#horrible wasted 5 hours of my life staring at this gif

[just-some-random-blogger]

Safe Keeping | 6

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

What say you, lady? Don't you think the Hound would make a fine husband? He would protect you, yes, and you would bear him many babes." I curtsy again but this time, my voice falters when I speak, "I- I think he would," I turn to my left, "Lord Sandor would make a fine husband... a fine father."

Sandor Clegane x Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, forced marriage, smut (piv, emotional sex, praise kink), enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, miscommunication, baby fever, fluff!, typos, etc.

A/N: i said i'd end this on p5 but i think i'll be ending at p7 HAHHAH lol. originally posted on ao3 but felt like posting it on here

Tagging: @otteropera @poisonsage808 @glitterandgoldfinds @the-queen-of-sorrows @minttea07 @fluffpudel @j3nn-1 @jelsasnowflakes1

"My lady," followed by high pitched barking made me turn around from where I sat in the garden.

Maester Yannick was walking over to me, with three puppies on his trail. He lifts his robe when he feels one of the critters nip at it. He hisses at them and tells them not to bite. Rose barks and takes it as a challenge.

I chuckle and shush her, raising a finger as I bend down to reinforce the discipline.

Rose looks at me then scurries off.

I straighten up on the bench as Yannick sits beside me. We both then turn to the soldiers in the making, training across the grounds of Brown Wood.

The Hound barks at them when they get their positions wrong.

"He is lovely today," Yannick tells me.

I turn to him and chuckle, but nod nonetheless.

He continues observing my husband, "he's been training long, hasn't he?"

"Mmm. Perhaps a couple hours," I look back at Sandor, "why? Do you think it is bad for his wounds?"

"I think it is bad for you," he looks at me.

I pull my head back, "me?"

The maester stands, "you are wasting precious time. Both of you are in good conditions," he links his hands together, "for the good of your house, it would be wise for you to be more... vigilant about producing heirs."

I feel my face drop and burn.

"As you know, my lady, the herbs I make for you are not cheap. It would be a shame to put them to waste due to a lack of effort."

I clear my throat and turn away from him.

Maester Yannick nods, "which reminds me, I will go and fetch you some tea right now."

I watch him walk away.

Once he was gone, my attention is averted back to Sandor. In truth, now more than ever has his hound persona been more apparent to me. Besides his fierceness, his snarling, his grit, the way he bared his teeth and howled at everyone, I could see his loyalty, his need to do good by the people in his life, his protectiveness, especially when it came to fighting, and his warmth.

I begin to think about Daisy. I turn to my side and watch as the pups begin to wreck the garden with their paws.

I find myself thinking about that night... that night when he said he loved me.

I rub my belly, not liking the way my stomach churned at my string of thoughts.

I watch as Sandor straightens up a boy, who was about to fall flat on his face, with one hand. He shakes his head at the child and says he can't fight if he's fighting himself too.

I imagine him speaking the same way to our son.

It was a horrible mistake. As quickly as I thought of it, I then remember telling him to give me a child by another woman.

I've set him free. He does not belong to me; in truth, he never did.

I quickly stand and wipe my face.

This was no longer leisure, this was torture.

I quickly run inside, retreating to my bedroom. Once I am there, I takes my shoes off, plop on my bed, and stare up at my ceiling. I look at the cobwebs in the distant corners and I wonder why I felt like crying but had no tears to shed. I lie there in silence, wishing nothing but to waste away.

I lift my head up from the sheets and turn to the door when I hear it open. I immediately stand and brush my skirts, "Sandor."

The feel of the cold floor on my bare feet send a shiver down my spine.

Sandor cautiously looks at me, "is everything alright?"

"Mmm?" I raise my brows, "what- why do you ask?"

"You ran inside and left your babes in the garden"

My lips part at his words. My hand instinctively comes to my belly.

"Pups," he raises a hand, "I meant pups. I didn't mean--"

Sandor is cut off by the voice of maester Yannick calling my name as he knocked on my door. Sandor opens the door for him and the old man enters, smiling when he sees the two of us. He is about to hand me the tea but then decides otherwise and puts it on my vanity.

He turns to Sandor, "I am pleased you decided to attend to your wife. Her fertility herbs are slowly being depleted. I was beginning to fear it would be for naught."

I grow frigid.

With that, the maester nods and exits, "please do enjoy each other's company."

The sound of the door closing leaves me red in the face. I lock eyes with Sandor then look away, clearing my throat. I flinch when he calls out my name.

I turn back and rub my arms, "yes... husband?"

"I didn't come here for that," he mutters, raising a hand cautiously.

My chest tightens. Of course not. I open my mouth, but he cuts me off before I could make a sound.

"I came to check if you're alright," he slowly steps forward.

I tense and nod, "I am well."

I feel my heart race when he takes another step towards me.

"Y-you needn't worry about me."

"I always worry about you," he mutters as he walks closer.

My words catch in my throat, "what?"

"Let me help you," he speaks, now only a few steps away from me.

My heart is pounding. I step back slowly, "h-help?"

"In the way only a man can," he lets out a heavy breath.

My calves hit the bed. I stop in my tracks and stand frozen. The Hound is now looking down at me. I am too overwhelmed by his presence to do anything else but stare.

The next thing I know, my gaze is drawn downward as he sits on the bed and peers up at my form.

"If you want a child from me," he whispers, "I'll give you one by no other woman but you." 

I look at him, heart in my mouth, body burning. I scratch my fingers and nod at his words.

Sandor sighs, "I need to hear you say it."

"I-" I shakily speak, "I want a child," I face him, "a child by you... my lord."

His brows knit.

My breath hitches when he touches my waist.

I can hear his heavy breathing as he whispers, "Sandor. Please."

I gulp as his palm rubs slowly across my belly. The action makes my skin prickle with goosebumps. My hand comes atop his. I oblige, "Sandor."

He gently tugs me in between his legs and my breath nearly escapes me. He rests his hands on my hips then pulls me in, sinking his face into my side. My ribs rattle with how quick my pulse was.

Sandor inhales deeply, "gods, you smell good."

I feel my body burn, "i-it's lavender oil."

I squeak when he pulls me down onto his lap. He cages me against him, my back flush against his chest. He sinks his face into my neck and slowly draws in a breath. His arms snake around me as he hotly speaks, "it's you, my pretty squirrel."

I feel his hands slowly lift my skirts up. My hands latch onto his arm that was still around my belly.

"Be calm, my wife, I cleaned up before coming here, in case I had to wipe your tears."

I make a sound as he knocks his nose into my jaw and exposes one of my legs to him. 

"I don't like it when you're upset."

My breath hitches, "I-I'm not upset."

"Good."

Sandor feels the goosebumps on my skin when his hand makes contact with my bare thigh. He shushes me as he rubs and kneads my flesh. I whimper and begin to squirm when his hand hikes up my inner thigh.

His fingers touch my clothed center. He breathes hotly against the pulse of my neck, "I'm going to take this off, mmm?"

I gulp and nod slowly at his words.

I maneuver with him when his hands come under my skirts to rid me of my smallclothes. He doesn't like the space that is created between us and rips me back into him. He ruts his hips into mine to add to his point.

I whine when Sandor's right hand rubs into my heat.

"Fuck," he hisses, "you've worked yourself up over nothing."

I make a louder noise when he prods his fingers into my pulsing entrance. I can feel his fingers slide with ease against my warm folds. I instinctively grip his arm when he sinks into me.

Sandor's other arm, in turn, tightens around me, "you can take it. You've taken more than my fingers, beautiful."

I whimper when he sinks another finger into me and begins to pump in and out. My breathing grows heavier and I throw my head back on his shoulder as he moves into me.

I feel his beard scratch into my neck. I feel his teeth graze lightly into my skin. His fingers languidly move in and out of me, even as I clench my thighs together. He makes no move to part them, and in truth, it doesn't hinder his movements at all.

I feel his tongue dart out on my neck, "I want to taste you."

I slowly lift my head from his shoulder just as he pulls his hand away from my thighs and brings his fingers into his mouth. I feel sobered by his action, taken aback by how filthy it was yet how eagerly he did it.

The next thing I know, he pulls back and lets my body fall in a space between his thighs. He quickly undoes his trousers. After, he pushes me onto my feet, and grips my hips. He rather impatiently rips up my skirts and I feel my thighs shake when he grips my bare flesh.

He pulls me back down on him, and I mewl when I feel his hardened length slip clumsily between my thighs, not yet entering me. I settle on him; the sensation of his clothes on my skin makes my belly roll.

"Fuck," he growls, as my thighs instinctively clamp around him. Sandor is unable to withhold the bucking of his hips.

When he does this, pleasure, crackling like embers, tingle up my body.

"Open up," he hisses, one hand coming between my legs, "I have to be inside you. I have to come inside, have to come inside your weeping cunny."

"Sandor," I whine as I slowly part my legs.

"I know, pretty squirrel. You're so worked up, for me," he breathes against my ear then nips at my lobe, "so fucking eager."

A drawn out whine escapes my lips when he sheathes himself into me.

He wastes no time in moving. I end up squeaking as he braces me against him and firmly thrusts upward into me.

My cries grow louder as his arms tighten beneath my breasts. I feel his hand knead one breast, but it doesn't last very long.

I am throttled onto my chest and pressed down on the sheets. Sandor lifted me up like I was nothing and adjusted me on the edge of the bed.

I'm barely on my tiptoes, as most of my weight was shifted on my spine from of how my husband was hoisting me up to cater to himself.

His movements quickly pick up the pace, and our position becomes reminiscent of the time he had me like this once before, only this time, his one hand was rubbing my scarred hip and he was much more vocal.

"Look at you, all bent over and mine," he groans.

I nails dig into the sheets.

"I'm gonna fill you up. You're going to be so fucking full of me."

I squeal into the sheets. The idea drives me wild. I plead into the bed but I don't think he hears it.

Just as I felt something begin to build in me, he slows.

I open my eyes, not realizing I had closed them as Sandor drops one of my hips. I squeak when I feel him grab my shoulder and slowly turn me on my back.

