#so it's fun to play around with that when you're cut-and-pasting your text anyway!

[chiropteracupola]

zine about having a chosen name that's a nickname for your deadname, and also about having your name die without you realizing it's dying.

[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 4

[prompt: roleplay] male reader x kang hyewon 8k words

“I need you,” Hyewon says in the uneasy dark of a hotel room, with two urgent fistfuls of your shirt, “need you to do to me all the things my husband never will.” “Yeah, I know,” you tell her, “you said that,” and her eyebrows move in all the wrong directions, “I’m just wondering if, you know, maybe we should give him a little more credit.”

-

Here’s the truth:

Hyewon doesn’t believe in leaving evidence behind and you don't find it particularly productive to doubt her; you’ve been talking in code for years. Parts and pieces of yourselves reduced down and bottled into set phrases that, to anyone else, would be totally incomprehensible.

"i've been thinking," she texts you, which you've come to understand means she's already made up her mind, "maybe we should do that thing we were talking about. tonight."

(You're not always so fast on the uptake.)

You send two back two texts, both of which ask "which thing?" because the hallway from the breakroom to your desk has poor reception and it never lets you send just one.

Then, right after you cross the threshold between signal-drowning-concrete and the glitzy glass-walled arboretum they've built to make you feel like you're not a total cog in their corporate machine, your phone pings the receipt of Hyewon's reply: a picture - her laptop, propped up on your coffee table with its screen angled for perusal, of a booking site that's filtered to show results for their 'king bed & view' room at a midrange hotel a forty-five-minute ride from your apartment.

"not really doing much narrowing down here hyewon."

She replies to you - her text bubble appearing over another couple still images, of herself in the vanity mirror as she curls her hair around her finger and holds this little black slip of a dress over her shoulder, black lacy lingerie in tow, the whole nine - with:

"i'm feeling kinda adventurous."

-

Five o’clock rolls around but you never really do figure it out. You spend the last three hours at work deciding which kink of hers (oh, does she have a few) this is all in service to.

There's nothing overtly sexual about her pics in the first place - not more than usual anyway, more showing off her curves and cut jaw than showcasing anything for her 'adventurous' intent. So that can't be the tell - you'd seen her in a corset once (you can't unsee it) and the angle of her hips to the mirror makes you think that if she was planning on pulling on a  pair of crotchless panties then she probably would've found her thigh high stockings, too.

You try and think of what the two of you had even talked about when discussing these little scenes - how many times you'd ended up 'in the mood' during or after such a meeting of the minds, how it'd snowballed from there, a whole list of filthy what-ifs that she'd probably put more thought into than you ever have - but you draw a total blank. It could be any of a number of things.

Until,

"i left you instructions on the kitchen island," reads a text on your phone which you definitely don’t check while you’re driving -

And then it hits you.

"ah."

"yeah, 'ah'," she replies.

-

A quarter past seven at the hotel bar is way too early for any real promiscuous activity, but then again, you're here playing at pretend and half the fun of games like this is in the setup.

Meet me at the bar, your instructions read, introduce yourself, and play it by ear.

There's some couples at the other end, some friends downing shots by the round, people musing over their aperitifs, and a woman sipping alone at the bar - Hyewon, appearing to you from the back first:

The pointed edges of her shoulders narrow out over this tiny cocktail dress that somehow covers less of her than if it weren't there at all, skin tight, accentuating even her softest curves. She has her hair fixed a particular way - teased enough to flip at the ends but still a single sweep down her shoulders, pulled together softly by a ribbon in the back, tied like a fantasy, allowing a wispy strand to fall to her face - glossy and dark and glowing to this rich, deep mahogany where it's cast in the lamplight.

The line of her throat, of her chest. Where her hips meet her waist in a rounding flare. The effort and beauty she's gone to, for you - that she puts in every day just because she knows it gets your attention, can do more than turn a head or two; Hyewon's appearance is almost indifferent of you, only coincidental, but she puts on a damn good act.

(You look a lot more worn in comparison: jacket thrown over dress shirt and khakis, tie loose at the neck. Standard office attire with just a step-outside-regulation. Disheveled.)

A drink, you suppose - approaching the bar to try and catch the bartender's attention to order a single malt.

But if Hyewon's been waiting long, she doesn't complain when you pull into the stool beside her and sit for a long moment.

"Do you mind if I join you?" you say over a pair of politely folded hands - and that's generally where her 'instructions' end.

The look she fixes you with is just this unashamed smoldering, her body language this contradictory kind of lazy - cool, like her night was going exactly the way she planned but she still had places to be.

"It depends," she replies, one slender finger curled around the stem of her martini glass - which historically, is a drink she hates. "Who's asking?"

"Just me," you offer, letting the gesture and your tone leave it up to her. And then slowly, perhaps awkwardly: "ostensibly a complete and utter stranger who knows a gorgeous woman when he sees one - and who could never pass up a chance to see how the rest of her is."

"Smooth."

"I guess it is, considering you didn't immediately run for the exit."

Hyewon nearly snorts.

"Hard not to." She tilts her head back at you, assessing. Her cheeks are rosy pink. "A handsome thing like you doesn't usually buy themself a girl's time with flattery -"

"Buy your time or your drinks?" you tease, and you can tell she wants to roll her eyes - but she keeps them carefully lowered. Eyelashes dipping down like blackened fans.

Hyewon shifts slightly, resting her chin onto the heel of her wrist like she's leaning against an imaginary windowpane and tipping her face a little sideways. It makes you smile. "One gets the other, if you catch my meaning."

Maybe it takes you a little too long to lift your gaze off her lips to find her eyes, or off the sweeping curve of the hemline sitting high across her long legs, but she watches you for just a breath. It's a more telling moment that she pretends she doesn't know you.

"You can look at me if you like," and then without further preamble, she introduces herself with a slight tilt of the head and an expectant expression: "call me Hyewon."

You figure that if you've gotta say one word to get the ball rolling you want to say her name, and as a little revenge for forcing you to think on this scene and think on what to say, what your character would say, how exactly she wanted you to go about 'meeting' her in a hotel bar, how her fucking scenario's been building up in her head for god-knows-how-long (even though, in the scheme of the two of you and your relationship, it’s nowhere close to being the most demanding sex you've had), you reply simply with:

"Pretty."

It's satisfying, how she hesitates - pausing a little longer on your face to gauge exactly what you meant. Studying. But the next beat of your heart - or hers - is effortless, easy.

"I know. That's what my husband calls me."

"Husband?" You keep yourself from raising an eyebrow. "And I don't suppose I'm also... married?"

"Different day, different you."

"Meaning I have a wife or a mistress of my own," and you flick your wrist at the barkeep for a top-up of what's in front of Hyewon. "You're telling me I'm the kind of man who'd only settle for two."

It doesn't sound quite right, though Hyewon picks up on it. Doesn't let on. "Aren't men like you always? Charming to a fault, but always voracious - insatiable, especially with women like me."

"Women like you."

"Married women. Unavailable," she simpers, and in a practiced little motion, draws her hand out to where you can see it properly, this sparkle on her fourth finger that catches the lowlight of the bar. The diamond looks real - not that you'd actually know - and your stomach flexes up mid-somersault thinking about the financial impropriety for what amounts to a gag. A practical joke. Hyewon the comedian.

Still, you go with it and take her hand in yours, admiring. "What a pity." The glint off its faceted surface - Hyewon's watchful as she allows it.

"Isn't it," she agrees.

The more unnerving thing - besides how composed Hyewon can make herself be - is how the narrative quickly becomes a whole hell of a lot clearer with the context of marriage in play. She's mentioned it before: the infidelity thing, the way it leads to the raunchiest, filthiest bits she'll dare to explore. In some ways, her desire for the untouchable makes a lot more sense -

And maybe that's what had been nagging at your mind since she brought up the idea of playing the part: you always end up kissing in that stupid 'caught up' sort of way. With an intensity that's hard to beat. Even though you wouldn't ever cheat on her. Not in a million years. You'd watch her leave before doing anything like that.

But it's thrilling, almost, and even more thrilling that this isn't entirely improvisation: how well the two of you might actually play this off, as two total strangers to this illusory little roleplay that you'd normally say was your very last interest.

"But you know there's something I've come to appreciate about married men," Hyewon continues, her voice in this conspiratorial sort of hushed.

You blink, drawing her out.

"They know how to tie a knot."

There's the flirty wink, an upward flick of the chin that draws your eye to the span of her chest. To her body in that skin-hugging dress and your fingers entangled in hers - the gentle bump and shift of the bodies behind her, moving between the tables - Hyewon a queen of circumstance, playing to the moment as it bends; as her lips part in a pleased smile, red and smooth, almost innocent, and you can't help but imagine tasting her on your tongue, the force that'd take for her to yield when you finally got your hands in her hair.

(What a character, honestly.)

"Tell me something," you say, "why would a married woman, this pretty little thing like you, be all alone in a place like this - without her charming husband."

Hyewon's smile curls at the edges like smoke. "I never said he was charming."

You raise an eyebrow. "Good-looking, then."

"Never said as much either."

“Why are you with someone you find neither attractive nor charming?”

Hyewon makes a face, slightly pitied. “If that Isn’t what I’m asking myself everyday.”

"Hm." You narrow your eyes into something more quizzical than suggestive. It works on her anyway. "That doesn't feel too much like it's in character, Hyewon."

She shrugs, but it's that coy kind of shrug. She thinks you'll let her off easy - you usually do. All considered, she's the type who thrives off the chase and, as of today, so do you.

"But he is cute." Her expression is just this side of sweet, as she takes a dainty sip of her drink. Like the taste doesn’t bother her, like she isn't pretending she doesn't hate it with every fiber of her being. Like this is easy. "And maybe -" she quirks an eyebrow at you, withholding a smirk. "-you're right. Maybe, I was looking for someone cuter to fill the bill. And luck would have it, here he is."

So - apparently - her character doesn’t mind a little light infidelity.

Hyewon takes in the vague sense that the message wasn’t as clear as she might have liked, her forehead scrunching as she tries to convey - in a way that would communicate even to an airhead - some realization to play your part.

"Maybe it's the wrong question,” you start over, taking it from somewhere near the top, “what are you doing here, with me?"

That's when Hyewon graces you with one of the soft, slow kind of smiles: the kind that manages both an air of 'you dimwit' and 'good question'. Her fingertips barely graze yours but it's noticeably electric. Just enough to feel your pulse fluttering.

(You don't care that none of it’s real - Hyewon looks to you through thick eyelashes like a goddess of temptation and sin - and it makes something wicked coil up warm at the pit of your gut. A curious thrill and a recklessness that you have to admit feels a little nice - being the man trying to talk this woman into bed. The challenge and the buildup, the want to work for it. It's new. It's fresh. Lo-and-behold, it's kinda hot.)

When you catch her stare, she fidgets. So slightly, so briefly, your chest is on fire and you're barely into the pages of her plans, of this night ahead.

"Wish fulfillment, let's say," and that is no less true. "See it’s my husband."

"Mhmm."

"He respects me too much to do the things I'm going to ask you to do."

"Like?" you continue to prod.

Hyewon lets out the tiniest shiver of a sigh, like a trickle of cold water down the length of her spine. "Take a good guess."

You finish the rest of Hyewon's martini, slow. Savoring the warmth and bitterness sliding down the back of your throat. The night's young, sure - and if you're supposed to be spending it all wrapped around Hyewon's finger. This means you can take your time.

"Show me your room?" you propose, gesturing to the empty glass.

"I thought you'd never ask."

At your offering, she stands up and throws on her coat - long, double-breasted, chic - but only really just off her shoulders to have the hem hit her legs mid-thigh. One of her many personal quirks. Hyewon knows how to move like there aren't two eyes staring at her wherever she goes: not the awkward side-to-side of a girl who wasn't made to wear heels - a loping gait - nor the assured click, click of the taller kind that totter like it's all they've got going for them.

Something totally different: a little careless and a little haughty and an assurance of the highest confidence.

She winds an arm round yours like they do in movies, this parody of a leading lady - Hyewon not a seductress as much as she is someone who'll look the part just to convince you otherwise. There is a pretty big discrepancy, you find, between her bravado and her smile, her figure and her artistry - you couldn't act if you wanted to; meanwhile, she does whatever she damn well pleases. And somehow that doesn't even begin to cover the things that turn her on.

The two of you make for the stairs, winding up floor after floor until it's perfectly quiet, perfectly out of sight - hidden away from prying eyes and ears.

The silence of an empty hotel stairwell is thick - Hyewon's hand comes off the railing, as she takes to the wall and turns to face you. It's a gentle tug at the tie loose around your neck, barely any give before you're already there, holding her by the hips.

"Might've gotten us lost there," you whisper, as her finger plays at your chest and finds its way round the collar of your shirt. Your top button is already undone by the time you notice she's not fond of it. "The elevators would've gotten us where we're headed faster."

"Don't worry." She hums, leaning in close - like a magnet, like gravity. "You're getting the scenic route."

"Anything to stall the inevitable," you tease, but it isn't a thread she seems interested in developing.

"Something like that."

Hyewon shifts her weight back onto her right foot, her skirt riding up just barely. The dip between her inner thighs and the smooth curve of her leg is open and bare to your sight, her dark stockings like an unspoken challenge: the panties, lacy, loose, no crotch.

And it gets... indecent, the way your lips connect, how you realize half-way into that kiss, she's still smiling. It isn't any one way that does it; maybe it's the clever use of her tongue, or that particular position you've coaxed her up against the stairwell wall that makes it seem like Hyewon can't be any more in danger - it's too much to handle and your mouth goes slack on the reflex of an apology; her hand has a hold on you by the jaw and it won't budge.

"My husband," she murmurs into you, the trace of the words ghosting into the breath between the both of you. "Never lets me."

"What," you rasp, barely recognizing your own voice, your hand heavy on her side - the very real fear that you might tip over a banister because Hyewon's got her heel half-way into the back of your calf and any less bracing would bring you down. Your thoughts are a fog, with her cheek in one hand and your knee already up between her thighs.

"His wife," she almost swallows down, kisses turning chaste because maybe it's just easier to gently peck out her intentions, how she looks to you with dark eyes, heavy-lidded and wanting, a thumb trailing down the plane of your cheek. It'd feel like pity if you weren't thinking exactly the same.

You try to finish it for her:

"She likes it rough."

"No." Her nose traces yours before she connects you again - gentle and slow, and a shudder rolls all down the expanse of her shoulders; you think you have it about right. Until she makes the slightest adjustment and her grip in your hair turns agonizing, perfect and burning on the edge of too tight - too much. You are straining against the wall of a hotel hallway and she's saying, "not rough."

She kisses you. Hard. Until you gasp for the stolen air in her lungs.

"Filthy," she manages against the heat and sting at the side of her cheek.

(Damn.)

Your voice has gone and lodged itself firmly somewhere between her lungs - but there's something that says she knows. That you've got it in you, the brimming potential that might just say everything you ever wanted but couldn't figure the right way to put it.

It's the tone of her voice or the spark in her eyes, but one moment into the next - you're caught in this pull - like gravity's increasing tenfold at her will; her heartbeat's so strong you swear you feel it against your ribs as she's demanding:

"Messy. Dirty. A little uninhibited," and the obvious thrill of that must flare up like lightning under her skin - the way it makes her moan, soft and breathless: "fuck me like my husband doesn't."

She’s not even waiting for the comfort of the room yet, which in hindsight is probably checking more of Hyewon's many boxes - it's the sex in public thing, the fear of discovery thing, the desire to have you ravish her out where anyone can come upon you sort of thing - the thought of which has your jaw go a little slack too. Her leg up is coiled up around your hip, your fingers tangled in her hair and sliding up the length of her thigh, until you're fucking kneading up her ass and drawing out that desperate whine in her.

"Fuck," she exhales into your shoulder - a hand on the metal bannister to brace against those little circles you start to rub inside her, pushing - slowly - one, two, three knuckles deep, testing - before drawing back, and plunging forward again. This ache, slow and purposeful, pressing just enough into her until there's a wet sort of friction that has your hand slick all down your wrist.

It never takes long, with your fingers on her clit, fingers inside her, a palm covering the moans out of her mouth -

She cums just like that.

Whining and broken and bent under you, and with an elbow hard against her ribcage to make the breaths come shallow.

"Stay quiet for me, sweetheart," you find yourself murmuring, as your teeth graze the shell of her ear - the short burst of hair and silky strands across the back of her neck; you're undoing the neat ribbon tied round the length of her hair and letting her waves settle on her shoulder in time for you to swallow down the sound of her sighs, the tension in her lips, and the frantic jolt when your fingers push through the wet, heat of her pussy again, merciless and quick. You have to be careful; she nearly bites your fucking tongue out.

"Can't." Her jaw's tight on it, the slight staccato to her breathing, murmuring and slightly dazed: "if we get caught, someone will see. Someone will notice."

Her next exhale is more shaky. "Anyone could see us like this," with just her toes curling and her stomach tensing on every second beat. Your grip leaves a bruise. "Please-"

"We're not supposed to be doing this at all, are we? If you've got a husband waiting somewhere?"

You hear yourself, and it sounds sorta degenerate, though in all the right ways, you figure, like something straight out of one of Hyewon's romance novels, the dirty, smutty ones that she swears up and down she simply reads for the plot, but the dazed, hazy kind of mood they get her worked up into suggest otherwise.

You trace the rough pad of your thumb over her pussy, this delicate, ghost of a touch. One you'd have to strain to even tell if it was there or not until she whines - eyes screwed shut like she doesn't mean to, just does. The sound of it bouncing around the stairwell.

And then, all this wet: her skirt's ridden all the way up to her stomach, damp and near-transparent with slick, and you can just imagine the puffy pink between her legs - between her stockings in the afterglow of an orgasm, spent and sensitive and sore and wanting for more. Your eyes linger a little too long -

"I shouldn't let you," she manages, half a moan on it - one of her heels comes up the stair you're standing on and the way Hyewon clings onto you for balance says enough, but still, she demands, with all the strength her throat allows: "make it fast. You're lucky I let you see me like this at all -"

And she cuts off abruptly, looking at you.

(She'll play coy for a while longer. Which, Hyewon being Hyewon, will look like as much an effort as her sprawl out on the bed for you is.)

"The room," you say to her, harshly, "where is it."

"Four more floors."

-

Room 1014 as it turns out is like every other room you've ever been in, each one perhaps a little more identical than the last - except this one has Hyewon sitting in your lap while you get comfortable on the bed, and there's also the way she looks in the mirror above the headboard, the desperation in her stare, right back into the reflection.

"What all," she says, "do you want to do to me?"

This time - no explicit instructions - just an implication. You have to figure it out.

See, the image of her is like every fantasy rolled into one, wearing this thin black bra that has her breasts just about spilling over. They're amazing - the color and shape of her skin. Soft. Cradled between the cups like a godsend, and maybe that's why it drives her a little crazy how good you look biting down the ridge of her breast and flicking your eyes back up to catch her expression.

It has you feeling, if nothing else, a little ‘adventurous,’ too.

Her belly tenses on a heavy sigh and it's one hell of a thing to have Hyewon staring you down, like you're an animal or an idiot, with her eyes flashing and a thinly veiled anger in the purse of her lips. There's a thousand things she'd like to do to you - for you to do to her - but it's about the predicament: the silk necktie she'd pulled off you as you both stumbled through the door has ended up around her wrists, pinning her arms behind her back in a way that suggests a loss of control. Just the mere suggestion of a little playacting, but she's almost keening.

You feel the touch of her right calf keep rising - curving down your waist, hooked behind the small of your back - her thighs smooth, and a hot line along your sides.

"I should fuck that pretty mouth of yours," you say against the shell of her ear, because you know better than anyone, the very concept gets her wet. Uncomfortably so.

And she leans her head against your temple like she'd love it. You could be imagining the little whimper as she clenches up round nothing - until a growl escapes the back of her throat and she's saying -

"Is that how you're going to cum? With me on my knees and nothing else? Cover my pretty face? How you’ll completely ruin me?. You’re more creative than that."

“I don’t know that I am.”

Her hips move to find some friction where there isn't any until you give her some, pulling your cock out through your pants and feeling it brush, once, twice against the seam of her. Hot, and hard. Ready. And if she only tried a little, the angle was made perfectly to slot your head in, but neither of you move. She doesn't yield.

"Let me fuck myself on you," she suggests, strained, almost pleading. "Then perhaps I will."

You could take her like she is. Any which way. But this is about getting a particular reaction - one that'll leave her spent and trembling - and nothing like that will happen without a little bit of preparation and prelude. You want to watch her writhe for hours. Until she forgets she's playing a character at all, until she's panting your name and whimpering for release, her cheeks burning.

But at least it gets her writhing on you, the heat and press of her body as she leans in close, your eyes locking:

"Get your cock inside me-" the urgency in her voice. "-fuck me right now, this second-"

"Say it again."

"Fill me with your perfect cock." The words land right on your lips, frayed at the edges as the tether to her control slips another notch. "Push my thighs apart until you break me," Hyewon tells you - and then with her legs twisted up in the comforter, the creaking mattress and the sweat on the sheets: she rolls her hips like they're pleading for it.

"Pushy."

"Gentle's got no appeal for us."

"Apparently not," you reply - but then it's suddenly a lot easier, to slide one hand in Hyewon's hair, and grip at the knotted silk wrapped tight 'round her wrists to hold her. There's no hiding the subtle arching of her spine, how the pressure off her arms pulls her chest in or makes it all the more comfortable, she doesn't let on, she'll probably keep pretending she doesn't like this, that she hasn't always wanted -

You run your tongue over her collarbone and thrust up inside her, once - a warning that you're not giving in to her quite yet.

