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pencil-n-pen · 4 months ago

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YOUNGBLOOD

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆ . ۫ ꣑ৎ . ⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

rafe x fem! black cat! pogue!reader

masterlist | kofi | next part

wc: 9.3k (sorry)

summary: summary: You’re the girl. Every guy who asks you out gets the same answer: No. You don’t do dating anymore. But as your reputation grows, so does the challenge. And when Rafe Cameron gets you in sights, he’s not about to give up.

cw: Rafe and reader are both assholes (hers is justified bc to me women are always correct) but it works out. oh also this one is a little spicy !! ofc not full smut but this is Rafe Cameron we’re talking about i can’t NOT include a LITTLE. ward jumpscare for like two seconds, references to past shitty relationships

tags/tropes: he falls first and harder (seriously he wants her BAD) black cat x doberman, kind of how to lose a guy in 10 days vibes, at first Rafe wants her bc of the challenge but eventually he just WANTS her, mild hurt/comfort, dom! rafe but also he does whatever reader wants (except stop trying to date her)

a/n: in this fic i imagine reader being one of those super fluffy feral black cats and then rafe is this doberman sitting behind her. walk him like a dog sis walk him like a dog

i’m so glad i finally finished this i’ve been writing it for ages but here it is !! hope u guys like it <3

EDIT 2: part two is up you heathens :) (affectionate)

songs i listened to while writing: Youngblood by 5 Seconds of Summer, Meddle About by Chase Atlantic, Champagne Coast by Blood Orange, Salvatore by Lana Del Rey, Brooklyn Baby by Lana Del Rey, Sad Girl by Lana Del Rey, sex money feelings die by Lykke Li, Angel by Massive Attack and Horace Andy

title taken from Youngblood by 5 Seconds of Summer aka this fics anthem

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He meets you in, of all places, a fucking Barnes & Nobles.

There’s one Barnes & Nobles in the entirety of Kildare Island; it’s on the North side.

Rafe is only there because one of Kelce’s current flings is obsessed with reading those smutty books. Race doesn’t get the appeal. Apparently, the fling is at home sick and Kelce wants to get her something to make her feel better.

Rafe and Topper both think the partying might seriously be affecting his brain chemistry.

But anyway, Kelce asked Rafe to help because he’s “got a way with wooing women” and then since Rafe was going he said fuck it and invited Topper, who will surely be the voice of reason in all of this.

(He seriously doubts it, since Topper almost died in a burning building for the sake of his girlfriend, but whatever. Rafe just doesn’t want to deal with pussy-whipped Kelce by himself.)

They’re on their third go around the store and Rafe is beginning to contemplate the pros and cons of just grabbing the nearest book of the shelf and telling Kelce to just fucking pick something when he spots you:

Straining to reach a book on one of the top shelves. Looking perfectly and immaculately delicious.

“Yo,” He smacks Topper’s arm, getting his attention, “Who the hell is that?”

Topper follows his eyeline, landing on you.

“No fucking way, dude. No chance.”

He frowns, turning and looking at Topper, affronted.

Topper shrugs. “No offense, man. I tried once. All the guys in the island got this stupid-ass nickname for her, too.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Mhm. The Pogue Princess. She’s turned down every single guy to ever ask her out. Even the Kooks.”

Rafe snorts. “So she’s arrogant?”

“I wouldn’t call it that. I totally thought she was a bitch when she turned me down, but honestly, it makes sense. People only ask her out because she always says no.”

“So?” He scoffs. “She’s fucking hot. She should be flattered.”

He looks her up and down again. “I’m gonna ask her.”

He can picture it exactly: having the one and only Pogue Princess hanging off his arm. The girl no other guy has banged— she’d be his, and his only. He’d have those lips and that face— he’d have you.

And you’d have him, of course. Not many girls can say that.

“Suit yourself man. Don’t come crying to me when she turns your ass down.”

He strides over to you, sidling up next to you, leaning against the shelf.

“Hey,”

“No.”

He blinks. “What?”

“No. No I don’t want your number, no I don’t want to sleep with you, no I don’t want to go out with you.” You say, not looking over at him once.

“Well, how come, doll?” He says, leaning down a bit so he’s closer to your height. “We could have a good time, you and me.”

“First of all,” You start, pulling a book off the shelf. “It’s a known fact that Rafe Cameron doesn’t date Pogues. Secondly, I can tell you exactly how this relationship would go. We’d date, and then after a few weeks you’d grow sick of my Pogue-ish ways or something like that. We’d break up, and then I would be seen as even more of a social pariah than I am now. I’d be unwelcome in Pogue spaces because I’d forever be the girl who dated Rafe Cameron just to get her heart broken like all the others, and I’m already a stain on this side of the island, but I’m willing to bet your groupies and fanclub would increase their ridicule if I was ever seen here. So no.”

He lets out a low whistle. “You’ve thought this out.”

“No I haven’t. It’s predictable.”

You re-shelf the book you were holding then walk away, stalking deeper into the store.

He looks back at Topper once, flashing his best friend that dangerous smile.

Topper groans in the distance, all too away of the effect a challenge has on Rafe Cameron.

—

You have to say. You’re a little surprised to feel his continued gaze on your back, even more displeased to hear his footsteps trailing behind you.

“You won’t better your chances by annoying me.”

“I haven’t even said anything.”

“You don’t have to,” You slow your walk, reaching out to tap your hand on the spine of a book you’ve been eyeing for awhile. “Your reputation precedes you.”

“And what does my reputation say about me?”

“That you’re an asshole and a heartbreaker,” You turn and look back at him over your shoulder. “You’re not exactly selling me, here.”

Your eyes latch on something tucked under his arm. It’s the two books he saw you eyeing. His gaze catches yours and he gives you a cocky smirk.

You roll your eyes and turn back around. “You’re going to have to try harder than that, Rafe Cameron.”

He trails after you the entire time you’re in the store, picking book after book off the shelf that he sees your eyes even linger on.

“What’s your plan here?” You ask, turning a book over in your hands and scanning the blurb on the back. “Buy the entire store? Woo me with your credit card? You’re not the only guy on the island with a piece of plastic.”

“Pretty sure I’m the guy with the most on his plastic, though.”

You sigh loudly through your nose. “I’m not interested in men who are only interested in me as an object. You want the trophy you get from ‘bagging the Pogue Princess.’ So fuck off.”

You’re so sick of this. Sick of every guy being the same— only being interested in you as an ego boost. No guy has ever been interested in you for you.

And they never will be, so long as you keep turning them down. Every man wants what he can’t have.

“You’re seriously not going to get anything?”

You pause in your storm off, turning around to look at Rafe. “What?”

His arms are laden with a thick stack of books, muscles flexed at the weight of the stack, straining at the sleeve of his t-shirt.

He gestures to the shelves around you. “You must have looked at the entire store. You’re really just going to leave?”

“I’m a Pogue, Rafe. You do the math.”

Your hands clench and unclench on the strap of your bag. You never thought you’d catch the attention of Rafe Cameron. If Sarah’s the Kook Princess, then he’s the Kook Prince. Dating him would give you some major points on the North Side of the Island.

…And ruin your relationship with 90% of the Pogue’s on The Cut.

Besides. Even if you did date him, he would stick around. No way in hell he would. And then you’d be back right where you started.

Your fumbling with your keys out in the small parking lot, groaning as your ancient beater car key once again refuses to turn in the lock when you hear footsteps behind you.

You rub a hand over your face and turn around.

“Can you please leave me alone? Seriously.”

He’s got that stupid smile on his face again and he’s holding something out to you.

A book. Just one.

You take it from his hands cautiously. “You had a whole stack. Why downgrade to just one?”

He clasps his hands behind his back. “Cause you looked at all those other ones once. You stopped at this one three times. Figured you might’ve wanted it.”

You chew your lip. “I’m still not going out with you.”

He shrugs. “Didn’t think you’d change your mind right now.”

He leans down, reaching forward, breath fanning your face. You screw your eyes shut, bracing.

A loud click behind you. He pulls away.

“But you will.”

With that, he turns, walking back into the store. At the doors, he flashes you one last smile.

You take one breath. Two.

You climb into your now unlocked car, tossing the book onto the passenger seat.

When you get home, you won’t be able to stop thinking about how in the moment, you kind of wanted him to kiss you.

—

He finds you at the Boneyard, because of course he does.

You’re sitting on one of the drift wood-slash-benches near the bonfire, pretending like you’re not shivering.

“You know, most people come to beach parties to let loose and have fun. That includes me. Having fun and letting loose does not include you.”

“Oh, come on. This is neutral territory, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“What am I allowed to call you?”

“Nothing. Go find another girl to stroke your ego. Or your dick. I don’t care either way.”

He leans down into your space. “You’ve got a mouth on you.”

“Fuck. Off.”

He raises his hands in mock surrender. “I only came over to give you this.”

This time, instead of holding out a book (that you had, in fact, read in a matter of days. It was as good as you’d thought it’d be) he holds out a jacket. One of those expensive North Face fleeces.

You scrunch your nose. “And why are you giving me that?”

“You’re cold.”

“So?”

“So, I’m being a gentleman.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you knew what that word was.”

He drops the fleece on your head. “Take the fucking jacket.”

You slide it off your head, putting it on and glaring at him all the while.

“I’m only putting this on because I’m cold.”

“Sure you are.”

“This has nothing to do with you. I’m still not dating you.”

“Mhm.”

“I hate you.”

He cracks the same smile he gave you at the bookstore. “Sure.”

He takes a swig of his beer, walking backwards towards his group of friends. “You look good in my clothes, princess.”

You flip him two fingers, and he flips them straight back.

You’ll deny it later that you smiled after the interaction.

—

He shows up at your job. This time, Topper’s with him.

You close your eyes and count to ten, mentally picturing fleeing the country and never having to deal with men again before speaking.

“You know, there’s a term for you right now.”

He smiles that same stupid fucking smile, tapping his fingers on the table of the cafe you work at. He’s seated outside in your section. You highly doubt it’s by mistake.

“Determined? Persistent?”

“A repeat offender,” You say flatly. “Now will you please order and get the hell out here?”

To his credit, Topper looks vaguely uncomfortable with his own presence. Though that might be because you did turn him down particularly brutally. You wince internally. It wasn’t his fault, per se. It was just… not a good day.

Rafe is perfectly capable of handling your top-notch bitch-ery, and secretly, you enjoy the chance to be as openly angry as you want to be.

Rafe pretends to read over the menu. You know he’s only pretending because you watched him read it for five straight minutes when they first arrived. He probably has it memorized.

“I’d like a blueberry muffin,” He says, still smiling. “Just one.”

You scribble it down on your order sheet, then turn to Topper. “And you?”

“Uh,” He clears his throat, “Just a water, please.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Seriously? You came all the way to my job to harass me and that’s what you order? One muffin and a water?”

You write the water down anyway, clicking your tongue. “And the asshole-ery continues.”

“And what would you have us order, then?” Rafe asks, eyeing you from his position at the table.

It’s scary how well he commands a space just by being— he’s Rafe Cameron and he knows it. He exudes power and control.

He’s the exact kind of man you turn down hard. No chance of anything.

“Something actually worth bothering me for,” You slip the notepad into your apron pocket and spin on your heel, “I have other orders and tables to wait. Don’t expect to get your muffin and water soon.”

As you wait and bus the tables that need to be dealt with before your orders are ready, you begin to wonder if you’re going too far.

This isn’t just any Kook. This is Rafe. He could completely and utterly destroy your life if he wanted to.

Maybe you’re better off agreeing to go out with him. Just to be safe. Women don’t turn a man like that down.

Finally, you get their orders out to them, setting them on the table a little less harsh than you were originally planning.

“There,” Can’t quite stop your mouth, though. “Do you want the check now?”

Rafe picks up his muffin, shrugging. “Sure.”

You slide them the bill— you had it ready the second you got the chance. You’d rather not have them here any longer than you have to.

It was hard enough to get a job outside The Cut. You don’t need to give your boss any more reason to fire you.

Rafe tosses a few bills onto the bill and you take it, counting the money.

“You overpaid.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Your total was nine dollars and twenty six cents. You just handed me two hundred dollar bills.”

He tilts his head at you like he’s confused. “I thought you were supposed to tip waiters and shit.”

You blink at the bills. “Yeah like, five dollars. Not two hundred. I don’t even think we accept hundred dollar bills.”

“Tell your manager I’m the one who paid. Can’t take issue with a Cameron.”

“You’re the worst,” You tell him, but take the money back to your manager. He isn’t happy, but like Rafe said— can’t take issue with a Cameron. He gives you the change you need and bores holes into your back with how hard he’s staring as you walk the money back.

“Here.” You thrust your arm out, handing him the change.

Rafe crosses his arms. “I said that was your tip.”

“I can’t accept this. I don’t accept pity money.”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s not pity money.”

“Then what kind of money is it? Cause it sure feels like pity money. Oh wait, is this you-owe-me-now money?”

He groans. “Can’t you just take the fucking money?”

“Not if there’s a consequence.”

If Topper looked uncomfortable before, he looks almost nauseous now. You kind of feel bad for him.

Rafe scrubs a hand down his face. “Will you just take it? No consequence.”

“Why?”

Topper chokes on his water.

“Why?” Rafe asks, a muscle in his jaw jumping. “Because it’s what I do. You’re the Pogue Princess, yeah? I’m giving you the princess treatment.”

“But why? What do you gain from this?”

“I’m just gonna go wait at the car,” Topper says, getting up so quickly he bumps the table.

Rafe’s eyes never leave you, the money still clutched in your hand. “You know what I get out of this? The prettiest girl on the island in my clothes. The prettiest girl on the island spending my money.”

The bills start to crinkle in your grip. “I’m a Pogue. You don’t date Pogue’s.”

He stands, pushing back his chair in a much more controlled manner than you were expecting, given the look on his face. “Have you ever considered that you’re the exception?”

“No, because I’m not. The only part of me that’s an exception is the challenge. That’s all you want.”

Something flashes in his eyes. His gaze is dark where it scans your features, something calculating in his eyes.

“Some guy fucked you over, huh?”

Your near full body flinch is a dead giveaway. “Fuck you, Rafe. You’re an asshole.”

He shrugs. “Maybe. Probably. But I’m gonna keep showing you what this,”

He gestures to the both of you. “Could be like. I’m not that kind of asshole. Not to girls who look like you.”

He stands, taking all the change out of your hand except the $100 bill.

“Hold onto that for me,” He says, voice husky as it brushes your ear.

His hand comes up for one second, two, and then he lowers it. Like he’d had to restrain himself ok touching you.

An involuntary shiver runs down your spine. He smirks at the reaction.

And then, he’s gone. Now you’re just some waiter standing at a table with a $100 clutched in your hand.

You shake yourself out of your stupor, getting busy bussing the table. You notice something fluttering under his plate.

An old receipt with a number scribbled on it.

And a $20 bill.

“Son of a—“

—

You’re having a really bad day. One of those thirty-million-minor-inconveniences-in-a-row days. With one last fuck you from the universe on top.

You couldn’t get your hair right no matter how many times you tried, your makeup is rushed and bad because you spent too much time on your hair, once again one of your neighbors pulled out of their driveway without looking and almost killed you, a guy tried feel you up during your shift and your manager told you it was your fault for wearing revealing clothing (you were literally wearing your uniform) and then top it all off, your car won’t start. It won’t even try.

You slam your head against the steering wheel. Your boss made you stay late because of the incident so it’s getting dark now. You’re not walking all the way back to The Cut. But you don’t know how you’re getting home. It’s not like you can just call a mechanic. None of your pogue friends have cars and only person who does you’d… rather not call right now.

So that just leaves one option.

A really, really, terrible option.

A horrific one.

You curse as you rifle through your purse, pulling out the old receipt. Your phone’s almost dead, so you have to make this count.

You dial the number, pulling your knees to your chest and sinking low in your seat.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Rafe.”

“I was wondering when you’d call me.”

“I’m sure you were,” You say flatly. “Listen I… I need a favor.”

“Spill.”

“I’m at work. My car won’t start. I just—“ You break off, frustrated tears welling in your eyes. “Can you please come pick me up?”

“I’m on my way. Sit tight.”

He hangs up the phone and you sigh, scrubbing your face and willing the tears to just go away. You press the heels of your hands to your eyes, probably smearing your makeup past the point of return, but you can’t find it with in yourself to care.

You sit there for what feels like minutes, hands pressed to your face trying desperately to stop the tears that keep flowing when you hear a car pull up next to you.

You sit up, hands lowered, eyeing the sleek Range Rover that just pulled up next to you.

You manage to climb out of your car, hugging your waist in an act of self-soothing and a sad attempt at getting warm. It gets cold in Kildare at night.

Rafe rounds the front of his car, expression pinched.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine, really, just…” You trail off, gesturing vaguely to your car. You sniff hard, rubbing the back of your hand across your face. “It’s just been a long day.”

He looks over your shoulder, assessing your car before looking back to you. “Get whatever you need from your car.”

You rush to gather the items from your car, piling them in the backseat at Rafe’s direction. You turn, facing him when something is thrown at your face.

It’s disturbing that you recognize it by deja vu alone.

“Rafe—“ You say, taking the jacket in your hands.

“You’re cold. Put it on.”

“But—“

“Listen, princess, I’m perfectly satisfied waiting here all night until you put that on.” He crosses his arms, leaning against the car.

You squeeze the jacket in your hand. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“That.”

“Mmm,” He hums. “That’s a tough one. Probably cause you look pathetic when you shiver.”

“I do not.”

“You totally do. You get all hunched. Like an old lady.”

“Is this your idea of flirting?”

He smiles. “Put the jacket on.”

You do. It’s just as warm as last time.

He nods his head towards the car and you climb into the passenger seat, clicking your seatbelt.

He climbs in after you, putting his seatbelt on and pulling the car out of the parking lot. After a moment, he reaches across the console, turning on your seat warmer and cranking the heat up.

“Thank you,” You say after a moment.

“I told you I’d show you what life would be like if you were mine.”

“Yours?”

“Yeah,” He says, fingers flexing on the steering wheel. “Mine.”

“So you’d have me, what? Caged? Chained to you.”

“Spoiled, is the word I’d used.”

“I’m not an object, Rafe. I’m not going to be some kind of kept woman.”

He snorts. “Who said anything about that?”

“That’s what you want, is it not? Want me to have no personality, no nothing. You want me to hang off your arm and laugh at everything you say—“

“Fuck no,” He says so vehemently you pause. “You’re so fucking mouthy. And stubborn. If I wanted some brainless fangirl, I’d go find one. I wouldn’t pick her up from her job and drive her home. Probably wouldn’t give her my fucking jacket.”

You look up at him. “You wouldn’t?”

He shrugs. “None of those girls tell me to fuck off.”

“So it is the challenge. That’s all.”

“That’s not all. You’re making shit up.”

“Am I?”

“Yes. Come on. No guy has ever given you his jacket? You seriously want me to believe you look like that no one’s ever spoiled you?”

“No,” You say curtly, “You want me to believe that every guy just enjoys spending a bunch of money on a girl?”

“Not a girl. Their girl. There’s a difference.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Cause it’s not your job to get it. It’s your job to be spoiled. Now where the hell am I going?”

You give him a vague address— just the street name and how to get there. You’re not stupid enough to give him your house address.

You don’t talk for the duration of the drive, you begin to shrug out of his jacket when a hand on your thigh stops you.

“Keep it. You can give it back to me the next time you see me.”

“There’ll be a next time?”

“If I have anything to say about it.”

You slowly put the jacket back on, then hastily climb out of his car, barely remembering to grab your stuff from the back.

You pause by the window. He rolls it down.

“Um. Thank you. Again.”

His lips twitch. “Don’t mention it.”

—

You don’t see him for a full two weeks after that.

After the first week, you figure he’s busy.

After the second week, you assume you scared him off.

You’re out on your old, busted kayak on the water, enjoying the early evening sun.

“Afternoon, princess.”

“Don’t call me that,”

You look over, eyeing Rafe and Sarah on one of the Cameron’s smaller boats. Sarah waves at you kindly. She’s always been fairly kind to you—

“Princesses have to stick together.” She’d said to you once, an easy smile on her lips, her face bathed in an orange glow in front of the bonfire.

A similar smile is on her face today. But the one on Rafe’s is nothing but mischief.

“Why don’t you come over here?” He calls.

You flip him a certain finger.

“Come on!” Sarah yells. “We’ve got beer!”

Well. Who are you to say no to free alcohol?

—

You should’ve said no to the free alcohol.

“You know what Rafe?” the words tumble out of your mouth, clumsy. “You’re really hot. It’s not fair. How am I supposed to hate you when you look so hot?”

You’re sitting on one of the benches on the boat, half leaning on the back of it and half leaning on Rafe.

You might have forgotten to take into account the fact that you’re a lightweight.

He raises an eyebrow. “How many beers did you have?”

“Don’t worry about that,” You slur, attempting to shush him but failing halfway through, your hand falling harmlessly into his lap. “I like beer. I like drinking. How come I don’t drink often?”

You pause, squinting at him. “How come you’re so hot?”

“Yeah,” He sighs, “You’re drunk.”

“Who cares? I like being drunk. Drunk me is fun. Like that one song. Release your in-hi-bitions— feel the rain on your skin!”

He gives you a pained look. “Please don’t try to start dancing. You don’t have the coordination for it, and I’m not going into the water when you tip overboard.”

“Pshhh, yeah you would. You like taking care of me. Cause you’re weird.”

You turn to face the other side of the boat, where Sarah is watching you with an amused expression. “Sarah! Did I tell you that he drove aaaaaaaallllllllll the way to my job to pick me up cause my car wouldn’t start?”

She tilts her head, looking at Rafe. “You told Dad you were going to go pick up Topper and Kelce from a party so they didn’t drunk drive.”

You make a so-so motion with your hand. “That’s like. Basically the same thing.”

“It is not. You really are a lightweight, huh?”

You squint at Sarah. “Did John B. tell you that?”

She splutters. “No, I—“

You cross your arms, frowning. Then you turn to look up at Rafe again. “I should’ve called John B. to pick me up, cause he’s the only Pogue I know who’s got a car. But I didn’t. I called you.”

“Mm,” Rafe says, his jaw tensing and un-tensing. “And why is that.”

“Cause he’s being a dick. He’s all upset ‘cause I’m hanging out with you, keeps telling me I’m gonna get hurt again and blah blah blah, but then, it turns out he’s been dating Sarah for weeks and he didn’t tell me! It’s the same thing! And we’re not even dating.”

Rafe looks at Sarah. “You’re dating him? That’s who you broke up with Topper for?”

She glares right back at him. “There is literally a Pogue in this boat right now who is only here because you want to date her. Don’t be a hypocrite.”

“She’s different.”

“How?”

You and Sarah ask the same question at the same time. Rafe sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“She’s not just some random Pogue I picked up off the street.”

“I could have been.”

“You’re not helping.”

You frown, staring at your feet.

