#also i have like an internship day at work in like three hours

[mellohiizz]

(✿ ◠ᴗ◠) (✿ ◠ᴗ◠) (✿ ◠ᴗ◠) im skipping and frolicking in flower fields because my life is filled with joy and whimsy. someone talked to me about manebu earlier and im thriving

wbu :3

that's great, i'm very happy for you, eme! ^_^ i'm okay, filled with whimsy, as always! talking about weird critters that i like.

[miodiodavinci]

the burnout is real lads . . . . .

[oflgtfol]

on gawd i mentioned a few days ago my undergrad internship supervisor reached out to me asking if i’d be interested in a graduate internship. and so i just had a zoom meeting w her today to discuss it and like. i was expecting it for the fall semester once i was officially a student again but somehow i just walked out of that zoom meeting with an internship starting this summer. aka the end of this month

[picorimori]

it is week 5 and every week has been crazy like. give me. a break. please.

[preserve-or-raze]

my tags got out of hand

i keep thinking about hobbies and how i often spill over myself to pick up new ones. i have adhd, i end up trying something for like a month and then just getting far enough in it that i move on, satisfied.

and that should be fine; but it's never fine.

i am a pretty decent artist; but i can't just make art for my dnd campaign, i should be selling dnd maps and character designs and scene setting pieces. i can't just make my friends matching earrings, i need to get an etsy and ship them internationally and take bulk orders. i make pretty good props and decorations and use them to throw my friends parties - but i should be running a party planning business and start taking paying clients and networking and putting my skills to actual use.

for some reason, i never figured out the specifics of pottery. it was a fun class and i enjoyed myself - and still, i'm embarrassed, years later, that i put in all that useless effort. everything i make has to be stunning. stellar. i should have applied myself more. maybe i'm too lazy. maybe i'm broken and selfish and needy. actually creative people would have kept going; they would be bettering themselves at every possible opportunity.

we find ourselves in this trap, even accidentally: we need to commodify our time, because it is a commodity. if we spend our efforts and our time not earning, isn't that the same thing as burning free money? and god forbid you ever take up a hobby that ends up being more expensive than you thought. you sit in your car and you look at the receipt and in your head you hear a conversation that isn't even happening - your mom or your friend or your partner all saying oh great. not this shit again. it's always something with you, and it never actually means anything.

i have realized this horrible thing, recently - i'll get excited to start a project, pick up a new hobby. and then i just... stop myself. i start thinking about the amount of time it will take, and how it'll look in my monthly budget. what if i can't even produce a good enough final product. sure, it's exciting to think about how i could make my friend her own custom dice. but i'm just polluting the earth if i don't get it right. better not bother. better not try.

restless, i get caught in the negative space. the feeling that oh god, i want to create. and that horrible sense - yeah, but i don't have the time to just put to waste.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITAH for telling my wife no?

My wife (35f) and I (38m) have been married for 12 years, dated for 3 before that. We have 3 kids (10m, 7f, and 5f). We both work full time in separate fields, she does some chemistry thing that I don't understand and I am a manager at a computer repair store my friend runs, and also a short story writer when its slow. She is definitely the breadwinner bill payer between the two of us, but I bring in the fun money for our family and would be completely listless if I didn't at least work part time. We also fully own our home because of her job.

Also, my parents watch the kids for us during the week when we are working. It's been this way since our son was born, and they've been doing it less since they are all in school. But it's free childcare, they refuse to accept money unless it's reimbursing for buying food.

Ok, now that all of that backstory is set, here's where the problem begins.

A couple of months ago my wife started pepper into conversations about a possible promotion coming up that would get her out of the lab and into a more "manage the lab team" position, with less dangerous hours for more pay. Ever since the first time she mentioned it I've been hyping her up and telling her she's a shoo in for the promotion, especially since she's been working there since her masters internship and now she has a PhD.

Last night she told me she was getting word today if she got it! After she left for work this morning I called my boss up and told him I couldn't come in today, and then told my parents the kids were saying with me. We spent the day cleaning the house, drawing congratulations cards, and making a congratulations banner. We also made a couple cards that say sorry and we love you for if she didn't get it. I was working on making her favorite dinner (lobster rolls with lobster bisque, because she's a fancy lady) when she got home earlier than normal. Everyone was surprised, because noone is usually home at this time and yet here everyone was. She got tears in her eyes seeing everything we were still working on, got down and hugged our two youngest, and said she got the promotion! Cheering all around! And that's when she dropped the bomb, saying we need to get a realtor in a state three away from us so we can relocate within the next two months.

I was stunned, and just said no, we arent moving for this promotion. In all of her talks she never mentioned that the promotion wasn't for the same location she's been at. All of our family is here, her parents and mine, all of our friends are here, my job is here. She insisted that she's mentioned relocating before but I swear she never did. That set of a completely new argument about never listening to her and only hearing what I want to hear, and how this will make it so I can stay home with the kids and not even need a fun money job. During this I noticed she was typing on her phone, and when I asked why she was multitasking an argument she said she was texting my parents to get the kids so they don't have to see this.

When my parents got here they congratulated her on the promotion and asked how long until we move.

She told my parents the promotion included relocation.

I'm typing this on the couch in the basement, because I can't face her right now. My parents knowing means she probably did say we would need to move if she got it. I don't want to move, I like my job, and our house. I like being near my parents. I know this would practically set us for life but I don't want to. I know I'm being selfish, and I know I must not be listening when she talks, but I still don't think she should accept the promotion. I still think no.

What are these acronyms?

[madamechrissy]

=͟͟͞♡ Healing Hearts =͟͟͞♡

=͟͟͞♡ Pairings:-Doctor Gojo x Intern F!Reader

=͟͟͞♡ Contents/warnings- Medical procedures, surgery descriptions, crazy sexual tension, eventually explicit sex etc. ER setting. Reader 26, Dr. Gojo 34, small age gap, work sex, complications, lots of humor, eventual drama and angst. Grey's vibes ✨️

=͟͟͞♡ Summary- You are the top Surgical Doctor intern, along with Maki, Yuta and Toge. You all are exhausted from passing the first month, sixteen plus hour days, days you don't even go home, all to get a top spot with the star Surgeon, Dr. Gojo, your resident doctor and boss. Or as you call him, Dr. Hojo. He's takes nothing serious but his surgeries it seems, and has a reputation for being a player, but he has that top spot, so you want to prove your worth! You just have to ignore those stupid butterflies he gives you, and those pretty blue eyes, along with his interest in you, and focus!

Comment to get added to the tag list

=͟͟͞♡ Playlist =͟͟͞♡ Masterlist =͟͟͞♡

♡ Part One ♡

Fuck, you’re exhausted, the first month of your internship as a surgeon was brutal, you haven’t had but a couple hours of sleep here and there, mostly on some of the hospital beds. Your bones ache, your skincare routine is barely hanging by a thread, and your hair is a wreck in a messy bun today. You thought med school was difficult, but it was nothing like this.

“Hey, you okay babe?” Your best friend Maki Zenin asks softly, you look at her and smile, nodding, she purses her lips, tilting her glasses.  “No you’re not.”

“I’m wiped, Maki. This patient injected cocaine up his ass.” She bursts out laughing right in the middle of the hospital floor, you cover her mouth quickly, looking around. “Shh!”

“Shit, forreal? I thought my case was bad, he’s been here eight times for hits of pain meds since I have been here, he keeps bashing his hand on shit.” She sighs, handing her files to the desk then picking up several more.

You’re both in your pale blue scrubs, Maki’s pretty green hair is high up in a ponytail, now your other two best friends from your internship come up, Inumaki Toge and Yuta Okkotsu, both looking exhausted along with you. Yuta’s eye bags rival yours by far, he slicks back his dark hair as you all check the time on your watches.

“Another sixteen hours almost down.” He says through a yawn.

“Tired.” Inumaki says, and you sigh, nodding in agreement.

“Fuck that, we need to throw a party.” Maki says, somehow still so energetic, and you’re so confused how it’s possible.

“Party?” Inumaki asks, he’s certainly a man of few words, but his violet eyes explain whatever anyone needs to know.

“No way, Maki. Fuck that.” Yuta says, earning Maki sticking her tongue out at him.

“Buzz kill, ugh. Listen, this weekend, we’ll invite some of the people from our class, we can invite some of the other interns too. Ooh, maybe even those sexy resident doctors.” She wiggles her brows with a mischievous little grin.

“Maki, we're too old for that shit now.”  You grumble.

“Bitch we’re twenty six? How are we old.”

“I feel ancient.” Yuta agrees. “Coffee everyone?”

“I have to stop by Doctor Gojo’s real quick, meet you all there?” You say, and they nod, waving you off as you head to your Resident doctor’s office. Dr. Gojo was the boss of you four, one of the residents along with Dr. Nanami and Dr. Geto. All three were fawned over by all the interns, except you. 

Yes they were gorgeous, and yes Dr. Gojo was positively beautiful, with his snowy white hair, his glittery blue eyes, his big grin. But you were just too exhausted and too beat to really fawn over someone, especially someone you really could not be with, seeing as he is your resident, you’re just a little intern. Satoru also happens to be the top surgeon in the hospital.

You go to knock but see his door is cracked open, you carefully take the knob in your hand, twisting it and peeking your head in, seeing Satoru Gojo’s head fall back, as he’s gasping. You look curiously, but his hands are up on the desk, as he’s biting his lower lip, his brows together, eyes shut. You clear your throat and he jerks then, clearing his throat.

“Um… hey intern.” He says, his voice clipped. You shut the door behind you, tilting your head curiously at him, his face reddening slightly.

“Dr. Gojo, I have a question about this patient, is everything okay? It won’t take very long.” You say, and his eyes flicker over your face, an expression you can’t explain, as he sucks in a breath.

“I um… can listen… in… fuck, fuck!” He moans then, he clearly moans, and you hear a bump on his desk now. “Oh, oh that’s so much better.”

“I… what the fuck!?” He flushes then, sliding back, and one of the nurses jumps up, giggling now and wiping her mouth, she has pretty blue hair.

“Thank you Miwa, you’re a gem.” He stands, patting her head with a smile, and she giggles again, as you watch in confusion, your brows together, mouth open. “I need to talk to her about cool doctor things, I’ll see you around later?”

Cool Doctor things.

Blow jobs on the clock?

How is this your boss?

“Yes, Dr. Gojo. Hi there!” She waves at you, as if nothing has happened, as if she wasn’t just sucking Dr. Gojo off, and he’s looking bashful!?

“What the hell is this shit? Lock a door?” He comes to you, locking the big door with a click behind you. “Not now!”

“I forgot it was open, shit. I’m sorry. Stress relief, you know.” He smiles down at you, a stupid smirk you’d like to smack off his pretty face, hands in the pockets of his long white doctor jacket. “Don’t you ever need any?”

You heat up at his husky tone, as you realize just what you’d walked into. It had been a long time since you’d even thought that way, not just with Med school but now being an intern, especially since you broke up with your ex months back. “What? Yuck don’t come near me.”

“Why, ya jealous.” He brushes your hair back, earning your glare. “You’re awfully cute when you are.”

“Jealous of you? No thanks, I'm good. I sure am not part of your fan club.”

Satoru pouts. “Yeah, and you’re the only one.”

“Yep. Anyway, I’m now disturbed.” You shiver with feigned disgust, making him snort a bit in laughter. “But I only came in here to go over Mr. Lewis.” Sighing, you hand him the file with a gentle brush of your fingers against his palm. “He's been a difficult case.”

“Fuck, the cocaine dude? Ah shit, it’s that bad?”

“We have him stable, but something about it threw me off, how could it be that severe of an effect? Colitis has lasted days now and no improvement.”

“Mmm, true. But it makes sense, you can’t just inject cocaine into the anus and… have a party.” A hint of laughter escapes from his lips before he can control it, earning a stern look from you, making him study the file more carefully.

“Be serious.”

“I’m your boss, you know!”

“Yeah, somehow. Anyway, I feel there is something underlying. Perhaps exasperated by the cocaine.”

“Up the ass! Hah!” He’s smacking his long leg now, chuckling, earning your glare. “Oof you’re so serious, sorry, carry on.” He gives you a mock salute, and your eyes are so far back in your head they might stay that way.

“So I’m wondering if he has something else, untreated, the man has no history of any doctor visits since he was living with his parents.”

He taps his chin then. “Hmm, good point. It’s possible. Have we checked him for Chron’s?”

“Shit, maybe, that would make so much sense too, his white blood cell count is through the roof. I’ll leave a note to run some tests before I go.” You take the folder back then, your fingers brushing, and it brings a blush to your cheeks.

“What’s wrong, intern?”

“Just weirded out by you, Dr. Hojo.” He snorts then.

“Dr. Hojo!?”

“It’s what they call you, I guess it’s true.” You say, raising a brow, and he is leaning close, too close. You can smell that stupidly expensive cologne he wears every day, filling your senses far too much. You try to avoid those eyes, even though you look at them all the time, they still are…

Too much.

“And you don’t ever wanna just get eaten out?” You blush more now, looking down as he stands up tall, so fucking tall over you. “Don’t be shy now, we spend more time together than alone.”

“I don’t do that when not in relationships.” He pauses, and you expect some joke, since he takes nothing serious but surgery it seems. But he tilts your chin up, and studies you with those eyes, lids lowering ever so slightly.

“Aw, so you’re a good girl.” He says teasingly, causing a warm sensation to spread through your stomach at his words. You shake your head and try to ignore the fluttering feeling within you.

“Don’t say that!”

“Turn you on?”

“No! Jesus. I don’t care what people do with their bodies, I don’t care if you’re a whole manwhore-”

“Excuse me!”

“But I just need a relationship, I’m not attracted to just looks, there has to be a deeper connection.” He studies you carefully now, so serious unlike his usual goofy demeanor.

“Hmm, a challenge.”

“What now?” You glare up at him, clutching the folders to your chest tightly. “Not a challenge, you psycho. Go get all the blowjobs you want, like Thanos collecting all those infinity stones.”

He grins, sharp little fangs glinting, and you don’t like the effects it’s having on your body, or your mind. You can barely take a breath. “You’re actually so funny, holy shit.”

“You don’t really know me. Aside from work.”

“You never take me up on any of those offers of coffee, or grabbing a bite, all you do is work Missy. All work, no play, makes a sad girl.” He taps your nose, and it scrunches up, making him smile a bit. “Cute.”

“Whatever, I have to work my ass off, it’s important, I have to make sure I get to scrub in with you. That chance comes at the end of this month.”

“Well you’re the top intern I have, so don’t worry so much.” He pats your shoulder, and you blink a bit. “Surprised? How. You graduated top of the school, you bust your cute little butt, and you’re intelligent, caring for your patients. Of course I was picking you first.”

“Oh my god…”

“You’ve ruined your own surprise. Act surprised when you find out, mmkay?” You hug him then, heart racing as you think of it. “Oh so now you like me.”

“I can really scrub in to a surgery with you!?” You couldn't contain your excitement as you leaned back and looked up at Satoru Gojo. He nodded, his hands taking hold of your waist through your scrubs, and that touch?

Does things, fuck.

“I’m so sorry-”

“You’re fine, intern. Stay a little longer.” You nervously step back, his hands are still on your waist, making you tremble, as your eyes both lock.

“I can never fuck such an opportunity up. Um… thank you though, that gives me so much hope, maybe I can actually relax for two minutes!” He smiles softly, nodding, his hands falling to his sides. “I’m sorry I…”

“Interrupted? Nah. Think you made me cum quick.”

“What!?” You glare again, and his smirk makes you itch to smack him all over again. “Dr. Gojo!”

“You’re so pretty though, I think it made her job quicker. Win win.”

“I’m out of here. Ugh.” You turn away, hand on the knob, and then his comes on top of it and gently unlocks it with a twist, you feel his hard body against your back, and you get overwhelmed in his office, damn near unable to breathe, as he’s clearly…

Is Dr. Gojo inhaling your hair!?

“New shampoo?” He asks, you turn to glare up at him, putting your faces far, far too close.

“How would you know my…”

“You always wear that one that smells like strawberries, this one is more floral. Hmm I don’t know if I like it as much, but it’s still yummy.”

“I… you…”

“See you later, intern.” He says softly, then finally steps away, leaving you reeling as you hastily step out without a word, leaning your back against his door, shutting your eyes for a moment in the quiet hall his office is in. You shake yourself out of it quickly, he’s just being…

Dr. Hojo.

Notorious womanizer, but the best damn surgeon there was, a whole idiot and yet an entire genius. And not your type, not at all, even if he’s gorgeous, you did not like man whores, or men that aren’t serious, especially not your boss, anyway. Fucking your boss in this industry would essentially make everyone question every accomplishment as favoriteism.

You sure weren’t going to sacrifice all your hard work for some dick.

You bounce away, heading to the little cafe where your friends are waiting, sitting next to Yuta who hands you a coffee with a little smile. “Thank you, ugh.”

“You’re welcome, girlie.”

“So, party?”

“Maki!” You three say, and she sighs, shooting her espresso down.

“Next weekend! Come on you guys, what do you say?”

“Oh fine.” You concede. Maki, Yuta and Toge all live with you, in your town home, since you could absolutely not afford it yourself, with the shitty pay of your internship and the college bills. It was left to you, but you still had property taxes and other bills, so they helped a ton. “No one better fuck my house up, I swear.”

“Hell yeah, here’s to a party bitches.” She holds up her little styrofoam cup, and you all cheers each other then, laughing.

“Party, hmm?” Comes Dr. Gojo’s voice, he’s standing there with Dr. Geto and Dr. Nanami. You all get nervous then, but he grins. “I’m coming. What about you guys?”

“No way.” Nanami grumbles, he’s very serious, his glasses slung over his sandy blond hair, his face exhausted.

“I’ll come.” Dr. Geto chimes in, chuckling and sipping his coffee, he’s as tall as Dr. Gojo and well swoon worthy. He would be more your type you think, with that serious yet fun nature, whereas Dr. Gojo…

“C’mon Nanami. You gotta, you gotta, you-”

“Jesus you’re a child.” You say, and Gojo gasps at you, Geto and even Nanami laugh, only earning Gojo’s scowl.

“You brat, I’m a good eight years older than you!”

“You look like a twenty year old frat boy.”

"And you look like an angry little brat!” He shot back, only causing more laughter to erupt from the group.

“Okay, okay.” Dr. Geto holds up his hands now. “Let’s be nice, kids.”

“Kids! Suguru I’m older than you.” Gojo says with a glare.

“Like six months. Anyway, we’ll be there at this party, text us the details? We’d love to unwind.” Dr. Geto says, and Maki jumps up now, as you and Gojo are glaring at each other across your table. “Got it, thank you Maki.”

“Of course, we’ll invite both of your interns too. It’ll be much needed after hell month.” You just sit there, as they all talk, and Gojo is all pouty, like a baby. You peek at your phone now, seeing a text from your shitty ex, your face falls.

“Everything okay?” Maki asks softly, and you sigh, nodding.

“Just the ex.” You whisper back.

“Ex huh?” Satoru has somehow gotten behind you, leaning over, you smack at his hand then, glaring. “What, I wanna know!”

“You’re too fucking much sometimes. Ugh.” You stand up then, slinking past him. “I’m headed to get changed and then I’m leaving. See you all at home?” They all nod, eyeing you and Satoru curiously, you wave at the Doctors then head out.

Ugh, along with Satoru just being… weird and annoying, and your ex? He was a toxic, needy mess. He’d left you because you didn’t have enough time for him, and maybe you really didn’t, how could you have a relationship until your internship was finished? The first week none of you even left the hospital, sleeping in bunk beds and showering there.

But he constantly needed you, made you feel guilty, would fuck with your alarms and everything. Thank God he was long gone, even if he was annoying you currently, you delete his messages, heading to the locker room and hearing steps. You look back curiously to see Satoru holding the door open for you.

