#flat spin taglist

[internetgremlin-writes]

TAGLIST TRAUMA

Right my taglist is now too long for Flat Spin and it won't let me tag everyone lol so (if this works)

FLAT SPIN CHAPTER NINE - LINK TO READ HERE

@mrscevans @turningxstrange @mickodium @sgkophie @missxmericana @ohthemisssery @yearsof-war @bisexual-desi @rge-nini @l3kas @iamasimpingh0e @ricsaigaslec @cara11116-blog @troybolton-14 @valkyrie418  @thelightnessofthebeing @moneymasnn 

@lightsoutpierre  @coffeehurricanes @troochtvivel @chiliwhore @supersanelyromantic @ficklepicklefandoms @ssainzz @carlito55 @amorestevens @vamossainz55

@timetorace @dan3avocado @cosmic-w0lf @dr3love @desperate-and-broken @oyesmendes @aquamariene-me @fictional-addiction @xjval @eternalharry @bangtanxberm @allforkook

[beardedjoel]

smother - part iii: compliance

dark!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: the deeper you fall into his trap, the further you start to lose a sense of what you really want. 10.4k words chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI! noncon, nonconsensual touching, dubcon - reader eventually enthusiastically consents but the syndrome is stockholming so its dubcon, coercion, reader is a virgin, big juicy age gap (reader is 19, joel is late 40s), ddlg (no infantilization of reader) daddy!dom joel is coming out to play this chapter, fingering, handjob, joel's corruption kink confirmed here, joel is both mean (hurts reader briefly) and sweet once again, if these darker tags aren't your cup of tea please keep scrolling! a/n: oh we're SO back with some smut this chapter! this story has me pushing my own limits on creativity and stuff and that has really been rewarding so far, i love it and i love dark!joel. anyhoooo please enjoy my lovelies 🤍 reminder i have no taglist anymore! follow @beardedjoel-updates and turn on notifs for when i post there!

It’s okay it’s okay it’s okay…

Joel’s words echo in your ear from where they were whispered moments ago as he pressed himself into you from behind, urging you up the stairs towards his bedroom. One hand gripped firmly on your upper arm, the other on the small of your back, fingers exploring along your bare skin. You turn back once more with worried, widened eyes as you reach the top of the steps and he presses against you again, nearly pushing you. 

“I got ya, sugar” he says quietly, stopping for a moment to nuzzle into your neck before pushing you along. The new pet name he’s trying out makes you blink a few times, half liking the sweet implication. His deep breath in and out tickles your skin and you suddenly feel itchy from his facial hair scratching there. Panic claws its way up from your stomach, suddenly unsure of everything, like you’re just snapping out of the stupor you were in from Joel’s lips. 

Joel had made you feel good downstairs just moments ago, giving you that first, unforgettable kiss. It was so much more hungry and wet and passionate than you’d ever envisioned a kiss being, and it made you feel even more anxious that you truly were out of your depth here. 

You’ve managed in your fog to pad your way to Joel’s bedroom with him close behind you, his heat seeping into your skin, his body close enough to morph right into yours. He spins you immediately to face him and starts to kiss you again the moment you’re inside his bedroom. After just a moment of surprise, you fall right back into it, his tongue dancing a perfect rhythm against yours and you whimper and moan quietly. You find your body wanting to be closer closer closer to him so you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers grazing right against the curls at the base of his neck. 

Joel pulls back to smile down at you, a wicked thing as his eyes glint before he dives back in. He’s devouring you, hands all over your body as if he doesn’t know which spot to get enough of next. He’s suddenly lifting you up, large palms spread underneath your thighs as he hoists you up against him, carrying you so that you don’t have a chance to stop him from bringing you to his bed. 

That same bed you’d seen him just hours earlier, the moment that had started this fucked up chain of events you’d fallen into.

“There we go, jus’ relax,” Joel coos as he lays you down flat, your head right against the mattress. He climbs on top of you, trapping you completely before his lips smash into yours again. He’s taking now, giving you no room to push back or speak as his tongue laps into your mouth over and over, hearty groans escaping him. Sounds that a famished man makes eating his favorite meal. It makes you shudder, the way you’ve started to feel like his meal, like something he could just enjoy and toss away the scraps he leaves afterwards. 

“Christ, so fuckin’ innocent, sugar. I’ll teach you so many things to do w’that tongue,” he comments slyly after you hesitantly try to use your tongue in the same way as he was. Joel’s lips drag down your chin to your neck and start to suck on various spots, a little soft at first to test you but more hurried and rough the longer he goes. His body grinds against yours a bit and you lay back, feeling breathless. Your body burns and burns as he marks you and moves against you, your thighs aching all the way to the apex. 

You squirm a little bit, a foreign discomfort completely taking over, and Joel pulls back to look down at you. He strokes the side of your head from your forehead all the way back, looking at you with warmer eyes. 

“Gonna be okay, I’ll show ya how good you can feel…” he murmurs as his fingers start to trace along your bottom lip. “Now I’m gonna peek at a little more of ya,” he announces before sliding down your tense body, straddling your legs before hooking his fingers in your sweatpants. They’re down and shoved off your legs before you can even process it, leaving you in just a pair of plain white panties. His eyes roam up every inch of your body, white heat flickering low in your belly at the way Joel looks at you. 

“Now that’s a sight…” He smirks, sliding his hands up your thighs to rest on your hips, treating each spot he touches with a new reverence. You’ve started to tremble a little, the chilly air biting at you along with this vulnerable feeling, being so exposed. 

“Y-you like the way I look?” you ask tentatively, having to clear your throat from lack of use. Your sudden urge for validation from him strikes you hard and you silently curse yourself. 

Joel smiles at the unexpected question from you and gives you a singular nod. “‘Course I do. You’re real beautiful, sweetheart. ‘Specially like this.” His eyes land between your legs as he says the last words, licking his lips out of habit. He slinks up next to you, laying close to you and wrapping an arm around you, enveloping you in everything Joel.

“Now don’t ya feel safe here like this? Got me right here holdin’ you, gonna make it all okay.”

You just nod, swallowing the anxious lump in your throat. “I’m… just scared…” you admit, willing your cheeks to stop burning hot with all the emotions swirling around inside of you. Desire, embarrassment, discomfort, doubt - all mixing up to create a disastrous thundering of your heart inside of your chest. 

“Baby, nothin’ to be scared of…” Joel coos, kissing your shoulder and peppering them across the top of your chest as he leans over your body. 

“You’re not gonna hurt me?” you wonder aloud. You’d heard stories through the grapevine of other girls - fearful stories of pain or blood that had nearly revolted you at the time, made you almost glad there were no men paying that type of attention to you just yet. You’d always hoped they were just exaggerated tales, and you suppose you’re finally about to find out for yourself. 

“I’ll be honest, sweet girl. This might hurt a little bit. Just ‘cause it’s your first time.” His lips suckle at the swell of your breast and you squirm a little, back arching into it as your breath hitches. You try to focus back on his words as his lips move an inch and do the same motion, a gentle sucking so close to your nipple now that you nearly puff your chest in his direction, hoping his mouth will land there next. 

“But it’s such a special kind of love a man can show ya on your first time, darlin’. Get to have all of you…” he muses, his warped excitement becoming more palpable by the second, filling the room and stifling the air. “I’ll be gentle,” he adds on as he sees another spark of fear on your face. 

“You’ll be gentle…” you repeat quietly, squeezing your eyes shut in some type of silent prayer. You feel the needle-like prickle of tears behind your eyes again, begging yourself to do anything but cry right now. You dig your nails deep into your palms, squeezing your fists tight to keep the pain there instead of burning deep in your stomach where it’s settled. 

How can you be this close to all of it and still so unsure? Would you ever be sure? Or is this how everyone feels during their first time?

Joel finally pops one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking harder while his hand plays with your free nipple, rolling it between his fingers. You cry out at the unexpected sensation and wriggle your body, only to be held down a little harder by Joel. 

“Mm-mm,” he hums, “No squirmin’ away.” His mouth quickly finds a home on your breasts again as you try to still your body, not wanting to make him upset. You’d seen how he behaved when he was upset with you, and it was not something you found yourself wanting to repeat. 

”Pretty little nipples, sweetheart,” Joel says, talking at your chest while he flicks his tongue on the hard bud, unrelenting in his tasting of your sweet, supple skin. “Look at ‘em all day if I could. Half a mind to have you walk ‘round w’your tits out all the time.” He chuckles dryly before he sucks again, a little harder and you bite back the gasp that sticks in your throat at the jolt of pleasure it sends rocking through your body. “You’d do that f’me, wouldn’t you? Jus’ to get a little of ‘ol Joel’s attention?”

His words make you itchy, almost, in a strange, foreign way, one that’s hard to explain even to yourself. Like you want to crawl out of your skin, yet want to hear his words over and over, hear more of the things he sees in you, would want from you. You’d never found yourself to be someone with much to offer anyone, really, and hearing Joel already find so much to dote on is inflicting you with the most unexpected addiction you could have imagined.

You feel Joel’s fingers squeeze your chin suddenly, your eyes flicking open to glance down at him. “Answer me when I’m speakin’ to you,” Joel says softly despite the commanding tone of his words. 

“I - yes,” you answer, tripping over the single word as you push it out in a hurry. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs in response, leaning up to peck a kiss on the spot on your chin he’d been gripping. “Now you’re gonna let me make you feel good, ain’t ya? Let me treat you like a princess, show you what all the other men shoulda done but were too dumb. Chance with a pretty girl like you,” he rambles with a little scoff. “All meant f’me, anyways.” His conclusion seems to satisfy him as he grins, taking in your body with a hot gaze, lingering at the base of your stomach where his hands are itching to go. He doesn’t wait for your answer this time, sliding his hand right down, skillfully touching your soft skin the entire way.

Joel’s fingers start to trace the band of your panties, that satisfied grin still plastered on his face as he watches your reactions - your little sharp inhales and small twitches of your face as you feel him exploring your body. His eyes can’t help but drift down to watch your chest heave, pert tits on display and abused, hard nipples poking out into the air. He has a tempting thought to spend his entire night with his face buried right there, but he has more pressing matters to get to, he reminds himself as he feels his cock twitch inside his jeans. 

He suddenly sighs as he pads the outside of your underwear, his face nearly pained looking in his ecstasy. “You’re soaked f’me, sugar,” Joel says, breathless. You feel yourself flush hot, your cheeks burning, thinking this has to be something to be embarrassed about, something that shows your lack of experience and your fear.

“‘S not a bad thing,” Joel tells you quickly, seeming to read your mind yet again. He doesn’t stop, his fingers teasing the fabric that starts to seep onto his digits. “Means you like all this, means your body is tellin’ us you’re ready.”

“Oh,” you say flatly, feeling dumb for not having much better to say. “I- uh, are you going to do it now, then?”

Joel chuckles, a genuine sound ringing through the quiet room, like he’s amused. “Christ,” he breathes out, swirling his fingers along the fabric, making your hips jump as he brushes your bundle of nerves. “You’re too cute, so perfect f’me. I get to teach you everythin’.”

Your brain can barely register his words, too focused on that little spasm that had just rocked its way through your body when Joel’s fingers touched along that sensitive spot. You blink, biting your lip as his fingers tease everywhere but there, silently urging him to brush there again.

Joel huffs another laugh watching your contorted, concentrated face. “Already fucked out, can’t think about nothin’ but these fingers, huh?” he teases you, amusement lacing his voice. His fingers make a tight circle over your clothed clit and you inhale sharply through your teeth, stifling a little noise from deep in your chest. “That what you wanted? Jus’ desperate f’me to touch your clit, sugar?”

You shake your head, completely overwhelmed by the absurdity of this feeling. “I don’t - I don’t…” you murmur, trying to convince yourself for what feels like the final time that you don’t want any of this. That you don’t feel an amoral, wicked pull towards this man that you shouldn’t - this man who has treated you like prey, is far too old to be interested in you, who by all accounts should be sending you fighting and running. A man you know likely has debased plans for you that you can barely even conjure up in your own mind, but plans that you are slowly realizing you want to be a part of, are curious about. 

His care, his touch, his infatuation. They could all be yours, if you’d let him.

“Think you do… look at you, innocent little thing. Wrestlin’ w’yourself. Nothin’ wrong happening here, honey.”

You look to his dark eyes, seeking guidance, reassurance. “I-it’s not? I feel so…” You can’t put any of it into words for him, how intense the feeling is, how badly your body is craving something that you don’t know anything about yet. How dirty you feel for wanting it with him.

He shakes his head slowly to try and convince you. “Mm-mm. I feel it too, sugar. ‘S jus’ attraction, desire. Makes you burn all hot in here, don’t it?” he asks, cupping your aching, wet cunt through your panties. You gasp at the fullness of his hand against your throbbing folds while you nod fervently, taking in a deep breath to steady yourself as his fingers curl and then drag up your clothed slit. Your head arches back a little and you let out a tiny mewling sound through closed lips. Your mind muddles instantly, eyes rolling back as he repeats the motion, this time letting his fingers trail off to the edge of your panties, teasing the hem there.

“Thas’ it, let yourself enjoy it, princess. Let daddy take care of you.”

He’s barely controlling himself now, his breath heavy against your neck as he starts to move with more urgency, teeth scraping against your delicate skin. Your brow furrows quickly at the new reference to himself but his teeth sink into your flesh with a soft nip, pulling your mind back to the present. 

“You’re gonna like this,” he murmurs quietly into your skin as his fingers fiddle one final time at your waistband before wiggling under, diving deep and sliding his fingers right into your wet slit. 

“Oh… m-my, g-“ you whimper as quietly as you can when he slips them back and forth a few times, brushing your clit on each one, gathering up a lewd amount of slickness on his fingers. He spreads your wet folds delicately, feeling his way around almost respectfully, desperate breaths puffing out of his nose.

“Poor baby… soakin’ yourself this whole time… never even knowin’ how good you could feel, how much y’need a cock in here,” Joel says, sounding truly devastated for you. His brazen language makes your head spin and your cheeks flourish with warmth. And then it finally happens - his fingers swirl over your clit again. 

You cry out loud this time, unable to hold it back when his circling tightens and he puts more pressure down on the aching little bud. The heat from between your legs starts to spread to your lower belly, pulling taut and warm as it settles there.

“Oh…” you murmur, back arching when Joel adds a second finger to the motion. Your legs shake a little as they lay flat on the bed, knees starting to bend of their own volition to help your hips start to wriggle closer to his touch. You stutter out another moan when his fingers press harder, the feeling shooting what feels like sparks through your entire bloodstream, straight to your head. You’re foggy, thoughts clouded over as everything else starts to fade out. Your mind pinpoints on Joel’s touch, practically seeing just his fingers in your mind's eye and the sensation that’s quickly boiling in your core, tightening with each movement he makes. 

“Yeah, feelin’ so good ain’t you princess?” Joel coos with a grin, making his movements a little faster. “First one to touch this little clit, first one to see ya like this, writhin’ around like an animal in heat. God…” He marvels at your microexpressions, the contortions of your body, the way he can see you’re holding back, not wanting to seem too eager. 

“Let go, sweetheart. Be loud f’me. Be loud f’daddy,” Joel urges you, eyes practically bugging out of his head as he sees you start to sheen a little with sweat, your body hot and tingling next to him. He smirks as he slips a finger down, eliciting a desperate cry from you when it leaves your clit to tease your entrance. 

“D-daddy…” you start, meaning it as more of a question, wanting to understand what he’s getting at, but it trails off into a pathetic little cry when the tip of his index finger pushes into you unexpectedly.

Joel has died and gone to heaven, if his expression is any indication as he breathes out shakily, hardly in control of his actions at this point. “Thas’ right, thas’ right, princess. Call out f’me while I’m inside ya.”

“F-fuck,” you let slip out. “Y-you’re inside?” you ask him in slight disbelief that it’s really happening. You go completely breathless as he starts to play with your clit again, using his thumb to flick urgently there while he lets his finger settle inside of you. 

Joel wriggles his finger deeper, burying his index finger almost to the hilt as he nods, turning your head with his free hand to make sure you’re looking at him. 

“Naughty little thing, cursin’ cause daddy made you feel that good.” He smirks, letting you sweat it out for another moment before answering your question in a softer voice, almost sweet and caring. “‘M inside, sugar. Feels so fuckin’ good, too. Perfect, tight little hole all f’me.”

You’ve become a trembling mess, the fullness from Joel’s finger overwhelming you. The tingling warmth spreads to your belly from where he starts to move his finger, slowly at first.

“Yeah, there we go, takin’ me so well,” Joel mumbles as you relax around his finger, pressing in and out in sloppier motions. You gasp when his finger presses in to the hilt, then he repeats it over and over, filling you up. Your hips twitch and grind a little into him, into the feeling of his thumb flicking carefully at your clit.

“O-oh…” you whimper out, gushes of warmth coating Joel’s finger, running down onto his hand. He grunts an approving noise as he feels the way your body pours out slickness for him. This is pure heaven, he concludes to himself, nothing in the world could be sweeter than the feeling of taking this from you and getting so much in return.

“Christ, you are perfect,” he says near your ear. “This okay, princess?”

You just give him a nod, barely able to speak as your entire body starts to feel warmer and drawn tight, Joel’s finger on your clit moving at an achingly slow pace.

“Gonna feel somethin’ for just a second, mkay?” he says quietly, not bothering to clue you in any further before retreating his index finger and snuggling his middle finger right next to it, inserting them both into your weeping entrance.

Joel breathes a sigh, the air fanning across your bare chest. “Mmm, so tight, baby. Thas’ it, just focus right on me,” he says as your eyes open wide and look right into his. You feel the burn from his second finger, so thick and wide in comparison, your body adjusting to the new sensation.

“J-joel…” you whimper quietly when he starts to move them with more force, your brow furrowing with the strange mixture of pain and pleasure. 

“Y’need to relax, c’mon,” he urges, using his free hand to rub gentle circles on your shoulder. “Promise we’ll get you feelin’ real good, sweetheart. We gotta get you all stretched out to fit all ‘f me.” He rubs a soothing hand on your shoulder with his free one, shushing you when he sees the look of worry on your face. 

“Jus’ enjoy it.”

His words echo in your mind as you start to fully embrace all the sensations. You feel a burning heat in your core start to radiate, pulling tight, so tight it’s nearly maddening before your hips shift the tiniest bit and find your release, the tightness completely snapping from one moment to the next. 

“Oh my god… oh my god… oh…” you cry out, feeling yourself starting to shake, your entire body ravaged by oncoming waves and waves of pleasure. 

“Look at me when you come, princess,” Joel says sternly as he grasps your face, turning your head in his direction. You slowly creep your eyes open and see his dark pools full of a sense of smugness and wonder. “God, fuck, that’s good, keep comin’ f’me,” he breathes out, feeling your slick pouring out onto his hand as you come. 

You’ve never felt so amazing in your entire life, the only thought you can think is more more more as you moan loudly, any shame in doing so long gone when you feel this incredible. White heat envelops you, sending your vision speckled and your back arching off the bed completely, your hips spasming down to where Joel sloppily yet expertly fucks you with his fingers. You grip at the sheets with one hand, Joel’s shirt with the other, squeezing them both to try to hang on to reality. 

“Good girl, good little girl… god you’re pretty when you come,” Joel says, talking you through it. His fingers are merciless until the last second, when your hips drop to the bed with a sudden thud, your entire body limp, only your hips jumping with a need to get away from the overstimulation. 

“Oh, that was a big one, now, wasn’t it?” Joel asks softly, pulling his hand from between your legs and resting it on your thigh, his other still soothing on your cheek. Your eyes flutter and roll back as you catch your breath, trying to wrap your mind around what just happened. 

“Uh-huh…” you murmur dazedly, your hand still resting on Joel’s chest after letting go of his shirt. 

Joel peppers your face with soft, loving kisses, finally reaching your lips and kissing you deeper. You’re lost, somewhere in another dimension completely, kissing him back without any knowledge of doing so. The warmth of his lips starts to bring you back and you flutter your eyes open as he pulls back. 

“Y’did real good. How’d that feel, huh, sugar?” Joel inquires, looking down at you expectantly. 

“S-so… good… I can’t explain…”

“Mhm, I know what ya mean,” he replies sweetly, “Hard to explain, jus’ all that pleasure. Loved makin’ you feel that good, honey.” Joel leans in to kiss your cheek, using his hand to tilt you towards him and plants another kiss on your lips. You moan quietly, body overstimulated and exhausted, the now empty space between your legs aching and tingling for him.

You roll your head back onto the pillow, unable to respond. Joel places a hand over the one of yours that rests on his chest and rubs his thumb over the back. 

“Gonna make you feel like that all the time,” he says with an oddly devoted, sweet tone, leaning down and surprising you with another kiss. Your eyes open again and he’s looking at you with that look again. “So much more we could do,” he adds, shifting his smile into something more hungry again. 

“Wh-“ you start to ask, and Joel’s finger touches your lip gently. You can taste the remnants of yourself on it - such a strange, foreign flavor that makes you smack your lips a little. Joel’s amusement at your response shows quickly on his face as he traces his finger along your lips with a soft smile.

He starts to sit up and lean back on the bed, sending your hand dropping from his chest, a quick bounce on the mattress before it stills. His hands reach to his waist, fingers working at his belt. You stare, eyes transfixed on his every move as your heart starts to beat more quickly, anxiety flooding your system as you toil over what comes next. 

“Ain’t done with you yet, sweet girl,” he mumbles, belt now hanging loose and open while he palms himself outside of his jeans. Your mind races at the prospect of seeing what you saw from afar this morning just this much closer. Joel reads your deer in the headlights expression and smirks, head cocked as he looks down at you, sitting next to you on the bed, knees pushed into the mattress. 

You swallow hard, the apparent lump sliding down your throat and it makes your cheeks burn how openly nervous you are. Joel strokes a hand gently down the side of your head before pushing off the mattress and standing next to the edge of the bed. 

“Time f’you to see a real man, in all his glory,” Joel says, teasingly, like he knows something you don’t. And he does, you suppose, know a lot of things that you don’t in this regard.

He starts to peel off his jeans, letting them pool by his ankles, belt buckle clanging all the way down before he steps out of them. He has on a pair of dark boxer briefs, hard to tell if they’re black or navy in the fading evening light of his bedroom. All you can focus on is the apparent bulge there, knowing what’s underneath, that shockingly large part of him he’d stroked earlier because of you.

He wastes little time pulling his shirt over his head, revealing his hulking, muscular form, soft yet hard, toned and strong but fleshy and dusted with salt and pepper curls of hair, leading right down to the waistband of his briefs.

Your eyes flick from between his thighs to his face, searching his eyes for any kind of assurance, any kind of assistance in how to act, what to do next. He just remains as cocky as ever, hand grazing the outside of the tented fabric as he stares down at you with hooded eyes.

“You wanna see it, babygirl? Wanna touch daddy’s cock?” He rubs himself a little faster, a tiny growl suppressed in his chest while he awaits your answer. “Know you do, know you’re such a curious girl.”

You unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth and nod, swallowing hard again. “Y-yes, I want to see,” you finally say, meek and shaky, shrinking in on yourself like you’re preparing for a bomb to go off, afraid of what you’re about to witness. In what feels like a flash, his briefs are down on the ground, Joel’s cock springing free almost violently as it slaps against him. You stare for a moment, taking in the way it juts out from his body - rock hard, shiny pink head dripping and veins running along the length of him. You feel speechless, unsure if there’s something you’re supposed to say when a man shows you his penis.

“C’mon a little closer, princess, you can look, s’okay,” Joel says, calm and quiet. “Crawl over here.”

You hesitate a moment and push yourself up on the bed to get on your hands and knees. While it’s not a far distance, just a few paces and you’re to the side of the bed where Joel stands, he revels in the sight of you doing it, his lip caught between his teeth as he gently plays with himself. 

“Pretty girl,” Joel murmurs when you reach him, putting his hand along the back of your head and stroking once before holding on to keep you in a position to stare directly at his cock. It’s threateningly large right in your face like this, and you feel yourself shudder a bit as you watch Joel’s free hand gently touching all along the length. 

“Now, I want y’to touch it, can you do that, sweetheart?”

You hand hovers, your teeth sinking into the inside of your cheek as you peer at his member with a lack of confidence. 

“C’mon now,” Joel says, grabbing your wrist, moving your stalled, floating hand to his cock, settling your fingers on the head. Your stomach turns with the strangeness of all of this - the way you had given in to him and now felt like it was impossible to go back. Joel is gently nudging your hand, trying to urge you to move, and it brings you back to the present moment where you blink hard and focus on him again. 

“Sh-should I do this…?” you ask quietly, letting your fingers graze the head in a swirling motion, unintentionally picking up the beads of precum leaking out and you nearly pull back. Joel chuckles at your brief reaction to the liquid, then nods. 

“That’s good, real nice,” he says softly. “Touch it all over now, no need to be shy with me, okay?”

You press your lips together, unable to even look him in the eye due to your strange combination of being flustered and mortified. You can only find yourself staying focused on what you’re doing with your hands, making sure it’s right for him.

“What did I say about answerin’ me when I’m speaking to you?” Joel says a moment later, tugging on your hair to lift your gaze up to his. You wince, wishing he’d be a little more gentle with your scalp, and he sees your expression and only tightens his grip.

“I-I’m s-sorry. Um…” you take a deep breath, trying to calm your quaking hands. “Like this?” you ask him, using your fingertips to glide down the length of his cock, all the way to the base where a patch of thick curls sits. That seems to please him, a kinder smile on his face now when he nods in approval.

“Lean forward and spit right on there f’me,” he says, looking down at you and gesturing between his thighs. “Need to get it nice and wet f’daddy to feel good, okay?”

Your mouth hangs open in a stunted silence, your body unable to move without his assistance right now as he drags your hand along his dry cock. He grunts in exasperation before tugging back on your haIr again, forcing your face into a contorted wince.

“I don’t wanna hurt you, you know that, right? Y’jus’ need a firm hand, baby, helpin’ you figure all this stuff out. So why don’t ya go on ahead and do as I say, sweetheart, hm? It’d make me real happy.” His words are silken, laced with his country accent and that hidden malice he carries within him, every step, every word showing it to you, drawing you in further.

You bow your head a little as he loosens his grip, letting you decide for yourself now. “I-I’m sorry, you’re right, I- uh, d-do need your help,” you whine obediently, feeling your scalp starting to throb a tiny bit. 

Joel scratches at your head for a moment, watching you lean down closer to his cock. “Good girl, there ya go.” You can hear him smirking as you tentatively spit on his cock, watching the saliva settled on the top before dripping around the side. “Don’t be afraid, want ya to drool on it, baby, don’t worry ‘bout gettin’ messy.” He nudges your head forward and you breathe out a shaky breath before trying to desperately gather up any amount of saliva your drying mouth will offer you. You open your mouth, letting your tongue hang down before forcing yourself to spit watching more dribble onto the center of his cock.

“Fuck,” Joel grits through his teeth, feeling the sudden warm wetness of your saliva on him. “Thas’ it - f-fuck, now wrap your hand ‘round it,” he commands urgently, immediately negating any need for the words by wrapping his own hand more firmly around yours, sending your fingers curling around his length. 

