#HOW COME I HAVE HARDLY SEEN ANY POSTS ABOUT IT

[lostpiewrites]

Hello, can I please request a second part of Umemiya, aaaa I loved it. I want to know how he's going to take care of his queen Ume. Maybe Higari told Sakura that Ume can't control himself if his sister Kotoha or, in this case, the reader gets hurt.

a/n : OMGOMG i am glad you liked ittt. 🩷My little blog is growing bigger by baby steps , i am shitting tears rn. 🥹 here we go with the second part. For anyone who is seing this post first , this is a continuation of the first part. You can read it here.

Gangs , Guns , Bitches (Pt.2) 🔪🩸

ft : Umemiya Hajime from Windbreaker.

synopsis : when a boy learns from his mistakes , he grows into a man.

You let go of the hug a few moments after. You were too tired and injured to talk. But you wanted to ask him things.

"Why Ume ?"

It was only plain two words , but heartbreak in your voice was loud and clear. It was plain but damn him if it didn't stab his heart and shatter it into pieces. He teared up.

"I am sorry. I should have explained. From the start."

Nothing else needed to be said between you because tears , hugs and unsteady limbs were talking loud enough. He let go of you to inspect your body all over. You were injured , hardly. It was a surprise how you were even conscious at this point. He looked back at the other boys from Furin , asking them to go arrange the nearest hospital for your treatment. His throat was locked up in suppressed need of crying and regret but only his closest friends , 4 kings, understood what was going on with him emotionally. You didn't last long awake and lost conscience again. He then gently scooped you up in his arms in a bridal style , slowly walking out of KEEL's hideout to take you to the said hospital.

During the walk there , the first years were stunned into silence. The 3rd and 2nd years have seen Umemiya lose his temper badly before when Kotoha was kidnapped in the same way as you last year but by another group and she returned home in a better condition than yours. But it was the 1st year's first time seeing their kindergarten-escapeé leader lose his cool and beat people to death instead of trying to talk and making compromises. Sakura was blinking rapidly , trying his ABSOLUTE VERY hardest to not blush in the adorable scene in front of him , he couldn't handle you and Umemiya's relationship at all , esp seeing it firsthand. He first thought that Kotoha was his gf and his poor cheeks were relieved when he learned she isn't but he actually had a gf ? Hiragi chuckled and patted his shoulder.

"You okay there our dearest tomato ? Better get you used to it. Now that the whole school has learned of them , y/n will be in our sight more often. She will now freely visit us at school because other gangs will probably hear about this and learn about her afterwards. Tho i have got to admit , it's only the 2nd time i have seen him like that. It only happened for Kotoha before , but now we have another woman on our 'die but protect her' list."

First years listened in as well even tho the talk was directed to Sakura. The last sentence was a gentle ask between friends , companions... They swore internally that they would help protecting you. Nirei was madly writing things down , opening a fresh page for your infos.

When you guys arrived at the hospital , even the doctor's who have supposedly seen worse winced at your injuries. No one questioned what happened but they saw Furin almost alltogether AND Umemiya , the village's no1 protector , is bringing an injured girl into the hospital in his own arms ? They would definitely treat you like royalty. A group of nurses rushed to bring you a hospital bed and carry you into the treatment room. They sew your wounds , put some ices on the bruises and inspected your body for any broken bones.

Umemiya was in distress , sitting outside of your room with Furin boys beside him and waiting for your examination to be over. When the nurse comes out he jolts up from his seat and goes to ask about you. The nurse reassures him that you aren't in a critic condition , but also tells that some of your knife injuries and bruises would leave permanent scars. He thanks the nurse and sits back down , lowering his head in shame. He failed to protect the dearest people to him from danger , yet again.

After a few days of intense medical treatment and physical therapy , you were now allowed to go back home. Umemiya takes you from the hospital back to your house and stays with you for weeks until everything is over. Helps you apply ointment to your wounds and bandages them back with care. Doesn't let you roam around the house doing chores for a looooong while. Then when everything is over and you don't have to bandage your wounds anymore , he cuddles you and kisses every permanent scar left. You laugh because it's ticklish but he doesn't. He regrets it , a lot... But now that you are still in his arms , he has one more chance to make everything right... Right ?

[daxaster]

HEY how come no one told me that in Final Frontier; Kirk, Spock, and McCoy literally go camping together and talk about how good friends they all are and enjoy spending time together and then try to fuckin sing campfire songs and Spock is roasting a marsh melon and then they all go to bed and say good night to each other one at a time???

[notmeowse]

That AMA marks the end of Dragon Age.

In my opinion.

I'll start by saying that I have played all 3 of the previous games repeatedly, I've loved the series for 15 years, more than half my life. These games inspired me to become a writer and they've shaped a lot of my tastes and interests in shows and writing -- to say they were formative is kind of an understatement. Don't want to go on and on about how much I loved them, that's not the point here.

I didn't care for Veilguard for pretty much all of the reasons people have already discussed at length on Reddit and Tumblr. The writing is comprehensively bad, the romances are easily the worst Bioware has written by pure virtue of having the most cookie-cutter pacing and shallow characterization I've seen across their games, the lore has been shafted in every direction, and the nuanced storytelling and roleplay I came to expect from the series has been taken out back and shot in the head.

All, apparently, in the name of a "clean slate". It seems to me that, rather than familiarizing himself with the existing lore of the game he took the creative reins on, Epler clearly had a vision for Dragon Age (or perhaps a different IP entirely) in his head that he decided to transplant into the game (and possibly Trick? But they've said so little beyond defending their work that I can hardly theorize what direction they were coming from). That being a sanitized, wildly self-contradicting, morally absolute shitshow focused on distancing itself from the previous games as much as possible. Now, I know it's unrealistic to blame one person entirely, and I don't blame him entirely. Corinne was there. Trick was there.

But if it wasn't already evident from the numerous interviews Epler's given on the game as well as his participation in the Q&A's (while the actual lead writer of the game has been completely absent in not just the marketing, but in most fan-related interaction pre and post-launch outside of BSKY), this AMA seems to have confirmed, more than anything else, that Epler doesn't understand the game nor does he understand its audience. Neither does Corinne Busche, who despite being Game Director for only the last two years of development, has been answering lore questions a) like she has any fucking clue and b) like she thinks Dragon Age is a cozy-gamer IP, meant to appeal to people that want uplifting stories with uncontroversial characters, morally upright heroes, and unquestionably evil villains.

So as of today's AMA, I think I've finally had enough. We're just outright retconning the lore in Reddit AMA's now, I guess. Among other things. I'll provide a few examples, just so we're all on the same page.

This was part of Epler's response to why Solas didn't have his cult following in the game (insert "We Kind of Forgot" meme here):

Solas' experience leading the rebellion against the Evanuris turned him against the idea of being a leader. You see it in the memories - the entire experience of being in charge ate at him and, ultimately, convinced him he needed to do this on his own. And his own motivations were very different from the motivations of those who wanted to follow him - he had no real regard for their lives or their goals. So at some point between Trespasser and DATV, he severed that connection with his 'followers' and went back to being a lone wolf.

The fact that this (the not caring bit) directly contradicts the writing in the actual game is absolutely INSANE to me, moreso than the lack of Solas's spy network (which he apparently carried with him for 10 years only to conveniently drop right before the ritual? Because he clearly had them research Rook?). But in regards to the not caring -- here's a line from Solas's memory of killing Mythal in Veilguard, which. I'll get to Mythal in a minute:

Why should I not tear down the Veil, and bring back immortality to all the elven people? They deserve it!

Which is it? Does Solas care about the people he's saving (the venn diagram of people he's saving vs. the people following him is surely a circle, i.e. elves) or not? Does he even care about the spirits trapped behind the Veil anymore or is it just convenient to abandon them and have him only care about elves, now? What happened to saving The People? What happened to him not identifying as an elf in his conversations with a Dalish Inquisitor? And what the absolute fuck happened to him wanting to bring back the magical marvels (that the ancient elves did in fact achieve) that were greater than anything we see in Thedas today? Here's what Epler has to say about elven magic, now:

I do agree that the elves have had their place in the sun at this point. [...] The thing about the Evanuris is that, ultimately, they were able to take a very specific type of magic and shape it into doing what they wanted. But even their understanding of magic was only skin deep [...] Even the magic that Tevinter wields, the magic of the Southern mages, is different from what the Evanuris used. The magic of the Evanuris is powerful but it's sterile, and it's constrained. So while the Evanuris have made magic work in a way that's more predictable and understandable, it's not the only kind of magic out there, and even then, I'd say they understood it at a very surface level. People were confidently describing how the natural world worked back in the 16th century. Very few of them were right.

First of all, Tevinter has been stated in previous games to have clumsily adapted ancient elven magic for their own, but they did adapt it. To the point where even Solas is surprised that Corypheus achieved effective immortality -- by binding himself to a dragon the same way the Evanuris did. So, cool, more contradicting the lore here. "They understood it at a very surface level" you mean when all of the magic of the Fade wasn't locked behind the Veil? You mean when magic flowed freely through the world? What do you mean, Surface Fucking Level? The entire point of the Dalish elf culture is what they lost; this wasn't the ancient elves thinking the sun revolved around the earth, the Veil was their fucking Library of Alexandria burning. Oh my god. I still cannot believe he said this.

And how have the elves had their day in the sun? I'm sorry, was Arlathan not given to... the Veil Jumpers? Instead of the Dalish? What happened to all the Dalish clans in the south, who had no infrastructure when the world was apparently blighted to hell? I guess they're just gone now! They've had their day! The story of the Dalish and the Evanuris is over (also confirmed in this AMA), and it apparently ends with the final snuff of the candle that is their culture. Congratulations, Chantry, you've won! Only took two genocides and a double blight, but we're done with the Dalish now! We get your mind-numbingly superficial factions instead!

What happened to Mythal, by the way? What happened to "She was betrayed as I was betrayed, as the world was betrayed! Mythal clawed and crawled her way through the ages to me, and I will see her avenged!" What happened to the reckoning that will shake the very heavens? John's answer to this:

People grow and change over time. Mythal's essence - and in particular, the fragment of her spirit that Morrigan carries, that she got from Flemeth - is not the same Mythal who he knew millennia ago. Centuries of living in this world and being around the kinds of people Flemeth found herself around - the Hero of Ferelden, Hawke, the Inquisitor - changed her views, and made her realize her own culpability in turning Solas into the kind of person he is now.

Oh, right, okay. So she was pissed for like a thousand years, got her big speech about the impending "reckoning" out 10 years ago, and then she just chilled out because the last 3 heroes were neat people. What a fucking joke. And yes, here is the confirmation that the Evanuris story is over --

The story of the Evanuris is done - the gods are dead (or imprisoned) and Thedas is in a state of flux and uncertainty. I imagine that whatever happens next is going to be a surprise to everyone, including the people of Thedas."

So I guess Mythal's reckoning is never coming. One of the most fascinating characters in the series, shrouded in mystery for those first 3 games, PROMISING US a blaze of glory, only to fizzle out in this one. Again, and I can't emphasize this enough, for Epler's clean fucking slate. And we've not just tied up her story, but also the Veil and the Blight:

When Solas bound himself (or, depending on your ending, was forcibly bound) to the Veil, it severed the connection that the Blight had to the waking world. The reality is that the Veil has been leaking ever since the Magisters first entered the Black City, and the dreams of the Titans gave it its terrible and awesome power. Now that the Veil is fully repaired, the Blight lacks that motive force, and being so close to the epicenter of that change has stripped the Blight in Minrathous of its vitality. It's calcified now - dead - and Bellara/Neve no longer suffer its effects. If they'd been anywhere else, further from that epicenter, it would've likely been different and they still would be looking for a cure.

So the Veil is permanently fixed now because our half-dead Dread Wolf bound himself to it (a decision I still don't understand) and that somehow fixed every single hole ever poked in it. Fully repaired. No more holes, no more "Veil is thin here" because tons of people died in the same spot, nope, we're washing our hands and leaving it (and the spirits) behind us because we've wrapped up both the series-long Veil storyline and the blight storyline in a big red bow.

And Epler tells us Solas not only bound himself to the Veil but fixed it entirely in one fell swoop, no ritual required, just a little slice to the hand. Again, all in the name of a clean slate, so any future installments or media centered around Thedas can turn away from this story.

Then there's this. What we can expect from future installments, I freaking guess. The aforementioned roleplay getting taken out back and shot:

Q: "What lead you to the decision to step away from active conversations with the companions as in previous Bioware games, where you can initiate them at any moment and ask exhaustive questions?"

John: "For us, because of tech limitations, it became a choice between exhaustive investigate conversations, or letting the companions move more freely around the Lighthouse. With the kind of experience we were going for, one where seeing the team grow around you is paramount, we felt that seeing them interact in common spaces (and in each other's rooms) made more sense."

Literally confirmed that they chose companions moving freely about the cabin over ... interacting with them outside the handful of cutscenes we got. Who in their right mind would think this was a good call in a Dragon Age game? A series that quite literally prides itself on complex character interactions and storytelling? So they could... sit in different places? Are you kidding me?

They don't see an issue with the game's reception. They don't have any interest in addressing or responding to criticism. They're either happy with their choices or EA's got a gun pointed at their heads, I'm honestly not sure anymore. I used to believe the latter was true, but looking at both Epler's and Busche's responses today, I'm inclined to believe the former.

So I think that's it for the series. Not that I thought it was going to get another game after this, but on the absolute off chance it did, what would be the point? The best stories were ruined. Anything left they have to tell is going to read a lot like Veilguard -- superficial, morally absolute, flagrantly disrespectful to the lore, and delivered in a very poorly written package.

[ace-turned-confused]

love thy neighbour

joel masterlist | read on ao3

pairing: joel miller x f!reader summary: you visit your parents for the holidays, and their new neighbour joel miller makes the trip far more exciting. word count: 3,6k warnings: 18+ only, reader is able-bodied & wears a skirt, food & alcohol consumption, christmas & new year celebrations, unspecified age gap, joel gets a sneak peak, smut, fingering, unprotected p in v, spanking, creampie hallelujah, come eating, dirty talk, praise kink a/n: MERRY VERY LATE SECRET SANTA EM @hellfire-state-of-mind !!!! this is over a month late and i've never felt more guilty about something in my life. ilsm you are a GEM! i hope this makes you twirl your hair and kick your feet and melt into a puddle, as you requested. 💛 this is the first fic i’ve managed to finish since SEPTEMBER and idk i’m just proud of myself, times are tough. 🫡 not beta'd

The neighbourhood has hardly changed since your last visit — no fresh coats of paint, no new landscaping, no new drama. The one thing that has changed, is a new face that’s moved in across the street from your parents. He waved to you the first time you passed each other, flashed a contagious smile and a cheeky wink as he collected his post and headed back inside his own home. You’ve been hooked since then.

Your childhood bedroom has a wide window that faces the street, with a clear view of the front of his house. Whether arriving home or leaving, or simply standing talking to someone, you always admired him. You made a habit of going out too — sometimes for no real reason — on the off chance you’d get a closer look at him.

He caught you staring one day as you dared to walk on his side of the street and met him in his driveway — brown tangled curls laced with silver, broad shoulders and arms that filled out his sleeves — you shot your eyes up before you could look any lower, a small smirk and knowing look on his face as he turned around to walk away. He hasn’t given you his name and you haven’t been bold enough to ask. You still stare, just not when he’s looking.

-

Your parents told you the house would be quiet this Christmas, with no extended family or friends — just the three of you spending some quality time together while you’re visiting for the holidays.

It's mid-Christmas morning and you’ve exchanged presents with your parents, with plenty of smiles, hugs and thanks. Your mom sets the table and your dad checks on the food while you get ready for lunch, still wanting to dress nice for the occasion. You hear the doorbell ring through your door, followed by muffled voices. Satisfied with your appearance, you head for the living room, a deep and unfamiliar voice becoming clearer as you enter the room.

There he is — the hot and mysterious neighbour you’ve been drooling over from across the road.

Your mom turns to you as you stand, fiddling with your clothes and unsure how to act.

“Oh, you’re finished! This is Joel, have you met already?”

“No, haven’t had the pleasure,” Joel cuts in and answers for you, standing before you with an outstretched hand. You take it, his hand dwarfing yours, calloused fingers rough against your palm.

“He’s on his own for Christmas, so I invited him to join us.” Your mom smiles at you. “It’s only us three, there’s plenty of food and Christmas cheer to go around!” She claps her hands together, waltzing away to the table.

Joel gives you that same cheeky wink and smile you’ve seen before, but up close it has a much stronger effect than you were prepared for — it’s going to be a long day.

-

Everyone sticks to the usual mundane topics of the weather and traffic and the best fertiliser to use for the lawn. You don’t say too much through lunch, distracted by Joel’s voice and charm and the occasional smouldering look he throws you. Every time you glance at him, he’s already staring at you.

When your parents get up to clear the table once everyone’s well-fed, you jump up instead and volunteer — if you have to watch Joel any longer you might just jump at him across the table, to hell with your parents. His eyes follow you over their shoulders as you leave the room, plates in hand. You look back to the table one last time, catching his eye as he smirks and takes a swig of his drink.

You start to rinse off the plates and put leftovers into containers, laughter and quiet chatter sounding from the dining room. Joel wanders into the kitchen and sets his glass down, leaning against the counter next to you and looking around the room.

“So, uh,” you clear your throat, awkwardly trying to make conversation and avoid embarrassing yourself. “When did you move here?”

“Couple months ago, nice neighbourhood… even better now, though.” You can see him grinning in your peripheral vision.

“Are you coming to my parents’ New Year’s Eve party?”

“I am, why? You lookin’ for your midnight kiss?” he teases.

“I have plans already,” you scoff at him, “I actually wanna have fun on New Year’s, thank you.”

“Suit yourself,” he falls silent and angles himself closer to you. “You make the dessert?”

“Mhm.”

“Nice ‘n sweet.” He grabs the dessert bowl from your hands and drags two fingers along the inside.

You watch him, your lips parting as he sucks his fingers into his mouth and licks them clean. What would it feel like if those were your fingers instead? Or, better yet, if he shoved his fingers into your mouth?

He pulls his fingers out and opens his mouth to say something more, but he’s interrupted by your parents as they enter the room. He shoots you his signature wink before giving them his attention, and that’s the last you see of him.

-

The week after Christmas flashes by.

You bailed on your original plans of partying with your friends, coughing up a poor excuse why you couldn't go out with them anymore — with Joel coming to your parents' house again, it’s the first time in years you're willing to spend the otherwise boring last night of the year at home. Maybe you’re foolish for lusting after him, but that’s what New Year’s is for.

After spending the afternoon plating snacks, chilling drinks and fluffing pillows, you now pace in your room, deciding what to wear tonight. Your pre-picked club outfit is far too disrespectful for the new company you’ll be in tonight, but maybe you could make parts of it work…

You ditch the stockings and swap out the heels for flats. Your skirt stops mid-thigh once you make some adjustments, and change your risque top for a more neighbour-friendly one with ties in the front — if you look hard enough you can still spot your bra peeking through the gaps, but nobody here tonight should be doing that anyways. Except for Joel, maybe. You make sure it’s a decent bra in case he does. After all the effort you’ve gone through, you hope he does.

Hijacking the aux as soon as you come out into the living room again — you do not trust your dad’s music choices — you sit pretty with a drink in hand as everyone from up and down the street starts arriving.

You’re cornered by The Nosy Old Couple, getting grilled about jobs, partners and general life choices when Joel walks in. He looks around the room as your parents greet him, eyes finding yours as you try signalling him to rescue you. He simply smirks before turning and walking away — that bastard.

