, heat flooding your cheeks. you hate how easily she can undo you, how these little moments of possession—even if they're just part of her show—make your pulse race. your free hand unconsciously touches the delicate gold chain around your neck—her birthday gift from last year, a tiny hextech crystal pendant that she'd said "reminded her of home."

"i came in with her. you know her, right? gorgeous little thing in a short black dress. kind of looks like…"

you close your eyes, remembering how she'd fussed over you earlier tonight, her fingers gentle as she wove tinsel through your hair. 'perfect,' she'd murmured, her breath warm against your ear, and you'd had to suppress a shiver. now, surrounded by strangers who are about to echo what you've felt for years, the irony isn't lost on you.

she trails off, holds out her mic to a group of girls right below her who giggle out the finishing portion of her sentence.

“…the love of my life!” they sing, drawing out the ‘i’ for a long while.

mel’s laugh echoes through the speakers, the sound throaty and raw. on cue, the music begins: “please don’t be love of my life” by caitvi, (calvin harris mix). they were a rock band that accidentally stumbled into becoming the summer muses for every edm fiend in existence.

you clutch your empty martini glass with a renewed strength, fighting until you manage to clutch a hand on the bar. the bartender smiles at you, complimenting your perfume which you don’t even think is still on your skin. you say thank you anyway, laughing openly as they tease you about your fondness for lychee. you’ve always been this way, you want to say, always holding on to what you know in the hopes that it’ll eventually love you back.

instead, you look over your shoulder at mel’s far off silhouette. there’s a moment where she looks up, seems to look at you. you don’t know if she really sees you, given your distance and the disorienting nature of the club. you smile regardless, raise a hand to wave lightly. the chrome bow on your acrylics flashes meanly, signaling your position.

she looks way, smiles earnestly at the crowd, and you drop your hand. the moment is broken, like always. as you move to pull your refreshed martini by the stem, mel’s dj tag sounds: sounds of birds of paradise, interwoven into one another over a damagingly sad violin sample. it’s her way of letting the people know that this will be her last couple of songs for the evening.

the birds’ calls fade into the melancholy beginning of “healing” by gordo featuring drake. the opening notes reverberate through you and you press your lips together, body thrumming with the effect of being noticed. she had seen you. that was the only reason she was playing this song. it had been your favorite for the past month, and now here it was on blast at one of the most elite clubs in the city.

‘i want to see you dance to this,’ she’d told you one evening, her mouth trailing against your shoulder. you were twisted together in your bed, the blankets plush around you as the two of you shared her airpods. ‘i want to see you have fun, lose yourself.’

‘i can’t lose myself,’ you’d said back, mouth rising in a secretive smile.

mel had lifted your hand teasingly, bit it gently, and then interlinked her fingers with yours.

‘don’t worry. i’ll find you.’

you look back at her, find her leaning over her deck with a finger pressed pensively to her mouth. she quirks an eyebrow and gestures to the crowd, as if asking why you’re not inside of it. you smile despite it all and abandon your martini, wiggling through the gaps of people until you're up front.

the bass drops and the crowd surges forward, but you hold your ground, eyes locked on mel. she's watching you now, really watching you, her movements more deliberate as she works the deck. you recognize this version of the song; it's her own remix, the one she'd been perfecting for weeks in her home studio. she'd added layers of ethereal synths that make it feel like you're floating, like you're the only person in the room who really understands what she's trying to say.

she gestures to her security guard, a subtle movement that you've seen countless times before. within moments, strong hands are parting the crowd, creating a path to the booth. your heart pounds as you're ushered up the steps, into her domain of switches and lights and pulsing energy. the peacock feathers of her dress brush against your arm as she pulls you close, her free hand settling on your waist.

"dance with me," she murmurs into your ear, her voice carrying despite the thundering music. her fingers trace patterns on your hip, and you wonder if she can feel you trembling. "show them what this song was made for."

you let your body move with hers, falling into the rhythm she's created. the feathers of her dress catch the light with each movement, creating a private light show just for the two of you. she keeps one hand on the deck, maintaining the perfect flow of music, but her other hand never leaves your body, guiding you through the dance like she's afraid you might disappear if she lets go.

the crowd below is going wild, but you barely notice them. all you can focus on is the way mel's breath catches when you press closer, the way her fingers tighten on your waist when you roll your hips. the tinsel in your hair catches the light, mixing with the iridescent shimmer of her dress until you're both wrapped in a cocoon of glitter and sound.