“Look at that, sugar, barely even fit that little hand around me,” he says with an arrogant grin, starting to move your hand in strokes, gathering up all the slickness you’d just provided. The sound starts to reverberate through the room, that same noise you’d heard outside his door earlier.

You’re starting to feel like merely a passenger as he jerks on himself quicker using your hand, sitting in front of him almost completely naked, the real version of what he was picturing this morning as he pleasured himself. Joel smiles even more at the fantasy coming to life right before his eyes, your little panties the only thing he has left to remove before he’s seen all of you. And by god, does he want to see all of you. See what he has no doubt looks just as perfect as it felt around his fingers while he buried them inside of you.

“Take ‘em off,” Joel says as the thought pops into his head, staring down between your legs, his eyes practically glimmering.

“D-do I have to…?” you stammer out, suddenly wishing you could put back on every piece of clothing that’s now scattered between here and the kitchen downstairs.

“Now c’mon darlin’,” Joel snips, frowning a little. His hand continues to jerk yours along a little more aggressively as his breathing picks up. “Jus’ want to see your pretty body, baby girl, thas’ all. It’ll help me feel extra good right here,” he says, squeezing your hand as it moves along his cock.

You reach down and start pulling on the waistband of your panties, a little awkwardly as Joel holds your other hand hostage. You shimmy them down and sit closer to the edge of the bed, where Joel suddenly wraps his arm around your back and pulls you to the edge, leaving your legs dangling off on either side of his knees.

Joel’s hand grips at the side of your face, cupping your cheek less than delicately as he pants out, your hand moving quicker and quicker along his cock. You feel a rush of heat in your body similar to when Joel had been touching you earlier. That arousal cropping up low and deep in your belly, that feeling you want to ignore when it comes to Joel. But looking at him - sheening with sweat, his enticingly soft yet muscular belly right in your face, his face turning a shade more red with effort as he puffs out his quick breaths has you nearly squirming where you sit. It’s intimate, it’s sexual, you realize, something he’s giving to you just as much as you are him. 

“Fuck,” he spits out, tugging your hand off his cock and pushing you down with a swift shove to your chest. You fall back to the bed, nearly emotionally wounded when you notice his eyes still raking all over your body. 

“Lemme jus’ look at ya, fuck, put your legs up, show me that pretty cunt,” he demands, his hand flying back to his cock to continue stroking it as you prop your legs up on the bed, giving him the view he’s asking for. He groans loudly, deep and guttural as his eyes are glued to your glistening sex, a new slickness dripping out from the way he’s looking at you. You’ve never felt sexy before, desired, and even though the circumstances are never what you’d envisioned, you’re completely enamored with the feeling of it. Already craving more of it.

“Can’t wait to sink my cock into that tight little pussy,” he murmurs to himself, but you feel your entire body tensing at his words, taken by surprise that it might be happening right now.

Joel’s mouth curls in that devious but handsome way to the side as he sees your change in demeanor. “Shh, shh, not yet, sweetheart. Wanna keep you pure jus’ a little bit longer f’me,” he breathes out with a wink in your direction. 

Less controlled smacks of his fist against his skin fill the air of the room. You’re practically holding your breath, watching everything unfold as his cock throbs and twitches in his hold. He just watches your innocent, fascinated expressions move over your face and continues smirking down at you. 

“One thing at a time for my princess. Take you piece by piece, won’t I?” He seems so pleased to be the decider here, to say what you get, and don’t get. How he controls how he uses your body. It makes his cock throb achingly in his hand, just the thought of it alone. His to use. His to show all the pleasure. His to keep. 

He watches your lips, waiting for them to move, to answer his question. “Y-yes…” you whisper meekly. Joel groans at your compliance and his eyes flutter for a moment. He’s so close now. You understand that same feeling that had come over you for the first time not very long ago. 

“Yeah, princess, daddy’s gonna come all over you now. Tell me, say it. Say you want daddy to come all over you.” He breathes heavily, little groaning whimpers as he goes harder, his cock angry and red from the way he’s tugging on it. “Say it,” Joel booms out, and you start at the intensity of his voice, curling in on yourself for a moment. 

“I- I want daddy to come o-on me… a-all over me,” you say, hoping it’s loud enough for him to hear, that you won’t have to repeat it again. The name slides awkwardly off your tongue, wishing to understand it, make sense of why it made your core tingle for just a moment when you said the words. 

“God, bet you do, yes, fuck, daddy’s gonna come now, paint that perfect body with it,” Joel punches out before his hips stutter forward, his hand giving a few jerks as he starts to come hard, the white stickiness splattering onto you - your stomach, your breasts, even where your legs lay open for him to look at as his own personal little show. He heaves as the final bits spill out and he leans his head back, sighing. 

“God damn, so good, baby girl. You did amazing,” he coos, climbing onto the bed next to you. He sits while you lay motionless, nearly stunned from what you’d witnessed, the constant reminder of it in the form of his warm liquid dripping along your body. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says more softly, picking up your discarded panties and carefully swiping his mess off of you with them, curling his body close to yours. 

“That’s better,” he announces, holding the white cotton up to inspect the way his cum stains them now with a wry smirk. He sets them aside on his nightstand before his hands slip underneath your back and your legs to cradle you, pulling you into his lap. He sits back on the bed, nestling the both of you against the headboard as he settles you across his thighs. “This okay?” he asks, stroking your back. 

“Mhm.” You nod quietly and thread an arm around his torso, intertwined under where his arm reaches up to meet you. The movement comes naturally, more than you’d care to admit, wanting to feel loved and cared for right now. You hate the tears that sting your eyes again, like you’re not strong enough to handle something like this, something that adults do. 

“S-sorry,” you say, swiping your eyes quickly and trying to avoid any tears falling. 

“Shh, don’t be sorry. Y’did such a good job, y’know that? Normal to get emotional if it’s your first time.”

You chew on your lip and then look up at Joel, his features already strangely comforting and familiar. The speckled, tan skin that you want to touch more of, his dark lashes that fall over his eyes when he looks down at you like this.

“B-but it wasn’t… my first time…”

“Sure it was. First time doin’ somethin’ like that. It’s a lot for a sweet girl like you. But you’ll feel good again, just like tonight, I promise ya that.”

You nod, slightly more encouraged by Joel’s words as you relax a little more into his embrace. “That… release… it’s an orgasm, right?” You nearly choke on the words, shame flooding you for even having to ask. 

Joel blows out a teasing breath through his nostrils. “God damn, nobody out there teachin’ you anythin’, were they?” He ruffles the back of your head playfully. “Yes, darlin’ that was an orgasm, what both of us experienced.”

You crack a small smile at his teasing and brush your fingers along where they’re resting along his back. “People acted like it was… bad to teach about. My parents, people that looked after me, all of them.” You pause, feeling your face warm with the embarrassment of sharing so much “S-sorry I’m so clueless…”

“No, honey, not clueless. You’re learnin’, and I wanna be the one to teach you everythin’. It…” he inhales deeply, and you see that hunger in his eyes when you glance his way. “It excites me.”

“It does?”

“It’s so sexy, takin’ care of you and lettin’ you learn w’me. You like bein’ sexy, don’t you?” Joel teases, bringing a hand to your chin, tilting it just slightly. Your lips look the most inviting they have as they curve into the most delicate smile, one finally full of lust and confidence. 

“I do…” you murmur in response, averting your eyes as you flush yet again. Your body feels warm, bare and pressed against Joel’s naked flesh, his words instantly having an effect on you. 

“An’ you should,” Joel says, leaning forward to press his lips to your neck, smattering kisses down the length of it. “Already got me wrapped around your little finger.”

His lips tickle you as his facial hair brushes along you in his fast movements, and you nearly giggle, holding back at the last moment, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of hearing your laugh just yet. You sigh contentedly and lean back into him, fighting a sudden yawn.

“You all tired out?” Joel asks quietly, lips pressed close to your ear. You shiver at the vibrations of his rich timbre and inadvertently snuggle a little closer as goosebumps creep along your skin. Joel rubs your back in response, pulling you in tighter.

You nod, mumbling out a yes and Joel responds by gently rolling you over onto the bed, laying your head on the pillow. He’s curled up to you in an instant, arm thrown over your chest all the way to your arm on the other side, letting his fingers rub there.

“You get some rest, it’s been a big day, huh?”

“It has…” you mumble in reply, hesitantly resting your hand on his arm that covers your chest. It starts to feel like some semblance of normal, cuddling with Joel. You’d never experienced something like this, this closeness. 

“G’night,” he mumbles into your skin, kissing it one more time before you notice him going more slack, starting to settle into that dazed, half sleepy state. You look over at him, blinking slowly with a deep tiredness, just watching his face in this calm, non-threatening state. He looks handsome like this, a little vulnerable and sweet, someone you could pretend is holding you right now just so you feel taken care of and cared for. You wish you could read him, trace the weathered lines on his face and find out just who he really is, which version of the many different Joel’s he’s shown you he truly is.

You fall asleep trying to figure it out.

Your eyes flutter open, finding the room still dark. You imagine it has only been a few hours since you fell asleep, but you woke with your stomach aching, hunger tearing through you. You realize the only thing you’ve eaten is the bread and cheese Joel fed you, and it makes your stomach growl again.

Joel has mostly rolled off of you, just an errant hand laid across your upper arm as he sleeps, body sprawled out on the bed. You lay as still as can be for a few moments, checking just how deep he’s sleeping before you slip out of bed, on the prowl for a midnight snack. You don’t think Joel would mind, would he? He’d fed you earlier, promised that part of what he’d do to help you here is to share his provisions with you, keep you full. You spot a knit blanket on the back of a wooden chair in the corner of the bedroom and throw it around your shoulders, shivering as you snuggle your naked body underneath it and relish in the warmth.

It’s dark in the kitchen, but you don’t dare flick on the light, happy to scavenge by way of the small glow from the open refrigerator. You end up tearing off some more of the bread, careful to not take too much from Joel’s provisions. Your eyes drift around the room as you chew happily, taking it in now that you’re here alone, gaze free to roam without any questions from Joel. You stop when you land on your backpack, slumped near the door, and your boots, tucked right where you’d left them when you’d arrived. How was that only yesterday? It feels like an entire lifetime has passed since then. Like you’re a different person than when you’d first entered the threshold of that door, shaking and terrified, barely hanging on. Now… you still weren’t sure where you landed, but you were certainly changed.

Your threadbare coat hangs where Joel must have decided to leave it when you’d taken your shower. All of your things calling out to you, screaming red, like a test that he’d left for you. To test your loyalty, to see your obedience. Everything you’d need to disappear from this cabin, all in one little space. Your heart starts to race, your mouth dry as the bread seems to go sour on your tongue. 

You could leave right now, if you wanted. Take your chances. Let fate decide if you’d starve on your own or lead you to a new community - those people in Jackson - who might take care of you. You could learn. You were capable of survival, you knew you were. You could learn to hunt and fish and start fires on your own, to live off the land and not be scared of the hidden horrors of the world. Yes, you could leave right now, escape the uncertainty of Joel’s moods and promises, and learn.

You bite your lip anxiously, eyes in a trance as you stare at your backpack, with it holding the memories of those two weeks on your own where you fought and scraped by and nearly froze to death. You blink and turn your head back towards the fridge. Maybe you aren’t cut out for life on the road. Maybe you’re too soft for it. And maybe some more of that sheep’s cheese doesn’t sound so bad right now.

You open the fridge back up, peering inside to look for that little wrapped package you’d seen Joel pull from earlier. You nearly jump out of your skin when Joel’s voice cuts into the silent room - you’d been too absorbed in your own thoughts to even hear the creak of the old floorboards announcing his movements upstairs.

“The hell’re you doin?” his voice booms out in that controlled, stern tone that makes you want to listen. You whip your head around from where you’re crouched at the fridge, rummaging through it and see Joel stepping off the bottom of the staircase and into the main room. He hasn’t bothered to put anything on, like he was in a rush to see if you were down here, if you’d snuck off in the night. His naked body moves powerfully, muscles on display, and yet all you can focus on is what’s between his legs - his soft cock swinging almost tauntingly as he approaches you with such an angry aura. 

“I - I was hungry… starving. I thought I’d -“ you start, teeth clicking together in a fearful grimace as he cuts you off. 

“Yeah? Sure you’re not tryna run off again? Ransack my fridge and leave?” He’s already questioning you heatedly, reaching where you stand and slamming the fridge shut behind you and pressing you close to the door. 

You scramble in your mind to find the words to make him understand, shrinking in, afraid of what he’s capable of doing to you. “Wh - no, no I was… look at me, I have nothing on, I wouldn’t be running out like this, right?” You gesture down to your body, only draped in the small knit blanket. 

“Poor excuse, darlin’,” he sneers, looking down at you. The moonlight spilling in through the kitchen window casts menacing shadows across his rugged face. He narrows his eyes as he waits for you to further dig yourself out of this hole. 

“I - I swear it, I haven’t eaten much, remember? J-just that bread and cheese, and I woke up hungry.” You plead and see him soften just enough to want to let up a little bit, but his face hardens again at the last second. You realize he’s scared, the hint of it behind his wild eyes showing for just a moment. He’d really run down here thinking he’d find you gone for good and that had scared him, an emotion you wouldn’t have expected from Joel. He has weaknesses and fears after all. 

He steps a little closer and you can feel his cock, now half hard pressing between your legs. You fight the urge to wince, afraid he’s about to press it further.

“Hard to believe w’the way you were runnin’ off earlier. Not desperate to get away from me anymore now that I fucked that little pussy so good w’my fingers? Didn’t jus’ get what you want from me and wanna split?” You can tell he doesn’t even fully believe what he’s saying, he just wants to taunt you, remind you that he’s more powerful, that he holds all of the cards. He grips your cheeks, squishing them together and holding your head steady, inspecting you for another moment, as if he can get the truth out of you just by reading your face. His head leans forward and he holds you in place as he sucks on your neck, pulling your skin between his lips harder and harder. He lets go and keeps himself nuzzled tight to your neck as he speaks.

“Y’don’t do anythin’ like this again without wakin’ me up.” He squeezes your cheeks a little harder before releasing it, keeping his face buried against your neck. “‘S my job to take care of you, remember? Don’t wanna catch you like this again, yeah?”

“Y-yes,” you stutter, breathing a sigh of relief. One that’s short lived when Joel pulls another patch of skin into his mouth, using his teeth this time - you feel the slight nibble as he scrapes his teeth on your soft skin and you whimper quietly when it starts to hurt. 

“J-joel…” you whine, shifting uncomfortably, the heat of his body so close making you squirm and break out in a sweat.

“No,” he cuts you off, wrapping a hand around your arm and another around your waist, holding you in place. “If you’re here,” he says, stopping to flick his tongue along his recent mark, “You’re gonna refer to me as a few special names goin’ forward, okay? Teach you a little respect towards me.”

“I- I respect you,” you blurt out desperately, your eyes wide and searching the room for anything that might help you get out of this. Joel’s hold is absolute, as you’ve learned several times now. You’re suddenly unsure once again, his frightening behavior reminding you just who you’re living with now. You don’t dare to call him a monster, even in your thoughts, because that would be admitting what you’ve been desperately avoiding. You’re attracted to a monster, inexplicably fixated by him, lured in with his sweet offerings and chance at a new life. Worst of all, you’ve already given yourself over to him, let him drag you further into his clutches.

“You’ve been s-so kind and helpful, you fed me, everything…” you add on in a soft lilt, hoping he takes mercy on you.

He stays silent for a moment, his lips hovering above your skin, only his hot breath fanning across it. “Then show it,” he says in a deep rumble. “You’re gonna call me daddy, sweetheart. ‘Cause I’m here to take care of you. And a good girl always listens to her daddy, doesn’t she?”

He sucks again. Harder this time, the burn and sting shooting out from where he abuses your delicate skin. 

“She does…” you choke out.

“That’s right. I’m gonna be your everything, sweetheart. Your daddy, your sir, your master. And when you address me, you’ll address me as such, yeah? Show that you’re mine… show me respect.”

“M-mhm…” you whimper, swallowing with your lips pressed tightly together, the pain of him sucking on your neck after each little speech becoming more and more unbearable. It hurts, but something about the way he’s speaking, the concept of his domination over you, the way you can tell it comes from some completely twisted place of care, sends a warm skittering down your spine. Maybe you’re just as sick as he is if any part of you enjoys this, even the small, deeply hidden bit that seems to be growing with each encounter you have with Joel.

“And when I’m done w’you here tonight,” he murmurs, bringing up a hand to trace his fingers gently along your quickly bruising skin, “You won’t be able to see yourself in the mirror without knowin’ who you belong to. Show everyone who dares lay eyes on my girl that I’ve got you, that I’m the one keepin’ you safe and fed and fucked.”

“Yes… you are…” you whimper out complicitly into a soft cry when he bites your neck again, his hot mouth attaching like his life depends on it. 

“So you’re gonna be a good girl, yeah? Behave and listen to daddy’s rules?” He speaks breathlessly, his cock fully hard as he feels the power coursing through his veins, the evidence of it pressing firmly against your thighs. He feels you nod against where he rests his lips, but it’s not enough. 

“Say it, princess. Say ‘I’m a good girl, and I’ll behave and listen to daddy’s rules.’”

You gasp as his teeth sink into your flesh, as hard as they’ve gone yet, feeling nearly like they may have drawn blood. “I- I-“ you breathe out, clutching at his arm, digging your nails in. It only spurs him on, his lips dragging back just to suck the spot relentlessly. It brings tears to your eyes immediately, your mind only focused on the pain now. 

“Say. It.” Joel’s voice cuts through and your eyes flash open after a few tears roll down your cheeks. 

“I’m a good girl…” you whimper, voice cutting out into another cry as he assaults another spot on your neck.

“And?”

“I’m a good girl a-and I’ll behave and l-listen to daddy’s rules…” Your breath whooshes out as he stops, relief flooding your body when he places a light kiss on one of the sore, bruised spots. A few tears roll down your cheeks, spilling over from the plethora of them along your lower lids.

“Mmm, good girl,” he says more gently, pulling back to look over your face. He frowns, and it nearly startles you to see him have a look that isn’t that one of sick satisfaction that he’s worn so often. 

“When you’re daddy’s girl, you’re gonna be so well taken care of, I promise ya. I know you’re scared, and it ain’t easy when I’m bein’ so firm w’you. Just want you to understand…” he pauses, dragging a finger along your cheek, swiping a tear and glancing down at it glistening on his finger. His body is still close, pressed right against yours. 

“That I’m doin’ it for your own good. So you know I mean it all. I won’t hurt ya unless you disobey me, yeah? If you’re not a good girl, you’re gonna have some punishments. Do you understand?”

You nod hesitantly, your brows furrowed and trying to process all of the information he’s throwing at you. 

“Y’need some sleep, look at you,” he says with a shake of his head, taking in your disheveled state, swaying where you stand as a few more tears roll down your cheeks. He feels a pang spearing his heart at your weary, dejected stance, body trembling openly at his proximity. He knows he did this to you, made you this broken little bird he could grasp in his hands and crush with his words alone, but he did it for your own good. He tells himself this sentence for what feels like the millionth time, absolving his guilt in a single second. You need him, deserve the unrelenting care he’ll pour out once you fully give yourself over to him. Anytime now… with your cracks showing more and more, your desperation to please him not as well hidden as you might think.

 “You’ll feel better in the mornin’, hm?” Joel says when you don’t answer him.

You shrug slightly, keeping your shoulders rolled up, feeling defensive as Joel rests his fingers on your arm more gently now. “We’ll talk more then,” he says decidedly, making the decision for the both of you as he sidles up next to you and puts an arm around you, his hand resting on the small of your back.

You begin to walk nearly catatonically back towards the stairs with Joel’s guidance. His hands slide to your hips and squeeze as you move up the stairs in a daze, exhaustion overtaking you. You swear you’re tired down to your very cells, every piece of your being sapped and scraped thin right now. 

“Thank you,” you murmur in a whisper when Joel helps you shrug the blanket off of your shoulders, laying it tidily back on the chair where you’d found it. 

“You’re welcome,” he responds, kissing the top of your head. You’re moved to the bed, body soft and yielding for him to place you where he wishes, finding you a place wrapped right in his arms just as you were earlier.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” he whispers, lips flitting against your hair and cheek when he senses your tension. “Jus’ be good, don’t do that again, okay? Don’t wanna have to chain you to the bed while we sleep, would we?”

Your mouth sags open, chest pulling tight at his threat, the way it had rolled off his tongue like it was nothing, no humor or jesting behind it. When he’d said the word punishment he’d meant it in the most serious sense. Things like chaining you up, biting your neck until it was bruised, bleeding, and throbbing, and the likely long list of things he had lined up that you couldn’t even envision if you tried.

“N-no, you’ll never need to do that, I w-won’t…” you reply after composing yourself for a brief moment.

“Never say never,” Joel whispers with a conceited smirk. “You may find yourself askin’ me to do it someday, princess. Beggin’ me…”

You let out a breathy scoff of a laugh, mostly out of discomfort, but Joel hardly notices, busy tucking you into the crook of his neck as he puts an arm behind your head.

“You’ll see someday, babygirl, you’ll see… now let’s get some sleep.”

You stare into the dark of the room, head rising and falling with the movements of Joel’s chest while he falls back asleep. You hate that he smells good right now, that the hair of his chest feels so gorgeous and manly under your fingertips. You hate that you feel comfortable right now, safe, despite everything he’s done to you. You hate everything about all of it, but you don’t hate… him. It makes you sick, your stomach turning as you fight the urge to cry yet again. 

You start to think back to your backpack and boots, waiting for you by the door. Their enticing siren call is louder than ever, beckoning you away from here. 

You could learn to survive out there. You know you could. 

You peek up at Joel’s face again, willing yourself to read him, the same thoughts swirling through your head from earlier tonight. You slowly reach your hand up and touch the lines on his face with your fingertips - around his eyes, his forehead, his cheeks. Ever so gently you move along his face, and Joel’s mouth twitches as he sleeps, morphing into a soft smile. 

There he is. That is Joel. That has to be him. That soft smile, a sweet man who wants to care about you. That wants a companion, someone to spend his life with, not someone to hurt. 

You sigh and close your eyes, dropping your hand and shifting your body to mold even closer to his, finding comfort in his large, imposing form rather than fear right now.

Yes, you think as your eyes flutter and you drift off, you could learn. Maybe it would just be an entirely different set of lessons.

[fuckmyskywalker]

❄️ 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟐𝐧𝐝 : 𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐬 - 𝐒𝐚𝐦 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐫𝐨𝐞.

— CW: 18+. Smut. Oral (f). Masturbation. Brief vaginal penetration. Creampie. Exhibitionism. | Word Count: 0.8k

— a/n: I'm finally free and I'm no longer sick! I'll catch up with the 23 and upload 24 <3. Kissies and sorry for the inconvenience!

— Anyafest 2023 + Taglist!

When Sam invited you to spend Christmas with his mom’s side of the family, you clearly weren’t expecting to be dragged behind the tall, leafy Christmas tree; the bright colorful lights bathed your face, highlighting the confused expression on your flushed cheeks. “What are you doing?” You whisper at your boyfriend, looking between the thick branches, making sure his mother or his aunts are still chatting in the kitchen.

Sam pushes you against the wall, his hip brushing against the tree and making some ornaments jingle softly. “I want to fuck you,” He states simply as if it was obvious— it kind of was. “It’s so stupid my mom is making us sleep in separate rooms.”

“We can’t fuck in the living room!”

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

Smashing his lips against yours, Sam slides his cold hands under your loose T-shirt, cupping your breasts and squeezing them. His erection rubs against your thigh, barely concealed by those ridiculous red checkered pajama pants his mother bought for everyone to wear… including you. His thumbs circle your nipples as he drinks your moans with harsh, demanding kisses. With your palms against his shoulders, you try to push him away to protest a little more, but it seems that he has other plans; one hand releases your chest, yanks the waistband of your pants down, bringing your underwear with them. “You better be quiet,” He threatens you before kneeling and burying his face between your legs.

His tongue traces your folds before using his thumbs to spread them. Licking his lips, Sam runs his tongue flat over your clit, flicking it repeatedly. The thrill of doing it behind the goddamned Christmas tree is making your head go dizzy, you should be ashamed, have an ounce of respect for his family… but right now you can’t seem to care when your boyfriend is sucking your clit with equal need. He wasn’t lying when he said he wanted to fuck you. Your hand reaches for his dark locks, tugging at them to grind against his face eliciting a quiet laugh from him, his hot breath hitting your cunt in a way that sends shivers from your head to your toes. 

“You taste like a whole fucking meal,” He mumbles, returning his tongue to your swollen nub and torturing you a little more. “This pussy is just perfect.”

Staying quiet becomes quite the challenge when you lower your eyes, no longer focusing on the white ceiling, just in time for Sam to pull his pajama and wrap a hand around his throbbing member, smearing the precum that trickled down the tip. 

“Sam—” You choke, furrowing your brows when his tongue slides in. Stroking himself quickly, Sam’s hips rock back and forth, seeking his own release while hurrying yours. The heartbeat ringing loudly in your ears mutes the laughs from the kitchen, his family being the least of your problems now.

The flick of his wrist speeds up as he returns his mouth around your clit, stimulating it until you are sure you are touching heaven itself— you are so close to coming, maybe it is from the adrenaline, the high risk of getting caught, or to be fair, Sam’s skilled tongue can be doing the trick. 

“I’m gonna come, don’t stop—” He nods at your words, slowing his pleasure to only focus on yours until it happens. Biting your lower lip, your climax hits you like a strong electric wave that lasts longer than you expected. The world spins around you, your mind drowned with the ecstasy and oxytocin that burns in your fingertips. 

“That’s it, dolly,” Sam whispers hotly, panting and already sweaty. Standing up, he guides his cock between your slick folds, pushing it and stretching you in a swift motion. “Shh, it’s okay— I’ll just come inside to save us the mess. Be quiet.” He says, thrusting quickly and fast before he grunts and presses his forehead against yours. His eyebrow twitches as his cock mimics it in rapid jerks, shooting his load deep inside you. You hold him, savoring the small intimate moment and humming at the familiar feeling of his cock filling you up. 

“You are insane.” You laugh, catching your breath— when you hear footsteps coming from the kitchen.

Sam’s eyes widen and he quickly presses his body flush against yours, holding his breath as his face presses next to yours. Thank fucking God the tree is tall and wide enough and covered in decorations to cover you both. You side-eye him with a terrified expression, if his mother finds you two… you can’t even imagine the embarrassment. 

Robin calls your name followed by Sam’s. No answer. She calls again, this time louder. Your heart stops beating for a second or at least it feels like. You two are screwed. 

“Leave them alone,” Sam’s grandma yells from the kitchen and you have never been more thankful. “Come back and help me with the turkey.”

Reluctantly, Robin looks around the living room and grabs the TV remote, the forgotten movie you and Sam were watching no longer concealing the noises you two made. She walks away, replying something to her mother you can’t quite catch. Sam exhales, relieved that he dodged the bullet.

“Sorry,” He chuckles, kissing your cheek. “I promise it won’t happen again.”

But it’s a lie, you know it will happen again.