“What are you doing?”

“I am sorry, that was rude of me.”

“Yeah, well, what’s new.” You both walk into the locker room now, Satoru’s shrugging off his white lab coat, your cheeks heat up while you slip off your scrub top, it was normal to change in front of everyone, you all had co op locker rooms and showers even, all of you took years of anatomy, the human body was nothing really but parts.

But as you feel his eyes on you, when you’re down to just a black lace bra and a pair of boy shorts, you tense a bit, looking at him, shirtless, his lips parted as he looks at you. “I am sorry I know I annoy you, Miss perfect.”

“I’m no Miss perfect. I guess I have a lot to prove.” You say softly, trying not to drink in his rippling muscles, perfect well defined torso, cuts low where he’s now sliding up a pair of dark blue jeans.

His blue eyes fixate on you as he does, as you’re sliding on a pair of jeans yourself, buttoning them with trembling hands. “I had a lot to prove once too. I do understand.”

“You’re being serious?” You tease, earning a little smile, as he slides a black long sleeve shirt over his head. You get flustered as you realize your nipples are pressed against the cups of your bra, sliding your shirt and then a jacket on yourself, sitting at the bench to slide on your black boots.

“I can be serious sometimes, I just think there’s enough death, sadness, and depression in this career. Why not just try to have some fun? Otherwise, it’ll just consume you.” He says softly, in that husky voice of his, so sexy it alone could wreck someone. But his words…

“That makes sense.” You say softly now, standing as he does, grabbing your purse and locking up your locker, spinning the combination, at the same time he grabs his keys and wallet. “So you try to… brighten up things.”

“Yeah, someone has to.” He walks to you then, tapping your nose once more. “You’re too serious, you’ll have to lighten up, or this career will wreck you.”

You nod then, carefully, realizing perhaps this slutty, silly doctor had a lot more to him, than just being the perfect surgeon. “I’ll take that advice. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, also…” He leans forward as you all are stepping out of the locker room, headed toward the automatic glass doors, and you look at him curiously. “Nice panties.”

“Oh fuck you, Dr. Hojo!” You glare now, shoving at him, as he heads to his mercedes benz, and you’re in your ancient SUV that sounds like a beast.

“Night-night, intern.” He shoots you two fingers, sliding into his fancy car with blacked out windows. You roll your eyes, putting your car in gear.

What a day.

Part Two

[beardysuits]

Bulking Up pt 1

Ian, just the sight of him inspired conflicting emotions ranging from rage, to jealousy, to desire, to lust. Ian was the pretty boy of the office and the boss's favorite. He could literally do no wrong, and yet, I was probably the only one who knew what he was really like. See Ian and I went to college together and even participated in the same internship program. He and I also had to share the same job duties, schedule, and workload. Only Ian decided his time wasn't worth the work and decided it was up to me to do the work for both of us. Obviously initially I told him absolutely no way, but that all changed when he got some dirt on me.

Mr. Galveston was head of the law firm Ian and I worked at and if we were tasked with naming the first three words which came to mind when we though of him, it would be intimidating, big, and daddy. Despite running an entire firm and raising three kids, Mr. Galveston still seemed to have the time to run every morning and lift weights. It helped too that he was graced with the hairline of a 20-year old and the skin I'm sure he had to perform a ritual sacrifice to obtain. As you can imagine, I had spent many late nights fantasizing about him, he was prime spank bank material! Unfortunately those late nights alone were not enough for me and my stupid horny brain.

I may have definitely broken some HR guidelines. One day we had a meeting where Mr. Galveston had praised my latest work and it ended with a "good job son". My cock immediately got hard and I had to adjust myself as discreetly as possible. As soon as the meeting concluded, I had to excuse myself and run to the bathroom to pump one out. What I didn't realize is that Ian had followed me, peaked over the stall door and snapped a photo of me, hand gripping my cock and cumming all over the toilet bowl.

"Say cheese," he said to me. The cheeky bastard. I begged Ian not to tell anybody what I had done and he agreed, for a price. So, that was how I got stuck working later and later hours to get the work done for both of us, while Ian sat on his ass all day flirting with our female colleagues. And the worst part about it? If Ian in some weird twist of character told me to get on my knees and blow him, I would still say yes in a heartbeat. I mean, he was built like a god. 6 pack, veiny arms, pecs like an olympian. He was a fucking model and he knew it. Meanwhile there was me, pudgy, couldn't grow a beard to save my life, and just short enough for him to call me munchkin as he held his hand out for his work. I hated his guts.

It was a typical Tuesday night at the office and I had ordered myself a pizza, which I ate at my desk while wrapping up my work and about to start Ian's. I glanced at the clock. 6 PM. I should have been able to leave an hour ago, but got held up doing some data entry Ian was tasked with at noon. Now I still had a stack of papers for him to get started on. There was a rap of knuckles at front of my desk. I looked up to find Tabitha, the office kook. She was a nice enough woman, but she certainly didn't have too many people speak with her for a reason.

"Marty, what are you doing here so late?" she asked me. I swallowed my latest bite and cleared my throat.

"Just need to finish some things here and I'll be heading out. What about you?" I asked her. She sighed and twirled the medallion she always wore around her neck.

"Catching up from my vacation. Being gone a week lets things pile up. Oh, but what I wouldn't do to return to Europe in a second..." she droned on and on about her trip, which I had heard about three times already. But, she was also one of the few people to be genuinely kind to me, so I let her ramble while I set Ian's work aside.

"Oh and goodness! I almost forgot! How could I?" he said, startling me awake after I had zoned out. She pulled her purse forward and fished around in it before holding her closed hand out to me.

"I found this little beauty while I was out there. There's a small village out in the countryside which is said to be the ancient home of witches. I saw this and just thought of you," she said. She opened up her hand, and in her palm was... a rock.

It was a pretty rock, don't get me wrong. It shone and had shimmers of jade green crackling along it's flat surface. But again, it was a rock.

"Oh wow Tabitha that's... beautiful," I told her. She nodded, took my hand, and placed the rock in my palm.

"It's said to be a wishing stone. You hold it close to your heart, wish your deepest desire to it, and place it under your pillow. It's said those who are truly worth of their wish will have it come true."

I twirled the rock around in my hand before setting it on the desk.

"Thank you Tabitha, that's very sweet of you," I told her. I really was touched she thought so nicely of me.

"Well, make sure you have that wish be a good one. Maybe even get you out of here a little earlier next time," she said with a wink. "I have to go home to the cats though, you find your way out of here soon, okay?"

I waved her off as she went the door. I got back to Ian's paperwork, but found it hard to concentrate. The stone kept catching my attention. It was like it caught the light at every angle and shone its shimmering green gaze back at me. About an hour later, I gave up and left Ian's work half done.

Once I was home, I slumped on the couch and turned on some TV. I couldn't even focus on the most mindless of shows though. Every thought came back to the stone. I fished it out of my pocket and turned it through my fingers. Wish on the stone and it would come true, yeah right....

I could see my reflection in the window next to the couch and sighed. My glasses were askew and somehow I didn't notice. I adjusted them and saw a pudgy little geek, still in his work suit, too tired to even take it off. I pushed at my belly, which for the past few weeks kept pushing harder and hard to get out of this tight button down shirt. Sighing, I looked at the stone. Why not?

I wish... I wish I could have what Ian has.

Of course that's where my mind went. Ian had it all. Looks, charm, and now a little nerd doing all of his work for him. My eyes became incredibly heavy and it was like I got hit with a tranquilizer. No surprise, working late hours had become the norm. My hand slumped behind the couch cushion and not a second later, I slumped off to sleep.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The ringing of my phone fluttered my eyes open. I grumbled trying to find it in the depths of the couch cushions. Eventually I found it stuck deep in the back. I held it up and turned off my alarm I had set. 6 am, perfect time to be awake. I tried to open my phone through half closed eyes. It had facial recognition, but the stupid thing couldn't catch on to my face. I retired a few times before it prompted me to put in the passcode. I fumbled with it some before finally getting in, and going over some emails. I stumbled off the couch and shuffled to the bathroom.

I had to find some Tylenol, I had a killer headache. I was just about to reach the bathroom when I felt something catch on my feet and force me down. I crashed to the ground and groaned. Fuck... what the fuck even happened? I turned around and saw my pants around my ankles. Or... wait what? I could see down my legs, which were half the size in girth, but twice the size in length. That's... a trick of the morning grog right?

I turned myself around to sit on the ground and looked my legs up and down. They were hairier than before, and the skin was taut with muscles spreading across the curvature of my calves. Holy shit what the fuck was going on? I panicked standing up, kicking off my pants in the process. Rushing to the bathroom, I threw the lights on and was met with Ian in the reflection!

Holy fuck!

I grabbed at my cheeks and pulled at them, which Ian mirrored perfectly in the reflection. Grabbing at my chest through the now oversized shirt, I patted myself, feeling a rock-hard torso in return. I gripped at the button and ripped it open, sending the buttons flying across the bathroom floor. I was met with Ian's muscles greeting me. Tracing my (Ian's?) fingers over them, I felt a shiver run down my spine. Oh my god, I was Ian! Almost instinctively, my fingers rubbed over his nipples and I could feel the same shiver race down my body.

I looked down and found Ian's cock flopping, not even attempting to be contained my XXL underwear that was at least three sizes too big now. My hand was trembling as I slipped the boxers down and found his veiny cock fly almost wildly.

It had just as many veins as his arms did and was almost as thick as them it felt like. I took my new hands and gripped the shaft, it felt so natural to be holding on to it. Even a couple of strokes in and I found out that Ian was quick to precum. My new cock was instantly lathered up as I slicked it back and forth, each pump making his cock feel even girthier somehow.

I laid one of his hands down on the bathroom counter and looked at myself. Ian was hunched over, stroking his cock and smiling mischievously at me.

"Oh fuck daddy, that feels so good," I said without even thinking. "Ohhhh... FUCK Mr. Galveston, pound my tight hole!" I yelled. I thrusted myself back and forth, fantasizing about my boss bucking my hips as he plowed his thick daddy dick deep into Ian.

"Harder! Faster! That's right sir, breed meeeeee," I begged. I bit my lip and made Ian look back at my pathetically. Oh if I could only get Mr. Galveston to ACTUALLY fuck my new hole, make me his little bitch. I pumped harder and harder, fucking my new hand. I could feel the cum build until eventually climax hit.

I let go of my cock and moaned as loud as I could, feeling Ian's cock spray his delicious cum all over the bathroom. It was like a fire hose was set loose, letting streams spray around the room. Each bit hit harder than the last. Eventually I was left standing in the bathroom, breathing heavily and watching as Ian tried to stand up straight after spraying his essence everywhere.

Once I got control of myself again, I peered into the mirror and saw through the drips of cum, Ian's face elated. I couldn't help but smile at my new face and body, now ready to take on the world. I stuck my tongue out and lapped at the cum which was beginning to run down the mirror's face. It tasted so fucking good, like pure masculinity was captured in a liquid state.

Watching Ian become my little lap dog at my bidding made me horny all over again. This was just me going solo, wait until I use my phone to download Grindr and see what fresh pieces of meat want a slice of Ian! Speaking of my phone, it started to rumble on the counter. I picked it up and my heart sank, it was Ian. I cleared my throat, trying to emulate my old voice before answering.

"Uhh.. he-hello?" I choked out.

"What did you do you son of a bitch?!" Pierced through the other line. I coughed again.

"Ian? What's going on?" I asked.

"Like you don't fucking know! What do you look like right now? Who the fuck are you?!"

I recognized the voice, it was mine! Oh shit, I didn't just become Ian, we swapped!

"Ian, I gotta come clean, I'm you," I told him. What was the point in hiding it?

"What. Did. You. DO!?" He screeched. Damn, was my voice always that high pitched? It was whiny and pathetic.

"First off, I didn't do anything! I just woke up and found myself like this. Secondly, calm down, we'll figure this out. Just... just get dressed and get to the office. We'll figure it out there, we need to act normal," I told him.

"Oh yeah fucking right! What the fuck am I supposed to wear? All I have here are my clothes and your fat fuck of a body sure as shit isn't going to fit in them!"

"I'm sure you'll figure it out," I said. "Listen, the sooner you get there, the sooner we figure this out. Better get dressed munchkin." Calling me by my old nickname felt empowering in some way. Before he could retaliate, I hung up the phone on him. Looking at myself back in the mirror and grinned back.

"Yeah, like I'd ever give this up," I said. But, I should probably get dressed and meet up with him. Looks like it's going to be a fun day. Now, let's see if I can find anything tight enough to show off this body.

[chaithetics]

Desperate to Please

Pairing: Kendall Roy x f (afab) reader Part 2 (To Sit in Hell with You) Word count: 4.3K Warning: 18+ MDNI interact, my attempt at sexual tension, smut, language warning, a couple of references to canonical-esque drug use and toxic Roy family dynamics, bit of angst I guess? Not proof-read and run on sentences. Reader has no physical descriptions, it's you! A/N: HAPPY SUCCESSION SUNDAY! I hope you all enjoy this Kendall brainrot, I was a bit scared as this was my first time writing a Kendall fic, I'd only written him in Stewy x Roy reader fics before. I hope you all enjoy this! Big thank you to @waystarkia and @maraschinodreamo for enabling this! You're amazing besties, I adore you and I needed your support, big forehead kisses! Comments and reblogs are appreciated 🫶 My last few fics have been big flops so extra nervous!

You remember when he glided through the corridors of Harvard. How every party you went to and that you had a pit of dread in your stomach over as it could’ve been three hours devoted to rereading the assigned readings and going over your notes. He was there, always there, laughing with a giggling, intimate crowd and snorting powdered lines off any and every surface. 

It gave you a bitter, metallic taste in your mouth. How easy it was for him, how even when he flew too close to the sun there were always a million doors open for him, you couldn’t help but feel envious of that. 

When you needed to maintain a certain GPA for your scholarships, had to wear sweaters down to the last thread, keep up with the readings, the extracurriculars, any internships, anything and everything to get your foot in the door. It was miserable and intense. 

While there was something alluring in how much of a window to his soul those brown eyes were, you didn’t have time to look in them long enough to see a world of emotional turmoil and toxic family dynamics. 

He didn’t say much about his family, ever. And when he did, it was dismissive, deflective, perfectly media trained, he’d speak just like a politician he’d deflect the question and never satisfy the questioner. To the point that if you were in a bad mood, you’d wonder if even his pauses of ‘uh’ and ‘like’ were calculated. 

There was a collection of the finest, custom-tailored suits with his killer initials monogrammed, just waiting for him to slip them on. You weren’t old money and you definitely weren’t new money, your academic and professional career had been a never ending fight just to get a seat at the table. You couldn’t stand it, you would bite your tongue whenever you became nauseated from being in a room too long that reeked of the nepotism cologne they all assaulted your senses with. It was a slap against your face.

If he wasn’t so entitled, when you first met him you might’ve swooned over him, you would’ve swooned over him. Without a doubt. It just wasn’t a fun thing to admit to yourself, not back then and not now. 

You’d climbed a ladder, working hard, offering a polite but intelligent demeanour with a meticulous academic record and a work ethic that gave capitalism a boner. It had all led to a pretty sweet (enormously stressful) gig at Pierce Global Media. It made sense, you’d spend your college days side-eyeing him whenever he spoke or did anything at a party, racing a race he didn’t even know he was running in. Of course you’d end up working at his family’s competition. The politics of PGM also made it a lot easier to sleep at night, you could never imagine working at Waystar, ATN made you gag. 

You had a nice wardrobe and the bank account to prove ‘success’, you might've been petty but you still felt resentment over him, even if the trajectory of his life wasn't so smooth. But you were too busy to keep track of the countless edits on his Wikipedia page. He probably had assistants continuously rectify them.  

You didn't spare a thought to Kendall Roy or the suits walking in and out of country clubs. Except for when he was name dropped in PGM articles and broadcasts. That was all he was worth. It was all you’d allow him to be worth in your post-college, shiny grown up lives. 

And of course at moments like right now, when you’re on the clock and have to smile through the torture of corporate events like the heavily photographed and stressful galas and award shows. Fundraisers that are an excuse for sealing secret deals, getting wasted and showing off who was able to get the finest threads. 

Kendall was present of course, playing his usual role of the charming dancing monkey barely maintaining his father’s approval. 

He stood across the room, wearing a dark suit, freshly shaven while holding a thin, fragile glass in his hand. Kendall smiled as he mingled and networked like the trained pup he was, it was his party trick after a lifetime of these endless events and shallow faces. 

You went to bite your lip as you looked at him while a PGM comms employee spoke to you. It was only the thought of messing up your lipstick that stopped you. 

Kendall Roy was hot though, despite everything you’d have to give him that at the least. Begrudgingly. 

After going to the restroom and making sure you still looked perfectly presentable, you couldn’t help but still feel out of place at these events. No matter how much you climbed up the ladder, it was a severe case of imposter syndrome. 

You’d come out of the restroom and almost bumped into Kendall. “Oh shit!” You said, gasping as you placed a hand on your chest. 

He placed a hand on your arm to steady you, as if you were at risk of falling over. His touch burned you and it sent a shiver up your spine. “You okay?” He asked as his eyes raked over you, checking you were okay and then slowly taking in the view from head to toe. “Yeah, yeah, just gave me a fright. Sorry.” You respond, meeting his eyes as he looks back at your face. 

His hand is still on your arm, you can feel the heat of it radiating through to the rest of your body, and it is doing something to the most sensitive parts of you. 

You move slightly so that his hand falls down and he quickly returns it to his side and you pretend to adjust your dress as if you hadn’t been doing that two minutes ago in the bathroom. You try to avoid his eyes as you do this, you don’t want him to get the chance to see how that touch made you feel, the idea of it makes you feel sick to your stomach. “I didn’t expect to see you here, thought you’d be worried about some uh, kitchen cross-contamination.” He says as his eyes focus on your face. “I am, there’s a bottle of Purell in my purse and I have a bathtub filled with disinfectant waiting for me at home.” You quip back. 

“Uh huh, so pick your poison? Buried alive or in a conversation with a scary billionaire.” He raises an eyebrow as a slightly smug smile starts to grace his handsome face. 

“Buried alive.” You look into his eyes, and you almost want to melt with how he’s looking at you, as if he can read your mind and see everything. Giving you his full attention. “Worms would be easier company.” Kendall’s head tips down for a moment and he nods while chuckling, it’s a dry sound and you fight the urge to pick at your nails as you watch him chuckle. “Sure, sure, sure. I mean you did say easier instead of like, better. So my ego’s not completely bruised.” He says with a smirk as he looks down at his shoes. 

“I hear verbal punches aren’t doing it these days.” You say as you watch him, his gaze leaves the floor as it combs through you again, taking in your appearance appreciatively and a glint of something else burns in his eyes for a moment. “There’s other ways to impact an ego. I know you can do more than bruise it.” He says quietly in a low voice made just for your ears. 

You almost freeze at that, you can feel it run through your whole body, shooting through your spine and the air you’d just inhaled feels trapped. Screaming for a way out. You exhale slowly, avoiding his gaze as your eyes latch onto a waiter and you politely stop him as you take a tall glass off of the platter he’s holding. The taste is a sensory respite from Kendall's existence and you focus on that as you take a sip and hold the glass for dear life. 

“What? I drive you, speechless?” He teases as he watches you with a smirk, there’s a slight flush on his cheeks. 

“I’d disagree.” You whisper looking back at him finally, feeling a little more composed despite your heart still beating faster than a rabbit. 

“You’re not chatty for an old Harvard friend, never have been.” He says as if this observation is something new and fascinating. 

