#contract wood chairs

[aaafurniture]

The Ultimate Guide to Choosing Between Contract Wood Chairs and Metal Chairs

The Ultimate Guide to Choosing Between Contract Wood Chairs and Metal Chairs

[uncookedfeeler]

Citrus II🍋

Yuna x Reader

Tags : 7k, smut, incest, daddy kink,

Part 1

Five past eight in the morning, you arrive in front of your company, after having crossed a few blocks in the capital, at the automatic barrier, you wave to the guards to say hello and make your way to the underground car park, of course you have reserved your own space, not far from the lift, the privilege of having an important place in the company, you say to yourself; once the car has stopped, your bag in hand, you walk at a brisk pace to the lift and press the button for your floor.

Your impatience and shame are growing, you're late, which is far from your usual routine, especially when your president is probably waiting for you in your office. The reason for your lateness is even more shameful, but you're determined to put these thoughts aside during the working day.

Once you are on your floor, you pass through a second glass door, which you open with your badge. In the corner is the office of your secretary, who stands up to greet you and to warn you that the CEO is already in your office, just as you had expected.

"Hello Mrs Kang, and thank you, how long has he been here?"

"Not long, he arrived 5 minutes ago, he seems to be smiling, I think you'll be fine," she replies with a nervous smile, "would you like me to make some coffees and bring them to you?"

"No need, I'll do it myself, otherwise nothing else for the rest of the day? "

"There's a lot of paperwork to do today after the president leaves, your meetings don't start until this afternoon". You give her a thumbs up before putting your hands on the latch of your door. 

Your office was a modern space filled with clean lines and muted tones. A large executive desk dominated the room; behind it, tall windows filtered soft daylight through half-drawn blinds, while recessed lights softly illuminated the dark wood cabinets lining the back wall. In the corner, a pair of white armchairs and a sofa were accented by a single red cushion.

Across from you is your chairman, a middle-aged man with short grey hair and a warm smile. His face has visible wrinkles, particularly around the eyes, suggesting a friendly mood. He is wearing a formal dark suit and tie.

“I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr Ahn,” you say, bowing 90° to him.

"Ha ha, hello director, there's no need to be so formal, just get up and sit down,”he says, pointing with both hands to the seat in front of him. 

“Thank you, would you like a coffee while I'm up?”

“A short one then, my wife says I drink too much.”

You walk over to your desk and behind your chair is a piece of furniture that runs the full height of the wall, on top of which are various decorations, including your personal coffee machine.

“They all say that, but a good machine needs its fuel to work properly, doesn't it?”

“Absolutely.”

A few minutes pass as you place your respective coffees on the table between you, warning him that they are still very hot.

“I heard about the new contracts with JYP, good work Director Shin, I imagine it must have taken a lot of negotiation, they're notoriously difficult to do business with.”

“You could say that, it's not the first time they've worked with a cosmetics company like us, and it seems that their previous partnerships haven't been very successful, but with the work of the whole team, I think we've convinced them to count on us.”

“We still don't know the names of the models who will be wearing our products? if they match our latest collections well, I think it would be a great boost to our sales.”

“No information on that, the TWICE girls would be perfect, they embody the mid-twenties woman and seem to have finally lost their all-cute and pink ribbon image.”

As you finish your sentence, you see the chairman smiling after taking a sip of his coffee.

"Really good coffee, and why not ITZY, I'm sure they could certainly manage it too", the President smiles obviously as he mentions the group to which your daughter belongs.

"Yes, I'm sure", you reply with a touch of humour, the President knows very well who your daughter is and the joke shows how close you are to him.

"By the way, how is your daughter, she's appearing all over the country, she really seems to be riding on her popularity, you must be very proud of her".

"Sure, I try to keep up with her, although it's not as easy as it sounds, I imagine she'd be surprised to model for our company, I doubt she knows where I work or my position," you say with regret in your voice.

"Raising a daughter is not easy, I'll give you that, my older daughter... "Before he can finish, your phone rings to tell you that you've received a message with an attachment.

"When we were talking about the wolf, she sent me a message, sorry, go on, sir," you say, trying to get the conversation going again.

"Take your time, it's important to maintain a relationship with your children, especially when they've left home," he replies, leaning back on the sofa to take a step back.

After unlocking your phone, you click on the notification to open Yuna's message, which contains a link to a video and the message "how to grow my lemons", the link takes you to the streaming site Yuna uses and a replay starts :

"I've talked about this before, but the other day I took two lemons home to my parents that I've been growing for a long time, I'm not very good at it, so I asked my dad for help, he worked hard on them yesterday, you should have seen him, he played with them first and then he watered them generously, I think he's learning as much as I am, so I looked up on the internet how to grow them properly:

- First you need to stir the soil well with your fingers or a tool, then you need to push the seeds in deeply until they reach the end, then you need to water the soil regularly with love to increase the chances of getting a big lemon.

My two lemons have already grown well, so I'm wondering if I shouldn't put in a new seed to make a third, much bigger than the others," she said as she finished her explanation, stroking her stomach several times each time the word seed was mentioned.

Your promise to keep your impure thoughts out of your workplace, but Yuna's provocation, so innocent at first, is dangerously immoral and exciting in the right context.

"Your daughter seems to have found a passion for gardening, which is rare for young people who have only known the capital and its huge buildings," the President replies in an amused tone. 

"However, I wonder if young women have an attraction for fruity things, it brings a sweet and innocent side while retaining the exotic taste of a sweet and strong flavour, should we explore this avenue for our products?" he asked, he's the President after all, so business comes first for him. 

"It's hard to say, I know she had a shoot with different fruits as a concept, she doesn't quite fit the image of a young teenager, but an entry-level range for young girls with products that are easy to apply and discreet or even fragrant could be a target".

Another message appears on your screen with only the text ‘Now you know how to do it 💦🍋’.

The shock is quite brutal, you would never have imagined that your daughter would be so direct with you on this subject, after all you only really resumed your father-daughter relationship yesterday, the difference in personality between the nice, almost innocent girl you had yesterday and this morning and now, where she doesn't hesitate to tease you in public or by text message, a part of you hopes that she is just doing it for fun and not to satisfy you for fear of being abandoned again.

At no point do you want to force her down a path that won't make her happy, you've already thrown away your morals for her, now her happiness is your only concern, her wishes are your orders and pleasing your princess remains your goal in life.

You thank her for the guide and send her a sticker of a cat blowing kisses, followed by an 'I love you'. You put your phone back in your pocket to resume your conversation with your CEO as the clock ticks.

.

"I think we're done, I've really enjoyed this chat, I knew I could count on you to come up with new ideas, would you like to join the monthly review of their project, let's bring them the seed of your future fruity project," as the President stands up and walks towards the door.

"Sure, I'm following you"

.

.

.

The meeting has seemed endless, the chair and the others have taken it in turns to stimulate the discussion with their ideas, and what was supposed to be a simple project review has turned into a kick-off meeting for your project. It's past lunchtime and you've just returned to your office, completely drained of energy and with an appetite that's starting to grow. However, your position in the company means that with a simple phone call you can have a member of the kitchen staff come to your floor with your food.

"Knock, knock" 

"You can come in"

"Morning, Director Shin, here's your lunch," says an athletic-looking young man as he places it on your desk.

"Sorry for the inconvenience, I've had a busy morning and my legs need a rest," you say in a moment of weakness.

"No, no, no problem, sir, I'll come back for the tray later, enjoy your meal". The young man leaves your office in a hurry.

As you pounced on your meal like a hungry hyena, this break being one of the rare moments when you let your invasive curiosity take over, you grabbed the mouse of your computer to open the search browser and typed in the name of your company as well as your first name, you had this strong feeling that you knew what was being said about you or your company, public opinion is important and you were also worried about letting your bad reputation tarnish that of your daughter in case of problems at work.

And although you didn't show her much, it was also your ritual to follow your daughter's career. All these years you have been following her journey as an adult in the industry, and it fills you with pride that today your daughter's name still appears at the top of the search rankings.

Her latest Instagram post seems to have set the internet on fire, as you click on the top trending link to see a series of photos of her in the bathroom of your house, her hair flaming red, her make-up perfectly applied to her face and her brown eyes piercing through the mirror. She's wearing a lovely black and white tank top and I'm sure you'll agree that she looks absolutely fucking gorgeous in these photos, the comments are flooding in with praise for her look, despite the occasional haters, but nothing new.

You quickly take out your phone to leave a message for your princess: 

"I've just seen your photos, you're as beautiful as ever," while attaching a photo of the article you took with your phone. Once you've sent the message, you go back to your meal and your thoughts take over, you realise that this kind of little intention would have started from the beginning of her career, the simple fact of exchanging with your child and the feeling that comes from it soothes your heart and too bad if you become a clingy dad, you're going to tell her every day.

You're suddenly brought back to reality when your phone displays a notification saying that she's replied to you with a simple :

"Hihi thank you 😛, look at my little present", while a second message appears with a still blurred image, followed by a third in the conversation, Yuna had sent it as sensitive content, so you have to click on it to view it, and you're far from imagining what's revealed before your eyes: the last message served as a description with the words:  

"it was just after the shower when i was getting ready to go to the company, my little lemons have turned into cherries, all i need now is your big seed 🍒" the photo is taken from a higher angle where your daughter lifts her top to reveal her small breasts and the many hickey marks still present on her body, Her left breast and nipple are well marked by your mouth, not forgetting that she's not wearing anything, and you can see her little bush underneath, with a comment at the bottom: "To 🍼 my 🧔🏻, He must 🍼 my 😻 first".

At that moment, your cock springs to attention in a flash, it shoots up through your trousers and slams against your belly, any man knows that pain and it's far from pleasant, you loosen your belt to give your raging member a little slack, this little minx knew what to do to excite someone and the hours were going to be long from now on.

The rest of the day goes by slowly, you don't dare take out your phone for fear of getting into an embarrassing situation, you still feel some vibrations in the afternoon, but like a good professional you don't even look, the hours go by until the beginning of the evening, you leave your office and go to the underground car park, you make the effort to look at your phone and all you get are trivial messages, You're a little disappointed because you were secretly hoping for more messages from Yuna, halfway there you find yourself stuck in traffic on the road and you decide to call Yuna to find out how her day went, she answers almost immediately but doesn't answer your question, but you can hear the girls chatting as if she had picked up the phone and put it on a table.

You wonder what kind of phone she uses to get such good quality, the girls' voices are easily recognisable and the sound is as if you were in the room with them.

Yeji: "Ugh, yesterday's shoot was so chaotic! I swear we almost lost our minds trying to get the perfect angle".

Lia: "I know, right? I thought we were going to end up on a blooper reels. Remember when we all turned the wrong way during that one scene?

Ryujin: "Yeah, and Yuna was the only one who actually turned the right way! I guess she has an 'inner compass' or something..."

Yuna: "Hey! I just knew what to do! Plus you stole my concept, remember!"

Yeji: "I mean, you didn't mind talking about it online, you even mentioned your dad again, you're such a daddy girl after all"

Yuna: "Not you too! Can we please not talk about my 'daddy issues' again?"

Chaeryeong: "We can't help it! It's just so weird how you don't even look at all the sexy boys around us, I wonder what you do with all those pictures of him you snatch from the internet".

Lia: “'Even though we know what she's doing, she's acting cold towards him, but in the end it makes you hot, doesn't it? you should at least try dating someone, we've all done it so far and it's like, we're not asking you to sleep with them, just get some dating experience”

Chaeryeong: “Easy Lia-unnie, you're the one taking selfies with your exes' dicks in your mouth aren't you? they never fucked you anyway so keep your advice to yourself”

Chaeryeong:“Yuna, listen, we're not forcing you to do anything, but try to use your youth to meet people, it's weird to see you alone at home all the time.”

Yuna: “Unnie, that's not the problem, I'm just afraid of being rejected and I don't know how to tell him how I feel about him, we haven't been very close since mum left”.

Ryujin: “He's your dad Yuna, of course you love him in your own way, let's just say, just tell him and you'll be free of this burden, then we can go and pick up some hot guys backstage”.

Yeji: “I don't think she likes you getting fucked in the toilets when the newbies show up, same goes for you Chaeryoung, no one's putting any pressure on Yuna, right?”

Lia: “Easy for you to say when you're being fucked by your childhood sweetheart, we're not so lucky to have someone who loves us for something other than our bodies”.

Yuna: "It hurts, doesn't it? Aren't you afraid of getting pregnant?"

Ryujin: "'Are you kidding? Wait, you've never...? not even with the toys you hide in the box under your bed?"

Yuna: ”'OF COURSE NOT".

Yeji: "Stop laughing you bitches, Yuna this ain't that serious, yes it can hurt, you have to be prepared downstairs and remember we take all the pills the company gives us and don't forget we always use condoms, DON'T GIRLS?"

Ryujin: "Don't give us shit about it, they shove it up my arse anyway, you think I'm going to let those sons of bitches touch my pussy? a good load on the face, that's what it's all about'."

Lia: "Same thing, they can fill my arse but my pussy is off limits, I love to smash their cocks and make them scream in pain when they try to pull out'."

Chaeryeong: "Fucking listen to these bitches, apart from sucking cocks when I want to, I only fuck other girls, no risk on my side."

Yeji: "See, we're all careful, protect yourself well and don't forget your pills, they help with your periods too'."

Yuna: “I'm out of pills and I don't have a condom, but it's not like I need one, is it?!!, I'm going home tonight, don't wait for me”.

Ryujin: “Don't take it like that baby, I can give you some if you want”.

Yeji: “Yuna, come back!!! “.

You hear the loud thud of a door slamming and limbs flailing as Yuna leaves.

Yeji: “ 'Well done girls, that was clearly a good time to bring her down and make fun of her and her problems”

Lia: "Sorry unnie, we didn't think she'd take it like that, I'll go and get her'.”

Ryujin: “Stay here, you're making it worse.”

Lia: “Bloody hell, how can someone like that be so ignorant of her own sexuality, do you think she likes girls instead?”

Chaeryeong: “She's got a crush on her dad, are you stupid or what, we don't say anything to avoid the subject, she's just wanted to fuck her dad for a long time, she's got photos of him on her phone, on her wallpaper, a photo of him under her pillow, the poor thing is in desperate need of fatherly love”

Yeji: “ I don't know what happened last night, but since then she's been really nervous about it, let's leave her alone, otherwise she'll go crazy and we don't know what she'll do”.

Yeji: "We'll see about that later, it's almost time. Get ready and I'll go to her, you three go with the managers. We'll go back to the company, Chaery, get her bag and phone. She left it on the table."

Calm returned to the room and before you lost the connection to your daughter's phone, you heard

"Looks like you've got work to do Daddy Shin, sorry for the trouble" and she hangs up.

This is a lot to take in, and apart from the sexual debates between the 4 girls, which did not leave you without a reaction, the hardest thing is still Yuna's problems, which confirm your fears about her feelings, your daughter is not the provocative woman she pretends to be in the message, she is a young woman who still has a lot to learn about her own love and carnal feelings, knowing that your little girl is 'pure and innocent' would make any father smile, but on the other hand, what is the harm in learning about her sexuality? The trauma that has held her back, and for which you are probably responsible, is preventing her from moving forward in her life as a woman.

You'd been thinking all day about how to punish your daughter for her insolence, but the person you'd been talking to didn't exist. With Yuna's true feelings in mind, the next logical step seemed to be to wait for her at home and assume your role as father, as a princess deserves.

When you get home, you look at the clock and realise that she won't be home for another hour or two. That gives you plenty of time to tidy up, do your laundry and take a shower. You've picked up some bad habits living alone, but now that you're sharing your home with someone else, it's time to get the ball rolling again and restore the beauty of your property.

Time flies and you've barely had time to get out of the shower and into your new clothes when you hear the door latch click. You quickly step in front of it to see a redhead running towards you, dropping her bag in the doorway and giving you a big hug.

"Welcome home, darling," you say, stroking her head as you feel her face sink into your chest and a wet feeling hit your chest.

"I'm sorry daddy, I..."

"SHhh, it's all right, I'm here."

The situation is very different from yesterday, Yuna's shell seems to have burst the moment she saw you, you feel the warmth of her body against yours as her arms wrap around you, you say nothing, leaving one of your hands on her head and the other on her back.

"Dad, I... the message... it's not .... I wan...."

"Just breathe, I'm not angry, you know,"

"I just wanted to make you happy, I wanted to show you I'm a big girl, I'm so embarrassed now"

"You don't have to make me happy, it's my job to make YOU happy, and don't bother trying to act big, you're my little princess, that's all".

Just as she seems to have calmed down, you take her face in your hands to wipe away the last of her tears before placing a loving kiss on her forehead, "I love you," you say in a low voice as if to lull her to sleep, "I will never let you down, my only daughter.

Yuna is lulled by your words and you feel the weight of her body fall on your arms, "just rest on the sofa, I'll bring you a snack, you must be tired from your day's work", she accepts without flinching as you prepare something to eat while you wait for dinner, your daughter sits on the sofa, her head resting on a pillow, looking at you, when your eyes meet you exchange a smile without saying a word.

The evening passes smoothly, while your daughter rests and eats, you finally talk about your respective days, leaving your erotic exchanges out of the conversation, she finally gets to know your job, while you finally know what happens off camera, the night is felt and you suggest she take a shower while you prepare dinner, again she accepts without concern.

"Would you like to join me?" she asks shyly.

"Yuna, your legs are shaking, you don't have to push anything, I'm not going anywhere," you reply to her completely unexpected request.

She doesn't even answer and locks herself in the bathroom, slamming the door. You really can't understand what's going on in her head, but there's no time to lose, so you start preparing dinner.

Like last night, the meal is spent in church-like silence, each of us with our own thoughts. Yuna is completely withdrawn and doesn't even look at you, which is quite an awkward situation for you as she seems so close and then suddenly so far away.

You try to break this silence in the desert and ask her if she wants to watch a film, she takes a while to answer and then accepts, saying that she has to change first so that you can start getting everything ready while you wait for her, it's a good start and the film could give you a new topic of conversation to revive the dialogue between the two of you.

While she's still in her room, you call out to her to ask what film she's interested in. 

"Ruby Gillman, Teenage Kraken Please, Giselle-unnie told me it's good". 

You hear through the house, you recognise your daughter, who has always loved cartoons, once you've found them on Netflix, you adjust the brightness of the lights for a subdued effect, you've prepared a blanket and something to eat.

The minutes tick by and you wonder what Yuna is doing, you don't see much, it takes so long to get into pyjamas, but you tell yourself she's probably on her phone at the same time, which often doesn't help.

You hear her footsteps behind you and when she appears behind you, you see her wearing a simple pink t-shirt, you can easily guess that she's not wearing anything underneath as it hugs her breasts.

Suddenly she's straddling you, saying, "Forget the film, I want you, Daddy," as she pushes her body into yours and lies on top of you in a lotus position.

"Yuna, please, I," you don't finish your sentence as she slaps your face. 

"STOPPP REJECTING MEEEEEEEEEE' she screams at the top of her lungs as she bursts into tears over you, 'WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS, I....I....I JUST WANT YOU TO LOVE ME' WH... WHY ARE YOU HURTING ME LIKE THIS?

Your daughter lashes out at you in shock at what's happening in front of you, you grab her arms and she becomes helpless under the difference in strength between the two of you. 

"Yun..." 

"I just want you..." she says, her face completely ravaged by tears, the face of someone who is deeply hurt and can't take it anymore.

Something breaks inside you, all this time you've assumed she would throw herself at you, just to be like the others, just to receive the love you would have given her anyway, you've hurt her again and again until you made the same mistake you made with your wife.

Your daughter loves you more than anything and you are too blind to see that she doesn't know how else to show it, but this time you will make it right and give yourself to her.

Without further ado, you threw your lips over hers, releasing her wrists from your grip and sliding your hands from her lower abdomen to her breasts hidden under her t-shirt.

"No bra, you little rascal?"

Instinctively she puts her hands on your shoulders and fights your tongue with hers, you attack her nipples with your hand and they are already hard, the attack on her breasts causes Yuna to moan which is absorbed by your kiss, you go down her neck to place your marks while she can finally listen to her pleasure.

"Daddy, your cock, give it to me" she says as she plunges her hand into your shorts and meets your cock through the underpants, you lift her up with the strength of your legs and come to remove your underwear in one go, your cock is now naked between your daughter's thighs and she puts her hands on it.

"Put some saliva before baby," she listens to you religiously, but instead comes and gets the saliva overflowing from her pussy and applies it to your cock.

"Let me use my juices before you use yours," she says as she works your cock up and down, your shaft growing under Yuna's movements and the pleasure is truly enjoyable.

One of your hands digs into her soaking wet panties and you massage her slit with your fingers, your moaning cries joining in as you pleasure each other.

Quickly she gets up from the sofa to kneel in front of you and she begins to lick your cock with delicacy, her tongue starts at the glans and she places kisses on it, then her tongue and lips come together so that she tries to suck your sperm, her lips then go gently down the length of your cock and your cock goes slowly down her throat.

"Yuna, that's good, you're doing great," you say as you put both hands on her head to guide her, you watch as your cock disappears into her mouth as the sensations of her work send shivers down your back, from time to time she pulls out to spit on your shaft before sliding back in,

Yuna learns as she goes and her technique is perfected with each dive, after a while your breaking point comes and you refuse to finish here so you help her pull out and try to save your orgasm for later, her mouth overflowing with saliva and she looks at you with appetite.

"Sorry baby but it's my time to eat you now" you tell her as you take her in your arms and go into your bedroom where you lay her on her back on the edge of the bed, without further ado she attacks her pussy with your mouth and she presses her thighs against your head, Your tongue immediately attacks her slit, which rushes to secrete its juices, which you suck up as you go, her clit is quickly attacked by one of your hands, which takes great care to titillate the little bean, with delicacy you move up and down her slit, from time to time penetrating her entrance with your tongue to prepare the work,

The poor red girl cries out with pleasure as she experiences being devoured by her lover for the first time, she clings to your hair which she pulls when the pleasure is too great, on your side you shift into second gear and penetrate your daughter's pussy with two fingers, you feel like you're piercing a flan because the inside is so soft.

“Daddy don't stop, it's coming” your daughter cries out as she feels your third finger deep inside her, your mouth has turned into a wet wiping system as her pussy floods your mouth, you keep up the rhythm until you feel your daughter leave and in a flash her body goes rigid and her pelvis convulses under the power of the orgasm.

You lift your head and climb onto the bed to kiss your princess with a little “I love you” in her ears, 

"Daddy, I want you,” she says, stretching out her arms to ask you to come inside her, “it's time to put that seed inside me,” as she spreads her pussy in front of you.

Worried, you reach over to your bedside table for a condom, but Yuna stops you.

“It's ok daddy, I'm on the pill and it's a safe day, you can pour everything into my secret garden", Yuna's naughty language excites you immensely and your cock hurts so you give in and come to lie on her entrance and gently tap your cock to soak it in her juices, 

You sink gently and anxiously into your own daughter, resting your elbows on the mattress so that you can kiss her as you move inside her, every inch of her is painful and she lets you feel it as she scratches your back with her fingernails, you kiss her tenderly as your hips move up to touch her pussy, 

Your cock feels the tightness of her vagina as well as the warmth and moisture from your excellent preparation work, the passage through her pussy is made without too much effort and you slide deep inside her like butter, on the other side Yuna seems to take your big cock like a champion and despite the pain she has already wrapped her legs around your waist.

You feel her warm, rapid breathing on your face as you look into her eyes, just inches apart.

"Daddy, I can feel you inside me, my little pussy just ate your big dick."

"Are you alright baby, I won't move until you're ready".

"I want to sit like on the sofa".

You obeyed her orders and gently lifted her up without pulling back to let her sit on you, you put yourself on her buttocks and she was now resting all her weight on you, the change of position made your cock dig even deeper inside her and she felt it well. 

"Don't move, I want to stay connected to you like this," as she strokes her stomach trying to feel your cock, "keep eating my tits, please.

Just as your cock seems to have bottomed out, you turn your attention to her pair of little red lemons, You really loved her tits, they are not as big as some but in your eyes they are perfect, the texture of them, the feel of them in your hands and the way Yuna reacts every time you nibble on her nipples.

You decide to kiss your daughter and whisper "Shall we?" to which she only nods, you begin to rock your hips as your cock slowly emerges from her pussy and then slowly returns, never fully exiting, you carve your daughter's walls with your cock and Yuna moans with pleasure at the work of your rod.

“♥Hmm....♥Ah....♥Hmm, ah....♥ Daddy, your cock is turning me inside out, every time you push in it feels weird down there, it's a bit painful but also extremely pleasurable, I can feel your big cock pushing my sides apart and knocking on my garden gate, keep it up, I want to feel your cock ravaging me".

You pick up the pace at your partner's request, your cock seems to have done its job well as you are able to withdraw completely before impaling her again with no problem, under the force of your hips Yuna lays her head on your neck and sucks you like a baby, you let go of her breasts to lock your hold on her by circling her waist with your arms, once firmly in place you pound her with all your strength. 

“♥Ah....”

“♥Ah.... DADDY”

“♥Ah....

♥Ah.... DA”

For long minutes, you hold her close as your cock slams violently into her pussy. The pleasure comes from the fact that Yuna has her head back, unable to form a sentence. Pleasure has taken over her body. You feel your orgasm building slowly. While your daughter is already on the verge of hers, you feel her legs squeeze you hard as she explodes on your cock and her fluids flow down it. Yet you don't stop your thrusts.

"Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Stop it"' At her command you stop and discover your daughter's face completely undressed, her hair sticking to her sweaty face and you push aside the lips that hide her eyes to kiss her.

"Let me do it now" she asks as she moves her hips on her own to embrace your sensitive cock, her movements are fast, her pussy devouring you at its own pace and you put your hands on both her buttocks to support her, you give little slaps to her delicate skin and as she fucks herself on her father's cock you feel your orgasm coming and you warn her.

"Yuna, I'm coming"

She gives you the coup de grace when she puts all her weight on her descent and your stiff cock pierces all her pussy until your balls kiss her pussy, inside your cock floods her and for the first time in her life Yuna is at the door of motherhood, her pussy sucks your sperm with efficiency and you withdraw from her.