"see?" she whispers, and you can hear the smile in her voice. "i told you i'd find you."

the words send a shiver down your spine, and you turn your head slightly, catching her gaze. there's something different in her eyes tonight, something that makes your breath catch in your throat. maybe it's the valentine's eve atmosphere, or maybe it's the way the lights are hitting her face, but for a moment, you let yourself believe that the look she's giving you means what you want it to mean.

she transitions into the next song seamlessly, but keeps you close, as if she's forgotten that this isn't how she usually ends her sets. as if she's forgotten that you're supposed to be just her best friend, watching from the crowd like always. as if, just for tonight, you could be something more.

the spell breaks when you catch a glimpse of your reflection in one of the booth's chrome panels. you see yourself pressed against her, see the way you're looking at her: desperate, obvious, completely transparent. the music suddenly feels too loud, the lights too bright, your skin too tight. you're acutely aware of every place her body touches yours, and it's simultaneously too much and not enough.

"i need—" you start, but can't finish. mel's hand tightens on your waist for a fraction of a second before you pull away. you gesture vaguely toward the floor, not meeting her eyes. "sorry, i just—"

you don't wait for her response, practically stumbling down the booth steps. the crowd that had been watching your dance parts easily, perhaps sensing your urgency. you hear the next dj's tag start to play—some remix of a taylor swift song—which means mel's set is over. which means she might follow you. the thought makes you move faster.

you trip over your feet, your heel catching on the bone of your ankle as it lifts and you fall. your knees crack against the ground, but you regain your momentum. your neck is warm and you lift your hair with one hand as you spin, eventually locating the flickering neon sign denoting the bathroom.

the bathroom is mercifully empty when you burst in, all perfectly-cut marble and deep blue lighting that makes your reflection look expensive and almost admirably tragic. you press your palms against the cool counter, letting your head hang down as you try to steady your breathing. the bass from the club thrums through the walls, muffled but persistent, like a heartbeat.

“you’re always so fucking stupid,” you whisper to yourself, watching a tear splash onto the marble. you'd let yourself get carried away, let yourself pretend. but mel is mel. this is the girl who turns heads when she walks into rooms, who has fashion houses begging to dress her, who could have anyone she wants. and you're just… someone else.

her best friend, you suppose. the girl who’s responsible for holding her hair back when she's sick, who listens to her practice sets, who loves her so strongly that it feels akin to having a spear sunk through your chest.

the bathroom door opens with a soft whoosh, and you know it's her before she speaks. you can smell her perfume. it’s something custom-made in paris, a mix of lily, amber, and caramel. you don't look up.

"hey," mel says softly, and you hear the click of her heels on the marble floor as she approaches. "what happened up there?"

you close your eyes, trying to ignore how the marble feels like ice beneath your palms, how your body still burns where she touched you in the booth. "nothing happened, melly. i just needed some air."

you use your nickname for her as a way to disarm her, but mel has always been immovable when it came to getting something that she wants. the silence that follows feels incredibly long, but you know it hasn’t even been ten seconds. you lean forward, splash water on your face. blindly, you search for a paper towel but you’re handed a small hand towel instead. your makeup transfers onto the fabric, staining it with the traces of your exhaustion and loneliness.

"[name], look at me." her voice is gentle but firm, the same tone she uses when she knows you're lying. when you don't move, you hear her sigh, the sound followed by the soft rustle of feathers. then her hand is on your shoulder, turning you around.

she's closer than you expected, close enough that you can see the individual glitter particles scattered across her collarbones, catch the faint sheen of sweat at her temples from performing. the peacock dress seems alive in the bathroom's soft lighting, each feather shifting with her breath. you try to step back, but the counter prevents your retreat.

"you were crying," she observes, reaching up to brush her thumb beneath your eye. her touch lingers longer than necessary, and you hate how your body betrays you, leaning into her hand like a flower seeking sun. "why were you crying?"

"i wasn't," you lie, even as another tear escapes. "it's just the vodka. you know how i get."

"yeah," she says, and now both her hands are cupping your face, forcing you to meet her gaze. her eyes are dark, intent, stripped of their usual playful gleam. "i know how you get when you're drunk, and this isn't it. this is something else."

you try to laugh but it comes out choked. "melly, please—"

"when you were up there with me," she interrupts, one hand sliding down to rest against your neck, her thumb pressed gently against your pulse point, "what were you thinking about?"

the question hangs between you, heavy with possibility. you can feel your heartbeat racing beneath her thumb, wonder if she can feel it too. the bathroom suddenly seems smaller, the air thicker. somewhere outside, the music has changed to something slower, more intimate. the bass line crawls up through the floor and into your bones.

this is how love always finds you, corners you. it's a snake that's flat enough to slide underneath the door. you always watch it passively as it slides up your body, only crying out when it bites.

"i was thinking," you start, then stop, swallowing hard. her eyes track the movement of your throat. "i was thinking about how great you were tonight, how—how beautiful you are. ‘nd i was thinking about how some things can look real without being real. like stage lights. or club nights. or best friends who—"

you cut yourself off, but her grip on your neck tightens slightly, just enough to make your breath catch. the feathers of her dress brush against your thighs, a whisper of sensation that makes you shiver.