The smile that runs her lips is brittle. Like her patience isn't what it used to be - she makes a quiet little noise, pained. A flash of discomfort. But there's a moan and a curse out of her:

"Like that. Harder."

"What does harder mean?" you ask, with a deliberate repetition in motion, thrusting upward, forcing her hips to shift a few degrees further back - her knees clenching around the sheets as you're met with no give - Hyewon's resistance through a dark smile, and her grip slackened in her hands, despite you keeping a fist wound tight in the hair on the back of her head, tightening the other around her restraint.

Her throat flinches: this shudder.

She takes a couple heaving, open-mouthed breaths, before she has it in her to glare at you again.

"Harder-" The way her mouth shapes around the word gets the better of you - cute little cupid's bow in pink, full and swollen and pursed up as if in pain. Or desire. Or both, the way her head is tipped back, hair half undone - an idea is already coiling at the back of your mind. "-until I can't stand."

"Or talk?"

And when your hand loosens on her wrists, her posture slumps like it's relief, that you're finally going to move along in a direction she's getting some satisfaction from -

Hyewon shakes her head in a moment that's almost blissed.

"You," her voice breaks on the tail end, "fucking wish you could shut me up that easily -"

In a motion almost gentle, you twist the length of hair down around her, from her scalp to her jaw, and wrap it around a hand. "Let's see if you'll change your mind, shall we."

There's a sharp draw of air in past her lips, just one sound, not a word. No proper rebuttal. She bites down, teeth clicking.

So you pull.

And this isn't some revelation, that Hyewon's cunt is heaven. Slick and tight, the fit around your cock and the gasp escaping the base of her throat - that isn't new. You've been here countless times, fucked her past her breaking point, beyond what should reasonably satisfy her or satisfy you, but that still doesn't take away from this incredible, heady rush that pulses through your entire body. It never stops getting better, not inch-after-fucking-inch the way you're bottoming out inside Hyewon's body and feel how hard the rest of her muscles tense up in the contact, how her pussy tightens and quivers, and grips around the entirety of your cock, the briefest taste of pleasure and release before it's pulled back just out of her reach - overstimulated, until Hyewon cries out.

You expect, predict the fight, the whimpers that spill out of her mouth with every slap of your skin and the breathless way she begs, pleads, like she'd rather her pride take it from her than have your fingers tug her hair up, right out of her scalp, with your arm locked around her lower waist. With your cock pumping faster, faster and a pressure, hot and inescapable, right there - the friction building - the slippery-wet heat sliding along your shaft with every stroke until you bottom out and her next exhale is a sob.

A goddamn fucking sob and the warm gush of liquid down her thighs - all on you. You fingers are pressed into her ass, pulling onto you, steading her bounce - and Hyewon finds her breathing uneven, as you smear wet across the curve of her backside, rubbing circles into her lower back as you catch up on the rhythm she'd lost.

"This tight little cunt, huh," you tease, and she nods so desperately it seems like she might snap. Like she might cry again and this time for real, a drop of her eye color past the blush, streaking down her cheek. You have the wherewithal to remember your character, your blocking, your lines: "this is what your husband won't do? Won't fuck you on every piece of furniture until you're a ruined fucked-out mess? Doesn't have the decency to work over his little slutty-wife until she's passed out, dripping with cum?"

Hyewon's fingers curl up into two balls of white knuckles and she chokes on her reply. "He won't."

"Tell him. He has a hot and dirty little piece of ass right under his own roof-"

"You think," and the string of words trails off when you manage to grind in, at this angle that has her reeling, trembling at every shift and jerk in momentum. Your knuckles drag against her soft and giving curves, almost gripping at her in the attempt to hold her down on you. "-my husband isn't enough."

"Well you wanted me to fuck the domestic housewife out of you," you murmur, taking two greedy handfuls of the ass bouncing in your lap, rubbing your palms along her hips, up and around the shape of her abdomen and her ribcage like you'd map it, memorize it. She wants this, you know this: your palms come around and over and brush your thumbs against her rising gooseflesh - she's putty in your hands. "No strings attached, remember, a one night kind of thing-"

"My husband loves me."

"Then it seems-"

"He makes me cum with his hands alone."

Your jaw works tight - Hyewon's cunt feels as good wrapped around you as she says your cock feels making a mess of it.

"Tells me he'd die happy hearing me moan his name."

"Oh, because no matter where he goes," you say, fingers wrapping under and around the back of her neck, forcing her to look you in the eye, "no matter what, your sweet cunt's the only one his mouth is ever watering for, isn't that right-"

A blink, lashes thick and feathering down and over the pools of her pupils as you have a hold of her tight. 

You're having a hard time with this, and you want to give it to her, the toe-curling-crescendo that would see her cumming at your will, or worse, losing the plot completely and your entire setup falling away from the charade of characters you'd both conjured. But she looks at you like she's never loved anyone like she loves you, the naked, barefaced devotion, the tenderness - a quick breath, a second - and the game is suddenly something far more personal, a truth. It isn't exactly fair: how your heart stutters. How much her heartbeat makes your pulse flutter, the electrifying rush you get when you fuck roughly up into her tight, wet cunt and make her bite down on nothing in the throes another orgasm.

You barely have a second to think of something coherent, let alone an out before she kisses you. If that isn’t totally disarming. So you move her into the next, flipping her onto her stomach, and she does nothing to fight back: Hyewon just lies there - the side of her face plastered to the comforter - exhausted, and gives a willing, malleable moan at the contact where your hand digs into the shape of her upper thighs, spreading them out as her elbows struggle behind her back.

"Here, baby," you say, finally unwinding the silk knot between her wrists, "I'll have you like the little desperate fucktoy you really are."

There's the bite to her bottom lip, the whole five seconds it takes for her hands to spread out and twist her fingers tight in the bedspread, before she whines - full-throated - and rocks back onto her toes to arch her back.

(See, the thing: Hyewon likes being fucked within an inch of her life. On all fours and pleading for more.)

With your free hand, you reach around her to run over her inner thighs.

Hyewon brings her grip to the bottom of the bed frame, for purchase, or leverage, you don't know, and in one simple motion, you slip your cock back deep inside her pussy.

You curse under your breath.

Hyewon fucking collapses.

It's a dangerous combination, having her begging and you nearly fully clothed while she's wearing barely more than this thin strip of black silk around her waist and a stocking on one leg, but you can't help it - she looks good this way.

"Fuck," she spits out, voice lost when your hips find hers in this wet, sloppy crash of skin that gets louder, faster and more punishing on each beat. "Like that, oh my God-"

Her whimpering only gets worse - when you start only pulling out halfway, until she's gasping like she can't breathe. You think there isn't a more wonderful, more obscene, more gorgeous thing than Hyewon spread out in front of you - the curve of her spine defining each and every one of the lines, dips, and rises of her body - and you would thank God or some higher deity right about now.

It’s fuck and please and every other little pliant utterance of “fuck my brains out, use me, make me beg, I'm so turned on right now I'll let you fuck me anyway you want - harder, faster, I can do whatever, just show me how, make me, push and fuck me hard until I'm raw and aching - god - like this, let me cum, please, let me - keep fucking going, oh my god, please, like this, fuck, just like this-"

You do thank God, actually - there's mirrors everywhere in this room, and you can catch the circular swing of her tits every time you force a curse and a sigh out of her: the bared teeth and the effort to push herself back on her arms, bracing for every thrust, fighting and fumbling to keep her balance and to make sure you have to pound her into the mattress until her cries reach a pitch.

Then, the thing you'd learned she'd never ask for but oh-so-dearly-wanted - you open your palm and bring it down hard on her backside. The impact of your flesh to hers, a crack, a moan and her whole body flexes - and it's then you do it again: matching the hit to the visible red outline of your handprint. The third time, she hisses, biting into the bed sheets so as not to cry out.

"Right? This is what you want? To be fucked and used?"

She doesn't reply with words, because she may in fact be biting her teeth into the cotton threadcount at the end of the bed, but she lifts her ass higher, angles her hips like she's waiting for more. Her brow is creased in a smile, even though a frustrated groan escapes her lips - so you give her that again, and again, until the back of her thighs are turning red and she's clawing one hand back along the length of your legs - pushing and pulling.

"You want me to fuck you senseless, sweetheart?"

And then, so needy and desperate she's just saying the first word that come to mind:

"More-"

"-when I've been railing into you so hard and your husband probably knows already, has to have seen, maybe he's listening at the door- oh," and your whole train of thought comes to a sudden halt upon seeing Hyewon's hand land on the perfect round of her ass, fingers pulling her soft, reddening skin taut, up and away from where your cock is disappearing between her cheeks - to allow more of your shaft into her hot, wet cunt - allow you to fuck her and fuck her up - allow the length of your shaft to slide deeper and hit all the spots that will send her reeling into this orgasm and the next.

Your gaze is stuck however, not to her curves rippling in excess, the damage of your thrusts pounding her body to ruin, or the look of flawless pleasure twisting up the pretty features of Hyewon's reflection, but instead it's the fucking flash and catch of the diamond that adorns her fourth finger. Even when you have her completely helpless, bent on your mercy, she's still wearing that promise, that intention to have and to hold, and you think, for at least a second, this whole roleplay thing isn't the worst idea: being a surrogate to fulfill someone's wildest fantasies. It might even be enough to make you hard all over again - the thrill and the debasement of your girl, lines quickly blurring between the Hyewon you'll take home and put back together and the Hyewon you're fucking pouding into a mattress - the here and now.

"Fuck, Hyewon," you find yourself swearing - steadying the hips rolling back in your palms, bending down until the flat of your chest meets her back, until your nose is in her hair, the long strands sticking to her lips and the back of her ears. Until you feel her shaking as you suckle against her skin, at her neck, hot kisses between the shoulder blades, finding a grip in her hands. Her grip in yours - as she's muffling these exquisite, needy sounds; she is perfect. Hyewon is perfect.

The first time you cum, it's this hot splatter of white: smeared across her ass and the crease of her lower back. It feels almost dirty to think that's just how you feel about it; your heart is stuttering in its erratic pace, but your eyes are drawn and enraptured, the sight of it all.

Then second, maybe your favorite: when she slips her hand to your aching shaft and simply takes you back inside her. This soft, wet, inviting heat that pulls you back to her.

"God- please," her head tips back, you feel the arch of her back through her ribs and stomach, the way her breath catches as you slide your cock through her creamed-out-cunt so much harder and smoother. "It feels so fucking good, baby," and there are tears now, welling in the corner of her eyes, "don't stop, God don't ever stop-"

She can barely finish her sentence before she's cut off, a moan ripped from the bottom of her lungs and a gasp straight from the pain-pleasure that has your balls slapping against her pussy every other stroke. And suddenly she's sitting, or rather, squirming into your arms, her face buried in your shoulders as she starts riding you, and not-quite crying and saying again - again, the whole filthy lot of things: about her wanting you to fill her, to plug her up with your cock. Every thrust she whines in your ears, clutching onto the fabric of your shirt and making a mess of herself in you.

It's this wild and reckless thing that makes its way around the room, on every surface and bit of furniture. You fuck her over the counter, let her ride you on the sofa, the chair, the two of you managing to find some sort of assistance in the wall even, the door frame, her legs up your sides and the slippery-sticky-heat of your mouths connecting and everything that isn't exactly meant to support that kind of strain buckling and nearly giving way - once when the wooden joints in the door-frame shift, once when she begs for release in that frantic voice that doesn't sound a thing like her. And the way she comes apart under you after, on top of you - is even sweeter; you imagine there's this endless possibility for love, for pleasure, a whole world in bundled in the notion that you could do it for her again, that it was always a question of Hyewon letting you have her that way, and the rest was mere foreplay - a stretch.

Only, on the bed again, Hyewon shivers beneath you, this full-body response, and you've got her stretched as she opens up - that the slightest of movements has her already whimpering out "fuck," and "please," and "right there," and "fuck you're going to make me come like this. You're so good, just fucking," and "more, harder, please, you feel so fucking good-"

The desperation for release is so palpable in her that it's curling into your stomach as your press Hyewon's knees into the points and edges of her shoulders and fold in her half - this perfect angle of leverage. Fucking her like she's yours and no one else's - the absolute delight of her cunt, wet, hot, and desperate to milk you empty - her body quaking at the force of each thrust, and the hungry grind of your hips into hers. Her fingers digging and knotting in the sheets around you until her knuckles pale, and your own grasp on her skin threatens to bruise.

"Inside me," she gasps out, because she can feel that edge just as well as you, "I want you to fill me, just cum inside, God, you always feel so amazing, fuck, like that, cum inside me, cum in me-"

"How could I say no, especially when you ask so sweetly," you tell her, kissing into her smile, "can you take another? Baby, look at me, look into my eyes, yeah? Look right back at me."

Her eyes blink and roll back a bit, almost losing focus and her eyelashes flutter - the creases in her brow, the elegant lines of her face locking up in the overwhelming tension, then, a peak.

And a demand, meekly asking you to fill her up. Until there's nothing left. "Cum," Hyewon moans, "for the love of fuck-"

You push her past her climax until she's practically weeping, sobbing through a litany of nonsense and slurred, unfinished sentences and almost howls, struggling beneath your weight and coaxing her fingers over the surge at the base of your spine. Before a hot liquid mess bursts out of you, into the deepest reach of Hyewon's throbbing cunt - cumming inside her, while you hold her down, not allowing her to move as your hips lock and you're both left groaning in utter agony.

(This was the thing you'd told her once - cumming inside her was almost always worth the effort it took to clean it all back out. You like the possessive aspect of it, maybe the slight humiliation, and more than anything, she'll just melt: once she's gone past the immediate discomfort. If anyone could really learn to get off on feeling a little filthy, it's the two of you. And she knows that too, Hyewon's eager little pout intimates, as she blinks down to watch where the two of you connect.)

You don't say much for the next while. If there's a line where this particular escapade blends back into your normal life, where the Hyewon curled up in the sheets is your own girl and not some half-conceived entity that didn't fit the reality of the rest of the evening, or how you see Hyewon everyday, even then, it’s not clear.

She's utterly boneless - this fragile, dazed thing that runs her palms all the way around her breasts and pulls up her stockings a little further up the line of her hips, as if you weren't going to peel them back and slip them all the way off when you had the wherewithal to handle it. But the strength in her isn't entirely lost either, she looks ready to burst: this air of pride and smugness - victory, right in her grin, which isn't totally surprising. Hyewon usually gets an odd satisfaction out of your participation in whatever hedonistic or obscene thing it is she wants to try.

This was her fantasy - maybe not a deeply rooted or unattainable one, but she'd worked out some kinks of hers and has walked away a far better woman for it, knowing what a sight she is to you. Like this.

"That was... fun," Hyewon eventually says, collecting articles of clothing strewn about the room.

Her shoes are one of two sets in the shoe-rack, but she'll have to look around and under the bed to find her dress. It would probably be some strange level of easy to play dumb and wait until she comes to the conclusion on her own that she should bend down and check down there, but she looks a little too worn out to really be interested in her clothes, more like, ready for the next part.

"We should do it again," her gaze lands, intent, and serious, back to you.

"Which part?" you have to ask, because you're probably still, a little slow on the uptake.

A small laugh, the sly smirk to herself; she knows she has you wrapped so perfectly around her finger, ready to bend to whatever game she can come up with: "whichever part you like."

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

A Perfect Score - Chapter 9 - Thawed Out | FigureSkating!AU

Summary: The finals loom, and you and Aemond have to navigate and come to terms with what the future might look like after | Word Count: 7.9k~ | Warnings under the cut~

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

Warnings: *deep breath* swearing, innuendo, teasing, trauma from a past relationship, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, dirty talk, pussy slapping, fingering, degradation, praise, orgasm denial, cum play, doggy style, choking, spit kink, aftercare

A/N: I don't want to let go of my babies and I can't believe this is the penultimate chapter😭

Sleeping on a bed with no bed sheets felt incredibly silly.

So instead Aemond had dragged his feet to the sofa, where the long-forgotten blanket was and cocooned you both into it on the bed.

Unlike the hotel, where you and Aemond were up all night, not able to keep your hands off each other. Here, in the dim light of your apartment, quiet, with rain tapping at the window, you both basked in the afterglow of the intimacy you gained from just having sex once.

The sex that consummated this relationship.

Which was still something you needed to ask him about.

Helaena had told you as much, he wasn't one for relationships after Alys.

But he told you he loved you.

Surely that was different.

You were both so exhausted, each of you fell asleep in the position Aemond tucked you in as. His arm slung over your waist to your middle, his palm holding one of your breasts in such an overtly non-sexual way, and just as a means of holding.

And like that you stayed, pressed together.

Fucking spooning. Something you never would have imagined you and Aemond doing a few months before.

You almost jumped out of your skin when in the early morning your phone buzzed under the bare pillow, sounding so much louder than usual.

"Seven fucking Hells, that scared the shit out of me"

You heard Aemond rumble low in his chest behind you. His voice was thick with grogginess, but it was clear he'd been awake some time, as his finger continued to trace the skin of your arm like he'd been doing it for hours. Now in an awake state, your skin ripples with goosebumps.

You huff a laugh at him, rub your eyes and pull your phone out, greeted with a text, or rather a whole wall of them, from El. Asking if you're okay given you tried to call her about four or five times in one go.

You smile at the messages, quickly typing a reply and sending it off, the limbs that are exposed to the air prickling with a chill.

"Your mattress…" Aemond starts, his forearm over his eyes when you turn to him, "...is so fucking uncomfortable"

In good comedic timing when you shuffle closer to him you're greeted with a spring in your side and a loud squeak.

"Missing your memory foam, king-size goodness?" You prod, pressing a kiss to his jaw before resting your head on his shoulder.

"Hm" he smiles, all in good fun, tugging you closer with an arm around your waist.

"Hope you don't mind me sleeping over"

You look up at him through your lashes, lips pulling up at the sides at the sight of him, still half naked, hair tousled in loose waves.

"And what was I going to do? Cast you back out onto the streets as soon as you said I love you?"

"Alright, alright. No need to be sarky about it" he smiles, thumbing some hair from your face and behind your ear.

"As if you're not sarky all the time" you smile back.

It feels so nice, beyond actual words, to be with him intimately like this. Just cuddling. Unabashedly together.

Which reminds you to bring it up before you leave for the day.

"How did you know where I live?" You ask.

Aemond flushes a bit, piquing your curiosity as you sit up, pulling the blanket to your chest to cover your nudity.

"Um, I didn't?" He replies, slightly embarrassed, "not specifically anyway"

You cock your head, "you didn't? So how-"

You grin widely, mischief glimmering in your eyes as you see how embarrassed he is.

"Did you knock on stranger's doors? Trying to find me?"

"Shut up" he groans, the flush on his cheeks extending to the tips of his ears as he turns away.

"Aw, Aemond!"

"Don't. It was so fucking embarrassing"

"Don't be embarrassed, it's cute!"

He looks at you again, still flushed but with an unamused expression.

"I'm not cute"

You press your lips together, trying not to smile or laugh.

It almost makes you forget about what happened. Especially when his face softens like that, his eyes half shut looking at you in a way that makes your insides flutter.

Aemond inhales sharply.

"Are you going to tell Rhaenys?" He asks.

He doesn't specify what. But both of you know.

You bite your lip in thought. In truth, you'd been wondering all night if you should.

"No" you say quietly with a slight shake of your head, "No, I…checked the terms of my contract and as much as I hate to say it, Otto is right…

"I have to complete my contract. If I want to get paid and signed again anyway"

Aemond sighs, playing with the ends of your hair.

"Doesn't mean you can't tell her"

"I know but, I just don't see the point" you say, shivering when his touch bristles against your skin, "Truthfully I was even torn about going to anyone with the proof…because I know it wouldn't just hurt Otto, it would-"

You pause, looking down into your lap.

It would hurt Aemond. His siblings. And Alicent as well.

"Hey" he whispers, taking your chin softly in his grasp and turning you to meet his gaze, "We'll be alright"

His concerned look. Softened voice.

You swallow thickly.

Even if you did go to the press. Aemond wouldn't hate you for it.

For some reason that stings a bit more than the other way around.

Still. You can't bring yourself to bring any kind of distress to him or his family, just because of what Otto did.

Even though it has bruised your confidence.

"Come here"

You force a tiny smile to your face, going to lay next to him as his arm lays outstretched. Aemond snakes his arms around your waist, pulling you on top of him, one hand stroking your hair in a motion of tenderness that makes your heart ache.

“Do you really want to quit skating?” you ask carefully.

Aemond sighs, thoughtfully, “I think so. I want to do something different with my life. Go to King's Landing Uni or something...and off my own back as well not just because I'm some bigwig's son”

You can imagine that.

A smile makes its way to your face, imagining Aemond in his classes, perhaps with some reading glasses on, frantically taking notes.

“Why, will you miss me?” he asks, and you can hear the smirk in his tone, without looking at him.

“Maybe” you reply, with the same playful inflection, “I like skating with you”

Aemonds hands drop to cup your waist, just above the curve of your hips. It makes you realise, that both of you are just completely bare, unabashedly, together.

He laughs, “I can still throw you around if you like”

You raise your head, pulling a face at the horrendous joke with eyebrows furrowed. You’re greeted pleasantly though, with the image of Aemond’s eyes crinkling up as he laughs.

Playfully swatting his chest, “You’re foul”

Pulling the sheets around your sides, you pull yourself up to straddle him, hands running over his taut stomach, feeling the familiar pull of lust inside that Aemond seems to feel as well.

With his hands still on your hips, his gaze glances over you, taking in every little bit of skin.

Until he looks down, looking all small again.

“What’s wrong?” you ask carefully, one hand on the side of his face.

He covers yours with his, taking it away from his face to his chest.