“An old Harvard friend? My invitation to the boys club seemed to have been lost in the mail, quite a delay, you might want to change your postal provider.” You quickly retort and sip your drink. 

“Have you always felt the need to be so…” He waves his hand slightly as if that’ll perfectly communicate whatever adjective he means. You raise an eyebrow at him. “Well I seem to leave a bitter taste in your mouth.” 

“You don’t leave anything in my mouth, you’re not even an afterthought on a good day.” You say, he smiles and takes a sip from his glass. 

“You’re breaking my heart here!” He says playfully, melodramatically and his smile grows into a wolfish grin. “Because there’s definitely an attraction here.” 

“Excuse me?” Your voice goes up in exasperation at the audacity of the man standing in front of you. Sure he might be right, of course you’re attracted to him… How could you not be? When that suit perfectly fits his physique and he’s trying to disarm you with his stupid words and cocky smiles. 

“Come on, it’s fucking uh, nuclear- it’s nuclear! All this energy and potentially more sustainable for- you catch my drift. I feel it, you feel it. And I’m the goddamn man and I can see that facade falling, crumbling away like ancient ruins for something better.” He says confidently and somewhat excitedly. 

“I don’t feel it.” You lie. 

He scoffs, chuckling and looks at you, he licks his lips for a moment and you almost let out a soft moan at the sight of that, barely able to suppress it and you want to scream at yourself. You’re crumbling. 

“Sure, sure, can’t bed the big bad wolf on the screaming populist side, wouldn’t look clean cut, would it?” He asks and you just look at him, you try to keep your face steely and not show a glimpse of anything else. “Sure fine, I’ll fucking play ball, baby.” 

“It’s corporate.” He says with a casual shrug as if that answers whatever conundrum he thinks you’re possibly in that you don’t want to enlighten him on. “So, come on, I’ll uh, strip down to my Waystar Royco ™ skivvies, show you a gilded skeleton in my closet and you can like uh, take me to the glue factory and show me a horse that’s been sold and how the horse gets melted, sausage gets made.” He tilts his head to look at you, a playful smile as he looks at your soft lips. 

“There’s legislation- regulations against that now. I know it might be a new word for you but you should have your assistant look it up for you.” You say with a sigh and look down at your glass, avoiding the glint of an awkward charm in his eyes. 

“I’m a good guy, I’m not 100% whatever the fuck you’ve painted me out to be, I don’t get a hard on out of systemic oppression.” He says casually as he looks at your face, analysing each blink, he must’ve stepped closer, you swear you can feel his breath against you as he speaks. 

“It benefits you at the least.” You whisper. 

“Yeah, it does. But I didn’t make the system.” He whispers back and you can’t help but bite the corner of your lip as the breath from his words tickles your cheek. “I made a very generous donation to gynaecological cancer last month.” He says playfully and you can’t help but scoff at that, he smiles widely at your scoff, pleased with your reaction. 

“I’m aware, it was reported on, by PGM as well.” You tease and he smiles. 

“I’m something of a philanthropist myself.” He chuckles proudly. “So?” 

“So?” You ask looking at him, taking in the way he holds his glass, the arch of his dark eyebrows and every line on his face. “That’s your stage direction to start uh swooning and like fawning and fainting into my arms.” 

“Do those lines work usually?” You ask with a tone of disbelief. 

“I’m Kendall Roy, I don’t need lines.” He immediately quips back with a cocky tone. 

“Doesn’t use lines, right… I didn’t realise Kendall Roy ever needed to beg.” You watch his finger trace the rim of the glass in his hand. There’s something about it, it entrances you and you feel your cheeks heat up like he’s just started a fire. 

“Trust me, you’d know if I was begging.” He says as that signature slight smile turns into a confident smirk. “And we’re not there, yet.” 

It feels dangerous and your muscles tense as you look at him, his dark eyes have a playful glint that sends a shiver up your spine. You feel your hand grip the glass much tighter, as if you’re moments away from cracking it. 

“Come on, I’m a hot shot- in fact, the hot shot, and you’re uh, Botticelli’s Venus here-” he tilts his head down and waves his hand slightly. “Dressed to the nines and all.” 

“Mm, going above and beyond, not just numbers and stock value, you know art too.” 

“Oh yeah, I can uh name it all, namedrop beyond DaVinci, I can rattle off about uh, Mondrian with his little lines,  you’ve probably got what? A Pollock in your apartment, to what? Feels a little spontaneous when you clock off? Classy and cute Hilma af Klint?” He asks with a raised eyebrow and sips his drink as his eyes bore into your soul. 

You tilt your head to look at him, watching him as he sips from that flute. There’s cockiness there and under other circumstances, you’d be disappointed in yourself for how quickly that melts away any hesitancies you have. He knows what he’s doing and you know what you’re going to do. You’re both nocturnal moths, feeling alive and awake this evening, craving something more. Needing something more. Two moths drawn to the exact flame. 

You’re in his penthouse, his stupid fancy penthouse that would make child you scream if you knew how much this place cost. You don’t care about that right now, right now you’re a pot on a stove simmering with years, years, worth of need for him and it’s about to overflow and spill. 

As soon as you’re inside he pounces on you, he’s eager and his body is agile and he moves like a feline. Quickly pawing you to get what he needs. What you both need. You don’t bother to try and repress any of your noises and neither does he. 

You put your hands up to his head to lightly scratch his scalp, he buries his head against your throat and groans out as you do and you feel his wet lips press hungrily against your throat. He sucks against your skin and you whine out as he keeps kissing, feeling your sensitive skin in his journey to not leave an inch of skin untouched. 

Kendall guides you to the sofa as he does this, he does it with surprising ease as he keeps listening to the beautiful music of his wet kisses against you and your sweet moans. Kendall gently but firmly pushes you down onto the sofa and you let out a gasp as he does. 

Once you're seated and sprawled out for him like a personal masterpiece, he pushes the hem of the skirt of your dress up to your hips, Kendall immediately drops to his knees in front of you, ready in position to worship you as you deserve. Kendall spreads your legs with a swift motion and groans as he positions himself, knelt down between your thighs. Ken breathes heavily and slowly, completely mesmerised and his heart beats louder than thunder in his ears. God, he needs this. God, he needs you. So fucking badly.

His hand touches your knee and runs up your thigh, his eyes are wide as he looks at your body reverently, lust sparks in his eyes. His thumb starts to brush against your inner thigh gently and you sharply inhale as you watch him. 

“I know what you think and I… I get it,” he breathes out heavily as he looks up at you with lust-blown but genuine big, wide eyes and you feel your own breath become more shaky as you look down at him. “It wasn’t all fucking sunshine and lollipops and feeding fucking ducks bread in the park, you know?” He says looking up at you. 

Fingers grip your thighs tighter at that bringing out a sharp gasp, fear over the implication of his confession even with how vague it is, the lack of explicit over the pressure, the verbal and emotional abuse he endured as a defenceless child while board members watched and said nothing. How all the adults he knew would either laugh awkwardly or go quiet, dismissive, when Roman was hit. How he watched it all, saw things even Shiv and Roman don’t remember. Things he can’t speak or begin to imagine saying. 

“He’s this boogeyman legend, the GOAT of media but a fucking mythical ghoul in all of our rooms.” He whispers, desperate for some external validation, you nod and caress his hair slowly, taking in his words patiently as he speaks. “It was this psychological prison, each mansion, penthouse, five star emotional abuse, make fucking Gordon Ramsay cry, one that everyone wanted to walk into and not comprehend the uh, consequences.” 

You just nod and listen, you’re not sure what to say, especially what to say to his words in this situation. But there’s a change in his eyes that he sees. He feels safe here, he feels safe and seen as he kneels and worships at the altar of his deity of beauty. 

His fingers apply more pressure as he touches your thighs, he needs you, he knows in his brain and his heart that you’re what will make him feel better right now. Every muscle, organ and bone knows it, especially the one growing and hardening in his pants right now. The feeling of his fingers tickle and you watch him lazily, his touch feels good and there’s something about him doing it, the way he looks at you, like your some masterpiece that should be front and centre of the Louvre. 

Kendall presses a kiss to your thigh, you let out a shaky breath you didn’t realise you were holding in as you feel his warm breath against your sensitive skin. You close your eyes and take a deep breath as he quickly runs a trail of kisses up your thigh before getting to your core. 

He immediately presses his face against your core, your eyes widen as you feel him, you feel his mouth on you even with the fabric of your underwear creating a barrier between you two. It’s a new feeling as you feel him kiss and then lick your sweet pussy through your panties. They quickly become wet with his tongue frantically moving and your arousal leaking out. 

A soft whimper leaves your mouth at the feeling, the friction and how good his mouth feels even with that barrier. He keeps moving at that frantic pace, his left hand grips your thigh, keeping it pinned to the couch and massaging the soft flesh while his other slowly snakes up your body so he can squeeze your breast and pull out another delicious whimper. 

The sounds you’re making makes him harder and he groans against you, the vibration of that makes you throw your head back and whimper again. You need more. It’s so hot to have him in this way, to have him so desperate for you he’ll try to lap you up through your panties but you need to properly feel him. You try to buck your hips up to get him closer, you need him. 

He continues and groans at that, he shakes his head against you and swirls his sweet tongue around and you cry out. 

“I need- Ken, Ken! Please!” You cry out needily. “I can already taste how sweet you are through your soaked panties, baby.” He whispers as he pulls back slightly. 

“Take them off…” You whisper as you look into his lust-blown eyes, they’re just as needy if not more than yours. 

He immediately takes them off and you whine out as he does, his hands are quick and efficient. Before you can even blink Kendall has dived right back in, determined to taste you right from the source with nothing in his way. 

Ken’s wanted this for so long, he’s needed it for so long. 

Kendall doesn’t worry about trying to warm you up, it’s not even a thought that crosses his mind. His mouth runs along your folds, and before you know it he’s pressed his face to you even more and he starts to lap you up. His eyes roll back and he closes them, whining against you as he laps up your fluids and uses his tongue to send you to heaven. 

His vibrations make you bite your lip and you buck your hips up again, one arm stretched out to the armrest of the sofa and you claw it mercilessly, just as he laps you up. Kendall then tilts his head slightly and groans, he lightly presses his nose against your sensitive bundle of nerves and you cry out, the loudest you ever have. 

Your eyes widen and you look down at him as you moan loudly and he continues. He keeps licking you up and moving his nose against you. While you’re clawing the armrest, your back arches and you try to press yourself more into his touch needing more, it’s insanely and perfectly wanton. Moving your freehand into his short dark hair, you tug on it. You barely need to tug it to guide him as he moves perfectly and is giving you the greatest pleasure you’ve ever felt before. 

Kendall continues, drowning in your juices and making sure not a single drop is wasted. He’s tasted it now and it’s amazing, life changing, how could he sit before you and waste a drop? He savours your scent and taste as tongue licks you and his nose keeps moving and applying the perfect amount of pressure to your now throbbing clitoris. 

His movements are desperate and that of a starved man. You can see it, feel it and it’s what he is. He’s a starved man and you’re his perfect banquet. He continues, needing to make you orgasm. He’s drowning in you, his mouth and nose but he wouldn’t have it any other way. He takes a deep breath and his hand moves along your thigh, squeezing it and he grips your hip tightly. 

You’re getting closer and closer just from that clitoral stimulation and he can tell, he moves his face up so he can look at you. See how pleasure is painted across your face, he moves so his tongue laps up at your clitoris, swirling around it and making you shake and moan. Fuck, you look so pretty he thinks and you can’t help but think how good he looks like this, down on his knees in front of you, with his tongue buried between your legs. 

Kendall continues and you moan more. You’re not sure how long it’s been, he hasn’t been between your legs long enough, you know that for sure. You need him there longer but you know you’re just a flick of his tongue away from being pushed over the cliff and orgasming then and there. You tug on his hair and groan. 

“Goddamnit, I’m so close…” You whine out and bite your lip as your cheeks heat up more and he smiles against you, caressing your thigh and he continues licking. After the shortest five seconds in the world you pant and your back arches as you release. 

The taste is sweet and perfect, just as Kendall knew it would be. He groans against you, it turns him on so much. He continues to lap it up, just slower now, so he doesn’t overwhelm you too much and so he can savour each drop of your release. 

You moan as he continues, he keeps his face buried between your legs for a moment, caressing your thighs and when he can tell your breathing has recovered a little. He dives right back in. 

Making you come? That was something he needed to do. Only doing it once? That was pathetic. Kendall needed to hear those moans from you, to taste you, at least a few more times tonight. And that’s what he was going to do. 

Before you can utter a word, Kendall has already started to lap you up again desperately. He had something to prove after all, he always had something to prove. And if he could pull the sweetest noises out of you, the prettiest thing he's seen, who had despised him since college, what couldn't he do? What more approval could he be denied when you gripped his hair and bucked your hips up desperately searching for more pressure from his tongue. He had made himself right at home in this position, how couldn’t he?

[lesbiankimdahyun]

Summer Session

1K words

CW: None!

A/N: we are so back, baby <3 special appearance (in name only) made by SEVENTEEN’s Vernon!

[Sana x F!Reader] 

Requested: Yes

Your start to the summer was boring. You hated to admit it, but it was a little lonely without the rest of your classmates around in your college town. For the 65 members of your graduate school cohort, summer meant trying to fulfill mandatory internship requirements and putting in a few hundred hours of service in your soon-to-be field. You were lucky to get an internship in the city, avoiding the hassle of subletting and juggling double rent for the next three months. But staying put also meant you were separated from everyone else; your closest school friends were now scattered across the country, interning in other cities and less available now that you were all in different time zones. 

Desperate to be able to talk to someone face to face instead of over FaceTime, you downloaded Tinder. Finding a partner was of zero interest to you at the moment, but you figured if you went on enough awkward first dates, you’d meet someone who could stick as a friend. A lot of your current friendships had started out that way, anyway– as first and second dates that shifted into platonic relationships instead. You knew it was possible, you just had to put in a little effort. 

One warm Friday night in June, you prepared dinner for yourself eagerly, happy to be done interning for the week. Clearing some space for your plate on the coffee table, you sat down in front of your TV. Taking a sip of the chilled wine you’d poured, you hit play on a new drama series and settled in to watch and eat.

Your meal was delicious, but the pilot episode of the show wasn’t as good as you’d hoped. Part of the way through, you pulled out your phone and opened Tinder. Your eyes flicked back and forth between the television screen and the profiles of girls on your phone. You swiped halfheartedly for a while, but quickly lost interest in that, too. You were just about to grab your book and turn the TV off when you did a double take at the next profile Tinder brought up for you. 

You knew her.

It was a girl from your cohort: Sana. You sat up straight, nearly knocking your wine over as you blindly reached for it, eyes still taking in the pretty dark haired girl on your screen. You had always thought Sana seemed fruity, but since she never attended any of the queer student activities for your program and you’d never seen her at any of the gay clubs, you thought for sure you’d read her wrong. 

Taking a quick screenshot, you hurriedly took another sip of wine and quickly sent it to Chaeyoung, a close friend in your program. Within seconds, your phone was vibrating with her reply.

Chae 🍓: omg 

Chae 🍓: SANA?!?!?!?!?!

Chae 🍓: !!!!!!!!

Chae 🍓: i fucking knew it!!!!!

Chae 🍓: was it a match 👀

You hesitated for a moment, then went back to the app and swiped right before all of your courage left you. The app simply presented the profile of another girl after Sana’s disappeared. You chuckled to yourself, slightly embarrassed as you crafted a reply. No, you sent. Sorry to get your hopes up~ 

You hadn’t realized your own hopes had been up until Sunday night arrived and you noticed that  none of the matches you’d gotten on the app over the weekend were Sana. And when Chae texted you curiously about it on Monday, it was even more embarrassing to admit that you had nothing new to report. You decided to give up on having any hope at all the next day. It wasn’t like you and Sana were close, after all. You’d only ever hung out outside of class to work on occasional group projects with her. There was no reason at all to expect anything from her.  

But on Wednesday while you ate lunch alone on the outdoor deck of your internship office’s downtown headquarters, your phone vibrated. You sighed a little, setting down your sweating can of pop before grabbing your phone. You assumed it was a Slack message from a coworker at worst, and at best a text from Chaeyoung or another one of your friends. To your surprise, the two incoming texts you had just gotten were from a number you didn’t know. 

Unknown: hey, is this Y/N? 

Unknown: it’s Sana 😊

Your eyes went wide. How did she get your number? You were about to pull up your message conversation with Chaeyoung, but another text from Sana appeared. Your feeling of pleasant surprise changed to complete and utter horror. Sana had sent you a screenshot of your own Tinder profile. 

Maybe: Sana: saw you~ i didn’t know you were around for the summer! 

You locked your phone immediately and screamed silently, begging the earth to swallow you whole. It didn’t, so instead, you saved Sana’s number, then took a screenshot of the whole conversation and sent it to Chaeyoung with lightning speed. You had to, you thought, before you died of mortification. You gave Chae all of fifteen seconds before you then glanced at your watch and called her. 

“I was literally just about to call you,” Chaeyoung’s voice was bursting with excitement. “She totally wants you,” she teased, laughing. “Well?” 

You groaned. “I haven’t replied yet! And stop laughing, I might have to transfer to another program out of state because how EMBARRASSING this is.”

“Oh come on, this is a great segue!” Chaeyoung replied. “Tell her–” Chae’s voice cut out a little as your phone vibrated– another incoming text. You pulled your phone away from your ear and exhaled sharply. 

Sana: vernon gave me your #, i hope that’s cool. we should hang sometime! are you free this weekend? :]

“Y/N? Hello?” Chae’s voice seemed soft and distant as you stared at your screen. You hadn’t put Chaeyoung on speakerphone, but her waiting silence felt louder somehow. 

“She–” you cleared your throat a little as you processed everything and put your phone back up to your ear. “She just asked if I’m free this weekend.” 

[leafsbabe]

Justin Herbert - sparks fly (SMUT)

4.3k words, reader is described as not small height wise but the rest is hopefully vague enough

Coming to LA had been a spur of the moment decision but you never regretted it one bit.

You wanted an adventure and one of your friends needed an apartment sitter/somebody to take over their rent for a three month trip overseas so you packed a bag and headed to Hollywood. What you didn’t anticipate was falling in love with the city and so your illegal sublet turned into a small apartment of your own, your vacation into an unpaid internship into a paid internship into a job, and your adventure into a new home.

You didn’t live lavishly like the upper echelon but you could pay your rent, go to large outdoor flea markets on the weekend, and splurge on tacos from the taqueria at the corner while still putting away some money for savings so it was safe to say that life was going pretty damn great.

Justin and you bumped into each other on a hike. Or rather he bumped into you, causing you to stumble, fall, and skim your knee in the least sexy way possible… if there even was a sexy way to get hurt.

But Justin had been sweet, squatting down next to you and making sure you weren't seriously hurt before helping you up. You weren’t a short girl, never had been, but this handsome stranger towered over you in a way that made your thoughts run wild. You couldn’t help but look up at him while he helped you to the nearest bench. He sat down with you and you both drank from your water bottles side by side, sneaking glances at each other from the corners of your eyes.

He was the first to say something, his words stuck in your memory to this day. “Do I know you from somewhere? You look familiar.”

Later you would learn that this was supposed to be a pick-up line and the follow up would have been about him seeing you in his dreams but at that time you had just filmed a scene in a popular tv procedural as scared coffee shop visitor #4 (something you had told everyone back home and no one in LA, because it felt weird to talk about something like that here) so you just blurted that out.

Was it embarrassing? Yes. Did it lead to you two sitting there on that bench talking about shows until the sun started to set? Also yes.

Justin and you exchanged numbers and you even threw caution in the wind and let him walk you to your car, because pretty serial killers wouldn’t talk about the nuances of copaganda for hours and if they did you’d take you chances at knocking him out with your reusable water bottle even if he was over a head taller than you.