-

Joel watches you the whole night. He really shouldn’t — the neighbour's daughter, definitely too pretty and likely too young — but he can't find it in himself to care. What's the harm in a bit of holiday fun?

He could have saved you from that gruelling conversation, but then he’d have to let you go sooner. And it would look rude, strange, even, to tell your father, thanks for the welcome, but I’d rather spend the night chattin’ up your daughter.

So he settles for watching, for now at least.

The shift from a forced smile to a genuine one, your shoulders relaxing as you get yourself another drink and keep yourself in decent company. His eyes roam now, and he allows himself to stare while in your calm state, the same way you’ve always stared at him from across the street.

The way your lips part and slide over the rim of your glass, the delicate grip of your fingers, the hint of lacy fabric in the gaps in your top. Your almost-too-short skirt and how it hikes up when you cross your legs. Would you let him pull the ties loose and watch it fall open? Glide his hands up your legs and underneath your skirt?

You stand and laugh at someone's joke, reaching for your things. Something falls out of your grasp and you bend over to pick it up, your panties peeking out from underneath your skirt, just for him to see. His jeans tighten just so, the air in the room heating up as he clears his throat. He should look away, but he keeps staring, his own lips parting now as he imagines what’s beneath that fabric.

You turn around and catch his eye, all unassuming and innocent. He wonders if you know what you’ve done. You walk towards him, maintaining that look, and it’s evident you’re unaware. He’ll make sure to tell you.

-

Most of the night has passed already, and you finally get to talk to Joel.

“So much for those plans you had for tonight.” He leans towards you as people push past behind him, raising his voice above the music.

“Oh, uh, my friends cancelled, so…”

“Still hopin’ for a night of fun?”

“Are you offering?”

He downs the rest of his drink, jaw ticked to one side as he stares you down. He dips to speak in your ear, “You should be careful next time you’re bendin’ over in this little skirt of yours, sweetheart… I could see those pretty panties from a mile away.”

You step back from him, mouth agape at his admission — he just smirks at you, his eyes darkening. You hoped Joel would look at you tonight, but it was a long shot. You're deciding what to say when everyone gathers in the lounge — your dad’s put a countdown on the TV, and it’s a minute before midnight. You pull Joel into the hallway, away from the crowd and out of sight.

“So, you gonna kiss me at midnight or not?” You spin to face him, leaning against the wall with a naughty smile.

“I reckon your parents won't be too pleased havin’ their daughter kissin’ an old man like me.” He stands firm, arms folded across his chest.

“Well, they wouldn’t be too happy having an old man like you looking up my skirt…” You trail off, distracted by his arms.

“You’re the dirty girl bendin’ over and flashin’ her panties. Would you have wanted me to look away?”

He unfolds his arms and grabs the back of your neck, pulling you to meet him as he leans to kiss you, his beard and moustache scratching against your skin and you reach up to hold his arms. It’s rushed and desperate and over before you can take in what’s happened, but god you need it to happen again.

He looks around at everyone cheering, hugging each other and topping up their drinks. He grabs your wrist and pulls you through the house without a word.

-

Joel sneaks you out of the house and drags you across the street towards his own. Your eyes linger on his shoulders and back as he unlocks his door. He turns a lamp on once inside and closes the door behind you both, pinning you against it.

“What are you doing?” You ask lazily, taking in his features in such close proximity.

“Givin’ you that night of fun you were wantin’.”

He kisses you again, licking into your mouth and taking his time now as he runs his hands down your body, lifting your skirt to bunch it around your waist. He pushes one hand down between your legs to cup you over your panties and you grind into him — subtly at first, but it’s enough for him to notice and he smiles against you.

“That needy already, huh?” He says lowly, huffing a laugh when you whimper quietly. “Don’t gotta be quiet, sweetheart. Why you think I dragged you here? Ain’t gonna be much fun if I can’t hear how good I make ya feel.”

He spins you around and walks you towards his couch, backing you into the armrest. He pulls the ties on your top and drops it to the floor, fixated on the lace now in full view. He squeezes your breasts, fingers tweaking your nipples through the fabric as he looks up at you again.

“You wear this lacy number every day? Or just on special occasions?”

“Mm-mm,” you shake your head, lips parted as he keeps working his fingers, “I wore it just for tonight, for you… in case you noticed it.”

“Oh, I noticed alright,” he chuckles.

His fingers slow down and his hands begin to roam again. You take the reprieve to lift his shirt over his head and drift your hands down his bare chest. You stare at his broad shoulders and torso, almost in awe, as you reach for his belt buckle and undo it. It clinks against the floor, and you make quick work of his jeans, popping the button and undoing the zip. He dips down to kiss you, his hands bumping into yours as he pulls his jeans down and off.

It was mostly a joke when you said you wanted a night of fun — you never expected something like this to happen.

Joel kisses you again, inching along your jaw and down your neck while his hands continue their blind exploration of your skin, caressing and groping and digging into any part of you he gets ahold of. You reach to palm his bulge through his underwear, hard and heavy as heat radiates off of him through the worn fabric.

He shucks your skirt down and off, leaving it in the same growing pile of clothes, his fingers zeroing in on your covered clit. You moan at his movements and he lifts off of you to take in the sight.

He grabs your waist to turn you around, holding you flush to him as he gropes your breasts and grinds into you. You push back against him, a fresh wave of arousal soaking into your panties, his hot breath fanning against the shell of your ear.

“You ready for that fun?”

“Please, Joel,” you whine.

“S’what I like to hear.”

He pushes you down over the arm of the couch, chest flush with the cushions and ass up in the air. He rubs his fingers up and down over the damp gusset of your panties and pulls them down, leaving them hanging around your knees. Now with no barrier, he traces a single finger through your folds, already sticky with need and prods your entrance before repeating the motion.

“Even prettier than that little preview you gave me, she’s soaked for me already.”

His breathing sounds laboured behind you, and you turn as best you can to watch him, eyes falling on his hand as he strokes himself, thick and throbbing.

“This what you wanted? This what you still want?”

You smile almost drunkardly at him, huffing a laugh as you nod, facing forward to rest your head on the couch again.

“Remember, I wanna hear all those noises you can make — dirty girl like you, I’m sure you sound gorgeous.”

He replaces his finger with the head of his cock, dragging himself against you and coating the length of him in your wetness. He slips in slowly, his hands in a bruising grip on your hips as he pulls out only to push in even further. The music from your parents’ party fades from your mind when he finally bottoms out; Joel sighs and you groan as he holds your ass flush against his hips. He stays there, grinding into you and never pulling back.

“Jesus, feels like heaven…”

All you do is whine in response — partly unsure if he wanted a response, and partly unable to say anything else — overwhelmed by Joel and finally getting what you’ve been dreaming of since you first laid eyes on him.

“How you want this, sweetheart?”

A moment passes and he smacks your ass when you don’t answer him. He leans over you, letting his body weight push you deeper into the couch cushions, pushing his cock deeper into you in the process.

“Cause this is how I see it… Your little friends didn’t cancel your plans, did they? They’re all still goin’ out on the town tonight and doing God knows what and fuckin’ anything with a pulse. But you backed out, thought maybe you’d stay home 'cause if there’s anyone you’re gonna fuck tonight, it’s me. Ain’t that right?”

You’re silent again, both annoyed that he has you figured out and relishing that he's on top of you like this.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He lifts himself off you and pulls almost all the way out, leaving just his tip inside your cunt. “Be good and I’ll give ya a real fun story for your friends.”

He spanks you again, giving you no time to react as he snaps his hips into you. You screw your face up at the stretch as he does it again and sets a steady rhythm, the room filled with gasps and grunts and heavy breathing. He smacks you a third time and you moan, loud and unabashedly and you hear Joel chuckling behind you.

“That’s it, good girl. Wanna hear you, sweetheart, hear how good I’m makin’ you feel.”

He’s reaching a spot nobody else has before — undoubtedly the most experienced man with the biggest dick you’ve ever seen — and you know your back is going to be fucked in the morning from how he’s got you draped over his couch, your hips will be tender for days with how tight he’s holding you, and you might not walk straight for a week, but God are you glad you bailed on those original plans.

As heavenly as it is already, you still need just that little bit more. Joel’s already clocked you once, and he’s done it again as he wraps an arm around your torso to pull you up again, his pace never faltering as he presses his chest to your back. The new angle has you seeing stars, and he pushes his free hand down to circle your clit.

“You hear that? Hear how wet you are? God, if I’d known you were gonna take my cock so well I woulda fucked you on Christmas… maybe even before that. You think anyone’s wonderin’ where we are? Anyone smart enough to put the pieces together?”

You clench around him at his lewd confessions and beg him to keep going, so close to reaching your end.

“You gonna come on my cock for me?” He breathes against you, his thrusts becoming clumsier the longer he goes on. “Come on, sweetheart, know you want to. Been such a good girl, lettin’ me fuck this sweet pussy.”

A few thrusts and swipes of his fingers over your clit later and you're tightening around him, head thudding against him as you reach up to grab the arm that’s wound around your chest. Your nails carve crescent moons in his skin and you yell out, and he keeps pistoning into you through your orgasm to chase his own.

His filthy words turn into mere ramblings, muffled when he lowers his face to drag his lips against your skin and breathe you in, tightening his arms around you. His breathing heavy, small moans turn into grunts and groans as he fucks into you one last time, holding you in place as he empties himself inside of you, warm and filling.

He keeps you there, both of you panting for air as you come down and he pulls out with a hiss. He turns you around to face him — you’re still dazed when he leans to kiss you, calm and kind as he cradles your cheeks.

His hands wander down your body and he follows suit, coasting his lips down over your bra between your breasts, over your stomach until he’s crouching in front of you. He peers up at you, pupils still blown wide as he thumbs your folds apart, captivated by how his spend seeps out of you. His tongue darts out, eyes fluttering closed as he tastes himself and licks you clean.

He stands now and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, pulling your panties up and straightening the elastic. His fingers linger on your skin before reaching to do the same with your skirt. He does up his jeans and shakes out his t-shirt, his gaze staying on you while you ensure the gaps in your top are no bigger than when you snuck away from home.

“Maybe we should, uh, get back…” You trail off, boldness quickly fading as you start to second-guess tonight.

“Yeah, yeah,” he nods, opening the front door. “So, when you comin’ round again?”

“Huh?”

“What, you really wanna sneak around your parent’s house instead?”

“No! God, no,” you laugh, shoulders relaxing and Joel smiles at you. “I just wasn’t sure if… I don’t want to sound overeager or anything…” “Nothin’ wrong with that, sweetheart. Besides, I know what I’m doin’ next time.” He winks at you, glancing across the street in thought. The party still seems to be going strong. “Night doesn’t have to end right now, anyways.”

He ushers you out the door with a smack to your ass, leaving you giddy and giggling as he locks his door again. You both head back towards the party, bumping into each other as you walk. You smile at Joel and he winks at you one last time before you crack open the door, excited about what the rest of your time here might hold.

np taglist for some pookies who showed interest:

@almostempty @joelmillerisapunk @djarins-cyare @burntheedges @milla-frenchy

@604to647 @evolnoomym @beefrobeefcal @whocaresstillthelouvre @bitchesuntitled

@sizzlingcloudmentality @sixhours @strang3lov3 @guiltyasdave @morallyinept

@mermaidgirl30 @bbyanarchist @vichons @angiewatson @professionalpromqueen

@lordhurn @pidgeispunk @letsgobarbs

comments & reblogs are hugely appreciated, forehead kisses to all 💜

dividers by @strangergraphics

[delulujuls]

healing sessions | aegon II targaryen

hi, it's been a hot minute since i posted here, the last weeks were pretty intense for me and since i have a summer break now, i would like to start writing again and do it more regularly.

this is something new here and since new episode of hotd dropped, im in my westeros era, so please prepare for something other than my last shots (i will still write for f1, don't worry)

and lemme set this straight, im team black till the day i die but those green bastards are FINE AS HELL lmao. also @alicenthightcwer is author of those gifts

summary: aegon isn't dealing well with his father loss, but gladly there is someone who's gonna do her best to lift his spirit a bit

warnings: it's fluff without basically any plot, sister x brother romance so targaryens at their finest, mentions of death, depression, alcohol, drugs

pairing: sister!reader x aegon targaryen

The news of King Viserys's death did not surprise the residents of King's Landing. Nonetheless, the loss of the kind ruler dealt a painful blow to the city, which seemed to freeze in time with the king's passing. The capital plunged into mourning, and in addition to the banners, black flags were hoisted. Westeros was left without a king.

Viserys's successor, his second child and first son, Aegon Targaryen, had not been seen since the king's funeral. Aegon had lost not just a king but, most importantly, a father who, unfortunately for him, named him the future ruler on his deathbed.

Aegon would have gladly given the throne to Rhaenyra, his older half-sister. He would have done it without hesitation, even placing the crown on her head himself. Unfortunately, his mother Alicent, who was with her dying husband and heard his wish to elevate their eldest son to the throne, decided to fulfill her beloved husband's last wish at any cost.

To be honest, Aegon couldn't care less about being king. The young prince had not left his bed for several days, thick curtains blocking any light from outside. Occasionally, servants were allowed into his chambers, but only with wine and poppy milk. Aegon did not eat, allowed no one near him, and slept. Sleep was his salvation. Even the prostitutes, who once outnumbered the rats in the castle, were no longer summoned. The fiery prince had dimmed.

Alicent knew she needed to give her son time to grieve. She didn't bother him, only inquiring about his condition from the servants who managed to enter his chambers. It was enough for her to know that he was alive. Aegon's siblings dealt with their grief in their own ways, and his condition hardly impressed anyone. Except for Y/N, who, despite her own pain, worried about her brother. Sitting at breakfast, she silently observed Aegon's chair, which remained empty. After her husband's death, Alicent decreed that all meals, not just dinners, be taken together. The firstborn had not appeared at any of them since.

After a silent breakfast punctuated by brief, formal conversations, Y/N stood up and grabbed a plate, filling it with Aegon's favorite croissants and a portion of strawberries. She was done pretending nothing was wrong. This had to end.

"You shouldn't go to him," Alicent said quietly as the servants began clearing the table. "You know him, he'll come out when he's ready."

"Or he'll drink himself to death first," she replied, not even glancing at her mother. Alicent clasped her hands and pressed them to her lips, watching her family fall apart without knowing how to stop it.

Y/N left the dining room and went to Aegon's chambers. She knocked first, wanting to maintain decorum, but knowing it was futile, she grabbed the handle and pushed the heavy door open. Inside was darkness. Only a nearly spent candle by the bed gave off any light; the room looked like a cave. She blindly set the plate on a table, and with arms outstretched, she made her way to the windows. With a swift motion, she drew the curtains, and even she was blinded by the sudden light that flooded in. Not hearing any curses from her brother, Y/N looked over her shoulder. On the large bed, a figure lay curled up, back to her. From the waist down, he was covered with a sheet that blended with his pale skin. White hair in disarray touched the crumpled pillow. Aegon was either in a deep sleep or dead.

Y/N opened the curtains at every window, flinging some open. The room was stuffy, reeking of stale alcohol, sweat, and the sweet scent of poppy milk. She circled the bed, crouching opposite her brother. He was indeed asleep, but his breathing was shallow. His lips were cracked, stained with dried blood. His eyelashes were matted with tears, and dark circles marred his eyes. There was a bruise under his left eye that was different from the ones under his eyes, as it began to fade and turn from purple to green. Y/N remembered her mother, who had been rubbing her hand while sitting at the table for several days. She could only guess that Alicent was trying to shake her son off in her own way.

Aegon slept, lying on his side and hugging himself, seeking comfort only he could provide. Y/N brushed the tangled strands from his forehead and kissed him. Aegon did not stir.

The princess knew he wouldn't allow servants to tend to him. She left the room quietly, asking the maids to prepare a hot bath quickly and silently. Y/N returned and sat beside him on the bed, gently stroking his head.

Aegon wasn't the bad person many thought him to be. True, he was unique, and in a room full of people, he was impossible to ignore, but no one is born evil. Now, Aegon was simply engulfed in darkness from which he couldn't free himself. The slender, sticky fingers of depression had tightened around his throat, allowing only alcohol to pass.

After some time, a maid stood by the bed, whispering that the bath was ready, nervously glancing at the sleeping prince, afraid of waking him up. Y/N thanked and dismissed her, then leaned in and kissed her brother's forehead again.

"Aegon..." she began softly, close to his ear. "Wake up, I have strawberries for you."

He furrowed his brow, feeling her hair tickle his face. At first, he thought it was a dream or a drunken hallucination, but when he felt the urge to sneeze, he wiped his face with his hand. When he opened his heavy eyelids and saw how bright it was, he pulled the pillow over his head.

"I said no one was to come in," he muttered, his voice muffled by the pillow. "I'll have you killed for this."

"It's nice to see you too, considering I haven't seen you in over a week," she replied, sitting back on his bed and placing the breakfast she brought on the table beside him.

Hearing the familiar voice and wanting to ensure it wasn't a drunken hallucination, Aegon removed the pillow from his face, clutching it to his chest. From squinted eyes, his violet gaze spotted a well-known figure.

"Y/N?" he asked hoarsely, his voice betraying that he'd only spoken to chase away servants in the past days.

"Yes, it's me," she nodded. "And if you still want to kill me, you'll have to get out of bed, which I doubt you can do."

Aegon sighed, more of a grunt of dissatisfaction. He wanted to cover his face with the pillow again, but his sister took it and easily pulled it from his arms.

"Did you come here just to make my life more miserable?" he groaned, looking at her with displeasure.

"I came to stop what you thought was the best solution," Y/N explained. "I brought you breakfast and a hot bath."

"I don't want breakfast or a bath," Aegon replied, turning onto his other side. "And you can leave. Tell mother I'm not dead yet."

"I'm not leaving until you get out of bed," she informed him, staring at his back.

"Then enjoy your stay," he muttered, closing his eyes again.

Y/N sighed. She knew it might be hard, but in a few days, she had almost forgotten her brother's character. And Aegon's character was sometimes the textbook definition of a Targaryen.

"I came here because I want to help you," Y/N began, feeling a lump in her throat. "No one talks to each other, and when they do, it's just some fucking formalities. Aemond flies on Vhagar every day, Helaena spends hours in the garden with her books, Rhaenyra has been on Dragonstone since the funeral, mother is banging with Cole at every turn, and I don't even know if you're alive," she said in one breath, feeling tears prickling her eyes. Only when she said it all out loud did she realize what was happening. It wasn't just about informing Aegon; it was about making herself understand. The truth hurt her even more than she expected.

Hearing his sister's trembling and upset voice, Aegon sighed and turned onto his back, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. Only now could his sister see his full appearance. It was the image of a boy deep in mourning and struggling with unimaginable pain.

For a moment, they exchanged looks in silence until Aegon glanced at the nightstand beside his bed.

"Did you bring strawberries?"

She reached for the plate and placed it on the bed next to her brother. Aegon weakly lifted his hand and took one, eating it whole, including the stem.

"Croissants with filling?" he asked, chewing. Y/N nodded again.

"Nut and chocolate," she answered. Aegon silently took a croissant and slowly began to eat.

Y/N quickly wiped her cheeks as two single tears escaped from the corners of her eyes. The young prince looked at his sister, who also seemed different than he remembered from a few days ago. Her hair was still neatly combed, with a few small braids woven into it. The dark red dress, which he thought he had seen her wear before, now seemed to hang a bit loosely on her shoulders and wrinkle at the stomach. The color of the dress reminded him of the bloody cuticles around her nails, which she must have bitten out of nerves. Her face, still beautiful, was now paler than usual, almost as white as her hair. Her swollen eyes lacked their usual sparkle, and her lips seemed to have completely forgotten what a smile was.

