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suashii · 4 months

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— 𝓂𝒾𝓈𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒𝒹 𝓁𝓊𝓈𝓉 ౨ৎ

okkotsu yuta x f!reader. 2.1k wc. ﾉ nsfw (mdni) ﾉ characters aged 21+ ﾉ step-brother!yuta ﾉ stepcest ﾉ dubcon (via alcohol) ﾉ hand job ﾉ mentions of blow jobs

when your mother remarries and yuta comes into your life to fill the role of step-brother, you aren’t exactly sure what to expect.

you’ve never had a brother before, no one to threaten boys in an attempt to discourage them from breaking your heart or annoy you when you have friends over for the night. and you anticipate that he’ll fit the mold, fall into the standard that’s been set by your friends. as unfamiliar as you are with siblings of the male variety—you don’t consider yuta’s behavior as brotherly.

he’s kind, and you suppose that’s a trait that can be attached to brothers—but not in the way yuta is nice. there’s something… different about the way he smiles at you, like he’s thinking about things other than what you’re talking about, like there's something else on his mind that you aren’t privy to. it’s a pretty smile, you acknowledge every time you see, but it makes you a bit uneasy.

the things he does for you feel more like acts boyfriends take on—opening doors for you, zipping up your coat, offering to take your makeup off after a long day. it’s hard to turn him away or tell him no, especially when he insists on helping you out. how can you deny him when he wears a pout that’s practically begging for your permission to lend a hand? and, as he says, he’s your brother, after all.

you’re close, but not in the way siblings should be. he tells you a lot, things that he shouldn’t feel comfortable telling his sister, things about his relationships that you have no business knowing, that make your cheeks warm up and your teeth bite down on your lip. he asks about yours, too, curious to know whether or not the boys you bring around are satisfying you, “the way they should be,” he likes to say. you’re never quite sure how to answer him or just why he’s so interested in parts of your life that are meant to be private.

things have gotten even stranger since the two of you moved out of your parent’s home, relocating to live on your own and start lives outside of your family unit. yuta still makes an effort to visit you often, going out of his way to make sure the apartment you end up renting isn't too far from his. you’re sure that if it were up to him, he’d have you living in his spare room.

he’s over your place now with the intention of “catching up” despite seeing you only a week ago. his presence in your home has become a normal one, so much so that you’ve gone out of your way to get him his own pair of slippers and even make sure that your fridge is always stocked with enough food for two.

neither of you has paid the dinner you made much mind, you focusing on your wine and yuta focusing on you. you’ve almost gotten used to being the subject of his dark stare, but you’ll admit that meeting it is a little easier with alcohol in your system. another sip of the beverage is enough for you to find your voice. “so, how’s that girl you’ve been seeing?”

whether it’s because your living room is dimly lit or because you’re starting to feel the effects of the wine, you swear you see yuta deflate with your question. the lighting isn’t tricking you—his shoulders do slump a bit upon hearing your query. he knows he’s forthcoming with information regarding his relationships but he thought he made the fact clear; that all of these girls are simply placeholders for the one he truly wants. you don’t seem to have caught on. “i’m not seeing her anymore.”

you snort, swirling your wine in its glass. “what was it about this one?”

yuta’s turnover rate with girlfriends is something to gawk at—you don’t think you could count the number of women he’s wooed over the years even if you tried… not that you’ve ever found yourself keeping track. it should be a glaring red flag, how quickly he moves on from one to the next without batting an eye, but you merely chalk it up to him being a bit of a player. and that much should mean nothing to you. guys who sleep around aren’t your type and even if you didn’t mind the lifestyle, yuta is off-limits.

not that you’ve ever thought of him in that way.

yuta shrugs. “she just wasn’t right for me.”

“is anyone?” a giggle bubbles up from your chest and it makes yuta’s heart jump, bang against his ribcage like it’s trying to escape and make its way into your hands. he’s met with a sick thought, a little voice in the back of his head whispering that your hands are where his heart belongs. “you know, you’re super picky.”

he grins at your claim. it wouldn’t be untrue to say that he has acquired a specific taste, a fixed hunger, over the past few years. “picky” isn’t quite the right word—he prefers “particular”. “i’m not, i just know what i want.”

you nod, bringing your glass to your lips. “and what’s that?”

“you.”

the little bit of wine that made it into your mouth is sputtered back into the glass as yuta’s confession wafts through the air. you’re too busy trying to compose yourself to see the way the corners of yuta’s mouth twitch at your reaction—how his gaze falls to your lips to watch how you lick them to clean up the mess of wine.

you’ve always thought that he’s treated you like someone other than a sister but you never imagined he’d come right out and say it, and so shamelessly, at that. your cheeks heat up as the single word hangs in the air, the warmth spreading up to the tips of your ears and some other place that you try not to acknowledge.

what’s worse, the admission doesn’t make your stomach churn in disgust. it doesn’t urge you to stand up and kick him out—tell him not to come back and leave you alone for good. because as much as you like to deny it, to push those sickening feelings down into the deepest, darkest depths of you, there’s a piece of you that feels the same.

“you’ve thought about it, too, haven’t you?” yuta’s voice cuts through the thick, suffocating air surrounding you. there’s an edge to his tone that you haven’t heard before that has you dragging your bashful gaze up to his.

“it’s okay. there’s nothing wrong with it,” he reassures you as if he can hear the doubts swimming in your head like angry piranhas. his hand finds yours and you jump at the contact but you don’t pull away. the pad of his thumb runs over your knuckles, calloused skin comforting you in a way it shouldn’t as he continues. “we’re not actually related—only by title.”

“yeah but… what would people think?” it’s taboo, you know that much—it’s why you’ve been so hellbent on suppressing those nagging feelings of attraction throughout the years. though, with his confession now out in the open, those very feelings are trying to crawl their way up from the depths of your chest—they’re surfacing.

“no one has to know.” yuta lightly shakes his head to emphasize his point. the eyes staring you down are glistening with desire, like your question has given the man hope for a long sought-after fantasy. “we can keep it between us… our little secret.”

you chew the inside of your cheek as you ponder over his suggestion. the rational part of you is screaming to snatch your hand away and point him to the door but the part of you led by longing and lust urges you to stay put, to see this through. the two thoughts are like a floating angel and devil on each of your shoulders, both of them whispering in your ear, playing tug-of-war to see which side will win your favor.

the push you need to make a decision comes in the form of yuta himself, the man lifting your hand from your lap to his lips. a light kiss brushes your knuckles before he guides your palm to the tent between his legs. you suck in a surprised gasp at the contact your hand makes with the hard bulge.

“see what you do to me?” yuta breathes out, light and airy, “only you can do this to me.”

a twisted sense of pride sprouts in your chest upon hearing his declaration. yuta has never hidden the fact that you’re special to him but you never imagined just how special that was. the statement gives you the confidence to touch him of your own will, hand tentatively rubbing over his clothed erection.

yuta lets out a shattered breath and the sound has your hand stilling and your gaze darting up to his—like a bunny spooked by unexpected commotion. his free hand makes its way up to cradle the side of your face, thumb running up and down your cheek. “keep going, baby.”

you swallow and nod your head, hand picking up where it left off in its exploration over his jeans. as pretty as the quiet moans yuta releases into the air are, you can’t help but think it would feel better—for the both of you—if there wasn’t a denim barrier between the two of you.

your fingers reluctantly reach for his belt before pausing in their path. you look up at him through your eyelashes. “c-can i?”

yuta didn’t think it was possible for him to get even more turned on—not after your initial acceptance, not after he finally felt your touch, but your questions has his pants growing uncomfortably tighter. you’ve always been cute in his eyes but your asking for permission gives him all the more reason to find you absolutely adorable. “please.”

dark eyes follow your fingers as they fumble to unbuckle the man’s belt. you’re not sure whether your shaky hands are due to nerves or excitement but the trembling doesn’t go unnoticed by yuta and when you get his pants and boxers down his hips, he places a steady hand on your quivering one.

it’s warm and big around yours and you don’t question his action, only let him take your hand, guide it to the cock you’ve just pulled out. you’re no longer afraid to admit that you’ve thought about it before—what yuta’s cock looked like. it’s different seeing the real thing and you find your mouth drying with the sight, lips parted as yuta continues to steer your hand.

both of you gasp when your palm meets his skin, dragging beads of precum down yuta’s shaft with his guidance. beyond your mingled breaths, the lewd squelching that accompanies each assisted stroke of yuta’s cock sounds in the otherwise quiet air.

yuta grunts as he helps you jerk his cock, a pleasure he’s never felt before washing over him. “f-fuck—” he chokes out, “i knew you’d feel this good.”

your hand alone is better than any mouth or pussy he’s been in—it fits like a glove, fingers grazing every vein just right, brushing over his slit, squeezing his shaft. god—if your hand feels this good, yuta can only imagine what it’ll be like to have your lips wrapped around him, to be buried in the warmth of your cunt. he wonders if you know just what effect you have on him, if you’re aware of how much of a mess the mere thought of you turns him into.

the moment you look up at him with those doe-ish eyes of yours, he can’t hold out any longer.

and with a series of strangled moans, yuta comes, ropes of warm cum shooting over your joined hands. you can feel him soften in your hand as you stroke his cock through his high, his musical whimpers meeting your ears.

when he finds his voice, yuta speaks up. “made me come so good.”

his hand finally lifts from yours and you’d complain about the cold, empty feeling if it wasn’t relocated beneath your chin. yuta tips your head up, leaning down to steal a kiss. his lips are pillowy and soft as they dance with yours and you moan into his mouth when his tongue seeks yours. it’s a messy, wet kiss, but one that has you yearning for more—more of his lips, more of his cock, more of him.

you let out a muffled squeal when you feel yourself reclining, yuta’s weight and imposing presence hovering above you as you come to lie back on the couch. you suck in a breath after yuta pulls away. he presses his forehead against yours, meeting your widened gaze.

“let me take care of you, baby.”

heyooo ! this is my first time writing a solo piece for yuta — it was fun! hope you enjoyed and if you did, consider reblogging and offering some feedback :3

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: jujutsu kaisen #yuta x reader #yuuta x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #yuta smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #𐙚 after hours #cw stepcest

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steddiealltheway · 1 year

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Au where HoH Steve keeps getting pestered by his roommate and best friend Robin to learn sign language in case his hearing gets worse. Plus, when he gets his migraines it might be easier to communicate.

He goes to the bookstore and finds a sign language book and signs to himself trying to pick up the basics. And, to his surprise, he takes to it pretty quickly and easily learns at least the alphabet.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Flash over to Eddie who has been coming to this bookstore because they surprisingly have D&D guides and a huge fantasy section - plus, Murray, the owner, sometimes lends him books instead of making him buy them.

But when he glances around and takes in the familiar surroundings and spots the very unfamiliar new guy in his favorite chair in the corner, he instantly freezes. Because this guy is his absolute dream guy.

Eddie thinks about how he made a New Years resolution that he wasn’t going to run away from things anymore. This time, he’ll actually go after what he wants. He walks towards the man, but stops in his tracks as he watches the man sign to himself.

Eddie takes a moment then decides that this won’t deter him. Instead of going to the fantasy section, Eddie goes over to the language section and grabs the first sign language book he finds. He goes to the register and gestures to the corner while asking Murray, “How long has he been here?”

Murray glances and shrugs. “Only a few days, but it looks like he’s going to keep coming back. Why?”

Eddie looks down and tries to figure out what to say.

“Ooooh. I see,” Murray says with a big smile and motions to the book.

Eddie feels himself flush red as he replies, “I’m thinking of asking him out in sign language. Rather than just, writing it down, you know.”

Murray stares at him for a moment but then scans the book and hands it to him. As Eddie takes it, Murray says, “You should probably know that he…” He trails off and gets a big smile on his face that sets off the warning signs in Eddie’s head. “He’s going to love that,” Murray finishes. “Have a good day!”

Eddie looks at Murray for a second before finally deciding that he’s just a strange man, and everything he says sounds strangely cryptic. So he shrugs it off and hurries home to start learning.

-:-:-:-:-:-

A few days later, and Steve finds himself sitting in the same bookstore with another sign language guide after Robin bet him that he wouldn’t keep up with learning the language. And although he may have started to give up a bit, he went right back into it to prove Robin wrong. Plus, there was twenty bucks on the line.

He’s caught up in the sign for “bitch” when he’s tapped on the shoulder. He jumps back and looks up at a guy with longer dark curly hair and big brown eyes. In his speechlessness, he nearly doesn’t notice the man rubbing his chest with his fist.

But Steve notices the circular motion, and then realizes that it’s definitely a sign for something. Oh! Sorry

Steve smiles widely at the man who smiles back at him. He points at him and signs your name? Steve can feel himself turn red as the deaf man takes pity on him and very slowly spells out E-B-B-I-E.

He points back at Steve who slowly spells out his name as well.

The other man nods with a smile and signs his name back quickly as if repeating it. Steve nods enthusiastically although he struggles with the difference between S and A, but he gets distracted and can’t help but sign beautiful as he stares up at Ebbie.

Ebbie scoffs. You are beautiful

No, you. Steve flirts easily. Maybe there will be a new motivation to learn sign language…

Ebbie pulls his hair in front of his now rosy cheeks, and takes a deep breath before quickly signing something which Steve gets none of. He really should’ve taken this sign language thing more seriously. He shakes his head at the man and hopes he doesn’t give up too quickly.

Ebbie looks a bit discouraged but slowly signs again, but Steve only captures you and want. Clearly this man is a bit too advanced for Steve.

Steve motions for a pen by just scribbling in the air since he hasn’t learned the sign for it yet, while praying that Ebbie doesn’t think he’s stupid. But the other man quickly nods and pulls a pen and small notebook out of his pocket as if he’s prepared for this moment. Which makes sense because he probably has to do this often.

Ebbie scribbles something fast and hesitates before showing it to Steve.

Do you want to go on a date?