My jaw drops; I breathe heavily through my mouth. Sandor looks down on me as his hands grip my sides. He pushes me upward and presses my legs by my ribs

He slowly thrusts into me, hands working their way across my body. He rubs my thighs, my belly, my breasts. His brows furrow, "fuck. So fucking soft and warm."

He massages my breasts then works his way up to my shoulders. His one hand rubs my neck before clutching my jaw. His other hand slides back down my hips. I whine when his thumb rubs circles around my sensitive nub. It makes my toes curl.

He sighs, "so fucking beautiful."

I whimper when his other thumb swipes my lips. I find myself licking at it. It makes him groan and buck into me faster.

I push my head back and arch my spine, "fuck- Sandor."

Both his hands land on my hips. He digs his nails into my flesh and begins to move deeper. Eventually, he sinks one hand down by the side of my head for support. My hands latch onto his hips.

"Come for me, pretty girl," he groans, "I'm not gonna last much longer."

I tug at his clothes.

"Be a good girl and come all over my cock, mmm. I want to feel you tighten around me-- get all messy and wet and loud and," he gives deliberate thrusts, "so fucking beautiful."

I whine, "Sandor, I want- I want to-"

I begin to tighten and shake against him. My legs wrap around him and my hands cling onto him for dear life. I find it futile to conceal my sounds, as I cannot find the strength to shut my mouth as I ride the feeling of bliss.

With a loud cuss, Sandor rams into me as deeply as he can. His movements are rough and slow. Both of his hands secured on my waist as he spills his seed into me.

I can feel him throb and can feel myself dripping with warmth.

Sandor takes his time, really drawing out the feeling before slowly coming to a halt. He lets out a final moan when he does stop then takes a deep breath.

I look at him as he closes his eyes and straightens up. My body burns when he looks down at me through hooded eyes and rubs my body again. He enjoys rubbing my breasts the most.

My hands come to his arms, and that seems to stop him.

I am about to tell him not to stop, but he speaks before I can, "wrap your legs round me."

In truth, I didn't have to do anything as he wraps my legs around himself and picks me up in his arms. I hook my feet around each other and am careful not to touch his blistered back as my hands go to his shoulders.

Sandor crawls up the bed with me clinging onto him; I feel the strength in his muscles as he moves. He sets me down on the pillows. He arranges one under my head and brings one beside me.

He looks at me for a moment then whispers, "I'm going to pull away now."

He waits for me to respond before doing anything.

In truth, the thought of him pulling away from me makes my body ache with sadness, but I slowly nod anyway.

I close my eyes as Sandor gently draws away from me. My emotions immediately overcome me in my vulnerable state. I rub my eyes when I feel tears build behind my lids. Sandor fixes my skirt and gathers my legs together. I feel him take the pillow beside me and stuff if bellow my bum.

"This will help keep my spend from dripping out."

His explanation makes my body burn.

I feel Sandor shuffle beside the bed and I hear him fixing his clothing.

I clench my jaw, dreading what I knew exactly was to come next.

I open my eyes when he calls my name. I look at him pathetically, noticing how his skin glowed with sweat, the last evidence that he was ever in me beyond his untucked shirt.

He reaches out to me and I really don't want to take his hand knowing he'll leave me after, so I don't.

I have no idea why he still grabs my hand. The action feels like a betrayal. He rubs my knuckles before kissing them. I chew my lip, feeling wronged over the fact he has never kissed my lips and probably never will.

"I will be leaving now," he mutters.

His words gut me, as always. 

I rip my hand out of his and turn away from him, "very well."

Sandor knits his brows at the sharp withdrawal. He was gentle was he not? Still, he's being turned away.

His mouth goes dry. He slowly steps back, "I..."

I turn my body away from him. I draw in a deep breath and try to make my voice as even as possible, "thank you, Sandor."

Sandor flinches. He steps back some more, "I-I'll bring your dogs here for company."

I chuckle dryly. Company. My voice breaks, "I'm tired."

Sandor's mouth twitches. He backs all the way up to the door, "I'll let you rest then."

I cover my face with my arm and hum in agreement, not trusting myself to speak anymore.

The moment I hear the click of the door, I begin to sob. I whine as his words replay in my head. How could he tell me such things, call me beautiful and say he wants me, then leave me right after? How could he touch me like that then want nothing to do with me?

I pull the pillow from underneath my head and wail into it.

Sandor, who couldn't find it in himself to step away from the door, decides not to walk back in when he hears the crying. His belly curdles with self-loathing. He feels like he's going to choke because of how hurt the noise sounded, nevermind how lovely it was seconds ago; it meant for nothing.

He walks away trying to figure out where he went wrong. He relives every touch, every sound in his memory. His eyes water when he comes to the dreadful realization it must have been horrible being with him. He forced his wretched looks onto an unwilling witness.

He gulps as he sniffles and wipes his face in frustration. He feels like walking into the forest, never to be seen again, but then he steps out to the garden and hears small barking sounds. He looks at the three pups, playing with the boys, who should have been training, and feels his heart twist.

He finds himself imagining what the scene would've been like if Daisy was here... if his pretty squirrel-- he shuts the thought away.

I knock on Sandor's office door and enter when he tells me to come in.

He looks up, does a double take, then immediately stops doing whatever it was he was doing. He clears his throat, "Lady Clegane."

His words pierce through me. He's never called me that before. I close the door and walk towards him, "Lord husband. Good morrow to you. Where is Andrew?"

His shoulders tense, "he... should be here any minute."

I nod as I halt in front of his desk, "he has gotten good enough at reading and balancing coin, I hope?"

Sandor sighs, "yes."

I notice the crumbs on his beard, then I notice a plate on his desk. He must have broken fast here. I fidget with my fingers and wipe my chin, hoping he would get the message. He doesn't. I decide not to note on it and simply get to the point, "maester Yannick said your wounds have dried up, and that if you liked, you could go on your rounds again."

Sandor nods and straightens in his chair, "I think I'll start once I'm confident in the bloke balancing our coin."

I nod slowly and link my hands together, "alright," I shift in my spot and turn to the door.

I look back at him and feel my body burn under his scrutiny. I offer a smile, "that is all I wanted to say," I rub my hands together, "-wanted to check on you."

I gasp when he jumps out of his chair.

I clutch my chest and stare at him. He had an arm raised and reached out to me. It dawns on me he said something but it was too quick for me to catch.

I release a breath, "pardon?"

Sandor lowers his hand, rolls his shoulders back, and clears his throat, "I... I asked how you're doing."

It takes me a few moments to realize the meaning of his words. I shift and my spot and rub my chest. I feel my neck burn when he further clarifies his question.

"Yesterday, when we... bedded, I didn't hurt you, did I?"

I draw out a deep breath and smile softly, "you were... gentle with your touches."

Sandor is unsatisfied.

I aimlessly look around, "and, anyway, I am not as fragile as you think."

He purses his lips and tilts his head. He takes a moment before speaking, and when he does, he does so hesitantly, "I was afraid I made my pretty wife weep again."

I instinctively let out a laugh, but it was clearly unamused and pained. I feel like I was being scorched alive when I look at him looking at me. I shake my hands, suddenly in denial, "no, I was quite satisfied!"

Sandor's eyes widen a fraction.

Fuck. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. What am I saying?

He blinks twice and wipes his mouth. Finally his crumbs fall off. He mutters, "that's... good."

I release my final chuckle. He turns to his desk, fixes some things, then looks back to me. He looks like he means to smile but he doesn't, "I'm glad."

He slowly sits down afterwards.

I feel like I'm being weighed down by anchor.

That was it. That was the conversation.

Sandor is no longer looking at me. He shuffles the paper into a file and I slowly begin to feel the air around us thicken.

He sets the parchment down and darts his eyes to me. He purses his lips again and I catch the way his face twitches. He opens his mouth and slowly points to the door, "if that's all... I would not keep you."

I don't know why I laugh again, but I do. It's not even funny. I feel like being stabbed would have been better, more amusing at this point. I curtsy at him and shuffle backwards, "of course. I do not mean to keep you either."

Sandor feels sick. He clenches his fists and turns to his desk. He breathes in deeply, trying not to rile himself up any more than he already was. Gods knew he would use all his strength to keep this room locked.

I walk towards the door and turn the knob. I feel a wave of tears threatening to spill, and I slap my mouth when a squeak leaves me.

Sandor is immediately alerted. He looks up and pushes himself on the edge of the seat, "what?"

I turn to the ground and wipe my face. I take two seconds for myself then turn to him. I cover up with a chuckle, "I said... y-your beard."

Sandor immediately rubs his beard.

I chuckle louder, trying to convince myself that I actually found it funny, "you have crumbs on your beard."

Sandor looks at me like I grew another head.

I laugh enough that I actually start laughing at myself.

When I stop, the silence is loud.

Sandor clears his throat and cautiously asks, "you find that funny?"

My stomach drops when I see the red tinge of his ears. I walk up to his side and shake my head, "wait, no- I- I didn't mean it like that."

Sandor shakes his head and offers me a quick and small smile, "it's fine. I just wasn't expecting that from you," he looks back to his desk, "anyway, I'm used to it."

I feel like my entrails were being grinded.

A line forms in his brows, "I don't think I've ever heard you laugh before."

"I wasn't laughing at you!" I whimper under my breath. The air in my lungs begin to catch in my throat as I exhale, "I was just- I ju-"

Sandor turns to me, face slipping when he catches my teary eyes.

He stands and takes my shoulders.

I blink my tears away and smile in an attempt to calm myself. I am glad I do not shed a tear. I speak through a loud breath, "I'm just nervous when I'm around you!"

Sandor immediately releases me. He sighs through his nostrils, "scared, you mean."

I shake my head and take his shoulders, "nervous."

The Hound seizes up like there was a knife to his neck. I take a moment to look at him and pull back.

I cannot deny it hurt when he immediately steps away from me.

I really should have left at this point, but my mouth had a mind of its own. I furrow my brows and give him an earnest look, "I can trim your beard for you."

He steps back one last time, then looks at me as if I now had three heads.

I realize my mistake, "if-if you want me to. I'm not saying you should, I'm just offering to-"

"You want to do that for me?"