Yuna is still sitting on your lap, your breaths heavy, your bodies full of sweat and juice, and neither of you can stand the silence as Yuna's cum begins to flow.

"Ah baby, that was amazing. You were amazing!"

"Thanks daddy, do you want some more?"

"I'm sorry darling, I'm not young anymore, my penis is withered."

You can see the disappointment in Yuna's eyes. In your youth, a second round might have been possible, but now your libido is limited to your arousal, and after emptying yourself into her, you no longer feel anything on that level.

"Daddy... Are you going to leave me like this?" says Yuna as she gets down on all fours, points her bottom at you and spreads her pussy with your cum dripping from it.

The sight of your daughter in this position would have turned any man on. You feel like it, but your desire is gone for the moment. You see your daughter wiggling her bottom, begging you to fuck her, and you're powerless to stop her.

"Dad, I'm sorry... I lied, I haven't taken the pill yet, I want a second shot or I won't take it. The longer you wait the more your seeds will fertilise my garden, look how hungry my pussy is, come and make sure you flood my pussy next to save my career."

You're at a loss for words, whether to believe her or not, but one thing's for sure, she knows how to work you because your cock has come back to life and you're going to take malicious pleasure in making her regret having put that doubt in your head.

You grab her hips and penetrate her little pussy, slamming your balls against her arse, 

The gentleness of before has been transformed into a wild fuck where only pleasure is king. Your hands are firmly planted on her hips as you pound her with your pelvis, creating waves on her buttocks that will soon feel the onslaught of your hands.

"Daddy, your cock is stirring my insides, your sperm is mixing in my pussy, push hard".

Your daughter is now nothing more than a vulgar hole in your assaults, the seed of doubt she has planted in your mind has completely removed your sanity. If she is indeed unprotected, your first sperm must have done its work in spite of you. When in doubt, you prefer to flood her a second time and make sure she takes her medicine.

Go ahead daddy, make me your property, claim my pussy as your own personal garden, I'll take care of all your fruit,' Yuna's provocations rage in your mind. So you explode into your offspring's pussy again, you stand for a few seconds spasming against your daughter's ass as she collapses onto the bed, then you do the same, completely exhausted.

'Was that true about the pill, baby?

'Yes...' she says shyly. Now that all her libido has left her body, she presses you against her breasts and whispers in your ear: "It's too early to taste my juice, you'll have to give me some more water.

Your daughter is soon off to dreamland, still naked, and the bed is soaked with the fluids of your lovemaking. You make sure you look as tired as possible before you too collapse.

.

.

You wake up to a pleasant smell, but also to a body in pain. The bedroom gym session hasn't done your body any good, but your mind is at peace. As you leave your room, you see Yuna in an apron preparing breakfast. Beside her is a pack of contraceptive pills, two of which are already empty. When she sees you, she says:

"Good morning, Dad, you're going to need your strength, remember, you have to stir the soil first before you put your seed in. We're going to have to spend some time on this before you can make my pussy fertile for you."

Later, as you're driving to work, you see an important email from your CEO and a message from Yuna; you'd like to think that the email is more important, but that would be lying to yourself,

The text message is just a selfie of your daughter still in bed next to you with the message 'I've got a body full of marks, the girls are going to realise what we've done, not to mention I've still got your sperm in me 🤭"

Classic Yuna, but you'll have to get used to it. You've made a pact with a demon, but who cares, you're no angel anyway.

As for the email, just looking at the title 'Meeting with JYP & ITZY', it looks like you're finally going to meet one or more members of your daughter's group.

______________________________________________________________

[reader-wandering18]

Yuu Professor

In the staff room, Yuu leaned back in his chair as he sighed deeply.

—I see you’re too tired, Professor Yuu.

— Professor Trein.

— He’s the youngest of us all, try not to intimidate him, Professor Trein.

— What are you trying to say, Professor Crewel?

Yuu felt like he was in the middle of a clash between two mountains. He was afraid his life would end before he even started at that school.

— Come on, get along, we have to make a good impression on the new teacher!

Professor Vargas had arrived, grabbing Yuu by the collar of his shirt and pulling him into a tight hug as if they were old classmates. Although with his large muscles, Yuu felt suffocated.

— If you need anything, you’re more than welcome to come to the Mystery Shop. We have great promotions this year.

Sam handed him a business card.

Professor Crewel was right when he said he was younger than all of them, he was only 27 years old and to top it off… he had no experience in being a teacher.

“It was all because of that incident”

While he was undercover due to his previous job, he was caught in the crossfire between two strangers. Both of them were apparently killed and to top it off, one of them was the new teacher at Night Raven College that year who was mistaken for him.

He had no intention of entering that school and taking that teacher’s place.

When he was ready to escape, he found himself in the school surrounded by a magical field with no way out unless he asked the headmaster for permission.

If he speaks now, he would get into big trouble and have charges like identity theft, possible murder (when he didn’t) and if they were to investigate further…

“Two years, my contract period is only for two years”

Nothing bad could happen.

He would like to kill his past self.

— RIDDLE!

A case of Blot had appeared in front of him.

And soon, a series of them in that prestigious school.

“What the hell have I gotten myself into?!”

Yuu activated a magic shield to protect himself and the students.

Riddle’s blows were fierce, clearly aggravating his anger at the moment, causing the earth to tremble… But the shield showed no signs of breaking.

“That damn crow had said he would bring more teachers, but he hasn’t returned for a while now!”

All the students had evacuated, except for four stubborn young men.

— WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? Get out of the dorm immediately!

— I can’t do it, Professor. I can’t leave Riddle as he is now.

— I refuse, he still hasn’t apologized to me!

“These damn proud brats.”

— Worrying about you shortens my life,— he said in a whisper.

— Don’t leave the shield or I will punish you!

— Professor!

Yuu stepped forward, holding his staff firmly, the wood looked ancient, there was also a design made of pure silver with complicated runes, the magic gem was on top with an exquisite crimson hue.

The moment he stepped out of the magic shield, air bullets pierced the rose bushes leaving nothing but small pieces resembling toothpicks.

It had all happened in the blink of an eye.

Riddle was shocked by the speed at which the master had released the magic. He hadn’t uttered a single word or seemed to have hesitated when it came to making projectiles with the air element!

The strength of the magic power they released could be compared to the cannons of a warship.

— It’s incredible.

Yuu walked towards Riddle with his head held high and only one thought in his head.

“ You are too young to waste your life”

Riddle came back to his senses, thanks to Professor Yuu's intervention. He was taken to the school infirmary after waking up and talking to everyone.

Though Ace, seeing him cry, could only behave as Ace would.

Seeing that moment of conviviality between students, Yuu decided to take a step back and leave that dorm. His rush to flee was also to avoid cleaning Heartslabyul's dorm, which had practically been left in ruins because of him.

"I'm really tired, let the students take care of it."

After a week, in a lonely classroom, Yuu found himself grading his students' homework.

"How can this guy be in charge of teaching him at three years old?!"

The identity he had accidentally taken was not only that of a teacher, but also that of a high-level magician. If anyone else who hadn't studied magic as exhaustively as he had, they would be in serious trouble.

But this coincidence sent shivers down his spine.

That guy, despite being a high-level magician, has no family or friends who can get him into trouble if they see him. Also his age and appearance.

It was as if the role was made for him.

Knock knock

Yuu was startled but didn't show it, his eyes went to the classroom door where he found three students from Heartslabyul. One of them was holding a strawberry cake.

— Teacher, may I come in?

— Clover, Diamond, and Rosehearts. Come in.

With magic, Yuu arranged all his documents and before he could ask the reason for his visit, Riddle put that strawberry cake in its place.

— This is a thank you for helping me.

Seeing the shiny cake in front of him, Yuu couldn't speak for a moment.

— As an educator, I must take care of my students. You don't need to give me a strawberry cake.

— Come on, teacher, the dorm leader made it with so much effort for you!

— Carter!

Riddle scolded the blonde haired boy, though seeing the blush on his face was not something he could hide.

—This is a cake I made as an apology for the trouble I caused. Before the no unbirthday party, I want you to be the first to taste the cake.

Hearing those words, Yuu couldn’t help but look at Riddle tenderly. The overstain is caused by the negative feelings of wizards. It’s something that simply can’t be controlled and he was burdened by his past.

“I still feel a little uneasy knowing that I was able to see his past. It’s really strange.”

He cut the first piece of cake and as he brought it to his mouth.

“This is really salty!”

Hahahaha here I leave you another part of Master Yuu living with heartslabyul, there will be more interactions with the other students, I hope it is to your liking.

PD information: In order not to make Riddle feel bad, Yuu did not tell him that his strawberry cake was too salty. So that was how Ace along with Deuce, Trey and Carter ate the other cakes that he had made beforehand. Yuu couldn't throw away the cake so he endured having to eat it.

One more thing, I probably won't upload anything in the next few weeks, more than anything unfortunately I'm a student so right now I'm full of projects. I already have the two chapters of Darkness ready as well as more ideas of Yuu from other worlds but honestly they don't convince me so I haven't been able to upload them and I also don't have time to edit them but in my free time I plan to move forward.

Slowly but surely.

[admirxation]

彡 𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟏𝐭𝐡 - 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠

♡ 𝐬𝐮𝐦. The reader helps Levi relax, after a ton of paperwork, by doing his favourite thing (wc: 2k )

𝐜𝐰 — afab!reader x Levi Ackerman. 18+ smut mdni, established relationship (husband/wife), porn with little plot, modern au, p in v, and cockwarming (so no full on sex it's just warming) -> you've been warned; continue at our own discretion.

It was another late night for Levi. The pitch dark shrouded the outside of the house, with the sound of the winter wind gushing through the wood panelling around the windows. He was in his study, the dim light of his desk lamp casting a soft glow over his scattered paperwork.

Paperwork. That damn paperwork. The room felt heavy with the scent of ink and paper, the sound of his pen scratching against the papers and the only thing that broke the silence in his study; honestly, it felt like his whole life was just being a corporate machine filling out blanks and signing out contracts, being miserable and stressing himself out just to get that pay-check. It was far later than he had anticipated, but the work never seemed to end as he glanced upon the sea of documents that felt like he wasn’t even making a dent in, with how time ticked away, but the pile just taunted him with that smug pillaring.

You heard—from your shared bedroom—the faint sigh escaping from his mouth as he shifted in his chair, knowing he was stressed and exhausted. It had become routine to wait for him and have your heavy eyes flutter open when he would creep into bed in the A.M., having your heart lurch when his alarm would go off and disturb his much-needed sleep. When making him some tea, you decided to crawl out of the silk satin sheets and let your bare feet pad against the floorboards and tiles. You knew a cup of tea wouldn’t solve all his problems—you weren’t stupid—but it was a way to show you were thinking of him; giving was your love language.

The house was still, the soft murmur of the night outside with a distant hum as the wind swished through the fickle and stiff branches. You stood just outside his office door, a delicate cup of steaming tea resting in your dainty hands as the warmth from the cup rose in small wisps against the bottom of your face. For a moment, you watched him with his brows furrowing and his dark hair falling into his eyes, that soft curve of his lips pressing into a thin line of concentration as he scratched the back of his undercut.

You knocked softly, not to startle him, and entered the room. “Levi,” you said quietly, moving toward him slowly and carefully, the cup of tea nestled in your soft hands. Your heart started to flutter as you watched his face soften when his gaze met yours.

His smile was genuine, with a flicker of warmth melting away the cold concentration that had previously been painted on his features. “You’re still up?” he asks in a voice rough from hours of silence, but concern is also etched in his demeanour as he glances at the cup in your hands.

You watched as he took the cup and placed it on the dark wooden desk. The cup's soft clink against the flat surface filled the room.

“I thought you might need something warm to help you,” you say tenderly as you watch his exhausted face, “you’ve been working so hard… I don’t like seeing you work yourself like this.”

He leaned back in his chair, running his fingers through his hair, a soft chuckle escaping his lips: “I just wanna make sure it’s all perfect before it’s sent off,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on your face. “I work hard for you, after all.”

You felt a warmth rise in your chest, adoring how he always thought of you; even when he was buried under the weight of work, he always said he could endure it if it meant you could be comfortable.

“You don’t have to do everything all at once, Levi, and… I am not your entire responsibility,” you stepped closer with your hand resting gently on the top of his head, your heart jittering as he made his grey glance up at you; he watched as the soft glow of his lamp highlighted your features, feeling warm and a pull he always did when he was with you—his perfect wife.

He reached out a hand, gently wrapping around your wrist and pulling you in closer. “Come here,” he said softly, in a low voice that was warm and inviting. His eyes flickered with something deeper, something needier from his quiet longing and exhaustion.

Without a word, you moved into his arms, letting him pull you down onto his lap and letting his warmth envelop you. You were surrounded by the familiar strength of his arms winding around your waist and grounding you down on his thighs. The papers on his desk remained forgotten now, and the day's weight melted away in the quiet intimacy of the moment. He rested his head on your shoulder, burying himself deeper into the crook of your neck and taking in your scent and a deep inhale before expelling a sigh of contentment.

“You make the day so much better, my love,” he sighed, his arms tightening around you more before he moved his head back and looked at your face, taking in every detail: the slope of your nose, the crinkles by your eyes, and the way your lips curved into a smile. “You’re beautiful, by the way.”

“You say that every day, Levi.”

“What? Am I not allowed to compliment my wife now,” he let out an amused hum from his lips as he looked at you for a few more moments.

You smiled at his comment, a dust of red meeting your cheeks as you felt his hand smooth over the curve of your cheek. “Come here; I haven’t given you much attention today.” You quickly obliged as you saw his eyes flutter shut, mirroring yours as you both leaned in to press your lips into a soft and tender interlock. Your ears filled with the sound of his lips against yours and the sensation of his connection, making the warmth of your cheeks travel further around your body as your fingers trickled up to his hair, snaking up from his neck and feeling the short bursts of hair from his undercut, then the long dark and soft strands that you intertwined your delicate fingers with.

Both of you softly hummed into the kiss, expelling soft and sensual moans as the kiss started to deepen, his hands rubbing against your exposed thighs as you continued to straddle his lap, letting out a short and playful yelp as you felt him grow underneath you.

“Levi,” you giggled out as you rubbed against him to tease him, feeling a jolt within your core as you listened to the slow inhale as he felt your clothed core rub against his tent.

“You’re so beautiful,” he looked into your eyes and took in every feature he had fallen in love with over the years of being with you, “you know… I’d love to be taken care of right now,” he mentioned in that teasing and tantalising tone. Of course, you knew exactly what ‘taking care’ of him meant; after all, the strong man did have his desires that you needed to fulfil.

“Oh, and what do you need, my love.”

“How about you take these off,” he had trailed his hand underneath your nightdress and tucked his fingertips underneath the lace edge, pinging the fabric back and letting it slap against your skin, causing a soft wince of shock.

You smiled at him as you lifted yourself off—momentarily—and dragged the underwear to be discarded on his study’s floor, letting his eyes darken as he watched you come crawling back on his lap.

“Hm, so obedient,” he teased as he started to leave a hot trail of kisses on your neck, making sure to pay attention to your sweet spots, his hands on your hips and rocking you back and forth as your cunt started to warm up in its wet against his tented sweatpants, making you mewl out his name as he started to get you ready for him.

“Mm, Levi, thought I was taking care of you,” you whimpered through your chewed lip caught in the fronts of your teeth.

“You will be; I just have to warm you up first,” he whispered as the tips of his teeth grazed over your neck, making you release a hot and sensual gasp to fill up the dark room with an energetic thrill that was already coursing through both of your bodies.

He let out a grunt when he could finally feel how wet you were underneath him. “Now, shall we do my favourite thing since my sweetheart loves to take care of me,” he teased as he moved a strand out of your face, his warm breath trailing down your neck and onto your collarbones.

“Yeah… I wanna make you feel good.”

“That’s my girl.”

A strawberry red dust flowed over your cheeks, your breath hitching as you watched him bring down his sweatpants, taking in short and sweet gasps as your eyes glanced down and were met with the sight of his hardened cock; just the sight making your already wet pussy twitch and tighten as if in anticipation of his entrance that you were so desperate for.

“You wanna be good and do my favourite thing, hm?”

“Yes, Levi”

“My, you are a good girl tonight.”

You happily obliged, positioning yourself and lining him up with your anticipating hole, hovering before slowly pushing down. However, Levi got a bit impatient and placed his large hands on your waist and slammed you down, filling the room with the slapping sound of your skin against his.

“Ah~” you moaned out as your eyes started to drift upwards, fluttering as your mouth was left agape at the feeling of his fast rut inside your tight and spasming walls getting adjusted to him.

“Shh, shh, you can take it; no need to be dramatic now,” he cooed in your ear as he pushed his hand underneath your dress and rubbed your back, already starting to feel how your blood was running hot all through your body from the raised temperature of your skin; you jumped slightly with a hitch in your breath as you felt his cock twitch inside of your tight core, making your thighs shake beside his as you tried to get accustomed to his large size. You wrapped your arms around his neck, letting him place soft kisses on your neck; all you wanted to do was bounce on his dick, feeling the temptation as you started to lift your knees up before he stopped you.

“Ah, ah, ah, stay right where you are… I wanted my favourite thing… Yours can come tomorrow.” He winded his arms around your waist as the other rubbed your back in comfort, making you squirm and writhe under the sensation and the bubbling need to bounce and feel his deep stokes, a bubbling sensation that wouldn’t be met until later on—you had to play the waiting game.You bit your lip and chewed gently on the glossy texture. You knew why this was Levi’s favourite thing; it made you two feel close, especially after a long day of missing and yearning for you when paperwork was a constant obstacle from all the love he wanted to make with you. You weren’t going to deny it; all you wanted to do was pump up and down and make you both feel good, but this was his time, your time to take care of him while he slaved away working. You, also, couldn’t deny it felt so good to feel his hard cock rest inside your tightening pussy, and the tingling sensation running through your body as his calloused hand ran over your spine and hummed as soft kisses continued to be placed on your neck.

taglist: @wintrrxxo @sleazymac-n-cheesy @localkiss -> check out my pinned post if you want to be added to the taglist, if you want to be deleted just privately message me.

a/n: more levi content hehe, i see you hungry girls who liked the breeding kink post and ugh i love it when people share my levi love, it's a phase that just keeps coming back AH. btw after kinktober i am going for a PHAT slumber, I'll still be around obvi but I won't be writing anything for at least for the first two weeks of november to recover as well as needing to concentrate on my masters work.

[earthtooz]

…u mentioned rin. what do u think about unofficial bf rin seeing u in another guy’s jacket cs when u asked him for his he said he’s too cold to give it to u.

the itoshi rin writer within me coming alive for seven be like...

gn!reader who is the assistant manager for rin's team, pro!player itoshi rin, playful y/n, situationship between rin and reader, rin is jealous bc this is how i celebrate the end of an itoshi rin drought in the manga, unedited + apologies for bad writing

A hand slaps down on the table in front of you, the harsh sound of skin meeting wood softened only by a mere jersey. The sudden interruption rips you from the paperwork you had been assigned at the start of the day, ripped from the world of sporting brand deals and competition contracts by a certain grump you have the pleasure of dealing with. 

“Put this on.” Itoshi Rin demands, cold voice rocky with conflict.

“What?” You ask, mind dazed and eyes sore from reading so many words. 

“Put this on.” Rin seethes through his teeth, practically waving his jersey in your face. 

“Why?”

“Because you need it.” 

“Not anymore, I’m not. Isagi gave me his jacket.”

“I can see that. That’s why you should put. This. On.” 

“Hey, you were the one that was cold!” You counter, capping your pen and pointing it at him. “Remember? You were like ‘why didn’t you bring your own, you idiot. Warm-ups haven’t started yet, so I can’t give it to you’.” 

It irks him how you imitate him with a sneer that he swears he doesn’t have, or how you deadpan your tone to match his, but what irks him even more is the fact that you’re wearing Isagi’s jersey instead of his. Rin has half a mind to burn it instead of returning it to the dark-haired when he gets his hand on it.

“Just- just take it!” He demands, pushing his neatly-folded jersey even closer to you.

“Don’t want it anymore,” you resist, mischief gleaming in your eyes. “People are gonna get the wrong idea.”

“And that is?”

“That we’re romantically involved,” you tease and Rin swears he feels his eye twitch. Sometimes he asks himself why, that out of all people, you were the one to capture his heart. You’re playful, understanding, and maybe a little too cunning for his own good, but he can’t find it himself to want you to change, and that is when he knew love-dipped arrows had struck him through the heart.

Accepting love’s toxins is why Rin finds himself completely exasperated, staring you down; the physical manifestation of everything he adores and simultaneously drives him crazy. After months of denying his feelings for you, and this is what he gets in return?

“Why would those idiots get ‘the wrong idea’?” He asks, deciding to play into your hands.

“Being seen in public with each other is a big step, y'know, especially if I’m wearing your jersey.”

“What the- so why can you wear Isagi’s jersey?”

You tap your pen against the table at a metronomic pace. “Because Isagi and I are just friends!”

Itoshi Rin can feel a migraine materialising. “I don’t care anymore, just, put this on already.”

“Your teammates may begin to speculate.”

“They’ve seen us kiss, what is there to ‘speculate’?” the athlete asks.

“We’ve never held hands in front of them, though,” you contest. “Me wearing this is kind of like you asking me to be your partner so-”

“So put on the damn jersey!”

With a hidden smile, you finally accept his gift, holding onto the soft fabric with a delicate grip. After months of dancing around being an ‘official’ or ‘unofficial’ couple, triumph settles in your stomach when you pull the collar of his jersey over your head. The expensive smell of his cologne invades your senses, distracting you from the satisfied look in his teal gaze.

A hand finds yours and effortlessly pulls you out of your office chair to be almost chest-to-chest with Itoshi Rin. “Let’s go,” he murmurs, snatching Isagi’s jersey as he drags you to the pitch, never letting you stray one inch from him.

He wants his teammates to get the 'wrong' idea, after all.

wrong idea as in you are romantically evolved, you're welcome xx

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[elsplayground]

Goverment Hooker

dbf Joel Miller x f!reader ( Joel is a Security Guard )

Summary: Joel miller, your dad’s best friend is a security guard for celebrities. He takes you to one of his jobs as part of a university homework you need to do, but he let his guard down.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI ! No outbreak, Unprotected p in v, mutual masturbation, explicit smut, a lil dominant Joel, secret relationship, orgasm denial, edging, dirty talk, fingering, semi-public sex, very slight bondage ( hand tied up, can easily be freed if wanted),Age gap, DBF Joel because who doesn't like that tbh, reader is in her 20', No body description except outfit and gender, no outbreak, porn w/plot, fluff, kind of slowburn.

w/c: 6k ( i'm actually proud for a second time )

a/n: Second smut !! i'm so proud of this one it's wayyy longer than the first one i did and like 10 times better (crying). Also theres a fanart on the banner but when i found it on pinterest the artist wasnt tagged :((( so please if you know who it is please feel free to comment !! love you whoever is reading this <3

Thank you for reading <3 notes, comments and reblog are heavily appreciated !!

“I need to do this uh…homework” you chew on your food. Good, delicious, and steamy coming right out of the stove. “I have to go to one of you two’s job and make a report” you stab one of the peas in your plate. “I mean I’d gladly take you but you know how boring my job is, huh? And your mom’s abroad” your dad says, rushing to eat his plate.

Your dad works a night job at an Amazon warehouse, something about packing orders, taking a box, putting wrapping paper and the object inside the box, taping it up, taking another box, putting wrapping paper inside, and bla bla bla… Your mom, she’s an airplane pilot going around the world. She’s barely home but she always make sure to send you some well decorated cards with landscapes on them, or to ship some gifts like magnets, you love magnets, your fridge is full of it by now but you still getting excited every time a small box arrives home. But like your dad said, you can’t possibly go with her. “Maybe you should go with Miller, from across the street, remember him ?” Of course you do, even though your dad and him didn’t meet for a long time like they used to. You kind of miss the nights around the barbecue where they would both laugh their ass off together, but now this barbecue is black and grey with dust of burnt charcoal that hasn’t been cleaned in a while. You haven’t talked to Miller since the last time the three of you met for dinner. The only interaction you’d have with him now would only stop at a little wave from across the street and a “hey how you doing?” every once in a while when leaving the house. “I mean why not…” you think. “What’s his job? We haven’t talked in a long time, wasn’t he in a contracting job or something like that ?” Your plate empty, you get up and pick up your plate along with your dad’s and put them into the dishwasher. “ yeah… think he got some problems with his brother, and they were both fired for some reasons. Now I don’t know what he’s doing but he’s wearing black suits every morning when he leaves so maybe it’s a job interesting enough for you to work on it.” He sighs, like a dad sigh, and gets up from his chair, walking out of the room. “food was good honey” he smile. That same night, your dad left for work while you’re in front of Miller’s door. The lights are on inside, it’s dim and gives a comforting vibe to his house which is quite unexpected for a man as rough and difficult as Mr. Joel Miller. You knock on the hard wood of his door, kind of hesitant because why would you go see your neighbor for a homework based on your parents? You shake your head. Whatever, no one is going to know anyways. The door open in a quick swift with a sudden smell of crackling fire and…roasted potatoes and meat? “Hey Miller,” you greet looking into his eyes, brown and sleepy. “I’m sorry to bother you but I had a question quite important.” He smile and nod “whatcha want kiddo’?”. You forgot his seductive accent, a while back it wouldn’t have the same effects that it has on you right now. You’re still a little hesitant to ask, afraid to bother him this late and during dinner. “I have this homework I’m supposed to do on one of my parent’s job. I have to go with them for like a day and make a report, but my parents are too busy, and dad told me to ask you instead” “Well, I’d gladly help you but uh, it’s quite early in’a mornin” “That’s fine, I can get up early.” You smile at him “Well now that you’re here,” he looks back to his kitchen, then back at you. “I got spare dinner here, wanna eat here so we can talk about this a little and maybe if you want…crash here for the night? The job has flexible hours so if I get a call earlier, I need ya to be ready.” This was kind of unexpected, but you’re surprised, a good surprised. “I’m down but I didn’t take any clothes with me. Honestly, I wasn’t sure you’d agree with this.”

You laugh it off, kind of embarrassed and a bit flustered. “I’ll give you something to sleep in” he smiles.