"or best friends who what?" she prompts, her voice low, almost dangerous. she's close enough now that you can feel her breath against your lips, can smell the champagne she'd been sipping between sets.

the door to the bathroom opens, the sound of the club surging in, and you both freeze. mel doesn't move away, doesn't drop her hands. instead, she leans closer, her lips brushing your ear.

"we're not done with this conversation," she murmurs, the words a promise that distills heat through your body. "come on."

she pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, and the look in hers makes your knees weak. you open your mouth to respond, but—

the bathroom door swings shut again, leaving you both in that suspended moment. your "okay" comes out barely above a whisper, but she hears it. of course she hears it. she’s always heard you, even when you chose not to speak.

♤

the ride home is thick with unspoken words.

mel's driver, marcus, keeps his eyes professionally forward as you slide into the back of the bentley, the leather seats cool against your bare legs. mel follows, close enough that the feathers of her dress spill over onto your thigh. neither of you speak, but her pinky finger finds yours in the darkness between your bodies, hooking together like you used to do in university when one of you needed grounding.

london slides past the tinted windows in a blur of neon and shadow. you watch the reflections of passing streetlights play across mel's profile, catching the sharp edge of her jaw, the elegant line of her neck. she’s removed her performance jewelry, but missed a spot of glitter near her ear. without thinking, you reach up to brush it away.

she catches your wrist before you can retreat, her thumb pressing into your pulse point again. the car feels smaller in a matter of minutes, the air between you charged with electricity. she turns to fully face you, bringing your hand up to her mouth so that she can slide your pointer finger into her mouth. the suck of her lips is gentle, tender. you watch her head bob as she slides down further, then pulls off.

she doesn't let go of your wrist for the rest of the ride.

when the car pulls up to her mayfair townhouse, you feel like you're moving through a dream. the click of her heels on the steps echoes in the quiet street. to you, they're like gunshots and you have the irrational thought of the neighbors coming out to complain, to tell you that your desire is choking them in the same way you feel now. your own steps are less sure, thanks to the martinis and the way your whole body seems to be humming with anticipation.

she fumbles with her keys briefly, something you've never seen her do, and then you're inside. the door closes behind you with a soft click that seems to echo in the darkness. neither of you move to turn on the lights. the moonlight filtering through her floor-to-ceiling windows is enough to see by, casting everything in shades of silver.

she looks unreal, like a figment of your imagination. you pinch the inside of your thigh, letting out a hiss of air from in-between your teeth. she moves closer, fingers the indentation where your nails had dug into the skin.

you shake, but she only steadies you.

"melly," you start, but she shakes her head, settling both hands on your waist.

gently, she maneuvers you until your back meets the wall. a hand lifts to settle at the base of your neck, her lithe fingers threading into your hair so that she can cup the back of your head. she’s making sure your head doesn’t hit the stone, sacrificing her own skin to ensure your comfort. the thought makes you warmer than before.

mel watches your face, her eyes almost erratic as she searches for whatever sign she needs. she comes flush against you and your legs part instinctively to make room for her, spread to accommodate the whole of her.

she lowers her head, mouth coming to burn against your neck as she presses a kiss there. you let out a small, weeping sound as if her lips have enabled a release inside of you. in a way they have. you soften, melt into her and find the strength to touch her.

your hands grasp at mel’s neck and she hums in satisfaction, working her teeth into the meat of your neck like a vampire. she pulls back only to look down, freeing a hand from your waist to inch the hem of your dress up.

you moan brokenly as you grow more exposed, your cunt wet against the baby blue lace that holds it. the moonlight sneaks between the both of you and renders the fabric practically translucent, the blue so light in its glow that it seems closer to white.

“you’re so beautiful, baby,” mel whispers and you blink at her, your throat tight. “you always say it about me, and i never understand it. when i look at our pictures, i don’t see anyone else.”

your eyes slip low, going tender, and you cup her face.

“you’re perfect, mel.”

“i guess we’re a good match,” she murmurs and then she’s in you.

the motion is so smooth, so quick. you hadn’t realized she’d peeled the fabric of your panties back, pushed them to the side. you know nothing now except for the steady pump of her fingers. there are two working deep into the heart of you, searching and spreading your slick heat.

you cry out, eyes wide like a doe’s. mel only smiles, predatory and slow. her teeth gleam, two rows of perfect pearls. you feel out of your body, but she brings you back in with every stroke inside of you. her breathing is becoming heavy, labored. her eyes seem a little wild and the hand on your neck moves briefly to squeeze tightly at your waist until you let out a deep “unh.”

mel grins again at the sound and it makes you surge forward, crushing her mouth into a bruising kiss. you bite at her bottom lip until she opens and lets you in, your tongue lapping all over as if to consume her. she slips a third finger inside of you, curling at the walls of your cunt to make you clench down.

you continue to kiss her, tilting your head so that angle is better. you slot together perfectly and she moans into your mouth, increasing the speed of her thrusts. you break away from her and study her face, taking in the way her lip gloss is smeared wickedly around her mouth. her lips are swollen and dark and she takes one in between her teeth as she works deeper into you.

your head falls back and she returns her hand to the nape of your neck, catching you before you can hit the wall.

