#you will not be disappointed in the treatment you receive as a guest of this shadows ''abode''

[illusoryquixot]

Late night bonus Shadow Yu hehe ╰(*´︶`*)╯

Variant of this art over here - [Link]

[yuesya]

Aventurine tilts the wineglass in his hands. A careless, indolent gesture. Light catches onto the glass rim at this angle, bright and sharp.

Rapid footsteps sound outside the doorway, indicative of a brisk run. Then it ceases, followed by a perfunctory knock, and then the door swings open–

“My sincerest apologies for the wait, sir.” The man who enters the room is well-dressed, with oiled hair slicked back neatly upon his head. There’s a deeply fake smile stretched wide over his lips –or at least, the joy within the expression is feigned, but the greed is real. “It is a great honor to receive a guest such as yourself to our humble establishment.”

Aventurine answers with his own friendly smile. One that is equally fake as the one that he’s presented with, although less overtly so.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he says, lifting the wineglass raised between his fingers just slightly so. He does not rise from his seat to greet the other man.

“Please, the pleasure is all mine.” The man’s smile twitches, but he visibly reins himself in and refrains from expressing any sign of discontent at the treatment. “If any of the arrangements or other services during your wait are lacking to your tastes, I must deeply apologize again. We were not expecting to receive such distinguished personnel from the IPC.”

“Oh, think nothing of it,” Aventurine responds casually.

The man licks his lips. “… If I may ask, honored guest… what is it among the wares of this lowly auction house that has caught the IPC’s attention?”

Impatient, and greedy. Hmm. 

In that case… 

“Ah, that.” Aventurine pauses, noting the unconscious manner in which the man’s fingers rub together, the unblinking attention that hangs on to his every word. “It seems that I must disappoint you, then. Aventurine is not present on behalf of the IPC.”

The man’s expression falls swiftly, his disappointment a dark storm. “That, that’s…”

Aventurine ignores the stuttering.

“I’m merely here to kill some time,” he laughs, “Don’t think too much about it. Unless, do you really think that you’re in possession of something that the IPC would be interested in? I’m not averse to assessing the product and perhaps making a deal, if that’s really the case.”

Red colors the man’s face, but to his credit, he does not lose his composure. “… Surely you jest, sir. If we knowingly possessed something of that value, then we would’ve left this planet for greener pastures a long time ago.”

“Oh? So I suppose your auction house holds nothing of interest, then?” Aventurine arches an eyebrow.

The man grits his teeth. “… Nothing that would be of any worth to the IPC, perhaps. But you seem like a man who is appreciative of the finer things in life, and… and, our auction house is renowned in these parts for luxury items. I am quite certain that there will be something in our catalogue that will suit your tastes!”

Ha.

A small-time auction house like this… if someone like one of the Ten Stonehearts of the IPC were in attendance to one of their auctions, it would be a massive boost to their reputation, and open many doors for him. Hence the man’s initial delight in Aventurine’s arrival. His hope plummeted upon hearing that the IPC was uninvolved, however. And now that Aventurine himself made it clear that he was only here on a whim, and fast losing interest…

The auction owner was desperate to entice him into staying.

For a small planet like this, there was quite a broad range of selections that the man was presenting before him. Exotic delicacies, uncanny knickknacks, rare materials…

“–a-and we have new additions to the choice of personal servants, as well!” Sweat beads upon the man’s brow at Aventurine’s continued disinterest. “There’s an albino Foxian, very sweet and obedient, although she’s quite young. I-if young children aren’t to your liking, then there are also other options! We have a lovely young lady with very pretty eyes, almost like gemstones–”

There it is.

… The entire reason why Aventurine is even bothered to be in a place like this at all.

“Pretty eyes?” Aventure stretches and yawns exaggeratedly, finally cutting off the man’s tirade. “Even prettier than mine?”

The man freezes. Triumph blatantly flashes across his expression, before he swiftly ducks his head.

“A slightly different kind of beauty, if I might offer my humble opinion,” he says. “She’s a recent acquisition, from one of the war-ravaged worlds –a lucky find; our suppliers there usually bring in malnourished children, but that’s been growing steadily more difficult, ever since that singer from The Family traveled there in person and started interfering.”

Frustration. The man sucks in a deep breath.

“But this time, they found a lovely little bird,” he continues smugly. “One with silvery hair, and gorgeous blue eyes that gleam like jewels when they catch the light just right.”

“Like jewels, you say?”

“Quite so.” The man lifts his gaze to carefully study his reactions. Aventurine’s smile does not waver under the unsubtle scrutiny. “Ordinarily, the goods of our auction are not to be displayed before the auction begins, but… for an honored guest such as yourself, exceptions can definitely be made.”

‘Goods,’ he says. Slavery.

Aventurine remembers the pain of the brand being burned into his neck, of the days when he’d been bought and as considered nothing but merchandise–

The Avgins of Sigonia are dead.

… Aventurine knows this.

And yet, there is still a part of him that cannot help but… pay attention to trivial, useless things, even when the chance of any survivors aside from himself is bleak.

An auction selling a young, pretty girl with beautiful eyes, found from one of the neighboring planets beside Sigonia-IV?

Even if it’s a long shot, Aventurine still…

…

“Since she’s such a new acquisition, there hasn’t been time to train her properly yet. But, fear not! I am sure that she will–”

The man breaks off with a startled yelp as the entire building suddenly shakes.

Briefly, there is silence.

And then–

The screaming starts.

Pain. Terror.

Aventurine ignores the panicked, incoherent blubbering next to him, and promptly rises to his feet.

[least-carpet]

Wen Ning Gets a Life, please!

Wen Ning Gets a Life it is!

This is the ningcheng monster I've been writing for months, the end result of the following thought process:

Wait, maybe I'm into ningcheng for real?

Being a fierce corpse fucking sucks, someone should resurrect Wen Ning. Shame he doesn't live in SVSSS-verse, bet there's a (sex-related) cure for that...

Wouldn't it be funny and very keeping with Wen Ning's luck generally if Wei Wuxian finally let him hit and the sex was bad?

Since I don't know how much sex is too much for the hellsite, have the lead-in to Wen Ning and Jiang Cheng's first bad-idea hookup.

Wen Ning covered his eyes with his hand. There was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” he said.

When he removed his hand, Jiang Cheng was there, his eyes sharp as always and his mouth a narrowed little slash in his face.

Resentment surged in his heart. This was always going to happen—they would see each other—he was, after all, a guest in the other man’s sect. But now? Wen Ning wasn’t in the mood.

“Wen Ning,” said Jiang Cheng, slowly. “Imagine finding you here.”

“Uh, Sect Leader Jiang,” he said. “Are you injured?”

“No,” he said. “I was—passing by. I heard someone in here and I wondered what they were doing in the store rooms at night.”

“Chang An said I could help out around here,” said Wen Ning defensively. “Can I—can I help you?”

Jiang Cheng cocked his head to the side, examining him. Wen Ning felt his gaze like a touch as it raked up and down his body.

“You look the same,” he said.

“Excuse me?” said Wen Ning.

Jiang Cheng came in, shutting the door behind him. The air hung stagnant and thick.

“I received a very interesting report from my medical team yesterday evening,” said Jiang Cheng. “Proposing that your condition might be reversed. But you don’t look like anything’s different. Weren’t you supposed to receive your first treatment today?”

Wen Ning stiffened.

“I did,” he said. “It’s very—very unlikely anything would change right away.”

“Disappointed?” Jiang Cheng asked.

“No, I—I knew it would take time,” said Wen Ning.

Jiang Cheng smiled. It was not a very nice smile. “But you’re still disappointed.”

Wen Ning pressed his lips together.

“Dual cultivation not quite everything you dreamed?” asked Jiang Cheng. “The sex must have been terrible for you to be here in the middle of the night looking like you want to cry into our bandages. Be sure to wipe your tears with something else—I don’t have time to get those replaced.”

"Sect Leader Jiang—"

But he couldn’t contradict him. The sex had been terrible.

Jiang Cheng let out a sharp bark of laughter. “It was really that bad! How bad must it have been to put you off Wei Wuxian?”

The bandages fell out of his numb hands onto the counter.

“Well, my condolences to you for the disappointment. Tell you what, if you need someone to see to the job properly, you can always come and ask me to do it.”

[funnuraba]

Special feature of the short version of Uncle Fred in the Springtime: the holiest of Baxtance grails... proof they switch a canon scene with him in sniveling wet cat mode while she gets increasingly annoyed with him, but then melts when she hears the tale of his many sufferings. Which she instantly believes despite it being the fakest-sounding story ever. Also him being compared to her dog twice

[The telegram] found Lady Constance in a mood of serene contentment. In the drawing room over the coffee, she had had an extended interview with the visiting brain specialist, and his views regarding the Duke, she was pleased to find, were identical with her own. He endorsed her opinion that steps must be taken immediately, but assured her that only the simplest form of treatment was required to render His Grace a man who, if you put an egg into his hand, would not know what to do with it.

And she had been running over in her mind a few of his most soothing pronouncements and thinking what a delightful person he was, when Beach, the butler, entered her boudoir with an orange envelope on a salver, and opening it, she read as follows:

LADY CONSTANCE KEEBLE, BLANDINGS CASTLE, SHROPSHIRE.

PLEASE FORGIVE MY NONARRIVAL. CIRCUMSTANCES ARISEN WHICH RENDER VISIT UN-NECESSARY. DELIGHTED ASSURE YOU POSITIVELY NO CAUSE ANXIETY. WRITING FULLY.

RODERICK GLOSSOP.

It was a communication which, considering that she had only just seen Sir Roderick Glossop go off with the Duke to the latter's suite, might well have mystified her, and for perhaps an instant it did. Then her mind leaped to the truth. Her agreeable guest was no Glossop, but merely a pseudo or synthetic Glossop-in other words, a deceiver and an impostor.

That she should rapidly have accepted the telegram's implications was due partly to her native intelligence, but principally to the faet that this sort of thing had happened to her before.

Where another woman, accordingly, might have wasted time in fruitless wonderings, Lady Constance acted.

Beach had scarcely left the room before she recalled him and bade him find Mr. Baxter and inform him that she would be glad if he would come to her immediately. And presently the secretary appeared, looking careworn.

"Mr. BAX-ter!" cried Lady Con-stance. "Read this!"

The next few moments were moments of acute disappointment to her.

If there was one man in the world who might have been counted on with confidence to behave like a bloodhound on the trail the instant he was shown that telegram, she had supposed it would have been Rupert Baxter. Hitherto, his attitude toward Blandings Castle's impostors had always been impeccable, and it was for this reason that she had automatically selected him as her confidant. But now he failed completely to rise to the situation. Having inspected the telegram, he stood fumbling it, then, blinking behind his spectacles, said in a sheepish, spiritless voice:

"Some mistake."

"Mistake?"

From anyone eise she would have received this extraordinary statement with raised eyebrows and a shriveling stare. But her faith in this man was the faith of a little child. The strength of his personality, though she had a strong personality herself, had always dominated her. And now for a brief instant she actually did feel that there must have been a mistake.

Then the absurdity of the idea eame home to her. "How can it be a mis-take? Isn't it obvious that this man who claims to be Sir Roderick Glossop is a fraud? You can't have read the telegram properly. Look at it. Signed by Sir Roderick himself."

"Er--yes."

"It says he isn't coming."

"He may have changed his mind."

"And come after all, you mean?"

"Er--yes."

"Then he is one of the most remarkable men I have ever encountered. While dressing for dinner at Blandings Castle, he is able to send off telegrams in London. Perhaps you did not observe that this one was handed in in Piccadilly just before eight o'clock."

Baxter shuffled uncomfortably. "I--er--I should imagine that the explanation of that is that Sir Roderick—earlier in the day thought that he would be unable to come--and told his secretary to telegraph to you--and—er— forgot to countermand it."

"Whereupon the secretary waits till eight o'clock and then sends off the message. Mr. Baxter," said Lady Constance, "really."

Baxter moistened his lips. All this was agony to him. No one could have been more keenly alive to the fact that he was cutting an ignoble figure.

"It is all very mysterious," he mum-bled, "but I do not see that there is anything to be done about it."

Lady Constance stared at him, amazed. No sportsman, introducing his terrier to rats and seeing the animal back uneasily away, could have been more disconcerted.

Knowing nothing of what had passed between this backslider and Lord Ickenham in the latter's bedroom, she found his attitude inexplicable.

"Nothing to be done about it?" she cried. "I shall naturally have the man thrown out immediately."

Baxter's spectacles flickered with a panic light. "Please, Lady Constance!" he exclaimed. "I beg of you to do nothing of the sort."

"Mr. Baxter. I simply do not understand you. Why?"

"It would ruin my career."

It is never pleasant for a proud man to have to confess that scoundrels have got him in cleft sticks, and in Rupert Baxter's manner as he told his tale there was nothing of relish. But painful though it was, he told it clearly.

"You will see, then," he concluded, "that if you make anything in the nature of an overt move, I shall lose my post. And my post is all important to me. It is my intention ultimately to become the Duke's man of affairs, in charge of all his interests. I hope I can rely on you, Lady Constance, to do nothing that will interfere with that?"

"Of course," said Lady Constance.

Her cold displeasure had melted. She understood all and pardoned all. Not for an instant, now that the facts had been placed before her, did she contemplate the idea of hindering his rise to the heights. "You think, then, that if this man is exposed, he will retaliate by telling Alaric that it was at your suggestion that the wine was watered?"

"He told me so himself, without any possibility of a misunderstanding."

"Then we are helpless!"

"I fear so."

With a wide gesture of despair, Rupert Baxter withdrew, and Lady Constance rose from her chair and started to pace the room in agitation. The thought of being compelled to continue entertaining this impostor until such time as he should decide to loot the house and leave with the sack over his shoulder was not an agreeable one....

[omitsucoven]

Day Two : Havent I given enough ? (English Version)

Hi, sorry for the delay. It was impossible for me to post yesterday. Hope you will enjoy !

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Word Count : 1k013

Letter Count (no spaces): 4k537

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Sitting at his desk, Elzry looked out of his window at the surroundings of his castle. The forest was dark at this time of day. He sighed before returning to his task. He had temporarily moved into one of the guest rooms. He found it more efficient here than in his big office. He found it too… pompous. Suddenly, someone interrupted the almost religious silence in the room.

"Sir! A missive from your mother!" shouted the courier as he entered the room.

The black-haired man turned around, waving for the man to come closer. The latter complied, holding out with both hands the letter carefully sealed with blue wax. An insignificant detail, you might say. However, the colour of the seal was sometimes far more important than the content. Once he had the letter in hand, Elzry dismissed the courier, leaving himself alone in the room.

He took a brief moment to look at the letter from the outside before opening it. He skimmed the lines quickly. The further he read, the more rage, anger and sadness came into his head. The words were harsh. Was he to understand that he was nothing but an incompetent? No, he wasn't. He was doing his best to make this bunch of old lizards proud, and yet it was never enough. Now he had come to the end. He chuckled as he read the closing words: "With love and devotion, Your Mother, Momurru Moreon Magtumal. Love, she dared to call that love? Come to think of it, had he ever received love from his family? He probably couldn't remember. After all, how could he? No matter what he did, he was always mocked, criticised or even humiliated. Even if they were sometimes affectionate, it would always be different with him. He was the only child of the union of the two most influential dragon clans. Even though his status gave him immense privileges and a most honourable status, did it justify such a lack of consideration? Was this not clear evidence of neglect? Why was he treated so differently? Why weren't Cerome, Zydha, Ordy or even Edha entitled to the same treatment as him? They too were heirs to the Magtumal and Iandroan clans. Yet, in his eyes, their parents were almost lax compared to what they expected of him.

Elzry crumpled the paper between his fingers. He stood motionless for a moment before pulling a stack of papers from one of his desk drawers. He opened his inkwell, drew out his large quill and began to write.

Dear Momurru Moreon Magtumal,

I have just received your letter. I'll spare you the useless and pompous politeness that you like to use to conceal your contempt. Perhaps this is your way of easing your conscience.

