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rowanswriting · 27 days

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𝐇𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

steddie x fem!reader collab with @voyeurmunson

summary: a facetime call with Eddie and Steve gets heated

warnings- masturbation (f), mlm, jerking off, dirty talk, fantasizing, dick slapping, if I miss anything tell me!

wordcount- 1.8K

a/n: thank you guys for reading we hope you enjoy this, feedback is always appreciated and welcome! 💞

October 2022

Being cooped up indoors was making you stir crazy, you hadn’t seen your boyfriend in a week and you could feel the withdrawal setting in. Eddie had gone to visit Steve, his best friend that currently lived in Chicago. He was a CEO, a big shot but Eddie swore he was down to earth. You had to admit he was easy on the eyes and even you’d seen Eddie glance at him in a much more that friendly way before. You sighed as you slumped back onto your bed, opening your laptop before clicking on FaceTime. Eddie called every night around the same time, sure he wasn’t physically with you but seeing him always made you feel like a schoolgirl with their first crush.

“Hey sweetheart.” You smile as you see your boyfriend’s frizzy hair, his brown eyes sleepy as he rubs them with the back of his hand. “Missin’ me again peanut?” You nod, as he grins at you, the dimples on his cheeks prominent. “Can’t help it Ed’s you’ve been gone for way too long, tell Steve I want my boyfriend back.” You whine out, hearing Steve’s laugh ring out from somewhere in their room. He quickly pops into view, sitting down next to Eddie. His glasses sliding down his nose before he pushes them back up and grabs a blanket, curling up. “Sorry, didn’t you know he was my man before he was yours?” Steve says, winking at you as you roll your eyes playfully.

“So sorry, forgot you guys are married.” You say, Eddie laughs, leaning back against the couch as you watch the both of them. They both looked like sin, Steve with his brown sweater that complimented his eyes far too well… and Eddie, who didn’t even bother to put clothes on only in his boxers, the black hair on his stomach tempting. You wanted to run your tongue over it. Your mind wanders as they take turns telling you about what they had been up to today, you weren’t catching all of it simply because your mind couldn’t stop thinking about how you wanted to be between them.

You craved the feeling of Eddie’s calloused hands running over your body, down, down, getting closer to where you needed him the most before he’d pull away, a cruel smile dancing on his lips as you’d whine quietly. Steve would be on the other side of you, leaning down to your neck, his nose gently tracing up the side of it before nipping at your ear playfully. You snapped out of it as Steve’s hand waves in front of the camera, you feel yourself flush as Eddie’s laugh comes through your speakers. “What were you thinking about sweetheart?” He asks, a knowing look in his eyes as you glance over to the clock on your bedside table. “N-nothing really, just miss you Eddie.” You whisper, chewing on your lip nervously before looking back over at the two of them.

Steve sets his coffee down, glancing over at Eddie before leaning over to whisper something to him. Eddie smiles looking at you before nodding at Steve. You huff in annoyance. “Hey, no secrets, what's going on guys?” You ask, adjusting your shirt as you sit up against your headboard. “So Steve and I have had this idea, because sorry sweetheart you’re way too obvious about how you feel. I see how you look at the both of us.” You stop breathing for a second, your face heating up as you think about slamming your laptop shut. Shit. “We just wanted to ask you if you wanna have some fun.” He says, leaning forward some so that his eyes are practically burning through yours. “A-and what would this fun be Eddie?” You squirm a little, looking at where Steve was sitting, his eyes were glued to you.

“Oh I think you know sweetheart, I think you’ve been fantasizing some filthy things in that pretty little head of yours. We want to hear about it baby, is that okay?” You close your eyes, trying to ground yourself before opening your mouth to answer. “Yes sir, I’ll tell you.” Eddie nods. “Good girl. Every thought baby, they all belong to Steve and I. One more thing though peanut, I want you to touch yourself too while you tell us. Can you do that, baby?” You nod, your fingers twitching at the hem of your shirt as you focus on them.

“Was thinking about you touching me, both of you, touching me.” You slowly slide your hands up your shirt, your fingers leaving goosebumps as you imagine your hardest that they belong to either of the men on your laptop screen. You let your mouth run, your mind shutting off as you tell the both of them every deep and dark fantasy that’s played through your mind when seeing them. You bite your lip, your eyelashes fluttering as you try your best to keep your eyes open. There’s a moment where Eddie says something to Steve but you’re too lost in the moment to care.

Your fingers slip under the band of your shorts, sliding lower until a dampness covers them. Your breathing shortens as you hear Steve let out a choked moan, you glance at the screen again watching as Eddie’s hand slides over onto his lap, his ringed fingers teasing the prominent bulge straining against his pants. “You’re doing so good, baby.” Eddie whispers, his hand wrapping around Steve’s clothed cock the best that it can. Steve grips the back of the couch, the muscles in his neck straining as he lets out little huffs of air. His face is red as he lazily watches you. Your boyfriend is all too smug next to Steve while he teases him. “Show us what you wish we were doing to you honey.”

You slowly lift your hips, pushing your shorts off before your panties follow quickly behind. You scoot the computer down, making sure they have a perfect view of you as you spread your legs. You’re so wet you can feel it running down to your ass, ruining the sheets below you. You close your eyes as you imagine the two men in your room with you, caressing your skin as you lay before them. “She’s so pretty Eddie.” Steve moans, the sound of a slick fist can be heard, you didn’t know if it was his or Eddie’s. Your fingers trail down your thighs before you finally touch yourself for them. You gently place them against your clit, a sort of hiss breaking its way from your throat as you finally circle it slowly.

“There’s a good girl.” You hear Eddie say, your eyes open slowly and you think you’ve died and gone to heaven at the sight before you. The boys had made quick work while your mind was floating, not only were they completely undressed now… Steve’s hand was wrapped around Eddie, and Eddie’s hand around Steve. The both of them slowly work over each other, the sound of their wet skin and moans making butterflies flutter in your stomach. “Oh fuck.” You moan, as you slip two fingers inside yourself, “Want you both so bad, n-need you here, want you inside.” You say, your fingers slowly sliding in and out of yourself before you pick up speed, thinking about how they’d feel inside you, on you. You wanted their mouths on you, you wanted them to use you. “Fuck, Steve… Eddie.” You moan out.

“Look at her big boy, she’s crying for you. Think she could take this big dick?” He asks, taking his hand off of Steve before slapping it a few times. The muscles in his legs twitch as his body tries to coil away, the moans coming from his mouth telling a complete different story. You feel yourself throb, watching beads of pre-cum slide down Steve onto Eddie’s fist as he wraps his hand back around the other man. “Make him cum Eddie, wanna see.” You mumble, your other hand coming up to play with your tits, pinching and pulling your nipples until you feel like crying. Eddie smirks over at Steve, running his hand back up to squeeze at his sensitive head as Steve lazily strokes Eddie, his hand pausing every few seconds. “Gonna show her? Think she wants a show, Stevie.” Steve nods, his hair falling around his face as the muscles in his stomach tense up.

Eddie flicks his wrist over him a few more times before Steve is cumming, his eyes latched onto your fingers watching the way they push in deeper. “Fuckkk.” He moans, he sounds like he’s been taken straight from a porno as he fucks up into Eddie’s fist, his lips swollen and raw from how hard he’s bitten them. His hand grips tighter onto Eddie, creating a pain that has Eddie reeling, his own release threatening to break at any moment. Eddie’s eyes shut as Steve comes down a little more from his own high, stroking over the older man with a sick sort of smile on his face, he’s glancing between the both of you. “You should feel how hard he is honey, I just know he wishes he could cum in your pussy right now.” Your hips buck off of the bed as you pull your fingers out of yourself quickly, gliding them back up and around your clit.

“Y-yes Steve oh fuck, please, make him cum, want him to cum in me please I-” your rumbling is cut short as you spread your legs a bit more, your fingers pace growing erratic as Eddie moans. His head is leaned back against the couch, the curls that you love to pull on so much falling down over his shoulders, sweat is beading on his forehead and running down the side of his face. Steve does something that finally breaks you, leaning towards Eddie and opening his mouth. Your eyes focus hard as he sticks his tongue out, licking up from Eddie’s jaw to the side of his face before he’s pulling away, staring straight at you. “Cum. Right now. Both of you.” He demands. The both of you obey Steve’s command, your bodies giving up and at his mercy.

You’d never experienced something like this before, and you already feel addicted to it as your body shakes. You try to watch Eddie cumming too but you can’t keep your eyes open as you drift off into a blissful state, your chest heaving as you slump back against your bed, worn out. You faintly hear Steve’s voice muttering out praises as you smile happily, finally able to open your eyes. Eddie’s still leaned back against the couch, a dopey smile on his face as Steve laughs at him. “You weren’t kidding man, she’s perfect.” Eddie nods slowly like he can barely hold his head up. “We're doing this again sweetheart, if you want to of course?” You’ve never answered a question faster in your life, “Yes! please.” Eddie chuckles, slowly leaning down to pull his boxers back up. “Steve’s ticket has already been bought sweetheart he’s coming back with me.”

Oh my god. You’re doomed.

taglist 🏷️

@gri959 @munsonsgirl1234 @jamdoughnutmagician @strangerthingsmamareblogs @littlexdeaths @vecslut

#eddie munson smut #steddie smut #steddie #steddie x fem!reader #steve harrington smut #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve harrington x female reader smut #eddie munson x reader #joseph quinn smut

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astraystayyh · 3 months

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Burning in the winter wind

changbin x reader. (fake) enemies to lovers. hurt/comfort but it’s a light fluffy read!! college!au. lowkey romcom vibes (i tried 😭) wc: 4.4k)

summary : Sustaining an ankle injury during a ski retreat isn't fun. Especially when Seo Changbin volunteers to stay back to tend to you- the one man you can never get a read on.

a.n: sahar finally writing a fic that doesn’t take an emotional turn… we cheered!!!!!!!!!!!!! my 3rd fic for the winter falls collab with my writer :,) if u haven’t checked out xi’s fics yet what are u waiting for!!!!! please enjoy reading, i hope you’ll like this one too <3 i love you muah

“Are you okay?”

It is quite difficult to roll your eyes when your face is pressed against the snow, you’ve found, so much so you're sure you’re breathing in dainty snowflakes rather than the intended oxygen.

A dull pain emanates from your right ankle, the very one you just twisted while attempting to ski down a sled, making you plummet head-first into the hard ground. Despite how soft snow looks as it blankets the earth in a pristine white, it is quite incapable of cradling your fall. Instead, its snowflakes seem to liquefy, filtrating through your clothes and making a biting cold cascade down your spine.

Clearly, you are far from okay; hence, your eyes roll in a silent protest at the stranger’s questioning, though they cannot see you. If you further bury your head in the snow and do not move, would they think you are a collective hallucination and spare you the embarrassment of helping you?

“Um, should we call an ambulance?”

Clearly not.

“I'm peachy!” you throw a thumbs-up in the air, not bothering to lift your face off of the ground, you’re sure that by now the blank canvas beneath you has reluctantly molded itself to the contours of your face.

Much prettier than a snowman, you’d personally argue.

“Are you sure?” the tentative voice quips up again and you suddenly feel bad for ignoring this passerby, now stuck comforting an odd person whose limbs are not adequately crafted for skiing.

“Yeah,” you finally turn around, realizing that the pain in your ankle will not disappear, even if you choose to ignore it. “Just resting, on the snow. The view is nice from here, you know.”

The stranger backs away subtly at your words, and you chuckle inwardly.

“I got it.” Someone else speaks from your left and their voice carries a familiarity that drapes an uncomfortable weight atop your lungs. You pivot your head incredibly slowly, locking eyes with none other than Changbin.

You scoff outwardly.

“Need help?” he asks, hovering above you like a shadow.

Changbin was once your partner in a lab chemistry project, he is also the one person you now avoid most in college.

So, you do what any sensible person would in your place— you turn away, once again pressing your face into the comforting oblivion of the snow.

“I… can still see you.” His words linger, hesitating in the crisp winter wind, and you respond with a (now more effortless) roll of your eyes.

“I know.”

“Then, what are you doing?”

“If I pretend you are not here long enough, will you finally tire and leave me alone?”

“No.”

“Fine,” you huff, turning back once more. You summon the resolve to finally push your torso up from the pits of your embarrassment, before glancing down at your ankle, only to find that it has doubled in size. An angry scream bubbles up in your throat, but you will yourself to tame the fire within— if you think slightly more about your situation, you’d burst into tears right here and then.

“That needs to be treated,” Changbin states simply, his eyes also locked on your injury. You shut your eyes closed, forcing a deep breath to travel through your lungs. The oxygen you just inhaled seems only to fuel your anger more.

“I actually think it’s fine,” you put on the brightest smile on your face, yet your eyes refuse to follow the movement of your lips, making you look like a catatonic doll. You hope that’s enough to make Changbin go away.

“Who are you lying to?” he cocks an eyebrow at you.

You’re wrong. Again.

His self-assured tone further aggravates you, so you will yourself to stand up, wincing as soon as your right foot touches the floor. You bite your lip hard enough to draw out blood, the metallic taste of it coating your tongue uncomfortably.

“See, I can stand!” you say cheerfully and he crosses his arms before his chest, clearly unimpressed. “Try walking.”

“I actually wanna stay here.”

“Still as stubborn, I see,” he sighs, before bending his knees slightly. Next thing you know, you’re scooped up in his arms, your hands wrapping around his neck instantly.

“What are you doing?” you ask incredulously, eyes darting furiously over his face.

“Carrying you to the infirmary.”

“I can see that,” you say between your teeth. “I said I'm fine.”

“You clearly aren’t.”

“What are you? an ankle expert?”

“When your parents own the ski resort you kind of become one,” his eyes meet yours once, still as emotionless as they’ve always been when they gaze at you.

“Do your parents own this?” you clear your throat, surprise overtaking your tone.

“Yeah.”

“Can you tell them to upgrade my room to a suit, then?” you bat your eyelashes at him, your smile as sweet as saccharin.

“You literally buried your head in the snow two minutes ago because you wanted me gone.”

“Exactly,” you nod vigorously, “that was two minutes ago, I am a changed person now.”

“Yeah?” he smirks slightly, the corners of his mouth almost tugging upwards. “What changed?”

You shrug as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I didn't know your parents owned the resort.”

☃︎⋆꙳•❅

“It's not broken, thankfully, just sprained. You need to ice it, and not put any pressure on it. Keep your leg elevated at all times, and avoid walking at all costs.” Maria’s voice reaches your ears in waves, the pain in your ankle making it harder to grasp what she’s instructing you to do. Still, you easily understand that all your winter break plans are now officially ruined.

“But I wanna ski,” you pout at the fifty-something nurse who smiles sympathetically at you, handing you a cooling balm.

“You shouldn’t have fallen then.” Changbin deadpans before she can reply and your right eye squints in annoyance. Maria catches it and winks at you.

“You shouldn’t have fallen then,” you mimic, voice high-pitched. He simply shakes his head, a ghost of a smile appearing for a second on his lips, before disappearing promptly.

“Thank you, Maria,” he bows slightly, his voice sounding kinder when it speaks to everyone but you.

“Welcome, baby,” she squishes his cheeks before patting them gently, and you stifle a giggle at the blush sprouting on his face.

Maria leaves the room, stating that she has another patient to check up on. Your eyes remain downcast, glaring at your ankle as if it’ll scare your body back to health.

“You'll burn a hole into your skin at this rate,” he comments, his hand suddenly appearing in your line of view. You sigh in defeat before reaching for his hand, intertwining fingers as he aids you in rising. His arm becomes a secure anchor around your waist as he guides you toward the elevator. There, he inputs a code on a small panel before pressing button 44.

“That's not where my chamber’s at.”

“I know, I had them move your stuff to the penthouse,” he explains simply as your heart skips a traitorous beat.

“Actually? I was just kidding; I don't want an upgraded room.”

“I wanted to,” his eyes locked on yours, a myriad of stars seemingly swimming in his pupils. “It has easier access for you since it opens up directly in the room.”

“I'll pay you back. How much is the difference?”

He leans in, whispering a six-figure number in your ear and you feel your knees buckle underneath you.

“That much?” your face pales and he nods. “You still want to pay me back?”

A nervous chuckle leaves you as you lock eyes with the camera in the elevator, “thank you Mrs. Seo for the gift,” you bow down to the best of your capacity. “Thank you, Mr. Seo.”

The penthouse is much more spacious than your previous room, vast windows framing breathtaking vistas of pristine mountains. The sound of a crackling fireplace tames the fire within you, morphing it into a harmless ember rather than scorching flames, soothing your soul. A chandelier right above the bed casts a warm glow on the room, that softens your heart and makes you less resentful towards the snow.

“Here,” he sits you down on the edge of the bed, before heading to the mini-fridge across from the room. He takes out a packet of ice before promptly kneeling in front of you.

“It'll be a little cold,” he reassures before placing the ice on your wound. the sarcastic retort you had withers at the tip of your tongue, like a candle flame blown away by a gentle breeze; because Changbin is being gentle to you right now. his eyebrows scrunching as he makes sure not to hurt you even more, his fingers encircling just above your ankle to hold you in place. Clad in his black hoodie and joggers, the tenderness of his touch is an echo of softness from days long past.

“Thank you,” you whisper, hoping your voice would get lost in the crinkling of the wood. It doesn’t, as Changbin looks up at you, pausing his movements. “For helping me,” you add, “you didn’t have to do it.”

“It's okay. You’re not a stranger, so…” he trails off, as a buried bitterness floods your throat, akin to downing a shot of acid. You withdraw your ankle from his hold, taking the ice packet from him.

“You can go, I got it,” you smile, yet your eyes flee away from him, refusing to catch his gaze, refusing to peer into that same void that once lured you in.