"How are you feeling?" he asked after a moment when he had finished eating. Y/N pushed the plate closer to him, and as he reached for another croissant, she only shrugged.

"I'm sad. And I sleep poorly," she replied, staring out the window.

"You know, poppy milk—", "I won't drink it," she interrupted him.

Aegon raised his hands in a defensive gesture, taking another bite of the croissant.

"And you?" she asked, looking at him. "How are you feeling?"

He also shrugged.

"I don't even know. Now I think I feel nothing," he said, looking back at her. "Most of the time I feel nothing, except when a wave of sadness hits, and then I cry like a child until I fall asleep again."

Y/N nodded silently. She could tell that Aegon had spent many hours crying.

He put the last piece of croissant in his mouth and reached for a strawberry, handing it to his sister. She took it and ate it, nodding with appreciation.

"Not bad, right?" Aegon said, seeing her reaction. "Unusually sweet for this time of year."

Y/N let out an involuntary snort, lowering her head. Their father was dead, the country was without a king, the family was falling apart, and this idiot was talking about how great the strawberries were.

"They really are good, I don't know what you mean," he replied, taking the last strawberry and popping it into his mouth. The girl smiled, for the first time in a long while, then looked at her brother.

"I miss you, you know?"

"I'm not dead yet," he said sarcastically, rubbing his face with his hands. Y/N set the plate aside, and Aegon extended his arm toward her, silently inviting a hug. The girl shook her head and stood up.

"Maybe I miss you, but not enough to hug you after so many days without a bath," she replied, nodding her head towards the bathroom.

"You've got to be kidding," he snorted, but she shook her head again and pointed to the bathroom. Aegon sighed and slid off the bed, looking at her reproachfully the entire time. When he stood, the sheet slipped off completely, and he, naked and unbothered, walked unsteadily toward the bathroom. Y/N asked the servants to change his bedding and clean the room while she locked herself in the bathroom with him. As he sat in the water, she perched on the edge of the tub, rolling up the sleeves of her dress.

She reached for the nearby comb and slowly began to untangle his matted hair. They both remained silent, as words were completely unnecessary at that moment. After a while, she put the comb down and picked up the sponge, wetting it and pouring water over his hair. Aegon closed his eyes and tilted his head forward.

Y/N grabbed the soap and lathered it in her hands, adding a few drops of lavender oil. Aegon smiled as the familiar, pleasant scent filled the air, while she began to wash his hair. He sat there with his eyes closed, allowing his sister to take care of him. Aegon felt that of everyone in the family, only Y/N truly cared about him. Despite being the second youngest sibling, just after Helaena, he had always gotten along best with her. They were almost inseparable, always sitting together at feasts, stuffing sweets into their pockets to eat later in the garden when they managed to escape the table. Rhaenyra, their half-sister, was always the oldest and most composed. Aemond, younger than Aegon, was calm and collected but could stab a knife into someone’s neck without blinking if provoked. Helaena lived in her own world, surrounded by books, flowers, and maesters who had tried to help her ever since they noticed something was off with the growing princess. Aegon was often irreformable, acting and speaking first and thinking later. When he was younger, he was incredibly unruly, the mastermind behind every wild idea that Y/N almost always eagerly supported. The young princess loved her brother, who always tried to make her smile. Aegon loved his sister and knew that of all the people in the castle, she was the only one he would kill for and die for either.

Young prince winced quietly when Y/N, massaging his tense shoulders, ran her thumb over a particularly tight muscle.

"You're as hard as a rock," she said, continuing to massage his back. Aegon smiled to himself.

"Not quite yet," he joked.

She rolled her eyes and soaked the sponge again, rinsing the soap off his back with warm water. As she got up to stoke the fire, Aegon submerged himself in the water, washing the soap off himself and his hair. After a moment, he sat up straight and wiped his face off, leaning on the sides of the tub. He silently watched his sister, whose silhouette was highlighted by the flickering fire in the fireplace. Her white, slightly wavy hair cascaded down her back. The young prince smiled and bit his lip. Blood of my blood.

When Y/N finished tending to the fire, she stood up and dusted off her hands. She looked up, feeling her brother's gaze on her. He watched her in silence.

"Care to join?" he asked, glancing at the tub before looking back at her.

She shook her head, stepping closer and looking at the murky water. "I think I'll pass this time."

Aegon extended his hand toward her, and she gave him hers, which he pressed to his lips, planting a wet kiss on her skin. She smiled at his gesture.

"I'll go dismiss the servants," she said, stroking his cheek. "Make sure you wash away all the sadness."

The princess left the bathroom and returned to the chambers. They looked much better now, with two servants finishing changing the bed linens. When they were done, she thanked and dismissed them. She approached the large wardrobe, looking for clean clothes for her brother. She planned to get him outside for a walk, even if just a short one.

She placed the clothes on a chair and sat on the bed, running her hand over the freshly made bedding. Shortly after, Aegon emerged from the bathroom, not bothering to cover himself with even a towel.

When he stood in the doorway, Y/N involuntarily looked up at him. She looked him up and down, causing Aegon to smile.

"Like what you see?" he asked, approaching the bed without taking his eyes off her.

"I'm just checking if you washed yourself properly," she retorted, lifting her head to meet his gaze when he stood right in front of her.

Aegon still wore a faint smile as he cupped her face, his thumb stroking her cheek. His pale skin had gained a bit of color from the hot bath, but he had goosebumps from the cool, fresh breeze coming through the windows. The dark circles under his eyes were still visible, but his gaze was now clear and certain, darkening as he was looking at his sister.

"I missed you too," he said after a moment of silence, during which they exchanged looks. He brushed his thumb over her lower lip. "Make love with me."

It wasn't a command or even a request. It was a quiet murmur filled with desperation, almost sounding like a plea. Aegon needed to feel her warmth, needed to feel something other than the alcoholic breath of death that placed cold kisses on him.

She silently stood from the bed, and before he could say anything, she touched his cheek and kissed him. Aegon wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close, returning the kiss. Blindly, he started to fumble with the ties of her dress, but seeing his struggle, she began undressing herself. He cupped her face in his hands, kissing her tenderly. When she loosened her corset, Aegon grabbed the bottom of her gown and quickly pulled it over her head, tossing it aside. She shivered at the sudden chill but soon felt Aegon's warm body against her skin. He smiled into her mouth.

"You're so soft," he whispered between kisses, holding her tightly as if he wanted to lock her inside his ribcage. "Go on, lie down."

She obeyed, positioning herself comfortably on a pile of pillows. Aegon hovered over her, kissing her gently. Their hands tangled in each other's hair, touching and grasping every bit of skin they could reach. Lips swollen from kissing released soft sighs and moans mixed with tender words.

Aegon could be gentle, delicate, and caring. He wasn't like this with the whores he sometimes brought to his chambers to relieve himself and kill boredom. But he loved his sister dearly and would never harm her.

The young prince couldn't remember the first time his sister came to his chambers and stayed the night. It was probably before their father's illness. One autumn, Aegon caught a terrible cold. He couldn't sleep at night, and his cough kept the entire western wing of the castle awake. One night, a sleepy Y/N went to his room, silently took the nearby laying ointment, sat on his hips, and began rubbing it on his chest. Aegon, feverish, thought he was hallucinating. But when he woke up the next morning and saw his naked sister asleep in his bed, he knew the events of the previous night hadn't been a fever dream.

Now, too, Aegon had to think twice if the soft body in his arms was really there or just a trick of his drunken mind.

"Are you real?" he whispered, pulling away from her lips and looking at her face.

"You'll have to find out for yourself," Y/N replied just as softly.

Aegon smiled involuntarily and hurriedly disappeared between her thighs.

At dinner, not only Aegon's chair was empty. The chair next to his, Y/N's, was also vacant.

Aemond glanced sideways at his sister, who tried to hide her smile behind her hair. Otto looked at her as well, then at her mother.

"Helaena?" Alicent spoke, looking at the blushing face of her daughter. "Is something wrong?"

"Aegon is feeling much better," she said. The young princess knew this first because the garden she particularly liked was just below her brother's chambers, and the windows, this time, were wide open.

[desireangel]

Dark Cherry [2] | Aemond Targaryen

Part Two

Summary: after months of a marriage that hardly harbours the passion that you'd dreamed about, you stumble across the reason for your husband's indifference and decide enough is enough. Aemond will learn just exactly what he's been missing out on.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader and also some Aemond x some random girly pop ;o

Word Count: (I'm... sorry?) 7.1k

Warnings: smut - mdni 18+!!! UNEDITED!! infidelity, kinda angsty? second-hand smut? power struggle both in bed and out, reader is a cheeky voyeur, oral (f receiving), thigh riding, degradation, Aemond is a fucking asshole but he's sexy, talk of masturbation. as always, let me know if I have missed anything!

Author's note: Entirely unedited because here I am posting this at 2:30AM having just finished writing this bad boy even though I have to be up for work at 7:30. yay :/. Anyways, thank you all so much for the love on this series so far! I'm thinking there could potentially be some more to come. Reader ain't done with her revenge so soon. I will reblog with the taglist tomorrow! or today I guess--after I've had some sleep! I would also love to hear your thoughts!! So pls hmu in my inbox to chat abt things xoxo kisses!!!! <3

Masterlist!

Part One

Distancing yourself from Aemond was not a difficult task. You’d barely see much of him aside from the meals you shared and your occasional stroll through the gardens anyway. It still felt odd, knowing that you were avoiding him when only days ago you had been grasping at whatever crumb of his attention you could reach. 

His existence was ghostly. Always talked about but never seen and it made it remarkably easy to ignore him. You spent most days between your chambers and Helaena’s, idly passing time with embroidery and small talk. But you were distracted - your mind foggy and your usual grace and poise replaced by clumsiness and a constant flustered jumpiness.

It was always on your mind. Always. 

Your mind was a problem of its own and as soon as you lay down amongst your sheets for a night of sleep, it took you back to the memory of your name lewdly falling from Aemond’s lips. As days had passed, you could have convinced yourself it was a hallucination - an odd dream of some sort.  

And while it had become muscle memory for your hand to find your soaked sex at the midnight hour, the scene of your alluring husband in the throes of pleasure bringing you to a quick peak, the first two nights had been marred with silent tears of humiliation, hurt, betrayal–jealousy and anger. 

Maybe it was for the best that you had not seen the face of the whore in his private chambers. If you had any idea of who she was, you would have had half a mind to have sought her out and suffocated her yourself.

You had to remind yourself that if she were, in fact, a whore then you could hardly let yourself seriously consider choking a woman out for simply doing her job. 

Frustration was an understatement. No matter how hard you tried, there was nothing that you could do which would calm the mix of emotions inside you. You considered declaring Aemond’s infidelity at dinner–or even at the small feast that was held two nights ago. But it wouldn’t be enough and it was too early to show your hand. 

If you had come out and made it known to all at Court, nothing would happen. At all. 

Most husbands take on whores and mistresses. And despite the pain and hurt of it that the wives suffer, it’s simply accepted as the way things are. Men are innately animals and so they must fuck like it too. So nobody would bat an eyelid at Aemond. Instead, you knew that they’d turn it on you in one way or another. 

On the sixth day, you were surprised when Ser Tunsley knocked on your door to announce your husband’s presence. When Aemond took a seat at the small table where you usually shared your breakfast, he barely spared you more than an inquisitive look before telling your handmaid to bring your breakfasts promptly. 

Aemond leaned back, letting his legs rest comfortable but still maintained his effortlessly flawless posture. He reached for the book that lay forgotten on the side-table, holding it open with one hand and his other arm stretching over the back of the seat beside him, where you sat all tense and surprised. A barely-there frown crossed your face at the foreign gesture and you willed yourself not to think much of it.

You would have fumbled to snatch the book from his hands, if this had been a week earlier. But it wasn’t, and with a curious and conniving sense of calm, you let him read the first page of a story riddled with obscenity and romance. The first couple chapters were perfectly appropriate.

The prince looked at you with a gentle tilt of his head, unmoving aside from . “You have been withdrawn.”

Silence. You were sitting beside him, unable to meet his eye as you usually would, scoffing so softly at his words that he almost mistook it for a cough. 

Aemond, who was far more observant of you than he knew you believed him to be, found that he was bothered by it. Whether it was because of the loss of the devotion that he had always seen in your doe-eyed gaze, or the flippant shift in your attitude, he did not want to know. 

“Have I done something that has bothered you, dear wife?” His eye returned to the book and moved from one side of the page to the other as he read. 

Aemond clearly did not see you watching them on that night. The fact that you had faced no repercussions for sneaking up on him and eavesdropping on such a moment was enough confirmation of that. 

But Aemond’s presence re-ignited the red hot resentment you had for his actions and the hurt that you felt because of him. How any man could seek out the company of his wife for the first time in a week, sit beside her and pretend so shamelessly as if he cared for the repercussions of his own vile actions was beyond you. 

Nonetheless, you forced a polite smile onto your lips and turned slightly to face him better. You let his question linger in the air between you as the maid returned, placing a plate of cheeses, fruits and an assortment of breads on the table in front of you. 

Thanking her, you reached to pour yourself a cup of the sweet vanilla and rose tea that had become your favourite part of your mornings in the Keep. When you answered his question, it was purposefully less than what Aemond was seeking. 

“I have been ill, lord husband,” you murmured. When you rested against the back of the seat, you tensed at the feeling of Aemond’s arm grazing your shoulder. You had forgotten it was there. 

Your reaction to his proximity and while you had initially been shy around him–not so much since you had started your little performance–, you never flinched away from his touch. 

Aemond placed the book down beside him and hummed in thought. He reached over you, to take a piece of fresh bread for his plate and to put some fruit on your plate, his chest pressing against your shoulder and his hair brushing past your nose. 

If you had moved, just an inch, your lips would be against the milky skin of his throat. Despite your disdain for your husband, you could hear the thrum of your heartbeat in your ears and stopped yourself from dragging your fingers through his hair and tracing your lips across his jaw. 

There was an unfamiliar sense of purpose behind what he was doing. It dawned on you that he knew what he was doing. The bread was already on his plate but the son of a bitch placed the fruits piece by piece on your plate, his movements lazy. 

He smelled like lavender, leather and dragon smoke. Like an intoxicating drug that overwhelmed your mind until piety and sin were indiscernible. It was far too easy for you to see Aemond as more godly than just a mere man, to feel the need to worship him in the most sinful ways you could imagine. 

No man in any realms was as strong, as beautiful, as terrifying, as educated as the prince who breathed fire onto your skin. And he was your prince. 

A drop in your stomach was the least of your problems when the image of Aemond enjoying another woman’s passion invaded your thoughts. You wondered if his scent drove her just as mad as it made you and you had the urge to drive a knife through Aemond’s hand for you knew he’d have let her indulge in him. 

But when he looked at you, his violet eye a mask of indifference yet still failing to hide something that you couldn’t for the life of you put into words, you hated that your desire for him burned just as strong as your rage. 

Aemond’s eye met yours, humming in thought as he brought a cherry to his lips and glancing down at your own. He took a bite out of it first and then brought it to your mouth, dragging the open side across your bottom lip. The soft fruit dripped delicately onto your chin and left a stain on your perfect lips. The sight of you with reddened lips, gazing up at him with blown out pupils, shining with an uncorrupted devotion and a pure desire sent his blood rushing. 

The cherry was sweet and chilled, a stark contrast to the darkened, heated want that Aemond watched you with. And again, you had an urge to ignore everything and take what it was that you had been hoping Aemond would give you. You obediently took the cherry into your mouth, holding his gaze, chewing the flesh of the fruit and rolling the pip on your tongue. 

When you looked hard enough into Aemond’s eye, you could see the reflection of yourself morph into a reflection of the unnamed woman and you turned from him, turning away to drop the pip of the cherry onto a napkin. 

Aemond’s hand fell softly to rest on your knee and he only moved back a nudge. You refused to meet his eye but you could feel his warm breath on your cheek as he spoke, his voice slightly strained yet still calm and smooth. “I’ll send for a maester.” 

“Thank you,” you pushed the words out of your mouth and nodded towards the food. “You should eat your breakfast, my prince.”

Aemond raised an eyebrow as you rolled your eyes at him and slid back into his previous posture, sitting against the backrest of his own seat. An infuriating grin played on his lips. “Don’t worry about my breakfast. Why did you roll your eyes at me?”

You rolled your eyes again. “As if I cannot call for a maester myself.”

It crossed your mind that you could have told him right now of what you had seen. And the urge to scream at him became so strong you almost did. 

But what would come of it? Not enough. Aemond would only offer you an apology if you were lucky and carry on as if nothing was amiss. Because that is just how it is for husbands–they could cheat and lie all they please to no consequence. And you wanted him to regret the moment he chose to disrespect you. 

You wanted him to suffer for it. To feel as insulted, as embarrassed and as inferior as you have.

So he would suffer. But you had to be patient if you were to make it hurt. 

A thought crossed your mind as Aemond said something you didn’t quite hear, with that unbothered expression he had mastered years ago. 

He didn’t linger long after that. You ate your breakfast in silence, while Aemond, much to your distaste, finished the first chapter of your book. And when he finally left, he took it with him, giving you a knowing smirk as he tucked it under his arm. 

One punch. Surely, you would be entitled to that. 

Initially, the idea of seducing Jason Lannister was a gruesome one. But upon hearing of his prolonged and unbusy presence at King’s Landing, you recognised an opportunity as it presented itself to you. Simply because of pride and ego, there were few men who enjoyed the idea of his wife turning to another man for what they could not provide. 

Alas, if there was any part of Aemond that made him weak, it was his pride and his arrogance. 

And so here you were, enjoying your afternoon tea with the Lannister twin, listening to stories of his life at Casterly Rock. You made sure the house staff had known of Lannister’s presence and that the Kingsguard were well aware of the pot of tea you shared in the Courtyard. Easily within sight of where you knew Aemond was training with Ser Cole and some other men you had no interest in knowing.

For the past thirty minutes, you could feel him watching you. But when you lifted your head to look, pretending to the man across from you that you were interested in watching your husband train, Aemond would turn away. Yet he finally seemed to have finally had enough and you could see him walking over from behind Jason, his shoulders stiffer than usual with a sour expression. 

“This tea,” you covered your mouth gently, letting out the remnants of a laugh that had been pulled from you. If you were being honest, Jason Lannister was turning out to be surprisingly fun company and the smile you had expected to fake ended up being real. Not bothering to look at Aemond, who was much closer now, you held your teacup towards the Lord Lannister with a pretty, sultry smile. “It is incredible–I’ve loved it so much, t’is the only tea I will drink. Have a taste of mine, I insist.”

With a look of blatant excitement, Jason leaned into where you held the cup, fingers grazing yours as he held the cup but never took it out of your hold and took a sip. It was slightly awkward, the way his eyes held onto yours, but you brightened your smile nonetheless. 

Aemond visibly inhaled a sharp breath and cleared his throat, covering the both of you in a dark shade. The prince was looming over Lannister, who never looked away from you even as you peeled your eyes away from him with exaggerated difficulty to meet Aemond’s eye. You dropped your smile so slightly that only Aemond could notice. 

There was a tense, awkward silence that lingered. Lannister’s head tilted ever so slightly and a wave of annoyance ran through you at the cocky tilt of his head regardless of the fact that it was exactly what you needed him to do. The two men stared at each other, Aemond’s typical dark repose and Lannister’s challenging chagrin at the disruption. 