I have read your letter, which I have just received, over and over again. You claim to be disappointed, but I think that of the two of us, I should be the more distressed by the situation. Are we a family? Then why have I never felt part of it? Why do you keep telling me that I'm a pillar of the family if you treat me like I'm just an embarrassment? You've always acted differently towards me. You've kept me as far away from you as possible, and when I've tried to get closer to you, you've pushed me away, you've made me the one at fault, you've accused me of causing you harm, you've accused me of forcing your hand when we needed to resolve our conflicts, you've accused me of creating an unhappiness in you, of making you ill.

Have you ever once thought about the weight and power of your words? Have you once regretted calling me incapable? For humiliating me in front of my brothers and sisters? That you never gave me an ounce of support when I failed? For never offering me the comfort of a mother that I so desperately needed? No. You've never thought about it, preferring to hide behind your stories of honour and duty. Am I to understand that you have no duty? Why should I respect your wishes and your orders when you fail to fulfil your part of the contract?

I know you won't answer a single one of these questions. You never have. Nor do I wish to receive an answer in which you claim to have understood my message. I would be lying if I said that I hoped that one day our relationship would finally become that of a mother and son. Perhaps I was too hopeful. Maybe I was asking more of you than I should have. Maybe you were right, maybe in the end I really was a failure.

Your incompetent, your failure, your son, Elzry Ascal Magtumal.

Having signed his letter, Elzry stared at the piece of paper for a moment. He folded it carefully and inserted it in an envelope. He sealed it with black wax. He placed his seal on it. He opened the window and whispered something. By magic, the letter began to fly to its destination at breakneck speed. Once that was done, he closed the window. His cold blue eyes looked around the room. He approached a mirror to observe himself. He wondered how he had got there. Physically, he was perfect. Why wasn't that enough? He murmured a formula again as he closed his eyes. After a few seconds, he opened his eyes. Looking at himself in the mirror, he could see his new face. What made him so 'special'? His blue eyes, verging on white, had been replaced by pink pupils. His black hair had turned white. Four golden diamonds sat in the middle of his forehead. Was it these markings that made everyone treat him differently? After all, he couldn't remember his companions having such physical changes when they were in their full form. He sighed before returning to his 'original' form. Elzry returned to his desk. He settled back in and got back to work. Maybe this time he'd get something right? Hahaha. If only.

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[genesissupplies]

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Source:https://www.genesissuppliesinc.ca/blog/1878-hotel-supplies-the-secret-ingredient-to-elevate-your-guest-experience-to-the-next-level.html

[brisbanecleaningandpestcontrol]

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Creepy Crawlies like Cockroaches, Spiders, Rodents, Mice, Ants, Moths, Termites and Birds are going to give you the creeps and trouble you time and again.

Bracken Ridge… about 11 Miles north of Brisbane City enjoys similar Tropical Weather plus has a hilly terrain. So whether you like it or not, PESTS are going to be your Unwelcome Guests or rather they will be the Inhabitants of the Home/Office you are planning to Inhabit. Pest Control Bracken Ridge are like twin words… they go together. Bracken Ridge means Pest Control is needed. So talking about Pest Control Bracken Ridge, We @ BCCPC (Brisbane Commercial Cleaning & Pest Control) are absolutely Trained, Experienced and Equipped to tackle any PEST related issue in Bracken Ridge.

BCCPC is always on the “Alert Mode “and ready to Go to Action the moment you need Pest Control Bracken Ridge.

Our Team of Experts @ BCCPC are trained to tackle every Pest Control Bracken Ridge call on it’s Merit… to act as per the requirement of the Client and Deliver 100% Satisfaction and VALUE FOR MONEY! If you need Pest Control in Bracken Ridge, which you surely will, then just Connect with BCCPC and RELAX! Let our Team do the rest and We ensure you that your issue of Pest Control @ Bracken Ridge will be successfully solved by our Expert Team.

Before you Call BCCPC… Say ‘ALL THE BEST, TO YOUR PESTS ’, THEY WILL NEED IT !

[professionalcateringservices]

Guide to Locating Professional Catering Services

Modern-day life is full of social and corporate events. Event organizers are often looking for professional catering services because of their busy schedules and appreciation for quality services. You can save a lot of time and effort by hiring a reputable caterer.

Professional caterers are skilled at providing guests with delicious food and beverages in a professional and elegant manner. It can be difficult to find the right service with the many available. You can identify a professional caterer by knowing what you are looking for in a service.

Experience

Professional จัดเลี้ยงนอกสถานที่ services should be both competent and experienced. A professional caterer will have some helpful tips to ensure a successful event. The caterer can also help with the planning and coordination of the activities as well as clearing up after the event.

It is important to consider the experience of the caterer's staff when deciding the quality of the service you will receive. The caterer's staff should be capable of handling the service efficiently and addressing all guests professionally. To get an idea of how the catering business is, read the reviews.

Coordinating

You should conduct a background check to determine the level of experience the service provider has in organizing the type of event you plan. The service provider must be capable of managing the event flawlessly, from start to finish. It is important to evaluate several professional wedding caterers if you are looking to have a successful event.

Services specialized

Professional caterers are able to provide a wide variety of food and beverages. The caterer will ask about the type of food you prefer (e.g., Mediterranean, Middle Eastern, Chinese, Indian). Mediterranean, Italian, Middle Eastern, Chinese, Indian, American, etc.). Many of the food items can be customized for breakfasts, lunches or dinners.

Customer care that is efficient

The service provider's treatment of clients can help you determine the quality of the service they provide. Uncooperative customer service can lead to disorganized catering staff, which can create problems during an event.

The service provider should be available during business hours. Professional caterers offer their services online, which allows them to respond quickly to customer queries.

Hire caterers and ensure that all agreements are in writing. Keep a copy of the contract as proof. Some caterers will ask for cash payment, while others will request credit card payments.

Sometimes guests may invite one or more friends to join them. You may get more people than you anticipated at your event. Before you reach an agreement with your caterer, it is important to take into account such situations.

It is possible to feel disappointed if your friends are hungry and others are well fed at your event. Talk to your BBQ caterer about how to accommodate unexpected guests.

No matter what pricing model you choose, a competent catering company will be able deliver exceptional results, delicious food and professional service at an honest and reasonable price. Choose a company with experience, integrity, talent to ensure that you get the best deal for your catered event.

[rowanaelinn]

Wires - Prologue

Masterlist

A/N: Hey! I hope you will enjoy this new fic:) It’s set in a Formula One AU, and I know that it can be confusing so feel free to ask any questions if I write something you don’t understand! I’m doing my best to explain without info dumping, lol. Are we ready for romance and angst and smut?👀

Warnings: Language | Word Count: 3,100

The sun beamed through the private plane’s window, warming up Aelin’s naked thighs. She’d been nose deep into her books for the entire flight, knees bent and feet resting on her seat.

She was grateful for the new headphones she bought a month before, noise cancelling ones. It came in handy when Aedion’s and his team started talking strategy. Sometimes she enjoyed hearing them speak, it was distracting and even comical when no one agreed, but sometimes she needed her peace and quiet.

When they left Spain barely a hour ago, the air was warm and welcoming. She loved her country, loved its people and its landscape. The month of March officially opened the tourism season, tourists who couldn’t handle extreme heat enjoyed their stay in early spring.

But it wasn’t the only thing officially starting in March. When the sun started showing and warming the sand of Spain, it was when the annual Formula One championship started. With that, started eight to nine months of entire debauchery, happiness, anger and exhaustion.

She vaguely remembered traveling all over the world as a kid, her father talking strategy while she sat on his lap playing with her dolls. She slightly remembered the heavy, yellow protection her mother used to place over Aelin’s ears.

Her parent’s mansion was full of pictures of her father celebrating his wins with Aelin on his shoulders. She was his pride and joy, or at least it was what her mother told her.

Aelin looked up to find her uncle’s warm gaze on her. She smiled at him, sending a small wave of her hand his way. He winked and turned his gaze back on his son.

The first race of the season was four days away, but Aedion already looked ready for battle. He didn’t take well his loss last season, not when he’d been so close to winning.

Aedion Ashryver had been born for winning. He could barely walk the first time his father and hers took him into a kart, and since that day, half of his soul belonged to the track.

He trained his entire life to be where he was now. At twenty-seven, Aedion was in the prime of his career. Some drivers kept racing even in their forties, but it was rare. If it was on Aelin, Aedion would already be retired. She hated this world, the luxury and the falseness of it all. She despised the consequences this lifestyle had on her.

She had stayed away from it all for years, only attending one race per year: Aedion’s home race in Barcelona.

That was until now, until her goddamned cousin gave her an ultimatum. She wanted to be angry at him, and a big part of her was. But she was also aware that she brought it on herself. So, she brooded in silence and away from everyone else.

She gathered her pink hair in a high ponytail and used the empty seat next to her to lay her legs there, using her cousin’s Ferrari coat to cover her legs. Damn air conditioning, she started shivering the moment she closed the porthole, darkening her side of the plane.

Aedion threw a glance at her, and she arched a blonde eyebrow in question. He hadn’t really talked to her, either. He looked away, and she hid her disappointment.

She rested her head against the wall and fell into a restless sleep until they landed in Germany.

What was advantageous while traveling as one of the Ferrari’s driver’s special guests was the treatment she received. The private planes, she was used to it. It nearly was the only way she had used to travel for her entire life. No, what Aelin appreciated was how they made it their job to serve her as much as they did for Aedion.

Alright, maybe he was treated a little bit better. But still, Aelin didn’t refuse it when one man from his team took her luggage and placed it in the trunk of Aedion’s rental car.

His entire job was driving, so Aedion always refused to be driven anywhere. The only time she saw him on a passenger seat since he turned eighteen was when he taught her how to drive for long hours.

His father, as a former racer, was the same as his son. Which was why he also took a car of his own, and considering how luxurious their tastes ran—which Aelin threw in their face every time they criticized her for the same reason—their cars reflected on it.

Each of their car was two-seats only. Aelin tried to rush for Uncle Gavriel’s car, but Dorian, Aedion’s new teammate, beat her to it. She didn’t hide her groan, turning to face her cousin.

His face was annoyed and pointed to his red car, “Get in.”

She crossed her arms, “I am not a dog. You don’t order me around.”

He rolled his eyes, “I’m not waiting, Aelin.”

“Maybe I’ll thumb a ride for the hotel.”

He snorted, opening the driver’s side door. “Sí, prima, remind me when you learned German?”

Well, he did mark a point. She had tried to learn German, Aelin praised herself with her ability to learn quite a lot of languages, but she was awful at it. It was the same with French, but brain just… didn’t register anything.

She rolled her eyes and flipped him off before climbing into the car. He closed the door behind himself and put on his seatbelt. “Don’t drive too fast,” she reminded him, her voice slightly more vulnerable.

“I never do when you’re around,” he answered, letting go of the tension ever so present in his voice since he found her. But it was gone one second after, “We’re going to the pitlane for now, I have a training session. Then Rolfe is taking the entire team to a restaurant.” William Rolfe was the head of Ferrari. Basically, Aedion had to kiss his feet every day to thank him for his spot on the team.

She shook her head even if he couldn’t see it, “I want go to the hotel.”

“No one will be there,” Aedion answered, turning left. “So, the answer is no. You’ll nap in the paddock if you’re that tired.”

“Fuck you, Aedion,” she spat. “I’m not a child.”

He didn’t answer to her jab, he only turned the music on and drove quietly to their destinations. She knew he had Uncle Gavriel on his side, and even her own mother. There was nothing to do, Aelin was to do what her cousin wished. Lysandra wasn’t even there; she would only join them in a few weeks. For the last three championship, she’d been able to work from wherever on the globe and follow her boyfriend into his expeditions. She would do the same this year, but she had important clients to meet before she could switch to online work.

“How’s your leg?”

“Fine,” was her only answer. The one she always gave when the question came up.

Aedion knew that, he sighed and his knuckles whitened around the steering wheel, but he said nothing.

Good, she wasn’t in the mood to talk. She placed her earphone in her ears and blasted her music into her ears, watching the landscapes.

She already missed Madrid and its warmth. She had to wear her coat when the plane landed, a perfectly warm coat given generously by Ferrari. She was a walking advertisement, not just for Ferrari but also for every brand who could afford it.

She looked ridiculous in bright red, especially with her large, orange pants. But she was a creature of luxury, warmth and comfort.

An hour after, Aedion’s car parked in front of the circuit. The building was huge, tall and long, built around the track. Ferrari’s logo was huge and bright on the wall, next to Mercedes’ and Red Bull’s.

“You coming?” Aedion asked, already out of the car.

It wasn’t like she truly had a choice, and they were in public anyway. The parking wasn’t full, but there were enough cars to indicate that a race was about to be performed in less than two days.

She was sure to give her cousin hell when they were in private, but now that she was twenty-two, Aelin was done with public tantrums. It brought unnecessary attention. She sighed and got out of the car, crossing her arms as she followed after Aedion.

Uncle Gavriel and Dorian had arrived ten minutes before them, probably because they were more inclined to break or brush the speed limit.

Aedion opened the red door for her, and she walked in, all her attention stolen by the different activities on going. The door on the opposite side was open, allowing them a view of the pitlane. There were stairs leading to more private rooms, one for each of the drivers and a couple of soundproof rooms for meeting and strategy.

Downstairs it was the garage, mechanics were already working either above or under the two red, racing cars. There were screens on the left side, with headsets and everything needed to maintain connection between the drivers and their strategists.

Aedion knew everyone’s name, not ignoring anyone as he saluted every single man or woman working. They all smiled warmly at him, as if it was a pleasure to work with him. He introduced her to everyone, and while she didn’t start conversations, she did wave at them and tried to remember as many names as she could.

She would spend the next months with these people, she could at least remember their name and offer them a smile. It wasn’t their fault if Aelin was locked out of her mansion in Madrid.

Aedion was the reason behind it, and even if she knew he was dragging her across the world for a good reason, she wished he would only hear her out.

Outside, on the border of the pitlane, Dorian and Uncle Gavriel were talking, the old man probably giving advices to Dorian for his first F1 season. Dorian was her age, and they’d seen each other a few times as they grew up. His father and hers had been teammates for a year or so, and then Dorian Senior changed teams.

It was the norm for the same surnames to appear on people’s televisions every twenty years or so. Racing was a very closed circle, one only men could attain, and one only privileged people were allowed to be a part of.

Driver’s sons almost always ended up being drivers themselves.

Dorian’s lips were parted around a cigarette, inhaling the toxic smoke.

Aelin rolled her eyes, “Are you even allowed to smoke?”

He shrugged and grin, his cigarette between two of his fingers as he exhaled. “Don’t girls love bad boys?”  

“To answer your question,” Uncle Gavriel and his ever-diplomatic voice took over. “It is not forbidden, though highly discouraged. Not that he listens.” His gaze slightly darkened as he looked at the youngest driver.

Uncle Gavriel wasn’t technically hired by the team, but as Aedion’s father and mentor, he acted as a coach to both drivers. He was included in every discussion for the team, and his advice was taken religiously. She supposed it was one of the advantages of winning five championships in his young days.

Gavriel retired early, at the young age of twenty-five. He could have been one of the greatest drivers of all time, he could have won ten more trophies. But the moment his wife told him she was pregnant, Gavriel backed up from the championship. Mid-season.

His family was his priority, and it also spread to his niece.

She shifted her weight on her left leg, flinching when she heard the loud sound of engine when a car drove by them less than five feet away from where they stood, one driver already training onto the track.

Dorian chuckled, “You’ll get used to the sounds.”  

Aelin was doubtful about it, but she didn’t have time to answer before a mechanic called Dorian’s name, he winked at his teammate and kissed her cheek. He ran to the mechanic standing over one of the cars.

“Where are your crutches?” Uncle Gavriel asked.

Her eyes turned murderous when she looked at him, but he didn’t back down. “I don’t need them.”