“Sorry, it’s just…” he starts, swallowing in between nervously, like he’s having a hard time expressing exactly what he wants to say. You just sit, listening intently. Waiting for him to be ready.

“She was always…you know…on top”

Your lips part in shock, wanting to say something but not knowing what on earth to even pull together in response.

The only thing you can do, is apologise and get off him.

For reminding him how it feels to be small…and manipulated.

“Aemond, I-fuck, I’m sorry-”

“No”

He keeps you there, his fingers curling over your flesh, tugging your core to his length, but his gaze is concentrated on your face, not on any other part of you.

“Stay like this, please…” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, and his Adam's apple bobbing as he tries to swallow over the lump that forms.

“But, Aemond-”

“She’d never let me” he mutters, blinking up at you, “I think it was one of her ways of controlling me…” he glances over your skin reverently, his thumbs tracing your torso, the sensation of his hands gliding over you making you shiver.

“It’s different with you” warmth blooms as he says that, “It could never feel that way with you”

It feels like you’re teetering over the edge when he says that. Tummy fluttering, with adrenaline burning through your veins.

Your eyes drop to your hand that’s flat over his heart, able to feel the thrum of it beating beneath your touch. Gently, as if any sudden movement will startle him, your fingers run down his torso, watching his muscles clench and flex beneath his pale skin.

He doesn’t stop you.

He hardens underneath you, hissing with pleasure when your hand wraps around his cock, pumping him slowly, his neck contracts as desperate whines slip from his mouth.

“Please - don’t tease me, Princess”

You look at him with a mischievous glimmer, his tone igniting something buried deep. Something barely exposed. Fingers tighten around his rapidly hardening length, achingly ready. Shuddered, frantic little breaths spill from his lips.

The amount of trust he is affording you right now, does not go unnoticed.

And as much as you want to tease him though, you cannot find it in yourself to, when he’s being so vulnerable with you.

Later maybe.

“Alright” you smile, now having stroked him to full hardness, his length swollen, aching for fulfillment.

“But only because you asked so nicely”

It was easy to get dressed and get everything together, except for Aemond. Once the morning had passed, your old bedroom hot and humid with sex, Aemond was reduced to wearing his dried and musty smelling clothes he’d been sodden in the previous day.

It was still drizzly outside as you pulled the door shut, having left a note inside for El when she inevitably got back from her Dad’s. But luckily, Aemond had parked his car down the street, so there was no need to walk.

You smile somewhat at the notion that Aemond only had an idea of where you lived. Hastily parked his car and knocked on every single door, just to find your apartment.

There's those flutters again.

Not unlike Aemond, his car is pristine. Spotless inside and out. Not that you expected any less.

If it was any other day, it'd be a normal drive.

But your nerves were higher than they'd ever been before. And Aemond had noticed the incessant bouncing of your leg.

The hand that was previously on the gear stick shifts to your knee, squeezing gently.

"I called Mum. Otto isn't there. And he won't come back, okay?"

You look over, seeing his gaze solely on the road, but his thumb circling the inner part of your leg.

"You sure?..."

He nods, "Course. It's Mum's house, not his"

Point taken.

Your thumbs overlap one another repeatedly, nerves still nibbling at your insides.

“Sorry” you mutter under your breath, “I just don’t want to see him”

Aemond laughs, “You think any of us do?” his hand briefly leaves your knee to change gears, slowing down as the security gate to his house opens with a click.

Seeing the house again, and you hate to say it, but it sets you on edge. It was only yesterday you left, but it seems like a lifetime. And after what happened, it’s like returning to something that won’t be the same, and you won’t know until you’re inside if that’s a good thing or not.

Ping.

Your phone vibrates in your lap.

Was the information suitable? - L.S

Aemond looks over briefly, having heard your phone go off, but his gaze doesn’t linger, letting you tell him if you want to in your own time.

You sigh, thumbs hovering over the screen.

“It’s Larys…” you mumble, swallowing over the lump that forms.

It’s Aemond turn to sigh as he pulls in and pulls up the handbrake.

“Probably wondering why it’s not hit the press yet” he muses, fingers tapping on the steering wheel.

“Why doesn’t he just leak it to the press?” you ask, eyebrows furrowed at Aemond, who returns your question with a shrug.

“I imagine it’s more newsworthy if it doesn’t come from him” he replies, rubbing his temple on the marred side with his fingers, like he has a headache, “It’d cause quite the stir. One of Otto’s employees exposing his wrongdoings…”

Aemond always knows everyone’s ulterior motive, it seems.

You can’t tell if that’s a skill, or a curse. Knowing what everyone is thinking. Being able to guess why a person finds you useful.

You swipe the message away, planning on simply ignoring him.

“You’re not going to reply?” he asks.

“No” you shake your head, “No, I won’t”

Even though Aemond had prepared you in the car, that Otto would most certainly not be inside, nor would ever return, it was still nerve-wracking to step through the doors again and back into the almost clinical feeling of the Targaryen home.

To your surprise though, when you stepped across the threshold, without any screams or cries of relief from Aemond’s family, you felt somewhat calm. You imagine Aemond had pre-warned them to not make such a big deal out of it, and for that, you were extremely grateful.

There were various murmurs from the kitchen, speaking in low voices and obviously unaware of your arrival.

Aemond’s hand on your arm made you jump, you were so distant, the trauma of the day’s past, and what it had all meant, flashed quickly past your eyes.

“We don’t have to practice today, okay?” he said quietly, “do you want a drink?”

You nodded, following him to the kitchen, “I’d also like to talk to your Mum…about everything, if that’s okay”

He seemed confused, but nodded anyway, wondering what it might be you’d want to speak to his Mum about without him.

But he didn’t prod for more information.

In the kitchen, all the children that were home were gathered at the breakfast table, speaking to Alicent in a hushed manner, both Helaena and Aegon’s brows were furrowed. Aegon’s in anger, and Helaena’s with worry. But both softened when their violet, sharp eyes clapped on you in the doorway.

“Gods - you’re back -” Helaena nearly tripped over herself sliding off her stool and making for you, throwing her arms around your neck like she thought you were really, truly gone. It briefly knocks the air out of you, hands hanging in the air. Aemond can’t help but press his lips together, trying not to laugh.

“We missed you” Helaena says with a relieved smile once she pulls away.

“Some of us” Aegon jokes, a smirk pulling at his lips, not revealing his teeth.

You scrunch your nose at him, pulling a face, knowing it’s all in good fun.

Alicent’s sad brown eyes don’t change, as she forces a reassuring smile to her face, “Are you alright?”

You feel Aemond’s hand on the small of your back. Reassuring but at the same time, lighting a fire in your belly.

How does his mere touch do that?

“I’m fine” you say quickly, “I was wondering if we could speak…”

Alicent nods, leaning against the kitchen island.

“...in private”

Quietly, the Targaryen siblings begin to vacate the kitchen. Aemond throws you a small smile, to let you know he is not far if you need him, before being practically dragged out by Helaena, who doesn’t do a very good job of whispering too quietly, ‘did you tell her, did you tell her?’. Only for Aemond to sigh and grumble, ‘Yes, leave me alone’.

Once alone, Alicent slides a mug of tea across the counter to you, which you accept, holding your hands around it, with a smile, looking down at the way the steam ribbons up from the scalding liquid.

“I believe you are owed an apology” Alicent starts.

Shaking your head, “It’s not you who needs to apologise. Not in the slightest”

“In any case” she smiles, like a mother would do, “I apologise”

Alicent inhales deeply, “It is not the first time my father has exercised his power over women” she muses, a mug of coffee in one of her slender fingers, “but I dare say I hope it is the last”

Your fingernails tap on the mug.

“It troubles me, what has been done done to Floris” you start, broaching the subject as carefully as you can, “since I am close to her family I…feel somewhat responsible”

Alicent listens, tucking a stray wavy lock behind her ear, pink lips pressed together.

“Please don’t misunderstand me, I don’t ask this of you, it’s directed at him, but-” you sigh, realising you’re rambling, “-I’d like for him to pay for her medical expenses associated with the accident”

You don’t dare look up at Alicent, knowing how soft, gentle and kind she is, but also fearing she may see you differently.

“In my view, it’s the least he can do, for what happened to her”

“I completely agree” Alicent says quickly, immediately trying to quell any fear of repercussions for asking what you have.

She smiles warmly when you lock eyes, “I do” she reassures once again, her well-manicured nails tapping against her mug, “I’ll call my father tonight. Give him the terms”

You nod, sparing Alicent a small smile, a grateful one.

“Thank you”

After a moment, Alicent sighs sitting down on the stool her daughter was previously propped upon.

“Aemond has expressed he wishes to leave the industry, after the championship” Alicent says, with a layer of sadness to her tone, her deep brown eyes staring as a blank part of the room. As if she is trying, with all her will, not to fall apart.

“I must say I cannot blame him, given all that has happened” she adds, “a small part of me feels terrible, that I might have forced him subconsciously or not into skating, just for him to…come to hate it”

You look down at your mug, knowing she’d see right through you if you lied and said he did enjoy it. Especially when he’d expressed as such in confidence, that he didn’t.

“He’s told me he wants to go to University” Alicent continues.

You breathe relief, that she already knows. That Aemond had already broached this subject.

“Yes, he told me as well”

Alicent smiles at you, warmly.

“I can see you both like each other very much”

Understatement of the year, you think, with a flushed smile.

“Whatever he wants to do, I’ll support” you say, with conviction in your words.

And all his mother has to say in reply is, “thank you”.

The next few days at the Targaryen household were nothing short of strange, in the best way possible.

Without Otto's looming and domineering presence, they seemed much more like the family you saw that evening after the semi-finals. A well-rounded unit.

Happy.

Aegon socialised in the living spaces a lot more, and sometimes watched you and Aemond practise. Though most of the time he'd crinkle his nose at how affectionate his younger brother was being, pretending to gag.

Helaena's relationship with Alicent, previously a little strained, had even improved.

You'd often see them in the kitchen, flicking through the magazine for skating outfits, as Helaena had expressed wanting to enter the Singles competition next year.

It made you happy to see them thrive.

Aegon distancing himself from skating, working on which of his side-hustles he could turn into a proper career.

Helaena pursuing Singles.

And Aemond, though he'd expressed a desire to leave the industry after the final, with the way he approached training now, you'd be mistaken for thinking he loved it.

Larys had tried to email a few more times, wondering why the truth hadn't yet hit the press.

So you blocked him.

And Otto as well. Not like he'd ever try and reach out.

Evenings in the Targaryen household without him were pleasant, almost unbearably so.

Eating at the table was enjoyable.

No tension.

Just laughter and smiles, and Aemond's large hand wrapped over your leg, just above your knee, in a way that never failed to make you squeeze them together.

You'd never wanted someone so incessantly this bad before.

Truthfully, that part sort of daunted you.

To be so overtly, unapologetically sexual with someone, was very new for you. Despite having had conquests, even boyfriends, in the past, nothing felt quite as good as laying down the borders, and unleashing this newly discovered part of you.

Not like Aemomd minded either.

In fact, he certainly didn't.

In the nights since your return, you'd barely stayed in the guest room Alicent originally gave you. Instead, Aemond had invited you into his.

It was largely how you'd imagined it.

Spotless, well-dusted, with various books stacked up, all neat with the spines bended perfectly and uncracked. Noticeably, ordered alphabetically. With various subjects. Philosophy. History. Something he'd expressed interest in when he'd searched King's Landing Uni's Prospectus.

His room felt warm, with earthy tones, and pops of black, much like his clothing.

He explained that although there was a dog bed in his room, Vhagar never came up here anymore.

"Dumb thing can't get up the marble stairs"

Which you'd laughed at.

And then called him 'cute' again when he confessed that sometimes he would carry her, as large and awkward as she was to hold, all the way up to his room when she'd start whining at the bottom of the stairs.

He didn't like being called 'cute'.

But tolerated it.

After training tired you both out, learning the difficult routine for the final, you and Aemond had climbed the staircase groggily and spent more than a few moments in his en-suite.

'Showering'.

It felt wholly intimate, freshly showered, laying in his bed and wearing one of his shirts, which seemed to envelop your body in its entirety to your mid thigh.

Felt nice.

Like a relationship.

It was a bit daunting, in the best way possible.

His bed smelled just like him. His sandalwood aftershave that you were able to catch a whiff of whenever you practised together.

With his pillow tucked under your chin, you smiled at your phone as the messages from El were piling in.

Your eyes flit over to where Aemond is. Standing in front of the mirror in the en-suite. He's pressing a cold cloth to the marred side of his face, where he still sometimes feels a small bit of pain, despite having had his glycerol injections not that long ago.

Before the tour.

He never spoke about his pain. Which was very 'Aemond' of him, you thought.

Fucking bitch. Using that against you.

Your face heats instantly.

"What you smiling about?" Aemond asks, padding over in just his sweatpants, tied at the front, and absolutely nothing else. He slides into his bed next to you with a satisfied groan, hand around your middle to pull you onto your side.

You smile, shooting off a quick message along the lines of 'shut your whore mouth' to El, before turning your head to Aemond, tucking your hips back against his.

"Just talking to El"

His hand squeezes your hip, "Stop. That" he warns, with a deadpan expression.

"What?" You ask innocently, through your eyelashes, trying to bite back a smile.

"Don't you 'what' me. You know exactly what you're doing"

"I have no idea what you're talking about" you smirk, resting your head on the pillow facing the TV.

"Hm" he clicks his tongue in false-annoyance, grabbing the remote. Netflix floods the screen, auto-playing the first thing that comes on, which happens to be Mean Girls. He simply wrinkles his brows and states he's never seen it, trying to ignore the way he's gained a semi-erection merely from the movement of your ass against him.

As the movie progresses, your interest is quickly redirected to your phone, followed by a yawn.

"Am I that boring?" He smirks, his face propped on his palm.

You show him the screen, "been watching some of your Mum's old performances"

He raises an eyebrow, "oh yeah?"

You nod, scrubbing to a particular video, "This one is my favourite. The one where she competed at Highgarden, and she wore green. Pissed the Tyrells right off" you snicker.

Aemond fights the urge to roll his eye, "The Tyrells are a delicate bunch" he muses.

You watch the video of Alicent while Aemond's head moves back to the movie. She was much younger, gracefully owning the ice in her dark green outfit. Looking so happy, so proud of herself.

And it was her last performance.

She was already pregnant by then.

You're struck then with the notion of how similar Alicent and Aegon actually look, with the exception of the colouring, their features are dead on.

Aemond on the other hand, has much sharper features. And a part of you wonders where he gets that from.

Perhaps this elusive sister?

"That is so dumb" Aemond muses.

"What is?"

He scoffs, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Netflix recommended this one first cos it's got a scene in it where the main character says 'it's October 3rd'"

You furrow your brows, "And that's dumb why?.."

He gives you an unamused look, clicking on the lock screen of his phone and showing you today's date.

His smirk quirks when he sees how you dissolve into a fit of laughter though. Something in his gaze as he looks down at you, makes you feel as if you're entirely on show, in the nicest possible way.

"What?" You smile with a flushed expression, noticing how he's not looked away.

"Nothing" he shakes his head, "just nice seeing you in my bed"

You tease him, wrinkling your nose, "Don't be so soft, doesn't suit you"

"Oh yeah? What would you prefer then?" He asks, face lighting up into his slightly arrogant, cocky little smirk, his arm tightening over your waist, "for me to be rough?"

You press your lips together and also, unconsciously, your thighs, feeling heat rise from your belly.

But you jut out your chin, trying to hide how warm you suddenly feel.

"I don't think you've got it in you"

His expression manages to change. Instantly from cocky to stoic, serious. His lips flat into a line, eyelids hooded and utterly humourless.

How he usually looked when you first knew him.

You shiver as his hand drops, deft fingers clutching the hem of his own shirt at your thighs and tugs it up until he reaches the hem of your underwear.

He never drops his expression.

He looks almost annoyed. Angry.

So much so you fear that you've actually said something wrong.

"Aemond-"

"Shh.." he interrupts, his other hand hooked around and resting around your neck, pressing the sides, "I'm not in the mood for words"

You gasp as he practically rips your underwear down your legs, not waiting for you to assist him in lifting your hips, he just pulls forcefully until he shucks them off the bed.

The previous prodding warmth in your belly is stoked to a full roaring flame as he reaches up again, dipping between your thighs to cup your pussy in his palm, swiping two digits against your wetness.

It almost makes you jump, pressing your lips together to stifle a moan and your eyes slipping shut as he teases your sensitive bud.

"I'm going to make you regret saying that" he mused, his breath hot against your neck as he continues to tease you, never really dipping beneath your folds to really touch you. Much to your annoyance.

The sound of your slick moving against his fingers has an embarrassed heat rising to your face.

"You see, Princess? How wet you are for me already?" He mutters deeply, "that's your body talking, not your mouth. Just as it should be"

It's so lewd and domineering, the way he speaks, and how easily he can go from 'watching a movie innocent and cuddling in bed' to 'you don't speak until I give you permission'.

You don't know if you've ever been so turned on in your life.

"I don't want to hear a fucking sound from you. Understood?"

Your tummy flutters with anticipation. Like he's dragging you to a place you've never been before.

You nod, no words leaving your lips.

"That's what I fucking thought" your body jolts properly this time, having to sink your teeth into your lip to contain a whine as he gives a firm, hard slap directly to your core.

"Slut" he whispers, "Are you my little slut?"

Your head is empty. Swirling with desire like being in a sauna. All you have the capacity to do is nod to the best of your ability.

"Good girl" he praises, making your stomach roll and breathing hasten.

You desperately tried not to make a single sound as Aemond's digits sank to the hilt inside you, cooking upwards at a new angle with your back against his chest like this. And yet a tiny, miniscule gasp still managed its way past your lips.

If he noticed it, he didn't say anything.

He just started to fuck you with his fingers, quickly, his other fingers tightening around your neck, to watch the hedonistic look on your face.

It was hard to keep quiet.

He dragged his nose over your cheek, making you shiver, "This is mine" he said gruffly, increasing the pace of him pistoning in and out of you.

Not you are mine.

This is mine.

The lewd sounds of your wetness coating his fingers and hand were the only thing you could hear, bar the soft pants of his breath in your ear.

It felt nice to hand over some semblance of control once in a while.

You feel your climax approach embarrassingly quickly, his hand making contact with your clit with every sharp push inside you.

"I can feel you squeezing my fingers - you're going to cum, aren't you -"

Your chest heaves, pleasured tears pricking at your eyes, nodding quickly as he has made it clear that he will not accept a single word or sound from you.

With a displeased grimace, you whine at the loss of contact as he pulls out quickly, robbing you of the impending orgasm loosening the tension in your gut.

"Fucking slut" he grunts, another harsh slap to your pussy jolts you again, sparking pleasured pain through your bud to your core.

You're barely able to bring yourself up from that lull before your body is dragged further down the bed with Aemond's hips on yours. A bolt of arousal burns through you quickly looking up at him on your back, seeing the determined and fixed expression on his face.

"If it gets too much, tell me"

It's brief, his caring nature, but said through such a stoic look still manages to make the ache in your core even stronger.

You nod.

Before anything else, your breath is caught in your chest as his large hands easily wrap around your wrists and push them down to the mattress, either side of your head.

"Keep them there, where I can see them. Don't move"

Completely lost in the feeling of him looming over you like this, his broad shoulders making him from this angle making him feel larger, his muscles hands holding yours down like it's the easiest thing in the world, you completely forget to reply.

"Understood?" He prods, with a low, warning tone.

You nod a few times, swallowing loudly.

"Good"

His hands slide down, taking note that you're doing as he says and keeping your hands beside your head. You hold back a whimper when his large palms cup your breasts, his fingers tugging near-painfully at the flesh, in an action that only makes your nipples harden to his touch.

Your eyes rake over him, now glazed with lust, pupils blown wide. His form is an absolute marvel to look at, lithe, slender at his middle and a soft sheen on his pecs as he moves in the low light. His bedroom only lit by one warm bedside lamp.

He looks so good.

And your tummy flutters with delight, that's he's all yours.

And you're all his.

In this light, the scar that runs down the side of his left side is even softer, calm and flattened since he'd taken care to ease the redness of it beforehand.

He only has a small smattering of hair on his chest, the rest of it underneath his naval, leading temptingly down past the waistline of his sweatpants, darker than the rest of his hair only slightly.

It makes your mouth water.

He doesn't take his shirt off you.

And there's something so dirty and possessive about him fucking you only wearing his shirt.

Like he wants to see you fall apart with nothing but him around you.

Your heartbeat hums through you. Your core aching with desperation for his attention, clit now feeling utterly abandoned, you can't help but move your hips for any contact, even if it doesn't do anything to quell the need.

His hands come to his sweatpants, thumbing them over his hips, "I want to hear you, princess"

Eyes wide with panic, you look over at the closed door just to check.

Aemond beats you to it.

"Door's locked. Hel and Mum are out. Aeg is downstairs"

You're not sure if that relieves you or not.

"I want this to last. And if you do, then you'll do what I say" he nods, one eyebrow raised, questioning you.

So you nod, a blush creeping up to your cheeks from your neck. All prickly and hot, making your skin all over feel sensitive.

You don't know if you'll ever get over the feeling that overcomes you when you see Aemond naked. You'd seen him entirely naked for the first time at the hotel, where you were forced to share a room.

You remember thinking then that it's a crime he has to wear clothes. He looks so good with them off. He is almost statuesque, as if carved from stone with wiry muscle lingering beneath his pale skin.

Now seeing him, your heart flutters faster seeing where the trail of his darkened hair now leads to. Framing the base of his cock, where his thick and long length, hardened and swollen after teasing you, stands proudly with the tip nearly prodding at his navel.