I turn to stone. I look around nervously, "mmm... o-only if you'd have it... ... my lord."

Sandor's face twitches. He sighs and slumps forward. He furrows his brows, "you'd be staring at my face the whole time."

I watch him as he rummages through his things.

My stomach rolls again and I step back, "ah... I see."

Sandor stops to look at me.

"If you do not feel comfortable, I will not..."

My words run dry when he pulls out shears. I watch him as he straightens up. He grips the tool in his hand, "it's you I'm worried about."

I look up at him, not knowing what to say.

"I don't mean to scare yo-"

"I'm not scared of you," I mutter.

Sandor stares at me. After a moment, he slowly takes my hand and hands me the shears, "maybe you should be."

My chest pounds at fleeting touch.

I cut his beard in the garden, as I didn't want to make a mess in his office.

He sits on the bench there.

The breeze blows at both our hair.

"You needn't touch me so gently, girl," he says, "it will take a lot of you to hurt me."

I do not change the manner in which I touch his cheek. I can feel Sandor looking at me, but I do not avert my attention away from his beard, "just because you do not hurt easily doesn't mean I cannot be gentle with you, Hound."

The Hound reaches out to my thighs when my foot rolls on a rock. I barely even fidget, but, still, he holds me in place to keep me from a potential fall. He does not release me. I gulp when I feel his thumb rub my skirt.

"You can hurt me if you like," he says.

I pull back and furrow my brows, "would you like that?"

He grinds his lower lip in his teeth. He debates for a moment and I decide to snip his mustache. I shush him when he tries to speak. He purses his lips tightly.

A moment passes with just the sound of cutting.

"I wouldn't want to cut your lips off," I shift in front of him, still ever so aware of his touch of my thighs, "you still need them to kiss."

I pull away to check if his mustache was straight. I notice his expression, dumbfounded, and continue snipping. I sigh, "that was a jest."

I pull away and again and move to the other side. Sandor still keeps his hands on me. He looks at me as I gently move his head.

I add, "I'm quite funny actually."

He chuckles lowly.

It makes my heart flutter.

He smiles, "oh, I don't doubt it, little girl."

I flatten my lips into a line, unsure if he was serious or not. I trim the hair by his jaw.

"You must like kissing then."

I freeze in my spot. I stop what I was doing, then continue, "what do you mean?"

He pulls his hands away. I watch him link them together and rest them on his lap. He shrugs, "you thought of kissing."

"Do you like kissing?"

I place a hand on my hip. He turns to me and shrugs again, "s'fine."

I furrow my brows and mimic his shrug, "well, you've never kissed me, so I wouldn't really know, would I?"

"You've never kissed a man before?"

"No," I impatiently respond, "I've kissed you, but you did not kiss me back," I take a few last cuts off his beard, "on our wedding day, remember?"

I see Sandor's look of disbelief when I finish and brush him off. Specks of hair fly off with the wind.

"You never kissed a little lord in secret as a little girl?"

"Only a big lord," I make a face, "as according to you I still am a little girl."

He stands from where he sat and peers down at me.

I purse my lips and cross my arms. I shrug, "point taken."

His brown eyes glimmer with confusion. I find myself raising my brows. Just as he is about to speak-

"MILORD, MILADY!"

We turn to the three young men walking over to us. I recognize them as Sandor's training apprentices. They push each other as I turn and smile at them.

"Good morn', lady!" Harry says, bowing exaggeratedly at me, "your dress is very rambunctious."

I furrow my brows at his words and find myself chuckling, "uhhh, thank you?"

Sandor raises his brows and curls his lips.

Daniel slaps Harry behind the head, "YOU MUG, D'YA KNOW WHAT YOU SAID, EVEN?"

Harry hisses and shoves Daniel, "DON'T HIT ME!"

Daniel gets shoved again when he incidentally elbows Richard, "OI, WATCH IT!"

The boys begin to quarrel. 

I step back before they can accidentally hit me, in turn, knocking my back into Sandor's.

"Enough!" the Hound barks, making the three brothers, or at least they acted like that, stop and turn to him.

My eyes widen at the sound of the Hound telling the boys off. I watch each of them tense as their Lord Clegane goes on a whole speech about biting off more than they can chew, and that, "if you lot want to act all tough around me, know I'll knock all three of your egg-heads with my hands tied."

I turn to the Hound, "Sandor."

He lets out a deep breath then eyes the three before him, "fuck off."

The boys immediately scram.

I bend over and grip my hips as I catch my breath. Lucy laughs at me as she beckons the puppies over with a stick. They come running over then she throws the stick for them to chase.

I huff, "these pups will be the death of me."

Lucy snorts, "and here I thought you wanted children."

I glare at her as the three small dark furred creatures begin to chase her around the garden as she runs. I call out in offence, "I do!"

Lucy runs over to me, "well, don't you know babes are far worse that this!" 

She giggles when she grabs my shoulders and uses me as a shield for the dogs. Though I was still winded, I laugh with her as the puppies prance around me. I grab Lucy's arm and begin to wrangle with her, "at least my babes will learn to speak. These pups know no sense!"

Lucy pushes me forward, encouraging me, "no, no, go on, s'your time to run, milady!"

I whine, "I really can't, Lucy."

"Oh, come on, lovie, you used to be full of energy! You're actin' as old as maester Yannick."

I hold back a laugh and shoot Lucy a look.

She shoots one back, "what? Did I lie?"

"Girls."

Lucy and I stop and turn to whom spoke. Sandor looks at us the way he always did, scrutinizing and serious.

I straighten up and nod in regard, "my lord."

Sandor sighs and looks away with annoyance. Wind blows his hair, adding effect to his expression. He looks down when the puppies begin to run towards him. They stand on their hind legs, pant, and bark. I swear I saw his exterior break into fondness.

But then he looks at me and it's all gone, "this came for you." He holds out a letter to me between his fingers, "I don't recognize the house sigil."

I walk up to him, smoothening my skirt out, then take the letter. I look at the wax seal for only a second then open the letter.

Sandor watches me raise my brows. He chuckles.

Lucy watches Sandor smile softly before purposefully frowning.

I look up at my husband, "it's from house Alistair."

Sandor's face scrunches up, "never heard of it."

I huff and delay my response to stop the puppies from chewing at the Hound's trousers. Sandor watches as I do this and gently shakes the puppies away. He takes my arm, preventing me from bending down, "I don't mind. They're just pups."

I give him a look, "if I don't stop them now when they're tiny, nothing will stop them when they're big."

Sandor watches as I sternly tell off the puppies and shoo them away. He chuckles at it, but then freezes when Lucy chuckles as well. The two make eye contact. Sandor doesn't have time to react.

"Cedric."

He turns to me, face contorting, "what?"

The puppies run off and Lucy runs along with them. I continue to explain, "Cedric is from House Alistair. You know, the lord that gave us a place to stay. You called him pretty bo-"

"I remember the fucker," he snaps.

I tense.

The Hound's nostrils flare, "what does he want?"

Suddenly, the letter in my hand feels heavy. I shrug, "he's invited us to his nameday celebration."

Sandor scoffs, "you mean he's invited you."

I release a frustrated huff when he begins to walk away. I follow after him and open the letter. I clear my throat and read aloud, "Fair greetings to Brown Wood, the home of House Clegane. May this letter find you in good spirits and health."

Sandor rolls his eyes as he walks back inside. He makes no haste, but I do, in order to keep up with him. I continue, "Seven days from now, I, Cedric Alistair, will be celebrating my--"

"I don't fucking care, little girl," he stops in his tracks and turns to me.

I nearly collide with him, but I gladly don't. I purse my lips and continue anyway, skipping to the part that holds my point, "if the Lord and Lady Clegane be so courteous in taking time out of their day to attend my feast, I would gladly-"

"Do you want to go, squirrel?"

I look up at him, blinking at the sight of his stern expression. I have to say, the omission of the word pretty for his petname made it feel... wrong. I clutch the letter by my belly, "he hosted us, me, Lucy... Daisy, even you, when we had nowhere to go. I think it only proper to attend his nameday to show appreciation and respect."

Sandor's eye twitches. He looks away and sighs.

I chew my lower lip, "he was kind to us, Sandor. I only mean to-"

"Fine," he cuts me off, "but if he touches you," he walks off, "I'm going to kill him."

His statement make my stomach churn. I cannot for the life of me understand what the intent of his words are. I chase after him again, "what if he asks me to dance with him?"

Sandor chuckles dryly, "a fine reason to chop him up."

He stops when I grab his arm. He looks at my hand on his bicep then gives me a look as I say, "you cannot kill him."

Sandor places his hand atop mine, "then don't fucking dance with him."

He squeezes my hand but it is not rough at all. It's gentle and extremely warm. He doesn't even try to pry my grip off, in fact, it's like he was tightening it on hm. My lips part and my body begins to burn.

I then realize when he was close enough for me to feel his breathing that he had been leaning in. I catch the way his eyes dart down to my mouth. I find myself slowly pressing my lips together.

I close my eyes when Sandor comes close to my cheek. I swear I felt my heart leap into my mouth when he pressed his face against mine.

He draws in a deep breath then sighs, "have you ever seen a hound share?"

The silence between us is deafening.

"Hmm?" he hums.

I open my mouth but nothing but mindless sounds leave me.

"I don't even think your pups do that."

My breath catches in my throat when he I feel his beard and his lips press gently against the crook of my neck.

Then the next moment, he releases me and pulls away like nothing happened.

We stare at each other for the longest second of my life. I feel like I'm on fire. What's worse is that I don't think he realizes just how affected I am, or actually... maybe it was good he couldn't tell I was dying inside.

"Still," he nods, "a dog is a dog and I will do as my master commands."

I feel light headed when he walks away.

I clutch my belly and walk to the nearest surface for support. I rub my neck, wondering if that really just happened.