“Fine. I'll come check on you later.”

As Changbin swiftly exits the penthouse, you sink into the mattress, hands pressed against your forehead, squeezing tight. to Seo Changbin, you were not a stranger. To you, he might have been everything, once.

☃︎⋆꙳•❅

You first met Changbin on the stage of your nationwide rap contest, held within the confines of your campus.

You did not know he was, but you were instantly captivated by his incendiary stage presence, and so was everyone around you, gleaming eyes turned unanimously toward him, the air ablaze with loud cheers erupting like a bubbling volcano. The question at the tip of your tongue was a natural one— “Who the fuck is this gorgeous man?”

It was as though he had sensed your inquiry, because soon after he concluded his rap with a boastful line— “They call me,” a pause, his eyes meeting yours, “Seo Changbin,” he finished, a subtle smirk painted on his lips, as if he knew that his name would become a golden trademark, one that the music world would remember for generations to come.

His gaze lingered on you, but you did not shy away from it, you’ve never been one to run away from the things you want. Instead, you smiled at him, a toothy grin that left your cheeks slightly aching afterward.

He did not return the gesture fully, but the corners of his lips did tug upwards, as he dipped his head slightly forward in thanks.

Cute.

You stayed back long enough to witness Changbin accept his well-deserved first place award, clad in his gray joggers, a snug black tank top, and atop it a deconstructed hoodie boasting enticing holes on the side, giving you a generous view of his sculpted muscles. His silver chains glimmered under the resounding flashes, and you felt a surge of pride at this stranger basking in the spotlight.

Your smile only grew wider as Chan and Jisung ran to him, encircling him in his arms and shaking him with palpable happiness. Thunderous cheers erupted, a chorus of voices chanting 'Seo Changbin' at the top of their lungs.

His name will stay with you long after that.

“So, is he single?” you inquired casually a few days later in the university cafeteria, three cups of iced americano placed before you, Chan’s extra sweetened. The latter looked up from his phone, eyes slightly widening, before leaning in.

“You like Changbin?” he asked incredulously and you squint your eyes, moving even closer to him.

“Why? Shouldn’t I?”

“I'm just surprised because you’ve never liked any of the guys I introduced you to.”

“Because they’re all douchebags who can’t keep up with me,” you declared, tossing your hair over your shoulder as Chan smiled amusedly.

“Hey! He introduced me to you,” Jisung chimed in from your left and you rolled your eyes, patting his shoulder reassuringly. “We’re better off as friends, Ji.”

That was true, your first, and last date with Jisung, ended up with you ordering sushi and laughing at your Tinder matches at an empty parking lot. He's been one of your closest friends ever since.

“Are we?” Jisung made obnoxious kissing noises and you faked a gag, pinching his arm. Han retaliated by yelling so loudly the entirety of the cafeteria turned to look at you. Chan attempted to cover his face with his palm, a desolated look painted on his features.

“Anyways,” Jisung cleared his throat once he settled again, “he is single. But he’s not looking for anything right now.”

“Maybe he just hasn’t looked at me yet.”

Fate seemed to be on your side because Changbin did look at you after that. Your professor Kim, an unwitting cupid, paired you with him for your chemistry project, and for the following month, you found yourself meeting Changbin every day in the college laboratory, to work on the synthesis and characterization of aspirin.

Changbin was different from anyone you’ve ever taken a liking to. He did not stir violent butterflies in your stomach, nor made your palms sweat endlessly from nerves. Instead, he infused a peculiar serenity within you, enough to make you eagerly count down the minutes until your next meeting.

Contrary to the fiery persona he unleashed on stage, Changbin exuded a calming aura that held you captive each time he drew near. It was impossible to divert your gaze from him, especially when his loose curls cascaded perfectly over his dark brown eyes, ones framed by thick-rimmed black glasses. His scent, a captivating blend of pinewood and spices, lingered like a second skin on your body, trailing after him and enveloping you in its embrace, long after he was gone.

He felt like a winter wind brushing against your skin—strong enough to be felt, yet cool enough to be craved by each one of your senses.

You sensed his gaze upon you as well, felt the subtle brush of his hand against your spine when he moved around you, unnecessary yet deliberate. How he brought you hot chocolate every time you met up to warm up your icy fingers. He was sweet and caring; in a way you’d only notice if you paid attention to the things said silently.

Yet, he remained an enigma—warm on certain days, cold on others. It seemed as if he restrained himself from growing comfortable in your presence, as if you were a bad weed that’d spread through his roots if he dared approach you. Or maybe that was how he viewed himself— a delicate shell with a void inside, guarding itself against any perceived threat.

Who was Changbin, truly? What did he like and dislike? Why did he withhold his smiles, stifle his laughter, and avert his eyes after just a fleeting glance at you? Why did he draw near only to retreat each time you attempted to get close? The questions swirled in your mind, creating a tapestry of curiosity that begged to be unraveled by his hands.

“Wanna come to karaoke with me and hang out tonight?” Chan asked a week after the end of your chemistry project. You hummed non-convincingly, nose buried in your newly purchased book.

“Changbin might come too,” he sang-sung and you quickly perked up, much more interested in his plans now. He snorted at your reaction, and in response, you playfully flashed him your prettiest middle finger.

Chan's disbelief was right though. It was unusual of you to be so expectant of someone’s presence, for your gaze to flee to the door every two seconds awaiting their entrance.

Despite your high hopes, Changbin did not come that night, and as much as you tried to have fun, a sense of disappointment tainted your mood. That, and the realization that he wasn't a mere crush, but something much more to you. The man you couldn’t get a read on was already coursing through your veins when you thought he had only stopped at the surface of your skin.

Muttering a quick excuse about needing some fresh air, you left the karaoke booth, exhaling heavily, the warmth of your breath translating into silver gusts of air in the chilly night. As you descended the stairs, however, your ankle twisted on the slippery ice, and you found yourself falling, bottom-first, onto the unforgiving concrete.

An ugly sob caught in your throat as hot tears streaked down your cheeks, your palm now scraped and bloody from the impact of the fall, in a useless attempt to soften the blow.

“Let me see,” someone crouched in front of you, and you gasped softly as your eyes met Changbin's concerned gaze.

“Oh god, this is so embarrassing,” you admitted, clasping your eyes shut as he gently held your injured hand in his own, blowing air into the open cuts to soothe their burn.

“I didn't see anything,” he reassured, his tone overly sweet, and you squint your eyes at his obvious lies. “Definitely did not see you trip over nothing,” he added, a teasing smirk drawn on his lips.

“Hey!” you punched his arm playfully and he laughed, full-blown high-pitched giggles you did not think Changbin, out of everybody you knew, would be able to conjure. His eyes were squinted close, his apple cheeks raising higher as he laughed some more, and you felt an electrifying warmth flowing through your being. Suddenly, you were burning in the winter wind.

Suddenly, you wanted to confess.

“Did you just get possessed by a five-year-old girl?” you teased as his laughter quieted down, the smile refusing to leave his face, yet. His eyes softened as they found yours, a simple hum leaving his lips in reply. He applied some pressure on your ankle, checking if it is swollen, but that was the last thing you cared about. The sight of Changbin smiling so freely still running through your mind, again and again. You replayed it enough times since to make sure it was safely guarded in your memory, that the long march of time may not wear it down, graining its delicate edges.

“You should smile more,” you said softly and he looked up at you, a twinkle of gratitude gleaming in his eyes.

“Your ankle is fine. Stay here, okay? I have a first aid kit in my car.” He didn’t wait for you to reply as he jogged up to his vehicle, and you sighed, heart clenching at how affected you were by his simple touches.

“It will sting a little,” he spoke gently once he returned, before dabbing up your cut slightly with an alcohol-drenched pad. You hissed softly and he frowned, pausing in his tracks. “Okay?”

“Mm,” you nodded, a small smile playing on your lips, “Okay.”

He continued cleaning your cuts, before applying a cooling cream on it and wrapping it in a clean gauze. He hesitated for a few seconds and your breath hitched as he leaned forward, placing the faintest kiss on your palm.

“Healing kiss,” he said shyly, a blush blooming on his face and you giggled, bringing his hand to rest upon your cheek.

“I like you, Changbin,” you said truthfully, simply, even as your heart thudded in your chest. “Tell me, should I stop? I don't want to hurt myself.”

“I…” he began, his words trailing off, interrupted by Chan walking out of the karaoke booth.

“What happened? Are you okay?” he asked, worry clearly dripping from his tone and you cursed inwardly. You loved Chan but you’ve never been more annoyed to see him. Your eyes flee tentatively to Changbin as Chan takes your hand in his, inspecting it.

“Let's go inside, it’s freezing here,” Chan pulled you up and you nodded, as Changbin followed suit, before he stopped you by the door, his hand on your arm. “Come over tomorrow, please? We can talk then.”

“Sure,” you smiled and he nodded, swiping his thumb soothingly along your wrist. “Thank you,” he whispered, before walking inside.

☃︎⋆꙳•❅

The landline ringing snaps you away from that long-buried memory, as it disappears before your eyes like morning mist. You rub your forehead tiredly before answering.

“Hello?”

“Hello, I would like to inform you that we'll be coming up with food service shortly,” the sweet receptionist announces in a cheery tone, and you furrow your brow.

“I did not order anything, though.”

“It is on the house. Enjoy your food!” she explains gleefully before hanging up.

On the house meaning it is Seo Changbin's treat. You couldn't help but scoff at the array of food presented before you minutes later, including that damned hot chocolate he always used to bring you, complete with marshmallows on top and colorful sprinkles because why settle for plain when you could have rainbows in your drink.

“He remembers,” ou whisper to yourself before sighing. What was the point of him remembering now? Every bit of hope you had was dismantled two months ago, akin to a hopeful dandelion blown away by the bitter wind.

You bite your lip, contemplating for a few seconds before finally dialing Changbin’s number.

“The food will get cold. Come quickly. I won't wait for you,” you mumble before hanging up and tossing your phone away.

A few minutes later, Changbin enters your room, his cologne still following him like a second shadow. You avoid his eyes as you dig into the seafood pasta, the one he ordered for you.

“Good?” he asks, and you glance at him from the corner of your eye. "Yeah, good."

“Are you okay?” he inquires, taking a bite of the pepperoni pizza.

You knew he was asking about your ankle, and yet, in this moment, sitting on the floor of the penthouse Changbin upgraded for you, eating the food he bought after tending to your injury, you suddenly no longer cared about the state of your body. Instead, an exasperation built up in your throat, directed towards the man who had left you hanging many nights ago.

“You confuse me,” you say honestly, putting down your fork and he frowns. “I confuse you?” he repeats incredulously.

“Yes. You always confuse me and I hate it.” Sudden tears threaten to well in your eyes and you groan, burying your face in a pillow to hide it.

“I can't believe you are saying this,” he whispers, pushing away his plate and you scowl, lowering your silky shield.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You never came, y/n,” His voice, draped in heavy emotion, catches you off guard like a sudden storm in the calm of the night. “I waited and waited for you and you never came.”

“I came,” you say quietly, the hurt suddenly feeling fresh within the confines of your heart. “At the wrong time, maybe the right one, I don't know. But I came.”

“What?”

“I came to your dorm only to see you kissing a girl’s cheek and hugging her by your door. You told her you missed her and to come later once you sorted something out. Was I… What? supposed to enter and sit there to hear you reject me?” You say quickly, finally releasing the words that had long haunted you.

An incredulous laugh escapes his lips as he runs a hand through his hair, slightly pulling at its edges. “My god, that was my sister.”

“What?”

“She came over unannounced that morning. I actually told her she can't stay the night because I had someone important coming over. That someone being you,” he explains and you feel hot embarrassment flood your being, then relief. For what, exactly? Wasn’t it too late?

“How was I supposed to know?” you ask defensively and his eyes widen as he comes closer to you.

“You could’ve asked me!”

“I was embarrassed because I put my heart bare to you. I told you I liked you when I wasn't even sure you liked me back.”

“Of course, I liked you back.” His voice softens as if it were a truth known to everyone but yourself.

“Then why were you so… distant.”

“Because you scared me, you came into my life unannounced and everything changed around me,” he pauses, a shaky breath escaping him. “Because I wasn’t looking for anything but it turns out I just didn’t know to look for you yet.”

You giggle against your will at his words, shaking your head slightly. “That's exactly what I told Chan when I asked if you were single.”

“See, soulmates,” he grins, satisfied, and you feel tingles pulsate through your entire being at his words.

“Slow down Mr. Seo. We are not even dating yet.”

“Yet? So, is there still a chance?”

“I…” your phone rings and you let out a loud groan as you peek at who's calling— Chan.

“You have the actual worst timing ever dude,” Changbin nearly screams into the phone and you can clearly hear Chan’s confused voice asking “Changbin? Where is yn?”

Changbin hangs up on him without answering, before putting your phone on silent. Then his, for good measure.

“It's like he’s my archnemesis or something,” Changbin sighs and you laugh, amused by his exasperation.

“So,” he clears his throat, a bit shyly, “can we start again? Properly?”

“I don't know… I need to see if something’s still there…” you muse and he cocks an eyebrow at you, leaning even closer.

“And how will you do that?”

You throw your hands around his neck, before resting your cheek on the slate of his shoulders. He remains still for a few heartbeats, only to tighten his hold on you, his lips delicately grazing the exposed canvas of your neck.

“I knew it, you smell nice, and you are really warm,” you sigh contently, closing your eyes as a soothing peace wash over you, all the worries you harbored dissipating at his warmth.

“You smell really nice too,” he whispers and a grin lights up your face.

“I can hear you smiling,” you point out, leaning away slightly to look at him.

“I’m happy.”

“That's cute.”

“You’re cuter,” he says, nuzzling your nose with his own. “Your total for the food is 160 dollars by the way.”

“Can I pay back with my kisses?” you smile cheekily, bringing your lips a hair breadth away from his.

He’s breathless as he finally presses his mouth on yours, “Please do.”

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagine #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #skz angst #skz fluff #skz au #skz fanfic #skz reactions #stray kids fanfiction #changbin x reader #changbin fluff #changbin imagines

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yourstrulynix · 1 year

Text

max, when was this? || ln4

social media!au | lando norris x actress!reader

synopsis; lando falls for someone who the internet considers way out of his league face claim; cindy kimberly

euphoria

liked by mygirly/n, ruepoo, madsbadbitch, euphoria4days and 1,344,234 others

tagged: yourusername

euphoria which rory look has been your favourite so far?

view all 4,588 comments

euphoriaconfessions i thought season one rory gave looks but this girl slayedddddd this season

y/nqueenie the first photo should be the cover photo for season 2 ep 1 because damn my queen is looking fire 🔥🖤

zendayaacc.96 I'm obsessed with her carnival look in the second pic from season 1 - i need to know where to get that top !!!

euphoria fun fact, most of the little bits like jewellery, tights and most of her shoes y/n actually owns and used them to help create rory's outfits

f1y/nforlife everyone is a y/n fan. even if they say they're not, they are a y/n fan ❤️

yourbestfriend

liked by yourusername, maxfewtrell, nancydaisy, mclaren and 18,321 others

tagged; mclaren, landonorris, yourusername

yourbestfriend special shoutout to mclaren for having our clueless asses

view all 987 comments

mclaren always welcome but please educate yourselves for next time 😋

yourusername i see how it is...i wonder if ferrari would be more welcoming

landonorris how dare you mention the enemy?

yourusername just saying it how it is 💅🏽

f1girlie21 I'm sorry but what is this interaction?????

yourusername i love you boo but you're the clueless one

yourusername

liked by zendaya, dominicfike, landonorris, billieilish and 4,629,288 others

location: milan

yourusername its fw in milan...

...and i'm wearing orange for the foreseeable future 🍊

view all 1,349,537 comments

fwupdates you looked stunning for the prada show!

zendaya my girl is 🔥

yourusername says the sexiest woman around

y/ngirlie21 why the hype around orange?

spinningy/n i wonder if it's a hint towards her rumoured collab with prada?

euphoriastyles ugh i hope they drop something soon - our girl's style is just fabbbb

landonorris

liked by yourbestfriend, max_fewtrell, neymarjr, george_russel and 745,382 others

landonorris miami

view all 942 comments

j_corden you're an absolute gentlemen! well done with the race

carlandocontent who's the girl in the third photo??

danielricciardo wow...i rocked that look

alex_albon how very george of you both

team_quadrant

liked by riabish, luv4lando, mclaren, yourbestfriend and 88,321,101 others

team_quadrant QUADRANT LIVEFAST PERFORMANCE PRODUCTS

28.06.22

20:00 BST

view all 723 comments

papayalove a y/n & quadrant collab! why weren't we warned????

myqueeny/n wtf i thought our girl was collabing with prada not some shitty twitch group?

roryeuphoriabuzz honestly, she is too fabulous for this

landonorris and yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, yourusername, lewishamilton, tomholland and 1,472,273 others

landonorris more photos of the LIVEFAST* by team_quadrant which is out now. this was a fun shoot 😏.

view all 5,408 comments

max_fewtrell don't think i've ever seen you so attentive during any of our other shoots...

landonorris bugger off

yourusername this was fun 😚

mclarenboys anyone else getting hot 🥵😧

f1papaya the sexual tension coming off this post is ridiculous

y/nseuphoria ok seriously who is this guy???

Twitter

max_fewtrell

liked by riabish, ten_quadrant, olivernorris1, teamfewtrell and 45,138 others

max_fewtrell spent june with some great people 🇬🇧☀️

view all 250 comments

theofficialfng i'm taking this personally mate

_aarava we see how it is

landonorris cutie

max_fewtrell dude...

theofficialfng dude.....

landonorris not you, idiot.

teamln4girl max, when was this? 🫢

fewtrellnorrisbabe not max soft launching lando's relationship

f1groupie I'm surprised neither of them let it slip sooner

side note; another part to come x

#lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris #lando norris social media au #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 #mclaren f1 #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x you #lando norris drabble #lando norris x y/n #formula 1 imagine #formula one

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hannahlovesluca · 4 months

Text

Under the (desk) Table

| warnings: smut, cursing, reader has fem parts

| summary: fucking during an off collab

| pairing: Vox Akuma

The idea that you were being watched made it more thrilling, though.