— ❄️ Taglist! : @offthethirlwall | @pockcock | @shellxrls | @anisdoll | @wifeofasith | @anakinsgirlfriendreal | @anisgurll | @mortalheartache | @arzua10 | @haydensgirlaela | @bimbo-baggins86 | @https-luvaviva | @bunnylovesani | @glazelilies | @slvttedoutmars

[cameronspecial]

I Will Take Care Of You, Rafe

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.5K

Summary: A little accident during their wedding reception has Rafe being apologetic.

A/N: Inspired by this video.

Masterlist

There is no question Rafe is close to Topper and Kelce. Watching them at her wedding doesn’t make Y/N doubt this belief; it does, however, make her fear for her new husband’s safety. The newlyweds agreed that they were going to let go during the reception and not worry about saving energy or staying totally sober so that they could have sex at the end of the night. They know that either way, the night is going to be exhausting, which is not the best time to make love for the first time as wife and husband. So why not enjoy the reception as they designed it to be, with their friends and family? She stands beside her sister-in-law, gripping Sarah’s hand with fear that Rafe is going to be hurt while on Topper’s shoulders. Things get even more nerve-wracking as slightly-inebriated Rafe leans back and Kelce starts hanging from her husband’s legs. Topper starts to spin with both boys at opposite ends, causing the wife to pray that Topper is strong enough to hold both men. Y/N can finally let out the breath she is holding in when the groomsmen and groom are all walking on their own feet. As Rafe walks over to her, his dizziness plus the drinks he had, makes him trip over his feet and fall flat on his face. 

Y/N rushes to him and helps him to his feet. He apologizes profusely whilst she guides them to the separate room they have to get ready in. She sets him on a chair and thanks one of the waiters for bringing her ice for her husband. Her hands wrap the cool cube in a towel, resting it on the forming bruise on his forehead. “I’m so sorry that I got drunk and got hurt during our wedding, Angel. This is supposed to be your perfect day and now, you are taking care of my injuries,” he says with shame. She shakes her head and straddles him, “You have nothing to apologize for. I know when you are out of control drunk and that’s not what you are right now. I can see that even though we agreed to let loose, you are holding back in how much you are drinking and I appreciate that.” 

“But this is your perfect day,” he tries to argue, burying his head into her neck. She kisses him, “This is our perfect day, Rafe. The only thing that would make this day unperfect is if we didn’t get married.” “I know, but instead of celebrating with everyone, you are here with me,” he states. His eyes drop to her dress and she raises his gaze to hers with her finger. “Stop trying to apologize. I will take care of you, Rafe. No matter where we are or when it is because I love you and I am now your wife. You are stuck with me forever, Sir.” Rafe chuckles and when he looks at her, his eyes hold so much love for the woman before him, “It’s not a bad place to be stuck. I love you, Angel.” “I love you too, Rafe. Now, that we’ve had some time to ourselves, how about we go back to the party?” she suggests. Rafe’s hands grip the back of her thighs as he rises from his chair, “Let’s go back to the party, my beautiful bride.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @queen-shadow22 @victory-in-the-llama @drewsmusee @starkowswife

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

A Perfect Score - Chapter 3 - Goosebumps | FigureSkating!AU

Summary: You perform your first match with Aemond, and things are beginning to heat up in the figure skating business | Word Count: 6.8k~ | Warnings under the cut~

Series Masterlist | Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: sexual tension, masturbation (f), reader having racy thoughts but nothing crazy, mentions of medical treatment for trigeminal neuralgia, mentions of an open relationship

A/N: shoutout to @asumofwords for giving me inspo for the 'stretch'. Also we love a slow-burn enemies to lovers moment, but we're heating up! 🔥

Comments, reblogs & likes are always appreciated in this household. I love u 😚

“Again”

You were covered in sweat, visible in the black tank top you were wearing and by the harsh lights that illuminated the ice rink. Your chest heaved noticeably as you placed your hands on your hips, the remaining momentum having you glide across the ice as you looked at Aemond, who stood tall, arms crossed and looking as stern as the day you met him.

In the weeks training with him everyday, you’d managed to at least try to be civil (save for a few choice words over dinner which had either of you leave the table instantly. One time you both tried to leave at the same time, and had a staredown, which delighted Aegon immensely). Aemond had not changed his attitude, neither had you.

Nor had Aemond apologised for what he’d said. And so much time had passed now, you were unsure if he ever would.

Anytime you would both pass one another in the hallway, every shared look at the dinner table felt like striking a match and depending on the day, it would catch and spread, and erupt into a fully blown argument. A clashing of personalities that were perhaps too close to one another to truly get on.

You straighten up, sucking in a breath, “Aemond, it’s late”

He checked his watch, the look on his face confirming that it was indeed late but that he didn’t care. He shrugged, “Again”

With a sigh, you get back into position, trying to ignore the way he so blatantly stares and picks apart quite literally everything you do. Even if he is right sometimes, it doesn’t make it any less annoying.

You can feel every muscle begin to ache from the everyday rigorous training you’ve been doing, and icing your muscles in between is helping but not entirely. Every night, you sleep like a freaking baby, since it takes all your brain capacity to tiptoe around Aemond wherever you go. You appreciate it’s his home and he can be wherever he wants in it at any given time, but not being on good terms is starting to drain the very energy out of you.

For what feels like the thousandth time you build up some speed (wanting nothing more than to just push him over on those stupid skates he’s wearing) and jump into a spin, stretching your leg as far and as high as it will go without assisting it with your hand.

“No, no” Aemond says quickly, shaking his head and gliding over, making you stop.

He stops behind you again, his skates crunching to a halt.

“Don’t bend your knee” he comments, “did you stretch?”

You throw him a pointed look over your shoulder, “I always stretch”

Aemond hums, which is becoming increasingly annoying as the weeks go on.

You gasp in surprise when his hand reaches for your leg and lifts it, his hand encircling the legging-clad skin near your knee, grasping with minimal pressure. It momentarily tips you off balance, not having expected it, and his other hand goes back around your waist, palm flat on your middle between your ribs to keep you standing straight, as it had been the first day you practised together.

“Don’t bend your knee” he repeats, lifting your leg higher, tightening his other arm around you to keep you level and inadvertently tugging you closer to him, so much so you can feel his leg against your hip. “That’s it”

He lifts your leg so that it stands at a 45 degree angle, as straight as your leg will allow. But aside from the way your leg is stretched, your brain feels like it’s short-circuiting. His fingers curl around the meat of your thigh, pressing lightly to keep you up.

He is so close to your back, that you’re sure you can feel the puffs of air out his nose as he breathes, making the hair around your face sway somewhat in your periphery. And more than anything, his other hand, firmly on your torso, presses in, drawing your bodies almost flush with your back against his hardened chest.

All this makes your skin go all warm, in spite of the harsh air conditioning, your chest entirely too tight and everything about what he’s doing, how close he is, how his stature looms behind, all serves to make you realise how small you feel in comparison. You swallow anxiously at the thought, hoping he doesn’t realise how your breathing is suddenly heavier.

Your leg firmly on the ice wobbles slightly off balance, and he moves his hand to your waist, squeezing tighter.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you” he says, hushed, probably the softest his voice has ever seemed.

You turn your face only slightly when he says that, not having to move much to look back at him behind you. Almost as soon as you do, Aemond lowers his face, his eye meeting yours.

He’s worn his hair down today, as he sometimes does, but several strands are tucked firmly behind his ear, swinging softly in the gentle breeze. It makes your skin tingle and goosebumps form on your arms.

His eye flits around your face, and you know he must be able to see the slight flush you feel in the centre of your features, spreading down your neck, all the way down to your belly. In the closeness of the gesture, he stands tall behind you, and you see his eye run over your tank top, from his angle the shadow of your cleavage just visible.

He looks back at you quickly again, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, which have now stolen your attention. They stay parted, and he breathes ever so slightly heavier out his mouth.

It’s so miniscule, the gesture, that if you weren’t paying attention you’d miss it. But his hand slips from your mid-thigh just that little bit lower, and both of his hands squeeze tighter, until he skates backwards, gently letting you go. Something tugs about your core at the action. It felt so intimate. So sensu-

“Good, that’s good” he says weakly, clearing his throat.

You lower your leg almost as soon as he retreats, the place where he had touched burning significantly, feeling like you’d touched a hot kettle.

The session ends like this. Like there's something unspoken, and a hammering in your chest that won't cease as you walk up the cobbled path back to the house. Now that you're outside, you feel cold from having exerted with the soft sheen of sweat over your body. Aemond looks the same, his shirt sticking to the front of his chest and the hem around his biceps.

Aemond walked quickly ahead, helped by his long legs, but he was walking faster than usual, as if in a hurry to get back inside. He threw the glass doors open and rushed through the kitchen, not bothering even to say hello to Helaena who was leant by the counter, idly eating cereal.

Helaena looked at him and then at you as you stepped through the door, "What's wrong with him?" She asks, gesturing with her head. It was a common question since your arrival.

You can still feel the colour to your cheeks. But at least you could blame the fact that you were training just now. Even so, Helaena looked at you with a mischievously suspicious look.

You shrug, trying to be as convincing as possible, "Don't know. We just finished training"

Helaena raises an eyebrow, looking at the clock on the wall, "At 10:30 at night?"

"Yeah?"

Helaena smirks, as if she's not convinced.

"Sure"

You sigh, opening the fridge for a cold bottle of water, "Don't be like that, he hates me"

"He doesn't hate you" she insists, "He's just…antisocial"

You look at her sharply after a good sip, "That's neither true or an excuse"

Helaena bites her lip, desperate to say something, but she shakes her head and looks back at her bowl.

Sighing you check your phone, seeing an email from Hightower Management. It must have come in while you and Aemond were on the ice.

"What's this?" you ask, showing Helaena the screen.

"Oh, we've got a match in a few days. It decides who goes on the championship tour and Otto is just giving us the details. What to wear, which routine we'll do etc"

You scroll through the email absentmindedly, taking in the more important details, "I'm supposed to wear white?"

Helaena nods, "Aemond always wears black. Me and Aegon always wear variations of red"

You bite your lip, "I'll have to see if I have anything white"

"If you don't, we'll go shopping," she smiles.

"I can't afford that"

She furrows her brows, "Babes, Hightower Management will pay for it"

There's something about them paying for everything which, deep down, doesn't sit well with you. But you suppose, now that you're working for them, they really should pay. It just feels wrong. Especially after all those years where you had to make your costumes yourself, bent over the desk at ungodly hours only to be awake training the next morning.

You quickly bid Helaena goodnight, feeling the sudden hit of fatigue in your muscles as you drag your feet up the stairs.

You're barely on the landing as you hear Aegon murmuring lowly in the hallway, barely standing over the threshold of his bedroom. Aemond is leant against the doorway, one hand gripping the frame at the top, his lips pressed together as he chats with his brother lowly. So quietly in fact you can't tell what either of them are saying.

Hearing your footsteps approach your room, Aemond looks over, the conversation grinding to a halt when he sees you.

Warmth and embarrassment blooms across your skin, settling deep in your gut. He's clearly had a shower, as his hair is loose and damp around his shoulders, his skin ever so slightly flushed from the hot water.

As much as you don't want to admit it, you can't deny that you sneaked a peek at his grey sweatpants, hanging loosely on his hips, which you can only see since the black shirt he's wearing is riding up slightly with one hand on the doorframe, the grip now tightened somewhat.

Just like that everything is hot again and something akin to dull excitement settles between your legs.

Stop it.

You can remember his firm grasp on your thigh.

Stop it.

His eye flits over you again, jaw tensing noticeably. Your breathing noticeably heavier.

You gather your breath, willing the heat to disappear from your face and quickly retreat into your room, finding solace in the quiet, cool sensation of being away from Aemond, thoughts having a moment's reprieve.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

It surely can’t be the birth control. Your hormones have never been out of whack before? They had been on that pill, but that was ages ago...

So why does it feel like all of a sudden, you feel like you haven’t fucked anyone in a while? And why does it suddenly feel so urgent?

You try and think of the last time you slept with someone. Gods, it must have been several months ago with that guy from Highgarden, the one who came in about forty seconds and spent the rest of the evening crying.

It was unsatisfactory, yes, but you don’t have time to date! There’s no room for someone else in the busy schedule that is being a professional figure skater. None whatsoever.

You briefly think if you packed your vibrator with you and realised very quickly, that you didn’t even think about it when you moved out, thinking that you wouldn’t be gone long.

So once you’re showered, hair dried and laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, eyes tracing the patterns of the ceiling-rose with the domed light sat ornamentally in the middle, your stomach still carries that warmth you felt earlier.

The way his grasp lowered on your thigh.

The way his hand squeezed your waist.

The way his words had been whispered softly into your ear, warming your neck.

You shake your head in frustration, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes. What the hell is going on? He’s a twat! It is against every moral cell inside you to find this man even somewhat attractive, after the things he’s said to you, nevermind his terrible attitude on top of that.

But as you have thought before. He can be both a twat and attractive right?

This is how you rationalise it, as your hand slips beneath the hem of your underwear, bringing yourself that dull buzz of pleasure as your middle finger teases your bud, aided with the surprise that you’re already wet. Your head tips back against the pillows, pressing your lips together to keep your sounds low in your throat, the other hand dipping beneath the oversized sleeping shirt you were wearing to cup your breast.

Not at all imagining they were someone else’s.

No, that would be weird.

It happens faster than usual. Your finger speeds up over your bud, pressing lightly as your hips move with the rhythm only slightly, and your orgasm sneaks up on you quickly, rolling through your body so fast that a quiet whisper of moan manages to slip out. By the time your hand makes it up to your mouth to cover your lips, the muted high is beginning to dissipate into your limbs.

You pull your fingers back, feeling the tiredness lingering in your body now that your orgasm has subsided, and close your eyes to sleep, just hoping, praying, that whatever you were even thinking about that asshole, would disappear by morning.

It absolutely hadn’t disappeared.

That said, there was still a lingering annoyance in the way your partnership brewed in this murky state. Not speaking properly to one another, not even really looking at one another, and just marching through your training together, having to be the kind of intimate that is more indicative of lovers than business partners.

The match was taking place at Summerhall. A sort of halfway point for all the contenders of each region of Westeros, to come together and determine who most deserved to go on the tour of Westeros, competing for the championship title.

Your body was filled to the brim with nerves the entire journey there, your stomach doing flips with every speed bump the minivan struggled to overcome.

That morning, Aemond had been entirely irritable until he was summoned to a closed off portion of their family home, confined to a room for several hours. You sat in the doorway entirely confused, until Helaena had the heart to explain once Alicent was out of earshot.

"He's having his injections" she had said.

"His what?"

Trigeminal Neuralgia. It was explained as.

As a result of this accident, which you still knew nothing about, Aemond had suffered with severe facial pain as the damage had interfered with the nerve. As a result, he endured glycerol injections in the side of his face, which provided relief for a few months, even stretching to a year.

But when the pain flared, Helaena explained, he was impossible to be around.

Your heart aches with a kind of sympathy, knowing that Aemond has to deal with this pain and recurring painful injections to keep it at bay. And as he finally comes out, with a plaster taped to the side of his face, he at least looks a bit more relaxed.

Or as relaxed as Aemond can be.

It results in neither of you speaking the entire journey to Summerhall. He'd put in his airpods, blasted his music and fallen right to sleep, his head only moving when the minivan took a sharper turn than expected.

Part of you can't help but look at him when he was asleep, stealing glances where you otherwise wouldn't get away with. Admiring the sharp angles of his face, his aquiline-shaped nose and most notably, the sharpness and definition of his jaw and cheekbones.

It was a shame he was a dick.

Knock knock.

You shake yourself from the trance, looking up at yourself in the vanity when you hear someone behind the door of the changing room, their knock signalling their presence almost so soft you didn't hear it.

"Come in"

Alicent peeks round the door, smiling in a way only a mother does, her hair pulled back into a ponytail.

"How are you feeling?" She asks, once she's closed the door.

"A bit nervous, but fine" you reply, trying to sound convincing. But it clearly doesn't land, as Alicent smiles softly, sitting down next to you.

"Come, let me put on your skates" she suggests softly.

In the end, you'd misread the email from Hightower Management that you should wear white. In fact it said would, and they provided you with an all white outfit, some of it decorated with rhinestones, and a flowy leotard, very much indicative of the usual sportswear. It looked more expensive than any outfit you'd worn, and it made you feel strange wearing it now.

Alicent tugs at your laces, tying them expertly like it was muscle memory, "You know it always makes me emotional. Watching Helaena skate" she muses, her attention on her task, "Reminds me of myself"

You swallow, unsure of what to say at first, "Helaena is a wonderful skater. You should be proud" you smile.

Alicent returns it, patting your skate-clad feet and plopping then on the floor, "And I am sure I will be very proud of you also, my darling"

Your heart squeezes. She says it with such sincerity and emotion, with not an ounce of patronisation behind it.

"You look beautiful" she praises, tucking a hair behind your ear. Your hair was half up and half down, with waves put into it (courtesy of Helaena, as you'd previously mentioned you had no idea what to do with it). And your makeup, as you've always done, is bright and non-descript. A 'barely-there' approach.

You smile in thanks, taking a calming breath as you follow Alicent out the dressing room, meeting the rest of the team on the benches near the rink.

All of the other competitors also wait by the side lines, talking to their coaches. A few you recognise based on their house colours, grey for the Starks, a brother and sister duo, Cregan and Sara. As well as gold and red for the Lannisters, Jason Lannister and his partner, Johanna (who he totally isn't cheating on).

More than anything, the one that pops out the most are the Dornish, with their dark hair contrasting with their bright yellow costumes. Qoren Martell, lovingly nicknamed 'The Scorpion' and his Dornish girlfriend Mara. They were known for being unbelievably cocky, and put on quite the suggestive shows with their moves out on the ice. For this reason, they always made it to championships, giving both of them alike a big head.

In the distance you can see Aemond, all dressed and ready entirely in black, including some brand new looking black skates. Unlike in training, he wears his hair down around his shoulders, looking somewhat mythical leaning against the wall, arms crossed and receiving a bit of a grilling from Otto.

"Miss! Miss! A word for the White Worm?"

"Is it true Hightower Management had you sign an NDA?"

"Could you tell us about your troubled childhood?"

A slew of reporters seem to block your path, each of them shoving whatever microphones or recorders they have in their hands right into your face. You're so taken aback, that you don't even have the brain capacity to say anything. Your mouth is just open, with only unintelligible sounds coming out.

Otto materialises, pushing several of the reporters away while Aemond wraps his fingers around your arm, gently tugging you away while they're dealt with.

"Ignore them" he says lowly.

You take yet another calming breath, suddenly hit with the sinking feeling that the arena is jam packed full of important people, and the judges are lined up at the front, looking stern as anything. It never fails to make you wince to see their expressions.

Your breath is almost taken away though when you look back at Aemond.

Where his glass eye would usually sit, nestled between the angry scar down his face, sits a sapphire, glimmering in the harsh lights of the hall. Your lips sit parted in utter fascination.

You shake your head when you realise you're staring, "Sorry, I-"

"It's fine" he replies quickly, "I wear it for competitions"

You nod, eyes flitting to both his good eye and the sapphire, as if transfixed, "It's…nice". You almost cringe at yourself for the way you've said it. But truthfully, it's so distractingly pretty, it's difficult to not be speechless.

He stands still for a long time, looking around awkwardly not knowing what to say, "Thanks"

The announcement over the speakers echoes that it's almost time for your performance, and you swear you feel cold all over. Your eyes scan the crowd, rubbing your hands together nervously, spotting Rhaenys at the very back with Rhaena. Upon spotting you they wave widely, and you return it with a grin, feeling your heart swell to see they've gone through the effort to come to see you.

Nerves eat at you, remembering the routine, the jumps, the landings. The incessant coaching of Otto doesn't go amiss either. You slip your blade guards off your skates, watching as several cameras pan around the rink, and the commentators up in the box talking into their microphones.

"This is the first match from famed Aemond Targaryen, aptly nicknamed 'The Ice Prince', since his former skating partner, Floris Baratheon, was injured significantly. His new partner has yet to perform in any championship deciding matches"

"Yes, an unconventional choice for the Targaryens, to have such a green skater to be paired with. Time will tell if she will crack under the pressure"

You're the first to skate out, doing a few laps to warm up and adjusting both your hair and your outfit, making sure your laces are tight and secure before Aemond also skates out, having had a few words with Otto.

Coming to a halt in the middle, you take another steadying breath, shaking the nerves from your arms, ankles crossed as Aemond stops behind you. The crowd goes quiet when you assume position, his hand splayed on your middle, with yours covering his, trying to ignore the way it stokes the fire within.

Mahler's Symphony, Adagietto begins to play. Part of you can't help but find it a boring choice, but now in front of everyone, the crowd as quiet as a whisper as you and Aemond begin the routine, it feels more magical.

With his hair down and the sapphire on show, he looks utterly majestic on the ice, donned entirely in black, contrasting starkly with your white outfit. You can't help but look over at him every now and then, enraptured by his appearance.

"Technically, wonderful performance so far. The couple seem distant though, which I wonder if it will tie into their performance"

The first several jumps and spins go perfectly well, by the book, landing with balance. All building up to the one jump that you can tell, everyone is holding their breath for. The jump you'd been practising with Aemond for the last few weeks, was now being watched and streamed for everyone to critique and see.

The throw triple lutz.

Your chest inflates, as you both skate backwards, Aemond's hands wrapping around your waist as he skates behind you.

"Will they land it?"

Aemond throws you in the air, twisting you slightly and aiding in your airborne triple spin. The crowd immediately erupts in applause and cheer when you land it, your foot stable, both you and Aemond skating and joining hands in the next move.

"They've done it!"

"She's mastered the landing"

"Wonderful performance technically"

You breathe out finally, relief and pride blooming in your chest as you complete the last few spins and moves with Aemond, who doesn't let a single thing show on his face. As stoic and stony as ever.

It isn't until the routine is over that you see Aemond breathe what could be a sigh of relief that it's over. He doesn't spare a look in your direction as you skate off, greeted instantly by an excited Alicent and Helaena, who are congratulating you in heightened vibrant voices. Aemond earns a pat on the back as he stalks off with Aegon, speaking lowly.

"That was amazing!" Helaena praises, looking the part herself in her red outfit, "such a good landing!"

"Thank you!" You respond, seeing both Aegon and Helaena taking off their blade guards for their turn, "Good luck" you smile at her, making your way over to the bench to get off your jelly-like legs.

Otto gives you a nod, showing his wordless appreciation. In that way, you suppose Aemond is a lot like him, using few words to convey what he thinks.

You sit beside Aemond at the side lines, watching the board and waiting anxiously before the scores come in. He sits still, only his left leg bouncing to show how he's feeling, his tongue poking his cheek.

Aemond murmurs something, so quiet that at first you don't even hear it.

"What?"

He turns his head slowly, his sapphire greeting you before his good eye does, stealing your breath for a moment.

"You were good" he repeats, clearer this time, "out there"

You bite your lip to hide your smile looking down into your lap, knowing it's hurting everything inside him to compliment one thing you've done.

He huffs a quiet laugh through his nose, turning away again, "Don't make me regret that"

You can feel the cameraman in your periphery move to angle in on both of your nervous faces as the scores come in.

With the exception of a few with some points knocked off, it's a clean score. The crowd erupts, and your heart hammers excitedly, the adrenaline making it feel like fire in your veins.

"A respectable score for her first pairs match. No doubt helped by her perfect landing of that triple lutz"

Alicent pulls you into a hug, offering her congratulations as you barely hear one another over the cheers. Your face burns from smiling so widely, relieved that you had done your bit and a damn good job of it as well. She moves on to hug her son, who offers a quick embrace, whispering something you don't hear to her.

"There she is. The Sweetheart of Oldtown offering her support to her son"

"The Targaryens make it to the championship tour yet again, Aemond Targaryen representing the Crownlands"

The last thing you see is Rhaenys and Rhaena in the crowd, clapping dramatically with wide, proud smiles. Your vision blurs with happiness for a moment, giving them a wide wave.

Turning to Aemond, you're not sure what to do to congratulate him. So you settle on offering your hand for him to shake. He eyes it for a moment, his brows pulled together, before shaking it, nodding in mutual thanks.

The camera doesn't miss it though.

Figure Skating is as much about performance, teamwork and performing for the cameras, aside from technical ability. You hate this fact more than anything. But every match, you're reminded it's true.

"Not a full house, but they have potential as a duo. No doubt points knocked off for performance"

"Let's hope the icy couple warm up once the championship tour rolls round"

Some of the nerves had begun to wear off by the time the after party rolled around. You bit your lip as you watched Helaena in the reflection, stood behind you and pulling the curling iron from your hair, making sure it was waved in the right direction.

She met your eyes in the mirror, smiling, the highlighter around her eyes twinkling, "Excited for tonight?" She asked, squirting some finishing oil into her hands and running it through your hair.

"For the free food? Yes" you smirk at her, "however, wearing heels, no"

When you arrived in the hotel after the match, the dress was already laid out with the heels and jewellery in a box on the bed, kindly paid for by Hightower Management once again, accompanied by a congratulatory note.

It was an all black outfit, a bit sexier than you otherwise would have picked, with a slit up one leg. But wearing something you wouldn't usually was kind of exciting and you touched the gold necklace around your neck, a simple chain with no pendant, and admired the neckline of the dress in the mirror.

"Done" Helaena chirped.

You stood, smoothing down the front of the dress, trying to get used to walking in the black heels, "How do I look?"

Helaena had helped to curl your hair at the back, fixing in place a gold hair accessory as she did so, "Gorgeous. Everyone won't be able to take their eyes off you"

Something flutters in your belly when she says that.

"Anyway, see you down there, I've got to go with Aegon" she smiles, slipping out the door in her fitted cream dress.

You look yourself up and down in the floor length mirror, fiddling with the ring on your pointer finger. Helaena had done a fantastic job with your hair, sitting in waves down your back. But you also couldn't help but feel weird wearing such a strappy dress, as it wasn't what you'd go for at all.

With a breath to psych yourself up, you swing open your door, going to step out, gasping back in surprise to find Aemond had his fist outstretched with the intention of knocking. Unlike you, he didn't move or say an inch, he just stares down, dressed in a black suit (this time with an off white shirt underneath), his sapphire still lodged in his left eye socket.

His eye briefly runs over you making your heart rattle faster, clearing his throat as he tucks his hand into a pocket, "Uh, Otto said I should come and collect you"

You swallow thickly, closing the door softly behind you, "Did he say we should go together?"

Aemond nods, rolling his eye somewhat as you make your way to the lift, pressing the button, "Everyone attends with their business partner" he says simply.

Oh, right. Just business partners.

The ride down the several floors is quiet, and feels longer than it actually is because of it. Aemond briefly adjusts his tie, trying to disguise the look he gives over the outfit you wear. Black to match him. Something flutters deep in your gut at the proximity, able to smell whatever aftershave he'd spritzed on himself as it clouds around your head, making your mind all foggy.

You both pause at the entrance to the event, absolutely heaving and bustling with the figure skaters, their managers, journalists and other important people, all dressed to the nines to impress. The classical music is barely audible over the chatter, laughter and clinking of glasses. The room has a smell about it, a sweet, saccharine floral scent flooding from the various expensive vases placed around. Lilies, you think. It's almost too overwhelming.