[doexoeyes]

Of Finches & Firsts

In case you wanna read ahead:

Archive Of Our own link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26707513

Wattpad link:

https://my.w.tt/ZoUHpu1e59

Summary: “A Hufflepuff? Crushing on a Slytherin? Sounds like the start of a terrible joke to me, but ok.” You’ve harbored feelings for Draco Malfoy since your first year at Hogwarts. Secretly, of course, and very much from afar. But when you’re finally taken out of your role of being a background character in his life, will it be what you always wanted, or what you wish you never knew?

Chapters

Chapter 1 ♡ Chapter 2 ♡ Chapter 3  ♡ Chapter 4 ♡ Chapter 5

Chapter 4: Dirty Pants

Your latest run in with Malfoy had consumed your head for the majority of that week, even, unfortunately, during the tournament.

You were, of course, over the moon at Cedric’s success at capturing the golden dragon egg (Harry’s too, however you would keep that to yourself for the time being until the tension between him and your house blew over), but you just couldn’t shake off the feeling of having had Draco be so close and how he decided to take something of your’s for himself.

It sent you through an overwhelming spiral of thoughts and confusion and you so desperately wanted a friend to talk to, but you knew that Mauve and the others would immediately disapprove.

Anything Draco did was a red flag to them.

Still, that did lead to your most important question; why did Draco do what he did? He couldn’t seriously have had any real interest in your ribbon. It just all seemed like he was...toying with you, but if so, why would he waste his time toying with you in the first place ?

All of these questions received no answers for days until you had finally deemed your endless hours anxiously dwelling on it enough and decided to find your own answers.

Thinking back to the first day you had interacted with Draco, you grabbed your sketch book and pencil pouch and headed to the astronomy tower after dinner, waiting to see if you would run into the Malfoy boy.

Thankfully the universe seemed to be in your favor, because you did.

“Finch,” he greeted upon seeing you, his infamous smirk on its proper place. “Been running into each other more lately. I think you’ve become a bit obsessed,” he teased as he made his way towards you with slow steps.

You clutched your sketchbook to your chest, silently pretending it was a shield of sorts to encourage you to hang onto what little courage you had.

You then took a breath and began.

“We need to talk,” you stated cautiously, not knowing how this would turn out. “I need you to be honest with me.”

Draco frowned, clearly not a fan of your words. “Talk? About what?”

“About what happened a couple days ago. About the umm...” you weren’t sure why, but the words you were looking for escaped you so you chose to point to the top of your head where your hair was done up in a ponytail once more.

Draco stared at you, confused, before giving out a scoff, eyes twinkling in amusement. “Oh, your ribbon? Why, want it back? Has no one taught you about sharing, Finch?” and you clutched your book tighter as he once again placed himself inches away from you.

He really wasn’t a fan of personal space, it seemed.

“Why would I have to share my ribbon with you?” you questioned, feeling silly and small in his presence.

“Because I wanted it. Simple as that,” he answered, eyes looking at you as if to challenge him in saying something else about the subject.

You had no plan to do so.

“Ok...” you said, disappointed that that was all he had to say on the matter.

This was definitely not going according to your plan. Then again, you weren’t even sure you had one in the first place.

His eyes then flickered to the sketchbook you were holding to your chest. “What’s that you’re always bringing up here with you?” he asked nosily and your cheeks immediately flushed.

“It’s, umm...it’s a sketchbook. I like to draw in my free time.”

“Oh really? Well then you’re going to have to share that with me,” he said, moving as if to grab the book but you immediately stepped back, shaking your head with wide eyes.

“Oh no, absolutely not,” you blurted out, taking Draco aback at your sudden outburst.

He frowned once again. “And why not?” A ghost of realization then hit his face and he smirked knowingly. “Oh, I get it. It’s filled with drawings of me. Am I your muse, Finch?” he taunted, lifting his brows.

You unfortunately couldn’t control a small laugh from escaping, nerves setting in as you knew now that you had to explain. “No, actually, I’m...quite terrible at drawing and I’m terrified of you looking at them because...well, they’re really bad,” you confessed, and placed a hand over your mouth to contain the rest of your nervous giggling.

Draco eyes you now like you were completely mad.

“So, you’re telling me you spend your time doing something you’re horrible at?”

You bit your bottom lip, trying to figure out a way to explain it to him best. “Well, yes. Have you never done something not because you’re good at it or you have to, but simply because you enjoy it?” you asked, and the very blonde boy remained starring at you oddly.

“No, actually, that sounds bloody ridiculous and like a terrible waste of time.”

You subconsciously pushed your bottom lip out, your expression resembling a small pout, as you stood there awkwardly, eyes avoiding his. Feeling the weight of the book on your chest, you looked at it for a moment before handing it towards him, wondering what was possessing you to do so.

He looked at your offering with furrowed brows, eyes asking you the same question.

“Just pass through it. No point in not letting you see it now that you know that I’m awful at it. You might find some amusement in it. Just, please, be prepared. I wasn’t being hard on myself, I really am crap at drawing.”

He snatched the book from your hand then, an action you thought was a bit too dramatic, and opened the book, eyes analyzing every page as he flipped through it.

You stood there, watching him pass through the book as you chewed on your bottom lip nervously. You were never usually this bold, letting someone (especially someone like Draco Malfoy) go through your sketchbook knowing very well how terrible your sketches were. Yet, you felt that the only way the tension between you two would dissipate was to be honest and open with him, like how you wanted him to be with you. Maybe then he’ll tell you the real reason why he took your ribbon...

How silly of you to still be hung up on such a little thing.

“Wow, you weren’t wrong. You really are shit at drawing,” he commented midway through his flipping.

You blushed, embarrassed, but also found his blunt honesty amusing, and couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. “I know. It’s a good thing art isn’t part of our curriculum. I would absolutely fail, without a doubt,” and you felt your chest swell up at hearing him laugh along with you.

“Honestly,” he said, handing the book back to you once he finished. “You know, you’re very strange.”

“And you’re very judgmental,” you quickly threw back, causing Draco’s eyes to widen slightly, not expecting your response.

You raise a brow at him, lips forming into a soft smile. “You only think I’m strange because you don’t understand what I’m talking about,” you elaborated before leaning down to sit on the floor.

You patted the spot next to you, looking up at Draco as you did so, but the boy shook his head with a frown.

“Are you mad? I’m not sitting on the floor. I’ll get my pants all dirty,” he said in disgust.

You playfully rolled her eyes, looking up at him from your lashes. “They won’t be, but if they are, I promise I will clean them for you. Just...please sit with me?” you asked, eyes silently pleading with him.

He stood there stubbornly, arms crossed against his chest and you were sadly made aware of what his answer would be. Just as you were about to tell him to forget about it, however, he sat himself on the floor next to you with a huff.

“There. I’m sitting. Now what?” he asked begrudgingly and you had to keep yourself from grinning.

You opened up your sketchbook to an empty page before handing it over to him, along with a pencil. “Take this and just...go with the flow,” you instructed.

He looks at you like you told him the most insane thing possible.

“You want me to sit here and draw?” he questions in disbelief.

“Mhm,” you said, smiling sheepishly at him. “Just one drawing. It could be of anything you want. A bird. A flower. Even a stick person. I just want you try it out for yourself.”

“I’ve drawn before, you do know that right?” he scoffed, finding the task you had assigned him to be entirely ridiculous.

“Doodling while taking notes in class doesn’t count,” you pointed out.

With a heavy sigh and a roll of his eyes, Draco took the book and pencil from your hands and began to do as he was requested.

It was a funny sight, you admitted to yourself, seeing the boy draw with a frown etched on his face. He looked very unamused at first, but as he continued moving his pencil throughout the page, the frown on his face softened and a more concentrated look falls on his features. You smiled softly to yourself, trying to keep your eyes away from the page he was working on, wanting to see it only when he finished.

After a couple of minutes, Draco cleared his throat and handed the book back to you.

“Personally, I don’t think I did too bad,” he admitted, eyes on the page you were now able to see.

A snake graced the middle of the once empty page and you were surprised to find that it was a very well drawn one. Lips slightly parted in surprise, you noticed he had even shaded in the scales.

“Don’t think you did too bad?” you repeated, eyes taking in the details he was able to add from memory.

Draco immediately frowned once again, taking your tone the wrong way. “Well it’s at least loads better than your pitiful attempts,” he spat out.

At that, you immediately looked up at him, shaking your head. “No, I mean that in a good way. As in you did way better than just ‘not too bad’. You actually did a wonderful job,” you admitted sincerely.

You were aware of Draco’s infamous temper. The way he’d snap at the drop of a pin, especially if it was dropped in a way he didn’t like, had him labeled as a simple hot head by others. And although that could be true, you understood why he reacted in such a way; he was taught his whole life that people could be cruel, so he needed to be cruel first.

You knew all about the Malfoy family, namely Draco’s father, Lucius. You remember the day you went back home after your first year at Hogwarts, how you gushed to your father about your new school and your new friends and the new boy you really wanted to befriend.

You father had recognized the name ‘Malfoy’ immediately, and frowned as he looked at you in concern.

“You have to be careful with that boy. I can’t judge him, because I’ve never met him personally, but if he’s anything like his father, then he’s not someone you want to surround yourself with.”

You were snapped back to reality when Draco spoke once again.

“Really? That good?” he asked, looking his drawing over.

You nodded. “Yes. I guess you found something you’re naturally talented at.”

He looks up at you, expression unreadable. You feel your face warm up at the sudden intimacy you felt, realizing how close he sat next to you and how you could notice the different shades of gray in his eyes.

Clearing your throat, noticing how flustered you were becoming, you closed your sketchbook and put your pencil away. The sound of the pouch zipping fills the silence and you feel even more awkward until Draco finally speaks up.

“Are you going to go on the trip to Hogsmeade tomorrow?” he asked, causing you to turn your attention back to him.

“Oh, umm...yeah. I am,” you answered, attempting to play it cool despite your still blushing self.

“Perfect. You’ll join me then,” he said, standing up and dusting his pants off. Your eyes widened but Draco didn’t acknowledge it, simply stating “I’ll see you tomorrow, Finch,” before exiting the tower.

You remained staring at the spot Draco had been, processing the entirety of your latest exchange, feeling your heart race a little at the realization that he had just formally asked (well, demanded) to hangout tomorrow.

.....

What in Merlin’s beard just happened?