If you'd been allowed to speak, you still would have been speechless.

His knee knocks against yours softly, wordlessly demanding your legs to widen, so he can see your dripping pussy presented before him.

You almost whine in impatience when Aemond strokes himself, not needing to, but smirking down at you and watching the way your eyes never leave him.

Teasing you on purpose.

It makes you want to touch him, knowing you can't.

"You gonna be good for me?" He asks, his voice dropping an octave lower.

Sucking in a breath, you nod, blinking up at him.

Hands finding your bare hips, he chuckles darkly, gaze trained down on you, "you just want me to use you, don't you, princess?"

You observe the way his eye almost glimmers when he says that. The air becomes thick the closer his naked body gets to yours, it's almost suffocating.

"Go on. Say it"

You swallow, suddenly thinking you don't know how to speak. And your voice comes out shaky.

"Yes - yes, I want you to use me -"

You feel a bit embarrassed saying it, but when he taps his swollen cockhead, leaking with arousal against your slick pussy, it's the last thing on your mind.

Your eyes flit down to where he's holding his length, the veins that lay thick on his skin leading from his wrist up to his forearm-

"Yes, what"

What.

Meeting his smug gaze, he can see the shocked expression on your face. Your heart hammers so quickly in your chest, it's like he can hear it.

Fuck.

He'd seen El's message.

There's no inhibitions, just him.

"Yes - daddy - I want you to use me -"

If Aemond could cum from those words alone, he would.

But for the sake of not feeling cruel, and robbing you of an orgasm, he holds back and simply smirks. Not able to hide the ego boost it gives him, with the tip of one side of his lips.

Without another word, he teases his cockhead through your folds only once, not even giving you time to contemplate he might tease you even more, before leaning forward and spearing you onto his cock, sinking fully inside you in one, surprisingly quick motion.

It catches you off guard, the sudden stretch, the sensation of being filled so quickly. Aemond's fingers dig into your hips, as if for dear life, and pulls you to him, as if there's any way you could be closer.

Aemond simply grunts, " - fuck, baby, you're so tight around my cock - you like being filled like that? - open your eyes for me -"

You do, with effort, as he says, rewarded by the way he looks so happy with himself, sank to the hilt inside of you like that.

“Keep them on me, princess. I don’t like asking twice”

Excitement has you tightening around him again, a fire burning bright in your belly at this dynamic. Sure, there’d been previous partners. They’d done similar things, talked dirty, tried to be overtly dominant in bed. But it always felt forced. And yes, you played it up, tried to take some enjoyment out of it.

But this was completely natural. And it was thrilling.

Barely giving you enough time to adjust to his size, making good on his word, Aemond pulls all the way out, his gaze looking between you to watch how you coat his dick in arousal and pushes all the way back in with a harsh smack. And then another.

Your moans come out almost strained at the pace Aemond sets, each one punctuated with a low grunt, the large expanse of his hands grasping tightly at your hips for leverage to fuck himself into you quickly.

It makes your head feel like it’s full of water, unable to think.

The sensation of his thick length stretching your walls makes you briefly forget, and your hands drag up his forearms and grip tightly.

“No” Aemond grunts, his hands leaving your hips to pin your wrists back to the bed, pressing hard as he continues the relentless snapping of his hips, “Don’t touch - I’m the one who gets to you touch you - that’s it -”

You don’t mean to.

You really don’t mean to.

But you whine at the demand, wanting nothing more than to touch him, feel him.

And there’s that expression again.

"Fucking brat - rolling your eyes at me -" he gruffs, pulling out of you swiftly and flipping you over onto your front, barely giving you time to think. Pain blooms on your ass as Aemond's palm makes contact with it, your core throbbing with want again now that he's not inside you anymore.

"Aemond-"

"Did I say you could talk?" He barks back in a commanding voice, making your lips press together again. You feel his cock heavy on the curve of your ass as he leans over you, one hand under you to prop you up onto your knees with your legs still squeezed together.

"Forgetful as well?" He asks, his other hand snaking around your neck to lift your face to him, "I don't think that's what you called me earlier, was it? - Open -"

His fingers grip your face hard, prompting you, and with a flushed face you obey, parting your lips and moaning low when you feel him spit directly onto your waiting tongue. It sends a bolt of humiliation through you that throbs right where you need him most, where he's so close.

You swallow without being prompted.

"See, so you can be good for me" he muses, a smirk playing on his lips as he shoves your head down into the pillows, leaning back to admire the colour he's made on your ass cheeks in the shape of his hand.

You're thankful for the pillows as he plunges back into you again, muffling your choked moan into the fabric, the angle making it all feel so much deeper than before. Sure, he'd fucked you in the dressing room bent over the vanity. But with your legs pressed together and your spine curved upwards, Aemond hits that sweet spot inside you with infuriating accuracy.

"Fuck - can't believe we've not fucked in my bed before - I'm tempted to keep you here, just like this -"

You can't help but moan at his words, as loud as you will allow yourself to with Aegon still lurking somewhere in the house. You have to admit, the memory foam comes in handy, you can barely hear anything but the slap of moist skin hitting each other and Aemond's low groans of pleasure.

Your gut tightens dramatically, ready to burst at any time. Pressing your lips together, with hands fisting the bedsheets, you try to move your hips in accordance with his, craving extra friction where you can.

Slap.

"Such a needy slut - making such a mess on me -" his gaze is trapped to when you are joined, his hips making your ass ripple with every harsh thrust. Watching in pure adoration as your arousal makes a creamy ring at the base of his cock.

"Just my little fucktoy aren't you, princess - fuck - I can feel you squeezing me, baby -" he speaks like he's struggling to hold breath, constantly using his energy to push back inside you over and over.

"Say it, baby - come on -"

" - mm, fuck I'm gonna cum - please, daddy, I need it -"

It falls from your lips so naturally, not able to handle another denial to hit your peak, mind clouded with desire and need the more his fat cockhead bullies your g-spot.

Aemond's hips become sloppy, clearly arriving at the precipice himself, though he'd hate to see how badly he's losing control right now.

" - ah, fuck - princess -"

You swear your vision blurs for a good few seconds as your orgasm harder than you swear you have in your life, warmth flooding your lips, sending shockwaves straight to your bud. It's so intense, you're not even able to make a sound, just completely overwhelmed as Aemond continues to pound into you.

" fuck-"

You gasp at the loss of him, moaning breathily when you feel warm ropes of cum on your backside, painting your skin with his creamy spend.

The only sound he makes, is a strained whine that lasts a few seconds, but it's the prettiest sound you've ever heard.

Your body feels almost oversensitive, as Aemond drags his cock back down over your ass, painting a line with what remains and slowly pushes one more time into you with a lewd, wet sound, smearing his cum over your bud before he does. He's softened slightly since, but the stretch still makes you whimper, your core feeling utterly used and overstimulated.

He regains his breath for a moment once he pulls out, the mattress rising as he gets off it. Your eyelashes flutter against the pillow, trying to calm the rapid beating of your heart and the trembling aftershocks of your orgasm still ringing through you.

So it makes you jolt when you feel a warm washcloth on you.

"Sorry.." he whispers in a softened voice, continuing until he feels you are entirely clean, before sinking beneath the bedsheets and covering you with them.

Aemond quickly falls back into his normal self, the usual caring, soft and loving person you’ve grown to love. Your heavy eyes open to look up at him, laying beside you in bed, his hand stroking your hair and tucking a wayward strand behind your ear.

You smile at the flush on his pale cheeks.

“Too much?” he asks, a flash of insecurity passing his face.

You shake your head quickly, “No, not at all” you answer softly, pressing a kiss to the cleft of his nose to reassure him, “If it was I would have said”

Feeling a little better, he spares an embarrassed smile that warms your heart, looking down at your intertwined fingers.

“So” he speaks after a beat, biting back a grin when your eyes meet again, “daddy, huh?”

You screw up your face, “Shut up” your voice muffled by your hand over your face, trying to hide your burning cheeks. Aemond simply laughs, pressing a surprisingly chaste kiss to your forehead.

He teases you about it for the rest of the evening.

That is until you clamber atop him later on, and show him that two can play at that game.

He can’t deny it though, he loves that too.

Shockingly, you and Aemond manage to part from his bed every now and then to actually practise the routine.

The routine was perfected, and you’d begrudgingly received the agenda from Otto’s email address about what your outfits would be.

Aemond, as usual, was going to wear black.

You expected to wear white, as you always had. But for some reason, black had also been chosen for you as well. You recall Aemond raising his eyebrow at it, thinking it odd.

Your nose wrinkles with disgust at the thought of wearing something Otto has told you to wear.

But you supposed you had no choice.

For the past few days, in between practice, you’d spend the majority of time in Helaena’s room, making good use of her sewing machine. With the finals looming, your heart barely slowed down, your leg barely unable to cease its twitching with the nerves. Fixing the hems of the garments so they fell in the right spot was a good way to distract yourself, you mused.

“Busy?”

You look up over the machine. Aegon leans against the doorway, a toothy grin on his face as his eyes flit down to the fabric you have on your lap, raising an amused eyebrow.

“Extremely” you reply, pressing on the pedal again.

“Didn’t know you were so skilled at sewing” he says teasingly, taking a few steps into the room.

“I have many talents, Aegon”

“So I’ve heard. Multiple times”

Your cheeks burn, averting your eyes to the project laid in front of you.

Fuck.

Aegon chuckles, “It’s alright. I was worse with the girls I had over. Only fair that my little bro has a turn”

You shook Aegon a warning glance, biting back a smile.

“You know it was pretty gratifying, seeing Otto get knocked down a few pegs” he mutters, “funny as well”

Laughing through your nose, you snip the fabric with some scissors.

“Thank you”

Now that’s the last thing you thought you’d hear from Aegon.

“For what?”

He shrugs, seemingly embarrassed by how vulnerable he’s being. So Aemond and Aegon do share traits.

“Sticking up for Mum” he continues, “and all of us”

This time, it’s impossible to hold back the smile, “The best is yet to come in regards to that”

Aegon narrows his eyes, suspiciously, but smirking at the same time. Amused.

“I’m glad you and Aemond are doing what you want” you add, “and Hel. But that’s your guys’ achievements, not mine”

Aegon rolls his eyes, faking a gag, “Fucking softie”

But he does give you one last, grateful smile as he leaves, his eyes once again dropping to the fabric in your lap, eyes glimmering with mischief.

Ping.

And you know then you’ve made the right choice.

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard | @bellstwd | @blairfox04 | @hb8301 | @jamespotterismydaddy | @mochi-rose | @nenelysian | @natty2017 | @randomdragonfires | @risefallrise | @theoneeyedprince | @thelittleswanao3 | @tsujifreya | @urmomsgirlfriend1 | @valeskafics | @watercolorskyy

Aemond Taglist (1): @asp3nxx | @avidreader73 | @bellaisasleep | @boofy1998

[tttt06]

Where Were You

IdolJungwon x Blackreader

Request are open! I reply quickly. Masterlist here

Synopsis~ Jungwon hasn't given you attention, so you went out to a party. Jungwon is pissed about this, what do you do?

Warnings~ Arguments, sexual comfort, intimacy, smut, oral (receiving), dirty talk, multiple orgasms, ANGRY JUNGWON

Word Count~ 1.6K

Jungwon has been rude lately. He's been ignoring your messages and acting single.

So, you decided you would have a girl's night and get wasted. That's what you did. 

You came home to your apartment. You wore a short strapless dress and sneakers. 

Your ass hurt from all the ass you were throwing. You threw off your shoes as you groaned. You were still on the phone with your friend, yelling. "Tell Kevin I think he's cuteee~ He should come over!!"

You switched on the light and gasped. "My boyfriend is here!" Kevin yelled, "Boyfriend?! I thought you were single?!" 

You waddled over and hugged him. His tall and sturdy stature keeps your dizzy body upright.

"I do! I love my boyfriend. Anyways, give Kayla her phone and tell her to be safe." Kevin said, "I wanted to go on a date."

Jungwon snatched the phone, "She's busy."

He hung up, and that's when you caught on. Your head was throbbing as the easy smile stayed on your face. "What's got your panties in a twist?"

Jungwon said tightly, "Where were you?" You stepped back, tripping on your feet a little. 

"I was having fun." He quirked an eyebrow. His arms folded as he asked, "Were you planning on telling me, or did you get too drunk to remember?"

You rolled your eyes, "Not like you would respond anyway. You're too busy for me." You started walking away, and Jungwon followed. He grabbed you back, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

You groaned as you swayed under his grip, "You're ruining my night. We can talk another time."

Jungwon said, "It's not my fault you decided to get drunk while I was worried sick about you."

You tilted your head, "Now you're worried?" Jungwon furrowed his eyebrows deeper, "Yeah. I am. I've always been. You can't just-"

You cut him off, "Just what? Go out and have fun!? I'm a fucking grown adult. I pay the bills in this apartment you walk in like you own! Give me your fucking keys, and stay away from me for a while. You're pissing me off, and I don't wanna be around you anymore. You're playing the victim."

Jungwon's face was red, "I'm playing the victim! Who went out and got drunk because of a couple missed texts!? You're out with whoever the fuck Kevin is all night! Are you cheating now!?"

You pushed him as tears started to well, "FUCK YOU, JUNGWON! I've been texting you since Wednesday morning. I get no response! It's Friday! I understand if you're stressed and need space, but you won't ridicule me for leaving like you have been this past month!"

You're alcohol left your system as tears started streaming, "You're drunk. Go to bed."

You laughed as you hit his chest defeatedly. "You're so stupid!"

Jungwon just hugged you as you angrily cried in his arms. It wasn't long before you were sobbing.

Jungwon said, "Stop crying." You shook your head, "I'm sick of you telling me what to do! I want to live my fucking life without you on my back."

Jungwon hugged you closer, "I'm sorry."

You pulled away, "I'm not ready to accept your apology."

He cupped your cheeks and wiped the tears away, "I'm sorry that I've been absent. I've been stressed, and instead of coming to you, I was running away. You were doing the same thing."

You confessed, "It was immature." 

Jungwon laughed, "You were upset."

You shook your head, "I'm sorry, too. I guess I've really needed you lately." Jungwon pressed his lips into yours softly.

It was the kind of kiss that made you melt. When Wonnie pulled away, your lips stretched a little.

The kind of kiss that made you two stare at each other with so much love and adoration. You were ready to marry him.

Jungwon said, "What are you thinking about?"

You thought carefully about what to say. You took a deep breath and confessed, "I'm mad because of something else, too."

Jungwon quirked an eyebrow, "Yeah?"

You pulled away, getting shy, "You haven't had time for us in other ways."

Your head was facing down as Jungwon asked, "What do you mean by that?"

He stepped closer to you, and you said, "Sex, Wonnie. I've been so horny I've been ready to pounce on anyone."

Jungwon pressed you against the wall as he said, "I haven't been taking care of my girl?"

He bit your earlobe and whispered, "You need my dick that bad huh?" You shuddered as you nodded, "I need you."

Jungwon tapped your leg, and you jumped around him. He pressed his lips against your neck as you moaned, "Wonnie."

He sighed and asked, "Yeah?"

You gasped when you felt his tongue trace along your jugular. He kissed under your chin as you confessed, "I'm wet."

Jungwon laughed as he carried you to your room. He dropped you on the bed as he took off his shirt. You bit your lip as you stared at his chest and abs.

"You like what you see?" You answered, "Always, baby."

Your hands instinctively reached out to touch as you said, "You've been working out a lot."Jungwon looked at your small hand as he hardened. 

Your delicate, small, brown hand smoothed over his abs. He looked up at you, and you were staring at him. Your pretty round eyes, begging for him.

He groaned as he slid off your pants. "Take off your shirt." 

You followed his directions. Jungwon was biting his lip as he kneeled. "Slide to the headboard."

You pushed yourself back as Jungwon crawled after you. He slid your panties off and stared at your glistening pussy.

"You're so wet, baby. Fuck."

He attempted to stick his finger in, and it glided inside your hole with ease. As his finger seeped in, your body relaxed. You moaned with satisfaction as he pushed in and out.

His head dove down to kiss your clit. Your hands dug into his hair as he made out with your bud. You whined when he added a second finger. 

Jungwon slurped as he roughly dug his finger into you. You pulled his hair, and Jungwon moaned into your pussy.

The vibration made you sink deeper into the couch. "Mm. That feels good." Jungwon let his arms sink under your thighs as he shoved his face deeper into your pussy.

His tongue slid up your clit, sending a flash of pleasure up your spine. "Ah~" Jungwon plugged a third finger in, stretching you further. "Ah~ Wonnie! Please!"

Jungwon groaned as he fuck you with his fingers. He sped up as you gripped his arm. Your legs rested on both of his broad shoulders as you shook.

"I'm gonna-" Jungwon sucked harder as he plunged his fingers deeper. Your body lifted as you cried out. "Ah... fuck."

Your grip loosened as you started cumming. Jungwon didn't stop licking. He was slurping up your juices as you breathed shaky breaths.

When he pulled away, his eyes were full of hunger. Jungwon said, "I'm gonna dig so deep inside of you that all you can do is scream, baby."

He leaned in closer as he kissed you deeply.

His tongue went down your throat as you tasted yourself on him.

You let his hands grab yours as they enveloped together. "I'm gonna make you feel so good tonight, baby."

You shuddered as he kissed your neck. You heard his belt buckle start to jingle as he took it off. 

It wasn't long before you felt his hot tip rub along your clit. "F-fuck Y/N."

He let his cock slip into your tight hole. Your eyes squeezed shut from the stretch. Jungwon dug deep until he reached your hilt.

He didn't move as he peppered kisses all over your face.

Jungwon said, "That feel good?"

You nodded as Jungwon started rocking his hips. Your eyes fluttered closed.

Jungwon thrusted again, his breath shaky. Low, shaky moans came from his chest as he stared at you.

He loved the way you relaxed when you were under him. The relief was taking him.

He kissed your nose, "I love you so much, Y/N."

Jungwon thrust a little firmer. Your body rocked to his slow rhythm. You gasped when he fucked you hard.

The feeling of his angry tip slamming into your G-spot as your skin slapped together was unbearable.

You moaned, "Jungwon! Feels so good!"

Jungwon panted, "Yeah? Fucking taking my cock so well, baby. Fuck! Take it all! I love how you clench around me."

Jungwon started getting rough as you let your hips slide up to him. His dick went further.

Your body felt tight as you started to shake, "I'm going to cum!"

You squeezed his shoulder as he sucked on your breast. You were overstimulated. Your hole was throbbing and clenching. 

Jungwon was moaning your name like a chant as you felt yourself release. Your lip got caught in your teeth as you had your first orgasm since last month.

Jungwon kissed you as he fucked you once more for him.

Then, it was silence. Sweet nothing and kisses.

You were laying on his chest and tracing his abs. "I felt really alone this past month, Jungwon. I was worried you were going to leave me."

Jungwon's chest caved as he spoke. The conversation turned vulnerable as his sweaty skin stuck to your cheek. "I'm supposed to be your protector. The feeling of relying on you makes me uncomfortable because I'm supposed to be your rock."

You shook your head, "You're supposed to be my boyfriend. That's it. So stop showing me your idol image. I wanna see the real you."

Jungwon kissed your head, "I'm sorry, Y/N. I'll try to be better."

You hugged him tighter, "I forgive you. Always."

[spar-kie]

Do You Have The Time?

A Thorough Dissection of What Past Aevium Means For You

So I've been reading through @/jazz-kitty's rejuv playthrough (not actually tagging them bc this will contain spoilers for shit they've not gotten to but if you're reading this Jazz, keep up the good work! It's super fun to read through your playthrough :>), and I've realized we got some concrete dates (in a fashion), meaning that, we might be able to figure out when Storm 9 happens, within a couple months! As well as some other details.

Anyways even if you don't want to hear my rambling about dates, there's gonna be something I really want to share underneath the cut, I'll put some big bold header text so you know where to scroll to.

Now, it all starts here, with Melia's Mimikyu, which we are there to see caught, giving us a concrete date, October 10th, 198X.

Now you may be asking yourself, but Sparkie, the screenshot says 1984? That's because my buddy Nym, who is on the dev team, stated that to its memory, the year is calculated based off your system date. Meaning that the year will change depending on the year you play Rejuv in. However, Jazz's post that I got this from does mention in the tags how the rest of Melia's pokemon are caught from 1981-1983. I had an old save file kicking around that was near Blacksteeple, and checking "Emma's" Pokemon in that I can also say that these dates are variable based off system time. Being 198X-3 through 198X-1. For simplicity's sake we're going to be based off of System Time being the year 2024, mostly because shit like 198X-1 is hard to read. But just keep in mind that as Rejuv is set in 202X these dates have about a 10 year range they can vary by, this will come back later, take note of this.

I want to establish before we go forward, you can also see how this works for yourself rather easily, if you go into the past and catch a pokemon, the date it's caught at will be your system time, minus 40 years. This, combined with some plot elements such as Melia's birthday being after she catches this Mimikyu confirms that the past segments take place exactly 40 years before present day, with the Time Crystals not sending you back or forth to a specific time and date, but rather a set amount of time forward and back (in this case 40 years).

Anyways, this also lets us know that Storm-9 happened a little over 39 years ago as of the game's start, and at some point during the game's time span we will hit the 40 year anniversary. I always thought it was 50 years before the game's start, I don't remember if I got that from somewhere in game or it's just one of them things I got in my head, but between the wiki and a reply from Zumi on one of my tweets it's actually 40. If anyone has the same misconception I had, I hope that clears it up.