Spending the night at his house, eating dinner with him. All these emotions, the butterflies in your stomach is all new. You never really thought about it, but hell Mr. Miller is kind of hot. You’ve always dated guys your age. Some were good and some others disappointing, but you never thought of dating someone older and especially not this old or anyone being your dad’s best friend. The forbidden love that is so slowly and so suddenly growing in you. Why now? Why him. You sit down at the end of the table. Joel’s in the kitchen preparing the food. He brings the plates to the table, and he sit at your left, close to you. And you were right, it was potatoes and meat, and it was quite good compared to what you thought Joel was capable of and it’s quite pleasing to be eating this good. After a while talking about your homework, how the day would most likely go and you daydreaming about how hot he is the more you look at him, he offers you to watch a movie before bed. You both sit down and start watching this movie called Curtis and Viper 2, you’d figure it’s his favorite since he can’t stop going “oh look here” or “I love this scene” every once in a while. After what feels like a hour, your eyes are slowly closing and before you realize, your head is on his shoulder. It was slowly falling with time, and by the look on his face he doesn’t seem to be too bothered about you getting so close to him. “Wake up sweetheart” his voice is calm. You lift your head to follow the sound of his voice “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you like that,” you say while standing up. “I think I’m gonna take a shower before bed.” You go upstairs and into the bathroom. It’s quite big and smells like colognes and 3 in 1 shampoo. You always feel weird taking a shower at other people’s house, scared someone might walk in so you cough loudly to let the whole house know someone’s in here. You take a big towel for your body, a small one for your face and hair and hang them both on the dryer to make them warm for when you get out. The water is hot and steamy, droplets hits your face like ashes from a fire and you’re hot but not just from the water. Your core keeps burning for him and it gets worst with time. You can’t stop thinking about him, His face, his body, his shirt showing every detail of his biceps, his veins going down his arm and hands, his calloused fingers from playing guitar touching you, feeling your body. Fuck. Too far. You rinse the soap off your body and step out of the shower. The light is dim and making you even more sleepy than you already are. You put on whatever moisturizer Joel has in his bathroom filled with man products, breaking your skincare for one night won’t affect your skin too much. Suddenly the door open. Maybe you should’ve fucking coughed instead of daydreaming like a teen. Joel stops, his mouth slightly open in an “o” shape.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry sweetheart I should’ve knocked first,” he turns his head around as you quickly grab your towel from the floor and wrap it around you. “ ‘forgot to give you clothes before you got in.” He hands you the clothes, his clothes, considering Sarah has left a long time ago. “It’s okay you can look, I’m covered.” You say shyly. He turns back to you and unconsciously look you up and down without saying a word. You take the stash from his hands. “Thank you, I’ll be out in a minute” you smile. You finish changing in his shirt, a too-big dark brown shirt with his name embroidered on the top right part, must be from his old job as a contractor. You figure you’d be better in your panties rather than the pants he gave you considering the weather and how warm it is in this house. You go back into the living room and start searching for a blanket to sleep in. Luckily one big enough to cover your body but not your feet is folded neatly in a drawer under the TV. “Whatcha doin?” Joel goes down the stairs. “Oh I’m just…getting my bed ready” “There’s no way you’re sleeping here,” he says, in a commanding tone “Sarah’s room is my gym now, so you’ll sleep in my bed.” You let out a muffled laugh “yeah like you’ll sleep on a damn couch with your broken back you old grandpa ?” He looks at you with a crooked smile, a little hurt since you called him a grandpa but your personality makes him smile. “Yeah well what do ya suggest smartass ?” You’re hesitant to even try to suggest it but hell if he doesn’t want you on the couch then you need to try other solutions no matter how embarrassing they can be. “Then let’s both sleep in your bed.” You both end up in his bed. It’s awkward, a lot, but at least it’s comfy. Joel is long fallen asleep while you twist and turn every few minutes trying so hard to sleep but something is keeping you awake, something deep down in your core. Joel turns and end up facing you, still sound asleep. You can’t help but look at him and all his features. His crooked nose, his wrinkles softer than when he’s awake. It makes you realize that he’s almost constantly frowning, giving him a mean gaze that could scare people that don’t know him personally. But here, now, he’s so soft and so different. Oh, and he’s shirtless. It’s distracting but you’re in panties, so it feels a bit more casual. His skin is slightly tanned, just the perfect kind of tanned at this time of the year, and it’s a good tan, a brown one not a tomato kind of tanned. Fuck, you need to sleep. You turn around trying not to think about him and finally sleep, when you suddenly feel something against you. Joel moved closer, and he’s now wrapping his arm around your waist. Your breath stops for a second. It’s probably just a reflex from his body but he’s so warm, a good warm even though it’s hot under the sheets but you don’t want to wake him up. The sensation in your core is growing, like an alien trying to come out of your stomach to eat you out. “Fuck you Miller” you whisper. You hear a phone buzz and it’s waking you up. Joel is still holding you but now he’s closer and you can feel something hard on your lower back. It makes you blush but no matter how hard you try, his arm is holding you tight and you can’t escape. “Joel,” you shake his arm slowly. You hear him grumble. “Your phone is ringing”.

“Shit” he finally wakes up and it takes a few seconds for him to realize the position he’s in, and the way his body reacted to yours. “I’m so sorry, I uh… I have no excuse” he jumps out of the bed and takes his phone. He takes the call and leave the room. You check the clock. 5 a.m., you throw yourself back into the bed. “a C might’ve been better than this” you spit. Joel comes back in the room after a few minutes. “Just got a call, some job for us in a city nearby, you should get dressed” he leaves the room once again.

You put on the same clothes as yesterday, a black tank top with black shorts and some converse. You thought maybe dressing all black just like Joel’s uniform would make you look a bit more professional.

“You look stunning” Joel says, entering the room in a full black costume. It’s neatly ironed, not a single wrinkle in sight.

“Looking good too, Miller,” you walk towards him and tighten his tie a bit more.

He smiles “thanks angel”. Dammit, can’t he stop with the pet names, he’s going to make you blush.

“So, where are we going?” you tie your shoe laces in a tight ribbon

“I told ya’, a city a few minutes away from here. We’re taking my truck.”

You already took a trip in Joel’s truck when you were younger, but it was different, your dad was here to do the conversation and make things less embarrassing but now it’s a whole different situation. You still don’t know what to do with your feelings, should you tell him on the road? during the job? you can’t think straight with the small time of sleep you had.

You both hop into his truck; the weather is still quite hot for an early morning.

“How much time till we get there?” you buckle up and look at your phone.

“We got 20 minutes, you can put on some music if you want”

You connect your phone and put on some Arctic Monkeys on. You’re still debating if you should try to make a move on Joel because honestly, you’re starting to miss getting laid, and trying it out with an older guy would be fun.

But the fact that Miller is your dad’s friend makes it weird. Would he get along with it? Or would he just stop you the moment you put your lips on his?

Giving it a try won’t hurt considering you barely see him anyways so avoiding him won’t be too hard. Just no waving and no “Hi Mr. Miller” from across the street.

After like 5 minutes, Joel finally talks.

“Are you seeing anyone? Some guy from your school?” He lowers the volume of your music.

“No, why?” Here. Make a move. “Would you be jealous if I was?” you open the drawer in front of you and search for some candy, every sane people has some sweets in their car. You find a lollipop and unwrap it.

“ ‘twas just a question” he says as you put the lollipop in your mouth and lay your feet on the dashboard. He side eyes you and sigh.

“Well, no, no one’s interesting enough, I guess. Everyone is so focused on school; I haven’t seen a single person kiss another in the corridors or in some empty classes.”

You lick at your lollipop as you make eye contact with him. “Guess I should try older.” You smirk.

You see him adjust in his seat and taking a deep breath. He turns the volume back on to the song.

“How many secrets can you keep ?

‘Cause there’s this tune I found

That makes me think of you

somehow”

This song couldn’t be even more on point than now.

“What about you,” you ask, “You seeing anyone?”

“Not really, not really searchin’ for sum’ serious right now” he leans on the edge of his window, putting his hand into a fist to cover his mouth, he fidgets.

“So like… you just want sex?”

He chokes on his own saliva and coughs “What the fuck are you on about? Jesus “he spits “I mean, maybe, but I’m not actively searching or anythin’” 

“You got any age preference?” You take a chance.

“Uh…No, not really” You turn to him, making your belt a bit longer so you can get comfortable.

“Would you fuck me?” You lick on your lollipop; it has become a small pink ball now with all the sucking and licking.

“Jesus girl, you’re my best friend’s daughter” he doesn’t even seem angry or annoyed at the question somehow.

“You didn’t say no though” you smile.

“Doesn’t mean I agree.”

“Okay but, imagine if I wasn’t, would you?” he keeps looking at your lips while you talk.

“You gotta learn how to walk before learning how to run, sweetheart”

“What if I wanna run though?” You say as his grip tightens on the wheel, his knuckles turning white.

You both arrive at a hotel Joel’s company booked before you two arrived. It’s a nice place, a 5 stars hotel. He must stay at the same hotel as the person he has to protect, obviously.

“They booked us…well, me, a single bedroom since it wasn’t really planned for you to come, so we’ll have to share a bed” Joel say

“Again” you smirk. He’s probably already annoyed by you, but he still hasn’t complain, you just assume.

“Come” her orders you, you follow him to the room.

It’s quite big, it has a double bed with dark burgundy sheets and pillows, a big shower along the right side of the room that is basically the size of a whole bathroom, there’s two showerheads and the walls are transparent, so yes, a few meters long shower. What for? No idea.

The toilets are on the other side of the room along with a double sink and a huge light up mirror and fancy soaps you will definitely steal. There’s windows and a balcony in the between with a fancy view on the city.

“We’re gonna have to sleep here tonight if that’s okay with ya’, we might come back home late, and the room is free so we should enjoy instead of going home.”

two nights in a row in the same bed as Joel wasn’t something you’ve planned but you’re not mad about it, to be honest. As long as your assignment is complete…hopefully.

“We got an hour before we have to leave,” he put his bag to the side of the bed. “You can sleep a bit if you want, try to take back the hours of sleep you lost.”

Wait? is he aware that you were awake? Did he grab you on purpose? There’s no way.

“I’m not really tired anymore,” you sit on the bed in front of Joel as he unbuttons his suit jacket. You look up at him and bite your lips. You’re praying inside that he doesn’t reject you, that he follows your movements.

“Well, ion’ know what else you could do besides wait here like a behaved girl” Fuck, was this intentional? If not, it still turned you on.

You have no idea what to do right now, unbuckle his belt, suck him off? Or tease him?

Tease him.

You stand up and start walking towards the huge transparent walls shower, taking off your clothes on the way. Once arrived in the shower, you stand under the showerhead, open the water hose, and turn around searching for Joel.

He’s looking at you with black eyes, devouring you with his hands on his hips.

“Fuck” he spits.

He hurries to unbutton his shirt and take his fancy well ironed pants off along with his boxer.

Oh.My.God.

Your heart has never raced this fast in your life. He’s so big and he’s not even hard yet, you wonder how you never notice it before.

He gets into the shower and stand right in front of you under the shower, the water dripping down his hair and the tip of his nose.

“I don’t know what the fuck ya’ want from me, but you’re tempting me you fucking tease” His word travel down your spine and reaches your core.

His hands slide down your side, reaching your panty line.

“You have an hour to choose if you want to have fun or if you wanna go get a snack and get ready to write your lil’ presentation about me” his face gets closer to yours as your back arches.

“What if I want you to be my snack?” You say, slightly touching the tip of his cock growing bigger the more he looks at you.

He takes your wrists and pin them above your head and hold them up with one of his hands as the other grip one of your breasts. His fingertips are slightly twisting your nipple as he brings his lips to yours, indulging in a dirty, filthy kiss being washed away by the water running down.

Your hand grabs his shaft, stroking it slowly. “You’re so dam’ teasing’, if your father finds out I’m making out with his daughter, I’m a dead man” he growls as your hand twist slightly when reaching the tip of his cock

“We can keep it secret.” You smirk

“You wanna be my dirty little secret, huh?”

You hear a phone ringing on the bed, but Joel turns your head back to him. “Leave it, they’ll call back.”

After a session of teasing and kissing in the too-big shower, the both of you come out of it all wet and steamy. Joel picks up a towel and wrap it around you. He takes another one, smaller, and dries your hair with it. He is so gentle even though you’ve been closed to him for a few hours only, the day before he would only see you as the daughter of your best friend that lives across the street, nothing more.

Joel walks to the bed and pick up his phone, his towel around his hips.

“Fuck!” He screams. “Boss called, the woman I was supposed to work for left earlier, we should’ve been gone by now” He put his clothes back on, muttering shit shit shit while doing so.

A black car with tinted windows comes out of the underground garage of the hotel and stops right in front of you.

“You’re in fucking trouble Miller” The driver guy said. He is big, his black vest almost merging into one with his muscles.

Joel opens the door for you and almost pushes you in.

“We’re ten minutes away from her, you better get yourself ready M” he says, hitting the gas.

 You feel something on your thigh, crawling all the way from your knee to the base of your leg, Joel’s warm hands are touching you, slowly going towards your inner thigh.

“What are you doing?” you whisper. He gets closer to your ear while his hand finally touches your clit through your panties.

“You got me in trouble, made me lose my mind just so I could touch you,” He pulls your panties to the side and slide two fingers through your slit, wetting them just before entering your core with thick digits.

You struggle to keep your pleasure to yourself as a few squeals comes out of your mouth. The car is going fast, the sound of the engine covering whatever filthy sounds you make.

His other hand is reaching for the neckline of your top, his finger slightly pulls on it to have a quick peek of your breasts. You keep panting, his finger crooked into you, reaching that soft spongy spot that makes you shiver if it’s played with a little too much.

“ ‘Atta girl” he say, your heart pounding harder, getting closer to your climax and then…

He stops. Fuck

Your walls are clenching around nothing, it’s demanding for more, something bigger. It’s only waiting for him, but how much longer can you hold it?

The car pulls up to a fancy restaurant with a forest green and gold storefront. You see a few paparazzi outside taking pictures from afar, probably of the girl inside.

The driver gets out of the car and pull out his phone, calling to get orders.

“Take them off” Joel says looking at you, then your hips

“What…My panties?” you frown.

“Yeah” He smirk, and he’s so damn hot when he does.

You take your shorts off along with your panties. They’re black with some floral lace at the top, hot but still comfortable and covering.

Joel takes it in his hands and makes a small ball of fabric out of it and put it in the back pocket of his jeans. “Mine” he whispers, kissing you one last time before getting out of the car, holding out his hand for you to follow him.

“We have to secure the perimeter and make sure none of this fuckers get in” the big guy say as you take out your notebook and a pen from your backpack and start taking notes: how things start, Joel’s role, his coworkers, and other thing you couldn’t care less about because right now your mind is focused on Joel and not his work, more like the stuff in his pants.

You follow Joel inside the restaurant as he gives his name to the front desk. He sits you at a table near the outside window.

 “Sit here so I can keep an eye on ya’ from outside, take your notes here…look at me and scribble whatever you needa scribble,” he gently caresses your hair as you look up to him “Order anything ya’ want, it’s on me sweetheart” he kisses your forehead and rushes outside, seating at an outside table as a server brings him a cup of coffee. He looks so damn professional for a man who has finger fucking you just a few minutes ago while on your side, you can’t stop thinking about him, your inner thigh still dripping wet.

You order the breakfast menu with some fancy beacon and eggs with toast that cost way too much for little to no change compared to the ones you make at home.

The lady Miller and his big friend are supposed to watch is not far away from you, she’s really pretty, you actually don’t know who she is but considering her style she might be a model, or an actor…or a singer?

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, you see a number pulling up with a text.

Unknown Number: Still wet baby ?

You: Joel ??? howd u get my number?????

You save his number into your contacts.

Joel: Your dad just gave it to me, in case

You put your phone back on the table and keep writing stuff on your notebook, adding more details to the things you’ve already summed up earlier.

Your phone buzzes again.

Joel:  what you writing ?

You:  Shouldn’t u be watching that girl instead of me ?

Joel: yeah but I’d rather focus on you and ur bare pussy

You: omg shut up and do your work so I can have an A+

After a full day of running around town following that lady no matter where she’d go; Louis Vuitton, Prada, a random grocery store for some Redbull. All this while Joel and the big guy were watching her along with a few paparazzi they had to push away. You? You were standing behind Joel the whole time, trying not to be a menace to his job like this morning. All this time of walking around in no panties with only your shorts for cover, you finally go back to your hotel room, exhausted.

“Fuck it I’m so damn tired” You pant after walking up to your room.

Joel comes from behind, throwing your bag away and grabs you from behind, nestling his nose in your neck.

“You too exhausted to get taken care of angel?” you feel his lips curving into a smile against your skin. “Maybe I have a little energy to play a bit” you smile too.

He spins you around and crashes his lips onto yours, taking your breath away in a second. He starts undoing your shorts, freeing your cunt for good. He immediately slides his hand down to feel the wetness between your legs.

“You’re so damn wet, is it all because a’me baby?” he says, close to your ear.

“You made me wait all day long,” you say, “don’t act so surprised.”

“Stop being such a brat, honey, I’m gonna take good care of you, like no one did before.”

 And you know he doesn’t lie, just this morning in the shower and in the car, he treated you way better than any man did before, not that Miller is so damn special but the boys you were with were mostly unexperienced or scared, now at least he knows where your clit and your G spot is.

You’d never thought you’d do this with a person way older than you but now that you think about it, it should’ve been on your bucket list for a while.

He starts kissing you, again and again, not letting a single air particle get through your mouth as he pushes you until the back of your knees touches the table behind you. He grabs your waist, lift you up and sits you on it.

He quickly parts your legs to make space for him as you start to unbutton his plain white shirt.

“You’re so damn hot in that costume Mr. Miller,” you say as he growls for an answer “too bad we need to take it off.”

His bulge is growing bigger with time, his tip pushing onto the zipper. You’re still amazed by how big it is, even though it hurts sometimes it can be exciting.

He finally unzips his pants and take his boxer away while you take your shirt off in a hurry. His cock is throbbing, touching in between your legs almost like its attracted to you like a magnet.

The horniness is high today, the both of you couldn’t stop looking at each other. Him scanning your body up and down when you walk, devouring you with his eyes.

“I hope you touch yourself thinkin’ ‘bout me after that” and he’s right, you might. Touching yourself surely isn’t as good as Joel touching you, or even fucking with him which you’re going to find out, but maybe thinking of him would make it better.

Excitement is pooling in your core, and it’s about to overflow. Your body is heating up as Joel rub himself against your folds, spreading your fluids all over his shaft. Your hips can’t stop moving back and forth almost begging for him to finally get in, to fill you, possess you.

“Please, Joel, please just fuck me already” you keep begging for him.

A slight laugh comes out of his mouth as he finally pushes in and fuck, he’s so big, bigger than you thought it would be inside of you but it’s just perfect. He stretches you just right, almost like he belonged to you, and you belonged to him like a key belongs to one single door.

He starts pushing in, slowly, but your body decided otherwise and started pushing in even more.

“Hey honey, relax,” he takes back the inches you took from him “I wanna go slow, don’t wanna hurt my girl” The stretch did hurt a little bit but it’s like your pussy needs more.

His hips are going back and forth slowly but it still makes you moan, his thick shaft stimulating your inside just right.

“Just like that, baby.” He wet his lips. Your hand goes down and rubs your clit, following his pace.

“That’s it girl, keep touching yourself like that,” he rasps. His head falls back as he feels you tighten around him. “I love seeing you touch yourself like that baby”.

His hips start to trust faster and deeper, rubbing on your g-spot making you shiver after a few times with your hand stimulating you.

Your nails keep digging into his back, and it hurts him. You know because he keeps frowning. “Fuck baby your nails are sharp as fuck�� Getting long black Stiletto nails was a bad idea.

He crashes his lips onto yours as he suddenly lifts you up in his arms, his cock still in you.

“Imma make you pay for those marks” He says as he look in the mirror behind him giving a full view on the mark you imprinted on him.

He throws you onto the bed, making your walls suddenly clench around nothing. You see him grab his tie he left on the bed earlier and brings it around your wrists.

“Oh -- so your form of punishment is to tie me up, huh?” you smile.

“Uh huh” he nods.

He makes a tight knot; you know for sure it’s going to leave marks on your wrists…that’s his way of making you pay for his.

He throws your arms over your head, one of his hands holding you down. Your unable to move, unable to feel his body with your hands, this is the worst punishment you could think of for your first time knowing you probably won’t see each other for a while once you go back home, unless you hide, all this until maybe this goes further and one day you reveal to your dad that you’re fucking his best friend for a while. Damn it, you shouldn’t be thinking about this, right now you should focus on Miller and enjoy the night while it last.

He keeps fucking you deep and rough, your hand still tied up firmly. He pounds into you, changing his pace from time to time until you’re on the edge of cumming, finally.

“Joel please, I’m so close” your brows furrow, your head is spinning with excitement, and it get worse the closer to your climax you get.

“Cum for me baby, I’ll cum after you do” Looks like he put women first, he’s a gentleman.

After more moans, and more trusting, you finally come, your juices spreading all over him.

“Atta’ girl, good job” he praises you, and fuck he’s doing it well. He finally comes too, emptying out on your belly.

“Fuck Joel, I love you”

You didn’t mean to say that – but maybe you do, kind of. Good thing he doesn’t seem to have noticed as he kisses your forehead, gets up and walk to the opened shower. He comes back holding a small towel that he submerged in warm water. “There, baby” he says while cleaning your tummy.

After a whole night fucking with Joel multiple times and discovering more things about your body, and new positions, you finally go back home. Your essay is done and hopefully going through all this will get you an A+.

You’re on your couch with your dad, talking about how your day went while watching TV, obviously skipping the whole fucking your best friend part, when the broadcast is showing pictures of the woman Joel had to cover yesterday.

“Oh, look that’s her !” You say, excited. “That’s the woman we were with yesterday, didn’t talk to her, she seemed nice even though she’s a celebrity and they’re often viewed as self-centered and unaware but she-“

Your dad pauses the TV and looks at you with wide eyes, cutting you off. You look at the image on the wide flat screen and see you and Joel kissing in 4K HD right in front of your dad, furious. Your heart skips a beat, or multiple.

“You got some explaining to do, young girl.”

<3 Hr43s

[vivalabunbun]

Let's Look Over The Garden Wall

Summary: One wants an easy meal and one wants to play house. 

Word Count: 9.9k

Tags: Alhaitham x Fem!Reader, Smut(r18+), MDNI, Modern AU, Vampire AU, Contract Marriage, NSFW, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Unrequited love?, Vampire! Alhaitham, Dom! Alhaitham, Human! Reader, biting, pet name? (calls you good girl) TW: Blood & Blood drinking, TW: Death, Terminally ill! Reader, slight orgasm denial, slight corruption kink, wedding night, temperature play? He falls hard, slow fic, tragedy

Authors note: This whole fic was a challenge since I wanted to write it kinda from Alhaitham’s pov. I’m not really knowledgeable about vampires, so in this fic they’re just a type of monster and not undead, and vampire blood can turn humans into monsters. Enjoy!

Side note: Here is the other side, Finale

The secretary had just arrived at the office not too long ago, shift starting at six pm and going until midnight. The typical hours for a creature of the night. 

Like a sweet breeze that blew stray leaves through his office’s open window, a stranger came gallivanting through the boundaries of his door, contract in hand. Faruzan, the office receptionist trailing after you with your proper introduction. 

“Secretary Alhaitham, this young lady here would like to make a blood contract with you.” 

He certainly wasn’t expecting this when he walked through the sliding doors of the building. The biggest company in Sumeru, the firm that specialized in such dubious pacts. 

In an age where humans now outnumber vampires, with new technologies and weapons that can now threaten the once untouchable creatures, immortal beings now have to play by mortal rules. One such rule, vampires can no longer drink human blood. 

Animal substitutes were of course inferior in both taste and satisfaction, any vampire would know this. However, there’s a loophole to this law. Vampires can’t drink human blood legally unless it’s consensual by both parties, established through contracts. Business exchanges for money, power, or glory. 

Of course, this practice is heavily regulated. Hunters who uphold the balance ready to rip the hearts out of those who dare make an unfair deal. Alhaitham is the simple secretary who files these contracts, not one of the agents tasked with such things. 

Still, he’s intrigued. Even in this office there are many who have yet to see the face of this elusive vampire, how did this human identify him? He was looking for an excuse to stray away from dull lines of files, might as well entertain your musings. 

The ashen-haired immortal pulls out a seat for you, nodding to Faruzan sending her out of his office, giving you privacy. Alhaitham ambles to the other side of the polished wood, settling down on his plush office chair.

“The process for filling a contract is straightforward, even though this consultation wasn’t planned, if negotiations go well you’ll then undergo a psychological evaluation.”

You nodded your head lightheartedly, posture relaxed in the chair. 

“So,” he begins.

“What are your demands?” 

“Marry me.”

Dead silence. He certainly wasn’t expecting a proposal this Monday night. Were you wasting his time with a joke?

You must’ve read his unfazed mask. Quickly pulling a pen and notepad from your pocket.

“I’m being serious, I want you to be my husband.” Hands swiftly jotting sentences down on paper.

In your graceless handwriting, you listed all your qualifications. Age, name, blood type, and financial status. You also detailed some self-prescribed personality traits. 

Alhaitham skips over that section. 

Marriage contracts weren’t unheard of, nor were marriages between humans and vampires. He believes such practices weren’t deemed illegal solely because of human morbid curiosity and desires.

No immortal, with their centuries of knowledge and wisdom, would waste such energy on a mortal, without a price of course. It would be a fool’s errand to not have fair compensation.  

“For a fraction of your time, I’ll give you all of mine.” You point the pen toward him. 

How romantic. 

“I’d say you’re getting the better end of the deal, Mr. Alhaitham.” There’s a curl to your lips, resting your elbows upon his polished desk. 

With a slight sigh, Alhaitham pulls out a form, pen swiftly recording the necessary information. There’s going to be a long process of straightening out the clauses, but this should suffice for approval.

“Why me?” He inquires, straightening out the proposal on his desk.  

“You’re handsome, have money, and I like your voice.”