Steve stares at the note and takes a minute to process while he tries to figure out what signs meant what. Then, he finally takes in what the question says, and makes eye contact with a very stressed looking Ebbie.

Yes, Steve replies as quickly as he can remember what the sign for it is.

Ebbie looks overjoyed for a moment, and then calmly signs F-R-I-D-A-Y. Then, he holds up his hands to show eight fingers and points down at the ground which Steve takes to mean here.

Yes, Steve replies dumbly not knowing how else to explain his gratitude.

Ebbie quickly gives him a thumbs up and waves at him goodbye. Steve waves back as Ebbie turns around and walks out of the store.

Steve can’t help but notice Murray hunched over at the register seeming to be crying from laughter. He wishes he was reading whatever book he has.

-:-:-:-:-:-

For the next three days, Eddie stops by the bookstore and has brief conversations with Ateve who takes pity on him and signs slowly for him. He even shows him a sign language book after noticing how poorly he’s signing.

Eddie’s just surprised that he agreed to the date after he signed the question so atrociously that Ateve couldn’t even vaguely understand it.

But he notices that he’s beginning to get slightly better at signing, but him and Ateve usually stick to spelling things out letter by letter until they have to ultimately go to the notebook.

But Eddie really likes Ateve. Sure, he has a weird name, but he has a really great personality that shows through even through his signing. Plus, his laughter is music to Eddie’s ears. He wonders what his voice would be like if he attempted to speak.

But that’s a horrible thing to think. Right? Eddie really doesn’t know the etiquette or what’s offensive in the deaf community. He needs to do more research. This research ends up taking him down a path of learning every curse he can in sign language… he feels oddly productive.

But then the day of the date comes, and Eddie really wishes he would’ve spent more time on learning things he could actually use. He ends up sticking to beautiful when he first sees Ateve.

Ateve smiles brightly and signs something that Eddie doesn’t recognize, but he signs thank you hoping for the best. It seems like the right response.

The walk over from the bookstore to Enzo’s is quiet except when they pass by Murray who is cackling by the register. For some reason, the past three days he’s had a laughing fit, but Eddie thinks maybe it’s just something he got from Alexei.

Eddie nearly whispers a pep talk under his breath as the approach the doors, but he doesn’t want Ateve to look over and see. Instead, he just holds up his fingers for two when they get inside and are quickly seated.

Eddie takes a moment to look at the menu before looking up at Ateve who shyly signs hi.

Eddie signs it back while biting back a huge smile before he sees a waiter approach from behind him. He’s been dreading this moment.

“Hello, gentlemen. What can-”

“He’s deaf,” Eddie says at the same time as someone else next to him. He turns and looks at Ateve who stares at Eddie in shock then he realizes…

“Holy shit,” Eddie says.

“Holy shit is right,” Ateve replies.

The waiter clears his throat, “I’ll be back in a moment.” He quickly walks away looking extremely confused but relieved to have been removed from the situation.

“I thought you were deaf.”

Ateve laughs, “Well, I’m Steve, and I’m a bit hard of hearing and sometimes get really intense migraines, so my roommate has been encouraging me to learn sign language.”

“Shit,” Eddie says and puts his head in his hands, “I thought your name was Ateve.” He laughs along with Steve and says, “I’m Eddie, and I started to learned sign language a few days ago after I saw you signing to yourself. But thank you for taking pity on me since you’re clearly advanced.”

“I stared learning days ago, and I thought you were fluent and taking pity on me. Plus, I thought your name was Ebbie.”

Eddie stares at Steve for a moment before laughing loud enough that the restaurant goes quiet as everyone turns to look at the commotion. Steve joins in after looking around.

The restaurant slowly resumes to the normal volume level as Eddie and Steve’s laughter dies down. Steve smiles and says, “If you want, we can still continue learning sign language. Together. If that’s something you’d be interested in…”

Eddie smiled back at him and replies, “Yeah, I’d really really like that.”

As the date goes on, they realize they have a natural connection and easily launch into multiple conversations, but then Eddie stops abruptly and asks, “Wait, did Murray know that you weren’t deaf?”

“Yes,” Steve answers confused but then a look of realization crosses over his face.

Bastard. Eddie signs.

Bitch. Steve signs back with a laugh.

Eddie finds that he can’t be too mad at Murray though because Steve deaf or not is absolutely perfect.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie ficlet #meddling Murray #hoh steve harrington #idiots to lovers #🌹🌹

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pierregazly · 7 months

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let's face it together ꨄ carlos sainz

carlos sainz x wife!reader

warnings: nightmares, mentions of anxiety, mentions of infidelity (in a nightmare) [wc: 2.3k words]

in which carlos' wife has been dealing with an onslaught of nightmares because of the heinous things people have been saying about her, and their relationship, online. carlos finds out, and does the only thing he can think of, he comforts her and professes his undying love.

The nightmares had been reoccurring for months. Waking up with beads of sweat dripping down your forehead, your heart racing, your mind trying to place exactly where you were in the very moment you woke up; it had been an unfortunately common event for quite some time now.

It was all something you had grown accustomed to. Getting used to waking up because of them was the easiest part, trying to force yourself to forget about the nightmares and the implicit meanings behind them? Well, that was far more difficult and was the part you were struggling to grasp the most.

They were always the most vivid after a night of scrolling through endless unkind messages and comments. Strangers, people you had never met, people your husband had never even met; all saying heinous things about you, to you, because of you. About your looks, about your career choices, about how Carlos could do better than you, about how he probably already has and knows how to hide it.

Deep down, you knew there was nothing to truly worry about when it came to Carlos and his dedication to your marriage, but once the overthinking set it… it was tough to push it back.

The nightmares, the overthinking, and the anxiety that accompanied the overthinking weren’t things you had ever expressed to Carlos. To your knowledge, he had no previous awareness about them at all. He, of course, knew about the heinous things people wrote online, often telling you to disregard the unkind things they were saying and that usually ended up with him repeating sweet nothings to you in his native tongue to emphasize how untrue the words were. That didn’t stop the nightmares, nor the anxiety that caused them.

It was obvious when they were at their worst as well. Your body craved the warm comfort of your husband’s arms only to roll into a cold, empty space, your husband in a whole different country so his spot on the bed remained evidently, empty. It was as if your mind was taunting you, reminding you that you were physically alone when you needed him the most.

Eventually, you knew not telling Carlos about the sleepless nights would come back to haunt you. What you weren’t expecting was how distraught it would make him that he wasn’t aware.

Carlos had called you earlier in the evening to make sure you were aware when his flight would get in, and that he didn’t need you to pick him up as he had left his car at the airport. After telling him you’d wait up for him, he immediately discouraged that, attempting to convince you that he didn’t want you waiting up all night for him, and that he’d much rather crawl into bed with you when he got home and cuddle up.

Ignoring his words, you stayed up as long as you could. Passing the time with whatever you could find, a book, a drawing, your phone, eventually you felt the pull to your eyelids. You convinced yourself you would just close them for a moment, that you could rest them for just a few seconds and then you’d be able to go back to distracting yourself with whatever you could find to keep yourself awake.

The dream started as it always did. It was as if you were invisible, an outside force looking in on an intimate moment. It was always Carlos in the dream, and another woman, she never had a recognizable face, no one that you ever knew. He would be whispering sweet nothings into her ear, just as he always did to you, her face pressed into his shoulder as she giggled.

“Carlos, my love, when are you going to leave her? You’ve told me so many times it’ll be soon, please my love. I just want to be together, truly together.”

He would always sigh and press a kiss to the crown of her head before she continued.

“She’s not good enough for you, you know that. I’ve always been what you wanted, what you needed. She’s nothing, please my love, let us be together.”

Carlos would always pull her in a little tighter after that, looking in the direction where you stood in the dream, looking right through you.

“Don’t worry, mi corazón. She means nothing to me anymore, but she is so sensitive, I cannot just divorce her. I have to make her fall out of love with me first, I cannot handle her reaction if I do not. You know I don’t love her anymore, not like I love you, amor.”

That’s usually when the tears began streaking down your cheeks as you silently begged Carlos to take the words back, the words you tried to speak aloud coming out empty, further proving that you were simply invisible in the dream.

The nightmare would often continue from there, both Carlos and the unknown female drafting short insults, unkind words, and even worst statements about you as you were forced to watch upon them silently.

What you weren’t expecting was the gentle nudge to your shoulder, followed by a firmer shake, then your name being whispered softly.

“Mi amor, wake up. Mi amor, wake up, por favor,” you felt another gentle shake to your shoulders, your eyes beginning to open as they slowly adjusted to the soft light streaming into the bedroom.

Having never been woken up in the middle of the nightmare, it took you a moment to place your surroundings. Your book was still placed gently on the pillow next to your head, your phone face down on the spot Carlos usually laid, your mug, half-full of the chamomile tea you had started before drifting off was on the table next to your side of the bed. Carlos was directly in front of you, his brown eyes looking down at you with a soft look of concern present in them.

Carlos was directly in front of you.

A small bead of sweat trickled down the side of your forehead, your lash line wet with the unshed tears that your body had not had the chance to expel. You could feel the racing of your heart, the panic from the dream having started to set in before he had shaken you awake.

“Are you okay? You were whimpering and twisted up in the sheets, mi corazón. I could hear you the moment I stepped into the room.”

Shaking your head, your hands balled into fists as you moved them to gently rub at your now wet eyes. You had hoped there would be more time before Carlos was present for one of the reoccurring nightmares, had hoped you could work through what was causing them on your own before he noticed.

“Just a nightmare, my love. Nothing for you to worry about,” you continued to rub at your eyes as Carlos gently ran his hands down your exposed arms, his eyes still brimming with concern.

“Do you want to talk about it?” The Spaniard questioned, his body gently falling onto the bed beside you, careful to not crush the book that still laid on his pillow.

Shrugging your shoulders, you turned your head so that it was pressed into his chest, his arms instantly wrapping around your body to pull it closer into his own. Similar to the position he held the unknown woman that constantly haunted your dreams.

The soft sob escaped your throat before you could contain it, your hands that were still balled into fists pressing gently into your lips as you tried to keep the sounds at bay. Carlos instantly pulled back, concern and confusion even more prevalent in his warm brown eyes than they were before.

“Please tell me what’s going on, mi corazón.” His voice was filled with defeat, his free hand gently trailing his fingers down your face as he attempted to peer into your eyes.

You didn’t know how to tell him exactly what you were feeling, how you had been struggling almost every night he was gone, having to deal with these constant nightmares. How the anxiety was continuing to get worse and worse, which was causing the nightmares to become more vivid, more aggressive.

Carlos began gently running his hand up and down your arm again, trying to coax words out of you with his gentle demeanor. You knew you were safe with him; you knew he wouldn’t judge you for the anxiety, but you didn’t want him to think you didn’t trust him.

Eventually, the words began to spill from your lips. You explained the nightmare in detail, from start to finish, how it had been happening for months now, every time he was away it got worse and worse. The Spaniard’s face dropped, sadness embedding itself in his eyes as you continued to speak, his arms pulling you as close as they could the more and more you told him of what you had been suffering through.

By the time you were finished, Carlos’ face was marred with a large frown, his eyes looking down at you softly as he traced gentle circles on your exposed skin.

“Mi amor, I wish you had told me about this. It hurts me to know you’ve been suffering through this alone,” another soft sob fell from your lips, rubbing at your eyes as you looked up at him sadly.

“I’m sorry, Carlos. I just… I didn’t want you to think poorly of me, or think I didn’t trust you, or… I don’t know. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Moving his body down so he could spoon you from behind, Carlos peppered a few gentle kisses against the back of your neck and shoulder as you spoke. “I could never think poorly of you, mi corazón, nor would I have thought you didn’t trust me. I just wish you had told me so we could have faced this together.”

The sincerity was obvious in his words, he was trying to emphasize exactly what you had been telling yourself since the nightmares started. You had been telling yourself for months that he would never think badly of you if you expressed what you had been dealing with, that he would drop everything and anything to help you through your inner turmoil.

Carlos was constantly professing how much you meant to him, and how he never wanted you to go through things alone, and that he would far rather suffer with you, than either of you suffer alone. It was something that he, himself, had been working on. Expressing when he was going through something internally, because of a bad race, or because of something Carlos Sainz Sr. had said. Both of you had spent years internalizing everything, refusing to ask for help from those around you.

“Mi amor, you are more than enough for me. I am such a lucky man to be able to come home to you after every race, to be able to have you waiting in the garage for me when you travel the world with me. There is truly no one else that I could ever want, if anything, I am not enough for you. Strangers online don’t know anything about what you have done for me, what you have sacrificed for me, as my wife.”

Whirling around to glare at him, your eyes caught on his own sad ones, softening yours instantly. Carlos had told you more than once that he felt guilty you had to cater to his schedule more than he could ever cater to yours. You had stressed to him that you would follow him to the end of the world, just as you had told him in your wedding vows months before that conversation.

“Marriage comes with sacrifice, my love. If we had to start all over, I would still do everything again. I’m just scared that one day maybe I won’t be enough for you, that you’ll decide someone else is prettier, or more suited for your lifestyle.”

A loud scoff fell from his lips, “No one could be more beautiful than you, or more perfectly suited for me, mi amor. I vowed that I would love you til’ the day I die, for richer or poorer, for better or worse. Nothing will ever change that.”

Turning your body completely so you could fit your head into the juncture of Carlos neck, you wrapped your own arms around him as you breathed in the smell of his cologne. You felt him press a kiss to the crown of your head as he threw one of his legs over your own.

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to go through these things alone, cariño. You have been so anxious, and I have been a horrible husband for not noticing, I hope you will let me make it up to you.”

His hands were drawing different shapes down your back, as he began to murmur sweet nothings into the crown of your head. The words were illegible, a combination of Spanish and English, apologies and professions of love, promises that he would be there for you whenever you needed him, that even if you called him in the middle of the night before a race, he would still do everything he could to help you through whatever it was you were going through.