“you’re okay, mama,” she murmurs and you nod, eyes focused somewhere distant on the ceiling.

she knows how you get, how disassociative you can become when you’re overwhelmed with emotion. she watches as you go somewhere she’s unable to follow. your chest heaves with every exhale and she leans forward to press a kiss to the top of your tits, then another right in the middle of them. her mouth is dusted with glitter when she pulls away.

you fuck down on her hand, an animalistic moan crawling from somewhere deep in your chest. mel fucks you harder, grunting as she shifts you bodily up and down with the effort. you keen as she uses her thumb to rub your clit, the circles tight and concentrated. pleasure arcs white and hot up your spine and you close your eyes, mouth falling open silently.

“that’s it,” she says. “come on, baby. come on.”

“mel,” you gasp and she laughs lowly.

“what happened to melly?” she teases and you whine, a foot kicking out as she presses against your g-spot.

“melly, please,” you whisper. “fuck, please.”

“please what?”

"just please.”

nothing changes. she only watches you squirm and beg like a whore, her face impassive. it was moments like these where you were reminded of her mother. the thought sends another shot of arousal to your cunt and it drools down mel’s wrist, sticky and warm.

“mel, fuck. fuck, i can feel it. i’m almost—i’m right there. just please, baby.” you’re crying now, disoriented and breaking apart with every push of her fingers. “please. please, melly, please."

you drag your eyes from the ceiling to her face, your pupils dilated and bright like stars. her face suffers through a range of emotion before she curses and yanks her fingers out of you.

“no,” you sob, and she sushes you.

“just hang on a minute, mama. hold on,” she soothes, her hands coming to lift you from beneath your thighs.

mel moves quickly and you take comfort in the fact that she needs this as much as you do.

you find yourself draped over the couch, your stomach resting on the arm of the chair. there’s a slight application of pressure as mel forces you into an arch, your ass and cunt pushed up. she nudges your legs apart and then gets on her knees, her hands coming to rest on the back of your thighs as she leans in and puts her mouth on you.

“oh,” you moan and she hums into you.

she’s methodical and precise, her tongue slipping into the mix and filling you as best she can. her pace increases as she licks you front to back, twisting so she can suck and nip on your clit. you let out a high mewl as she grips the plush flesh of your ass, rocking you slowly until you’re able to continue the rhythm on your own.

the heat returns, spirals up from your stomach into your chest and throat. you whimper, letting your head fall forward and down. your eyes squeeze shut as you focus on riding her face, swiveling your hips in small circles to better grind your clit against her nose.

again you can feel it, that call to somewhere distant. mel feels the way you tighten around her tongue, the sudden stiffening of your thighs. she knows you’re just there, right at the golden gate of your private paradise so she removes her mouth and focuses completely on stimulating your clit with her fingers.

“mel,” you breathe. “melly—”

“i know, mama. you can do it. cum on my face. cum all over me, princess. mess me up, hmm?”

you reach down and she reaches up, instinctively understanding what you’re aching for. just as your fingers intertwine, you fall apart. your arch drops and mel hums, closing her eyes as you squirt over her. she can feel you trembling and she opens her mouth lazily, letting your cum drip into it as if it was some sort of sacred rain.

her fingers lace with yours properly now, no more tentative pinky holds. you grip back with the strength of a soldier at war, your eyes rolling shut as you hump against her face and ride out your high. mel only lets you use her, dragging her other hand down to grope at her throbbing pussy.

eventually, you settle and she tugs you down so that you’re sitting dazed and lax in her lap. her hands squeeze your ass as she noses at your cheek, slipping a light kiss onto your cheek.

"hey. hey, baby, look at me. are you with me?”

“ye—yeah,” you get out. “‘m with you.”

“let’s go upstairs," she says softly, and it's not quite a question. "unless—"

"yes," you interrupt, squeezing her hand. "yes."

mel makes no move to get up, however, and you watch her face.

“melly?”

"i need you to know," she says, a hand coming up to trace your jawline, "that whatever happens next… this isn't just because. this isn't just because we were dancing, or drinking, or—"

"i know," you whisper, even though you don't, not really. but you want to believe. god, how you want to believe.

mel shifts, tilts you so that you’re on your back. her braids have fallen from her signature bun, and they block out the little light spilling in from the window.

“baby, i want you. i love you, i need you, and i can’t—i can’t tell you enough how much i’ve wanted this. nothing matters to me more than you.”