That night you sent each other a handful of messages. The next day he even called you after work like a total weirdo. The weekend after he took you to a restaurant in the hills and encouraged you to order something that wasn’t the cheapest salad on the menu because he was going to pay, like a gentleman. You shared a bottle of non-alcoholic sparkling grape juice. Him because he drove, you because you wanted that gorgeous man to absolutely rail you and thought any perceived inebriation might prevent that.

He didn’t fuck you but there was a prolonged make out session in his car where he felt up your tits, so you didn’t even feel bad getting yourself off with your trusty vibrator after he dropped you off at your apartment. 

Your second date took you outside again with a small hike followed by a picnic. He had packed all kinds of food because he wasn’t sure what you liked and had forgotten to ask. Justin laughed about panicking and buying half a store worth of snacks just so that you’d have something you like. It was so sweet.

He didn’t kiss you like he did after the first date, wild and like he had to hold himself back. 

No. His kisses were sweet, hands never wandering above your waist or below you hips. He did accept it when you invited him up to your place for a coffee though. Half a dirty iced chai latte later he had you pressed against your couch, his large hands dangerously close to your ass.

Yet he still didn’t fuck you.

“Next time,” he promised with his head buried in your throat, “after our third date I'll take you home and won’t let you leave my bed for the next three days.”

It was sweet, in a way, and you hadn’t had sex since before you moved to LA anyways so what difference would a few more days make.

“Okay. Tomorrow?” You didn’t even care that it sounded desperate.

“Can’t.” Justin groaned. “We’re leaving for an away game the day after tomorrow and I meant what I said about keeping you in my bed.” 

You felt his lips against your pulse as he spoke.

“When do you get back?”

“In four days.”

Fuck. Maybe a few more days did make a difference.

He kissed your neck again, grinding down and showing you just why the wait would be worth it. Hopefully you would remember to charge your vibrator. 

He took you to an arcade style place for your third date and it was an absolute blast. With so many options of games to try out you barely had time to look at everything. Justin was a gentleman the entire time, a pattern you noticed during your last two dates. Even though you’d worn a short skirt (and safety shorts because tall girls and mini skirts didn’t always get along) and cozied up to him all afternoon his hands remained off your ass and solidly in PG-13 areas.

You were having fun, challenging each other while laughing the entire time, but you were looking forward to the end of the date when you could finally go home with him. You could feel the vibe shift, growing needier as time went on, with Justin reflecting his own desires back at you.

When you accidentally touched a sticky surface and had to go to the bathroom to wash your hands you had the genius idea to take off the shorts and shove them to the bottom of your bag. 

And boy did that idea pay off.

Twenty minutes later you were in the front seat of his car as Justin drove the two of you back to his place with his right hand on your thigh inching higher and higher. He didn’t look at you as it slid under your skirt, eyes on the road, but the smirk on his lips made it clear to you that he knew what he was doing. He was so close to touching you where you needed him the most when the car stopped and he withdrew his hand as you groaned. 

“Patience.” He teased.

You climbed out of the car before he could help you out, downright eager now. By the time you reached his front door you could barely hold yourself back. All it took was a split second, the door closed behind you and Justin unceremoniously pressed you against it as his lips landed on yours. 

You’ve never been a small girl but the way you had to tilt your head to kiss Justin had a way of making you feel tiny. He bent down, lips never separating from yours, and just picked you up, hands under your skirt somewhere between your plush thighs and your ass. You moaned and he continued kissing you, fingers kneading against your soft skin as he turned around and started waking further into his apartment. God, you hoped his hands would leave bruises.

A noise interrupted you and when you looked to the side you saw a cat looking back at you from where it was perched on a cabinet. Justin didn’t follow your eyes, lip finding your neck instead. “That’s Nova.” He mumbled against your skin. “I’ll introduce you two later.” Then he sucked hard and you forgot everything except him. Somehow you made your way to his bedroom, something you only noticed after he let you fall back against the pillows.

With Justin standing at the edge of the bed looking down on you, you felt even smaller. He was breathing heavily, chest rising and falling, showing off his strong muscles. Oh, how you wanted them to hold you down as he took you.

You took off your shirt in one smooth motion, throwing it somewhere to the side of the bed and hoped that Justin wouldn’t mind. Judging by the way he was staring at your tits, he didn’t.

Justin soon followed your lead, stripping his clothes off as you watched. There was no denying that he was smoking hot, his body solid and you couldn't help but press your thighs together in the search of some relief.

“What do you need?”

Need. Not want. You had to take a moment to collect yourself. What did you need?

“I need you to fuck my mouth,” you started, “I need to choke on your dick until I cry and I need you to fuck me until I forget my name and can only scream yours.”

For a moment you worried that it would be too much. That it would be too rough for Justin or that you were too needy. But the look in his eyes showed you that he would give you everything you asked for. 

Justin stood in front of the bed, looking down at you while he stroked his dick. Precum gathered at his tip and a whimper left your lips at the sight. 

“You want it?” He asked, tone just mocking enough to make you close your legs harder, desperately looking for any kind of friction.

You nodded while looking up at Justin, moving on the bed to get closer to him. Finally you could almost taste him. The pink tip of his dick just barely touched your lips. 

“Please.” You begged for him to let you have it. 

“Be a good girl and show me you deserve it.” 

He gave it to you slowly. One hand holding his dick, the other cradling your cheek, as you took it.

Justin felt heavy in your mouth as you took more and more of him. He was big, yes, but you knew you would manage to swallow all of him. You looked up at him through your lashes until his muscles blocked the view and you could close your eyes, fully concentrating on making sure that Justin would give you everything you needed. 

Slowly you pushed yourself to your limit, fitting him into your throat until your lips wrapped around his base. Justin’s dick was a lot to take in and you didn’t know if you could take it should he try and fuck your throat but for a short moment —with him frozen in front of you— you managed to take all of him. 

You swallowed around him once, twice, and began to slowly pull back before Justin moved again.

“Fuck.” His voice was deep and low as the hand that had been cradling your cheek moved to now hold the back of your head instead.

You couldn’t help but moan around him, the vibrations around his dick only making him hold onto you tighter.

“Good girl.” His fingers flexed against your head and the combinations of both made you feel dizzy, happy that you could be good for him. 

With his other hand Justin reached out and trailed his fingertips from your shoulder down your arm until you realized what he wanted and gave him your hand. He brought it to his thigh, letting you lay your palm flat along the thick firm muscle before covering it with his own. 

“If I’m too rough,” Justin started, “or you need me to slow down, if you just want to take a break or stop for any reason, you slap my leg and I’ll stop. Understood?”

Nodding yes didn’t seem to satisfy Justin, instead he used the hand on your head to pull you off him. You barely managed to do that thing with your tongue before he had you looking up at him through your lashes again.

“I need you to say it.”

“Understood.” And oh how wrecked your voice already sounded. There was no doubt in your mind that it would be completely gone by tomorrow.

“Good girl.” He said again, before silencing your whine with his dick.

There was no denying that Justin was strong. He was thick with muscle, powerful, yet you never felt unsafe as he picked up the pace.

He was rough like you had asked him to. Thrusting hard and fast and pushing your head down to meet him halfway. It was maddening. Above you Justin said something but you were far too gone to listen.

It wasn’t until his movements got gentler and he slowly withdrew from your mouth that you tuned back in.

Justin hadn’t come and was still hard, was one thing you noticed, looking between his dick in front of you and his face high above you.

The fact that you had teared up like you had told him you wanted to, was another.

His hands came up to cradle your face and he gently wiped away the tears with his thumbs as you looked at him.

“So pretty.” His voice was soft, gentle as if to not spook you and the thought of him underestimating you made you want to protest but all that ended up happening was you pouting as he stroked your cheeks.

“Aw don’t pout. You can suck it again later. I just didn’t want to come until I got to fuck you.”

He had to bend down to kiss you, this tall man folding in half to reach you where you kneeled on his bed, and the reminder of your size difference made you squirm.

In response Justin kissed you harder, pushing forward until you lost our balance and fell back on the bed. In a fluid motion Justin followed, bracing himself above you as his lips found your lips, your jaw, your neck.

He made his way down your body, leaving behind a trail of kisses as he went. When he reached your chest he departed from his careful line of kisses. The two kisses, sweet little pecks almost, that he pressed to either boob, stood in stark contrast with his hand that bullied it’s way under your body so that he could unhook your bra. He tugged on the bridge until it became loose enough for you to get the hint and shrug it off while he pulled your skirt and embarrassingly soaked underwear down your legs in one smooth motion.

You didn’t even get the chance to think about hiding yourself from Justin before his large hands gently parted your legs enough for him to fit between them. His mouth fit itself against the skin on the side of your knee before he slowly, teasingly, kissed his way up to where you needed him most. Even though you anticipated the first touch of his lips against your pussy it still sent a shock through your body.

Justin didn’t waste any time pretending to tease you any longer. His lips found your clit almost immediately, wrapping around the small bud almost lovingly before sucking. His tongue toyed with it while you moaned his name. Your hands found their way into his hair and you pulled, hard, but not hard enough to dislodge Justin’s wonderful mouth. It took two more moans before he released your clit and wandered lower, dragging his lips along your skin as he moved. The first drag of his tongue was testing, exploring. The second one wasn’t tame at all.

Justin groaned against your pussy and you swore you could feel it through your entire body. He pulled away for a moment and a pitiful whine left your lips at the loss of his mouth, only for it to turn into a moan when you saw him licking his lips before diving in again. 

You got lost in the feeling of his mouth on you, the way his lips moved so similarly to when he was kissing you just moments before. His long fingers joined his lips in bringing you pleasure and you couldn’t hold back anymore, grinding against his face until you came with your thighs wrapped around his head.

Justin continued to mouth at your thigh as you started to come down before he stood up from the bed and you took a moment to just watch him. The aftershock of your orgasm still ran through your body and combined with the picture in front of you it felt like a high you never wanted to end. Justin was breathing heavy, his thick chest rising and falling hard. The last bit of sunlight shining through the curtains tinted the bedroom in a soft light making his face glisten and you realized with a jolt that the wetness on his cheeks came from you.

The fading light painted him golden, with his hair shining like a halo, a statue as a tribute to raw desire. His likeness could grace museums across the globe, giving other marbles complexes but instead of the Louvre he stood in his bedroom, looking down at you sprawled across his bed, waiting for him to take you like he had promised. 

When Justin finally moved it was in determined long strides. He was a simple man that kept his condoms in the first drawer of his nightstand. Part of you wanted to tell him to forget about them, to fuck you bare until you were dripping with him, but you didn’t want to spook him with your eagernes, so you resigned yourself to bringing it up the next time. Justin passed you on his hunt  for protection and you had to crane your neck back to watch him, but the view made up for it. His front was absolutely gorgeous but you had to admit that his backside was quite nice to look at as wel.You were debating whether or not you should reach out to touch him when he turned around, box in hand, before throwing it onto the bed near your head. It still had plastic around it and you couldn’t help but imagine Justin going to the store in preparation of your date, grabbing it not just in case but on purpose. Had he gotten it in preparation for this date? After the second date? After your first? The big box seemed awfully ambitious though. Perfect.

Instead of walking back to the end of the bed and working his way up your body again Justin just skipped straight to holding himself above you and you didn’t waste any time getting your hands into his locks and pulling him down until your lips connected. He kissed you hard and fast while slowly lowering himself until his heavy body pressed yours into the mattress. It felt so easy to let yourself be blanketed by his warmth, his solid body so close to yours that you could feel every inch of his desire.

“Fuck.” He exclaimed as he pulled away from the kiss. Justin didn’t venture far though, staying close enough that you could feel the strands of his hair tickling your cheeks.

“Can you…” He nodded towards the box.

You nodded, eager, before reaching for the box and struggling to rip it open. When it finally popped open it did so in spectacular fashion, spilling an avalanche of little foil packets all over the bed and your body.

“Oh.”

You didn’t know which one of you laughed first but it took some time before the two of you calmed down again. Justin helped you clear the mess, swiping the countless packets towards the free side of the bed. It should feel weird, at least a little bit, now that the tension between Justin and you got broken. For a second you feared that your clumsiness had turned him off completely but then he kissed you again, slow and deep and like he wanted to devour you.

One of his hands reached for the pile of condoms while the other moved up your side, cupping one of your boobs when he reached them. His thumb barely grazed your nipple before Justin moved away but he still managed to pull a moan from your lips.

“Ready?” He asked, looking at you with hungry eyes.

“Yes.” You needed him so badly. “Please.”

The first push of him inside you was careful but determined. Justin gave you aloof himself until he was buried to the hilt, pausing once he was fully inside you and giving you time to adjust to his large size. Youwanted to tell him to move,to fuck you until you felt him days fromnow, butbefore you could ask-beg-demand he silenced you with another seering kiss. You learned why when he pulled away from the kiss, still buried deep inside you.

“I need to be careful with you.” He talked low, almost whispering. “Don’t want you to be sore when I fuck you again later.”

It made sense. Afterall Justin had promised to keep you in his bed for days. But with him filling youtube so perfectly, there was simply no room left for logical thinking.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he started to move. Slow, meticulous thrusts that didn’t feel overwhelming at first but drove you wild after just a few movements of his hips. There was something otherworldly in the way he managed to hit all the places that needed to be hit, filling you up perfectly again and again and again. Justin stayed close to you while he fucked you, his hips grinding in deep and putting just enough pressure on your clit to send sparks of pleasure through your whole body.

Your hands tightened in his hair, making him groan before dipping down and encapsulating one of our nipples with his hot, wet mouth.

“Jus- Justin.”

His teeth grazed against the soft flesh of your boob teasingly before his tongue delved down, soothing the hard peak between his lips in gentle laps. Justin groaned when you tugged on his hair and the sensation of it vibrating against your skin just made you tighten your grip further. There was no denying that you needed him. Him and his soft mouth and his hard dick and his strong body pressed against yours. This perfect wave of pleasure just kept building with every single movement but you couldn’t reach your high.

“Just—” He bit down hard enough for it to sting before his tongue traced the slight indents. “Please.”

You weren’t above begging but your fucked out brain couldn’t think of any more words. Thankfully he seemed to understand what you needed even without your saying it.

“Fuck. Okay.” He lifted himself a little bit higher, chuckling when you whined at the loss of his weight and warmth. “You asked for this.”

He sounded just the right amount of condescending when you clenched around him and he rewarded you with a “good girl”.

You didn’t last long after Justin started fucking you properly, rough and fast like you had wanted him to. The power behind his thrusts was enough to move you on the bed, closer and closer towards the headboard every time your bodies connected. He had stopped holding back and made you come with only a handful of thrusts.

When you came to it was with Justin holding himself above your body —breathing hard— and your still shaking thighs wrapped around his hips. Part of you felt disappointed for missing what he looked like when he came but you knew there would be more than enough orgasms for you to catch a glimpse.

It took you a while to feel secure enough to remove your legs from him. After you did so Justin carefully pulled out and disposed of the condom. While he went to get a towel to help clean you up you were left in his bed. It took some energy to sit up but it didn’t hurt. You felt empty but that could be changed soon enough. 15 minutes. Maybe 20. Depending on when Justin wanted to go again.

Speaking of. Justin returned to his bedroom, still gloriously naked, holding water bottles in one of his hands and what looked like a washcloth and a towel in the other. You didn’t feel self conscious as he helped you clean up. He had seen every part of you already anyway.

He offered you a shirt of his to cover up but you didn’t mind being bare before him. There was the hint of a love bite starting to form on your chest and you hated the thought of covering up all his hard work. Still, you made a mental note to take him up on his offer later. You had a feeling that a shirt that fit his large frame would swallow you up and you wanted nothing more than to live out the big men’s shirt moment that had been denied you for so long. 

Instead you curled up with him, his blanket half draped over your bodies while you just laid there, enjoying the closeness between you. The energy between Justin and you continued to be magnetic, even after giving in to your desires, and you found yourself unable to tame a wide smile.

“Happy?” Justin looked at you with a soft smile on his lips.

“Hmmm. Very.” You let your eyes wander for a moment. “Want to make out?”

Instead of verbally answering Justin just cupped your face and brought your mouths together in a saccharine kiss.

[dotster001]

Hello, I think there is a big lack of Crewel content soo could I have some dating/courting hcs of him please? Thank you!

(a lot of this is self indulgent, what I would want from him, because you are right we don't have enough content from this man)

A/N: It's in my pinned post, and I've mentioned this in a couple posts, but if this is the first of my stuff you've read, I view NRC as an actual college, so reader here is 18+. If it makes you more comfy, imagine it as grad school age.

He's a professional. He knows he shouldn't date a student. No matter how hot, or smart, or fun he finds you, he stays professional. He doesn't want it to inadvertently be easier or harder for you to pass his class.

And like a true professional….he waits until your second year at NRC, when you are no longer taking his classes, to start pursuing you. 

He considers himself a smooth individual, but when he gets you a coffee on the first day of class, he's like

"Do you like me? Shoot, I meant do you like coffee? I misspoke."

With visible confusion in your eyes, you tell him you do like coffee, and he shoved the coffee in your hands and left with a muttered, "have a good day puppy"

But he's nothing If not a go getter, so he brushes it off, and brings you a coffee everyday. He has no more slip ups, but he does get nervous you're complacent in your relationship with him. Which is fine but…he likes you a lot. And he's known for being the most hot headed amongst the staff for a reason.

"Be yourself" Trein says in exasperation. "Bet," Divus says.

"I need a new model, for when I'm working during the school year. It used to be Vil, but as you know, his internship took him far away."

"I'm honored, but I wouldn't consider myself conventionally attractive," you said with a self conscious laugh.

He stared at you blankly for a moment, before abruptly smacking his pointer down on the table.

"Bad pup. Clearly I need to teach my new show dog some self confidence."

"But…"

"Be in my office on Saturday." Obviously, he couldn't threaten you to be there, but he could imply a threat in the way he said it.

He does measurements the first week, feeling excited as a school boy from being so close to you. When he measures your waist, he wants to throw away all pretenses and wrap you in his arms. But he has restraint. He can wait.

Soon he's spending hours sewing you outfits he hopes will make you feel beautiful. Part of the problem is, he already sees you as beautiful, so it's hard to tell if any particular outfit will work.

It takes until outfit three. When he puts his hands on your shoulders and maneuvers you to look in the mirror, on the pretense that he wants your opinion on makeup styles, you start staring at yourself in awe.

"I'm beautiful."

"You've always been beautiful," he can't restrain himself as he presses a soft kiss to your shoulder. You look at him standing behind you, in shock.

"What?"

"I thought I taught you better. Observation is key."

"That's specifically in potions though…"

He's groaning and rolling his eyes.

"How clear do I have to be?"

Things are a little awkward after that. He does your makeup, and you both sit in silence. He uses his thumb to smudge off some excess eyeliner and feels your cheeks burning under his finger. And he can't help the smirk on his face. Your eyes meet his and you are leaning in and pressing your lips to his.

Once you start dating, he continues to bring you coffee everyday, but he also brings you a lot of gifts. Usually something you can wear. His favorite gift he has given you is a crimson choker, with a shimmering medallion. He likes it for normal reasons.

He likes when you sit next to him in his office, after lesson hours. You can work on classwork, and he can work on his grading and paperwork. Personally, he prefers the days you have no homework, because then you can sit on his lap while he does his paperwork, and he can be surrounded by your scent.

You're still his model. He insists that you are exactly what he's looking for in his new fashion line. You're skeptical, at first, because you are vaguely certain  it was all a ploy to ask you out. But lo and behold, he releases the line three months later, and you have to eat your words. (Obviously it's a bestseller. The critics are calling it his most inspired line yet)

You don't live in Ramshackle anymore. He won't stand for it. You live in his penthouse apartment with him and his three dalmatians. Grim can move in with you if that's what you really want 😒 but he can't sleep in the bed with you guys. He'll have to stay in his own room. He's not good at sharing your snuggles, especially with a cat.