“How nice of you to join us, my prince,” you beamed. “Lord Lannister has been sharing this pot of tea with me. It’s lovely to enjoy some company for once.”

You took pleasure in the way he squared his shoulders at your remark. Lannister snickered but was quick to cover it up with a cough at Aemond’s narrowed eye. 

“Yes, I’m sure it is,” Aemond’s voice was sharp. “I happen to have some time on my hands before I take Vhagar to flight, lady wife. Perhaps you would care to join me for a stroll through the gardens?”

Aemond was behind you in a blink, tugging your chair back gently into himself and holding a hand out to help you stand. The air around you became soft lavender and leather and something very Aemond. And despite the slight flutter of your eyelids, you straightened and held strong. 

Weakness would get you nowhere. You were out here for a reason and no matter how strong the pull was, your lust to hurt him back was much stronger. 

You shook your head gently, looking at Jason who seemed to stiffen under the prince’s eye. “What kind of host would I be if I were to abandon Lord Lannister? Considering it was I who invited him to tea. We can enjoy the gardens another time, my prince.”

The fire in Aemond’s eye rivalled Vhagar’s. It gave you a sense of satisfaction that was much unlike yourself and you wondered how he’d burn with rage if you decided to take Jason to your bed. You’d lose everything you had to your name but you knew it would not be difficult to convince yourself that it’d be worth it.

Jason Lannister was no fool. He understood the wrath of the Targaryen prince but he knew that you would never be subjected to the extent of it. As much as Prince Aemond pretended he did not care, the Lords and counsellors of the Red Keep knew that he had his weaknesses. At the end of the day, Aemond would not dishonour himself by tarnishing the image of his pious, kind wife who was loved by all. 

Lannister also had his doubts about you. Again, he was no fool to fall for whatever game you were playing. An honourable, devoted Lady such as yourself would never actually be so easy to adulterate. Whatever it was, Jason was not against indulging himself in some fun here and there. 

But he did prefer to keep his limbs and so he shook his head gently and stood from his seat. 

“You have my thanks,” he took your hand in his and placed a kiss on your knuckles. A bold move from a man who could so strongly feel the Prince’s pointed glare. Jason turned and bowed his head gently towards Aemond. “But I fear I have some business to attend to, so do not stay back on my regard. It was lovely to sit with you, my Lady.”

Aemond scoffed loudly as the Lord took his leave. He waited for you to take his hand to help you out of your seat before dropping it to your waist. 

“My prince-”

“If you are so starved of company, dear wife,” he drawled, looking straight ahead with a tightened jaw as he led you in the direction of the gardens. It was a habit now, whenever Aemond had you on his arm, to walk that route. Not surprising seeing how it was the only place where you two would see each other apart from your chambers. “I would expect you to call upon me rather than some toady Lord who would certainly misjudge your intentions. I am your husband, am I not?”

The thought of keeping a list of the times he spoke as if he were faithful crossed your mind for barely a second. Aemond was infuriating. 

You offered him half of a smile and pulled him back slightly as you came to a stop. “You are. But your mind is never with me and I am well aware your time is far more precious to you than I am.”

If Aemond’s composure was not so ingrained into his existence, he may have spluttered and gawked at you. Instead, he barely frowned. 

There was little he could do about the unemotional, unkind man that he had become perceived as. Aemond understood that it was his own actions that meant people viewed him as little less than a monster. And truly, it was how he tried to be perceived. 

So why did it disturb Aemond that his own wife thought him so uncaring? He knew he had only himself to blame for it. 

“I am afraid a stroll in the gardens will have to wait,” you continued in his silence. Being alone with Aemond was not how you intended to spend the afternoon. The risk that you’d lose your composure and tell him all that you had seen of him was still high. “I am still feeling fairly unwell. It may be better for me to rest in my chambers with a book.”

Aemond knew that you were retracting into yourself, pulling away from him where you would have been at his beck and call only a week ago. He hummed. “Tomorrow then.” 

And with that, Aemond escorted you to your chambers in silence. It was hardly two hours that you had spent in the Courtyard with Lord Lannister but it had been tiring nonetheless. The peace and quiet that came with your reprieve from the man that had set your nerves into a frenzy just at the knowledge of his presence while you pressed at his patience was welcome. 

A few hours passed slowly in your own company. Dinner was brought to your room at your request. The mere thought of sitting beside your husband and putting on a display for his family exhausted you. 

The sounds of footsteps and conversation outside your door pulled your attention from the embroidery you had forced yourself to practise. Your chambers were fairly secluded compared to the rest and so it wasn’t often that anyone wandered this area. Expecting the Queen or your husband to be the source of the noise, you were hastily at the door, a sudden flush of anxiety shooting straight to your gut. 

You waited barely five seconds for Ser Tunsley to knock on your door but your impatience pushed you to step out first. There was nobody there. You could see Ser Tunsley stalking away from the direction of the private chambers. You didn’t question it, assuming he was probably stepping away for a brief break, given that his position hadn’t been replaced. 

Footsteps. Again. 

Curiously turning your head in the direction of the sound, you saw a flash of brunette hair and a dark grey dress. Fuck. 

It was impossible not to recognise her. Even as she walked away from you and clearly in the direction of Prince Aemond’s chambers, you knew who she was. 

So with one final glance back into your room you followed her, thankful that you were barefoot so that your own footsteps couldn’t be heard.  Even though your body was running hot with a mixture of heartache and rage, there was an icy stiffness that had spread from the back of your neck to your shoulders as you rounded a single corner after her and helplessly watched her enter Aemond’s chambers. 

You held back tears. She had left the door open. Again. It did little to ease the knot in your throat when you realised that while she may be good enough for Aemond with her mouth, she was not the smartest.

Unable to move, you stood planted in that one spot a few feet away for what must have been ten minutes before you heard the same shuffling and muffled voices. You could hear her more clearly this time and it took you another two minutes to build the courage to see, once again, how Aemond dishonoured you. 

If the circumstances were different, it may have been one of the sexiest sights you had ever laid your eyes upon. But it struck you in a way you couldn’t have expected and it took all of your willpower to stay standing. 

But what else had you expected?

This time, the woman was sprawled out, her head hanging off of the bed and if her eyes weren’t screwed shut in bliss then she would have been looking directly at you. Her left hand gripped the sheets and the other was tangled amongst Aemond’s silver hair, her thighs on either side of his head. 

Gods, you had never known anything like it. 

Aemond was devouring her like he had been starved of her for weeks (you knew he hadn’t), the obscene sounds of his mouth against her sex striking you with distress. He held her down as she writhed against him, a strong, clothed arm keeping her in place at her waist. 

You had hardly been watching them for thirty seconds and you didn’t even have time to consider turning around and walking away to save yourself the misery. 

Because Aemond’s eye opened and he gazed straight through his lashes, lifting his head so he was looking directly at you. A piercing violet eye accompanied by a glimmering sapphire that watched you dangerously, as if he had seen you standing there the entire time and this was all entertaining to him. 

For what may well have been the tenth time that night, you couldn’t move. You stood at the door, chest heaving and jaw slack as you felt a tightness in your throat. How could you feel so powerless in a game you managed to believe you had the upperhand in? 

Aemond still held your eyes with his own, pulling away from the whore he was toying with, and fucking smirked.  

Like things were going exactly how he had planned. 

Red. And a loud gasp and then panic and a flash of arousal and all of a sudden you were running back to your chambers, falling to your knees over your empty bathtub and dry heaving. It was all too much. 

The shock, the fear, the jealousy, the fear. 

And it dawned on you as you tried desperately to catch your breath. Ignoring your arousal–you cursed your body for reacting faster than your mind once again–panic continued to flood your veins like an ice-cold burn. 

Aemond had definitely seen you watching. But had he known all along? 

It made no sense. Did he see you that night when he moaned your name instead of that damned woman’s? 

You couldn’t even be sure how long Aemond had stared at you from his spot, his attention diverted entirely from the nameless woman, who whined and stirred incessantly at his distraction, to you. Caught like a thief in the act, wide-eyed and dazed.

Aemond knew. And he must have known the entire time. With the way he looked directly to you, as if he were waiting for you. As if Aemond knew exactly where you stood the first night. As if he had finally caught you in his trap.  

He wanted you to see. 

Aemond had already bested you at your own game with even more cleverness than you. Before you had even started to play. 

Sleep did not come easy that night. 

 

You were dressed and ready far earlier than usual the next morning. Even though you dreaded the worst - that Aemond had convened to have you punished for watching as you had, you let your scheme motivate you to take back the control you had lost. If you had ever had it in the first place. 

The dress you wore was hardly decent and it left you bare from your chest up, a wide slit running through the skirts. It was a deep green that had a shine to it and clung to your skin, making it clear that you had foregone your smallclothes for the day. 

For the sake of decency within the hallway, and because you detested the idea of either of the Cloaks at your doors seeing your attire, you donned a heavy cloak over top. It was Aemond’s; he had left it behind after breakfast once.

Aemond was still asleep when you had talked your way past the guard at his door and pushed through the doors to his chambers. You stood at the foot of his bed, tracing the place where that woman lay with your eyes. Quietly, you dropped the cloak to the floor.

It was your first time in Aemond’s private chambers. And would things have been different, you would have taken the time to observe all the things that made this space his. Instead, your eyes scanned every centimetre of every part of his chambers for any trace of that wretched woman. 

There was none. Not a single strand of hair. 

You sat at the edge of his plush bed, taking a moment to get your head straight before you stood and walked around to the side of the bed where he lay. The scent of him was overwhelming as you stood above him. 

“Well,” Aemond barely moved aside from his lips as he spoke. His eye remained shut. “Look who finally figured it out. Why are you here?”

You let out a drawn out sigh, shivering gently. “I would like to talk.”

Aemond sat up lazily and you noticed he was naked save for the sheet that covered his lap. From the way he was sitting, you stood in between his legs and his head was slightly tilted as he looked at you over the swell of your breasts. His hands found a resting place on your hips and you were hyper-aware of his touch, which felt heavier than boulders and hotter than lava. 

He looked at you as if he were ready to devour you. As if Aemond were a man starved of air and you were his only chance at breathing. 

The prince let out a hum. “Dressed like this?”

“Since you seem to prefer a whore over your own wife, I figured I would dress akin to one,” you kept your voice stern and stepped further into him so that his chin almost had to rest in the valley of your breasts if he wished to keep his gaze on yours. “If this is what it will take to have your attention.”

Not once did Aemond’s heated stare falter. “I think you are well aware of where my attention lies. What with your childish attempts at seduction.”

“I did not think you cared to take note.”

“Oh, I noticed,” Aemond said, dragging a finger up and down the side of your waist. He enjoyed the soft feel of the fabric and the way your nipples perked through the dress at his touch had him resisting a primal urge to bite. His patience had been astounding thus far but it was wearing thin. “I would have expected that kind of behaviour from a common whore, not a lady such as yourself. You are a princess, after all.”

Trying your best not to squirm under his touch, you held firm in your hardened gaze. “You seem to enjoy whores.”

“I do not.”

You scoffed. “So you have been fucking her just to spite me? Or have you fallen in love?”

“Such filthy language from such a well behaved girl,” he mused. Aemond’s cursed smirk had you holding back from both cutting him and kissing him. “I never would have guessed that my wife is so full of surprises. It seems I do not know you as well as I believed.”

“Answer my question, Aemond.”

“I never fucked her properly, since you insist–”

“As if it makes a difference whether you fucked her cunt or her mouth,” you spat. He was maddening. “You are my husband. I should be the only woman you have in your bed.”

The grip on your hips tightened almost painfully before he brought one hand up to caress your jaw. Aemond didn’t hide the longing he felt, pulling you closer and admiring every inch of your skin tenderly. “If only you had been good and asked me nicely for what you need. Instead of acting like a desperate slut every time we were in the same space. Things could have been so much easier for you, my love.”

Aemond had always spoken to you with respect. And yet here he was, speaking to you as if he already knew exactly what sent your cunt wild with need. He harshly held your chin, forcing you to look up at the roof as he straightened, pressing his nose into the crevice of your neck. The tickle of his hot breath on your skin made you gasp and you felt the velvet of his lips smirking against your throat. 

“The whole time,” you panted, bringing your hands to his shoulders and digging your nails into his skin. “You knew. It was-”

“Hm. It was for you.” Aemond let his teeth graze against the dip of your jaw. 

There was a fire alight on your skin. You could barely make sense of his words but you forced yourself to hold it together. “You are insane.”

“I was only playing the game that you started,” Aemond chuckled. “Only, I have played it far better than you. Perhaps we are lucky that you did not present more of a challenge, considering I was not above taking her on your bed instead.”

Fuck that. You despised him and loved him and lusted for him all at the same time. 

The control you had was slight to begin with but whatever little there was, it was slipping through your fingers. You threaded your fingers through Aemond’s hair–which was silkier than you had expected–and pulled him away from your neck. 

When you saw the hunger for you in his eye, the slight pink flush of his cheeks, a warm flood of invigorating energy made it’s way through your veins. You fought the urge to run your hands down his shoulders, his chest, his bicep–any part of him you could reach. 

You swallowed thickly. “You should have. I need only one more reason to cut her.”

“I shall have her hanged if that is what you wish.” 

For a moment, you thought you might scratch the smug expression off of Aemond’s face. You groaned, pursing your lips at his indifference and squeezing your thighs together at the passion in his eye. “Fuck you, Aemond.”

“I’m going to give you another chance. Ask me nicely to fuck you until all those doubts you have are replaced by the empty space I will fill your pretty little head with,” He pulled at your hips, so that there was no empty space between you, your torso flush to his chest. Aemond felt deathly tense yet strangely relaxed at the feel of you gasping against him. “And we can put an end to this contest. I do regret that I have left you, my wife, unsatisfied but I want you begging first.”

You watched him closely, challenged him with your gaze. There was no chance you would beg and let him win. The air between you was charged with energy, hissing and stinging. It became heavy and despite the way both of you were breathing so heavily, chests rising and falling dramatically, you couldn’t get enough oxygen to fill your lungs. 

The thickness in the air only became heavier as you gripped his wrists, and moved slowly so that you straddled his right thigh. Aemond fisted the thin fabric of your dress and when you lightly pressed your leg against the hardness at his crotch, you felt his steady breath against your lips which lingered above his own. The skirts of your dress rode up to your hips. 

Lavender, leather and him. 

“You want me to ask you nicely, my prince?” You purred, relishing in the way Aemond’s jaw clenched when he felt your bare cunt press against his thigh. It sends a wave of pleasure straight through your body. “You want me to beg you to tear this dress off of me? To fuck me until I can no longer think of any word other than your name? To make me yours properly? Beg you to fuck me how you should have every night since our wedding?”

Aemond’s hands were grasping at the flesh all over your body, pulling at the fabric of your pathetic excuse of a gown until it ripped. There was a weight on his chest that only grew at the sight of your perfect skin through the torn fabric, your nipples slipping into his view. 

His voice was low and guttural. “The final chance. Be good and beg.”

“If you wish for me to be good,” you whispered into his ear, moving hastily to grip the back of his neck with one hand and the other holding his chin tightly as he had held yours minutes ago. He let out a strained sound through his teeth as you shifted against his cock, pretending to get comfortable.  “You should not have indulged in that whore.”

Aemond scowled at you. And he could have thrown you off of him but his hands continued to scorch the skin on your hips.

You realised you had never been so close to Aemond as you pressed a trail of tender kisses to his jaw. You were infinitely closer to him than all the times you had held onto him while walking the gardes or while he had bedded you with feigned disinterest. And you were aching with want and desire just as he was, your wetness seeping onto Aemond’s thigh. 

It was nothing in comparison to the rage that you had pent up. With a gasp you ground down on the strong muscle of his thigh, eyes fluttering at the sensation. Holding back a moan, you rested your forehead against Aemond’s and rocked your hips against him. 

You tightened your legs, well aware that Aemond could overpower you and have you under him in seconds. He was allowing you to have your moment and you pulled your hand from his jaw only for it to stay tightly locked as his fingers dug into your hips.

There would be bruises left on your skin for weeks but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, almost groaning out loud when Aemond took control of your movements, pushing and pulling your hips so that your clit rubbed against him perfectly. “Prince Aemond Targaryen. You think you can just do as you like and that there would be no consequences. That I would come crawling back to you so easily?”

A moan slipped from your lips when Aemond shifted his leg. You knew you were getting carried away, that the power you had over him was getting to your head but fuck. It didn’t matter. 

You dropped your hand to where Aemond’s cock pressed against one of your thighs, touching him gently over the sheet that covered him. It still surprised you just how perfectly big Aemond was, thick and hard in your palm. And then you held him firmly, rocking your weeping cunt against his thigh even harder when he groaned. It sent shock after shock straight through your core.

“Did you think I would be on my knees for you so easily just like she was?” You spat, whining at the pleasure that was incomparable to the way you had been touching yourself. Aemond hissed as you slid your hand up and then back down so slowly. “After those shows you put on for me, there is not a chance.” 

Countermoves. Aemond was good at them, even when struggling to even out his breath and regain his composure. “Tell me, which part did you enjoy the most? Was it when I fucked my seed into her throat? Or when was calling your name?” 

You gripped the back of his neck so hard, pushing your soaked pussy harder onto his leg. “Do not-”

Aemond hummed, his grip tightening painfully on your hips as he moved his leg in motion against you. He smirked when you shuddered, caressing your cheek with his nose as he spoke lowly into your ear once again. “I think I know. It was last night, when I had her on my tongue and thought only of how perfect your desperate little cunt would taste instead.”

“Aemond,” you couldn’t help but moan as he rolled your hips deliciously on his thigh. He let out a small, deep laugh at the way you trembled in his hands but you could hear that he was losing himself just as much as you were. “Gods.”

“I wish to know, princess. How many times have you touched yourself since that night, wishing you were in her place?”

You sucked in a breath, rutting against Aemond violently and he only pulled you in harder when you refused to answer his questions. Another moan. “Be quiet, Aemond.”

“Hm,” Aemond nipped at your earlobe. “Do you really want me to stop talking? You know that I can feel how wet it makes your perfect cunt. Desperate little slut.”

Whining and cursing him under your breath, you let yourself really look at him. Aemond’s sapphire eye shone under the early morning light that spilled in from the windows, his eye dark with lust and his jaw clenching as he watched you fall apart on his lap. 

Hips buckling as he continued to pull you back and forth on his thigh, spreading your wetness on the soft expanse of his skin, your legs failed to hold your weight and you had clearly resigned to letting Aemond take control of your pleasure. 

You were right at the edge and just as you started to ride out your orgasm, Aemond spoke.

“If you do not beg me,” he threatened. “I shall stop.”

“Gods, no–do not sto-”

Aemond held you still in response and no matter how you writhed against his grip, you couldn’t move. He was keeping you at the tipping point, smirking at the way you were gasping for air and squirming on his lap. But he was in no calmer state himself and you could tell his resolve was about to shatter. 

“Stand up. I want you on the bed,” He demanded. And when you didn’t move, he let go of your hip to lay a stiff smack to your backside. “Now.”

“No.” 

It was almost too easy and you snatched his wrist before he could return it to your hip, moving your hips and rubbing yourself against his leg again now that he only had one hand to try and control you.   

Aemond’s leg was slick and your clit was sliding deliciously across his skin. Fingernails dug into the flesh of your hips and you could feel Aemond’s frustration as he yanked his hand out of yours. But you blindly grasped at it again, shockwaves of white hot pleasure striking you suddenly as you came undone, your forehead falling forward to rest on Aemond’s as you let out a loud, drawn out moan. 