He gazes at you for a moment. “She’s just… different.”

You blink up at him through your lashes. “You should kiss me.”

“No.”

“Why not?” You whine.

“Because when sober-you remembers all of this, she’s already going to kill me.”

“Not to mention I would.” Sarah grumbles, taking a sip of her own beer. “Come on, Rafe. You should bring her home. It’s getting late anyway.”

“Mm,” He hums, glancing at you up and down. “You wanna go home?”

“No. There’s no beer and Rafe there. S’ boring.”

“I’m pretty sure sober-you likes it that way.”

“Then she’s boring,” You poke the muscle of his bicep. “Do you work out?”

“Yes.”

“Are you buff?”

“I’d like to think so.”

“Could you carry me?”

“Probably.”

“Hmm,” You sink lower on the bench, kicking your feet. “Okay. We should go home before sober-me figures out what’s going on.”

Sarah brings the boat back to their little dock while Rafe makes various attempts to keep you awake during the journey.

You whine, batting his hands away as he pokes your face.

“We’re here, so you’re gonna have to get up.”

You groan. “You’re a big strong man. Carry me.”

You hear a huff, a sigh, and then arms come around your middle and you let out a half-aborted scream as you’re hefted into the air, stomach landing on a muscled shoulder.

“I was joking,” You mumble, your arms dangling. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”

“I swear to fucking— here.”

He slides you off his shoulder and you wobble as you land, vision swimming.

“I think I’m a lightweight.”

“You’re just now figuring that out?”

“Why are you so mean?”

“I was told by a certain princess that it was my brand.”

“I wanna go home.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Are you going to walk then? Towards my car? So you can go home?”

You turn (slowly) and squint at his car in the distance. “That seems really far away.”

“It’s not.”

“I don’t wanna walk that far.”

The muscles in his jaw jump. “Just this once, because I need to get you home, and you are drunk, I am going to offer you a piggy-back ride. Got it?”

“Hmm. Okay.”

He stoops a little so you can hop on, then hooks his arms under your legs with only a mild grunt, your arms crossing —not too tight— around his neck.

He makes his way across the deck and up the path, silently, your cheek pillowed on the side of his neck.

When he makes it to the car he opens the passenger side door and slides you into it, clicking your seat belt on when your fingers fumble with it.

He’s silent the entire drive, jaw clenched and hands white knuckled on the steering wheel.

The silence practically thrums with anger, the charged air prickling your skin.

“Are you mad at me?”

He works his jaw. “No.”

“It seems like you’re mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“Then how come you’re upset?”

He sighs out through his nose. He doesn’t respond right away. Waits until he pulls over at the front of your street, sets the car in park. His hands don’t leave the steering wheel.

“You’re… squishier than I thought.”

“You think I’m fat?”

“No- fuck. I’m saying you’ve got a convincing stone-cold-bitch act. Then you go and get drunk and turn into this. Makes me feel like a piece of shit.”

You cross your arms. “You don’t like it. Me.”

He finally looks over at you, his eyes hooded. “I never said that. It’s one thing for us to have this back and forth assholery, as you put it. But now I know this is also who I’m being a dick to.”

You look down at your lap. “You know, I wasn’t always a stone-cold bitch.”

He cuts you a look. “Stop talk—“

“No, you shut up, I’m not that drunk anymore,”

You’re totally lying, which he knows, but he lets you talk.

“There was… this guy. I really liked him. He really liked me. Well, I thought he did. He was a Kook, too. Everyone warned me against getting with him, but I thought what we had was real,” You clench your hands on your thighs. “It wasn’t. Turns out his friends had dared him to sleep with ‘the prettiest Pogue he could stomach.’ That’s all I was. The only Pogue he could stand to fake it with. He told me the morning after. We broke up.”

“Who—“

“It doesn’t matter. I’m telling you this so you understand that I am a frigid bitch, but I’m also… this. So you better not fuck this up.”

He chuckles. “What do you want me to do, then?”

You shrug. “Prove me wrong. And I’m not made of glass. You just gotta… take it.”

Rafe raises a single eyebrow. “Take it?”

“Look, I already told you I think you’re hot. You’ve got a brain. Put the pieces together.”

He rubs a hand across his jaw. “And if I go too far?”

“I’m not that fragile.”

He crosses his arms, biceps flexing. “You sure about this?”

“Right now? Yes.”

He hums. “I should say no. You’re drunk. You’re not in the right mind to make these kinds of decisions.”

“But?”

“I’d rather test this and see,” He leans down, across the middle console, eyes hooded and hungry as he stares down at you. “You’re on, pretty girl."

—

When you wake (in your own bed, shockingly) it’s to the sound of a chainsaw right next to your ear.

Oh. It’s actually just your phone buzzing.

You hit the accept button and roll over onto it instead of doing all the effort of lifting it onto your face.

“H’llo?”

“Morning, princess.”

You groan. “Why the fuck are you calling me?”

“You don’t remember last night?”

“You’re on, pretty girl.”

You groan again, this one long and drawn out. “Why did you let me drink? You should’ve thrown me off the side of the boat after the first beer.”

You’re utterly mortified at how you acted. There’s a reason you don’t really get drunk anymore.

“And get rid of my free show like that? Please.”

You huff, head pounding at the effort of remembering the night before and speaking. “Why’re you calling me?”

“Had to make sure all that drinking didn’t kill you. We’ve got plans tonight.”

You sit up a little in bed. “No we don’t. I have work tonight.”

“That’s your only dispute?”

“I figured I didn’t have to state the obvious ones.”

“Come on. It’s just a little party—“

“I don’t do parties, Rafe.”

“I recall seeing you at the boneyard more than a couple times.”

“Bonfires on the beach don’t count as parties.”

“So you’d come if it was on the beach?”

“No, I—“ You tap the speaker button, dropping the phone into your lap. “What’s the point of this party, exactly? You want to be seen in public with me? Want everyone to know I’m off limits?”

“Yes,” He says it so easily, though his voice a little rough, a little gravelly, “But you also need to lighten up. I’ll pick you up from work. Bring clothes to change into.”

You open your mouth to respond but the hang up tone beeps steadily in your ear.

Of course you had to go blab your tragic backstory to Rafe fucking Cameron.

—

Work is long as usual, and you’ve contemplated quitting several times by the time you’re changing into your ‘party’ clothes in the bathroom, ignoring the fact that Rafe has definitely been parked and waiting for half an hour.

Your boss kept you late. Again.

You rush out to his car, cursing. He’s leaned up against the passenger side door, one hand in his pocket and the other holding his phone. He looks up when you approach, the corners of his lips twitching.

He pushes off the car, opening the passenger side door and nodding towards it.

“You look good.”

You pause, shouldering your work bag. “That’s it? I keep you waiting for thirty minutes and that’s all you say?”

“Did you want me to get upset?”

“Well, no, but—“

He shrugs. “Don’t care. Get in the car.”

He closes the door after you then climbs in himself, cranking up the heat and driving towards the boneyard.

You notice his eyes flicking down to your thighs every now and then. When picking an outfit for the party/bonfire/whatever, you’d decided to go simple. Having Rafe follow you around would be attention enough.

Still, the jeans you’re wearing are tight. A bit more form-fitting than your usual attire.

He seems to notice.

You shift in your seat, a little self conscious under the heat of his gaze crossing your legs and angling them towards the car door.

He sighs. “Mm-mm. None of that.”

He reached a hand across the console, deft, strong fingers effortlessly hooking and curling over your knee and dragging your legs back over and closer to him. Once he resituates you, his hand travels a little higher, squeezing and rolling the plush flesh there in his hand.

Your breath hitches. “What are you doing?”

“Taking.”

You swallow heavily, nearly choking on the lump in your throat. “You better not act like this at the boneyard.”

“And what if I do?“

“I’ll leave.”

He snorts. “I’m your ride. You gonna walk home? In the cold?”

“It’s not cold out.”

“It is to you. You’re always shivering. You better have brought the jacket.”

He doesn’t have to say which jacket for you to know which one he’s referring to.

You cross your arms, firmly ignoring the hand still intermittently squeezing your thigh. “I did. But i’m serious, Rafe. You have to back off when we get there.”

“Mm,” He hums. “Then at least let me have a little now.”

There’s something in the way he says it. The timber of his voice, the low, almost croon to his tone. He says it like you’re in control. Like you have power over him.

Even just the idea of it is exhilarating.

You push your thigh up into his hand, just a little bit.

“Only cause you’ll be insufferable if I don’t.”

He curls his hand under your thigh, palm pressed to the side and fingers pressing into the muscle through your tight jeans.

“Thanks, baby.”

“I’m not your baby.”

“We’ll see about that.”

You pull up to the beach, party already well under way.

People cheer as Rafe climbs out of the car, but he ignores them in favor of walking over to your side of the car and offering you a hand, which you swat away.

“I’m not an invalid.”

“Has anyone told you that you’re really hard to be polite to?”

“You’re just—“

“For the love of god, don’t start with that shit. Get over here.”

He snakes an arm around your waist, tugging you to his side. He starts towards the beach and you squirm, not wanting to be seen tucked under his arm.

This is the exact scenario you’d wanted to avoid with this whole thing. Showing up with Rafe Cameron —literally climbing out of his car— and having his arm around you is the perfect way to be ostracized by almost ninety percent of your circle.

“Will you chill the fuck out?” Rafe says, slowing to a stop a little ways away from the party, turning you to face him. “We’re just going to a party.”

You attempt to shrug his arm off your shoulder, but it holds fast. “You don’t get it. You have money, so you don’t need a community to fall back on. We’re poor. All we have is each other. So if I walk over there with you, i’ll lose it. I’ll be a traitor.”

His expression twists. “You’re blowing this so far out of proportion it’s not even funny.”

Anger begins stirring in your chest. “Rafe—“

“Who cares? No seriously, who the fuck cares? Everyone on this island is a piece of shit in their own ways. No one gives a shit if I got you under my arm. No one’s watching you. You’re not a fucking celebrity. You’ve got a reputation for turning down guys, you’re not fuckin’ Taylor Swift.”

The anger fades and your skin prickles in its absence. “I don’t think that I’m famous or anything.”

Rafe’s features smooth into something a little calmer. “I know, I know. Is this cause John B’s being a dick?”

“He has a point—“

“No he doesn’t,” Rafe snorts, “He’s dating my sister. He doesn’t get to say anything.”

You sigh. “They’re just worried about me making the same mistakes again.”

His arm leaves your side and you resist the shiver that threatens to overtake you at the sudden loss of the warmth and stability you hadn’t realized you’d been reliant on during the length of the conversation.

Rafe slides a gold ring off his pointer finger— the gold ring. The Cameron signet ring. The ring he never takes off.

He takes your hand, turning it palm side up, and drops the ring in it.

“There. My dad would probably murder me if anything happened to that ring. If I become a real and serious dick to you, chuck it in the fucking ocean.”

You stare down at it. “This is real gold. It’s a family heirloom. You can’t just give it to me.”

“I’m not,” He says easily, “This is a loan. When you decide that I’m not gonna fuck you over, you can give it back.”

You close your fingers around the ring, still warm from his finger. You tilt your back, looking up at him through your lashes. A small smile starts to spread across your face.

“I’ve really got you wrapped around my finger, huh?”

He huffs a laugh, tucking you under his arm again and walking you towards the party. “Took you long enough.”

The party honestly is fun after that. You drink (not much, Rafe carefully watches your alcohol intake and makes sure you toe the line of tipsy, but don’t fall over into drunk territory. He spends the night nursing one beer, claiming designated driver whenever someone gives him shit for it.

“Never stopped you in the past.”

“Didn’t have precious cargo before.”

He stays true to your earlier agreement and remains fairly hands off, but follows you around the party like some sort of guard dog, lingering just over your shoulder and successfully scaring off every guy who even looks in your direction.

Some of the pogues do give you the occasional glare or judgmental look or two, but Rafe was right. No one cares.

It’s… nice. For once you’re not hoping no guy approaches you or praying a Kook doesn’t start some shit with you. With Rafe trailing behind you, one hand in his pocket and jaw set, you truly are free to just enjoy the party, for the first time in your life. No one’s trying to hit on you, no one’s trying to making a spectacle of trying to convince you to date them, no one is making snide comments.

It’s weird, because you’re accustomed to a certain kind and amount of anxiety that comes with going to a mixed party, but everytime you start wondering how things are going to go wrong, Rafe is there with an arm around your waist or some stupid comment or other about somebody at the party whispered in your ear.

You manage quite a bit more socializing at the party than you usually do. Unfortunately, between this and the alcohol, you tire pretty quick.

You trip over your third stick when Rafe settles a hand on your hip with an “Think it’s time you went to bed.”

You groan. “But I’m actually having a good time for once.”

He steers you in the direction of the car. “Well, you’re in luck, cause if you think you’re going to parties alone from now on, you got another thing coming.”

Rafe at your side —a seemingly permanent arrangement now— you stumble your way towards the car.

“Isn’t that boring for you?”

“If it was, I’d say something. Besides. There’ll be different parties. Stop worrying so much about shit.”

His words seem harsh, but his tone is nothing other than low and fond.

“I’m cold.”

“I told you to grab the jacket—“

“I did bring it—“

“Then why aren’t you wearing it?”

“It didn’t match the outfit!”

“Are you being serious right now?”

"Is it a crime to want to look good at a party--"

He chuckles, fingers flexing on your hip as he tugs you closer to him. "You're so stupid."

"Rude."

"Not rude if it's true."

You elbow his side, but he just laughs louder.

Unsurprisingly, he warms the car for you when you get in.

—

Storms are a common thing in Outerbanks. Everyone's used to them. Monsoons, thunder storms, even the occasional hurricane. So you're not surprised to get the warning, not surprised when it hits.

You are a little surprised to wake up pelted with rain, a tree branch in your room, and part of the roof missing.

"Shit," You gasp, pushing the fallen debris off your body and rolling out of your bed to assess the damage.

It's bad. The branch is big and long, probably from that stupid tree your neighbors refused to cut down that you said was going to be a storm hazard. They'd refused, and now there's a huge tree branch that's caved in your roof and part of the wall that separates your bedroom from the living room.

No one is home but you. No one ever is, but right now it causes tears to rise to your eyes, because there's a branch in your room, and the roof is in pieces, and now that you've stopped moving, your legs and arms and torso actually hurt quite a bit, and something warm and wet is running down your temple and when you touch your fingers to it, they come away wet and scarlet.

You're out of your depth and you're scared. You can't stay here, obviously, but you don't know what to do. No one else is home. You don't even know who to call. JJ is out, because who knows if his dad is home and he doesn't even have a phone right now, Kie's out too because her parents didn't like that you were a Pogue with a reputation, you and Pope aren't that close, and John B is... John B. He has a car, at least, and you grew up together, so he'd probably overlook everything between the both of you if you're in danger.

You snatch you waterlogged phone off your dresser, shaky fingers scrolling through your contacts, thumb hovering over John B's.

You should call him. You've been neglecting your friendship with the group recently, working around the clock and Rafe whisking you away. Everyone's busy in their own way, what with the treasure and everything, so this could be a moment to reunite, bond over how shitty the storms make life on the Cut.

There's one other person you could call.

You shouldn't. Should stick to the friends you know, call John B.

But if you called Rafe, he'd come. He'd come get you, and probably take you back to his house and you wouldn't have to worry about anything, because for some reason, he's serious about doing that.

You could call him. He probably wants you to.

You press call before you can talk yourself out of it.

"Do you know what time it is--"

"A tree branch fell on my roof and now I don't have part of my roof and I'm really cold and wet and please come get me."

"Jesus— okay, yeah, yeah I'm coming. Shit, okay. Are you hurt?"

"My head is bleeding and I'm battered all over, but I don't think I need to go to he hospital."

"You're bleeding from your head and you don't think you need to go to the hospital?"

You can hear the sound of a car door slamming and an engine turning over.

"I don't want to go because then I'll be stuck in these clothes and they'll poke and prod at me and it'll take ages and—"

"Alright, alright. Calm down. How bad is the damage to the house. Look around for me."

"Um," You turn in place, scrutinizing the disaster and chaos around you. "I think most of the roof is intact, just the portion that covers my bedroom and some of the living room are uncovered. The branch took out most of the wall that seperates my room from the living room."

"Fuck. Okay, what about the rest of the house?"

"Um, I don't think I can get to it. The tree branch and other house... pieces are blocking my door."

"Can you get out? At all?"

"Yeah, I think through my window."

"Don't move. Take what you need from your room. I'll be there soon."

“Please don’t hang up.”

The line goes silent and you think he has hung up, that you didn’t say it fast enough or he just didn’t care, but then he speaks.

“Would you rather I sneak you in my house or walk in through the front door?”

“…What are the pros and cons?”

“Well, getting in the front door is easiest, but then you risk seeing my parents and my Dad won’t have questions, but Rose will, and I never want to answer her questions anyway.”

“She can’t be that bad.”

“She is. Sneaking you in is harder, but then we avoid conversations, but if we get caught, conversations will probably be worse. Might become a whole lecture.”

“They’d lecture you for taking in a girl who needs help?”

“Rose would.”

He keeps talking the entire way to your house, his voice speaking in low tones as you gather up the things you need to spend an indefinite amount of time away from home.

He eventually does hang up when he arrives, so you turn your attention to prying your window open and climbing out of it.

You can barely get it wedged open enough to fit through, so you toss your bag through first and shout a quick “over here!” before beginning to crawl through.

You hear footsteps slow to a stop in front of you. “You know, usually when this scenario happens, you’re facing the other way around.”

You swat at his leg. “You’re disgusting. And I’m not stuck. You just arrived at an in-opportune moment.”

He curls a hand under the window and pulls up, making the gap wider. At the sudden release of tension you yelp, tumbling out of the window.

“You’re such a mess.”

“You didn’t warn me!”

He helps you to your feet and leads you to his car, the hand on your waist keeping you distracted from the wreckage behind you.

—

You do decide in the end to just walk in the front door, because you’re cold and wet and tired.

Ward does wake up and meets you at the staircase (you’re pretending not to notice the sheer opulence of the house) looking rumpled and confused.

“Who’s this?” The man asks, gesturing your rather pathetic looking form.

“My girlfriend,” Rafe says smoothly, “Branch fell on her roof. Place is a mess.”

You wave hello. “Sorry for waking you, Mr. Cameron.”

His gaze flicks to you for a second, then back to Rafe.

“Girlfriend?” His tone sounds… off. “How long has this been a thing?”

Rafe shifts, squaring his shoulders and stepping a little more in front of you. “A little while.”

Ward hums again, eyes flitting to you, taking in your appearance.

“Make sure you get the first aid kit. That head wounds looks nasty.”

Rafe nods. “We got it. Thanks, Dad.”

Ward just dips his head once, then steps back into the bedroom.

You let out a long sigh, pressing a hand to your chest.

“I thought he was going to throw me out.”

“He wouldn’t. I wouldn’t let him, anyway.”

You snort. “Yes, yes, you’re a big strong man. Can we attend to my wounds now? And get some dry clothes?”

Cleaning your wound doesn’t take long, mostly because your head is the only one that really needs cleaning. The rest is taken care of in the shower. The most luxurious and amazing shower of your life. Seriously. You didn’t even know showers could be this relaxing.

The warm water soothes your aching muscles, and Rafe has weirdly good taste in bodywash.

He’d left you a change of clothes and a spare towel even though you said you brought your own.

You change into his anyway.

They’re more comfortable. Better quality than your ratty pajamas.

Your underwear is a different matter. Your dresser is old and broken —as most things in your house are— and the drawer you picked to store your underwear in doesn’t close all the way. This normally isn’t an issue, but when your roof is suddenly no longer attached, it means the a good portion of your underwear got soaked and muddy.

Except the ones at the bottom of the drawer. So the only underwear you had to bring to Rafe’s that was clean and dry is the tiny, lacy stuff you bought from Victoria’s secret and only wear when you’ve taken an everything shower and need a little pick-me-up. When you want to feel like a hot piece of ass. Girl things.

So you look at yourself in the mirror, clad in your own tank top (it’s actually warm enough in his house to wear a tank top to bed) and a pair of his pajama pants, the draw-string pulled tight, the fabric sagging low on your hips, showing off a thin little strip of lace.

Your face flushes. You look like his girlfriend. Dressed in his clothes, lacy underwear peaking through, skin freshly washed and smelling of his body wash.

When you step out of his bathroom, old clothes clutched in your hand, he stills.

He sits back on the edge of his bed, leaning back on his elbows as you slowly saunter over, steps quiet.

His eyes flick down to the lace, pauses on the sight, then back up to your face.

The air is charged, thick with tension.

You pull away from it, tossing your clothes in your backpack and ignoring the heat of his gaze on your back.

“Come over here.”

You straighten, hands behind your back as you walk to him.

“Closer.”

You step forward, now standing between his legs.

His hands come up to the back of your thighs, tightening, before moving to your hips. His thumbs ghost over the edge of the lace, and he rumbles something deep in the back of his throat.

“I like these.”

“Do you?”

“Mhm.”

He presses his face forward, pushing your tank top up with his nose pressing his lips to the now exposed skin of your stomach.

You gasp, then feel him smile against you. He tugs you closer, face pressed to you and hands gripping your sides, just above the edge of your ribcage.

Tentatively, you reach a hand down, sliding from the top his head, down the side of his face, then slowing to a stop at his jaw, pushing your palm up. His head lifts, his eyes a little glassy, chin resting on your stomach.

“You introduced me as your girlfriend.”

“As far as I’m concerned, you are.”

“I am?”

You stroke a thumb over his face, sweeping over his cheekbone and under his eye. He leans into the touch, pliant.

“You think I let just any girl in here? You think I give any girl my clothes?”

“Yes?”

“Come on, baby. We’ve been over this.”

He presses another kiss to your stomach, mouth hot and lips firm.

He lifts his head up again. “You can make me yours anytime you want. Just say the word.”

“I’m scared,” you whisper, words barely even a breath.

“Mm,” He hums, hands running up and down your sides. “You think too much.”

You pause for a few moments, taking everything in.

You grab his hand, leave it palm side up in front of you, then reach into your pocket and drop something into it.

The ring. His ring.

He stares at it for a beat, then closes his hand around it, slipping it back onto his finger.

“Yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

He grins.

Your drop your hands around his neck and he moves his hands to the back of your thighs, effortlessly lifting you onto his lap, wrapping your legs around his middle.

He doesn’t waste any time kissing you. It’s hot and full at first, a roaring flame licking in both your chests, like he’s been holding himself back all this time and finally let it all out. He pushes up into you, and the kiss deepens before it mellows out, slowing down to a few cracking embers.

He pulls back, your noses brushing. “Been wanting to do that since the fucking bookstore.”

“That long?”

“Mhm. You were wearing those cute little pants and you couldn’t reach the top shelf. Wanted to have you right there.”

“You’re insatiable.”

“Mm. Only when it comes to you.”

You fall into each other again, and again, and again.