He loves to hold you in his arms. Not like a little spoon, but where he is slightly propped up, and you rest your head on his chest, snuggling into it as much as possible, while he wraps his arms around you. If you move, he whines a little. No moving. It's cuddle time!

He likes to take you to fancy expensive restaurants. He dresses you both up so you outshine the stars, then treats you to anything on the menu. He takes you on these date nights once a week.

You share your bed with his three dalmatians. They get attached to you very quickly, and it makes Divus jealous when they snuggle up to you, and shove him out of the bed at night. It's an accident, but he's still very pouty about it. Tbh, having to share a side of the bed is how he found his favorite snuggle position with you.

When he's feeling jealous or self conscious, he gives you one of his coats to wear for the day. He knows they're your friends, but sometimes Ace, Deuce, and even Jack sometimes, get a little handsy. So he'll slip the coat on you, and give you a soft kiss, pretending he was concerned that you might get too cold.

He likes to dress you in the morning. Partially, because he knows what you like to wear, partially because he's a fashion designer, but mostly because….

He buttoned up your shirt, and kissed your collarbone before buttoning the final button.

"You're beautiful…" he whispered.

He wrapped the ribbon that went with the shirt around your waist. He kissed your neck, and swayed from side to side as he whispered in your ear.

"You're radiant…"

He brushed his fingers through your hair in a final touch up of the style he finished for you a moment earlier.

"I adore you."

He doesn't expect much in return from you, romance wise. He knows you're a student, and that you don't have any money to your name, as you don't even belong to this world, so he knows not to expect presents. He knows you're busy, as his fellow faculty is rigorous with homework, and your friends are fools, so he's not expecting extra favors from you. All he wants from you is your eyes on him, and your beautiful voice wishing him a good morning when you wake up next to him

....

Found my tag list! So if you want to be added to a specific fandom/character tag list, let me know!

Tag list- @shytastemakerthing @stygianoir @leonia0 @eccedentesiast-sapphic

[findingnemosworld]

𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 - 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐤 𝐬𝐳𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐬𝐳𝐥𝐚𝐢

・𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬.

(𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭)

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐮𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐩 …

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝟐: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝, 𝐬𝐨 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐥𝐳, 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧, 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲.

This was it, the biggest moment she had ever experienced, her graduation ceremony.

Physiotherapy has been her greatest passions ever since she was a child, she had graduated school from her home country, opting to pursue a masters degree in Oxford University - and along the way she'd started working as an intern in one of the biggest football clubs known, Liverpool Football Club ... during the internship, not only was she able to implement her thesis topic, but also find love with a lovable Hungarian player.

Like her, Dominik was new to the club which was a common point that led to the pair growing closer during her time working there - eventually, a relationship was born, one that tested time as both were quite occupied with their passions yet despite that, were able to find time for one another.

Dominik was everything she could ever hope for in a man, charming, attentive, funny and ridiculously handsome.

The past ten months were a pure blessing, despite his busy schedule. Dominik would constantly call in to check on her as well as ask about her studies, he'd often sit with her whenever he wasn't busy with training and help her study, even going as far as to ask her about what her thesis topic, further assuring her just how attentive he was to her passion, the same way she did with her constantly being present during every match he played as well as helping him rehabilitate during his injury.

Each and every moment they spent together had led to this very moment now, today was a special day, it was the day she was set to recieve her degree.

The excitement had led to her waking up at around six in the morning despite the ceremony not starting for another three hours, she turns to her right to find a sleeping Dominik, his lips slightly parted, hair disheveled due to tossing and turning, the tattoos quite promiment and peeking from the bed sheets as his chest rose and fell evenly.

She didn't have the heart to wake him, therefore she gently removed the bedsheets from her body and tiptoed to the kitchen to make her-self some tea, she pours water into the kettle and turns on the stove to let it boil, she then proceeds to grab the mug that read, Future Doctor - the mug was a gift that Dominik had gotten her for her twenty first birthday which was quite adorable given that in his words, he knew that fancy gifts weren't exactly what she wanted.

Lost in thought, she barely noticed her boyfriend of nearly eleven months stride up to her from behind, he wraps his arms around her waist and lazily nuzzled his face in the curvature of her neck, "I told you I don't like to wake up alone." he whispers.

A soft smile appears across her lips, "I'm sorry baby, I am too nervous about today, I don't want to look like an idiot."

He grunts something incoherent before he said, "Baba, you won't look like an idiot! If anything, you're the opposite of an idiot."

"I almost spilt my coffee on your chest the first time we met," she reminds him with an amused expression across her face.

He chuckles, "God I wished you did, would have been an excuse to be closer to you back then."

She giggles at his remark, "I'm excited, I'm scared and nervous Domi, I mean I worked so hard for this, I don't want anything to go wrong."

Dominik reaches over to turn off the stove then swiftly turns her to face him, he cradles her face in his hands then proceeds to lean in and peck her lips before muttering, "You are going to look absolutely gorgeous taking that degree, and then I can brag about how I'm dating the most intelligent girl in the world."

His words soften her almost instantly and she proceeds to hug him, "I love you."

He grins then presses a kiss on the top of her head, "I love you too baby."

There was no denying that she had his whole heart, from the very moment he saw her in the training center until this very moment - he was and still hopelessly devoted her, yet the insecurities in the back of his could not help but rear their ugly head, she was so accomplished, so intelligent, well spoken and put together ... what was he? just a guy that became well known for pushing a ball in between his feet because his father wanted him to follow in his footsteps, sure he loved the game, granted the circumstances weren't healthy but in contrast her, he felt like ... nothing.

And boy did he loathe that emotion, it was akin to jealousy, something he had never felt in ages, not since he was a child having to see other children enjoying a normal life all the while his days consisted of training.

"Domi," she murmurs, breaking his train of thought.

"Hm?" he replied, rubbing her back.

"I gotta make my tea." she said.

"Make me one too then, please." he murmurs.

"Ok," she said then kissed his cheek.

He watched her with pure admiration as she quickly whipped up two mugs of chamomile tea, adding a hint of cardamom to help both of them relax for the big day, and as they make their way back to their bed, Dominik couldn't help but wonder if she would be better off with someone else, a doctor perhaps, or a lawyer, or someone with a normal occupation that doesn't force them to be away half the time.

He wanted to ask her, desperately wondering why she would rather stay with him than seek another man, yet he remained shut, especially when she curled up next to him after drinking her tea and quickly drifted off to sleep leaving him with only the ugly insecure thoughts swimming inside of his mind.

__

Dominik was seated with her parents who had traveled to attend the ceremony, dressed in a three piece black suit which he believed was suitable for the ceremony - he noted just how proud both of her parents were which in turn made him happy as the pair had worked so hard to provide her with this opportunity, "She was quite nervous." he remarked.

Her father chuckles, "she's always nervous,"

"Our angel is a pessimist at heart despite recieving the highest degrees, succeeding both in her studies and her extra curricular activites," her mother chimes in. "Hell, she was even nervous before she introducued us to you, she thought we wouldn't approve of you,"

Dominik smiles, recalling just how nervous she was at the propsect of him meeting her parents yet things turned out quite well, her father treated him as though he was his own and her mother doted on him, insisting that he visited whenever he could, "She definitely is ... but look at her,"

They watch in awe as her name was called out, and she gracefully walks up dressed in a beautiful dress topped off by the graduation cape and hat, she accepts her degree, flashing a smile towards her parents and Dominik, then making her way to the empty chair to sit whilst the others recieve their degrees.

"I don't know what I've done to deserve her," he murmurs, mostly to himself.

Her mother leans in and whispers, "You two are soulamtes."

Dominik turns to her then says, "Huh?"

"You think you two just met by chance, not at all," her mother smiles softly then adds, "God has put you in her path and her in yours, you two are more alike than you think."

He grows silent, contemplating if she was right yet the small voice in his head says otherwise causing him to momentarily grow frustrated at how insecure he was. "I love her," he said.

"She loves you too," her mother assures him just before saying, "Oh look, she's set to make a speech."

Dominik shifts his focus towards her as she takes the podium, with a clearly nervous look on her face, their eyes lock for a moment and he sends her an assuring smile, which seemingly worked on calming her nerves.

"Good afternoon," she begins with a soft smile, "I'm not good at speeches but I shall try to make this as short and brief as I can, I'd like to first congratulate my colleagues who worked as hard as myself to achieve their dream and make their mark as future Physiotherapists, it wasn't easy but we made it," she pauses, "I'd like to thank my professors, the department and everyone who pushed us to work hard, and be confident in our abilites, I'd also like to thank God as well as my parents who risked just about everything to give me this opportunity, and lastly, I'd like to thank my boyfriend ..."

Dominik's eyes softened as he sent her a sweet smile, tears brimmed at the corners of his eyes.

"He doesn't know that much about the inner depths of Physiotherapy and god knows I bored him night and day but he stuck with me, supporting me day and night until I got this far, so thank you." she smiled at him. "And lastly, I'd like to say, let's face life with the bravest face we got because it's not easy but it's worth it, thank you."

A thunderous roaring applause rippled through the auditorium as she made her way back to her chair, the photographer snapped a couple of photographs before the graduates were able to unite with their family and loved ones, she rushed to her parents, embracing the two of them as they congratulated her, she then turned to Dominik and said with an obvious squeal, "I made it."

"I knew you'd do it baby." Dominik embraced her before adding, "Now come on, dinner is on me."

"Nonesense, dinner is on us." her father interjects.

"No no, you two are here for two days, dinner is on me." Dominik smiles.

They dine in a beautiful Italian restaurant with a comfortable atmosphere, her parents spent the entire time conversing about the prospects she'd have now that she graduated and while he wanted nothing more than to pitch in, he found himself feeling less like her boyfriend and more like an idiot who did not understand a single thing they said.

She deserves better than you, the small voice reminds him. She's intelligent, beautiful and young, she deserves someone that can understand her, not a dumb fool like you.

Suddenly, Dominik stood up, excusing himself to head to the restroom unaware that she was rather confused by his demeanor as she had noted just how distant and lost in thought he was - she opted to wait until they were home to try and speak to him, meanwhile he was in the restroom, staring blankly at his reflection in the mirror.

What am I? just a clueless idiot who runs after a ball, he lets out a soft sigh, and she's just, ... perfect.

He hated this, this nagging sensation of jealousy coursing through his veins at this moment. Maybe I am holding her back, ... I should just let her go, she would find someone better, someone that can understand her and doesn't feel like an insecure child.

He splashes cold water on his face, then dries it off with a paper towel before stepping out and returning to their table, he sits down next to her and she leans in to whisper. "You ok love?"

"Yeah," he assures her with a smile.

She nods, albeit not convinced as she could tell just how distraught he was.

__

The pair drive back to their shared flat, and the moment they step inside - she stops him halfway before he enters the kitchen - he turns to face her, yet avoids looking her in the eye, "What is it?" he asks despite knowing that she is on to him, and had read through his façade.

"Domi, what's wrong?" she pulls him in, wrapping her arms around his torso.

"Nothing," he grumbles, instinctively wrapping his arms around her lower back. "Just my stupid brain making assumptions."

She frowns in confusion, "Assumptions about what?"

"Us." he blurts out then blushes, "I just ..."

This was difficult, far too difficult than he could imagine yet as he looked into her eyes, noting just how concerned she was for him - he realized that there was no way he could hide his emotions any longer. "I'm jealous, but I'm also insecure."

The phrasing served to both concern and confuse her as she replied with a gentle tone, "What do you mean?"

"You're a graduate with a masters degree, you completed your studies, you had a perfect life ... perfect grades, extra curricular activites and a social life, ..." he sighs then adds on, "All I had was the football pitch and my father asserting that this was the best for me, it's not that I hate football but the circumstances were toxic at best."

Her eyes soften as she reaches to run her fingers through his hair, "I had no idea."

"I didn't want to concern you, it's all stupid ideas. I just, I can't help it ..." he pouts then murmurs, "You deserve better than me."

Her eyes widen at the last phrase, "Absolutely not, if I had the chance to turn back time, I will meet you again, fall in love with you again and picture the most beautiful life with you."

He looks at her then says, "But why? I'm just an idiot who runs after a ball."

"Not to me you're not." she says then leans in to peck his lips. "You're my Domi, the one who makes me laugh with the stupidest jokes known to men, the one who listens to me ramble about the most trivial subjects and my studies, and on top of that he doesn't get bored, you're the one who goes above and beyond during date nights even though he doesn't have to, and you're the one who stole my heart the second I met him, I don't want anyone else to have my heart and I sure as hell don't want any woman to steal you, so what if you're a football player, you're still an amazing man, my man."

Her words were both soft and assertive, serving to lead him to lean in and capture her lips in the most romantic and passionate kiss he could muster, driven by his pure love and affection for her, "I love you baby."

"I love you too" she smiles.

[nee-biter]

Miguel x Peter x Reader x Jess? 😍

Thanks for the ask, anon! 🫶 So uh.. prepare yourselves 😭?

Internship Things | Miguel x Peter B x Reader x Jess

You are Jess's mentee, Miguel's sugar baby, and Peter B's mistress all the while trying to complete your internship hours 😮‍💨

Warnings: transactional relationships, sharing is caring, cunnilingus, consensual non-con, degradation, age gap, cheating, honestly it's just dirty

Your university was one of the most prestigious in Nueva York and had ties with both the local government and the local superhuman establishments.

Being one of the top students in your course, political science, you were tasked to survey and work in an institution of your choice; for whatever reason, you chose to intern at Spider Society.

How did you know Miguel O'Hara? He told you they don't accept interns. "There's no room for a regular girl like you." When you insisted, arguing that all institutions can benefit from having their systems looked into, he offered to sign your documents and pay for your tuition if you just shut that pretty mouth of yours and become a decoration in his office.

Maybe he was joking, so you spat back. He didn't like that.

How did you know Jessica Drew? That same day in that same office, she caught Miguel inside you, your panties balled up and stuffed in your mouth. His cum on your stomach, but he was still pumping it deep in you; your hands were wrapped around his neck and your eyes rolled back—couldn't escape him but also couldn't resist him. Jessica watched, turned on by her secrecy behind the door before she eventually came in and yanked you off from him. "Stop breeding girls like cattle, Miguel. Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll treat you better."

She was such a caring yet stern mentor that you could forgive her if she sometimes had the need to lick your clit over and over again until you squirt on her mouth. After a long day of her missions and your paperwork, she would knock at your work space.

How did you know Peter B Parker? You caught him making out with Miguel on your way to inspect the weapons archive, so now you had to be in on their secret. And having only one secret to keep isn't enough, you had to be their little play thing now.

Miguel tempted Peter B to take you. For some reason Peter B can cheat on his wife with a man, but gets faint at the idea of fucking another pussy. Peter B gently assured you could trust him and so, when he finally touched you—a soft hand on your hip—you leaned into his touch and became pliable to his kisses. From your neck, to your collarbones, until your clothes have come off and his lips were on your breasts then your wet cunt.

"I'm sorry, baby, what's your name again?" Of course he only asked that once his cock was already inside you.

You were only three weeks into your internship, but the amount of times your pussy has been used between the three of them could not be counted on your ten fingers.

Sometimes, Peter B would make small talk with you and tell you all about his wonderful daughter that you'd been wanting to meet. But then the next minute, he would sit you down a couch and start fingering you, one of your tits being suckled by him. He asked you once, "Am I the oldest man you've ever had? I swear I won't be shocked."

On some days, Miguel would call you into his lab with a pathetic excuse like 'needing outsider perspective.' It's code for needing you on your knees, sucking him good but never once pleasing you back. As he buries his cock in your throat, Miguel would pinch your nose, further tormenting you. He likes to use you and he's making that clear. "You're my personal slut, I own you. I pay you."

Honestly, you have Jess to thank for taking care of you at the end of any day. She invited you to her universe once and rented a hotel room—"call it a work-related field trip." She would run a bath for both of you, ask about your day, before your two bodies would intertwine. She'd have you lean on the wall, leg up, as she lapped your juices. She'd have you on the bed, exploring positions until you're eventually spent and gasping for air. "Thank god you chose this place to work in. Can't live without mommy's princess."

When your school asks you what you had been doing in Spider Society, maybe just lie?

[pedrito-friskito]

strawberry wine - joel miller x fem!reader

during - part five

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

and then it all comes crashing down.

a/n: outbreak day! plus the time leading up. I couldn’t bring myself to write joel’s side of the tragedy, but here we are. the start of “during”. potentially a little bit of canon-divergence from here until the “after”, but I’m trying to stick with that information we have, while filling in the gaps for reader’s story. (“after” will be when they leave boston with ellie)

word count: 4.4k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI, angst, fluff, a super brief mention of 9/11, this is definitely not as sad as part four but it’s also involves outbreak day so there’s that, canon-typical violence, death, yes I am turning reader into a badass and I will not apologize.

✨follow @friskito-library and turn on notifications for updates on new works/chapters✨

You never really stop thinking about him. And he never really stops being apart of your life, not truly.

He’s the first person you call, when the Towers fall in New York, not a week after you’ve started your internship. You see it on television, standing in line to get your boss his daily latte, and you pull out your cell phone without a second thought, dialling Joel’s number. “Have you seen the news?”

A freak snowstorm stops you from getting home for Christmas that year; the airport is a disaster to get through after everything that’s happened, so you take a few days off to drive it instead, but you can’t even get out of the state, let alone across the country. So your holidays that year are spent with local friends you’ve made at work, calling your family on Christmas Day and New Year’s.

You try to call Joel on New Year’s, to wish him a good year as the clock strikes twelve, but the call goes to voicemail, and your friends are counting down the ball drop as you ramble into the phone.

Hey, it’s me! Just calling to say Happy New Year, hope you’re having a good night. And hope I get to see more of you in 2002. That year sounds so funny, doesn’t it? Talk to you soon, Joel Miller. Bye.

You almost say it, the words creeping up the back of your throat. The missing him hasn’t abated, even with the time and the distance. You sleep in one of the flannel shirts you’d stolen every night, and you’ll admit that you cried a little when you had to wash them, realizing that it would wash the scent of him away almost completely.

The phone calls get more sporadic, and you don’t blame him. There’s only an hour time difference between Texas and Massachusetts, but it feels like much more. You’re off-kilter from one another, always seeming to catch each other’s voicemail instead of the real person.

You manage to make it home for the Fourth of July the following summer, your internship having turned into a real job, but a real job that’s kept you busier than ever for the first half of the year. Your boss is, blessedly, understanding, and lets you take two weeks to go back to Austin.

He meets you at the airport, your name scrawled on a piece of paper, a bouquet of daisies in his grip, and you nearly burst into tears right there in the terminal. Your entire two weeks is filled with him, though you try to split your time between the Miller’s house and your own, letting your sister talk your ear off more than she already does on the phone, taking a few afternoons to help your dad around the hardware store. But almost every night finds you in Joel’s bed.

You all go to the park for fireworks on the Fourth. Your parents are re-introduced to Joel, though you’re both adamantly just calling each other “good friends” — which earns you an eye roll from your sister. Sarah runs around the field with the other kids, waving sparklers and giggling like mad. You stick close to Joel, the three of you sitting on a blanket in the grass, and you watch the firework together, your head resting on his shoulder, his arm swung around your waist. Sarah’s too preoccupied with the firework display to notice.

When you get home the next morning, your sister hands you a polaroid, the words July 4th 2002 written in sharpie along the border. It’s you and Joel, backlit, your head on his shoulder as a gigantic white firework explodes in the night sky. You don’t know what to say.