It was all you could do to keep quiet.

Vox wasn’t helping with the teasing.

He was getting more into it, bucking into your hand.

The movement caught you off guard.

You almost yelped, biting your lip to silence yourself.

“Hey, Y/N, the next question is: what was your first impression of me upon joining NIJIEn?”

The question threw you off; but the answer was easy.

You didn’t know whether to thank or curse Vox for asking.

Your mind was racing, but you kept stroking him.

You didn't let your movements falter, trying to answer him as quickly as you could.

It was hard to think, your mind fuzzy from the stimulation.

Your legs were trembling slightly from the effort of holding yourself still.

Vox had his hands under the table, one in his lap and the other between your legs.

The way he was rubbing you was making you go crazy.

It took everything you had not to moan, or whine, or squirm.

You were so close to begging him.

“Um- our f-first meeting was definitely weird..” You finally manage to say.

The words were difficult to get out; you had to think back on them, remember when you met him for the first time.

Your thoughts were so scrambled, but you tried to make sense.

Vox seemed to be enjoying watching you struggle.

His hand moved away from yours, moving your panties aside and slipping two fingers inside of you.

You gasped, eyes widening at the feeling.

The sound was barely audible, but Vox heard it.

He smirked, fingers curling inside of you.

He started massaging your g-spot, his thumb brushing against your clit.

“Care to elaborate?”

The bastard knew you were having a hard time answering, but he was having fun watching you.

His cock throbbed, and his own breathing was uneven.

He was close, and you were too.

Vox kept going, trying his best to not just fuck you over the table.

He wanted you, and the feeling was mutual.

It was taking all of your willpower not to beg for him to just bend you over the table and pound into you.

“Um- well-” You stammered, trying to speak.

Your face was flushed, and the way Vox was staring at you was making it worse.

He was smirking, watching you with lust-filled eyes.

You could feel yourself clenching around his fingers, and your hips twitched, pushing yourself down further onto them.

You couldn’t stop yourself.

Vox was enjoying every second.

The fact that you were doing this on stream was getting to both of you.

“We m-met by chance before even joining Nijisanji, a-at a party,” you start, “we both talked a-about what we w-wanted do if given the c-chance..”

The words came out a little too fast.

You hoped you were making sense.

Vox was having fun watching you, though.

He was enjoying the sight of you struggling to speak.

You were a mess, and the viewers were loving it.

There were a few comments asking if you were alright.

You were far from it.

You couldn’t keep up the act much longer.

You could feel the heat pooling in your abdomen, and the urge to scream Vox's name was overwhelming.

Vox knew exactly how close you were, and was loving every moment of it.

Your hand sped up, desperate to get him off.

You couldn’t hold out any longer, the feeling was too much.

You were about to break.

“You alright, Y/N? You sound like a mess, poor girl.” Vox asked.

You couldn’t tell if it was mock concern or genuine worry.

It didn't matter.

The comment only made you more desperate.

Your free hand gripped the chair you were sitting on, and your legs were shaking.

You were so close.

It took all of your self-control not to start begging.

You had to fight back a moan, clenching your teeth.

“Y-yes, I’m fine.. the l-last few drinks are g-getting to me,” you lied, the words barely making it out.

You hoped the excuse sounded believable.

Vox chuckled, smirking.

He could tell how bad you wanted him, but he was having way too much fun to end the game early.

He could have teased you longer, but he knew neither of you could hold on for much longer.

“I-I don’t feel s-so good Vox,” you managed to stutter.

You hoped it was enough to convince the viewers.

Vox laughed, pulling his hand away from you and moving the other from his lap.

He grabbed his drink and downed it, standing up.

His erection was still straining against his pants, but no one could see it.

Your body relaxed, your thighs still trembling.

The absence of his fingers made your core ache.

You needed him, but you were thankful for the pause.

“And with that, I think we wrap this stream up, yeah?” He announced, and the Kindred agreed.

After the stream ended, he wasted no time.

As soon as the microphones were off, he picked you up, setting you on the table and ripping your panties off.

#luca kaneshiro #ike eveland #nijisanji en #shu yamino #luxiem #mysta rias #vox akuma #luxiem x reader #luca kaneshiro x reader #ike eveland x reader #vox akuma x reader #luca kaneshiro smut #vox akuma smut #nijisanji smut

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drunk-on-dk · 8 months

Text

Tight Laced | Kim Mingyu (m)

Pairing: shop clerk!mingyu x afab!reader Genre: fluff, smut, roller-rink!au, 70s!au Rating: 18+ (minors do NOT interact) w/c: ~4.7k

warnings under the cut!

warnings: reader is on a budget and a bit clumsy; reader is called a square; explicit smut scenes; protected sex!; oral (fem receiving); sensitivity from multiple orgasms (fem); marking; public sex(?); mingyu hooking up on the job (?); desperate, whiny Mingyu; pls lmk if I’m missing anything; apologies as there may be some errors

a/n: I’m so excited to be back with a new post, especially as part of the 70s;teen collab with @svthub. I’m so thankful to be a part of another collab, it was so fun to really get into writing again and take some time to really enjoy writing a fluffier piece. Please be sure to go give love to each of the creators in the collab, they are all amazing, please go to this link to give their works a read!

Roller skates and Saturday night disco lights.

You wanted nothing to do with it, especially when most of your days were spent in your college’s library, trying to rack up as much spare change that you could with such a low paying part-time job.

Nevertheless, the job was arguably worth it. The library was peaceful, and the downtime allowed for studying. Other than classes, you really didn’t stray far from organizing shelves and spending nights at the cozy cavern of books that funded your education.

Which is exactly why it was shocking to your roommate, the outgoing and spunky Julie, when you strolled home at your usual time on Saturday afternoon and showed a bit more curiosity as she prepped for the night’s events. As per usual, her free-spirited attitude helped loosen you up after your morning shift, plopping down on your leather couch with a huff of relief.

“What’s so fun about going to the disco rink every weekend?” You pondered aloud, observing as she packed away her roller skates into her mini duffle, an anxious hand of yours reaching out to the pet rock sat on the end table.

“Oh, c’mon, Y/N,” Julie exhaled with a smile, spinning around to show her typical skating garb, pin straight hair whipping around her shoulder like a movie star. As per usual, she sported nylon disco shorts and a fun colorful top. “It is so fun to get dressed up, skate around, socialize, and groove to some great music. You’ve got to try it one day! It’s freeing, and God knows you need some of that.”

You chuckle, unable to deny that maybe, just maybe, it would be nice for you to get out and let loose for once. It does seem like a good time, especially since Julie never misses a single weekend since the rink became the hot spot, but you know all too well that she is the most positive person you’ve ever met.

As if Julie can sense your consideration, she gasps, clearly excited to make her next suggestion. “Why don’t you join me tonight, Y/N?”

“I don’t even have skates,” you counter, but it’s a feeble argument, knowing that it won’t suffice as an excuse for Julie. “You also know I’m a klutz,” you add, whining, as if that makes it any better.

“Well, we can get you a pair. They are sold cheap at the shop in the rink, or you can rent them. Plus, if you end up falling, just hang around and enjoy the music. Don’t be such a square.”

It’s a solid argument, Julie can practically see your walls crumbling down as you finally accept her invite to join her for the first time in the past year. It’s all a blur as Julie squeals, immediately dragging you towards her closet and holding up options for tonight.

As if you were Julie’s own personal Barbie doll, she quickly dresses you in what she finds suitable for your first night out. A pair of cut-off shorts and a colorful halter top to match hers. She doesn’t forget the finishing touches, pulling out a pair of thick socks for the both of you.

“Believe me, don’t forget to wear these,” she states, hinting at the risk of blisters, but they suit the final outfit regardless.

Before you have the chance to change your mind, you find yourself alone at the skate shop, considering if you should just purchase a pair of skates or rent them.

However, you were already enjoying yourself, the car ride to the rink with Julie’s friends was fun, and the appeal of the night was already becoming clear. Maybe it would be worth it to just suck it up and buy a pair. Julie had offered to stick around and help you with the skates, but you shooed her off to ensure she made the most of her night, promising that you’d join her sooner than later if all goes well.

You’re lost in your thoughts, the sound of ABBA reverberating in the background as you compute and make mental calculations on how much money you can spare to spend on a new pair of skates. That is up until a larger figure situates himself on the counter across from you.

“Aren’t they slick?” Dark, almost puppy-like eyes meet yours, the sudden presence of the shop clerk in your personal bubble snapping you back into reality.

It’s almost hard to speak, the clerk is a handsome man with fluffy raven locks, and, to be quite honest, you’re not so sure what he’s calling ‘slick.’ “Pardon me, but which ones are you referring to?”

“Oh,” he laughs shyly, his head flipping between you and the skates behind him almost nervously. “I’m not quite sure myself actually, I thought you may have been looking at the skates on the top right shelf, usually people just need some words of encouragement after they’ve been looking for so long.”

Goodness gracious, he is endearing, you think. There is something so boyish about his presence that makes you feel a bit more comfortable around him, even if he has looks of a Casanova actor. Even if his arms are rippling as he shifts his weight on the counter in front of you.

“Well,” you pause, taking a second to read the name on his name tag, “Mingyu, is it?”

He nods, a little too eagerly and you’re almost worried he’s going to shake up all the blood in his head.

“I have been looking at all the pairs, Mingyu. Just not sure on the price, and I’m not so sure it’s worth buying a pair if I don’t even know how to skate. Any recommendations?”

Mingyu considers your situation for a minute before turning around to face the shelving behind him. You can’t help but blush slightly, finally noticing his tight corduroy pants that accentuated the length of his legs. He seems to settle on a pair quickly, dropping them on the counter in front of you with a satisfied look on his face. The slam of the skates on the counter pulls you out of another bout of spacing out.

“Alright, space cadet, I’d recommend these. They are great for someone on a budget, but the wheels won’t lock up on you and they look nice too,” he’s a good salesman, they do look nice, but you still find yourself worrying more than one should for a leisurely activity like this.

Mingyu senses your reluctance and decides to throw in one last sales pitch, “plus, if you purchase these now, I will throw in a free skating lesson with the one and only professional roller-skater.”

“Hmmm,” you hum, hesitant fingers running over your purse zipper as you wait for the punch line. “And who would that be?”

“Me! Who else would it be?” Mingyu exclaims, his bright smile immediately reflecting one onto your face. He seems so pure and kind; how could you even say no to the offer?

“You’ve sold me,” you laugh, finally diving into your purse and gathering up the right amount of bills to make the transaction.

Mingyu is swift with accepting the money, wasting no time to hand you the change before promptly starting on the laces, blabbering mindlessly about how you won’t regret your purchase. Honestly, he’s talking too quickly for you to even process what he is saying.

It was quite astounding how he so easily sold you on the skates. He could be twisting your arm for all you know, but his smile seems so earnest, so you’ll give it a shot.

Worst case, you’ll come back on another day when he isn’t working and attempt to return the skates.

“Are you ready? Let me help put these on you,” Mingyu asks, dropping a ‘Be Right Back in 15 minutes’ break stand on the counter and skating around through the back gate with your new skates in hand.

He guides you to a nearby seat and starts explaining the best way to lace up your skates. Mingyu asks for your name at some point, and all you can do is stutter out your name nervously in response. It’s all garbled after that, your mind going blank as it becomes increasingly difficult to focus as his fingers help lace up your new skates, large hand wrapping around your ankle and sending goosebumps up your spine when he deems they are laced tightly enough.

“Laces too tight?” He asks, the question innocent, but the way his eyes flicker up towards yours sends heat right to your lower stomach.

“Nope, all good. At least I think.”

Mingyu chuckles, sensing your nerves and patting your knee in support, “alright, well get up then. Let’s try them out.” He slaps his thighs before standing upright, holding a large hand out for you to take, and pulling you up with him.

Feeling like you were just born with new legs, you’re hesitant to start moving, and you quickly realize how precarious the skates are. Instinctually, you grasp onto Mingyu polo, and he is quick to give you tips on how to keep you balance.

Mingyu assists in guiding you towards the rink, reminding you of techniques on keeping balance, and letting you know you two will take a lap slowly around the rink first.

It doesn’t take long for Julie to notice you two, her jaw dropping when she sees you latched onto the stranger for dear life as he holds your hand, pulling you along the side walls of the rink.

She sends you a look from across the rink, hair flowing in the wind before she slows down her speed. You shrug, a blush coloring your cheeks as Mingyu attempts to regain your attention by tugging gently on your fingers.

“Sorry about that,” you apologize, almost stumbling and falling backwards as you redirect your attention, but Mingyu is quick-thinking to steady you. “I’ll focus better, I know your time is precious as a professional roller skater.”

It’s an attempted joke, and warmth fills your chest when he laughs, his eyes lighting up with joy as he does a little wiggle move in an attempt to prove his skills to you.

“No worries let’s keep on truckin,” he winks, continuing the lesson without another beat passing. His hands stay linked with yours, skating backwards easily as he corrects your feet from a pigeon-toed position to pointing outwards.

Time goes by too quickly with Mingyu, he’s all too charming for you, and the wind that flows through his and your hair as you skate together makes it feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. You can understand why Julie loves Saturday night skates so much, the atmosphere is phenomenal, Julie occasionally slapping your behind when she passes by and thanking Mingyu for his help.

Skating also sounds especially appealing if Mingyu is here on these nights.

It’s disappointing when the night comes to an end. Julie has to practically tear you away from Mingyu’s skate shop, especially since he had to return back to the counter after a couple of laps, but he continued to spend the night and share tips with you. He even agreed to give you another free lesson.

Of course, you ended up joining Julie the next weekend for another skate, absolutely satisfying her as well. As exhilarating as it was knowing that you got to see Mingyu again, it was also exciting having more time with Julie, and being able to enjoy the hobby she loved so much with her. You’d even claim that some of Julie’s free-spiritedness was rubbing off on you finally.

Shockingly, you had denied picking up another shift at the library. Your boss wasn’t quite happy with your response, but Julie had encouraged you with a thrilled “stick it to the man” before dragging you out for another night.

Ultimately, Julie was right, skating was absolutely freeing, and you now had something to look forward to on the weekend other than spending hours of your life working.

However, inevitably, weeks passed rapidly, and you surprisingly became quite good at skating after how frequently you’ve visited the rink.

It’s been about a month since first joining Julie at the rink. Now you’ve become addicted to the weekend, absolutely looking forward to the loud music of the disco rink, colorful lights, and especially having the chance to see Mingyu’s dazzling smile.

Now you find yourself gliding across the floor much easier now, Mingyu signaling a thumbs up each time you pass by the skate shop, looking proud of how well you’re able to keep up with Julie as she drags you beside her and sings along with the Bee Gees, ABBA, and Donna Summer songs.

Sometimes you even do a little spin on the skates to show your new and improved skills. It makes both Mingyu and Julie laugh, Mingyu shouting “groovy moves” towards you both as you begin to coordinate your spins.

Yet, there’s a twinge of disappointment inside of you, knowing you no longer have the excuse that you’re poor at skating, and will no longer require the assistance of Mingyu. Thus, no longer feeling the burn of his fleeting touches as he helped encourage you to skate faster. No longer feeling the flames erupt inside your belly as he held your waist to balance you. No longer feeling his hot breath on your neck as he spoke instructions near your ear, even if it was just so you could hear him over the blaring music.

The only thing that kept you fed was that he only seemed to smile at you each time you passed by, even when most rink attendees had their eyes on him as well.

Julie seems to catch onto your fleeting looks, nudging you as a slower song came on to cool the rink, the lights dimming low and the disco ball being the only light radiating the rink. Mingyu’s tied up helping another girl around your age at the counter, her flirtatious nature clear as she covers his hand with hers.

Mingyu seems unsure about this advance, withdrawing his hand, but politely helping the girl with her rental skates.

“You two are ridiculous,” Julie sighs, “he’s clearly into you, you’re clearly into him, and both of you are too well-mannered to say anything. Hold on.”

Before you can say anything, Julie kicks your ankle, it’s a light kick, but it’s hard enough that it makes you bend over in slight pain. Like the speed of light, Julie is stomping off and skating over towards Mingyu’s shop. You can’t tell what she says to him, clearly pointing towards you, and you’re already preparing for the worst by the way Mingyu’s eyebrows raise almost up to his scalp.

Julie looks smug as Mingyu rushes towards you, the look of concern on his face making your heart beat a little too abnormally as you grip onto the sidewalls of the rink for support.

“Are you okay, Y/N? Why aren’t you sitting down? Julie should have taken you off the rink,” he seems stressed, quickly making his way into the rink and examining your bent over state.

“Oh,” you gasp when Mingyu’s arm wraps around your waist, encouraging you to lean all your weight into his broad body. “What do you mean? Julie just – “

“Your ankle,” he mutters, looking down at your feet worriedly as he finally sits you on a bench off the rink. “We need to get these skates off, come back to the shop with me really quickly, I have a med kit in the backroom, and I can wrap your ankle up.”

You don’t know what to say, unsure of the turn of events, shooting Julie daggers with your eyes as Mingyu carries you past her, but she looks all too smug for your liking.

Mingyu is prompt, carrying you into the backroom of the shop and propping you up on a small counter next to a sink. It’s a small room and it’s a tight fit for the two of you. The proximity is enough to make you feel dizzy as he searches for the med kit.