But through what we can gleam in game, we can actually tell (roughly) when Storm-9 happens! Judging by the fact we can still visit the past at the end of the .karma files, Storm-9 has not hit the past yet. It's going to happen very soon, but it's not there yet. Thankfully, we have a very concrete date on when that would be, December 25th, 2024, as the Xen Raid is just one day later. Meaning, that as of December 25th, 1984, the Aevium region is still fine. This combined with the fact that there is a note on the door of the house occupied by the A-Gang near Hyoshi City that says they'll be out until the Summer means that they are going to be at school until late May, early June, assuming it runs at similar time frames to a school in the U.S.. Meaning that, at some point, most likely in Early 1985, but possibly for about a week in Late 1984, is when Storm 9 hits. You could extrapolate more (i.e. no teachers/other students in the academy during the Interceptor's Nightmare Realm means people might've been on break, meaning it was Late 1984 and the gang was just hanging out at the academy) but as that's explicitly stated to be not entirely accurate to how that day actually was, I'm not going to do that.

HI IF YOU JUST WANT THE FUNNY INFORMATION SCROLL HERE

Anyways, now that you've heard me ramble about dates like your history teacher, we get to the fun part! That being I get to tell you about the A gang! That being we know the protag choices are 17-18 years old, and given that we know Storm 9 happened in either very Late 1984 or Early 1985, we can assume that the A-Gang were those ages during Storm-9. Meaning their birth years could range between 1966-1968, placing them firmly in Gen X, meaning they are chronologically old enough to be some of the people reading this's parents!

But that's not all, do you remember how I stated that Rejuv took place in 202X, meaning it could be any year of the 2020s? And thus, the past segments take place in any year 40 years before that, in the 1980s? If we were to say, put the year Rejuv takes place in in 2020, then that would mean the A Gang would be born in the years 1962-1964.

The general consensus on baby boomers is that they were born between 1946-1964.

The A Gang could, conceivably, be baby boomers.

Have a nice night everyone.

[fou4summer]

DATE NIGHT woo seulgi × fem!reader

synopsis:Your girlfriend, Seulgi, decides to take you out for a movie night at a theater.

warnings:none

genre:Fluff

word count:: 0.8k

You were walking to your class when you were tapped on the shoulder. You turned around and saw your girlfriend, Seulgi.

"Y/N, there's a new Star Wars movie in the theaters, and I got two tickets. Are you free to go with me?" She held the tickets in front of your face with a smile.

"Of course! When is it?" you asked, smiling at her. She turned the tickets around to check the time and looked up at you.

"It's tomorrow at 7PM. Does that work for you? If not, I can ask for anothe-" You cut her off by giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.

"7PM sounds great!" You walked past her, heading to your class. Seulgi touched her cheek where you kissed her and smiled to herself.

-

"So, you're seriously gonna go? Come on, Y/N. She should’ve invited you for dinner or something, and she picks...Star Wars?" Your friend Yeri laughed as you walked home together.

"What's wrong with that? I think her liking it is a green flag, atleast shes not out in clubs." You replied while texting Seulgi to see if she finished school.

"I thought Seulgi had more in her, but she's really just a nerd even without all that studying." You playfully hit her arm after she said that.

"Stop it Yeri! You're just being rude now. I mean, she has ten times better grades than you do." You replied, and she gasped before running after you.

-

You got ready for the date and walked to the cinema. You spotted Seulgi already waiting, petting a cat. You quickly took a picture before walking up to her.

"Hey." You said, making her look up. She got up and looked at your outfit. It was simple, but she stared a bit longer than she should have. You cleared your throat before she replied.

"Oh, s-sorry! Hey!" She said, handing you your ticket. Since you were a bit early, you both played with the cat outside the theater.

-

Seulgi checked the time on her phone and said you should head in. You both sat in your assigned seats, and there were actually quite a lot of people watching the movie. A lot of kids were there, and your girlfriend, dressed like one today, looked absolutely adorable.

She was so focused on the movie that she didn’t notice when you took her hand. You interlocked your fingers, and she finally turned to look at you. It was really dark, but you bet she was blushing as always.

She awkwardly smiled before turning back to the screen. The movie was long, but it was surprisingly good and entertaining, which you hadn’t expected.

When the movie ended, Seulgi made you wait until the end of the credits because she hoped there would be more after, as she read online. What she got was just a black screen, but she was happy anyway.

-

As you both exited the theater, you were still holding hands when she slowly slipped her hand away to put it in her pocket and find something.

"Here, this is my gift for coming today." She gave you a keychain with 'I love you' written on it and two cats underneath. You smiled, taking it and looking at it for a moment.

"Thank you, it's so cute!" You gave her a hug, and she stiffened a bit before wrapping her arms around your waist.

You were now taking a walk back home. It was summer, yes, but the night had gotten chilly. Seulgi had on a long-sleeved shirt, and she noticed you were cold, so she took it off and handed it to you.

"Oh, thank you! Aren't you going to be cold, though?" You asked as you put it on, her scent hitting you instantly.

"We're almost home. I can manage." She smiled warmly before taking your hand in hers.

"It was really nice today. I had so much fun, Seulgi. We should do it again sometime!" You told her, resting your head on her shoulder.

"I can find a movie to watch these days!" She replied almost immediately, making you smile.

"I said sometime, not every day, silly." You poked her waist, and she laughed, intertwining her fingers with yours. She followed you home, and you gave her an unexpected peck on the lips that shocked her at first but made her melt into it a second later. You both laughed and joked until your parents called you to come inside since it was getting late.

[jupitercl0uds]

please for the love of god talk to me about fonts. please i’m so serious i need to get infodumped at about this

this is mostly technical stuff but then again i am obviously an artist so i might bring up more artsy stuff

also this is going off the top of my head so some aspects may be inaccurate!!! particularly the stuff about pre-digital fonts!!!

while fonts have kinda existed as long as writing, they really started to properly exist around the time of the printing press, in the 1400s. then, in the victorian era, they invented the typewriter. these obviously had plenty of benefits to society as a whole, but i'm kinda gonna just. overlook that. cause it doesnt really matter here.

while the printing press didn't really have 1 font, typewriters did have a standard font, as i'm sure youre aware. in america (and plenty of other countries), this was american typewriter, which you can still use today!

fun fact: there's a good change your favourite font predates digital fonts!!! some examples are times new roman, papyrus and (as i said earlier) american typewriter

in the 80s, paste up, a long tedious process where you would have to cut out and paste everything onto a grid by hand, was rendered obsolete, because of the growing use of home computers. 3 companies (apple, microsoft and adobe) play a giant role in everything because capitalism.

while apple was the most popular at first, you probably already know that microsoft would then dominate the market, offering alongside itself all those wonderful little microsoft office programs i know so well. all of these companies had a big design rivalry, and like most rivalries of that kind, they've definitely died down a bit by now. don't get me wrong, they're still competitors, so they're still gonna have their discrepancies, but microsoft and apple aren't design companies, so they're kinda just. eh.

they also had SO MANY BAD THINGS about them. did you know that arial shouldn't exist? oh and by the way, i HATE arial. its so ugly. its an eyesore. same with helvetica, though i think i prefer arial.

arial was created specifically to imitate the ever-successful helvetica, which is why the two fonts look so similar. you see, apple owned the rights to helvetica and microsoft wanted it for themself, so, they commissioned a very very similar font instead. i believe there was a legal issue over here in europe that never happened in the usa, because if you can create the same product in a different way in the usa, you can get the same patent. the same rule does not apply in the eu. there are differences between helvetica and arial, but they are predominantly in the way they're drawn. i dont have my graphic design program installed right now, so i cant give a good visual demonstration, but i'll try to explain.

basically, in vector graphics, there's always multiple ways to create the same image. for example, if i want to make a circle, i can use 4 rounded vertices or i could use 5 and still get the same image.

anyway, this is what microsoft did for the majority of the letters, with a few exceptions, such as capital G. also i believe the kerning and spacing is slightly different??? btw, kerning is like complicated spacing. it's specifically the space between 2 characters rather than the entire body of text.

then theres the file formats.

it's important to know the difference between bitmap and vector. if you draw, you're probably using bitmap, if you design, you're probably using vector. in adobe terms, photoshop is bitmap while illustrator is vector.

bitmap is typically easier and more standard for general images, for example when a vector image is exported as an image, all the most common image files (png, gif, jpg, hell even webp*) are bitmap.

*i hate webp files a lot.

however, vector can give you a more crisp image in a more lightweight manor. whats more, no matter how large you make your bitmap image, when you zoom in enough, you will eventually start to see the pixels. that isn't the case for vector graphics, because it specifically stores the instructions for how to make an image rather than the actual image itself.

so, when everyone's been using bitmap fonts and then suddenly adobe come out with these amazing new otf files, which use vector over bitmap, everyone wants in. the main issue?

what is always adobe's biggest problem? that's right,

CORPORATE GREED 🎉🎉🎉

adobe paywalled otf files, so what did apple and microsoft do? apple created ttf files, which is basically the same thing as an otf file, and also gave them to microsoft for completely free. this then pressured adobe into releasing otf files to the public, too. funnily enough, while both file formats are commonly used, it's probably more likely that you use TTF files in your everyday life.

while i have more to say (because i ALWAYS have more to say), that's all i can at the moment. as i said, fonts have a very rich history and that's only the tip of the iceberg!!!

[deafmangoes]

An Album of Christmas Carols - 5

It's time. The one you've all been waiting for. Somehow universally seen as the best adaptation of Dickens' classic.

"A Muppet Christmas Carol" (1992, Michael Caine)

This was the first full-length adaptation of A Christmas Carol that I recall ever watching, and has pretty much been my favourite to rewatch ever since. I was actually so used to this version that the first time I saw a different one I was confused why there weren't two Marleys.

We open with a sweep over London and an introduction to our narrator, Gonzo the Great Charles Dickens, and his friend Rizzo the Rat. From Brooklyn, NYC. The addition of the narrator is a clever touch (and, I suspect, the only way they could think to use Gonzo), and marks this adaptation as the most "book-accurate", according to the BBC (due to the large amount of text quoted directly from the novella).

Michael Caine really epitomises the role for me. Soft-spoken but hard. Trigger temper. Intimidating and heartless. After the opening song, early scenes with Nephew Fred, the charity men, Kermit Cratchit (and the other bookkeepers), he departs home and Cratchit sings a song that gets stuck in my head around this time every damn year.

Ghosts? Ghosts!

Back home, the doorknocker very creatively morphs into (Jacob) Marley's face. I don't know how they did it. Maybe vacuumed it but reversed the footage. We only get a brief bit of the other 'tells' before Jacob (and Robert) Marley appear to heckle their old business partner. Their song is great, probably my favourite part of the film.

"Doomed, Scrooge! You're doomed for all time / Your future is a horror story written by your crimes / Your chains are forged by what you say and do / So have your fun, when life is done a nightmare waits for you!"

Christmas Past looks to me like the thing that comes out of the Ark of the Covenant in Indiana Jones, right before it turns into the angel of death and kills all the Nazis. And because of that, I never feel very comfortable while it's on-screen. Weird childlike angel spirit whatsit.

(In the outtakes, Gonzo manages to get his grappling hook through his own head. The puppeteers play it off wonderfully).

The scenes in the school are hilarious to me, particularly Sam the Eagle's two major jokes:

"Work hard lad, and some day your life will be as solid as this very building!"

/Gonzo and Rizzo break the shelf in the background

"Hrm. I've been meaning to fix that shelf."

And of course:

"You'll love business. It's the American way!"

/Gonzo corrects Sam

"Ah. Hrm. It is the British way!"

Fozziwig's party is shown, where the filmmakers manage to fit in all the other Muppets they'd be hard-pressed to place, like Doctor Teeth's band and the Swedish Chef. Rizzo ends up on fire for the first, but not the last, time this film.

Now, depending on when you were introduced to this film you may or may not realise there's a big emotional award-bait song here after Belle breaks up with Scrooge. It was in the original cut, and the VHS edition, but got cut for broadcast. When DVDs were first printed, the master had been lost so you could only get the version without the song. Apparently it's now back on Disney+ as an extra.

The song isn't all that, to be honest, but without it the reprise later in the film doesn't hit quite right, so... Swings and roundabouts. Past departs, Scrooge is deposited back in bed, just in time for...

... Okay, this might be controversial, but. Christmas Present is the weakest part of the film. The costume is impressive, and made specifically for this film (well, all three ghosts were), and the song is nice, but this version of the ghost just doesn't have the sarcastic bite that I enjoy so much. Even when he does deliver the ironic echo to Scrooge, it sounds out-of-place precisely because he's been nothing but 'nice' up until that point.

Anyway. We get Nephew Fred's party and the Cratchit's Christmas (the second time Rizzo ends up on fire), with the scene-stealing Miss Piggy giving it her all as Emily Cratchit. "It's a chef thing, dear" was a very common refrain around our house when we were eating something out-of-turn.

As Present fades away, Scrooge is left with the tall, ominous Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come, who speaks entirely in deep bassoon audio cues. The tone of the film shifts considerably in this segment, so much so they even have Gonzo and Rizzo depart to make it more serious. Old Joe and the others who benefit from Scrooge's death are all creatively shown as vermin and carrion feeders - a spider, a moth, a crow and a bug*.

(*Well, she's described as a potato in Muppet's Treasure Island, but eh).

The Cratchit household sans Tim is a sad place and Scrooge can only bear so much of it before tearfully confronting his own mortality and begging repentance from the mute spirit.

Then, of course, it's Christmas Day! He hasn't missed it! Scrooge engages the services of the caroller seen previously to haul an absolutely massive turkey downtown. In a departure from the book, he stops only briefly at Fred's to deliver presents then goes directly to the Cratchit household, where Miss Piggy violently threatens him. Misunderstandings cleared up, Scrooge helpfully invites half of the entire city of London into this one-up, one-down Camden house and we close out on everyone singing a happy reprise of Belle's "you suck and I'm breaking up with you" song.

Highlights and Humbugs

Despite anything I said above about the film's few flaws, they really are very few and far between. The serious, professional acting of Caine opposite the Muppets is the thing that sells the whole film, and I really wish they'd do more of this sort of classic literary adaptation.

It also holds a special place in the hearts of those who worked on the film - it was the first Muppets outing after Jim Henson, the creator of the original show, had died. The cast were unsure if they should or even could continue without him, though Jim's son, Brian Henson, was encouraged by co-creator Frank Oz to take up the puppets and the result was this masterpiece. Michael Caine has also spoken about this being one of his favourite roles, and how easy it was to forget that he was acting against puppets.

The songs are great. The jokes are funny. The effects hold up. The core of the story shines through. It's just a very good version overall.

10 out of 10 Humbugs. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

[lemonlushff-iy]

Do you want to play a game?

You do? Good.

You know how these games work if you’ve ever seen one of Clearwillow’s...but game rules are HERE since it’s slightly different! I hope this is fun for people...that was my goal! And I hope you catch the “Easter Eggs” in it. I’m curious how many people will find them all. 

I’ll post everything once it’s done on FFN and AO3, and you can catch what I’m doing for @clearwillow‘s game early on my Patreon HERE! (It might be more smut...It might be fluff. WHO KNOWS! It will be OLR related...and it will go up as soon as it’s finished!)

Special thanks to @underwater0phelia​ for kink help and @clearwillow​ for additional edits...and the IYFF BC for brainstorming! Art by @clearwillow​ for @eringobroke​ - used and edited with permission. 

And now without further ado... The first treat (aka, the “freebie”).

Starting Fires

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from the Inuyasha universe.

"Inuyasha, stop," Kagome giggled, trying to wriggle out of his hold as he pressed wet kisses up her neck. "I don't want to burn your bacon…"

"It's just bacon," he reasoned, his hands sliding up under her shirt. Or should he say his shirt? Fuck...there wasn't a better sight in the world than his best friend...his best girl...Kagome...Wearing his shirt in their kitchen in their house. Now that he had her again, he weren't never letting go of her. "I don't mind eating something else for breakfast."

"You will when your stomach is rumbling later," she blushed, grabbing his hands and pulling them down, his fingers grazing over the lace fabric of her panties. "Behave yourself and go grab a cup of coffee."

"I'd rather grab your—"

"—Coffee!"

She reprimanded, flipping the bacon in the pan. He placed a gentle nip to the side of her neck before moving away from her, a disappointed pout on his lips.

"Fine. But let it be known that I'm doing it under protest," he grumbled, moving to his cabinet to pull out a mug.

"Your protest has been duly noted, Sir," she teased, turning away from the stove to pick up her own cup of coffee. She brought it to her lips, sipping from it as she watched Inuyasha pour himself some. Their life together felt so surreal still. It felt strange to wake up in their house and cook them breakfast.

But it was a good kind of surreal.

The kind where she found herself pinching her arm to make sure it wasn't all some crazy dream. This was their life. And...she loved it.

"Mmm," he moaned, taking a sip from his cup. "As good as ever, Kags," he grinned toothily, and she risked entering his personal space to press another kiss to his lips.

"Glad you like it," she replied, running away from him again when he moved to squeeze her ass. She removed their bacon and eggs from the pan as a text message chimed on both of their phones, and Inuyasha raised a brow in curiosity. She watched him slide his thumb across the screen, before muttering out a low "Huh" as he read the text.

"What is it?" she asked, picking up their plates and placing them onto the island.

"See for yourself," he shrugged, placing the phone down next to her plate. "It's from Sango."

That already piqued her curiosity. Kagome picked up the phone, leaning over the countertop as she read it.

"Hey Guys!" She began aloud. "Miroku and I decided to throw a Halloween party this year. We know it's a bit last minute, but we were hoping you guys could come since you aren't heading back out to California like you thought. Let us know if you can make it! Trying to plan in terms of food. Love you!"

"Love you too," he grinned, and she couldn't stop the shy smile even if she wanted to. She didn't think she would ever get tired of hearing that again from him. The words were like a balm to her soul.

"What do you think?" Kagome asked, handing him his phone back as he began digging his fork into his eggs.

"Up to you," he shrugged. He really didn't care either way. He was just glad he didn't have to go out to California with her. Though, to tell the truth, he wouldn't have minded. They could have had a night in...just the two of them...And he was always a fan of nights in with her. But..."We can go. I know you wanna…"

It was true too. He had seen the way her eyes lit up when she was reading that message. The way she was practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. Kagome didn't want to spend the night in. She wanted to spend her first Halloween back in Montana at a party with old friends.

"But...You...Don't?"

He shrugged.

"Don't matter either way. I'm fine going. I'm fine staying home and fucking ya seven ways from Sunday."

"Yash!"

"What! It's tha truth," he replied with a smirk. "And you can't tell me ya don't like the sound of it," he continued, running his tongue over his fangs. The cute little blush he pulled from her was worth it.

"Well...How about a compromise?"

He paused, lifting his brow in curiosity.

"Go on…"

"What if we went to the party...Just for an hour or two...and then afterward we can come home and have sex? Oh! We can even wear couple's costumes again!"

The phrase couples costume made his butt clench so tight he could probably twist off a beer cap with his cheeks.

"I'll agree to go to the party...but not the couple's costume."

"But Yash," she whined, coming around the island to take his hands. "That's part of the fun…"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"I'll wear something slutty?"

"N—" He began, ready to tell her no again when his brain processed her offer. "Keep talking."

"I'll wear something slutty and sexy?"

"...Uh-huh...And what else?"

"...And you get to take it off of me?"

He almost said yes...but he was a greedy fucker. He was probably gonna take it off of her even if she hadn't offered that.

"Do I get to do more than that?"

"You mean other than wear a matching outfit?"

"I do."

"Well," she began, tilting her head to the side and pursing her lips in thought. "I'm assuming that sex is a given…"

"But you can say it anyway, and make it interesting," he shrugged. If he was going to get roped into this...because he was going to say yes, because he loved her...then he wanted to squeeze as much as he could out of this.

"Ok...If you do it, sex is on the table...and I'll also add you picking the place and position," she decided, causing his eyes to light up.

Place and position huh?

"Well...In that case Darling, you've got yourself a deal!"

Her childlike squeal and the way she giddily clapped her hands, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, made him feel like he made the right decision.

"Now let's talk costumes…"

He groaned, shaking his head and digging his fork into the eggs on his plate.

Then again...Maybe not…

He let her prattle on for a while, running different ideas past him...But he knew that it ultimately wouldn't matter. He was going to give in to whatever she wanted. If she wanted him to go as a hot dog, and she was going to be a bottle of mustard? That was what was going to happen. Wasn't sure how she could make it sexy...but sure. Her call. Prince and Princess? No fighting it. Batman and Catwoman…

It had piqued his interest, but she almost instantly changed her mind. The cowl would be uncomfortable for his ears.

So, she decided on a fireman and a dalmatian. He looked over at her phone when she held up a picture of the costume she had found for him and sighed.

"That's what you want?"

It didn't look too bad. And it looked like he could maybe get away with just wearing the pants. He was going to have to be sneaky about it though...He could do just a t-shirt and those pants.

"Please?" she beseeched, batting her long lashes at him. "It will be so cute! And you'll look so good!"

He tilted his head to the side, and she chewed the inside of his lip as she watched him roll her suggestion around in his head. She really liked the fireman outfit. She thought it would be fun! And he would look good in it too...She could already picture him slowly taking off the jacket to reveal his bare torso...the suspenders holding up his pants hanging limply at the sides as he slowly peeled himself out of—

"—What are you thinking about Kagome?"

She looked up at his face and saw him looking at her, a smirk stretching his lips as he limply held the phone, leaning down across the island.

"N-nothing," she blushed, swiping out to grab the phone from him, but he pulled it away from her at the last second.

"Nu-uh. I can smell it when you're lying…and I can smell it when you're—"

"—NOTHING!"

She insisted, grabbing the phone from him this time, and his grin turned predatory.