“My love, you are a wonderful husband, a wonderful partner, an even more amazing support system. The comments online just get to me, especially when you’re not here, it’s harder to believe that what they’re saying isn’t true.” Gently murmuring the words so that he could hear them, all Carlos did was sigh before continuing with his declarations of love, attempting to do anything he could to comfort you.

You knew it was unlikely the nightmares would discontinue just like that, but it eased a portion of your anxiety to know that Carlos was now aware of them, that he truly didn’t judge you for the things you had been going through. A feeling of contentment washed through you, knowing that even if they did continue, they weren’t something you had to face alone, but something you could face together.

ahhh im not too sure how i feel about this one, so please let me know what you think! thank you to the lovely person who requested it, i hope it's everything you wanted!! there will be a smau part 2 to this one, which will encompass a second request that was very similar but i didn't know how to incorporate it in. i hope you all enjoy!!! 🫶🏻

taglist

@leclercdream @myescapefromthislife @princessria127 @iloveyou3000morgan @love4lando @asfaraslifegets @decseptapril @somanyfandomsbruh @fangirl125reader @imagandom @motorsp0rt @jspitwall @sarahedwards16 @glitterf1 @christianpulisic10 @carlandonorri-s @smoothopz @eugene-emt-roe @epitios @ihrtdan @myloverjk-blog @glow-ish @avxntxine @goldenmclaren

if your name is struck through/bolded it wouldn’t let me tag you. please let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist (preferably send me an ask, it's hard to keep track other ways)

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 one shot #f1 imagine #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz fic #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #carlos sainz one shot #my writing #carlos sainz jr

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msperfect777 · 10 months

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time, thoughts & meditation

⭐️part six of the understanding consciousness & non dualism series

we know nothing is real and everything is imagination. all this is just an illusion bc its forms of consciousness (forms of you) that appear separate and have different labels but all they are is just consciousness.

1. time

time is an imaginary concept; it is unreal. time is not real. yes ego sees time and the clock as real just bc its "physical" but we already know nothing is real period. time is imaginary. when you imagine something, you experienced it instantly. theres no amount of time that will make you experience what you want. the moment you imagine / observe something, it exists instantly. theres no need for waiting. theres no such thing as a "time delay" bc time is imaginary. you are consciousness. you are not "powerful"... you are power itself. if you are going to limit yourself to an imaginary concept such as "time," then you have not realized your true nature (dont worry you will get there *wink).

there is no "past" or "future" bc there is only now. when you imagine something, you imagine it in the present, in the now. when "you" remember a memory of the past, you are doing that in the present, in the now. when "you" stress and imagine something that "you" expect to happen in the future, you imagine it in the now. every "second" is the now. there is only present, no past, no future. "past" and "future" are imaginary, unreal concepts.

2. thoughts

thoughts are from the ego and we already know from last post that ego is not real and that ego will make you think that you need to do something else after you already observed something in imagination. ego makes it harder to understand that everything is imagination. doesnt matter if ego understands or not bc either way, you are only consciousness and so is everything else.

even though thoughts and emotions arent real, your false self can still have doubts and feelings of discouragement which is normal. my advice is that when you become aware of thoughts and bad emotions, remember that you are consciousness; you are everything; you are power itself. stop and realize that you are just the observer (= consciousness / awareness) and those thoughts and feelings are never going to be real. as the observer, just observe the thoughts and feelings come and go. consciousness doesnt have opinions; consciousness doesnt categorize things as "right" or "wrong" or "up" or "down" or "green" or "purple". consciousness is neutral. ego is what categorizes things as "good" and "bad" bc ego is "logical" (which is also unreal). since you are neutral consciousness, observe the thoughts pass without judgement.

just be silent and observe. thats your true being. thats awareness. take a step back and remember ego is not the real you; those thoughts arent real and they are coming from (another unreal thing), the mind. thoughts come from the mind / ego as we already know is unreal and imaginary. so they are basically useless. they are just there for entertainment. nothing serious. part of understanding non dualism is realizing that bc none of this is real, we cannot take anything seriously bc this is all just a game that we create. step back and remember that consciousness is all you will ever be. calmly and silently observe the unreal thoughts and emotions. there is no need to fight or stop unreal things right? consciousness doesnt see those thoughts as "bad" or "annoying". they just are. step back and observe in silence.

3. meditation

when you think of meditation you may think of sitting on a mat in a calm yoga sitting position while listening to silence. in reality, meditation is just consciousness. consciousness is naturally meditation bc, as said before, consciousness is already, naturally calm and neutral w no opinions or judgements. when i tell you to mediate. you are already doing it, you already are it. effortlessly. but ego tells you otherwise and ego presents "messy thoughts" and while you werent aware of your true nature (consciousness), you take the thoughts seriously when they tell you "this is the right way to meditate" etc bc you think you are the body that is actually thinking these thoughts.

challenge (?):

we are naturally the observer. remember when i told you to sit back and observe the thoughts that ego sees as negative? why dont you try to be present and aware of whatever you are doing once in a while bc most of the time, "you" are just thinking about the past or stressing about the future. be present instead.

the video said "put 1000 focus" and "attention"... just know he means be completely aware on (for example) washing the dishes instead of being aware of thoughts and other nonsense while you are washing.

be your natural, meditation self and next time you look out the window, just silently observe the trees. observe the leaves and its stems and the lines and the green color. observe the texture of the bark without judgment. theres no reason to stop or argue with the mind and its thoughts and opinions. just observe them. remember: none of that is ever really happening; you are just observing consciousness (everything is consciousness / imagination). you are staring at yourself so theres no harm in that. stare at "your" hand and silently observe the lines and color. i like to stare at something in my room or close my eyes and silently observe the rain sounds outside in silence. its peaceful and thats pure awareness. if im walking on the street, i observe the people talking while observing the cars honking while observing the way the trees move from the wind while observing how "my" legs move while "i" walk on the street.

i observe my breathing and quiet the mind and thoughts and observe. if thoughts dont stop coming, i wouldnt fight it bc they are just unreal. they are harmless. i just observe the thoughts. with or without thoughts, i am always the observer. i observe what i want. silently observe. with the challenge as said: observe / be aware of the things happening in the present. dont get swept up by the unreal mind and unreal thoughts. calm, stress-less, limitless, silent, neutral, peaceful. thats awareness. thats you.

#nondualism #nonduality #non duality #enlightenment #non dualism #consciousness #advaita #observer #spirituality #law of assumption #manifesation #manifesting

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loveyourlovelysoul · 7 months

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You've been abandoned so many times and had to accept crumbs for so long that now you still feel like you have to stay in this cycle, giving up dreams and trying to accept something less, something easier, something that seems more reachable, something that, in a certain way, feels known and comfortable. Less scary. Something you're "supposed/doomed to get forever". Or at least that's what you started to believe, even unconsciously.

You have seen and maybe also helped others succeed so many times that you feel like that's the only thing you can do: help others move on while you stay in the same place. You feel discouraged, you feel like you're asking for too much, you feel tired and you want to give up cause all that you're dreaming of feels so impossible, it only feels as if you're deluding yourself once again and maybe, "at your age", it's also "stupid". And you should be more practical, more realistic (my question is: is this really being realistic and practical or just self sabotaging?)

I understand your feelings very well. But before giving up and deciding for the "easiest and known" road, deciding to stay in your old usual (at times sad and heart-wrenching) life, please give yourself a favour and try to keep on dreaming. To keep on trying, even a little. Okay take a pause, have a walk, listen to music, watch a movie, dance, distract yourself, but then... try with a little part of you to still give yourself (and your younger self in particular, the one who had to go through all those hard situations and deserves something more) the chance to believe that sometimes things can go differently also for you. No matter if it will take years. You have time. Your actual age doesn't matter. Go slow, take one little step each day, but try to believe. And try to make a change within. It's very hard but I am sure you can do it with kindness and patience. I'm cheering for you.

If it's hard to try and give it to your actual self, imagine give this chance to your younger self. Imagine yourself as someone else and try to support yourself as if you were dealing with a younger person, a child, a best friend... whoever you want.

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heavyhitterheaux · 5 months

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Call Her Daddy (NSFW)

First Lady of Private Garden Fic

AN: 🤭🤭🤭

Synopsis: Jack goes on the Call Her Daddy podcast and of course has to talk about his wife

Pairing: Husband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader

First Lady of Private Garden Masterlist

DO NOT ENGAGE IF UNDERAGE

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

“Jack, it's about damn time you showed up for an episode of my podcast.” Alex said after the both of them sat down and got comfortable where the podcast recording would take place.

“What can I say? I'm a busy man. And it's good to be here.”

“Definitely busy seeing as you just recently put a total of three babies in your wife, but we'll get to that later. We're focusing on you, first.”

“Look, I can't help it if my wife is fine as hell. Might as well go hard or go home.” He replied while shrugging and of course Alex laughed.

“Don't worry, you'll get to talk about how much you love your wife in due time because we know that’s a running theme with you. But first, I want to know more about Jack Harlow. Did you always want to be a rapper? And where did that drive come from?”

“Always wanted to be one and I remember selling my CD's back in middle school. My mom was a heavy influence on that and she would freestyle with me in the car when she would drive me to like soccer practice and different things like that.”

“That's so cute and adorable that your mom influenced you. Now when people think of rap, Kentucky isn't really the first place people think of.”

“Not at all and I'm from Louisville and a lot of people don't know that it is literally an entire city. When people hear Kentucky, the first thing that they think of is some back roads country ass shit when it's not.” He answered as he thought about when he first started and some people would tell him that he would never make it out Kentucky let alone Louisville.

“And did a lot of people support you? Or did they try to discourage you? How was that growing up there?”

“It was about half and half. A lot of people were confident that I was going to make something of myself, but others weren’t. But I’ve been serious about this shit from day one and it’s slowly but surely paying off. My girl wouldn’t let me quit for nothing even if sometimes I wanted to.”

“Now, what were you like in high school? Were you the popular jock, the nerd, part of the science club? Did the girls fall out over you?” Alex asked while getting comfortable in her chair and adjusting.

“I mean I always had friends and I wasn’t the one who would be stuffed into lockers or some shit. Like with certain things people knew not to mess with me. And it always seemed like girls always liked me, but when I set my eyes on one, that was it. It was a done deal. We weren’t even together yet and people knew that she was mine and they would respect it.”

“So, I want to ask you since you said that about people knowing that she was your girl and respecting it. Now we are talking about the First Lady, correct?”

“The fucking one and only. Had my eyes on her ever since I was fourteen.”

“A little birdie told me about you hiding a boy’s clothes after gym was over because he liked her and wouldn’t leave her alone? Not baby Jack getting jealous.” Alex said while laughing and Jack soon joined in along with her.

“Look, he asked for it and I didn’t have a problem with him after that. Like dude get the fuck away from my girl.”

“And what did she do when she found out?”

“She never found out until we moved to Atlanta after we graduated so she had absolutely no idea. But, she definitely got on my ass. But she’s not so innocent either, but you’ll have to ask her about that.”

“Yeah, she’s definitely the next person I need to have on here. Now what is the album that you think is your best work or the one that you are most proud of?”

“Hmm, Jackman hands down. No features, just me talking and getting my feelings out. I was able to be home in Louisville with my wife for about a year and a half and I took that time to reset and get my mind right because a lot of shit had been going on and happening around us and I felt that it was important for me to do that, but now we’re back to making the catchy shit that people can really vibe to and feel good music so I’m excited for this new era.”

“Lovin’ On Me! Now I am loving your new song and I notice that it says I don't like no whips and chains and you can’t tie me down. So no whips and chains in the Harlow household?”

“I… look I have a story about that. It’s not the fact that there’s absolutely none because at one point in time there was.”

“Damn, do I need popcorn for this because I feel like I need popcorn for this.” Alex added while busting out laughing.

“So, I tie her up, blindfold her, we got the nipple clamps, all that shit, and I handcuff myself to her to get her to stop moving and I lost the key in the process. So, she notices that I get quiet and she’s freaking out asking me what’s wrong and when I finally tell her she’s like call Urban. He’s our best friend who lived with us at the time and he has seen some wild shit and I know he’s so fucking tired of us. So with my free hand, I use my phone to call him and he comes and sees what the situation is, finds the key and leaves us there and goes to sleep because we had woken him up and he was pissed. So he just left us there until the morning.”

“I LITERALLY CANNOT! But, was it really a punishment though? Handcuffed to your wife so I can imagine a few more rounds came after that?” Alex asked while wiggling her eyebrows.

“More than a few.”

“Now talk to me about the other wild shit that he has seen.”

All Jack did was hang his head as he busted out laughing.

“I… I don’t even know where to fucking start. Urb is always getting pulled into the middle of shit that he absolutely had nothing to do with.”

“That’s what best friends are for. Now, how do you feel about choking?”

“Anything she wants, I will do it. Nothing is off limits for her. I admit that it’s not my favorite thing in the world, but if it’s going to make her orgasm faster, I’m all for it. She definitely comes first. Pun intended.”

“Oh, so you’re all about putting her needs first in the bedroom?”

“And in life, that’s my baby and her needs and wants are always going to be met. Been doing that since we were fifteen when we were officially together.”

“Now you said nothing is off limits when it comes to her, so she’s just like ‘babe, let me peg you’.”

“No, absolutely not, no one is sticking anything up my ass. I love my wife through and through, but no. That’s a little too much for me. Come on Alex, I’m not that adventurous, my lyrics literally say ‘I’m vanilla baby’.”

“Well, I might have put an idea in your head that you’ll want to try with her later.”

“Nope.”

“Favorite sex position?”

“Do you…. Do you not know what they call me?” Jack curiously asked her in disbelief.

“No, what do they call you?”

“Missionary Jack.”

“Please shut up because literally no one calls you that, you call yourself that.”

“I swear that’s what they call me!”