The rustling of papers and pens stopped. Dead unamused silence. 

“Pfft! Too brash? Sorry, sorry, I was only joking,” giggling as you waved it off. 

“Well, to be fair the real reason isn’t much better, to be honest.” You leaned in closer, creeping towards the unseen boundaries of his personal space.  

“I often see you passing through the streets, guess I got enamored from there.” Your smile was shameless but your cheeks were tinted pink. 

A hopeless romantic, that answer suffices him for now. He could’ve easily shown you the door, but life has been stagnant for a few decades. History repeats itself if you live long enough to see it, new occurrences are rare. As the sky deepens from indigo to midnight, two bodies sit across from each other, discussing sentences written on paper.

“I’ll contact you in three business days with the verdict, have a good night.”

“I shall await the news.” You beamed at him, warm and icy hands meeting for a handshake. 

Just as you entered, you left with that same giddiness. Now left with his thoughts, Alhaitham reviewed the documents, he had three days to ponder whether or not to submit them to the legal team, and through the judgment of a certain scarlet-eyed General Hunter. 

As per Sumeru regulations, all offices run by vampires must have uncovered glass windows. An attempt conquered by humans to enfeeble creatures of the night. Alhaitham’s beryl gaze traveled up the length of the building stationed across the street. 

What an ironic placement for a hospital to be facing the biggest firm staffed by immortality. Or perhaps it was strategic, after all the most desperate humans are the ones who lay upon their deathbeds for one last hurrah. 

The perfect scheme to keep the blood contracts flowing in. 

Teal eyes observe the room right across through the glass, it seems freshly vacant. New untouched sheets, new unflatten pillow, and fresh towels. 

Alhaitham can now confirm the validity of your statement, a half-truth. 

When deciding on a contract, one must weigh the pros and cons, to see if they balance or if one side gives away to another. Your demands? You wanted to experience married life, all aspects of it. Your offer? Your everything. 

All your assets together can’t hold a candle to the amount Alhaitham has accumulated for centuries, but it’s a decent amount. Perhaps due to a medical settlement. 

Alhaitham has lived long enough to rein in primal desires, he can suffice off animal substitutes just fine. However, it doesn’t mean he wouldn’t want a taste of the real thing again. You offer him a steady supply, and to give him every last drop after seven years.

Yes, all of this for a mere seven-year contract. A deal heavily tipped in the favor of the vampire, not even a mere fraction of the time immortality offers. However, what piqued his interest the most weren’t the benefits listed.

A garden wall the tall vampire can’t peer over. Insight only attainable by those who near the end of their finite paths. What’s it like to have agency? What’s it like to have such finite time? 

He’ll have seven years to observe. He submits the forms on the third day, delivering your verdict over the phone. Alhaitham agrees to entertain your little daydream. 

On part that it was Alhaitham who personally filed the forms, the approval process went swimmingly, skipping the paper line. Tighnari oversaw the psychological evaluation, test after test confirming the sanity of your mind, speeding up the process of getting that stamp.

–

“What flowers do you like? I’m planning the decorations.” Your legs swinging under his kitchen table. 

The contract was approved, hands held and certificates signed at the town hall, your belongings moved into his house. It’s excessive to want a celebration after all of that. 

“Whichever flowers you want.” 

Alhaitham will hold his tongue, after all, he’s signed to play the role of a husband.

–

The venue was spacious, high ceilings with marble floors and pillars, all of which were lavishly cluttered with Padisarahs, Sumeru Roses, and Kalpalata Lotuses. Alhaitham stood at the altar just off to the side of the wedding officiant. Tuxedo crisp and hands folded together, he scans over the rows of guests invited. 

Since there weren’t any in-laws, Alhaitham assumed you wouldn’t have much of a social network. No one’s correct all the time, he ignores the piercing glares of a few eyes. The all-too-loud tones of a grand piano resound through the room. The previously shut doors open to reveal your figure. Embellished dress and veil perfectly framed by the carved entranceway as you ambled your way up the aisle. 

The twilight hues of the sky dye the white gown in everchanging vibrancy as you passed by the standing crowd, up the steps to the altar, and finally in front of him. The overwhelmingly floral scent of the bouquet itches his nose. 

Alhaitham pays no mind to the soliloquy of the officiant, he simply follows the rehearsed procedures. Sliding the gold band onto your finger and allowing you to do the same to him, lifting the veil to reveal your starry-eyed gaze he places a practiced kiss against your warm lips.

Is this excessive ritual over yet? No.

Alhaitham stands in the corner of the reception hall, hand nursing a glass of wine. The rich spices of the buffet offered to the guest irritated his palate. Supernatural creatures with their enhanced senses, a double-edged sword. Human food serves no purpose to vampires, it’s over-seasoned and pungent. At least your species has created drinks such as coffee and wine, delicacies even immortal creatures can enjoy. 

In the center of the artificially lit hall, you eagerly greeted all your guests as they beamed at you. Giggling and hugging each person as an entourage of three friends helped with that embellished gown of yours. Two pairs of eyes from said entourage occasionally glared at him, their bodies forming a barrier to separate groom from bride. Candace and Dehya were the names you introduced to him. 

Your starry-eyed self blissfully unaware of the silent cold war as the scarlet-haired dancer calls the attention of the two hunters back for the bouquet toss. Alhaitham was nothing more than just a decoration, you just wanted an excuse to prance around in a pretty white dress and throw a fancy party. He’s your husband, he’ll tolerate this daydream.

–

“Did you enjoy the reception?” 

Only after the send-off and closing ceremony of the celebration, when the bride and groom were behind the thick oak doors of their suite, that you seemed to remember the decoration named ‘Alhaitham’. 

“Yes, it was lovely.” The wine provided by the venue was of the highest quality, it entertained him enough. 

“I hope you’re not upset at me being busy with guests.” Your arms found their way around his waist. 

Quite comfortable encroaching on his space huh. 

“I’m not.” Better they talk to you and not him. 

As his cold hands pat the exposed skin of your back, his teal eyes didn’t miss the trail of goosebumps that prickled your skin. Shall he move on to the next scene? The lacing of your dress seems quite complicated, he assumes that it must have taken a few pairs of hands to tie it. Should he be a good husband? 

“Do you need help with this?” His baritone voice was right against your ear, noticing the flush on the tips. 

“Yes.” For once your voice was just barely above a whisper, a blushing bride. 

The lacing weaved in and out of eyelets running down along the length of your back, how troublesome. Always one for efficiency, Alhaitham simply takes a handful of the taught lace and pulls, they snapped like simple threads. Such things offer no resistance to a creature of the night. The gasp that escaped your lips feed into something deep within. 

With the bonds loosened, the embellished dress of yours lost the fight against gravity, fabric pooling at your feet. Revealing to teal eyes the lacy white stockings, garter belt, and panties, all the hallmarks of a wedding night. It’s impossible to deny the hunger crawling up his throat, no force of nature could resist such a sight. 

“Aren’t you forgetting something? It’s rude to not offer the groom some help, no?” His hunger enjoyed that scarlet flush on your face.

Indecisive fingers going for the easiest button, opening the tuxedo jacket allowing him to shimmy it off his broad shoulders. Teal eyes continued to survey your flushed face, the smirk on his waiting for your hands to continue. Obeying his silent command like a good bride, you loosened the bow tie next, finally freeing him from that stiff collar. 

Slowly your eyes peered up, asking if the torment was over yet, the slight rise in his ash brow directing you to resume. From your lips came the beginnings of a whine to which he sternly shushed. If you couldn’t even undress him how would you be able to do the other vulgar activities? 

Finally relenting, your fingers continued with their clumsy attempt at unbuttoning his dress shirt, once a small window of his chest appeared your face pressed against the cool skin, staying there until all the buttons were undone. Oh? So even you can feel shame?

“Shall we continue on the bed, my bride?” 

Your face was still hidden in his chest as you nodded, where did that shameless nature of yours go? With your gaze adverted he didn’t even bother hiding the curl of his lips. Sweeping you off the ground, he could hear the flutter in your chest increasing as the distance between the bed closes. 

Upon silk sheets, Alhaitham settles down with you in between his legs and back against his chest. One key difference between humans and vampires? Body heat, one creature’s cells produces warmth, while the other simply remains the temperature of the environment. Your flushed skin seared itself into his, icy and hot mending together to create an equilibrium. 

Of course, a good husband would warm his wife up. Alhaitham runs his cool palms along the length of your plush thighs and leg, absorbing the warmth as his own, soothing the shivers and goosebumps on your skin. Every now and then boldly creeping up the sides of your waist to twist at your perked nipples, enjoying every jolt and whine. 

“Oh? Since when was this transparent?” 

A firm hand grasps your chin, directing your vision towards white lace panties, the fingers on his other hand tracing over the shape of your cunt through the soaked fabric. Another lovely whine left your lips, face burning even more as you weakly protested in his hold, too powerless to do anything. 

Skilled digits honed in on the nub that made your body jolt away, rubbing the faintest of circles over the delicate fabric, your legs trapped by his robust arms standing no chance to preserve your shattered dignity. As such, you had to follow his desires tonight. 

“Or are you excited just by a few fleeting touches? What a lewd bride you are.” 

It seems that you were telling the whole truth when you exclaimed how much you liked his voice, his finger could feel the slick that began to seep through the lace. Brushing the fabric to the side, Alhaitham allowed his middle finger to collect the slick along your slit allowing the rest of his digits to warm up against your cunt’s soft mounds. His throat felt parched as the sweet scent teased his nose, but now was not the time, maybe later in the night. 

“Will you be honest?” The heel of this palm freely pressed against your clit as his middle finger continued to run up and down your wet lips, every now and then almost slipping. 

Your body couldn’t hide its eagerness, hole clenching at nothing every time his finger passed by. However, he needed confirmation from you. Communication is important in a contract no?

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“I’ll be honest.” You pressed your back flat against his chest, trying to hide your face but his firm hold wouldn’t allow it. 

“Good girl, then tell me what you desire.” His crisp breath provides your searing skin some relief. 

Your plush lips pressed into a thin line as your eyes shut, cheeks heating up even more. It wouldn’t be good if you passed out from heat exhaustion so quickly. He grinds his palm into that sensitive nub, tormenting the answer out of you, nectar now dripping onto the sheets below. 

“I want to c-cum,” You breathed out. 

How direct, close but it wasn’t what he was looking for. 

“You have to be more clear with your instructions, how do you want to cum?” 

“Y-your fingers.” 

“Good girl.” Finally, his finger breached your soaked entrance. 

Pulsating walls welcomed him with unyielding squeezes, dragging his soaked digit further. Your sweet moans and whines resounded through the spacious suite, the volume of your voice directing him toward that spongey spot deep within. You were wet enough for another finger, so Alhaitham adds another, two digits stretching and exploring your soaked cavern. 

“Mmmh! T-there!” Your toes were curling. 

“Mmm.” The hum vibrated in his chest as his fingers went hard at work, thrusting into your quivering walls. 

Each time his palm would slap against your clit your honest hole would clench down so endearingly. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, the muscles in your leg tensing up more and more. It’s obvious that you were close, but before he fulfilled your demands, he decided to be proactive and prepare for the next step. 

Releasing your chin from his grasp, allowing your head to lull back against his shoulder. Alhaitham reaches between your bodies, hands never pausing their pace, swift fingers undoing the confines of his trousers. Allowing for his member to lay right against your back, the jolt of your body at the foreign object pressing against you made his hunger worse. 

“Did you get more turned on? You’re clenching down tighter, did you want it that badly?” 

Even if your eyes refused to meet his, the way your hips grind against his length, warming it up, told him all he needed to know. Your gummy walls constrict more around his fingers, it’s time to wrap up this scene, the next one is even more exciting. So his palm now digs into your clit, circling the now swollen bud in combination with his finger pressing against that nice spot deep inside. 

“C-cummin-” 

How cute, he didn’t even need to ask you to announce it. Letting your body ripple with the force of the orgasm, trembling limbs within his solid hold. If he was merciful, he would’ve continued to slide his fingers in and out, or maybe continue to caress your little nub, guiding you back to reality. However, hunger doesn’t allow for mercy. 

Removing his soaked digits away from your pulsating cunt, teal eyes observing the transparent strings that clung to them with amusement. A small appetizer wouldn’t spoil the main meal, skilled tongue cleaning his fingers of your slick. Your head still limp against his shoulder, eyes rolled back in the throws of pleasure. To bring you back down to earth, it's best to use a new type of force. 

Effortlessly, your hips were lifted up dripping cunt lined up with his impatient length below. In one fluid motion, your walls encase everything, drenched cunt giving no resistance as his tip kisses the spongy spot. Alhaitham lets a hiss escape him, it was as if he thrusted into the sun, your walls quickly bringing his member up to its temperature. 

From your lips another moan was ripped out, oh it seems that you’ve plummeted back to reality. Your cunt trembled yet gripped onto his cock like a vice, coaxing him to go in deeper, encouraging his hunger to abuse your gummy walls even more. Barely riding out one wave of pleasure before another drowned you. 

The hunters at your wedding could stick to your side the whole celebration, they could glare at him all they wanted, and they could try their damndest to keep the vampire at a distance. However, it was all efforts wasted in vain. For it was you, the blushing bride, who walked straight into his arms in the end, so open and receptive. 

As he slides out just the slightest bit, your cunt protested by desperately clamping down, begging for his thick girth to stay in. In response he tightened his grip on your hips, lifting your body back up before bouncing you back down. What a glutton for pleasure you were, even as your little mouth whimpered and babbled, your walls thanked each slap of his hips with squeezes. 

Sadistic hunger wanted more, to thrust deeper, to bully that poor spot inside of you over and over again with his thick tip as your walls stretch to accommodate the girth. His thighs collected the mixture of sweat and slickness from your body at each thrust. Your fingers dug into his hands, fingers white as you tried to grasp at anything to ground yourself. 

“F-fast, too m-much.” There was drool escaping the corner of your parted lips, eyes barely back from seeing the inside of your head. 

“Oh? Do you want me to stop?”

Alhaitham grinds to a stop, member still pressing deep inside you as he pulled you closer so his breath could ghost over your nape. In an instant, your mouth and cunt protested, you should be more clear with your instructions. 

“N-noo.” Crying over the ruined tension. 

“No? You wanted this.” His finger finds its way back to that swollen nub, flicking it a few times to watch the jumps of your body.

“If I let you cum, then I’ll do it my way, is that clear, my bride?” Tormenting your clit with firm circles. 

“Yes! Please! P-pleasee.”

So weak against his voice, the sweet calls of a beast to lure you into the depths of depravity. Such is the fate of a shameless bride. Thus, his hips sprang back into action with renewed vigor. One hand keeps your hips still and the other remains on your clit to force that knot to reappear deep inside you. 

Nothing but nonsense and moans babbled from your loose face, nectar dripping down to his heavy balls as they slapped against you with each pistoning of his hips. Your frantic hands entangled themselves into ash-mint locks as he felt gummy walls closing in tighter and tighter, your toes curling at the end of spread legs. Sinful slaps increased in frequency throughout the room as did the pace of the finger on your clit. 

Your tense body held the warning of another storm, another fall off the edge into the depths. Alhaitham brushes his nose up your nape, the floral scent didn’t distract him from the goal laying just behind the skin. Your nerves were exhausted from the shooting pleasure, now was the perfect time to finally get his share. It’s only fair. 

Prepping the area with a slow lick as his hips continued their brutal pace, incisors brushed against the delicate skin before piercing through. His hand shot up from your hip to your neck, a loose grip holding you still as your body tensed then violently shivered. The frenzy clamping of your cunt on his length was proof of your fall. Loose jaw uttering out broken moans as tears dripped down your chin. 

The fresh scarlet flooded over his tongue and down his throat as Alhaitham continued with his slow suckling. Ah, you were very much like a flower, so delicate, so fragrant, and so bittersweet. It’s been almost a century since he last tasted the real thing, his body celebrated by filling your walls with thick release. An equivalent exchange of some sort. 

A human body is quite frail, losing over two pints of blood borders on fatal territory. It’s not good to deplete a resource so quickly. Alhaitham releases your neck, running his tongue over the wound to seal it up. Teal eyes checked your complexion to ensure his measurements were accurate. Cheeks still with a healthy red flush as your chest heaved with pants, eyes glistening with tears. Such a shameless sight. He allows your head to roll onto his shoulder. 

The rhythm of your heart settles back to its resting state as Alhaitham analyzes the taste he just experienced. 

“I love you,” you breathed into his shoulder. 

Alhaitham stiffens, the herbal aftertaste of your blood was bitter, the tang dried out his mouth causing a drawn-out pause. This is no good, he can’t miss the cue to say the line a bride longs to hear from her groom. 

“I love you too.” 

The choir of crickets from the world outside filled the void along with your pants.

“Pfft! Maybe let’s not say that, it’s too weird.” You shamelessly laughed, lifting your face from his skin. 

What a relief, at least you seem to still have sense. Such words felt forcefully wedged into a script that wasn’t written for it. Might as well remove the line altogether. Moving on from the scene, Alhaitham lets you enjoy the warmth reflected off his body by yours. 

It’s in the clauses to allow you to enjoy all aspects of marriage, so enjoy this honeymoon segment.

“Haitham, can you carry this for me please?”

“Haitham, I can’t reach, can you get it please?”

“Haitham, let’s have panipuri tonight!... Can you cook it please?”

It would’ve been better if he remained nothing more than just a decoration. It would’ve been easier if he was just a view for you to see behind glass. Perhaps Alhaitham’s acute eyes misread the contract, did you want a husband or just a maid? 

Instead of sitting down in his own house to enjoy a book, he finds himself saddled with domestic responsibilities. 

Must you call on him for everything?

Laundry and groceries aren’t that heavy. If you can’t reach the top shelves with the duster, then just get a chair. No ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ could prevent the downward tug of his lips every time you call him that doltish name. Your justification of a ‘nickname’ between lovers was moronic. 

“Huh… Haitham how come you only use salt?”

Why do you make a creature who doesn’t consume such foods cook them? You’re more than capable of cooking for yourself every day. Although, Alhaitham would prefer it if you stopped using such overly fragrant herbs and spices. 

Of course, when two breaths occupy the same space, there are bound to be pieces that don’t fit together, just as two breaths never sync. Alhaitham already factored those into his decision, but this was more proof of why a theory is always second to application. How troublesome the reality of marriage is, no wonder divorce rates are so high. 

A good actor knows how to stay in character, so he’ll keep these thoughts to himself. Just as he lists your quirks silently. 

One, you’re capricious. One moment silently enjoying a drama on the TV you asked him to purchase, body hogging the entire expanse of a couch. The next, you’ll be humming as plates and cups clatter in the sink, or the heavy thumps of your steps as you bound through the house with a mop. Alhaitham prefers it when you’re stationary, at least it doesn’t disturb his reading.

–

Two, you drink tea, an unfathomable amount of it. A warm cup always nestled between your fingers, bitter water mixed with honey. The herbal tang finds its way into your blood, making it taste like medicine. Thus, Alhaitham treats it as such, medicine just to alleviate suppressed bloodlust taken in moderation. 

–

Three, you wanted to celebrate everything. Each square of a calender marked with scribbles. Why celebrate a celebration that’s already past? What is so special about a birthday? The past two years you purchased the same bundle of pungent flowers that made up that bouquet on that day to gift to him. 

“Don’t you want a taste? I saved a slice just for you. Oh, would you eat it if I sprinkled some of my blood on it?”

Alhaitham swiftly accepts the plate from you, lifting the fork of overly sweet birthday cake into his mouth. Useless carbs take up space in his body, but such a thing causes no harm. Better to taste like pure sugar and not medicine. 

–

The worst quirk of yours? You rise as soon as the sun greets the sky, adamant to not miss a single second of a day. Every day’s itinerary is filled with spur-of-the-moment decisions, such as going to a farmers market only open on Saturdays between the hours of 9 am and 2 pm. And how you drag him along. 

 Curses, only a human would drag a creature of the night into the day. What sadistic creatures, delighting in others' misery, you’re no exception. 

“I thought you said vampires aren’t like how TV depicts them.” Curious eyes observe his slouched figure. 

Vampires aren’t like how those dramas of yours depict them. No formal invitation to cross wooden thresh holds, no garlic braids as an effective shield, and no turning into a pile of ash at the mere rays of a star. 

If so, then vampires would’ve been long gone by now. However, just because the sunlight can’t kill a vampire-

“It doesn’t mean it’s not unpleasant.” His stoic voice was too tired to add a bite. 

You continued to stare at him with wonderment, as if what he said was the most complex theory known to the universe. Those dramas must’ve rotted that mind of yours, he concludes. You’re beyond saving. 

“I see.” Gentle hands lift the excessive sun hat from your head. 

Reaching on your tiptoes you place it atop his head, the straw brim providing some reprieve for his irritated skin. Shuffling the hat around until it’s securely nested along his now trussed ash locks. Satisfied, you lower yourself back down. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. We can go home..” 

Tenderly, your hands clasped around his, guiding him into the shade. The whole walk your hands never left his, eyes always searching for the next patch of shadows to lead him into. For the rest of the weekend, you just watched your dramas, the sensation of guilt must’ve muted your voice. 

Good. He celebrated this rare break in his library away from you.

Alas, all good things must come to an end. Monday night rolled around again, as he passes the living room, he spots your loafing body napping on his couch as the TV acted as white noise. Tsk. Regardless, it’s time to get to work, he walks toward the front door.

“Wait,” came a soft command, dripping with sleep. 

From around the corner, your figure comes stumbling towards Alhaitham, his hand still firmly on the knob. Hands busy trying to rub the fatigue away from your eyes, blinking away the pleasant dream you were just in. 

Why did you abandon it? Alhaitham doesn’t know. 

Your frame reaches his, transferring some of your warmth to him, arms outstretched towards his neck. Teal eyes don’t miss the way your drowsy legs were wobbling. To prevent any accidents, he supports your body with an arm around the waist. 

Just as he feels your body steady, clammy palms encase the sides of his face. Pulling it down as your supple lips pressed against his cool cheek. Did you traverse all the way from the sofa just for a kiss? 

“Have a good night at work.” Your shameless smile beamed. 

A habit formed from one of your dramas, a wife bidding goodbye to her husband with a sweet kiss to boost his spirits. Curiosity must have gotten the better of you, or maybe you wanted to amuse yourself, two possibilities Alhaitham devises. 

–

“So, how’s married life treating you?” Kaveh’s smug tone grated against his eardrums as the blond rested an elbow on the bar table. 

Alhaitham couldn’t stop the frown from forming, nor the heavy sigh, so he took a hearty sip of his wine. Emptying the glass in one fluid motion. 

“Heh, I see you’ve been enjoying the spoils of marriage very much,” Tighnari snickered. 

“Sure, if you wish to see it that way.” Alhaitham’s hand found itself pouring another glass. 

It seems that everyone around the ashen-haired vampire was enjoying the spoils of this odd union, everyone but him that is. His miseries fueling the chaff nature of his acquaintances, still he needed a reprieve to drink. 

Not that herbal blood of yours, but something actually palatable like the fragrant wine washing the frustrations down his throat. It’s not marriage, it’s having to work overtime. 

“Regardless, you signed a contract, you must uphold the clauses.” Cyno’s scarlet eyes leered over the rim of his glass. 

Alhaitham sighs, he should’ve drank alone. 

–

The tavern wasn’t a far journey away from his house. The deep hues of night slowly shift to the youthful flushes of dawn. He’s been drinking for quite some time, it didn’t matter, alcohol has no effect on a body such as his. 

Alhaitham twists the key, the door creaking ajar just to reveal your figure with arms crossed. Disappointment ever so clear in those eyes of yours. 

“Where’ve you been?” No chirp in your tone. 

After a few hours of reprieve, Alhaitham is welcomed home with an interrogation. Wonderful. Why should he answer this meek creature standing in front of him? He could just walk to bed and get the rest he deserves. 

‘You must uphold the clauses.’ 

Right, Alhaitham has to play the role of a husband, he signed a contract, too late to just burn the papers now. 

“I went drinking with coworkers,” he curtly answers. 

“Why didn’t you call beforehand?” Your head tilts, disappointed eyes still honed on him. 

Why does he have to inform you of his every movement? Who were you to demand so much of his individuality? Alhaitham couldn’t help the frown that reappeared, directed at you, the hurdle that blocked him from entering his own home. 

The grandfather clock counted the seconds in the background, two sets of eyes locked in a stare-down. One frowning and one disappointed. How long will this last?

Your shoulders slumped as a sigh left your lungs. Eyes finally finding rest behind two heavy lids. 

“My life’s too short for misunderstandings and messy communication,” you huffed. 

Your back straightens again as you lean in closer, eyes recentering on his towering form. They no longer held the burden of disappointment, they twinkled with something else. 

“I’m your wife, and you’re my husband.” You stated the obvious.

“So when my husband, who usually arrives home at half past midnight on the dot, didn’t arrive home until dawn without a single text or call. I got worried.” 

What wasted concern, why worry for an immortal creature?

“You don’t need to report every movement to me, I don’t want that either, but if you plan on staying out please give me a simple text. So I don’t have to spend hours worrying about why my husband isn’t answering my calls.” 

Alhaitham scans over the discoloration hanging heavily under your eyes. An unpleasant sensation crawled up his spine. Phone shut off by habit, unaware of how you were losing sleep as he emptied bottle after bottle. He has to remedy the situation now, it’s what a husband should do. 

“I understand, I’ll do that from now on,” he answers. 

Is he allowed back into the confines of his own house now?

Your hands were now positioned defiantly on your hips, brows quirked up as if expecting something more. 

No. 

“You’re supposed to apologize, ya know. ‘I’m sorry, I’ll do better next time, my wife’,” you advised. 

“I’m sorry, I’ll do better next time, my wife,” he parroted. 

The magic words to finally open the path into the house, words that finally returned that grin to your face. Arms outstretched you wrapped them around his neck as your lips warmed up his cool cheek. 

“Welcome home, Haitham.” 

Ah, he knows what that twinkle in your eyes was, sincerity. 

Audiences rarely see the behind-the-scenes of a movie, with directors always handpicking which mistakes are charming enough to be shown as a blooper. Audiences don’t see the multiple scenes filmed then refilmed, they can’t experience the long hours, and they don’t know how many times lines were misread. Three years is enough time for actors to learn their lines. 