♡

Tag list: @sadgirlnumber92899​​, @yea-that-potato, @avellanas-nutty-empire

[kiirokero]

My Hope (JHS)

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Angst, Lil bit of Fluff, Mutual Pining, (old?)Best Friends to lovers

Word Count: 2,870

Summary:  You were only trying to forget the love you knew you could never have, but now you were trapped in a hell. You’ve had enough and you find yourself at the doorstep of the one who you truly loved, soaking wet and broken.

Warnings: Mentions of a domestic abusive relationship, verbal, emotional, light physical abuse (bruising), manipulation, gaslighting (kinda?), yelling, degradation (and not the smexy kind), light panicking, abusive isolation, just a lot of horrible shit. 

Note: PLEASE don’t read if the warning topics are triggering for you.

     Cold. That's all I could feel right now. My hands like icicles as the unforgiving frost of the city bit at the tips of my ears and nose. Was I really doing the right thing? My legs aching as I continued my journey to the only place I could turn to. He said he'd change. He always said that. Every time. Maybe this time will be different. How many times has it been? 5? 10? I've lost count, but I was stuck.

     1... 2... 3... I counted my steps to keep my mind off of the situation that plagued it. It was his fault, right? It wasn't mine? Would he have acted like that if it was anybody else? He's always been jealous. Insecure. Reassurance a constant sound coming from my vocal cords, only because I didn’t want to do the alternative. 

     18... 19... 20... Am I walking too slow? I should be there by now. Am I lost? Will I succumb to the cold in an alleyway all by myself? My feet like the stone statues that stood in the middle of the city. Their empty stares the only thing to keep me company. The patter of rain the only music filling my ears. Lonely. I was always so lonely. Even when the arms of the person I falsely gave my heart to were wrapped around my ever dying body.

     50... 51... 52... What happened to me? I used to be so happy. My smile a genuine painting on my face rather than a mask constantly in my hand. I used to have friends, family; I used to have him...A piece of me was taken away with every hateful word spat at me. I was no better than the cold stone men. The fire in my soul reduced to a pathetic ember. My glowing skin diminished into scratchy leather. My will to keep going now nothing more than a scrap of paper. Burnt. Torn. Crumpled.

     87... 88... 89... I had to do it. I couldn't take it anymore. My life had been ripped away from me. He trapped me in a hellscape with false promises of love. Lured me in with a chance to forget. To forget about him. Happiness... I wanted it back. I want my friends back. I wanted my family back. My hobbies, my freedom, him.

I wanted Hoseok back.

     "Who was that?" My boyfriend, Hajoon, snapped as I closed the door. "The new neighbor..." I faltered. Hajoon just scoffed and stood up. Walking towards me as my heart rate spiked. Not again. "Oh really? And what did he want?" He taunted, annoyance written all over his face. "H-he just wanted to introduce himself..." I stuttered. "Why are you stuttering? I swear you'd never survive without me. You're so pathetic." He huffed as he harshly grabbed my chin, making me look at him. "Don't talk to him again, got it?" I nodded and he let go. "You love me and you'd never leave me. Right Y/N?" He questioned. "Right... I'd never leave you..."

     "Hobi! How's the tour going!" I exclaimed, happy to get a call from my best friend. "Y/N! It's going well! It's been a blast performing and meeting Army's." He chirped. Hajoon was out, meaning that I could talk to Hoseok without worry. Hajoon never liked Hoseok. Whenever I would mention my beloved best friend, he would get angry. He would yell and me tell me I shouldn't talk to him. I didn't listen though, Hoseok has been with me through everything. I could never drop him. Never. "Why haven't you been visiting more, Y/N? We miss you!" Hoseok asked, a hint of sadness laced in his voice. "Ah, I would but... Hajoon doesn't like when I go out without him..." I hesitated. "Y/n... Hajoon doesn't own you. You can do things without his approval. You're an adult, okay?" Hoseok stated. "I know, but..." I froze as I heard the door open.

     "I-I gotta go, I'll talk to you when I can..." I panicked, hanging up the phone before Hoseok could say anything. "Y/n? Who are you talking to?" Hajoon called out. "M-my mom!" I called back, tears stinging my eyes but I refused to let them fall. "She just wanted to check up on me..." I quickly deleted my call history, leaving a call from my mom earlier today at the top. I knew that if Hajoon didn't believe me, he'd look at my call history. The last time I lied about who I was talking to, he yelled at me for hours. Hajoon walked into our shared bedroom staring coldly at me. "What did you guys talk about?" He asked. "She was just asking how my life is... telling me how they are..." I mumbled. "What did you say?" He commanded me to tell him. "I- I said I was fine..." Hajoon nodded, satisfied, and laid down on the bed, beckoning me into his arms.

     I complied, curling up next to him, my head in his chest. He knew what he was doing was wrong. He knew how he was treating me was wrong. He feared getting caught. Scared I'd run away. Slipping from his grasp. He was insecure. He needed someone to control in order to feel that he had power. Why did it have to be me? "I love you." He mumbled. I hesitated, not wanting to say those sacred words, but my mind when back to what happened every time I didn't say it back. 'I give you everything, yet you're so ungrateful?' 'You just take and take, don't you?' 'You'd have nothing without me!' 'You need me.'

"I- I love you too..."

     "Where the hell we're you?!" I winced at the sound of my yelling boyfriend. "I was out with friends... I told you last night that they wanted to go see a movie with me..." I mumbled. Fear and anxiety already coursing through my body. "And I thought I told you that I didn't want you to go?!" He screamed. Hoseok's words ran through my mind 'You're an adult'. That's the only reason I could pick myself up and go out. "I..." I stumbled out, "I'm an adult... I can make my own decisions..." The room was silent. I looked up to see Hajoon looking at me with an unreadable expression.

     "Oh, really?" He said in a monotone manner, scaring me even more. He wasn't yelling anymore, but I could tell he was mad, he was really mad. He started stepping towards me, causing me to back up, hitting my back against the empty living room wall. "Really?" He said again, this time in a more spiteful tone. He harshly grabbed my wrist, squeezing it tight. I cried out at the sudden pain. "You're an adult? You don't act like it. You're like a child leeching off of me, ungratefully taking everything from me, yet you want to say you're an adult?!" My eyes were watering and my heart rammed against my ribcage, I could hear the sound in my ears. "You made me quit my job... So I wouldn't have my own money..." I whispered. But he heard it, and he squeezed my wrist even tighter. "I do this because I love you." He stated. But I've had it, I've had enough. "No! No, you don't! You don't love me! This isn't love!"

     I struggled in his grip, managing to get free as I bolted for the door. I had to get out of there. I burst the door open and ran down the street. Ignoring the yells that came from behind me. I just kept running and running. Rain roughly hitting my face, mixing with the salty tears slipping from my eyes.

     I looked down at my bruising wrist, the sight not new to me. The bruise was like a bracelet to me now. An accessory I would wear to remind me I made him mad, and he went too far. I curled my knees against my chest, cold and wet, shivering in front of my best friend's door. I took my phone out of my pocket. 9 pm. When I got home it was 7, was I really running for that long?

     Hoseok's place was a 30-minute drive from mine, but walking/running was a different story. The twists and turns of the city streets adding on extra time to my commute. I didn't want to call him. It was Sunday night. Every Sunday night, Hoseok would go to BigHit's dance studio and practice more by himself, starting at 6 and ending at 8. Then the long drive back home. That was his Sunday routine. I didn't want to bother him. His dancing was important to him, and he loved it. I didn't want to ruin his night by interrupting him. I didn't want to be a bother.

     Irrational fears ran through my head, torturing me. Did I have any right to be here? Would he be mad at me? Why would he be mad at me? Please don't be mad at me. I can't handle it. I can't handle the yelling, the screaming. I can't handle the hate, the fake love. I couldn't handle being trapped. A dying bird in a rusty cage. I wanted freedom, craved it. Tonight, I finally got it. Now I just needed the warm, comforting arms and the smooth voice of my best friend to tell me everything is going to be okay.

     "Y-Y/n?" I looked up at the sound of my name and saw a worried-looking Hoseok, still dressed in workout clothes and a duffle bag in hand. As soon as I saw his face, tears spilled out of my eyes, "Hobi?" I hiccuped. He wasted no time rushing to me, kneeling in front of me, holding me close. "Y/n, you're soaking wet! What happened?" I couldn't answer him as I choked out tears. Hoseok could tell I was too hysterical to give him an answer, so he picked me up and walked inside his apartment.

     "Hey, hey, it's okay. I need you to calm down, Y/n. Can you do that for me?" Hoseok comforted me as brought me to the bathroom and sat me on the side of the tub. I nodded my head and Hoseok ran me through a breathing exercise. It didn’t calm me down entirely, but at least I could speak now. Hoseok kneeled in front of me and held one of my hands as the other one worked on wiping my tears away. "I'm sorry..." I whispered. "No, Y/n, I don't what to hear any of that. You have nothing to be sorry for." Hoseok stated, "But, what happened?"

     "Hajoon... Hajoon happened." I said, his name like tar in my mouth. Hoseok's face contorted in disgust. "I knew it..." He whispered to himself. I could see the mental battle he was having in his head plastered on his face. It read guilt and regret. He stood up and walked out of the bathroom. He soon returned with a black hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, handing them to me. "Go ahead and change, I don't want my sunshine to get sick." My heart skipped a beat at the old nickname he always used for me.

     Sunshine. He's been calling me that since forever. But when I got in a relationship with Hajoon, he stopped out of respect, since sunshine sounded so loving to Hajoon. I forgot just how much I missed it. Hajoon was never that loving to me, Hoseok treated me better than him from the start. Loving Hoseok scared me. He had a dream. He was a star and I was a nobody compared to him. I was scared I wasn't good enough for him. So when the puppy love between me and Hajoon started, I took it as an opportunity to keep me from impeding Hoseok and his dream. But it backfired, it backfired so badly.