Suddenly, the slit in your dress makes you feel a tad self-conscious and you pick nervously at the fabric.

"Stop that" Aemond whispers, his fingers gently pulling your hand away, "Put on a brave face. It'll be over sooner"

Despite your skin burning where he'd touched, you nod once, taking a breath for courage.

Looking straight ahead, Aemond offers his arm, presumably to appear amicable. And you take it, barely putting pressure on the inside of his arm as you walk in together. Aemond keeps his steely stare, looking entirely uncomfortable in this environment.

The first people who approach you, arm in arm as you both are, are the Dornish couple, their dark hair curled and slick with gel. Qoren flashes a toothy grin at you, Mara on his arm looking somewhat doped out with her eyes hooded and kohl thick over her eyelids.

You surmise they must wear their rich yellow-orange colours all the time, judging by their outfits. And that the stereotype must be somewhat true, based on both of their plunging necklines.

"Here he is. The One-Eyed wonder!" He chirps. And you feel the way Aemond tenses up at the rude comment.

"Qoren" he greets flatly, biting his cheek.

Seemingly happy with his reaction, Qoren turns to you, "And who is this gorgeous flower?" He adds, hand outstretched for yours.

Politely, you offer your hand, introducing yourself and skin prickling when he kisses it for a little too long. Mara looks entirely indifferent, in fact she even has a smile on her face.

"So nice to see a fresh face in figure skating. I hope you are coping well with the Targaryens! Not everyone can handle their fire" Qoren muses.

What's that supposed to mean?

You're not quite sure what to say, so you settle for, "Thank you. Nice to meet you"

Otto appears suddenly on Aemond's left side, whispering something and easing him away. You feel somewhat apprehensive of being left alone when the two of them find a quiet corner to talk.

But when you look back at Qoren, your heart goes faster to find Mara on the other side of the room, chatting up Jason Lannister, which briefly makes your lips part in shock.

Qoren smirks, "Mara and I are open"

You shake your head quickly, "I didn't mean to stare I-"

He laughs, "It's alright. Really"

Luckily at that exact moment, a member of staff stops by your side and you quickly pull a flute of champagne off of it, sipping it slightly to take the edge off. You look at Aemond and Otto as you do. Aemond looks white as a sheet, staring at one corner of the room with a gaze that implies panic, with Otto still whispering in his ear.

When you follow their panicked looks, there's a woman standing alongside the strange brown-haired man from the schmoozing event, the one with the limp whose name you still don't remember. She is the epitome of beauty, with dark raven hair and blood red lips, her body filling out the emerald green dress with her hourglass physique and her neckline accentuating the fullness of her breasts.

"That's Alys Rivers" Qoren states, seeing your stare.

You look back at him quickly, cheeks burning from being caught looking, "Who?"

"Before our time. Retired figure skater. Represented the Riverlands"

"Retired?" You repeat, "she doesn't look very old"

Qoren scoffs, "She's older than she looks"

He points his pinky in her direction, leaning in to utter something quietly, "See that necklace?"

You follow his line of sight, eyes squinting in the low light. It’s true. A necklace hangs daintily in the middle of her chest, with a small pendant at the bottom.

"Sapphire" he tells you, "A gift from your One-Eyed partner"

What.

You look at Qoren, utterly dumbfounded. He just chuckles, seeing the supposed trouble he’s caused.

"Once upon a time" he says, gulping down the rest of his drink, "Not until mummy found out anyway"

You can't find it in yourself to reply. Too stunned into silence.

"Pretty thing like you shouldn't be stuck with him" now this does catch your attention, shocked at the blatancy of it, "If you ever find yourself bored of him. Mara and I are looking for someone else to sleep wi-"

"Oh no, no!" You reply quickly, forcing a laugh out, "No thank you, I uh - besides Aemond and I aren't -"

"There you are!" Helaena blurts loudly, coming to your aid, her eyes wide as if she knows exactly what she's breaking up.

She tugs you away before you have a chance to say anything, and you instantly feel relieved, "Thank you" you mouth.

She smirks, "It's alright, Aem shouldn't have left you alone with them hanging around"

You can't help but look back at the black-haired woman called Alys, now finding that Aemond has approached her. She leans close to him, speaking in a hushed and intimate manner, biting her ruby lips. Aemond on the other hand has his signature look, giving nothing away.

You want to ask.

You so want to ask.

"Do Alys and Aemond know each other?" You finally ask, giving in to curiosity.

Helaena snaps her head to you quickly, panicked almost.

"Qoren said something?" She asks, to which you nod, "They were together a few years ago, not for very long. That's probably all you should know"

Together…

The sapphire necklace.

It all makes sense. The urgency.

Otto was warning Aemond she was here.

Your lips part in wordless shock, "But…isn't she…"

"A fucking dinosaur? Yeah" Helaena says annoyed, sipping her own champagne and turning her back to them, "Disgusting is what she is" she mutters under her breath.

Dread descends on you, clouding the otherwise warm atmosphere of the after-party.

You look back. Aemond is watching Alys saunter away from the event hurriedly with a less-than-enthused look on her face. He looks visibly annoyed. Uncomfortable even.

It didn't look amicable.

So why would she wear the necklace?

Even when Alys has left, his jaw remains tense and you can't help but feel like he looks smaller, shrinking into himself with his shoulders rolled slightly forwards. His gaze briefly meets yours before you turn back, sensing you’d been caught, seeing how Helaena is also being tugged away by Aegon to chat with Cregan and Sara.

"You look nervous"

You jump out of your skin, almost dropping the flute as that Lars-Larry-whatever guy leans uncomfortably close, his eyes glinting with mischief as they roll over you.

Gods, this man is fucking creepy.

“You looked marvellous on the ice earlier” he praised, standing beside you, watching as you tapped your fingernails on the glass nervously, “Larys Strong. Skating Journalist” he introduced, allowing himself to briefly shake your hand.

You gave as polite a smile as you could muster, “Yes, I have seen you around” Lurking around, more like.

He hummed with a small wry smile, his blue eyes darting around the room, meeting Aemond’s, who was looking at them as if wondering what they were talking about.

“Are you enjoying your time with the Targaryens?” he asked in what seemed like an innocent way.

“Yes, thank you” you reply, clearing your throat, “they are very accommodating towards me”

Larys leant against the table to take the pressure off his leg, “It is a wonder…”

“What is?” you turn to him, confusion ebbing into your tone. He smiles, eyes looking elsewhere, apparently pleased that he’d managed to capture your curiosity.

“...it is a wonder why Hightower Management approached you, over say, an experienced Pairs skater.”

Your lips part. Where do men get this innate fucking audacity?

“...Jeyne Arryn. Maris Baratheon. Even Netta, of no notable house, would be good choices. Better even”

“If you have something to say to me, just say it” you reply, jaw tensed and eyes trained forward on him. Entirely sick of the patronising manner of speaking.

Larys meets your eyes, still smiling “I have some information that may be of use to you. Regarding your employment with Hightower Manage-”

“Excuse us”, Aemond’s tall form appears beside you, standing between yourself and Larys, whose face falls significantly into a stoic frown once he realises the conversation is over.

Your annoyance towards the so-called journalist is stunted somewhat by Aemond’s hand on the small of your back, pushing you away from the conversation, making colour bloom to your face and neck.

Even several paces away, his hand remains there, the contact making your skin erupt in goosebumps as it trails slightly higher up your spine. His body bends to whisper in your ear, “Stay away from him. He likes to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong”

Tell me about it.

“What did Qoren want with you” he asks, his voice low in a whisper, his hand moving to your arm to pull you along. There’s something angered about the way he asks it, his fingers somewhat digging into the meat of your flesh.

The warmth is tainted somewhat by all the frustration of feeling as if secrets are being kept from you as well as the flat, demanding manner of his voice.

You bristle away from him, the warmth of his hand disappearing, “I’m not your fucking girlfriend, Aemond. Stop treating me like one” you hiss, turning to look at him, “just business partners. Right?”

Aemond stands there, briefly confused. But the longer your eyes look at one another, the more his expression shifts into something that you’ve seen only a handful of times. Like that time he saw you training for the first time. And when he assisted your leg stretch only a few days ago.

He half blinks. Trying to hide the passing of his gaze over your form with it.

“You look nice”

Instead of feeling flattered, rage only floods through your veins. Who does he think you are? Some vain, empty-headed woman who can be so easily swayed with a compliment? Throwing yourself at his feet just because he said the most basic nice thing he could even muster?

“You fucking-”

Otto Hightower steps in, unapologetically breaking up whatever it was that was happening (but his face seemed like it couldn’t care less anyhow), hands behind his back, “There you both are”

You and Aemond hit pause on whatever argument was brewing.

“I’ve spoken with the staff. You shall both be on tour together in a week. Alone”

What.

Neither you or Aemond are capable of a cohesive reply, staring blankly at Otto, who just smiles, nods his head once and turns away.

Alone. On tour. With him?!

Fuck.

Taglist 1 (Bold means I could not tag!)

General Taglist: @blairfox04 | @hb8301 | @jamespotterismydaddy | @natty2017 | @randomdragonfires | @risefallrise | @theoneeyedprince | @thelittleswanao3 | @tsujifreya | @urmomsgirlfriend1 | @valeskafics 

Aemond Taglist (1): @asp3nxx | @avidreader73 | @astroswift | @bellaisasleep ​ | @boofy1998 | @cathy1514 | @dahlias-and-marigolds | @fan-goddess

[lundenloves]

〝 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 〞¹

≔ mandatory therapy on base, simon is not for it. originally a two part collab with @mistydeyes look to her for the second (medicines and diagnoses, doctor etc rather than a second therapy sit down)

⤷ i wanted to write something of the sort, so here we are. i’ll gesture to this piece of work lacklustrely and let you form your own like or dislike. we’re almost at 2k so i’ll be back and active (writing-wise) for that.

∷ no warnings, primarily angst and lack of cooperation. 2.5k

masterlist | taglist | request info

“It’s not a question, Simon.” Price dotted his pen, leaning back in the chair and spinning to pull a file from the cabinet beside him. “These files. These evaluations, they’re not changing.” His eyes flicked to the red stamped folder, laying it out on the desk after sliding a sheet from within.

Simon’s tongue ran along his inner cheek, watching his superior closely. “What evaluations?” The question was flat, said without inflection and more venom. His palms flat on the edge of Price’s desk, each finger tapping in succession of the one before. 

“The psych, Simon.” A beat. “You’re still hitting subpar levels.” Price shuffled the papers together in his hands, brow lifted at a few of the concerning results. “It’s not good.”

“I’m hardly failing them.” Simon replied curtly. 

The captain sat back in his chair with a finger sliding across the page. “Overkill. Aggression. Isolation. Sadistic.” He paused to look up at his lieutenant before continuing. “I quote: ‘I didn’t want to update Lieutenant Riley over the comms, none of us do. We’ll choose Sergeant MacTavish instead.’ Do you know why?”

“That’s not my problem.” He crossed his arms over his chest, widening his stance. 

“It’s exactly your problem. It’s among a few other reasons we can’t progress you to be a Captain.” Price held his palm face up, leaning forward and pushing the papers back into the file. “We need to sort it out, Simon.” His tone was that of a disappointed parent, yet still firm enough to land. 

“I’ve excelled in every physical, John.” 

“There’s zero doubt in physicality.” He cleared his throat, taking a short moment before continuing. “I’m re-enlisting you back into therapy.” 

“What the fuck, Captain.” Simon’s eyes bored solemnly into the man before him, as if this was an extended form of betrayal. 

“It’s necessary you work out these knotholes, they’re now holding you back.” Price spoke slowly, as ever aware of Simon’s reluctance over his past. “It’s no longer an option. Three times a week, you’ll sit down with Dr. Kaufman. I can’t have recruits feeling unsure around you, Simon.” 

“I already had therapy.” His own voice was low, leant close to his superior and practically growling.

“Years ago.” Price stood, silently telling Simon to back up through the action. “The colonel is asking why you’re unable to rank up after five years. What do you suppose I reply?” 

“That he hasn’t given me the fucking points.” 

The captain sighed, pushing the file back into his cabinet and sitting down to scribble something on a post-it. “It would likely be a formal document stating you’re not mentally fit for the step. Past psych evaluations attached as evidence.“ 

The small post-it was slid across the desk, Simon’s eyes dropping to the uniformed writing. “I expect you to attend, yeah?” The note read thirteen hundred hours, room eleven. 

“Fucking hell.” He said to himself after swiping the note, taking steps backward until reaching the door. “This is for today?” The paper held up between his pointer and fore fingers. 

“Today.” Price confirmed. 

Simon said no more, walking out with a nod and head hung low like he’d just been kicked in the gut. Passing soldiers ducked their own heads to avoid his habitual glares, angling their shoulders inward to not encourage his barging against them. The halls fell silent as he walked, each conversation seemingly pausing until he was out of earshot. 

A breath of annoyance was taken, heavy footsteps taking a handful of lefts — a direction he was never inclined to go, considering everything medical resided within the left side of the barracks — before reaching the rehabilitation wing. An egotistical side of him was embarrassed to be seen standing even anywhere near. And a harsh grunt came with his step toward room eleven, begrudgingly wandering down the ever winding corridor before finding his fate. 

“Fuck this.” He muttered, two hard knocks battering on the door. 

“It’s open!” Came an answer.

Simon pushed the door open, immediately under imagined scrutiny of the doctor before him. He didn’t speak, not one word, hands anxiously busying themselves by gripping the back of a soft chair. “Simon, Simon Riley.” She confirmed with a warm smile, gesturing he take a seat. “I’m Dr. Kaufman. Lily, Kaufman.”

His stare felt hostile, eyes narrowing at her false show of friendliness. “How are you?” She began typing on her laptop, eyes only briefly meeting his and he couldn’t help to assume she was writing about him. Each key tapped to create a jarring noise against her acrylic nail, Simon’s jaw tightened. 

“How long will this take.” His curt words weren’t asked in a question, but rather a mumble of inconvenience. 

“It’s an hour long session.” She flipped a sheet of paper, eyes skimming across it. “As set by a— captain John Price.” Simon grumbled at the thought, pointedly kicking his boot against the floor before taking a seat.

His silence was deafening, although Kaufman had grown accustomed to such. He did nothing but stare, arms crossed over his chest, legs in a wide manspread — one recognised to be a subconscious attempt to gain control of the situation, the room even. “What brought you to therapy, Simon.”

“Price.” 

She nodded, clasping her palms together over her desk. “And why do you think he did so?” 

“You have notes.” He sighed, resting his neck on the back of the sofa and looking to the ceiling. 

“Yes, I have formal notes,” She paused, almost for effect until Simon had craned his neck to look at her. “But I'm asking you. Why do you think he did so?” Her question provoked a shrug from him, broad shoulders lifting only briefly 

“Psychs.” He mumbled, sticking two thumbs into his eyes before sitting up. “Fucking— the things, the evaluations.” Words strung out impatiently, each one punctuated by a tap to his thigh.

“You failed them?”

“No. I’m just not at the standard they would…” Simon’s eyes skimmed across the room, merely decorated in order for less distraction. A bright looking plant in the corner almost mocked his lack of life. “Prefer.” 

“Why is that?”

“I’m angry.” His gaze then dropped to hers, the instant words seemed like a jab. “I get angry.” 

Kaufman nodded, her silence was a signal for him to continue although he didn’t take the bait. “Is that the only reason?” She asked, taking pen to paper on the way his leg had begun bouncing anxiously. 

“How many fucking questions?” 

“This is trust based. Whatever is said here, stays here.” His jaw tightened at her words, boot impatiently stomping into the floor once more. “And we need to get to know one another to start building that trust.”

His stare dropped to the floor, “We’ll take our time.” She continued, pulling her lips inward and smiling once he had looked back up. “You’re in control here.” 

The room fell to silence once again, the only sounds being the cracking of his knuckles and the scribbling of her pen. It wasn’t awkward however, Simon’s breakage in eye contact was new — his finger grazed over the only sliver of skin he had on show, his exposed forearm between sleeve and glove. “What do you know.” 

“Whatever you’re happy to share with me. This is a clean slate, your session.” He sighed though it came out as a grumble, pulling his arms back across his chest. Kaufman noticed his shifting, “Aren’t you overheating in that mask?” She spoke softly.

“I’m used to it.”

“How long have you worn it?”  

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, almost judging her question before shrugging. “Years.” She eyed the intricacies of the stitching, how almost every thread was uneven and needled with different shades of grey. It was a handmade job. 

“Did you make it?”

“Why.” He bit, his heel kicking against the floor to create a thump sound. 

“It’s clear it has a lot of meaning for you.” 

Simon nodded slowly, fidgeting with the seam of his pocket before looking back up to her. Eyes dead and fixed to her own, it was beyond obvious he would rather be anywhere else. “I don’t ever take it off.” Kaufman had caught onto the subtle change in his tone, one that warned her not to venture further. 

“We don’t have to talk about it. Remember, you’re in control.” She reasserted and Simon rolled his sleeves up, exposing a tattoo on his left forearm. “I’m just going to ask you a few questions. You don’t need to go into any detail, it’s just to help me understand you better.” 

“Right.” 

“Tell me about your tattoo.” She began, nodding toward the ink and watching as he lifted his arm to look at it himself. “What does it mean?”

He shook his head, “Nothing. It’s a bit shit, I got it when I was young as a cover up.” Sullen face lifting only briefly. 

“Covering other tattoos?”

“Mh-hm.” 

“Do you regret doing so?” Kaufman asked, playing the field to see if he was an impulsive person. Simon was surprisingly unaware of her techniques despite seeing right through his last therapist. 

He laughed a dry laugh, one that lacked humor. “No.” Eyes squinted at her smile. 

“Would you get more?” 

Simon shook his head once more, this time accompanied by a frown to further his point. Eyes naturally narrowing with the action. “Any particular reason?”

“Getting older.” 

Kaufman smiled with a tilt of her head, flipping a few pages backward in her notes. “You’re still young.” She pressed her finger to the paper with his basic information. 

His mask made it difficult for Kaufman to distinguish his feelings. It was a complete distancing tool, one that worked well. She figured it was worn to separate himself from the job. “On base, you go by—“

“Ghost.” 

“How did you come about that?” 

“Long story.” He shrugged, picking at threads by his pockets with an unnerving nonchalance to his tone and Kaufman nodded. It wasn’t difficult to see his reluctance, she pushed backward in the conversation, watching as he rubbed his opposite hand against his arm. 

The tattoo was stretched to the crease of his elbow, old ink faded to a dark grey rather than black and many scars adorned the space, creating gaps of blank skin in the artwork. “Do you enjoy your job?” She asked, gaining a slow blink in her direction, one that begged for reason.

“Would you enjoy it?” He mumbled, looking up at her with a drawn out sigh. 

“I’d imagine it takes a toll.” She sucked her lips inward, allowing the silence to settle and to create a landing pad for her pending words. “It’s intense.” 

Simon grumbled to himself, landing his boots to the floor abruptly one more time after shifting positions. Arms crossed over his chest in subconscious self pacification while pointedly staring at her — a complete and natural embedded military tactic of control. He didn’t want to speak, so stared. Stared to show acknowledgment and active dismissal, Kaufman took note. 

“Do you have a family, Simon?” She clicked her pen once more, beginning a fresh page. 

“Mh-hm.”

“Kids?”

“Two.”

“Girls, boys—“

“Girls.”

“Young?”

“Six and eleven.” 

“And am I fair to assume they know you as Simon, rather than Ghost, yes?” She was slow with her wording, deliberate in the pacing of each and every syllable as opposed to the quickfire questions prior. 

He sat back, pushing a stiff hand across the back of his mask before dropping his arm like it weighed a tonne. “Yes.” Lip pulled up as if he was uncertain in his own answer, eyes absently directed to the plant in the corner of the room. 

“You seem unsure.” 

He shook his head. “It’s different.” Although his voice hadn’t quite grasped confidence, instantly clearing his throat before sitting up precipitously to cement his statement. Kaufman’s silence invited more words from him, suddenly at a point of talkativeness to jump at his own defense of fatherhood. “I don’t take any of this home with me.” He gestured toward his gear, “It’s different.”

“Do they know the mask?” 

“They’ve seen it.” His sudden leer was one that assumed he had been tripped up, falling right into her fucking verbal minefield. 

“So Ghost does come home with you?” 

Bastard, Simon thought. “No.” A bite. 

Kaufman took a minute to think of her next question, one that would simultaneously calm him down while also wedging the door to his openness ajar just enough for her foot. “Do you look forward to taking the mask off?”

He shrugged, retreating back into a slouch. A short note was made of his action. “Possibly for the burden it carries?” She offered and Simon let out an audible groan, one that cut her short. 

“There isn’t a fucking burden.”

She observed as his hands clenched into fists under crossed arms, the impatient tapping of his heel against the vinyl flooring was something of another warning. “Are we okay to circle back to your family?” 

“Hmmh.” He mumbled an affirmative noise though his body language was completely closed off.

“Would you like to tell me about them?”

His foot stopped moving, leg stretching outward to cross his ankles over one another. “Depends what you ask me.” 

It was evident that Simon relied on guidance and instruction. Kaufman had gathered that much in the first ten minutes she had spent with him. The constant need for grounding and clarification was the first thing she noticed bar his body language, even when he had tried his best to seem contained.

“You can tell me as much or as little as you’d like.” She put it plainly, watching his eyes narrow and chewed down fingernails fidget against his belt loops. A flurry of thoughts intruded her mind at that, was he anxious at home? The bitten down nails said as much, evidently picked at without his mask on. 

“How are your kids?” 

“They’re fine.” He shrugged, setting his hand across the sofa edge. 

“Yeah?” Kaufman smiled, dotting her pen and Simon nodded, rubbing his brow momentarily before blinking at her lamely. “That’s good.”

Her wrist raised to check the time, an action Simon shifted at, eyes running to the door instantly. 

Though Kaufman took no eye to his impatience, writing a few notes before closing her book over, all at her own pace. “Time?” He asked readily, eagerly, bitten nails fidgeting with the loose seams of his jeans once again.

With a brief glance to her wrist, Kaufman gave him the go-ahead. “Yeah. Yeah, that’ll do us for today.” She was left watching pointedly as his shoulders dropped at her dismissal. “May I ask you one final question?” Her pen was placed back on the desk, in perfect adjacency to the mentioned notebook. 

“Hm.” A grumble. 

“Do you believe in therapy.”

His brows furrowed under the mask, already standing with a hand on the door to solidify her point. “No.” And with that came a nod of departure,  the words landing like an opinionated knife  — easy to slot in, hard to take out. 

Kaufman had her work cut out. 

≔ dude i want him. i want to fucking hug him and tell him everything will be ok wtf, this man being emotionally inept is my roman empire.

simon 'ghost' riley taglist: @vamppxncess @crowbird @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @local-spidey @konigsblog @penutjuice @babychoi03 @sheluvzeren @sparklingtragedy @maviee @wiserebelpartypie @daddylorianisastateofmind @bhayatsara @writingmysanity @johfaam0 @idkbbyx3 @gressseyy @shibble @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @airghostlyfox @hotgirlsshareaccounts @simpxinnie @cliosunshine @bloobewy @lazybutsmexy @iluvoaldmen @yyiikes @tieflingteatime @cosmoscoffee @lilvampirina @cinnabeanz @st4rluvrz @spencerreidisbae123 @paperbag-prncss @cookiecutta @sluttyforsimon @loveangelic

as always, comments and reblogs are mighty appreciated. thank you for being on the taglist too!

[m1d-45]

any chance of a part 2 of opportunities arisen? perhaps tighnari finds out who we are? or someone else comes after us? 👉👈 i love him sm and ur characterization of him is perfect, that fic is 100% canon in my mind for every imposter au now

prime fortune

a/n: hope this one didn’t absolutely destroy your expectations anon. it took a hard left turn halfway through and i couldn’t bring it back—

word count: 3.1k oh wow-

-> warnings: minor spoilers for sumeru archon quest (3.0-3.2), dubious medical facts that you should not follow, likely ooc cyno, excessive use of the word ‘something’ with little reasoning to show for it, cyno’s excellent humor

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie

<< part 1 || < masterlist >

adapting to life in the forest was easier said than done.

you’re often paired with collei, who’s in the middle of a bad eleazar flare that keeps her confined to the village, and though she teaches you the different salves and plants, a lot of it goes over your head.

you’re interested, you are! the liveliness with which she speaks, and the animated gestures from tighnari as he explains proper safety when preparing medicine easily capture your attention, but when she hands you two mushrooms and asks her to tell you which one is morchella….

by some strange luck, you often guess correctly, your intuition knowing more than you do, but when she nods with a smile and asks you to repeat the differences…

your mind falls blank.

something about the density of the fibers inside the mushroom floats through your mind, but you can’t remember whether the true or false mushroom is heavier.

collei’s smile falters, and yours turns sheepish. when she takes you out on walks, slowly walking up the paths so you don’t strain your ankle, you can point at the differences between portobello and death caps, you can pick out holly and honeysuckle and marigold, but here…

you pass the field practice with flying colors, but your basic by-the-books forest ranger tests always end in failure.

tighnari picks out two plants from a small case, holding them up in front of you.

“you come across amir sitting just off the side of a path, clutching his stomach. after some questioning, you determine he has a stomach cramp from dehydration, and spot these two plants nearby. you’re about a 15 minute walk from the village; what do you do?”

one of the plants has many flat white flowers blooming from the top, with yellow centers, while the other has orange petals that form a ball shape on top. you know one of them is yarrow, but not which one…

you pick the latter on a whim, spinning it between two fingers as you think. “pick the petals and crush them into a paste, taking care not to overwork them. give him about a spoonful, which should be most of it, then help him up. report to shirin once we return.”

the blank mask on his face falls into confusion. “how do you even mix up marigold and yarrow?” he asks, picking the flower—marigold, you now recognize—from your hand. “you got the procedure correct, at least, but marigold is bitter and will only worsen his aches. oh, and additionally, the leaves of yarrow—however small they-“

the door to the cottage slams open, jars rattling on their shelves, and tighnari whips around to face whoever it is, one hand steadying a stack of reports.