“Baby.”

“Hm?”

“I really like you in lace.”

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

3K notes · View notes

bloodfiendarling · 6 months ago

Text

ANOOONNNN ?!?!??! OH MY GOD . my love , my savior .. this is just me rambling ... so no proofread .. hope yu dont mind ue ue ue .. x_x and yas u may be ⚜️ anon <3

pairing — reader x aventurine

contains — dom top reader, sub bottom char, sounding rod, edging, handjob, overstim, dacryphilia

rambling on and on ..

sounding

— oh baby he would . in fact im p sure hed be the one to bring it up .. (freak) and end up sobbing when you insert it ... right after he told you with a confident look hed be able to take it just fine . hes gripping your shoulders moaning , unable to get a single word in as you slowly work its way into his dick .

edging + overstim

— avenchan is totally cryer .. the fact youre so so mean to him doesnt help at all ..! edging the poor blonde till hes shaking , and when you finally wanted to let him — and help him cum , he ends up mewling and grabbing onto your wrist . “too much!” hed whine soso much awawa .. you almost faltered with those sweet little pleas . when youre jacking him off at such a rough pace you know aventurines gonna cry harder .. (and you love it)

rough sex

— sis i mean it when i say i wanna fuck a child into him . augh . it makes it better when hes been teasing you and purposefully pissing you off all day , too . just to regret it (not really) when you pound into that sloppy hole of his till his brain goes blank . and bro . hes obviously goin to be crying all the way through (2) but ahhh ... hes so cute .. you cant help but kiss those tears away while pounding into him .

hsr masterlist ♥︎

#♱ backstreets .#♱ rabbit hole .#୨୧ passenger :: ⚜️ .#✸ astral express .#✸ ten stonehearts .#�� aventurine .#sub character #dom reader #hsr #hsr x reader #sub hsr #hsr smut #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #aventurine #sub aventurine #sub aventurine x reader #x reader

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linaslivery · 10 months ago

Text

౨ৎ ALL-AROUND ౨ৎ

masterlist / rules / requests & talks with me!

SUMMARY౨ৎ Going to the Olympics was the best day of your life. Seeing your celebrity crush cheer you on? Even better! Your teammates saying how much you geeked out and made you say who your crush is in a interview..? Not so cool. Luckily, he seems interested.

PAIRING ౨ৎ Lewis Hamilton x Gymnast!Fem Reader

FACE CLAIM ౨ৎ Flavia Saraiva for most photos!

WARNINGS ౨ৎ cursing but that’s it lol, i started feeling a bit burned out at the end so I’m very sorry :(

A/N ౨ৎ decided to not make any specifications for where the reader comes from just to include everyone! (Y/C = Your Country) . Used Flavia because ever since i saw her in the Olympics, I’ve been obsessed. (the whole brazilian gymnastics team tbh)

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

therealy/n_l/n ✔︎

liked by lewishamilton, jadecarey, and others

therealy/n_l/n It’s such a honor to be representing my country this Olympic Games. It was a lifelong dream I’ve been imaging as a child and couldn’t be happier. I’d like to take the time to thank my family, friends, and coaches who deemed this opportunity possible for me. See you in Paris. 🫡

tagged: yournationalteam, olympics

2,308 comments

user1 YES YES YES YES

user2 HARD WORK DOES IN FACT PAY OFF!!

→ lewishamiltonswife even mine?

→ user3 …

→ user4 …y’know, it’s okay to keep dreaming!!

simonebiles ✔︎ good luck on the floor 😉

sunisalee ✔︎ so excited to see everyone in paris!! 🥹 ❤️

→ therealy/n_l/n ✔︎ ME TOO! I’LL BE THERE SOON 🤞

→ sunisalee ✔︎ WELL HURRY UP THEN

user5 lewis hamilton in the likes..? 👀

→ user6 FR WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THAT???

→ user7 because the world doesn’t revolve around f1 and she doesn’t care about lewis hamilton! i hope this helps!!

→ user8 man who tf pissed in your cereal this morning @ user7

therealy/n_l/n has posted a new story!

[story 1: on the move! 👀 ] [story 2: paris here we come!!]

therealy/n_l/n ✔︎

📍 Paris

liked by paris2024, sunisalee, and others

therealy/n_l/n when in paris! 🥐 ⚜️

1,850 comments

user9 she’s so pretty it’s not even funny

user10 proud to say she reps my country 💪

user11 emily in paris ❌ y/n in paris ✅

rebecarandrade ✔︎ eu amooooo ❤️ *liked by author*

user12 LEWIS IS IN THE LIKES AGAIN GUYS CAN WE PRETTY PLEASE TALK ABOUT THIS 😞😞😞

user13 can’t wait for her to dominate.

→ therealy/n_l/n ✔︎ …🤨

→ user14 STOP I DIDN’T MEAN IT LIKE THAT I MEANT LIKE THE EVENTS IN GENERAL 😞

jordanchiles ✔︎ we should like totally escape the olympic village and eat real food again.

→ therealy/n_l/n ✔︎ NOT ON THE INSTA PAGE JORDAN. THIS WAS MENT TO BE SECRET. (i’ll meet you outside in 10)

→ paris2024 ✔︎ What’s so bad about the village?

→ simonbiles ✔︎ everything

→ katieledecky ✔︎ everything

→ stephen_nedoroscik ✔︎ everything

→ carlitosalcarazz ✔︎ everything

→ henrikchristians1 ✔︎ everything (besides the muffins 🤤)

→ djokernole ✔︎ everything

→ paris2024 ✔︎ :(

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

therealy/n_l/n ✔︎

liked by simonebiles, rebecarandrade, and others

therealy/n_l/n what. a. olympic. games. would have preferred to keep my face from bleeding though 😓

tagged: yournationalteam, olympics

1,304 comments

user14 getting injured and getting a medal the same day s actually insane

user15 she came to serve

→ user16 YEAH TO SERVE CUNT 🗣️ !!

teammate1 IM SO PROUD OF YOU 🥹🩷

→ therealy/n_l/n PROUD OF ME? IM PROUD OF YOU YOU GOLD MEDALIST

simonebiles ✔︎ truly amazing effort! 👏

→ user17 SIMONEEE

→ therealy/n_l/n ✔︎ QUEEN SIMONE 🥹 It was such a honor to be a rival against you!!

sunisalee ✔︎ YOU DID SO SO SO GOOD Y/N!!

→ therealy/n_l/n ✔︎ SUNIIIII MY BELOVED BARS AND FLOOR LOVER!! CONGRATS YOURSELF ON HOW AMAZING YOU ARE!!

jordanchiles ✔︎ free from the olympic village at last 🫡

→ therealy/n_l/n ✔︎ ABOUT DAMN TIME 😭😭

→ henrikchristians1 ✔︎ time to eat some real food again 🤤

user18 is no one gonna talk about the interview after the ceremony??

→ user19 interview what interview??

→ user20 the one where Y/N’s teammates leaked her being a HUGE lewis hamilton fan! like she has a mASSIVE crush on him.

→ user21 OMG NO WAY WHAT’S THE LINK???

→ user22 @ user21 here it is!! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dQw4w9WgXcQ

YOUTUBE

NEW!

OLYMPIANS AND THEIR CELEBRITY CRUSHES! - PARIS OLYMPICS 2024

TWITTER

IMESSAGES

INSTAGRAM

therealy/n_l/n ✔︎

liked by francisca.cgomes, lailahasanovic, alexandrasaintmleux and others

therealy/n_l/n rest and relaxation 🌺🌊

1,927 comments

lailahasanovic ✔︎ in love

f1gossipoffical the kika, laila AND alexandra like+comment?? 👀

francisca.cgomes ✔︎ lindaaaaaa ❤️

user23 she so fucking fine

y/n_l/nswifeoffical who tf is lewis hamilton and why are there rumors they are dating now.

alexandrasaintmleux ✔︎ 🐠 🩵

lewishamilton ✔︎ 🌞

→ user24 LEWIS SIGHTING

→ user25 ya’ll are freaking out over a emoji 😭

→ user26 yeah because lewis comments on every girls posts 😒

→ y/n_l/nswifeoffical she’s too good for you

→ user27 he’s a 7 time world champion??? @ y/n_l/nswifeoffical

→ user28 and she’s a fucking OLYMPIAN?? @ user27

→ user29 or…. they could kiss and have a d1 athlete @ user27 @ user28

→ user27 ….

→ user28 ….

→ user29 just a thought 😓

georgerussell63 ✔︎ ??? @ lewishamilton 👀

→ user30 george wants the tea too

→ user31 CAN WE BLAME HIM?? I WANT IT TOO

user31.5 the wags commenting and liking after the rumors with lewis start? interesting…

IMESSAGES

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

lewishamilton ✔︎

📍 Monza Grand Prix, Italy

liked by therealy/n_l/n, georgerussell63, mercedesamgf1 and others

lewishamilton Decent results today! Very happy and we will continue pushing forward 👊 New surges of motivation can change everything in a person 😊

tagged; mercedesamgf1

2,394 comments

therealy/n_l/n 🩵

*liked by Lewis Hamilton*

landonorris ✔︎ new surges of motivation you say? 😏

→ user32 LANDO WHAT DO YOU KNOW

user33 lewis is not beating the y/n allegations

user34 y/n in the likes???

charles_leclerc ✔︎ glad to see this new “motivation” is helping you out 🙃

→ user35 CHARLES TOO?!?!?

user36 how much does everyone wanna bet this motivation is y/n?

→ user37 we don’t need to bet. we all know it’s true 💀

maxverstappen1 ✔︎ this motivation is doing some good work then 😉

→ lewishamilton ✔︎ very! 🥴

→ user38 WHATS THAT EMOJI FOR??? @ lewishamilton

carlossainz55 ✔︎ Motivation is always the key! 😊

user38 the drivers on the grid are NOT helping his case 😭

IMESSAGES

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

lewishamilton ✔︎ and therealy/n_l/n ✔︎ have made a new post!

liked by y/n_l/nswifeoffical, landonorris, charles_leclerc and others

therealy/n_l/n feeling salty and it’s not just bc twitter ruined my amazing hard launch i was gonna do 😞

tagged; lewishamilton

2,385 comments

lewishamilton ✔︎ guess the surprise is out 😅 But you still look stunning, babe. wouldn’t want to be anywhere you aren’t 🩷

→ therealy/n_l/n ✔︎ STOP IT YOU’RE THE SWEETEST 🥹 i love you so much lew 🩷

→ user39 ”If you can't beat 'em, join 'em" ahh comment 😭

landonorris ✔︎ this is disgustingly cute i hate it

→ therealy/n_l/n ✔︎ just say you can’t commit to relationships and find real ones a dream

→ landonorris ✔︎ what makes you think that??? 🤨

→ therealy/n_l/n ✔︎ i don’t know… the rumors a certain blonde with first name of a M and the last name with a C tells us otherwise

→ landonorris ✔︎ not funny. didn’t laugh.

→ charles_leclerc ✔︎ 😂😂

→ therealy/n_l/n ✔︎ you’re not off the hook either you little date my ex’s friends

→ charles_leclerc ✔︎ …congrats on you’re relationship with Lewis, Y/N!!! 😁

f1 ✔︎ Definitely not part of the strategy…

user40 Twitter: 1, Y/N’s hard launch: 0

mercedesamgf1 ✔︎ not very mindful, or very demure of you twitter 😞

user41 still better drama than drive to survive 🤷

y/n_l/nswifeoffical that should be me holding your hand 😞😞

642 notes · View notes

klaus-littlestwolf · 1 year ago

Text

Smut-🔥 Fluff-🧸 Series-⚜️ Headcanon-🧨 Dark-🥀 Dd/Lg-✨ Wolf(Smut)-🐺 A/B/O-♎️

Alpha!Klaus’ Scent: Pine Trees and the Forest after it Rains

Oneshots/HC’s

•The Half Naked Portrait🔥🧸

•Klaus x Omega HC’s🧨♎️

•Period Problems🧸✨

•Train Apologies (Eli/Klaus/Kol)🔥🧸✨

•Alpha!Klaus and Pregnant Omega🧸🧨♎️

•Christmas Surprise🧸✨

•He Saved my Stuffie🔥🧸✨

•The Wolf in my Head (HP X-over)🔥🧸

•Finding the Right Mate (Twilight X-Over)🔥🧸

•Blind Date🧸✨

•Finding his Soul🔥🧸

•Klaus M. A-Z🧨🧸

•Klaus M. being Infatuated🧸🧨

•Punishment🧸✨

•Klaus being Obsessed w/ You🔥🧨🥀

•Alpha!Klaus Courting his First Omega🧸🧨♎️

•Klaus’ Omega having an Omega Child🧸🧨♎️

•Daddy Klaus and his Omega🔥🧨✨♎️

•You’re Mine, Whether You Know it or Not🧸🥀

•The Thousand Year Long Wait🔥🧸✨♎️

•It’s Not a Big Deal🔥🧸

•The Solitary Omega🔥🧸✨♎️

•Daddy Instincts🔥🧸✨

•A Comforting Daddy🧸✨

•Nap Time🧸✨

•Sweet Little Sub (Md-Lb)🔥🧸✨

•Painful Accident🧸✨

•Mafia!KlausxFBI Agent🧸🧨

•Needy Little Boy (Md-Lb)🔥🧸✨

•One More Bite🔥🧸🐺

•Weekend Away🔥🧸

•Internal Clock in Smithereens🧸

•Human!Viking HC’s🧸🧨

•Let Me Hear You🔥🧸✨

•The Storm🧸

•The Newest Member🔥🧸♎️

•Happy Anniversary Little Wolf🧸✨ (Klaus/Elijah)

•Wolfy Cuddles🧸✨

•Nerd!Alpha Klaus Stalking Omega🧸🔥♎️

•No Lies can Keep me Away🧸🔥♎️

•A Werewolf’s Needs🔥🐺

•Unexpected Surprise🔥🧸♎️

•Mikaelson’s w/ a Little Mate🧸✨🧨

•I Will Always Protect You🧸✨♎️

•Extreme Paranoia 🧸🥀

•The Hybrid Puppy🧸

Yandere!

•Yan!Klaus M. NSFW A-Z🧨🥀

•Yan!Mik. Brothers HC’s🧨🥀

•Mafia!Klaus NSFW A-Z🧨🥀

•His Perfect Princess (Mafia!Klaus)🧸🥀

•Mafia!Mik. HC’s🧨🥀

•Klaus and Elijah Obsessed w/ You🧨🥀

•Mafia!Mik. Family HC’s🧨🥀

•Mafia!Mik. x Little!Reader🧨🥀✨

•Religious Teachings🥀🔥✨

•The Viking Wedding (Viking!Human)🥀🔥

•Their Sugar Baby (Klaus/Elijah)🥀🔥

•Adopted Werewolf🥀🔥

•His New Assistant🥀🔥🧸

•Little Dancer🥀🔥🧸✨

•ERDoc!Klaus&POfficer!Elijah🥀🔥🧨

•What a Complex Organ🥀🔥✨

•College Student!Klaus NSFW A-Z🥀🧨

•A Strange Kind of Love (Mafia!Bucky x OC x Mafia!Klaus)🥀🔥🧸

•Alpha!Klaus Mates the Last Omega🥀🔥🧸♎️

•Sex Pollen Spell🥀🔥🧸

•Discovering his Little Side Md/Lb🥀🔥🧸✨

•Honesty is Overrated🥀🔥🧸

•Bloody Flowers🥀🔥✨🧸

•The Urge to Protect Klaus/Elijah🥀🔥✨🧸

Klaus M. Series Masterlist

Klaus Moodboards

Random Thoughts

779 notes · View notes

vampdes · 1 year ago

Text

DES says. . . nobody appreciates my loverboy iida. so, to the 4 iida fans out there, this is my gift to you + for zim, who doesn’t have tumblr yet (work on it).

links: MHA / BNHA smau masterlist (⚜️) + tenya smau pt. 2 (⚜️).

802 notes · View notes

muffinsin · 3 months ago

Text

BELA DIMITRESCU NSFW ABC HCs

Whew! Bela's is next according to out poll! ;) Daniela's will follow soon, depending on how well this one does, so reposts are super appreciated :)

Again, the original NSFW ABC for her can be found HERE, and Cassandra's updated ABC can be found HERE. Daniela's will be linked HERE once it's out

Let’s get into it🙌!

Masterlists

⚜️ A – Aftercare, Appetite, Aftermath, Anal

🌙Aftercare

Her favourite form of aftercare is relaxing in a warm (blood-) bath, with soap and soft sponges. She will kiss all marks she’s left on her partner, and blush when they do the same to her. Should they have serious marks and bruises on on them, she will be sure to apply cream to them all after their bath, then read together. She takes excellent care of her partners, and when she is a little rougher with them, she always makes up for it. For times when she has been the submissive one, she likes to be kissed and held before taken to a blood bath too, her body relaxing and healing nicely. There's absolutely some bonus points in for it should her lover kiss her and feed her something to help get her strength up again

🌙Appetite

Bela’s appetite is insatiable, but she hides it perfectly well until she snaps. Then, she needs it. And once she’s had a taste, she doesn’t stop until she’s satisfied- if that’s even possible. She loves drawing out every reaction, watching as her lovers fall apart under her hands. She makes them beg for mercy, only to drag them right back into it. Her appetite can build up very quickly at times even when she's in a dominant mood

As a submissive, Bela easily gets an appetite when her lover does something to turn her on. She's very easily seduced when in a relationship, and is often eager to give in should her partner start something. While she would normally often prioritize work, she gives into advances far more often as a sub

🌙Aftermath

Bela usually watches her lovers for a fair amount after ruining them. Often this means she's still by the bed with them, smirking, stretching like a cat as her eyes take her lover in, fully satisfied. She might tease, running her fingers over sensitive spots just to watch them shiver and react to her touch. But she keeps them close, possessive even in the calm. She knows she broke them, and she likes seeing them struggle to recover from what she's done to her. It's a massive ego boost for her

Bela likes to be left satisfied, when her limbs feel heavy and swarm is completely spent, her mind clouded with satisfaction, love, and haze. She likes to feel completelt spent, sprawled out, her flies buzzing quietly in contentment. She loves when she’s pulled close afterward, kissed lazily, reassured that she was perfect. Her body still thrums with the aftermath, every little touch sending sparks through her, every brush over her chest, thighs or between her legs making her shiver and gasp again

🌙Anal

Whether dominant or submissive, Bela isn't massively into anal. As a top, it's just another hole for her to use. She won't often finger it for hygenic reasons and is strictly against rimming, but doesn't mind filling her lovers with a strap or so should they ask her to. As it comes to herself, Bela doesn't mind her ass being taken, though feels far more pleasure from other parts of her body and therefore very rarely brings the wish up at all. There is, however, an exception; plugs. she doesn't wear them overly often, only ever to tease her lover or- her favorite- when she's bent over and her lover slowly drives the plug within her tight ass. But no matter for how long she has it in, the effects it has on poor Bela are immediate- she's incredibly sensitive, hypersensitive, really, gasping and whining at every little touch. She's incapable of sitting still, can only focus on the plug stretching her tight ass every single second. It's the most effective way to have her be completely sensitive, coming even before overstimulation

🪰 B – Body part, Begging, Bruises, Breasts

🌙Body part

Bela's favorite body part of hers are her hips. She knows she’s seductive and beautiful and loves to grind her hips against her lover and have them hold her by them. They’re slim yet soft, and she knows just how to work them to have someone's eyes turn her way

Her favorite body part of others are usually their arms and hands. Bela is quick to notice if a person sports muscles or not, and whether they do any heavy lifting. She loves having an arm wrapped around her while she is railed harshly, or holding onto her partner's hands as she does it to them. She likes to take them until their fingers twitch, or feel those fingers hold her slim wrists above her head when she's taken

🌙Begging

This Dimitrescu, much like her sisters, loves dragging little gasps and pleas out of her partners, making them desperate for her. She teases, denies, and plays with them until they’re panting, whimpering, and begging for her. But she won’t give in easily, not unless she's in a very loving, sensual, and giving type of mood. Louder, she often demands. She wants to hear her partners plead and whine. She watches with a wicked smirk as they fall apart, their voice breaking, their words slurring as they beg to be touched. Usually, she's gentler with her lovers. Should she ever decide to take in a pet, though, use a maid only as such, she is significantly crueller and far, far more twisted, breaking their poor little minds in until they can only slur out little pleas to please, let them cum or please, they need her touch

As it comes to submitting Bela is, generally speaking, a good girl. She's obedient, polite, just the right amount of needy and outright desperate when teased. She's sensitive and spoiled, but not greedy, she begs sweetly and asks for permission, she obeys and rarely takes what she isn't granted. She can, however, be a brat on some days, pushing buttons just to see what happens

🌙Bruises

Out of all the Dimitrescu family members Bela leaves the least bruises. While she likes to bite and scratch at times, she very rarely leaves lasting marks aside from a bite here and there by her partner's throat or thighs. Even her scratches are light, never enough to even draw blood. She's gentle with them, fully capable of controlling her strenght, and hardly sadistic as it comes to physical violence. She does, however, like to tease in different ways...