Mingyu’s deft fingers work expertly to unlace your skates, he sighs as his warm hands run over the lace marks left on your ankles where your socks didn’t cover. There’s also a clear red mark from where Julie had kicked your ankle.

“Does it hurt a lot? It doesn’t look like it’s bruising just yet,” He looks over your ankles worriedly, but quickly notices nothing is wrong.

“Um,” you quiver awkwardly, your cheeks becoming as bright as red roses as his soft eyes meet yours. “No, it doesn’t really hurt, but I didn’t injure myself. Blame Julie.”

He chuckles, shaking his head in exasperation with a small smile as he begins to realize the set up done by Julie. “I knew Julie might have been bullshitting. I told her you looked like a pro out there, but I know how clumsy you can be, space cadet, so I thought you may have actually hurt yourself.”

You hadn’t noticed Mingyu’s hands running up and down your thighs in a comforting motion until silence fell between you two.

“Well,” you breathe out, the air escaping your chest shakily as you become increasingly aware of how close you really were to Mingyu now. The goosebumps that paint your skin didn’t help hide the effect Mingyu had on you as well. “I’m OK now, so can you just put my roller skates back on?”

Mingyu nods, warm hands now leaving your skin and leaving a burning spot behind as he picks up your skates on the ground. The slight whimper you let out didn’t go unnoticed by Mingyu as his shoulder brushed your knees on the way back up.

Subconsciously, your legs begin to move without second thought, opening a bit wider and allowing for Mingyu to slot himself between your thighs. The air around you two begins to feel suffocating as his fingers softly grab your ankle once again, just like the first time, and sending heat right down to your lower stomach.

“Are you sure you’re OK, Y/N?” Mingyu breathes out, his fingers wrapping around your right ankle and lifting your leg up a bit teasingly. “You seem like you can’t catch your breath? Are you sure it doesn’t actually hurt?”

You know he’s teasing you now, his voice dropping an octave lower as he stares directly into your eyes between his dark lashes. The way he massages your ankle hints that he knows damn well that your ankle is perfectly OK.

“Yes,” you gasp as his finger dips into your sock, slowly unraveling the material and blowing on the exposed skin of your leg.

“Does it tingle?” He whispers, voice so deep that it practically reverberates through your head.

“Yes,” you’re practically whimpering as his hands run up your calf, past your knee, and over your thighs until his fingers reach the cutoff of your shorts.

“Good or bad?” His fingers dig at your skin gently, pressing into the sensitive skin as his lips close in dangerously towards yours.

“Good,” you sigh, you could practically feel his lips against yours at this point, your entire body tingling with desire as he closes in on you. It’s practically electrifying.

“Is this OK with you, Y/N?”

“Of course,” and with your consent, Mingyu presses his lips against yours, the soft buds melding against yours without much effort.

He’s quick to devour you, tongue sliding across your lips begging for permission. Of course, you oblige, accepting the deepened kiss needily. Mingyu’s fingers slide even further under your cutoffs, making the kiss between you two even hungrier as you feel his nails dig into your plush skin.

Mingyu whimpers into your mouth when your hands find their way into his hair, the sound of him driving you closer to insanity as he lets you lead the kiss for a bit. You’re amazed by how pliable he is, loving the way he presses closer to you with each gentle pull of his thick locks.

Breaking the kiss for a moment, Mingyu hums, “can I take these off of you, Y/N?” He’s pulling at the waistband of your shorts now, the desperation of his tone making your entire body buzz with anticipation.

“Of course,” you sound winded, but Mingyu sighs in content, hastily working to remove your shorts after swiftly unbuttoning the waistband. He’s quick to capture your lips with his again, the hunger clear in the way he pushes into you, easily pulling your shorts off and discarding them on the floor.

Mingyu’s eyes are wild when he leans back to observe you, his look darkening as he focuses in on your bare thighs. He practically loses his mind when he notices a wet spot on your panties, the cotton slightly darkened and he’s dropping to his knees before you can protest.

He’s at a perfect height, large hands grabbing onto your ass in order to pull you towards the edge of the counter, his eyeline leading right where you’re the most vulnerable.

“Can I please taste you?”

“Please,” you beg, head throwing back in pleasure when he slots his mouth over your panties, nose nudging your most sensitive spot as he sucks at the wettened fabric. His mouth his hot on your clothed cunt, sending a ping of delight through you as he licks at the cotton. “Not enough.”

Mingyu moans as if to acknowledge your plea, one finger hooking at the fabric before his tongue dives between your folds. He’s immediately messy with his actions, tongue lapping passionately, tasting as much of your sweet nectar as possible as he works you closer and closer towards your first burst of overwhelming heat within your core.

Your hands are weaved in his hair again, encouraging him to lap and suck on your clit as the pulses of pleasure become even more unbearable to hold. He coaxes you to your first orgasm with one sharp suck to your clit, your juices spill out all over his tongue as he gladly licks it all up.

Mingyu doesn’t give you much time to recoup, standing back up to kiss you hungrily, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue as he begins to work at his belt buckle. With your help, he’s able to pull his corduroys off, reaching for a condom in his wallet before dropping the pants to the ground.

He’s unable to roll it on himself as you kiss and nibble at his neck, desperate whines escaping Mingyu’s mouth as you decide to take over. He feels a bit of relief when you work it onto his cock easily, the tight latex squeezing his aching length as you begin to slowly jerk him off.

Mingyu’s close to losing his mind when your hips buck in anticipation, your small hand still working at his length, and he stutter out a request. “C-Can I- please feel you completely?”

“Yes,” you moan, hips lining up with his as his tip glides between your folds, sensitivity sending a jolt through your body when he brushes your clit. “God, Mingyu, just do it.”

Mingyu’s length slowly enters you, your walls sucking him in without hesitation, waves of pleasure immediately warming you as his length and girth fills you all too perfectly.

Mingyu’s hands are gripping at your hips, his own muscles shaking as your walls take him in easily. You’re squeezing his cock in a way that has him moaning a bit too loud, your shushes reminding him that he is at work, and you are still in the rink. Even if the music drowns out your noises.

His thrusts are slow at first, ensuring that you can take every inch of him before he picks up his pace. Mingyu’s moans only get louder as your walls begin to pulse, squeezing with each unforgiving thrust of his hips, becoming groans as he dips his head into your neck, teeth sucking harshly at your skin as you breathe out in ecstasy.

He’s precise with each thrust, his tip nailing a spot so deep inside of you that you begin to see stars as your eyes roll back in pleasure. Your hands grip at Mingyu’s back, an attempt to ground yourself as Mingyu’s length fills you so deliciously, that you think you’ll be addicted for the rest of your life.

“Holy shit,” you cry out at one particularly hard thrust, the fiery heat building at your core, and you’re not sure how much longer you can keep quiet, nor how much longer you can keep your second orgasm at bay. “M-Mingyu.”

Something flips in Mingyu when you moan out his name, hand coming up to grab you chin as he forces your eyes to meet his. His pace quickens impossibly, his pubic bone brushing against your clit occasionally and bringing you closer to your breaking point.

He’s egged on by the wild look in your eyes, your swollen lips as his name falls from your mouth like a prayer, and he encourages you to come as obscene sounds come from the space where you and he connect.

“Make a mess of me, Y/N,” he pleads, even when he’s hammering into you there’s a hint of desperation in his tone, and all you can think about is making him fall apart himself. Your walls clench tighter around him, pulling yet another groan from him as the burning pleasure in your core explodes throughout your body, your thighs shaking as you feel the release spread like wildfire.

Mingyu is quick to follow, hot cum filling the condom inside of you, sending a second wave warmth throughout your core as his cock pulses. Mingyu’s canines dig deeply into your shoulder in attempt to hide his groans, only intensifying the sensitivity of your throbbing clit as he continues to thrust shallowly inside of you, riding out his high until the last second.

You’re like two naïve kids in love when he pulls his length out, tossing the soiled condom into the trash and making a note to really clean up the backroom before he leaves tonight. He giggles bashfully into your neck, observing the dark marks he left from his attempts to muffle his noises, but it only leaves him desiring this more and more. His nose comes up to nudge yours, pulling you in for one final sweet kiss.

“What about another lesson?” He whispers between kisses. “Looks like you’re a pro out there now.”

“I don’t think I’ll be needing those anymore,” you giggle, squirming as Mingyu fixes your panties back into place. He looks a bit disappointed, as if he’s unsure where to go from here. Slowly he helps you get dressed, buttoning up your shorts after he pulls his own pants back on.

“Y/N?” Mingyu tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, and you nod expectantly. “You know I don’t just give out free lessons to anyone, right?”

You almost laugh boisterously, but you simmer down quickly as Mingyu’s lips form a slight pout. “Oh really?”

“Yes, really,” he says very matter of fact, “I only offer them to the most special of people. I even tied your laces extra tightly to make sure you wouldn’t twist your ankle. Yet look where we are now.”

“Well, I did learn from the best,” you prod, “I guess you didn’t teach me to watch out for Julie’s though.”

Mingyu chuckles, the same endearing sound you’ve grown used to. “That’s true, I guess no professional could have been prepared for Julie’s antics.”

“So, what now?”

“What about a date? Or a couple’s skate? Think you can keep up with me?”

You laugh teasingly, “how about can you keep up with me?”

“I should have never sold you those skates,” Mingyu jokes, pinching your nose, but his eyes give away that he’s in way too deep, absolutely head over heels about you. “Why don’t we go test that out? How about we test out that theory every weekend?”

Roller skates and Saturday night disco lights. How could you have ever wanted nothing to do with these two things?

#svthub #svthub.collab #70s;teen #kim mingyu smut #mingyu smut #seventeen smut

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deadlinesmb · 11 months

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Shop Fusion Collab - PaRappa the Rapper

There is a very big difference between pre-Shop Collab me and post-Shop Collab me. That difference is that I am now a huge backseat PaRappa fan LMAO.

I had the distinct honor of animating Morshu's ridiculous PaRappa rap sequence, making it a complete gameplay scenario to the best of my ability. I also edited the gameplay UI overlaying the rendered animation!

Prior to working on this section, I had never consumed any sort of PaRappa media. I immediately got to doing my research and studied the animation of PaRappa 1/2, as well as Um Jammer Lammy. It was then when I realized how fucking AWESOME this series is. I ended up falling in love with it, going as far as to watch the entirety of the PaRappa anime throughout the process of this animation. I would even watch it in the background while actively working on this section LOL.

But I digress. Work on this section started immediately after Nico and I had wrapped up with the Splatoon 3 section, meaning I had more than a baseline knowledge of Blender animation by this point. Using the reference gathered from PaRappa gameplay footage, I was tasked with animating a believable gameplay sequence to the rhythm of the section's vocals, lovingly crafted by ThisGreenDingo with a vocal performance by KoltJolt as PaRappa (who you may know from that one "i thlammed my penith in the car door" animation LOL)!

This was so. Much. Fun. I remember being so worried about the animations looking janky or broken due to the limitations of these rigs, but as I progressed I realized that the jank is what gives PaRappa its soul, and the only way to make it true to the source material is to embrace it.

(image from Nico's Twitter, once again showing his contributions to this section)

Once again, it wouldn't be possible without the help of my teammate Nico, who took care of the modeling/rigging, with Morshu character art from our teammate, Party Rock. This part was so dumb and silly but these two did such a great job with helping to bring it to life.

#siivagunner #shop fusion collab #parappa the rapper #parappa #zelda cdi #morshu #3d animation

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mint-yooxgi · 4 months

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Fight or Flight - Yandere!Redcap!Mingi X Tall!Chubby!Reader

Fae!AU & Yandere!AU - Part of the CoDN Thrill of the Hunt Collab

Genre: Fantasy, Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Pairing: Mingi X Reader

Words: 7,327

Rating: Mature - 18+ MDNI

Warnings: Please read the warnings carefully, as this is a very heavy story dealing with many dark topics. This is also all of the warnings for this fic as it is one long one shot that I had to split into multiple parts, and I'm too tired right now to individually categorize all of these warnings to their respective parts. 8 ft tall Mingi. Slow burn. Violence: depiction of a massacre, a deer being slaughtered, as well as physical, verbal, sexual, and emotional, both alluded to and not. Blood and gore. Abuse: physical, emotional, verbal, and sexual, both alluded to and implied. Assault: physical, and sexual, both alluded to, implied, and attempted. OC has a really rough past, really this isn't for the faint of heart. Whipping, both alluded to, and done. Mentions of branding. Heavy themes of possession and ownership. Deception. Arson. Really, there's a lot of dark subject matter. Mingi falls hard and fast, thus, he simps a lot for the OC, but it's not a story written by me if Mingi doesn't simp for the OC. The reader is mentioned to be both tall and chubby, but it is not mentioned often, so it shouldn't disrupt the flow of the story when ready if you are not tall and/or chubby. I think that's everything, but if I missed something, please let me know! Smut: Biting/marking, outdoor sex, fingering (fem. rec), oral (fem. rec), hand job (male rec), come eating, overstimulation, Mingi has a dig bick, sex in a spring, really, it's very soft in comparison to the subject matter. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

P.S. If there are any spelling or grammatical errors, please ignore them. I did my best through many rounds of editing, but some are liable to still slip through.

A/n: I am SO sorry this took me LITERALLY forever to complete. I meant to have this out so much earlier, and actually posted on time, but it turned out much, much longer than I ever anticipated it being. I'm really proud of how this story turned out, and I didn't want to split it into multiple parts because I felt it would take away from the story as a whole. I'm super excited for you all to read this one, as I had a tremendous amount of fun writing it, and I really hope you all love Mingi's and OC's journey as much as I do. Huge shoutout and thanks to @anyamaris and @kwanisms for listening to me ramble and rave about this story both before and during the writing process, and for always encouraging me while writing! Also, huge thank you to @sanjoongie for being so patient and understanding with me as I write this all out in full. I hope you all enjoy! As always feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

Summary: Out of one horrible situation and into another, the cycle of abuse never stops. You've lived with monsters your whole life. So, what's one more?

P.P.S. Please don't let this flop guys. If you enjoyed it, please reblog!!!

Mini Masterlist

An annoyed sigh leaves his lips at the incessant chatter he hears around him. Low whispers rise in volume until the dull buzz of voices consumes him, interrupting his post meal relaxation. Irritation mars his features, his brow tugging downwards as he pulls the broken sliver of bone he had been using to pick at his teeth with out of his mouth.

“What is with your incessant whining?”

All Mingi had wanted to do was relax after dinner. In peace, within the confines of his makeshift encampment at the heart of his battalion, but it seems there’s been a commotion at the far edge.

“Humans, General.” One of his underlings, a vice-captain under his command, Darius, hisses. “They say they want to make a deal.”

Mingi scoffs, rolling his eyes, “Not too bright, are they?”

“When have humans ever been known to be smart?” Darius snickers.

Mingi heaves a long sigh, standing to his feet. “Given the length of this interaction, I can’t trust any of you to be competent enough to end this quickly.”

“They’re persistent, General.” He replies, flinching back as Mingi turns his sharp-eyed gaze to him.

“You let them think their words had any merit of importance to us.” The redcap general snaps. “No wonder they’re being so uncooperative.”

Striding through the encampment, the whispers finally come to a halt. A dead silence surrounds his soldiers as Mingi strolls through their ranks, eyes zeroing in on the small gathering of frail humans. Darius rushes along behind the proud general, whom stands a good eight feet tall. The tallest amongst his redcap companions.

A red sash is tied around Mingi’s bicep, alerting all to his rank within the gathered redcaps. There is a clear air of respect the others hold for him as he walks passed, holding his head high, no falter in his steps. Some even go so far as to look upon him in awe while others incline their head out of respect.

Reaching the edges of his encampment, Mingi scowls. “What’s the big idea here?”

“Ah, General!” Lias turns to him, a malicious grin tugging at the younger captain’s lips. “These humans insist on making a trade with us.”

“How did they even find us in the first place?” Mingi darts his gaze over to the three standing before him, just over the threshold of their protection line.

A woman seems to be holding another in her arms. The one with her head down doesn’t say much, but the one holding her trembles as she meets Mingi’s gaze. The male, slightly taller than the woman being held, stands a little straighter.

“We know mushroom rings will bring us where we want to be, or rather, to whom.” He replies, almost defiantly. “You just so happened to be the closest in the area.”

“Why are you wasting our time?” Mingi growls, teeth bared over much too sharp fangs.

“Please,” the woman holding the other in her arms seems desperate as she attempts to take a step forward.

That’s when he notices: the tall women is unconscious, being held up by the other. He quirks a brow, unaware a frail human such as the small one could ever be so strong.

“We just want to make a deal.” The man states, rather firmly.

Mingi’s gaze darts between the two humans.

“They want us to take their daughter for them.” Lias snorts, Darius laughing along with him. “As if we would care for such a useless mortal.”

“We know a little about your kind.” The woman continues. “Please, we know she’ll be better off here. We don’t want anything in return, just her safety.”

“She can earn her place.” The male adds. “She can look after herself, just please, take her with you.”

“We’re not about to gain something you don’t want.” Mingi retorts harshly, crossing his arms over his chest. “She has no use to us.”

“That’s not it at all.” The male is quick to shake his head, attempting to take a step towards the gathered redcaps only to be greeted by snarls and snapping fangs. He freezes. “Please-“

“We don’t need one of your kind slowing us down.” Mingi states, narrowing his eyes at the way the unconscious woman sways slightly. Honestly, he’s surprised this woman hasn’t fallen over yet, or caused the other holding her up to collapse under her seemingly dead weight.

“She won’t slow you down!” The woman is quick to protest.

“Watch your tongue, mortal.” Darius snaps. “This is no ordinary general you’re speaking to.”