“and just what do you think you’re- w- collei? is everything alright?”

collei’s violet eyes were wide, her shoulders heaving with breath, when she spoke, exhaustion was evident. “m-master tighnari! the matra are here on behalf of the akademiya! i tried to tell them to wait so i could get you but they just-..”

emotions flashed over tighnari’s face faster than you could catch, eventually setting on a sharp determination. “alright collei, calm down. go find amir and do your best to delay them, but don’t seem too suspiscious, okay? just remember what we planned, i’ll take care of things here.”

her eyes flicked to you, worry evident, but she quickly turned away.

the moment the door closed, you and tighnari sprung into action. he collected the plants from your test and tucked them into their proper places, you standing to help return a mint plant back to its place.

he caught your wrist, taking the pot. “don’t. take your bag and go, don’t worry about this.”

you hesitate for longer than you should, then nod. he lets you go and returns to his case, and you move to crouch by the bed. feeling under it, your hand eventually brushes against a cloth handle, which you grab. you take a step to unlatch the window with one hand and sling the pack over your shoulder with the other, leaving with your good leg first. as you carefully close the window behind you, you can see tighnari moving to hide all the notes you’d taken, the only sign of his worry being his tail lashing behind him and the slightest flick of his ears.

with a soft smile, you turn away.

tighnari checked over his room once more, ensuring that every trace of your presence was scrubbed clean. your laundry was out and mixed with the rest of the rangers’, but your notes and records were carefully hidden under patrol logs and his own personal binders. he knew everything was tucked away, he had explanations lined up and answers to every conceivable question the akademiya could have, but his heart still beat frantically against his ribs. even as he pulled apart and neatened up a stack of patrol logs, repeating the action to look like he was doing something whenever the matra came to his hut, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he missed something crucial.

he had to fight to keep his tail from betraying his emotions, the energy not going into mussing up and then fixing the papers spent on hiding the symptoms of his distress. he knew he didn’t miss anything. the moment you told them the sages were on active lookout for you and he knew you weren’t a threat, he had memorized the plan. he was foolish to worry.

he hasn’t known you for long, barely over half a year, yet his mind is clouded with the same worry as when collei collapses out on patrol. the same numbing sort of adrenaline, the icy feeling in his bones even as his skin starts to burn up, the apprehension in every movement, as if at any moment-

somebody knocks on the door.

tighnari takes a steadying breath and fusses with the papers a final time. “come in!”

the door creaks open and he taps the papers on the table, turning slightly to speak over his shoulder. “sorry, you caught me in the middle of something.”

“no matter,” a familiar voice says, and he can’t stop the way his body freezes at the speaker.

he carefully tucked the papers into a folder, finally turning around. “general mahamatra. to what do i owe the honor?”

cyno crossed his arms, red eyes surveying the room. “oh, nothing at all. just somebody from vimara village reporting somebody that looked suspiciously like the primo fortuna walking around with collei when they’re supposed to be in liyue.”

tighnari stares. the primo fortuna…? he thought they were after you, but you couldn’t be…

“are… are you suggesting somebody is attempting to imitate the creator?”

sure, he wouldn’t deny you shared some features—you had the same shape of nose, you were around the same height and build—but for you to be the creator? no, it wasn’t possible. your eyes were much kinder, you stopped and helped nasrin when she couldn’t find the proper forms, you directed shirin to the area of the forest where you and collei found nilotpala lotuses, you were nothing like the creator he saw at pardis dhyai. you didn’t stare with glazed eyes as padisarahs and sumeru roses were brought forth, you listened in earnest when he spoke about the differences between the various kinds of ferns.

if anybody were to meet you, they’d know in an instant you were not the creator.

his heart itched within his chest. he ignored it as worry.

“that’s exactly what i’m implying. as i’m certain you know, their identity is hallowed, and anybody attempting to infringe upon it needs to meet justice.” the golden eye on his headpiece flashed, the sides beginning to narrow into eyes before he shook his head and it passed. “but in truth, that is not why i am here.”

tighnari stared. despite having a fondness for jokes, cyno was never one to laugh about his duties. “what do you mean? collei told me you were here on behalf of the akademiya.”

“the matra are here on behalf of the sages,” he clarified. “i… i am here for other reasons. personal ones.”

his eyes flicked around the room again, and tighnari’s narrowed. “well, don’t hide behind double meanings, then. what is it?”

cyno’s jaw flexed as he chewed at nothing, his arms uncrossing. his eyes focused somewhere around the bed, and he seemed lost in thought. whatever it was, it had to be a big deal, but for him to hijack the matra’s arrival instead of coming on his own time…

“the one on the throne is not our god.”

he said it with such conviction that tighnari found himself agreeing, waiting for whatever had gotten him worked up, and it was only when cyno’s eyes closed as he braced himself that it registered what he said.

“what?”

“i have gathered evidence across many sources, both academic and religious, common and exclusive, and i can’t bring myself to kneel at their feet any longer. i have been ignoring my own mind for too long for the sake of my conscience, and i am confiding in you now what has been brewing in my mind for months.”

in the silence that stretched, tighnari almost wished he hadn’t spoken.

the way he spoke, from his words to his tone, reminded tighnari of when he reported to the sages, like he wasn’t tighnari to him and was instead an authority.

“cyno, i don’t.. is this why you didn’t go when they were at pardis dhyai or sumeru city?”

he nodded. “i can’t be in a place where they’re being worshipped when i’m so conflicted. i thought about pulling you aside in the city, but…”

tighnari didn’t think he’d ever seen cyno so meek in his words, none of his normal power behind it. he’s… tired, a quality he knows he’s felt but has never seen on him, the almost nervous way he keeps glancing around the room edging on alarming.

“alright.. uh, moving past that for a moment, what does that have to do with why you’re in gandharva ville? wouldn’t you want to not be involved?”

cyno’s eyes dragged from where they were locked behind him with uncharacteristic slowness. “the person you’re hiding may be the real creator.”

the simplicity to his words had tighnari believing it, even as it didn’t fully register in his mind. he knew cyno attached a religious aspect to his work, to the point the people in sumeru city sometimes calling him an extension of their judgement—even as it was more like the akademiya’s, most time—so he knew that whatever he said on the topic was both well thought out and reliable.

which is why he was silent even after it clicked.

“what are you saying, cyno?”

“they’ve been staying here, haven’t they? in this room?”

“this is my and collei’s-“

“don’t tell me you haven’t been able to feel the difference in the air? the way it seems to flow slowly, lingering, like it has something to wait for? there’s no heavy blankets on the bed, and yet everybody else is talking of how cold the weather’s been lately.”

“that’s because this is an insulated room, and we’re right up against a cliff.”

the quick pace to his heart was back, this time less of worry and more of confusion. you couldn’t be the creator, not when you bore so little resemblance to the one on the throne. you were good at what you did, plants thriving under your care even if you forget to water them. call him selfish, but tighnari almost wished the creator could go back to wherever they’d been, since they’d been much kinder there, both to their vessels and the world.

you weren’t them. they weren’t even close to being you.

“you’re considering it.”

he crossed his arms, forcing himself to still. “i’ll admit—not that you didn’t already know it—that we have taken a refugee into the village, one the sages might call a criminal-“

“that’s not what i mean, tighnari, and you know it.”

“can you give me a minute? you can’t just drop a massive load of information on me like that and expect me to continue like it didn’t happen!”

“you’re reacting oddly.”

“well of course i am, you’re telling me the same person i took in and sheltered from your bosses is somebody you want to take away back to them, and that’s not even covering their injuries- they’ve barely been able to walk outside of the village, and you want to take them to the city?”

“when did i say anything about the sages?”

tighnari stopped, his chest heaving. his hands froze mid-air, his tail still flicking in a mix of irritation and stress, thoughts moving quicker than he could understand them.

“what?”

“i never said anything about the sages. i never said i would take them.”

“w- well it’s implied, if not in your words then-“

“i don’t deal in implications. you know this.”

he did.

he knew cyno. he knew how he spoke and acted, he knew that the small emotion in his eyes was indicative of empathy and not ruthless justice. he knew he held reasoning in high standards, he knew that if he stopped and thought about the words coming from his mouth then he would agree.

but he couldn’t think.

all of his usual composure had faltered and faded, leaving him grasping for a hold as his thoughts swam like a raging river around him, even standing a struggle amidst the tide. all he could do was watch, his head racing and hands shaking, as cyno stood on the bank of rationality, with his crossed arms and cool eyes that dared him to step forward and sink beneath the waves.

he had no real reason to fear so much for you. by now you were gone, by now you were safe and far past the statue of the seven by the chasm, hidden in a place where even cyno would struggle to find you. you were crafty, clever, and you had more than enough supplies to last until he could go to find you.

he had no reason to be afraid.

yet his heart still raced a rhythm he couldn’t follow, his mind tripping and skipping with worry.

why?

his tail wrapped around his side and he picked out a cluster of petals from it, mostly just to give his hands something to do.

as he did, he noticed it was a full flower, likely knocked off one of the samples on the desk. it was small, blue, with smooth petals, and he recognized it after a moment’s pause.

“this is a hydrangea. what is it used for?”

the flower quivered in your shaking hands. “root and stem are for… for medicine. petals are tea.”

collei nodded, smiling brightly. “exactly! you’re a quick learner, aren’t you?”

you smiled sheepishly, trying to hand her back the flower, but collei held up a hand, closing her pack with her other hand.

“no, you keep it. take it as a congratulations for all your progress!”

you were hesitant to accept it, that much was clear, and tighnari tied off the small parcel in his hands before speaking.

“you really have done well. you’ve only been here for a few weeks, but you’ve learned a lot.” he set down the packed herbs beside where he was leaning on the table, directing all of his attention to you. “i know it’s mostly for safety, and you’re not going to be a ranger-“ too much paperwork was required, he couldn’t risk it “-but still. i’m proud of you.”

you smiled.

it likely wasn’t the same flower—that ‘class’ was months ago, now—but it dragged a realization to the surface of his mind.

in the short, fleeting time he’d known you, he had come to care for you as he did collei.

even then, only after a week or two of you being there, a certain fondness had taken root in his chest. something bright, something that bloomed like a rose yet without any of the thorns. something that he watered every time you winced when you walked, something you fostered when you helped treat collei’s eleazar when he was out clearing a withering zone.

something that grew as he realized the poultice you had made had helped clear the pain faster than anything he’d made, even as you both used the same recipe, something that lashed out when kamran questioned your place in the village. something that spurred him to action when he thought you were in trouble, even if it was only cyno.

something that burned bright, something hot that blurred his reasoning even when he knew it was wrong, something that made him want to bare his teeth and keep you safe by his side.

something that should be impossible for him to feel towards you, as it was a golden and warm feeling that did not exist in teyvat, only ever glimpsed at altars.

tighnari looked up from the flower and into cyno’s knowing eyes.

“alright.”

relief washed onto his face, a small nod the only other sign that he’d heard.

“i’ll report nothing to the team—i trust you’ve gone over this, given your reaction?”

he let the comment slide. “yes, everybody here knows what to do in the case of the akademiya or the millelith coming here. it was collei’s idea, actually, and she took care to make sure that everybody had it memorized.”

cyno nodded, taking a step towards the door. “good. and if you ever need to collei matra, just get me instead.”

“…”

“do you get-?”

“i got it, cyno.”

[justjams2003]

Fast Pace- 8

Summary: You're a hard-working Chef in Paris and after a freak accident run-in with Carlos Sainz, your life makes a 180. Let's just say with a certain agreement, you get your bills paid and in return stand in as Carlos' girlfriend for the press. But will you be able to handle the pressure and ensure the lines don't blur?

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Carlos Sainz x Sugar Baby!Reader

Warnings: I've aged up Carlos, he is 33 in this fic. Smoking, smut, sexual themes, age difference, manipulation, control, slight obsession, the word 'daddy', tell me if I missed any

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics and @s-silk

Taglist: @httpjeonlicious, @f1lov3r, @messersandmesses, @hollie911, @oriconde08 @thehufflepuffavenger1 @fanboyluvr @thatgirlmj @whyamireadingthis @oriconde08 @depressedriches @roseseraj @skepvids @sain55wifey @distinguishedvoidlady @amatswimming @sachaa-ff @lightdragonrayne @lazybot @dark-night-sky-99 @formula1mount @fangirl-dot-com @saintslewis

Word count: 3,2k

Masterlist

Part 7~Part 9 (coming soon)

He likely doesn’t even realise you’re awake. Not that you mind, after all, he’d just gotten out from the shower. His finely cut muscles, like the David statue, has water running down from the top of his broad shoulders all the way down to his v-line. That towel hangs incredibly low and every time he moves it threatens to fall.  

He stands in front of the closet, trying to decide what to wear. “Are you enjoying the show?” His voice is rough, you can see his eyes slide over to you, and a huge blush coats your cheeks. On instinct you pull the covers up to hide your face. He tsks and walks over to you, and lightly pulls down the sheets. “Didn’t I tell you not to hide your face from me?”  

You giggle, “You look quite handsome for an old man.” He groans and rolls his eyes. “¿Qué voy a hacer contigo?” You hum as a reply, “I like it when you talk Spanish to me.” You use his own words against him. He shakes his and grabs some clothes from the closet. “Go get ready, dormilona.”  

You sigh and push the sheets to the side. “Why, anything particular planned for today?” You ask watching each reaction. “Oh yeah, you have big plans for today. Me? I have nothing but boring meetings and practising.” He shrugs, pulling the shirt over his head. “Poor thing, are you sure I can’t company you?” You ask, holding out your hand for him to take, still sitting like a princess on the bed.  

He does just that, gently caressing your knuckles. “No, mi niña bonita. You’re in Italy, I want you to enjoy it. Plus, I have a surprise for you.” He winks, shooing you out the bed only for you to return soon after wearing a matching set. Light white linen, short button up top and short skirt with a comfortable pair of flats. Of course, with your new Prada bag close by.  

“Wow, wow, wow, don’t you look beautiful?” He says, taking your hand and allowing you to spin, before he slowly places kisses all the way up your arm to your shoulder. Your hair is pulled up with the claw clip he got you, leaving clear space for his lips to find a home there. “Deberías ser adorado. Debería haber santuarios y estatuas en tu nombre. Me aseguraré de que seas un Sainz, para que los que me aman, te amen aún más.” 

You furrow your brows, “You speak words that I cannot understand but your eyes say so much more than your mouth ever will.” It’s true, he looks to be madly in love, obsessed even. His eyes fall on your frame as if he is seeing a god for the first time. His eyes go from chocolate brown to that of a pitch-black night. Stars in his eyes.  

“You will understand, soon enough,” he winks and then asks, “Do you have everything?” You smile and nod, opening your back only to see your phone and some lip-gloss. Your wallet is their too, but inside is only your ID, your driver's licence and a credit card you haven’t used in two weeks now.  

“Good.” Then he takes your hand in his and to you, you’re only thinking you’re going for a walk, for breakfast. Yet, when you exit the hotel, you can see just what Carlos meant when he said the Ferrari fans go big. They’re surrounding the hotel, there were fans yesterday too, but you can only assume the closer it gets to the weekend the more there will be.  

“Keep your head down.” He says, pulling out his sunglasses and in one smooth move puts them on. He seems like someone else entirely. His demeanour is different. His hand is wrapped around your waist, his grip firm and even tight. His jaw is locked tight, and his whole personality is so much suaver.  

It does something to you, the way he takes control. Guides you through the crowd, still waving and giving attention to the fans but at the same time he is untouchable. And now, you are too. Cameras are flashing and people are screaming his name...and yours too. It sends a thrill down your spine and instead of keeping your head low like he said, you keep your head high.  

Carlos guides you into the car, and still careful of the people, he drives off. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears. A bright smile is smeared on your face. “What are you smiling about, chica guapa?” He asks, his hands smooth on the gear box. The way he sits back on the chair is something you could watch forever and ever.  

“That was so cool, you were so cool, I felt so cool. Appelez cela un rêve appelé vrai.” You sigh, stabilizing your beating heart by fixing your hair. “You enjoy that?” His dark brows knot and you nod with a bright smile. “Don’t you?” This is part of his job; doesn't he love his job?  

He shakes his head, “I really do appreciate the fans but sometimes eh…” You can't help but let your mouth hang open in shock. He raises his brow at you. “Carlos. Those people out there make your career. You're the only way that they might ever get a taste of the life. They live through you. I find it thrilling,” you explain, and it does seem to have made an impact on him.  

“Like, back home, idols are an escape from reality. Seeing these people on, living the life you can only dream of, makes you hopeful that maybe someday you could be them. It might never happen for some, but even then, it helps you get out of the bed in the morning.” Like always he’s hanging onto your every word.  

He pulls up to a really fancy looking car shop. Luxury vehicles you can only ever dream of displayed in all sorts of ways. The people who work here greet you both with utmost respect, they too look for anything they can do for you. You can't help but look around, taking in the beauty of some of these cars. Hand crafted leather seats expertly painted and worked on for years.  

“You like?” Carlos asks, his hand falling on the curve of your waist. You noticed it instantly, after last night his touches have become more frequent. Not that you mind, in fact each time he places a kiss on your shoulder, or grabs your hand, you can feel the lightning course through you. The power of a thousand horses making their way through your stomach.  

“My dad would go crazy.” You mutter, thinking of all the times your father would call out the exact name and model of a car as you passed. “But do you like it?” Carlos' brows furrow, you can see he worries and can tell he was excited to show you. “Of course, it just feels so crazy. I never thought in a million years I could ever even be this close to the cars I see on my feed all the time.” You mutter, your hand on his chest as you take it all in.  

He smirks, “Pick one.” His words are so simple and easy. You'd think he's asking you to say if you wanted chicken or beef. “Pick one?” The words fall from your mouth and feel like a thousand butterflies on your tongue. He nods, “Any one, I'll rent it for the day or even the whole week if you wanted.” He shrugs, also gazing at all the magnificent cars.  

He lets go, allowing to roam and decide which one. Then you spot it, in the very back of the show room. You don't know the name, the model or anything important. You just know, this is the one. “Ahh, yes, the Ferrari R8 Spider.” The front man begins speaking, listing off all the special features but you're not listening. All you see are hearts and stars.  

“This one?” You can call out his deep voice and accent out of a million voices. “Yes, I don't need to see any other one.” You beam up at him and you can see he too is excited about it. “Should've known you'd always find the Ferrari,” you nod, appreciating each and every grove of the car.  

While the people set up all the paperwork, Carlos pulls you to the side. He pulls out his wallet and then hands you his Black Amex card. “What's this?” You ask him, holding the card gently as if you're cradling a baby. “You've never seen one before?” He asks, his brows pulled together but still teasing. “I want you to go to Milan and shop your heart out. No limit.” He sends you a wink and you feel your knees grow weak.  

“You can't be serious.” The words are like lead on your tongue. What on earth is he doing? “Of course, why would I joke?” He's dead serious. Carlos is dead serious about this. “No limit?” You ask one more time just to make sure you didn't hear wrong. “There are two conditions.” You nod, not even caring if he says you have to go down on your knees.  

“Otis and Brutis stay with you at all times.” He then points his thumb to the two massive bodyguards waiting just outside the shop. A whine escapes your mouth, and you push out your bottom lip more than ever before. “No, they're such a drag.” You whine, grabbing onto his polo shirt. “They will follow you, wherever you go.” His voice is stern but still you fight.  

You know that it's for your safety, but you can't help but feel like a criminal. Someone who should be watched at all times, like you're being babysat. A thought plays in your mind, the perfect way to get him to change his mind. “Daddy, please don't make me take those oafs with.” You give him your best puppy eyes, the word now feeling much more comfortable on your tongue.  

His reaction is priceless. You can see the internal struggle in his mind. His hand reaches up, gently caressing your lips, you can see he so wants you. “Fuck…” a glimmer of hope, his resolve seems to have cracked. That sure was easy. “No, absolutely none-negotiable. They stay with you at all times.” Perhaps you are a child, because right now you feel like throwing a tantrum.  

“But you said-” he laughs, and interrupts you. “As much as that word coming from you, makes me want to fuck you right here on the display floor, it doesn't mean you automatically get what you want. Manners are good from a cosita dulce like you, but your safety always come first.” No wonder his eyes are stormy like that. You're certain that your panties are as wet as can be and that you're red like a tomato.  

He can tell you're left speechless and continued with his conditions. “Be back before dinner, and I want a fashion show when I get home.” With that, he pulls you close, placing a kiss on your forehead and then proceeds to pay the deposit for the car rental. Leaving you a soaked mess, absolutely hungry for his bones. You will get him back for that. 

Us Weekly: 

“Carlos Sainz and his girlfriend and his girlfriend spotted outside the Hotel de la Villa.”  

Glamour: 

“Carlos Sainz’ girlfriend spotted driving a Ferrari in Milan.”  

Mirror:  

“Y/N Y/S/N spotted spending big in Milan.”  

30 000 Dollars. The excitement to see her in that 30 000 made me rock hard all day. Some of them she posted on her story, which I keep track of religiously. But I know for a fact that that couldn’t be all of it. I saw the news articles; it gave me a great sense of pride seeing them finally call her by her name and not just as my girl.  

I made sure to make is home as quick as possibly, though, I don’t find her in her room or even mine. That is until, I ask the guards.  

The sight is truly delicious. It makes me disgusted by the pure amount of clothes I’m wearing, or the fact that these two idiots even dare look or be around her. Her arms are hanging lazily onto the side of the hot tub, her eyes staring out at the view of Italy. But the bikini she’s wearing should be illegal.  

It’s bright red, with delicate knots holding the thing together. One small tug and it will fall right off. Her body is so soft, her curves fill the bikini perfectly. Her hair in one of the claw clips that I bought her, messy and lazily done. Some of her locks falling out of place, making her neck look so ready to be kissed. Her waist curves and I just want to rip the damn thing off. 

“Leave,” my voice is stern and deeper than I thought it would be. She turns by the sound of my voice, and lightly treads her way to me. A huge looking cocktail in one hand, more than half empty. “Bonjour mon Carlito,” she winks at me, and I groan at her words. Where did she hear that, or is it the alcohol speaking?  

I bend down next to the hot tub. “Hola, mi niña bonita.” Her cheeks go red, “How many of these have you had?” I ask, referring to the mixed cocktail. She shrugs, “This is the first, but the night is still young.” I tsk and shake my head. “You know the deal, niña pequeña,” she whines and pushes out her bottom lip.  

I tsk and shake my head. “In any case, you have to show me what you got.” My finger gently caresses her cheek. After the night that she joined me in the bed, everything changes. Clearly, she is ready for more. Ready for the next step, even just a small one. More touches, more kisses on her cheek or her neck. Perhaps even a week or two from now, a kiss on the lips.  

Again, she pouts. My fingers find that bottom lip of her, if I kiss her now, there will be no wait. “Daddy, please come join me.” How on earth could I ever say no to eyes like that. That beg and plead and want. Those eyes that I could never in a million years say no to. I gently place a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll go change.” A wide smile covers her lips and her eyes sparkle.  

I’m quick, not even 5 minutes. The bubbles are a nice temperature, no hotter than the weather but no colder than 26 degrees Celsius. My hands instantly find her waist, she’s gazing at the view again. You can see the towns and people and far away mountains and farmlands. I don’t care about any of that.  

All I can think about is the feeling of her waist under my hand. Her back against my chest, the rhythmic rise and fall of her breath. The sweet, sweet smell of her. Sickly sweet ripe berries, hot honey on the tongue and home. She’d be such a good mother, if she and I... then she’d never be able to leave me.  

“What are you thinking about?” Her voice is like angels in my ears. I tuck a stray strand of her hair behind her ear, mostly just to feel her down-like skin. “You, I’m always thinking about you.” Her cheeks are pink but still a smirk is on her face. “You get this faraway look, somewhere special where I can’t possibly be.”  

I can only shake my head at her conclusion. “No, mi amor, you are my special place.” She giggles, the sound of fairies being born. “I’ve seen the interviews, years before we met you still have the same other dimension look.” She looks to chuff with herself. “That’s because I’ve been dreaming of someone like you since forever.”  

She laughs out loud, her head falling back and her drink almost tipping over. “You’re smooth, Mr Sainz.” Her words are music to my ears. The urge to kiss her is so strong. Instead, I make do with the sweet spot on her collarbone. “They do call me the smooth operator.” She rolls her eyes at me. “Full of yourself, aren’t you?”  

“How can’t I be, with such a beautiful lady sharing a hot tub with me. In the tiniest bikini might I add.” She hums and then does a slight turn, the water gracefully spinning around her. “You like?” Do I like? “Fucking hell, chica bebé, I’m struggling to keep my hands off of you.” Then her eyes turn to that of a siren.  

“Why do you keep your hands to yourself?” Her tone is begging, a slight whimper in her voice. She might have had only one drink, but her tolerance must be low. Then her hands begin to roam my body. Her touch is like fire, lighting on my body and my loins ablaze. A groan leaves my mouth, the self-control is unbearable when her big doe eyes go sultry like that.  

Her hands make delicate contact with my stomach, pushing her chest against mine. She looks up at me through her lashes, a temptress that should be locked up. “Why won’t you touch me?” She takes my hand, so small in comparison and places it on her ass. “Why won’t you kiss me?” She lifts her chin, her lips mere millimetres from mine.  

“Fucking hell, chica bebé, you are my weakness. Do not think for a moment that I don’t want to bury my cock deep into that warm cunt of yours. If I had it my way, I’d have you right here, right now. You’d never even leave the bed and be covered in marks of my making.” My words cause a whimper to leave her mouth, needy and wanting more than ever.  

“Then why deny yourself?” Now it’s my turn, I use both my hands and shove her up against the wall. My knees press up against the little amount of fabric that hides that sweet pussy of hers. My head right down against her ear. Kissing and nipping. Leaving purple marks against her neck. Fuck, I promised myself I wouldn’t do that until much later.  

I just can’t control myself when her legs wrap around my waist, the water splashes over the edge. Her arms pull me closer. “Because I like seeing you beg. I like hearing your pitiful whines as you beg me to fuck you, like the whore we both know you are. I’ve already given you so much and yet you still want more.”  

Her tender finger pull on my hair, now her lips are by my ear. “Please, daddy, please just use me already.” A deep chuckle escapes me. “See? So needy. But you see, mi pequeño, I can’t give you everything you want all at once. It’ll leave you ungrateful. And I don’t tolerate brats. I’m going to leave you wanting and needy. I’ll make the tension so much you’ll want me just as much as I need you.”  

My taglist is open, just ask!

[goldyeokki]

𝟏𝟎 𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺 𝑰 𝑯𝑨𝑻𝑬 𝑨𝑩𝑶𝑼𝑻 𝒀𝑶𝑼: 𝑩𝑶𝑵𝑼𝑺

꒰ ♡ ꒱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: hyuck and his lip ring; multiple orgasms; overstimulation; oral (reader receiving)

꒰ ♡ ꒱ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 465 words

꒰ 💬 ꒱ 𝐇𝐔𝐀'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄. i'm still not ready to say goodbye to the fic just yet so here i am with a mini socmed bonus for all of you lovely people and to celebrate 500 notes on the first installation (ㅅ´ ˘ `) here's a little sneak peek of mc and hyuckie's adventures as a couple after the events of the story ଘ꒰⑅ ´ ˘ ` ⑅ ꒱♡ the edit of hyuck with his lip ring was made by me! pls do not steal thank u!!

everything feels hot and dizzying all at once. from hyuck’s tongue massaging your tight walls and his cool lip ring bumping near your rim to his firm hands gently caressing your plush thighs, you’re left gasping for air as you brace yourself against the headboard. it’s difficult to keep your eyes on him when every gentle nudge of his nose against your clit makes your head spin.