She doesn't like being bruised, doesn't like it when she's slapped or manhandled a little too much. She does, however, like spankings quite a fair amount. It isn't often that she decides to be bratty, but it always follows one clear goal: to get her a spanking harsh enough that it stings, so that her pale ass sports handprints and is bruised up slightly. This aside, Bela dislikes most bruises, not even enjoying hickeys placed on her due to how "unproffesional" they make her look

🌙Breasts

Bela's breasts are of decent size, and her nipples are sensitive. She loves playing with her partner's breasts, to grip and squeeze, but perhaps even more so to lazily lick and suck at one nipple while toying with the other. She's painfully good at it, her fingers precise, her mouth nice and warm and tongue skilled. She'll easily drag moans from someone by rolling their nipple between her fingers, her nails dragging lightly over the sensitive flesh

When she's the one submitting, it's often her breasts that have her gasp. Bela is a big fan of nipple clamps due to how sensitive her breasts are. No matter how tough the proud Dimitrescu heir tries to act, the moment attention is turned to her body, her breasts especially, she gives away just how much she is enjoying it all

⚜️ C – Cum, Control, Claimed, Can’t

🌙Cum

As innocent as Bela may come across due to her inexperience as it comes to most dirtier kinks and aspects of sex, Bela knows what she wants, and is more naughty than she lets on. For example, she loves cum. She loves to taste her partner’s and her own cum, and especially enjoys sucking her own fingers clean of it after fingering herself with them. She can be either a creamer or squirter, she can’t control either. She loves when she eats her lover out, and regularly does so, and in turn enjoys tasting her cum on their tongue after they ate her out. Her love for cum comes out especially as a submissive, when she's leashed and made to lap at her lover's pussy for hours, licking up every little bit of cream, or when she eagerly- albeit blushing wildly- licks her own cum off their fingers or strap after she's been fucked. And, lastly, something one might not expect from the Bela Dimitrescu, is how dearly she enjoys being covered in cum. Should she be with a woman sporting a cock, she may not say she want a facial or to be covered in it, but will pant every time she feels warm cum slap against her stomach, lick it up from her cheeks each time it misses her mouth, and groan lowly whenever she feels the thick, warm cum settle deep inside of her. She can't help herself, and especially as a sub it's painfully obvious how needy she gets for it, as she usually just takes it when in the dominant role

🌙Control

Bela can be quite a gentle Mistress, but she demands utter control nonetheless, and shamelessly takes it otherwise. She's prideful, intelligent, and strong, and she knows exactly what she wants and gets it- always. With Bela, there is no bratting, no being bad, no thinking whether or not to give up control. She is always in control with her pets, can always make her lovers drop to their knees with as much as a look. She's gentle at times, but ruthless nonetheless, ensuring her partner knows they are owned to the core

As a sub, however, Bela craves control in a different way. She then craves giving control up. Her life is stressful, her days long and difficult, her tasks no easy things to conquer, her sisters difficult to manage on most days. Sometimes, it gets a little much, and giving control up just feels so right. She then loves to not think at all, to simply be a good girl and obey. When she feels taken care of and loved, she easily and willingly gives up all control for her partner

🌙Claimed

Bela always ensures her partner knows who they belong to. She isn't forceful, usually, but always claims them nonetheless. Her pets are always claimed with collars, her partners always sport a bite mark by their throat and are practically drenched in her scent until especially her sisters- who by far kill the most humans in the castle- know not to touch that one. During sex, Bela occaisonally whisper possessively in their ears, but rarely leaves more mark than her usual bites and kisses

As a submissive, Bela wants to feel claimed. She wants to feel full, sensitive, wants their body on top of hers, their hands holding her thin wrists tightly. Her favorite and dirtiest way of wanting to be claimed is by being bred and plugged after, when she not only feels claimed in the moment, but for the entire day still, and a good time after the plug is removed and she drips onto her tight panties

🌙Can’t

Bela can't stay quiet for the life of her during sex when she's the one being toyed with. Especially when taken where someone might hear, a hand slapped over her mouth is a must. She'll moan, squeal, occaisonally even scream. Additionally, Bela physically cannot get herself to stay still when her lover pushes a plug in her ass and has her keep it in. She's far too sensitive, whimpers every few seconds, and squirms helplessly

🪰 D – Dirty secret, Desperation, Domination, Do’s

🌙Dirty secret

My my, despite coming across as innocent perhaps, Bela has a fair share of dirty secrets

For example, sweet Bela has a raging Mommy kink, especially as a submissive. In fact, this is one of her biggest kinks on both sides. She's more of a gentle dom on most days, but it drives her crazy and makes her grip just a little tighter when her lover begs for just Please, Mommy, more.... How could she not give in? She, in turn, loves to call her lovers "Mommy", too, and having them refer to themselves as such can drive the pretty blonde crazy and will always have her clench around their fingers or strap. Her Mommy kink can easily be exploited and used to make her submit and obey within moments, or simply to catch her off guard, too. For example, while Bela might just like to consider herself above it, she might just automatically drop to her knees if one of the older maids- in a life or death situation- cupped her cheek and whispered something along the lines of kneel for Mommy along her skin

A perhaps even dirtier secret is another kink of hers, one she will never openly talk about or bring up, but one that gets her going like little else: watersports. Like the former, Bela is big on this on as a top and bottom, but equally hesitant about bringing it up to her lovers in fear of rejection. She just loves to hold her lovers close to her, will often play with them in the bath and rub at their clits a little too much when she fingers them, her arm around them holding them still while she presses down on their bladder. She'll keep going until a real mess is created, cooing and reassuring her lovers, acting as though she wasn't pushing them towards it, like she was oblivious to her hand pressing down on their bladder and as though she didn't hear their little gasps and Bela...! as a warning and plead. As a submissive, she's far more shy about this kink, being the one to actually wet herself, but she absolutely loves it. While making her partner wet themselves is her favorite part of watersports as a top, bathroom control is her favorite aspect of it as a submissive. Watersports is something she is extremely shy about, but something that really, really gets her going

And lastly, there is breeding. Poor Bela secretly goes wild for it, for being held down and bred just right, for getting her tight pussy stretched out and filled. She won't admit it, of course, but the mere thought of her with a cum swollen belly is enough to make her blush and feel hot and bothered. Once, only once, a misfiguired moroaica was to be brought back to the dungeons by her, and she swears just once she gave it when she felt it's moldy hands by her skin and thick cock slapping against her hip. She would never tell anyone what happened that day, could never tell her mother why she so dearly wanted to keep that moroaica. She would never admit to letting the transformed, braindead thing rut into her when she'd feel particularly needy and her breeding kink was acting up, but even centuries after, when the thing is long dead, she thinks of it, feeling both embarassment and need

🌙Desperation

Bela lives for seeing her lovers become desperate. She likes to tease and toy them until they pant and moan. She's gentle, but insatiable, and patient. She can easily push someone to the brink of insanity and make them beg and sob out little pleas, utterly desperate for her. And she loves it, deep down

As a submissive, Bela is far more desperate than as a top. When she's turned on, she needs her lover, needs to be touched and played with. She's the most desperate during edgings, practically crying with need when she's teased and just doesn't get what she needs

🌙Domination

She's a rather gentle, seductive top, prefering sensual touches and ruining her lovers with practiced ease and strategic touches than wild ones. She's the type to make her partners cry when they cum, completely overcome with their need, love, and desperation, and the type to make them submit within a heartbeat. She likes to take her time with her lovers and dislikes being rushed. She values and rewards good behaviour and doesn't stand for bad behaviour and is not the biggest on brat taming, preferring obedient lovers instead

As a submissive, she likes her partners rough, eager, but loving. She wants to be praised plenty while still being teased, wants to be held down and kissed, seduced and toyed with. She's a good girl, most of the time, but needs someone capable of handling her when she decides to be a little brat, too

🌙Do's

A big Do for her is eye contact. She likes to look at her partners when she is being ruined, and she likes to see that beautiful, hot haze in their eyes when the pleasure gets too much for their minds. She likes to watch as she ruins them. As a submissive, a massive Do is to pay attention to her body and to play with her breasts or nipples, to squeeze at her thighs or kiss her roughly. She's sensitive, and she likes when her partners exploit just that

⚜️ E – Experience, Edging, Exposed, Euphoria

🌙Experience

Bela has by far the least experience out of her sisters. She works most of the time, prioritizing her tasks over her private life. She dislikes having sex outside of a relationship, barely even has it at all save for the few times she takes a pet in or seduces a maid for a night of hoping to handle the stress. And even in a relationship, Bela is not particularly experienced with the kinkier aspects of sex, even as she's perfectly experienced at vanilla-type of sex. Generally she is more experienced as a top than she is as a submissive, even as she submits more often when in a relationship

🌙Edging

While she likes to overstimulate rather than edge her partners, Bela is at times in a rather cruel mood and will often use edging as a punishment earned after bratting or so. She can easily keep at it for hours, tie her partners up and leave them by her desk as she works, occaisonally smirk as another orgasm is ruined for them, over, and over, and over again. She loves to see them break for her, go from crying for an orgasm to shivering and whimpering, unsure whether they will even receive one at the end of their tortment

Ah, and speaking of torment: edging Bela is such a beautiful sight, though it's perhaps the cruellest to do so right after granting her a single orgasm, for she will be so overly sensitive she'll pant and squirm, cry out at every little touch and whimper when her second orgasm is ripped just out of reach. When submitting, edging is utter agony to her. Her entire body tense, her nipples hard. She'll beg so sweetly, cry fast, shake and tremble, her body helplessly sensitive and bringing her to another ruined orgasm within only a few minutes or, when feeling particularly good, as little as a minute, all only to have it taken from her again

🌙Exposed

Bela is a deeply private person and rarely indulges in her partners outside of the bedroom. Still, there is a chance when she's feeling particularly dirty that she'll take them in abandoned, locked room or in her office even. She will very rarely take them out in the open, however

As a submissive, Bela trusts her partner ideally, or else she doesn't sub for them at all. She'll trust them to take control, to decide where to do it for the most part. She won't complain about being taken in public places, and won't even think about it for long, for soon her mind will be hazy, lips will part to make way for loud, desperate moans, and thighs will be spread widely. There is always a gag of some kind needed with her like this, however, to ensure they aren't caught

🌙Euphoria

Bela lives for the moment her partner shatters. When they cry out for her, when their body tightens nicely for her. She likes to drink at their blood when they cum, likes to slide her tongue across their throats and will usually praise them after. When she cums, she feels pure euphoria, her body feeling as if on fire, her flies buzzing loudly, happy

🪰 F – Favorite position, Filth, Feral, Full

🌙Favorite position

As a top, she enjoys keeping her partner on her lap or simply bent over a desk or shelf. She likes being close to them, likes to hover over them or hold them to her, or to feel their weight on top of her. She wants to feel everything

As a submissive, she greatly enjoys the Cowgirl position, riding her partner, or the doggy style position. Both make her feel so aroused and shy at the same time, a perfect mix of humiliation and rawness. Both easily suggest she isn't nearly as innocent as she seems

🌙Filth

Bela is by far not the naughtiest out of her sisters, but she has a sharp tongue and a liking towards whispering filthy things into her lover's ear, especially when she's on top. She'll tease them by telling them how good they look and just how she will ruin them and, when in a degrading type of mood, call them filthy names that she knows only fuel their need. As a submissive, while enjoying some degrading words, she likes to keep it somewhat light most of the time, leaning heavily on praise

🌙Feral

Bela is not particularly feral, having grown out of that phase centuries ago and finding herself finding her composure easily these days. But, when she's particularly desperate or needy, she'll often still growl or snarl, her flies buzzing loudly whether she's on top or not. It doesn't happen particularly often, but can occur

🌙Full

Especially as a submissive, Bela likes to feel full. She's not much for anal on most days, but she likes taking large things in her sensitive pussy, likes the burn of being stretched out and filled to the limit. And when she is made to feel utterly full by being filled up? Her stomach flutters and pussy throbs. She loves being full, and loves to remain feeling full

⚜️ G – Goofy, Greed, Gripping, Glistening

🌙Goofy

This sister is hardly goofy at all, but rather serious, during sex . She won’t joke about, though smile a lot and have the time of her life. As a dom, she can be quite strict however, even as she still offers sweet smiles. To her, sex is intimate and shows her vulnerability, especially when she's in the role of the submissive. As such, she wouldn't appreciate laughter or jokes, but will happily giggle with her lovers after

🌙Greed

Despite being the least greedy out of her family, Bela knows what is rightfully hers, according to her, and will always take it. She rarely waits and never hesitates, but takes and claims what is hers. She'll toy with her lovers as long as she sees fit, but is more forgiving than her sisters, capable of feeling satisfied with as little as one round should her lover's endurance level and sex drive be very low

As it comes to her as a submissive, she's a little greedy still, yes, but above all Bela is a good girl doing only as she's told, when comfortable enough. She'll eagerly take what's given to her, and while she will at times plead and whine for more, she very rarely takes what she wants as a submissive

🌙Gripping

Her hands are usually gentler, holding, but not bruising, ticklish, but never painful. She rarely digs her fingers into her lover's thighs, well aware of how serious it could get in a split second if she applied a little too much pressure. She does like gripping her partner by their hair, however

As a submissive, Bela is- oddly enough- almost the exact opposite of this. She likes to be grabbed, likes it when fingers dig into her skin and she's manhandled just right. Never too much, but ideally not too little, either

🌙Glistening

Bela is wet, always. Whether on top or bottom, her pussy is soaked fast and especially when she's pushed down and has her nipples sucked, her pussy will soon be glistening with her wetness and she'll have little to no problem at all at taking something inside. She can't help it, and can't help just how needy she gets when she's lightly teased about how wet she is early on already

🪰 H – Hair, Handprints, Heated, Harnessed

🌙Hair

Bela stays shaven at all times, even when she doesn’t expect sex or stripping naked anyway. She likes the control over her body when everything else in her life seems stressful, and likes the look of her own body when shaved. She also enjoys being able to see something enter her without hair obstructing the view. On a different note, she likes to hold onto her partner's hair, or have hers tugged or held, though never too harshly. She appreciates her dominant partners grabbing her by the roots rather than the tips of her hair when yanking it, reducing the pain at least a little

🌙Handprints

Despite not giving many spankings, Bela's physical punishments hurt. Her spankings are ruthless, leaving handprints across her lover's ass and thighs. She always starts out targeting their sitting spot, but usually ccontinues on beyond that once she's satisfied, not stopping until all of her lover's ass and the back of their thighs are red and her hand prints are visible on them. She generally does not give such harsh spankings unless pushed to do it, and while she loves to be spanked herself, she gets relatively little enjoyment out of spanking someone else for an extended period of time

🌙Heated

Very similar to her sisters due to sharing their biology, Bela very rarely feels warm. Her body has difficulty producing heat most of the time, taking longer and more energy to do so. She loves being made to feel warm, therefore, even as this usually comes when she's submitting. Her skin becomes especially heated when she's teased, when she's fucked hard or when her clit and nipples are played with, when her throat is kissed and when she feels shy, almost. She feels the warmest when she feels someone cum within her, even as that is incredibly rare due to the circumstances at the castle

🌙Harnessed

Bela is best with her fingers and mouth, but would absolutely wear a strap for her lover, too. She likes to try different sizes for herself, but finds one of decent lenght and size and a comfortable texture more effective than most overly big ones. She likes to take her lovers from the back like this, though enjoys using her hands perhaps even more

She's a good girl and will take what is given to her, whether that is a strap, fingers, oral, or more. She'll beg for it all, and with how wet she is, it's easy to push inside of her. She does like to experiment with straps she can take, however, testing how far she can push it until she can't take it anymore. She is quite an experimentalist as it comes to this, eager to try new toys for her lover to use on her

⚜️ I – Intimacy, Intensity, Insatiable, Innocence

🌙Intimacy

99% of the time she cares deeply and a lot for who she sleeps with. Unlike her sisters, she won’t just pluck a random maid and take her to bed unless she is extremely frustrated, sexually, or uses stress as a way to escape an overwhelming amount of stress. She likes to kiss and even hold hands during sex, and mix in words of praise and affection when she degrades her partners. And despite liking it rough when she isn't the one in charge, she values kisses, praise, and littler kisses pressed to her skin

🌙Intensity

While being on the softer side of things, generally, Bela can be incredibly intense when she's on top. She likes to drag her partners to the point where every little touch feels as though lightning shoots through them, and likes to have them gasp for every little thing she does. A single brush of her fingertip, a little kiss, a mere finger dipping inside of them, enough to make them jolt and gasp for her

🌙Insatiable

Bela is, simply put, less insatiable than her sisters. She doesn't need to have sex for hours to have fun and be satisfied, though enjoys taking her time with her lovers. While she can be tired out somewhat fast as a submissive, Bela can last for a long time as a top, and is often seen as insatiable by her partners when she continues on, until they're begging and crying and moaning beautifully for her

🌙Innocence

Bela is by far not innocent. She is no virgin, despite how comparing the times she takes a maid to her chambers and the times her sisters do can make her seem so. She's not incredibly experienced as it comes to kinkier aspects of sex, but often her thoughts are anything but pure. The one aspect that might just have her appear innocent is that Bela very rarely picks up on hints unless her partner is quite bold about them. Often, she only understands what they are trying to get at by the time she's wet and flustered already

🪰 J – Jack off, Jealousy, Jaw, Juicy

🌙Jack off

She jacks off significantly less often than her sisters, too busy and caught up in her work and with keeping them from causing trouble to even think of allowing herself to take care of her own needs. Is she in a relationship however, she will often ask for help in her breaks, claiming it helps her with the tension in her body and with the stress, or allow her partner to seduce her into fooling around whenever she can make time for it

🌙Jealousy

Now, Bela likes to think and claim she is not a jealous person. Her? Jealous? When she is the Dimitrescu heiress? The Bela Dimitrescu? Certainly not! That is, until she sees someone look at her partner with a foul- or, perhaps even worse, an eager- look in their eyes. Perhaps it is fair to state that, unlike her sisters, Bela at the very least acts subtly. If one did not pay attention to it, they might not even notice all who tried to be foolish around her or her partner suddenly disappearing and reappearing in the castle's dungeons, cut and bloody, locked in a cell and almost presented like a gift to Bela's younger sister. When confronted, Bela claims that it's just that: A gift for Cassandra, a way to keep her occupied so she doesn't cause trouble, means to control who goes into the empty cells, and so on. Her pride will not have her voice that she got jealous, though at times she doesn't outright deny it

What really has Bela feel flustered, however, is seeing her partner jealous and possessive over her. She's quite used to a maid here or there trying to shoot their shot at her. She's confident, and she knows why she catches some of the staff's eye, even as she very rarely (and in a relationship, never) entertains their advances. As such, she often either does not notice when she's subtly flirted with, or just doesn't care. Ah- but should her lover care, it gets her so incredibly wet. She'll press her thighs together, hoping to be subtle, and never take her eyes off of them. She never asks them to conceal their jealousy or possessiveness, but won't admit how needy it gets her, either

🌙Jaw

Bela likes to hold onto her lover's face and kiss over it, from their cheeks to their jaw, and down to their throat. She likes when the same is done to her, though doesn't quite like it when hands linger by her jaw for too long. She just dislikes the feeling of it

🌙Juicy

Bela's pussy is, very often when in a relationship, already wet and juicy. She becomes soaked fast, squirms easily, and blushes quickly. She's unused to being in a relationship and being seduced and doing so will have her blush, gasp, and become irresistably wet in no time. She gets far wetter and needier when in a submissive position

⚜️ K – Kinks, Kneeling, Kiss, Killing

🌙Kinks

Among many kinks, one stands out particularly much for this sister; Bela’s very, very strong and undeniable praise kink. Her knees feel weak at the smallest of praises and her cheeks light up, her efforts double and she becomes so needy when more and more praise is given to her. This kink comes in especially hard when she's submitting to her partner, but even as a top she'll increase her efforts and sigh dreamily, pant lowly and groan below her breath when praised. It's an absolute need to her

As mentioned above, Bela also has a raging Mommy kink. She loves being called so, and loves to call others so. She loves when she's on her back, strong fingers thrusting in and out of her, her lips parted while a pair of wet lips suck and brush against her nipples and she begs; Please, Mommy....more...!

Another previously mentioned kink is her love towards breeding. This is one of the few kinks that is strongest and mainly comes up when she's submissive. She loves the thought of cum drooling from her pussy and mouth after an intense breeding session, when she's left exhaused and cradled, her stomach bulged, her body on fire still. She'd go particularly crazy if she was praised and teased afterwards, her pussy plugged or caressed while her partner coos something along the lines of what a good Mommy she will be

Perhaps rather surprisingly, Bela makes such a cute rope bunny. She likes being tied up, especially in smooth, tight rope that looks beautiful against her pale skin. She particularly enjoys being praised for how beautiful she looks like this, and she likes the fact she's usually completely restrained like that, rope teasing her between her legs and around her breasts, keeping her thighs spread and her arms tied behind her back. And even as a top she likes to tie her lovers up. She loves to take her time when she does so, humming and dragging her fingers over them teasingly as she ties the knots and adds finishing touches

🌙Kneeling

Often, Bela makes her lovers kneel for her. She has a bit of a God Complex already- which grows quite large on somedays- and this even shows itself a little in the bedroom. When in the dominant role, Bela likes being worshipped quite literally. She likes to make her lovers kneel for her and moan for more, likes it when their touches are soft and feverish almost, like they can't get enough of her when she allows them to eat her out

When submitting, Bela often kneels. She is- most of the time anyway- a prime example of a good girl

🌙Kiss

Bela is a good kisser, and the type of kiss she wants is usually dependent on her mood- though it can be said that she just very rarely enjoys french kissing. As a top, she'll often enjoy deep, passionate and intimate kisses while she ruins her partner. As a submissive, she likes all type of kisses, though gentle ones and sweet, almost worshipping ones against her skin are among her favorites

🌙Killing

Out of all the Dimitrescu family members Bela is the least likely to kill her partners, whether in a relationship or not. In general, it's rare she kills, unless she has a reason to. As such, the only times she does kill are the rare times she finds the time to go hunt with her sisters, or to end the life of someone hurting or trying to get too close to her youngest sister. That aside, she's rarely seen displaying violence. She will not mind it if her lover kills and is not turned on or off by it, though she will frown if they mess up her private spaces by doing so

🪰 L – Location, Lingerie, Love Bites, Lap

🌙Location

She usually sticks to the privacy of her room for pretty much all sexual activities, sometimes even her office, and rarely risks doing anything outside of those spaces. Only when she feels particularly needy will she dismiss her worries regarding a location and even start her sexual game in semi public places, or allow her lovers to do so

🌙Lingerie

She usually wears a simple, but hot pair of black panties that suit her well, though when she tries to surprise her lover, Bela likes to switch it up. Whether on top or bottom she likes to look good, enjoying her signature red colour and black and white lingerie on her- black, usually a colour she wears when she's in a dominant mood, and white when feeling submissive. She will let her lover pick her underwear whenever they want when she's the submissive one, and gets a thrill out of it. She secretly likes wearing slutty lingerie beneath her clothing, knowing it's only a matter of time until her lover strips her and takes them off her again, or simply shoves their hand in them, toys with her clit and whispers in her ear about how good she looks in them

🌙Love Bites

She likes to place her love bites along her lover's thighs or throat, and very rarely at their hips. She, in turn, likes to be bitten as well, but prefers it when any marks are placed in areas that are easy to cover up. She's a private person and while she always proudly shows off her partner, this does not apply to any marks created during sex- not since she once forgot to cover up a hickey and Daniela teased her for weeks for it and Mother attempted to track down and kill whoever created it, insisting no one could be suitable for her precious eldest

🌙Lap

Sitting in her partner's lap always puts Bela in a deeply submissive headspace. She isn't sure why, but it always gets the job done without fail. She'll be cuddlier, kiss more, hum and grind down slowly when particularly desperate. Her favorite way of cockwarming is by sitting on her partner's lap, even as she feels tormented by it, barely capable of staying still for even only a few seconds. Bela is the type to enjoy being sat on her partner's lap, holding onto their shoulders and drinking from their neck, her back arched and pussy clinging to their fingers as she's made to cum on them

⚜️ M – Motivation, Mouth, Mind, Morning

🌙Motivation

What really motivates and gets her going is dirty talk or teasing, as well as exploiting her weaknesses such as her praise kink. Using her mommy kink against her will never fail to rile her up. Whether dominant or submissive, Bela responds to it and will often enough either tease right back, put her lover in their place, or give into what they offer eagerly