The woman bows her head, cowering back and holding the other tighter to her chest. Though, due to the height difference, it looks quite awkward. A fact only echoed by the snickers Mingi can hear echo out behind him.

“Oh, come on,” Lias tilts his head slightly, a mischievous gleam in his gaze. “This could be fun. We could always use another pack mule.”

Some more snickers are heard from around the area, along with the snapping of jaws in agreement. The harsh clicking of fangs only rises in sound, and Mingi can smell the spikes of fear from the two conscious humans. A taste he absolutely revels in.

“The human would be safe with us from whatever outside forces you’re referring to.” Lias continues, his lips stretching widely over all too sharp teeth.

Mingi spares a glance around at his men, noting their sudden change in attitude. The eager gleams he sees throughout the crowd have him heaving a sigh.

“Very well,” he turns, beginning to walk away from this whole matter. He’ll let his men have their fun, and with any luck, the human will be dead come morning. “She’s your responsibility, though. If she survives.”

A cheer rises up through the surrounding redcaps as the tall women gets torn from the other’s arms and dragged across the protection barrier. Mingi thinks nothing of the way a faint smell of blood rises on the air, knowing his men are probably already having their fun after bringing the human properly into their realm. The other two have already been sent back, their memories altered forever. If they even remember having a daughter at all would be a miracle.

Entering his own private tent, Mingi settles into his favourite chair. Kicking his feet up onto a little stump, he leans back, relaxing into the evening chill that begins to settle over the land. They’ve still got a long ways to go to return to their keep, the scouting mission having taken a lot out of them. The rogue redcaps they had been hunting have all been dealt with. Traitors, every last one of them. The fight they had put up was gruesome, but as always, Mingi and his men came out on top.

Despite it all, some of his men still have energy to burn as he hears the familiar hooting and hollering of his subordinates last long into the night.

***

The next day, Mingi wakes to the encampment practically all cleaned up. Some of his men are finishing last minute preparations for travel, their bags packed and stored for easier maneuvering. All that’s left is to secure his own lodgings for the next leg of their journey.

“The human finally woke up.” Darius informs Mingi as he steps to the head of the line.

“She’s not dead?” Mingi quirks a brow, barely bothering to scan the gathered ranks to see if he can spot the women he saw last night.

“We figured we could use her for some entertainment-“ at Mingi’s sharp glare, Darius stops himself. “She’s surprisingly stronger than she looks. We’ve loaded her with a few packs and told her to carry them for us, or else she won’t like the outcome.” The vice-captain shrugs. “She complied.”

Mingi hums to himself, turning towards the direction they’ll be setting off in in a few minutes. He finds it odd for a human to be so complacent. All of the stories he’s heard contradict such simplistic actions. He was expecting screaming, and an attempt to run the first moment she regained consciousness.

Even more shocking is the fact that you’re still alive.

“Don’t let it go on too long,” Mingi shoots him a look out of the corner of his eyes. “Have your fun, but make sure she doesn’t slow me down.”

“Of course, General.” Darius nods, saluting him before running off to finish some last minute things.

Quietly, Mingi observes his battalion. He can see Lias barking orders at some subordinates to finish packing the rest of the camp quickly. Others appear to be scrambling about, and true to Darius’ word, Mingi spots that same tall woman from last night standing off to the side.

There’s nothing special about you. At least, from what Mingi can tell. You stand upright, spine straight with three packs carried on your figure. Their bulk simply adds to your own, nearly drowning you in their sheer size. Your face looks worn, and tired, but you move around where they instruct you to without complaint.

Mingi just hopes you can keep up with them.

A few minutes later, the redcaps are on the move. Multiple shoot you looks of disgust as they run passed, growling lowly in your direction. Some even go to far as to purposely run into you, spitting on you as they knock you over in your attempts to keep pace with the company.

It isn’t more than an hour into the morning when you start to fall behind.

Mingi heaves out a sigh, smelling the faintest bit of blood again in the air. A scent not uncommon in a group of redcaps, given their premise. Though, what truly annoys him is the subtle limp you attempt to hide as he marches over to you at the very rear of his guard.

Again, his men part for him silently. The simple power he exudes enough to silence even the rowdiest of the bunch.

“Are you that incompetent that you do not know how to walk properly, mortal?” He sneers, irritation clear on his features.

“I can walk just fine.” You reply bluntly.

“Then, keep up.” He snaps, turning so as not to waste another word on you for the moment.

With Mingi’s back to you, he fails to notice the harsh glare you send his way, but his subordinates do.

A harsh slap rings out through the forest, a dull thud heard soon after.

“You dare look upon our general with such vile contempt in your eyes?” Lias’ voice booms out through the surrounding redcaps, catching Mingi’s attention.

He freezes, turning to spare a glance over his shoulder.

There you rest, face down on the ground as you attempt to push yourself up. Your clothes are even more disheveled than before, dirt smearing your cheek. Yet, that harsh look still rests upon your face, even as the smell of blood becomes more prominent in the air.

“I didn’t ask for this.” You keep your voice low, but still clear enough for everyone around you to hear.

“Well, get used to it, Sweetheart,” Lias hisses, tugging you harshly back to your feet by the back of your neck. “You’re no better than a pet, now.”

You say nothing, instead opting to purse your lips. Your eyes narrow as you watch Lias retreat from you, hands fisted around the straps of the packs you carry as your whole body seems to tremble.

If Mingi didn’t know any better, he’d say you’re angry.

No… not angry. Disappointed.

Turning back to face front, Mingi decides to ignore you for the rest of the day. You’re not his responsibility, and how his subordinates treat you is truly none of his concern. Really, if it were up to him, he would have sent those two other humans bargaining for you to join them here in the fae realm packing. Perhaps he should have made an example of you all when he had the chance. Only, now, he’s stuck with you, and he’ll have to learn to deal with it, for the sake of his men. It’s not like you’re the only human he’s ever dealt with before.

Luckily, for the rest of the day, travel does not get halted again. You manage to keep up just fine, only falling behind once more near sunset. Mingi had wanted to travel for longer this day, covering more distance and hearing no complaints from neither you nor his men.

The faster they get home, the swifter he can deal with the mess that is you.

Mingi wants nothing to do with you. All you are to him is a pathetic little human. So frail, he could break you with the flick of his wrist. His eyes narrow on your figure as he sees you collapse against the side of a tree, none of his underlings sparing you any supplies as they set up for the night.

No food is offered to you, but you manage to scrounge some water. Your throat burns, and your feet ache as if they’re ready to fall off at a moment’s notice. The stitch in your side is finally calming down, and you’re just grateful none of these fae have ordered you to help them set up camp for the night. No, they stated they didn’t want you touching anything, or doing something wrong, and for once, you’re thanking your lucky stars for such a harsh verdict.

Lightly, you rub at your leg, right where you know that fresh wound still resides. It’s not a deep cut, but twisting wrong, or moving around too much aggravates the scar. Not to mention your limp which has returned even worse than before, due to the speed at which you’re expected to move.

Despite it all, you don’t say anything. No, you learned the hard way what talking back meant. Though, that might just be your one salvation through this all. Perhaps tomorrow you’ll see how far you can push these redcaps, and discover if their nature really lives up to their legacy.

For now, you settle deeper against that tree. It’s late, and you are exhausted. Sleep is one of the best things for you now, especially since there’s no way you can return to the life you previously once had. Thinking back on it now, you don’t know if you’d ever want to.

Not that you really ever had a choice.

The next morning brings another early start, you being commanded to carry even more than yesterday on your back. The only saving grace is that it seems the speed at which the band you’re travelling with has lessoned, but that doesn’t stop your whole body from aching.

Two more days pass like this, insults thrown at you by the surrounding redcaps, only for them to take out their amusement on you by either scratching you by ‘accident’, spitting on you, or pushing you to the ground. You manage to get some food, but it’s both rotten and vile. You’re honestly surprised your body hasn’t given up on you, yet.

You start to complain, but to your relief, or rather, disappointment, no one bothers to take your whining seriously. That, or they’re quick to shut you up, but not in the way you so desperately hope.

It’s around midday when you feel yourself lose your footing. The sun is shining brightly in the sky above your head, a few clouds drifting lazily by as you tumble harshly to the ground. The worst part is, you end up landing badly on your injured side. Unluckily for you, both that scar and your bad ankle are on your right leg which just so happens to land awkwardly on top of the root you tripped over.

You attempt to keep them at bay, but the sudden sharp pain you feel shoot up your leg sends tears to your eyes. You can practically feel your cut tear itself anew, a dampness seeping into the material of your tattered pants. Your breathing is heavy, and you can hardly force yourself back onto your hands, your entire body groaning in protest. Every ache pulses through you with each heartbeat, and in the back of your mind, you wonder if this is truly the end.

“What’s the hold up this time?” You hear a stern voice huff out above your head.

Mustering enough energy, you tilt your head upwards at the approaching figure. There’s a brief moment where the sun blinds you, filtering through the branches in such a way that burns your vision with a bright light until a shadow looms over you. Blinking reveals the redcap’s general standing before you, a look of pure ire marring his features as he glares down at you.

“Get up.” He growls, not even bothering to nudge you with his foot. You’re too far beneath him to bother.

A sad attempt is made by you once more before you’re collapsing on top of your weakened arms.

“I. Can’t.” You manage to get out through gritted teeth, squeezing your eyes shut through the pain.

Mingi snorts. “Pathetic.”

With a roll of his eyes, he storms away from you, barking out orders to set up the encampment. From what you can hear, he plans to move out during the night.

They need to stop to eat, anyways.

Insults are hurled your way by various underlings, some even going so far as to step on you as they walk passed. It’s as if you are worth no more than the dirt beneath their feet as you continue to lay there, weak and injured, just waiting and begging for death to finally claim you.

“You’ve really been a thorn in the general’s side ever since you joined us.” A voice to your left catches your attention.

“I didn’t ask to become a slave.” You retort is half grumbled into the earth, brow furrowing as you glare in the voice’s direction.

A chuckle is heard from above you. “Last I checked, you weren’t actually bound to this group.”

Out of the corner of your vision, you see a male, or rather, what appears to be a male, crouch beside you. He appears a bit shorter than his companions, perhaps even an inch or two shorter than you, and that’s saying something.

“My name’s Windfel,” he says lightly. “I’ve never met a human before. What’s your name?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you huff, finally managing to push yourself upwards and shrug those packs off of your back.

A hiss escapes you as you accidentally apply to much pressure to your right side, hand grasping over where that reopened cut resides. The dull throbbing you can feel, mixed in with the sight of days old blood and dirt only has you wincing. The wound is more than likely infected, and probably has been for the past few days. Only, you don’t have anything to treat it with, and it’s not like you can go around asking for help.

“Oh, you’re more clever than we give you credit for.” He grins. “You must know that telling a fae your true name means they have complete power over you.”

“You’re the ones who assumed me incompetent in the first place.” Your retort is low, and almost immediately, you flinch, as if bracing yourself for an impact of some sorts.

Again, he only chuckles. “That we did.”

“Is there something you want, Windfel?” The question is a bit harsh, despite you avoiding his gaze.

“Not in particular at the moment,” he hums. “I’m simply satisfying a mere curiosity. I’ve read a lot about you humans, thanks to the experiments in the Latha Court.”

“You experiment on humans?” Your eyes widen, a surge of panic washing through you.

“Yes.” He replies, somewhat cheerfully with a nod of his head. “We learn a lot about your kind that way.”

“You’re despicable.” A shudder caresses your spine.

“So I’ve been told.” He grins. “I am a redcap, you know.”

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice him tip a flat cap stained dark red in your direction.

“I’m aware.” Your answer is blunt as you attempt to stand to your feet. You don’t get very far, for you immediately fall back onto your ass as your arms give out beneath you.

A small ‘oof’ escapes you as you land on your right side, eyes squeezing shut as more tears spring up from beneath where you’ve always tried to hide them.

“You’re not looking so good,” he observes.

“Thanks for noticing.” A low grumble is all he receives in response as you attempt to push yourself upwards once more.

Another chuckle. “I like your sense of humour.”

A side-eyed look is sent his way curtesy of you, “If you want to call it that.”

“Come on, I’ll help you.” He goes to lift you to your feet.

Immediately, you cower away from him, a brief panic filling your gaze as you fixate on his hands.

“I have no intentions of harming you right now.” He replies, somewhat calmly.

“Why are you trying to help me?” You eye him cautiously.

He shrugs. “I’m bored.”

As much as you don’t appreciate his answer, you have no better options. Somewhat reluctantly, you allow him to help you to your feet, guiding you to a tent already prepped and ready. He lifts the flap, allowing you to stumble your way inside and sitting in a chair as per his instruction.

The tent is large enough to fit three people comfortable, appearing more spacious on the inside than from the outside. You suppose it has to do with the magic of the fae, considering they’re able to store everything and carry it so efficiently in such packs, no larger than what you’re used to calling knapsacks.

“You know, you really have caused a great deal of annoyance for our general since your arrival.” He says as he grabs a roll of white medical cloth from a little side table.

“I never asked for this.” You mumble, keeping your head down.

“I’m aware you were brought unconscious into our ranks.” Windfel replies. “Is there a reason for that?”

“Not that I’m obliged to tell you.” Your eyes narrow suspiciously, watching every movement he makes closely.

You highly doubt anyone will come to your aid if you decide to scream for help.

“Just making conversation,” he responds, lifting his hands lightly in front of himself in a shrug. “I’m not a healer, so all I’m willing to do is let you wrap that wound. If you’re lucky, you won’t have to dress it when we get back to the keep.”

You purse your lips, eyeing Windfel as he places the roll of cloth beside you. A moment later, and he’s moving around the tent, rummaging through his own pack and pulling out a fresh pair of clothes.

“What, exactly, is this ‘keep’ you all continuously talk about?” You ask, somewhat warily.

He completely ignores your question, tossing the spare clothes at you.

“I don’t use these anymore, and although we typically enjoy the smell of blood, we don’t enjoy when wounds fester.” His nose crinkles along with his words. “There’s a small stream about a quarter of a mile to the northeast. I’ll take you there once you’re ready.”

“You’re being awful nice to me for someone who doesn’t like my kind,” You observe, eyeing him carefully.

“I care about my general, and anything I can do to… lesson his burdens, I will.” Comes Windfel’s simple reply. “When you’re ready, I’ll be outside.”

You watch him step out the opposite flap of the tent he entered, brow furrowing as the material slaps shut. Shouts can be heard outside, along with the hustle and bustle of the rest of the encampment being set up. You bet the rest wouldn’t have even notice you moved from that tree, yet.

Tilting your head downwards, you look at the clothes in your hand, feeling the fabric between your fingers. It’s been far too long since you’ve gotten any type of new clothing. Back in the human realm, the only time you got a new piece of clothing was when- no. You shouldn’t be thinking about that right now.

Swallowing thickly, you look over at that roll of white medical cloth. As much as you don’t trust this redcap, this is the first ounce of kindness you’ve received in quite a long time. There’s a part of you screaming at yourself not to believe it, but there’s another part, a part much more vulnerable that clings onto the hope that maybe, just maybe, things are starting to look up for you.

Your life has never been worth much, but perhaps someone is actually starting to see value in you that has never been there before. Then again, you probably shouldn’t get your hopes up. They’ve fallen too many times for you to count.

Taking a deep breath in, you grab that roll of medical cloth. Carefully, you wrap it in the bundle of clothes from Windfel, and stand back to your feet. Though you wobble slightly, you’re able to steady yourself, and within a minute, you’re exiting through the same flap that redcap did only moments before.

A single nod is all you give him as you stand outside the tent. A single nod of which he returns, motioning for you to follow him deep into the woods.

***

The journey to the stream is slow, taking well over an hour to get there. The distance is much greater than you were expecting, and the path isn’t easy at all. As much as Windfel seems to be ‘helping’ you, he did not once offer you a hand through the rough terrain of the woods through your travels.

“Will there be enough time?” You ask, eyeing the trickling water at the edge of the bank.

“Relax,” Windfel huffs out lightly. “Knowing the general, he’ll probably spend at least another two hours resting. So, as long as you don’t take too long, we’ll be fine.”

You purse your lips in response, but say nothing.

“I have no interest in watching you bathe, either, human.” He says, turning so his back is to you. “So, you needn’t worry about that.”

“I’ve never had much privacy, anyways.” You grumble, but as soon as the words leave your lips, your eyes widen. Terrified, you glance at Windfel’s back.

Choosing to either ignore your statement, or you entirely, he stands there, unmoving, His back is straight as he gazes out into the woods in the direction you both came, paying no mind to even the sound of water trickling behind you.

You turn back around.

Darting your gaze to the stream once more, you notice how clear the water seems to be. The movement against the stones appears languid, a gentle breeze flitting through the trees in the next moment. It’s almost as if the stream is inviting you in, luring you into it’s pristine waters, and the longer you stare at its enchanting depths, the more you long to dip your feet into its calming waters.

“What’s the catch?” You grit your teeth, cursing yourself for being so stupid.

“You humans always think there’s some sort of trick to everything, don’t you?” Windfel chuckles, and suddenly, you feel his hot breath on your neck. You didn’t even hear him move. “I could push you in, if you like, but I don’t think that would bode well for your wound.”

Your spine straightens. “I can get in myself, thank you very much.”

“You are most welcome.” The way you can practically feel him smile against your back has a shiver running down your spine.

A moment later, his presence at your back lessens, and you find yourself able to breathe easier once more. You spare a glance over your shoulder to see him resting in that same spot as before, his back turned as he begins to hum a small tune to himself. Eyeing him cautiously for a few moments, you finally turn back around to face the stream, deciding that he won’t actually do anything to you. Besides, even you are starting to not be able to handle your own stench, and that’s saying something.