“i know, melly. trust me, i understand.”

she shakes her head, opens her mouth. you lift a hand, dig your nails into the sides of her throat as you clutch at it for just one second.

“i understand.”

it feels like she’s been the only thing on your mind since the day you were born. you’ve been waiting for her ever since.

© hcneymooners.

⚚ wife tag: @s-4pphics

[grenadehearts]

boyfriend!suguru who takes your hair care very seriously, shampooing it in the steaming hot shower as his long, soft fingers knead into your scalp, lathering the rose shampoo with warm, aphrodisiac notes of tonka that left him kneeling at your feet ever since he inhaled that intoxicating scent, determined to chase you down, demanding what shampoo you used, but so shocked to meet  a beautifully cruel face, framed by dark tendrils, that smelt like secrets he should never know.

boyfriend!suguru who holds you steady with his large hand, wrapping you in a towel and rubbing an Oribe hair mask into your long locks. He knows every hair care tip and trick in the book due to his long, cascading, straight locks that flow down his muscular-toned back, that you can never help pulling and fisting when he's buried deep inside your sopping cunt, and don't even get me started when he's lapping up your spoils like a man starved, face suffocated by your thighs, only tasting your sweet nectar, as you fist and dig at his scalp, only egging him on, the scent of roses  now mingling with the musky tang of sex. (as soon as he met you he ran out to buy the exact shampoo you used, although he thinks it smells best on you..)

boyfriend!suguru who rinses and dries your hair so delicately, his often cruel hands so gentle when it reaches your scalp, he's always idling, playing with a strand of your hair, twisting and curling the lengths between his long fingers, his face often buried into your silky hair, inhaling that damned scent, that sent him straight to the altar. 

boyfriend!suguru who drains his bank account for an assortment of the most expensive hair care products, ranging from exotic shampoos, masks, and oils, special bamboo brushes—you name it, he has it, displayed like precious family jewels.

boyfriend!suguru who every night without fail, no matter how tired he is, his eyelids drooping, threatening to close, will always have you sit in front of him as he delicately brushes your hair a couple of times for good luck (he's a bit superstitious) and then with nimble fingers and a fervent touch will braid your strands, before oiling the ends. As he lays his weary head in the crook of your neck, your hair soft and warm against his face, like a warm blanket enveloping him in your sweet heat, as he tiredly leaves tiny yet sloppy kisses onto your neck and lower earlobe, the lingering shampoo fragrance hanging in the air.

authors note: masterlist here .. p.s did u guys get the vision bf geto who loves hair care and his way of showing love being that like omg??/

[inanaincarneetinsidus]

Purva Ashada, the power to invigorate

In the heart of the Sagittarius, Purva Ashada “the former invincible one” is the 20th nakshatra. Number that reflects the complete, all embracing and triumphant nature of the feminine. 2 is the goddess, the vesica piscis from which emerges the Yoni. 0 is completion, concealment of all endless and infinite possibilities of creation.

The deity of Purva Asada is Apas, goddess of Water, giving the nakshatra another name “Aparajita”.

Apas and Aphrodite have the same root and exist in the same watery context as the latter was born from the cutting of Uranus genitals, in the middle of the foaming ocean.

Purva Ashada as the last Venus ruled nakshatra and the pinnacle of Venusian energy, exposes the refined mysteries of the planet.

Venus comes from the latin Vincire “To bind, To Chain” Venus is the force that binds together. As her power beauty exercise magnetism, pulling in with the power of suggestion.

Venus is a cercle on top of a cross, the cross represents suppliance and being bound to earthly matters (Virgo) while the cercle on the top is harmonization and completion, in this symbolism lies the power of the Goddess as a beautiful woman, she is the one that make Earthly life enjoyable. As Kama Rupa, she is the vehicle of desires and passions. She invades the senses: tasting delicious foods, smelling exotic flowers, touching expensive materials, experiencing her immense charm and beauty that leads to love making which results in the downwards flow of spiritual energy keeping one bound to Earth.

Venus is the force of Attraction and in Purva Ashada, magnetism is at its peak. The handheld fan as one symbol of Purva Ashada perfectly illustrates the seduction that takes place in this asterism, Attraction is always maintained in the exchange by the covering of the face, creating a distance that sustains tension.

It’s in the fiery pit of Sagittarius that lies the watery Purva Ashada, While Apas is the cosmic ocean, her name signifies “yagna karma” which is sacrificial deeds as Sagittarius is the one that burns away the old by first finding the root (mula) before taking the journey to immortality. In Purva ashada, the former invincible one, Venus’s role as the elixir of immortality is evident, she is Aphrodite and Mohini in charge of the preparation of Ambrosia or Amrita, a liquid as Barbara G Walker describes it made up of her period blood and honey.