🌙Mouth

Bela is generally quite good with her mouth. She likes to eat her lovers out, and she likes receiving oral. She likes to suck her partner's fingers, especially after they've been inside of her, and she loves pushing hers into their mouths after she was inside of them. As a submissive, as a brat especially, Bela isn't unused to her mouth getting put to work. Often, her brattiness has her end up either with a gag stretching her lips around it, forcing her to either be quiet or keeping her mouth wide open and vulnerable, or it has her suck on her lover's fingers and straps, her eyes wide and apologetic, her ass stinging still, her mouth doing wonders for them to make it up to them

🌙Mind

Bela, especially when on top, likes breaking her lover's minds. She likes when they think only of her, and she loves to ruin them to the point they can't even string up a proper sentence anymore, turning to cries and moans as means to beg instead. She loves seeing them so utterly ruined, and she loves her being the reason for it

🌙Morning

The morning after- Bela is an early bird. She likes to have a comfortable morning after, spent cuddling and cleaning up before she has to keep on working. Sometimes, however, she works up quite a mood in the morning. Usually this is when she fell asleep with fingers or a toy still inside of her, having cockwarmed it throughout the night and then waking up with a massive appetite. When on top, she'll wake her lovers with kisses and bites to their throat, but immediately begin touching them up when they show signs of being in the same type of mood. As a submissive, she'll often grind against what is still inside of her, moaning and gasping by her lover's ear. She's too prideful to wake them to help her out, but will indirectly try doing just that, still, being far too much of a good girl to just take what she needs

🪰 N – No, Neediness, Nipples, Noise

🌙No

Anything regarding feet and scat is a big no to her. She considers herself near royal! She dislikes the idea of fisting most of the time, too, and would never want to actually be taken in front of others she does not trust or trust her lover to take care of after. Bela wouldn't enjoy being publicly humiliated and would therefore despise being put in a collar she's actually incapable of removing while her lover is out. And lastly, a big "no" to her is degrading her too harshly. She likes being degraded, partly, but only so long as it comes with heavy praise. She likes being a silly, pretty thing. She would not appreciate being called anything that actually makes her feel bad, however. She's a lot more sensitive than one might think

🌙Neediness

She's capable of making her lovers yearn for her, easily turning them into needy, helpless little things for her. But what really gets her needy is when she's the one submitting

🌙Nipples

Bela's nipples are incredibly sensitive, though there is always room to make them even more so. While she won't admit it, she likes being made to wear nipple clamps and likes when her nipples are sucked until they're incredibly sore and sensitive to the lightest touches. While the pain of a piercing and the fact her body healing up make a piercing impossible, she does like the idea of sporting a little piercing- a ring- by her nipples. if she was not so worried about the pain and it was possible, she would perhaps agree to one. What she does love as a submissive, however, are tight nipple rings that keep her adorably sensitive for hours. Additionally, especially as a submissive she likes to suck at her partner's nipples, when told to do so

🌙Noise

Despite being known for how calm and collected she is, Bela is quite the opposite during sex. She's loud, offering whimpers, moans and cries or- when pushed particularly hard- even a scream or two. Gagging her is a must, most of the time, which is quite a shame

⚜️ O– Oral, Obsession, Overstimulation, Open-minded

🌙Oral

She's incredible with her mouth. Her skilled tongue works wonders and she never fails to give immense pleasure to her partners in only a short amount of time. She likes giving oral, but also enjoys receiving it. Her clit is the most sensitive part of her, as well as her nipples, and she can cum again embarassingly fast when her clit is sucked or rubbed directly after an orgasm

🌙Obsession

Bela is obsessed when in a relationship. While she rarely gets jealous without some kind of reason to it, she is constantly obsessed. She likes knowing where her lover is, always, and justifies it by claiming she wants to know due to safety reasons. She loves making sure they smell like her, and likes to keep an eye on them whenever she can

🌙Overstimulation

Overstimulating Bela is an easy task. She's insanely sensitive after an orgasm and can therefore easily be pushed and overstimulated over, and over again until her body shuts down, her flies buzz loudly, then become almost numb and leave her slumping against her partner, her swarm unreachable and quiet for the next few minutes. She likes overstimulation, but finds it's sweet torture, too, especially when her clit is targeted by her partner

As a top, Bela is particularly fond of overstimulation, just because she can't get enough of the cute noises her partners offer. She'll often wear them out like this, have them switch and shiver and shake for her in no time at all

🌙Open-minded

Bela is somewhat open minded. She won't try something she feels she has no interest in or has doubts about, and always weighs the risk as it comes to anything even possibly including other people. This aside, she's quite open to trying out any new toys or kinks her lover introduces her to

🪰 P – Pace, Praise, Porn, Plural

🌙Pace

The pace she chooses is usually quite dependant on her mood. Is she in charge, and isn’t riled up, she will usually go for a fast, but sensual pace. She likes to drive them to the edge, likes to see every little reaction they can offer her, even as she is plenty capable of railing her lovers too, fast and rough, until they squeal and gasp for breath

Is she on the submitting side, she likes it however her partner gives it to her. She loves it fast and rough and being overstimulated by it, and she enjoys the sensual touches, the slow pace, the slow, gentle rubs over her clit and the warm tongue around her nipple that has her body twitch and heat up within moments

🌙Praise

Unsurprisingly by now, Bela is huge on praise. While she likes to praise her lovers when she's on top and be praised while dominating them, her praise kink is perhaps most extreme when she's submitting. She loves to be teased, loves to be sat in her partner's lap, kissed and groped, her breasts cupped or clit rubbed, filthy praises spoken in her ear about how good she feels or how beautiful she is, how cute her reactions are to every little touch. Praising her is a must, and is an especially good way to start things out and something to include in foreplay. It never fails to turn her on when spoken in her ear or against her skin in a low, filthy voice

🌙Porn

Bela does not indulge in any form of porn- she reads no filthy books, unlike her sister, and she would not look at filthy magazines or videos given there were any at the castle. She would think it tasteless and brain numbing and deeply disapprove of porn itself

🌙Plural

Bela is- a bit of a tough one as it comes to doing things with multiple partners. She's quite capable of dominating and pleasuring multiple submissives at the same time, but lacks the time or urge to play with just anyone, usually. She has sex with a partner, and is she not in a poly relationship, it's highly unlikely for her to dominate multiple people at the same time, despite being quite able to

As a submissive, it's a little different. While Bela fantasizes of being dominated- usually quite harshly and in a quite feral way, too- by multiple people, these often remain daydreams. For even when her partner suggests a threesome, she would not want to share the spotlight, and is quite unwilling to have sex with someone she might casually meet again or cross paths with, while in a relationship. Again, the only times she might indulge in such things is when being in a poly relationship, or being seduced by two or more maidens while not being in a relationship at all

⚜️ Q– Quickie, Quivering, Quiet

🌙Quickie

Whether or no she agrees to quickies depends entirely on how desperate she feels. She tends to go for proper sessions as both- a dominant partner and submissive one-, but will take quickies if she feels riled up too much, especially as a submissive. Often, she is forced to have quickies rather than take proper time to play with her lover due to how little time she has and how much she works

🌙Quivering

Bela likes to leave her partners quivering beneath her, gasping for breath and trembling. She likes to feel them quiver around her fingers especially, their bodies so nice and warm, their hole tight around her. In return, she enjoys the same being done to her when she's the one submitting to her partner

🌙Quiet

When on her own, Bela manages to be somewhat quiet, her noises usually merely being little gasps, dreamy sighs, quiet moans into a pillow or her hand and cute, little groans. When she is with someone else, however, this changes drastically and she becomes much, much louder, often having to be gagged or fucked into the pillows to reduce some of her louder noises

🪰 R – Risk, Rough, Riding, Railing

🌙Risk

She's generally on the safer side of things, preferring to take little risks. As a submissive, however, she especially likes the thrill of the risk of being caught, not to be confused by actually being caught. She would never want that to happen, but greatly enjoys it when she can trust her lover enough to let them take her in semi-public places, knowing they would never put her through the unwelcome humiliation of truly being caught

🌙Rough

Bela is a softer, tender dominant, but- she is certainly also capable of being rough. She knows just how to make perfect use of her strength when she needs to, holding her lover tight and keeping them in place easily while she takes them rough. Often, her roughness is triggered by jealousy, possessiveness, or when she feels particularly needy. As a submissive, she likes soft treatment, and rough one

🌙Riding

She can't say she rides a lot, though is exceptionally good at it. With her soft, round breasts, slim hips and body and thick, fleshy thighs, Bela makes a strikingly beautiful image. She looks beautiful on top of her lover, her pussy stuffed, her hips rolling and her head thrown back, blonde hair ticklish by her sides and back. She likes to ride, whether on top or as a submissive

🌙Railing

Bela's favorite way to rail is to bend her lover over her office's desk, their full ass bouncing for her, their back exposed. Her favorite way to be railed is on her hands and knees in the bed, her body trembling, her face pushed into the sheets, muffling her noises a little. She especially likes littler spanks to her ass like this, or nipple clamps by her chest to rub up against the bed as she's railed

⚜️ S– Stamina, Scissor, Sounds, Surrender

🌙Stamina

She has more endurance when giving, but still quite a lot when she's on the receiving end. She will be satisfied soon enough, her body overstimulated easily and trembling fast, even as she's capable of taking more still. She secretly loves it when her partners make her do just that, holding her down or commanding her to keep going

🌙Scissor

Bela loves scissoring. Her clit is incredibly sensitive- even more so after an orgasm. She loves the mess it creates and how raw it is, whether in the dominant or submissive position. She especially goes crazy about scissoring when in the submissive role and her partner plugs her ass, increasing her sensitivity even further, or when she's collared and leashed and it's used to make her rock her hips against those of her partner

🌙Sounds

Most of her sounds are moans and gasps, squeals, whimpers and groans, though she will occasionally scream and whine, too

🌙Surrender

While she does like to be a brat from time to time, Bela is a good girl most of the time, easily giving up control and willingly surrendering to her partner. When she's bratty, she likes to tease them, but will often obey most commands, still, albeit while giggling and touching herself a little more than she is meant to. As a top, she generally prefers well behaved partners, too

🪰 T – Toys, Thighs, Torment, Tiny

🌙Toys

Much unlike her sisters, Bela has far less sex toys. She does have favorites, however

She loves vibrators! Bela is incredibly sensitive already, and can get off very, very fast with a vibrator. She usually uses one to cum when she's on her own, preferring a fast orgasm to "get it done with". She likes to use vibrators on herself, but goes crazy when her partner uses them on her, too. Especially when she's tied up and helpless, crying and trembling as it continues buzzing against her overly sensitive clit after she's already orgasmed once

A close second is a strap. She likes wearing it herself, even as she prefers using her fingers and mouth, and she likes receiving it. Seeing as she is more submissive leaning, she likes the strap better on her partner, and it drives her crazy to see and feel the bulge in their pants from it, especially when it comes as a surprise. Nothing will ever make her submit faster than being yanked to the ground by her hair and getting her cheek smudged against the bulge, knowing what will come next. She likes to ride the strap, and likes to experiment with different sizes

And lastly, although these are rather accessories, Bela likes plugs and rope. She isn't huge on anal, but loves plugs due to how sensitive she gets when one is in, and is often curious about trying different sizes. She loves rope, loves being restrained, and is into more skillful rope playing especially, such as Shibari

🌙Thighs

Bela's thighs are soft, but thick, gentle and sensitive. She likes how they look in her dress, and while she doesn't understand it, she allows her lovers sporting a cock or strap to fuck her soft thighs, easily getting off to the feeling of them before they take her

🌙Torment

Bela is, generally, a rather giving lover. She doesn't torment a lot, unless her partner is asking for it and misbehaving for her. In return, however, she likes being tormented even when she's been a good girl. Her favorite ways to torment brats is by edging them or depriving them of their senses and spanking them, whereas her "favorite" torment is when her partner mercilessly overstimulates her

🌙Tiny

Bela is not tiny, really, but that doesn't mean she doesn't enjoy feeling as such when she's in a submissive type of mood. She's light, and she likes feeling it. She loves when she's tied up and when she's tugged and pulled in position, held down and toyed with, completely at her partner's mercy. She won't admit to having a size kink, but being with a partner physically larger and stronger than her can do things to her...

⚜️ U– Unfair, Unrelenting, Underwear, Us

🌙Unfair

She is the fairest of the sisters, unless her lover misbehaved and now finds themselves in trouble. Then she will tease and go far enough to drag a few tears from them. Never too much, however, not ever enough to break beyond repair. She isn’t sadistic like that by any means and doesn’t want her partners sobbing underneath her unless it is from an overwhelming amount of pleasure, perhaps. As a submissive, she likes when her partners are unfair, when they take advantage of what turns her on and use it against her, when they taunt and tease her for it lightly

🌙Unrelenting

Bela is satisfied when her lover is satisfied, usually, when on top. She's very giving and doesn't mind whether it takes a short or long while to have her lover feel good

🌙Underwear

She usually wears simple, black underwear, but is happy to wear lingerie when in a relationship, just to surprise her partner with after. Underwear itself doesn't necessarily turn her on, though Bela likes taking control of what her partner wears when she's the dominant one between the two of them, and likes being told what to wear as a submissive. As such, she'll at times squirm, pearls between her pussy lips belonging to flimsy underwear she's been put in. She loves the thrill of it, and secretly loves being made to wear slutty things while having to keep up the facade of the strong, proud, dominant Dimitrescu heiress

🌙Us

Sex rarely means nothing to Bela. Sure, when she isn't in a relationship and feels the need to relieve some stress, she likes to play around with a pet maid or two. But, generally, she prefers being with someone she cares for, and someone who cares for her. Even during sex she wants to know they're an item, one for the other, together

🪰 V – Volume, Vulnerable, Violence, Video

🌙Volume

While being capable of being quiet as a top, being submissive looks different to her: In a way in which she is very, very loud. Poor, sensitive little Bela can’t keep quiet unless she is made to. Perhaps at the start, but after minutes and sweet touches she is already a moaning mess. Upon being pleasured more and more and overstimulated, she can turn into a screamer. It’s best to keep this one gagged if she doesn’t want to be heard, to slap a hand across her mouth or some tape- both which she secretly finds incredibly arousing- to shove something down her throat or make her lips stretch prettily around a large gag capable of muffling most of her sounds at least

🌙Vulnerable

Bela likes feeling vulnerable as a submissive and likes making her lovers feel the same when they're the ones to submit to her. She enjoys tying them up and being tied up when it's her on the receiving end, she likes exposing them and keeping them bare for her, and she likes the same being done to her. She likes to feel completely at their mercy, and takes pride knowing her lovers are always at hers when she's the one on top

🌙Violence

She isn't a violent person and would never seriously harm her partners, even if possessiveness or jealousy strikes. Perhaps her spankings could be considered the most violent thing she does, even as those never push it too far. She disapproves of violence during sex and won't stand for it when she's submitting, either, disliking harder slaps to her face and most things capable of drawing blood from her

🌙Video

If there was a way that allowed her to record herself having sex, she would likely have little use for it. On top of that, Bela is a deeply private person and wouldn't approve of someone- even a lover- having a video of her in such a setting

⚜️ W– Wild Card, Worship, Wild Card #2

🌙Wild Card

Perhaps something slightly out of the ordinary and somewhat a dirty secret of hers is her liking towards costumes as a submissive. Bela, in such a setting, is oddly into roleplaying even as she would not admit it. Her favorite is when a maid turns the table on her, putting her in their tight uniform, often even a smaller size that barely even covers her thick thighs and has her chest nearly pop out for them. She loves the light humiliation aspect of it, loves to be praised and teased. She loves when she's made to serve like that, on her knees, the uniform tight on her, sinking down on a toy and sucking her lover's fingers obediently. It's one of her dirtier, kinkier fantasies that she just rarely speaks on

🌙Worship

Already, Bela has something between a God- and Superiority complex. She can't help it, and it shows itself even in bed, when she is in the role of the dominant one. She lives for their parted lips and gasps when she leashes them and puts them on their knees, making them worship her with their touches, looks and words, until at last they are allowed to lap at her pussy. This type of behavior most commonly comes out in her when she's with a pet rather than a lover

🌙Wild Card #2

She won't admit it, and won't claim she likes petplay. But- there is something about being made into her lover's bunny. Oh, she loves it- though she’d never admit it right away. Fluffy ears to match her hair, a delicate little white collar with a bell, and a cute cotton tail to match her… she melts when someone calls her their “sweet little bunny.” It’s humiliating in the best way, and she always squirms at the praise, blushing furiously if they tell her she’s the cutest little thing. She’ll pretend she hates it, pretend like there isn't a part of her enjoying it so, so much, until they tug gently on her collar and tell her to hop on their lap like a good little bunny. Then she’s all too eager to obey. And if they stroke her hair, cooing about how good she is? She’s in heaven

🪰 X – X-Ray, X marks the spot

🌙X-Ray

Bela sports smooth, little muscles and nimble limbs. She is generally rather slim, with thick thighs and breasts and a round and soft, fairly sized ass

🌙X marks the spot

Touching her clit and breasts is the way to go- both are incredibly sensitive and a must to consider when she's on the receiving end. While she can cum when they're neglected, it takes much, much longer

⚜️ Y– Yearning, Yanking, Yes

🌙Yearning

Her level of yearning depends entirely on whether she is teased or not. Generally her sex drive isn’t the highest, though it is raised a little when she's in a relationship and makes time for sex

🌙Yanking

Bela loves leashes, and she loves yanking them. She'll allow her lover to yank at her hair a little, too, though refers leashes by far. There's just something about the weight by her throat and the harshness of a yank, the need to obey or else be moved whether she likes it or not...she loves it, and she thinks her partner looks quite dashing with the leash wrapped around their palm just before they give it a sharp yank again

🌙Yes

Yes- Bela is a good girl, and likes to obey. She likes being good, likes to be praised, and likes to follow clear commands in an otherwise stressful and confusing world

🪰 Z – Zzz

🌙Zzz

She naturally isn’t overly tired after sex, but likes to nap regardless, for comfort reasons. If she is on the receiving end, however, it can happen that she will pass out if she is toyed with long enough. She loves this, rest assured, and likes to wake up to a little surprise, such as a toy still inside of her or her body taken care of and cradled against her lover's

#bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #resident evil village #alcina dimitrescu #resident evil

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scoonsalicious · 1 year ago

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A Scoonsalicious Masterlist

All fics are 18+ Minors: GTFO; I don’t serve your kind here. I exclusively write for Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader at this point in time, for maladaptive self-indulgent purposes.

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

Individual fics will contain individual warnings.

Bucky Barnes

(Fluff 💖) (Smut ❤️‍🔥) (Angst 💔) (Horror 🖤) (Violence ❤️‍🩹) (AU 💞) (1k+ Notes 🏆)

Series

⚜️ The Pocket MCU: ❤️‍🩹 A series of miniseries and one-shot prequels featuring the MC from Unwanted, integrated into the existing narratives of the MCU films. ONGOING (Updated 5/20/24)

⚜️ Unwanted: ❤️‍🔥💔🏆When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn't be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust. COMPLETED 155.4k words (Epilogue Posted 04/27/24)

⚜️ Post-Unwanted: ❤️‍🔥💔💖 A series of miniseries and one-shot sequels set between Unwanted and Unbroken. ONGOING (Updated 11/18/24)

⚜️ Unbroken: An Unwanted Sequel: ❤️‍🔥💔💖‼️ It's a secret, but doesn't that title sound ridiculous?! BRAINSTORMING

⚜️ With Friends Like These...: ❤️‍🔥💔Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntyre never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You. WRITING (Updated 6/17/24)

One Shots

⚜️ Like a Fairy Tale: 💔💖🏆 Dating Bucky Barnes had been like living a fairy tale, but as he distances himself from you and your relationship, you come to the realization that maybe fairy tales aren't meant to come true. 3.4k words (Posted 3/4/24)

⚜️ Your Choice: ❤️‍🔥💖💞You're minding your own business at home one evening when local police Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes comes knocking on your door. Someone's reported a crime being committed on your property, and the sergeant can either bring you down to the station, or get you off with a warning... it's your choice. 4.3k words (Posted 3/5/24)

Upcoming

⚜️ Hunted ❤️‍🔥🖤❤️‍🩹 A plane crash leaves you stranded in the Canadian wilderness with the one person who can't seem to stand you: Your mission partner, Bucky Barnes. You'll have to work together and put your differences aside in order to survive and get rescued. Only, the two of you aren't alone; someone, or something, is watching you from the woods. WRITING

⚜️ Boys of Summer ❤️‍🔥💔💞 Every summer, the wealthy Barnes family escapes the heat of the city to their beach house on the New England coast, and every year for as long as you can remember, your father has been the caretaker of their property. Now your father's gone and you haven't seen Bucky Barnes since you two spent a summer night together when you were eighteen. Four years later, Bucky's returned with a slew of college friends in tow for the ultimate beach summer to celebrate his college graduation, and his recent engagement. PLANNING

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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coven-of-genesis · 3 months ago

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Welcome to the coven

🕯️🗝️🪞🏹👑🐈‍⬛⚜️🪐⚖️⏳🐦‍⬛🩶 💫

Welcome to Coven of Genesis—A sanctuary where ancient Italian witchcraft meets modern practice. As a 21-year-old generational Italian witch practicing since childhood, I delve into the mystical arts, sharing insights on spells, rituals, and the magical properties of everyday herbs.

Sharing a blend of glamour magic, white witchcraft, green witchcraft, and traditional Italian folk magic. Whether you’re a seasoned practitioner or new to the craft, you’ll find a trove of knowledge here to guide and inspire your spiritual journey.

If you’d like to commission a birth chart breakdown, matrix chart explanation, tarot reading, or spell, please contact me through my Patreon — not via direct messages.

{About me: 21, Italian living in Australia, Libra. She/Her}

୨୧ Please support me by joining my Patreon ୨୧

Blog Masterlist ༯

< Feel free to join my community >

Buy my book! Colourful Intentions: A Journey into Spiritual Colour-Magic

✨ If you like my posts or enjoy what I share, a little tip goes a long way 💖

☕ Support me on Buy Me a Coffee

Socials :

Linktree 🪽

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Disclaimer: I do not offer readings about celebrities. My readings are not a substitute for professional advice (psychological, medical, or otherwise). Always use your own discernment and consider multiple perspectives.

#welcome to my blog #coven of genesis #text #text post

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xjoonchildx · 1 year ago

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kanalia | jhs x reader | final chapter: because i couldn't stay away

banner by the amazing @kth1 💕

⚜️summary: secrets and uncertainty plague a young queen in her arranged marriage to a kind but distant king. the farther she drifts from her husband, the closer she gets to one of his most trusted men.

⚜️pairing: queen!reader x royalguard!hoseok

⚜️rating: mature, 18+

⚜️genre: royal AU, historical AU, smut

⚜️warnings: infidelity (it’s complicated, y’all) mentions of pregnancy, fertility issues. OC struggles with depressive thoughts and episodes. smut warnings in effect.