“hyuckie . . .” you whine behind your hand clamped down on your mouth. his dark brows furrow and he smacks his open palm flat against the curve of your ass. a sharp jolt of both pain and pleasure sends a shockwave straight to your core, clenching down around him as you force both of your hands against the headboard. it’s a warning to not hide your moans from him—he absolutely loves it when you’re loud for him and he makes sure to remind you every chance he gets. “hyuck, i don’t wanna– fuck, lemme cum on your cock, fuck–!”

you don’t know if it’s the gloss of your juices on his glasses or your brain hazing from your past three orgasms but his eyes are glinting maliciously in the honeyed light that illuminates your room.

before you can register anything, your back is flat against the bed and hyuck is still on top, but he’s maintaining his favourite position: between your legs. your head tips back as he slides two digits in easily. the mix of hot and cold of his body heat and the rings he’s wearing effortlessly pull a long drag of his name, your walls tightening around him so dangerously.

“baby, baby,” he tuts, shaking his head. you whine and look back at him through a barely blurry vision from the tears that threaten to form. “i’m only just starting my fun with you. let’s get you to . . . hm, six orgasms!”

“hyuck!” your cry, while it is in half-protest at the prospect of more, it’s also thanks to him pressing his thumb against your throbbing clit. “please, just– give me your cock, i need you so bad.”

his tongue swipes across his plump lips, silver lip ring shining in your essence. his glasses are evidently stained with dried-up residue of your cum, juices, and more, but he still doesn’t take them off. you doubt he’s going to remove his glasses any time soon.

“i’ll never get tired of hearing you beg, baby,” he groans. hyuck leans forward to give you a soft kiss, easing a third finger into you and you moan into him. curling his fingers into a gentle hook, he starts fucking his digits into you faster, angling his wrist higher so he can brush against the spot that’ll have you seeing stars. “beg for me some more? y’sound so fucking pretty when you do.”

the taglist for the series BEFORE THE LAST FLOWER BLOOMS is still open!

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[huramuna]

beware the sapphire peak - chapter 3, end.

aemond targaryen x wife reader x alys rivers a period piece, set in 1902.

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wordcount: 3.7k

you're a young, american lady who is an aspiring author. you are wooed by a mysterious and charming savant from england. swept off your feet, you're whisked away to his family's ancient estate, Dragonstone Hall. but with all stories, secrets are hiding around every corner, and your suitor is no different.a crimson peak inspired mini series.

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings!i don't do taglists right now, so sorry!

content: smut (specifics below cut), angst, gaslighting, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, alys in her girlboss gatekeep gaslight era, no use of y/n, afab reader, pre-established alysmond, this isn't going where you think it is (it might be), infidelity-ish, polyamory, mentions of infertility, murder, depictions of murder/violence, pregnancy

moonlight sonata - beethoven • nocturne in e-flat major, op. 9, no. 2 - chopin

warnings: p in v, face sitting, come eating i guess!, breeding kink

So sweet– she had tasted so sweet to you, like the most saccharine, tooth rotting, sugary treat you’d ever had. A taste that you could get lost in for eons, grasping at the surface that threatened to pull you under, deeper, deeper… until darkness consumed you– and you could only taste her. 

Alys murmured something to you as your mind went fuzzy with panic. What would Aemond think? What would happen now? Would he divorce you? Would he fire Alys? 

Your hands shook slightly, a tingling and eventual numbing feeling coming to your lips, spreading throughout your extremities. Everything was in slow motion, the vision of Alys blurred through tears. “A-Alys,” you croaked. “I-I don’t know what just happened— I-I’m sorry.” 

“Oh, don’t cry, my sweet puppy,” she cooed, upon you again, her scent all consuming and overwhelming and you wanted to kiss her again. “It’s natural.”

“N-Natural?” you whimpered, eyes still misty.

“Yes,” Alys breathed, petting your head. “You know, male lions usually have a few lionesses in their pride— and the lionesses are known to take great affections with each other, too. ‘Tis only natural, to seek the comforts of ones who comfort you.” 

You sniffed, not really understanding what she was saying. The numbness was spreading, your head spinning and feeling like a hive of bees had taken host in your cranium. “I-I don’t… I don’t feel well…” you managed to whisper, clinging to the older woman as you lost feeling in your limbs, an acute pins-and-needles type pain steepling into your flesh, tapering off into icy splinters. 

Now, you saw nothing but darkness, only hearing the hushed whispers of someone faraway. 

You were dreaming now, you were sure— as you walked through the halls, feeling light as a feather. Your hand dragged along the stair bannister, nails tapping to a rhythmic tune that you could hardly recollect. It felt as if you were outside of your body in a slightly pastel toned version of the real world, a skewed view of what was actually real. The shade of carpet was off hue, a lighter, rosy red than it actually was, the accompanying curtains a complimentary shade of pink, when in reality, they were deep crimson. 

Your steps felt effortless, a spring in your step like a young fawn who’d figured out how to use its legs, jaunting through the corridors with ease. You enjoyed your lovely pastel dream world, until you turned and saw the very end of the foyer. 

It was dark, the light sucked out of it like it’d been erased, consumed— a familiar sight of inky black tendrils beckoned from the end of the hall, your feet moving on their own accord now. Your brain, feeling very much like prey, screamed at you. Threat, threat— run, run, run! But you couldn’t, you couldn’t turn, nor abscond. Getting closer, there was an eerie hum, like many voices converging together into a cacophony— you recognized it, fear settling into your bones. It was a dirge. 

Pleasepleaseplease, don’t make me, don’t make me. Save me, save me.

The siren song lured you closer, until you were swallowed by the darkness itself, falling, falling… 

“We are you, Lady Targaryen.” 

“You shan’t leave this place.” 

“You will be trapped and rotted like us.” 

“You’ve fallen for their ruse. A fatal mistake.” 

The fall felt neverending, the breath stolen from your lungs until they felt like shriveled raisins. Hands grabbed at your body greedily, pulling you under the surface as water replaced oxygen in your body– you gasped out, screaming, but no sound came, your arms wouldn’t move, as if they were stuck in molasses.

Other voices permeated your being, familiar ones. They brought a little comfort, but you could only discern bits and pieces of what they were whispering, chattering around you. 

“— used too much, Alys—,”

“— she is perfect—,” 

“— needs to wake up before—,”

Your consciousness, your real life felt so far away now, as your hands reached out to buffet the impact of your fall into the void… you could almost feel the sickly crunch of your ligaments being broken as you kissed the loam, into a darling embrace of nothingness.

You crashed to the ground, body strewn and broken like a porcelain doll– broken, shattered, thrown away. Trapped.

Sitting up from the bed, your bed, you were drenched in sweat. Oxygen ballooned in your lungs with a sharp, audible inhale as you looked around, eyes wide like a newborn fawn, once again. You zeroed in on Aemond, who was sitting in the corner of the room in the reading chair, one leg crossed over another, bobbing with anxiety. Alys was there, too, off to the opposite side of the chamber, fiddling with something on the desk. Her hair, usually well mannered and groomed, was slightly strewn in a loose bun.

The sound of your gasp caused them to be at your side in an instant, one on either side of the bed. Aemond’s hand was entwined with yours instantly.

“Thank God, she’s finally awake,” he murmured, shooting Alys a quick glance, brow furrowed.

“Oh, darling,” Alys cooed, “You took quite a spill in the bathroom– Lord Targaryen found you with a nasty head wound.”

Fell? When did you fall? With a shaky hand, your fingers skimmed the outline of cloth pressed to your forehead– you winced, a sharp intake of breath hissing through your teeth, it was tender to the touch. “When… how long have I been… unconscious for?”

“Five days.” Aemond responded, his leg still shaking as he pulled up the chair, sitting back down in it promptly. 

You felt bewildered by that– five days? Five days you’d been asleep– and your dreams felt like only a moment and an eternity. The distress must’ve clearly read on your face, as Aemond squeezed your hand. You glanced over to him, lines of worry etched into his brow and beyond. He had dark circles under his eyes, likely from lack of sleep. He was, overall, disheveled, a look you hadn’t quite seen on him. You swallowed, your mouth suddenly cloying and full of cotton. 

Alys nudged you, a spoon in her hand. She had soup– when did she leave? – offering it, intent on feeding you like a mere babe. Curling into yourself inwardly, you shook your head. “... m’ fine, I can… I can do it,” you offered, suddenly feeling extremely aware of the heavy mood of the room. They had fretted over you for days, for an accident you likely caused yourself. 

“Come, dear,” Alys urged. “‘Tis wild rice in a nice bone broth.” 

Your indignant streak ended quickly as your stomach audibly growled at the sound of the food. Mustering down your shame, you sipped at the soup, allowing Alys to spoon feed you. Aemond had a faraway look in his eye as he stared at the pair of you.

–

Your recovery was slow and meticulous– you had fractured your leg from your fall, as well as having some nasty bruises on your hip, the purple red hue blooming under your skin like ink from a tipped over inkwell. 

You were utterly dependent on Alys and Aemond as they nursed you back to health, hand feeding you, bathing you, carrying you down stairs– and you let them. You melded into their touch, becoming one with them and they handled you like extensions of themselves, gentle and loving, as not to hurt you any further.

Your head wasn’t completely clear, though– even a whole month and a half after your accident, you still felt like a teddy, stuffed full of wool and hardly sentient. Alys laid you down in the bathtub, the same one you’d knocked your head against apparently, the water warm. It washed over you in waves, heat sinking into your bones and quelling the urge you had to scream, to run– to do anything. The scent of lavender filled your nose as she poured floral oils into the water. 

Aemond was behind her, watching carefully. He was always there, no matter the situation, looming. He was adjusting his shirt cuffs idly, over and over in an anxious habit. He had quite a lot of those, you had noted. Now that you were almost always by his side, you watched him constantly, taking in those little habits. Jaw clenching, eye twitching, rubbing his fingers together, bouncing his leg. Not only those, but he constantly looked to Alys, as if they were communicating with their eyes alone. 

You wondered what they were saying, as they met gazes and then looked back to you in sync while you were in the bath, nude as the day you were born. You pulled your legs up to your chest, suddenly feeling self-conscious as they both bore into you, regarding you unabashedly, orbs roving over your figure. Pressing your chin to your knees, you looked past them, the glint of their scrutiny in your peripheral now. There was someone behind them.

Bloody and crooked, dripping water and essence of life, her body bloated and putrid. Her hair was blonde, at one point, at least– it was now a murky gray, stained pinkish with only the notion of its former color peeking through. Her eyes were dark, never ending holes– it was like looking straight into the void itself. Her throat was slashed, leaking the same black ichor that was in your dreams while you were incapacitated. Heavy breathing, jagged and errant, like a broken key on a piano, drowned out the chatter between Aemond and Alys. Her hand, spindly and wretched, squeezed on the frame of the bathroom door as she perched upon it, unable to stand upon the weight of broken, splintered legs. 

“You. Won’t. Live.”

The person you were before your accident might have choked, sobbed– but you were good acquaintances now with the ghosts of the estate, and their never ending threats and prophecy. Your eyes glazed over, a peeved grunt coming from you. “Go away.” you muttered. You were sick of seeing their faces, hiding in plain sight, always leering at you from afar with their grotesque visages.

“What?” Alys asked, taking her hands out of the water and peering at you curiously.

“... may I bathe alone, please?” you sighed, wishing for one moment of peace and quiet and aloneness.

Alys looked back at Aemond and they shared that unspoken connection once again. He nodded slightly, minutely. He didn’t even say anything– he didn’t say much since your accident, leaning on Alys to be his voice. He clenched his jaw, as he does, and left the room. 

Alys planted a kiss on your brow– the sweetness of her perfume felt familiar– and she departed, closing the door. As she left, you reflected on the state of your life. You felt like less than a person, moreso a doll. You didn’t remember falling, and you remembered… kissing Alys. Hardly, it was like a memory fluttering away on a breeze now, but the feeling of it was still there. It flooded back in your mind as you had drank in the scent of her when she got close, your stomach turning into a horde of butterflies. Was that even real? Or was it a figment of your damaged brain, painting a pretty picture for you while you were in a state of stupefaction.

It had to have been an illusion. Surely. 

You supplanted your hand on the lip of the tub after soaking for at least three hours– the water was cold now, turning your slightly warmed stupor into ice. You had hardly walked on your own these past few weeks, and when attempting to, held up by Alys or Aemond. Pulling yourself up with the little strength you had, you stood up. Your legs shook, but eventually found their own as you tested your luck further. One foot on the floor, then the other, toes splayed and wiggling as they touched the cool floor. Something akin to elation came to your chest as you stomped, hiding a tiny giggle. How childish you felt now– but not as bad as you’ve felt during your recovery. You felt less than a child then, moreso a barely living organism, attached to the hip of Aly or Aemond, solely dependent on their care of you.

You grabbed the robe left on the privy lid, snugging it to your form– you considered keeping it untied, to rove around the estate free of inhibition, just because you could. But, you decided against it, tying it taut around your waist. You went to leave, hand hesitating as you went to touch the knob, remembering something… something like a shock touching your hand from before. Shock be damned, you turned the knob. No prick of electricity followed, and you were free. 

Leaving wet footprints on the wood floors, you saw the halls in a new light. ‘Twas no pretty pastel painting, but it was familiar and real. You hummed along, hand tracing the bannister like you had when you dreamt. The estate was very quiet, not even a sound emitting besides the little pitter-patter of your feet– where had Aemond and Alys gone? Surely, with the length they’d kept you, they hadn’t gone far? 

As you descended down one of the far halls you usually did not venture to, namely the Servant’s Quarters, where Alys resided, your ears pricked up to pick up a noise. Like the faraway call of an owl, deep and throaty, you could only hear, feel, the bass of it– it only got louder as you got closer to her room, the door ajar, cracked… 

Peering in, your heart momentarily stopped, breath caught in your windpipe. Alys and Aemond were upon her bed, the top three buttons of her shirt undone. You could see the swell of her breast, heaving as she mouthed Aemond’s bare neck, his tie undone slightly from its spot on his collar, but done tighter just below his Adam’s apple in… a makeshift collar, almost. The older woman pulled on it with one hand, her other down… down… to Aemond’s weeping cock. She massaged it, her hand glistening with his arousal. His face was that of pure bliss and servitude, falling apart in her hand, with her lips against his skin, whispering. 

A gasp fell from your lips and they peered up at you. Aemond’s face turned to that of horror– but Alys’ didn’t change. Her lips just perked into a further smile. “Come in, little one,” she hummed.

Against better judgment, or any judgment really, you opened the door further. Your still wet hair was stuck to your face slightly, peering up at them both through fettered lashes. You should be in hysterics, you should be crying, screaming, cursing, damning them both to hell for– for… this. But, you were doing none of that. You felt… placid, like calm water. 

Alys beckoned you closer. “See, Aemond?” she practically purred, nosing his cheek while offering her hand to you. “I told you, she was perfect.”

“My love,” Aemond croaked. “Are… you well?” 

That was the question of the year, wasn’t it? Were you well? You blinked slowly, mulling it over in your mind. “No. I’m not,” you responded, taking Alys’ hand in your own. “But, I am alright with that. We are all… unwell in our own ways.” 

“So insightful, my little puppy,” Alys pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your cheek. Your mind and soul were utterly enraptured by her. “She knows how to share, don’t you, sweet puppy?” she side-eyed Aemond. “The others didn’t know how to share, did they– so greedy, they were. Not like you,” she spoke of you so reverently, with a honeyed warmth in her voice you just wanted to melt into. 

Your heart was thumping at the sheer taboo of the situation, but you were excited– Alys tugged at your robe slightly, exposing your breasts to the cold air, your nipples pebbling into pert little peaks instantly. She let go of Aemond’s shaft, her hand wetted still with his excitement, offering you two fingers. She didn’t even have to say anything, you just opened your mouth as she rested those digits on your tongue, and you sucked on them eagerly. 

Aemond, all the while, was slightly aghast at it– and even more, aroused. His blood felt like it was on fire as his hand reached out to caress your nipple like he always had before, between his fore and middle finger. You whimpered around Alys’ fingers before she withdrew them, smearing your lips with your own saliva. 

“I’m so happy, my love,” Alys seemed to be addressing both you and Aemond, as she pulled you onto the bed between them, her fingers drawing little circles upon your bare thighs as your robe rode up. “We’ve waited so long for you– but it was worth the wait, wasn’t it?” her lips skimmed one side of your neck, while Aemond nosed at the other. 

You felt all encompassing, squeezed between the two of them– your brain was firing off on all cylinders, every cell of your body writhing in pleasure. “... w-waiting?” you managed to ask.

“Yes, puppy. We waited for you– all of the others were no good, defective– but you are perfect. You desire both of us, yes?” Alys asked, peering up at you.

You nodded without hesitation. 

“You know how much I desire children, but unable to have any of my own,” she murmured. “Will you have a family with us? Like a pride of lions, hm?”

You swallowed, eyes peeling away from Alys, drifting to the door, which was now open. The ghastly figures of seven women hung in the hallway, dead by many different manners. Eyes of the damned stared back at you.

“Y-yes, I want to have a family with you,” you agreed softly. You truly did want it– as you’d become so dependent on the both of them, you would do anything to please them. And you loved them both. You blinked– the figures at the door were gone now. 

Alys hummed in delight. “Oh, my sweet,” she nipped at your skin before pulling you to the side of the bed. “Aemond, I am surprised she isn’t taken with child yet– he is quite virile, isn’t he– like a stud stallion,” she giggled as Aemond came up behind you, continuing to kiss your neck. “I suppose you need to breed her more often, now that she’s agreed.”

You melted into your husband’s touch, you had missed it so sorely– he had been so quiet and solemn during your recovery, like he was mourning something. He laid back on the bed and pulled you atop him, his arousal already prodding at your folds. You ached for him, truly, sighing a little moan into his mouth as you kissed. His taste was so different from Alys’, his was heady and deep, lulling you into a sense of familiarity. Sliding you back, he slowly lowered you down onto his length, stretching you out. You mewled at the sensation, coupled with Alys palming your breasts and pinching your nipples, causing that delightful cocktail of pain and pleasure that you had chased so fervently months ago.

Cursing under your breath, you adjusted to his size, looking down at him as you rested with him to the hilt. His hand grasped your hip, eclipsing you and thumbing at your clit. You rocked back and forth on him, eyes closed for a moment in exhilaration. Once opening them, you didn’t feel Alys behind you, but now she was atop Aemond as well, her bottom half sat upon his face as he serviced her, too– ever dutiful. The sight was raunchy and erotic and made a tingle go through you as you continued your rocking motions, skin slapping upon skin as you chased your high. 

Alys leaned forward, in turn, pulling you to her. Your lips met again and she tasted just as lovely as you remember, so sweet and comforting, like honey coating your lips. The entirety of the situation was catching up to you as your peak hit you like a train, whimpering sweet nothings into Alys’ mouth, your hand squeezing on Aemond’s hip. 

Apparently your peak had started a crescendo, as Alys was next, spilling on Aemond’s tongue and rolling off of him, his face coated in the evidence of her orgasm. Something primal and feral came over you as you leaned down and connected lips with him again, tasting both him and her at the same time– you clenched on his cock that was nestled deep inside of you, and with a grunt, he spilled deep inside of you. 

‘Twas round one of four upon that night.

–

You quite enjoyed the estate, as big and spacious as it was, you suppose it could be considered lonely. You imagined it in its heyday, full of diplomats, royalty, lords and ladies and children alike– but it seemed to be a ghost of its former self. Much like you felt you were– mayhaps not a ghost. You felt more akin to a moth, emerging from your silken cocoon and spreading your wings.

Sitting upon the terrace, it was a full three years since you and Aemond had married. You watched the lawn as your twins toddled on the greenery with an abundance of toys– a boy and a girl that were just a bit over a year and a half old. 

Settling into the seat, you put a hand over your swollen belly– once again round with child. You and Alys were keen on running Aemond ragged until the estate was once again full of children, much to his chagrin– and pleasure. 

“Lemonade, puppy?” Alys hummed, nosing your ear as she offered you a cool glass. 

“Thank you, sweet,” you responded in kind, taking a sip. Your eyes followed Alys’ hand as she gently caressed your belly, pulling up a stool and sitting beside you, one ear to your stomach. She quite liked talking to the children, born or unborn– always chattering, reading stories and telling tall tales. 

Aemond scooped up the twins from the greenery, walking over to the two of you. “Say hello to mummas,” he cooed softly. 

The twins babbled little greetings to both Alys and you, who they both considered their mother. You feared for the conversation that would come in the future where you had to explain that every family was different, and not everyone had two mummas. 

But for now, you’d enjoy blissful ignorance upon the secluded estate. 

Tipping your head back, you surveyed the tall walls of the building. 

Seven windows lined the eastern inner palisade– and with those seven windows, were seven figures, staring back at you. 

[archangeldyke-all]

well now that we’re talking abt it i can imagine sevs gf constantly poking and tapping her butt and she’d get so annoyed 😭

on the other hand, if sev is obsessed with her gf’s butt she would be groping it constantly and probably use it as a pillow bc she says it’s comfier than an actual pillow 🫠

i'd never leave her ass alone if she was mine

men and minors dni

she'd fucking hate (love) it the way you're always playing with her ass.

whether it's a love tap while you pass her, a firm smack when you're sending her off to work, a hand tucked in her back pocket while you guys walk, groping it while hugging her-- you're always pinching, poking, smacking and groping her ass.

each time she squeaks and smacks your hand away, then glares at you. you just laugh and kiss her cheek, and watch as her glare melts away.

she's such a hypocrite, because she's just as bad with your ass as you are with hers. she's constantly her hands on your ass, especially in public, when it's least appropriate.

and at home? sevika's always got her hands down your pants, clawing at your ass cheeks, or pulling your pants down and biting at your cheeks, or just constantly tapping at them like they're bongos. she's always got a cocky little smirk when she does it too-- she's such a shit.

anyways-- when you really embarrass her or catch her off guard, sevika will spin around after you smack her butt and glare at you, backing you against the nearest flat surface as she growls.

"fuckin' cut it out."

"why-- did i turn you on?" you ask. she's silent, her glare melting as she tries to mentally calculate how to respond. you laugh. "gotcha!" you tease her. she groans.

"will you just behave until we get home?" she asks. you laugh.

"like how you were behaving when you sucked that hickey in my neck ten minutes ago?"

she sighs and rolls her eyes.

"...fine." she says. the second the word leaves her mouth, your hands are wrapping around her, each one landing on one of her ass cheeks and squeezing. she tries to glare again, but it's much less effective with the blush creeping up her cheeks softening it.

"love you." you say with a grin. sevika rolls her eyes.

"love you too." she grumbles.

"love this ass, too." you say. she groans and smacks your hands away from her body, flipping you off as she runs away from you.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki

[nerdraging4point0]

Mad Hearts and Temptations // Chapter Three // Wonderland AU

Tropes and Tags: Wonderland romance, instalove, too much sex, destiny, fated lovers.

Content warning: 18+ only minors DNI. dark themes, gore themes, gothic themes, PinV, PinA, oral (f!recieveing, m!recieving), voyeurism, exhibitionism, angst.

A.N.- Although Characters may have face claim to the Bad Omens band as well as Poppy, I have changed their names for the sake of the story. Despite this change I hope everyone still enjoys the story as a whole!

This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people's faces but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction.

Taglist(click to be added): @poisongirl616 @ladyveronikawrites @shilohrosechicken @th0ughts-pr4yers @meliferafaerie @itsafullmoon @viofcrows @letmeadoreyoux @latenightmusiclover @transparentwitchnightmare @darling-millicent-aubrey @badomensls @cookiesupplier @concreteemo @mysticdoodlez @srorgana1 @in-another-life @broken0mens @somewhere-diamond @celestineveil @littlefoxkota @silentglassbreak @hayleylatour @sundamariis @lma1986 @thatchickwiththecamera @lilhobgobbler @missduffsblog @asilentsiren @catharsis-in-darkness @dsireland86 @skulliecadaver-blog @laurpartyprogram @faceless-mirror @somebodyels3 @jakeygvf21 @badomensls @thisbicc @cncohshit

The wind rushes past my ears as I plunge deeper and deeper into the abyss. With each passing second, the light above grows fainter while the darkness below swallows me whole. I’ve lost all sense of direction, unable to discern up from down in this vortex of shadows. My stomach lurches with each flip, tossing and turning without control. Strands of hair whip wildly across my eyes, blinding me further in this endless freefall. I flail my arms, grasping at nothing but air that slips through my fingers.

I feel the need to scream but nothing comes out.

The grey swirling mist around me gives way to dark tree branches as I see the forest come through around me. My heart leaps into my throat as I desperately grasp at passing branches and shrubs, trying to slow my momentum. Just when I think my fall will never end, the sleeve of my cardigan snags on an outstretched tree limb, abruptly halting my descent. I dangle helplessly in the air, my feet kicking below me as I struggle to regain my composure. Adrenaline courses through my veins from the sudden shock of my fall and narrow escape. I take a few deep breaths to calm my racing heart, clinging tightly to the branch as it sways under my weight. The quiet creaking barely registers before an ominous snap pierces the silence. In an instant, the branch gives way and I plummet the remaining distance to the forest floor. I land flat on my back, all the air forced from my lungs on impact.

My eyes focus on the sight above me. Gloomy grey clouds swirl in whirlwind circles, like the way a hurricane might look - dark, menacing, and ominous. As I take in the dreary sky, the clouds appear to be spinning faster and faster, morphing into a giant whirlpool directly over my head. I can almost feel the power emanating from their rotation like a vacuum trying to suck me up into oblivion. Sitting up slowly, I feel the soreness in my bones, as if I had slept on the hard ground all night long. The aching penetrates deep, making even the slightest movements arduous and painful. I check for broken bones, wiggling my fingers and toes, bending my arms and legs, and nothing is seriously damaged. 

My hands are covered in dirt from the forest floor, if a forest is what you call it, I brush the soil from my hands as I scan the dreary trees around me. The floor is not covered in grass or moss, but a dark and crumbling soil that clings to my skin. It is as if the very life has been sucked from this place, leaving only dust in its wake. The trees that surround me are gnarled and twisted, with branches like boney claws grasping desperately at the oppressive gray sky. They are barren - not a single leaf or bud in sight, just rough bark that seems to slough off in scales. There is an unnatural stillness here, and a damp chill that seeps into my bones. The only movement comes from the fog that swirls eerily between the skeletal trees. It dances just out of reach, sinuous tendrils of mist that seem to have a mind of their own as they curl and twist. The fog circles me like a predator, watching closely but never coming close enough to touch. There is something sinister about this place, as if the very air is heavy with malice.

The world around me is eerily quiet - it's as if someone has hit the mute button on life itself. No birds singing, no rustle of leaves in the breeze, just deafening silence. All I can hear is the rhythmic ticking of a clock, though I see no timepiece nearby. The steady ticks seem unnaturally loud in the void of sound, almost oppressive as they count away each passing second. 

I stand from the floor, whipping my head around slowly to find the source of the ticking sound. When she surprises me, she steps out from behind one of the trees. Her long blonde hair cascades straight down to her waist, and I see her soft caramel eyes go wide as she takes in the sight of my dirt-covered self. I jump back in surprise as she stands still where she is, her nose twitching ever so slightly. I relax a little, recognizing the girl from the coffee shop as she steps around the tree, a lace-covered hand still holding to the black bark as if it will save her should I be dangerous.