Opposite to Sagittarius sits Gemini, the first Mercurial sign which is the birth of Alchemy as Hermes is himself the father of the discipline, and the life-giving waters of Purva Ashada under Venus are the most sought-after key to everlasting life contained in the womb.

In Greek mythology, the gods were reliant on the “supernatural red wine” dispensed by Mother Hera in her virgin form as Hebe. Menstrual blood was regarded as the source of life:“Human life is made of a coagulum of period blood” by Aristotle and Pliny called Period blood the ‘material substance of generation’.

Here the shakti of Purva Ashada is revealed to invigorate means to ingest life (vigour), Venus in her pinnacle: Purva Ashada connects to the star in the tarot deck as she is the cosmic woman hydrating the soil with her cosmic waters. As the star she has already reached immortality, sitting in the dark cushion of space sparkling, she allows men who drinks from her to reach her stage of Goddess.

Songs that encapsulate the nature of Venus in Purva Ashada:

- The Chain by Fleetwood Mac with Stevie Nicks who is Purva Ashada moon

-Bootylicious by Destiny's Childs again Stevie Nicks made the riff

-I feel love, Donna Summers

[thiefcatmoth]

pac: what energy should you try to connect with?

general reading. pick a pile, listening to your intuition. if nothing resonates, leave this pac behind.

pile 1

you should try turning to the light. you can hang a suncatcher in the room, put a mirror or a prism that will direct the rays of light to the place where you are resting. if you like clear weather, you can sunbathe, squinting like a cat. if you like stormy weather, pay attention to lightning - its dance is mesmerizing, and perhaps you will find in it the very sign intended for you. and if you are a supporter of urbanism rather than nature, you can choose a calming night light for yourself or hang a garland in the room to watch the blinking lights.

pile 2

communication with the earth may suit you. if you like plants, immerse yourself in caring for them, try to find that flower or tree that you enjoy caring for. if you don't really like gardening, you can take a walk in the park or forest to just touch the earth, feel it with your fingers, you can even collect a handful to take with you. collecting herbarium or dried flowers may help you relax. or maybe you can find balance while working with clay during handicrafts?

pile 3

air can help you ease emotional wounds and find self-love. if you haven't tried it yet, you should try aromatherapy. aromas can help you manage your emotions and influence your state, even inspire you. in order to always have a piece of this with you, choose an aroma pendant or make a talisman with a drop of your favorite essential oil or oil perfume. listen to the songs of the wind, let the wind touch your skin, feel the freedom and let yourself go, like a gust of air.

pile 4

it seems to me that water, especially falling water, will be your helper. waterfalls and fountains will cleanse you and give you fortitude, watching the running water is very calming. try to catch falling raindrops and plunge your whole being into the downpour. let your feelings and thoughts flow freely. and if there is no opportunity to touch the elements, you can simply take a shower - running water, shower streams, drops of water from the tap will affect you no less. exhale and allow yourself to be cleansed.

pile 5

perhaps this will seem strange to you, but try to turn to lithotherapy - and do it in the semi-darkness. you do not need light to feel the texture of stones, their weight, temperature, feel the shape and size. surrender to touch and simply explore the world. if possible, make an amulet for yourself from a stone or with some stone elements, and when you feel anxious, touch the amulet. study the stones, spot which one suits you bes, and add it to your life - in jewelry or as a talisman under your pillow.

pile 6

even if you've never liked listening to music, turn to sounds. almost everything has sound. you can hear your breathing, the heartbeat of a loved one, the ticking of a clock, the beat of drums, chants, the rustling of leaves… pay special attention to rhythmic sounds that you can follow, turning off your vision and all other senses. any sounds can help you concentrate, calm down, sense danger in advance. even if you like the most exotic sound like, you know, thunder, you can always devote at least a couple of minutes to it alone with yourself, using your headphones.

thanks for the reading!

dividers by @strangergraphics-archive, all images are not mine

[intuitively-her]

You've been through many trials and tribulations that have only made you stronger! I'm getting specifically that you don't look like the things you've been through. From the outside, you actually look perfect, or your lifestyle does. People would never know the sacrifices it took for you to get here though. Most people wouldn't have even made it through some of the obstacles that you've faced. I also get the vibe that you're very reserved with your energy. Kinda like you don't speak unless spoken to. Not in a bad way though. You could be an ambivert. ENTJ? INFJ? You don't have to do the most to get attention, it comes natural to you. You know how to stand alone. Never been a "follow the leader" type. Your balance and stability are surprising as well. It could be because of your age. Or maybe you used to live a reckless lifestyle but managed to pull yourself out of it. I feel like you have a tendency to go ghost for awhile, but then randomly pop out on some new sh*t. People can never keep up with you. You're an enigma. It kinda frustrates people tbh.😂 On the flip side, you are very loving to those closest to you. You always trust yourself and follow your heart to wherever it leads you. You are your top priority and will always make sure your cup is full before giving to someone else. If your love is not being reciprocated, then you will simply leave. Your love is intense.❤️‍🔥 You could be a gift-giver or you enjoy doing acts of kindness. You always know what to do/say at the right moment. Lastly, your star qualities are VERY attractive to others.🤩 You're so humble about it too. You could be an influencer or have an active presence on social media. You have a lot of copycats and people that try to emulate your energy. It never really sticks though.