"Ain't nothing, or you wouldn't be smelling like that," he countered cheekily before his gaze began to darken. "Ya know...You don't have to keep that bottled up…"

"Inuyasha," she warned as he straightened, running his carefully filed and declawed fingers along the island countertop as he slowly came around to her side.

He was ignoring her, however.

"Kagome," he replied, closing in on her in just a few short strides. "Were you thinking about me in that fireman outfit?"

Sometimes she swore he could read her mind.

"N-no…"

"Liar," he purred, placing his hands onto the granite top on either side of her hips. He had effectively trapped her...and he was looking at her like prey.

It made her swallow because her mouth was suddenly dry. And made her lower abdomen heat. The intensity and desire in his gaze...the slight glint of fang in the morning light…

Fucking hell...She wanted to be his prey. Wanted to be captured and eaten and...eaten…

He inhaled deeply, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he lowly moaned, "Fuck Kags…"

"W-what," she swallowed, and his smirk widened into a fangy grin before his lips crashed into hers.

AN:

I WILL ONLY DO THIS WALL OF TAGS ONCE! All future treats will be completely hidden under cuts so I don’t spam everyone’s timeline with in your face kink!

@clearwillow, @keichanz, @dangerouspompadour, @nartista, @kaze-ranna, @superpixie42, @sticky-llama-perfection, @pinkpigeonstudio, @mcornilliac, @itzatakahashi, @zelink-inukag, @juliatheanimelover7, @i-dream-of-soup, @smmahamazing, @the-lucky-ones311, @cyncyn981, @animemomma96, @ayari17, @underwater0phelia, @sailorbabydoll92, @l-taisho29, @animelove1313, @littlemissinukag​, @gofoulpuppycollector, @umacaking, @chanin29​,  @willowandfog​, @lebiishoujo​, @theinuyashareader​, @bluejay785​, @irrationalandimpossible​, @cstorm86​, @ruddcatha​, @desiree239​, @littledaisy91​, @liz8080​, @cannibalsforbreakfast​, @horriblehowl​, @arcprz​, @daisy-st-pati3nce​, @senneth-pendra​, @nsr0716​, @eringobroke​, @kagometaishostory​, @thisshipisbananahs​, @sunsetskys​, @ajoy3fanfics​, @sangoslays​, @v0dka-cat​, @cloudsz04​, @lavendertwilight89​, @yurawiththegoodhair​, @saturnsilence​, @lavaffair​, @blairex​, @fawn-eyed-girl​, @fandomobsessions016​, @neutronstarchild​, @preciouslyours​, @kalsies​, @shnuggletea​, @ladyphoenix0711​, @littlestuffstohide​

See you at 500 notes!!

[chefdoeuvre]

Busted

Jay Halstead

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Sister!Reader

Description: You're not as slick as you originally thought.

Words: 1,021

Requested: yes by anonymous; I wanted to request a Halstead sister! imagine where jay is undercover or something and they run into his high school sister at a club or house party? I love your blog!

Warnings: mention of drinking, drugs, language, Jay Halstead being way too overprotective.

A/N: I changed it from undercover to Jay working overtime because I thought it’d be funny for the reader to have to ride in the back of his patrol car. I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors.

—

Sneaking out to go to a party was not a part of your plans tonight but since Will and Jay were going to be at work for the majority of the night you decided to throw caution to the wind and go. Of course, you didn’t exactly think through much before throwing on a random top and bottoms that could be deemed good enough and headed to the party. The party wasn’t a special invite-only type of party you saw on television it was open to the whole school if you felt like showing up. It was one of the top hockey players’ houses since his parents would be gone for the week on a business trip. There was a lot of drinking and some weed smoking going on in the backyard. Music was decently loud for the time of night it was and people were busy dancing their cares away from the past week.

While others were busy shoveling substances in their systems to have fun you stayed near the front of the house where most of the sober people resided. Most of you were just making conversation or making jokes about how the guys acted when they wanted to play beer pong with tequila. The front area included a living room with a large couch to fill up the space which was where a majority of the calmer students sat while nursing their only cup that they planned on having for the night.

Obviously, another thing you didn’t plan was for Jay to be working the area where the party was held for his overtime shift. When sirens began nearing the property everyone began running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Your luck just so happened to run out that very moment because you were standing at the foyer when Jay came walking in through the open front door. He was dressed in his blue uniform with a scowl on his face. Yeah, breaking up high school parties was not the fun part of his job. His eyes immediately landed on you and his scowl increasingly became worse with every step he took toward you.

“Damn it.” You heaved a sigh once Jay came to a stop in front of you.

“What do you think you’re doing at a party this late?” Jay crossed his arms over his chest.

“It’s not like I was doing anything bad, Jay.” You rolled your eyes.

“Uh huh, go outside and wait by the car.” Jay nodded unconvinced and gestured his head toward the patrol car sitting out front. He knew you hadn’t done anything besides sneaking out, but this was just how he was.

“Fine.” You reluctantly agreed with a groan.

Being busted was never fun, that’s for sure. Even more so when Jay had to drive around in a patrol car rather than his usual truck. That meant he would have to drive you back home in the back of said patrol car like some kind of criminal. Which you were definitely not, just so we can be clear.

You slowly walked down the front lawn toward the patrol car with a frown etched onto your features. You stood next to it with your arms crossed waiting for Jay to come back from checking over the entire property with Hailey. Oh, I forgot to mention that your favorite blonde that you looked up to just so happened to be partnered up with your brother for this overtime shift. As if disappointed looks from Jay weren’t enough you’d have to get sympathetic looks from Hailey who saw your brother’s wrath dealing with suspects daily.

Eventually, Jay and Hailey both came out with blank looks on their faces making it hard for you to tell if Jay was pissed off or only slightly angry with your decision to attend this party. Jay silently opened the back door and gestured inside with a small smirk adorning his face.

“After you.” Jay waved his arm.

“Yeah, thanks.” You nodded sarcastically before sliding into the back seat of the car.

Jay and Hailey got back into their respective seats as you furrowed your brows at the view from the back seat.

“This just feels wrong.” You stared through the grate with your nose scrunched up.

“Good to know that you’ll do your best to stay out of the back of these cars.” Jay smiled sarcastically.

“I’ll only make it my life’s work.” You raised your brows in amusement.

“Enough you two with the sarcastic comments.” Hailey sighed with a small smile.

“Your boyfriend started it, not me. You’re my key witness.” You raised your arms in mock surrender, looking at Hailey.

Jay scoffed with a shake of his head in response. Soon enough he had pulled up to your apartment building and opened the back door for you to get out.

“I better not see your ass at another party without telling me first, all right?” Jay looked pointedly at you.

“You won’t, I promise. It wasn’t even that fun anyway if it makes you feel any better.” You said with pursed lips.

“It does actually, I texted Will he’s coming over with a very late dinner after his shift.” Jay nodded his head as the two of you walked up the stairs to your apartment.

“You’re seriously making him babysit me?” You questioned with furrowed brows.

“Hey, at least he’s bringing the two of you dinner.” Jay argued while unlocking the door and letting you go in first.

“Fair enough.” You nodded with a sigh.

“Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone, I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” Jay leaned down and placed a kiss on the top of your head.

“All right, bye. Love you.” You shook your head with a small smile.

“Love you too, Pipsqueak.” Jay waved with a wide smirk before he headed back out the door.

You couldn’t even get a word in before the door shut and you let out a scoff at the less than favorable nickname he still insisted on using. Big brothers, what can I say? Annoying as hell, but you love them anyway.

[taetaesbaebaepsae]

What You're Looking For (myg)

Summary: Yoongi's definitely falling in love with you, but he's hesitant to tell you because as an idol, he can't give you what you're looking for.

Warnings: public sex, some possessive behavior, vaginal fingering, little bit of degradation

Word Count: 3633

A/n: A Yoongi commission, hope you enjoy!

Being an idol isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Sure, the money is nice, he doesn’t have to worry about bus fare or how he’s going to eat each week. He can write songs anytime he wants to, has use of all this impressive equipment that his pre-debut self would have lost his mind over. The fame, on the other hand, is something that Yoongi struggles with.

He can’t exactly leave his apartment and go to the store for ramen and beer anymore. He can’t exactly walk to the bus station and go down to the park, feed the birds like he used to. He also can’t take anyone out on a date, which pre-debut Yoongi would have never dreamed of doing, anyway.

But now he’s on the wrong side of his 20’s and actually dating is something he wants to do and can’t, not just because of his fame but also because of contracts. It isn’t as if their manager had sat them down and said absolutely no dating, but it’s certainly implied. Their schedules are tight enough that there’s only a few hours of free time per week, and that’s not on accident, Yoongi knows.

Pre-debut Yoongi had been so focused on music, so focused on making it that now, once he’s made it, he longs for something more simple. Writing lyrics on bar napkins while chatting up a girl, for one. Taking someone out on a dinner date to that diner he likes by his apartment. He imagines that he might take her hand while they walk there, swing it back and forth, make her smile.

He does, in fact, meet you while he’s scribbling song lyrics on a bar napkin, but instead of taking you out on a date, he has to sneak you back to his apartment in a black car, pulling his cap over his face. You know who he is, he knows that much by the blush on your cheeks, but you keep insisting you don’t know much about kpop and he believes you.

Yoongi blames the soju for how he kisses you in the elevator, aggressively, backing you up against the door, but you lean into him, make this little sound into his mouth and the next thing he knows he’s waking up with your bare arm across his waist and he’s panicking because he’s got practice in less than an hour.

“Fuck,” he curses softly when he extricates himself, because you look so pretty and peaceful and he’s got to wake you up and usher you out like some kind of dirty little secret and it makes his heart clench in his chest.

He calls your name, softly, and when you stretch he can see that tattoo on your stomach, the one he'd traced with his fingers last night, and then his tongue.

Yoongi knows he's blushing, can feel the heat in his face, so he turns his face away.

"Um," he starts, and then he hears the sheets shuffle.

"Oh! Sorry, I should go." Your voice sounds husky from sleep and Yoongi almost reaches out to grab your wrist as you pick up your dress from the floor.

He doesn't, and you go with an awkward peck on his cheekbone that he swears he can feel on his skin for days.

Things go on like that, for the weeks he's on break and after, through texts and Facetime calls, for months. It's always rushed and sexy and he always has to go before he wants to, and he hates it.

He finds that the girl he'd thought about taking on dates and holding hands with seems to now have your face, after a while. All his fantasies, sexual and otherwise, start to involve your smile.

Pre-debut Yoongi only fantasized about music, about standing on a stage belting out his truths, cutting pieces of himself to bleed onto paper so that someone would see him, finally, so that someone would know him.

Pre-debut Yoongi would have scoffed at him for wanting only one person to know him, one person to see him.

Pre-debut Yoongi would have called him an idiot, for falling in love.

You never imagined yourself in a situationship with an internationally famous rapper, despite the fact that you weren't overly familiar with his work when you'd met.

You certainly can't call it dating, since it culminates in having a few drinks and hooking up at his apartment or, during one particularly hazy night, in the backseat of a hired Escalade.

He's often out of the country, and on occasion he'll call you in the middle of the day, which is the middle of the night for him, ask you how you are, and eventually, what you're wearing.

You're trying not to look too far into it, not read into how soft his voice sounds when you Facetime and he tells you how beautiful you look, not think there might be something more in the way he wraps you in his arms after sex, plants soft kisses on the back of your neck.

It's fun, it's casual, and there's no reason to need more.

There are other guys that you've had similar situations with, and this is no different.

Maybe it's Yoongi's face that floats in front of your eyes when you're just about to fall asleep, but he doesn't have to know that.

You find yourself stopping yourself from texting him first, and you tell yourself it’s because he’s so busy but you know it’s because you feel too much.

You know his schedule, he emails it to you once a month, and while that seems like a good sign it isn’t as if after months of hooking up, you’ve ever had a conversation about where your relationship stands.

So, one Friday night, you know he’s in town and you know he’s free and when he doesn’t text or call, it feels like bees are buzzing under your skin.

Instead of staring at your phone in an effort to will it to ring, you call a friend and plan a girl’s night out. That’s what you need, anyway, a night where you can drink with your friends and flirt with men you’ll never see again.

You don’t need Yoongi’s low mumble in your ear, making you feel like you’re the only woman in the world.

Yoongi tells himself he doesn’t spend every moment of his free time with you, but he definitely does spend the majority of it at least thinking about you. The way your skin feels under his hands, the slow tilt of your crooked smile. The way sometimes you snort when you laugh too hard and you’re not even ashamed about it.

He babbles all of this out to Jimin and the younger just raises an eyebrow at him.

“Hyung, you have a girlfriend?”

Yoongi feels his face flushing. “N-no. She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Hm. Okay, hyung.” Jimin says dryly, and Yoongi shoves him playfully with the heel of his hand.

“You going out tonight?” Yoongi asks, suddenly, and immediately regrets it when Jimin’s eyes light up.

“Are you gonna come with me this time?” Jimin bounces on the couch excitedly and Yoongi groans.

So that’s how, between the need to stop sitting at home and daydreaming about you and Yoongi’s inability to say no to Park Jimin’s pout, Yoongi ends up at a club.

A loud club. A crowded club.

He orders a whiskey at the bar, people shouldering up against him to order as well and God why did he do this, anyway?

Jimin disappears somewhere within half an hour and he’s stuck looking around the bar for him awkwardly.

Yoongi recognizes you by the line of your jaw, and it’s a rush, the pleasure that shoots through him, the butterflies in his stomach, better than the glass of whiskey he’s been sipping.

You don’t see him, and he wonders if he should go up behind you, plant a kiss on your shoulder, but in the end he doesn’t wade through the sea of people, just watches you sway to the beat, talking and laughing with your friends. It’s interesting, seeing you out and about like this, somewhere he doesn’t have to hide you, and longing spears through him because as much as he hates clubs, he’d like to take you to one, see the way your body moves to the music, how your eyes light up when you laugh.

As he’s watching, entranced, a man puts his hand on your hip, stands from the bar, and Yoongi’s hands grasp the bar hard enough to whiten his knuckles. He’d never considered himself a jealous person, had never been so in past relationships, but there’s this little ball of something vile in his stomach and it isn’t just the whiskey.

He knocks the rest of his drink back, orders another, tries to focus on the bartender but he can see you in his peripheral vision and when you move he turns his head to follow you as the man leads you out onto the dance floor.

It occurs to him that he’d never had a conversation with you about exclusivity. He hasn’t seen anyone else since he’d met you, but he’d been gone more than he’d been with you and maybe you were seeing someone else. Maybe it was this guy, with his hand on your hip so familiar.

Yoongi doesn’t feel angry, exactly, but there’s a rock in his gut and his throat seems to have closed to a pinhole when he takes a gulp of his new drink, watching you dance.

You sway your hips slow, as if moving to a beat in your head instead of the music, and Yoongi would smile if he felt physically able to do so, watching the man behind you with both hands on your hips now, fingers splayed out.

Yoongi has this awful image, wonders if you’d let him put his hands on your hips like that somewhere more private, and he finishes his second drink too quickly, slams it down on the bar. The bartender blinks at him and Yoongi mutters out an apology, orders another.

Three drinks were his usual limit in crowded places like this, throughout the night, and now that he’s downed them within a couple of hours, things are a bit fuzzy around the edges. He tells himself he should stay seated, wait for the alcohol to hit his system, but he’s up and walking toward you on the dance floor before he can talk himself into staying on the bar stool. He’s only unsteady for a moment, a lifetime of enjoying alcohol has given him a good tolerance that he’s grateful for tonight.

Your eyes widen when you see him, a ghost of a smile playing along your lips.

“Can I cut in?” Yoongi asks, and it seems like a stupid, formal thing to say at a club that was blasting hip hop, but it makes you smile wider.

Yoongi doesn’t even look at the man, doesn’t hear his mumbled response, just replaces his hands on your hip with his own.

“That your boyfriend?” He knows he sounds like a petulant child but you laugh and it lessens the tightness in his throat.

“Mm, no. I don’t have a boyfriend.” You answer, coyly, wrapping your arms around his neck and swaying to the music.

“That so?” Yoongi leans down, presses his mouth to your collarbone. He wants to suck a mark there but he resists. “Do you want one?” He mumbles it against your skin and you make a sound in the back of your throat.

He can’t hear your response, can’t touch you like he wants so he takes your hand and you follow him without a word.

When he pushes the door to the men’s room you tug on his arm, though.

He looks back at you and you scrunch your nose and pull him into the women's bathroom instead.

"There's an etiquette to hooking up at a club, Yoongi."

He laughs and finally that knot in his stomach loosens. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. The women's room is cleaner."

You beckon him into a stall, locking the door before backing him against it, kissing him hard, nipping at his bottom lip.

He moans into your mouth, it's been weeks since he'd been able to kiss you, touch you, and he's enjoying it until a flash of memory of that other guy's hands on your hips, fingers splayed, pops into his mind.

He calls your name, softly, and you pull away to look at him, this little pout on your mouth that he has to resist kissing.

"Are you seeing anyone else?"

You'd been fiddling with the buttons on his shirt but you freeze at his question.

"Not really," you reply, and the air feels thin suddenly and Yoongi trails the fingers of his right hand along your spine.

“That’s not really an answer,” Yoongi retorts, and his ears feel hot.

You only smirk, unbutton part of his shirt so that you can slide your hand inside to feel his skin.

“You jealous, Yoongi?”

He scoffs, and then his breath hitches when you place your palm on his bare chest. He pulls you closer by your waist and you lean into him.

“You’re jealous,” you say confidently, moving your hands to unbutton his slacks, and Yoongi’s mouth goes dry.

“I am,” he admits, feeling flushed all over.

“Why’s that? Territorial?”

Yoongi thinks it’s unfair of you to be asking things like this when he’s tipsy and horny, half hard from your kisses and your hands on his skin, but he puffs out his cheeks and lets out a breath through his nostrils and answers anyway.

“No,” he manages, it’s a croak because you’ve slipped your hand into his slacks and underwear, pressing your palm against his cock.

“Hmm. Well in that case, I got asked out tonight, think I should give him a call?”

“No,” he says again, empathically, taking your wrists and moving his body to pin you against the side of the stall instead of allowing you to pin him.

Your breath catches, your eyes dark with lust when you look at him.

“Why not?”

You want him to say it, Yoongi knows you well enough for that, has spent months learning all about who you are, he knows that much, but it’s hard to spit it out, especially like this, in a club bathroom stall with music booming overhead, muffled slightly by the bathroom walls.

Instead, he kisses you, hard, moves his hips against yours, shows you how hard you’ve made him and you whine into his mouth, clutch at the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Want you,” he murmurs, and it isn’t an answer but it’s closer than silence and it’s as close as he can get right now.

“I know you want me,” you breathe, something exasperated in your tone.

Yoongi doesn’t have a condom, had no plans on coming out to meet anyone, and bemoans as much to you.

When you rummage around in your purse and pull one out, smirking, then he is mad, even though he’s not sure he has any right to be upset.

“So you came out to get laid tonight?” His voice is calmer than he’d expected with how his heart is pounding.

You shrug. “So what if I did?”

“You’re lucky I was here,” Yoongi says darkly, and your smirk only widens.

You don’t move a muscle, just tilt your chin up at him. “Why is that?”

Yoongi bunches your dress around your hips, roughly pushes your thong aside so that he can cup your pussy. He slides two fingers inside when you spread your thighs, moaning loudly.

He doesn’t respond to your question, kissing along the side of your throat and nipping at your earlobe instead.

“You’re lucky,” he murmurs, “because no one can fuck you like I do.”

You shiver, goosebumps breaking out on your skin, and he kisses your throat again, sucking and biting there to make a mark. You’re loud, rocking your hips against his hand.

“I bet everyone can hear you moaning like a whore for me,” he whispers into the shell of your ear.

“Yoongi,” you rasp, trembling.

“Hmm?”

He can’t deny it’s a rush, the way you’re shaking, desperate for him, all but begging him to fuck you. He always feels so out of control with you, the way you make him feel, the longing in the pit of his stomach, the way he’d follow you to hell if you’d asked him. He knows how easily you could break him, and he’s afraid of it but he keeps chasing you anyway. It’s nice to see that he can have some manner of control over you, too.

“Please,” you plead, and he pulls away from your throat, wonders about the logistics of fucking in a bathroom stall. It certainly wasn’t his normal scene, but he figures it out, wrapping your legs around his waist, lifting your ass to press you against the wall. Applying the condom is the awkward part but you’re panting, clutching at his shirt, kissing along his neck and he manages.

Your hands move between you, guiding his cock into you and he groans so low in his throat that it almost hurts.

“Always so wet for me,” he says into your ear, and you buck your hips, almost unseating yourself until he rights you with his hands on your hips.

“Fuck,” you curse almost mournfully and he can’t help but chuckle as he starts to roll his hips up into you, the angle making him spear into you deeper than he ever had before. All of your hookups had been quick but none against the wall. Yoongi thinks he likes it, loves the way you look with your dress bunched up, your tits heaving against his chest, makeup sweating off.

“Look at you,” he groans. “You’re so desperate for it, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you agree in a short breath. “Yes, yes, please make me come, Yoongi.”

Your dirty talk makes his balls draw up and he thinks it might be over before you do but that’s okay, he’s good with his hands and his fingers.

Then you tug on his hair, your teeth gritted. “Harder,” you demand, and Yoongi’s eyes widen.

It’s quick after that, he’s fucking you hard and fast against the door, your ass sliding up and down with a squeaking sound.

He’s close and he lets his mouth run away with him, your cunt clenching around him.

“I want you to be mine,” he gasps. “Not just your body.”

“Yoongi, I’m coming, I’m coming, don’t stop,” you whine, and he isn’t sure you’re listening. Part of him hopes you aren’t, because if you don’t feel the same way he doesn’t want to know, at least not yet.