You shook through your orgasm, holding Aemond tightly. His cock throbbed against your thigh and you almost felt bad. 

“You should understand, my prince, if you continue to bring that whore to your bed then I am not above bringing another man to mine.” You struggled to catch your breath and your legs were still trembling as you stood, stepping away to pick up the coat you had dropped to the floor. 

Aemond glowered at you, his glare strong enough to have made you crumble before him were you not so high on adrenaline. 

“You would not dare,” he all but growled. 

“Have I not surprised you enough already, Lord Husband?” 

Aemond stood, the sheet falling to the floor, entirely naked and stiff against his stomach as he watched you don his coat. The anger in his voice only served to spur you on. “You will not leave. You would not dare to leave.”

“I am a princess, after all,” you looked at him over your shoulder, lip caught between your teeth at the sight of him bare, hard and infuriated. There was disbelief written all over his expression. “You will need to work much harder than that if you want me to give in.”

There was something new in the way Aemond looked at you. As if he was impressed. Admiring you, even through his frustration. And without giving yourself the chance for second thoughts, you walked right out Aemond’s chambers with a triumphant smile. 

[sugawhaaa]

HYUNJIN ONE-SHOT

⭐️ •[ Bold Colour ]• ⭐️

Warnings//genre:: SMUT, one-night stand, squirting, fingering

Pairing:: ex-idol!dom!hyunjin x sub!fem!reader

A/N:: this is such a long fanfic but...I hate it. I hate it so much 😭 but I spent too many hours on this to not post it...

Skz masterlist::🎨

🎧::

You had seen this man in the museum at least three times a week and he often had security guards near him, not deliberately surrounding him to avoid drawing attention, but they were always cautious when he's in the building. You do have to admit that he is a very attractive young man, probably a model or something. All the girls you work with swoon over him and can hardly speak around him...

It was very late at night, only a few minutes before closing, when you saw him come in again. You held back a groan and greeted him. "Welcome, how can I help you," you lean over the desk slightly and the man smiles before handing you a card.

He had a V.I.P. pass for the museum aka he can waltz in any time of the day, take a stroll, and leave. That wasn't the only perk of the card but that's what he seemed to use it for. You take the card, enter it in the system and hand it back.

"Thank you," he smiles fondly before making his way. You notice he has a bag on his back and you quickly call out.

"Sir, can I check your bag?" You call out and he freezes.

"Almost forgot!" He smiles before handing you the bag. You only did a brief search because you didn't have any reason to believe he was up to trouble. He's been here over a thousand times. You noticed he had a sketchbook tucked in there which undoubtedly interested you but you didn't pry, only handing him the bag back.

"Thank you, enjoy your time," you nod and he smiles before carrying on. Since the museum closes in a few minutes you decided to do some cleaning around the museum, sweeping, and mandatory upkeep. It was five minutes after closing time and you noticed the man staring at a statue and scribbling down some notes or something in his sketchbook, his pencil between his teeth as he used pen. How strange.

You then went up to him, politely asking him to leave and he nodded.

"Yes, I'll be leaving," he closes his book, tucks the pencil behind his ear, and begins to walk away. You sigh in relief before heading back to the front desk. As you do some more closing you notice the same man in the corner of your eye. It was like 15 minutes past closing! You groan and hurry over to the area you saw him in but he turns the corner sharply, bumping right into you.

His body was sturdy and surprisingly strong and knocked you right over. He quickly reached to catch you, tossing his sketchbook down to grab your wrist. "Sorry about that," he apologizes quickly as he assists you up but your attention is more drawn by the photos on the floor. Some were roses and very artistic charcoal drawings but a few were more...erotic.

"My bad," you say as you help him pick up the drawings but also get a closer look at the sketches. Most were women that seemed to be in a lot of pleasure...it stirred something inside you but you brush it aside.

"No, no, it's my fault," he kneels down to pick up the drawings. "Sorry you have to see all this," he blushes with an innocent smile. "Do you draw?" He asks as he scoops up the drawings.

"Uhm I drabble here and there," you hand him back the drawings as the two of you stand. Hyunjin steps back and looks you up and down. You blush, feeling a little embarrassed by his gaze.

"Modeling?" He tilts his head and you shake yours.

"Nope, just desk worker," you laugh softly and the man laughs.

"Surprising. I'm shocked no one has offered you a job before..." he thinks for a moment. "This may be a little bold of me but," he tucks his hand into the pocket of his dress pants and hands you a business card. "Perhaps you'd be interested in being a muse for me. Just an offer," he shrugs before quickly making a leave.

Hwang hyunjin.

That's his name. How nice, rolls off the tongue nicely. Over the next few days, you consider his offer, but he was right, it was a very bold move on his part.

What he wanted was a nude muse or at least little clothing so you really wanted to be careful but...what's the worst that could happen right?

"Hey, it's the girl from the museum you bumped into last week and you gave me your card," you say into the phone and you heard Hyunjin shifting on the other line.

"Oh, hey," you can hear the smile in his voice. "I'm guessing you've...considered my offer?" His voice is laced with some mysterious intent that you can't read through speech alone.

"Yes. I'll model for you," you smile and Hyunjin cheers softly.

"Great! Are you thinking about going nude or just a little exposed?" He asks purely for data. He doesn't mean to pressure you at all.

"I'm not sure yet,"

"That's perfectly fine, whatever makes you most comfortable darling," he chimes and you blush at the way he calls you darling...the two of you then work out the details of your meeting and before you know it you're at his house, totally gagged. His house was huge and a little modern but still classic and it looked fresh. Must've been built at least 5 years ago. You ring the doorbell and Hyunjin quickly opens the door.

He's wearing a tight-fitted dress shirt, slightly unbuttoned, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and tight dress pants that flare out at the end. His hair is tied back in a ponytail with a pencil tucked behind his ear. "Ah, there she is," he smiles and invites you inside.

He does all the basic things like show you around just a bit and offer you some water and some snacks before getting started. "Okay, so have you decided what you'll be wearing?" He asks softly and you think for a moment.

"Will you...judge me?" You ask abruptly and Hyunjin laughs.

"Judge what? I'm doing this for art, to learn about the female body, I don't mind anything. Body hair, stretch marks, scars, etc let it shine," he smiles sincerely at you and you consider his words.

"Alright then...I won't wear anything," you nod and Hyunjin fights to hide his smile at your words.

"Sounds good," he nods and pretends not to watch you undress by adjusting his canvas and preparing materials. He bites his lip as he watches you unclip your bra and slide it off your shoulders, setting it on the designated stool. His eyes follow carefully as you hook your fingers around your panties and slowly pull them down.

You can't deny that you see the lust in his eyes but he hides it well. "Okay, can you raise your left arm and now tuck your hand behind your head," he instructs you how to pose before smiling. "Perfect," he nods and you stay posing for a while as Hyunjin quickly sketches out the basis of your body. "You have a stunning body," he smiles as he looks between you and his canvas. He licks his lips discreetly, more of a focused wipe than sensual, but it strikes something in you.

"You think?"

"I know," he replies quickly and you blush. "You cold?" He looks up worriedly and you shake your head.

"Nah, it's comfortable in here," you keep your pose and Hyunjin nods.

"Good, you're doing good," he quickly finishes up the sketch before pulling out his watercolor and painting his masterpiece carefully. His consistent praise makes your heart race, and your face flush but you try to hide it.

Before you knew it the painting was finished and he was proud to show you. He flipped the canvas around and you smile.

"Wow it looks incredible! Art is your gift hyunjin," you smile and he blushes.

"Thank you but I only recreate what I see," he glances your body up and down quickly before offering you a robe. "And here's your payment," he reaches into his pocket and starts counting out bills before handing them to you. 70 bucks...not bad.

"Wow that's a lot more than I thought," you blush and Hyunjin shrugs.

"Tip," he smirks before wrapping up his materials but you didn't want to leave just yet...

"Can I see some of your other live paintings?" You sway on your feet and Hyunjin smiles, excited that someone wants to see his work. He pats the bench he's sitting on, inviting you. He pulls out a stack of canvases and papers in a protective sleeve.

There were lots more paintings of women in pleasure but it somewhat confused you. If it was a live painting did the women make that expression the whole time? "How'd you make these ones?" You point to three paintings of the same woman, as the paintings of her go on they get more erotic. It looked almost like snippets from a night of pleasure.

"Well, this was uhm...a girl I knew. We had a weird relationship," he blushes softly. "She liked when I filmed her during our nights together and so I asked her if I could paint some screenshots from the videos," he invitingly shows you the drawings and the story somehow makes the drawings more lewd. You then stumble upon a photo of that girl giving a blow job.

Your heart skips a beat as you take in the sight, your mouth watering and Hyunjin panics, flustered that you found that photo. He quickly takes the stack from your hands. "I uh...that one is not supposed to be in there,"

"Would you...make a painting of me like this?" You tilt your head to him and he quickly turns to meet your eyes. He crosses his arms and arches a brow

"What are you getting at here darling?"

"You know what I'm implying," you smirk and he chuckles lowly.

"Your friends would kill you. They all fawn over me no?" He chuckles and you shrug.

"Beats me," you lean closer and Hyunjin sighs.

"How am I supposed to resist such a hot girl," he sighs and unties his hair. "You sure about this?" He looks up at you and you nod. Before you knew it his lips were melting against yours, your tongues dancing for dominance as his hands roamed over your nude body. You hesitantly raised your hands to his chest as well. He pulls back from the kiss to breathe. "You're so fucking beautiful," he admits before leaning down to kiss your neck.

You toss your head back, allowing him more room as he eagerly nibbles at your neck. He brings his hands down to your ass, gently lifting you onto his lap, his boner painfully present against your crotch. He tears off your robe and sucks a nipple into his mouth.

He wasn't just moving fast, he was moving urgently. He craved you. He was desperate for you. He needed you.

"Ah, Hyunjin," you put your hands to his head as he sucks on your tits, making you moan and shiver in pleasure. You grab his long hair between your fingers and he moans softly as his tongue flicks against your nipple.

"Grind on me baby," he encourages as he supports your back with his hands. Per his instruction, you begin to grind back and forth on his bulge. Broken moans fill the room as his cock twitches against your clit but is unable to enter. He pulls back from your chest but continues to rub the hardened nub with his thumb. "Can I eat you out?" He looks up at you, his breathing heavy either from lack of oxygen or raw desire.

"Yeah," you pant out and he scoops you up into his arms effortlessly. He was very strong for a painter. He kisses you as he takes you into his bedroom before setting you on his bed.

He steps back, standing at the foot of the bed, and begins to unbutton his shirt, putting on a lovely show for you. The way his fingers skillfully slip each button through the little slit, his fingers long and sculpted his torso nice and tapered. He flings his shirt off his shoulders before tossing it somewhere in the room. He crawls up on the bed before grabbing your thighs.

"You're so wet," he breathes out, his breath hitting your folds in a sharp tingle. He runs his middle finger up your folds tenderly making you gasp. "So beautiful," he admires every aspect of your body as his fingers tease around your hole. He then puts his lips around your clit making you jump.

You grab a fistful of his hair as he slowly eats you out, licking up every ounce of arousal your body produces. He brings his finger down to wriggle into your pussy. "Good girl," he grins as he rests his head against your inner thigh, flicking his tongue out to attack your clit. His hair tickled your thigh and his body weight against your thigh added to the sensations. "You're doing so good for me darling," he kisses your clit as you feel his finger begin to thrust deeper and faster. "Have you ever squirted before?" He asks abruptly and you blush.

"N-No...I haven't," you admit shyly, already assuming his bold intent.

"How interesting," Hyunjin squeezes another finger inside you and you squirm slightly from the intrusion. He curls his fingers right against that sweet spot that has your gut tied in knots. You moan softly, growing louder and louder by the minute, and Hyunjin smirks. "That's it, feel the pleasure darling," his encouragement was much appreciated and in a way helped you draw closer to your impending release.

Before you knew it a rush of heat coursed through your body and it honestly startles you. The pleasure was overwhelmingly intense, so warm and tingly.

"H-Hyunjin," you warn him, your breathing heavy.

"Don't worry, let it out," he sucks on your clit and you let out a cry as you feel fluid gushing from your cunt. It spurts out onto Hyunjins face and chest and it takes you a moment to realize what had happened.

"I-Im so sorry I-" you got to sit up but Hyunjin quickly rests you back down.

"Relax darling," he pets your thigh softly. "After such an intense high you should relax," he smiles warmly and you pause before nodding, laying back again. "How did it feel to squirt for the first time?" He asks as he dries himself off with a nearby towel, conveniently placed by his bedside.

"I-oh yeah...um it was..." you think of how to describe it for a moment.

"Overwhelming?" He tilts his head and you laugh softly.

"Yeah, definitely that but also...beautiful," you smile blissfully, basking in the afterglow.

"That's good, I'm glad darling," he kisses your forehead. "Are you feeling tired or do you want to continue? Either way I'm as happy as a clam," he smiles sincerely...

Please reply or drop a comment in my inbox if you'd like part 2 🙏

[restinslices]

okay chat maybe him like getting jealous

Assuming you’re the anon who asked about Spooky

Him this episode >>>>>>>>>>

I've seen posts before about Spooky and people say he'd pull out a gun and start swearing when he's jealous and really show his ass but honestly? I don't think that's accurate 

I haven't watched OMB in a hot minute and Netflix is being some hoes rn so forgive me if I'm wrong but wasn't he incredibly patient?

He was patient with Cesar and with Cesar’s friends. I don't recall him ever losing his temper and going insane besides season 4 when he heard people fucking shit up outside 

Spooky gives me the silent jealous type. Silent but also petty 

Like if you came back to him after talking to a guy he'd say some petty shit like “thought you'd be around him all day”

“That's your man now, right?” “Stop being childish”

You could tell when he's jealous though cause you'd feel him staring at you the whole time 

I could also see him clearing his throat loud as hell if you're nearby to both get your attention and introduce him to whoever it is you're talking to 

It's gotta be a guy he doesn't know cause realistically what Santo is dumb enough to flirt with you?

I feel like I'm expected to say he'd have this huge outburst but Oscar doesn't give me that vibe. He's pretty patient and I think especially if y'all have been together for an extended amount of time, he'd feel secure enough to know you won't do some foul shit 

I feel like someone touching you would cause him to immediately get involved. He'd walk over and physically take their hand off of you while pulling you closer to him or behind him 

And let's be real, no one is dumb enough to try shit with him. He's 6’1 and known as the leader of the Santos 

But if someone did try him because they're drunk or whatever, I feel that even though he's jealous he'd still put your safety first. His jealousy would go to the back of his mind and he'd try to get you out in case shit gets intense 

Another situation he'd step in is if you're visibly uncomfortable. Typically if someone's flirting with you, he knows you can handle it but if you're so obviously uncomfortable then he'd step in and get you away 

I feel like if you're dating Oscar your safety would go over everything so while he's still a man and wants to play all big and bad in whoever's face, getting you away is his biggest priority 

“Are you jealous?” “Should I be?” “No” then he'd nod or smth 

Now let's say you're hanging around a new guy a lot. Would he get jealous? Probably. He's a guy. 

This is a different situation ‘cause he's not seeing anything. He can't pull you away. What does he do?

Short answer; nothing. Long answer; he doesn't seem like the type to be so jealous he'd snoop on your phone or follow you because relationships require trust and if you caught him, you'd be upset. I could see him asking questions about the guy and then denying he's jealous ‘cause “I have nothing to be jealous about”

And it's like??? Are you telling me  that or telling yourself that? 

Over time it'd become obvious he's feeling a certain way. You'd say you're gonna hang out with whoever the guy is and he'd just make a “mmm” sound instead of actually responding 

“Something wrong?” “I didn't say anything” “Exactly”. Eventually it'd come out though 

And the idea of him flirting with someone else to make you jealous comes up but I don't think that'd happen. He hardly has any relationships besides his gang which means he hardly has any close relationships. He has the kids, who he's like an older brother too (or literally an older brother to) and Mario (and we don't know how much they interact) so I don't see him risking a relationship just to be on petty shit 

He'd say smth petty but flirting with someone else just as payback for some shit you can't control? Nah

You could probably calm him down easily just by being near him. Making jokes about him being jealous would help also because it's you acknowledging that you see how he feels without having a sappy ass conversation 

I feel like this is so anticlimactic and disappointing but realistically I don't see him flipping his shit. He's 19-25, which could make him a bit immature but 1) he's grown up quickly so I think he can handle his emotions. 2) He has two strikes already. He's not popping his shit and risking life in prison because he was jealous. And 3) he knows you know where home is. 

He gets jealous, sure, but all those reasons stacked together makes him act calm, only getting somewhat aggressive if someone is touching you or making you uncomfortable. He’s more petty than anything

Quick story time. So I got away from my abusive dad when I was 13-14, right. I was also obsessed with Spooky. Tell me why my therapist said “I think you love him so much because he’s a strong and scary guy and in your head he’d protect you if your dad came back for you”. The way I almost blocked her-

I’m still seeing her years later😃

[vibelladonna]

𝓊𝓅𝒹𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓈… 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃 ! ! 𝒻𝓇𝑜𝓂 𝓋𝒾𝓋

To start off, sorry I haven’t posted any fanfics lately.

Well, other than “Rizz the Wolf” April Fool reaction—look man I was really hyped and I couldn't help myself, I'd like to mention that I’ve got two exams this week and one more after that, so things have been kinda hectic for me as my spring semester is ending soon.

I’ll try to post something this weekend or later.  

Now, about the update on Geo… y’all really blew up my inbox. I was sitting in a chemistry lecture, taking notes on my iPad, when like 30 people inboxed me, saying overall ‘CHECK TWITTER!’ I was so confused, just staring a my screen like, "wtf is going on???" 😭 I legit thought something bad happened, so I checked Twitter all dramatically like I was about to read a scandal.  

First off, I just love seeing updates from @fantasia-kitt. And since y’all were MAYBE waiting for my "official statement"—because apparently, I’m the top writer that actually enjoys writing about Geo (which, fair, I do take almost every request I get)—here it is:  

I admire it ♡. Like deadass, omg.

Seeing Geo as Aroace just makes so much sense, like I already knew funny enough. It fits him perfectly—both personality-wise and character-wise. If there was ever a character who would straight-up say, "I literally do not have the time nor interest in a relationship,"

It’s literally him.

That being said… yeah, I guess this means almost everything I’ve written about Geo so far isn’t exactly accurate. Especially when it comes to writings like [ 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓈 ] or [ 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝒷𝒶𝓇𝒾 ]—to tell ya'll the truth, I was kinda hated writing those. 

I still lowkey head cannon him into Japanese bondage, Shibari—in a non sexual manner, like he just wanted to learn because he just happens to be interested in it.

Yes, I did a lot of research for them, but to keep it real, I only wrote them for my dearest readers because, at the time, there was barely any NSFW content for Geo, and everyone kept asking for it.

However, at the back of my brain, I already knew it didn’t fit his character, which was my original plan to never write it in the first place. If I’m being honest, I do feel a tiny bit disappointed—not at Geo being Aroace now.

Like, I’m actually hyped about that.

Sidenote—Do you know how rare perfectly written Aroace, aro, or even just ace representation is? 

HARDLY ANYWHERE.

It’s a constant battle trying to explain to people that this is who I am, and half the time, they just don’t get it because no one really talks about it.