⚜️word count: 10.2K

⚜️author's note: happy birthday month to my forever muse, jung hoseok. i hope that i did this poor, tortured version of you some justice. and yes, it did take me years to finish this story (😭) , but i did. thank you to every single who has ever taken an interest in this story and cared enough to stick with me through long delays and rough writing spells. once again, i have to shout out the OG @hobi-gif who lent her eyes to part of this story. i appreciate you all so much and if you enjoyed it, i would very much appreciate a reblog as well as your feedback.

thank you guys so, so much 💕

previous chapter masterlist

Love doesn't discriminate Between the sinners and the saints It takes and it takes and it takes And we keep loving anyway We laugh and we cry and we break And we make our mistakes And if there's a reason I'm by her side When so many have tried Then I'm willing to wait for it I'm willing to wait for it

– “Wait for It”

Hamilton, An American Musical

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

One perfect loop is followed by another. And another. And another.

You need not look back and check your work, not anymore. Now you know simply by the pull of the thread that each stitch you place is snug and uniform. You sit in your chair by the fire and repeat the motion over and over again, staring unseeing into the pattern in your lap.

“It’s a beautiful day, Your Grace.”

Hyeri’s voice taps at the edges of your consciousness, muffled as though she’s standing outside the chamber door instead of seated right beside you. You ignore it and push another loop through the fabric.

“Not a cloud in the sky,” she persists, gentle. “Perfect conditions for a walk, if you feel up to it. I could even accompany you, if you wish?”

There was a time, not long ago, when Hyeri’s prodding would have set your teeth on edge. But you do not have the energy to muster any such emotion. And so you give Hyeri the same answer you’d given her the day before. And the day before that one. The same hushed words, spoken in the same decisive tone.

“I’m content to stay in today, Hyeri. Thank you.”

“Very well, Your Grace.”

She drops the matter with a quiet sigh.

It’s unlike her. The Hyeri you know would fret and fuss for as long as it took for you to relent; until you had no choice but to quit your chamber simply to enjoy a moment’s peace. The Hyeri you know would be shooing you away from the fire, prattling on about how one errant thread could catch and send your entire dress up in flames.

But the Hyeri seated beside you does none of those things.

So you sink deeper into the plush chair perched in front of the hearth and watch the flames dance. The embers at the base of the fire glow deep red, putting off a heat blistering enough to scorch your bare feet.

But you cannot feel it. You cannot feel anything.

You’ve surrendered to the weariness now; let it consume you. Allowed it to fuse itself to the very marrow of your bones. For days you’ve done little beyond sleep and spend your few waking hours seated by the fire, needle in hand.

Twice you’ve left your chamber and neither time by choice, but rather because the King had insisted on your presence at dinner. To what end you still cannot be sure seeing as you’d taken both meals in stilted, awkward silence. Apparently His Grace is far less bold without a bit of ale in him.

“The hunting party leaves in three days' time,” Hyeri says. “There’s been quite a fuss in the kitchens over it. They’re taking enough supplies to travel for months, by the looks of it.”

You make a non-committal sound under your breath. Hyeri forges on, undeterred.

“There will be a send-off in the courtyard, of course. Will you – “ she pauses to choose her words carefully. “ – Well, I assume that you’ll want to see the King off.”

You do not want to see the King off. Were it not for his pigheaded adamance that you keep up appearances for the sake of this sham marriage, you’d be content to never see him again. But you’ll not tell Hyeri that. Not when she’s made it clear where her loyalties lie and not when she still holds on to the delusion that one day you’ll decide to embrace your role as the placeholder by the King’s side.

So you say nothing at all. The fire pops as one of the logs crumbles in the hearth.

Hyeri clears her throat. “Your Grace, I only want what’s best for you. Surely you know that by now? And I don’t want people casting aspersions, which they most certainly will do if you’re not there to see the King off. The staff is already asking questions about why you’ve not been seen in days.”

“Has he asked for me?”

Hyeri blinks. “The King?”

“Yes, Hyeri,” you say slowly. “The King. Has His Grace requested my presence at this send-off ceremony?”

The color seems to drain from her soft face as she admits, “No, Your Grace. He hasn’t.”

“Then I see no point in worrying yourself over the matter.”

You return your attention to your needlework and place another yellow thread in the center of your Mugunghwa flower’s pistil. The flames crackle in perfect, undisturbed silence.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

“It’s cold out there today,” Hyeri says. “But if you bundle up tight, it’s quite pleasant in the sunshine.”

“Thank you, Hyeri,” you reply evenly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

It’s a lie, and you both know it. You have no intention of leaving this chamber today and much to your relief, the King did not require your presence at his evening meal the night prior. Hyeri had ordered your dinner sent up and then proceeded to dine with you herself. An insidious voice inside your mind whispers she’s afraid to leave you alone.

You ignore it.

Instead you try to focus on your Mugunghwa flower. You study it, blinking until the riot of colors before you has clear, defined boundaries – fiery crimson at the center which slowly bleeds into a subdued pink which in turn dissipates into a milky white. You pull fresh white thread through your needle and set to work on the flower’s edges.

“Your needlework is much improved, Your Grace,” Hyeri notes. “You’ll be finished with that pattern by the end of the day, as I see it.”

You thumb over the fabric and consider her assessment. She’s right, you’ll be done with this pattern in a matter of hours. And the only thing that awaits on the other side is another pattern. And another. On and on and on.

“Perhaps when you’re done, you’ll consider mending this for me,” Hyeri says, gesturing towards her lap. “My eyesight is not what it used to be. I’m terrified of ruining the old man’s beautiful design.”

You set your embroidery down and turn to look at Hyeri, gaze falling to the opulent plum fabric in her hands. Slowly, the details sharpen into focus. The rich velvet trim. The gold threads glinting back at you in the firelight. The room begins to tilt.

“A footman found it in the woods last night,” Hyeri explains, her cadence slow and deliberate. “By the stables.”

You are keenly aware of the way she watches you in the weighty seconds that follow, one gray eyebrow lifted as she awaits a response. You do your best to appear calm despite the panic clawing its way up your throat.

You’d lost that shawl in your mad dash back to the castle. You’d been tearing through the dark, paying little heed to the branches that tugged at your dress and occasionally scraped at your hands and face. One of them had caught the shawl, but you’d been so desperate to reach the refuge of your chamber that you’d hardly noticed when it was wrenched away. You’d had, after all, your humiliation to keep you warm.

And you’d earned it, hadn’t you? With your drunkenness. With your recklessness. You’d let every one of your baser emotions take control. You’d risked every advantage of your carefully curated life just to throw yourself like a wanton at the feet of one of your husband’s closest confidantes. Like a fool.

When Lord Jung turned on his heels that night and abandoned you in the woods, he’d done far more than just rebuff your clumsy advances.

He’d finished you.

“Your Grace?” Hyeri’s curiosity is evident. “Are you alright?”

Hardly. Your mouth waters as your stomach threatens to cast up what little you’ve eaten today. One glimpse of that garment had been enough to bring a torrent of memories rushing back; vivid, awful memories that you’ve worked hard to banish to the deepest recesses of your mind. You grip the arm of your chair hard enough to make your knuckles go white.

“Your Grace?”

You don’t answer until you’re sure that you won’t retch the very moment you open your mouth. Hyeri studies you in the interminable silence, lips parted in an expression of concern. Your tongue is thick when you finally collect yourself enough to speak.

“Please do thank the footman for me, Hyeri. And I think it best to leave the more intricate needlework to you.”

Hyeri stares as you reach for your needle and thread with trembling hands, but you don’t dare look her way. You try to place a loop at the edge of your flower but the Mugunghwa’s colors have gone blurry again and you’re forced to back the needle out and start over.

Perhaps there was a time when the Mugunghwa was as vivid as a rose. With petals of rich orange-red, opaque from pistil to tip. But perhaps it was asked to weather too many storms. Too many droughts. Too many winters.

Perhaps the Mugunghwa looks the way it does today not because of how it was made, but rather what it’s had to endure.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

The first snow of the season arrives early.

You stand at your window and watch it fall, noting how quickly the fields turn from green to white. You press your fingertips to the windowpane and the cold seeps through it, chilling you instantly.

In the courtyard below, the horses are draped in heavy blankets. Stablehands scurry around them; dusting snow off their muzzles and checking their shoes. Footmen work in teams, sharing the weight of the heavy trunks they load on to waiting carts.

“I’ll wear the blue walking dress today, Hyeri. The one with the white flowers on the bodice.”

“Your Grace?” Hyeri is on her feet at once to join you at the window. “You’ll see the king off, then?”

“I’ll need the matching cape too,” you direct, brushing her question aside as you watch the newly-packed trunks take on a layer of white snow. “If the conditions are as awful as they look.”

“Yes of course,” Hyeri breathes, hurriedly whirling about the chamber behind you as she gathers your things. In a matter of minutes she has you dressed and seated, fingers twisting your hair into a plait at the base of your neck. She loops the plait and pins it into an elegant bun, fingers smoothing the hairs into place before her hands come to rest on your shoulders. She squeezes them gently.

“I’ll not ask you why you’ve changed your mind, Your Grace,” she says softly. “But I’m so glad for it. It’s important that people see you. For them, of course, but for you most of all. And besides, you look so lovely.”

You don’t feel lovely. In fact, you don’t feel anything at all. And if Hyeri had pressed you as to why you’ve changed your mind, she’d not be satisfied with your answer. You’ve changed your mind because you cannot bear to cause more conflict with the King. Because you have no desire to create a scandal that you’ll somehow have to fix. You’ve changed your mind because you have no fight in you left. This is the path of least resistance.

You rise from your seat and Hyeri’s hands fall away. She clutches them to her chest, rheumy eyes soft with sadness as she watches you take your place at the window once again. Outside the snow falls harder, and you watch the footmen leave deep divots in it with their boots.

“Tell me when it’s time,” you say quietly.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

You can scarcely recognize anyone in the throng of well-wishers gathered outside the castle.

They’re all bundled tight in winter coats and pelts; some wear hats and scarves. The snow doesn’t help either, and from the moment you enter the courtyard you’re grateful for your cape. Not only for the warmth of its thick lining, but for its hood, too. It affords you a bit of privacy in this otherwise very public affair.

You weave your way through the crowd and do your best not to make eye contact with anyone. Surely Boram is among those gathered with sweet Yeona in tow, here to see Lord Min off on his adventure. But you cannot bring yourself to seek her out – not when she’s already called on you twice without so much as an explanation for your disappearance. At any rate, you don’t think you could bear to look at her right now. To see the worry and concern you know you’ll find written all over her face.

So you keep your hood pulled tight and your eyes down as you set off in search of the King. And you have no trouble finding him despite your reticence to make your presence known. It’s not just that he stands a head taller than most. It’s in his stature, in his stance – in that self-assured air that seems to come naturally to those born with power. He catches sight of you as he’s speaking to a footman and pauses, gaze locking on yours.

Your legs feel heavy. Your boots sink into the snow as you approach, each step more tiring than the last. When you are finally standing before the King you bow, dipping your head as you peer at him from beneath your hood.

“Your Grace,” he murmurs, lips twitching into a cautious half-smile. “I wasn’t sure you’d come down to say goodbye.”

“And yet I have,” you respond evenly. A snowflake lands on one of his long eyelashes and you resist the urge to reach out and sweep it away. “So I do very much hope that you are pleased.”

“I am pleased.”

The King reaches for your gloved hand. He waits a heartbeat before bringing it to his mouth and pressing a kiss to your leather-clad fingers. Beneath your hood, your cheeks burn. You withdraw your hand quickly and let it fall to your side.

“Well. Then. I wish you a comfortable journey,” you say. “As well as a safe return.”

The two of you stand there for an awkward moment, the King’s expression expectant as though he’s waiting for you to say more. But you have no more to say. The words you’ve already offered him will do. They’re as empty as the vows you’d exchanged little more than a year ago.

“We ought to head out, Your Grace. We’re losing precious daylight and this weather will slow us as it is.”

The voice comes from somewhere in your periphery, but you need not see the man to know exactly who it is. Suddenly each breath you draw is painful, the frigid air pricking your lungs like a thousand tiny needles. You will yourself not to turn towards it, not to react in any way.

“You’re right.” The King acknowledges Lord Jung with a brusque nod. “Have the stablehands check over the horses one more time.”

You won’t look at him. You can’t look at him. Not when the sound of his voice reverberates through every wounded place inside of you. Not when you can close your eyes and still feel the hot trickle of embarrassment that slid down your spine that night in the woods. But then he leaves you with no other choice.

“Your Grace.”

The low timbre of Lord Jung’s greeting makes the fine hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end. You turn to him, slowly, and his dark eyes briefly connect with yours before he bends into a shallow bow. Your knees nearly give way when you return the gesture, along with a subdued, “My Lord.”

What must this man think of you now? What has he told the King? The nausea you’ve managed to stave off for days returns at once.

You startle when a gloved hand wraps around your forearm and the King beckons you to face him. You flick your eyes up to meet his and find that they – along with his countenance – have darkened. By now Lord Jung is yards away, tending to his horse as the hunting party readies to embark. Your lungs ache with each deep pull of cold air.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, no. Not at all,” you insist, contriving a weak laugh. “I’m not accustomed to this kind of cold, is all. I’ll need to go back inside to get warm.”

The King’s brows furrow as he studies you. But you maintain your mild expression until his face relaxes and the disquiet subsides. He leans in to place a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Hyeri assures me you’ll be well taken care of in my absence.”

You lift the corners of your mouth in a gesture that you hope will pass for a smile.

“Thank you, Your Grace. Be well.”

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Hyeri does not protest when you ask to undress upon your return to the chamber. Nor does she fuss when you climb into bed with the morning sun still high in the sky. She simply presses a soft kiss to your hair, draws the curtains tight and leaves you with a whispered rest well.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Your chamber is dark when you wake but for the soft glow of a fire.

As you come to, so does an ache in your temples, a quiet thud that pulses in time with your heartbeat. Your muscles protest as you roll onto your side to find Hyeri seated at the hearth.

She’s yet to realize that you’ve roused and so you lie there for a while, studying her. She has a strange, far-away look in her eyes as she stares into the flames, her grip tight on a book in her lap. After a few minutes she opens the book and begins to thumb through it and you watch, curious, as she pulls a worn piece of vellum from between its pages.

She unfolds the missive and reads over it, face crumpling as she fights back a sob.

“Hyeri?”

The older woman nearly jumps out of her skin when you call out to her. She hastily folds the vellum and slips it back into her book, smoothing down her dress as she stands at attention. “Your Grace,” she says, voice huskier than usual, “I hadn’t realized you were awake.”

“It’s alright,” you say absently, voice rough with sleep. You steal a look at the book left lying in Hyeri’s chair as she hurries over to bring you some water. Her countenance is that of someone who’s been caught doing something they shouldn’t have. You stare at the glass she offers you, watching the water slosh back and forth.

Is she trembling?

“You ought to eat something,” she admonishes gently, waving a hand towards the food waiting on the table nearby. “You slept through the evening meal. I had my mind made up to wake you if you’d gone much longer, but thankfully I didn’t have to. So come,” she beckons, “Eat something. It will do you some good.”

Your stomach twinges at the mention of food. It’s been in upheaval for days now, and as such it’s been far too long since you had a proper meal. But whatever awaits in the dishes nearby smells enticing enough, so you allow Hyeri to help you out of bed. Your muscles are stiff with disuse and you grimace as you make your way to the table. Your eagle-eyed handmaid takes note.

“A long, hot bath will do you some good, too,” Hyeri remarks as you spoon lukewarm bulgogi onto your plate. You eat slowly as she busies herself with lighting the torches and stripping the linens from your bed. “I’ll have the maids bring up the water after you’ve had a chance to eat.”

You’ve only managed a few bites of the bulgogi before there’s an army of maids filing into the chamber, flitting about the room like a swarm of bees. You watch the entire affair in a daze as the maids make quick work of the tasks set before them: tidying and sweeping the chamber, draping your bed in fresh linens, filling the tub with steaming hot water. And when all the commotion is finally done, Hyeri dismisses them with strict orders not to return unless they are sent for.

You are grateful at once for the silence that immediately falls over the chamber. Even Hyeri leaves you for a while, disappearing into the antechamber to prepare your toilette. But when you glance over at her chair, Hyeri’s book is gone. Along with whatever was written on the vellum inside.

“Come now, Your Grace,” Hyeri says, at last. “I’m ready for you.”

She leads you into the bathing chamber, where the air is humid and sweet. Then she helps you out of your rumpled nightgown and holds out her hand. You accept it, leaning into her as you step over the tub’s steep rim. Slowly you ease yourself down, sucking in a breath as the heat blazes a path up your feet to your legs and thighs. The water is hot almost to the point of pain but you withstand it, sinking until it laps at your shoulders.

“I used rose oil tonight,” Hyeri says, kneeling behind you and cupping your head in her hands. “I thought you could do with a bit of pampering.”

The delicate fragrance envelopes you, carried on the curls of steam that rise just above the water. You breathe in the soft, floral scent and close your eyes; try to clear your mind. Hyeri presses her thumbs to your temples and starts making firm, soothing circles.

“I remember the very first moment I saw you,” Hyeri muses softly. “I’d been so impressed by your poise.” Her hands move to the column of your neck and she kneads at the tight muscles there, pulling the tension from them with each pass. “You were little more than a girl then, but I could still see that you were lovely, inside and out.”

Were you? You’re not sure that you would even recognize the girl that stepped out of that carriage so long ago. You’d been so idealistic – so certain of the comfortable life that you would find here. Of the affluence and status and yes, perhaps, even love that you’d enjoy once you’d ascended to the throne. But that girl had been a nitwit. The woman you are now will never entertain such foolish notions again.

“I know that so much of this has not been easy for you,” Hyeri continues, setting to work on your shoulders. “I know that there have been days when you’ve struggled to put one foot in front of the other. But you have. And that means something.”

It does mean something. It means that your mother’s great work is finally complete. She’d spent her entire life molding you into the polished, empty creature you are today. If only she could see you now; see how biddable and pathetic you’ve become. It would fill her to overflowing with joy.

“Anyhow, when you’ve lived as long as I have you realize that nothing is forever,” Hyeri says thoughtfully. “Same as what you’re going through right now, Your Grace. It won’t be forever.”

Nonsense. Hyeri cannot change the King’s heart. She cannot save you from a lifetime of awkward exchanges and forced smiles simply because she believes things can change. And she cannot will a child into your womb simply by decreeing that it should be so. The swell of emotion that surges inside you is more powerful than anything you’ve felt in days. And it’s anger.

“Hyeri, stop,” you order tersely. “No more.”

Her face falls at that, features going slack with dismay. But she heeds you, holding back whatever she’d meant to say next. Then she reaches for the soap and begins to wash your hair in silence. You chase the beads of oil that float along the surface of the water with a fingertip, cheeks hot with embarrassment. You hadn’t meant to be ugly to Hyeri.

But then you’ve done many things of late that you hadn’t meant to.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur.

“It’s alright, Your Grace. I know you meant no harm by it.” Hyeri dries her hands off and then rises to her feet, looking down at you with a kindness you do not deserve. “I’ll leave you to soak for a bit. You can have a few minutes of peace before I return.”

You’ve been unfair to her, haven’t you? The realization cuts you deep as you watch her retreat from the antechamber. She’s served you in so many ways since your arrival here: as caretaker and as advisor and as confidante. And how have you thanked her? By being cold and distant. By unleashing all the frustration and resentment you feel towards the King on her. And what of the tears you’d seen her hold back while she’d been sitting by the fire? Have you been so mired in your own anguish that you’ve neglected to see hers?

The water has begun to cool and your skin has begun to pebble by the time Hyeri returns.

“Forgive me, Your Grace,” she says upon her return, helping you out of the water. “The time got away from me. You must be freezing.”

“Only a little,” you lie, teeth chattering. Hyeri sets to drying you, throwing the damp linens on the floor to catch the rivulets of water that fall from your hair. Her dark eyes dart from your shoulders to your neck to your ears, but they do not meet yours.

“Is something wrong, Hyeri?”

“No, no. Not at all,” she answers quickly, “Just a bit tired.” Her reassurance rings hollow because she keeps her eyes trained on the floor as she bends to reach for the rose oil. When she straightens, you catch her hand with yours, stilling her.

“What were you reading tonight?”

Hyeri’s mouth opens in surprise and then quickly closes.

“I saw you sitting by the fire,” you admit. “You were reading something that looked to upset you.”

“And here I thought you were sleeping,” Hyeri grumbles, taking her hand back. She pours the oil into one palm and then warms it before pressing it to your neck, letting a long moment pass before she speaks.

“It didn’t upset me,” she explains. “Not in a sad way. Those were happy tears, I suppose.” She pours oil into your hands and begins to gently massage it into your fingers. “It was a letter from my Sanghun, back when he’d been courting me so many years ago. You might find this hard to believe, but I wasn’t always the old woman you see now. I had more than my fair share of suitors.”

It’s not hard to believe. Time has been kind to Hyeri. Her features, though soft with age, are still striking. She must have been quite fetching as a young woman.

“What made you choose Sanghun?” you ask.

“I don’t know that I had a choice in the matter at all,” she laughs as she helps you slip into a nightgown. “The moment I saw Sanghun, no other man existed for me. It was him or no one.” Her eyes go soft with a faraway look as she recounts the memory. “The other girls thought him too practical, too serious. But I saw a side of him that no one else saw. A part of him that was just for me.”

“You must miss him,” you say gently.

“Every day,” Hyeri admits. “Ten years he’s been gone and I think of him every day. Those letters remind me of what it’s like to be young and so in love that you’ll not see rhyme or reason. But –” she trails off and waves a hand as if fending off fresh tears. “Never mind that. Come sit.”

It’s unclear which of you she’s sparing from the memory. But as Hyeri begins working her comb through the lengths of your hair, you’re struck by how shortsighted you’ve been. There is suffering in never having the chance to love and be loved, certainly. But there is a different kind of suffering that comes with having that kind of love and then losing it. The thought humbles you.

Hyeri comes to stand behind you and begins working your wet hair into a loose plait.

“I’m sorry, Hyeri,” you say softly, gaze dropping to your hands. “I’m sorry that I haven’t thought to ask you about Sanghun. I haven’t been myself and I’ve just – “

Hyeri silences you with a soft hush. She secures your braid with a piece of linen and then drops to her knees to look her in the eye. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” she says softly, stroking a hand down the side of your face. “Nor do you owe anyone an explanation for feeling the things you feel.”

Her warmth thaws the frozen places inside you. It causes tears to spring to your eyes. And when she takes your hand in hers, you squeeze it gently — hoping that the gesture can convey the feelings you can’t put into words.

“Now put all of that behind you,” she says, smiling through her own unshed tears. “And come sit with me for a while.”

Hyeri leads the way into the chamber and you follow, only to stop short when the hearth comes into view.