“I know you never wanted to leave him,” she says, and you nearly burst into tears as you hug her.

It’s another tearful goodbye when your two weeks are up, and you’re a fool to think it’d be any easier than the first time. You say goodbye to your parents first, and Joel picks you up in his truck, taking you to the airport. He kisses you deeply outside, burying his hands in your hair and squeezing you tight before letting you go.

And always the same farewell, the same thing he said when you first left, the same thing he’s said at the end of every phone call.

“Take care of yourself, baby.”

+

You meet Dean through a friend of a friend.

It’s almost Christmas, 2002, and you haven’t been home since July. Your phone calls with Joel have dwindled to almost non-existent; you just don’t have the time. Work is busy, to the point where you find yourself still sat at your desk until nearly midnight some nights. And you’re still missing each other, voicemails left occasionally, the missed calls stacking up through the week until it’s the weekend and you feel too tired to put yourself through the heartbreak of hearing his voice.

Hey, darlin’, it’s me. I keep missin’ ya, I guess. Hope you’re doin’ okay. Don’t work too hard, yeah? Been thinking about you a lot and I just…Take care of yourself.

It felt like a goodbye. Standing in your kitchen, takeout spread out on your counter, chopsticks in hand. He hadn’t said it, not specifically. There was no I can’t do this anymore, no this hurts too much, doesn’t it hurt you too? But it still felt like a finality, of sorts.

You took the takeout to bed with a bottle of wine.

That weekend, your friends drag you out to some party. A housewarming thing for someone you don’t know, a fancy loft on the other side of the city. It’s as good a reason as any to get out of your head, throwing on a new dress and a bit of makeup. You do shots in your apartment before piling into a cab, tipsy by the time you get to the party. There’s lots of faces you don’t know, your friends pulling you through the crowds, one of them grinning at you.

“You have to meet Dean.”

He’s tall. Sandy blonde hair and bright blue eyes and he’s a lawyer. He laughs at your jokes and gets you another drink when you finish your first. He’s from Boston; a pure-bred, he tells you, and chuckles when you ask to see his pedigree.

You wake up in his bed the next day, your dress and shoes scattered on the floor of his stupidly nice apartment, head throbbing with a hangover, guilt bubbling up on your tongue like bile. Dean makes you coffee and calls you a cab, gives you a business card with his number on it. “God, this feels like a business deal,” he says, shaking his head, nearly taking the card back. “I can find a takeout menu or something, write my number on that instead.”

“No, this is good,” you laugh, and the guilt mixes with something strangely giddy when he kisses you goodbye.

When you get home, you wrap yourself in the flannel you’d taken from Joel, and weep. Part of you whispers that you shouldn’t feel guilty, that Joel’s all the way across the country, that you two aren’t technically together to begin with, but it does little to ease the ache in your chest.

Your friend calls in the early afternoon, and when she hears the crack in your voice, she’s on your doorstep not thirty minutes later. You spill your guts — recount the story of you and Joel, show her the polaroid from the Fourth of July, tell her everything, until you’re crying on your couch again.

“Honey, maybe you should talk to him,” she tells you, and you know she’s right, but the idea of talking to Joel just makes your chest hurt more. “This isn’t good for either of you, holding on like this when you can’t be together. Talk to him.”

Joel beats you to the punch, calling you shortly after your friend has left. “Hey, finally got you instead of your voicemail.”

“Hah, yeah,” you reply, sinking a little deeper into the couch. “Sorry I keep missing you.”

“S’okay,” he mumbles, and it only hurts more when you can almost see him in your head, sitting on his couch or at the edge of his bed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine,” you lie, wiping the wet from your cheeks. “Just busy lately, y’know?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, then pauses. “You sure you’re okay?”

You inhale deeply, feeling the air rattle its way through your lungs. “Joel, I met someone.”

It’s a long moment, before he says anything, so long you think you’ve lost him for a second, that he hung up. But then, “That’s good.”

“Is it?”

“No,” he says instantly, and you both let out watery laughs. “No, but it…It is good. You’re all the way out there and I’m here and…Missin’ you, not havin’ you around, it hurts, y’know?”

“I do,” you agree, biting into your lower lip when it wobbles. “I miss you too, Joel, it’s just—”

“I know, baby,” he replies, and the tone in his voice makes your eyes slip shut, tears pouring down your cheeks. “I gotta go, I promised Sarah movie night. We’ll….we’ll talk soon, alright?” A pause. “Take care of yourself.”

The line goes dead for real then, and you launch your phone across the room, groaning when it lands on the carpet and doesn’t smash to pieces. You bury yourself in the pillows on the couch, and just cry.

Dean calls the following week, and asks you out to dinner. Dinner evolves into more than that, more dates and more conversation. He works two blocks down from you, and brings you coffee every morning on his way to his office. He takes you to museums and art galleries and introduces you to his friends. It’s easy to fall for him, and you let yourself do it. He kisses you at midnight on New Year’s, whispers that 2003 is going to be the best year of your lives.

You have no idea how wrong he will turn out to be.

+

It’s September 26th, 2003. It’s your twenty-fifth birthday.

It starts out like a normal day; as normal as it can be, lately. You’ve made a point to ignore the news as best you can, letting Dean recap it for you when he gets home each day, filling you in on the water cooler talk that you only half listen to.

Dean’s up and gone when you wake up, but there’s a birthday card beside your pillow, a cartoon cake with a silly face. You’re another year older… And the inside reads: and other year cuter! Happy Birthday! It’s cheesy and you scoff out a laugh, getting up and going about your morning routine. A fire truck screams down the road when you walk out of the building, cop cars trailing after it, but you think nothing of it; sirens are a common occurrence in the city.

It’s a short walk from your apartment — the apartment you now share with Dean, the pair of you having relocated somewhere that was closer to both your jobs — to work, and you stop by your favourite coffee shop, only slightly disappointed when they don’t have the raspberry scones you like. “It’s a supply chain thing,” the girl behind the counter tells you with a shrug. “They haven’t been able to get ingredients in for weeks. I’m just glad we have coffee.”

“That makes two of us,” you agree, taking your cup with a nod. “Have a good day!”

“You, too!”

There’s a big bouquet of roses waiting on your desk, the card signed with Dean’s name, and the other girls ooh and ahh at the arrangement. One of them asks you if you think he’ll propose, and you have to resist the urge to sprint in the opposite direction.

Dean calls on your lunch break, tells you he’s already pre-ordered from your favourite Thai place, and it’ll be waiting for you when you get home from your post-work drinks with your friends. When he tells you he loves you, it still makes your chest ache, just a touch.

You still think about Joel. It’s hard not to. After that last call, when you told him you’d met Dean, you called back a few days later, unable to stop yourself. There were apologies, from both him and you, and the conversation ended with a promise that you’d still stay in touch, that it would still be friendly between you, and that maybe someday could be an option, if the time was right, but you wouldn’t stand in each other’s way.

So you’ve stayed in touch. The phone calls are still more sporadic than anything, but it’s always nice to hear his voice, and he always has a joke to crack. And, consistent Joel Miller, at the end of every phone call: “Take care of yourself, darlin’.”

You get a surprising amount of work done that day, your friends appearing at five o’clock on the dot and dragging you away from your computer. You let them buy you happy hour drinks and put a Birthday Princess tiara on your head, laugh your way through the evening until it’s almost nine. You thank you friends and leave the bar, and think as you walk past one of the little corner store grocery shops that you could really use a chocolate bar.

You’re walking down the toiletries aisle, the basket hanging from your elbow filled with not just chocolate, but a few other things you couldn’t resist, when your phone rings, an Austin area code flashing on the screen.

“I didn’t know today was your birthday,” Joel says by way of hello, and you giggle. “How have I known you this long and not known that you and I have the same birthday?”

“You never asked,” you answer, reaching for a tissue box with a fun pattern, “and it never came up, really. Wait, today’s your birthday too?”

“Thirty-six and still breathin’,” he confirms, and you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face. “I stopped by the hardware store today for a few things, your dad told me.”

“Ahh.” Your parents had called you just before you’d left for work. “That store must be so boring without me in it.”

“It really is,” Joel agrees, and then his voice drops. “No one around to make out with in the aisles.” A beat, and then. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you say quickly, shaking your head even though you know he can’t see it, the memory of being pressed between the shelves of paint cans and Joel Miller making your face heat. “It’s a good memory.”

“It is,” he agrees, making a little humming noise. “So, boyfriend got big plans for you tonight?”

“Thai food and a movie,” you tell him, grabbing a bottle of toilet cleaner. “Just left the bar, had some drinks with my work friends. Never really been a big birthday person, y’know?”

“You’re preaching to the choir, darlin’.”

“What about you, Joel Miller?” you ask, heading down the next aisle. A lot of the shelves are empty, and it makes your brow furrow. “What big birthday plans do you have this evening?”

“Hah, none,” he replies. “Working a double with Tommy, just took a break now. Told Sarah I’d be home by nine, but I don’t know if that’ll work out. They gave us the wrong size for the headers and…” He trails off. “That doesn’t mean anything to you, does it?”

“I’d listen to you read the phone book,” you joke. “At least get yourself a cake? Something like that? If I’d known we shared the same birthday I would have had my sister bring something over for you.”

“Sarah made me breakfast, got me out of bed on time. That’s all I need, really.”

“Is it?”

You don’t mean the question to sound as heavy as it does, and silence hangs between you for a long moment before you stutter out an apology. Joel’s quick to change the subject.

“Boyfriend is still your boyfriend, right? No ring on your finger yet?”

“You know, you’re the second person to bring that up today,” you say, heading down the next aisle. It’s just as empty as the one before, and your confusion deepens. “You want the truth?”

“Generally.”

“If he asked, I don’t think I’d say yes.” Heat rises in your face, and you stutter again. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

“You can tell me anything,” he replies, and there’s a softness in his tone that you recognize, making warmth spread through your chest. “I’m always here for you, darlin’. I know things are different now, but I’m still here.”

“I appreciate that.”

You hear Tommy’s voice in the background, and Joel curses under his breath. “I gotta go. Enjoy your night. Happy Birthday.”

“You, too. Happy Birthday, Joel,” you reply, a smile in your voice, and then the line clicks off.

You loop through the rest of the aisles, sliding your phone back into your pocket. When you ask the cashier about the empty shelves, you get the same answer you’d gotten at the coffee shop. “Supply chain issues.”

The apartment is quiet when you get inside, tossing your keys into the bowl beside the door. The Thai food is sitting on the counter, as promised, and you set your grocery bags down beside it, stealing a few noodles before calling for Dean. “Honey, I’m home!”

There’s no response, and you assume he must be in the shower, so you pad down the hall. The bedroom light is off, moonlight flooding through the window, and as you step into the doorway, you see him, standing there, facing the window. His hands are at his sides, and as you watch, his hand twitches, the movement making your brow furrow.

“Dean?” you call, taking a half-step forward. In an instant, something feels wrong, and worry rises in your chest, makes your heart racket against your ribs. “Babe, what’s going on?”

He turns then, so fast you can’t even blink before it happens. And he just…stares. There’s no light in his eyes, just a dead look that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You say his name again, the worry seeping into your voice, and then he snarls.

“Fuck.”

You don’t understand what’s happening, but your body seems to react of it’s own accord. Dean lunges toward you, an inhuman sound falling out of him, and your eyes skirt around, looking for something to protect yourself with as he scrambles over the bed, limbs flailing, those dead eyes boring into you. Your hand flashes out, curling around the leather-wrapped handle of the baseball bat, and as you’re knocked to the ground, you use it as a barrier, shoving the metal against his chest.

His face is all wrong. It’s not just the dead eyes; his teeth are yellowed and his gums blackened as he snaps at you, trying to claw at you. White marks have risen all over his face, spreading out like a map beneath his skin.

What the fuck is going on?

You manage to plant your foot on his chest, and shove with all your might, yelling as the movement makes your knees twinge. He doesn’t go far, but it’s enough to get him off of you, and you scramble backwards, throwing the door shut as you run for the kitchen, the bat held tightly in your grasp. Heart racing, you find the biggest knife you can in the kitchen, sucking down hurried breaths. You’re in shock.

There’s a flash of red outside the balcony door, and you turn to see flames explode from the building across from yours. On the streets below, cars start to crash into each other, the sound of sirens twice as loud. You can hear people screaming, even through the glass.

A loud bang pulls you back into the apartment, and you turn just as Dean comes sprinting down the hall, losing his balance and skidding across the carpet. You throw the kitchen knife as he lunges for you, but it misses, the blade bouncing off his chest and sliding beneath the coffee table. A guttural growl echoes through the apartment, and when he leaps at you, you swing.

Your first hit smacks his shoulder. It doesn’t do much, but he lets out a pained yowl and when you swing again, there’s a sickening crack. He swipes at you, lunging again as you stumble backwards through the living room, the couch toppling over as you both fall onto it. His fingers dig into your shoulder and you scream, pain radiating through your arm, but you tighten your grip on the bat and ram the end of it into his face.

Another growl, another swing. You manage to get to your feet, blood pouring down your arm, painting your blouse crimson, and you put the kitchen island between you and him, moving quickly, keeping the bat held high.

When he jumps again, you swing. Hard. The bat connects with his temple, his neck cracking loudly as his head snaps to the side, and he slumps to the ground, blood pouring from his mouth. The metal rings as you drop the bat, collapsing onto the kitchen floor a moment later, blinding grabbing for one of the dishrags hanging from the stove, covering your shoulder with it and clamping your hand over the wound.

Why is this happening?

You’re not quite sure how long you’re sat there, curled against the cabinets. The bleeding on your shoulder slows, but doesn’t stop completely, and you’re starting to feel lightheaded. Not just the blood loss, you know, but the shock. Dean’s body has stopped twitching, but there’s something seeping out of his mouth, curling across the tile. When you spot the movement, you’re on your feet in a second, blinking past the momentary wooziness, grabbing the bat again.

When you click on the television, a loud beep echoes, nothing but a black screen, and you try to change the channel, but it’s the same on every one. Finally, the beep ends, and a robotic voice takes its place.

…indoors. Law enforcement and emergency services are in the area and will be in contact with further instructions. Stay indoors…

Over and over again.

Your arm is pulsing, the rag on your shoulder wet with blood. You need to clean it, you think. You need some water, you need to—

The phone starts ringing. Your phone. Cell phone. Where you left it, in your purse. Your purse is by the door, across the apartment. You have to walk around Dean to get there, and you go slow, your eyes glued to his unmoving form. The bat is still in your hand, the end of it dragging over the carpet as you walk towards the door. Another metallic noise when it hits hardwood.

Your eyes are still on Dean as you dig in your purse, on the thing still coming out of his mouth, crawling along the grout lines in the tile. Out, out, out, you need to get out, you need to get away, you need to—

Your fingers close around your cell. Hit the button, bring it to your ear.

“Are you safe?” Joel barks, and you nearly drop the phone, the sound of his voice slamming you back into your head, your breath hitching so hard you almost choke. “Baby, where are you?”

“Home,” you cry, leaning against the wall, gripping the bat so hard your knuckles hurt. “I-I got home and Dean, he just…he…I…” You wheeze, your breath not enough, your head feeling lighter, your vision spotting with black. “He’s dead. I’m bleeding.”

“It’s everywhere,” he says, his voice low, and he keeps talking, but you don’t think he’s talking to you. You space out, your gaze glued to the body on your floor, until Joel says your name. “Why are you bleeding? What happened?”

“He…” you trail off, your eyes focusing on Dean’s bloody knuckles, limp on the kitchen floor. “He grabbed me, he…he was trying to bite me.”

“Did he?”

“No,” you say, your voice sounding a bit more sure. You shake your head, pressing your palm against your shoulder. The pain spikes, but it helps, clears your head a bit. “It’s a scratch. Deep.”

“You need to clean it, you hear me?” Joel says. “Patch yourself up, baby, all right? You have a first aid kit?”

You drop the bat, pressing the back of your hand against your forehead. You’re shaking. “In the bathroom.”

“Good, go, do it now. I’m not hanging up until you do.”

You reach for the bat again, use it as a prop to get back to your feet. You cast Dean’s still form one more glance before retreating down the hallway. He’d burst through the bedroom door, and wood splinters cover the floor, the door still half on its hinge, split down the middle.

“Joel, why is this happening?” you ask, your voice climbing, fear taking over. You get into the bathroom, momentarily shaken by your appearance in the mirror. Your hair wild, the blood smeared along your chest and neck, your stained and torn blouse. “What is happening?”

“I don’t know,” he replies, and the thread of fear in his voice makes tears spring in your eyes. “But I want you to listen to me, okay? You patch yourself up, you grab what you can, and you run. You understand? Get in your car and get out of the city, as fast as you can. You don’t wait, you don’t stop for anyone, and you just keep going.”

You nod for a moment before you realize he can’t see you. “Okay. What do I…?”

“I’ll find you, baby,” he says, and the surety in his voice makes everything in you ache. “I’m gonna find you, you hear me? Just get out of Boston and I swear to you, I’m—”

Static. Dead air. Gone.

“Joel? No, come back, Joel, please—” You stare at the phone, try to redial the number, hit the button over and over and over and over. No signal, the screen informs you.

Nothing. Nothing but the sound of your own heartbeat, the rapid pulse against your ribs, the breaths that seem to rattle through your lungs. Outside of that, silence.

You slam the phone down, slam your hands against the bathroom sink.

“Joel!”

PREV | NEXT

[humanpurposes]

My Heart Belongs to Daddy, part v, modern!Aemond

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist // She's the first one that I see

modern!Aemond x step-daughter

Warnings: 18+, smut, language, questionable relationships, you know the drill, also mentions of terminal illness.

Words: 9300

A/n: Aemond's pov here we gooo. This part gets its own header coz vibes. Also available to read on AO3.

Another summer brought another two months at Dragonstone. 

The relief Aemond felt clambering out of his mother’s Volvo and into the coastal breeze was immeasurable. Helaena got the front seat, as always, which left the three boys to be packed into the backseat for two hours, in the middle of a June heatwave.

He somewhat resented Daemon and Laena’s absence this year. Generally they alternated summers between Dragonstone and Pentos with the Velaryons. It was a shame, his uncle often brought some much needed tension to family holidays, the entertaining kind as opposed to the depressing kind, and Baela and Rhaena were by far the most tolerable of the younger family members.

Viserys hadn’t arrived yet. He had some work things to catch up on and would drive down later, which just left the Strongs. Alicent had received a call from Rhaenyra while they were in the car to say they’d be a few hours behind them. Thank the Gods. At least it gave them a few hours of peace.

Dragonstone had originally been built as a castle, preserved over the centuries as a place for pleasure rather than a defensive keep. It had a gatehouse, turrets, arrowslits, parapets and ivy sprawling over the outer walls that turned red in the autumn. It looked idyllic, like a castle out of a fairytale.

After bringing his bag up to his room there was only one place Aemond wanted to be.

His favourite part of coming back to Dragonstone were the gardens, sprawling walks of greenery, sweet-smelling rose bushes and sandstone archways. If the weather was right, he could convince himself he was in some remote corner of an Italian manor house. 

One of the gravel paths led down to the pool, overlooked by a patio from the back of the main house. It was a blissful little oasis, when he could have it to himself, of crystal clear water, tall hedges and blue and orange tiles laid out in intricate patterns. 

He had his trunks on already and left his t-shirt and shorts on a sun lounger before he slipped into the water. The cold was a welcome reprieve, especially when he dunked his head under and pushed off from the side, cutting through the water with powerful strokes. 

It had been a while since he’d had time for swimming and he felt slightly irritated at the ache in his arms from the unfamiliar movements. To be fair to himself, he hadn’t made time for any hobbies over the last few weeks on account of his exams, and it had paid off at least. He still had a few weeks until he would get his results but he knew he would do well. 