“And who gave you that nickname?”

“If it was someone other than my wife then that’s a problem. She’s called me that since forever.”

“What do you like about it?”

“It’s underrated on so many levels. I swear my triplets were conceived in missionary. Because here’s my thing, I’m face to face with her, at one point her ankles are going to be behind her head or on top of my shoulders and I’m going the fuck in.”

“Well damn, what’s her favorite position? I’m going to get her on here, but I want to hear it from you.”

“She likes to think that she’s in control, so she likes to ride me. But she knows who runs this shit. My kids aren’t the only ones who call me daddy.” Jack responded while smirking and all Alex did was playfully roll her eyes.

“Your wife is going to get you for that one and I’m going to let her have at it.”

“Yeah that’s how it all starts and it’ll end with me fucking her brains out like it always does.”

“You’re going to be in for it when this is over. Hmm, kinks?”

“I love praising her because I know it makes her reach her peak faster, but definitely a spit kink.”

“OH! TELL ME MORE! I am intrigued!”

“Alex, you are funny as shit.”

“I’m serious! Out with it.”

“Spitting in her mouth and watching her swallow it.”

“Are you sure you’re as vanilla as you say you are, because? Yeah I’m going to need wifey here to get her perspective. Do you think she’s ever faked an orgasm while you were in her? Would you be able to tell?”

“I know her body inside and out and she better not do that shit and have me find out about it. But, I don’t think she has.”

“Hand jobs, blow jobs?”

“Fuck yeah, I love me a good hand job or blow job.”

“Craziest place that you’ve gotten one or had sex period?”

“On a plane to Australia. We thought everyone was asleep, but of course everyone except Urb. This was what I meant when he is always getting caught in the middle of some shit that has nothing to do with him. It was difficult because I’m so tall, but we made it work.”

“What would an erotic vacation look like for you?”

“Definitely fucking her brains out non stop in some tropical ass location. We’re not leaving our room for the entire time that we’re there.”

“Ooohh, now if you could have sex in any location in the world, where would it be?”

“Hmm, I never really thought about it. Maybe some exotic ass shit like behind a waterfall or something. But, I was also thinking the white house lawn because I don’t mind an audience.”

“NOT THE WHITE HOUSE LAWN!”

“YOU ASKED!”

“Have you ever had or thought about trying tantric sex?”

“I’ve never really thought much about it, but I would have to do my research. If wifey wants it, I’m down.”

“She really does wear the pants in your relationship, huh?”

“Alex, like I said before, you’re funny and no she doesn’t.”

“I literally do not think that anyone will agree with you. If I were to do a poll right now, everyone will probably say that she does.”

“I let her think that she does.”

“Mmm hmm, sure. Now what is your dirtiest sexual fantasy?”

“I don’t even know since I’m pretty adventurous when it comes to it and not many things are off limits.”

You had just gotten to the hotel that Jack was staying at while he was filming for his episode of the Call Her Daddy podcast when you decided to surprise him. He had been going non stop since the release of his new single and getting ready to go on The Kentucky Tour.

Of course Urban was with him and sent you a text saying that he was almost done and you promptly took a quick shower and slipped on one of Jack’s favorite lingerie sets which happened to be black and purple. You threw on your black silk robe in case you got cold and simply laid out on the bed and played on your phone waiting for your husband.

You had fallen asleep waiting for him when you felt him reach down and place a kiss on your lips and your eyes fluttered open.

“What are you doing here?” He playfully asked as he was now kneeling on the bed in front of you and playing with the ties on your black silk robe.

“I wanted to surprise my husband since he’s been working so hard and I figured you would want a little time to have me to yourself.” You answered while motioning for him to lean down so that you could kiss him which he quickly did.

As Jack deepened the kiss, he took the opportunity to undo your robe and took in the sight of you in front of him.

“A sight that I can never get tired of seeing.”

He started to kiss down your neck when you lightly pushed him away from you and flipped the two of you over as you went to undo his pants and slide down his boxer briefs.

“Last night on the phone with you wasn’t enough and I decided that I wanted you in my mouth as soon as possible.”

The night before, Jack was complaining about missing you so just like you had done many times before, you gave him a show which ended up with him cumming multiple times as he watched you.

Jack had now tossed his shirt to the other side of the room and you had gotten his boxer briefs completely off before taking him in your mouth painfully slow making him grab the back of your head and buck his hips towards you.

“Baby, do not fucking tease me right now. All I basically did was talk about how good I fuck you in that podcast and we need to get to it before I fucking bust. This shit is starting to hurt and take that lingerie off.” Jack whined as you were making yourself comfortable.

Before taking him back in your mouth, you did as you were told.

“Patience, my love. You know that I’m always going to make it worthwhile.” You answered him as you went back to pleasuring him with your mouth and your eyes began to water as you felt him reach the back of your throat.

You were taking your slow sweet time and even though Jack was getting annoyed, he was in entirely too much pleasure to say anything at the moment knowing that when he finally did cum in your mouth that it would be worth it.

“Ahh fuck. Come on baby, go a little faster than that.” Jack pleaded with you, but then you took him out of your mouth and went to the edge of the bed and laid down upside down.

“Get over here and face fuck me then.” You said while giggling and Jack wasted no time getting in front of you and sliding himself back into your mouth while throwing his head back in pleasure.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, ohhhh shiiiiit.”

Jack had now taken a hold of both sides of your face and began moving in and out of your mouth as you reached down to play with your clit knowing that if he saw you playing with yourself that he would cum faster.

“Come on baby, open that pretty mouth of yours wider for me. You can take more of me, you’re doing such a good job.”

You did as you were told and inserted two fingers while still continuing to play with your clit with the opposite hand as you felt the spit from your mouth leaking down the sides of it.

“You playing with your pussy for me? Add another finger for daddy.”

Listening to Jack, you added another finger as he reached down to spit on your clit which made you increase the pace of your fingers.

You couldn’t help but to moan while Jack was still in your mouth and knew that you were going to reach your peak soon.

And as if right on cue, you heard Jack.

“Fuck, baby.” He tightly held onto you as you hit your peak and felt the cum shooting down your throat and out the sides of your mouth, but you continued sucking him off not showing him any mercy.

“Hold on!”

You shook your head no as you continued to move him in and out of your mouth, but finally let up when you felt another load shoot into your mouth and quickly swallowed it. Jack slightly moved away from you as you sat up and turned around to face him smirking.

“Wait until I get your ass for doing that.” Was all he said as you reached up to kiss him. You caught him off guard as you reached down and slowly began to jerk him off when he broke the kiss and looked down at you.

“Get your ass to the top of the bed and spread your legs so I have enough room.”

You moved until you reached the top as Jack hovered over you and simply looked down at you to admire you.

“What, babe?” You asked as you were now beginning to shy away from him, but all he did was lightly grab your face and kiss you.

“Nothing, it’s just my wife is so gorgeous and I’m about to have her screaming at the top of her lungs with how good I’m about to make her feel.” He answered as he began to rub small circles along your clit and reached down to kiss you while slipping his tongue in your mouth.

When you least expected it, he slowly entered you making you gasp against his lips which he quickly quieted you with another kiss as he began to move.

“Look at my pretty girl taking this dick.”

Jack then lifted your legs so that they were on the top of his shoulders and began pounding into you making you gasp as he caught you in another kiss.

“Shiiiit.” Was all you could mutter as you wrapped your arms around Jack’s neck as both of your noses were touching.

As Jack continued to keep the same pace, he kept his eyes on you and simply smirked.

“Open your mouth.”

You felt warm liquid slide down the back of your throat as he continued to move and place small kisses along your breasts.

On your right breast, he placed a small kiss and bit down and continued to suck on the same spot as you were letting out a series of curses and whimpers.

That was going to leave a mark, but you would deal with that later.

Jack then reached down to play with your clit and he quickly went to suck on your other breast knowing that he would have you come undone in front of him in less than a minute.

“Fuck, baby. Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

Jack then felt a rush of warm liquid hit the bottom part of his stomach and smirked as he reached up to kiss you.

As you were slowing down your breathing, Jack continued to rub small circles along your clit while kissing down your neck.

Once you felt that you recovered enough, you reached over to the bedside table and pulled out a bottle of lube that you had brought and handed it to Jack as you moved to get on all fours.

All he did was smirk at you before opening the bottle as you were making yourself comfortable in front of him.

You had only done anal a handful of times, but you found yourself wanting it more and more lately and of course, Jack wasn’t opposed.

“Baby, remember you have to relax so I can get in easier.” You heard him say as he was getting ready behind you.

“Yes, I know.” You softly answered as you felt the tip.

Jack noticed he was meeting resistance so he added more lube and had you arch your back a little bit more before trying again.

He was moving in slowly and didn’t hear anything from you which had him concerned and he simply stopped.

“Baby, you okay? You aren’t saying anything.”

“I’m fine, just keep going.”

After a few minutes, he was fully in and gave you a minute to adjust and made sure that you were okay.

“You ready for me to move?”

All you did was nod towards him as you felt him moving in and out of you.

“You’re doing so good, you’re doing so good for me baby. Arch your back a tiny bit more.”

Complying, you slowly but surely started to notice how good it felt as Jack reached down and you felt him insert what felt like a vibrator in you.

You had no idea when he had time to get it, but you weren’t in any way, shape, or form complaining.

“Babeee, oh fuck.”

“Got a new toy to use on you.”

Between the vibrator and Jack pleasuring you, you felt your legs begin to get weak and the perfect arch that you had once had was forgotten as you were trying to hold yourself up.

Jack noticed this and instead of turning the vibrator down and decreasing his pace, he did the opposite and turned it up while increasing his pace making you scream out.

“Baby…. Mmm… fuck I can’t…”

“Yes you can and you will, arch your back for me. Such a good girl.”

Jack reached down to play with your clit and your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks making you scream out as he slid out and released all over your back.

He then slid the vibrator out of you as you collapsed on your stomach and reached down to kiss your neck.

“You okay, down there? You were so good for me.”

You let out something of a groan letting him know that you were okay and he instantly laughed while sliding off the bed and pulling you by the ankles so that you were at the end of the bed and Jack was on his knees.

“Get on your knees for me because we are nowhere near done.”

This made you do a double take as you looked back at him in confusion.

“You didn’t think you were about to come all this way and I wasn’t going to taste my wife’s pussy, did you? Spread them damn legs.”

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#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x black reader #jack harlow smut #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow fluff #first lady of pg

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ambrosiagourmet · 11 days

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Rin Masterpost

Rin! Rinsha Fana! Beloved side character I think about far too much (or maybe not enough?)

I decided that it might be nice to put together an informational post about Rin, since she has some of my favorite background details of any character in Dungeon Meshi. This is partly as reference for myself, and partly for anyone else who might be interested in her but not know where to chase down the tidbits we we get of her, both in canon & extra materials. There’s also a little bit of theorizing and analysis sprinkled in for fun.

If anyone spots something I missed, please let me know and I will add it in!

Alright. Time for ultimate #rinposting

History and Timeline:

We don't have an official timeline for Rin (even in the expanded Adventurer's Bible, sadly), but we can put a lot of pieces together based on Kabru's timeline & their respective ages.

Rin is 2 years older than Kabru, and they met when he was 9. Assuming that he met her soon after she was taken to the elven capital, that means that the elves took her when she was 11.

Before that, she lived on the Northern Continent. Interestingly, when Mickbell asks about Shuro, Rin says she was born "here."

Since "here" doesn't mean the actual Island itself, it must mean simply "not the east." She is described in the Adventurer's Bible as having "no real knowledge of or attachment to the East," so maybe that's why she draws a "there" verses "here" line.

I'd also like to add a note here that the elves don't seem uh... they don't seem great about respecting the value of other cultures, especially those of short-life species. Milsiril seems to have discouraged Kabru from eating or remembering food from his hometown, at least, and that's even as an adoptive parent who cares (at least in some way) for her child. As I will touch on later, the "care" that Rin was under probably had even less respect for her history or ties to either Eastern or Northern culture.

That is all to say, considering that Rin spent many years with the elves, I'd take her having "[no] attachment to the East" as more of a comment on how she feels now, and less as a definite choice she made. She may genuinely have chosen that approach and opinion for herself, she may have been pushed towards it by the elves, and she may have had little choice at all in the matter - all are valid interpretations, though I personally lean towards the thought that it's unlikely the elves didn't have at least some hand in it.

Anyway, Rin does seem to know at least a bit about her heritage - she can presumably name and identify the specific island her parents are from, and she recognizes that "Shuro" isn't a name used there. She also knows that different places from the Eastern archipelago speak different languages, so she knows at least a little about the other islands as well.

Some additional extrapolations I'll make based on these facts: she never mentions, and probably isn't in contact with, any family from her island. This may be because her extended family died, because her parents didn't (or weren't able to) maintain contact, or because she lost contact when she was taken by the elves. Somewhat relatedly, she also prooobably doesn't speak the language, at least not fluently, though her being able to comment on the state of language in the archipelago makes me think that she at least learned a little as a kid.

Anyway, Rin's parents were refugees from the archipelago, though we don't know what specifically caused them to leave. There is this little tidbit of info we get (from the cover of chapter 48, of all places), though:

So yeah, that seems like it would be the backdrop of Rin's parents fleeing. As I said earlier, it's unclear if Rin might have any living family left back on her island. The listing she has for “family” in the Adventurer's Bible is just a dash, but so is Izutsumi's, for instance, and we know that she was taken from her family with no knowledge of who might still be out there. It's possible everyone else was killed, it's possible they were separated... it's possible that Rin's parents didn't even know.

As an additional note, and this is speculation on my part, but I think there is an argument to be made, with this tidbit from the cover as well as the Nakamoto clan's specialty in espionage and use of ninjas, that the politics of the archipelago are partially based on Sengoku era Japan. Not necessarily super relevant here, but I think it's interesting context for all... of the archipelago characters, honestly.