“Your leg obviously hurt,” he answered, looking down at her hidden legs. “You keep fidgeting and resting on your left one.”

“Why didn’t you tell us it hurt?” Aedion asked in a hurry. “I have your meds in my backpack, I’ll be right back in a minute.”

She couldn’t tell him off, one second later he was already gone. She rolled her eyes at him, he could be so… The reminder that she didn’t even have access to her own meds was sour in her mouth, but she’d already tried arguing. “I should have my meds on me.”

Uncle Gavriel sighed. They’d had this argument a lot these past few weeks. “He doesn’t trust you.”

“But do you?” If he did, then he could tell her resonate Aedion.

He sighed, “Where are your crutches, Aelin?”

His lack of answer was answer enough. Fuck him. Fuck everyone here. “Home,” she snapped. “I don’t need them.”

“You left them in Spain?” Gavriel asked, his eyes wide.

“Toma, coge eso, prima,” Here, take that, cousin. Aedion returned, handing her a single white pill. He didn’t even let her see the bottle. Just one fucking pill.

“Want to put that in my mouth and check I swallow?” She hissed.

“Don’t be fucking difficult,” he grilled through his teeth.

She rolled her eyes and snatched the pill, swallowing it dry. She opened her mouth and lifted her tongue before giving her cousin a snarky smile, “Happy, Doctor?”

He rolled his eyes. Throwing a look at the same car that drove past us one more time, a slight frown forming on his face. Maybe he was feeling guilty for not being on the track on time. Aedion was big on hard work, which was something no one could take away from him. He wasn’t where he stood because of his father and uncle. No, he was there because he was talented and loved it, it somehow made it scarier.

If he loved it, he was willing to take more risks.

“What about your crutches? Do you need ice or something?” He asked. Her worried cousin was back. In ten seconds, he’d be back into his snappy mood.

“I don’t need help to walk,” she snapped. “I can do it on my own, alright? The flight and car right probably just probably swelled my leg. That’s all.”

“Do you want help to—”

“No.” She breathed, closing her eyes for a second. She shouldn’t be mad when they were only trying to help. She couldn’t help it, though. She was an adult, not a child anymore. “I’ll just get upstairs and lay my leg a little.”

“That’s a good idea,” Gavriel nodded. “Aedion needs to train a little and talk to some sponsors today. Nothing worth standing for hours.”

“Thanks, dad.”

Her uncle chuckled, “She can watch your practice from your room, cub.”

Aedion rolled his eyes at the nickname his father used but the corner of his lips seemed to lift a little. “Dad’s right. Feel free to rest.”

Aelin nodded, watching as the car that had been doing laps all over the track parked in front of the Red Bull’s paddock which was the one right on the left of Ferrari’s.

Mechanics rushed to the side of the car. The driver took off his seatbelt, reaching on the side of the car to help him stand and get out of the car.

His suit was dark blue, with all the sponsors’ logos on the material. He took off his gloves before zipping down his suit, freeing his chest from the weight and protection of it and tying the selves around his waist to keep it hanging there. His shirt was long sleeved, too. How did these men not die of heat? The car in itself was a furnace, but with the suit plus the protective shirt and pants under…

She was sure she could make a fortune in deodorant for drivers. She had no wishes to be close to any of them after a race, but smell must be…

His hands were for his helmet, he undid it before taking it off and shook his head, his hair flying into the wind. His silver hair.

Something in Aelin’s stomach sank and she noticed the tattoo on his hand. She couldn’t see his arm, but she knew the black ink would run all over his arm. She could see the hint of it on his neck.

Her heart palpitated, her lips parting.

Rowan Whitethorn. One of the best drivers of their time. He came from France, had been raised there and taught how to race by his father, Julien Whitethorn. He was Aedion’s biggest rival, the one he’d lost last year’s championship to.

As if he could feel her burning gaze on him, his head whipped to her side of the paddock. His shoulder stiffened as he saw her, the already sharp lines of his face hardening.

She had known she would see him, but somehow it was harder than she expected. Two sides of her brain were at war, one wanted to run away from there, the other one lingered for a fight, to destroy what destroyed her.

Aedion turned his head, watching over where she was staring. In the corner of her vision, she could see him tense. Actually, tense would be a very naïve and nice way to describe Aedion and Rowan’s rivalry.

Hatred was more the word for it.

Aedion’s warm hand laid on her shoulder, but she didn’t look away. Neither did Rowan. A strategist, if he was to guess by the way he was dressed, was looking at his electronic tablet and talked to the driver. She didn’t know if he was listening, she wasn’t aware of anything but him.

Aedion’s arm wrapped around her shoulder and guided her back inside the paddock, breaking her eye contact with the silver-haired driver. “He is still trouble,” Aedion’s deep voice tore her out of her thoughts. “Stay away from him.”

“You think I need you to tell me that?”

“I’m worried for you,” he said, and he looked like he was. “I’m trying to protect you. I won’t let him get near you.”

She looked on her left, but there was nothing but a wall. “Let him try,” she said, tension in her voice. “He won’t regret it.”

••••••

@sheharahu // @morganofthewildfire // @thestoriesyoutell // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @swankii-art-teacher // @itsforeverinnocent-blog​ // @becarefuloflove​ // @imnotsogoodatthis​ // @rowaelinismyotp​ // @a-court-of-milkandhoney​ // @feysand-loml​ // @elentiyawhitethorn​ // @live-the-fangirl-life​ // @story-scribbler​ // @loves-books​ // @fangirlprincess09​ // @theysayitscrazy​ // @danibutterr​ // @endlessdaydream​ // @thegreyj​ // @gracie-rosee​ // @acreativelydifferentlove // @cretaceous-therapod​ // @louphantomdragon // @mis-lil-red​ // @backtobl4ck​ // @whoever-you-choose-to-love​ // @lemonade-coolattas​ // @mad-madeline-ace​ // @the-introverted-bibliophile​ // @leiawritesstories​ // @emilyoftheshadows​ // @anniesbookshelf​ // @rainbowcheetah512​ // @astra-ad-mare​ // @story-scribbler​ // @superspiritfestival​ // @wordsafterhours​ // @rowaelinrambling​ // @black-daisy-water​ // @fireheart-violet​ // @livsdriverslicense​ // @charlizeed​ // @ladykreads​ // @mariamuses​ // @autumnbabylon​

[daydreaming-in-letters]

The Banana Club Auditions

Audition 6: Lloyd “Ballsy” Hansen

07/28/2022

Pairing: stripper!Lloyd Hansen x strip club owner!reader (2nd person)

Word Count: 5,692

Warnings: knife play, (rather soft) dom!Lloyd, blindfolding, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, bodily fluids, cream pie, two slaps to the butt, beard burn

Summary: Lloyd Hansen has been warmly recommended to you by his cousin Ransom, but when he tries to sneak a knife into your club, you decide to put his moves to the test—extra thoroughly.

A/N: Disclaimer: No oranges were harmed in the process of writing this audition. It can't be guaranteed that Lloyd will refrain from setting your panties on fire.

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. Please don’t copy, repost or share my work on other platforms. 

Audition song: Crazy in Love by Sofia Karlberg

Lloyd Hansen was trouble. You knew that long before Bruce, your usually friendly giant of a bouncer, pushed him through the door to your office, holding him by the collar of his woollen coat with one of his massive paws. The meaty fingers of his other hand were firmly clutched around an object that was impossible to identify between them. And as if that wasn’t enough already to send all your senses into alarm mode in an instant, Walter’s curly head came into view as well. His massive shoulders filled the doorway effortlessly, dark eyes fixed on the culprit while Bruce shoved him over to your desk and pushed him down into one of the empty chairs. 

“Boss, this one claims to have an appointment with you. Says his name is—”

“Lloyd Hansen.” You smirked, letting the juicy orange you had been planning to indulge yourself with fall from one hand into the other. This man didn’t need an introduction. He was the spitting image of his cousin Ransom, who had recommended him to you. They could be brothers, maybe even twins, were it not for the different hairstyles and the striking moustache that decorated Lloyd’s upper lip. But the defiant look in his raging blue eyes held the same silent judgement.

“Is this the way you welcome all your guests or is this is a special treatment for possible new employees?” His voice was perfectly calm while he smoothed out the creases in the sleeves of his black coat. 

There was no need to bother yourself with answering his cocky question. The grumpy grizzly bear in the doorway already did that for you. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, Hansen. This is simply the standard treatment for every regular asshole that tries to sneak a knife into this club.” 

“A knife?” Slowly you set the orange down on the waiting plate, watching as Lloyd’s pink lips pressed together tightly. “You disappoint me, Mr Hansen. I invited you into my office today so you could show me your moves and the very first one you choose to impress me with is this?” You leaned forward, opening your hand for Bruce to drop the object he had taken from your guest into your palm. “Such a pretty little thing. It will take a bit more to impress me though.” You lowered your head in the slightest nod and Bruce got the hint, making his way over to the door. Walter stepped aside to let him through, but it took another long gaze and a slow blink of your eyes before he was convinced you would be fine on your own. Without a sound, the door fell closed behind him, leaving only you and Lloyd and the subtle air of danger that clung to him like a shadow.

“Still, I wonder what Ransom must have told you about me that you thought it necessary to arm yourself.”

He sank against the backrest of his chair, crossing his legs, his fingers interlacing in his lap, painting a picture perfect image of a relaxed man. But he couldn’t fool you. He was still on edge, ready to switch into combat mode anytime if provoked.

“Maybe I’ll tell you one day.” His lips spread into a raunchy smile that sent a shiver down your spine. “Or maybe it has nothing to do with what Ransom told me at all. Maybe I’m just a kinky fucker who enjoys some knife play and likes being prepared should the occasion present itself.”

His moustache twitched with amusement, probably expecting a treacherous sign of your piqued state anytime soon. 

“Hm,” you mused, laying it on thick when your fingers fondled the butterfly knife tenderly, “what an intriguing thought, Mr Hansen.”

“Please,” his arms flew open in a gesture of generosity, “since you’re obviously already imagining me balls deep inside of you, pressing the cool blade of that knife to your aching flesh, you might as well call me Lloyd.”

You mimicked his smug smile. “Very well then, Lloyd. But let me make one thing very clear. If you want to work for me, it will take more than a sassy mouth and a few saucy remarks to meet my expectations, however much I enjoy them.” The weight of the cool metal heavy between your fingers, your smile slowly died away. Your eyes never left his face, watching with the utmost satisfaction as his gaze was pulled towards the knife the second your thumb flicked the lock open. With a movement too fast for the eye to catch up, you flipped it expertly and Lloyd’s grin finally faltered as the blade twinkled before your face with a silent promise. For a second you allowed yourself to hope he would twitch as you pointedly sank it into the innocent citrus fruit, but he didn’t. Yet there was something about his eyes that seemed to shift while the silvery metal slid into the fruit’s skin with ease and vanished from view. 

Your voice didn’t leave any room for disobedience as you spoke again. “Now, get your ass off that chair and show me how ballsy you really are.”

“You know, I’m not used to being ordered around like that.” And yet he moved, making a full spectacle of getting up, every fibre of his body speaking clearly of his unwillingness.

“Then this will be the perfect opportunity for you to learn something new today.”

He huffed as the dry smile returned to his lips, but he didn’t utter another word of objection. Slowly he shrugged out of his black coat, careful to avoid the seam from making contact with the floor before he folded it neatly and laid it across the backrest of the chair next to the one he had been sitting in. He took his own sweet time, all part of his strategy, no doubt. And it worked, drawing your eyes to his massive biceps that strained the black hem of his polo shirt as he worked. Letting your gaze wander, it soon fixed on his impressive pecs that seemed to test the stretchability of the fabric just as much. It had been a mistake to allow yourself such an extensive view, you realised as the movement of the black and white pattern made you slightly dizzy. 

With the instincts of a predator, your display of weakness, however infinitesimal it was, hadn’t escaped him. You could tell from the spark of gratification that flitted across his eyes. But he knew better than to call you out for it. There were far more pleasing ways to show you who you were dealing with. 

With the first notes of the song he moved, slowly, pointedly, the intensity of his eye contact unsettling you in the best possible way. It was obvious the talent ran in the family. His dancing was immaculate, as was his physique. Lloyd Hansen left nothing to chance, he was a perfectionist, like his cousin. From his matching outfit to his meticulously trimmed chest hair and rippling muscles, everything about him invited you to feast your eyes on him. No, demanded it. Yet, he was never even the tiniest bit eager to please, moving with the swaggering nonchalance of a prized stallion, as if his dance pleased him, and him alone. 

You would have liked to say his cocksure behaviour left you unfazed, but it didn’t. And neither would it fail the audience. 

“Stop.” 

Irritation replaced his self-exaltation before it could grow into a full blown megalomania and he stilled. You enjoyed the hint of insecurity behind his defiant eyes as you pulled the knife from the orange. Now it was your turn to put on a show. Dramatically you rose from your seat, basking in his blatant stare that used the first chance to rake along your form from head to toe as you rounded your desk. You allowed yourself the same freedom as you made yourself comfortable against the dark wood, thorough eyes scanning his bare form, lingering indecently long on the only spot that was still shielded to you by a tight pair of black boxer briefs. 

By the time your eyes found his again, the fury that possessed his blue orbs was unmistakable. He hated to be left in the dark about the reason for your sudden interruption, hated that you made him wait, just as much as you hated to deliver him from his agony now.

“You’re hired.” His chest puffed up, he didn’t even try to hide how pleased he was with himself. Good, you thought, the perfect opportunity to begin the second act. “The stache will have to go though.” If you had blinked, you would have missed the exact second he lost control over his face. But then he pulled himself together, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “Look, it’s nothing personal. But I already have a performer with a moustache. And it’s frankly impossible to come even close to its supremacy.”

He was fuming, judging by the pulsing veins that popped up on both sides of his neck by now. You knew it would have been wise to stop aggravating him, but there was something utterly exciting about getting under Lloyd Hansen’s skin. Your instincts told you to run as he began to move, but the pulsing heat in your core made you stay put, eager to feel his body pressed up against yours, his quickening breath scorching your skin. 

To your great dismay your hopes were annihilated as he stopped a few inches away from you, caging you in between his chest and the desk without touching a single inch of your burning form.  It may have been your disappointment or the last shred of your survival instinct that made you raise the knife in your hand until the blade pressed flatly to the sharp line of his jaw. Either way, it was impossible to tell through the haze of adrenaline that clouded your mind.

He stayed perfectly still, his eyes boring into you as he pressed out his proposition through gritted teeth without moving his jaw a single inch. “I bet I could convince you otherwise.”

“Could you now?” You watched the challenging sparkle of your eyes reflect in his own as you slowly pulled the blunt edge of the blade along his jaw. Both of you holding your breaths, the only sound that filled the strained silence was the scraping noise of metal against the lightest sheen of stubble that covered his freshly shaved skin. And then, for the first and probably last time tonight, Lloyd Hansen flinched as the knife spiralled through the air and landed back in your hand, the handle extended towards his dumbfounded form. “Show me.”

Lloyd worked fast, his weight pressing into you while he snatched the knife from your hand, his other arm diving through the gap between your arm and your waist, pulling you even closer until he could reach the nape of your neck to grab a handful of your silk scarf. With a harsh pull that took your breath away he tugged the fabric away and let his mouth take possession of your newly revealed skin. His tongue pressed down on your pulse harshly, licking a long stripe all the way up your neck, along the line of your jaw before it conquered your mouth. Your lips still open from the gasp his attack had coaxed from you, the adamant muscle slipped into your mouth with ease, muffling the noise of your intuitive protest. But the cool touch of metal that suddenly connected with your neck in the very same spot his tongue had tasted you mere seconds ago made you still in his arms at once.

He took his time devouring you properly and when he finally drew away, you knew you would find a shit-eating grin on his face even before your eyes managed to focus again. 

“I see you are a fast learner, sunshine. Good for you. Now, I will need you to do exactly as I say. No sudden movements, no flinching, no pulling away. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you piped up, and it didn’t need the slight movement of your throat to remind you of the sharp blade that still pressed down on your pulse point.