And then, just as he spills inside you, it comes bursting out of him like a dam has crumbled.

“Y/n, I’m falling in love with you.”

You kiss him, then, taking his face in your hands, your tongue sliding against his and he keeps rolling his hips into yours as you pulse around him.

It’s thirty seconds before he starts to come down, and a full minute before the horror of what he’s said starts to descend upon him.

Lowering you to the ground is more awkward than it should be since he has to pull out of you first, but you giggle when he puts you down on the floor, stumbling a little on shaky legs.

After you each adjust your clothes, you open your mouth to speak. “Yoongi-”

“Don’t,” he pleads. “Please don’t say anything.”

You frown, little wrinkles appearing between your eyes. He wants to kiss them.

“But-”

“Jagiya, please,” he all but begs, and he’s never called you a pet name but it slips out and he wants to disappear through the floor.

“Yoongi.” You say, fiercely. “Stop it.”

Yoongi groans, covering his face with his hands.

“I want to be yours, too.”

He peeks at you from between his fingers, his face flushed.

“You do?”

“I do.” You’re smiling, widely, and he’s not sure he’s ever seen you smile like that. It makes his heart soar.

“What about that guy?” He knows he’s pouting so he doesn’t fully uncover his face.

You laugh. “What guy? He just asked me to dance.”

Yoongi drops his hands from his face. “You...you made me think…”

You shrug. “Well, I didn’t know what you wanted from me. I had no idea you had feelings for me.”

“I’m in love with you,” Yoongi says incredulously. “I’m crazy about you. I’ve been crazy about you forever.”

“You didn’t tell me that!” You insist.

Yoongi laughs, loud and open, his heart feeling lighter, but it’s a short reprieve. His face falls.

“I’m just...I’m gone so often. I can’t give you what you want, what you’re looking for-”

You silence him by kissing him, just a peck on the lips. “Yoongi, you’re what I’ve been looking for my whole life.”

That rush is back, the fluttering in his chest and his stomach that he’s come to associate with you.

“Yeah?” It’s stupid, but it’s the only thing he can think of to say, looking down into your eyes and he’s sure he’s got the goofiest grin on his face.

But you grin back and it makes him feel better.

“Yeah.”

He still doesn’t get as much time with you as he likes and sometimes he still worries that you might meet someone else while he’s away, but you call him every night that you can, facetime him, and he keeps the butterflies, keeps the rush that reminds him of you, even when he’s busy making music or onstage.

You're always happy to reassure him that you've found what you're looking for, and you don't need anything more.

[stressy-enby]

hello!! I saw your equestrian x iida fanfic and thought it was super cute!! could you possibly do one with someone who is into theater?

YES.

I'll let you in on a little secret: I'm a theater kid, and have been for the past four years. I had so much fun with this asifaiosdfoaisfioi

Warnings: swearing

Masterlist

. . .

Unfortunately for you, UA does not have a theater program. Big sad

However, your community theater puts on teen casted shows once or twice a year

Between your school work, training, and you three rehearsals per week, you're often too tired to do much of anything else

It would be a lie to say you don't talk much about theater, you're constantly bringing funny rehearsal stories to your friends

It only gets worse in the month leading up to opening night

Who else has been either yelled at or witness someone else being yelled at by your director because you're "(insert time here) away from opening night and you don't know your lines-"?

Because if not, then you should know that the only thing worse than that is your director threatening to cut people for not knowing their choreography

It's sucks so bad

Anyway

After rehearsal, you're stressed and nervous because you're not 100% confident on your lines

You figure it can't hurt to have someone help you, so you text Iida, who's seemed the most interested in your theater endeavors

He agrees to help you run lines, and it's probably the best practice you ever had

We've all seen Iida get really into character in villain and hero roles in training, he'd make a fantastic scene partner

His commitment to a character he's not even all that familiar with and will never actually play is incredibly endearing and adorable

He even sits in as you run through a song, and he's just watching you with heart eyes 😍

Before leaving, he asks you when opening night is, and promises to be there

And there he is

Opening night rolls around, and you risk a peak from behind the curtains when the stage manager isn't looking

Holy shit

He brought the whole damn class

There's class 1-A, first row, center of the auditorium

How the hell did they snag all those seats? They must've been there even before the doors opened

Your eyes skip over your friends and peers, watching them flip through shared playbills and chat quietly

Your gaze is drawn to Iida, who's leaning closer to Midoriya at his side to read his playbill

Your heart leaps when you see the bouquet of various colorful flowers lying in his lap

Oh how you hope those are for you. You sincerely doubt they could be for anyone else, who else in the show would he know?

You pull away from the curtain before the stage manager can yell at you, shaking yourself out of your stupor

No time for feelings, you have a show to do, damnit

Iida's anxiously waiting for the curtains to open. He's read the playbill front to back multiple times, lingering specifically over your headshot and bio

No one in class was surprised when he brought the flowers. There were a few knowing smirks, and Uraraka even wiggled her eyebrows suggestively when she saw them

He bounced his leg with an unfamiliar pent up energy until your director's voice came over the speakers, reminding people to silence phones, no flash photography, the works

No matter what role you play, Iida thinks you're radient

Ensemble? You carried the whole team! Supporting character? You stole the show! Lead role? Oh boy, did he die and go to heaven, cause you killed it.

Your eyes seem to meet his every single time you're on stage. You can't help it. He's magnetic

After the show, as you take your bow, you almost tear up at the sight of your classmates cheering for you. Of Iida cheering for you

You and your castmates flow from the backstage like it's a broken dam and mingle with their friends and family in the audience

You make a beeline for the front row, stumbling back as Uraraka and Ashido hug you tightly, babbling about how amazing you were

You chat excitedly with your friends, heat rising in your cheeks at every compliment and every glowing review

Iida hangs back, watching you with a smile that can only be described as loving. Your heart leaps up into your throat at the sight of it

You're eyes are drawn once again to the flowers he's clutching tightly. You turn to Midoriya and ask him to tell Iida that you'll talk to him after you get un mic'd

You fumble with the wire and mic tape as you make your way to the sound booth, glancing back at Iida nearly the whole way back, making you almost run into quite a few people

When you return, most of your class has already gone outside to wait

It's just you and Iida, and the few remaining classmates lingering with expecting smiles

"Hey, you. Thanks for bringing everyone out." You smile softly at Iida, as you finally stop in front of him.

"Of course. You worked so hard, it'd be a shame if we couldn't all see it." He held the bouquet out to you, hand shaking so slightly you nearly missed it. "And you were easily the best part of it all."

You laugh, taking the flowers. "I don't know about that, did you see Omaki's weird faces? Funniest person ever. They carried all the comedy, honestly."

"They were quite good," Iida admitted. "But I still think you were the best part. You have a commanding stage presence. I couldn't take my eyes off you."

All the blood seemed to go straight to your face at the blunt confession. "You sure that's not just a you thing?" You tease.

He chuckles, his own face lighting up. "It may very well be."

[bookofmirth]

ok so this might come off as a bit rambly so please bear with me lol

i've noticed that the acotar fandom has this incessant need to be right when it comes to canon and it really sucks out the funness of fandom. shipping is supposed to be fun but when it comes to this fandom, it's almost like a competition to see who will be more right when the books come out. engaging with theories/predictions about characters and the plot is supposed to be exciting but when it comes to this fandom, some of the theories/predictions are problematic at worst and nonsensical at best. like how can you say with your full chest that you're so confident about where the series is heading in the future because of this or that theory when you're stuck in the past and refuse to see what all of the text is telling you in the present. it doesn't make sense. the selective reading is so strong that it has me looking sideways sometimes lol

i guess my question is why do you think the fandom is so divided when it comes to ships right now? i've seen people say this wasn't the case for feysand and nessian, so what's the difference here?

Oh boy Brielle, I have some thoughts on this. It's complex.

To be clear, I am not saying that this applies to literally every single person who ships a certain way. This is a commentary on the fandom as a whole, and there are always exceptions.

This got really, really long, so I'm putting it under the cut.

I think that one of the main draws of this series, and of sjm's writing in general, is her ships. I think that people get very, very attached to their ships.

I also think that sjm does NOT fully think through some of the choices that she makes when writing. See: the way that she takes from all these different cultures and mashes them together, which could be seen as disrespectful of their origin. She has retconned things, like Mor being queer and Lucien being Helion's son. I think that she thoroughly thinks about some of the aspects of her books, like Rhys's reaction to sleeping with Feyre for the first time, but then really half-asses other aspects of her books, like Mor coming out.

Then, we have your good old misogyny and homophobia - people in the fandom don't like Mor because she hurt the poor bat boy's feelings when she didn't sleep with him, and they don't have a mating bond, but she's never really told Azriel "no", and so every single moment of pain that Azriel has felt in 500 years is Morrigan's fault. And Mor's experience as a closeted queer woman who feels unsafe around the people she should trust the most is completely disregarded by the fandom.

Finally, I think that a combination of these factors has created the monster we know as e*riel, and that the fandom is perpetuating its own mythology.

What all of this comes down to, and the real reason I think that the fandom is behaving this way right now, is that e*riel is dead. It's never happened, it's not going to happen, but because we don't have the clear closure we got with moriel (where people would be accused of homophobia for continuing to ship it), people are still trying to figure out any possible way for e*riel to become canon, though every single sign points to it being a non-issue.

This weird thing where people have to be "right" all the time, and the way that "right" = "canon" is a relatively new development. It's as if everyone in this fandom forgot that they are in fact in a fandom, which inherently diverges from canon.

However, I think that the need to cling to canon is because the alternative would be to admit defeat and say "well, even if it doesn't happen I will still ship e*riel, it's fine, I will live with that." But they don't want to do that. In response, they look at canon so hard that they are reading the white space between the letters to create their theories, which as you noted as largely nonsensical and often fail to take into account who the characters are as individuals, how they are connected to other characters, and why it would or wouldn't be appropriate for them to be involved in various plots.

People could say, as eluciens having been saying since day one, "I really ship this thing but I can see that it might not become canon". But they don't say that. They literally refuse to see any other possibility than e*riel becoming canon.

You pointed out that people are stuck in the past - absolutely. The number of reimaginings I have seen of scenes where either Azriel or Elain has literally zero to do with the scene, but people try to shove one or both of them in there. And this from books ago. People are stuck on the Truthteller scene, and refuse to acknowledge that neither of them have acted on their feelings, whatever those might be, for years. And they ignore the fact that once Elain and Az do act, it goes horribly wrong.

Here are the facts as of right now:

ACOSF is the most recent book. In that book, sans extra chapter, those two had no interaction other than looking at one another.

If we include his POV, then he said it was wrong, we got confirmation that nothing has ever happened between them, she returned his necklace. Elain was aroused, but that does not mean she was ready to even have sex. "Yes" to a kiss is not "yes" to every single sexual act Az can think of. They parted on awkward, bad terms after a scene in which it seemed like they were about to start something. Yikes. Unlike Wings and Embers, they did not end that chapter still thinking of one another. After they part ways, the omniscient narrator does not mention Elain, or Az thinking about Elain, again.

His POV occurs months before the end of the book. They do not interact after that.

Elain has a mate she has not rejected, nor accepted.

So anyway, your question was why are people like this. lol. I think the fandom created a monster, and that monster is clinging to life. It can't accept the idea of morphing into a non-canon ship, though it never was canon in the first place. It had just convinced itself that it was.

There are other aspects to this, that have to do with gwynriel and elucien.

Gwynriel is a new ship, it's almost guaranteed to happen, people are super excited to ship it and give Gwyn all their love. I'm sure they would rather create content for that ship than argue about whether or not it's going to be canon, but they are in constant defense mode. Some people honestly didn't like e*riel before because they don't like Elain, or because they don't like Azriel, and those are valid reasons for not liking it. Why people ship gwynriel doesn't matter. The tone of the discussion is, unfortunately, being shaped elsewhere, which I will mention below.

Elucien is an old ship, older than e*riel. I can speak from this perspective - personally, I have been holding my tongue for 4.5 years. I have been letting people live, and just talking about the things I like. Then when acosf came out, it was like I could finally say all the things I had been thinking about Azriel, because I now had proof that the things I thought about his character (and because of that, about e*riel) now had solid canon foundation. This is 4.5 years of me holding in a lot of shit and finally being able to say it. Sometimes yes, I might take joy in having been right.

I think that a few people are clinging to canon, and that sets the tone for the discourse in the fandom. Someone says "according to page whatever, blah blah blah" and people feel the need to respond, and then it turns into and "I'm right" contest instead of... a fandom... A lot of us like debating. To me, it's fun. But when Person A starts a conversation that's about canon and it actually ignores canon, it's hard to let that conversation go by and just keep creating whatever we want to create. Instead, we respond, and so the tone of the conversation is shaped by what Person A decided to say.

I also think that there is a lack of distinction between theories (what will happen in the future) and meta (analysis of what we have now).

There is also a lack of "I" statements. Opinions are being stated as fact.

idk if there is a way to make it better, other than to just go back to ignoring one another. This whole situation makes me want to throw out every single canon ship I like and create exclusively non-canon content, just for spite. Except I really like doing meta, and so I don't want to. I guess for my point, I'll just keep doing meta, keep creating different content, and keep reminding people that they aren't here to continue perpetuating canon, but to play with it.

[love-amihan]

| ʜᴏᴍᴇ | ᴊᴊᴋ | ᴀᴏᴛ | ʜǫ | ꜰɪʟᴏ | ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛs | ᴍɪᴍɪ |

TO THE MOON AND BACK // TETSUROU KUROO

word count: 1.3k+

song used: i see the light by mandy moore, zachary levi

amihan’s note: big brain time, this is kinda connected with the kenma fic, it's not really a necessity to this fic but yeah thought i would connect the two and two together, happy reading!

masterlist: 300 milestone

kuroo + high school sweethearts + "here’s my jacket"

long-time boyfriend!kuroo x fem!reader

“how did you two meet?” lev asks in curiosity, leaning on his palms while looking at the two of you.

the group groans in chorus, “what?” the tall first-year asks, “did i say something wrong?” he innocently asks.

“you’ve already opened the topic,” morisuke says while pinching his side, kuroo smiles widely and puts his arm around you, pulling you closer to him.

you hide your face behind your hands and groan loudly. “why do you have to ask lev?” you say while cringing on the inside.

“oh come on, it’s a fairy tale like story. you we’re my damsel in distress, my queen” he emphasizes the endearment with a teasing tone.

he brings up his free hand gesturing to nothingness, “tangled got nothing on us,” he says with all confidence and looks back at their tall middle blocker.

“once upon a time,” he baby talks, you push kuroo’s face away.

“stop that,” you grumble, heat comes rushing up your face. kuroo chuckles and rests his arm around you, obliging your request.

“okay, this is how i met y/n. you better listen closely or else you’ll miss something important” he says while pointing at lev, who in return, nods enthusiastically.

“say, would you be interested in going on a blind date? i know this girl,” morisuke offers with a soft smile. kuroo takes a sharp breath, “oh, i don’t know. kinda busy with being a good captain,” he says with a shrug which earn him a smack at the back of his head.

morisuke rolls his eyes and turns on his heel, “be ready tomorrow, i’ll text you the time and place” with that said, the libero leaves the middle blocker and doesn't wait for an answer.

“hey, isn’t that illegal?! i haven’t given you my consent!” kuroo shouts after him.

“what are you saying, yakkun?!” kuroo exclaims on his phone, “i said i’ll give you the time and place, i didn’t say anything about setting all of it for you,” he nonchalantly replies.

“what do i do then-” kuroo's complaints get interrupted by a tap on his shoulder.

he turns around and sees you, “am i late?” you sheepishly smile at him. one thing kuroo hates more than anything is when people don’t show up on time but i guess, for you he can work on that.

you slightly tilt your head to the side, kuroo who still has his phone pressed against his ear is staring at you with his mouth agape.

“if you’re not gonna answer, i’ll be hang-�� before morisuke could push the red button, kuroo beats him to it.

the raven-haired clears his throat and shove his phone inside his pockets, “yeah, no. just in time, you ready?” his charming smile greeting you, “i see,” you sigh in relief. “may i?” he offers a hand which you gladly accept.

kuroo leads the way, hands intertwined with yours. “where are you taking me, uhhh… uhm,” you halt your steps and furrow your brows in concentration, eyes focused on him. “kuroo, tetsurou kuroo” he fills in for you.

“kuroo-san,” you say while nodding, “kuroo’s alright and i’m taking the lovely lady somewhere around here. it’s a surprise, you’ll have to find out later,” his smiles cheekily while winking at you.

morisuke might have not set up a place for your date but he knows this one location he loves the most. it might be a risky move to bring someone he’s only met once but his guts tells him otherwise.

a small gasp comes past your lips, the view is beautiful.

“before i continue the story, i gotta say. i’m such an innovative genius,” kuroo boasts. you nudge his shoulder a little, “just continue the story, nerd” kuroo pouts at your statement.

the first date happened by the side of the lake, kind of recreating the tangled lake scene except it’s daylight and there’s no lantern nor were you two on a boat. “do you like it?” his voice trembles slightly.

“how do you know this place?” your gaze fleeting from his eyes and back to the view, in awe of its beauty. kuroo lets out a deep breath and walks beside you, “i consider this my escape place.”

your head snaps in his direction, “you trust me to know this place?... in our first date?!” you look at him with wide eyes.

kuroo shrugs, “are you saying there’s gonna be a second?” he kicks a random pebble, his lips spreading to a playful smile.

he looks at you in the eyes with a brow raised, you break eye-contact, your face heating up. “so… escape place huh?” you try to subtly change the subject, he hums, having fun seeing you flustered.

the date went great, you got to know him better. he’s a sweet guy despite the rumors surrounding him overall a laid-back person.

kuroo holds up a finger, smiling ear to ear, he’s enjoying your company as much as you enjoy his. he’s about to utter his words when big drops of water land on the top of his head.

“oh you gotta be kidding me,” he mutters under his breath. the rain starts pouring down on the two of you, “it really has to be right at this moment?” you giggle at his words while he takes off his jacket.

“here’s my jacket,” he says while standing up. after you put on his jacket and wear the hood, he takes your hand in his, “are you a runner?” you shake your head to him, “sadly, i’m not.”

“how about dancing?” he reaches out for your other hand, “what? kuroo…” he rests both your hands around his neck and smiles down at you, his hands making their way to your hips.

he clears his throat before singing, “all those days,” his eyes finding yours, deep soothing voice filling your ears. “chasing down a daydream,” his voice lingering, bringing a hand up to cradle your face.

both your hips sways side to side as his voice sets the pace, the rain pouring down on the two of you. “all those years,” his thumb gently caressing your cheek.

the golden-like light shining down on you, perfectly framing your features, “living in a blur” you close your eyes leaning to his warm touch.

“i gotta say, you’re lucky to have your own flynn rider,” kuroo smugly claims. you scoff and roll your eyes at him, “if anything, you’re more of a maximus than flynn.” your boyfriend gasps at you and looks genuinely hurt by your statement.

“also, i can’t believe you gave me your jacket and decide to get us drenching wet from the rain,” you say while looking him in the eyes, “yeah that was pretty dumb, not gonna lie,” kenma mumbles while playing with his handheld game console.

“it was not! it’s very sweet and that wasn’t what you said when we were having our disney moment,” kuroo faces you, the arm around your shoulder is now pointing at you. “yeah because i don’t wanna be rude.”

as the two of you have your mini banter, kai turns to morisuke, “maximus has a better personality than flynn though… right?” the libero chuckles, “let him be, flynn does perfectly portray that tall bastard anyway.”

your mini argument is temporarily cut off by your sneeze, kuroo sighs, “you forgot your jacket again?” you shake your head, too stubborn to admit. “i’m okay, as i’m saying, you’re maxi-” he shrugs off his jacket and drapes it around your shoulder.

“wear it then we can continue,” he says while looking at you sternly, you begrudgingly wear the jacket and cross your arms while huffing.

“is this normal?” lev who’s watching the scene unfold, asks the group, they all nod in sync, not batting an eye at the couple.

as lev turns to look back at the couple, he can’t believe how you were just having a mini banter not moments ago and now you're all over each other.

“love you,” you mutter, snuggling closer to his side, “and i love you... to the moon and back,” he replies, leaving a kiss on top of your head.

-to embrace hs sweethearts

you take kuroo's hand as he leads you in the center of the dance floor, the music changing to a slower song, the instrumentals familiar to your ears.

kuroo takes the mic that's given to him and smiles at you, looking deeply into your eyes. "all those days," his beautiful voice can be heard by everyone.

your eyes soften looking back with the same overflowing love, "i love you," you mouth to him as he continues, "watching from the windows."

soon, rain special effects start pouring down just outside where you and him won't get wet, "you even got the rain effect?" you gasp, mouth agape. he nods, lyrics continue to flow past his lips.

copyright © 2021 by love-amihan all rights reserved. do not repost in other platforms. reblogs are welcome and highly appreciated! <33

taglist: @arrianao @tendo-sxtori @milkteeboba @lumpiang-toge @chibishae34 @emeraldscloud @tohman @kirakirasaku @sushi-guro @duhsies @foxxtrot-116 @gay-bitch23 @crybabyjabby

[touyasdoll]

Complicated - Chapter Two

Chapter One: Here

Pairing: Dabi/Touya Todoroki x reader

Warnings: self-degradation/self-doubt

Word count: 2.2k

A/n: Gonna rework this and ditch the first person POV, jsyk.

A/n pt. 2: This story does contain spoilers for the show/manga. The dates/ages of characters are going to be shifted around a bit.

------------------

It's been two days. Is he gonna call? Text? Completely forget I exist?

I sigh, trying to expel the anxiety balled up in the pit of my stomach.