(Especially considering it seems like the Nakamoto clan is in a relatively comfortable position, and yet clearly are involved, or at least prepared to be involved in larger conflict. How stable is their position, really? How is Shuro's father viewed by the wider region and archipelago as a whole? What about his lord? NOT THE POINT THIS IS A POST ABOUT RIN. BUT IT'S VERY INTERESTING TO THINK ABOUT.)

Okay, back to Rin's parents.

Whatever caused them to leave, they made their way to the north, where they made their living with their magic for a time. There are no specifics about what kind of magic they used, but we know at least some examples of jobs that magic can get you, based on the flashback to Laios and Falin's childhood in chapter 26. Laios proposes that Fain could use her magic to be a priest, gravekeeper, or wandering exorcist. Though these are specific to Falin's affinity with spirits, they give some idea of the shape of the work that might be available. It's important, but it is also on the outskirts of society - not necessarily admired or appreciated by the average person.

And Rin’s parents were killed by vigilantes for that magic. It's not entirely news that superstitious villages in the area would sometimes kill magic users - we see a small drawing of people being burned at the stake in a panel towards the end of the manga:

Nonetheless, Rin is the only person in the main cast who has experienced this brutality firsthand. And she did experience it firsthand, having been found by the elves as the sole survivor within the burnt ruins of her home.

It is unknown exactly how she survived, or what happened to her parents before and during the fire. Rin lived, and they did not.

The elves came some time after the fire, intending to investigate reports of ancient magic. They (and we) don't know if Rin's parents actually did use ancient magic, or if the reports and murders were simply spurred by general fear and superstition. Rin was the only piece of "evidence" that remained, and so she was taken back to the west with the elves when they left.

We don't know much about her time on the Northern Central Continent (where the elves/Canaries are based), but it doesn't seem like she was adopted or taken in by anyone the way that Kabru was. According to the Adventurer's Bible, after being taken into custody, "under their care she was treated as a captive animal would be." I would guess that means very basic food and shelter, little to no education. Probably the most social contact she got was from Kabru, as well as maybe, occasionally, from elves treating her as a curiosity, such as in this bit in the Adventurer’s Bible:

Assuming she left with Kabru (which seems like it is the case, there's no info about them having separated during that time), she spent 9 years with the elves, and has been with Kabru on the Island in the 4 years since then.

She also stays in the Golden Country after the end of the story, apparently working as an alchemist.

Additional Details (& Speculation):

What does she remember of her family and home?

I'd like to take a moment here to explore a little of what Rin might remember of her parents and home.

For reference, we can look at Kabru. The canaries came to Utaya when Kabru was 6, and he arrived in the capital when he was 7. He remembers the events of the tragedy in his home, and has some memories of his mother and life in Utaya, including memories of local dishes.

Rin lost her parents and home at 11, so she presumably has much clearer memories of the events that lead to her being taken by the elves... or she might, assuming that they haven't been completely blocked by her trauma from the event.

Yeah, I am fairly damn sure that she's got some memory issues from trauma and PTSD. For one, this is the state she was found in:

As already mentioned, she was also treated like something of an animal by the elves. She probably didn't have a lot of contact with other people, which would further perpetuate that sense of isolation and dehumanization. What I'm getting at here is that Rin probably didn't have much to help pull her out of this place, or heal these wounds. She had Kabru, who was also a kid and even younger than her, and she had herself.

Obviously trauma leaves different scars on everyone, and everyone responds and copes in different ways. But I do think it is interesting that we never hear anything about Rin's parents or life before the elves, and there are no real details about it given in the Adventurer's Bible the way we have for Kabru. What's presented is more surface level facts: they were refugees, they made a living with magic, they were killed.

I'm inclined to believe that things are laid out this way because that's how Rin holds on to these things. She knows things about them, but possibly remembers them more as things she was told/knows to be true, rather than actual memories she can picture herself experiencing.

Rin's Magic

In an interesting counterpoint to her potentially spotty memory, I do actually think Rin may have learned magic from her parents (or started learning, and was self-taught from there). She never attended a magic academy, and actually has a bit of grudge against people who did - owing to the social protection afforded to "upper-class mages," which her parents did not have. She also almost certainly wouldn't have been taught by the elves, who not only treated her as an animal but also knew her parents may have been involved with ancient magic.

Falin began to show signs of magical talent at 8, and was sent to the Magic Academy at 10, and that was as someone who had absolutely no guidance about or exposure to magic in her home town. Raised by two mage parents, I think Rin absolutely could have been learning some things by the time she was 11.

In terms of continued learning, I'll add that Rin is able to identify Marcille's magic as being A) from an Academy student, and B) cast by an elf:

This makes me think that she continued to study magic on her own while held by the elves, and probably even more so after leaving with Kabru. They didn't form the party until two years after they left the elves, which would give Rin plenty of time to try and learn from other adventurers on the Island, or to study up on her own. She'd probably be able to pick up some dungeon-crawling basics (like the water walk spell), as well as become familiar with the skill level and expression of skill common in different people with different backgrounds (hence why she is able to comment on the "textbook" academy wards).

Much like Marcille, Rin also seems to rely on a 'one size fits all' Big Boom method of dealing with monsters: lightning. We see the best example of its power in the fight with Chimera Falin:

But we also see her cast it pretty recklessly in a few other places, including the end credits of the new anime ED, which I think provides a good example of the downsides to such an approach...

Yeah, it is very much a 'get out of the way or get zapped' spell.

Especially since Marcille's offensive magic is self-taught and works very similarly, this definitely reinforces the idea that Rin figured most of this stuff out herself.

Outfit and Character Design

Dear sweet Rin of the Red And Black... how I love her design.

First of all, her clothes are damaged. Despite the fact that Rin looks relatively well put together overall, her outfit is worn out. I have some theories on why this is that I'll get to in a bit, but for now I'll just touch on what this design communicates in general about it.

I think, just like with Kabru's horribly messy room, it creates a sense that there is something more complicated underneath the surface. Something that isn't being addressed or seen to, just as the dress hasn't been mended or replaced.

It also reflects her not caring a ton about her appearance. She's neat, but she's not concerned about being pretty, so she doesn't bother with fixing up her outfit after her dungeon crawls. This also fits with her perpetual scowl (which I will talk more about in a bit), and slightly disheveled hair.

Next: the gloves. At first I thought they might be a sort of uncomfortable-with-touch thing, but after skimming through the manga and some bonus content, I have another theory. Rin takes the gloves off to eat, as well as a few other instances, such as when working on a spell with Holm and Marcille in chapter 36

This one is especially interesting because she has them on in the next chapter, during the fight with Falin. Since she also isn't wearing gloves during some of the Daydream Hour art of her outside of the dungeon, that leads me to believe that they are specifically for combat.

What does she need them for, though? Most other casters we see don't wear gloves. Well... just look at the other half of the page where she attacks Falin with lightning:

She is enveloped by this spell. I said it before was pretty reckless magic, but maybe its not just a problem for her teammates, but for her as well.

So here's my theory: maybe the gloves are rubber, or some other electricity-resistant material? They might help protect her from her own magic. I don't know why a caster would need gloves for combat otherwise.

I also think this might be why her dress is tattered at the bottom, by the way. Especially since the Daydream Hour genderswap design doesn't have a similar problem with his outfit, since the tunic isn't as long.

I will admit this is a bit of stretch/guess, but I think it's a fun one, and I wanted to share. I do think I'm right about the gloves being for dungeons/fighting specifically, at least. That seems pretty consistent throughout all of her appearances.

I also mentioned her scowl, so I'll touch on that briefly as well. The (fairly confirmed) explanation for Rin's expression is that she intentionally wears a frown to prevent her other expressions from showing through. I think it's important to emphasize that it's not just smiling that she is trying to suppress here - it's any strong emotion:

Anyway, because I can, here is the art of Rin smiling.

Rin and Kabru

I have talked a bit about Rin and Kabru's history, but I think it deserves its own section.

I think it's very interesting that Rin is pretty much the ONLY character in all of Dungeon Meshi that has explicit canonical romantic interesting in someone. It's literally part of the main summary sentence in her character profile.

This could be sort of reductive as a way to describe a female character (and in some ways it still is), but I think in part the simplicity and directness of it actually is part of what makes it so interesting. Especially when on the very next page we see the comic about her backstory. "This mage is in love with Kabru" -> one page of a horribly traumatic event and a child frozen in shock with no one to comfort her. What does that do?

Well, in my opinion, it shows how much Rin focuses on Kabru as something to keep her in the present. In contrast with the immense loss she has experienced, her love for Kabru is current and alive. He has presumably been her anchor for years, and I think that her love is part of that anchor.

Adding to this, in contrast with how explicit her feelings are, she never seems to actively pursue Kabru. She complains about his potential interest in other women, but she doesn't really flirt. She doesn't let herself smile around him any more than anyone else, and she doesn't hide her bitterness or anger from him to present a more appealing persona.

As much as she craves Kabru's attention, and has stayed by his side for years, I don't know that she really wants to possess him. He seems to know about her feelings, more or less, and she seems to know that he knows. Maybe she believes he doesn't reciprocate and is respecting that, maybe she's afraid of what she could lose if she tried to change things, or maybe the change itself frightens her. In any case, though she's not exactly happy with the way things are between them, she doesn't seem to be trying to change that status quo.

A specific thing I'd also like to talk about with their relationship, beyond Rin's love for him, is her fear for him. As the Adventurer's Bible puts it, "she worries that his knack for dealing with whatever life throws at him might lead him to get too full of himself and end up in serious trouble."

Rin is an interesting mix of restrained and explosive, herself. Her magic is destructive, her temper seems to run hot (she gets annoyed easily, at least), and her feelings for Kabru are apparent. At the same time, she doesn't let her emotions show on her face, she is the one who bluntly states that the group has hit the limit of their abilities, and she doesn't act on those obvious feelings for Kabru. It's interesting, then, that what she fears for Kabru is that he won't restrain himself.

And a small personal idea about that as well: I wonder if she somewhat blames her parents for getting killed. Again, this is very speculative, but I think it's interesting that her fear for Kabru is that he will get too full of himself. Take up too much space. It's never really stated what Rin thinks of her parents, but it can be easy in grief to search for control, and control often means blame. If they hadn't been so confident, so flashy, would they still be alive...?

I don't know if she's ever thought like that, and it could well be that her fears for Kabru come from a totally different place. But it's an interesting connective thread between her past and present - the idea of "getting in trouble" for taking up too much space and being too confident in one's own abilities.

Miscellaneous Tidbits:

On that note, I'd like to wrap up the main part of this post, and move on to a few extra things that I couldn't find another place for.

Rin plays with her hair when she's stressed

Using stressed as a pretty big umbrella here, because I think it's hard to perfectly pin down all the emotions at play, but it is a habit of hers. Best displayed in chapter 32, but it shows up in other places, too.

Her design contrasts with Marcille

This is a small thing, but I just love how much they are visual opposites.

Rin wears red and black and has dark hair, Marcille wears blue and white and has light hair. Marcille cares a great deal for her hair and puts it up in elaborate hairstyles, and Rin's is mostly loose and a bit messy. Marcille was even educated at the Magic Academy, which Rin dislikes. They both have little capelets. Also they both look very cute in each other's clothes.

Rin knows Flamela (and they meet again in canon)

Nothing much is done with this in canon, but I think it’s super interesting that Flamela's squad are the ones that find Rin as a child and take her away to the west, and then they end up stuck in the dungeon together for a bit.

Two days??? I'm so very curious what things were like between these three.

Aaaand I think that's all I have to say about Rin! For the time being at least. There's a lot more analysis that could be done about her and Kabru especially, but for this post I wanted to keep things at least somewhat anchored to canon facts, with only a layer or two of speculation on top.

If it isn't already obvious, I think Rin is a super interesting character with a ton of potential depth to explore. She mostly interacts with Kabru in canon, but has ties to a bunch of other characters: she and Marcille fill similar roles in their parties but have differing personalities and histories, she and Falin (and Laios) have been tremendously shaped by xenophobia and fear of magic common in the Northern Continent, her parents fled from conflict in the same region Shuro and his retainers are from, and she has history with Flamela and some of the second canary squad.

Her temper, her fear, her love... her repression and passion - they all inform her character, even in small ways, even with as little time as she spends on the page.

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #rinsha fana #rin dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi spoilers #dunmeshi analysis #thank u to anyone who takes the time to read this ♥️♥️♥️ I love rin and lot

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princessbrunette · 17 days

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babydaddy!rafe I’ve been summoned 🤭

how would he be if it was the other way around ? getting back out there after you guys split, but he has none of it. you’re his. and he would absolutely NOT let another man take care of his girls !!

okay now that’s a little different. thats not allowed at all in his books 😭

˗ˏˋ🐇 ೀ🍡꒱ ˎˊ˗

he hears some guy from the club is taking you out on saturday, so what does rafe do? he shows up on your doorstep and tells you that he’s taking you out on saturday, no ifs or buts.

“its important for us to bond, okay — we have a kid together.” he argues, shifting on his feet impatiently.

“i have plans on saturday!” you laugh incredulously at his audacity. his eyes threaten to roll, fluttering irritably.

“yeah, i know — it’s not happening, telling you that right now.”

“oh really? suddenly you want to hang out with me now you know i’m in demand?” you glare, leaning against the door frame and he sighs, unable to stay still on his feet.

“you— you’re not listening, alright— you can’t just be letting anyone around our baby, or — or around you. i have a duty to protect what’s mine okay, and what— that makes me the bad guy? for protecting my family?” he points to himself clearly distressed.

“what do i need protecting from, rafe? i can handle myself!” you argue back, and he holds out a hand, shaking his head.

“no, no okay — you…” he sighs, closing in on you. “you know what he was goin’ round telling people? what… he was calling you, at the club?” he squints. you back down a little then, eyeing him silently as you wait for him to tell you. “the milf. like… like you didn’t have a name. you really want a guy like that around you? around our girl? huh?”

you shrink down, upset and discouraged. “seriously?” you ask quietly and he backs up, holding his hands up as if to say ‘it’s not my fault’.