“Good girl.” Lloyd was in his element now, the arousal of the power play written all over his smug face. “Now hold still for me.”

He drew away in slow motion, loosening his hold on you gradually until he stood upright again. The knife vanished from your skin as well, the only thing left to keep you in place was his commanding stare, and yet you didn’t dare do anything but draw in shallow breaths.

Sure fingers grabbed hold of the seam of your blouse, straightening the line of shiny buttons before they were joined by the blade. Button after button fell to the floor as it sliced through the threads that held them in place. A whiff of cool air drifted over your newly exposed skin as Lloyd let go of the white cotton and placed the knife between his teeth to free both of his hands. But it wasn’t until his fingers dove underneath the fabric to push it off your shoulders that goosebumps began to cover your whole body.

Proud of the visible effect he had on you, he traced the tiny bumps that covered the bare parts of your breasts. Starting at your sternum, the pleasant sting of the blade’s pointy edge drew a curve along your pliable flesh until it reached the first strap. 

“I hope this isn’t your favourite bra,” he smirked devilishly, slicing through the barrier without waiting for your answer. 

“It is not,” you managed to confirm right before he repeated his action with the other strap. “It was quite expensive though.”

You weren’t sure if he had cared to listen to you. His eyes transfixed on your chest, he probably pondered the new possibilities instead. But then his grin grew an impossible notch wider and you knew your words had finally reached their destination.

“Well, you should have said that earlier. I’m afraid it’s too late now.” His voice was full of fake regret, the wrinkles around his eyes speaking of the true amusement he drew from the scene. 

It certainly wasn’t the best idea you had ever had, but his delight was too tempting not to mess with it. “Not too late to deduct it from your first salary.”

He moved like lightning, hooking his finger into the front of your bra to pull you closer. You gasped in surprise, your body freezing as you felt the knife’s point boring into the skin between two of your ribs. Not enough to break it, but enough to remind you not to threaten the man with the knife.

“Careful, sweetheart,” his lips were so close you could feel them move against your own. “You don’t want my fingers to slip, do you?”

“No.” Your voice was nothing more but a shaky, pathetic whisper and you almost choked on your own breath when you heard the sharp whooshing sound as the blade swished through the air, Lloyd’s lips on your own distracting you until you could feel the soft pressure of your bra subside. Incredulously you stared down your bared front, your nipples hardening instantly under his ravenous look. 

“Excellent.” He took a step back before he sank to one knee in front of you. His left hand found your ankle blindly, gliding up your smooth calf while he monitored you closely. As soon as his fingers reached the low end of your skirt, they left your skin and grabbed hold of the dark, woven material instead. “Shall we proceed?”

You nodded although you could feel your heart speed up further inside your chest. It went against every last bit of reason, but however ludicrous is might seem, somehow you trusted him. 

His eyes finally left yours to fully concentrate on the task at hand now, and your gaze followed them. In awe you watched the blade slitting through your skirt, gradually nearing the junction of your thighs. He would surely cut you, the thought raced through your mind, and in the rush of rising panic you forgot how to breathe. A whimper escaped your lips, eyes shut tightly as your body awaited the inevitable pain. But it never came.

Instead a sharp ripping sound echoed through the room, followed by a deep chuckle as the remains of your skirt were dragged away from around your hips. 

“Breathe, sweetcheeks.”

The order was simple enough, yet it turned out he demanded the impossible as his fingers dug into your thighs, the flat outline of the knife clearly palpable against your flesh, before he pressed his nose to the last piece of clothing left on your body and inhaled your rich scent deeply. Slowly the tip of his nose dragged upwards until it met your bare skin again. Prickly whiskers followed in its wake, teasing the softness of your abdomen.

Your lungs still refused to obey his wish and it seemed more unlikely with every goddamned move of his that they would ever remember their designated task. Cold air suddenly flooded the confinement of your panties, but before your brain had processed what was happening, the cruel sting of the elastic hem made your eyes fly open again with a gasp.

“I said breathe.”

You were just about to hiss a fitting answer when the memory of the reaction your last remark had brought about resurfaced and you thought better of it.

“Yes,” you panted breathlessly, “I’m sorry.”

“You certainly will be if you keep refusing to do as I tell you. Now,” he paused dramatically, allowing you to watch the knife slide in between your hip and the thin strap that held your panties in place, “for the last time, stay still.”

Fibre by fibre he worked his way through the material until at last the two ends of the freshly cut strap sprang aside with a snap. With a wolfish grin he moved over to the other side and repeated his torturous ceremony. A deep growl rumbled through his chest as the loose triangle finally lost its battle with gravity and unveiled your mound to him. Eager to seize his prize his fingers closed around the wrecked piece of clothing and began to pull. You couldn’t help but moan as it glided along your folds and he certainly wasn’t in a hurry to end the litany of sweet sounds from your lips anytime soon. 

But as soon as he had freed his trophy, he clutched it tightly in his large hand and brought it to his face. He inhaled deeply, moaning as if he had just smelled the most exquisite scent on earth. 

“You spoil me, sweetheart. I think it might be time for a little reward.”

With a few flicks of his wrist the blade of the knife was safely stowed away inside the handle again and he set it down on the desk beside you together with his severed souvenir as he stood. 

“Come here,” he purred, letting his hands cup your cheeks to press a tender kiss to your lips. “You’ve been such a good girl for me. And good girls deserve to enjoy a bit of pleasure.”

Strong arms wrapped around your middle to hoist you up onto the desk, luring a sharp hiss from your lips the moment your moist heat made contact with the cool mahogany. You were reluctant to let go of him, to part from the sensation of his shoulders flexing underneath your fingers as they worked. You also enjoyed the newfound nearness of his body and used your chance to take a detailed look at him. He was even more gorgeous from up close, especially the two pools of icy blue that were currently focussed on his own hands somewhere behind your back. You were just about to admire his neatly cut hair, pondering whether he would allow you to touch the short stubble on both sides of his head, when the world suddenly faded to black before your eyes. 

He had taken you completely off guard and for a moment your instincts took control and tried to fight him off. But he caught your wrists in an iron grip as soon as the scarf he had repurposed as a blindfold was in place, incapacitating you very effectively.

“Sh, sh, sh,” he shushed you, and you hated the power his lulling tone had over you. “Remember it was you who asked me to show you. And I will do my part. But I need you to do yours as well.”

Slowly he let go of your wrists and they fell to your sides.

“Good.” His lips pressed to your forehead in a fleeting kiss. “Now relax, sweetheart.”

One hand cupped the back of your neck while the other pushed against your chest until you finally relented and allowed him to guide you down onto your desk. He granted you a moment to breathe and get comfortable before he let go of your neck. His other hand stayed in place though, safely anchored to the valley of your breasts for a few more seconds before it began to move as well. You thought you were going crazy as he let it glide along your stomach, one finger dipping into your navel on its way down to your aching core. At least you hoped that was where he was headed, but again you had been fooled by his agonising movements as he diverted his course last minute to continue his way along your thigh. It wasn’t before he had reached your knee that his other hand decided to join in and with one swift motion he pushed your legs apart to make room for himself.

It was impossible to hold back the heady moan that broke free upon the feeling of his semi-hard member that pressed against your crevice and for once you were glad you were spared the sight of the wicked smile that surely graced his lips by now.

“Ah, I see. But not yet. Not yet.”

One hand must have left your heated flesh judging from the metallic clanking that hit your ears as Lloyd readied the knife for action again. But how were you supposed to tell for sure when a roll of his hips against your needy sex forced all the remaining blood from your head down into your loins at once?

You felt him move, still it was a wonder you didn’t flinch. He was so close all of a sudden, his chest probably mere inches from your own, impertinent whiskers tickling your ear when he gave his final warning.

“Whatever happens now, don’t move.”

And as soon as silence settled over the room again, cold steel found your clavicle. You felt the strong urge to voice the excitement his actions sparked inside you, wanted to moan and whimper for him, sigh his name unashamedly, but you held back, safe in the knowledge that there would come a point when you wouldn’t be able to silence yourself any longer.

It was agony, the sweet pain he unleashed on his way south until he had found the object of his desire. Slowly he drew circles around your areola, gradually closing in on the sensitive bud that had pebbled under his careful ministrations. And with a single press of the blade he broke your restraint.

You gasped, just once, while your body was striving so hard to remain still. But Lloyd was far from finished with you, turning your measly gasp into a wanton moan the second his mouth decided to join in. It was ruthless in its attack, licking, sucking, biting your nipple while he kept on teasing the other with his knife. 

This was insufferable, the fight against your own instincts far worse than anything he could ever do to you. Or so you thought. You keened, a sound that broke from the depths of your tortured soul, as his hand found your throbbing sex. Without mercy his fingers slid into the heart of your femininity to tend to the tiny pearl that awaited him eagerly. Lloyd certainly knew what he was doing, setting the perfect rhythm and providing just the right amount of pressure, letting his fingers glide down through the slick moisture every now and then to tease your tight hole.

You were aching to move, to writhe and wriggle underneath him, to raise your hips for more friction the longer he worked you and you thought you might lose your mind when his lips deserted your breast and set out to wander south. Greedy kisses scorched the supple skin of your stomach, his whiskers scratching and stinging your softness so wonderfully. 

You were just about to throw all caution to the wind, your fingers already lifting off the desk to find his hair when the blade moved as well, dragging along your breast and down to your ribs, leaving a trail of pleasure and pain. A deep growl wafted across your abdomen in a warning, the vibration reaching deep inside your core, and you couldn’t help it anymore.

“Please,” you whined pathetically and when your plea caused his lips and hands to leave your body instead of finally helping you find release, the first stream of tears began to soak the scarf that deprived you of his delicious sight. 

You needed him, needed his hands and mouth on you, needed him to silence that maddening want. It was absurd, but you felt it would surely be the death of you if he left you simmering in this purgatory of indulgence and denial any longer. 

And for once, he seemed to take pity on his prey and answered your silent prayers. You cried out in ecstasy as his mouth crushed down on your impatient sex without a warning, a pair of strong hands grabbing your thighs to pull you further into him. Every flick, every stroke, every slurp and moan against you was heaven. He knew as well, he must have, sensing your nearing release like a bloodhound. Why else did he choose to intensify his torture, to let his tongue glide down to your entrance and into the heat of your fluttering walls so his moustache would brush up and down that sensitive little nub and send you right over the edge?

A triumphant chuckle was drowned out by the rhapsodic scream of his name that shook the room as you quivered and trembled in the waves of your high. Delirious fingers finally found the dark strands of hair at the crown of his head, keeping him in place while the sweet shocks kept on coming. A gesture that wouldn’t have been necessary at all, as Lloyd seemed to have no intention to stop before he hadn’t lapped up every last drop of precious nectar he had coaxed from you. 

Still your honeyed taste seemed to leave him hungrier than before, his lips and whiskers dragging along the inside of your thigh, your knee, your calf and ankle until he stood. Fervent arms wrapped around your limp torso, hoisting you off the desk and up against his chest. Hot puffs of ragged breath crawled over your skin, carrying the spicy scent of your release that drove you wild with the need to taste yourself on his lips. Blindly your mouth searched for his and you still felt the amused grin when you finally found it. 

Passionately your lips moved with his, your body burning in a fever only he could cure while he manoeuvred you around until you found yourself straddling his lap. You guessed he had positioned you both in the chair Bruce had made him sit in earlier, but there was no way you could tell for sure. His grip on you slowly loosening, his hands were free to roam every inch of your body they desired, still they both radiated towards your behind, squeezing and kneading your cheeks ardently before his frenzy crescendoed in a loud slap and a harsh sting that made your breath stutter in your throat.

“Move for me, sweetcheeks. Use that tight pussy to make me come.”

You wasted no time to push yourself up a little and let your hand glide all the way along the waves of his chest and stomach and in between your bodies to free what until now you had only felt pressed against your mound from its confinement. He hummed in appreciation as your fingers ventured into his boxer briefs, wrapped around his length and stroked him gently. But it seemed he was keener to feel you than he let on when his fingers soon joined yours and pushed the fabric as far down as possible. And you knew only too well the feeling that possessed him the second his tip parted your folds and pressed against your pulsing entrance. 

Frantic fingers digging into the soft flesh that covered your hips, he pulled you onto him in one go, making you yelp in surprise as his girth stretched your pussy to the limit. His own groan came simultaneously, a low, drawn out sound he was quick to muffle in the crook of your neck.

“Believe me, it will be better for both of us if I don’t have to repeat myself.” You could feel his lips move against your skin.

A squeeze so hard you were sure it would leave a memento on your skin finally forced you into compliance and with the first roll of your hips his hold on you loosened again. 

“Yes, just like that, sweetheart. Nice and slow. Move those hips for me.”

Maybe it was meant as a reward for your obedience or he finally remembered the purpose of this endeavour, you didn’t care. You didn’t care about anything at all anymore the moment his mouth began to spoil you. His lips, his tongue, teeth and whiskers were all over you. He licked your neck, bit your shoulders, suckled your breasts, leaving more pleasure and pain wherever he navigated them until your skin felt completely raw from the scrape of his moustache. 

“Faster,” he demanded as his hand flew down on your behind again and you sped up your hips immediately. But however fast you went, it was obvious your efforts didn’t meet his expectations and so he lifted you off of him, only a little, just enough to thrust up into you in a menacing pace. You howled his name in pure desire as he hit deep, finding the spot that made your head spin on every single way in and out. You needed to ground yourself, to hold on to something while he had his way with you and so your hands fisted his hair again while he made you bounce helplessly on his thick cock.

“Yes, fuck me, Lloyd,” you heard your own treacherous mouth beg. “Fuck me harder.”

An incomprehensible curse left his lips, still he did as you had asked of him. You didn’t know what you had expected him to do, obviously not that he would hook his arms behind your knees and bring you up with him as he stood. You held onto him for dear life, feeling his strained breaths hot on your shoulder while he slammed into you, flesh slapping against flesh, sweat collecting wherever your bodies met. It was too much, the pleasure he incited, and still you craved more. Yearned for his grunts, his hard muscles underneath your fingertips, the thunder of his heart against your own, every last bit of your being longing for the one thing he hadn’t given you yet. 

But it seemed Lloyd Hansen was more generous than you had anticipated and soon you felt the telltale signs of the ultimate gift he would grant you. You felt the final tensing of his muscles against your stomach, his manhood stretching you an impossible inch further before he let go. With a mighty roar he came, hips finally stilling to coat your walls with his lavish present. 

He was still panting heavily when he slowly lowered you onto your desk again. And this time it was him who sought the taste of your lips. The soft motion of his mouth felt unusually gentle compared to the stinging burns the caress of his whiskers had left all over your body. Tender fingers welcomed you back to the world of the seeing as they finally pulled the blindfold from your eyes. His other hand found your cheek, tracing the outline of your swollen lips while a pair of blue orbs, visibly softened by the afterglow of his high, observed you closely. 

It was almost affectionate, the way he rested his forehead against yours, but just like before, you wouldn’t let him fool you. He was lying in wait, barely even maintaining his composed facade as he readied himself for your verdict. 

He couldn’t hide the treacherous twitch of his still impossibly hard arousal inside you when your thumb glided across the defendant on his upper lip. 

“You know,” you allowed yourself a moment to revel in the torment your unnecessary pause caused him, “I hate to admit it, but your little trash stache is really beginning to grow on me. I might be swayed to let you keep it. For now.”

The short glimmer of elation died away as quickly as it had appeared and the odd phrasing of your words caused his eyes to narrow.

“I’m sorry, I think I may have misheard you. Did you just say you might be swayed to let me keep it?”

“Indeed I did.”

You bared your teeth in a wry smile and he needed to close his eyes and take a deep breath to keep his frustration at bay.

“And, just to avoid future misunderstandings, what will it take to actually sway you?”