“Is my drama too loud?”

Alhaitham peers over the top of the journal, focusing on your face peeking through the entrance of his library. Judging by the apron, he guesses it's almost time for dinner, the dialogue playing on the TV was just above a muffle from here. 

“It’s fine, remember to turn on the kitchen hood.”

“Okay, which wine did you want to baste the meat in?”

“Top left, how long will it take?”

“Pfft, famished already? 15 minutes, you won’t waste away in that time right, Haitham?”  

The ever-so-adventurous palate of yours and the ever-so-drab palate of his. An unstoppable force meeting an immovable object, two existences that bend and twist each other until equilibrium. Equilibrium in the form of a steak basted in red wine, rare for him and medium for you. A dinner that could be enjoyed by both breaths. 

–

“Oh?” Your bewildered eyes blink at the bouquet presented to you. 

A wrapped box held tenderly in your hands. Alhaitham had taken note of a certain scribble marked on the calendar, it was he who got the fourth bouquet. Placing an order ahead of time to ensure the freshest flowers. 

“You said they smelled bad.”

“I’m used to it.” A half-truth. 

Your lips couldn’t suppress its toothy grin, balancing the box in one hand as the other accepts the bouquet. 

“Since you have every book in existence, I got you something else.” You nudged the wrapped present toward him. 

Unraveling the decorative paper his eyes were greeted by the sight of a carved figure of a… what is it? Meeting your eager gaze, the quirk in his eyebrow told enough. 

“It’s a hawk, I saw in storage that you used to collect these decorations.” 

Ah, you found a petty hobby he had decades ago to torment a certain someone. A figure serves no practical purpose in a home, but the eagerness of your eyes was enough to find the endearing gift a place on a shelf. 

–

“How does one make their blood tastier?” You pondered into his embrace. 

His tongue traveled up the nape of your neck to collect the escaped drops of scarlet and to close up the wound. Your bare skin pressed against his, rising his temperature to a pleasant warmth. 

He could feel every shiver as his length shifted within your overstimulated walls, recovering the overwhelming pleasure experienced just moments earlier. 

What an obvious answer, stop drinking that tea of yours. However, Alhaitham prefers when you have the energy to trot through crowded walkways at dusk with him in tow. Bittersweetness is an acquired taste, one that took him some time. 

“Since you have enough clarity to ask questions, I’m assuming you’re up for another round.” His husky breath ghosts over your ear.

“Wait~ I’m still sens-Ah!” 

–

Over time, something as short as five years, even a trickle of water can crave a home for itself in the rocky foundations of the earth that’s existed since the dawn of time.

The side of the polished dinner table with the clearest view of the TV was your side. 

The mug left in the sink with the faint aroma of tea and sweet honey was your mug.

The couch with cushions misshapen and molded by repeated use was your couch.

 Such is the lull of domestic reality, each kiss at the door to bid goodbye and each kiss to welcome him back.

Nothing, not even immortality, is resistant to time.

Due to the crowd you’ve built your circle from, hunters were semi-frequent guests at his home. Much to your delight and his dismay. A husband should get along with his wife’s friends. 

“Your complexion has gotten paler.” Candace’s heterochromatic eyes narrowed, her hands turning your face from side to side. 

“Mmm, I haven’t been going out during the day as much.” Resting the weight of your head within her palms. 

“Bullshit, he’s been using you like livestock,” Dehya snapped. 

“Mmm? Not really, he says my blood taste like leaves.” Halfheartedly lifting your face out of Candace’s warm hold. 

“Don’t cover for that bastard,” the Flame-Mane hunter scowls. 

“Need I remind you ‘that bastard’ is still in the room?” Alhaitham breaks his silence. 

“Who said you could speak?” Sapphires clash with beryls. 

“Who’s home are you currently guests in?” 

Even without glancing down, Alhaitham could tell that Dehya’s hand was twitching to reach for the silver dagger hidden up her sleeve. The hand then falters back down, Candace must’ve also noticed, steadfast eyes sending a warning to the other hunter. 

“Of all people, why did you have to marry this vampire?” Dehya turns to you exasperated. 

“Mmm,” you hummed. 

With the finger pressed against your lip and your eyes wandering up towards nothing, Alhaitham couldn’t tell if you were deep in thought or just faking it.

Your pondering filled the room with silence, three pairs of eyes intently trained on your frame. Eyelids closed as you deepened your thought. After a few beats, they fluttered back open.  

“Because he’s just too handsome.” There’s that shameless smile again. 

The disgusted expression that plastered itself all over the hunter’s face at your response almost pushed a quiet laugh from his lips. However, Alhaitham wanted to avoid a physical confrontation from starting in his house. 

If there’s one virtue you have, it’s that you’re a fair person. You perplex your friends and husband to equal degrees. 

It’s now time for the hunters to start their night, much like how Alhaitham will soon report to the office. The two women and you were now at the threshold of the door bidding goodbye, their skeptical eyes every now and then glaring behind you at the vampire. 

“Oh, one more thing,” your voice perks up. 

Arms encapsulated two sturdy frames, pulling them close against yours. 

“I love you guys.” Your words make the two robust warriors take a sharp inhale, bodies tensing up momentarily. 

“We love you too, very much.” Candace’s voice forced itself to steady. 

“Yeah.” Dehya pulled you closer. 

After a few beats, you pulled away from your friends. Lighthearted grin lopsided on your face. 

“Alright then, stay safe out there,” you chimed, waving at them. 

After their figures disappeared from view, Alhaitham shut the oak door. You still peered out the curtains, daydreaming something as the stars reflected in your eyes. He observes for a moment before he collects the cups and dishes that once held tea and sweets to entertain bygone guests. 

You were already surrounded by love, genuine love. Why did you sell your soul to experience something you already had? Alhaitham will save that question for another day.

Would you try saying that line to him again? Maybe this time he read his line without hesitation.

–

Alhaitham’s heavy lids shot open. The unwelcome greetings of morning birds signaled the time of day. Keen eyes scanned over the empty space beside him, sheets still trussed in the shape of a smaller figure. The bird songs rang like sirens, heightening his senses. 

For once his ageless body left the bed without protest, swift steps pattering through the dim halls until the backyard came into view. Sunlight poured in through the open door, the wooden mounts perfectly framing your slumped figure. 

Tired body balancing upon the basket of damp laundry, halfway from the backdoor and clothes line, you stopped to take labored breaths. 

Swiftly he was by your side, towering stature blocking you from the harsh rays. Alhaitham lifts your fatigued body from the ground, giving your aching legs relief. Even with the sun hanging high in the sky, your skin didn’t absorb an ounce of warmth. 

He takes you to the safety of the dim house, settling you onto the soft cushions of your couch. 

“Don’t push yourself.” Alhaitham shifts a few pillows behind your back. 

“I wasn’t, the laundry needs to be hung,” you huffed. 

“Just call for me.” 

You sounded out a whine of protest, but your breathing steadied. Alhaitham moves to stand back to full height, ready to finish the task awaiting out in the sun. 

“Wait,” came your soft call. 

Plucking your favorite sun hat off, you bestowed it upon unkempt ash locks still dusted with sleep. Fussing with the oversized straw brim until it stayed in place. Once satisfied you beamed, fingers caressing his smooth cheeks before placing a peck from curled lips. 

“Thank you, Haitham.” 

Adamant hands smoothed over the damp clothes, ensuring that they didn’t dry on the line with wrinkles that stayed stubbornly. The morning rays felt like sand against his exposed skin, but the hat bestowed upon him made it tolerable. 

–

“It’s dusk, would you like to stroll through the market tonight?” Beryl eyes inspect the curled figure of his wife among cushions and blankets. 

“Mmm, maybe not tonight.” You sink deeper into your couch, drama long forgotten. 

“I see.” Alhaitham moves to the armchair just adjacent to you, a frequent perch of his now. 

“Come here?” 

Just as you finished blinking Alhaitham was by your side again. Slowing lifting your upper body just off the cushion, you pat the now free space, welcoming him to sit. He wouldn’t be a good husband if he were to deny such a request. So he sits. 

Once the ashen-haired vampire was fully situated, your head found its place upon his thighs. 

“Lap pillow,” there was that giggle of yours. 

Alhaitham sighs, but he couldn’t prevent the corner of his lips from curling up, so he hides it with his book. This must be something you learned from those dramas again. He’ll humor it. 

His cool fingers run along your scalp as his teal eyes switched between your resting face and the words printed along the aged paper.

Maybe not today, perhaps tomorrow when the rays of a selfish star kiss your cheeks.

–

The drinks were served quietly, the tavern didn’t seem as lively tonight. Perhaps because it’s the busy season, Spring air carries with it the signs of renewing life and tax forms. 

“So, how is she, the wife?” Kaveh traverses the stagnant air. 

What a redundant question, Alhaitham knows they can smell the fragrance lingering on his body from you, the aroma of flowers only found in a garden beyond a line immortals can cross. The scent of an ending journey. 

“I’ll send some more Kalpalata Lotus tea, one cup a day should help with lethargy.” Tighnari prescribes, making a mental note to prepare the delivery once he returns home. 

“Thank you, how much would I owe?”

“None, just a gift for your wife.” 

Alhaitham hums in gratitude, and the table continued to play cards placidly. Throughout the rounds, his teal eyes stole glances over to a dark screen. 

The group dispersed at dawn, but it wasn’t long before Alhaitham acknowledged the presence behind him. 

“Alhaitham.” 

He only glanced over his shoulder at the tan vampire. 

“Remember the punishment that awaits those who dare disturb the cycle of life.” A threatening crackle resounded from the curled fingers by Cyno’s side. 

Alhaitham already knows and Cyno knows it all too well. After all, the privilege of a good true death was stolen away from the white-haired man many years ago. Cursing the shorter man to eternity. Thus, Cyno now spends eternity punishing those who dare break the most sacred law.

Alhaitham responds with a nod and with that the two men parted ways as the rosy hues of dawn dyed the sky. You’re probably in bed already, it’ll be his kiss to announce his return.

–

In an age where humans outnumber vampires, with new technologies and weapons that can now threaten once untouchable creatures, immortal beings now have to obey mortal laws. The most sacred of laws, vampires cannot turn humans into immortal beings. It’s illegal, it’s immoral even to curse such fleeting creatures with eternity. 

However, vampires are creatures born outside the grace of god from the very start, lurking in the shadows of iconoclasm. What difference would it make? 

It’s his night to make dinner, steak with red wine sauce. 

What is the difference between blood and wine to the inattentive eye? The scarlet hues could be easily mixed. All it would take is a sprinkle, drops stirred into the fragrant sauce served over the juicy meat, for you to abandon your humanity. For the ticking of a grandfather clock to stop its hands.

Who wouldn’t want more time? 

A scene from a night now long past resurfaces at the front of Alhaitham’s mind. 

–

“Would you want more time?” Came a question that broke the silence after a moment of passion. 

Your damp skin glistens under the moonlight, your chest rising and falling as the lust slowly blinks away from your eyes. Alhaitham’s hand on your back guides you down from cloud nine. You stared at him inquisitively, teal reflecting back to him as he remains silent. 

Ashen hair tussled and scratches fading away from cooling skin, he awaits your answer, schemes manifesting. 

You let out a hum, signing that you’ll humor his question this time, as your face rests against the pillow comforted by his woodsy scent. 

–

If you had more time, he would have more time. More time to pick your brain. More time to search through the archives of your thoughts to decrypt you. More time to grovel at your feet for forgiveness after he rips the humanity away from your arms. 

Alhaitham is a prideful thing, but he’s not a dense fool. He knows when an apology is necessary, insight gained from his time shared with you. 

Teal eyes glance back behind him towards the living room, where your figure sat quietly, attention distracted by the pair of lovers on screen in the midst of a tense argument. Never once turning behind to glance into the kitchen, not one ounce of suspicion. The scene finishes.

–

“I was born a human.” Your lids opened again, meeting his beryl-like eyes. 

Irises pure like the moonlight reflected in them. He hums in acknowledgment, fingers tracing mindless scripts into your tender back. 

“I will die as one.”

He hums in confirmation. 

–

A riddle he couldn’t quite solve to bypass the sphinx who guards the sanctuary of your mind. Humans are greedy creatures of conquest, always wanting more, always hungry for more. That’s why creatures like him exist and thrive, feeding into the natural greed of humans. 

Every human wants more power, more money, more wisdom. Every human wants more and more and more. Every human, so why can’t you want more? It seems that the breeze who gallivanted into his office, proposing to him with a contract, won’t reveal her secret. 

As it was outlined on the paper signed by two names, he shall honor your wishes for now until the end, such is the character of a husband. 

Alhaitham runs his hand under the kitchen sink, shameless eyes watching as the water turns clear again, and as the skin closes up. A feature only a creature born outside the jurisdiction of god would have. 

He finishes the meal with a few sprinkles of freshly cut herbs, serving the untainted sauce over juicy cuts of steak, one cooked medium and one cooked rare. He calls you over to the dinner table. 

The average human life span has increased drastically in the past centuries, it’s now about eighty years give or take. 

Still a mere fraction of the time held by vampires. 

Eighty years, and yet you could only have a fraction of that. You could only offer him a sliver of a fraction. 

–

“It’s been a while since you’ve fed, aren’t you hungry?” Your eyes peered over at him. 

Alhaitham wipes the washcloth along your back from beside the porcelain tub, steamy water carrying the fragrance of Nilotpala Lotuses. The humidity of the bathroom made the shirt cling to his skin like a wet rag, but the moisture helped with your coughs. 

“I’m satisfied.” Another half-truth, teal eyes scan for any signs of discomfort, he can bare it. 

“Really? I’m sure my blood doesn’t taste like leaves anymore.” You rested your cheek again on the warm washcloth, eyes twinkling under the fluorescent lights as you looked into his. 

The gift by Tighnari sitting untouched in the corner of a cabinet. Perhaps you’ve gotten tired of the bitter herbal taste, or maybe because there wasn’t a point in drinking it anymore.

Alhaitham fought the urge to click his tongue at your brash humor, only you would worry about how you taste during the closing days of a contract. However, his lips couldn’t form a frown when you beamed at him like that.

–

On the path to work, beryl eyes landed upon a bouquet arranged with familiar flowers, the petals dyed by the rich hues of dusk. The florist was busy gathering up the displays to bring them back inside for the night. 

“Excuse me, I’d like to purchase this bouquet.” 

That night at the office, the staffed vampires crinkled their noses at the overwhelmingly floral scent that plagued the floor. Alhaitham just shut his office door, bouquet resting in a hastily prepared vase, such a thing won’t kill a vampire it’s such a minuscule issue. 

“I’m home.” He locks the door after him. 

Keen hearing not picking up the pattering of feet along the hardwood floor. Placing the flowers on the entranceway table along with his dress shoes, the ashen-haired immortal trekked through the halls, silence ringing in his ears. 

Behind the solid bedroom lay his answer, turning the knob, Alhaitham feels tense muscles loosen as the steady melody of breaths resounded through the room. 

You’ve been here since this afternoon, body now imprinted into the plush mattress. Still, your blood still runs and your chest still rises, even if there were faint hints of wheezing it was good enough. Quiet as a shadow, Alhaitham removes his blazer and tie before joining you under the sheets. He’s been craving sleep. 

A timeless body doesn’t need sleep, ageless cells don’t require such downtime to recover. However, claiming that vampires don’t enjoy sleep would be a blatant lie. A calm way to pass the endless time offered by eternity, a nice way to escape boredom. 

Or maybe it’s because sleep gives immortal creatures a taste of an experience they’ll never have. Peaceful expiry. 

Teal eyes observe the ever-present curl of your lips before cool lips are pressed against your plush ones. A habit formed after six years. The flowers were still left at the door, but they’ll survive the night. Alhaitham will show them to you in the morning, and you’ll beam that grin at him in the morning. 

–

Fresh flowers rested in a vase gifted by friends on the nightstand, the last flowers of Spring. The delicate blooms give way to the vibrant greens of Summer. Such a cruel season for vampires, with days so long and nights so short. A cruel season that offered your body no additional warmth. 

Alhaitham’s hand brushes against the apples of your cheeks, your unconscious body protests in an instant with shivers and curls away from the thief stealing what precious heat you had. As if burned by fire, the vampire retracts his hand. 

Right, he can’t be greedy. Teal eyes watch every tremor until his legs finally remembered how to walk. Pacing to the closet Alhaitham pulls the Winter covers out from storage, insulating your body with the thick duvet. 

The layers form a barrier protecting you from icy touches as he smooths out the wrinkles. 

When humans walk into a garden, their eyes are immediately drawn toward the most beautiful blooms. Watching intently at how the petals of the young blossom unravel, their senses enjoying the heavenly fragrance. It’d only be a matter of seconds before their inevitable greed takes over, and they wish to claim the flower as their own. 

In this sense, the gods are no different than the mortals who were crafted in their image. Greedy to pluck the most beautiful blooms from the garden for their mere amusement. 

Is that what went on behind the garden wall those born outside the jurisdiction of god couldn’t peer over? Alhaitham wonders if you’d answer this inquiry of his. However, if he wants answers, he’ll have to ask soon. 

How should he say the last lines of this script?

Alhaitham ponders. There wasn’t a director to give a cue, no parenthetical to follow. Perhaps he’s entertaining such futile thoughts to distract himself.

With each wheeze of your chest, the itch in his palm grew unbearable. His thumb begged to dig its nail into the smooth skin until scarlet droplets trickled out. However, it never got its chance for soon your ailing fingers occupied the space, interlocking to halt its motion as gold rings clinked together. 

“My husband is such a handsome actor.” Breathy voice babbling with a giggle. 

Alhaitham’s cool skin hogged your warmth, trying to permanently sear the temperature into itself. 

“You don’t have to play this role anymore.” You craned your neck away with a deep exhale, exposing the vulnerable skin to him. 

There’s nothing viler to a vampire than stagnant blood. Blood that no longer runs tastes rotten, cold blood is worst than bile. Your blood still ran warm, he could sense it. This time it was his incisors that itched. 

Keen eyes don’t miss the way your nape prickled at the breath that ghosted over it as his lips parted. Your lids gently shut, bracing yourself. The incisors brushed against your exposed jugular, but they couldn’t break through the delicate skin. They wouldn’t. They just wouldn’t. 

Like the cowards they were, they retreated. Alhaitham closes his lips, deciding to press a tender kiss on the spot instead. His free hand guides your head back into a comfortable position on the plush pillow. 

“You don’t have to hold yourself back.” Your eyes were open again. 

“I’m not holding myself back,” he spoke the truth, the whole truth.

You were born with blood, it’s only right that you die with it, Alhaitham concludes. 

The ending clause of that contract be damned. 

“What a silly vampire.” Your bell-like laughter twinkled in his ears. 

Yes, he is. Even after all these centuries, Alhaitham realizes he’s still no better than a fool. A shameless fool. An idiotic hypocrite ready to stray away from the principles he thought he held firm. He’ll accept this verdict, he’ll continue this fool’s errand, if and only if you continue to giggle at his antics.

Outside the window came the dirge of Summer crickets, gentle crips accompanying your fleeting wheezes. Alhaitham shifts the thick comforter up your body, smoothing out the wrinkles as the soft warmth lulls you away. 

Your still fingers in between the spaces of his, your head curled within the space between his nape. 

Under the moon’s pure rays, lay two bodies atop soft sheets, curled towards each other, the fleeting warmth long dissipating. Atop silk sheets, one body envisions the two buried under cold dirt and not clean comforters with hands somehow still locked together. Deep under the garden wall.

Once the cruel sun creeps into the sky, and the night flees into hiding with her stars, Alhaitham will have to make a call. 

He’ll have to speak with the receptionist on the other end, with their bright customer service greeting, and get a legal pronouncement of death. Then soon after that, he’ll have to arrange the transportation of your cold husk. He’ll have to lower you into the ground alone.

However, the morning is still hours away, the moon is still here to lend her quiet sympathies. So tonight, just for tonight humor his little daydream.  

Fin~

©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS. 

[hellishjoel]

hi!! if you feel down to write this, could i request something along the lines of: bratty reader teases joel all day, even in front of his friends and in public, so when they both go their separate ways, he sends her a video of her fucking his fleshlight teasing her back for her attitude.

"See babydoll, this coulda been you if you weren't acting all bratty today; I could've been balls deep in you by now, but instead im balls deep in this toy"

SORRY, IT'S BEEN RATTLING AROUND IN MY BRAIN FOR DAYS NOW ♡♡

tease

1.5k // brat tamer!joel x f!reader

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3

masterlist

Warnings/Information/Heads-Up: MA 18+ (minors DNI), NO OUTBREAK, brat!tamer Joel, smut via fucking a toy, extended teasing, dirty dirty dirty man talk, pet names, etc. very little editing, a little angst?

A/N: thank you for the request! short and sweet <3

Joel is infuriated. 

Your hand is under the table, raking up and down his thigh as if the motion was innocent. As if you didn’t know what you were doing. 

It had been like this all day, you had been toying with him. Cat and fuckin’ mouse. 

It started this morning. You insisted on coming over to Joel’s place early in the morning to make him a big breakfast, something he could definitely get behind. He came out of the shower, freshly trimmed and manscaped, all for you. 

What he didn’t expect when he walked downstairs and to the kitchen was the sight of you making breakfast in just a pair of black panties and his oversized dark gray Miller Contracting shirt. The sight alone made his cock swell for a treat of morning wood. 

You served his plate, gave that innocent little face, and proceeded to bend over the table to reach for the salt and pepper. 

Joel’s hand slowly moved up the back of your thigh, cupping the globe of your ass and giving a good squeeze to you. He was about to pull you in to sit on his lap, but was surprised to see you just go and sit in your chair across from him, digging into your own breakfast. 

Okay. 

The two of you had plans to meet up with Joel and Tommy’s good friend Dan and a few others to celebrate Dan’s birthday at a local pub. 

That’s where the two of you were now, with your hand raking up and down his leg and doing a few gentle squeezes that really made a shiver go up his spine. 

He could feel himself leaking in his boxers, hard under the outline you were absentmindedly drawing on his thigh. 

“Cut it out.” Joel told you sternly under his breath, his pint glass covering his mouth as he laid it against his bottom lip, trying to stare straight ahead at one of the large televisions they had in the bar. 

“Cut what out?” 

So many damn people were around, and it always felt like they were watching. 

Your fingernail added pressure to him, Joel’s knuckles going white around the pint glass he was certain he might shatter it. 

He felt you lean in, lips to his ear as everyone absentmindedly discussed the game on the tv. 

“What’s wrong, daddy?”

The condensation on Joel’s glass and your naughty comment had his pint slipping right through his fingers, his iron grip loosening for just a second before it clattered down onto the table and spilled everywhere. 

“Shit,” Joel quickly cursed, standing up from the table and reaching for the closest napkins he could find. 

Everyone looked at him and leisurely laughed, dismissing Joel’s little slip, wiping the streams of ale that reached their side of the table before returning to their mundane conversations. 

Joel’s eyes were staring daggers into you. He was pissed. 

Not only did he have beer dripping from the hem of his shirt, you were watching with a dopey smirk on your face as if you didn’t have anything to do with it. 

Joel’s cock has been aching in his jeans for hours now, the thought of bending you over and spanking the attitude out of you was really what he could go for right now. 

But you’d like that wouldn’t you? Getting Joel worked up all day, denying him access to his favorite little toy, not being able to pound his dick into your pussy like what he’s been craving for since he woke up this morning. 

He’d be a simmering tea kettle until he could get a good cum in, he couldn’t be here any longer. 

“I’m headin’ home to change.” Joel announced to Dan who shook his hand and thanked him for coming. 

You were in tow, slinging your bag around your shoulder as you followed Joel out with a pleased little grin. 

Joel’s face was fuming red like an angry cartoon character, one hand gripping his steering wheel while the other held his clutch.

Your hand landed on his arm, head coming to lay on his shoulder as you let out a soft sigh. 

“Someone’s angry.” Your teasing made his cock twitch. 

“Don’t like bein’ toyed with.” Joel returned flatly, feeling you run your fingers delicately up and down his bicep, causing goosebumps in your wake. 

“Who’s toying with you, daddy? When have I ever not delivered?” Your hand egregiously cupped his cock through his jeans, Joel swerving on the road at the unexpected grip you had on his pulsating balls. 

He could cum in seconds if you’d just let him. 

“Bein’ a real fuckin’ brat, you know that, baby?” Joel said through gritted teeth, his eyebrows furrowed together as his heart raced, the pressure pumping down to his swollen dick. 

He harshly shoved your hand away, feeling your pout from the passenger seat. 

Joel pushed his tongue against the side of his cheek as he concentrated on driving, watching from his peripheral as you hiked your skirt up for his pleasure.

You slipped two fingers past the band of your panties, playing with your slick before circling around your clit and letting out a little moan of his name. 

Joel’s eyelashes fluttered, he dared himself not to look but he couldn’t help it. 

His lips parted at the sight, watching as your fingers moved under the veil of your panties. But he could hear it. The squelching of your wet juices combatting your anxious fingers.  

“You gonna let me take care of that for ya?” Joel asked, his final try at trying to get himself in your pants. 

He watched you throw up your eyes in debate, biting down on your lower lip before you shook your head and crossed your legs, removing your hand as you sucked your slick right off your fingers. Not even letting Joel have a taste. 

“Mmm… nope.” 

Joel cocked his head, his throbbing member nearly giving him a headache. 

You were surprised to see Joel had parked in front of your house, looking out the window then back to him. 

“What are you-”

“Go on.” 

You paused, your eyes narrowing on him before you took off your seatbelt. 

“Fine… you can come in, you know.” You looked over his face but he was just staring straight ahead. “Joel?”

“Gotta go home and change my shirt, take care of a few things. Go on, now.” 

You let out a short little huff, throwing his truck door opening and hopping down, quickly slamming it closed as the truck rocked. You eyed him as you crossed in front of it, hitting the steps to your front porch when he peeled off. 

What the hell. 

You teased Joel all the time! Maybe never for this long but you weren’t expecting him to leave you high and dry at the end of the night. You liked when he showed you who was boss, telling him that your pussy was all for him. 