“these are the suckers you’re dealing with, right and… i put a stop to it. look, we’ll have a good time together on saturday. me n’you.” he pities you a little, not wanting to upset you with what he’d shared, but it was necessary.

“fine.” you look down at your hands, embarrassed about the whole thing.

“yeah?” he steps closer, taking your hand so you look up at him but you avoid his gaze. “the guys got a black eye now anyway. you uh, wouldn’t wanna date that.”

you look up at him now, a small smile spreading on your face. his own lips curl up slightly. “did you do that rafe?”

“i was provoked. trust me, would have killed the guy but i didn’t wanna sacrifice my club membership, ‘kay?” he teases and you grin. he scratches his cheek, looking around before backing up off your doorstep. “saturday. alright? be ready, i’ll uh— i’ll text you.” he completes before walking off and not looking back. classic rafe.

˗ˏˋ🐇 ೀ🍡꒱ ˎˊ˗

#anon #rafe cameron prompt #babydaddy!rafe #he’s being so soft in all of these uhhhh dw guys mean rafe will return in my usual fics

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inthefallofasparrow · 5 months

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Other people have talked about this, but I think one of the fundamental advantages Tumblr has over other social media sites is how it interfaces with the past and the future. I can easily go into my archive (or someone else's) and reblog a post from over a decade ago, and people can respond to it as if it's new. Or I might find a post, but rather than immediately reblog it, I can easily tell Tumblr to queue it to post several months from now for whatever reason. And the difference is, while other sites do have similar functions to these, they seem to discourage you from trying, if not making it nearly impossible, meaning once a post is more than a week old, it's largely irrelevant and gets buried. But Tumblr seems to exist within all time periods at once, constantly re-echoing back on itself, which in turn has a unique effect on the local meme culture. It's like we've jerry-rigged our own self-perpetuating zeitgeist.

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nihilistem · 8 months

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adhd study tips.

by a stem student with adhd.

disclaimer!!! I’m by no means an expert in mental health or adhd but I do happen to have it. My intention with this post is to help others with adhd get more comfortable with studying so the process will be smoother for them!! At the end of the day, despite having the same disorder our brains will still work differently so do keep in mind that these may or may not help you, but are something you can try out if you’re stuck on not being able to study efficiently.

here’s some adhd study affirmations + tips on straying from discouragement if you’re experiencing burnout.

(And here’s part 2 of adhd study tips.)

I’ll start this off by listing more commonly known study tips that also work well with adhd.

change up your environment every now and then. we seek novelty even more than neurotypical people already do so switching it up will definitely help in our studies, especially if the place is well lit!

try some questions of the topic you’re trying to learn even when you know nothing about it. both neurotypical and neurodivergent brains are hardwired to remember things when we are proven wrong, and this is a great way of utilizing this neurological response!

take walks, exercise or stretch during your breaks. this tip is very effective at satiating our hyperactivity and also keeps us energized throughout our study session.

keep a notebook for your brain dump / ideas. we always either think of really stupid things or the most brilliant ideas in the middle of our study sessions and it almost always leads to distraction, but writing it down somewhere lets your brain know that the idea isn’t going anywhere and you can continue studying.

now, onto the tips that have personally helped with my adhd (and I haven’t seen many others talk about.)

alternate between various study plans, routines, schedules and techniques and always be open to finding more of them. majority of the time people always say ‘have a routine that works for you and stick with it’ but our adhd brains get bored very quickly, especially when it comes to repeated routines and schedules. I personally never stick to the same routine or plan more than three days in a row and sometimes I even make a plan on the spot and I’ve been more productive doing that than when I had only one or two study routines to switch between.

do not time yourself at the very beginning. Instead, focus on something in your studies you’re interested in and start there. what do I mean by this? well, since starting is always the hardest, when we begin our very first pomodoro we might find ourselves spending the first 25 minutes zoning out on a textbook just to get that ‘study time’ in even though you didn’t actually learn or recall anything. So to combat this, begin with something you’re genuinely curious about, or ask a question you can’t help but wonder the answer to. Once you find the answer, you might find you’re more in the zone and can continue from there. If not, take a short break and begin the pomodoros afterwards.

if you’re zoning out while reading up on a topic, try walking around while reading, looking at different sources on it or do some questions on that topic. again, novelty always gets us every time. sometimes the problem may be that the explanation in front of you isn’t making sense in your head and other sources may phrase things in a way that is better for your understanding. perhaps the problem is that you’re staying too still and you need to satisfy the hyperactive part of your adhd. or maybe your brain subconsciously believes that they already know what needs to be known about this topic, and there’s no better way to test that by trying out some questions on it.

switch between lyrical and non-lyrical music playlists, but make sure the lyrical music inspires you to excel. this definitely won’t apply to a lot of people but I found that when I constantly listened to piano, lo-fi or just non-lyrical music while studying in general, it actually promoted my likelihood of zoning out. but recently I found a playlist I deeply resonated with that was related to my studies called, ‘pov : a try-hard mid student who wants to ace everything’ and because I related very deeply with both the title and the lyrics of the songs, I was actively being encouraged to study as I was studying. but I also recognize when I really need to think in certain areas and that’s when I switch back to the non-lyrical music.

this is all I have as of right now but please do lmk if you guys want more of these!! I really wanna help out as much people as possible because my studies suffered greatly due to both my adhd and my late diagnosis of it and I’d love to help out others going through something similar.

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humanpurposes · 7 months

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De Facto

She can't afford to fantasize over Aemond Targaryen, he's her boss and the Prime Minister... but stopping is easier said than done // Main Masterlist

PM!Aemond x unnamed female character

Warnings: 18+, smut, mentions of SA, questionable power dynamics, politics (putting my degree to good use), unnecessary world building

Words: 7700

A/n: Thanks for the inspo @ewanmitchellcrumbs, sorry it's not Dishy Rishi tho :(

Throughout the whole train journey into Central King’s Landing, she’s sure she’s dreaming. Her body feels strangely light, her hands are restless and her heart is beating steadily in her chest.

She flows effortlessly with the stream of commuters, along the platform, through the station’s glass atrium, then left towards Conquest Street. She knows her way around this part of the city already, and though she’s never been inside, she’s walked past Hightower House countless times.

This time is different. Now she walks up to the iron gates, pressing her thumbnail into her index finger, because the armed guards are making her nervous.

She tells them her name and one of them mutters into a radio.

Her eyes run along the gold crest that marks the gate, a shield divided into seven, a sun for Dorne, a rose for The Reach, a stag for The Stormlands, a Trout for The Riverlands, a Falcon for The Vale, a Kraken for The Iron Islands, a wolf for The North, and at its heart is the symbol that unites them, the three headed dragon (although strictly speaking, Westeros abolished its monarchy centuries ago).

Suddenly one of the guards catches her attention. He opens the gate for her, and says she’ll be given a security pass and instructions to use the staff entrance following her official induction.

Hightower House stands proudly before her, an ornate facade of balustrades and columns, order and symmetry, an obvious juxtaposition of the medieval majesty of the Red Keep, just down the road.

It all feels very daunting, but the last five years have led her to this moment, the entirety of her adult life. She keeps telling herself that she deserves to be here, after all, she was the one who made it through the first round of applications, who made it to the shortlist and the final interviews, and she was the only one of hundreds of applicants who received the phone call, offering her a position as a personal advisor to the Prime Minister.

The contract only lasts two years, but it is the most effective stepping stone into a career in politics that she could ever ask for.

The entire morning is spent working out formalities. First she meets the deputy chief of staff, a handsome man named Criston Cole, who she’ll directly report to. He shows her through mountains of paperwork and gives her a brief overview of her role. Essentially, she is to assist the Prime Minister on whatever he deems necessary, policy aims, speeches, media coverage, political rhetoric, public image.

“You’re a glorified assistant,” Cole says as she reads and signs page after page of her employment contract, “but with a salary to reflect it, so don’t feel discouraged. There will be some admin work which can get tedious, but you’ve been selected for your expertise and your passion for the party.”

That’s the crucial part of the job. Everything she does will be to benefit Mr Targayren as head of the Green Party, still running off the high of their victory at the last general election, just under a year ago.

She signs her last signature triumphantly, despite the ache in her wrist, and hands the pen back to Cole with a smile. “All done?” she asks hopefully.

Cole grimaces sympathetically. “Not quite.”

There are four people to meet before she’s officially in. She takes a deep breath to soothe herself. It’s all just more formalities, which she can understand, given the weight of this job.

The first is the Prime Minister's private secretary, a glamorous woman with black hair and piercing green eyes, named Alys Rivers. She greets her warmly, having already spoken over the phone with her several times. She also knows her CV off by heart. It’s a little strange having someone know almost everything about her education and employment history when her face is unfamiliar.

The next is a young woman named Maris, the other of Mr Targaryen’s personal advisors. She has dark hair and a look of determination in her grey eyes. She explains that there are always two personal advisors, but hired on alternating years. She was hired at the start of Mr Targaryen’s premiership, and has a year left of her contract.

There are a thousand questions she wants to ask Maris, but before she can even scratch the surface, Cole’s checking his watch and dragging her off to another office.

Otto Hightower is the chief of staff. He’s thin and wiry, but incredibly intimidating. He has tired, sunken eyes that seem to glare right through her, and a passive but severe expression on his face, as though he’s scrutinising, having already decided she’s a waste of his time.

It’s not a great feeling, being looked at like that by a man she’s idolised for years. She knows his career timeline by heart. He earned his bachelors in Politics and Economics from Oldtown, before doing a masters in International Relations at King’s Landing, where he met and befriended Viserys Targaryen. He worked his way to becoming an MP and soon into Viserys’ cabinet when be became Prime Minister.

But things changed when Otto’s daughter married Viserys. No one really knows the whole truth, but Otto resigned from the Black Party, and took over from his own brother as leader of the opposition.

Now he works in the background, the mastermind behind his grandson’s remarkable successes.

Cole explains that Mr Hightower had the final say in the shortlist and determining which applicant would be given the final job offer.

“You had an impressive application,” he says, briefly looking up from a document. “I’m sure you’ll do well with us.”

“Thank you, Mr Hightower,” she says through the slight tremble in her jaw.

Other than that, the interaction is brief, and soon Cole is ushering her out of the room, back to Alys’ office, as richly decorated as the rest of the building. Maris is sitting at another desk, typing away furiously on a laptop.

“Tea? Coffee? Water?” Cole offers her, gesturing for her to take a seat on a green leather sofa.

“Water would be lovely,” she says.

“Maris,” he calls.

She glares up from her laptop. “That’s not my job.”

“No, but it’s courtesy,” he says.

Alys’ slight smirk doesn’t escape her attention.

Maris purses her lips, but she closes her laptop, pointedly slams her hands against the arms of her chair, and marches out of the room, her shiny black heels clicking against the dark wood floor.

“She’s nice really,” Cole says, “just a bit… direct at times.”

“Direct,” Alys groans to herself.

She feels her brow flicker into a frown but stops herself.

“She’s good at her job,” Criston says like he might say something else, but he doesn’t.

When Maris returns, she seems a little less on edge.

She takes the glass of water with a cautious hand, Maris’ eyes lingering on her maroon painted nails.

“I like your top,” Maris says.

She glances down. It’s nothing special, black and long-sleeved, to go with her long blue and green patterned skirt.

“Thank you,” she says.

Maris hums to herself before she goes back to her desk.

“Do you often work in here?” she asks.

Maris shrugs. “It depends.” She doesn’t care to explain further.

Alys is smirking again.

“Mr Targaryen was in a meeting with the cabinet this morning,” Cole says, then checks his watch. “He has a few phone calls to make, but he should be ready to see you at about 4pm. Maris?”

“Yes?”

“Will you show her in around then?”

“Yeah,” she says, flatly, “of course.”

Cole shakes her hand before he leaves. “Alys will show you out when you leave. I’ll see you on Monday morning.”

She continues to wait on the sofa, restless in the silence that follows once the door has shut. Alys and Maris are both typing, their nails clicking against their keyboards. She starts to bounce her leg and stops herself.

Her mind is racing. The day seems to have gone well so far, but what if she meets Mr Targaryen and it all falls apart? What if he decides he doesn’t like her and sends her packing?

She’s too lost in her own head to notice the flash of Alys’ emerald green dress as she stands in front of her. That is, until she’s leaning down and waving a bar of chocolate in front of her. “Get a bit of sugar in you,” she says, “and breathe slowly.”

She smiles as she takes the bar and places a single cube on her tongue. She lets it melt, savouring the sweetness and the slight bitterness of its taste.

You can do this, she thinks to herself with every inhale. And then she exhales. You are here for a reason.

The phone on Alys’ desk rings. She checks her own phone. It’s exactly 3:59.

“Yes, sir, Maris will show her in now.”

Aemond Targaryen is on the other end of the line. Her heart drops at the thought.

As the second son of Viserys, it seems like he was always destined for the family business. He differs from his father and grandfather in that he did Politics and Philosophy at Sunspear, before going on to do his masters in History at Oldtown, and then another masters in International Relations at King’s Landing. By all accounts, he is fiercely intelligent, mature beyond his years, with the right balance of intimidating and charismatic to command the support he needed to get in as MP for Rosby, then as party leader.

In fact, it had been his first campaign that inspired her to apply for a degree in politics in the first place. She loved how he spoke, how he managed to strike a balance between grace and passion, and how deeply he cared for his policies. He was poised and perfect, but driven by a genuine want for improvement.

He perfected his craft within a matter of years. With the mess Rhaenyra Targaryen had made of the country, it was all too easy for him to win a majority with a few winning speeches, a hand running through his silver hair, that lazy half-smirk and the intense look in his eyes that just made you want to fall at his feet. And people do. The press adore him, his party worships him, foreign dignitaries often remark on his charm but also his capabilities as a negotiator and a leader.