I feel the panic set in when I see what she is wearing, even more so what rests on her head. Platform shoes that are taller than her feet are wide support her, white stockings disappear under periwinkle leather shorts, which cling tightly to reveal subtly muscular legs. A navy and white corset pulls her narrow waist in dramatically, leaving her body in a perfect hourglass figure. The long tail of her navy trenchcoat brushes the back of her knees as she walks, the black lace at the hem an elegant and beautiful touch. On the top of her head protruding from the platinum locks are two white bunny ears, they stand straight up twitching as she stares at me intently. She reaches down into her pocket and pulls out a silver pocket watch placing it in the palm of her lace gloved hand. Regarding the time, one of her ears flops over as she tsks softly and looks back up at me, stating simply in a melodic voice, "You're very late." I stare in bewilderment, wondering if I'm hallucinating this strange yet alluring sight before me. The girl tilts her head quizzically, bunny ears perked up once again, as she waits for me to respond.

“I…I…late for what?” my voice cracks a little, I have been sucked into this dream again and it’s starting to get old. 

The young woman smiles trotting over to me before taking my upper arm, pulling me along as she skips merrily down the forest path, her sheen white hair bouncing with each step. "Come now. So very little to do and so much time," she sings, her voice light and melodic. I hurry to keep up, worried she'll twist an ankle in those heels as we push on through the uneven ground littered with sticks and stones. She stops abruptly and I nearly crash into her back. Turning to me, her face grows pensive, her brows knitting together in concentration.

 "So little time, so much to do. Yes, yes, that's it!" she exclaims, having sorted out some internal debate. She resumes her brisk pace, heels clicking on the hard dirt before sinking into the soft soil.

 "You should have come through the door. You would have been closer to Hatter that way," she advises as we walk. "But the mirror will do. They are tricky, tricky, tricky. You could have come through completely upside down!" She elaborates on the precarious magic of portal mirrors - how I might have emerged feet where my head should be, eyes planted squarely on my chin. Such a disturbing image, but she seems utterly unfazed by the prospect of such chaos.

 "Upside down?" I ask, unable to grasp how that would even work. 

"Oh yes!" she readily confirms, no trace of doubt in her voice. Stopping short again, she spins to face me, eyes narrowed.

 "Let me see your hands," she demands. I hold them out obediently as she inspects them for the proper number of digits. Satisfied, her expression clouds again. She leans in close, peering at my face intently, and whispers "Do you have hands on your feet?" Mystified, I shake my head no, and she relaxes, beaming.

 "Good!" she declares cheerily before pirouetting away once more down the path.

"I'm sorry,"  Her brisk pace through the winding forest path leaves me struggling to match her graceful steps. She glides effortlessly over fallen branches and mossy stones while I stumble clumsily behind, longing to pause and catch my breath. The further we go, the more I yearn to turn around, retrace my footsteps and return to the place I began. But the mysterious maiden shows no signs of slowing, so I press on, determined not to lose sight of her flickering white dress between the trees up ahead.

"Who exactly are you?" I ask. She giggles white lace glove covering her soft pink glossy lips. My blunt question elicits a melodic laugh as she conceals her mouth with a dainty hand. I fail to grasp what amusement my inquiry brings her. With an elegant twirl, she stops abruptly and faces me, throwing her arms out wide as if presenting herself to an invisible audience.

"I am all that I am and all that I will be. I am Melina, herald to the late white queen," her face falls a little growing somber as she delivers her final line, "and the great red queen." Her prideful introduction gives way to melancholy, ears falling ever so slightly as she seems to choke on the word ‘great’. 

After sharing a somber beginning to our encounter, her demeanor suddenly shifts as a radiant grin spreads across her face, lighting up her cheeks with a rosy flush. Her long, snowy rabbit ears, which had drooped mournfully just moments before, now perk up with delight. With renewed enthusiasm, she begins merrily spinning and skipping down the forest path, practically bounding with each step. Her movements are graceful and spirited, reflecting her improved mood. I hurry to keep up as she continues on ahead, but struggle to match her graceful, nimble movements.

“Okay,” She effortlessly scurries up the side of the path, climbing over a large fallen tree blocking our way with ease. I attempt to follow her over the obstacle, but cannot mimic her graceful agility. “Next question, where am I? How did I get here? Isn’t this just a dream?”

Stumbling clumsily back onto the path, I watch her continue on, now skipping backwards so she can face me as we talk. Her mood is clearly much improved from when we first met, transformed from melancholy to positively gleeful in mere moments. Yet while her sadness has passed, my confusion remains. I hurry after her down the path, determined to make sense of this strange world I've found myself in.

“That is three questions, shall I answer in order or answer the ones that would make more sense?” she giggles continuously. 

“Nothing makes sense!” I argue looking directly at her soft white bunny ears knowing for certain no person could have ears like that all the time. 

"Well, you will never know that something makes sense unless it is said." Her response is not wrong but it doesn't sound right either, I can feel my head splitting already as I touch my temples. Her cryptic words echo in my mind, their meaning just out of reach.

“Where you are is, Otherland. I already told you how you got here-or how you should have come here.”

“The door,” I nod along as she speaks, acting as if I comprehend, but my confusion only grows. Her guidance feels less like truth and more like riddles. I want to believe her, to latch onto any clarity amidst the haze enveloping my mind. Yet as much as I strain to assemble the fragments, the full picture eludes me.  “But, I can never open it.”

“Well, now you couldn’t, not with red queen guarding it with her life.” Her elusive responses just leave me grasping at ghosts, the truth always dancing out of reach. If only she would just tell me plainly, perhaps then I could make sense of this madness.

"I hear what you’re saying, but none of it is making sense." I try again to comprehend the confusing words and concepts she is conveying, but they continue to elude me, slipping through my grasp like smoke. She lets out a soft sigh, her eyes rolling upward in frustration as if searching the empty void above for divine inspiration.

Realizing the futility of her abstract explanations that seem clear to her but remain a jumble to me, she concedes: "I am horrible with explanations, too many thoughts scampering about in my head. Dax is far better, he should be with the hatter now. We should keep moving." 

At the mention of "the hatter," vivid images from my shadowy dreams flood my mind - a tall, lean figure lurking in the darkness, clad in an impeccable black suit and glossy top hat. Could this be the mysterious man she is referring to? As I recall his chilling words uttered to me in the dead of night - "Ember, set me free" - a shiver runs down my spine. I sense this puzzling dream world and obscure reality are somehow connected, but the link remains just out of reach, as obscure to me as my companion's convoluted elucidations. 

We delve deeper into the sinister forest, the canopy now so dense above us that not even a sliver of the gloomy sky peeks through. All around us come unnerving cries and screeches from unseen creatures lurking in the shadows. I flinch with every sound, imagining the unseen horrors to be stalking us, waiting to strike. Never could I have imagined that venturing farther into the impenetrable darkness would reveal such thriving, albeit twisted, life. A screech erupts frightfully close by and I can't help but let out a yelp of fear.

"What was that?!" I exclaim, my voice quivering.

"Bandersnatches," Melina replies matter-of-factly, not missing a beat in her brisk pace. "They roam wild in these woods but won't bother you if you just keep moving." I scurry to stay right on her heels, her flowing jacket now within arm's reach. If any nefarious creature is out to get me, I want to stay as near as possible to my guide through this nightmare realm.

Without warning, another shriek pierces the stillness, causing Melina to halt abruptly in her tracks. Her tall white ears stand erect, nose twitching as she scans the darkened trees around us. I stop short as well, peering anxiously into the shadows, though I know my human eyes are no match for her heightened animal senses. Through the tense silence, the forlorn howl of a hound echoes.

"And that?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper as I follow the mysterious girl through the dark forest. She pauses and turns back to me, silver hair glinting as if it is radiating it’s own light.

 "Harlan," she says just as quietly, a hint of urgency in her tone. "The hunt has begun." Her words send a chill down my spine as somewhere in the distance, I hear the baying of hounds. "No, no, no, I'm late," she mutters, checking the silver pocket watch she wears around her neck repeatedly, mumbling "no" to herself as she scrambles up the mossy forest walls on either side of the narrow path.

"Wait!" I cry out desperately, stumbling after her, not wanting to lose my strange guide in this ominous wood. But she halts and holds out a slender hand to stop me as the chilling howl of the hound cries out once more, closer now. She looks frightened, almost torn between staying to lead me through the dark trees and fleeing from some unseen pursuer.

 "No. Stay on the path. Move with haste, but stay on the path," she instructs firmly, her luminous eyes boring into mine, willing me to heed her warning before darting off into the blackness of the woods. I'm left alone on the winding trail, my heart pounding as the baying grows louder, wondering who or what hunts these woods at night and what fate awaits if I stray from the path.

I continue the way we were headed, my feet moving with much greater purpose now. The sounds disappear behind me and I feel my heart rate slowing, the dark forest breaks free and I can see the sky once again. The winding forest path stretches on endlessly before me, narrowing as it snakes between the ancient, towering trees. Their gnarled branches reach out overhead, blotting out the moonlight that had briefly illuminated my way. The ground underfoot grows more treacherous, littered with loose rocks, tangled roots and fallen limbs that threaten to twist my ankles with every hurried step. I've been walking for what feels like hours now, though it's impossible to tell in this timeless dreamscape where minutes blend seamlessly into days.

I look down and I no longer can see the clear path in front of me, I panic just slightly turning to see where I may have lost it and think I can retrace my steps to find it again. But behind me the fog has curled over the path like a cat curling around my legs, obscuring any signs of the trail in a thick, milky haze. All I can see now are mangled branches and other forest debris emerging from the mist. Oh fuck, I'm lost.

 I turn on my heel, ready to run back and find the path again, afraid I may no longer know my directions in this featureless sea of black. What if I am lost among this forest forever, doomed to wander endlessly through the featureless void? I'm stopped only by a soft whisper, turning I can see the fog whispering in curls as if the wind is blowing through it. The whisper is a soft low sound, rhythmic, like snoring...no, purring. 

"I wouldn't if I were you," the disembodied voice purrs, its notes echoing off the trees and curling around me like the fog itself. The voice seems to emanate from the fog itself, surrounding me with its hypnotic susurrus.

"Going back would be cat-astrophic."

[blue-jisungs]

work of art

a/n. nooo this is totally not self-indulgent, i don’t know what are you talking about :)

also i experienced a bit with the dialogue? like making pauses, not really saying who’s saying what so i hope you don’t get confused ^^

summary. minghao loves you, all of you. even if that means stretch marks or other insecurities.

warnings. talking about body image, crying, insecurities :(

"i hate them"

your soft voice strikes minghao almost as an oxymoron in this situation. nevertheless his fingers don’t stop tracing the marks on your skin.

his touches are feather-light, almost ghosting over your stretch marks. but you can still feel them.

you sigh and notice that minghao’s tender gaze turns to you, your face.

"why?"

you bite your lip and look at the flesh of your exposed thigh, thanks to your short pyjama shorts. your skin is covered with old marks. it’s not the only place but it’s the one that’s visible the most.

"they are ugly. i got them when i was young… at that age people barely get stretch marks. but i did"

he humms and his gaze softens when he notices the way your bottom lip starts to quiver and your brows furrows ever so slightly.

"i felt so… ugly. and ashamed. all the girls in my class had this young, pretty, untouched skin. and there i was with those marks on my thighs, waist… belly…"

your boyfriend takes his hand back from your thigh, the other still supporting his head.

"and they still remind me of those times. and just i general they make me feel so… insecure"

he suddenly places his palm flat on the stretch marks. his hand is so big that it covers most of them. while minghao is looking at it for a second, you feel the tears dropping down on your cheeks.

"well it’s… it’s not you without them" he says and internally panics a bit once he notices the shining tears streaming down your face. he shifts his body and cups your cheeks, wiping away the tears with his thumbs "i think they’re pretty, just like you. they are a mark of how much you’ve been through and that you made it. it’s a sign that you’re just a human. and i love all your perfect imperfections, even if you see them as insecurities"

you throw your hands around his arms and wrap it around his neck, pulling him closer in a tight hug. hao moves his hands around your waist and draws circles in soothing motions as another sharp sob leaves your mouth. because – even if he doesn’t know that – his hands are yet again on your stretch marks that are hidden under your shirt.

"they are a work of art"

his whisper makes you bury your head in his chest, the comforting smell of him making your head spin. it breaks his heart to see you crying like that but deep down he knows you needed to hear that words.

"you are a work of art, my dear"

[ masterlist <3 ]

taglist. @geniejunn ,, @luvhyun3 ,, @starlostseungmin ,, @elviransworld ,, @jnks6r ,, @sieunsgf ,, @lhsng ,, @ethereallino ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @duolingofanaccount ,, @slytherinhobi

[doyawalker]

Out Of Sight, Out Of Mind#9

chapter 8.

contains swearing, alcohol consumption, clubbing

masterlist

previous chapter

taglist: @namjooning-94, @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad, @parkinglot-nights , @y2kcy3brz

__

And By The End Of The Night, I Wanna Feel Like The Sky Is Dripping On Every Part Of Me

The Attic was a small club that only had a single floor, a few tables scattered around the edges, and a backdoor that led to the outside smoking area. It wasn’t fancy and maybe that was the reason why it was so popular. It wasn’t pretending to be anything that it wasn’t.

Being on the VIP list of the Attic meant that you got a table for you and your friends, a bottle of sparkling wine, and early entry, meaning that you didn’t have to wait outside in line like the many other people you had walked past by.

To say the club was packed was an understatement. It was always full when you went clubbing there but on that particular weekend there seemed to be even more people than usual. It was hard to spot anyone in that crowd as everyone kind of blurred together, bodies dancing to the beat, the air smelled like cigarettes and perfume. 

You felt good.

The tequila shots had already done their job and had you giggling all the way walking from your flat over to the club that was only a few blocks apart from your home. Sori was sitting next to you, some friends of hers that you didn’t know standing around her and talking to her, while you were content with simply people-watching, your eyes aimlessly wandering around the club.

Taehyung emerged from somewhere beside you, his hands full with shot glasses, a big grin on his face.

“Who’s ready for more shots?”, he yelled over the loud music, bringing the glasses down onto the table. 

With sparkling eyes, you threw him a thankful smile, grabbing two shots at once and clinking them against Tae’s.

You wanted to get shitfaced tonight. You weren’t drinking often so whenever you actually were, you wanted to make sure that it was hitting right. Regrets were something for the morning after.

Downing the two shots one after another, your face distorted in a grimace amidst the burning sensation trickling down your throat, followed by the fuzzy feeling in your stomach. 

“Are you trying to drown some worries I don’t know about?”, Tae asked beside you, now sitting on the seat next to you, one eyebrow raised in concern.

You laughed it off, slapping him against his arm half-heartedly, but avoiding the eye contact. Were you? You didn’t know. 

“Shouldn’t we go dance?”, you giggled, already forgetting the question he asked you. When you looked at him, his face turned blurry.

But the bass of the music was echoing in your chest, and your feet wanted to move. 

“Come on.”, you urged him, pulling him up from his chair and pulling him with you toward the middle of the room. He tried to protest, but you knew it was only for show. He loved to dance and he loved to be the center of attention, he just never admitted it.

After pushing through the crowd to get somewhere more in the center, you turned around to him, your eyes falling on him, your body starting to dance to the beat.

And as you expected, he didn’t take long to follow, maintaining enough space between the two of you, as you both let loose, giggling and laughing at each other’s ridiculous moves, not caring one bit about anything in the world at that moment. 

He walked into the club at around 11 PM, the smell of alcohol, sweat, and smoke immediately filling his senses. He was closely behind Jimin and Hoseok, as they made their way through the overcrowded room, trying to get to their table. His gaze wandered left and right, catching a few girls staring at him, smiling suggestively, or straight up trying to walk up to him, but he quickly hid in the mass, his eyes only searching for one particular person. You.

Tae took your hands, clapping them together in the rhythm of the beat, his eyes sparkling in amusement. You laughed at him, the world around you spinning so much that you could only focus on him. The music changed into a new song, making Tae change the way he was bopping his head side to side, his fluffy hair bouncing wildly around, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling. When was the last time you had that much fun?

Finally sitting down on one of the chairs at their table, his eyes continued to scan the room. He had seen the girl sitting at the table next to theirs, she seemed vaguely familiar to him and then he remembered that he saw her sitting next to you at Hoseok’s and Jin’s party. She seemed to be a friend of yours. Which was a good sign, because if she was here, he was sure that you were here too. The question was only, where? 

You twirled around, your hips still moving side to side to the music, as you threw a glance over to your table, your eyes searching for Sori. She was missing out on all the fun. 

It took you a second to remember where your table was because quite frankly, everything looked the same to you right now. Except for one thing. One thing wasn’t looking right. And that was Jeon Jungkook sitting at the table next to yours, his eyes locking on yours the very second you looked at him.

His eyes finally found you in the middle of the crowd. And when they did, he caught you looking at him and there was this spark in his chest that he tried hard to suppress. Your movements came to a sudden stop, your eyes widening a bit as he saw the realization hitting your face. You looked breathtaking. A light green dress hugging your figure, multiple bracelets dangling from your wrists, catching the light from the projectors over your head, your hair falling beautifully. And when you looked at him like that, your eyes unable to look away, he couldn’t help but wink at you, grinning confidently. Tonight was the night.

You felt your face heating up as he winked at you, your body getting rigid, your eyes caught in his. The alcohol was clouding your mind and it was almost impossible for you to form a coherent thought, but your heart was able to feel what it wanted to feel. Desire. You knew it was wrong, you knew your head didn’t want the same, but right now you wanted him to walk over to you and dance with you. And so he did.

You watched him get up from his seat, his gaze not leaving you. He looked amazing that night. His curls were reaching down the nape of his neck, framing his face flawlessly, a tight, black sleeveless shirt stretching over his broad chest, showing off his tattoos that were still visible in the dark room. And he was moving in your direction, holy fuck.

But the sudden grip around your arm finally made you snap back into reality. Turning you around to face him, Tae looked at you urgently, his gaze darting back and forth between you and Jungkook.

Don’t.

Even in your drunken state, you could decipher the word he was mouthing to you, shaking his head to underline its meaning. 

And then the haze in your mind started to clear out enough for you to realize that he was right. This was a bad idea. Your body was betraying you. Shamelessly. You shouldn’t fall for it, you CAN’T fall for it. You needed to get away from him.

And so you didn’t protest as Tae pulled you further down into the crowd.

Disappointment filled his stomach immediately, cursing under his breath at Taehyung. It had been the perfect moment. He couldn’t let you go so easily. He needed to talk to you, be in your presence even though he didn’t want to admit that. There was something going rampant in his chest whenever he was around you, something that he was craving by now. Although he knew how cautious you were around him. He couldn’t blame you. But as his eyes kept on following your figure in the mass of people, he wished it was him by your side instead of Taehyung. 

You only dared to glance back over your shoulder once and when you did, you were met by his eyes still lingering onto you. And so you quickly looked away again, shaking your head slightly to get the thoughts out of your head. You wanted the carefree, goofy-dancing with Tae moments back, not this mess occupying your mind. You needed another shot.

Gesturing toward the bar, you tried to inform Taehyung of your plan, but the music was drowning out every sound that came from your mouth. You were closer to the speakers now, so there was no chance of trying to communicate. 

You imitated the movement of taking a shot and he finally understood. Signing you a thumbs-up, he grabbed you by the shoulder, the two of you making your way to the bar together. But the dance floor had gotten even more crowded with time, people pressing against you from every side, your feet stumbling aimlessly around, as you tried to keep your destination in front of you. And when you finally tripped out of the mass of people, your hands reaching out for the table of the bar for support, Tae was no longer behind you. Looking around you, your eyes searched the room for him, but you couldn’t find him. 

Sighing, you turned back around to the bartender, waving your hand at him to get his attention. 

And suddenly you emerged from the crowd next to him, stumbling toward the bar and looking around frantically, but your eyes didn’t land on him. Your body pushed itself in front of him, your hands gesturing toward the bartender, as you bent over the bar table to yell your order in his ear. He couldn’t stop his gaze from wandering over the lines of your body, lingering on your backside for a second longer than necessary. You were so close to him.

“Two tequila shots. Silver, please.”, you screamed at the bartender, signing a two with your fingers to him. If Tae wouldn’t show up, you would just drink the shots on your own, you figured. Leaning back, you turned around to rest your back against the bar table, while you kept on searching for Tae, but as your eyes caught on his, his tall frame standing right in front of you, your heart almost skipped a beat.

You finally turned around, your eyes widening a bit as they landed on him. You looked even more stunning upfront. The confident grin crept on his face almost automatically, as he took a step closer to you, your perfume intoxicating his mind immediately. 

“Hi.”, he said, leaning down to you a bit.

His voice was reaching your ear effortlessly as if he didn’t even have to try to speak against the loud music. He looked even better upfront. And when he bent down to you, his usual smell of cigarettes and perfume clouded your senses. 

“Hi.”, you responded, the alcohol making you feel more confident than you actually were.

The bartender put your order beside you on the table, tapping you on the shoulder to get your attention. You turned around, grabbing one of the shot glasses and the salt shaker next to it. Without thinking twice, he grabbed the second shot, winking at you as he dragged his tongue across the back of his hand. You stared at him with your beautiful eyes, almost perplexed as he reached his hand out to you, holding it in front of you so that you could sprinkle some salt on the wet spot he created.

You shook the salt over his hand, having trouble aiming it correctly and spilling parts of it to the floor. A giggle escaped your lips, as you looked back up at him, your cheeks blushing by the way his eyes were focused on you. 

“Cheers.”, he said, holding his glass in your direction so that you could bring yours against his. 

“Cheers.”, you replied, licking the salt off the back of your hand and downing the shot in one go, before biting on the slice of lemon that had been floating in your glass.

The tequila ran down your throat, leaving a satisfying burn in the back of it, as you put your empty glass back on the bar behind you, before leaning your back against it comfortably, your gaze finding him again.

You looked up at him under your fluttering eyelashes, your mind back to its clouded state, making the idea of talking to him seem like a good one. Tae’s protest was somewhere deeply buried in the back of your head, your heart taking over the reins now.

“So, how’s your evening going?”, you asked him, your voice giving away the fact that this hasn’t been your first shot of the night. Your body seemed relaxed and he noticed that this was the first time that you initiated a conversation between the two of you. A good sign. 

“Well, the past five minutes have definitely been the best of this evening so far.”, he answered, taking a chance by stepping even closer to you, his eyes lingering on your exposed chest for a second. God. 

“Enjoy it while you can. As soon as Tae finds me, you’ll probably not see me again tonight.”

He furrowed his brows at that, putting one hand down on the bar table beside you. Your eyes flickered over to the muscles in his arm for a moment and he let himself relish in your attention. 

“Is he your new bodyguard?”, he asked, not caring enough to hide the resentment in his voice.

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head to the side, which made you look so unbelievably irresistible, as you answered.“Jealous much?” 

He chuckled to himself, shaking his head slightly.

“Just curious.”

“He’s my roommate.”, you explain, resting both your arms on the table behind you, your skin grazing his hand in the movement. He wanted more.

“He never said anything about a roommate.”

“Why would he?”

“Friends tell each other such things, don’t they?” 

A humorless giggle erupted from your chest, and while he noticed the bitterness in it, the sound still made something move in the pit of his stomach.

“Friends also don’t fuck with a friend’s ex, do they?”, you ask, your body leaning forward, your eyes challenging him.

Tilting his head in confusion, he noticed how it became harder and harder for him to concentrate the closer your body came to his. 

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on. I know you’re not stupid, although it’s hard to believe sometimes.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Tae’s little ex-fling. The blonde girl at the party. At Hoseok's and Jin’s.”

As the realization slowly seeped into his mind, his eyes finally darted to a point somewhere behind you, as he cursed silently under his breath. Of course, you had seen Lydia clinging to him and it wasn’t hard to add two and two together. But this wasn’t a simple equation. 

“I never fucked her. I also didn’t know that she had something going on with Tae. She tried to hit on me several times, but I don’t do that.”

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, creating a bit of distance again. There was something unreadable flashing over your face and he didn’t like the direction this conversation was heading to.

“Why should I believe you?”

“Why would I lie to you?”

“You gave me several reasons two years ago why I shouldn’t believe a thing you say.”

Your words struck him like a knife, his jaw clenching together, as everything started to make sense now. There were a lot of things you still didn’t know. And maybe even more things that you shouldn’t know about.

You saw the way his body tensed up, something flaring up in his eyes that you couldn’t interpret. You didn’t know if you would regret saying that the next day. Maybe it had been too honest, too open. But it seemed like you hit a nerve, finally getting him to give away some of his emotions. Because this wasn’t the same reaction as before, not the nonchalant acting where he tried to make it seem like nothing ever happened. He knew more than he had tried to make you believe. He remembered. You knew that now.

He sighed, his head bowing down to you once more. Your mind started to race with thoughts as you suddenly realized where this was heading, now that he was acknowledging the past. Could this be..?

“Y/N, I think there is-”

But he couldn’t even finish his sentence, because suddenly Taehyung popped out of the crowd next to you, his hand immediately gripping your arm and pulling you a step away from Jungkook. 

“There you are!”, Tae exclaimed loudly, his eyes darting between you and Jungkook as he examined you carefully. “You okay?”

You nodded, smiling at him half-absently, the room still spinning around you but your body was okay. Your head was not on the other hand. As you looked back up at Jungkook, unsaid words still lingered in the air between you and you felt this urgency to talk to him. It was the same feeling as back then. When you always wanted to talk about how you were feeling, how much he was hurting you. As if the cycle was repeating itself. 

But Taehyung didn’t give you much time to keep thinking about that, as he gave Jungkook a simple nod, pulling you back into the crowd with him.

He sat at his table for the rest of the night, sipping on his drink and his eyes glued onto you. You were dancing, your hips swaying side to side with the beat of the music, your hands in the air or roaming over your body. Tae was dancing somewhere beside you, together with the other girl from your table but he didn’t pay him much mind. He was too focused on the way your body was moving, a content smile on your lips, as you seemed to be so lost in the moment. And when you closed your eyes, the lights of the club hitting your face, painting it in a beautiful red and white and blue, it seemed like the world was slowing down, everything around him blurred as he could only see you.

He knew he had to tell you the truth. Not only about back then. But about this time as well. Maybe you would listen to him. Maybe you would believe him. And maybe you could give him a second chance. Because he wanted it badly.

__

[demxnicprxncess]

kai smut where reader tries to dom and ties his hands to the headboard but he gets out and he punishes her?

sure thing angel.

Taglist: @kitwalkersgfff, @ppawmpkin, @yes-divine-ruler, @quicksilversg1rl, @charsdunkie, @eddiemunsonsbitch69, @dahmevan, @sultrysullen dm me to be added or removed dears.