You threw yourself back in bed, rolling your eyes at the whole situation. 

Your phone buzzed beside you after you got out of the shower, combing through your hair before sitting on your bed and opening the video message from Joel. 

Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped at the sight. Your eyes were glued to the screen as you watched Joel thrust his cock into his fleshlight. 

An audible whimper left you, watching it in shock. 

His deep grunts echoed through your phone speakers, mouth going dry as you watched his fleshlight get filled up. You were envious of that fucking toy. 

“Oh, fuck me,” Joel’s moans were heaven to your ears, feeling a white hot spot start in your stomach as the video continued to play. 

His wrist snapped the toy faster down his cock, watching as it was lubed up with his spit and slick from his pre-cum and probably a bit of lube. 

Another whimper left your lips, begging that the toy could have been your aching pussy. 

“Ya see.. This could have been you, baby doll. Could have.. fuck.. could have been balls deep inside of you right now if you didn’t act like a damn brat all day. This could've been you.” 

His words made your bottom lip quiver, continuing to watch as his girthy length filled that toy to the brim. 

“God damn.. M’ fuckin close.”

His words made you shutter. You wanted to turn the video off. Hell, you wanted to chuck your phone out the window. But here you were, your eyes glued to it. You could see his dark happy trail, his salt and pepper hair that led to his fat fucking cock. 

You should have taken it at breakfast, you should have given it to him at the fucking bar! You’d do anything right now for him to fill you up like he was for his fleshlight. 

His phone got a little shaky as he came, Joel’s beautiful but erratic moans filling your ears as he flushed himself deep into his toy, filling it with his white hot cum. 

You could hear his breathing slow, watching as he slowly filmed himself taking the toy off his cock. He was covered in his own spill, and all you wanted to do was lick it clean off of him. 

“Goodnight baby girl, thanks for the good cum. Needed it all day.”

-----

@jrrmint @gracieispunk @macfrog @strang3lov3 @notjustjavierpena @bastardmandennis @joelslegalwhre @brittmb115 @casa-boiardi @nostalxgic @cool-iguana @chim-cham-blog

how to be added to the taglist

[jaim-inhothekid]

𐀔 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞

[ W.C ! ] : 1.7k

[ Summary ! ] : Reader is a fairy, Luffy is a human – could i make it any more obvious?. As a fairy, you have the power to make flowers grow! Luffy is eager to see it firsthand | SFW ; GN!Reader ; Fairy reader

⌗ ✎ Author's Note : This was originally a trade piece for the lovely @nina-ya!!

The irregular flooring of a ship's deck couldn't be farther from what would be considered comfortable. Even with the soft sheets layered upon thick duvets in a clumsy, but honest attempt at imitating a similar structure of a mattress, you could still feel the bumpy unevenness of the teak planks under your back, mostly due to the gaps in between the floorboards. Ranging in sizes, caused by the expansion and contraction of wood during different seasons – the floor blocks also seemed to resemble a bow-like shape in some places, in others it resembled more of a small mountain, like there was something underneath making the center higher than the edges. In others, the flooring felt soft under your feet and had a funny smell, with dark stains that seemed permanently engraved into each plank.

Little ol’ Merry has definitely seen its better days, if the obvious signs of age were anything to go by – worn out, tired, but still standing tall despite lacking the shiny glory of a brand new vessel. You could pinpoint exactly where it had been damaged, and then repaired with someone's best efforts, like old scars that were once covered by patterned band-aids and kissed better by a loving parent, it was cherished and cared for. And you had a feeling that, even if it lacked the consciousness for it, Merry knew how dear it was for those who were on board of it. Humans were such funny creatures, beyond the very real and ever present capacity of immeasurable destruction, they were so full of love towards something that couldn't even return it, at least not in a way it could be seen or felt or heard. Something about when an action is truly genuine, when it comes straight from the heart, free of anything but raw emotion, you don't expect a return – you simply do it, because it feels right, because you want to.

Humans were such funny creatures. Dangerous, deceiving, worthy of suspicion – yet compassionate, caring, loving, and kind. They are a family, I've found a family.

This is nice, you thought. Under a sky much too extensive to fully fit in your field of vision, glistening brightly with stars whose names were buried too far in your mind to reach. Your stomach is pleasantly full with the food Sanji gave his best to prepare – “He says that all the damn time, about every meal” Zoro pointed after hearing the giddy exclamation from the blonde, which earned him a kick and a shouted insult, that quickly turned into a match of hurled expletives. You only gawked and smiled at the scene, and your smile widened further when later on, you caught a glimpse of the duo washing the dishes together, funny creatures. Nami slept soundly to her left, ginger hair sprawled around her head and over the white pillow, ember in the snow. The girl snored – but that's okay, you didn't mind, and neither did Usopp, who didn't stir once despite sleeping back to back with the redhead, seemingly accustomed to the noise. Feels like home.

And there's always something special that truly makes a place into a home – family pictures littering the walls, a favorite chair to plop in after a long day, that one cup in the kitchen that you never outwardly proclaimed it's yours but everyone knows that it's yours. Little details of life, of belonging, are what makes a home.

On the Merry, it's Luffy.

Lively Luffy who smiles wide and carelessly, baring all of his teeth, the corners of his lips rounding his cheeks until it squints his eyes, like he never had a reason to frown, like the only feeling he ever knew was joy. Welcoming Luffy who hugs as wide and carelessly as he smiles, arms that inhumanly stretch and loop around waists like the ropes securing the ships to the docks, that traps you in place and grounds you to reality, that make you feel like you belong no matter how far from home you may be.

You haven't been keeping track of how long you've been talking, only that you didn't feel like stopping any time soon. The others are fast asleep and the sky has only gotten darker, yet you feel like you can keep going until it fades back to the soft pastels of sunrise, maybe it's because Luffy just naturally makes people feel energized, maybe it's because she has never met someone who had so many things to ask about you. About your world, your culture, if the fairytales were accurate in their descriptions, if pixie dust was an actual thing – everything that came to mind, he asked, his curiosity had no filter, funny creature.

“Of course I do!” You couldn't keep from laughing at the absurdity of the question Luffy had just made, covering your mouth with your palms to stifle the noise and not disturb the sleeping figures around you “Everyone does, why would you ask something like that?”

“I'm curious!” Luffy shrugged, as if pointing out the obvious, crossing his arms behind his head to cushion it as he looked up at the sky “And not everyone! ‘cause sometimes Usopp gets conisitipated and Sanji has to make him a whole gallon of green tea so he can p–'' Luffy grew gradually quieter as he looked back at you, who had your face scrunched up in an expression akin to disgust “What?”

“I don't really wanna know about that.”

Luffy pouted as he looked back up towards the night sky, eyebrows furrowed softly furrowed in thought as his gaze roamed through the stars, searching for words. When he does, Luffy's eyes widen along with his smile. He turns to lay on his side and rapidly taps the floor below him before speaking “You haven't shown me your power yet!”

“Haven't I? Ah– Yeah! I haven't!” Your own eyes widened as well, pointed ears quirking up. You smiled back at Luffy – just as wide, just as excited. Something unexplainable about how every action of his managed to be so contagious “There's actually something special i want to show you too, it must've slipped my mind–”

You weren't given a chance to finish your sentence, as a firm pair of arms stretched and wrapped around your waist in two tight loops, lacking all resemblance of finesse by yanking you up from your makeshift mattress and onto your feet – when did he get up?. Luffy just kept smiling, with the cheekiness of a man who probably pulled stunts like that on a daily basis, unashamed and unapologetic, like the way he did everything else.

“What's the hold up for? Lemme see!”

—————–

Being mindful of the creaky flooring beneath your feet, you guided Luffy through the hallways leading into the more intimate parts of the ship, said Luffy who did not share the same mindfulness, slippers smacking against the wood as he walked. He kept asking where they were going, what you wanted to show him, and most importantly, could he eat it? You brushed off all of his questions, insisting that he had to see it for himself.

At the end of the hallway, you gently pushed open the last door to your left, urging Luffy inside and then shutting it behind you. Stumbling clumsily into the pitch black room, with the only source of light being the faint glow of your wings, Luffy only grew more and more impatient.

“(Name),” He whined, huffing, “What are you–”

Completely crashing his train of thought, Luffy could only stare with almost childlike amazement at the new form of life sprouting from your cupped palms. Flowing with the grace of a skilled dancer, in a choreography that could not be replicated nor taught, small vines curled and fell in gentle swoops from your hands, adorned with leaves that opened and closed in the same way a butterfly bats its wings. A big, yet delicate flower slowly bloomed in between the vines and leaves, layers upon layers of gradient petals, colored from a deep indigo to a soft lilac, opened to reveal a glowing center – that lightened up the room with a brilliant hue that Luffy has only ever seen in the skies of a distant island in the far north.

“I've read about it a while ago, the flower is called lamperí kardiá, it translates to glowing heart…” You went on about the plant, where did it grow, when it was discovered, something about older generations using its crushed petals as ointment for wounds – all of which flew straight over Luffy's head, rendered speechless for once.

You looked beautiful with your face lit up by the glowing plant, with youe beautiful eyes and your beautiful hair and your beautiful lips. Everything about her was beautiful – breathtakingly beautiful, indescribably beautiful. Under the ethereal lights, Luffy was reminded of how the person in front of him wasn't human, a mythical creature whose presence alone was something out of a tale, something sacred that maybe should make him feel bad for touching so carelessly like he was used to doing with others, you looked intangible, unreal – and yet, on the moment that you looked up from the flower and back at him, you were his reality.

“You're so pretty,” Luffy mused, voice a little airy, eyes a little dazed “I wanna kiss you, can i kiss you?”

You froze, and time seemed to freeze along. You blinked once, then twice – and Luffy was still staring at you with that mesmerized look in his eyes, your cheeks felt hot, and a giggle involuntarily tumbled off your lips as they parted open, “Yes”

Your giggle ripped one out of Luffy as well, and you both just stood there laughing at nothing in particular for a second or two, before Luffy took a step closer and cupped both of your cheeks in his hands – warm hands, always warm, comforting hands.

Your lips touched together, and you dropped the plant on the floor to bring your palms up to cup the ones holding your cheeks. Lips only slightly parted, mouthing at each other in slow movements – you shyly licked your way into Luffy's mouth, and your faces changed angles as the kiss deepened and Luffy swiped his tongue over yours as well, a soft line of spit dribbling from the corner of his lip.

Your hands squeezed his wrists, He pressed your chests together. It felt weird – but good, funny.

Luffy was such a funny creature.

[ghostlywhiskey]

lawyer!price when the two of you finally start seeing each other. you never knew the man to be stressed or overwhelmed, if anything, you admired how he always seemed to handle everything. except, you’d never admit that out loud, or at least prior to dating him.

but it’s when he asks you to spend the night that you see behind the wall he’s built up. the two of you had been watching tv on the couch when you had fallen asleep, or at least thats what you remember. when your eyes blink a few times as consciousness comes back to you, the dark bedroom cold and empty as you sit up. price is nowhere within reach nor is he in your sight, the alarm clock on the night stand the only soft glow of light.

1:43 AM

slipping out of the bed, you quietly exit the bedroom. looking both ways down the hallway of the apartment, you make note of the lack of sound coming from the general living space. what does grab your attention is the exaggerated typing noises you’ve learned to zone out while at work. heading towards the sound, you stand in front of his office door; fingers knock softly against the wood as you wait for a response to allow you to enter, but when it doesn’t come you push open the slightly cracked door.

price is sat at his desk, eyes glued onto the computer screen in front of him while papers scatter the desk, some even making their way onto the floor.

“john?” your certain he might not even register the sound of your voice. and you’re certain he might not even stop to look at you if he does. but, fingers come to a halt on the keyboard and eyes divert their attention to you. he’s paying attention. he’s giving you his attention.

“what are you doing up?” he asks, he doesn’t sound mad or annoyed, is it concern?

there was still getting used to john price as your boyfriend, not the attorney who barked requests at you. it was like relearning how he operated at work. but now, you actually cared about the tone in his voice and his actions.

“i didn’t realize i feel asleep,” you trail off, taking a few seconds to stare blankly at him before processing your next move. walking over cautiously towards him, you stand next to his chair as you catch a glimpse of the screen. multiple tabs and programs, medical records and contracts opened across the two monitors. his desk scattered with more contracts and deposition transcripts. “but, i think i should be asking you the same question.”

a hand reaches up behind you, grabbing for your waist as he tugs you towards him. your body lets him guide you onto his lap, one arm securing around his neck as your other hand rests on his chest.

“nothing productive happens after ten,” you murmur, fingers toying with the top button of his dress shirt.

fingers graze past your jaw as his palm cups your cheek.

“tell that to the five pages i’ve written for the motion.”

“the motion isn’t due until the end of next week.”

“yeah, but then i have conferences and other motions to worry about,” he mutters. “and then i have oppositions due. oh, and then there’s the two depositions next week.”

and if there was one thing you knew about him, as your boyfriend or not, he was stubborn. your arm around his neck reaches to scratch the back of his head soothingly. you could hear him working himself up about everything he had to do.

“john,” you spoke his name for the second time that night. and before another word could get out, he tugged your face closer to his as his eyes locked on yours. “it’s almost 2am. come to bed.”

you weren’t asking him, even if your voice was still laced with the drowsiness from your slumber, the demanding tone was still present.

“giving me orders now?” he teases, closing the gap between your lips. your hand that previously toyed with his buttons now on his neck while the other held the back of his head. it was a gentle kiss, but the slow movements of his tongue moving against yours building tension in your chest. the lingering taste of a cigar you assumed he smoked recently on the balcony while you were asleep is prominent, but it’s mixed with the taste of toothpaste. he must’ve brushed his teeth after.

“what’s that taste?” your nose scrunches as you pull back from price, the man stood in front of you with his fingers tangled in your hair angles your head to look up at him.

“what?” his voice monotone, confused by your question.

“it tastes like,” your tongue swirls in your mouth and you swallow spit, the taste of tobacco strong. “a cigar?” brows furrowing together trying to determine if you were right.

“mhm,” he hums, tugging you back towards him gently as his lips brush over yours. “i was stressed,” teeth tug at your bottom lip before sucking on it gently and releasing it. “i had one earlier.” now, lips kissing you again before you can comment on him smoking.

hands grasp at his suit jacket, pushing him back gently to break the kiss. “it tastes terrible.”

“come on,” he mumbles, leaning down so his face is to your neck, teeth grazing the skin before he sucks on the skin. your cheeks warm at the realization of his action and quickly pull away from him and head for his closed office door.

“john price!” you hiss quietly, glaring at him. “i’m not leaving your office with a hickey or the taste of cigars in my mouth.” hand reaching for the door handle, you make your way out. he huffs in defeat, body heading to his chair as he sits back down.

despite being close already, your hand at the back of his head pulls him closer to deepen the kiss; body pressed against his as you straddle his lap. he remembered you hated the taste of the cigars, it was such a stupid thing but it made your chest tighten.

chuckling against your lips, his hands reach to securely grab at your ass to support you in his arms. his body rises up from his chair as he sits you down on the edge of the desk, guiding you to lay down. lips never breaking from yours, he reaches for your pants as fingers toy with the string to untie it.

only does he stop when he’s about to tug the pants off, hands pulling his face away from yours.

“john-“ you gasp for air, breathing quickened as you try to catch your breath.

“don’t tell me i need to sleep.” he mumbles, hands still pulling the pants off as you are left on the desk in your panties and shirt. hands grab at your body again to pick you up.

“we’re both not going in tomorrow.” he proceeds to carry you to his bedroom and you can’t help but smile, face nuzzling his neck as you place light kisses.

[cambion-companion]

Inferna Victoria

Dining with the devil and having to answer for your breaking and entering...and sleeping with his personal incubus.

This was fun to write, most likely will follow it up with a part 2! But I needed to get this out of my system.

PLUS their banter is SO fun to write. I just love the way Raphael speaks.

Raphael x Reader | Victory dinner that was promised but we never got | OH he KNOWS about the Haarlep incident | light smut towards the end

“What an unexpected pleasure.”

You turned, the heels of your shoes sliding easily on the dark marble.  Your nose almost brushed against his, the scent of musk and cherries causing your head to spin for a moment before you could regather your senses.  From the tone of his greeting, there was nothing “unexpected” about your visit.

You raised a coy brow. “Do most devils not have a sense of personal space?”

Raphael didn’t return your smirk. His usually playful expression had become sharp almost tense. Warm whiskey eyes drank in your features, your face turned up as he towered over you, your chests almost touching.

When next he spoke, his lilting cadence had deepened into something akin to primal. A dark timbre sweetened by a fondness the cambion only seemed to harbor for you.

“You have served your purpose to the letter of our contract.  Why are you here?”

So enraptured were you by his hypnotic gaze you didn’t initially feel his hands skimming up the outside of your arms, tracing the curve of your body as they moved down to your hips.

Playful words spilled unbidden from your eager mouth. “You promised me a dinner.”  Your breath caught in your throat, taken aback by his soft touch before his fingers sharpened their grip on your soft flesh. “I came quite ready to partake.”

“So I gathered.”  Your ill-disguised flirtations clearly pleased Raphael.  With one hand remaining low at your waist, he guided you into the dining hall.  His heavy gaze continued to burn into you, try as you might to act oblivious.  You could practically feel the trails his eyes were scorching into every facet of your visage. “Always such an eager little thing. An excellent client and an even better co-conspirator.”

You snorted a laugh, watching him as he sank down languidly against a rather gaudy mahogany chair and stretched his long limbs, placing one booted foot atop the table. “You are pleased with my success, I take it?”

“I cannot sing your praises enough.”  Now Raphael smiled, easing the unexplained tension between you two as he picked idly at his nails. “The souls I tend to in my dungeon especially are regaled by the tale of your saving a world they can never return to.”

“Prolonging their suffering?”  You rolled your eyes, expecting nothing less, never forgetting his true nature. “How appropriate.”

“Enhancing.”  Raphael corrected, his foot shifting off the table as he rose to his feet and met your gaze squarely. “You are more familiar with me than most who enter my home, little hero.” The endearment rang with irony. “I am glad you came. However uninvited. Which…”  He tapped long fingers against polished wood, his smile gaining an edge. “Brings up a breach of contract I’ve wished to address after you won me the crown.” 

You felt a pit open in your stomach, knowing very well what Raphael was referring to. You opened your mouth to quickly defend yourself, but he interrupted, gesturing to the large table. “Sit.”

As you obeyed, sitting upon a plush seat and tensing as Raphael circled behind.  His large hands gripped the back of your chair, and you felt the stirrings of your hair beneath his breath. “If you wished me to entertain you in my Boudoir, you had but to ask nicely.”

“I…”  You had no excuse. “I apologize.”

“A sweet sentiment, but I do not accept it.”  Raphael’s presence shifted and he walked slowly to the grant mahogany seat opposite yours, taking a moment to look down upon you before he sat.

“Enlighten me as to the innerworkings of your mind.”  Raphael continued speaking slowly, his elegant brow arching imperiously. “What gives a small speck of a mortal the right to enter the home of a devil uninvited?”  He leaned forward, observing your silence with an air of condemnation. “Speak, ere I exact penance and take your leaden tongue for insolence.”

Your heart stuttered, this was not how you expected your victory dinner to go. “Gale was quite insistent we find a way into your home to, uh, destroy our contract.”

“Here I thought wizards had a modicum of intelligence.”  Raphael didn’t look pleased, nor did he appear as livid as you expected. He leaned back and gestured for you to continue.

“Upon entry, your house was a mess by the way, I had second thoughts.  Betraying your trust would pitch me into inevitable conflict with you…and I don’t want that.”

“Do go on.”  Raphael wore a smirk, halfway between mocking and amused. “You are at the cusp of this story’s climax.”

You felt the heat of the room intensify as your face flushed. “Yes, well…upon gaining entry to your room, your Boudoir, I met someone who gave me very little choice to walk away freely without giving something of myself first.”

“Thus, like a good mouse you wriggled and squeaked atop my bed before turning tail and running back to your little hole.” Raphael finished and nodded, seeming satisfied.

“I didn’t take anything…or disturb anything.”  You defended yourself.

“You took pleasure from my incubus.”  Like the changing tides, Raphael’s mood darkened yet again. He raised a finger and tilted his head. “Yet, you left something behind that balances the scales somewhat.”

“I’m not sure it balances the scales. They still seem quite tipped against my favor.”  You said, a little testily.

Raphael smiled shrewdly in response, his gaze drifting over your form. “I returned to my home to find Haarlep in your form, lounging naked in my pool.”

“Ah.”

“Indeed.”

You wracked your brains, trying to remember if you’d felt anything like the sensual tingle Haarlep had hinted at when he made love in your form. You hadn’t felt it yet…which meant Raphael hadn’t taken advantage of Haarlep’s conquest.  Yet.

“I am ever the gentleman.”  Raphael’s honeyed voice dripped irony, seeming to read your thoughts. “And in that vein, I indeed promised you a dinner to celebrate our victory.”

You rallied quickly, tucking into the food with the eagerness of one who is famished. “Speaking of veins, wait until you hear what happened with Astarion.”

Raphael listened, intent and focused as he always was whenever you spoke with him. The topic of your exchange with Haarlep seemed momentarily shelved, though you knew there was no chance of it being forgotten.

Raphael chortled in his familiar way, close-mouthed and smug, as you finished regaling him with the latest events. “What a quaint image. You revel at last in the success of your intrepid adventures, some more fruitful than others.”

“I’m satisfied.” You took another small bite of the roasted meat and sipped the wine.

Raphael peered at you, evidently not interested in eating. “Truly?  How unlike you.”

“You presume to know me?”  

“Better than most.”  Raphael answered, that damnable smile back on his face. “To illustrate this fact…Haarlep, join us.”

Slinking out from the shadows of a marble column walked Haarlep, you felt a jolt of dread at seeing the incubus wearing your naked form brazenly. Haarlep caught your eye, smiled widely, and did a little twirl to show off all your assets.

You sank down into your chair, mortified.

“Come.”  Raphael beckoned for Haarlep to straddle his lap and the incubus hopped merrily aboard.

“I can feel our little hero’s lust from here.”  Haarlep purred, taking Raphael’s ear between their teeth as they looked at you through your own eyes. “Delicious, and oh so familiar.”  Haarlep maintained teasing eye contact with you as their hands drifted down, giving you a torturous show.

You saw Raphael’s movements, saw Haarlep throw their head back in exaggerated pleasure, Raphael’s teeth scraping across the exposed throat that should be yours.

“I was in the middle of quite serious negotiations, pet, when you decided to take advantage of my body.”  Raphael gripped the soft flesh of Haarlep’s bottom, and you felt the corresponding touch echo ghostlike across your own skin. “I experienced everything.”

A rush of heated arousal awakened in the pit of your stomach; you squeezed your thighs together. Raphael’s eyes were drawn to the movement. He smiled. “Yes, I was quite aware, though I could only guess as to who soiled my bed.  It was irksome, a distraction from my business.”

Raphael slowly turned more of his attention to Haarlep and left you feeling frustrated and cold.  You felt only a hint, not nearly enough to gain release, and you didn’t dare touch yourself.

Haarlep cooed and giggled in your voice, your ears burned to hear such lewd sounds.

Only when Haarlep began riding Raphael in earnest did your resolve finally break. “Raphael, please.”

Large hands gripped Haarlep’s hips and stilled their movement. “Please what, pet?”

Your pride stilled your tongue.  Raphael chuckled and groaned as Haarlep resumed their bouncing movements. “Such a lovely, supple thing you are.”

“Surely, you don’t want simply a cheap imitation of me.”  You were becoming desperate, and keenly aware he could read right through you.

Haarlep let loose with a particularly loud moan and then placed their fingers to their lips, grinning wickedly at you.

Raphael’s hips began moving in rhythm, his breathing audible. “I could turn the same petulant quip…” He took a deep breath. “…back to you, my dear.”

Damn him.

“I want you.  That’s why I came to your house. I want you, the real you.”

Raphael stilled Haarlep, using his hands to quell their eager movements.  The incubus looked momentarily taken aback, giving Raphael a pout you hoped to never see again upon your face.

Raphael paid them no mind, his hooded gaze finally finding yours. He sat in silence for a long moment then rose to his feet, easily displacing the incubus.

Raphael extended a hand.

“Come to me then.”

[aaafurniture]

Contract wood Chairs

Contract wood Chairs

323/ Galvanized Metal Frame Chair

$102.00

[macfrog]

Clawing at my cage waiting for the next installment of sweet child.

Any crumbs to share perhaps?

If not, totally OK! Can't wait to eat it up as soon as you're finished 💕💕

Love you and you're amazing!!!

hiiiii my sweet danie how are you ilysm !!!!!

i regretfully do not have much as of yet in the way of snippets (especially spoiler-free ones 👀), so for now, please enjoy the very beginnings of what is to come ....

You grip onto the edge of the sink, staring out at the midnight-blue backyard. Fingers slipping on the smooth porcelain, feeling a weight between your hips as your uterus begins to wind again. Two rings and the tone cuts, his voice spilling a warm comfort down your spine instantly. There’s no hello, no double checking that you haven’t accidentally dialed him in your sleep. Only that trademark drawl, that flat voice you’d swear sounded bored if it weren’t for the haste with which he asks, “You okay?” the second he answers. Sweat boiling on the nape of your neck, you choke out a, “Yeah,” wincing as another contraction crests. “I just called at one in the morning to – to say hi.” He sighs, the crackle of his breath into the receiver accompanied by the tinkle of wind chimes, the creak of wood as he must settle into a chair on Vanessa’s parents’ porch. “Alright, wiseass. What is it?” “I’m in labor.” “That's funny, baby. Good one.”

[littlepuddingsworld]

Okay, this is going to sound insane, but please hear me out.