Confirmations: Confident, Intellectual, 777, Sarcastic, Smart-ass, Mixed signals, Intimidating, 1010, Charming, Promiscuous, Friendly, Competitive, Creative

You always find a way to turn your pain into power! It doesn't matter how many hardships you face, you never let it keep you down. You're always onto the next best thing. Always looking towards the future. Someone here likes to take solo-trips often or you enjoy hiking/being in nature. You often come up creative ideas or new ways to make money. Always willing to learn something new. That trait of yours is highly admired by your bosses/higher-ups. You work very well with others. When people work with you, it quite literally increases their luck and money flow. So be mindful of who you share that energy with. You are such a kind and loving individual, even at your lowest. Give yourself more credit boo!❤️ You're very committed to your self-improvement and personal goals no matter what you go through. That's something to be proud of.

Confirmations: Famous, Sexy voice, 111, Friendly, Funny, Someone here has a cat that is very clingy, 444, Pretty skin, Hermoine from Harry Potter, Elusive, Life of the party, Genuine, Beautiful, Seeing 8's everywhere, Someone here owns an exotic animal or you want one

You know how to transmute any negative energy/situation that is sent your way. You are an alchemist. This is my witchy pile.🔮 You like to play fair and see both sides in situations. Very unbiased. However, you'll also put a b*tch in their place if needed. Cause I'm getting that people like to come into your energy to test/bully you for some reason. But you shut that sh*t down real quick.✅ You may be very introverted, or you have this innocent/naive vibe to you. A lot of people blindly trust you. They know you would never try to cross them. You're a big risk taker. You might do something unconventional for work. People love how you march to the beat of your drum always. You might spend a lot of time alone or you keep a close-knit group of friends. You're not afraid to stand alone whatsoever. Nobody can steal your happiness. That is what's most powerful about you.⭐

Confirmations: Genuine, 911, 818, Mysterious, Intoxicating, 717, Witch, Self-absorbed, Pretty eyes, 737, 777, Uptight, Predator, Intellectual, Elusive

You're more than what meets the eye. From the outside, you seem very shy or monotonous even. But you're a true gem baby.💎Your charisma and charm is one of a kind. You stand out without even realizing it. Your wit and sarcasm is very attractive. You have a very unbothered vibe to you. In your own lane, and outta the mix. It makes me think of "Daria". You might go ghost pretty often. You're very big on self-care and your alone time. On the go a lot. ✈️People feel like they can't get ahold of you anymore. You're very focused on self these days. Me vs. me kinda energy. You're a natural creator. Very artistic and out of the box. You might've been this way since childhood. You're often the topic of discussion to those around you. People really enjoy having you around, whether you know this or not. You're a sweetheart once you truly open up. People feel lucky that they took the time to get to know you. You're a true friend.🩷

Confirmations: Clingy, 111, Wife, Light skin tone, 222, One night stand, Player, 999, Mixed signals, Addict, Psychic, Lazy, Outgoing, Eccentric

💖Please do not copy, repost, or steal my work. Thanks!💖

I missed you guyss xx!!🩷🩷🩷

[its-avalon-08]

Ok so this is a bit unique tbh, but can you write a story about being alexandra saint mleux's sister can falling for lando norris??? like you love charles and alex because THEYRE SO CUTE and u end up falling for lando. include alot of fluff anf cuteness. Thanks!

stop it ily so much for this! i adore adore adore charles and alexandra and omg have u seen his recent post? because leo the puppy u are ily so much what the heck! ok so here is my attempt at making this AMAZING request come true!

paddock love (ln4)

⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡

y/n watched with a grin as charles spun her sister alexandra around in a clumsy waltz, their laughter echoing through the posh monegasque apartment. "ugh, you two are giving me cavities," you teased, collapsing onto a plush sofa.

alexandra, cheeks flushed, swatted playfully at charles. "mind you, y/n, you could find yourself a love story in the paddock too, you know."

you scoffed. "yeah, right. like any f1 driver has time for a normal person like me."

suddenly, the apartment door swung open, revealing a grinning lando norris and carlos sainz. "speaking of normal people," lando winked at you, his blue eyes sparkling. "ready for that movie night, y/n?"

your cheeks warmed. lando had been relentlessly charming ever since you'd met at a charity gala a few weeks ago. he always seemed to find a way to compliment your outfit, your laugh, or even just the way you handled a plate of hors d'oeuvres. it was...disarming.

flashback

the air crackled with nervous energy as you nervously adjusted your borrowed gown. attending a charity gala with your sister, alexandra, a rising wag in the f1 world, was exciting, terrifying, and utterly overwhelming. just as you were about to retreat to the bathroom for the tenth time that night, alexandra materialized beside you, a triumphant grin splitting her face.