Slowly, carefully, you begin stripping yourself of your old clothes. The tattered shirt you wear gets tossed onto the ground beside the new one, your pants following shortly after. You have enough mind to leave your undergarments on, just in case Windfel decides to play a trick of some sort on you, or run away with both sets of clothes. You still need something to wear, and Windfel is still a man.

Men are never good at keeping their promises. You learned that the hard way.

Stepping towards the very edge of the stream, you take your time sitting down. Each movement is stiff, pain shooting through your right side as you finally get a good look at the cut on your upper leg.

The wound festers, dried pus caked on the edge. The cut itself is swollen, days old blood littering the skin around it. From how bad it looks, you’re scared to even touch it, but a creeping thought in the back of your mind keeps you inching towards the water with every passing second.

You’ve had worse.

Carefully, you dip your toes into the crystalline water. It’s a bit cool to the touch, and causes you to jerk back, surprised by its icy feel. Yet, it’s alluring in a way, as if it’s the softest of silk that has ever caressed your skin. A luxury you have never been afforded, and you take the time now to savour it, despite the chill that clings to your feet as you submerge them beneath the gentle flow of the stream.

In no time at all, you feel yourself get used to the water’s icy chill, sinking deeper and deeper until you’re fully sitting on the edge of the river bank. Being mindful of your leg, you angle yourself so you can lean towards the water, cupping your hands together in order to gather the cool liquid in your palms and clean your wound.

The first few handfuls sting, but you grit your teeth and bear it. With each handful of water, more and more of the dirt, grime, and blood is washed away, revealing the cut to have gotten longer over the past few days. All that running around must have strained it, and reopened the wound over and over again, leading to the edges widening, and the cut deepening.

No wonder your whole leg has been aching. You just hope the infection isn’t already in your blood. There’s no telling what may happen to you, then.

“Oh my, that looks bad.”

A voice from above your head startles you, and you nearly go toppling into the stream. Looking up with a hand clutched over your chest, your eyes wide in panic, you see Windfel leaning over you, inspecting your cut.

“A few more days and you would have had to cut it off,” he remarks casually.

You physically feel your heart drop, your eyes briefly shifting to your right ankle. You swallow thickly, a jolt of pain travelling all the way from your foot upwards to your hip as tears unwillingly spring to your eyes. Almost involuntarily, you begin rapidly shaking your head, protests falling from numb lips.

“I’m just shanking ya!” He laughs, boisterously at that. He even goes so far as to pat your shoulder a few times, wiping tears of joy from the corner of his eyes.

“You’re not very funny.” You whisper, expression hard.

Windfel blinks, “Geez, tough crowd.”

You purposely avoid his gaze, looking back out over to the opposite bank of the stream. Your lips are pursed in a thin line as you slowly manage to get your breathing under control. Even you can hear the thunderous pounding of your own heartbeat, so you sure as hell know that Windfel can, too.

“I thought you weren’t going to watch me.” You mutter, slowly turning yourself further into the stream.

“No, I said I had no interest in watching you bathe.” He remarks, matter of factly. “There’s a difference.”

“If you say so,” you mutter, slipping into the water and putting a little bit of distance between you and that redcap. Not that it would really matter, in the long run.

The chill of the water causes your body to stiffen for a moment, only for the entirety of your muscles to immediately relax. The chill morphs into a gentle caress, and as you sink down to allow the water up to your neck, you find yourself letting out a small, blissful sigh through your nose. Involuntarily, your eyes slip shut.

“Feels better, doesn’t it?” Windfel hums.

Your eyes shoot open, turning to look over at the redcap who is back to standing in his original spot, facing away from you.

“I-“ you swallow, keeping your voice low. “I haven’t had a chance to bathe like this in a long time.”

“Yeah,” Windfel snorts. “I could tell.”

He makes a gesture similar to fanning the air in front of himself, and you find yourself rolling your eyes. You even go to far as to splash water in his direction before you can stop yourself.

Even though not a single drop of water touches him, your eyes still go wide. Not a muscle moves as you stare at him, your heartbeat thudding once more in your ears.

“Damn, human, you really are uptight.” Windfel snickers. “As if a little water could hurt me. It’s nice when such creatures are playful. Adorable, even.”

“I don’t think many would agree with you.” You mutter, gently pushing yourself backwards and creating just a tiny bit more distance between yourself and him.

“You’re probably right,” he hums. “Though, we all can agree on liking to be amused.”

“You confuse me.” You state blankly, rubbing at your skin lightly beneath the water and washing away any excess dirt and grime you can see.

“The feeling is very much mutual, human.” He replies. “I bet if you lived on your own as long as I have in the wild, you’d feel the same way.”

“Oh, yeah,” you hum, clearly not convinced as you dunk your head under the water briefly. “I’m sure.”

“Oh, come on! You’re telling me you’ve never lived in the woods before? Never fought for your own survival all by you little lonesome?” Windfel’s voice is slightly mocking, and you know he’s probably only trying to get a rise out of you.

Unfortunately, though, it’s working.

“I think you and I have two very different definitions of survival.” You say, scrubbing a bit harder at your skin.

“Perhaps that is true,” he hums once more, as if considering your words. “But come on, you can’t tell me you’ve never wanted to know what it’s like to live on your own.”

“How do you know if I’ve lived on my own or not?” You retort, eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion.

“I don’t.” Windfel shrugs. “From what those of us who care enough to read about your kind can gather, it’s observed that you usually go out on your own once you reach a certain age.”

“And you’re one of those that have read about my kind?” You quirk a brow.

The longer you spend talking with Windfel, the more you seem to ease into the conversation. Though the water continues to feel nice around you, you also decide that it’s time to remove yourself from the stream so you can quickly dry off and make it back to the others. The last thing you need is for something to happen, or for you to finally face the wrath of a redcap.

At this point, that may just be a blessing.

There’s almost a slight tug at the back of your mind. With each step you take towards the bank and your awaiting clothes, a small voice tells you to stay. The water seems to be caressing your entire body, becoming denser around you with each step. It’s almost as if the stream is trying to hold you down, to force you to not leave its waters. Yet, despite it’s almost enchanted callings, you persist, managing to pull yourself out of the crystalline water and back onto the side of the bank.

The consequences of staying far outweigh the rewards in your mind.

You fail to notice how Windfel’s brow quirks in surprise, but he continues on the conversation as if nothing is wrong.

“I’ve read a few things, yes.” He confirms. “Knowledge is power, or haven’t you heard?”

“Power is power, no matter where in the world.” You grumble, flicking off as much excess water on your body as you can before beginning to wrap your upper thigh with that medical cloth. Once finished, you tie it off quickly, but not tight enough that it will hurt you even more than you already are. A moment later, you stand back to your feet.

“Spoken like a true scholar,” Windfel teases lightly, his back still turned to you.

Slowly, you begin pulling on the clothes he leant you. The pants are a little short around the ankles, but they fit surprisingly well. Considering the size difference between the both of you, you’re surprised the shirt even managed to pull over your head, but it’s loose, and you’re grateful for the soft material that graces your skin.

“Still, you should definitely try living on your own at some point.” He remarks casually. “There’s no feeling quite like freedom.”

Your whole body freezes, gaze slowly trailing over to where Windfel stands, now at the edge of the wood. He seems to be holding a bundle in his hands, and when you look down, you realize that it’s your old, raggedy clothes.

“I wouldn’t know.” You state, rather firmly as your eyes narrow at the redcap across from you.

“Oh, yes, well,” he finally turns back around to face you, a grin tugging at his lips to reveal all too sharp fangs. “About that…”

“If you’re going to kill me, get it over with.”

Your words clearly catch him off guard, for now it’s his turn for his eyes to widen in shock.

“My dear, why would I want to kill you?” He chuckles, shaking his head. “You’ve done nothing but be forced upon us since the start. I may be a monster, but I’m not unreasonable.”

“Like I’ve never heard that one before.” You mutter, rolling your eyes.

Again, your breath hitches as soon as the words leave your lips, and you find yourself flinching backwards away from Windfel instinctually.

He frowns, but doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he says, “I told you. I care about my general and how much your presence burdens him. It’s easier this way if you just disappear.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You want me to disappear, but not kill me?”

“For the most part.” He blinks, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“How do you expect me to do that?” You frown, doing whatever you can to hide the clear exasperation in your voice.

“Run away.” He states.

“Excuse me?”

“Run away.” He repeats with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “I doubt they’ll even notice you’re gone.”

Now, it’s your turn to blink at him. Once. Twice. Three times in disbelief as you cannot keep your mouth from falling open in shock.

“You’re shitting me.”

“I think the whole point of you bathing was for that to no longer be the case.” He says smartly. “I told you. You’re a burden to our general, and if I can relieve that burden from his shoulders, I’ll do whatever it takes. You’re not currently being hunted, so there’s no reason to kill you right now.”

“And where will I go?” You ask, incredulously. “I have nothing-“

“Find the Latha court, I’m sure those human lovers will take you in.” He cuts you off, a slight twitch to his brow. “Go that way,” he points off to your left with a clawed finger. “There’s a small town. I’m sure someone will give you a hand.”

“Like you did?” You quirk a brow, eyeing Windfel carefully.

“Exactly.” He nods. “Now, you best be on your way, little mortal. My patience is starting to wear thin.”

Though the last part of his words he says in a cheerful voice, the way his eyes gleam in the light of the setting sun unnerves you.

Without waiting for another chance, you take the one presented to you.

“I better not see you around again.” Windfel hums, and you can hear him beginning to trudge in the opposite direction that you are. “You won’t like it if you do.”

A shiver caresses your spine at his words, and you find yourself picking up your pace. Reaching the opposite end of the little clearing where the stream is, you quickly spare a glance over your shoulder. Windfel is nowhere to be seen, and you do not know if it should relieve you, or terrify you. All you do know, is that you have to put as much distance between yourself and that gang of redcaps as you can. To start, you just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

The trek into town is a lot easier than you thought it would be. It only takes you about forty minutes to reach the outskirts, and with every step, you seem to gain better footing than before. The ache in your leg is dulling, and your head is the clearest it’s been in weeks. You don’t trip over any roots, or stumble over any rocks, either. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say things are actually starting to look up for you.

That’s when it hits you.

Is this even reality anymore?

Windfel could have cast a glamour over you. You could be under some sort of spell, or undergone some weird magic while bathing in that stream. You have no way of knowing what is true or not, unless you talk to someone. Even then, your chances of them tricking you are high, but it may be the only way to tell what is true or not.

Standing at the edge of the town, you do a quick scan of those you can see. The sun has already set, and the faint glow of lanterns casts a warmth around the surrounding buildings. There seems to be only a few people milling about, and honestly, you shouldn’t really call them people at all. From what you can gather, all these beings appear to faeries. Some have grand wings that sprout from their backs, ranging from feathered to those of the insect variety. Others, you can only discern from their height and pointed ears. The few flashes of razor sharp teeth aren’t that reassuring, either.

The only relief seems to be that all of the inhabitants steer perfectly clear of you. Save for one, who watches you fidget from across the way. His gaze dances with amusement, and you don’t know if that unnerves you more than if he were glaring. Long, dark hair is pulled back in a half-ponytail to showcase his sharp features. He sits on the edge of some steps leading up to what appears to be a shop of some sorts, his elbows resting on his thighs as he leans forward.

The moment he catches you staring, his eyebrows quirk curiously.

Turning away quickly, you curse yourself. You’ve always been used to blending in back home, that you didn’t realize just how much you’d stick out in the Fae realm. Perhaps you really are in over your head, but where else are you supposed to go?

A voice, smooth and deep, coming from behind startles you.

“Are you lost, Little One?”

#thrill of the hunt #cultofdionysusnet #mfu-net #yandere mingi #yandere ateez #mingi scenario #mingi imagine #ateez scenario #ateez imagine #kpop scenario #kpop imagine #yandere kpop #kpop au #fantasy au #chubby reader #tall reader #fae au

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brisquad-unit-4402 · 5 months

Note

Hey! If possible, could you write doppio dropscythe x reader dating headcanons? Maybe the reader is also a vtuber in nijisanji rn, but it’s a secret from the internet?

i had this draft since the cheftective era and haven’t touched it in a few months, i’m not so sure why, especially since it was almost done... if it seems dated then that's why. thank you for your patience anon, i loved writing for doppio! he's very difficult but very fun!

tags: established relationship, fluff, gender neutral reader, lore compliant, reader is a vtuber, reader is an xsoleil student, secret relationship/getting caught, pet names

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

🐣 Doppio Dropscythe

It's funny, because at a first glance, Doppio seems like the type of guy that takes what he wants. He's never shied away from who he is and wears his heart on his sleeve; one of the many reasons you fell for him.

But he doesn't. You collab often with him and you can tell there's something unsaid between you two, or something more underneath the surface-level entertainment. Something that goes beyond the audience's heads.

It's not quite a certainty but you're convinced you need to do something. It's just that as streamers, especially streamers that work under a corporation, you want to know exactly what to do.

You end up talking to Ver for advice. As the President of Xsoleil, he's a good listener, especially since you know how close he and Doppio are. He wouldn't dare judge you when his friend's own feelings are on the line as well as yours.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

You enter the Xsoleil student council office. As expected, Ver swivels around in a big leather office chair that makes him look more imposing than his dorky-sweet-tooth personality ever could. "Reader, it's good to see you. I liked your stream last Friday. How can I help you?"

"Nothing business. I'm here to ask about Doppio."

At the mention of his name Ver leans back in his chair, and you tense. You explain yourself: how lucky you are to work with him, how wonderful of a man he is, and how much you care about him. It spills out of you like water in a strainer. You've kept your feelings bottled up for so long, and Ver has such an accepting energy that makes you want to uncover everything you've been hiding. After all, if anyone could give you approval and advice on your feelings about Doppio, it would be the president himself.

By the time you finish, however, he seems far less surprised than you expected. "You should tell him."

"But what if-"

"Just do it." He presses his fingers between his eyes like he's alleviating a headache. "Trust me on this one. Please. Hopefully if you do so within the next week, Meloco's earnings from the betting pool will go back into our funding."

Somehow, that doesn't surprise you, and you're too happy they approve to get frustrated. You request Ver's blessing. He obliges. "Not that you need it. We're just happy there's someone out there for him." Ver's eyes glint. "Treat him right. If you don't, I'll be very disappointed. And Kotoka will start a smear campaign on Instagram."

"Duly noted, Kaichou."

"And he'd be sad."

"Can you trust me too?" You ask. Ver nods. "That's the last thing I want to do. If we're going to do this, I want to make sure I give him everything he deserves."

"Good answer." He smiles, like everything's fallen into place. "I meant what I said, you didn't need my blessing, but you definitely have it now."

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

When you finally muster up the courage to ask Doppio out, it's like he forgets to talk. In fact, he does. He sputters out happy noises that don't even make up sentences for a solid minute before he remembers how to say "yes."

Doppio makes a lot of noises even when he does know how to talk, and it might be one of the most endearing things about him. You've lovingly started calling them Doppi-noises simply because no one reacts quite like how Doppi reacts. He’s so silly and there isn’t a single word in the English language to describe how silly he is.

He even talks to inanimate objects sometimes when he's alone. It's not much different from how he talks in front of others, but his voice is lower and gentler, and when he realizes you could hear him thank his oven for preheating and the mixing bowls for not spilling ingredients, he spouts out a flustered Doppi-noise with averted eyes and red along his face.

Hanging out with your boyfriend is never boring. He brings so much energy wherever he goes that anything becomes a story, including seemingly mundane things like studying.

Whenever you go grocery shopping he somehow always remembers that one thing you mentioned a few days ago that you wanted to buy but didn't put on the list, and buys it with his own money to give to you, but he doesn't remember to get his own stuff sometimes??

The amount of times Doppio bought you a snack or found a good deal on a candy you've been craving, but forgot to buy hand soap... he usually runs by himself to the store, grabs whatever he forgot, and then comes back to your door nearly out of breath.

Doppio always makes you laugh. He's so goofy when he tries to be, and so earnest when he's serious that his charm is never lost on you. He likes to make you smile.

On the days when your lives as Xsoleil students and streamers get too busy to pay attention to one another, you tend to watch his VODs while you work, and you can pretend like it's just another domestic day where you both tend to your own chores while still enjoying shared company.

You take a fifteen-minute break to reset your brain from working so hard, and you hear Doppio on stream offhandedly mention something with a giggle, and you cackle when you realize it's an inside joke you both share. Then you notice no one in chat even pays attention to what he just said, and you laugh out loud even more. Even when you're apart, he's still thinking about you. He's loyal to a fault.

To this day Doppio still tweets his nonsensical ramblings. But sometimes you reply to them like you understand exactly what he's trying to say! You roll with his humor so well and so quickly after he tweets sometimes, that not only are your fans totally surprised you can comprehend him, but some of your other coworkers in Nijisanji have to ask you to translate what he's saying.

Confession incoming: most of the time you don't understand entirely. But when he checks Twitter and notices the reply from you, his face lights up, and rolling with it makes him bright as a sunbeam. To be fair, you get a lot of his jokes that no one else does. You know how to quip with him and he appreciates it a lot.

Doppio's energy is always infectious, but only so intense when he wants to be. He's always uniquely himself, but he can chill out, and he appreciates when he can. The D in Doppio Dropscythe stands for Downtime!

The whole chuuni thing isn't an act—that's just how he is—but sometimes it's nice when he doesn't need to constantly proclaim his position as the Duke of Discipline. Sometimes it's nice to know he can come home to his Devoted that already knows he's the greatest cheftective out there no matter what he does.

By the way, when you're alone by yourselves, he calls you his Devoted. You think it's so dramatic for the little moments and he thinks it's a bit embarrassing, but neither of you have figured out another word for "lover" that starts with a D, so, Devoted it is.