     I stepped out of the bathroom, walking to the living room that seemed like a distant memory now. I remembered when I would practically spend days straight at Hoseok's house, even if he had work, it was my second home until Hajoon ripped that away from me. He told me that it was unfaithful to spend so much time at Hoseok’s, and not wanting to hurt his feelings, I listened to him. I was so stupid. Hoseok walked out the kitchen, dressed in lounge clothes, leftover takeout in hand as he motioned for me to sit down. I complied silently. We said nothing to each other, but we didn't have to. We didn't need to fill the silence with conversation just yet. We just needed each other.

     Hoseok set the food down on the table in front of us and sat down, grabbing pieces of food with a pair of chopsticks and feeding me. The loving gesture almost made me sob. After he deemed I was fed well, he wrapped his arms securely around me, holding me tight. Afraid that if he were to let go, someone would take me away from him again. "You can talk when you're ready." He whispered to me, petting my hair lovingly. I did just that. I talked and talked. Going on and on about how Hajoon would treat me, how he would yell and scream, how he would lash out than apologize afterward, promising to change. I told him how he didn't like me hanging out with my friends or visiting family. If I went out, he had to go with me. If I was on the phone, he had to know who was on the other side. If he told me he loved me, I had to say it back, or things wouldn't be pretty. "How long has this been going on?" Hoseok asked. "A couple months after we got together... It started out small, but then it spiraled. Before I knew it, I was trapped in a loveless relationship, too scared to run." I shivered as I sunk into Hoseok's arms even more.

"I'm so sorry, I should've been there," Hoseok whispered.

"It's okay Hobi, just... hold me."

"Why didn't you call me? You shouldn't have walked all the way over here."

"I knew you were practicing."

"Y/n," He breathed, "I'd drop anything for you."

"I know how important your job is to you Hobi..."

"You're more important."

     Silence engulfed us again, Hoseok gently rocking me back and forth. Loving Hoseok was scary, but I wouldn't hold myself back anymore. I wouldn't dance around the issue. I couldn't deny what my heart wanted and what it wanted all along. Last time I did, Hajoon reduced me to a scrap of myself. 

      Hajoon would hug me, but they weren’t like Hoseok’s. Hajoon would hold me, but it wasn’t like Hoseok. Hajoon said he loved me, but he wasn’t Hoseok. He was never Hoseok. He could never be Hoseok. 

"I didn't love him." I sniffled. "I never did. He wasn't the person I wanted, Hobi."

"Who did you want...?" Hoseok hesitated.

"I wanted my hope..." I choked out, tears threatening to fall again.

      Hoseok held me tighter. A stray tear fell on the top of my head, telling me he needed to hear that. That single tear told me so much. He regretted not being there for me through this. He felt like it was his fault. If only he knew, things would be different. If only he told me he loved me, this would've never happened.

"Why didn't you come to me sooner?" Hoseok croaked out, sniffling.

"I was just scared of what he would to do me..." I winced.

"Did he hurt you?" Hoseok asked.

I stayed silent. He pulled away to look me in the eye, his own tears glistening under the light.

"Sunshine. Did he hurt you?" He pressed.

I couldn't resist him whenever he called me that, so I just silently nodded.

"Where?"

     I showed him my wrist. The purple splotches wrapping around it reminding me of the invisible handcuffs Hajoon had me in for so long. "He's disgusting..." He scoffed, gently taking my wrist in his hands, examining the deep bruises. I unconsciously flinched, earning a look of sadness from Hoseok, more tears falling from his face. "Was this the first time?" I shook my head, causing Hoseok to take a deep breath. "Tomorrow, we'll go get your things and bring them here. I'll deal with him." I looked up at the man in front of me. Instead of his somber look, his face showed a mad one. Hoseok was always scary when mad. The aura that radiated off of him was a threatening one. "I don't want to go back there, Hobi..." I mumbled. Hoseok slowly put a hand on my cheek and stroked my cheekbone with his thumb. His moves were slow and gentle, not wanting to scare me. "Don't worry, he won't be there when we go."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"He'll be rotting in a cell."

"...Jail?"

"He committed a crime, Y/n," He stated.

"...Thank you Hobi. I missed you..."

"I missed you too, sunshine. I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you..."

"I love you..." I squeezed him tighter.

"I love you too, sunshine."

[jjmaybanksblog]

Stress Release- John B

(Not my gif, credit for whoever created it!)

Summary: Friends with benefits; Two friends who trust each other enough to engage in sexual activity without fear of hurting the other's feelings.

Word count: 1,912

Warnings: Mentions fwb, sex, and underage drinking.

You rested on your stomach, textbook in front of you as John B joined your side. You two had been chosen to be partners for a Chemistry class project, but neither of you two had actually paid enough attention to figure out what you two we're doing.

You guys sat in silence for a minute before you exhaled loudly. "What's with the sigh?" You ground loudly, flipping yourself over and laying on your back.

"It's my senior year. I should be out in the world not giving a single fuck about anything, but I'm stressed out of my mind and I have no clue how to get rid of it." You ranted, grabbing the nearest pillow and screaming into it. John B looked at you with a confused look. "What? I'm a screamer. Not sexually, just at life in general." "I can make that sexually." He said, earning a smack from the pillow.

"Therapy?" "Tried." "Painting?" "Tried." "Going to the gym?" "Ha! You're fucking funny." John B remained quiet for a second before coming up with something. "Have you tried just hooking up with someone? You know, like a friends with benefits type thing." 

Your head snapped up from it's spot as you stared at the boy with a dumbfounded look. "I'm sorry?" "Well it's just, if you need to release tension, shit like that helps a lot." John B said as he suddenly felt idiotic for bringing the idea up. You sat there for a moment, trying to process his words. "Okay but even if I wanted to I don't know who would even want to." 

John B's index finger pointed to his face as you observed his gesture. "Really?and why would you want to be friends with benefits?" "I get stressed too, I help you out, you help me out." You considered his offer for a moment before agreeing on his idea.

"Okay. But we have to make a guideline." You negotiated, ripping out a piece of paper from the notebook. Now it was John B's turn to roll his eyes. 

"First rule, we do not tell a single soul about this." You said, grabbing your pen and scribbling the words down. "Okay, okay. Second rule, we call each other whenever we need a release. Whenever and wherever." "No hooking up with anyone else unless either of us get

a boyfriend/girlfriend." He thought aloud.

You nodded your head, writing his words down quickly. "And the last one," you two looked at each other as you spoke in unison, "no feelings." You held the pen out towards him, giving you a questioning look. "What? We gotta make this shit official." 

John B let out a chuckle as he took the pen from your hand and scribbled his name. Returning the pen to you, he adjusted himself so he was resting against the headboard. You quickly signed it, closing the notebook shut.

John B sighed softly before looking at youm "You stressed?" You quickly rose up from your spot, your legs resting on both sides of him as you straddled his lap. "You have no idea." His hands trailed up your back, one hand staying on your thigh and gently rubbing it. The other was wrapped tightly around your waist.

Your lips met halfway, he sighed in relief at the feeling of someone else's lips. The kiss was fierce and rushed, both of you wasting no time in getting your stress out.

_________________

You guys had this 'relationship' going for the last 5 months. Almost every other day you called each other. It was an odd thing for you to do. You had done it before in the past, but sex with John B was something else. There were nights where the type would change, he would take control for most of the time. Angry sex, sex in the living room, car sex, anything he wanted to do, you two did.

However, as time went on the feelings John B had began to change. He wanted to spend more time with you, and not just hook up. He wanted to find out more things about you, watch movies with you, be able to kiss you in public whenever he wanted. The at first sloppy sex slowly morphed into passionate sex. He noticed and it scared him shitless. He loved every moment he spent with you and he didn't want that to change.

He was mad at himself. That was the third rule and he broke it. He never expected it to happen, but when it did it slapped him right across the face.

You two were lying there naked, sheets covering your bare chests. You were fast asleep, your body facing him. He took in the tiny details about you, everything that he could. How sometimes your eyelashes flutter. How you'll snore sometimes. How he rests his hand on your cheek and you unknowingly lean into his touch. He buried this hole too deep and he can't get out.

You both were currently at your friend Angela's party, drunk teens were horribly dancing in the living room, couples were hooking up in the bedrooms and bathrooms. John B was drinking a shot of vodka as he saw you walk by, a red plastic solo cup in your hand. "Hey Routledge!" You winked at the boy who shyly drank from his cup.

A classmate of his walked up to John B, "Hey, what's with you and that Y/L/N chick?" The boy asked, nudging John B's shoulders. He smirked at his classmate leaning closer to him, "we're friends with benefits!" John B exclaimed, clearly tipsy and not knowing the words that are spilling out of his mouth. 

The classmate smirked at the intoxicated teen, giving JB a high five, congratulating him. You were out in the backyard enjoying the night sky with Sarah Cameron.you two were laughing after watching someone run and fall into the pool.

The fun was quickly ruined as the classmate stood in front of you guys. "So Y/N, I heard you help release stress from my good old friend John B. How about you help me out?" Your face dropped in shock, the cup falling from your hand. "I'm sorry?" You asked, pretending not to understand what he was talking about.

"Oh yeah. But real shit, whenever I need something I'll give you a call." The boy sent you a wink before licking his lower lip and walking away. You stared at the ground in shock. "Are you okay?" "I don't know how to answer that." You admitted.

You stomped out of the backyard and out of the house. Stares, comments and giggles were all you noticed as you made your way through the crowded rooms. Making way to your car, you opened the door and slammed it shut. Your fists pounded down onto the steering wheel, accidentally punching the horn. You crossed your arms and leaned against the wheel. Your head fell against your arms as tears stung your eyes. You were furious at John B, but you were also angry with yourself. 

During the time you had been sleeping with John B, you also began to realize how your heart would race a mile a minute with him, even before the physical contact. You had been trying to deny the feelings, 'it's just sex' you repeated to yourself over and over after every session. But to you it was something else, and that scared you.

You sped down down the road, the lights blurring from the tears, your cheeks and nose a shade of pink. Your breathing was uneven as you hicupped every now and then. Returning home, you quickly changed out of your clothes into pajamas and laid in bed. That night was the last time you and John B had an interaction for a whole month.

He would call you, but you'd let the answering machine pick up. You'd swerve him when you walked by him in the halls, catching his eye then turning around to walk the other way. 