In the 19th century, there were doctors who specialised in curing "female hysteria", which was often just misdiagnosed sexual frustration (Whenever women were too out of control for men to handle, it was diagnosed as hysteria. So it was basically anything, sexual frustration included...). The cure was fingering...yeah. It was relatively normalised to, as a doctor, finger someone's wife...quite a way to make a living. There was basically a handbook written in Latin about how you do it (oil up your hand, insert here, there will be muscle contraction, the lady in question will breathe heavily before ultimately having a hysteria paroxysm (this is a former medical term for orgasms btw)). Obviously, there were mixed opinions about giving another man's wife an orgasm, however, the Catholic doctors concluded that it cannot have been sexual, since there was no penetration. "It's our duty as doctors to cure these poor women of their hysteria, Sir 🫡"

FUN FACT: Since some doctors would experience wrist pain from the...hard manual labour, they invented a device that does it for them: The vibrator. When the vibrator was first used in pornography, the doctors said NOPE and left their profession behind. In 2011, there was a period romcom made about this called Hysteria. It's not even that bad, unironically. Oh and by the way, the name hysteria is derived from the Greek word hystera, meaning uterus, hence why only women were diagnosed with hysteria.

Anyway, getting to my point:

Imagine a yandere thinking that you're being incredibly hysterical, emotional, out of control and then proceeding to sit you down and curing you of your hysteria the old-fashioned way...

They either do it knowingly, or are just too oblivious to even realise that what they are doing is...not quite the correct solution for the problems they caused you in the first place...

Just wanted to share this with someone...take it as you will...

,,, to be honest, I knew about the hysteria, but I didn't know about the fact that a vibrator was created that way,,,, sexy big brain<3333 i love your words so much, mercury kissed you at birth,,,, very brainy, very many cerebral convolutions, I love it,,, come here to kith kith pretty pie—

𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

your husband is so sweet, so adorable — especially when he's on his knees in front of you, purring something about how he should help you, as if it's not his personal fault that you feel like this.

... ♡ unhealthy relationship, misconception of the century / time, hierarchical society, mild sexism? (more classism?), mild maledom elements, mention of religion, forced marriage implied, male pregnancy mentioned because no pregnant reader, unethical treatment methods?; doctor!noble!husband x darling!reader

dubious consent (dubcon) -> consensual sex, crying, mild sadism/masochism, mention of degradation (g.), hair pulling (g.), oral sex (r.), mild fingering (r.), praise (r.)

If THEODORE had been told that he was "mistreating his darling spouse", he would have

agreed.

It was logical: if he treated you well, then would you enter into a frenzy of emotions, scream and look as if you were about to faint before falling at a table made of pleasantly smelling wood, — Theodore knew that you love this variety; almost all tables, chairs and other wooden utensils was of this sort, — completely exhausted, unable even to drive away your narrow-minded husband, only waving a fragile palm in his direction, as if desperate, while he took your fan, straight from the hands of the best chinese craftsmen, and gently fanned you, letting you hang head? Of course not.

You, his breathtaking spouse, were so touching and gentle, full of spring charm and a few drops of exquisite, expensive coquetry, like the first flowers in spring — delicate, almost transparent, not at all like the luxury of scarlet roses that gardeners grow every season, or the exuberant scent of lilac and juniper, especially in July. Not at all. Your charm was subtle, unique, corresponding to the rumbling of the first rivers or the first drop falling from the roofs after the melting of the snow. You have never been a socialite — never; parents were rich enough to support you and your siblings, but not rich enough to live in idleness and not worry about money.

You were introduced at the first ball and attended others from time to time, but most of the time you couldn't afford to walk around with "old dresses", not wanting to be considered poor or shame family by not being able to buy new clothes. Theodore understood perfectly well — being from a not-so-rich family, somehow coping with this whole world, you simply could not afford to live bohemian, expensive and shameless out of fear that money was too little, as if you did not even think that you could just marry someone rich and sponsor with their help your family. Theodore didn't blame, having heard about you for the first time from the mouths of other dandies who follow every new "coquette fan", more than an eloquent sign of finding a partner, though; "too conscientious and didn't understand how this world works" or just a prude,

but now, he understands that you just knew your worth and waited for someone like

him.

After all, in a world where divorce can only happen after death, and infidelity is punished by an enraged spouse with a knife, how could you easily marry someone? You were so alluring, like ripe peaches filled with juice — naturally, not everyone can and should touch your delicate, perfumed hands and caress skin so soft that no overseas silk can compare.

Theodore was sure that there were words about you: "If the cost of their kiss was hell, // then I will kiss their lips, // so that in hell I can brag to the devils // that I was in heaven without even entering it." Because you were paradise, it didn't matter if you smiled, cried or screamed — or were "not a couple who deserved," but only because you could have become the monarch's spouse right away, but he found you earlier.

He had no doubt that you were special — definitely to him. Therefore, he did not think long before he came to your parents to take you to his estate, in the sweetly itchy haste of first and only love, kissing your hands and touching the slightly trembling fan with thin fingers while you looked down in frightened amazement, while your parents confusedly exchanged glances, not understanding why he came to "court you". Theodore did not ask if you had someone — after all, if you had, you would rather slit your throat than let another touch your thin fingers, because he would have done exactly the same in your place if he were still a dependent young man (now, of course, he was not — having studied at a very prestigious university, where his parents also studied, he was more than an enviable independent bachelor and knew it). And if earlier he was afraid that, what if!, was not "normal", then when saw you, he knew that he had been waiting for you all this time — and you were undoubtedly waiting for him too.

If, in order to be with you, he had to refuse the sky, the sun and the moon, he would do it without hesitation. This is love — Theodore had no doubt that you yourself understand this.

Your parents, however, soon dispelled his prejudices. You didn't just "didn't understand it" — you weren't like that, but Theodore, hesitating only for a few seconds, realized that you just weren't like everyone else. While others were blinded by love, like him, you couldn't be like that — you just didn't understand it, didn't feel like that, and your parents were only afraid that your "defect" in the marriage market would make you lonely for the rest of days.

Theodore, however, did not think so: you were the same age as him, he was childless, unmarried, rich and educated, had an estate with intelligent and trained servants, good sources of income, a lot of free time, did not have the habit of drinking a lot of alcohol or tobacco, — and the fact that you were allegedly "not sensual enough" was, of course, stupidity. He wasn't going to use the fact that you can't pick up a knife to kill an unfaithful spouse! And I wasn't going to cheat! He won't do any harm! Yes, you may be a little... very very little defective-ish, but isn't love blind? He will accept you at any cost, even with such a... 'setback'.

... Of course, it is wrong and even abnormal that you cannot kill someone who is cheating on you, and are not ready to die just to be with someone you love, and that it is wild for you to give up everything for your beloved... But Theodore understands that you are already too perfect, and it's okay to have flaws. He's not thirteen anymore.

As long as this is not passed on to children, everything will be fine, please, don't worry, ma joie, — he gently whispers to you, touching gloved fingers, stroking fingers gently, looking into your very happy face ? — I'll accept you for who you are, even with this. With everything. Because you and I, being whole by ourselves, become more than just "ourselves" together.

And it was true, don't get him wrong! His pedigree was good, he was, uh, "thoroughbred," and his family tree was beautiful, worthy of your hand. Theodore was not self-confident, but he was confident, buying everything you want, not walking through salons and entertainment houses and not being in any dubious circles, his entourage was only intelligent people who had an education and could both write and read, and not in two languages, and there was no one in his circle someone of the same gender, and he wasn't squeamish or suspicious. After all, what else can you worry about? But you were worried. Over time, it's even a little noisy.

You shouted, sometimes threw yourself, behaved strangely, as if he was not a refined learned man who was your shadow and wrote poetry to you, not forcing you to do anything even after your approved marriage, but a brute or an invader. Did he take you away without permission? Perhaps using his status in society to a little and influence your parents with children who have not yet appeared to the beau monde, and used a little influence to convince these people that he will help your siblings in the future to find a better match than they can now count on — but then why does he need it: status, influence, reputation, — if he can't even convince his love to stay with him? Otherwise, you can't blame—

... Oh wait.

You can.

Theodore realizes with annoyance, sitting hs office with a book in hands, writing notes in diary, and adjusts his glasses: he had completely forgotten — you're "not like that." You're different. Your parents told him. You understand love differently, you look at your partner differently, you cannot understand the concept of love itself... Theodore used to think that they just raised you wrong, but now he understands what they meant: that the feelings that ordinary people spend on a partner, you leave inside, letting them accumulate, and when you realize that you can no longer, you emotionally explode and behave as if something is wrong with him or you — it's obvious! You just can't do it any other way! Of course, why else would you be unhappy with your situation? After all, it's natural that your family hardly communicates with you or that you can't spend a lot of time outside the house — everyone lives like that, except the unmarried! You just don't understand it!

Because you are so emotional, so sensitive, so responsive, that, naturally, you need special care and care, and not a sidelong glance from your husband, who behaved so coldly, only supporting, but not helping you in any way! After all, he studied at the best university, was one of the best students, even had an internship and, of course, corresponded with his comrades, learning new ways to deal with diseases and disorders. After all, what kind of "good husband" is he if he can't even help his gentle, easily excitable spouse cope with their, he's not afraid of that word, illness?

You just don't understand...

“... Darling, we need to make one thing.”

You are gentle, soft, not submissive — both in clothes and under them, and although you may consider him a little pathetic when he whispers it to you, burying cold nose in your thigh like a lost dog, but after shouting and throwing things, you are no longer so full of destructive energy. Holding him tightly by the hair, you look down with pursed lips, but do not answer anything — and in expensive clothes, with jewelry, sleek and clearly not deprived of the love and affection of a bohemian husband, you look like a deity that descended from heaven.

Theodore knows that he must decontaminate for sure, but what can a spouse hide from a spouse, right? After all, you are more than a "single whole", especially when he is sitting on his lap, no problem as long as you are sitting on a chair made of your favorite wood, soft and comfortable enough, allowing him to carefully get rid of excess clothes without disgrace, looking at how thin lips touch your skin in a respectfully pious way.

Even your heavy breathing from the outburst of emotions sounds like music that should be played in the church if they want the heavenly ambassadors to descend.

Is he too "sugary"?

No, he's just a realist.

“Darling, please...”

You don't push away even when fingers gently touch your thighs like feathers, just frowning a little harder. But not by pushing it away. You are smart, you always have been, and, of course, you yourself understand that you are sick, and only he, as your husband and doctor, can help you. It's natural. Why do you need another men- or women- another doctor? How dare someone else touch you? Only you can touch him and only he can touch you. He's yours — a husband, a doctor, anyone. As soon as you become healthier, he will definitely be your lover — and maybe one day you will take a child or will he carry it. After all, how dare he sleep with you and use you, so gentle and airy, like a messenger from heaven, while you are so deeply ill, not even really knowing what love is and how to react to it?

“Darling... It's just a little help. Just say the word and we'll stop anytime. I don't want to harm my spouse, you know... Besides, you can always stop me by force.”

You yourself spread your warm, soft, almost plush thighs while he meekly looks up from the bottom, trying to unobtrusively encourage you to let him just look a little. Theodore was not an expert on issues related to sex life or the influence of genitals on human behavior, — although, undoubtedly!, it was important, but he preferred less dirty things, — but now, kneeling in front of you on a soft carpet, stroking your skin, it did not seem something vile or dirty, animal, but for some reason pleasant and... airy-natural; the very sight made him want not to wince and turn away, but not to look away, even when you pull his hair harder, frowning, clearly not too willing to continue this, but it's better than if he drags you to someone else.

You knew yourself that your husband sometimes got too involved with the human body in a not too, uh, "harmless" sense, but it was never dangerous or illegal, unless against the law of god, so you let him correspond with 'friends' and 'colleagues', studying new diseases and learning more about experience and practice. But if you knew that one day you would be the subject of research, you would definitely throw his ink and letters into the fireplace — along with other things.

“Mi único... I want to help... Do you know what hysteria is? This is when a darling behaves very much... emotionally because of the internal tension. And so we have recently come up with a... new way to deal with similar diseases. It can help our marriage... Te quaeso?”

Theodore is not an idiot; rather, he feels like a trainer or a tamer, gently pushing and touching, without making any sudden movements while you look at him, gradually relaxing the tense body, letting his fingers, slightly slippery from oil and disinfectants, touch the delicate skin of the inner thigh, massaging and stroking, not hurrying. He doesn't have much experience — practically none, you never shared a bed even after the "wedding night", — but there is enough theory and ideas how to use it, especially when thin, slightly cool fingers slowly touch the skin under stomach, stroke as lightly as possible along a sensitive line, kissing with warmed lips the skin. If he could, he'd love to just open his mouth and eat you, or at least nibble — but he's not the type who eats his darling and then walks around saddened widowers and widows without the opportunity to remarry, he's a more sophisticated type and definitely not that creepy, even if the way you are you pull his hair as fingers gently circle around, rubbing and stroking, using precum for better contact, makes his eyes water and his mouth open slightly, breathing, feeling too ambiguous even for a "husband", let alone the role of the "doctor" in which he was.

“Please... d-darling...” He chirps something slightly hoarsely, stroking, caressing, breathing every other time, as if you are holding not by the hair, but by the throat; when his fingers tremble slightly, you hiss, making him blush slightly shamefacedly, as if from your swearing, — but he tries not to break the rhythm, ignoring, as befits a refined well-mannered husband. Do well-mannered husbands use their fingers on their spouses? Theodore doesn't have that much experience to respond, especially when you flinch slightly, curling your toes, — and he wants to bite just to remove this strange shameful, almost perverted feeling of a mixture of lust and guilt inside, clearly not too approved by religion, but when you start breathing shallowly and harder, closing your eyes, Theodore moves his fingers faster, watching your face.

Is that right? You don't hold him so tightly, but don't take your hand away, and his fingers are so slippery and wet that he's almost ashamed, as if it's all his juices, and he definitely should at least look away, but this is scientific curiosity, just curiosity, even when he changes his position, sinking lower shamelessly, feeling himself for a moment, it really was some kind of fallen man from entertainment houses, with an implicit gurgling feeling in the lower abdomen, listening only to your breathing and slightly squelching sounds. Theodore hardly breathes, looking at his fingers, trying for a moment to distract himself with the fleeting thought "good that cut nails" — but when your... your bare foot touches his shoulder, it seems so perversely seeing your calves that he does not know where to look — freezing for a moment, his eyes are drawn only to you, even if it looks so... sweetly vulgar, completely wrong, — but you're already married, so it's okay even if you're not like that, right? It's okay when he sees something below your neck and bare arms, it's okay when you squeeze his hair tightly again, it's okay when he hears your hot, loud breathing, as if you're breathing directly into his red ears, although he can't even look up from the way you're holding him.

Your fingers are strong, dexterous, squeezing his strands so hard that he can't move anywhere, but for some reason he is too pleased with this than he should be, even when Theodore feels like you are pushing him even closer shamelessly, as if he is not your, actually, noble and high-minded husband, who is now plays the role of your doctor, helping you with your "hysteria", but some kind of fun boy!

Outrageous!

“D-darl-!~”

You hiss something, almost growl — and pull too hard, forcing Theodore to briefly let out a distant sigh without resistance — and obediently open his mouth, hastily removing his fingers so as not to interfere before he finds a new, more comfortable place. His eyes are slightly watering from the mild pain, but when he does not see a shadow of the old irritation or anger in your face, he obediently sticks out the tip of his red tongue, not trying to shirk his doctoral duties — or is this already a marital duty? Theodore doesn't know, he's not sure, — especially when you hold him even tighter, not listening to what he says, knowing that if he really was "against it", he would have already got out, and not looked at you like a fawn at a hunter, as if it wasn't because of him that you were here, with legs spread apart and heavy breathing from the heaviness in the lower abdomen.

Is this really what he was taught at university?

A boy for fun.

The corners of your husband's eyes turn red, but he does not try to say anything or justify himself, — why should he? — making inarticulate sounds, but only moving his head, hesitantly holding your hips as much as he could do it respectfully and unobtrusively; after all, he is a learned man, even if he was kneeling like some kind of animal or a slave.

When Theodore awkwardly, clumsily moves his tongue, trying to make sure that you feel good, for some reason the world feels much brighter and sharper, — especially when the heat gets stronger, making you tremble slightly, feeling a wide tongue and thin flexible fingers, as if they are perfect only for this, but there is less air in your lungs than you need to continue dirty deservedly whisper to him how low he has sunk, from his 'writing letters to the best doctors he studied with' to kneeling in front of his spouse.

It's not that you're going to stop him or let him change his position, of course, but just force him to continue doing what he's good for, while he's almost meowing, almost purring, not trying to pull away anymore.

... It's not that he's wrong, though.

You definitely feel better after a little therapy.

[humanpurposes]

Hysteria

(1950s AU) A housewife reaches breaking point and seeks medical advice at her husband's request // Main Masterlist

Aemond x nameless female character

Warnings: 18+, smut, period typical sexism, dub-con,

Words: 5400

A/n: inspired by this ask on @lightningandfireinmybones 's blog, shout out to @b-vvitched for the prompt, I couldn't stop thinking about it :) Also available to read on AO3.

She reads over the gold painted letters on the door to make sure she has the right room.

Dr A. Targaryen

General Practitioner

She brings her hand up to the door, hesitating for a moment before she softly taps her knuckles against the wood, thrice.

She holds her breath, unsure if a moment passes or a minute.

His voice comes soft and distant from the other side. “Enter.”

The room is simply four white walls, a dark wood desk and cabinets and an examination table with black leather upholstery. The harsh afternoon sun and a slight breeze bleed in from the open windows, floating through thin, white curtains. It’s surprisingly serene but still plain and inoffensive.

Dr Targaryen– Aemond as he insists as he shakes her hand– has harsh blue eyes, the left framed by a long scar slicing down his face, a pointed nose, curved lips, a sharp jaw and pale blond hair, stylishly gelled like some movie star. Something about him is unsettling despite the small smile and the impeccable manners as he offers her a seat in the green leather chair on the other side of his desk.

She contracts her hand slightly once he lets go of her. His grip had been rather firm.

He opens a brown leather notebook and flicks through a clipboard on the desk, frowning and tapping a pen against it as he goes over some paperwork and basic information she had given the nurse, as instructed.

She holds her hands together in her lap and winces at how damp her palms are. She’s sure it’s just the weather, and smooths them over her pale blue, rayon skirt. She checks her nails while she’s at it too. She had painted them red the night before, but they are already starting to chip from where she’d started her day with washing the dishes and doing a deep clean of the kitchen.

“You said your husband recommended you seek medical advice, is that right?” he asks, his head tilted down and his eyes meeting hers, expecting a prompt answer, she realises.

She swallows through the scratchy feeling in her throat, wishing she had accepted the receptionist’s offer of water. “Yes, that’s right.”

His eyes move over the page again and he gives a cryptic “hmm.”

The specifics often change but lately she’s realised that each day of her life feels the same. Wake up before her husband, make his coffee and his breakfast, make sure he wants for nothing and see him off to work. Help the mother-in-law with her shopping and her laundry. Bake a cake for the village fundraiser and drop it off at the the Church. Make polite conversation with the vicar and the other women helping out, compliment their babies, ask about the older children. Try not to cry when she’s bombarded with the dreaded question. “How soon can we expect little ones from you?”

Two weeks ago her husband had come home from work and found her on the sofa, staring into space, too tired to even reach for a book or a magazine. Everything had seemed to be going wrong for her that day, evidenced by the broken washing machine, the broken heel on her shoe, the cuts and blisters on her feet, the shopping left unceremoniously on the kitchen counter. She was absolutely exhausted, but when his dinner wasn't ready and waiting for him, her husband hit the roof.

Something snapped. Before she knew it, she was screaming, eyes hot and streaming with tears as she choked on her own sobs. She had never been so loud in her life. She can hardly even remember what she said.

Her husband’s voice screams inside her head. “Emotional… irrational… hysterical…”

“And you went to the nurse first?” Aemond asks. 

“Yes.”

He looks back at the notes. “What did she tell you?”

She shifts in her chair. It should all be right there in front of him, why does she have to say it?

She takes a deep breath, as subtly as she can. “She suggested it could be a hormonal imbalance, or a symptom of…”

Aemond raises a brow, expectantly.

She feels a warmth rushing to her cheeks “... monthly courses,” she says quietly.

“And have you had issues with those?” he asks.

“They can be irregular.”

He hums again and writes something in his notebook.

She clenches her fist around her skirt and notices the soft ticking of the clock on the wall over the desk. It’s not too obtrusive, and the rhythm gives her something to focus on while neither of them are speaking.

Aemond shifts back in his chair, crossing a leg over the other, absentmindedly pressing the lid of his pen to his lips like he’s trying to solve a crossword in the morning paper. “What exactly was your husband’s main concern?”

There comes a familiar feeling, an emptiness in her chest like her body might concave, and a swelling in her eyes. She bites down on her lip to dispel the urge to cry.

Everyone around her loves to comment on how happy she is, how blessed she is to have such a happy marriage and a loving husband.

“He says I’ve been too emotional.”

“Emotional in what way?”

She tells him about the outburst two weeks ago, expecting him to tut and shake his head and chide her for her behaviour. Instead he watches her and listens.

“He says he doesn’t know what else to do with me. He says he does everything he can to make me happy, but that it’ll never be enough for me,” she says.

“And does he make you happy?” he asks.

Her answer hitches in her throat. The obvious response would be of course. He does what any good husband does, works, brings home a salary, sweet talks her mother and smokes cigars with her father when they visit every other Sunday. 

Happiness seems to be an external factor, something people comment on and praise her. When other people say she is happy she wears it with pride, like a medal or a precious piece of jewellery.

She loves her husband, as well as any self respecting woman does. She reminds herself that’s the whole reason why she’s here.

At her silence Aemond smiles to himself and begins to write. She follows how his fingertips grip the pen and how the tendons in his hands flex.

“Wait!” she says, shuffling forward in her seat.

He pauses and looks at her like he did before, with his chin tilted down.

“No– I meant to say yes. Yes, he makes me happy.”

His eyes move around her face and briefly down, over the pearl charm hanging from her neck, her white blouse and her hands bunched in her blue skirt. She releases them when she realises he’s looking and rests them on the arms of the chair instead.

This feels like a test, one in which every word and gesture will be put to scrutiny, earning either a curious “hmm” or a scratching of the pen against the paper. She wonders which is worse.

“How long have you been married?” he asks.

“A year in July.”

“No children?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

His question leaves a tight feeling in her chest and in her gut. 

Aemond sets the pen down on the desk without making a sound. “Sorry, I know these questions can be obtrusive. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but it would be useful to know what I’m working with.”

That’s an odd way to phrase it, she thinks.

“No it’s alright,” she says, her fingers moving anxiously over each other. “It’s not for lack of trying. We… try a few times a week. Usually on the weekends or when he’s not tired– he’s often tired after work.”

“And how is it?”

“Oh, um–” without thinking her hands move back into her lap and she starts to pick at the red nail polish. “He says there’s something wrong with me.”

Aemond tilts his head. “Wrong with you?”

She squeezes her thighs together at the familiar memory of her husband’s downright painful attempts to make love to her. He practically has to force his way inside of her and she can never stand it for more than a few thrusts before she pushes him off. 

He was understanding for the first few months, but she can tell it’s starting to irritate him now. She doesn’t understand why it doesn’t work, what she could possibly be doing wrong.

“Does he prepare you?” 

She looks up with a knitted brow. “Prepare me?”

He tuts and mutters something that sounds like “poor thing,” before scrawling another quick note. 

Then he stands, rolling up the sleeves of his white coat and the black shirt underneath. “I want to check a few things,” he says, cocking his head towards the examination table on the other side of the room.

She follows dutifully, propping her hands against the leather upholstery and pushing herself up to sit on it. Her black heels don’t reach the floor. She crosses them at the ankle and lets them swing a little. 

Once Aemond has washed his hands he approaches her. He’s tall, she realises as he stands before her. His hips are level with her knees and the edge of the table and while he’s not quite close enough to touch her, her legs twitch at the proximity.

She tries to avert her gaze from the somewhat intense expression in his eyes as he simply looks at her. Her eyes don’t stop moving, looking past his shoulder or down at her sides, but there’s not anything interesting to look at.

She focuses on the steady ticking of the clock, counting ten long seconds before she realises she’s holding her breath.

When she finally releases she finds herself focusing instead on the gentle sounds of Aemond’s breath through his nose, the smell of his hair gel, musky aftershave and the lingering scent of smoke. 

Warm fingertips brush against her jaw as he brings her to look at him. She can feel the slight roughness of the pads of his fingers, but he’s gentle when he touches her, almost cautious. 

He leans in a little closer until he’s touching her knees. She doesn’t let herself react but her heart is drumming furiously, more so when his thumb strokes over her cheek. He moves back and forth, grazing the corner of her mouth, before he swipes it over her lower lip. 

She relaxes her mouth as he presses and tugs on the soft flesh. It’s somehow both terrifying and oddly reassuring.

And then he settles, pressing both of her lips into a slight pout while his fingertips rest against her jaw and the top of her neck.

“Open your mouth for me,” he says.

She stares back at him with wide eyes. Had she heard that correctly?

The corners of his mouth curl politely, waiting for her compliance.

So she does as he asks.

With his fingers holding her chin, Aemond inches his thumb into her mouth, settling on her tongue. His skin tastes clean and faintly medicinal from the amber soap.

“You can close your mouth,” he says.

She keeps her eyes on his as she closes her lips around him, careful not to touch him with her teeth.

He hums again, low and contentedly. “Good girl.”

She shudders at the sudden weightlessness in her belly.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

She gives him a small nod.

"Good," he utters, "just breathe."

She loses count of the seconds on the clock as he simply settles inside of her. She does as he says, breathing deeply through her nose, looking up at him through her eyelashes, trying to read if he's pleased or not.

When he starts to withdraw and she instinctively drags her tongue along his thumb. She looks down at his hand, the imprint of her mauve lipstick on his skin, the glistening digit and the small line of spit that trails from her mouth, which he wipes away with his fingers.

“How did that feel?” he asks.

She thinks for a moment. “Good.”

He glances down and her eyes follow, to the fabric of her skirt. When she stands it falls to her shin, but seated, the hem rides up to just below her knees. He places a wide hand on her left knee, their skin separated only by a thin layer of nylon stockings.

“These outbursts of yours,” he mutters, “are they a regular occurrence?”

“Not really,” she says.

“What do you think caused it?”

She presses her teeth together and looks away from him to think. “Lots of things I suppose. It all piles up.”

“How did it feel, to shout at your husband?”