As far as he was concerned, his future was set. He would get four A*s, then in September he’d be off to Oldtown to start university. In three years, he would graduate with a first and come back to King’s Landing to start at Targ Corp, despite his grandfather’s attempts to convince him to consider a career at Beacon, the Hightower family business. Otto had a vision that one day, his grandsons would run two of the largest companies in Westeros, Aegon at Targ Corp and Aemond at Beacon.

Although the offer of a generous salary and an internship during his studies had sounded tempting, it was a question of pride more than anything. The silver hair should have been evidence enough; Aemond was a Targaryen before he was a Hightower.

Despite his determination to live up to the family name, he had come to resent these summers at their ancestral home. The house and the gardens were beautiful, and he loved being so close to the isolated beach below the hill the house was set on, but he could think of no worse fate than having to spend ten weeks with his insufferable sister, their father’s pride and joy, her idiotic husband and their three sons. 

He ran his hands over his face as he emerged on the other side of the pool, his left palm skimming over the scar on the side of his face. It was easy to forget it was there sometimes, until he’d catch someone frowning at it. 

Rhaenyra was lucky his mother hadn’t pressed charges and publically issued a statement that the whole thing had been a “tragic accident”. Later he learnt Alicent had been holding it over Rhaenyra’s head ever since, waiting for a time when she’d need the leverage.

Ten weeks with the Strongs was all that stood between him and the rest of his life, some sick test of patience. 

He wasn’t alone for long before he spotted Aegon and Daeron at the outlook up at the house. They sprinted out of view and soon came hurtling down the steps to the pool in their trunks. They leapt in, disturbing Aemond’s laps but he reluctantly let himself be happy that the three of them were in the same place for once.

Aegon had just finished a degree in criminal psychology. Alicent and Otto had had to practically buy him a place at KLU. How he had managed to pass was a mystery to everyone, Aemond wondered if he had pulled it together at the last minute purely out of spite. He had already been living in a flat in central with a few of his friends for the last two years. Helaena said he rarely visited the house.

Aemond and Daeron had barely been back from Duskendale before they were all in the car to Dragonstone. He hadn’t minded boarding school, in some ways it made him appreciate the times he got to be at home, and it meant he didn’t have to see his father on a daily basis or watch his mother drive herself insane with her self-imposed workload. Again, Helaena gave him updates on that. He supposed it would make the move to Oldtown less jarring. 

For now he laughed as Aegon challenged them to swimming races and tackled Daeron when he lost. The oldest Targaryen brother was surprisingly strong for his shorter stature. Daeron towered over him but he was wiry, easy for Aegon to sling him over his shoulder.

They were making such a scene in the water that Aemond didn’t notice his mother until she shouted Aegon’s name from the bottom of the steps. “Put your brother down and get changed, seven hells!”

Aegon tossed Daeron’s legs over his head, sending him flopping unceremoniously into the pool. “What’s the rush?” 

“Rhaenyra and Harwin are only half an hour away!” Alicent shrieked, as if this was something they should have cared about. “And they’re bringing a guest, so I want you all presentable and ready for dinner before they arrive.”

Daeron was starting to climb up the ladder, so Aemond pressed his palms to the edge of the pool and pushed himself out. 

“What guest?” he asked, reaching for his towel from one of the sun loungers.

Harwin’s niece. 

She’d been a flower girl at Harwin and Rhaenyra’s wedding, but he only knew that from the photographs. He didn’t remember the last time he must have seen her, probably some family gathering with the Strongs, before Luke slashed a knife in his face and they stopped seeing them as often. 

Aegon seemed eager for “fresh meat” as they marched back up to the house.

Daeron was more sceptical and shot Aemond a concerned frown. “Just what we need, another Strong kid.”

After a quick shower, Aemond changed into a white t-shirt and a pair of dark green cargo trousers, and made his way through the maze of hallways and ornate staircases. He found his parents in the reception hall, a spacious room located at the front of the house, leading off from the entrance hall,  going through to the dining room on one side and the drawing room from the other. It was where they usually lingered when the arrival of a guest was imminent. 

Most of the visitors to Dragonstone considered this to be the most impressive room in the house, with its tall stained glass windows, silver chandelier, walnut panelling and carved columns supporting a gallery on the first floor.

The smell of smoke and charred wood drifted from the fireplace, mingling with the musk of antique velvet sofas. Alicent was torn between typing something on her phone and discussing some arrangement with their head of security, a deceptively young looking man with black hair named Criston Cole.

Evidently Viserys had arrived. He was sitting in a red armchair, taking small sips of a glass of whisky. He looked up when he heard footsteps against the floor, and offered his son a vague nod.

Helaena and Daeron weren’t far behind Aemond, and Aegon was of course the last to make it down. He insisted it was “perfect timing,” because the moment he walked into the room, Cole received a call from the front gate.

Daeron perched on the windowsill and jittering like a puppy as a black escalade pulled up before the gatehouse. 

Within minutes Viserys was throwing his arms around his favourite child. Aemond cast a cold glare over Harwin, Jace, Luke and little Joffrey, clinging to his father’s hand with his thumb in his mouth. The sixth guest followed behind them.

Her hair was pulled away from her face, wide eyes sweeping curiously over the people, the paintings on the walls and the antiques in glass cabinets. The beginning of a smile spread across her lips, but her face fell when her eyes met his.

Aemond sucked his teeth into his lips. He was used to people looking at him like that, or averting their gaze altogether. He could only imagine what Jace and Luke might have told her about their cruel uncle and his horrible scar. 

At dinner she sat on the other end of the table from him, between Harwin and Jace. She was a few years older than her cousins but they all seemed to get on well, joking and smiling at each other. It made Aemond’s blood boil.

Daeron made a point of introducing himself to her but he suspected this show of hospitality was mostly because she was pretty.

She really was pretty though, and quiet, but not necessarily in a nervous way. She seemed content to listen, smiling vaguely at the things people said, feeling no need to fill the silences. When she did smile– properly smile– it was wide, bright and unashamed. 

He overheard her mention an interest in history as dessert was brought out, asking Rhaenyra and Viserys all sorts of questions about Dragonstone’s origins and architecture. He thought of a few books in the library he could recommend but dismissed the idea. When Aegon suggested giving her a tour of the house he felt his grip on his fork tighten. 

Dragonstone was large enough that even with most of the family there it was easy to feel alone, and Aemond spent the first few days of their stay doing exactly that. In the mornings he’d go for a run, then head down to either the pool or the beach for a quick swim. He had his reading list for uni already and was making his way through a textbook on political philosophy, which he read either in the library or a quiet corner of the garden. 

Daeron and Aegon were far better at being civil with Jace and Luke than he was, and she seemed happy to tag along with their antics. Aemond avoided them where he could. 

One afternoon he decided to take his textbook to the patio at the back of the house, and winced at the shrieks of laughter coming from the pool. He was going to head back inside but found himself stepping towards the balustrade, looking over the greenery to the unnaturally blue water.

She was sitting on the edge of the pool in a red swimsuit, with her legs in the water. Even from so far away he could make out the details of her smile, her teeth, the roundness of her cheeks and the way she squinted her eyes.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, until a gentle voice pulled him from his trance.

“Aemond?”

His heart almost stopped and he spun around immediately. An awful feeling sank into his chest, like he’d done something wrong.

Helaena was standing in the doorway, in a pale blue sundress and purple sandals. “Me and mum were going to drive into the village, if you’d like to come?”

Maybe some time away from the house would do him good. He nodded and uttered a quiet “yes.”

She came onto her tiptoes, trying to peer past his shoulder, but from where she was standing she wouldn’t have been able to see what he was looking at. Maybe she didn’t need to see. Another few howls of laughter drifted up to the patio, and a cry of “Aegon, you bastard!” 

Helaena sighed and smiled. He left his book on a table in the entrance hall and followed his sister out to the gatehouse where Alicent was already waiting in the Volvo.

The village was just over a ten minute drive away from the house. Aemond leaned his head against the window in the backseat, feeling content in the blur of vibrant greens and blues. He could have fallen asleep to the hum of the air con and the voices of his mother and sister.

Until he heard her name.

“What?” he mumbled, absentmindedly, shifting himself in the seat and catching Helaena’s eye through her overhead mirror.

“She’s starting her A Levels in September,” Alicent said. “Politics, philosophy and history, same as you.”

He had also taken an extra class in High Valyrian, but he wasn’t going to hold it against her.

“You’d get on I think,” Helaena added, pushing her John Lennon-esque sunglasses on top of her head. He could see she was smirking.

Aemond huffed and went back to staring out the window at the fields, the sky, the sea and the wildflowers growing at the side of the road. He could say he didn’t care about their guest but it would have been a lie. He couldn’t get that red swimsuit out of his head.

Eventually he started agreeing to the occasional beach trip or tennis match. Turns out he quite enjoyed spending time with his nephews when he could beat them at something. And it meant he could see her more often.

There were these odd moments, when he’d catch her staring at him over breakfast or by the pool, that got his hopes up a little, only for her to quickly look away and find someone to fawn over, usually Aegon or one of her cousins. But then she’d find him in the garden and ask about the book he was reading, or sit next to him when they lit a campfire on the beach, just brushing her leg against his. 

They could be confusing but he liked those moments. Every day he woke up ectatic that he would get to see her, and that they might talk about politics or philosophy or a shared love for Daphne du Maurier or the Great Gatsby.

He needed her alone, just once.

He got the chance on the last weekend of July. Alicent, Rhaenyra and Helaena had gone to Rosby for the day, while Harwin had been talking about a trip to Dragonstone harbour to go fishing, something Daeron sounded rather enthusiastic about. Leaving him, Aegon and Viserys at the house. 

After a late breakfast, Aemond went up to the library with the next book on his reading list, An Introduction to Essosi Regionalism. He was rather taken aback to see her sitting at the writing desk by the window. He had assumed she had gone to the harbour with the others.

In a sudden and awkward motion she stood and turned to face him, with wide eyes and a small smile.

“Sorry,” she said, pointing at the desk, “did you want to–”

“No.” He instantly regretted how short and final he sounded. 

Her eyes dipped and he realised he was clutching his book far too tightly.

“I was only looking really,” she said, reaching back for her book, a biography of Queen Alysanne. 

“You like history,” he said, intending it to be a question but it sounded more like a statement.

She smiled again, at his mistake, he guessed. “Yeah, it’s incredible getting to spend so much time here, it’s a beautiful house.”

He stepped forward to place his book on the desk behind her, noticing the sweet citrusy scent of her perfume and the way  she tensed up when he came too close.

“I could show you around, if you’d like? I mean, you’ve already been here long enough and you’ve probably seen most of it by now–”

It was only when she put a hand on his shoulder did he realise his head had dropped down to the floor.

“I’d love to,” she said.

Suddenly his chest felt a little lighter.

He showed her his favourite parts of the house, except the library which she had already seen, obviously. She had so many questions, noticed every detail and traced her fingertips along the ancient stone walls with a look of wonder that made his heart flutter.

Then they came to the long gallery overlooking the reception hall. He pointed out the fan vaulted ceiling detailed with gold and the line of portraits of hundreds of years of Targaryen history, monarchs and more recent family members. She was especially fascinated with a portrait of King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne with children. She could put a name and a story to every face.

She turned her head towards him and her breath hitched when she realised he was looking at her. His first instinct was to back away and apologise, but she didn’t move or say anything, just looked up at him with those pretty eyes. 

He wondered if he should kiss her. He’d never tried to kiss someone before. It should have been simple enough but it felt so daunting. What if he did it wrong? What if she didn’t want him to?

He saw her eyes flicker to his scar, and felt like he understood.

“Do you want to look at the old solar?” he asked, already walking towards the north door at the end of the gallery.

Behind him he heard her mutter a quiet “yeah.”

He rushed through the last few rooms. He could hardly catch his breath or think beyond the choking feeling in his throat or how hot the house seemed all of a sudden.

“Do you want to go outside?” she asked when he suggested going to the Maegor suite. 

He nodded, and followed her down to the entrance hall, where they ran into Aegon. He was in trunks and an unbuttoned shirt to show off the tan on his abs.

He glanced between them with a strange look in his eye. “Beach?”

“Sounds good!” she said with a bright smile. “I just need to get some stuff from my room.”

Aegon grinned at her, then at his brother.

“I’m good, thanks,” Aemond grumbled, and went to spend the rest of the day sulking in his room.

Something was different about her after that. She stopped asking so many questions and rather than smile at him when they passed each other in the hallways she sighed and put her head down.

He really didn’t have much experience with these kinds of things, and he sure in seven hells wasn’t going to ask Aegon for advice. 

He wished there was something he could do, but every time he thought about trying to talk to her he pictured her eyes on his scar and decided he’d rather spare her the trouble.

August went by far too quickly and then she was gone.

His time at the University of Oldtown brought some interesting experiences.

People seemed to respect him in a way he wasn’t used to. His lecturers complimented his work and his commitment to his studies. His classmates listened to him when he spoke in seminars, asked for his opinions on current affairs and invited him to lunches and parties. 

He felt like a novelty in Oldtown, people wanted to befriend him, be seen with him, earn his approval. He felt shallow for admitting it, but the newfound attention felt good.

When he went back to King’s Landing that first summer, everyone said he was different. He’d always been interested in sports but he’d committed to a gym routine, shed some of the baby fat and toned out nicely. He traded the trackies and sports trainers for black shirts and leather jackets, got his ears pierced, drank whisky and smoked cigarettes on nights out.

And it turned out he wasn’t as hideous as he thought he was, in fact more often than not, the scar worked in his favour when it came to flirting. 

After graduating he spent the summer in Oldtown, on an internship at Beacon, until Alicent told him she needed him in King’s Landing. She needed a contender of her own to pose as Viserys’ successor against Rhaenyra, and it was obvious neither Aegon or Helaena were going to live up to her expectations. So he did as he was told and moved back home, just in time for everything to start going wrong.

Viserys made his will. Rhaenyra was set to inherit Targ Corp and just about everything else he owned, including Dragonstone. Fucking typical. She had always been his golden child, all that was left of his beloved first wife. His mother always said he never got over Aemma. Singling out Rhaenyra was his way of making it up to her.

But Alicent had been the one helping Viserys run Targ Corp for twenty years, while Rhaenyra’s only real talent was her ability to get whatever she wanted out of their father.

If Rhaenyra were to succeed Viserys, everything his mother had worked for would be for nothing, but Aemond could be the one to change that. He could bring Targ Corp to new heights and live up to the legacy of the Targaryen name. All he needed was for Viserys to give him that chance.

Alicent had been in talks with Borros Baratheon of Storm’s End, an energy company based in the Stormlands. A deal with them would open Targ Corp to a whole new industry, and maybe then Viserys would recognise the lapse in judgement. 

The Storm’s End contract was everything and Alicent had trusted Aemond to see it through. Only it fell apart in his hands. One seemingly minor mistake and Baratheon was out.

Alicent was devastated and it killed him. The late nights and weekends working in the office when she should have been with her children, the constant spite and security from the corporate world, the tabloid news stories that called her a “gold digger,” and the years she spent chasing her husband’s approval had all been for nothing.

She never said it, but Aemond knew she blamed him.

It had been a shitty three months and by December he was exhausted. Daeron was back from Duskendale, Aegon was staying for a few weeks, and Helaena was adamant that they were going to have an enjoyable Christmas. She covered the house in fairy lights and put up a tree in the living room, decorated with colourful baubles that really had nothing to do with Christmas; rainbows, butterflies and bees. 

The other three agreed to indulge her. Aegon suddenly became an expert at Christmas cocktails, Daeron was in a baking frenzy and Aemond put his old piano lessons to good use. He sat at the baby grand in the hallway for the first time in forever and played some old hymns mum used to make them sing. Until Aegon put the chords for Fairytale of New York in front of him, which he agreed was a much better song.

Alicent came in from the office on the 24th, rain soaked through her coat and her eyes red. She’d had a call from Lyonel Strong.

Harwin was in the hospital. Pancreatic cancer. He’d been ignoring the symptoms for years apparently, and by the time Rhaneyra made him get a diagnosis it was too late.

Nothing was an isolated issue. Mum, dad, Rhaenyra, work… everything fed off each other in a single spiral of chaos and grief.

He needed the space, he decided at a fundraiser on New Years Eve. He and Viserys had arrived together but they didn’t so much as make eye contact the entire night. Rhaenyra was understandably inconsolable, mum had refused to go, Helaena wasn’t cut out for these kinds of events and Daeron was studying for mock exams. He at least found solace in the knowledge that he was preferable to Aegon.

A woman with black hair caught his attention. She moved effortlessly throughout the room, martini in hand, which she sipped through dark red lips as she struck up conversations with the other attendees. Did she realise she was targeting the richest people in the room? Probably. She blended in well, in a black slip dress and a pearl necklace, but there was something else, glaring him right in the face.

She was familiar, but he couldn’t place where he might have seen her before.

She smirked when she realised he was staring at her. After ordering herself another drink she waltzed over to him and introduced herself as “Alys Rivers.”

He must have let a little of his shock show on his face, because she smirked again.

Alys Rivers. Harwin’s cousin. The woman with the pretty daughter who’d spent a summer at Dragonstone.

They chatted for hours, she was very curious to hear about the company politics at Targ Corp, the few months he’d been working there and the whole debacle with the Storm’s End contract. She told him about herself too. She worked for Harrenhal PR, alongside her brothers, but was looking to start her own company.

He asked about Harwin. 

That was the only time her perfect persona faltered, just for a moment, but then she took a sip of her drink and she was back to business. She said she was doing alright. It was a shock, he was like a brother to her, and she was trying to make the most of the moments she had left with him.

“It makes you appreciate what you have,” she said. They had found a table in a corner of the bar, ordering too many cocktails. She sighed heavily and put her hand on her chest, over her heart, “I’m so lucky I’ve got my darling girl.”

He didn’t even need to ask before she started telling him more. She was in her second year of studying history at KLU, a bright student, a sweet and serious girl.

She said Harwin adored her, always had, even once things got serious with Rhaenyra and he started having kids of his own.

“Poor thing,” he said, “this must all be so hard on her.”

“She’s like me,” Alys insisted, finishing off another martini. Her words were starting to slur, but even when she was drunk she did it gracefully. “Nothing phases her.”

He could still remember the smell of her perfume, sweet and citrusy.

Alys’s perfume was dark, bitter and boozy. When he kissed her the taste of her martinis burned on his tongue. Vodka. He was more of a gin man.

Generally he tried to avoid one night stands, but it didn’t take much convincing before he found himself in her hotel room.

He spent the entire night on his back while she edged him relentlessly, with her hands and her mouth, before she finally rode him, whispering praises in his ear as she did it. 

He decided it would be bad manners not to text her, so the following Friday night, they went to a steakhouse on Conquest street. It felt more like a business meeting than a date, they talked more about Targ Corp and her plans for her own PR firm. She had the ambition and industry knowledge, but needed the strategy and the connections to make it work. 

“You and I could be a match made in heaven,” he said.

She paused midway through a sip of red wine, and raised her eyebrow ever so slightly. “I don’t usually go for younger men,” she said, “but you’re smart and uncomplicated. I think we could work something out.”

The line between business and pleasure was non-existent. They looked over contracts and business plans over coffee, accompanied each other to conferences and fucked in hotel rooms. She was straightforward, blunt at times but he found it impressive and refreshing. He never had to guess what she was thinking because she didn’t see the point in trying to hide behind niceties. Every time he complimented her confidence she said it was “a consequence of age.”

Things moved faster than he realised. Suddenly winter was turning into spring and Alys asked him to work for Rivers PR full time. 