So seeing a character like Geo, who actually fits the identity so well, is a huge win. It’s more about the fact that I knew I understood his character so well, but I kept holding myself back and writing him wrong—just to please everyone.

That’s on me, and I’ll never do it again.

So, this short update hits close to home.

Like Fantasia mentioned, "Geo has a special place in my heart since he reflects my own sexuality as well being an Aroace and I thinks this fits him more personality and character-wise." End quote.

And truthfully, same.

As mentioned, I’m asexual—like, if you’ve been on my blog for even five seconds, you’ve probably seen the spade symbols everywhere or my about me pinned post. It’s my way of repping my sexuality—hell, I even wear it as jewelry daily.

Also, a thought: I might be aro too, but I haven’t done a deep dive into that yet. Relationships have never really been my thing, and my priorities have always been my academics and career, so… maybe? Who knows.

Like, I’ll probably sit with it over the summer when I finally have some free time to contemplate my existence properly.

For those who don’t know me personally… let’s see…

if I had to sum up my personality, just picture Dr. Cristina Yang from Grey’s Anatomy or Kyoko Kirigiri from Danganronpa (btw, Kyoko is the only character in that game I care about). That should give you a pretty solid idea of how I operate.

That being said, I’m definitely still writing about Geo.

Don’t get it twisted—I was never gonna stop. I’ll just be going off my own thoughts now, and hopefully, everyone’s cool with that.

But please, for the love of all that is holy, do not ask me to write that Sol and Geo threesome. I was deadass joking in [ 𝒿𝑒𝓁𝓁𝓎 ]. Same with Hyugo and Geo x Reader request in a relationship—logically, it just doesn’t click for me to write something like that.

I enjoy writing about Geo—he’s one of my comfort characters (which, mind you, I only have like four on that list). And honestly?

Still my ideal type. I relate to him a lot. Not saying I’d date myself, but when I write him, I often think, "How would I react?"—except I dial up the arrogance, smugness, and overall asshole energy.

And before you ask, "Why the hell would you even want to date someone like that?"—leave me alone. 😭 

Again, dating isn’t exactly high on my priority list.

I just think about it sometimes—mostly because my parents won’t get off my ass about it. They keep saying, “Don’t waste your life just focusing on work,” but like… I genuinely don’t have any desire for it. I just want to enjoy life, make a decent living, and maybe—if anything—consider marriage way down the line.

But if I HAD to pick, it’ll be Geo.

Like in a best friends kind of way. Personally he’ll be so understanding because he too feel this way. I’ll annoy him so much.

The reason why, to me, relationships are just really close friendships with extra steps. If you’re dating someone, shouldn’t they also be your best friend? Deadass my friends call me weird for thinking that way, however I like to see it that way. 

This is why the only piece I actually enjoyed writing was [ 𝓉𝓎𝓅𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒷𝑜𝓎𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹 ]—ironic isn’t it? I just thought of Geo and me as best friends and converted that into something for whoever was reading.

I always saw it as experiencing romantic and sexual attraction differently than most people. Relationships aren’t one-size-fits-all—they take on different forms depending on the people involved.

With Geo, I was just being transparent about who he is, what his needs and boundaries are, and how that shapes his dynamics with others.

Same goes for real life—your needs, your expectations, their needs, their expectations… It all comes down to communication. 

That’s everything.

And like Geo isn’t heartless now. If you play “Rizz the Wolf”, it just proves how much Geo actually cares about his friends. Like dude, look at how he treats Crowe and Deryl. Sure, he was pissed at Deryl for touching him and just straight-up being goofy, but he still let him do it.

And Crowe? Crowe did so much for Geo. It’s literally in the game’s glossary that Crowe helped him after he got kicked out of high-class society. No wonder Geo wipes Crowe’s face with a napkin. 

Not gonna lie, kinda wish that was me.😗

What I’m getting at is—this all just clicks.

So yeah, Geo not doing romantic relationships?

Officially canon. He doesn’t see the point, doesn’t have the time, and honestly? This just gives me even more material to work with—so stay tuned for the next post ! !

I’ll catch y’all later—thanks for listening to my rambling, my dearest readers. ♤

[polar534]

Was anyone going to tell me that Rook and Neve mirror each other's phrases depending on who you choose to dismantle the ward? Or was I just supposed to find that out myself after my 2nd full playthrough?!

First of all, I'm ill. Thank you writers. You deserve so much better than you get. To make up for that, I'm going to gush about the writing and more importantly the performance of the actors I got to experience said writing through. I think this post I want to specifically focus on Rook, since so many people have taken apart the Category 5 event that is Neve's full romance plot. But trust me, at the end of this analysis I plan on touching on something I haven't yet seen from the Neve romance takes. And if it is out there, it's not getting nearly the attention it deserves.

I think it's absolutely fascinating the character development that happens for Rook specifically if you choose Neve and subsequently she gets blighted. Despite all the personality choices you can make in regards to the romantic scenes. (Shout out to the Stoic option breaking my heart every time during the Eclipse scene.) One thing Rook is for Neve, always, is there. Rook makes sure to let Neve know, out loud and through their actions, that they are there. They'll always try to be there, even when they might not be fast enough, when the tables turn or when gods break promises. Now I'm not sure about the other VA's performance because I've just been running through this romance as one character, but Bryony Corrigan does an absolutely phenomenal job of breaking my heart in the aftermath of Tearstone Island. Through her performance you can really begin to see the flipside of this coin. The other reflection in the mirror.

If any companion speaks to you about Neve, Bryony does a fantastic job of letting the emotion come through her small lines just enough that it sounds like Rook is really on the edge of tears. Ask Rook about their plans, or what they have to do next? Fine. Can handle that. She will get the job done. But ask her about Neve? Reassure her that they'll find her? Suddenly Rook is the smallest person in the world. Her voice cracks, she's hardly even able to thank Davrin or Bellara for their support because she is actively choking back what sounds like tears.

Don't even get me started on the animation rigging for Rook when you DO find Neve and she reveals just what happened while Rook wasn't there.

Look at that devastation! I can tell they turned up the rigging specifically to make sure that no matter what your Rook looks like, you will KNOW just how broken they must feel in that moment. (Regret Prison could never.) Rook wasn't there and Neve had someone in her head. Someone who used her to break her own city.

(Important note that this animation will NOT play for just a normal companion rescue. Rook is only going to be this devastated when it's someone they love. In a normal run you'll get more of relieved and happy grin rather than whatever pathetic, wet beast looking thing this is.)

Moving forward, the very next time you can choose the 'Romantic' option, Rook will reflect in some way that they 'lost' Neve. That is not something you can change. You, as a player, CANNOT change the fact that a romantically involved Rook will see the time spent apart as an overwhelming loss. They lost Neve. Once you do click the 'Romantic' option however, the dialogue will change to some variation of 'found'. Which reflects exactly what Rook has dedicated themselves to proving to Neve. That they will be there. That they will always try.

That spoken dialogue doesn't stop the choices from showing what Rook is really feeling however. In their mind, they lost her. Neve is desperate to remind Rook that they can't even consider her being there as a win. Not while they still have so much left to do. And yet? It doesn't stop Rook from believing it anyways. That is the win in their eyes, no matter what comes next.

The only thing that can come close to getting that final win now is killing Elgar'nan, and I'm feral for the fact that Rook's view of killing the last blighted god can, canonically, become revenge for what he did to Neve. (On top of saving the world of course)

You'll get further 'lost and found' references in the dialogue after. Again, I feel like it's really important to see that it is Rook saying all of this. It has nothing to do with your choices beforehand. If you choose the romantic option, this is what Rook is truly feeling. It becomes canon to whatever kind of Rook you're playing. They wouldn't know what to do if they hadn't found Neve.

(Bryony Corrigan you have me on the floor with this entire sequence. From the line above to: "Every moment." To "I'm right here. I promise." It knocks me to the floor. Every time. Insanely heart-wrenching delivery.)

Lastly in the post credit scene of the Blighted Neve storyline, 2 of your 3 options can include one final instance of the 'lost and found' wording that is so prevalently a theme for Rook in this version of events.

(Fun fact, the non-blighted version of the same scene will of course, also throw a nod to the theme of 'lost and found'. "Finding you was a lost cause.", As well as an option to tap into Rook's own feelings in regards to that theme: "That place, I was so lost...")

So why is this so interesting to me? Why does the mirrored dialogue from the very moment that scene starts mean so much to me? It's pretty simple.

In Neve's experience, lost things don't just come back. I think it's absolutely fascinating that her storyline, romance or not, has a nebulous theme around the idea that lost things don't just come back. In Neve's experience, once something goes missing, it's gone. The city will move on without a spare thought. That's why she tries to be the difference. To be the one that finds things. If you're hunting for people who are taken she will always make sure to slip in a line about the fact that even if you're too late, she intends to find them anyways. She will provide closure, a follow-up to whoever might need it. It's about the small temporary wins. It's the cynic with a heart of gold that's so deeply imbedded in her character.

You're supposed to play as the one that helps slowly change that idea. Rook is meant to be the exception to the rule Neve has held tight in an attempt at survival for so long. (Along with all of the other companions of course.) Rook is the 'found' part of lost and found. They're going to find a way through any situation. Whatever it takes.

So yeah, when Neve comes in to Rook's room during the non-blighted storyline, of course she's completely shaken by the fact that Rook is actually there. That they came back. That they found a way to come back. 

But on the flipside, what you can discover through the writing and through the incredible work by the VA, is the fact that without Neve? Rook can also become lost. The fact that the other came back at all means the world to them BOTH. The fact that they will mirror each other's thoughts, the very idea of coming back at all being a parallel to being lost and found, it's a payoff to something that gets set up at the very start of the game.

When they needed to find someone, Varric went to the best damn detective he had ever met. Neve Gallus, the local expert, the one person in Minrathous that people turn to when things or people go missing. In the same breath he'll introduce Rook as their expert on trouble. The very same kind of trouble that Neve knows to avoid and yet always finds her anyways.

Because lost things are always meant to be found. And Trouble isn't always a bad thing.

[writingsbychlo]

LONG-DISTANCE LOVER | REGULUS BLACK

SUMMARY: regulus thinks his long-distance girlfriend might've forgotten him on valentine's day, but he couldn't have been more wrong. WORD COUNT: 2510 NOTES: valentine's day post number three! I hope you guys are enjoying these, I promise the other's aren't as angsty as these first three have been!

Drunk and miserable, Regulus kicked shut the door of his small London flat. He smelled like his childhood home, he felt like the darkness of it was still crawling over his skin from dropping off his brother to bed. He shucked off his coat as fast as he could, as though shedding the layers would scrape away the sickly feeling. 

It wasn’t often that he let himself get this drunk, or intoxicated at all, actually, but it had felt necessary. As the day had chugged on, his mood had grown more sour, until it was so bitter his face was scrunching up at the darkness brewing in his soul. 

Luckily, he’d found a kindred spirit in his brother. Not much did they have in common, anymore. Not since they were kids, in their matching shorts and suspenders, hiding behind the greenhouse to play with the frogs and escape their tutor had they had so much in common. But today, they did. 

Regulus had waited all day for word, for a card or an owl or anything from you, something to prove it wasn’t as dire as he thought, something to prove you hadn't forgotten the first Valentine’s Day spent apart. But nothing had come. Almost a year ago, your parents had decided to send you to a prestigious Wizarding university in the South of France, dropping the news on you just before graduation and shattering your shared ideas of a future. Your summer of plans had become a frantic, condensed two weeks of pretending like your separation wasn’t looming before you’d slipped through his fingers.  

Then you’d been gone, and he’d hardly seen you since, a few stolen days and a couple of secret visits over Christmas, but that had been it. You’d tried to give him an out, but he didn’t want it, he’d refused it point-blank and told you your relationship was strong enough to survive this distance. Now, alone on Valentine’s Day in the cold and dark of his flat, he couldn't help but wonder if you’d wanted the out for yourself. 

He hated to think that about you, but if you weren’t thinking of him, who were you thinking of?

At least Sirius had understood. Sirius, too, had been alone on this day. Unable to spend it with his boyfriend Remus, due to a number of reasons, he’d been just as miserable and moody as Regulus was. They’d gone bar to bar in London, and when they’d become too drunk to be conceivably inconspicuous in Wizarding London, they’d made their way to Muggle bars too.

Sirius had tapped out first, much to drunk Regulus’ thrill, throwing up in an alley somewhere in Soho, and he’d taken Sirius home and put him into the trustworthy hands of Kreacher. Sure, it was Sirius’ home now, and he’d stripped it away of everything that their family home as children had once been, but Regulus felt like the darkness was in its very foundations, he didn’t know how his brother could stand to live there. 

He’d been too drunk to apparate, and far too drunk to find a Floo safely, and so he���d taken the laborious Muggle way. Stumbling his way to the nearest Underground station, and patting down his pockets for the little plastic card with his Muggle funds on, until he could clear the security gates. 

With his head rested on the dirty windows and eyes closed, he’d let the rhythmic chugging of the Tube soothe the spinning of his mind, focusing on his breathing until he felt less like throwing up. The cold and rain of a British mid-February night had sobered him up considerably, until only a dull buzz was left in his veins, and a headache was threatening to start any moment behind his eyes. 

He stared at the coat on the floor, entirely having missed the coat rack he’d tried to hang it on, but he couldn't even be bothered to pick it up. He kicked off his shoes too, stumbling to the couch in the cold living room, but detouring the trolley holding enough bottles to put down a Hippogriff, to grab one. What better way to save himself a miserable hangover tomorrow morning, than to just get drunk all over again?

Sinking into the couch, he stared at the empty fireplace in front of himself, trying to will it into lighting, but he was too far gone to muster even a flicker of wandless magic, never mind a whole fireplace. 

Where was his wand, anyway?

A question for another time. Now, more whiskey. 

Popping the cork of the bottle, he let it roll to the carpet, staring into the dark fireplace again as he brought the rim to his lips and took a heavy swig. He was just going in for his second gulp when the fireplace roared to life. 

Hot, green flames licked through the room, sparking brought light that burned his eyes for a moment, before retreating just as fast into ash and smoke and leaving behind the blurry figure of someone standing in the dark. He rubbed at his eyes with a fist, a little too hard, leaving his eyes throbbing as he tried to clear them. 

“Reggie?”

Oh. He knew that voice. Snapping his head up, he listened to the soft click of heels across the floor, until a warm hand was brushing wet strands of hair out of his face. The room illuminated a second later, with real fire this time, warm and comforting, and the hazy glow of it lit the room enough for him to pull your features from the dark. 

“Mon amour,” He slurred, words blurring at the edges no matter how hard he tried to speak them clearly, “And here I thought you forgot about little old me.”

“Regulus.” You sounded disappointed, he hated that tone of your voice. So, he lifted the bottle to take another drink. The bottle never made it to his lips, he felt you slip it from his hand and heard it clink back into place on the trolley before your hands were back on his face. 

He liked that. 

“You’re freezing to the touch, Reg. And wet. Why are you sitting here like this in the dark, you’re going to get sick?”

“I was feeling—” He cut himself off with an ungentlemanly burp, chuckling to himself about how appalled his mother would have been to hear it, “Poetic.”

“Poetic, or stupid?”

He frowned at that, his mouth tightening it to a scowl, “Hey. You can’t call me stupid right now, this is your fault!”

“My fault?” Your lips twitched in amusement as you offered him your hands, and though Regulus was sure that somewhere inside he should’ve been embarrassed by this state, he couldn't find it within himself to care. This all felt a little too surreal as it was, perhaps it was just an alcohol-induced vision, and he’d come around from it soon. Might as well make the most of it. “How, pray tell, does that work out?”

You tugged him to his feet, and Regulus felt his stomach turn uncomfortably as he found his footing. You led him through his flat like you knew the way by heart, a painfully endearing action that he would tuck away to rehash in the morning when he was sober enough to hurt again. 

You placed him down on his bed, and he sat on the edge of it, watching you open and close the drawers to his dressers, searching for something. Fresh clothes, he reckoned. So long passed by in silence as you found him a change of clothes that it seemed you’d forgotten the question you’d asked, but it was still bouncing around in his whiskey-addled brain, echoing in his ears. It was only as you were pressing a kiss to the damn waves atop his head that he managed to find his voice enough to answer;

“You forgot about me.”

You reared back, re-entering his line of vision, and he choked down the swelling ball of emotions that followed the words escaping. It was little use, not as hot tears stung at his eyes, and he sniffled with his next inhale. “Reggie, what?”

His lip wobbled, and you crouched before him, cupping his cheeks so tenderly that it shattered his heart all over again. Your thumbs wiped across his cheeks, clearing away tears that were falling heavily, and he took a ragged deep breath. “You forgot about me. It’s Valentine’s Day, and you didn’t even send me a note. You have owls, patronus, and even the Floo! And nothing. We promised each other it wouldn't change things, but you forgot about me! You forgot about the person you’re supposed to love, on the day of love!”

Sobs were breaking free, and then your arms snaked around him, holding him close. Even though you were the cause of his pain, he was a weak enough man to concede that you were also the cure. He pressed his face into your neck as you played with his hair, and he cried. 

He cried for the raging, turbulent emotions of the day. 

He cried for every night he went to sleep alone, in a half-furnished home, because you were supposed to be here with him. 

He cried for the relationship staggered to a halt that seemed like it would never get back on track. 

He cried for his long-distance lover, who was supposed to be by his side, whom he missed every second of every day like a missing limb. 

He cried for every part of his pain that he normally suppressed, every emotional thought he’d never given voice to. 

“I’m so mad at you for leaving, do you know that?” He croaked, when the tears finally stopped and all that was left was his raw voice and the painful truth, “I know it’s just for a few years, but it’s killing me, mon amour. I wasn’t made to be apart from you, I was made to be by your side.”

You sniffled too, and it was then that he realised your pretty makeup was smeared, your cheeks were splotchy with colour like he imagined his own would be, and your eyes were rimmed with red. Raising a trembling hand, he brushed a lingering tear track from its shiny river along your cheek. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it when I blamed you.”

“I hate it too, Reggie.” You finally said, settling onto the floor in front of him, kneeling on the carpet and taking his hands in your own. You kissed his knuckles, each one slowly, and he felt a weight slip free from his chest. “I miss you every day. I think of you every moment. It doesn’t matter how long passes, I still look for you by my side every time I hear a funny joke or have a thought, and I still catch myself saying goodnight to you when I’m alone in bed each evening. I reach for you every morning before my mind catches up with my body. I miss you too, please know that.”

Your words simultaneously healed something within him while shattering something else, they settled a weight in his stomach but freed one from his shoulders. You were both struggling, but it helped to know his misery had company. 

“I didn’t forget about you today, Reg. I planned to come to you earlier this morning but couldn't. I’ve been working on this surprise since Christmas, since the last time we had to say goodbye and I almost couldn't leave again.” His gaze snapped up to find yours, lips parting to release a breath, and his heart skipped a beat at the smile that crawled over your face. “The Floo I had booked travel collapsed during the night, the whole chimney fell in on itself and it took hours to clear. And by the time it was done, you clearly weren’t home. You know the Floo doesn’t open if you’re not home, Reg. I’ve been sitting in the pub waiting hours, trying every thirty minutes!”

His jaw dropped, the cogs turning in his mind, even if they were operating at a lower functioning pace than usual, and his cheeks bloomed with heat. “You didn’t forget about me.” He whispered, more in confirmation to himself than anything, as he lifted a hand to tuck hair out of your face, and you smiled sadly at him with a sigh. 

“Forget about you, Regulus Black? How could I ever do that? Your soul calls out to mine, you are tattooed onto my very heart. I don’t know who I’d be without you.”