(Meanwhile you call him Doppippi. Not so chuuni, and you don’t call him that regularly—too mushy—but you swear his face gets a little more colorful whenever you call him by that name.)

It nearly drives you insane how cute Doppio can be. Here he is, one of the tallest and fittest people you know, with piercings and eyeliner and messy hair, and pointed eyes that scream punk rock energy—but he coos at any animal he sees and sticks out his tongue a little whenever he's concentrating on a game, and he turns pink as your hand brushes against the inside of his wrist.

But at the same time, he's still such a badass that you can't resist him. He likes to mess around and tease you, and he knows how to use his appeal to his advantage. It’s no secret he has a sadistic streak, either.

It’s the best of both worlds. He’s so hardcore that it makes the gap moe even more effective when he decides to be cute, and when he's soft and silly it just serves as even harder whiplash when he acts cool.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

You entered Doppio's streaming room with a glass of water and a light snack, and exchanged a few words while Doppio was typing out a before-stream message on his waiting screen.

So how did you get here, a finger wired under his collar to bring him closer, his hands eager as they clutch around the shirt on your back?

You kiss him, hungry and stupid, drawn to his magnetism. His teeth are pointed. They leave imprints on your tempted mouth, dragging magma over your thoughts, the blind come-ons that dusted over what makes sense. The stream should be starting soon but you can’t find it in yourself to resist.

Steam rises where Doppio hangs his tongue along yours, and so do his hands, large palms rubbing up your back and fingers on your shoulders. You’ve learned that he purrs when pleased; a soft, soothed groan pours from the corners of curved lips. Like an engine muffled by your connection.

You readjust, parting just enough to speak, though your words bounce back into his mouth. “You should prepare for the stream.”

“Done.” He holds you along your neck next, ready to go another round.

“Your Scythekicks are going to get lonely.”

“But I don’t wanna stop kissing you.”

“I don’t want to either,” you say. “I mean, you can always delay by fifteen.”

“I’ll send the message in chat, ‘kay?”

Even though the keyboard is just inches away, Doppio still brings you in with a loose arm around your shoulder and neck. Your forehead presses up to his cheek, not quite a hug but just as casually intimate. He removes his arm when he places a quick smooch to your temple.

By now all of Xsoleil’s vtuber talents are pros at sending delay messages and Doppio is no exception. The keys clack along in a steady cadence, until the tapping patters out, slowly and surely, with gaps of space between every keystroke.

It’s comedic like everything Doppio does whether he knows it or not. One final key sounds out before your boyfriend folds his hands over his mouth, and lets out a tiny “Huh?”

He stares at the screen. It’s strange to see him this motionless. You’re not too concerned, until you watch his head sink into his hands. “Er, Doppippi? You alright?”

Doppio buries his head a little bit further. It muffles him as he softly chants. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no.”

“What’s the matter?”

“No no no no no no no no noooo.”

"Did something happen?" You pat his head comfortingly, before looking back up at the screen, where he was typing into chat. "It usually isn't this difficult for you to send a message..."

Metamrph: HELLO??

sola: TSKR

🐣 AikosVoid: READER AND DOPPIO

AKENJIV: no way taht jsut happened imgcrying

eurelin mystic: SHIP CONFIRMED 💖💖💖

rin: WHAT DID I MISS IM LATE

~tiaramiisu~: should i give u kids some privacy lol

in-d4krness: READER HAS MAIDENS

"...Ah."

Doppio groans. You wish you could groan too, but your throat goes too dry to make a sound. The floor can't swallow you up fast enough.

"Um, I, uhhh," you say eloquently. "S-surprise?"

You've never seen the chat go this fast for so long. You can barely read individual messages before they speed away to make room for new ones.

messXed-up!: CLIPPERS GET YOUR CAMERAS

kierri: doppippi is such a cute pet name help

AKENJIV: this is crazy

sola: AAAAAAA

lunasmortas: CONGRATS 💜💜💜

A normal broom: are reader and pio dating???

You nearly choke on your spit despite the moisture leaving your mouth. "Dating?"

By now, Doppio flopped down in his chair so much that he's flat against the desk. Even though embarrassment crawls down your back, your hand rubs his head and shoulders as reassurance while you continue. "Maybe we should've announced that we were dating sooner."

At that Doppio launches straight up in his seat like a bamboo shoot. "Yeah, but I wanted to do a special stream for it, and take viewers' questions and give bad love advice and have a column name like Doppi's Dreamy Passionland and then announce that we're together at the end!" His eyes squeeze shut as he spits out his thoughts, pink washing over his cheeks the more he talks. "But-but-but what's the point of the Scythekicks knowing I have rizz if they can tell I'm not a whiz?"

You know the blood is rushing to your head too, but even now, your shoulders raise as you giggle. "You know our fans would be supportive whether you had a stream or not."

"But the contenttttt," he whines. He blinks to life with a pout and puppyish eyes, a sign that he's being dramatic for the sake of being dramatic. There's no hiding the fact that you're both mortified, but at least you know just as well as he does that he'll bounce back.

"Content later, whatever this is, now." You sheepishly look back at the screen. "Um, thanks for coming, everyone. How about, uh, Doppio and I take a thirty minute delay and we'll get back to you if the stream is still on the agenda."

You don't wait for any answers before you finish Doppio's half-written delay message, pin it to chat, and make triple-sure that the mic is muted this time.

Doppio rests his cheek on his palm, squishing his blush. "I could've done the stream, you know."

"Okay, but do you really want to after that fiasco?"

He averts his eyes, then relinquishes. "...Touché."

"Thought so," you say. "So what do you want to do now?"

"Nothing." Doppio slumps over and places his head on your shoulder, too exhausted to wrap his arms around you even though he leans into the fabric of your shirt and the body heat underneath it. "Let's just not do nothing."

So you take the initiative instead, and hold him properly, letting him sink like a weighted blanket. "You know, that was embarrassing, but if I can say? I'm glad they know we're an item."

He rests in the crook of your neck, letting you envelop him while tired hands lay on your back. "About time they figure out I'm yours." Your scent fills his nose and warms his blush, and even though he thought he was at his weakest on stream, he still finds his reservations breaking down as you let him be vulnerable, just for this moment. "But can't you be mine? Just for now."

You hug him tighter. "Always."

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊ ⁭masterpost ✧. ┊ ⁭kofi

#doppio dropscythe #doppio dropscythe x reader #doppio dropscythe headcanons #xsoleil x reader #xsoleil #nijisanji en #nijisanji x reader #doppio dropscythe fluff #xsoleil headcanons #xsoleil imagines #xsoleil fluff #4402 writes #4402 answers #shoutout to my friend for coming in clutch with an idea on how to end this. girl u don't realize the same sentence has been kicking my ass-#-for 7 months straight. quite literally.#also btw is v3r still a dorky cutie or did he change his image? haven't seen one of his solo streams in a while

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moris-auri · 4 months

Text

A Sermon on Desire

Aemond x Abeni of the Summer Isles (oc)

Summary: Vexed and nearly at his wit's end, Aemond Targaryen, in a rare moment of weakness, seeks refuge in the Sept. Will a chance encounter give him the divine answers he seeks?

Warnings; NSFW 18+, oral (m receiving), smut, alluded praise kink, overstim, teasing, edging, sexual tension, religious guilt, p in v sex

A/N; a collab w/ the lovely @bottlesandbarricades 💕💕💕, the sheer fun I had brainstorming and writing this in DM's with you is indescribable and I adore you 💕💕🥰

Word count: 6.4k

Torn.

That was the best way to describe it, the feeling of being pulled in so many different directions. Of being stretched so thin that it wore at the very threads of him until he had one choice left but to let the weight of the tension, the expectation and ultimately the guilt swallow him whole.

It was an amusing thought really, for a man, a prince to boot, one who prided himself on presenting a front of perfection to the world, to be in such a state of disarray behind closed doors. That his internal identity would be so fractured and contradictory with a crack running through his core that was as deep and jagged like the scar on his face, splitting and dividing his very soul until he strained under the weight of duty and loyalty that would always be his burden to carry.

He would never truly be able to balance the scales or quell and silence the whispers that he was not Targaryen enough; not Hightower enough that dogged his every move no matter how hard he tried. It was like trying to combine oil and water, a seemingly futile effort.

An endless cycle where one would always outbalance the other like an elixir that would forever be just out of his reach. After all, there are no chartered courses for second sons, no preset destinations but to be adrift, left to rot and rust and bob aimlessly in the harbour.

For as long as he could remember, he could always feel it, the restless pull of the tide that clung to him like an iron lock with no key fastened around his ankle, leaving him with no set route as the moorings suffocated and closed in on him, all but dooming him to drown in doubt as uncertainty began to gnaw at him, eating away at his insides like wildfire as he blindly grasped for some form of conviction and purpose.

True faith was still a mystery to him, the worship of the gods, both old and new. It had never quite come easily to him, not in the same way it did for others, like it did for his mother for example, who never seemed to doubt her unwavering belief in the Seven for even a moment, wearing her piety like it was her shield, her armour. He remembered, before he’d lost his eye, obediently trailing behind her as a child every time she had visited the Sept, kneeling beside her for hours till his knees ached, never saying a word. Never questioning, always obeying.

Then came the conflict.

As he grew and his studies progressed, his youthful past ignorance gave way to newer thoughts. With the more he learned, the more knowledge he gained and acquired, the more he struggled to reconcile the queer customs of his ancestors, whose Gods seemed far more liberal in regards to the strict doctrine of the Seven and what which was regarded as sin by the several aspects expressed within the pages of his seven-pointed star.

So he did as he'd always done, turning to books and using them as a means to escape. He’d tried to read his way out of his emotions and doubts, searching for the divine within the pages and the walls lined with books, rather than at the foot of an altar.

He studied them all. From the Old Gods of the North and the Drowned God of the Iron Islands to R’hllor of Essos and beyond, translating the writings of the Moonsingers of Braavos and the Ghiscari Graces of Slaver’s Bay and deciphering the stories of the Great Stallion of the Dothraki and the lesser-known beliefs of the Summer Isles.

He found parallels and contrasts within them all, common threads and other little details that bound them together and highlighted the differences so distinct that showed how they were truly worlds apart.

But what was the truth of it? Who had the truth of it?

He persisted nevertheless, soldiering on as he poured over volume after volume after volume of various religious texts, hunched over at of the many tables in the Keep’s library night after night, tracing the scrawled words with both eye and finger, his only source of light being the candles he had burning late into the night, blinking as he felt the exhaustion slowly set in, the words and ideas began to blur together, the lingering thought that there had to be answers, and that one way or another, he would find them.

The lingering knowledge that he knew there was a possibility that he would never truly understand remained, for there seemed to be no closure to be found, and his faith stayed unaffirmed, and instead of the enlightenment he sought, it felt like the exposure had infected his mind as the questions only seemed to multiply.

Aemond sought distraction after distraction as he chanced on books of a more sinful nature and rife with temptation. Something to take his mind off the thoughts of lost faith that swirled and uncertain guilt which lurked in the pit of his stomach. He knew he would marry one day, that he would be tied to a girl of some noble House that in the end, would bolster Aegon’s claim when he was placed on the Iron Throne. After all, that wasn't always the plan?

He knew that no matter what the other Lords loyal to his elder half-sister wanted to believe. What his father refused to see. That as harsh as it was, the truth would never change, and it was both by precedent and by his right as the firstborn son, the Iron Throne would always be his brother’s. Aemond would do his duty, as he always had, shouldering the weight of his duty with a stiff lip and an even stiffer spine, letting his reservations and his bitterness fester on his tongue like spoiled sour wine.

He had been in the Sept for hours, having slipped past the great doors after the sun had set the night before, one thought on his mind. His knees had long since grown numb and stiff from the cold as he knelt with his hands joined before him in the silence, suffering the pain with a quiet stoic dignity, alone save for the incense swirling around him in opaque wisps, silently repeating the many prayers that had been ingrained in his core by his mother and the Septons as soon as he was old enough.

For what was pain in a place like this? A place where his Mother’s gods were watching and judging his every move? That’s what he hoped anyway, what he so desperately wished to believe. Then again, if these were the true Gods, then surely they would see through this facade of false piety he performed for the sake of appearances, that they would see him play out this false mummery of deceptive devotion daily. Part of him wondered if this was his punishment, that maybe the Gods remained silent to torment him further. After all, did he, of all the people in this city, deserve absolution?

There was a feeling now as he knelt, seeing his face reflected in the polished marble. A strange, out-of-body feeling washing over him that he, with his silver hair and violet eye, had no place here.

His musings were cut off when a small noise pulled him from his thoughts, a signal that he was no longer alone. His head jerked as the faint sound of bells broke the stagnant quiet, body twisting around to see a woman standing in the centre of the Sept with her head tilted backwards. At first glance, he supposed she must hail from the Summer Isles, judging from the feathers so sought after by the ladies of the court upon her garb.

Her hair was long, swept behind her and braided and adorned with a hundred little gold beads woven throughout that chimed as she moved. Her dark eyes drifted curiously over everything, from the statues of each godhead, from the pale stone and hints of brushed brass to the votive offerings and low burning candles to the vaulted ceilings and high windows, which cast streaks of light onto the polished slabs.

Aemond groaned as he stood, the cold of the Sept’s floor little help to his aching limbs, the sound faint yet loud enough for her to hear over the distance. Her sandalled feet were almost silent, save for the low sound of her heel clicking softly on the cool stone floor as she turned around, catching his eye upon her, flashing a set of pearly teeth as she sauntered closer towards him.

“I’ve never seen a Sept before,” she explained in a hushed voice so as to not disturb the tranquillity. “It is very… dark.” Her accent was unusual to his ears, yet her common tongue was excellently spoken. “And cold,” she added, rubbing her bare upper arms as gooseflesh prickled across the skin. It was then that he noticed the other bits of gold that adorned her, the delicate bangles enclosing her wrists and the intricate bands of gold in her ears and at her throat.

Aemond noted that her dress was more suited to a warmer climate, brightly coloured and richly embroidered, it stood out vibrantly against her skin, making the Sept itself look almost plain, commonplace and colourless around her. Sleeveless and cut away at the waist, it revealed more flesh than anything he'd seen worn by even the most daring Westerosi women of high fashion. It was very much the sort of thing that his Mother would turn her nose up at in silent judgement as a moral failing and default of character, yet Aemond could not find fault in her appearance.

Whoever this stranger was, there was no doubt that she was a woman of means.

“I cannot feel the Gods here I fear.” The stranger sighed, running her ringed fingers along the smooth surface of the altar. “This place is beautiful, yet it feels closer to a crypt than it does a place of worship. So still, so silent and lacking life.”

A crypt. Aemond had never considered how truly alike they were, remembering all the times when he had wondered if he was talking to the dead, rather than the Gods his mother so cherished as he knelt at the altar with his hands joined.

"It is more open where I am from," she said, and he could hear the fondness she had for her home. "We are a freer people, ones not so restricted as you are."

Aemond realised now that he had not yet spoken a word, though that did not seem to bother the young woman, who seemed content to continue her observations without his input. As if he were one amongst the statues of the Seven, himself. A silent observer constructed of carved marble.

The opportunity to take his leave came when she turned away from him to admire the figure of the Stranger, allowing him to slip away like a ghost and leave the Lady to continue her explorations in peace.

The blistering sun, already high in the sky, beat down on the city when he stepped out from the gloom of the Sept, hit almost instantly by the dazzling sunlight and the dry air of the city. It took a moment for his eye to adjust, the pupil expanding and contracting as it grew accustomed to the brightness, his relief disturbed only by the twinge of pain behind his eyepatch.

"You are Prince Aemond Targaryen, are you not?" He stopped at the sound of his name, not having noticed her following him. His pause gave her the chance to catch up several steps behind him. "I've heard of you."

I’ve heard of you.

They were words Aemond was not fond of hearing, knowing that his reputation left much to be desired. He remained silent as a muscle ticked in his jaw, only letting out a hum of affirmation in response, squinting through the bright sunlight. Amusement danced across her face as her lips twitched, her gaze sharp as she studied him from where he stood before her. "You are the rider of the largest dragon in the realm. Or so I heard."

“Yes,” he answered stiffly, his throat feeling as dry as the dirt under his boots. He’d never been the best at small talk, for it was an art he had no natural skill in and even attempting to converse when the topic surrounded himself was a task of even greater difficulty, as well as one he fervently disliked.

"Dragons are almost all things of myth, where I come from, beasts of legend and lore," she said lightly, excitement written plainly across her fine features as she talked. “What a blessing it must be to be bonded with such a creature such as yours.”

Aemond turned to face her, grateful for the change in conversation. “I don’t believe I have caught your name?” he asked, breaking the silence.

"Abeni of the Summer Isles, my Prince."

Bold and self-assured, she offered a small bow. It was graceful, yet unsteady enough Aemond could sense it was unpracticed. “I apologize if this is incorrect. I am not quite as familiar with Westerosi greeting practices,” she laughed, causing Aemond’s mouth to twitch upward at the sound.

“You are far from home then, my Lady,” Aemond replied, clasping his hands behind him. Encased in his leathers as he was, the sun on his back was uncomfortable, beads of sweat forming at his temple and under his collar before sliding down his spine.

She let out another laugh at that, richer than the last. “I am, indeed. Though the world seems not so vast when you have a fast ship," she said as she glanced his way, "Or a dragon, I suppose.”

“Pray, what brings you to King’s Landing?” He enquired politely, courteous as always.

“A little business, a little pleasure.” Abeni smiled playfully, streams of light catching in her dark hair, as black as a raven’s wing. A breeze wafted in off the bay ruffled against her skirts, sending perfume wafting towards him, a rich scent that carried undertones of something floral that he could not name. “Alas, for now I must return to my ship,” she murmured apologetically, “It was a pleasure making your acquaintance, my Prince.”