He found the wherewithal to tell Alicent and Viserys on a rare occasion that his father actually bothered to eat with them. He tried to be as casual as he could about his sabbatical from Targ Corp. It ended with an explosive row over the dinner table, leaving both Helaena and his mother in tears. Viserys was still shouting from the hallway as he packed an overnight bag and stormed out to his car.

He had to call three times before Aegon finally picked up. “Good for you!” his brother cheered down the end of the phone. “Who would have thought you’d end up like this though? Six months ago you were mum’s favourite son.”

“She just kept telling me I was selfish,” Aemond said, first the Storm’s End contract and now this. “And apparently Rhaenyra’s been up in arms about Alys branching off from Harrenhal, especially with everything that’s going on with Harwin.”

“Will you go to hers then?”

He was already heading towards central. “That’s why I called, I need somewhere to stay, I thought you could put me up for a bit.”

Aegon drew out an exaggerated “uhh,” and Aemond hung up, not in the mood to listen to some long winded excuse.

He gripped the steering wheel as he came to a junction and a sign for Queen’s Park. So much for being “uncomplicated.”

Alys was in a silk robe when she opened the door. “Mummy and daddy kicked you out?” she asked with a pouty frown.

He insisted he had left of his own accord.

It was a beautiful terraced house, plaster fronted, overlooking the park. The interior was understated and elegant, dark wood floors, white walls and bursts of muted greens.

It was quiet too, and the only light came from the kitchen.

“Where’s–”

“She’s out with a few friends,” Alys said.

He followed her through to the kitchen, where she poured out two glasses of wine and he told her everything. 

By the time he was done she had finished her glass. She looked into it, like she was surprised to see that it was empty. He hadn’t touched his. 

“Are you planning on staying for long?” she asked.

For a moment he felt stupid for coming to her at all. He couldn’t quite figure out what they were to each other, and suddenly he was showing up on her doorstep and using her like a therapist. 

“I called Aegon first but I think he’s busy. I can be gone in the morning if you want.”

She took hold of his shoulder, stroking her thumb over the fabric of his shirt. “You can stay as long as you need to.”

He looked at her. He was used to her expression being so smug and severe, but she looked gentle now, her eyes wide and full of pity. When he took a shallow breath he realised she was wearing the same, dark perfume from New Years.

He kissed her slowly, nudging his nose against hers and slipping a hand around her waist to pull her in closer.

She chuckled softly as she pulled away. “I’ll be off early in the morning. Take some time if you need to, sort something out with Aegon or…”

“Right,” he said, swallowing down the lingering taste of red wine from her lips.

They slept in her bed, with their backs to each other.

When he woke in the morning Alys was gone. He checked the time on his phone, 8am, and he had a text from her: Help yourself to coffee. Let me know what your plan is.

He threw on a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants before he headed downstairs. He quickly figured out his way around the expensive coffee machine and settled on a stool at the island with a cup of black coffee.

His hands were restless, tapping against the coffee cup and the counter top. 

She was in the same house as him, probably sound asleep upstairs, though he hadn’t heard anyone come in during the night. Did she know he was here? She must have seen the car outside, but she wouldn’t know it was his. 

He’d hardly even considered the possibility of seeing her again until now, but he hadn’t expected things with to Alys to go this far.

He looked down at his phone. Maybe staying with Alys wasn’t such a good idea. He started typing out a text to Aegon when he heard the door to the kitchen open.

“Hello again.”

She stood in the doorway, squinting her eyes at him, hair loose and tousled, in nothing but an overused Black Sabbath t-shirt that covered the tops of her thighs. She looked a little dishevelled and utterly perfect.

“Hi,” Aemond said, putting his phone down and reaching for his cup. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, I got a text from mum. She said she had a guest and I was free to ignore him or kick him out.”

“Have you decided which?”

She huffed a laugh and there was that smile again, though not as wide as it had been that summer. “I felt like being nosy,” she said. 

She moved towards the sink and filled a glass of water, which she finished in one go, with a sound of satisfaction. She drew the tip of her tongue between her lips and set the glass on the counter before she turned to look at him again. “So you’re mum’s new boytoy?”

“Is that what she calls me?” he said, trying to play off the tight feeling in his chest with a small smirk.

“She doesn’t call you anything, actually. She’s been going on these little dates, calling them ‘work calls’ and hoping I won’t notice.”

“How do you know they’re not work calls?”

“I wouldn’t have until she brought you home with her.”

“That was my fault…” he looked down at his coffee. He was convinced he could already feel the caffeine buzzing in his fingertips.

“You look different,” she said.

His eyes shot back to her. “How so?”

“Your hair’s longer. It makes you look older.”

He raised an eyebrow and smiled at the way she recoiled into herself.

“I meant it as a compliment, honest.”

She looked different too. Her face hadn’t changed much from what he could remember, but mostly he noticed that she seemed more subdued. Her eyes were set in dark circles and they weren’t as wide, and when she wasn’t speaking her lips fell slightly. She looked older, but then how long had it been since Dragonstone? More than three years, less than four. 

She told him where everything was in the kitchen, which he could have figured out himself but he didn’t want to interrupt her. She asked how long he was going to stay and he said until he heard back from Aegon.

That turned out to be a week later, and by then Alys insisted she liked having him around.

Initially he looked at a few rentals, which Alys discouraged and insisted he should buy his own place. Between work and the daily mass of texts he was getting from his siblings about Targ Corp and their parents, he couldn’t find the time to truly consider it.

It was easy to fall into a routine with Alys. She left for work earlier than him so he took his own car every morning. Everyone at the office guessed they were ‘together’ but they kept things professional. If he so much as put a hand on her shoulder she scared him off with a warning look. She always stayed later than him so he’d go back to the house, sort out dinner and have it waiting for when the girls got home.

The girls. He was going domestic.

She only had lectures a few times a week and when she was at home she stayed in her bedroom, only occasionally bringing a book down to the garden or the lounge while he worked in the kitchen. He wondered if she was avoiding him. Considering the awful impression he made at Dragonstone, he didn’t blame her. 

But eventually she started to warm up to him. They found some common interests and small talk turned into in-depth discussions of history and politics and their favourite films and albums. She loved Mazzy Star especially. Sometimes, when he had the house to himself, he’d listen through their albums and imagine her listening to the same songs.

He soon learned just how elusive Alys could be. She always had something going on, a work event, a conference or even trips to Pentos with her old uni friends. When she was at home she was usually in the study on the top floor of the house, on a call, looking over contracts or managing some kind of crisis that only she could solve. If he joined her on work trips it was by her invitation.

So he often found himself alone with her. Movie nights became a weekly ritual, usually late in the week, and every week they seemed to sit a little closer to each other than before.

One night she fell asleep against him. His arm was around the back of the sofa and her head gently fell against his chest.

He wasn’t sure what to do, if he should wake her, but she looked so peaceful with her eyes closed, lips parted and breath fluttering down the collar of his t-shirt. Her body was warm and she was wearing that same citrusy perfume. 

He wanted to keep her there. He could lie down, hold her in his arms and fall asleep pressed into her back.

Guilt told him otherwise. So he moved away from her, as carefully as he could, and guided her to lie fully on the sofa with a pillow under her head and a blanket draped over her body.

Alys came in from a dinner sometime after 1am and slipped wordlessly into her side of the bed. Within minutes he could hear her gentle snores.

He closed his eyes but he didn’t sleep. All he could think about was her breath on his chest, the way her shorts had ridden up her thighs, and that fucking perfume. 

He was probably just tired, getting excited by some old crush which he was way past by now. He was sure he would forget about it by the morning.

If only it had ended there.

By the time spring came around she had warmed up to him. They spent Sunday mornings drinking coffee together in the garden and went for drives out to Blackwater Bay. They had inside jokes and talked about their families. Some nights she’d come crying to him over uni, arguments with her mother and a stupid boy who broke her heart. She was so pretty when she cried.

When she asked him to help her with a particular exam he couldn’t help himself. He noticed everything about their study sessions together, the way she shuddered when he put a hand on her shoulder, the way her breath hitched when he praised her.

His heart swelled when she came home from that exam with a wide smile, throwing herself into his arms and telling him all the details she could remember. Her eyes were so bright and gazing up at him almost adoringly. 

He was so happy for her, and so proud.

She didn’t pull away when he kissed her. She met him with soft touches to his neck and a hummed whimper that threatened to spark something primal in him. 

They smiled at each other when it was over, until the haze started to wear off. He cleared his throat, and muttered that he still had work to do. She nodded but they kept staring at each other, his hands on her waist and hers drifting down from his neck to his chest.

She was the first to step away. He watched her disappear through the door and wondered how he had managed to make such a mess of his life.

For the entirety of the next week he couldn’t get that muffled whimper out of his head.

Every time he saw her he wanted to drag her into him and kiss her again, harsher, hungrier, with his hands tracing over every inch of her body. 

He told himself he was being stupid and he just needed an outlet. For the most part, he and Alys doing well together, but on the few occasions they actually fucked he found the novelty of being beneath her was starting to wear off. 

Frustratingly, everything else seemed to be working well for him. He was good at his job; working for Rivers PR was certainly helping to distract him from his family and the company was thriving. He didn’t have to put up with his parents and the Rivers girls seemed happy enough to have him around. The only problem left was him.

In June Alys was accompanying a client on a trip to Dorne, a few days in Salt Shore, Lemonwood and then a week in Sunspear. Aemond wasn’t sure if he was elated or dreading her absence. Every time he’d been around her lately he held his breath, waiting for her to realise something was wrong.

She remained perfectly normal though. Her exams were finished and she had an internship at Lion Publishing lined up for the month of August. In the meantime she was living life as she pleased, lunch dates and picnics in the park with her friends, but she spent a lot of time at home too, mostly reading or writing in a leatherbound notebook.

The kiss was a mistake. A stupid mistake. He kept looking for a chance to talk to her, but decided it might be best until Alys was away.

Alys’ flight was due on a Friday evening and he dropped her off in the afternoon. They sat in silence for most of the journey but silence wasn’t a rarity for them.

When they reached the airport they both went to take the bags out the boot.

“I’m a big girl, I can manage,” she said dryly, but that was just her sense of humour. 

“I don’t doubt it,” he said.

She set her suitcase by her side and slipped her arm through her Prada tote bag. “The two of you can look after yourselves well enough,” she said, fussing with the collar of her blouse. “I don’t need to tell you not to answer the door to strangers or anything?”

He smiled unenthusiastically. “No.”

With her eyes one the pavement, she brought her fingers to the styled waves of her hair, bringing a few tresses over her shoulder.

“She’s fond of you,” she said. “I know I can’t always be there for her when she needs me, but I know you helped her with that exam and I appreciate it.” There was no sign of shortness or irritation like there usually was when she spoke about anything remotely personal. She was being sincere and it just made him feel worse.

“Don’t mention it,” he said.

She shrugged her shoulders and the businesswoman was back. “Right then. I’d give you a kiss goodbye but I have lipstick on.”

How devastatingly practical, as always. She threw an arm around his shoulder and he pecked her cheek before she headed for the terminal, quickly and gracefully, heels clicking against the ground. 

He had plans to meet Helaena for dinner at a restaurant in central. With her mother out the way, she had invited a few friends to celebrate the end of exams and he figured she’d appreciate the space.

He didn’t realise how much he missed not living with his sister until he saw her. That was the downside of the new circumstances, he never got to see his siblings as much as he wanted to.

Helaena asked him about Alys and her, how they were dealing with Harwin still in the hospital. He told her the truth, they didn’t really talk about it much, but by that point it was a matter of waiting for the inevitable.

Apparently Rhaenyra was a mess. She would be. Her husband was dying, she had three kids to look after and Harrenhal PR was falling to pieces now that Larys was in charge and Alys had poached half of their best clients.

Helaena was exhausted. She was getting ready to start a PhD in Highgarden and she should have been excited, but she hardly had the wherewithal to think about it with Alicent and Viserys’ constant rowing. At least Daeron would be back in a few more days so she wouldn’t be the only child at the house.

“Are you coming to Dragonstone this year?” she asked.

He took a telling breath through his nose and finished off his glass of wine.

“Aemond, please, it won’t be the same without you.”

He scoffed. “No one wants me there.”

She frowned at him with those sad blue eyes of hers. “Don’t say that.”

“Did you know mum hasn’t called me once since I left? It’s been five months. Do you really think I can just show up and we’ll play happy families then go back to hating each other when we get home?”

Her face twisted like she might start crying. 

“Sorry I just–” he held his forehead in his hands and dragged them back over his hair. He didn’t want to think about Dragonstone, it just made him think of her.

He felt her hand gently take his wrist and guide it down to the table so she could see his face. 

“What’s up with you?” she asked.

“Nothing. I’m just tired.”

She raised her eyebrows and hummed like she didn’t believe him.

It wasn’t long after 10pm when he got back to the house. He heard voices and giggles in the front lounge. He walked softly through the hallway and slowed when he came to the door.

“... that’s always been a fantasy of mine.”

“Jo, you’re sick.”

“Oh step-daddy!”

Laughter followed, with a few disbelieving sighs. He recognised her laugh, and made out two other distinct voices. He guessed they hadn’t heard him come in.

“Is he hot though?”

He listened for a reply but she stayed quiet.

“Oh come on! I bet you’ve thought about it.”

“No.” She said it so simply he almost believed her. 

He moved through to the kitchen intending to get some water. There were two empty pizza boxes and an assortment of empty wine bottles on the kitchen island. He went to clean them up when the door opened.

“Hi,” she said softly. Her face was dewy and a little flushed. “I didn’t hear the door.”

“I only just got in,” he said, “don’t worry I didn’t hear anything incriminating.”

She tilted her head at him with a slightly dazed smile. She looked gorgeous and the pair of jeans she wore fit her perfectly. 

She refilled the glasses from a new bottle and nodded to an empty glass on the counter. “Do you want to join us?”

“Only if you want me to.”

“I wouldn’t have asked otherwise,” she said.

He followed her through to the lounge, bringing the glass and the bottle with him. 

Before he opened the door she leaned into him and whispered, “don’t worry, Margarey has work tomorrow and Jo’s waiting for her boyfriend so they won’t stay long.”

Margaery and Joanna were effortlessly charming but he distrusted them for being law students. They both grinned when he sat on the sofa by the window and were eager to ask him about his time in Oldtown and his job.

Joanna kept glancing over to her, but she remained unphased until Margarey mentioned Targ Corp. Her face slowly fell in irritation. He found it quite endearing.

“So why did you leave?” Joanna asked, “it was something to do with Viserys’ will, right?”

“It’s none of your business, is it?” she said shortly.

Aemond gave her a quick smile to let her know it was alright and she settled back to contentment.  

Just as she said, they were both gone before midnight. She saw them to the door and when she came back to the lounge she fell beside him with her legs against his and her head on his shoulder.

“Did you have a nice evening?” he asked. If he turned his head just a little further his lips would brush against her temple.

“Really lovely,” she sighed.

He considered asking about the kiss, but she was definitely tipsy and just sitting with her was too peaceful. He couldn’t bring himself to disturb the moment and the sound of her breathing. 

Her fingers began to trace up over the fabric of his shirt, up and down over his stomach and the lines of his abs underneath.

He put his hand over hers to stop her, but somehow it only seemed to spur his own want. He closed his hand around her, tracing his thumb over her knuckles.

She shifted her head so she was looking at him and her breath echoed over his neck. 

She leaned in first. Their lips met with gentle grazes, just feeling each other and breathing the same air. 

Gradually they deepened their movements. Her tongue slipped into his mouth and he melted at her softness and her warmth. He cupped her jaw to pull her into him despite the gnawing feeling in his chest, like he was getting too close, like he could never get close enough.

She started to move and he tried to keep hold of her, expecting her to slip from his grasp, until he felt her weight on his lap. She straddled him, wrapping her hands around the sides of his neck and threading her fingers through his hair. She gave him another dazed little smile before she continued to kiss him fiercely, desperately.

It was a bad idea. It was such a bad idea, but for now he would take the guilt if he got to feel her like this, her lips trailing along his jaw and down his neck, her heavy breaths and whimpers as she started to rock her hips against him.

He reached to take hold of her hips, moving with her at first before he set a new, steadier pace, dragging her against the tightening bulge in his jeans. “You alright there, pet?” he hummed.

She nudged her forehead against his. “Please can you just…” her eyes followed her hands as she propped herself against his chest. 

“What do you want, baby?” he whispered.

She let out a whine that went straight to his cock.

“Come on,” he hissed, “talk to me.”

She clenched her fists to tug at his shirt. “I want you,” she breathed.

He strained an exhale as he tried to stop his hips from bucking into her. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” he said with a groan, but he was already trying to rationalise it.

She could be the outlet, just once, just to get it out of his system. 

“No it’s not, but I still want you,” she said.

Or maybe it didn’t have to be about him. He could just give her what she needed.

“Please,” she whined trying to fight against his hold on her hips, “I want you so bad, it fucking hurts.”

“Oh you poor thing,” he cooed, moving his face down to tease the skin of her throat with his lips and tongue. 

He knew they were on the cusp of something dangerous and damning, but it was her, the girl from that summer, the girl with the pretty smile and the curious look in her eyes, Alys’ daughter. 

When he looked up to her face her eyes were wide and pleading.

Maybe he felt he owed it to a younger version of himself, or maybe it was the wine he’d had at the restaurant but he couldn’t bring himself to care about the consequences. 

He pressed his palm against her stomach, feeling her body tremble and her quick, shallow breaths. He trailed lower to undo the buttons on her jeans. “Take these off for me,” he muttered.

She didn’t hesitate to follow his instruction. She drew the jeans down her legs, leaving her in her top and a black thong. He told her to straddle him again, which she did. 

With firm but gentle hands he felt along the bare flesh of her thighs and her ass, positioning her over his thigh. He pulled the thong against her until she was squirming and trying to rut against his jeans.

He chuckled softly to himself and held her waist tightly to keep her still, and she followed the silent instruction so well. She was panting, leaning in closer to him, but waiting for his lead. He was slightly scared of how much he loved it.

He brought his hand to her cheek, stroking and toying with her bottom lip. “Do you want to be good for me?” he whispered.

She hummed her agreement. 

“Fuck yourself against my thigh, pretty girl, show me how desperate you are.”

With a small nod she started to move, letting out little moans when her clothed clit rolled against his leg.

He kept her movements slow, even when she tried to fight against him and go faster.

“No,” he said, “be a good girl for me, do as you’re told.”

The pace was agonising for her, eyes screwed shut and jaw hung open as her hands got restless, running over his jaw, his neck and into his hair.

He kept her steady and pressed her down against his jeans with each drag of her hips, playing with the change in pressure and smiling at the way it made her whine and her eyes water.

“Aemond… I need more…”

He still kept the movements nice and slow. “Just let it happen– there you go, good fucking girl.”

She didn’t hold back her moans as her climax hit her, tensing hard and falling into him. He kept her moving through it, until her thighs were shaking and she begged him to stop.

He was sure he’d never been so hard in his life, but he held her there, breathing in the smell of her hair and her perfume.

Then he brought her away from him so he could see her face, beautifully blissed out. There was that light, hopeful feeling in his chest, but it was starting to crumble under the realisation of what they’d done.

“Is that actually a thing, the step-daddy thing?” he asked.

She huffed a breathy laugh. “According to Jo it is. Why, do you want me to call you daddy?”

He wouldn’t admit it then, but he liked the way it sounded coming from her.

General Taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy

Series Taglist: @marthawrites @urmomsgirlfriend1 @aaaaaamond @boundlessfantasy @sahvlran @tinykryptonitewerewolf @arcielee @tssf-imagines @aemondsfavouritebastard @skikikikiikhhjuuh @queenofshinigamis @lost-and-founds @izzydlb @dc-marvel-girl96 @xcinnamonmalfoyx @padfooteyes @castellomargot @pet1t3 @okfashionista @khaothick