"there you are! come meet someone," she said, dragging you towards a group where charles leclerc was holding court, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"y/n, this is lando," charles announced, gesturing towards a tall, lanky figure with a mop of floppy brown hair. "lando, this is my amazing girlfriend, alexandra, and her equally amazing sister, y/n."

lando's smile was like sunshine breaking through clouds. his blue eyes crinkled at the corners as he extended a hand towards you. "amazing is definitely the word for it," he said, his voice a charming mix of british and something vaguely exotic. "it's lovely to meet you, y/n."

you felt a blush creep up your cheeks as you shook his hand. his touch sent a jolt through you, a strange combination of warmth and nervous electricity.

"likewise," you stammered, suddenly hyperaware of the borrowed dress that seemed to suddenly itch everywhere.

alexandra, ever the social butterfly, nudged you playfully. "so, y/n, tell lando about your photography!"

you, relieved for the distraction, launched into a passionate explanation of your latest project, a series capturing the hidden beauty of everyday objects. lando listened intently, his head tilted to one side, his gaze flickering between your eyes and the photos you were showing him on your phone.

"wow, this one is incredible," he said, pointing at a shot of a chipped teacup bathed in warm sunlight. "it's like you found magic in the ordinary."

you beamed. "that's exactly what i'm trying to do!"

the conversation flowed easily from there. you discovered a shared love for vintage cameras and a mutual disdain for overcooked canapés. lando, it turned out, was as funny as he was charming, his quick wit leaving you breathless with laughter.

as the night wore on, alexandra and charles discreetly wandered off, leaving you and lando deep in conversation about the perfect lighting for capturing a raindrop mid-fall.

"so," lando said finally, a playful glint in his eyes, "i hear you're a bit of a photography whiz. maybe you could give me some pointers on capturing the perfect pit stop action shot sometime?"

"me? at a race track?" you couldn't help but laugh. the world of formula one seemed about as far removed from your quiet life as possible.

"why not?" lando shrugged, his grin widening. "besides, charles tells me you make a mean cup of tea. maybe a post-race debriefing is in order?"

the invitation hung in the air, a silent dare. you hesitated, then a slow smile spread across your face.

"alright, lando norris," you said, a playful challenge in your voice. "challenge accepted."

flashback ended

"uh, yeah, sure," you stammered, gathering your things. "see you guys later."

alexandra leaned in conspiratorially. "have fun! and y/n?"

you raised an eyebrow.

"don't be afraid to give him a chance. he might surprise you."

the movie night was...something. lando insisted on a ridiculous rom-com, complete with over-the-top declarations of love and pratfalls that had you snorting with laughter. halfway through, he paused the movie, leaning close.

"you have the most incredible laugh," he murmured, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

your cheeks burned. "thanks," you mumbled, looking away.

he chuckled. "is it just the movie, or are you actually starting to blush around me, y/n?"

you swatted him playfully. "maybe a little. but don't get any ideas, lando norizz."

he grinned, unfazed. "ideas are kind of my specialty. so, here's one: how about we ditch this cheesy movie and grab some gelato? my treat, of course."

you hesitated. this was ridiculous. lando norris was a formula one driver, a celebrity living in a world of fast cars and glamorous parties. what did he want with a regular girl like you?

but his smile was so genuine, his eyes so warm, that something inside you melted. "alright," you agreed, a shy smile creeping onto your face.

the gelato shop was a whirlwind of laughter and stolen glances. lando teased you about your ridiculous cone of every flavor imaginable, then pretended to steal a lick. you chased him around the shop, ending up breathless and giggly.

as you walked back to the apartment, the moon casting a silvery glow on the streets, a comfortable silence settled between you. lando stopped, turning to face you.

"you know," he said softly. "you're more fun than any trophy i've ever won."

your heart skipped a beat. he cupped your face gently, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that had escaped your eye. "maybe alexandra was right," he whispered, his lips hovering tantalizingly close.

before you could even think about it, you closed the gap, meeting his kiss halfway. it was soft, playful, filled with the promise of something more.

when you finally pulled away, breathless and exhilarated, lando grinned.

"so," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "does this mean there's a chance for a "normal guy" like me?"

you couldn't help but laugh. "maybe," you teased. "but only if you promise to keep surprising me."

he leaned in again, his voice a husky murmur. "consider it a done deal."

and under the watchful gaze of the moon, a new love story bloomed, a testament to the fact that sometimes, the most extraordinary things can happen with the most ordinary people.

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