You wanted to distance yourself as much as you could. John B tried his best to apologize after his classmate reminded him that he told your secret that night at the party. He felt absolutely destroyed hearing the rumors that were spreading about you, about you both, he hated it.

Your eyes were sealed shut as you attempted to let sleep overtake your body. It was finally Friday and you just wanted to sleep for 12 hours. The sound of rain hitting your window sounded like heaven to your ears, just pure silence except for that one noise. 

A soft tapping sound echoed off the  window. Knowing it wasn't rain, you hesitantly opened your eyes to see John Booker Routledge holding himself as he stood in your backyard, in the pouring rain. His hair was plastered down onto his face. His clothes clung to his body. His eyes were squinted shut in hopes to not get too much water in them.

You quickly got up and pulled him through the window harshly, making him fall to the ground. His skin made a loud slapping noise as he made contact with the hardwood floor. You sighed, rubbing your forehead with the palm of your hand. "Hold on." You quickly went out of the room and walked back in with a towel. You handed it to him as you sat on the bad, John B standing there as he attempted to dry off.

"Look this isn't a guilt-trip. I just genuinely want to know if you dislike me so I can stop bothering you." He started, the towel running through his hair, drops of water flying everywhere. You sighed loudly and pitched the bridge of your nose. "I don't hate or dislike you. I hate that you spilled what we were to what's his face at the party. Do you know how many phone calls I've gotten of guys asking me to hook up with them? 24." 

"What we were?" John B asked softly. "You broke your promise, you can't come back from that." You huffed, your eyes not leaving the floor. "It was just a fling." He lied, not only to you but to himself. "Not to me it wasn't." Your voice was just above a whisper.

"What?" 

"Throughout the last few months things felt different. It was really fucking weird to think about, but my heart would always just... race when we spent time together. I wanted things to just be more than a fling. But I figured you just wanted it to be just that thing since you came up with the idea." you admitted. He lightly chuckled as he bent down to be face to face with you.

"Princess. I walked here to you in the rain. This is how much I love you. This," he pointed his finger between you two, "I want more than a fling. I want to be able to just walk around with you on my arm and just give you all the fucking affection I can give. And I'm sorry about the calls. I'll make sure people get the notice to-" you cut him off by quickly pressing your lips against his.

He exhaled loudly, your skin suddenly felt as if it were burning. "God I missed you." He mumbled against your lips as his thumb stroked your cheek. "Show me how much you missed me." You whispered, pulling the boy onto the bed.

[nlights37]

12, 18 and 20 please!

@aenarsnow gets FIRSTIES which means I answer with extra love, of course:)

Let’s GET IT

12.  How do you deal with self-doubts?

Well, I get ‘em a lot, just like everyone else, your standard, run-of-the-mill ‘”This is shit, why am I wasting my time on this, it’s crap, I’ve used the same adjective like 15 times now and also how many ways can I actually describe eyes I should be doing productive things instead of writing fanfic people are gonna hate it anyway, half the people that used to read my shit ghost me at this point ughhhhh this fandom suuuuuucccckkkkkkssss and so do I!!!”

Inevitably, at that point, I email whatever I’m working on to @noordinarylines, who has explicitly good taste, and who I KNOW will be honest with me if she doesn’t like something or doesn’t quite thinking something is working.

Then she reads it an emails me back and tells me I killed her in a good way and how dare I leave her hanging there, where is the rest, hurry the fuck up because it’s crazy mean to cliffhang her like that.

That usually gets my head right.  :)  There are a handful of people that I interact with that are some real, genuine, ride or die people (mostly because I am horrible at things like chatting regularly, etc - like I will genuinely completely fuck up my IRL day if I allow myself to get sucked into things like chats because I get tunnel vision and forget everything else, my full blown inattentive-type adult ADD in full effect).  But there are some real ones out here, and they know who they are, and if I think an idea is maybe worth a shot but I wanna bounce it off someone, or I want another set of eyes on something because I’ve stared at it so long I genuinely cannot tell if it’s any good, I reach out to them, and they set me straight.

Once I post something, tbh, I just let it ride, because it’s out there, and the people whose opinion I care about the most have already told me what they think, so I’m pretty satisfied with that.  If other people don’t like it they can suck my ass at that point, because I ain’t changing SHIT hahahahaha.

18.   What’s your revision or rewriting process like?

Well, here’s the thing about me.  I write it as it comes, and a lot of time I can feel when I’m writing it if it just isn’t fucking working.  I will backtrack then and there and start over.  For me, if I’m in the groove and it’s really rocking along I go with it.  There’s a flow to it, and then suddenly it’s been 5 hours and you’re like ‘IT’S GOLD, JERRY!  GOLD!”

If it’s like pulling teeth to write it I stop and come back to it later.  With a husband, three kids, ‘virtual learning’ and quarantine, my time to write is limited, so I try to make the most of it.  I run scenes for fics in my head a LOT, while I’m in the shower, or doing dishes, or folding clothes, so that by the time I get a chance to write I’ve made my mind up on exactly how it will go and I don’t have to sit there and look at a blinking cursor.

I don’t typically use a beta, not because I don’t think I need one (my frantic spotting of every damn mistake I made AFTER I post can attest to that) but more because once I’m done with something, I’m done, and I wanna post it.  I just get too excited to wait, you know, like a damn puppy who pees in excitement when someone knocks at the door.  I just wanna SHARE IT!

So, the tldr:  I do a lot of revision in my head before I sit down to write.  I don’t usually rewrite because the minute something stops flowing I scrap it :)

20.  Post a snippet of a WIP you’re working on.

Here’s a sneak peek of what @noordinarylines and I have been cooking up for the second story in the Remember the Time universe:

There was something soothing, Daenerys had found, about the line where the sea met the sky, the view afforded from her council chamber one that seemed the best suited for calming her ever-frazzled nerves.

It had been five days since she had taken her tumble on the far end of the island, five days full of the most piercing grief she’d ever experienced, which was truly remarkable.  Her losses, ‘til now, had been great and agonizing, but she could not shake the forlorn mood that had fallen over her since she’d found herself ripped away from what she was now classifying as a sweet, indulgent fantasy, borne of the trauma of her injury, nothing more.

And yet…

Tucked up the sleeve of her coat, always with her, was a rolled scrap of parchment, upon which she’d documented every single aspect of that lovely hallucination that she could remember.  She knew she ought to squirrel it away somewhere safer, hide it from view, leave it behind so she might stop dwelling on these imaginary losses, but she could not.

It had become a talisman, of sorts, something that gave her comfort, just the scrape of it against her skin when she moved her arm as she walked.

She would be mortified, of course, if it were discovered.  She was half-terrified it would slip free, and be found by another, her deepest longings read aloud.  But for now, it eased the walk from her chambers to whatever task lay ahead, and so she kept it.  “Your Grace?”

Daenerys turned from the wide, carved windows in her council chamber, to find Tyrion lingering, watching her with marked curiosity.

Quirking a brow, she did not answer, merely waited.  Her Hand came closer, his fingers trailing down the Riverlands on the painted table as he approached.  “Are you certain you are well?”

“I’m faring well, Tyrion.”  She managed a tight smile, coming to stand at the head of the table, her eyes travelling over the surface rather than meeting the scrutiny in his.  “A few lingering headaches, that’s all.”

“Hmmm.”  Tyrion took another drink, then plucked a carved piece from the table, turning it over in his hands.  When she peeked up, however, he was still staring at her.  “As you say.  Perhaps there is something else that troubles you?”

Dany smoothed her suddenly damp palms down the front of her coat, and kissed her teeth.  “I think we shall all rest easier once we receive word from Casterly Rock, that your plan has succeeded.”  It was enough to shift his focus, and there was a measure of truth in it; Missandei had been beside herself with worry over Grey Worm, and she reminded herself to ask her dear friend just what, precisely, had occurred between them.

Tyrion affected a confident air, and tucked away his wineskin, clasping his hands behind his pace and beginning to pace.  “Yes, a victory is just what we need right now.  And I have every confidence that we will prevail.”  He kept moving, rounding the table, stopping by the depiction of the Northern Kingdom and plucking the wolf from the surface.  His eyes met hers, and she froze.  “How are things with our openly-rebellious friend?  Have relations,” he paused, smirking, “thawed, perhaps, now that you have given him access to the mines?”

She wondered, at the keen tone of his voice, what it was he was truly asking beneath the rather mundane question.  In truth, she had been avoiding Jon Snow, these past few days, at least as much as she could.  The daytime hours were no issue; he was busy down in the mines, and she had seen several carts of the dragonglass he’d been so desperate for, so it seemed his search had been successful.

It was harder once the sun had departed, for they had taken to dining in the main hall, all of Dragonstone’s occupants, and though she tried desperately not to look at him, there were several times at every meal that she couldn’t quite resist.  One night, in particular, he’d been seated beside her, had asked in his low, rumbling voice if her wound pained her, had inquired with a gentleness that had broken her heart anew.

When she’d told him she was well, and not to worry, that she had survived far worse, he had frowned fiercely, as though such a notion troubled him greatly, and it had taken all her strength not to kiss him then and there.

She had resisted the urge, and made cordial, cool conversation with him as necessary, but by the time she’d returned to her chambers she had thrown herself onto her bed and wept.  She was tired of this, tired of weeping, of missing a life that hadn’t even existed, had not been hers to begin with.

Thank you for the ask, good sir!!!

[hennessystevens-udaku]

KING ME

After her night with Charlie, Hennessy was even more intrigued about sexual dominance. She yearned for Erik to look at her the way he looked at Charlie when she was in control. That level of raw passion and reverence being something that she craved the most, partly due to her tumultuous childhood. Though she knew some of what the dynamics were in traditional dom/sub relationships, her eager mind yearned for more knowledge. She began spending more and more time away from the group, researching and educating herself on what it meant to be a proper dom and all of the things that she could do to ensure the safety and satisfaction of her sub. When she wasn’t buried in her MacBook or her iPhone, she was with Charlie, absorbing everything she had to give. Confident that she was ready to experiment on her own, she began planning a scene tailored specifically to showing her appreciation to a certain curvaceous King.