“Oh I think you know exactly what it will take, Lloyd.” Furious eyes bore into you as you grasped his chin and squeezed it fondly. “And now be a good boy and hand me that knife, sunshine.”

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[calumxkisses]

Sweet Creature | c.h.

pairing: calum hood x reader

genre: angst to fluff

warnings: i think implied smut?

summary: request - Heeyyy, can you do one, where they have a big fight and they are in quarentine, and they stop talking to each other, and the sleep in different rooms, with cal... kiss from brazil 🇧🇷

a/n: this is one of my favorite song! let me know what you think about it! i hope you enjoyed it ;)

you should read this imagine while listening to: sweet creature

➳

“What the hell is wrong with you?” a scream comes out of your lungs. Your face has turned red, your head hurts and you feel your heart pounding. Your throat is now dry and you feel your nails sticking into the palm of your hand.

What Calum notices, however, are the tears running down your face and the pain behind your eyes. What hurts him the most, though, is knowing he is the cause of your pain. He would like to hug you, tell you that he is sorry, that he loves you and that he doesn't even remember why you are fighting, but his pride prevents him from being the person he would like to be. The person you are in love with.

“All you do is whine.” he screams out, rolling his eyes and letting out a snort.

This discussion was the straw that broke the camel's back, filled by being forced to stay at home, by a canceled tour and canceled parties but, above all, by the concern of a world that is in chaos, with a fatal virus that spreads like wildfire.

He is worried, he feels the burden of not having to disappoint anyone, of being a good person who says the right things, of being a child who cares about their parents who live on the other side of the world and cannot go to visit, reassure, and that he can only see through a mobile phone screen.

“I have a right to be angry, you know that, right?” Your voice calms down a bit, but anger still runs through your veins. You walk up and down the room, with one hand on your forehead and being careful not to step on the broken glass of the fallen vase.

Calum has spent the last few weeks in the studio, out in the garden practicing, or locked in a room, anywhere but with you. He preferred to wake up early and go to sleep late, feel cold instead of holding you and skipping meals to avoid being with you.

For the first time in days, you get a good look at him: his hair has grown, as has the beard surrounding his face, he has terrible dark circles and the vein on his neck comes out prosperous, underlining how much he is screaming.

You felt abandoned, alone, left on the sidelines, and your feelings were amplified by the impossibility of going to someone, just to escape from that situation, to be held by someone else or just to talk over a coffee with a friend.

The only thing you could have done, was to ask him why, what you had done to deserve such treatment, and to spend some time together. And that��s where the scream started.

Tears roll down your face and you run your hand under your eyes to wipe them away. If you didn't notice them before, now the pinch caused by their wake has become hard to ignore.

“Are you going to cry now? God, you’re making me regret being with you. I really wish you weren’t born.”

Calum feels the pain it caused you before even reading the expression on your face. He puts his hand in front of his mouth in hopes of being able to block the words, but they have already left his lips and have come straight into your ears, getting stuck under your skin and breaking even the last pieces of the broken heart you have left.

His words hit you like a bolt from the blue. Arguing often leads to saying unthinkable words and among all the things you've been yelling at each other in the last hour, some bad words have certainly escaped, but nothing so terrible.

You feel a pain in your chest never felt before, deep and intense, and even the tears stop flowing. You inhale deeply, seeking relief in a breath of air and waiting for your body to react in any way, all is better than feeling full of pain. The room starts spinning, your head feels full and empty at the same time, and your legs struggle to bear the weight of your body.

Calum carefully scans your face, looking for any reaction from you to understand how much your mind has absorbed his words. His stress, his worries have led him to be a different person and the fear that you may leave him has terrified him, but his insecurities have done the opposite of what one expects, making he walk away from you and treating you coldly, and now he fears that he is really on the verge of being alone, with his broken heart in his hands, ready to mend every wound himself.

You didn’t deserve this.

“I can’t do this anymore. Not with you.” You whisper, lifting your face and looking him straight in the eye. The words he used, the coldness of his tones and the loneliness in which he left you have piled on top of each other on your chest, making it difficult for you to even breathe. You need time, space, whatever helps you figure out what to do.

“What do you mean?” He asks in a shaky voice. His eyes are glossy, his hands are shaking and his face has lost color. His heart carries so much goodness and you know it wasn't his intention to hurt you, but his words were like stab wounds and you need to take care of them now.

You don't want to leave, and not because you can't take a plane, but because Calum means too much to you and leaving is not an option to consider. If it ever ends up between you, after all you've been through, it should be in a more dignified way and not because of a stupid fight and insincere words.

“I’m going to sleep in the guest room for a while and then we’ll see what to do.” Is all you can say and all you can do.

“So you’re not leaving?”

“I don’t think so, at least not now.”

Silence.

And that silence means everything and nothing.

You pick up the pieces of your shattered heart and, after casting one last look at the boy in front of you, you take refuge in a room that doesn't belong to you. The air in the guest room is different, you can't breathe the love that characterizes every corner of yours and Calum's and even the sheets seem different, cold, painful. You put a hand through your hair and lean on the door, slowly sliding towards the floor and letting go of your frustration.

Calum closes his eyes and puts his hands to his face as his body slumps onto the sofa behind him. The house reigns in silence, the only audible sound is your sobs in another room and, before he knows it, he starts crying too. He doesn't care about wiping his face or stopping the moans that come out of his mouth, he deserves to feel awful and humiliate himself like that, the guilt is devouring him and he just thinks about how he wishes he could disappear, to make your life easier.

When you first met, he knew you were the right person from the first look you gave him. Behind your eyes, deep in the irises, there was a whole world, made of kindness, love and joy. You had your demons, but the strength you emanated made it clear that you were able to overcome them, even without knowing it. A world that he wanted to discover, with delicacy and patience, and in which he wanted to live.

But what he feared most was bringing darkness into the light you emanated, turning your smiles into tears and your heart into a mass of sharp pieces.

He had told you, while you were eating some heated pizza on a rainy morning, your legs were on his and your face on his shoulder. And you had caressed his face, wiping away the dirt on his lip with your thumb, assuring him that you would have love him anyway and that you would have happily shared some of your light, and then you had kissed him, and that kiss tasted like tomato sauce and love, a combination you still love with all your heart.

And now, the only thing he can do, besides pitying himself, is wondering if you're regretting sharing your joy with him, if you'd rather stay full of light instead of welcoming his demons. And he fears your answer is yes.

Duke rubs his face on his leg, asking for scratches but also showing his affection. He doesn't know what happened and Calum wonders if the dog, who loves you more than any other person has crossed the threshold of your home, would look at him differently knowing that he broke the heart of the person he loves most.

If so, as his mind is trying to convince him, he couldn't handle it. He would not be able to live knowing that he has let down another being he cares about. Because he cares about you, but it is difficult for him to show it, the fear of rejection is stronger than he would like.

So, he lowers himself a little and gently strokes the dog, hoping to be able to receive that affection he is so afraid of losing.

As Calum's world shatters before his eyes, you take care to gently reassemble what's left of yours. You're still on the floor, getting up takes too much energy and a motivation that you can't find.

How you feel about the guy down the hall cannot be described in words, there is no way to describe what his gaze makes you feel, the way his words reassure you or how his love warms your heart up. It just works like this. Your love does not need big gestures or difficult words and never like now, it is better to absorb the silence and be lulled by the air.

Perhaps it would have been better to remain silent, let the cold of his words slip on you and learn to live in the loneliness in which he left you, but you couldn't go on like this. Not fighting would have meant not caring about him or your relationship and that's exactly the opposite of how things are. He had to know how you felt and what you were missing.

The sweet sound of his voice or the warmth of his skin are essential for you, not only on a love level, but in the daily routine of your life. A routine that had changed, which was no longer full of joy and smiles, light and perfume, but of demons that wandered undeterred around the walls of your home, ready to bring the cold into your souls.

And that routine, once full of love, was now non-existent. No more words had been said between you, no meal had been eaten together and your bed had forgotten what love meant. The stars, ever present witnesses of the passion that surrounded your bodies, were now always absent, covered by gray clouds and black skies. Even the moon, which guards all lovers, shone with a paler and more blurred light.

The moon gave way to the sun, the grass grew and the days alternated on the calendar. And yet, it seemed to you that you were still still that afternoon. Sure, breathing had become less difficult and the tears had stopped flowing on your face, but even in the middle of spring the coldness brought chills on your body.

You have no idea what he is doing, occasionally you see the shadow of his shoes behind the door of the guest room or you hear broken melodies coming from the studio, but his face becomes more and more unknown.

You spend your days studying, working, playing with Duke or reading your favorite books. You wake up late and go to sleep early, hoping to feel less lonely.

The truth, however, is that you miss him immensely, like water in the desert or milk after eating spicy food. You need to be able to get lost in his eyes or just hold his hand. The headache meds don't work like his kisses on your forehead, and no number of blankets could bring you the same warmth that a hug from him gives off.

You feel so pathetic to need him by your side, but after so many years of loneliness, he was able to convince you that you were worthy of being loved just like everyone else and, specifically, that he would love you more than anyone else. And he had done it, always and anyway, for the sake of the joyful news and the bad of your depression, he had always been there, ready to show you that you were worth it.

He wants to do it, he wants to continue to hold you and to tell you how beautiful you are, how honored he feels to be the keeper of your heart and the champion of your love, but he believes that no apology would bring serenity to your sky.

What is he supposed to do? No words would express the humiliation he feels whenever he thinks back to your fight and his behavior, no hug or kiss would bring love into your broken heart.

He spent his nights awake, the insomnia caused by his thoughts was making it impossible for him to live. The table seemed too big and the bed too uncomfortable, the bass was always out of tune even as he spent hours adjusting its strings and no melody seemed catchy enough to lift your mood in the other room. He knew that when you were sick, listening to him play brought some peace to your troubled world, but now no sound would chase the bad weather away.

None of his gestures would be enough to show how bad he feels. Nothing can express the pain he feels and the regret of his words.

However, 3 years of relationship is enough for him to know what makes you smile. There is one song in particular, in the immense repertoire that is your music library, that you love to hum and listen to when the silence is too loud.

So, wearing his best shirt and trying to fix the clump of his hair, he sits down at the piano in the living room and, after taking a deep breath, he tries to voice his thoughts.

Sweet creature

Had another talk about where it's going wrong

But we're still young

We don't know where we're going

But we know where we belong

And oh we started

Two hearts in one home

It's hard when we argue

We're both stubborn

I know, but oh

As you put down your favorite book after reading it again, Calum's sweet, broken voice spreads throughout the house, bringing a sense of comfort to your heart. You can hear the pain behind his voice, and even though you know your wounds will take some time to heal, the words he screamed at you lose their value. One part of you is still angry but the other, curious and in love, wastes no time getting you out of bed and walking towards the room.

The piano overlooks the garden, the sun shines above and illuminates all the plants. Duke is chasing a butterfly, its tail wags quickly and some leaves are stuck in its fur. Calum has his back to you, his back leaning slightly forward as he looks outward, but his mind wanders somewhere else.

You lean on the door jamb that separates the two rooms and close your eyes, letting yourself be carried away by the music and breathing regularly, giving your body respite from all the accumulated stress.

Sweet creature, sweet creature

Wherever I go, you bring me home

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road, you bring me home

Sweet creature

We're running through the garden

Oh, where nothing bothered us

But we're still young

I always think about you and how we don't speak enough

Calum watches the garden as the lyrics of the song automatically come out of his mouth. He was never good at playing the piano but, during the nights spent away from you over the years, he promised himself to learn all your favorite songs so he could sing them to you whenever you needed them.

And while Duke rolls around in the grass, he can't help but think about the thousand picnics you had on that same lawn, the laughter you shared and all those moments when he always fell in love a little more looking at you.

And even if the song doesn't belong to him, he can still feel every single word and a small tear falls down his face.

And oh we started

Two hearts in one home

I know, it's hard when we argue

We're both stubborn

I know, but oh

Sweet creature, sweet creature

Wherever I go, you bring me home

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road, you bring me home

You take a few steps forward and, after taking a deep sigh, sit next to him. Calum winces at the contact but his face turns into a big smile after seeing you. He doesn't know if you're still mad at him or if his singing worked, but being able to see you again after so many days spent in agony brings a sense of peace to his messed up world. He knows that this song is not enough, that he will have to prove a lot more to you - even if you will probably forbid it - but knowing that he has you there, frees him from a weight that he carried inside.

And as usual, there is no need for words, he just needs to feel your head resting on his shoulder to know that you have come back to him. And when your hands touch his, he feels at home again.

Almost automatically, your hands begin to move to the rhythm of the music and your fingers touch the keys of the piano, accompanying Calum in the melody, just as he taught you.

Duke is rolling in the grass, the butterfly now forgotten, and his happy face is illuminated by the sun. It seems that the sky has returned to shine too, not just your eyes, and the pieces of the puzzle fit together perfectly again.

I know when we started

Just two hearts in one home

It gets harder when we argue

We're both stubborn

I know, but oh

Sweet creature, sweet creature

Wherever I go, you bring me home

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road, you bring me home

You'll bring me home

There was no need to talk to him, or to explain, risking losing you was necessary for him to understand that something was wrong, that he had to find the right path, that you can risk skidding, the important thing is getting back on track.

“I am grateful to your mother for bringing you into the world, but even more grateful to you for being a part of my life. I'm sorry for what I said, I didn’t mean it. I love you and I always will.” He whispers, placing his hands on his thighs, as soon as he finishes singing the last words. His words are sincere, you can perceive the displeasure behind his tone and you know he believes what he says.

He kisses you on the forehead and, taking your hand in his and squeezing it, he rests his face on your head, closing his eyes and absorbing the silence, a cautious silence, full of peace and fresh air.

“I love you too.” You whisper back, closing your eyes in turn and letting yourself be lulled by the peace and serenity found. You know that everything will be fine, that even if you’ll have other fights, you will always find a way to get back to each other.

-

[yandere-sins]

Now that the undatables are datable, can I see some thoughts on a jealous Diavolo who wants to hoard the mc? Just maybe a punishment for going on a trip to the human world with some of the bros and leaving him behind. Or he’s upset about how little time he can grab between the demon bros eating up all of their attention and his own duties. He’s just so cute, and I’m so happy he’s finally a surprise guest!!!!!

Bruh ask me!!!! Everyday I open the app to be welcomed by the handsome demon-king-in-making and my heart goes doki doki ♥ I decided I need a change of mind since I worked on the book for four days straight, so I wrote you a scenario instead of just my thoughts! Thanks for requesting and please enjoy!

»»———————— ♡ ————————««      

Humming, you were led down the hallways of the Demon Lord’s castle. With a smile and short waves, you greeted the little devils that passed you, snickering and welcoming you back. You had only been back home in the human world for a weekend, but they all seemed awfully joyous that their exchange student had returned, even though you couldn’t pinpoint why that was. 

Thanking the Little D that led you to Diavolo’s study, it swirled around you, giggling for a moment before leaving you alone, and you took a deep breath before knocking on the massive doors that separate you from the room. With a hint of anticipating nervousness, you waited for an answer, hoping Diavolo would be as happy to see you as you were to see him. Over your time in the Devildom - no matter how harsh the truths you had discovered were and how often you had questioned your capabilities since you met the brothers - you had grown quite fond of the Lord, always knowing he supported your progress and time here.

“Yes?” it called out from inside. You had no doubt that Diavolo knew everyone who knocked at his door, but it was still nice that his voice never lost a certain tinge of curiosity when he called someone in. With your smile growing wider, you entered, looking into the instantly brightening face of the man of the hour. 

“[Name]!” he called out, jumping out of his chair like an excited child, and you greeted Barbatos quickly before focusing your attention on the Lord in front of you. “I am back!” you announced, holding up the small package with sweets you brought as a gift from your trip.

“Where have you been?” he asked, his voice urgent despite the smile on his face. “I’ve been worried about you.”

“Huh?” you muttered in surprise. “I thought Lucifer was going to tell you that we were visiting my home for the weekend?”