Why would he call? We talked for, what, five minutes? He seemed older too. You were in your damn school uniform, idiot. He's obviously got more important shit to do than chat up a schoolgirl who can't mind her own fucking business.

"Ugh," I groan to no one but myself in my apartment. "I'm really just the biggest fucking jackass, aren't I?"

Flopping down on my bed, I let out another weighty sigh and bury my face in the plethora of pillows piled beneath me.

Relax. Maybe he'll text. Maybe he won't. And if he doesn't he's just sparing you the embarrassment that you would inevitably bring upon yourself.

A yawn escapes my lips as I feel a wave of drowsiness wash over me. Glancing at the clock, I could see it was hardly 5 PM.

Fucked up sleep schedule, here I come.

The familiar comfort of my bed allows me to quiet my thoughts enough to fall into a shallow sleep, until I'm startled awake by a vibrating sensation coming from underneath my chin.

I blink against the harsh light emitting from my phone, squinting to see who was disturbing me.

What the--oh shit!

It was an unknown number. Recognizing that it could be him, I sit up faster than I have ever managed to after a nap and fumble the phone into my palm, eagerly sliding my thumb across the screen to accept the call.

"Hello?"

My breath hitches and I bite my lip in anticipation as I wait, eager to hear his deep, silky voice on the other end.

But the pause on the other side of the line seems just a little too long. Something is off.

Is this him? Is it..just some creep? A prank? What the hell?

"We've been trying to reach you about your car's extended warranty."

My eyes slam shut, a shake reverberating through my spine as a cocktail of anger and embarrassment wash over me.

That's it. Hope is off limits from now on.

"Fucking great."

I tap the end button, half ready to throw my phone out the window.

Instead, I decide to check and see if I missed anything else while I was out.

Hope is off limits.

I shake my head, trying to erase the little embers of hope that persist, praying that maybe he did reach out.

To my surprise, there's a text from an unrecognized number.

Unknown: You free tonight, doll?

Holy shit.

Looking above the message, I see: Today 6:58 PM. I wince as I dare to look at the clock, which mercifully reads 7:26 PM.

Tapping the text box, I don't give myself the chance to overthink this opportunity.

Me: For you? Sure thing.

Tossing my phone onto the bed, I nod my head, processing the sudden burst of confidence I seem to have found.

I'm not like this. What is it about this guy? He's just that--a guy. One that I don't know. And now I'm just gonna meet up with him?

He's literally a stranger. Who the hell do I think I am?? Is my vagina just running things now? Gonna run out and meet up with some strange dude, because he's pretty and charming?

You know who else was pretty and charming?? Ted Bundy.

That's right, you said it. This is dumb, logically. This is everything everyone’s ever warned you about.

My phone buzzes and my heart rate spikes in response, tearing me from my spiraling doubts.

Unknown: Our spot. 30 minutes. See you there.

A noise that I've certainly never made before eeks past my lips as I process his instructions.

Fuck it. The possibility of this guy being a serial killer has been assessed. I'm going, risks be damned.

You're an idiot. You're an idiot. You're an idiot.

I sigh for the umpteenth time today, waging war in my own mind.

I don't know what it is about him, but I have to see him again. Nothing bad is going to happen. It'll be fine.

That's what I tell myself as I exhale, until I catch my reflection.

My hair is disheveled, my mascara askew. I didn't even bother to take off my uniform before I passed out.

As if I weren't flustered enough, now I gotta make myself looking somewhere near presentable and get down there in time.

Here goes nothing.

Fifteen minutes fly by and I think I've managed it as I step back to look myself over in the mirror once more.

The shortest pair of high-waisted shorts I own, paired with a low-cut black crop top and my favorite slip-ons. My make-up doesn't look perfect and there's not much of it, but it's touched up, and my hair is at least brushed.

Okay, no turning back now.

Grabbing my keys, I tuck my phone in my back pocket and make my way to the meeting place.

+++++++++++++++

Our spot. The man is smooth and I think that he knows it.

I re-read the last message he sent for probably the thirteenth time in the past five minutes.

The clock in the corner of the screen reads 8:02.

Maybe he won’t show. Maybe this is a joke. He and his buddies with come around a corner and laugh as they speed off.

Damn, can I chill? No. He’s going to be here. And I’m going to act like a human fucking being. A normal girl. Someone he could like; I’m capable of that.

Aren’t I?

Scanning my surroundings yet again, I take in the scenery. I never really get out at night, but the city looks so pretty this way. There’s not too much traffic, especially considering that it’s a Friday night, but there are some people milling about up and down the sidewalk. Some look like they’re on their way home. Some look like they’re on their way out for a night on the town.

“Hey there.”

My eyes are quick to follow the sound of his voice. I look up and he’s strolling up to the bench where I’m seated, the same one where I bandaged his arm the other day.

His hands are shoved in his front pockets, thumbs pushed through the belt loops of the tight, black jeans he’s sporting. His white t-shirt dangles off of his frame in a way that suits him, offering a glimpse of his muscular chest. A black coat completes his ensemble and he certainly looks the part of the typical bad boy.

But, damn, does it look so good on him.

“Hey, there. How’s the arm?”

I scoot over a bit, allowing for ample space between us if he were to take a seat. To my surprise, he sits towards the middle of the bench, so that his thigh brushes against mine as he settles.

I tuck my hair behind my ear, glancing down and covering the noise I want to make with a quiet clearing of my throat.

“It’s good. You do make a pretty decent nurse, sweetheart.”

He grins and pulls his coat sleeve back, revealing the still bandaged wound.

“Wait, have you changed that?”

You’re such a mom. You better hope he’s into MILFs, because otherwise this ain’t gonna get you where you wanna go, girl.

His brow furrows in an expression that tells me all I need to know before he even speaks.

“What do you mean? Changed what?”

A quiet sigh leaves my lungs as I hold out my hand.

“May I?”

His puzzled expression doesn’t falter, but he shrugs and offers his forearm up for inspection.

Carefully, I pull back the tape holding the bandages together and slowly begin to unwrap them.

That is, until the smell hits me. I barely catch of glimpse of the reddened skin before my nostrils detect the scent of burned flesh and excess viscera.

“Oh, dear. Have you even unwrapped this thing?”

Trying not to agitate anything further, I delicately wrap the bandages back around his arm, taping them down once again.

“No, should I have?”

I look up and my gaze meets his, a sense of true ignorance evident in his expression; I try not to laugh. I really try, but a soft giggle escapes nonetheless.

“Yes! I mean, if it doesn’t hurt, I’m sure it’s not that bad right now, but you should be cleaning and redressing a wound like that once every 12 hours at the very least. It’s been what, like, at least 50 at this point?”

His good arm reaches for the back of his neck, scratching at it as he dons an apologetic half smile.

“Sorry, I’m not exactly nurturing by nature, doll. I don’t know the first fucking thing about this kind shit.”

I cock a sympathetic smile as I look at him, sitting there looking almost helpless. I guess he is, in a sense. It’s actually kinda cute how he doesn’t seem to have an inkling of how to properly care for himself.

Because that’s absolutely what you want in a potential relationship. Someone to fix, how fun! Why not open up a shop for broken boys? Girl, when will you learnnn??

“Well, I don’t have anything on me right now, but if you don’t mind coming back to my place, I could clean it up there? And I’ll teach you how to keep up with it this time.”

I guess not today, motherfucker.

“Coming to my rescue again. You must be in a hero course, huh, doll?”

His smile is so naturally disarming as he stands and offers his hand out before me.

“I don’t mind, if you’re sure you don’t. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable and I don’t wanna be a burden. I didn’t ask you out tonight for you to have to play doctor on me again.”

He seems so sweet, so genuine. Maybe he is broken, but everyone deserves kindness. He looks like he hasn’t seen much of that. And as cliché as it is, maybe I can help him. Maybe he can help me.

I slip my hand in his, smiling as flirtatiously as I can manage as he pulls me to my feet.

“I don’t mind. I was kind of hoping I might get to play doctor on you again anyway. Maybe you could even return the favor.”

I brush my fingers against his as our hands disconnect, taking a page from his own book and watching his expression as my skin glides against his.

Or maybe we could just do this. This works too. No muss, no fuss. But oh my goodness what if what I just did was weird and he’s not even interested??

His eyebrows rise for just a moment as he chuckles and glances down, still grinning as he puts his hands in his coat pockets.

“Well, sweetheart, I don’t know much about medicine, but I do know how to give a pretty thorough physical exam.”

Something twitched deep inside my belly as my breath caught in my throat and I damn near tripped over my own two feet as we started walking.

Thankfully, his reflexes were quicker than my inate ability to fuck things up and his good arm reached out to steady my frame as he stepped in front of me.

The delicious scent of his cologne mingling with remnant cigarette smoke nearly made me dizzy as my hands connected with his chest, now completely unable to ignore the muscles just beneath his thin shirt.

“You all right there, doll?”

Long, slender fingers find their way under my chin. His thumb just barely brushing the edge of my bottom lip as he strokes it over my chin.

His eyes are practically piercing mine as he carefully lifts my face to his. Who knew being in such close proximity to someone so beautiful could be this paralyzing.

Holy fuck. Forget fixing me. He can break me and I’ll probably thank him for it.

The strong hand on the small of my back threatens to rob me of my breath all over again and I have to fight to keep any semblance of composure in his arms.

“Yeah.” I tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear and will myself to break eye contact. “You always have girls falling for you this quickly?”

I pity laugh at my own joke, wishing my quirk was something that would allow me to disappear.

But then he’s chuckling too. It’s melodious at first, but then it morphs into a deep reverberation that sends all the right chills down my spine as I level my eyes with his again.

He looks like an enigma personified. His eyes look so gentle and warm, but his smile reads so sad. The words that leave his lips sound like both a warning and an invitation to my flushe red ears.

“Trust me, princess. You don’t wanna fall for me. I’m no good for you.”

Oh, but it’s too late for that.

[bunny-bts]

She's Everything

Pairing: Yoogni x Reader

Summary: You moved and started anew in Korea, where you were so lucky to meet your favorite KPop idols. You've been happier the past two years than ever and all because you chose to leave romantic love in your past but you're unaware of your friends' feelings.

Warnings: maybe cursing?

Author: Based on She's Everything by Brad Paisley because this picture does things to me. Noone can tell me they don't listen to country. Part 2?

Words: a lot, I was copy pasting it to a word counter and got tired. For the record, wrote this after work so....

"Night guys," Yoogni pats all of the guys on thier shoulders. It had been a long day and he just wanted to go home and pick some strings, relieve stress. He sighs and leaves, twirling his car keys on his finger as he walks out of the studio. The sun had set hours ago and the stars lit up the sky now, he stops to look up at it for a second before walking to his car and slipping in and noticing that he had gotten a message saying he needed to do a live video. He slid his phone up on his dash and leaned his head back on his chair and groans before sighing and driving home, well the hotel room. Quiet, it was quiet, he wished he was back in Korea with you as he tosses his phone on the couch and keys on the kitchen bar table and flicks the lights on. He kicks his shoes off by the door. He made his way over to the couch and sets the laptop up for a video. Reminding himself to put on a smile as he leans over and grabs his guitar. Immediately the video has comments flooding up, he waves and gestures his guitar and explains he had a long day and wants to play. Just like that, song suggestions fly in, he can't even keep up to read them all but he catches the one that he was hoping to see. Yours. "Play something country," he shakes his head and smiles. He can't out right say Y/N and acknowledge you but he finds the chord and starts playing and you know he saw your comment. He plays and his mind wanders, he just focuses on the music and memories of the past few years flood his mind

She's a yellow pair of running shoes

He doesn't realize he is about to laugh as he starts singing because of the memory. It was maybe six months ago when you and Jungkook, being the idiots you both were and the same age, decided that you wanted to race to see who would buy the other cake at lunch. You won, despite your legs not being as long they carried you just as fast. You wanted to do it barefoot but Jin and Namjoon wouldn't allow it, you insisted the shoes slowed you down. Truth was you just hated wearing shoes. You did start taking off barefoot but they said no because it was on pavement, much to your annoyance. Your shoes were yellow because they were a dirty pair of what used to be white knock off converses and they just got dingy with age. Come to think of it, you may have actually been faster without them, you had some powerful feet.

A holey pair of jeans

All of your damn pants had holes in them. All of them that fit you at least, you either bought them ripped or there was one pair you sandpapered a rip into and wore so much that the fashionable little rip turned to a giant gaping hole in the knees because the strings popped and faded away. God, your jeans aggravated him.

She looks great in cheap sunglasses

You were frugal. He remembers a trip to a mall one time with you and Jungkook, and Joon. Joon wanted to visit the sunglasses shop because he had broken yet another pair. As Namjoon tried some on and he leaned on the door waiting for you all because he just wanted to sleep that day. "Y/N, try these," Joon hands you a pair and he remembers watching. "Ray-Bans, ey~ she got them Ray Bans-," you tried them on, "I can dig it," you make your rapper face in the mirror until you see the price. "What the fuck? Oh hell no, you just gonna break them anyway. Come-on." Then you dragged the boys out by their hands and told Namjoon to drive to a gas station. You walked out wearing a pair of shades, your hair blowing in the breeze and sun shining down on you. Ofcourse he was looking at your cut off daisy dukes but his eyes in that moment trained in on the sight of your face and he was glad you and the guys weren't paying attention. You looked so damn good in them, and you looked like for a split second you felt like you looked good too. You walked over to them, "three dollars, you're welcome," you smirk giving them to RM who immediately broke them trying to put them on his face. "Okay, six dollars, I'll be back"

She looks great in anything

Despite what you thought, you did. His favorite thing for you to wear would be lingerie but he's never seen that, imagined it yes, but that's different. His favorite thing he has seen you wear is a good pair of jeans. Jeans when they don't have holes. They hug you nicely, paired with a navy blue v neck blouse you have and he is done for. It's all he can do to not say something to you. You did maybe three times a year max do this, but, wear lip gloss, that made his knees absolutely weak. He has known you for two years now and you've done that three times, once to church, once to go clubbing with them at a beach, and once just because but it had to be a somewhat special occasion for it to happen.

She's: "I want a piece of chocolate"

This was a recent memory, last month. Your cycle came while you happened to be staying over with them. He, Jimin and Hobi went to get you some things, upon Namjoon's request. He knew what to grab because he is a grown ass man but you texted him that you wanted specially that you wanted just a little bit of chocolate. You were adamant as always that there was a such thing as too much chocolate. He was going to just grab a candy bar but Hobi was for some reason hell bent that you needed strawberries. You did like strawberries but still? Jimin said that chocolate to dip them in would be perfect. You were pleased.

"Take me to a movie"

You would be perfectly happy if you went to work and on your days off went to see a movie, then came home and had dinner and just talked the night away on the porch or sat there silently. You knew what movies you wanted to see and the trailers gave you something to look forward to.

She's: "I can't find a thing to wear"

This. You will complain about not having anything to wear while trying on a million outfits. He and Jin don't hesitate to groan and complain, but really, he wished the door was open and he could see the little fashion show

Now and then she's moody

Moody wasn't really it, what he narrowed it down to be was that you were like him. You were nice, sweet, most times but now and again life becomes too much and you bottle things up so it explodes like when you shake a bottle of soda and open it

She's a Saturn with a sunroof

That was true, you weren't fancy. He smiles to himself, thinking about you trying to drive a family vehicle like that and he laughs as he sings. He imagines you screaming at Jin and Jungkook in the back and threatening them that they can't have fries if they don't be quiet and pictures himself sitting front passengers seat next to you and just watching you. This hasn't happened, but he can imagine it.

With her brown her a blowing

He loves watching your long brown hair blow in the breeze. If it's a gentle breeze it looks like in the movies and music videos; like princess Pocahontas. However, when it's strong wind it's one of the funniest things in the world to him. It's slapping your face, going in your mouth, getting hella tangled which would hurt later but it pissing you off was funny. He would always be there to help you brush it and wipe your tears later

She's a soft place to land and a good feeling knowing

He may not realize it but all the girls watching are cooing at the warm face he has as his eyes close. He wished you were here and he could lay his head on your lap now, feel you stroking his hair and drift to sleep there but it was a good feeling knowing you were watching this live he had long forgotten about

She's a warm conversation

That I wouldn't miss for nothing

She's a fighter when she's mad, and a lover when she's loving

When you got mad, it ranged from cute to damn with hot somewhere in the middle, damn being scary. Youre so small but just damn. As far as loving, you wouldn't let yourself do that romantically but he sees how you are with him and the guys.

And she's everything I ever wanted

And everything I need

I talk about her

I go on and on, and on

'Cause she's everything to me

She's a Saturday out on the town and a church girl on Sunday

Cross around her neck

Seven, no, eight months ago. Back in the summer, blinding light came into the room waking him up. He shielded his eyes and sits up. "Wake up Suga," he heard your voice, filled with something, a emotion he couldn't place. "Wha-," he was hungover, "what? W-Why are you awake? We slept for," he looked at the clock, "two hours? When did we get back?" You shrug. It was then he realized you were wearing a pale-ish clam pink silk dress with spaghetti straps on your shoulders, no bra, paired with wedge high heel sandals. He let his eyes scan you apply your lipgloss, the one that's the same kind JK uses, the uh, Rosy lips Vaseline. You leaned over the vanity mirror of the hotel room to see what you were doing and he remembers taking in the sight. Contrary to the jeans you wore the night before with the black t-shirt. "What's going on?" "I need to start going back to church"

"mmk, have fun," he laid back down, just feeling hungover as fuck. How are you not? He looks over his shoulder at you downing two Excedrins dry before coming over and sitting on the side of the bed. You put a hand on his bare shoulder, "Please," he couldn't look at you, in this, look in those eyes and say no. "Mmk"

And a curse word cause it's Monday

Fuck was your favorite word, there was no doubt. You love how versatile it was. It could be a verb, an adjective, a noun, you even somehow managed to make it a proper noun. He heard you say it shamelessly every way possible, except one

She's a bubble bath and candles

Candles gave you migraines, the scents were overwhelming, but you kept unscented ones on hand. If you've had a day anything like his today you'd light some for aesthetic purposes and sink yourself into a nice hot bath and most likely forget your bubbles in another room only to call him or one of the guys to get it for you and giggle happily upon being able to use it. After ofcourse smelling it and humming contently

Baby come and kiss me

You had only said this to them all in a playful platonic way, to kiss thier head or cheek. There was one time when you were all drinking around a fire at the lake house when you did say it and kiss Jin on the lips. It was a peck, you were all drunk, but he can't help the frown appearing on his face

She's a one glass of wine and she's feeling kinda tipsy

"No! Stob it Y/N!" The smile returns remembering this night. You decided to have a glass of wine and unwind. Your logic was that the bottle itself was made of glass to justify your actions

She's the giver I wish I could be

Stealer of the covers

Every time you sleep over, the guys agree on one thing. No matter who you sleep with, you are a blanket hog. You don't do it on purpose. It's just that you start sleeping in fetal position and without realizing it go into a deep sleep and somehow maneuver into some sort of rogue pelican formation. Not to mention you're always cold

His wallet falls out of his pocket onto the floor as he's getting into it, he comes back to reality and stops playing for a second as he reaches down for it and stops. He stops and smiles at the flap that's open with a picture in it. A selfie you took of you and him randomly one day because you caught him smiling and wanted evidence. You wanted proof and since you never had a open mouthed smile like in this one he wanted it to so he had it made into a photo card. He remembers and gets back to singing, noticing the comments demanding it.

She's a picture in my wallet

Of my unborn children's mother

He doesn't even realize that he stops this time for quite a long moment at the memory that comes with this line. Or that he is crying much less.

It was one day when you saw a pregnant girl and everyone was swooning over her and her son who was with her. Her son wanted to play with the guys to which they all happily went along. You walked away and he followed noticing something was up.

"Y/N...."

"Oh hey," you smiled up at him, weakest one possible.

"Something wrong?" He sat at the picnic table across from you.

"It's silly..."

"Tell me anyway?"

"I've known I've wanted to be a mom since I was 16. One day I was riding home on the bus and I just decided, someday that's what I wanted. I never wanted a huge family, I just wanted one or two. Not then, obviously, I just knew someday. I moved here after a long term relationship ended, y'know that....I wanted one with him, I cried, I can't even remember how many times I cried and practically begged, but there was always some reason we couldn't he'd come up with.....so," you shrugged, "it's silly, it doesn't matter anyway. Never going to happen.....girls like me don't get that," You got up and left him there and walked back to the car

He now realizes his face is wet and reaches up to wipe the tears that went down his face

She's the hand that I'm holding

When I'm on my knees and praying

The memory of the morning of the hangover returns again. He could tell you were nervous, eyes were on you. He knew it because you were so beautiful but you probably didn't. When the church cleared and it was just the two of you you dropped to your knees but stood back up just as quickly.

"Hey, Y/N, you can pray if you want..."

You shook your head, "I've messed up a lot, I'm scared...."

Nothing scared you. He took your hand and got on his knees too. "I'll do it too"

The two of you prayed in silence, holding hands. He finished before you did and just stared at your interlocked hands, rubbing his thumb over your ring finger

She's the answer to my prayer

She's the song that I'm playing

And she's everything I ever wanted

And everything I need

I talk about her

I go on and on, and on

'Cause she's everything to me

She's that voice I 'd love to hear

Someday when I'm ninety

Every day that passes

I only love her more

Yeah, she's the one

That I'd lay down my own life for

And she's everything I ever wanted

And everything I need

She's everything to me

Yeah, she's everything to me

Everything I ever wanted

And everything I need

She's everything to me

Sitting the guitar down he smiles at the camera, says goodnight and blows a kiss. With a little heart fingers he says goodnight and signs off and gets ready for bed