When your gaze falls on the silhouetted figure near the fire, you nearly scream. You try to scream. But fear seizes your body, inch by inch – rooting your feet to the floor and closing around your throat like a shackle. You have no choice but stand there, staring in horrified silence as the figure begins to emerge from the shadows. In the span of one frantic heartbeat, the figure has a shape. In the next, it has a face.

And in the next, it has a name.

“H-Hyeri?” you stammer, swaying on your feet as your legs threaten to give way. Your handmaid doesn’t answer and so you call out again, voice quivering. “Hyeri?”

You cannot take your eyes off the man standing before you. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, and so you stare as the firelight flickers over his stark, beautiful features. Shadows dance across his clenched jaw and knit brow. And his eyes – those dark eyes you know so well are fathomless, inscrutable – smoldering coal set in unblemished, unforgiving stone.

“Hyeri!“ you call out to her again, desperate – reluctantly tearing your gaze from the man to look for her. And when your eyes finally land on Hyeri, you find your handmaid standing near the chamber door, hands clasped together tightly. Streaks of color running up the thin skin of her neck and into her soft cheeks.

But she’s not surprised, is she? Not flummoxed in any way by finding Lord Jung lying in wait inside your private rooms. The realization comes over you slowly, wholly, until a strangle tingle runs from your scalp to the tips of your fingers. She’s arranged this, hasn’t she?

“W-What is this?” The words leave you as more air than sound, but they ring out clear enough in the silence of your chamber. Lord Jung and Hyeri exchange a long look, but neither utters a sound.

“Someone speak!” you cry, wincing at the hysteria in your voice.

Hyeri finally clears her throat, her face now fully aflame. “I believe the two of you – “ she pauses, swallowing hard. “Well, I believe the two of you have some things you need to discuss.”

Discuss? You and Lord Jung? Suddenly the panic you feel metastasizes, growing into something much darker. Has he come to admonish you, then? To punish you for your disloyalty? Has he come to lay bare every humiliating detail of that horrible night at the stables for Hyeri to hear?

“No,” you whisper. You do your best to appear composed, despite the way your knees tremble. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Hyeri. I have nothing to discuss with Lord Jung.”

“Yes, you do.” The man in question speaks for the first time, his voice little more than a low rasp. “And we will.”

“No,” you repeat your refusal, shaking your head as though the movement will help sort your jumbled thoughts. “No. You have no right to turn up here and say what I will and will not do. And where did you come from? I saw you leave. I saw you mount your horse and ride off with – “

You stop yourself before you can finish the thought, flushing fiercely at the unspoken mention of the King. Your tedious, disinterested husband would be anything but if he had any inkling of this clandestine encounter.

“I was called back to the castle,” Lord Jung explains evenly. “A palace rider came bearing a missive bidding that I return at once to address an issue at the stables. I was but an hour’s ride away at the time.” Once again, he looks to Hyeri and they exchange another one of those maddening looks.

“But there was no issue at the stables,” you deduce quietly, the pieces falling into place, one by one. “Was there, Hyeri?” Your handmaid seems to shrink beneath the weight of the accusation in your eyes.

“No, Your Grace,” she confesses weakly, “There was not.”

Oh, but your head is truly spinning now – each new revelation more disorienting than the last. How long have these two been conspiring together? What does Hyeri know about what’s transpired between you and Lord Jung? What does he know about the many private things you’ve shared with Hyeri? Both thoughts cause the bile in your stomach to rise.

“You can leave us now, Hyeri,” Lord Jung says. “Thank you.”

Leave you? Has the man lost all good sense? You open your mouth to protest, but when met with the intensity in his glittering dark eyes, words fail you. You just stand there, mouth agape, rendered mute and immobile with shock. You look over at Hyeri, who has fixed her pleading eyes to your wide ones, her expression urging you to comply. And though you cannot make sense of a single thing that you’ve witnessed tonight, you do.

“Very well, My Lord,” she says quietly. “Rest well, Your Grace. The staff rouses at dawn.”

And with that Hyeri takes her leave, the chamber door closing behind her with a heavy thud that echoes the one in your chest.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Once you are alone with Lord Jung, you realize how truly vulnerable you are.

With little more than a thin nightgown to cover you, he can see far more of you than would ever be considered proper. All it would take was one shout from the man to bring the guards running, to compromise you both to the point of expulsion. Perhaps worse.

But the situation is far weightier than that.

You’ve been vulnerable to this man from nearly the first moment you saw him. You’d been weak to his attention and charms. You’d allowed him to see you in ways that no one else has: not Chaehee, not Hyeri and certainly not the King. And the only time in your life that you’d thrown caution to the wind – and acted with abandon, not restraint – he’d mortified you. The memory of that night is a wound that’s just barely begun to heal, and now here Lord Jung stands, poised to pour salt on it.

You’ll not allow him to devastate you again.

“Go on then,” you say, lifting your chin and speaking with feigned bravado. “You’ve gone to great lengths to speak to me, so speak. I assume you’ll enlighten me as to which matter is so pressing that you felt the need to steal into my chamber and risk ruin for us both.”

“I know what I’m risking,” he growls. Then he stops to collect himself, exhaling deeply as he shoves a hand through his hair. “I know what we both stand to lose. But I could not come to you any other way.”

“Why have you come to me at all?” you demand. “You made your feelings quite clear the night of the festival, did you not?” You can no longer contain your bitterness and it drips from your every word. “You should go back to your sovereign, My Lord. Back to your King.”

Lord Jung looks stricken when you use his own words against him. There is a despair in his dark eyes that might have pained you once, but not now. Not anymore.

“You have every right to be angry with me, Your Grace,” he acknowledges. “And if you bid me to leave, then I will do so. But not without telling you the truth. You deserve to hear the truth.”

“Everything here is a lie. Perhaps you, most of all.”

He looks at you for a long moment before turning towards the hearth to gaze into the fire. Orange-red light illuminates his profile, sweeping across his smooth brow, over the elegant slope of his nose and down to his strong jaw. He is still the most beautiful – and most terrible man you’ve ever known.

“The King said he would give her up,” he says woodenly, staring into the flames. “When your marriage was announced, he swore it. And I believed him.”

Every muscle in your body pulls tight.

“I knew that he loved her. We all did. But he vowed that he would respect his father’s wishes and I’ve never known him to be a duplicitous man. I’ve never known him to say one thing and do another. And when I realized that he’d been deceiving you, deceiving us all, I – “ he stops and shakes his head at the memory. “ – I wasn’t thinking clearly. I confronted him at once and demanded that he explain himself.”

The argument in the courtyard. The memories come back to you in an instant. The way they’d both looked so irate, the way their voices would rise and then fall. Lord Jung turning his back on the King and stalking away into the dark.

The tightness in your chest is unbearable now, viselike.

“I was so damned angry,” he whispers, more to himself than to you. “Never once in my life have I imagined putting my hands on the King, but in that moment – I don’t know. I don’t know what I might have done had I not walked away. But I confronted him because I had to know why.”

He rips his gaze from the fire and turns to you, eyes flashing.

“And do you know what he told me? Do you know what he said when I asked him why he would insult you by keeping a lover? He told me that he couldn’t stay away. That he’d tried to do the honorable thing but he couldn’t stay away.”

“Why are you telling me this?” The tremor in your voice belies your pathetic attempt at composure. “If you mean to cause me pain, it’s too late. I’ve known about the King’s lover since the early days of this marriage, and I’ve accepted it. Just as I’ve accepted that I’ll never amount to more than a trinket he dusts off to show to his people.”

Lord Jung takes a step towards you, his beautiful face hard in the firelight. There’s a maelstrom behind his eyes, a polite violence that sets you to shiver.

“I’m telling you this because I need you to understand,” he says. “I want to hate him. I have tried to hate him. But I cannot. I have no position of honor to stand on. No rightful claim to virtue. I have no right to condemn the King for his sins when I have so many of my own to account for.”

“I – I don’t understand,” you say weakly.

“I have no right – “ his voice breaks, thick with emotion, “-- I have no right to denounce the King for coveting another woman.” He drags a hand down his face, distraught. “Not when I have spent every single day since you stepped out of that carriage coveting you.”

You stop breathing entirely.

“So no,” he continues, voice graveled. “I cannot bring myself to hate the King. And you were right to think me a liar. I’ve pretended that my nearness to you was benign, nothing more than an act of service. I’ve tried to make myself look honorable to you, when I have been anything but. I’ve been a liar since the moment I met you.”

You are trembling now, head to toe. Rendered speechless by Lord Jung’s confession. Slowly, the maelstrom in his eyes starts to recede. He looks as vulnerable now as you feel.

“You deserved to know the truth,” he says quietly. “If from no one else, than from me.”

There is a heavy silence in the seconds it takes you to find your voice.

“My Lord, I – “

“Don’t call me that,” he pleads. “Please. Not now. Not when I’ve come to you like this.”

“Very well, Hoseok. But you sent me away. In the woods that night, I’d asked you to – “ you stop, not wanting to say the words aloud. “What’s changed? Why are you telling me this now?”

“I have tried to leave you alone.” His voice is ragged now, anguished. “I thought if I could just put some distance between us – if I rose earlier and worked harder and retired later – that I could exhaust this need out of me. But I can’t.” Torment is etched into every line of his beautiful face. It makes you want to reach out and touch him but you resist, uncertainty keeping your hands pinned to your sides.

“I cannot war with myself any longer,” he says hoarsely. “I cannot continue to lie to you or myself. And if he is not willing to give you the things you desire, then I will.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, your neck. It gathers in your belly, too.

“So if you’re asking me why now?” he says, taking another step towards you, closing what little distance remains. “It’s because I couldn’t stay away.”

He touches you then, takes your face into one warm hand and strokes his fingers down your temple, smooths the pad of his thumb over your lips. The featherlight touch raises goosebumps all over your skin. It’s more intimate than anything you’ve ever experienced with the King.

“Do you still want me to kiss you?” he murmurs.

“No,” you breathe. “I want so much more than that.”

He looks at you with such heat that the warmth in your belly goes molten. Then he presses his mouth to yours and slowly coaxes it open with gentle strokes of his tongue. He tastes of whiskey and smells of fine, heady soap and he does not relent until you are panting. Moisture gathers at the juncture of your thighs, beneath your thin nightgown.

But suddenly you are apprehensive. You’ve no idea how to kiss a man properly, much less satisfy him as a lover. And you’re not sure that you could ever live down the shame of disappointing him. When he finally pulls away to look down at you with heavy-lidded eyes, you have no choice but to confess.

“There’s something you should know, Hoseok,” you say, the sound of his given name still foreign in your mouth. “It’s just that – well, I am by no means a maiden but in some respects, I might as well be. I know almost nothing about how to please you.”

Anger flashes in his eyes, and for one terrifying moment you fear it’s for you.

“That is through no fault of your own,” he says darkly. “And if he’s been too much of a fool to see to your needs, then so be it.” He dips his head to press a kiss to your ear, then whispers, “Your pleasure will be mine and mine alone.”

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Hoseok spends an inordinate amount of time tending to the fire.

You sit on the edge of your bed and watch him, feverish with anticipation as he moves the weakest logs and adds fresh ones. Once he’s satisfied, once the chamber is glowing with fresh flames and warmth, he cleans his hands and comes to you.

Your heart rattles harder with each step he takes towards your bed.

When he’s finally standing at the foot of your bed, he takes off his belt. And then reaches behind his head to pull his tunic away. The sight of his bare chest is enough to make your mouth go dry. His body is lithe and sleek and strong, his muscles rippling as he puts his hands down on either side of you and lowers his mouth to yours for a kiss.

“Tonight is about you, pretty bird,” he murmurs, trailing more kisses across your cheek, down your neck. “So I want you to tell me everything you want.”

“I want to see you.” The words leave you in a rush an account of the way his mouth moves from the juncture of your neck and to the hollow of your collarbone. “All of you.”

Hoseok wastes no time in straightening to his full height to remove his breeches, and then his smallclothes. And try as you might not to stare, it cannot be helped. You’ve never been able to study a man like this. Not even the King.

“Can I touch you?”

“Please,” he groans.

And then you are cautiously reaching for him, wrapping a hand around the length of him, marveling at the way he pulses in your palm. You run your fingertips down the skin of his shaft, awestruck by how silky and warm he is. But when your fingers reach the blunt head of him, he flinches.

“I don’t – I’m sorry,” you say quickly. “Did I hurt you?

“No, no. You didn’t hurt me,” he assures you, his voice sounding a bit strangled. “I’m just sensitive there, is all.”

“Will you show me, then?” you ask, curiosity far stronger than any self-consciousness you might feel. “Show me how to touch you.”

“Of course.”

He sits down on the bed beside you, taking hold of your hand. And then you watch with a heady mix of confusion and excitement as he takes your fingers into his mouth one, by one. He finishes the unfamiliar preparation by licking a long stripe up the palm of your hand. The stroke of his tongue sends a bolt of desire racing through you.

“It’s easier like this,” he explains, guiding your hand back to his length. You take hold of him again and this time he wraps his hand around yours. He moves your hand for you, up and down the length of him, until you can feel him growing hotter and harder in your hand. You’re fascinated by it all – by how firmly he wants to be touched, by how labored his breathing becomes, by the way the muscle and sinew in his legs seem to twitch at your command.

He leans over to capture your mouth as he begins to buck into your hand in earnest. And after a while his own hand falls away, leaving you to take control of his pleasure. And what an intoxicating power he’s given you – taut muscles in his abdomen flexing with each of his strained breaths.

“That feels so good, pretty bird,” he groans, taking your bottom lip between his teeth. “Just right. Your hand feels so good around me like this.”

The wetness you’d felt between your thighs when he’d kissed you the first time returns, and each sound of pleasure he rewards you with makes you wetter and warmer. He is rock hard in your hand now, the dusky head of his manhood shiny with moisture. You watch a bead of it appear at the tip and you slide your fingertips over it, transfixed by how smooth it feels. Beside you, Hoseok shudders.

“I think that’s enough for now,” he says, breathless. “I’ll be of no use to you if you keep that up for much longer.”

You have half a mind to protest, but then his hands are sliding over the thin material of your nightgown, cupping your breasts through the gauzy fabric. He takes one of your nipples between his fingers and teases it until it’s standing at attention. You sigh.

“Can I take this off?” he whispers, pulling at the nightgown.

You hesitate. Not even the King has seen you nude. Not once has he ever asked you to remove your nightgown and so for a long time, that is what you’d assumed he preferred. That is, until you’d caught him in bed with his lover.

“Look at me,” Hoseok says, sensing your anxiety. He tips your chin up until your gaze meets his own. “I’ll not ask you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. But I would be lying if I said that I didn’t want to use my mouth and hands on you. On all of you.”

You inhale deeply, flustered by the way he speaks so plainly about his desires. But that’s what you want, isn’t it? What you’ve longed for all this time. And that’s what he’s promised you, isn’t it? Pleasure. Pleasure that will be his and his alone.

You draw your nightgown up to your thighs and then raise up to pull it even higher. When you’ve finally discarded it, when there is nothing left between you and Hoseok you flush, looking away.

“You have nothing to hide,” he rasps. “You’re beautiful. Believe me, pretty bird – you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

Emboldened by the praise, you draw nearer to him and trace the outline of his heart-shaped mouth with one finger. And then it is your lips that find his; your tongue that moves past the seam of his lips and your teeth that find the shell of his ear. You thread your fingers in his hair, and he groans, gathering you close.

“You can’t imagine how many nights I’ve dreamed of you like this,” he says, gently laying you back on the bed. “You can’t imagine how many nights I’ve taken myself in hand to these fantasies.”

Oh, but you can imagine, can’t you? The few times you’d dared to try and seek your own pleasure, it had been him in your mind’s eye as your hand was between your legs. It had always been him.

Hoseok’s mouth leaves yours and when it finds the tip of one aching breast, you gasp.

“Do you like that?” he goads, laving your nipple with his tongue, taking it between his teeth. The pang of pleasure he incites in you is so sharp, you cry out. “Your body is so responsive,” he murmurs. “So damned responsive.”

There is only so much of that particular torture you can take, and so when his mouth finally leaves your breasts you exhale a sigh of relief. But then his mouth is on your sternum, and then your stomach, and then –

You freeze.

“I want to kiss you here,” Hoseok explains, cupping your mound with one large hand. “I promised you pleasure and this is the surest way to it. Will you let me?”

He looks up at you from the edge of the bed, his dark hair wild and his dark eyes glossy with desire, his mouth hovering over your most secret place. Your pulse skitters, heart pounding erratically at the thought of him kissing you there.

“Is it – is it proper?” you ask, chiding yourself at once for asking such a stupid question. Your face flames when Hoseok raises a brow. “I don’t know that I’ve ever thought to consider the … propriety of such an act,” he says slowly. “But I know that you’ll enjoy it if you allow me to show you. And if you don’t enjoy it, I’ll stop.”

In the seconds that follow, you think about the way he’d let you take him in hand. How he’d showed you how to bring him pleasure, without reserve. How powerful you’d felt when he’d been shuddering under your touch. He’d trusted you, hadn’t he? Just as you now must trust him.

“Alright,” you whisper, nodding your assent. “I trust you.”

He grins at you then, wickedly, before lowering his mouth to your mons. And then he is kissing you there, softly, each brush of his lips moving lower and lower still. Until you feel the heat of his breath at your entrance. You tense.

“Relax for me,” he instructs, licking a long, wet stripe up the length of you. The touch sends a frisson of sensation shooting through your limbs. “Close your eyes and try to think of nothing but this.”

And then he sets his tongue to the tiny pearl at your entrance.

And at once, you see stars.

“H-Hoseok!” you gasp, your hips flying off the bed at the contact. The urge to snap your legs shut is almost as strong as the urge to push deeper into the pleasing press of his tongue. Almost.

But he pins your legs down with his arms and continues the onslaught, stroking and licking at you with his tongue, nipping at you with his teeth. You grab fistfulls of the duvet as though it might ground you somehow, keep you from bursting into flame.

And then he slides one long finger into you.

You are incoherent now, moaning and begging in broken sentences that do not make sense. But your body is responding in ways that your words cannot, hips moving in time with his mouth. Each pass of his tongue sends sharp spikes of pleasure to your core. You’d thought you’d known what this pleasure felt like, that perhaps you’d be able to reach it on your own someday, but never once had it been like this.

And then you can feel it – the coil turning inside you, the desperate ascent to the one place you’ve never been able to reach. And it’s so close, so so close – the promise of whatever awaits on the other side strong enough to sate this nameless craving that you’ve felt for so long. It’s within your reach now, if only you can just hold on.

And then it stops.

He takes his mouth and tongue away and the pleasure vanishes. “Hoseok, no,” you cry, sapped of all energy, robbed once again of the relief you so desperately seek. “Please,” you beg weakly, “please.”

But he’s at your side now, the length of his body resting against yours, his manhood hard and hot against your leg. “Come now, pretty bird,” he soothes, “I didn’t bring you this high just to let you fall.”

He presses his lips to your ear at the same time he presses his fingers back to the aching bud between your thighs. “Go on then,” he whispers. “Fly.”

He brings every sensation he’d wrought from you rushing back with his fingers. His mouth hovers at your ear, whispering his encouragement until the coil inside you snaps. He must have known that you’d not be able to contain yourself when you came apart because he covers your mouth with his own, swallowing the sobs he wrenches from you, bringing you down slowly as you come apart.

And when you finally come to your senses again, when your breathing has evened and your heart has slowed and every part of you feels liquid and languid, he smiles.

“I couldn’t risk you waking the entire castle,” he explains apologetically, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” you shudder through your quiet laughter, aftershocks of sensation rippling through you. “Quite the opposite, in fact. I’ve never – never experienced anything like that.”

“That’s mine,” he murmurs, going up on one elbow. “Just as I told you it would be.”

Indeed. But what about his pleasure? The firm reminder of it remains pressed against you, the rigid length of it leaking onto your duvet. You reach for it and he draws a sharp breath through his clenched teeth.

“I want to feel you inside me,” you say softly, noting the way a muscle tics in his jaw. You wrap your hand around him and squeeze, astounded by how feverishly hot he feels. “Please.”

Hoseok nods, climbing over you and settling his hips between your thighs. He takes himself in hand and when you feel the blunt head of him at your entrance, you tense again. But he doesn’t enter you right away. Instead he looks down at you, his dark eyes brimming with emotion.

“Are you certain,” he breathes, his brow dotted with a fine sheen of sweat. “I need to hear you say it.”

You lift up to kiss him, pressing your lips to his. “Take me, Hoseok,” you whisper. “Now.”

And in one sure stroke, he’s buried to the hilt inside you.

Bodies sealed, fates sealed.

The force of his entry steals the breath from your lungs. And though you’ve been breached before, it’s never felt like this. You’re still sensitive from the pleasure he’d given you only moments before and each of his thrusts only heightens the sensation.

You cling to him as he rocks against you, closing your eyes to revel in the fullness. He buries his head in your neck and thrusts harder, the sound of his skin meeting yours just as gratifying as it is lurid. And when he reaches between you to press his fingers to your pearl once again, impossibly you feel fresh pleasure begin to bloom.

Broken phrases fall from his lips, a string of curses and blessings and everything in between. And his coarse language doesn’t scandalize you; in fact it only causes you to hurtle towards the peak faster. And then you’re flying again – flying apart, scattering into a million pieces. Crying into his mouth as your release explodes into color and tiny wisps of fire slowly drift back to the earth.

But you come back to yourself just as his rhythm has started to falter, just as the steady cant of his hips becomes so frenetic that you know his own release is near. You have only a moment to mourn the loss of his weight and his warmth before he’s on his knees before you.

You’ve never seen anything more erotic. Firelight flickers over him as he throws his head back, the cords in his neck clenching as he takes himself in hand. And then he is groaning, long and low, as his release spills on to the duvet.

Then he collapses onto you, wrapping you up in his arms, turning you both until he’s on his back and your head rests upon his chest. And then you both lie there for a while, skin to skin, watching the flames cast shadows on the stone.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Neither one of you sleep, the threat of dawn too near to indulge in any such luxury.

“What happens now, Hoseok?”

You ask the question after he’s made love to you a second time, both of you too exhausted to move. Hoseok inhales and exhales deeply. “I don’t know. I have no control over the world outside of that chamber door, pretty bird.”

You map the lines of his chest with one finger, thoughtful.

“You told me earlier that if the King would not give me the things I desire, you would. Did you mean that?”

“I did,” Hoseok says, pressing a kiss to your hair. “If it’s within my power, then I will. I will give you anything I can.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, closing your eyes and breathing deeply. “Thank you.”

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

You sit by the window and take in the afternoon sunlight, eyes drooping as you fight to stay awake.

You cannot ever remember being so tired. You sleep in fits and starts now, two or three hours at a time. And your body is too fatigued to talk up walking again, though the fresh air and exercise would do you some good. But you will walk again, soon. It won’t be long before you’re sitting with your birds and reading in the gentle Spring breeze.