“Is that so?” Diavolo grumbled under his breath, expression faltering and becoming somber for a moment before the corners of his lips curled up again. He opened his arm as he approached you, adding, “It’s good you’re back then.”

Even before he could reach you, you quickly handed over the package in your hand to Barbatos, who whispered a short, “His majesty was a little... tense this weekend.” Then spoke up louder, “I shall prepare some tea.”

With that, he was gone, and Diavolo pulled you into a hug, an affection you two had grown used to. It was wild for a mere human like you to embrace the future Demon Lord, but you weren’t complaining, especially not since it was Diavolo’s wish to act more normal with you. “I’m sorry. I really thought Luci was going to keep you updated,” you mumbled into his hug, and Diavolo let out a long, sad sigh that tugged on your heartstrings. 

“I can think about why,” Diavolo revealed, and your curiosity perked up at that, showing in your face when you finally brought some distance between you two. “Why?” you asked, unsure what he could mean, but Diavolo’s answer kept you waiting while his eyes scanned all over you, inspecting all of you as if he hadn’t seen you in years. “It’s not a surprise. Anyone would want you all to themselves.”

Furrowing your brows, you let yourself be led to the discussion couch in the middle of the room, sitting down together with Diavolo on his urging. “If Lucifer had told me, I’d have insisted on tagging along. I am sure he wanted to be the only one to have all of your attention this weekend.”

Spluttering, you felt the heat shoot into your head as you shook it vehemently. “It’s not like that! I just showed him around my hometown, and we had all kinds of foods, and...” your words trailed off as you heard the door behind you open again, Barbatos walking in with an apologetic smile as if he had interrupted something, tea tray in his hands.

“As I said, it was just a change of scenery.” Clearing your throat, you tried to change the topic, looking Diavolo straight in the eyes as you spoke up. For a moment, you thought to notice a disapproving gleam in his eyes, but you merely spoke over the bad feeling his unusual stern expression and crossed arms gave you. “What have you been up to? I hope you didn’t just have to work all weekend!”

Prolonging his response, Diavolo hummed thoughtfully before sitting up straight and opening up his arms to receive the cup of tea Barbatos was handing to him, and afterwards to you. “That’s all, Barbatos,” he confirmed to his servant, the latter bowing before taking his leave. You thanked Barbatos too and took a sip of the hot beverage, letting the delicate aromas of the drink fill your nose. 

“I’ve... I’ve been busy, yeah,” Diavolo eventually simply admitted, an uncommon short answer coming from him. Not like he had much leisure to tell endless tales, but usually, he talked in longer sentences. “It’s been a quiet weekend, and I actually wanted to ask you to join me for tea, but I guess my message never reached you.”

“Oh, no...” you mumbled, realizing that since your DDD didn’t have reception in the human world, you hadn’t even checked it once in all this time. Not even know had you charged it and looked at it, having come directly to the castle instead after your return. A crude mistake on your side.

“It’s no problem.” A short smile crossed his lips as Diavolo looked into your regretful eyes. “I am used to it. You are always up to something with the brothers, so I am not surprised when you didn’t reply.” But disappointed. The words he didn’t speak were plainly visible on his face, and you felt a sting in your heart knowing that your carelessness had upset him. Biting your lip as you thought, you decided to make it up to him in the best way you could come up with.

“I’m sorry, your Highness... But I am here now! How about I wait for you to finish your work and we can go out together and have dinner? Promise I won’t leave this time!” Laughing, you tried to lift the mood, and at first, he gave you a raised brow and a somewhat skeptical look, but soon enough, even the Lord couldn’t resist your smile, chiming in softly. 

“Here, let me,” he prompted, taking your cup from you and filling it up with fresh, warm tea even though you hadn’t even finished. Being only able to see his back, you could only assume he even put sugar into the new brew for you, stirring your cup dutifully. It was an honor to receive such a treatment from someone like Diavolo, and you made sure to thank him plenty when he handed the cup back to you. 

“I think spending some time with you is a good idea. This weekend I’ve just been a bit too gloomy for everyone in the castle, I think. Can you believe it? I broke half of the entire inventory on tea sets we own in my frustration.”

Diavolo laughed out loudly while you couldn’t help but feel concerned about what he just revealed to you. It didn’t sound very healthy that he’d let out his mood on the items around him, much less on the people who had to endure the chaos he caused. Giving him a forced polite smile, you decided it was best to let him talk while you sipped your tea. It was almost too sweet now to enjoy it, but since Diavolo went out of his way to prepare it, who were you to refuse the gesture just because it was a little sweet?

“Everytime they brought me a new one, I felt so lonely since you never responded. Eventually, Barbartos decided no more tea for me.” His laugh became even louder as you felt your stomach twist anxiously, not liking what you were hearing. 

“But now you’re here.” Diavolo’s eyes focused back on you, blinking innocently as if he didn’t just reveal that he caused quite an unnecessary troubles. He opened his mouth, breathing in visibly before he continued to speak, one of his hands coming down to lay on your free one resting in your lap. “Let’s not talk about the past anymore. We should think about what we want to do when you wake up instead!”

“When I wake up?” you questioned, confused. Was this a dream? Did Diavolo meet you while you were asleep still? But everything and even his touch felt so real and warm, it couldn’t be. “Well, I didn’t think I’d stay the night. There’s school tomorrow, right?” you chuckled jokingly, nudging him slightly, but when you continued to talk, your voice betrayed you, cracking as you felt a nervous pull inside of you.

“I... I just thought we could go for dinner later, so we have enough time to prepare for tomorrow at home.”

As if on cue, the moment you finished your sentence, you looked back at Diavolo, feeling suddenly very light-headed. “I heard you, [Name].” Diavolo spoke slowly, sounding a bit like he was talking to a toddler, trying to pronounce his words clearly. “But you said it. You’re not leaving this time, and a promise is a promise.”

“W-What... What’s going on... ?” 

Indifferent to your growing discomfort, Diavolo took the cup of tea from you, putting it down on the coffee table before inching closer to you. An arm wrapped around your shoulders while another pressed between your knees and the couch, all while you felt dizzy and dizzier, your body slowly but surely growing heavy. “I think I deserve some extra time with you, and tonight must suffice for now. Maybe even tomorrow? Let’s see how long the magic lasts. Do you like movies?”

Really, it was more of a monologue by now as you could barely manage to speak anymore, being hit by seemingly the weight of the world as Diavolo lifted you gently from the couch. “We could watch one of the new movies I sponsored. Rate if they did a good job.” Giggling like an excited child, your head fell against his chest, your breathing growing slow and steady despite the inner panic you felt just seconds ago. Your eyelids felt like they were solid blocks of cement, ready to bow to gravity and fall closed.

“I know, you're very tired, you don’t need to answer me right away. I promise we’ll have a lot of fun together later, and you can tell me if you like movies then. If not...” Diavolo’s words came to a halt while he carried you forward, doors opening for him with seemingly no effort as he simply kept going and going. But it was too hard to comprehend what was going on, only a feeling of fear and disapproval left bubbling inside of you for a few moments more. 

“If not, I am sure we’ll find something,” he promised with a wide grin on his face. You felt his lips connect with the top of your head briefly before a second wave of tiredness overcame you, this time too strong to resist. Your eyelids refused to open while your mind was lulled into a dreamless sleep, your limbs hanging loosely from Diavolo’s arms. The last thing you remembered wondering was what he was going to do with you, but luckily, you didn’t finish this thought and rode yourself into more anxiety than the situation already gave you.

If Levi’s envy, Satan’s wrath, and Lucifer’s pride - feelings that were ever so possessive over you - were awful in your opinion, then you should have known better than to rise all of them in the strongest Demon that currently existed. Unless, that was, if you wanted him to catch you like a mouse with a piece of cheese?

If that was the case, you achieved exactly what you wanted.

[dawn8080]

How about an MC who doesn't like telling people it's their bday because they don't like big parties or people making a fuss over it, and the brothers come to know it's their bday on the day itself? (Obey me Headcannon please :3)

MC who hates celebrating their birthday

(Big thanks to @obey-me-rules-my-life-now for the request!)

MC has never been one to celebrate their birthday. Parties were big celebrations, and big celebrations meant people in masses. So, to avoid having to face a party, embarrassment and disappointment, they told no one. They never brought up the topic and when a brother did, they shut it down. All too soon, the dreaded day approached. How will each brother react?

Lucifer:

He knew when MC’s birthday was. He read their file after all. But when MC never mentioned their birthday, the thought faded from his mind.

Lucifer could tell something was off; MC was being snappy and moody to everyone, including himself.

MC was extra snappy after yet another failed plan of making money that they were dragged into and wanted to be left alone in their room. However, Lucifer knew to address their snappiness and moodiness.

When Lucifer knocked on MC’s door, it was met with a grumpy “Go away”

Lucifer growled under his breath, “MC, we need to discuss your recent behavior.”

“There’s no reason. Now leave me alone.”

Knowing that MC wasn’t willing to tell him, he went back into his office, to do more paperwork.

After hours of working on paperwork, he took a moments break to look at his DDD, lighting up with notifications.

Diavolo: So Lucifer, how was today? Good, I’ll suppose?

Lucifer: What’s makes you say that?

Barbatos: Have you forgotten?

Lucifer: Forgotten what?

Diavolo: Today is MC’s birthday! Have you forgotten?

Lucifer understood all at once what had happened, and went to confront them about it.

When confronted, MC shrugged their shoulders and said, “So? It’s just another day. It marks another year of my existence. It just makes me feel older.”

Understanding where they were coming from, he sighed and said, “You’re still a guest here in the House of Lamination and as long as your in this exchange program, we are responsible for your safety and comfort. That being said,” as he takes MC hands, “Could I at least interest you in a dinner?”

MC looked calculating for a few seconds before saying “I guess just a dinner would be nice...”

Mammon:

Mammon was never trusted with any of MC’s personal information (understandably so). And he knew he and his brothers could be a bit too much sometimes! So he didn’t really question it when MC started getting a bit grumpier than usual.

It wasn’t until MC came home one day after a failed money making scheme, throwing their book bag at the wall and stomping to their room.

He immediately was concerned and was knocking on their door, begging to be let in. After 30 minuets of being told no, he stayed silent, but outside their door.

Soon, when he heard their shower running, he walked into their room to see what was so wrong.

He didn’t notice anything wierd until he looked at their phone, light up with notifications from their human relatives.

Curiosity got the best of him as he wandered over and read their screen. To say he was shocked is an understatement when he read how many Happy Birthday texts MC received.

MC then entered the room to see Mammon on their phone, which resulted in Mammon getting kicked out of the bedroom.

Mammon stood outside in shock; humans loved their birthdays, so why were they so grumpy? And more importantly, why didn’t the human tell the GREAT Mammon that it was their birthday?!

He went straight to Lucifer, head spinning in confusion.

After barging in and questioning Lucifer, he realized that maybe going through their phone wasn’t the best idea...

...or at least that’s what he realized as he hung from the ceiling in front of Lucifers office again.

MC was walking downtown he hallway when they heard, “Yo! Human! Come give me a hand!”

MC helped him, but then quickly started leaving. Before they could though, Mammon took their hand and said, “Now wait a minuet. Why didn’t you tell me today is you birth-”

MC quickly spun and held their free hand over his mouth to shush him. “Don’t speak of this day to anyone! Or I swear, Goldie will have a friend called Paper Shredder.”

Mammon moved their hand and said, “I already asked Lucifer if he knew. He did, no surprise. But why didn’t you tell me?”

MC then dropped their hands to their sides and said, “I just don’t like my birthday. I don’t like celebrating it.”

Mammon sighed, as if defeated. Then he brightened up again. “How about we just watch movies then?! You don’t need to say it’s a special occasion to watch movies with the GREAT Mammon!”

MC sighed, smiling lightly. “I guess it wouldn’t be weird, huh?” They then smirked suddenly, “Now how about Resident Evil-”

“MC NOO!”

Leviathan:

MC’s grumpiness really caught him off-guard. They were almost never grumpy, yet they’ve been acting this way for an entire week.

He heard the loud clash of a book bag hitting a wall and angry footsteps down the hallway, near his room. He peaked his head out of his room, only to see an angry/grumpy MC storming past him.

Ignoring him completely.

That... didn’t feel right. They always acknowledged him in one way or another.

So, rather than leaving his precious room, he grabbed his phone and started spamming MC questions.

Levi: MC?

Levi: Are you okay?

Levi: Hey, answer the phone!

He quickly realized they weren’t responding although he knew they saw the texts.

He sighed dejectedly. Who would want to talk to a gross, yucky otaku like him anyways?

As he kept wallowing in self-pity, he heard his phone ding with a text. He was reading the text in an instant, hopes falling with it.

MC: I have to cancel game night. Maybe next week?

Levi knew they never rescheduled his game and anime hang out sessions. Concerned, he headed over to their room for answers.

Levi knocked, and realized the door was open. But there was no MC. He glanced around the room and saw their homework on their desk, already completed.

He then sat on the foot of their bed, playing mobile games until MC came back. Where he would confront MC about the birthday.

That’s when he booted up one of the Devildom games that MC loved. Suddenly, it piped up with a notice on his login.

It was his mutuals friends birthday.

He covered his shock and set up a surprise for MC.

40 minuets later, MC came back into their room, only to see Levi sitting in front of his monitor, playing anime, while he was cuddling his Ruri-Chan body pillow.

To say they were surprised was an understatement, but before anything could be said, Levi dragged them down next to him.

“Hey, why couldn’t I know about your birthday?” Levi frowned and asked.

“I... just don’t like celebrating. Is that why you’re here?”

Levi shakes his head and offers a second head set labeled “Player 2” and MC accepts it.

“I just want to watch anime with you tonight. Maybe we can game next week?”

Satan:

Satan could’ve gotten his hands on your background, but he just had that golden opportunity to prank Lucifer too...! He, of course, chose priority.

He knew MC were moody before they did; becoming a master of masks made him very perceptive of others emotions.

He offered help with de-stressing and with homework, thinking that was the issue.

He did not think that his books would eventually be thrown into a wall as MC stormed to their room only days later.

He was furious at the treatment of the books that he lent, and went to confront MC about their behavior towards everyone.

He didn’t expect to hear the tail end of a call MC was having with relatives back home.

“Yes Mom, thank you. I’ll have a good birthday, now bye.” MC hung up the phone, tired out of their mind.

Satan stepped in, knocking on the door lightly. Though still shocked from the news he just received, he knew that he needed to stay silent. For now.

“MC, you threw your books in the doorway. They have been lended to you and you could damage them that way.”

“I’m sorry. I won’t be so careless next time.” MC replied, running a hand down their face in exhaustion.

Satan smiled and said, “You damaged the books I lent you. You could make up for that.”

MC audibly gulped, worried what they had to do.

Satan continued, “You could work in Hells Kitchen tomorrow to replace them? Or, you could stay here and read for a bit, if stress or unwanted events seems to be the issue.”

MC looked up, shocked. Then they smiled. “I prefer option 2 the most. Thank you.”

The two of them then sat side by side, reading books until MC fell asleep.

“Goodnight, MC. Have sweet dreams.”

Asmodeus:

Asmodeus didn’t understand why you were so moody and sassy so suddenly. He, too, figured it was due to stress, so he scheduled a self care night... on your birthday.

He knew the stress should be causing break outs so when he saw the first sign of acne, he practically screamed.

But we all know the gossipy demons habits. The day at RAD had been normal, until the walk home.

MC was walking faster than the others, and was radiating annoyance.

Asmodeus followed you as fast as he could, hoping to do the self care session before homework.

He didn’t expect you to walk so fast either. He was sweating slightly and had to redo his make up.

As he walked into your room, he saw you toss a letter into a nearby trash bin.

He was about to question it as MC said, “It’s nothing, Asmo. It’s fine.”

MC then smiled, letting him do the self care session and offering to do homework with him so it was “less stressing”.

However, as MC left to go get their abandoned books in the main hall, he couldn’t help but peek at the envelope, addressed from MC’a family.