Top| Kai Anderson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Restraints, Dom and sub relationship, worship, Kai Anderson. lmk if I missed any

I finished tying the sleeping man to the headboard and ran to the bathroom to change into my skimpy lingerie. "Bunny, what the fuck is going on?" I poked my head out to face him barely not coming out yet. "Shh daddy, you're ruining your surprise." He threw his head back before looking at my face. "What's that on your head baby?" I poked my head out again showing off the cute fluffy bunny ears I had on. "Nothing…" He let out a low groan, "C'mon baby, let me out and I won't punish you." I stepped out fully wearing bunny lingerie he had gotten me for a birthday. He got me bunny everything, he said not because I was innocent, we all knew I wasn't, but rather because he found me cute, and I was rather skittish. I knew when the fuck to run, but right now the little bunny tail shook as I did a little spin for him. "You like?" He smirked and pulled on his restraints. "I love it bunny." I walked over to our nightstand. I heard a snap and chuckle before feeling him grip my waist. "You should've let me go when you had the chance baby." I whimpered at his voice. "I thought-" He placed his hand over my mouth. "You suck at tying knots… but this outfit baby." He sucked on his teeth before kissing my neck. "Lay down." I quickly ran to the bed. "Get in position." I sat with my face in the pillow and my ass up. "Fuck baby, but not that one." I frowned and laid on my back watching as he looked at me with a look I had never seen before. He looked at me with a fondness, I got scared and thought he'd kill me but rather got on his knees and pulled my thighs apart, unbuttoning the bottom part of my lingerie. "Divine Ruler?" He looked at me and hummed in acknowledgement. "What are you doing?" He smiled at me, "Rewarding my good, good girl for her loyalty to me." I felt myself blush at his words. My sense of what was going on disappearing as I felt his lips wrap around my clit, I gripped his hair in pleasure whining and grinding against him. "Daddy…" He pushed my hips into the bed planting me flat as to not move. "I know baby." He slid his tongue around my hole before putting it in making me squirm against his grasp. "Can I-" He sent me a look through his eyelashes from in-between my legs, my arousal coating his lips, stubble, and nose. "If you want to baby, it's a reward." I felt my body tremble before a felt something spray out of me, I had squirted all over his face. Shit. "Now, for your little punishment." I looked at him with fear. "I told you untie me." I felt him tie me to the bed, I watched as he pulled his cock out and then rammed it into me. My back arching off the bed as I screamed, wrapping my legs around him as he pounded into me. "If you cum I'll fuck you even after you pass out." I felt my body convulse as he angled just to hit my spot. "Please Divine Ruler" He shook his head no, placing a hand on my mouth still pounding into me before painting my insides and thighs white with his cum. I felt my second orgasm being snatched from me making me whine. "Go to sleep bunny, no more surprises."

[hwaberry-dreams]

THIRTEEN: like high school again

Warnings: suggestive content, mild after sex bruising, some ‘mean girl’ attitudes, swearing

Word count: 5.7K

Taglist: @kiwibaekie @fudgeflyssworld @kodzukein @elk-1998 @khjcoo @pepperony-7 @ateez-babygirl​

“Morning princess.” Mingi whispers into my ear, wrapping his arms around me from behind as I jump slightly.

“No! You should still be in bed!” I whine, “Why are you up?” I ask turning in his arms to face him.

“Because I woke up to find a giant empty space beside me and a delicious and alluring smell of bacon coming through the door.” He smiles at me.

“I was trying to surprise you with breakfast in bed.” I pout up at him, my hands flat on his bare chest, moving slowly upwards.

“It should be me making you breakfast.” He grins. “Especially after last night.”

I feel myself blush as I remember the night before. In an attempt to hide my pink cheeks, I pull his head into my neck as I go up on my tiptoes to hug him. I instantly regret doing this as his lips begin to kiss my neck, moving down to my chest.

“Still wearing my shirt I see.” He mumbles, opening one button to reveal the peak of my breasts. “And no bra on either.” He tuts before opening another. “It’s almost like you wanted me to find you in here like this.” His lips move lower as he opens the top of the shirt and places kisses on my breasts.

“Mingi…” I whine pathetically as my head falls back when his lips connect with my nipple. My fingers thread through his hair as he teases it with his tongue before doing the same to the other one.

Mingi suddenly spins us around and lifts me onto the island counter. “At least you are wearing shorts.” He chuckles as he pulls my legs around his waist before kissing me. My arms wrap loosely around his shoulders as I smile into the kiss. His hands move up from my thighs to my waist and around my back. The kiss is slow and soft, but full of passion, too. Little moans and whines coming from us both as we press our bodies closer. One of his hands goes to my thigh, squeezing the flesh before moving underneath the shirt and resting on my lower back.

We are so lost in one another we don’t notice the bacon start to burn until the smell hits us. Mingi immediately pulls away from me and moves the pan off the hob, turning it off at the same time.

“Guess the bacons ruined.” He laughs as he shows me the blackened meat 

“Yeah, there is no saving that.” I giggle as he puts in the bin. “Can’t believe you made me burn my food!”

“Well, maybe next time I won’t give you kisses.” he grins, placing his hands flat on the counter on either side of my hips.

“No!” I pout playfully, pulling him towards me. “I want your kisses.”

“hmm, I don’t know. What if my lips distract you again?” he teases as his lips ghost over my own.

“Next time, I’ll turn the gas off so you can distract me with these lips as much as you want.” I grin before kissing him once more.

“Since the bacon is now ruined, how about I make us something?” he asks as our lips 

“You want to cook for me?” I ask, raising my eyebrows at him.

“I didn’t say cook!” He chuckles. “Unless putting milk into cereal and bread into a toaster counts as cooking.” “Bread in the toaster possibly, but milk in cereal, not so much.” I laugh 

“So toast then?” He grins. His lips are so close to mine that I can feel his breath. “That way I can say I cooked for you!”

“Toast sounds good!” I nod softly, kissing him.

He lifts me off the island counter and puts me on the ground, placing a soft kiss on my forehead. I wince lightly at a slight burning in my thighs. Thankfully, Mingi doesn’t see it. We get to work on the toast, Mingi asking if I can make him a cup of my ‘british tea’. I am always trying to convert people to this type of tea as it is honestly the best tea ever, so hearing him ask makes me happy, and smile like an idiot as I pour him a mug. I begin with one sugar and a drop of milk and get him to try it, adjusting each component until it’s at a level he likes and it seems 4 teaspoons of sugar and a standard amount of milk is how he likes it. For me, it is lots of milk and 2 sugars. We eat our toast and drink our tea in the dining area before washing up and going into the lounge.

“When are you going for your run?” Mingi asks as we sit down on the sofa.

“I don’t feel up to it this morning.” I reply as he opens his arms for me to cuddle into him.

“Are you ok?” He asks. “It isn’t like you not to go for a run.”

“I am fine.” I smile at him as we hear someone come downstairs. “More than fine, actually. Just tired from last night.” I add quietly. “In a good way.” I lean up to kiss his cheek. 

While I was tired, I didn’t want to tell him that my thighs and legs were feeling rather tender. When I had woke up this morning, they were aching and there were some bruises on them from the previous nights activities. I was reluctant to let Mingi see them in case he thought he had hurt me, so I pull the bottom of his shirt over my thighs more to cover them.

“Good morning!” Yunhos usual cheery voice says as he walks to the kitchen.

“Morning!” Mingi and I say at the same time and in the same tone, but our eyes focused on one another.

“Did I really tire you out that much?” He whispers, his fingers touching my neck.

“Anyone want coffee?” Yunho’s voice comes from the kitchen

“Well, not so much the first time, but by the third time, I was exhausted.” I grin at him as his face comes closer to mine. “I don’t even know how you had the stamina for that 4th round.” A small giggle escapes me as he looks very pleased with himself.

“Well, to be honest, the 4th time was a lazy spoon.” He smirks as he pulls me onto his lap sideways.

“Lazy? You were rather spirited towards the end.” I raise my eyebrows at him as I wrap my arms around his shoulders 

“Coffee? Anyone?” Yunhos voice says again, louder this time.

“We are good.” Mingi replies to him, leaning over. “It was hard not to get ‘spirited’ when you were moaning my name so beautifully, digging your nails into my arm and making me feel so good.” His lips finally touching mine.

I kiss him back as we both giggle. His arms pull me closer to him. I feel like I cannot get enough of him. He has me held tightly to his body, his hands on my waist, his lips on mine, and despite that, I want more of him. I break the kiss to ask if he wants to go back to my bedroom when Yunhos teasing voice comes from the doorway stops me. “So I am assuming you two had a good night?”

I find myself putting my head into Mingis neck, knowing my face is turning red. I feel his arms move higher around me in a protective manner.

“Yunho.” Mingi warns lightly

“I am just messing with you.” Yunho chuckles as I turn my head to look at him while still keeping it safely in Mingis neck. “I am sorry Luna.” he adds with a more sincere tone as he sits on the other side of the sofa from us

“It is ok, I know you are only teasing.” I say “I should go get a shower. I need to leave for the office soon.”

“I can take my coffee upstairs if you two want some more time alone.” Yunho replies as I push myself up from Mingis lap. His hands hold on to my hips, helping to keep me steady. “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable with what I said.”

“Of course you didn’t. I genuinely need a shower. I feel so icky from last night.” I say as Mingi stifles a laugh and I realise what I’ve said. “I mean from the sweat.” I add, Yunhos turn to hide a laugh “because it was hot! In bed! My room was hot!” With each sentence, I am making it worse and I can feel my face getting redder as they both begin to laugh. “I am just going to shut up.” I say, covering my face.

“Oh princess, don’t be embarrassed.” Mingi laughs as I feel his hands move around my waist, his head resting on my stomach.

“I am not embarrassed, you two are just dirty minded!” I laugh, taking my hand away from my face to play with Mingis hair, but inside I am a tiny bit embarrassed at my stumbling attempt to put across what I meant. It doesn’t help that I am standing here wearing the shirt Mingi was wearing yesterday during his birthday live and Mingi is still in only his boxers. It’s pretty obvious to Yunho that we were together last night.

“I’ll come too. I need to get my things from your room.” Mingi says standing up.

“I’ll see you later on.” I say to Yunho as he smiles back at me, taking a sip of his coffee. Mingi follows me into my bedroom. As I look out my clothes for the day, he collects his things from my bedroom floor. I take off his shirt and replace it with my fluffy dressing gown.

“Thank you for yesterday.” He smiles at me as I hand the shirt back to him. “I enjoyed spending the day with you and the night, too. And not just because of the sex. I’ve loved falling asleep with you in my arms and waking up to you beside me too the past 2 nights.”

“Me too.” I smile as he puts his arms around my shoulders. “I am glad we got time alone together.”

“So am I, princess.” He says before kissing me. I smile into the kiss at the sound of his nickname for me. No one has ever called me this and I like it. I like all the nicknames so far. Seonghwas darling, Yunhos little one, Sans sunshine. It made me feel special to them. The kiss is soft and affectionate. When our lips part he whispers “I hope you know how happy you make all of us.” and instantly my face heats and I know I am blushing like crazy but he pulls me into his body and my face is hidden from view in his bare chest. “I will let you get into the shower.” He says after a few moments of cuddling. “I’ll see you later, though.”

He pulls away from me to look at my face and I pray the blushing has calmed down. It’s still hot so I am not hopeful it has but if it is he isn’t letting on he can see it. Instead, he leans down and kisses me once more before finally letting go of my body. I watch as he puts his trousers on and the shirt that I was wearing the entire night. He smiles softly and says, “smells just like you.”

“I hope that’s in a good way and not a stinky way.” I laugh.

“A very good way. I can smell your perfume on it faintly. I love the way you smell. In a nonperverted way!” He chuckles. “It calms me. Probably why I have slept so well these past 2 nights.”

“Well, I can always spray something with my perfume so you can smell me whenever you want to.” I offer.

He smiles widely at me and I feel a flutter in my heart at how beautiful his smile is, how it honestly lights up the room and makes me smile back at him. “I would really like that.”

An hour later, I am showered and ready to leave for work. Everyone is upstairs getting ready for their own day of work, so I am in the kitchen making sure I have everything I need when Jongho walks in. He stops when he sees me and takes 2 steps backwards and goes around the corner again. I don’t think he realises I saw him out the corner of my eye as my head is down while I finish packing my things. 

He was still reluctant to be alone with me and while I understand why; it was beginning to hurt a little. I was trying hard to put him at ease and be comfortable around me, but there was still some barrier between us. It was mind-boggling too, as we are really chatty to one another but the second we are alone; it is awkward silence, and he leaves as quickly as he can. I am surprised when he comes back in to the kitchen moments after backing out of it. 

“Morning.” He smiles at me, his hand touching my back as he walks past me. I am surprised at the touch, but I don’t mind it either. “Are you coming to the studio with us?” He asks me as he pours himself a coffee

“I will be there later for the fancalls but hopefully I can get there before the performance, but I have 2 meetings in the office today.” I answer, putting my laptop in my bag. “I have my first work review, too.” I sigh lightly as I feel the nerves bubble inside my stomach. 

“You aren’t worried about it, are you?” He asks, walking over to me.

“I keep trying to tell myself it will be fine. It will be like work reviews I’ve had in the past, but I am really anxious.” I decide to be honest instead of putting a fake smile on and lying to him. I softly rub my wrist through my sleeve. It was something I did when I would feel anxious. It was more for reassurance that I am OK, that although I am anxious in that moment that things are not as bad as they once were, and not about hurting myself.

“Please don’t worry.” He says.

“I know I shouldn’t, but I love this job more than anything. It’s what I’ve wanted to do since I was a kid, what I studied for and came to Korea for. If I lose this job, I don’t know what I will do.” I say, “and then I’ll have to leave you all.” I add quietly 

“Hey, don’t think like that, sweetheart.You aren’t going anywhere.” His hand delicately cups my cheek. I feel my stomach flip at both his touch and the affectionate name. “It will go well. You are the best English teacher we’ve had. You have nothing to worry about.” he carries on, his thumb stroking my face.

“I hope so.” I sigh lightly.

“You want me to break an apple in half?” He grins as I laugh.

He knows how much I love his apple breaking skills.

“Maybe later. If the review goes badly, then I will bring an apple and you can make me forget it with your mad skills.” I say.

“Deal, but it won’t go badly. Trust me.” He smiles. “Still bring an apple, though. I need to impress you and if apple breaking is it, then I’ll break all the damn apples.”

“You don’t need to impress me.” I smile at him.

We share a little moment of silence as we both smile at one another. It isn’t often we are alone like this. “Luna, I was wondering if we could…” He begins but Wooyoung shouting from the lounge that Myeonjin was pulling into the private garage downstairs, makes him stop and he pulls his gaze away from me. I feel my body shift slightly, wondering what he was going to ask, and a little frustrated he got interrupted. Obviously not at anyone in particular, just in general. 

I am about to ask him what he was saying when he lifts my bag and puts it over my shoulder, gently removing my hair from the strap so it didn’t get caught. I feel suddenly shy as he smiles at me. This is the most affectionate he has been with me.

“It’s cold this morning.” He says, pulling both sides of my long grey coat together and doing the buttons. My heart is racing and I pray he can’t feel it through my chest as his fingers close the buttons at the top of my coat.

“You look really pretty today.” He says quietly, his hand touching my face again. “Well, everyday I mean. But especially today.” He adds rather quickly as I smile gently at how flustered he has suddenly become.

“Thank you Jongho.” I say softly. “I guess I’ll see you later at the studio.” I reluctantly move away from him and towards the hallway.

“Luna!” I hear him say, causing me to turn around. I see he is holding up an apple in both hands and he very easily and perfectly splits it down the middle, a massive smile on his face.

“Bravo!” I laugh and clap as he hands me one half.

“Eat this in the car and don’t worry about your meetings.” He smiles at me before taking a bite from the other half.

As I walk into the hallway to put my shoes on, I see Yeosang standing there with a smile on his face, holding my usual sneakers in his hand. “What are you doing?” I giggle as he signals for me to sit down on the small bench.

“Putting your sneakers on for you.” He smiles as I sit down. A small hiss escapes me as a pain shoots through my legs at dropping onto the bench too quickly 

“Are you okay?” He asks looking into my eyes 

“Fine, sat down too fast. Hit my back off the wall. My clumsiness kicking in as usual!” I laugh. I wasn’t about to tell him my legs were aching because Mingi and I were having sex most of the night!

“As long as you are not hurt!” He says 

“I am all good!” I smile at him.

I watch his face as he puts my sneakers on and ties them. I’ve never had someone do these things for me, little things like this, but I am enjoying these things they all do for me. He fixes the bottom of my trousers over the sneakers before standing up and holding out his hand for me. As soon as I am upright, his lips capture mine. It takes me by surprise, but I melt into him. My fingers grip onto the sides of his t-shirt. One hand cups my cheek and the other moves to my lower back, pulling me closer to him as he backs me up against the wall. 

This was twice now he has got me in the hallway, trapped between himself and the wall and I was not complaining at all. I like this side of Yeosang, the assertive, almost dominant side that I never expected from him. My mind wonders if he is this way in bed, too, which causes my fingers to grip his T-shirt tighter at the sheer idea of it. My thoughts are interrupted when he pulls his lips away from mine.

“I’ll see you at the studio later.” He says, his tone is more of a question than a statement.

“Of course.” I reply, looking into his brown eyes. “I will be there as soon as I’ve finished at the office.”

“Good.” He sighs lightly, almost in relief that I will be there. “I’ll let you go to work.” He pulls away from me more, but I lean forward and kiss his lips once more. Craving just one more fleeting kiss from him before I have to leave. He smiles shyly at me when we part and he opens the door for me. “I’ll see you later.” I say, smiling at him as I walk out the door. Once again, I walk towards the lift as if I am floating on a cloud. This was becoming a habit now.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The conference room is already busy when I walk in. I find a seat in the corner and sit down. I hadn’t really had a proper chance to speak to the other staff members yet, and this was my first official meeting, too. Everyone was talking happily to one another as I sat by myself. In the opposite corner I see the 2 staff members from the other day. They are whispering things to one another and giggling. Just like the other day.

“Ok, everyone is here, so let’s get started.” Myeonjin says as he walks in.

The entire room goes quiet and I see most people opening their laptops and begin typing. I quickly open mine and log in. This is my first meeting, and no one has briefed me on what it was about, what I would do in it, etc. So I decide to just copy what others are doing. I notice the guy beside me has a text document open, so I open mine.

“We have a lot of things coming up so everyone will be busy. As usual, I urge you all to work together and help others wherever possible!” He says, his eyes focusing on the 2 women in the corner. “Once promotions are over, we have a lot of filming schedules coming up. Both as a group and individually.”

My eyes shift to the laptop beside me and I see the guy is typing pretty much what Myeonjin is saying.

“Before we start, it is important that you all need to know that we have a member of staff who has severe allergies.” He says as I feel my stomach drop. I did not know he was going to mention this. I look up from my laptop at him, my eyes wide. “While on tour and in the office, there will be no seafood available.” I hear a couple of people groan lowly, clearly annoyed.

“Why?!” I hear one of the women asks loudly

“Because it is too dangerous, Chaeyoung!” Myeonjin sighs

“So why not just keep that ‘member of staff’ away from the food and let us enjoy what we want to eat?” She asks. I notice she looks me dead in the eyes and has a tone of disgust in her voice as she says ‘member of staff’. I suddenly feel very self-conscious.

“That is not how it works. A food allergy as severe as this needs to be taken serious. If you want seafood, you are welcome to buy your own and consume it in a safe place.” He replies. “I am sure you all remember the peanut incident last year!”

“So because one person can’t tolerate it, we have to use our own money to buy our own?” She continues. “How is that fair? It is just one person!!”

“A food allergy is a little more than not being able to ‘tolerate’ a certain food!” one of the hair stylists Jiyeon says. “Because someone left peanuts in the makeup room at my workstation, I ended up in hospital!” I didn’t realise she had a food allergy. 

“So dramatic! You coughed, got a shot with that thing in your bag and were fine!” Chaeyoung scoffs and I am shocked. At her attitude and her words. Anaphylaxis shock is more than a cough. Having to get an epi-pen shot isn’t nice and you certainly aren’t ‘fine’ after it either. Even a small one can leave you exhausted for days afterwards. I see Jiyeon shoot Chaeyoung daggers with her eyes before looking away from her.

“Chaeyoung I will not argue with you on this matter!” Myeonjin interjects. “We will still provide food for staff members, but if anyone wants seafood, you pay for it yourself, consume it in a safe manner and not in a work environment either.”

“This is bullshit.” The other woman says under her breath, but loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. Which is exactly what she wanted, given the smirk on her face right now.

“Same goes for you, Iseul! If anyone else has a problem with this, then feel free to come talk to me about it. I will not discuss this any further in here!” He says sternly.

My eyes look towards the 2 women and I can see them staring at me. Their eyes are narrowed, and it is making me feel really uncomfortable. I begin to wonder what I did to make them act this way towards me when I have had none direct contact with them yet.

“Ignore them.” I hear from beside me. I look at the guy who’s laptop I kept looking at seeing him smile at me. “They are always causing a fuss about something. It’s like high school all over again with those two around!” I smile politely at him and bow my head slightly. “I know we haven’t properly met yet, but I am Hyunshik.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I am Luna.” I whisper back before Myeonjin continues.

“First things first, we have the upcoming trip to LA for KCon. There are a lot of schedules for them while we are there. Not just performing, and interviews but fansigns and in person events. Luna, you will be working at every event if the guys need any help with their English.” He says, looking at me as I nod and type what he has said. I hear yet another snigger from across the table. I wonder what their problem is and why they keep laughing in my direction. “If it isn’t too much trouble for everyone to pay attention please!” he adds, looking at them

“Sorry.” Iseul says, but you could tell there was nothing genuine in her apology at all.

“We have provisional dates for the Europe tour in the new year, but we won’t be announcing them until we have confirmation from the venues. Luna, I’ll have a meeting with you closer to the time to discuss the live onstage translations.” I nod and type away on my laptop. “First, we have the US tour dates ready to be released later this week. We have completed the tour set list. The band’s rehearsals will begin as soon as the promotions are over. Stylists will have a meeting tomorrow to begin work on the outfits.”

The rest of the meeting goes without anymore interruptions. If you ignore the whispering and quiet giggles from Chaeyoung and Iseul that is! When it is finished I pack my things.

“It was nice to meet you properly.” Hyunsik says to me.

“You too!” I smile at him.

“Not everyone is like the mean twins over there.” he tilts his head towards them. “Most of us are nice! Some of us are going out for a meal tomorrow night. You are more than welcome to join us.”

“That would have been nice, but I already have plans. Sorry!” I say. San and I had already planned to watch some more of The Sound of Magic after work.

“Maybe next time! We usually go out once a month.” he replies.

“Yeah, maybe.” I nod, smiling. “Anyway, I better go. I have my first work review meeting and then I am going to the studio for the fan calls.”

“I’ll see you around.” he smiles back before picking up his laptop and leaving the conference room.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When I walk into the band’s private waiting area at the studio, they are all sitting around. I suddenly feel everything from today pile on top of me and my body feels really heavy. Yunho is the first to see me walk in and comes over.

“How were your meetings?” He asks, hugging me placing a subtle kiss on my forehead

“They were fine.” I reply, forcing a smile.

“No, they weren’t. What happened?” He leans down to look into my eyes. Yunho always seems to know when things aren’t right and quick to pick up on other peoples emotions. I was a fool to think he wouldn’t notice. The others are looking at me now as I drop my bag onto the table and sigh.

“Was it your work review meeting?” Jongho asks, standing up from his seat, and I can see the concern in his eyes. 

“No Jongho, my work review actually went amazing.” I say, looking at him. “All positive!” I rub at my wrist, feeling my anxiety creep in as all their eyes are on me now. I notice Hongjoongs eyes looking at it, so I immediately stop.

“I told you it would be fine.” He smiles at me.

“What happened in your other meetings?” Hongjoong asks 

“Nothing really happened.” I lie. I don’t want to tell them about Chaeyoung and Iseul. “Myeonjin mentioned my allergies in the main meeting, and I didn’t know he was going to do it. It just took me by surprise, is all.”

“Ah, we didn’t know either.” Seonghwa says, putting his arm around my shoulders.

“I am so sorry! We should have spoken to him properly. Let him know how you feel about it all. What did he say?” Hongjoong asks.

“Just that a ‘member of staff’ has severe allergies and seafood won’t be allowed anymore. He was trying to be discreet by not naming me, but everyone knew it was me. I am the only new member of staff and there has never been a seafood issue before me. It just made me feel awkward, was all.” I say as they look at me. “I am fine now though, honestly!” I add as Wooyoung pulls me into his arms, placing a kiss on the side of my head. I put my arms around him and sink into his embrace, burying my head into his neck. I feel at ease now I am with them again.

After a line of greetings, hugs and some kisses from the others, they go back to what they were doing before I came in, but Hongjoong stays beside me.

“Luna, could I have a quick word with you? In private?” He asks quietly. I nod and follow him into a side room that is empty. He closes the door and turns to me. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I am fine! Honestly, I am.” I answer.

“I know you don’t enjoy being fussed over and I am sure being asked if you are ok falls heavily into that category, so I apologise.” He says, locking eyes with me. “But I need to know how you are really feeling. I… I don’t want anything to happen to you or for you to feel… you know.”

And I do know. It’s crystal clear he is talking about my mental health and what I did to myself, but he is trying to be discreet about the subject.

“The bipolar and the scars, you mean.” I say as he nods slowly. “You can say the words, you know. I won’t get upset.”

“I saw you were rubbing harshly at your arm.” He says. “I can’t lie, but it sort of made me concerned.”

“It is fine. I am not just saying that. It’s a thing I do whenever I feel a bit… overwhelmed, I guess, is the term to describe it. I don’t know how to explain why I do it without sounding crazy. Which is ironic given I have the crazy condition!” I say.

“I don’t want to hear you call yourself that. You aren’t crazy!” He says, stepping forward and reaching for my hand. “Just say it how it is. I won’t judge.” I know he won’t, but I’ve never actually said these words out loud. No one has ever noticed me doing it before either and if they have, they’ve never asked about it.

“When I do that, it’s not in a way to harm myself or that I am thinking of doing it, but it is in a way of comfort. It is like in that moment things may feel bad or overwhelming, but it isn’t as bad as it could be.” I answer, praying I am making some sense to him. “Sometimes I don’t realise I am doing it.”

“So you aren’t feeling the need to.. do anything then when you rub at it?” He asks. His eyes are big and I can see the genuine concern for me in them.

“Absolutely not!” I say, holding his hands tighter. “It is like a reminder that things are ok and that I am ok. It’s crazy, I know, but…” and I struggle to find the words to finish my sentence.

“It helps keep you grounded?” He ventures. I smile at him and nod because he got it in one. “Ok, that’s good. I understand.” He sighs lightly and honestly, he looks slightly relieved, too.

“Joongie, I don’t want you to worry about me. I’ve been stable for a long time and I can’t see anything changing that anytime soon. Not when I have 8 really amazing guys taking care of me the way you all do.” I say to him. He smiles at me, his hands letting go of mine and moving to my waist, pulling me into him. “And yes, while I don’t like being fussed over. For all of you, I think I can make the exception. It comes from a good place, and it is not overbearing.” 

“Are you actually giving us permission to fuss over you?” He grins at me, his arms moving higher.

“Maybe a little.” I giggle, putting my arms around his waist. “Today was a hard day, but now that I am here with you, I feel better now.” I rest my head on his shoulder, closing my eyes and enjoying this moment with him. “A lot better.” I sigh happily.

“I feel better too. Now you are here.” He replies.