Maris leads her out of the office, along a quiet corridor. She stops outside a door with gold lettering: Office of A. Targaryen, Prime Minister

Seeing it in front of her, strangely, seems to subdue her nerves. Her chest flutters, but the anxiety is more manageable than before.

Maris taps her knuckles against the door three times.

From the other side of the door she hears a gentle but chilling voice. “Enter.”

She follows Maris inside.

He’s perched against his desk, his long, silver hair falling around his shoulders as he looks over a few pieces of paper. He wears a white shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, black slacks and brown leather shoes.

He looks up slowly, the light of the early Autumn evening beaming through the windows, over the sharp features of his face, his cheeks, his nose, his jaw, his neck.

His eyes find hers, unashamed and curious.

Suddenly she can feel her heart in her throat.

Maris introduces her. “I’m sure Alys already debriefed you, but she’s here for her induction. Cole said you wanted to meet her as a formality and–”

It feels awfully like she’s talking for the sake of it.

“That will be all, Maris,” Mr Targaryen says softly. She can’t help but watch the way his lips move when he speaks.

“Oh, are you sure, sir?” she asks. Her face is twisted into a slight frown but her eyes are wide. “I just thought, for her sake, it might be useful if I’m here to explain everything.”

“I’m sure, thank you.”

She stands with her hands clasped in front of her skirt as she listens to Maris’ footsteps move towards the door. It opens and closes, and now all she can hear are her own breaths, gently flowing through her nose.

She doesn’t know where to look. At the patterned carpet on the floor? No, it would be rude of her to hang her head. At the portraits that line the wall? At the bookshelves? At the desk? No, that all seems too intrusive. Out the window? No, that might seem like she’s not paying attention.

So her eyes settle on him.

He hasn’t moved from his position, but he’s placed the paper on the desk behind him, leaning with his palms at the edge. His eyes glance over her once, up and down.

Fuck, he’s so much better looking in person.

Then he stands to his full height, and picks up a clipboard from the desk. He flicks through a few of the pages and hums softly to himself.

“You had an impressive application,” he says.

She swallows through the slightly dry feeling in her throat. “Thank you, sir.”

“And an excellently written cover letter.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You did your masters in Comparative Politics at Sunspear. Oberyen Martell is still head of faculty there, isn’t he?”

“Yes, sir. He taught one of my modules, Security Studies.”

“He’s an interesting character,” he muses, smiling to himself. “He was my supervisor for my undergrad dissertation.”

She already knew that. Dr Martell loved to go on about his star student. She would too if she taught the future Prime Minister.

He flicks to another page. She watches as his eyes skim over the words in front of him. “And you came with glowing reviews from Tyland Lannister.”

She’s not sure how she’s supposed to respond to that– it makes her sound more like a product than a person– so she just smiles, as delicately as she can, making sure not to squint her eyes too much.

She had spent the last year as Mr Lannister’s Parliamentary Assistant, at his office in the Red Keep, starting just as he had been appointed as Foreign Secretary.

“How was he as a boss?” Mr Targayren asks.

Straightforward, she thinks. He took his job seriously and was decidedly not a fan of smalltalk. His office often worked in silence, and even when he was stressed he was efficient.

“No complaints,” she says.

“I’m sure you were all kept busy, cleaning up Corlys Velaryon’s mess after the Stepstones.”

A minor military excursion to defend a few key trading routes, or at least that’s how it had started. Within a matter of months the Stepstones had spiralled beyond control, costing Corlys Velaryon his seat and the Blacks their majority in Parliament.

“If I remember right, it was Daemon Targaryen pushing that particular policy,” she says.

The corner of his mouth curls upward. It could be a smile but she’s not entirely sure.

“Sir,” she adds, hoping to soften the blow of her unintentional insult; what idiot tries to correct the Prime Minister on their first day on the job? She does, clearly.

He doesn’t seem irritated or angry, more amused. A cryptic “hmm” sounds in his throat as he flicks back to the first document. “And before that you were a campaign manager for the party, yes?”

“Yes,” she says brightly, grateful for the change of subject. “I was working in the Stormlands in the lead up to the general election.” The region was formerly a Black stronghold, but turned Green thanks in part to her efforts.

“Excellent work,” he says.

The smooth, seductive tone of his voice seems to come so naturally to him. She bites her tongue at the image it prompts in her head, of his lips brushing over her ear, his hands resting on her waist, she can almost feel it–

No. That’s wrong. So wrong.

Fantasising about the Prime Minister of Westeros is not a habit she can afford to keep up, not when she’s supposed to be working with him in such close proximity.

But that’s easier said than done.

Cole enters his office, bright and early on Monday morning, before the rest of Hightower House is awake.

Aemond’s routine is the same every day. Up at 5am, run a few laps of the expansive gardens or spend an hour going through his meticulously planned gym routine. He showers, shaves, applies his skincare and haircare products, dabs some perfume on his wrists, dresses, and takes breakfast and a black coffee in his office. By 7:30am he’s ready to work.

He needs the routines and the outlets. They help keep him sane.

He’d seen how this position twisted his father into a tired, irritable and irrational man, how it got to Rhaenyra’s head until she became a liability to herself. He won’t be like them. He has a reputation to uphold, a legacy to claim.

Cole places a folder on his desk. “The background check you ordered, sir.”

He thanks him, quietly and sincerely, and waits until he’s left the room to open the folder.

His new personal advisor intrigues him. He’d made the request for the background check as soon as their meeting had ended on Friday.

She has no criminal record, which is unsurprising, that definitely would have come up sooner if she had one.

He browses through her education history, a star student at Storm’s End Grammar School, a bachelor’s in history from Rainwood, a masters from Suspear, where she was head of Debate Soc and Amnesty International, while working various internships and retail jobs in between.

The next page is full of articles from student publications, The Importance of Integrity in Politics for the Rainwood Student Journal, Sovereignty in the Stepstones for Red Sun Rising. He reads through them both. Her writing is immaculate, concise and convincing.

The final page is more personal, social media profiles. It’s nothing scandalous, but she clearly has a certain image she wants to project. Her Instagram is full of art and history museums, coffee shops and preppy outfits. She has a few pictures on her LinkedIn of her at the Green Party conference last year, pictured with a group of girls her age and a caption that talks about the importance of representation in politics, with links to various charities and initiatives. In the photo she’s wearing a white silk shirt, open just enough to show off a dainty gold necklace and a hint of the swell of her chest.

She seems perfect. Too perfect for his own good.

The first months go smoothly enough.

Maris is a practical person. She’s good with numbers, good for bouncing off ideas for economic policies and analysing data for him, even if she is a little overbearing at times.

But she fills the gaps perfectly. He secretly looks forward to their meetings and debriefings, when he asks her to write or edit speeches for him, or run through questions with him before a press conference. Politics is never easy, but she has a remarkable talent for keeping a level head. He likes that she’s always calm and composed. He likes her soft, reassuring smiles and the sharp look in her eyes.

They just click. She’s always switched on, always knows the right things to say and do, always knows what he needs.

Every moment they are alone feels monumental; the settled quiet of his office when she first walks in and takes a seat on the other side of his desk; when they make an exchange, debriefing papers for an empty coffee cup, and their fingers will brush over each other; when he stands over her shoulder to read the document she’s working on, close enough to smell her perfume and feel a heat simmering under his skin. It’s starting to become unbearable, and yet he craves that feeling.

And then, one morning, he gets a phone call from the Crownlands Messenger. They’re about to publish a story. His brother has been accused of inappropriate conduct by no less than three women.

Fucking Aegon.

The entire country is in an uproar. How can anyone trust their Parliamentary representatives when they do shit like this? Is Aegon an outlier or is this just scratching the surface? What will his punishment be? What else are the Greens hiding?

There are hundreds of emergency meetings with his grandfather, tense phone calls, bearating headlines, and onslaughts of outrage online. There’s no question about it, Aegon has to resign as an MP, but the damage is done. The polls are turning Black instead of Green. People don’t trust the ruling party, or its leader.

It’s late. Aemond paces his office while a headache pulses in his head. He’s long ditched the coffee for whisky, swirling it about in his glass. He sent Maris home hours ago. He doesn’t have the patience for anyone at the moment. Except for the woman leaning against his desk, flicking through news articles and the pages of notes she’s prepared for him.

Tomorrow is PMQs. No doubt there’s only one topic the Blacks will be asking about. He can already see Rhaenyra and Daemon’s smug faces, the delight they’ll take in watching him fall apart. There’s just no way he’s getting out of this easily.

He feels so restless. His hands are trembling and his lips won’t seem to stop moving, so he places himself against the wall, mindlessly tapping his fingers against his glass as he takes another generous sip.

From the desk he hears a heavy sigh that hums slightly in her throat. “Is there anything else you want to go over, sir?” she asks.

“No, I think we’ve exhausted the hypotheticals,” he says, running his free hand through his hair. He resists the urge to pull at the roots, to take his frustration out on something. “It’s just– fuck’s sake, I’ve been saying Aegon’s a liability for years. But no, Otto always wanted to keep pushing for him. Said it was good for the family’s image.”

She places her phone and the document behind her, and takes a few steps towards him.

He glances down at her, at the way the low light of the lamps and the fireplace glows against her skin, the contented sort of look in her eyes.

Her eyes flicker down at his now empty glass. “Refill, sir?” Her lips stay slightly parted once she stops speaking.

Then he realises he’s staring.

“No, thank you,” he mutters, tapping his finger against the glass. “I should probably stop now.”

She takes the glass from him with her middle finger and thumb, avoiding touching his hand before she takes it away. Maybe it’s the alcohol getting to his head but his heart sinks at the lack of contact.

What is he doing? It must be after 9pm now and he’s still keeping her here without a real reason.

She’s standing by the drinks cabinet, carefully placing the crystal bottle of whisky away and setting the empty glass out for housekeeping to clean up in the morning.

Instead of thinking about her, the way her hair looks, the way her skirt hugs her waist and the curve of her backside and thighs, he tries to think about how much he hates Aegon. This only makes him more agitated.

He closes his eyes and throws his head against the wall. His heart is racing and there’s a hollow feeling in his chest. He’s craving something, not another drink, not a smoke (he quit once he was first elected as an MP). He wants something else, something dangerous and damning.

The heels of her shoes tap softly against the floor, until she’s standing in front of him.

He opens his eyes.

She frowns slightly before lifting her hand and delicately placing it on his shoulder. “You need to relax, sir,” she says.

He lets out a low “hmm,” as he weighs out his options. This seems like a bad idea. A really, really bad idea.

“That’s not going to happen with you here,” he says.

Her calm, somewhat smug expression falls. She looks so innocent now, so sweet. “What does that mean?” she says.

He leans in closer to her, until the tip of his nose barely brushes against hers. “I think you know what it means, darling.”

She hesitates, before her mouth spreads into an eager smile that shows off her teeth.

Her hands find his, ensnaring him under a soft but commanding grip. She leads him away from the wall, to the sofa by the fireplace.

He settles on it, leaning against the arm as she comes to her knees before him, spreading his legs apart to make room for herself.

She palms her hand over the hardness that’s been straining painfully against his trousers for hours now. She feels along his clothed cock, pressing her cheek against it and gazing up at him with a look of teasing innocence.

Aemond knows he is done for, jaw slack, chest rising and falling as he breathes. He would have never presumed he would find himself in this kind of position, not after all the work’s he’s had to do cleaning up the mess of Aegon’s fuck ups, not after working this hard to get where he is, and least of all because he believes himself to be a decent man.

But he doesn’t stop her as her fingers undo the button and the zip on his trousers, and he doesn’t make any kind of protest as she takes his freed cock in her hand and teasingly strokes along it.

He keeps his hands firmly on the sofa, digging his fingertips and his nails into the leather, as if he hasn’t been dreaming of having her like this for weeks, as if he hasn’t fucked his own hand countless times pretending it was her.

He doesn’t have to pretend anymore. He looks down, his jaw slack, barely containing his strained breaths, and there she is, doe-eyed and eager as she places a delicate kiss to his flushed tip. Her lips barely brush against him before she pulls away, keeping a hold at the base.

His arousal stains her mouth and she fucking grins.

“Enjoying yourself?” he says through gritted teeth.

“Yes, sir,” she says, sweetly, earnestly.

He runs his hand against her hair, gently, as if trying to soothe her. It seems to take her by surprise which only serves to excite him further.

She leans into his touch, lips parting, her eyes half-lidded and dreamy.

Until he grips his fist and pulls. He tilts her head up. It shouldn’t hurt, but it’s enough to bring her attention back to him.

He decides he won’t tell her what to do, not directly, but she’s a smart girl, she knows what he wants.

With her eyes wide again, she opens her mouth and inches his cock past her lips. The tightness in his gut starts to burn as she works up and down his length, slowly– excruciatingly slowly. It’s not in anyway relaxing, he thinks, but it’s a nice kind of torture.

He loses himself to the warmth and the wetness of her mouth, her tongue running over the underside of his cock, her lips teasing over the tip before she moves back down, using her hands where her mouth can’t reach.

He chokes out a throaty “fuck,” knowing there’s a security guard outside the door, and probably a few of the staff still lingering about.

But she looks so beautiful like this, her brow furrowed in determination as she tries to take him deeper and deeper, desperate to please him, happy to make him suffer for it. And the little noises she makes, the gags and the moans. He imagines that she likes this, that she’s been wanting this for as long as he has, and if he pulled her onto his lap and slid his fingers under her skirt, he’d find her drenched.

She starts to up the pace until he brings his hand to the side of her face again, his hand large enough that he can rest his palm against her cheek and tease his fingers through her hair. Her eyes dart up to his, wide and teary.

“Good girl,” he whispers, “nice and slow, just like that.”