Shock was very evident on Asmo’s face as MC walked in. Knowing what convorsation was to come from the party-loving demon, they shut the door.

“Asmo, I can explain-”

“MC, honey, it’s your birthday?! No one knew!” Asmo sounded distressed and MC awkwardly patted his shoulder.

“It’s fine Asmo. I just don’t like celebrating my birthday. It makes me feel... old.”

Asmo nodded, trying to understand. Some people just didn’t flaunt their age.

Asmo then sighed. “At least let us do something fun for your birthday then. Ooh, you can tell me how old you are!”

“Nope. Never telling my age.”

Asmo deflated like a kicked puppy, only for MC to pipe up.

“Asmo, we could watch silly movies if you want.”

He smiled and hugged MC.

“Thank you, MC. Now, what genre do we watch?”

Beelzebub:

He knew you were upset about something. And it upset him. So while you were moody, Beel was trying to cheer you up.

Did you not eat enough? Were you getting too little sleep? Were you getting to stressed? Poor boy just wanted to help.

Which is why he was carrying a plate of MC’s favorite food to their room, while he munched on his own snacks.

When he got to their room, he realized that they’d locked themself inside. He knocked on the doors and MC opened them minuets later.

Seeing their favorite food, MC instantly smiled.

And then froze.

“Wait, how did you know what today is?”

Beelzebub was confused and tilted his head to the side. “What is today?”

MC realized that he was trying to just be kind.

“Oh, nothing! Uh, thank you for the food.”

Beel wouldn’t let this drop so he followed MC into their room as they carried their food in, munching on his snacks while looking around.

“MC, what is today?”

MC sighed and said “Today is my.... birthday. But I don’t like celebrating it. Makes me feel too old, you know?”

He actually didn’t but knew that humans lives were much different.

“Well, we don’t have to celebrate it, but knowing would have been nice.” He looked upset and MC instantly regretted it.

“It’s okay Beel! Really.” MC smiled warmly at him. They walked over and hugged the big demon before going back to their food.

Beel sighed and said, “Can we cuddle tonight?”

MC turned, shocked. He didn’t specifically ask for cuddles often, so this was unexpected. MC instantly asked, “Because it’s my birthday?”

Beel shook his head.

“I really like cuddling with you.”

Belphegor

He was honestly annoyed at MC’s behavior. And worried. But if anyone asked, he was annoyed at it.

He was shocked- but still tired. So he pushed MC over slightly and layer down next to them.

Him popping up in MCs room was honestly a normal thing. They’d do whatever they were doing and Belphie would claim their bed.

So when he slunk to their room, he didn’t expect to see them in their bed.

As he was falling asleep, he heard MC’s phone start ringing. She had set her ringtone from the human world to be berry annoying.

He picked up the phone and said, “They’re asleep.” Before he could hang up, he heard them yell, “Tell her we said happy birthday!”

He was confused. MC had been acting bratty... because it was their birthday?

He decided he needed a well-deserved nap first and that he’d handle it when he woke up.

They were both woke up a few hours later for dinner, and afterwards, MC retreated back to their room again.

Belphie snuck back into their bed, waiting for MC to finish their homework.

When MC finished, Belphie looked at them and said “Happy birthday.”

As MC spluttered and tried asking how he knew, he rolled his eyes and said, “You had family that called.”

“Oh.”

Belphie was by MCs side now, as they had been walking over to the bed during this ordeal.

“MC, I don’t need your reasoning for not telling me your birthday, but I hope I’ll be told next year?”

MC nods, smiling lightly.

“MC, will you watch the stars with me?”

(Aah, this took longer than expected!! I hope it’s what was expected)

[darknessisafriend]

Commodus the whore of the Empress Part 3

I felt inspired to write part 3 thanks to a wonderful dream I had (which I described here with photo references) Part 1 and 2 here!

“I have organized a party tonight. To celebrate my arrival to power and the success of my rule.” You spoke as you worked; your eyes focused on your hand signing some papers the scribes handed you. You were devoted to your duty towards the Senate, but you hated paperwork, you much preferred concrete actions, just like your predecessor. Commodus had been standing by your side, his hands clasped in front of him, waiting to satisfy your every desire, making sure you stayed hydrated and didn’t forget to eat, and of course, quietly listening to you.

“The Empress deserves to celebrate her victory. In the corridors, the People speak very well of you.” He replied respectfully but with some kind of softness showing through his tone. You smiled at this revelation; you appreciated how devoted to you he was, how he listened in every corners to what the People talked about; despite everything he had proven himself to be one of your most loyal subjects.

“Oh, one more thing…you will assist to the celebration. I have personally selected the most beautiful slaves and servants to make the night even more enjoyable.” You smirked, you were looking forward to your first party as the Empress of the Roman Empire, and the former emperor now your whore by your side. “You should be flattered I chose you to be among them.” You added towards the young man; was it an attempt to flirt? neither of you knew why you had let this out. But then, you sighed as you felt tension in him, more like apprehension; you closed yourself again because of the semblance of affection you had let out “What is Commodus? Speak or leave but stop vexing me.” Your tone came out harsher than you meant it to be, but paperwork annoyed you to the highest point and sometimes you couldn’t help but remain on your guards. He slightly danced on his feet, unsure but not daring to disobey you.

“There will be people who will recognize me and it-it’s…I fear how they will treat me, Your Majesty.” He slightly stuttered, ashamed to be nervous in front of his Empress.

“Your presence is precisely because they will recognize you. We need to show them your new status, don’t we?” you hid a smirk, leaning back in your chair as you detailed his god-like face; you took a real pleasure in this decision “But don’t worry, I won’t tolerate them to disrespect me by mistreating, mocking or even touching my favorite whore.” You heard him sigh in relief, that was all he needed to hear, that he remained under your protection and at your service.

“I am grateful Empress; I do not deserve such kind treatment.” He still said, he could have expected to be humiliated and abused in public by the one who took his place but he was starting to know you and somehow he hardly believed you would hurt him, as long as he fucked you well at least….

“Did I tell you that you could give me your opinion on the way I treat you? Perhaps you would prefer to be beaten by the guards and badly fed? You have been a good and docile whore, and never disappointed me; quite the contrary. Hardly any man made me come like you do. So, you deserve to be rewarded. Don’t question my generosity again, Commodus.”

“Yes, Empress. Forgive me.” He apologized, you waved your hand dismissively, not holding it against him and then sighed annoyed by the work in front of you.

“How could you handle this much boring paperwork?” you finally asked, for once referring to his past position; you leaned forward on your desk, resting your elbows on it, looking at him expectantly and ready to listen to him.

“I agree it is not the most exciting thing to work on, but it is essential to the duty of Emperor… or Empress in your case.” He gave a small and barely hidden affectionate smile “I told myself I was enduring all of this for the People, my children. It might sound foolish, but this only thought made the task less boring.” He remembered, wondering what you would think about such answer. A pleased smile formed on your lips.

“I appreciate the advice Commodus. Now leave; I don’t require your services for the rest of the afternoon. You shall wear clothes made especially for tonight’s event.” You dismissed him casually; he bowed to you, and it always amazed you how it didn’t feel mechanic with him, like most people…it felt as if he really wanted to bow to you, show respect and love for his Empress. And that was how he felt, since he had become your slave, he had never been so well treated and cared for, he was happy to serve you, nothing to worry about but please you, and in one of the most exquisite way. And in return he had a beautiful Empress looking at him, sometimes even smiling or dropping hints of affection in her words…just for him.

The evening finally came and the time for the celebration as well. You were covered in compliments and other socialites talks. But of course, many talked about the fallen Emperor; you could hear the muffled laughs and excited hushed whispers of the guests, hoping to see your famous slave, the defeated Emperor Commodus. How humiliating they imagined it to be; and how far they were from the truth.

“If any of you dares to disrespect me by mocking the slaves I generously provide to entertain us tonight; you will be punished.” You warned the guests, keeping a charming smile. And all knew that it was even more dangerous when you did that, like the former Emperor. Your eyes scanned the room, making sure all had understood before gesturing to the guards to make the beautiful minions, concubines and others who were part of the harem of the former Emperor enter. Except that this time, he was one of them.

And you finally saw him enter the dining room, barely dressed; of course, he didn’t wear the famous golden laurel crown nor his rings…you wore them. You had him wear a gorgeous long necklace made of gold and red rubies which covered part of his sculpted chest, perfectly matching with the golden tone of his skin. The only piece of clothing he wore was a short tunic, only covering his hips and manhood; that was only a sight for you. But it wouldn’t be fun if there wasn’t a bit of edge and provocation in his outfit, no, his tunic barely covered his ass, the fabric almost transparent to let imagination run wild and it was for all to see, and what an incredibly nice view it was…Commodus may have the most skilled tongue in all Rome but he also had the most beautiful bottom of the Empire.

Of course, the moment he had entered the dining room, all eyes were on him, the guest blown away by the beauty of this beautiful slave, how lucky was the Empress to have him as her personal slave. You couldn’t help but grin at the effect he had on them; it was indeed an exceptional sight, the once much feared Emperor, barely clothed and ready to serve the new Empress.

You could feel anxiety radiate off him, he tried to avert his gaze and look at the ground as much as possible, but he couldn’t help but look for his master, his Empress…you; you found it truly adorable. As if he felt your eyes on him, he finally found you among the crowd, the both of you looked at each other for long seconds. Until you gestured for him to approach and he couldn’t have been happier, he felt protected by your side, and comfortable as if it was his natural place…maybe it was, he thought.

And you didn’t expect to enjoy his presence by your side so much, somehow you felt stronger, perhaps because it reminded you of your victory or perhaps because you trusted him, since that night where he suggested a better pillow for you and simply slept without any attempt for revenge.

“Commodus. I want you to look in front of you. You are serving the Empress and as such you can be proud of the privilege you are granted.” You instructed him; you didn’t care if it wasn’t following the custom. The young man instantly obeyed, his eyes scanning the room like he used to “They fear me and seeing you standing proud by my side, they will fear you too. Now…turn around, I want to make sure you are perfectly prepared.” You request, turning your head to detail him.

“I hope the empress will find me to her liking.” He spoke respectfully but with a discreet hopeful smile on his lips as he turned around, letting you detail his toned skin and muscles shinning at the light of the torches. And indeed, you found him very much to your liking…probably the greatest victory gift you could have ever received.

“I am pleased indeed. Now, parade for me, my whore. And serve them well.” You shamelessly looked at his ass as he walked away, taking a tray of cups of wine and serving the guests. Despite a situation prone to humiliation, he couldn’t help but feel pride as he felt your eyes fixated on him, he didn’t dare to think you would feel any affection for him and yet, there had to be something more than just being pleased with his servitude. He was probably the happiest servant, and under your protection he felt his usual defying attitude come back as he faced the guest, he was untouchable.

As the night started you went to sit and enjoy a few mundanities with chosen guests; actually you had invited only women at your table, the senators and other nobles were placed elsewhere; otherwise it wouldn’t be a fun night.

As you enjoyed the night, you noticed many of the guests had only eyes for your Commodus and that it wouldn’t take much longer for them to touch him, and you didn’t want that and even if he did his best to play his part, he couldn’t stop but throw looks at you, aching to be standing close to you. Having pity of your boy, with your fingers, you gestured for him to join you; he respectfully bowed his head as he came to stand by your side, your hand came up to caress his ass, doing it naturally like anyone would on their slave.

Then, you smiled mischievously as you took off your laurel crown, your fingers slowly brushing over the golden leaves; Commodus’ eyes were following your fingers, he was completely at your mercy.

“Kneel, slave.” You ordered him, not even looking at him and you could feel how he craved just for you to look at him. From the corner of your eyes you saw him execute himself, dutifully waiting for your next move. You played a bit more with the laurel crown before putting it on top of his head like he usually wore it.

“Aren’t you pretty with this crown…right little Caesar?” you teased him, the guests silently chuckling and Commodus blushing; there was a time where he would killed anyone who dared to treat him this way but not anymore, especially with you.

“I live to please my-…the Empress.” He replied realizing too late that he had made a mistake and in return he received a slap in the face from you; his face blushing even more as he looked at the ground; it was humiliating but it send butterflies down his belly ‘now wasn’t the time to get aroused’ he thought. Sometimes you tolerated it in private, but in public? No, you couldn’t show your weakness. Still, you couldn’t help but gently stroke his cheek afterwards, he leaned into your soothing palm.

“Next time, it will be spanking. Go get me a cup of the best wine we have.” You ordered him almost too softly…as for Commodus ‘spanking?’ Coming from you he would certainly enjoy it. He nodded before getting up, eager to please you again and hoping for your forgiveness.

“For you Empress, wine from Lutetia.” He bowed his head, presenting the cup to you which you took and tasted. A smirk escaped your lips, flavorful, strong, deep…a bit like him actually; of course, he knew the perfect wine for you.

“Your majesty, do you know that the People are still talking about Maximus the Spaniard? He is like a hero to them…” asked one of your guests, knowing well it would bother the fallen Emperor. You felt him tense, clenching his jaw but keeping his eyes on the ground, closely listening to the conversation; he wondered what you thought about Maximus, you were part of the uprising that lead to his fall, after all it wouldn’t be surprising if you were a fan of the gladiator.

“The People always need a hero, let them honor who they want. I have to admit I rather enjoyed his fights in the Coliseum. My predecessor was right, it was unlike anything seen before. I might even grant them a celebration in honor of his death…” You replied taking a sip of your wine; Commodus face was red with anger, how much he hated Maximus, and his death hadn’t changed anything.

As you continued to talk about Maximus, your hand gave a push to his lower back, making him understand that you wanted him to sit on your lap. To your greatest pleasure he didn’t hesitate. Of course, he was rather heavy, he was well built after all but you didn’t mind, to have this once powerful and strong man at your orders was truly exciting. Commodus enjoyed being at your mercy, he didn’t have to think, he simply had to obey your orders and satisfy all your needs and what better to do than please his Empress? And in return your cared for him and pampered him if he was a good boy…he would have never imagined, in his wildest dreams to be allowed to sleep by your side.

You loosely wrapped your arm around his hips, your hand resting on his thigh. You could feel goosebumps form on his skin under your touch. With your other hand, you took an olive, presenting it to his mouth, Commodus was a gourmand and you wanted him to enjoy the food tonight “Open your mouth.” You asked him; his eyes met yours, with you he was allowed such affront; and his eyes never left yours as he obeyed, letting you slowly slide the food between his lips, the tip of your fingers brushing against his tongue.

“Thank you, Empress.” He breathed; the words barely audible to anyone else but you. His eyes left yours to linger on your lips in a moment of wandering; until he realized what he was doing and averted his eyes, looking away. Of course, it didn’t escape you, but you let it go, it was flattering. You brought your mouth close to his ear.

“For once I will ask you to be quiet, Commodus.” You mysteriously asked him, he briefly looked at you confused, but slowly nodded.

It was when he felt your hand slide underneath his short tunic that he understood what you meant. The table hid what was going on, but his whole-body reaction, it will be hard to hide. He took a deep breath when your hand reached his manhood, lightly brushing over his soft pubic hair, then his inner thigh. He couldn’t help but slightly wiggle on your lap, hoping for more.

“I do remember Maximus, what a man of great entertainment he was. The way he provoked the Emperor, turned his back on him…what a wonderful sight.” You knew those words would pique Commodus, but what could he say or do when you pronounced those words and finally grabbed his member, slowly getting hard under your teasing. He pinched his lips together in anticipation.

“It is true that many ladies would have paid for a night with the Spaniard, but Lucilla kept him all for herself. How selfish!” Replied one of your guests, oh yes his sister was another sensitive subject for him. You slowly started to stroke him, your thumb brushing over the sensitive tip making him swallow back a moan.

“Maximus wasn’t too bad to look at, but I did enjoy his adversary just as much. Very nice fighting skills for an emperor…according to his reputation I never expected him to actually have the courage to fight a gladiator.” It was a backhanded compliment that made some guests laugh, but he took it as just a compliment and how good it was to be appreciated by his master.