Aemond bit the inside of his cheek as he struggled to find words, hampered once again by a stilted awkwardness.

“I could show it to you sometime,” she offered, sensing his discomfort. Her ability to read him was rather unsettling, if not intriguing. “If you wish, that is? I would never seek to presume-”

Aemond flushed, color flooding his face when she smiled, eyes alighting with delight. “Of course,” he agreed hastily, the warmth of her natural charm and charisma putting him slightly more at ease. He cleared his throat, “My Lady.”

She'd been in the city for several turns of the moon when restlessness began to set in, the itch for adventure and return to the sea growing day by day, and had taken to spending most of her time on the docks, where the stink of the city was lessened slightly by the sea air, and Aemond, more than desperate to escape the stench of death as the King grew weaker and weaker, had grasped the opportunity for what it was with both hands, taking her up on the offer.

The first time he had seen her ship, he had been more than a little in awe of it, listening with one ear as she spoke. The name, she had murmured, was a rough translation from Summer Tongue as The Wanderer in Common Tongue. He knew little of that particular ship, but had read bits of how swan ships could sail faster than galleys, but without wind to steer them, were useless, not that Aemond was well versed in the usefulness of ships and their qualities.

It was truly a marvel to behold the longer he had looked at it, the curving, swooped lines adding an elegance to its design. The red-stained varnish that coated that exterior of the vessel was constructed from set it apart from the other, duller ships, the shade of it not too dissimilar to the stones of the Red Keep itself, and it seemed more of a work of art than a functioning ship, befitted with large white sails and finely carved figureheads of various birds.

“I hear the skull of the Black Dread resides in your Keep, my Prince.”

Her voice came from his blind side, and he startled, half turning towards her when he felt her hand slide to rest in the crook of his elbow. He tilted his head down to meet her gaze, looking down his nose at her. "Abeni."

The strength of her grip on his arm was unexpected, but not surprising from someone who spent most of their time, if not all of it, at sea. “I would like to see it,” she added, looking at him expectantly. “If you would indulge me?”

The reds and oranges and yellows candles lit before the massive dragon skull are reflected in her eyes, adding more warmth to the rich hue. Aemond wondered what she was thinking, whether she was envisioning what the Conqueror’s dragon had been like before age claimed him, and Meraxes decades before, leaving Vhagar as the last living remnant of the Conquest.

His eye widened when she muttered something under her breath, the all too familiar tones of High Valyrian falling from her lips. “You speak Valyrian.” Aemond commented, failing to hide his surprise. A new light dawned in his eye as he looked at her, one that was an equal combination of enthrallment and carefully concealed curiosity.

“I speak a few languages,” she shrugged, not tearing her gaze from the skull before her. “During my studies, I found many errors in the translations by the ones you call Maesters.” Abeni explained, running her hand along the side of the skull. “It was then that I realised that if I truly wished to understand a text, it was best to do so in its original tongue.” She said, moving her fingers higher, edging closer to the rows of jagged teeth.

A kindred spirit? Aemond’s blood burned with excitement at this newly revealed common ground. Written word after all was one of his favourite pastimes. Devouring philosophies and histories in the same manner most men consumed meat and ale. “The attitude of a true scholar.” Aemond smiled subconsciously as he moved closer. “I have come across some truly shameful translations in my time. Ones that were pitiful, to say the least.”

"Oh?" This seemed to have caught her attention as she pulled her eyes from the skull to focus on him. The low glow of the candles illuminated her curious brown eyes. "What was this mistranslation?"

"It was one of the more depraved texts," Aemond responded, "Something about Valyrian Dragonlords entering sexual congress with dragons to achieve their bond.”

“Blood of the dragon, indeed,” she laughed. Her face shone with excitement at this new matter of conversation. “I, myself, am inclined to believe the bond was forged as the result of blood magic - spells and such.”

“Tis a ridiculous notion. There is no evidence for copulation with dragons,” he huffed indignantly. “After all, the people of Old Valyria would not have engaged in such…sexual immorality. They were a five thousand year old civilization who were…” he fell silent when something flashed across her face. Whatever it was, Aemond could not tell.

“When it comes to texts that have been translated by someone within a religious sect,” she kisses her teeth, “I am always suspicious of a suppression of truth to serve an agenda, my Prince.”

“I think it is always unwise to pass judgement on sexual behaviour between those willing and able. Who gets to determine what is moral and correct, but the Gods themselves?” Abeni continued, her words sharp.

“The Faith is very clear on sin. On wanton depravity and mindless fornication like we are naught but beasts,” Aemond replied, and for a moment he had surprised himself, it felt as if his mouth had moved of its own accord and his Mother’s words had come tumbling out.

Like a red rag to a bull, it only seemed to infuriate her more. The scalding realisation washed over him then, the implications of his careless words. She stiffened, crossing her arms across her chest as she raised her chin defensively. “In the Summer Isles, The arts of love are a holy skill,” she said hotly, eyes bright. “Tis not something to be ashamed of,” she snapped, too angered by what he had said to remember who she was speaking to.

“I.. I was not suggesting anything-” he babbled, fumbling for words. “I only meant that-”

"Is this not what the gods have fashioned us for? To love and be loved?" she challenged, her accent growing more with each word she spoke. "They've fashioned us in their image," she continued vehemently. "Gave us our hands to build and our voices to sing.”

“I-” struck speechless for once, the words he’d wanted to say would not come, as if they were trapped, locked within his throat by some higher being. “The faith-” he said finally, albeit weakly. “I believe that-”

“I don’t believe you,” she bit out. “I watched you in the Sept," she admitted, her vehemence fading slightly, her shoulders slumping. “You were there out of duty, not to show devotion to your Gods.”

He blinked as she raised a brow, studying him before she crooked her finger in his direction, beckoning him closer. “I want you,” she murmured quietly when he was within reach, one hand gripping his shoulder as she stretched up on her toes to brazenly brush a kiss along the ridge of his cheek. “Tonight, before I depart,” she clarified. “Let me show you what your Gods of cold marble deny you. What you deny yourself in worshipping them.”

His hands curled and flexed at his sides, brow furrowing as apprehension settled over him. “Not here." he said, feeling his skin begin to prickle uncomfortably, for though the dragon was nothing more than a time-darkened skull, Aemond still felt the weight of it behind him, heavy and oppressive as he wrapped his fingers around hers, tugging her from the room.

Within the privacy of his chambers, they were a tangle of limbs as her hands moved over him, her fingers nimbly undoing the clasps of his tunic one by one before moving onto his breeches, and lastly, his boots.

Her gaze trailed over him from head to toe when he finally stood bare before her. The expression on her face was carefully set, yet he could see the slow stirrings of something in her dark eyes. Before he could even utter a word, she had stepped even closer, her breath puffs of air against his cheeks. She trailed the tips of her fingers up his face, stopping on the raised skin just below the not so innocuous square of leather of his eyepatch. His last shield; his last defense to hide the cavity where the sapphire stone sat in the ruin of his eye.

Her eyes flicked up to his when he curled his hand around her wrist, stilling her movement. “Don’t.” He murmured, swallowing his relief when she didn’t push. He let his hand fall back to his side as he watched her, his eye following the path of her fingers as they moved over the line of his shoulders and the planes of his abdomen, each touch of her hands on some part of him cool on his scorching skin.

She stepped away suddenly, her hands reaching for the strings that held her dress together, twirling them around her finger slowly until the garment pooled at her feet. His eye stayed on her as she turned around, glancing once over her shoulder at him, one hand on the edge of his bed.

“I quite like you like this,” she murmured after he had scrambled behind her. He flushed, large patches of red dusting across the fair skin of his cheekbones and across the base of his throat, an almost unnoticeable tremor in his hands as his long fingers flexed at his sides.

“Like what?” he swallowed, feeling the shame that welled inside him at her words, potent and as rich as summer wine.

“Debauched,” she briefly settled back on her haunches to survey him, trailing her fingers over his stomach teasingly, watching with rapture as the muscles shifted under his skin. “Beautiful,” she added after a pause. She shifted suddenly, the bed dipping under her weight as she leaned forward, brushing a loose strand of his hair back.

Aemond shuddered, the sensation of her fingertips ghosting across his skin sending sparks shooting through him at her praise. “What are you doing?” he stammered the words, panting and wide-eyed. His heart began to beat a rhythm against his ribs, skin glistening in the low light of the candles from the fine sheen of sweat that coated his skin and pooled at the base of his throat.

"You are too tense," she demurred, hovering over him as she pressed him backwards, threading her fingers with his. His breath hitched as the ends of her hair brushed across his stomach, the sensation raising a wave of gooseflesh across his skin. “Relax,” she clucked her tongue, pressing a kiss to his hip.

His mind spun, any and all thoughts that had been in his head disappeared as she retreated, going lower with a singular focus. Her movements were lazy and unhurried, each slow and tormenting swipe of her tongue along the underside of his cock driving him mad.

He tried to think of something, anything, to distract himself from the sight of her between his thighs, but failed, squeezing his eye closed so tightly tears leaked from the corners, the feeling of her mouth on his cock ripping a strangled, ragged moan from his chest as his muscles spasmed, going rigid as he stiffened.

Too much. Too much.

And yet he wanted more.

For how could depravity be so beautiful? This was not like the base and corrupt like that in which Aegon indulged. Not immoral or degrading. It was exquisite pleasure as natural as breathing. A sublime thrill. Pleasure for pleasure's sake. Not born of duty, but of something else.

Something else that could not be found in any holy text.

The exchange of heat. The exchange of energy. Finding balance at last. Giving and taking. Back and forth. Achieving an elevated state of being for but a brief moment, to make you thank the Gods you were alive. A blessing in more ways than one. For what was worship if it was not warm and soft and loud and joyful? It was not meant to be cold and hard like marble beneath his knees, nor made of silence and sorrowfully murmured scripture.

Aemond jolted, squirming as she nipped at the skin over his ribs, and again when she licked a stripe down his stomach before blowing air over it. "Please," his voice cracked as a fist tightened at the base of his spine, the veins in his hands growing more pronounced as his hand slapped against the bedding, bunching the sheets in his fist. His head fell back, a silent plea building on the tip of his tongue as the warmth of the room seemed to close in on him, suffocating and unbearable.

She retreated, stretching like a cat as her fingers trailed a path over his shoulders as she leaned down to brush her mouth against his, the friction of her body sliding against his too much, yet not enough. “You are temptation in the flesh, come to torment me,” he exhaled raggedly against her skin as his hair spilled behind him, sliding over his shoulders in silver waves, so locked within a haze of lust and pleasure, he didn't know where his body ended and hers began.

“There is no shame in it," her legs tightened around his waist as she grasped at his jaw, pulling his face away from the side of her throat. "Let them hear you.” Her words slipped into a tongue foreign to him then, and though their meaning was lost to him, their sentiment transcended spoken word. It felt like flying. Like he was weightless. Like he was floating on water and untethered from all mortal bonds without a care in the world.

He mumbled her name, once, twice, three times, a desperate cry clawing at his throat at the high that swept over him with a force so violent it knocked the breath from his chest before he fell boneless and limp on his back beside her, panting as he fought to regain control of his breathing, reduced to nothing but a patchwork of trembling limbs and frayed, ragged edges.

“It’s futile asking you to stay, isn’t it?” Aemond murmured quietly. He felt her as she moved in the dark, from where the length of his arm pressed flush against hers. He could hear the small ornaments in her hair chime as she moved, the delicately worked gold warm against his skin. The bed shifted as she turned onto her side to face him, propping one arm underneath her.

She inhaled deeply, running the end of her tongue over her teeth as she mulled over her words. “Tis futile as asking you to come with me, I imagine. You have a duty here, my Prince. One that binds you to your family." She smiled sadly at him, brushing the pads of her fingers over the sharp angles of his face, tracing them down from the top of his head all the way to his jaw and back again in a soothing motion that brought forth a deep sigh as his eye fluttered closed. Aemond could hear the sorrow that she could not quite hide, an undercurrent woven just under the surface.

He did not push, instead returning his gaze back to the hangings over his bed as a fresh wave of conflict began to form inside his chest, twisting and writhing inside him. He’d always been so careful, so precise in everything that he did. He was the blood of the dragon, and yet Abeni, with her foreign gods and her foreign ways, had single handedly unwound and unravelled everything he thought he knew.

She was a maelstrom, tearing through him as she obliterated and shattered his beliefs into nothing more than jagged, broken shards. And yet in a small way she had given him a miniscule taste of the freedom that she lived and breathed with nothing to hold her back.

She was right, though. The chains of duty and familial loyalty would always be constricting, too tight and too heavy for him to shake completely, and though she had loosened their pinch, he would never truly be able to escape them. It seemed their paths were only destined to cross for the briefest moment. She must go, and he must stay. Able to coexist, but unmixable. A case of oil and water once again. Time was luck and Aemond desperately wished theirs overlapped more.

Or for longer.

Afterall, what could he truly offer Abeni? His love? Possibly, one day, maybe. But nothing more than that. He was not free to marry whomever he wished. Not free to live however he wished. He knew that if he asked her to stay, her life would be constricted to a gilded cage, a prison of red brick walls filled with secrecy, the conditions in which she would wither and fade into naught but a shell of herself.

Aemond could never, would never, do that to her, not even if she was willing. He could never watch her clip her wings in such a fashion just for the sake of his desire to possess her. Like the birds engraved upon her ship, wild and untamed like a dragon, she wasn’t something to be chained as he was, free in more ways than one, free to go wherever she wished and to do whatever she pleased, unburdened by both duty and the expectations of others.

"Let me return the favour," he rasped, pulling his hand away from her hip.

She stared up at him, desire sparking again in her dark eyes. “Oh?”

"Yes." She squirmed as his hot breath fanned over her already sensitive skin as his hands drifted higher, the backs of his knuckles brushing across the swell of her breasts. He grinned at her reaction, running his nose along her throat.

"You learn fast," she observed, her arms looping around his neck as he moved, lightly running his fingers along her ribs, squeezing at her waist. As his lips grazed over her navel, he shifted off the edge of the bed, bare knees meeting the plush softness of the rug.

“Feels oddly familiar," he smirked, nipping at the inside of her thigh just above her knee. "Though I must confess the view from the foot of the altar is rarely as remarkable as this is.”

Even in the dim candlelight, he could see the wetness glistening between her legs. He teasingly dragged his fingers through the slick that had gathered, the evidence of their earlier tryst mixed with fresh arousal. Grasping the meat of her thighs to pull her closer and grant him better access, he gently spread them, admiring the way she clenched around nothing. The sight was enough to make his cock ache with renewed want where it rested against his thigh.

His eye trained upon her face with burning intensity as his arm curled around the curve of her waist, lifting her slightly to angle her hips, responding to her gasps, guided by her low moans as he slid his finger deep within her, experimentally searching until he found the spot he sought, the one that made her back arch so nicely. He revelled in her scent and in the rise and fall of her chest as she gripped the edge of the bed.

A sight worthy of worship, of reverence.

Filled with deep satisfaction at her response, he pressed forward with new confidence, running his nose between her folds, allowing his tongue to explore with tentative licks. Aemond fought the urge to smirk as he wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked.

Trial and error. Toying with pressure and the movements of his tongue. Technique evolving with the intoxicating sighs and moans he coaxed from her mouth, watching her grind her hips, craving more pressure, more friction, bowing upwards as her moans grew louder.

Urged on by the shake of her thighs, Aemond doubled his efforts. He hissed when she tugged at his hair, encouraging him further to bolder action. Delighting in the feeling of her groans and rewarded with the juices which coated his lips and chin. “Look at me,” he panted, gently grasping Abeni’s chin between his thumb and finger. Her eyes fluttered open to meet his gaze, the dark of her pupils blown wide and hazy, unfocused with pleasure.

Gods, she was a vision. A breathless beauty in a twist of sheets.

Unable to resist, Aemond softly swiped his thumb across her bottom lip before capturing her mouth with his own again, little more than a messy meeting of teeth and tongue, his lack of skill made up tenfold by a feral, ardent hunger. He was in his element as he committed every second of this to memory, swearing he would never forget this as he gripped the swell of her hips, pleased by the way she met his thrusts.

Chasing the feeling building in his gut, Aemond pressed his forehead to hers as he leaned heavily against her as his pace began to falter, only faintly feeling the pain where her nails dug into the flesh of his shoulders. His eyepatch caught in her hair as he did, slipping free from his head before falling to the side, and his breath froze in his chest. He pulled away, the lust and desire that had been there but a moment before fading. He turned his face away, tensing further at the feel of her fingers tracing over his scar.

“Why do you hide?” The feeling of her fingers drawing circles on his arm pulled him from his thoughts as she observed his face with an expression of interest, as if she was trying to read his mind. He didn't answer, keeping the marred side in shadow. Abeni slid her hand under his chin, tightening her grasp slightly as a means to make him look at her. "Why?"

Aemond searched her face, seeing no disgust or revulsion at the sight of his wound. He swallowed and fisted the sheet, throat bobbing with the movement, his sapphire glinting as it caught the candle flame, sending spots of blue tinted light over the sheets. "I-"

He licked his lip, hand flexing atop the bedding. It was as if a stone lodged in his throat, the words he wanted to say echoing around in his head, but refusing to come out.

“I need you to make me a promise, my prince.” Aemond's eye fixed on her again, watching as she bit her lip, fighting the urge to shiver when she set her hand over his. “Promise me that you will remember to live while you’re diligently toiling away for them,” Abeni smiled, a trace of sadness lingering in it. “Life is hard enough without restricting yourself from simple pleasures. Don’t forget to indulge. Please.”

He stayed quiet, pulling her to him with one hand on her back. His breath mingled with hers as he kissed her again, softer this time, as if to pour everything he could not say into it.

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