“Now who’s being poetic?” He whispered, sliding a cold hand onto your neck, and pulling you in. Finally, your lips met his, and everything in his world felt like it shifted back into place. When you kissed him back, a resounding click seemed to echo through his body, as it all locked back into place. 

You stood, he no longer had to look down at you, but up at you instead, as he kept up with your kisses, even as you moved. Your hands went to the hem of his damp sweater, tugging it up in a bundle with his shirt and dropping the pile unceremoniously to the ground. Your hands were hot against his skin, and he groaned at the loss of your mouth on his once again, as you directed him into a new, dry hoodie. 

Between kisses and reassuring touches, you had somehow managed to coerce him into dry clothes, tipping a hangover potion to his lips, before he even knew it. Because the next time Regulus found himself possessing clear thought and legible inner dialogue, was hours later. 

His lips were kiss-bitten and swollen, and his heart was steadily pumping in a way that reminded him of how happy he was to be alive. He was warm, uncomfortably so, wrapped up in layers of clothing and bedding, with your body smothered atop him, but he wouldn't move. No, he would stay where he was, he’d die of heatstroke if he had to, just for the chance to hold you a little longer. 

It would hurt him, cut him deep when he had to say goodbye to you once again after the weekend was over, but it didn’t seem so bad now. His heart wouldn't be the only one bleeding, he wouldn’t be the only one struggling. Soon, you’d be gone again, but it wouldn't be forever, and you wouldn't forget him.

It just meant delaying those plans for the future a little longer, but he could cope, he thought. 

Maybe not all of the plans had to wait, after all. He could have a home and a life waiting and ready for you when you graduate. He could get the ball rolling, and when you were ready, he’d be right here waiting for you. 

How happy he could make you, he thought, if you both just waited a little longer. You were worth the wait, that much he knew. 

[meyhew]

“WHAT WE MOURN FOR THE DEAD IS THE LOSS OF THEIR HOPES.”

I never thought I’d make this post. Any time I imagined a One Direction member dying, I pictured myself weathered and grey. This was an eventuality that wasn’t supposed to be actualized until the boys and I had lived full lives. To have to come to terms with Liam’s death—his perpetual absence moving forward—in my mid twenties feels absurd. I wrote a long thing the day after I found out, so I’ve already gotten some thoughts out. I’m going to try and keep this short. I likely won’t succeed.

Liam was kind. If he’s remembered for anything, I hope it’s that. I know he helped out with food banks in London during lockdown because there were photos of him packing boxes, but I didn’t know until now how much money he gave them. £80,000 without any publicity. And it wasn’t a one-time donation. He kept working with various orgs to help food insecure people. In the week leading up to that unfortunate Wednesday, he gave away thousands to fundraisers—primarily set up to help people with severe illnesses. He’d been part of Soccer Aid for years. He was involved with anti-bullying campaigns. He worked with Rays of Sunshine to make hundreds of sick children happy. Over the years, he also donated to nonprofits that help children in Gaza and other places. The T-shirt he designed for Choose Love has garnered nearly £200,000; Choose Love has been working with the Palestine Children’s Relief Fund and Medical Aid for Palestinians to provide desperately needed aid in Gaza. Liam understood the value of his wealth, and what his social responsibility was. He did his part to make this world better.

All that without taking into account everything Liam did for us. The youtube videos he started during quarantine because it was a way to distract people, give them something to look forward to. His comedic timing was something special. The discord server where he talked to fans and highlighted their creative endeavors. His livestreams, the endless culture-defining tweets he made. I still see people laughing about his tweets. We all remember Mrs. Horan, yes? I mean, go all the way back to TwitCams. Just google the phrase and one of the first videos you get will be Liam’s. From day one, he took it upon himself to make sure the fans were happy. That we felt seen, heard. And he kept One Direction alive for us, on occasion at a great personal cost. He performed deep cuts we’d never seen sung live, he was always so enthusiastic about everyone else’s projects, he never shied away from talking about the band—because it made us happy. He knew what the band meant to us, the blend of hope and nostalgia many of us clung to, and he held on with us. For us. The masses ridiculed him for his clinginess, and he didn’t let go—for us. I’m sure he knew there are those of us for whom the name One Direction still means everything. And how right he was. Look at the global charts for the past two weeks. We’ve made history again. Because of Liam. He had been the glue holding a lot of the fandom together, whether people realized it or not. He brought us all together again in the most heartbreaking of ways.

One Direction came into my life at a time when I was becoming lonelier by the day. I had moved to a new country two years prior, and I didn’t yet have many friends because I knew only enough English to get by at school. Outside of school, I had no friends. They were all back home in the place I’d left. All I had was my two siblings—and when you’re 13 years old, your 14 yr old sister is hardly the person you want to spend all your time with. I didn’t have space for me, to do and to be something that was just mine.

Then I found 1d through a girl at school and they became that something for me. I bettered my English by watching them talk. I found this community because of them, and I have learned so much from being a part of it. So many wonderful people have touched my life because of them over the years, some I’ve fallen out of touch with and some I hung out with just this month. They—and, by extension, Liam—have made me wealthy in friendship.

Claudia, Ingrid, Mery; Thank you for putting up with my insanely specific demands and making headers for me. Ingrid, you’ve been so patient about teaching me how to gif. Mery, I still have your rec list for learning Spanish saved in my notes app. The TPWK print you gifted me hangs on my wall. Cloudy, do you remember that lineart you made of me? I still have it. You’ve all been so kind to me.

Rafa; You have no idea how much you’ve helped build my confidence as a writer. Lyab is a thing of the past now, but those hours you spent fleshing out the details of that fic are priceless to me. I’d never written anything so ambitious before. And, frankly, I don’t think I would’ve attempted a novel if I hadn’t written a 100k fic—which I couldn’t have done without your encouragement. I think this is my first time telling you I finished the first draft of my novel in September. Thank you <3

Yas; Beloved you are so dear to me. You have shown me such kindness over the years, at times I wondered what I had done to deserve it. Not many people check in with me the way you do. I value your presence in my life beyond words. You have so much love and affection to give, and I’m glad I get to receive so much of it.

If I wrote a personal note to everyone who’s in my life because of Liam we’d be here for hours and hours. Jess, Bella, Alex, Jack, Hayley, Hope, Soni, Kayla, Sara, Arsh, Tina, Ola, Cristal, Kylee, Hana, Ali, Antonise, Clare, Abby, Nina, fnh, mert, people I don’t follow anymore, everyone who’s come into my life because of liam—I love you. Literally every single person I follow should be named here because I wouldn’t even be on this website if it weren’t for 1d. You’re all so special to me.

I still can’t believe Liam is gone. I was at the grocery store and it hit me that it’s real, and I thought, no, there’s no way. It feels so fucking weird having this invisible hole in my life that’s never going to go away. But I’ll always be grateful for everything Liam brought into my life. I know I’ll grow old with a whole bunch of you in my life—I’ve already spent a decade with some of you in my life—and I wish Liam got to grow old and weathered with us all.

This is such an inadequate goodbye. I think I’ll keep coming up with things I wish I could tell Liam, or things I want to say to you all. There’s so much history here, so much to reminisce about. He took a piece of my adolescence with him. I’ll miss him forever. Too many of my memories are intertwined with him and I’ll miss him forever.

Sleep easy, Liam. I hope, in time, you’re remembered for your limitless capacity for love and your desire to do better, be better. You deserved more. 🤍

—————

tagging 1d people here because i know many blogs aren’t active on a regular basis. apologies if i missed someone (i’m sure i did). hugs for everyone

@1dclowns @hrrytomlinson @sandiazucar @fookinfreezin @hoeranghae @wlwmermald @tomlinsun @epubgf @heyangel @fireproofs @90sgrungelouis @lirry @iconichalo @itsnotreal @aquickstart @roguecurls @harryscuddles @hoteyelinerguy @babyy-honey @goldencereza @kindathoughtprovoking @kindofsharethat @fuchsiasea @queerbloodyangel @tofiveohfive @aboutmetamorphosis @wastelandbabyblue @delicatepointofview @twentybiqueen @girlcrushau @chaoticsue @chimnation @akasakasads @icouldbeluckyagain @alloutshirt @half-lightl @halohamilton @willowfey @meltedwings @softandslow @loustyles @onedirectiom @pop-punklouis @pridesobright @finexbright @femstyles @baawree @iamnathanscott @avocadolouie @userautumn @niallerer @itsnothesameasitwas @usignedupforthis @svpportive @svncourt

[angstflavoured]

A little fiddauthor analysis...

Making this post mostly just to get all of my thoughts out about it regarding how I think it is inherently very toxic on both ends, despite people treating it as more wholesome near the beginning when they were both younger… and the fact that I think it’s very incredibly one-sided. I’m strictly going to be talking about CANON events, not headcanons or speculations or AU’s. If you wanna draw Fiddleford and Ford being cute and hugging and dating, I don’t care, I like a lot of the content for them myself. It isn’t canon to the show and doesn’t affect or harm anybody. That’s what a fandom is and I’m not trying to police anyone, I just think a lot of people misinterpret their relationship and thought it would be fun to talk about it because I find their dynamic really interesting. I’m going to be using a lot of direct quotes and scenes from Ford’s journal, TBOB, and the show, so buckle in baby ! This was supposed to be a quicker and smaller one while I work on my Billford essay, but I had a lot more to say than I thought…

First off, it’s interesting to see how Ford thinks their interaction after so long is going to go. In Journal 3 he says he has “no choice” but to call Fiddleford up to work on the portal because Ford just doesn’t have the smarts to do what he wants to do himself, and he thinks he’s going to have to literally beg Fiddleford to join him. But as we see in the journal and in the show, it hardly takes ANY convincing at all for Fiddleford to drop everything he was doing and leave his wife and kid for months on end to work on a project he knows nothing about. All the info he has he got over a short phone call. It seems like Ford, at this point being so close with Bill and thinking he’s the only one who cares about him, just assumed that most people he used to talk with don’t think about him anymore. He’s had Bill whispering in his ear that he’s the only one who understands him, so it makes sense he doesn’t think Fiddleford will want to do this with him. But from what it looks like, Fiddleford either has been waiting every second for Ford specifically to get back to him, or just has been waiting for any excuse to get the hell away from his family which is… yeesh. Either way, not very healthy regarding his wife and kid. He doesn’t seem to really care all that much about either of them, but more on that later.

Obviously Ford cares about Fiddleford, as soon as he comes down to live with him, Ford hasn’t been so happy in a good while. He missed human connection, despite how good things were going with Bill. Having another person there to talk with was nice. Despite Fiddleford having strange quirks that did irk Ford, he found them endearing and genuinely felt better in his company.

But I think the biggest thing here a lot of people overlook is that Ford only ever refers to Fiddleford as his college buddy in the show, and in the journals as “my assistant.” I’ve seen so many people have Ford call him his partner, but he actually only calls him this like once in the show i think. It’s always my assistant, my research, my theory. Which is funny because Ford didn’t come up with any of this stuff with the portal on his own. Bill was the one that gave him the blueprints. Fiddleford even questions Ford at one point, asking if he had help coming up with them because of how complex they are, and Ford decidedly DOESN’T mention Bill and instead tells him “with hard work, anything is possible.” (Btw he does refer to Bill as his partner multiple times… just sayin.)

The way he talks to and about Fiddleford, Ford is always talking down. He does think that Fiddleford is smart and does think he has a brilliant mind, but he still thinks that he’s below him.

Because Ford has Bill.

And oh my lord, do I not see anyone talk about this. Soooo many comics always depict Fiddleford knowing about Bill existence, but I think the biggest roadblock with their ship and a huge point of contention is that Fiddleford never canonically knows about Ford’s relationship with Bill until after he’s already lost his mind when he’s old. He doesn’t even KNOW that he exists until he’s half sucked through the portal. People ignore this, but it’s so important to their dynamic. Ford doesn’t think that Fiddleford could handle it, and he doesn’t think he necessarily deserves to know. Because Bill is Fords thing. Their relationship is special. Ford is special.

Ford claims he doesn’t tell Fiddleford about Bill because he would throw him in a looney bin, despite their research being so whimsical and ridiculous already. They’re literally building a portal to a different dimension, Fiddleford would’ve believed him. And the way Ford talks about it, you can tell it’s less about Fiddleford thinking he’s crazy and more about something else.

Could F ever truly appreciate the complex fates that brought me and my Muse together?

He doesn’t think Fiddleford could APPRECIATE it. The language he uses, you can tell that Ford knows that Fiddleford would see right through Bill’s facade. And Ford doesn’t want that because he wants to be friends with Bill and he wants to be special, and he’d rather hide Bill and stay in denial than tell his dearest friend, just so he can feel special a little longer.

This is why I think as much as Fiddleford’s romantic feelings for Ford were there, it never ended up going anywhere. Ford would always choose Bill over him. When Fiddleford got him the axolotl pet, Ford quickly threw it out and lied about it to Fiddleford just because Bill told him to. And there’s multiple cases of interactions like this, where Bill will talk down about Fiddleford and Ford will just be like damn… yeah. Here’s a journal excerpt from TBOB around Christmas time. For context, Ford got into a huge fight with a monster and tried to contact Bill to help him, but he didn’t come. And then Bill randomly shows up later when Ford’s at home decorating.

I was almost roasted by Krampus, and where was he? Off inspiring some other scientist? Posing for some tapestry? Were we even partners? He threw the accusation back in my face. “Hey, I’m not the one skipping portal work to carouse with a third-wheel hillbilly with second thoughts about our project!” I started to argue--but he had a point. F has seemed less and less committed to work lately.

Which is INSANE !!! when we see that only a fucking page ago, Fiddleford was explaining how he got in a fight with his wife because he didn’t get her a present for Christmas. After spending multiple weeks and making multiple prototypes for a pair of 6 fingered gloves for Ford.

And if we hop back to Journal 3, there’s a particular interaction with them which is crazy to me. While hiking up a mountain to go to Crash Site Omega, they get into a fight with the Gremloblin, which fucking swoops up Fiddleford into the sky. In Ford’s attempt to get him down, they both end up falling down through the roof of a barn, where Fiddleford gets stuck full of quills and breaks his arm.

Despite our fortune, I have become worried about my assistant. I was able to treat his physical wounds, but I fear there are mental wounds not as easily remedied. For the past several nights, he has been unable to sleep, apparently still haunted by the Gremloblin’s gaze. More alarming is his Cubic’s Cube. It has sat scrambled, unfixed, on his desk for days. I myself have survived many monster attacks without trauma, but perhaps F is more sensitive than I realized…

OH. MY. GOD. The way that Ford talks so condescendingly is enough to make any person's blood boil. It’s the same way when Fiddleford gets sucked through the portal, and when Fiddleford gets pulled back, Ford’s first words out of his mouth are “WHAT DID YOU SEE!”

As much as he cared for Fiddleford… he has no regard at all for Fiddlefords VERY VALID feelings about events that would traumatize literally anyone. But he just pats Fiddlefords back and tells him to get used to it because this is just part of the job and he shouldn’t be whining so much. He does nothing to properly comfort him and scoffs it off like “apparently he’s ‘TRAMATIZED’ or something. I’ve been through so much worse and never had a problem, I don’t get what his issue is.” And then ford is SURPRISED AND APPALLED when Fiddleford creates the memory gun.

Which oohhhhh lord, the memory gun. jesus christ. Such a big example of the distrust between them on both sides. Fiddleford literally canonically lied about destroying the gun and then erased Fords memory about it so that he could erase his own memories in secret without him knowing. And also probably fords sometimes! Not completely canon, but like…. Fiddleford did it once, I wouldn’t put it past the guy. And then when they go to the carnival, Fiddleford hands out his fucking card to Ivan (the leader of the society of the blind eye, who was a teen/early 20s at the time) so that he can erase memories for him that he didn’t like.

Biggest thing we can take away from everything regarding Fiddleford’s character, is that he always takes the easy way out. He ran away from his family he obviously didn’t really care for as much as he should’ve because that was easier than talking it out or divorcing. He pushed it aside for later. Bro was literally looking for a fucken Brokeback Mountain situation, but Ford wasn’t giving anything back to him. So instead Fiddleford constantly made a fool of himself doing things for Ford and tripping over himself to show his gratitude when all the while Ford was entirely focused on Bill. and then he just goes around and starts erasing memories, because it’s easier than having to actually deal with things. Which is why I don’t foresee a reality in which Fiddauthor makes sense, in the way they actually end up doing anything together. Because Fiddleford’s too much of a coward to admit his feelings first, and Ford obviously has his sights on someone else.

And here’s the BIGGEST damning thing, like oh my god.

In Journal 3, Ford goes to a fortune teller (which don’t get me fucking started on how judgy he is to her and how much he talks down about her, DESPITE HER BEING LEGIT AND ACTUALLY WARNING HIM). Long story short, she gives Ford a spiel about how someone close to him is deceiving him. She then gives him a mood ring and says “when this is blue, you may pull through. When this is black, you can’t turn back.”

And LO AND BEHOLD!! OH MY FUCKING GOD, when they’re at the carnival and Fiddleford is talking to Ivan and whispering--

Ford. Looks down. To check if the ring is black.

I took one last look down at my hand and was strangely relieved to find that the palm reader’s ring was still blue. I shoved it in my pocket, collected F, and tried to put the whole experience out of my mind.

FORD LITERALLY THOUGHT ABOUT THE IDEA OF FIDDLEFORD BETRAYING HIM BEFORE BILL. IN FACT, HE LITERALLY NEVER MENTIONS THINKING IT WAS BILL ONCE.

He talks about how they got into a fight at dinner the night before the portal test because Fiddleford was having second thoughts about it being dangerous, and Ford told him to be there or he would get left behind. He’d do it without him.

And when Fiddleford gets pulled through the portal and quits the project, Ford says gooooddd fucking riddance, I never even needed you bro.

F, you weak-willed hayseed! Go back to your doting family and a life of fear and compromise! I weep now not for our failed partnership, but for the golden opportunity thrown away. To think I considered him a friend! I know my true friend. It is my Muse.

One of the few times he ever refers to it as partnership btw. Literally only when they break everything off.

And Ford only starts fighting with Bill about everything after it starts directly hurting him. It literally just seems like Ford is less upset about Bill’s plan being evil, and more upset at the fact that he lied to Ford LMAOOOOO he didn’t like the fact that he was disposable and lesser to Bill, despite Ford treating Fiddleford the exact same way.

At the end of all of this… it may seem like I’m really fighting against this ship, but not in the slightest. I LOVEEEE them so much, but in a way where it would be really toxic and not actually end up with anything happening.

Such a biggg theme when it comes to Ford’s character specifically is yearning. He yearns for success and attention and love and acceptance, but he’s constantly never giving other people those things. Which ends in him not receiving any in return. That is obviously until he gets back from dimension hopping and works on being a better person. When he starts towards healing, that’s when he starts receiving what he always wanted.

There’s so much tension between Ford and Fiddleford it's like disgusting, they were so incredibly gay… but, I hate to say it, it was very one-sided. They did have some fun times together and Ford enjoyed his company for quite a bit, but it was nothing like how Fiddleford felt for him. Fiddleford was always thinking about how Ford was feeling and what he was doing, and Ford never really did that for Fiddleford unless he was prompted to. But he was alwayasyayayss thinking about how Bill felt. And he always chose Bill in the end.