Hyeri charges into the room like a bull, the tea tray in her hand clattering loudly. You narrow her eyes at her as she approaches and she fixes you with a sardonic look.“Oh, hush you,” she grumbles, setting the tray down on the table and walking over to you. “I wasn’t that loud.”

But her scowl falls away as her gaze locks on the baby at your breast, her muted eyes glowing with admiration.

“That’s a fine Prince you have there, Your Grace,” she says softly. Then she looks up at you and her scowl returns. “Though at the rate you’re going, I’ll never get to hold him, will I? You’ve an entire staff to help you with him, and still you refuse. You’re going to make that boy rotten.”

You chuckle under your breath as you stroke your hand over the tuft of downy hair at your son’s crown. He blinks up at you with his huge dark eyes, and your heart is filled to overflowing with a love that you once you thought you’d never know.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

y,all i finished it! hahah okay so listen. if you'd like to talk to me, i'd love to hear from you. please consider reblogging and dropping me an ask 💕

#hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #j-hope smut #j-hope x reader #bts smut #bts fic #bts x reader

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strang3lov3 · 2 years ago

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Welcome, perverts 🥰

General trigger warnings for my blog/writing - proship, noncon/dubcon, incest/fauxcest, old man fucking, culkin/pascal/dastmalchian/gallner/howerton thirsting, shitposting. Minors and those that can’t hang, fuck off.

On my dark/taboo fic - for those who don’t understand why I write what some of the things I write.

Recent works!

🆕✨ Big - Carmy Berzatto x Reader (7/1/25)

Apartment - cousin!Benji Kaplan x Reader (6/23/25)

Quiet Time - dad!Tom Wambsgans x Reader (6/18/25)

Relax - Jack Delroy x Reader (6/12/25)

Rock You - dad!Joel x Reader (6/2/25)

Have an ask?

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I am in the process of cleaning up my emoji list. <- this link has a sc of all my old emoji anons. If yours is gone and you want it back up/you want to keep yours up, send an ask. Its nothing personal, just tidying 🩷

Unavailable emojis: 🐤🪽🎀🪼🦨🦋🍓💋🍒🧛🏻‍♀️💫🦭(🦶🏽🍑) 🇵🇷🧊🤡 🐣🐕🌿 (🍓💌) 🍄⚜️ (🍒💋) (💤💋)(🍆🧙‍♂️)🧃🌷🥐 💐🍃 🤍 🪨 🎃🫃 (📜⚔️) 🏹 (🦝🍋) 😵‍💫 🎠 ☕️ 📟🧴🦤🐻🦝 (⌨️🐇) ♋️ 🩷🐞💭(💔🫁) 🐶🦜(🙂‍↕️💤) 🐜 🙂‍↕️🔔🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 🏵 (🪨🦞) 🐨 🕯️🌊 🍟🫀🪷 ♋️ 🐜 🪥 😇 🧞‍♀️ 🛸 💵💕(🥥 🌺)🕷️ (🦭🍊)

Updated 7/2/25

#housekeeping #pinned post

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bloodfiendarling · 6 months ago

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⚜️ anon , youre gonna be the death of me .. merry late christmas to u , too !! <3

this man is such a TEASE it pisses me off (positive)

pairing — reader x aventurine

contains — dom reader, sub aventurine, crossdressing

rambling on and on ..

can’t help but think of him sending pics of himself while you’re at work — those skimpy girly clothes with pretty red lingerine underneath as he covered his face. he’s pretty much spamming you with closeups and pretty mirror selfies. you could sense the neediness through the damn screen !!

did it work? of course it did.

the second you came back — you practically rushed to your room to see the pretty boy that is your lover. seeing aventurine already so eagerly presenting himself on your shared bed <3<3

make him more needy .. be mean to him ... slow, soft touches to tease him. slide your hand under his shirt, the other going down the short, cute little skirt he put on just for you. make sure you make him more and more impatient — it’s only natural you’d be mean to him .. he’s bothering you at work ..

“mnnh.. taking time unwrapping your gift, are you..?”

hsr masterlist ♥︎

#♱ backstreets .#♱ rabbit hole .#୨୧ passenger :: ⚜️ .#✸ astral express .#✸ ten stonehearts .#✦ aventurine .#aventurine #sub aventurine #sub aventurine x reader #aventurine x reader #x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #hsr smut #sub hsr

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inkedinfusions · 5 months ago

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𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝 | geto suguru chapter 1

⊱𖤓⊰ | In which you, a thief, meet the lost prince of the kingdom.

── ★ ˙ ̟ . ⚜️ .ᐟ.ᐟ masterlist

next–⊱

𝟎𝟏 | 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐟𝐭

chapter word count: 4.1k

content warnings: normal warnings for the tangled movie lol

a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TWIN!!!!! He is ooc in this because he isn't racist ☺️ Anyway, I'm going to take this opportunity to thank P for not complaining when I send them Geto edits and when I rant about jjk. New chapter comes out tomorrow!

Thanks for reading!

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 your hair as you gaze upon the kingdom below you, the morning sun bathing the colorful houses all around. It is by all means a perfect day; the sky is clear, the air is warm, and you are about to be one of the richest people in the land.

“Hey!” exclaims the voice of your partner, snapping you out of your daydreams. “The view is nice and all, but the longer we stay here, the higher the odds we get caught.”

“Since when have you ever cared about getting caught?” you ask, walking towards where Satoru stands. “I can recall at least five times where we almost got busted because of your idiotic tendencies.”

“But my dear Y/n, what you don't understand is that I have transformed into a new person,” he says. “My recent sabbatical really helped me ground myself in this–”

“You mean when you got caught and had to serve time until I helped you escape?”

“As I was saying! I am nothing but a law-abiding citizen, bound by the values of this kingdom.”

“That is the biggest load of bullshit I have ever heard,” you say, tying the rope around your torso. “And I deal with you daily.”

You open the panel that sits directly on top of the stand that contains your objective. You scoff at the placement, wondering what dumb soul decided to compromise the circlet’s security with multiple removable panels. Still, if this piece of wood hadn’t been here, your job would be all the more difficult. And most normal people do not account for thieves on the roof.

“Yeah, keep talking and I’ll drop you,” Satoru says, gripping the rope to which you are attached.

You choose to simply stick out your tongue rather than retort, for you are already being lowered into the hall and you’d rather not alert the guards prematurely. After you had the circlet, all was fair game.

You would never say this out loud, but you are very thankful it was Satoru who botched one of your firsts jobs when you were teenagers. You were nimble, too gangly to steal anything big, but smart enough to manage on your own. Then Satoru entered the picture and something clicked.

The boy could have chosen to leave you behind and escape himself, but instead he chose to create a distraction so you could escape too. You had left that job with no valuables except for a new partner in crime and a change in name, courtesy of Satoru.

The story went like this. In the middle of the job you both had bickered over who takes what, him calling you Starlight when you refused to give out your name, you calling him Six Eyes when he tripped over a bump in the carpet in the middle of the hall. This had continued until guards started to pursue you, and in the confusion, had christened you with those names on your new and shiny wanted posters.

Those didn’t come until much later, when both you and Satoru were rising fast through local murmurs, and he threw a fit when your insult for him had taken the form of his identity. You didn’t mind, as you were completely comfortable with leaving Y/n behind, with only Satoru calling you that as a result of exchanging names in a show of trust. Which takes you to the situation at hand.

The throne room you are being dropped into is lavishly decorated, full of banners with the royal crest, a circle that contains four swirling lines that converge into the small circle in the middle, symbolizing the sun. They are painted gold and a dark purple, almost blue, which combines with the stained glass windows that line the walls.

You are carefully lowered by Satoru until you reach the stand placed in front of the thrones, where a royal circlet stands, the key to your newfound lifestyle. It is gold, lathered in jewels that range from dark amethysts to indigo sapphires, but it is surprisingly light when you pick it up.

A guard sneezes and you get the wonderful idea to mess with them a little bit. Satoru couldn’t fault you; you were only following his example.

“Bless you,” you say politely as you tug on the rope to signal Satoru to lift you, circlet already in your satchel.

“Thanks,” the guard says, unbothered. You snort when he whirls around moments later, managing to catch only the soles of your boots as you make your escape on the roof.

You laugh as the guard shouts at you to wait, but you’re already sliding down the walls of the castle, making a quick getaway through alleyways and unused roads. You pivot on a corner, grabbing Satoru by the arm so he isn’t caught unprepared for the sharp turn, and he hoists you up to a roof when all the roads are blocked by guards.

“So much for not getting caught, huh?” Satoru shouts at you while you make your escape to the nearby forest.

“That’s my bad,” you respond, a grin betraying your lack of guilt. “Besides, look how productive we’ve been! It's what, eight? And we are already set for life!”

Satoru rolls his eyes as you dart through the foliage, amusement evident in the creases of his face. “I never want to hear you complain about my recklessness again.”

You shove him with a smile, when two posters nailed to a tree catch your eye. If the faces didn't spoil it, the names sure do; Starlight and Six Eyes, wanted dead or alive. Now, personally, you would prefer to not be caught at all, but it was nice that alive was still an option. You just have one grievance.

“Geez. Does my hair look that frizzy to you?” you ask Satoru, ripping the poster of the tree and holding it next to your face for comparison. He shrugs, to which you call out his name with force.

“What? I didn’t draw that,” he says. “Why are you mad at me?”

“Oh, it's easy for you to say,” you answer, ripping up his poster and waving it around. “I guess the illustrators must have a crush on you or something, because this looks like–”

“Like the real me? Thank you very much, it's genetics.”

“No dumbass, like a weird, exaggerated fantasy of a fairy tale prince,” you say.

Satoru snorts. “Please, as if a prince would ever affiliate himself with us.”

“True. Hey, aren’t those the Curses?” you ask, pointing to another poster depicting two guys, one with an eyepatch and another covered in stitches. “I didn’t know they escaped.”

“Oh shit, really?” Satoru grimaces. “All the more reason we need to lay low. I doubt they’ve forgiven us for that little stint we pulled at the port.”

“No shit, you nearly decapitated the guy–!”

You are interrupted by the neigh of a horse, and when you whirl around you can see the head of the royal guard charging towards you and Satoru. You are quick to stash your poster in your satchel and to follow him deeper into the forest, dodging arrows as they are fired from crossbows.

The guards do not slow down, and their horses only seem to get closer to you by the second, so you send a quick glance to Satoru and you both nod. He pivots left and you pivot right, buying a few seconds of confusion from your entourage.

You’ll find him again—you always do—but in moments like this, crucial seconds can make the difference. An added bonus is the way one of you will help the other if they get caught, although now that your target was the royal palace and not some rando’s house you doubted your punishment would be something as simple as jail time.

So you sprint through the forest, up hills and around spiky bushes as you try to lose your pursuers. And of course, with your rotten luck, the head of the guard has decided you’re the bigger threat, being the one with the satchel where the circlet is stashed, so he is now after you instead of Satoru.

You hear the horses neigh just as you slide underneath a fallen trunk, barely dodging arrows meant for you. A stray vine almost makes you trip, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins replenishes the air in your lungs fast enough for you to keep running as fast as you can.

Your eyes dart around, looking for anything that could stop at least the horses from pursuing after you. You weren’t confident in winning against them, but you could totally outrun the guards on foot. There, in the distance, a tree stands tall in the middle of your path, blocking off the free space at its sides.

You grin, grunting when you manage to jump through its branches, before you resume your sprint. You are tempted to let out a whoop, although all your hopes are crushed away when you glance back and notice the chief is still hot on your trail.

Somehow, with the rush of adrenaline still in your blood, you manage to climb up a tree on the edge of the foliage. The chief doesn’t have time to think when you lunge at him from the tree, effectively knocking him off his horse and taking it for your own.

You let out a gloating laugh, which is quickly extinguished when the horse stops dead on its tracks. It turns to look at you, and its eyes shine weirdly in the sun, making its pupils seem almost golden colored while its white pelt turns almost rainbow where the sun hits it.

“Go,” you say with urgency. “Come on, lets go–”

The horse cuts you off when his—his?—eyes zero in on your satchel, and he starts doing strange twirling movements to both get you off and grab it, somehow knowing the circlet is hidden there. His eyes dart from it to you for a moment, lunging for it at the same time you try not to lose your equilibrium.

“Wha—Hey! Stop it!” you exclaim as the horse starts to twirl and jump and move forward. It is in one of those movements that the satchel flies away from your hands and into the cliff up front.

You exhale when it is caught by a strangely large branch that stretches out into nothingness, and from there on, it's a battle between you and the horse to get to it first. Satoru would mock you if he could see you right now, something about fighting your equal or such leaving his mouth as he struggles to maintain his composure.

But this horse plays dirty. It chews the edges of your pants, trips you, anything to bring you down. You use your nimbleness to elude the majority of his attacks, but just as you are about to reach the satchel, the branch cracks and snaps, sending both of you plummeting down to the forest below.

You scream as you fall down, losing your grip of the branch when a rock from the cliffside splits it in half. You grunt when you land on the grass, managing to roll off what could be grave injuries, before quickly getting on your feet and on the move. That horse would not give up, so you either needed to regroup with Satoru or find a place where you could lay low.

Thuds alert you before you see the horse again, so you duck on the side of a rock, crouched in between it and a wall covered in vines, and wait for him to walk away. You hold your breath as he somehow loses track of your scent and heads to the other side, maybe in search of its rider.

You straighten up when he leaves, walking backwards in order to maybe grab some vines and climb the wall. Only that the wall is not really a wall.

You yelp when you fall through, but your instinct makes you step inside the hidden cave when the sounds you made signal the horse of something in the vicinity. You watch as he moves around, his figure easily distinguished by the shadow he puts off against the vines. Your shoulders tense, but this time he leaves and you think it's for good.

“Why did I–?” you ask yourself when you check your satchel and notice the wanted poster next to the circlet. You shrug and stuff it back down, heading deeper into the cave. But like the wall not being a wall, the cave is not a cave, and so you walk towards the light, expecting a small clearing or a skylight.

You couldn’t be more wrong when you finally come face to face with the view, stealing what little breath you had left.

The valley surrounded by mountains is lush with green, multiple small ponds and grass patches and trees dotting it at random. In the end there is a waterfall, and the sound of water flowing calms you down, but even that can’t compare with the true star of the scenery.

A magnificent tower stands tall in the middle of it all, with vines climbing all over its foundations, hit just the right way by the sun that peeks from above. It is beautiful, yes, but also the perfect place to hide.

You dash across the valley, running side to side with the river flowing down from the waterfall. You take out stray arrows that had somehow found their way to your satchel—stashed by Satoru probably, as his idea of a prank—and manage to climb up the wall of the tower, using them as leverage to get you up.

You grunt as you do this, lamenting that having your partner with you would probably make it easier, but you press on, seeing the window—not the door because of course it couldn’t have one. Noo, everything just had to be difficult—and just so managing to throw your body over it with your last whispers of strength.

You close the shutters with a bang, finally having time to catch your breath. Ha! you think. “I’d like to see you climb that,” you murmur with a grin, not even perplexed by the fact that you are beefing with a horse. Then you feel a quick flash of pain on the back of your skull and everything goes black.

You are rudely woken up by a weird sensation in your ear, making your eyes snap open as you shudder. Chills run through your body as you notice you are tied with a weird ass rope to a chair, which, if you didn’t know better, is reminiscent of black, ebony hair.

It can’t be hair though because a, it is not possible for someone’s hair to be that long, and even if they didn’t cut it their whole lives, it wouldn't be as silky. And b, because hair doesn’t change colors when light hits it, and this strange black fiber is interrupted at times by golden strands that turn black again when it shifts in place.

You follow the rope—hair?—with your eyes, until your surroundings get too dark for you to distinguish it, only catching glimpses of gold when it shuffles. Okay, pause. Shuffles?

“What the fuck?” you ask out loud, breaking the silence you had found yourself in.

“Struggling… struggling is pointless,” a man’s voice answers from the darkness, prompting you to look in its direction. “This is not your turf,” he continues, which only makes you more confused. Is he chiding you for trespassing his home?

“Look, uh, sir,” you start, spinning a lie as fast as you speak. “I’m just a weary traveler–”

“I don’t believe you,” the voice cuts you off, and the owner’s clothes rustle as he stands, coming into the light. “Who are you and how did you find me?”

You are momentarily stunned by him. He looks about your age, with a deep indigo vest over a long sleeved cream shirt. His pants are the color of burnt umber, held in place by a lighter brown belt. But his clothes are nothing compared to the man itself.

Maybe it's your taste in people, but even Satoru cannot compare with him. His eyes are the color of deep purple, swirling with galaxies in its iris, framed by long, black eyelashes. His face is as sculpted as some of the most impressive sculptures you’ve ever seen, and his eyebrows frame his features perfectly, black like his hair.

But his hair is not pure ebony either. You note that it is the same thing that is binding you to the chair, proving right your earlier supposition of it being hair. Now that you know its hair, it's all the more interesting. It's black and gold and everything in between, and where the lights hit the top of his head, it seems to glow.

“Find you?” you ask confused after a beat. “I didn’t—are you on the run too?”

“On the run?” he repeats, eyes narrowing. “So you are a criminal then.”

“Okay, first,” you say, extending your pointer finger, “criminal is a hurtful label and totally not true–”

“So this wanted poster isn’t yours then? Starlight?”

He waves a crumpled up paper around, and you catch a glimpse of the same poster you had ripped from the tree earlier.

“That's not mine…” you immediately deny, trailing off when you realize you don’t know his name.

“Suguru,” he says. “Don’t wear it off.”

“Well, Suguru,” you say, “if you could just graciously let me explain—Wait, where did you get that? That was in—” You curse mentally when you notice your satchel isn’t with you anymore, wildly looking around the room you find yourself in. “Hey! That was in my satchel! What did you do to it?”

“I hid it,” Suguru answers, a small grin finding its way to his face. “Somewhere you’ll never find it.”

You scan the room with your eyes, your brain automatically registering any and all places, both obvious and not, where the satchel could be stashed. In the corner of your eye you notice a strangely placed pot, which, combined with the guy’s apparent lack of common sense, tells you it's the perfect hiding place.

“It's in the pot, right?” you dead pan, gesturing to the pot with your head.

You hear a clang and everything goes black again.

“Ow!” is the first thing you grumble when you regain consciousness again. “Keep going and I’ll have no brain cells left, princess.”

“I am neither a princess nor a girl,” Suguru says, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

“Yeah, whatever,” you respond. “Where then, is my satchel?”

“Now it's somewhere you’ll never find. But no matter,” he continues. “The real question here is what do you want with my hair?”

“Your hair?” You let out a small, unbelieving laugh. “Believe me, the only thing I want with your hair is to get out of it. Literally,” you finish, gesturing to your binded wrists as a way to emphasize your point.

He raises an eyebrow, like he somehow can’t accept that you aren't here to steal his hair. Wow, it sounds ridiculous just thinking about it. He circles you with his weapon of choice, an old pan, walking in and out of your field of vision. What weird hermit’s house had you broken into?

“You don't… want to sell my hair?”

“Why the hell would I want to do that?” you say. “Look, I was in a hurry and in need of a place to stay. I saw a tower, I climbed it, and now I’m here. End of story.”

Suguru looks you up and down, weighing your words now against the obvious lies you told him at the beginning. “You’re being genuine,” he finally says.

“No duh,” you answer, recoiling when he points the pan at you and a small lizard stands on its edge, glaring at you with its slimy eyes. You freeze, following its movements with your eyes when Sugure takes the pan back, retreating to the darkness.

He turns his back to you, slightly slouching down to talk with… is that the lizard? On his shoulder? Man, this place is just getting weirder and weirder by the second. He mumbles, and you only manage to catch truth and strangely fangs.

“Okay then, Starlight,” he says. “I’d be willing to offer you a deal.”

“A deal?”

“Yes. A deal.”

You watch as Suguru climbs the fireplace, your chair coming dangerously close to toppling over when he moves his hair to shift you in his direction. Your eyes are now more or less used to the lack of light, so you use that movement to look around. The walls of the tower are completely covered in paintings, ranging from people doing various things to multiple objects strewn about.

“This,” he says, revealing a mural covered by a curtain, “is what I want to see.”

The scene is that of a night sky framed by a forest, with who you assume to be Suguru perched on top of a tree. The night sky is filled with lights and you quickly recognize what it is he is referring to.

“You mean the lantern thing they do for the prince?” you ask.

“They’re lanterns?” he questions, looking back at his paintings. “In retrospect, it's kinda dumb to think they were stars, huh?”

“Stars don’t move,” you say. “Nor do they only appear once a year.”

“That's what I said!” he exclaims, turning to you. “Well, it doesn't matter. Tomorrow these… lanterns will appear and I want you to escort me to and back from the light show. Then, and only then,” he emphasizes, “will I return your precious satchel. Do we have a deal, Starlight?”

“Yeah, no,” you say, much to his dismay. “I’ll get lynched if I come as close as five meters from the kingdom. That is not a figure of speech.”

He looks you up and down, chewing his bottom lip, contemplating. “We find ourselves at odds then,” Suguru says. “You can’t leave without your satchel and I won’t give it to you unless we have a deal.”

“I don't know what brought you here,” he continues, jumping down from the fireplace’s mantle. “A poet would say fate, others would say destiny—”

“A horse did.”

“But against all common sense,” he says, completely smoothing over what you said, “I have made the decision to trust you.”

“You are right,” you say. “It is against common sense to trust me.”

Suguru scoffs, using his hair to bring your chair closer and closer to him. “So in return, you can trust me when I say that you can destroy this room, tear the tower brick by brick,” he says, punctuating each statement with a pull. “But without my help? Oh, you never find your precious satchel.”

You huff, looking down to escape the drilling holes of Suguru’s gaze, his face so close to you you swear you can see entire galaxies in his eyes. You meditate on your options for a moment; it's either lose what you almost gave up your freedom to get, or possibly get sent to the gallows for stealing from the royal family.

“You’re not going to budge, huh, princess?” you ask after a beat, relishing in the way the corner of his left eye twitches when you call him by the nickname.

“What do you think?” he retorts, tiling his head to the side with an irritated grin.

You hum, taking in his question. “Can we compromise on me giving you directions?”

“No.”

You groan. “What? There's, like, nothing out there that could harm you. Notice how I'm talking about you here?” you say, craning your neck to get closer. “With me, however, it's a given I’ll end up next in line to get hanged.”

“Not my problem,” he says. “If the poster is anything to get by, then you probably deserve it.”

His words would cut more if it weren’t for the fact that you’re pretty sure he is extremely sheltered, and so, he doesn’t know neither your life nor the context in which it was written. So you simply shrug and sigh, ready to accept his deal. Hell, maybe you could show him something to be scared about and he’ll abandon his childish quest of seeing the lanterns.

“Fine,” you say, not missing the slight twinkle in his eyes when you agree. “I’ll take you to see the lanterns or whatever. And then you'll give me my satchel.”

“Deal,” Suguru says with a grin.

#ebony and gold #ann writes #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru #suguru geto #geto #suguru

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