She whimpers around him, breathing desperately through her nose.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he coos, “you started this, didn’t you? Wanted to taste me? Wanted to feel my cock in your mouth?”

She hums in agreement.

“Just fucking take it then,” he says with a clenched jaw, gripping her hair to bob her head up and down, keeping that torturous pace.

The pleasure builds slowly, running hotly through his body, but he fights the urge to clamp both hands around her head and buck his hips up to fuck her throat.

He comes harder than he thinks he ever has before, keeping himself sheathed within her as he paints the inside of her mouth, and pulls her head away to see the last few drops spill against her lips.

She gazes up at him with dazed and glassy eyes. She’s panting, trying to catch her breath. Her forehead glistens with sweat, mascara runs down her face and his spend drips over her chin.

He wipes some of the mess away with his thumbs, cradling her face in his hands. “Swallow,” he orders.

Her mouth closes and her throat bobs. He can already feel the tension in his gut tightening again.

If only he could keep her like this forever.

She makes it to Hightower House at the usual time of 8am, despite leaving work so late last night. Despite the hours she spent consumed by thoughts of Aemond Targaryen as she rode the train and dragged herself into her bed. Despite the aching arousal that went unfulfilled. Despite the marks on her knees and the stiffness in her jaw.

When she walks into Alys’ office to sign in, she’s already there, perfectly poised and typing away on her laptop.

“Morning,” she says brightly.

Alys looks up from the screen. The white light shining from below makes her face look a little eerie. “Morning,” she says with a smug look on her face.

She ignores it, scrawling down the time and her signature beside her name.

“You were working rather late last night,” Alys says.

“Yeah, I was,” she mutters, placing the pen down and straightening her spine.

Alys is staring at her. Her eyes are unnervingly bright. “He never asks Maris to work late.”

Her heart drops.

It’s like she can feel the weight of him in her mouth, the taste of him on her tongue.

“I bet he’s just realised I’m more of a people pleaser,” she says.

Alys hums and smiles. “Yeah?”

She doesn’t have time for this. She hangs up her coat and her bag, and picks up two black coffees from the coffee machine in the kitchenette down the hall.

Aemond is in his office, leaning back in his chair with his mobile pressed to his ear. He doesn’t react much when he sees her, he just watches her as she sets one of the cups in front of him. He raises his eyebrows in thanks and brings it to his lips.

She imagines the person on the other end of the call is starting to bore him.

“Yeah… yeah… I know… well there’s not much to be done now but get it over with.”

She takes a few sips from her own cup, wiping the corners of her mouth. Aemond follows her fingers as she does.

“I’ll speak to you after. Yes, thank you, grandfather.” He hangs up the phone and tosses it onto a stack of papers on the desk. “Seven fucking Hells.”

“How did that go?” she asks.

Aemond rolls his eyes and huffs a tired laugh. “He wants to talk through candidates for the by-election in Duskendale. I said I’ll think about it if I survive PMQs.”

She sets her coffee cup down. “What are you most worried about? You’ve prepared for this. What’s worrying you?”

Aemond taps his fingers against the desk. She tries not to ignore the thrill it sends through her belly.

“I’ve never had to deal with something like this. I’ve never been this worried about the party’s image, but that’s usually because I do everything right.”

The whole Aegon situation is beyond his control, and yet he’ll be getting the scrutiny for it.

“People need to be able to trust you,” she says.

Aemond looks up at her expectantly.

“Is Aegon still a party member?” she asks.

Aemond’s expression darkens. “That was discussed. Otto wants him to remain an official member.”

“You’re the Prime Minister. Put your foot down.”

“I can’t,” he says, standing and fixing the rolled up sleeves and undone buttons on his shirt before he reaches for his tie.

“You can’t afford not to. If you go easy on Aegon, Rhaenyra’s going to play to some kind of ‘the Greens are anti woman card.’ Your voters need to know you’re taking this seriously.”

“And throw my own brother under the bus?” he says, sternly.

But she can tell he’s still nervous. His hands are shaking as he ties the tie around his neck.

She pauses, wondering where the line is here. Aegon Targaryen will be fine. He’ll be put under investigation and keep getting bad press for a while, but he can live off daddy’s money in the meantime, and in a few years the whole scandal will be forgotten.

She takes a few steps towards him and comes close enough to smell the dark, boozy smell of his perfume, and shoos his hands away.

“What would be better for the country,” she asks, tilting her head and keeping her eyes focused as she fastens his tie, “presenting yourself as a leader who is committed to integrity and respect, or leaving yourself open to further criticism?”

She pushes the knot up tightly against his collar for emphasis.

Aemond just smirks. “You’re very persuasive,” he says.

“That’s my job, sir.”

She gasps as his hand grabs her hip and pulls her against him. His breath runs hotly over her face as he tilts her chin up to look at him. His throat hums as he breathes.

She could fall apart then and there.

Until a knock on the door has her practically shoving him away.

Aemond chuckles and shrugs on his suit jacket. “Enter,” he calls.

She turns her back to the door to hide the flustered look on her face, pretending to look through a bookshelf that she’s never really looked at properly before.

“Car for you, sir,” Alys says from the doorway.

Aemond calls for her by her surname. Fuck– she was supposed to pack his briefcase before he left. She takes a breath and goes about collecting all the pages of notes and briefings he’ll need.

She brings it to him, and notices Maris standing in the hallway behind Alys. Maris usually goes with him to the Red Keep for PMQs, but today he requests that she accompany him. She supposes it makes sense, she’s been the one helping him prepare after all.

Maris’ face is a storm. Alys looks down at her feet and tries to stifle a giggle.

The next few hours are a blur. She trails after Aemond through the ornate corridors, keeping her eyes on his silver hair, flowing down the back of his black suit jacket. Somewhere along the way, Cole and the head of security, a man Aemond greets as “Mr Westerling”, joins them.

They leave through the front entrance, into the sharp September air and into a black car. The hum of the engine and the smell of leather makes her nauseous, but they’re only in the car for a matter of minutes before the door swings open and she’s been ushered towards the Red Keep.

Once a seat of Kings, now the red stone castle seems a little out of place with the rest of the city. This is where Parliament gathers.

As they walk through its halls, Aemond tells her to throw a few questions at him. She has them all memorised in her head, able to recite a few without really thinking about it. Aemond mutters the answers they’ve rehearsed under his breath, smiling politely and waving as they pass by civil servants, MPs, Green and Black party members alike. They even pass Cregan Stark, leader of the Northern Independence party. He whispers all of their names in her ear.

There’s a small room where Aemond waits in before he enters the Great Hall. She can hear the noise and the chatter on the other side of the double doors, engraved with the same crest that marks the gates to Hightower House.

He won’t stop moving, adjusting his tie and his cuffs, tutting and pursing his lips.

She makes sure Cole and Westerling are muttering to each other before she leans into Aemond, putting her hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be fine,” she whispers, “don’t see it as a chance for them to criticise you, see it as an opportunity for you to reassure everyone else of how brilliant you are.”

Aemond turns his head towards her. He’s not touching her but she feels the proximity.

“That’s an interesting way to look at it,” he says.

She smiles. “It’s all perspective.”

Before Aemond is called into the hall, Cole directs her to the gallery, above the benches where the MPs sit.

She and Aemond meet eyes before she leaves. She stops herself from reaching for him, not wanting to leave his side.

“Good luck,” she says.

As if he needs it. She watches everything unfold from the gallery, the MPs sat below her like she’s watching a play in a theatre.

Aemond starts off with an amazing opening speech which, at her recommendation, doesn’t shy away from the issue of the whole Aegon scandal. He affirms his commitment to ensuring that central government is a safe and inclusive working environment, which is when he announces Aegon’s resignation as an MP, as well as his removal from the Green Party.

The chamber in an uproar. A few members of the Green Party make a bit of a fuss, but mostly Aemond’s announcement is applauded, even by a good number of Black Party members.

Rhaenyra, Aemond’s sister and predecessor, is at a loss for words, as is her deputy, Daemon.

Aemond seems to get a boost of confidence from this and takes every question in his stride, using elements from the answers she had rehearsed with him and even throwing in a few one liners which has half the room cheering him.

And he’s fucking hot when he’s cocky.

While he speaks all she can think of is how he sounded while she was between his legs. “Good girl… just fucking take it…” she has to clench her fists and her jaw at the wave of arousal that rises within her.

Afterwards she walks with him to the car. A whole host of Green Party members crowd him as they walk through the hallways, praising him, commending him. He smiles graciously, looking over his shoulder every so often to look at her, to make sure she’s not fallen behind.

The silence of the car is unbearable with Cole and Westerling in the front, and Aemond beside her, drumming his fingers against his thigh and running his other hand through his hair.

She presses her thighs at the obvious arousal pooling at her centre.

Seven hells, she’s acting like she’s in heat.

She follows Aemond back through Hightower House, past Alys’ office, to his own office. When he closes the door behind them, he locks it.

She leans against the desk, keeping her hands on the wood behind her.

Aemond turns back to her with a ravenous look in his pale blue eyes. He reaches into his pocket, effortlessly pulling his hair into a low bun, as he usually does in informal company.

She can’t take her eye off him as he tosses his jacket over the sofa, and begins to roll up the sleeves of his shirt. Then he stalks towards her, his chin tilted down and his lips in a tight line, until he’s close enough to paw at her waist.

“I suppose I should thank you for your help,” he says, eyes fixed on his hands as they tease over the fabric of the red mini skirt she had picked out this morning, the way she squirms underneath him.

“Oh,” she breathes. One of his hands trails up, untucking her blouse from her skirt and brushing his fingertips against the bare skin underneath. “Just… doing my job, sir.”

He hums to himself as his hand works its way round to her backside, squeezing gently. “Do you like calling me ‘sir’?”

She can’t help but nod, dazed at the feeling of his hands tracing the shape of her body.

“Yeah, I think you do,” he says, leaning in to press a slow, firm kiss to her neck.

Her resolve is shattered. She throws her hands around his neck, pulling herself into him, desperate to feel him against her, to stay close to him.

She almost whines when he moves away, much to his amusement, feeling her mouth fall into a pout.

“Don’t tell me I’ve got a brat,” he says, taking her chin in his hand. “Are you going to be good for me, pet?”

“Yes, sir,” she utters.

“See? You don’t even need to be told,” he says with a smile. “You’re going to turn around and lean over the desk.”

She follows his instructions without missing a beat, bracing herself on her forearms, against the surface. She feels her skirt being pushed up over her hips, her tights and panties pulled down in one go, fingertips trailing over her thighs. Then she feels his breath against the wetness of her bare pussy.

She can’t help but let out a quiet moan, pressing her nails into the wood in anticipation.

“Haven’t even fucking touched you yet, are you that desperate for me?”

“Yes, sir,” she whimpers, trying to look over her shoulder.

Aemond’s hand finds its way against her head, pressing her down. And he doesn’t let go.

His fingers drag through her folds, teasing her entrance and her clit before he slides in a single digit. It feels so different from her own, longer and thicker, pressing into her at an unfamiliar angle. She feels utterly weightless, the obscene sound of him moving in and out of her only adding to her arousal.

Aemond’s voice is dark and husky, as it was last night. “Good girl,” he coos, “that feels good, doesn’t it?”

When she doesn’t reply, he withdraws and lands a stinging slap against her cheek, before he pushes into her again. “Answer me,” he says, clearly and firmly.

“Yes, sir,” she says, frantically trying to nod against his hold of her head. “Feels so fucking good.”

He increases his speed, pumping in and out of her until her climax washes over her. It happens gradually, building and building before a pleasant numbness washes through her, to every corner of her body.

While she comes down from her high, her attention is caught by the sound of a belt buckle and rustling fabric.

The tip of his cock presses into her without warning. He inches further and further in until he bottoms out, the material of his trousers pressing against her skin– the cunt hasn’t even bothered to take off his clothes.

He finally relents his hold of her head, grabbing at her waist as he ruts into her. It’s fast and primal, adrenaline pumping through her blood, Aemond’s fingers digging into her flesh, her breath coming out in moans, his belt buckle hitting the desk with every harsh thrust.

“Knew you were a little slut,” he grits out, grabbing at her cheeks and spreading them out to watch his cock moving in and out of her. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

She covers her mouth with her hand to hold back the wanton noises threatening to slip past her lips.

Suddenly a hand comes to her shoulder, pulling her up against his chest. One hand kneads at her breasts through her blouse and her bra, while the other slips between her legs, tracing quick circles over her clit.

“I wanna feel you come,” he rasps into her ear, “wanna feel my good girl clench around my cock.”

She doesn’t know what to do with herself. She clings to his arms and digs her teeth into her bottom lip. She can feel herself hurtling towards her climax, if only he would move his fingers a little faster.

“Please,” she whispers.

“What was that, pet?” Aemond asks, brushing his lips over her cheek. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want to come!” she whines. “Fuck– please… please, I just want to come, sir.”

She feels him smiling against her as his fingers rub faster over her clit. She can feel how deep he is inside her, how his cock bullies against that sensitive spot, over and over again, until her orgasm tears through her.

She tries to keep her mouth shut but she can’t help the pleading groan that hums in her throat. Aemond holds her as she falls apart, fucking her thoroughly through it all.

Until finally, he reaches his end, hissing through his teeth and pulling out to spill himself onto her pussy. She feels the warmth, how it drips through her folds, for now uncaring of the mess they’ve surely made.

Aemond keeps holding her against his chest. His forehead falls against the back of her head and his hot breath echoes over her neck. “I really appreciate the work you’ve done for me,” he says breathlessly. “I think you and I make quite a pair, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes, sir,” she mewls, letting her head fall against his arm.

Aemond hums a laugh to himself, it rumbles in his chest and against her back. “So pretty and polite,” he coos, “how did I ever manage without you until now, pet?”

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya @dreamsofoldvalyria @targaryenrealnessdarling

A/n: I might do a part 2 to this so let me know if you would liked to be tagged :)

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