She huffs a laugh at the instinct that appears in her head, it’s not something she should ever admit, but there’s something about Aemond’s eyes and the feeling of his hands that make her want to tell him the truth,

“I liked it, I was just so…” she shakes her head looking for the right word, but she supposes there’s a simpler explanation. “I was so angry, angrier than I’ve ever been in my life.”

“What were you angry at?” Aemond asks, his thumb starting to stroke against her thigh. 

Would it be too much to list every aspect of her life that irritates her?

She hates a lot of things. She hates tidying the house just for it to get messy again. She hates it when her new shoes dig into her skin and make her bleed. She hates that she seems incapable of interacting with another person without suffering their scrutiny. She hates it when people tell her that her life is perfect.

Everything races around in her head, screaming and shouting at her until the noise becomes silent, just a throbbing pain in her head.

“Just… everything,” she groans, rubbing her fingertips against her temple. “I don’t understand it, everyone says our life together is so perfect, but I don’t feel perfect.”

His hand moves away from her and she looks up at the absence.

Aemond takes a slow breath. “Are you familiar with hysteria?”

Her heart sinks and he seems to see it in her face.

He purses his lips for a moment before he explains, “it’s essentially an excess of ill-managed emotions. It can lead to irrational behaviour and quite severe distress.”

She’s heard of the condition before, sparse stories here and there of men who had no choice but to seek proper treatment for their wives when they are too emotional… irrational… hysterical.

She’s not like those women, surely, and her husband knows that, right?

“Is that what's wrong with me?” she asks.

His mouth quirks. “Quite possibly.”

“But I’ve heard of women with this condition before. I’ve heard what their husbands do to them, I—” she can feel her eyes beginning to well with hot, stinging tears. “That’s not going to happen to me, is it?”

She hangs her head, dread pooling in her belly, until his hands cup the sides of her face. Aemond brings her gaze up into his eyes.

“Don’t send me away,” she whispers, blinking the tears from her eyes so they roll down her cheeks. “Please, there must be something you can do–”

“There there, pet,” he says, tracing his thumbs along her teartracks, “everything is going to be alright, hmm? We can sort you out.”

She nods at his reassurance and the feeling of his hands against her skin. It must be entirely improper to be so close to another man, even more so when she starts to realise just how much she likes it, a sweet sort of unease. Perhaps that’s just his nature, perhaps he’s just good at this part of his job.

For a moment he presses his lips together in a strange way, like he’s holding something back. “There is one treatment I’m keen to suggest,” he says.

“What treatment?” she asks.

He tilts his head slightly. “Hysteria is an instability of emotion. You need a release.”

“Like when I shouted at my husband?”

He smiles at that. “It felt good, didn’t it?”

She nods.

“We can undergo controlled releases,” he says, “you’ll be much happier for it.”

She takes a sharp breath when one of his hands moves down from her cheek to rest casually at her waist.

“I can start the treatment today, if you’d like?”

His face is close to hers now, She feels every flutter of his breath, the heat of his body separated by inches of empty space.

“Yes please,” she says quietly, like she might disturb the peacefulness in the room if she speaks any louder. “If it’s not too much trouble?”

“Don’t worry, pet, we’ve still got plenty of time left,” he says, stepping away. “Take your skirt off, and lie back.”

Suddenly her skin feels tight. “My skirt?”

“If you don’t mind?” he says over his shoulder as he walks towards his desk. “It just makes things a little easier, maybe the blouse too.”

She hops down from the table, heels clicking against the floor.  While Aemond’s pen scratches against paper, she turns her back and starts to pick at the buttons on the top of her blouse. She pulls it over her head and folds it, setting it down on the table, where her head will go. Then she pulls down the zip on her skirt and lets it fall around her. For the slightly mortifying prospect of standing there in her stockings and undergarments, the breeze from the window washes over the bare skin of her arms and torso. It’s quite nice, a welcome relief.

She waits with her heels close together and her hands clasped in front of her. Aemond has his back to her and she watches the way the sunlight catches in the silvery streaks of his hair. He tears a sheet from the pad of prescription papers and leaves it on his desk before he moves to the sink to wash his hands. It’s methodical, like before, well rehearsed and memorised for efficiency. Does he even have to think about what he’s doing, she wonders?

Once his hands are dried he reaches into a drawer under his desk. He keeps his eyes on the small object in his hands as he walks towards her.

She straightens her back and puts her hands on the table behind her, testing her weight so she can shuffle on top of it. 

Aemond looks up and she pauses.

His eyes dart up and down her body. “Shoes and stockings off too.”

Blood rushes to her cheeks but she complies, reaching down to undo the small buckles on each shoe. Once they’re under the table she stands straight and curls her thumbs around her stockings.

She looks up to Aemond. He gives her a small nod.

She starts to pull the thin material down her legs, so thin it should hardly make a difference. She shivers as the breeze meets a new part of her body. She straightens again, dutifully awaiting her next instruction. 

The corners of Aemond’s mouth curl. “Perfect,” he mutters. 

He steps closer to her, until she can make out the object in his hands. It’s a coppery colour, gleaming like metal, and no smaller than a tube of lipstick. He slips it into his coat pocket.

She follows Aemond’s hand as he reaches out and runs a slender finger under the strap of her brassiere. “I think we’ll keep this on,” he says.

She nods, though she doesn’t really know why.

A hum sounds in his throat and his eyes look over her face. “Lie back.”

She does as he says and fiddles with her hands, unsure of where to put them until she decides to keep them by her sides. Anticipation sets her nerves alight. She listens to every breath, each taunting footstep as Aemond comes to stand at the foot of the bed.

He moves slowly so as not to agitate her, but her whole body tenses when his hands clasp around her ankles. It’s obvious he’s trying to be gentle, but even when softly spoken his voice leaves a restless feeling in her gut. “Shh, try to relax, and just let me…” he lifts her legs up along her body until her knees are by her hips. His hands go to her thighs next and she lets out a short whimper of surprise when he pulls her closer to him.

“There we go,” he muses to himself, one hand on her thigh while he gently rests the other on her navel, over the hem of her panties.

Her hands are restless, fists clenching and nails digging into her palms.

Aemond looks down at her with a hint of concern. “You can tell me if you want to stop, at any point.”

“No it’s alright,” she breathes, suppressing the urge to arch her back.

His brows raise as he looks down, grazing his fingertips over her skin. Each movement has her breath hitching or her body squirming, no matter how hard she tries to relax, just as he’d instructed.

He brings both hands to her knees, closing them together before he reaches for her panties and slides them from her legs. She doesn’t see where he drops them. Her hands come into fists again as he gradually spreads her legs. 

She’s not sure what to expect or how this is supposed to help her control her emotions, but she tries to concentrate on staying still, keeping whatever dignity she has left.

“Look at that,” Aemond hums, circling his thumbs against her inner thighs, “you’re already getting wet.”

She can feel it, the warmth pooling between her legs. No one has ever told her it’s bad, but it’s one of those things she wonders if she should be ashamed of. She tries to shift but there’s nowhere for her body to go, nowhere she can hide from him.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters, “it’s not bad, is it?”

Aemond frowns. “You mean you don’t…” he trails off as his face melts into an amused sort of sympathy, like he’s piecing together a puzzle. “Bad news for your husband maybe. It means you’re aroused.”

Aroused. She repeats the word to herself a few times. 

Surely it is a bad thing to find herself in such a state, only she finds herself turning her attention to Aemond. Her gaze trails shamelessly over the veins and tendons of his hands and forearms as he kneads at her thighs, the curve of his upper lip and the tip of his tongue swiping between his teeth. If only she could read his mind, figure out what he’s thinking behind those pretty blue eyes, what hypothesis he’s playing around with inside his head. 

And then he reaches into his pocket. She lifts her head to try and get a better look. The coppery object looks more like an oversized bullet, with a slightly pointed head and a black button at its base. When Aemond presses the button it starts to hum. Even the noise of it sparks a reaction from her. She feels something strange, like a shockwave flashing through her body.

“Relax,” Aemond says, bringing his other hand to her hip. “I don’t want to have to tie you down.”

“No,” she utters, “sorry.” She lets her head fall against the upholstery and stares up at the ceiling, determined not to react.

Until something presses to her centre, humming against her. Pleasure pulses through her, unfamiliar but hot and bright. Her eyes snap shut and her hips try to buck but Aemond’s hand holds her down. 

“How does it feel?” he says.

Her first attempt to speak comes out as a broken whimper. “Good,” she manages, stilling her hips from trying to rock against the bullet. “Fuck…”

Something inside of her feels tight, tensing and tensing until she’s sure she can’t take any more. But he keeps it against her, making small, rhythmic movements through her folds, edging her closer to that rising feeling only to relieve her of it.

Her nails start to drag along the leather, clawing at it for purchase. She tries to stay still, to keep her hips steady but something has to give. She turns her head to the side, whimpering and groaning into her shoulder.

“There you go,” Aemond hums, as he finds a truly torturous pattern, slowly swiping upwards from her entrance to the sweet spot of her pearl, only to start over. 

“Please,” she whimpers as he tears her away from that feeling again. Blissful tears blur her vision and she feels utterly weightless. “I can’t stand it…”

He lingers the bullet just below her pearl. She’s so close to something. She can feel it. 

“Do you want to stop?” Aemond asks.

“No!” she cries.

He starts to move in small circles now and her body feels like it’s burning. “Just take it,” he says, “you can take it, just be a good girl for me, hmm?”

“Yes… yes…” she utters like a dreamy chant. 

The button clicks and the vibrations increase. She hardly registers the wanton noises she makes, but she’s all too aware of wet sounds of her arousal and Aemond’s short hums when her hips start to buck again.

“You’re so close, aren’t you?” Aemond says. “Come on, pet, you can do it, you’re almost there…”

She feels the hum of her throat as she groans his name and suddenly the tight feeling snaps. Her whole body releases, just as Aemond promised, and she feels herself come undone. He guides her through it, the bullet whirring against her and his hand steady on her hip.

When he finally withdraws, her limbs don’t feel like her own. She listens to her own breath and feels the rise and fall of her chest as she wills herself into a state of awareness. She props herself onto her elbows and her eyes meet Aemond’s.

He smirks, and looks down again, gently drawing a thumb through her folds. 

Her back arches and her breath hitches, though not as intensely as before. She can feel how slick she is now, how easily he moves against her. She eases under his touch and just lets it feel good.

“You did so well,” he says, “fuck, the way your cunt twitches when you come…”

She gazes at him with a bewildered kind of awe, at his parted lips, the golden glow of sunlight trailing down his jaw and his neck, and now the dark, almost hungry look in his eyes. She can already feel the desire rising again, the wanting for more.

“There’s something else I want to try,” he says. His thumb slips further down, teasing her entrance. “If you’ll let me?”

She holds her bottom lip between her teeth and nods.

“Good girl,” he hums.

That alone has her trying to roll her hips against him, but then he’s gone. She wants to groan in protest but keeps her mouth shut as she watches him remove his white coat and black shirt, both of which he drapes over his chair. For his seemingly slender frame, he’s surprisingly muscular. 

With his back still turned to her she watches his hands move to his trousers. She hears the clinking of his belt buckle and the sound of his fly coming undone. He reaches back into the same drawer, tears something between his teeth and discards a small, white packet on the desk. 

As he comes to stand before her once more she can’t help the small smile that graces her lips, unashamedly appreciating the muscles of his torso, his pectorals and the lines of his abdominals, and his now freed cock, already hard, and certainly larger than her husband’s.

He stands before her once again, bringing her knees down so he can slot himself between her legs.

She can already feel herself twitching and her heart racing. 

He doesn’t waste much time on preamble. “You’re fucking soaked,” he mutters, lining the his cock to her entrance and taking a hold of her thigh, “be a shame to waste it.”

She expects it to hurt when he pushes inside of her, and for a moment it does. She feels the way he stretches her out with just the tip. He moves slowly, dragging in and out of her, each time pushing in a little more. She can take the pain, at least until it starts to melt away. After a few strokes it feels effortless.

Aemond lets out a sharp grunt as he comes close to bottoming out. “How does it feel?” he asks with a small amount of strain.

It’s a different kind of pleasure, it’s duller and deeper, less frantic but it still burns in the best way.

“Good,” she breathes.

Aemond’s hands take hold of her waist as he increases his pace, dragging her into him to match his thrusts.

The air feels hot and thick now, the ticking of the clock drowned out by laboured panting, breathless moans and the soft sounds of skin meeting skin.

“Fuck you’re tight,” he hisses, sinking his fingertips deeper into her flesh.

“I don’t suppose that’s a medical term?” she says with a dazed grin.

Aemond huffs a laugh but it seems to spur him on, his jaw slack and his brow furrowed in determination. 

She wraps her legs around his hips and reaches up for him, but all she manages is to graze her fingertips over his torso. He snatches her wrists, leaning over to pin them on either side of her head as he brutally starts to snap her hips into hers. Like this he fucks her deeper and harder against the leather.

She feels her release building slowly, his cock brushing against a spot that has her eyes watering again.

“Going to come for me?” Aemond grits out, pressing his forehead to hers. 

“I want to,” she whimpers, arching her back to get closer to him, “fuck–”

He releases one of her wrists and slips his hand between them, circling her pearl with the pads of his fingers. 

He brings his lips to the shell of her ear. “You’re squeezing me so good,” he whispers harshly, “nearly there, nearly there sweetheart…”

Her legs start to shake as her pleasure peaks and her climax washes over her. Every part of her body tenses and moulds itself into him. Aemond doesn’t relent, he keeps fucking her until she’s whining and squirming, until finally he lets out a guttural groan into her neck. His hips still and she feels him throbbing inside of her, spilling himself into the condom.

For a moment she’s content to lie there, no matter how uncomfortable the surface of the bed is. She likes Aemond’s weight on top of her, his breath on her neck, the scent of him, the sweat from his brow against her skin. But they don’t stay like that for long. He pulls away from her and makes quick work of disposing of the condom and tucking himself back into his trousers.

“Nothing wrong in that regard,” he says, reaching for her hand to help her sit up. “If you’re having trouble it’s the fault of your husband. He needs to prepare you before he tries to fuck you.”

She flicks her hair from her neck to relieve some of the heat. “Oh, right.” She can feel herself trembling, but she feels light, like a weight has been lifted from her shoulders. 

“How are you feeling now?” he asks, placing a reassuring hold to her arm.

“Good,” she says.

Aemond carefully helps her back into her panties, stockings, shoes, blouse and skirt. He rights her necklace, wipes the dried tears from her cheeks, drags his thumb around her mouth where her lipstick has smudged and helps her down from the bed, keeping a firm hand on her until she nods to let him know she’s alright. 

He tears off a prescription paper and hands it to her. She quickly skims over it. He’s not prescribed any medication or recommended a lobotomy, thank God. 

“Contraction therapy?” she reads, looking up at him with a raised brow.

“I want to see you twice weekly,” he says, buttoning up his shirt. “Maybe we can go for three times a week, if you feel it would be beneficial.”

She tries her best to hide her smile. “Well I’m sure you know best, doctor.”

General Taglist (comment if you wanna be added): @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart (Chapter 5) Human!Alastor x Reader)

Rated Adult Chapter Trigger Warnings: Alastor is a little shit.

AN: Reminder- Double update this week, See you Friday. Updates will now be every Friday!

Now with Audio by Nyx Productions, read by the lovely @nyx-umbrakinesis. Want to revisit the land of Misdemeanor but don't have time to sit and read? Maybe it's your first visit and you want the whole experience? Let Nyx read you a story: Part 1, Part 2

Masterlist AO3 KoFi

“It’s just up here,” Laurence said, glancing over his shoulder to find his dinner guest lagging behind. He needed this loan and yet dinner wasn’t wasn’t off to a great start if he couldn’t at least keep the man’s attention long enough to get to his office. He just needed you to not fuck up somehow when bringing ice up or finishing dinner. 

“A lovely wife you have, Laurence. It’s a shame for her to be married to a man so eager to offer her as collateral,” Alastor said, as the stairs creaked with each step he took. 

“Nothing but a jest, Mr. Moreau.” 

“Of course,” Alastor said, doing nothing to cover the fact that he didn’t believe Laurence had said it in jest for a minute. 

“We’ll let her finish up fixing dinner while we-”

“See to business. Yes, yes, that’s fine.” 

Laurence shut the office door as Alastor stepped inside, sealing them off from the wonderful aroma of fresh bread that permeated the lower level of the home. What a shame, Alastor thought.

You had invited Alastor to make himself at home when he came into the house, so he did just that. Rather than sit in one of the overstuffed chairs across from Laurence’s desk, Alastor walked around the small office, eyes taking in little details as they ran over trinkets and notes.

“Is Emma a pet name for your darling wife? Such an illogical choice.” Alastor turns from the calendar, eyes running over the desk.

Laurence laughed nervously. It was clear to Alastor that he didn’t enjoy having someone he couldn’t control in his space. “Oh well, you know how men are.”

“And how is that?” Alastor asked, cataloguing every bit of information he could about who Laurence was and what kind of man he really was. 

Laurence gaped, fishing for the correct answer in his small brain. Alastor wasn’t playing by the typical male script he was used to dealing with. Dreadfully dull, Alastor thought. He couldn’t come up with a slight excuse to cover his affair? Men’s desire to run around on their partners never made sense to him. 

“Was there a reason we must abandon the hostess?” Alastor finally settled into a chair, leaning back and crossing his legs. This may be Laurence’s home ground but Alastor made it clear who really had the power at the moment.

“This is men’s business…” Laurence tailed off at the soft tap tap at the door. 

You did not enter this space, Alastor filed that away as well. He turned, watching you as you passed Laurence the tray with ice-filled glasses, hands trembling.

Were you terrified of your husband? Or was it pain? Perhaps illness? No, not illness. You flinched too much for it to be something as simple as poor health. Plus, there were the marks on your wrist. Did you think you were clever with the bracelets and the sleeves? 

“It’ll be just a few moments while I draft up the contract,” Laurence makes a show of pulling out a large typewriter case from the shelf to the left of his desk. It was clearly expensive, just as many other items in this insufferable office. 

Alastor finished his glass of whiskey in one quick drink before setting the glass down directly on the solid wood desk. When Laurance frowned at the glass set exactly two inches to the left of the coaster he had ever so blatantly requested Alastor use to protect the desk surface, Alastor simply smiles back at him. 

“While you set to that task, please do excuse me.”

“Is something the matter?” Laurence stood slowly. 

“Not at all! I’m simply off to the washroom.” 

Alastor let out the breath he felt like he had been holding forever as the door clicked shut behind him. The washroom was lit by gas, Alastor noticed, not electricity like the office and living room had been. 

Why would the Latimer household only update part of the house when adding electricity? Looking around the washroom, he saw new pipes. The home was plumbed. Upgrades had been started but stopped. Why? 

Humming as he went, Alastor continued exploring the small room. Everything was bright white, and he hated it all. The warm wood tones of the rest of the house were far better suited to his own taste.

Spotting the small glass vial on the sink, Alastor picked it up and opened it. The smell made him cringe. Medicinal and strong. Laudanum, if he had to guess though, the label was ripped from the bottle in places. Who did it belong to and who were they hiding the contents of the bottle from?

Alastor had taken it before and never been a fan of how it had made his head feel. 

Sure, he had a bottle on hand in his own medicine cabinet but his was covered in dust and nearly new. This vial was clean, fresh and nearly half empty. Who took it? Was it you or Laurence that took it often enough for the vial to be fresh? 

Stepping out of the washroom, Alastor looked first at the closed office door. The click click click of the typewriter behind the door gave away how slow of a typist Laurence was. At the rate he was going, Alastor could type the contract four times over before Laurence would finish the first copy. 

Hell, he could draft it by hand faster than the keystrokes were coming from beside the door.

Instead of rejoining Laurence in the office, Alastor kept walking down the hall. He was mindful of each step as he descended the stairs, avoiding those he had noticed squeaked under weight. 

Laurence was eager to offer his wife as collateral, but clearly didn’t enjoy it when Alastor paid her any attention. Though Alastor shot down the offer at Mimzy’s, it surprised him that Laurence didn’t offer those same terms again. Instead, it was his car Laurence was drafting the contract for. 

Alastor had no trouble finding the kitchen. He moved through the house silently, leaning against the doorframe as he watched you work. Your back was to him, allowing him the freedom to watch you without reservation. 

If Mimzy was here, she would tell him how he could have this, whatever this was. He wasn’t so sure that it was something he ever wanted. He knew it was something he could have, and he likewise knew it was something he didn’t need. But did he want the domestic life?

It hadn’t worked out so well for his mother. If people were talking about him, though, that wasn’t in his favor. Could he trust a meek little woman in his space, keep her happy and entertained enough that she wouldn’t run around town being a gossip? Would he be able to find someone who would look the other way and believe it was animal blood that stained his clothes?

As he watched you in his thoughts, you worked the loaf of bread out of the pan. Thinking you were alone, you held your injured shoulder stiffly, using your body to brace it as you moved. When you shifted it wrong, you gasped softly in pain, muttering softly under your breath a reminder that the meal needed to be perfect. 

You dropped the loaf into the bread slicer contraption, then braced the end of the box against your apron covered front and slowly sliced through the loaf again and again until the loaf was leaning forward, sliced into neat sheets of bread sitting in a sea of crumbs. The rich smell of beef gravy was thick in the kitchen, hearty and welcoming. 

You were humming to yourself as you worked. It was a pleasant sound that Alastor found he enjoyed. As you turned to put the sliced bread into the basket, he stepped back out of what would be your line of sight. From where he stood, he could see you as you stepped up to the oven, but you were unlikely to see him. 

He watched as you rubbed your wrist, pushing the bracelets up and running your hand over the dark bruise. Though his eyes were not the best, Alastor could see the clear definition marking where fingers had wrapped around your wrist with more force than was ever justifiable. 

Why did you stay? Did you like being thrown around? He doubted it. You hardly looked like you loved your husband. It was clear as day that you were uncomfortable with him every time his hands touched you. The farce was better executed in public than he had seen in your home, but he saw nothing that told him you held anything close to affection for the man you were married to.

Carefully, you reached out with the towel draped over both hands and grabbed the handles of the kettle. Hesitation had you standing in that position as heat seeped into the fabric for longer than Alastor expected. Surely your hands were getting close to burning.

Then you lifted. The kettle didn’t make it any more than an inch off the iron burners before clattering back down as you cried out softly. Alastor watched as your shoulders sagged and you sniffled. 

You wouldn’t be able to lift the kettle. You wouldn’t be able to pull the meat out of it and put it in the serving dish. Dinner would be ruined, and you were convinced it would be your fault. 

“Allow me,” Alastor’s voice came from the doorway, startling you. 

“Oh, no- It’s fine.” You looked around for Laurence. The last thing you needed was for him to see you inconveniencing his guest. 

“He’s in his office, drafting the contract at the pace of a schoolboy,” Alastor’s long strides took him into your kitchen and to your side before you had a chance to protest more. “You’re clearly struggling to lift it.” 

He took the towel from you as if the kitchen was his. It looked easy as he lifted the kettle from the stove, as if it weighed nothing. You watched dumbly as he looked around to find where you had the trivets set up. The sound of the kettle setting down on the counter snapped you out of the daze. 

“Can I help you with anything, Mr. Moreau?” you ask, trying to remind him of propriety as he scooped the pot roast from the kettle and set the crumbling hunk of meat into the serving dish for you. 

“Alastor,” his eyes flick up to you for a moment before returning to his self-assigned task. “I simply needed a moment of more agreeable company. I find your husband rather dull. however do you put up with him?”

You were not sure what you could say to such a confession. It was improper to speak to a woman about her husband in such a manner. It was improper to be alone together, doing something as intimate as household tasks together. 

Arguing with the guest was improper, but it was also not something you could agree with while remaining proper. You were not even sure if you agreed with it. Laurence was a part of your life. It wasn’t optional, so you had never thought about it. 

Instead of thinking about it, you needed to set the table in the dining room. The dishes were in an overhead cabinet. Reaching up, you opened it easily enough. Plucking up the shallow bowls was something you expected to be doing in private. 

Your shoulder ached, you needed to take a few more pain pills and lift the delicate bowls one at a time to ensure you didn’t drop them. With him there, you couldn’t do that though. It would look suspiciously like you were avoiding using your arm. 

You’d already given away too much with the kettle. 

You tried to keep a smile on your face as you reached up with both hands. Finger tips trembled in front of your eyes. No matter how hard you tried to stop them from doing so, they continued to tremble. 

Grab the dishes in one neat stack. Put them on the counter. Do not drop them. Rest a moment. Carry them to the dining room. How hard could that be? You could do it. You needed to do it. You had to do it.

“Let me get it for you,” Alastor’s voice was soft and low in your ear. 

You hadn’t heard him move, but when you jerked back from him only to have your hip strike his arm. Without you noticing, he had come up behind you and caged you in, resting his palm against the counter on your other side. 

He reached up with his other hand, leaning forward as he picked up a stack of three dishes. Your breath froze in your lungs as his chest brushed against your good shoulder and back. For a moment, you told yourself that he didn’t know. He was just being helpful until he leaned more into you. 

You gaped up at him. Too close. You had never been so close to a man you were not related to outside of Laurence. Sure, you’d bumped into men and let Alastor provide you support as you got up off the floor at the butcher, but this was different. 

It was a second really, long enough for you to register the warmth of him. He leaned forward a bit more, smirking down at you as his chest and side pressed firmer against you. 

Torso to torso, you couldn’t feel any of the give that Laurence’s body had but before you could even form a thought about what that meant for Alastor’s body, he stepped back and held the fragile china in his large hands. 

“There you are.” Your heart dropped at the sound of Laurence’s voice. Had he seen? You did nothing wrong, but women rarely escaped the blame when it came to impropriety. 

“I couldn’t help but be drawn in by the lovely aromas of your wife’s cooking.” Alastor laughed, bowls in hand as he carried them to the dining room.

Tag list: @xalygatorx, @catticora, @alastor-simp, @alastorthirsty, @rainydaysmut,  @nyx91, @kaylopolis, @sirens-and-moonflowers, @goyablogsstuff, @honestlyshamelesskid,  @lilith-jae, @yui-onnero, @charlottemorningstarsdarling, @diffidentphantom, @lunarmango  @uhhhimbored   @loveameripanshipperlove, @redvexillum

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