I just see so much of all of this get swept under the rug and never addressed, when it's kind of sad because it’s all so interesting and really adds a lot to both of their characters. They were both so morally gray back in their day, and honestly even more so now that they’re older, and its kinda sad to see that all go ignored. I JUST LOVE TOXIC GAYS SM AND THEY WERE SO TOXIC AND I’D LOVE TO SEE PEOPLE EXPLORE THAT MORE. Hopefully maybe this will prompt some people to think about it like this…….. It’s all so very tragic and their relationship was doomed from the start and i loveeeee shit like that. only misery to be had...

[tinygrove]

Decent Man Pt.1

The second part

Pairing: Cregan Stark/fem!reader

Author's Note: I've decided to split this into 2 parts just to give myself a chance to work on the ending but I was eager to get something written. This is the first fanfiction I've wrote, or at least posted on this account so I hope it's not too bad.

Summary: You're newly wed to Lord Stark after having only been courted for barely a month. Although the anxieties of having to perform as a 'royal' wife start to eat at you, Cregan proves to be a decent husband.

You must have done it, how else would you be alone in his chambers. Blocking out all the noise and going through the motions would only get you so far. You couldn’t even remember the vows. Lord Stark had arranged for there to be no bedding ceremony, perhaps an act of mercy. You’ve heard some lords complain they simply want their lady wives all to themselves, untouched and unspoiled. You were neither. You weren’t sure if your Lord husband was either. 

You hadn’t learned much about him during your courting, not that it lasted long. Your father practically jumped at the opportunity for a stronger alliance to the most powerful house in the North. It must have appeased Lord Stark as well, seeing how quickly he’d agreed to the marriage, it had barely taken place a fortnight after you’d met. Now though, you were in his room, none to accompany you but your ladies in waiting. A few had come with you from your own keep, or rather your fathers. And one or two had been appointed to you since coming to Winterfell to stay. You could hardly form the words to tell them you could undress yourself. Maybe it was the cloak weighing you down, making it harder to breath the harsh winter air. You let it slip off your shoulders and yet you still feel heavy, a weight in your chest and a hard lump in your throat. 

Hearing the thick wooden door swing open and shut after heavy footfalls and quick scurrying of feet made the pit in your stomach sink even lower. “Are you well?” He asked, definitely due to your silent stewing. The whole night you’ve been lost in your own thoughts. 

“Yes, I am well, thank you.” You force a courteous smile to you face, although more brief and sour than you’d intended. You figure you’ll have to do a lot more of that in the coming years. “You do not look well.” Your not sure he says so in a demeaning way, more so that he’s seen through your flimsy facade. Or maybe he’s focused on the way your hands desperately seek purchase on your gown as your eyes start to brim with tears. You can’t control it when they start to spill. 

“There is no need for us to,” He gestures between you with a sigh, trying to supplement actions for words. “consummate the marriage tonight, if you do not wish it.” He tries to search your eyes for any sort of answer but you avoid his gaze. “Did you hear-” 

“Let’s just get it over with.” You say, voice low and wavering with all it’s strength to keep it from cracking. Another stray tear falls down your cheek as you reach behind yourself for the laces of your gown but two large hands hold your arms still. 

“You truly think so little of me? That I would– Like I said, there is no need to consummate the marriage tonight.” He brings your arms out from behind your back, holding your chilled hands in his. His fingers and palms are calloused, yet his grip gentle. “I barely had a chance to court you before we wed, perhaps we might come to know each other before; that.” Your eyes flicker down to where his hands encompass yours, and he quickly recedes after catching on but strangely, you find yourself missing his warmth. 

As your eyes find his once more he continues. “I shall have a few ladies in your service prepare a chamber for you. I know you’ve not had space for your things but I assure you they’ve been taken care of. In the mean time though you’ll need to take your rest here.” He turns to make for the door and surprisingly a part of you longs for him to stay. The brief bit of kindness he’s shown to you is more than you can say for those that attended your wedding. Your father truly had not exaggerated the icy attitude of those in the North. Lord Stark however, to see his wintry exterior slowly melt away has made it almost impossible to detest him. “I will see you on the morrow, my lady.” He opens the door and a cold breeze comes over you, yet you don’t shiver, the cold only emboldens you. “Thank you, Lord Stark, for your kindness.” your voice is somewhat steady now, no longer fighting an imminent sob. He nods at your words, “Cregan will do just fine, my lady.” You’re alone now and the chill is gone. All the warmth radiating from the hearth is slowly becoming too much to bear even as it smolders to embers. The absence of your Lord husband leaves you feeling alone now, more than you’ve ever been.

[yuvany]

CHRITSMAS TREE SHOPPING // ENHYPEN

OT7 ENHYPEN x f !reader contains : est relationship + not ptoofread // no cw !! 𝐰𝐜: 1.2k

─── ( on point ) this is promt nr.12 for @cupidhoons seaon of romance event !! such a fun idea and I enjoyed writing this a lot.

NOTE : finally back and posting... enjoy ? I hope

reblogs are always appreciated !!

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

going shopping with him sometimes felt more like a task, especially when it was time for holidays. Heeseung becomes competative and fierce because if he really wants something, he'll fight for it - even when you're his girlfriend. On the walk over to the christmas tree market, you could feel the intensity radiating off him, and you start to get worried, because well, it's only a tree, right? Wrong. "What tree do you wanna get?" You ask your boyfriend who was holding your hand in his that was cosily in his pocket. "I really want a classic green, and you, babe?" He asked, and you felt his eyes on you. "I wanna try white one this year!" Upon hearing that, Heeseung purses his lips. "White?" "yes! have you not seen those pinterest posts?" At this point, the two of you have stopped walking, and were blocking the way, going back and forth on what colour was the best. "Will you agree if I give you a kiss?" you say at least, and he replies, "One won't be enough. How about a hundred more, mm?"

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

Jay doesn't seem like the type to be very picky when it comes to choosing stuff, he only wanted to know what you were interested in. "Have any plans for Christmas?" He asked you, walking beside you on the side walk that hardly looked any different from the road where cars drove by, their window swipers shoving the snow away from the glass. "Actually, no idea." Jay sweats, because what are two clueless lovers supposed to do in a market? "What do you think?" You asked your boyfriend, He clears his throat and pullls out his phone. This motivates you to continue picking on him the whole walk there. "I don't know either, babe." He admits at last. "We gotta YOLO it I suppose, let's hurry, I wanna look at the trees!" You say and pull him behind you. Even though you didn't know what you wanted to buy, you somehow knew what you did not like. "This one is pretty." Jay said, pointing at a dark green coloured one. "we for sure have different tastes." You comment with a scowl.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

Jake wants to find the perfect christmas tree, a tree where he can place all the presents he had bought for you. The market was filled with trees ranging of different heights and colours, you did not really care what tree you guys would carry home at the end of the day, but Jake was running around the place with you on his tail. "babe, calm down!" You call out, your legs almost giving up on you. "Hurry! look at that one!" He says, stopping only to tell you to keep up with him. You heave a sigh and stomp your feet, frustrated. "c'mon..." Jake moops, his palms on your shoulders. "Just pick a tree, you're not an expert." You groan, and Jake shakes his head. "But we need to find the perfect tree. I'm not leaving until we find the one." "Just pick any one, the decorations will make the tree pretty." You argue, your head finding his chest as exhaustion catches up to you.

𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙆 𝙎𝙐𝙉𝙂𝙃𝙊𝙊𝙉

It's been hours of walking around the place, and the both of you could not agree on one tree that the both of you found pretty. At first he said he didn't care, but gradually he revealed his real demeanour. "But you said I could pick whichever one!" You whine, and Sunghoon shoves his hands into his pockets cluelessly. "What do you mean, sweetie? I did not say that." Sunghoon lied. You shake your head at his words, feeling betrayed by the one you thought you could trust the most. "It's just a tree, hoonie, and you can't take back a promise. We pinky promised." Sunghoon remembers this vividly and winces as he tries to make an excuse, but he can't find one that'll satisfy the both of you. "Sure, go ahead. I did promise you, lovely." He walks towards you and wraps an arm around your shoulders. "Do you really want this brown, poop-coloured tree?" "I was actualy joking with you." You admit.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

Sunoo is a perfectionist, but he also loves you. You had walked up to a classic tree that had that traditional musky colour, the scent of freshly cut wood and the aroma of chirstmas making its way through the market. Something classic could never go wrong, right? That's what you thought at least until you look over your shoulder to get Sunoo's opinion. Upon the sight of his raised eyebrow, crossed arms as he tapped his boot against the thinly covered ground, you start to second guess. "Babe, what do you think of this?" You ask with hesitation. He lets out a hum, "It's alright, I suppose." You shurg his reaction off, and turn to look to the next tree due to his reaction. He sees this, and gets ahold of your shoulder. "Why did you continue looking? Didn't you want this one?" He asks, and you shrug. "I mean, it didn't seem like you liked it." You explained. "I mean, as long as I get to decorate it, I'm fine with anything." Sunoo reassures, and you chuckle.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

He could not care less about what tree would be carried home that eveing, he just wanted to tease you. Whenever you suggested a tree, he'd turn down the option. It came to the point where you were pointing at every christmas tree that you passed and he'd still shake his head.Your legs began to get tired and you stood in place in front of a classic short tree and pointed at it. "What about this one then?" You asked him with an eyebrow cocked upwards. Jungwon had his fingers around his chin as he was mocking a stance deep in thought. "Are you sure about this one?" He asked. "Goodness, this is the last one in this place and the one you haven't said no to. Go pick one for yourself." You sighed and Jungwon combed his hair back upon seeing your tired state. "babe, I was just teasing, get whichever one you want and decoration, and I'll pay." He offers with a hand cupping your cheek.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

"What do you think of this one?" you asked, trying to find at least one tree that the two of you could agree on. "Can't you see that it has too many branches?" Riki judges, and you can't believe how childish he is being. "That one is the perfect one," he continues, pointing at a tree in the distance. "Are you really sure, because I find that it is very ugly. no offence." You sass, looking at the too tall tree. You feel his sharp gaze judge you, but you only giggle at this, knowing you managed to tick him off. "So... what do you wanna do?" You asked him, nudging your shoulder with his. "Obviously that tree." Riki looks over at the one he was insisiting on bringing home. "Lets settle this with rock paper scissor." You challenged him, and he eagerly nodded. "Rock, paper scissor..." He counted down, and you played a paper, and he did a scissor, resulting in his victory. "You were just lucky this time." You sulk.

TAGLIST : @dollyhoon @itjengirl @saeivra @orimuraa @pshwrldd

[imjustasugablob]

Feel Me Up pt. 2

trainer! leon x trainee! female! reader

part 1

tags: piv, penetration, teasing, spanking, dick riding, agegap(implied), slight degradation but reader is a smartass back

You lay in bed, staring at the dark outline of the dangling ceiling lamp. The soft snoring of your bunkmate acted as white noise, but you still couldn't sleep.

Did I really just try to hook up with Leon? And then walk away?

You could hardly believe what happened wasn't just a wet dream. Even in a dream you couldn't imagine walking away from that position. But when it came to Leon you acted almost on autopilot, making snarky remarks in response to his questions, trying your best to piss him off, just as he did to you.

You didn't really know why you did it. Maybe to show him that you weren't as weak as he thought. But tonight must have really proved that you could match him.

You got out of bed, grabbing a jacket and tying up your shoes. You realised your hands shook a little.

Fuck, there's no way I'm getting any sleep tonight.

Might as well take a walk.

You weren't going to find him, just going on a simple walk to ease your nerves.

Right?

Then why are my hands shaking?

As you made your way to the yard behind the dorm building, you came across the rooms reserved for senior officials of the government posted here. You didn't know how, but you did end up in front of Leon's private chambers, staring at the engraved nameplate fitted into the mahogany door. A faint light could be seen peeking from under the door, spilling out onto the hallway. You simply stood there, thinking back to the day you first met him, all the way to earlier tonight. How you'd always found him attractive, but it seemed simply improper to think those thoughts, so you buried them away.

Suddenly, you heard a click in the doorknob.

Shit, is he coming out?

You tried to hurry away but your shoes seemed to be welded to the floor beneath you. Like a deer in headlights, you froze in place as the door swung wide open.

Leon, seemingly surprised by your appearance, stood completely still at the threshold. Your eyes took a second to get used to the light coming from inside his room, but the first thing you noticed was that he wasn't wearing a shirt.

Oh, God.

It wasn't the first time you were seeing him like this. After all, it wasn't uncommon for the men you trained with to ditch their shirts halfway through practice, drenched in sweat. But it was different that time. It would have been weird to ogle at him as he explained to you the basics of striking technique, although some of the girls didn't seem to think that it was unprofessional to eyefuck him in broad daylight.

No, it wasn't like this.

Right now, he looked vulnerable. His hair was disheveled, bags drooping under his eyes. He straightened his slumped shoulders, blinking the strain out of his eyes, as if he thought you were a hallucination.

Everything about him looked softer now. Except for his eyes.

You couldn't tell what he was thinking, but looking into the cerulean depths, you could imagine it to be the violent sea crashing against the cliffside with enough force to cut through the ancient rock.

You cleared your throat, having lost all the earlier ferocity with which you had taken control over the older man. "Uhm. H-hey."

He didn't respond, but continued to take you in with his eyes. The tension still lingered, draped over you like a weighted blanket, making it hard to breathe correctly.

"You should go." Leon finally replied after what seemed like ages. His voice sounded gravelly, deeper. His tone was devoid of any emotion, not even a hint or acknowledgement towards what had happened between you two.

"Yeah, I was just- yeah. Okay.", you said as you turned away from his body, slowly yanking your eyes from him, with great difficulty.

You walked slowly, maybe a couple metres, before realising that he hadn't shut his door.

Why isn't he going back?

You paused, not knowing whether you should turn around or not. Was he waiting for you to?

In a split second, a thousand thoughts seemed to be rushing through your mind. Leon consumed all of them. The way his hand felt in yours, his calloused fingers leaving marks in the dip of your waist. How beautiful he was.

Was it even a question?

You slowly looked over your shoulder to find Leon leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, like he just knew that you were gonna go back to him.

Like his fucking lap dog.

However casual his pose was, his eyes gave away how he really felt, as they darkened on seeing the desire in your own.

In just two steps you crossed over to where he was, and he closed the gap between you instantly, pulling you into a deep kiss, your chest flush against his. It felt like you were continuing from right where you left off.

Leon pulled you into his cabin, shutting the door behind him and pinning you against the wall without breaking the kiss. His tongue flicked across your bottom lip, and you parted your lips as he began to explore the inside of your mouth.

"You're not going anywhere now, darling", he said as he reached behind you to lock the door. The word didn't feel endearing, but rather a taunt, inviting you to retaliate.

You dug your nails into his shoulders, causing him to groan into your mouth. "Don't get too cocky now, Kennedy."

A rookie referring to a senior agent like that was bold. Not bolder than having sex with your direct superior, though, you thought as you felt his boner pressing up against your thigh.

He chuckled softly. "Oh, you just have to run that pretty little mouth of yours, don't ya?"

"I think it's high time you stop taking it and show me how it makes you feel", you said.

You broke free from his arms and made your way to his bed. Taking off your shirt, and then your pants as you faced away from him, making sure to give him a great view of your ass.

You heard his low growl, which made the hair on your neck rise.

You felt him approach you from behind before he pushed you into the mattress, landing with your ass up, directly facing him. Before you could get a word out, a hard slap landed on your ass, stinging as he kneaded the soft flesh.

"How it makes me feel? It makes me wanna fuck that dirty mouth of yours till you can't say shit no more."

Another slap resounded in the room, making you moan out loud this time.

"Oh you like that, don't you? You want me to treat you like the little whore you are, hmm?"

You had never really been into degradation before.

I guess this is one way of finding out.

Leon pulled aside your panties as he ran his fingers over your slit, covered in arousal.

"Already so wet for me. You shouldn't have left earlier baby, I would have taken care of your little problem."

He slowly made his way to your clit, rubbing circles over the bundle of nerves, making you grasp at the sheets, desperate for release. God, you were so pent up.

"I need you...", you managed to croak out between laboured breaths.

"Then say it." Leon increased the speed of his fingers on your clitoris now, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. He slapped your sensitive bundle, not hard but enough to make you see stars.

"Leon, I need you inside me! I want your dick, please let me-" you choked up as your orgasm washed over you that very instant, making you writhe in pleasure as he brought you down from your high.

"That fast? Fucking hell." Leon felt the blood rush straight down as he looked at you completely fucked out from just his fingers. You could be as defiant and bratty as you wanted when it came to talk, but the way his fingers seemed to know every inch of you made you completely helpless in front of him, reduced to a blabbering, pleading mess.

Leon flipped over your body, climbing on top of you as he kissed you once more, now with a sense of impatience and desperation. Your little show had affected him much more than he was letting on, and he'd be damned if his dick wasn't inside you as soon as possible.

You tugged at the waistband of his sweatpants, encouraging him to take them off. In the dim light, you could see him rummaging around for a condom in his bedside drawer before hearing the sound of ripping foil.

He positioned himself at your entrance, rubbing his tip back and forth over your slit as his unintelligible murmurs against your ears sent you in a trance, repeating his name over and over like a mantra as he pushed inside. It was definitely a stretch, added to the fact that it had been long since you found yourself in bed with someone.

You gasped, overwhelmed by the sensation. You could feel the throbbing vein on his cock against your velvety walls, making your toes curl in pure, unadulterated pleasure. Leon pulled out completely, leaving you whining. He was teasing the hell out of you, which couldn't have been easy for him, either.

A wave of anger rose at this thought, how he would deny himself pleasure just to see you suffer. You suddenly sat up and climbed onto his lap, positioning his cock just right, and sank down on him all the way to the hilt.

Leon moaned out loud at the unexpected feeling. Your walls clenched around his length, like a prison he never wanted to leave. Grabbing his shoulders, you began rocking your hips up and down, not breaking eye contact.

"Fuck, baby, you're so good at this."

You might have blushed if it was coming from someone else. Who were you kidding, you would never have dared to act this ambitious had it been someone else. But Leon was different. You didn't have to think when it came to him. All you wanted was to make him feel good. To hear that sweet, sweet praise from his mouth, that he had denied you all those weeks at training.

Leon grabbed your hips and pulled them inwards, changing the angle and hitting your G spot. He began meeting your hips with his own, thrusting upwards, drilling even deeper into your pussy. You were on the verge again.

"Come on, baby, come for me. Come all over my dick," Leon said as his thrusts began to grow sloppier.

His dirty words did the job of sending you over the edge, the burning knot in your stomach coming undone at his request. He wasn't far behind, fucking you through your orgasm as he reached his own, whispering your name the whole while.

Your breathing slowly returned to normal as you continued to hold on to him, feeling him going soft inside you.

"God, that was good," you said.

"Training's in an hour, princess. There's still time for some extra lessons, don't you think?"

tw: LONG authors note rambling ahead

thank bloody HEAVENS this is over. I mulled over a completely written out story, decided it's trash, erased it all instead of writing a new draft and wrote something EVEN WORSE. I'm not satisfied by how this turned out at all, but honestly I had to rush it cause I'm going through some personal (DINO) crises. Also can y'all tell I've never had sex before 💀 I really wanted to include oral but I ran out of time and mental energy. I'll write it in some other fic and make it actually good this time. Thank you for reading my story nevertheless and a comment really means the world to me, i really appreciate all the love and support I got on the first part. I never thought I'd get a 100 likes on the first ever work i publish and I'm sorry for this one being a disappointment. I probably won't be writing again for a long time cause I have a really big paper due after the holidays but oh well I wrote the first part in an hour the DAY OF a big submission so we'll see. Thank you once again, and happy holidays!

xoxo

BLOB