“The dark brooding looks and icy eyes that didn’t hesitate to kill…rather exciting.” You tightened your grip on his throbbing cock, he squeezed his eyes shut, slightly arching his hips against your hand ‘more, please more!’

“A dangerous man is exciting not like our old senators of husbands!” replied one with a scoff

“And look at him now, he is a very good boy.” You purred increasing the pace ‘Oh yes, I’m a good Empress, only for you…’ a strangled moan escaped his mouth, with that pace, he was close, so close and it was so hard to keep silence.

“Be quiet, beautiful boy.” You whispered as you leant closer to his ear, he tried to nod but is whole body was in ecstasy, his breathing fast, just a bit more, that’s all he needed. Another moan escaped his lips a second time, a desperate whimper which made you stop; he didn’t play by the rules and was noisy.

“Is he alright?” one of the guests couldn’t help but ask. It is true that he might have looked in pain, maybe he was, but a pleasurable one, he was so close to climax, completely at your mercy.

“Are you?” you repeated, making him whimper in need, he hated this denial and yet it was extremely exciting.

“I-I am very much okay…my Lady. Thank you for asking.” He answered not meeting her eyes, his voice trembling with desire. You guests smiled, so that was the fallen emperor, not so threatening anymore, he could be used for anything.

“You surely have the most beautiful slave in the whole Empire, your majesty. I wish you would grant me a bit of time with him, but I would perfectly understand if you wanted to keep him all for yourself.” One dared to ask, that was a daring request and you didn’t especially appreciate it. Yet, you smirked amused by Commodus nervously and lightly wiggling on your lap, waiting for your decision.

“Wouldn’t that be amusing little Caesar?” you teased him, slowly caressing his muscular thigh, you won’t bring him satisfaction, not yet.

“I am only your slave, not theirs, Empress” You retained a chuckle, to them he sounded condescend but that’s exactly what you wanted to hear; you placed a feather-like kiss on his shoulder to reward him and he let out a shuddering breath in return.

“He is mine. Nobody touches him. I am generous enough to allow people to look at him in such a lustful way. Don’t dare to ask for the property of Empress again.” You replied firmly but keeping a sweet and dangerous smile. You felt Commodus sigh in relief, glad that you wanted him only for yourself, perhaps it meant you care about him more than you shown?

“Of course, my Lady. Forgive my bold request.” With a wave of your hand you dismissed the guests from your table, you had enough of them, and you were much more interested in Commodus.

“Kiss me, my whore.” You looked at Commodus in the eyes, and the blush that formed on his cheeks was a wonderful sight. He leaned towards your face, giving you a quick kiss on the lips, he was careful, not knowing what you expected and aware of many guests witnessing the scene. You chuckled at the kiss, he felt like a shy young man kissing for the first time; you seized his chin, making him look at you in the eyes.

“Kiss me like you mean it. Use that gorgeous tongue of yours” You ordered him a second time…the glow in his eyes changed, something darker, animal; one of those looks he sometimes gave you when you had sex and you loved feral Commodus, always the best. His eyes lingered on your lips before he leaned closer again, slowly placing his lips on yours but the pressure against your mouth was very real. Soon, you felt something wet, his tongue caressing your lips, and how could you resist to such request? You opened your mouth, letting him in, tasting, feeling his tongue against yours; the kiss wasn’t all sweet, no, it was full of desire, fierce and filled with…affection; you couldn’t say how exactly you could tell but you felt it and it sent butterflies down your belly. You didn’t want this to end but you couldn’t show to the senators and guest that you were having growing feelings for the fallen Emperor.

“Go to my chambers, strip down and wait for me…my lo-…Commodus.” You whispered affectionately against his lips; your face going back to an indifferent mask, hiding the feelings that had started to grow for him for the past days. He blinked a few times and hid a soft smile, but his eyes couldn’t hide his happiness for your words.

“I shall be waiting and ready to serve you, Empress.” He answered on the softest tone, leaving your lap to head to your chambers that it seemed we would share with you permanently from now on.

Commodus harem:

@lyoongx​ @weirdflecksbutok​ @skaravile​ @niniitah-ah @stardancerluv​ @sgtsavoytruffle​ @charlie-sisters​ @ohcarlesmycarles​ @rajacero @hopelessdisasterr @stellargirlie​ @rosebloodstuffandthangss​ @clowndaddyfleck​ @jaylovesbats @dreamingmaria​ @sagyunaro​ @just-a-fucking-comedy​ @spaceinvader​ @radio-hoo-ha​ @lady-carnivals-stuff​ @sierraclegane​​ @legojorny​ @lemondedeniname​​ @hvproductions​​ @syvellsworld​​ @papercut-paranoia​​ @jokerflecker​​ @beautifulyoungprospect​​ @bring-your-holy-water @winterjasmine007​ @reginasansrex​

[coreastories]

Corean Awards Night: Was the queen hidden in plain sight?

This year, the Corean Awards Ceremony was held in the winter palace in Pyeongchang 

Usually held in Gwangyeongjeon Palace in Busan, the awards ceremony relocated to the mountains where the queen is currently recuperating from the car crash that shook all our collective knees on November 13

Ahjummas still haven’t recovered and there was talk whether or not the awards ceremony for November 29 would be postponed to a later date

But new invitations have not been issued

The Royal Public Affairs Office announced instead that the media and nominees are cordially invited to the winter palace for the Corean Awards Ceremony, with every change in transport and accommodation for this to be satisfied by the palace 

Who'd complain? 

Exclusively televised by the the Corean Broadcasting Service, this humble reporter didn’t really have to do much but enjoy being there

Gyeoulgungjeon, literally “winter palace,” was completed in 1926, a royal gift for the current king’s great grandparents on their wedding. It served as a recovery hospital during World War II. 

Security protocol doesn’t allow me to post photos of the palace, and you’ll find no aerial shots of it anywhere. For international readers who haven’t seen the televised broadcast, you can look at the Pillnitz palaces in Dresden so you have an idea of what Gyeoulgungjeon looks like, nestled in the snow-covered slopes of Pyeongchang. 

Gyeoulgungjeon has the same Baroque style, though more gracefully situated in the mountains, with a charming rustic landscaping to match the scenery rather than Versailles-formality

The Corean Awards Ceremony was both luxurious and casual. It was black tie, and almost all the men were in tuxes, but the king himself wore a simple black suit and tie rather than any of his grander uniforms and coats. 

We were seated in round tables with glittering candelabra. The banquet hall left plenty of space for camaraderie, and people were on their feet, switching tables, and mingling in a friendly atmosphere. It was an evening among colleagues and the best people in the fields honored in the Corean Awards, but there were no huge egos walking around. It was delightful. 

We were served delicious makgeolli, which I’ve been told was made right there in the winter palace. Aside from the sumptuous Corean and continental buffet, I also had a whole year’s serving of carbs in irresistible hotteok and bindaetteok. Gods. 

The new Corean Laureate in Medicine: Chae Song-Eun Seonsaengnim

We’ve mentioned before that more than half of the nominees were under 50. Many of them won. Every Corean Award winner was decided by the most renowned in their respective fields around the world. 

Go here for our coverage of the Corean Awards Winners 

Dr Chae Song-eun, the queen’s OB, won the Corean Award in Medicine for her pioneering work in in-utero surgery. The award was presented by Dr. Fouad M. Abbas, one of the top doctors of the world specializing in oncology and obstetrics-- one of the judges of Corean Award in Medicine, and among the special guests that night. 

In her speech, Dr Chae announced the prize money of 2 billion won is going to Daesang Medical Group, to support international surgery missions to countries and patients in need.   

DMG has the queen as patroness, and is headed by Dr Chae’s husband, CorGen Chief of General Surgery, Dr Lee Sok-jun. 

Dr Lee Sok-jun: “I’m very proud of her. But then she always amazes me every day. This is nothing new.”

Congratulations, Dr Chae! On your Corean Award and your husband! 

Confirmed: The Prime Minister has been staying in the winter palace

Rumors have been circulating, of course, because the PM is supposed to be in Seoul but she  hasn’t been there. She wasn’t in Cheongwadae either. 

We can now confirm: The PM has been working from the winter palace for the past week.

This too-close tie between the palace and the government has drawn some raised eyebrows from the international press (and some local dissidents from the Jinsun Party, but no one listens to the parties). Within the kingdom, however, it’s just an accepted and beloved fact that the queen and the prime minister are friends. 

They work together to the benefit of the kingdom, and these two are always in lists of the most powerful, most admired women of the world. 

The PM worked closely with the king and queen at the palace. It seems Their Majesties are tying up loose ends for the year and for the next, with the PM expected to take over some diplomatic duties until well into July next year. 

While we weren’t able to get a comment from Her Excellency, we did see her power walking in one of the palace’s service halls in her half-tux, half-tartan skirt outfit. Hmm. Not crazy about it, but not too bad either. 

After flashing that mischievous grin like the proverbial cat with the canary, she was both friendly and curt, and we didn’t press her. She did tell us she was leaving after the Ceremony.  

I would love to be a bug on the wall for the past week. I want to know the dynamics between those three! 

Speaking of three…

The royal love triangle was together again-- although one party wasn’t aware of it

Part of the fun and anticipation of the Corean Awards was seeing Gong Shin and his blatant crush on the queen. 

My assistant was shaking too much when she took the photo for this to turn out any good, and we’ve enhanced it as much as we could.

We met him on the way to Pyeongchang, and the Corean star was all smiles, saying he was looking forward to the evening with Their Majesties, and he was really glad the queen was well. 

I was quite sad for him that night. 

Before the sun went down, we were treated to the sight of the king arriving amid the Royal Guard. 

No queen until evening fell and the lamps lit up the palace. Shortly before the ceremony started, it was announced the queen was not attending. 

You’ve all seen this photo of Gong Shin with a flute of champagne in what looks like a dressing room in Gyeoulgungjeon. His expression does look a little forlorn.

Ahjummas are speculating it’s because he was disappointed about not seeing the queen. 

Now we have these low quality photos of the king, in a different room, in a different suit, with a different expression, looking rather amused and gleeful. And we know very few people who can make the king look so happy. 

The same ahjummas awww-ing over Gong Shin awww-ed over this, and speculate that the queen had entered that opulent room, or maybe the king had been told something good?  

The king seemed in good spirits during the evening. We have this breathtaking photo from the Royal Public Affairs Office, of the king now in the suit and tie he’d worn that evening. 

I feel like we've published the same photo before, but it's not the king's fault he looks the same bright eyed happy king he always does, is it. 

And along with that photograph, we received one other: 

Her Majesty the Queen, Corean Awards Ceremony, Gyeoulgungjeon

The label is succinct as always. So it looks like the queen did attend the Awards! We don’t know how they’ve managed to hide the queen, but the palace can be terrifyingly efficient like that. I’m just glad to see her even in this photograph. 

And of course it’s her right to watch without being obligated to present an award or be there for the guests. It’s Her Majesty’s prerogative. And perhaps Gong Shin is smiling at the discovery that the queen saw him present the award for the Corean Award in Film, yes?   

The Royal Public Affairs Office assures us the queen continues to mend. She will still be in a sling for another 2 to 4 weeks, and she has started therapy. I’m sure the queen is snug and absolutely getting the royal treatment-- pun intended. 

Now if only the Royal Public Affairs Office could add something to their labels to elucidate why the queen was hidden away, hmm? 

Ahjummas have weighed in on this, and said it was perhaps the old tradition of keeping the expecting mom away from the public as she goes past the first trimester, to protect her from jealous bad spirits. 

After that car crash, I can get behind that!

Stay safe, Your Majesty!  Stay tuned, dear reader. 

------------ With thanks to @ms-interpretation​ for the screenshot of the king and the Royal Guard. :)   If I added a watermark on a photo, it means I did some hard work on it that ate time, so the conceit of adding a watermark. Argh. Lol.

[nyc-uws]

Psychologists Express Growing Concern With Mindfulness Meditation

“It’s not bare-knuckle, that’s for sure.”

Inverse  Peter Hess

Mindfulness, which involves the simple act of paying attention to your thoughts, feelings, and surroundings, has become something of a buzzword in the past couple of decades, and psychologists are concerned. More than just a meditation practice, mindfulness is an industry — with some proponents saying it can treat anxiety, cancer, and everything in between. The problem is, in many cases, those treatments haven’t sufficiently been scrutinized by trained professionals, and psychologists aren’t impressed.

In a 2017 paper published in the journal Perspectives on Psychological Science, a team of 15 psychiatrists, psychologists, and mindfulness experts from 15 different institutions outline the problems they see with the current state of the mindfulness industry and what might be done about it. In short, these experts are concerned with what they see: Lots of people and organizations — many of which are well-meaning — that have gotten overzealous as they make lots of money off of mindfulness therapies.

“In my opinion, there are far too many organizations, companies, and therapists moving forward with the implementation of ‘mindfulness-based’ treatments, apps, et cetera before the research can actually tell us whether it actually works, and what the risk-reward ratio is,” corresponding author and University of Melbourne research fellow Nicholas Van Dam, Ph.D. tells Inverse.  

“People are spending a lot of money and time learning to meditate, listening to guest speakers about corporate integration of mindfulness, and watching TED talks about how mindfulness is going to supercharge their brain and help them live longer. Best case scenario, some of the advertising is true. Worst case scenario: very little to none of the advertising is true and people may actually get hurt (e.g., experience serious adverse effects).”

Despite these criticisms of mindfulness, even major corporations like Google, General Mills, and Target have invested in mindfulness training to boost employees’ productivity. The British government is giving schoolchildren mindfulness training.

It may sound alarmist to say people could be hurt by a practice that seems as simple as taking deep breaths and being present in your body, but it’s important to remember that in many cases, people receiving mindfulness therapy may be living with very real mental health issues. There is some evidence that mindfulness-based therapies can help people with certain issues, like substance use, but it’s very limited. Van Dam and his colleagues worry that the overuse of mindfulness-based therapies could turn people off to the whole field before psychologists even figure out the best way to help them.

“I think the biggest concern among my co-authors and I is that people will give up on mindfulness and/or meditation because they try it and it doesn’t work as promised,” says Van Dam.

“There may really be something to mindfulness, but it will be hard for us to find out if everyone gives up before we’ve even started to explore its best potential uses.”

The authors of the study make their attitudes clear when it comes to the current state of the mindfulness industry: “Misinformation and poor methodology associated with past studies of mindfulness may lead public consumers to be harmed, misled, and disappointed,” they write. And while this comes off as unequivocal, some think they don’t go far enough in calling out specific instances of quackery.

“It’s not bare-knuckle, that’s for sure. I’m sure it got watered down in the review process,” James Coyne, Ph.D., an outspoken psychologist who’s extensively criticized the mindfulness industry, tells Inverse.

Coyne agrees with the conceptual issues outlined in the paper, specifically the fact that many mindfulness therapies are based on science that doesn’t really prove their efficacy, as well as the fact that researchers with copyrights on mindfulness therapies have financial conflicts of interest that could influence their research. But he thinks the authors are too concerned with tone policing.

“I do appreciate that they acknowledged other views, but they kept out anybody who would have challenged their perspective,” he says.

Regarding Coyne’s criticism about calling out individuals, Van Dam says the authors avoided doing that so as not to alienate people and stifle dialogue.

“I honestly don’t think that my providing a list of ‘quacks’ would stop people from listening to them,” says Van Dam. “Moreover, I suspect my doing so would damage the possibility of having a real conversation with them and the people that have been charmed by them.” If you need any evidence of this, look at David “Avocado” Wolfe, whose notoriety as a quack seems to make him even more popular as a victim of “the establishment.” So yes, this paper may not go so far as some would like, but it is a first step toward drawing attention to the often flawed science underlying mindfulness therapies.

Peter Hess is a writer living in New York. He is preoccupied with Star Wars and memes, but he writes about climate change, chatbots and ants. You may have seen his work in Popular Science, New Scientist and Motherboard.

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