--

The family vacation in Amsterdam was nearing its end. On the second to last day, Hennessy decided to plan a day of bonding with her husband and sister wives. Appeasing to her husband’s art hoe nature, she booked a private tour of the Van Gogh art museum as well as lunch along the UNESCO waterways. After lunch, they enjoyed another private tour of the Rijksmuseum, which houses the works of Rembrandt, Van Dyke, and Vermeer. The tiny genius sure knew how to put a smile on his face. So much so that he’d almost forgotten that he owed her a punishment for the stunt she pulled with Charlie the nights before. Almost.

--

After a day of sightseeing and art hoeing, the ladies decided to venture to the infamous XtraCold Icebar for a night of drinking and letting loose, no Erik in sight.

“A bar? Made of Ice? Who said I wanted to be serving up frosted pussy to my husband?” Bastion complained.

“Not frosted pussy,” Ryley snickered.

The outburst made Hennessy laugh. The icebar had been on her list of places to visit as soon as Erik mentioned Amsterdam. That and the cannabis tour of course.

“Our husband,” Aly’Sha corrected, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

“Hey, chill out Bast,” Angel joked, causing the entire room to erupt with laughter at the horrible pun. “It’ll be fun,” she chimed, already making her way to the bar.

“I wonder if I could break a chunk of this and make an ice dildo,” Josephine joked causing everyone to groan.

“Now that's frosted pussy,” Charlie grinned.

As the night went on and the drinks began to flow, Hennessy couldn’t stop the desire building within her. She watched the way Charlie’s full hips swayed to the music and secretly wished that they’d taken Erik up on his offer to stay in. The night in Erik’s room played on a constant loop in her mind and the more she looked at her wife, the more she wanted to show her just how much she’d learned in their short time together.

--

4 hours and 6 Amsterdamned drinks later, Hennessy was a dangerous combination of intoxicated and horny. Erik had already retired to his room for the evening, Angel and Bast in tow, and although Hennessy loved a good orgy, she wasn’t exactly in a sharing mood. She stumbled down the hallway of the aparthotel until she stopped outside of Charlie’s room. She could hear Kimora’s loud giggle from the other side of the door and almost turned to retire to her own room when she spotted Josephine in the hallway looking suspicious.

“Something wrong, Mama?” Josephine asked, sensing Hennessy’s troubled state.

“You’re a witch, right? Y’all should be able to pick up on this type of shit,” Hennessy snapped.

Josephine tilted her head in confusion. She always knew the first lady could be a bit feisty, but she’d never seen it to this degree.

“Ooh someone’s spicy,” Josephine teased, her eyes glowing her signature purple glow. Her voice was low and seductive as she began working her magic.

“Kitana wants to come out to play, Hennessy. Why don’t you let her?”

With that, Josephine was gone and Hennessy was in the hallway alone yet again. Only this time, something felt different.

--

“Someone's at the door,” Kimora whispered, her eyes on the entrance. Charlie shrugged, wasted off of her two drinks. She hardly ever drank and when she did it made her very talkative. Drunk Charlie had the tendency to say things Sober Charlie usually kept to herself. The liquor also made her hornier than she already was on the daily as a typical stellium scorpio. Her almond eyes roamed Kimora's chocolate curves and her mouth watered at the thought of a sweet pink cotton candy center. Although distracted, she'd heard the noise in the hall too.

“Probably Josephine. What scent is that? You smell good as hell like, honeysuckles,” she flirted unwilling to move her eyes from Kimora's rich and perfect skin. It made no sense to look that good, she needed the skin routine. Just then the door opened and Kimora grinned, her teeth a bright white. Erik obviously had a thing for nice teeth. All his wives had them. Henny's voice sounded causing Charlie to turn.

“Oh damn, Henny from the block. You came to fuck or be fucked lil mama? Or did you wanna talk? Can we talk and fuck?” Charlie had to tell herself to calm down. She was doing way too much. “My bad, Henny, what's up?”

“Hiii Hennessy,” Kimora’s sweet voice called to the tiny woman standing in the doorway.

“Hey ladies,” Hennessy called out, slowly making her way into the space. Thanks to Josephine, her current look was much different from what she wore to the Icebar. Her curly mane had been released from her signature high puff, framing her chubby face and the emerald green bodycon dress hugged her curves in all the right places.

“Ladiesss,” Charlie dragged willing Henny nearer. She was a sweet faced gazelle and Charlie couldn’t help but eye her curves like a hungry predator of the wild. Her sweet tooth was acting up something serious. “Honestly, I think I might be lit right now.. I think, but I still wouldn't mind a shot of Hennessy if you feel me,” she grinned, a quarter joking and ¾ serious.

Hennessy giggled in response. Charlie had the same longing look in her eyes that Erik got after he returned from a mission. She stalked up to Charlie, the confidence of her alter ego guiding her steps. She reached out to grab a fistful of Charlie’s hair, lifting her head so that they were staring into each other’s eyes.

“If Charlie wants a taste of Hennessy, she’s gonna have to work for it,” Henny growled with a smile, her rose gold fronts dancing in the light of Charlie’s bedroom.

“Tell me what to do Miss. Call me cat daddy and watch me go to work like it's my 9 to 5.” Charlie was feeling the dominant energy Hennessy put forth and she wanted more of it. She wanted Henny to own her title and put her in her place. Never had she been dommed by a woman and it was a past due experience.

---

The sexual tension in the room was at an all-time high. Hennessy and Charlie eyed each other hungrily while Kimora sat on the bed watching the show.

“I just want my pussy ate,” she finally spoke up, obviously aroused by the apparent power struggle going on in front of her.

Henny looked over to Charlie, one eyebrow raised challengingly.

“You heard the woman, Charlie. You wanted some cotton candy and there it is being offered to you on a silver platter.”

“Wait, I said that out loud? Dammit Charlie!” Charlie faced Kimora who'd changed positions, her legs wide and inviting anyone to come forth. It was all the instruction Charlie needed before diving into Kimora’s slickness. Like a seasoned veteran, she feasted on the sweet nectar like it was her life source, Kimora’s voice rising in octaves as the waves of pleasure crashed around her. To ease the growing pleasure building in her own hobbit hole, Charlie reached a hand down to stroke her throbbing clit. A sharp smack to her plump ass by a riding crop stopped her ministrations.

“When the fuck did she get that?” she wondered silently.

“Did I tell you to touch my pussy, Charlie Jade?” Hennessy questioned, slowly stripping out of her bodycon dress.

“No.. but I'm a touch it,” Charlie tested, returning her hand to her pulsing clit. She wanted that discipline. For a minute she thought that her husband had entered the room, this level of dominance being something completely foreign coming from the tiny woman. Another sharp smack whipped across her backside causing her to drop her hand.

“I said move ya damn hand. Don’t make me say it again, Jade.”

Charlie gushed at Henny’s words, a slick smile on her face.

--

The sounds of sex pulled Josephine and Ryley from their slumber. A glance at the nearby clock revealed the time, 3:45 am. Kimora had promised to be back from Charlie’s room no later than 1:30 so that Josephine could teach them both how to effectively hide their side niggas from Erik.

The pair made their way down the hall, stopping as the moans seemed to intensify outside of Charlie’s room.

“Damn, I thought Erik would’ve been too busy with Angel and Bast to deal with anyone else,” Ryley stated.

“That moisturized, ashy ass nigga always ready to kill some pussy,” Josephine replied.

“Ahh, fuck! Charliiieeee!”

Ryley and Josephine’s heads snapped up in unison.

“I know damn well..” Ryley’s voice trailed off.

Using her powers, Josephine was able to unlock and open the door ever so slightly, giving her and Ryley front row seats to the show.

--

“Eat that shit Charlie!” Hennessy barked, both hands twisted in Charlie's thick coils. Charlie felt like she’d reached Nirvana. The way Kimora sang her name coupled with the way Hennessy was commanding her had brought her to completion twice already and she hadn’t even been touched. It was all so new.

Josephine and Ryley watched from the door, mouths gaping. They’d never seen Hennessy in such a way and Josephine smugly patted herself on the back at how well her spell was working.

“Charliiieeeee!” Kimora screamed a final time, her orgasm hitting her like a brick. The only other person that had eaten her out that well was her husband. Charlie looked up to Hennessy, eager for her next set of instructions. Hennessy stood at the foot of Charlie’s bed, proudly sporting a 9 in. strap-on that she had made in the image of her husband’s member. Charlie and Kimora both stared at it hungrily.

“Kimora, come ride this dick. Charlie, on my face,” Henny commanded as she lay prostrate on the bed. After both women assumed their respective positions, Hennessy went to work on Charlie’s throbbing bulb. As Kimora bounced on her lap, Charlie’s thick thighs threatened to swallow her whole. She rolled her hips in tune with Henny’s licks to her hobbit hole and brought herself to completion for a third time tonight.

---

“The fuck going on in here?” Aly’Sha asked, sleepily rubbing her eyes. Kimora and Charlie’s loud moans had disturbed her rest and she was all too prepared to give the women a piece of her mind until she saw Ryley and Josephine outside of the door.

“See for yourself,” Josephine encouraged, stepping to the side to give Aly’Sha a view. Her eyes widened as she watched the live action porn scene before her.

“What did you do to her?” Aly’Sha asked as she watched Hennessy dominate her sister wives.

“She may or may not be possessed by De Strength of de Oakland Neega,” Josephine teased.

--

The spell had long since worn off, but Hennessy’s sex drive was still going. Hennessy was high off power as both women turned into moaning messes under her ministrations. Both Kimora and Charlie’s legs shook as their umteenth orgasms crashed over them.

“H-Henny.. Please,” Kimora whined. She was never one to tap out during sex, but her body honestly couldn’t take another second of the assault that was being delivered to her core. Hennessy looked up from her position between her thighs and smiled, rose gold fronts once again catching the light of the room.

“Again,” was the only word she spoke as she lapped at the sweet nectar between her wife’s legs. It was at this moment that Charlie realized that she’d created a monster. King Hennessy indeed.

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